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LONDON: 
 
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THE FORTUNES 
 
 HECTOR O'HALLORAN, 
 
 AND HIS MAN 
 
 MARK ANTONY O'TOOLE. 
 
 W. H. MAXWELL, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "STOKIES OF WATERLOO," " THE LIFE OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON," 
 " THE BIVOUAC," ETC. ETC. 
 
 "iFaugl^ a Ballagfj." 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. LEECH. 
 
 LONDON: 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET; 
 
 JOHN GUMMING, DUBLIN ; 
 BELL AND BRADFUTE, EDINBURGII, 
 
LONDON : 
 R. CLAY, PRINTER, BREAD STREET HILL. 
 
fir 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS.. 
 
 
 1. THH CROSS RECKONING to face Tit!<;. 
 
 '■1. ARRIVAL OF THE SERGEANT WITH HIS BUNDLE .... Page Vl 
 
 3. NIGHT ATTACK ON CASTLE KNOCKLOFTY 18 
 
 4. TAKING A RASPER :3-2 
 
 5. THE DISCOVERY 50 
 
 6. AN IRISH SKRIMMAGE 54 
 
 7. SCENE AT THE COCK AND PUNCHBOWL 75 
 
 8. hector's APPEARANCE AFTER THE CAROUSAL 101 
 
 9. THE Jew's design frustrated 108 
 
 10. THE ROBBERY OF TIM MALEY 14-2 
 
 11. THE DUEL 152 
 
 1-2. THE MEETING BETWEEN MEN OF business . . 171 
 
 13. MR. malone's evening party 184 
 
 14. attempt to assassinate hector 194 
 
 15. A highly-respectable jury 208 
 
 IG. THE HOUSE OF call . 226 
 
 17. THE SLAVE SHIP 229 
 
 18. PETER CROTTy's INTERVIEW WITH LORD WELLINGTON .... 2G2 
 
 19. HECTOR AND MARK ANTONY IN THE POSADA 267 
 
 20. MARK ANTONY SAVING THE VOLTIGEUr's LIFE 295 
 
 21. SETTLING AN ACCOUNT 320 
 
 22. MAJOR FITZMAURICE INTRODUCED TO MISS FLORA 334 
 
 23. A DANGEROUS INTRUDER 354 
 
 24. HECTOR WOUNDED 359 
 
 25. HECTOR AND MARK ANTONY IN A PREDICAMENT 379 
 
 26. THE SURPRISE 392 
 
 27. A CONSULTATION 400 
 
 8"/^ 
 
THE FORTUNES 
 
 OP 
 
 HECTOR 04IALL0EAN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A FIRST ANNIVERSAKY 
 
 " Although you open force disdain. 
 Of secret guile beware 1 " John Letdes, 
 
 It was a cold frosty evetiing in December, seventeen hundx'ed and 
 ninety-live, and the whole of the month had been unusu;dly tempestuous. 
 Throughout wide Britain, there are no shores on which tlie wind rages 
 with wilder fury than upon those naked promontories which abut into 
 the Atlantic, along the iron-bound coast of Donegal. Harbours are 
 few and far between — the peasantry are a hardy and adventurous race — 
 and the fishing grounds distant from the land. In the winter, snow- 
 storms come suddenly on, and the sea rises with fearful rapidity. The 
 boatmen ai'e caught in the gale, and too frequently courage and skill 
 struggle in vain, 
 
 " Contending -with the fretful elements ; " 
 
 and a calamitous loss of life robs many a family of its protectors, 
 making the humble roof-tree desolate. 
 
 During the continuation of these fearful storms, this wild coast had 
 not escaped its customary visitations. An island smack had foundered 
 with all its crew ; and farther to the northward, a transport, homeward- 
 bound from Holland with sick and wounded soldiers, having been dis- 
 masted in the gale, was driven a wreck upon the coast. By the fearless 
 intrepidity of some fishermen, the sinking vessel was carried through 
 a fissure in the rocks into a sandy bay ; and, by what appeared miracu- 
 lous interposition, the lives of idl on board were saved, even when hope 
 was over. 
 
 On the second evening after this fortunate deliverance our story 
 opens. Indeed, the epoch was memoral)le. That disastrous campaign 
 which brouglit disgrace upon the British arms, had just terminated in 
 tlie evacuation of the Low Countries, and the withdrawal to its own 
 
 B 
 
2 THE rOllTUNES OF 
 
 sliores of the debris of a splendid force, which, under luckless auspices, 
 had left England buoyant with the assurance of success. Nor was a 
 foreign failure the only circumstance which at this eventful period 
 gave cause for apprehension. In England, the public mind was agitated, 
 monetary confidence deeply shaken, and revolutionary principles were 
 gaining ground ; while in Ireland the peasantry united in lawless associa- 
 tions, and murder, with robbery of arms, intimated that some insurrec- 
 tionary movement was at hand. In a word, everything was gloomy 
 and discouraging abroad, and at home liie and property had no 
 security. With few exceptions the resident gentry had repaired for 
 protection to garrisoned towns. Some however, with more spirit than 
 discretion, determined to remain within their houses, and my father 
 was of that number. 
 
 Yet there were few persons excepting its owner, who, even in 
 peaceful times, would choose Knockloftie for an abiding place. It 
 was an old and dreary-looking fabric, — one portion consisting of a dark 
 square tower, the keep of a former stronghold of the O'Hallorans, — and 
 the others, additions built at different periods, according to the wants 
 or fancies of succeeding proprietors. The house was perched upon a 
 cliff, which rose in sheer ascent two hundred feet above the beach 
 beneath it. Although sheltered by some high grounds behind, still, 
 as the building looked upon the ocean, it was necessarily exposed and 
 cold ; while dwarfed and sickly copse-wood— all that repeated efforts to 
 gi'ow timber could produce — instead of improving the general appear- 
 ance of the place, gave a silent but striking evidence of its hopeless 
 sterility. 
 
 To ray father, however, Knockloftie had hereditary endearments. 
 For five centuries his ancestors had been born and died there ; and he 
 clung with a family attachment to that ancient roof-ti'ee, where the 
 O'Hallorans, in better days, had exercised a boundless hospitality, which 
 even yet was chronicled in the traditions of the neighbourhood. 
 
 But local associations apart, my father would have scorned to yield 
 to the threatening appearances of the times, and leave his mansion in 
 alarm. He was " every inch" a soldier ; and in all relations between 
 landlord and tenant, it was universally admitted that he was both liberal 
 and kind. He had vainly endeavoured to rouse the spirit of the gentry, 
 and induce them, by bold and united efforts, to crush the increasing 
 disaffection ; and at a recent county meeting, after delivering a stirring 
 appeal, he concluded by a declaration, that, " while the old tower of 
 Knockloftie had a roof, it never should want an arm to defend it," — and 
 he raised his own. 
 
 Although Coh)nel O'Hailoran had failed to produce the reaction he 
 desired, still the bold example he had given was not without effect. 
 The government was appealed to for assistance, rewards were offered 
 largely for the apprehension of the guilty, vigorous measures pro- 
 posed and agreed to, and the dormant energies of the aristocracy 
 seemed awakening. Of course, my father occupied a prominent place 
 in the estimation of both the loyal and the disaffected. With the 
 former he was considered the master-spirit, who was to direct them in 
 this their hour of difficulty; while the latter set liirn down as the most 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN. 3 
 
 dangerous enemy tliey had to di-ead. In a moment, former kindness 
 and consequent popularity vanished like a di-eam, the delenda est 
 of Knockloitie was pronounced, and in the black list to guide the 
 future mui-derer my father's name stood first. 
 
 Such was the state of the times, and such the local condition of the 
 country in which the opening scene of this true histoiy is laid. My 
 first anniversary had come round ; and although the hospitable relations , 
 which had formerly existed among the gentry had been interrupted, 
 still, on this occasion, there was a semblance of rejoicing in my father's 
 house, though, sooth to say, it was after all a sickly effort at festivity. 
 
 In the great chamber of Ivnockloftie the lord of the mansion, with 
 his lady and two guests, were seated. The apartment was a large, 
 square,' and ill-lit room, occupying the lower portion of the tower. 
 Both floor and ceiling were framed of native oak, which time had neai'ly 
 blackened, and the walls were half-concealed byportraits rudely executed. 
 Many indications of the danger of the times were apparent in this 
 ancient chamber. The windows were jealously secured, and every- 
 where weapons of all descriptions were seen. Two ai-m-racks, holding 
 a dozen muskets each, were placed in either corner, while some silver 
 sconces dependent from the cornice shed on the polished arms a 
 flickering light. But the chamber was better illuminated ; for the huge 
 hearth was heaped with bog-wood, and the ruddy flare this cheerful fire 
 emitted reached the remotest extremity of the apartment, and hall- 
 dispelled its gloom. 
 
 As Scott would say, " the tables were di-awn," and dinner had disap- 
 peared. My mother s^at in an antique high-backed chair, busily employed 
 in knitting shooting-stockings for her husband ; my father had extracted 
 another cork ; the'parson pronounced the wine unexceptionable ; and 
 the priest, " good easy man," was stirring an obdurate piece of sugai", 
 deposited in the bottom of his second tumbler. The clock upon th<^, 
 mantelpiece struck seven, and the butler, after replenishing a bent- 
 basket with firewood, quitted the presence and closed the door. All 
 these events had passed, and it is high time that the gentle reader 
 should be form:dly introduced to the company. 
 
 The history of my parents must be intermixed. Lieutenant-Colonel 
 Denis O'Halloran was now some thirty-one, but he looked older by a 
 dozen years. He was a tall, athletic man, well formed and well set-up, 
 with an air and beai-ing which did not require the attestation of an 
 empty sleeve, to prove him " no carpet knight " and stamp him soldier. 
 He entered the service a boy of sixteen — and at six-and-twenty, the 
 women said he was the handsomest fellow in garrison. At twenty-seven, 
 the old major having signified his intention to retire, my grandsire, more 
 Hibernko, secured his son's promotion by parting with another town- 
 land. At twenty-eight, Major O'Halloran further promoted himself, 
 for he can-ied off the pretty brunette who was now demurely knitting 
 stockings in the corner. Heaven forgive him !— my mother was boarder 
 in a convent— and one blessed moonlight morning, when the nuns were 
 dreaming of heaven, and the superior sleeping " fast as a watchman," 
 with the assistance of a ladder and three grenadiers, Miss Emily 
 Clifford was liberated from holy pupilage, and at Gretna Green she 
 
 e2 
 
4 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 became Mrs. O'llalloran, and that too, without taking the opinion of 
 the parish as to whether there was just cause or impediment against 
 the same. 
 
 My mother was the only daughter of a Catholic gentleman of large 
 estate. He hr\d however a son by a former marriage, fifteen years older. 
 The boy grew up wild and extravagant — and at twenty-one had dis- 
 sipated a handsome fortune. At hust his angry parent totally discarded 
 him, and to support his endless debaucheries, the unhappy youth 
 resorted to discreditable means for obtaining the money he required. 
 With some profligate companions he became involved in a ti-ansac- 
 tion which rendered them obnoxious to the law, and in consequence, 
 Edward Clittbrd left England secretly. Eighteen yeai's had elapsed 
 — none could say whether he was dead or living— but the general 
 ' belief was, that he filled an early and dishonoured grave. 
 
 Mr. Clifford was a bigot in religion. All his hopes had long since 
 cent(-red in his daughter; and the great object of his life was to marry 
 her to a person of his own persuasion, and a union was negotiated, 
 and neai'ly concluded, between Emily and the son of a Cathohc peer. 
 In the meantime, her education had been entrusted to the sisterhood 
 of a convent, alike celebrated for sanctity and strictness, where, as 
 Mr. Clifford believed, his daughter would be equally secure against 
 attempts upon her faith or her affections. What must have been 
 his rage and astonishment when the news of her elopement was 
 communicated ! She who liad been designed to wed a peer — whose 
 loved society he had relinquished, that her religious opinions might be 
 confirmed by spiritual instruction — she was lost to him for ever ; united 
 by an indissoluble tie to the son of a distressed gentleman — and worse 
 still, to the professor of a creed from which JNIr. Clifford fearfuUy 
 recoiled, as a system founded in heresy and error. 
 
 After a sufficient time had been allowed to permit the first burst of 
 parental displeasure to exhaust itself, letters were written to Mr. 
 Clifford by the offenders, to depi'ecate his anger and solicit pardon and 
 forgiveness ; but they came back with unbroken seals, while other 
 circumstances concurred to convince my parent that, for a time at least, 
 tlie old gentleman's anger was implacable. Rich in mutual regard, they 
 sought and found consolation in reciprocated affections — and soon after 
 there Avas promise of another tie, tliat should bind their hearts together 
 even more closely than before. 
 
 Short was the season when their course of love ran smooth. An 
 order of readiness arrived unexpectedly from the war office — the des- 
 tination of the regiment was France — and in another week a rout was 
 received for Deal. 
 
 A separation was now inevitable — and when my mother most re- 
 quired a husband's gentle attentions, the order to divide them had 
 arrived. But the rector of her father's parish had heard of the 
 intended embarkation, and hastened to offer the home my mother 
 needed. Thus, cheered by " the good man's counsels," and nursed 
 tenderly by his excellent wife, my mother gave bii'th, in four months 
 aftenvards to a son —I made an entree on the world, — and commenced, 
 as the reader may probably admit hereafter, an adventurous cai'cer. 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN. o 
 
 The young soldier's history in the meantime, is shortly told. Lord 
 Moira, despairing of effecting any good by the intended descent on 
 Brittany, changed the direction of his force, landed at Ostend, and 
 finally joined the Diike of York at Mecldin. In my father's regiment 
 the lieut. -colonel had become sick, and the senior major retired — 
 consequently the command had devolved upon liimself— and could any 
 thing have reconciled the severance of young love, it would have been 
 the early prospect of military distinction. 
 
 Major O'Halloran proved that fortune had not vainly offered him her 
 favours. Ilis regiment was brigaded with the rear-guai'd, and on every 
 occasion the battalion was admirably commanded. The service of 
 retiring constantly in front of a victorious army is most discouraging, 
 but still that disheartening duty was performed with a spirit deserving 
 better fortune. At last the Duke of York was recalled, and for a time 
 his successor. Count Walmoden, assumed the offensive. An attack on 
 the Eepublicans at Tuyl had partial success, and my father heading the 
 grenadier company, cai-ried the town by assault. With that exploit his 
 military career was prematurely closed — his left arm was fractured by 
 a grape shot, amputated afterwards, and he returned to England 
 invalided. 
 
 The rest is briefly told. He found himself a father, and his own 
 sire had paid the debt of nature. His health was shaken by fatigue, 
 his wound healed slowly, and after some consideration, he retired from 
 the army upon half pay, obtaining a colonel's rank and pension, and 
 fixed his residence in his native country, taking possession of an ancient 
 house, and what proved afterwards an unquiet home. 
 
 The guests who on the anniversary of my birth had honoured 
 Knockloftie with their presence, were different both in character and 
 appearance. The priest was a strong-built, good-humoured, under-sized 
 man, of jovial habits and easy disposition, careless how matters went, 
 and consequently, ill-adapted to repi-ess the turbulence of a disobedient 
 fiock, who would have required the religious coercion of a sterner 
 monitor. As confessor to the establishment, Father Dominic Kelly made 
 Knockloftie his abiding place. He was of gentle blood himself, and 
 preferred being domiciled in the house of a gentleman, to a wandering 
 life am.ong the rude dwellings of a lawless community. Hence Father 
 Dominic was by no means popular — and his influence over a wild and 
 rebellious people was far less extensive tlian that which is generally 
 possessed by the Irish priesthood. 
 
 The other churchman formed a singular contrast to the burly 
 priest. He was a small, attenuated, intelligent-looking personage, 
 possessing natural courage and a restless and irascible disposition. 
 A fellow of the university, he had retired upon a college living — and 
 having obtained, unhappily for himself, a commission of the peace, he 
 exercised his powers with greater zeal than discretion ; in short, he had 
 made himself so obnoxious to the peasantry that his life was not worth 
 a pin's fee. Like Colonel O'Halloran, he too was doomed to death, 
 and in the hiach list his name was second to that of my father. A few 
 nights before, his glebe-house had been burnt to the ground ; and, 
 liaving escaped assassination by a miracle, he found that protection at 
 
6 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Knoekloftio, -nhicli, from a more timid proprietor, might hare been 
 sought and asked iu vain. 
 
 But there \yerc others besides Doctor Hamilton, who during this 
 reign of terror had been obliged to abandon their own homes, and 
 elsewhere seek a shelter. Several of the poorer fiirmers had given 
 testimony in recent prosecutions which led to the conviction of an 
 assassin, on whom the extreme penalty of the law had been justly 
 executed. This in the eyes of his guilty companions was a crime be- 
 yond the pale of mercy, and the unfortunate men were accordingly 
 denounced. They fled for protection to Knockloftie — there, they were 
 now residing — and, as if the measure of my father's offendings was not 
 already full, the daring act of interposing between a lawless confederacy 
 and its victims had heaped it even to an overflow. No wonder there- 
 fore, that the full fury of rebel vengeance was to be turned against 
 himself and all whom his roof-tree covered. 
 
 " Well, William," said my mother, as she renewed a conversation which 
 had been accidentally interrupted, " when you were struck down — " 
 
 " My foster brother sprang from the ranks, threw away his musket, 
 lifted me lightly as even with this lone arm I would lift you, and 
 carried me — " 
 
 " In safety from the danger ?" 
 
 " No, no, love — we had to pass through a cross fire of musketry — a 
 ball struck him, and when he fell dead — I was in his arms." 
 
 " Would," said my mother with a sigh, " that our Hector had a 
 foster brother !" 
 
 " Would that he had ! and one so faithful and devoted !" — my father 
 drew his hand across his eyes — "this is too womanly, but — " 
 
 As he was speaking, the mastiff chained iu a kennel beside the hall 
 door began to growl, and the priest rose and peeped cautiously through 
 a shot -hole in the shutters, to ascertain what might have disturbed 
 the dog. Nothing to cause alarm was visible — and the churchman re- 
 turned to the table, observing, that the night froze keenly. 
 
 My mother had dropped her knitting on the carpet. — "What a 
 horrid state of things," observed the lady, as she picked the worsted 
 from the floor, " that a growl from Caesar sets my heart beating for 
 an hour, and a knock after dark terrifies me almost to death !" 
 
 " Thou a soldier's wife, and play the coward !" exclaimed my father. 
 " Fear nothing, Emily; the old tower from roof to basement is secured — 
 there is not a cranny that would admit the cat that I have not under 
 a flanking fire— the lower windows save one ai"e built up — I have 
 retrenched the hall with a barricade, nailed up the back door, and the 
 frontone is enfiladed by that embrasure," — andhe pointed to a windowin 
 an angle of the room, at either side of which a blunderbuss was standing 
 ready for instant use." " Would that for one night thou and the baby 
 were safe within the convent walls ! then let the scoundrels come ! 
 By Heaven ! next morning there should be more shirts* upon the lawn 
 than were ever spread upon the bleaching groand, and the coroner 
 should have occupation, not by single files, but by the cart-load." 
 
 * The Defenders \rore shirts over their clothes at night, and hence were also 
 called White-hoys. 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 7 
 
 "WTiile my father spoke, the whole scene was passiupr in his " mind's 
 eye," and Defenders were dropping by the dozen. His face lighted 
 up, and springing from the chair he waved his soUtary arm, strode 
 across the chamber, and looked with conscious pride at all his military 
 preparations. My mother grew pale as death, and turning her eyes 
 up she fervently ejacidated, " God forbid !" and crossed herself de- 
 voutlv. The priest performed a similar cei-emony, and uttered a sin- 
 cere " Amen I" 
 
 " Pshaw !" said my father, as he passed his arm round my mother's 
 waist and kissed her tenderly ; " do not alarm yom'self. This house 
 is strong ; nothing but treachery could force it." 
 
 " Beware of that," said the parson ; " for that I feared and proved. 
 I was betrayed by the villain who ate my bread, and saved providentially 
 by the babbling folly of an idiot." 
 
 " Indeed !" said my mother, with an inquiring glance, as she laid 
 !ier knitting down. 
 
 '•' The tale is briefly told," said Doctor Hamilton. " For some time 
 past I suspected that my servants were disaffected. I watched them 
 closely, and circumstances convinced me that my fears were true. I 
 had business in the next toAvn ; my tithe agent dared not venture out 
 of doors, and it was imperatively necessary that I should see him. 
 By a lane, the distance between the glebe-house and the village was only 
 four miles — all I wanted done would occupy but a few minutes — and 
 I took, as I supposed, effectual means to enable me to accomplish the 
 object I had in view, and return home even before my absence was 
 known in my treacherous household. At dusk I despatched my ser- 
 vant with a letter to the curate, and when he was out of sight I 
 saddled a fast horse, quitted the stable by a back door, and rode off at 
 speed for the village. I was unexpectedly delayed — but as a pre- 
 caution against danger, x-eturned by another and longer road. 
 
 ISTight had set in ; I passed through the last hamlet at a sharp trot, 
 and, but a mile from home, pulled up at a steep hill that leads directly 
 to the bridge. A lad who was running in an opposite direction stopped 
 when he observed me coming, and I recognised liim at once to be an 
 idiot boy who occasionally visited the glebe-house, where he always 
 received meat or money by my orders. As I came closer he began 
 dancing and gabbling in a sing-song tune, '• Ha, ha ! Hamilton, ha, 
 ha ! somebody will get his fairin. There's Dick Brady and the smith 
 beliind the hedge, and Jack Coyne, and Patsy Gallagher, and twenty 
 more besides, only I don't know them with their white shirts and black 
 faces. Ha, ha ! ha, ha ! somebody to-night will get his fairin !" 
 He repeated this rhyme, and kept dancing for a few moments with 
 idiot glee, and then, under a sudden impulse, ran off towards the hamlet 
 which I had but just passed through." 
 
 Again an angry growling was heard from the mastiff's kennel, and 
 the priest looked a second time through the shot-hole. The night was 
 clear and star-lit, but nothing was visible from the window. Father 
 Dominic resumed hvs seat, and Doctor Hamilton thus continued: 
 '■' My danger was imminent, and my resolution must be prompt. 
 I dismounted, turned my horse loose, and as I had expected, he 
 
8 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 galloped oflf directly towards his stable. I sprang into the next field, 
 juid lay down under cover of the hedge, to consider what was the be&t 
 direction that I should take to escape the blood-hounds, who doubt- 
 lessly w^ould be soon upon my trail. 
 
 " I had not been above a minute in concealment when footsteps were 
 heard approaching rapidly from the bridge. Two men came on at 
 speed, and one had outstripped the other. ' Stop !' cried the hind- 
 most, ' what a devil of a hurry you are in ! I can't keep up with 
 you.' 
 
 '"I want to be in at the death,' returned the well-known voice ot 
 my villain servant ; ' I would not miss it for a ten-pound note. He 
 thought to give me the slip — put me on a wrong scent, and sent me 
 with a letter. He asked me a question about bridling a horse, and 
 tliat betrayed liis secret. I knew there was something in the wind — 
 doubled back upon the house after he thouglit me clear away— saw 
 him go off through the back lane in a canter, and — ' Two shots 
 
 were heard in quick succession. ' He's down, by ,' he exclaimed, 
 
 M'ith savage exultation. ' Run Murtaugh ! they'll be into the house in 
 no time. I know where the money is. Run — the devil's luck to you !' 
 and oft' both ruffians started. 
 
 " The rest you know. Speedily a glare of red light was seen, and a 
 burning house — my own — guided my flight, for I took the opposite 
 direction. I know not whether I was pursued— but, if I was the villains 
 were unsuccessful. At midnight I reached this place of refuge, and 
 here, for a time at least, I am safe." 
 
 " What boundless treachery !" exclaimed my father, as the parson 
 ended the narrative of his escape. " We may set an open enemy at 
 defiance, but who can guard against secret villany ? By Heaven ! a 
 dark suspicion at this moment flashes across my mind. Have you 
 noticed the servant who waits at table ?" 
 
 " I have— and as a disciple of Lavater I denounce him ; he never 
 looks you fairly in the face." 
 
 " And yet the only vulnerable point in the garrison is at that fellow's 
 mercy. Wlien I closed up every aperture besides, Hackett remon- 
 strated so strongly, and pleaded the inconvenience it would cause 
 should I build up the window of his pantry, that I consented to leave 
 it open, merely adding a second shutter for security. It is but small 
 — a man however could creep through it— but to-morrow the mason 
 shall brick it up." 
 
 " It may be fancy," said my mother, " but Ilackett's manner appears 
 lately to have undergone a change. There is at times a freedom in 
 his language that borders upon insolence ; but hush ! here comes the 
 nurse." 
 
 The door opened as she spoke, and I was added to the company. 
 My mother placed me on her knee,— the parson proposed my health, — 
 Father Dominic added a supplication, that " God would make me a 
 better man than my father, and, above all things, keep me out of con- 
 vents,"— and the latter responded an amen. Every glass was emptied 
 to the bottom— the host rang for more wine and the priest replenished 
 his tumbler. It was a moment of hilai-ity, joyous and brief. Suddenly 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAxN'. 9 
 
 Caesar gave the alarm— not as before, in under growls, but in the 
 " full-mouthed diapason " of a bark audible a mile off. The grey- 
 hound and the terrier sprang up and answered,— I cried, frightened by, 
 the " loud alarum," — the nursemaid caught me from my mother, and 
 hurried from the room, — while my father, exclaiming " a true chal- 
 lenge, by Heaven !" leaped from his chair, and placed himself before 
 the wicket that looked upon the lawn. 
 
 A minute — an anxious minute, elapsed. 
 
 " I heai'," said the Doctor," the footsteps of a mob, as they tread 
 upon the frozen gravel." 
 
 " Hush !" replied my father, as he turned his ear attentively in the 
 direction whence the noise proceeded; " that is not the movement 
 of a mob— they step too well together. Soldiers on march, for 
 a hundred !" 
 
 At the Colonel's observation, my mother, who had nearly fainted, 
 gradually recovered courage, and left the apartment for the nursery 
 to re-establish mine,— my father remained at his post, to ascertain 
 what the party were, who at this late hour approached his fortilage, — 
 while Father Dominic ejaculating a pious " Heaven stand between us 
 and evil !" turned down his tumbler to the bottom. Well, it was only 
 his third one, after aU. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE PLOT THICKENS. 
 
 Now Christie's "Will peep'd from the toM-er, 
 And out at the shot-hole keeked he, — 
 And, "Ever unlucky," quo' he, " is the hour, 
 When a woman comes to speer for me." 
 
 Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. 
 
 In a short time " the heavy tread of mai-ching men" ceased, as a 
 pai-ty of ten or twelve soldiers halted immediately in front of my 
 father's barricade. 
 
 " Stand ! who goes there ?" was demanded from the loop-hole. 
 
 " A friend," replied a voice, redolent of the richness of the 
 Shannon. 
 
 " Advance, friend, and give the countersign," returned my father, 
 whose phraseology, from military habitude, still retained the pai'lance 
 of the camp. 
 
 " Countersign !" responded the leader of the belated wayfarers ; 
 " devil a countersign have I but one. If my ould Colonel's above 
 the sod, he's spakin'to me now fair and asy from the windy." 
 
 " "Wlio are you ?" demanded my ftither. 
 
 "Oh! byJakers, you'll hardly mind me. Colonel; — Private Phil 
 Brady of ' number eight ' when you had the regiment ; but now, 
 glory be to God and good conduct, lance-sergeant in 'number five.'" 
 
 " Wliat is your party, Brady ?" 
 
10 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " Upon my conscience, Colonel, a quare one, enough; tin invalids, 
 a tlyin woman, and a fine man-child." 
 
 " Unclose tJie door, Father Dominic !" 
 
 The priest lifted a heavy key from the side-board, and proceeded to 
 give admission to the travellers, wheii Ilackett, who had been hitherto 
 an anxious listener, ventured a remonstrance. " Why not," said he, 
 " give them meat and whisky before the door ? Every room was 
 already crowded with idle ]>eople, whom nobody Avould have harmed, 
 had they remained where they ought, — at home. If the house was to 
 be turned into an hospital for sick trampers and their trulls, why every 
 servant would quit a place liker a jail than a gentleman's." 
 
 Colonel O'HaUoran preserved an ominous tranquillity ; and Hackett, 
 mistaking the cause, became more insolent as his speech proceeded 
 without interruption. But the storm burst at last. 
 
 " Villain !" said my father in a voice which induced the chief 
 butler to recede some paces backwards, — " dare you, a menial, 
 prescribe to me, your master, Avho shall be received and Avho 
 rejected ? Tell me that a comrade shall be turned from my door, and 
 recommend that the weary soldier be ejected from the house of 
 Ixim under whom he has fought and bled ! OS — we pai't to-morrow. 
 The roof of Knockloftie shall never cover for a second night a 
 sneaking scoundrel who has neither welcome for a bi'ave man nor 
 l^ity for a helpless woman ; — show in the sergeant !" 
 
 Without venturing to reply, Hackett shrank from the presence of 
 his angry master ; and in another minute sergeant Philip Brady 
 made his military salaam, and, with a capacious bundle in his arms, 
 stood full front before his former commander. 
 
 " Phil !" said the Colonel, as he examined the soldier's outer man, 
 " if I judge rightly, thou like myself art but lightly indebted to the 
 Low Countries ;" and my father held up an empty sleeve. 
 
 " Feaks ! and ye may say that, Colonel," replied the sergeant. " All 
 that I have gained in Holland — barrin the stripes— is a slashed 
 cheek, a threadbai'c jacket, and a fine chUd." 
 
 " Your kit, however, seems extensive, Phil ; that which you cai'ry 
 looks to be a well-fiUed bundle." 
 
 " It's only the child, your honor ; the night was cold, the mother 
 wake, so I wrapped the baby in this ould coat, and for its father's 
 sake kept it, the cratur, as snug as could be." 
 
 " It's not your own, then ?" 
 
 " Divil a wife or child has Philip Brady," returned the honest 
 sergeant. " Ye may remember corporal O'Toole, — he was one of the 
 finest men in the grenadiers, when your honor had the company." 
 
 " Perfectly ; a better or braver soldier was not in the regiment. 
 What became of him ?" 
 
 " He died at sea, God rest his sowl ! on the second day after we 
 left Ostend. He was badly wounded when put on board, poor fellow ! 
 and we were all, men and women, bundled into the transport like 
 so many hounds, short of water and provisions, and in the hurry they 
 forgot the surgeon too. Well, his wound mortified : ' I'm oft, Phil ;' 
 says he ; ' you'll not forget the poor wife, for my sake, and may God 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 11 
 
 look down upon the orphan ! Give me your hand upon it, Phil,' 
 says he, and he squeezed mine with all his feeble strength. When I 
 came down again, his wife was hanging over the dead body. They 
 coaxed her awav to see the child, and when she returned to have some 
 comfort in crying over the corpse, it was already overboard with two 
 others, who had dropped oiF the hooks that evening. From that hour 
 Toole's wife (we called hun Toole for shortness) has pined away, and 
 the life was barely in her when your honor, may God reward ye ! 
 let us in." 
 
 " "Why were you so late upon the road ?" inquired the Colonel ; 
 " in the present state of things soldiers are no favoui'ites, and the 
 chances are considerable, had you proceeded farther, that you would 
 have been waylaid and abused." 
 
 " Feaks ! and I believe yoiu- honor. We were delayed partly by 
 accident, and partly thi-ough design. Qui- car broke down, the horse 
 lost a shoe, and the rest of the party pushed forward, laving us at 
 a forge to get the cart mended, and the baste shod. The smith — divil's 
 luck to liim, the ruffin! — kept us three hours, I think on purpose, and 
 then they directed us astray. So when I found the night falling, and 
 the poor woman all but dead, as I heard there was a gentleman's not 
 far off, I heads the party here on chance, little dreaming, the Lord 
 knows, that I had the luck of thousands and was coming to my ould 
 Colonel's, and no other." 
 
 My father was a man of prompt action and few words. The bell 
 was rung, the soldiers sent to the kitchen to refresh themselves, the 
 child conmiitted to the care of a female domestic, and carried to the 
 apartment whither its dying mother had been previously removed. 
 There, my mother and the woman-kind of the establishment used 
 every means which simple skiU suggested ; but already the decree 
 had gone forth, and within an hour after the arrival of the party the 
 crisis came, the widow of the dead soldier was at rest, and her babe 
 an orphan. 
 
 ^- The struggle was brief," said the priest, as he re-entered the room, 
 from which he had been so hastily summoned 
 
 ' By a dying woman to pray.' 
 
 May God receive her in mercy ! She went off so gently, that though 
 we were all about the bed, no one could tell the moment when she 
 departed. My lady is crying over her as if she were a sister, and the 
 baby sleeping soundly in Sibby Connor's arms, as if it were still resting 
 on that bosom which had been designed by God to be its pillow and 
 support." 
 
 My father, as was his wont when any thing particularly excited 
 him, sprang from his chair, and strode thrice across the chamber. — 
 " Tell me not," he exclaimed, " that there is not an especijd provi- 
 dence over every thing — ay, from the sparrow to the soldiex''s child. 
 That orphan lias been sent to me, — mine it is, — mine it shall be. Pass 
 the wine. Doctor. Here comes madame." 
 
 !My mother timidly approached the side of her husband's chair, and 
 laid her hand upon his shoulder. 
 
12 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " Denis," she Sfiid, " will you be very angry with me ?" 
 
 " Angry, love !" replied my father, reproachfully. 
 
 " You never were angry with me yet. But — but — I have done 
 something, upon which I should have previously obtained your 
 sanction, love." 
 
 " "WHaat was it, Emily ?" 
 
 " I promised," said my mother, " the dying woman, that her heli)les3 
 cliild should find in you and me protectors. Hector's nurse has taken 
 the orphan, — and sludl he not be our own boy's foster-brother ?" 
 
 " You did, my dear, precisely what I had determined to have done 
 myself." 
 
 "Before the sufferer's voice failed totally," continued the lady, " she 
 said that the child was still unchristened, and prayed that rite might be 
 performed when convenient." 
 
 " There will be no difficulty in complying with her request," replied 
 my father ; '•' there are now two learned Thebans in Knockloftie. 
 To which of the professors does the poor baby belong ?" 
 
 " His parents were Roman Catholics," said my mother. 
 
 " Then, Father Dominic, a cast of your office Avill be necessary. 
 Eing for Sergeant Brady — and then parade the cliild." 
 
 In a few moments the non-commissioned officer and the soldier's 
 orphan were introduced. 
 
 " Wliat name shall 1 give him ?" said the priest. 
 
 " His father's," rejoined the Colonel. 
 
 " That was Marc," observed the sergeant. 
 
 " AYliat's in a name ?" said Dr. Hamilton. 
 
 " More than one woiild suppose, Doctor," replied my father. '• Our 
 red-headed adjutimt married a Bath heiress almost at sight, for after 
 but a two hours' siege she surrendered at discretion, declaring that it 
 was utterly impossible to hold out against a lover whose appellatives 
 were Julius Caesar." 
 
 " Then add Antony to his patronymic, and your protet^e will prove 
 irresistible." 
 
 " Marc Antony be it then," replied the priest ; and in five minutes 
 the ceremony was complete. The sergeant retired to finish his supper 
 below stairs, and the orphan was returned to the nursery, named 
 after that amorous Roman, who "for a queen of fifty" gave up a 
 world. 
 
 The clock struck eleven. — INIy mother retired for the night, and 
 the priest had been called out to prescribe for a sick soldier, — for his 
 reverence united leechcraft to divinity, and thus was doubly useful. 
 My father and Dr. Hamilton were consequently left alone, and both 
 for some minutes had been communing wdth their own thoughts — 
 my father broke the silence. 
 
 " I know not wherefore," said he, " but something wdiispers me 
 that this night is fated to be an important one in the history of the 
 old house. I'm not inclined for sleep, and I feel a sort of restlessness, 
 as if the day's events had not yet closed." 
 
 " It is the mentd reaction which follows some unusual excitement, 
 replied the divine. 
 
# 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN. * IS 
 
 " It may be so," returned my father. '•' On with more wood. We'll 
 order a light supper, and borrow an hour from the night." 
 
 Tlie Doctor threw some bUlets on the fire, while my father filled his 
 glass, and transferred the wine duly to the churchman. 
 
 " Did you remark the opposition which Ilackett made when I gave 
 orders to admit the soldiers ?" 
 
 " I watched him attentively," replied the Doctor. '' His lips grew 
 pale, his brows lowered, and with great difficulty he suppressed a 
 burst of angry feelings which seemed almost too strong to be con- 
 trolled. Be assured, my dear Colonel, that man is dangerous. K he 
 be not traitor, I wrong him sorely.'" 
 
 " Hush !" said my father, " the dog is growling. What ! more late 
 visitors ? This is indeed a busy night ; and again honest Cajsar 
 proves himself a worthy sentinel. Wherever treachery m.ay lurk, 
 there's none within his kennel. Doctor." 
 
 The Colonel reconnoitred from his embrasure, but there was nothing 
 to excite alarm. The moon had risen, and the sky, spangled with frost- 
 stars, was bright and clear. Caisar, advanced to the full length of his 
 chain, was patted upon the head by a person closely wrapped up, who 
 spoke to him with the admitted familiarity of an old acquaintance. To 
 the Colonel's demand of name and business, a female voice replied, "I beg 
 your honour's pardon, it's me, Mary Halligan. My mother-in-law 
 won't put over the night. She wants to see his reverence in private, 
 and sent me with some lines* to the priest. None of the boys would 
 venture to the Castle after dark, for fear of Cajsar and your honour." 
 
 " Well, Mary, late as it is, well allow you in. Will you, Hamilton, 
 unlock the door, and let us have the lady here — for cntre nous, she 
 belongs to a faithless family." 
 
 The peasant now in waiting at the hall-door was decidedly the 
 handsomest woman in the parish. For time immemorial her fathers 
 had been servants in Knockloftie, and she an occasional inmate of the 
 house. Her brother, educated by my grandfather, had discharged the 
 double duty of schoolmaster and driver — the latter, in plain English, 
 meaning the factotum of an Irish gentleman of small estate. In this 
 depai'tmeut, Halligan had beenfounddishonest, was disgracefully turned 
 off, joined lawless men, obtained among them a bad pre-eminence, and 
 now, under the double ban of murder and sedition, was skulking in the 
 hills with a reward of fifty pounds offered for his apprehension. After 
 her brotlxer's disgrace, Mary had seldom visited the mansion of her 
 former master — and, as report said, she was affianced to one of the most 
 troublesome and disaffected scoundrels in the barony. 
 
 Mary HaUigan, and much against her own inclination, wa.s inducted 
 by the churchman into my fatliei''s presence. " It was too much 
 trouble to his honour," she muttered ; " Mr. Hackett the butler would 
 do all she wanted, and give the lines to Father Dominic." 
 
 " Mary," said my father, as he handed her a ghiss of wine, " you 
 tremble. Has any tiling alarmed you ?" 
 
 " It is very, very cold, your honour, out of doors." 
 
 * The term " lines " is generally used by the Irish peasantry instead of " letter." 
 
14 THE FORTUKES OF 
 
 " Cold it is, certainly, and Father Dominic v>\U. have a dreiuy ride. 
 Where is tlie letter for him ?" 
 
 Mary Ilalligan's colour went and came, for my father's searching eye 
 was turned upon her, and that added to her confusion. She -fumbled 
 in her bosom — pulled out one paper, — a second fell upon the carpet — 
 one she caught up — the other she hastily delivered — and the latter, 
 was the wrong one. 
 
 ]My father carelessly looked over it, while Mary Halligan scrutinized 
 his face with deep attention. As he read it — she became pale as death, 
 and seemed hanging in feai-ful expectation upon the first words that 
 Colonel O'llalloran woidd utter. 
 
 " Ha ! " said my father carelessly, " so the old woman's bad it seems. 
 She wants, I suppose, to make her will — leave you an heiress, Maiy,— 
 and Father Dominic will assist her. Well, the priest will be here 
 directly. Come, Mary, ' for auld lang syne' we'll have a glass. TMiat 
 has become of your brother, the schoolmaster ?" 
 
 " May God forgive the liars ! They slandered him, and turned your 
 honour again him. He would die for a dog belonging to Knockloftie, 
 — and if he didn't, the bigger villain he ! " 
 
 " And the young miller, IMary ? people say you ai'e about to marry 
 him. Is he slandered, too ? " 
 
 " God sees he is," was the response. 
 
 "Any nightly meetings at the chapel, Mary ?" said the Colonel. 
 
 The girl changed colour again : " None, your honour — not one. 
 Thanks be to God ! the bad people have left the pai-ish." 
 
 "When did you see your brother? To-night?" said the Colonel 
 sharply. 
 
 " To-night ! " returned the girl, in tones which indicated deep confu- 
 sion. 
 
 " I am jesting, Mary. "Where is he now ?" -- , 
 
 " In Connaught, your honour, with a cousin of is^mother's." 
 
 " There let him remain, Maiy. There, he will be safe until things 
 become more quiet. But, Mary, the times are not as they were five 
 years ago, when you and I used to meet by moonlight near the houiUee.^ 
 Pshaw ! don't blush; — it was only to gather bilberries, and exchange 
 kisses for new ribbons. Did you come here alone ? — no lover — no 
 comrade— none to bear you company ?" 
 
 " I put my trust in God," said the girl, " and then. Colonel, you 
 know I was safe." 
 
 "Just as we used to do in GlencuUen. Ah, Maiy, would that all 
 young women had j^our prudence and religion, and poor Father Dominic 
 would not be broken-hearted as he is, in fuhninating vengeance against 
 broken vows and repairing damaged reputations." 
 
 Notwithstanding my father's badinage Slary Halligan seemed ill at 
 ease. 
 
 " Plase you honour, I would wish to be going," she said, " and as 
 Father Dominic is not in the way, I would like to say a word or two to 
 Mr. Hackett." 
 
 * Tlie mountain bivouac of the peasant girls, where during the summer months 
 they attend to the catlle which are then driven to the hills. 
 
HECTOR IIALLOIIAN. 15 
 
 " Ay, certainly ; but, Mary, will you not stop, and sec your mistress ? 
 Doctor, I must trespass on you to ask my wife to come down." 
 
 The parson left the room, and speedily returned with my mother. 
 
 " This, Emily, is an old acquaintance. Not a word, Maiy, about 
 bilberries or the bouillee. Bring her to the nursery, my love — and," 
 he added in a suppressed voice, " be sure you keep her there." 
 
 AVhen the door closed, my father handed the letter he had received 
 from the peasant-girl to the parson, and as the latter read it he became 
 red and pale alternately. 
 
 " Good Heaven ! " he exclaimed, " how could you with this murderous 
 missive in your hand talk lightly with its bearer, and jest with that 
 fiend in woman's form, who brought an order that doomed to death 
 or outrage all that your roof- tree covers ? " 
 
 " Because," replied my father coolly, " it furnished me with a glorious 
 counterstroke. I tlu-ew my eye but hastily over it — read me that pre- 
 cious document !" 
 
 The appearance of the paper was remarkable. At the top, a scull 
 and cross-bones were rudely stamped, and though the handwriting 
 was tolerable, the sentences were ungrammatical, and many of the 
 words misspelt. The letter ran thus : — 
 
 "Dear Pat. 
 
 "I made two attempts to send you information, but your d d 
 
 master, like bad fortune, was always in the way ; my sister Mary will 
 strive to hand you this. To-night our fiite must be decided, for Luke 
 Byrn, Cooney, and your brother are betrayed, and at sunrise to-morrow, 
 if there be a living man in Knockloftie, they're all dead men ; the wit- 
 nesses ai'e to be removed to Donegal, and if they once reach it, Cooney 
 will split, and you and I are certain of the gallows. At one o'clock I'll 
 be with you ; lave the window open, and I'll show the boys the way in, 
 as I know the house, and the smith has keys that will open the yai'd 
 gate. Once when four or five of us gets in, we'll open the hall door 
 for the remainder ; you can finish the master easily when he heai's the 
 first alai'm and rushes from his room ; the rest will be child's play, and 
 then no quarter. The black seal is to this paper; mind, Hackett, you're 
 to watch the Colonel's door, and I'll be first man through the window. 
 No more at present, from your friend and commander, 
 
 "James Halligan." 
 
 " But here's a postscript," and the parson turned the paper. 
 
 " ' When the job's over we'll have a roaring night. As, captain, 
 you knoAv the Colonel's lady — ' " He paused. 
 
 " Read on !" said my father. 
 
 " No, no, — mere ribald nonsense," returned the churchman. 
 
 Colonel O'Halloran snatched the letter from his hand, and in one 
 glance his eye passed over the portion of the paper which had been 
 previously overlooked. To the rxpusc of Halligan's murderous inten- 
 tions my father had listened with cold and contemptuous indifference ; 
 but when he read the postscrijit, a terrible change came over his coun- 
 tenance, and succeeded its previous expression of <;alm defiance. I'Le 
 eye flashed, the brow contracted, and springing from his chair the 
 
16 TIU2 FORTUNES OF 
 
 Colonel paced the room, muttering something between his clenched 
 teeth which was but pai'tiiilly ovei-heard. The outbreak of his passion 
 wixs however as momentary as it had been strong, — and in a minute 
 he resumed his seat, and calmly addressed the Doctor. 
 
 " We have," said my father as he looked at the clock on the mantel, 
 " an hour and twenty minutes to put our house in order, and a tenth 
 portion of the time would be sufficient. You shall be aide-de-camp, 
 Hamilton, — and to Father Dominic we'll entrust the management of the 
 women, and malce his reverence keep matters quiet and administer 
 ghostly consolation until the squall blows over. Mr. Hackett must be 
 secured, but Heaven forbid the honest hangman should be anticipated ! 
 Cut down that bell-rope — now pull the other one — and then sit down 
 and fiU, Doctor, — ay, fill high, Confusion to all traitors! and here comes 
 a most superlative scoundi'cl." 
 
 The butler had promptly answered the summons of the bell. " Bring 
 slippers," said the Colonel, and the order was obeyed. Kneeling he 
 removed his master's boots, placed the slippers on his feet, and was 
 about to rise, when to his astonishment my father's powerful arm 
 prevented it, and in a minute more he was bomul hand and foot, and 
 flung upon the floor in perlect helplessness, with an intimation " deep 
 not loud " that the first movement he attempted of limb or tongue 
 would prove a certain passport to eternity. 
 
 Without hurry or alarm the eflective strength of my father's garri- 
 son was speedily assembled in the great parlour, and sixteen men were 
 found fit for duty in Knockloftie — a number more than sufficient for 
 its defence. To all, arms and cartridges were delivered,— and every 
 musket was cai-efuUy loaded to ensure a certain and effective fire when 
 the moment of action should arrive. My father's orders were brief, 
 clear, and easily comprehended— and as every spot of vantage had been 
 occupied, every window that looked upon the front or back approaches 
 had one or more marksmen assigned for its defence according to its 
 local importjuice. The lights were blinded, the strictest silence was 
 enjoined, and not a trigger was to be drawn until my father gave the 
 signal. Never was a small garrison better prepai'cd or more deter- 
 mined; the soldiei-s, under a belief that they had been specially betrayed, 
 imd that they would have been assailed if their route had been continued, 
 were burning to be revenged upon their intended murderers ; while 
 those who had found shelter from their enemies in Knockloftie, already 
 doomed men, knew also that they were the chief objects of attack, and 
 that no alternative remained to them but to defeat it or to i^erish. 
 Thus circumstanced, Knockloftie had little to fear from open force. 
 True, treachery or surprise might possibly have succeeded. Against 
 the former, if there were iiiith in a stout bell-rope and a parson's knot, 
 the old house for the present was secure ; and I'rom the latter, the inal 
 adresse of Miss Halligan had effectually preserved the garrison. 
 
 When idl his preparations were completed, my father ascended to the 
 upper story of the tower to satisfy himself that his wife and iniant 
 were in safety. On opening the door the chamber presented a sad and 
 striking scene. On one bed, the corpse of the soldier's widow was 
 "laid out," attired in the simple habiliments of the gvaxe used by the 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 17 
 
 Irish peasantry ; and in another, two children were sleeping side by 
 side, unconscious that murder and rapine were abroad, and that guilty 
 steps were moving to this their abode of peace. My mother, bending 
 over both, was murmuring a prayer for their deliverance, while, by the 
 feeble light of a waxen taper, the priest, in a low and monotonous 
 voice, was reading an office for the dead. One other person was there — 
 a worthless woman. Mary Halligan sat before the fire ; she neither 
 spoke nor moved, but with her eyes fixed upon the dying embers, 
 in full conviction that her treachery was suspected or discovered, 
 she quailed before my father's glance, and, while he remained in the 
 apartment, never ventured to look up. 
 
 The Colonel's visit was short : he whispered in his wife's ear 
 assurances of safety, and affectionately kissed her and the infant ; then 
 turning a withering glance upon liis former mistress, he left the 
 chamber and joined the men below. 
 
 The clock chimed three-quarters — no sound was heard that pos- 
 sibly could cause alarm, nor was there a growl from the kennel of the 
 dog — and yet the murderers were at hand unchallenged. No wonder — 
 Hector was in the agonies of death — Curses light upon the traitress ! 
 Mary Halligan, wliile she patted his honest head, had poisoned him ! 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 THE NIGHT ATTACK, 
 
 " All heaven and earth are still — though not in sleep — "' 
 
 " Alas ! that those -who lov'd the most. 
 Forget they ever lov'd at all." — Bykox. 
 
 As the chimes died away, my father took a pistol from tlie table, 
 placed another in his breast, and beckoned the soldier whom he had 
 previously selected to attend him. 
 
 " Honest Philip," said he, addressing the non-commissioned officer, 
 '• keep the lads cool, and wait till you hear my signal. You may 
 txpect a rush in front— don't let that alarm you, the door will defy 
 every effort, to break it down. Aim steadily — one well-directed shot 
 is worth a dozen random ones. I shall have the honour of receiving 
 Mr. Hackett's friends at the pantry -window, and leave them, I trust, no 
 reason to complain that their reception was not warm enough. Should 
 that scounch-el move," and he pointed to the prostrate menial — 
 
 '• It will be his last movement in this world," returned Sergeant 
 Brady. " I'll pin him with a bayonet to the floor." 
 
 "Has the pantry-window been secured?" inquired the divine. 
 
 '•If it has," replied my father, "bolt and bar shall be withdi-awn, 
 and the aperture stand invitingly open." 
 
 '•"What!" said Doctor Hamilton, " to give entrance to a band of 
 murderers?" 
 
 C 
 
 f 
 
18 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " No !" retui'ued my father with stern composure, " to stop it with 
 the carcase of their leader. And now, my lads, be steady — a golden 
 guinea for every wliite-shu't on the lawn at sun-rise ! " 
 
 So saying, the Colonel quitted the apartment, and, accompanied by 
 the attendant, proceeded to the post of danger. 
 
 Leaving the soldier in the passage as a support, my father entered 
 the pantry, unclosed the shutters, and placed himself beside the open 
 casement. For a determined man, the post was excellently adapted. 
 Himself concealed in darkness, all without was visible — for the moon 
 had risen, and although the lofty tower flung its deep shadow across the 
 lower buildings over which it domineered, there was still a narrow alley 
 of light spanning the court -yard, on which each passing object could not 
 fail to be revealed clearly to him who watched within. The time, the 
 circumstances, all, to "coming events" gave an imposing effect. 
 Violence was abroad — and all within prepared for desperate resistance. 
 
 Five minutes — long, long, minutes — passed. Another interval, — 
 and another foUowed; not a light twinkled in the castle — not a sound 
 fell upon the ear. Suddenly, a key grated in the lock — a door opened 
 in the coui"t-yard ; a man appeared — he stopped — listened — advanced 
 — hesitated — retii'ed again — and then spoke in soft whispers to some 
 others. There Avas a pause. Once more the stranger issued from the 
 doorway, crossed the moonlit vista, and stopped before the pantry- 
 window. He passed his arm through the aperture — drew back again, 
 and muttered with evident satisfaction, — " All is right ! the window's 
 open ! " 
 
 Four — six — eight — ten — twelve ! — all issued into moonlight, and 
 grouped themselves around the casement. The leader spoke in 
 smothered tones : — 
 
 " Hackett ! Pat ! —hush ! no reply. All's right ; he's at the 
 Colonel's door. Hackett !" — another pause — " 'Tis safe, and Mary has 
 succeeded. I told you I would show you in ; and now for vengeance ! " 
 
 Ay ! and vengeance that was to be so easily obtained ; for Kuock- 
 loftie appeared buried in the deep repose which ever attends a false 
 security. The leader turned, " No quarter, boys," jumped into the 
 open casement, and added, " Mercy to none ! " 
 
 The words and action were sunidtaneous. Halligan had passed 
 his head already through the aperture, when a voice, like an echo, 
 responded in deeper tones "Mercy to none!" — A pistol exploded — 
 and the robber chief dropped heavily from the window, a dead man ! 
 
 To all, the assailants and the assailed, that fatal shot proved the signal. 
 The expected assault was made upon the front, the more daring of the 
 party rushing on with sledge-hammers to try and force an entrance 
 — but not a stroke fell upon the door. From every aperture a wither- 
 ing cross-fire was opened. It was returned by a random volley, which 
 splintered the windows, but inflicted no loss upon those within, who 
 were already carefully protected. In the rear of the building, a still 
 bloodier repulse attended the night attack -.—while their leader recon- 
 noitred, the ruffian group behind had been covered by a dozen muskets, 
 and within a few moments after the robber's fall, half his companions 
 formed a lifeless heap upon the pavement. 
 
W- 
 
HECTOR O HA1.L0RAN. 19 
 
 "\Anien my father rushed up stairs, the struggle in front was over. 
 Dead and dying men were extended before the door — and in the clear 
 moonlight those who escaped the fire from the hovise, were seen flying 
 in wild disorder. As in lawless efforts generally, numbers had only 
 produced embarrassment, and rendered failure more fatal. 
 
 One glance satisfied my father that the attempt had been fearfully 
 repulsed ; and he hastened to the sad but safe asylum, where those most 
 dear to him had been placed for their security. My mother and the 
 children had been already removed by the priest and servants to their 
 respective chambers — and Colonel O'Halloran, with a dead and living 
 woman, was left in possession of the melancholy apartment. 
 
 Mary Halligan was seated as when my father had quitted the room ; 
 her eyes were fixed upon the wood-fire — a minute passed — and not a 
 word was uttered. My father laid his hand upon her shoulder, "Mary!" 
 said he, " treachery ! and from you ! " 
 
 " And wherefore not ?" exclaimed the peasant girl, as she sprang upon 
 her feet, and boldly returned his glance. "Why should not the deceived 
 in turn become deceivers ? " 
 
 " Wretched woman ! even had I wronged you, would you wreak, 
 vengeance on those who never wished you evil ?" 
 
 The girl sighed heavily. 
 
 " There was a time, Mary, when you would not have betrayed the 
 doomed one to the destroyer, and that victim — me." 
 
 Mary Halligan was deeply affected ; she sobbed, and tears, like rain- 
 drops, fell fast upon the floor. 
 
 " And could a few brief years change that once gentle nature, and 
 so fearfully ? Would nothing satisfy revenge, but death for me — 
 insult for my wife ? " 
 
 " Death — insult ! " she repeated. " Neither was intended." 
 
 " Read — 'tis the paper you gave me by mistake." 
 
 Mary Halligan cast her eyes upon the scroll ; her lips and checks 
 grew pale ; her hand shook violently ; the paper dropped upon the 
 floor ; and turning her eyes upwards, she exclaimed, " As I was un- 
 conscious that such villany was designed, so may Heaven grant mc 
 pardon ! " 
 
 " Wliat brought you here, then ?" 
 
 " To save my uncle from the gallows. They told me that witnesses 
 who must convict him and others were sheltered in this house ; and 
 that coidd they but be carried off and concealed until after the assizes, 
 then the prisoners' lives were safe. They stated that they only wanted 
 the arms deposited in Knockloftie ; — that they would swear you to 
 quit the country — and thus intimidate those who had followed your 
 example and ventured to remain. Before I consented to carry the 
 letter which my brother wished to have conveyed to Hackett, he swore 
 upon the chapel-altar where the party had collected, that not one hair 
 of your head should suffer injury. May God forgive him !" 
 
 " To that prayer, Mary, I add a sincere amen ] He is gone to his 
 account— a perjurer !" 
 
 " Gone to his account ! " exclaimed the girl. " Is he deixd ? Who 
 kiUedhim?" 
 
 c2 
 
20 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 *' He fell by the hand of one whom he would have more than mur- 
 dered!" 
 
 " Tlien am I now indeed alone upon the v/orld !" A long and liar- 
 vowing silence followed. " Denis," she said, " I dare not curse, and 
 cannot bless you. Four short years have passed. How bitterly have 
 all things changed ? " 
 
 " Stop, Mary ! From my soul, I pity and believe you. You tell me 
 that you did not know the purport of this night attack ! " 
 
 " God knows, I did not. You wrecked my happiness ; but still I 
 would not — could not subdue feelings now best forgotten. Forgotten, 
 said I? — never !" 
 
 Mary HaUigan had spoken to my fatlier in her native tongue ; and 
 those who are intimate with that portion of the kingdom where the 
 Celtic language is still retained, will remember with what poetic imagery, 
 the Irish peasantry at times detail their mingled story of grief and joy, 
 wrong and suffering. 
 
 Mary was one of those on whom nature stamps the grace vrhich art 
 idly or imperfectly can simulate. Her voice had all 
 
 " The sweetness of the mountaiu-tongue ;" 
 
 and more affecting still, all that it uttered seemed to come directly 
 from the heart. 
 
 " I loved you, Denis — ay, loved in all the madness with which 
 woman loves. The peasant girl never di*eamed that birth and rank 
 had divided us immeasurably. She never thought that she should be 
 wooed and won, and cast aside for others. She knew nothing of the 
 world. Those, for whom Heaven had designed her, sought her, and 
 sued, and were rejected. You came. Six years had changed us — 
 the child had become a girl — the boy had become a man. There was 
 joy and merriment at Knockloftie — I was your chosen partner in the 
 dance — and you would leave your dogs upon the moor, to steal to the 
 bouiUee, and sit for hours beside me. Is it to be wondered at that I loved 
 with the ardour of a first passion — and the undoubting confidence of 
 woman ? Wliile no sound was heard above the rushing waterfall, you 
 plucked heath and wild-flowers from the bank, placed them in my 
 Lair, and swore you would be constant. Fool that I was ! I believed 
 you, — hid them in my bosom, — and before they faded, I found myself 
 deserted and betrayed." She paused, — her agitation was fearful ; but 
 a flood of tears relieved it, and she thus continued : — " You went to 
 another land, — the sea rolled between us, — and were you forgotten? 
 Oh, no ! In fancy, I saw you still upon the moor — in sleep, I sate 
 beside you on the heather — your name was mingled in my prayers — 
 and when one was offered for my own sins, three were poured warai 
 from the heart, to implore a blessing on the absent one. Well, well ; 
 the dream is over, — the spell is broken, — and in this world you and I 
 shall never meet again. Farewell, Colonel. There were two beings 
 between whom this heart once was shared. I look my last upon the 
 living one — and, too soon, I shall have looked my last upon the dead. 
 I dare not press that hand — there's blood upon it ; and— oh, God ! that 
 blood — a brother's ! " 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 21 
 
 The priest, -vvho had -witnessed the termination of tliis painful inter- 
 view, led Mary HaUigan from the room. Her brother's body, with 
 those of the other lawless men who had fallen or been wounded in the 
 night attray, were already by my father's orders removed to an 
 adjacent village. Presently, the sky was overcast, the moon withdrew 
 her light, and a heavy snow shower feU for miles around, covering 
 the surface of the ground ; and when morning dav.-ned no traces of a 
 recent affray were seen, and not a blood-stain was visible. One me- 
 lancholy memorial of foul treachery alone remained : — hidden by 
 a sward of snow, poor Caesar lay before his empty kennel ; and, true to 
 the last, even in the agonies of death he had howled a bold defiance at 
 his enemies. 
 
 " Emily," said my father, when breakfast was removed, " I need 
 not tell you that a soldier's wife must always hold herself in readiness 
 to move. Until better times arrive, you and the boy must leave this 
 unquiet mansion. Nay, start not, love ! I shall be your companion. 
 That fading cheek and heavy eye bear silent evidence that cannot be 
 mistaken. There is not in this old tower a single stone that I do not 
 regard with veneration ; but were this gloomy pile a palace, and yoii 
 unhappy, it should be abandoned. I have already sent a requisition 
 for an escort, and do you get all you wish to be removed in marching 
 order. To society, — to myself, — I owed a duty; that duty is dis- 
 •charged. A tenderer claim remains. Can I forget, dear Emily, that 
 for me you gave up the convent's quiet ? — that for me title and wealth 
 were thi-own away ? — that for me even the stronger ties of kindred 
 were dissolved ? Can I forget that though a gentle spirit like yours 
 trembles at a life of danger, and recoils from scenes of bloodshed, still 
 not a murmur passed your lips ? — not a remonstrance urged upon me 
 your apprehensions ? Enough ; — a soldier's pride would prompt me to 
 remain where we are, — whUe a husband's affections demand that my 
 wife and cliild should he pLaced in full security. The struggle is 
 ended, and pride must yield to love." 
 
 Before the last word was spoken, a happy wife was shedding 
 tears of joy upon her husband's bosom. Instant preparations were 
 made ; such valuables as were portable were packed up ; Knockloftie 
 for a time formally abandoned ; and ere another week elapsed, my 
 mother, my foster-brother and myself found ourselves in perfect 
 safety — and for some months succeeding became residents of the 
 metropolis. 
 
 My first anniversary formed a remarkable epoch in the story of our 
 house ; and as many subsequent adventures in my humble history 
 were I'eferable to that event, I shall briefly narrate the more imme- 
 iliate conseqviences that resulted. Mary Halligan quitted the coimtry, 
 as it was believed, to reside with some relatives in the west. Hackett 
 received sentence of death, but the extreme penalty of the law was 
 commuted into transportation. Sergeant Brady retired on a pension, 
 and became henchman to my father. Mr. Hamilton, after Knockloftie 
 was deserted, with a fatal imprudence stiU continued in the neighbour- 
 hood. A few weeks afterwards, the house where he resided was forced 
 by a numerous banditti, the unfortunate clergyman dragged from his 
 
22 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 concealment, carried to the door, and i-lauglitered under circumstances 
 of fearful barbarity.* 
 
 Time passed,— months slijiped away, — and my mother's birth-day 
 returned. That morning, a letter containing a bank-note for five 
 hundred pounds was received. It was addressed to the lady — with a 
 brief intimation in an unknown hand, that a similar gift should be 
 annutilly presented. Another brief period passed, and another letter 
 came. It brought but sorry nev/s. Knockloftie was burned to the 
 ground; — not a fragment that was combustible remained; — and what 
 was once " a merrie hall" now frowned upon the ocean in black and 
 ruined loneliness. 
 
 As my father read the letter, a change came over his face, and revealed 
 to the inquiring eyes then bent upon it, that evil tidings had arrived. 
 
 " Denis," said my mother, " wliat is wrong ?" 
 
 " Nothing, love, but that Knockloftie — " 
 
 "Wliatofit? Goon." 
 
 " Is, with all that it contained, a heap of ashes ! " 
 
 " Good Heaven !" — and my mother crossed herself, — " are we not 
 ruined, Denis ? " 
 
 " No, no, love ; not exactly ruined. I had the vanity to call my 
 abiding place ' a castle.' Well, we must change the name ; and surely 
 ' cottage' will sound as sweetly." 
 
 " Pshaw !" said the lady, " is that all ?" 
 
 " Wliy — I can spare a horse or two,— part with a dozen dogs, — and 
 then, my love, we wUl require the fewer servants." 
 
 " And the carriage, — what need of it ?" exclaimed the lady. 
 
 " Well, well ; possibly if things come to the worst, it too might be 
 dispensed with." 
 
 " And then my jewels, Denis !" — and my mother's eyes brightened 
 with delight — " ay, those useless baubles. I have heard that they 
 are precious ! They shall be sold, and — " 
 
 "Never — by Heaven!" exclaimed my father, as he spurned the 
 chair over the carpet, and strode across the room. In another minute 
 liis calmness had returned, and my mother was sitting on his knee, 
 smiUng away with woman's tact every recollection of annoyance ; and 
 propounding with the sweetest pliilosophy upon earth, visionary plans 
 for future happiness. 
 
 Again the postman's knock was heard, and another letter was pre- 
 sented. My father flung it unopened on the table. " Curse the par- 
 ticulars!" he exclaimed, "what matters it whether the old roof-tree 
 feU by carelessness or villany ? " 
 
 My mother impressed a consolatory kiss upon her husband's cheek. 
 
 " Read it, love," said he. " You and I have no secrets, Emily." 
 
 The lady broke the seal, and looked at the signature. 
 
 " Wlio is Constantine Mac Donough?" she inquired. 
 
 " A veiy singular old man ; a distant relation of my mother. Many 
 years ago, my father and he quarrelled at an election. They fought 
 in half an hour, — left the ground after three shots had been dis- 
 
 * Historically true. 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 23 
 
 charged, — and bvOth refused a reconciliation. What was the cause of 
 quarrel, I never could discover from my father ; indeed, I question 
 whether the worthy man liimself even knew what it was distinctly ; and 
 with Mr. Mac Donough, of course, I never had even any acquaintance. 
 He hves a bachelor, and report states, that he is "sery wealthy and 
 very eccentric." 
 
 " Lived I my love ; the old man's dead." 
 
 " Dead I " exclaimed my father. 
 
 " And has left you heir to all his property ?" 
 
 The Colonel sprang from his chaii* — his soUtary arm encircled my 
 mother's waist, as he pi'essed her passionately to his heart. 
 
 " Emily," said he, '" when the sad tidings arrived this morning that 
 we were houseless, I felt only for the boy and thee. Well, before the 
 same sun went down, dove-like you came, the harbinger of happiness. 
 The ' barren heritage ' I quitted with regret, will be amply replaced 
 by the rich lands of Eallucan ; and, once more, a peacefid home — such 
 as we had in England, love — is ours. Never despond, Emily — and even 
 in his darkest hour let an Irishman trust to the lady of the wheel — 
 for I verily beUeve, if there be a spot on earth for which the blind 
 baggage has a particular fancy, blessed Saint Patrick I that island is 
 your own." 
 
 CHAPTER lY 
 
 MY ENTREE ON THE WORLD. 
 
 " My father bless'd me fervcEtly, 
 
 Yet did not much complain ; 
 
 But sorely will my mother sigh 
 
 Till I come back again." — Chtlde Harold. 
 
 The residence and domain so opportunely bequeathed to Colonel 
 O'Halloran, formed a striking contrast to his ancient home. Like the 
 domicile of Justice Shallow, every thing about Kuockloftie might have 
 been described as " barren all," with the quahfication of " marry, good 
 air,'' while Killucan was situated in an inland county remarkable for its 
 fcrtihty. The house was a large and commodious building, almost 
 concealed by trees, the growth of at least a century ; the pai'ks were 
 rich and well laid down ; comfort was within the dwelling, — plenty 
 Avithout it ; and as they say in Connaught, no man " came into a 
 snugger sitting down" than my worthy father. 
 
 Here ten years of boyhood passed away ; and here at the feet of that 
 gifted Gamaliel, father Dominic, my foster-brother and myself were 
 indoctrinated. The priest had borne the departure of my parents with 
 fdl the resignation a Christian man could muster ; but as he declared 
 afterwards, the destruction of Knockloftie faii'ly broke his heart. 
 ^Vlien his patron unexpectedly succeeded to a goodly inheritance, it 
 
21 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 is difficult to decide whethei' to the cliurclimau or the commander, tliis 
 tbrtunate event caused tlie greater satisfaction. At the first summons, 
 father Dominic abandoned his wikl charge, and resumed the official 
 duties in our establishment ; — said mass for my mother, confessed the 
 maids, aided and assisted the Colonel in the diurnal demolition of three 
 bottles of antiquated port, and endeavoured into the bargain, to knock 
 Latin into me, and " the fear of God," as he ctdled it, into the heart 
 of my foster-brother. How far either attempt proved successful, it is 
 not for me to say. As to myself, Dominic occasionally declared that 
 I should try tlie temper of a saint ; and as to Marc Antony, he rather 
 hoped than expected that he might not '" spoil a market ;" meaning 
 thereby, that the aforesaid Marc Antony would be hanged. 
 
 But, alas ! from the pupilage of that worthy churchman. Marc and 
 I were fated to be delivered. Father Dominic caught fever at the bed- 
 side of a sick tenant ; and to the universal regret of the Avhole house- 
 hold, he went the way which all, priest and levite, are doomed to go. 
 At the time, his loss was severely felt, and after-experience did not tend 
 to lessen it. Father Grady, who in spiritual matters became his suc- 
 cessor, was iU fitted to step into poor Dominic's shoes. He was a 
 low-born, illiterate, intermeddling priest, of forbidding exterior and 
 repulsive manners. His gaucheries disgusted my mother, and my father 
 fired at his vulgar arrogance. Except professionally, the visits of the 
 })riest became infrequent ;^and when the maids returned from con- 
 fession Avith a route made out for the Reek,* tliey would call to 
 memory the gentle penances of father Dominic, — offer a tear as a 
 tribute to his memory, — and murmur a "Heaven be merciful to his 
 soul." The first consequence of the death of Father Dominic was my 
 being transmitted to the school of Enniskillen, while my foster-brother 
 finished his education under the instruction of the village pedagogue. 
 As to the latter, a more unpromising disciple never figured on a slate ; 
 but, to give the devil his due. Marc Antony was even as his enemies 
 allowed, the best boxer of his inches in the parish. 
 
 ..Plow quickly years roll on! Six passed rapidly away. — I grew 
 fast — manhood came on apace — every day the thrall of school-disci- 
 pline became more irksome, and made me long to be emancipated. I 
 had indeed sprung up with marvellous rapidity, and I looked witli 
 impatience to the moment when I should make my entree on the world. 
 Nor was I kept much longer in suspense, for a mandate from my 
 father unexpectedly arrived, commanding my return to KilcuUen, and 
 acquainting me that I had been gazetted to a second lieutenancy in 
 the Twenty-first fusileers. With a joyous heart I took leave of my com- 
 panions ; exchanged forgiveness with the ushers ; flung bojdiood to the 
 winds : and, ignorant of the world as an infant, at eighteen years, 
 deemed myself in pride of heart a man. 
 
 It was singular enough that the day of my return also proved to be 
 the anniversary of my birth ; and of this I was duly apprized by 
 Sergeant Brady, as he unclosed the gate to let me in. Having re- 
 turned the honest squeeze with which the non-commissioned officer 
 
 * A lofty mountain in the west of Ireland, where Roman Catholic penances are 
 pei-formed. 
 
HECTOR HALLORAN. 25 
 
 bade me welcome, I gave my horse to one of the eternal hangers-on 
 whom I overtook lounging slowly home from the village tobacco-shop, 
 and passed through a sort of pleasure-ground that led directly to the 
 house. Turning the hedge, I came suddenly on Susan, my mother's 
 maid. She was spreading caps and musUns on the bushes — and, never 
 before, did her eyes look so black, or her cheeks half so rosy. She 
 uttered a faint scream. 
 
 " Holy Virgin ! Master Hector, is it you ? ' 
 
 " Arrah, Susan, my beauty, to be sure it is." And with Hibernian 
 affection we flew into each other's ai'ms — and down went the basket with 
 my mother's finery. I never reckoned the kisses I inflicted on the 
 Abigail ; but, poor soul, to do her justice, she bore them patiently. 
 " Go, Hector, dear," she muttered poutingly, '•' there are holes in the 
 hedge, and some one might tell the mistress," Then, as if the recent 
 contact of our lips had for the first time exliibited its sinful impro- 
 priet)', she crossed herself like a true catholic, and continued, as I 
 moved away, '• Blessed Mary I had the priest seen us, I were undone. 
 Lord ! but he 's grown ! Hark ! I hear a foot. Hurry in, Master 
 Hector. Your mother is dying to see you ; and dinner has been 
 waiting half an hour." 
 
 My reception by my parents was as warm as it was characteristic. 
 Both were in the drawing-room when I entered it ; and in a moment 
 I was locked in my mother's arms. " How Jiandsome ! " said she, as 
 tears rolled down her cheeks. " Alas ! that he should be devoted to 
 that horrible profession, Denis, and that his name should some fatal 
 day be recorded in that list of bloodshed which always damps the 
 joy of victory ;" and she pointed to the official account of a Peninsular 
 battle which had that morning reached Kilcullen, 
 
 My father's was a very different reception. Moulded of sterner 
 stuff, he eyed me as a crimp sergeant scrutinizes a doubtful recruit ; 
 then shaking me by the hand, he proceeded regularly with his exa- 
 mination. 
 
 " By the Loi'd ! a finer lad never tapped a cartouch-box. Five feet" 
 eleven and a quarter at eighteen ! He'll be size enough for the Life- 
 guards in a twelvemonth. Zounds ! what is the woman snivelling 
 about ? Is it because her son comes home figure for a flanker, instead of 
 growing a sneaking, shambling, round-shoiddered, flat-footed, fish-eater, 
 that the devil coiddn't drill ? But here comes the summons to dinner." 
 
 When the cloth had been removed, and my mother had retired, the 
 Colonel reverted to the first grand movement in my life, on which he 
 descanted most learnedly ; and, a little military pedantry apart, his advice 
 and opinions were sound and soldierly. He reprobated play — gave 
 serious warnings against debt — discouraged gallantry, and inculcated 
 the necessity of duelling. He lamented, in the course of his harangue, 
 the loss of my ancient preceptor Father Dominic ; to himself, he stated, 
 that the loss was irreparable — he could not, unfortunately, drink the 
 left hand against the right, nor uncork a bottle without being 
 
 bothered by a d d servant. He complained that he felt a twinge 
 
 in his infinn shoulder — well, that was rheumatism ; he had also an 
 obnubilation in his eyes — but that was bile ; it could not be what 
 
26 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 he di-ank : — ^by the way, he had two bottles of Page's best in. — He 
 should go to bed — exhorted me to be up at cock-crow — gave me some 
 parting admonitions — an order on a DubUn tailor for an outfit^a bundle 
 of country bank-notes — his blessing into the bai-gain— shook my hand — 
 and, with the assistance of Sergeant Brady, todtUed off to his apart- 
 ment. 
 
 The Commander was scarcely gone, when Susan's black eye peered 
 into the room cautiously, to ascertain that all was quiet. 
 
 " Hist I Master Hector ! Is the Colonel gone to bed ?" 
 
 "He's safe for the night, my fair Susan. The house is all our own. 
 Come in — shut the door, for I want to confess you " — 
 
 " And finish the godly exercise you commenced in the flower-garden ! 
 No, no. Master Hector ; no more of that. Come, your mother wants 
 to see you alone — I'll light you to her di-essing-room." 
 
 I attended the demoiselle immediately, and was inducted to her lady's 
 chamber. When the door opened I found her seated at a work-table, with 
 a book of religious exercises and a huge rosary before her. Bui-sting 
 into tears, she clasped me to her bosom, and muttered in an under 
 voice, " Sit down, Hector — many months have elapsed since we met, 
 and many more may probably pass over before we meet again. And 
 so they have destined you for that horrible profession — and you ai'e 
 going to-mon'ow ?" 
 
 " Yes, madam, by peep of day." 
 
 " Well, Hector, will you in one thing oblige me, and grant yoiu- 
 mother a request ?" 
 
 " Undoubtedly, madam." 
 
 She placed a purse in my hand — and taking from the leaves of her 
 Missal a small silken bag, opened my shirt collar, and bound it round 
 my neck. I smiled at the ceremony, and submitted. It was, of course, 
 some chai'm or reliquary ; and though the one-ai-med commander would 
 have laughed, at what he would have considered on my part a s\Tiiptom 
 of apostasy, I thought it was no crime to carry an inch or two of silk 
 upon my person, when my compliance would render happy a mother 
 who loved me so tenderly. 
 
 " Hector," said she, after investing me with this important amulet, 
 " promise, for my sake, that you will wear it night and day ; and, 
 until misfortune overtakes, and all other hope fails — which Heaven 
 grant may never happen ! — that you will not unclose the cover, or 
 read the writing of the Gospel."* 
 
 I gave the pledge she required ; took an affectionate leave ; and, 
 lighted by Susan, returned to the parlour. 
 
 Lobbies, like flower-knots, are dangerous places for adieux ! Poor 
 Susan was faintly remonstrating against a second kiss, when a third 
 actor popped upon the stage unexpectedly, and terminated at once the 
 contest. The intruder was my foster-brother. All parties e\'inced 
 annoyance ; Marc Antony looked very silly, and the demoiselle, 
 bounding up the stairs, leaned over the badustrades, and spoke a hurried 
 farewell. 
 
 * Gospels are worn in Ireland as a protection against diseases and " diablerie." 
 
HECTOli OHALLORAX. 27 
 
 " Heaven bless jou, Master Hector — mind jour poor mother's parting 
 Avords, and all prosperity attend you." Then, turning a wratliful look 
 at the " fosterer,"* she continued, " Don't mind what that false villain 
 says. Ah, you wicked wretch ! ai'e you not afraid the roof will fall ?" 
 and, shaking her clenched hand at him, vanished. 
 
 What could have roused the anger of the dark-eyed Abigail was to 
 me a puzzle : I entered the paiiour, and the crest-fallen fosterer fol- 
 lowed, and closed the door. 
 
 '•' Vfhy, Marc, what's the matter ? Your old friend, Susan, seems 
 in but indiiferent temper with you." 
 
 !Mr. O' Toole fiddled with his hat, picked the wool off by pinches, and 
 appeared wofully confused. 
 
 " Did you want me, Marc ? or was it Susan you were looking for ?" 
 
 " I just wanted to speak to you," said my foster-brother, " for fear 
 I should miss you in the morning." 
 
 " WeU, Marc, here I am." 
 
 '"' I'm going. Master Hectoi", to try my fortune either in England, or 
 the North." 
 
 '• What ! and quit my father's service ? Think well of this. Marc." 
 
 " WTiy, troth, I can't hold the place, and all on account of an acci- 
 dent." 
 
 " Indeed I what happened you ? " 
 
 Marc picked the hat anew. " I'm in the middle of trouble, and the 
 sooner I'm off, the better." 
 
 " Broken heads or broken vows ; or, probably, a mistm-e of both ? " 
 
 " Devil a head I broke since the fair of Carrick, and the Carneys 
 brought it on themselves ; and in honesty I'm at every man's defiance," 
 returned the fosterer. 
 
 " Then what would you do in England, may I ask ?" 
 
 '' What would I do in England ?" he repeated, like an echo. " Can't 
 I do anything? — shear, mow, wisp a horse, whip hounds, jump 
 two-and-twenty feet, thi'ow stone and sledge — and take my own part 
 in fair and pattern ? " 
 
 " Friend Marc, most of these accomplishments would only secm-e 
 you a lodging in the cage, or a settlement in the stocks. But, in a 
 word, what brings you away ? " 
 
 " Just Biddy O'Dwyer, the dairymaid — the devil's luck attend her I '" 
 
 " Phew ! Go on. Marc." 
 
 " She wants me to marry her ! " 
 
 " And, I suppose, has pressing reasons for making the request ? " 
 
 " The devil a reason, only she took me to a cake."f 
 
 " I comprehend the rest." 
 
 " Feaks ! it Avas all her own fault — she would keep dancing to the 
 last. The night was dark, and we were hearty. | I lost my Avay — and 
 she her chai-acter." 
 
 * Anglice, foster-brother. 
 
 t Cakes are nightly assemblies common in the Arest of Ireland, and bolden for 
 the purposes of dancing, drinking, and courting. In returning from these festive 
 meetings, ladies' reputations and gentlemen's skulls are occasionally severely 
 damaged. J Anglice, nearly drunk. 
 
28 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " Well! and why not repair the damage, Marc?" 
 
 " Is it me ! and she four years older ? By this book " — and he 
 kissed his hat religiously — " for all the ladies and priests that ever 
 wore cap or vestment, I would not marry ye, Kitty O'Dwycr!" 
 
 " "Well, Marc, you are upon this point the best judge." 
 
 *' There's no use in concciiling anything, and you, my foster-brother, 
 jNIaster Hector. Kitty's a great Catholic, and a Carmelite to boot — and 
 my lady and Father Grady will fairly banish me the country, when they 
 Jiear that it was through me she got the blast." 
 
 " Rebel, Marc ! Refuse, point-blank. Hold out manfully — and 
 neither priest, nor bishop, can make you marry, if you don't like it." 
 
 "And then I'll be made a woi'ld's wonder of!" and Marc Antony 
 groaned at the very thought. " Called out in the chapel — cursed from 
 the altar — bundled off to Ball — trotted up Croagh Patrick — ay, and as 
 Father Grady will stick to Kitty like a burr, I may be despatched to 
 Lough Dhai-g * with gravel in my shoes." 
 
 " Bad enough. Marc. And pray what is to be done ?" 
 
 " The devil a choice have I left," said the fosterei*, with a groan, 
 '• good, bad, nor indifferent, but list or turn Protestant." 
 
 " Awkward alternatives." 
 
 Marc smiled. " And would I not have an elegant life of it after- 
 wards in the servants'-hiill ? Sorra two men in the house that I can't 
 lick ; but what could I do with the women ? No, no, Master Hector ! 
 —I'll Ust." 
 
 '•' Think of it. Marc." 
 
 " I have thought of it already. The priest and my lady will hear 
 all in the morning, and, faith, I'U give them leg-bail in the meantime. 
 Are you not going to Dublin, Master Hector." 
 
 " I am." 
 
 '•' Then, by the blessin' of God, there will be two of us there soon." 
 
 " Marc, have you any money ?" 
 
 " Not a rap — but plenty for the taking it. I never go to Boyle 
 upon a message, but there are half-a-dozen crimps at my heels ; and 
 every recruiting party that passes by, eyes me as if I had the cockade 
 already mounted." 
 
 " If you are determined. Marc, I shall say nothing more ; but before 
 you choose your regiment, let me know, and probably the Colonel may 
 stand your friend." 
 
 " That I will, Master Hector. But, Holy Virgin, what an uproar 
 the house will be in when they miss me in the morning ! The priest 
 roaring here — my lady sending there — Kitty singing wirrestruej in 
 the dairy — and the ould Colonel delighted at the rookawn, and shouting 
 Devil mend her !" 
 
 I laughed heartily at Marc's fanciful description of a scene, which his 
 absence would so certainly occasion. 
 
 " I must be off," continued the fosterer, " and mind. Master Hector, 
 Ave'll meet when you least expect it." 
 
 I slipped a bank-note into the fosterer's hands — Marc disappeared — 
 
 * A holy lake in the north of Ireland, f " Och -tyirrestrue," an Irish lamentation. 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN. 29 
 
 and I sought mv pillow. Where Mr. O'Toole bestowed himself, I 
 know not — but it was an eventful night for both. I, about to 
 make my first start upon tlie stage of life, and honest Marc Antony 
 Hying from a choice of evils — matrimony or penance. 
 
 A lovelier morning never broke than that on which I took my de- 
 parture from Kilcullen. It was late in September. The hoar-fro^fc 
 curled gently upwai-ds, pelding to the earUest sunbeams, as I rode 
 from the stable-yard. Every thing was exciting to the spirits : the 
 blackbird whistled in the copse, the partridge was calling from tlie 
 stubble, the sheep-bells tinkled merrily, and all seemed happy and 
 rejoicing. 
 
 Never did a lighter-bosomed gentleman quit his father's liouse. 
 Here was I, a holder of the king's commission, master of the best 
 fencer in Eoscommon, one hundred pounds in my pocket, a case 
 of pistols at my saddle-bow ; while, with a loose arm and a stout 
 heart, I found myself jogging fairly on, though " half the world were 
 sleeping." 
 
 I rode quickly forward : miles vanished, and at four o'clock I had 
 left my home thirty miles behind. With my future route I was unac- 
 quainted ; but it ran through a wild barony, bleak though beautiful 
 enough, interspersed vrith lulls and valleys, and tliickly studded with 
 lakes and riviilets. Tlie road was grass-grown and disused ; but, 
 being shorter and practicable to horsemen, I followed it rather than 
 ride a few miles round. To dine and feed my horse, I halted at a 
 public-house where four roads met ; and, after an hour's rest, com- 
 menced my journey anew, to gain the mountain-village, where, a- 
 my host apprized me, I was to sojourn for the night. 
 
 The lonely inn appeai'ed that day to have no lack of customers. 
 Dm-ing my brief stay travellers stopped repeatedly, or drank spirits 
 at the door and hurried on. They generally rode in companies of some 
 hodf-dozcn, were mounted upon country horses, and, from having a 
 couple of kegs suspended across the croup, their calling was no mys- 
 tery. Hhcit distillation in this wild district was then extensively 
 carried on, — and men engaged in this demordizing traffic, like those 
 who stopped at this house of entertainment, were constantly traversing 
 the mountain-road, smuggling the prohibited liquor, or returning for a 
 fresh supply. 
 
 One party, consisting of three persons of rather a superior class, 
 remained for thnner. ITiey addressed their conversation occasionally 
 to me, and evinced great curiosity to find out the place of my destina- 
 tion, and the reason that I preferred the mountain-road to that usually 
 taken by ordinary travellers. I felt no disposition to be communi- 
 cative on these points, and the strangers were far from satisfied witli 
 my repUes. "When my mare was brought to the door, my holsters did 
 not escape their observation ; and as I rode away, I overheard the 
 tallest of the three exclaim, '-By Heaven! Ill bet five poimds that'- 
 die —" 
 
 I covild not hear the remainder of the remark. The occurrence was 
 not agreeable, however, with ten miles of a desolate ride before me. I 
 had other besides personal cares. In my life I never had possessed 
 
30 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 one-fourth the sum I can-ied ; and the pocket, rathei* than the person, 
 alarmed me. I thought the matter over. I saw no fire-arms -with the 
 strangers, and of course I was faiidy a match for three. My mare was 
 fast ; and I determined quietly to surmount a long and gradual rise, 
 make play down the falling ground, and then bid pursuit defiance. 
 
 Ignorance of the locality rendered my last design abortive. Half 
 way up the hiU, a path but little used, if one could judge from its un- 
 frequent hoof-marks, branched from the main road. I hesitated which 
 to take ; but of two bad paths, I chose the better, and followed the more 
 beaten route. 
 
 I rode a mile, topped the acclivity, and followed a path skirting a 
 higliland lake and traversing a long and heathy level. Anxiously I 
 looked back, but not a traveller was visible. My fears vanished — and 
 I smiled to think how very nervous the possession of property makes 
 a man. 
 
 The scene before me was wild and picturesque. A long ravine 
 skirted by a mountain-stream, tliat occasionally ci'ossed the road 
 through half-ruined bridges, descended between two lofty hills which 
 completely shut out the setting sun. At the bottom of this romantic 
 pass, a lake of considerable extent, interspersed with numerous 
 islands, received the rivulets that hurried down the valley. Li front, 
 the sun was setting gloriously, and flung across the gorge of the ravine 
 a curtain of burning gold which rested on the waters of the lake 
 below. It was, indeed, a splendid landscape — and tradition added to 
 its interest. 
 
 On an eminence that overlooked the road and pass, the ruins of a 
 square building were visible, now so much dilapidated, that it was 
 impossible to determine whether it had been originally designed for 
 the purposes of religion or of defence. In the centre of a green patch, 
 scarcely a pistol-shot from the dismantled tower, the scathed stem of a 
 solitary oak w^as standing. As it was, it would never have arrested 
 the traveller's eye, had not a huge cairn of stones beneath it intimated 
 that this lonely tree had witnessed some scenes of bloodshed. I puUed 
 up my horse and viewed the cairn and ruin with attention, for my 
 curiosity was excited, and chance enabled me to gratify it. An elderly, 
 wild-looking, half-clad peasant was loitering on the road-side, attending 
 a score or two of sheep. Abandoning his charge, he joined me wil- 
 lingly ; and in very excellent Irish replied to my questions, and com- 
 municated the traditional story of the place. 
 
 " What Avas that building, friend ; and what does yonder cairn com- 
 memorate ? " 
 
 " The story's long," replied the peasant. 
 
 '' And so is the mountain-road. "Was it death by accident or 
 treachery?" 
 
 The peasant paused a moment, and then drily answered, " There 
 was no accident in the business, though three men perished ; one was 
 murdered and tvro were hanged." 
 
 " Do you know the particulars ?" 
 
 " It would be strange if I did not. I was born in these hills." 
 
 *' Indeed!" 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 31 
 
 " Ay, and my fathers before. We have been for centuries herdsmen 
 in these mountains. I have never been thirty miles from the spot 
 where we stand ; and every rock, and rill, and hillock, are familiar 
 from eai'ly childliood, for on them my eyes first opened." 
 
 " What was the building ?" 
 
 " A barrack, for soldiers to protect travellers from plunder." 
 
 " And the cairn — " 
 
 " Proves that their protection was sometimes unavailing." 
 
 " Could not an ai'mcd force restrain vagabonds from plundering?" 
 
 " WTierefore, it is hard to say," returned the herdsman. '• Are you 
 
 y^oing to B to-morrow ?" 
 
 " " I am." 
 
 " You are in haste thither ? " 
 
 " I must be there by noon." 
 
 " The special commission sits there the following day. They say it 
 will go hard with the men who killed the ganger ? " 
 
 " 'Tis said so ; and if the circumstances attendant on the murder 
 be such as are generally believed, they wiU deserve their fate." 
 
 The peasant eyed me sharply, and then, with assumed indifference, 
 observed, 
 
 " The devil is painted always blacker than he is ; and something 
 may still come out in the prisoners' favour. I fear, poor fellows, that 
 they will be prosecuted hai-d." 
 
 " That you may be certain of." 
 
 " Well," continued my companion, " no doubt Bradley's death was 
 sudden. But could it be otherwise ? Many an aching heart he caused, 
 and the curse of ruined men and houseless children pursued him." 
 
 As he spoke, we crossed a small hillock, where the mountain-path, 
 which had diverged to the right, once more united itself to the main 
 road. The lake extended itself for more than a mile on one side ; and 
 on the other a swamp, impassable alike to man and horse, stretched 
 for a considerable distance between the rugged causeway and the bases 
 of the contiguous high grounds. A deep stream winding through the 
 centime of the morass and creeping lazily beneath a ruined bridge, lost 
 itself in the blue waters of the lake. It was fortunate that my new 
 acquaintance was beside me, or I should have been puzzled where to 
 cross the stream ; but, on inquiry, he told me there was a ford, and 
 offered to point it out. For half an hour we jogged on sociably toge- 
 ther, chatting on a subject which seemed to occupy my companion's 
 every thought, — the approaching trial of the murderers. From time 
 to time I observed, however, that he looked anxiously behind him ; 
 and suddenly a distant sound like that of coming horsemen made me 
 tui'n my head. It was not fancy — three persons showed themselves 
 above the ridge ; they were the strangers I had encountered at the 
 inn, and from the pace at which they rode, I had no doubt but they 
 were in pursuit of me. 
 
 Indeed, from the first moment they discovered me, their object was 
 perfectly apparent. One of them pointed me out ; and, considering 
 the rugged path they had to traverse, they increased their pace to a 
 rapidity that appeared surprising. 
 
32 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Nor was I insensible to coming- dangei\ Wliat was to be done, and 
 how wore they to be avoided ? Before me, a broken bridge ; beliind, 
 A pressing enemy ; and escape cut off. I could observe, from nume- 
 rous hoof-marks in the bog, the place where the river was fordable. 
 My mare was fresh, and willingly obeyed a call. I started forwai'd 
 at a rattling pace, and once across the water, had little doubt of effecting 
 an escape. 
 
 Whatever were the herdsman's original intentions towards me — 
 whether his designs were " wicked or charitable" — tlie appearance of 
 the strangers made him at once a foe. The instant I spurred my mai-e, 
 he caught up a stone and flung it with such precision, that it knocked 
 my hat off, but, fortunately, only grazed my head. Then applying his 
 finger to his lips, he uttered a wild and piercing whistle, which echoed 
 through the rocks behind, and was repeated among the distant moun- 
 tains. The signal was answered promptly. A dozen men, who had 
 been resting in a hollow out of sight, suddenly sprang up ; some 
 rushed to the ford — others occupied the road — and all seemed ready 
 and determined to bar my forther progress. 
 
 I had brief time for consideration. To try the ford, guarded as it 
 was, were idle ; and to take the bridge, was to select as awkward a 
 leap as ever proved the proverbial courage of a Roscommon rider. The 
 latter only afforded any chance of escape ; for I should inevitably be 
 knocked upon the head at the ford, while floundering tlu'ough the 
 river. Accordingly, I nerved myseF for the effort — took my mare in 
 hand ; — she was the sweetest fencer that ever carried an Irish gentle- 
 man ! — the spur was answered by a rush at speed, — the bridge cleared 
 at stroke — and we landed in sporting style, a full length beyond the 
 chasm. 
 
 So far " the work went bravely on." Although vigorously attacked 
 by several assailants, blows from sticks and stones failed in unhorsing 
 me, and I nearly succeeded in running the gauntlet safely. Two of 
 these brigands were stiU to be passed, and I charged them at a slash- 
 ing gallop. Tliey retreated to either side, and avoided the thi'eatened 
 collision ; but as I came thundering past, a rope dexterously tlu-owu 
 over the horse's head, caught me across the chest, and threw me from 
 the saddle on the road with stunning violence. Before I could recover, 
 I was seized, tied hand and foot, a sack thrown over me, lifted on a 
 horse, and an intimation given, that on the slightest effort at outcry or 
 escape, I should be consigned to the deep, sa?is ceremonie. The 
 better portion of valour is discretion — and I determined to keep 
 quiet — for however loose in keeping ordinary pledges these excellent 
 persons might be, when a drowning match was in the ease, I felt 
 assured that they would redeem their promise to tlie letter. 
 
HECTOR HALLORAX. 33 
 
 CHAPTER Y 
 
 I AM MISTAKEN FOR A GAUGER IN IRELAND, A GREAT MISTAKE. 
 
 " It was a •wild and strange retreat 
 As ere ■was trod by outlaws' feet." — Scott. 
 
 As I had no ambition to make a Turkish exit, and cause a vacancy 
 in the Twenty-first Fusileers, to use a bull, " even before it was filled," 
 I submitted Avith Clu'istian fortitude, and held my peace accordingly. 
 Unresisted, the captors bore me across a shingly beach ; for I heai-d 
 the loose stones rattle as theii' hurried steps displaced them. In a few 
 minutes they reached a boat, and bundled me in with scanty ceremony, 
 as " honest Jack" was ejected into Datchet Mead. Directly, several 
 men jumped across the thwarts — the keel grated on the gravel — the 
 oars fell rapidly on the water — and away we went. Heaven knew 
 whither ! 
 
 On leaving the beach, my captors appeared to consider a longer 
 silence unnecessary; for they laughed and jested with each other, 
 although what seemed marvellous good fun to them, was death to me. 
 
 " Good night, Tom," — said a pleasant gentleman from the shore, — 
 " God ble?5 the venture ! sure it's the first ye carried of the kind !" 
 
 " Don't," observed a second, " make mistakes ; men are not malt ; 
 and be sure ye don't give the contents of yonder sack a steeping." 
 
 " I have done worse however, before now," returned a rough voice 
 beside me, " and on my poor conscience, I think a few stones in the 
 bottom of the bag would make all right, and save both time and 
 -trouble." 
 
 Supposing it no harm to share a conversation in which I was so 
 essentially concerned, I muttered an indistinct dissent. 
 
 "What's that he's mumbling about?" inquired a person in the 
 boat's bow. 
 
 " And what's that to you ? " was politely responded by my next 
 neighbour, as he applied knuckles, hard as ebony, to my ribs, I pre- 
 sume to enforce his admonition. " Badda-hurst* or I'll slip you 
 across the gunnel before you have time to bless yourself. PiiU, wiU 
 ye? Hui-ry to the island; for before this time I should have been 
 half way to Carrick Beg, instead of fenying blackguard gangers to 
 Innisteagles." 
 
 Ferrying blackguard gaugers ! Wliat did the fellow mean ? It was 
 a singidar observation, and I ventured to remark it. 
 
 "Wliat — muttering again!" replied the voice. ''Can you swim, 
 friend?" 
 
 I managed to answer, that " I had never tried it, tied neck and 
 heels together." 
 
 * Ilold your tongue. 
 
S4 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 ** Then by ," rejoined my agreeable companion, with a secoud 
 
 application of his fist, " if you open your Hps before we part company, 
 over you go ! " 
 
 There was no mistaking him. "We were on a deep lake, and I had a 
 determined gentleman to deal with ; so I resolved accordingly to remain 
 still as a mouse, and preserve a dignified sUencc. 
 
 I suspect that my decision was a wise one. From broken observa- 
 tions which I overheard, I soon found that the voyage was about to 
 terminate. I felt in mortal tribulation. Suspense, however, was quickly 
 ended. The keel grated on the sand — strange voices welcomed my guard 
 of honour, and told that my island was not, " like Crusoe's," uninhabited. 
 The sack being lifted out and laid upon the sward, a parting glass was 
 emptied to my better health amidst uproarious peals of merriment. 
 Presently, the parties bade each other good night ; and those who had 
 brought me re-embarked, rowed merrily away, and left me in a plea- 
 sant uncertainty on a very important point, and that was whether I 
 should be sunk or smothered. 
 
 And yet, from the jocular demeanour of the islanders and the im- 
 mediate departure of my abductors, I felt half assm-ed that no truculent 
 design upon my Ufe was meditated after all. This was consolatory, cer- 
 tainly; although an interrupted journey, — imprisonment in a sack, — 
 a lost mare, and a despoded portmanteau, — all these were bad enough. 
 Short space for sombre communings was allowed. Two pair of lusty 
 arms lifted me from the ground, bore me through a narrow and 
 difficult pass, placed me on my legs, and untied the bag, w^hen down 
 dropped the canvass, — and when I could see distinctly, a strange scene 
 presented itself. 
 
 I had felt a glow of increasing heat, and could perceive a stream of 
 light strengthen gradually as we penetrated the thick brush-wood. At 
 first, dazzled by the blaze, objects were more like a confused vision 
 than reality ; but presently my eyes became accustomed to the glare, 
 and I found myself surrounded by several huge fires, at which 
 nearly a score of men were busily engaged in illicit distillation. 
 In my mountain walks, I had frequently discovered in some secluded 
 valley a smuggler engaged in this lawless vocation ; but the hovel and 
 apparatus were so slightly constructed and so easily removed, that at 
 the first intimation of danger the still was carried off, the fire extin- 
 guished, the sheeling torn down, and nothing left but a heap of sods 
 and rubbish to console the ganger on his arrival, by proving that his 
 information had been most correct, and the distillers far too watchful. 
 But here, every thing was constructed on a permanent and extensive 
 scale, which evinced a perfect feeling of security, or the determination, 
 at all risks, of continuing this lawless and demoralizing trade. On 
 furnaces of solid masonry three large stills were working, — numerous 
 wooden vessels were filled with potale, — and sacks of mdt and barley, 
 kegs containing spirits, and an abundant supply of peat-fuel, every- 
 where met the eye. Contiguous to the fires, sundry hovels were 
 erected ; the walls of turf, and roofs of heather — designed, it would 
 appear, for the accommodation of a number of swine and their pro- 
 prietors ; and both, in point of comfort, seemed to be on a precise 
 
HECTOR, OHALLORAN. 35 
 
 equality. The brute and the biped were indeed happily associated ; 
 for the ragged clothes, haggard looks, bleared eyes, and that half- 
 di'unken stupidity, which an endless tasting of ardent spirits always 
 produces, showed, as they flitted back and forward in the red and 
 liu-id atmosphere, a group of beings that might be safely classed as low 
 even in the lowest gi'ade of civilized society. 
 
 My supporters left me, and retired to a cabin apai't from the other 
 hovels ; while I underwent a careless examination by some swart 
 figures, who occasionally passed me bearing turf to the furnaces. 
 Relieved from a most annoying species of restraint, I felt little appre- 
 hension for the future, although the cause for which I had been kid- 
 napped remained as much a mystery as ever. In a few minutes, a 
 man tapped me on the shoulder, and bade me " follow and fear nothing." 
 I obeyed. He led me to the retired hut whither my quondam frienids 
 had gone before ; and there I found them quite at their ease, re- 
 freshing themselves most liberally after their successful exertions in 
 my arrest and deportation. 
 
 It was a rude, but not uncomfortable hovel ; cribs and sleeping- 
 places occujiying one end, and a fire of charred turf blazing in the 
 other. In the centre stood a rough bench, on which were spread 
 plates of the coarsest delft, an eai'then greybeard containing undiluted 
 whisky, a j ug of water, and a couple of horn drinking cujis ; while a 
 tallow candle, stuck in an ii'on trivet, lighted this uninviting board. 
 
 Other objects, and of a very diflerent description, met the eye. In 
 a remote corner of the cabin a score of rusted firelocks were loosely 
 piled ; and, on the couples of the rafters, sundry fishing-rods and 
 gaffs, a di-aft-net, and an eel-spear, were deposited. All indicated 
 a lawless community and wild existence ; while a forbidding-looking 
 hag, broiUng steaks upon the coals, — which operation a rough and 
 brindled lurcher was contemplating with fixed attention, — completed a 
 strange, but interesting pictui'e of savage life. 
 
 " Ai-e you hungiy ?" inquired one of my abductors, with tolerable 
 civiUty. 
 
 " Not particularly," I replied ; " confinement in a sack does not 
 generally improve the appetite." 
 
 " Were you hurt by the fall?" 
 
 " Not much ; although I fancy it would have been to you a matter 
 of small consideration whether I broke my neck or scratched my 
 finger." 
 
 " Why, then," responded the second rufiian ; " upon my soul, I 
 should have regretted it ; for, to give the devil his due, you took the 
 brook and bridge in sporting style. She's a sweet mare, that. There 
 was a day I could have ridden her to fortune. I began life, sir, a 
 wliipper to Lord Longford." 
 
 " Then, friend, I must in candour teU you, that you have not 
 changed for the better." 
 
 " I fear I have not" — and the fellow sighed heavily. 
 
 " But, may I inquire, wherefore I am deprived of liberty, after 
 having been waylaid, robbed, and nearly murdered?" 
 
 The whipper shook his head, while his companion rougldy desired 
 
 D 2* 
 
36 THE rORTUNES OF 
 
 nic to ask no impertinent questions ; then, pointing to the table, on 
 which the hag had phiced a quantity of broiled mutton — apparently 
 sufficient for a dozen persons instead of three — he added, in a more 
 encouraging tone, " Take a seat, neighbour ; there are few in our trade 
 would treat a ganger so civilly." 
 
 " What do you mean?" I exclaimed. " FcUovv', I am no gavger." 
 
 " And pray what do you call yourself?" he added, with a smile. 
 
 " An officer." 
 
 " Well, it's all the same — a gauger and a revenue officer are bro- 
 thers' children." 
 
 " I am not in the revenue, but the army — I am a lieutenant in the 
 Twenty-first Fusileers." 
 
 " The devil you are ! " ejaculated the v.diipper, with marked surprise. 
 " Pray, sir, are you not Mr. Parker ?" 
 
 " No, my name is O'Halloi-an." 
 
 " Of what family?" said the other ruffian. 
 
 " The f\unily of Kilcullen." 
 
 " Hell and furies ! " exclaimed both together. " Wliat is the meaning 
 of all this ? I fancy we are in the centre of a hobble. Are you, sir, 
 son of Colonel O'HaUoran?" 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " How many arms has he?" asked the keeper, sharply. 
 
 " But one — the left he lost in Holland." 
 
 " "Wliere wei'e you going to ? " 
 
 " Dublin." 
 
 " Your business there?" 
 
 " To join my regiment." 
 
 " And why take the mountain road?" 
 
 " Simply, because it was the shortest." 
 
 The quondam whipper gave a long and significant whistle ; while 
 his companion started up and left the hut abruptly, although the 
 Leonora of the smugglers' hovel called loudly after him, that " the 
 steaks were cooling." 
 
 He was but a brief space absent ; and returned accompanied by an 
 old grey-headed, blear-eyed, and besotted wretch, v,-ho instantly com- 
 menced a rigid scrutiny of my features. From the first moment, he 
 expressed doubt and disappointment. 
 
 " Wliat the devil !" said the ruffian who had brought him to examine 
 me — " what are you shaking your head at, old boy ?" 
 
 " Nothing ; but you have bagged the wrong fox," replied the 
 stranger. " A nice job you have made of it, Murty Doolan !" 
 
 " Why, is'nt that Parker the gauger ? " 
 
 " Pai'ker, the devil !" rejoined the old man. "It's as much Parker 
 as it is my grandmother. Ye blind beggar, this chap has a straight 
 eye, and Parker could squint tlirough a bugle liorn. He ! he ! he !" 
 and he chuckled at his own wit ; " wait till somebody heai'S it. AJi, 
 this comes of not taking my advice — tliis comes of employing 
 strangers." 
 
 " Well," said the whipper, " there's no help for spilt milk. "WTiat's 
 to be done, Gaffer ? Can't we grab the right one yet ? " 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAX. 37 
 
 ' Aj, like enough, after Sullivan is hanged ; for nothing can save 
 him now. What will ye do with this lad ?" and he nodded carelessly 
 
 at me. " Serve him, I suppose, as ye did " He paused and 
 
 laughed, " He ! he ! he !" 
 
 " D — n ye, you ould dotmg scoundrel — how dare ye mention that 
 business ?" 
 
 " Phew — how hot ye are, Murty ? "Well, I must hurry back, or 
 Phaddeein, the fool, AviU run the still too close, and spoU the whisky 
 with the faints, as he did the last brewing. A nice job ! That's what 
 I call taking the wrong sow by the ear. He ! he ! he I" and away tlie 
 old man toddled to attend to his favourite employment. 
 
 " This is a cursed mistake," remarked the ruffian companion of the 
 whipper ; " and when the master hears it, all of us will come to trouble. 
 Come, my friend, let's have some supper. Your seizure will ca,use 
 more vexation than your neck is worth, — sit down ;" and turning up a 
 keg, he placed himself upon it, and attacked the broiled meat manfully. 
 The whipper, following his example, settled liimself upon an inverted 
 cleeve,* pointing out a stool, the seat of honour, for my especial use. 
 Undecided, whether to accept their hospitality and sup in villanous 
 company for once, or hold myself aloof and eschew all fellowship 
 with such scoundrels, I wearied the politeness of the whipper, who, 
 unable to resist temptation longer, assailed the steaks with vigour 
 — ^when a voice from without caused my companions to spring from 
 their seats as if the food were poisoned. Next moment, a strange 
 personage whom I had not seen before, strode in, fixed an earnest 
 and suspicious glance on me — then, turning to my captors, exclaimed 
 in a voice of thunder, 
 
 " Villains ! AVho is this stranger ?" 
 
 " The gauger, Parker," both muttered in a tremulous tone. 
 
 " Ah, you precious scoundrels I Off with you ! Take that woman 
 away 1" — and waving his hand, my guard of honour vanished at his 
 bidding, attended by the alarmed cook, and leaving the unknown and 
 myself tete-d-tete together. 
 
 Spurning the basket into the corner, which the whipper had respect- 
 fully abdicated on his entrance, the unknown walked to the fire with 
 an air that bespoke authority, and which seemed to say, " This island's 
 mine." To form any opinion of his face or figure was impossible ; a 
 loose-made frieze wrapping-coat concealed the one, while a high collar 
 and slouched hat masked the other efl'ectually. I could observe, how- 
 ever, that in height he was above the middle size, and that his eyes 
 were dark and penetrating. Promptly he commenced a conversation ; 
 and his address was haughty, curt, and unceremonious. 
 
 " Pray, sir, who are you .'" 
 
 '• A stranger, brought here against his will ; and wherefore — you, 
 sir, can best teU." 
 
 " Pray," continued the unknown, " inform me under what circum- 
 stances you have been arrested ?" 
 
 " And do vou require any information on that subject ?" 
 
 "■■ The Irish name for a turf-basket. 
 
38 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " If I did not, I need not liave asked you to detail them. Be quick, 
 sir ; it will save me time, and probably do you some service." 
 
 I simply narrated the recent occurrences, from my meeting with the 
 strangers at the lonely inn, until I had been enlarged upon the island. 
 At different parts of my detail the muflled stranger exhibited symp- 
 toms of displeasure, and once or twice I could hear his teeth grind, as 
 if Jie struggled to suppress a burst of passion. 
 
 " "Well, sir," said he, as I ended the narrative of my captivity, 
 •' you are a young soldier, it would appear ; and this is an exceUent 
 earnest of the troublesome profession you have chosen. But, jesting 
 apart, you have received much iU-usage, and been stupidly and un- 
 necessarily depi'ived of liberty and effects. Both shall be restored ; 
 and all the satisfaction which circumstances will admit of, shall be 
 offered in atonement for an unintentional aggression. 
 
 He drew a whistle from his bosom ; and its shrill summons was 
 promptly answered by a smai't, active lad, dressed in a sailor's jacket 
 and trowsers. 
 
 " Man the boat, and give the signal." The sailor disappeai'ed, and 
 the unknown again addressed himself to me. 
 
 " Will you accompany me, and trust for your night's entertain- 
 ment to my good offices — or, would you rather remain and share that 
 inviting-looking supper which by my visit, I fear, has not been much 
 improved ? " 
 
 I smiled, and assured him I had not the least ambition to cultivate a 
 farther intimacy with those worthy gentlemen who had already taken 
 too much trouble on my account. 
 
 " Come along, then — the boat is ready," he said, as a piercing whistle 
 was heard from the shore. " FoUow me, closely ; the path, though 
 short, is difficult even in daylight to a stranger." 
 
 Entering the copse and pusliing through thick underwood, we 
 reached a sandy beach, where a gig, with four rowers seated on the 
 thwarts, was waiting. I was ceremoniously handed in and accommo- 
 dated with a boat cloak ; while the unknown took the yoke-ropes of 
 the rudder, and desired the men to " give way." Tlie crew " flung 
 from their oars the spray," and broke the water with a regular stroke, 
 which showed them to be practised pullers. Away we shot across the 
 lake, — and, to my infinite satisfaction, left " the lonely isle," which, even 
 imder an assurance that it possessed another Cal}q>so, I should not have 
 been tempted to revisit. 
 
 The night was dark and still, but through the haze the outline of 
 the shore was seen ahead. I looked towards the island we Avere leav- 
 ing ; but, excepting a feeble glow of red still visible upon the dusky 
 sky, there was nothing to betray its secret, or intimate that this soli- 
 tary place had been chosen for " lawless intent." 
 
 We neared the shore, and entered a narrow inlet that penetrated, as 
 it seemed, by an opening in the hUl side, into a wood of full-grown 
 forest timber. Gradually the passage became more confined, until the 
 oars had scarcely space to puU between the banks, while branches of 
 oak and beech uniting above our heads, gave an additional darkness to 
 the evening. In a few moments we reached its termination, — a small 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 39 
 
 natural basin with a jetty of rough masonry. The steersman ran the 
 boat alongside, landed on the wharf, and desired me to follow. I 
 willingly obeyed, and the unknown led the way in silence, until we 
 were beyond 'the hearing of the boatmen, when, suddenly stopping, he 
 thus addi-essed me : 
 
 '• I am not a resident here — this country is not my own, but although 
 I cannot offer you hospitahty myself, I shall yet manage to obtain it. 
 Scarcely a gun-shot distance from this place there stands a sohtary 
 mansion-house, embosomed in this oak wood. That road will conduct 
 you to it. Go, knock at the door, and ask for INIr. Hartley. TeU him 
 simply that you are a stranger, — that you need food and lodging, — and, 
 if I be not deceived, you will have little occasion to urge the request a 
 second time. Of what has occurred, say Uttle ; of what may occur, 
 say less. I shall have your mare attended to, and your property re- 
 covered and restored ; ay, were its value ten times greater.^ "We may 
 meet under more agreeable circumstances than we did this evening. 
 Farewell. Stay — one word more. You will probably be introduced 
 to a lady at Mi-. Hartley's, some two or three years younger than your- 
 self. She is an only daughter, educated in retirement, unacquainted 
 with the world, and her existence, beyond the inmates of yonder 
 mansion, actually unknown. Gentlemen of the sword, deal, I am 
 told, extensively in gallantry. If this be so, reserve yours ;^ for 
 Mr. Hai-tley, as I have heard, wishes that his daughter shall continue 
 ' of worldly things in happy ignorance ;' and any pointed attention 
 on your part to his ward, would prove any thing but acceptable. You 
 understand me ?" 
 
 " Indeed I do ; and believe me, my good Mentor, that your friend's 
 fair daughter has little to fear from one who has had death in expec- 
 tancy for two hours." 
 
 " So much the better," said the stranger. " Proceed ; and you have 
 but to teU your wants at the house, and have them attended to. You 
 will however require a guide, for probably l^Ir. Haitley's dogs might 
 annoy you." 
 
 He whistled ; and the same boatman again obeyed the signal. To 
 hun he gave orders to attend me ; bade me good night ; and tiu-ned into 
 an opening in the copse, leaving me with my guide, and with the plea- 
 sant necessity of presenting myself to IVIr. Hartley, — an unexpected, 
 an unbidden, and, not improbably, an unwelcome guest. 
 
40 THE ^ORTU^■ES OF 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER. 
 
 Mirandi. — " Be of comfort ; 
 5Iy father's of a better nature, sir. 
 Than he appears by speech." — The Tempest. 
 
 As we proceeded, I endeavoured to lead my companion into conver- 
 sation, and glean from him some information touching the place and the 
 personage we were about to honoiu' with a midnight visit. At first, 
 Andy Beg* — for so the other boatmen named him — affected ignorance of 
 Mr. Hartley's general history ; and said that all he knew " for certain" 
 was, that he had been a great traveller, and bought, a few years ago, a 
 large mountain property, whose extent and revenues bore most ridi- 
 culous proportions ; — the one exceeding some square miles, the other 
 not amounting in value to the rental of an English farm. He added, 
 that •' he had plenty of money, few acquaintances, lived entirely to 
 liimself, kept a very good house, and kept every body out of it." Jw 
 short, the total of my intelligence was small and not encouraging. 
 jNIi'. Hartley being wealthy and inhospitable, having — 
 
 " One fair daughter, and no more. 
 The which he loved passing -weir' — 
 
 the reception of a stranger like myself, making an unceremonious call 
 after sunset, seemed indeed rather a questionable matter. But it was 
 necessary to make an attempt to gain admission ; for, assuredly, any 
 thing was better than to be cooped up on that infernal island. 
 
 As we issued from the wooded avenue, the moon had risen above 
 the trees, and showed us a solitary building standing in the centre of 
 an open glade, and surrounded by a rustic paling. A terrier promptly 
 gave the alarm, and dogs of divers sizes and descriptions joined in the 
 challenge. But Andy appeared to be an old acquaintance ; they 
 ceased barking when his voice was recognised, and permitted us to 
 pass through a wicket in the enclosure, and enter a gravelled walk 
 that approached the dreaded mansion. 
 
 " Now, sir, you require me no longer ; and I have pai'ticular busi- 
 ness to transact before morning. Knock and fear nothing. The dogs 
 will not annoy you." So saying, Andy passed through the wicket, 
 and left me to myself. 
 
 I stood for a miniate to gain time for recollection, and examine the 
 appearance of the building. There was nothing remarkable in the ex- 
 terior, and all within the house appeared dark and silent ; at least, the 
 
 * Anglice, Little Andy. 
 
HECTOR o'lIALLORAN. 41 
 
 fatticed windows were so jealously blinded, tliat it was impossible to 
 discover aught of the interior. I took courage — advanced to the door, 
 and tapped modestly like one rather dubious of admission. Again, I 
 repeated the knock, and a slight bustle within told that the summons 
 was heard. Presently a chain was removed, bolts were withdrawn, 
 and an old man dressed in plain blue livery stood in the doorway, and 
 civilly inquired my business. My tale was briefly told. The servant 
 bowed, and left me in the liaU, while he went to apprize his master 
 that a late visitor had arrived. Returning directly, he requested me 
 to follow him — and leading the way down a long passage, conducted me 
 to a well-lighted chamber, and announced that jNIi-. Hai-tley woidd wait 
 upon me immediately. 
 
 Here I was, in military parlance, safe within the body of the place, 
 and all the approaches carried without opposition. So far the work 
 went bravely on ; and, like a prudent soldier, I occupied the interval, 
 of expectation in examining the interior, to enable me if possible to 
 form some idea of the quality of the inmates. 
 
 The room, though small, exhibited good taste and considerable 
 elegance. The furniture and hangings were designed with great 
 simplicity, but formed evidently of costly materials. A harp and 
 guitar, numerous music-books, and several cases filled with well-bound 
 volumes, bespoke the refinement of the owner. But the pictures were 
 still more striking; they were generally oil paintings, and framed 
 magnificently ; ami with these the walls were completely covered from 
 the ceiling to the very base. 
 
 The mantel-piece was still more remarkable. It was crowded with 
 what are termed articles of verUi, being curious carvings in ivory and 
 porcelain, of great value. There were also some oriental toys in silver 
 filagree, shell snuff-boxes of unequalled beauty, and others of massive 
 gold. But what fixed my attention at once, vras a cabinet picture of 
 smaU size, that rested on the centre of the slab — and which, even to an 
 vmpractised eye, appeared in its style and execution a chef-cVceucre. 
 
 The painting represented a young man, dressed in the fanciful 
 costume of an Eastern rover, holding a midnight interview with a 
 beautifid girl, who wore the habit of a rclifjieuse. Moonlight, a sea- 
 shore, a monastic building half-hidden by trees of tropic growth, with 
 a vessel in the distance, formed the scene. One arm of the corsair 
 clasped the nun ; while the other pointed to the ship, whose canvas, 
 hanging loosely, indicated a readiness for sailing — and the rover's 
 action seemed as if he was " whispering her fears away," and urging 
 the novice to accompany him. The character of both figures was 
 admirably marked. In the rover's handsome features there was much 
 to admire, and more to fear. The expression was that of high courage, 
 mingled with a haughty recklessness, that might either be caused by 
 personal indiflference to danger or a disregard of suflfering in others. 
 But in the beautiful relifjieiise there was a confiding love so gentle, so 
 fixed, so unsuspectipg, that one dwelt with pleasure on a fiice, where 
 every best property of woman seemed combined. 
 
 Tlie dresses of the twain were even more dissimilar than the cha- 
 racter of the features. His costume was a tight jacket and expansive 
 
42 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 trowsers, belted with an Indian sash, which, while if displayed the 
 symmetry of a faultless figure, permitted the wearer to put forth his 
 strength with graceful freedom. Had his wild profession been doubt- 
 ful, the Albanian cap, ornamented pistols, sabre and poniard, would 
 have betrayed his calling. His beautiful companion wore the dress of 
 the Ursulines ; the back-turned hood displayed the sweetest face ima- 
 ginable, while the hand that rested on the rover's arm, as if to stay his 
 departm-e, might have formed a study for Canova. 
 
 The picture fascinated me ; all was forgotten while I gazed upon 
 it. I looked again. Despite the darkening influence of sun and 
 storm, a thick moustache, and foreign costume, the corsair's aspect 
 was decidedly British. It was a fair skin embrowned by climate, 
 with which a wild and martial carriage and hair of raven blackness 
 accorded well. 
 
 Wrapped in silent admiration — now gazing on " the bold brigand" — 
 now enraptured with the sweet gentleness of the confiding girl, who 
 seemed ready to abandon " home and heaven" for " her wild love," I 
 did not hear the door open until the host was almost standing at my 
 side. Addressing rne in a voice of peculiar sweetness, he bade me a 
 warm welcome, apologized for not receiving me in the hall ; and then 
 telling me that supper was in readiness, he led me with excellent tact 
 into a general conversation. 
 
 We tallied on indifferent subjects for a few minutes, whUe gradually 
 my self-possession returned. Although described by the unknown as 
 stern and suspicious, and by Andy as misanthropic and unamiable, 
 my host seemed kind and hospitable to a marvel. Just then the door 
 opened again, a girl of remarkable beauty glided in, and Mr. Hartley 
 led her forward. " This, sir," said he, " is my daughter ; and this 
 gentleman, Isidora, is our guest." We both cast down our eyes ; 
 she in maiden timidity colouring to the very brow, and I— I shame to 
 own it — blushing like a country orator addi-essing " the unwashed" for 
 the first time. I muttered a confused apology for an intrusion at that 
 late hour, said something about bad roads, a lame horse, and Heaven 
 knows what beside, to which she gave a gentle acceptation. I raised 
 my eyes. By heaven ! there stood the corsair's mistress ! ay, there in 
 youthful loveliness — and the host, — all his bland expression gone, 
 as, steadily regarding us, he looked with scornful indifference beneath 
 his coal-black brows (but that his years doubled the corsair's in 
 the painting,) — his haughty curl of lip and eyebrow would have half 
 persuaded me that he had himself been a rover of the sea. 
 
 At this moment, and luckily for me (for I was " regularly bothered,") 
 the blue-coated servitor announced supper. I presented my arm to 
 Miss Hartley, and through a side door we entered the eating room. 
 By a singular self-command, the host's features had regained their pre- 
 vious expression of urbanity ; his manner was courteous, his welcome 
 encouraging, and he seemed the very opposite of Andy Beg's descrip- 
 tion, when he called him repulsive and inhospitable. 
 
 Nothing could surpass the neatness of the apartment. In all its 
 arrangements simijlicity had been regarded ; yet still there was an 
 evidence of luxury and wealth in the quantity and massive fashion of 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 43 
 
 the plate, which seemed better suited to the mansion of a noble than the 
 retreat of a recluse. 
 
 Never did intruder time liis visit more opportunely, if the excellence 
 of a supper were the proof. The meal passed over agreeably, though 
 in point of performance the actors diifered. Miss Hartley ate little, 
 her father turned out an indifferent trencher-man ; but, faith, I made 
 up for this double deficiency, as the skeleton that left the table of what 
 came there, a goodly wild-duck, proved. No wonder ; since I dined at 
 the lonely inn, if varied exercise could produce a healthy appetite, 
 mine should have been in top condition. But hunger has its limit, — 
 mine was at last appeased; supper removed, wine and fruit were placed 
 upon the table, and old blue-coat disappeai'ed, leaving me perfectly 
 satisfied with my quarters, and much more so with my company. 
 
 The host having filled his glass, pushed the decanters across the 
 table. 
 
 " Come, sir, drink ; you will own that Port wine sound, and this 
 Madeira has circumnavigated the world ; but I recommend the Bur- 
 gundy. Probably, as it seems the custom of the country, you are not 
 a wine-drinker after supper, should you therefore prefer them, you 
 will find cognac and hoUands on the bufl:et." 
 
 Egad, the more I saw of it, the more I admired the establishment. 
 Burgundy and Madeira that had circumnavigated the world — these 
 formed very gentlemanly tipple to sport under a racketty old roof, to 
 a self-invited visitor, who had dropped in, like a priest collecting corn, 
 with a " God save all here." Nor did I neglect the invitation. The 
 bottle jsassed freely, previous restraint wore away, and some allusion 
 of Mr. Plartley's to a militaiy life, led me by degrees into a private 
 history of my own, until 
 
 " I ran it through, even from my boyish days 
 To the very moment when he bade me tell it." 
 
 I afterwards recollected that some of Mr. Hartley's questions could 
 only have been asked by a person to whom the earlier history of my 
 parents was intimately known, but I did not notice it at the moment. 
 
 Charmed at the urbanity of my host, and flattered that my young 
 Desdemona expressed an interest in my fortunes, and 
 
 " Gave me for my pains a world o{ smiles," 
 
 I became momentarily more intimate and at ease ; deciding that the 
 unknown and his boatman, Andy Beg, were little better than 
 libellers, when they insinuated aught against the suavity of temper and 
 sociability of my excellent host. 
 
 Isidora had risen to leave the room, and something in her look or 
 attitude recalled the fascinating picture of the corsair's mistress to my 
 memory. 
 
 " How like I" I muttered, loud enough to awake the attention of her 
 father. " I would be sworn that picture on the mantel-piece of the 
 drawing-room was painted for this young lady, — ay, and bating some 
 twenty years, the gallant rover looks your very image, sir." 
 
44 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Never was a more unlucky guess liazarded by a blundering Irish- 
 man ! Had lightning struck the building, or a grenade dropped 
 hissing through the ceiling, the effect could not have caused so fierce 
 an explosion as that which followed this infelicitous discovery. In a 
 moment a lurid glare flashed underneath the host's contracted brows ; 
 while Isidora, pale as marble, leaned against the buffet for support. 
 Persuaded that I had committed some villanous impertinence, I sprang 
 forward to assist her ; but, with extraordinary strength, her father 
 pushed me like a child aside, led his daughter from the room, closed 
 the door, and left me in undisturbed possession, to commune with my 
 own thoughts, and congratulate myself on the brilliant effect that my 
 first essay as a connoisseur in painting had pi'oduced. 
 
 After a short, but to me most painful, interval of suspense, Mr. Hartley 
 returned. His rage had subsided ; every trace of its first violence had 
 disappeared ; but his features wore an expression of stern rebuke, 
 that made me far more uncomfortable than if personal violence were 
 threatened for my offending. He leaned his back against the side- 
 board, and after regarding me for a minute with a fixed look, thus 
 commenced : — 
 
 " Young man, you have wantonly annoyed those who were anxious 
 to show you kindness ; and, by a most unhappy and impertinent allu- 
 sion to what concerned you nothing, you have in me roused feelings, 
 which I wish suppressed for ever, and recalled to my daughter's memory 
 an event that can only bring with it painful recollections." 
 
 I listened patiently thus far ; but, unable to restrain my feelings, 
 interrupted the expostulation, while my look and manner evinced that 
 my contrition was sincere. 
 
 " By Heaven, Mr. Hartley, my offence was wholly unintentional ! 
 While waiting for you in the drawing-room, by mere accident I 
 noticed this unlucky picture. Had I fancied that a secret connexion 
 existed between that painting and any event of your past life, I should 
 have scorned to cast an eye upon it, as much as I would to pry into 
 yonder open letter that lies upon the mantel-piece. I only saw in it, 
 what I considered a beautiful creation of the fancy ; some imaginary 
 scene — " 
 
 Suddenly my host interrupted me. — '• Creation of the fancy ! No, no, 
 boy ; all tad — sad reality ! Oh, Heaven, that the scene were indeed 
 imaginary !" — and, apparently overcome Avith some fearful recollection, 
 he turned his f\ice towards the fire, and I could observe a convulsive 
 shudder creep over him as he writhed in silent agony. I was dreadfully 
 mortified at the misery which my folly had occasioned, and determined 
 at once to quit a house in which my visit had proved so mischievous. 
 I went forward, and took Mr. Hartley's hand. 
 
 " Can you pardon a stupid impertinence of mine, which has un- 
 happily recalled afflicting recollections ? When I am gone, excuse my 
 imprudence to your daughter, and assure her how sincerely I repent 
 my folly. And now, farewell, sir, — I feel myself an unwelcome visitor, 
 and will relieve you of my presence." 
 
 I made a movement towards the door ; but my host waved his hand 
 as if to detain me — 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 45 
 
 " Stop," said lie ; " it is nearly midnight, and the first place ■where 
 you could obtain a lodging is ten miles distant." 
 
 " I have walked twenty before now," I replied, " to shoot a dozen 
 snipes." 
 
 " The road is bad and difficidt to find," rejoined Mr. Hartley. 
 
 " I can rouse a peasant on the way side, and he will guide me." 
 
 " It is dangerous, besides," added he ; '• a murder was committed 
 there but lately." 
 
 " No matter," I returned ; " I have little indeed to lose." 
 
 " You put your trust in honest Juvenal," said he, with a faint 
 smile. " ' Cantabit vacuus ' — it is a good adage ; no security better 
 against robbery than an empty pocket. But they may knock you on 
 the head, and discover when too late — that you are not a ganger;" and 
 he gave me a side look, to see what effect the allusion had. 
 
 " Faith, sir," I returned, " I trust that that mistake shall not occur 
 a second time., although to it I owe the pleasure of your acquaintance." 
 
 " La deed ?" said Mr. Hartley, with real or simulated surprise. 
 
 " It is true, sir," I replied. 
 
 " "Well, then, sit down and tell me the adventure. Come, my dear 
 boy," he added, in tones so soft, so kind, that I was amazed at the 
 sudden transition from anger to urbanity ; " all is over and forgotten. 
 I will make your peace with Isidora in the morning, and your penalty 
 shall be — a short lecture and another bottle. You are young — yom* 
 foot has only touched the threshold of the stage of life — at your age 
 one sees only the sun-streak in the sky, but never looks for the cloud- 
 bank that lies behind it. AVhat you to-night intended in idle compli- 
 ment, ex2jloded a hidden mine that all but wrecked oiu- friendship in 
 its very opening. Be advised by one who knows the world, or ought 
 to know it : restrain curiosity in all that concerns another ; and know 
 men well, before you pry into their secrets. At the conclusion of this 
 lecture my host took a flask of Burgundy from the sideboard, extracted 
 the cork, and down we sate tete-a-tete again ; and, at his desire, I 
 narrated my evening encounter with the smugglers. 
 
 " Upon my honour," he observed, as I ended, " a perilous adven- 
 ture ; and, faith, the scoundi-els gave you coarse usage. I know the 
 scene of your flight ; a rough road to gallop over, and the broken 
 bridge, too — did your horse carry you across that ugly chasm ? " 
 
 " Took it in stroke, and never touched it with a toe. But for the 
 villains with the rope, I shoidd have had the race hollow." 
 
 " Ay — these, ' misbegotten knaves,' as Jack Falstaff would call 
 them, they ended the affair effectually. Egad — the rope was an excel- 
 lent contrivance to dismount a cavalier. But you must have had a 
 severe fall ? Are you bruised ? — ai'e you injured ?" 
 
 " Not much, I fancy — although I do feel sore and stiff about the 
 back and shoulders." 
 
 " It must be examined. I shall be leech for the nonce ; and I am 
 not a bad surgeon. Come, let us finish the flask, and then I will show 
 you to a chamber." 
 
 The time-piece on the chimney-piece chimed three quarters, the wine 
 disappeared, I rose to retire ; when my host took up a chamber-lamp 
 
46 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 and led the way. Proceeding along a narrow gallery, we entered 
 an apartment at its extremity. ]VIr. Hartley lighted the candles. 
 " These are your quarters," said he. " Here make yourself at home, 
 and I will return in a few minutes and pronounce upon youi" 
 bruises." 
 
 Nothing could surpass the neatness of my dormitory. The curtains 
 and bed furniture were chintz, witli di-awers, cabinets, and wardrobes, 
 aU of Lidian workmanship. A glorious fire of bog-deal was blazing in 
 the grate, and on the table I remarked a dressing-case, with every 
 thing requisite even for the toilet of a man of fashion — while a 
 morning gown, slippers, and change of linen, were in process of airing 
 for my service. But other objects caught my eye. Over the chimney- 
 piece hung a curious collection of fire-arms ; and beside them, some 
 splendid sabres were suspended. Some were of foreign shape, and 
 richly ornamented with gold and silver mounting ; others, made by 
 English artists, were distinguished from the rest by their exquisite 
 finish and simplicity, while not a few bore semblance of great anti- 
 ■ quity, and seemed retained rather as objects of curiosity than use. 
 
 On his return, Mr. Hartley found me admiring his armoury ; but I 
 neither hazarded a remark nor dared to ask a question. The lesson I 
 had recently received would last me for awhile ; and had a ghost and 
 goule been sitting in the corner, tete-a-tete, I should have scarcely 
 ventured to inquire " What the devil brought them there ? " 
 
 " There ai'e some handsome weapons in that collection ?" said the 
 host. 
 
 " They appear most valuable," I replied. " I am not a judge of 
 
 foreign arms; but I see some English guns of beautiful workmanship." 
 
 Ml-. Hartley passed these lightly by ; but taking down a sabre and 
 
 pistols, he examined them with marked attention. The latter he 
 
 replaced, but retained the sabre in his hand. 
 
 " Is that sword a valuable one ?" My host started. I felt my face 
 flush. Had I again committed mischief ? But Mr. Hartley, on this 
 score, relieved me speedily. 
 
 '* You ask me is this sabre valuable ? It is invaluable. The blade 
 is of the purest Damascene. Observe its beautiful tracery ; and its 
 temper is so exquisite, that, without indenting its own edge to the 
 extent of a pin's point, I could have once shorn that bar of iron in 
 twain," — and he pointed to the grate. A knock was heard at the door. 
 " It is Dominique — Come in." 
 
 As he spoke, a new and very remarkable personage presented himself. 
 He was a negro of uncommon height ; and if his shape could be relied 
 on, of herculean strength. His limbs, though too heavy to be graceful, 
 were finely moulded ; his shoulders square, his breast ample. He 
 wore a light jacket and loose trowsers, and was provided with a china 
 basin, some phials, and a napkin. 
 
 " Now," said Mr. Hartley, " for our operations. Dominique, assist 
 this gentleman, remove his coat, and bare his shoulders." 
 
 The negro obeyed, and I submitted to examination. 
 '' " Upon my word, you have made little ado about what miglit have 
 been a serious injury. Your back and arms are extensively contused. 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 47 
 
 the whole surface is hruisecl, and the skin discoloured. Come, we 
 shiill take a little blood, and then embrocate the parts aflected." 
 
 I felt inclined to demur against submitting to phlebotomy, but mine 
 was no common doctor. The negro bound my arm, produced a lancet, 
 opened a vein with great adroitness, while his master overlooked the 
 operation, until he thought that I had lost a sufficiency of blood. After 
 a copious depletion, Dominique lubricated my back with some oily sub- 
 stance ; and, having ascertained that aU was correctly done, he assisted 
 me to bed ; wdiile his master bade me a friendly good night, quitted 
 the room, and both left me " alone in my glory." 
 
 What a " whirligig world" we live in ! I was but one day fairly 
 flown upon it, and what a medley of adventure had it not produced ! 
 In the morning, starting full of " gay hope," and for the first time 
 master of myself ; in the evening, captive of a gang of ruffians, who, 
 in di-unken barbai'ity, would have consigned me to the bottom of the 
 lake, with less compunction than that with which a school-boy drowns 
 a kitten. At night, inmate of a strange mansion, doubtfidly received, 
 half rejected afterwards, and now domesticated, as if I had been un- 
 doubted heir to every barren hiU in view. All this was passing 
 strange ; and, lost " in wild conjecture," and unable to read riddles, 
 I betook myself quietly to sleep. 
 
 If there be faith in strong exercise, a deep potation, and bruised 
 bones, I ought to have slept soundly, — and so I did ; dreaming 
 nevertheless of nuns and corsairs, smugglers and sacks, wild ducks, 
 burgundy, bloodletting, and Heaven knows what besides, until a 
 gentle touch upon the shoulder dispelled these troublous visions, and 
 showed, by the misty light of a dull October morning, the weU- 
 remembered features of my kind and mysterious host, standing at my 
 bedside. 
 
 " Have you rested well?" said the deep voice of j\Ir. Hartley, in 
 the gracious tones it could occasionally assume. 
 
 " I have slept most soundly ; and find myself so far recovered from 
 bruise and battery, that I could" — 
 
 " Run anew the gauntlet as a ganger, and take the broken bridge, 
 in stroke," added mine host, with a smile. " "Well, we shall not put you 
 to the test to-day ; you must keep quiet ; at least, so says Dominique, 
 your leech. Do you wish to read ? you wiU find books. Would you 
 write ? thei'e are materials in the drawing-room. Would you shoot — - 
 swim — sail ? Here are all facilities. Your mare is in my stable, your 
 cloak-case honestly restored ; and, as the stranger avowed who brought 
 them hither, the steed uninjured and your effects untouched. I have 
 x'eceived important letters, which for a few hours oblige me to leave 
 home. Before supper you may count upon my return." 
 
 I thanked him warmly for the kind manner in which he pressed my 
 further stay, but liinted that the time was Umited within which I must 
 report myself at head-quarters. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said he, " I know you must be in Dublin on the 24th ; 
 but this is only the 20th. I wiU send you off' to-morrow, — sounder in 
 l)ones, and safer in property, than when you honoured me with a visit. 
 'Tis scarcely si?; o'clock. Sleep tiU Dominique appears. Addio ! One 
 
48 IHE FORTUNES OF 
 
 word more, — 'tis cautionary, — we were introduced but yesterday ; 
 to-day makes or mars our friendship !" 
 
 Before I coidd reply, lie glided from tlie chamber, closed the door 
 softly, and left me to sleep or wake, just as I pleased. 
 
 I felt little inclination to court the " di'owsy influence" of my 
 pillow ; for the stranger's parting words, like every thing about 
 him, were a mystery. Accordingly, I rose, threw aside the curtains, 
 and let as much light in as an overcast morning woidd admit tlirough 
 a lattice dimmed with mist and rain. 
 
 It was yet but seven, and some time must elapse before the family 
 would be afoot. Out of doors, all looked cold and comfortless, and I 
 was obliged to betake myself to bed again, and there await patiently 
 the advent of my sable physician. 
 
 Sleep I coidd not ; my brain was in a whirl, as the events of yester- 
 day crossed my mind in fast succession ; all, or any, being sufficiently 
 exciting to stamp the day adventurous to a novice like myself, just 
 started on the world. But one engrossing recollection obliterated aU 
 the rest, and the picture and supper-scene occupied my thoughts 
 exclusively. 
 
 As I pondered on the singular resemblance between the figures iu 
 the painting and those of Isidora and " mine host," my eyes involun- 
 tarily rested on the arms which hung above the mantel-piece. The 
 sabre and pistols rivetted my attention. They were the very iden- 
 tical weapons Avith which the corsair in the picture was accoutred! 
 Hai'tley's eulogy upon the sword, and the boast of his former prowess, 
 confirmed the belief, that though a " worthy Thane" at present, there 
 was a period when his calling was but indifferent, and himself, " if a 
 man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked." Just 
 then I heard a gentle tap, and Dominique made his appearance to 
 ascertain how far I had benefited by liis leech-craft, and if necessary, to 
 assist me at my toilet. 
 
 " Your master, Dominique, went early abroad to-day." 
 
 " Yes, sir. He had business at some short distance from the house, 
 but he will not delay long. How much better your wounds look than 
 could have been expected from their appearance last night !" and the 
 negro embrocated my bruises again. " Pray, <Io you know, sir, any of 
 the persons who assailed you on the road ?" 
 
 " Not I, in faith. From what I can collect, I was mistaken for 
 another." 
 
 " It was a bad blunder for you ; but, all considered, you have escaped 
 Vv'onderfuUy. It was very doubtfid whether you could have left your 
 room this morning ; and Miss Isidora begs to know whether you wiU 
 have breakfast in your chamber, or venture to the parlour." 
 
 " To tlie parlour, certainly." Up I sprang, di-essed rapidly, and 
 following the sable functionary to the end of the corridor ; he pointed 
 to the drawing-room door, bowed, left me, and I entered. 
 
 The room was still untenanted, and, to all appearance, precisely as 
 I had left it the preceding night. Recldess of the confusion it had 
 already caused, I determined to satisfy my curiosity again, and take a 
 second peep at the mysterious picture. From the doorway the massive 
 
HECTOR IIALLORAX. 49 
 
 frame was visible, for mj eyes had turned involuntarily to the place 
 where my thoughts had already wandered. I vralked on and stood 
 before the painting. 'Twas passing strange ; there was the frame, but 
 both lady and corsair had vanished ; and the parting scene of love had 
 changed to one of vengeance. How opposite the subject, too — 
 Blue Beard about to shorten Fatima by the head, for being over 
 curious, like myself, in a strange house and on a first visit. Was this 
 pointed as a hint to me ? I'faith, it looked very like it, but, before I 
 could determine whether the painting was designed to convey this silent 
 lesson, a light step behind announced the presence of Isidora. She 
 had entered from the adjoining room unperceived, and came to tell me 
 that brealifast waited. 
 
 All things considered, the meal passed over with less embarrassment 
 than might have been expected from a tefe a tete between two novices 
 like us, who had parted in the impromising manner we had done the 
 night before. Although timid as one unacquainted with the world will 
 naturally be when she is first addressed by a stranger, Isidora's was 
 the difildence of maiden modesty rather than 7nauvai!i lionte; while 
 I, appertaining to that numerous class intituled " bashful Ii-ishmen," 
 mustered my small stock of assurance, as I whispered to myself old 
 Chapman's Hues — 
 
 " Ah ! crrard sheep's-head, hast thou liv'd thus long, 
 And dar'st not look a -svomau in the face?" 
 
 Certain it is, that, after having duly ascertained that my mare and 
 baggage had passed through the hands of the Philistines uninjured, I 
 returned gallantly to the drawing-room. There I behaved as a soldier 
 of promise should do ; ending by proposing a walk to the fair hostess, 
 which invitation on her part was gracefully accepted. 
 
 The day had improved considerably ; and we strolled arm-in-arm to 
 the brow of a small hill, which, rising boldly above the copse that 
 encircled it, commanded a splendid view of a spacious lake, with wood- 
 lands in the foreground and mountains in the distance. This was a 
 favourite spot, and frequently, as my companion told me, visited by 
 herself and Mr. Hai'tley. We placed ourselves on a rustic bench under 
 the shading of a fine old ehn ; and, while I could not but admire the 
 romantic scenery that everywhere met the eye, I marvelled that one 
 who had mingled in the world, and had ample means to do so — as all 
 about his domicile inferred — should seclude the yoimg beauty beside 
 me in a wilderness, fitted for men only of lawless habits and broken 
 fortunes. 
 
 " Do you not, at times, find this place solitary. Miss Hai-tley ?" I 
 asked, in a careless tone. 
 
 " It is retired, certainly ; but I have been accustomed from my 
 childhood to retirement," she replied. 
 
 " Yes, but one who has been in the world — " 
 
 " Would, no doubt, find tins mansion disagreeable. I have been 
 secluded from infancy." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 " For fifteen years I never set my foot beyond the convent garden." 
 
 E 
 
50 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " TVerc you intended for a religieuse ?" 
 
 " I believe not." 
 
 " Why, tlien, seclude you from the world ?" 
 
 " The cloister is surely the best asylum for those who need pro- 
 tection." 
 
 " You lost your mother when young ?" — 
 
 To judge by its effect on my fair companion, the allusion was ]iarti- 
 cularly unfortunate. The cheek, " but feebly touched with red" just 
 now, flushed, and told that I had committed a fresh indiscretion. By 
 a sudden impulse I seized her hand : — 
 
 " Have 1 again offended ? Alas, Miss Hartley, I am inexcusable ! 
 But, as it was jierfectly unintentional, may I once more entreat for- 
 giveness ?" 
 
 " For what ?" exclaimed the deep voice of my host, as, to our 
 mutual astonishment and dismay, he stepped from the thicket. In 
 confusion, I dropped his daughter's hand. 
 
 " Pray, young sir, what may be the offending which required such 
 earnest supplication to be paixloned ?" 
 
 " An impertinent question," I rejilied. 
 
 " Eepeat it," he continued, as he fixed his eye steadily on mine. 
 
 " I inquired whether Miss Hartley had not been designed to take 
 the veil, that for so long a period of her life she had lived the inmate 
 of a convent." 
 
 " It was a silly and a harmless question," he answered drily. 
 " KnoAV you not that it is customary in catholic countries to entrust the 
 daughters of the noblest families to religious communities for instruc- 
 tion ? Well, Isidora, the pardon may be granted : for it is, possibly, the 
 last offending he shaU perpetrate or you forgive. Come, my girl, dinner 
 has been ordered two hours earlier than usual, to enable Mr. O'HaUoran 
 to proceed this evening on his route. This may sound inhospitable, 
 sir, but it is necessary. Isidora, let us look upon that lake, and these 
 mountains : we look upon them for the last time !" 
 
 I started. What did all this mean ? I looked at IMi-. Hartley, but 
 his face wore the same expression it always did ; and if on the tablet 
 of memory the past and present were fast careering, the volume was 
 sealed to me. Dinner was served : it was a hurried and unsocial meal ; 
 and when the cloth was lifted, Isidora left the room. 
 
 " Drink, sir," said the host — " time flies ; and in half an hour you 
 will be on the road, and I preparing for a longer journey. Those 
 pistols on the table are yours. Fearing lest they had suffered by the 
 night air, I had them discharged and cleaned." He got up, took the 
 weapons, and examined them critically. " From the cypher, I presume 
 them to have been your father's." He sprang the ramrods — " Clean 
 and effective," he said. " In travelling, there are two things I never 
 delegate to another— my horse and my weapons. The first I see 
 attended to before myself ; and the second, I take especial care shall not 
 be found wanting when required. You will find ammunition in that 
 drawer, and I beg you to excuse me for five minutes." 
 
 Wlien he was gone, I reloaded my pistols — filled another glass of 
 wine — wondered what the devil would come next — heai'd the door 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAX. 51 
 
 open — looked round, and saw mine host leading his fair daughter 
 in. 
 
 " Isidora," he said, '• eomcs to bid jou farewell. I overheard you ask 
 pardon for some imaginary offending, and she will confirm it. My 
 love, give the gentleman that ring." 
 
 In deep confusion, the blushing girl pulled a jewel from her finger. 
 
 "No — no, love — a diamond would be ill suited for the hand that in 
 a brief space may be cold upon a battle-field. 'Twould be to gorge with 
 treasure they could not estimate, the human vultui'es which foUow to 
 batten on kindred carrion. No love, that other. It is, Mr. O'llal- 
 loran, the trophy of an early adventure — a simple hoop of gold — pure 
 as it comes from the mine. As a remembrance, rich as if it had issued 
 from Golconda — and as a bauble valueless, and therefore the fitter for 
 a soldier." 
 
 Isidora placed the keepsake on my finger, and with my lips I pressed 
 her trembling hand. Her father gave a signal — and she hastily left 
 the room by one door, as the blue-coated attendant entered by another 
 to say that " my horse was waiting." 
 
 " I will attend you to the gate," said my host ; and we proceeded 
 down the long corridor together. At the entrance I found my mare, 
 full of life and fit for any thing. Blue-coat housed my pistols in the 
 holsters, Mr. Hartley squeezed my hand, and I sprang into the saddle, 
 muttering thanks, which mine host returned with something like a 
 blessing. He turned towards the door — I rode round the angle of 
 the court-yard. Casting my eyes back I took a last look at the house, 
 and from an upper window a white arm waved its parting farewelL 
 Who sent that mute addio ? — who — but Isidora ! 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 I JOIN THE TWENTY-FIRST. 
 
 ** Davy. — Doth the man of war stay all night ? 
 " Shallow. — Yes, Davy — I will use him well." 
 
 Shaksfeabe. 
 
 As I rode from Mr. Hartley's, I could scarcely persuade myself that 
 the transactions of the last two days were aught but a coinage of the 
 brain, and took the liberty of respectfully inquiring of myself whether 
 I were actually compos mentis. As I looked around, I received on 
 this point a mute affirmative. I was sitting in mine own saddle — 
 bestrode the best mare that ever cleared a broken bridge — identified 
 the holsters at my pommel — my cloak-bag was duly secured upon its 
 pad — and, stronger proof, " a gay gold ring" glittered on my finger. 
 
 E 2 
 
52 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 It was a sweet September evening, and for the first mile or two tlie 
 scenery harmonized well with that hoiu' " which poets love." But 
 when the natural wood that encircled Mr. Hartley's domain was left 
 behind, I found before me a large expanse of dull brown moorland, 
 which must be traversed before I could reach the solitary house where I 
 purposed to talie up my quarters for the night. The inn was ten miles 
 distant, and the gentle reader will jilease to hold in recollection, that 
 these miles were Ii-ish miles ; therefore, had I been inclined to senti- 
 mentalize, there was neither time nor place for musing. I gave 
 Miss Malone accordingly permission to step out ; and as the sun made 
 his parting bow from behind a mountain ridge, I pulled up at the 
 Yellow Lion and received an honourable welcome. 
 
 vStanding at the door, Andy Beg appeared as if he had been for some 
 time in waiting. He held a letter in his hand, and had a gun-case under 
 his ai'm. Having grinned what he intended to be a civil recognition, 
 he took my pistols and cloak bag, and led the way into this mountam 
 caravansera. If for me the fatted calf had not been kiUed, stiU pre- 
 parations had been made for sujiper — for a Nora Ci'ina sort of cook, in 
 short petticoats and a gown curiously tucked up, crossed me in the 
 passage with a brace of moor-fowls ready for the brander. Miss 
 Malone was stabled as became her worth — and I duly inducted into 
 a cheerful cliamber, the "great one" of the Yellow Lion, and evidently 
 reserved for honourable guests. Having seated myself before the tu*e, 
 I broke the seal of the packet which Andy Beg had delivered, and 
 found it to be a valedictory epistle from that mysterious personage, 
 !Mr. Hartley. The letter ran thus : — 
 
 " Our acquaintance has commenced under such singular circum- 
 stances that I trace in it the hand of destiny — for chance could not 
 have thus brought us together, when to meet Avas every thing but impos- 
 sible. In me, know one who influences your fortunes — one, who by a 
 breath can confer or withhold what men erroneously consider the pass- 
 port to human happiness — wealth ! For the future, I shall watch 
 your career, and every action of your life shall be under a rigid Sfcr- 
 veillance. Be prudent, and I promise you a goodly independence. 
 Disappoint my hopes, and you never see me more. To suppose that 
 youth will not err occasionally, would be to plead ignorance of what 
 mankind is. But remember, for folly there is pardon — for vice none. 
 May you pass the ordeal unscathed ! 
 
 " No one is secure against the frowns of fortune ; and it may be 
 decreed that you shall not escape. Mark me, boy ! 'W^icn friends fall 
 off, the future is overcast, and all around seems desperate, write freely 
 — ^let nothing be held back — and even in that heavy hour I may step 
 between you and your fate. The address I enclose will always find me. 
 
 " Farewell ; Isidora sends a kind remembrance. 
 
 " Yours, as you conduct yourself, 
 
 " John Hartley." 
 
 "P.S. — You admired a gun of Manton's ; I beg you to accept it. 
 You can safely forward it to Dublin by the stage coach which passes 
 the inn to-morrow morninc;-." 
 
HECTOR HALLORAX. 53 
 
 ■ Another postscript was annexed : it commantled me to keep pro- 
 foundly secret mj recent escapade among the smugglers, as well as my 
 subsequent introduction to this my most mysterious correspondent. To 
 this strange epistle, I returned a dutiful reply ; and having despatched 
 Andy Beg with my letter, I supped — went to sleep — and dreamed till 
 cockcrow of the strange dramatis j^O'soyice who had figured so pro- 
 minently in my late adventures. 
 
 On the fourth evening I reached the metropolis in safety — reported 
 myself next morning to the Colonel — obtained a barrack-room in 
 George's-street — was introduced to my brother officers, and committed 
 duly to be drilled. I mounted " the red-rag " — and satisfied myself by 
 a sly inspection as I passed every hatter's shop, from the eSigj of the 
 great King William even unto Stephen's Green, that the jacket was 
 accurate in its proportions, and conferred immortal honour upon the 
 builder of the same. 
 
 Among some introductory letters, one had been given me by my 
 father, addi-essed to a respectable merchant to whom he annually con- 
 signed his wool. His name was Pryme — he lived on one of the quays, 
 was reputed to be very wealtliy, and was a rigid quaker. When 
 I called at his counting-house I found that he had been absent for a 
 day or two, and was gone to the country on business ; but from his son 
 I received much civility and any information that I required. The 
 young quaker was a little older than I, but in height and general 
 appearance singularly like me. Indeed, we might have passed for twin 
 brothers, had not the cut and colour of our garments announced that 
 no relationship could exist between a flashy flanker and a sober youth, 
 whose conversation and outer man told plainly that he had eschewed 
 the pomps and vanities of this wicked world. According to my father's 
 orders, Mr. Piyme was not only to supply me with good advice, but 
 also to furnish me with money when required — and one fine evening 
 the young quaker, after mess, visited my barrack-room, and then 
 and there replenished a treasury which a military outfit had neai-ly 
 exliausted. 
 
 Of course he was hospitably entertained. The bottle passed freely — 
 some of the younger hands dropped in — the kettle was put in 
 requisition — and it was decreed that whisky punch should complete 
 what port wine had handsomely commenced already. 
 
 At eleven o'clock the party were regularly screwed, the quaker 
 worse than any. We had indulged in divers drunken freaks ; and not 
 the least ridiculous was an interchange of clothes between me and 
 Simon Pure. Our next proceeding was to seek adventure, and sally 
 forth upon the town ; I attired in a snuff-coloured single-breasted 
 coatee and broad-brimmed hat, and brother Samuel in full regimentals 
 and a bearskin chaco. 
 
 Our career was short and brilliant. We managed to get up a row- 
 in Dame-street with a party of college men, Ijent on tlie same ei'rand 
 as ourselves. The watch interfered — we joined our quondam oppo- 
 nents in a treaty, offensive and defensive, to resist this impertinent 
 intervention, and the fight for a short time was respectably maintained. 
 But numbers succeeded. I Avas stretched hors dc condmt ; sundry 
 
54 THE FOIlTU^■ES OF 
 
 belligerents (the quaker incliuled) were captured and carried to tlio 
 Tvatt'h-house, while the remainder, reserving themselves for deeds of 
 Talour on a future day, levanted, and left us to our fate. 
 
 Either owing to the severity of the blow, or from the shock of the 
 fall, after having saluted my mother eai'th I lay perfectly motionless ; 
 wlule, alarmed at this proof of prowess, instead of conveying me to 
 durance vile, the guardians of the night, declaring me dead as Julius 
 CiTesar, carx'ied me into a neighbouring apothecary's, to ascertain 
 whether that disciple of the healing god could minister to mortal 
 wounds, and set defimct gentlemen safe upon their legs again. The 
 doctor having wiped and mounted his spectacles, proceeded to what he 
 believed would turn out a 2}ost mortem examination ; for after a single 
 glance, he started back and exclaimed — 
 
 " ^Miy, ye villans — every sowl of ye will be hanged ! Haven't ye 
 murdered a quaker ? " 
 
 " Not at all," responded the commander of the faithful. " Sure it 
 was the quaker that murdered us." 
 
 " Have done, ye scounckels! He's a man of peace." 
 
 " Pace or war," returned a watchman, "he's the hardest hitter betune 
 this and Bully's acre, and that's a big word. He give me one clip vrid 
 the left hand, and jist look at my eye, af ye plase. By this book," and 
 Charlie reverently held up his lantern, " I think it was the crown of 
 my head that first titched the gravel. It was the clanest knock doAvn 
 I ivir got — and many's the floorer I've had in my time from thim college 
 divUs. Bad luck attind them night and day — the thieves ! " 
 
 " AYho is the gentleman?" inquired the apothecary. 
 
 " Arrah ! sorra one of us knows," was the reply. 
 
 " Seai'ch his pockets," said the leech ; — " some paper will probably 
 tell." 
 
 Tlie quaker's coatee forthwith underwent a judicid investigation, 
 and divers mercantile documents at once established the identity. 
 
 " Why," said the apothecary, " he's son of j\Ir. Prj-me, the rich 
 merchant, a man whom every body respects. By my conscience, I 
 have one comfort for ye. If any thing goes wrong with the boy here, 
 every man Jack of ye is sure of Botany Bay — ay ! and the devU a 
 rap it will cost any of ye for the passage out." 
 
 " Oh I — murder ! murder !" ejaculated smidry voices. 
 
 " "Whish't !" said the doctor, for I gave a twist upon the floor, and 
 muttered—" Fill fair, and be d d to you." 
 
 " Holy Bridget !" ejaculated the chief of the chai'lies — " if ivir I 
 met a quaker of liis kind. He drinks like a fish, and swears like a 
 trooper ! " 
 
 " All ! he 's coming round again," exclaimed the doctor. " See ! — 
 the colour's on his cheek. I tell you what you'll do. Call a chair, 
 cai-ry him home fair and asy ; and, if je can, smuggle him down the 
 area steps, for the ould gentleman woulthi't be overpleased to see him. 
 m drop the lad a line or two in the morning, and make all right for 
 you." 
 
 Instantly a charlie trotted off, and in a few minutes I was safely 
 ensconced in a " leathern conveniency" now extinct, which at that time 
 
HECTOR HALLOFxAX. c5 
 
 performed a double duty in transporting beauty to tlie ball-room, and 
 di-unkai-ds to their cribs. 
 
 I -was promptly conveyed to my destination ; and, by some strange 
 fiitality, a new chief butler that very evening had succeeded the former 
 " pantler" of Mr.Pryme. I was, of course, personally unknown to 
 him ; and having been discreetly slipped down the ai'ea steps, it was 
 explained that " I was rather the worse of liquor, and had been mighty 
 pugnacious into the bai-gain." The butler took me on his back ; 
 and without let or hinckauce, I was cai'ried to the chamber of the 
 absent Samuel — stripped — put to bed, — promised a bowl of whey — 
 and left in undisputed possession of the dormitory of the di-unken 
 quaker. 
 
 Two or thi-ee hours passed ; and how the secret transpired I cannot 
 guess. I was buried in profound sleep, Avhen lights, flashed across my 
 eyes and awtxkened me. Through an opening in the curtains I saw 
 three females beside the bed ; and I also discovered that the apartment 
 was a strange one. 
 
 Sui'prise or fear will sometimes remove the consequences of ine- 
 bi-iety, and men become suddenly sober. I felt this singidar elFect. In 
 a moment after I awoke, I was conscious that I had been lately a victim 
 to " the rosy god ;" and that I was now, in Irish parlance, "just in the 
 very centre of a hobble." Dipping my face beneath the counterpane, 
 I murmured in a growling voice — " The lights ! the lights I my head, 
 my head !" 
 
 " Ruth," said the elder female, " remove the candles. Samuel I my 
 son, what meaneth this ? Ait thou fallen ? " 
 
 " Yes," I groaned ; " I had a heavy fall, indeed." 
 
 " Ah ! Samuel — would that that groan were the groan of sin, and 
 not of suffering ; and that thy conscience rather than thy stomach were 
 moved. Speak ! How did the enemy overtake thee ? ^Miere did he 
 enclose thee in his net ? " 
 
 I dipped my head beneath the bed coverings, and, in a husky voice, 
 muttered — " The barracks in George's-street." 
 
 " Mercy on us ! — Ruth — Rachel. It is the large brick building in 
 which abide godless men in scarlet. And how, Samuel, did the 
 evil one achieve thy fall ?" 
 
 " One said I was floored by a chai-lie, and another left it upon a clip 
 from a blackthorn." 
 
 " No, no, Samuel ; I ask the cai'nal means. "Was it by that soul- 
 destroying liquor, w4ne, or was it by worse ?" 
 
 " Worse, worse," I mumbled in reply. 
 
 " Oh dear !" ejaculated Mrs. Pryme. 
 
 " Ah me !" responded the gentle Rachel. 
 
 " Alack, alack ! continued the conscientious Ruth. 
 
 " Name the snare of the tempter." 
 
 " I'm too bashful," I grumljled. 
 
 " Nay, Samuel. Close thy ears, Ruth— avert thy head, Rachel ; 
 he would not have his shame revealed. Was it, Samuel, a dancing 
 Herodias — or some Delilali, with bewitching looks r" 
 
 " No, no ; worse, worse." 
 
i'fi THE FOUTUNES OF 
 
 '•' Mercy on us ! Speak, and name the fatal cause." 
 " Punch — punch ! — Whisky new — the kettle not boiled — and too 
 much acid," came grumbling from below the blankets. 
 
 " How fearful is inebriety ! Thy very voice, my son, is changed. 
 But verily, as it is thy first offending, I -will pai'don it, and give thee 
 the kiss of peace." 
 
 So saying, she popped her head through the curtains, and bestowed 
 upon me the reconciliatory accolade. After thus sealing my pardon, 
 the worthy gentlewoman sailed out of the apartment, accompanied by 
 her handmaid Ruth. 
 
 I felt myself in a curious position, — located in a strange house, 
 ensconced in a comfortable bed from which the right ov.-ner would 
 px'esently eject me, and Avatched by a lovely girl of eighteen, on whose 
 sweet countenance the very imprint of innocence was stamped. And 
 what was I? — A regidar impostor. "Well, what was to be done ? 
 Should I admit my viilany, and be bundled off direct to Newgate, 
 under a charge of burglaiy, or some more felonious intentions ? And to 
 whom was this interesting confession to be made ? The old dame ? — 
 no, faith — there no kiss of peace would ratify my pardon. The young 
 one ? — pshaw, the very idea that she had been seated beside the bed of 
 a man in scarlet would annihilate Rachel on the spot. No doubt a dis- 
 covery must ensue — but, like everything a man dislikes, I determined 
 to procrastinate it and trust to fortune. 
 
 " Samuel," said the sweetest voice imaginable, '•' does thy head 
 ache ? Let me apply this essence ;" and passing her hand gently 
 through the curtain?, she bathed my temples with eau-de-Cologne. 
 My arm was outside the coverlid, — she took my hand in hers and 
 pressed it affectionately. 
 
 " How feverish !" she murmured. " But here comes Ruth, with 
 sometliing our mother sends, AvJiich wiU allay thy thirst." 
 
 The stiff-backed abigail deposited the liquid on a table. 
 
 " Come, Rachel, sleep will restore thy brother." Then addi-essing 
 herself to me, " Farewell, friend Samuel, — may this be the last of thy 
 foolishness :" and after this flattering admonition, she exited from the 
 chamber, stiff as a ramrod. 
 
 *' Farewell, dear brother," — and Rachel again clasped my hand in 
 hers, — " good night ! I trust sincerely I shall find thee better in the 
 morning." 
 
 " Stop !" I mumbled. " Rachel, clear,— deca- Rachel !" 
 
 " What, my brother ?" 
 
 " The — the — the kiss of peace !" I managed to stammer from 
 beneath the bed coverings. 
 
 "AVillingly, dear Samuel ;" and lips, "fidl, rosy, ripe," were artlessly 
 pressed to mine, w^hile a prayer, pure from a guileless heart, implored 
 pai'don for the past, and a blessing for the future. The next moment 
 the door was softly closed, and I '■ left alone in ray glory." 
 
 Would it be credited that imder such circumstances I had the 
 audacity to sleep ? But sleep I did — and when I slept, my head 
 was on a peaceful plUow, and the kiss of innocence still fragrant OJi 
 ray lips. 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 57 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 LIKE IN A "WATCH-HOUSE 
 
 " I'll ne'er be drunk ^^•hile I live again but in honest, civil, 
 godly company, for this trick ; if I be drunk, I'll be drunk Avith 
 those that have the fear of God, and not with drunken knaves." 
 
 Merry Wives of Windsor. 
 
 Reader, — will you make a clean Lreast and answer a simple ques- 
 tion ? — Were you ever regularly cribbed, and deposited for safe keep- 
 ing in a watch-house ? Don't confound places, and suppose for a 
 moment, that I mean those refugia 2^<^ccatorinn, now-a-days called 
 " station-houses." The two are no more alike, than the London 
 Tavern is to a boiled-beef shop. If you reply to my inquiry in the 
 negative, and art young, I can only say the mischief is irremediable — 
 and for the best reason, because watch-houses have been defunct these 
 twenty years. If, like myself, you are a gentleman of a certain age, 
 and also plead ignorance — you have nothing left but to mourn over 
 misspent time, and lament a misfortune, for which no one is blamable 
 but youx-self. 
 
 t Many a jovial hour have I passed in St. Andrews — I don't mean 
 the Scotch College so called, but the Dublin watch-house of pleasant 
 memory ; and I have also occasionally favoured with a visit other 
 establishments of the same kind, where belated gentlemen were sure to 
 find the door open without having the trouble of knocking twice : — but 
 who, except " upon compulsion," would enter a modern bastile ? 
 The place is in everything an abomination, and so republican Avhere- 
 v,'ithal in its regulations, as to be fitted only for the reception of the 
 canaille. There, cajjtains and cabmen are placed upon a par. " Look 
 to him, jailer," is the only order that is attended to ; and vrhether 
 you belong to swells West-end, or the swell-mob, matters not a brass 
 button. The thing's similar all through, and you undergo the same 
 process of purification. You are cooped up all night, thermometer in 
 summer 110, in winter down to zero — and bundled before the Beak 
 in the morning all " unkempt " and with " marvellous foul linen." 
 Of course, you are not flat enough to give your real name. If you arc 
 a tradesman, why you wish to " come it genteel," and pass for the time 
 being as Mr. Ferdinand Fitzsnooks. If, on the contrary, you happen 
 to be a " top-sawyer," you descend from your " high estate," and — 
 though " Baron or Squire, or Knight of the Shire," — adopt " for the 
 nonce," the simpler appellation of Smith, Brown, or Robinson. Well, 
 in due course, you are favoured with a hearing — the charges are proven, 
 and the Worthy Magistrate — he's always so termed in the Sunday 
 papers — runs you up a bill as glibly as the waitress of an eating-house. 
 Imprimis, you are scored down five shillings for being drunk— forty 
 ditto, for assault and battery — as much more for jingling some Doctor's 
 bell — and the tale ends in your five-pound flimsy having got a regular 
 sickener. You fork the money out, and prepare directly to make your 
 
58 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 exit ; but hold, you are not safe yet — wait for the parting admoni- 
 tiou. Beaky having first premised that your name is neither Smith, 
 Brown, nor Robinson, is sorry to assure you that he considers you a dis- 
 grace to your family and order — and, al'ter a flattering panegyric upon his 
 own nice sense of what is due to public justice, he concludes with a posi- 
 tive assurance, that if you ever renew your acquaintance with him, so 
 far from standing " betwixt the wind and your nobility," you shall have 
 the benefit of a month's exercise on the tread-mill, " and no mistake." 
 And now comes Mr. Ferdinand Fitzsnooks. lie stands forward — 
 but how different is his bearing from that of the pseudo Mr. Smith, who 
 has just jumped into a cab in waiting, with coronets emblazoned on 
 the panels. He does not listen to the charges with inattention ; nor 
 does he venture to meet the magistrate's eye, as it occasionally is turned 
 to that part of the court where he stands. He has been silly and 
 noisy and riotous — but he has done no mischief. He is found guilty, 
 and fined tlu-ee pounds. The pale girl behind him — she with the 
 infant in her arms — begins to sob, while Ferdinand appeals to the 
 bench, and on the plea of a first offence, solicits a remission of the 
 penalty. But Rhadamanthus is not sterner than his judge. Pshaw! 
 worthy sir, let him go ! he is but a drudge in a lawyer's office — his 
 master is strict — he will lose his situation, and what will that pale girl 
 and her infant do ? No ; the upright magistrate is obdurate — and the 
 slang of what "justice requires" is his only answer to the prisoner's 
 apjjeal. The jailer, a filthy, dogged, di-unken, red-nosed brute, taps him 
 on the shoulder and inquires, in pickpocket parlance, whether he can 
 " stump the rowdy ?" A melancholy shake of the head tells his inability, 
 and he is committed for — what ? — want of money — to the House of 
 Correction for a fortnight. Worthy sir — pause before you send that silly 
 young man to prison. Look at his wife — she is barely eighteen — young, 
 pretty, and inexperienced. She has not a relative in London, — and 
 steeped in poverty and surrounded with temptations, will you rob her 
 for fourteen days of her protector, because he cannot command three 
 sovereigns ? True, you fined Mr. Smith two pounds more, and also 
 talked something about the tread-miU — but, for your very life, you 
 would not have ventured to commit him. I could show you Mr. Smith's 
 name in the peerage — ay, and high up, too ; and he could have as 
 easily given you a cheque upon his bankers for five thousand, as he 
 handed you the penalty of five pounds. And this is law ! — England, 
 England ! you call yourself the land of freedom ! 
 
 But what has all this to do with yoiu* story ? Reader, — I beg your 
 pardon, and thank you for the hint. 
 
 The hatch of St. Andrew's watch-house — a sort of outer-door, only 
 bi'east-high, but furnislied with a row of iron spikes which would bid 
 defiance to Harlequin himself — was closed — and, a very unusual occur- 
 rence at that late hour, all within the house of durance was quiet. Peter 
 Bradley, the captain of the hold, was seated on a wooden bench in his • 
 accustomed corner, with a little table before him, on which was awfully 
 displayed the fatal book in which delinquencies were chronicled, flanked 
 by a pewter vessel fuU charged with Sweetman's XXX. Three guardians 
 of the night, who formed the jail-guard, sate round the fire " drawing" 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAX. 5'J 
 
 a comfortable dudhehe, and casting, from time to time, a longing eje 
 at the battered quart deposited beside the elbow of the commander. 
 There were other occupants — for occasionally melancholy faces peeped 
 through a grated wicket in the door, which separated the dungeon- 
 keep from the guai-d-room, — and from their place of captivity looked 
 anxiously at the great man seated in the corner, whose nod could loose 
 or bind. Indeed the task of watch and ward was easy, for the prisoners 
 were comprised in one solitary group, namely — a di-unken sailor, a 
 fidtUer with one leg, and " a maid who loved the moon," brought there 
 for fixUing through a shop-window and making smithereens of divers 
 panes of glass, for which, as, from a lack of the king's currency, they 
 could make no proper compensation, they were safely incarcerated. 
 
 Peter Bradley nibbed his pen, laid down his spectacles, gave a heavy 
 sigh, and then, as if to kill care, took a long and steady pull from 
 the pewter. " Business," said the commander, addi-essing himself to 
 his myrmidons at the lire, " business is gone to the dogs. 'Tis twelve 
 o'clock 1 " he continued, as the wooden time-piece above his head 
 announced the " witching hour." " Twelve o'clock ! and not a sowl 
 picked up but devils who couldn't muster, if it saved them from the 
 gallows, turnpike-money for a walking-stick. Out with tliem varmint 
 in the black-hole, Barney Casey ; what use in shuttin' up craters 
 without a sadtogue* and lumbrin' the place wid people who can't 
 stand a pint of beer." 
 
 Barney, obedient to the orders of his chief, made a general jail 
 delivery. The nymph as she glided out, acknowledged the favour 
 conferred by dropping a gracefid curtsey as she passed " the seat of 
 justice ;" the fiddler as he hopped across the floor, dutifully ducked his 
 head, and bade a " good night to his Honour ;" but the sailor, reckless of 
 the merciful interposition which had restored him to liberty, and freed 
 him from all liability incurred for broken glass, consigned all and every 
 in the watch-house to a climate much hotter than the "^^est Indies, for 
 Avhich ungrateful and irreligious proceeding, he received a momentum 
 in the door-way which enabled him, " in double quick," to reach the 
 opposite curb-stone. The hatch was thereupon safely locked, and ]\Ii-. 
 Bradley again addressed his brotlier officios : — 
 
 " There's more beside that's vexin' me, boys. I hear they are goin' to 
 overhawl us — and sorra a turn, good or bad, that happens through the 
 night, but must be entered in black and white. Feaks ! I thought 
 myself yesterday, that something was in the wind, for the magistrates 
 were as short with me as cat's-hair ; and that divil, Artur French, was 
 nearly hobblin' me fairly. ' Who's this Ai-tur French?' says ]Mr. Jones. 
 * Ah, then,' says I, ' it's himself that's a raal gintleman. Sure, wasn't 
 
 his father Ulick French, of French Hall, and his mother' 'Don't 
 
 bother me about his mother,' says he, mad as a hatter ; ' VHio is he ? 
 what is he ?' — 'A coUegian, plase ye'r honour.' — ' Ay, and a promising 
 disciple he is, if I may judge,' says he, ' by yom- watch-book. Why, 
 
 * " Scultogne, is a monetary phrase, used generally in the kingdom of Connaught. 
 Its metallic value not being clearly ascertained, I have doubts whether it Avould be 
 a legal tender." — Extract from an opinion of Mr. Richard Dunn, the eminent 
 barrister. 
 
CO THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 he's wicl ye, Mr. Bradley, three times a week. The next time he pays 
 you a visit, I beg you'll be good enough to introduce him to me.' " 
 
 " Troth ; and ye won't," observed one of the guard of honour at the 
 fire-place, as he leisurely recharged his dudheine; "he'll blarney ye, 
 and git away Avid the ould story of both ye'r mothers being Roscom- 
 mon women." 
 
 " I wish the Lord would send in a dacent customer, any how, that 
 could pay his way," said a second cliarlie : " if iver I was drier in my 
 life !" 
 
 " Feaks !" observed the third, " and it's myself that has got a cob- 
 web in my throat. But, whisht ! boys — look out there ! Who knows 
 our luck yet ?" 
 
 Uj) jumped one of the smokers, and craning his head over the 
 hatch, communicated the gratifying intelligence that the patrol were 
 coming up with divers delinquents in close custody. The charlies 
 pocketed their pipes, Mr. Bradley mounted his spectacles, while the 
 shuffling of feet, and an uproar of many voices talking and arguing at 
 their highest pitch, joined to the maudlin singing of a noisy drunkard, 
 announced the immediate approach of a detachment of a body whom 
 poor Burns dreaded and denounced — 
 
 " That black banditti — the citj- guard." 
 
 " Here they come," said the charlie at tlie hatch : " one man in 
 red, either dead or dead drunk — three shy-looking scamps behind him — 
 and a regular swell in front. Blessed Bridget ! is it him ? Be the 
 hole in my coat, that's youi'self, Artiu* French, if ye'r ovir gromid. 
 May the divil welcome you, astore ! 
 
 " Then if it is," said the irritated commandant, " Ai-tur French, 
 you'll have a new acquaintance in the morning, before ten o'clock." 
 
 There was no mistake in the identity. A young man di'essed in 
 the extreme of fashion pushed through the watchmen with an air of 
 authority, and hopping on the bench where Mr. Bradley had hitherto 
 reposed his person in solitary dignity, seated himself, unbidden, beside 
 this di'eaded functionary, and — 
 
 '• for no inviting did he ■wait," 
 
 but seized the sacred pewter, and drained the contents to the very 
 bottom. 
 
 " How thirsty," said he, " a shindy makes one ! Not bad stuff 
 that, Peter. But, governor, Avhat's tlie matter ?" — and !Mr. French 
 looked steadily in ISlr. Bradley's face, which had assumed what was 
 intended to pass for an expression of dignified displeasure. " If you're 
 not as sour as a Seville orange to-night ! Come, come, old chap, tip 
 lis your daddle — give ns a grip of your bunch of fives !" 
 
 But Mr. Bradley held back his hand. " I tell ye what, Artur— don't 
 be after vexin' me — I'm in bad temper to-night— and I'll stand no 
 gammon." 
 
 " Stand your granny !" returned the young rotie; " I'll tell ye what 
 I'll stand— and that's more to the purpose. Broiled kidneys, black 
 
HECTOR OIIALLORAX. CI 
 
 cockles, a gallon of heavy wet, and as mncli punch as you can swim 
 in. Off with ye to Xosey McKeown's," — and crumpling up a pound 
 note, he pitched it into a watchman's face. — " See that all comes in 
 hot ; and take care that his daughter Sibby brews the punch. Now, 
 Peter, try and look pleasant. An't I better to you than a bad step- 
 son ?" — and he punched the commander's ribs unceremoniously. 
 
 " Arrah — Artur, have done, will ye ? "NYliat the divil di'uv ye here 
 the night, good or bad ?" asked the commandant. 
 
 " "Well, I fancy you have named the gentleman that did it " — 
 
 " I say, what brought ye here ?" 
 
 " Half a score of your scoundi-els, Peter. I fell over that cursed 
 feUow in the red jacket sleeping on the guard bed — and before I 
 could get fau-ly on my pins, these villains had me fast." 
 
 " Well, there's nothing else for it — you must go before Mr. Jones." 
 
 " ]\L-. Jones may go to Bath ; but before 'Mr. Jones I won't go." 
 
 " I can't screen ye longer," exclaimed the governor. 
 
 " Screen me !" exclaimed the prisoner j " why what a pother you 
 make about a little trifling civility." 
 
 " Trifling civility !" exclaimed the astonished constable : '•' Oh, mur- 
 der, murder ! there's nothing like ungratitude. Trifling civility ! 
 Och, Ai'tur French — I have done wid ye. "When you were cotched in 
 the garret, diinkin taa with IMr. Abbot's maid, who got ye off, Artur ? 
 "When the sawyer's arm was broke in the roohaivn at Pie-corner, who 
 got the tinker's wife to prove yom" alabay, and sware she met ye wid 
 Kitty Flanigan, in Mud Island ? "When — " 
 
 " Arrah, stop man : what's the use of raking up old yarns ? Peter, 
 T always said you were a decent cove — but they swear you're doting 
 lately, and that you'll never stop tiU ye turn Methodist. Only for the 
 tender regard I have for yourself, I would give up your shop altogether, 
 and take my custom across the water to Mary's watchhouse. But I 
 can't forget old friendship — the more so, when I remember that your 
 mother and mine were both born in Roscommon." 
 
 A horse-laugh was heai'd from the fire-place. 
 
 " Arrah, have done wid yoiu* blarney," said the commander, testily, 
 " and nivir mind my mother. "What charge is again ye, the night ?" 
 
 " Nothing — a mere trifle ; I was endeavouring to make peace," 
 rctm'ned ]\L-. French, with unblushing effrontery. 
 
 " jNIighty like a whale !" observed the commander, in a side whisper. 
 
 " I charge him wid a felonious assault !" exclaimed a voice from 
 behind the door. 
 
 " Step forwai'd, young man." And the complainant placed himself 
 in front of jNIr. Bradley's table. 
 
 " What's ye'r chai-ge ?" inquired the judge. " What have ye to 
 say agin this respectable young gentleman, who was strivin' to bring- 
 about pace and harmony ?" 
 
 " Pace and harmony !" exclaimed the complainant : " he was the 
 worst of the whole lot, barrin' the quaker. There wouldn't have been 
 a blow, but for the two of them ; and the quaker — " 
 
 " The quaker's not before this court," said ]Mi-. Bradley, with great 
 dignity : and yet 'hlx. Bradley told a fib ; for the identictd Quaker 
 
62 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 was lying sound asleep uiion the guard bed. " ^Miat cliai-ge do you 
 m;il<^e, young man ?" 
 
 " Why that BIr. French, as you call hhn, split my ear -with a black 
 thorn." 
 
 " Oh ! you villain !" exclaimed the accused. " Now, Peter, the 
 fellow's on his oath. Peter, I leave it to you. On the nick of your 
 sowl, as an honest man, don't I always fight with a sapling ?" 
 
 " He does, in troth !" responded three charlies in a breath. 
 
 " Now, Peter, what do you say to that ? Wouldn't that make a 
 man's hair stand an end ?" 
 
 '•' 'Pon my conscience," observed IVIi". Bradley, " Pm thunderstruck 
 — young man, what's ye'r name ?" 
 
 " Sniggs," said the complainant. 
 
 " What are ye ?" 
 
 '• A tailor, to trade," replied the accuser. 
 
 " Then, Sniggs," returned Mr. Bradley, " the laast I can do is to 
 transport ye." 
 
 " Transport me ! " exclaimed the astonished tailor: "Arrah, for 
 what ? Is it for having my ear split ? " 
 
 " Hold your tongue ; I see, though young, ye'r a hardened oflFender. 
 Have ye no conscience, man ? Oh, murder ! to try and sware away 
 the life of an innicint gintleman ! — Is your mother livin' ?" 
 
 " No," replied ]Mr. Sniggs, not exactly comprehending the drift of 
 Mr. Bradley's examination. 
 
 '• Have you sister, or brother?" 
 
 " Nather," returned the quondam accuser ; but now, as it would 
 appear, by some freak of fortune transmuted into the accused. 
 
 '• Have ye no relashins, good nor bad, ye unfortunit divil?" 
 
 " I have," replied the artist, "a third cousin, a well-behaved girl 
 she is, and greatly respected by her mistress, who's married to a tanner 
 in the Liberty." 
 
 " Well," said Peter graciously, " on account of that well-behaved 
 girl, your third cousin, I'll show mercy to you this time. Turn him 
 out. Go home and repent, Sniggs : God forgive ye ! that's all I 
 have to say. Be off wid ye." 
 
 " Arrah, blur and nouns !" ejaculated the disappointed tailor, "and 
 is that all the satisfaction I'm to get for ha'S'ing my ear slit like a swal- 
 low's tail?" 
 
 " Out with him, I say. Wait till I ketch ye here agen, Sniggs. 
 Be tliis book," (and Peter flourished the empty pewter-pot) '' that 
 well-behaved girl, your thu'd cousin that lives wid the tanner, won't 
 get you off the second time. I wish the drink was come. I'm grately 
 fatigued giviu' good advice — it always laves me diy as a wliistle. 
 But what's to be done wid the chap in the corner ? " 
 
 *' There's no use spakin' to him now," returned a watchman ; " he's 
 blind drunk, and fast asleep into the bargain." 
 
 " Did he do much damage ?" 
 
 " Not he," returned Mr. French ; " poor divil ! he couldn't stand, 
 let alone strike. At the commencement of the row he was knocked 
 down like a nine-pin, and I wonder he Avas not trodden to death. 
 
HECTOR OIIALLORAN. 63 
 
 Send him home. Peter ; 'pon my life, it's dangerous to keep him 
 here." 
 
 " Are ye joking, Artur ?" 
 
 " No, honour bright, Peter. Look at his buttons, one of ye. 
 "SVliat's the number of his regiment ?" 
 '• The twenty-first." 
 " Away with him to George's-street." 
 
 " ArraJi, and upon my conscience, ourselves ouglit to know tlie 
 road purty well. God's blessin' attind the Kilkinnys ! it was a pla- 
 sure to do bisnis wid them ; — four or five to be carried home, re^lar, 
 at two shniins a head, and no cobblin' about the money afterwards. 
 The sergeant of the guard tallied them as they came in, and it was 
 only to bring the score to the quarter-master, and down came the brads 
 in the momin'. But who's to pay for tliis chap ?" 
 
 '"' I," said the wild collegian, as he tossed a piece of money to the 
 speaker. '•' It's only what one gentleman should do for another, v^hen 
 he's too drunk to be able to do it for himself. But here comes sujiper. 
 I wonder what became of the quaker. Ah, Peter I he n'a.s a trump — 
 and such a hitter ! Til respect a quaker while I live. Give me a pull 
 of ' the heavy,' and let us have the cockles while they are hot." 
 
 "WhUe Mr. Bradley, with his young and amiable friend, proceeded 
 to discuss their supper, a couple of watchmen lifted the unfortunate 
 quaker off the guard-bed. The movement roused him ; but it was 
 soon evident that the late symposium was stiU uppermost in his brain. 
 " Come along," said the charlie ; " step out like a man ; we're 
 bringin' you home." 
 
 The remark eHcitcd a drunken effort to be melodious — and INIr 
 Pryme sang, or strove to sing, '•' We won't go home till morning." 
 " The divil a here ye'll stay then," responded his supporters. 
 " "Wine — more wine.—' Wine cures the gout,' " returned the quaker. 
 '•' If it does, sorra touch you'll have of the disorder for a month of 
 Sundays. Come along wid him." 
 
 The quaker's head was still ringing with drunken madrigals, and he 
 proceeded to chaunt " Old King Cole." 
 
 " Arrah, don't bother us wid King Cole ; but try and put the feet 
 aninder ye. "We'll bring ye to George's-street." 
 
 " No, no ;" muttered the Quaker ; " I'U go home to the Merchants' 
 Quay." 
 
 " Divil a sich an umproper place ye'll go near. Haven't ye been 
 enough on the ran-tan already the night?" and away they toddled 
 towards the barracks, which destination was safely reached, and the 
 body of the pseudo lieutenant delivered to the guard, with an 
 intimation on the part of the watchmen, that on the morrow par- 
 ticular inquu-ies should be made touching the general health of the 
 invalid. 
 
 '• This must be the officer that joined last week," said the ser- 
 geant. " Go to his room and find his servant ; and first put a knap- 
 sack under his head, and take his stock off. To do him justice, I never 
 saw a more drunken gentleman." 
 
 When John Crawford was awakened, and had made a personal 
 
64 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 inspection, to the utter surprise of the main guard, " pioneers and all," 
 he repudiated the sleeping gentleman, and satisfactorily illustrated the 
 old adage, that the cowl no more constitutes a monk, than a red jacket 
 makes the soldier. Honest John's first care was to secure his master's 
 uniform from further damage, which he contrived to effect by the sub- 
 stitution of a shooting jacket ; and then, nemine contradicente, it was 
 agreed, that drunken men should be permitted to sleep themselves 
 sober ; and that accordingly, the unhappy puritan should be left in 
 undisturbed repose. 
 
 Morning dawned through the guard-room lattice before Samuel 
 Pryme awoke. If there be a feeling more horrible than another, it is 
 the return of reason to a drunken neophyte when he wakens after his 
 first debauch. The quaker stared wildly round him ; there were twenty 
 men in the room — all strangers to him ; some sleeping on the wooden 
 bench on wdiich he lay, and others sitting smoking by the fire. His 
 head was giddy — his bi-ain wandered — he was tortured with a burning 
 thirst. Where was he? Suddenly his pale cheeks reddened with 
 shame ; he felt like a Hindu who has lost caste; and, burying his face 
 between his hands, in a smothered voice that bespoke a consciousness 
 of abasement, while tears fell fast, he fiiintly murmured, " "^Vliere am I ?" 
 
 The sergeant laid aside a book which he had been reading in the 
 window — and, though a rough soldier, he felt sincerely for the penitent. 
 
 " Don't take on so," said he. " Young folk will be giddy. Bless 
 your heart — there's none of our gentlemen that arn't wildish now and 
 then. I wnsh we could get you something to drink ; but the canteen 
 is closed. Would you like to go home ? I dare not spare a man ; but 
 I'll send for INIr. O'Halloran's servant, and pass him through the gate." 
 The quaker thanked him, but declined assistance ; asked for and 
 received a draught of water " cold from the pump," the sentry 
 unclosed the wicket, and Samuel Pryme returned to his father's house, 
 "a sadder, if not a wiser man," than when he quitted it the preceding 
 evening. 
 
 The clock struck five. Peter Bradley was snoring on his guard- 
 bed, and Mr. French taking his ease at an unpretending hostelrie in 
 Smock Alley, not generally known in the fashionable world, but 
 patronized by the pleasant part of the community, and y'cleped " The 
 Hole in the Wall." I felt as much at home in my dormitory as if I 
 had been legal proprietor of it, while he, unhappy youth ! reconnoitred 
 the house from the outside, with all the suspicion of a man who medi- 
 tates a burglary on the premises. In their respective chambers, IMrs. 
 Pryme and her handmaiden had owaied the influence of the drowsy 
 god, and Rachel slumbered with as safe a conscience as if she had 
 never kissed a fusileer. There is an old saw, gentle reader, which 
 insinuates that it is prudent occasionally to allow " sleeping dogs to 
 lie." We'll adopt it "for the nonce" — inquire what had befallen that 
 alter ego, my foster-brother, and, with your gracious permission, fol- 
 loAv through the next chapter, the fortunes of Mark Antony 
 
 O'TOOLE. 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 65 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE COCK AND PUNXII-BOWL 
 
 " Bosalind. Here's a young maid with travel much opprcss'cl, 
 And faints for succour." 
 
 " Coria. I pity her, 
 
 And wish for her sake, more than for my own, 
 My fortunes were more able to relieve her." 
 
 As You Like It. 
 
 Although I departed from Kilcullen at cockcrow. Mark Antony 
 O'Toole, having borrowed some hours from the night, had taken the 
 road before me. Apprehensive of the desperate lengths to which 
 deserted dairy-maids may be driven, the fosterer moved off without 
 beat of drum ; and the better to evade pursuit, had Kitty Dwyer 
 attempted to recover the truant, and " vi et armis" repair her repu- 
 tation by a sanatory visit to the altar, Mr. O'Toole prudently declined 
 marching by the mail-coach road, and masked his retreat with an 
 ability that puzzled the priest himself. But as it turned out, Mark 
 Antony's caution was unnecessary. Kitty bore her bereavement like 
 a christian woman, — hinted that the sea held as good fish as ever had 
 been taken yet, — and, from divers hymeneal overtures, blessed God 
 that she had no gi*ounds for despondency. Aiding and assisting 
 sound philosophy with '•' rum and true religion," she got over her 
 disappointment — within a fortnight, the fake one was forgotten — 
 Miss Dwyer " open to an ofier" — and ready to commit matrimony 
 at sight. 
 
 Two days before his evasion from my father's house, Mark Antony 
 had privately despatched his kit by a Dublin carrier, and the few 
 uecessai'ies required for his journey were formed into a bundle of 
 small dimensions, and suspended from the extremity of a well-tried 
 shillelagh. Dressed in a smart morning suit that erstwhile had 
 called me owner, the fosterer had more than once examined his outer 
 man with evident satisfaction. His step was light, his breast without 
 a care, and his pocket heavier than it had ever been before — he went 
 on his way rejoicing — and when evening began to close, Mark Antony 
 had placed five-and-twenty miles between him and that ill-requited 
 fair one, whose only crime was loving " not wisely but too well." 
 
 Half a century ago L-ish engineers, in Yankee parlance, were 
 " reg'lar go-a-heads." Neither condescending to turn to the right or 
 to the left, they crossed the country " as God had made it," took the 
 bull by the horns, and scorning to steal round a hiU they boldly 
 breasted it. The fosterer had been escalading one of these heights for 
 the last hour, and, on topping its ridge, overtook two wayfarers of 
 opposite sexes who had preceded him in the ascent, and were now 
 resting after its achievement. 
 
 Like himself, the travellers were not incommoded with heavy 
 baggage, for what appeared to be their united kit was even smaller than 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 his own, and was comprehended within the compass of a faded silk-hand- 
 kerchief. The man was stout, undersized, and looked full thirty — 
 the gii'l seemed scarcely nineteen — and from their dress and genenil 
 appearance, the fosterer was sorely at a loss to decide to what grade of 
 society the strangers appertained. 
 
 The male traveller's dingy black frock had once seen better days, 
 and his buff vest and nankeen unmentionables would have been all the 
 better for a visit to the laundress. His hat was of that order deno- 
 minated " shocking bad ;" while it seemed doubtful that his boots 
 would bear him to the end of his journey, and if they did, it would be 
 by an expiring effort with which their history must close. His com- 
 plexion was sallow, his features large, his whiskers black and bushy. 
 He looked a dirty Jew ; and certainly, " take him for all in all," he 
 was not the sort of person whom a gentleman would borrow money 
 to entertain. 
 
 In every particular the girl was unlike her companion. She was 
 pretty, tall, fair, and well formed. Her costume — a collection of 
 faded finery — was tolerably clean ; and, poverty apart, her air and 
 address were those of one who had once moved in a different sphere, 
 and, to judge by appearances, of one also, upon whom fortune had 
 frowned severely. 
 
 On both sides some civilities were interchanged ; and to an inquiry 
 from the fosterer as to where entertainment and lodgings could be 
 found, the man pointed out a solitary house at the distance of a mile, 
 intimating that it was a carman's stage held by travellers in high esti- 
 mation. It was moreover kept by a buxom widow, and denominated 
 
 THE COCK AKD PUNCH-BOWL. 
 
 The ice once broken, the dark gentleman became very commu- 
 nicative. 
 
 " If you want good fare, prime whisky, and a sound snooze, the 
 Cock's your place, sir. The landlady's a trump, parlour snug, and 
 not a flea if you searched the beds for a fortnight. Come, my love," 
 aad he addressed his fair companion, who frowned an angry answer 
 
HECTOR O'HALLORAX. 67 
 
 io tliis term of endearment, — " you and I are for the same crib, and 
 we'll give this gentleman our company." 
 
 The stroller spoke -with the volubility of an auctioneer, and thus 
 continued : — 
 
 " This lady, sir, is my sister, — iVIiss Julia Montague. "VVe are 
 both professional, — known extensively in the dramatic world, — I, in 
 the comic line — and Julia, in the musical. Bad spec at Granard — 
 manager an ass, — played tragedy to please his swivel-eyed wife, — she 
 Desdemona ! — she be forked, — house didn't draw money to pay 
 candles, — manager, calls himself Mortimer, right name Malowney, 
 bolted with any blunt there was — left the company without a tanner, 
 and obliged July and myself to travel here tandem, — one leg before the 
 other. Better luck again, — we'll both be on the boards of Crow-street 
 before Christmas — eh, July ?" 
 
 When the Jew had named the connexion between himself and the 
 v^-audering melodist, Mai-k Antony's incredulous stare was returned by 
 a look of contempt directed by the lady at her companion, which dis- 
 claimed relationship altogether ; and a trifling incident ended iht 
 attempt at imposition. 
 
 A knot of the handkercliief which secured the joint-stock property 
 of the comedian and the cantatrice had slipped unperceived, and 
 when the accident was discovered, portions of the wardrobe were seen 
 upon the road a hundred yards in the rear. ISIr. Montague started off to 
 recover the missing valuables, and Julia and Mark Antony were thus 
 for a brief space left together. The opportunity was not neglected. 
 The girl, after a searching glance behind, suddenly addressed the fosterer. 
 
 " Stranger, beware ! — you know not the scoundrel who has been 
 speaking to you. He's all a lie, — a Jew, a sleight-of-hand man, a pick- 
 pocket, and a pugilist. Avoid him, or he'll cheat you first, and bully 
 you afterwards." (A smile from Mark Antony intimated that on the 
 latter score he was incredidous altogether.) " He followed me without 
 my knowledge, and joined me on the road. Will you protect me to the 
 next town ? I w-ould not trust m.yself another hour in that villain's 
 company. But soft — he comes," — and, with ready tact, she changed 
 the conversation to some common -place occurrence as the Jew hurried 
 up and joined them. A few minutes more brought them to the Cock 
 and Punch-bowl, which proved to be a low and straggling edifice 
 situated at the junction of four roads. 
 
 As Mark Antony had rapidly adopted the prejudices of his fair 
 monitress, he now regarded the Israelite with feelings of aversion and 
 contempt. To fear he was a stranger — and the very knowledge that 
 the Jew was a regular prize-fighter, probably occasioned on his part 
 a more unequivocal display of personal antipathy. On entering the 
 hostlerie, Mr. O'Toole asked for and obtained a private apartment — 
 ordered supper for the Prima Donna and himself — intimating plainly 
 to the fat landlady, that notwithstanding his celebrity in the comic 
 line, Mr. Montague was not to be a member of the mess — and that, 
 accordingly, the Jew and himself must remain what they had hitherto 
 been — strangers to each other. 
 
 It was now twilight. The girl, but not without some difficultv, had 
 
 F 2 
 
68 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 recovered her bundle from the sleight-of-hand man, who, after several 
 audacious attempts at a renewal of acquaintance, which on the part of 
 the fosterer Avere as decidedly repulsed, was obliged to put uj) with a 
 seat beside the kitchen lire, and there enjoy the tantalizing prospect of 
 watching the progress of a supper at which his presence had been 
 interdicted. 
 
 A noise outside attracted the fair vocalist and her protector to the 
 window. It was a recruiting party en route to a neighbouring pattern, 
 to pick up " food for powder." There, a festival was held, where 
 fame spoke truly, love and penance, whisky and broken heads, were 
 all so agreeably united, that the man who could not be happy at 
 Cahirmore must be suited only for " stratagems and treasons," and 
 a personage upon whom pleasure would be thrown away. 
 
 The charge of foot which halted at the Cock and Punchbowl con- 
 sisted of a sergeant, whose waist the sash found difficulty to encom- 
 pass — a brace of privates too dirty for the ranks, but who crimped 
 inimitably — a boy, taller than his drum by the head — and a lean and 
 sallow lifer Avho had counted forty summers ; these with a couple of 
 recruits completed this "gallant gathering." On the shoulders of the 
 stouter, the sergeant's pack was strapped; while to the honourable keeping 
 of the other, the commander's bilboa was entrusted — a weapon, whose 
 unstained steel had never yet been " incarnadined " Avith human gore. 
 The soldiers presently ensconced themselves in a room beneath — 
 Mrs. O'Leary paraded the expected supper — Mark Antony and his 
 fair friend seated themselves and commenced active operations, the 
 fosterer eating as men eat who have wallied thirty miles of Irish 
 measurement, and the vocalist, as if to her, poor girl ! for many a day 
 a comfortable meal had been unknown. 
 
 In the mean time the rejected Israelite bade fair to sup with Duke 
 Humphry. Admission to the state apartment was hopeless, for from 
 thence he had been peremptorily excluded. In the kitchen, divers 
 hints had been dropped that his absence would be preferable to his 
 company ; and as Jews don't list, the soldiers repudiated him altogether. 
 Deeply incensed against the wandering actress for deserting him in 
 this " his hour of need," and stung to the quick by the firmness and 
 contempt with which Mark Antony repelled all advances towards 
 intimacy, he secretly vowed vengeance against both. Luckily, a 
 Hebrew's resources procured him an unc^xpected supply. Some 
 countrymen, returning from market, stopped to refresh themselves by 
 the way. The Jew amused them with his tricks, and in return 
 thimhle-rifjfjed as many sixpences from the farmers, as enabled him to 
 obtain a lodging in the Cock and Punchbowl for the night. 
 
 Wlien supper was removed, and Mrs. O'Leary had produced the ne- 
 cessary materials for finishing an evening comfortably, at the pressing 
 invitation of her guest she sat down with the youthful travellers. 
 From the first, Mark Antony had found favour in the widov/'s sight, 
 and a more extended acquaintance confirmed the early impression. 
 Towards the girl Mrs. O'Leary evinced a kindly feeling, and proposed 
 that as the house was crowded, the wayfarer should share her bed — 
 an offer, by Miss Julia Montague, gratefully accepted. 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN. 69 
 
 The buxom widow was a fair specimen of an Iri^h hostess ; and had 
 her eyes not been as dark as a blackberry and her complexion a gipsy 
 brown, the old alliteration, " fat, fair, and forty," would have described 
 her to a hair. Her comely countenance was rich with archness and 
 csjneglerie — and in Jack Falstaft^'s vein a lover might have safely wooed 
 her — '' You are merry, so am I. Ha, ha — then there's more S3'mpatliy ! " 
 
 '• In vino Veritas." Hang that musty proverb! "What's wine to 
 whisky punch ? That is, indeed, the opener of the human heart. 
 Love may be escliewed — but who is proof against jjoteeine ? A hot 
 tumbler would undo the caution of a Jesuit, and make a Trappist 
 speak out like a man. Mrs. O'Leary felt the genial influence of 
 mountain dejv agreeably diluted ; and in the brief coUoquy that 
 ensued, there were but few circumstances connected with the Cock and 
 Punchbowl which remained a secret to the fosterer and his wandering 
 friend. 
 
 " Mr. O'Toole — there's an before your name, I b'lieve — you're 
 kindly welcome. Here's ye'r health — and bad luck to ye if I wish it. 
 As I told ye, IMi\ O'Leary — Lord rest his sowl ! — was an ailin' man, 
 and might have been my father. Well, after the cold Christmas he 
 w^ent like snow ofi" a ditch. The Lord sees he had the best of trate- 
 ment in his last days, wid a grand wake and a ginteel funeral. I'm a 
 lone woman three years come Patrick mass — and och I I have had my 
 trouble. A woman's helpless, IMi'. O'Toole, and that ye know. "WeU — 
 blessed be God ! I'm weU to do — owe nobody a rap — and my carakter's 
 at the defiance of the parish. But och I I'm lonely after all ; and a 
 pushin' woman like me requires a man's assistance. Not that I'm over 
 anxious to get married j but if a young man, discreat and well- 
 behaved, would — " 
 
 Here a furious knocking of pewter pots upon the tables underneath 
 interrupted jNIi's. O'Leary's narration, and she made a hasty exit to 
 attend those turbulent customers, with an intimation however 
 that she would return anon, and make a clean breast touching her 
 hymeneal intentions, should " a young man, discreat and well-behaved," 
 present liimself. 
 
 It was quite evident from the hilarious revehy in the kitchen, that 
 the company below had no sin of omission, as far as di-inking went, to 
 answer for. Indeed it was pretty apparent that they were set in for 
 a regidar carouse. The sergeant and his comrades prudently uniting 
 mirth with business, had favoured the countrymen with their company, 
 in the double hope of enjoying a potation, scot-free — and if luck were 
 on their side, crimping a clod-hopper into the bargain. The anti- 
 quated fifer, on his "ear-piercing" instrument had executed "the 
 Groves of Blarney," with a variety of flourishes which elicited a 
 thunder of applause. As to the commander, he was affability itself — 
 spoke of his " feats of broil," and recounted the numerous " battles, 
 sieges, fortunes," through which he had passed, with a vividness of 
 description that made the very hair of the listeners stand on end. 
 Nothing could be more glowing than the narrative, albeit, it was 
 apocryphal entirely ; for during his peaceful life, he, worthy man, had 
 never witnessed a musket snapped in anger. At the request of a 
 
70 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 gentleman, whose solitary stripe announced liim to be still on the lowest 
 step of the ladder of preferment, the sergeant obliged the company 
 with a rigmarole effusion which he was pleased to call a song ; and it 
 is only necessary to say, that the poetry and performance were worthy 
 of each other. 
 
 THE SERGEANT'S SOXG. 
 
 Now, brave boys, -we're bound for mai-chin' 
 Both to Portingale and Spain ; 
 Drums are batin', colours flyin' — 
 And the divil a-back we'll come agam ; 
 So, Love, farewell ! 
 
 The colonel cries, " Boys are ye ready ?" 
 " We're at your back, both firm and steady ; 
 Our pouches filt with balls and powther. 
 And a clane firelock on each shouthcr." 
 Love, farewell ! 
 
 The mother cries, " Boys, do not wrong me ; 
 Ye wouldn't take my daughter from me? 
 K ye do, I will torment yees. 
 And after death my ghost will haunt yees." 
 Love, farewell ! 
 
 Och, Judy, dear! ye'r young and tender — 
 When I'm away, ye'U not surrender; 
 But hould out like an ancient Roman, 
 And I'll make you an honest woman. 
 Love, farewell ! 
 
 Och, Judy ! should I die in glory. 
 In the papers ye'U read my awful story 
 But I'm so bother'd by your charms, 
 I'd rather far die in your arms. 
 
 Och ! Love, farewell ! 
 
 Great was the applause which the sergeant's melody dyew down, 
 and, what was probably even more satisfactory to the honest gentleman, 
 a loud demand arose for a fresh supply of " the raw material ;" and 
 the carouse was vigorously resumed. Left to themselves, the young 
 travellers had talked over their meeting on the mountain, and spoke 
 of their journey to the neighbouring town next day where their road- 
 companionship was to terminate. The intended parting w-as not men- 
 tioned with indifference, for the poor girl sighed heavily, her f\ice became 
 sad, and her eyes filled fast. In a faction fight, where skulls were 
 cracked like walnuts, Mark Antony was every inch a hero — but liis 
 heart was true Milesian, and a woman's sorrow rendered it soft as a 
 turnip. He took the wanderer's hand aftectionately, kissed away the 
 tear that trickled down her cheek, and endeavoured to dispel her 
 melancholy. 
 
 " Cheer up," he said ; " you have happier days before you, and 
 youth enough to wait for them. How can I serve you, Julia? 
 I know an empty pocket makes a heavy heart — but we'll share to the 
 liist shilling — " and quick as lightning a green silk purse tliat I had 
 
HECTOR OHALLOKAX. 71 
 
 given to the fosterer the night we parted, was transferred from 
 liis pocket to the wanderer's hand. " Come, Julia," he continued, 
 '' will I bring you home ?" 
 
 Tlie poor girl shook her head, and gratefully returned the purse. 
 
 '•' Take halt", at least," exclaimed Mai'k Antony ; '' there's only five 
 pounds in notes, and three guineas and a half in gold. May'be it may 
 carry ye to your friends — and if it won't — I'll list, and that will make 
 up the ditference." 
 
 " Friends !" said the girl, bitterly ; '• I have no friends : I lost my 
 mother when an infjmt ; and the cruel desertion of my father broke 
 the old soldier's heai-t. Alas 1 I feel that I am left alone upon the 
 earth, without one being who would care for me." 
 
 " A sister, by Heaven I" cried the fostei-er. " Am I not also a 
 soldier's orphan ?" 
 
 " TMiy, ye thundering villain !" exclaimed 'Mrs. O'Leary, who had 
 stolen softly up stairs, and caught the Jew with his ear at the key -hole, 
 " Off wid ye, ye blackavised disciple. Bad luck attend ye, night an' 
 day, you ugly thief ! Off, I say — " and, suiting the action to the 
 word, she bestowed a heavy buffet upon the countenance of the 
 Israelite that made him in no way desirous of abiding another visita- 
 tion from the widow's fist. " Well, dears I" said the jolly hostess as 
 she bustled into the room : " may'be ye were courtin' a bit, as yoimg 
 people will at times — and think of that black-muzzled ruffin lis'ning to 
 every word ye sed ! I wish he was clane out of the house, for he has 
 the gallows in his face." 
 
 " I wish, indeed," observed the girl, " that he was gone — I dread 
 that man." 
 
 " Arrah I" returned the burly widow, " don't vex ye'rself about him: 
 ye'r safe A\'id me — the devil a toe he'll ventm'e to put near my room. 
 Ye'r tired, avourneein ; and come away to ye'r-bed : and if you, 
 IMr. O'Toole, will jist step down and take an air of the fire below, I'll 
 make ye a shake-down here as the house is crowded to the thatch." 
 
 Mark Antony accordingly bade his companion a good night, and 
 descended to the kitchen, where, by a sort of common consent, the 
 Avhole of the guests had united themselves for a general jollification. 
 Tlie whisky now seemed " uppermost," and most of the party were 
 as it is termed in Ireland '• the worse of liquor ;" but the hilarity was 
 as yet undistm-bed, 
 
 " And all went merry as a marriage bell." 
 
 The worthy sergeant who, like Bardolph, was " white-livered and 
 red-faced," with Pistol's qualification of having " a killing tongue and 
 quiet sword," was evidently the lion of the evening ; and being a 
 romancer of the first magnitude, no man was better suited to fascinate 
 a company who took delight in listening to deeds of arms. He 
 was graciously pleased to reply to the inquiiy of a recruit, who had 
 expressed a strong curiosity touching the personal appearance of 
 Napoleon le grand. Having bolted a dose of alcohol presented to 
 him by a eountryman, and deposited the pewter measure on the table, 
 the commander thus modestly continued : — 
 
72 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " An' so ye would like to know what Bonej's like ? Well, the divil 
 a man ye would meet in a day's walk could tell you that same thing 
 better. He has a regular gunpowder complexion, a look that v/ould 
 frighten a horse, and whiskers you could hang your hat upon. Father 
 Abraham's in the corner there — and 'pon my conscience, honest man, 
 ye would be the better of a barber — are but a joke to them." And 
 he pointed to the Jew. 
 
 " And where did you see him ?" inquired a countryman. 
 
 "Wliere did I see him? AVliere — but in Agj^^t," returned the 
 commander. " Before I was pris'ner five minutes, he sends an aidi- 
 camp hot-foot — well, up I comes— for there Avas no use, you know, 
 resistin'. At first he looked red-pepper at me : ' Corp'lar Mulrooney,' 
 says he — and how the dickens he med my name out, I nivir could 
 larn — ' Mulrooney,' says he, ' for once in ye'r life, tell truth, and 
 shame the divil. — How many thousand strong are ye ?' ' Twenty -five 
 thousand,' says I, strivin' to dacave him. ' Bad luck to the liars !' says 
 he. ' Amen,' says I, just givin' the word back to him. ' Arrah — 
 come,' says he, 'don't be makin' a Judy Fitzsummon's mother of 
 ye'rself, but tell the truth, Mulrooney, and I'll make a man of ye : 
 an' if ye don't' — sw'aring an oath that I now disremimber, because it 
 was in Frinch — ' I'll blow the contents of this pistol thro' your scull,' 
 puUing out one with a barrel like a blunderbuss. "Well, I was 
 rather scared ; but, thinks I, there's nothin' like being bould. ' Fire 
 away,' says I, ' an' put ye'r information in ye'r pocket afterwards ; for 
 it's all ye'll get from me.' Bonypart looked bothered : ' Be gogstay," 
 says he, to the aidicamp, ' that's cliver of the corp'lar. Let him off,' 
 says he ; ' an' if there's a di-ain of spirits in the bottle, give it to him, 
 the crature, for the day's hot.' Wid that, he pulls out a thirty-shillin' 
 note. ' Divil blister the rap I have more, or ye should have it,' says 
 he, shakes me dacently by the han', and sends me clane back. 'Pon 
 me soul ! Boney's not a bad man, after all." 
 
 The sergeant's interview with Napoleon had been listened to with 
 great attention ; and at the production of the pistol of blunderbuss 
 calibre, the recruits actually turned pale. The Israelite alone exhi- 
 bited symptoms of incredulity, but what could be expected from an 
 unbeliever ? As to Mark Antony, he laughed outright ;— however, that 
 was an effect which some of the bloodiest exploits of the gallant ser- 
 geant frequently produced upon his auditory, and accordingly, he, 
 " good easy man," passed it by unnoticed. The symposium promised 
 to terminate in harmony and peace, alas J how delusory that promise 
 proved ! 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN 73 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 FRIEN'DS MUST PART 
 
 ^^ Hostess, — Here's a goodly tumult! — I'll forswear keeping 
 house, afore I'll be in these tirrits and frights. So ; murder, I war- 
 rant now — " Shakspeare. 
 
 " There's a crj and a shout, 
 
 And a deuce of a rout, 
 
 And nobody seems to know what it 's about." 
 
 Thomas Ingoldsbv. 
 
 To judge from external appearances, King George the Third, of 
 blessed memory, never laid out money to less advantage, than when he 
 induced private Ulic Fljm of the gallant twenty-seventh, ycleped the 
 Enniskilleners, to undertake the defence of '• his crown and dignity" for 
 the modest consideration of twelve pounds bounty, and thirteenpence- 
 halfpenny a day. Although the standard then was low, how the devil 
 Mr. Flyn contrived to touch it, remained a mystery. Ulic was barely 
 five feet one, his singular proportions had driven tlu-ee sergeants to 
 desperation, to •'• set him up " was declared to be an impossibility ; 
 he was moreover, too dii-ty for a pioneer, and to what military uses 
 he might return, none could even guess. 
 
 But it was only for a season that his candle remained under a 
 bushel. Certes, honest Ulic, in propria j^^rsona, was no hero ; to 
 bloodshed generally he had an invincible antipathy ; and had '•' the 
 imminent deadly breach " remained unmounted until Mr. Flyn made 
 the essay, it would have been safe for ever. To a higher order of things 
 his talents appertained ; his crimping was magnificent, and the wariest 
 bog-trotter who ever dispensed with shoes, had reason to look sharp 
 if he foregathered with Ulic Flyn over a noggin of whisky, and was 
 not made " food for powder " afterwai'ds. While the sergeant was 
 narrating his inteiwiew with Napoleon, Ulic continued in deep confer- 
 ence with the most intoxicated of the countr}Tnen, and had the unhappy 
 bumpkin known the truth, in the com'se of his life he had never been 
 in such dangerous company before. On one flank, Mr. Flyn waited 
 an opportunity to enlist him, and on the other, Mr. Montague, of 
 comic celebrity, was experimentalizing on his side-pocket. Both were 
 clever in their line, but, as the result proved, of the twain the Jew 
 vras the abler artiste. 
 
 More than one hint had been already given that the pleasantest 
 company must part ; and, as a speedy movement was at hand, IMr. 
 Flyn redoubled his exertions to add to the defenders of the realm, and 
 do the state some service. 
 
 " What a life we lead !" he whispered in the coimtrj-man's ear : 
 ^' Xothing to do from one end of the year to the other, but eat, drink, 
 
74 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 sleep, ami clean a musket !— lots of liberty ! — cro where you like, 
 and—" J ' 
 
 " Get crammed into the black-liole on your return, and be kept at 
 pack-drill with a log upon your leg for a fortnight," responded the 
 Israelite with a grin. 
 
 Mr, Flyn directed a murderous side-look at tlie unbeliever, who 
 appeared determined to render useless all his honourable elForts to 
 uphold the glory of the land ; but still the short gentleman continued 
 to draw a pleasing and veracious picture of military life. 
 
 " Our colonel's such a trump — a gentleman every inch. He dances 
 with the sergeants' wives, calls every man by his right name — Tom, 
 Bill, or Jerry, — and his purse is always in his fingers. ' Ulic,' says 
 he to me, as I passed him in the barrack yard last Friday, ' go, drink 
 my healtli, ye divil, and if you get glorious, why tell the adjutant that 
 I bid ye do so,' and with that he tosses me lialf-a-crown." 
 
 "Lord! what a wopper I" ejaculated the Jew. " ^^Hiy lie's the 
 very terror of the regiment, — orders a man ' a hundi-ed' for sneezing 
 on parade, and flogs regularly twice a week to give the drummers 
 exercise. Take my advice, young man ; be off at once, or that 'ere 
 chap Avill do ye brown." So saying, he closed his left eye, rose, and 
 returned to the fire, under the pretence of lighting his pipe; for having 
 succeeded in drawing out the countryman's money-bag while he gave 
 him good advice, the Jew was anxious to move from the immediate 
 vicinity of the prigged pocket, before the abstraction of its contents 
 should be discovered. The fifer immediately took the vacant seat, 
 Mr. Flyn became more eloquent than ever, but the unbeliever had 
 done the mischief effectually — the bird was scared ; and after an- 
 nouncing that he was " a widow's son," the bumpkin stoutly declared 
 that " he woidd be shot at for nobody." 
 
 The case seemed hopeless ; but Mr. Flyn was not the person to 
 despair. "With affectionate ardour he seized the peasant's hand, swore 
 that from first sight he had loved him like a brother, and consequently 
 that they must have a parting glass. He discovered, unfortunately, 
 that he had no silver ; but the sergeant had enough for all, and he 
 would trouble him to ask him, the sergeant, for a shilling. The re- 
 quest was made and granted ; the polite commander instantly produced 
 the current coin, Ulic Flyn called for another pint, the fifer, under- 
 neath the table, slily attached his OAvn cockade to the dexter side of 
 the cavbeeine of the " widow's son," while the lance corporal tapped 
 him playfully on the shoulder, and hailed him for life a camarado. 
 
 Dark suspicions flashed across the peasant's mind. "WT^iat meaned 
 this wondi'ous civility ? His eye caught that of the Jew — he remem- 
 bered the admonition of the Israelite — and was he " done brown" 
 ah'eady ? Up he sprang, desired his companions to come away, and 
 would have bade the company " a fair good-night," had not a gentle 
 detainer beenlaid on. 
 
 " Sit down, my boy," exclaimed the commander. " Drink like a 
 soldier to-night— and in the morning ye'll have time enough to take 
 lave of y'er relashins." 
 
 " Take lave of my relashins !" returned tlie countryman, as he made 
 
•-* 
 
HECTOR OHALLEllAN. 
 
 a desperate effort to reach the door— an inteution on his part which 
 was promptly prevented; for on one side he was pinioned by the fifer, on 
 the other collared by ]\Ir. Flyn, while the commander talked some- 
 thing about the articles of war, and hinted that mutiny was punishable 
 with death. The countrymen seized the intended hero by one ann, 
 the crimps held on as doggetUy by the other; and as both parties 
 pulled stoutly, it might have been supposed that they intended to 
 partition the victim between them. Pushes were succeeded by blows, 
 — the melcc became general. — Mark Antony joined the soldiers, the 
 Jew sided with the countrymen, four or five couples were actively 
 engaged in the centre of the floor— and divers on both sides, who, either 
 from want of room or inclination had abstained from a personal display, 
 carried on a sort of guerilla warfare, and, acting en tiraiUeur, kept up 
 a lively discharge of turfs and pewter measures, apparently with perfect 
 indifference as to whether the sculls their missiles might invade should 
 prove Tyrian or Trojan. While delivering a murderous blow at his 
 opponent, a recruit, with a sweep of his cudgel, brought down a shelf 
 on which suncb-y specimens of the fine arts had been deposited ; and, 
 in the very act of deprecating hostilities, the commander received an 
 erratic visit from a three-legged stool, wliich destroyed his perpendicular 
 and sent him flying through a cupboard. The boy, small as he was, 
 did not escape— he was driven through his own drum-head ; and that 
 stii-ring instrument of war was silenced most effectually. 
 But battles have their limit— men cannot fight for ever, 
 
 " The hottest steed will soonest cool ; — 
 The fiercest day -with evening closes." — 
 
 Irish rows end as quickly as they commence, and the rooJiawn iu 
 the Cock and Punch-bowl at last began to languish. Sundry who 
 had already figured in the fray, now cried " hold ! enough !"— and 
 others who had saluted their mother earth still remained there recum- 
 bent, opining that under existing circumstances, this position was the 
 safer. Two combatants however, stiU remained unsatisfied. They 
 had sought each other in the conflict ; and now, by a sort of general 
 consent, the floor was abandoned by all the other belligerents, and like 
 bulls in a china shop, the fosterer and the Israelite were left with the 
 arena lo themselves. 
 
 Both were influenced by a deep feeling of personal hostility. The 
 Jew hated (as Jews only know how to hate) because he had been 
 rivalled and rejected. The fosterer, more than half in love, abhorred 
 the Israelite for imagining aught that was injurious against the cantatrice 
 who had elected him her knight ; and further, from a pre-knowledge of 
 Mr. Montague's pugilistic accomplishments, Mark Antony was dying 
 for an opportunity to ascertain whether his own talents in that line 
 had not been rather overrated, forgetting that in his own country no 
 man is accounted above his value — be they pugihsts or prophets. 
 
 _ But the men were matched unequally ; and consequently, the con- 
 flict was soon ended. In years the Jew was stale, and in heart a very 
 coward — while with length and activity, the fosterer was fresh as a four- 
 year-old and bold as a tiger. The " master of fence" proved not worth 
 
76 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " a dish of stcwctl prunes ;" — he turned out nothing but a cur, and 
 the desperate onsUiiight of the fosterer at onee demolished his defensive 
 system. Thejinale was sudden: in a few seconds the unbeliever lay 
 stretched upoii the floor of the Cock and Punch-bowl, and, to all 
 appearance, defunct as Julius Caesar. Heaven help hiiu ! The chances 
 against the circumcised sinner were desperate all through. 
 
 Mrs. O'Leary was malcing a radical change in her toilet when she 
 heard the alarm, and before she was ready for battle, the battle was 
 over. Down she sallied like a Bacchante. Alas ! it was only to see 
 a defeated Isi-aelite on the floor, and witness a demolition of property, 
 the value of which was, like pearls, above price. 
 
 '• Oh, heavenly Antony !" she exclaimed, and clapped her hands 
 wildly together, " if ivir I underAvint such ruination since I was a 
 girl. A man kilt in the house, and the image of my brother Dick 
 that came from Philadelphy, all in smithereens !" and she picked up 
 fragments of plaster of Paris which once had formed " a busto framed 
 with every grace." " There's the Queen of Sheba on ther broad of her 
 back upon the floor, and the diAil a morsel of the Prodigal Son left, good 
 nor bad." She cast her eyes doubtfully around her, " Holy Bridget !" 
 she continued, " why the door of the clock-case is in two halves ! 
 Murder ! murder !— was ivir a lone woman brought to sich desalashin, 
 and all done while ye could say Jack Robison ! Arrali ! what set ye 
 a fightin', wid plenty of liquor, and ye singin' like blackbirds when I 
 left ye. May the widda's curse fall on them, night and day, that caused 
 the skrimraage !" Then turning to the fosterer, she inquired if he had 
 been wounded in the affray, and with a marked anxiety Mrs. O'Leary 
 investigated the outer man of IMark Antony. Perceiving, however, 
 that he was personally undamaged, she continued her inquiries as to 
 the origin of what she called the ruchhin, intending no doubt to 
 amerce the offender heavily for the losses she had sustained. Mani- 
 fold were the causes alleged ; but all, and by common consent, laid the 
 blame on Mr. Montague. He was a Jew, therefore no allegation 
 against him could be too bad. He was dead, and consequently he 
 could deny nothing. Accordingly, the dowufal of the Queen of 
 Sheba, the demolition of my brother Dick, and the destruction of the 
 Prodigal Son, all and every were placed to the account of the defunct, 
 and cai-ried in the affirmative, nem'me contradkente. 
 
 But Mr. Montague was not dead. Like greater men, finding that 
 the current of popular opinion had turned against him, he decided that 
 nothing professional could be effected by a longer sojourn at the Cock 
 and Punch-bowl, and that the sooner he abdicated the better. Accord- 
 ingly while a noisy reconciliation was being efiected, Mr. Montague 
 " cut his lucky," the belligerents returned to the table, — in a deep 
 " doch a durris" all animosity was extinguished, and the whole 
 separated as a christian company should part, having in due course, 
 and after the fashion of that pleasant country, drank, fought, com- 
 mitted murder, and sworn an eternal friendship afterwards. 
 
 Morning came, and the liostlerie of Mrs. O'Leary at cock-crow was 
 in a bustle. The fosterer and his fair companion preparing for the 
 road, and the sergeant, with his charge of foot, girding up their loins 
 
HECTOK OHALLORAX. 77 
 
 to proceed to Cahirmore. All however seemed in melancholy mood ; 
 some laying it upon love, while others left it upon liquor, Mark 
 Antony was regularly bothered ; and the actress, poor girl, sadly cast 
 down at the immediate prospect of pai'ting from one, who had proved 
 liimself a kind and generous protector. Nor had the jolly hostess 
 escaped a visitation of the heart. What, though for three years 
 she had eschewed aU overtures to revisit the temple of Hymen, and 
 rejected more suitors than Penelope, stiU the widow was flesh and 
 blood like other people ; and satisfied that in the person of Mark 
 Antony O'Toole the cardinal virtues vrere united, she was ready for 
 matrimony on demand, and prepared on the first summons to sur- 
 render the Cock and Punch-bowl — of course on honourable terms. 
 
 All these visitations were of the sentimenal order ; but those sus- 
 tained by the men of war were unhappily corporeal. It is true that 
 the sergeant had a thick skuU, but what chances have sktdls with cup- 
 boards ? and in the recent collision the skull of the commander was 
 damaged gri(^vously ; the fifer's mouth was totally destroyed by a flush 
 hit ; each of the recruits had been favoured with a black eye ; and, 
 even to the diminutive di'ummer, none passed the ordeal unscathed. 
 
 Somebody, — I think Shenstone, — after insinuating that he had 
 travelled " earth's dull round," declares that " the warmest welcome's 
 in an inn." "Well, that may be the case ; but the wayfarer cunningly 
 passes over that brief but painful moment when the beU is gently 
 touched, and a bill reluctantly requested with aU the indifference 
 a man in such circumstances can assume. That unlucky period had 
 arrived. The sergeant inquired " what was to pay ?" and the hostess 
 responded, by producing a huge slate, and pointing to a long array of 
 figures scored to the debit of the commander. At the sight of this, the 
 countenance of the worthy man underwent a striking elongation ; and 
 he who beneath the withering glance of the conqueror of Lodi had 
 not blanched, became pale as a ghost while he gazed on the hierogly- 
 phics of the lady of the Cock and Punch-bowl. The commander shook 
 his head, and the shal^e was significant ; while the fifer stoutly 
 affirmed that the whole of the nocturnal symposium had been charged 
 against the protectors of the realm. 
 
 " Arrah, what balderdash !" exclaimed the hostess ; " don't ye see 
 four and eightpence agin the Carneys, wid a cross upon it, because it 's 
 ped ? Mr. O'Toole goes free ; and there's fairly against ye all, two 
 and fourpence for ating, and eleven and ninepence for the drink." 
 
 But the charge of foot, even fi'om the di-um-boy to the commander, 
 persisted in protestations of incredulity ; and Mrs. O'Leary, irritated 
 that the accuracy of her reckoning should be doubted, gave indications 
 of a " flare-up" which might have brought about another general 
 engagement. 
 
 " Bad luck attend yes for a set of thieves ! Wasn't it enough for ye 
 to tatter my consarn, without bilkin me of my bill ?" 
 
 In Ireland, questions are answered by interrogatories ; and if you 
 ask the way to a place, the reply wiU probably be an inquiry as to 
 whether you '• met a donkey on the road, or noticed a blind woman 
 with twins upon her back ?" 
 
78 THE FORTUNES CF 
 
 '•' Who tattered y'er consarn ?" resjionded the sergeant. 
 
 " Who knocked the fire out of my eye wid a clod of turf as hard as 
 a paving stone ?" inquired a recruit. 
 
 " Who druv me thro' the drum-head ?" screamed the boy. 
 
 '' Who split my lip ?" demanded the fifer. 
 
 " Don't be bothering me about y'er drums and y'er misfortins !" 
 replied the hostess, cold to the losses thus sustained in person and 
 property by her unhappy visitors; "but for once in y'er lives, be 
 honest, and down wid the reckoning." 
 
 The sergeant saw that it was idle to remonstrate, and he produced 
 a one-pound note, called for a pint of whisky, received it and the 
 change, bolted liis " morning" — an example duly followed by all, even 
 to the drummer ; and, accompanied by his gallant following, wended 
 his way in sadness and silence towards the Pattern of Cahirmore. For 
 once, miUtary pomp and pride were dispensed with, — the fife was 
 mute, the drum beat no point of war, and the commander and his 
 charge of foot stole off as modestly from the hostelric, iis if instead 
 of being engaged over-night in pointing out the path of glory to the 
 Carneys, they had picked pockets like the Jew, or robbed the widow's 
 hen-roost. 
 
 The parting between the men of war and the lady of the Cock and 
 Punch-bowl was not accompanied with any ebullition of " sweet 
 sorrow" upon either side, the commander hinting that it was his 
 intention to transfer his patronage to the Cat and Bagpipes for the 
 future ; and the hostess declaring, that " the loss was small, and were 
 he better they were welcome to him." But a tenderer trial was at 
 hand ; and when Mark Antony and the f\ur cantatrice announced that 
 they were about to take the road, the widow's grief burst forth. 
 
 " Arrah, stay I" she said. '• Rest yourselves for a day or two 
 longer. Well, ye won't. Put up y'er purse, astore. Is it for me to charge 
 craters of y'er sort for a trifle of entertainment ? Sorrow rap I'd take 
 if ye stay'd here a twelvemonth. Tlie world's wide; and many a 
 straggler finds it hard to get across it. Well, jewel ! if you stick fast, 
 as many a man has done before ye, turn back to the widow's home, 
 and here's y'er ceade fcaltcagh* waiting for ye. When ye Avant it, ye'll 
 find something in the basket," and she placed a small one in the 
 fosterer's hand. " And now, as y'er for goin, may the Lord protect 
 ye. both !" Mrs. O'Leary wiped a tear away with the corner of her 
 apron, kissed the pale girl affectionately, while the smack she gave 
 ]\Iark Antony might have been heard distinctly across the road. Next 
 moment the waj-farers vrere over the hospitable threshold, and " the 
 world was all before them where to choose." 
 
 The sky was clear, the country had become picturesque, the 
 birds sang merrily, the road was sprinkled by an early shower, 
 and on a pleasanter morning a light-bosomed traveller never wended 
 on his way. Alas ! — 
 
 " The merry heart goes all the day. 
 But the sad one tires in a mile a;" 
 
 * Anglicc — a icarm welcome. 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAX. 79 
 
 and before half the jouruej was completed, the girl showed symptoms 
 of fatigue. 
 
 " You are weary, Julia," said the fosterer; '' sit down, avourneein. 
 In yonder corner there is a shady bank, and a stream too ; ay, and with 
 water blue and sparkling as your own soft eyes. Come, deai'est." 
 
 The pale girl looked steadily and suspiciously at her companion ; 
 but one glance dispelled her fears, Tlie face she scrutinized Avas 
 honest ; and without hesitation, she quitted the high road, and seated 
 lierself on a fallen tree in the sheltered glade to which Mark Antony 
 had pointed. Well, — she might do so safely. In grain, the 
 fosterer was a gentleman ; and, for a queen's ransom, he would not 
 have abused confidence placed in his honour, or have imagined aught 
 that was evil against a woman whose helplessness called upon him for 
 protection. He flung himself at her feet upon the sward, and opening 
 the widow's basket, produced a chicken, some oaten cakes, and a 
 cruiskeeine of native whisky. The fowl was speedily dismembered ; 
 the contents of the flask diluted with the clear cold water of the 
 rivulet ; and, Avith kindly warmth, her companion urged the wanderer 
 to refresh herself. But, poor giid ! her heart was full. She gently 
 put aside the food presented to her ; tears fell fast, and hiding her 
 face between her hands, she seemed to give way to some secret sorrow, 
 too deep, too poignant for concealment. 
 
 The fosterer, but in vain, endeavoured to cheer her sinking spirits. 
 The cruiskeeine was laid down untasted ; and while with youth's 
 ardent eloquence, Mark Antony pointed to happiness in the distance, 
 the deep sobs of his companion told that from her bosom that hope 
 which cheers the darkest hour of life, was long departed. 
 
 "Come, come, Julia," he said, pressing her hand in his, ''why mil 
 you be so down-hearted ?" 
 
 The poor girl raised her eyes. She did not reply ; but her look 
 betrayed the agony of the heart, and its sad and silent expression had 
 '■ the calmness of settled despair." 
 
 " And have you been very — very unfortunate, Julia ?" pursued the 
 fosterer. 
 
 The wanderer mournfully shook her head. 
 
 " And left home, and friends, and — " 
 
 '•' Father !" exclaimed the girl, wildly, Avith a maniac's suddenness. 
 
 *' "Were you decoyed away by a villain ? 
 
 " He who wrecked my peace is in the grave. May Heaven pardon 
 him as sincerely as I wish it ! " 
 
 Probably under the promise of marriage ?" said the fosterer, with 
 the hesitation that a man feels who asks a question Avhich possibly m.ay 
 cause pain or give oflence. 
 
 ^^ The promise r^ exclaimed the girl, while her pale cheeks flushed, 
 and her eye lightened as if repelling a derogatory insinuation. " No, 
 no ; it was indeed a sad reality, although the act was villanous ;" and 
 putting her hand into her bosom, she drew forth a wedding-ring, 
 secured by a black ribbon. " There is the token that I was a lawful 
 wife ; and there, also, a memorial that I was a — " She paused. 
 
 " What ?" exclaimed the fosterer. 
 
8;) THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " A wortliless daughter. Worthless ! worse far ; — a parricide ! 
 Yes, yes ; I murdered him. My misconduct broke his heart. My 
 ingratitude quenched his broken spirit. I did not drug him to death ; 
 but I poisoned his happiness, and sent him to the grave. Am I not, 
 then, a murderess ?" 
 
 She flung herself wildly upon the fallen tree, and sobbed convul- 
 sively. 
 
 " Be calm ;" said Mark Antony, pressing her hand ; '"' I have given 
 you pain ; but Heaven knows I would not, if — " 
 
 " No, no," exclaimed the girl, " you meant no hai'm ; but where 
 guilt abides, the conscience takes alarm. For a sad, sad, twelvemonth 
 your's is the only heart that has warmed to me ; your's the only car to 
 which I would confide my story. Hear me ; and then say whether 
 the crime or the retribution has been the greater. I am cahn ; but 
 it seems to me a melancholy pleasure to disclose to a being who will 
 sympathize, how much I have sinned, and how much I have suffered." 
 
 She rose, — walked a few paces to a rock from which the mountain 
 streamlet dropped into a basin which itself had formed : and having 
 bathed her aching temples in the water, returned,, and, to a most 
 attentive listener, she thus detailed her history. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE STORY OF THE WANDERING ACTRESS 
 
 "What will not -woman, when she loves? — 
 Yet lost, alas ! who can restore her ? 
 
 She lifts the latch — the wicket moves — 
 And now the world is all before her.'' 
 
 ROGEKS. 
 
 I v.'AS born in a village on the coast of Sussex. My father, after 
 five-and-twenty years' service, had retired from the army on a pension, 
 •with a small sum of money he had saved while acting in the West 
 Indies as a quarter-master ; and settling in his native village, he 
 married the orphan daughter of a clergyman. The union was happy ; 
 and the evening of an adventurous life promised to wear quietly 
 away. But, like all mortal expectations, my father's dream of happi- 
 ness proved unreal, for my mother died in giving birth to me, leaving 
 another child behind her, a boy, two years older than myself. My 
 parents were warmly attached to each other, and the old soldier felt his 
 bereavement acutely ; but he bore up against his visitation like a man, 
 and endeavoured by a devoted attachment to the living, to show how 
 fondly he regarded the memory of the dead. 
 
 Indeed, it was little wonder that in my brother and myself, the 
 widower should centre his affections. No relative of my mother was 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN. 81 
 
 alive ; and the only kinsman of my fiither was a half-brother, a dozen 
 years older than himself; a man in every way unamiable. 
 
 Josiah Rawlings was the village lawyer ; a being without a heart, 
 or such a heart as is untouched by the widow's agony, unmoved by 
 the orphan's tears. He was mean, soi-did, and vindictive ; had realized 
 much wealth ; but on that ill-acquired money, the bitter curses of 
 many a ruined family were entailed. 
 
 Josiah's appearance was very remarkable. As far as respected 
 height, he was tall enough for a grenadier, and in his fleshy pro- 
 portions, light enough for a jockey. His hollow cheek and small grey 
 eyes were in good keeping with his gaunt and bony figure ; and 
 at a look the stranger would set him down a knave, a miser, or a 
 union of both. 
 
 Never were two persons more opposite in disposition than the 
 brothers. The lawyer listened without emotion to a tale of sorrow — 
 human suftering was a matter of indiUerence to him; while the 
 soldier's heart was as open as his honest countenance, and his purse 
 answered the appeal of poverty to the fullest extent of his means. 
 Unrelieved, no beggar left his door ; and when a comrade came that 
 way, then indeed the latted calf was killed, — for with him my father 
 would have shared his last flask, a}-, and his last shilling. 
 
 Years passed away. My sixteenth summer came. My father still 
 remained a widowei- ; and no home from which its chief comfort had 
 been taken, could be happier than our cottage was. Time had softened 
 the sorrow which my mother's death had caused ; and while the old 
 soldier often alluded to liis loss, he blessed Heaven that my brother 
 and myself had been spared to be the stay and comfort of life's 
 winter. Alas ! he little di-eamed that by both he would be deserted ; 
 and under circumstances which would render his bereavement addi- 
 tionally distressing. 
 
 It was late in October. The few visitors who, during the bathing 
 season, made the village a temporary abode, had taken their departure. 
 The hamlet was left to its retirement — and our quiet course of life 
 was unvaried, except by incidents of the humblest character. The 
 soldier's kind and charitable disposition had long endeared him to the 
 neighbourhood; and where he went, the prayer of the poor man 
 followed. With the lawyer, avarice and years kept pace — "none cried, 
 God bless him ;" for on a simple community a more detested indi- 
 vidual never was inflicted, than my evil relative, Josiah Kawlings. ' 
 
 I grew apace; men called me handsome — and young as 1 wa.^, 
 more than one suitor had told his tale of humble love. But my heart 
 had never yet been touched ; my breast was free from care ; and with, 
 me, as yet, sorrow was only known by name. 
 
 My brother had just completed his eighteenth year ; and a finer lad 
 was never the pride and envy of a village. He was tall, handsome, 
 and athletic. Among the prettiest girls, William was the object of 
 rustic rivalry ; and in every manly exercise, the men admitted him to 
 be their superior. And then he was so good-natured and so fearless ! — 
 at one moment fondling some playful infant in his arms ; at anoth.er, 
 when the elements were in their wildest uproar, and the sea broke in 
 
 G 
 
82 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 tliuiider on the beach, he would be seen launching the life-boat through 
 a boiling surf, to save some drowning mariner, although to all but the 
 daring spirits who accompanied him, the effort seemed to be equally 
 perilous and unavailing. 
 
 Few days passed over without some acquaintance calling at the 
 cottage ; and all were welcome but one — our uncle. The lawyer's 
 visits were unfrequent. He never came excepting when he was the 
 bearer of some evil news, or the retailer of some country scandal. If 
 an honest villager was struck with poverty, Josiah Rawlings narrated 
 the misfortune, and always imputed what had occurred to some mis- 
 conduct of the sufferer. If calumny breathed upon a woman's fame, 
 the lawyer painted her offending in its blackest colours, and perverted 
 facts to give the rumour contirmation. "Whenever Josiah entered, 
 the peace and quiet of our happy home were broken. On no one 
 point could my father and my uncle agree. While they were together, 
 the time was passed in captious argument ; and their parting was 
 frequently in anger. 
 
 One autumn evening the noise of a passing vehicle brought me to 
 the window, and I saw a carriage pull up at the Rose and Crown. 
 My uncle had been about to inflict one of his unwelcome visits on 
 his brother ; but he stopped in the street, peering after the post-chaise, 
 until he saw the passenger alight and enter the inn. The commonest 
 occurrences never failed to excite his curiosity ; and in a village 
 where a stranger was rarely seen, the arrival of one who travelled 
 post, was indeed an event that caused a general sensation. 
 
 " I wonder who that chap is who put up at Jobson's. All I 
 could make out was that he was wrapped up in a blue cloak, and wore 
 a cap with a gold band and tassel. I wish I knew his name, and 
 what his business is ;" and the lawyer having settled himself upon a 
 chair, took hold of the Geneva bottle, and proceeded to compound his 
 punch. " You heard," he continued, " that the Hotham bank failed 
 yesterday ? Smith, the grocer, round the corner, had a hundi-ed in 
 their notes. He 's ruined ! — serve him right. What business had he 
 to talce them ?" 
 
 " May Heaven comfort him, poor feUow I" ejaculated the quarter- 
 master. *' More is the pity that misfortune should light upon an 
 honest and industrious man, with a young family to support, and his wife 
 dying of consumption. From the bottom of my heart I pity him." 
 
 " That's a nice business of Patty Meadows's, too. I always foretold 
 what would happen." 
 
 " It's a villanous fabrication I" exclaimed my father, passionately ; 
 " I don't believe a syllable of the story." 
 
 " AU true," returned the lawyer, " aU true. Last Saturday evening, 
 George Gripe, my clerk, heard the squire's voice as he passed the 
 garden ; so he clapped his ear close to the fence, and — " 
 
 " I wish to Heaven it had been nailed against tlie paling," said the 
 soldier ; " the sneaking eaves-dropping scoundi-el ! Were I to catch him 
 skulking about my house, I would break every rib in his carcase." 
 
 " Ay, and render yourself liable to an action. Gripp would get 
 sweeping damages." 
 
HECTOR HALLORAN. 83 
 
 " Curse your damages !" returned the quarter-master. " Every 
 body wonders that you employ a rutHan who swears black or white as 
 bidden, and swtillows oaths as he would bolt poached eggs." 
 
 " I keep him," said the lawyer, coolly, " because he 's useful. What 
 capital stuff that Hollands is ? Does Bill run it ?" 
 
 " Run it ! What— smuggle ?" 
 
 " Ay, to be sure," returned my worthy uncle. " I hear he's the 
 boldest boatman on the coast ; and they tell me that he saved the ship- 
 wrecked Dutchman, when all had given him up as lest." 
 
 " It is one thing," replied the soldier, proudly, " to rescue a drown- 
 ing man ; — to rob the revenue, another. My son is no smuggler, 
 Josh ; nor ever will be one." 
 
 " More fool he, then ; there's money to be made that way, and nothing 
 to be got by the other, but bruised bones and a drenched jacket." 
 
 " IS^othing gotten !" exclaimed the honest quarter-master. " Is the 
 grateful outbreaking of the heart of her to whom my boy's gallantry 
 has restored a husband— or the prayer of lisping childhood for him 
 who saved a father,— are these nothing ? Wliat is money acquired by 
 dishonesty, to these ?" 
 
 The lawyer grinned sarcastically. " Tears and gratitude !" he re- 
 peated. " Will tears and gratitude pay rent ? — will tears and grati- 
 tude pay taxes ? You 're a fool, Dick. I would rather have a live-pound 
 note than the united prayers of the parish." 
 
 " I believe you," replied the soldier. 
 
 " And so you may," returned the miser. " But for your own folly 
 you might have made a fortune, and be now as wealthy as myself." 
 
 " Heaven forbid I were, Josh ! if by the same means." 
 
 " And wherefore ?" inquired the lawyer, with a bitter smile. 
 
 "Why," said the soldier, coolly, "just because when Death tapped 
 at the dooi", I should feel rather uncomfortable at the visit." 
 
 " Don't talli of Death ; I hate to hear him mentioned." 
 
 " And I speak only of an old acquaintance. Like friends, we have 
 often looked each other in the face. He passed me by ; and when he 
 calls in form — " 
 
 " Pshaw !" said the lawyer, " have done ; I hate prosing over an 
 unpleasant subject. ^Yliat has your daring done for you ? For one 
 guinea you can show, I can count down a score." 
 
 " Yes," said the quarter-master, proudly, " mine are few in number, 
 but they are worth yours, twice told." 
 
 " I should like to hear the reason," said my uncle. 
 
 " 'Tis simple," returned my father. " On every coin I'm owner of, 
 I can look full-front and say, ' Have I not earned you honestly ?' But 
 yours, Josh ; if widows' sighs and orphans' tears alloyed the metal, 
 d — n me," — the quarter-master swore as they formerly swore in 
 Flanders, — " nineteen out of every twenty you possess would be 
 declared regular raps, and nailed to the counter." 
 
 " Pish !" said the lawyer, testily. " You have hved a fool, and will 
 die a fool." 
 
 " I have lived," said the quarter-master, calmly, " an honest man ; 
 and I'll die a stout one, too. AVhen the order comes, it shall be wil- 
 
 g2 
 
84 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 lingly obeyed. Mine, Josh, shall not be a felon's hardihood, but the 
 humble dependency of one who believes that mei'cy is great, and faults 
 will be forgiven. Now, Josh, were old bare-bones at your elbow" — 
 " Confound such nonsense !" cried the lawyer, pushing his unfinished 
 glass away, and catching up his hat hastily. As he crossed the 
 threshold, his murmurings were any thing but prayers ; and when the 
 door closed, peace seemed to return again, and aU of us felt that " some- 
 thing wicked" had departed. 
 
 Next morning, my father went out according to his custom, and he 
 - was absent longer than usual. "\Mien he returned, it was announced 
 that he had formed an acquaintance with the stranger, whose advent 
 had not only roused my uncle's curiosity, but created a general 
 sensation throughout the hamlet. My father informed us, that his 
 young friend was a heutenant in a light dragoon regiment ; his name, 
 SejTnour ; his connexions,tnoble ; and, more important still, that he, 
 the quarter-master, had asked him to dinner, and that the invitation 
 was freely accepted. 
 
 At the appointed hour the stranger came. His appearance was very 
 prepossessing, — his manners those of a man who had moved in good 
 society ; — and there was, besides, au easiness in his address that 
 dispelled my timidity, and placed us on terms of intimacy at once. 
 That evening, the foimdation of an ill-omened attaclmient was laid. 
 Seymour had established himself in the good opinions of my father 
 and myself; and no one was better able to turn a flwourable impression 
 to advantage. 
 
 Breakfast had scarcely ended on the morrow, when my uncle 
 dropped in. He was dj-ing to be informed of every particular we had 
 learned concerning the stranger ; and, unluckily, our scanty stock of 
 information was anything but satisfactory. 
 
 '• VHij, hang it I" said Josiah Eawlings, '•' have you given that chap 
 dinner and drink, and made out notliing in return for the outlay, but 
 that he calls himself Seymour, and says that he's a dragoon ? I don't 
 believe either story." 
 
 " You don't ?" 
 
 " Not one syllable," said the lawyer. 
 
 " And why ?" returned my father. 
 
 " Because," responded Josiali, " it's very easy to tell a lie ; and 
 sometimes, also, veiy convenient." 
 
 " Pshaw ! nonsense," said the quarter-master. 
 
 " And wherefore," pursued the lawyer, " do you believe the feUow's 
 what he says he is ?" 
 
 " First, because his language and manners are those of a gentleman ; 
 and secondly, because he has the air and carriage of a soldier." 
 
 " I could come nearer to the mai'k," returned Josiah, with a grin. 
 
 " Could you? Well, then, what do ?/o« suppose the stranger is?" 
 
 The lawyer looked suspiciously around him ; and, then, in a lowered 
 voice, slowly replied, " A highwayman." 
 
 My father burst into a roar of laughter. 
 
 " Ay, you may laugh," observed Josiah, '• but I am not far astrav, 
 for all that. Bless you I trust nothing to appearances. I have known 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 85 
 
 a footpad pass current for a lord ; and, for two reasons, I know I'm 
 right about that chap at the Rose and Crown." 
 
 " And what may these reasons be ?" asked the quarter-master. 
 
 " First," replied the lawyer. " he has plenty of money ; and second, 
 he has no marks upon his linen. It 's stolen, you may depend upon it, 
 and the initials carefully picked out." 
 
 " And how the devil can you know any thing regarding either the 
 contents of his purse or his baggage ?" 
 
 " Ha, ha ! leave me to scent out things. I made George Gripp 
 bribe the chambermaid. It cost me two pints of ale and a shilling ; 
 but she let the cat out of the bag. They'll try his portmanteau to- 
 morrow morning, when he goes to the Cliff's. George thinks he has a 
 key at home that will lit the lock exactly." 
 
 My father sprang from his chair. 
 
 " Josh," he exclaimed, " I have always despised, but never hated 
 you till now. Is there no blush upon your cheek ? Look, man, mine 
 is burning ! By Heaven ! I'll mar your villany. The stranger shall 
 know all ; and if that caitiff' ventures — " 
 
 When the lawyer noticed the unusual warmth of my father, he grew 
 pale. " Softly, softly," he said, " you are so vreak, Dick, You over- 
 dose one with that silliness w^hich you call honesty. I was but half 
 jesting. Why should I bother myself about the fellow ? But — look 
 to that young lady there !" and with a malignant side-glance at my 
 fiither and myself, he shuffled through the door-way, muttering and 
 cursing, as was his wont. 
 
 "Wliatever the stranger's secret might have been, it remained at that 
 time undiscovered. In person, he received his letters at the post- 
 office ; and as the patent lock with which his portmanteau was secured 
 resisted all attempts to open it, at the end of a fortnight, the 
 chambermaid might have been a sadder but not a wiser woman. 
 
 Another year came round ; I ripened into womanhood, and early 
 promises of beauty were confirmed. The stranger appeared again, but 
 his coming now was not so startling in effect as formerly. For six 
 months after his departure, Josiah Eawdings had carefully perused the 
 " Hue and Cry," but found that no highwayman answered the de- 
 scription. Now, mercifully abandoning his charge of felony, the lawyer 
 opined that the stranger had merely bolted from his creditors. He 
 might have also passed the interval in jail ; if so, a change of air would 
 be both useful and agreeable. And thus, Josiali accounted as he 
 thought satisfactorily for Seymour's re-appeai-ance. 
 
 Our intimacy was renewed. The flattering praises bestowed upon 
 me as a girl, were changed into declarations of passionate attachment ; 
 and I returned his love. 
 
 It was the eventful period of my life — my bi'other w\as absent, 
 and the quarter-master occupied generally wdth friends at home, 
 or in the arrangement of some village differences. Hence the 
 intimacy of Seymour and myself was unrestricted ; and in a short 
 time he obtained over my young affections a complete ascendancy. 
 And yet our course of love, even from the beginning, did not run 
 smooth. Our relative positions in society were far removed : I, the 
 
86 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 daughter of an humble soldier — he, the younger son of a fiunily old* 
 as the Conquest, and high and haughty even beyond what their 
 ancient lineage would warrant. Could it be expected by me that they 
 would approve of their kinsman's choice, and receive a relative with 
 neither birth nor fortune to recommend her, and whose sole possession 
 was a blameless reputation and an honest name ? Sejanour himself, 
 undesignedly, betraj'ed a similai- uneasiness, hinting that it might be 
 advisable to break the matter by degrees, and cautiously prepare his 
 family for the disclosure. To etfect this important object, a secret 
 marriage would be necessary. His interests must be dear to me as to 
 himself. It was a proof of my confidence in him that circumstances 
 demanded, — and one, if given, that would bind liim to me for ever. 
 
 " TTliat will not woman when she loves ?" Woidd not a village 
 girl, influenced by a first passion, listen favourably to a suitor's 
 pleading, and consult the heart rather than the judgment ? For me 
 Seymour had forsaken rank a:id wealth, and perilled the displeasure 
 of his family ; and should I not, in return, sacrifice largely where his 
 interests were involved ? Love's sophistry was unanswerable. I gave 
 a timid consent, — we were united in another pari.-h ; and so well had 
 arrangements been made to ensure concealment, that, with the ex- 
 ception of one chosen friend, to all besides our marriage remained a 
 secret. 
 
 Of this occm'rence my father had not the most remote suspicion ; 
 and William's absence from home gave us facilities for frequent 
 meetings that could not otherwise have happened. For a fortnight, 
 Seymour continued a nominal lodger at the Eose and Crown, — but 
 most of his time was passed in my society. At my father's table he 
 had a constant place, while the honest quarter-master little di-eamed 
 that in his high-born guest he might have claimed a son-in-law. 
 
 The hour of soitow was at hand. Letters, — most unwelcome ones, — 
 were received. My husband seemed heavily depressed ; and when 
 urged to tell the cause of his uneasiness, mentioned that he had been 
 suddenly recalled to join his regiment, and apprised me that the term 
 of his absence was dependent upon some military movements ; and 
 consequently, that his return must be uncertain. This unexpected 
 separation caused me the first real sorrow I had yet endured ; and, 
 alas ! harbingered too iiiithfuUy, the misery and misfortunes %vhich 
 followed in quick succession. 
 
 L^pon the head of my iU-starred parent, it was fated that the phial 
 of wrath should be poured ; and, sadder stiU, the first blow that smote 
 him, came from the hand of one who would have laid down life to 
 avert an hour of suffering from a father he loved so tenderly. 
 
 My brother returned ; the quai'ter-master had shaken him by the 
 hand, — I, pressed him to my heart, — and our cottage once more looked 
 what it had ever been — the abiding place of peace and joy. As 
 evening closed, William stroUed to his tavourite haunt, the clitfs ; my 
 father pidled in his easy chair, lighted his pipe, and settled himself in 
 humble luxury beside a well-ti'immed fire. 
 
 I retired to my own room. IVIine were indeed melancholy musings. 
 I recalled to memory how brief the period of my wedded haj)piness 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN. 87 
 
 had been, and sighed to think that in the story of a human life, bliss 
 and misery shoidd be so intimately blended. But I was young, and 
 " gay hope by fancy fed" wliispercd that there was happiness in store. 
 I rallied my spirits, — wiped every trace of sorrow from my cheek, — 
 and, in iniother hour, was seated opposite my dear father, and plying 
 my needle as demurely as if I had never listened to a light dragoon, 
 nor given my hand and heart irrevocably away, and sealed that im- 
 prudence by a secret ceremony. 
 
 A footstep approached the cottage, — the latch was lifted, — and the 
 slender figure of the lawyer filled the door-way. 
 
 " You are not busy, Dick ?" croaked my uncle Josiah. 
 
 " Only with my pipe," replied my father. 
 
 " Then I'll sit down a little, and take a drop of your Geneva." 
 
 I rose, — handed my uncle a chair, — Josiali took off his hat, and 
 seated himself The lawyer having mixed his grog, I resumed my 
 needle-work. Since Seymour had left, never had my heart felt lighter 
 than tt did that evening ; but from the moment my dreaded uncle 
 announced himself, a weight seemed pressing on my bosom ; for every 
 time he spoke, like a serpent's breath, Josiah's words seemed to 
 wither the happiness of all who heard them. 
 
 " I wonder," said he, " Avhere that fellow you were so fond of 
 went to ?" 
 
 " What fellow ?" replied the quarter-master, drily. 
 
 " Why, Seymour, as he called himself." 
 
 " I can make you happy on that head. Lieutenant Seymour has 
 
 gone to Give me another light, Julia. Pipes now-a-days, are not 
 
 what they used to be." 
 
 " But, where did Seymour go to ?" 
 
 " Go to ?" and the quarter-master gave a puff. " His regiment, I 
 suppose." 
 
 " "Wliatever news his last letters brought, egad !" said Josiah, " it 
 regularly upset him. Mrs. Manby told me privately, that he turned 
 pale when he read them ; and he must have been confoundedly asto- 
 nished, for he left the change out of half-a-crown upon the counter. 
 I wonder what it will turn out to be ? I think it wiU be debt ; but 
 George Gripp sticks to his first opinion, and says he's sure it will 
 prove felony." 
 
 I could not calmly listen whUe such villanous imputations were 
 thrown out against the man I loved, but rose and left the room, and, 
 retiring to my own apartment, I communed with my own sad 
 thoughts, and asked myself whether Seymour could be aught but 
 what my fancy pictured him. One moment's reflection established 
 him firmly in my estimation ; and every insinuation to his dis- 
 advantage faded from my memory. 
 
 I opened the casement, and looked pensively on the little flower 
 garden beneath the windoAv. How often had I watched impatiently 
 where I stood now, until the trysting hour arrived, and my husband 
 came stealing through the shrubbery to whisper in my delighted ear 
 assurances of endless love ! Suddenly a noise among the bushes 
 startled me ; a figure approached and stopped below the Avindow ; it 
 
88 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 was my brother. In a low voice he tokl me to he silent, and next 
 moment sprang into the apartment. 
 
 I remarked that his manner was hurried, and his face flushed, as if 
 from some violent exertion. 
 
 " What has happened, AVllliam ? Speak ; are jou ill ? Has there 
 been an accident ? " 
 
 " I fear, Julia," he replied, " that I have committed myself by 
 intermeddling in another's quarrel. But who could look on while 
 three men Avere assailing one ? " 
 
 " You alarm me, William ; go on." 
 
 " I was rambling homewards from the cliffs ; I heard three or four 
 shots in the direction of the landing-place ; and suspecting that smug- 
 glers were at work, I hastened off in another direction, lest any suspi- 
 cion might attach itself to me. My anxiety to avoid it, however, 
 brought on an unfortunate collision. I heard a noise .approaching ; 
 loud and angry voices, oaths, and blows, and the clashing of cutlasses 
 succeeded — and hastening on, at a turning of the path I ascertained 
 the cause. The fight was most xmequal, for three persons were 
 attacking a solitary man. I joined the weak side, stretched two 
 of our opponents on the ground, the third ran off, and for the first 
 time, I found that the man I rescued was Frank Brown. He wrung 
 my hand ; muttered his hurried thanks ; and then bounded like a deer 
 across the heath, and vanished in the IMiller's coppice." 
 
 I kissed my brother ardently. " Well, William, English blood is 
 warm — and who could look on and not assist a brave man when 
 assailed by numbers ? Would, however, that it had been some other ; 
 Red Frank is such a desperado — a branded man — a felon." 
 
 " Ay, girl, but was he not the first to jump into the life-boat after 
 me, when we saved the drowning Dutchman ? I owed him, devil as 
 he is, a good turn for his gallantry. For rescuing him I care nothing ; 
 but I fear that blood was spilled already upon the beach. The pistol 
 shots, and the desperate haste with which Red Frank escaped, lead 
 me to dread that some previous violence had occurred. Who is below, 
 JuHa?" 
 
 " My father, and my uncle." 
 
 " Hark ! I hear hasty footsteps ; slip down, Julia, and probably 
 you may hear if any accident has happened. I would not alarm my 
 father unnecessarily mitil we know whether the affray was serious." 
 
 I obeyed my brother's wishes, and returned to the parlour. We 
 heard men without ; they seemed excited, spoke fast, and hurried 
 rapidly along the street. Presently a knock was heard ; I opened the 
 door, — it was Gripp, my uncle's clerk. He had come here to seek his 
 master, and one glance at the evil agent of the lawyer, told that he 
 was the bearer of heavy news. 
 
 " Well, George," said Josiah, eagerly, " Avhat's wrong ?" The lawyer 
 never asked, " what's right ?" 
 
 " Nothing 2)ertikler," returned my uncle's satellite ; " only one man 
 is murdered, and half a dozen nearly killed." 
 
 " When — where — how ? " asked my uncle. 
 
 " Why, down at the Tinker's Cove ; a row between smugglers and 
 
HECTOR o'ilALLORAN. S9 
 
 revenue men. Red Frank shot Nat Davis through the heart — and he 
 was all but taken, when a comrade floored two officers, and Frank 
 gave leg-bail to the other." 
 
 " Ha ! that makes the other fellow an accessory after the fact ;' 
 hell hang, that's certain. Is he known ? " 
 
 George Gripp answered with a wink ; the wink was an affirmative one. 
 
 " Wliat's his name ? "Will he be able to fee counsel, and employ a 
 solicitor ? " inquired the lawyer. 
 
 Gripp winked affirmatively. 
 
 " His name?" 
 
 " One very like your own," was the reply. 
 
 My father stai'ted — " Speak, fellow, who was the murderer's com- 
 rade?" 
 
 " Your son," returned the bailiff, coldly. 
 
 " My son ? William Rawlings ? 'tis false, by Heaven I" _ 
 
 " You may depend upon it^ Dick," observed my precious uncle, 
 " that George Gripp is well-informed." 
 
 My father drooped Ids head — I sprang from my chair and folded 
 him in my arms. 
 
 " 'Tis false I my father — believe rnc, the charge is false." 
 
 " I wish it were," replied Josiah, in a tone that showed his incrc- 
 didity. 
 
 " Gracious Heaven !" murmured the poor quarter-master ; " and is the 
 son I loved so dearly, branded as accomplice to a murderer ? Did my 
 "William consort with desperate men, and engage in lawless enterprise ? 
 I won't — I can't believe it." 
 
 " You may depend upon it," returned the lawyer's clerk ; "I have it 
 from the best authority." 
 
 My fither turned wildly to my uncle — "Josh ! speak, man ! have 
 heart, for once, and say if what that scoundrel says may be credited. 
 You shake yom- head ; well, if the misfortune has occurred, what will 
 be its worst consequences ? Can you tell ? even — " 
 
 " Tell ?" returned the lawyer ; " ay, and with as much certainty, as 
 if the foreman of the jury had delivered a verdict ' for self and fellows.'" 
 
 " Out with the worst, man," gasped my father. 
 
 " They'll be hanged, that's safe," responded the lawyer, with a deci- 
 sion that forbad all argument. 
 
 " Hanged ! my "William hanged ! Hanged as a felon, and share an 
 outlaw's fate, with one f:\mUiarized to crime, and grown grey in 
 iniquity — Impossible !" 
 
 " I did not say," said Josiah coolly, "that their sentences would be 
 the same. Ned Frank will probably be gibbeted for example — but 
 Bill may — " 
 
 The quarter-master buried his head within his hands, and mur- 
 mured, " My son ! my son !" 
 
 " My father !" responded a voice, and my brother clasped the old 
 man in his arms. 
 
 A moment passed in silence. 
 
 " Is this foul story true, "William ?"' said the quarter-master, and in 
 tones wliich seemed to dread an answer to the inquiry. 
 
90 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 '• False as hell !" was boldly responded, and again the son was 
 locked more closely in his father's arms. 
 
 " The tale is shoi't. Accident brought me to the cliffs ; I witnessed an 
 unequal conflict— one man was assailed by three — and I joined him." 
 
 " Eight — by Heaven !" and for the first time my father lifted his 
 head proudl3^ 
 
 " I took the weaker side, and as it would appear, I undesignedly 
 have rescued a criminal." 
 
 " If you can support that statement by evidence, I'll undertake," 
 said the lawyer, " to get you off with transportation." 
 
 " Off with the Devil ! " roared my father. 
 
 My brother smiled. " Well, uncle, you hold out a pleasant prospect, 
 and after I have travelled at the public expense, I shall feel myself 
 bound in gratitude to come back, improved in morals and manners, 
 and tell you Avhat I have seen ; but after all, there will be no neces- 
 sity to undertake the voyage. "When the true history of this unfor- 
 tunate affray is known, it will not be difficult to prove that I am 
 blameless, and that I was neither engaged in imlawful enterprises, 
 nor knevf aught of the fatal consequences that followed. For a time, 
 however, I will leave home, not from any fears upon my own account, 
 but to avoid the painful duty of being called upon to criminate the 
 guilty." 
 
 To all, my brother's determination seemed right. My kind-hearted 
 parent approved the motives, and gave a ready consent. The lawyer 
 observed, that it would afford ample time, should it be found advisable, 
 to buy off the evidence ; while George Gripp proved the value of a 
 friend in need, by volunteering to swear an alibi himself, — an offer 
 which elicited a warm eulogium from his vii'tuous patron. 
 
 In half-an-hour William came to my room to say farewell. He had 
 made up some necessaries in a bundle, which he threw from the win- 
 doAV to a friend, who was waiting for him in the garden. 
 
 " Julia," he said, taking me in his arms, and kissing me with ardent 
 affection ; " Julia, I must confide to you what would pain our dear 
 father, were it told to him — mine will not be a temporary absence. No 
 tears, Julia ; be firm, and listen to a brother who loves you tenderly 
 as I do. The hand of destiny beckons me on ; for months I have been 
 wretched ; while every post bears tidings of some glorious deed, I, in 
 the pride of youth, am dreaming life away ; my days passed idling on 
 the beach, or listening at some cottage fire-side to the gossip of the 
 humble villagers. This evening as I stood upon the cliffs, I saw a 
 noble frigate close in shore, with her head turned to the coast of 
 France. The wind fell, not a breath ruflGied her canvas, and as she lay 
 motionless on the sea, I could almost look down upon her decks. Pre- 
 sently a boat was lowered, and it pulled directly for the cove a league 
 eastward from our landing-place, to obtain fresh water at the sjiring. 
 Before that boat returns, I shall have time to board the frigate. Hold, 
 Julia ; nothing can shake that resolution, and, therefore, listen to me 
 attentively. When I am gone, you must be to our father all — for then 
 you will be his only stay, his only comfort. You must Avatch his declining 
 years, cheer him when he droops, smile with him when he's happy — 
 
HECTOR o'halloran. 91 
 
 in illness, your task ■v\-ill be to smooth his pillovr ; in death, your 
 hand must close his eyes. Come, Julia, no weeping. If it be fated 
 that I fall, except you and the old man, few will weep for me. If I re- 
 turn, it will be ' with war's red honours on my crest,' to gladden my 
 father's age, and find some one to whom I can safely entrust thy hap- 
 piness, dear Julia — one, who can estimate tlie value of a woman, 
 whose thoughts are pure and cloudless as the light of yonder blessed 
 moon." 
 
 My conscience smote me bitterly as "William again pressed me to his 
 breast ; I felt the burning blush of shame steal over my pale cheeks, as 
 my heart whispered how much I had deceived that brother, who 
 beheved me incapable of artifice or concealment ; and though the con- 
 fession of my offence must be humiliating, I determined that it should 
 be made. From him I miglit not only ask for pardon, but advice ; and 
 the words were almost upon my lips, when suddenly a voice from below 
 was heard in under tones. 
 
 " William !" said the stranger, " the signal's given. See, that rocket 
 bursting in the air ! the boat's returning to the frigate." 
 
 " Then, there's not a moment to be lost." 
 
 " Stop ! my brother," I exclaimed ; " stop, for pity's sake. Oh ! 
 I have much, very much to tell you." 
 
 He caught me warmly to liis bosom ; kissed me again and again ; 
 whispered in my ear : "Look to our father, Julia— and wed not till 
 I return, or till you hear I am no more," He said, sprang lightly from 
 the window, bounded across the garden hedge, and in another minute, 
 the sounds of receding footsteps died away, and all was night and 
 silence. 
 
 From the hour when William departed, sorrow and misfoi'tune 
 seemed to choose our cottage for an abiding place. Letters thi-ough a 
 private hand came from Seymour ; but, alas ! they brought no conso- 
 lation with them. The aft'ected inditference of the style, and the 
 inconsistency of the statements, gave sad evidence that the writer was 
 diseased in mind, or body, or in both. The fatal affray which had un- 
 luckily compromised my brother's character for a time, and occasioned 
 the necessity for his concealment, was supposed to be sufficient cause for 
 my being desponding and depressed ; and my poor father, ignorant of 
 impending misery, and unconscious of the trials that awaited him, 
 vainly endeavoured to dispel my melancholy, and remove all feai'S upon 
 account of WiUiam. As he had foretold himself, his innocence 
 was completely established ; and those who were bitterly exasperated 
 against the real offenders, bore honourable testimony to the motives that 
 had induced my brother to commit himself; and while they regretted 
 that through his intervention a criminal had escaped, they admitted 
 that his conduct had been that of a man, who, under mistaken vie\ys, 
 performs a brave and generous action. No offence was imputed to him 
 now, and wherefore should he stay away longer ? But, I knew too 
 well that many a long month must elapse before the wanderer 
 would return. 
 
 It was a part of my evening's occupation to read the newspaper 
 to my father; and a fortnight after William's departure, I was 
 
92 Tin: FORTUNES OF 
 
 engaged in my customary duty. An event had occurred in London 
 to which public attention seemed to have been painfully directed, and 
 the paper contained a long statement, headed, " Farther particulars 
 of the forgeries and suicide committed by Captain Smith." The de- 
 tails thus given, stated that the unfortunate individual was the illegi- 
 timate offspring of a noble lord, whose name was mentioned. That 
 early in life he had obtained a commission in the army, — had moved 
 in the best circles, — indulged in fashionable follies, — and dissipated 
 large sums of money, with which, from time to time, his father had 
 supplied him. The earl died suddenly, leaving his natural son totally 
 unprovided for ; and he was thus thrown upon the world, with in- 
 curable habits of expense, and not a guinea to support them. His fall 
 was consequently rapid. He sold his commission, spent its small 
 produce in a short time, di'opped step by step from the high position 
 he once held, — and in ftist succession became a gambler, a cheat, a 
 forger, and a suicide ! His delinquencies were detected. The officers 
 of justice were already at the door of a mean lodging in which he had 
 concealed himself, when the criminal contrived to get out of a back 
 window and effect a temporary escape. But it was only to add crime 
 to crime. His clothes, next morning, were found upon the bank of 
 the river near AVandsworth, and beside them lay an empty phial, which 
 it was ascertained had contained a deadly poison ; and it was conjec- 
 tured that the unfortunate suicide had swallowed the contents before he 
 took the fatal plunge. It was, indeed, a melancholy story of profligate 
 life ; for, it was added, that an imposing person and fascinating address 
 had been turned to a bad account ; and that many a family had reason 
 to curse the day on which the accomplished roue had been introduced 
 to their acquaintance. 
 
 I could not tell wherefore, but as I read this miserable narrative, my 
 blood chilled, my lips grew white, and I could scarcely reach its close. 
 And yet, why should it affect me ? Was it not an every-day event ? 
 the regular advance of crime — beginning with improvidence, and 
 ending in ignominy and death. But still the story of the suicide 
 seemed to haunt my memory ; and sleeping or waking, the unknown 
 criminal constantly was present. 
 
 It was the third evening after. My father had accepted a neigh- 
 bour's invitation ; and I, preferring solitude to a scene of rustic 
 festivity, for which a heavy heart was badly suited, was left alone at 
 home. As usual, I was sitting in the window of my OAvn chamber, — 
 that window from Avhich I had watched a lover's coming, and 
 witnessed a brother's departure ; and lost in painful reveries, allowed 
 hours to slip unnoticed. The moon had gone down; the night 
 was unusually dark ; and the stillness was unbroken. I heard the 
 diy leaves rustle ; was it the wind that moved them ? I looked 
 suspiciously abroad ; a human figure was standing underneath, and a 
 voice so hoarse and hollow that I could not recognise its tones, softly 
 pronounced my name. I flung the casement open, and demanded, 
 " who was there ?" 
 
 " I, Julia ; your lover, your husband," and Seymour in another 
 minute held me nearly fainting in his arms. 
 
HECTOR o'HALLORAN. 03 
 
 "And was my voice forgotten, Julia?" he murmured, Iidf 
 reproachfully. '•' Well, I cannot wonder at it, for I have been ill, and 
 am hoarse as a raven. How cold the night is !" 
 
 " Cold ! Why, Edward, your hand is bui-ning. Stay, I will bring 
 lights, and get you some refreshment." 
 
 '•' No, no," he answered, hastily ; '• no lights, love ; some curious 
 eye might observe them. But I am thirsty; I could drink, drink 
 deeply. Bring me some wine, Julia ; no supper, love — I cannot eat, 
 I am weary, very weary." 
 
 jVnd was this Seymour ? that hollow voice the same, to whose soft 
 pleadings I had yielded a young heart, and renounced the sacred 
 allegiance wliich a father claims and merits ? That fevei'ed hand, too, — 
 was it the ai-dent glow which warms the husband when he hastens to 
 the home of her he loves ? "Why this strange fancy for darkness and 
 concealment ? The coining and the conduct of Seymour Avere equally 
 mysterious, and I dreaded to ask my husband the cause of this 
 ominous and vinexpected return. 
 
 But I was not left long in suspense, — Seymour half drained the 
 flask;— and habits so temperate before, appeared to have undergone 
 a rapid change ; for he drank like a man whose shattered nerves 
 require some powerful stimulus. 
 
 '• Julia," he said, " you did not expect this visit?" 
 
 " Indeed, I did not." 
 
 '•' Nor when I left you did I anticipate that my return would be so 
 sudden. Circumstances, which for a time must remain unexplained, 
 have rendered it imperative that I should claim you, and our marriage 
 no longer shall be secret." 
 
 " Heaven be praised I" I murmured. 
 • " To-night, Julia, you shall go with me." 
 
 " To-night ! impossible ! My lather's proud. He never would 
 consent that his daughter should steal from her home." 
 
 " Your father ? He shall know nothing of it. No, Julia, we must 
 leave the cottage privately ; and, for a brief season, duty to the parent 
 must give place to the stronger claims of wedded love." 
 
 " Am I dreaming ? Seymour, — what would you liave me do ? 
 Desert my father heartlessly, and leave the good old man without 
 humbling myself at his feet, and begging the pardon I require, — the 
 forgiveness he would grant ? Fly from this once happy home I — 
 'Twould break my father's heart. — I'll never do it." 
 
 " Then, Julia, we part for ever." 
 
 " Part for ever ! Seymour. Do I hear aright ? Is this, indeed, 
 vour voice ? and do you tell her who proved her love at the expense 
 of lilial duty, that she must either fly from her home like a guilty 
 woman, or be deserted by the man who led her into error .''" 
 
 Seymour perceived the threat of parting had produced a different 
 effect to what he had expected, and at once he changed his tone to 
 that of entreaty and persuasion ; and, with admirable tact, appealed to 
 my feelings and my love. He pleaded that the separation from my 
 father would be but brief. I should return united to one whose position 
 in society was far above my own. My parent's anger would be short- 
 
91 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 lived, and his sorrow would be turned into joy. Where a woman's 
 heart is advocate, her mind is easily convinced. I yielded a reluctant 
 consent ; and before we parted, it Avas arranged that in two hours 
 I should be ready to accompany him, and quit a happy home to follow 
 the fortunes of an unknown lover. I packed some clothes, and ad- 
 dressed an exculpatory letter to my father, breaking to him as gently 
 as I could, the sad tidings that his daughter had deserted him. 
 Many a tear blistered the paper while I wrote. He was in bed — pos- 
 sibly sleeping. I stole softly down to place the billet on his table — but 
 he heard the door unclose, and inquired " if that were Julia ?" 
 
 " Yes, my father ; I come to say. Good night." 
 
 The old man kissed me tenderly; and with unusual solemnity 
 muttered as I left the room, " Child of my heart ; may God for ever 
 bless thee !" They were the last words I ever heard him speak. 
 
 What followed may be briefly told. At the appointed hour Seymour 
 ■was waiting, and unperceived, we quitted the village in a vehicle he 
 had procured. We travelled all night; and when morning was 
 brealiing, my husband discharged the cart, and we entered an obscure 
 inn to obtain the rest and refreshment which to both were Avanting. 
 The morning light, feeble at first, grew stronger ; and I nearly fainted, 
 when for the first time I remarked the altered appearance of my 
 husband. His light brown hair, once so sedulously attended to, was 
 clipped short, and'the very colour changed to raven blackness, and his 
 skin was bronzed like that of a gipsey. Formerly, he dressed with simple 
 elegance ; but now his clothes were actually shabby, and put on with 
 the marked indifference of a man who is reckless of appearances. He 
 had no luggage with him — the few articles he possessed were tied up 
 in a little bundle. 
 
 I felt assured that some terrible reverse had overtaken hun ; 
 and in this sad hour recollected the evil auguries of my uncle Josiah. 
 But my situation was hopeless. The last rash action was far beyond 
 recall ; and mustering a desperate resolution, I determined to bow^ to 
 my destiny, and share the fate of my ill-starred husband. One thing 
 I believed, that the worst was known, and we had descended fortune's 
 ladder to the lowest step. I was wrong : the extent of my debasement 
 remained still to be disclosed. 
 
 We appeared to wander over the country without any settled 
 object ; and provided the route led from the metropolis, my husband 
 seemed ifidiflferent whither our footsteps turned. 
 
 A fortnight passed, and we still continued to pursue what appeared 
 to me would prove a sad and endless pilgrimage. One evening, after 
 a fatiguing walk, we found ourselves settled in a road-side ale-house. 
 Both required some rest, and we looked forward to a comfortable 
 uight, for the house was clean, and our reception had been civil. 
 Alas ! we had already experienced how much an inn's civility depends 
 upon the appearance of those who claim admittance ! Our resources 
 were reduced to a few pounds ; and my soiled dress and Seymour's 
 care-worn countenance proclaimed our poverty at once, and by more 
 than one landlord we had been unceremoniously rejected. 
 
 While supper was being prepared, Seymour stretched himself upon 
 
HECTOR O HALLOIIAN. 95 
 
 a bench beneath a spreading elm which stood before the door, and I 
 remained at a window of the room to which we had been introduced 
 on our arrivah A newspaper was lying on the table. I took it up, 
 and for a few minutes glanced carelessly across its columns. Sud- 
 denly, my attention was fearfully awakened, my eyes were fascinated 
 to one spot, — a scorching fire shot thi-ough my brain, — I read the fatal 
 paragraph a second time, — ftxinted, — and dropped upon the floor. 
 
 When I recovered I found myself in bed ; Seymour was beside me ; 
 I looked wildly at him for a moment, and then, as if something hor- 
 rible had blasted my sight, I buried my head beneath the coverings ; 
 Seymour knelt beside the bed, implored me to be calm, swore he would 
 conceal nothing, owned he was a scoundi-el, a betrayer — his life was 
 at my disposal — and the sooner it was forfeited the better. After I 
 had been carried to my room he had searched the paper, and read 
 there that fjital paragraph which had disclosed to me the secret of his 
 crime. Merciful Heaven ! Smith, the supposed suicide, and my 
 husband, were the same ! 
 
 It might have been supposed, that now fully conscious of his infamy, 
 I Avould have deserted him at once and left Seymour to his fate. In 
 seducing me into a private marriage, he had practised a cruel impo- 
 sition ; and in persuading me, under false assurances, to quit my 
 father's house and share his felon fortunes, his conduct had been base 
 and savage beyond all pardon. Yet, some secret yearning of my 
 heart, Avhispered that he should not be abandoned ; and though Smith, 
 the branded ci-iminal, was before me, I could not forget how ardently 
 I had once loved the gay and fascinating Seymour. I had sacrificed 
 myself to him at the altar ; my vow of duty and obedience was 
 recorded, and I desperately resolved to shai-e his fate-^wretched as 
 that fate must be. 
 
 The remainder of my sad history is but a detail of sorrow and mis- 
 fortune. I dare not dwell upon it — if I did, my brain would madden. 
 Before six months elapsed after my evasion from the village, news 
 reached England that the frigate into which WiUiam had' entered a 
 volunteer, in the ardour of pursuit, had become embayed upon the 
 coast of France, and, attacked at fearful advantage, she had been 
 fought with desperate valour to the last, and had gone down with 
 England's unconquered banner flying at her mast-head, and with the 
 greater portion of her gallant crew. In the return of the killed, my 
 brother's name was found. 
 
 Need I tell you that his brave boy's loss — his daughter's base deser- 
 tion — were more than the old man coidd bear ? They broke my father's 
 heart ; and a few months since — (she paused, gasped as if something 
 choked her utterance, and then in a hollow whisper, added) — he died ! 
 Who was his murderess ? 
 
 I must end these sickening disclosures. For a year, my outcast 
 husband and myself wandered over the country, under the assumed 
 name of Montague. We joined a company of strollers, and in our 
 erratic course of life we crossed the sea. No criminal, I sincerely 
 believe, felt deeper contrition for his manifold offendings than my 
 felon husband. The sting of remoi'se struck him to the heart ; he pined 
 
96 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 away ; and cold, and wet, and hunger, completed what mental sufienng 
 had begun. He fell into a rapid consumption — and it was qmte evident 
 to me that he Avas hurrying to the only haven of repose reserved for 
 him — the grave. 
 
 He died ; but death to the outcast was a boon. Faithful to the 
 last, I remained until his parting sigh escaped. These hands closed his 
 eyes ; and I saw him interred as a pauper in the most neglected corner 
 of an obscure churchyard. Had he no mourner ? Yes ; he had one. 
 I forgot his crimes, and all the misery he had wrought me ; and the 
 outcast's deserted grave was sprinkled with the tears of the woman he 
 had betrayed. 
 
 The fosterer was deeply affected. He pressed the poor mourner's 
 hand, and strove to cheer and comfort her. 
 
 " Julia !" he said, " What do you intend to do ? Where do you 
 purpose going ? May I protect you ?" 
 
 She raised her eyes, and gave him a look of gratitude, but shook 
 her head. 
 
 '•' Ai-e you returning home, Julia ?"' 
 
 " I am indeed about to seek a home," she replied, with a long deep 
 sigh. " It must be sought beside my father's grave ; and that once 
 found, I'll die there ! Hush ! footsteps are approaching ; and now to 
 resume a weary journey, and — a last one !" 
 
 She rose, went to the little basin, and dipping her hands in the 
 cooling water, bathed her burning temples, and washed away the traces 
 of her tears. Marc Antony in silence lifted the bundle, and the 
 youthful ti-avellers once more gained the high road, when two persons, 
 wayfaring like themselves, approached them. 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 97 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A GENERAL DISCOVERY. 
 
 " I -was ta'en for him, and he for me, 
 And thereupon these errors are arose." 
 
 Shakspere. 
 
 TTniLE Mark Antony and his companion are on the road, we must 
 leave the man to take care of himself, and returning to the master, 
 inquire whether in the interim any particular " ups and downs " had 
 occurred in the fortunes of myself, Mr. Hector O'Halloran. I was left 
 in bed — and where could a safer place be found wherein to deposit 
 a light-headed young gentleman ? But every body knows that general 
 rules are not without exceptions — and, the circumstances considered, 
 by which I had obtained possession of the quaker's dormitory, I feel 
 assured that the gentle reader will wish me a safe deliverance from 
 the same. 
 
 I will not enter into minute details of how the false positions of 
 myself and Samuel Piyme were finally detected ; but in the parlance 
 of Tony Lumpkin's respectable friend, who never danced a bear to un- 
 fashionable music, will sum them up in " a concatenation accordingly," 
 namely, the sleepy soliloquy of the chief butler of the worthy quaker. 
 
 Jack Costigan was one of those gifted individuals who sleep 
 at pleasure. He had a light conscience and a heavy head ; and if 
 there was one mortal annoyance that he abominated above the rest, 
 it was to have any portion of " natm-e's sweet restorative " abridged. 
 Twice had his slumbers been invaded. He had let in one master 
 dead drunk, and admitted the other, who had been belated. These 
 were grievous visitations ; but, like other misfortunes, they were 
 over ;"and determined to make up, if possible, for broken sleep, 
 lM"r. Costigan once more sought his pillow, and for a season had been 
 buried in " dreamless slumberings." Alas ! this Elysian state of sweet 
 forgetfulness was presently dispelled. In successive vollies, sand 
 struck the casement sharply ; and " every pause between," a .soffo voce 
 appeal fell sluggishly upon the sleeper's ear, requiring admission to the 
 garrison. 
 
 ^ Now this was more than flesh and blood could stand. To two 
 masters, as we said before, the butler had given admission, and both 
 were disposed of as cln-istian men should be ; and, as tlie fact is clearly 
 understood in Ireland, and upon parliamentary authority too, that 
 nothing can be in two places at once — barring a bird — it was quite clero- 
 
98 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 that neither of the Prymes could be at one and the same time in bed 
 and in the street. Of course, the intruder must be a stranger : he was 
 on the right side to run away, namely, the wrong side of the hall-door — 
 and there let him remain. Having come to this discreet resolution, 
 and consigned the unknown to the especial care of that personage more 
 genteelly known t\£ "the gentleman in black," Mr. Costigan once 
 more turned on his pillow, determined to all fm-ther appeals to play 
 deaf adder, and sleep like a Avatcliman during the little time now 
 left him. 
 
 Bat the stranger would not be denied. A sharper volley rattled 
 against the windows, and a voice came down the area, and softly but 
 distinctly pronounced, " John Costigan, I pray thee to arise, and let 
 me in — I am thy friend." 
 
 " Arrah, then, feaks," observed the butler with a desperate yawn, 
 " that's my own name, sure enough ; but to the divil I pitch such 
 friendship, whoever ye are. I see that I'll never stand the place ; for 
 of all the dens I ever was in, for a racketty hole this quaker's 
 bates them hollow. Wasn't I for three months second waiter at the 
 " Free and asy " in Roscrea ; and when the Blazers would tatter the 
 Iiouse once a fortnight, wliy a man could get a little sleep, while the 
 damage was repairin' ; but here, there's nothing but batteration. In 
 tumbles the young chap blind drunk, and nearly breaks my back 
 carryin' him up stairs. Then in rowls the ould sinner, just off the 
 ran-tan, wid a cock-and-bull story in his mouth about a broken coach, 
 to blind that stiff-backed gentlewoman that owns him. Death and 
 'nages ! Avhat a chate he is !— if one didn't know his tricks, he might 
 think butter wouldn't melt in his mouth — he's so fair spoken : the ould 
 decaver !" 
 
 Here a shower of sand interrupted Mr. Costigan's soliloquy. 
 
 " Asy, bad luck to ye ! Do you mane to smash the glass, ye 
 thief ? Wait till I git the breeches on, and maybe ye won't git a fla 
 in ye'r ear for disturbin' an honest tradesman like myself." 
 
 Having slipped on his nether garment, the butler unlocked the area 
 door, as from that position he could hold safer converse, having the 
 palisades between him and the intruder. 
 
 Never did an unhappy quaker find greater difficulty to establish his 
 identity ; for Mr. Costigan was not an impartial judge, he having 
 already fully determined to reject all evidence the claimant might 
 adduce. But one doubt presented itself to the worthy butler— could 
 ■ T'jie person he had carried up to bed have been a phantom ? Oh, no ; the 
 burden was " too, too, solid flesh,"— a fact his aching back attested. 
 
 ''■ Of a truth, friend Costigan," said the youth, " I am thy master's 
 son." 
 
 " Arrah, nahodish!" returned the incredulous pantler. 
 
 '= Open the wicket," pursued the suppliant; "thy look is good- 
 natured ; and wouldst thou expose me to my father's anger ?" 
 
 " Arrah, none of ye'r soft solder with me," responded Mr. Costigan. 
 " Divil a toe you'll put into the house, good nor bad. Be off wid ye ; 
 f;'ve ye'r rags a gallop, or, be this book, I'll chai-ge ye on the watch." 
 
 Tlie loud tone in which the indignant butler repudiated the real 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 99 
 
 Simon Pure had reached his fiither's ears, and brought the tetc-a-tete 
 to a close. The window opened ; and Mr. Pryme demanded, " What 
 caused the noise beneath ?" 
 
 " Nothing," returned ]Mi\ Costigan ; " only here's a rambler on the 
 street, that, right or wrong, wants me to let him in, and swares he's a 
 son of yours into the bargain." 
 
 " Who art thou, friend ? demanded the elder quaker." 
 
 " Thy erring son," returned a voice, choked Avith shame, and almost 
 inaudible. 
 
 " What do I hear ? — Thou, my son ?" 
 
 " Impossible !" exclaimed a female voice ; and Mrs. Pryme's night- 
 cap came popping through another window. " Our son Samuel is 
 long since a-bed." 
 
 Alas I one glance confirmed the identity of the applicant ; and to 
 Mr. Pryme the discovery was most painful — while it passed the un- 
 derstanding of Mr. Costigan altogether. Doubtingly, at the bidding of 
 his master, the butler unclosed the door, while the old man descended 
 to the hall to receive his eri'ing child, and learn the particulars of an 
 occurrence with which so much mystery seemed to be involved. 
 
 To the heart of a fond father, how irresistibly come the plead- 
 ings of a first offence ! The word of pardon passed the old man's 
 lips — the young offender was folded in his parent's arms — and it 
 would be doubtful to determine, whether the happier of the twain was 
 he who received, or he who had extended forgiveness. 
 
 All this was as it should be ; but what the devil was to become of 
 me ? Indeed, my hour of retribution was at hand — for the reconciha- 
 tion was scarcely completed, before it was intimated to ]\Ii'. Pryme, 
 that an unknown guest had honoured the mansion with his company, 
 — that he was at present sound asleep — that his reception had been 
 affectionate — but it was not considered necessary to add, that he had 
 received more decided tokens of regard, and been kissed by half the 
 female portion of the establishment. 
 
 To ascertain who this mysterious visitor might be, Mr. Pryme 
 proceeded at once to my apartment, accompanied by his henchman, 
 Jack Costigan, who, to guard against danger or surprise, had provided 
 himself with the kitchen poker. No ally could have been better 
 affected than the butler ; for, by future good service, he was anxious to 
 redeem the error he had committed in rejecting an heir-apparent 
 from liis father's house, as unceremoniously as if he had been the tax- 
 gatherer. 
 
 I laboured under the stupid inertion which succeeds a di'unken 
 debauch, and was buried in profound repose. Unheard and unchal- 
 lenged, the quaker approached my bed, while the butler unclosed the 
 window-shutters. The quaker touched my shoulder gently — and in a 
 voice as calm as if he were adch-essing an honoured guest, inquired, 
 " Friend, art thou sleeping ?" 
 
 Fancying that I was wakened by my servant to attend morning 
 di-ill, I irreverently responded, — 
 
 " Curse aU parades ! Tell Sergeant Skelton to go to Bath, and let 
 the Adjutant go after him !" 
 
 h2 
 
100 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " Swear not," returned Mr. Pryme ; " but say, how wilt thou excuse 
 thyself?"— 
 
 "Oh!" I replied, still dreaming of drill and duty, "I'll leave that 
 to you : say I have a head-ache — a tooth-ache — or any ache you 
 please. In short, tell any lie that will answer best !" 
 
 " Friend, thou dost neither comprehend my meaning, nor I thine ;" 
 replied the old gentleman. 
 
 At the moment, Mr. Costigan managed to unclose the shutters ; — a 
 Hood of sunshine streamed in, lightened the apartment suddenly, and 
 at once dispelled my slumberings. I started, like a guilty thing, bolt 
 upright in the bed, and encountered full front, the burly form of the 
 honest quaker ; wdiile Mr. Costigan, poker in hand, remained some 
 paces in the rear, ready to aid and support his master on the first indi- 
 cation of hostilities. 
 
 " My name is Obadiali Pryme — Friend, what is thine ?" 
 
 The question was a regular choker. I was called on to become my 
 own accuser, and stand before my father's chosen representative, a 
 self-convicted 7'0%ie. Of the ^finale of my career, what goodly promise 
 did its opening give ! my first introduction to my guardian — a rascally 
 invasion of his premises, — and, were I pressed to extenuate the offence, 
 I could not, with Jack Falstaff, even plead that I had not "kissed 
 the keeper's daughter." 
 
 Trifles hurry on great events, — and a recommendation from Mi-. Cos- 
 tigan, that I should be sent direct to Newgate, roused my latent pride, 
 and re-established courage, that was oozing fast from my finger-ends. 
 
 " Peace, John !" returned the- quaker ; "Thy name, friend ?" 
 
 *'Is one, Sir, not unknown to you !" 
 
 " Indeed !" said the old man, with some surprise. 
 
 " I am called Hector O'Halloran !" 
 
 "Protect us!" exclaimed Mr. Pryme, with hands and eyes up- 
 turned; "Wert thou then the companion of my erring boy, and par- 
 took in last night's godless revelry ?" 
 
 "He was not my companion" I answered boldly; "but / his 
 tempter. I led him to commit the folly that he did — and the blame of 
 all should rest with me." 
 
 The quaker gave me a benignant look, took my hand, and pressed 
 it warmly — and next moment my pardon Avas jironounced. 
 
 " Hector O'Halloran," he said, " thy candour redeems thy crime. 
 He who so freely owns a fault will probably henceforward eschew tlie 
 ways of foolishness. Sleep ; the morning yet is young. I am thank- 
 ful that the son of my ancient friend was fortunately brought to a 
 home where he was placed in safety. Thou shalt be called ere break- 
 fast-hour arrives." 
 
 Once more the shutters were closed. The quaker departed, and I 
 was left to marvel at the luck by which I had undeservedly escaped 
 the pains and penalties of this my first delinquency, 
 
 I slumbered away two hours, dreaming of X^harleys' lanterns, poles, 
 and stolea kisses, until my "man taliped at the door" with a carpet- 
 bag containing a full equipment. Indeed, it was fortunate for me 
 that Mr. Pry!ne had sent for my servant and a refit ; for the formal 
 
x^i^i^t^ 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAX. 101 
 
 Iiabiliments iu wLicIi I liad masqueraded on the preceding evening 
 now cut a sorry figure, as Jolin examined tliem one by one. Tlie 
 coat was changed into a spencer ; for, in the inclee, body and skirts 
 had parted company, — wliile that garment, politely termed unmention- 
 able, exhibited so many compound fractures, that the tailor would have 
 been a daring artist who woidd have undertaken the repairs. Having- 
 completed my toilet, my valet took his departure, just as the quaker's 
 butler announced that the ladies were waiting for me in the parlour. 
 
 TV^hen the summons to the breakfast -table was delivered, I felt it a 
 first draft upon the assurance of a bashful Irishman, and I would have 
 freely sacrificed a month's pay, to have been permitted to slip off" with- 
 out any flourish of trumpets. It was bad enough to face my worthv 
 mentor, — him, to whom especially both my morality and expenditure 
 had been consigned. But it was the c^uaker's womankind whom I had 
 most cause to di'ead — ladies swindled out of a kiss under false pre- 
 tences, — how the deuce was I to encounter the chaste indignation, which 
 the recollection of that felonious accolade woidd assuredly call forth ? 
 My foot stuck to the last step of the staircase, as if it had been glued 
 there ; and there I stood, in the comfortable position of a person who 
 is ashamed to retreat, and afraid to go forward. The chief butler, 
 however, brought matters to a crisis. Emerging from the lower 
 regions by a back stair, he entered the breakfast-room, and I had the 
 satisf\iction to hear him announce, in a voice intended only to be audi- 
 ble to those %\'ithin, that " the di-unken gentleman was in the haU," 
 accompanied with a-ruBniog commentary of, "What impudence some 
 people have !" 
 
 The remark, under existing circumstances, was not an encouraging 
 one ; and it would have afforded me unspeakable delight to have seen 
 Mr. Costigan under the bastinado. Yet nothing, indeed, but that 
 quality which it was insinuated I possessed extensively, would bear me 
 thi-ough ; and, after invoking the powers of impudence, in I despe- 
 rately ventured. 
 
 But to my offendings mercy had been extended. Had I been an 
 expected visitor, Mr. Prj-me's reception could not have been kinder, — 
 and his stiff" helpmate inquired, " Had I rested well ?" Rachael, — oh ! 
 how that plain peaked muslin, wliich vainly strove to hide a profusion 
 of auburn hair, became her ! She, sweet girl, bade me a timid good- 
 morrow, and then, blushing to the very brows, dropped her do'se- 
 like eyes upon the table-cloth. All this was passing strange — strange 
 that the felonious invasion of a quiet domicile at midnight should 
 elicit no jobation — and, stranger still — the kiss of peace appeared to 
 have totally escaped the memories of all parties save myself, impli- 
 cated in the transaction ! 
 
 Breakfast ended — the old lady withdrew — and Mr. Pryme asked me 
 to walk with him to his counting-house. Eequesting leave of absence 
 for ten minutes to arrange some domestic matters before he should 
 leave home, the quaker retii-ed from the parlour, and Eachael and I 
 were left to entertain each other as we best could. 
 
 For a short time our mutual position was embarrassing. I did not 
 know exactly what to say ; and the fair puritan maintained a solemn 
 
102 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 silence, witli lier sparkling eyes fixed steadily upon the carpet. It 
 was quite apparent that I was expected to lead oif ; and, after an 
 awkward pause, the ice at last was broken. 
 
 "Miss Pryme" — I commenced. 
 
 " Friend," returned the young lady, " I am not thus termed ; I am 
 simply called Rachael." 
 
 " What a pretty name ! " I replied, for want of something else to 
 Bay. 
 
 " It was that of my grandmother," returned the lady. 
 
 " ^^ell — Rachael," I continued, " I feai* my late visit occasioned 
 some confusion. Certainly the mistakes of last night were singular 
 and ridiculous." 
 
 " They were, indeed," replied the pretty maiden, raising her eyes, 
 which, for the first time, now encountered mine ; and, by a mutual 
 impulse, we both burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Egad, 
 we were thinking of the same thing ; and the remembrance of that 
 confounded kiss of peace had thus demolished the gravity of both. 
 
 " Rachael," I said, catching one of the prettiest hands imaginable 
 in mine, " I must confess my ofience, and throw myself for pardon 
 on your clemency." 
 
 " I have nothing to forgive," replied the fair one, demurely. 
 
 " To its fullest extent I own my ci-ime. The temptation, dear 
 Rachael, was too great to be withstood— but, as a proof of returning 
 probity, I will restore what was fraudulently obtained." 
 
 " Hector," returned the blushing girl, whUe an arch smile ' play'd 
 round her lip and brighten'd her soft eye,' — " I admire thy honesty ; 
 but I have heard my father say, that it is generally better to put up 
 with a loss, than seek restitution by doubtful means. Therefore, my 
 friend, we had better leave matters as they are." 
 
 " Heaven forbid," I replied, " that I should abuse such generosity." 
 
 " Hector, I am ready for thee now," exclaimed the deep voice of 
 Mr. Pryme. 
 
 " Fai-ewell, dear Rachael ; I have always heard that honesty was 
 politic — but faith, I never thought till now that it was half so pleasant." 
 
 " Friend Hector," said the fair girl, with a look of rich espieglerie, 
 as she hurried from the room, towards which the creaking of her 
 father's shoes announced that he was approaching, — " probity may be 
 strained too far. For the future, content thyself with returning what 
 thou owest, but add not interest to the debt that even a usurer would 
 scruple to receive. Farewell. May thy honesty continue ; for sudden 
 conversions are always suspicious." 
 
 She ran, laughing, from the apartment ; and, in a few moments. 
 Ml'. Pryme summoned me to accompany him. 
 
 At his counting-house I found a packet which had arrived from my 
 father by the morning's post ; and with surprise I found that it con- 
 tained an order for my stai'ting for London without delay. He 
 had been privately apprised by a friend in the AYar-ofiice, that an 
 exchange might be effected with a lieutenant who was about to quit 
 the Peninsula, from ill health. This would give me the full step ; 
 and I was directed to obtain a leave between returns — repair to town 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAX. 103 
 
 at once — and deliver, personally, letters my father had enclosed to 
 certain functionai-ies at the Horse Guards. 
 
 I promptly obeyed the order, the colonel granted my request, and 
 Don Juan like, I parted with ]^Ii\ Pryme — 
 
 " Bade my valet pack some things 
 According to direction, then received 
 A lecture and some money. ***** 
 A letter, too, he gave (I never read it) 
 Of good advice, and tvro or three of credit." 
 
 Next morning I called at the quaker's house to say adieu in form, 
 and found the ladies at home. 1 sate for a long half-hour ; but had I 
 remained till doomsday, I fancy Mi's. Pryme would have knitted on. 
 At last I took a ceremonious leave ; and — confound all stiff-backed 
 gentlewomen who won't leave young people to themselves — Eachael 
 and I parted without the kiss of peace. 
 
 CHAPTER Xin. 
 
 MARK A:;T0>'Y in LOVE FIKST, AND IN TROUBLE AFTERWARDS. 
 
 " Oh, Heaven ! that such companions thou'dst unfold, 
 And put in every honest hand a whip, 
 To lash the rascal naked through the world." 
 
 Shaksperk. 
 
 Fate seemed determined that on the world's stage mine should be 
 a hurried eniree ; and, when I had only caught a glimpse of passing 
 life, that my bark should be launched at once upon the current of 
 existence, to float or flounder as it could. Short as my career had 
 been, it had not passed unmarked by incident. To fortune I was 
 already indebted for more than one deliverance ; and believing them 
 to be an earnest of future civilities on the lady's part, I resolved to 
 take the world as it came, put my trust in the blind goddess of the 
 wheel, and prove the proverbial good luck which mostly follows in the 
 footsteps of an Irishman, Willingly, therefore, I obeyed my father's 
 orders, and on the following evening quitted the Emerald Isle, on the 
 pleasant and profitable pursuit of " the bubble reputation." 
 
 It had surprised me that, hitherto, no communication had reached me 
 from Mark Antony O'Toole, touching the adventures which had befdlen 
 him since his disappearance from KilcuUen. There, his evasion, as my 
 father mentioned in his letter, had occasioned a marvellous sensation, 
 iliss Kitty O'Dwyer, as a mere matter of course, having been expected 
 to commit suicide, or die broken-hearted within a fortnight. Neither 
 event, however, as the fancy say, " came off." Kitty continued in rude 
 health, and the fosterer's movements remained still wrapped in 
 mystery. But, as it turned out, Mark Antony's career was singularly 
 connected with my own — the same star appeared to rule our destinies — 
 both were simultaneously leaving the land of the west, appai-ently at 
 
104 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 tlic beck of fortune's finger ; and of the tAvain, wliicli pursuit was the 
 more crotchetty would have heen a question ; the fosterer, levanting 
 for love, and I, for glory. 
 
 We left Mark Antony and his fair companion on the road, with the 
 world before them, and some wayfarers, like themselves, in the rear. 
 Whoever the travellers might prove to be who approached the dell 
 where the fosterer and his friend had I'efreshed themselves, it was quite 
 evident that the school where their philosophy had been acquired was 
 of any order but the crying one. One manly voice trolled a jovial 
 drinking song, to which two others occasionally bore a burden. As a 
 sharp turning in the road, skirted with thick copsewood, masked the 
 stranger's advance, their merry laugh and reckless gaiety told that 
 Father Care was not of " the companie ;" and their calling and character 
 might have been shrewdly guessed from passing conversation and 
 snatches of song. 
 
 " I wonder, Pat," said one of the wayfarers, " to see you in such 
 spirits after parting with Nelly Blake as if your heart was breaking. 
 Neither of ye cared a button at leaving me watching for a long hour at 
 the other side of the hedge like a poacher, for fear the old priest would 
 come out and catch you philandering with his housekeeper. Lord, 
 how you swore, and she — poor girl ! — believed it ; but when you 
 strove to cry and keep her company, oh ! — that was all but the death 
 of me." 
 
 " Well, Tom," returned the second, "if I broke down at the weep- 
 ing, you will admit that I did not disgrace my calling, but swore like 
 a trooper. You'll hardly believe how much that girl has bothered me. 
 Hand me the cruiskeen. Remember, Tom, for love there's but one 
 remedy, — and the beauty of it is, that for every symptom it proves a 
 certain cure, — hear what the song says — 
 
 " If you ere love a maid who your passion derides, 
 Drink euougb, you'll find charms in a dozen besides, 
 Drink more, and your victory then is complete. 
 For you'll fancy you love every girl that you meet." 
 
 Hallo ! — who have we here ? Talking of love, they seem to be a 
 couple of Cupid's own. Egad, a nice girl, — and if I could but list her 
 companion ! Lord, what shoulders he has for a pair of wings !" 
 
 In another minute the travellers were alongside the fosterer and his 
 friend. A civil greeting passed ; and with that easy confidence with 
 which natives of the Emerald Isle hold communication with each other, 
 it was speedily ascertained that the route of the united party was the 
 same, until it reached a road-side inn, where the strangers announced 
 it to be their intention of halting for the night. 
 
 The dress and personal appearance of the wayfarers was remarkable : 
 one wore the uniform of a militia-man ; another the dark clothing 
 of a student ; but from the costume of the third, it was impossible 
 to form any opinion of what his calling might be. 
 
 He was a tall and stout-made personage, apparently of midtUe age, 
 with sandy hair and whiskers, partially intersprinkled with grey. His 
 countenance was particularly good-humoured — and in his light blue 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAX. 105 
 
 eyes there was an expression of drollery and acuteness. He wore a 
 hai'e-skin cap, a dark-coloured shooting-jacket, short tights, and leather 
 gaiters. He was provided with a goat-skin knapsack — two wiry terriers 
 followed closely at his heels, and a dhudcene and oak-stick pompleted 
 his appointments. The style also by which his comrades addressed him 
 added to the mystery of his profession : the soldier addressing him as 
 ' ta Cojiteeine," * and the student merely calling him Shonus Rhiia.^ 
 
 If in the captain's sobriquets and outer man there was anything 
 embtu'rassing, there was nothing about the soldier-like concealment. 
 The chevrons on his arm told his rank, and the pack upon his shoulder 
 his regiment. After announcing that he was ou the route to embark 
 with a di'aught of volunteers for the Peninsula, he thus noticed his 
 companions. 
 
 " This," he said, pointing to the student, " is the making of a priest ; 
 but if I can persuade him, he'll not give them any trouble in Maynooth. 
 "What a sin it would be to spoil a feUow cut out for a flanker ; and 
 on a shoulder intended to carry a grenade, to hang a surplice. Leave 
 your breviary to your old uncle, and talie hroivn bess in place of it. 
 Spain's the place, Tom. Egad, how the old priest will stare when he 
 finds out that I haxe whisked away his nephew." 
 
 " Faith," replied the student, " the only wonder is you did not 
 whisk away his niece." 
 
 " No, no — EUen and I must leave matters as they are until we return. 
 Then, I'U marry your pretty cousin, Tom, and we'U share Father 
 Dominick's purse honestly between us. "What say ye, captain ?" 
 
 " "VMiy that you must put the old man imder the tui'f first. He 
 would not part with a dollar to make a colonel of ye." 
 
 " Well, priests cannot live for ever. But whither are you bound, 
 honest Shemus ? Are you on a medical excursion at present ?" 
 
 " Is this gentleman a doctor ?" inquired Mark Antony. 
 
 " He's a man of many trades," returned the sergeant, with a laugh. 
 '• With Humbei't he was a captain ; a doctor afterwards ; poaches a 
 little now and then ; bleeds old women ; ties flies ; breaks dogs ; cures 
 children ; kills rats ; and, in a word, is generally accomplished. His 
 titles are numerous as his tastes ; and he still holds the same rank he 
 had when he was out with the French in ninety-eight." 
 
 The captain smiled at the sergeant's description ; and the travellers 
 jested, laughed, and sang until they reached the public-house, where 
 they were to separate from the fosterer and his companion. 
 
 Wliile the soldier, the student, and the rat-catcher settled themselves 
 in the kitchen, Mark Antony and the wandering girl retired to a 
 private room. Both were heavily cast down, for in a bi'ief space they 
 were to part, and probably for ever. 
 
 " And is your resolution unchangeable, Julia ?" said Mark Antony, 
 as he clasped her hand. 
 
 The girl burst into tears, and faintly answered in the afl&rmative. 
 
 " Hear me, Julia," said the fosterer, "before you decide ; and believe 
 that every word that passes my lips comes directly from the heart. 
 You say tliat you have no relations ; no one to shelter and protect 
 * The Captain. f Eed James. 
 
106 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 you ; none to love you. Julia, why then reject me ? Why should we 
 not unite our fates and battle with the world as we can ? Alas ! 1 iiuve 
 nothing to ofTer you hut a wai-m heart and a stout arm. I'll work for 
 you — toil for you — fight for you. Will you not then let me love 
 you, Julia ?" 
 
 God help the worthy fosterer ! With all his soul he was ready to 
 commit matrimony on the moment ; and without the slightest knowledge 
 of the* means by which he might secure a living for himself, he 
 would have freely undertaken the maintenance of another still more 
 helpless. 
 
 " Mark," said the wanderer, for the first time calling him by that 
 name, " I value your kindness as I should ; and think not, in declining 
 to accept your generous offers, that I am cold to your deserving. Far 
 from it. If any happiness were reserved for me, I feel that it would 
 be in uniting my Avrecked and wretched fortunes to yours. JSTay 
 more ; had I enough for both, and that hereafter this blighted heart 
 could ever love again, I would press you to accept my wealth and my 
 affections ; for I might safely conclude that with him who offered a 
 husband's protection to my wretchedness, under altered circumstances, 
 I could not fail in being happy. But no ; I will not swamp your 
 young fortunes with mine. My resolution is already formed — and we 
 must part." 
 
 Again the ardent L-ishman pressed his suit upon the wanderer ; but, 
 true to her determination, the fosterer's overtures were gratefully but 
 firmly rejected. 
 
 " We have yet," she said with a sigh^ " three long long miles to 
 travel. Oh! how weary will they be ! — for my heart grows heavier 
 and heavier stiU ! — Ha ! what mischief is abroad ? Look — yonder 
 stands that ruffian Jew — and see, he points his finger to this window." 
 
 " Wlio and what is the scoundrel?" inquii'ed the fosterer, 
 
 " I cannot tell," returned the girl. " He joined a stroUing party, 
 from which I separated ere I met you. They are sought by outcasts 
 like him and me. Another vagabond who accompanied him, in a 
 drunken quarrel, taxed the Jew with being familiarized to every crime, 
 and added, that he was a returned convict. What his designs regarding 
 me were I cannot tell. When I left the wandering company, he fol- 
 lowed — but, thank Heaven ! you came— and if he meant me harm, 
 your protection saved me." 
 
 In the mean time, the Jew had disappeared, and Mark Antony 
 endeavoured to persuade his companion that this second meeting was 
 accidental. The girl shook her head. Steps ascended the stairs, the 
 door was unceremoniously opened, and ]VIr. Montague entered the 
 room, attended by two men, who announced themselves to be officers 
 of justice. 
 
 The girl turned pale as death ; while the blood rushed to Mark 
 Antony's brows, as he stepped boldly between his companion and the 
 strangers. 
 
 " Fear nothing, love ! " exclaimed the fosterer. " By heaven ! I'll 
 murder the scoundrel on the spot, if he attempts to touch you with a 
 finger." 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAX. 107 
 
 ' <• I told you," remai-ked the Israelite, " what a desperate offender 
 he was. That's the man that robbed me of my purse, and that 'ere 
 woman, a pal of his, assisted." 
 
 " Infamous liai' ! " exclaimed the accused female ; while Mark An- 
 tony caught up the poker, and prepared for rebutting the accusation 
 with other proofs than argument. The constables called for assist- 
 ance ; the Jew retreated thi'ough the door ; and the sergeant, the 
 student, and the rat-catcher rushed up-stairs, followed by the host 
 of idlers who ai'e ever found loitering about the precincts of an 
 Irish inn. 
 
 A scene of indescribable confusion succeeded. All asked questions, 
 to which none woidd vouchsafe a reply. The Jew solemnly protested 
 he had been robbed ; the accused indignantly repelled the charge of 
 felony ; while the constables insisted that all concerned shoidd imme- 
 diately repair to the residence of a neighbouring magistrate, there to 
 be dealt with as appertained to justice. The whole pai-ty accordingly 
 set forth to undergo -the ordeal of the law's inqiury. Mai-k Antony 
 and his fair friend, under the especial patronage of their quondam 
 road-companions — the sergeant, the student, and the rat-catcher ; and 
 the Israelite aided, counselled, and consoled by the village Dogberries, 
 to whom, in the event of a conviction, the Jew had been, as Jews 
 generally ai-e, most liberal — in promise. 
 
 On reaching the domicile of the Justice, the posse comitaUis halted 
 in front of the haU door ; for, as IMr. Blundel had just fabricated a 
 fourth tumbler, and the water was of consistent heat, some time must 
 elapse before the mixture could be conveniently disposed of. At last, 
 the prisoners were summoned to the presence ; and the accused, being 
 didy arraigned, the complainant was invited to detail the wrongs he 
 had received. 
 
 At his first interview with the fosterer, the Jew had endeavoured 
 to sink as much of his slang as he could effect ; but now his own 
 character Avas to be supported, and his address to the seat of justice 
 was in the peculiar parlance of his people. 
 
 " Vy, ye see, yer vorchip, that my name is Eeuben Levi. I'm a 
 jeweller by trade, and an honest man along of it. I comes to Hierland 
 with some goods; sells vot I had at a loss to get home agin; and 
 with five pomid in paper, and three guineas and a half in goold, I 
 was returnin to Dublin. If the money's mine, it's in a green silk 
 purse, and no mistake." 
 
 The Jew paused ; and a reference to Mark Antony's pocket con- 
 firmed the statement of j\Ii'. Montague. 
 
 " Veil, yer vorchip — ye sees I tells nothin but vots true — I was 
 joggin on by a lonely road, and who overtakes me but this young 
 voman, and that 'ere chap in the welveteen fie-for-shames. I twigged 
 them, yer vorchip, at once ; for he's von of the swell mob, and she no 
 better than she ought to be. Veil, they fastens themselves upon me 
 for a while, until I sits down upon a ditch to rest myself, and ged rid 
 on 'em. Veil, down she pops upon mj knee and asks me for a trifle, 
 while her pal .comes behind, and di-aws me clean as a whistle. I tries 
 to grip my pm-se, but — he's a milling cove, yer vorchip — and in he pops 
 
108 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 his bunch of fives, darkens tliis here hje, and laves me flat upon my 
 back. Off they goes Ukc winky — and when I comes to myself, neither 
 robber nor voman was to be seen." 
 
 The easy audacity with which the Hebrew impostor detailed the 
 particulars of the alleged robbery, actually paralyzed the accused. The 
 sergeant looked confounded ; the student shook his head ; and the 
 rat-catcher alone listened with inci'edulity, and preserved his faith 
 unshaken. As to the worthy justice, no doubt of the fosterer's guilt 
 remained upon his mind ; and aU that puzzled him was, whether he 
 coidd safely convict the girl as an accomplice. The fatal order to 
 issue the mittimus was on his lips, when the Israelite addi'cssed him- 
 self to " the king's poor esquire," and, as it appeared, it was mercifully 
 in arrest of judgment. 
 
 " In speaking a few words to the worthy beak, I mean his vorchipful 
 honour, I hopes the veakness of my caracter wiU be excused, vich vos 
 in bein too tender-hearted from the werry cradel. I vould'nt jist 
 wish to have the girl clapped under the screw, nor even that 'ere chap 
 should be lagged for life, though he's fly to everything, from thimble- 
 riggin to wilful murder. So, as the blunt's got, if yer honour will let 
 the voman off, and only shop the cove as stole the pm'se for the trifle 
 of a fortnight, I'll not insist on prosecution." 
 
 While the unblushing Jew was delivering his humane appeal, the 
 fosterer grew pale with rage, the girl red with indignation. There 
 appeared nothing but "warder and fetters for the Graeme" as the 
 justice was in the very act of affixing his sign-manual to the committal, 
 when lo ! a change came over the scene — the sound was heard of 
 wheels stopped suddenly — and next moment, a young man, in a sailor's 
 dress, sprang into the room, and exclaiming, " Julia, my lost one, have 
 I found thee ! " — folded the Avanderer in his arms, and pressed her 
 ardently to his heart. On the giid, the appearance of the stranger 
 seemed to have produced emotions of greater violence ; she uttered a 
 wild shriek, fainted on the sailor's breast, and was borne by her new 
 jDrotector in a state of insensibiUty from the hall of justice. 
 
 At this imexpected denoiiment all present appeai'ed to be as- 
 tounded. The fosterer was lost in astonishment, and the magistrate 
 equally sui'prised to see a person on whom he was about to deal 
 according to law, summarily removed from his jurisdiction, and by a 
 novel proceeding, by no means so formal and yet very like a habeas 
 corpus. 
 
 WhUe this grand scena was being enacted, a quieter, but not less 
 interesting episode was in progress in the corner ; but we must leave 
 the reader in tem^Dorary suspense, as, with this occmTcnce, we intend 
 to commence another chapter. 
 
# 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 109 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE TABLES TURNED — TUE SAILOr's STORY. 
 
 As thou urgest justice, be assur'd 
 
 Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desir'st." 
 
 Shakspere. 
 
 Proverbs may be musty matters ; but take them generally, and how 
 admirably do they establish facts ! " Between the cup and lip slips are 
 frequent ;" and, as events turned out, Mr. Montague, of comic celebrity, 
 was fated to point that moral. 
 
 Nothing could have been attended with more decisive success than 
 the villany of the Jew. His boundless audacity had imposed upon a 
 weak-headed country gentleman ; and the information he had acquired 
 at the Cock and Punch-bowl by listening at the wanderei-'s door, enabled 
 him to describe the property, alleged to have been stolen, with an accu- 
 racy that induced the greater number of those who heard the charge, 
 to believe the story of the robbeiy confirmed. The hour of reveno-c 
 was come. The girl, deprived of her protector, and thrown loose upon 
 the world, would once more be at his mercy ; and the Jew's dark eyes 
 brightened with fiendish delight. The man who had crossed his schemes, 
 and treated him with contumely, would now be tenant of a prison ; 
 and the woman who had turned from him with contempt, and rejected 
 his overtures with abhorrence, might soon be taught to feel that hatred 
 often follows fast upon the steps of love. 
 
 But what appeared to the Jew to be the hour of his triumph, proved 
 unexpectedly, that of retribution ; for to mortal villany Providence 
 assigns a limit. 
 
 The sudden appearance of the sailor, and the confusion it had occa- 
 sioned, prevented the entrance of a second personage from being gene- 
 rally observed. Indeed, he slided so quietly into the room, that he 
 seemed modestly endeavouring to avoid any particular attention. The 
 stranger was a stout well-proportioned man, of middle height, and 
 apparently of middle age ; and from di'ess and appearance, it would 
 have been impossible to guess to what order of the body politic he 
 especially appertained. Except for a certain wide-awake expression 
 of the face, he might have passed current for a mail-coachman, a pub- 
 lican, or a drover. Probably, to a horse-dealer he bore the closest 
 affinity. He was dressed in a blue coat with gilt buttons, and exten- 
 sive skirts and pockets. His vest was scaidet ; his unmentionables 
 drab kerseymere, to which jockey -boots v.-ere added. Pound his neck 
 a spotted silk handkerchief was knotted ; and a white hat, with a re- 
 markably broad brim, completed his costume. 
 
•no . THE FORTUKES CF 
 
 ' Every eye had been directed upon tlie sailor and the companion of 
 Mark Antony ; but he of the scarlet vest seemed unmoved by a scene 
 that had interested all besides. Indeed, he was a person on whom eiFect, 
 such as Napoleon would term " theatrical," would have been absolutely 
 thrown away. His feeUngs were impervious even to a fainting fit ; 
 and he had no more sentiment about him than an oyster. Gliding 
 behind the backs of the spectators, he reached the spot whence 
 Mr. Montague had delivered his address to the man of worship, and 
 stooping to the Jew's ear, whispered something which possessed the 
 charm of a spell. To the very lip, colour fled from the sallow counte- 
 nance of the Israelite. He appeared as motionless as if he had been 
 mesmerized ; while by a sort of sleight-of-hand the red- vested operator 
 united his wrists together, quickly as if it had been done by magic, 
 next moment it was discovered that ]\Ii-. Montague was manacled. 
 The stranger then handed a paper to the gentleman upon the bench, 
 with a request that he would " back that warrant for the apprehension 
 of the prisoner, Ikey Lazarus." - 
 
 Of all the descendants of " the Shallows " Mr. Bhindell looked the 
 silliest. At last, however, he managed to comprehend that the Israelite 
 was a returned convict, and added his signature to the order for the 
 Jew's arrest. The court, " in most admired disorder," was broken up ; 
 the runner retiring with his captive ; the sergeant and his companions 
 to finish a compotation from which they had been unexpectedly dis- 
 turbed ; and the fosterer to seek some tidings of his lost mistress, who, 
 as he was informed, had been removed by the sailor in a carriage to 
 the inn. 
 
 When consciousness returned, the poor wanderer found herself in 
 the same apartment from which, not an hom' since, she had been 
 removed on a charge of felony. She unclosed her eyes. Was it an 
 illusion ? A look of love was bent upon her pallid countenance — and 
 a long lost brother held her to his heart. 
 
 " William," she murmui'ed. 
 
 " Dear, dear, Julia," returned the sailor, with a kiss. 
 
 " Am I waking ? — are you alive, WiUiam ?" 
 
 " Av, girl," replied the sailor, " and sound and hearty as English 
 oak itself." 
 
 " 'Twas said you were dead — that you had been slain in battle. 
 How came you here ? how have you escaped ?" 
 
 " The story's long, my sister. I'll tell it to you presently. Enough ; 
 the squall has now blown over ; and, d — ^ — n it — we shall all be happy 
 once more." 
 
 " No, no, no — I shall never know peace of mind. Would that I 
 could be forgiven !" aad tears rolled in fast succession down the poor 
 wanderer's cheeks. 
 
 " Forgiven !" exclaimed the sailor. " For what, Julia ? — For being 
 swindled by the false story of a betrayer ; and afterwards, with more 
 than woman's love, clinging to the scoundi'el who deceived you, until 
 the grave closed upon liis crimes." 
 
 " I have indeed," said the girl, with a sigh, " suffered for my offend- 
 ing. Oh, when I think of it, it almost maddens me ! To have 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. Ill 
 
 deserted my poor father, broken the old man's heart, and by my mis- 
 conduct brought him to the grave." She paused, for sobs choked her 
 utterance. 
 
 " You didn't, God bless ye, break his heart," exclaimed the sailor. 
 " Had you run off a dozen times, he wouldn't have mattered it a 
 stranded rope-yarn. Is o, no, it was other disappointments that finished 
 uncle Josh." 
 
 "Finished uncle Josh ?" inquired the wanderer. 
 
 " Ay ; he's gone to Davy's locker, and the village has been quiet 
 ever since. Thi-ee clients compromised their suits within one term ; 
 that killed our uncle, and Josh never raised his head afterwards." 
 
 No, no, William — my father — my dear, dear, fathei' — " she made 
 a pause, and then, in a suppressed voice, added, " Is he not dead too ?" 
 
 " Dead !" repUed the sailor. " He must have died since morning. 
 I left him at a town ten miles off, while I came in pursuit of you, in 
 company with a Bow-street officer, who was on another track, but 
 offered to assist in your recovery." 
 
 " Then," exclaimed the girl, with breatldess haste, " the death I 
 read in a torn newsi:)aper — " 
 
 " "Was that of our loving uncle. I suppose it was George Gripp 
 that inserted the old boy's departure ; for I believe the baiUff was 
 the only being who regretted him." 
 
 " And shall I once more, Wdliam, see my dear, dear, father ?" said 
 the actress. 
 
 '•' Ay, Julia, and before you sleep, the old man's kiss shall welcome 
 you, and his blessing seal your pardon." 
 
 To the hurried narrative of his sister, the warm-hearted sailor 
 listened with the deepest interest. The sufferings she had undergone ; 
 the death of her betrayer ; her deliverance from the Jew ; the kind- 
 ness of JMrs. O'Leaiy, and the generous protection of the fosterer, all 
 had their excitement, and elicited from William Rawhngs by turns an 
 execration or a burst of gratitude. No, wonder, therefore, that when 
 Mai-k Antony joined the wanderer and her new protector. Ids wel- 
 come was a warm one. And yet how mingled in Ufe's history is 
 pain and pleasui-e I — how soon is unexpected happiness dashed with 
 some latent regret ! The prospect of an immediate parting alloyed the 
 triumph of success. Neither Mark Antony nor the quarter-master's 
 daughter felt at ease ; and a similar cause of disquietude pressed heavily 
 upon the breast of both. Under different terms, the feeling was the 
 same ; the fosterer called it by the right name — love ; the lady by the 
 wrong one — gratitude. Had the hearts of both been analysed, the 
 chymist would have had results perfectly the same. 
 
 '•' William," said the sailor's sister, "you have not yet told me by 
 what strange fortunes, one beUeved to be dead so long, has been again 
 restored to those who love him. Oh ! how vividly docs that fatal even- 
 ing return to memory, when you left your sifter and your home. Alas ! 
 William, had you but known how desperately I was circumstanced, you 
 would not have deprived me of my brother and my ad^-iser." 
 
 " That unregretted relative," replied the sailor, " now in the grave, 
 occasioned the rash act I then committed. No shadow of blame could 
 
112 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 have attached itself to me ; for Avith the unfortunate homicide which 
 occurred that evening I was totally unconnected. My savage uncle, 
 who should have allayed my fears, alarmed me by hinting at the dis- 
 grace of incarceration ; and, with the full conviction of innocence, 
 I was weak enough to believe him. Hence, Julia, to evade an 
 imaginary indignity, I madly left my home — and that at a moment, too, 
 when my px-esence was most required. The adventures -which befell 
 me may interest you, my sister, and I shall briefly narrate them. 
 
 'Wbt Shallot's ^torg. 
 
 I need not tell you, Julia, that, with whatever apparent firmness I 
 might have taken leave of you, to tear myself from a home, a jjarent, 
 and a sister that I loved so fondly, was a trial which taxed my forti- 
 tude to its utmost extent. It is true, that I had been long weary of 
 inaction, and longing after those scenes of wild excitement which war 
 every day presents, and which to the ardent hincy of young minds are 
 always so engrossing. Yet I hesitated to take the step ; for, in my 
 pursuit of that phantom, glory, how many objects of affection must be 
 abandoned ! The accidental embarrassment arising from the smug- 
 gling outrage of the evening confirmed me in a course already hdf 
 resolved upon. I obeyed the impulse ; parted from jou, love ; and at 
 midnight found myself on board that gallant " thing of life," — a 
 British frigate. 
 
 Of her own noble class of vessels, the Harpy was among the finest ; 
 and she had a picked crew, and dashing commander. Ca3sar O'Brien 
 was an Irishman of humble family, and yet at the early age of twenty- 
 four, he found himself a post-captain. But to no underhand interest was 
 he indebted for his rapid preferment. His career had been gloriously 
 distinguished ; he could look back upon it with honest pride, and claim 
 every step he got on the score of professional deserving. Justly con- 
 sidered one of the ablest officers in the service, it was strange that 
 uiDon his merits his own crew held a divided opinion. The younger 
 portion declaimed him a man without a fault ; the older, however, dis- 
 covered a faihng in his character. — " The captain," they complained, 
 "had too muchjight in him. It was true, he had an Irishman's good 
 luck ; but, in the long run, it would bring him into trouble." 
 
 To you, Julia, the details of sea-life would have little interest. 
 We were stationed off the coast of France ; and from our captain's 
 daring character, he had been intrusted with a sort of roving com- 
 mission, and allowed to employ the frigate almost as he pleased. 
 During a six -months' cruise, nothing, for brilliancy or effect, could 
 exceed the services he had rendered to his country. Jn every French 
 harbour the Harpy's exploits were known and her captain's name 
 associated with those of England's most daring and fortunate com- 
 manders. 
 
 From the moment I entered the frigate as a volunteer, I had been 
 fortunate enough to become a favourite with Captain O'Brien. In a 
 successful night-attack upon a battery and privateer, in which we 
 
HECTOR HALLORAX. 113 
 
 dismantled tlie one, and cut out the other, my conduct was honouraLIj 
 mentioned by the first lieutenant, and the captain's clerk having been 
 killed on the occasion, I was promoted to fill the vacancy. In this 
 confidential situation I acquitted mysell' with credit — and to the hour 
 of his death, was treated by the Avarm-hearted L-ishman more like an 
 equal than an inferior. 
 
 The period of our cruise had expired, and an order came for 
 the frigate to return to England and refit. At sunset, the vessel 
 sent to relieve us was seen in the distance ; and before dark, she 
 had exchanged numbers with the Harpy. In all our gallant crew 
 not one heavy heart could have been discovered. After a daring and 
 successful cruise, next morning the frigate's head would be turned to 
 the wliite-clified island from which, for nine months, we had been 
 estranged; and all, from '-'the noblest captain iii the British fieet" to 
 the smallest ship-boy, felt the charm which attends a return to father- 
 laud, and slept to di-eam of " England, home, and beauty." 
 
 Three hundred men rested that night in full security — aud ho-.v 
 few were fated to see another sunset ! Morning dawned — the breeze 
 was light ; the ocean mists rose rapidly ; gradually the sea view en- 
 larged ; and every eye turned in that direction where the ship, arrived 
 from England, might be expected to present herself. At last, a sail was 
 announced from the mast-head, and the Harpy's coui'se was altered 
 towards the stranger's. Li half-an-hour, the ship in sight was pro- 
 claimed by the look-out men " a heavy frigate." The private signal 
 was made — some minutes passed — the signal was unanswered— and 
 every glass and eye were directed towards a ship now ascertained to 
 be an enemy, 
 
 111 a moment orders were given to crowd canvass on the frigate. 
 The drum beat to quarters ; the sails were accurately trimmed ; and, as 
 if she had determined to sustain her well-earned reputation to the last, 
 the Harpy dashed through the water gallantly — and for every tvro knots 
 the chase sailed, we went three. 
 
 TvTien the frigate was under a cloud of sail. Captain O'Brien retired 
 to his cabin to dress, leaving orders that the progress of the chase, 
 from time to time, should be reported. As he passed me, he touched 
 my arm and whispered me to foUow him. I did so. The captain 
 desired his servant to retire, put on his uniform, affixed a foreign 
 order to his breast, and, having unlocked a di-awer, he took from it 
 a sealed packet, and thus addressed me. 
 
 " Rawlings," he said, " from the hour you entered this frigate, I 
 liave remarked your character and conduct. From the Irigli opinion 
 I formed of both, I selected you to fill a place of trust, and I am now 
 about to give you what may be a last proof of confidence. 
 
 " I am the founder of my own fortune. My father was an humble 
 curate, not ' passing rich on forty pounds a year,' but poor as a 
 church-mouse, and my mother the daughter of a farmer. I was 
 born in one of tlie remotest villages on the western coast of Ireland ; 
 and, except the advantages of education — the only boon my jioor 
 father could bestow — I had nothing to distinguish me in boyhood 
 from the sons of the fishermen who inliabited our secluded handet. 
 
 X 
 
114 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Like thorn, the sea was the element I loved ; and, but for an accident, 
 like them also, I should have lived and died upon that element 
 unknown. 
 
 " One evening, when I was about twelve years old, a messtige came 
 from the only public-house the village boasted, to say that a sick 
 stranger had arrived and was most anxious to see a clergyman. The 
 summons was obeyed; and my father was introduced to an elderly 
 man, who seemed to be dangerously ill, and greatly exhausted 
 by his journey. He announced himself a lieutenant of a man-of- 
 war ; he had been for several years on the West-Lidia station ; was 
 now on leave of absence for bad health ; and was endeavouring to 
 reach a town at a considerable distance from our hamlet, to try whether 
 native air might not yet effect a cure. The exertion, however, had 
 been too much for him ; and on arriving at the public-house, he found 
 himself unable to proceed farther. 
 
 " The parson was a kind-hearted being, and as hospitable as he was 
 poor. The ale-house was noisy and uncomfortable, and he therefore 
 pressed the stranger to take up his residence at our cottage, where, 
 with quiet and care, it was probable that he might speedily come 
 round again. My father's invitation was accepted ; and in a few days 
 the invalid was so far restored as to be enabled to resume his 
 journey. He took his leave accordingly, gratefully acknowledging the 
 kindness and attention of my parents, to which he attributed his 
 recovery. 
 
 " A year passed — the stranger was forgotten; and our lonely villagers 
 had no events to excite them beyond every-day occupations. They 
 Avere removed from the cares and anxieties of busier life ; but, as 
 events proved, they were not secure from its common calamities. 
 
 " Typhus fever broke out in a neighbouring sea-port ; the crew of a 
 fishing-boat caught the infection, and introduced the terrible disease 
 into our crowded hamlet. Numbers became its victims ; and in the 
 same week both my parents died, and I was left upon the world 
 without any natural protector. 
 
 " On the evening of my father's funeral I was sent for to the public - 
 house, and there, to my surprise, I found the stranger who had been 
 my father's guest a year before. The sick lieutenant had been restored 
 to health, and was about to resume his professional duties. He had 
 been appointed to a ship ; but before he left the kingdom, he made our 
 village his line of route, that he might have an opportunity of thank- 
 ing my parents once more for past kindnesses. He found those who 
 succoured him in tlie grave, — their only child an orphan, and without 
 a relative Avho could aiford him protection or a home. 
 
 " A tear trickled down the cheek of the rough old sailor, as he 
 listened to the story of my destitution. 
 
 " ' And has he no friends, poor boy ?' inquired the lieutenant. 
 
 " ' None,' said the landlord, in reply. ' I believe he has not one 
 relative who could give him a second med, nor a friend who — " 
 
 " ' False, by Heaven !' exclaimed the tar. ' He has a friend who 
 will divide his last guinea with him ; and from this hour, I am tlie 
 orphan's father I' 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN. 115 
 
 " I must be brief. Lieutenant Oakley stopped that evening in the 
 village, and when he left it next morning I was his companion. He 
 was a rough, but warm-hearted sailor of the old school ; and, after a 
 yeai"'s probation, he succeeded in having me rated on the books of a 
 line-of-battle ship as midshipman. A few months afterwards, my 
 protector was killed in a boat alFair upon the coast of Spain — once 
 more I was left upon the world — and at fifteen years of age I had 
 to fight with fortune as I could. 
 
 " Rawlings, you know now the story of my early life. "Without a 
 being to guide my boyhood, I was flung on the wide ocean of exist- 
 ence. The sword has been my talisman, and I have hewn my own 
 road to fame. My very destitution placed me in fortune's track. 
 I had no gentle ties to bind me to the world : if I died, none would 
 shed a teai- : what, then, was life to me ? — A nothing ! I staked it 
 with a gambler's recklessness, and I have earned for myself the name 
 that birth denied me." 
 
 A noise on deck was heard. " Stay here," he said ; " I wiU return 
 immediately." After a few minutes. Captain O'Brien re-entered the 
 cabin, his face beaming with delight, and its expression betokening the 
 confidence of anticipated victory. 
 
 " The Harpy goes nobly through it I" he exclaimed. " Blow, sweet 
 breeze I blow for another hour steadily — bring me alongside that 
 splendid frigate — and then. Dame Fortune ! thy spoiled child shall tax 
 thee no further." 
 
 He paused ; took two or three turns across the cabin, and then 
 resumed the strain of former conversation. 
 
 " Time presses — and now, Rawlings, for another disclosure. Thi'ce 
 years ago I retm-ned to England, — ' The happy deed that gilds my 
 humble name' was done — I obtained promotion for the service — 
 and wherever I appeared, flattering tokens of popular approbation 
 were heaped on me wdth unmeasured liberality. Men cheered me as 
 I passed, and — prouder honour — woman smiled upon the daring sailor. 
 To the highest cii'cles the curate's son was introduced : my passport, 
 a coup cle sabre, which finished a French captain, and enabled me to 
 lay hands on the halliards of a frigate's ensign, before those of fifty 
 stout boarders as myself. I met a woman : she was older than myself 
 a year or two ; noble by birth ; and for beauty, if you sought England 
 over — and that is beauty's home — you could not find her peer. She was 
 followed and worshipped: the proudest claimed her smiles, and the noblest 
 coronet Avas offered for her acceptance. Chance introduced me to her 
 father ; and I was a casual visitor at his house, with men distinguished 
 for both high birth and unbounded wealth. TToidd it be credited 
 that I was preferred by that proud lady to all who sought her hand ? 
 I — the ocean child — before a crowd of nobles — the humble sailor 
 loved by the fiancee of a duke ! 'Tis over ; — she is another's now : 
 and with the heart that fate forbade being united to mine, the mutual 
 secret rests. 
 
 " You know enough to understand the service I require. If in 
 the approaching conflict my brief career shall close, the story of my 
 love must perish -svith me. In this sealed packet there ai"e memorials, 
 
 i2 
 
116 THE FORTU^■ES OF 
 
 that, living, I could not part with., and, in death, must be destroyed. 
 It is leaded — and should I fall, consign it to the same element 
 where I shall find a grave. Farewell ! I feel a strange assurance, 
 that with this day's events, whatever they may prove, my history 
 is doomed to terminate. No matter ! Where could it close more 
 gloriously ?" — 
 
 He said, and quitted the cabin for the deck ; and when I had sccm-ed 
 the sealed packet in my breast, I followed him. 
 
 The chase had now assumed an interest almost impossible to be 
 imagined. Both frigates, in the parlance of the sea, were " staggering 
 under a press of canvass ;" and the goal for which each vessel strained 
 was a small harbour, with a narrow entrance through the centre of a 
 reef of rocks. There, the Frenchman expected to find his safety — and 
 we endeavoured to cut him ofl' from this his haven of inglorious refuge. 
 We were still two gun-shots astern— the harbour not a league off — 
 the wind began to fail — and as the Harpy sailed best with a stiff breeze, 
 we lost the advantage we had formerly possessed in speed. Indeed, the 
 Frenchman's escape seemed almost certain. He must gain the 
 anchorage before we could bring him to close action ; and, daring as 
 our captain was, surely he would not venture into a roadstead on every 
 side surrounded with heavy batteries, and approachable through a 
 narrow opening in a reef of rocks ? 
 
 Alas ! Fortune may be tried too frequently — and even her chosen 
 fiivourites v.-ill prove her at times capricious. Again, the breeze 
 freshened, and the Harpy drew fast a-head. The vessels were now 
 within cannon range — the chase-guns of both had opened — and at the 
 third discharge from ours, the main-top-mast of the Frenchman came 
 down. It is'probable that fatal success induced our captain to take 
 the step he did. Instead of bringing his frigate to the wind, he held 
 his course, and desperately ran into a hostile harbour from which 
 it was decreed we never should return. 
 
 The result of this rash act was brilliant as it proved disastrous. 
 After a close engagement of forty minutes, the enemy's frigate was 
 totally dismasted, and driven — a wreck — upon the rocks; and Captain 
 O'Brien having completed her destruction, endeavoured to work the 
 Harpy out. 
 
 For a time we suffered but trifling injury from the cross-fire of the 
 batteries, and it was almost certain that we should weather the tail 
 of the reef, and clear the entrance of the harbour. The frigate was 
 in stays. " She'll do it easily," exclaimed the master ; while Captain 
 O'Briefi, with a smile of exultation, whispered in my ear, " What 
 tliink you, Eawlings, of the fortunes of the curate's son ? Hold on 
 the packet — my star has saved us I" Alas ! his exultation was but 
 short-lived. A thirty-two-pound shot struck us as he spoke : the 
 foretop-mast went over the side — we missed stays, fell off to lee- 
 ward, and settled on the reef, within musket-range of the heaviest 
 battery. 
 
 The seas struck the vessel so fast and heavily that it v.-as quile 
 apparent she would speedily go to pieces. The captain fell mortally 
 wounded. Ho turned a dying look to me : I understood its silent 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 117 
 
 order; and the packet which contained the memorials of his secret 
 love was committed to the deep. 
 
 In a few minutes afterwards, the fate of all on board the Harpy was 
 decided. A lofty swell came rolling in — the disabled frigate was 
 lifted off the reef — she fell over into deep water, settled, and went 
 down ; and in her shattered hull, the dead, the dying, and the living 
 found a common grave ; for, with the exception of myself and six 
 others, not another soul of that gallant crew escaped. We saved our- 
 selves on floating portions of the wreck, to be picked up the same 
 evening, and made prisoners. 
 
 "\Miat calamitous events had one brief day produced I On the pre- 
 ceding evening, how happily had I sought my hammock, home in my 
 fancy, and you, Julia, in my dreams ! How was all changed I frigate 
 and crew buried together in the ocean deeps, and in the very moment of 
 their triumph ! — and the poor handful that survived, consigned to a 
 captivity so hopeless, that to its duration no limit could be assigned ! 
 
 We were marched into the interior, and secured in an old fortress, 
 already over-crowded with squalid creatures, half-clad, half-starved, 
 and to whom, generally, death would have been a deliverance — the only 
 one, indeed, that they, poor wretches, could look to with any thing like 
 certainty. At first, I thought I should have sunk into despair ; but it 
 is strange how soon men will accommodate themselves to misery. 
 Gradually the cup of suffering lost a portion of its bitterness ; and in the 
 laugh, at first torturous to my ears, at last I could also join. " Let 
 none despond, let none despair" — there is no mortal evil without 
 its r.emedy. Before a month passed, the elasticity of my spirit returned 
 — another current of thought occupied my mind — my very dreams were 
 eno-rossed with projects of escape — and every bird that flitted across 
 the prison walls seemed to invite me to become as free as it was. 
 
 The governor was a soldier of the republic, wounded and worn 
 out, and for past services entrusted with the custody of the prisoners 
 of war collected in the fortress. He was a strict disciplinarian ; stern 
 in enforcing obedience to the regulations of the place, but kind at 
 heart, and easily conciliated. After my first despondency had abated, 
 I endeavoui-ed to resign myself to my fate ; and by conforming to the 
 rules which Captain St. Simon had laid down for due maintenance 
 of order, I became rather a favourite with the commandant. 
 
 No one could question the bravery of Captain St. Simon ; for, among 
 other daring acts he had performed, he had married a woman thirty 
 years younger than himself. The lady was very pretty, very gay, 
 loved fetes and dancing, and detested the dulness of the fortress. One 
 child had blessed the "marriage -bed of the commandant : she was a 
 sweet o-irl of three years ; and in her the affections of both parents 
 seemed* to centre. Indeed, they idolized the child: and none could 
 know^ little Claudine and not love her. 
 
 To children I have been ever partial; and with the governor's I 
 soon became a favourite. I never passed Claudine Avithout a kiss. 
 My attentions gratified the parents. Madame rewarded them with a 
 smile, and the old republican, with long narratives of all that he had 
 done at Lodi and Marengo. 
 
118 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Upon the unfortunates within the ^Aace, the effects of captivity were 
 vai'iousl}' exliibited. Some bore confinement with apparent indiffer- 
 ence, wliile others evinced a sullen despondency. One man struck me as 
 being more miserable than any in the fortress besides ; and the fixed 
 melancholy visible in his air and countenance induced me to inquire who 
 he wa^, and ask the cause of his being more wretched than the rest. 
 
 His name was Aylmer, and he was a captain of di-agoous. In 
 returning from the Peninsida, the merchantman in which he came 
 home a passenger had been taken by a privateer ; and, to render that 
 accident the more distressing, the errand that brought him to England 
 was to maiTy a beautifid girl, to whom for years he had been passion- 
 ately attached. Hitherto, pecuniary considerations forbade the union ; 
 but by the death of a wealthy relative that obstacle was removed, 
 "^'niat must have been his disappointment, when, almost in sight of the 
 home of her he loved so ardently, fate marred his promised happiness, 
 and dashed from the very lip the cup of bliss ! 
 
 Xo wonder, then, that Aylmer bore this visitation with impatience. 
 Months wore away ; interest had been used to accomplish an exchange ; 
 and now a hope was held out that this much desired event woidd be 
 speedily effected. Once more the captive smiled ; the colour returned 
 to his faded cheek, and his brow was no longer contracted. Alas for 
 woman's faith ! News came from England, that she whom he all but 
 idolized had forgotten the being who loved so truly, — and — that she 
 was married to another ! 
 
 From that moment Aylmer never smiled. His heart was seared ; 
 his hopes of happiness were withered. He became a gloomy misau- 
 thi'ope ; prowled through the dark passages of the prison by himself : 
 rejected every overture at intimacy ; and that which had once been a 
 gentle heart, seemed to lose all sympathy with the human race, and 
 become to all its sjiecies wolfish and immitigable. 
 
 There stood at one angle of the fortress an ancient tower of immense 
 height, which, for many miles, overlooked the surrounding country. 
 By a winding staircase the top of the building could be gained ; the 
 roof was flat, and encircled by a parapet not quite breast-high ; and, 
 as the view from the summit was varied and extensive, prisoners, who 
 would go through the labour of ascending seven flights of granite stairs, 
 amused a portion of monotonous captivity by gazing in listless idleness 
 on scenes of busy life, which, to their state of thrall, presented a sad 
 and sickening contrast. This tower was a favourite retreat of Captain 
 Aylmer — and over the parapet of the iX)of he would lean alone for 
 hours, muttering gloomily to himself, or communing with sad thoughts 
 in silence. 
 
 Often, when Claudine was in my arms, I observed, that in passing 
 lis, the expression of Aylmer's eyes was absolutely malignant ; and I 
 marvelled that a face so innocently beautiful as that of the chUd of the 
 commandant, did not, like David's harp, exert a gentle influence, and 
 speak peace to the dark spirit of the cajitive. It was strange also, 
 tliat, by some curious impulse, Claudine involuntarily recoiled from 
 this melancholy man, and that while he continued in sight, she would 
 cling closely to my bosom as if there she was seeking for protection. 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAX. 119 
 
 It was tlie eveniug of a siiltiy day, and the lioiir was come when, 
 by prison regidations, the detenus were expected to repair to their 
 respective wards, and there be locked up for the night. On my way 
 to the gallery where I slept, I had to cross an esplanade in front of the 
 governor's house. Claudiue noticed me from the wiudoAv, and i-an 
 out to say " good night." I carried her a few paces in my arms, 
 kissed the pretty child, set her down, and received from the fond 
 mother a gracious nod of approbation. The di-um ruffled, it was the 
 signal for the prisoners to fiill in for roll-call, and I hurried on. 
 Suddenly a piercing shriek arrested me. I turned round ; Madame 
 St. Simon had uttered it, and one movement of her arm told the cause, 
 Aylmer was running madly across the esplanade in the direction of 
 the old tower, with Claudine struggling in his embrace. 
 
 I dashed after him at headlong speed. He sprang into the build- 
 ing and bounded up the stairs — Claudine's wild screams continued — 
 and I heard her calling " William I " Although Aylmer had cleared 
 one flight of steps before I entered, I overtook him as he jumped with 
 his intended victim on the roof; seized him with one arm, and twisting 
 my hand into his collar, half strangled him, and forced him to 
 di'op the child. Upon me the full fury of his rage was turned, and a 
 deadly struggle commenced. In height and weight we were equally 
 matched ; but liis maniac strength was superhuman. After a despe- 
 rate conflict of a minute, both came heavily to the ground locked in. 
 each other's arms, the madman uppermost. 
 
 In turn, he attempted to choke me, and I as desperately resisted. 
 Apparently, the phrenzy of his rage rendered him insensible to pain ; 
 for though I caught his hand within my teeth until they met, the 
 maniac would not let go his murderous hold. My strength failed, 
 I found myself fainting, another minute and his triumph would 
 have been complete, but fortunately, an alarm had been given that 
 brought assistance, and three of the gendarmes who formed the 
 prison guard, rushed on the tower roof with di'awn swords, tore 
 Aylmer away, and endeavoured to secure him. 
 
 With a marvellous effort the madman shook his assailants off, and 
 answered their order to surrender with a laugh of wild derision — 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" he shouted, "you fancy that Ayhner will be a 
 prisoner. TeU your commander, that if that sailor fellow had not 
 marred my scheme of vengeance, his fail* girl would have been what in 
 another moment I shall be — a shattered mass of lifeless flesh — and now 
 for the leap of liberty ! Ha, ha ! " he roared out convulsively, and, 
 with a demon's laugh, before any could lay hands upon him, the maniac 
 vaulted across the platform of the tower, and we heard, some twenty 
 seconds afterwards, the dull sound his lifeless body made as it fell 
 on the paved court below. 
 
 I had received some severe bruises in the deadly struggle with 
 the unfortunate madman ; and my throat and neck were blackened 
 by the pressure of his knuckles. The gendarmes supported me 
 to the governor's house, wine was given me, and the surgeons of 
 the fortress were called in. From Madame, I received abundantly 
 the ardent tokens of a woman's gratitude in tears and kisses, while 
 
1*20 THE FOUTUNES OF 
 
 the old republican, lujr husband, held my hand in his, and, with the 
 speecldess eloquence of the eye, thanked nie in the silence of a heart too 
 full to give utterance to its feelings, for saving the treasm-e of his 
 soul. 
 
 No wonder then, that with nie the rigour of imprisonment was 
 abated, and that I was now a captive but in name. At the gover- 
 nor's table a cover was laid for me, the old man treating me 
 as he would have done a son ; and Niua, as his wife was named, 
 regarding me as a brother. Of course I felt the kindness evinced b}' 
 both ; and I might have been supposed to be the happiest captive in 
 the fortress. Yet the yearning after home continued ; and many a 
 sigh told Nina and her husband, that notwithstanding their efforts to 
 remove it, " a sickening void was aching in the breast." 
 
 " William," said the old republican, as he passed the wine-flask 
 over, " Why have you been so dispirited of late ? Is it within my 
 power to make you happier ? Have you any thing to ask for ?" 
 
 I kept silence. 
 
 Nina's eyes filled — " Speal^, William I speak without reserve." 
 
 A blackbird was hanging in his cage beside the open casement. 
 
 " What would that captive ask for," I replied, " could he but 
 make known his wishes ? " 
 
 '•' I understand you," said the governor ; " and what you sigh after 
 is almost the only boon beyond my poAver of granting. For liberty, 
 the appeal must be made to the highest individual in the empire, and 
 let me at once apprise you, that tltere you would find the ear of mercy 
 closed. You seem astonished — listen, and wonder then will cease. 
 
 " Our prison regulations are framed, in some degree, according to 
 the system of our general police ; and the character and career of those 
 committed to my charge are carefully recorded. To the safe custody 
 of those who have been daring and successfid, my attention is especially 
 directed ; and while wdth a nameless man an exchange is effected 
 without much diflicidty, he, who if free, might prove a troublesome 
 enemy, is rarely restored to liberty. Your frigate was the terror of 
 our coast. Your captain bore a reputation second to none among the 
 most dai-ing and dangerous of your naval adventurers. You are noted 
 in our prison record as having won your leader's favour, by assisting 
 in some bold exploit that I do not recollect at present. Believe me, my 
 dear boy, it Avould be hopeless to expect that you, and spirits like 
 yourself, would be allowed an opportunity of harassing the coast of 
 France a second time. I go to make my prison returns to-morrow. 
 Would that I might venture the experiment of getting your name 
 included in the next cartel with any prospect of success ! Oh ! no, no, 
 it were idle — it were hopeless altogether." 
 
 That night when I retired to my cot, I felt the sad conviction that 
 notliing but escape could ever effect my deliverance from the gloomy 
 fortress, in which, it would appear that for life I was fated to remain 
 immured. 
 
 The next morning passed in the dull monotony of confinement. 
 I supped Avith Nina and her child. The commander was to be absent 
 for two days, and when Claudine retired to bed, Madame St. Simon 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAX. 121 
 
 and I were left together. Latterlj I had observed a change in Nina's 
 manner. There was not the same freedom that formerly liad marked 
 our intercourse, and, while kinder than ever, I fancied that her 
 gaiety was assumed, and her spirits forced and unnatural. Since 
 the evening of poor Aylmer's suicide, I had been transferred to a small 
 chamber attached to the governor's dwelling, was exem2:)ted from 
 attending roll-call, and left consequently with unrestrained liberty, to 
 wander through the prison where I pleased. It struck eleven, the 
 fortress was quiet, the guard set, and I rose, to leave Nina, and 
 repair to my own chamber. 
 
 " Good night," I said, "my sister ;" for by that name I had been 
 permitted to address the lady of the governor. 
 
 " Sto^T — William," she replied, in evident embarrassment, " I wish 
 to talk with you alone." 
 
 I sate down again beside her. 
 
 " I have remarked how aixlently you are longing after freedom. 
 St. Simon cannot honourably effect it ; and a soldier's honour, 
 William,"— 
 
 " Should be dearer far to him than life." 
 
 " I know you feel the sentiment, and I am convinced that it guides 
 your acts, my brother." 
 
 " I hope so, Nina." 
 
 " And surely it should guide 77ihie — a soldier's wife — a soldier's 
 orphan. I never told you my short history, "William." 
 
 " No, dear Nina." 
 
 " I am the daughter of a sous-lieutenant, who was killed in the Low 
 Countries while I was yet a baby. Dj-ing, he committed me to a 
 comrade's care ; and faithfully that comrade discharged what he con- 
 sidered a sacred duty. I was tenderly nursed when young, and when 
 I was old enough, placed as a boarder in a convent. At fifteen, my 
 benefactor's sister, with whom I had resided for the two preceding 
 years, died suddenly. I was thus left, to a certain extent, without pro- 
 tection ; and Captain St. Simon offered me the only one a man can 
 give — the sacred one of husband. In our marriage, love could not 
 have had aught to do. He was fifty; I, fifteen. He, for honour- 
 able motives had offered to make me his, and I, through gratitude, con- 
 sented. Five years have passed. All the happiness wliich could be 
 expected from a union so unequal in point of years, has been mine. 
 If I said I were happy as a wife, I should say what was untrue. But 
 am I not the consort of a brave old man, the mother of a child, in 
 whom all my love is centered ? " 
 
 " And with these objects of affection, Nina, you must be happy." 
 
 " I was," she answered, with a sigh. 
 
 " TTVis ? Nina. Nay, nay, yoic are." 
 
 " No, WiUiam ; strong in gratitude to my husband, I feel a woman's 
 weakness in the heart, and love and duty by turns obtain its master3\ 
 William, neither you nor I have yet seen two-and-twenty summei's ; 
 and at that age, friendship is too close akin to love to be encouraged. 
 My husband dare not assist you to escape — / dare, and ?vill. Prudence 
 tells us to separate ; and the act that would sully the honest reputation 
 
122 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 of the old soldier, is not dishonourable in his wife. Yes — it shall be done. 
 I have already devised means for your deliverance, and when my plan 
 is fully matured, you shall know all. Farewell. Let us not meet in 
 future but in my husband's presence." She stooped her cheek to me, 
 I kissed it, next moment she quitted the supper-room, and I returned 
 to my chamber, to marvel how much strength and weakness, principle 
 and passion, can be united in a woman's heart ! 
 
 The following day the governor returned. I, as usual, took my 
 place at the dinner-table, and Nina met me with smiles. She seemed 
 perfectly at ease, I, also, exerted myself to be cheerful, and none 
 would have suspected that secret love was lurking in the bosoms of 
 us both. 
 
 " I would that you had witnessed the review," said the old soldier. 
 " It was, indeed, a splendid spectacle. And the Emperor looked so 
 delighted as the troops filed past ! Well he might, a nobler or more 
 perfect corps d'armee never was collected. Egad, the sight warmed 
 this old blood again ; and I think tiiere's stuff in me for another 
 campaign. Will you, William, take charge of Madame and Claudine?" 
 said the commandant, laugliingly. I made some indifferent reply — 
 Nina's eye met mine — it seemed to say, the charge would have been a 
 dangerous one. 
 
 We heard the inner gate of the fortress open, a horse's feet clattered 
 along the pavement, and, in a short time, a chasseur a cheval pre- 
 sented himself, and delivered a despatch to the commandant. 
 
 The moment the seal was broken the old man's eye turned to me. 
 " It is," he said, " an answer to the memorial I handed to the 
 Emperor yesterday. I petitioned for your liberty, William ; and 
 stated, in as warm language as I coidd, the grounds on which I asked 
 the favour. I know, even from the promptness of the reply, that my 
 application has been rejected. Well, it is only what I was prepared 
 for. Let us read the terms of the refusal. Ha ! I know the hand- 
 writing ; it is that of my old comrade, Duroc. 
 
 " ' I am desired, by his Majesty the Emperor, to acknowledge the 
 receipt of a petition from Captain St. Simon. Its prayer, that the 
 English sailor, William Hawlings, shall be set at liberty, is hereby 
 lyeremptorily rejected.'' 
 
 " I thought so," said the commandant with a sigh, as he let the 
 paper fall upon the floor. A deep and painful silence succeeded, 
 wliile Claudine picked the letter up and handed it to her mother. 
 
 " Read it, Nina — we know the worst." 
 
 The lady complied, taking up the perusal of the document at the 
 point where her husband had stopped. " ' But from the moment this 
 order comes to hand, give the gallant Englishman the enclosed bill, 
 and let the preserver of the soldier's child receive freedom from ^le hand 
 of her father.' See*! the initial of the great Napoleon is annexed, — 
 and a note for five hundred francs ! You are free, William.- May 
 Heaven's blessings light upon our gracious Emperor ! " And Nina flung 
 herself upon my breast. She wept — w^ere her tears those of love or joy ? 
 
 I must be bi-ief, Julia. By the first cartel, I came back to Eng- 
 land — repaired to our native village — heard, for the first time, the sad 
 
HECTOR OUALLORAX. 123 
 
 tidings of vour elopement — found mj father living — my unele dead — 
 and learned that, for many months, the poor quarter-master had been 
 in mourning for his son. To the broken-hearted old man tlie news 
 was cautiously communicated that he was not so desolate as he believed 
 liimself. One child was restored to him as from the dead, and tidino-s 
 were heard of the wanderer. Instantly, we set out to seek the lost one, 
 and, thank Heaven ! our search has not been vain. Yes, Julia, our 
 once happy cottage shall again be the home of peace ; and ere the sun 
 sets, a father's blessing shall seal the pardon of his returning child. 
 And now, before we commence our journey, I have to compensate the 
 officer for his trouble ; and, indeed, without his assistance, I should 
 have scarcely found you out. Was it not a strange fatality, that 
 objects so different as those that brought the runner and myself from 
 England, should have led us to the same point ? 
 
 He said, and left the room. "VMiat occurred then and there between 
 the fosterer and fair fugitive, may be readily imagined. Their troth 
 was mutually interchanged ; and, " resolved in future to do risht," 
 subject to a father's approbation, the lady consented at the expiration 
 of a year to commit matrimony a second time, and shai'e the fortunes 
 of Mark Antony O'Toole. 
 
 As the travellers branched off by the roads which intersected each 
 other in front of the little hosteh-ie, their appearance, and the objects 
 of their present pursuits, might be taken as a tableau tkant of what 
 life is — of what man aims at. By one road, the sailor and his sister 
 were hastening to restore comfort to an afflicted heart — by another, 
 the Jew, in charge of the officer of justice, was being conveyed to that 
 home of felony — a jail. The third road tended to scenes of glory; 
 and thither the soldier was hastening after seducing the student 
 to quit the cloister for the field. The fourth route the fosterer took at 
 chance, and reckless whither it might lead to, there Mark Antony 
 determined to recommence his wanderings ; and '• the captain" having 
 discovered that there was another who, for a time at least, was bent 
 on taking the world as it came, at once proposed to form a travelling 
 copartnership. 
 
 The reader may find out hereafter, that had Mark Antony declined 
 the offer of the rat-catcher, he might have pointed a moral, by " going 
 further and faring worse." Indeed, it would have been well for me 
 had I the good luck of falling into as honest company, and short as 
 the succeeding chapter is, I think it will establish that fact. 
 
124 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 LIFE IN LONDON. 
 
 " A plague upon this Loudon ! I shall have no luck in it." 
 
 " Your town's a damned good-for-nothing town, 
 I wish I never had come into it." 
 
 The West Indian. 
 
 In one of those half-forgotten modes of transport, a sailing packet, 
 denominated the Eclipse, f departed from the Pigeon House, and witli 
 a fair and steady breeze landed at Holyhead, after a short passage of 
 nine hours. In those days this feat was accounted respectable ; for in 
 their transits from the emerald isle to the land of shopkeepers, it was 
 no uncommon circumstance for ill-starred gentlemen to pass so many 
 days and nights at sea, as to induce a belief that, in mistake, they had 
 booked themselves in the Flying Dutcliman, and consequently, had the 
 pleasing prospect of sailing to eternity. I was still further fortunate 
 in securing a seat in the London mail. In due time I reached the 
 modern Babylon, transferred my person and effects from the White 
 Horse Cellar to a Bond-street hotel, and there, for a limited period, 
 established my household gods. 
 
 At this memorable epoch of my history, my first visit to the great 
 metropohs, life in London was very different to what it is at present. 
 Theatres were frequented by the upper classes, and Vauxliall was in 
 all its glory. An English singer Avas then listened to ; it v\'a3 not 
 considered disreputable'to keep a native servant ; and without loss of 
 caste, a lady might submit her head to the curling irons of an artiste, 
 who had been actually born and indoctrinated within sound of Bow 
 bell. The clubs were few and exclusive. People resided in lodgings 
 and hotels adapted to their ranks and pockets ; in their mode of life a 
 gentlemanly consistency was maintained : and a man who in noontide 
 was the occupant of an edifice, erected with the costly expense formerly 
 bestowed upon a palace, would not, on an alarm of fire at midnight, 
 have been unkennelled from the back attic of a stay-maker, tenanted 
 for the moderate consideration of three shillings and sixpence, " paid 
 weekly and in advance." Indeed, a sort of John BuU-ish principle 
 pervaded society at large. If men staked large sums on questionable 
 events, it was generally expected that they would pay, should their 
 speculations prove unfortunate. The guards were frequently relie\ed 
 to music not Rossini's. Tailors who had never seen the Palais Royale, 
 received instructions in bookkeeping from divers of the nobility ; and 
 a bootmaker — teU it not in Gath — was considered absolutely fashion- 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 125 
 
 al)le, albeit the unhappy man was afiiicted with the desperate patronymic 
 of O'Shaughnessy. 
 
 Indeed, at this period of English history, when young and old 
 France were about to retire before Lord Wellington, the tone of 
 society was anti-continental. The aristocracy conversed in their 
 native tongue ; meats, as Heaven sent them, might be seen fre- 
 quently at tlie table of a peer ; and there was a vulgar prejudice 
 against being poisoned, even though the artiste were wai'ranted true 
 Parisien. Saltations, liajjpily unremembered, but bearing as it is 
 believed, a distant affinity to the vulgar affiiir now XaYmQiS. contre-clanse, 
 were extensively perpetrated ; and persons engaged in the same, 
 instead of being elegantly paralytic, moved as if their limbs were con- 
 trollable. Then, the refinement of the raise was undiscovered ; and 
 if a cavalier ventured to clasp a lady in his arms — Lombard-street 
 to a Cliina orange ! — ^he would have been kicked by husband, father, 
 or brother, out of the room incontinently. 
 
 Assisted by my father's letter, the great object of my journey was 
 happily accomplished. "Within three weeks the exchange I sought for 
 was eti^ected ; and I was in due form gazetted to a lieutenancy in an 
 old regiment cantoned for the winter on the Agueda. 
 
 At the time I visited the capital, the position a stranger held in 
 society was generally estimated by the quarter he inhabited ; and 
 before I started from Dublin, I took counsel touching " the where- 
 abouts " of a suitable abode. Mr. Pryme recommended some place 
 with a " man's head," in a lane near Crutched Friars ; while Captain 
 Forester, a castle aid-de-camp, denounced the same, declaring it to 
 be only a place fit for a bagman, and recommended Long's or Stevens's. 
 Well ! it was seventeen years since ]Mr. Pryme had been in town, and 
 probably Crutched Friai's was not as fashionable now as it might have 
 been formerly. Captain Forester infested London every season, and 
 consequently Captain Forester must be right. To Bond-street accord- 
 ingly I drove. Alas, how blindly people speculate upon events ! Had 
 I driven to the "man's head" in Crutched Friars, I should have been 
 safer by a hundred — " and no mistake." 
 
 The intervals between my visits to the Horse Guards were occupied 
 in exploring the capital from Tyburn Turnpike to Tower Hill ; and by 
 singular good fortune, I formed an acquaintance with a gentleman to 
 Avhom London and all its wonders were familiar. He kindly under- 
 took to play bear-leader for " the nonce ;" and under the guidance of 
 Colonel Santonier, I traversed " the mighty mass of brick, and stone, 
 and mortar," even from Dan to Beersheba. 
 
 The Colonel was an emigrant who, for political opinions, had been 
 exiled from " la beUe France." He was a royalist connected with half 
 the nobility of the ancient regime, his adckess was good, his disposi- 
 tion plastic and companionable. He had seen the world extensively, 
 and therefore was the better qualified to introduce a neophyte like me 
 upon the stage of life. On quitting his native country he had been 
 accompanied hj his sister. She was young, pretty, and accomplished ; 
 and, as the Colonel declared, " the most artless being in the world." 
 I never saw relatives more attached. They never met or parted with- 
 
126 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 out a kiss ; and yet, one thing struck me as remai'kable, there was 
 not the sHghtest family likeness between them. 
 
 Is it surprising that an acquaintance so valuable and agreeable, 
 ripened into a friendship of such ardour that Damon and Pythias 
 might have been jealous ? Most of my time was spent in the society of 
 the Colonel and his fair sister ; and as I had jobbed a buggy, sometimes 
 I drove my friend about town, or exliibited Mademoiselle Adelaide in 
 Rotten Row. Santonier had few acquaintances, and Avhen I had 
 Madame by my side, I often remai'ked that very impudent looks were 
 directed towards the lady. Once, too, when we wex'e brought to a 
 dead halt by the break-down of a coal-waggon, I heard a fashionable 
 scoundrel observe to his companion as they passed — " Lord, Frank, 
 what a flat that spoon is!" Flat! — spoon! Hang it, — neither term 
 sui'ely could apply to me ! 
 
 I think, had it lasted only another week, om" friendship would have 
 been registered in heaven. "We dined here and there, made short 
 excursions out of town, om' amicable arrangements were perfect — 
 for Monsieur Santonier placed such implicit confidence in my honour 
 and discretion, that Adelaide was considered in perfect secm-ity when 
 with me. She, sweet gii-1, was so inartificial that she even owned she 
 felt herself minus a heart, — and had I been consigned to the gallows, 
 I verily believe the Colonel would have borne me company, and 
 requested to be accommodated with another rope. 
 
 It was probably a delicate sensitiveness respecting Adelaide, which 
 made Santonier so very particular as to those who should be admitted 
 to his house. With one exception, I was an exclusive visitor ; for in 
 Jermyn-street I never met any person but a nice old gentleman with 
 green spectacles and a bald head, called the Baron Francheti ; and 
 every night he added himself to the party. We had coffee, played 
 cards, and Adelaide was my partner, although, sweet girl, I was 
 literally her ruin. I held bad hands, introduced spades when I should 
 lead diamonds, of course we always lost, Adelaide never murmiu-ed, 
 but handed the money to the Baron without a reflection on my 
 unskilful play. What coidd I do ? Nothing but present an indemnity 
 in the morning; and she graciously approved the taste of my selection, 
 and condescended to accept the offering. 
 
 On the day I was gazetted, in company with some other aspirants 
 for military glory, we dined together to celebrate our promotion, and, 
 as became soldiers of promise, got di'unk aftei'wards. Some managed 
 to reach their hotels, some stopped short in divers watchliouses; while 
 I, under the guidance of the star of love, headed my course instinc- 
 tively to my lady's bower in Jermyn-street. As usual, the family 
 party were at home. We played ; for I remember something about 
 overturning a lamp upon the card cloth. In a short time I di-opped 
 off the chair, was trundled home in a coach, put to bed, and remained 
 in deep repose, imtil daylight and a thundering head-ache brought 
 their pleasant reminiscences. 1 looked to the table: no property 
 was there, except a couple of shillings and an empty note-case. 
 Before I had gone to dinner, I changed my last fifty, and stocked 
 my pocket-book with the produce. A pleasant position! Out of two 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 12Y 
 
 hundred pounds advanced me by tlie Quaker, not a sous left, and the 
 hotel biU and half my appointments still unpaid ! 
 
 I never had known a pecuniary difficulty before. "Wliat was to be 
 done ? In London, and without a guinea ! Should I write to my 
 father, and tell him that before I had been three months upon the 
 world, I had despised his admonitions, contracted debts, and gambled 
 away the means given me to discharge them ? I had only to own the 
 truth, and I should be immediately relieved — but to vie, how bitter 
 would be the humihation — to Mm, how painful the disclosure ! Hours 
 passed : I cursed my folly ; but still I could devise no plan to remedy 
 it ; and my brain was teeming with wild expedients, Avhen a tap was 
 heard at the door, and in glided my London PaUnurus, the Colonel. Li 
 his look there was nothing consolatory, for the expression of his coun- 
 tenance was gloomy, as if he had been " performing " at a funeral. 
 He sate down at my bed-side, took my hand in his, looked unutter- 
 able things, and then, in a broken voice, inquired tenderly after his 
 " dear friend's health." 
 
 " My health, Colonel, is not affected, beyond a drunken head-ache ; 
 but on my conduct I cannot look back without self-reproach and 
 shame." \ 
 
 The brother of Adelaide shrugged his shovdders to his ears, and then 
 delivered himself of a speech, which seemed intended rather to be 
 exculpatory of himself, than consolatory to me. According to his 
 account, I would jDlay madly on, Adelaide in despair quitted the 
 room, he remonsti'ated — aU to no purpose ; for the demon of play had 
 entered into me, and play I would. I lost the contents of my pocket- 
 book, and " the JeetJe note of hand to the Baron." 
 
 " Note of hand to the Baron !" I exclaimed, springing bolt upright 
 in the bed. 
 
 It was absolutely true ; for a billet was brought me at the moment 
 by the waiter, in which the nice old gentleman affectionately requested 
 '' to know how I had rested the preceding night, with a casual inquiry 
 at what bank my note for £120 should be presented ?" 
 " For a time I could not beheve the evidence of my eyes, but read 
 the Baron's billet again and again. At last, I began to fancy I had 
 been duped. In a moment, a flood of hght poured upon my mind, a 
 thousand trifles were recollected, and my worst suspicions were con- 
 firmed. 
 
 The Colonel remarked a change of countenance that threatened an 
 explosion, and, pleading a forgotten engagement, he took a hurried 
 leave. 
 
 I rose, di'essed, wrote twenty letters, and tore them ; then ordered 
 my gig, drove down two streets, and returned. I passed a miserable 
 day — ate no dinner — drank brandy and water extensively ; and retired 
 to a private room, in a frame of mind which a demon might find pity 
 for, to write letters. Write letters ! Pshaw ! merely blot paper. 
 
 Twilight fell — my brain was half on fire — I rejected candles — the 
 gloom of evening was best sviited for the bitter musings of a mind 
 like mine. I gazed from the window, objects passed, but I saw none 
 of them. I heard the door open — a figure stood beside me. I looked 
 
128 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 carelessly up — it was Adelaide. In thought I was connecting her 
 agency -with the villany of her brother and the Baron — proofs against 
 her appeared strong, and I liad set her down a guUty thing. No wonder 
 that I received her coldly; and my frigid civility semed to wound her 
 more than actual rudeness. 
 
 " You are changed," said the Colonel's sister : " had I visited you 
 once, my reception would have been very different." 
 
 " It might," I said, coldly. " I did not then believe that the Colonel 
 was a scoundrel, the Baron a rogue, and yoiu-self — " 
 
 *•' What ?" she inquu-ed, 
 
 '• Why — a very convenient associate." 
 
 " I can remain here but a few minutes. The errand is urgent — 
 the time short." She took a small packet from her bosom, where it 
 had been concealed, laid it on the table, and then proceeded. " To 
 a certain extent, I admit your charges. The statement of your being 
 I^lundcred is correct, and the description of the plunderers is true; the 
 Colonel was a fencing-master first, a cheat and thief afterwards. The 
 Bai'on, I believe, a swindler from his cradle. Of me — ask not what 
 I n-as — know what I am — a fallen woman — one who, in the common 
 course of crime, has sunk by degrees, and at last, at twenty-one, 
 become the confederate of thieves and ruffians. Oh Heaven ! if women 
 only knew what fearfvil penalties hang upon one lapse from virtue, 
 how few would fall !" 
 
 She wept. The tears were irresistible. 
 
 " Adelaide," I said, " you must forgive me. I have been 
 severe — my losses have annoyed me. What is that parcel you desire 
 me to take?" 
 
 . " Your watch — I purloined it." 
 / " Good Heaven ! impossible !" 
 
 " No, no, O'Halloran — it was only to secure it. Hear me — a few 
 minutes, and Ave part for ever. I am a woman — a lost one — but 
 still my heart is not altogether callous. I saw you — you were young 
 and unsuspicious, and became an easy victim. I watched the course 
 of spoliation — you imagined that I lost money, and generously made 
 me a recompense. Am I forgiven ?" she added. " And must I leave 
 theer 
 
 " Not on my account, I trust," responded a voice, deep as that of 
 Lablache, at our elbow. 
 
 We started— Adelaide hurried from the room — I remained, so did 
 the stranger — Mr. Hartley ! 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 129 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A SECOND DELIVERANCE. 
 
 " Stockwell. So, so, you seem disordered, Mr. Belcour. 
 Belcour. Disordered, sir! Why did I ever quit the soil in 
 which I gre'w ? " The "West Indian. 
 
 For a minute the father of Isidora and I preserved a dignified 
 silence. The stern displeasure his countenance evinced was not en- 
 couraging, and I looked the silliest young gentleman imaginable. The 
 contretemps of this evening visit was most provoking. I had never 
 done the sentimental in my life but twice, and on both occasions Mr. 
 Hartley had managed to drop in. Turning his dark and searching eye 
 on mine, he di'ily inquired, " Whether it would be considered an im- 
 pertinence on his part, if he asked who the lady might be whom he 
 had very unintentionally put to flight ?" 
 
 I mentioned her name, not forgetting to announce also the nobility 
 of her descent ; but had it been in direct line from Charlemagne or the 
 Conqueror, it would not have propitiated Mr. Hartley, if one could 
 form any opinion from the inauspicious "humph!" with which he 
 received the intelligence. 
 
 " And, my good sir, how long have you known this interesting per- 
 sonage ? " he continued, 
 
 " Since my arrival in London," I replied. 
 
 " A marvellous short time to ripen friendship to such full maturity ! 
 And what event might have called forth that storm of sobs and kisses 
 which I so unluckily interrupted ? " 
 
 A contemptuous sneer accompanied the inquiry that stung my pride, 
 and I answered warmly, that " I considered that he had neither 
 authority nor interest to pry into matters with which he was wholly 
 unconcerned." 
 
 " Xo right, certainly," he observed, " excepting that which former 
 services may be fairly supposed to warrant." 
 
 '•' Mr. Hai-tley," I replied, " I freely admit that I am indebted to 
 you for hospitality, and also for deliverance from a disagreeable, and 
 possibly a dangerous restraint ; but surely one who rigidly interdict? 
 inquiiy into aught connoted with himself, should also respect the 
 secrets of another." ' ^ 
 
 " I acknowledge the j^i^cc of your remark," said my quondam host ; 
 " and the noble demoiselle, who hangs upon the neck of the acquaint- 
 ance of a fortnight, discharging volleys of sighs, ' hot as a furnace,' 
 shall remain incognita. You own yourself indebted to me for former 
 obligations ; you have now a power of returning them ; and I come 
 her6 to ask a favoui-." 
 
 K 
 
130 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " It is granted, sir," I rej^lied, warmly, " even before 'tis known," 
 " Stop, stop," he i-eturned ; " it is a request that is too frequently 
 refused." 
 
 " Name it, sir." 
 
 " It is the loan of money I solicit. The jDeriod bi'ief ; the repay- 
 ment certain." 
 
 I felt my face redden, and could not find words to answer. 
 " Before I name the sum that I would borrow," pursued Mr. Hartley, 
 without appearing to notice my confusion, " and as the loan must be 
 regulated by the state of your own finances, let me inquire what 
 money you brought to town. Men coming to London are generally 
 well provided." 
 
 What a question from a stranger ! Surely I should resent it as 
 impertinent. But no — the man appeared gifted with some influence 
 that bent me to his will — and I muttered, that when I embarked for 
 England my purse had contained two hundred pounds. 
 
 " Faith, not a bad supply. Co'old you with convenience spare me 
 half?" 
 
 I groaned, and shook my head. 
 " Fifty, then?" 
 
 Another and a more desponding shake. 
 
 " "Well, be it forty. No answer. Thirty — twenty — ten ! No 
 answer yet? Then is my request refused? So much for the lip- 
 gratitude of ISIv. Hector O'Halloran ! " 
 
 I thought my brain would madden, as the humiliating position to 
 which my folly liad reduced me, was thus rudely exposed by this 
 tormenting supplicant. I tried to speak — 'twas useless ; words would 
 not come. Another minute passed — and INIr. Hartley's eyes were 
 turned on mine, as if he would have read the secret agony of spirit 
 which his importimity had caused. 
 
 " Well," continued he, " should I solicit five paltry poxmds — woidd 
 that small assistance be refused ? " 
 
 The question was torturous. My voice at last found utterance. 
 I raised my eyes, and looked full at Mr. Hartley. How well that look 
 betrayed my secret sufferings — the bitterest a man can know — those of 
 self-contempt and conscious humiliation ! 
 
 " Had I hundreds, Mr. Hartley, they should be placed freely at 
 3^om' disposal, and I should feel too proud in having the power of 
 convincing you that I have not forgotten kindnesses. I want the 
 means — ^for on yonder table lies all the money I am master of." 
 
 " What ! " he exclaimed, " only a few shillings left of two himdred 
 pounds ? " 
 
 " 'Tis true, by Heaven ! " 
 
 " Then, sir, are you lower than the wretch who asks for alms upon 
 the road-side. You are a pauper by vice ; he a beggar through mis- 
 fortune. Listen, boy, and learn how deep is your degradation. A 
 man to whom you were indebted for good services seeks your assist- 
 ance, and whatever might have been your wishes to render it, folly 
 has placed the means beyond your reach ; and, to a noble spirit, how 
 painful is the inability of returning a former obligation ! And for what 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAX. 131 
 
 did you deprive yourself of the power of being generous ? To lavish 
 money upon knaves and gamblers — or, still more wretched infatuation, 
 — to win the heartless smiles of beauty ? " 
 
 He paused, as if to observe the eiFect of his reproof, and one glance 
 attested its influence. In my agitated countenance the inward workings 
 of the breast were visible ; for I had never felt the agony of conscious 
 shame and self-reproach till now. No wonder that under such feelings, 
 this singular personage elicited step by step, every particular touching 
 my connexion with Santonier and his confederates. There are times 
 when men feel their positions so intolerable, that, with despairing 
 recklessness, they court no concealment, but place their offendings in 
 their worst light. Such feelings were mine ; and, undeterred by the 
 strongly-expressed scorn and displeasure of Mr. Hartley, I brought 
 the confessions of my folly to a close. 
 
 " My words have pained you? — it is all the better," continued my 
 stern monitor, '-'as it affords reasonable ground for hoping that the 
 error lies in the head, and not in the heai't. Vice has no blush ; and, 
 when the cheek reddens at the recollection of past imprudence, it may 
 be expected that future follies will be eschewed. But how could you 
 have been plundered so unsuspectingly ? I only marvel that the veriest 
 novice ever loosed upon a vicious town, could not in one day's acquaint- 
 ance have detected the barefaced swindling of your noble friends." 
 
 " You seem to know them ?" I inquired. 
 
 " Yes ; and for that profitable knowledge I own myself indebted to 
 Ml-. Hector O'Halloran." 
 
 " To me, sir?" I exclaimed. 
 
 " Ay, sir, to you. — Have you forgotten my letter ? and have I not 
 apprised you that every action of your Itfe is under the strictest sur- 
 veillance? With all your movements, from the very night you entered 
 London, I have been acquainted ; and it is not wonderful that I should 
 take some interest in ascertaining who were the intimate associates 
 of a man, whose fortunes are to be made or marred by me." 
 
 Wliat a strange gentleman this Mr. Hartley was ! He seemed to 
 have selected me'^as a sort of shuttlecock wherewith to amuse himself 
 at his own discretion, while with my future fortunes he modestly 
 announced a determination, in Yankee parlance, to "go the whole 
 hog." Strange that I should passively submit to be thus painfully 
 hectored by a^tranger ; and, with every inclination, want moral courage 
 to rebel ! The man was a mystery — he appeared to have a perfect 
 knowledge of my actions, added to the gift of ubiquity. Did I ask an 
 impertinent question, or perpetrate a kiss, he was sure to be close at 
 my elbow. Was it not devilish hard, that a man could not commit his 
 fooleries— as Sir Lucius O' Trigger wished to fight—" in peace and 
 quietness ?" and, when he had lost his last guinea, that a gentleman 
 should drop in, to deliver himself of an admonition first, and require the 
 loan of a hundred afterwards ? I had got myself into " a regular fix," 
 — and that seemed the signal for Mr. Hartley to appear at the moment 
 when I wished him " five fathom under the Rialto." 
 
 One thing was indisputable— I had been sadly fooled. Circumstances 
 smooth down misfortunes j and I have heard that men, who would be 
 
 k2/ 
 
132 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 tUnven to desperation at being clieated by a thimble-rigger, feel it only 
 an agreeable kind of sorrow in being swindled by a peer. — I wished to 
 find out the real character of my plunderers ; and it would be an 
 unspeakable satisfaction to be certain that I had been "cleaned out" 
 by the descendants of some "baron bold" who had tilted on the field 
 of Agincourt, or at Pavia " lost every thing but honour." Adelaide 
 had described them as low-born swindlers, but she might be mistaken. 
 Timidly, therefore, I hazai'ded the inquiry, whether " jMi*. Hartley 
 knew the exact circle of society which Santonier and his companions 
 appertained to ? " 
 
 " That question," replied Mr. Hartley, " is a puzzler ; for in every 
 grade, from the highest to the lowest, you will find distinctions. The 
 colonel's birth may be as noble as he insinuates it to be. He was an 
 enfant trotive, and in time, the foundling rose to be a valet. In the 
 Revolution, his master lost his head, and Santonier his place ; he next 
 became a professional gambler ; " a master of fence" afterwards — 
 and lastly, the chevalier cVindiistrie reached the climax of ras- 
 cality, and acted as a double spy. The old gentleman, in green 
 spectacles, has been all his life attache to " a hell." The lady's 
 history can only be learned at the Palais Royal — and I doubt 
 whether it would repay the trouble of a research. Although the 
 struggle may be painful, stiU it is best to prepare you for the trial, 
 A warrant from the Alien Office has directed your amiable acquaint- 
 ances to witlidi*aw — and before to-moiTOw's sun rises, the Santoniers 
 will have departed. An hour since the Colonel and I had a satisfactory 
 conversation. This money he requested me to deliver to you." (Here 
 3Mi*. Hartley gave me some bank notes.) "And, as to this security, it 
 is now mine — and may I inquire, are you prepared to discharge it ?" 
 
 I took the writing, — it was a promissory note bcai'ing my signature, 
 and covenanting to pay "one hundred -and fifty pounds at sight !" 
 
 " Are you prepared to discharge this honoiu'able engagement?" he 
 demanded, with afiected seriousness. 
 
 I shook my head. 
 
 " Then we may as well cancel it at once j" and as he spoke he tore 
 the paper to pieces. 
 
 " Said I not well, when I told you, that on me the colour of your 
 future life depended? Remember this second deliverance — one, to 
 wluch a week's imprisonment in the haunt of di'unken outlaws were a 
 mere nothing. But no more of this ; we have other matters now to 
 occupy us. I want you for an hour or two." 
 
 He took his hat — desired me to follow him. I felt myself a mere 
 puppet in his hands — bowed assent — and we left the hotel together. 
 
 And where was Isidora ? The question was often on my lips ; but 
 my companion was a gentleman of such explosive temperament, that 
 I dare not hazard the inquiry. He called a coach — I stepped in after 
 him, obedient as a poodle — and, according to order, honest Jarvey 
 rumbled his "leathern conveniency" to some caravanserai in the city, 
 as much excluded from the Court Circular as Mr. PrjTue's favourite 
 hostelrie — the house with " the man's head" in Crutched Friars. 
 
 As we rolled along the streets IVIr. Hartley's manner assmned a 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAX. 133 
 
 different tone, for he talked to me with the familiarity of old acquaint- 
 anceship, and never for a moment recmred to my recent peccadillos. 
 We spoke of the engrossing subjects of the day, and on every topic 
 iie displayed that peculiar knowledge, which one who has been long 
 intimate with mankind only can acquire. Keen and correct as liis 
 observations were, they seemed to be those of a man who had quai'reUed 
 with the world ; and, inexperienced as I was, I set him down to be 
 one whose past career had been mifortunate, or whose futm-e pro- 
 spects were gloomy and uncertain. 
 
 "Wlien we entered the hotel Mr. Hartley led the way to the apart- ' 
 ments he occupied. They were situated at the extremity of a long 
 corridor, and isolated from the other chambers of the inn. In an 
 ante-room my old acquaintaiice Dominique was seated. Although his 
 fanciful dress was discarded for a plain blue livery, I easily recognised 
 my sable friend ; and the negro's intelligent countenance brightened 
 as he saw me, and offered a silent welcome. His master introduced 
 me into a drawing-room, desired me to be seated, apologized for a 
 short absence, and left me to myself. 
 
 How strange — during our long interview and di'ive, not a word of 
 Isidora ! — I had once asked simply if she were well, and he had replied 
 in the affirmative so briefly, that it seemed to preclude any fm-ther 
 inquiries touching his fair daughter. I examined the apartment — 
 110 tokens of female occupancy presented themselves — it was like the 
 common-place chamber of every inn, and only remai'kable for the 
 numerous trunks and boxes it contained ; and to judge from the extent 
 of the baggage, the traveller to whom it appertained was preparing 
 for a final flitting. The various packages had Mr. Hartley's name 
 attached ; and hence, I concluded that to Ireland he had bidden a long- 
 farewell. But brief space was permitted for solitaiy fancyings : the 
 door opened, — my quondam host entered accompanied by a lady, — 
 and one look told me that she was Isidora. 
 
 "Wlien I advanced and took her hand, she coloured to the brow, 
 but stni my reception was a kind one. Meeting under different cu'- 
 cumstances, we both felt less embai-rassment than when I had been 
 first presented to her ; and I thought I coidd perceive something 
 in Mr. Hartley's manner, which appeared to give encoui-agement to 
 our closer intimacy. Occasionally he alluded to my last escapade 
 in dry sarcastic observations, oidy intelligible to ourselves ; but his 
 manner satisfied me, that however foolish I might have appeared, still 
 I had not fallen in his estimation. Supper ended, Isidora withdrew ; 
 we parted with " a fair good night ;" and IMi*. Hartley and I were left 
 alone. 
 
 My host looked at the door to see that it was closed, then filled his 
 glass, and pushed the flask across to me. 
 
 " Hector," he commenced. 
 
 I started ; for it was the first time he had ever addressed me without 
 prefixing a formal mister to my name. 
 
 " I perceive," he continued, " tliat you are surprised to hear me 
 speak to you with little ceremony. Did you but know the secret 
 history of him who sits beside you, that wonder would be removed. 
 
>134 THE FOETUNES OF 
 
 The time for that is yet to come ; and you must exjject my confidence 
 only as circumstances may require, and your own conduct shall deserve 
 it. I told you that your fortunes were controlled by me ; and on that 
 assurance you may place the firmest reliance. Listen, and you may 
 learn much concerning yoiu* own family — more than you have yet 
 known — and, afterwards, I wiU explain the reason that made me thus 
 communicative." 
 
 I bowed, and remained a silent listener. 
 
 " You had an uncle. He was thrown upon the world unwisely when 
 u boy, left to his own guidance, and subjected to more temptation than 
 youth can conquer. Need I tell you, who have learned the lesson 
 practically, how easily intimacies are formed, which, when unchecked, 
 prove ruinous ? By the ill-judging liberality of his father, young 
 Clifford obtained the means to follow the bent of his inclination. His 
 temper was ardent — his passions strong — he had no friend to counsel — 
 no Mentor to direct — his life became a whirlwind of dissipation — and 
 with rapid strides he hurried to destruction. Too late, the film was 
 removed from his parent's eyes ; and unfortunately, the steps he took 
 to stay that course of folly in his child, which himself had first encouraged, 
 were injudicious. Money was suddenly withheld ; could the wild 
 youth's career be thus arrested ? No ; false villains surrounded him, 
 who pointed out easy means by which a large supply was raised, only, 
 when obtained, to be wasted upon knaves, or lavished with reckless 
 prodigality on those whose beauty had been their bane. Oh ! woman 
 — thou art a blessing or a curse — and as both, this withered heart has 
 proved thee ! " 
 
 Mr. Hartley sprang from his chair — strode across the room — stopped 
 at the window — and then, as if he had subdued a violent outbreak of 
 secret feeling, he resumed his seat and thus continued : 
 
 " A vicious career soon finds its termination. The mode by which 
 young CUfford had hitherto obtained supplies at last became unavailing, 
 and criminal means were cautiously proposed by his villanous confede- 
 rates. From these the youth recoiled with horror — his guardian angel 
 had not yet deserted him ; and, like another prodigal, he half determined 
 to fall at his father's feet, and ask him to bless and pardon. That blessing 
 was ready had he sought it — but the moment of penitence had passed. 
 One, with an angel form and demon heart, had thrown her spells 
 around him ; and all that remained of moral principle, she, the foul 
 temptress, gradually extinguished. In a desperate emergency young 
 Clifford committed forgery, affixing to securities of immense amount, 
 his father's name. In due time the criminal act was discovered, and 
 to the agonized parent one alternative alone was left — to pay an 
 enormous sum to the villains who had demoralized him, or denounce 
 his child a felon, and consign him to a felon's doom. He sacrificed the 
 money. Did the mischief end there ? No ; — the misguided young 
 man was now the victim of a gang of swindlers — the puppet of a cold- 
 blooded courtesan. Deeper and deeper they involved him, and at last, 
 when their own detection was impending, they made him a scape- 
 goat to their safety, and denounced their dupe for crimes which they had 
 themselves committed, and of which he, poor wretch, was guiltless. 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAX. 135 
 
 The fallen have no friends ; and your uncle was obliged to evade the 
 penalty which the law would liave then exacted, by abandoning the 
 country of his birth, to seek ignominious safety in a foreign land. 
 There — he lived and died — a nameless fugitive. Heaven knows in 
 what misery the remnant of his few and evil days were passed, — or, 
 when the hour of deliverance came, under what fearful circumstances 
 death claimed a wiUing victim." 
 
 ]Mr. Hartley paused ; the story of my unfortunate relative had 
 affected me, and I expressed strong sympathy for the offender. 
 
 " Well," continued he, "it is probable that his punishment was greater 
 than his crime ; but of that none but himself could tell. To proceed : 
 — from the moment young Cliftbrd quitted England, his father, by a 
 mental exertion that almost appeal's incredible, seemed to forget that 
 he had ever had a son, and centered all his hopes and his affections 
 in the cliild stiU spared him ; and your mother became the object 
 that he lived for. There, too, it was decreed that his hopes and plans 
 should be disappointed. He had resolved to ally her nobly ; but liis 
 air-built castle was levelled to the earth. She eloped with a soldier of 
 fortune ; and worse still, in the estimation of one so deeply bigoted to 
 his own faith, the husband she had selected was a Protestant. 
 
 As he had banished from his heai*t the memory of a guilty son, so, also, 
 he appears to have forgotten that a daughter, whose sole offence was love, 
 has often sued for pardon, and sued in vain. Dead, apparently, to human 
 passions, and wrapped in gloomy reveries of religion without any 
 tiling of its charities, he mistakes ascetic indifference for submission to 
 that Will wliich rules the fate of mortals. In every tiling he is directed 
 by his confessor, and report affirms that he has bequeathed his fortune 
 and estates to the uses of the Chm-ch of Rome. I have heard that you 
 bear a striking likeness to your mother. Could you but meet this cold 
 old man, possibly some spark of kindi'ed love might still be latent in 
 the heart, and in the living child, he might happily be forced to 
 recollect the long-estranged mother. But to obtain that meeting is the 
 difficulty. Surrounded by priests and spies, your very name, if known, 
 woidd bar you from his presence. I have taken measures to ascertain 
 what are the old man's habits, and how an interview might be accom- 
 plished. The experiment may fail — but stiU it is worth the trial. 
 
 " Why have I enlarged on what you knew partially already ? — the 
 f\ill of William Clifford. Only to show, by startUng truths, that im- 
 prudence is too generally the path to crime ; and that your career, unless 
 arrested as it was by me, might have ended fatally as your uncle's did." 
 
 " Never !" I exclaimed, passionately ; " a fool I might be — a villain, 
 never." 
 
 " And so thought young Clifford once — but no more of this. I 
 feel convinced that your fancy for play and dangerous acquaintances 
 is ended." 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Hartley, I see my folly in its true colours." 
 
 " And now for bed," he replied. " You to your hotel, and I to my 
 chamber. Let me see you early to-morrow. Should business have 
 called me from home, you will find Isidora, and her sable genius, 
 Dominique." 
 
136 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " You never travel ftir without your black attendant," I remarked. 
 
 " He never leaves us ; and for twenty years, amidst all its storm 
 and sunshine, he has followed my fortunes with devoted fidelity. Next 
 to that of my child, the greatest loss Heaven could inflict would be to 
 take from me that faithful negro. He comes. — Show ]Mr. O'Hal- 
 loran down stairs. — Once more, good night." He shook me warmly 
 by the hand. " One word more, friend Hector," he added with a 
 smile ; " you need not lose time in a visit to Jermyu-street — the 
 birds have flown ! " 
 
 It was past midnight, if you could believe the Avatchman ; and as I 
 v.^alked slowly westward, and thought on the events of the few last 
 hours, I doubted their actual reality. The strange and quick succes- 
 sion in which they followed, seemed like the wanderings of a dream. 
 A second time had I been delivered from a cx'itical position by a person, 
 two months ago a stranger — and yet one, who appeared to have dropped 
 upon the earth, for the especial purpose of looking after me. I slept — 
 many a vision passed " in shadowy review." — but one, more brilliant 
 than the rest, was ever before " my mind's eye." — Mr. Hartley, the 
 genius of my good fortune, and Isidora, its bright reward. 
 
 I have said akeady, that the destinies of my foster-brother and 
 myself were intimately united. Mark Antony left my father's house 
 to join me in Dublin — the hand of fate had interposed — and on this 
 eventful night, while I reposed at Stevens's, my alter ego was '' taking 
 his rest" in a back attic, two pair up, in a ramification of the Seven 
 Dials — a safe and agreeable domicile, to which his friend, the rat- 
 catcher, had introduced him. A cheaper lodging might have been 
 certainly obtained ; but this was quiet and select. From slates to 
 cellar there were but seven families in the house — " and the beauty of 
 it was," as Shemus Rhua remarked with triumphant satisfaction, 
 " every soid of them was Irish." 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE ROBBERY OF TIM MALEY. 
 
 " My fatter, the deacon, wrouglit him his first hose. Odd, I'm 
 thinking deacon Threeplie, the rape-spinner, will twist him his last 
 cravat. Ay, ay, puir Eobin is in a fair way o' being hanged." 
 
 Hob Eoy. 
 
 After the "sweet sorrow" of parting with the cantatrice, the 
 fosterer and his companion, as if striving to leave care behind, pushed 
 forward vigorously on the road ; and at sunset, the steeple of the village 
 where they had determined to remain for the night, was visible from 
 the liigh ground they were crossing. Never were fellow-travellers 
 
HECTOR o'HALLORAN. 137 
 
 ill more opposite moods ; Mark Antony, melancholy as '• a lover's lute " 
 — the ratcatcher, 
 
 "Brisk as a bee, liglit as a fairy." 
 
 And yet the matter might have been easily accounted for — the one had 
 parted with a mistress — no wonder, therefore, tliat he, poor fellow, was 
 sad enough ; the other was levanting from a wife— consequently he was 
 merry, " and small blame to him," as they say in Ii-eland. 
 
 '•' AYell, upon my conscience, Mark, astore,"* said Shemus Ehua, 
 breaking a silence of five minutes, '•' ye're a pleasant companion this 
 evening, if a man didn't care what he said." 
 
 The fosterer answered with a sigh. 
 Why," continued the ratcatcher, '' were you married, like myself, 
 
 was once in love myself, and, as the sergeant's song goes, found nothmg 
 for it but wliisky. So, there's a bridge, and here's the cruiskeeine ; 
 we'll sit down upon the wall for a wdiUe, take a di'op to kill grief, and 
 just inquu-e afterwards, where the devil we are going to."^ 
 
 As he spoke, the worthy captain unclosed his goat-skin knapsack 
 — produced a flask and capacious drinking - cup, supplied the latter 
 sparingly from the stream, completing it amply from the cruiskeeine — 
 and after swallowing the larger moiety himself, he transferred " love's 
 panacea" to his desponding comrade. 
 
 " That's the thing," exclaimed Shemus Rhua, as the fosterer emptied 
 the horn ; " and now, IMi-. O'Toole, w^Ul you tell me where I'm bound 
 for ?" 
 
 " Upon my soul," returned the fosterer, '•' I don't know where I'm 
 going to myself — nor do I care." 
 
 " There's two of us so," observed the captain. 
 
 " I think I'll head towards England," said the fosterer. 
 
 " Well," returned the captain, '• I'll go there too." 
 
 " Push on to London afterwards, and try an L-ishman's luck." 
 
 " Right," exclaimed the ratcatcher ; '' and I'U stick to you like a 
 bur." 
 
 " But what could you do there, copteeine ?' 
 
 " Ask me rather what could I not do ! Ai-e there any brats, rats, 
 pointers, or old women to be found ?" 
 
 " Enough of all, no doubt. Master Shemus." 
 
 " Then leave Shemus Rhua alone to make out life." 
 
 " Well, captain, if you will venture, we'll share the purse while it 
 holds a shilling — and when the last is gone— why, it's only mounting 
 the cockade." 
 
 " For a gentleman like me," returned the ratcatcher with a smile, 
 " who had the honour to hold a conmiission, it would be beneath him 
 to enlist ; but, mona-sln-dlioul ! wherever you go, Mark, I'll foUow like 
 your shadow." 
 
 * ^n^/jce— darling. 
 
138 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " Come along," said the fosterer, " night is falling, and the road, 
 they say, is unsafe after dark. They robbed the mail last week." 
 
 " They'll not rob us," returned the ratcatcher. " Where hard blows 
 and light purses are only to be got, people who understand their 
 business, never trouble themselves with such customers." 
 
 " Well, Shemus, you know best ; for you're foully belied, if there 
 was a handier gentleman out in ninety-eight." 
 
 " I never robbed, if robbing you can call it," returned the captain, 
 " but twice ; and if every thing I did besides sate as light upon my con- 
 science, the devil a knee I need crook to Father UUc M' Shane." 
 
 " And who did you rob ?" inquired the ratcatcher's companion. 
 
 " A miser, and the king — God bless his majesty ! I should have 
 spared him — for he's a dacent ould gentleman, or my head would 
 have been on a spike at Castlebar ! " * 
 
 " Well, Shemus, let us hear both exploits." 
 
 " When I robbed the king, it was only taking saddle-bags from an 
 honest tax-gatherer, Avhom I chanced to meet " accidentally on pur- 
 pose" one Avinter's evening at the deer-park wall of Cloghanteeley — 
 The man was drunk, the horse tired, and I took care of the silver — 
 only that, forgetting the owner's name, I never knew where to return 
 it afterwards." 
 
 " So much for the king," observed the fosterer ; " and now, gallant 
 captain, for the miser." 
 
 " I'll tell ye that," replied the ratcatcher. 
 
 Wbt li^obberp of ®im JWaltg. 
 
 " It was late in the winter, the year after the French,f and Christmas 
 Eve, into the bargain. Well, there was to be a cakeij: at Croneeinbeg — 
 and as I was then fond of a dance, I set out after dark for the village. 
 Before I got half-way, who should I meet but Mary Connor. She 
 was the natest girl within thirty miles, and had been only married a 
 bare fortnight. I heard her sob as I came up, and when I bid her the 
 time of the day, she couldn't answei', the poor cratur, for the grief was 
 fairly choking her. ' Death an' nouns,' says I, ' Mary darling, has any 
 thing happened to yourself or the man- that owns ye ?' 'Nothing,' 
 says she, ' copteeine avourneeine,§ only we're both faudy ruined.' 
 ' liuined ? ' said I. ' Och hone ! it's God's truth,' says she — and between 
 tears and sobs the poor girl managed to tell me her misfortune. 
 
 " ' Copteeine,' says she, 'ye know TimMaley of Ramore ?' ' Troth, 
 and I do,' says I, 'and I know nothing good of the same lad — an 
 infai'nal ould skin-flint, who would rob his own father if he could. 
 Whenever I want a sheep, I always give him the preference, and 
 
 * A disgusting penalty then attached to treason. 
 
 t In Connaught, for many years after Humbert's descent upon the coast of Mayo, 
 events were dated from that occurrence. 
 
 X At village dances, a cake is generally provided by the owner of the house, which 
 the most liberal gallant purchases, and presents to his mistress. 
 
 § " Captain darling." 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 139 
 
 choose one that has his brand upon it.' ' May the Lord reward ye,' 
 says she, ' for so doing, Well, copteeine, for two years he has been 
 comin' about oiu' place, and when tlae times got bad, and my father and 
 my husband were druv for rent, they borrowed money at gompeein * 
 from the miser. WeU, they thought to pay it, with and with,! but the 
 ci'ippawn \ seized the cattle, and the grate snow kilt the sheep, and the 
 devil a scurrick could they make up between them for the ould sinner, 
 when thek note fell due. Well, ye know that Pat and I were promised 
 for two years, but as the world went hard against us, we were afeard 
 to get mai'ried. On Monday come three weeks, we were sittin' round 
 the fire, heavy-hearted enough, when the latch was lifted softly. 
 I thought it was Pat, but who should it be but ould Maley. In 
 he comes, coughing, with his "God save all here," and draws a stool to 
 the fire. " Ye'r kindly welcome," says my father. " I hope so," says 
 the miser, " for I am come for at laste a part of the money that you 
 and Pat Grady, (manin' my husband,) are due me." My poor father 
 tui*ned pale as a cloth. " Mister Maley," says he, viistei'ing the ould 
 ruffin, to jjlase liim ye know ; " you've heard of our loss — may the 
 Lord look down upon us!" The miser gave a cough, " An' am I," says 
 he, " to get nather less or more of what I lent ye ?" My poor father 
 gave a groan, " Mary," says the ould divil to me, "put the boult in 
 the door, and come here and sit beside me." Well, copteeine, my 
 heart grew cold, an' I don't know why the fear came over me so, but 
 I did what he desired me, and came and sate down, but with my father 
 betune us. " Well," says he, " you're asking time, Phil Connor, an' may 
 be, I might give it to ye — ay, an' maybe I'll do more — for I'll make 
 Mary my lawful wife, and forgive ye the debt along with it." The light 
 left my eyes as he said so ; and when my poor father looked over at me 
 so heai't-broken, I thought I would have dropped. " What do ye say to 
 the offer ?" said ould Maley. " Och hone !" says my father, " it's a grate 
 honour ye do my little girl ; but, IVIister Maley, dear, ye'r too ould for 
 her." The miser bit his lip ; " An' do ye refuse me for a son-in-law ?" 
 says he, in a rage. " Let me just talk to the gentleman, father darlin'," 
 says I, for I knew we were in the ould villam's power, and I thought 
 that I might sofen him. My father left the cabin, ould Maley pulled 
 in his stool, took me by the hand, and begun palaverin' me, thinkin' I 
 would consint ; " And now, Mary," says he, " what have ye to say ? 
 Take me, or lave me, as ye like it." " Mister Maley," I said, " maybe 
 I may offind ye ; but if I don't spake the truth, I'll be guilty before 
 God. I love another dearly, and niver could like you ; and think of 
 the sin, and shame, and sorrow, it would cause, if I desarted him 
 because he's poor, and married you because ye'r rich. Look out for 
 some woman of your own years, for ye'U niver be happy with a girl." 
 He hardly waited to the end, but jumped upon his legs, and swarin' he 
 would lave us without a cloot,§ and beggar us root and branch, 
 he flung out of the cabin like a madman. 
 
 * An Irish term for usurious interest. t Anglice— by instalments. 
 
 % A fatal disease to which the black cattle of mountain districts are frequently 
 exposed 
 
 § Anglice — a head of cattle. 
 
140 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 • " ' Well, copteeine, when Pat came afterwards, and heard the story, 
 he cursed, and I cried, till, in sheer despair, we determined to marry 
 at once — and, the Lord forgive us ! we done it out of the face, and ran 
 away next morning. 
 
 " ' Well, we thought that God would stand our friend, and that, bad 
 as the ould miser was, sure he wouldn't ruin, out and out, two poor 
 craturs that had just got married ; but a week showed that Maley — 
 bad luck attind him ! — was bent on our destruction. One night, and 
 unknownst to us, every four-footed baste my father or my husband 
 owned, was di-iven to the pound, and yesterday they were canted for 
 anything they would bring. Poor Pat returned three hours ago almost 
 broken-hearted, and all I had to offer my weary husband was a di-y 
 potatoe.' Poor girl ! she burst into a flood of teai's, and every sob she 
 gave, I laid it heavy on my soul, ather to right her, or revenge her. 
 
 " 'Well, copteeine,' she went on, ' every cloot was sould but one milch- 
 cow that fell lame upon the road : I looked at my husband's sorry dinner 
 — and, for his sake, I determined to humble myself to that wicked ould 
 man, and beg from him the lame cow. OIF I set, unknownst to Pat, 
 took the short cut across the fields, and in an hour reached Maley's. 
 He looked at me as I entered the cabin, and the grin of hell was on his 
 face. Well, he spoke me fairly at first ; " Come in, astore,'" he said, 
 ladin' me into the inside room. Peaks, I thought he was going to be 
 kind at last ; but och ! copteeine, it was only mockery he meant after all. 
 " An' so ye want the lame cow ?" says he, beginnin' the conversation. 
 " Yis, Mister Maley," says I, " if it's agreeable to ye ; I would ask it as 
 a favour." "Humi)h!" says he, puUin' out a big key that was fastened 
 to his waistcoat with a string, and opening a black oak chest that was 
 standin' at the foot of the bed. " Do you see that bag, Mary ?" says he, 
 pointin' to a blue one. " I do, sir," says I. " Well, in that I brought 
 home the price of the cattle. Do ye see that other striped one ? " says 
 he. I told him that I did. " Well, that's the interest of what I lent 
 the squire," and three or four other gentlemen he named. '-'Now, Mary 
 Connor," says he, shuttin' down the lid and lockin' the chest again, " if 
 sixpence would save you from starvin', and Pat Grady from a jail, be 
 this book," and he kissed the key, " I wouldn't give it if you were on 
 the gallows." I rushed out from the ould viUain's sight. " Stop," he 
 cried, shoutin' from the windy; "as soon as the lame cow can walk, 
 she'll go where the others went yesterday. There's a cake, I hear, the 
 night at Croneeinbeg. — You'll be dancin' there, I think — ye know 
 the heel's light, where the heart's merry — isn't it, Mary Connor ?" and 
 till I was out of hearin', that fiend's laugh pierced me to the soul.' 
 
 " Well, Mark, I had made up my mind, before the poor girl had 
 done speakin.' ' Mary,' says I ' the ould monster shall tell truth for 
 once. Go home — di-ess yourself in your best — ^you'll be my partner 
 to-night at Croneeinbeg — ay, and, by Heaven ! there sha'n't be a lighter 
 foot upon the floor, nor a merrier heart lavin' the dance-house than 
 jour own, Mary Connor ! ' 
 
 " She stared — but I pressed her to do what I wished, and she 
 promised it. I waited till she was out of sight, and then jogged 
 quietly on towards the place were Maley lived. 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 141 
 
 " When I got within sight of the house, I thought it rathei' too 
 eai'ly to pay a visit to the raiser, and steppin' into a quai'iy, sate 
 down to let another hour pass. Maley knew me well ; but as I had 
 a crape in my pocket, I determined to disguise myself, pass for Johnny 
 Gibbons,* and give him the credit of the job. Presently I heard 
 footsteps on the road, and up came thi-ee men. They did not see me, 
 but I heard them talkin'. One of them was Maley's boy, and he was 
 tellin' liis companions how nicely he had given his master the slip, and 
 stole away without his knowin' it. ' If the cows brake loose,' says he, 
 the ' divil a man-body's about the place to tie them.' Oh, ho I thought 
 I to myself, soitow a better evening I could have chosen to visit ye, 
 !BIister Maley. So when the boys were out of hearin', I I'ose up, and 
 reached the misei''s without meetin' a living soiU. 
 
 " I peeped quietly through the windy, an' there was sittin' the ould 
 villin two-double over a few coals upon the hearth — for he begrudged 
 himself a dacent fire — and two women were spinnin' in the corner. 
 A dog that came out of the barn knew me to be strange, and set up 
 the bark. — 'What's that Cusdhu'st growlin' at?' said ould Maley, 
 sharply — ' Go out, Brideeine, and see.' I lifts the latch, and qmetly 
 steps in. ' There's no occasion, JMister Maley,' says I. ' It's an ould 
 friend who was passin' the road, and dropped in to ask ye how ye were.' 
 The women gave a squall, and I thought the miser woidd have di'opped 
 out of the chair where he was sittin.' ' Girls,' says I, ' I'U stand no 
 nonsense. Ye have heard of Johnny Gibbons, I suppose.' Both 
 dropt upon their knees, and Maley began to cross himself. — ' Up with 
 ye,' says I. ' Go into that room, and if ather you brathe a whisper 
 that would waken the cat, I'U drive a ball thro' ach o'ye. 
 
 " The divil a delay they made ; but away they stole, and closed the 
 door after them. "Well, I laid the gim upon the dresser, drew a stool, an' 
 sits down foment the miser. ' Ai-rah, bad luck attend ye for an ould 
 thief,' says I ; ' hav'n't ye the manners to ask a man who has come ten 
 miles to see ye, whether he has a mouth or not ?' ' Oh I Mister Gibbons, 
 jewel, it was aU a forget on my part. There's a bottle of licker in the 
 cupboard.' ' An' the curse of Cromwell on ye I' says I ; ' de ye think 
 it's me that's goin' to attend myself? — Brideeine — tell the oidd woman 
 to go to bed, an' come out an' wait upon your betters, — come out, I 
 say — or maybe veer waitin' for me to fetch ye ?' Out she comes, shakin' 
 like a dog in a wet sack, brings the whisky, and fills a glass. ' Xow, 
 light a dacent candle — keep your rush-light for other company — an' be 
 off with ye. Here's yeer health, JNIister Maley,' says I ; ' the divil a 
 better poteeine crossed my lips this twelvemonth. An' now for 
 bisnis. Step down to the room with me, if ye plase.' ' Arrah,' says 
 he, ' what de ye want there ?' I niver answered him, but took out a 
 pistol carelessly from my coat pocket, opened the pan, shook the primin', 
 and looked at the flint. ' Clirist stan' between us an' harm ! what are 
 ye about ?' says he. ' Xothing,' says I ; ' only that I always see if 
 
 • A sangiainary scoundrel, hanged after the Irish rebellion, whose name is still a 
 terror to the peasantry. 
 
 t Cu4(//^i/, literally hlickfoot, although many a ■white-footed cur is so called — the 
 Irish peasantry considering that name a lucky one 
 
142 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 the tools are in proper order before they'r wanted. Come along.' 
 Well, he followed me like a spaniel — in we goes to the room — and in 
 a moment I spied the black oak chest, ' Where's the key of this ?' 
 says I. ' God sees it's lost since the fair of BaUyhain, and that's a 
 fortnight come Saturday,' said the ould miser. ' Bad luck to the liars,' 
 says I. ' AVouldn't it be a quare thing, now, if I could find it ?' With 
 that I gives his waistcoat a rug, and out drops the key danglin' to a 
 bit of twine. The moment I put it in the chest, Maley roared 
 ' Murder 1' an' threw himself across the lid. I lifted him by the neck 
 as ye would lift a cur — flung liim on the bed — tied him hand an' foot 
 with a hank of yam — and stuffed an ould stockin' in liis mouth. ' Lie 
 quiet there,' says I. ' I'll not detain ye long ; for all I want here is 
 a blue bag, an' a striped one.' The ould divil struv to shout, but the 
 stockin' smothered his voice, an' the noise he made was so di-oU, that I 
 couldn't help laughin' till I was tired again. _WeU, sure enough there 
 were the bags, just as Mary Connor had tould me. I put them in the 
 pockets of my cota more* — took another hank, tied Maley to the bed- 
 post — bid him a tinder good night — desired the women on peril of 
 their lives to lie stUl till mornin' — walked quietly out of the house, 
 and locked the door after me. 
 
 " Well, off I goes straight to Croneeinbeg — steps into the dance- 
 house, an' salutes the company with a ' God save all here.' Divil a 
 merrier set ye iver looked at, but two — an' they were sittin' in the 
 corner. It was poor Grady an' his wife — an', pon my soul ! there was 
 such sorrow on their pale faces, that an enemy would have pitied them. 
 ' I want ye, Pat, says I.' Up he gets, an' we stept out together, and 
 walked five or six perches from the house. ' Pat, what's the matter 
 with ye, man ?' ' Ohone, copteeine ; ye know I'm ruined,' says he. 
 I wouldn't mind it for myself, but — my poor Mary' — an' he fairly 
 began to cry. ' Ai'rah !' says I, ' have done, man. De ye remember 
 the night before Garlick Sunday ?' ' No,' says he. ' Then, Pat 
 Grady, I do. Ye hid me, when the highlanmen had run me to a stan'- 
 stiU — and, with an hundred pound upon my head, saved me when I 
 thought none but God could deliver me from certain death. In that 
 bag you'll find some money — yom* debt to Maley is paid — and there's 
 a trifle to begin the world with. Go off. Hide it 'tUl ye want 
 it ; bui'n the bag ; an' now, you and I, Pat, have cleared scores ; 
 an' if ten pound wUl do it, the cake shall be Mary Connor's.' ' Oh ! 
 copteeine, jewel, let me but wliisper to Mary our good luck ;' and in 
 the poor fellow run, to spake comfort to the prettiest girl in the pro- 
 vince. 
 
 " In a few minutes I returned to the dance. I looked at Mary Connor. 
 The rose had come back again to her cheek, and at her bright black 
 eye ye could have lighted a dhudeeine. ' The jloorV says I — and 
 in a minute it was clear. I flung a dollar to the fiddler. ' Now, 
 bad luck to ye, play yir best, an' up with — Apples for ladies :'| and 
 ladin' out Mary Connor, the divil a better jig was danced for a month 
 of Sundays. 
 
 * Cota more — Anglice, great coat. 
 
 I The name of a favourite contredanse, exceedmgly fashionable in Connemara. 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 
 
 113 
 
 " ' Mary,' says I, "' as I pressed her hand at partin', ' didn't I 
 tell truth, my darlin', when I said, that light as yir foot might be, 
 the heart shoukl be lighter still ?' The tears— but they were tears 
 of joy — came stramin' down her cheeks. I kissed them away — 
 took up my gun— bid the company good night — and before morning 
 dawned, or the ould miser was unbound, I was across the KiUeries and 
 into Connemara ; an' the best of it is, that, to tliis blessed day, that 
 robbery is left on Johnny Gibbons. And now, Mark, I ask you, upon 
 the nick of yir conscience, was there any harm in returnin' the blue- 
 bag to the right owner, and keepin' the stripped one myself?' 
 
 " Under such circumstances, Shemus Rhua," replied the fosterer, 
 " I'm ready to turn robber when you like it. But here we are at the 
 Four Alls ; and, faith, I hope, like a singed cat, it will prove better 
 than it looks." 
 
 Indeed, in its external appearance, the village inn had nothing to 
 excite the expectations of a traveller. The windows were mostly 
 without glass ; the earthen floor broken into ruts, all of which appeared 
 recipients for dirty water ; while the ceiling Avas blackened with soot, 
 and the walls curtained with cobwebs. The landlord, looked a sot — 
 his helpmate, the epitome of every thing unclean. The ratcatcher 
 pronounced it " a place not fit to lodge a dacent dog in ;" while 
 Mark Antony, remembering that hosteh-ie, where he had found " the 
 warmest welcome," drew a mental contrast between both, and thought 
 with a sigh upon his rejected innamorata — the lady of the Cock and 
 Punchbowl. 
 
 TIMOTHY GROGAN. 
 
 ENTERTAINMENT FOR MAN AND HORSE. 
 
144 THE rOllTUNES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 CONFESSIONS OF THE RAT-CATCHER. 
 
 " There are certain ingredients to be mingled -with matrimony, 
 ■without which I may as likely change for the worse as the 
 better." A Bold Stroke fok a Wife. 
 
 The man miglit have been set down a lazy wayfarer indeed who 
 wovild have sojourned a second day at that pleasant hostler ie, whose 
 sign-board displayed the spirited representation we have copied. 
 Mai'k Antony avowed that " he had never closed an eye ;" while 
 his companion admitted the enjoyment of a short, but not sweet 
 season of forgetfulness, when, according to the confessions of the 
 captain, the insect tribe had assailed his person with such ferocity, 
 that, had they only combined their efforts, " and pulled one way, they 
 must have dragged him into the floor." No wonder, then, that the 
 journey was resumed at cockcrow. England was the destination ; and 
 the route was accordingly directed towards a neighbouring seaport, 
 fi'om which a passage in a trading vessel to Liverpool might Jbe 
 obtained. 
 
 At that period — one short to look back to — the transit of the Channel 
 was held to be a daring exploit ; and, in Irish estimation, England 
 was indeed, a land beyond the seas. Whether business or pleasure 
 formed the inducement, the latter must be considerable, before a 
 votary of St. Patrick would venture upon " realms unknown ;" and 
 great therefore was the fosterer's satisfaction, in discovering that 
 Shemus Rhua was an accomplished traveller, and also that, in earlier 
 life, the gallant captain had visited " the great metropolis." 
 
 " It's now three-and-twenty years ago," concluded the ratcatcher, 
 with a sigh, " and, upon my conscience, to look back, Mark dear, it 
 appears like yesterday." 
 
 " And what brought you to England, Shemus?" said the fosterer. 
 
 " Why, I think," replied the captain, " a gentleman who has directed 
 me generally from the cradle. He keeps, they say, a warm house ; 
 and, though he's the best friend they have, the clargy are eternally 
 abusing him." 
 
 " Well, by your own account, copteeine, your guide was none of 
 the best. The errand, I hope, was better ? " 
 
 " Neeil an suggum,"* returned the ratcatcher, " I went to run away 
 with an heiress." 
 
 " Well done, captain." 
 
 *■ Paraphrased — " We'll not say much about that." 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 145 
 
 «< Stop — I don't mean myself, but my master, and ye know, that's 
 the same thing." 
 
 '• Who was the heiress ?" 
 
 " Devil have them that knows ! Any body that came in our way." 
 
 " And did you succeed?" 
 
 " Succeed!" exclaimed the ratcatcher ; "Upon my soul, only we 
 gave leg-bail, he would have been hanged, and I left for transpor- 
 tation." 
 
 " He ! — who was he, Shemus ?" 
 
 " "Why, who but my ould master's son, Dick Macnamara." 
 
 " And the expedition was unfortmiate ? " 
 
 " Unfortunate ! how could it be otherwise ? " replied the captain. 
 " Of all the unlucky devils ever born under a ci'oss-grained star, 
 Dick Macnamara, you were the most unlucky 1" 
 
 " Is he dead?" said the fosterer. 
 
 " Dead ! to be sure he is," replied the captain. " lie quarrelled 
 with Savey Blake, at the winter fair of Atlilone ; and, as the morning 
 was wet, they fought in the inn yard. What did the stupid fool his 
 second do, but stick Dick into a corner ! The rain Avas in his face ; 
 and at the first fire, Savey Blake, shot him like a woodcock. I was 
 with him till he died. Indeed, I never knew him have luck but once." 
 
 " Indeed ; and what was that ?" 
 
 *' "WTien he did marry, his wife ran away from him within a 
 quarter." 
 
 " But your English expedition, Shemus. Arrah, man, there's where 
 the shoe pinches ; and I would like to know how ye got on." 
 
 " Got on ! " exclaimed the ratcatcher. " Be gogstay I from the 
 very moment we left home, every thing went wrong with us. But, stop 
 — ^isn't there a well that none but a sinful man woidd pass ? Sit down, 
 avoitrneeitie — there's a drop in the cruiskeein still, and when I take 
 a cobweb out of my throat, I'll tell ye aU the particulars of . 
 
 '^f)t i^^attimonial ^tibtnturts of Bfdi illacnamara. 
 
 It was the siftimer after the great election — and that was in *the 
 year ninety-ongf— and a fine evening it was. At that time, care was 
 far from my lieSirt, and I was taking a dance in the barn with Mary 
 Reo'an, my lady's maid, when out comes Sir Thomas's own man to say 
 that I was wanted in the parlour. " Run, bad luck to ye," says he, 
 " and rU finish the jig for ye ! Arrah, make haste, man ! Some 
 etarnal villin has slipt a paper under the gate, and the ould master's 
 fit to be tied. I never saw him so mad since he was chased home from 
 Galway." Away I goes ; and when I got into the parlour, there I 
 found Sir Thomas, God rest his soul ! Father Pat Butler, the parish 
 priest — and the di'iver, Izzy Blake. 
 
 Sir Thomas was sittin' in the big armed chair he always sate in. 
 He wasn't to say much the worse for liker ; but it was asy to persave 
 that he had been lookin' at somebody that was di'inkin'. The priest, 
 och ! what a head he had ! was cool a^ a cowcumber, and only Izzy's 
 
 L 
 
146 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 nose was a deeper purple than when lie sate down, you wouldn't know 
 he had a drop in. It was quite plain the party were in trouble ; for, 
 to smother grief, the ould master had slipped a second glass of poteeiuc 
 into his tumbler just as I came in, 
 
 " Asy, Sir Thomas ! — Drink asy ! " said the priest. " The whisky's 
 killin' ye by inches ! " 
 
 " Arrah, balderdash ! Pat Butler, won't ye let me take the colour 
 of death off the water, man, and me tln-eatened with the gout ? It's 
 the law that's fairly murderin' me. Bad luck attend all consarned 
 with the same ! At the blast of the mail horn my heart bates like a 
 bird J for within the last two years I have got as many lattitats by 
 post, as would paper the drawin'-room. Shemus Rhua," says he, 
 turning to me, — "did ye see a black-lookin' thief about the place, 
 when ye were hunting the young setters on the moor ? " 
 
 " Ai-rah, Sir Thomas, if I did, don't ye think I would have been after 
 askin' him Avhat he was doin' there?" 
 
 " Sibby Byrn saw him thi'ust these d— d papers under the gate, and 
 then cut over the bog as if the divil was at his heels. Well — small 
 blame to him for runnin' — for, by all that's beautiful, if I had gi-ipped 
 him, he would have gone back to the villain that employs him, lighter 
 by both lugs. Sit down, Shemus. Izzy Blake, fill the boy a glass." 
 And then he began, poor ould gentleman, askin' me about the dogs ; 
 but before I could answer him, he gave a sigh. " Arrah," says he, 
 " what need I be talkin' about dogs, when, after November next, the 
 divil a four-footed baste will be left upon Killcrogher, good nor bad ! " 
 
 " Something must be done immediately," said the priest. " If they 
 foreclose the mortgage, and get a recaver on the estate, we're done for." 
 
 " If we could only raise five thousand to pay that cursed claim, we 
 might stave off the other things till some good luck would turn up,'" 
 said the driver. 
 
 Sir Thomas sighed. Troth, an enemy would have pitied him ! 
 
 " Ai-rah, Izzy Blake — that day will never come ! Don't talk of 
 good luck, that's over with me," says he. " Lord ! to be baten by 
 Peter Daly — and his grandmother before him, keepin' a huxtery in 
 Loughrea — and then to be hunted home afterwards, like a tithe- 
 proctor ! It's enough to di-ive a man to di'ink, or make a quaker kick 
 his own mother." 
 
 You see, Mark, (observed the captain, in explanation,) the ould 
 master had stood for the county. Well, from the time he came into 
 possession of the estate, of course. Sir Thomas Avas like his father, a 
 Sunday man ;* and as he couldn't meet the sheriff openly at the election, 
 what the divil does he do, but he sits out in a boat, where he could 
 hear how things were goin' on, and give orders to the tenants. The 
 Lord sees, the cratures'did all they could for a good master as he was. 
 Didn't they kidnap the electors, tare down the booths, burn Peter 
 Daly's talley-room teetotally,— and throw a jaunting car, with six 
 voters, clane over the bridge — horse, driver, and all ! And what more 
 could they do ? The money bate us in the long-run ; and it was well 
 
 * In olden time, Irish gentlemen found it occasionally convenient to rest from 
 their labours for six days, and only exhibit their persons on the seventh. 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAX. 147 
 
 Sir Tliomas wasn't taken into the bai-gain— tor the bailiffs chased him 
 to the very gates. No wonder then, poor ould gentleman, that the 
 veiy name of the election put him always into a rage. 
 
 " Never mind," said the priest, striving to say something pleasant, 
 and comfort the ould master; " it's a long lane that wants a turn — 
 and luck will come at last. There's yer two sisters, Sir Thomas — 
 the best catholics in Connemara, and ready to travel any moment that 
 they're wanted— if the Lord would only mercifully take them to himself. 
 Indeed, they're too good for this wicked world — and they would be 
 fai' snusser in the next." 
 
 '■ Divfl a chance there," says Sir Thomas ; '• they're the very 
 counterpart of their mother — the Lord be good to her ! — and she 
 lived to ninety-seven." 
 
 " Are ye in the lottery the year ? " asked the priest.^ 
 
 " An-ah, what matter whether I am or not ? " said Sir Thomas. 
 " Hav'n't I been in it since I was a boy, and niver won any thing 
 beyond a blackguard twenty or two ? Upon my conscience, I verily 
 believe, if I had' been bound to a hatter, people would be born without 
 heads!" 
 
 Well, the divil a one could point out the likelihood of luck ; and 
 the poor ould gentleman seemed mighty disconsolate. 
 
 " Arrah," says I, ''• hoidd up, Sir Thomas — who knows but we'U get 
 to the sunny side of the hedge yet ? There's Master Dick— and if he 
 woidd only mai'ry an heiress — " 
 
 " Be dad," says the ould gentleman, " Father Pat, there's sense in that." 
 
 The priest shook his head. 
 
 " And why shouldn't he ?" says Sir Thomas. 
 
 " Because," returned the priest, " he's never out of one scrape till 
 he's into another. And then he's so captious ; if he was in heaven— 
 where the Lord send him in proper time, if possible I — why, he would 
 pick a quarrel with St. Peter." 
 
 " It's all a flow of spirit," says the oidd man. 
 
 «' Ifs a flow of spirits that causes it generally," says the priest ; 
 " but it's all your own fault, Sir Thomas, and I often tould ye so. 
 Instead of lettin' him stick to his larnin', 5-e would have him brought 
 up yer own way, ridin' three times a week to the Clonsallagh hounds, 
 and shooting at chalked men on the barn door through the remainder." 
 
 '• Ai'rah,°be quiet," says the ould gentleman. "Though he's my son 
 —at laste I have his mother's word for it— is there a nater horseman 
 within the Shannon ? Put Dick Macnamara on the pig-skin with any 
 thing dacent anunder him, and I'll back him over a sportin' country 
 for all I'm worth in the world." 
 
 " Ay," said the priest, in a side-whisper ; •• and if ye lost, the divil 
 a much the winner would be the better." 
 
 " He's six feet in his stockings— sound as a bell— heU thi'ow any man 
 of his inches in the province, and dance the pater-o-pee* afterwai-ds." 
 
 " AiTah," says the priest, " if there's no way of payin' the mortgage 
 but by dancin' the pater-o-pee, out we bundle at November." , 
 
 * A dance peculiar to Connemara. 
 L 2 
 
148 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 '•' And why shouldn't he marry an heiress ?" says the ould man, 
 
 " First," says Father Butler, '• because he has no luck ; and second, 
 because he has no larnin'. Wasn't I returnin' from a sick-call only 
 yesterday, and as God's goodness would have it, didn't I meet my 
 Lady French's messenger with a note ? — ' Who's that from ?' says I. 
 ' Mr. Dick Macnamara,' says he. Well, I had a misdoubtin' about it, 
 and so I opens the note — and — 3Iona-sin-dhiaoid! — Lord forgive me 
 for sayin' so ! — if he hadn't spelt ' compliments' with a K !" 
 
 " And if he spelt it with two K's," says the ould gentleman, " will 
 that hinder him marryin' a woman if she wants a husband ? I tell ye 
 what, there's more sense in what Shemus Ehua says than any of ye 
 seems to know. Wasn't the family as badly off when my grandfather — 
 God rest his soul I — ran away with Miss Kelly ?" 
 
 " And where will you get a Miss Kelly now-a-days ? It's not out 
 of every bush you'll kick a lady, lame of a leg, and twenty thousand 
 down upon the nail ! " 
 
 " What was she the worse for that ? " says Sir Thomas. '•' Don't 
 ye mind what my grandfather said to Lord Castletown the week after, 
 ' Didn't I,' says my grandfather, ' manage the matter well, my lord?' 
 ' Ye did in troth, Ulic — and ye made a grate hit of it, if ye'r amiable 
 lady wa.5 only right upon the pins.' 'Well, my lord,' says he — 
 ' what the divU matter if she is a wee bit lame ? Does youi' lordship 
 suj^pose, that men many wives to run races with them ? ' " 
 
 WeU, there's no use makin' a long story about it. At Killcrogher 
 things couldn't be worse than they were ; and, when we had finished a 
 second bottle of poteeine, we all agreed that the divil a chance, good, 
 bad, or indifferent, was left, but for Dick Macnamara to marry a wife 
 with a fortune — and with or without a spavin — -just as the Lord 
 woidd direct it. 
 
 This was all mighty well, but where was the lady to be found ? 
 Of heiresses, there was no scarcity in Galway, if their own story was 
 l)ut true ; but then their fortunes were so well secured, that nather 
 principal nor interest could be got at. 
 
 " England's the place," says the ould master. " Dick would get 
 twenty thousand for the askin'." 
 
 " And how is he to go there?" says the priest. " He must travel 
 like a gentleman^ or they wouldn't touch him with a tent pole — and 
 wliere's the money for that ? " 
 
 " Let L:zy drive the tenants." 
 
 " Arrah, Sir Thomas ! it's asy talkin' — the divil a pound I could 
 drive out of them to save yer life. Mona-sin-dhiaoul ! ye might as 
 well expect blood from a turnip, or to borrow knee-buckles off a 
 riielanman." 
 
 Well, we were fairly nonplushed for a tune, but we got mattera 
 right afterwards. The ould ladies, the master's sisters, had a trifle by 
 tliem, if any body could manage to get at it. Well, the priest put it 
 to them, for the glory of God ; and Sir Thomas, for the honour of the 
 family. They came down at last, and, between them, for a hun- 
 dred. Sir Thomas lent us his own pistols, and Izzy Blake passed his 
 v»-ord in Galway for the clothes. By St. Patrick I we were in such 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAX. 149 
 
 bad credit there, that over the whole town we wouldn't have got as 
 much as would have made a surtout for a Lochryman.* On the 
 strength of Izzy, however, we taught book-keeping to a tailor. His 
 name, I mind, was Jerry Riley — and I fancy we're in liis ledger to 
 this day. 
 
 I'll never forget the mornin' we started. We set out at six o'clock, 
 as we had to ride to Moylough to catch the Tuam mail. Every soul 
 in Killcrogher Avas astir, and waitin' at door or windy to see us off 
 — some givin' their blessin', and others their good advice. 
 
 " ]Mind yer eye, Dick !" said the ould gentleman from the parloiu'. 
 
 " Don't take any thing but what's ready," cried the priest from the 
 hall door. 
 
 " Eemember you're of the Coolavins by the mother's side," called 
 my lady from her bed-room ; " so look to blood as well as suet, 
 Dick." 
 
 " The money — the money," cried the priest. 
 
 " Dick, deal', ye're on book-oath to me!" whispered Mary Regan, 
 as we passed her. 
 
 " Don't be quarrelling about trifles," said the priest. 
 
 " Nor let any body tramp upon yoiu- corn, for all that," cried Sir 
 Tliomas. 
 
 " The money — the money, Dick— and that's the last words of ye'r 
 clai'gy," roai'ed the priest. 
 
 '•"Don't miss mass, if you can," screamed the ould ladies from the 
 lobby. 
 
 " Am-gud-Jieeish!"\ and father Butler signed his blessing after 
 us as we rode away. 
 
 " Stop! stop!" roared the ould master. "Another word, and 
 God keep ye, Dick ! Always fight with ye'r back to the sun. Drink 
 slow — don't mix ye'r licker, nor sit with ye'r back to the fire — and the 
 divil won't put ye under the table ! " 
 
 These were the last words we heard — the gatekeeper's wife flung 
 an ould shoe after us for luck — and away we w-ent to make our 
 fortune. 
 
 Wlien we reached Moylough, the coach was standin' before the door 
 of the hotel, for the passengers had gone in to breakfast ; and by 
 the time we had taken the dust out of our throats with a throw at 
 the counter, the company had come out again. Two or three of them 
 roofed it like myself; and one lady, with blue feathers and a yalla 
 pelisse, stepped inside. vShe was a cHpper ! and there was enough of 
 her into the bargain. As Master Dick travelled like a raal gentleman, 
 of eoorse, he hopped in too. 
 
 Well, when we stopped to change horses, Dick and the lady were 
 thick as inkle-wavers. " Shemus," says he, " bring out a glass of 
 sherry, and a di-op of water in the bottom of a tumbler, with a sketch 
 of sperits through it." They drank genteely to each other, and away 
 we rowled again. Indeed, at every stop the same order was repated. 
 
 * A diminutive sprite xvho inhabits lakes, and seems a species of the Scotch 
 Kelpie. 
 
 •f Anylici — Money paid upon the nail. 
 
150 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 The lady was comin' from the saa, and that made her dry, I suppose ; 
 and from the time he was a boy, Dick Macnamara had an unquench- 
 able thirst upon him. 
 
 We reached Athlone in the evening, and stopped at the Red Lion, 
 ]3ick handed out the lady with the yalla pelisse ; and ye would have 
 thought they would have shaken each other's hands ofi'. Well, a maid- 
 sarvant took her bandbox — Dick give her the ai'm — away they flou- 
 rished together — and I stayed at the inn door to see the luggage safe 
 off the coach. 
 
 Before long the young master returned. 
 
 *' Shemus," says he, shuttin' the door behind him, '• isn't Miss 
 Callaghan a spanker ? " 
 
 " 'Pon my soul, she's a cliver girl, with fine action," says I. 
 
 " Bad luck to ye !" said he, " ye talk of her as ye would of a horse. 
 But, Shemus, I thought as we were all alone, I would try if I could 
 put my comethcr over her by the way of practice. Och ! if she was 
 only an heiress ! When I kissed her at partiu' in the hall, she tould 
 }ne she could follow me over the world." 
 
 Well, after we had supped, Master Dick sends for me to come up 
 stairs ; and as it was too soon to go to bed, down we sate over a hot 
 tumbler to settle what was to be done when we got to London. Ye 
 see, we knew that in England there were heiresses galore* — but the 
 thing was, how the divil were we to find them ? 
 
 Well, after we had been talkin' half an hour, in comes the waiter. 
 '' Is there one Mister Macnamara here?" says he. 
 
 " That's me," Dick answers. 
 
 " Mister Callaghan's after askin' for ye," says he. 
 
 " Parade him," says Dick. 
 
 So in steps an ould gentleman, clane shaved enough, but about the 
 clothes, he had rather a shuck appearance. He bows, and Dick bows 
 — and down sits the ould gentleman, an' draws over a tumbler. 
 
 " Ye had a pleasant journey of it, Mister Macnamara," says he, 
 commencin' the conversation. " My daughter says that ye're the best 
 of company. In troth, she spakes large of ye." 
 
 With that they di-inks one another's health — an' from one thing 
 they comes on to another. I had pulled my chair away to the corner, 
 ye see, but Dick winked to me as much as to say, " Shemus, stay 
 where ye are." 
 
 " An' so ye're goin' to better yourself with a wife ?" says the ould 
 fellow. 
 
 " There's no denyin' it," says Dick. 
 
 " Well, 'pon my conscience, it's the best thing ivir a young man 
 did, for it keeps him out of harm's way. An' are ye for soon changin' 
 ye'r state ? " 
 
 " Divil a use tellin' lies among friends," says Dick. " The sooner 
 the better." 
 
 " Feath — an' it has come rather sudden upon Sophy," says Mister 
 Callaghan. " But, God's will be done ! Her brother will be home in 
 
 * Aiiglice — In plenty. 
 
HECTOR o'HALLORAN. 151 
 
 an hour. I wish tliei'e was only time to send fur Iier mother to 
 Koscrea." 
 
 '•' What's wanted with her mother ?" sajs Dick. 
 
 " Nothin' partikler," says Mr. Callaghan, " only the ould Lady would 
 like to see her little girl mai'ried." 
 
 " An' when is she to be married?" inquired Dick. 
 
 *' ^Vhj, as there seems to be a hurry," replies the ould fellow, " it 
 may as well be done ' out of the face.' " 
 
 " An' if it wouldn't be an impertinent question," says Dick, " arrah ! 
 who's to be the happy man ? " 
 
 " An' are ye jokin' ?" says ould Callaghan. "Arrah, who should it 
 be, but yourself?" 
 
 " Myself?" says Dick. " Shemus," says he — " the divil an appear- 
 iince of liker's on the ould man, what does he mane at all ? " 
 
 " Of coorse," says I, " that ye're goin' to marry his daughter. 
 
 ■" Exactly," cried ould Callaghan. 
 
 " If she's not married till she marries me, she'll be single for a month 
 of Sundays," says Dick. 
 
 Up jumps the ould fellow in a rage — and up jumps Dick Macnamara 
 — and then such fendin' and provin', and such racketting through 
 the room — till out rushed Mister Callaghan, swarin' he would be 
 revenged before he slept. 
 
 When he slammed to the door, I turns round to Dick, to ask what 
 it was all about ? 
 
 *' Arrah, the divil have them that knows," says he ; '• I just coorted 
 ji little bit with the girl as we were alone in the coach, by the way of 
 fcringin' my han' in before we got to England." 
 
 " Be my soul," says I, '' ye've made a nate kettle of fish of it ! — 
 Arrah, Dick, avourneeine — ar'n't ye in the centre of a hobble — coort- 
 ing's one thing, and marryin's another — Wouldn't the priest be proud 
 of ye to go back with JNIiss Callaghan under ye're arm ? — and with 
 about as much money as would pay turnpike for a walking stick." 
 
 Feaks, things looked but quare the more we considered them ; 
 so we thought we would order a chaise, push on to Moate, and lave 
 Sophy Callaghan to her own amiable family, as she was too valuable 
 for us. But, as matters turned up, we wer'n't allowed to set off as asy 
 as we intended. Before the chaise could come round, we heard feet 
 upon the stairs, and the door opens, and in comes five as loose lookin' 
 lads as ye would meet in a day's walk. They were all fresh, as if they 
 had been hard at the di'inkin', — and they were bent on mischief, — for 
 the second fellow had a twist in the eye, and a pistol-case under his arm. 
 
 " Mister Macnamara," says the first, " my name's Callaghan. There's 
 no use for any rigmarole, as the light's goin' fast, so I just stepped in 
 to ask you consarnin' your intentions towards my sister Sophy." 
 
 " The divil an intention have I, good or bad, about ye'r sister Sophy," 
 replied Dick, as stifi" as a churchwarden. 
 
 " Then ye can be at no loss to guess the consequence ?" 
 
 " Feaks, an' I am," says Dick ; " as I'm no conjuror." 
 
 " If ye don't marry her wdthin an hour," says he, "I'll be after 
 sayin' something disagreeable." 
 
152 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " I'll not keep ye in suspense half tlie time," replied Dick. 
 
 ■" Then ye'll marry her?" says he. 
 
 " You were nivir more astray," replied Dick, " since ye were born.' 
 
 '■' Then I'll trouble ye for satisfaction," says he. 
 
 " With all my heart," says Dick. 
 
 " "What time in the mornin'," said the other, " would fit ye'r conva- 
 nience ?" 
 
 " We're rather in a hurry," says Dick, pointin' to the post-chay that 
 had come round, and on which the hostler was tyin' the traps, "to-night 
 would be a great accommodation, if it was the same to you." 
 
 " Ye ca'n't do better," says one of the others, " than step up to the 
 ball-room. There's good light still, and the room's long enough." 
 
 Be gogstay ! Dick Macnamara closed with the offer like a man. 
 I was sent for the pistols, and the gentlemen called for a bottle of 
 sherry. You see, in case of accident, it would come well before a 
 jury that they drank each other's healths, and fought in perfect friend- 
 ship, for that would benefit the survivor. 
 
 They slipped into the ball-room, and every body thought the thing 
 was settled, they were so quiet and civil with each other as they went 
 up stairs. The pistols were charged — "An' now," says Callaghan, 
 " for the last time, I ask ye, will ye have my sister Sophy?" 
 
 " Arrah, don't lose the light in talkin' — ye have my answer already," 
 says Dick Macnamara. 
 
 Well, they were placed in the corners of the room, and a man with 
 a red nose asked, "if they were ready?" Both said, " Yes !" "Fire!" 
 says he. Slap off went both pistols like the clapping of a hand, and 
 down di'opped Mr. Callaghan with a ball clane into his calf. — 
 Well, every body ran to lift him, when, suddenly, the cry of murder 
 was raised from the other end of the room, and out dashed a man in 
 a shirt and scarlet night-cap, and a fat woman close at his heels, just 
 as they had tumbled out of bed. 
 
 "Oh, Holy Moses!" says he. "Save our lives! Murder! 
 Murder!" 
 
 " AVhat's wrong with ye, honest man?" says I. 
 
 " Give us time for repentince ! " says she, droppin' on her knees. 
 "We're dalers in soft goods, and obliged to tell lies in the way of bisnis." 
 
 " For shame," says I, " for a dacent young woman to come before 
 company in that way ! — Arrali, put the petticoat on ye at least." 
 Troth, it was no wonder the cratures were scared. — Ye see, there 
 was a closet off the ball-room, divided with a wooden partition ; and 
 as the house was full, and the travellers tired, they stuck them into it 
 for the night. Divil a one of us, in the hurry, thought of lookin' in ; 
 and when the man 'woke with the noise, and sate up to listen what the 
 matter was, the fellow with the red nose cried " Fire !" and Callaghan's 
 ball pops through the partition, and Avhips the tassel off the daler's 
 night-cap. 
 
 Well, for fear of any fresh shindy, I got the luggage tied upon the 
 shay, Dick shook hands with Callaghan, and sent his compliments to 
 his sister Sophy, — and away we drove to Moate; and the next 
 evening got safe to Dublin. 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 153 
 
 Of all the jobs ever a man undertook, the sorest Avas to look after 
 Dick Macnamara. Ye might as well herd a basketful of black-beetles, 
 as keep him in sight : and the two days we stopped in Dublin, thougii 
 I watched him like a bailiff, he got into two fights — rid of thirty 
 pounds — and snug into the watchhouse afterwards. 'Pon my soul, my 
 heai't was fairly broke with him. AYhen we landed at Holyhead, and 
 were fairly out of L'elan', says I to myself, " Maybe we may come 
 some speed now j" hut Mona-shi-dhiaoid! — our troubles were only 
 beginnin'. 
 
 Troth, at one time, I thought we would never have reached Lon- 
 don at all : and as it was, we were thi-ee weeks upon the road. T\"e 
 never stopped for the night, but Dick discovered some divil to detain us. 
 One while he would be in love with the mistress, and at another, dyin' 
 about the maid — and all of them he swore upon the book to marry on 
 his retiu-n. We came to England to look for one woman — an' if he 
 had but kept liis word, we would have gone back with one and twenty ; 
 but as matters turned out, the divil a wife we brought home at all at all. 
 
 While he would be philandrin' at the inns, I was makin' inquiries 
 for a lady that would fit us ; and though I heard tell of three as we 
 came along, the divil an eye, let alone a finger, Dick Macnamara iver 
 could get on ather of them — for we had always the worst of luck. The 
 first we tried was the daughter of a squire, and as we were crossin' the 
 fence to get into the pleasure-ground, that I heard she generally walked 
 in, we were spied by a keeper on the watch, and taken for poachers he 
 had chased before, and, only that his gun missed fire, we would have 
 been murdered on the spot. AVe made an offer at a widdo', but Dick 
 managed to slip into a steel trap, and nearly lost his leg. Another 
 trial was at a ward of Chancery, and we were hardly in the domain, tUl 
 we were handed over by her guardian to the beadles. They swore we 
 were rogues and vagabonds, and clapt us into the stocks for the even- 
 ing, and give us a free lodgin' the same night in a place they called the 
 cage. At last we managed to get up to London, Dick with one skirt 
 only to his coat, as he had lost the other in a skrimmage with a constable ; 
 and a rap more than three guineas and a half, we hadn't between us to 
 bless ourselves on ! Nobody could tell how the rest of the ould ladies' 
 hundred went, but Dick Macnamara and the divil. 
 
 Well, the first thing we did was to look after our luggage, which we 
 foimd ; and the next to inquire if there was a letter from Connemara at 
 the post-office, and sure enough there was, and every soul in Killcrogher 
 seemed to have had a hand in it. Sir Thomas said that he was as well 
 pleased that Callaghan wasn't kilt ; but the shot grieved him, it was so 
 low ; and he begged Dick in future, to take his man as near about the 
 waistband of the breeches as he could. He said that the attorneys, 
 bad luck to them ! were tormentin' him as usual ; and as he never 
 opened a letter now, except he knew what it was about, he tould Dick 
 when he wrote home, to put a cross upon the corner. Lady Mac, as 
 we used to call her for shortness, wished to know when she Avas to 
 expect her daughter-in-law. Mary Regan was afeard she couldn't 
 stay much longer in her place — and the priest stuck to the ould tune of 
 the Ara-gud-neeish. He tould Dick to be as quick as he could ; and if 
 
154 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 there was like to be any delay, to send over a part of the fortune, as 
 they were greatly shuck for money. Wer'n't we in a nate pickle — not 
 worth five pound in the world, and the people at home expecting 
 thousands by return of post ! 
 
 Well, we Iiad takin a lodgin' near the Seven Dials ; it was chape, 
 that was one reason ; and one likes to get as near Christians as they 
 can, and that was another. I walked out, not well knowin' what 
 to do ; and before I crossed the second street, who should I drop upon, 
 promiscuisly, but Biddy Hagan, with a basket on her arm. She had 
 bin dairy-maid at Killcrogher, and ran off with a corplar that was 
 recruitin' there ten years ago. 
 
 " Ai-rah, Biddy," says I, " is this you ?" 
 
 *' And who else should it be ?" says she ; " maybe ye would oblige 
 us with your own name, young man ? " 
 
 " Di ye remember Shemus McGreal ?" says I. 
 
 "Is it Shemus, the whipper, at Killcrogher ?" says she. 
 
 " The very same ; and here he is." 
 
 With that she blessed herself—" Holy IMoses !" says she, " but 
 ye're grown ! Ai-rah, step in, an' for ould times we'll have a flash of 
 lightnin'." 
 
 In we turns into the sign of St. Patrick, and calls for half-a-pint. 
 I tould her all the news, and all about what had brought us from the 
 ould country over here. 
 
 " Ah, Shemus," says Biddy, " myself would travel ten mile to sarve 
 a dog that was iver at Killcrogher — and ye have made no speed? 
 Och, hone, an' more's the pity ! " 
 
 So I ups and tells her the rason we were fairly batin' — all because 
 we couldn't find out an heiress, good nor bad. 
 
 " Oh, saver of the bog ! " says she, " if ye'es only had the luck to 
 have fallen into company with Miss Figgins ! " 
 
 " And who's Miss Figgins ?" says L 
 
 " She's the only cliild of ould Figgins of Puddin' Lane, the richest 
 grocer in the city, an' that's a big word." 
 
 " Arrah, Brideeine, avournecine ! — is there any way we could come 
 across her ? " 
 
 " Ai-rah, the divil a one of me can tell," says she. " It's me that 
 carries home the markittin', and the kitchen maid's a Cork woman, born 
 in Cloonakitty — and we're as thick as mustard. Be the Lord ! " says 
 she, " but I'll bring ye together in the twinklin' of a bed-post, if je'll 
 just sit where ye are. Have an eye to the basket, for the house isn't 
 ovir onist, if there ar'nt liars in the world ;" — an' away cut Biddy 
 Hagan. 
 
 She wasn't more than ten minutes, till back she comes with Oney 
 Donovan. We called another half-pint, and drank to better acquaint- 
 ance. " Oney," says she, " astore ! tell us all about ould Figgins' 
 daughter, if you please, for this gentleman's master has come ovir for 
 a wife. The Lord speed him to get the same ! " 
 
 " Och, then I'm sorry to say," says Oney, " they'U be no dalin' 
 in our house, for Miss Sophiar's to be man-ied a Friday mornin'." 
 
 " Oh, murder ! " says I. 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 155 
 
 " A murder it is," says she ; '■' thirty thousan' goin' to a divil ye 
 wouldn't kick out of a petatay gai'den, because he's rich as a Jew, and 
 rides in a sheriff's carrige." 
 
 "Wasn't this too bad ? The very woman that would have fitted us 
 to a T! 
 
 Well, we were all sorely cast down at it ; so we called another pint 
 — and we couldn't do less, as we were in trouble. 
 
 " Be gogstay ! " says I, " couldn't we run away with her ? This 
 is but Monday; and if the time's short, we must only be the 
 handier." 
 
 Well, blood's tliicker than water ! and Brideeine, Oney, and myself 
 settled all before we parted. Ach of them was to be settled at Kill- 
 crogher for life — and, after a thi'ow at the counter, we parted till next 
 mornin'. 
 
 I lost half the evenin' in makin' out Dick Macnamara. He was the 
 unluckiest member iver any body was consarned with. The time was 
 short — every moment worth goold — and when he should have been in 
 the way (I'll not bid bad luck to him, as he's dead), where the divil 
 should I hoak him out, after tatterin' over half the town, but in a 
 back attic in a blind alley, where he was drinking taa wid a stay- 
 maker ? 
 
 Well, short as the time was, we got all ready for the marriage ; and 
 the devil a one of JMiss Figgins's dramed the trouble we were takin' 
 to get her settled. She was what they call a Methodist, and went 
 regularly to chapel, and she thought she was to receive the blessin' of 
 the clargy on Friday morning at some church — and we thought it 
 better to marry her on the Wednesday night before it, and save both 
 ceremony and expense ; and, only for himself, the stupid fool ! Miss 
 Figgins would have been Dick Macnamara's wife, as sui'e as the 
 hearth money. 
 
 We had no trouble in life to get plenty of help in St. Giles' — and 
 Oney Donovan Lid Dick Macnamara in a loft that looked into the 
 grocer's breakfast-parlour, from which he could see jNIiss Figgins, and 
 make himself acquaint with her fatures and her clothes. All was fixed 
 for watchin' her from the chapel — and at the corner of a quiet street, 
 through which she had to go to her own house, a chay, with a trusty 
 di'iver, was to be ready to whip her off. Dick Macnamara was to be 
 quietly sittin' inside. When she was passin', the boys were to lift her 
 in, and away we were to drive like lightnin' to a lonely house five mile 
 out of town, where a couple-beggar was ready to tie the knot. Sori'a 
 iiater planned thing could be— but the divil a plan was iver formed in 
 this world, that Dick Macnamara wouldn't make ducks and drakes of. 
 
 Well, now that every thing was fixed, we thought it would be 
 better to write home, to keep all quiet in Killcrogher ; and Dick took 
 up the pen, though he would as soon have swallowed poison. In the 
 letter, we tould Sir Thomas how we were gettin' on since we came to 
 London, and showed him that we were in a fair way, atlier " to make 
 a spoon or spoil a horn," as they say in Connaught ; and Ave begged 
 him to keep his heart up, and the gates closed, till he heard from us 
 again. We requested Father Pat to stick to the ould gentleman, and 
 
156 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 not let him think upon the law but as little as he could, Dick sent 
 liis love to Mary Regan, and I my humble duty to the ladies. Sorra 
 word we mentioned, good or bad, of our puttin' in an evenin' in the 
 stocks. "VVe also tould them a big lie, the Lord pardon us ! and that 
 was, that we heai-d mass reglar, although the devil a ather of us had 
 listened to a single Ave, since we blessed ourselves the Sunday before 
 we left home, in the chapel of Killcroghcr. No wonder, in troth, 
 that such a pair of hathens should have the worst of luck, for sure we 
 desarved it. 
 
 "Wednesday came, and all was ready for the venture. The women 
 stuck to us like bricks ; and Oney brought the news, that for sartin 
 Miss Figgins would attend the chapel that evening, for there was a 
 grate pracher to hould forth. At proper time, the postchay was in the 
 street, and Dick skrulged up in the corner of it. Three fine strappin' 
 boys from St. Giles's (all first-cousins of Biddy Donovan's) and 
 myself, took our sate in the front windy of a porter-house, and Oney 
 kept watch at the corner, to give us the word when her mistress 
 would appear. Be gogstay ! we had only called the second pint before 
 Oney cuts by the windy, with the news that the flock were comin' out, 
 and the woman we wanted would be with us in less than a pig's 
 whisper ; an' aAvay she pelted home, to be safe in the house, — an' then 
 ye know, of coorse, she would never be suspected. 
 
 Up jumps the boys : "Here's luck ! " says I, turning down a cropper, 
 in which they joined me. We then claps on our caubeens, and slips 
 out of the door, — an' sure enough, at the bottom of the street we sees 
 two ladies comin' forid. " TVliieh is the woman ? " says I to Dick, who 
 was peepin' from the wee windy in the back of the shay. " Her in 
 the blue bonnet," says he. 
 
 Egad, I was rather surprised at the appearance of the woman that 
 Dick Macnamara pointed out to us. To do her justice, she was good- 
 lookin' enough — but, faith, she was no chicken — and nather in dress 
 nor action what ye would expect from a reglar heiress, and, as Oney 
 said, the biggest grocer in the city. I remembered that they said she 
 was a Methodist — and, thinks I, maybe that's the rason she goes so 
 plain. 
 
 Well, I gives the word to Biddy Donovan's cousins, in a whisper, 
 and in L-ish. Divil a handier boys iver assisted in a job of the kind, 
 — they lifts her oflT the pavement in a twinklin' ; and, before ye could 
 say Jack Robinson, she was fairly sated beside Dick Macnamara, with 
 a handkerchief stuck into her mouth, to keep down the squallin' ! 
 " Hoogh ! off we starts — and I threw my eye over my shoulder as 
 I was sittin' by the driver — IMiss Figgins was kickin' like the divil — - 
 but as Dick had a fast hould of her, we didn't mind that. 
 
 " Whoop ! " says Tony Braddigin — that was the postboy's name — 
 " Isn't it eligint, Shemus, jewel ?" says he. In troth, there never was 
 anything better managed ; for we heard afterv/ards that not a mortal 
 saw anything that passed, but an ould Charley, — an' as the Carneys 
 ran past him — they were, ye know, Bidd}^ Donovan's cousins, by the 
 mother's side — one of them gave him the fist ; an', for a fortnight 
 afterwards, he couldn't teU light from darkness. 
 
HECTOR 0'hA.LL0RAN. 157 
 
 " " TVell, by this time we were clear of the town, and it was nearly 
 twilight. I turned round now that we were safe, to see how matters 
 were°gettin' on within, and if Dick was makiu' love to her. TTell, 
 I put the question to liim in Irish, and he answered in the same : — 
 " De je think," says he, '• I'm not workm' for the best— but wheniver, 
 to make her asy, I tell her we'll marry out of the face, by Jakers ! 
 she kicks the harder. " 
 
 " Sorra soul's witliin hearin'," says I — '•' so take the handkercliief 
 out of her mouth and give her air — for maybe she's chokin'— and 
 that's what makes her kick." 
 
 He did what I bid him— and. Lord! what a tongue she had when she 
 got the use of it ! — and not a word for ather of us but thief and villain. 
 I disremember how she swore; but if she had been born in Connaught, 
 the oaths couldn't have come asier. 
 
 '•' Ye etarnal robbers!" says she, "what do ye want? I have no 
 money about me, and I suppose I'm to be murdered ! " 
 
 '• We want nothing in the world," says Dick, " but to make ye an 
 honest woman ;" manin', of course, to marry her lawfully. 
 
 '• Make me an honest woman ! — why, ye common thieves, what do 
 ye mane ? " 
 
 Dick made a kind of a confused story of it, but she didn't wait to the end. 
 
 " Oh, murder I murder !" she called out—" Marry me! and get me 
 transported ? " 
 
 " Transported?" says Dick. 
 
 " To be sure I would," says she ; " marryin' you, and my own lawful 
 husband alive ! Ai-rah, Sam Singlestich, dear !— little did I think, 
 when I made taa for ye this evenin', that I woidd be bundled off by 
 these villains ! " 
 
 " And who's INIister vSinglestich ? " says I. 
 
 " Who ? ye thief of the world ! but my lawful hnsband ! Oh, bad 
 luck attend ye, night and day ! — ye have the gallows in ye're face," 
 says she, lookin' full at me, " and it's one comfort, if I hve to escape, 
 I'll hear the Judge tellin' ye'r fortune at the Ould Baily.^ Troth, and 
 I'll go to see ye hanged, too, even if it cost me five shiUins for an 
 opposite windy." . r\ n 
 
 " Arrah," says the postilion, turnin' shai'p roxmd at the word 'Ould 
 Baily,' and 'being hanged,'—" what's all this about?" 
 
 " Honest woman," says I (for Dick seemed stupified) — "' who the 
 divil are ye ? — Ai-'n't ye Miss Figgins ?" 
 
 "Miss ?— yer mother I" says she ;— "I'm the wife of a dacent trades- 
 man, and the lawful mother of five children ;— an' I'll show them again 
 any within a mile of Huggin Lane." 
 
 " Oh," says the postboy, jumpin' out of the saddle— "by the powers 
 of pewter ! we're all dead men ! " and, at one spring, he clears the 
 fence, and cuts over hedge and ditch like a madman. 
 
 " And," says I to myself, " maybe I'm goin' to sit here and be 
 hanged?"— and down I hops too. Dick Macnamara seemed to be of 
 the same opinion, for he was on the road already. We takes the country 
 ont of the face, as if we were matched for a hundred— lavin' the tailor's 
 wife and the two post-horses — the one to look after the other. 
 
15S THE FORTUNES CF 
 
 Every body that iver rode to a fox-hound, knows that it's the pace that 
 kills ; and, for two miles, Dick and I crossed the country neck and neck, 
 takin' every thing in stroke as the Lord sent it. No wonder, when we 
 came to a cross-road, that both were dead baten, and that Dick called 
 out, for the love of God, to stop for a minute or two that we might 
 get second wind for a fresh stai't. Down we sate upon the ditch ; and 
 when I got breath enough, I began to abuse Dick Macnamara like a 
 pickpocket. 
 
 " Arrah," says I, " what sins have I committed, that I'm to be ruinated 
 through you ? If iver the divil had a fast hould of a sinner, it's yourself, 
 Dick ! Was there iver a man so asily put in the ready way to make a 
 fortune ? Wasn't the lady med out — the rough work done — and sorra 
 thing for you to do, but sit like a gintleman quietly in the chaise, 
 pay yer lady some tender attention, and keep her mouth stuffed Avitli 
 a pocket-handkerchif. And how beautiful ye put your fut in it ! Oh, 
 Holy Joseph I — to run away with a tradesman's wife, and the mother 
 of five childer into the bargain ! " 
 
 He began mutterin' something about a mistake, and talked about 
 blue bonnets and yalla ones. 
 
 " What ai'e we to do?" says I, interruptin' him. "'Arrah, have 
 done Avid yer balderdash an' yer bonnets ; — havn't ye made a pretty 
 gommogue* of yerself? Where are we to head to? and how are we to 
 chate the gallows ? Blessed Bridget ! — to be hanged in the flower of 
 my youth, for runnin' away w4th the mother of a family ! " 
 
 Before I had done spakin', we hears a carriage comin' up at splittin' 
 speed. We ducked into the ditch to let it pass — and at one look I 
 knew it to be the very chay we had brought with us on our unfortunit 
 expedition. The horses had run ofi"; and as they j^assed us at a 
 gallop, we heard the tailor's wife shoutin' a thousand murders. 
 
 " Arrah ! what's to be done at all at all," says I, as the carriage 
 cantered on. "I haven't the ghost of a rap about me. "WTiat money 
 have you, Dick ? " 
 
 " Five or six shiUins," says he, " to pay the turnpikes, and a light 
 guinea for the marriage money." 
 
 " All, then, ye won't require it, Dick, avourneeine" says I. " Any 
 little job in future ye want from the clargy, they'll trate ye to it for 
 nothin'. It's a comfort when a man comes to the gallows, that he's 
 provided with a priest." 
 
 But what need I bother ye with all the misfortune that kem over 
 us ? Half the time we lay out in barns, or under hay-stacks ; for if 
 we ventured into the parlour of a public-house, the divil a tiling ye 
 would hear talked of but the attempt upon the tailor's wife — vrith a 
 reward of fifty pound for the intended murderers, and a description of 
 their persons. 
 
 At last we were fairly worn out with hunger and fatigue, without 
 a shoe to our feet, or a scurrick in our pockets, and nothing was left 
 for us but to list. Accordingly, we joined the first party that we met, 
 and the sergeant gave us plinty of entertainment, and two pound a 
 
 » Anglice — an idiot. 
 
HECTOR OHALLARAN. ir)9 
 
 man. "We were to be attested the next mornin' ; but as he didn't like 
 our looks, he put us in the room where the corplar slept, and took 
 care to lock the door cai'efuUy behind him. I guessed as much, and, 
 feaks, I determined the divil another yard we would keep company, if 
 I could help it ; and maybe I didn't succeed ? AVlien we Avere locked 
 in, 1 produces a bottle of rum, and the corplar — who was a drunken 
 divil — and I finished it by moonlight, hand to fist. I lifts him into 
 bed blind drunk ; and when the house was quiet, I wakens Dick Mac- 
 namara, and we opened the windy fair and asy, and lowered ourselves 
 by the blankets to the ground. We travelled night an' day — exchanged 
 our clothes for stable-jackets — and at last, we had the luck to be taken 
 into the yard of an inn, and there get employment as helpers — and 
 when at Killcrogher they thought we were travellin' homeward in 
 our own coach, it's most likely we were grazing the Avheels of his chay 
 for some travellin' bagman. 
 
 "Well, Dick was wispin' a horse — and the only two things in this 
 world he could do dacently was to warm one after a fox, and w^isp 
 him dry afterwards — when in comes one of a recruitin' party to ask 
 some question about his otficer. When he went away I says to Dick 
 in L'ish — 
 
 " The divil welcome the last visitor. Wheniver I see a bunch of 
 ribbons in a sodger's cap, I always get a start, and think that it's one 
 of the lads we listed with, that's comin' to look after his own." 
 
 " Feaks ! an' I'm not overly asy in their company ather," says Dick 
 back to me — and him and I continues talkin' and laughin' at how 
 stupid the corplar looked in the mornin', when he found an open windy 
 and an empty bed, 
 
 " And so," says a voice at our elbow, " ye gave his majesty leg- 
 bail, boys ! " 
 
 We gave a start, and looked roiuid, and who was standin' close 
 to us but a -little dark-visaged gentleman, with a twist in the eyes thai; 
 didn't improve him much — and by the whole look of him, the very 
 last man you would meet in a day's walk, that ye would borrow money 
 to spend in company with. 
 
 You may be sure that Dick and I were scared enough. " Egad," 
 thought I, " we are ketched at last, and this dark divil wall split upon 
 us — and then the first march w411 be to the black-hole for desarchin' ; 
 and the second, to the gallows, for the murder of a tailor's wife, only 
 that we didn't kill her. Well, I struv to put it off" as a joke, but the 
 wee black fellow was too deep for it ; and he spoke the best of Irish 
 too. 
 
 '' Badershin .'" says he, with a wink of one of his quare eyes, " T!fj- 
 gum tigue Tiggeeine!"* It won't do, boys, I'm not in the recruitin' 
 line, so ye needn't be afeerd of me. But, as ye have been on the tramp, 
 in the coorse of yer rambles did ye happen to hear anything about Sir 
 Richai-d Macnamara ? " 
 
 Be the powders of pewter ! the question made us start. 
 
 * These terms being rendered into common English, mean — " Be quiet — you 
 can't humbuff me." 
 
160 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " No, Sir," says I ; " but if you had inquii-ed after ould Sir 
 Thomas, I could have given ye a better answer." 
 
 " What Sir Thomas ?" says he. 
 
 " Why, what other, but Sir Thomas of Killcrogher ?" 
 
 " Divil a such a man lives there," says he. 
 
 '' Nabocliish!" says I; " maj^be I wasn't bred and born under 
 him ?" 
 
 " That may be true," says he ; " it's Sir Richard I want to see. I 
 wouldn't give a traneeine to be in comi)any with Sir Thomas." 
 
 " Ah ! then," says I, "what wouldn't I give to be cheek-be-jowl 
 with the ould gentleman." 
 
 " Divil have the liars !" says the wee fellow in return ; " for if ye 
 had y'er wish, ye would have a ton weight of lime and mortar on the 
 top of ye." 
 
 " Christ Stan' between us and evil !" says I, crossin' myself. " You 
 don't mane that he's dead ?" 
 
 " Faith an' if he's not," says the w^ee black fellow, " they have takin' 
 a great liberty with him, for they buried him in Killcrogher on Tues- 
 day week — and I have been tatterin' over half England in search of his 
 son. Be the Lord !" says he, " ye might as well grip liould of a Ban- 
 shee.* For all the tidings I could get of him was, that a ruffin, 
 called Shemus Rhua, ran off vrith a tailor's wife ; and he, the villin, 
 persuaded the good-natured young gentleman to follow him." 
 
 Well, who shoidd the little man be but a lawyer sent in pursuit of 
 Dick ; and, without delay, we set off for home ; and, when we got 
 there, said as little about England as we could. It was supposed that 
 Sir Richard might have cleared Killcrogher if he had taken the right 
 way ; but he set up a pack of fox-hounds, and married a dashin' lady 
 because that she could ride to them to fortune. A few years settled 
 the busnis— and what Sir Thomas had begun Sir Richard cliverly 
 complated. The dogs Avere sent adrift, the horses canted by the 
 sheriff, my lady boulted with a light dragoon, and, to finish all, one 
 wet mornin', poor Dick was brought home upon a door, dead as a 
 herrin'. There's not one stone standin' on the other at Killcrogher ; 
 and of one of the ouldest and the best estates within the province, 
 there's not a sod of it now in possession of a man of the name 
 of Macnamara. 
 
 ■" The Banshee is a spirit attached to old Irish families, who foretells deaths 
 and other calamities by melancholy ■wailings before they occur. He is ne^er 
 seen. 
 
HECTOR OHALLOKAN. 161 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 MY GRANDFATHER. 
 
 " Cor. Sir, do you know me ? 
 
 Still, still far wide ! 
 Phi/. He's scarce awake — Let him alone awhile — 
 Lear. Where have I been ? — where am I ? — fair daylight : 
 
 I am mightily abused — I should even die with pity, 
 
 To see another thus — I know not what to say." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 "With pleasant and profitable reminiscences of burglary and abduc- 
 tion, Shemus Rhua entertained tlie fosterer on the road, until the 
 worthy t^ain accomplished their journey in perfect safety, and en- 
 sconced themselves, as we mentioned before, in that safe and salubrious 
 section of the Modern Babylon, supposed to be under the immediate 
 protection of St. Patrick, and the especial surveillance of the police, 
 vulgarly ycleped the Seven Dials. There we shall leave them to 
 recover from the fatigues incident to a migration, au pied, from "the 
 far west,"' until, like giants refreshed, they should find themselves ready 
 for a fresh start upon the world, to try, as the rat-catcher philosophi- 
 cally remarked, " their fortunes — any how." 
 
 I need scarcely say that I availed myself of Mr. Hartley's permis- 
 sion, and early in the forenoon presented myself at his hotel. As I had 
 expected, he was from home ; but Dominique conducted me to the 
 presence of his young mistress ; and, to judge from the kindness of my 
 welcome, the visit was not disagreeable. 
 
 It was late when INIi'. Hartley returned to dinner ; and after the 
 cloth had been removed, and Isidora had retired, he resumed a subject 
 that he had casually mentioned to me before, namely, how far it would 
 be prudent or possible to place myself in the presence of my grand- 
 father, and try what impression my unexpected appearance might 
 produce. 
 
 " I have made secret inquiries," he said, " respecting Mr. Clifford's 
 habits, to find out how an interview could be achieved, but I have 
 failed in obtaining any information but what is vague and unsatisfac- 
 tory ; but, as Cliftbrd HaU is only twenty miles from town, you shall run 
 down, Hector, and try whether fortune may not do more for you than 
 
 I can. The domain adjoins the village of . There you will 
 
 find a rustic inn ; and there, also, you may probably glean some infor- 
 mation that may direct your course of action afterwards. Thither, at 
 present, it would be imprudent in me to venture ; but you are unknown, 
 and consequently you may venture safely. You will find your grand- 
 sire under the double thrall of his steward and his Confessor. I shall 
 sketch both for you. 
 
 The former was born in the house, and reai'ed and educated from 
 
 M 
 
162 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 charitable motives by the old gentleman, from his having become an 
 orphan while an infant. Gradually, he rose from dependency to 
 affluence ; in time he managed the old man's income ; and report 
 says, that he has secured a goodly fortune from the pilferings of the 
 estate. It was whispered that he hud secretly encouraged IMr. 
 Cliffoi'd's discarded boy in his wild and profligate career ; and that, 
 by the suppression of letters and numerous acts of villany beside, he 
 contrived to snap the last link of natural affection between an angry 
 father and a guilty son. Certainly, in the hour of young Clifford's 
 disgrace and destitution, he evinced the blackest ingratitude to one 
 who, badly as he might have behaved to others, had showered favours 
 on him when a boy, and trusted him afterwards with unlimited con- 
 fidence. Such is Morley the steward ; and now we will briefly sketch 
 Daniels the confessor. 
 
 He is a Jesuit ; born, I believe, in England, but educated abroad ; 
 a deep designing zealot — bigoted to his own faith, and intolerant to all 
 besides. The great object of his existence is to aggrandize the order 
 he belongs to ; and by the exercise of monastic influence on a mind 
 always superstitious, and now imbecile from age, he trusts to alienate 
 from natural heirs the noble estates of that weak old man, to whom 
 he has become a ghostly counsellor. In short, Morley and Daniels act 
 with a unity of purpose, but different end : the one, to build a fortune 
 for himself; the other, to gratify a monk's ambition, and raise himself 
 to a commanding position in tliat order which he intends to aggran- 
 dize at the expense of your mother and yourself. You can easily 
 understand that every obstacle will be placed in your way by indivi- 
 duals so deeply interested in preventing the old man from being 
 reconciled to a child he once was so devotedly attached to ; and whether 
 you succeed or fail, matters cannot be more unpromising than they 
 are. They say the fortunes of an Irishman carry him, at times, through 
 difficulties which to other mortals would prove insuperable. Try 
 yours, Hector — something may be gained — and, need I tell you ? — 
 nothing can be lost." 
 
 I followed Mr. Hartley's advice, and started next evening by a 
 stage coach that passed the village he had named ; and at dusk I alighted 
 at a clean and comfortable public-house, intituled the Fox and Hounds. 
 
 The evening was sharp, and, as I had travelled outside, an intro- 
 duction to a snug parlour and sparkling wood-fire was agreeable. 
 I ordered supper and a bed ; and, while the former was being pre- 
 pared, considered in what manner, and by what means, I should 
 endeavour to obtain an interview with Mr. Cliftbrd. i\Ii\ Hartley had 
 recommended me to glean some intelligence from the landlord, should 
 I find him inclined to be communicative ; and, when the cloth had been 
 removed and a correct assortment of fluids was placed upon the table, 
 I desired " mine host" to be summoned to the presence. 
 
 "When he appeared, I had no difficulty to ascertain at a glance that 
 he had pursued in earlier life the honourable trade of arms, and, like 
 myself, had been intended to supply " food for powder." He was a 
 tall, hale, hearty-looking veteran, and stout for his yeai's, albeit Father 
 Time had silvered his head and stooped his shoulders. Still maintain- 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAX. 163 
 
 ing that feeling of deference when in the presence of a supei-ior, wliich 
 military usage renders habitual, he drew himself up at the foot of the 
 table, and respectfully inquired "what my honour wanted?" 
 
 " Nothing, my worthy host, but your company for half an hour. 
 The evenings grow long, and I hate ' to di-ink one hand against the 
 other,' as we say in Ireland. If I guess right, you have retired from 
 a profession on which I have but entered recently." 
 
 " Yes, sir," returned he of the Fox and Hounds ; — " I wore the 
 king's livery for fifteen years ; and, God bless him, now that I have 
 done my work, he allows me two-and-eightpence a-day to enable me 
 to drink his health in comfort." 
 
 " You seem, when you bade Brown-Bess good-bye, to have taken 
 up comfortable quarters here, my friend." 
 
 " I am, thank God, not only comfortable, but in garrison I hope for 
 life. "WTien I returned home, I married the sergeant-major's widow. 
 Well, we each had laid by a bit of money — put it together — took this 
 house — and after being five years keeping the business going on, 
 things have gone straight enough with us, and we are better by the 
 hah'^than when we entered it. I wish every worn-out soldier had as 
 snug cantonments for old age." 
 
 " Have you served abroad?" 
 
 " I began in Holland ^vith the Duke of York, and I finished in 
 Spain with poor Sir John." 
 
 " What regiments did you serve in?" 
 
 " Never but in one, the old steady fifty — th. Under its honoured 
 colours I stood my last field, at Corunna, and fought ray first one at 
 Malines." 
 
 '•' You were in the grenadiers ; do you remember who commanded ?" 
 
 " As stout a soldier as ever took a company into fire — Colonel 
 O'Halloran." 
 
 " Then you fought under my father." 
 
 The retired soldier put down the glass he was lifting to his lips, 
 and for a moment scanned my features eagerly. 
 
 " By Heaven ! — the living image of the kindest and bravest officer 
 under whom a soldier ever served ! I am prouder, sir, in having you 
 this night beneath my humble roof, than if you called a prince your 
 father." And stretching forward his hand, the veteran grasped mine 
 in his with an honest ardour that proved how deeply military attach- 
 ment takes root, and how dearly the remembrance of " auld lang syne" 
 is cherished in the soldier's memory. " Aiid now," he said, " what is 
 there in the Fox and Hounds which I can offer to my old colonel's 
 son?" 
 
 " Nothing but what is already on the table ; but possibly you could, 
 in another matter, render me some assistance?" 
 
 " Name but the way in which John Williams can be serviceable." 
 
 " You know my relationship to Mr. Cliftord ? " 
 
 '•' Perfectly. I was with my gallant captain the night we stole his 
 beautiful lady from the convent garden. Alas 1 many a time it has 
 grieved me to the heart, to think that the old gentleman should remain 
 so cold and unforgiving as he is ; but he is poisoned against his child 
 
 M 2 
 
164 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 by the priests and villains who surround him. How can I be useful ? 
 Wliat do you intend to do ? — Do you intend to call on the old man ? 
 If you do, I fear there arc those about him who will prevent it. No 
 one is allowed to see him but in the presence of that dark monk they 
 call Father Daniels. The house is guarded like a gaol, and the gates 
 are locked against the world." 
 
 " I despair of obtaining an interview by open means," I replied — 
 " How shall I manage it by secret ones ? " 
 
 " It will be all but impossible," said the sergeant. " I will think 
 over it to-night ; and if a chance exist we'U try it, hit or miss. But 
 soft ! — surely that voice which I hear in the kitchen is old George 
 Smith the keeper's ? He is the only one of the old servants now 
 remaining at the Hall ; and, only that his master has a strong regard 
 for him, and won't listen to any stories to his disadvantage, he would 
 have shared the fate of others, and been sent adrift as they were. 
 Father Daniels hates him ; and, faith, its cordially returned ! The 
 old keeper remembers your honour's mother well, and many a time he 
 speaks of her — and I'll stake my pension, that he will befriend the son 
 of her whom he still reverences in his heart." 
 
 As he spoke, the sergeant rose and left the room. — Irishmen are 
 all more or less superstitious ; and I hailed it as a happy omen, that, 
 in the very opening of my attempt, fate should have thrown across 
 me an old comrade of my father. To succeed, I had scarce a hope ; but, 
 for every reason, I was ambitious to fail respectably. I was experiment- 
 alizing under the direction of one whose good opinion I was anxious 
 to secure ; and I determined that when I returned to town, I would 
 at least satisfy Mr. Hartley that I had struck boldly, although the blow 
 had failed. 
 
 In ten minutes the host returned, followed by an elderly man. The 
 latter made me a dutiful obeisance ; but when approaching the table, 
 and the light fell strongly on my face, under a sudden impulse he 
 caught my hand, pressed it to his lips, and seemed to be powerfully 
 affected. The likeness to my mother at once established my identity ; 
 and in a few minutes, if by the agency of George vSmith I could have 
 been placed in that house to which I was natural heir, it would have 
 been instantly effected. A half-hour's conversation determined our 
 course of operations, and I learned enough regarding my grandfather's 
 habits to convince me, that, with good luck, the interview I desired 
 might be obtained. 
 
 It appeared that in good weather, there was a favourite seat in a 
 sheltered corner of the park, to which Mr. Clifford generally repaired. 
 There he would sometimes remain an hour, while the Confessor walked 
 backwards and forwards reading the daily office which the rules of his 
 order imposed. Occasionally, Mr. Clifford employed himself with 
 some devotional book ; and all intrusions on the part of servants were 
 rigidly prohibited. From strangers none could be apprehended, as 
 none were allowed to pass the gates. 
 
 In a thick clump immediately adjacent to the bench where Mr. 
 Clifford rested, it was arranged that I should lie perdu, and if 
 fortune offered the opportunity, I was to sally from my ambuscade, and 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 165 
 
 seize it. The keeper was to assist me to scale the wall, and point out 
 the place where I could best conceal myself — and, to the blind goddess 
 of the wheel, the rest was properly committed. 
 
 I know not wherefore, but that night I went to sleep with all the 
 buoyancy of hope, although I had no reason to think that chances 
 wild as mine could prove successful. In my dreams, however, results 
 were fortunate — every obstacle was overcome — I was reconciled to 
 ISlr. Clifford ; and, better still, united to Isidora. 
 
 After breakfast old George announced himself, and the weather was 
 propitious. It was one of those fine autumnal mornings which promise 
 a hot noon and a frosty evening. From an angle of the park wall, 
 the lower bough of a large beech tree extended itself. It was not ten 
 feet above the ground, and, by throwing a rope across, it required 
 but small exertion to gain it ; and that done, the entrance to the park 
 was easy. Inside, the gamekeeper was to await my advent. The host 
 furnished me with what is not generally an acceptable present ; but 
 the halter — for it was one — well nigh proved the ladder to my 
 fortunes. 
 
 At the appointed time I made the attempt, and succeeded; and, 
 stealing along the shrubbery, gained the clump, and took a safe 
 position behind a thick holly, not six yards distant from the seat 
 which the keeper pointed out as the one generally occupied by Mr. 
 Clifford. 
 
 All proceeded as I expected and had hoped — and the mildness of 
 the day induced the old gentleman to take his customary walk. He 
 was attended by the Jesuit, on whose arm he leaned ; and on reaching 
 his resting-place, he received a book from the Confessor, and com- 
 menced reading a passage which the monk had pcjjnted out. In a 
 few minutes the churchman strolled some distance from the bench,^ 
 and while I was considering the way in which I should present myself 
 to the old man without occasioning alarm, to my unspeakable satisfac- 
 tion, I observed a servant approach the Confessor hastily, and after a 
 brief communication, they both walked away in the direction of the 
 house. 
 
 I seized the golden opportunity, stole from my retreat, and placed 
 myself in front of the old gentleman, and, so silently, that he remained 
 with his eyes fixed upon the book for more than a minute afterwards. 
 Presently he looked up— he stared at me with evident surprise — for 
 it was a rare occurrence to find himself alone with a stranger— and 
 in a low tone he asked me " if I wished to speak with him ?" 
 
 I advanced another step, knelt at the old man's feet, and gently took 
 his hand. 
 
 " What means this? — Who are you?" he muttered. 
 
 " A son, come hither to solicit pardon for a parent— your grand- 
 child begs your blessing ! " 
 
 " Ha ! these are Ellen's features ! Merciful God ! — Do I rave, or 
 dream ? Speak, boy — your name ? " 
 
 " O'Halloran." 
 
 " Your business ? — Quick ! — quick ! " 
 
 " Pardon for my mother." 
 
166 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " Ellen, Ellen, Ellen !" he feebly muttered; and next moment lie 
 iainted in my arms. 
 
 I was dreadfully alarmed. I tliouglit my sudden appearance had 
 operated fatally, called loudly for assistance, and on looking around to 
 see whether my summons had been heard, observed that the Jesuit, 
 followed by several men, was running towards me rapidly. In another 
 minute he was at our side ; and never, in a human countenance, were 
 auger and astonishment so mingled as in his. 
 
 "Remove your master!" he exclaimed to the servants. ""Who 
 are you, sir?" he continued, bendmg his shaggy brows over eyes of 
 sinister expression, and directing their deadly glare at me. " J£oiv 
 dare you intrude where strangers are excluded ? " 
 
 " By right of kindred !" I thundered in return. 
 
 The monk's face blanched. "Eemove your master instantly," he 
 continued, " and eject this man — by force, if necessary !" 
 
 " Beware ! " I said ; " the man who tries it may count on broken 
 bones ! " 
 
 " "Who are you?" the monk inquired, haughtily " Your name ? — 
 Your business ? " 
 
 The men w^ho accompanied him hesitated to obey his orders ; and 
 still the old man reclined with his head upon my breast, while my 
 arm suj^ported him. Certainly, of the priest's body-guard none w^ere 
 gentlemen who would volunteer a forlorn hope ; and, astounded at the 
 bold tone I used to one, who at Cliiford Hall had exercised a despotic 
 authority, they seemed any thing but anxious to bring matters to 
 hostile conclusions. But when I announced my name and I'elationship 
 to theia- master, they all receded, leaving the matter to be settled by 
 the Jesuit and myself. 
 
 The Confessor, with admirable skiU, at once changed his tactics, 
 and adopted another course. 
 
 " Mr. O'Halloran, to use the mildest term it admits, your visit has 
 been imprudent. Mark in the old man's illness the consequences of 
 your rashness ! Wliy did you not notice your intention ? Could I have 
 induced your grandsire to receive you, I would have done so willingly, 
 and thus have prevented a shock that may prove — and I fear it will — 
 fatal ! For God's sake, be ad-\ased by me. Leave the park, and let your 
 relative receive immediate attention. You see the first effect — would 
 you, should he recover the first shock, expose him to a second ? "SYhen he 
 is well enough to write, I pledge my word, you sJiall receive an instant 
 communication. If you persevere, death wiU inevitably ensue ; and 
 how, may I ask, will you, forewarned as you are, excuse the rashness, 
 the madness, that occasioned it ? " 
 
 The specioi;s arguments of the Jesviit prevailed, and I acceded to 
 his proposition. I could not tell the cause that overjiowered my 
 grandfather's feeble strength ; nor could I even guess whether it were 
 anger, or an outbreaking of revived affection. In my doubts, I agreed 
 to the monk's proposal — saw the old man carried in a chair to the 
 house — and c|uittedthe domain, perfectly unconscious whether my visit 
 had mitigated or confirmed his animosity. 
 
 In one brief hour that question was put to rest, and a letter, 
 
HECTOR HALLORAX. 167 
 
 addressed to me at the Fox and Hounds, apprised me that my grand- 
 father considered mj mother an enfant j)sydu, and that his displeasui'e 
 was unmitigable ! ******* 
 
 In a remote apartment of jNIt. CHfford's mansion, that evening, two 
 men might have been discovered in earnest conversation ; one had a 
 countenance sallow, cunning, and repulsive ; and a figure remarkable 
 for its height and irregular proportions ; the other was a middle-sized 
 elderly man, with a certain air and inteUigence that might stamp liim 
 a pawnbroker, money-dealer, thieves' attorney, or any other profession 
 appertaining to the "wide-awake" school. Need I say the twain Avere 
 the Confessor and house-steward of my grandfather ? Both exhibited 
 unequivocal appearances of anxiety and annoyance ; and though there 
 were wines upon the table, neither seemed inchned to use them. 
 
 " Was there ever any thing more unfortunate than this evening's 
 occurrence?" exclaimed the Jesuit. "For months the old man has 
 never been left a moment to himself ; and one unguarded interval, 
 what mischief has it not produced ! Another interview — and aU that 
 you and I for years have laboui'ed to effect is totally, hopelessly- — 
 undone ! " 
 
 " It is too true,"' replied the steward, 
 
 " He'U never make a will now ! " 
 
 " Have we not aheady made one for him ? " said the steward. 
 
 The priest shook his head — " That deed, my friend, will never bear 
 the light. "\Ye stand in a dangerous jDOsition ; and had not the old man 
 fainted, we were ruined. Even now the mischief is not abated — he 
 talks of nothing but his daughter, and raves about the duty of forgive- 
 ness which a father should extend to an erring child. What is to be 
 done?" 
 
 The steward mused for a minute — his brows contracted, and a dark 
 expression passed across his face. " Father," he said, " the intruder 
 must be removed." 
 
 The Jesuit looked at his companion, but spoke not. The look, 
 however, said — " "Would that it were done !" 
 
 " Money will effect it," said the steward. 
 
 The Jesuit continued silent, and then carelessly observed, " I would 
 give a thousand pounds this cursed interview had not occiu-red I " 
 
 " Would you, holy father, give as much to prevent a second?" 
 asked the steward. 
 
 The Jesuit nodded. 
 
 " Enough ; I shall act promptly now. Hark ! A knock at the 
 door ! Come in ! " 
 
 It was a message from Mr. Chfford requiring that the Confessor 
 should attend him instantly. Father Daniels rose. 
 
 " Stop," lie said, " till I hear what the old man wants." And, so 
 sapng, he left the apartment. 
 
 He was not absent long ; and when he entered the chamber, he 
 held an open letter in his hand. Carefully closing the door, he thus 
 addressed his confederate : 
 
 " Said I not right — Our position is all but desperate ? What think 
 ye was the old man's business ? — To desire the son of his repudiated 
 
168 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 claugliter to return to-morrow ; and to give directions, that I should 
 ■write and order it to be so. "Were that to happen, need I naqie the 
 result ? — all — all lost! Well, I obeyed, and wrote this letter" 
 
 " As he dictated ? — are you mad, holy father?" inquired the steward. 
 
 " Not exactly. 'Tis thus worded : — 
 
 " ' Eash Boy ! 
 " ' Your mother's misconduct wrung my heart, and j'our unwar- 
 rantable intrusion has nearly brought me to the grave. As you di'ead 
 the malediction of an old man — desist ! — ami for ever avoid the pre- 
 sence of one who can never look but with abhorrence on the offspring 
 of a guilty daughter.' 
 
 " 'Tis signed — ay, and in his own handwriting too — 
 
 " ' John Clifford.' " 
 
 " Excellent ! This will prevent another visit," said the steward. 
 
 " You ai'e too sanguine, my friend. The young man is daring ; — 
 he may make a second effort. K he succeed — if he gain a second 
 time the sight of his grandfather, the tale is told. Tiiis fabricated 
 letter may prevent the meeting for a while — but more effectual mea- 
 sures to secure mutual safety are indispensable." 
 
 " I imderstand you, holy father," returned the steward ; — '• money 
 will be necessary." 
 
 " Money shall not be wanting," said the Confessor. " This note 
 procrastinates, but does not avert the crisis." 
 
 The steward nodded his head. " 'Tis a breathing-time, that shall 
 not be thrown away ; — I'm off to London immediately." 
 
 " Heaven speed thee ! " said the monk ; and the hand of God's 
 
 minister, imprecating a blessing, was laid upon a wretch's head 
 
 whose avowed embassy was — murder ! 
 
 ******* 
 
 To my humble counsellors, the keeper and the sergeant, I commu- 
 nicated what we all considered the decided failure of my experiment. 
 I resolved to return direct to town — and a place was booked accord- 
 ingly in the stage. Another passenger accompanied me — and how 
 different are tlie ends which influence men's actions ! I hurried back 
 to town to bask in the smiles of my young and artless Isidora. The 
 object of my compag?ion du voyage was very opposite, — the gentle- 
 man was Mr. Morley ; and his embassy — nothing but to accomplish 
 my assassination. 
 
HECTOR o'HALLORAN. 169 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A MEETING BETWEEN MEN OF BUSINESS. 
 
 " Wliat a dickens is the man always whimpering about murder 
 for? If business cannot be carried on without it, what would you 
 have a gentleman to do ? " Beggars' Upera. 
 
 The scene lias changed ; and we must request the gentle reader to 
 accompany its into a close dark alley, with no thoroughfare connecting 
 it to the opener streets around, save two narrow and crooked passages 
 scarcely three feet wide. The houses are high and old-fashioned, and 
 front each other so closely, that from roof to roof an active man might 
 spring. Their general appearance betokens fear or -wretchedness ; 
 for, while some of the windows are so jealously blinded, as to prevent 
 all chance of espionage from without, others are recklessly exi)osed 
 to the eye of the passenger, as if it were intended to display the extent 
 of the dirt and poverty within. The large brick dwelling at the 
 bottom of the com't is curiously situated. At either gable, it opens by 
 a side door into one of the foul dark passages we have described ; the 
 front is to the court ; and the back abuts upon one of those small and 
 half-forgotten cemeteries, not larger than a modern drawing-room, 
 v.'hich may still be seen, studding here and there the more ancient 
 portions of that " mighty mass of wood, and brick, and mortar," 
 ycleped " the great metropolis." 
 
 AVithin this dn^elling, there was a semblance of opulence that formed 
 a striking contrast to the squalid poverty that w^as perceptible in every 
 other building around it. The rooms were crowded with ill-assorted 
 furniture, and the walls covered with mirrors and pictures. On the 
 tables and mantelpiece, clocks, china, and fancy-ornaments were in- 
 congruously heaped together ; the whole looking Hker a brokex''s 
 store-room than the private dwelling of a man in trade. The place 
 ■was a receptacle for stolen property — or in thieves' parlance, the house 
 of '■ a fence." 
 
 In a large apartment on the first floor the owner of this singular 
 abiding-place Avas seated. He seemed a man of fifty, and his own 
 appearance was as curious as the domicile he inhabited. To judge by 
 the outline of his countenance, you would call him an Irisliman, while 
 its character and expression were decidedly that of a Jew. Indeed 
 nothing could be less prepossessing than both ; and the look of the 
 man, taken altogether, was low, blackguard, and repulsive. 
 
 On the table beside which this ill-favoured gentleman was seated, 
 there were lights, glasses, and decanters ; a comfortable fire was 
 
170 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 blazing in the hearth, and window-shutters, plated with iron, were 
 carefully secured with bolt and bar. 
 
 Mr. Brown, for so the master of the house was named, seemed 
 occupied with business of no common interest ; and to a letter, which 
 he held open in his hand, frequent references were made. His actions 
 Avere those of a man placed in a situation of perilous uncertainty ; for 
 he frequently rose from his chair and paced the room, muttering to 
 himself disjointed sentences, and again returning to the table, to 
 re -peruse an epistle which evidently contained matter of deep moment 
 to the reader. Suddenly he rang the bell, and its summons Avas 
 answered by a personage of remarkable exterior. 
 
 He was a hunchback, and so curiously distorted, that he seemed to 
 be constructed of nothing but legs and arms. From his appearance 
 you would guess him to be fifteen, but his face told you that he was 
 at least five years older ; and on every line and feature of that sinister 
 countenance cunning and knavery were imprinted, 
 
 " Frank," said the master of the hunchback, " who brought Mr. 
 Sloman's letter?" 
 
 " The red-haired man from the City-road, who proved our last 
 alibi at the Bailey," was the reply. 
 
 " Humph ! " returned Mr. Brown, again glancing his eyes over the 
 letter, and favouring the hunchback Avith occasional extracts from its 
 contents, — ' Matter of deepest importance,' — ' not a moment to be 
 lost,' — ' Be with you punctually,' — ' Come through the burial-ground 
 at nine.' Have you unlocked the wicket, Frank ? " 
 " Not till I had your orders," returned the attendant. 
 " Eight, Frank ; people can never be too guarded ; but Sloman's a 
 safe hand, and we have done a good stroke of business together before 
 now. It must be plate or jewels ; — and yet I was talking to an old 
 cracksman this very evening, and if there had been a smash last night 
 of any consequence he would have been safe to know it and tell me. 
 Unlock the wicket, Frank — and then slip over to the Fortune of War, 
 and try if you can get any intelligence." 
 
 The hunchback disappeared ; and during his absence, Mr. Brown 
 divided his attention pretty equally between the contents of Mr. 
 Sloman's epistle and those of the decanter at his elbow. In a quarter 
 of an hour, the hunchback's key was heard turning in the street-door 
 lock, — and he presently announced, that, having made diligent inquiries 
 from several professional gentlemen who were refreshing themselves 
 in the back parlour of the Fortune of "War, he was then and there 
 assured, that nothing had been done the preceding evening but the 
 usual theatrical business — with the exception of a silver coffee-pot, 
 that had been abstracted from a west-end hotel. 
 
 Another quarter of an hour passed — a church-bell chimed — nine 
 was sounded from the belfry ; and, ere the clock ceased striking, steps 
 were heard upon the stairs, and " the thing of legs and arms" an- 
 nounced " IMi-. Sloman." 
 
 The expected visitor was a large, corpulent, clumsy -looking non- 
 descript, with a hooked nose, and light complexion, that rendered it 
 impossible to decide whether he should be classed as Jew or Gentile. 
 
V, y/z^^^yT/yz i^'-i^./^yAr-y:-97yiyWfi^^y ,9r',_^'c^u^f'y^r'yy'^. 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAX. 171 
 
 At Mr. Brovsn's invitation he took a cliair, filled a glass, ventured a 
 remark toucliing the present state of the weather, and ended with an 
 eulogy on the wine. 
 
 " It should be capital, for it comes directly from the cellar of a 
 noble lord, who is considered to be as good a judge of port as any man 
 in England," — said Mr. Brown; "his head butier and I do business 
 pretty extensively. He's always hard up, his woman is so desperately 
 extravagant ; for actresses ai'e always expensive cattle, as you know. 
 I have recommended him to take a rib ; but he can't stand matrimony, 
 he says, — at the west-end, it's reckoned so infernally vulgar." 
 
 " You got my letter," said Mr. Sloman, with a significant look. 
 
 Mr. Brown nodded assent. 
 
 *' We're all alone ?" inquii-ed ^Mr. Sloman. 
 
 " Not a soul in the house, but Frank and the old housekeeper," was 
 the reply. 
 
 " Well," rejoined the visitor, " let us go slap to business. We 
 have done a little in our time, ]Mi\ Brown, and I flatter myself to 
 mutual satisfaction." 
 
 ]Mr. Brown smiled affirmatively. 
 
 " Every transaction between us," continued IMi*. Sloman, " safe, 
 honourable, and agreeable." 
 
 " The last stolen bills were devilish awkward to manage," observed 
 Ml'. Brown, " and things became so ticklish, that they were returned 
 to the parties for thi-ee hundred. Not a rap more — no — upon my 
 honour !" 
 
 " Nothing in the bill line," observed Mr. Sloman, " at present." 
 
 " Glad of it," returned Mr. Brown, " Is it a crack ? — plate, jewels, 
 or—" 
 
 " Quite another line — In a word, a thousand's offered — get the 
 thing done, and we divide 1" 
 
 ]\Ir. Brown started. Two things occasioned this disturbance of 
 constitutional self-possession ; the first was the largeness of the con- 
 sideration, and the second, an intimation that the business was in " a 
 new line." 
 
 " Who are' the parties, and what's the business ?" was the inquiry. 
 
 " Of the one I know nothing ; of the other, particulars are con- 
 tained in this sealed paper. The party who communicates with me, 
 forbade it to be opened until the thing was put in train." 
 
 " Well, how the devil," said ]Mr. Brown, " can I enter on a business 
 that I know nothing of ?" 
 
 " I only know generally," returned T»Ii\ Sloman, " what it is." 
 
 " Go on," said IMi-. Brown impatiently. 
 
 " There is a person in the way — he must le removed ;" said Mr. 
 Sloman in a wtusper. 
 
 " Murdered, of course," observed the host. 
 
 " Upon my soul, Mr. Brown, I am quite surprised at the unpro- 
 fessional nature of your remark. Do you see any thing particularly 
 green about me, to lead you to suppose that I would make myself 
 accessory before fact ? I neither know the man, nor will know 
 anything of the man ; or what is to become of him, or what ivill 
 
172 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 become of him. I got this sealed note, and that there flimsy as 
 retaining fee ;" and he held up a sealed packet, and a bank note for 
 a hundred pounds, both of which Mr. Brown took and examined most 
 attentively. 
 
 " That's sealed close enough," he said, laying down the paper on the 
 table ; " and that's genuine" he added, after submitting the bank note 
 to an investigation before the candle, to ascertain the authenticity of 
 the water-mark. " Is the five safe ?" he said, still playing with the 
 hundred in his hand. 
 
 "I'll freely deposit that hundred as security," returned Mr. 
 Sloman, " and now, in a word, is the thing in your line ? AVill 
 you do it ?" 
 
 " Do what ?" responded Mr. Brown, with a look of innocent surprise. 
 
 " My dear Brown," returned JMi-. Sloman, " what the devil use in 
 dodging with a friend ?" 
 
 " It's you that's dodging," replied the amiable host ; " pray may 
 I read this paper ?" 
 
 " Read it, if you please, but tell me nothing of the contents." 
 
 " You're a deep-un, Slowey ;" and Mr. Brown again passed the 
 bank note between the candle and his eye. " Undeniable !" he muttered, 
 and next moment he retired to the corner of the apartment, at the 
 special solicitation of Mr. Sloman ; and then having broken the seal 
 of the packet. Brown read the writing, while Sloman, in perfect 
 ignorance of its import, drew the decanter closer, and as cocknies say, 
 *' assisted" himself liberally to the contents. 
 
 When the worthy owner of the house had read the scroll, the effect 
 upon him seemed astounding. His frame appeared convulsed, the lip 
 whitened, and the hand that held the paper seemed scarcely able to 
 retain it. He read it again and again, and then, crumpUng it in liis 
 grasp, returned to the table, filled a glass of brandy, and drained it to 
 the bottom; an example ftiithfully followed by his excellent friend, 
 Mr. Sloman. 
 
 " Well, Mr. B., what say you ?" 
 
 " This simply — the business shall be done." 
 
 " To the satisfaction of the parties concerned ?" inquired Mr. 
 Sloman. 
 
 '■ Yes ; or you may keep the four hundred." 
 
 " He is to be disposed of, so that he shall give no fiirther trouble. 
 Remember that, Mr. Brown." 
 
 " The grave is the best security for that," returned the host. 
 
 " Stop, stop ; don't teU me any particulars. Only let the thing 
 come off like a business transaction, — you understand me ?" 
 
 " Perfectly ;" responded JNIi-. Brown. 
 
 " And you undei'take it ?" 
 
 " I do, — and in that understanding pocket this retainer ;" and 
 Mr. Brown put the bank note into his breast-pocket. " Come, as 
 matters are arranged, let us have another bottle." 
 
 " No,^ no, no, — I must return to the person waiting your reply. — He 
 will be impatient." 
 
 " Who are the parties, Sloman ? — honour bright." 
 
HECTOR o'lIALLORAX. 173 
 
 " By heaven ! I know no more of them than you do ; nor, stranger 
 still, does the agent who jiroposed the affair to me. Rest assured the 
 thing is ably planned, and there are deep ones at the bottom of it." 
 
 " Ay, and I promise you that it shall be as ably executed," responded 
 Mr. Brown. 
 
 " To a gentleman 'of your experience," said Mr. Sloman, with a 
 bow, " it would be impertinent to otier advice. The fewer number of 
 people employed in the job, (remember, I know nothing of it,) why the 
 less chance there is of splitting." 
 
 " Mr. Brown assented by a nod. 
 
 " To an honest tradesman, like yourself, or a lawyer of character, 
 like me, any thing to compromise vis would be detrimental." 
 
 A parting glass was drunk, — and the payment, its mode and cer- 
 tainty, aU being carefully arranged, the excellent gentlemen separated 
 with a warm shake of the hand, protestations of mutual esteem, and 
 a God bless you ! Mr. Sloman was emancipated by the church- 
 yard door ; the hunchback locked the grating ; and Mr. Brown, hav- 
 ing interdicted all visitors for the night, excepting the favoured few 
 who had the private entree of his domicile, sate down " alone in his 
 glory." 
 
 The step of the hunchback was heard no more, as he had dived into 
 the lower regions which he inhabited. Mr. Brown looked suspiciously 
 about him for a moment, and satisfied that he was in perfect lonehness 
 and security, he burst into a passionate soliloquy, and strange, the 
 language it was uttered in was in Irish ! 
 
 " Who says that he who waits for vengeance wiU not sooner or later 
 find a time ? Pla I the hour at last is come, when that heart, proud 
 man, which I cannot reach mj-self, shall bleed profusely through 
 another's. Let me look back. I remember well the moment when 
 the jury returned my conviction, and the judge, to strike terror into 
 others, sentenced me to eternal banishment, and ordered me to be 
 transported from the dock. My j)rosecutor stood leaning against the 
 bench, and returned my glance of impotent revenge, with one of 
 supercilious disdain, as a lion would look upon a cur. Thirteen long 
 years I di-agged out in slavery — and such slavery, to one, who like 
 me, had known the comforts which appertains to a gentleman's dwelling ! 
 I escaped — reached England — fortune has smiled upon me, and I am 
 wealthy — no matter how the money came — and none suspect me — none 
 know me as a returned transport save one, and with her the secret's 
 safe. I never can be detected here for, fortunately for me, it was 
 believed I failed in my escape, and was drowned attempting it. Has 
 wealth engrossed my thoughts — has money made me happy ? No, no, — 
 vengeance, vengeance, haunt my very dreams ! But it was not to be 
 obtained — I dared not venture near the man I hate — the attempt 
 would have been too perilous — I should be known, and if discovered, 
 without the power of inflicting injury, I should be myself the victim, 
 and my ruin would gratify the man I loath. Heavens ! can it be true, 
 and is the liour of vengeance come at last ? It is ! it is ! Denis O'llallo- 
 ran, before a third night pass, the worm you despised and spurned in 
 your hour of triumph, shaU sting you to the soul ! Kow for the 
 
174 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 means. That Hebrew barterer in blood, who has changed his name 
 and calls himself a Christian — he gave a necessary caution. I'll follow 
 it — the fewer employed in such a deed the better. Ha, I have it! 
 The body-snatchers — ay — they are the men, I can manage it through 
 Frank. — He was one of them, but the labour was too severe for him. 
 That devil-boy has in that puny frame-work, the ferocity of a tiger, 
 and the cunning of a fiend ; he loves mischief for itself, and doats upon 
 a deed of blood. Yes, — the resurrectionists are the men ; and they 
 so readily manage to rid themselves of the carrion afterwards. There 
 are three of them — surely enough — all young men, and two of them 
 were pugilists. He is described as tall, active, and powerful, and his 
 fathei''s son will not be wanting in the hour of danger ; — but what is 
 one man to three ? — Hai'k ! the street-bell rings — I expect nobody to 
 night ! — Hush, here comes the boy. 
 
 As he spoke the hunchback entered, and announced that " the gipsy "' 
 was passing, and wished to speak to Mr. Brown. 
 
 " Saints and angels ! the very person that I want ! Show her up. 
 Ay — we need a decoy — in every mischief, woman can be usefully 
 employed." 
 
 The announced one entered Mr. Brown's great chamber, and 
 addressed him with the familiarity of an old acquaintance. 
 . "I leave town to-morrow," she began — 
 I " I doubt it," was the I'eply. 
 ■ " Why ?" asked the gipsy, sharply. ' 
 
 " The reason you shall know presently. Mary," he continued, 
 " have you forgotten events that happened nineteen years ago ?" 
 
 " Can they ever be forgotten, Ilacket ? — ^my own disgrace — my 
 brother's murder." 
 
 " And yet, Mary, you have not the reason to recollect them that 
 I have. You were never banished." 
 
 " Was I not worse than banished ?" returned the gipsy. " See 
 what my life has been since I was disgraced and driven from my 
 native land — with one passing gleam of happiness, a scene of guilt, 
 and crime, and misery. Once my wandering career was stayed ; 
 I was loved, and raised from poverty ; I was sheltered, protected, 
 educated. My wayward destiny had found a home at last ; and the 
 evening of a troubled life promised to end in peace and quiet. 
 Accident in a moment robbed me of him on whom my future fate 
 depended — and I was again cast upon the world, when I had expe- 
 rienced enough of happiness only to estimate its loss more acutely. 
 Have not misery and suffering been my companions since ? I have felt 
 the indignity of a gaol ; I have been the inmate of a madhouse ; I am 
 now a half-crazed wanderer. Homeless and friendless I'll live ; and 
 when the spirit passes, no holy lip shall breathe a prayer for the soul's 
 repose of a nameless outcast, who probably will perish on a dung-hill." 
 
 " And Avhat would you give for vengence on him whose fickle lovo 
 caused you this misery and shame ? Listen, Mary ; before three suns 
 go down in ocean, vengeance shall be ours !" 
 
 '' How ? speak, Hacket ?" 
 
 " Denis O'Halloran shall be childless — throui^h the son's heart I'll 
 
HECTOR o'HALLORAN. 175 
 
 reacli the father's. — Attend I"— and Hacket rapidly detailed the outline 
 of the foul conspiracy. 
 
 With lips apart, and eyes fixed intensely on the narrator's counte- 
 nance, Mary Halligan listened in silence. Suddenly the street-bell 
 rang once more, and Hacket was called away, leaving the gipsy alone. 
 
 " And so the son's to be slaughtered to break the father's heart," 
 she muttered, — " and he thinks that I am savage as himself, and that I 
 will aid him in his deed of blood. Alas ! he little knows that woman's 
 first love can never be obliterated. Five and twenty years have passed. 
 I saw him recently ; for the impulse was irresistible, and I crossed the 
 sea to gratify the wish. Time had blanched his hair, the stoop of years 
 had slightly bent his lofty carriage ; and an empty sleeve told that he 
 had been mutilated on the battle field. He passed me carelessly ; but 
 when I spoke, turned, as if the voice that fell upon his ear had been 
 once familiar. He replied to me in kind accents, and gave me some 
 silver as he walked away. Did I see him then as he was ? Oh, no ; 
 I only saw the bold and handsome soldier, who, in the mountain glen, 
 taught me first to love ; and could I harm him because he trifled with 
 a heart that never loved another ; and, like an infant's toy, threw it 
 from him when the newness of the gift was over ? No ; Denis O'Hallo- 
 ran, thy boy shall be preserved ; or she whom you wooed, and won, and 
 deserted, will perish in the eflfort. Ha ! I hear the tiger's foot upon 
 the stair ; and now to deceive him." 
 
 All that the scoundrel proposed, the gipsy warmly assented to — and 
 I was placed under instant esjnonage. The thing of legs and arms, 
 ycleped Frank, watched my outgoings from the hotel. — Hacket, through 
 the hunchback's agency, settled with the resurrection men the price of my 
 destruction — and all required, was a fitting opportunity to accomplish it. 
 
 Two modes presented themselves — secret murder or open violence. 
 The first was infinitely preferable, had my habits been iiTegular, and 
 that consequently I could have been seduced into some of the convenient 
 slaughter-houses, with which the metropolis then abounded. Places 
 there were enough ; but the diflficulty was, how should I be gotten there ? 
 "Women were employed, but Isidora proved a counter-charm. Scented 
 billets, couched in ardent language, reached me daily ; but the assign- 
 ations were disregarded. Could letters be credited upon ladies' hearts, 
 I had done prodigious execution •; but I acted like " a man of snow," 
 and out-josephed Joseph. To Mr. Hartley I even submitted these 
 amatory effusions, and in his company I actually kept two or three 
 appointments. It was observed, probably from some blinded window, 
 that another person was in my company, and that no attempt could be 
 made upon me with success ; and like Hotspur's spirits " none did 
 come, though we did call for them." Unknown to each other, Hacket 
 and I played a deep and desperate game, the stake was life, and — as 
 the cards turned up —I won it. 
 
 Why tliat a regular Emeralder like me, whose native soil is known to 
 be favourable to tlie growth of gallantry as it is unfriendly to that of 
 reptiles, should play deaf-adder to the call of beauty in the streets, the 
 following chapter may possibly account for. 
 
176 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 MY TWENTIETH ANNIVERSARY. 
 
 " Ccrs. Cresar shall forth : the things that threatened me, 
 Ke'cr looked but on my back ; -when they shall see 
 The face of Ca;sar — they are vanished." 
 
 " Ham, Oh most pernicious woman I" 
 
 ****** 
 " '3J Mur. Tis he— 
 
 2d Mur. Stand to 't." Shakespeare. 
 
 "When I met Isiclora in lier mountain home, her graceful person, 
 aided by manners particularly naive and gentle, had fascinated me, 
 and taught me, for the first time, to feel the influence of love. Kers 
 was the artless beauty that man never gazes on unmoved — the coldest 
 heart would own its power — and mine at once admitted it. But when 
 a closer intimacy banished the timidity which a secluded life and 
 conventual education naturally produced — when she looked no longer 
 on me as a stranger, expressed her opinions freely, and conversed 
 without restraint — I found her gifted with intelligence beyond what 
 so young a life could warrant, and a spirit, in ordinary events, mild, 
 gentle, and endearing, but one, if necessity required, capable of that 
 devoted fortitude, which so frequently, in pain and poverty, raises 
 woman superior to misfortune, and distances immeasurably the boasted 
 heroism of man. I was now, by the permission of Mr. Hartley, con- 
 stantly in the presence of his daughter. At his table a cover was 
 reserved for me, and I was an inmate of a neighbouring hotel. In 
 the various places visited by strangers to the metropolis, I daily accom- 
 panied Isidora ; for in concerns of deeper interest her father seemed 
 entirely engaged. I sailed with her on the river — I rode with her in 
 the parks. Is it then to be wondered at that boyish fancy ripened 
 into a strong and endearing passion ? — one that no secondary impres- 
 sion could afterwards efface, and wliich, like the star of hope, bright- 
 ened the darkest hour of my career, and finally crowned success with 
 that best benison of heaven — woman's love. 
 
 On the third evening after my unsuccessful attempt to effect a recon- 
 ciliation with Mr. Clifford, we had strolled westward, and, returning 
 through St. James's Park, sate down to rest upon a bench beside the 
 Serpeiitine. In the story of my life it was a day never to be forgotten ; 
 for I had told Isidora what could not have been a secret, and, amid 
 tears and blushes, she had owned that to her father she could give now 
 only a divided heart. He who has loved at twenty, and excited a 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 177 
 
 kindred passion in the object of his regard, can only fancy what I felt. 
 The world seemed strewn with roses — the sky without a cloud. Was 
 not Isidora mine ? and rich in woman's love, what else was to be 
 wished for ? Alas ! how many trials were before me, ere that haven 
 of happiness was won ! 
 
 I mentioned before, Mr. Hartley's business was so engrossing, that 
 from breakfast time we rarely saw him until he returned late to dinner. 
 The evening was closing, and the chimes of St. Blartin's steeple warned 
 us that we should resume our walk. The bench on wdiich we had 
 been sitting was directly in front of a clump of trees ; and on moving 
 a pace or two, we perceived, for the first time, that a tall and singular 
 looking woman was standing immediately beside us, although until we 
 had risen the shrubs effectually concealed her. Her figure and attitude 
 were graceful, and the outline of the countenance fine — with a com- 
 plexion so dark, and eyes so brilliant, that they at once betrayed a gipsy 
 origin. She was past the middle age — but when a girl, she no doubt 
 possessed the beauty for which that singular race are so remarkable. 
 She regarded me with fixed attention ; her eyes glancing slightly at 
 my fair companion, and then settling upon mine with a stealthy expres- 
 sion of inquiry. We attempted to pass her, but she raised her arm, 
 and signed that we should remain. 
 
 " What do ye want, good woman?" I said, as I off'ered her some 
 silver. 
 
 " Not money," was her reply, and she pushed back the hand I had 
 extended. " I would speak with you, and speak with you alone." 
 
 " With me ! You can have no business with a stranger" — 
 
 " With strangers I have none. With you I have important business," 
 returned the gipsy. 
 
 " I am unknown to you, my friend." She smiled incredulously, and 
 then peering sharply at my face, she measured me with a glance from 
 head to foot. 
 
 " Yes, I could not be mistaken — the air, the height, the figure — 
 all, all, are similar. The same firm step and haughty carriage ; ay, 
 and the eye and lip too are his ; the rest, the softer features of his 
 mother." 
 
 Isidora, startled at the wild attitude and address of the wanderer, 
 clung closely to my arm for protection. The gipsy noticed it. 
 
 " Lady, from me you have nothing to dread. I may not be able to 
 serve you, and who would injure you? Give me your hand. Nay, 
 fear not." 
 
 "Pshaw!" said I, " w^e have no faith in fortune-telling;" and I 
 smiled. 
 
 " That smile too is his father's. Come, lady, let me but look one 
 moment." 
 
 I pressed Isidora to comply with the gipsy's request; and, with a 
 smile, she presented her hand to the fortune-teller. The latter 
 scanned the lines attentively, and then whispered something in my 
 companion's ear, but in a voice so low, that to me it was perfectly 
 inaudible. Its effect upon Isidora was striking. In a moment a 
 burning blush suffiised her cheeks, and eyes, turned before upon the 
 
 N 
 
178 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 sybil in playful expectation, were instantly cast upon the ground. The 
 Avanderer smiled, 
 
 " Nay, lady," she said, " take not what I have told you as any proof 
 of skill ; a boy who saw half what I did unperceived would readily 
 have guessed that secret. One look more. Your love will end pro- 
 sperously ; but the time is hidden from me. Trials and disappoint- 
 ments interfere, but prudence and patience will overcome them. May 
 you be happy ! It would be, in sooth, a pity if sorrow should dim so 
 sweet an eye, or cloud a brow so beautiful. And now, to see v*'hat 
 fate designs for you, sir." 
 
 The kindly tone of voice in which she conveyed her wishes for 
 Isidora's happiness of course had its full influence on me, and I freely 
 presented the hand she desired — but still a sceptic smile accompanied 
 the offer, and showed that in palmistiy I was an unbeliever. She 
 affected not to notice it, but proceeded with her mystic exami- 
 nation. 
 
 " Well," I said, laughing, "what has fortune in reserve for me?" 
 
 " Much that I can see, and more that is wrapped in mystery." 
 
 " Proceed." 
 
 " I see present danger, followed by perilous adventure. The end, 
 however, looks happy." 
 
 " The danger," I exclaimed ; " whence and from whom ?" 
 
 " The source I see ; the time's uncertain." 
 
 " Pshaw ! this is mere folly — some proof. Give me this, or 1 shall 
 say your art is all speculation on the common results of life, and 
 founded on chance of circumstances." 
 
 " Ask, and I'll answer you." 
 
 " My name ?" I inquired. 
 
 " Hector O'Halloran." 
 
 " Well, I was not aware you knew me. That knowledge is easily 
 acquired. My profession ? " 
 
 " Your father's. Am I right ? " . 
 
 I bowed. 
 
 " What else do you require from me ?" said the woman. 
 
 Isidora had turned paJe ; for the readiness with which each question 
 had been answered, seemed to infer that the gipsy really possessed the 
 intelligence she boasted. 
 
 " Come," I said, "one question more, and that if answered shall make 
 me a true believer ; — tell me my age ! " 
 
 " Well — let me think a moment," she returned, and placing her 
 open hand across her forehead, she seemed for a few moments to tax 
 her memory, as if engaged in mental calculations. 
 
 " Ay, that was the year," she muttered ; then, turning to me, she 
 coolly answered, " On Thursday next you will be twenty." 
 
 She paused ; and the surprise visible on my countenance announced 
 to Isidora that the answer was correct. 
 
 " And now, one word before we part ;" and she laid her hand upon 
 my shoulder — " Hector O'Halloran, beware! or your twentieth birth- 
 day T.ill be as bloody as your first. Before we part, give me one 
 
 promise." 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAX. 179 
 
 " Name it," I replied. 
 
 *' When I require you to meet me — when a writing with these 
 marks attached to it, shall be placed witlun your hand" — and she gave 
 me a scroll — "will you obey the order?" 
 I answered boldly in the atRrmative. 
 
 " 'Tis well. Though my summons come in storm, and darkness, 
 and at midnight, as you value life, obey it. Though beauty smiles, 
 and music charms, leave all when that mystic signature is pre- 
 sented." 
 
 Isidora and I turned our eyes on the scroll. It contained only a 
 couple of initials — but annexed vras a singular hieroglyphic, rej^re- 
 senting a heart perforated with a dagger. I smiled at the device, 
 while Isidora became deadly pale. The wanderer saw the colour 
 leave her cheek ; and with a gentleness of voice and manner intended 
 to remove alai-m, she thus addressed my fair companion : — 
 
 " Lady, fear notliing ; all will yet be well, — and by courage and 
 caution danger shall be arrested. Go, and God bless you ! Kemeni- 
 ber what I have said and you have promised. You have deadly 
 enemies ; but. Hector O'HaUoran, you liave one devoted friend. Ay, 
 and humble as she is, trust to her ; and if she do not save, she'll die in 
 the attempt." 
 
 Ere the words were spoken, the gipsy had vanished behind the 
 bushes, leaving Isidora and myself in marvellous astonishment at a 
 scene equally unexpected and incomprehensible. 
 
 When we reached home, Mr. Hartley was waiting for us ; and after 
 dinner, when tSte-d-tete, I recounted our adventure in the Park. He 
 listened attentively to the detail, and asked me many questions, to 
 which, however, I could give no satisfactory replies. 
 
 " I am at a loss," he said, •' to fathom this singular affair. The 
 woman could have no object in creating an unnecessary alarm, and 
 3'et her communication was so vague, that one cannot even guess what 
 the danger is, or from what quarter it may be expected. StiU her 
 caution is not to be despised, and we must be upon our guard, until it 
 pleases your swarthy friend to be more ex|jlicit than she has been. 
 One course must be pursued. We must keep strangers at a distance, 
 and look at all as enemies." He took the note I had received from 
 3Ii'. Clifford on the evening after om* interview, and read it carefully. 
 '•' It is his signature indubitably," he murmured. " These well- 
 remembered characters are not to be mistaken. Had he received you 
 kindly — had he evinced the slightest symptom of abated displeasure 
 when you addressed him — and did a hope remain that time could mitigate 
 his callous feelings towards an ei'ring child — I would, in that case, 
 have suspected that in the monk you had that secret enemy of whom 
 you have been warned to beware. But no — the Jesuit is secure ; the 
 dupe is all his own. He will be contented with rendering all future 
 attempts to gain the old man's presence imavailing. That he can 
 effect, and more would be unnecessary. To me, the occurrence is 
 involved in mystery too deep to be even guessed at, and it seems one 
 that time only can unravel." 
 
 Although to the amatory effusions which reached me by every post 
 
 N 2 
 
180 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 I was cold as St. Senanus, when he was so barbarously virtuous as to 
 warn a single lady off his premises at midnight, still to woman's fasci- 
 nation I was not altogether insensible. By singular accident, I had 
 encountered a girl of extraordinary beauty in my walks ; and though 
 her demeanour was modest and retiring, I still fancied that I did not 
 pass her by unnoticed. She was apparently under eighteen ; and to 
 the sweetest face imaginable, united a faultless figure. Her mourning 
 dress was simple and becoming ; and her general appearance indicated 
 an humble respectability. To have insinuated aught against the con- 
 stancy of my passion for Isidora, should be, as Lord Ogleby says, 
 " by all the laws of love, death to the offender ;" but still, when we 
 passed each other in the street, I found myself involuntarily look 
 I'ound. Once, I imagined that the pretty incognita directed a furtive 
 glance at me ; and then, blushing at detection, she bent her eyes upon 
 the ground, and walked hastily on, as if prohibiting any attempt on 
 my part to address her, had such been my intention. But by a strange 
 accident, the introduction that pi'opriety forbade, chance efi'ected. 
 
 My birth-day came. I thought upon the sybil's warning in the 
 Park, and I confess that it was anything but an agreeable reminis- 
 cence. I was not afi'aid — for what had I to fear ? It was " an air- 
 drawn dagger" that impended; but still I was fiir from being quite at 
 ease. The day was gloomy ; a fog obscui*ed the sun ; the dull atmo- 
 sphere would damp the lightest spirits ; I felt its influence on mine ; 
 and when I reached St. Paul's, the gipsy's warning haunted my memory, 
 and it seemed to announce emphatically a coming evil. Her words 
 rang in my eai", and I thought I heard her again repeat, " Hector 
 O'Halloran, beware ! or your twentieth birth-day will be as bloody as 
 your fii'st." I mused upon the prophecy — " The ides of March were 
 come." "Well, the sybil said that courage and caution would over- 
 come tiic threatening danger. Both should be exercised ; and a few 
 brief hoiu's would fulfil or falsify the augury. 
 
 These sombre thoughts were suddenly interrupted, for directly 
 before me, and scarcely distant a dozen yards, I recognised the graceful 
 figure of the fair incognita, whom fortune, good or evil, appeared 
 determined to throw across my path continually. 
 
 Should I address her as I passed ? I wished to do so, but hesitated. 
 Suddenly a man huri'ied rudely along, and pushing with violence 
 against the pretty unknown, she staggered a few paces and would 
 have fallen on the flagway, had I not sprang forward and caught her 
 in my arms. The scoundrel who had done the mischief, dreading 
 the consequences of his brutality, hastened away, and was speedily 
 lost in the fog. 
 
 Fortunately, a tavern was immediately at hand. I supported her 
 in ; obtained a private sitting-room, the assistance of the females of 
 the house, and the incognita was speedily recovered. We were then 
 left alone. I received her warmest acknowledgments for my kind- 
 ness ; and thus encouraged, I pressed my inquiries to learn Avho she 
 was, and, with the timidity of a girl unaccustomed to hold converse 
 with a stranger, by degrees I learned the fair one's history. 
 
 She was the orphan of a soldier. Her father, a lieutenant in the 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 181 
 
 line, had ftxllen at the assault of Badajos ; her mother, years before was 
 dead ; and her only living relation, an aged aunt, wlio, from infir- 
 mities, was unable to leave the house. They enjoyed a trifling 
 independence — one that required careful management to render it 
 sufficient to meet moderate wants, and maintain a respectable posi- 
 tion in society. Hence she accounted for the necessity imposed upon 
 one so young of appearing frequently in public. 
 
 Over the simple story of a life, she threw a shadowing of romance 
 that strongly interested me. In alluding to the narrowness of her 
 means, my fair acquaintance mentioned circumstances which could not 
 but engage my sympathy. Her aunt had fallen into the hands of a 
 grinding solicitor, and been plundered accordingly ; for how could an 
 infirm old woman obtain redress, when opposed to a satellite of the 
 law ? Her father had demands upon the Government when he fell in 
 his country's cause ; but with no interest to support it, the claim was 
 made and rejected. No wonder, then, that Irish chivalry at once 
 prompted me to offer myself her champion, and I expressed a strong 
 desire to visit her aged relative. With some hesitation, she acceded 
 fb the request, and named, for a reason I have forgotten, a late hour 
 that evening for an interview. 
 
 "Were I asked what had excited this curiosity regarding the history 
 of a stranger, and with Avhat objects I sought a closer acquaintance 
 with the incognita, I could not answer the question. To Isidora my 
 allegiance remained unshaken ; and yet some secret impulse urged me 
 to cultivate an intimacy, Avhich prudence should have interdicted, and 
 every bond of love forbade. 
 
 The day appeared interminable. It wore away at last ; and the 
 hour drew nigh when I was to meet my young incognita. I told 
 Isidora of my morning adventure ; but I suppressed the fact, that an 
 evening interview Avas to follow it. I feared that ili*. Hartley, from the 
 habitual suspicion with which he scrutinized every transaction of life 
 that boi'e a questionable feature, would not approve of my becoming 
 patron to a girl so pretty and unprotected as the soldier's orphan, and 
 therefore I kept that intention to myself. Some business called him 
 out — my mistress complained of head-ache, and retired — the clock 
 struck nine — I rang for my cloak and stick — for of late I never went 
 abroad after dark without a stout shillelah — and, as I was leaving the 
 room, Dominique placed a sealed paper in my hand, which he said 
 had been just left with the porter by a person who disappeared the 
 moment it was delivered. 
 
 The billet was short; and the curious device attached to it, announced 
 that it came from the gipsy. It ran thus : — 
 
 "' Meet me on the right-hand side of Blackfriars Bridge, leading 
 from the City, precisely at midnight. The crisis is at hand ! I wish 
 to prepare you for it ! Fail not I" 
 
 I read the writing twice, and determined to arm myself well and 
 obey the summons punctually. Mr. Hartley Avas from home. No 
 doubt he would appear ei'e the hour of meeting arrived, and I waited 
 his return for half an hour, but in vain. The evening wore hea-vily 
 away — I thouglit of my appointment with the fair incognita — 
 
182 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 there would be time enough to keep it, and it would fill up an hour 
 agreeably. I left the hotel, and walked briskly towards the place 
 where the soldier's orplian told me she would be in waiting. 
 
 I reached the " trysting place," and stopped before the entrance of a 
 narrow lane, which the lofty houses on either side rendered still more 
 gloomy. That mass of masonry, St. Paul's, flung its deep shadow 
 over the space beneath it ; and there I halted, looking towards the 
 opening between the houses, from which I expected that my incognita 
 v/ould present herself. I was not kept long in waiting. A slight dark 
 figure flitted past, and a soft voice asked, in well-remembered accents, 
 "Is that you?" It was the soldier's daugliter. She took my arm ; 
 and under her guidance, I entered the gloomy alley from which I had 
 seen her issue. 
 
 But I must pause. "Where was my foster brother ? and how was 
 that worthy personage employed ? He, whose fortunes I have described 
 as being so strangely united with mine — where was he now, when the 
 crisis of my fate was coming ? Stay, gentle reader. Leave me for a 
 few minutes with the young lady — remember, the expedition was con- 
 ducted on platonic principles — and let us inquire what befel Mark 
 .Antony O' Toole, and his excellent ally. 
 
 During the first week that Mark Antony and the rat-catcher fivoured 
 the modern Babylon with their company, no adventure of particular 
 interest had fallen to the lot of either. As both these excellent per- 
 sonages enjoyed the perfect use of their limbs, their peregrinations 
 were numerous, and every interesting object the metropolis contained, 
 was visited from Tyburn to the Tower. In these agreeable excur- 
 sions, as yet no opening to future fortune had been discovered. It is 
 true, they had seen the world, and made sundry valuable acquaintances; 
 and in return for blue- ruin and heavy -wet, received excellent advice, 
 and also, a special invitation to attend the obsequies of a lamented 
 gentlewoman, who had shufiied off this mortal coil in a back attic, two 
 pair up, in Leg-lane. As this last token of respect to departed worth 
 was to be strictly private and genteel, the sticks were taken from the 
 visitors on the first landing-place as they arrived, and deposited in the 
 ruins of a clock-case, by a man with a wooden leg, who attended funerals 
 as chief mourner, and balls as master of ceremonies — and by this 
 useful functionai-y Mark and his friend were ushered into the apartment, 
 where all that was mortal of Mistress Ellinor Malone was lying in state. 
 
 The company were already assembled, amounting to some thirty of 
 both sexes, all friends and relations of the deceased, and natives of the 
 Emerald Isle— and nothing could be more imposing than the general 
 effect which the chamber of death presented. Mistress Malone was laid 
 out upon a bench, Avith a frilled cap upon her head, and a plate of snuff 
 upon her bosom. On one side, stood a three-legged table supporting 
 an unequal number of lights ; and on the other, there was a goodly 
 supply of gin, porter, and tobacco. Around the room the company 
 were seated, each gentleman supporting a lady on his knee ; and, 
 to judge from appeai-ances, a more united company had never been 
 collected in St. Giles's. 
 
 Being the latest arrivals from " the ould country," the ratcatcher 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 183 
 
 and Lis jouiig friend obtained particular attention— and on being pre- 
 sented by the single-legged gentleman, tliej were received, in person, 
 by the disconsolate survivoi*. 
 
 " ]Mister Macgreal, } e'r kindly welcome — and the same, to you, 
 Mister O'Toole— we'll brook ye'r name, for it's a good one ! I'm in 
 ffrate afflixshin, as you may parsave — but God's will be done ; " and 
 Mr. Malone crossed himself. " Patsey Doyle, fill the gintlemen a 
 cropper ach— and put a di-op in the bottom of a glass for myself, to 
 drink to better acquaintance." 
 
 The glasses being duly filled and emptied, Sir. Mdone feelingly 
 continued. 
 
 " Och, boys, af ye but knew my loss. There ye lie, Nelly ! could 
 as a crimpt cod; an when ye were sober — to be sure it was but 
 seldom— the divil blister the better wife in St. Giles's — an that's a big 
 word. Come, gintlemen, take a pinch out of respect for the dead — 
 Lord rest her — amen! — and then di-aw a sate, an make yerselves 
 agreeable. Patsey Doyle, there's a lemon-box in the corner — fix it, 
 avounierte, for the gintikuen — an now, ISIistress Braddigen, may be 
 yee'd obleege us wid a song." 
 
 The lady, an agreeable exception to professional melodists who never 
 sing when people want them, immediately complied with the request 
 of Mr. Malone ; and having, as a necessary preliminary, removed all 
 bronchial obstructions with o. jo Jut!/ of "cream of the valley," she ex- 
 ecuted with feeling and eff"ect that beautiful ballad, intituled " The 
 night before Larry was stretched" — and the weU-merited plaudits of a 
 delighted audience had just rewarded the exertions of the fair singer, 
 when two fresh arrivals were added to the company. 
 
 The visitors were of the softer sex. One, was a stout gentlewoman 
 of a certain age, whom he of the solitary leg announced as ]\Ii-s. Bunce — 
 and the second, a very pretty young one, was also introduced as Mrs. 
 Spicer. The fosterer and his friend, being the only gentlemen who 
 could afibrd accommodation to the new comers, the master of cere- 
 monies deposited the stout lady upon the knees of Shemus Rhua, while 
 to Mai-k Antony, the honour " of bearing the weight" of jMi's. Spicer 
 was entrusted. 
 
 The discernment evinced in the collection of the company would 
 have been in itself a suflicient guarantee for its general respectability ; 
 and hence, the intercourse, on aU sides, was easy and unreserved. 
 
 " 'Pon my sowl ! a ginteeler party I hav'nt been to these six months," 
 observed Mrs. Spicer to the fosterer, after she had turned down a fash 
 of max to ' a better acquaintance,' — '• and Malone — Lord comfort him 
 in sorra ! — shows the best of respect to his desaste lady. — I hope there 
 won't be any ruction the night, and that the wake will go ofi" agreeable. 
 The Connaught stockin'-man, who was bate at Phil Casey's baU a 
 Friday night, died this evenin' in Guy's Hospital. He left his death, 
 they say, on Phaybe Davis, for bitten him, wid the smoothin'-iron. 
 when down." 
 
 " I was rather afeard, Sally, dear," observed Mrs. Bunce to Mrs. 
 Spicer, " that cross ould file, yer husband, woiddn't let ye out the 
 nisrht." 
 
184 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " And not a toe would I have got over the trashold ather," re- 
 turned !Mi'S. Spicer, " only something he heard druv him into the 
 Minories, to ask after the carakter of a chap who came to lodge with 
 us last Monday. By gogstay, if the ould ruffin comes home early, and 
 finds me out — may be there won't be a purty too-roo kicked up ? Well, 
 the divil may care — as Punch said when he missed mass !" Then, in 
 a lower tone, she addressed herself to the fosterer. 
 
 " He's so gallows jealous," said the lady, " that one hasn't the life of 
 a dog. He, and his other wives" — (for it would appear that in the 
 connubial line INL". Spicer had dealt largely) — " were always murderiu' 
 one another — ay, and before the beak every week, and sometimes 
 twice too. Now, 1 have been married to him two months come Saturday, 
 and sorra mark he could show agen me but one black eye — for I can 
 bare a dale of provokashin — and that he brought upon himself too." 
 She then continued to remark, that Mr. Spicer's temper was but in- 
 different, and when he had "the cross glass in "a saint wouldn't stand 
 him. He had also " a most aggravatin' tongue," — and that evening, in 
 alluding to a former acquaintanceship which had existed between herself 
 and a drummer in the Guards, he used terms of so little delicacy, that 
 a mutual interchange of compliments resulted — Mrs. Spicer, receiving 
 the contents of a pewter pint, which token of connubial endearment 
 was as promptly acknowledged with the boot -jack, by which it appeared 
 an upper tooth had been effectually removed without the assistance 
 of a dentist — a loss, on Mr. Spicer's part, ill to bear, as it was the only 
 specimen of natural ivory he possessed. 
 
 In such light and jileasing conversation an hour passed unheeded — 
 for minutes winged with pleasure fly unnoticed. Harmony prevailed ; 
 and, by a philosophic effort, Mr. Malone forgot his loss, and at the 
 request of the company, and assisted by a violin accompaniment of the 
 gentleman with the wooden-leg, he chaunted " The Groves of Blarney." 
 It is right to observe that, in the selection of the song, an affectionate 
 deference to the taste of the deceased was observed, the said " Groves " 
 being an especial favourite of his departed companion. If ever wake 
 proved pleasant, ]\Irs. Malone's bade fair to be so. All were happy- — 
 Mrs. Bunce declared the ratcatcher an agreeable man — and the sooner 
 that Mr. Spicer looked after his truant spouse the better — for, were 
 the truth known, Mark Antony was making a wild inroad on a heart 
 that hitherto, had not " loved wisely, but too well." 
 
 " A change came o'er the spirit of the" night — the door unclosed — and 
 a square-built man, with a grizzled head and most infelicitous aspect, 
 was seen in the door-way, fixing a basilisk glance on " that fair frail 
 one" who rested on the fosterer's knee. An interjectional remark 
 from Mrs. Spicer left the identity of the personage indubitable — as 
 she observed, " That's the ould divil, andno mistake — and maybe there 
 Avon't be a reglar shindy ! " 
 
 Though the gentleman paused in the doorway, he lost no time in 
 opening the conversation. 
 
 " So ye'r there, Sally Spicer !" and the remainder of the sentence 
 was couched in language which the Court Journal would pronounce 
 irregular. 
 
HECTOR HALLORAN. 185 
 
 " And where else should I be, ye ould, batter'd-out apology for a 
 Christian ?" 
 
 "Come out o' that — tramp home — an may be ye wont catch it !" 
 
 " Can ye spare another tooth convanieutly ?" responded his re- 
 bellious helpmate. 
 
 "I'm waitin' for ye, Sal !" returned the elderly gentleman, with a 
 mysterious crook of the finger. 
 
 " Ye may go to Bath," replied the fair one, " and if that does'nt 
 
 agree with your constitution, why go to " and she named a locality 
 
 of much higher temperature. 
 
 " I say. Sail, ye vont go, vont ye ?" and Mr. Spicer made an advance 
 three steps neai'er to the lemon box. 
 
 " Not the length of that nose of yours, and its the longest and 
 ugliest in the room. If it would'nt be an impertinent question, Mr. 
 Spicer, what did ye do wid ye'r other nine wives ? — By gogstay — if all 
 the neighbours say is true. Bluebeard was a gentleman to ye !" 
 
 The remark Avas an unhappy one. A lady, whom Mr. Spicer in 
 earlier life had honoured with his hand, had been found dead under 
 suspicious circumstances, which rendered it a doubtful point to de- 
 termine whether her sudden exit was attributable to gin or stran- 
 gulation. In consequence, Mr. S. had to enter into a lengthened 
 exj^lanation at the Old Bailey ; and " having the luck of tliousands," 
 the jury gave him the benefit of a doubt, and finally lei't it upon 
 gin. The allusion, therefore, touched rather a tender point, and 
 huiTied matters to a crisis. 
 
 Mr. Spicer sprang forward, and seized his lady by the arm — and 
 Mark Antony, retaining the other, put in a decided remonstrance. In 
 Scott's parlance — 
 
 'Tew -were the words, and stern, and high, 
 That niark'd the foemen's jta/o^/s hate ; 
 For question fierce, and proud reply, 
 Gave signal soon of dire debate." 
 
 Mr. Spicer, discommoding himself of his coat and neckcloth, made 
 a sporting offer to fight for five pounds, which ]\Ii\ O'Toole accepted, 
 only making the consideration love, and not money — a proposition 
 that was received with general applause. 
 
 To all ofticiid accounts of modern battles, "preliminary observations" 
 are i)refixed. In early life, Mr. Spicer had been professional — but, 
 obtaining Avhat he considered a safer line of business, he abandoned 
 the ring, to repose himself under the shade of his own laurels. 
 Blinded by the green monster, he reckoned a little too much upon his 
 former science, forgetting the odds that youth and superior "size had 
 placed against him. Both parties had their backers. — " Now, old-un, 
 mind your dodge I" exclaimed the supporters of Mr. Spicer — while 
 the admirei's of Mark Antony, recommending the " young-un to be 
 awake," added, "that the ould file was a deep dodger;" and intimated 
 that it would be advisable to " look sharp to his left daddle, for that 
 was his nasty one." One other appeal — and a last one, came from the 
 corner ; " For the salie of Jasus, to keep the skrimraage as far from the 
 
18G THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 corps as tliey could." The admonition was tlie cry of wisdom, and it was 
 disregarded accordingly. 
 
 A briefer conflict never disappointed a sporting assembly. The 
 artful dodge, on which Mr. Spicer depended, failed ; and in trying his 
 left, he received a per contra favour that brought the battle to a close. 
 A flush hit sent him into the corner with astonishing velocity ; 
 and in his rapid transit, he took with him not only the master of the 
 ceremonies, but also, the mortal remains of Mistress Malone, and the 
 whole apparatus on wliich the defunct lady had been extended. 
 
 At this appalling catastrophe, the outbreak of the chief mourner was 
 responded to by " the cry of women." The single-legged professor 
 declared his ruin complete, that instrument from which he discoursed 
 such excellent music being " in smithereens" while it was exceedingly 
 doubtful, whether that Mr, Spicer was not defunct as Mrs.Malone. When " 
 the first uproar had partially subsided, the corpse was lifted by the 
 ladies — the polygamist raised by his friends and allies^and the fiddler 
 allowed to regain his perpendicular as he best could — while the admirers 
 of Mark Antony, after eulogizing his pluck, and paying a delicate 
 compliment to his powers as '* a punisher," hinted that it would be 
 prudent to withdraw, that it might be ascertained if Mr. Spicer 
 had been gathered to his fathers, or whether he Avas only " kilt, not 
 killed ;" and, finally, until the mortal remains of Mrs. Malone should 
 be duly reported " in statu quo ante helium" which, being translated, 
 means " stretched genteelly as before the shindy had occurred." 
 
 To the ratcatcher the prudence of an immediate retreat was mani- 
 fest ; and while general attention was divided between " the dying and 
 the dead," the fosterer and his friend quietly levanted, leaving, what a 
 few minutes before had been an harmonious assemblage, in most 
 admired disorder. 
 
 The rapidity with which Irish rows are commenced and concluded 
 is proverbial. Under the directions of a sailor, the wreck was cleared ; 
 and Mr. Spicer, whose advent had brought on the battle and " crossed 
 the obsequies, and true-love's rights," was declared to be still a living 
 man ; and being resuscitated by gin and neighbourly attention, he was 
 once more committed to the care of his gentle helpmate. The dear 
 departed one again received 
 
 " The latest favour at tlie hands 
 That, living, honoured her ;" 
 
 and the wake being restored to pristine solemnity, the afilicted hus- 
 band resumed his seat, vented his sorrows in soft melody, and again 
 gratified the company with a song. What were the after-proceedings 
 at Mr. Malone's evening party we are not prepared to say ; but no doubt 
 some notice touching the wind-up of the symposium, might be dis- 
 covered by the curious in the police chronicles of the time. 
 
 On the following afternoon, the funeral of Mrs. Malone was correctly 
 " performed;" and on the same evening on which I had made my entree 
 on the world, that lamented gentlewoman bade it a last adieu. The 
 mourners separated at the grave-yard, each to return to his respective 
 vocations ; and the captain and the fosterer retired to the Fox and 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAX. 187 
 
 Goose, to deliberate on affairs of paramount importance. Tlie question 
 was one of" ways and means ; and, as it would appear, the subject had 
 not been considered until circumstances imperatively required that 
 financial arrangements should be entered on. 
 
 '• What the devil's to be done?" observed the ratcatcher. " We're 
 down to thirty shillings between us — and a week's rent due to-morrow." 
 
 " I thought, before now," returned the fosterer, with a sigh, " that 
 something would have turned up— but I'm afraid, copteeine, we settled 
 in the wrong quarter of the town for any thing but love, di'ink, and 
 fighting." 
 
 '•' Feaks," said the ratcatcher, '•' and I'm pretty nearly of the same 
 opinion. Mark, jewel — what if we step over to the other side of the 
 city — and may be we miglit hear of something that one could tiu'n his 
 hand to ? " " 
 
 '•' It's too late tliis evening," replied the fosterer. 
 
 " Not at all, Mark — it's scai'cely gone eight." 
 
 " But Shemus, the truth is, I have a bit of an engagement." 
 
 " "\^liere, and what to do ?" inquired the ratcatcher, suspiciously. 
 
 " Why," said the fosterer, '-just as tliey sodded ^Mrs. Malone, a girl 
 slipped this letter into my hand." 
 
 " "NYliat is it about?" 
 
 " Nothing, hut an invitation to tea." 
 
 '•' Taa 1" ejaculated the captain, horror-struck. " If ye take to taa- 
 drinkiu', Hector, avourneeine, its over with ye ! ^Miat destroyed 
 Dick Macknamara but these accursed taa-parties? May the devU 
 smother the first inv enter of the same I — And where ai'e ye invited to ?" 
 
 The fosterer, instead of answering the inquiry, presented the billet 
 be had received in the grave-yard to the honest ratcatcher, who, with 
 some difficulty having managed to dec}-pher the writing, read the 
 contents, which were as follow : — 
 
 " leg lane, thursday, six o'clok. 
 
 '•' dear Sir, — i was gratley Consarnt you shood get in Trubbil on 
 my Acount last Nite, and the Naybors alow ye Behavd lik a Reglar 
 gentleman. Spicer's gon to the Sittay on bisnis that 'il keep him All 
 evenin' — So if you Good make it Conv anient to sUp in fair an asey 
 About 8 o'clok, wee wood have a Gup of taa, an' smn Agreeabel con- 
 versashin. The Favir of yer Gompnay will grateley Obleege, 
 
 " Yours to Gomand, 
 
 " Sarah Spicer." 
 " P. S. — For the Seak of Geesus, don't let aney body no Nothin' at 
 the Fox and Gose — they'r' Sure to split, an' no mistake. If Mister 
 Magrale wood sit in the wee Windy next the Door of the Fox, and 
 the divell druv Spicer horn, he'd be sure to see the oul screw Tm-nin' 
 the corner, and have Time to give us the offis. 
 ' My Pen is Bad, my ink is pale, 
 But my Hart too you will niver fail.' 
 
 " Your Lovin' friend, S. — S— ." 
 " n. b. — You'l Fine the door onley shut too — ^Push, an' it will Opin. 
 '■' Yours, as Before. 
 *' Too Mister Otool, occ. &c. &c. &:c," 
 
188 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " You would not be mad enough to go," said the captain, as he 
 returned Mrs. Spicer's flattering invitation. 
 
 " And how can I get over it ? " inquired tlie fosterer. 
 
 " Now mark my words — for you're bent on it, I see," continued 
 Shemus Rhua — "your taa-drinkin' will end in trouble. They say 
 here, that Spicer's house is notorious for harbouring the most desperate 
 characters in the Dials. If you're caught — no fair play like the wake — 
 but you'll be set on by half a score, out and out, murdered, and no one 
 to assist you. Mark, asiore — stay where ye are !" 
 
 But, like his greater namesake, Mark Antony, led by Dan Cupid, 
 seemed determined to run blindly to destruction ; and, disregarding 
 the warnings of the ratcatcher, he resolved 
 
 " To love again, and be again undone " — 
 
 and accordingly departed for the domicile of Mr. Spicer. 
 
 Shemus Rhua, when left alone, ensconced himself in the casement 
 described in the lady's letter, as " the wee windy next the door," to 
 take out-post duty for the evening, and secure the fosterer against 
 surprise. Full -of dark forebodings, he recalled to memory the divers 
 misfortunes which had befallen his unlucky 'protegee, Dick Macna- 
 mara, and all were clearly attributable to his unfortunate predilection 
 for drinking tea; and therefore, that Mark Antony's visit to Mrs. 
 Spicer would prove disastrous, he fatally anticipated. Between every 
 blast of the dlmdheeine, he turned a suspicious eye to the corner of 
 the street from which danger might have been expected, and proved 
 himself thus invaluable as a videt, as he had been prudent as a 
 counsellor. 
 
 The door of Mr. Spicer's mansion was exactly in the state that the 
 lady had described it — and, yielding to his push, the fosterer found 
 liimself in the presence of the lady. 
 
 Aware that time was valuable, Mrs. Spicer, after mutual wishes of 
 good health had been ratified by a glass of rum, proceeded at once to 
 business. She hinted at the infelicity of her marriage — ^and expressed 
 her determination to eifect a divorce according to the forms of St. Giles, 
 by which the tedious formalities of law are avoided, and no necessity 
 exists for troubhng the House of Peers. Of course, she must, as a 
 prudent woman, provide herself with a future protector ; and, in brief 
 terms, she confessed the secret of her love, and tendered her liand and 
 fortune to the safe custody of Mr. O'Toole. 
 
 How much soever the fosterer might have been flattered into a tem- 
 porary flirtation by the declared preference of a pretty woman, still, 
 true to the cantntrice and plighted faith, he declined the offer. But 
 Mrs. Spicer was not easily to be refused ; and considering that charms 
 might do mucli, but money more, she added that inducement. Taking 
 a key from her bosom, she proceeded to unlock a strong cupboard 
 built into the wall of the apartment, and, from external appearances, 
 formed for a place of security. 
 
 " This," she said, " is the place the ould fellow keeps his cash in — 
 and may be ye'll be after askin', how I came by the key ? — Feaks, an' 
 I'll tell ye. — You see, Spicer used to get mixed when any of the lodgers 
 
HECTOR o'HALLORAN. 189 
 
 would stand the liker — and we had a cracksman over-head, and he was 
 so sniart a young man, and so obUgin' I Well, I picks the ould file's 
 pocket, an' he blind drunk ; and, before he woke again, Sam Parkins 
 liad litted this one to the lock. Poor Sam ! — he was a spicy cove— not 
 like the dark sneaking body-snatcher that came after him. 'Gad, Pm 
 half af(;erd to go up the stairs at night, for fear I would tumble over a 
 stiff-un in a sack, as I did last Tuesday comin' late from Con Hal- 
 ligin's house-warmin' ." As she spoke, she appHed the key, while the 
 fosterer was lost between feelings of astonishment and disgust. 
 
 " Stop ! What arc you doing?" he exclaimed. But the deed was 
 already done, and Mr. Spicer's treasury feloniously opened to inspec- 
 tion. From this depositary, his faithless spouse produced a small box ; 
 and on lifting the lid, the fosterer perceived that it contained a number 
 of bank notes, with money in every variety of coinage, being the pro- 
 duce of tliat worthy gentleman's long and industrious life. The lady 
 looked at her intended lover with a smile of triumph — 
 
 " You see, Mark dear, I won't go to you empty-handed.'' 
 
 " 'SYliose property is that?" inquired the fosterer, suspiciously. 
 
 " AVhose but the ould screw's," returned the lady. '• Say but the 
 word, and, Mark, every shilling shall be yours." 
 
 " What ! would you rob ? and rob your husband too ?'' 
 
 " Ay, and not leave the ould rogue a mag to bless himself upon," 
 returned the unblushing oiFender. 
 
 " Let me out ! " exclaimed the indignant fosterer. '• By heaven ! 
 I should fear if I remained longer that the roof would fidl ! 
 
 " Stay, Mark darhne"— and Mrs. Spicer endeavoured to arrest the 
 escape of her refractory admirer. " Where will you get one that 
 loves you so tenderly, and that will bring you such a lump of money 
 into the bargain as myself?" 
 
 " And how is that money to be gotten?" returned the fosterer, 
 indignantly. " By the worst robbery of all— the plunder of a husband 
 by the woman who should stick to him to the death I " 
 
 " Stav, just and hear me." 
 
 "Not another minute!" exclaimed Mark Antony. ''Every mo- 
 ment I remam here, I feel as if I were giving encouragement to a 
 thief." 
 
 It has been said, that " hell has no fury like a woman spurned ; 
 and Mrs. Spicer proved that truth. Her colour fled— the glow of 
 passion with which she had vainly urged the honest Irishman to share 
 her ill-acquired wealth, changed to the ashy hue of hatred— and, 
 springing suddenly forward, she placed her back against the door to 
 bar the fosterer's egress. He took her arm, and firmly but quietly, 
 repeated his determination to leave the house. 
 
 " Never !" she exclaimed, " unless you take me with you." 
 
 " Are you mad, woman?" returned the fosterer; " and would you 
 keep me here until your husband returned, and discovered yoiu- 
 viHanous intentions against himself?" 
 
 At the moment, a strong force from without tlislodged the lady 
 from the door, and the voice of the ratcatcher continued, — '• And, upon 
 my soul ! that may be done without much loss of time, as the honest 
 
190 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 man and a couple of d — d ill-looking acquaintances, are coming round 
 the corner." 
 
 The announcement of Mr. Spicer's advent produced an instant and 
 awful effect on the feelings and countenance of his amiable consort. 
 
 " Holy Antony ! " she exclaimed; "we're all ruined and undone. 
 Off with ye at once ! " and she sprang forward to the window, and 
 after a hurried glance down the street, added, in a voice of terror, 
 " Lost ! lost ! — it's too late — and there will be murder ! Ha ! I have 
 it — quick, quick !" and after locking Mr. Spicer's treasury, she rushed 
 up stairs, followed by Mark Antony and his guardian genius, Shemus 
 Rhua. 
 
 IVIrs. Spicer stopped before a door on the first landing-place of the 
 upper story, and unlocking it, introduced her visitors into a dark 
 apartment, filled with lumber and old furniture ; and having cautioned 
 them to be silent, as every movement could be heard in the next 
 room, she hastily retired, with an assurance that she would deliver 
 them from captivity so soon as she " made the ould screw safe." 
 
 " Ton my conscience," whispered the ratcatcher, " we're in a nate 
 situation, Mai-k astore ! What did I tell ye ye'r taa-drinkin' would 
 bring us to ? Cromwell's curse on the importer of the same herb, 
 say I — for luck nor grace niver attended them that took to it ! Here 
 we are, as snug as if we were in Newgate, and that's pleasant." 
 
 " Hush, Shemus," returned the captain's companion ; " they're 
 come ! " as the steps and voices of several men were heard ascending 
 the lower stairs. 
 
 During this brief colloquy, the ratcatcher and his eleve had each 
 applied an eye to a fissure in the wood-work ; vvhile, ensconced in dark- 
 ness, they saw distinctly afterwards all that passed within. The room 
 and its occupants are easily described. 
 
 The former was a comfortless attic, with a blinded window, a truckle 
 bed, and a few mean articles of furniture. In one corner, there were 
 mattocks and shovels, with other implements of unusual formation, used 
 by gentlemen in the resurrection line ; while in another, there appeared 
 a choice collection of jemmies, skeleton keys, and every tool employed 
 in burglary ; all bespeaking that the tenant of the room was a person 
 of general acquirements, and equally an adept, whether taken as a 
 cracksman or a body-snatcher. 
 
 The appearance of the twain was most remarkable. The elder was, 
 a stout, ill-visaged, swarthy Hebrew, with voluminous whiskers, and 
 a most repulsive face ; the other, that thing of legs and arms, whom we 
 have already introduced as the confidant of Mi". Brown. 
 
 " How devilish dark !" remarked the hunchback. 
 
 " The better at times for business," returned a second voice. 
 (' Stop — there's a tinder-box on the table ;" and the sparkle of flint on 
 steel, was followed by the steadier glare proceeding from a lighted 
 candle. 
 
 It was quite apparent that the caution to remain silent from Mrs. 
 Spicer was necessary ; for through the chinks in the crazy Avood-work 
 of a door which divided the apartments, the slightest sound was 
 heard distinctly. 
 
HECTOR, OlIALLORAN. 191 
 
 " We're full li\te, and the sooner we are oif the bettqr," returned 
 the first speaker. 
 
 " We'll be time enough for some people, for all that. A man can't 
 go without his tools, Master Frank; and just keep yourself quiet, and 
 I'll be with you in a shake." 
 
 " Make haste. Josh. All's ready ; and fortune has done more for 
 us than I could expect." 
 
 " Well," said the Jew to the hunchback, " and how is the trick to 
 be done ?" 
 
 " Safely," replied the other. " Julia Travers has got him to meet 
 her. Lord, what a girl it is ! — There's not a decoy in London to be 
 compared to her. He believes her to be a soldier's orphan — and she 
 played her game so deep, and dressed so well too — I would have 
 passed her myself in the street, and never suspected she was any thing 
 but a regular respectable. Well, Jim and the smasher are waiting at 
 the dark turn of the alley — we follow — and while the chap's attention 
 is engaged in front, his back will be to you." 
 
 " I understand ye ; and this shall settle matters." 
 
 The ruffian took from the implements of his villanous profession, a 
 murderous weapon formed of whalebone and lead, and then producing 
 a glass and bottle, the hunchback and he drank a glass to good-luck, 
 extinguished the candle, and, locking the door of the apartment, 
 descended the staircase, and closed the street door heavily. 
 
 Before the fosterer and his friend could express their mutual asto- 
 nishment, the key was turned in the door of the closet where they had 
 lain perdue, and Mrs. Spicer presented herself. 
 
 " Hush!" she said, "for the sake of Heaven! — My husband has 
 gone for a minute to the Fox ! — Hurry — or we're ruined ! " 
 
 She took Mark Antony's hand — piloted him down stairs — the rat- 
 catcher followed — and when both had gained the street, she shut the 
 door suddenly, leaving her lover and his friend, as they say in L-eland, 
 " on the right side to run away." 
 
 The rapidity with which Mrs. Spicer had effected their deliverance, 
 enabled Mark Antony and his companion to reach the street so close 
 upon the heels of the ruffians, that they saw them turn the corner. By 
 a sort of mutual consent, they too took the same direction ; and, keep- 
 ing the scoundrels in sight, regulated their movements as they pro- 
 ceeded. As the clock struck ten, St. Paul's churchyard was at the 
 same moment honoured with the presence of divers personages — to 
 wit, myself and the incognita, the Jew and the hunchback — and, by a 
 strange accident, the fosterer and Shemus Rhua. How singular — 
 that my deliverance from certain death shoidd have been effected 
 through the agency of my foster brother ! 
 
 While the parties paused for a few moments in the church-yard, the 
 brief remarks that passed indicated the feelings and business of the 
 triads. 
 
 " How imprudent this meeting must appear, sir ! and how unguarded 
 in a female to venture out at this unseasonable hour !" was whispered 
 in the softest voice imaginable to some remark of mine, as I passed 
 the arm of the incognita through mine. 
 
192 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " By Heaven, the thing is safe ! " said the hunchbacked villain, in 
 an under-tonc, to his confederate. " See how blindly the poor fiat 
 runs into the snare, and follows the beck of the deepest dodger that 
 ever betraj-ed a fool I Stick close : and mind your blow ! Oh, that 
 1 had man's strength I — there's not in Britain one who loves a daring 
 deed more dearly. — "Would that the arm was equal to the heart ! — 
 How I shall delight to see that tall idiot, who would stare or smile 
 at my deformity, grovelling on the earth, and wondering how he con- 
 trived to get his skull cracked, while he thought only of Julia's charms, 
 and fancied himself in full security." 
 
 " Can ye see them, captain?" whispered the fosterer; '• I can't 
 distinctly, the night's so dark." 
 
 " Many a darker one I have watched the soldiers pass me on the 
 heather, after I was an outlaw," replied the ratcatcher. " I see a man 
 and Avoman. See, they turn to the right, under yonder di-owsy-looking 
 lamp ; and there — those other two — one the dai-k scoundrel we over- 
 lieard, and the cursed cripple he was talkin' to. "What are we to do, 
 Mai-k?" 
 
 " Stick to the villains like a brace of blood-hounds,*' replied the 
 fosterer. 
 
 " I don't half like it," said the ratcatcher ; " remember, Mark, how 
 nearly I was being hanged about the tailor's wife. " There's sure to be 
 murder ; and, holy Mary ! all this comes out of taa-drinkin' !" 
 
 Through dark and intricate turnings, the soldier's daughter con- 
 ducted me. I found the arm that was locked in mine tremble, and 
 yet the night was far from cold. As we advanced, the lanes became 
 darker and less frequented, and I could not avoid remarking, how 
 dreary and deserted the immediate neighbourhood of my young friend's 
 residence appeared to be. She replied — the tone of voice was agitated. 
 Was she ill ? I asked the question, and gently put my arm round her 
 for support. Suddenly, some terrible emotion convulsed her. 
 
 " No — no — no ! "' she exclaimed : " not for thousands will I do it ! 
 There's guilt enough upon my soul already ! " 
 
 " Come, Julia," I said, not clearly hearing what she said ; '"' I must 
 get you assistance. Come on." 
 
 " Not another step," she murmured. '•' Return — quick, quick — 
 away, away !" 
 
 She caught my hand convulsively, turned her lips to my ear, whis- 
 pered in a deep, low voice, " Ten paces further, and you are mur- 
 dered .'" and bounding from my side, vanished in the darkness, leaving 
 me the most confounded gentleman that ever followed that will-o'-the- 
 wisp — a woman. 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. IT 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 I ESCAPE BUT MR. SLOMAN MEETS WITH AN ACCIDENT. 
 
 " Malcolm. Tliis murderous shaft that's shot, 
 Hath not yet lighted ; aud our salVst ■vvay 
 Is, to avoid the aim." 
 
 * •;:• * * * * ■^• 
 
 "For 'tis the sport, to have the cnglueer 
 Hoist with his own petar." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 It was pitch dark, and tlie locality as mucli unknown as if I Lad 
 been dropped into Kamscliatka. "What the devil was I to do ? 1 
 tlu'ew my cloak off, rolled it round my left arm, and firmly grasped 
 my sapling ; then, commending myself to the especial protection of 
 St. Patrick, I endeavoured to retrace my steps. 
 
 I blundered on for half a minute, a low rascally whistle immediateh' 
 in my rear assuring me that I was in villanous society, from which 
 the sooner I parted company the better. Moving a pace or two 
 forward, my steps evidently attracted the attention of the scoundrels, 
 for a low voice inquired, '' Is that you — Josh?" 
 
 I never felt less inclination to be communicative, and silently con- 
 tinued my retreat. The suspicions of the cut-throats were confirmed. 
 I heard a voice desire his comrade to " Come on ;" adding, with an 
 oath, " the bird's alarmed ! " 
 
 It was idle attempting to steal a march upon an enemy already on 
 the alert ; and a dreadful conviction shot across my mind, that escape 
 from assassination was hopeless. To be coldly butchered in the dark — 
 to be hurried from the stage of life at the very moment of my entrance 
 on it — and in the spring of manhood to fill a bloody grave, with 
 every thing prospectively before me which renders human existence 
 desirable — the thought was horrible. These feelings were but momen- 
 tary, and other ideas filled my mind. To resist to the uttermost — to 
 display, even in death, a tiger-like ferocity — this changed the current 
 of my thoughts, and a soid-sinking despondency gave place to the ter- 
 rible calmness which desperate circumstances produce. I quickened 
 my pace— my steps fell heavily on the pavement — the murderers 
 increased their speed — and both parties rushed forward in the dark ; 
 I at random, and they in the full expectancy of attaining their object, 
 and gaining the recompense which wjis to be contingent on my 
 destruction. 
 
 Ac([uainted with the locality of the dark lanes in which I found 
 myself unfortunately involved, the scoundrels closed upon me fast, and 
 at last I was reguhirly brought to bay. 
 
 '• Back, villains !" I exclaimed. 
 
 " All's riglit — that's he — at him, Jim !" was responded. 
 
 o 
 
19 t THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 In one thing the daikness favoured me. My sapling was unpcr- 
 ceived ; the ruffians closed fearlessly — and the first intimation that 
 they had " caught a tartar" was by the bolder of the twain being sent 
 to the ground with a crashing blow that shattered his jawbone, and 
 rendered him hors cle combat. His companion instantly fell back, 
 and I was about to wheel round and continue my retreat, when a 
 heavy blow from behind knocked off my hat, and a knife grazed my 
 arm through the folds of the cloak that, fortunately for me, had formed 
 its protection. Need I say that the fresh assailants were the bravo 
 and hunchback ? while, encouraged by their assistance, the scared ruffian 
 resumed the olfensive. 
 
 My chances of escape appeai-ed utterly hopeless. The ruffians, 
 by dividing my attention on either side, had enabled the hunchback to 
 creep in and grasp my legs within his long and bony arms. Happily 
 the knife dropped from his hold in his first attempt to "stab me, and the 
 night was too dark to enable him to pick it up again. I strove to shake 
 him off, but the wretch clung to me with that virulent tenacity with 
 which a reptile coils itself around its victim. In the attempt to free 
 myself from the cripple, I struck my foot against a stone, stumbled, 
 and, before I could recover my footing, a blovv^ brought me to the 
 ground, the assassins sprang in, and my fate seemed sealed. 
 
 That brief space of exquisite agony I shall never forget. Oh, God I 
 how hai-d it is to die ! and die, as I should, by felon hands, prostrate 
 and powerless, murdered " i' the dark," without the satisfaction of even 
 in an expiring effort " stinging the wretch that stung me." That 
 naoment's misery was ended. Steps were heard. I hallooed " Murder! " 
 A voice, and, saints and angels ! an Irish one, replied. 
 
 The hunchback then hastily cried, " Quick !— strike !— brain him ! " 
 
 I caught the miscreant by the throat as the last word passed his 
 lips— and next moment two figures flitted past my fading vision, as 
 a blow fell upon my head, and laid me senseless. 
 
 Presently I awoke as from a dream. A man supported me ; another 
 put a cup of water to my lips ; and a couple of crippled watchmen 
 held their lanterns over us. I looked at my supporter ; he was strange. 
 My eye turned to his companion. In the dim light his features were 
 not remembered— and yet the hand that held the water to my hps was 
 my foster brother's. By degrees consciousness returned. 
 
 " Where am I ?" I muttered. 
 
 '' Arrah, the Lord only knows !" responded the ratcatcher. 
 
 " Was I not attacked— stabbed— knocked down ? AVho were the 
 assailants? Where are they?" I continued, as wandering recollec- 
 tions of the past flitted across my memory. 
 
 " Sorra one of us knows who they were ; but if you searched 
 London through, you would'nt pick out an uglier couple. One was a 
 spider-built divil without a back, and the other a black -muzzled thief 
 of a Jew, with whiskers you could hang your hat on. They're off- 
 bad luck pursue them ! — and among these twists and turnings, ye might 
 as well look for a rat in a rabbit warren, as ferret them out, the ruffins 
 of the world ! " 
 
 I rose with slight assistance, but staggered like a drunken man, 
 
HECTOR, OHALLORAN. 195 
 
 and, preceded by the watchmen to give lis light, walked slowly on, 
 leaning on the arms of my deliverers. AVe reached a public-house at 
 no great distance ; and having committed me to the care of the land- 
 lord and Shemus Rhua — guided by a Charlie, Mark Antony set out to 
 find a surgeon, perfectly imconscious who the stranger was, whom 
 timely assistance had so miraculously preserved from murder. 
 
 He returned ; the discovery was made ; and need I describe what 
 a meeting between persons attached by tlie tie of fosterage, under such 
 circumstances, would be ? I heard the detail of my deliverance. The 
 surgeon dressed my wounds, and pronounced them merely flesh ones ; 
 for the knife had only razed the skin, and, in the dark, the blow 
 intended as a coup de grace, had missed the head, struck against the 
 kerb-stone, and fallen on the shoulder lightly. That I had been 
 mai-ked out for deliberate assassination, the gipsy's warning, the 
 adventure in ]Mi\ Sjjicer's house, and the discovery of a clasp-knife 
 and jemmy dropped on the field of battle, sufficiently established. 
 We received those trophies from the venerable conservator of 
 the city's peace, paid him a fitting remuneration for the sei'vices of 
 his lantern, and parted nearly at the same spot from which a woman's 
 wiles had so recently seduced me — to wit, St. Paul's; I to return 
 to my own inn by a hackney coach, and the ratcatcher and my foster 
 brother to repair to the place from Avhence they came, with an arrange- 
 ment to meet next morning — 
 
 " That -we -n-ould all our pilgrimage dilate. 
 Whereof hy parcels -tve had something heard, 
 But not intentively." 
 
 I drove to Mr. Hartley's residence. He was at home ; and as 
 Dominique had signified that I was anxious to speak with him 
 before he retired for the night, he was waiting my return in the 
 drawing-room. I found him leaning against the mantel-piece, buried 
 in deep thought. His back was turned from me ; and as I unclosed 
 the door softly, for a few moments he was unconscious of my 
 presence. 
 
 " Might he be trusted yet?"' he muttered to himself. '•' I think 
 so — for he loves her. "Would it not be premature?" He raised his 
 eyes — " Ha, Hector ! returned ! What means that patch across your 
 forehead ? " 
 
 " An attempt," I answered, '• has been made upon my life, and 
 failed." 
 
 " Indeed I Where — and by whom ?" he asked eagerly. 
 
 Here was I again in trouble. To recoimt the evening's '•' moving- 
 accidents" without a formal introduction of the soldier's daughter, 
 would, as a nai-rative, prove lame and inconclusive, as to enact Hamlet 
 with the omission of the Prince of Denmai-k. I doubted whether 
 Mr. Hartley would approve of my advocating the young lady's claims 
 upon tlie government ; and, from his starched notions respecting 
 female propriety, it was most probable he would consider a noc- 
 turnal interview not exactly a regular pi-ocedure. I commenced 
 accordingly, " in fear and terror," as the lawyers say ; told a confused 
 story of meeting a girl in a fog ; blundered at bringing her into a 
 
 o 2 
 
lljG THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 tavern ; and totally broke tlown when we met in St. Paul's chiivcli- 
 yard, on our way to the domicile of her respectable relative. As we 
 proceeded in the dark, no doubt I stammered more. 
 
 " Come, Hector," said Mr. Hartley, " out with the whole truth ; 
 I liate half confidence." 
 
 On I went. With the acute auditor I had to deal with, it would 
 be useless to attempt concealment ; and he listened with deep interest, 
 and, as I fancied, no trifling mixture of displeasure, until I brought 
 my story to a close. 
 
 " You have had a marvellous deliverance, Mr. O'Halloran" — (He 
 mistered me, and that looked squally) — " and you seem a man born to 
 be the dupe of villains, through the agency of that worst of curses, 
 a vicious woman. One would have thought that your recent escape 
 from spoliation and disgrace by that amiable coterie in Jermyn Street, 
 would have made you rather cautious in forming acquaintanceships 
 with strangers, and believing every fjibricated tale you heard. I am a 
 candid man, and pardon me, while I give you a proof of my sincerity. 
 I credit your tale, and totally disbelieve your motives. You could 
 not be fool enough to remain for a second, in ignorance of the true 
 character of this lady of the fog ; for none but the profligate of her 
 sex would accede to the request of a young gentleman of twenty-one, 
 and, at first sight, grant him a nocturnal interview. This may seem 
 impertinence in me, who, apparently, have no right or interest in in- 
 quiring into your love affairs — although I must confess, that in 
 the selection of your female acquaintances you have not been particu- 
 larly fortunate." 
 
 " However imprudent, or, indeed, improbable my conduct may 
 appear, I assure you, sir, upon the unblemished honour of a gentle- 
 man, that my motives were precisely what I described them," I replied, 
 with a firmness of voice and manner, tliat at once guaranteed my 
 truth. 
 
 Mr. Hartley looked at me for a moment. He saw that his sus- 
 picions had hurt me ; and, convinced of my sincerity, he held out his 
 hand, which I accepted. 
 
 " Hector, I believe you, and acquit you of every thing but con- 
 cealment. Did you know the deep interest I feel in all that concerns 
 your character and future fortunes, you w^ould forgive me in testing 
 your motives and actions so rigidly as I do, and have done. No more 
 of this at present. Where is that scrawl you received this evening 
 from the woman Avhom you encountered with my daughter in the 
 park ? Your hand is feverish. Although you may not feel it at 
 present, you could not have passed through the deadly struggle you 
 have described uninjured. To bed, friend Hector; Dominique, a 
 second time, shall look to your wounds, and I for once play gallant, 
 and keep your appointment with the lady of the bridge. Hark ! the 
 clock chimes. Half-past eleven. Tlie ' trysted hour' is twelve." 
 
 I assured Mr. Hartley that I neither required leechcraft nor 
 repose, but was most willing he should hear me company. The 
 negro was summoned ; his master gave orders in a whisper ; I filled 
 a glass of wine and water ; Mr. Hartlev unlocked a mahogany 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAX. 197 
 
 case, presented me with a brace of beautiful pistols, and put anotlier 
 brace into his own pockets ; told me they were loaded ; and next 
 moment the sable functionary appeared with a dark lantern in one 
 hand, and a bludgeon in the other. All we recpiired was the com- 
 panionship of the ratcatcher and Mark Antony, to enable us to take 
 regularly to the road, and rob every coach within sound of Bow" bell ; 
 at least, so said i\Ir. Hartley. 
 
 "Were it possible, the night was darker than when I kept my assig- 
 nation with the soldier's orphan. Three f[uarters chimed ; and ere the 
 liour of meeting struck, we were punctually at the place appointed. 
 
 The bridge was wrapped in fog ; and the two or three lamps that 
 still burned, flared such a dull and yellow light, as merely rendered 
 " darkness visible." The night was raw and chilly, and, save a few 
 passing citizens, " few and far between," the causeway of Blackfriars 
 was deserted. It was an hour Avhen none but the unfortunate are 
 abroad ; a night when only the houseless are encountered. All that 
 was orderly were in-doors ; and the elderly gentlemen, to whom 
 watch and ward were entrusted, properly declined to exhibit a bad 
 example of being found upon the streets, and ensconced themselves 
 in comfortable corners of the night-houses most contiguous to their 
 respective beats, leaving the dreary pavement to persons of indifferent 
 reputation. No wonder, then, that we found ourselves in unmolested 
 possession of the bridge. I took a position at that extremity which 
 the gipsy's billet had pointed out ; while Mr. Hartley and his 
 attendant occupied the recess immediately opposite my post. 
 
 A quarter chimed — another — and anothei*. At last, dull as a muffled 
 drum, one heavy stroke boomed from the clock -tower of St. Paul's, 
 and announced the first hour of morning. 
 
 " Hector," said Mr, Hartley, as he crossed the bridge, " it is useless 
 to remain longer here. Your prophetic friend for once has broken 
 her promise." 
 
 " 'Tis false I" replied a voice within half-a-dozen paces — " she is 
 here ;" and a figure too much concealed for recognition flitted from 
 
 the centre of the bridge, and boldly joined us. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Again the scene must change ; and once more we shall carry the 
 indulgent reader into the close alley where Mr. Brown's domicile was 
 situated, and, at half-past eleven, introduce him to old acquaintances, 
 — the worthy owner of the mansion, and IMi-. Sloman, his respected 
 friend. 
 
 They were seated at the table, with all the appurtenances that ren- 
 dered their former interview so pleasant ; but the present mood of 
 the worthy couple was very different from the former one. The 
 countenances of both betrayed anxiety and impatience. To plot is 
 one thing — to perpetrate another ; and a deed of blood propounded 
 and agreed to on their first meeting, was now^ in course of execution. 
 No wonder that the scoundrels felt ill at ease ; not that either felt the 
 slightest compunction for hurrying a fellow-creature into eternity ; the 
 failui-e of the attempt was w hat tliey dreaded, with a fear, if the deed 
 were done, that some circumstances should attend it which ultimately 
 
198 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 might compromise their safety. Thej drank, but the wine had no 
 flavour ; or if it had, it failed to call forth their approuation. They 
 spoke but little ; the sentences that passed were brief and in an under 
 tone ; and at the slightest noise without l)oth started ; each appearing 
 impatient for intelligence, and yet half afraid to hear what the residt 
 had been. 
 
 " What the devil can delay them?" obsei'ved Mr. Brown. '• The 
 thing should have come off an hour ago." 
 
 " They may have f\uled," replied Mr. Sloman ; " or have done it, 
 and been detected ; or — but, thank God, I know nothing of the 
 matter." 
 
 " Pish ! as much as I do," returned the owner of the mansion. 
 
 '•' How can you say so, Mr. Brown ? " returned Mr. Sloman, 
 angrily. 
 
 The host directed a meaning look at his visitor. 
 
 '^ Slowey, how soft you are ! Well, don't fear ; in England there's 
 not a better hand at ci'acking a skull than Josh Levi ; and at the 
 knife — the creature's too weak for anything but light woi'k — I'll back 
 Frank for a hundred." 
 
 " Damn it, don't tell me particulars," exclaimed the lawyer. 
 " I wish all was over ; I safe in Mary Axe ; and you with your four 
 hundred snug in pocket." 
 
 " Is the cash right ?" inquired Mr. Brown. 
 
 Mr. Sloman deigned no reply ; but, producing a leather case from 
 his side-pocket, he reckoned over nine bank notes, 
 
 " I don't know a nicer thing to look at, than a clean hundred-pound 
 flimsey fresh from the Bank," observed Mr. Sloman, playfully. 
 
 Suddenly the street-bell rang, and a low and peculiar whistle fol- 
 lowed the sound. Mr. Brown started. 
 
 " By Pleaven ! that's not Frank's signal," he exclaimed. " Some- 
 thing is wrong, or the hunchback would be the first to bring 
 intelligence." 
 
 Another, and a louder ring, told the impatience of the midnight 
 visitor ; and Mr. Brown descended to the lower story to ascertain who 
 it was that at this late hour required admission. The answers from 
 without satisfied him that the stranger might be let in. The chains 
 rattled ; the bolts were drawn ; again the door was carefully secured ; 
 and Mr. Brown returned to his state apartment, accompanied by a 
 very repulsive-looking gentleman, namely, the swarthy Israelite, who 
 earlier in the evening had been reconnoitred by the captain and his 
 companion while lying perdu in Mr. Spicer's lumber-room. 
 
 The ruffian's face was flushed, one eye was swollen and discoloured, 
 the collar was torn from his coat, and blood-stains were visible on his 
 hands and linen. His whole appearance was that of a man recently 
 engaged in some sanguinary affray. 
 
 A pause ensued. Mr. Brown filled a glass of brandy, which the 
 Jew drained to the bottom. 
 
 " What news. Josh?" said the host, in an under tone. ''Is the 
 job done ?" 
 
 " jSTo mistake about it," returned the bravo. 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN. 100 
 
 '•' You had a tussle for it," remarked the host, as he threw a care- 
 less look over the outer man of the Jew, which gave ample indication 
 that the aftair he had been recently employed in, to him had proved 
 no sinecure. 
 
 •* I tell you what, Mr. Brown, I have been in the general line of 
 bisness these fifteen year ; lifted three stiff 'uns of a night ; been 
 shot at half-a-dozen times ; got lagged ; escaped transportation ; and 
 gone through as much rough work as any man in the trade ; and in 
 the course of my practice, 1 never had a tougher trial than to-night. 
 Another drop of the brandy, if ye please." 
 
 " But is the thing right, Josh?" inquired Mr. Brown, who always 
 came to business. 
 
 " Safe as a trivet ! I'll tell you all." 
 
 '•No, no — curse particulars!" exclaimed Mr. Sloman. "You 
 may mention the thing in confidence to Mr. Brown. I know nothing 
 of what you are alluding to, remember that." 
 
 " Well, no matter, Slowey ; Josh and I will talk it over presently. 
 But where is Frank ? No harm done him, I hope. I wouldn't lose 
 that hunchback for a hundred." 
 
 '•' Is he not here?" was the Jew's unsatisfactory reply. 
 
 " Here ? No I We have expected him an hour ago," returned his 
 master. 
 
 " Then I'm blowed if I know any thing of him." 
 
 " But out with it. Tell us how matters went," said Mr. Brown. 
 
 '• Not in my presence," exclaimed Mr. Sloman, springing from 
 his chair. 
 
 '• Well, if you're so devilish leary, you may go into that there closet ;" 
 and he rose and opened a door, through which INIr. Sloman imme- 
 diately retreated ; " and Slowey," continued Mr. Brown, in a lower 
 voice, " you'll find a slit in the door, and hear as much through it as 
 will suit your purpose." 
 
 " I don't like that 'ere chap, he's so etarnal cautious," observed the 
 Jew to Mr. Brown, when he returned. " If men mean wots right — 
 as they ought — why be ..feard to talk on bisniss?" 
 , " Hush I " returned the host, as he applied his finger to his nose ; 
 " and now about the job, old boy. Drink slow. Josh ; a third glass 
 will smother ye." 
 
 The Israelite replaced the brandy he was about to bolt, and then 
 continued his nai-ration, which, though delivered in a low voice, was 
 perfectly audible in Mr. Sloman's concealment — the fissure in the 
 wood having been cunningly constructed for the purposes of j)rofes- 
 oional espionage. 
 
 " Well, ye see," said the bravo, commencing his murderous nar- 
 ration, " Frank and I — and he's a handy little creature for a thing of 
 legs and arms — were true to time at St. Paul's ; and there we spied 
 our man reg'lar in tow with Julia. Away they goes together, and we 
 follows close behind. When we comes to the place, tlie girl had 
 mizzled, and Jim and ' the smasher ' gone too soon to work ; and, my 
 eyes — if they hadn't cotched it heavy ! At him we goes from behind ; 
 Frank with his gully, and I with this here preserver ;" and the scoun- 
 
•200 THE FORTU^'ES OF 
 
 <lrol oxliibitod the murderous implement he used. " I niver, nowhere, 
 saw 11 chap more wid(^ awake. He fouglit like a good-un ; and he 
 was so knowin', that it was almost impossible to draw him. At last 
 Bill and I divides his att<Mition, while Frank gripjuxl him round the 
 legs. Pie stumbled, fell, and the game was up ; for I fetched him a 
 blow across the skull that would have shattered a horse's head, and 
 left him dead upon the kerb-stones. Before I could strike again — for 
 one likes to make things safe, ye know, Mr, Brown — two chaps jumps 
 in as if they had riz out of the paving-stones. ' The smasher ' was 
 grassed in a moment — and I knocked clean away. I nivir got sich a 
 nasty one in my life ! I was all astray after it — and I know nothing 
 more whatsomever, only lights came up, and fresh ones joined the 
 others. I sneaked off as well as I could, reeling like a di'unken 
 man, and leaving our customer dead as a mackarel." 
 
 " You're sure he's done for?" inquired Mr. Brown. 
 
 " Done for ! " and a second time the scoundrel produced his imple- 
 ment of murder. " Is there a skull in England that would require a 
 second blow of that small article ? " 
 
 " The man is safe enough, no doubt," returned Mr. Brown ; " but 
 Avhat can have happened to Frank ? Hark — by Heaven ! he's at the 
 .loor !— All's right ! " 
 
 The signal was a curious imitation of angry cats, accompanied by a 
 low sound upon the house-bell. Mr. Brown at once hurried down, 
 and gave admission to his hunchbacked favourite, who followed him to 
 the upper-chamber, accompanied by the ruflian called " the smasher." 
 
 To the joint inquiries of the Jew and Mr. Brown, the deformed one 
 gave satisfactory replies. It appeared that in the act of falling, I had 
 kicked the weak wretch from me with such violence as drove him 
 across the narrow lane ; and before he could gather himself up again, 
 the fosterer and his friend achieved my rescue. Self-preservation was 
 now the hunchback's care ; and, crawding away unperceived in the 
 confusion, he coiled himself in an obscure corner, from which, though 
 concealed himself, all that passed subsequently was visible. Thence, 
 lie witnessed my recovery, and saw me, with slight assistance, leave 
 the scene of the attempt upon my life. In several efforts to get off, 
 the scoundrel had been nearly detected ; and when he did succeed, he 
 and his confederate Avere delayed by the removal of their disabled 
 comrade ; and hence, an hour elapsed before he could reach the 
 tl welling of his worthy master. 
 
 " Where's Bill ?" was Mr. Brown's first inquiry. 
 
 '' Stretched wuth a broken jawbone in the Fortune of War," was the 
 reply. 
 
 " It seems the job was any thing but an easy one. But it's done — 
 and tliat's a satisfaction." 
 
 " It would have been," returned the hunchback, " if I had not 
 dropped the gully." 
 
 " What the devil do ye mean ? — Isn't he finished?" 
 
 " No more than you are," was the answer. 
 
 The Jew broke in with a coarse contradiction, and swore lustily 
 that I was regularly defunct. 
 
HECTOR o'lIALLOKAN. 201 
 
 " Well, all I can say." continued the being of leg? and arms, " that 
 for a dead gentleman he spoke as plain as I do. He was a little 
 groggy when lie got up, hut in a few minutes he walked away as 
 steadily as I can." 
 
 " Damnation ! Speak low — hut all is overheard— and the reward is 
 lost, I fear," muttered 3Ir. Brown. 
 
 " The worst of it is," continued the hunchbaek, '= that my name is 
 on the knife, and Bill has dropped his jennny." 
 
 " Ay, and the least clue will send the Bow-street villains after us 
 immediately." 
 
 " I won't remain another moment," exclaimed Mr. Sloman, hur- 
 rying from the closet, and catching up his hat. 
 
 " "Stop, my dear friend ; all may be yet put right. Frank, bring 
 these gentlemen to the parlour. They will require a bit of bread and 
 cheese after their exercise ; and when I have spoken a few words to 
 Mr. Sloman" 
 
 " That an't my name !" exclaimed the alarmed lawyer, as the scoun- 
 drels left the room. " Damn it, Mr. Brown," he continued, ^' how can 
 you be so stupid? I thought I was deaUng with a safe man of business. 
 "Wliat the devil do ye call men by their right names for ? " 
 
 " It was an oversight," returned the host. " Don't mind, .Slowey — 
 all's safe here— and we'll do the job better the next time we get an 
 opportunity. Do we touch upon account to-night ?" 
 
 " Xot a rap I" exclaimed Mr. Sloman, peevishly; "but won't 
 you return the hundred ?" 
 
 Mr. Brown answered only by a look, but that look %vas an expres- 
 sive one. It said, or seemed to say, in the elegant parlance of the 
 present time, " Don't you wish you may get it?" 
 
 " I want to be off," observed the laAvyer, seeing that all chance of 
 restitution was hopeless, "and I don't like to be stared at by those 
 body-snatchers in the parlour. The scoundrels never forget a man ; 
 andj as I attend the Old Bailey professionally, they might remember 
 me on their trial, and call upon me to speak to character." 
 
 " Stop, my dear friend, a minute where you arc, and I'll do the 
 business effectually. Do take a little brandy and water before you 
 start. It's not to every body I give that Cognac ;" and the host left 
 Mr. Sloman to refresh himself" before he should set out upon his 
 return homewards. 
 
 The hunchback and his companions were seated at a table in the 
 lower room, when Mr. Brown glided softly in. They had drunk 
 freely, for the failure of the night seemed to have occasioned a general 
 amioyance. 
 
 " By Heaven !" said the larger of the Jews, " I never, in the ring 
 itself, received such punishment. And then the risk — and nothing for 
 it. The attempt at murder is now a hanging matter. There's law 
 for ye ! "Well, I suppose that chap Sloman will make us some 
 amends, and come down handsome, as he should do, for our being 
 regularly served out in trying to oblige him." 
 
 " You'll never find grace or gratitude in a lawyer," returned the 
 hunchback. 
 
202 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " If he does not stump up, why I say he has no conscience," ob- 
 served " the smasher ;" " but here is INIister Brown." 
 
 "What are we to have for this night's trouble?" inquired the 
 stouter Jew. 
 
 " Sloman won't stand a rap, because the thing's a failure. I tried 
 liim hard ; but he won't bleed, nor come down with a single iiimsey ; 
 and yet I'd give a hundred for what he has in the side-pocket of his 
 coat ; ay, and gain another by the bargain." 
 
 " You would, would ye?" inquired "the smasher." 
 
 " Ay, and drop a jiony over and above. Come here, Frank;" and 
 Mr. Brown retired with the hunchback, and left the ruffians to com- 
 mune with themselves. 
 
 What passed between the owner of the mansion and his favourite is 
 wrapt in mystery. The former returned to the ajiartment overhead, 
 "to do the civil thing" to Mr. Sloman; the latter, to arrange some 
 pressing business Avith his confederates in the parlour. Iia ten minutes 
 Frank announced that " the gentlemen below " were gone ; and Mr. 
 Sloman, having expressed his satisfaction at the intelligence, buttoned 
 his coat closely over the side-pocket where his note -case was deposited, 
 put on his w^rap-rascal, wound a shawl around his throat to secure 
 it against the night air, was conducted to the churchyard door by the 
 host, and respectfully lighted out by the hunchback. 
 
 " No failure, I hope, next time, Mr. Brown," was the lawyer's 
 valediction. 
 
 " Ifs all made safe alreaclij. God bless you, Mr. Sloman ! " 
 
 And these excellent gentlemen parted with a hearty " Grood night." 
 Frank closed the door, Mr. Brown returned to his great chamber, and 
 Mr. Sloman hurried away in the direction of his own residence. 
 
 An unbuilt piece of ground, not a hundred yards from the small 
 cemetery we have described as the place on which Mr. Brown's 
 house abutted, Avas early next morning tlie scene of public curiosity. 
 There, a man had been discovered dead ; his skull fractured by the 
 blow of some blunt instrument, and his pockets rifled of every thing 
 they had contained. Within an hour the body was duly recognised. 
 The deceased was Mr. Sloman, 
 
 Who were the murderers? Gentle reader, I think you have a 
 shrewd suspicion already. But " time tells many secrets," — so says the 
 Gaelic adage ; and as none have doubted its accuracy, we'U wait 
 for further information on the subject. 
 
HECTOR o'lIALLORAN. 203 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 SUNDRY OCCrRRENCES NARRATED MR. BROWN AND UlS KSIEND3 IN 
 
 TROUBLE. 
 
 '• Murderer. Safe in a ditch he bides, 
 
 "With twenty trenched gashes on his head ; 
 The least a death to nature." 
 
 ******** 
 
 " Yolk-fellows in arms. 
 Let us to France 1"' 
 
 SHAK3PEARE. 
 
 " You are late, mj friend," I said, as the gipsy stopped beside me 
 and Mr. Hartley. 
 
 " I am too late to warn you against the attempt, but in good time 
 to apprise you of the extent of the danger you have escaped, and im- 
 plore you, as you value life, to profit by it," was the reply. 
 
 " You are then aware that I have been assailed, and providentialljr 
 rescued?" 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " Did you witness the attempt upon my young friend's life?" asked 
 Mr. Hai'tley. 
 
 " No ; had I been near enough, the attempt would never have been 
 made." 
 
 " Then you must have obtained a knowledge of it in a marvellously 
 short time after the occurrence." 
 
 " I have," replied the gipsy ; '•' and, as time is precious, I shall at 
 once tell the means by which I gained that information. I had 
 received an intimation that certain agents would be employed, and, 
 anxious to learn the plans that would be adopted, I repaired to a place 
 Avhere I was well aware the ruffians could be met with. Earlier it 
 would have been useless to have sought them — crime and darkness 
 are companions — and the boldest ruffian of the party dared not venture 
 from his skulking-place in the broad light of day. I went and found 
 them, not preparing for their murderous essay, but foiled in the 
 attempt, and venting, in impotent execrations, their rage at disappoint- 
 ment. From one maimed wretch I heard the particulars of their night 
 adventure, after his companions, leaving him to my charge, had gone 
 to report their failure to the scoundrels who had employed them." 
 
 " And after the dangei-'s past, you come to congratulate my young 
 friend on his deliverance I Methinks, it would liave been doing better 
 service to have apprised him of his peril, and not entrusted his escape 
 from the murderer's knife to the accidental assistance rendered by 
 some passing strangers." 
 
 " Had I not already cautioned him sufficiently ?" returned the gipsy. 
 ' • If he allowed himself to be made the dupe of an artful woman — one 
 
20 i THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 with tlie semLlance of purity and innocence veiling a heart that from 
 infancy has been famiharized with ci'ime — and whose beauty seems to be 
 given so havishly, only to render her a greater curse to the community 
 — was I to blame ? All that a Avoman's art could do was done. Were 
 he the oiFspring of first love, his safety could not be dearer to a mother. 
 Once more, Hector O'ilalloran, I come to Avarn you. Danger is 
 averted, but not passed ; and I repeat my former admonition : regard 
 every stranger who approaches you as an enemy ! " 
 
 " But, woman, witli the knowledge you possess, why not end this 
 state of insecurity? Tell us whence danger is to come — denounce his 
 assassins — and the laws of England are quite sufficient to protect my 
 young friend from those who seek his life." 
 
 " To save is one thing, to betray another ; and I would preserve 
 his life, if possible, without compromising that of one whom I know 
 to be his deadliest enemy. But of one thing rest assured — should no 
 other means succeed — the guilty shall be sacrificed and the innocent 
 preserved. Farewell. Trust implicitly in me. Early to-morrow 
 expect to hear from me ; and stir not from home until my letter shall 
 be delivered." 
 
 She turned away ; we heard her steps receding in the darkness. 
 Presently the sounds became fainter until they died away, and we 
 returned to our own hotel, very little wiser than when we left it. 
 
 " I cannot even fancy who our foemen are," said Mr. Hartley, as he 
 leaned thoughtfully against the mantel-piece. " At times a vague 
 suspicion crosses my mind. That monk, and his associate, who have 
 enthralled your grandfather, and estranged the dotard from the child 
 who should have been the solace of his age, they look no doubt upon 
 you as a dangerous rival. But were their fears greater, and did they 
 wish, even by violence, to rid themselves of one who might mar their 
 schemes, still the villany would require some time ere it could be 
 sufficiently matured for execution. The secret motives which actuate 
 that mysterious woman are also impenetrable, but her fidelity is beyond 
 a doubt. "Well, Hector, we must needs be ever on the alert until 
 time developes more than we know at present. And now, to bed." 
 
 We separated for the night ; and never did the slumbers of a private 
 gentleman prove less refreshing than mine. I dreamed eternally of 
 every thing abominable. One time, the gipsy was sounding into 
 my attentive ear her mj-stic warnings ; the next, with smiles, sweet 
 enough to bother any saint in the whole calendar, that demon-girl was 
 beckoning me along dark and dreary passages, — and I mechanically 
 following, although perfectly conscious that she lured me to the grave. 
 No wonder that next morning I rose with an aching head ; and then, 
 for the first time, ascertained the extent of the injury I had sustained. 
 It is true the hurts were superficial ; but from the number of bruises 
 my arms and back exhibited, many blows had fiillen on both, although 
 at the time they were unfelt by me. 
 
 I was the last personage to present myself at the breakfast table. 
 I found Isidora there, pale and agitated; for Mr. Hartley had just 
 acquainted her w-ith my narrow escape from assassination. To do him 
 justice, he omitted every particular of my having undertaken to arrange 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 205 
 
 Miss Julia Travers' claims upon the government ; and. as good men 
 '•' blush at the record of a virtuous act," I was delighted to find that 
 my beneficent intentions regarding the soldier's orplian were silently 
 passed over. AVhen I took her hand in mine, I felt it tremble ; and, 
 from the manner of both, had Mr. Hartley been ignorant of our attacli- 
 ment before, that morning's meeting would have betrayed the secret to 
 one far less discerning tlian he was. 
 
 As breakfast ended, the postman's knock was heard ; and presently 
 Dominique presented several letters to Mr. Hartley and myself. His 
 appeared to be full of interest, from the attention with which he 
 perused their contents ; and mine, to me, were equally important. One 
 was from my father, and it apprised me that he expected to get me 
 placed on the staff of one of his old friends, a general oflicer, com- 
 manding a brigade of the army now advancing towards the Pyrenees ; 
 and the other, a formal notification of my appointment, with an 
 order for my departure forthwith for the Peninsula, by a sloop-of- 
 war, which was to sail on the third day from Portsmouth for Passages, 
 laden with money and military stores. 
 
 While I was reading my despatches, Mr. Hartley rose suddenly and 
 left the room, to reply to one of his that required an immediate answer. 
 More unwelcome intelligence never met the eye of a soldier of fortune, 
 than the unexpected order to leave England now appeared to me. 
 How differently the route for the Peninsula would have been regarded 
 a fortnight since ! Involuntarily I raised my eyes — and they encoun- 
 tered those of my gentle mistress. She had perceived that the 
 letters I had just received contained news of no ordinary interest. 
 I rose, and seated myself beside her, and gradually announced that 
 the hour of parting was at hand. 
 
 I need not describe the scene that followed. Those who have loved 
 as we did, can guess it well; and fancy what the "cold in blood" 
 coidd never know nor feel. Isidora's hand was locked in mine ; and 
 my flushed cheeks, and her tearful eyes, told too well, how agonizing 
 the first severance of love is. Suddenly the door opened — Mr. 
 Hartley entered — he paused a moment in surprise; and, while she 
 was covered with blushes, and I astonished beyond the power of iree 
 agency, he advanced and stood before us. 
 
 " Soh! — what means this folly, may I ask?" 
 
 The tears flowed faster down his daughter's cheeks, while I, uncon- 
 sciously, still held her hand in mine, and merely })ointed to the letters 
 that were lying on the table. 
 
 Mr. Hartley read them hastily, and, without evincing any mark of 
 displeasure at the discovery he had made, he beckoned gently to his 
 daughter, and next moment she was seated on her father's knee, her 
 arms clasped fondly round his neck, and her head rested on his bosom. 
 
 " Isidora," he said, in that soft tone of voice with which he always 
 addressed his favourite, " I have been already prepared for this dis- 
 covery ; and had I been unfriendly to the growth of an attachment 
 which I have witnessed with satisiaction, I would have discouraged 
 the unrestricted intimacy which has existed between you and my young 
 friend, and which in youth is ever too dangerous to be permitted. 
 
20G THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 I think I have known the world too long, to have any doubt upon ray 
 mind respecting this gentleman's feelings towards you, my child ; but, 
 nevertheless, I will inquire of him whether I have correctly formed 
 this opinion." 
 
 My reply was a florid declaration of youthful passion, whose ardour 
 elicited from my gentle mistress a look which told me that my love 
 was faithfully reciprocated. 
 
 " "Well, I believe you, Hector. Circumstances have hurried matters 
 ou more rapidly than I had expected. I have watched you suspi- 
 ciously ; for he who would trust his earthly treasure to the keeping of 
 another, will be guarded ere he pai'ts with it. I am satisfied that all 
 which I value will be safe. Continue to deserve it ; and when events, 
 now in slow progress, shall have come round, and prudence justifies 
 the step, this hand, Hector," — and he placed Isidora's in mine — " the 
 dearest gift a father can bestow, is yours." 
 
 Young love is eloquent, and I warmly expressed my gratitude. 
 
 " An hour ago I considered that the time had not yet arrived, when 
 you were entitled to demand my confidence," continued Mr. Hartley ; 
 '' I have now given you the strongest pledge of my personal regard ; 
 and you have a claim upon my unlimited confidence, which shall be 
 freely admitted. We dine at sis ; and afterwards you shall know 
 some pai-ticulars of the story of a man, whose very existence none, 
 save yourself and this loved child, suspect. Little did you imagine 
 that, in the stern monitor who blamed your follies, a kinsman was cau- 
 tioning an unschooled novice against those seductions of vicious society 
 which so often wreck the happiness of youth. None could have taught 
 the lesson better than himself. He had erred and paid the penalty — 
 and a life of peril, suffering, and disappointment, has scarcely redeemed 
 the obloquy and disgrace which his earlier indiscretions had brought 
 upon a name, which, but for his offendings, should have been second 
 to none in Britain. Hector O'Halloran, you stand in the presence of 
 one, who, tempted, ruined, and rejected by all, became a castaway and 
 an exile — I am Edward Cliftbrd." 
 
 Was I dreaming — or was it a reality, that the man who had exer- 
 cised such mysterious influence over my thoughts and actions, was 
 closely united to me by the bond of blood — my mother's brother — my 
 grandsire's heir — but, dearer tie than all — the father of Isidora ! My 
 brain was in a whirl, when Dominique unclosed the door to announce 
 that two persons were below, and anxious to see me. I informed my 
 uncle — for that relationship with him I shall claim for the future — 
 that the strangers were my deliverers ; and in a few minutes after 
 Isidora had retired, my foster-brother and the honest ratcatcher were 
 formally introduced. 
 
 Of the Irish relationship that existed between me and Mark 
 Antony O'Toole my uncle was already apprised, and he received the 
 fosterer accordingly as if he had been an old acquaintance ; but, 
 touching the private history of Shemus Rhua, we were both as yet in 
 blissful ignorance. All we knew was, that in the hour of danger, he 
 had proved himself a jewel above price; but that he had arrayed 
 himself in arms against the house of Hanover, eased Tim Maley of his 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 207 
 
 purse, bled an old woman, or ferretted a rat, were interesting passages 
 in the eaptain's life which we had yet to learn. Neither of my 
 friends looked to the best advantage. The ratcatcher, in the roohawn 
 of the preceding evening, had been favoured with a black eye — and 
 the fosterer came out of action minus a skirt, with the addition of an 
 awkward fracture in his unmentionables. Both had the appearance of 
 gentlemen who had been recently in trouble, and from their '- sJnich* 
 look," had they presented themselves as bail, it is doubtful whether a 
 fastidious justice of the peace would have accepted either, without 
 instituting a slight inquiry into their "whereabouts" and general effects. 
 I believe the meeting of last night was, on both sides, a fortunate 
 occurrence. Never did man receive succour when he needed it more 
 opportunely than I ; while the fosterer and his friend had already expe- 
 rienced some difficulty in struggling against an exhausted treasury and 
 wardrobe. A hberal present from Mr. Hartley (for that name must 
 be for the present retained) placed the finances of the twain oncemore 
 in a flourishing condition. I supplied the fosterer with an outfit for his 
 outer man ; the captain made a judicious selection from a fashionable 
 emporium in the vicinity of Monmouth Street ; and in a couple of 
 hours, a happy change in both had been effected, and their persons 
 were gay as their hearts. 
 
 The morning wore away. No tidings from the gipsy had arrived ; 
 and Mr. Hartley and myself had just come to a conclusion that some- 
 thinor had chan2:ed her intention of sending me a dispatch, and that it 
 was unnecessary to wait longer at home ni expectation of the promised 
 billet. The fosterer and captain had returned from their morning's 
 excursion ; and Mr. Hartley, having heard their adventure at Mr. 
 Spicer's on the preceding evening, was considering the best method 
 in which that information could be employed to discover who might be 
 the conspirators against my life. He was listening a second time to a 
 narrative of their imprisonment in the lumber-room, where Mark 
 Antony had ensconced himself to avoid the ire of an elderly gentle- 
 man, who, like Mr. Spicer, had " not loved wisely, but too well," when 
 the negro entered the drawing-room, and handed me a sealed letter, 
 whose folding and address bore evident appearance of carelessness. 
 I unclosed it hastily — the private mark annexed announcing that the 
 gipsy was the writer. The contents were these : 
 
 '* "Well may it be said that the ways of Providence are inscrutable : 
 for vengeance so sudden as to pass belief, has fallen on those who last 
 night endeavoured to effect your destruction. Come to the Green 
 Man immediately." There you will see those who employed, and those 
 who undertook to murder you. Notice nothing which may occur; 
 and appear to take no more interest in passing events, than any stranger 
 in the room. Follow me when I leave the house, and let your friend 
 accompany you. Fail not ! " 
 
 '' We shall punctually attend the lady's invitation," said Mi". Hartley, 
 as he perused the scroll for the second time, " and we will.also take that 
 henchman of yours and his companion with us." 
 * Anylk^ — shaken, or shabby. 
 
208 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Accordiiiprly, tliese useful allies were dispatched, ■vvitli proper direc- 
 tions to find the place appointed ; and in half an hour, Mr. Hartley 
 and I started in the same direction. 
 
 On arriving at our destination, -we found the street was crowded, 
 and intense anxiety was visible in tlie countenances of a very nume- 
 rous collection of idle people, to whom every act of atrocity gives 
 interest. Indeed, it had been found necessary to close the tavern 
 doors against all, excepting those who might professionally or profit- 
 ably claim a right of entrance. The appearance of my uncle and 
 myself, however, secured admission, and v,-e M'cre conducted into a 
 spacious club-room, which had been selected wherein to hold the 
 necessary inquest on a murdered man. A crown, judiciously applied, 
 obtained convenient seats immediately beside the defunct lawyer and 
 the persons suspected of his murder ; and the fosterer and his com- 
 panion had standing room assigned them, behind the chairs with Vt'hicli 
 we had been graciously accommodated. 
 
 That spacious room had witnessed many an hour of revelry. With 
 the dance, the song, the laugh, and every outbreak of " tipsy jollity," 
 its walls for years had been familiarized. The present was a different 
 scene. It was an inquisition for "blood spilt" by man; and the 
 victim and his slaughterers were placed in the immediate presence of 
 each other. 
 
 The deceased remained in the same state as when he had been dis- 
 covered in the morning, and even the position in which the body had 
 been found was scrupulously preserved. No doubt existed as to the 
 cause of death, for the skull was extensively fractured, and 2^ost 
 mortem appearances evinced that unnecessary violence had been em- 
 ployed ; for any of half-a-dozen injuries inflicted on their victim by 
 the murderers would have proved mortal. The features were pain- 
 fully distorted ; and the passing agonies of the departed man had been 
 severe. Not an article of value was found upon the corpse ; the 
 pockets were turned out, and showed that robbery had succeeded 
 murder. 
 
 From the dead my eyes turned to the living. Five men were 
 seated on a form, and behind each individual a man of peculiar 
 appearance stood, whom Mr. Hartley told me in a whisper, be 
 longed to a celebrated community long since extinct — Bow Sti'eet 
 runners. On the persons who occupied the bench the gaze of all 
 within the room was concentrated, and I examined them, from right 
 to left, attentively. 
 
 The first was genteelly dressed, and his general appearance was 
 superior to that of his companions. His exterior exhibited tokens cf 
 vulgar opulence ; and watch, and brcoch, and ring, all valuable, told 
 that had he been criminal, the plea of poverty could not be used in 
 extenuation. 
 
 Beside him a man was seated, whose dress was shabby and general 
 appearance disgusting. His head was swathed in a bloody handker- 
 chief ; and it was announced that, in a murderous affray on the pre- 
 ceding night, his jaw-bone had been severely fractured. 
 
 The third was a blackguard of ordinary stamp ; but the fourth and 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 200 
 
 fifth, Mark Antony and his companion at once recognised as old 
 acquaintances. 
 
 " By the hole In my coat!" said the ratcatcher, in a whisper, "I 
 would swear to that dacent couple in a thousand. That critch * without 
 any carcase, good nor bad, and the dark-muzzled scoundrel beside 
 him — more betoken, I think it was himself, the murderin' thief, that 
 giv me the black eye." 
 
 I looked at the scoundrels, with whose appeai'ances the reader is 
 already familiar. Gi'acious God ! was I so nearly hurried from 
 existence by the bludgeon of that truculent-looking Jew, or the knife 
 of that contemptible liunchback ? But my thoughts were speedily 
 turned into another channel. The coroner took his place ; the jury 
 were empannelled ; and the inquest formally commenced. 
 
 It would be unnecessary to trespass upon the reader's patience, and 
 narrate in detail every particular attendant on a mercenary murder. 
 The money intended to procure my d<?ath, by a singular accident, 
 caused the assassination of the guilty wretch who had been the hired 
 agent to eftect it. In the remote place, and at the untimely horn- 
 when Sloman met a doom he merited too well, it was supposed that 
 the foul deed would have been effected in full security. Guilt plots 
 cunningly, but a higher influence mars the best-laid schemes. An 
 outcast, without a I'oof to cover her, had crept for shelter into a 
 dilapidated building, and, unseen and undiscovered, overheard the 
 iuurderers arrange their plans. She saw them waylay the devoted 
 wretch, knock him on the head, and afterwards, by the light of a dark- 
 lantern, plunder the dead body. When they retired, she followed 
 unperceived, and traced them into the dwelling of their employe!'. 
 She acquainted the Bow Street myrmidons of the transaction ; led 
 them first, to the place where the murdered man was found, and after- 
 wards, to the house where she knew the ruffians had been harboured. 
 
 It is a singular fact, that the most cautious villains rarely escape 
 surprise. The hunchback, excited by the adventures of that busy 
 night, had drunk more deeply than was his custom. His weakly 
 constitution soon owned the effect of liquor; and, in his confusion, he left 
 the street-door open, although, in drunken wisdom, he fancied that he 
 had effectually secured it. By that neglect, the officers obtained an easy 
 entrance — and the mui'derers were seized " red-handed," and in the 
 very act of dividing the plunder of their late employer. The facts 
 v*-ere already strong against the whole of the accused ; but the hunch- 
 back's confession rendered the guilt of his confederates past a doubt. 
 He became king's evidence ; and the wounded bravo, whose fractured 
 jaw had prevented him from sharing in the murder, corroborated 
 the testimony of the thing of legs and arms. Mr. Brown, and " the 
 ruffians twain," whom he had employed to cause a vacancy in the 
 
 twenty th, by ridding the world of me, were fully committed — 
 
 as I heard afterwards on the Peninsula, in course of law, were tried, 
 found guilty, and suffered a felon death. 
 
 We watched the proceedings at the inquest, which occupied several 
 liuurs, Avith an interest that can be readily imagined. uVlthough the 
 * Anglicc — a hunchback. 
 P 
 
210 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 perpetration of a greater crime had thrown the attempt upon my life 
 into the background, and steps were no longer required, either to secure 
 my safety or bring to punishment tliose who had endangered it, 
 still the cause of the assault upon me was so incomprehensible, that 
 both my uncle and nivself were anxious to trace the conspiracy to its 
 source. Nothing during the inquiry transpired that in any way ap- 
 peai-ed to be connected with me ; and, faithless to her promise, the 
 gipsy had not attended. Although the room was crowded by a mob 
 of the curious of either sex, had she been in the throng, from the 
 singularity of her costume I should have easily recognised my myste- 
 rious acquaintance. The proceedings having ended, the jury were 
 discharged, the prisoners removed, and the crowd dispersed rapidly. 
 
 " Come, Hector," said Mr. Hartley, " the lady of the bridge, like 
 others of her sex, is not always to be depended on. Where can that 
 mysterious gentlewoman be ?" 
 
 " At your elbow," responded a voice. 
 
 We started, and looked round. A woman, respectably attired, but 
 ■whose features were partially hidden by a close bonnet that seemed 
 formed to conceal the face, was standing immediately beside us. Could 
 this be that wild wanderer who had accosted me in the park, and met 
 me on the bridge when all but the outcasts of society wei-e at home ? 
 I had no time left for closer examination — she tapped me gently on 
 the shoulder — and, in a low voice, desiring me to follow, she mingled 
 in the crowd. Mr. Hartley and I quietly obeyed the signal ; while 
 Mark Antony and the ratcatcher joined the rabble in the street, who 
 were waiting to offer some unenviable tokens of the estimation in 
 which Mr. Brown and his associates were holden, before they took a 
 final departure for durance vile. 
 
 We kept the gipsy well in sight, and observed her turning into 
 ■another public-house at no great distance from the Green Man. We 
 entered it, and were conducted by the barmaid to a back apartment, 
 where we found the fair one seated. 
 
 The latter term is not used unadvisedly ; for a finer woman, of a 
 certain age, could not have been found in the metropolis. Nothing of 
 her former wild and sybil-looking air remained — the eye had lost its 
 keen and searching glance — the voice was softened — the very manner 
 seemed altered with the dress ; and when she laid aside her bonnet, 
 Mr. Hartley and I freely admitted that the face disclosed to us had 
 ■once been positively beautiful. When the door was shut, she turned her 
 dark intelligent eyes on mine, and regarded me in silence for a minute. 
 
 " Yes !" she said ; " how striking is the likeness between the son and 
 fire ! and wliat painful recollections does that singular resemblance 
 bring back I ay, though twenty long years of exile have passed 
 away ! But no more of this. Mr. 6'HaUoran, you see before you 
 one who can hardly say whether she should love or hate the name. 
 Time chills the deadliest enmities; and even jealousy and blighted 
 hopes will own its soothing influence ; and I, who should look upon 
 you as an enemy, felt in your recent hour of trial all the agonizing 
 uncertainty a mother only "knows, when the child of her first affections 
 is exposed to peril. With my early story, and wayward fate, it would 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 211 
 
 be idle to detain you. None Iiave ])assGd througli greater vicissitudes 
 of fortune ; none have sinned or sutfered more than Mary IlaUigan !" 
 
 I started. " That name's familiar ! — Were you the peasant 
 girl-" 
 
 '•' Through whose mistake Knockloftie, and all within its walls, were 
 saved from violence and murder ; I am that person. Ay, fallen, as 
 I may now appear, I was innocent, admii-ed, wooed, won, and deserted! 
 Pshaw ! — 'tis but a common tale in woman's history ! No matter — 
 'tis past — it seems a dream ; but, O God, it is a fearful one ! I have 
 not, however, come here to speak about myself. I come to tender my 
 poor services to the child — for, from the bottom of the heart of her 
 he wronged, the father is forgiven ! Wild as my career has been, 
 used as I have been to startling occurrences, still, the events of the 
 last few days appear to me rather the coinage of a distempered brain, 
 than actual realities. Never did Heaven's anger fall so suddenly and 
 severely on the guilty ; and never Avas the innocent so miraculously 
 preserved. Strange, that the same day on which a life commenced, 
 should have been twice chosen to end it by secret violence ! — and 
 stranger yet, that the same hand, which in infancy designed to crush 
 you in the cradle, in the veiy hour of manhood, but for Heaven's mercy, 
 would have consigned you to a bloody grave !" 
 
 " "Who was the intended murderer?" we both eagerly demanded. 
 
 " He was one Avhose name is perfectly famiUar to you. Did you 
 ever hear the colonel speak of a person named Hacket ? " 
 
 " A hundred times. He Avas the villain that would have betrayed 
 the old castle and its inmates to a band of murderers. They assailed 
 it on the first anniversary of my birth-night, and were bloodily repulsed. 
 I often have heard my father execrate that scoundrel's treachery. 
 Another perished by his hand — " 
 
 " Stop I name him not. There were in the world two beings whom 
 I regarded with divided love. One perished. Would that it had 
 been by any other hand. I have forgotten — no, that were impos- 
 sible — but I strive to banish from memory all that occurred upon that 
 fatal night." 
 
 '•' Then Hacket was the person who devised and attempted my 
 murder ? " I exclaimed. 
 
 " No — another sought your life. He was but the agent of 
 that person." 
 
 " By whom, then, was the wretch employed?" 
 
 " Of that I am utterly uninformed ; and, strange as it may appear, 
 Hacket was left in equal ignorance. If any knew the secret, it was 
 the murdered man — and with him it rests. Have you no suspicions ? 
 Have you crossed the path of love, or barred the road to wealth ? 
 Are there any whose interests you have thwarted ? Are you an 
 object of hatred or of fear ?" 
 
 I shook my head ; but Mr. Hartley replied to the inquiiy. 
 
 " There are, Mary — and more than one, the dearest objects of whose 
 hearts this youth will one day overturn, as the child throws down 
 the card edifice in a moment, wliicli has cost him a world of pains to 
 build." 
 
 r2 
 
212 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 '•Look there, Hector O'Halloran ! There will your secret enemy 
 be found." 
 
 " Right, by heaven ! You are on the sure track, my friend," 
 returned my uncle. " Where will deadlier feeling harbour than in 
 llie bosom of a monk, thwart but his ambition ? or in that of a sordid 
 t^coundrel, who trembles for wealth acquired by knavery ? Were you 
 acquainted with recent occurrences in which our young friend has 
 been connected, my life upon it, your conviction would be confirmed 
 as to the quarter from which the danger came." 
 
 " And am I not worthy of that confidence ? " inquired the gipsy, in 
 a tone that showed herself offended. 
 
 " Undoubtedl}'," returned Mr. Hartley. " One day more, and I 
 will give you ample proof of the dependence I place in your fidelity 
 and discretion. That day I would devote to my young friend. It is 
 the last he will pass in England for a time." 
 
 " Wliat ! is he then leaving England ?" 
 
 " He is ordered to the Peninsula, and sails on Thursday evening." 
 
 " Heaven send him better luck than his father ! God knoAvs 
 v/hether you and 1 shall ever meet again ! " she said, addressing me. 
 " May the best fortunes of a soldier be yours ! Farewell ! I saw your 
 first and your twentieth, and may your next be a happier anniversary 
 than either ! " 
 
 She wrung my hand. I left the room, but Mr. Hartley remained, 
 and a quarter of an hour passed before he joined me in the street. 
 We walked to the hotel, and there the fosterer and his companion 
 were in waiting. 
 
 " Mark, I am ordered off. What can I do for you before I leave 
 England ? " I said, addressing the former. 
 
 Mr. O'Toole merely answered with a sigh " hot as a furnace." 
 
 " Where shall I find you on my return ? and how will you dispose 
 of yourself in the mean time ? " 
 
 " Dispose of myself ?" returned the fosterer, like an echo. " Why, 
 am I not also, ready for the Peninsula ; ' Arrah ! Avliat would they say 
 at Killucan, if you went to the wai'S, Master Hector, and I remained 
 at home ? Mona-sin-dioid, if I went back, the very dogs would not 
 acknowledge me. But, love apart, where can I put in a happier 
 twelvemonth ? Have I not listened, till my heart beat again, to the 
 old colonel's talking to the priest about the time when he stormed that 
 village in the Low Countries Avhere he lost his arm. Often have I 
 fancied that I saw him bursting through the streets at the head of his 
 noble grenadiers, scattering the French column like a flock of sheep, 
 while the shout of 'Liberty' was answered by a thundering ' Faugh o. 
 hullagli!^ It would be cruel, Hector, to leave me behind you — I will 
 be no burden to you." 
 
 He placed a little packet in my hand ; and turning to the window, 
 the poor fosterer sentimentalized in secret, while I perused a letter he 
 had received after Ave had separated at the inquest. With the course 
 of Mark Antony's love adventures, that gentle affair with Miss Biddy 
 O'Dwyer excepted, I was altogether ignorant — and I felt interest in 
 the fosterer's epistle. I read it accordingly ; and, could woman rise in 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 21;! 
 
 the estimation of one who loved as I did, that artless letter would have 
 raised her. 
 
 '•' You have followed me to England. In that you have violated 
 our agreement ; but my heai-t offers a ready apology for the ottence. 
 I told you that twelve months must pass before we met again ; and in 
 that resolution I am confirmed. My brother has wildly ventured to 
 the coast of Spain, on secret service connected with some of the 
 guerilla chiefs in Arragon ; and, in the mean time, I am resident in 
 the family of the 'tallage clergyman. Mark, I am happy, because I 
 am once more respectable. Let me remain until the year elapses 
 under this good man's dwelling — and then that wanderer whom you 
 protected in her hour of destitution, will prove to you that she has not 
 forgotten her deliverer. 
 
 ^' Do you remember, dear Mark, that when you rescued me from 
 that villain Jew, you flung your purse into my lap, and pressed me to 
 accept it ? If that circumstance has escaped your memory, it lives, 
 and will ever live, in mine. Use prudently the small sum enclosed : 
 and when another supply is needed, remember that the desolate female 
 whom you generously saved from more than death, has now the means, 
 and wish to prove her gratitude," 
 
 The epistle contained sincere expressions of affection, and was 
 subscribed " Julia." 
 
 " AVhy, Mark, what the deuce is all this about ? and who is this 
 lady, wlio forks out her fifty pounds, and subscribes herself " most 
 affectionately yours ? " 
 
 " I'll tell you again. Master Hector. But won't you let me go 
 with you ?" 
 
 " Faith, my dear Mark, I never intended that you should remain 
 behind. Have we not been to each other as flint to steel from child- 
 hood ? Where should I now be but for your rescue ? AViien boys, 
 our joys and sorrows were the same ; and now, as men, Mark, upward::- 
 or downwards, our fortunes shall run together." 
 
 " I thought you wouldn't leave me," said the fosterer. 
 
 '• And pray," inquired the ratcatcher, " what the divil is to become 
 of me ? You can volunteer, Mark, but I am too old ; and were I 
 younger, I wouldn't much like to 'list ; for I fancy that the guerilla 
 line would be more in my way of business. But let us all go together. 
 Blessings on that nate-spoken elderly gentleman they call Mr. Hartley I 
 He's short in the grain as cat's hair, but the heart and purse are open. 
 Here I am, new rigged from head to foot — ay, and rich as a Jew — 
 bad luck to the whole community of them, root and branch ! " and the 
 captain put his finger to the eye which had been damaged in the last 
 night's contest. " It was that long-Avhiskered ruffin that giv me this 
 token of regard. "Well, all's settled, and we go together, any how." 
 
 It would have been useless to offer any objection to the deter- 
 mination of the gallant captain ; and, after a consultation with my 
 uncle, it was soon agreed that my fosterer should join one of the 
 regiments of the brigade I was attached to, as a volunteer, and the 
 ratcatcher enact valet de chamhre during my absence. 
 
211 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Time pressed. Mr. O'Toole gratefully acknowledged, but returned 
 the fifty pounds sent him by his mistress ; swore fidelity and ever- 
 lasting love anew ; and by the munificence of Mr. Hartley, we all — to 
 wit, the i-atcatcher, the fosterer, and myself — were amply provided 
 with that indispensable requisite for opening a campaign, pro- 
 perly designated " the sinews of war." ]My future companions took 
 their departure for the Seven Dials, to bid their loving countrymen, 
 there dwelling, an affectionate farewell. An Irish parting is always 
 accompanied by a heavy drink, as sorrow is proverbially dry. No 
 doubt the symposium, like every other pleasant carouse, ended in 
 a general engagement ; for when the twain honoured me with a visit 
 next morning, I remarked that the gallant captain had been accommo- 
 ilated with a second black eye, probably conferred upon him as a keep- 
 sake by one his agreeable companions. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 " Blmch. Now shall I see thy love ; what motive may 
 Be stronger with thee than the name of v/ife ? 
 
 Const, That wiilch uphoideth him that thee upholds, 
 His honour !" 
 
 « S= * * * -X- 
 
 " I know thee well; 
 
 But in Ihy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 I NEVER sate out a more melancholy dinner than that with Jlr. 
 Hartley and his daughter on tlie last evening of my sojourn in the 
 metropolis. Mine honoured uncle was gloomy and abstracted. 
 Isidora looked the very image of despair ; and I felt any thing but 
 martial satisfaction at the immediate certainty of having an early op- 
 portunity afforded of " fleshing my maiden sword." Like the courage 
 of Bob Acres, my military ardour was hourly evaporating from my 
 finger-ends. A month since, the prospect of being shot at Avas a 
 matter of indifference ; but in that brief space my feelings had under- 
 gone a marvellous change. From childhood, I had listened to my 
 father's stories as he " told how fields were won," and caught the 
 enthusiasm of a man, every inch a soldier. But then I knew not 
 what it was to love — I had not felt the witchery that attends a first 
 attachment — the confession of mutual passion as yet had not fallen 
 my ear, soft as angels' whispers to sleeping infancy. I had loved, and 
 sued, and was accepted ; and now this sweetest dream of life was to 
 be broken ; and from one dearer than all that earth contained, I Avas 
 to be separated for a long period — ^perhaps for ever ! I came rapidly 
 
HECTOR o'HALLORAN. 215 
 
 to the conclusion, that glory was well enough in its way ; but still it 
 was an awkward business to have to seek it at the other side of the 
 Pyrenees ; and, had it pleased Heaven to bring about a general paci- 
 fication, I think that I would have borne the disappointment like a 
 philosopher. 
 
 I took no formal leave of my gentle mistress, for that unnecessary 
 infliction of pain Mr. Hartley very properly inhibited. Our parting, 
 as she left the drawing-room for the night, was probably warmer than 
 was customary. She little imagined that I Avas to start at cock-ci'ow 
 for embarkation ; and, in the expectation of meeting me at breakfast, 
 she sought her apartment to court the soft influence of the drowsy 
 god in vain. 
 
 " Hector," said Mr. Hartley, as he addressed me, " I regret that 
 you are at this moment obliged to leave me ; for something tells me 
 that a crisis in our mutual fortunes is approaching. Were it any 
 thing but the call of honour that takes you from England, I would at 
 once ask you to forego it." 
 
 " Believe me, my dear sir, never did a more unwelcome order come 
 than that which I am about to obey ! Could I but honourably 
 decline it," 
 
 " Oh, no — that were impossible ! Wellington has assumed the 
 offensive, and every eye in Britain will watch the progress of his 
 arms. A country's call is sacred, and it must be obeyed. God knows,^ 
 in perihng your safety, and exposing you to the common chances of 
 war, I make a sacrifice that few could estimate. There is one tie that 
 binds me alone to life ; and, save for that alone, the sooner a spirit, 
 soured by misfortunes, and wearied of a world it despises and detests, 
 were freed from this ' mortal coil,' the better. But were I in the grave, 
 who would watch over the happiness of that being whom I idolize ? — 
 To one only would I entrust that holy charge. Need I name him ? — 
 Yourself I " 
 
 I gratefully thanked my uncle for the^proof of confidence he had 
 given, and he thus proceeded: 
 
 " As my life and actions must appear to you involved in mystery 
 and concealment, it will not surprise you much when I tell you, that 
 for years I have been intimately informed of every occurrence that 
 happened in your father's house. A stern necessity of secrecy obliged 
 me to remain unknown and unsuspected. Had I been where I was 
 supposed to be for twenty years — in the grave — I could not have been 
 more removed from the knowledge of the world than I have been ; 
 and the reason I selected that wild and retired abode where you first 
 found us, was to insure the incognito, which your interests and Isidora's 
 demanded ; for, strange as it may appear, from earliest infancy, yon 
 were destined for each other." 
 " You really astonish me, sir !" 
 
 " When you hear my story that surprise will cease. Witli my past 
 life none were even partially acquainted but a beloved chihl and faith- 
 ful servant. You shall know more of that dark and painful history 
 than they ever did ; and when you have heard all that I have suffered 
 and endured, then say whether, but for one endearing tie, a life, 
 
216 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 wretched and valueless as mine, would have been worth retaining 
 for an hour. Fill, Hector — fill freely — many a day may pass before 
 you and I shall meet again ! " 
 
 I obeyed him. Rising from the table, he took a few turns across 
 the apartment ; it seemed an exertion to regain composure; it was 
 successful. lie resumed his seat, emptied his glass to the bottom, 
 and thus commenced, what was to me a narrative of perilous adven- 
 ture, but all-engrossing interest. 
 
 The career of vice is generally a simple history ; a progressive 
 advance from bad to worse, as the feelings deaden and the conscience 
 becomes seared and callous, by degrees. My earlier follies might have 
 been easily arrested by parental intervention, but Mr. Clifibrd was 
 I'eserved and proud ; his displeasure was evinced by frigid mannerism, 
 and his reproofs conveyed in the cold terms of general disapprobation. 
 He never i-easoned to the iinderstanding — never appealed to the heart. 
 I listened to him as I would to a lecture ; and I came away without 
 the slightest impression having been made upon an ardent disposition, 
 which under better management might have been awakened and 
 ix'claimed. 
 
 My ruin at last was consummated. I was discarded by my father ; 
 avoided by the good — deserted by the bad — and, finally, driven from 
 the land, dishonoured and disgraced, where, by inheritance and birth, 
 I should have held a proud position. 
 
 Months had passed since I had been alienated from an angry father. 
 The means by which I had managed, for a time, to obtain the sums of 
 money my extravagance demanded, had been overtaxed, and con- 
 sequently, my resources were completely exhausted. The woman who 
 lured me on to crime and ruin had heartlessly abandoned me, and those 
 who had plundered me of hundreds refused me a shilling to buy bread ! 
 For a whole day I had not tasted food, and for two nights no roof had 
 sheltered me — and without any definite object in my wanderings, I had 
 turned my steps to the home from which I had been long since re- 
 jected. I was ashamed to let any who had known me in the 2)almy 
 days of youtli witness the degradation that crime had caused ; and, 
 after night-fall, avoiding the village, I stole unperceived through a 
 broken paling, and, like a thief and not the heir, entered the grounds 
 of Clifford Hall. 
 
 William Morley had been in boyhood my favourite companion. 
 Although his birth was menial, I treated him, from regard, rather like 
 an equal tlian an inferior. My purse was ever open to his wants ; and 
 my attachment gradually obtained for him the notice of my father. 
 Step by step, he rose in Mr. Clifford's confidence, until he gained an 
 influence over his easy master that nojie besides 2>ossessed. I fancied 
 him a friend ; and I had every reason to suppose him one, for his 
 professions of regard were warm, and his assurances of gratitude un- 
 bounded. "When the kindly relations between my pai'ent and myself 
 
HECTOR o'lIALLORAN. 217 
 
 were first disturbed, I trusted to Moi'lej's good offices to extenuate mv 
 offendings, and soften down the displeasure of an angry father. He 
 promised to exert his influence to the uttermost. I believed him ; 
 followed his advice ; and acted as he counselled. Alas ! I little 
 dreamed that Morley was all the while a deadly enemy, and that he 
 was sapping to the foundation any slight remains of parental aliection, 
 and alienating the father from the child. Why should he thus play 
 me false ? and wherefore wear the mask of friendship, and hate me in 
 his heart ? Unconsciously, I had provoked his deadliest animosity by 
 crossing his path in love. 
 
 Morley was in heart a libertine ; but he had sufficient cunning to 
 conceal it from the world. A village beauty had been the object of 
 his pursuit for months ; and fascinated by her superior attractions, his 
 secret attentions were incessant, and there was no reason to doubt but 
 they would ultimately be rewarded by success. I returned, after a 
 long absence, to the Hall. I heard of Mary Davis. A glowing descrip- 
 tion of her charms was given me. I saw her — report had only done 
 common justice to her beauty — and I became her slave. My atten- 
 tions flattered her pride — and the heir of Cliffi^rd Hall supplanted the 
 sou of a deceased menial. In a word, the weak girl eloped with me — 
 deserted her peaceful home for a brief career of splendid profligacy ; 
 broke her poor mother's heart ; drew down on me the lasting displeasure 
 of ray father ; and rendered Morley my enemy for life. But of the 
 consequence of my misconduct, I remained as yet in ignorance. 
 
 To obtain his revenge, Morley worked secretly and steadily. Every 
 act of imprudence was artfully communicated to my father ; while the 
 treacherous scoundi-el led his confiding master to beheve that he was 
 kindly, but unsuccessfully, endeavouring to hide from him the criminal 
 proceedings of his child. My slightest failings, blazoned by false 
 colouring, appeared enormities. My letters in explanation were sup- 
 pressed ; the breach between us became wider every day ; Morley's 
 demoniac ingenuity at last was crowned with full success ; I was dis- 
 carded — looked upon as one dead — consigned to poverty and degra- 
 dation — and became a beggar and an outcast. 
 
 What was the villain's triumph, when, stealing through the shrub- 
 beries, I sought the well-remembered window of his apartment I Lights 
 were burning, and there sat Morley. He had numerous papers and 
 accounts before him ; bank-notes and gold were spread over the table 
 carelessly ; and a bottle of wine was opened, from which, as I peeped 
 in, he liberally helped himself. Heavens ! how low had I fallen ! — 
 how abject did I feel myself! With me, indeed, the cup of misery 
 was at the overflow. I dreaded to knock I I — the born-heir of all 
 around, fearful to disturb the son of my father's menial ! At last 
 I mustered sufficient resolution to tap gently on the casement. The 
 steward expected a ditferent visitor. He seized his hat, hurried from 
 the room, locked the door carefully, let himself out by a private en- 
 trance, of which he kept a key, and in another minute approached the 
 evergreens to which I had retreated, and softly pronounced a woman's 
 name. 
 
 " Morley !" I timidly x-eplied. 
 
218 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " Ha ! — a man's voice ! — Who's there ?" he demanded. 
 
 " An unfortunate — your old playfellow — he who once was your 
 master's son ! " I answered. 
 
 " Heavens !" he exclaimed. " Is it possible ! And have you dared 
 to venture hither ?" 
 
 " I once thought," I replied dejectedly, "that none would question 
 my right of entrance to'^this domain, which by birth and descent is, or 
 should be, mine. I am indeed fallen ! " 
 
 " What do ye want ? " he demanded, as I fancied, in a haughty tone. 
 " Why have you disturbed me at this unseasonable hour ? " 
 
 " Dire necessity obliged me to come here. I am perishing ; food 
 has not crossed my lips since yesterday. I am without a home, — the 
 humblest shelter would be acceptable." 
 
 " I cannot offer you one. Were it known that I spoke to yov, or 
 gave you the slightest assistance, your father would discharge me." 
 
 " Is his anger, then, so unmitigable ?" I asked in a desponding voice. 
 
 " It is beyond the power of being appeased. Advisedly, he would 
 not breathe the same atmosphere that you did ; and the most welcome 
 tidings he could receive, Avould be those that assured him that you 
 were no more ;" returned the steward. 
 
 " I am starving ! — pennyless ! By Heaven, I will crawl into these 
 evergreens, and die in sight of that mansion Avhich once was destined 
 to be mine." 
 
 Morley started at the declaration. " Pshaw ! " said he, with an 
 appearance of more feeling than before ; " this is mere folly ! Let me 
 see — I dare not afford aught but temporary relief; and in doing so I 
 risk the loss of Mr. Cliffoi'd's favour, were the thing discovered. Stay ; 
 I will bring you some refreshment, and see whether I cannot do some- 
 thing to save you from actual starvation afterwards :" he then 
 returned to the house, and in a few minutes reappeared with the rem- 
 nant of the supper he had eaten, and a portion of the wine I noticed 
 on the table. I ate ravenously — drank to the bottom of the ilask — 
 and then listened to the false scoundrel as he thus continued: — 
 
 " I have a relation in London, who perhaps might enable you to 
 leave the country for a season. It is possible that time might soften 
 your flither's animosit}^, were you removed bej'ond his notice ; and the 
 violence of his resentment might happily cool down. Here. It is a 
 guinea, and some silver ; 'twill carry you to London ; and when you 
 get to town, inquire at the Post Office, and you Avill find an anony- 
 mous letter to give you future directions how to act. To save 
 myself from ruin, requires the greatest caution on my part. Push 
 forward to the next village on the London road ; and when you 
 have reached the metropolis to-morrow, you will be fully instructed 
 what to do. For Heaven's sake, stay not another moment ! — Steal 
 secretly from the park, as you entered it ; and all I can do for you 
 shall be done." He hastily left me, as if in fear ; I heard liim bar the 
 private entrance, and observed him close the shutters of his chamber, 
 while I, in a state of humiliation bordering on insensibility, obeyed 
 the order, and, like a felon, stole out of that domain where, two years 
 previously, my will was absolute. 
 
HECTOR o'HALLORAX. 219 
 
 I slept at a mean public-house ; but what a luxury was a bed to 
 me ! and yet the lowliest servant on my father's establishment woidd 
 have rejected what his fallen child gratefully received ! 
 
 Next morning I put myself on the roof of a coach which in other 
 days I had frequently driven. Neither guard nor coachman remem- 
 bered me. Of course, the vulgar scoundrels had heard of my downf\UI. 
 Well, they only imitated men of better bii-th ! They forgot me when 
 it was convenient 
 
 I entered London. It was the anniversary of a victory, and I 
 remembered it well. Two years before, by a singular coincidence, 
 I had driven in with my own four-in-hand — and as the slang went then, 
 it was " the best appointed drag in England." Mary Davis was on the 
 box. Ah, two years had made a diiference ! I was a pauper on a stage- 
 coach — Mary Davis, a wanderer on the streets ! Vice, with her, poor 
 girl, commenced in luxury, but to both it brought what it generally 
 does — ruin and disgrace I 
 
 The paltry supply that Morley had given was half consumed by my 
 journey; and I sought one of the humblest ho=tleries which London, in 
 its infinity of accommodation, presents. The extent of my degra- 
 dation had nearly stupified me ; but next morning I went to the Post- 
 office to inquire for the promised communication, scarcely caring 
 whether it arrived or not. The stewai'd, however, had been punctual ; 
 and the expected letter was delivered. It was brief— written in a 
 disguised hand— and merely desired me to call at some rascally place 
 in one of the worst localities of the oldest portion of the city. 
 
 I proceeded to find out the street, and with some difficulty suc- 
 ceeded. The person I inquired for was from home, but I was directed 
 to a low pubhc-house in the neighbourhood, and there I found him 
 in company with several blackguard-looking personages. The room 
 reeked with tobacco smoke ; the table was splashed over with spilt 
 liquors ; the ceiling in many places had fallen in ; and the contri- 
 vances to stop the broken casement, and exclude the air, were extra- 
 ordinary. The man I sought took me to an inner closet, called for a 
 stoup of gin, shut the door carefully, and then proceeded to business. 
 
 " You are the gentleman Mr. M. has recommended to me?" said 
 the stranger. 
 
 " I am that unfortunate person." 
 
 " And you want to leave the countiy for a while ? Well, there's 
 no great difficulty in doing that, if a person Avas not very particular 
 about the way he travelled. It's only getting lagged, you know." 
 
 " Lagged ! I don't understand you." 
 
 " Don't ye?" replied my new acquaintance. " Why I'm certain I 
 speak plain English. I mean, if you did not mind transportation, why 
 you could travel at the king's expense. But I see you're raw. ^\ ell, 
 I'll try how far I can oblige the gentleman who takes an interest about 
 ye. Let me see — I have some appointments to keep which will 
 detain me all morning ; but meet me at eight this evening in the 
 Borough," and on the back of an old tavern bill he scrawled, in 
 villanous characters, the place and hour of meeting; told me to be 
 punctual ; di-ank the gin ; desired me to pay for it ; and conducting 
 
220 THE rORTUNES OF 
 
 me to tlie door, left me to weai* tlie wretched day tlirougli iu any way 
 I pleased. 
 
 If I might form any opinion from personal appearance, Morley's 
 friend was every thing but respectable. Well, he was the fitter 
 acquainiance for an outcast like me. I had none better left ; and at 
 the ap[)ointed time I crossed over London Bridge, to seek the place 
 where the interview with the stranger was to take place. 
 
 The house was found. I asked for Mr. Pilch, and was conducted 
 into a private room. He was seated in the corner, with several com- 
 panions round the table. They were gambling when I entered ; but 
 they put away the greasy cards, and then one by one dropped out, 
 leaving IVIorlcy's friend and me together. 
 
 " I think I have arranged this matter to your satisfaction," said he, 
 " and sficui-ed a comfortable passage for you to the States. The 
 vessel wiU sail the beginning of next week, and you will have no time 
 to lose in getting your outfit ready. I have been commissioned by a 
 friend, who shall be nameless, but who you may possibly make a 
 shrewd guess at, to give you what money you may require ;" and, 
 taking out a pocket-book, he haiided me several bank notes. " You 
 will excuse the liberty I take, iu hinting that this money is intended 
 to cover the necessary expenses attendant on a long voyage, and not 
 to be idly wasted ; and therefore I recommend you to secure it well, 
 and use it prudently. What!" he exclaimed, as he perceived me 
 about to put the notes into an outer pocket of my coat ; " do you 
 carry money so loosely on your person ? — in London too, where you 
 cannot enter a tavern or cross a street without encountering a plun- 
 derer ? Come, my young friend, take a lesson from an old and leary 
 cove hke me. Keep but one flimsey out for present purposes, and 
 secure the rest, as I do, in the neckcloth." 
 
 He put his hand across the table and undid my handkerchief, 
 folded the bank notes carefully within it, and then returned it to 
 me. One five-pound note he desired me to put into my purse. My 
 purse ! — many a day had passed since I had needed such a con- 
 veniency. I pocketed the money, and the sti-anger took his leave, 
 appointing, however, another meeting at the same hour and place to- 
 morrow. 
 
 I remained after he was gone musing before the fire. I was asto- 
 nished at Morley's unexpected generosity, and I secretly censured 
 myself for having doubted the attachment of my old playfellow and 
 friend. His bearing towards me on the night of my stolen visit to 
 Clifford Hall v,-as now perfectly accounted for. I thought it, at the 
 moment, cold and heartless. I now perceived that it arose from 
 a caution imposed by stern necessity ; and tlie seci-ecy observed 
 in the manner in which he had conveyed the liberal supply, now con- 
 firmed it. Even to the agent he employed I had been guilty of 
 injustice. It is true, the man Avas neither prepossessing in appeai:- 
 ance, nor polished in address; but the candid manner in which he 
 exhorted me to be prudent, and the care with which he secured my 
 money against accident, all proved a friendly interest in my vrelfare ; 
 and when I left the public-house, I admitted that I had slandered 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 221 
 
 mankind, in imagining that pity for misfortune was banished from 
 human hearts. 
 
 As I quitted the Coach and Horses, I remarked a man drawn up in 
 a corner of the gateway, and standing in a position that intimated he 
 wished to escape my notice. He wore a white hat, and, from rather 
 a remarkable coat, I easily recognised him to be one of tlie men I had 
 disturbed at play, when I entered the back room in search of Mr. 
 Pilch. Well, he might have some private reasons for concealment ; 
 and it was no affair in which I had any interest. I strolled onwards 
 towards London Bridge, and happening to pass the shop of an out- 
 fitter, I stepped in to make some purchases for my voyage. The 
 selection of diiferent articles delayed me half an hour. Once I observed 
 the man with the white hat pass the door ; and again, I detected him 
 peeping through the window. He was probably an idler ; and I con- 
 tinued to purchase what I wanted in the shop. The articles were tied 
 up ; the account written and presented ; I handed the shopman a five- 
 pound note ; he desired me to endorse it. I took the pen, and wrote a 
 fictitious name, as I had determined to drop that on which I had 
 brought so much oblo(iuy and disgrace already. The man handed 
 some change in silver, and I took up the parcel, and left the shop. 
 
 I had nearly reached the extremity of the bridge when I heard 
 footsteps behind, and perceived several men running in the direction in 
 which I was walking. They came up rapidly ; and, in another minute, 
 I was seized, pushed into a shop, and charged with felony. My identity 
 was certain — the parcel confirmed it ; and, to my horror, I heard the 
 captors accuse me of passing a forged note. The charge astounded 
 me ; I could not speak, and my silence was mistaken for a tacit 
 acknowledgment of guilt. 
 
 I turned my eyes in mute despair at the men who surrovmded mc. 
 By Heaven! one of them was the white-hatted stranger, who had been 
 playing at cards with Mr. Pilch ! It was providential, he could cor- 
 roborate the statement I commenced. He had seen me — was a friend 
 of ^Ii". Pilch — his evidence would be invaluable. I told the manner in 
 which the money was obtained. My statement elicited a laugh of 
 derision from the hearers. I appealed to the gentleman in the white 
 hat, but the gentleman in the Avhite hat disclaimed all knowledge of 
 me, and goodnaturedly added, that he fancied he had seen me once 
 before, at a fair he mentioned, in company with a party of the swell 
 mob. I\Iy pockets were searched. Nothing to criminate me further 
 was found. I casually looked round, and saw "White-hat" wink at 
 an oflicer, and point significantly to my handkerchief. It was instantly 
 loosed and opened. My name was worked upon it in the dark hair 
 of my iaithless mistress ; and five other notes were found ; they were 
 examined — and all of them pronounced forgeries ! 
 
 For a minute, I felt as if my heart had ceased its pulsations, but, 
 gradually, I became conscious of the position in which I was placed. 
 None could doubt my guilt. Could any deny that I was a felon ? I, 
 with forged notes concealed upon my person, of which I had uttered 
 one already under a fictitious name. The observations of the crowd 
 
222 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 occasionally reached me. There was no difFerence of opinion as to 
 my destiny — my career would close upon the scaiFold I 
 
 Oh Heaven ! if thoughtless youth could only fancy the agony of soul 
 I felt, how many would be deterred from crime, and saved from ruin ! 
 To die! — to perish in the very opening of my manhood! And how die? 
 Like a dog — stared at by a gaping crowd — ^pitied by some — laughed 
 at by others — choked — hanged ! 
 
 " Never, by Heavens ! " I muttered to myself, — " Never shall a 
 CllfFord, no matter how fallen, die such a felon-death ! The grave is 
 open for me ; what matters it whether it hide me now, or in a brief 
 space after ? Come, man thyself, Edward Clifford, for a last effort— 
 and die!" 
 
 Nothing remained but to convey me before a magistrate for 
 committal. 
 
 The crowd retired ; the officers took me away in custody. My 
 passive conduct throughout, led them to set me down a heartless wretch, 
 with whom hope was at an end ; and mine seemed 
 
 " The composure of settled despair," 
 which enables the criminal to meet his doom in sullen apathy. How 
 little they suspected the dark thoughts which then occupied my mind, 
 or the deadly purpose which I meditated ! 
 
 An old watchman held my collar in his feeble grasp, and two or 
 three others surrounded me. The mob kept generally in advance of 
 us, to enable them to frecptently indulge their curiosity Avith a view of 
 the criminal. Before we had moved a dozen paces, I made a sudden 
 spring, shook off the man who held me, overturned another in my rear, 
 and started off, at headlong speed, to gain the bridge which was imme- 
 diately contiguous. 
 
 A wild outcry announced my escape ; an instant pursuit succeeded. 
 The mob were the only persons I had to fear ; for the old men who 
 watched the city then, wrapped in their great coats, and encumbered 
 with poles and lanterns, were incapable of rapid movements. Several 
 persons, however, kept me well in sight ; they little knew that death, 
 and not deliverance, was Avhat I aimed at ; and they raised a cry to 
 warn the passengers who were approaching in the opposite direction. 
 I saw several men draw themselves across the bridge to bar my farther 
 progress. I stopped, leaped upon the balustrade — " Seize him !" cried 
 a dozen voices — they were the last words I heard — I muttered one brief 
 adjuration to Heaven to pardon the act I was about to commit, closed 
 my eyes, sprang from the battlement, and the waters closed over me !" 
 
 Mr. Clifford paused. His usual stern composure was unequal to 
 conquer the agitation which the terrible recollections of early impru- 
 dence had brought back. A short silence was unbroken, when suddenlj^ 
 the door unclosed, and the dark functionary presented himself, and 
 handed me a letter of most unprepossessing appearance. He announced 
 that the messenger would not leave without an answer — and ill-timed 
 as the interruption was, my uncle signalled me to break the wafer. 
 I obeyed, and communicated to him the contents of the following 
 singular epistle : — 
 
HECTOR OIIALLORAN. 223 
 
 '•' For Capfain Heciur O'Haleran, esquare, or Mister Hartlay, 
 if he's out. 
 
 '• HoxERED Sir, — 
 
 " i am sorraj too inform ye we are in Trubbel and at Present 
 imdii' the Skrew in the "NVatchouse they call "VYatlin Street, and all 
 Contrarey to sense and Justis. "\Ve went into a dacint-lookin' 
 house, with a "Woman without a head for the sign of it, and cald for 
 half a pint, and sat down fair and asey at the fire, when in corns 
 three Blaksrards. Immadately they begins to rig us. ' Mon-a, Pat,' 
 says one of them. ' Devil a worse guess ye iver med, young man,' 
 sars I. 'Arrahl' says he, 'Does ye'r mother know your out?' 
 ' What the blazes have ye to say to my mother ?' says I. ' What a 
 hole you could make in a fauce{:)an of patatays the night she was mar- 
 ried ! ' says he ; and then he goes on aggravatiu' us, and abusin' the old 
 country, swarin' Saint Patrick wasn't a reglar saint at all, and not 
 fit to powder Saint Gorge's wig, af he wore one. ' Oh ! by the groves 
 of Blarney,' says Mr. O'Toole, 'the divil wouldn't stand thisi' so he 
 offs wid the coat, and offered to box the biggest of the lot for thirtj- 
 shillins. WeU, they agrees to it at wonse, and Mark and the big 'un 
 set-to. Sorra handier boy iver it was my luck to meet with ! he made 
 nothin' of the chap — a couple of rounds settled his hash, and he 
 gives in. Well, what does they do ? insted of comin' down with the 
 battel money, they charges us on the watch, and we were bunddled off 
 here, as if we were a pair of Pickpockets. We sends off to the Dials 
 to say we were in trubbel, and before half an hour, there was the full 
 of the street of dacent acquaintances. Some wanted to give bail, others 
 offered to pull down the watchouse ; and an honest man, whose father 
 came from Ballyhawnis, went off to knock up the Priest, and get him 
 to write us a Carakter. The divil a one of the bailsmen the constable 
 would touch with the tongs ; and so here we remain, snug and warm 
 in the Black hole, unless your honir will bee plased to get us off. 
 
 " I Remain, till Death, yoiu' Obediant Servint, 
 
 " James McGrale." 
 
 " Poscrip. — There's a Poor woman here, the lord Pity her, callid 
 Finigen. I forget her own name, but she has a Brother that lives 
 under magor Blake, and her unkel was parish priest of Carintubber, a 
 Man grately respected. I often heerd my father spake about him — 
 as he cured the Fallin' siknis with a charm, and plaid butifully on the 
 Fiddel. Well, she's in quod, the crater, for just Nothing at all. She 
 had words with a vagabone that lives in the back Attick, and he in- 
 sinevated, in the Presens of the hole lodgers, that she wasn't aney 
 better than she ought to be. ' Misses Finigen,' says he, ' might I 
 fatague ye for a sqint at ye'r Marrige lines, if ye happen to have sich 
 an article in ye'r pocket,' which ye know was as much as sayiu', the 
 Divil a certifikit she had at all. The crature couldn't but resint it, 
 and she took the fire out of the vagabone's left eye wid a brass Candel- 
 
224 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 stik slic had in her fist — and that's all she's loked up for. IMaybe 
 your honir would Include her in the Bail — the lord sees it would be 
 Chai-atey." 
 
 " N. B. — I forgot to Say the Blakgards offered to make it up fur 
 ten shillins, half in di'ink, and half in money — but it's such an Impisi- 
 shin, that nather mark or jMe would listin to it." 
 
 " P. S. — For the sake of the blessed Mother cum soon, or they'll 
 have the Roof off the "Watchouse, and then We'll be Transportid for 
 life. The more I see of this Unsivilized Country, the Better plased I 
 am that we're lavin it. 
 
 " No more at Presint from 
 
 " Yours to Command, 
 
 " J. McGkalk." 
 
 '' " Plase answir by Return of post — I mane by the boy wid the red 
 hair that carries this. Remembir Mr. O'Toole and me to Mister 
 hartlay and his Daughtii', onley we don't know her name. Also to 
 mister domnik, the Black gentleman, whose as Civil and well manerd 
 as a Christian, for all that he's so dusky in the skin. 
 
 '' J. M." 
 
 " In Heaven's name," I exclaimed, when I finished the ratcatcher's 
 epistle, " what is to be done with these scoundrels ?" 
 
 " Perhaps the better course to be pursued would be to leave them 
 Avhere they are, allow their excellent friends to pull down the watch- 
 house, and then the^Government Avill provide for them in New Holland. 
 But I suppose we must interfere for once in their behalf." 
 
 The landlord of the hotel was summoned, and requested to effect 
 the deliverance of the prisoners, a task that was easily performed. 
 The door again was shut, and Mr. Clifford resumed his melancholy 
 narrative. 
 
HECTOR O HALLOKAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 MY UNCLE S STORY. 
 
 " The 'tvaters heave around me ; and on high 
 The winds lift up their voices. I depart 
 Whither I kncr not ; but the hour's gone by 
 When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad my eye." 
 
 Byron. 
 
 I CANNOT clesci'ibe the sensations I felt, momentary as they were, 
 while descending from the balustrade of London Bridge ; but from the 
 instant I struck the suriace of the water, all recollection ceases. A 
 considerable time elapsed before consciousness returned, and when it 
 did, I found myself in the cabin of a Welsh coasting vessel, with a 
 woman, her husband, and their son, (the owners and crew of the little 
 schooner,) chafing my limbs, and using every simple means of resus- 
 citation which their scanty resources could supply. Nothing could 
 exceed the pleasure these true Samaritans evinced, Avhen they perceived 
 that their eiforts had proved successful. They had no suspicion that 
 he, the object of their care, had been hounded like a felon to do the 
 desperate deed he had attempted ; but, from the occasional remarks 
 I overheard, they set me down as some desponding wretcli, who, from 
 very v/eariness of living, had rashly ventured on that fearful remedy, 
 hateful alike to God and man — self-murder. 
 
 "When perfectly restored, they made a bed for me before the fire, 
 administered some spirits with caution, left me to my repose, and I 
 sank into a profound sleep, which continued until morning. When 
 I awoke, I found that my kind preservers, overnight, had dried my 
 wet clothes ; my breakfast was already prepared — and when I had 
 eaten it, at my request they rowed me ashore in their small skiif, and 
 landed me at Tower Stairs, with three shillings in my pocket, and not 
 a friend upon the earth. 
 
 I entered a low tavern — a house of call for seamen — and seated 
 myself in the most obscure corner of the dark and smoky tap-rcora. 
 Several men v.-ere round the fire with pipes, and pewter measures, and 
 to the latter they frequently appUed ; while others were sleeping on the 
 benches, like men after a debauch. They were evidently sailors, but 
 they had not the free and honest look and bearing which generally 
 distinguishes that careless and warm-hearted class of men. Their dark 
 and weather-beaten faces were those of men habitually drunken, and 
 indicated service in tropic climes— while, from their air and manner, 
 you would pronounce them, at first sight, to be lawless men— bold 
 and reckless ruflians. 
 
 " I say. Bob, wasn't that job last night upon the bridge a funny 
 one ?" said a swarthy fellow to an equally ill-looking companion. 
 
 Q 
 
22G THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 The latter removed his pipe, knoc-ked the r.slies out upon the table, 
 replenished it from a seal-ckin pouch -with fresh tobacco, and then 
 leisurely replied : — 
 
 " It was, Jim ; I have tipped them leg-bail in my time, but the 
 chap last night gave them, -what I call'^, river security ;" and he 
 laughed hoarsely at his own wit. 
 
 " Well," observed the first speaker, " I likes a plucky cove ; he 
 wouldn't let them have the satisfaction of hanging him ; and that jump 
 in the dark robbed them as planted him, of blood-money— ay, and 
 sarved them right, I say." 
 
 " You may depend on it, Col:), he was a green 'uu. Ko doubt a first 
 offence ; otherwise he would have taken chance of flaws and failures at 
 the Old Bailey ; for it was only scragging after all." 
 
 " Have tliey found the body yet, I '\vonder ? I'd like to know 
 whether it was any of our pals, Jim ?" 
 
 " He's sure to float the ninth day — he won't lie longer at the bottom. 
 They won't go to the trouble of draggin' for him, will they. Bob r" 
 
 " They'll drag to little purpose," I muttered from the corner. ' 
 
 The fellovv's turned round and looked at me. 
 
 " And what is there about that dead-un's carcass that a creeper 
 should not grip it ? Let me see — how was the tide ? — it was slack 
 water at the time. I'll bet a dollar he's not lower down than Lime- 
 house." 
 
 ." I'll wager twice the sum he's not half so far," I answered, with 
 desperate composure. 
 
 " And where do ye say he is ?" asked the fellow, with a stare. 
 
 " Here ! — in this room !— seated on this chair I — and talking to you 
 at thio moment !" 
 
 '• Well !" exclaimed the sailor, '• if that ain't a rum confession. 
 I never knev/ in my born days, a man that passed forged flimsies split 
 upon himself before." 
 
 '• Kor would I, had I done so -I am innocent." 
 
 Both ruffians laughed. 
 
 ^- I said the same thing myself once," said the darker fellow of the 
 twain, " and I could not out of twelve men, good and true, get a 
 single soul to believe the story." 
 
 A couple of the sleepers wakened up. One of them stretched him- 
 self, yawned, and inquired, like a person still half asleep, " What's all 
 tliat' gammon about innocence, forged notes, and blood-money?" 
 
 " Why, Captain, this here cove is the chap who jumped off the 
 bridge ; and as he's innocent, I suppose he'll go quietly to them he 
 .bolted from last niglit, and get hanged to prove it." 
 • '' More fool he,''^ observed the man whom they called captain. " Had 
 I taken that plan to convince the world of my honesty, 1 should have 
 been, ten years ago, dangling among the scare-crows that ornament 
 Dogs' Island. Let's hear your story, youngster ; you have told too little, 
 or too much— enough to hang you twice over — so out with the remain- 
 der; Ave'rc men of "honour; though, if we swore it, the world would 
 hardly credit it." 
 
 I had no motive to court concealment ; to me, life and death were 
 
 
%■■■ 
 
HECTOR OHALLOKAN. 227 
 
 equally indifferent. The funner portion of my liistory I kept to 
 
 myself, but freely narrated the villanous conspiracy of ; , and his 
 
 agents, to fix a charge of felony upon me first, and bring me to an 
 ignominious end afterwards. 
 
 " I never heard of a plant better laid and executed," said the 
 captain, as I finished the detail of my last night's adventures, " Never 
 v.-as man booked safer for the gallows ; you had a close escape. "Well, 
 < touch and go' is good pilotage, they say — I'll tell you what to do. 
 I sail for the coast of Guinea this evening ; we're short-handed ; it's 
 a voyage that's not much fancied, and I can't persuade men enough 
 to ship. They give a cowardly preference to low wages, and no fever; 
 but you have no choice between that and hemp, you know. If it's 
 in you, Joe Barton is the man to make a sailor of you— AVhat say 
 
 ye?" 
 
 " That I embrace your oner cheerfully." 
 
 Mr. Barton extended his hand, and, with the hold of a vice, grasped 
 mine. Then pulling from his pea-coat pocket a canvass bag filled 
 witli dollars, he counted thirty down, and shoved them across the table. 
 
 " There's two months' wages in advance. It's a toss-up that you're 
 dead in half the time. No matter ; I will run the cliance — go with Bob 
 there — he'll take you to a slop-seller, who'll fit you out in no time. 
 He'll not refuse to join in a stoup afterwards. Don't object ; it may 
 be the last either of you will take in England. Be on board, drunk or 
 sober, at eight ; and now be oif, for I have some matters to attend 
 to." 
 
 I obeyed the mandate of my new commander, purchased some 
 clothing fitted for the sultry climate I was about to visit, joined the 
 vessel before the appointed hour, sailed* at midnight, and biule a long 
 • — I prayed an eternal — adieu to England. 
 
 We reached the Downs, having cleared the river safely ; and there, 
 I might add, that the good fortune of our voyage terminated. Could 
 auglit better be expected ? No ; the errand and the agents w^ere infamous 
 alike. We were bound to Africa to trade in human fiesli, although, 
 professedly, we had left England to bring home hard-woods, ivory, 
 and gold-dust. But no honest trading was intended ; we w^ent out 
 regularly prepared to perpetrate the worst cruelty that savage man 
 can fancy when he contemplates deeds of crime — prey on the being 
 that wore God's image — violate every bond of nature, and sever the. 
 ties which common humanity holds dearest ! Speak of the slave-dealer 
 and the highwayman ! Pshaw I compare them not. 
 
 When I said, that after we lost sight of the shores of England, 
 or.r fortunes proved indifferent, the statement must be qualified. 
 In the first object of the voyage w-e were successful, and carried, in 
 comparative safety, a full cargo of slaves to their destination ; that is, 
 we managed to land alive two-thirds of tlie wretches we had kid- 
 napped. "We brought eternal misery with us, and left endless wretch- 
 edness behind. But already the vengeance of God was upon us — 
 fever accompanied our accursed ship ; and, one by one, the villain- 
 crew which originally left England died off, and greater villains — were 
 that possible — supplied the places of the departed. 
 
 Q 2 
 
2:28 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 The hour of retribution vras at hand — the decre^i had gone fortli — 
 and vengeance was impending on the guilty. AVe i-eturned to " the 
 coast" — as tliat of Africa, in particuhir, was termed — shipped a full 
 complement of slaves, and once more proceeded on our iniquitous 
 voyage. During ten days we made good progress. The captain 
 and liis hellish crew, elated with apparent success, indulged in ruffian 
 revelry. They drank, and danced, and sung ; and while despair and 
 death reigned in the crowded hold, the deck presented a saturnalia 
 that fiends might have delighted to share. 
 
 But on tlic eleventh day that vnihallowed revelry ended. The wind 
 dropped suddenly — ominously. In one short hoiu* not a ripple was 
 seen upon the sea ; and, far as the eye could range, a burning surface 
 of bright blue vrater encircled us. The nest sun — the next — and yet 
 the next, rose and sank, and not a breeze was felt, and not a cat's-paw 
 crept over the distant ocean. Ten more passed ; and still we drifted 
 idly on the glassy surface, like some sea-bird reposing on the deep. 
 Food failed us fast — that was bad ; water rapidly diminished — that was 
 worse. The hold became a pest-house. Contagion below produced an 
 increase of fever above. The negroes died off by twenties ; the crew, 
 one after another, disappeared, till, of thirty-six seamen who left the 
 Gambia, fourteen alone remained ; while half of that small nund)er 
 were so debilitated that they could scarcely stand ; and the few who 
 still remained effective, were quite unequal to that disgusting duty, 
 of disencumbering the waist of the human carrion Avhich every 
 hour accumulated. All hope to carry any portion of the accursed 
 cargo to its destination was over. The dead putrified ; the living, 
 maddened by thirst and hunger, had broken their chains, and, like 
 rabid animals, could not be approached ! One only coiu'se remained, 
 and the ruffian-crew determined to batten down the hatches, fire 
 brimstone underneath the slave-deck, destroy what life remained, and 
 make the pest — a charnel-house ! 
 
 Kight was properly chosen for the execution of this diabolical act; 
 and I saw the combustibles which were to effi^ct it duly prepared. 
 To witness this wholesale murder of two hundred victims was more 
 than I could bear. I, who had ever revolted from the horrid vocation 
 of a slave-dealer, fancied, that in all which had bcMlen us, I saw the 
 vengeance of the Deity let loose on our accursed bark ; and when at 
 midnight I was placed at the wheel, and my villanous companions 
 were occupied in murderous preparations, from the davits I lowered 
 the only boat could swim, slipped over the ship's counter unob- 
 served, and paddled quietly away. In a few minutes I was called 
 for — my evasion was detected — a dozen muskets were discharged 
 after me at random ; I heard bullets dip upon the water : but I plied 
 my oars Aigorously, and in a few minutes was out of range. 
 
 I paused, took breath, and looked around. The ship lay in 
 shade, looming immensely ; all else sea — sea — sea ! I searched my 
 pockets, and found two biscuits ; but I was without water ! Under a 
 tropic sun, a thousand miles from land — no water! The very thought 
 was enough to madden one ; but, presently, other feelings banished 
 that horrible conviction. 
 
.S!:>- mk.^^ .. . lA^^: 
 
 y^/^. r X^.^'-^^ ■ ^^y^ 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 229 
 
 My eyes were turned to-\vards the slaver. Before this, I knew that 
 the infernal deed mu-t have been consununated, and that, to protract 
 the lives of some dozen guilty wretches, two hundred innocent victims 
 had been immolated I A feeble gleam twinkled from the vessel ; it 
 faded into darkness ; and a dull mass, shapeless and colourless, showed 
 me the spot, where, upon the waveless ocean the felon-ship lay sleeping. 
 I looked again. Suddenly, a blaze, as if some inflammable matter had 
 been ignited, burst from the slaver and dispelled the darkness. The 
 outline of tlie vessel became distinct ; the flame waxed stronger still ; 
 every rope and sail was visible; and I could perceive figures on the 
 deck, rush to and fro, as if in wild disorder. The glare grew redder 
 yet — the ship was in a blaze from stem to stern— and in their nefa- 
 rious attempt to suffocate their victims, the villains fired the vessel! 
 
 I turned the boat's head towai-ds the burning ship ; and after rowing 
 a short distance back, rested on my oars. I knew that if I attempted 
 to near the vessel, the skiff would be overcrowded, and all must perish. 
 Shrieks, wild and maddening, like those of despairing men, were 
 heard — every inch of canvas which had hung dangling from the 
 yards, was wrapped in fire, and the loftiest spars vv-ere burning I It 
 was a grand, but terrible spectacle ; and I strained my eyes to gaze 
 upon it until the red glare pained them. At once, a column of bril- 
 liant light mounted to the skies, followed by a heavy, dull, concussion, 
 which came trembling over the water, and rocked my little skiff. A 
 cloud of smoke succeeded. Suddenly the light vanished ; darkness 
 returned denser than before — night and stillness resumed their silent 
 reign. The magazine had exploded — and the slaver was now buried 
 in the depths of ocean ! 
 
 In tropic climes, night is but a name, and morning broke imme- 
 diately. I gazed over the ocean expanse, as the first glow of sunshine 
 reddened its surface, bright and unruffled as a mirror, excepting one 
 small spot ahead, which was covered with floating wreck. There, the 
 slaver had gone down, and I looked fixedly in that direction. On a 
 scathed beam, I fancied I could perceive a human form attached. 
 I rowed to the place. To the half-burned portion of the wreck, a fine 
 negro lad was holding with desperate tenacity ; but he was nearly 
 exhausted, and it was with much difficulty I could drag him into the 
 boat. In a fev,- minutes he vras sufficiently recovered to know that 
 I had rescued him from death, and with looks of mute intelligence he 
 seemed to thank me for timely succour. I gave him a biscuit ; he 
 seized and ate it ravenously. Ko wonder, poor boy ! for five long 
 days, food had not passed his lips. "With expressive signs he inti- 
 mated that he would hereafter consider himself my slave ; and by looks 
 of encouragement, in return, I assured him of protection. It was a 
 simple conU-act after all, and made under unusual circumstances; 
 but it has lasted, and will last, for life. That negro youth was 
 Dominique. 
 
 Before I had time to smile at the mockery of a forlorn wretch like 
 myself, assuming a momentary superiority over another cast-a-way, 
 saved mercilessly from an easier death to perish by the more dread- 
 ful agonies of thirst and hunger, a light air came stealing over 
 
230 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 the glassy sea. I looked anxiously to ■windward. Far oiT, a bre.?ze 
 darkened the bine water, and in ten minutes we I'elt its infiuenc, and 
 our boat danced merrily on the tiny waves which curled the ocean i\\v 
 as sight could wander. I felt as if Heaven had been appeased, and 
 vengeance satisfied ; and hope once more replaced the dark despon- 
 dency to which I had abandoned myself, as one whose doom was 
 sealed. 
 
 Nor was that cheerful foreboding unfulfilled. Within an hour, and 
 dead to windward, a speck appeared upon the edge of the horizon, and 
 seemed, by slow degrees, to rise gradually from the ocean, until a 
 goodly ship presented itself to the eye ; and dov/n she came before a 
 leading breeze, Avith all the canvas set her spars could spread. "Wc 
 lay directly in her course. I hoisted a signal on an oar, and it was 
 seen and answered — for presently tlie stranger took in sail, lowered a 
 boat, sent it to our assistance, and " I and my man Friday," as worthy 
 Robinson would say, were kindly received on board a vessel that proved 
 to be a Portuguese trader, bound for the Brazils. My story was readily 
 believed, namely, that our ship, an honest merchantman ! had acci- 
 dentally caught fire, and all except the negro and myself had perislicd. 
 No doubt could be entertained of the correctness of this statement, for 
 our deliverers had seen the blaze, and heard tl;e explosion, -when 
 becalmed, at too great distance to render us relief. 
 
 I was landed safely in Rio Janeiro, and another epoch in an e^^-entful 
 life began. The history of seven years would require too much time to 
 give it in detail — it must be confined to a brief suramar3\ The owner 
 of the vessel that had picked me up was a mei'chant of high respect- 
 ability. The tale of my escape from a burning ship and idtimate star- 
 vation, had interest, and, pitying my destitution, he offered me a berth 
 in a coasting vessel which belonged to him — I accepted it, and in a fcAV 
 months became its captain. I traded for liim honestly and success- 
 fully, and rose by degrees I'apidly in his estimation. Every year brought 
 me fresh tokens of his confidence and esteem, until at last, I became a 
 partner in his business. In every commercial adventure fortune 
 befriended us ; and wlien the old man died, and the affairs of his house 
 were finally arranged, I, who had landed on the wharf of Rio without 
 a second shirt, found myself a mercliant of repute, and possessor of 
 thirty thousand dollars. I must add, that I had assumed the name of 
 Hartley, and that, during this season of good fortune, my faithful 
 negro shared and enjoyed that period of treacherous sunshine. 
 
 And yet, during this prosperous career, I v>'as secretly unhappy. 
 Year after year, the English residents returned with the independence 
 they had acquired, to die in the land which gave them birth. To me, as 
 I bade them an eternal farewell, every departure caused fresh misery, 
 and probed to the very quick a wound tliat none suspected vras rank- 
 ling in my breast. 1 had no country. What was father-land to me ? 
 I, a degraded outcast — stigmatized with crime, believed to be a felon 
 and a suicide ; and from the memory of whose existence, my very 
 father, if living, would recoil. And yet the ftmcy of returning to 
 England haunted me. I thought of it — dreamed of it— till at last, 
 imable to combat the inclination, I determined, at every hazard, to 
 
HECTOR o'hALLOIIAN. 231 
 
 inaulge the wish, aiul revisit the " laud of my sire?," were it hut to 
 die there. 
 
 I made the necessary preparations to effect my design— converted 
 my propei-ty into specie— secured a passage for myself and laithful 
 follower in a. vessel honnd for England, which, with several other?, 
 were to start under convoy of a sloop of war. We sailed on the 
 appointed day ; and, as I then believed, bade an eternal forewell to the 
 shores of South America. 
 
 "WTiat was my motive for returning to a land where my name was a 
 disgrace, and where he whose feelings towards the offendings of a child 
 are'lenient, a father — ay, a tather — would repudiate me with contempt? 
 It was to cleanse that name, stained as it was with youthful indiscretions, 
 from the plague-spot that human villany had attached to it ; and now 
 with the command of the means by which justice in England can _he.-:t 
 be secured — money — wipe away the felon cliarge which had driven 
 me undeservedly into exile and disgrace, and expose the guilty to the 
 ^vorld — ay, though the last guinea of a fortune, which years of toil, 
 and danger, and privations, had acquired, should be expended to attain 
 the end. 
 
 For a week our little fleet progressed steadily across the ocean. 
 Old merchantmen were then the duUest sailors imaginable ; and with 
 every inch of canvass we could spread, the sloop of war, with topsails 
 on the cap, was frequently obliged to heave to and wait upon our lazy 
 bai-que\ Indeed, the vigilance of the convoy-ship was rendered neces- 
 sary from the circumstance of a very suspicious vessel having^ been 
 discovered for several successive mornings at sunrise, following in the 
 wake of the fleet, and hauling off whenever she observed that she had 
 been noticed. 
 
 On the sixth evening, the weather, which had liitherto been remark- 
 ably fine, threatened a change ; and at midnight, the wind had co:> 
 siderably fre.-hened. The se^curity of the ship would have pointed out 
 the prudence of making preparations for a gale, and putting the vessel 
 under easy canvass ; while, from the didness of our sailing, and the 
 certainty that a suspicious stranger was in our immediate vicinity, 
 it was absolutely necessary that w-e should keep onr place in tlie 
 fleet, and avail ourselves of the man-of-war's protection. In tins 
 dilemma it was determined to trust to fortune, and " carry on." Via 
 had certainlv, tv,'o dangerous alternatives to choose between — threaten- 
 ing Aveather, and an enemy's privateer. The latter fear was pre- 
 dominant ; and- although every minute skyey appearance became 
 more alarming, we still kppt a press of canvass on the vessel— and 
 consequently, it was our fate to verify an old saw, in avoiding Scyll:!, 
 to fall into Charybdis. 
 
 In the darkness, a squall struck us suddenly ; and Ifcfore every thing 
 could be let fly, our three topmasts were over the side, and our worst 
 apprehensions were about to be realized. 
 
 It w\as but a passing gale which had wrought us all this mischief ; n?id 
 when morning dawned, the weather had moderated into a light and steady 
 breeze. The fle^t was out of sight; and we were unable, from the 
 weakness of the crew, to clear away at once the wreck of fallen spars 
 
232 THE FORTUNES CF 
 
 and sails that cumbered us. We were lying a log upon the water, while 
 our more fortunate companions were bowling away before a wind 
 directly in their favour. One sail only was in sight, and that was 
 steering in the same direction with the convoy. For a time, from 
 being dismasted, we were not discovered by the stranger. But 
 suddenly he changed his course, hauled closely to the wind, and soon 
 presented to our startled view, the same long, black, suspicious-looking 
 brig, which for days before had occasioned a general uneasiness. 
 
 We had no chance of escape, even had our spars been standing ; 
 and in an hour the suspected vessel was within musquet range. Ko 
 doubt of his country and calling remained. A French ensign vras fly- 
 ing at his peak — his long dark hull showed eleven ports a side — his 
 decks Avere crowded, and he looked a regular rover. 
 
 Had we a wish to resist, the means were Avanting ; and at the first 
 hail, a boat was lowered, and our captain Avent on board. In return, 
 two boats, filled with armed men, roAved to us from the privateer ; tlie 
 rovers mounted our decks, and the Avork of plunder commenced busil}-. 
 I had no hope from the first, that ray property could by any possibility 
 escape detection ; and a very fsAv minutes put that question at rest. 
 A foreign seaman, Avliom we had shipped at Rio, gave information to 
 the prize-master; and I had the misery to see the acquisition of an enter- 
 prizing life pass into the possession of the sea-robbers Avho had cap- 
 tured us. 
 
 From the disabled condition of the ship, all design of taking her 
 into port Avas abandoned by our captors ; ])ut every thing that Avas port- 
 able, even to the sea-chests of the crcAv, was removed on board the 
 brig. The Avhole day Avas consumed in stripping our luckless vessel ; 
 and Avhen at nightfall the enemy left us lying still a Avreck upon the 
 ocean, I found myself in the same condition as when, seven years 
 before, I had lauded on the beach at Eio — v/ithout a second shirt, a . 
 second dollar, or a second friend. Of the latter, I possessed a faithful 
 one — Dominique remained. He had resisted every inducement held 
 out by the French captain to join the privateer. Poor lliithful fellow ! 
 Avhen the fickle goddess smiled, he had shared my fortune ; and adver- 
 sity had no other eifect than to confirm his devoted attachment. 
 
 When the spoilers had taken their departure, nothing but lamenta- 
 tions Avere heard. The humblest mariner had lost his all, the Avages 
 he had already earned, or the little venture he was bringing home 
 to England, in the honest hopes of realizing enough to render a Avife 
 or parent comfortable. There Avas but one of that ship's company 
 preserved a sullen indifference ; I, Avho had been stripped of more 
 than all together, kept a moody silence, and uttered no complaint. All 
 Avas gone at "one fell sAvoop" — the prospect of revisiting my native 
 land — the hope of clearing my calumniated character from the unmerited 
 obloquy Avhich designing villains had heaped upon it — the means by 
 Avhich I expected to have effected it— of all, one luckless day had 
 robbed me ! The stupid calmness of despair tied my' tongue, and 
 gave to my countenance an unearthly composure, Avhich many might 
 haA-e mistaken for philosophic resignation. But the bosom Avitliin Avas 
 tortured — my sorroAV Avas too great for language to convey ; and, 
 
HECTOR OlIALLORAX. 233 
 
 thunuerstruck with the sudden visitation I had undergone, I was 
 debating Avhether it were not at once better to end an existence 
 not to be endured, and — " unannealed and unlbrgiven," in defiance of 
 his canon against self-murder, — venture desperately into the presence 
 of an angry God. 
 
 These impious thoughts were mercifully terminated. I looked 
 up, an eye was bent on mine. It was Dominique's ; and the mute 
 expression of that faithful negro spoke its deep sjmpathy for my 
 misfortune, and intimated an eternal attachment. A sudden revulsion 
 of intent succeeded the promptings of despair. I had lost wealth — 
 but had I not a friend? A stern determination came over me to live 
 and dare Fortune's worst ; and when my dark follower placed silently 
 a goblet in my hand, I drank the wine to the bottom, and swore no 
 matter how darkly fate might frown, she should not crush my spirit. 
 
 " All's gone, Dominique. "We have no errand now to England." 
 
 The negro ansAvered with a groan. 
 
 " Shall "\ve commence life anew, and again seek fortune in each 
 other's company ? " 
 
 Tlie hand I stretched out the negro pressed to his lips respectfully ; 
 and Avith a meaning look, told me that we should sink or rise together. 
 
 The plunder of the ship was followed by a scene of drunken insub- 
 ordination — for the bad example which the captain set, the crew had 
 fullawed ; and on the second evening we were still a wreck upon the 
 water, ohr top-gear over the sides, and none in temper or condition 
 to repair the damage vre had sustained, and replace our lost spars with 
 jurymasts. On the third morning the ship's company had become 
 sufficiently sober to commence a work, that should have been long 
 before effected — and I was sleeping in my cabin, worn out Avith the 
 mental suffering I had undergone, Avhen my slumbers were gently 
 broken by my sable attendant, to acquaint me that another, and an 
 equally dishonest looking vessel, Avas bearing down upon us fast, 
 and barely a league to AvindAvard. 
 
 I hurried upon deck, and a glance confirmed Dominique's announce- 
 ment. The stranger Avas a large topsail-schooner, Avith raking masts, 
 a long black hull, and Spanish ensign floating from her gaff"-end. 
 Her sailing properties Avere admirable ; and her Avhole appeai'ance told 
 that she Avas neither adapted for, nor employed in peaceful commerce. 
 When she rounded to under our stern, I counted nine ports aside — a 
 huge pivot gun Avas on a traverse between her masts, and her decks 
 seemed full of men. She could not be mistaken for a moment ; she was 
 a rover, a slaver, or a privateer, and, proljably, all by turns. 
 
 An old adage* says, that a traveller already disencumbered of his 
 property, feels little uneasiness in presence of a higliAvayman ; and 
 certainly, to me the appearance of this rakish schooner Avas a matter 
 of perfect indifference. I saw her back her topsail, and take a 
 position tliat placed us "end-on," under the fire of her starboard guns. 
 Immediately a boat Avas loAvered, and tAventy men pulled I'rom her side 
 and boarded us. This second visitation, and Avithin eight-and-forty 
 
 * Cantabit vacuus coram latroce viator. 
 
234- THE rORTUNES OF 
 
 liours, caused but Utile sensation in tlie ship. All that was valuahle 
 was already gone ; and the new comei's must he men of uncommon 
 industry and research, if they could discover much that was worth 
 removal. Indeed, the style in which the Frenchman had cleared every 
 thing away worth notice, could never he surpassed, and proved that 
 in sea robbery his crew had attained perfection. 
 
 Sad was tlieir disappointment, when our new captors found that they 
 had fiillen in with a mere bone from which the marrow had been 
 carefully extracted. Still, however, there were some necessaries that 
 might prove useful ; and sails, cordage, water and provisions, were 
 unceremoniously conveyed on board the schooner. Presently, a 
 second boat pushed oif from the rover's side ; and it was notified that 
 the captain, in person, was coming on board to ascertain how a prize 
 so promising should prove so very unproductive. 
 
 " What a cursed misfortune," said he, in reply to the account his 
 first officer gave him of our having been thoroughly plundered, and 
 that only twenty hours before. " By Heaven, I am half inclined to 
 make sail after the pri^•ateer, and make him divide or disgorge the 
 booty." 
 
 " 'Twere idle," said the lieutenant ; " ITeaven knows wh.at course 
 he's steering. And even if v^'c overtook him, what certainty have we 
 that lie would not be able to hold his own with us ? They say he 
 carried twenty guns, and was chokeful of men. He'll dodge the convoy 
 while he dare, and trust to accident for a second God-send. No, no — 
 it was a cursed chance, no doubt — the luck was all John Crapo's — and 
 no use crying over spilt milk, you know." 
 
 The reasoning of his lieutenant appeared to satisfy his superior, 
 that the misfortune he had sustained in coming upon us after the 
 Frenchman's visit was irretrievable, and, accordingly, he submitted to 
 it like a christian man ; but still he could not avoid making an occa- 
 sional lament over what he termed " the blackest of bad luck." 
 
 " Thirty thousand dollars — hard silver — all one property — besides 
 other most valuable plunder. "Was ever ship so unfortunate ! But who 
 was the unlucky devil who lo>t the money ? Did he drown himself at 
 once, or is he still on board ? " 
 
 The lieutenant pointed quietly to me ; and the captain crossed the 
 deck to the place where I was standing, with my arm leaning on the 
 bulwark, as if nothing particular had occurred. 
 
 " So, Sir, I hear you have been cleaned out ; and, as tliey tell me, 
 to a tolerable tune ?" 
 
 "I have," I answei-ed; ''can you put me in the v/ay of recovering 
 the loss?" 
 
 " I !" said the stranger in surprise ; " how the devil should I ?" 
 
 " Then, as I am already })lucked to tlic last feather, your honest 
 companions liave nothing to deprive me of, and you can neither serve 
 nor injure me. Is not that a comfort, captain ?" 
 
 " Come, my good sir," replied the rover, " you need not be so 
 snappish ; though, 'pon my soul, the loss of thirty thousand dollars is 
 nothing to joke about. But stop ; have I ever seen that face before ?" 
 
 " That question you can best resolve yourself," I ansvrcrcd ; " yours 
 
HECTOR IIALLORAX. 2^5 
 
 has been soon by me, I fancy, for the first time ; anu, let me add, 
 ■worthy captain, I sincerely hope for the last one too." 
 
 " Indeed 1 would it be too much trouble to ask you to look at it a 
 second time ? " 
 
 I complied carelessly with the captain's wisli, and examined the 
 features and figure of this new intruder. The face was swarthy, sun- 
 burnt, and had, what the Irish happily term, "a devil-may-care" 
 expression. The person of the stranger was square and well-com- 
 pacted ; his dress was composed of cotton and nanqnin — textures best 
 suited to the climate. In the silken sash Avhich bound his waist, he had 
 secured a watch, a dagger, and a brace of pistols ; all apparently very 
 valuable. He wore a jewel on his finger ; diamond rings in either ear, 
 and a gold-laced hat, fit for a vice-admiral, completed liis showy and 
 singular costume. He was a very young man, apparently not more 
 than five-and-twenty. 
 
 " And pray, Mr.' Jones, or Mr. Thompson, or by whatever name 
 besides you called yourself in the Fancy, six years ago upon the coast, 
 now that you have finished your survey, may I inquire if you can yet 
 recollect an old companion ?" 
 
 I started. He had mentioned the slaver's name correctly, and also 
 the false appellation by which I was known on board that accursed 
 vessel, 
 
 " I have heard of that slave-ship," I replied ; " she foundered at 
 sea, and none escaped but — " 
 
 " You and myself," responded the stranger carelessly. 
 
 " You labour under a mistake , she perished by fire, and none 
 escaped — 
 
 "But you; and how you managed it I don't know. As for me, 
 I gave leg-bail in the Gambia. Come, Jones, Thompson, Robinson, 
 or any thing you please to call yourself, fear nothing from me. I owe 
 you a debt of gratitude, I shipped myself in that villanous slaver, 
 a runaway-apprentice ; and, when struck down by fevei', and dying of 
 thirst upon my passage out, the only hand in all that rascally ship's 
 company, to Avhom I was indebted for a drink of water to slake my 
 burning thirst, was your's ; and now, seven years after, I survive to 
 prove to you that kindness to a destitute boy has not been, and shall 
 not be forgotten," 
 
 " It seems you know me," I replied; " and concealment would be idle. 
 It is, indeed, too true that all on board the slaver perished, save that 
 negro who attends me, and myself," 
 
 " Ay," said the rover ; " but you may recollect that a boy was 
 missing the night before you sailed, I was that lost one ; and, from 
 weariness of a miserable life, and disgust at the horrible duty imposed 
 upon me, of attending to the slave-hold, every feeling had revoked. 
 I bolted from the vessel ; escaped a fate that none survived but you ; 
 passed through a thousand hair-breadth adventures ; and now command 
 the Flambeau — the sweetest schooner that ever spread canvass to a 
 breeze. Come, I hear you have lost every thing again but life ; try 
 your luck once more with Captain Raleigh ; and rest assured, that he 
 who succoured the fevered boy, shall secure the friendship of the com- 
 
23G THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 mander of the Flambeau, — a craft by some called a privateer, and by 
 others set down — may Heaven forgive them ! — as nothing better tlian 
 a pirate ! " 
 
 I listened to the rover's invitation. There was much that Avould 
 induce a man, circumstanced as I was, to accept it ; I seemed a being 
 marked out for misfortune — for whom no happiness was predestined, 
 and one, for whom fate had reserved the phials of her wrath. Captain 
 Ilaleigh marked my hesitation. 
 
 " Come," said he, " time presses. You brought me, and for little 
 advantage, I regret, out of my course this morning, and I must regain 
 it speedily. You are, as far as I am concerned, a free agent. Come 
 with me — you wiU be welcome ; stay where you are — a hundi'ed 
 dollars are at your service, to begin the world anew, and the best 
 wishes of the runaway apprentice you nursed on his passage to the 
 Gambia. I'll rejoin you in five minutes — a time sufficiently long for 
 a, man to come to a decision, as well as if he di'eamcd over it_ for a 
 twelvemonth." 
 
 He turned, walked to another part of the vessel, and gave orders to 
 his crew to man their boats, and prepare for returning to the schooner. 
 
 Dominique had been a silent, but a most attentive observer of ray 
 tete-a-tete with Captain Raleigh, and I beckoned him to approach. 
 
 '• The hour for parting has arrived, Dominique, Avhich, three days 
 since, neither you nor I could ha^'e anticipated ; but so fiite wills it. 
 A new and perilous career lies before me, the ocean surface must be 
 my home, and its deeps shall furnish me a grave. England, the land 
 of freedom, is your happier destination. Go, my tried and trusty 
 friend ; follow some one of brighter fortunes than him you leave ; and 
 may your future f:"ite be what your attachment and fidelity to me 
 so richly merit !" 
 
 The negro did not speak for a few moments — tears fell f;\st upon the 
 deck — at last, he turned a look of mild inquiry upon my face, and, in 
 a l)roken voice, asked " in Avhat he had offended me." 
 
 I was assuring my sable follower how truly I estimated his woi'th, 
 and how deeply I felt the necessity that should deprive me of his 
 services, when Captain Ealeigh joined us. He held a, bag of dollars 
 in his hand. " Here — catch," he cried, as he tossed the money to me. 
 "And now, 'to be or not to be, ay, that's the question.' There's 
 Shakespeare for you. Confound the bard of Avon ; 'twas he that 
 made ,a rover of me ; and but for Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, 
 I, Harry Jones, had never been Captain Ealeigh, but probably, 
 at this blessed hour, a thriving citizen on Ludgate Hill, slicing off 
 lutestring for a dowager, or assuring some pretty girl how beau- 
 tifully the last new ribbon harmonized with the colour of her hair. 
 Heigh-ho ! I might have been happier. Happier ! pshaw ! nonsense. 
 Yard and shears are only fit for woman's hand ; this is the tool for 
 man's" — and he touched the hilt of his cutlass. " But what's tlie 
 matter Avith your dark companion ? Has he, too, lost some dollars by 
 the accursed visit of the Frenchman?" 
 
 " I have lost more — far more," replied the blaclc, " the preserver of 
 my life — the master whom for seven years I followed — my friend — 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 237 
 
 my benefactor— him have I lost. He tells me that I must leave him — 
 leave one from -whom I thought death alone should separate me." 
 
 " And will you follow his fortunes, and take your chance on board 
 the schooner ?" 
 
 "Follow him!" exclaimed the negro; "oh, were that allowed, 
 Dominique would be too happy." 
 
 ' " Give me that honest fist of yours," returned the rover. " Xo 
 matter what the colour of the skin may be ; the heart's the thing for 
 me. Well, you'll take your chance, and seek new fortunes in the 
 Flambeau?" he continued, addressing me. 
 
 " I have no other choice," was my reply. 
 
 "Come, you have no luggage to remove, I fancy; John Crapo 
 saved you that trouble. Jump in ; the boat is ready." 
 
 I followed this new director of my destiny ; and the whale-boat 
 quitted the vessel's side, where, but three short days ago, I was owner 
 of thirty thousand dollars, to commence a roving life — a career of 
 criminal adventure — its close— at best an ocean grave — or, v.'hat was 
 likeUer far, the plank,* the yard-ai-m, or the gibbet. 
 
 I shall pass over an epoch of three years, the crowded history of which 
 was more than enough to fill the story of a life. Would you know 
 it ? ask in every vSpanish port, from Chili to Panama, what was the 
 Flambeau, and who were her commanders ? They will tell you, that 
 that pirate barque, though for years resting in the caves of the 
 Atlantic, still carries terror in her name. They will say, that Ealeigh 
 was daring,' rash, and sanguinary; but that, with the audacious courage 
 of the boldest buccaneer, Ramirez was merciful ; and that the blood of 
 innocence or old age had never stained his hand. Who Ealeigh was 
 you know ; who Eamirez — you may fancy. 
 
 A year had passed since Ealeigh had perished in a wild descent 
 upon the Spanish Main ; and Ramirez, his successor, had assumed a 
 command for which his daring and good-fortune had quahfied him pre- 
 eminently. Much Avealth had been acquired; and it was believed 
 that the Eover Captain had transmitted large remittances, in specie 
 and valuables, to Europe. In one of the secret inlets with which the 
 Caribees abound, the Flambeau had been refitted, provisioned, and 
 made ready for a fresh adventure. The crew were all on board, 
 and nothing delayed the schooner's sailing, but the unaccountable 
 absence of her commander. A week before he had set out for a 
 distant town, to meet a secret agent. The business was speedily trans- 
 acted, and Eamirez had left the city he had visited, to rejoin the 
 Rover's crew. Day after day passed; the worst suspicions were 
 entertained — it was believed that he had been assassinated ; and a deep 
 gloom spread over the whole of the lav.-less community, who justly 
 regarded Eamirez as the ablest commander that ever trod a rover's deck. 
 Many conjectures v,'ere hazarded ; three days elai)sed, when a canoe 
 paddled one evening on board the Flambeau, and delivered a letter 
 addressed to the second in command, in the well-known hand-writing of 
 the captain. In that epistle the mystery was cleared away ; wonder 
 succeeded apprehension ; and wishes so often and so warmly breathed 
 * A piratical method of drowning. 
 
238 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 by the rover's crew for tlie safety of their leader, were exchanged for 
 iini)recations on his head, and deadly vows of everlasting vengeance ; 
 and one, Avho was an hour before the idol of that lawless band, would 
 have found in every individual who composed it, a willing executioner'. 
 
 What could have caused this singular change of feeling ? 
 
 In the letter addressed by Ramirez to his lieutenant, he stated that 
 he had determined to abandon a roving life for ever, and assured him 
 that every attempt to ascertain his motives, or discover his retreat, 
 would be equally unavailing. The investment of valuable property on 
 the general account of the predatory community had been faithfully 
 executed. He promised that every secret connected v/ith his late con- 
 federates should be buried in his grave — and the eternal silence of his 
 black companion might be equally confided in. The letter concluded 
 with the warmest wishes for their future welfare — with a strong en- 
 treaty that they should abandon a dangerous career, which, no matter 
 how long fortune smiled upon it, must inevitably incur an ignominious 
 termination. 
 
 Mr. Hartley paused, and took from his pocket a small sealed packet, 
 carefully tied up. 
 
 " Hector," said he, addressing me, " the remainder of my sad 
 history would be as painful for me to narrate, as you to listen to. In 
 these detached papers you will tind my chequered and adventurous 
 career faithfully outlined. At intervals, ' lev*' and far between,' when 
 I could look back upon the past with tolerable com])osure, these 
 unconnected documents were written ; and any portions of the tale 
 which may not be sufficiently intelligible, your own fancy must fill 
 up. I ha\'e not shrunk from being the chronicler of my own shame ; 
 but I have not nerve or courage to be the narrator of suffering so 
 terrible, that reason was unseated, and Heaven alone, through gentle 
 agencies, saved me from total despair. Save one — my child — no other 
 eye has rested on these papers — none other will ; for, when you restore 
 them to-morrow, the record of crime and sorrow shall perish. Fare- 
 well ! At dawn of day expect me. Sleep soundly, boy ; — may never 
 recollections of the past rob you of rest, as they will me ! " 
 
 He shook my hand, bade me good night, and retired to his chamber ; 
 and I, burning with curiosity to learn all the particulars of a " strange 
 eventful history," broke the sealed packet, and read the following 
 details : — 
 
HECTOR O IIALLORAX. 239 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 ^:T uncle's story continued. 
 
 " Ge«<.— Help :— hi'.p :— O, help ! 
 Etlgnr. Wbat kind of help ? 
 
 Albany. Speak, man. 
 
 EJyar. What means that bloody knife ? 
 Gen/. 'Tis hot ! — it smokes ! — 
 
 It came even from the heart of — 
 
 Albaiuj. 'Wlio, man ? — speak ! 
 
 Cent. Your lady, sir — your lady 1" 
 
 KexG Leak. 
 
 The city of Quito was brilliantly illuminritecl ; it was tlie anni- 
 versary of its patron saint, and, in honour of tlicir holy founder, the 
 convent and church of the Ursulines presented a spectacle of dazzling 
 splendour. The latter was lighted with a thousand tapers, and the great 
 altar was ornamented with all the monastic treasures which a devotee 
 delights to view. Crucifixes and sacred vessels, in gold and silver, 
 and of surpassing beauty, were liberally exhibited ; while relies, in 
 jewelled cabinets, were on this, the high festival of Saint Ursula, 
 brought from their hallowed shrines, to dt light the eyes and 'gladden 
 the hearts of the faithful. A long array of dignified ecclesiastics, in 
 sorseous robes, filed in procession through the lofty aisles, while 
 censoi's blazed, and the pealing organ thundered forth its "jubilate.'" 
 Within a Lvrge extent round the city, all that was noble, wealthy, or 
 religious, on this her glorious amiiversary, were assembled to do 
 honom- to their favourite saint, — wliile sdvos of artillery from the 
 ramparts, and the rolling fire oi feu de joie, rose at times above the 
 choral swell, adding to a religious pageant, the anomalous associations 
 which a battle-field and " heady fight " would give. To complete the 
 effect of this splendid spectacle, the proud, the brave, the beautiful, fol- 
 lowed humbly in procession after monk and nun — the men bearing 
 perfumed tapers of coloured wax — v»-hile the women strewed flowers as 
 they moved along before the blessed relics of their sainted patroness. 
 
 Leaning against a pillar of the nave, two personages of very dif- 
 ferent appearance, viev.ed the procession with that interest it v/as so 
 well calculated to excite. One, from his quiet air and sober dress, 
 seemed a man engaged in some peaceful avocation ; he might have 
 been a notary, a doctoi', or a trader. The other, a young, tall, and 
 handsome cavalier, was richly attired in a fanciful costume ; rapier 
 and poignard were in an embroidered belt ; rings of costly workman- 
 ship glittered on his fingers, and a jewel of exquisite brilliancy sparkled 
 from the looping of his richly-plumed hat. As the procession moved 
 slowly on, the gay stranger might have been overheard addressing his 
 more sober companion, to inquire who the actors in the passing scene 
 
240 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 might be ; and Avhile he bent his head indifferently as every succeeding 
 relic passed, and bishop and mitred abbot, one after another, defiled 
 before him, the irreligious stranger never asked their names. 
 
 " Yon stately man in the rich cope and alb is the holy prior of San 
 Angustin ; — he exorcises devils " 
 
 The gay foreigner impatiently interrupted his soberer companion. 
 " Hang the fat prior ! — we have no devils to be exorcised." 
 
 " And see, yonder thin black priest — he is the canon of San Koque, 
 — the best preacher that ever mounted pulpit." 
 
 " There leave him, my good friend, — I hate the drowsy race. Ha ! 
 — Who is that noble-looking person in the green uniform faced with 
 gold ? " 
 
 " That is General Paez. Saints and angels ! — here comes the 
 archbishop of " 
 
 " Nevermind the archbishop. Who is the silver-headed veteran 
 with the hat and scarlet plume ? " 
 
 " Oh, that is Admiral Cordova. But the Dominican who bears 
 the banner " 
 
 Again the irreligious foreigner broke in. " Confound them both ! 
 bearer and banner. Look, man !" — as another, and the fairest por- 
 tion of the procession, walked slowly past the pillar, strewing flowers 
 as they moved along. "Ay," said the stranger, "that sylph-like 
 girl, with blue eyes, is worth all the monks and cardinals who ever said 
 an ave, or carried a blessed candle. But see ! — mark you that lovely 
 girl in silvered satin ? — she with the ebon locks, and downcast eyes. 
 How beautiful is that air — the easy movement of lier walk — the grace 
 with which each flovrer drops from her hand ! I must not, dare not 
 look." 
 
 " 'Twere better not," remarked the soberer of tlie twain ; " she is 
 for the last time in worldly company : in another week she enters the 
 convent of Saint Agatha, and she will be professed immediately." 
 
 " Professed !" exclaimed his companion, — " what means that ? But 
 see — the procession halts ! " and at the moment, the beautiful religieuss 
 stopped at the base of the very pillar against wliich the gay stranger 
 had taken his position. 
 
 " Who is that sweet girl ? " said the latter, impatiently. 
 
 The sudden lialting of the long ai-ray caused the fair flower-bearer 
 to look up, and her eyes encountered those 'of the stranger which were 
 turned upon her in breathless admiration. The beautiful devotee 
 coloured to the brows, and again her eyes dropped upon the tesselated 
 pavement. It was probably from agitation that a small bouquet, com- 
 posed of the most dehcate flowers which a tropic clime produces, fell 
 unconsciously from her hand, when, unperceived by any but the lovely 
 relifjieuse and his own companion, the stranger picked it up, pressed 
 it for a moment with ardour to his lips, and then carefully deposited 
 the floral treasure in his bosom. Again the procession moved, the 
 beauteous devotee exchanged a passing glance ; and if it were 
 intended to reprove the boldness of the daring adventui-er, or express 
 sorrow at the loss of her fragrant bouquet, neither feeling was con- 
 veyed, for the look was the sweetest one imaginable. 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 241 
 
 " Now by every saint upon the calendar, and the list is longer than 
 the muster-bill of a linc-ot'-battle shi}), it's ull over -with me — I'm lost 
 — destroyed — undone. Who is that angel in woman's form ? Speak ! " 
 exclaimed the stranger, passionately. 
 
 " The loveliest girl in Grenada," returned his companion. 
 
 " Pshaw ! tell me not what I know already — but her name ? her 
 family ? Come, out with all you know, man." 
 
 " It's a long story," replied the civilian. 
 
 " No matter," returned his friend, "tell me anything connected with 
 that charming devotee, and I'll listen although the tale lasted to 
 eternity." 
 
 " Captain," replied the other, — and he whispered the title by which 
 he addressed him softly in his gay companion's ear, — " 'ware love ! — 
 Cupid himself would hnd no welcome on board a vessel called the 
 Flambeau." 
 
 "Out with the story!" exclaimed the stranger; "or I'll break 
 through the procession, and ask it of the sweet girl herself." 
 
 " Well," said the civilian, with a smile, " to keep 5'ou clear of the 
 Inquisition for an insult to a favourite saint like blessed Agatha, 
 I will tell you all I know. Sit down upon this marble pediment, and 
 we can speak without any one hearing us. Marked you the gi'ey- 
 headed commander, dressed in a blue uniform, with two crosses at his 
 breast ? " 
 
 " To be sure I did : the worn-out admiral who bore a candle in the 
 crowd. Well, the taper is fitter than the sword for the hand of age to 
 carry ; no doubt, many a day since, the old gentleman has been laid up 
 in ordinary." 
 
 " He would be anything but flattered could he but overhear our 
 conversation," continued the companion of the gay stranger. " In 
 ordinary ! Not he, faith ! — It is barely six months ago since he mar- 
 ried the " 
 
 " Widow of some gouty general," exclaimed the other, impatient!}'. 
 " Pshaw ! — no more of him." 
 
 " He married," responded the civilian, '•' no Avidow of a gouty 
 general, but Inez de Eomana." 
 
 " An antiquated virgin," said the stranger, with a smile ; " of high 
 family, holy life, and on the wi'ong side of sixty." 
 
 " Never did a man guess wider of the mark : she was one of the 
 prettiest girls in the province, and on the right side of seventeen," ob- 
 served the civilian. 
 
 " But what the devil does it interest me," exclaimed the stranger, 
 " whether an old gentleman exhibits his dotage by committing matri- 
 mony, or any other similar absurdity ? I don't Avaut to know anything 
 about his wife." 
 
 " But you wish me to favour you with full particulars touching his 
 lovely daughter." 
 
 " His daughter ! " said the sti'anger : " Is yonder peerless beauty 
 indeed that old man's child ? " 
 
 " His only child. She pays the penalty of an act of dotage, for the 
 old fool's marriage consigns her to a convent." 
 
2^2 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " Monstrous ! " ejaculated the stranger : " Wiiat ! bury beauty like 
 her's within a living grave ! By Heaven ! I'll escalade the convent 
 walls myself, and liberate that lovely victim ; ay, though I perished by 
 the hands of the Inquisition for the sacrilege ! But why, if the old 
 man played the fool, should she, poor girl, be immured for it ? " 
 
 " To gratify the selfish vanity of a weak old dupe. Inez was the 
 orphan daughter of a poor knight of San lago ; and on her i\\tlier's 
 death, without friends or fortune, she was destined to take the veil. 
 Educated at the same convent with the heiress of the admiral, she 
 came to visit her young companion before the vows should be pro- 
 nounced, that would sever her for ever from society. The old man 
 saw her, and, struck with her beauty, l\incied that he loved. He told 
 his tale of folly. Inez detested the seclusion which awaited her. A 
 splendid home — a life of luxury — the name of wife — a lover ! — 
 coupled with a title, were offered and accepted. Inez is vain and 
 ostentatious, and a sadden rise from humble orphanage, has almost 
 turned her brain. She indulges in every extravagance, and the doting 
 admiral, they say, yields to every solicitation, no matter how ex- 
 pensive ; and thus a fortune, sufficient to support the rank and 
 establishment of a grandee, has been found inadequate to meet the 
 profusion his silly marriage has entailed ; and to gratify the extrava- 
 gance of his youthful consort, the old dupe has determined that 
 liis onl}^ child shall be sacrificed, to enable him to meet the extra- 
 vagant demands made upon his purse, by the capricious girl whom he has 
 been weak enough to marry. And now. Captain Ramirez, you know as 
 much as I do of every thing connected with the lovely rel/gieuse." 
 
 " By Heaven ! " returned the stranger, passionately, " friend 
 Sanchez, I will know more, or the fault shall not be mine. But see — 
 the procession is about to move. AYhither will these fat drones steer 
 to now ? Stand fast ; they'll pass again. I would not lose the chance 
 of another angel-glance of yon dark eye, for this brilliant in my hat ; 
 and the water is the purest in Grenada." 
 
 " And what would you give me, could I procure you an interview ? 
 Ay, captain, stare not so incredulously ; an interview ! — not exactly 
 tete-a-tete ; but in the pi-esence only of a youthful step-dame, and 
 myself, your very humble servant," said the civilian, with a smile. 
 
 " Give !" exclaimed the stranger ; " change your query, Signor 
 Sanchez, and rather inquire, what would I not give. Pshaw ! the 
 thing's impossible." 
 
 "Would you wager one hundi'ed dollars on the event?" inquired 
 the Captain's companion. 
 
 " No," returned the stranger ; " but I'll bet you three to one, and 
 in hundreds too." 
 
 " Done," was the brief reply. 
 
 " And clone. The wager's made. Prepare your money. Master 
 Sanchez. Were it but for exciting false hopes, every dollar shall be 
 exacted, whether they be begged, borrowed, or stolen. But, saints 
 and angels ! here she comes." 
 
 Again the long ai-ray filed past in solemn march ; and a less devout 
 spectator could not have been discovered in the crowded assemblage 
 
HECTOR o'HALLORAX. 213 
 
 than Captain Ramirez, The arclibisliop of Mohlivia glided on in 
 stately dignity ; and the stranger regarded the haughty prelate with as 
 little veneration as the neophyte who waved a perfumed censer in 
 his rear. On came the thin black canon of San Eoque ; and tho 
 ablest preacher in the province elicited no more notice. In fiict, 
 two objects engrossed the gallant captain's attention — one was the old 
 admiral with the yellow taper ; and the other that lovely devotee, his 
 daughter. 
 
 !She passed the pillar closely as before. To the stranger, the 
 crowded procession contained a single object, and his ardent gaze 
 songht that one only in the throng. She came; for a moment she 
 raised her soft and speaking eyes,- — they met those of the stranger. 
 He took the tlowers from his bosom— pressed them to his lips. Tho 
 fair devotee observed the act ; and the glance that answered it, would 
 not induce a lover to despair. 
 
 '•' Now," said Captain Ramirez, as the ceremony ended, and liic 
 numerous spectators issued from the church, " if ever man were fairly 
 ruined, I am he. Friend Sanchez, how gladly would I tell thee out 
 three hundred dollars 1 '' 
 
 " Indeed I " said the civilian ; '• I'm happy to assure you, that that 
 pleasure is reserved for to-morrow." 
 
 "Would I dare think it so," said the captain, with a sigh; '-bi-t; 
 how is it to be done? Are we to pick locks, scale walls, commit 
 murder, or — " 
 
 " Heaven foi'bid !" returned Signer Sanchez ; "Ave will effect it by 
 no felonious means, or I shall agree to forego the benefit of the wager. 
 Rest assured, that the. entry into the admiral's domicile shall be peace- 
 fully achieved. Come, supper will be Avaiting ; we will finish after- 
 wards a tlask or two to the health of the peerless Camilla ; and, if by 
 the hour of siesta to-morrow, I have not liglitened your purse by 
 three hundred pieces, why, worthy captain, then vrrite Juan Sanchez 
 down a very ass." 
 
 Morning came. The gay stranger was early a-foot ; for, were the trutli 
 told, the sweet religkusc had spoiled the captain's sleep. Presently his 
 host joined him. The morning meal was discussed ; and the stranger 
 reminded Signer Sanchez that he had not forgotten the wager made 0!i 
 the preceding evening. 
 
 " I should be sorry if you had, noble captain, for it would be to me 
 the loss of a sum in sterling silver, that we traders do not every 
 day realize so easily." 
 
 "Well, my friend, when is the trial to come off?" vras the inquiry. 
 
 " The bet shall be speedily decided ; and, in one hour hence, the 
 pocket of one of us will be lighter than it is at present : I could give 
 a shrewd guess. Captain Ramirez, which of them it will be." 
 
 Half tlie time wore away, when the essay was to be made ; and tlic 
 stranger became momentarily more impatient. 
 
 " I fancy you may prepare," said the civilian, " for your interview 
 with Camilla." 
 
 "What preparations are necessary?" inquired the stranger; "my 
 hat and sword are on the table." 
 
 r2 
 
214 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " Wliere they shall peaceably await ouv return. You must adopt a 
 more respectable appearance. DofF these gay trappings ; and, for the 
 occasion, pass as my assistant. There is a modest-looking dress at 
 your service, in the next room ; and when you have put it on, the box 
 yon are to carry will be ready." 
 
 In a few minutes the change of costume was completed. Don Juan 
 Sanchez set out for the admiral's residence, with a jewel-case under his 
 arm, and Captain Kamirez, attired like a sober citizen's attendant, 
 followed dutifully with another, largely stocked with artificial flowers, 
 and divers other articles which interest the fair sex. They reached 
 Don Manuel's residence, in the Plaza ; and the moment Sanchez and 
 his assistant presented themselves, they were freely admitted, and con- 
 ducted to a waiting-room, until their arrival should be formally 
 announced to the consort of the commander. 
 
 " Captain," said the civilian, in a wliisper, " liow many dollars 
 would you give to be off? Your wager's lost. Well, take tone from 
 me, and I promise you a gloi-ious opportunity. I am the bearer of an 
 emerald necklace — the young wife will be sufficiently occupied in its 
 examination : and could you not, in tlie interim, dispose of some of 
 your wares to the old man's daughter ?" 
 
 "Egad, I'll try. But, honest Sanchez, I fear I can manage the 
 retail business but indifferently. I'm in the wholesale line, you know. 
 Here comes the lady's page." 
 
 A richly-dressed negro-boy summoned the civilian and his com- 
 panion to the presence of Dona Inez. They found her in a magnificent 
 apartiTient, resting in luxurious indolence upon a splendid couch, while 
 the lovely devotee was arranging some beautiful flowers in a crystal 
 vase, in another corner of the chamber. Sanchez bowed with defer- 
 ential humility to the haughty beauty ; a civility she scarcely re- 
 turned ; and then, advancing to the sola, he presented a casket, with 
 its brilliant contents, for the inspection of the lofty Dona. 
 
 In a moment the attention of the consort of the admiral was enthralled 
 with the jewellery that this costly casket presented, and frequent excla- 
 mations of her admiration told how ardently she responded to the com- 
 mendations of the merchant, as he pointed out the beauty of every gem. 
 
 " Pedro," said the civilian, " show that box of thine to yonder lady. 
 Flowers, merely, your excellenza ; fit only for young ladies about to 
 be pi'ofessed." 
 
 The companion of Juan Sanchez instantly obeyed the order of his 
 superior; and, crossing the apartment, disclosed the ti'easurCs of his box. 
 
 " The flowers are pretty," said the beautiful Camilla, , with a sigh, 
 " but I do not require any. They tell me there are enough in the 
 garden of the convent. Heigh-ho ! " 
 
 " That wreath, lady, is reckoned beautiful," — and the companion of 
 Juan Sanchez selected what he considered the most valuable of the 
 collection. " Would you deign to accept — no, no, I mean, would 
 you oblige me by buying it ?" 
 
 The fair Camilla gracefully declined the purchase. 
 
 " Or that — or this one ; any — all." Thei'e never was a more im- 
 portunate flower-dealer. 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. ' 245 
 
 " My friend," replied the lady, gently, " indeed there is nothing here 
 that I require. You mistake me ; I am destined for a Ufe that forbids all 
 mortal luxuries. Show these things — and, indeed, some of them are 
 very beautiful — to yonder lady, my fiither's — " she paused, the name 
 was not a pleasant one to pronounce — ''she will probably buy them. 
 I do not need them ; and if I did — but no— down, down, proud 
 lieart — " and she turned aside to hide a teai*. 
 
 "Nay, lady, accept them; and, in return, repay me with your 
 prayers." 
 
 The intended novice waved her hand, and moved a step or two. 
 
 " Stay, lady ; stay for one moment. I have a flower here, an 
 empress could not purchase ; let me, pray let me, show it you." 
 
 '• Indeed ! " said the fair girl, as she turned round. 
 
 " It is too precious to "entrust within this casket, and therefore 
 I enshrine it here." 
 
 As he spoke, the stranger took from his bosom a bunch of flowers, 
 and placed them in Camilla's hand. Instantly a burning blush rose to 
 her very brows. A few rapid sentences fell from the stranger's lips ; 
 a billet was placed softly in no unwilling hand ; when the entrance of 
 the admiral disturbed the course of love and traflic in which the 
 civilian, and his excellent companion, were so busily engaged. 
 
 " I dare not ask him for so much money to-day," said Dona Inez, in 
 a whisper ; " but promise me to keep the jewels until Friday, and 
 then come here." 
 
 The obsequious merchant gave the necessary pledge, and, follovred 
 by his attendant, he made an humble obeisance, and quitted the man- 
 sion of Don Manuel de Cordova. 
 
 Friday came. Again the visit was repeated : other brilliants had 
 been added, in the interim, to the rich display that Juan Sanchez had 
 previously exhibited; and the stranger's flowers had been replaced 
 with others of rarer kinds, and more exquisite fragrance. No wonder, 
 therefore, that both collections were examined with an increased 
 interest ; and, in the wife and daughter of the admiral, that each found 
 an ardent admirer. At the especial request of the former lady, the 
 final selection of jewellery was postponed until the following Monday. 
 Camilla was then to spend that her last day with the world ; for the 
 next day was to witness her private reception into the convent of 
 Saint Agatha, to prepare herself for the formalities of an immediate 
 profession. 
 
 Monday came, and the diamond-merchant presented himself punc- 
 tuallv at Don Manuel's door. He was alone, and his friend the flower- 
 dealer no longer accompanied him. He knocked, but admission was 
 refused ; and the porter informed him, that his lady declined that day 
 receiving any visitors. There was a strange confusion visil)le through 
 the whole of the admiral's establishment ; and servants hurried to and fro, 
 with an anxiety apparent in their looks, like that of men to whom some 
 surprising occurrence had been recently made known. In a few hours, 
 the cause of this commotion was whispered over the city, and created 
 universal astoniehment. The admiral's fair daughter, Camilla, who 
 in a few days was to have become the betrothed of Heaven, had, 
 
246 THE rORTUNES OF 
 
 on the preceding nigTit, eloped from her fatlier's maiision, and not a 
 trace of the beautiful fugitive could be discovered. The day passed, 
 aud no tidings were heard of the lost one : and the most extensive 
 inrjuiries produced but little information. It was ascertained that a 
 tisliing-canoe had observed a felucca cross the bar, and, at an unusual 
 time of tide, stand out to sea — and a stranger, wliose brilliant appear- 
 ance occasioned a sensation in the city, had suddenly departed from 
 the hotel Avhere he lodged, accompanied by his black domestic. Months 
 succeeded days — Camilla Avas never heard of ; and many and marvel- 
 lous wei'e the surmises as to the means and manner, by which the 
 lovely daughter of Don Manuel de Cordova had been so mysteriously 
 spirited away. 
 
 Three years slipped away. Don Manuel de Cordova was gathered to 
 Isis fathers ; and after the briefest period of moui'ning, which a decent 
 respect to the memory of one who had bequeathed her his whole 
 fortune, would allow, the young relict had bestowed her widowed hand 
 on a wild and dissijiated grandee. Of the lost Camilla no tidings wei'C 
 <!yer heard, and her strange disappeai'anee remained as much a mystery 
 as it was on the morning after it occuri-ed. 
 
 Another event had caused immense joy along the coast. A cele- 
 brated rover, Avhich for years had infested the neighbouring seas, had 
 bev.'n driven on shore and destroyed by an English cruiser. Indeed it 
 v/as full time that the Flambeau's predatory career should be termi- 
 nated. While she had continued under the command of a person who 
 called himse]f Eamircz, her spoliations were restricted to what is con- 
 sidered allowable to vessels occupied in free trading, anJ no acts of 
 violence had ever been permitted. But for some unknown cause that 
 -captain had mysteriously disappeared, and under his successor, the 
 rover became a regular pirate ; and, from the extent of her depre- 
 dations, her destruction became indispensable. In effecting this, most 
 of her lawless crew had fallen, and the remainder were driven into the 
 woods, where, as it was hoped and expected, they would be speedily 
 arrested and brought to that justice which so long they had managed 
 to evade. 
 
 In one of those sweet glades which are found occasionally in the 
 pathless forests of the south, and show, amid tlie interminable extent 
 of dank weeds and underwood by which they are environed, like an 
 oasis in the desert, the summer residence of a wealthy planter had been 
 erected. The front verandah of the building opened on a piece of 
 open land, which stretched its green and velvet-looking surface gently 
 do'.'/nwards, xintil it rested on the bank of one of those deep inlets which 
 debouch into the mighty rivers that intersect the southern portion of 
 America ; while the rear of this romantic retreat was overhung by 
 woods composed of the noblest trees the earth produces, and in every 
 variety of tint and foliage. The house itself was of slight construc- 
 tion, and designed only for temporary habitation ; for, like other pro- 
 prietors of opulence, the owner possessed a splendid mansion in a 
 seaport some fifty leagues lower down the river ; a place better suited, 
 
HECTOR OilALLORAN. 247 
 
 both from comfort and society, to form a permanent residence ; and his 
 visits to this distant estate Avere merely fur the purpose of superintend- 
 ing a numerous gang of negroes engaged in felling hard woods, and in 
 enjoying the amusements of hunting and shooting, which boundless 
 forests and prairies abundantly afforded. All in and about this rustic 
 abode evidenced both wealth and taste, and presented every elegance 
 and luxury that was adapted to a tropic climate. 
 
 It was a warm and lovely night ; the musquito curtains were closed, 
 «nd in a very elegant saloon the owner of this sporting-lodge and his 
 family might have been discovered. 
 
 A sweeter scene of domestic repose could never have been selected 
 by a painter than the group within exhibited. A man, stout, hand- 
 some, and in the flower of life, had his dark eyes fixed, with pride 
 mingled with alTection, upon a female younger than himself by at least 
 a dozen years. Nothing could be lovelier than the beautiful counte- 
 nance he looked upon, as hanging over a sleeping child that rested in 
 her lap, a mother's looks of love were bent upon her slumbering 
 treasure. Behind the lady's chair, a tall finely-proportioned negro 
 v,-as standing with a silver salver, on which were fruits and wine ; 
 while a beautiful Chilleno girl waited at her mistress' side, to receive 
 her sleeping charge. Presently the infant was committed to its nurse's 
 arms. The negro placed his refreshments on the table, and, with the 
 fair Chilleno, immediately quitted the apartment, leaving the jilanter 
 and his lovely wife to the society of each other. 
 
 The lady rose and looked out from the lattice on the lawn, and as 
 she crossed the chamber the grace of her figui'e M'as displayed. It 
 boasted no longer the airy elegance of girlish symmetry : the flower 
 was in its bloom — the foi'm exhibited womanly maturity ; and it was 
 apparent that her's was that endearing situation, which doubly claims 
 a husband's tenderest care. 
 
 Evening had changed to midnight ; not a breath of wind rustled the 
 leaves, or rippled the glassy surface of the river. All were asleep but 
 the guilty ; and yet, at that lone hour, a group of men were circled 
 round a lire beside a sandy cove, on which a boat was drawn ashore. 
 They were all armed ; and while some were preparing supper, others 
 kept a vigilant look out. They had the air and appearance of wild and 
 desperate men ; and their conversation, maintained in that low tone 
 which evinces suspicion, confirmed their lawless character. 
 
 " What an infernal accident," said one of the rovers, " to run her 
 smack upon a sunken rock, and lose the vessel after boasting that he 
 knew every creek and cove from Cliiloe to Cape Francisco." 
 
 " He'll never lose another," observed a second scoundrel, coolly. 
 " But Gaspard is over ready with his pistol. Before the schooner's 
 copper had scraped the coral a second time, Diego was dead as 
 a mackarel. Poor devil I — the skijiper allowed no time for ex- 
 planations." 
 
 " Ay, and the captain was a-ight," observed a truculent ruflian, 
 whose features were scarcely visible from the matted covering of coal- 
 black hair, which hid them from chin to forehead. " I'm half sorry, too, 
 that we lost the blundering fool — he didn't mean it after all. There's 
 
218 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 but a handful of the old Flambeaus left, and one now-a-days can't trust 
 to strangers." 
 
 " What a lucky craft that old Flambeau was," said the first speaker : 
 *' her equal for success, in Captain Ramirez' time, was never known. 
 And then he kept all so nicely out of trouble ; and though men 
 grumbled at him now and tlicn, why, in the long-run, he proved a 
 wise-one. He valued no flag but one ; and a yard of British bunting 
 was a vessel's full security. If we met an English trader short of 
 water, why he supplied it freely; were provisions wanted, he put us on 
 short allowance, and divided to the last biscuit with the starving crew. 
 Well, the first sliip — French, Dutch, or Spaniard, Portuguese or Dane — 
 we met with afterwards, he made up the loss — ay, and helped himself to 
 a double quantity, because he had succoured the distressed. Well, the 
 foreigner probably complained to the first broad pennant, when he 
 reached a harbour, when in dropped a disabled ship to tell that in her 
 distress she had got all she wanted from the Flambeau. Had the gallant 
 Ramirez remained, the finest schooner that ever crossed the line would 
 be as she used to be, breasting the waters like a sea-gull. See what fell 
 out : Gaspard couldn't stand temptation, but must fall foul of a rich 
 Jamaica-man, — and in a month a clipper sloop is dispatched to regularly 
 run us down ; and sticks to us like a bloodhound, until, like our name- 
 sake, we were regularly extinguished. Ah ! poor Flambeau ! " 
 
 " It's all true. We never knew the old captain's loss, till after we 
 liad got a new one ; and many's the time Gaspard has heard that told 
 him, Avhen he didn't like it. But where has he wandered to ? He's 
 full an hour away." 
 
 " He's not lost, however ; for see, he comes along the cove." 
 
 Of all that lawless company, assembled round a midnight fire, the 
 new comer looked the greatest ruffian. 
 
 " How now," he said, assuming an air and tone of command, " is 
 supper ready yet ? There's no great cooking required, iSIaster Sambo," 
 said he, addressing a mulatto who appeared to be the cook ; " scanty ftire 
 at present, lads — fish, fish, fish ! No matter; better luck again. Come, 
 let's have it as it is. Step to the boat, Soto, and bring us that runlet 
 of Hollands. Curses on that stupid scoundrel, who, with plenty of 
 sea room and smooth water, lost a vessel so foolishly ! " 
 
 " He paid for his mistake upon the spot : you're clear with him, 
 captain," growled amother ruffian. 
 
 " Ay, were he myj brother, he should have fared no better. But, 
 come, my lads, eat, drink, and bless the saints afterwards, for giving 
 you the commander you have." 
 
 " I Avisb," said another rover, " we could rather persuade them to 
 mend our fare a little. Nothing but river fish — one worse than 
 another, and the best not fit for a nigger's banyan day. I fancy we'll 
 fare still worse ; the vessel gone, and not a chance of getting another ! 
 Wliat the devil could have brought us here ? Toiling at the oars for 
 a hundred miles up a river, where nothing could be met with but 
 timber rafting down the stream. Pish ! a pretty way to lose a schooner. 
 I say, Avhat drove us here ?" 
 
 " Silence !" said the captain ; " and I'll tell you." 
 
HECTOR o'HALLORAN. 249 
 
 " I wish Tou would," returned the other, in a mutinous tone. 
 
 " Revenge !" was the stern reply ; " revenge and plunder !" 
 ^ " Revenge sounds well enough," returned the former speaker, '•' and 
 plunder better still. But on whom have we any cau?e of vengeance, 
 fifty leagues from ocean ? Who are we to find here, among 'mango 
 trees and cockatoos ? And as to plunder, there's nothing to be picked 
 up but drift wood ; and there's a chance — -a raft floating down the 
 river, and only a brace of niggers guarding it ! " and the fellow laughed 
 in derision. 
 
 " Peace," roared the captain, sternly. " Pass the runlet ; and at its 
 third round, I'll tell you why we came." 
 
 '•Is Dutch courage required to-night, captain, that we must be 
 di-unk, or half-seas over, before you tell us what brought us here ?*' 
 
 " By Heaven ! Juan, you will drive me further than I wish," and 
 the captain laid his hand upon a pistol. 
 
 " Hold ! hold 1'' exclaimed half-a-dozen voices ; " no more of that 
 to-night. No use in mincing matters ; the schooner's sunk, and 
 what are we to do ? — keep here, and rob fishing canoes, as we did 
 to-night, to fiu-nish out a rascally existence ? or seek the bush at once, 
 and baud ourselves with nigger runaways ? Captain, it won't do." 
 
 " Hear me, men," exclaimed the captain, passionately. " 'Tis true 
 the vessel's gone : well, that's no fault of mine ; but for the plan — 
 revenge and plunder. Don't they sovmd well together ?" 
 jg: " Ay ; let's hear it," said a rover. 
 
 "You all remember Ramirez?" 
 ' " Ay, ay," was generally responded. 
 
 " You thought him — " 
 
 An outbre;ik from the band prevented the captain from finishing 
 the sentence. 
 
 " Ramirez," said the man whose face was ensconced' in hair, "was 
 the best commander that I — and I'm twelve years in the free trade — 
 ever sailed under ; ay, or ever will." 
 
 " In action, cool as a cucumber," rejoined a second. 
 
 " And," added a third, " in real danger, fierce as a wild cat ; and 
 with all his wits about him, too." 
 
 " Night nor day, I never saw him disguised in liquor," observed 
 another, who was so particularly drunk, that he could barely articulate. 
 
 " You might trust him with uncounted gold — " 
 
 " And to his ship's company," added a sixth, winding up the eulo- 
 gium, " he was true as needle to the north." 
 
 " "Well, comrades," said the captain, moodily, " I'll allow that 
 Ramirez was a good commander, an able seaman, stout leader, capital 
 hand at a pinch, slept always with his starboard eye open ; but he 
 was — " and he paused. 
 
 "What ?" cried a dozen voices. 
 
 " The falsest villain that ever betrayed a gallant crew !" 
 
 " No, no, no," was repeated by a dozen voices. 
 
 "I'll give you proof positive. He disappeared; but none of you 
 could tell, or even guess, the wealth lie carried with him. None 
 suspected him ; for all of you thought him a nonesuch. Well, what 
 
250 THE FOPiTUNES OF 
 
 was he all along ? why, nothing more nor less than a hired spy. He 
 gave the cruisers secret information of all that passed in every port 
 ■vve entered as free traders ; and, in return, they never looked after 
 him. Well, he got blown on the coast at last ; and, when he could no 
 longer carry on the game, he left the Flambeau to lier f:\te. And how 
 long after he had deserted ship and comrades was it before the British 
 buU-dogs were let loose upon the sweetest schooner that ever swam 
 the sea ? " 
 
 " Ay, ay, captain," observed a rover, '•' that's all well enough ; but 
 recollect, that in the time of Captain Eamirez, men never walked the 
 plank ; nor did he, like a common ass, make free with English bunting, 
 and put his hand upon the lion's mane. If a doubtful sail appeared 
 in the gulph, why an English merchantman would run under the Flam- 
 beau's stern for protection ; and, there's no nse talking, Captain 
 Ramirez stood so high with every skipper in tliese seas, that, d — n me, 
 were he sentenced to be hanged, I think they'd hardly get men 
 enough in a whole ship's compan)'-, to man the fall that sent him to 
 the fore-yard. No, no ; he never intentionally left the schooner. 
 Poor dear soul ! — he was murdered, and that's my opinion," 
 
 A dozen voices answered in a willing affirmative. 
 
 "Dolts and madmen!" shouted the captain ; "he lives! ay, lives ! 
 "Why stare ye thus, like fools ? — Ay, lives in luxury and splendour ; the 
 richest planter in the province ; the highest among the high ; and aU 
 bouglit by what ? — falsehood, and deep, deep treachery ! " 
 
 " Impossible !" exclaimed the rovers. 
 
 " True, by the light of heaven ! " returned the pirate chief. " He 
 lives ; ay, and is sleeping at his ease — wealth around him, and beauty 
 in his arms — not half a league from the very spot I stand on." 
 
 " Captain Ramirez alive, and wealtliy, and within cannon-shot?" 
 
 " If Captain Ramirez be not, .there's one that wiU answer just as 
 well, although he has droj^ped a former title, and taken the plainer 
 one of Hartley." 
 
 " Come, captain, no riddles, if you please ; we're plain seamen, and 
 can only understand a plain story. If Ramirez is alive, and as you 
 have described him, why, all you said against him must be true. Men 
 neither come back from the grave, nor do they pick up doubloons in 
 the woods, hke hiccory nuts. If your tale be true, Ramirez is a traitor 
 and a rogue ; and, were there no other hand to do the job, I'd row a 
 hundred leagues for the mere pleasure of cutting the throat of ^a 
 scoundrel that sold us all." 
 
 " Juan, the right pluck is in thee still," returned Gaspard, with a 
 smile of demoniac satisfoction. " AVhat say ye all, lads ? " 
 
 " Why, that he who wouldn't do as honest Juan says, has no 
 manhood in him," responded a rover. 
 
 " Come, pass the good liquor round, and then for booty and revenge!" 
 
 From hand to hand the runlet passed, until the contents were 
 drained to the very bottom. Maddened by ardent spirits, burning 
 under the belief of having been betrayed, and excited by the hope of 
 plunder, the ferocious band prepared for violence and bloodshed. Their 
 arms were examined ; the simple plan of attack explained by the 
 
HECTOR o'lIALLORAN. 251 
 
 ruffian leader, wbo IiacI already reconnoitred the dwelling of liis 
 intended victim ; the boat was carefully drawn up, and hidden in the 
 tall reeds which fringed tlie river's bank ; water carried irom the 
 stream, and flung on the red embers of the lire ; and, in Indian files, 
 one after another, the ruffians took a narrow path cut through the 
 tangled underwood, and followed their truculent commander. 
 
 l)id no eye, save that which looks alike on innocence and guilt, observe 
 them? Yes ; the slave, whose canoe they had despoiled, directed by 
 the fire, had traced the marauders, and, concealed in the thick brush- 
 wood, overheard their plans of murder. While making their final pre- 
 parations, the negro glided through the coppice like a snake, and ran, 
 at headlong speed, to alarm his devoted master. He reached the 
 dwelling safely ; but it was to alarm, and not to save ! 
 
 The planter's country-house was wrapped in night and silence ; the 
 lights were extinguished, and the inmates buried in deep repose. 
 From the lord to tlie serf, all felt the influence of that peaceful hour ; 
 and in the woods where he had toiled all day, the negro slept in 
 his wigwam as soundly as his master ; for, as the Indian adage goes, 
 '• The lightest heart has ever the heaviest eye-lid." 
 
 At that still hour, a dusky figure stole underneath the verandah of 
 the planter's house, and sought a window in the rear. Twice, he tapped 
 gently on the lattice ; the third time, the sound was sharper — and it 
 was heard and answered. To a person within, the negro communicated 
 some intelligence, and the next moment a door was cautiously unclosed, 
 and the late visitor admitted. 
 
 "Whatever the tidings were, which this untimely messenger had 
 brought, they seemed to have created an unusual sensation. From 
 window to window lights flashed rapidly, and human figures flitted to 
 and fro. But the alarm as speedily subsided ; the lights disappeared; and 
 darkness, denser appai-ently than before, returned ; and the ominous 
 silence that succeecled, rendered the recent hurry the more remarkable. 
 
 The interval of this singular repose was brief — it was but a trea- 
 cherous calm. Armed men issued quietly from the cover of the 
 woods, and, halting at a little distance from the sleeping house, they 
 held a rapid consultation. Presently, dividing into two bodies, they 
 approached the planter's dwelling. One moved stealthily to the front 
 — the other as cautiously stole round the rear. The marauders calcu- 
 lated upon effecting a surprise, but the negro fisherman had warned 
 the inmates of their danger ; and on the first attempt to force an 
 entrance, a double discharge from a lower-lattice stretched two of the 
 assailants on the ground ; while, in the rear, the attack proved equally 
 disastrous. 
 
 It might have been expected, that, astounded at a sanguinary and 
 unexpected repulse^ the villains would have abandoned their design. 
 But, desperate men, they brought with them desperate means, and, at 
 the order of their leader, they flung lighted combustibles into the 
 thatch which covei-ed the edifice ; and retiring for shelter behind 
 tlie nearest trees, maintained a fusilade upon tlie house, and waited 
 with demoniac patience the rapid progress of fire — their terrible 
 auxiliary. 
 
252 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 In a few minutes the roof was in a blaze, and the upper story, con- 
 structed entirely of wood- work, caught fire. Coolly the murderous 
 ruffians watched the flames as they enveloped the edifice from front to 
 rear ; and assured of the result, they watched the crisis with fiendish 
 pleasure. 
 
 It came : — all — above, below — the building was sheeted in fire. Sud- 
 denly, the negroes broke out from the blazing pile, and rushed towai'ds 
 the woods for safety. Two male slaves wei*e instantly shot down — 
 the others effected their escape. 
 
 " Now, lads, look sharp," roared the demon leader of the gang ; 
 " the traitor will bolt immediately. No mercy for Eamirez ! " 
 
 The words were scarcely uttered before a white man, only half- 
 dressed, and bearing a female in his arms, sprang from the burning 
 ruins, followed closely by a tall poAverful negro, with a bundle grasped 
 by his left arm, and a cutlas flaming in his right hand. The leader 
 dashed past the trees where the murderers had taken their stand, at 
 headlong speed, apparently as little embarrassed with the female form 
 he carried, as if his burden were an infant. The negro kept directly in 
 his master's rear. A yell arose : half a dozen shots were discharged — 
 but not a bullet fouiid its mark. 
 
 " By Heaven ! the villain will escape us ! " roared the pirate- 
 captain, rushing from his concealment in pursuit. Another of tlie 
 gang had already crossed his path, but the fugitive discharged a pistol, 
 and shot the assailant dead. The occurrence caused a moment's delay. 
 It was a fatal one : for Gaspard overtook his intended victim, and struck 
 fiercely at him with a dagger. It missed the heart it aimed at, but 
 found a sheath in the bosom of her whom the fugitive supported ; and 
 before a surer blow could be delivered, with one trenchant sweep the 
 negro's cutlass cleft the villain to the chin. The wood was gained — 
 the fugitive believing that he held a living body in his ai'ms ! Alas ! 
 that precious burden was only a breathless corpse ! 
 
 That was the last effort of the murderers. A gang of wood-cutters, 
 alarmed by the blaze and firing, had hurried to their master's domicile, 
 while the murderous crew, eight in number, retreated to the woods; 
 and for that time, darkness and a tangled copse concealed them. 
 
 They tell me that for an hour I gazed on the loved one in stupid 
 indifference. I can believe it Avell : the blow was stunning. Not a 
 slave ventured to approach me ; for even their dull natures respected 
 the bereavement this terrible calamity had brought on. Gradually 
 Dominique placed himself before me, holding my inf\mt in his right 
 arm ; for the left that clasped it when Ave broke from the burning pile, 
 had been wounded by a random bullet. 
 
 " What would you, Dominique ? " I inquired, in tones of deep 
 despondency. 
 
 " Vengeance !" exclaimed the negro, in a voice of thunder. "Leave 
 to woman's hands the duties owing to the dead, and let us together 
 hunt down the murderers. Vengeance ! vengeance !" 
 
 The voice of my ftiithful follower changed at once the current of 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 253 
 
 my thoughts. I raised myself, looked proudly round, and called for 
 food and wine. I ate bread — 'twas a form ; I drank wine — that was 
 reality. I seized my rifle, dagger, pistols; Dominique armed the 
 hardiest of my slaves ; and, before the sun rose, we set out to visit blood 
 for blood. 
 
 I was absent for three days and nights. I started warmly on the 
 death-chase, and never was one more keenly followed up. I seemed 
 insensible to ftitigue — heat, hunger, thirst were disregarded. Of five- 
 and-twenty vigorous axe-men, accustomed from infancy to forest-life, 
 by the second evening eighteen were worn out, and imable to proceed ; 
 and yet I and Dominique— and he with a wounded arm — pursued the 
 traces of the murderers with unabated ardour. I ate not, slept not, 
 but drank brandy and shed blood. Seven of the eight had already 
 perished ; but that eighth one lived ; and without that ruffian's hfe, 
 my vengeance was incomplete. On we went once more, and the human 
 hunt continued. 
 
 We found the wretch, at last, stretched beneath a tree — worn down, 
 impassive, unresisting. I drew a pistol from my belt — looked at the 
 doomed one for a moment. Three had fallen, resisting, by my hand : 
 as many more by Dominique's. 
 
 " No," I ' said, as I replaced the weapon ; " desire the slaves to 
 string that felon up ; thou and I, my friend, cannot stoop to be his 
 executioners ! " 
 
 I returned — witnessed the obsequies of my wife. That scene was 
 too much for one already excited by maddening influences ; my senses 
 wandered — and memory deserts me. 
 
 Along, long gloomy epoch follows — ten years ; long, long years ! l^Ene 
 was a melancholy state of being ; for they neither could call me mad, 
 nor yet pronounce me sane. My child was placed in a neighbouring 
 convent: she grew — was happy ; and became, as the nuns averred, the 
 favourite pensionnaire of a dozen. I saw her seldom ; for when I did, 
 the striking likeness between her and her angel-mother for days 
 unsettled reason. Meanwhile, worldly events went prosperously ; and, 
 Heaven knows, without the slightest wish to increase possessions akeady 
 more than enough to defray every desire and want, still wealth flowed 
 in upon me ; and, in the list of rich Chilian proprietors, my name 
 stood high. 
 
 There was one period of the year when my reason was invariably 
 disturbed ; the anniversary of Camilla's murder. The whole of the 
 events attendant on that frightful tragedy came back to memory ; and 
 the scene was vivid to the imagination as if it were really being again 
 enacted. All was before my eyes— darkness and fire; slaughter; the 
 death chase ; the funeral ; and then insanity closed the fearful drama. 
 The domestics were alwiiys prepared for this awful season; and Domi- 
 nique remained with me like my shadow. 
 
 It chanced that a week before this sad anniversary, an English 
 botanist passed a country-house, where I was for the time residing, and, 
 stopping with me as a guest, he observed the gloom and depression 
 of my manner. Having delicately inquired the cause, and made himself 
 master of all the circumstances connected with the appalling visitation 
 
254 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 which I expected in another week, he asked permission to remain. 
 This was granted, — and, directing his attention to the peculiar symp- 
 toms of my disease, he at once pronounced it curable. This bold 
 assertion startled my household, who, for ten years, had witnessed the 
 annual return of my insanity, and always accompanied, as it was, with 
 unabated violence. But he seemed confident ; and I felt a secret 
 assurance that, through the instrumentality of this man's skill. Heaven's 
 mercy was about to be extended to me, and that blest gift, reason, 
 would be eventually restored. I placed myself, and all upon my esta- 
 blishment, during the approaching period of my mental aberration, 
 under the absolute direction of the stranger, 
 
 I was not deceived ; and the result proved that I had calculated 
 soundly on the ability and experience of my unknown visitor. Dread- 
 ing that it might inci'ease my excitement, the Chilleno doctors had 
 inhibited the visits of my child. The Englishman adopted a different 
 course : Isidora was sent for from the convent, and slie " ministered to 
 a mind diseased ; " and the soft influence of filial love, like the melody 
 of David's harp, effected a gentle cure, and soothed into tranquilUty 
 a spirit for so many years perturbed. 
 
 By the stranger's advice, I determined to quit the country, and 
 return to my native land. I disposed of my estates, transmitted my 
 fortune safely to England ; and, v\-ith a dearer treasm-e far, my gentle 
 Isidora, sailed for the island-home of freedom, and landed on my 
 native shores, after having been a wanderer and ahen for one-and- 
 twenty years. 
 
 A long absence had rendered European manners strange ; and, for 
 a time, I felt myself unequal to the novel task which a return to Eng- 
 land had imposed, that of mingling in society. For two years, Isidora 
 and I wandered through every portion of the British islands, for the 
 Continent was then closed against the traveller. Time, change of scene, 
 and the constant presence of my darling child, effected a mental cure, 
 and verified the assurances given me in South America by my able 
 physician, that my recovery would be permanent. I wished at least 
 to have the semblance of a home, although the very name recalled my 
 past calamities ; and, in order that I might fall back, when wearied 
 with the world, on a retirement congenial to my fancy, I purchased 
 that wild retreat in which our first acquaintance was so singularly 
 formed. Thither, I have occasionally retired to enjoy solitude and my 
 child's society. Ours, indeed, seemed stolen visits on the world, — and 
 we both felt that calm pleasure only to be estimated by those who 
 have lived for each other and alone, when, like wild birds to their 
 nest, we sought and found the peaceful seclusion which our mountain 
 home afforded. 
 
 Your visit. Hector, rekindled feelings long suppressed, and spun-ed 
 me to exertions that, probably, under other circumstances, I should 
 have wanted nerve to undertake. Strange as it may appear, for 
 several years I watched your progress into manhood. The first im- 
 pressions when we met were favourable ; and a more extended acquaint- 
 ance has corroborated them. For your sake, and for Isidora's, I have 
 sacrificed my own yeai-uings after solitude, and come upon the stage 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN. 255 
 
 of life anew. My existence is nnknoAvn ; my errand unsuspected. 
 Should I succeed in my present objects, a noble inheritance shall be 
 restored to the rightful heir ; and should I fail, I have a consolation 
 left, in feeling that I have fortune's gifts at my disposal, and amply 
 sufficient, so far as wealth can confer peace and independence, to 
 ensure both to my children. You mark the term — Can he to whom 
 Isidora's happiness is to be confided be aught but a son to me V " 
 
 The record of an eventful life was ended ; and I bound those docu- 
 ments together, the perusal of which had occasioned an intense but 
 painful interest. It was long past midnight. At day-light it was 
 necessary that I thould be stirring ; and I retired to bed, to snatch a 
 few hours of repose. 
 
 I was still asleep when a gentle touch upon the shoulder dispelled 
 my uneasy slumbers, and the faithful follower of my uncle's fortunes 
 told me it was time to dress, and that the camarados of my intended 
 voyage and campaigns Avcre afoot, and waiting in the court-yard. 
 Indeed, the ratcatcher's presence was intimated already — for in per- 
 fect indifterence as to what might be the complexion of our future 
 fortune, Shemus Rhua was croning an Irish ditty. I dressed by candle- 
 light, descended to the eating-room, and there found " mine honoured 
 uncle." Alas — Isidora was not there to say farewell. She slept, 
 poor girl, little dreaming that we had already parted ; and that many 
 a month and stormy passage in a soldier's life must wear away, before 
 I should be permitted to retui'n and claim her plighted hand. 
 
 " Hector," said my uncle, with a sigh, as he received the papers he 
 had entrusted to me, and immediately committed them to the fire, 
 " you are now in full possession of every secret of my life. 'Tis 
 done — the disclosure is made — and I have nothing either to commu- 
 nicate or conceal. No more of this ; the clock chimes, — and our hour 
 of parting hurries on. I am going to deprive you of a follower, pro- 
 vided you can dispense with the services of Captain Macgreal, and 
 that he is willing to transfer his allegiance to me. Pray step down ; 
 and if the ratcatcher has no particular objection, let me have his 
 valuable assistance till you return. ' Strange fortunes produce strange 
 bedfellows,' a proverb says ; and singular positions require as singular 
 agents. Odd as it may appear, in the tangled web I shall have to un- 
 ravel, I may be beholden for success to that wild woman who seems 
 devoted to your interests, or this wandering personage, who appeal's 
 equally attached, and willing to follow where you lead." 
 
 A bi-ief communication with Shemus Rhua effected my uncle's wish j 
 and the ratcatcher placed his services at the disposal of Mr. Hartley. 
 Sooth to say, the captain's previous experience of a martial life had 
 left no craving in his breast after " tlie bubble reputation." 
 
 Nothing could be more picturesque than the departure of the fleet 
 from Portsmouth ; and years afterwards, memory recalled the poet's 
 description, and I could have imagined that Byron had been a fellow- 
 passenger. The morning was brilliant. The signal gun was answered. 
 All were immediately under way. 
 
256 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " I ween, a full fair sight ; 
 When the fresh breeze was fair as breeze can be, 
 The white sail set, the gallant frigate tight, 
 ISIasts, spires, and strand retiring to the right, 
 The glorious main expanding o'er the bow, 
 The convoy spread like wild swans in their flight, 
 The dullest sailor wearing bravelj" now; 
 So gailj^ curl the waves before each dashing prow." 
 
 Shall I confess the truth ? Never did an Irish cadet start for a 
 scene of glory with less enthusiasm. In the retirement of my father's 
 house, every newspaper that arrived had brought with it fresh details 
 of British victory, — and I longed, like another Norval, " to follow to 
 the field " any honest gentleman who would have taken the trouble to 
 show me the shortest way of getting a quietus — miscalled, the road to 
 glory. A few months had, hoAvever, wrought a marvellous alteration ; 
 and but for the shame of the thing, I verily believe, I should have 
 exchanged with some Captain Bailey of the day, and, without requir- 
 ing " the difference," forsworn the trade of arms, excepting the blood- 
 less duty appertaining to '• country quarters." 
 
 Now I was regularly committed. The dullest spirit would catch a 
 noble impulse. The fields of Roli9a, Busaco, and Salamanca rose in glo- 
 rious recollection ; another feeling succeeded the regret attendant on a 
 first separation from the object of a first love ; and, before the secondsun 
 went down, I should have scorned an ignoble return, until " with war's 
 red honours on my crest," I could have proudly claimed my afiianced 
 one. Speedily the true mercurial temperament of the Green island 
 returned. I joined the reckless merriment of aU around: we drank, 
 and laughed, and sang. Nothing could be more prosperous than the 
 voyage. 
 
 " On, on the vessel flies ; the land is gone. 
 And winds are rude in Biscay's sleepless bay. 
 ' Four days are sped, but with the fifth, anon, 
 New shores descried make every bosom gay ; 
 And Cintra's mountain greets them on their way ; 
 And Tagus dashing onward to the deep, 
 His fabled golden tribute bent to pay ; 
 And soon on board the Lusian pilots leap. 
 And steer 'twixt fertile shores where yet few rustics reap." 
 
 On the sixth evening we disembarked at Belem ; and with my foster 
 brother, Mark Antony O'Toole, I sprang from the frigate's launch, 
 and, for the first time, set foot on that scene of British glory — the 
 Peninsula. 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAX. 2o7 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIL 
 
 I JOIN THE CANTONMENTS OF THE ALLIED ARMY LIELTENANT 
 
 CROTTY's INTERVIEW WITH LORD WELLINGTON. 
 
 " Sir James. Surely you exaggerate a little ? 
 Papillon. Yes — yes, this interview will sink him. 
 Young Wilding. True to the letter, upon my honour.'' 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Why he -will tell you more lies in an hour than all the circu- 
 lating libraries put together -will publish in a year." 
 
 The Liar. 
 
 I HAD scarcely landed when I received the unwelcome intelligence 
 
 that General , to whose staff I had been appointed, had been 
 
 wounded on the retreat from Burgos, and in consequence obliged to 
 resign his command, and return to England invalided. I felt the 
 disappointment severely — but as the corps that I had previously ex- 
 changed into was at Valencia, with the ^Inglo- Sicilian army there 
 collected, much as I should. have desired '-to foUow to the field" the 
 victor of Salamanca, I determined to join my regiment without delay, 
 and " flesh my maiden sword" the ensuing campaign, under the colours 
 of the old and honourable Twenty-seventh. Ignorant of the route by 
 which I could cross the country to the eastern coast of Spain, and 
 anxious to see that gallant army under whose conquering banners 
 I had anticipated a glorious opening to my career in arms, after 
 a three days' sojourn in Lisbon, I left that city of filth and splendour 
 in company with half a dozen officers en route to join their re- 
 spective battalions — some, in return from leave— and others, like myself, 
 to smell powder for the first time. A captain of an Irish regiment was 
 of the party. He was a gay, honest-hearted, blundering countryman ; 
 and from the graphic sketches D'Arcy gave me on the road of all 
 attached to the battalion I was about to join, from the junior Ensign 
 of sixteen, to the old stitf-backed Colonel of sixty, I became so familiar 
 with the corps, that I almost fancied at first sight I could have placed 
 my hand on every head, and identified the individual — and, on the 
 evening when we entered the encampment of the regiment, I felt per- 
 fectly at home, and entered the rude mess-room as much at ease, as if, 
 after a temporary absence, I was merely returning to join some old 
 acquaintances. 
 
 It was a memorable epoch in the military histoiy of Britain, when, 
 early in the second week of Februaiy, 1813, I found myself in the 
 cantonments of the fourth division on the banks of the Agueda. Like 
 all sublunaiy affairs, w:u- has its season of repose ; and those mighty 
 masses of armed men, AVho but a few months before had stood in threat- 
 ening array in presence of each other, were separated by mutual 
 
 s 
 
258 THE FORTUNES CF 
 
 consent to recover tlieir losses and fatigues, and prepare for renewed 
 exertions. Each had selected that portion of the country Lest adapted 
 for obtaining supplies and reinforcements. The allied infantry were 
 cantoned generally on the Agueda and Douro — with their cavalry in 
 the valley'of the Mondego, and round Moncorbo. One Spanish corps 
 passed the winter in GaUicia, a second in Estreraadura, and a third 
 garrisoned Ciudad Rodrigo. Of the French armies, the head quarters 
 of the northern was at ^"alladolid ; tlie southern at Toledo ; and those 
 Cif the centre, including King Joseph and his guards, were established 
 at Segovia. In military circumstances, the rival armies found them- 
 selves, at the end of the preceding autumn, in a position similai- to that 
 of men who have fought a battle in wliich neither have come oif cou- 
 (lueror. Both had sustained enormous losses v/ithout countervailing 
 iidvantages ; and each required its casualties to be replaced, and its 
 discipline restored. At the opening of the campaign, ibrtune went as 
 heavily against the enemy, as it did against the allies at the close. 
 From the'^lSth of July, when the French passed the Douro, until they 
 recrossed it on the 30th, their loss might liave been set down at fifteen 
 thousand men, and the allies at abont a third of that number. "While, 
 from the time when Lord Wellington broke ground before Bui-gos, 
 until he halted on the banks of the Iluebra, in retreat, chiefly from 
 drunkenness and military irregularity, eight thousand of the allies 
 v.'ere reudei-ed hos de combat. 
 
 No wonder therefore that to both armies, Avinter presented a season- 
 able period of repose, and that both willingly accepted it. Nearly one 
 third of his army were in hospital, and hence Lord Wellington deemed 
 t'.iat rest for it was indispensable. Nor could his opponents avail them- 
 selves of this weakness, and continue active operations, for the French 
 supplies were insecure, and their bases of operation disturbed by Partida 
 bands, which were every where swarming on their flanks and in their 
 year. Indeed each army dreaded that the other would resume hosti- 
 lities ; and when a j-eport prevailed that Soult, who was upon the Upper 
 Tormes, meditated an invasion of Portugal by the valley of the Tagus, 
 and Wellington had, accordingly, removed the boat bridges at Almai-ez 
 and Arzobispo, the French, equally afraid that the allies might cross 
 tlie river, destroyed all means of passage at other points which the 
 English general had overlooked as unnecessaiy. 
 
 Such was the military position of the allies in the field — one that, 
 abroad, rendered the question of ulterior success an uncertainty ; while 
 at home, the failure before Burgos renewed loud expressions of discon- 
 tent, which the brilliant opening of the late campaign had partially 
 subdued. England was divided into two great sections ; one party 
 advocating the necessity of continuing the Spanish war, and another 
 decrying it as a ruinous experiment. What Salamanca had effected 
 in establishing the policy of maintaining the struggle on the Peninsula, 
 the retreat to the Agueda had undone ; and the balance of public 
 opinion respecting the expediency of abandoning the contest in Spain 
 Avas restored. " The ministerial party had expected far too much, 
 and consequently their disappointment was proportionate : the opposi- 
 tion had raised the wolf-cry n.ntil the countiy had ceased to dread it ; 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 259 
 
 and they caught desperately at what proved a last pretext, to reiterate 
 their denunciations, and abuse him who conducted, and those who 
 planned the war. Ministers were denounced for continuing the con- 
 test, and for starving it — Lord Wellington both for inactivity and for 
 rashness — for doing too little and too much"* — for wasting time at 
 Madrid, and for attempting a siege with means so inadequate, that 
 Botliing but an enormous expenditure of blood could possibly obtain 
 success. ' 
 
 But to the clamour of party and the calumny of faction, he, since happdy 
 surnamed " The Iron Duke," turned an indifferent ear ; and the same 
 proud feeling that on the heights of Guinaldo had sustained him, when 
 a less assured courage might, have faltered, enabled him now to regard 
 the malice of political opponents with contempt ; and, perfectly undis- 
 turbed, to dii'ect the energies of a master-mind to the completion of those 
 great means by which alone a great end could be accomplished. Pro- 
 liting by past experience, the internal economy of the ai-my underwent 
 a sweeping reformation. Abuses were sought for, detected, and 
 removed — every hospital was cleared of men who feigned illness to 
 evade duty — and from every depot idlers were driven back to the 
 columns they had abandoned. Supplies came liberally from England, 
 proving the illimitable resources of the island-home of freedom ; and 
 the great captain of the age Avas thus enabled to organize the most 
 splendid force that ever took the field — one, so perfect in eveiy arm, 
 as to waiTant its constructor, years afterwards, when the greater 
 Bumber of those gallant spirits who had composed it were sleeping in 
 the grave, to make the proud and proven boast — that " with that army 
 which had crossed the Pyrenees, he could do any thing and go any 
 where." Ko wonder that brilliant era of his life is still recalled in 
 cherished remembrance by the old Peninsular ; and as, deed after 
 deed, he details the conquering career of that matcldcss host, with 
 which he crossed the Agueda to halt only on the banks of the Garonne, 
 lie may raise his head Avith military pride, and exclaim, " Pars fui J " 
 
 Of two hundi-ed thousand men under the direct command of Lord 
 Wellington, the Anglo-Portuguese, amounting nearly to seventy-five 
 thousand bayonets and sabres, Avere the flower. From the first 
 moment of the Peniusidar contest, the British infantry had established 
 its superiority ; and noAv the cavalry and artillery Avere superb. Every 
 thing required for field service had been skilfully provided. A fine 
 pontoon train accompanied the army, and ambulances Avere provided for 
 the accommodation of the sick and wounded. Other means to increase his 
 comforts were also afforded to the soldier ; and, for the first time, tents 
 were supplied for shelter in the field, while the cumbrous camp-kettle 
 was replaced Avith others of smaller size, and lighter material, as better 
 adapted for all the purposes of campaigning. 
 
 During the suspension of active operations on both sides, and while 
 the French and Allied armies were quiet in their respective canton- 
 ments, that restless enemy, the Partida bands, Avei;e busily employed. 
 Longa, in the vicinity of Burgos, was actively engaged in harassing 
 
 * Maxwell's Life of Wellington, 
 s 2 
 
260 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 tlic marauding parties of the enemy, interrupting their eommnn.ications, 
 and surprising their detached posts ; while Mina, in Arragon and 
 Navarre, carried on a desultory warfare with equal success. Another 
 less celebrated but not less active leader was " the Friar," (ElFrayle,) 
 who, with a numerous band admirably organized, kept Valencia in con- 
 fusion. Indeed, the Guerillas had now become as formidable in numbers 
 as they had ever been audacious in their mode of warfare. No longer 
 confining their operations to the cutting oiF of foraging parties and the 
 interception of convoys, they fell upon strong detachments, and almost 
 invariably with success ; until at last no courier could pass the roads, 
 nor even a battalion of seven hundred men move from one garrison to 
 another, without the protection of an escort. Such was the military 
 attitude of Spain when I joined the fourth division. 
 
 In a dilapidated farm-house I found my future companions in arms 
 seated at a comfortable dinner, although a stranger looking mess room 
 was never occupied by gentlemen of the sword. It had been the 
 grand apartment of the dwelling of a farm proprietor; the house 
 was generally in ruins, but this wing had been judiciously selected 
 for the symposia of the gallant Twentieth, inasmuch as the roof 
 was nearly w^eather-fast. The table was a collection of old doors 
 placed upon temporary supporters ; and as every member of the body 
 politic furnished his own conveniency of sitting at " the board," the 
 especial method of accommodation depended on the ability or fancy of 
 the individual. Some, in superior luxury, had deposited their persons 
 on a camp-stool, while others were contented with a block of wood, 
 a basket, or a broken arm chest. The table appointments were not 
 unique, for every person found his own ; and nothing was held in 
 common property save the viands and the wine. 
 
 But a lighter-hearted community than the gallant Twentieth could 
 not have been discovered. The hardsliips of the retreat to the 
 Huebravrere still in vivid recollection ; and now, anticipating similar 
 privations, but attended by more glorious results, the present was 
 their only care ; and over the head of the master of tlie revels the 
 apposite motto " Carpe diem!" had been inscribed with a burnt 
 cork. Heralded by my loving countrym.an, I was introduced in terms 
 of commendation that brought the colour to my cheek. I received, 
 consequently, a warm and soldierly reception ; and before I retired to 
 a shake-down oftered me for the night in the tent of the junior major, 
 I called every man by an abbreviated name — or, at least, as many of 
 the batch as a memory, shghtly obfuscated, could manage to re- 
 member. 
 
 • "Upon my sov.d !" observed a short and snub-nosed captain, 
 with an accent redolent of " the far west," " that's dacent Avine ; and 
 the divil that brings it should be encouraged. — Here's your health, 
 O'Halloran ; and in return you'll call me Philbin, if you plase ; — 
 and now that the owld colonel's gone, may I live to see you senior 
 captain of the regiment, and then I know who'll command it, — and 
 that's myself." 
 
 To this delicate and disinterested compliment, I replied in suitable 
 terms. 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 2(31 
 
 " And wliat the devil keeps Peter Crottv ?" inquired a second. 
 
 Ignorant of the occasion of his absence, I inquired tlie causes from 
 my quondam friend, and learned that the absent gentleman had gone 
 up to head-quarters with certain regimental returns ; and that his re- 
 appearance had been eagerly expected, to ascertain what reliance might 
 bu^placed in the rumoured intelligence that an earlier commencement of 
 field operations might l)e looked for than the season could be supposed to 
 warrant. Peter Crotty, however, did not appear ; an hour passed — 
 the said Peter was cursed and envied according to the mood of the 
 individual ; it being universally resolved, that he, Peter, had popped 
 into some hospitable cantonijient, and got drunk for the honour of the 
 service. 
 
 "Lord ! what a congregation of lies Peter will have to get rid of 
 in the morning," said the captain of grenadiers. 
 
 " I beg your pardon — he'll deliver himself of the cargo in a 
 shorter time — for that's his cough, for a hundred ! " responded a 
 light-bob. 
 
 The lieutenant's ear Avas correct ; for in a few moments the 
 denounced absentee modestly presented himself. 
 
 Had our meeting been in Kamschatka, I should have claimed Peter 
 for a countryman at first sight. He Avas a stout, Avell-timbered 
 fellow, of soldierly setting-up, and, as far as appearance went, j^erfectly 
 content wath himself, and at peace with all the world. To say tliat he 
 was drunk, would not be true ; to assert him sober, might have raised 
 a controverted question : but leave it to the most charitable, and they 
 Avould frecdy admit that Peter Crotty, in Connemara parlance, "had 
 been looking at somebody drinking." 
 
 " Anv.h, astore!" observed Mr. Philbin ; '• may the divil be your 
 welcome ! Here have we been waiting these six hours, exjjecting a 
 little news — while you, no doubt, have visited every wine-house between 
 our quarters and Frenada. By this book I" and Captain Philbin raised 
 a horn drinking-vessel devoutly to his lips, " Pve a mind to report you 
 in the morning to Sir Lowry." 
 
 " Never listen to him, Peter," observed the grenadier; "you must 
 be thirsty after your long ride. — Put that down your neck fii'st, give 
 us some "fresh intelligence afterwards, and stick as close to the truth as 
 you can conveniently." And he presented to the new-comer a non- 
 descript tin vessel, filled to the brim with wine. 
 
 Peter Crotty had really been thirsty ; for he turned down the cup 
 to the very bottom. 
 
 " Arrah — what kept ye, Peter?" inquired the first speaker. 
 
 " What kept me ? — AVhy, business, and Lord "Wellington." 
 
 "Nonsense I" — 
 
 " It's true. Divil a one of me could get away, good nor bad ?" 
 
 "Any thing wrong in the returns ?" inquired the grenadier. 
 
 " Oh, sorra thing ; for lie gave us the height of ai)plause." 
 
 " Did the aide-de-camp tell you so ?" asked a listener. 
 
 " AVhat aide-de-camp ? — Don't I tell ye it was himself ? " observed 
 Lieutenant Crotty. 
 
 "Himself? Arrali— the divil an eye ye laid upon him, unless 
 
262 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 ye happened to see liim lighting off his horse," observed Captain 
 Pliilbin. 
 
 Peter Crotty answered this remark by a look of silent contempt. 
 
 " He's in for it," whispered my next neighbour, softly. " I'll back 
 him for a regular rigmarole of lies against any man in the Peninsula. 
 But we must humour him. Well, Peter, and was his lordship com- 
 monly civil ?" 
 
 " A pleasanter-spoken man I never was in company witli," Avas the 
 reply. 
 
 " And he did seem pleased with our morning-state ? — The aide-de- 
 camp told you that ? " 
 
 " Not at all ; it was his lordship, ' Crotty,' says he — " 
 
 " Oh I" whispered my friend the major, " that's conclusive. — All's 
 right when Peter uses the present personal." 
 
 " Ay ! ' Crotty,' says he," — observed another, " But you have had 
 a long ride ; so before you begin a longer story, take the cobAvebs from 
 your throat." 
 
 Again the tin cup was replenished — once more Peter Crotty 
 refreshed himself; and then to a very attentive auditory lie com- 
 menced the detail of a recent interview with the " great captain." 
 
 " Well, you see, I only got the returns from the orderly room at 
 twelve > and as I had ten miles to ride, oif the mide and myself 
 jogged immediately. Nothing particular occurred on the road, barrin' 
 I met Soames and Hamilton, and — 
 
 " Oh, d — n Soames and Hamilton ! " exclaimed two or three voices 
 together. 
 
 " Well, we had a drop of wine, and on I pushed without delay, — 
 except half an hour witli the Eighty-eighth ; and we liad a sort of a 
 lunch of an over-driven bullock, the rump-steak, — by-the-by, it was 
 cut off the fore-part of the shoulder, and as hard as the divil's horn. 
 — We had a throw of rum-and-water afterwards — " 
 
 " For one, read three,'' observed another of the audience. 
 
 " Well, I reached Frenada— rode up to the door — gave my mule to 
 an orderly — stept into the ante-room, and handed in the returns — " 
 
 " And, as the evening was wet, I suppose they allowed you to sit 
 down," said Captain Philbin. 
 
 Lieutenant Ci'otty turned a wrathful look upon the speaker, and then 
 continued his narrative. 
 
 " The door was open, and every word that passed Avlthin I heard 
 plainly." 
 
 " ' Arrah ! what's that ?' said his lordship. 
 
 " ' The morning-strength of the Twentieth, my lord,' replied the 
 aide-de-camp. 
 
 " ' Divil welcome the bearer ! ' says the general. ' Isn't it cruel hard, 
 that a man can't have a little pace and quiet, without tliis eternal bothera- 
 tion ? Tell the fellow to come to the door ; and ask him who he is.' 
 
 "Be gogstay I I made bold to answer, 'It's me. Lieutenant Crotty 
 — plase your lordship.' " 
 
 '"Crotty! — Crotty!' says he; 'Is it Peter Crotty, of the 
 Twentieth?' 
 
r 
 
 € 
 .i 
 
 I 
 
 ^ 
 
HECTOR o'ilALLORAN. 263 
 
 " ' The same, my lord,' says I. 
 
 " • Arrah, then,' replies the general, ' I wouUlu't for a thirty -sliillin'- 
 note ye had gone home, without my seeing ye, Peter, step in— and 
 be off, and shut the door alter ye,' says he to the aide-de-camp ; ' I'm 
 not at liome, if any one inquires this evening. And now, Crotty dear, 
 draw a camp-stool, and bring your heels to an anchor. — >s'ed,' says 
 he, for they called one another by their names ; ' hand ^Ir. Crotty a 
 glass. And now, Peter, raise y'er elboAv a trifle, and fill lair. Is 
 there any news astir ? ' 
 
 " ' Xothing,' says I, ' unless your lordship has it.' 
 " •■ Had ye anything to ate on the road ? ' says he. ' We could get 
 ye a broiled bone in half a jiffy.' 
 
 " ' Too much trouble,' says I, ' my lord ; I took a bit with the 
 Eighty-eiarhth, as I was coming along.' 
 
 " ' Oh f bad luck to the same la.ls. Sir Tliomas Picton,' says he. 
 ' They're makiu' an ould man of me, the thieves ! The divil himself 
 — Christ pardon us I wouldn't keep them tolerably reg'lar.' 
 '' He didn't say ' Christ pardon us ! ' Peter." 
 
 " He did," returned the narrator. " Do you think that he stopped to 
 pick and choose his words in the company of friends ?" 
 " Well, go on Peter." • 
 
 " All this time, Sir Thomas, and General Packenham, never said a 
 word ; but, like a priest after confessions, they lathered away at the 
 drinking." 
 
 " ' DkI you hear lately from y'er family ?' says his lordship to me, 
 " ' Arrjih ! the devil a scrape I had from L'eland these nine months,' 
 says I. 
 
 " ' I see what y'er lockin' at,' says he, as he caught me throwin' a 
 sheep's eye over at a card-table in the corner — ' are you for a rubber, 
 Peter, to help us to put in the evening?' 
 
 •' 'Feaksl my lord,' says I, ' Pd be afeard, as Pm rather out of 
 practice.' 
 
 " 'Make it five an' ten,' says he ; ' y'er the divil at that, no doubt, 
 as the boy said his mother was at the praying. Come, Ned,' says he, 
 ' down with y'er dust, and we'll cut for who'll have Peter Crotty ;' 
 and by my soul, up comes a red knave. ' By the powers of pewter, 
 Peter, ye'er ray own I' says my lord. 
 
 " ' Oh, then, y'er welcome to him, if he was better,' says Sir Tliomas. 
 And he seemed cross at losing me. 
 
 " ■\;V'ell — my Lord desired Ned Packenb.am to make us a tumbler 
 each— and down we sit ; — ^myself as stiff as a new-made quarter- 
 master, although, if God's truth was told, I hadn't a skurrick in my 
 pocket to mark the game with. 
 
 " ' Here's luck !' says his lordship, finishin' his tumbler at a pull. 
 I forgot to mention, tliat Sir Thomas stuck to the sherry, and Ned 
 Packenham helped himself to a sketch of brandy in the bottom of a, 
 glass, and took it nate, without water. 
 
 " AVell, I cuts a black deuce, so the dale was mine ; and up turns 
 the ace of hearts afterwards. His lordship winked his left eye when he 
 saw it. ' Be the powers,' says his lordship, 'your mother must have 
 
264 THE FORTU^•ES OF 
 
 l>ceii iu" the yeomen, or she'd never have had such a son ! Many a 
 Sunday ye phiy'd cards upon a tombstone instead of goin' to mass ; God 
 forgive ye for the same, Peter!'" 
 
 " Colonel Burn wants Lieutenant Crotty immediately," said a mess 
 waiter from the door. 
 
 " Oh, holy Mary ! — I forgot to report myself ! — and, may be, 
 I won't catch it from the ould lad ?" exclaimed the partner of Lord 
 "Wellington, as he sprang from the barrel he was seated on, and 
 bounded after the messenger in desperate alarm, while a roar of 
 laughter accompanied his hurried exit. A doch an durrh, for we 
 were all Scotch and Irish intermixed, passed from hand to hand, for 
 the departui'e of Lieutenant Crotty appeared to be the signal for a 
 general dispersion ; and I accompanied the hospitable friend who had 
 offered me a sleeping corner in his tent. 
 
 Presently, the cantonments became quiet, and light after light 
 disappeared. Within musket range, five thousand men were sleeping, 
 and yet not a sound was heard but the measured step of "the relief" 
 as it went its rounds, or the loud challenge of the sentry, answered 
 by a whispered countersign. To me, this seemed the opening of a 
 new epoch in my life. I now felt myself a soldier. The camp 
 was to be my future home ; and, stretched around me, lay the 
 victors of many a field, with whom, side by side, I was to view, for 
 the first time, the flash of " red artillery." My couch was fern, my 
 pillow a bullock trunk ; and, wrapped in my cloak, I sought the 
 balmy visit of the drowsy god, but sought it vainly. A feverish 
 excitement had banished sleep, and I could not but envy the profound- 
 ness of my companion's repose, whose heavy breathing, a minute after 
 the brief petition of " God bless us !" had passed his lips, told how 
 sound were his slumbers. I dosed at last — dreamed of siege and 
 battle-field, while gentler thoughts floated at times among these 
 martial visions, and love and war were singularly blended. Day 
 dawned, a bugle sounded, the drums beat the reveUlee, and instantly 
 the camp, hitherto so silent, was all life and' bustle, like an alarmed 
 bee-hive, as the startled soldiery issued from tent and hovel. In a 
 few minutes each regiment formed on its respective parade ; and the 
 fourth division was reported under arms, as a horseman, attended 
 by an orderly dragoon, galloped along the front of the cantonment. 
 On reaching the flank of the line, he reined up his horse and rode 
 slowly past, directing an eagle glance at every regiment that composed 
 tlie division. The drums rolled, arms were presented, and I had no 
 difficulty in recognising in the plainly-dressed stranger, one who had 
 already divided the attention of the world with the great Napoleon — 
 the victor of Assaye — the hero of Salamanca — Lord Wellington ! 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 26: 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 A SPANISH INX THE EMPECIXADO — AND A SURPRISE. 
 
 " True courage grows ia proportion to the increase of danger." 
 
 ***** 
 " This arm shall make a corpse of him who hesitates when danger 
 calls, or retreats when it presses."— The Eoebers. 
 
 Having brought two oi- three letters of introduction to some veteran 
 soldiers who served with nij father in the Low Countries, the delivery 
 of each ensured me a hospitable welcome at their respective canton- 
 ments. A month had nearly been consumed in rambling visits, when 
 it was officially intimated, that as the armies were preparing for active 
 operations, the presence of every officer would be expected at the 
 head-quarters of his regiment. "With deep regret I made all arrange- 
 ments for a journey to Valencia ; and having procured mules and a 
 guide to secure the transport of the persons and property of my foster- 
 brother and myself, I set out at dawn of day, on the 7th of March, to 
 pass through Toledo and Cuenca, and reach the head-quarters of the 
 Anglo- Sicilian army, to which my regiment was attached. 
 
 The route lay between the French outposts on one side, and a hilly 
 country on the other, infested by Partida bands ; and, sooth to say, it 
 would have been difficult to decide on which hand lay the greater 
 danger. From the French scouting-parties it would be desirable to 
 preserve a respectful distance ; and for Guerilla civility, we should be 
 mainly indebted to the protection afforded by a British uniform. 
 
 As the head-quarters of the south were established at Toledo, the 
 enemy's posts were extended over the country in front of tliat city, to 
 keep open the communications, and enable their foragers to bring in 
 any supplies they could obtain. Hence, these roads were rendered 
 dangerous by the constant visits of French pickets and marauders ; 
 and, by the advice of our friend the muleteer, we leaned towards the 
 mountains on our right, after we had crossed the Ibor by an unguarded 
 ford below the Hospital del Obispo. 
 
 From the moment that we cleared the cantonments of the allies, our 
 route assumed a dangerous character that gave it an additional interest. 
 It ran through a debatable land, subject alike to flying visits from the 
 allied cavalry, French scouting parties, and guerillas ; while, here and 
 there, a few disbanded men, of every country and calling, were occasion- 
 ally encountered, who stopped the wayfarer, be he Trojan orTyrian, with 
 a lofty-minded impartiaUty worthy of the scjJDol and spirit of Jack 
 
266 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Sheppard, easing liim of life and purse togetlier, witliout any imper- 
 tinent inquiry of, '* Under whieh king, Bezonian ?" In plain English, 
 from robbers of high and low degree, the routes connecting Estx-emadura 
 with Valencia were rendered almost impassable ; and it was nearly a 
 toss-up to the traveller, whether the person who called " Stand and 
 deliver," was brigand, forager, or partida. 
 
 Though the roads were heavy and tlie rivers swollen, ye't, as the 
 weather was remarkably fine, for a few days the fosterer and I 
 roughed it pretty comfortably. It was a new passage in the life of 
 both — and full of youthful vigonr, and eager for adventure, we got on 
 gallantly. 
 
 On the fifth evening we reached a little hamlet pleasantly situated on 
 the river Sedana. Here, the muleteer had several acquaintances, and 
 the owner of the posada was his cousin. Our journey that day had been 
 imusually long ; and, therefore, the intelligence tliat a good supper and 
 snug shake-down awaited us on our arrival at Villa Mora, was particu- 
 larly gratifying. As we wound down the mountains, the sun set, the 
 vesper-bell was heard, and the village lights sparkled through the haze 
 of evening. "We urged our mules forward to gain the hdting-place, 
 as the sky, for the last hour, had presented certain appearances, which 
 the guide apprised us were always considered to be forerunners of a 
 tempest. 
 
 We passed through the village street and alighted at the door of 
 the posada, where M^e were hospitably received, and inducted to a 
 large and lofty apartment, which answered the double purpose of 
 kitchen and parlour. Fuel was added to the fire, and due preparations 
 made for further entertainment. As the guide had predicted, the 
 night became wild and wet ; and, accounting om-selves to be most 
 fortunate travellers in gaining our shelter before the storm burst, we 
 took a position on a settle where we could enjoy the comfort of a 
 blazing wood-fire ; and, what was equally agreeable to hungry way- 
 farers, personally inspect culinary operations while supper was in 
 progress. 
 
 An hour passed — the table was spread — and the muleteer, having 
 stabled his long-eared charge, entered the kitchen, and seated himself 
 at the foot of the board. The host deposited a huge leathern bottle in 
 the centre of the table, which, as he avouched, contained wine of 
 exquisite vintage, and the meal was about to commence, when a 
 trampling of horses' feet was heard without, and the landlord rose 
 hastily, and, with every appearance of alarm, peeped suspiciously from 
 the casement. 
 
 " Three travellers," he exclaimed, " by San Marco. The Virgin 
 be praised ; I feared some of those French robbers had returned once 
 more, and that we should be plundered bv them for the hundredth 
 time." 
 
 I rose and looked out, but it was too dark to discover who the late 
 visitors might be. One seemed superior to the others ; for he fiung 
 the bridle of his horse to a companion with an air of authority, and 
 quitting the court-yard, entered the kitchen of the posada. 
 
 He was evidently a gentleman of little ceremony; for he stalked 
 
'^■Z^ ^'-^y'■ /7^^^ . /<--'— i. 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 267 
 
 direct to the fire— threw his sombrero carelessly to the attendant — 
 desired the landlord to hang up his cloak to dry— unbuckled a belt, 
 to which a long toledo Was suspended— deposited a carbine and brace 
 of pistols on a bench — and then took a seat at the head of the table, 
 with as much indifterence as if he had been the host himself. 
 
 TMien disencumbered of hat and cloak, the very singular air and 
 figure of the stranger fastened my attention. His face would have 
 puzzled Lavater — it was one that you could not look upon without a 
 nameless feeling of suspicion and alarm, and yet, take each alone, and 
 the features were positively handsome. Hair, eyes, moustache and 
 beard, were black as the raven's wing ; and the complexion, dark as a 
 gypsy's. The face was well-proportioned — the teeth white and 
 regular— I never looked on an eye more lustrous, searching, and 
 intelhgent ; and the forehead was nobly expanded. But the ensemble 
 was the worst. It bespoke a stern determination, close akin to 
 ferocity ; and betrayed a disposition, stern of purpose — ardent in 
 regard — immitigable in vengeance. 
 
 The stranger's figure was athletic and commanding — sufliciently 
 substantial for any feat of strength, and yet not too cumbrous in its 
 proportions for light and active exercise. His under dress was plain. 
 He wore a close green jacket and pantaloons, with tawny boots and a buflt" 
 waist-belt, in which a weapon, like a highland dirk with a buck's-horn 
 handle, was secured. Such was the exterior of our new companion. 
 
 While I examined the stranger with deep attention, a hurried look, 
 on liis part, round the table, appeared to satisfy his curiosity touching^ 
 the company to whom he had introdilced himself. His assumption of 
 superiority was at once apparent ; and, with the easiest manner 
 imaginable, he usurped a regular dictatorship of the venta. Raising 
 the drinking-vessel that stood beside his platter, he signalled the land- 
 lord to fill it from the goat-skin, and at one strong draught emptied 
 it to the bottom, and indulged, afterwards, in observations more remark- 
 able for candour than compliment, touching the cellars of the posada. 
 "Bah I" he exclaimed, contemptuously, "call ye that thin liquid, 
 true Carvallos? Hast thou no conscience left thee, man? 'Tis well 
 enough wherewithal to wash a supper doAvn ; but see, honest friend, 
 that you find us something better for the evening. Ha!— this podnda's 
 passable ; and these partridges seem tolerably roasted. On with more 
 viands. Two friends of mine will presently be here. They have good 
 appetites; have ridden twenty leagues, and fasted as many hours. 
 Need I say more ? " 
 
 Whoever the stranger was, his orders were not disregai-ded. The 
 maritornes of the venta renewed her culinary labours ; and the host 
 voluntarily departed to see that the horses of the late guests had been 
 properly accommodated, and make researches in his wine-stores, after- 
 wards, to try Avhether a flask more congenial to the taste of the dark 
 stranger might not be procurable. The latter, towards myself and 
 foster'-brother,evinced from the first, decided symptoms of civility : and 
 among us three there appeared to be a friendly rivalsliip as to which 
 of us should hold out longest at the podrida. Were the hostleries in 
 the Peninsula frecpiently obnoxious to such visitors as we proved, 
 
268 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 I verily believe that half the innkeepers iu Spain would have been 
 insolvent in a twelvemonth. 
 
 '• Faith, gentlemen," observed the strangev, " to judge by the per- 
 formances of each other, we seem all in excellent health. No sauce 
 lor supper after all, like a twelve hours' ride thi-ough the mountains. 
 What, ho I Sir landlord ! Wine — I say ; and none of that valuable 
 vintage you keep for muleteers and travelling friars, Avho pay their 
 scores in aves and credos. What neu-s, gentlemen?" he said, 
 addressing us, " What is the English Lord about ; and will he soon 
 be on the move again ? " 
 
 I assured him that on these points I was in blessed ignorance — told 
 the simple tale of iny journey to Valencia, and its causes — and, in 
 return, asked his advice touching which route I should adopt, as the 
 one most likely to be free from the French. 
 
 " You could not have made that inquiry from a better person," he 
 replied. " I know the mountain country indifferently well ; and if 
 you place yourself under my guidance, I shall ensure your safety to 
 Cuenca. Thence, to Valencia, I shall be able to obtain a passport that 
 the partidas will respect. Ha ! I see my companions have scented 
 supper in the stable. Sit down, Jose ; thou and Velasquez have seen 
 more than a single cork-tree since you heard the matin-bell." 
 
 Following the example of their chief, the strangers deposited their 
 mantles and sombreros on a bench. Both were well armed ; and each 
 placed his weapons immediately contiguous to his seat, like men who 
 dread and guard against sur})rise. 
 
 I thought nothing could have exceeded our late attack upon mine 
 host's partridges and podrida. Pshaw! — as trenchermen, we could 
 not hold a candle to the worthy twain, who now went to work as if 
 they had been steadfastly resolved to clear out the posada of every 
 edible it contained. 
 
 At last they, too, were forced to cry, " enough ;" and we all 
 united in a closer circle round the fii-e, while the wine-flask made a 
 frequent circuit of the company. Dark and repulsive as the stranger's 
 countenance might be, as '• sweetest nut has sourest rind," he seemed 
 at heart an excellent camarado. Indeed, we were no longer strangers. 
 I spoke unreservedly — told him my objects and intentions — and, in 
 return, obtained counsel and information. It struck me as being 
 remarkable hov/ very intimately the stranger seemed acquainted with 
 the cantonments occupied by the allies, and the facility with which he 
 named the strength and formation of every corps that occupied them. 
 Touching the positions of the French armies, he was equally well 
 informed — and, with the Spanish dispositions, perfectly familiar. 
 
 " Ho — ho !" he exclaimed, holding the empty flask between him 
 and the lamp ; " the bottle's dry. More wine, there ! Come, gen- 
 tlemen," he said, " I shall play host to-night. I felt it rather an 
 uncertainty this morning, Avhether I should have found the posada 
 tenanted by friends or enemies ; but the doubt has been agreeably 
 resolved." 
 
 As he spoke, the landlord entered — placed a flask upon the table — 
 and, having extracted the cork, was preparing to retire, when the 
 
HECTOR o'HALLORAN. 2G9 
 
 dark stranger motioned him to sit down ; an invitation, which it 
 appeared to me "mine host" would rather have declined than accepted. 
 " Fill thy horn," said the master of the revels ; " I would ask a 
 few questions. There are none present Lut those to whom a true 
 Spaniard need never be afraid to unbosom himself. In that jacket lie 
 honour and good faith." He pointed to my uniform. " And for my 
 friends, I will be their security." 
 
 I never, in my life, saw a host less flattered with a guest's civility. 
 He took a seat— filled a cup — drank our good health — and appeared 
 excessively uncomfortable. 
 
 " Your name, my friend, is, I think, Gonsalvez — and I would ask 
 some questions touching some of your acquaintances in Villa Moro. 
 Speak out ; and — " the stranger lowered his voice to a deep tone, that 
 made me shudder— " what is more to the purpose, spealc truth!" 
 
 The landlord winced — while my dark-visaged friend, in a careless 
 voice, continued — 
 
 " You had occasional visits from the French cavalry during the 
 winter. There was a squadron of the 5th chasseurs a cheval here for 
 a month. Where did their commandant reside?" 
 
 " He quartered himself at the alcade's," returned the host. 
 " Did he ever visit the postmaster?" asked the stranger. 
 " Frequently," was the reply. 
 " "What age is Jose de Toro ?" 
 " Sixty — or more," returned the host. 
 " And what the age of his wife ?" 
 " Younger by forty years," was the reply. 
 ^ " Then'jose de Toro was a fool to marry as he did. Was Captain 
 Hillaire particularly intimate with the lady?" 
 
 ■ " They said — but, Lord ! in a village they say many things that are 
 not true — they said that the poor postmaster was almost jealous. After 
 a little time the scandal wore away ; and Jose de Toro and Captain 
 Hillaire were the best friends imaginable." 
 
 " Base villain!" muttered the dark stranger, between his clenched 
 teeth. "Well, my friend, if the alcade and postmaster found the 
 society of the French so agreeable, how did the Cura feel?" 
 
 " He never could disguise his hatred ; and for some days he was 
 kept in close arrest, until the pi'etty wife of Jose Toro pleaded to the 
 handsome captain for her old confessor, and obtained his liberty." 
 
 '•' Humph !" said the stranger. — '• What is the nearest post that is 
 at present occupied by th.e French cavalry ? " 
 
 " The nearest ! — praise to the Virgin ! — I have heard from a ivc- 
 veller is at Arcanza — some half score leagues from Toro." 
 
 " 'Tis well," muttered the stranger. — " Get me a trusty messenger ; 
 and mind that he be tnisfj/ — or—" he looked the rest, the landlord 
 perfectly understanding it. Egad ! I never saw anything more ex- 
 pressive ; it was a look that conveyed more than any language could 
 express. One of his companions rose, and looked from the casement. 
 " How soon," he said, " the storm has abated ! The moon has risen ; 
 and a finer night to take a hurried march and surprise a sleeping out- 
 post could not be found." 
 
270 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " I wish it were otherwise," returned he who seemed the leader. 
 *' And yet ten leagues from a French picket, methinks, is tolerable 
 security. Go, Velasquez, — and see that this packet be sent forward, 
 safely and swiftly. For his messenger's iidelity I hold the landlord 
 accountable. Tell him that ; — and whisper in his ear, that the guest 
 
 he entertains to-night is " His voice dropped, but a smile of 
 
 sinister expression told the rest. 
 
 From a secret pocket the dark stranger di-ew out a splendid watch. 
 " Past midnight. Come, gentlemen, one round more, and then for 
 bed : we must all be astir by cock-crow." 
 
 The bottle for the last time made its circuit. Velasquez returned 
 after despatching the packet, accompanied by the host beai-iug a 
 lamp. He conducted us to a long gallery, containing at least sleeping 
 apai'tments for a dozen ; but the only occupants that night were the 
 strangers, the fosterer, and myself. Where the muleteer bestowed 
 himself I knew not ; but subsequent events sufficiently explained the 
 reason why we were not fovoured Avith his company. 
 
 No stronger proof of caution and insecurity could be required than 
 the care with which each individual arranged his clothes and arms. 
 Every weapon was placed in a position to be ready for the owner's 
 hand ; while the business of the toilet was dispensed Avith altogethei-, as 
 we all stretched ourselves on our Avoollen beds without undressing. 
 The Spaniards crossed themselves devoutly ; the fosterer repeated a 
 short prayer ; I cried " God bless us I" and in ten minutes all within 
 the spacious chamber slept profoundly. 
 
 Several hours must have elapsed, and still my slumbers continued 
 unbroken. Suddenly an uneasy dream disturbed me, and I started 
 upright on the mattress. The lamp was burning gloomily ; and the 
 sleepers round the chamber were fast as watchmen. I listened — 
 noises low and indistinct without excited my attention. The sounds 
 were such as men make when they attempt to move unheard. I glided 
 out of bed, and peeped cautiously from the lattice. By Heaven ! — 
 the court-yard was fiUed v>'ith dismounted di-agoons, and one glance 
 told me that they were enemies. 
 
 The elder Spaniard lay on the bed next to mine, and I laid my hand 
 softly on his arm. In a moment his dark eyes were turned suspiciously 
 on mine, as I stooped my head and whispered that we were betrayed. 
 He heard the intelligence without any apparent emotion, slipped 
 quietly from his couch, and looked for a moment on the court-yard. 
 I heard him muttering to himself, '• Ten — fifteen — tv.-enty — forty in 
 all : the odds are great, and we, too, cut off from the stables. Ha I — 
 let me think — there's but one hope — the gate first — the river after- 
 wards — ay, there Ues the only chance of our deliverance." 
 
 Flitting from couch to couch, he awakened his sleeping companions. 
 They seemed to be men accustomed to similar visitations, for not an 
 exclamation escaped their lips, nor even by a word did they betray the 
 least alarm. A finger, pointed towai*ds the casement told its silent 
 tale ; and each, as he arose, peeped from the window on the moon-lit 
 court-yard, and immediately comprehended the extent of his danger. 
 In a minute every man was ai'med and ready for the coming struggle j 
 
HECTOIl HALLORAN. 271 
 
 and we looked to the diirk guerilla for orders, as soldiers to their 
 leader, 
 
 " In a position like ours, safety consists in daring. Xo matter how 
 great the dispai-ity in numbers, we must not wait to be attacked ; 
 but push, at the sword's point, for the gate — reacli the river if possible 
 — spring boldly in, and trust to the Sedana for our freedom. One 
 word more — if you can — escape ; — but if tlie hour is come, fall sword 
 in hand, and let the dying effort be vengeance on the oppressor. 'Tis 
 time for action. Strike bravely, my friends : in every blow lies death 
 or freedom. And now for the attempt : in five minutes tiie Empeci- 
 nado will be a lifeless corpse, or free as the mountain eagle I " 
 
 •• And are you that dreaded chief?" I inquired. 
 
 " I am indeed Juan Martin Diez : he whose dreaded by-name has 
 carried terror with it to the boldest enemy of Spain ; who lived the 
 scourge of the oppressor, and will die, inflicting injury while his hand 
 can hold a sword, and venting his last breath in curses upon those who 
 would have enslaved him I" 
 
 We drew up silently behind the entrance of the posada ; all the bolts 
 save one were quietly withdrawn, and that one the Empecinado held. 
 Presently a man approached, struck the door loudly, and in a haughty 
 tone demanded instant admission. IS'ever was order more promptly 
 obeyed. The Spaniard removed the last fastening — the door was sud- 
 denly flung open ; a discharge from the cai"bine of the Empecinado 
 laid the nearest Frenchman dead upon the threshold wliere he stood ; 
 Avhile bounding from his concealment like a tiger on his himters, the 
 guerilla chief sprang headlong among a group of the chasseurs, cutting 
 down a trooper right and left, and shouting in a voice of thunder, 
 " Guerra al Cuchillo!" 
 
 A sudden onslaught from desperate men is always formidable ; and 
 the enemy, never imagining that those whom they expected to surprise, 
 v»-oidd resist, still less attack, a numerous and Avell appointed detach- 
 ment, were quite unprepared to oppose this unexpected iiTuption from 
 the posada. The guerillas fought M-ith the recklessness of men who 
 feel that they must succeed or perish ; while, as circumstances occa- 
 sionally make heroes, the fosterer and I, considering that in a close 
 and furious melee there is no respect for persons, imitated the 
 example of our worthy confreres, and, as I was afterwards informed, 
 made a very promising debut. The aftair was short and sanguinary. 
 Before the Fi-ench could recover from the surprise, nearly a dozen 
 were killed, wounded, or beaten down ; the gate was gained, and for 
 escape, the chances were decidedly in our favour. 
 
 But, as it unfortunately turned out, a part only of the French de- 
 tachment had entered the court -yard of the posada, while an equal 
 number remained mounted outside the gate. The sudden uproar from 
 within put the outliers on the qui vive, and consequently they were 
 ready to receive us. Surprised, but nothing daunted, the Empecinado 
 and his companions fought with desperate ferocity ; and the French cry 
 of "Down with the brigands !" was fiercely answered by the Spanish 
 slogan, " War to the knife !" 
 
 The conflict now was hopeless ; each of us was engaged with three 
 
27'2 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 or four chasseurs, some mounted and some on foot. I had seen the 
 commencement of the fray, but, as is the frequent fortune of Avar, I 
 was not fated to witness its termination. A blow from the butt of a 
 carbine stretelied me upon mother earth — and when my senses returned, 
 I found myself a prisoner, and in the same apartment of the Venta, 
 where on the preceding night I had sujiped in perfect comfort and 
 security. 
 
 I looked round — the room was filled with soldiers — and the only 
 faces I could recall to memorj', were the dark and sullen countenances 
 of the two companions of the Empecinado, who were seated on a bench 
 immediately in my front, closely hand-cuffed to each qther. Both had 
 received divers sword-cuts on the head ; and their coal-black hair, 
 matted with blood, added to a ferocious expression of the features, 
 afforded a perfect picture of a captive brigand. Upon the wounded 
 partidas, looks of deadly vengeance were directed by all who surrounded 
 them. Many of the chasseurs had been wounded ; and in the recent 
 affair, five of their companions had fallen ; and one, whom they all 
 regarded, the second in command, and a young officer of great promise, 
 had been stabbed to the heart by the Empecinado. 
 
 " Where am I ? "Where are my companions ?" I muttered. 
 
 " Escaped !" returned one of the wounded guerillas, with savage 
 exultation. " Escaped, my friend ; to take ample vengeance for thee 
 and me upon these -murderers." 
 
 " Silence ! dog ;" exclaimed a chasseur, striking the captive a sharp 
 bloAV upon the shoulder with the flat of his sabre-blade. 
 
 I never witnessed such a look as the insultedj but impotent guerilla 
 directed at the Frenchman. Could rage, and hatred, and revenge, be 
 concentrated in a glance, that look expressed them all. 
 
 " Oh, that this hand -were free," he murmured ; " and that it 
 clutched the knife that never failed it yet; and then, robber — ." He 
 left the sentence incomplete ; but none required further v/ords to 
 convey its purport. 
 
 A noise Avithout, was heard. It Avas the " measured step of march- 
 ing men ;" and in a few minutes the elite companies of the 16th 
 Voltigeurs, entered and piled arms in the court-yard. Whatever Avas 
 the cause of this military movement, its scale seemed far too extensive 
 for the mere purpose of arresting two or three individuals A\dio had 
 made themselves obnoxious to the invaders ; and this suspicion was 
 confirmed, Avhen it was announced that Colonel La Coste, the chief of 
 General Laval's staff, had arrived in person, to direct the promenade 
 viUitaire, as the Frenchman termed this midnight expedition. 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE EXECUTION. 
 
 " Charles. Be not afraid of danger or of death ; for over us pre- 
 sides a destiny, ■which cannot be controlled. We all hasten to the 
 fatal day ; die we must, whether upon a bed of down, the field of 
 battle, or the scaffold ; one of these must be our lot." 
 
 The Robbers. 
 
 A FEW minutes elapsed, -when a movement among the soldiers near 
 the door attracted my attention, and Colonel La Coste, attended by 
 several officers of inferior rank, entered the kitchen of the posada. 
 The commander was a soldier of the republican school ; a hale, stout, 
 man of sixty ; one who, like the best of the French officers, had risen 
 by merit from the ranks, without family, descent, wealth, or educa- 
 tion. The honest boast of La Coste was, that he had been the 
 architect of his own fortunes, and had raised himself to distinction. 
 The colonel was highly esteemed as a soldier ; but, if the times when 
 his career commenced are remembered, it may be readily supposed that 
 La Coste was loose in his moral principles, cold to human suffering, 
 and indifferent, provided the end were gained, as to the means that 
 he employed in attaining it. The sternest hearts have generally some 
 softer point that unites them to their fellow men, and the rude soldier's 
 was no exception. That solitary place in his affections was occupied 
 by the orphan of his sister; Henri le Fevre was the sole object of the 
 love and ambition of the old republican — and, dead to others, the young 
 lieutenant of chasseurs was dearer to that cold-hearted soldier than all 
 the world beside. In the career of life, the most unpitying do not 
 escape mortal visitations, which force the heart to feel. Henri had 
 perished in the recent affair — and the misery that he himself had 
 probably inflicted upon others, was about to fall on the head of one, 
 whom sympathy for human suffering had never turned from a purpose 
 Avhicli he conceived that duty pointed out. 
 
 When he entered the apartment, he appeared excited and out of 
 temper, muttering to himself a^ he approached the fire, and then, 
 tui-ning short round, he drew himself up haughtily between the mana- 
 cled guerillas and myself. 
 
 " So," he said, sarcastically, " Captain St. Pierre, methinks, 
 to-night you have had but indifferent success. Five soldiers lost, the 
 great brigand escaped, and these paltry scoundrels, fit only for hang- 
 ing in teiTorem at a market-place, the sole fruits of a bloody, and, as it 
 
 T 
 
2/4 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 has turned out, a bootless expedition ! How could this possibly 
 occur ? — a squadron of chasseurs, checked, defeated, by some half 
 dozen — call them not soldiers — but banditti ! Ay, Captain St. Pierre, 
 defeated! Has not the only captive we aimed at escaped ye ? Except 
 as examples to the peasantry, these fellows are not worth the snap- 
 ping of a flint — or value of a halter. Is not this failure — defeat ?" 
 
 " Colonel La Coste," returned the captain of chasseurs, " much 
 of what you say is true. We counted with too great confidence upon 
 surprise, and overlooked the danger that lies in desperation. It has, 
 indeed, turned out a sorry i^rovienade — little gained, and much, 
 unfortunately, lost !" 
 
 " Where did the brigands escape to ? — where did they seek shelter ? 
 — why were they not pursued ?" continued Colonel La Coste, speaking 
 with breathless rapidity. 
 
 " The Empecinado, with one companion, have fivirly got away," 
 replied Captain St. Pierre ; " the other three are in your presence." 
 
 " The other three !" exclaimed Colonel La Coste, contemptuously — 
 " Bah ! — what matters the capture of these small scoundrels, when 
 the greater bandits have escaped? Have they indeed got off? and 
 how, in the devil's name, did they effect it ? " 
 
 " I would half believe, through the especial assistance of the black 
 gentleman. To steel and lead they seemed impervious, or they never 
 could have been proof against one hundred shots and sword-cuts. By 
 Heaven ! their escape appears miraculous ! They gained the river, 
 plunged into the swollen stream, and under a biting fire, while bullet 
 after bullet struck the Avater before and behind, they reached the 
 opposite bank imhurt, scrambled up the bank, and were instantly lost 
 in the thick cover of yonder cork-wood." 
 
 " Were they not followed, hunted, pursued ? Is Henri after them?" 
 inquired the colonel, with impatience ; but the question was unan- 
 swered. " Speak, St. Pierre ! — where is my nephew ? — close on the 
 brigands' footsteps ? " 
 
 The captain shook his head. 
 
 " What mean ye ? " exclaimed the old republican ; '' Is he hurt, or 
 wounded ? " 
 
 " Worse—" 
 
 " Worse !— what, dead ?" 
 
 " Dead ! " was the suppressed reply. 
 
 " How ? — when ? — where ? I know the worst ; — go on, St. Pierre." 
 
 " Colonel La Coste, my heart bleeds to tell the story. Henri, your 
 adopted son, and our beloved companion, is, indeed, no more ! The 
 felon leader, who has escaped us for the present, singled your nephew 
 out and stabbed him ! " 
 
 " Great God ! — Henri ! — my son, my hope, my pride, fallen — and 
 thus to fall ! Die in the court-yard of an obscure posada, and perish 
 ingloriously like a peasant in a drunken brawl — Henri ! Henri !" 
 
 A long and melancholy pause succeeded. 
 
 " Where is my nephew ? " exclaimed the old man, suddenly. 
 
 " Here," returned Captain St. Pierre, and his voice ftdt^red. 
 
 " Well, let me see thee, Henri, even though it be in death." 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 27o 
 
 When I had been removed into the posada, I was for some time in- 
 sensible to everything- that passed, and, nnknown to me, the body of the 
 young lieutenant had been carried in, deposited on a bench immediately 
 beside me, and covered with a military cloak. Some of the chasseurs 
 Avho stood between me and the dead officer, now moved aside, and 
 others bi'ought lights, while the covering should be removed, and the 
 veteran " look his last" upon the only being whom he loved. 
 
 In post mortem experience I was a novice. Of course, like every 
 Irish boy who made his entrea on the world five and forty years ago, 
 I had seen a criminal hanged, and a gentleman shot occasionally. 
 To do him justice, old Doctor Dozey, " our very learned and approved 
 good master," was an indulgent and considerate divine ; and as the 
 school was in an assize town, where hanging-matches and aifairs of 
 honour came oflf frequently, we were always, on such occasions, 
 favoured with a half-holiday, to enable us to have a sly peep at the pro- 
 ceedings. Although I had often been " in at the death," yet with the 
 exception of Mr. Sloman, I had never seen the defunct after this 
 mortal coil had been shuffled off; and hence the appeiu'ance of the 
 countenance, where death had been violent, was new to me. I turned 
 my eyes to the bench where the body of the Frenchman lay, and, for 
 many a day afterwards, the dead man's face Avas painfully recollected. 
 
 I was told that the departed soldier had been considered particularly 
 handsome, but looking at his countenance after death, I never could 
 have imagined it. Its expression was that of one whose spirit had 
 departed in intense agony, and every feature was distorted. I saw his 
 companions shudder as they looked upon the corpse ; and, after one 
 hurried glance, the old colonel turned his eyes away, and signed to a 
 chasseur to replace the cloak, which had been removed to permit him 
 to view the body of his favourite nephew. 
 
 " Now for another duty," the old man muttered. " Place these 
 prisoners before me !" and, drawing himself stiffly up with bis back 
 to the fire, he remained in gloomy meditation, while the guerillas and 
 myself were conducted from our benches, and drawn up in front of a 
 judge from whom, were the countenance an index of the heart, little 
 mercy could be hoped for. 
 
 " Who are ye ? " he said, addressing himself to me ; " you wear rai 
 English uniform — stolen from the living, or stripped from the dead ? — 
 say which." 
 
 " Neither," I returned, boldly ; " mine is the dress that my rank 
 entitles me to wear — I am a British officer." 
 
 " And wherefore the companion of brigands ? Why are you the 
 confederate of these murderers ? " 
 
 " I am not their companion," was the reply ; " I knew not who cr 
 what they were. By accident I met them here last night." 
 
 " You knew them not, and yet you ate with them, drank witli them, 
 fought with them." 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " You shot a French chasseur, and cut down a second, as I am 
 informed." 
 
 " It is true ; these tilings I did in order to effect escape." 
 
 T 2 
 
276 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " Then, did you not meet these bandits here by previous appoint- 
 ment ? Are you not a sjjy — ha ?" exclaimed the colonel. 
 
 " No — this posada lay directly in my route, as I was bound for 
 Valencia. Chance brought these men and myself together, and I 
 knew nothing of their designs, their names, nor their occupations. On 
 this head, my guide, the muleteer, will satisfy you." 
 
 At this period of the proceedings. Captain St. Pierre whispered 
 something in the colonel's ear. It was a corroboration, on his part, 
 that the statement I made was true. The colonel nodded, and thus 
 continued : — 
 
 " My friend, St. Pierre, confirms your story. I have had the 
 honour of meeting your countrymen in the field, and they have taught 
 me to respect them. Tlie English are stout and gallant soldiers ; and 
 at a soldier's hands are entitled to that honourable consideration which 
 the brave give and receive from each other. But these brigands with 
 whom you have unhappily associated, — these murdering, dastardly, 
 
 Spaniard s " 
 
 " False, by the Virgin ! " exclaimed the younger partida of the two : 
 " No dastards, robber ! — Look out in yonder court-yard — you'll see 
 there a few mementos of a Spaniard's vengeance ; and if you lift yon 
 cloak again, you will find, that though he departed somewhat hurriedly, 
 the Empecinado did not forget to leave behind a token that will bring 
 him occasionally to your remembrance." 
 
 " The Empecinado !" exclaimed a dozen voices. 
 " Ay, Juan Diez !" Avas the answer. 
 
 " Hell and furies ! Mount every man ; cross the bridge. Captain 
 St. Pierre ; surround the cork wood— they may still be lurking there. 
 I'll give you twenty voltigeurs. Carry them en croupe. They will 
 beat the coverts that horsemen cannot enter. Bring back, dead or 
 living, the enemy of the emperor — the murderer of Henri Lefevre ! " 
 The guerillas laughed scornfully. " The cork-wood ! — Will Juan 
 Diez stay there to listen to the nightingales ? " said the younger. 
 
 The order was instantly obeyed ; the horses of the chasseurs re- 
 saddled, and, with a dozen picked sharpshooters to scour such portions of 
 the wood as might be impenetrable to the cavalry. Captain St. Pierre 
 rode off to recover a reputation he considered tarnished by his recent 
 failure ; and, dead or living, bring back to his commander that dreaded 
 chief, the Empecinado. 
 
 The preparations for this new expedition consumed nearly half an 
 hour ; the Spaniards sullenly resumed their seats ; I sunk into 
 sombre meditations ; and in short, everybody, captives and captors, ap- 
 peared superlatively unhappy. It was a relief when the door opened, 
 and Colonel La Coste entered the kitchen of the posada, accompanied 
 by a person avIio bore the appearance of a civic magistrate. Once more 
 the Spaniards were placed before their judge ; and the Alcade, for such 
 the stranger proved, assented silently to all the French commandant 
 decreed. 
 
 " I know not, nor ask your names — you are rebels to the king, and 
 false to France and your country ! " 
 
 " A lie! by the immortalJudge ! " boldly returned the elder partida. 
 
HECTOR O HALORAN. 2~ t 
 
 " True to Spain, ay, true to the last. Psliaw !— Abridge tliis 
 mockery. We are doomed — we know it. Speak the sentence, and 
 let the spirit, as it was ever, still be free ! " 
 
 " You know all the circumstances of this case already," observed 
 Colonel La Coste, addressing himself to the Alcade : " these men are 
 traitors. AVhat penalty should be exacted for treason and rebellion ?" '; 
 The Spaniard looked confusedly around, turned his eyes aside, and 
 then, in an under tone that scarcely reached the ear, he muttered, 
 " Death ! " 
 
 Low as the voice was in which the opinion was delivered, it fell 
 upon the ready ear of the younger of the partidas. 
 
 " Death!" he exclaimed, "and doomed to that dread penalty by a 
 countryman ?— Countryman ! — no, no, — the craven has no country. 
 Live, Julian Lopez, live for a brief time ; but let me add the tcn-ms 
 on which that wretched existence of thine shall be continued. From 
 the hand that tenders a petition, dread the knife. Eeject the food 
 offered thee — it will be drugged. Touch not the wine-cup — it will 
 be poisoned. '^Vell, though thou escape these, a more infamous f\ite will 
 be reserved for thee : you will perish on a tree ; none pitying, and all 
 ])ouring out execrations as you go along. Some galley-slave will affix 
 the felon-halter ; and when the carrion is committed to mother earth, 
 every true Spaniard as he passes the unholy spot that covers it, will 
 strike his boot upon the clay, and mutter ' Curses on the ashes of the 
 traitor ! ' " 
 
 " Stop !" cried the commandant. " Advance these criminals ; — you 
 guess your doom " 
 
 " Guess?" asked the elder partida ; "no, no— to guess would infer 
 uncertainty. We know it well. Thou and I, Jose, shall die as many 
 better patriots have died before us." 
 
 " You are friends of that dark brigand, whom you call the Em- 
 pecinado?" observed the French commandant. 
 
 " It is indeed a proud distinction you confer, in calling us, friends 
 of that bold enemy to French oppression." 
 
 " You share his confidence ? " continued the colonel. 
 
 " Undoubtedly," returned the elder ; " ay, and I believe as much as 
 any living men." 
 
 " You knew his errand here, then ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Name it ! " 
 
 Both the partidas laughed contemptuously 
 
 " You trifle with me, villains ! But, by Heaven ! I will no longer 
 trifle with you. Cammaran," he said to a voltigeur, " get your men 
 under arms*^; throw the gates of the court -yard open ; admit the vil- 
 lagers, and prepare for an instant execution. Let twelve files load j 
 we'll join you in five minutes." 
 
 The officer left the room, and the old soldier thus continued : — 
 
 " Time presses: are you prepared to die ?" he said, addressing the 
 condemned. 
 
 A proud glance from the condemned conveyed the guerillas' answer 
 to the commandant. 
 
278 THE FORTUNES OP 
 
 '• Would you avert your fate ? " 
 
 " Willingly J" replied the elder of the two. 
 
 " Wherefore? and by what means?" snid Colonel La Coste. 
 
 " I'll tell you briefly," replied the elder : '■ I am no soldier ; I was 
 born on the banks of the Sedana, and inherited a farm my ancestors 
 had tilled for centuries. We lived then in humble opulence. My 
 father died ; I succeeded to his small possessions, married as suited my 
 lowly rank, and was as happy as love and contentment can make an 
 humble man. Twice I became a father : need I add that this fond 
 tie bound me still closer to the partner of my home and heart? Your 
 armies overran the country ; but for a time the remoteness of our 
 hamlet protected us. AVhere was the dwelling, however isolated, that 
 at one time or other escaped the fearful visits of your maraudei's ? A 
 foraging party entered our hamlet. They took what they would, and 
 none resisted ; they ate, and drank, and plundered — none offered re- 
 monstrance or complaint. I was from home — and I tell the tale as it 
 was told me afterwards. Within that solitary hamlet, there lived 
 some of the fairest peasants in Toledo. The morning rose upon them 
 in happy innocence — when it set they were ruined and dishonoured. 
 Maid and matron alike were exposed to licentious brutality. My 
 poor Inez told me the story of her wrongs, and made me swear 
 eternal vengeance on the villain who had robbed her of her honour. 
 He was the leader of the party, and that enabled me to trace him. 
 Where he Avent, I followed — ay — followed close as a bloodhound on 
 the trail. Night and day I dogged his steps. When he removed, 
 no matter how distant were his quarters, there did I, his evil genius, 
 appear. Kine months passed, and still I never could strike a certain 
 blow — but he wlio waits for vengeance seldom waits in vain. The 
 moment came at last, and in the public square of Salamanca I stabbed 
 him to the heart. Vengeance Avas satisfied : and did I then return to 
 my home ? I had no home — it was a ruin. My farm was wasted ; 
 my cattle taken away ; I found my wife a maniac — for insult and cruelty 
 had deprived Iier of reason. I sought my children — they were beggars, 
 living on the bounty of the charitable. What could I do but swear 
 vengeance anew, and band with those gallant spirits who were in arms 
 against the oppressors of their country. Well, you ask me, would 
 I live ? I answer, yes — not that life to me is worth the holding ; but 
 for the sake of that poor maniac and her starving orphans — still would 
 I live." 
 
 While he told his simple story the recollection of his wrongs sup- 
 ported him ; but the allusion to the sad calamities which French 
 barbarity had entailed upon his wretched family evidently affected him ; 
 and I observed tliat the dai-k eye which lately flashed defiance was 
 moistened with a tear. 
 
 " Spaniard, what wouldst thou give for life?" demanded Colonel 
 La Coste. 
 
 " Aught that became an honest man," was the reply. 
 
 " I will name the terms, and then say Avilt thou accept them and 
 be free?" 
 
 " Speak !" said the guerilla. 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN. 279 
 
 " Thou knowest the Empeoinado — tliou art in his confidence. — his 
 haunts are known to thee ; — couldst thou, if at liberty, find him 
 out?" 
 
 " Were my foot free upon yonder mountain, I could within six 
 hours hold Juan Diez by the hand," returned the condemned. 
 
 " Enough. A thousand Napoleons are on his head. Wilt thou 
 place the enemy of France within my power?" 
 
 " Never ! " 
 
 " Think — thy life hangs upon the answer : wilt thou win gold and 
 freedom?" repeated the Frenchman. 
 
 " Never I — the word is spoken." 
 
 In a moment the younger Spaniard threw the arm that had i-e- 
 mained unshackled around his comrade's neck. 
 
 '• Velasquez," he said, " I doubted thee, and feared that thy courage 
 might fail. Thou hast much to bind thee to life ; but is a life of 
 infamy like that false traitor's," — and he pointed to the Alcade, — " is 
 such worth holding ? — No. But as thou hast addressed this our execu- 
 tioner, so too will I." 
 
 Colonel La Coste knitted his brows together, and the young guerilla 
 thus continued : — 
 
 " I am indebted to you ; I have escaped the insult ofiered to my 
 companion, for you did not propose life to me at the expense of faith 
 and honour. Velasquez has told you a sad history — now hear mine. 
 . I am a soldier's orphan — I have no kindred left ; for wdien my only 
 uncle, the good old canon of Seville died, I saw my last relative on earth 
 committed to the grave. I was then a student, and, but for cii'cum- 
 stances, woidd have been, most probably, a monk. You came, and war, 
 and violence, and insult, followed in your footsteps. Day after day 
 I heai-d the hateful tale of French oppression, until my blood became 
 gall, and I burned to take vengeance on the invaders. The slow and 
 cautious movements of regular warfare were unsuited to a spirit active 
 and ardent as mine ; I sought a during leader, and found him in Juan 
 Diez. For three years I have followed the Empecinado. Would you 
 know more of me ? — ask who I am ? Mine is a title second only to 
 my leader's — I am ' The Student,' Jose Martinez ! " 
 
 He ceased, as he announced his name. La Coste, the moment that 
 the words were uttered, signed to a chasseur, whispered some secret 
 order, and then, turning to the guerillas, he coldly pronounced their 
 doom. 
 
 " The time is short," he added; " have either of you aught to ask 
 for ? " 
 
 " I would wish," replied the elder Spaniard, " to spend a few 
 minutes with a priest." 
 
 " The Cure shall be sent for," re})lied the French commandant ; 
 " and thou, j-oung man — hast thou no request to make ?" 
 
 "None from tliee!" returned the Student, boldly. " Here I 
 Landlord, fetch me a cup of wine !" 
 
 The order was obeyed : and holding the untasted horn in his hand, 
 ha thus continued : 
 
 " 'Tis the last wine that I shall drink ! Tell the Empecinado, also, 
 
2S0 THE rORTUNES OF 
 
 ■\vliat Ava? the last plcdire that passed the lips of Jose Martinez I — - 
 ' Viva Espaiia I — Muerau los Franceses I'* And lie emptied the cup 
 to the bottom. 
 
 The Cura obeyed the summons of the French commandant, the 
 manacles were removed from the wrists of the captives, and the priest 
 retired to a corner of tlie kitchen, apart from all besides, to shrive the 
 condemned offender. Scarcely ten minutes passed, before Velasquez 
 rose from his knees, and, witli a face that bespoke apei-fect resignation 
 to his fate, stepped back to the place where his fellow -suiferer, the 
 Student, was standing, still holding tlie empty wine-cup in his hand. 
 The Cura motioned Martinez to retire — he obeyed ; the shrift was 
 short, and, in five minutes, the Student rejoined his companion in mis- 
 fortune. 
 
 " Are the prisoners ready?" said Colonel La Coste to the priest. 
 
 Both the })artidas returned a steady — " Yes." 
 
 The Frenchman waved his arm, and, with a voltigenr on either side, the 
 condemned guerillas left the kitclien of the posada for the court-yard. 
 
 I followed in the crowd — in fact, I was not regarded as a prisoner. 
 I mingled witli the chasseurs, and, in the interest which the coming event 
 occasioned, I seemed to be forgotten altogether. AVe entered the fatal 
 enclosure — and altliough the villagers had been summoned to witness 
 the execution, not a dozen of the peasantry were to be seen; and, on 
 their affrighted countenances, hoi'ror and indignation were apparent. 
 
 In the centre of the court-yard, twenty voltigcurs were drawn up 
 in double files, with oi'dered arms, and commanded by a lieutenant. 
 A dead wall was directly opposite, at the distance of twelve paces ; 
 and thither the Spaniards were conducted by their escort. 
 
 Colonel La Coste toolc his stand on the right of the firing party, 
 some half dozen paces from the subordinate officer that commanded it : 
 and, on either side, the chasseurs and peasantry formed a line of 
 lookers-on. 
 
 The Colonel advanced two steps, as the Cura kissed and blessed the 
 sufferers for the last time. 
 
 " Wilt thou be free ? — you know the terms," he said, addressing 
 the elder of the partidas. 
 
 " No I" was calmly answered. 
 
 " Enough I — your blood be on your own head, and not on mine." 
 
 Turning to the second he thus continued : — 
 
 " Young man, pause — death is bitter! thou hast many a day of life 
 and happiness before thee, if thou wilt but choose wisely." 
 
 " I have chosen !" was the calm reply. " And now permit me an 
 indulgence — a few last words. I see the faces of deadly enemies 
 around me, and, on the blenched countenances of some dastard 
 Spaniards, who stoop and kiss the foot that presses on their necks, 
 I look in vain for sympathy ; but the very walls around me will find a 
 tongue, and the last message of ' The Student' will be correctly carried 
 to his friend, the Empecinado. Tell him I died a true and faithful 
 Spaniard. Tell him, that my friend and I were slaughtered in cold Ijlood, 
 
 * Live Spain I — Death to the French ! 
 
HECTOR o'HALLORAN. 281 
 
 and that we expect at his hands ample and immediate vengeance ! 
 Proceed ! — ai-t thou ready, Velasquez ?" 
 
 A silent inclination of the head was returned by his fellow-sufferer, 
 to the Student. Colonel La Coste signalled to the officer, and the 
 firing party shouldered arms. A dead silence prevailed, and, at the 
 movement of the muskets, my heart beat wildly as a startled girl. 
 Many of the French soldiery turned pale, and but a veiy few looked 
 on the scene of death witli indifference. The emotions of the peasants 
 were now beyond concealment, and tears and prayers were freely given 
 to the sufferers. 
 
 " Ai-e you ready?" inquired the commandant. 
 
 The eider Spaniard bowed, while the Student boldly exclaimed, 
 " Ready !" 
 
 Colonel La Coste nodded to the lieutenant; at a motion of his 
 sword, the liring party came to the present, and the next moment 
 the fatal word was given — a volley answered it — and Velasquez and 
 his companion dropped dead on the pavement of the court-yard. 
 Hastily, a cloth was thrown over the bleeding bodies, the court-yard 
 was cleared, the soldiers were ordered to rest and refresh themselves, 
 and I returned to the kitchen of the posada, at the same time a guest 
 and prisoner ; and, in the same apartment, and within twelve hours, — 
 I supped with the departed, and breakfasted with their executioners — 
 Such is the fortune of war ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE RESCUE. 
 
 " A kinsman is part cf a man's bod}', but a foster-brother is a piece 
 
 of his heart." 
 
 "Waverley. 
 
 Those who have been familiarized with warfare, know well, from 
 pei-sonal experience, how callous it renders the heart to human suffering. 
 To me these scenes were new — and to witness my fellow-men coolly 
 hurried to eternity, without even the mockery of a trial, had occasioned 
 a sensation too painful and powerful to be overcome. When, there- 
 fore, Colonel La Coste and his officers sate down to breakfiist, I felt 
 mine, indeed, to be a sorry appetite. The dead guerillas in the court- 
 yard were still Itefore my eyes, and men with whom, in the full pride ot 
 youth and health. I had taken my evening meal last night, were now 
 '" stark and stiff;" and my morning repast was to be shared with 
 their executioners. I could not forget them ; they rose to my imagina- 
 tion like Banquo's ghost, and completely marred my appetite. 
 
282 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Colonel La Coste, who in his own rough way had played the part 
 of a kuidly host, guessed the cause of my depression, and endeavoured 
 to remove it. He had been three years a prisoner in England, and 
 spoke our language tolerably. 
 
 " Come, my young friend," he said, " courage ! — 'Tis but the chance 
 of war, and thy thraldom may be short. Think not that Frenclmien 
 do not respect those to whom they are opposed ; and while a stern 
 necessity renders example indispensable, they know how to dis- 
 tinguish between the brigand and the soldier. Eat, and muster 
 thy 2:)hilosophy. When but a little older than thyself, I underwent a 
 protracted captivity — Did I sink into despair ? No, faith ! A sous- 
 lieutenant, Avithout friends or money, I taxed my wits to make a stand 
 against misfortune — ay, and I succeeded, too. There is in England 
 many a tooth-pick case, the handywork of Colonel La Coste, to which 
 tooth-picks and their cases, the said colonel has been often indebted 
 for a dinner. Think not, that because I inflict just punishment upon 
 brigands, I cannot pay due respect to a fellow-soldier in misfortune. 
 Give me your parole — and, while with us, you shall be a captive but in 
 name." 
 
 " I thank you, sir," I answered, " but when a hope of deliverance 
 remains, I never will, by a solemn promise, rivet the chain that binds 
 me. I know all chances of escape are desperate, and, without even 
 having seen an army in the field, that I shall be transferred to the 
 hopeless bondage of some inland fortress. I will give no parole, and if 
 fortune favour me, I will be free, or " 
 
 " So — I understand you ! Well, try your chances, and let me 
 take care to mar them. Your parole once given, Mr. O'Halloran, no 
 officer of this detachment should have been more at liberty than your- 
 self; but as it is refused, you will excuse me in treating you as I 
 should the commonest prisoner. — No matter, we understand each other 
 perfectly. You have been candid, and I forewarned. Have I your 
 l^arole while we continue here — here, in this posada ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " And you will not attempt escape?" 
 
 " No ; even though my good friend, the Empecinado, beat up your 
 quarters, my dear colonel." 
 
 "Well, to breakfast now. Durimel?" he said, turning to his 
 aide-de-camp, " this gentleman is under no restraint ; and while we 
 remain in the village, the gates are open to him." 
 
 I bowed. " I am now upon parole, colonel — I feel flattered with 
 this mark of confidence ; and lest I might be run away with by these 
 wild partidas, I shall avail myself of the protection of your voltigeurs, 
 and confine myself within the enclosure of the posada." 
 
 Colonel La Coste appeai'ed pleased at the frankness with which 
 I addressed him, and nothing could surpass the civility of his officers. 
 Perfectly acquainted with tlie accidental circumstances which intro- 
 duced me to the Empecinado and involved me in the vieUe of the 
 morning, I was complimented on my first essay ; and more than one 
 of the gallant Frenchmen, expressed a sincere regret that my effort at 
 escape had not proved more successful. The colonel washed down liis 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 283 
 
 breakfast with a hearty stoup, vhile, with the loquacity of an old sol- 
 dier, he favoured us with military reminiscences. 
 
 " Would you believe it, Mr. O'Halloran, that your name is per- 
 fectly f\imiliar to me? I am a soldier of the old school, and commenced 
 my cai-eer at thii-ty. My first campaign was in the Low Countries, 
 opposed to your present commander-in-chief, the Duke of ^ork ; and, 
 at his retreat, I was in the advanced guard of the Republican army. 
 On both sides, supplies were scanty, and as our discipline was not then 
 particularly strict, men v/andered hei'e and there to make out a supper, 
 if they could. Though in years a man, I was a raw soldier in expe- 
 rience ; aud one foggy evening I straggled from the outposts, and, 
 at last, totally missed my way. The accursed dykes of that most 
 beastly country confused me, and the further I went, the more I got 
 confounded. I tumbled into two or three of their dirty canals, and 
 escaped, half smothered, between mud and water, until, after an hour's 
 wandering, I at last found myself within the British outposts and 
 regularly at my wit's end. 
 
 " A light was burning from a casement ; I crept on, evaded the 
 sentry in front, and peeped througli the window. Within, one man 
 was "seated, and the epaulets on his shoulder told me that he was a 
 field officer. My case was hopeless. In a Dutch fog, witliin the lines 
 of the enemy, the bridges guarded, the boors imfriendly — how, in the 
 devil's name, had I a chance of escape I — and, adopting a desperate re- 
 solution, I determined to trust to the generosity of an enemy. I tapped 
 lightly on the casement, and the English officer rose, and opened it. 
 ' Who's there ? ' he asked. ' A poor hungry devil that has lost his way !' 
 said I. He told me to proceed ; aud I honestly informed him that 
 I had been four-and-twenty hours without food, and tliat, in seeking 
 some, I had got out of my own lines, and into sundry canals — was 
 half di-owned,"half frozen, and half starved — and, to sura the story up, 
 regularly perplexed, and bedeviled. He laughed— told me to come in 
 — gave me a draught of genuine Schiedam — pointed to a table, where 
 the remnant of a capital supper was unremoved — and told me to eat 
 heartily ; ('gad, he had no occasion to repeat the invitation ;) I did so 
 — again drank heartily from the long-necked bottle, and then modestly 
 inc^uiied whether I was a prisoner, or not ? 
 
 " ' Heaven hvhid,panvre diable!' he answered with a laugh — 'No, 
 no — Wert thou a spy — three dips in a Dutch canal, with the mercury 
 below the freezing point, would be punishment enough. I have to- 
 night the outpost duty — I'U pass you — and should you encounter some 
 wandering Englishman, repay the debt!' He then left the room; 
 I followed — he saw me across a bridge where the outlying picket 
 lay — and in an hour, I found myself once more with my regiment. Is it 
 not singular that his name was similar to yours? — and that, three days 
 afterwards, I met him in the streets of Tyle, bayonet to bayonet? The 
 headlong charge of the British grenadiers overpowered us ; but I heard, 
 with unfeigned regret, that my gallant friend and host had been 
 severely wounded, aud lost an arm. 
 
 " Well, my son, when fortune turned against your countrymen, often 
 and fervently I prayed, that shoidd more misfortunes overtake Colonel 
 
284 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 O'lTalloran, some jrood chance might i)lace him in the hands of his 
 grateful enemy, Corporal La Coste. — Have you ever heard of such 
 a person — a man of my own time of life, ay — old enough to be your 
 father?" 
 
 " In the latter observation, my dear Colonel, you ai'e perfectly 
 correct, as the gentleman in question stands precisely in that relation 
 to me. Well — it is strange enough, that you were indebted for a 
 supper to the parent, and repaid it with a breakfast to the son !" 
 
 In a moment the old republican folded me in his arms. 
 
 "Welcome," he said, "son of a brave and generous enemy! 
 May your cai-eer, my child, be as gallant but more fortunate than your 
 father's ; and may you return to your native land with a well-won 
 reputation, to cheer the winter of the old man's age — I once hoped the 
 same from thee, Henri!" 
 
 He looked for a moment to the corner of the chamber where the 
 dead chasseur Avas laid — a tear trickled down his cheek — he brushed 
 it hastily away — then rose and crossed over to the casement, to con- 
 ceal emotions of a softer nature, Avhich, in his stern estimate of a 
 soldier's character, he considered unworthy of its dignity. In a few 
 minutes he recovered his composure, and was ready to receive the 
 report of Captain St. Pierre — who had just returned to the village, after 
 an unsuccessful eifort to discover the retreat of the dreaded guerilla. 
 
 The captain of the chasseurs announced the failure of the expe- 
 dition in terms that showed how deeply its want of success had 
 mortified him. 
 
 " We scoured the w^oods," he said ; " we searched every hovel for a 
 league around us ; questioned every peasant that we met, and used 
 thi'eats and promises in vain : and we are back, Colonel La Coste — the 
 men worn out, the horses wearied — and we could neither find a trace, 
 nor glean the slightest intelligence of the murdering brigand, who, for 
 this time, has unfortunately eluded detection." 
 
 Rest was absolutely necessary before the cavalry could resume their 
 march; and, as a mountain-pass crowned the Toledo road at a league's 
 distance from the village, and rendered the route particularly dangerous, 
 it was determined that the party should remain at the posada for the 
 night, and march at sun-rise. The dead chasseurs wei'e honourably 
 committed to the grave — the soldiers ordered to refresh themselves — 
 the day passed over — night came — and, after every precaution had 
 been taken to secure the party against surprise, I found myself once 
 more in undisputed possession of the hard mattress on which I had 
 rested the preceding night. War, like misfortune, introduces people 
 to strange bed-fellows, and I never saw that adage so strikingly 
 confirmed. Colonel La Coste slept on the Empecinado's bed. Where 
 were the wild and swarthy partisans whom I had seen stretched on 
 those couches now occupied by gaily-dressed chasseurs? Cold and 
 lifeless in the court-yard ; — all suffering at an end — life's fever over ! 
 
 At dawn of day the trumpet sounded ; and as I had never undressed, 
 I quitted the crowded gallery to enjoy the morning air. I found the 
 court-yard in strange confusion, and tlie spot where the dead guerillas 
 lay, encircled "by a number of the soldiery. I stepped forward ; the 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN. 285 
 
 men made way foi' me ; and one of them pointed out a paper affixed to 
 the Student's breast. It was a placard, couched in Spanish, the words 
 being, " Miieran los Franceses!" 
 
 When the occurrence was reported to Colonel La Coste, nothing 
 could exceed his rage at the insult, excepting his astonishment at the 
 audacity of venturing on an attempt, that if discovered, involved the 
 certain death of liim who tried tins dangerous experiment. All con- 
 nected with the posadawere subjected to a rigorous examination ; but 
 nothing was elicited that could attach suspicion to any particular 
 individual. I knew not wherefore, but the occurrence raised some 
 hopes of a speedy deliverance ; and I felt a strong conviction that 
 our march on Toledo Avould not be effected Avithout interruption ; and 
 the event proved that my conclusions were correct. 
 
 "We marched at six o'clock ; and what a scene of melancholy loneli- 
 ness the deserted posada must have presented after our departure ! 
 The crowd of glittering soldiers gone — the only occupants, the 
 affrighted inmates, and the dead guerillas. "We rode slowly througli 
 the hamlet ; I, mounted on a horse that two days before had carried 
 an enemy's chasseur. It might have been foncy — I thought the faces 
 of the villagers had a sinister expression as they looked after the 
 French soldiers, while in more than one hurried glance, I saw sym- 
 pathy evinced for me. 
 
 Wlien we cleared the village, Colonel La Coste rode up, and 
 signalled that two chasseurs, who rode on either side of me with 
 uu slung carbines, should fall back. 
 
 " Mr. O'HaUoran," he said, "your parole is ended — ai'e you willing 
 to renew it ? If so, ride in any part of the column you think fit, and 
 consider yourself at perfect freedom." 
 
 " Colonel." I replied, " to do so would be to abandon my last hope 
 of liberty. Treat me as a close prisoner ; I will not give the pledge 
 you ask from me." 
 
 He looked at me suspiciously. 
 
 "Is there any secret understanding with the enemy? Have you 
 received any private information ? What hope of escape can you 
 have ? The escort is strong — our soldiers vigilant." 
 
 " Still— hopeless as they may be, I will not throw chances away. 
 I tell you honestly, Colonel La Coste, that I will use every means of 
 effecting an escape — " 
 
 " Which I shall take precautions to render impracticable," he added. 
 " I have a stern duty to pei'form ; and even though it cost mine 
 ancient friend a son, La Coste shall not be wanting." 
 
 He waived his hand — the chasseurs resumed a place at either side — 
 and one took my bridle in his hand. The commandant addressed 
 them — 
 
 " Should this gentleman endeavour to get away, or should an attempt 
 be made to rescue him that seems likely to succeed, shoot him on the 
 spot. We lost one that we should have captured ; we must not lose 
 another. Look first, to this gentleman's security ; and secondly, to 
 his comfort. Impose no unnecessary restraint — but deliver him safely 
 at Toledo, "or, mark the consequences I — your lives shall be the forfeit 
 
286 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 of his liberty," he said — spurred liis horse foi'ward, and took his 
 place at the head of tlie column, which had now left Casa Mora in 
 its rear. 
 
 The line of march ran through a country, wild, picturesque, and 
 difficult. A sierra of steep ascent was immediately in our front — the 
 summit crowned with broken crags — and the sides clothed thickly 
 with ilex, cork, and olive trees. As we advanced, the woods grew 
 thicker, and the road was surmounted by rocks on either hand. It 
 seemed as if it had been originally a great water-course, which 
 human labour had converted into a passage through the mountain. 
 We approached the gorge of the pass with military caution. Videttes 
 preceded the advanced guard; and, on either side, voltigeurs were 
 thrown out in extended order, to feel the woods, and keep the flanks 
 secure. Colonel La Coste, after making every disposition against 
 surprise, joined the centre of the column, where I was riding with my 
 friends the chasseurs, who had been so particularly entrusted with the 
 pleasant duty of dispatching me on the first alarm. The Colonel 
 ordered them to fall back once more ; and, satisfied that Ave were 
 secure fvom any molestation, he indulged again in fresh details of some 
 of the many scenes and services which he had passed through during his 
 adventurous career. Still, evidently he was not at ease ; and as we 
 entered the defile, he could not repress feelings of apprehension. 
 
 " What an infernal guerilla-pass it is ! " he half spoke, half-muttered 
 to himself: " The country and the men seem formed for each other, 
 and designed for cut-throat warfare. And the manner the road winds, 
 too, — you cannot see fifty yards in front for rocks and thickets. 
 We're near the summit. Heaven be praised ! — for, sooth to say, Mr. 
 O'Halloran, this is not exactly the place where I should wish to have 
 the honour of trying conclusions with your esteemed friend, the 
 Empecinado." 
 
 The road made here a wide and sudden sweep, dipping into a hollow 
 in the mountain-ridge. Right in front, a pinnacle of rock appeared to 
 bar all farther passage, and the path was scarped from its side. The 
 hollow way on either side was bordered by thick underwood — and 
 nothing could be more suspicious-looking than this wild and difficult 
 gorge. Again Colonel La Coste rode forward to the front, to restore 
 the order of the column, which had become crowded and disordered, 
 from the narrowness and ruggedness of the path. 
 
 Before, however, the commandant could reach his advanced guard, 
 a vidette galloped hastily back, and announced that the road in front 
 was entirely blocked up with trees, formed into a strong abatis, 
 impassable to cavalry. The chasseurs were halted, and the light 
 infantry ordered forward to remove the barrier by which the further 
 progress of the column had been thus arrested. Nearly at the same 
 moment, the i-ear -guard were suddenly fired on from thickets on 
 either side, while a number of partidas rushed from their previous 
 concealments, and;, in a few minutes, effectually closed up the narrov/ 
 road which the detachment had already passed, by throwing trees and 
 rocks across it. That the French party were completely surprised, was 
 now but too apparent. The voltigeurs, in attempting to force the 
 
HECTOR O'HALLORAN. 287 
 
 abatis, had been sliot down by dozens ; and every knoll, or rock, 
 which overlooked the pass, swarmed w-ith guerillas, who commenced 
 a murderous fire from their long-barrelled fowling-pieces, and that, 
 too, upon the close ranks of an enemy where every bullet told. 
 
 The old republican had ridden forward to encourage the voltigeurs 
 to force the abatis, that the column might fight its way through 
 the gorge iu which it had been entangled — but he was shot through 
 the heart, and dropped dead from his charger. The suddenness 
 of the attack — the fall of their leader — the appearance of countless 
 enenaies on every side, completed the panic, and paralysed exertions 
 which, under ordinary circumstances, the enemy would have 
 made. To a stern demand to surrender, the voltigeurs replied by 
 throwing down their arms, while the chasseurs hastily dismounted, 
 and endeavoured to obtain protection behind their horses, from a con- 
 stant and deadly fusilade. Some had endeavoured to escape through 
 the underwood — and a few succeeded in the attempt — but the greater 
 number were cut down ; and presently resistance ceased. 
 
 The suddenness of the surprise — and the rapidity with which the 
 affair liad terminated in the destruction or capture of the French de- 
 tachment, seemed magical. — No attempt had been made to carry the 
 orders of Colonel La Coste into execution, and my danger was 
 confined to the ordinary chances of receiving a flying bullet by mis- 
 take. — From the moment a shot was heard, my captors lost all heart, 
 and appeared to consider their situation desperate : generally mercy 
 was extended — and in a time inconceivably short, the prisoners were 
 secured, and stripped of every thing that was deemed Avorthy of notice 
 by the guerillas. 
 
 From the neat and luiiform appointments of the French soldiers, 
 the eye turned in surprise on the strange and motley appearance the 
 guerilla band presented. Every individual was dressed and armed 
 after his especial fancy. All were difierently equipped ; and had not 
 sad realities presented themselves, the whole might have been imagined 
 a military masquerade. The costumes of several countries were united 
 in a single dress. The flaring scarlet and light blue jacket of an 
 Estremaduran hussar — the shaco of a French chassem' — pistols and 
 saddle of English manufacture — the long straight sword of the cuiras- 
 sier — the brown Spanish sash, and leathern cartouch-box, with an 
 Arragonese or Catalan escopeta, were not unfrequent equipments of 
 the same brigand, as the French invariably entitled them.* 
 
 Although none of the captives escaped plunder, and many were cruelly 
 insulted in the operation, it was singular that all the partidas treated 
 me with respect, and left me unscathed in person or eflfects. Presently 
 a buzz around me attracted my attention. A m.an was forcing a passage 
 through the crowd, and the guerillas civilly made way for him. He 
 was dressed and armed in the same wild and incongruous style which 
 marked the costume of these irregular partisans ; and he looked as 
 much the brigand as if he had served a regular apprenticeship to the 
 profession. Great, therefore, was my astonishment when I heard him 
 
 * Leith Hay. 
 
288 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 pronounce ray name ; but greater still, when he seized both my hands 
 in hi?, and half said, half sobbed^" Hector, avourneeine '. — Havel 
 found my foster-brother once more?" It was, indeed, the lost Mark 
 Antony; and, as far as one could judge by appearances, the fosterer 
 had neither received damage in the late aflray, nor in his morning swim 
 over the Sedana. 
 
 " Holy Mary !" he exclaimed. <' Is this yourself. Master Hector ? 
 Well, I never expected to see you alive ; though that black gentleman, 
 with the long name, strove all he could to give me comfort. May the 
 Lord reward him for the same ! — and upon my soul, for a perfect 
 stranger, he showed the greatest affection for us both After we 
 were safe out of fire, and taking breath for a minute in the cork- 
 wood, I asked him, fair and easy, what he thought had become of 
 ye ? ' 'Gad,' says he, ' I think its a toss-up between shooting and 
 hano-ino'. The chances are, that your master was finished in the affray ; 
 but if he escaped that, he is sure to be throttled in the morning. 
 Don''t be cast down/ says he, ' if they string up our absent friend, 
 I'll hang twelve Frenchmen in his place, and you shall keep the reckon- 
 in"-.' It was very civil on the gentleman's part, but, 'faith, I was 
 better pleased, an hour afterwards, when a goatherd brought us intel- 
 ligence that you were safe and sound, and the other poor devils dead 
 as a door-nail. But liere he comes — a mighty pleasant sort of friend, 
 but sorra worse enemy one would meet in a month of Sundays. 
 Indeed, I have no reason to complain of him ; a better comrade I 
 never travelled with — I have lived like a fighting-cock since we came 
 too-ether ; and as my clothes were made ribbons of in the skrimmage, 
 here I am rigged out anew from top to toe." 
 
 As he spoke, the partida leader approached, wrung my hand ardently 
 ■with his, and -warmly congratulated me on my safe deliverance from 
 French bondage, and in having escaped any material injury in our 
 outbreak from the posada, and the more recent attack. Confiding 
 the duty of removing the prisoners, horses, and plunder to Villa Toro, 
 he requested me to walk with him to the head of the pass. As we pro- 
 ceeded along the scene of action — if such an affair might so be termed, 
 where the loss Avas entirely on one side, and no resistance had been 
 offered — I -\vas struck with the strange alteration the appeai-ance of 
 the road had undergone. Ten minutes since it had been strewn Avith 
 dead chasseurs and sharpshooters, dressed in their showy uniforms, 
 and fully and effectively equipped. Xot a soldier could be discovered 
 now ; but in their places numerous corpses might be seen stripped of 
 every covering, and in a state of nudity, that almost rendered identity 
 impossible. One body, however, I distinctly recognised : — the white 
 hair, and stern expression of countenance, even after death, could not 
 be mistaken: — the dead soldier was the old F.epublican — Colonel 
 La Coste. 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 281) 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE TRIAL, 
 
 ■" Proceed to judgment ; by my soul, I swear, 
 There is no ])0'.ver in the tongue of man 
 To alter me."' 
 
 SnAIv?:'EARE. 
 
 I COULD not pass the still bleeding corpse of the old commander 
 without gazing for a moment on the body, and expressing my sym- 
 pathy aloud. The Empecinado directed a careless look at the follen 
 Frenchman. 
 
 " Yes,'' he said, " La Coste has fought his hist battle ; and he ■\vho 
 would wish that the event were otherwise, would be indeed his 
 enemy. I have one weak point of character, Mr. O'PIalloran, and 
 occasionally, forget the man in the soldier. The Spaniard Avho struck 
 for freedom had in La Coste a ruthless foe. By the orders' of him 
 and another, I have lost, as you know, two brave companions ; and 
 within an hour after 'the Student' breathed his last, the dying com- 
 mands of my friend were carefully conveyed to me. Yengi^ance he 
 demanded — vengeance I swore should be exacted — and I doomed his 
 murderers accordingly. From my fixed purpose no earthly interven- 
 tion could have saved the devoted commander — but the chances of war 
 have averted an ignominious end. He died a soldier's death — I don't 
 regret it ; — and the halter, designed for him, is reserved for some less 
 fortunate caraarado. No more — the morning has been a busy one. 
 Come, we need refreshment. Follow me ! " 
 
 He led the way tlirough an opening in the abatis made by tlie re- 
 moval of a tree, ascended the steep rock behind it, and when we gained 
 the summit, we found there a guerilla dcjeune prepared. The scene and 
 meal were wild alike. Substantial viands, a leathern bottle of capa- 
 cious size filled witli wine of superior excellence, a few rude platters, 
 the rock our table, the sky, cloudless and blue, the canopy — while a 
 rivulet, clear as crystal, trickled at our feet through the deep hollow of 
 a mountain ravine, whose volume of water ^•aried at seasons from a 
 torrent to a thread. Above, the rugged pinnacles of the wild Sierra 
 overhung the place we occupied — while below, the broken road wound 
 through the underwood, which by turns revealed or hid it. The lower 
 portion was crowded with the guerillas and their prisoners in march 
 to Villa Moro, but the upper presented a less pleasing spectacle. It was 
 thickly studded with the bodies of the slain — an hour ago •■ instinct 
 with life," but now mutilated, cold, and naked. 
 
 u 
 
290 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 "We found two chosen fi-icnuls of -Juan Diez waiting to share the 
 morning meal. As the dark complexion of the guerilki leader had 
 given the Empecinado his by-name, so also, the person or profession 
 of his companions had obtained for each a sobriquet. One was a 
 low-sized man, of extraordinary muscular proportions, who, from a 
 distortion of liis left hand, was termed Kl ^^Eanco, or " The Maimed." 
 The other retained the title of his foruic r ciUling ; and although the 
 missal had long since been abandoned for the sword, he still was desig- 
 nated " El Cura." Than the respective dresses and appearance of 
 these partida chiefs, nothing could be more dissimilar. The " Maimed 
 One" wore the simple costume of an Estremaduran peasant — while the 
 rich uniform of a chef-tVescadron of Joseph's lancers of the guard, 
 was adopted by the churchman, whose tall and martial figure seemed 
 never intended for one, whose sphere of action should be confined to 
 the drowsy duties of cell and cloister. 
 
 At the invitation of Juan Diez, we assumed a Eoman attitude, 
 and stretched ourselves upon the rock ; the fosterer modestly falling 
 back, as if he considered himself unworthy of breakfasting in such 
 goodly presence. The Spaniard noticed his secession. 
 
 " What ho ! " he exclaimed, with a smile, — " hast thou no appetite 
 to-day? — or after sticking stoutly to a comrade in the fray, wouldst 
 thou desert him afterwards at feasting time ? 'Tis not the world's way 
 in general — and men love to see the cork drawn, who hate the sparkle 
 of a sabre. Sit thee down," and he pointed to a place beside himself. 
 Then turning to his companions, the Empecinado thus continued : — ^ 
 
 " I told you, my friends, how narrowly I avoided the trap which 
 French gold and Spanish treachery had baited for me. I planned and 
 led a desperate efibrt at escape — and never Avas man more gallantly 
 supported. This youth and I succeeded. 'Twas all mere accident. 
 We kept our legs and gained the river. My brave friend here," (I 
 coloured at the compliment like a peony,) " and our murdered bi-ethren, 
 were beaten down and captured. It is marvellous how the whistle of 
 a passing bullet accelerates one's speed — and faith, I never fancied I 
 could run so f\xst. If my camarado here proved that in the fray he 
 could use his arms stoutly, in flight nothing but a goathei'd could keep 
 him company. Fast as I ran, he still ran faster — and we fairly out- 
 stripped pursuit, save that of two rascally voltigeurs, who had thrown 
 away their musquets, and thus lightened, were enabled to keep close at 
 our heels. AVe neai-ed the river — ten paces moi'e would gain the bank 
 — and then escape wovdd be pretty certain. I turned my head to see 
 what number of the enemy pursued us. A score came straggling after 
 at various distances, and, fifty yards ahead of their companions, those 
 two accursed sharpshooters led the chase. I wished the scoundrels 
 hamstrung ; but, thanks to our Lady ! the Sedana was at hand. Alas ! 
 it seemed ftited that I should not reach its waters. An infernal vine- 
 root ci'ossed the path— it caught my foot — down I came ; and, as I 
 believed, my doom was sealed, — captivity first, and death afterwards. 
 My young companion heard my fiill ; and checking his course, he boldly 
 turned to assist me to escape, or share my fate if taken. AVitli a blow 
 he felled the leading voltigeur, and while the other hesitated to close 
 
HECTOR OHALLOR AX. 29 1 
 
 ■with two desperate men, I regained my feet, and in another momeiU 
 I and my brave preserver were breasting the swollen stream, and 
 live minutes found us in safety on its farther side. Yes, my stout 
 comrade — but for thee, France would have been freed of one of her worst 
 enemies, and Spain have lost a faithful son. Juan Diez owes thee a 
 life — and the dearest wish of his heart is, that a time may come when 
 he can repay thy gallant service." 
 
 " On their own merits modest men are dumb," and therefore, in the 
 Empecinado's narrative of our outbreak from the posada, I omit that 
 honourable mention was made of the superior style in which I finished 
 a chasseur, and rendered a second member of the same distinguished 
 corps hors de combat. But decidedly, Mark Antony was the lion of 
 the morning. Beibre his high deserts, mine sank immeasurably — and 
 from the gentleman Avith tlie maimed hand, and his pious confrere. 
 El Cura, we both received flattering tokens of friendsliip and respect. 
 As to me, there was not a French throat in the peninsula, were it 
 only to be got at, that would not be slit at my solicitation ; and hnd 
 the fosterer made the request, the French detachment would have been 
 decimated without a doubt, to prove the high place he held in the 
 personal esteem of the Empecinado. 
 
 We despatched our breakfast, the guerillas prepared to move, called 
 for their horses, and provided a couple for Mark Antony and me, 
 which an hour before had carried different riders — namely, poor La 
 Coste and his aid-de-camp. As we wound down the mountain-road, 
 leading to Villa Moro, the Empecinado pointed out the thickets his 
 followers had occupied, and dwelt Avith evident satisfaction on the 
 plan and execution of his late successful surprise. And yet, like an 
 unskilful engineer, the mine he had charged for the ruin of another, had 
 nearly caused his own. The alcade and postmaster were false to 
 their country, and in the pay of the invaders. They knew that a 
 French scouting party had secretly advanced within two leagues of 
 Villa Moro, on the night we arrived at the posada — and having 
 gained imperfect information that a gueriUa movement was contem- 
 plated, they suspected that the late visitors at the village inn were 
 probably connected with the attempt, and despatched our muleteer, 
 to apprise the French commandant that suspicious strangers were 
 in the venta, Avhere they could be easily apprehended. — Acting on this 
 intelligence — correct enough so far as it extended — La Coste executed 
 a rapid night march, which failed in its object, and terminated in 
 disaster and defeat. 
 
 Before Ave reached the little town, the prisoners, Avith a numerous 
 escort, had crossed the Sedana, directing their marcli upon the moun- 
 tains which divide Murcia from Toledo. As Ave rode slowly doAvn tlie 
 streets. Vivas greeted us on every side — tlie Avomen being the loudest 
 in their acclamations. One circumstance I afterAvards had cause 
 to recollect. Nearly in the centre of the Aillage, I observed a 
 house of superior appearance, having a court yard in front, witli a 
 beech-tree of unusual size, whose spreading branches extended nearly 
 over the Avhole area of the enclosure. The Empecinado turned a 
 careless crlance on the building and the tree. — " That beech Aviil 
 
292 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 answer" — lie muttered — and without another observation, rode for- 
 ward and entei'cd the yard of the posada. 
 
 It was crowded with dismounted partidas, whose horses were 
 picketed and feeding — and in my life I never saw more savage 
 countenances than those which were half hidden and half seen beneath 
 the shadow of their dark-plumed sombreros. In a remote corner, 
 some dozen Fronch voltigeurs, bound two and two, were drawn up. 
 An ominous silence prevailed — in the pale faces of the prisoners, 
 intense anxiety was marked — tlieir guards only conversed in whispers 
 — and it appeared that all were in expectation of some coming event, 
 which seemed dependent on the arrival of the Empecinado. 
 
 From the living my eye turned to the direction whei'e I had 
 witnessed the execution of "the Student" and his friend. — The bodies, 
 however, had been removed, — but the spot where they had fallen was 
 readily discovered, for here and there, patches of cement had Mien on 
 the ground, detached from the wall where the bullets of the firing 
 party had struck the brick-work. — Juan Diez cast a gloomy look from 
 the place his friends had met their death to that ca[)tive group, whose 
 suspense as to their fate the presence of the dreaded chief would 
 presently remove — and without uttering a word, he entered the well- 
 remembered kitchen of the posada — the curate and El Manco following, 
 and the fosterer and I with a few partidas bringing up the rear. 
 
 It appeared that this singular chamber was destined to present 
 alternately images of life and death, and in quick succession the venta 
 became the house of mourning and of feasting. — On the same table 
 wdiere I had supped with the Empecinado and La Coste, the bodies of 
 the dead guerillas were laid out side by side, the village priest kneeling 
 at their feet, and offering a mass for their souls' repose. Until the 
 religious duty was performed, the partida leaders observed a respect- 
 ful silence — but Avhen the Cura rose up and departed, the Empecinado 
 addressed his companions : — 
 
 " You have heard," he said, " the dying injunction of our lost 
 comrade, wlien he confided to me the sacred duty of executing ven- 
 geance on those who murdered him. That hour is come, and ere 
 high noon, blood shall be repaid with blood. To those without, their 
 doom shall be speedily communicated ; and on the same spot, and hy 
 the same means by which our brethren perished, their slayers shall be 
 slain. So much for retribution on the enemy. Another task is to be 
 performed — greater criminals remain — and justice sternly demands 
 her victims. Diego," he continued, pulling out his watch, and turning 
 to one of the partidas, who seemed to follow his movements as an 
 oi-derly, '• Go out — appinse the condemned that in fifteen minutes they 
 will be in eternity. The time is short — the priest must be the busier. 
 Deliver this watch to Juan de Castro ; and when this hand stands 
 there — he knows the rest — and then conduct the other prisoners hither." 
 
 He wlioin the Empecinado had addressed as Diego made no rej^l}', 
 but bowed, and left the kitchen. In a few minutes he returned, and 
 we looked anxiously to the door to discover who the other criminals 
 might be. 
 
 The first who presented himself, from dress and appearance, was 
 
HECTOR o'HALLORAN. 293 
 
 evidently a hidalgo, or Spanish gentleman. The second bore a lower 
 stamp, and appertained to the middle order of society. The third, to 
 our unbounded astonishment, was our quondam fellow-traveller, the 
 muleteer. The arms of each prisoner were bound behind his back 
 with a common halter, the end of which the partida, who conducted 
 the criminal, held within his grasp. 
 
 On the countenances of the prisoners despair was plainly written ; 
 and if one ray of hope still remained unextinguished in their bosoms, 
 the chilling address of Juan Diez would have quenched it. 
 
 In deacf silence they were placed in a line, and at the foot of the 
 table, where tlie bodies of " the Student" and his comrade were ex- 
 tended. Bending' on the devoted wretches a scowl of indescribable 
 ferocity, the Empecinado thus addressed them : — 
 
 " Spaniards — but in name — false to your God, faithless to your 
 country! — have ye aught to say why a felon death should not be 
 instantly awarded?" 
 
 The hopeless agony which the faces of the criminals thus addressed 
 exhibited, shall never fade from my memory. Colourless — wordless — 
 tlieir white lips moved ; but not a syllable was articulated but the single 
 supplication, half lost, half heard, of "mercy!" 
 
 " Mercy!" returned their stern judge, "Mercy!"— and he laughed. 
 
 Oh ! what a laugh it was ! — " INIercy, and from me ! Look round — 
 
 gaze upon your victims — and then ask mercy from Juan Diez ! But 
 softly, we must be just. Tlie mockery of a trial was extended to our 
 comrades, and a similar act of justice shall be meted out to you. I 
 shall be the accuser, and those shall be your judges ;" and he pointed 
 to El Manco and the Curate. " Yes,' justice ye shall have ; and 
 I swear, by the decree only of these worthy gentlemen, life or death 
 shall be determined ! " 
 
 He placed his hand within his jacket, and then slowly pulling out 
 several written documents, selected two or three, and then proceeded 
 with his address. 
 
 "Answer me briefly— speak truth — for, remember, the first falsehood 
 ensures the transfer of yonder halters from arm to neck. Jose de 
 Toro," he continued, turning to the postmaster, " know'st thou this 
 handwriting ?" 
 
 The person questioned gave a hurried look at the well remembered 
 characters, and, with the" sickly hope that, leaning on a straw, still 
 dings desperately to life, he at once determined to betray his guilty 
 companion. 
 
 " Noble sir," he muttered, " that Avriting is the alcade's." 
 " Thou hcarest," said the Empecinado, lianding the fotal document 
 to the Cura. '• Honest Sancho.tliou wert bearer of a letter, two nights 
 ago, addressed to Captain St. Pierre. AVouldst thou know it, honest 
 Slincho ?" and the word honest hissed sarcastically between his teeth. 
 To the unfortunate muleteei', life was dear as to the postmaster. 
 He took the fatal packet in his hand, looked at it attentively, and then 
 replied, that he had indeed received it from Jose de Toro, under a 
 promise of ten dollars for its safe delivery, whicli promise had been 
 faithfully fulfilled. 
 
294 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 *' Ho 1 ho ! " exclaimed the Empecinado, " said I not trulv 'that 
 thou wert honest? 'Tis marvellous what virtue lies in a yard or 
 two of hemp. There, Cura, read that letter also, and then thou and 
 ¥A Manco will know what will be due to justice. What proves the 
 ■alcade's letter?" 
 
 '• That the writer is a traitor, and in French pay," was the brief 
 reply. 
 
 "And what, the worthy postmaster's?" 
 
 " That he is a sworn confederate." 
 
 "And what, Cura, wouldst thou term the "caitiff who advisedly was 
 beai'er of treacherous intelligence?" 
 
 " I Avonld say that, in eftecting the villany of others, he was on a 
 par, in guilt, Avith the traitors wlio employed him." 
 
 " And now. El Manco, be it thy duty to pronounce sentence on 
 these offenders." 
 
 The maimed one ansAvered this appeal by directing a concentrated 
 look of hatred and vengeance at the convicted. Neither the alcade or 
 De Toro had power to speak a word ; but the luckless muleteer cried 
 lustily, and in the name of every saint, for mercy and forgiveness. 
 
 " Well," said the partida chief, " 'tvrere wrong to keep you in sus- 
 pense, as one fate awaits ye. But we Avill justly apportion it accord- 
 ing to your respective ranks." 
 
 Here the muleteer, under fiiUacious expectations, broke in with a 
 loud torrent of future loyalty and everlasting gratitude. 
 
 " Stay, ffiUow, keep thyself cool awhile," said El Manco, drily. 
 '• Thou know'st the proverb, surely — ' Hallo not until ye clear the 
 forest;' and now listen to your sentences. With due consideration for 
 tiiy rank, alcade, thou shalt ornament a topping branch of your own beech 
 tree. The postmaster must needs content himself Avith a loAver 
 bough. And for thee, good fellow," and he addressed himself to the 
 trembling muleteer, " no matter to Avhat limb they attach thy Avorth- 
 less carcase, provided thy f^^et clear the court -yard by a yard or tAvo. 
 Off Avith them — let them have five minutes ; and, by San Jago, that 
 Avill be longer hy four than the knaves deserve !" 
 
 Never, on a shorter trial, were men condemned, nor sentence 
 more savagely delivered. To a ruthless judge, appeal or remonstrance 
 Avould haA'e been equally unavailing ; and they were removed from 
 the posada to the tree in a sort of sullen and stupid unconsciousness. 
 Tlieir shrift was short — the last sad ceremony hurried over — and, as 
 the fosterer aft.nnvards observed, " they Avere hanged before they could 
 find time to bless themselves I" 
 
 The passing scene Avas one that Avould dwell long upon the limey. — 
 One may view the dead Avith inditfercnce — the trial's over — the goal 
 is past. — But Avho can look upon " a thing of life," Avhose thread of 
 existence a fcAV short minutes Avill sever, without recoiling at the 
 thought ? So much had these sad i-efiections occu})ied my mind, that 
 I forgot there wei'e others besides those on whom I had just looked 
 my last, who Avere standing on the confines of eternity. But these 
 musings Avere interrupted. AVithout, a rolling AoUey Avas suddenly 
 delivered. It knelled the doom of tlio luckless voltigeiu's — and by h 
 

HECTOR HALLORAN. 295 
 
 similar impulse, Mark Antony and I sprang from tlie bench, and 
 rii?lied forward to tlie casement Avliich looked out upon the court- 
 yard. 
 
 For a moment the smoke from the guerilla muskets partially 
 obscm-ed our view — but as it rose upwards, Ave saw the unhappy 
 6uflerers stretched in a line before the wall — dead, or rolling in the 
 •agonies of death. There was one singular exception ; — an officer 
 appeared to have escaped — for he stood upright and firmly on his 
 feet, with his hand across liis bosom. In military executions, some 
 loaded muskets are- always reserved to abridge the sufferings of 
 the condemned, should the volley of the firing party fail to end ex- 
 istence. But the partidas were willing executioners — every piece 
 had been discharged — and though the Frenchman boldly called on 
 them to " fii'e I " — the oi'der was not obeyed. 
 
 To rescue the gallant victim was my instant determination, and 
 I appealed warmly to the Empecinado in his favour. The Spaniard 
 shook his head — and the Cura and El Manco protested against any 
 exercise of mercy. The guerillas commenced reloading — in a few 
 brief moments the deed would be eifected, and remonstrance of no 
 iivail — but a sudden impulse of generous ardour eventually proved 
 successful. The fosterer bounded from the casement to the court- 
 yard — sprang through the crowd, passed along the front of the firing 
 party, clasped the condemned soldier in his arms, and swore in very 
 excellent Ii'ish, and by every saint h.- cuulJ remember at the time, that 
 to reach the Frenchman's body, the bullets must pass first through 
 his. 
 
 There was not a partida in that wild band who did not personally 
 estimate !Mark Antony as the saviour of their chief — but still the 
 fosterer's was a dangerous and doubtful experiment. It was interpo- 
 sing between the tiger who has tasted blood, and the victim already 
 underneath his paw. Dark looks were turned upon the preserved and 
 the preserver — and muttered oaths were heard, like the distant growl 
 ■wliich heralds the bursting of a thundercloud. The Empecinado, who 
 witnessed the occurrence from the casement, however, lulled the coming 
 storm — and in a voice that to be heard was to be obeyed, he com- 
 manded the surviving prisoner to be conducted to his presence ; and 
 next moment Lieutenant Cammaran entered the kitchen of the 
 pcsada — on one side guarded by a guerilla — on the other supported 
 by the honest fosterer, who still, for better security, encircled the 
 Frenchman with his arm. 
 
 Scott says tliat " a kinsman is part of a man's body, but a foster- 
 brother is a piece of his heart." The truth of the remark never 
 came so home to me before. In infancy, the same bosom had sus- 
 tained us, — in childhood, our joys and sorrows were the same, — in 
 youth, Mark Antony had followed my fortunes, and in manhood pre- 
 served my life. No wonder, that for him mine was indeed a brother's 
 love. But I never felt so proud of our relationshiji, as an hen I saw 
 the fosterer confront the guerilla chiefs, with his arm locked firmly 
 round the poor French voltigeur. 
 
296 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI L 
 
 THE PARDONED VOLTIGEUR. 
 
 " Portia. — It must not be ; there is no povrer in Vcn'.C3 
 Can a'ter a decree established ; 
 'Twill be recorded for a precedent ; 
 ^\.nd m'lny an error, by the same exampl?, 
 Will rush into the state — it cannot be."' 
 
 Merchaxt of Venice. 
 
 I NEVER met a man who appeared to have made his mind up to die 
 with more dignity and determination than Lieutenant Cammaran. Ho 
 had already ahiiost undergone the bitterness of death ; as yet his fate 
 was an uncertainty — the sword continued suspended l)y a hair — and 
 still the expression of his manly countenance was perfectly undisturbed, 
 and neitlier lip nor eye-lid trembled. He planted his foot firmly on 
 the floor, and, calmly and resolved, awaited a doubtful result — the turn 
 of the die, on which life and death depended. 
 
 Plow he had escaped mortal injury seemed the miracle: two balls 
 had passed tlu'ough his chaco, his epaulette was divided by another, 
 the jacket perforated by several, and yet not one bullet of a dozen 
 aimed at him had even razed the skin ! In such a presence, and 
 under such circumstances, to remain unmoved, required a powerful 
 exercise of moral courage. Few there were, who bore tlie name of 
 Frenchman, who would have coveted an interview with Juan Diez. El 
 Manco, in desperate severity towards the invaders, bore even a more 
 terrible reputation than the Empecinado ; and although the Cura was 
 a learned and pious churchman, as it might have been presumed, still, 
 from divers exploits ascribed to him, in which unbounded liberties 
 had been taken with life and limb, tliere was not a follower of tlje 
 intruder who would not have preferred an interview with the arch- 
 enemy himself. 
 
 " Thou hast been condemned to death," said Juan Diez, addressing 
 the prisoner. 
 
 " I have," replied the captive, steadily, " and tlie only marvel is 
 that the sentence has not been yet completed." 
 
 " Humph ! But for the thoughtless interference of this rash young 
 man, that marvel would have been ended speedily," returned the 
 
 P^mpecinado. " Hast thou aught to ask before " And he made 
 
 a pause. 
 
 " The experiment shall be tried more successfully," said the French- 
 man, coolly. " Yes ; I have an orphan daughter ! My poor Pauline! 
 —thou hast no mother to protect thee— and in an hour thou wilt be 
 
HECTOR O llALLORAN. 297 
 
 fatherless ! I would send her all I have — my parting blessinG: ; and, 
 uith your permission, write a brief letter, whieh this kind and 
 gallant youth will, I have no doubt, endeavour to get safely conveyed 
 to Paris?' 
 
 " Mona sin diaoul ! "exelaiined the fosterer, drawing the back of his 
 hand across his eyes, " Miss Pauline shall get it, though I walked every 
 inch of the road, and committed highway robbery for my expenses." 
 
 " Thy request is granted. Diego, bring my portefeuille hither." 
 
 " And make the letter short," continued El Manco, coldlv ; " I have 
 some ten leagues to ride after thy execution ; I'll wait until it's over, 
 for I hate to leave a job half done." 
 
 " Gracious God I " I exclaimed ; '' surely this cannot be serious ! 
 Pause, Don Juan I — One so miraculously preserved — the very hand of 
 Providence visible in his escape I — Would jon slay him ? — delibe- 
 rately, coldly, slay him ? No, no, I can't — I won't believe it. You 
 are brave I — the brave are not assassins ; and this would be an act of 
 butchery ! You would not sanction it. Did I conceive it possible 
 that you would, by Hea\en, the worst remembrance of my life would 
 be, to think that you and I had ever fought side by side, and hand and 
 heart together ! " 
 
 The Spaniard coloured ; but a sarcastic smile was the only reply he 
 vouchsafed. 
 
 " I am too warm, Don Juan ; like that of your own land, Irish 
 blood is hot. Forgive me if I have oft'ended you." A gracious smile 
 from the Empecinado was returned, and conveyed a gracious pardon. 
 " Now let me ask a favour : make me in gratitude your debtor ; 
 I have a claim on you. From the surpi-ise, three nights ago, / risked 
 nothing but captivity ; by the French I should have been honourably 
 respected ; and had I determined on escape, a fitter time and better 
 opportunity would have been readily found to attempt it. AVith i/oit 
 circumstances were different, nay, desperate. With you 'twas but a 
 choice of deaths — the sword or halter the alternative — while I had 
 only to remain quiet, and not a hair of my head would have suffered 
 injury. Did I fail you then ? — Did my foster brother ? No ; we 
 perilled all, fought by your side, and hewed out a path by which you 
 escaped a death rAore certain, even than that which now awaits this 
 unfortunate gentleman." 
 
 " Stop, Mr. O'Halloran," said Juan Diez, interrupting me. '-AH 
 you have stated is correct ; and the only difficulty in the case is to 
 reconcile gratitude with duty. I see a course by which matters may 
 be accommodated ; and, from your interference on his behalf, I will 
 save this Frenchman ; that is, provided he accedes to terms. There 
 are none here but those he may rely on. Listen, prisoner, and pause 
 before you answer me." He took an open packet from his breast. 
 '• These papers, in cypher, were found carefully concealed upon the 
 body of your late commander : you were his secretary, and know the 
 key ; give me the means of reading the contents, and thou art free as 
 yonder bird." A pigeon passed the casement at the moment. " Hast 
 thou not the key?" 
 
 " I have," returned the captive. 
 
298 TPIE FORTUNES OP 
 
 '• Speak — disclose it — liberty is tliine ; and none shall ever kno^\- 
 thf means by which 1 obtained a knowledge of the secret." 
 
 " First, may this tongue be palsied I " And the captive drew liimself 
 proudly up. 
 
 '' To the court-yard, then I" returned the Empecinado. "Xo more, 
 sir,"' he said, perceiving I was about to urge anew my claims upon 
 him for late service. "Have I your final answer to my proposal?" 
 he continued, turning to the condemned. 
 
 '• Fixed and final !" was the firm reply. 
 
 " And upon my conscience, as a true Catholic,"^ exclaimed the 
 fosterer, '• a dirtier proposal, Mister Empecinado, I never listened to I 
 — you would have the honest lad here turn traitor, after hanging 
 tliree dacent men of the same profession scarcely half an hour ago ! — 
 Ar]-ah, have ye neither conscience nor decency, Don Juan ? " 
 
 " What hoi" returned the Spaniard, "art thou, too, upon me?" 
 
 " Mr. Emjiecinado — and God sees I'm not quite certain whether 
 I'm right or wrong in mistering you — but if it's wrong, why leave it 
 on my ignorance. "We have been comrades for three days, and from 
 the little I know of ye, I would go through fire and water to serve you ; 
 more by token, the coldest swim I ever had, I took in your company 
 over that river the other morning. Ko matter about that — the glass 
 of brandy we had from that friend of yours in the cork wood set all 
 to rights afterwards. "Well, as I was saying, ye spoke civilly of me 
 Bot two hours ago foment these gentlemen — him with the crooked 
 claw, and his reverence in the colonel's jacket. Now all I ask you is a 
 trifle. Honour bright, Don Juan I Don't ye mind, after the swim, and 
 over a glass of brandy-nate, you oSered to hang a dozen Frenchmen 
 as a mark of friendship to me and Master Hector there ? It's not 
 much lAvant ; only just let one neck alone. Do, Empecinado, avour- 
 iiehie! Arrah, do, and take my blessing! Why, man, it would be 
 murder, out and out, to harm him. Arrah, just look at the state ye 
 have reduced him to ! — you have drove two bullets through liis 
 cap ; and as to his jacket — and may be the best the cratui'e has in the 
 vo]-ld — it's cut into so many ribbons, that, upon my conscience, a 
 respectable scarecrow would be ashamed to wear it in a wheat-field on 
 ji Sunday. You know I'm the last man that would interfere in matters 
 that don't concern me. — Did I part my lips, good nor bad, when ye 
 sent the three gentlemen to the gallows a while ago ? — and if you 
 hanged rafi" of their kind out of the face — for as well as I could under- 
 stand they Avere bailiffs or attorneys — sorra one of me would blame 
 ye if ye strung tlicm by the score. But this poor crature — let him 
 go — and tcike Mark Antony's blessing." 
 
 Warm as was the fosterer's appeal, it did not shake the stern reso- 
 lution of the Empecinado ; and a cold movement of his head negatived 
 the supplication for mercy. 
 
 '■ And won't ye, then, be after letting him off?" continued Mark 
 Antony, warming into Hibernian eloquence, while his cheek flushed, 
 and his dark eyes kindled. " Ye spoke a while ago about my doing you 
 a civil turn — let this poor fellow free, and I'll do ye twenty more, if 
 you'll only put me in the way. But if ye're baste enough to murder 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAX. 209 
 
 liiiii — jnona sin diaoul I — the next time ycai're in a skrlmmage, 
 and tumble over an ould tree, may the divil piek ye up for Mark 
 Antony O'Toole. That's all I have to say — Tiggum thu?"* 
 
 The speaker paused. Most ol" the fosterei''s address Juan Diez 
 comprehended ; and such portions of the speech as had been delivered 
 in Irish, being expletive, -were not very material. To the appeal, how- 
 ever, he turned a deaf ear, and directed, that after his letter had been 
 written, the prisoner's sentence should be carried into immediate effect. 
 1 was about to remonstrate, but Mark xlntony, having the ear of the 
 Court, thus continued : — 
 
 " And is this your answer?" he exclaimed. "Ah, then, Empecinado, 
 I have done with ye I Ay — and for all your fine speeches, I'm be- 
 ginning to think you're no great shakes, after all ; and as to your 
 promises, they're very like what they call pig-shaving in Connaught — - 
 much noise and little wool. Come along, Hector, jewel ! \:e won't 
 remain to see this poor gentleman fairly murdered. God forgive the 
 whole of ye I I put tlie sign of the cross betune us." And here 
 the fosterer made a crusial flourish with his thumb in the direction 
 of the guerilla chiefs. " I can only say, that if there are three gentle- 
 men in Spain certain of a warm corner in the next world, I'm just at 
 present taking a parting peep at them. Good morning to ye all. I'll 
 be obliged if you'll send one of your understrappers to put us on the 
 right road ; and I hope. Mister Diez, that the next dacent lad ye tatter 
 out of bed at cock-crow, to drag into a rooluuca first, and a river 
 iifterwards — why — that you'll trate him civiller than ye did me." 
 
 There are few vvlio are proof against eloquence, natural or acquired; 
 and on nM it has power alike, whether it be exercised in the fisli- 
 niarket or the Four Courts. On some men it may have opposite 
 effects; and tlie florid appeal that carries away the judgment of the 
 one, will only alarm the suspicions of another ; and thus, the same jury, 
 that on the showing of Mr. Charles Phillips, values an abstracted lady 
 at a thousand pounds, after a prosy address from Sergeant Eoundabout, 
 will estimate a similar loss only at a sixpence. Mark Antony had 
 very awkward judges to address ; like his greater namesake, "he was 
 no orator," and possibly it was all the better for his client. We have 
 .some doubts, had INIr. Joseph Hume denounced the international ille- 
 gality of .despatching Lieutenant Cammaran of the 1 6th Voltigeurs, 
 with the arithmetical precision with which, in the House of Commons, 
 he would calculate the waste of human breath, that the brass band of 
 the Guards inflicts on this distressed country, — we have doubts, we 
 say, whether the Empecinado would have been a convert. Had the 
 Liberator of Ireland blessed or banned for an hour by Shrewsbury 
 clock, it would have been all the same to El Manco — and to the rcmon- 
 .strance of the Bench of Bishops, aided by a rescript from the Pope, tlie 
 Cura would have irreverently played " deaf adder." And yet, Avith 
 .-uch unmanageable authorities to deal with, Mark Antony's eloquence 
 prevailed. 
 
 " Stop!" cried Juan Diez, as the fosterer turned his back sullenly 
 round, to wait while the condemned soldier conveyed to his orphan a 
 * Jiigllce, " Do ye understand ?"' ^ 
 
300 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 last farewell. — " "Will nothing but this Frenchman's life acquit the 
 service that I owe thee ? " 
 
 " Nothing," returned Mark Antony. — " What other favour could ye 
 grant me ? Ilav'n't I the free use of my limbs, and ten dollars besides 
 in my pocket ? " 
 
 " Well — if it must be so — I will not let thee leave me in thy debt. 
 Frenchman — thou art saved I " 
 
 " Then, Pauline, thou mayst yet receive from living lips, that 
 blessing which a dying hand was tracing !" and springing from the 
 bench, the voltigeur flung his arms around the fosterer, and pressed 
 him to his bosom. 
 
 " Heaven forbid," said Juan Diez, addressing Mark Antony — 
 " that I had many creditors like thee ! Well — no matter — hgve I 
 now acquitted all claims upon me to tlie full ? " 
 
 " No, Empecinado," I returned — '"I am as yet unpaid." 
 
 " Go on, my friend. — What wouldst thou have me do ?" said the 
 Spaniard, graciously. 
 
 " Complete the favour — and add liberty to life." 
 
 Juan Diez paused — looked at El Manco and the Cura. 
 
 " What shall I answer ? I swore that nothing should avert his doom 
 — and thought nothing could have shaken the resolution." 
 
 " I hwrv that notliing human should have shaken ynine" observed 
 El Manco. " Life spared, liberty is a trifle — grant it, Juan Diez, if you 
 please." 
 
 "And I," said the Cura, '-will not object. — Great men have oc- 
 casional weaknesses, and at times, I have found myself rather softer 
 hearted than I should be. Empecinado, 'tis sinful to break an oath, — 
 but Holy Church is merciful. — Hang me the first half dozen of these 
 robbers who fall into your hands, and thou shalt have absolution ; the 
 penance — that thou shalt fast from flesh meat the first day when you 
 cannot conveniently find it." 
 
 At this merciful annunciation of tlie worthy clerk, Juan Diez 
 laughed. 
 
 " I thank thee, Cura," he replied ; " but wlien I make my shrift, 
 I will seek another confessor. Come, the moi-ning passes, and 'tis 
 time we were wending towards the mountains. Gentlemen," he con- 
 tinued, turning to the fosterer and me, " our short companionship is 
 about to terminate. If gallantry could attach me to brave men, and 
 make me regret a separation, I should have abundant reason to grieve 
 that I am about to lose ye ; but, sooth to say, for our wild warfare 
 you are not exactly fitted, and, like my excellent camarado, the Cura, 
 you have a little too much softness at the heart. From intelligence 
 I have received since we first met, I would advise you to abandon 
 your original intention of crossing tlie mountains to Valencia. Suchet's 
 movements are suspicious, — the roads are unsafe — crowded with 
 ladrones — all desperate men, who would respect no passports, were 
 they guaranteed by every authority in Spain. If you choose to 
 persevere " 
 
 " No, Don Juan," I replied ; " I will return to the allied canton- 
 ments. I have, in obedience to orders, endeavoured to reach my 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 301 
 
 regiment. I have failed ; and, to say truth, I don't regret it. I shall 
 resign my commission, if required, and serve under Lord Wellington 
 a volunteer." 
 
 " Such being your intention, I would recommend that you return 
 by the shortest and openest route. Should you touch upon a French 
 outpost, this gentleman will protect you," and he pointed to Lieutenant 
 Cammaran ; " if you fall in with the allied cavahy, you will return 
 the compliment ; and should you tumble upon any friends of oui'S 
 during the journey, you carry a passport that every partida on the 
 peninsula will respect. Ho, Diego ! bring me yonder writing-case. 
 Fortunately, sir, you do not require it at present," and the Empecinado 
 smiled as he addressed the reprieved one. 
 
 " Thanks to these noble P^nglishmen, I do not," returned the lieu- 
 tenant. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," replied Mr. O'Toole ; " I can't exactly tcU 
 what countrj'uian I am, because I was born at sea." 
 
 '•' Wine I " cried the Empecinado. " Ho, landlord ! stir thyself. 
 Thou know'st my taste — none of that sorry stufi' that woidd poison a 
 Manolo. Let's have some fit for christian men. Remember, honest 
 Gonsalvez, thou hast rarely such honourable guests. Here are three 
 foreigners of distinction ; and there a holy churchman. Of my friend 
 here," and he pointed to El Manco, '"' I shall say nothing ; and modesty 
 forbids me speaking of myself Come, let thy wine be good, or, by 
 San Juan, we'll quit thy vcnta altogether." 
 
 With a low bow, the alarmed innkeeper hurried off. As he passed 
 us, the expression of his countenance was ridiculously intelligent ; and 
 to the last sentence of the Empecinado, said, or seemed to say, "I wish 
 to Heaven you would I " 
 
 The wine that the host produced no doubt was excellent, for its 
 effect upon the company was marvellous. Juan Diez jested with the 
 Curate ; the Frenchman and fosterer conversed in broken English ; 
 occasionally El Manco vouchsafed a relaxation of the fc\cial muscles, 
 which he intended to represent a smile. All seemed happy but the 
 innkeeper ; and on his dull countenance terror and anxiety were im- 
 printed. On him the lively sallies of his distinguished visitors were 
 lost ; and the only occurrence at which his sombre featui'es lightened 
 was when a guerilla entered the apartment, and announced that the 
 horses were saddled in the yard. 
 
 While the party resumed their cloaks and weapons, the Empecinado 
 beckoned to me, and 1 retired with him to a corner. 
 
 " Is there aught in which I can oblige you ? Speak freelj-," Le 
 said. 
 
 I thanked him, and answered him in the negative. 
 
 " How is thy pocket lined, ni}' child?" was his next question. 
 
 I assured him my purse was liberally supplied. 
 
 " I can spare thee a dozen pistoles," he added. 
 
 I acknowledged the kindness, but declined the offered subsidy. 
 
 He looked suspiciously around, and then took a packet from his 
 bosom, and placed it in my hand, unseen. 
 . " Conceal these papers, and deliver them carefully, with my duty to 
 
302 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Lord "WolHngton. They are written in ciplicr ; but I know that he 
 has a key that will unravel their contents. I feel assured that they 
 contain important information, for I have learned through a channel 
 where I never was deceived, that the expedition of La Coste was 
 originally intended for no other purpose, than to enable him to com- 
 municate with another commandant to whom he was directed to 
 transfer these papers safely. A movement of two strong detachments 
 to secure the deli\ery of a letter is a sutficient guarantee, my friend, 
 that the contents are momentous. Let us go. El Manco is im- 
 patient. Outside the village we pai't — thou, to the low country ; 
 I to the mountains." 
 
 " Art thou hearing a confession in yonder corner, Empecinado?" 
 inquired the monk. 
 
 " No, Cura, I would not usurp the functions of the church with one 
 of its brightest ornaments immediately beside me. I was merely giving 
 my young friend here a slight hint of what Juan Diez has experienced, 
 and I'll once more repeat it." Then, turning to me, he added aloud, 
 " 'Tis an uncertain world, and many a brilliant opening in a young- 
 life has darkly closed. Should fortune frown, friends fall off, enemies 
 prevail — in short, should thy young career be darkened as mine was 
 suddenly, take thy chance with Juan Diez; and thou, my friend," 
 and the Spaniard addressed the fosterer, " thou, too, Avilt any timo 
 be welcome ; and, as we crossed the Sedana, we'll swim or *ink 
 together." 
 
 So saying, the guerilla pointed to the door. VTe took the hint, and 
 j)assed on. There the worthy host stood, cap in hand, boAving us out, as 
 it became customers of distinction. I would have stopped and 
 demanded a reckoning, but Mark Antony was of opinion that such a 
 proceeding might have been an offence in the sight of our patrons and 
 protectors. Certainh^, I saw no bill paid or delivered ; and I ha,ve 
 reason to believe that the guerilla leaders were of the school of ancient 
 Pistol, and consequently gentlemen of too good taste to stoop to an 
 inquiry into accounts. And yet proofs of disinterested regard were not 
 wanting to Senhor Velasquez. I overheard the Empecinado, as he 
 passed,"impress on this favoured innkeeper the immediate necessity of 
 replenishing his bins with better wine, and restoring his stable-loft, 
 which needed repair sorely. In my presence certainly none of the 
 circulating medium passed ; and, to use lashionable parlance, I verily 
 believe the unfortunate proprietor of the posada was regularly vic- 
 timized by all and every. 
 
 We entered the court-yard ; and, thank Heaven, for the last time. 
 A score of guerillas, mounted and dismounted, were in waiting. Cam- 
 maran passed through with averted eyes ; but I ventured a look at 
 the well-remembered spot which, witliin eight-and-forty hours, had 
 witnessed a double execution. The voltigeurs were lying as they fell ; 
 the bodies Aveltering in a pool of blood, or exhibiting, in other cases, no 
 mark of violence whatever. One I passed by was a mere lad. His 
 death must have been instantaneous— one fracture in the jacket was 
 opposite the heart— the countenance was tranquil ; and a smile played 
 upon the lip. Could that be death ? I knew it was, or I could have 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAX. 303 
 
 fancied well that be was dreaming of absent friends, and cduily in- 
 dulging in a siesta. 
 
 I was deligbted Avben we cleared the court-yard. El Manco and 
 the Cura were waiting for us — presently, Juan Diez rode up ; and, 
 followed by an escort of some score of cavalry, we, for the last time, 
 l^assed along the street of Villa Moro. 
 
 I had witnessed enough of guerilla life to render it thoroughly dis- 
 gusting. "War at best is bad; but "war to the knife" is only toler- 
 able for savages. All the romance of partida daring had passed awav. 
 I had seen it in its naked light, and found its real character^ — a ruth- 
 less, reckless disregard to every feeling which binds mankind by a 
 common tie — by turns suffering without complaint, and inflicting 
 without compunction. Such were my impressions as I slowly rode 
 along the village street ; and had they needed any conflrmation, the 
 scene reserved for me would have been quite enough. 
 
 On the huge beech tree I had already remarked in front of the house 
 of the chief magistrate, three human bodies were suspended. The 
 Empecinado's passing observation, and El Manco's sarcastic address 
 Avhile dooming the unhappy offenders, came back vividly to my recol- 
 lection. The sentence had indeed been executed to the very letter, 
 and alcade, postmaster, and muleteer, were hanging precisely as the 
 " maimed one " had decreed it. 
 
 The worst feature of the savage picture remained — six wretched 
 orphans who had witnessed the expiring agonies of their father were 
 still screaming from the windows from which they had seen him die, 
 and from fear, insensibility, or both, their immediate neighbours dared 
 ]iot, or did not, offer the slightest mark of sympathy under a bereave- 
 ment that would have touched all but savage hearts. The fosterer 
 turned pale ; the Frenchman shuddered ; the Empecinado regarded 
 the dead men with a marble look. 
 
 " El Manco," observed the Cura with a smile, " Jack Hangman has 
 done thy bidding, and the alcade overtops his friends'." 
 
 " Ay," returned the " maimed one ;" " this ever be the fate of 
 traitors ! "Would that every oak in Spain bore such acorns as yonder 
 beech tree ! " 
 
 I was sick, nauseated, disgusted. Death — death in every shape ! 
 and from the bottom of my heart, I blessed God that my acquaintance 
 Avith my excellent friends was to determine so speedily. Until we 
 cleared the village I preserved an unbroken silence ; and when Juan 
 Diez pointed to a place where our respective roads branched off at the 
 distance of a furlong, my bosom felt as if it were lightened of a load, 
 and, as Doctor Pangloss says, " I breathed again." 
 
304 THE FORTUNES CF 
 
 : CHAPTER XXXIIT. 
 
 THE GUERILLAS GILT. 
 
 Bring forth the horse I — the horse v.as hrought ; 
 In truth, he was a noble steed. " 
 
 Mazeppa. 
 
 A FEW minutes' easy riding brouglit us to the spot where the roads 
 diverged, and where it had heen previously arranged that we should 
 part company. AVe took leave of El INIauco and the Cura ; the 
 fosterer and Frenchman turning their horses' heads in the direction of 
 Toledo, while the partidas took the mountain route. Consequently, 
 the Empecinado and I were left alone, the escort passing on, with the 
 exception of a single horseman. 
 
 " I know not wherefore, Mr. O'llalloran, but I feel more reluctance 
 in saying the word ' farewell' than is my wont. The chances against 
 our ever meetmg in this world are enormous. Well, it matters not — 
 'tis but a too frequent occurrence in life's histoiy — the parting from 
 those we esteem Believe me, I shall ever look back on oiu' brief 
 acquaintance with pleasure, and wish you the best fortunes that attend 
 a soldier — death or distinction. If I live, you will hear of the Empe- 
 cinado. The tale may not be flattering ; it may be of enemies destroyed, 
 of villages laid in ashes. IMen will speak of him as of a demon, and 
 women cross themselves when they hear his name pi'onounced ; and 
 yet, Mr. O'llalloran, I was once such another as thyself. Mine, at 
 thy own age, was the same ardent and disinterested courage, that at 
 the posada risked life to save a stranger ; and when the flush of blood 
 had cooled, I would have recoiled, like thyself, from treading on a 
 worm. And I was happy. I had a home on the sweet banks of the 
 Iluebra. I had a wife — a child. The I^Iadonna's features at the altai-, 
 where we plighted our bridal vows, were not lovelier than Camilla's — 
 the infant's on the holy Virgin's knees, not sweeter than my boy's. 
 I lost both, Mr. O'llalloran — lost them — but doii't ask liow ! In one 
 brief day, Juan Diez's natui'e changed, and he became what he is, cold 
 to the misery he inflicts on others, from the fearful remembrance of 
 Avhat he underwent himself. But enough ; sometimes recall the Em- 
 pecinado to tliy recollection, and think on the inn of Villa Moro. 
 Thou shalt have one token to bring me to thy memory — 'tis this 
 horse. He is a fitting gift ; black as the rider he carried in safety 
 through as great extremity — ay, even as that we encountered the first 
 morning that we met." 
 
 I thanked him warmlv, but declined to accept tl e charger. 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 305 
 
 " Well, it woukl anpoar that in turn Juan Diez is to ask a tavour 
 and be refused," he remarked, with an appearance of disappointment. 
 
 " Not so, Empecinado. I am too grateful for the past to incur fresh 
 obligations. Why, look but at the value of the animal ! My foster 
 brother, as we rode together, was observing, that he doubted whether 
 there was a more beautiful charger in Spain." 
 
 " I question if there be ; and yet I got him cheap enough. He cost 
 me but a three hours' ride. To be sui-e, the niglit was dark, and the 
 road the worst on tlie frontier. He was the favourite steed of one of 
 Spain's v,-orst enemies ; and the pistols, which you will find loaded in the 
 holsters, were a gift from Napoleon to his minion. On the borders of 
 Portugal I cut off a small detachment, escorting plundered property 
 for better security to Ciudad Rodrigo. Of these spoils, Junot was the 
 chief pi-oprietor. I divided them among my band, but kept this 
 charger, pai-tly from personal regard for the French marshal, and 
 partly as a momento of my success." 
 
 Still I declined tlie Empecinado's present. 
 
 " Well, let us change the terms. If you will not receive, you shall 
 purchase ; for I ani determined to get rid of him. Are you aware 
 that I have increased my stud this morning by eighty-three ? I think 
 I can spare one. Come, will you accept or purchase?" 
 
 I smiled ; and jestingly replied that a long price was beyond the 
 means of a young subaltern. 
 
 " But we can afford long credit," said the Empecinado, in the same 
 [)layful mood. 
 
 •' Worse still, Don Juan. My father is an old soldier, and in his 
 catalogue of militaiy offendings, debt holds a prominent place." 
 
 " Pause, my friend, until you hear the terms of sale. To your 
 companion, I owe a life. His shall be the horse. Settle the price 
 with him, and to him transfer the value. But no more of this. 
 The roads are sometimes puzzling to a stranger, and that follower of 
 mine" — he pointed to the mounted guerilla — " will accompany you to 
 the first town where mules and a guide are procurable. You may trust 
 him implicitly ; in everytliing he will direct you ; he is true as steel, 
 and could lead you blindfolded from one end of Toledo to the other." 
 
 He pressed my hand, sprang into the saddle of the troop-horse I 
 liad just vacated, and, with a kind adieu, cantered after his companions, 
 who' were now fully half a mile ahead, and, in a round trot, hurrying 
 towards the higlilands. A turn in the road speedily concealed him — 
 and it was the last I ever saw of Juan- Diez. 
 
 I soon overtook my fellow-travellers. On what subjects they had 
 previously occupied themselves I cannot guess, but my advent caused 
 the fosterer to be rather anxious to hurry what seemed an undecided 
 monetary transaction to its close. 
 
 " Oh ! the divil a shurrich tlicy would leave ye — the thieves !" ob- 
 served Mark Antony to Lieutenant Cammaran. 
 
 '■ SlturreekeV repeated the Frenchman,— " what you mean by 
 skiirreeke?" 
 
 '• Not a music," said the fosterer, in explanation. 
 
 " Music — music .' " and Lieutenant Cammaran shrugged his sho'olders. 
 
 X 
 
306 THE FORTUNES OP 
 
 " That is — not tlu.' kintr";? [)ioture iu your pocket, to keep tlie di\ 11 
 out ol it," contiiuied JNItirk Antony. 
 
 " The devil in my pocket, and the king to keep him out — I do not 
 understand at all," said the Frenchman, with a sigh. 
 
 " Oh," cried the fosterer, iii despair, " it's all useless knocking sense 
 into the head of a foreigner. What a loss it is the man does not speak 
 Irish, and I'd make him comi)rehend me in a jifi'y. I was just men- 
 tioning, that as these guerillas had cleaned him out, he would be all the 
 better of five or six dollars till he got home, poor fellow. But why 
 are ye riding the dark gentleman's horse ? Lord, what a figure ! If 
 I ever get hanged for horse-stealing, it will be for borrowing such 
 anothex". But where's that Mister Empecinado, as they call him?" 
 
 " Trotting as briskly to the mountains as a thick-winded French 
 troop-horse will cai-ry him," I replied. 
 
 '• Do you mean the one you rode ? " 
 
 " I mean it ; — we have made an exchange." 
 
 '•An exchange?" The fosterer gave a whistle. "So it was 
 jockeying you were ? Vreil, God sees I never suspected that IMister 
 Diez was in the line, and fancied that he used halters on two-legged 
 animals only. Did you stand a knock ? — and what did he allow ye for 
 the old trooper ? " 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 '•'Well, let me see if he's all right. You offered him eifjldy? — ■ 
 and you'll pay the money if anybody leaves you a fortune." 
 
 " Eighty ! — Pshaw ! Look again, Mark." 
 
 The fosterer made a circuit, and examined that horse which erst- 
 wliile had not borne "the weight of Antony," but the Due d'Abrantes. 
 
 " Oh, upon my conscience, I'm fairly puzzled. He's up to fourteen 
 .stone with fox-hounds ; and, unless he's a deceiver, he has tlie go in 
 liim. May be, ye promised a hunch'ed?" 
 
 '• A hundred I Why, Mark, I fancied you knew something of a 
 horse — a hundred?" 
 
 " Stop for a minute. Mister Cammaran, vrould ye be so civil as to 
 hold the bridle ?" and down got the fosterer. '• I'll just slip my hands 
 over his hocks. Clean as a whistle I What's tliat, inside the off leg ? — 
 It's a lump of clay. Feaks, I thought it looked like a splint at first. 
 Did 3'ou examine his wind ? " 
 
 " Never asked a question about it," I observed, carelessly. 
 
 " Then ye'r done to a turn. Oh ! Mister Empecinado, may the 
 divil's luck attend ye ! Spakin people fair and asy, and only waiting to 
 walk into them afterwards ! Did ye even get an engagement ? " 
 
 " Not a line ; — I took the horse on chance !" 
 
 '• Feaks I and ye m.ight as well, I fancy ; for I suppose if he was a 
 regular roarer" (here be it understood the horse and not the Empe- 
 cinado was meant), "all the attorneys in Connaught couldn't find 
 Mister Diez out, and serve him with a latitat." 
 
 '• But what is the horse worth, Mark ? Never mind latitats and 
 attorneys." 
 
 " Worth ? In Balinasloe he would fetch a hundred readily." 
 
 " Only a hundred?" 
 
HECTOR o'lIALLORAX. 307 
 
 " Well, if he took the pound-wall kiiullj, ye niiglit lay on thirty 
 more. Did he gave you a dacent luck-penny ? " ' 
 
 " Not a fartliing," 1 replied. 
 
 " Well, after all, the Spaniards are shabby divils in horse-dealing." 
 
 '• IMr. 6'Toole," I said gravely, — " without allusions to luck-pennies, 
 pound-walls, splints or spavins, — what is this horse worth?" 
 
 Mark Antony scratched his head, an invai-iahle remedy resorted to 
 bv an Irishman in a puzzle. 
 ' " If he's aU right— feeds well—" 
 
 '■ Come, come — tal<e all for granted." 
 
 '• Well," said Mark Antony, " he's value for a hundred and fifty, 
 or he's the biggest thief on eiirth. But I know there's not a wink ou 
 Mr. Diez, and he laid it on pi-etty heavy." 
 
 '• Which, light or heavy, you ingrate, Avill be yours," and I repeated 
 the terms of the bargain. 
 
 The fosterer was confused. 
 
 '• Well, in faith. Master Hector, they're the quarest people to deal 
 with I ever met w ith. One while ye'r drinking with them f\nr and 
 asy ; the nest jumping into a river to save ye'r Iffe. Here, half-a- 
 .'^core of men are shot ; there, another batch are hanged. The fellow 
 that sleeps beside you to-night is dead as a mackarcl the next morning. 
 All — haneins" and shooting — and you can nather make head nor tail of 
 what it's all about. That aitch'^' tliey call El Manco strings up the 
 postmaster, I suppose, because he mislays a letter ; and the Curate 
 throttles the mule-driver for no other reason than that he delivered 
 imother safely. Troth, I'm right glad that we have parted company, 
 although grately obliged to Mr. Diez for his civility. Isideed, I think 
 lie's the best of the batch. El Manco has the gallows in his face ; and 
 if it wouldn't be sinful to spake ill of the clargy, that father what-do- 
 ye-call-him in the colonel's coat, is one of the loosest-looking parish- 
 priests I ever came across. But, come, let us jog on ; the evening- 
 appears gloomy, and the Lord only knows Avhere we are to put up 
 to-night. If one could get into some quiet house for a wonder — not 
 that I expect to sleep — for sorra thing I'U drame of for a month of 
 hJundays, but gallowses, guerillas, dead men, and every kind of divilry 
 besides." 
 
 Before Mai'k Antony had done speaking, the partida rode up, pointed 
 to the dark appearance of the sky, and intimated that we had three 
 leagues to ride before v,e sliould reach our intended quarters. We 
 took the hint accordingly, and si)urred forward in the hope of reaching 
 our halting place before the rain came on. 
 
 We were disappointed. On the verge of the horizon, distant light- 
 ning began to scintillate like northern-lights ; and, hardly audible, now 
 and again the growl of a coming storm fell upon the ear. Momen- 
 •tarily the flashes became more vivid, tlie thunder became more distinct, 
 lai-ge drops fell, and the guide declared that the tempest must burst 
 immediately, and the first shelter we could reach would be a happy 
 deliverance. There was a venta immediately beside us. It Avas 
 
 * Aiiijlict- — " cripple."' 
 x2 
 
308 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 remote, ill-kept, and bore but an indiiFerent reputation. If we could 
 jnit up Avith bad fare and other inconveniences, there we would find 
 shelter. If, however, we would risk a drenching for more comfort, 
 we must abide the storm, and push on. We held a brief consultation. 
 Suddenly the sky appeared to open ; a flash of blue lightning issued 
 from the riven cloud — we felt its heat distinctly ; a peal of thunder, 
 such as I had never heard before, succeeded ; and with one voice we 
 cried out for the neighbouring venta. The guerilla turned instantly 
 sharp off into a narrow and neglected road, diverging on the left from 
 tlie main route. We followed on the spur, and just as the rain began 
 to fall we galloped into the yard of an inn, which had been once an 
 establishment of considerable extent. 
 
 Unpromising as it might appear, that evening it was eagerly desired. 
 A furlong ofi' we saw half-a-dozen horsemen spurring down the hill, 
 and evidently bound for the same destination. As precedency belongs 
 to the first comers, we were determined to secure that best point in 
 law — possession ; and while the guerilla and Mark Antony led the 
 liorses to the stable, the French voltigeur and I entered the house, 
 occupied the best corners of a bad kitchen, and made immediate 
 inquiries into the actual state of the larder and Avine bins. Alas ! 
 iieither question was replied to satisfactorily. All Avas ansAvered in 
 the past. On Tuesday, there had been a side of goat — three travelling 
 merchants pronounced it excellent ; on Wednesday, the same travellers 
 finished a pig — the best the landlord had killed since St. Stephen's ; 
 on Thursday, there had been partridges ; (Friday, being a meagre da5% 
 was omitted in the account;) on Saturday, pigeons and a podrida. 
 Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, every thing Avas also excellent, and 
 so varied that the host could not correctly enumerate the delicacies 
 under Avhich the table groaned. But, unluckily, to-day, and by 
 a mo^t calamitous iatality, nothing Avas to be had, good, bad or 
 indifierent ! 
 
 Before this miserable report had been concluded, a bustle in the 
 yard announced the arrival of the Avayfarers Avhom Ave had observed 
 pricking doAvn the hill; and Avhile Ave Avere still listening to some 
 wretched expedients Avhich the landlord Avas proposing as an apology 
 for a supper, two of the new comers made their entree. They 
 approached the tire, after having laid their Avet riding cloaks aside ; 
 and the difterence betAveen the external appearances of the tAvain Avas 
 so very ridiculous, that, by mutual impulse, Cammaran and I inter- 
 changed a smile. 
 
 One seemed an hildalgo of the Quixotic school— a thin, tall, shabby 
 half-starved looking gentleman. His gait Avas stiff and lofty ; and at 
 first, the unhappy man seemed to labour under a delusion that Ave Avoukl 
 resign a corner in his favour. Speedily that error of opinion was re- 
 moved ; and lie ascertained, that upon us the imprint of his dignity Avas 
 lost. He therefore contented himself Avith taking a place before the 
 fire, demanding, in lordly tones, attendance, and more fuel,—" but none 
 did come, though he did call for them." 
 
 The other Avas a round, stumpy, Avell-fed, happy -looking little man, 
 noAV touching close upon the grand climacteric. The world had evi- 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 309 
 
 dently gone well with him. to judge by what, in Ireland, they wouUt 
 terra " a cozey-character" of countenance. He poked the fire, but com- 
 plained not ; 'talked of the wild evening, and blessed the saints he was 
 under shelter ; hoped, rather than expected, that we might obtain a 
 supper; concluding with a Christian-like expression of resignation, that 
 really would have done honour to a Turk. New appeals were in the 
 interim made to the landlord. Tlie hidalgo swaggered ; well, as the 
 fancy say, it was " no go." The voltigeiu- stormed — the answer inva- 
 riably was, " I don't understand ye." The little man was responded to 
 by a'shrug ; and all we could learn from him of the posada was, that 
 the past had been a land of Goshen — the future bade fair to exceed it 
 — but that the present was a dreary blank, which might be bene- 
 ficially employed for the soul's health in the shape of mortification. 
 As for me, I should have objected, in FalstafF's vein, to fast " upon 
 compulsion," wlien the door opened, and in came our partida escort, 
 the fosterer, and three of the most ferocious-looking scoundi-els I ever 
 laid an eye upon, '• armed to the teeth." 
 
 " WhV, how now," exclaimed one of them, — " nothing like supper 
 yet?" 
 
 " Don't be in any Imrry," said the little man ; *' Senhor 1 — there 
 was one here, I think last Tuesday, and very excellent — roast pig, a 
 podrida, and some partridges ; and should you happen to pass this Avay 
 within a fortnight, you'll come in for a leg of a very promising porker, 
 provided they can only catch him in tlie beech-Avood." 
 
 The strangers began to storm ; the host appeared, reluctantly un- 
 derwent a searching examination ; and nothing transpired, but that 
 there had been, and would be, entertainment. A most unsatisfactory 
 discussion ensued. The hectoring of the ill-looking gentlemen, who 
 had just joined us, had no effect ; and as they say in England, that 
 there is a certain '• Duke Humplirey," who keeps a most inhospitable 
 table, I began to fancy that lie had another establishment in the 
 peninsula, and that for our sins, we had unluckily stumbled on the 
 house ; but, glory to the Empecinado I I was again beholden to him 
 for a supper. 
 
 Taking the host aside, the partida commenced a Avhispering con- 
 versation. What was the subject none could guess, but momentarily 
 the argument waxed warmer. The guerilla gesticulated — the land- 
 lord drew up his shoulders to his ears. At last the horseman's 
 countenance assumed a look of ferocity that threatened ruin to the 
 venta and all appertaining to the same ; and plunging his hand into 
 liis bosom, he suddenly produced — not a knife, as the host appre- 
 hended, to judge from the rapidity of his retreat — but a paper, of 
 small dimensions, whose writing appeared to possess a cabalistic 
 influence. 
 
 " Read I" cri.-d the partida, furiously. '•' And if thou wouldst not 
 have this old building reduced to ashes, and afterwards swing at thy 
 own sign-post before eight and forty hours pass, lead these gentlemen 
 to a fitting chamber, and prepare their supper incontinently. Dost 
 thou hesitate, fellow ?— Be it so — I will faithfully acquaint "the Em- 
 pecinado how willingly his orders were obeyed." 
 
310 THE FOPcTUNES OF 
 
 "By every saint in the calendar!" exclaimed tlie inihappy inn- 
 keeper, " you wrong me, sir. A dog sent hither by that most re- 
 spected gentleman, would be more Avelcome than another man's hors(\ 
 I fly to obey your orders. Oh ! that we had but killed the pig this 
 morning I JBut the will of Heaven be done !" 
 
 The eflfcct of Juan Diez' name upon the host was scarcely more 
 potent than it appeared upon the guests generally. The hidalgo lost 
 a moiety of his self-importance, the happy-looking little man became 
 uncomfortable, the audacity of the spados vanished, and every look in 
 the company was turned deferentially towards me, the Frenchman, and 
 the fosterer. 
 
 That this honest innkeeper had not held promise only to the ear, 
 was forthwith evidenced. Culinary operations commenced, and the 
 whole venta was immediately in an uproar. After despatching a sorry 
 meal of black bread and goat's-milk cheese, waslied down with a glass 
 or two of aqua ardiente, the ill-visaged travellers pleaded business, 
 and took their departure, although the rain fell fast, and the next 
 house of call was more than two leagues distant. Presently the host 
 appeared, and, with a profound bow, announced that the chamber for 
 our reception was in readiness. We rose and left the kitchen, and 
 were conducted into a half-ruined sort of hall, to which, however, a 
 tolerable wood fire and spread table gave a comfortable air. A leathern 
 bottle was on the table, to which we immediately applied ; and, witli 
 an assurance that all haste consistent with superior cookery should be 
 employed in tlie preparation of an excellent supper, the host left us 
 to ourselves. 
 
 " Not bad wine, by Saint Anthony 1" exclaimed Lieutenant 
 Cammaran. 
 
 " You have had some experience of Juan Diez as an enemy," I 
 replied ; "now what think you of him as a friend?" 
 
 " Think of him?" said the voltigeur : " wliy, that I would ratlier 
 travel Spain with his letter of introduction in my pocket, than even 
 with an autograpli of the Emperor's. He is a most estimable gentle- 
 man, Avere it not for that infernal fancy he has of using hemp and gun- 
 powder so liberally. No matter: as my neck's safe, here's your health, 
 I^mpecinado." 
 
 " But," observed the fosterer, " did j^on remark the effect the first 
 whisper of his name had upon the thiev(\s who set out upon their 
 travels for the evening? They're regular highwaymen, for a hundred, 
 — up to everything, from stripping a priest of his vestment, to stealing 
 a pinafore from a child. By tlie Lord I I tliought they would liave 
 choaked themselves struggling with cheese that would have soled a 
 shoe. But here's the old fellow of tlie inn,— I hope to tell us some- 
 thinp about supper." 
 
 The host announced the welcome tidings tluU in a few minutes our 
 repast should be paraded : and further added, that he was commissioned 
 to inquire whether we would permit the two gentlemen who had 
 remained in the kitchen, to join our company — and the host w^as 
 ready, even upon oath, to guarantee their respectability. The lineage of 
 the hidals>;o was so ancient, that all traces of it were lost ; and of the 
 
HECTOR OIIALLORAX. Gil 
 
 doctor, Fame spake loudly, as a personage who could do auytbiug Lut 
 raise the dead. To this double application I retiu-ned a gracious 
 reply ; and in five minutes a powerl'ul od<nir of garli<> and onions was 
 felt in the direction of the kitch.en, and the inkeeper re-entered witli a 
 huge turrecn, heralding to our presence the descendant of Don 
 Quixote, and liis friend the short stout gentleman. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI V 
 
 FAKTHER ADVENTUKES — MEilOIR OF THE VOLTIGEUR. 
 
 '■ She turned her face unto the -n-all. 
 Her colour changed to pallid clay ; 
 Lona: ere the de^rs began to fall. 
 The flower of Ettrick lifeless lay." 
 
 The Qcek-n's Yv'jike. 
 
 Xever -wa? a Lord flavor's dinner put on a table v>itli more cere- 
 raonv, than that with which our supper Avas served up ; and vet, the 
 whole entertainment Avas embodied in one tureen. "\Miat its contents 
 were, none, save those who designed and fobricated the mcdiev, could 
 even pretend to guess at. In an ocean of oleaginous liquid, a lean 
 fowl was floating, surrounded bv shapeless substances, Avhich might 
 possibly be either -'fish, flesh, or good salt herring." It looked grease, 
 and smelt garlic. The host, however, praised it excessively, and so 
 would an Esquimaux; but I am morally certain, it was the last thing, in 
 the shape of a light supper, tliat either Paris or Abernethy would have 
 recommended to a dyspeptic patient. 
 
 And yet it was marvellous how much the lean hidalgo and the little 
 doctor, "who all but raised the dead," managed to consume, and 
 seemed delighted Avith their fare. To me, it Avas an unspeakable re- 
 lief when the abominable composition was totally removed ; and indeed, 
 for an hour afterAvards, the apartment was not endurable. 
 
 Earlv, the hidalgo and physician Avere summoned to their dormitcry 
 and Avithdrew ; and Ave agreed generally that it Avas a prudent step on 
 the gentleman's part, the mess he had swallowed considered, to sleep 
 Avith his doctor in the apartment. 
 
 From the general appearance of the establishmer.t, Ave had no reason 
 to expect that the slee])ing department would be an exception to the 
 rest, and consequently Ave Avere in no hurry to make the experiment. 
 Some very Avretched wine Avas exchanged for better, on a hint from 
 the guerilla, that there Avas such a person as tlie Empecinado in ex- 
 istence. The Frenchman Avas exceedingly companionable ; the night 
 Avas wet and stormy : the partida heaped on wood, as if the host had 
 
312 THE FORTUNES OP 
 
 been proprietor of a forest ; and we still sate on, regardless of sundry 
 intimations from the innkeeper, that the clock of a neighbouring 
 monastery had .," gone twelve." 
 
 "And was this your first adventure, gentlemen?" inquired the 
 voltigeur. 
 
 " Our first in Spain," I replied ; " and certainly, in no smaller 
 portion of human life could more unexpected incidents have been 
 crowded, than into those which have just occurred." 
 
 " It is true," returned the Frenchman; " the opening of my militar}- 
 career was sufficiently eventful, but yours exceeds it far.", 
 
 " May I ask where the scene lay?" I demanded of the lieutenant. 
 
 " It commenced," he replied, " under the most brilliant successes 
 which ever intoxicated a conqueror — in Germany — only to witness the 
 greatest reverses which ever overtook insatiable ambition, I served, 
 gentlemen, in that accursed country, where the bones of three hundred 
 thousand gallant men are blanching — that grave to the glory of France, 
 that boundary to the ambition of Napoleon — Russia." 
 
 " And were you engaged in that luckless expedition ? " I inquired. 
 
 " I was. Mine is but a brief history ; and as you heard me, under 
 peculiar circumstances, make allusions to my orphan child, I will, in a 
 few words, tell you her father's story, and briefly detail the adven- 
 tures of 
 
 ^De Foltigcur. 
 
 " Like most of the distinguished officers in our sei'vicc — but c!o not, 
 gentlemen, suppose for a moment that I include myself in the list — I 
 am humbly born. My mother was the daughter of a vine-dresser — my 
 father, ranger of a forest. You see that I lay no claim to ancestry — 
 but the villagers assert that my parents were the handsomest and fondest 
 couple in the commune. Their course of love and life was brief alike. 
 My mother died in giving me birth — and three years afterwards my 
 father was shot accidentally by a chasseur, while hunting in the forest 
 of which he had the charge. 
 
 The grief felt and expressed by the Seigneur at tliis unfortunate 
 occui'rence Avas deep and lasting. At once he adopted me, and I 
 became an inmate of the chateau. Tliere I was brought up and edu- 
 cated ; and having evinced an early taste for music, that talent was 
 cultivated, and at eighteen I jjlayed on several instruments, and my 
 singing was particularly admired. 
 
 The Seigneur had an only child, a daughter. He had been early 
 left a widower ; and naturally of retired habits and sombre disposition, 
 he lived in comparative seclusion, dividing his time between two all- 
 engrossing objects, the chase and liis daughter's education. Pauline 
 was now fourteen, and of very opposite temperament to her father — 
 sprightly, spirited, and affectionate — every action was the effect of 
 impulse. Poor Pauline ! like many in the world, she acted first, and 
 thought of it afterwards. 
 
 With the father and the child I was eriually a favourit*^'. To the 
 
HECTOR o'HALLORAN. 313 
 
 forest I accompanied the Seigneur, when he hunted : and for Pauline, 
 I dressed her flower-garden, sang chayison (Tamonr, and played in the 
 evening on the flute. How long, in that remote domain, I might have 
 continued to dream life thus away I know not. The great event in 
 my history occurred — I was drawn in the conscription, and the guitar 
 was exchanged for the musket. 
 
 For three years I followed the eagles of the Emperor. Battle after 
 battle was won, and kingdom after kingdom submitted, and was par- 
 titioned or disposed of in whatever way was pleasing to the contiueror. 
 Europe was almost at Napoleon's feet ; and, save to England alone — 
 that indomitable enemy to hi? colossal strides towards the subjugation 
 of a world— his voice was law. After the signature of the treaty of 
 Tilsit, there came a short and deceitful calm. Many of the soldiery 
 obtained leave to revisit that laud a Frenchman loves so dearly. I was 
 of the number ; and one sweet September evening, he who had left 
 the chateau, half-huntsman half-troubadour, presented himself to the 
 Seigneur and Pauline, a sous-lieutenant. 
 
 AVhat a change three years had wrought upon us all I The Seig- 
 neur had become grey as a badger. I left Pauline a girl — I found 
 her a woman ; and the bud of beauty Avas now mature. On me the 
 alteration was still more striking ; and in the countenance of the dark- 
 browned soldier, bronzed by climate, and marked with a sword-scar, 
 it would have been diflacu'lt to recall the laughing features of the 
 youth, whose morn was passed idly in the chase, and his evening in 
 singing love-ditties to the moon. 
 
 The poor Seigneur knew nothing of the world. The hunter boy 
 was a safe companion for his daughter — the soldier a dangerous one. 
 No suspicion crossed his mind. I again took up my residence in the 
 chateau. Pauline was more than pretty ; the place was sadly remote ; 
 we were both musical — youth, loveliness, and music I Pshaw I these 
 cleared his way, and Love slipped in. 
 
 The Seigneur was rich — and on Avealth he set great value. His 
 lineage was old ; and nobody in Provence attached more importance 
 to descent. He had began to fancy that it would soon be time to 
 look for an alliance for his daughter ; and he occasionally made sly 
 inquiries touching the ancestry and rent-rolls of his neighbours. 
 Great, however, was our surprise, one afternoon, when he suddenly 
 announced that he had nearly concluded a marriage treaty between 
 Pauline and a wealthy proprietor. This information, at first astound- 
 ing, only precipitated what would have more tardily occurred. We 
 were married secretly, the next evening ; under other circumstances, 
 we might have been dreaming of it for another fortnight. 
 
 It was fortunate for us that the Seigneur was proverbially slow 
 in all his movements ; and his intended son-in-law equally cautious. 
 Neither would stir an inch, exce])ting under the especial direction of 
 his notary. All the time, the intimation simply that a hymeneal 
 treaty was in progress being deemed quite enough to render Pauline 
 a consenting party. The suitor was a fool, who considered every 
 woman would feel honoured by being allied to him ; and the simi)le 
 Seigneur could never comprehend, that any daughter should or could 
 
.3U THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 «lo otherwise than what her father exactly pointed out. Poor man ! 
 while he was arranprini^ matters to secui'e a son, he would have come 
 7iearer to the mark, had he been making preparations for the reception 
 of a grandaughter. 
 
 Lost in lovers' dreams, Pauline and I saw day after day pass ; and 
 frequently, when Ave spoke of a discovery, wliieii circumstances would 
 render inevitable before long, Ave laughed and trembled at the effect it 
 Avas likely to produce upon her father. It is true the event Avas somcAvhat 
 distant ; and as long as it Avere possible, the secret must be kept. But 
 a more sudden blow was impending — it fell, and both Avere rendered 
 miserable. 
 
 :{' ever man were drunk with fortune, it was Napoleon. He 
 ha I reached the highest pinnacle of human fortune, that the wildest 
 ambition could soar to ; yet, blinded by prosperity so dazzling, 
 he was dissatisfied, — and, forming the most romantic projects, like 
 a desperate gambler, he risked all that he had gained — " wearied 
 liis good genius, and provoked his fate." In a word, he first com- 
 menced an unjust and impolitic war here, in the peninsula, and 
 followed that madness out by a still madder act — the invasion of 
 Russia. 
 
 Although for more t1ian a year, the hostile attitudes assumed by 
 Napoleon and Alexander, shoAved mistrust on botli sides, fcAV sus- 
 pected that the crisis should come so suddenly. The remoteness of 
 the Seigneur's estate — the little intercourse he held Avith any Avho knew 
 Avhat was passing in the Avorld, left us in blissful ignorance. And the 
 first intimation I had, that I Avas about to enter on a bloody and 
 disastrous campaign, Avas a peremptory command to set out for 
 Dantzic at an hour's notice. The sudden onler prevented Pauline 
 and me from taking any steps to communicate the secret of our 
 marriage ; and at the moment AAdien Avoman requires the greatest 
 attention from a husband, I was obliged to abandon the home of my 
 youth, and her Avdiom I had SAVorn to cherish and protect. 
 
 Already the routes throuidi Germany Avere crowded Avith enormors 
 masses of fighting men. Never, in modern warfare, Avas such an 
 army collected and set in motion. Conceive more than five hundred 
 thousand combatants, of all arms — including sixty thousand horsemen, 
 and twelve hundred pieces of artillery ! The very enormity of the 
 vast machine Avould have required a superhuman mind to direct it. 
 
 I need not dwell upon the campaign. On we went !— on — on — on ! 
 as if ur"-ed bv an overruling fatality. The Russians prudently 
 retired — that was called fear — the Aveather for a fcAV days Avas 
 moderate ; and our leader madly fancied that the horrors of the 
 icy north Avere f\ibulous. Oh ! hoAv fatally that fiiliacy of his turned 
 out ! 
 
 I pass the less interesting portion of this tragic campaign. The 
 mind that conceived the monsti'ous undertaking, could not be sane. 
 The haughty assumption of the Emperor struck many a thinking 
 soldier as being incompatible Avith the statesman's prudence ; and 
 Avdien assuming the mantle of prophecy, and in reply to a temperate 
 appeal, exclaiming, "a fatality involves them ; let their destinies be 
 
IIECTO!l O IIALLORAX. SI.') 
 
 fulfilled !" he rejected conciliatory advance?, and fliHi,;:; the scabbard 
 from the sword, more than TallejTand pronounced, that Fortune and 
 he had shaken hands and parted ; and the sad results of that mad 
 aggression upon Russia proved its truth. 
 
 A circumstance occurred, that looked like an c^ il augury ; and, to 
 the superstitious, foreboded evil results. Althougli tlie month Avas 
 July, at Pilony a rain storm nearly overwhelmed the men and horses 
 of a whole division. Ot" the latter, several hundreds were lost ; and 
 at Lismori, a thunderbolt fell into the bivouac uf tlio Old Guard, and 
 destroyed several of our veteran soldiers. 
 
 But the decree was passed ; and our leader pushed forward where, 
 the finger of destiny pointed. At Witepsk, the enemy presented 
 themselves in order of battle, after retiring, in perfect order, and 
 holding every inch of forest through which we passed. That tliey 
 were intimidated, was a manifest absurdity ; their skirmishers held tli(^ 
 ground boldly and freely, — mingled with ours as they advanced. From 
 the audacity with which they awaited our approach, and singled out 
 individuals, we lost some valuable officers ; and in the very centre of 
 his escort, General Roussel was pistoled by a Russian dragoon. It 
 ■was evident that policy, not fear, induced the enemy to recede. In a 
 cavalry affair, the next morning, a regiment of chasseurs were charged, 
 and heavily cut u^) by some squadrons of the Cossack Guard, and 
 nothing but the immediate support of an infantry corps saved them 
 from destruction. Napoleon was a looker-on, and directed the move- 
 ment by which the regiment was rescued. 
 
 On the heights beyond the Louchesa, wc observed the vthole 
 Russian army in position. A battle would be received, and v.-c; 
 bivouacked, waiting for morning, to fail on. At day-break we vrere. 
 under arms. "Where was the enemy Ave were to assail ? On the 
 preceding night, Barclay de Tolly had abandoned his position ; and 
 that, too, witii so little precipitation, that the very route he took was 
 doubtful ; — neither dismounted guns, nor dead horses, pointing the 
 line of his retreat. The youngest soldier, as he passed over a coun- 
 try ravaged and deserted, began to suspect the reason that a conflict 
 had been declined. It Avas masterly policy ; and the sacrifices it cost 
 in the outset, were amply repaid in the end. 
 
 At this period of tlie adA'ance, we suffered dreadfully from heat and 
 scarcity of Avater. Many a re'd'e vroustache asserted that an Egyptian 
 sun was more endurable. Then, the weather Avould change suddenly, 
 — rain fall in torrents, — and, from the difficulty of the roads, render 
 marching almost impracticable. We thouglit our liardships scA'cre 
 enough. Little did Ave imagine those that remained in store ! 
 
 Smolensko Avas fought — and, after a doubtful contest, the victory 
 was gained. — Gained ! "When the city could no longer be defended, 
 the Russians fired it, simultaneously, in an hundred quarters ; and 
 the fruits of a bloody conflict was a town laid in ashes by the very 
 men Avho held it so desperately to the last ! 
 
 On other points, the French arms Avere equally snccessfid ; and hero 
 it was believed tliat Xapoleon vn'ouM pause ; organize Poland — hold 
 Riga, Witep^k, and Smolensko, — and wait the return of spring. But, 
 
316 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 having dictated terms to the conquered, even in the palaces they had 
 occupied — regardless of desert roads and coming -winter, without 
 magazines or hospitals, and, leaving the Moldavian army in his rear, he 
 determined to march direct upon " the sacred city." It was said, that 
 the prudent of those around him, remonstrated strongly against this 
 act of madness ; but the Emperor's resolution -was not to be shaken. 
 
 On Ave went ; and the Russians, to cover Moscow, received battle 
 on the heights of Borodino. With nearly equal numbers, two hun- 
 dred and fifty thousand combatants were for twelve hours engaged in 
 murderous conflict. Night ended it. The victors bivouacked on the 
 ground they had gained at a sacrifice that shocks humanity — and the 
 vanquished retired in perfect order, leaving the conquerors a field of 
 battle. God ! such a field as the morning of the 8th disclosed I — 
 sixty thousand dead or dying men, interspersed with five-and-twent}' 
 thousand horses. 
 
 Well, the road to Moscow was open, but every step we advanced 
 showed the madness of the proceeding. If we reached a town, we 
 found it in a blaze ; if we met a village, it was totally deserted. 
 Cattle were driven ofi'; provisions burned or bm-ied ; the peasantry 
 had risen en masse; and every man's hand was against us ; but still 
 our infatuated leader persevered in his mad career, and recklessly 
 pushed on. 
 
 It was fondly supposed, that Moscow once gained, our hardships 
 would terminate, and a winter of repose reward the privations we had 
 undergone. Tliat hope was false ; Moscow, like the meanest village 
 we had seen ruined, was also devoted to destruction. We entered it 
 at noon ; few inhabitants had remained ; and none were seen in the 
 deserted streets but a few felons who had left the jails, and some 
 Avretched outcasts of the other sex. Every dwelling, from the palace 
 of the noble to the shop of the meanest artisan, was abandoned. The 
 churches alone contained any living occupants, and they were tlie 
 wounded only, or those whom age or infimcy had rendered incapable 
 of retiring with the remainder of its inhabitants from the doomed 
 city. 
 
 Although an army was in the place, still it looked a splendid desert. 
 Every soldier whom you met was loaded with costly plunder. It 
 appeared a city of enchantment. Houses, splendidly furnished, invited 
 the passer to go in ; and he might have freely traversed every sump- 
 tuous room Avhicli the building contained, and met with nothing 
 living. It was, in truth, a fearful picture of deserted magnificence. 
 
 Suddenly, an alarm was heard. It was not caused either by secret 
 surprise, nor an approaching enemy. At several points a dense smoke 
 was visible ; fiames broke out in difterent quarters of the city ; no 
 water was to be procured, nor engines could be found ; and a fearful 
 rumour began to prevail, that Moscow had been determinately fired. 
 
 It was too true. By an act of desperate devotion, every private 
 feeling had yielded to public necessity — the most extraordinary 
 national sacrifice which history records was decreed and executed — 
 and '"'the sacred city" was laid in ashes, by the hands of those who 
 regarded it witli a holy v(^neration, approaching to idolatry. 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 317 
 
 To Napoleon the destruction of Moscow was a blow neither ex- 
 pected nor remediable. The stake, for which he played the wildest 
 game, was at the same moment, won and lost. To|[ reach the city uf 
 the Czars was the object for which he cast every prudential conside- 
 ration to the winds — and what resulted ? He dated a few despatches 
 from the ruins of a city, to gain which two hundred thousand soldiers 
 were to form the sad consideration. 
 
 The fire momentarily increased — the wind rose, blew in a fatal 
 direction, and the flames sj^read fearfully. There were quarters which 
 the raging element had not reached, but incendiaries fired the houses, 
 and the whole city was speedily sheeted in one broad blaze, far too 
 irresistible for human agency to arrest. Then followed violence and 
 rapine. Those of the inhabitants who had not removed, secreted them- 
 selves in vaulted cellars, or the remoter portions of their houses, most 
 likely to alFord concealment ; while others remained before shrine and 
 altar, trusting to their sanctity for protection. From all, the angry 
 element obliged those unfortunates to retire. They Avere forced into 
 streets where bands of drunken soldiers mingled with galley-slaves and 
 robbers, launched by sad accident as a curse upon the world again, 
 and maddened now by intoxication. "With all the excesses of plunder, 
 they mingled the most degrading and horrible debauchery. " Neither 
 nobility of blood, the innocence of youth, nor the tears of beauty, were 
 respected. The licentiousness was cruel and boundless ; but it was 
 inevitable, in a savage war, in which sixteen diiferent nations, oppo- 
 site in their mannei-s and their language, thought themselves at liberty 
 to commit every ci'ime." 
 
 That night I never rested for a second. Though removed from the 
 immediate vicinity of the conflagration, the lurid glare of the burning- 
 city penetrated the closet in which I sought repose, and female shrieks, 
 and deeper cries of murder, fell loud and frequent on the ear. To 
 add to the horror of the hellish scene, even animal sufferings were 
 added. The watch-dogs, chained at the doors, had not been liberated ; 
 and as the flames reached them, their bowlings were heart-rending. 
 
 God forbid that I should ever witness such a scene again ! The 
 next day came. The fire raged more furiously than ever, and murder 
 and violence, and every villany, continued. I strove, if possible, to 
 fly from human crime and suffering ; and in the evening found myself 
 clear of the walls of Moscow, in a suburb totally detached, and, to all 
 appearance, entirely deserted. 
 
 Generally, tlie houses were mean, and had belonged to the humbler 
 classes, who live in the environs of a city. Here and there, houses 
 enclosed with gardens and high walls were interspersed ; and, as 
 I afterwards understood, were residences of wealthy merchants, who 
 neither would incur the expense or affect the display which the occu- 
 pancy of nobler mansions within the walls demanded. I looked back — 
 the city was in a blaze — a sheet of fire and smoke, by turns, as the 
 iiames were fed or smouldered. The lonely suburb, whither I had 
 wandered, was deserted, but not ravaged. Indeed, here the plmiderer 
 would have only wasted time, when witlxin there was so much to repay 
 ihe most boundless cupidity. ^ 
 
318 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Accident directed me : I turned down a narrow passage ; a lane led 
 to a garden-gate ; it was open, and the ruins of what had been n 
 pretty country house were visible. The garden was destroyed — the 
 shrubs and fruit-trees broken — many hoof-marks were apparent in the 
 soft earth ; and litter strewed the ground, and showed, that the evening 
 before the Emperor entered Moscow, an advanced picket had made 
 the chateau and grounds its bivouac. No living thing was visible ; 
 a dog-chain hung beside the door of the ruined mansion. Even that 
 v.'as a mute testimony of abandonment. 
 
 I was still looking at the deserted building, and fancying the happy 
 home it might have been but a few days since, when a Avild and 
 piercing shriek was heard from the rear ; and a young girl rushed 
 from behind the house, followed by two Polish lancers, and both were 
 infuriated with brandy. One seized her in his arms. I called on 
 him to desist; but he held her with a firmer grasp, while his com- 
 panion confronted me — and in a moment both sabres were inisheathed, 
 and we commenced a deadly combat. Of the two, I was the 
 better swordsman ; — pressed the villain hard — and would have cut 
 Mm down. — I heard a wild scream, — a blow from behind stunned 
 nie — a dreamy recollection followed of others fighting. The rest 
 is blank. 
 
 I awoke — where was I ? Candles burned at my bed-side ; and an 
 old man, and a girl, particularly handsome, sate at either side. 
 
 '• Where am I ?" Avas my first cpxestion. The girl replied, in tole- 
 i-able French, and assured me I was in 'perfect safety, and all around 
 me were friends. Gradually, my memory came back ; and in the 
 young female at my side, I recollected her whom I had protected. 
 
 It appeared, that in tlie affray I had with the lancers, I had been 
 cut down by a treacherous blow from the comrade of the fellow I was 
 engaged Avith. The cries of the girl, and the clasliing of sabres, 
 alarmed the family, Avho came to my assistance too late to save me 
 from injury, but in time to revenge, Avhat they believed to be, my 
 death. The villains Avere despatched Avithout mercy — their bodies 
 concealed till night, and then carried to a distance, and thrown into a 
 sewer, — a necessary precaution, to prevent the suspicion that might 
 arise should they have been discovered, and their deaths have occa- 
 sioned inquiry. 
 
 '•Where was I ? I looked around, and saw that the apartment was 
 vaulted, and lighted by a lamp. Everything Avas not only comfortable, 
 but luxurious — and PoloAvna — for so the fair girl Avho nursed me Avas 
 designated, at my request explained the mystery. 
 
 Her father and kinsmen Avere merchants : and Avhen Xapoleon 
 menaced Russia Avith invasion, Avith more forethought than was gene- 
 rally exercised, they prepared against a visitation that, though not 
 probable, was still within the range of possibility. Beneath their 
 country house, cellars of spacious size had been originally constructed, 
 Avith a secret entrance, Avherein to deposit merchandise Avhich the 
 Russian laws declared contraband. Though long disused, in this 
 season of insecvxrity they Avere prepared for a different pvu-pose. When 
 the field of Borodino proved unsuccessful, and Napoleon approached 
 
HECTOH OHALLORAX. 319 
 
 the sacred city, Strenowitz, as the merchant was called, had everything 
 valuable transferred from the chateau to the cellars ; and having laid 
 in all necessaries for supplying his family aiid servants during 
 their continement, the dwelling was apparently deserted, — and even 
 those who resided in his immediate neighbourhood, believed that he had 
 followed the example of the wealthier Moscowites, and removed into 
 the interior. The destruction of the chateau, by the jjicket who had 
 occupied it, added to the secm-ity of the family ; — a ruined house held 
 out no inducement to the plunderer ; and, excepting the evening 
 Polowna was siu'prised by the marauders who had wounded me, and 
 paid the penalty with death, the concealment of Strenowitz escaped 
 any visitation from the enemy, during the period that Xapolcou con- 
 tinued to occupy his dearly-bought conquest. 
 
 My recovery was tedious, — the scull liad been shghtly fractm'ed ; 
 and hence great care was necessary. Kever was a soldier more ten- 
 derly attended to ; and had I heart to spare, it should have been 
 oiFered to Polowna. To quit my concealment would have compro- 
 mised the safety of my young preserver ; and, indeed, until after 
 Napoleon abandoned Moscow, and commenced his calamitous retreat, 
 I should not have been able to leave my couch. 
 
 Too late the Emperor found the terrible truth confirmed, to which 
 he had hitherto obstinately refused credence. Vt'e could no longer 
 remain in that ruined capital, which he had risked everything to 
 obtain ; and Laiu'iston's mission to Kutusoff proved a failure. The 
 22d of October v.as the day of our deUverance. The young guard 
 retii'ed from the ruins of Moscow ; and, in an hour aftervrards, a 
 tremendous explosion announced that the last work of destruction was 
 completed, and tlie Kremlin was no more. 
 
 The retreat of the invading army forms a frightful picture of retri- 
 butive suffering. It shall be passed over ; — one fact will tell its 
 fearful histoiy. — Fom- hundred thousand splendid soldiers, at the opening 
 of the campaign, passed the ISTeimen : on the 13th of December, which 
 may be talcen as the termination of the retreat, scarcely twenty 
 thousand men recrossed that fatal stream. 
 
 For my own part, I had long since been reported dead ; and when 
 my health was sufficiently restored, when the exertions of my excellent 
 protectors obtained my liberty, and I rejoined the skeleton of my 
 regiment, I Avas looked upon by the few surviAors as one retm'ned 
 from the grave. But every league that bi'ought me nearer to France 
 seemed to remove a weight from my bosom, and my heart beat lighter. 
 Pauline, in all her pride of beauty, was before my eyes — and in fancy, 
 I was a father. I obtained leave to return home for the recovery 
 of my health — and I hunied to that home where the smiles of my young 
 In-ide would welcome me. Alas I Pauline was in the grave, and a 
 broken-hearted old man and helpless orphan, occupied a dwelling in 
 all the gloom of bereavement, which once was the abode of loveliness 
 and plighted faith. I listened to the sad nai-ration half stupified with 
 gi'ief. Pauline had confessed her secret marriage, and had been for- 
 given. The hour of trial came ; and, at that tb-eaded moment, the 
 intelligence of mv supposed .death was rashly communicated — arid it 
 
320 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 killed lior ! Enough ; I bore the visitation like a man ; and when an 
 order came to join a battalion of my regiment in Spain, I willingly 
 obeyed it. You know the rest ; and, but for you, if the dead are 
 united in another world — as my heart fondly tells me that they 
 are — I would have been with thee, Pauline ! 
 
 He stopped ; a tear trickled down his cheek ; and, to divert the 
 sadness of his thouglits, I proposed that we should retire for the night. 
 The host lighted us to a dirty and comfortless apartment ; and, 
 without undressing, we threw ourselves on the outside of the bed- 
 coverings, and, wrajjped in our cloaks, were speedily asleep. We 
 were still fast as watchmen, when the guerilla roused us. For all, he 
 had agreeable intelligence. There was a post established lately by 
 General Laval, but two leagues off, occupied by a party of French 
 lancei's. — tliat the voltigeur could join easily. A few miles, in an 
 opposite direction, a squadron of Julian Sanchez light cavalry were 
 cantoned ; and once with them, the fosterer and I would be in safety. 
 Accordingly, after an early breakfast, we took leave of each other, 
 each to follow out his respective fortunes, and, not improbably, meet 
 again — upon a field of battle. 
 
 One thing I must not forget : Avhen summoned to the court -yard 
 to mount our horses, we found tlie hidalgo and his friend, the little 
 physician, settling accounts with the worthy host. On certain charges 
 in the score, the parties lield very opposite opinions. A long and 
 bootless argument ensued ; and, as disputants occasionally will part, the 
 monetary transaction of tlie morning seemed to have raised neither 
 in the estimation of the other. 
 
 In turn I advanced to the landlord, paraded my purse, and de- 
 manded in what I was indebted for great hospitality, excellent wine, 
 and a supper. 
 
 " That would kill the divil ! " was an addition of the fosterer's. 
 
 With a profound bow, the host begged to leave the consideration 
 entirely to myself, and forthwith I produced a guinea. I never saw 
 joy so strikingly displayed : every line of the landlord's face expanded 
 — the lip curled graciously — the eye sparkled ; when a change as 
 suddenly came over it, and the countenance at once changed to the 
 very picture of despair. What could have caused this change ? I 
 turned my head. Immediately behind me the partida guide was 
 standing, his finger in a monitory position, wliile his dark eye told the 
 rest. 
 
 " Not for worlds," faltered the unhappy man, " would I accept 
 one real for any poor service I could show a dog — I beg pardon, 
 Senhor, — a gentleman, who has the honour of Don Juan Diez' ac- 
 (juaintance ! " 
 
 The guerilla motioned us to ride on. I did not look back, but 
 a groan reached me from the doorway of the venta, as if a heart 
 had broken. There was no mistake about it — tlie landlord was the 
 sufferer ! 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN. 321 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 RETURN TO THE ALLIED ARMY — LETTERS FROM ENGLAND. 
 
 " King Hcnnj. How now ! what news? Why com'st 
 thou in such haste ? " 
 
 King IIexry VI. 
 " Juliet. 0, for a falconer's voice, 
 To lure this tassel-gentle back again ! "' 
 
 Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 TuE absolute authoi-ity exercised by the Partida leaders over the 
 Spanish population, was apparent in the readiness with which their 
 orders were obeyed — and of this, the independent style in which we 
 had lived at free quarters for the last week, would have been a sufficient 
 guarantee. Not contented with the demolition of his supper and the 
 occupation of the state apartments, we found that " mine host" had been 
 laid under farther requisitions, and obliged to remount the Frenchman 
 and Mark Antony, whose horses were sent back by two villagers to the 
 mountains.- To a casual inquiry that I made touching the safe delivery 
 of the animals, the guerilla, Avho accompanied us, replied Avith a stare 
 expressive of surprise that a doubt should be entertained upon the 
 subject ; and then pointing significantly to his neck, he led us to clearly 
 understand, that nothing insures punctuality and despatch like an 
 occasional application of the halter. 
 
 In the course of an hour's ride we fell in with the party we ex- 
 pected, and our guide delivered tis over to their safe keeping, That 
 night we were entertained at the expense of an alcade, who loaded us 
 with civilities, and would listen to no hint of ours touching remunera- 
 tion in the morning. The extent of his hospitality, and the anxiety 
 he evinced to anticipate our wants, drew forth from me a flattering 
 eulogium. As I proceeded, the guerilla leader merely shrugged his 
 shoulders — and then privately assured me, that this generous functionary 
 was one of the greatest scoundrels in the province, and that he was 
 more than suspected of intriguing with the French. " He fancies that 
 he blinds us — no matter — we know him well — all I shall say, my 
 friend, is — that for the horse you ride, I would not have my neck in 
 the same insecurity." 
 
 As he spoke, we gained the crest of a hill which commanded an 
 extensive view of the flatter country that lay beneath, and from a small 
 wood, at a league's distance in our front, we ])erceivcd the smoke of a 
 
 Y 
 
322 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 large fire curling upwards. The partiJa pointed to the spot, and told 
 us that there a picket of light German cavalry was bivouaced, and 
 therefore, that his escort was no longer necessary — then bade us a 
 friendly farewell — and in half an hour the fosterer and I found oui*- 
 selves once more within the allied outposts. 
 
 On announcing myself to the officer in command as the bearer of a 
 private despatch for Lord AVellington, I was furnished with a fresh 
 horse and the escort of a couple of dragoons — and leaving tlie 
 Empecinado's present to the care of the fosterer, I immediately rode 
 off to reach head-cpaarters at Frcnada. 
 
 As I passed through the different cantonments, I fancied a general 
 activity prevailed among the soldiers, which formed a striking contrast 
 to the quiet and repose in which, a week befoi-e, I had left the allied 
 camp. On the roads I had frequently encountered convoys moving in 
 various directions, and the commissariat department seemed to be 
 jiarticularly on the alert. AYith an Irish officer, who was riding in the 
 same direction, I entered into conversation for a few minutes, while 
 I and my escort breathed our horses over a rough road that rendered 
 a quicker movement dangerous ; and from him I ascertained that the 
 allied array was in perfect readiness, and it was the general opinion 
 that "Lord Wellington had mischief in his head !" As he spoke, 
 wheeling round a bending of the road, we came suddenly in sight of 
 another that crossed it at right angles; and at a quarter of amile's distance, 
 observed a staiF-officer, follo\ved hj an orderly dragoon, riding towards 
 the point of junction at a pace which led me to infer that, like myself, 
 he was the bearer of despatches. " Talk of the devil," exclaimed my 
 loving countryman — " may the Lord forgive me for saying so ! — but 
 that's himself ! " The hint was quite sufficient — I spurred my horse, 
 cantered safely over as rugged a causeway as man could meet with — 
 reached the cross-roads — and halted at the point of junction, before the 
 allied commander gained it. 
 
 On perceiving me pull up, Lord TWxlingron reined his horse in, 
 and a brief colloquy ensued. 
 
 " Your name ?" 
 
 '• O'Halloran." 
 
 " Whence come you ?" 
 
 ••' From the Empecinado." 
 
 '• Where is he?" 
 
 " Heaven only knows. 
 
 ■" Your business ?" 
 
 " To deliver a French despatcli." 
 
 " Are you aware of the contents ?" 
 
 " No — we could not read it ;" and I placed the packet in liis hand. 
 
 At one rapid glance his eye ran over the secret characters — 
 
 " Ha ! I have the key," he muttered ; then placing the document in 
 his coat pocket, he desired me to ride on, report myself at head 
 qr.arters, wait there for further orders, gave his horse the reins — and 
 thus ended an interview that had barely occupied a minute. 
 
 I remembered the marked politeness which he had lavished upon Peter 
 Crotty, and marvelled that his lordship had not the civility to even bid 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 323 
 
 " good morning " to a gentleman, -who Lad risked a broken neck lo 
 cany him a sheet-full of hieroglyphics. 
 
 I obeyed the order ; and intending to hold myself^ in readiness, in 
 the event of his lordship requiring any further information respecting 
 the singular manner in -which the intercepted despatch had been ob- 
 tained and co'nfided to me, was seeking some place wherein I might 
 deposit my person in the interim, v.hen whom should I stumble on 
 in the street, but the fortunate object of the Great Captain's hospi- 
 tality — Lieutenant Crotty ! 
 
 " Arrah ! — murder — is it you ?" Avas Peter's opening inquiry. 
 
 I assured him of my identity. 
 
 " And who would have expected to meet ye here ?" continued 
 Peter ; '• and what the divil druv ye back ?" 
 
 '■' Wliy — I returned on an errand similar to your own on the morn- 
 ing of that auspicious day when I had the pleasure of fii'st making 
 your acquaintance." 
 
 '•'And what was that?" demanded Mr. Crotty — "for upon my con- 
 science I forget it." 
 
 " Nothing more, than to transact a little private business with Lord 
 Wellington." 
 
 '' Have ye met him yet ?" inquired Peter. 
 
 " Merely on the road ; I expect, however, to be favoured with an 
 evening interview." 
 
 '•' Ah, then," responded Mr. Crotty, " a pleasanter gentleman ye 
 never met. I hadn't time to finish my story ; for I remember that 
 ould bothering divil of a Colonel called me off. Well — when I rose 
 to come away, he, that's Lord Wellington, says tome, 'Arrah, Peter, 
 won't ye sit a little longer ? ' ' Bad manners to me,' says I, ' but 
 it's more than I dare do.' ' What a pity ye'r in such hurry,' says he, 
 ' I suppose, however, it can't be helped at present ; but the next 
 time ye come, Peter, put ye'r best breeches into your portmantle, 
 and stop with us as long as ye can.' " 
 
 " And is his lordship generally so hospitable and polite to every 
 body that drops in with a message ?" 
 
 " Oh, then, upon my sowl! he's not. And if I swore it on a bag full 
 of bibles, there's some of the divils here that wouldn't believe me. For 
 one, there's Major Fitzmaurice — and, Holy Mary I now that I mind 
 it — hasn't he a whole bundle of letters for you ! and he's in the town 
 too. — Well, I'm not bothered with letter-writin, and that's a comfort. 
 What would they have to tell me from home, but that rack rents would 
 be their ruin — and what could I say in favour of this villanous country, 
 where, if a man at times happens to have a dollar in his pocket, he 
 couldn't get a drop to wet liis whistle, although it was dry as a lime- 
 burner's wig, because the people have neither change nor dacency. 
 But — see — there's the man I spoke about — and now, may the Lord 
 bless ye, if it's possible." So saying, and pointing out Major Fitz- 
 maurice, Peter bolted round a corner, as he termed it, " for a rason 
 he had of his own." 
 
 In Major Fitzmaurice, I easily recognised the kind personage wlio 
 had shared his tent with me on my first appearance in cantonment?. 
 
 y2 
 
324 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Like Peter Crotty, lie also expressed much surprise at seeing me 
 again, when, as it might have been supposed, I was en route to 
 Valencia. 
 
 " I have a packet of letters for you," he said ; " and in hope that 
 I miglit meet with somi?body bound ibr the east of Spain, I have 
 carried them in my pocket. How fortunate to have dropped upon 
 you ! I came in to dine with some friends on the staff who are 
 quartered in Frenada; and, if you have no better engagement, you shall 
 join them with me, and in the evening we will return to the old shop. 
 There it stands as formerly — the same mattrass and bullock-trunk — - 
 and 'ceade millia fealteagh.' Talking of trunks — I saw Peter Crotty 
 leave you. He has put a finish to his celebrated visit to Lord 
 "Wellington. Did he tell you of 'the portmantle,' as he calls it, and 
 his 'best breeches ' into the bargain ?" 
 
 " All these important fiicts were faithfully narrated to me." 
 
 " Then come along — I'll give you your despatches when I find my 
 great coat ; and by the time you have perused them, dinner will be 
 ready." 
 
 I found, on opening the packet, four letters addressed to me, and 
 two to the fosterer. Mine were respectively written by my parents, 
 my uncle, and my mistress — and, may Heaven forgive me ! love left 
 duty in the back-ground, and Isidora's was the first seal broken. 
 
 I could scarcely believe that the letter I perused was hers. Not a 
 year since I met her a timid and retiring girl — she had never mingled 
 with society — to her, man was strange— she blushed when addressed — 
 and if she answered, 
 
 " back recoiled, she knew not why, 
 E'en at the sound herseU' had made." 
 
 But now, girlish apprehension had given place to woman's firmness, 
 and with gentle but modest sincerity, she repeated her assurances 
 of attachment, told me how much pain my absence caused, and urged 
 me, " if I loved her," to return. 
 
 My lady mother, of course, claimed next precedency. Her letter 
 Avas dated from London — for thither she had proceeded, as it appeared, 
 accompanied by her honoured lord. It breathed the warmest wishes of 
 maternal anxiety for my safety — hoped, as I was in a Catholic country, 
 that I occasionally attended mass ; hinted that my father became more 
 intolerant, since the priest had cursed Mark Antony for his truant 
 conduct to Biddy Toole — wondered what had brought them, meaning 
 my father and herself, to England — and on this point, she seemed at 
 a dead loss even to imagine what the object of their singular migration 
 ■would prove to be. It had been suddenly occasioned by the receipt 
 of a letter ; and whether the poor dear Colonel was come over to 
 speculate in the stocks, or raise a regiment— which latter might God 
 forbid ! the thing was equally mysterious. She had been introduced 
 to a Mr. Hartley and his daughter — English Catholics, and the nicest 
 people in the world. Would to Heaven, she continued, that, instead 
 of following a horrible profession, in which body and soul were equally 
 endangered, I would many Miss Hartley — and, avoiding the dear 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAX. 325 
 
 ColoiiL'l's example, settle down for life with the general complement of 
 legs and arms. There was an extensive repetition of atfectionate 
 rigmarole in prayers and wishes ; but the gist lay, lady -like, in the 
 Postsci-ipt. 
 
 " Remember the gospel I bound round your neck. Preserve it — 
 but open it only in extremity." 
 
 Mr. Hartley's epistle was purely diplomatic, and couched in such 
 general terms, tluit while they conveyed a meaning clearly, had 
 the letter fallen into the hands of my grandfather's confessor, I ques- 
 tion whether the Jesuit himself could have unravelled it. All, as he 
 led me to understand, went prosperously. My parents were on the 
 spot, and perfectly unconscious of the action of the di-ama. He, 
 Mr. Hartley, wished me to return as quickly as I could with proper 
 respect to character. He concluded with one comprehensive sen- 
 tence — " The cards play favourably— the crisis is at hand." 
 
 Had I expected to glean any information from my father's despatch, 
 I should have been grievously disappointed. He had come to London, 
 as he admitted, " the Lord knew why." The mysterious present of 
 500/. had reached him in annual course, and the letter which enclosed 
 it, conveyed a wish to visit the metropolis, that he deemed prudent to 
 obey. To a Mr. tlartley, he had been especially recommended as a 
 person deeply engaged in some secret proceedings, which might prove of 
 important advantage to his family and himself. As yet, Mr. H. had 
 not explained what these proceedings were ; but, as he had assured him, 
 the Colonel, that I was cognisant of all, and that in a few days himself 
 should be fully informed on the subject, he had, for dehcate reasons, 
 forbore to press an explanation. The rest of the letter was rambling 
 and unimpo)-tant. It detailed the cursing of Mark Antony, and his 
 own feud consequently, with the priest — a disquisition upon out-post 
 duty — attack in close columns, and movements by echellons. It then 
 proceeded to state, that as Mr. Hartley had assured him that my stay 
 on the Peninsula would be short, and my speedy retirement from the 
 army a certainty, he, the Colonel, would recommend me, as I had 
 lost my staff" appointment, to decline going to the east of Spain, retire 
 from the Twenty-seventh, and continue with Lord "Wellington's army 
 fis a volunteer. I should thus see more service and sharp hghting — in 
 my case a great desideratum. Acting independently, I might have 
 i'requent opportunities of distinguishing myself, which otherwise 
 would only come in regimental routine. Every one expected that 
 the next Avould be a splendid campaign. For his own part, he had 
 hoped to have slipped over for a few months when the army took the 
 field, but the bare hint at the intention sent my mother into hysterics. 
 Here v/as a parenthesis about "weakness of women." The whole con- 
 cluded in his observing that, if I had luck, many opportunities might 
 present themselves ; but breaches, field-works, and defended bridges, 
 were especially recommended for me to try my hand upon. The Lord 
 might even send " a forloi n hope" in the way — that would be a happy 
 chance — but then "people must not be too sanguine." 
 
 Indeed, more ingenious instructions forgetting a man securely shot, 
 were never penned by an affectionate parent. Thameans were so easy 
 
326 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 and comprelicnsive, that I could have half persuaded myself that 
 Mr. Clifford's steward and confessor had been of the number of coun- 
 sellors whom the worthy Colonel had called in. 
 
 I had just completed the perusal of my varied correspondence, when 
 my friend the Major called for me, and announced that dinner was 
 waiting. I accompanied him to another apartment, where I found 
 half a dozen gentlemen, whose " trade was war," congregated around 
 a table less remarkable for correctness of appointment than solidity of 
 fare. None give and receive a wai-mer welcome than soldiers upon 
 service — I met a kind reception from all ; and the meal and the 
 evening passed pleasantly. There are few places where more singular 
 characters are encountered than at a mess-table. Vie had one short 
 gentleman, whose happiness consisted in the belief that he was always 
 uncomfortable and superlatively wretched ; and hence his conversation, 
 from cock-crow to curfew, was an eternal jeremiade about dead mules 
 and stolen bullock-trunks, tough beef and damp linen, with " all the 
 ills that flesh is heir to." He had been wounded in one action, and in 
 the next charged and overthrown by a drunken dragoon, who, in the 
 'melee, mistook him for a Frenchman. In short, from friends and 
 enemies, in common, he had received abominable treatment ; and 
 latterly, had narrowly escaped being poisoned, by drinking wine from a 
 store-cask, in which, after an undisturbed possession of a week, the 
 mortal remains of a drowned drummer had been unexpectedly dis- 
 covered. On this evening, he feelingly related a recent atrocity 
 perpetrated by an Irish batman, who had burned the only boot in 
 his possession, in which an angry corn could obtain repose. He ended 
 the lament with the customary finale to all his grievances ; namely, 
 an individual inquiry of, " V^hat the devil drove him to this infernal 
 country at all ? " 
 
 " I imagine, my dear Neville, the gentleman you name had an active 
 agency in driving us all here — if men would only speak the truth," 
 observed Major Fitzmaurice. " I fiincy he was close at your elbow, 
 Richards, before you quitted London." 
 
 " At my elbow, certainly," replied the hussar. " Had I kept that 
 quiet, I should have been still doing duty at the Horse-guards." 
 
 " And may I inquire, my young friend, what might have formed 
 the immediate inducement of your favouring us with a visit ?" con- 
 tinued the Major, addressing a volunteer upon his right — " Did you 
 shake the elbow — teach tradesmen book-keeping — shoot a friend 
 who differed with you in opinion ? — or — " 
 
 " None of these delinquencies have I committed. I am suffering 
 for the sins of another," Avas the reply. 
 
 " What a pity ! " said Fitzmaurice ; '' and your friend, the sinner, 
 pays the penalty by proxy — very convenient for him but rather hard 
 on you. Would you oblige us with particulars?" 
 
 " 'Tis a short story," said the volunteer, with a smile ; — " An 
 accursed cousin of mine paid some delicate attentions to the wife of 
 his next-door neighbour ; and, unfortunately, I Avas acquainted with 
 the proceedings. ,' A d — d good-natured friend ' informed the little 
 doctor, that his lady and my Idnsman were fitting him for a state of 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 327 
 
 beatitucio, raicl 'tlie injured liusband ' commenced legal proceeding?, 
 to recover compensation for the loss he had sustained. Loss ! To 
 get rid of a regular virago, who lalopped him three days in the week, 
 and made him miserable for the other four. Had the doctor possessed 
 a spark of generosity, he would have given my wicked kinsman a 
 service of plate, devil as he was ! "Well, though every body knew 
 the truth, it was necessary to lug me in, as eviderce, to prove it. ' If 
 you appear,' said the defendant, ' you'll be my ruin, Tom ;' — ' If 
 you don't, I'm done brown,' said the doctor, — but to make all 
 right, I'll get an ne exeat rcr/no.' Here I was in a regular fix — 
 between my cousin and the chancellor — ' the devil and the deep sea.' 
 I had no alternative but to bolt at once, and come here, hurry-scurry, 
 like a sheep-stealer." 
 
 " "Well, there is one thing certain, — tl.e devil was at the bottom of 
 your business. And pray, may I inquire why you. Sir, sought this 
 refuQium ijcccatorum ?" said Fitzmaurice, to a pale gentleman nearly 
 opposite. 
 
 The person addressed '• looked unutterable things," and sighed pro- 
 foundly. 
 
 " Ah — I see it. Nothing transportable, — not even suspicion of 
 debt ?" 
 
 The pallid gentleman shook his head. 
 
 " Then your suiferings are sentimental. Come — make a clean 
 breast, and you'll sleep all the sounder." 
 
 "'Twas woman's fidseliood," returned the " pale lover." 
 
 "Oh— indeed r 
 
 "Yes — Julia, false as thou wert, this v.-idovrcd heart shall never own 
 another image than thine own." 
 
 " But who was Julia, and wiiat did she do ?" inquired the Major, 
 with provoking insensibility. 
 
 "Who was she?" returned the desponding Li-jutsnant, — "that 
 secret shall perish with me." 
 
 " "Well — no matter ; but what the d-jvil did she do ? Had she a 
 kick in her gallop ? — or — " 
 
 " Xo," said the bereaved gentleman ; " I loved, and wooed, and 
 won her, — as I fondly fancied. I urged my suit, and pressed her to 
 name the day that should seal our mutual happiness ; — I would have 
 wedded her— but, alas ! she left me for another. That, Sir,— ay — 
 that fiital visitation, made me the wanderer and the outcast that I am," 
 
 " Bless me," replied the Major, "how heavily you took it! Now, is 
 it not funny enough, that an occurrence, opposite as the antipodes, 
 actually bundled me into the Peninsula a second time ?" 
 
 " Indeed I my dear Major," I replied. 
 
 " True, sir; — the case was desperate — and nothing but expatriation 
 could have saved me from the bonds of Hymen. The lady would not 
 be denied ; and to escape connubial captivity, I levanted at an hour's 
 notice." 
 
 " Were the inquiry not impertinent, nor one that would painfully 
 recall the past and probe the breast too deeply, I should feel curious 
 to learn the particulars," I observed. 
 
32S THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " Faith, my dear fellow, I liave been, as you properly suspect, the 
 victim of a too sensitive heart, and have suffered accordingly. But 
 liere goes to make a clear confession, and give you the leading inci- 
 dents of my amatory adventures. I omit, of course, skirmishes of 
 lov e viith fevimes de chanibre, dress-makers, gentlewomen wayfaring in 
 stage-coaches, or encountered fjipxying a mile or two from Islington 
 or the Elephant, — appertaining to the corps de hallet, or met with at 
 a conventicle in the afternoon — sheltering in July, under a portico, 
 from a shower, or lost in November, in a fog. I shall pass over all diurnal 
 notices in The Times, beginning with "should this meet the eye," and 
 affairs transacted by the agency of twopenny postage. But why 
 detain you ? Fill, gentlemen — I fear you'll find the story very long, 
 and, what is worse, very melancholy and affecting." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 CONFESSIONS OF MAJOR FITZ. MAURICE. 
 
 Say I love 'many' — well, dear soul, I do ; 
 But the bright object of my heart is 'one:' 
 I love a thousand flowers, of every hue, 
 For all are beautiful, though similar none ; 
 I love a thousand stars, for all are bright, 
 And with their radiant beauty cheer the sight. 
 
 1 have, as thy sweet lips complain, 
 
 On many a lip of ruby banqueted."' 
 
 Thomas TVadi 
 
 I HAVE ever been romantic. At twelve I wrote poetry — for by that 
 name my grandmother was pleased to designate my melodies — and at 
 sixteen was regularly in love. In two years more, I left "England, 
 home, and beauty," " to seek the bubble reputation." Need I say 
 what agony that parting Avith the fair one caused ? Plow con- 
 vulsively Clara sobbed, and how awfully I swoi'e in return, when 
 I received from her hand a ringlet — hue, sunny — binding, violet- 
 coloured silk — which was duly deposited over the fourth rib— left side — 
 with a solemn adjuration, that there the said ringlet should abide 
 and dwell until the heart it covered had ceased to beat, and the 
 lungs adjacent should exercise their expiring functions, in murmuring 
 warm but feeble prayers for the happiness of the donor. 
 
 At nineteen I carried the colours of the — th into action at Sala- 
 manca, but I lament to say, that the honour of carrying them out was 
 reserved for another gentleman of the sword. 
 
 " There's a d — d ill-looking tirailleur, covering me dead," observed 
 a brother ensign, to whom " the king's banner " had been entrusted. 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 329 
 
 "I'm devilisli glad to hear it," I responded, "for I thought the 
 scoundrel was levelling at myself."* 
 
 My supposition was, unfortunately, correct ; for before I had done 
 speaking, a bullet broke the colour-stai!', passed through the arm that 
 held it, and took temporary possession of my person exactly opposite 
 the spot, where the (jafje tVamour of my absent Clara had been 
 deposited. I dropped — two rear-rank men picked me up instanter — 
 and, though the action was particularly hot at the moment, they insisted 
 on bearing me from the field. The anxiety which these worthy men 
 expressed for the safety of their officer was astonishing, and 1 think 
 they would have never halted until we had been out of range of 
 the Cadiz mortar, had the same mortar been in battery at Salamanca. 
 
 " Where the devil arc ye going with the lad ?" exclaimed an eighty- 
 eighth man, who was holjbling on as fast as a wounded leg would 
 allow him, to try, as he termed it, to overtake his " darling Faugh-a- 
 ballaghs." 
 
 " To obtain medical assistance," responded both my Samaritans. 
 I " Then ye had better return," said the Kanger. " Devil a doctor's 
 Avithin a mile of you, except an assistant surgeon, who is lying under 
 yon wall in mortal alarm." 
 
 My humane friends at once decided upon employing the gentleman 
 lying under the wall, and I was accordingly committed to his care. 
 " Faint the din of battle bray'd," and the doctor recovered his self- 
 possession as the roll of musquetry became feebler and more distant — 
 the ball was extracted — I was removed to the house of a gentleman 
 immediately beside — confided to the tender mercies of any who 
 would undertake them ; while my deliverers — the greatest cowards 
 who had ever been inflicted on a fighting regiment — considering the 
 plundering had commenced, set out to try what industry would 
 acquire ; and, as I verily believe, the assistant surgeon " bore them 
 company." 
 
 Upon my conscience, into a nicer family circle an L*ish ensign 
 never contrived to drop himself. The senlior was a steady, sober, 
 respectable gentleman, who went regularly to mass, and never drank 
 in the morning. His lady managed him, the farm, and the domain — 
 rent of the latter not excessive — and the daughter — oh, murder ! 
 three years have passed, and as yet I have never managed to forget 
 Agatha's foot and ancle I But then her eyes — St. Senanus could 
 have never stood a second glance ; her teeth would have put a fox- 
 hound's to the blush ; and, as the old song goes, — 
 
 " Her hair vas as tlick as the devil." 
 
 "Well, she nursed me — her mother offering at matins and vespers a 
 prayer ior my recovery and conversion, and her father spending the 
 morning in asking after news, and putting the evening in, by giving 
 me the result of his inquiries. 
 
 A fortnight passed — and as one wound healed, another opened. 
 Agatha was ignorant of French, I innocent of Spanish, With tlie 
 
 * True anecdote. 
 
SCO THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 exception of a monk or two in Salamanca, not a soul (out of the army) 
 spoke Irish ; and hence, poor girl ! from a neglected education, Ave 
 were rather puzzled to explain the rapid growth of mutual affection. 
 In time we might have succeeded — but one fine morning in August, 
 a field officer, accompanied by a staff" surgeon, dropped into a neigh- 
 bouring village where some sixty lazy vagabonds were malingering. 
 Of course, they were all ordered to their regiments, and I, Avith 
 a senior officer, desired to look after the scoundrels. 
 
 " Agatha !" I said, as I held her to my bosom the morning that I 
 mai'chvd, " Agatha, Avould that I could remain in this sweet thraldom 
 to eternity, — Curse that bugle ! I Avish to God the fellow had been 
 shot through the lungs instead of the arm — Agatha I — " 
 
 Here sobs broke in — 
 
 " Pat, Pat, Do you really regret to leave me ? and Avill you — " 
 
 " Return in a month, and make ye ]\Irs. Patrick Fitzmaurice." 
 
 She flung herself upon my breast — placed a little billet in my hand — 
 inquired how many days in England Ave reckoned for September ; when 
 a gruff" voice exclaimed behind, " Mr, Fitzmaurice, Major Oldham is 
 waiting to see the detachment march off", and if you're not at his 
 elbow in a pig's whisper, Avhy, he SAvore by the eternal frost ! he'll 
 report you to the general to-morroAV morning," 
 
 "^Agatha, my own Agatha !" 
 
 ""Pat, my darling Pat !" 
 
 A long, last, kiss (vide the Corsair, for a particular account of a 
 kiss of this description) succeeded — " Fall in, men," said the sergeant, 
 and in another minute poor Agatha was on the sofa, and I in the street. 
 
 " Agatha !" I exclaimed, as I passed the windoAV whence, " like 
 Niobe, all tears," she watched the detachment move off", " Agatha, on 
 that festival you named, expect me." 
 
 " And that's Tib's eve,"* said an incredulous scoundrel, Avho over- 
 heard the promise — The bugler played Paddy Carey — an angle of the 
 street intervened. — It Avas the last I saAV of Agatha. 
 
 When we halted for the night, I took the little packet from my breast 
 and examined its contents. It contained a billet that professed eternal 
 constancy, and a tress of glossy hair, black as the raven's Aving, 
 
 " Yes, Agatha, this memorial of our love shall rest beside that heart 
 which is all thine own. But softly, jMr. Fitzmaurice ! Is there not 
 already a tenant in possession? PshaAv ! Poor Clara ! What fools 
 boys are ! Ha, ha, ha ! and I really did foncy I was in love ? One 
 cannot help laughing at the recollection. Let me see — light brown — • 
 Well, the hair is pretty hair enough — but, shafts of Cupid ! to 
 compare broAvn with black ! — the very thought is high treason in love's 
 calendar. Still AviU I preserve a memorial of thee, my sweet blonde — 
 and therefore, sunny ringlet, I'll commit thee to — my writing desk !" 
 
 The transfer Avas eff"ccted, and the tress of glossy black promoted to 
 the secret pocket of the jacket, in front of fourth rib— left side — vice 
 light broAvn, " placed on the retired list." * ^ir ^r 
 
 An Irish festival, Avhich is said to fall " nehlier before Dor after Christmas,' 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN. 331 
 
 A year rolled over — the anniversary of my birth came round. It 
 ■was a sweet October evening, and I stole out from the crowded hall of 
 my father's mansion to meet my gentle Lucy. All around was so 
 calm, so quiet, and so lovely, that the coldest heart would own its 
 influence, and even a professed woman-hater, for once renounce his 
 heresy, and "plead for pardon." And who was Lucy ? The sweetest 
 girl in Roscommon I Her father was the village curate, not "passing 
 rich on forty pounds a year ;" but half starved with a wife and six 
 children upon a hundred. Lucy was the eldest child, and when I 
 left J^ngland three years before, she had promised to grow u]> 
 particularly handsome. I returned — we met by accident — for her 
 father's circumstances were too humble, and his spirit too high, to allow 
 him to maintain terms of intimacy with my fiimily. It was in one of 
 those sweet green lanes, bounded by hawthorn hedges and over- 
 spread with apple trees, whose boughs bent under the load they bore, 
 that I saw her for the first time after my return. If ever rustic 
 beauty was calculated to ruin a man's peace, it was such as Lucy 
 Delmer's. A lovelier face I never looked at — but it was its expression 
 that did the mischief. The deep blue eye, that turned on the ground 
 " from man's approval ;" the cheek, which one whispered word reddened 
 to the very brow ; those lips, which Suckling poetized and Cupid 
 might have sworn by — but why dwell on the loveliness of Lucy 
 Delmer ? I came, I saw — reversed the proverb— and was conquered. 
 
 The locality of my flither's house was exceedingly remote, and so 
 •was the parsonage — and hence, though Lucy had numbered seventeen 
 summers, the tale of love had never yet been heard. No wonder, then, 
 that to my ardent suit her young heart was not indiiFerent. She did 
 not tell me so — but, without much difficulty, I guessed the secret. 
 
 She was punctual to the hour. — The lane was made for lovers — so 
 sweet — so unfrequented. 
 
 "Ten thousand thanks, my sweetest Lucy, I feared this lonely 
 spot might have alarmed you, and made you change your resolutions." 
 ■ " Oh no ; with your protection, what had I to fear ? But why were 
 you so desirous to see me ? I know there is a dinner party at the 
 haU !" 
 
 " It is my birth-day, Lucy — and before my last one, we carried 
 Badajoz, by assault. From a soldier I purchased this chain, and 
 have kept it as a memorial of that eventful passage in my nameless 
 history." I tlu-ew it round her neck : " xVnd now, my sweet Lucy, the 
 spoil of war becomes the bond of love." 
 
 " Dear Pat," said the blushing girl, in reply; "would that I had 
 some token to oifer in return ; — I am poor " 
 
 " Ricli, beyond Potosi," I exclaimed ; " ay, and tln-ow El Dorado 
 into the Ijargain. These nut-broAvn tresses would manacle Dan Cupid 
 if he came on earth, and replace Berenice's in heaven afterwards. 
 Give me one lock ! 
 
 " Hush— I hear footsteps.r-Farewell, dear — cleai^ Pat." 
 
 " Adieu — dearest, dearest Lucy." 
 
 "We separated. A villanous whistle was perpetrated at a short 
 distance. It was a herd-boy of my father's— and as he passed me in 
 
332 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 tlic lane, I rewai'ded las melod}^ -svith a thundering box, that changed 
 '•Xora Crina " into " a himent " that might have been heard a mile otF. 
 
 That night, when I retired I found a letter on my table, and 
 broke the seal. Lucy's fair hand had indited tlie billet — and within 
 was enclosed a lock of " nut-brown " hair, which Mr. Truefit of the 
 Burlington Arcade (I forget the number) would have knelt to and 
 worshipped incontinently. 
 
 '•'Lucy — my loved Lucy I" I exclaimed ; "little did I fancy, that 
 from thee love's inlluence was to be learned for the iirst time. — The 
 Jirst ? — Easy — Lieutenant Fitzmaurice, Saints and angels ! 'tis the 
 festival of the blessed Agatha — the very evening you promised, a year 
 
 ago, to return to . Ah ! Pat — Pat — Vrhat have you to say for 
 
 yourself ?" 
 
 "What a special-pleader love makes man ! Li ten minutes, I had 
 ascertained to my own perfect satisfiiction, that in Agatha's case I had 
 jumbled up gratitude Avith friendship, merely made a mistake, and 
 called the mixture by a wrong name. It was quite certain that mj- 
 feeling for Agatha was only brothei'ly after all — and that night the 
 secret drawer of ray writing-case contained a second treasure ; for the 
 jet-black tress was safely deposited beside the brown one. 
 
 This my third liason was short, but very ardent, while it lasted. 
 ]\Ir. Delmer discovered that we met — instituted inquiries — and learned 
 the secret of our love. AYell aware that an alliance with one whose 
 only dower w^as innocence and beauty, would be objectionable to a 
 family aristocratic in every feeling like mine, he delicately hinted the 
 state of aifairs to Sir Edward Fitzmaurice, and removed his daughter 
 to the house of a distant relative. I had written for renewed leave of 
 absence, as the original term had expired — and to my surjirise received 
 a refusal, point blank, from Colonel Markham, accompanied with a 
 peremptory order to rejoin. The truth was, my loving father had 
 written privately to the commander, and told him that I meditated 
 matrimony with the daughter of a curate ; and to that holy estate, the 
 Colonel being an inveterate enemy, he readily became a consenting party 
 to disturb our course of love. 
 
 For a week after I rejoined at Gort, I rejected invitations to tea, 
 left the mess sober, and refused to be comforted. By night, Lucy's 
 ringlet lay underneath my pillow — and by day, rested on a breast 
 within wdiich, as I religiously believed, the image of the loved one 
 Avas enshrined to eternity. This extraordinary change on my part, 
 excited a general inquiry— some ojiining that I had rats in the 
 garret, and would require a gentle restraint and antipldogistic regi- 
 men — while others asserted that I was about to turn JMethodist, and 
 were anxious to know whether I had attended field preachings, or 
 been heard to swear since my return. Still ray melancholy remained 
 unabated, and I levanted before the third pint of wine — a proceeding 
 in a corps of sharp drinkers, considered totally unregimental. 
 Various were the surmises as to the ruinous results which this 
 unhappy alteration in my habits must occasion. The assistant-surgeon 
 suspected I might drop into a decline ; and the red-nosed major added, 
 that I would drop into Pandemonium afterwards. 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN'. 333 
 
 At this period an event occurred that formed another epoch in my 
 history. The captain of grenadiers, a jdeasant gentleman, remarkable 
 for taciturnity and an honesty of purpose that would warrant your 
 drinking with him in the dark, in retiring from the mess-room to his 
 lodgings in the town, witli three bottles of Page's port under his belt 
 and in christian charity with all men, forgetting that an open cellar lay 
 directly in his route, popped in head foremost, and was found an hour 
 afterwards by the relief, dead as Julius Cajsar. By this deplorable 
 event I got the step and the company together. 
 
 The day after the accident. Captain O'Boyle came into my room to 
 offer his congratulations. He lamented the loss the regiment had sus- 
 tained. It would be many a day before the fellow of the departed 
 could be found — a man who never bothered people with argument, 
 confined himself to " yes and no," and would as soon forge a bill, as 
 pass the bottle without filling honestly. However, the Lord's will be 
 done ! It would have been all the better if he had taken the senior 
 major. He, Peter O'Boyle, woidd have got the step, and the removal 
 of a toast-and-water man would have been a happy deliverance. 
 " Now I think of it, Pat," he continued, " I had a long chat with Miss 
 Maginriis about you, at that tea party with the French name, which her 
 
 mother gave the night before Bob Purcel broke his neck. D d 
 
 dangerous to leave cellars open with a drinking i-egiment in town, and 
 men obliged to stagger home after dinner to their cribs. Well, you 
 must know that Flora Maginnis is " a regular clipper." You wouldn't 
 match her in the province — takes a country side as the Lord has made 
 it — never cranes a fence— thinks no more of four-feet, coped and 
 dashed, than you would — sweet girl — no humbug about her — worst of 
 it, no fortune — old Denis not worth a ghost — six hundred a-year — 
 spends twelve. AYell, as I was saying — ' O'Boyle,' says she, ' what 
 the devil sort of a spoon is that chap Fitzmaurice?' " 
 
 " Heavens and earth !" I mentally soliloquized, " v.-hat would ray 
 gentle Lucy say, to hear her beloved Pat denominated ' a devil of a 
 spoon !' " 
 
 " ' The fellow,' says she, ' can neither ride nor drink, I hear ; what 
 is he good for ? I wish to God he had broke his neck instead of that 
 poor dummy, Bob Purcell.' " 
 
 " Egad, Pat, I took your part like a true friend, and stuck to you 
 like a brick." 
 
 " ' By my oath,' says I, ' Miss Flora, you were never more mistaken 
 in your life. It would do your heart good to see him seated on the 
 saddle. Why, he brought Marmaluke in, a beautiful second at 
 Knockcroghary, and only he rode over a blind beggarman and broke 
 his back, he'd have won the cup in a common canter. Then, as to 
 head — I never saw him fairly on the carpet but twice. He'll take off 
 his two bottles without trouble, and troop the guard after it, steady as 
 the serjeant-major.' " 
 
 " ' And where the dovil does the fellow hide himself ?' says she. 
 ' Dick, ye'll deliver a friendly message for me. Tell him I'll run him 
 one round of the course tor a new bonnet, weight for age, — and say, 
 if he does not trot out to mama's soiree — ay — that's the name she 
 
33-1 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 called it— next Sunday, I'll go myself to his cursed den, and di-aw 
 him like a badger. If I don't, may I never get a husband !' There's 
 no use refusing, Pat, for she swore, d — n her if she wouldn't." 
 
 " Oh, my gentle Lucy !" I ejaculated, " no oath would fall from 
 thy sweet lips but the murmured vow^ of eternal constancy I" 
 
 " Eternal what ?" responded Captain O'Boyle, who had but partially 
 overheai-d my rhapsody—'- If it's Lucy Dogherty ye mean, I wush ye 
 had been at the brag-table with her last Monday evening, when Mrs. 
 Middleton laid down three natural aces, — Lord — she swore like a 
 trooper. But you'll go to the soiree, as they call 'tea and turn out' in 
 this town, or Flora Maglnnis Avill drop into your den, with a ' God save 
 all here.' What will I say about a round of the course ? Pon my 
 sowl ! it's worth yir while to lose a bonnet, just to see how beautifully 
 she sticks upon the pig-skin— 'ye'll come, won't ye, and I'll call 
 for ye." 
 
 " I suppose I may'as well go with a good grace," I replied—" your 
 friend, Miss Flora, being a lady, ' not to be refused,' as ' the fancy, 
 caU it." 
 
 " That's right. Give us a glass of water, with a sketch of spirits 
 thro' it. I wonder what the divil tempts me to eat broiled bacon in 
 the morning I " 
 
 \ Captain O'Boyle's request being complied with, he bolted the diluted 
 alcohol, and presently took himself oiF. 
 
 On the appointed night, he called and conducted mo to the Sunday 
 soiree of " Mother Maginnis," as the mama of Miss Flora was fami- 
 liarly termed at the mess. Why this maternal appellation had been 
 conferred upon the lady, I could never exactly learn — but by that 
 soubriquet she had been" known for half-a-score years successively to 
 every marching regiment. We found the company already assembled. 
 Some played brag, some played loo, but Captain O'Boyle led me direct 
 to the piano, where, encircled by a crowd of red-coat3,*two ladies were 
 playing a duet ; and, on its termination, in due form he presented me 
 to Miss Flora. 
 
 She was indubitably a fine animal — a handsome face, a splendid 
 figure, and the 'most magnificent head of auburn hair imaginable. On 
 C'aptaiu O'Boyle announcing me as " his friend, Captain Fitzmaurice," 
 Miss Flora made a rapid inspection of my outer man from top to toe, 
 and then, as if satisfied with the survey, she gave me a hand, white as 
 alabaster, which I took respectfully in mine. 
 
 " How are you, Pat?— Isn't it Pat they call ye?" said the lady. 
 '• Why the' dev'il don't ye shake my hand ? — you take it as gingerly in 
 yours, as if ye had hold of a hot poker. What do ye ride ? Can you 
 manage twelve stone without wasting, and on a ten-pound saddle ?" 
 
 " What a question at first sight?" I mentally ejaculated. "Ah! 
 Lucy, my absent love, were thou and I together, ours would be a 
 softer theme than ten-pound saddles I" 
 
 " Will you play brag ?" she continued. 
 
 I shook my head. 
 
 " So much the better. That old tabby, in black velvet, would cheat 
 her father ; and she, in the blue turban, rob a church. They play into 
 
r 
 
 1. 
 
 ^. 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAX. 335 
 
 each other's hands— dieat first, divide afterwards; tliey would 'do 
 you brown' to a moral in half an hour." 
 
 " Oh ! Flora, Flora," exclaimed her companion ; " how can you say 
 such horrid things ?" 
 
 " Because they're true," returned the young lady : then turning to 
 me, she continued, '• Come av/ay into the corner, and we'll liave a quiet 
 hit. D'Arcy, go find the back-gammon table, settle the men, and snuff 
 the candles ; it's the only thing you're good for." 
 
 A sheep-faced young gentleman instantly obeyed the order ; and 
 Miss Flora Maginnis and I sate down tete-a-tcfe. 
 
 If ever there were two beings who diftered from each other wide 
 as the antipodes themselves, they were Flora aforesaid, and my absent 
 mistress. I had endeavoured to imagine what " a clipper" was, ac- 
 cording to the parlance of O'Boyle ; but my fancy sketch fell infinitely 
 short of the original. An hour glided pleasantly away ; and when 
 supper was announced, Miss Flora and I proceeded to the table, mu- 
 tually pleased with each other. 
 
 I had written to Lucy immediately on m.y arrival at head quarters, 
 and for several days awaited an answer to my epistle with all the 
 impatience of a lover. At last, the long-expected letter came ; and my 
 heart throbbed vnklly when I read the post-mark; I pressed the 
 billet to my lips, muttered that quotation from Pope, which insinuates 
 that letters were invented in heaven, and broke the seal. The '^ Dear 
 Sir" commencement gave me a chill ; and the conclusion, " Your's, 
 sincerely," froze me to'an icicle. Indeed, a colder composition never met 
 a lover's eye. It expressed gratitude for my sentiments of affection ; 
 spoke of the barrier that family and fortune interposed between us — 
 followed that blow up with a disquisition on prudence and " proper 
 pi-ide" — declined all continuation of correspondence as irregular — and 
 concluded with a belief, on her part, that " it would be better for both 
 that the past should be forgotten." 
 
 As I perused the letter, I found the colour waning on my cheek. 
 Was this her constancy ? — were these her sentiments ? She who I 
 thought had warmly reciprocated my love — she, whose whole heart I 
 fancied mine for ever ! Unconsciously my hand approached my breast; 
 and ere I reached the cold conclusion of the letter, that ringlet, which 
 a few minutes since a diamond Avould not have purchased, -was torn 
 from my bosom, and committed with that heartless billet which dis- 
 pelled my dreams of love, to the secret drawer, where brown and black 
 lay quietly reposing. Fool that I was I I never suspected that a proud 
 poor father had dictated every line. The hand was Lucy's ; but had I 
 looked attentively at the paper, I would have discovered that it was 
 blistered with her tears. Alas 1 that fact I never knew for years, and 
 not until Lucy was another's ! 
 
 Every body knows, that the best preparatory state of mind a man can 
 find himself in for falling in love with the first woman that he meets, 
 is immediately after he has been piqued by the falsehood or inditfer- 
 ence of another. My introduction to Miss Maginnis was therefore 
 effected in the very nick of tiaie— she seemed a godsend direct from 
 Cupid.— Romeo-like, I changed from Rosalind to Juliet— commenced 
 
336 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 active operations against the heart of Flora, and fancied I could love 
 her. We rode, and walked, and danced — ran one round over Breafy 
 course — I was beaten by a neck ; and on the following Sunday, Flora 
 annihilated the devotions of half the congregation, by appearing at 
 church in a lancer-cap, obtained " per mail" from Dublin, and, even 
 by her enemies, pronounced " a little love." 
 
 In this state of affairs an event occurred that brought matters to a 
 crisis. A day never passed in which notes were not interchanged be- 
 tween me and Flora ; and one fine morning, her maid was ushered in, 
 and proved the beai-er of a billet. As I fortunately preserved our 
 correspondence, I can favour you, gentlemen, with faithful transcripts, 
 
 " Dear Pat, 
 " I hear you were drunk last night, and, in getting home found 
 the street too narrow. What a humbug, to pass yourself upon people 
 for a milk-sop ! My aunt Packer Avill be married thirty years next 
 Thursday ; and as she annually recalls the memory of that misfortune, 
 she gives, on the evening of that disastrous day, her customary hop. 
 "Will you drive me over ? If you don't, I'll get across in the Parson's 
 
 rumble, and you may go to " There was here a hiatus in the 
 
 manuscript ; but a fancy sketch of " a gentleman in black," with his 
 tail under his arm, enabled me to guess my destination. To this affec- 
 tionate appeal I thus responded : — 
 
 " Deak Flo. 
 " As you permit me to make a choice between ' the place below ' 
 and your aunt's ball, I'll choose the latter. vSet me down your man ! 
 I'll pick you up at eight, ' and no mistake.' " ; 
 
 Punctual to the hour, I called on the appointed night. Flora 
 was true as a clock, and deposited her person and effects safely in 
 the dog-cart. My horses were fast steppers ; and in an hour and six- 
 teen minutes, we reached my aunt Packer's. I am thus particular 
 about time, for I backed myself against it, three to one — in kisses. 
 Certainly I gave Flora sporting odds. She lost, as a gentlewoman 
 should lose, came like a trump " to book," and met her engagements 
 honourably. 
 
 As we approached " my Aunt Packer's " domicile, we found that 
 " viore hibernico " the parish had risen " en viasse," to have a peep at 
 the festive throng. With some difficulty I took my drag pretty safely 
 through the crowd, removing only one toe in the transit — and having 
 deposited Miss Flora in the hall, while she " regulated her curls, and 
 repaired damages " generally, I fought my way to the assistance of my 
 servant, who was making vain but desperate efforts to obtain standing 
 room for the cattle in certain ruinous buildings denominated 
 stables, which were crammed with a pleasing variety of quadrupeds ; 
 but by bribing one car-driver, and bullying another, who had spilled 
 me the night before into a wet ditch, I induced them to remove their 
 prads to some place else, and thus make room for mine. This exploit 
 having been achieved, I entered "the merrie hall," to claim jny 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAX. 337 
 
 partner, wlio had intimated that she should await there my return, and 
 honour me by making her grand eiitre on my arm. 
 
 She was ready for action when I reappeared ; and as we passed 
 through the mob of '• tinints' daughters," who choaked the hall and 
 staircase, nothing could be more complimentary tliau the remarks — 
 '•' That's Miss Flora herself," observed a redshank.* — " Isn't she the 
 girl, after all ?" 
 
 '•' And that's her sweetheart, I suppose, beside her. — Ogh ! but 
 they'll make a cliver couple," rejoined a second. 
 
 " Is the match all settled ?" inquired an elderly gentlewoman. 
 
 " It's all as one, and j ust as sure as if the priest had on the vest- 
 ment," was the reply. 
 
 To me, of course, these remarks were particularly flattering ; but 
 still to the matrimonial conclusion, I did not respond " Amen I" 
 
 On ascending to the state apartment we found the company 
 formally collected; and in the doorway observed a little man, very 
 corpulent, and blessed with an efflorescent nose that would have 
 brought eternal disgrace upon a water-drinker. He was di-essed in a 
 green coat Avith brass buttons, a speckled vest, and inexpressibles that 
 once had been nankeen. I particularly noticed the tie of his white 
 neckcloth. The bow was voluminous, and tlie muslin that encircled 
 his tkroat affixed so loosely, that it was apparent the wearer had 
 determined that his powers of deglutition should receive no inter- 
 ruption. 
 
 '• That's Uncle Dick," observed my fair companion ; " no wonder 
 that Aunty's so proud of her bargain." 
 
 " How'r ye, Flo ?" said Mr. Packer. 
 
 " Morrow ! Dick," was tlie dutiful return. 
 
 " Who's that wid ye ? ]Mr. Fitzmaurice, I suppose." 
 
 " What a guess you made ! If you go on this way, you'll be 
 tried for witchcraft at last," said Miss Flora. 
 
 " I\Ir. Fitzmaurice, ye'r welcome — glad to see ye in Ballymac- 
 cragh. Fine night — but could di-ive over the bog. Maybe ye'd step 
 down to the wee back parlour, and have a glass of uaagus, or a drop 
 of the other, — naked, or in company." 
 
 "A glass of naagus, or a drop of the other— naked or in com- 
 pany," responded Dick's affectionate niece, mimicking her respected 
 relation like an echo ; " do you think Captain Fitzmaurice di'ove 
 thirteen miles to drink hot scalteeine? One would suppose you 
 kept a potheine house." 
 
 '• But I wanted to introduce him to the naabors." 
 
 " The naabors I" returned the young lady, mimicking Uncle Dick 
 to the life. " And a blessed lot the neighbours are ! Kelly, and 
 Brophy, and Kinsella, — a parcel of savages, who only know when 
 whisky's over-proof, and a bullock fit for market. But, Dick, why 
 don't you take heart when j'ou are in Athlone, and treat yourself to 
 a new pair of fye-for-shames ? And look at his cravat !" so saying, 
 she caught the ample bow, and whisked it round, until it met the spot 
 
 * Rcdshtnk — a term applied in the kingdom of Conaaught to young ladies vho 
 dispense with shoes and stockings. 
 
 z 
 
338 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 wliere the liangman would have placed it. " Now, be off, Dick ; 
 keep yoiu'self and naabors out of my sight foi' the evening, and I'll 
 settle sixpence a-day on you for life !" 
 
 I think our introduction to " my aunt " was about as affectionate 
 and reverential ; and I began to comprehend the meaning of the word 
 " clii^per." No matter ; she was the finest animal in the collection; 
 and what Avas it to me, if she denounced the scarlet turban of the 
 lady hostess, and traced its importation to the same ship that, thirteen 
 yeai's before, had wafted Uncle Dick's luimentionables from China ? 
 We laughed at the company and ourselves, flirted, danced three sets 
 before supper, two ditto after it, — passed every thing, next morning, 
 on the road — and I popped her down at her papa's, at half-past seven 
 — she to dream of mai'riage, and I of God knows what. 
 
 It was two o'clock before I toddled into t,he mess-room. Others had 
 been nearly as late as I ; for the little snub-nosed major and Captain 
 O'Boyle were just concluding their breakfast, when I joined them, 
 and ordered mine. 
 
 "Cursed nuisance country routs," growled the short commander; 
 — " horse kicked by a vicious mule — kettle not boiled after supper — 
 rheumatism left hip — and lost three rubbers at whist, and five pound 
 ten at lavimy." 
 
 " Egad ! for my part, major, I was delighted with Mother Packer, 
 and my Uncle Dick." 
 
 " Many true words said in jest ; I'll bet five pound he's your uncle 
 in a month — and no mistake." 
 
 " My vmcle ?" I returned, with a stare. 
 
 " Ay — double the bet, too : — d — d qirick promotion yours — Captain, 
 first week in the month — Benedict, two gazettes afterwards." 
 ( ,"Upon my soul, I do not comprehend you. Pray, my dear major, 
 what are you driving at ?" 
 
 " Driving at ?— aye, last night's drive settled all. When do ye 
 come to the scratch ? All friends here ;— no use in humbug." 
 
 *' Why, what the devil do you mean ?" 
 
 " Mean— get your neck into the halter — slow march up the aisle — 
 she looks down, and you delighted— Parson reads " love, honour, and 
 obey"— clerk cries " amen," — kiss your bride— chariot and four — white 
 favours— boys shout— door shuts, and away ye go ! That's the time 
 of day!" 
 
 " A graphic pictui-e, major. But who are to be the dramatis 
 fer&orics V 
 
 "Who? yourself to be sure; aided and abetted by Flo Ma- 
 ginnis." 
 
 " I marry! My dear major, when haA e I been pronounced insane ?" 
 
 " Insane — no — no — parson says it's an honourable estate — bound to 
 take his word. But I wish to God you would get your worthy uncle 
 to put a few slates upon the stable — horse running at the nose, this 
 morning, as if he had the glanders— Air, excellent thing— but, d — n 
 me, half the roof off, too much. I'll just toddle down to the post- 
 efjice — coach by this time in" — and Major Belcher took himself off. 
 
 Of course, Avhen he was gone, I requested Captain O'Boyle to tell 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN. 3;19 
 
 nie what he had been hinting at ; and I had the agreeable tatisfactiu:i 
 to learn that my immediate union Avith Miss Maginnis was pronounced 
 certain. Aunt Packer, on being assured by him, the captain, that 1 
 was not a confirmed drunkai-d, as she had heard foi-merly, observed 
 that " Flora had got out of bed with her right foot foremost, the 
 morning that she met me ;" insinuating therebv, that Flora Iiad been 
 in luck ; and, after our depai'ture, Sir. Packer, in a neat and compli- 
 mentary speech, had proposed our healtli and happiness, with an ofie;-, 
 on his part, to bet five pounds that he would be a grand-uncle within the 
 twelve month. — " But here's the Serjeant, v,-ith the letters. Any news, 
 Jones ?" 
 
 " Nothing," responded the serjeant, " but a draft of a captain, tv/o 
 subalterns, and sixty rank and file, for first battalion — off immediately 
 — transports Avaiting at Cork." 
 
 This unexpected intelligence changed the current of our conversa- 
 tion. O'Bojde went out to ascertain what names were first upon ilut 
 roaster — and I retired to my barrack-room, to inquire whether I was 
 really on the eve of matrimony, or not. 
 
 I had been for above an hour in a state of dreamy confusion, when 
 a light tap was heard at the door. I announced myself at home— 
 and in came Sibby Callaghan. 
 
 " Ah ! pretty one — is it you ? Come here — give me a couple of 
 kisses first, and then tell me how your misti'ess is." 
 
 " Be quiet, captain. Oh ! murder — if Miss Flora only knew it. 
 Feaks — joking apart, it's a shame and scandal, and you going to bo 
 married in a week or two." 
 
 "Married ! Sibby. — "Who the devil put that folly in your head ?" 
 
 " Oh, I know it all. Isn't Mr. Dominick, the master's brother, and 
 Tom, and Peter Blake, and their sister Emily, and Julia Dwyer — 
 they call her Julia, but her riglit name's Judy — ay, faith, and a dozen 
 more blood relations — arn't they all written for ? But I must run 
 dow.n to Miss Ryan's, the milliner ; and maybe you'll have an answer 
 for this note ready for me, at my return." And off went Sibby 
 Callaghan. 
 
 In desperate trepidation I broke the fair one's billet, and an auburn 
 ringlet, silky and glistening, fell from its envelope upon the table. 
 
 " Dearest Pat, 
 
 " That lock of hair you turned around your finger when you stole 
 a parting kiss, this morning — "Will you for my sake keep it?" 
 
 " Curse upon parting kisses," I muttered. 
 
 " I have written to that beast Brophy, to whom my father gave 
 some encouragement, to say that, like a dead heat, the match was of}'. 
 AVould you wish to see the letter, before I send it ?" 
 
 " Come up for coffee. "We'll have a quiet chat — and, like a dear 
 irood boy, go to roost early, 
 
 " Thine, " Flora." 
 
 "Oh I — it's all over," I muttered. ""Was ever man run into matri- 
 mony so ridiculously ? "What's to be done ? Knock again, — come 
 in." — And in slided Captain O'Boyle. 
 
 z 2 
 
340 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 "What the devil's wrong with you?" was his opening address. 
 "Have ye seen a ghost— or received a call from the sub-sheriff? or" — 
 
 " Worse— worse," I responded, with a sigh. "I'll be married, 
 whether I will or not. Nothing can save me." 
 
 " Oh— I expected it," returned the captain. " Then, of course, you'll 
 leave the regiment, and poor Phipps has no chance of getting you to 
 take his turn for the Peninsula ?" 
 
 "No chance!" I exclaimed; " Pm ready in half an hour. Aye, 
 that's an opening for escape. But stop ; I must answer a note. 
 There's cherry-brandy in the cupboard,— take a glass, O'Boyle, and 
 hand me another, merely to keep you in countenance. So here goes 
 — listen ! 
 
 " ' Dearest Flo, 
 ■ "'I shall ever treasure the dear ringlet you have given me, and, no 
 matter where I am, shall look upon it as love's talisman.' " 
 
 " Stop !" exclaimed Captain O'Boyle, — " what the devil's a talis- 
 man ?" 
 
 " Oh — hang it ! no matter.'" It's I don't know what myself — but a 
 word, very commonly introduced into tender correspondence. 
 
 " 'As to that beast Brophy, as you properly term him, I feel some 
 delicacy in offering an opinion. Were I he, I should at once accept 
 your proposition, and declare ' off by mutual consent.' 
 
 " ' If possible, I shall be with you for coffee, and attend to your 
 advice religiously. 
 
 " ' Dear Flo, 
 
 " ' Always yours, " ' Pat.' " 
 
 I had scarcely sealed my billet when love's messenger announced 
 herself. The presence of Captain O'Boyle precluded any converse 
 between me and the spider-brusher ; and after receiving her despatch, 
 Sibby Callaghan disappeared. 
 
 It was at once decided that I should levant that very evening, 
 leaving the detachment to the care of the subalterns, whom it was 
 arranged I should join in Cork. Captain O'Boyle discliarged my 
 accounts in town ; my servant packed my traps; and I had stepped 
 down to take a little air in the barrack-yard, when once more Sibby 
 Callaghan presented herself. She placed a billet in my hand ; 
 I squeezed hers in return — whispered I would send an answer when 
 evening parade was over — and broke the seal. 
 
 " My deakest Pat, 
 " Have I misunderstood you ? Then is my peace of mind gone for 
 ever! Oh no — I won't believe it. You would not win a virgin heart, 
 and throw it idly from you ! Rest assured, idol of my soul ! that 
 there is no bliss in life comparable to wedded happiness. 
 
 " ' Yours, and yours only, " ' Flora.' " 
 
 I wrote an immediate reply : — 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 341 
 
 " My dearest Flo, 
 " I am certain your estimate of connubial felicity is coiTCct ; but at 
 present, you must excuse me from ti'ying the expei'iment. 
 
 " Always and affectionately, " Pat." 
 
 " D — n it," said Captain O'Boyle, " you must be clean out of 
 tlie town, before Flo gets that choker. The whole gang will be 
 collected in the evening. But, Lord ! she wouldn't wait for any 
 assistance, but beat up your quarters at once. There's only a Serjeant's 
 guard at the gate, and that would never keep her out." 
 
 What is valour to discretion ? Captain O'Boyle's were the words 
 of wisdom, and I profited by them accordingly. A chaise and four 
 were slyly introduced through the back entrance to the barrack — the 
 gates closed for half an hour — and before Flora received my note, 
 I had left Gort six miles behind, and set pursuit at defiance. 
 
 Would you believe it ? until I reached head-quarters here, I felt 
 particularly uncomfortable. Conscience upbraided me ; and I fancied 
 the probability of an ill-regulated but too ardent temperament like 
 Flora's being forced into the commission of some desperate act ; and 
 when I unclosed my secret depository, I looked at the auburn ringlet, 
 and breathed a fervent prayer that Heaven would enable the poor 
 girl to bear up against her visitation. As it resulted, I had " dis- 
 quieted myself in vain ; " — for three week's ago, I received a Ros- 
 common Journal, with " P. O'B." written upon the corner of the 
 envelope. I looked it over rapidly ; and one paragraph at once set 
 my heart at rest. 
 
 " At Cloonflin church, by the Reverend Doctor Dowdell, Ignatius 
 Brophy, Esquire, of Curnafin, to the elegant and accomplished 
 Flora Maginnis, only daughter and heiress of Dennis Maginnis, of 
 Ballybawn, County of Roscommon, andBalIynamudda,County of Mayo." 
 It was regularly recorded who gave the bride away, and also the route 
 they took to spend the honey-moon ; but I'll not be too particular. 
 
 As the gallant major ended, a servant entered and Avhispered in the 
 president's ear. 
 
 " You are wanted," he said, turning to me. '' Yuu will be sure to 
 find us here on your return." 
 
 I rose and left the room ; and outside, found an orderly waiting 
 in the street, to say that Lord Wellington wished to see Lieutenant 
 O'Halloran immediately. 
 
34 2 THE rORTUNES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 iMV INTr;RVIEW WITH LOUD AVELLINGTON AND FURTHER PARTICULARS 
 
 TOUCHING PETER CROTTY. 
 
 Falstftff. " Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me. The 
 brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to vent 
 any thing that tends to laughter, more than I invent, or is 
 invented on me : I am not only witty in myself, but the cause 
 that ■vvit is in othtr n.in.' 
 
 King Henry IV. 
 
 Although tlie evening was well iulvanced, all within and without 
 the quarters of the Commander-in-chief indicated a business-like 
 activitv, and gave a silent earnest that an important crisis was at 
 hand. "^ Three "dragoons, the bearers of as many despatches, were 
 riding OiT to their stables — while a couple of orderlies lounged back- 
 wards and forwards in front of the building ; but excepting the 
 sentries at the door, there was nothing about the residence of Lord 
 Wellington that would distinguish it from the quarters of a general 
 of brigJide. On my name being announced, I was conducted into a 
 lar2:3 room on the ground floor, where at one table several non- 
 conuriissioned officers were employed in transcribing official documents 
 — and at another, two engineers were measuring distances on a large 
 map, from which they were making, what appeared to me, a skeleton 
 draVt of the great features of the country. In a few minutes an aid- 
 de-camp came in, and informed me that his lordship was now engaged, 
 but that he would be happy to receive me presently — politely invited 
 me to take a seat — and then left me to myself 
 
 I never found an establishment that so little realized the glowing 
 picture which Peter Crotty had so fancifully sketched. From his 
 re!-)ort, one would have imagined that head-quarters had been the 
 selected home of social pleasure, with " Laughter holding both his 
 sides," and Bacchus aiding and assisting. I found it a very diffiirent 
 concern ; and had the domicile belonged to La Trappe, business could 
 not have been carried on more quietly than it was. The Serjeants 
 seldom raised their heads from the table— the engineers conversed in 
 whispers — and the place was as silent as the clerk's office of a solicitor, 
 with the head partner in bad temper in the room. 
 
 Still I fancied that there might be a secret symposium unapproached 
 by the profanum vulgus, and to which none but the elect, with a favoured 
 few like Peter Crotty, gained an entrance. Yet it was marvellous how 
 
HECTOR O'HALLORAX. 343 
 
 well they managed matters in the house. No sound of distant merri- 
 ment fell upon the ear — no explosion followed " the jest which set the 
 table in a roar." The walls must be confoundedly thick, or the com- 
 pany singularly prudent — you could have heard a cat cross the floor — 
 and yet not an outburst of " tipsey jollity " was audible. 
 
 While lost in vague surmises as to the causes which might have 
 occasioned this strange alteration in his lordship's style of living since 
 Peter Crotty had favoured him with a call, a servant opened the dooi% 
 and requested Lieutenant O'Halloran to follow him. "\Ve crossed over 
 to an opposite apartment — the attendant announced my name — and 
 I found myself in the presence of him afterwards surnamed, the 
 '• Iron Duke." . 
 
 I never was more surprised tlian at the general appearance of my 
 lord's " great chamber." Neither bottle nor glass were to be seen — 
 the cards eluded discovery — and I could detect nothing in "the sporting 
 line" except one solitary chess-board. The apartment contained not 
 one article that could have been dispensed v\-ith. The table was over- 
 spread with papers— and at one end, an aid-de-camp copied letters — at 
 another, a private secretary wrote from the dictation of the Com- 
 mander-in-chief. 
 
 '• Sit down, 3Ir. O'Halloran," said his lordship — " we have deci- 
 phered your despatch — and the information it contains is very valu- 
 able. May I inquire under what circumstances the packet fell into 
 Juan Diez' hands ? " 
 
 I briefly narrated the particulars. 
 
 " It is genuine, no doubt ; indeed it bears the stamp ; but docu- 
 ments have been occasionally fabricated, which have misled people 
 who did not take pains to test their authenticity. You appear to 
 have had a good deal of adventure during your sejour with the 
 Empecinado. They say that Don Juan is an off-handed gentleman at 
 times — hanss a man first, and makes inquiries afterwards — ha? — 
 Is it so?"^ 
 
 "As far as I can judge, my lord," I replied, " such is his general 
 practice. I found him a very excellent friend ; but he's the last man 
 in Spain whom I should wish to make an enemy." 
 
 I saw that his lordship was interested in the details of my recent 
 adventures, which pictured strikingly the wild and ferocious style of 
 war which the partidas carried on. Once or twice he was pleased to 
 pay me a compliment ; and he expressed unqualified satisfaction at 
 Mark Antony's bold and successful intervention to save the con- 
 demned voltigeur. Half an hour slipped away, coffee was brought in, 
 and I was about to take my leave, when, turning round, as if a 
 thought had struck him suddenly. Lord Wellington observed— ^ 
 
 " i had a comrade of your name, — whether now dead or living I 
 know not. We served together in the Low Countries, and both com- 
 manded regiments during the retreat. At Tuyl he particularly dis- 
 tinguished himself" — 
 
 " And on the occasion," I added, " lost an arm." 
 " The same ; — is he related to you ?" 
 " He is my father," I replied. 
 
344 • THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " Then, Mr. O'Htilloran, you are the son of a good and gallant 
 soldier. lie retired from the service I presume ?" 
 
 " Twenty years ago, my Lord. But he is still in heart the same. 
 Were it not for my mother's influence, I am persuaded that, one- 
 armed as he is, he would have been with your lordship before now." 
 
 " I wish he was, — and, maimed as he is, I will freely take him, and 
 give in exchange half-a-dozen gentlemen of his own rank, and with the 
 usual assortment of limbs. — I am pretty certain I should be a gainer 
 by the bargain." 
 
 Fearful of intruding upon his time, I bade Lord Wellington good- 
 night, — received a courteous return — and hastened back to the com- 
 pany I had quitted, highly flattered with the reception I had met with, 
 although neither offered a glass of wine, pressed to play cards, nor 
 even desired, when I came again, " to bring my portmantle." 
 
 That night I returned with Major Fitzmaurice, and took up my old 
 quarters in his tent ; and as we smoked a cigar and discussed some 
 brandy and water, I gave him an account of my interview at head 
 quarters. 
 
 " Your reception, my dear O'Halloran," said the major, " though 
 not so friendlv as Mr. Crotty's, was still very flattering indeed. What 
 a revolution his Lordship's habits have undergone within one brief 
 month ! He seems to have booked himself against cards, and aban- 
 doned brandy and water altogether. It would also appear that, finding 
 " villanous company would be the spoil]of him," he has exchanged his old 
 acquaintances for a lot of less sporting characters. And yet how the 
 world may be led astray. There are people who would persuade you 
 that Picton never touched pasteboard in his life, and that Packenhara 
 would as soon take poison, as " brandy without." Ah — Peter, 
 Peter, thou hast no parallel, — the brain to fabricate such a lie — and 
 the brass to enable thee to give it utterance! v Well — we'll put him on 
 the gridiron to-morrow, and if he bears the scorching, why he deserves 
 the first company that falls." 
 
 Next morning, the fosterer and my charger arrived safely ; and, with 
 Major Fitzmaurice, I consumed the day in wandering over the canton- 
 ments. Unpractised as I was in military affairs, I could not but 
 observe the striking contrast which the Peninsular regiments pre- 
 sented to that raw soldierj^, whom I had been accustomed to look at, 
 before I quitted England. Here, the unfaded uniformity of dress 
 was wanting ; not two jackets were of one shade ; trowsers were 
 patched Avitli any colour the wearer could procure ; and, provided his 
 shoes were good, his appointments clean, and his musket in efficient 
 order, the other externals of the soldier were but little regarded. But 
 it was when under arms that the superiority of that unequalled army 
 was observable. The ease with which it moved— the i^recision of 
 every evolution — the facility with which a brigade manoeuvred, correctly 
 as it were a single regiment — Avhile an air of confidence was traceable 
 on very face, and the whole looked like men who had made the ti'ial — 
 established, and felt their superiority. 
 
 It was late when we returned ; the dinner-drum had beat, and Ave 
 found our rough but happy circle already united around the table. 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 345 
 
 Our homely fare was speedily discussed, and tlie evening carouse 
 began. There is no society on earth like that collected in a mess- 
 room, or one in which men unbend with such security, and where the 
 tone or temper of every individual is imperatively required to accommo- 
 date its pecidiarities to the occasion, and harmonize with all around. 
 Hence, in military communities, badinage never becomes coarse, argu- 
 ment captious, nor language vulgar and offensive. On the present 
 occasion, my unexpected return was warmly welcomed, and all seemed 
 to take a brotherly interest in my recent deliverance. 
 
 " Upon my conscience," observed Peter Crotty, " ye had the luck 
 of thousands, after all, Mr. O'Halloran. As to that fellow with the hard 
 name, and black avized complexion, though he made ye a present of a 
 stolen horse, in my mind, he's little better than a common highwayman. 
 Did ye see my Lord last night ?" 
 " Oh yes," I replied, carelessly. 
 " Was he in good humour ? " said Peter. 
 " Excellent ! " was the reply. 
 " And asked you to sit down ?" 
 " He did — most civilly." 
 "Was there any drink going ?" 
 " Nothing but coffee." 
 
 " Well, i wonder at it 1" said Peter, with a shake of the head. 
 " Xot at all. Probably his lordship had been a little too liberal the 
 night before," observed the major. 
 "Any company wid his lordship ?" 
 
 "Xoue, Peter," responded the major. "An aid-de-camp told 
 IMr. O'Halloran, that the card-parties had been postponed until your 
 new breeches arrived from England." 
 
 " I heard another story," observed Captain Fenwick. " They say — 
 God knows whether it be true or false— that Sir Thomas Picton got 
 a bad dollar iu change the night Crotty got drunk at head-ciuarters — 
 and Peter being the only suspicious person in the room, they have, of 
 course, left it at his door." 
 
 Ish: Crotty appeared a little fidgetty ; but still continued to show 
 fight. 
 
 " I regret to hear the last statement made by Captain Fenwick," 
 retiu-ned Major Fitzmaurice. — " Any inconvenience arising from the 
 non- arrival of Peter's inexpressibles, would have been but a private 
 concern — but passing bad dollars is a more serious affair, compro- 
 mising, as it does, the honour of an old and distinguished regiment. 
 If the report be true, that Peter palmed off base money upon Sir 
 Thomas Picton, why, he's nothing better than what the swell-mob 
 call 'a smasher'— and the offence is additionally aggravated, because 
 that, under a conviction he was playing with respectable men, Sir 
 Thomas thought it unnecessary to ring the dollar on the table, as if 
 he were in a silver hell.— But 'where are you going ? I know you are 
 on duty— but, hang it, Peter, you need not visit your guards this 
 half-hour. Oh, Peter, Pm sorry to say, this evasion on your part 
 looks very like guilt— and if you don't clear the matter up satisfac- 
 torily in the morning, I'll apply for a regimental inquiry." 
 
34G THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 « 
 
 " lie's off!" said a lieutenant of light infantry. " Of all Peter's 
 lliglits of fancy, that jollilication at head-quarters wiU prove the 
 most fatal." Turning to me he continued : — 
 
 ^' Peter Crotty, Mr. O'llalloran, is one of the best men on earth; 
 and all he requires is, to meet with a true believer. Don't be alarmed 
 at some of his revelations — he's not so truculent as at times he 
 represents himself. For example : he's pleased to make frequent 
 mention, when he has dipped into the second bottle or fourth turiibler, 
 as the case may be, 'of having once pursued an unfortunate author on 
 the banks of the Suir for a whole summer's day, and despatched him 
 with the thirteenth shot. Of coarse, on his own showing, you would 
 write him down a determined murderer. — Not at all. I believe the 
 most rascally scribbler that ever blotted paper, might live to four 
 score, and Peter never volunteer to be his executioner. The ftict is, 
 that in the pleasant part of Tipperary which witnessed the nativity of 
 our friend, it is customary, when a couple of fs come together, to 
 change the second into an h, and hence it was an otter, and not an 
 author, that he put to death." 
 
 " And I will bear testimony," said Captain Fenwick, " to Petei-'s 
 galliintry. When I was knocked down at Rodrigo, and lay at the foot 
 of the great breach, I saw honest Peter crown it — and with some dozen 
 hair-brained devils, like himself, he fought on the summit, hand to 
 hand. The French, when the lesser breach was carried, gave way — • 
 the town was won — and Peter, with a fortunate few, gained the streets 
 witJiout sustaining personal injury. Two days afterwards he visited 
 me in hospital, bitterly lamenting the total loss of a skirt, which 
 had been bodily removed by a bayonet thrust. ' Bad luck to him for 
 an unlucky thief ! ' was Peter's indignant observation. ' Pie tattered 
 the only jacket that I had ; and though the tailor has been on the 
 look-out ever since, the devil a skirt he can fall upon that will 
 match it !' " 
 
 " Gentlemen," observed the assistant-surgeon, " you have borne an 
 honoui'able testimony to my excellent friend and countryman, Mr. 
 Crotty, as a person of lively imagination, and a stout soldier 
 besides. I beg to complete the merited eulogium, by assuring you 
 that Peter is a good catholic into the bargain. Captain Fenwick 
 noticed his conduct during the assault — and I accidentally witnessed 
 his christian temperament, immediately before the division moved into 
 the trenches on that glorious and bloody evening. With three others, 
 Peter and I held a ruinous apartment of an old farm-house in joint 
 tenancy, and my corner was divided from the rest, by a blanket sus- 
 pended from a line. When the division was under arms, I discovered 
 that I had left some instruments behind which might possibly be re- 
 quired, returned consequently, to the house, and while hunting 
 for them behind the blanket, I heard Peter Crotty open the outer door 
 and come in. He, too, was in search of something he had forgotten — 
 and in a false assurance that he was perfectly alone, he commenced 
 ' thinking aloud,' and I kept quiet. 
 
 "'Holy Mary!' he ejaculated, 'you have the best interest in 
 heaven, and that every body knows. If I had as good at the Horse 
 
IIECTOIl o'hALLOP.AX. 347 
 
 Guiiixis, I would be a colonel in a fortnifrlit. Oli, bad liK-k attend ye, 
 Ti'-Ti Dojie ' — and he kept rummaging througli an old bulloc:k-trunk. 
 * Tliere's no finding anything after ye, you drunken sweep ! Well, 
 blessed Virgin, this is likely to be a bloody night ; and the Lord, of 
 course, will take his dealing trick out of the regiment, — glory to him — 
 nobody can complain of it. But, sweet Lady — all I wish is, that it 
 won't be as it was at Badajoz, in funeral order, but just let him take 
 them fairly as they stand. There's three field-officers with the regiment, 
 and we can easily spai'e one of them ; — a couple of captains, ye know, 
 would never be missed out of the number— and as to the subalterns, why 
 let him have his own Avay about them. Oh, murder! there go the taps. 
 If I live to come back, Tim Doyle, I wouldn't be in your jacket for a 
 new thirteen.'* Again the druni ruffled— Peter shut down the trunk- 
 lid, slammed the door after him, and hurried off to join his company — 
 raaking his final exit in muttering a prayer to the Virgin, and an 
 imprecation upon Tim Doyle." 
 
 Early next morning, I was agreeably surprised at receiving an 
 order from Lord "Wellington to attend him that afternoon. I rode 
 over accordingly ; and once more found myself in the presence of him 
 who had been destined to restore the tarnished glory of the British 
 arms, and after a brilliant career of conquest, terminate a doubtful 
 struggle by a crowning victory. I found him immured in business — 
 and'j-et the details of his bureau seemed to go on as orderly and me- 
 thodically as the arrangements of a merchant's counting-house. On 
 seeing me, he beckoned me to come forward. 
 
 '•' I think I have been able to meet your wishes, Mr. O'Halloran. 
 
 Take this note to General R . As yours is only to be a short 
 
 sojourn, he has kindly oiFered to make room for you on his staff. No 
 thanks ;" — and waving his hand, the interview^ ended. 
 
 Delighted at my good fortune, I rode off to the head-quarters of the 
 fourth division— presented my credentials— was introduced to one of 
 the most gallant soldiers that ever commanded a brigade — and made 
 the acquaintance of the best fellow upon earth — his aid-dc-camp, 
 Tom F . 
 
 * AnsUce— a shilling. 
 
348 THE FORTUNES CF 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIIJ. 
 
 OPENING OF THE CAMPAIGN — BATTLE OF VITTORIA. 
 
 Kilts Henri/. " Yet, God before, tell him we will come on, 
 Though France himself, and such another neighbour, 
 Stand in our way. ***** 
 If we may pass, we will ; if we be hinder'd. 
 We shall your tawny ground with your red blood 
 Discolour." King Henry V. 
 
 Many a summer has passed away since the spring of manhood saw 
 me on the Agueda — and the sear of middle age finds me recalling the 
 brief but brilliant reminiscences of that "crowded hour of glorious strife" 
 which followed. Time has sprinkled my hair with " wisdom's silver" — 
 the blood, which once the slightest impulse hurried from the heart, 
 flows temperately — "wild youth's past" — and I now look back with 
 painful pleasure to one brief era of a life, for which, could it be lived 
 again, I would cheerfully forego years of calm and spiritless enjoy- 
 ment. 
 
 Is not this an ungrateful declaration of thine, Mr. O'Halloran ? 
 With every human blessing that can render existence happy, hast thou 
 not been munificently gifted ? Thou hast never known the stringent 
 pressure of necessity — thou hast not felt the Avithering agony of un- 
 requited love — no false friend has abused thy confidence — no lovely 
 woman " stooped to folly," and made thee blush for her inconstancy. 
 Hast thou not a home ? — the pledge of holy love has lisped upon thy 
 knee — the smiles of beauty which never beamed upon another, have 
 brightened at thy presence. What wouldst thou more ? Upon my 
 conscience, Mr. Hector O'Halloran, thou art a most unreasonable 
 Irish gentleman. 
 
 I said, that I looked^ back upon this epoch of my life with 
 " painful pleasure." — Well, that association of opposites he Avho has 
 passed the meridian of existence can easily understand ; for in the 
 story of a life, pain and pleasure are generally found close companions. 
 The pulse quickens when Vittoria, Sauroren, and San Sebastian pass 
 in " shadowy review " — but the heart sickens when I recall the memory 
 of him, at whose side I witnessed the enthusiastic heroism of that 
 noble brigade, to whom he so often pointed out the path to victory. 
 In long and cherished remembrance will that honoured name be held. 
 To a lion's heart he united a woman's gentleness — the soldier followed 
 him through love — his rivals admired and praised him. Why did he 
 
HECTOR o'HALLORAN. 349 
 
 not die in the blaze of battle, where the noblest soldiers upon earth 
 contended for a doubtful victory ?— "Why did not his glorious spirit 
 wing its tiight " from cumbring clay," in that wild mountain pass, in 
 which it gained its immortality? — Why, on '-red Waterloo" did he 
 not find a fitting grave ? Alas ! it Avas otherwise appointed ;— and 
 one of the noblest soldiers whom Britain ever claimed, perished by an 
 ignoble hand.* 
 
 The middle of May found the allies, in perfect unity of purpose 
 and admirable efficiency, ready to open the campaign, and orders had 
 been already transmitted to General Murray and the Spanish com- 
 manders on the eastern coast, to commence initial operations. Gradually, 
 and in a manner not to occasion alarm in the French cantonments ; 
 the allied divisions were concentrated and advanced, and the supporting 
 Spanish corps were put in march to co-operate. Bad weather, heavy 
 rains, and an accident to the pontoon-train, delayed the opening of 
 the campaign. It was but for a few days. On the 16th, Graham 
 threw his infantry and artillery across the Douero: Hill moved forward 
 to Bejar; and on the 22d, Lord "Wellington marched with his right 
 wing towards the Tormes ; and the practicability of the noblest con- 
 ception that ever a great military genius matured, was now to be 
 proven. " A grand design, and grandly it was executed ! For high 
 in heart and strong of hand, Wellington's veterans marched to the 
 encounter ; the glories of twelve victories played about their bayonets ; 
 and he, the leader, so proud and confident, that in passing the stream 
 which marks the frontier of Spain, he rose in his stirrups, and waving 
 his hand, cried out — " Farewell, Portugal '."f 
 
 To oppose the fiery movements of the allied general, the enemy 
 should have been combined, and in readiness ; but they were equally 
 unprepared and unsuspicious that an advance would be attempted. 
 Napoleon's orders to concentrate on the Tormes, had been fatally 
 neglected ; and no preparation had yet commenced to evacuate the 
 capital, if such a step should become necessary. Joseph was at issue 
 with his generals ; the latter on bad terms with each other ; and, 
 strange as it might appear, in a country laid open to unmerciful con- 
 tributions, subordinate oflicers were acquiring wealth, while the king 
 was without a guinea, and his major-general (Jourdan) actually sub- 
 sisting upon credit. Every commander seemed to think and act for 
 himself. Joseph issued orders, but none obeyed them — some general 
 asserted that Lord Wellington w^ould attempt to turn the French 
 right ;— others declaring that he would march direct on Madrid. One 
 would have it that the north would be his field of operation,— another 
 maintained that it would be the south, and in concert with Sir John 
 Murray. All were referring to what might be the future, when the 
 initial movements were already made ; and Wellington was over the 
 Esla, before it Avas known in the enemies' cantonments that a division 
 had been even put in march I 
 
 * It M-as said— I knovr not -nith what accuracy — tliat IMajor- General Eoss was 
 shot by a sneaking scoundrel ambushed in a tree, 
 f Napier. 
 
350 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " None, save a military reader, can estimate this wonderful and 
 successful operation. A part of Sir Tlionias Graham's corps traversed 
 a distance of more than two hundred miles, its route running through 
 the Tras as Montes, the wildest district imaginable. Over a rugged 
 surface — hitherto unknown to any save the shepherd or muleteer — 
 forty thousand men, with artillery, and all the equi])ages of war, 
 were passed and placed in safety on the further banks of a river 
 unopposed — not a French general believing that even a cloud was 
 collected, when the tempest had already burst ! 
 
 Merely waiting one day at Toro, to unite his left with the Gallician 
 army, and enable the rear of his own divisions to close up, tlie allied 
 general pushed rapidly for the Carion, his own troops beautifully in 
 liand, and either flank protected by Spanish regulars and partidas. 
 Too late, Joseph Buonaparte felt the danger of his position ; — when 
 the danger was discovered, it was irremediable ; for with the certain 
 stride of victory "Wellington marched forward. The Pisuerga and the 
 Arlanzan were passed, to use the language of an historian. " easily as 
 if they contained no water ;"— and Burgos, that once had foiled, his 
 efforts, perished by the same hands which formerly had held it so suc- 
 cessfully. 
 
 Thus far Lord Wellington's rapid advance had been attended with 
 splendid success ; but bolder operations, and followed by more brilliant 
 results, remained behind. On the 13th, masked by his own cavalry, 
 and a swarm of Spanish partidas, he suddenly marched by his left, 
 to turn the sources of the Ebro, place his army between that river and 
 the Reynosa mountains, and cut the enemy from the sea. It was a 
 bold and judicious, but difficult and precarious, attempt ; and one from 
 Avhich a nervous commander would have recoiled. The line of march 
 ran through a mountain country, whose features were singularly 
 rugged. The valleys were deep ; gullies and ravines constantly pre- 
 sented themselves ; and the roads, narrow and broken, were unsuited 
 for the transport of field eqviipage and artillery. Still Lord Wellington 
 persevered ; and, nobly seconded by his gallant followers, every obstacle 
 was overcome. When the ordinary means of moving forward the 
 artillery were found impracticable, the guns were dismounted, and 
 lowered or swayed over precipices which threatened to bar their 
 farther progress. On went the Anglo-Portuguese divisions, in cease- 
 less march ; and, after six days of incessant exertion, the allied columns 
 issued from their mountain routes, and entered the deep valley of 
 Vittoria. 
 
 As yet I had never been fairly under fire ; our march from the Esla 
 to the Zadora had been one of manoeuvre, Lord Wellington turning 
 every position with admirable skill ; and the slight collisions which 
 occasionally resulted, occui'ring always between the light ti'oops. One 
 irregular but dashing aflfair, on the preceding day, liad taken place 
 unexpectedly, between a part of the light division and Maranzin's 
 brigade, at the entrance of the valley of the Boveda, in which the 
 French were severely handled, and narrowly escaped with the loss of 
 their baggage, and five hundred men. 
 
 We reached Espigo, after a very long march, late in the evening of 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAX. 351 
 
 the 18th; and early next morning, moved on to Bayas, in the Jiope of 
 forcing that pass, and cutting off the armies of the south, and centre. 
 But Reille had taken a strong position, with the army of Portugal, to 
 cover their passage through tlie defile of La Puehla. We were directed 
 to attack in front, vrhile the light division turned their position. A 
 brief affiiir ensued, during which the armies of the south and centre 
 threaded the defile, and came into line behind the Zadora. That object 
 gained, Reille fell back, and crossed the river, and we bivouacked for 
 that night upon the Bayas. 
 
 It was apparent to all that a great and decisive battle was at hand ; 
 King Joseph, with his immense pares and ambulances, was still in 
 front of Vittoria ; and although two huge convoys were ready for 
 France, and one had been already despatched, still the quantity of 
 baggage that remained was enormous, and the number of carriao-es 
 almost incredible. The whole of his miserable Court had followed the 
 steps of the royal fugitive. Traitors to their country, they had no 
 mercy to expect; and in flight alone, was safety. The immense quantity 
 of military stores — the accumulated mass of private plunder, collected 
 for years before, and noAv heaped together in the confusion of a hurried 
 retreat — the encumbrance of a numerous body of nobles and civilians, 
 — all these tended to render Joseph's position" the more embarrasssinf. 
 
 If he retreated without a battle, all must be lost He vacillated 
 
 valuable time slipped away — and at last he determined to ^' stand the 
 hazard of the die ;" and accordingly, took a position in front of 
 Vittoria. 
 
 On the evening of the 20th, we received intelligence that the 
 French were resolved to accept battle the next day ; and it was ascer- 
 tained that they Avere busily engaged in fortifying the ground that 
 Marshal Jourdan had selected. I was now on the eve of my first 
 field ; and a feeling of anxiety and restlessness kept me Avaking, while 
 two or three veterans, Avho were huddled into the same tent, slept so 
 soundly that I envied them. At day-break the camp was in a bustle. 
 The third, fourth, seventh, and light divisions, .which formed the 
 infantry of the centre, got speedily under arms ; and, accompanied by 
 a powerful artillery, and the whole of the heavy cavalry, we crossed 
 the ridges behind Avhich we had pitched our tents, and over a rugged 
 and difficult surface, moved stoutly and steachly towards the points 
 marked for our separate attacks. We took a position in front of the 
 bridge of Nanclares, covered from the enemy's fire by broken ground 
 and underwood, and there awaited the movements of the third and 
 seventh divisions, whom rougher ground and a greater distance had 
 hitherto prevented from getting up. 
 
 About ten o'clock the action began, by General Hill seizing the 
 village of Puebla, and Morillo attacking the heights that domineered 
 it. A doubtful and protracted struggle for the possession of the latter 
 ensued. The French supported IMaranzin, Avho held it ; and Sir 
 Rowland detached Colonel Cadogan, Avith two battalions, to sustain the 
 vSpaniards. Fresh troops, from time to time, came into action. 
 Villatte's division were drawn from the centre, to maintain the 
 heights. Hill reinfoi'ced the assailants j the contest still was doubtful: 
 
352 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 but Sir Rowland ended it by crossing the Zadora, pushing through the 
 defile of Puebla, and carrying the village of Subijana de Alava. 
 
 Three hours had passed ; and amid the intervals of the fire at Subijana, 
 a distant cannonade was faintly lieard upon our left, antl indicated that 
 Gi'ahani was up, and coming into action. Tlie light division had 
 already crossed the bridge of Tres Puentes ; one brigade of thethii'd 
 had forced that of Mendoza, and another, with the seventh division, 
 forded the river, and attacked the French right, in front of Margarita. 
 We were desired now to advance ; and, passing the bridge of Nan- 
 clares, were followed by the heavy cavalry, who, forming on our right 
 in squadrons, connected us with Sir Rowland's left. 
 
 Already, fearing that he should be turned on both flanks, Joseph had 
 issued orders to retreat ; and, covered by a cloud of skirmishers, and 
 under a tremendous fire of fifty pieces of artillery, he retired his 
 columns on Gomecha, where his reserve was posted. Now the battle 
 was at his height ; the third division carried the village of Ai'inez, 
 the 52d stormed Margai'ita ; and the 87th seized Hermandad. But the 
 last struggle was yet to come. Reille still maintained himself on the 
 Upper Zadora, and, with eighty pieces of artillery in full and rapid 
 play, the wreck of the armies of the south and centre were enabled to 
 fall back, and make their last stand, between the villages of Ali and 
 Ai-mantia. 
 
 For a mofnent the storm of artillery arrested the onward progress 
 of the allies. The battle raged furiously; bnt the struggle was fated 
 to be short. Cole ordered the fourth division to advance. On rushed 
 its noble battalions, nntamed by a terrible cannonade and a heavy and 
 well-supported musketry. The heights on the left of those occupied by 
 the French were carried, and the doubtful conflict ended in a total route. 
 
 Throughout the day I had been busily employed. I occasionally 
 carried orders ; anc" the steadiness with Avliich my noble horse faced 
 fire, attested the value of the Empecinado's present. I had procured 
 at Freuada a very respectable animal, on which to mount Mark 
 Antony; and, to do hi: i justice, the fosterer seemed to follow like a 
 
 shadow wdiere I went. Just as we crowned the height, General R 
 
 who was leading the column, beckoned to me, and I was directly at his 
 side. 
 
 "Gallop back. Tell to launch the cavalry boldly — see! — 
 
 the French infantry are mobbed, and running ! " 
 
 I had half wheeled round to convey the order, Avhen, suddenly, my 
 gallant charger gave a convulsive shudder, and sank inider me. I sprang 
 from the saddle before he had time to roll over, and called on the 
 fosterer to dismount — made one step to take his horse, and execute 
 the order, when a sharp stroke smote me on the head. All around 
 became confused — memory fled — and for a time I recollected nothing 
 but indistinctly. 
 
 When I did recover, I found myself under a small knoll, which 
 sheltered us from ranging shots : the fosterer on one side, a 
 twentieth grenadier on the other ; and my excellent and valued friend 
 Peter Crotty, seated on a dead horse, vis-d-vis, and giving oi'ders 
 for my resuscitation. 
 
HECTOR o'iiALLORAN. 353 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 SAN SEBASTIAN. 
 
 But, hark I that heavy sound breaks in once more, 
 
 As if the clouds its echo would repeat ; 
 
 And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before I 
 
 Arm : arm 1 it is — it is — the cannon's opening roar V 
 
 Childe Harold. 
 
 To the buzz of voices round me I had" been fully conscious for tlie 
 last five minutes; but the first words I understood distinctly, was an 
 earnest inquiry, on the part of Lieutenant Crotty, regarding the safety 
 of what he termed " the stolen horse ;" and great was his sorrow on 
 learning that the charger was defunct. 
 
 "Blessed Bridget!^ he exclaimed; "what a pity! AVorth two 
 hundred, if he was worth a taaster.* Well — it only shows that old 
 sayin's true — What comes over the old lad's back, whisks away under 
 his belly. But I woidd like to know what the divil killed the rider? 
 I've groped him all over, and sorra scratch I can find upon him but 
 this clip upon the head, and many a worse I've got often at a hurling 
 match. As he's dead, however — " 
 
 " I am not dead, Peter I " I muttered. 
 
 " Then, upon my sowl I'm glad to hear it from such good authority ! " 
 returned Mr. Crotty. " Give him another taste out of the canteen! If 
 there's hfe in a man, brandy's the thing to find it out. Here we are — 
 safe and comfortable against every thing but shells ; — I thought I heard 
 the whiz of one of them a while ago — may the curse o' God light 
 upon their inventor ! You must know I have a mortal dread of them 
 — and I'll tell ye why. — The day before Salamanca, when Marmont 
 and my Lord were watching each other like two pickpockets, the column 
 halted, to let the men cook dinner, if they had any to cook. Well — 
 I had none, — so I set out on the ramble, to see if luck would stand 
 jny friend — and who should I find behind a big rock, and eating cold 
 pork, but Pat Dogherty and Chai'ley Blake, of the ould " rough and 
 readies," — the 13th. " Peter!" says Charley, " did ye get ye'r dinner 
 yet?" " Divil a pick!" says I ; "and, whac's more, I wish somebody 
 would tell me where it's to come from?" "Draw a chair," says he, 
 jokin', " and take share of the pork." " Arrah, niver say it again," 
 says I. So down I pops upon the grass, and, feaks, made a beautiful 
 dinner of it. Well — out came the canteens, in coorse ; and we begins 
 drinkin' — when bang goes two or three guns from the hill 
 opposite us, on which the French were mai'chin'. " What's that ? " 
 
 * Anglice, — Tester, a sixpence. 
 A A 
 
354 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 says Charley. "Nothing," says Pat Dogherty, "only that thief 
 Marmont is bent upon some roguery; and just wants, by kickin' up 
 a vow, to draw off the old lad's attention ;" — manin, ye see. Lord 
 Wellington. " Blessed be God ! we're as safe here as if we were in 
 Kilmainliam Gaol," says I, looking up at the rock that was between us 
 and the French. " If Marmont batters away till he rises the price of 
 gunpowder, he'll do us no harm." Well, Pat Dogherty stepped 
 round, to see what the firing was about — and Charley Blake 
 had lifted the canteen : — " Here's the pope ! " says he, taking a 
 pull of the spirits ; and giving the health of his reverence out o' 
 compliment to me, because he thought I was a Catholic. As he said 
 the words, down drops an eight-inch shell between us. " Murder !" 
 says I, rowlin' myself down the hill, like a butter-firkin. " What's 
 that?" says Charley, who was always a stupid divil, and never could 
 bear to be interrupted in his drink. Och ! before I could make him 
 sensible, bang went the shell ! and when Pat and I got up, we found 
 Charley as dead as a mackarel ; and dinner, drink, and Pat Dogherty 's 
 new cloak-case, blown regularly to the divil ! No wonder I hate the 
 whiz of them Well, how do ye find yerself ?" 
 
 " Oh — pretty well ; but a confounded dizziness of the head 
 annoys me." 
 
 " Well, — ^take another drop. Look I'ound, Mark — isn't that the 
 name ye answer to ? Turn a man or two over, and you'll find a fresh 
 canteen, for this one's empty." 
 
 Indeed, there was no great difficulty in obtaining a liberal supply; 
 for the hollow that Peter Crotty had selected as uniting safety with 
 comfort, was thickly studded Avith dead and dying men ; and there was 
 scarcely a corpse, particularly a Frenchman's, from which a canteen 
 was not obtainable. 
 
 In the mean time, the roar of battle gradually subsided into a 
 spattering fire of musketry, interspersed by the booming of heavy guns, 
 as the horse artillery hung upon the French rear, and cannonaded 
 the dense masses of broken soldiery who hurried oflT in the direction 
 of Salvatierra. But, lightened of their arms, and covered by their 
 cavalry who still showed a steady front, they I'eached Metauco, closely 
 followed ; there night ended the pursuit, and the victors and the 
 vanquished claimed that season for repose which previous fatigue had 
 rendered so desirable to both. 
 
 There is no defeat on record, in which a beaten army lost so much 
 and lost so little, contradictory as tlie statement may appear. The whole 
 vmteriel of war, the entire park of artillery, with stores, ammunition, 
 trophies, treasure, and the most enormous collection of plunder that 
 ever an invading army attempted to carry from the countiy it had 
 for years despoiled, fell into the hands of the victors, or rather into 
 those of the degraded wretches who followed them, — while in men the 
 French loss scarcely exceeded that of the conquerors. 
 
 Before we had been an hour on the field, we were picked up, 
 stowed away in a French calech, from which a dansense on King 
 Joseph's establishment had been ejected — and carried through the 
 wreck of the enemy's plunder and military stores, into a city it had only 
 
a^icL.^ 
 
HECTOR OIMT.LORAX. 355 
 
 vacated at midday. Mr, Crotty's wound was not very important, as 
 the ball had passed clean through the thigh, and the hemorrhage been 
 stopped by a proper ligature. Mine was a more serious accident, and 
 gave me considerable annoyance for several weeks after it occui-red. 
 It is true that I had much reason to be thankful, if I would only put 
 faith in the report of my medicid attendant ; for he demonstrated, 
 clear as an axiom, that had the ball ttruck me the eighteenth part 
 of an inch in " fuller front," it woidd have popped through the 
 " 03 frontis" to a mord, and I should have been then " past pray- 
 ing foi;." 
 
 Three weeks elapsed — the painful effects occasioned by the con- 
 tusion gradually subsided, and within a month I was perfectly conva- 
 lescent. As to Peter Crotty, his disabled member was speedily restored 
 — and, at the end of a fortnight, he could have danced the pater- 
 o-pee. One thing occasioned some surprise. Lord "Wellington, in the 
 excitement of his victory, forgot to make personal inquiries after 
 his old partner's state of health, — and although his hospitality em- 
 braced the elite of his prisoners, and even the captured ladies were 
 guests at his table during his brief sojourn at Vittoria, by some 
 unaccountable oversight, a cover for Peter Crotty was forgotten — and 
 if an invitation had been sent him for a quiet rubber at head quarters, 
 unfortunately, it never reached its destination. Crotty, however, 
 ascribed this apparent forgetfulness to its true cause — a press of 
 business — and on one occasion, when we nearly ran against his lord- 
 ship in the street, Peter bolted round the corner, feeling, very 
 properly, that greetings in the market-place consumed valuable time, 
 and between old friends were quite unnecessary. 
 
 The subsequent operations after the victory of the 21st of June, 
 though not very important in themselves, proved the forerunners of 
 great events. Soult came from Germany, by Napoleon's order, to 
 assume the chief command and rally the beaten armies. Joseph 
 Buonaparte's royal puppetism ended, and he retired into France — 
 and Wellington followed up his victory by advancing to the Pyrenees, 
 blockading Pampeluna, and regularly investing San Sebastian. 
 
 At Vittoria the mixed character of which an army is composed, was 
 strikingly exhibited. Never, in the history of modern warfare, did 
 defeat tempt the cupidity of the soldier with more extensive or more 
 valuable booty, — and, to use the words of the historian, " the fighting 
 troops marched upon gold and silver without stooping to pick it up." 
 But to others, the display of wealth was too trying for their moral 
 endurance to withstand — the onwaixl step of victory was stayed for 
 filthy plunder, and, to the eternal disgrace of the delinquents, it was 
 known that some officers, forgetting caste and honour, shared in " the 
 disgraceful gain." The evil consequences were so mischievous, as in 
 some degree to paralyse the subsequent operations, and rob Vittoria 
 of what would have otherwise been its grand results. The soldiers, 
 instead of preparing food, and resting themselves after the battle, dis- 
 persed in the night to plunder, and were so fatigued, that when the 
 rain came on next day, they Avere incapable of marching, and the 
 allied army had more stragglers than the beaten one. Eighteen days 
 
 A a2 
 
3oG THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 after the victory, twelve thousand five hundred men, chiefly British, 
 were absent, most of them marauding in the mountains.* 
 
 No wonder, then, that the promptest means were used to thin the 
 hospitals of the sick and wounded, and forward the convalescent to their 
 regiments. Peter Crotty had been declared " ready for action ;" and 
 with some fifty privates and non-commissioned officers pronounced 
 " food for gunpowder" again. I determined to keep him company, — 
 and on the morning of the 18th of July, we quitted Vittoria, a month 
 after we had entered it, and took the route to rejoin the fourth division 
 in the Pyrenees. We reached Leyra on the 22d, and then learned 
 that San Sebastian had been sufficiently battered to warrant an 
 assault — and, as it was generally believed, the attempt would be 
 made next day. 
 
 Here was a noble opening for young ambition. Within a sharp 
 ride of a beleaguered city — and it, too, on the very point of being 
 carried by assault ! Why, my father was a very prophet — and the glori- 
 ous contingency he had only regarded with the eye of hope, was abso- 
 lutely thrown by fortune in my way. I was also a free agent — and 
 while Peter Crotty, " a man imder authority," of necessity, headed 
 towards the mountains with " his charge of foot," I had only to tirrn to 
 the sea — and if I pleased, gain laurels in the breach, or there get " a 
 quietus." I consulted the fosterer — and he at once declared that it 
 would not only be shameful but sinful, to let slip an opportunity of 
 the kind. " for the Lord only knew when such luck would. fall in our 
 way again ! " 
 
 Peter Crotty was taken into the number of our counsellors — and he 
 confirmed Mark Antony's reasoning to the very letter — accompanied 
 by a long jereraiade at being prohibited by duty from engaging in 
 an agreeable excursion. He, Peter, would never forget Badajoz — 
 Lord ! what fun there was after it — he did not particularise the fun 
 that was at it, nor detail the pleasant accompaniments of men being 
 blown up by the company. He, Peter, had been wounded, and resided 
 afterwards at a widow's house — a friendlier little woman he never met 
 with, — she was better to him than a bad step-mother — they went 
 regularly to mass — and he, Peter, was happy as the day was long. 
 Indeed, he had great doubts about the propriety of marrying her at 
 once — but her husband, not having " gone to glory," but to Mexico, 
 although he had not written for six months, still the devil, meaning 
 the husband aforesaid — might be alive after all. — " Oh ! blessed Mary \ 
 what fun you'll have !" concluded Peter. " You may rob a church, mur- 
 der a bishop, and bad luck to the inquiry, good nor bad, afterwards." 
 
 Pleasure thus unexpectedly presented, and accompanied with such 
 brilliant advantages, was not to be declined ; and as I had recovered 
 my lost horse, and procured a stout mule for the fosterer, we took the 
 road to glory — namely, the cross one running through Gozueta to 
 San Sebastian. 
 
 The defeat at Vittoria rendered the maintenance of this ancient 
 fortress an object of great importance to the French. Hitherto the 
 place had been greatly neglected, and even a part of its artillery 
 
 ■" Wellington Despatches. 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 357 
 
 removed. Instant order?, however, were issued by Joseph Buona- 
 parte to restore the works, replace the guns, and render it, as 
 far as possible, defensible. A garrison under General Key was hastily 
 thrown in — and that of Gueteria, after blowing up that place, rein- 
 forced it — stores and provisions were sent by sea from France — 
 whither, also, an enormous influx of Spanish and French refugees, 
 who had sought safety in the city, were directed to repair— and with 
 a brave garrison — and better still — [a determined governor, San 
 Sebastian prepared, by a vigoi-ous and, as it was expected, a successful 
 defence, to emulate those of Rodrigo, Badajoz, and Burgos, which had 
 conferred so much honour oh their respective commandants. 
 
 The investing army, amounting to about ten thousand men, was 
 composed chiefly of the fifth division, and two Portuguese brigades, — 
 General Graham commanded in chief — General Oswald en second — 
 and Colonel Dickson directed the siege artillery, amounting to forty 
 pieces of different descriptions, but all of heavy calibre. 
 
 On the night of the 10th, operations actively commenced. On 
 the morningof the 17tli, a strong outwork called San Bartolomeo, 
 Avith the adjacent suburb of San Martin, were carried by assault — 
 and on the '20th, the whole of the batteries commenced breaching 
 at once, without having first ruined the defences — a departure from 
 established practice which afterwards occasioned a galling failure, 
 attended with a heavy loss of gallant men. 
 
 It was the evening of the 23d, when I and my foster brother topped 
 a rising ground, which commanded a more immediate view of the 
 beleaguered city, and the investing army which encompassed it. For 
 fifteen miles the booming of heavy artillery gave us full assurance, 
 that, if our intent was " up to the breach ! " we were still in excellent 
 time. The thunder of the British batteries seemed to redouble as 
 we neared the fortress — and while the fire of the besieged was slack 
 and feeble, compared with that of the assailants; the roar from 
 the Chofre batteries was continuous— and the practice so beautiful 
 and correct, that a new breach on the riglit of the main one, had been 
 formed by that day's fire, and the wall for thirty yards exhibited a 
 perfect ruin. 
 
 It was a sight which, suddenly presented to an eye inexperienced in 
 the '' circumstance of war," would never fade from memory. The 
 sun was nearly setting — but there was no lack of light to induce the 
 besiegers to silence the fire of their guns. The mortar battery, erected 
 the preceding day to destroy the deiences, and ruin a stockade which 
 insulated the high curtain on the land front, had set the houses in the 
 immediate vicinity of the great breach in flames ; and, as they spread 
 rapidly, the safety of the town from that wild element appeared as 
 much endangered, as from the impendirg outburst of human violence. 
 Although in immediate expectation of the assault, this calamity did 
 not abate the confidence of the gallant old man who commanded; 
 but for a day, and under an erroneous belief that the burning houses 
 would isolate the breach if carried, the fearful trial was postponed. 
 All was ready to deliver the assault— the storming parties were in. 
 the trenches — but on the morning, the fire still raged with such 
 
358 THE FORTUNES OP 
 
 unconquered violence, that it was dreaded it would prove as formi- 
 dable to the assailants, as it had been found embarrassing to the assailed 
 — and consequently the storm Vas delayed, a circumstance, it was said, 
 that abated the ardour of the troops, and tended much to produce the 
 unfortunate failure which occurred next morning. 
 
 That awful pause — the day of the 24th, was not like the calm 
 which precedes the tempest. The batteries on the Chofre sand-hills 
 opened again, and a whirlwind of heavy shot enlarged the ruins at 
 the breaches, and, as it was hoped, injured the defences materially. 
 The fire of the garrison was nearly silenced — and while the means of 
 aggression were evidently reduced, they laboured diligently to render 
 those of resistance formidable and efficient. A cavalier that com- 
 manded the curtain was armed with field pieces — and every point, 
 whether of the castle or the hill, which looked upon the breach or its 
 approaches, was furnished with heavier artillery. The fausse hraye 
 beneath which the storming parties must advance, was lined with 
 shells and other destructive missiles, to be rolled down upon the 
 assailants as they advanced along its base — while every house within 
 musket range was loop-holed, and the breach carefully retrenched ; 
 but even had it been crowned successfully, still a sheer descent of fif- 
 teen feet remained before the assailants could reach a street composed 
 entirely of burning houses. 
 
 In war, there are wonderful accidents which lead frequently to 
 failure or defeat — and from fortuitous circumstances, great results 
 arise. In carrying a parallel across the Isthmus to reach the land 
 defences, the working party broke through the water-course of a 
 ruined aqueduct. An engineer boldly crept into the dark and 
 narrow drain — explored it carefully — and at the end of two hundred 
 and thirty yards, found himself separated from the counterscarp only 
 by a door, and directly in face of the right demi-bastion of the hoi'n- 
 work. Here fortune had befriended the besiegers, and supplied them 
 with an admirable mine. The engineers formed a globe of com- 
 pression at the extremity, and loaded it with an enormous charge of 
 powder — and though this dangerous operation was effected under the 
 feet of the French sentries, none took alarm, and the work was 
 silently and eiFectually completed. 
 
 The plan of attack was to assault the greater and lesser breaches 
 together, when the spring of the mine, formed in the head of the 
 aqueduct, should give the signal. It was expected that the explosion 
 there would fill the ditch of the horn-work with rubbish— and in 
 the confusion and surprise, the Portuguese might possibly escalade 
 at that point, and eflfect a lodgement in the place. The Royals were 
 directed against the great breach, supported by the ninth regiment — ■ 
 and the thirty-eighth were ordered to carry the smaller one. An 
 elite detachment, formed of the three light companies of these regi- 
 ments, attended by an engineer and ladder party, were designed to 
 have escaladed the high curtain, while the breaches were assaulted, 
 and clear the enemy from it with the bayonet ; and to this party, Mark 
 Antony and I attached ourselves. 
 
 Soon after midnight, the storming parties with the columns of 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 359 
 
 attack entered the trenches— and within three hundred yards of the 
 breaches, waited impatiently for sun-rise, when it had been arranged 
 that the assault was to be given. 
 
 There is no use in concealing it — that interval of two hours was 
 the most anxious passage of my history. I felt that, as if on the 
 hazard of a die, life or death depended. Dtu'kness and silence 
 prevailed — the latter only broken by the thunder of the breaching 
 batteries, which were kept in full play upon the breaches and defences. 
 Many an anxious inquiry was made to know " how time went," — many 
 an eager look was cast eastward to watch for early dawn — but hun- 
 dreds were fated never to witness the rising of another sun. While it 
 was still dark, the globe of compression formed in the head of the aque- 
 duct was fired. The storming parties rushed forwai'd from the trenches 
 — and the work of death began. 
 
 The explosion of the mine was unfortunately not heard at the 
 Chofre batteries, and the guns, instead of ceasing, continued in full play 
 upon the place. Hence, the assailants as they advanced, were 
 scoiu'ged by a double fire, and suffered more from the grape of their 
 own batteries than the enemy's cannonade. The narrow slip of 
 ground by which the stormers approached the breaches, contracted 
 between the river on one side, and the retaining wall of the horn-work on 
 the other, was embarrassed with rocks and pools of water, and conse- 
 quently, the movement of the column became disorderly. Under 
 a withering fire, the breach was 'gained — up flew the leading officers 
 — a few gallant soldiers followed — but the supports moved slowly — 
 the troops came straggling to the breach — and instead of mounting to 
 the assistance of the gallant few who had tdready crowned the ruins, 
 the greater portion of the assailants stopped at the bottom, and inter- 
 changed musketry with the French who lined the ramparts, and kept 
 up a deadly fusilade on the disordered mass below. The towers of Los 
 Hornos and Mesquitas opened a heavy flanking fire ; and from the 
 St. Elmo and the Mirador, grape fell in torrents upon the broken 
 column— the Castle threw shells with great precision — grenades were 
 flung from the ramparts — a stream of fire issued from the loop- 
 holed houses— while flames raging behind the breach, seemed to 
 forbid approach, even had offensive means been unemployed. 
 
 Still though the men fell by fifties, their ofiicers endeavoured to 
 rally them and cro'vvn the breach anew ; but every moment the chances 
 of success became more desperate. The regiments got intermixed, and 
 that terrible confusion of troops mobbed in a narrow space between 
 the breach and the Urumea, became irretrievable. At that moment 
 the remnant of our light companies pushed through the disordered 
 column, and Campbell, its chivalrous leader, followed by a daring 
 few, gained the summit. Mid-way up, my foster-brother fell — while 
 I, with a dozen or two, a second time reached the rampart. We 
 held it but a moment. Under the storm of musketry all went down ; 
 and there were but two or three standing, when a bullet stretched me 
 beside those with whom " life had ended." 
 
 It was the final effort ; the remnant of the assailants hurried off, the 
 regiments mobbed together, to seek shelter in the trenches ; marking. 
 
360 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 unhappily and too plainly, the lines of the advance and retreat with the 
 bodies of the dead and dying. The French tire ceased ; and although 
 tlie British batteries opened with redoubled violence on the enemy's 
 defences to cover the retirement of the shattered columns, several 
 of the gallant defenders of the breach braved the storm, to remove 
 the wounded within the town, and save them from the indiscrimi- 
 nating destruction which the British artillery poured alike on friend 
 and foe. 
 
 For a minute I was unconscious of what was passing ; and when 
 memory returned, I was in the act of being turned over by a French 
 soldier, who found, that from having fallen on my face, my present 
 position was not exactly favourable for his intended operations. 
 I looked wildly round ; several men in blue uniforms were examining 
 the fallen soldiers, who lay thickly on the summit of the breach as 
 leaves in autumn. Difterent objects influenced the examination : 
 some were seeking plunder — others, on a nobler errand, were sepa- 
 rating the wounded from the dead, to remove the former out of fire, 
 and obtain for them surgical assistance. As the grenadier rolled me 
 over, an officer stepped forward and inquired if 1 were " living or 
 dead ?" The voice was perfectly familiar ; with my cuff I wiped away 
 the blood, which, trickling from my forehead, had partially prevented 
 me from looking at the speaker before. "Is that Cammaran?" 
 I muttered, as I caught a glance of his Avell-rememl)erod features. 
 
 "Ha!" exclaimed the Frenchman, — '"my name I Sacre ! — who 
 have we here ? Eaise his head, Antoine. By heaven ! — the very 
 man on earth I would shed my heart's blood to save I " Next moment 
 he was kneeling at my side — and held me gently in his arms, until 
 I was lifted by four soldiers from the ground, and removed carefully 
 from the breach and out of the range of fire. 
 
 " Are you much hurt, my friend ?" inquired the gallant Frenchman. 
 "And where is your companion, my brave delivei'er?" 
 
 '• Alas I" I replied, " I fear that he is lost to me. He fell halfway 
 up the breach — and — " 
 
 " Ere my reply Avas given, Cammaran, after directing the party 
 to bear me to a neighbouring church which the French had converted 
 into an hospital, rushed to the breach again. Calling on a soldier to 
 follow, he descended the ruins of the broken wall, and, among a heap 
 of dead and dying, commenced looking for the object of his search. It 
 was a daring, an almost desperate attempt ; for, irritated at the failure 
 of the storming parties, every gun in battery was madly turned 
 against the breach and curtain, and showers of round and grape-shot 
 splintered against the unbroken masonry, or knocked the rubbish 
 wildly about, occasioning double danger to all within its reach. Un- 
 dismayed, the gallant Frenchman persevered ; and to his unfeigned 
 delight, in a man who had raised himself upon one elbow and was 
 gazing despondingly around, he recognised the person he risked so 
 much danger to discover — his former caraarado — the fosterer. 
 
 With the assistance of the grenadier who accompanied him, Mark 
 Antony was carried safely from the breach ; and in a few minutes 
 after my wounds had been carefully dressed, I had the happiness to 
 
HECTOR O'hALLORAN. 361 
 
 find my foster brother placed on a mattress beside my own, and hear 
 the French surgeon, on a hasty examination, announce to Captain 
 Cammaran the gratifying inteUigeuce, that Mark Antony was " not 
 past praying for" yet, but, with moderate good luck, might still 
 survive, to do " the state some service," and figure in another breach. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 CAPTIVITY. 
 
 " Three hosts combine to offer sacrifice ; 
 . Their tongues prefer strange orisons on high ; 
 
 Three gaudy standards flout the pale blue skies ; 
 The shouts are France, Spain, Albion— Victory !" 
 
 Chii.de Harold, 
 
 Day broke through the stained windows of the church ; and the can- 
 nonade, so fierce and incessant when I was being carried from the 
 breach, died suddenly away and not a gun was heard. I inquired 
 what might have caused this extraordinary silence, and learned from 
 un hospital-assistant that an hour's truce had been agreed on between 
 the besiegers and besieged, to permit the wounded to be succoured, 
 and allow helpless wretches who would otherwise have been drowned 
 by the rising of the Urumea, to be carried beyond the influence of the 
 tide, and taken either to the trenches or the town. On this work of 
 mercy Cammaran was absent ; and, as Mark Antony and myself were 
 sufficiently recovered to converse, we began to make mutual inquiries 
 touching our present position and future propects. 
 • " Upon my conscience," observed the fosterer, " now that we have 
 made the experiment, I can't say that I can either discover the advan- 
 tages your honoured father held out by letter, or the fun Mr. Crotty 
 described by 'word of mouth,' as attendin' these same sieges and assauhs. 
 To my mind Yittoria was the thing ;— beautiful day-hght ;— your 
 enemy decently before ye — if a man dropped, his comrades stepped 
 over him as if they were treading upon eggs, and he was removed 
 to the rear with every civility, to find a full flask on every body 
 he turned over, if he only had the luck to be settled in a decent 
 neighbourhood. Here — if this be fun, may the Lord deliver us from 
 such fun in future! We arc stuck down for two hours shivering in a 
 ditch. Whiz ! goes a mine — ' That's our mine, and the signal,' says^ 
 one engineer — ' The divil welcome the news !' says a second — and off 
 we iro blundering in the dark, the Lord knows where. Before we're 
 
362 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 well in motion, bang goes another explosion ! ' That's the enemy's,* 
 says another — and not a doubt about that, for up go the forlorn hope, 
 body and bones. ' Push on, lads,' cry the officers ; — one falls over a 
 
 d d rock, another souses into a pool of water ; on one side the 
 
 Fi-ench are firing like the divil — on the other, and I suppose, out of 
 personal respect, our own batteries consider it a compliment to knock 
 us over by the dozen. Well, we top the breacli at last — and a beautiful 
 prospect it is! — In front, a jump of twenty feet into a blazing house, or 
 you'r shot down right and left, like crows in a wheatfield. Arrah ! " 
 said Mark Antony, " if your father wrote every day in the week, 
 not forgettin' Sunday, the divil a such a night of pleasure will I put 
 in if I can help it. But, Mister Hector, what do ye suppose they'll do 
 with us?" 
 
 " "Why, possibly, keep us here for half our lives, and send us into 
 France to put in the remainder of them pleasantly." 
 
 " Ah, then, if they do," said the fosterer, " they'r cuter* than they 
 think. By all that's beautiful ! " and Mark flourished his sounder arm 
 over the blanket, — " I'll be off in a fortnight." 
 
 " No, not so soon," said a voice — laughingly ; and Cammaran 
 stepped from behind a wooden screen which had hidden him while 
 approaching. At the same moment a salvo of artillery thundered 
 from the Chofre battery — the guns of San Sebastian replied. The 
 truce had expired — and the game of death had recommenced. 
 
 " So end civilities," said the Frenchman ; " still it is comfortable to 
 know, that the calls of humanity have been attended to. I have 
 applied for what you call in England ' a billet' — that is, the com- 
 mandant's permission to reside during your convalesence in a private 
 house, instead of being exposed, as you would be otherwise, to the in- 
 convenience of a crowded hospital. For this indulgence I have given 
 my parole, and that leaves you at liberty to visit any part of the city 
 within the enceinte of the place when you are able to walk abroad. 
 I know that my good friend here, even if leg and arm were not hors 
 de combat as they are, would scarcely run away, when that act Avoukl 
 compi'omise my honour." 
 
 " Oh — by this book;" exclaimed the fosterer, raising himself upon 
 his elbow — " we're fairly ruined. Hector avourneeine ! Here we're 
 regularly on the langle. Arrah — INIister Cammaran, dear, I know ye 
 meant it for the best — but, why the divil did ye make a bargain of 
 the kind ? De ye think ye could get dacently out of it ? Och — if 
 we were only back in the country we were in, when we first became 
 acquainted with that Empecinado, as they call him — it was no 
 sayin' what luck might turn up stiU. This moment, going ta 
 be hanged — the next, drinking as if ye were at a priest's funeral. 
 * Turn him out to be shot,' was the order one minute — while, ' turn him 
 for brandy and water,' was the next. One minute you wern't master 
 of a scultof/ne — the next ye were riding in the saddle of a French 
 marshal. Of all the inns I ever stopped at, I never met any where 
 they pay scores as they do in Spain. You go to bed in peace oxid 
 
 * Anglice,— more cunning. 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 363 
 
 quietness, and you're bundled out before you're well asleep, to be told, 
 that you must fight your way through a yard-full of hussars, and swim 
 a river afterwai-ds that would give a water-dog rheumatism for life. 
 You stop at the next public house, and receive all manner of civility. 
 Of course, you're expected to pay up. Not at all : one black look from 
 an ill-visaged gentleman who accompanies you ; and the account is 
 rubbed off the slate in a jiffy. Excepting there was over much shoot- 
 ing and hanging — a pleasanter excursion I never would desire — but, 
 may the Lord forgive us I we were not sufficiently thankful at the 
 time." 
 
 " Well, — my dear friend;" said Captain Cammaran, with a smile. 
 " My engagement is only binding while you are invalided. TMien 
 perfectly recovered, my parole is easily recalled — and I have no doubt 
 you will be very comfortable in La Mota. Plenty of fresh air— and 
 free liberty to seek any corner you may fancy, as the least unlikely 
 for a shell to drop upon. In the mean time, I recommend you to 
 accept the billet I have obtained — and by the way, in the house of a 
 Spaniard in worse odour with the old commandant than Don Francisco 
 La Pablos, you could hardly have been established. But I have 
 ah'eady ordered apartments to be prepared, and will see that every 
 attention shall be paid to you. This place wiU be presently intole- 
 rable, and the sooner you remove to your new quarters all the 
 better. 
 
 The last remark was unhappily correct. The church fille 1 rapidly 
 with the wounded. Every minute fresh sufferers were brought in — 
 and the scene of butchery — merciful and necessary — which com- 
 menced, was to us, particularly disgusting. It was wonderful how 
 differently men submitted to sad alternatives, — death or amputation. 
 One, an officer of faultless symmetry, sternly rejected the advice of 
 his kind attendants. '• Nothing but the removal of the fractured limb 
 can save you — you will die, otherwise ;" said the French surgeon. 
 "TTell — belt so," returned the sufferer calmly, "death is preferable to 
 deformity. Lose no time with me — you may be serviceable to my 
 poor comrade." Immediately beside him, a young lad was stretched — 
 I should say he was not nineteen— a fine, florid, healthy looking 
 Englishman. His wound had been a severe contusion — and a passing 
 observation of the French surgeons, announced that his was a hopeless 
 case. And yet, death visited him in mercy. He appeared to un- 
 dergo no pain — and in fancy, conversed with a "darling mother" 
 and his " httle sister," as he termed them — " babbled about green 
 fields ;" and expired with a smile upon his hps, under the firm belief 
 that he had returned to the home he loved, and was re-united to those 
 dear objects whom he idolized. 
 
 I never felt myself more reUeved, than when a French fiitigue-party 
 came to remove me on a stretcher. AVeak from loss of blood — dis- 
 pirited at the painful recollection that I was now about to undergo 
 imprisonment, to whose duration none could name the limit— every 
 thing around was calculated to increase those feelings of despondency. 
 The gloomy building seemed desecrated by the purposes it had been 
 turned to — and where the faithful had worshipped, the penitent had 
 
304 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 told the tale of sin and shame, and been forgiven— where love had 
 been hallowed by holy rite, and supplications for the soul's weal of the 
 departed had arisen — in that the temple of peace, war's hoi'rid conse- 
 quences were exhibited — and, in all the terrible variety which attends 
 on death by violence, many a spirit was escaping from its mortal 
 coil. 
 
 The house where I was about to take up my residence was situated 
 close to the harbour, and, being at a distance from the breaches, was 
 consequently, out of the lire of the besiegers. As we passed through 
 the sti'eets, I could not but remark the melancholy and deserted ap- 
 pearance that all around presented. The shops were unopened — the 
 private dwellings jealously closed up — and the terrified inhabitants 
 seemed not yet satisfied that the assault had failed, and danger was 
 over for the present. "When we reached the domicile of La Pablos, 
 we found that our arrival had been duly announced. We were 
 admitted into a narrow court-yard — and at the door of his mansion, 
 the owner was waiting to receive us. 
 
 The appearance of my future host was not particularly prepossess- 
 ing. Although stricken in years, his carriage was lofty and un- 
 broken — and the expression of his countenance seemed that of a 
 proud and daring spirit, obliged to bend for a time to circumstances, 
 and stoop to a thraldom from which it secretly recoiled. 
 
 The Spaniard showed the way in — and I was placed on a comfort- 
 able bed, in an apartment very clean, but very plainly furnished. At 
 the opposite side of the hall, a room had been provided for Mark 
 Antony — for whose transit to these his new quarters, after I had 
 been safely deposited, the stretcher and fatigue party were despatched. 
 " I will send you some linen — and that is more than many of our 
 people could afford. In turn of duty, the escort of the convoy which 
 marched for France on the I9th fell to my lot — and bitterly I lamented 
 that I Avas not fated to witness the defeat, which we all considered as so 
 certainly attendant on Lord Wellington's advance upon Vittoria. The 
 thing seems incomprehensible — and even yet we regard the king's 
 disaster almost as a dream. Well — let it pass — dest fortune de guerre. 
 The Emperor's lieutenant is in the Pyrenees — and now, my Lord 
 Wellington, look sharp !" 
 
 " Might not that cautionary hint, my dear Cammaran, be equally 
 serviceable to your fi'iend, the Duke of Dalmatia ?" I replied, with a 
 smile. 
 
 '* No — no. From secret intelligence which has reached the fortress, 
 a very few days Avill end your leader's visionary prospects. What ! 
 enter France — carry the Avar over the frontier, and pollute the sacred 
 soil ! The tliunderbolt is charged — and the hand is already present 
 that will hurl it. But I must go. Duty will engage me the whole 
 day, but in the evening I will visit you." — Then turning to our host, 
 Cammaran commended me and my companion to his especial attention. 
 " Let nothing in this case be wanted, Senhor — you stand already not 
 very favourably with the Governor. Adieu, for a time, my friend" — 
 and pressing my hand, the Frenchman took his departure. 
 
 I never saw a countenance on which scorn, hatred, and i-evenge. 
 
HECTOR OHALLOllAN. 3Gj 
 
 seemed struggling for mastery, until I noticed that of Don Francisco. 
 "NVlien the door of the court-yard closed, he poured forth a torrent of 
 anathemas — tlien turning to me, his features instantly relaxed — and 
 approaching my couch he took my hand in his. 
 
 " Stranger, you are welcome. The name of Englishman I respect — 
 and tlie Spaniard is an ingrate who does not. If my manner in receiving 
 you Avas not as warm as it might have been, ascribe it to the true cause 
 — the pestilential presence of yonder foreigner. The sight of these 
 insolent oppressors tui-ns my blood to gall — their very language is dis- 
 cord to my ears — I hate them with all a Spaniard's hatred. But why 
 display impotent rage in words ? — 'Tis womanly — yet still, while the 
 hand dares not strike a blow, the tongue finds some relief in venting 
 the feelings of a surcharged breast — a maddened brain — in curses." 
 
 I looked at La Pablos. His features were convulsed with passion. 
 I had heard that many severities had been exercised by the French 
 during the Peninsular conflict — and I concluded that Don Francisco 
 had been one of the unhappy Spaniards who had suiFered from the 
 oppression of the invaders. The arrival of the fosterer, for that time, 
 ended our conversation — the host quitting me to attend to this his 
 second guest, and minister to the wants of Mark Antony. 
 
 Four days passed away — I had sufficiently recovered to be enabled 
 to leave my room ; and, leaning on the arm of a French soldier, who 
 was daily in attendance on me by a special order from the Governor, 
 I walked for a short distance every morning on the ramparts which 
 overlooked the bay. My wound, though severe at the time that I re- 
 ceived it, was one that healed rapidly — the bullet having slanted from 
 the rib it struck against, and instead of taking what would have been 
 otherwise a mortal direction, it inflicted a painful, but fortunately what 
 proved a superficial injury. The fosterer Avas also convalescent — the 
 ball had passed through his thigh without injuring the bone in its 
 transit — his arm healed rapidly — and in a few days more the learned 
 leach who attended us, announced that Mark Antony would be, as 
 the fosterer termed it himself, " right upon his pins again." 
 
 So far we had reason for self-gratulation — and as far as kindness 
 from the host, and constant attentions on the part of Cammaran would 
 go, we had no reason to complain of our captivity. But other cir- 
 cumstances allayed the satisfaction we should otherwise have felt — 
 for every day the prospect of deliverance became more distant, and 
 matters assumed a gloomier aspect. 
 
 Lord Wellington, on hearing of the miscarriage at San Sebastian, 
 i'ame down from the covering army to ascertain the causes of the 
 itiilure, and, as it was reported, to adopt immediate means to remedy 
 the disaster, and make himself master of the place. But, alas! our hopes 
 that the speedy capture of the city would restore us to liberty again, 
 ended on the morning of the 27tlu Overnight, the batteries had been 
 disarmed and the guns removed to Passages — the siege was turned 
 into a blockade — and taking advantage of the confusion, the garrison 
 sallied from the horn-work, surprised the soldiers in the trenches, and 
 carried back more tlian two hundred prisoners. Rumour also was 
 bu«y on the wing. It was said that Soult had already taken the 
 
366 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 offensive — that tlie allied forces in advance, had been attacked, 
 defeated, and driven back — and an order, directing Sir Thomas Gra- 
 ham to march on the Bidassoa with all his disposable troops, confirmed 
 the unwelcome news. 
 
 The intelligence that Napoleon's lieutenant had actually commenced 
 operations to relieve Pampeluna and San Sebastian, and afterwards 
 celebrate his mas^'er's birth-day in Vittoria, was perfectly coi-rect. On 
 the same morning and hour, while we had made our sanguinary and 
 unsuccessful attempt upon the fortress, Soult commenced his daring 
 operations, by di-iving in the pickets and scaling the pass of Alto- 
 bisco. Although desperately outnumbered, the allies held their 
 mountain position most obstinately — and for hours the combat raged 
 with unabated fury, among wild and Alpine heights five thousand feet 
 above the level of the sea. This protracted defence allowed time for 
 others of the allied brigades to come, while a dense fog prevented the 
 French marshal from executing the general attack he intended to have 
 made Avith overwhelming numbers. Cole held his position with com- 
 paratively little loss — and when night came, finding his right turned 
 at Orbaiceta, he cleverly retreated during the dai-kness, carrying ten 
 thousand men safely through mountain passes, which rendered a re- 
 gressive movement in the face of thirty thousand French bayonets a 
 delicate and dangerous attempt. The position of Roncesvalles was 
 consequently abandoned — and the first great effort from Avhich Soult 
 had expected far different results, left him with the allied brigades 
 still like lions in the passes, and seven leagues of Alpine country 
 interposed between him and Pampeluna, the grand object of his 
 operations. 
 
 On the morning of the 26th, the French marshal resumed the offen- 
 sive. A day of occasional combats and severe marching, while the 
 English generals slowly and steadily fell back, produced no- greater 
 results than those attendant upon yesterday. Night came — and Soult, 
 with altered convictions as to the probability of eventual success, 
 waited for morning to try his fortunes in the field anew. 
 
 The third trial was certainly more pi-opitious. The Aretesque and 
 Maya passes were attacked in great force, and, aided by a partial sur- 
 prise, the French were enabled to drive the pickets back upon their 
 supports, — and eventually, but after the most desperate fighting, the 
 allied position was won. Four Portuguese guns were captured — and 
 the French, elevated by this success, pressed the reduced battalions, 
 who still retired, but slowly and suUenly, blocking up each ridge or 
 pass they defended with the bodies of the dead and dying. At six 
 o'clock, completely worn out with fatigue, their numbers reduced to a 
 third, their ammunition almost expended, the rocky heights of Atchiola 
 were about to be abandoned — but at the moment, a brigade of the 
 seventh division came opportunely up — the battle was sternly renewed, 
 and the French forced to retire from the disputed mountain, and 
 occupy the pass of Maya which they had won so dearly. In these 
 sanguinary and protracted combats, Soult, with an expenditure of 
 fifteen hundred men, gained a few miles of mountain and four disabled 
 guns — a miserable trophy for such a waste of blood. 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 367 
 
 Nothing could surpass the triumph of the garrison when the intelli- 
 gence of the marshal's advance was confirmed — and the afiairs of these 
 three days mountain warfare were grossly mistated. Roncesvalles and 
 Linzoain were described as brilliant actions — glorious to the arms of 
 France ; while Maya was exaggerated into a crowning victory. 
 
 But the hours of Soult's temporary success were numbered. On 
 his return from San Sebastian, "NVellington heard of the French attack 
 on the evening of the 27th, and hurrying forward to^San Estevan, 
 which he reached the morning of the 28th — there ascertained 
 the true position of affairs. His plans were formed with his ac- 
 customed rapidity and decision — and he determined to concentrate 
 in front of Pampeluna, and retreat by the valley of the Lanz. 
 
 In the meantime, the fortress profiting by the cessation of the invest- 
 ment, received ample supplies of stores and ammunition by sea from 
 France, and in return transmitted back the sick and wounded, thus 
 getting relieved of the most troublesome incumbrance with which a 
 beleaguered city is incommoded. New defences were planned and exe- 
 cuted — former damages repaired — the works were generally strength- 
 ened — the magazines stored with powder and j^rovisions — and San 
 Sebastian was, in this interval, rendered stronger than when the be- 
 siegers first broke ground. 
 
 All these events to me held out a melancholy prospect. It was 
 already intimated that on tlie first favourable opportunity the prisoners 
 would be forwarded to France — and in that case, captivity and the 
 war would be coeval. A yearning after home momentarily increased. 
 Isidora was ever present — and I cursed the horn- that, for the bauble, 
 fame, I had quitted the land of liberty and love. Mark Antony bore 
 thraldom even more impatiently than I. He cursed France, Spain, 
 and Portugal in a breath — read a letter from the rat-catcher once a 
 day — and another, I fancy from the lady of his love, " every minute 
 i' th' hour." 
 
 "What the devil are we to do, Mark?" I inquired, after we had 
 groaned in unison until both were weary of complaining. 
 
 " Do !" exclaimed the fosterer, " Give the thieves leg-bail^ and ' cut 
 our lucky ' the first opportunity." 
 
 There was wisdom in Mark Antony's advice, and I determined to 
 follow it. t 
 
308 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 BATTLES OP THE PYRENEES. 
 
 " If I begin the battery once again, 
 
 I will not leaTe the half-achieved Harfleur, 
 Till in her ashes she lie buried." 
 
 IQxG Henry V. 
 
 The exultation of the French garrison at the reported victories 
 which had crowned the efforts of Soult for the relief of Pampeluna 
 was but a short-lived triumph — for an attempt vauntingly commenced, 
 and certainly very gallantly carried out, had been signally defeated. 
 
 Picton, followed closely by Soult, had retreated through the valley 
 of the Zuberi before day-break. On nearing Pampeluna, the English 
 general found that the fourth division had already passed Villalba ; 
 the garrison of Pampeluna had sallied and spiked a battery — the 
 blockading Spaniards were in terrible confusion — and every thing 
 bore the appearance of disaster. With a stern hardihood, which 
 formed the best point in Picton's military character, he determined at 
 once to turn and offer battle to the pursuers — and accordingly, formed 
 in battle order upon the ridges of Miguel, Escova, and Christoval ; thus 
 masking the fortress lie came to relieve from Soult's view as he issued 
 from the valley of the Zuberi. 
 
 The French marshal felt little doubt that the object of liis 
 previous efforts was now about to be realized. Within two leagues 
 of Pampeluna he followed a retiring army, and in another hour 
 Avould be in communication with tliat fortress. Wliat, then, Avas 
 his surprise, when on emerging from the valley, he found the 
 third division and Morillo's Spaniards in position on the bold and 
 rocky chain rising in front of Huarte, and Cole more immediately 
 advanced, in possession of the heights near Zabaldica -which command 
 the Huarte road ? Hastily he adopted and executed a bold movement 
 to form a line of battle ; but, while that was in progress, anotlier and 
 a greater ac^tor appeared suddenly upon the stage ; and when he came, 
 the tide of Soult's fortune turned, and defeat followed in his footsteps. 
 
 On quitting the Bastan on the 27th, Lord Wellington learned at 
 Ostiz, that Picton had I'etired on Pampeluna, and, riding at speed to 
 Sauroren, he perceived Clausel's divisions in full march, and with an 
 eagle-glance discovered from the direction taken by the French 
 columns, that the allied movement through the Lanz must certainly 
 be intercepted. There was not a moment to be lost ; an order was 
 despatched that the troops should move bodily by the riglit towards 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 3G9 
 
 Oricain, a village nearly in the rear of the mountain position taken up 
 by Sir LoAvry Cole. 
 
 In issuiuii: this hurried order, one of war's romantic incidents 
 occurred. Tlie despatch was written on the parapet of the bridge ; 
 and as the stati'-officer who carried it, rode out of one extremity of 
 the village, tlie French cavalry galloped in at the otlier ; while the 
 allied commander dashed quickly up the hill, and joined the allied 
 troops who held it. His appearance was sudden, unexpected, and 
 electrical. A Portuguese battalion raised an exulting cheer — the 
 name of Wellington ! passed from regiment to regiment, accomi)anied 
 by a thundering huzza ; while, by a strange coincidence, Soult was at 
 the moment so immediately in front, that the rival commanders were 
 pointed out distinctly to each other. The evening passed Avithout 
 any striking eifort. Soult examined the allied position under the fire 
 of his light troops— a thunder-storm ended the skirmish, and both 
 sides determined on a trial of skill and strength to-morrow. 
 
 The 28th, a day ever memorable in peninsular history, found both 
 sides prepared for action. Soult, intending to crush the left of the 
 fourth division, and ignorant of the march of the sixth, made dispo- 
 sitions to enable him to attack Cole's left and front together, while 
 Ileille, at the same time, should carry the height held by the Spaniards 
 and the British 40th. The former effort turned out a fatal experiment; 
 and the blow intended to crush the allied brigade before it could be 
 assisted met with a tremendous counter-stroke. '• Striving to encompass 
 the left of the allies, the French were themselves encompassed." 
 Suddenly a Portuguese brigade appeared upon their right ; the sixth 
 division showed itself as unexpectedly in front ; the fourth turned 
 fiercely on their left ; and, scourged at the same time by a front and 
 flanking fire, the French columns were driven back, men falling fast 
 on both sides ; for the French fought desperately, but in vain. 
 
 The struggle for the mountain produced still bloodier combats. A 
 hermita crowned the height, and the chapel was held by a regiment of 
 Portuguese Cacadores. Against it a colunui issued from Sauroren, and, 
 heedless of a sweeping fire that fell upon it with deadly violence, as in 
 close order it steadily pushed up the hill, the ridge was crowned, and 
 the Ca9adores obliged to abandon the hermita. But Ross's brigade 
 w^ere at hand, and with a headlong charge the heights were cleared, 
 and the chapel recovered with the bayonet. A second time the French 
 rallied, advanced, and were repulsed — but other columns were coming 
 into action. The right flank of Iloss's brigade became exposed — for a 
 Portuguese battalion gave way — a heavy colunm of the enemy pressed 
 on, and the British regiments retired for a time, but was only to return 
 more fiercely to the attack. " Charge succeeded charge, and each side 
 yielded and recovered by turns." At that moment, Byng's brigiide ra- 
 pidly advanced ; while two noble regiments of Anson's — the 27th and 
 48th — rushed from the centre, bore down everything before them, and 
 the French were literally pushed down the heights by close and mur- 
 derous fighting, which AVellington termed " bludgeon work." On the 
 hill occupied i)y the 40th and Spaniards, Reille's attack had failed — 
 for, although the regiment of El Pruvia gave way, flanked by a Por- 
 tuguese battalion, the 40th held its ground immovably. Four times 
 
370 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 the French topped the height — four times they w ere pushed down by 
 the bayonet ; each chai-ge herahled by a cheer, and each repulse bloodier 
 than the preceding one ; until, at last, strength and spirit equally 
 exhausted, they refused to follow their officers and gave up the trial 
 in despair. 
 
 The 29th passed quietly — both sides required rest — and to each some 
 time was necessary to get their dispersed brigades again together. Not 
 a shot was interchanged that day ; but never did a more ominous tran- 
 quillity forerun the hurricane of war. It was now evident that all idea 
 of re-entering Spain must be abandoned. The front displayed by 
 Lord Welhngton was not to be forced ; and the French cavalry and 
 artillery — only encumbi'ances in a mountain-country — were ordered 
 to fall back and retire to the Bidassao. While waiting for D'Erlon 
 to come up, Soult received intelligence which induced him to change 
 his original plans, and he determined to throw himself between the allies 
 and the valley of the Bastan, thus securing a close communication with 
 the French frontier, and falling back on his reserves, while, by a bold 
 and well-combined movement, he might fortunately eftect one great 
 object of his advance into the passes of the Pyrenees, — the relief of 
 San Sebastian. 
 
 Although unhappily non-combatant, still the operations of the con- 
 tending armies which, day after day were severely engaged, or placed 
 in the immediate presence of each other, to us were of absorbing 
 interest. The first reports that reached the fortress were sadly dis- 
 heartening ; but on the fourth morning, a striking alteration was 
 visible on the countenance of our friend Cammaran, when he called 
 to announce " tidings from the host." His mercurial temperament, 
 yesterday in the very ascendant of fever heat, had sank almost to 
 zero, and it was very amusing to observe the ingenuity with which, 
 while admitting stubborn facts, he still endeavom-ed to apply pallia- 
 tives to his diappointment — 
 
 "Ah — sacre ! what a country to operate in! Legs were of no 
 use among those accursed Pyrenees, — men should have wings. What 
 splendid combinations were those of the Emperor's lieutenant ! Only 
 for broken roads, ruined bridges, infernal gullies, and inaccessible 
 mountains, the Due's movement would have been a march of victory. 
 He would have been at Vittoria on the 16th." 
 
 •' Pshaw !" I said, breaking in on the detail with a laugh — "He 
 would never be contented to stop there. Why not push for Madrid 
 at once?" 
 
 " Ah, you smile, my friend ;" replied Cammaran, with a sigh. 
 "But, peste! the d— d fogs confused the general movements. One 
 division went astray — another was obliged to halt — columns marching 
 over precipices could not keep time. Ah ! those accidents saved my 
 Lord Wellington ; the delay enabled him to collect his scattered 
 corps, and when the Marshal cleared those infernal valleys and defiles 
 with scarcely half the corp:i iVarmee disposable, there — Sacre Dieu ! 
 was your general in front of Pampeluna with all his divisions up and 
 in position ! " — 
 
 "And honest Jack Soult discovered that all his magnificent combi- 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 371 
 
 riatioi"!S and previous success, had ended in his catching a Tartai- 1 — 
 Ah ! Cammaran, I feel tor you, my poor friend. But out with it at 
 once — or I'll compassionately do it for you. The upshot is, you have 
 got a confounded thrashinj^" — 
 
 " No — no — no ;"' exclaimed the Yoltigeur. " The plan of opera- 
 tions is only changed — " 
 
 " And the Emperor's lieutenant has postponed the birth-day enter- 
 tainment ; and, in place of resting on the Zodorra, he will be over the 
 Bidassao in a day or two. AVell, I can feel for you. But custom 
 reconciles people to contingencies ; and latterly you have been so 
 regularly beaten that it is a novelty no longer." 
 
 The Yoltigeur smiled, shrugged his shoulders, pleaded duty in 
 excuse for a brief visit, and hurried away — I suspect to avoid my 
 badinage, which, at the time, was anything but agreeable. 
 
 Indeed, judging from the scanty information I received, the deduc- 
 tions I had drawn of ulterior consequences proved correct. As yet 
 the French Marshal had only vritnessed the complete miscarriage of 
 all he had designed an<l hoped for: but now, the penalty of the failure 
 was about to be exacted. 
 
 In pursuance of his altered plans, on entering the valley of Ulzema, 
 where he overtook D'Erlon, who had already reached it at the head of 
 live divisions, and with a sixth (Martinier's) in his rear, the Frencli 
 Marshal instantly determined to crush the corps under Sir Rowland 
 HiU posted on the ridge of Buenza. All was in his favour — the 
 allies were scarcely half his strength, and the left of their position was 
 vulnerable. The attack was fiercely made, as fiercely repulsed, and 
 every effort against the allied flanks was unsuccessful. Finally, num- 
 bers enabled the French marshal to turn the position ; but Hill steadily 
 retired on Equaros, and there, joined by Campbell's Portuguese bri- 
 gade and Morillo's Spaniards, he again boldly stood his ground and 
 offered battle. But Soult declined an action — and, contented with 
 having gained the Isurzun road, he determined to force his way to 
 San Sebastian ; but it was decreed that, like Pampeluna, the fortress 
 on the Urumea should be abandoned to its fate. 
 
 Wellington had penetrated the designs of his able opponent, and, 
 with characteristic decision, prepared to meet them with a counter- 
 stroke. With him, to decide and execute were synonymous ; and in 
 the second conflict at Sauroren, the intended blow was heavily deli- 
 vered. It will be enough to say that, in the conflicts which ensued, 
 the French were completely beaten. On the allied side the loss of 
 men was heavy in killed and wounded, amounting to eighteen hundred. 
 On the French it was enormous — two divisions — those of Maucune 
 and Couroux were almost destroyed — the general disorganization 
 was complete — Foy cut otF from tlie main body altogether — three 
 thousand men were prisoners — and nearly as many more rendered 
 hors de combat. It was not the severe losses he had sustained which 
 alone embarrassed the French comm.ander. The allies everywhere 
 were gathering around him in strength — his troops were overmarcliefl 
 and dispirited — his position untenable — all idea of advancing on San 
 Sebastian abandoned — and the onjy door open for retreat wa; to gain 
 
 B B 2 
 
372 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 the pass of Doiia Marlu, and by forced marches fall back on San 
 Estevan. Accordingly, at midnight, his troops were put in motion to 
 reach this dangerous defile, and thence, by ascending or descending 
 the Bidassao, regain the French frontier. How painful this retrogressive 
 movement must have been, may well be fancied. Now " the leader of a 
 broken host," and smarting the more keenly from defeat, because he had 
 too presumptuously affirmed a certainty of success, and assui'ed his troops 
 of victory. 
 
 Nothing could be more critical than Soult's position ; and while 
 Wellington supposed that he intended entering the Bastan by the 
 pass of Villate, the French marshal was too close to Buenza to hazard 
 a retreat by the valley of the Lanz. Indeed, his situation was so dan- 
 gerous, that a less determined commander might have despaired. His 
 only means of egress from these mountains was by a long and perilous 
 defile leading to an Alpine bridge, and both were overlooked by tower- 
 ing precipices ; while, from holding a shorter and easier line of march, 
 the chances were considerable that Wellington would anticipate his 
 movements, and reach Elizondo — Graham seize Yanzi before he could 
 arrive there — Hill fall on his flanks and rear, if obliged, as he should 
 be in these events, to take the route of Zagaramundi — and, in the 
 end, even if he fought his way to Urdax, he might find that position 
 preoccupied, and his retreat finally intercepted. Fortune averted 
 the great calamity ; but still safety was to be purchased at a heavy 
 sacrifice. 
 
 As he had dreaded, Soult's rear-guard was overtaken near Lizasso — 
 was attacked — defeated — and saved only by a fog which opportunely 
 covered a hurried retreat. At Elizondo a large convoy with its guard 
 was captured ; but tlie crowning misfortune was impending, when, 
 ignorant of Lord Wellington's proximity, Soult halted in the valley of 
 San Estevan. Behind the ridges which ovei'look the town four allied 
 divisions were halted — the seventh held the mountain of Dona Maria — 
 the light, with a Spanish division, were in hasty march to seize the 
 passes at Vera and Echallar. — Byng had reached Maya, and Hill was 
 moving on Almandon. Every arrangement to enclose the retreating 
 army was complete, and never, in military calculations, was the 
 destruction of an enemy more certain, than that which awaited Soult. 
 Unconscious of his danger, the French marshal gave no indications of 
 alarm. With him, there was no appearances to excite suspicion, — no 
 watch-fire indicated the presence of an enemy — no scouting-party was 
 seen upon the heiglits. Two hours more, and the fate of the Emperor's 
 lieutenant would have been sealed, when one of those trifling incidents 
 occurred, which in war will render the most studied and scientific 
 efforts unavailing, and extricate from perilous results, those who have 
 dared too much, but to whom despair is happily a stranger. Possibly, 
 in the varied fortunes of a life " crowded v/ith events," never did 
 accident tax the Great Captain's ])hilosophy more severely. 
 
 Unseen himself, Wellington with an eagle's glance watched from a 
 height the progress of his combinations. The quarry in the valley 
 rested in false security, even when the falcon on the rock was pluming 
 his feathers and preparing for a fatal stoop. A few French horsemen 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAX, 373 
 
 carelessly patroled the hollow, and althougli a hundred eyes were 
 turned upon them, they saw nothinji: which could betray the presence 
 of an enemy or excite alarm. At that moment three plunderers crossed 
 their path. They were seized, carried off; presently the alai*m was 
 beaten, and in a tew minutes the French columns were under arms and 
 in full retreat ; and " Thus," to quote Napier's words, " the disobe- 
 dience of these plundering knaves, unworthy of the name of soldiers, 
 deprived our consummate commander of the most splendid success, 
 and saved another from the most terrible disaster." 
 
 Although its total deroute was nari'owly averted, no army suffered 
 for a time more severel}^ than the retiring columns of the French. 
 Cumbered with baggage, embarrassed with the transport of the 
 wounded, confined to a strait and diUicult mountain-road, no wonder 
 that the whole mass of fighting and disabled men were occasionally in 
 terrible confusion. The light troops of the fourth division appeared 
 upon their right flank, and, moving by a parallel line, maintained a 
 teazing fusilade. The bi-idge leading to that of Yanzi was strongly 
 occupied by a battalion of Spanish sharp-shooters. D'Erlon, profiting 
 by the inaction of Longa and Barcenas, forced the pass ; but Reille 
 was not so fortunate. The light division, by an unequalled exertion, 
 crossed forty miles of mountain-country by one incessant march ; and 
 they had already crowned the summit of the precipice which overhangs 
 the pass to Yanzi at the perilous moment when Reille's exhausted 
 column was struggling through the '• deep defile." Never was a 
 worn-out enemy placed in a more terrible position. On one side, a 
 deep river with rugged banks ; on the other, an inaccessible precipice, 
 topped by an enemy secure from everything but the uncertain effect 
 of vertical fire. The scene which ensued was frightful. Disabled 
 men were thrown down, deserted, and ridden over. The feeble return 
 to the British musquetry produced no reaction. The bridge of Yanzi 
 could not be forced ; and night came opportunely, permitting the 
 harassed column to escape by the road of Echallai*, leaving, however, 
 the wounded and the baggage to the victors. 
 
 The last struggle was at hand. Soult, with an indomitable courage 
 which even in defeat establislied his military superiority, by powerful 
 and personal exertions, rallied liis broken troops, and once more formed 
 in order of battle on the Puerto of Echallar. with Clausel's diminished 
 corps in advance on a contiguous height. But that stand gave but a 
 breathing-time. Two British divisions were already pushed on to 
 re-occupy Roncesvalles and Alduides — Byng was at Urdax, Hill on 
 the Col dc Maya — and the liglit, fourth, and seventh divisions in hand, 
 and ready to fall on. 
 
 The affairs which followed were very singular, and mark the moral 
 effect whicli success and disaster exercise upon the best soldiers in their 
 turn. The light division was pointed on Santa Barbara to turn the 
 right of the enemy, the fourth were desired to make a front attack by 
 Echallar, and the seventh moved from Sumbilla to operate against 
 Soult's left. Outmarching the supporting columns, Barnes's brigade. 
 l)oldly assailed the strong ridges occui)ied by Clausel's division ; and, 
 with a daring courage worthy of the good fortune which crowned il, 
 
374 THE FORTUNES CF 
 
 actually drove from its mountain-position a corps of four-fold numbers 
 to his own. It is true that Clausel's troops Iiad been beaten, over- 
 marched, and dispirited. Already they had been thrice bloodily 
 defeated ; but that six thousand tried and gallant soldiers should be 
 forced from a rugged height b}' a brigade not exceeding sixteen 
 hundred bayonets, is an anomaly in war which seems dithcidt to 
 resolve to common causes. 
 
 The last atfsur was that of Ivantclly. On that strong mountain the 
 French rear-guard had taken its stand, and although evening had set 
 in, the soldiers fasted two daj's, and a mist obscured the heights, the 
 light troops mounted the rugged front and drove the enemy from that, 
 the last ridge, which, in the course of nine days' operations, had 
 been assailed or defended. 
 
 In the course of those sanguinary and continued combats, known by 
 the general designation of the Battles of the Pyrenees, the Allies lost 
 seven thousand hors de combat. The French casualties wei-e infiniteh^ 
 greater ; and a moderate estimate, framed from the most impartial 
 statements, raises it to the fatal amount of fifteen thousand men. 
 
 It was with feelings of unqualified delight I listened to Cammaran's 
 doleful admission that Soult was over the Bidassao, and the battering 
 guns, which, under an alarm, had been embarked at Passages, had been 
 again re-landed, and the siege was to commence again. Sufficient 
 proof of this intention was quickly manifested, for the trenches were 
 repaired, San Bartolomeo armed anew, and the convent of Antigua 
 furnished with heavy guns to sweep the beach and bay, if necessary. 
 
 Whatever might have been the feelings of the governor and his 
 garrison when the tidings of Soult's failure were confirmed, still, like 
 gallant soldiers, they showed no lack of confidence in themselves, but 
 redoubled their exertions to increase all the means within their power 
 of defence, and repel the second assault as effectually as they had 
 repulsed the former one. On the anniversary of the Emperor's birth, 
 the inhabitants of the city and the troops who invested it, were ap- 
 prised of the event by frequent salvos of artillery ; and when night 
 came, the castle exhibited a splendid illumination, surmounted by a 
 brilliant legend, " Vir.e Napoleon le grand T \isible distinctly at 
 the distance of a league. 
 
 On the 1 9th, the long-expected siege-train arrived from England, 
 and on the 22nd, fifteen heavy guns were placed in battery. On the 
 23rd another train was landed. On the 2oth all the batteries were 
 armed and reported ready to commence their fire ; and on the 26th 
 fifty-seven pieces opened with a thundering crash, and in one un- 
 abated roar played on the devoted city, until darkness rendered the 
 practice uncertain and ended this deafening cannonade. 
 
 The result of the siege was what might have been anticipated, when 
 "Wellington, with adequate means, had issued his order that the place 
 should fall. On the morning of the 31st the assault was delivered, 
 and after a long, bloody, and doubtful struggle, the fortress was 
 carried. 
 
 Would that with the fall of that well-defended city the sad detail of 
 " siege and slaughter" closed ! " At Ciudad Rodrigo intoxication 
 
HECTOR o'ilALLORAX. 375 
 
 and plunder had been the principal object ; at Badajoz, lust and 
 murder were joined to rapine and drunkenness ; but at San Sebastian 
 the direst, the most revolting cruelty was added to the catalogue of 
 crimes."* Thank God I from witnessing that horrid scene, the fosterer 
 and I were exempted. In accordance with Mark Antony's advice, I 
 had determined to give General Key " leg-hail ;" and on the night of 
 the 27th, Dame Fortune behaving towards us like a real gentlewoman, 
 we contrived to get clear of . San Sebastian before our friends the 
 besiegers could manage to get in. 
 
 But that event, in tliis my hui-ried but " eventful history," requires 
 another chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 A NOCTLKNAL ADVENTURE, AND PREPARATIONS FOR ESCAPE. 
 
 " Arthur. Mercy on me ! 
 
 Methinks, nobody should be sad but I ; 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 * * * By my Christendom, 
 So I were out of prison, and kept sheep, 
 I "STOuld be as merry as the day is long." 
 
 IvLNG John. 
 
 Nearly a month had passed — a month of dreary captivity. It is 
 true there was not a prisoner within the walls of San Sebastian who 
 had less reason to complain, but stiU I felt myself a prisoner. Cam- 
 maran, as far as means allowed, anticipated every want. I was under 
 no surveUlunce — the city vras open to me — I wandered where I pleased 
 — and every sentry I passed saluted me. The voltigeur was a general 
 favourite, — the story of his deliverance had been told in the garrison, 
 and even with more romance than had attended it ; and every French 
 soldier we passed pointed out the fosterer and myself as the preservers 
 of a gallant comrade. If we met a group of officers, the moniteur, the 
 cigar-case, or the snulF-box were hospitably presented to me ; and 
 could Mark Antony have drank " pottle deep," he had only to turn 
 into a Fi'ench guard-house, and every flask it contained would have 
 been placed at his disposal. 
 
 Such were my relations with the enemy ; but the bearing of my 
 host was sometimes hard to understand. It was professedly kind ; 
 but the manner was forced, and repulsive. Ilis habits were retired — 
 no overture to intimacy had been made — beyond the detached portion 
 of his mansion where I had been located at the first, the rest of his 
 domicile was to me a term incognita. Of his establishment I had 
 never seen but two — a particularly dark-visaged youth, with a cut- 
 throat cast of countenance, and a woman of seventy who was deaf, 
 or pretended to be deaf. StiD, our wants were carefully attended to, 
 
 , * Napier. 
 
376 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 and at times Senlior Francisco asketl after my health in a tone of voice 
 tliat would lead a person to imagine the man was sincere in the inquiry. 
 
 " Ujion my conscience," observed the fosterer, as he presented him- 
 self one morning at my bed-side, " I have a fancy this house isn't over 
 good. If bansliees played upon the fiddle, I would swear that I heard 
 <)ne these three last nights in the garden that we see behind the window 
 of my room. Arrah — do you think the place was formerly a mad- 
 house ? i^xcept Newgate — and, blessed be God, I can onl}^ spake of it 
 from description, the devil a such a place for locks and bolts I was ever 
 in before. Has the ould gentleman, do 3'e think, much money ? Every 
 window barred up like a watchhouse — but they would require, for all 
 that, to be looked over, for I have managed to remove two of mine, — 
 and if I live till to-night, I'll have a walk in the garden." 
 
 " No — no — Mark ; that will never do. We must not intrude ujion 
 Don Francisco. He may have some secret to conceal." 
 
 *' Troth ! and ye'r right," returned the fosterer. " May be he has 
 a private still at work, or does a little in the coining. But, faith, no 
 matter — I'll have a peep to-night. But if he's forging notes, or 
 making bad dollars, what can he want with the music ?" 
 
 " Music ! " I repeated. 
 
 " Yes ; I h£ar a guitar every night, and two nights ago saw some- 
 thing very like a ghost — " 
 
 " Or rather very like your grandmother " — and I burst into a loud 
 laugh. 
 
 " Oh — I knew you would make fun of me. Well — no matter. She 
 was the height of Serjeant Antony, and he's six-feet-six without his 
 shoes — and as white as your own shirt — not, in truth, that that's 
 anything remarkable, for worse washerwomen than we meet with 
 here you could hardly find if you were on the look-ont for a fortnight. 
 But there's no use in talking. There's a tall white woman parades 
 the garden ; and if I live till the old Don is fast asleep, I'll be through 
 the Avindow, if I break my neck." 
 
 I confess, that although I coidd not listen without a smile, to Mark 
 Antony's description of the lady -like spectre that honoured the garden 
 with her presence, and then and there discoursed "most eloquent music;" 
 I felt, notwithstanding, a more than common curiosity on the subject, — 
 and while I reprobated the fosterer's removal of the bars which obstructed 
 his communication with the spot she haunted, as an act but slightly 
 removed from burglary itself, still my scruples were easily overcome 
 when he proposed that I should keep watch with him that night. The 
 retreat was beaten in the fortress — supper-hour came — the host, as 
 usual, presented himself, to make inquiiy whether aught was wanted 
 that had not been already provided — and then, after Avishing us " Good 
 night," we saw him secure his gate, and retire to that portion of his 
 premises, from which, with all the jealous reserve observed in an 
 Eastern harem, we had been, as we were pleased to call it, inhospitably 
 excluded. 
 
 " Well," said Mark Antony, " I suppose the man intends to be 
 civil, but he has the quarest way of showing it. Although it's his own 
 wine we're drinking, the divil a drop lie would ever take in company. 
 
HECTOR O IIALLORAN. 377 
 
 Give me that Empeoinado, after all ! God forgive me ! I did'nt value 
 him at the time, as I should have done. What, though he had an oif- 
 haiid way of shooting Frenchmen and hanging justices of the peace, 
 the moment the job was over he was as pleasant a gentleman as ever 
 stretched a boot vuuler mahogany. But as to this dark-looking divil — 
 why, we're here well on to a month, and he was never the person to 
 say, ' Mister O'Toole, have ye a mouth upon ye ?' " 
 
 An hour passed — we finished a second flask of the surly Spaniard's 
 montilano — and the fosterer proposed, that while we apparently retired 
 for the night we should extinguish the lamps, and then commence 
 our vigil. 
 
 It was accordingly done — and, gliding into Mark Antony's dormi- 
 tory, w'e began our " watch and ward." 
 
 An unbroken stillness permitted the slightest sound to be heard 
 distinctly ; and we therefore conversed in whispers. The contrast that 
 night in San Sebastian presented to the day, was singularly imposing. 
 The deafening roar of the allied batteries had ceased, and the city was 
 wrapt in a calm but ominous tranquillity. Too distant from the 
 breaches, we did not hear the working-parties, who sedulously em- 
 ployed the hours of darkness in erecting new defences, and restoring 
 others which the daily fire of the besiegers had destroyed. Another 
 hour passed — no guitar was heard — no sprite " wicked or charitable," 
 flitted past the casement. We heard the reliefs go round — the sentries 
 changed — and all again was silent. 
 
 " All — Mark 1 — ^^lark I " I whispered in the fosterer's ear — " The 
 senhor's montilano has been uppermost in your brain, I fancy, on 
 these same nights when this musical apparition was afoot. Are you 
 sure that your imaginary guitar was anything but wind whistling 
 tlirough the window ? " 
 
 " By all the crosses in a highlandman's kilt, the music I heard," 
 returned the fosterer ; " but whether it was a guitar or a fiddle I'll 
 not take on me to swear. Stop — hush I — Holy Mary 1 K that's not 
 music, the divU an ear has Mark Antony ! " 
 
 The fosterer was right. It was the distant tinkle of a stringed 
 instrument — and at times I fancied that I heard voices talking in 
 suppressed tones, and in the direction of that part of the building 
 which Senhor La Pablos had reserved so exclusively to himself. 
 
 " Now, Hector," said the fosterer, " maybe you'll call me drunk 
 after this ? What's to be done ? 'Pon my conscience, I think Mister 
 Pablos is anything but neighbourly, with his tea-party every evening, 
 and not say to people who have done him the honour to take up their 
 quarters in his house, ' Mr. O'Halloran, will you, and that young 
 gentleman along with you, meaning myself, step over, in the family 
 way, and take share of what we have ?" 
 
 "Why, then, upon my soul, I think it is, Mark !" was my reply. 
 
 " Then I may as well take the loose bars out ?" said the fosterer, 
 suiting the action to the word— and before I could put in a feeble remon- 
 strance, he estabhshed an aperture in tlie casement, through which anyone 
 of slighter dimensions than a common-councilman could easily slip out. 
 
 " Hush ! — the guitar again ! " 
 
378 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " Ay — and by Saint Patrick ! some company to listen to it ! — Oh I 
 the divil a one of me will remain longer without having a peep at the 
 party, if I can," — And as he spoke, the fosterer popped through the 
 casement, and — I lament to make the confession — next moment I was 
 after him. 
 
 We found ourselves in a small garden thickly planted with shrubs 
 and fruit-trees, and encompassed by a lofty wall ; several narrow 
 walks intersected it, and the termination of one was bounded by a 
 wing of the Spaniard's domicile. Through a chink in the shutters, a 
 stream of light escaped ; and thither the fosterer moved silently, I 
 bringing up the rear. 
 
 There was no doubt that from this apartment the voices and the 
 music had proceeded which we heard in the fosterer's dormitory. T 
 peeped in. A party was grouped about a table covered with game, 
 fruit, and wine — and a lamp, suspended from the centre of the ceiling, 
 enabled us to examine the company. 
 
 Five men were seated round the board, which was also graced by 
 the presence of two personages of the softer sex. I never saw a party 
 collected at a sujiper table whose appearances and pursuits Avere 
 evidently so opposite. A burl}' monk sat directly in front of the 
 treacherous fissure in the windovr-shutter. He was of no ascetic 
 order ; but a Christian man, on whom good fare was not thrown 
 away ; and, even if the lamp went out by accident, one on whose 
 honour you could place reliance, and drink with in the dark. Two 
 others of the party wore the costume, and had the general 'air, of 
 Spanish traders. The fourth Avas a man of wild and formidable ex- 
 terior ; his arms, his dress, his bearing, all betrayed that his was no 
 peaceable profession — and Mark Antony hinted, in a whisper, "that if 
 the Empecinado had a brother in the world the dark gentleman with 
 the pistols was the person, and no mistake." The fifth was an 
 English seaman — at least his costume and carriage would infer it. 
 He seemed a fine athletic man, and, though his back was turned to the 
 casement, the fosterer observed in an under-tone, that the sailor would 
 thrash the company collectively. 
 
 In years and appearance the females were still more dissimilar than 
 the men. One well advanjced in life was tall, slight, deeply pock- 
 marked, and generally forbidding. The other — she sate beside the 
 priest — had scarcely numbered twenty summers, and on a lovelier face, 
 a finer form, the eyes of two interloping Irishmen never peeped through 
 a split in a window-shutter. "Och ! murder!" ejaculated Mark 
 Antony, sotto voce — " That's the Ghost — and is'nt she a darling ?" 
 
 One seat was unoccupied. To whom did it appertain ? Our host, 
 no doubt, and wherefore was he absent ? 
 
 "What an ould troublesome thief he is !" whispered Mark Antony, 
 pointing to the vacant chair. " Where the divil do ye think he's 
 scouting to ? when every body's asleep or better employed, as they are 
 within. I only wish that we were of the company — Isn't it a comfort 
 to see his reverence set such an elegant example? How beautifully 
 he raises his elbow — that's wliat I call honour bright I No sky-lights, 
 and he fills to the top every time the bottle passes him." 
 
-M 
 
U2^ 
 
 .-//y /'/<•///,'/, "y, 
 
 ,'/,-^y:/ /? '^^K/u^:a^/l^■'^■^■^■ 
 
HECTOR o'lIALLORAN. 379 
 
 " Husli ! I thought I heard something move behind us." ' 
 " Well, upon my soul, I fancied, myself, that 1 heard a rustle in the 
 bushes," returned the fosterer — " If old surly is on the ramble, and 
 drop upon us unawares, what a pretty figure we should cut !" 
 
 " Come, Mark, let us return to our old quarters ; we risk the un- 
 pleasant consequences attendant on discovery, without any object to 
 be found — " 
 
 " See — the sailor rises I — and the sooner we're off the better. May 
 God bless that pretty fuce of her's — if I could not stop here all night 
 to look at it ; but, come along." 
 
 We retired as quietly as we had advanced— the fosterer leading the 
 retreat. No sound occasioned alarm— no ghost of Patagonian pro- 
 portions crossed our path. We reached the lattice through which we 
 had invaded Don Francisco's garden. Mark Antony pepped his head 
 and shoulders through the aperture; but never did a man withdraw 
 both more rapidly. A dark-visaged Spaniard pointed a pistol from 
 within, while, without, a person inunediately at our elbow, in a low, 
 but peremptory voice, ordered us "to stand." The tones were per- 
 fectly familiar ; indeed, there was no doubt touching the identity 
 of the speaker, for Senhor La Pablos stepped frpm behind one of 
 the thick shrubs. 
 
 '• So, gentlemen," he commenced, while eveiy word came hissing 
 ironically from between his teeth — " Methought it was only English- 
 men who were forced upon my unwilling hospitality. I was mistaken, 
 it would seem, and appearances lavoured the deception. I believed 
 my house ; was occupied by men of honour ; but I have harboured 
 French spies, it would appear." 
 
 " Oh— stop— Mister Pablos, if you plase," exclaimed the fosterer, 
 " divil a bigger mistake ye ever made in yer life. Arrah — what pvxts 
 that into yer head ?" 
 
 "I judge men not by their assertions, but their acts," returned the 
 Spaniard coldly — 
 
 " Senhor," I said, addressing the angry host, " you certainly have 
 reason to question the motives of our midnight intrusion; but I de- 
 clare, upon the honour of a British officer, it Avas entirely a silly 
 trespass— one that I cannot justify, but one from which, towards you, 
 no mischief was designed. Let it be overlooked, and I promise, 
 that while we remain beneath your roof, we will confine ourselves to 
 whatever portion of your premises it may be your pleasure to restram 
 us." 
 
 '■ Captain O'Halloran," returned the Spaniard, coldly, " whatever 
 your intentions may have been, your (conduct warrants me to draw 
 very different conclusions than the motives you have been pleased to 
 assign. The safety of myself— my family — those who are connected 
 with me — all retiuire mc to guard against treachery. True, it has 
 rarely come concealed beneath an English uniform — and, I am half 
 persuaded, you harboured no evil against me and mine; but you came 
 here under a suspicious introduction. I am a devoted man, and now 
 completely in your power. You have seen too much — and yet too 
 little. Li one "brief sentence I speak your doom — a stern necessity 
 
380 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 compels me to be severe — cruel — if it please ye better. One course 
 iilone renijiins to be pursued; I must secure myself, my friends, my 
 wife." 
 
 " That's her I took for the ghost," said the fosterer, apart — " and 
 the divil a foot I would have put into the garden but for tlie same 
 lady." 
 
 " IIusli ! Proceed, sir," I answered. 
 
 " Nothing can make us safe, but death or deportation. Walk with 
 me, sirs. 'Twere idle to remonstrate here, or to refuse obedience to 
 my order" — and, with the perfect confidence that he had made no 
 statement which he could not effectually support, the Spaniard stalked 
 on, and the fosterer and I followed. 
 
 " Well — Mr. O'Toole," I said, as, like two convicted culprits, we 
 sullenly retraced our steps. "A pretty kettle of fish you have made 
 ofit !" 
 
 "Oh!" — groaned the fosterer — " the game's up. The curse of 
 Cromwell light upon the country ! Is'nt it hard that a man can't slip 
 out of a window to take a little air without having his throat cut ?" 
 
 As he spoke we reached the extremity of the garden. La Pablos 
 unclosed a door. We entered the same chamber where, two or three 
 minutes since, we had Avitnessed a scene of social comfort. There the 
 remnant of the supper stood — but the company were gone, and their 
 places had been filled by personages of a very different, and a very 
 dangerous exterior. 
 
 It was hard to define their appearance. Their garb Avas that of 
 mariners ; in all besides, they looked banditti. My impression w\as 
 not singular, — for the fosterer, in a whisper, declared that, " compared 
 Avith these villains, the guerillas were regular gentlemen." All Avei-e 
 armed — and I should say, there was not a member of this respectable 
 community, who, like Friar Tuck, Avould hesitate on resorting to the 
 " carnal weapon," were it needed. 
 
 Our trial was shorter, even, than a drum-head court martial. Senhor 
 Francisco stated the offence, and then simply inquired what the safety 
 of the commonwealth demanded. The twelve judges were never so 
 unanimous. In the multitude of counsellors there was but one opinion 
 — and that, though differently expressed, resolved itself into one pithy 
 adage, namely — that " dead men tell no tales." 
 
 From the apparent character of those around me, I certainly con- 
 sidered that I should be defunct to a moral before morning ; but 
 Mark Antony boldly demurred to the sentence : and put forward 
 the reasons Avhy death and execution should be stayed ; but as the 
 fosterer's plea involved a confused story about ghosts and music, 
 I question whether it woidd have carried an overwhelming conviction 
 of our innocence to the dread tribunal before whom Ave stood. As 
 it turned out, however, we Avere not on the verge of death, but, happily, 
 on the eve of deliverance — and in a brief sjjace, the colour of our 
 fortunes changed. 
 
 While the senhor was listening, and with marked incredulity, to the 
 fosterer's defence, a noise was heard without, and the personage who 
 bore the appearance of an English seaman, but who, from his position 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 381 
 
 at the table had eluded our former espionage, burst suddenly into the 
 apartment. 
 
 " What the devil is all this I hear about spies, and land-loupers ?" 
 he exclaimed. " Are these the chaps ? — Egad — this here one," and 
 he pointed to me, "looks too honest to play traitor. But, what ! — 
 Do my eyes deceive me ? — Why, dash my buttons — it can't be pos- 
 sible — but it is — an old messmate by Heaven ! AVhat, Mark — am 
 I so changed, that William Eawlings is forgotten ?" 
 
 It was indeed the brother of the fosterer's mistress ; and the next 
 moment, like Homer's heroes, their hands were locked together, and 
 the pleasure of an unexpected meeting, was expressed in sea parlance 
 on the one part, and an eloquent admixture of English and Irish on the 
 other, which must have been perfectly unintelligible to the auditory, as 
 I could but partially comprehend it. 
 
 With the host, a brief conversation put matters in excellent train. 
 As regarded felonious designs, we received an honourable acquittal ; 
 and better far, the welcome assurance was made, that before two suns 
 rose, if luck were on our side, we should be clear of the fortress and 
 fi'ee as the ocean-bird itself. 
 
 We returned to our own apartments, accompanied by William 
 Eawlings. The senhor was full of mystery and business ; and, I pre- 
 sume, the gentlemen of the spado school were equally engaged ; and, 
 consequently, from the sailor we learned the particulars not only of 
 our host's domestic relations, but, what was of more importance, the 
 means and the probability of effecting an immediate escape. 
 
 Senhor La Pablos, it appeared, was a contrabandista, and did business 
 on a most extensive scale. His principles were neither considered 
 particularly nice, nor was he a patriot of the purest water ; albeit, 
 he hated the French with an intensity which Dr. Johnson himself 
 would have admired. The senhor's antipathy to the invaders, arose 
 rather from private than from public considerations. He had acquii'ed 
 much wealth as honestly as smugglers generally do, and, year after 
 year, the invading commanders laid him under heavy contributions, 
 and obliged him to disgorge extensively. Senhor La Pablos had also 
 been blessed with a very young and a very pretty help-mate ; and on 
 a short excursion to the frontier in the course of business, on his 
 return he received the unwelcome intelligence that the lady of his love 
 had levanted the second day after he had bidden her a tender, but 
 as he, " good easy man," believed, only a temporary adieu. He 
 had replaced her loss as speedily as it could be effected — and as 
 the successor of the lost one was equally fair, and might prove, 
 "alas! for womankind" equally frail, he secluded her as much 
 as possible from common gaze ; and, certainly, he had never in- 
 tended that we, during our brief sojourn in his hospitable mansion, 
 should have been introduced to the family circle. " But now for 
 more important matters," said the sailor ; " it would waste time to 
 tell you by wliat course of events I got connected with these con- 
 trabandistas, and sliut up for the last month in this confounded for- 
 tress. I think escape tolerably secure — but could we but command one 
 hundred dollars, it Avere certain. These Spanish smugglers are cold, 
 
382 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 ralculating scoundrels — every movement is made for a mercenary 
 object — but if they receive the consideration for their services, they are 
 proverbially faithful, even to death itself, in a punctual performance of 
 what they have undertaken." 
 
 " How unfortunate !" I exclaimed. " Thrice the sum required is 
 lying with my baggage outside, and all I am at present master of 
 is this valueless ring, and a holy keepsake from my lady mother. 
 "Would your friends, llawlings, deal in relics of marvellous value ? for 
 I doubt not that this I bear upon me is such." 
 
 The sailor smiled. 
 
 " They are true Catholics, I have no doubt ; but I fancy they would 
 prefer plain silver after all." 
 
 " Blessed Mary ! " said the fosterer, " I wonder where the old lady 
 got this charm," for I had drawn my mother's amulet from my 
 bosom. " She told you," he continued, " never to open it." 
 
 " Oh, no, JMark, I was directed when necessity pressed me, to use 
 a free discretion." 
 
 " Why, then," returned the fostei'er, " we will never be in a 
 greater mess, Mark. Open it. Hector, dear ! Not that I believe in 
 charms, although I remember an old man at home that would cure 
 cows wlien they were fairly given over by the smith." 
 
 " Well, Mark, your curiosity shall be gratified." I opened the 
 silken envelope, unfolded a sealed paper— no relic was there — but, 
 what answered our present necessities far better — an English bank 
 note for fifty pounds. 
 
 '•Ah — long life to her ladyship! — wasn't she considerate?" ex- 
 claimed Mark Antony. " Talk of relics — isn't that a beautiful one !" 
 
 " But will it answer our purposes, Rawlings?" I inquired. 
 
 " Senhor La Pablos would tell you not ; but you will see how soon 
 he will discover more dollars than we require, and take his chance. 
 But no time must be lost — 'tis past midnight ; — and within three hours 
 we must succeed or fail. Get ready. When the time comes for the 
 trial, minutes may crown or mar it," he said — left us to ourselves : — 
 and while the fosterer made up a change of linen, I sate down, and 
 conveyed, my parting adieus to my friend the voltigeur. 
 
 Rawlings was not long away. He returned, having completed every 
 arrangement, as he said, — and the following night was named as that 
 on which we should make the attempt that would ensure our liberty, 
 or rivet our fetters if we failed. The fosterer and I retired, but not to 
 sleep ; and we were early afoot, and waiting for some more intelligence 
 from the honest sailor regarding our nocturnal enterprise, when the 
 captain of voltigeurs, as was his custom, dropped in to make his 
 morning inquiries. 
 
 " Am I to congratulate or 'condole ?," said Captain Cammaran, 
 when he made his morning call. " You are pronounced fit for 
 service by the surgeon ; my parole consequently has expired — and no 
 doubt you will be required in a day or two to interchange it for your 
 own." 
 
 " I won't give it," I returned. 
 
 ^'You are wrong, my friend," replied the voltigeur: "nothing 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN. 383 
 
 can result from your refusal but personal annoyance. You will be 
 sent into La Mota, and, I regret to say, there the prisoners arc 
 miserably inconvenienced. Think of it well, O'Halloran ; escape from 
 the fortress is neaidy hopeless ; why, then, add to the desarjremens of 
 captivity ? Coui'age I — an application has already been made in your 
 favour : why not, at least, wait patiently until an answer is returned 
 by the minister of war ? " 
 
 " My dear Cammaran," I replied, " the reasons why I should not 
 be patient are manifold. In the first place, I am in love, and wish to 
 return home ; in the second place, I am sick of San Sebastian, and 
 very weary of contemplating the surly features of my host Senhor La 
 Pablos, agreeably diversified, it is true, with an occasional visit from 
 an old Leonora, deaf as a door-post, and the attentions of an interesting 
 male attendant, who, if he be not hanged within a twelvementh, why 
 I'll forswear physiognomy for ever." 
 
 " Oh ! indeed, and you'll have no occasion," observed Mark Antony: 
 " the gallows is written in his face, and, as they say in Connaught, 
 — Master Pedro is sure ' to spoil a market.' " 
 
 " Bah ! my good friend, I have a remedy for all," returned Cam- 
 maran ; " one poison neutralizes another — you must find another 
 mistress : and if you are tired of your quarters, why we can look out 
 for others which may prove more agreeable." 
 
 I shook my head. 
 
 " Well — well — don't refuse rashly. Tell them you will consider it 
 for a day or two — and trust to the soldier's best dependence, — you call 
 it, happily, in English, — ' the chapter of accidents.' Farewell ! — I will 
 call early to-morrow." 
 
 " And the birds will be flown," added the fosterer, as Cammaran 
 closed the door and bade us, as we then believed, '• a last good 
 morrow." 
 
 I never felt so impatiently as on that last day when I remained a 
 prisoner in San Sebastian. The sun went gloomily to the ocean, the 
 sea began to rise and break upon the beach, and with the evening as it 
 closed, the weather became worse, and a very skyey appearance heralded 
 a coming storm. Darkness came — the lamps were lighted — the ill- 
 favoured attendant laid supper on the table, uncorked a flask of wine, 
 and, as he always did, vanished without making a remai'k. 
 
 " I never will have anything but a poor opinion of that Senhor 
 Pablos," observed the fosterer ; " he's an inhospitable divil, or on the 
 last night he had the honour of entertaining two gentlemen, he would 
 have had the common manners to have introduced them to his wife, and 
 taken a dockandurru with them afterwards. No matter — here's luck ! 
 — and who knows where we'll drink the same toast to-morrow evening?" 
 
 " It were, indeed, diflicult to say, Mark. But, hark ! — footsteps 
 are in the court-yard. 'Tis unusual. But, see ! — the door opens. 
 Is it possible ? Why, Cammaran ! This is a late hour for a visit." 
 
 " It is," said the voltigeur; " but I have a presentiment that you 
 and I are about to part." 
 
 I felt the blood mount to my cheeks. Were then our plans known, 
 and cur intended escape discovered ? 
 
384 HECTOR O HALLORAN. 
 
 '•' What mean ye, my friend ?" I returned, assuming an air of in- 
 difference. " No, no," I continued evasively. " Warmly as, through 
 your kindness, I may have been recommended to the War-Minister's 
 consideration, I must not hope the application Avill prove successful." 
 
 " You mistake me. It is anotlier chance that probably may end 
 our acquaintance. I am on duty to-night." 
 
 " And so are we," observed the fosterer, in L-ish. 
 
 " The lact is, we are going to try a sortie. The general has most 
 handsomely put the detachment under my command. If I succeed, 
 I shall gain promotion — and if Fortune favour me, I'll sweep your 
 works extensively before I re-enter the fortress. Well, these things 
 are not effected without broken heads — and I have come to have a 
 parting glass with two friends I estimate so dearly." 
 
 The occasion of the visit relieved me from desperate alarm. Tlie 
 Frenchman sate for an hour and then took his leave, to make the 
 necessary arrangements for the intended sortie, which was ordered 
 to commence at two o'clock. 
 
 Before the voltigeur had cleared the court -yard, Rawlings, attended 
 by La Pablos, presented themselves by a private door which communi- 
 cated with the garden. The sailor's looks told that affairs went 
 prosperously. 
 
 " All is ready for our attempt. The French sally before day- 
 Ijreak — and in the noise and confusion on the land-side, we shall be 
 enabled to lower ourselves from the curtain, and gain the beach. All 
 depends upon ourselves — and for the fidelity of our associates, Senhor 
 La Pablos holds himself responsible. You must shift your rigging, 
 however — and here come your traps." 
 
 The ill-visaged attendant brought me two suits of clothes of such 
 anomalous cut and composition, as left it impossible to say for which 
 element they had been especially intended. The host and sailor drank 
 to the success of the expedition— the bell from the tower ,of San 
 Sebastian beat twelve— the fosterer told each stroke — and then put 
 up a pious supplication to Heaven, that this might be the last time he 
 would ever count the same! 
 
HECTOR OlIALLORAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 ESCAPE FROM SAN SEBASTIAN, AND RETl'RN TO ENGLAND. 
 
 " A sad miscalculiticn about distance 
 Made all their naval matters incorrect." 
 
 Don Juan'. 
 
 : " She look'd as if she sate at Eden's door. 
 
 And griev'd for those who could return no more."' 
 
 1 1 ID. 
 
 The fosterer and I lost no time in making a hasty toilet — and ii> 
 live minutes our outer men liad assumed as ruffianly an appearance as 
 that of any contrahandista in Biscay. The tower clock of the cathedral 
 struck two; and I remembered that Cammaran had mentioned that 
 this would be the hour on which the garrison would sally. Excepting 
 the hollow moaning of the wind, and the occasional drifting of the 
 rain against the casements, all around was still ; and, dark as the night 
 Avas, I remained gazing at the court-yard expecting the appearance of 
 llawlings and his associates, with all the intensity of hope and fear 
 which a man will feel, when on the eve of an attempt that will achieve 
 Iiis liberty at once, or rivet his chains more closely than before. All 
 was quiet — no ghost appeared — no tinkle of " the light guitar " was 
 audible — when, suddenly, a dull discharge was heard from La Mota, 
 and a shell, bursting over the bay, " gave signal dread of dire debate," 
 and announced that the sortie was being made. 
 
 "Within ten minutes the din of war "disturbed the night's propriety.'' 
 The guns of .San Sebastian opened, the Chcfre batteries thunderecT 
 their reply, while a heavy fusilade on the isthmus, pointed to the 
 j)lace where the besieged and the besiegers were fiercely fighting ; and 
 where, for a doubtful result, death or distinction, Cammaran played 
 the desperate game a soldier ventures. The fire went rolling forward, 
 therefore, the French gained ground, and so far the surprise had 
 been successful. At the moment a hand touched my shoulder — a 
 voice whispered that "all was ready;" I turned — the speaker was 
 William Rawlings. 
 
 Had I stood upon ceremony, and wished to bid Senlior La Pablo, and 
 that comely dame, his lady, " a fair good night," neither of the parties 
 allowed the opportunity ; consequently, I descended at once to the 
 court-vard, and there found two ill-favoured gentlemen in attendance, 
 and, under their guidance, we proceeded to eftect — or at least attempt 
 — our deliverance. 
 
 The effort was admirably timed. The sally of the besiegers had 
 been checked, repelled, repulsed ; and tlie spattering fire wliich had 
 hitherto rolled steadily forward across the suburb of San Roman, now 
 rapidly receded, while, from the trenches, the fusilade became every 
 moment more heavy and more sustained. 
 
 c c 
 
386 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 On quitting the court-yard of La Pablos, we made a sudden turningy 
 entered a dark lane, and found two men in waiting. A few short 
 sentences were interchanged in low whispers, and we proceeded 
 under the guidance of one who seemed to have undertaken to pioneer 
 the party. The firing every moment became more violent ; and, as 
 the scene of strife was on the laud-side, the attention of the sentries 
 stationed on the defences next the bay was misdirected. "We gained 
 the centre of a curtain connecting two bastions, unperceived ; and, 
 by means prepared already for effecting a descent, glided down the 
 wall unchallenged, and reached the beach in safety. 
 
 So far " the work went bravely on ;" but the most hazardous part 
 of the feat was yet to be performed. Although my poor mother's 
 secret treasure had been required by the contrahaiidistas — according 
 to their story to pay for the hire of a chasse-maree, as Jack Falstaff 
 kept " his charge of foot " in light marching order, properly con- 
 sidering that linen was to be found on every hedge, so, our naval 
 contractors prudently declined " taking up a vessel" especially for our 
 ti'anspoi't, when one might as easily be borrowed without troubling 
 the proprietor to become a consenting party to the loan. This 
 arrangement was made known to Rawlings and myself, for the first 
 time, when we had actually reached the water : but the Biscayan 
 assured us that nearly a ^dozen chasse-marees were anchored at a 
 stone's cast from the shore, and beside us there was a small fishing- 
 boat, ready for the launching ; we had only to row quietly out, slip into 
 the first vessel we could find, take a peaceable possession, if allowed, and 
 if not, forcibly eject the owners for want of civility ; " cut our lucky" 
 and their cable by the same operation, and then stand boldly out to sea» 
 
 " Why, honest Jose," observed the sailor to the leader of the 
 smugglers, '^ it appears that we are to pay for our deliverance first, 
 and fight for it afterwards." 
 
 The person addressed returned an evasive anSAver. 
 
 " Well, no matter — it seems the business must be done," continued 
 Rawlings, " and the sooner we go about it the better. Lend a handy 
 lads — Softly with the launch ! we may be nearer our intended prize 
 than we imagine. How fast the wind rises ! L^pon my soul, on a 
 darker night or more unpromising weather, men never went on a 
 cutting-out party." 
 
 In another minute the fisher's boat was in the water, and we 
 embarked. It was one of those small skiffs in which women are 
 frequently seen fishing on the eastern coast, and hence, we were 
 crowded so closely as to render the least movement dangerous, the 
 Avater reaching to the w^ash-streali of the boat. As the wind was dead 
 off the beach we had no occasion to use our oars for any purpose but 
 to direct our course, and out we went, drifting in the dark, and upon 
 what the fosterer termed " the devil's expedition." " What," he 
 remarked, " was swimming the Sedana to this ? Everybody knew that 
 a river had a bank ; but here, the first land we would touch on might 
 be Achil Head or Gibraltar — and he, Mark Antony, would be glad 
 to know what was provided in the eating-and-di'inking line for this 
 voyage of discovery ?" 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 387 
 
 But these speculations as to our final destination were speedily 
 interrupted, for WiUiam Rawlings' practised eye had caught the dim 
 outline of two or three small craft i-iding at anchor. Silence was 
 rigidly enjoined, and the Englishman steei'ed the skiff upon the centre 
 cliasse-maree, and desired us, in a whisper, to boai-d the moment the 
 boat's gunnel scraped the vessel's side. 
 
 It was quite evident that we were not to be so fortunate as to effect 
 a capture by surprise. The heavy firing of the cannonade and mus- 
 quetry, attendant on the sortie, had roused the crews, whom w-e heard 
 distinctly conversing from deck to deck, as our boat neared their 
 anchorage. Fortunately, from the extreme darkness, and the dimi- 
 nutive dimensions of the skiff, we were within an oai*'s length of 
 the ckasse-tnarees before we were discovered. To a hasty challenge, 
 a contrabandista replied that we were friends — an assertion on his 
 part, which subsequent experience proved much at variance with our 
 proceedings. 
 
 The lowness of her deck allowed us to board the coaster without 
 trouble, and a short, scuffling fight ensued which was over in a minute. 
 Although more numerous by half, the surprise of this nightly visita- 
 tion distracted the Frenchmen, and they made but a feeble stand. 
 One was flung overboai'd by a smuggler, an example promptly imitated 
 by the fosterer, who took the same liberty with the person of the 
 skipper — while three or four took the water of their own accord. Raw- 
 lings cut the cable — the jib was instantly run up — the vessel canted 
 with her head to sea — he fore lug was set next minute — and, before 
 the astonished crews could pei'suade themselves that their consort 
 was reguliu'ly carried off, we Avere beyond the reach of the few muskets 
 which they managed to get hold of in the confusion. 
 
 A brief consultation followed our success ; and it was agreed that 
 we should stand right out to sea, to avoid meeting with any of the 
 French privateers who were creeping along the coast occasionally, 
 and also afford us a fair chance of falling in with one of our own 
 cruisers. 
 
 When morning broke, we had gained an ofRng of nearly twenty 
 miles. The fire of the Chofre batteries had recommenced with day- 
 light ; but a smoke-wreath, now and then, from the Castle and island of 
 Santa Clara, with a grumbling sound, like that of distant thunder, and 
 only when a squall came off the land, were all that told us that, with 
 the sun's appearance, the deadly struggle had commenced anew. Other 
 cares were now presented. Had the chasse maree aught on board 
 that a prudent soldier like Major Dalgetty, would declare by every war 
 regulation absolutely necessary ? The inquiry produced a painful 
 disclosure. On board this ark of liberty, there were salt fish and fresh 
 water for a day's consumption ! I thought Mark Antony would have 
 fainted when the heavy tidings were gently broke by the chief contraban- 
 dista, who should, per agreement, have been ship-agent and commissary 
 together. The truth was, my poor mother having been inhibited 
 from imposing penance and fast on me in right of certain marital 
 engagements, had laid upon the unhappy fosterer an additional 
 quantity of both — and if there were two things on earth to which 
 
 c c 2 
 
388 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Mark Antony had an invincible antipathy, cold water was the one, 
 and salt cod-fish was the other. 
 
 "Oh! we're regularly miirdered now;" ejaculated my foster 
 brother. " Blessed Virgin ! What the divil do ye call that dark 
 gentleman who got the titty-pound note? I Avould just hke to ask 
 him a civil question, if he intends sleeping quietly in his bed after 
 nearly drowning us first, and starving us, as it appears he intends to 
 do, afterwards. If we ever reacli Ireland, by my oath, I'll take an 
 action against him, and" — 
 
 " Hist ! You'll have no occasion, if my sight be accurate ; " replied 
 the sailor. " The cloud is over her again. Keep the craft away — and 
 ease the sheets a trifle. Right — by everything that's lucky I — a man-o- 
 war brig ! No mistake about that ; a man can read it in the cut of 
 her topsails." 
 
 The vessel which Rawlings had espied, in a short time was clearly 
 visible. Under single-reefed topsails, jib, and spanker, she was close- 
 hauled as her course required, while we flew down direct before 
 the breeze. Santa Clara disappeared, " the wide, wide sea" was 
 round us, the cruiser and ourselves the only occupants of ocean — and 
 in an hour, we were safely deposited on board Her Majesty's eighteen- 
 gun brig, " the Growler." The chasfie-maree was turned adrift as 
 Avorthlcss — and a promise made on the part of Captain Hardweather, 
 that Ave should be accommodated with a passage home — the GroAvler 
 being on her retiu-n to England — while our companions, captive, and 
 contrabandista, Tyrian and Trojan, should be put on board the first 
 coaster we fell in with — none of the parties having the slightest 
 inclination to visit the island home of liberty, and take up their abode 
 in a prison-ship. 
 
 Had Cupid exchanged with Eolus " for the nonce," he could not 
 have afforded to his votaries more favourable winds. The Growler 
 liked a stiff breeze, and during the run home she had no reason to 
 complain. The fourth evening we were reported to be in the chops 
 of the channel, and on the sixth, were snug at anchor in Spithead. 
 No difficulty Avas occasioned in the debarcation of our personal effects; 
 and, if all military adventurers returned in the same condition from 
 the field of glory, I suspect the trade of war Avould not be con- 
 sidered as affording a safe investment for the capital of a younger 
 son. During the passage home, a change of linen was effected by a 
 friendly loan, and every outward habiliment, from shoe to schako, when 
 we landed, Avas borroAved property. By the kindness of the brig's 
 commander, I was introduced to a banker, through Avhose agency I 
 raised the necessary supplies ; and one brief day Avrought on all a 
 marvellous change for the better. The second evening, on looking in 
 the pier glass of the hotel, I had some doubts touching my OAvn identity — 
 Mai'k Antony Avas of opinion that he should be scarcely recognized Uy 
 his OAvn dog — and William RaAvlings had actually set two barmaids 
 by the ears, and left an impression on the too tender hearts of 
 both, Avhich required a full fortnight to obliterate. 
 
 Our journey to town Avas common-place. The "AA-hips" kept 
 sober, and hence Ave had'-ij^t the exciting incident of " a spill" — 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN. 389 
 
 Robbery being obsolete and utterly iin fashionable even in the novels 
 of these Beotian days, though wo cross<;d " a blasted heath," none called 
 " vStand and deliver I " — and the passengers, one and all, seemed so 
 apathetic regarding life and property, that one would have thought 
 such heroic personages as Dick Turpin and Jerry Abershaw had 
 either not existed or that they were utterly forgotten. 
 
 Xearly three months had passed since letters reached me from 
 England. The immediate advance of the army, the quick and con- 
 stant series of events which followed it, my detention at ^'ittoria 
 first, and my captivity afterwards, rendered it almost impossible that 
 communications, addressed as they would be to the head-quarters of 
 the foiu-th division, to which I had attached myself, should reach me 
 during this short and adventurous passage in a life of '■ marvellous un- 
 certainty" while it lasted. Brief as the season was that intervened since 
 I had heard aught from those I was most interested about, how many 
 " changes and chances" in that small circle might not have occurred? 
 I envied the philosophy of the fosterer and his brother-in-law elect. 
 Neither harboured a doubt tliat all '• at home were well." At home I — 
 "What does not that simple phrase embody ? For a time I took courage 
 from the example; but. when we reached the"VMiite Horse Cellar, whence 
 the fosterer, " with lover's haste," set out to claim a bride, and the sailor 
 to embrace a parent and sister, to whom he seemed ardently attached — 
 then, left alone, I felt all the dark forebodings of one who dreams of 
 nought but happineS', and yet tremble lest fortune, in some capricious 
 humour, may have already dashed the untasted cup away. Thanks 
 to the gods I these sombre doubts were nothing but " idle phan- 
 tasies." 
 
 If ever the director of " a leathern conveniency" — cabs, gentle reader, 
 were then unknown — was put regularly to the piu of his collar to keep 
 time with an impatient gentleman, the uidiappy wiglit who drove me 
 was that person. At last we reached the street — I jumped out — paid 
 honest jarvey double — inasmuch as he averred that his " near-side xm," 
 a roarer before, was ruined for life by desperate driving — and " the 
 outsider" would not be worth a bean for a fortniglit. I knocked piano 
 at the door — an old woman opened it — " AVas Mr. Hartley at home ?" 
 She could not answer the question, for Mr. Hartley had not lived 
 there these two months. Saints and angels I what misery ! It was 
 brief. A young lady-looking personage unclosed a parlour-door, and 
 acquainted me that the arrival of some Irish relations had rendered it 
 necessarv for 3Ir. Hartley to take a larger house ; that, for the benetit 
 of country air, he had selected one some ten miles distant from the 
 city, — adding, that the family were Avell, as a servant liad called that 
 morning with some message from the ladies. She gave me my uncle's 
 address, mid in half-an-hour I was speeding to Bromley Park, as fast 
 as a light post-chaise would carry me. 
 
 Some seven miles from town, the last villag*- was passed, and the 
 remainder of the drive ran partly tlu-ougli shaded lanes, and partly 
 over open commons. At a roadside hostelrie, within a gunshot of my 
 uncle's dwelling, I discharged my cai-riage, committed the light port- 
 manteau which contained my wai'drobe to the safe keeping of the 
 
390 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 landlady, and set out, under proper directions, to find the place where 
 love and duty alike urged ine to proceed. 
 
 I easily discovered the abode of " my fair ladie." The exterior bore 
 all the appearance of respectability; and, though the light was but 
 indifferent, the entrance-lodge, palings, and close-clipped hedges, an- 
 nounced it to be a gentleman's retreat. The mansion stood ixpon a lawn 
 not far removed from the highway ; lights flared from the lower win- 
 dows, probably those of the apartment where the family were collected, 
 and, by a singular impulse, I determined to escalade the enclosure, and 
 have a sly peep, incog, at those within. 
 
 I turned from the high road into a grassy lane which skirted the 
 palings of a shrubbery — and tried them once or twice, but they were 
 confoundedly high, and in excellent preservation. I pushed on — not a 
 practicable breach to be discovered — and my uncle's mansion seemed 
 as difficult of entree as San Sebastian itself. Should I proceed, or 
 abandon the attempt as hopeless ? " Turn back !" said Common Sense, 
 — " Go on ! " and Adventure, jogged my elbow. I hesitated — a cir- 
 cumstance kicked the doubtful balance. 
 
 Within an open gateway to a field, I perceived a horse placed in 
 the keeping of some low-sized personage evidently seeking conceal- 
 ment under the deep shelter of the hedge. I spoke ; none answered. 
 Why was this horse in waiting ? It looked suspicious. Some felony 
 was intended ; burglary, or, more probably, exhumation. I strolled 
 on a few yards farther — three or four railings had been recently sawn 
 through, affording sufficient room to creep in by, and, without a 
 second's consideration, in I went. 
 
 I crossed the soft green turf, and proceeded in a straight direction 
 towards the mansion, guided by the lights which had first attracted 
 my attention on the road. A clump of evergreens suddenly shut them 
 from my view, and I paused to determine whether I should turn to 
 the right or to the left. While still uncertain, I thought something 
 moved within the trees — I listened — whispers fell upon my ear, and 
 next moment two figures glided from the clump, and crossed into 
 what appeared in the darkness to be a belt of young plantations, 
 stretching along the lawn and reaching to the lane from which I had 
 effected my entrance. Who might these men be ? Poachers, in 
 pursuit of game, or keepers, on the look-out to prevent their pre- 
 serves from being spoliated. When I recollected the horse I had 
 detected concealed beneath the hedge, I came to the first conclusion — 
 the men,, no doubt, were poachers ; and the animal had been left in 
 -charge of some confederate, to enable them to carry up to town 
 the produce of their night's marauding. In this belief, I proceeded 
 cautiously to the hall, determined to apprise mine honoured uncle that 
 knaves had " broke his park," and possibly, might " beat his keepers." 
 But another scene, and one to me of deeper interest, drove hares, 
 pheasants, and poachers from memory altogether. 
 
 When I cleared the clump of evergreens I found myself directly 
 in front of the mansion, and as the windows reached nearly to the 
 level of the lawn, the interior of the apartment was seen from without 
 distinctly. All within bore the appearance of luxury and elegance. 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAX, 391 
 
 The funiiture, the plate, the paintings, the lights, were in perfect 
 keeping with each other. In the panorama of life many such a scene 
 may be discovered. It was evidently the dwelling-place of wealth — 
 but not the abode of happiness. 
 
 Four persons occupied the chamber, and formed a striking group. 
 The jyartie carree consisted of two persons of either sex. On a soia, 
 a man past the meridian of life seemed in earnest conversation with a 
 lady, who was still in the pride of matronly beauty; the expression of 
 her face was that of settled melancholy ; and it appeared that he who 
 sate beside her was otfering consolation — but in vain. The lady 
 was my mother — the gentleman, her brother, and mine honoured 
 uncle. 
 
 At the opposite side of the apartment the other twain were seated, 
 and thither, after one hurried look at those upon the sofa, my gaze 
 was turned and there remained. My father, with Isidora on his 
 knee, encircled her waist with his solitary ai-m, while her head was 
 resting on his bosom, and her hands clasped wildly round his neck. — 
 Oh! what a change a few brief months had made I The sweet bud of 
 promise I had first seen in its mountain solitude, had flowered into 
 loveliness — and the woman, not the girl, was before me. Her face 
 was turned towards the window, and as the lights fell upon it, every 
 feature was distinct as if I stood beside her. Her's was not the calm 
 sorrow of my mother — it was the wilder outbreak of the youthful 
 heart, which vents its sufferings in sobs and tears ; and while my 
 uncle and his sister conversed'in whispers, the voices of my father 
 and my mistress were audible outside the window. I could have 
 easily suspected the cause of all this grief, had I but looked upon the 
 table and the floor. On the former lay an open post-bag, and several 
 letters with broken and unbroken seals : on the latter, a newspaper 
 was spread out at my father's foot, and, no doubt, the evil tidings it 
 had contained occasioned the anguish and distress I witnessed. 
 
 " Oh ! tell me not to hope," exclaimed the fair girl, " I cannot — 
 dare not." 
 
 It was painful to listen to the reply. The voice endeavoured to 
 assume a steadiness which its broken tones belied ; and the feelings 
 of the father and the soldier conflicted sadly, as the tongue held out 
 false and feeble hopes, which the speaker's heart secretly believed to 
 be illusory. 
 
 " Grieve not, my sweet girl," said the veteran, " He is only re- 
 turned ' missing.' No doubt Hector has been made prisoner, carried 
 into the place, probably wounded — " 
 
 " "Wounded !" exclaimed the listener, " No — no — no — Dead — dead 
 
 and I am for ever wretched" — and again the head of the fair 
 
 sufferer sank on the bosom which had supported it before. 
 
 I cannot describe my feelings ; ray heart was bursting to announce 
 ■ my safety, and I only hesitated to know how it could be most safely 
 Jone — a moment ended the doubt. 
 
 " Do not despair, Isidora — my o?i-??, oirn daughter." The words 
 came choakingly from his lips — the word daughter was too trying — 
 the chances were that he was now childless— and he hastily turned 
 
392 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 his liead away. I saw a tear stealing down his cheek — and when the 
 soldier's eye is moist, the heart, indeed, is full. 
 
 *' Cheer up, my dearest Isidora, all may yet be well — Hector may 
 live—" 
 
 I could not control the impulse — 
 
 ^^ He does live!" burst from my lips involuntarily. 
 
 " Saints and angels I " exclaimed Mr. Clifford, springing from his 
 chair, and flinging the casement open — " True ! by every tiling provi- 
 dential ! Himself ! Hector — and in safety ! " 
 
 As he spoke, I jumped through the window. My lady-mother 
 uttered an exclamation of joy, and sank back upon the cushions of the 
 safa. My mistress sprang from my father's knee, and fainted in my 
 arms. 
 
 " And, of course, you re-deposited the young lady upon the place 
 from whence she came, and flew dutifully to the assistance of j-our 
 mamma, Mr. Hector O'Halloran ? " 
 
 Mr. Eeader, I never reply to impertinent questions ; but, entre nous, 
 I rather imagine that the resuscitation of the elder gentlewoman, was 
 entirely committed to her husband and ]Mr. Clifford. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIY. 
 
 THE CRISIS ArrROACHES. 
 
 North. " Every minute now 
 
 Should be the fither of a stratagem ;" 
 
 '' Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf. 
 Foretells the nature of a tragick volume." 
 
 2d Part of Hen. IV. 
 
 A LETTER I had received on my return to the head-quarters of the 
 fourth division, after my .^ejour with the Empecinado, had apprized 
 me that events in which my future fortunes were involved, hurried 
 rapidly to a crisis. My communications Avith England had then 
 ceased ; and, on my unexpected return home, I found I had opportunely 
 ai'rived when my presence was most desirable, and the denouevient of 
 the drama was at hand. 
 
 Without wearying the reader with the details of my uncle's pro- 
 ceedings, we w411 bring their results before him, up to the evening 
 Avlien at Bromley Hall I popped so unexpectedly through a window, 
 and frightened two amiable ladies into fointing-tits. 
 
 It was the evening of a sultry day, the harvest had commenced, and, 
 over a rich and picturesque expanse of country, far as the eye could 
 range, the sickle was busily employed. On an elevation, in a domain 
 of noble extent, a gentleman far advanced in years, was seated on a 
 rustic bench, under thp ex]">ansive sliaflow of an onk the growth of 
 centui-iec. At times he looked at the busy and interesting scene 
 
HECTOR o'lIALLORAN. 393 
 
 which the landscape all around presented — and tli(>n resumed the 
 perusal of a newspaper. The domain was Clifford Park — the old 
 English gentleman was my grandfather. 
 
 At the side of a copse, not many yards distant from the bench 
 where the owner of the park was seated, another and a very different 
 personage might have been discovered. She was a gipsy-woman of 
 middle age, and seemed busily employed in gathering sticks wherewith 
 to cook her supper. The old gentleman looked at her with some 
 attention. For the last three evenings he had remarked her at the same 
 hour and on the same spot. The regularity of her appearance had there- 
 fore excited some curiosity— and, beckoning her to come forward, he 
 took his purse from his pocket, and presented her with some silver. 
 
 On receiving this munificent present, the gipsy curtseyed reverently 
 to the ground — the old gentleman resumed his newspaper, and waved 
 his hand as a signal she should retire ; but she made a step closer to the 
 bencli, directed a speaking look at Mr. Clifford for a moment, then 
 threw a suspicious glance around, and, in a low voice said, with some 
 hesitation, " We are alone, sir, — Dare I speak to you?" 
 
 The old gentleman for a moment regarded the speaker with marked 
 astonishment. The manner, rather than the words, was startling ; 
 but he nodded a mute assent. 
 
 " For many a week I have sought this opportunity ; but you are 
 so closely watched, that, hitherto, I dared not venture near you — I 
 have tidings — " 
 
 " None, woman, that can interest me," said the old man, with a 
 melancholy sigh. " There is nothing in this life to give me pleasure, 
 and little connected with it that could cause me pain. No tie binds 
 me to the \vorld — " 
 
 " And yet you have a double one — the dearest to ordinary hearts. 
 Have you not a daughter and a grandchild?" 
 
 " Stop, woman, — who are you ?" 
 
 " The humble instrument oi" Heaven, destined, I hope, to restore to 
 the parent's arms, a child alienated far too long— Ah I here comes yon 
 meddling priest ! Would you even yet have the remnant of your 
 days made happy, be here to-morrow evening — and, for your own sake, 
 be silent." 
 
 " I will ;" said the old man impressively. The gipsy assumed her 
 former attitude of deep humility, curtseyed to the ground again, re- 
 sumed the bundle of sticks she had collected ; and, as if she had not 
 perceived him coming, turned into the direct path by which the con- 
 fessor hastily advanced. 
 
 They met ; the gipsy made her humble obeisance, which the priest 
 returned by a searching glance. In the handsome features of the 
 wanderer there was nothing to excite suspicion, and he simply asked 
 " what was her business with Mr. Clifford ?" 
 
 With a face beaming with delight at having received a large and 
 xmexpected gratuity, the gipsy unclosed her hand. 
 
 " See, reverend sir, what his noble honour has bestowed upon the 
 poor wanderer !" and she pointed to the silver Mr. Clifford had just 
 given. " It is many a long day since I was mistress of so mucli. 
 
394 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 Reverend sir, you ai'e not angry at my gleaning a few sticks ^ Be- 
 lieve me, poor Mary will do no injury to the ti'ees. You look a 
 kind-hearted gentleman. Heaven grant you long and happy days !" 
 
 "V^^lat will not the mystic influence of beauty effect ? The cold 
 churchman looked at the supplicant for a moment — a soft black eye 
 was eloquently turned on his, as, " with lips apart," disclosing teeth of 
 pearly whiteness, the gipsy timidly awaited his reply. 
 
 " How lovely she must have been in woman's noon -day !" the con- 
 fessor i^involuntarily muttered. " You have the permission, you ask. 
 Take care it be not abused." Again the gipsy curtseyed, and the church- 
 man passed on — giving her, in return for an outbreak of ardent thanks, 
 
 unbeliever as she was, his j^arting benedicite ! 
 
 ****** 
 
 Days passed — the weather continued beautiful, and the lord of 
 Clifford Hall might have been seen on his favourite seat beneath 
 the old oak tree every afternoon — generally, the confessor close at 
 hand, and the gipsy gathering sticks in some of the copses at no great 
 distance. Twice she contrived to convey a sealed packet to the old 
 man unperceived ; and, on the following evening, after he had perused 
 their contents, she saw, with unspeakable delight, that what he had 
 read was not displeasing. The letters were from his long lost son, 
 cautiously worded to sound the old man's secret feeling, lay the 
 ground-work of a disclosure, and prepare him for coming events. 
 
 It was on the third evening before I had so very unexpectedly 
 presented myself at Bromley Hall, that, just as the light was failing, 
 a man, evidently in an excited mood, paced slowly back and forwards 
 in front of the ancient oak in Clifford Park, which we have already 
 described as being a favourite spot with the owner of the domain. 
 Besides the extended view over the surrounding country which this 
 rising ground commanded from its crest, the front and back entrances 
 to the park were visible — and towai'ds both, the lonely visitor turned 
 frequently an anxious look. At last, as if wearied with his solitary 
 vigil, the confessor — for it was he — broke into a rambling soliloquy. 
 
 " It is strange] what has delayed him — two long hours beyond the 
 time he told me he should return ! I can scarce believe that I am 
 waking. He who for years has been the creature of my will — who 
 thought as I dictated — who acted as I pointed out — who in my 
 hands was but a mere automaton, whom I wound and directed as I 
 pleased — that he should thus miraculously assume an independence, 
 and break through the thrall that bound him. — By mine order, 'tis 
 marvellous — 'tis scarcely credible ! That cursed interview with his 
 grandson laid the foundation of the whole — and yet I fancied that I 
 had remedied the mischief, and extinguished the yearnings of natural 
 affection which the youth's sudden appearance rekindled in the old 
 man's breast. But the last fortnight has crowned the mystery. 
 Three long years — the old man never penned a letter. "Were 
 private communications to be made, I was summoned to indite them. 
 "Was business to be transacted, the steward was always the amanuensis. 
 But now, he sits for hours alone — and writes, and transmits letters 
 daily, and by the hand of one who hates my creed, and with whom I 
 
HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 395 
 
 dare not tamper. What can be done ? Never was a game more 
 critical — one false move, and all is lost. The tidings of the 
 evening too, are ominous. His lawyer to be here to-morrow — his 
 errand, strictly secret too. What augurs that but mischief? By 
 every saint, I "know not how to act. True, I have not let the harvest 
 pass without gleaning plentifully — and, better still, I have secured 
 the reward of many an anxious scheme. But to see the grand object 
 of my ten years of toil and artifice slip from my grasp — even at the 
 moment when the course of nature should have consummated the 
 triumph of sound conceptions, ably and patiently carried out — Ha ! — a 
 horseman — 'Tis he — I'll reach the hall before him." 
 
 While the steward rode hastily to the stables, the priest had reached 
 the mansion and retired to his private apartments. There, he im- 
 patiently waited the return of his confederate — and, in a few minutes, 
 the steward presented himself If the confessor fancied that himself 
 had startling tidings to communicate, one glance at the steward's 
 agitated countenance, assured him that heavier news had yet to be 
 unfolded. 
 
 " How now ! " he muttered. " You seem disturbed. Has ought 
 occurred to cause us more disquietude ? " 
 
 " We stand upon the brink of ruin," was the reply. 
 " Go on — whence comes the threatened danger?' inquired the 
 churchman. 
 
 " From the grave !" returned the steward. 
 " The grave?"- 
 
 " Ay, holy father — well may you betray astonishment. One 
 believed dead for five-and-twenty yeai-s not only lives, but actually 
 resides within a few miles of where we stand." 
 " Whom mean ye ? " said the priest. 
 "Edward Clifford!" 
 
 " Impossible ! " exclaimed the churchman. " He died in misery 
 and exile. 'Tis some impostor." 
 
 " It is the true man, by Heaven!"—" Think ye that one who 
 hated him as I did— who was robbed of the object of his love— who 
 swore eternal vengeance, kept the vow faithfully, and wrought the 
 secret ruin of him who wronged him— think you, holy sir, that he 
 could ever forget one, at tlie same time, the offender and the victim. 
 No — no — ordinary injuries pass from the memory in time — but 
 .insulted love leaves a burning recollection in the heart, which death 
 alone obliterates." 
 
 " By the holy saints!" exclaimed the confessor, "your tidings ai-e 
 astonishing." 
 
 " You iiave not heard the worst," continued the steward. " Give 
 me some wine — for faith, my nerves are sorely shaken by the oc- 
 currences of this afternoon. Fill your glass, father, and listen to a 
 tale, singular and wonderful as any which, even in the confessional, 
 may have reached your ears." 
 
 " You know that the object of my ride to-day was to trace, if possible, 
 the person with whom the old man holds his dangerous correspon- 
 dence. Every inquiry failed — and I was returning a sadder, but not 
 
396 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 a wiser man than when I left yon, considerhig what channel I 
 should next try to seek the information we require, when simple 
 accident discovered the perilous position in which m'c stand — one that, 
 in danger, infinitely surpasses any thing which our gloomiest appre- 
 hensions could have fancied. 
 
 " A short time since, a stranger, named Hartley, took Bromley Hall 
 for a few months ; and there he immediately removed his establish- 
 ment. It was on a small scale, 'twas said, but in every respect that 
 befitting a gentleman ; and as Mr. Hartley was retii-ed in his habits, 
 and visited with no one in the neighbourhood, his arrival made no 
 sensation in the country ; he was scarcely known beyond his own 
 domain, nor did any one inquire who he was, or whence he came. 
 
 " On my return this evening, after an unsuccessful mission, close to 
 ' the George ' — a road-side house contiguous to Bromley Hall — my 
 horse cast a shoe, and I stopped to have it replaced. While the smith 
 was doing it, I strolled from the forge and sauntered down a shaded 
 lane ; within an open gate a fallen tree was lying, and as the evening 
 was close, I turned in and sate down to rest myself upon its stem. 
 Presently, at the other side of the paling, I heard footsteps move 
 cautiously along. An opening in the fence enabled me to ascertain who 
 the person was — and you may easily fancy my astonishment, when I 
 recognised the gipsy woman, Avho, for the last three weeks, has been 
 every day in Cliiford Park under the pretence of gathering fire-wood. 
 Although surprised for a moment at her appearance, I remembered 
 that the wandering habits of her people throw them across one's path 
 in every direction where business calls ; I rose to return to the forge 
 and resume my ride, when suddenly the gipsy stopped, looked sus- 
 piciously around to see that no one had observed her, then drawing a 
 key from her bosom she applied it to a wicket in the paling, and the 
 next moment entered the grounds of Bromley Hall, and disappeared. 
 
 " Strange and mysterious fancies crossed my mind — I determined to 
 w^atch her movements, but how was I to follow ? I continued my 
 researches along the park palings, and at last discovered an opening 
 occasioned by the removal of several slabs, for what purpose I cannot 
 pretend to guess. 
 
 " I found myself in a thick plantation, left all to chance, and blindly 
 wandered on. Imagine my surprise when, not forty yards off, I 
 suddenly perceived the gipsy in deep conversation with a stranger. 
 They spoke in whispers, hence I could not overhear a word that 
 passed ; but I saw distinctly a letter pass from her hand to his, and 
 the action of both during their brief conversation was marked and 
 energetic. At last the interview was over, and both returned towards 
 the wicket in the paling through which the gipsy had entered 
 Bromley Park. 
 
 " The path wound through the plantation, and at not a yard's dis- 
 tance from the spot where I had concealed myself, but fortunately a 
 thick holly hid me effectually, and yet permitted me to observe the 
 faces of the persons who approached. Almost within arm's length the 
 man paused suddenly — 
 
 " ' And is he so far prepared for the extraordinary revelations which 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAX. 397 
 
 are about to be made ? ' he inquired in a low voice that thrilltd 
 through my very soul. 
 
 " ' He is ' — returned this infernal agent. ' lie knows that his grand- 
 son is recalled — that Hector's father is already in England — that his 
 daughter is ready to fly to the bosom from which she has been so long 
 estranged. Nay, more — I have dtu-kly insinuated that many a wild 
 youth, after years of wandering, has returned ; and plainly hinted that 
 a son lost to him so long might live — nay, did lire!' 
 
 " Could I believe the evidences of my senses, holy father ? Was 
 it a dream? Oh ! no, no — all was fatal reality. 
 
 " ' Mary,' returned a voice, whose tones were unchanged as when I 
 last heard them in this very room — ' Mary, your services have made 
 me for life your debtor, and to his humble but faithful ally, I trust, 
 in a few days, Edward C'litFord will prove his gratitude.' "' 
 
 " CliSbrd — the exiled, the discarded, the dead I What ! he returned 
 — received — restored to life ! Impossible ! " exclaimed the confessor 
 springing from his seat, and shivering to pieces on the table the wine 
 glasswhich he had held untasted in Ids hand, while Morley recounted 
 his strange adventure. 
 
 " True, by every thing sacred!" returned the steward. — " On they 
 passed — I caught a glimpse of his well-remembered features, — years 
 and climate had laid their heavy imprint on them, but in outline, they 
 were those of my former play-feUow. The light and springy figure 
 of the boy were gone — and a stout and compact form now stood before 
 me, and just such as I.remember Mr. Clifi"ord's was some thirty years 
 ago. rioly f\ither, Edward CliiFord is alive, and not seven miles 
 from where we sit." 
 
 " I do not put faith in witchcraft," muttered the priest — '• but this 
 strange tale of yours would almost make me a believer. Well — we 
 both, it would appear, are on the eve of ruin. I, in expectations 
 which I conceived to be sure as certainty itself— and your acquisitions, 
 my good friend, methinks are sadly jeopardized." 
 
 "Mine jeopardized!" exclaimed the steward— " More than that, 
 x-everend sir— I shall be ruined, beggared, and undone. It is not the 
 blow itself, heavy as it is, but the suddenness of the stroke that annihilates 
 me. Could I but have had the warning of a month — in that brief inter- 
 val, I might have so arranged, that when I bent to the storm — as bend 
 I must — I might have sought another country, possessor of ten thou- 
 sand pounds ; ay, and carried with me too the rents payable a 
 fortnight lience. If ever calamity fell heavily on man, it has fallen 
 upon me— and by such agency — the only beings upon earth whom 1, 
 at the same time, hated and injured most." 
 
 " Yes," observed the churchman, half in soliloquy and half ad- 
 dressing himself to his companion—" the mystery is cleared — and the 
 old man's altered bearing is now sufficiently accounted for. Worse 
 yet— the mischief is beyond all remedy. One duped so long and so 
 completely, when once the mind is disabused, becomes ten-fold more 
 suspicious than they who have never been deceived. Mr. CliffiDrd is 
 exactly that sort of cliaracter. His thoughts and acts are now as clearly 
 revealed to me, as if I had listened to every communication made by 
 
398 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 that artful woman, and read the secret letters he has written and re- 
 ceived. For how long, did this returned prodigal mention to his female 
 confederate, that these intended disclosures were to be delayed ? " 
 
 " The phrase was vague," replied the steward. ' In a few days' — 
 ay, that was the term he used." 
 
 " A limited time, indeed, for action — but brief as it is, I will avail 
 myself of the lull, and not await the bursting of the storm," observed 
 the confessor. 
 
 " And will you leave me alone to face the coming tempest ? " in- 
 quired the steward, with evident alarm and surprise. "Holy father — 
 have I not ever been to you a faithful friend ? Have I not acted 
 as you directed ? Have not my own interests been frequently sacri- 
 ficed to yours ? Has not your word with me been law — your advice 
 implicitly followed — your plans zealously carried out ? I was ever 
 your ready and your willing agent — and now, in the hour of need and 
 danger, will you desert me ? " 
 
 A pause of a minute ensued. 
 
 " Moi'ley," returned the confessor slowly — " I cannot see how 
 my remaining here could serve you. You wish to delay events — to 
 avert them would now be idle as to war against the elements. But 
 how can breathing-time be gained ? Mine own interests would make 
 a short interval before discovery shall take place, as desirable as is 
 respite to the criminal ; but, by mine order — I cannot devise any 
 plan that could promise even probable success. We stand upon a 
 loaded mine — and who can say the moment when the engineer will 
 fire the train ? " 
 
 " Still, reverend sir, continued the steward — " have we not days 
 to count upon — and what might not hours, were they but well-em- 
 ployed, accomplish?" 
 
 " Yes," returned the priest — " days certainly may be reckoned 
 on — and, under ordinary circumstances, much might be efiected in the 
 mean-while. But in this case — rone so hopeless and so desperate — 
 when the very grave would seem to have given up its dead — 
 and when — " 
 
 " The grave must receive the living in return. Ay, father, there 
 is but one chance left, — Clifford dies — no alternative remains but death 
 for him — or disgrace, and poverty, and banishment for me." 
 
 " No more of that," exclaimed the cautious churchman. " Pause 
 ere you act — and weigh well the consequences. England, for such 
 experiments, is a dangerous country. Remember your former attempt 
 on young O'HaUoran. What a disastrous failure ! Four lives were 
 sacrificed — while he, the destined victim, passed through the trial 
 unharmed !" 'Twere better, possibly, my friend, to yield to circum- 
 stances, and — " 
 
 " See myself impoverished and insulted. I am no favourite with 
 the country, — they view me as an upstart — and often has that cutting 
 truth been told me to my face. The tenants on these estates secretly 
 dislike me. As matters stand, their bad feelings are not exhibited — 
 but let the change come that we anticipate — then, like a cry of hounds, 
 every voice will be united against me, and I must either skidk cowardly 
 
HECTOR O HALLORAN. 399 
 
 away, or be hunted to the death, while the man I hate, have hated, 
 and will while life remains detest, he will be received with acclama- 
 tion, and trample on a fallen enemy whose neck is already in the 
 very dust. No — no — though life be lost in the attempt, near as he 
 fancies himself to this, his long estreated inheritance — he never shall 
 be nearer. Father, I start instantly for London. "We must act — 
 ay, and act immediately." 
 
 '• Of these things I remain in ignorance," returned the con- 
 fessor. " But if you risk this perilous attempt — safety and success 
 in every mortal venture, depend upon two simple qualities — prudence 
 and promptness. These two, in human actions, are worth every cardinal 
 virtue beside. Farewell — I too have cares which, for hours to come, 
 will keep me watching." 
 
 The confederates separated — each to carry out his own particular 
 object. The confessor had only the future to regret — the past he had 
 secured — and consequently, he had neither a necessity or a wish to 
 join in Morley's dangerous experiments. With the steward, matters 
 were altogether different. In rash confidence, all that he had cared 
 for hitherto, was to accumulate — and hence, his ill-acquired wealtli 
 had been so clumsily invested, that time was absolutely necessary to 
 enable him to regain possession of his property. That time could 
 only be obtained by a fearful and perilous attempt. But no course 
 besides remained — and Morley started that night for London. 
 
 ***** 3(5 
 
 The evening was wild and blustering — doors creaked — windows 
 were unusually noisy for that season of the year — and those who had 
 a fire-side, were too happy to find themselves at home. " The 
 George" was entirely deserted; for the stragglers who had dropped 
 in after sunset, alarmed at the threatening appearance of the weather, 
 took a hurried refreshment, and pushed forward to gain their abiding 
 places before the fury of the night should break. Three travellers, 
 however, still remained. They had required and obtained an apai't- 
 ment for their especial use — and a fire having been lighted in the 
 parlour of the hostlerie, the wayfarers there bestowed themselves. 
 
 One, who seemed to play the host, was a man of respectable ap- 
 pearance, and beyond the middle age. He might be a farmer, a 
 lawyer, a ti-ader — but it was clear he was not, in common parlance, 
 a gentleman. The others were of a caste immeasurably inferior. One 
 was tall, burly, and dark-visaged — the other, short, slightly-framed, 
 and sandy - haired. The countenances of both were particularly 
 repulsive — and a stranger would have found it hard to determine 
 whether they were knaves, or ruffians, or both. 
 
 He who appeared " lord of the revels" seemed ill at ease. He rose 
 from his chair — looked for a moment from the window — muttered 
 sometliing about '• foul weather out of doors — " returned, sounded a 
 hand-bell which had been placed beside him — ordered supper to be 
 hastened, and brandy and water to be brought in, to fiU the tedious 
 interval. 
 
 The order was obeyed — " the maid of the inn " departed — the door 
 was closed — and each of the company, by an involuntary impulse, 
 
4J() THE iOKTUNES OF 
 
 looked over his shoulder to ascertain that no eaves-dropper was near. 
 He who played the host seemed in no mood for revelry, and merely 
 sipped the j^lass before him — the lesser of the strangers also drank 
 sparingly — but the tall rutfian turned down the tumbler considerably 
 below its centre, pushed its diminished contents further on the boai-d, 
 and then leaning a pair of overgrown hands upon his knees, and 
 bending forward until his head, by slow progression, had made a 
 Turkish obeisance to the superior of the company, in slow and pointed 
 terms he begged respectfully to inquire, " what business had brought 
 himself and — " he merely pointed to his companion — " on such short 
 notice to the country ?" 
 
 " Business — and that, too, of consequence," was the brief reply. 
 
 " All right," returned the stouter ruffian. "Business is very well 
 in its way — but I'd like *to understand the nature of the job before 
 I undertook it. Light work is well enough, but when it comes, Mr. 
 Thimrembob — for I don't know y'er name — to what we calls heavy, 
 wot means, ye know, hemp or transportation — why then men must look 
 about them, and ax a question or two before they takes on." 
 
 To this judicious remark the smaller of the two assented by a 
 gracious inclination of the head— while the question, so homely put, 
 appeared to have disconcerted their respectable patron, for he did not 
 answer for a minute, and then the reply wj© evasive. After passing 
 a flattering encomium on the character of the late Mr. Sloman — 
 Avhose irreparable loss was deeply to be regretted — he hinted that, 
 in his line of business, there was now a blank. His unhappy death, 
 and the equally unhappy consequences which followed, had left a di'eary 
 void. It was impossible to find a professional gentleman equally 
 talented and trustworthy. Undoubtedly, men of high honour and 
 strong nerve could be found — and therefore, rather than run risks, he, 
 Mr. Jones, as he was pleased to call himself, would prefer doing busi- 
 ness with principals, and having no humbug among friends, 
 
 ^^Hiat a strange epitome of life the scenes enacted at an inn would 
 furnish ! How dissimilar in rank, in object, in vocation, are those 
 whom every apartment of this human halting-place receives in turn ! 
 The care-worn and the careless — the miser and the spendthrift. 
 Opulence, with unassuming carriage — penury, vainly attempting to 
 brazen out its wretchedness. A noble, in title old as the conquest, 
 rests in this chamber to-day — to-morrow it will be tenanted by a bag- 
 man, who never heard that such a being as his grandfather had exist- 
 ence. This evening a bridal party occupy the inn. They dream of 
 naught but happiness — theirs is a fancy world — their road of life is 
 carpeted with roses — they leave next morning. Who, next in succes- 
 sion, fill the same apartment on the morrow ? — a coroner's inquest, to 
 ascertain what caused the suicide of a village beauty, " who loved not 
 wisely, but too well." 
 
 While Mr. Jones and his friends were thus engaged in the large 
 parlour upstairs, in a small back room behind the bar of " the 
 George," two other personages were comfortably located. One was 
 the jolly hostess, whom nothing but " rum and true religion " could 
 have upholden, seeing that, in the brief space of ten years, she had 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 401 
 
 been thrioe a mourner. Finding, however, that in marita^ hiek 
 there is no faith " in odd numbers," she had judiciously concluded on 
 risking the fortune of an even one ; and, at the moment when Mr. 
 Morley was bargaining Avith his amiable companions above stairs, 
 the widow of " the George" was endeavouring to ascertain whether a 
 matrimonial arrangement was likely to '" come off" below. 
 
 " A mighty cold place these cross roads must be in the winter ; 
 and I don't wonder, Mrs. Tomkins, that you're uncommon lonely — and 
 especially in the long nights. How short the days are gettin'!" 
 
 " Ah, Mister Magavarel — " 
 
 " Macgreal, if you please, ]Mrs. Tomkins." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said the lady ; " but, as I was saying, I'll 
 never get over Christmas as I am. Though I look stout and hearty, 
 I am but a timidious sort of woman after all ; — a figlit in the kitchen 
 knocks me of a heap, and noises after night put me totally from 
 sleeping afterwards." 
 
 " Ah ! then I pity ye, Mrs. Tomkins," returned the suitor ; '• after 
 sodding three dacent husbands, no wonder that a fourth would be in 
 ye'r way, now that the could weather's comin' on. It was only yester- 
 day I was sayin' to Mister Dominik, the black gentleman at the park, 
 " Dominik," says I. "What?" says he. "If ever," says I, "I'd 
 venture to go before the priest in company wid a woman, it's Mistress 
 Tomkins, of the George, would be my choice." 
 
 " And isn't it strange, Mister Macgreal, that you never took a wife ?" 
 
 " I was over bashful when a boy, and feaks ! my modesty never quitted 
 me afterwards," returned Shemas Ehua, looking afe innocently in the 
 smiling face of the landlady of the George, as if he had never crooked 
 a knee before Father Peter Fogarty at the altar of hymen. 
 
 Shame on ye for a deceiver ! If the honest woman who owns you 
 in Connemara were but at your elbow, and overheard your insidious 
 attempts upon the too-tender hearted Widow Tomkins, I would not 
 be in your coat, Shemas Rhua, for all the rats and rabbits you'll kill 
 this side of Christmas ! 
 
 To wdiat lengths Captain Macgreal might have m-ged his treacherous 
 suit, it would be difficult to fancy, but the sudden entrance of ]Mrs. 
 Tomkins's attendant, fortunately for her lady's peace of mind, inter- 
 rupted the further oratory of the f\xlse ratcatcher. She delivered 
 some trifling message. 
 
 " If ever," continued the maid of the inn, " murder was written in 
 a mortal countenance, you may see it in the faces of two of the fellow.s 
 above stairs. Lord ! if they stop here to-night, I shall never close an eye 1" 
 
 " "Who are they ?" inquired the ratcatcher. 
 
 " Heaven only knows," was the reply. " They came into the 
 liouse about an hour ago, and from the appearance of their shoes, 1 
 .should say they had walked some distance. They in(|uired for a Mr. 
 Jones ; and on being told there was no person here ol" the name, they 
 called for some ale, and said they would sit down and wait for their 
 friend's arrival. Presently the man they asked for arrived on horse- 
 l)ack, dismounted, spoke to the others for some minutes, requested to 
 have the use of a private room, and they retired together." 
 
 D D 
 
402 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 " You may depend upon it, the errand that brought them here 
 is not an honest one. Could you but see the suspicious looks they 
 throw round them when I enter or leave the room !" 
 
 " We'll soon know more of both themselves and the business that 
 brought them here," returned the buxom widow. " You must know, 
 Mister Macgreal, that a dark closet I keep for my private use, is 
 divided from the large sitting room up stairs by a boarded partition, 
 and there are cracks in the paper through which you can see what 
 passes in the other room, and hear every word that's said. Many a 
 stolen kiss I've witnessed there — and many a tale of love I've listened 
 to. Follow me softly. But, Lord ! what was I going to do ? Venture 
 myself in the dark, and with an Irish gentleman ! Oh ! I won't move 
 a step, unless Susan comes along with us." 
 " Honour bright !" exclaimed the ratcatcher. 
 
 " And you know there must be somebody left to mind the bar," 
 added the spider-brusher. 
 
 These observations were conclusive, and after an assurance of great 
 discretion on the Captain's part, the lady agreed to venture herself 
 alone, and even in the dark, with the bashful Irishman. 
 
 Without occasioning the slightest alarm to the guests, who occupied 
 the "great chamber" of the George, the ratcatcher and his fair com- 
 panion ensconced themselves in the closet, and as it would appear, too, 
 at a moment when the negotiation had assumed a business-looking 
 character, and matters Avere drawing to a close. 
 
 " We understand one another perfectly," said Mr. Jones. 
 " I must allow it," replied the larger of the ruffians, " that you have 
 come straight-for'ed to the scratch, Mr. Jones ; and I hopes you vo'nt 
 take it amiss, that we axed that part of the coal should be posted 
 before we undertakes the job. Ye see, it's what we calls heavy work, 
 — nothing like greasing a man's list before he commences, it makes 
 him go at the bisniss slap, because he knows that the rowdy will be 
 stumped up when all's right afterwards. It's now late enough, so if 
 you'll show us the way into the park, and point the right-un out, we'll 
 make matters sure to-morrow night, and no mistake." 
 
 " I am satisfied you will acquit yourselves like men of spirit," was 
 the reply. " Proceed down the lane that turns to the right, and when 
 I discharge the reckoning, I'll mount my horse and follow. At the 
 second gate — you will find it open — wait for me." 
 
 " The ruffians twain" rose and left the room, their employer called a 
 bill, ordered his horse to the door, and quitted the hostlerie. The 
 Captain prepared to follow him, and having kissed the landlady, a 
 liberty for which he received a severe reproof, accompanied, however, 
 by a general invitation to drop in as often as he could, "the George" 
 in a few minutes was totally deserted, and Mrs. Tomkins issued orders 
 that her pi'emises should be closed for the night, with a passing remark 
 to her attendant, of " what a nice man Mr. Hartley's keeper was." 
 
HECTOR OHALLORAN. 403 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 Ghster. — " I was a pack-liorse in his great affiiirs." 
 
 King Rich^ rd IIL 
 
 " Thou art in London — in that pleasant place 
 WTiere ev'ry kind of mischief's daily brewing." 
 
 Dox JCAN. 
 
 A QUARTER of an hour elapsed before the confusion my sudden 
 entrance into the drawing-room of Bromley Park occasioned the in- 
 mates, had entirely subsided. I ran briefly over the narrative of my 
 capture and escape — accounted for the non-appearance of the fosterer 
 — was assured, notwithstanding wounds and " durance vile," that I 
 looked particularly healthy — and in due course returned, as in duty 
 bound, a shower of compliment. The Colonel was particularly anxious 
 to know why a lodgment was attempted on the breach, without batter- 
 ing down the defences ; and in support of his opinion, made some 
 extensive quotations from Vauban and Carnot. He also wished to 
 inquire, why the false alarm upon the land-side, when the globe of 
 compression was fired with such success, had not been turned, like the 
 feint of the third division at Badajoz, into a real attack ? ]\Ir. Clifford 
 asked the exact date to which my last advices from England had 
 reached me, that he should take up his details therefrom. My mother 
 was solicitous in ascertaining how often Mark Antony had attended 
 mass ; and was rather anxious to find out whether the fosterer had 
 fasted upon Fridays, and figured frequently at confession. Poor 
 Isadora's were whispered queries, and more readily and Avillingly 
 replied to: — " Had I really thought of her ?" and " Were the ladies 
 of the Peninsula so handsome as they had been represented?" The 
 answer to the first was an ardent affirmation, and to the second I 
 gave a faithful assent — for the finest features of Isadora's beauty were 
 decidedly Spanish. 
 
 _The entrance of two former acquaintances, Dominique and my loving 
 ■countryman, the ratcatcher, induced the ladies to withdraw, and retire 
 to their respective apartments. From the faithful negro I received 
 an ardent welcome ; and the Captain was graciously pleased to express 
 his satisfaction at my return. Indeed, the outer man of the latter was 
 so changed for the better, that I might have passed him on the road 
 and not recognised my former ally. The eccentric habiliments in which 
 he had migrated from " the far-west," had given place to the smart 
 costume of an English game-keeper ; and as the Captain was a stout, 
 careless-looking fellow, no wonder he had found favour in the widow's 
 sight, and had been pronounced by that experienced lady, " a nice 
 man." 
 
 D D 2 
 
404 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 After Dominique's congratulations, and Shemas Rhua's " ceade 
 fealtagh" had been duly delivered, the latter, in sentences equally 
 compounded of English and Irish, the ratcatclicr announced himself 
 to my uncle, as the bearer of important intelligence. He had been 
 taking a turn round the park, he said, after night-fall, with tlie gun 
 Tmder his arm, on the look-out for poachers, and in the course of his 
 rambles had dropped into "the George:" What occurred there he 
 briefly detailed, with the omission of all love-passages between 
 himself and the fair widow, and then he thus proceeded with his 
 narrative : — 
 
 " I followed the sound of the horse's feet. When the rider reached 
 the second gate in the lane, he dismounted, joined the other villains, 
 and all three walked forward towards the broken palings, while I 
 slipped quietly through the wicket, and, knowing my path well, was at 
 the opening in the fence before they reached it. Only two of them came 
 in, for the little fellow remained outside with the horse. They went 
 along, trampling on broken boughs as they groped their road, while I 
 kept the grass under my foot, and dodged them without being over- 
 heard. They made directly for the house — and when they turned by 
 the clump of ever-greens, 1 ran round by the other side and hid behind 
 a holly. I saw them steal to the window of this room, and look in 
 for at least five minutes. They then fell back close to the bush that 
 slieltered me. 
 
 " 'You're certain you know the man?' says the dacent dressed 
 fellow to the other thief. 
 
 " ' To be sure I do,' was the answer — ' he has a pair of arms, and 
 the other cove but one.' 
 
 " ' You see how easily it can be done. You can shoot him from the 
 outside, and be safe on the high road before any body could give an 
 alarm.' 
 
 " ' The job's plain enough,' said the other. 
 
 " ' And the moment it's done, mind that you be off at once to 
 London — and for your lives don't stop to drink on the Avay. Attend 
 to this — avoid public houses — and all trace of you is lost.' 
 
 " ' And you'll be sure to meet us the day after ?' 
 
 " ' Sure as the sun will rise.' 
 
 " ' And what time should we do the trick ? ' 
 
 " ' As soon after dusk as you can manage it. Earlier would not be 
 safe. Can you conceal your arms ? ' 
 
 " ' Easily — I'll borrow a poacher's gun from an old pal of mine. It 
 comes in pieces; the barrel un-screws in the middle, and you can carry 
 it in the hare-pocket of a shooting jacket.' 
 
 " ' Come. — You know the man and the place. Let us be off. I'm 
 too late from home.' 
 
 " They returned through the plantation. As they approached the 
 paling — I still hanging on their heels — I was sorely tempted to give 
 them a barrel a piece before we parted ; but I thought, as I had found 
 out all they were after, that it was better to let them pass this time — 
 and inform your honour of what was in the wind." 
 
 " You acted, gallant Captain," replied Mr. Clifford, " with excellent 
 
IIKCTOn OHALLOKAN. 405 
 
 tact and judgment. I see clearly through the business. My ex- 
 istence and return are discovered— and tlie wretch, who caused my 
 exile, would now consummate his villany by murder. It will only 
 expedite the denouement — and with the failure of to-morrow night, 
 Morley's career will close. Come, Hector, we must not forget that 
 yon require refreshment — and while you sup, I will acquaint you 
 with events which have occurred during your absence from the 
 country." 
 
 While my uncle was detailing the progress of his secret operations, 
 I was giving him ocular proof that my appetite had not deteriorated 
 by campaigning. But even supper and a long story has an end. The 
 clock had struck the first hour of morning — we parted for the night — 
 the Colonel, by no means satisfied that the assault on San Sebastian 
 should have failed — IVIr. Clifford, to mature his plans, and avail liim- 
 self of the ratcatcher's information — and I, to seek my pillow with 
 that blessed and heart-cheering assurance, that all I loved dearest on 
 earth were slumbering beneath the same roof-tree. 
 
 From Bromley Park we will carry the reader for a brief interval 
 away, and follow the fosterer and his companion to the native village 
 of the latter. It Avas sunset on the succeeding evening, before the 
 stage coach on whose roof the pair were seated, stopped at the cross 
 roads at a mile's distance from Eawlings's home, and there deposited 
 the travellers. Never did a couple of Avayfarers cross a pathway 
 more expeditiously. They had light kits and light purses — but they 
 had what was better than any thing wealth could produce, lighter 
 hearts — for from a fellow-passenger, AVilliam, to the inquiry, " Doth 
 my father still live?" had received an assurance that the old man was 
 well, and happy, and without a care, save what arose from anxiety 
 regarding the safety of his absent son. Nor was the fosterer 16ss 
 gratified by the further tidings of the stranger. His mistress w%as 
 looking better than she had ever done — at least, such was the village 
 report — and but a week ago, it was whispered that she had declined 
 the hand of the wealthiest farmer in the neighbourhood. The colour 
 mounted to the lover's cheek. To hear that his mistress was fairer 
 than before, was flattering to his pride — but to find her constancy 
 un(;hangeable, was incense to the heart. 
 
 The lights were sparkling in the village casements before the 
 travellers reached the termination of the pathway — and liawlings with 
 his companion passed through the gaixlen by a private wicket, and 
 unobserved, reached the rear of his fiither's cottage. The security 
 and confidence ever felt in dwellings '• far from town," were here ap- 
 parent — for the window of the little parlour was neither protected by 
 shutter or curtain from theft or curiosity ; and while the retired 
 soldier luxuriated with his pipe, his pretty daughter was engaged in 
 plying her needle busily, in perfect unconsciousness that the eyes of a 
 lover were gazing fondly on her from without. 
 
 " Heaven bless yebotli I" ejaculated the warm-hearted sailor, "We 
 must not appear too suddenly ; come, we'll step over to the Lion, and 
 send the landlady across to tell father and sister that the wanderers 
 are returned." 
 
406 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 William RaAvlings was the pride of the village ; every rustic 
 coquette was flattered by his preference ; and it was said that it was 
 rather out of pique than love, that the miller's pretty daughter had 
 listened to the suit of the jolly landlord of " the Lion." Certain it is, 
 that her reception of the handsome sailor was much more ardent, than 
 what he of the spigot would have approved, had he been a witness to 
 the unexpected meeting. 
 
 " Why, William, art thee alive, man ?" 
 
 " Alive, girl ; ay, and likely to live. I need not ask thee for Julia 
 and the old man— I had a peep at both through the parlour window. 
 Step over, dear Betsey, and let them quietly know that here I am, 
 sound as British oak, and an old comrade along with me." 
 
 " Lord ! they will be so overjoyed," exclaimed the hostess, as she 
 skipped across the street, and knocked at the old quarter-master's 
 hall -door. 
 
 "Ah! Betsey, is it thou?" said the veteran, as he knocked the 
 ashes from his pipe, and held his hand out to the visitor. " What 
 news, my girl ? — girl — no, no — I must call thee dame now." 
 
 " Look in my face," returned the pretty hostess, " canst thou not 
 read good tidings there ? " 
 
 " What mean ye, Betsey ?" inquired the old man's daughter. 
 
 " Mean ? — nothing but what I say ; I am the bearer of the best 
 news you have listened to for the last six months." 
 i' *' Is it adght concerning my boy ?" exclaimed the excited quarter- 
 master. 
 
 " Yes — William is alive and well ; and of that an old friend of his, 
 who stopped just now at the Lion, will give you presently, a full 
 assurance." 
 
 " Heaven, I thank thee ! " said the old man, as he reverently raised 
 his eyes, and poured the brief offering of gratitude warmly from a 
 surcharged heart. 
 
 " Don't be surprised at — " 
 
 " His return !" exclaimed the other female. " Is he come home ? 
 Betsey — dear Betsey — end this suspense, and make us too, too happy." 
 
 " Certainly," said the fair hostess, " the sailor across the street is 
 very like your brother." 
 
 " Oh ! I will fly to him," exclaimed the old man's daughter, as she 
 rushed towards the door — but in the passage her farther progress was 
 arrested — a man clasped her in his lusty embrace, and covered her lips 
 with kisses. 
 
 " William, dear Wilham— " 
 
 " Julia — my darling sister." 
 
 " Said I not truly," observed the pretty hostess, " that I brought 
 you joyous news ? " 
 
 Next moment the wanderer was kneehng at his father's feet ; and 
 that night, had Britain been searched through, a happier family could 
 not have been discovered. 
 
 " And now that I have a chance of getting a civil answer, may I ask 
 who that handsome young soldier is ? I hope he is going to stop at 
 the Lion for awhile. It would be a pleasure to serve a good-looking 
 
HECTOR o'HALLORAX. 407 
 
 fellow like your friend, after being plagued waiting on frumpy farmer?, 
 and answering beer-drinking boors." 
 
 ••' Why, Mistress Betsey, that same well-featured youth is a trusty 
 comrade of my own, and a sworn friend of a wild Irishman my 
 sister is slightly acquainted with, — a gentleman called Mark Antony 
 O'Toole." 
 
 The name seemed to have a 'magical effect. Julia's cheeks, in a 
 moment, were dyed with blushes — a heavy sigh involuntarily escaped 
 — a tear trembled in her eye — and a looker-on would have been dull 
 indeed, who could not have read the secret of her love. 
 
 " Ah ! " said the landlady archly, " no wonder Frank Robinson was 
 reiected. So, Mistress Julia, and you Avould not confide in your old 
 schoolfellow, and tell her you were over head and ears in love." 
 
 " He is to be our guest for a few days — longer, probably, if you 
 ■will make yourself agreeable. Julia, are you not obliged to me, my 
 lair sister, not only for bringing myself safely back, but also for 
 coming home provided with a brother-in-law, if you will only let me 
 recommend a husband to you. — Nay, dear Julia, no tears — I but jest, 
 you know, and would not wound thy feelings for the world. I will 
 go over for my friend.—" He said, and left the room, accompanied by 
 the pretty hostess. The old man resumed his pipe ; and poor Julia 
 ascended to her own apartment, to bless Heaven for the restoration 
 of a brother — and weep, were the truth known, for the absence of 
 one even still dearer to her heart. 
 
 Five minutes passed — the hall door opened — she heard the well- 
 known voice of the wanderer inquire for her, and presently footsteps 
 were heard upon the stairs. 
 
 " Juha — what moping here, and not down to oifer a welcome to my 
 friend! Well, I must fetch thee, girl 1" and William Rawlings un- 
 closed the door. She started — the stranger was beside him— and she 
 turned a look of displeasure and surprise on the thoughtless mariner. 
 
 " Nay, don't look mailin-spikes at me, Julia. Here is the real 
 oiFender." 
 
 One glance, and the secret was disclosed. With a face beaming 
 T.ith delight, and eyes more brilliant now, 
 
 " For having lost their hght awhile," 
 
 she sprang into the fosterer's amis. The vows of simple but 
 ardent love were mutually interchanged anew — and that night the 
 happiest family in Sussex would have been found circling the quarter- 
 master's parlour fire. 
 
 ****** 
 
 The clock was striking two, when the steward, after leaving his 
 horse in the stables of Clifford Park, walked hastily to the hall, and 
 admitted liimself by means of a private key, to the wing of the build- 
 ing occupied by the confessor and himself. On looking towards the 
 chamber of the priest, as Morley approached the mansion, a thin stream 
 of light escaped from an opening in the shutters, and told that the holy 
 occupant had not yet retired to his pillow. The stewai-d tapped 
 gently at the churchman's door, which was opened by the occupant 
 
408 THE FORTUNES OF 
 
 himself. Within, the room was in manifest confusion — several trunks 
 and boxes were being packed — the grate was filled with the remains 
 of burnt papers — and it was quite evident that the confessor was 
 making such pi-eparations as foreboded an immediate departure. 
 
 " How now, Morley, — What news ? Has aught occurred since 
 noon?" inquired the churchman. 
 
 " I have determined to run the risk, and nothing now can change 
 this resolution. The arrangements are completed. To-morrow 
 night—" 
 
 " Nay," said the confessor — " I neither wish, nor will know any 
 thing of what is to happen to-morrow. It is enough for me to know 
 what has occurred this afternoon." 
 
 " Has any thing important taken place ? " asked the steward. 
 
 '' Yes — two persons arrived this evening. They sleep to-night in 
 the house. One I know to be Mr. Clifford's legal adviser. The 
 other I fancy is to be the successor to yourself." 
 
 "Tome?" exclaimed Morley in astonishment. "No, no! holy 
 father I That will not be so hastily decided as you imagine." 
 
 " Well — a short time will settle the question. After the strangers 
 had been closeted with the old man for an hour, I framed an excuse, 
 and requested to speak to Mr. Clifford for a minute. An answer was 
 returned that he was engaged particularly, and orders issued that 
 none should intrude upon him. There is a change indeed. /, re- 
 fused admittance, who for years was constant at his side even as a 
 shadow. /, who hitherto dictated who should bd received and who 
 rejected ! Saints and angels ! I can scarcely believe the thing 
 myself." 
 
 The steward had listened with an expression of countenance, which 
 evinced a sort of stupid incredulity. " Father, are we both awake ?" 
 he iuquii-ed with a sickly smile, that betrayed the inward workings 
 of a bosom racked with disappointment and despair. 
 
 " Mine, Morley," returned the confessor coldly, " are the acts of a 
 man fully awake to coming events. No papers shall rise in judg- 
 ment against me;" and he pointed to the fire-place — " and, as you 
 may perceive, I am preparing for a long journey on sudden notice. 
 Have you been in your room since your return ? I fancy you will 
 find there a document laid upon your table." 
 
 The steward instantly retired — his absence was short, and he 
 entered the priest's apartment with an open letter in his hand. 
 
 " Even so" — and his white lips quivered as he spoke — " 'Tis from 
 the old man — brief, but to the jiurpose — I am rudely discharged, 
 and — " 
 
 " Directed to give an account of your stewardship," continued the 
 priest ; " which may not exactly be convenient. What do you pur- 
 pose doing ? " 
 
 " Avenge myself, holy father — leave Clifford Hall ' a house of 
 mourning' and, through the son, strike the cold dotard to the heart. 
 Yes, if ruin impends on me, I shall involve others in the vortex. 
 This time to-morrow, the stern old man who turns me as contemptu- 
 ously away as I would spurn a beggar from the gate, shall be, what 
 
HECTOH OHALLORAN. 409 
 
 tlirono-li life, and by my agency, lie lias been — childless. — Fare- 
 well!" 
 
 He said, and left the apartment. 
 
 ****** 
 
 It is asserted that excessive joy, like agonizinj; sorrow, equally drives 
 sleep away. AMien I retired to my couch, happiness and hope reigned 
 in my bosom — and yet my dreams were light, my slumbers sound. I 
 was eai'ly astir — but others were earlier still — and when I entered the 
 parlour, I found the family party already collected. 
 
 Like all other breakfasts, ours ended in due course ; the ladies 
 retired ; and Mr. Clifford, the Colonel, and myself, adjourned to the 
 lawn, and there held a walking consultation. In fact, with his customary 
 decision, my uncle had already made his dispositions. The intended 
 bravos were denounced to tlie police ; and at the very moment we 
 were talking matters over on the lawn, Mr. Morley's agents were in 
 close custody in London. 
 
 It was necessary that another day should pass, before Mr. Clifford 
 deemed it expedient to throw off his incognito. It wore away. At 
 Bromley Park the inmates Avere variously employed: — my uncle, in 
 carrying out his successful arrangements ; my father, in ascertaining 
 whether a false attack on the sea-face of San Sebastian might not 
 have operated as an effective diversion ; my mother, I suspect, in 
 offering additional prayers to Heaven for my safe return ; and Isidora 
 and myself — but, pshaw ! the communings of young hearts were never 
 
 intended for revealment. — 
 
 ****** 
 
 Again the scene must change. At Clifford Hall the presence of 
 two strangers was unusual; and, in that dull and sleepy establishment, 
 that trifling event had occasioned some sensation. "When morning 
 advanced, the surprise of the household was considerably increased. 
 The confessor had disappeared, having removed all his baggage, none 
 knew where or how. The steward was also missing, but his apartments 
 were in their customary state ; and as he frequently left the hall for 
 days together in course of duty, his absence occasioned no particular 
 surprise. The churchman had departed for the continent two hours 
 before the steward quitted Clifford Park, and, as it was fated, neither 
 re-entered the domain gates after they had passed them. 
 
 It would appear, that when he found his former friend and coun- 
 sellor had left him to his resources, all Morley's self-possession 
 vanished, and his future actions seemed rather the results of sudden 
 impulse than of deliberate forethouglit. Without any lixed object, 
 he took the road to London ; and that, too, by circuitous routes, which 
 rendered the journey unnecessarily tedious. Although his general 
 habits were temperate, he made frequent halts at road-side houses, and 
 drank freely where he stopped. It was late when he reached the 
 metropolis— and on his arrival in the Borough, he put up his horse at 
 an obscure inn, took some refreshment, ordered a bed he never occu- 
 pied ; for, as it afterwards appeared, he spent the night rambling 
 tlirough the streets, or drinking in low houses only frequented by the 
 vicious and the destitute. God knows what the wretched man's feel- 
 
410 THE FORTUNES CF 
 
 ings were ! He then believed that a foul act was doing, or had been 
 done ; and it is hard to say, whether remorse for having caused the 
 deed, or a savage exultation at its fancied accomplishment, had fevered 
 his guilty soul, and, like another Cain, " murdered sleep," and when 
 innocence reposes, made him a wretched wanderer. 
 
 Morning came, and at the appointed hour named to meet his myi*- 
 midons, the steward repaired to the place of rendezvous. He hastened 
 on, as he believed, to learn the death of his victim; but it was only to 
 hurry his own guilty career to its close. The wretched man, in 
 thieves' parlance, was " regularly planted." The moment they found 
 themselves in custody, the ruffians (both returned convicts) admitted 
 their intended crime, and gave ample information by which theii* 
 employer should be detected. It was arranged by the officers that 
 Morley should be received by one of the ruffians, at the public-house 
 where the meeting had been appointed — and, apparently blind to 
 danger, the steward entered the tap and passed through into a back 
 room, which had been notified to him as the place Avhere his sangui- 
 nary associates would be found in waiting. 
 
 The room was squalid in appearance, ill-lighted, and in every 
 respect a fitting place for villains to frequent. At a dark corner he 
 perceived the larger ruffian at a table — and, what rather startled him 
 at first, a stranger seated at his side. A brief conversation, however, 
 explained the matter. " The other cove had shyed when it came to the 
 point, and he had to call on a trusty pal, the gentleman wot sate 
 beside him." Thoroughly deceived, Morley fell into the trap laid 
 for him, without harbouring a suspicion — listened with manifest satis- 
 faction to a fabricated detail of the imaginary assassination — handed 
 to the murderer the price of blood — and was about to leave the room, 
 when the confederate ruffian struck a heavy blow upon the table with 
 a pewter measure — announced that he was a Bow-street runner, and 
 Morley his prisoner. Then turning to the dooi", he repeated the 
 signal a second time. It was answered — three officers came in. 
 
 Although astounded at the occurrence, the steward came to a 
 sudden and desperate determination. The ruffian, hardened as he was, 
 turned his eyes away in another direction from his victim — and, taking 
 advantage of the momentary absence of the officer at the door, when 
 summoning his fellows from below, Morley unperceived, took a small 
 phial from his pocket, and swallowed the contents. He was instantly 
 secured and searched — a large sum in money taken from his person — 
 the handcuffs were being put on, which were to bind him for a time 
 to the returned convict — the wretch who had betrayed him, — when 
 suddenly, his look became fixed and glassy — his face livid — he reeled 
 into the arms of an officer, and next moment, sank on the floor a 
 corpse. 
 
HECTOR o'HALLORAN. 411 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 " All tragedies are finish'd by a death, 
 All .comedies are ended by a marriage " 
 
 Don Juan. 
 
 The second week of October was beautiful. The woods were 
 tinted with the varied hues which autumn interposes between " summer 
 green," and " snow clad winter." The sun shone brightly — the birds 
 sang — the bells rang out a merry peal — and a bridal, in long array, 
 swept through the long avenue of Chfford Park, and approached the 
 village church. The road was crowded with all the rustic population 
 of the neighbourhood — and, while the men hurraed, the girls spread 
 flowers along the churchyard path, when the young and beautiful 
 bride left the carriage at the gate, and advanced to the portal of the 
 sacred edifice. She reached the altar leaning on her lover's arm — 
 and there, encouraged by the approving smiles of happy relatives and 
 surrounded by a gaily di'cssed cortege of bridal attendants, inter- 
 changed her vows of constancy, and bestowed her plighted hand upon 
 the youth who knelt beside her. The surpliced priest pronounced his 
 benison, and closed the book — the holy ceremony was over — but an 
 interesting scene remained. An aged man, on whose head the snows 
 of eighty winters rested, had sate beside the altar in a chair, while 
 the sacred rite was celebrated. When the churchman's blessing died 
 away in the echo of the distant aisle, the old man signalled the young 
 couple to approach him ; they knelt at the feet of their venerable 
 relation, who laid a hand upon either head, and with eyes devoutly 
 up-turned, invoked Heaven's protection upon his darling children. 
 
 The blesser was Mr. CliiFord — the blessed ones, Isidora and myself. 
 
 ****** 
 
 A second time the sun had circled the earth, and the same season 
 had returned. Again the village bells were rung, and the park of 
 Chfford Hall was crowded with tenants and villagers — that day 
 it was the scene of rejoicing and festivity — an heir was born to the 
 ancient name — and the baptismal ceremony was being performed 
 within the hall, in presence of a goodly assemblage. From the font, 
 the infant was carried in the arms of his young and happy mother to 
 an easy chair, where a venerable man was seated. She knelt and 
 inAjoked liis blessing ; and, upon the heads of two generations the old 
 
412 THE FORTUNES OF HECTOR o'hALLORAN. 
 
 man's hands were laid, wliile liis lips poured fortli an ardent bene- 
 diction. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Again the year came round. It was later in tlie season, for withered 
 leaves were spi-ead thickly on the ground, a mute but striking type of 
 life's decay. Slow and heavily the village bell was tolling — death was 
 in Clifford Hall, and its owner Avas about to be carried to the tomb, 
 where his forefathers were sleeping. Ripe for the grave — surrounded 
 by those he loved — cheered by the consolations of religion, Mr. Clif- 
 ford had calmly slumbered life away — his head pillowed on a daughter's 
 bosom — his hand pressed gently within the grasp of a son, from whom 
 ibr five-and-thirty years he had been alienated. 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 The stranger who passes through the domain of Clifford Hall, will 
 occasionally encounter a hale, stout, white-headed man, in leathers and 
 gambroon, with a gun under his arm, and two Scotch terriers at his 
 heels. That personage was once intituled Shemus Rhua — but years 
 have spoiled the sobriquet. At the back gate there is a picturesque 
 cottage, with a flower-garden attached, and filled with bee-hives. 
 There a handsome old woman will present herself, attended by a 
 village girl. She bears the appearance of a faithful servant, who has 
 retired with every comfort. That old woman was once Ellen — or the 
 gipsy, as you please. 
 
 In the immediate front of the Hall, two elderly personages may be 
 daily noticed. One — stout, stooped, very gray, and very intelligent- 
 looking — that is mine uncle. Another — spare, slight, and with a Iiead 
 erect as if he intended to throw Father Time off his shoulders, should he 
 presume to invade them — his empty sleeve perfects the identity. 
 Need I name my father ? 
 
 One more group remains. A middle-aged gentleman, and a lady, 
 rich in the beauty of middle life— a throng of children, that would throw 
 Harriet Martineau into hysterics, gambol round them, while a hand- 
 some old gentlewoman, whom they term " grandmama," superintends 
 their movements. If you cannot guess who they are — why go up to 
 the steward's house upon the hill — and Mr. O'Toole, or his pretty wife, 
 Avill inform you. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 R. CLAY, PRINTEK, Bni;AD STREET HILL. 
 
W-