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THE 
 
 DENOUNCED 
 
 AUTHORS OF " TALES BY THE O'HARA FAMILY 
 
 bright o'er the flood 
 
 Of her tears and her blood, 
 
 Let the rainbow of hope be her Wellington's Name. 
 
 Thomas Mo(jrb. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY, 
 
 NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 1830. 
 
LONDON : 
 PHINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEV, 
 
 Dorset Street, Fleet Street. 
 
 t^H 
 
ez3 
 
 ■ ' Si- 
 
 TO 
 
 HIS GRACE 
 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON, 
 
 THESE TALES, 
 
 MOST GRATEFULLY, 
 
 AND MOST RESPECTFULLY, 
 
 ARE INSCRIBED. 
 
TO THE READER. 
 
 Some old laws, and fashioned by them, his- 
 tory and tradition, gave hints for the following 
 tales ; and those hints were taken up in the 
 spirit of mere story-telling ; that is, as keys 
 to feeling and passion, in certain states of ex- 
 citement. 
 
 For the sake of the plausible, however, it 
 was foreseen to be necessary that allusions 
 should be made to the old laws themselves. 
 Hence arose a consideration, how far such allu- 
 sions might affect, without the will or seeking 
 of the writers, a question at that time debated ; 
 and it seemed certain, according to the opinions 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 of competent friends, that if no prejudice in- 
 terfered with the indispensable task, harm could 
 scarce be done. 
 
 Accordingly our tales were begun ; and they 
 had drawn to a close, when the question allud- 
 ed to became unexpectedly decided. 
 
 As regarded the point first mooted, we could 
 now do neither good nor harm. A new appre- 
 hension troubled us, however. It would not 
 be difficult, we thought, in the changed aspect 
 of affairs, to apply to the allusions spoken of 
 as necessarily existing in our pages, such cri- 
 ticism as — " continuing prejudices," " opening 
 wounds afresh," &c. 
 
 We answer by anticipation, that if we be- 
 lieved these tales calculated to wound a single 
 generous feeling, or to fix a single prejudice, we 
 would destroy them, rather than publish them. 
 To guard against any such chance, after the 
 late great decision, we carefully and anxiously 
 reviewed them, remodelled them, — in fact, re- 
 
PREFACE. VU 
 
 wrote them, (and therefore they come tardily 
 before the public.) Supposing our endeavours 
 not to have proved literally successful, let the 
 will be taken for the deed, and let our good 
 friend (imagined) only point out a passage hos- 
 tile to peace among all men, and that passage 
 shall be expunged. 
 
 But assuredly we fight with a shadow in- 
 deed. It is not in the present day, when the 
 musty folios of penal enactment have become 
 so much lumber, that the honest tale-writer is 
 to be forbidden such introductions as they can 
 give him to the fortunes and the manners, the 
 hearts and the firesides of a hundred and thirty 
 years ago. 
 
 If, however, our stories are to be read with 
 any feeling except that of reading a story, such 
 feeling, in the breast of The Lately-Made-Free, 
 will surely amount to no more than gratitude 
 to God and to Man for his own escape from the 
 shackles worn by his forefathers ; and in the 
 
vm PREFACE. 
 
 breast of the reader who still honestly disap- 
 proves of the slave's enfranchisement, perhaps a 
 glance over the old rusty chain of legal disa- 
 bility, may help to banish even his regret that 
 he has lived to see broken its last festering links. 
 
THE 
 
 LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 TALE I. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
THE 
 
 LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The battle of Aughram had been proceeding 
 from daybreak till six o'clock, and was still un- 
 decided, although victory seemed wavering to 
 the side of the unhappy Stuart. His French 
 commander-in-chief, the brave and experienced, 
 though conceited, St. Rothe, with a force much 
 inferior in discipline to that which he opposed, 
 had repulsed the whole day the charges of 
 Ginkle's veteran army, made up of troops of 
 many warlike nations. St. Rothe's excellent 
 position greatly assisted the desperate courage 
 of his native Irish soldiers. 
 
 In his front, which fully occupied an unequal 
 and broken hill, stretched a bog, scarce pass- 
 B 2 
 
4 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 able : his right was strongly entrenched ; his 
 left rested on the castle of Aughram. The 
 cavalry of William repeatedly failed in their 
 attempts to force either of the two last-men- 
 tioned points ; and his infantry were equally 
 unsuccessful in trying to shake the former. 
 
 As twilight drew on, Ginkle prepared to pause 
 or retire ; but a second and more fortunate 
 thought prompted him to order a fresh assault, 
 covered and supported by field-pieces, upon the 
 Irish right. His historians say, that " it was 
 not without the most surprising efforts of cou- 
 rage and perseverance they at length obliged 
 the enemy to give ground, who, even then, lost 
 it by inches.'^ St. Rothe detached succours from 
 his centre and his left to assist the disputed 
 point. His antagonist, observing this move- 
 ment, ordered the positions so weakened to be 
 also attacked, and again the battle became 
 general. 
 
 While the discharges of artillery shrouded 
 the combatants at the wing which it was 
 brought to attack, Dutch, English, Danish, and 
 French Huguenot cavalry were seen, at full gal- 
 lop skirting the edge of the bog, to charge the 
 left of the opposite army ; and long lines of in- 
 
THE LAST BARON OP CRANA. 5 
 
 fantry, broken and straggling, and wading 
 breast-high through water and mud, appeared, 
 making slow and toilsome way over the morass, 
 bent upon a final and desperate onset on St. 
 Rothe's centre. These last continued distinctly 
 visible until they gained the base of the con- 
 fronting eminence ; for, owing to the difficulties 
 and labour of their progress, no smoke from 
 their own firelocks enveloped them. But the 
 enemy they struggled to reach did not remain 
 so exposed to view. Almost without a chance 
 of retaliation, they discharged well-aimed vol- 
 leys at their brave enemies, of which the thick 
 white smoke soon hid their whole bodv ; and 
 the fierce flash, flash, unceasingly darting out 
 of the opaque vapour, and the frequent breaks 
 thereby occasioned in the tortuous line of the 
 assaulters, alone told, like thousands of fiery 
 tongues, that death dwelt within the cloud which 
 sat on Kircommadon-hill. 
 
 It was now indeed a scene of quick and 
 sharp action, and of panting interest ; and the 
 dulled sun seemed fitly preparing to sink be- 
 hind Aughram castle, amid black wreaths of 
 vapour, which waited to eclipse him, as the 
 issue of the struggle he overlooked was doomed 
 
6 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 to obscure the fortijnes of one or other of the 
 princes in whose names arose the shouts of 
 onslaught. 
 
 It has not been intended to attempt a full or 
 detailed picture of the celebrated battle of 
 Aughram. Allusion is made to it only for the 
 purpose of distinguishing among the melee, at 
 a particular moment, two rival combatants ; 
 and the reader now arrives, by this hasty and 
 partial sketch, at the point of time required. 
 
 The attack of Ginkle's cavalry upon the Irish 
 left had failed. The infantry sent through the 
 bog effected, notwithstanding the accumulated 
 impediments of their way, a landing at the 
 base of Kincommadon-hill, and charged up to 
 St. Rothe^s centre. The rugged eminence was 
 crossed with hedges and ditches, occupied by 
 musketry, and they were quickly driven back, 
 however, dispirited, and at a great loss. The 
 Irish pursued them half-way across the morass, 
 and, better acquainted with the difficulties of 
 the ground, continued to inconvenience tfiem. 
 Shouts of triumph arose over the hill ; and 
 while Ginkle's army remained silent, St. Rothe 
 seemed preparing, by a general movement, 
 to, as he vauntingly expressed it, " drive the 
 English to the gates of Dublin." 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 7 
 
 The affair in the morass became a mere scram- 
 ble; man encountering man, and almost by 
 strength of hand alone, deciding each other's 
 fate. Indeed, few but the officers of either side 
 could set their chance of life and death upon a 
 more warlike struggle ; they however, still able 
 to use a sword above their heads, although sunk 
 in mud and water, often met in gallant en- 
 counter. From amongst others are selected an 
 officer of one of Sarsfield*'s regiments, on the Irish 
 side, and an officer of the Enniskilleners, on the 
 English side. The former was a man of advan- 
 ced age; the latter some ten years younger. 
 When they singled each other out in the middle 
 of the bog, these antagonists had just partially 
 extricated themselves from deep immersion in a 
 pool, and stood, front to front, foot to foot, eve 
 to eye, point to point, upon the only compara- 
 tively firm patch of soil within some distance. 
 Uttering no language save that conveyed in the 
 mutual flashing of their eyes, their swords in- 
 stantly crossed and clattered. After a few par- 
 ries, the Enniskillener, by an oblique up-cut, 
 struck off the Jacobite's perforated iron cap, or 
 " pott," and quickly following up his success, 
 slightly wounded him through the folding skirt 
 of his highly- wrought buff coat, in the right 
 
8 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 thigh. This fired as well as made free with the 
 Milesian's blood, and furiously closing his ene- 
 my, he struck the sword from his hand, and 
 pushed him on his knees. " Rescue or no, my 
 prisoner !" then cried the victor. 
 
 " Quarter or no quarter, still your mortal 
 foe !"" answered the half-prostrate man. 
 
 " Say not the words again,'* resumed the 
 Irish officer, raising his sword ; " the times sel- 
 dom afford the choice I tender you ; besides, 
 look over the bog — the day is ours." 
 
 " It shall never be yours, slavish Papist !" 
 persisted the vanquished Enniskillener. 
 
 '* Nor yours, then, false traitor !" retorted the 
 other, and he drew back his arm to prepare it 
 for a thrust. Meantime, many soldiers of his 
 regiment had gathered round, and, half-way 
 raised above the morass, looked on in ti'iumph. 
 The prisoner suddenly sprang upon his captor, 
 and seized his right arm ; they closed, wrestled, 
 and Sarsfield's officer was flung off the patch of 
 turfy soil into the black water. When he re- 
 covered his momentary confusion, he saw that 
 his men had seized upon his antagonist, and 
 were proceeding to dispatch him. A sudden 
 recollection of the Enniskillener 's bravery arous- 
 ed his soldierlike feelings, and he cried out, in 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 9 
 
 tones of command and threat, to have the offi- 
 cer's life saved ; at the same time scrambling 
 amongst them, and forcing the men from their 
 prey. 
 
 " Well, I am your prisoner now, and on 
 your own terms,""* said the rescued man; 
 •' though I little thought that a Jacobite could 
 ever make me say so." 
 
 " Or I, that any abettor of the Dutchman 
 could so well deserve the honour of being pro- 
 tected by Sir Redmond O'Burke," replied his 
 captor. 
 
 " We have heard of you, Sir Redmond,'" and 
 the conquered party slightly touched his hat ; 
 " My name is Miles Pendergast, of Pendergast- 
 hall."" 
 
 " A stout rebel, as I have ever heard, and, 
 as I now bear witness, a courageous gentle- 
 man,'" replied Sir Redmond, bowing a return to 
 Pendergast's salute : " but we waste some time 
 here ; I crave your company back to the hill, 
 whence, after safely and honourably bestowing 
 you, I may again engage in my duties."" 
 
 " Come — but it seems like as if some new for- 
 tune has chanced,"" said Captain Pendergast, 
 looking around him, at all sides. 
 
 " Oh, nothing but King James"s army in 
 B 5 
 
10 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 full motion to pursue your general," answered 
 Sir Redmond. 
 
 " Nay, by St. George, you mistake now V 
 continued the prisoner, his manly eye and cheek 
 glowing with the reflux of hope and antici- 
 pation. 
 
 He augured aright. The tide of battle had 
 again turned. An ally of Ginkle arrived un- 
 expectedly upon the field, rallied the broken 
 and retreating soldiers, once more urged them 
 across the bog, and the Irish were now flying in 
 their turn back to Kircommadon-hill ; flying, in- 
 deed, although the military word, is a bad one 
 to describe their progress through the morass. 
 
 " I am mistaken, truly," said Sir Redmond 
 O'Eurke, as irregular groups of his own men 
 floundered past them, pronouncing the word, 
 '' reinforcement V 
 
 " And what now. Captain Pender gast ?" 
 
 *' Your prisoner, still, according to the 
 terms,'" answered Pendergast ; " and let us 
 gain your position while we can do so, in com- 
 pany with your own soldiers." 
 
 " Agreed ; but must it indeed be in their 
 company.'^" looking anxiously and spiritedly over 
 the bog towards Giukle's side of it; ''Must 
 the fellows return with us ? can they not be ral- 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 11 
 
 lied ?'' he continued, talking to himself ; " Halt ! 
 stand ! but no ;" the fugitives increased in 
 numbers, and pressed on to the hill with greater 
 energy ; and the shouts of the English rose 
 high, and came near. " No, not this moment ; 
 — so, come, Sir !'' 
 
 The English and the Irish officer gained the 
 eminence that arose almost from the verge of 
 the morass; here they found the soldiers who 
 had passed them, again formed in steady array ; 
 those who arrived with them rapidly fell in with 
 their comrades ; others, who every instant fol- 
 lowed, as readily re-occupied their former 
 posts ; an infantry reserve, who had not quitted 
 the hill, joined all ; and in a very short space 
 of time, a formidable centre was once more op- 
 posed to the renewed attack of the English 
 force. 
 
 " I fear you cannot get out of danger till 
 this fresh bout be over," said Sir Redmond to 
 his prisoner : " yonder is my regiment, and if 
 I defer joining it, in order to place you at the 
 rear, 'tis like to have the honour of a tenth time 
 helping to check the Dutchman, without my 
 humble aid — See ! here splash your friends, by 
 Heaven and good St. Patrick ! Provide for 
 yourself, Sir!" and Sir Redmond, cheering, 
 
12 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 and waving his sword, ran to head his little 
 band, who received him with answering cheers. 
 
 Captain Pendergast's first impulse, at being 
 thus left alone, almost at the base of the emi- 
 nence, and some distance from the Irish centre, 
 was to rush to meet his friends at the verge of 
 the bog, which the foremost of them had already 
 gained. But a manly sense of honour forbade 
 him, when he recollected the pledge he had 
 given to his captor ; and gratitude for life pre- 
 served at that captor's hands, farther determined 
 him to act a neutral part. His next anxiety 
 was, naturally enough, to remove himself out 
 of peril from a contest in which he could take 
 no share ; and, glancing around him, he jumped 
 into a ditch, now unoccupied by the Irish, and 
 removed from the course which, most probably, 
 the English army would take in their charge 
 up the hill. 
 
 But he could observe, conveniently and with- 
 out notice, from his position in the ditch, all 
 that followed. Nor had he to wait long for 
 matter to interest him. For at least the tenth 
 time, as Sir Redmond O'Burke had intimated, 
 Ginkle"'s infantry, now chiefly composed of fresh 
 men, bounded out of the morass, and scrambled, 
 shouting, up to the Irish centre. They were 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 13 
 
 received with undiminished fury and bravery, 
 and repulsed more than once, although now 
 their opponents did not quit the hill to pursue 
 them. The adverse lines often intermixed how- 
 ever, and pressed each other back and forward, 
 on the contested ground, sometimes coming 
 close upon Pendergasfs place of concealment. 
 At last, he recognised the regiment which Sir 
 Redmond had pointed out as his, hastily occu- 
 pying a position very near to the ditch, in order, 
 along with others, to prepare for continued 
 contest ; and he could see that officer waving his 
 hat to his men, and hear him exhorting them to 
 stand fast. Simultaneously, cheers, that he 
 knew to be from his friends, arose upon the 
 Irish left ; and, in a few minutes, an aid-de-camp 
 rode up to Sir Redmond O'Burke, bearing him 
 orders to fall back to his first position, and help 
 to concentrate the centre; adding, that some 
 cavalry had just turned their left, and were ad- 
 vancing, along the edge of the bog, to support 
 Ginkle's infantry : " When your lads are in line, 
 Sir," continued the aid-dc-camp, " the Com- 
 mander-in-chief would speak with you ; and 
 think nothing of this. Sir Redmond ; the day is 
 ours yet ;" and he rode off. 
 
 While Sir Redraond'*s regiment was in the 
 
14) THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 act of wheeling round to obey, at his word of 
 command, the orders received, some of the men 
 spied Captain Pendergast in the ditch, and pre- 
 sented their firelocks at him. He cried out, 
 and again owed his life to the interference of 
 their Captain, who now requested the prisoner 
 to take a place at his side. 
 
 Accordingly, at a brisk pace, Pendergast 
 kept close to his captor. They gained their 
 position; Sir Redmond wheeled his man into 
 line, and then hastily addressed the prisoner : 
 " You will please to give me your company 
 still. Sir ; this message from the general affords 
 me an opportunity of safely disposing of you for 
 the present : pray, dispatch.'' 
 
 The two officers soon cleared the centre, and 
 pushed up the hill beyond them. 
 
 " Yonder is one you have heard of," resumed 
 Sir Redmond, pointing to a general officer who, 
 still some distance above them, seemed anx- 
 iously watching the whole line of battle, sur- 
 rounded by aides-de-camp, and other attendants. 
 " I know his French feathers,'' answered Pen- 
 dergast : " Is your Sarsfield here ?'''' 
 
 " Second in command, to-day," replied Sir 
 Redmond, " and managing the right yonder : 
 but, credit me, not to be found close in com- 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 15 
 
 pany with St. Rothe : they have never agreed 
 well, St. Rothe is so high, or my Lord Lucan 
 so plain-spoken ; and last night, especially, 'tis 
 known they quarrelled outright." 
 
 " At an unlucky hour for them and you. Sir 
 Redmond, if there be luck in united council.'^ 
 
 " It has not yet turned out so," answered Sir 
 Redmond. 
 
 " Well ; but if the Frenchman should go 
 down .?" 
 
 " God forbid. Sir ! for then, I grant you, we 
 should need a successor in command acquainted 
 with his plan." 
 
 This discourse brought them into St. Rothe's 
 presence. After salutations had been inter- 
 changed — "I sent for you. Sir Redmond 
 O'Burke," said the commander-in-chief, " to 
 demand if you can tell us whether the EngHsh 
 centre has been strongly reinforced since its last 
 repulse ?''"' 
 
 Sir Redmond replied that, from all he could 
 learn, it had ; but that it was not now stronger, 
 notwithstanding, than it had been at its first 
 advance. 
 
 " I know not," he continued, " how many 
 horse now hasten to reinforce it, after turning 
 our left." 
 
16 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 " I care not how many, Sir ; I spoke but of 
 infantry : my reserve of horse can well over- 
 match them i—QdSS. them up!" to an aid- de- 
 camp, who immediately spurred down the hill 
 at St Rothe's back : " Here we have double 
 the force, at least, of those you seem to fear, 
 Sir : scarce three thousand, I reckon, come on, 
 after escaping our left — you can see them, Sir, 
 still a good distance beyond the hollow way — 
 scarce three thousand, and I show you six thou- 
 sand ready to spur after me down that hollow 
 way, cut them to pieces, and then turn upon 
 their infantry, and with the help of our own 
 centre destroy the whole English army. — Here 
 come the deciders of the day !" a great body 
 of cavalry filled up the eminence. " To your 
 post. Sir Redmond O'Burke ! — Gallop and follow 
 
 me !" to the reserve — " and " St. Rothe stopt 
 
 speaking. Captain Pendergast, who had been 
 watching the brisk and gallant approach of the 
 English horse, looked up to note why. A 
 shattered and lifeless trunk lay on the ground, 
 at some distance from the prancing steed, which, 
 an instant before, erect, proud, and living, it 
 had bestrode. Pendergast's experience in the 
 field informed him that it was a random cannon- 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 17 
 
 shot which had thus ended the boastings of St. 
 Rothe. 
 
 The reserve of horse, of which each man had 
 just been about to spur his charger, and shake 
 the bridle round his neck, paused, and looked 
 on in consternation. ^lany precious moments 
 were thus lost. 
 
 " Sarsfield ! Sarsfield, to lead us down !" at 
 length cried a veteran officer, and the well-be- 
 loved name was repeated by hundreds, although 
 in a tone that bespoke an ominous decrease of 
 spirit. 
 
 " Ay, now comes the question you and I de- 
 bated, Sir Redmond,'^ said Pendergast. 
 
 An aid-de-camp had, however, gone off at 
 headlong speed to summon the new command- 
 er-in-chief from the right wing. Meantime, Sir 
 Redmond O'Burke, after delivering his prisoner 
 into proper care, hastened to his own regiment. 
 Pendergast continued observant, his situation 
 enabling him to be so. The chill that had 
 fallen upon the reserve of horse, at the sudden 
 and shocking death of St. Rothe, increased every 
 moment. They recollected the want of concert 
 between the two generals, and their apprehen- 
 sions of Sarsfield, brave as he was, not knowing 
 
IB THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 what to do in this emergency, consistently with 
 the arrangements and intents of his haughty 
 superior, were expressed to one another in mut- 
 terings loud enough for Pendergast to overhear. 
 The pause itself, at the very moment of excite- 
 ment, disheartened them. And added to this, 
 there came up to them from the base and middle 
 of the eminence, a swelling tumult, which their 
 doubts readily construed into the worst omen. 
 So that when Sarsfield at last appeared pushing 
 to their position by the aid-de-camp's side, 
 talking eagerly, and showing unusual agitation, 
 the men had lost all the spirit necessary to 
 make their force effective. 
 
 " Turned our left, you say ! I heard not of it," 
 continued Sarsfield, coming nearer : " Where 't 
 who ? Now I see them ! — but they have passed 
 the hollow way you spoke of, and cannot now 
 be intercepted. Ay, and by Heaven are in 
 among our centre ! Come, lads, they shall not 
 have it all as they like it ! Down upon them, 
 by anif way !" 
 
 While he spoke, and spoke without making 
 an impression, the infantry of the Irish centre 
 came in groups up the hill, flying in utter de- 
 feat. The six thousand horse that should have 
 long ago protected them, waited not another 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 19 
 
 moment on the field, but abandoned it without 
 a blow. St. Rothe's death had by this time 
 spread through the whole Irish army, and a 
 general retreat took place; the fugitives, at 
 Sarsfi eld's word, hurrying in confusion towards 
 Limerick. In a short time, Pendergast was 
 alone upon Kircommadon-hill, in the first twi- 
 light of a July evening; for, but a short space 
 elapsed, after the last of the Irish had quitted 
 his side, before the van of the English pressed 
 towards him. 
 
 And by the hands of his own friends he had 
 at last nearly lost his life, so impetuous was 
 their charge, and so questionable his situation. 
 Recognised and safe, however, he ^vas about to 
 move forward with them, when a faint voice 
 pronounced liis name. He turned, and saw Sir 
 Redmond O 'Burke a prisoner, guarded by a 
 detached party, and obviously exhausted, and 
 vmable to use his limbs. In a moment Pen- 
 dergast was at his side, took his hand, and 
 eagerly inquired what services lie could render 
 him ? 
 
 " Thanks," said the bleeding prisoner; " I 
 am very weak, and unable to go on ; entreat 
 your soldiers that I may rest a moment here, in 
 your keeping." 
 
20 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 The request was instantly made and com- 
 plied with. Pendergast caused the wounded 
 man to be borne aside to a spot not exposed to 
 much observation, and detained some soldiers to 
 guard them against intrusion. 
 
 " Thanks, again : this is indeed a favour," 
 resumed Sir Redmond, as he vainly tried to lay 
 his writhing limbs on the grass, in some posi- 
 tion which would not pain them. 
 
 " 'Tis nothing ; I owe you more, much 
 more," answered Pendergast; "only tell me 
 what that much more, and more after it, shall 
 be — what, Sir Redmond ! you change sadly !" 
 
 " Water, a drop of water," murmured the 
 old soldier, in an effort to keep himself from 
 swooning. 
 
 " Water there is none near us ; but make 
 shift with better liquor :" and Pendergast pro- 
 duced a wine-flask and put it to his lips. The 
 dying man drank eagerly. 
 
 " This is loss of blood, not fatigue," con- 
 tinued Pendergast : " you have been on the 
 English bayonets since we parted, Sir Red- 
 mond — you bleed about the body, too." 
 
 " A little, yet enough to let life out : and 
 I do not want it to stay in. Fortune, country, 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 21 
 
 kith, and kin, all but honour is lost. Worth- 
 less life, go you with it." 
 
 " Say not so, brave friend, — for friend I call 
 you, friend I hold you, friend you have been to 
 me ;" and with a manly tear on his lids, Pender- 
 gast clasped Sir Redmond's hand with the clasp 
 that only men can give and take. 
 
 " Well ; and friend I would be called by 
 you," continued Sir Redmond ; " but our 
 friendship will end as quickly as it has begun. 
 Cry not nay, again. Sir," he went on in a 
 changed and broken voice ; " there is that at my 
 heart which needs no earthly comfort, holds no 
 earthly hope. But you have wished to do me a 
 good turn, or rather, to do a good turn to one 
 I shall leave after me, for my sake.*" 
 
 " Your lady.?" inquired Pendergast, after 
 he had watched some time a convulsion in the 
 frame of his new friend, which wholly took 
 away his power of utterance. 
 
 "No! I thank God, no!" cried Sir Red- 
 mond, with unexpected energy ; and it seemed, 
 in the upturning of his eyes to heaven, and in 
 the rapid motion of his parched lips, that he 
 continued to give praise that the partner of his 
 bosom had already been removed from a life 
 
22 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 which, after his death, would have been to her, 
 had she not gone before him, a lot of suffering 
 and bitterness. 
 
 " Then, you have children ?"' continued Pen- 
 dergast, breaking another pause, and willing to 
 assist the dying officer in the expression of his 
 last wishes. 
 
 " I had — four,"" answered Sir Redmond : 
 " four, although I am a man scarce yet stricken 
 in years ; four sons, and three of them able to 
 follow me to the field, for their country, their 
 king, and their religion, at the breaking out of 
 these unnatural wars. But I have them not 
 now. One fell at Hillsboro", where we crushed, 
 with young Hamilton at our head, your great 
 Northern Union at a blow. Sir !" — martial spirit 
 and party pride lit up for a moment the speak- 
 er's eye, and strengthened his tone ; — " and him 
 I did scarcely sorrow for ; — the next, my second, 
 a soldier of nineteen, I saw rolling down with 
 the blood-stained Boyne river ; and my third, 
 not eighteen, sank at my feet to-day, a few mi- 
 nutes after I parted from you : the man who 
 put a bayonet into the boy's heart did so be- 
 cause my poor Felix had struck it aside when 
 it was aimed at his father's, Sir." 
 
 Here Pendergast had to support Sir Red- 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 23 
 
 mond's head, as it fell back from weakness. It 
 was on his tongue to assuage the anguish of the 
 parent's recollections, by informing him that 
 he too had lost a son, and an only one, upon 
 the field that day ; but a reflection that it was 
 his duty not to interrupt the dying man's train 
 of thought by any concerns of his own, checked 
 the words he was about to utter, and caused 
 him to whisper, instead, " But there yet lives 
 a fourth boy ?'' 
 
 •'There does — "' answered Sir Redmond, gasp- 
 ing ; " my youngest — my darling — the last child 
 of his mother ! — and almost a child yet — and 
 friendless — and fortuneless — for all his family 
 are dead, or exiles — or will be — and all his patri- 
 mony seized upon — or run through — lavished 
 upon this cause ; — and I — " Pendergast now felt 
 a strenuous pressure, which the speaker had not 
 before been able to return for his ; then he saw 
 the dread struo:crle ; and after Sir Redmond, 
 writhing round, had said, " Oh, God, be watch- 
 ful over the child here, as I now crave your mercy 
 for myself !'" — Pendergast looked upon a corpse. 
 Long he looked ; and then arising, com- 
 manded the soldiers who stood near to accom- 
 pany him down the hill, and into the bog. His 
 thought was, that he knew where to find the 
 
24 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 body of his own son, for he had seen him fall. 
 He was successful. The men bore it, still at 
 his bidding, back to the spot he had left; and 
 there, almost at the top of the hill, he com- 
 manded them to make a shallow grave. " They 
 shall lie side by side, even upon this field,""' he 
 said to himself, " in earnest of the vow I have 
 vowed to the unuttered w^ish of my former foe, 
 — ay, here shall they lie, forgetful of party ran- 
 cour, as I shall be forgetful of it to this old 
 man"*s only living son : for,*" continued Pender- 
 gast, as he walked away, after the little grave 
 had been filled and raised, " the child shall be 
 my child." 
 
THE LAST BARON OF GHANA. 25 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Captain Pendergast's first impulse was to 
 proceed directly to seek his adopted son ; but 
 the claims of military duty were imperious, 
 and for the present he felt compelled to give up 
 his purpose. 
 
 Immediately after the battle of Aughram, 
 Ginkle sent detachments to reduce and secure 
 important passes on the Shannon ; and in one 
 of those detachments Pendergast's regiment, 
 and necessarily himself, were included. The 
 English general then summoned him to join the 
 main army before Gal way ; and as soon as the 
 town surrendered, Ginkle pursued its garrison 
 to Limerick, whither it had been allowed safe 
 conduct, with the honours of war. Thus Pen- 
 dergast had not a day's respite to undertake a 
 journey, of which the object gradually interest- 
 
 VOL. I. c 
 
26 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 ed him the more, in proportion to the necessity 
 of deferring its accomplishment. 
 
 At length, early in October, he witnessed the 
 ratification of the celebrated treaty, by which 
 the crown of three kingdoms was secured to 
 William III. and the pretensions of that mo- 
 narch"*s father-in-law for ever abandoned by the 
 Irish people. Captain Pendergast., although a 
 staunch foe to Catholic ascendency, and in the 
 field to oppose it, was no extravagant party- 
 man ; no monopolist, sacrificing the sugges- 
 tions of justice and fair- play to selfishness or 
 revenge ; and he therefore rejoiced, rather than 
 felt disappointed, when he saw that, according 
 to the terms of the treaty, the adherents of 
 James Stuart were recognized as an honourable, 
 brave, and important enemy ; conciliated, in 
 proportion to this estimate of their character ; 
 invited to place confidence in their new sove- 
 reign, and left free to unite with their fellow- 
 subjects of all sects, in making Ireland a nation. 
 " Yes," resolved Pendergast ; " let but the spi- 
 rit of this treaty remain among us for one hun- 
 dred years, and all that has yet happened will 
 have happened only for the best."" 
 
 As it seems indispensable that it should be 
 known in the abstract what the treaty of Lime- 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 27 
 
 rick really was, an account of it is here taken 
 from a book in every one's hands. 
 
 " The Roman Catholics were restored to the 
 enjoyment of such liberty in the exercise of reli- 
 gion as was consistent with the laws of Ireland, 
 and conformable with that which they possessed 
 in the reign of Charles II. 
 
 " All persons whatever were entitled to the 
 protection of these laws, and restored to the pos- 
 session of their estates, privileges, and immuni- 
 ties, upon their submitting to the present Go- 
 vernment, and taking the oath of allegiance to 
 their Majesties King William and Queen Mary, 
 excepting, however, certain persons who were 
 forfeited or exiled.'^ 
 
 " In order to allay the violence of party, and 
 extinguish private animosities, it w^as agreed 
 that no person should be sued or impleaded on 
 either side for any trespass, or made account- 
 able for the rents, tenements, lands, or houses 
 he had received or enjoyed since the beginning 
 of the war. 
 
 " Every nobleman and gentleman comprised 
 in these articles was authorized to keep a sword, 
 a case of pistols, and a gun, for his defence or 
 amusement. 
 
 " The inhabitants of Limerick and other gar- 
 c 2 
 
28 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 risons were permitted to remove their goods 
 and chattels, without search, visitation, or pay- 
 ment of duty. 
 
 " The Lords Justices promised to use their 
 best endeavours that all persons comprehended 
 in this capitulation should for eight months be 
 protected from all arrests and executions for 
 debt or damage. They undertook that their 
 Majesties should ratify these articles within the 
 space of eight months, and use their endeavours 
 that they might be ratified and confirmed in 
 Parliament.'* 
 
 " All persons were indulged with a free leave 
 to remove with their families and effects to any 
 other country except England and Scotland. 
 
 " All officers and soldiers in the service of 
 King James, comprehending even the Rappa- 
 rees, willing to go beyond sea, were at liberty 
 to march in bodies to the place of embarkation, 
 to be conveyed to the Continent with the French 
 officers and troops. They were furnished with 
 passports, convoys, and carriages, by land and 
 water ; and General Ginkle engaged to provide 
 seventy ships, if necessary, for their transporta- 
 tion, with two men-of-war for the accommoda- 
 tion of their officers, and to serve as a convoy to 
 the fleet. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 29 
 
 '' That all the garrisons should march out of 
 their respective towns and fortresses with the 
 honours of war. 
 
 " That such as choose to stay behind might 
 dispose of themselves according to their own 
 fancy, after having surrendered their arms to 
 such commissioners as the General sliould ap- 
 point. 
 
 " That all prisoners of war should be set at 
 liberty on both sides." 
 
 " This is the substance of the famous treaty 
 of Limerick, which the Irish Roman Catholics 
 considered as the great charter of their civil and 
 religious liberties." — Smollett, Continuation of 
 Hume, chapter iii. section 12. 
 
 It should be mentioned that, in making this 
 extract, some passages have been omitted which 
 contained merely unimportant matter, or details 
 relating only to the mode proposed for carrying 
 terms into effect ; such as the manner in which 
 certain monies were to be paid. Sec. 
 
 All the passages transcribed will be found to 
 supply information necessary to the comprehen- 
 sion of this story. 
 
 If Captain Pendergast felt gratified with the 
 Treaty of Limerick upon public and national 
 grounds, a peculiar private motive much assist- 
 
30 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 ed in confirming him in such a frame of tnind. 
 He saw that, according to its provisions, Sir 
 Redmond 0'Burke''s son remained free to pos- 
 sess and enjoy any patrimony that might have 
 descended to him, if indeed any had. This 
 however seemed very questionable, when his 
 father's dying declarations upon the field of 
 Aughram were remembered and considered : 
 and to solve the doubt, as well as to indulge 
 wishes that we have seen him compelled to neg- 
 lect for some months, Pendergast, very soon af- 
 ter the surrender of Limerick, proceeded in th^ 
 direction of Sir Redmond's former place of 
 residence. 
 
 He performed his journey on horseback, ac- 
 companied by a single servant. The man had 
 been a soldier under his command during the 
 recent campaigns, and a close attendant upon 
 his person, at every moment when sterner duties 
 did not otherwise command him to employ him- 
 self : nay, his Captain and he had interchanged 
 the offices of master and man, even before the 
 breaking out of the civil war ; had marched 
 from home together at the first levy of the Ul- 
 ster adherents of King Wilham, and from that 
 day to the present hour shared almost every 
 vicissitude of a long and changeful struggle. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 31 
 
 It may therefore be concluded that a very 
 friendly understanding subsisted between them. 
 In truth, the old soldier loved his Captain sin- 
 cerely, though by no means ostentatiously ; and 
 Pendergast esteemed him in return, and treated 
 him as well, sometimes as gently, as John 
 Sharpens temper and character permitted, or 
 rendered advisable for the due upholding of a 
 superior's authority. 
 
 For John had a will of his own, a way of his 
 own, and a view of every thing peculiarly his 
 own ; and then he had also a humour of his 
 own ; a dry, triste vein of what he believed was 
 mirth, and which an ordinary observer might 
 be apt to mistake for the largest portion of his 
 whole character, but which was really but the 
 vehicle for conveying, at least upon most occa- 
 sions, his bile and bitterness against every per- 
 son and thing he chose to select for observation. 
 In such times, such an individual could not be 
 expected to carry on his hatreds of any descrip- 
 tion with a reasonable or even a prudent method; 
 nor could it be supposed that, towards the great 
 object of hatred continually before his mind, he 
 did not indulge to the very utmost extent of 
 loathing and rancour. In fact, popery had 
 grown up in John Sharpens thoughts into a kind 
 
32 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 of definite, visible monster, of hideous aspect 
 and proportions ; a thing that he and all good 
 people were bound to attack, maim, and kill, at 
 every opportunity, — a real dragon, as it were, 
 such as Guy, Earl of Warwick, had encounter- 
 ed and destroyed. At the same time, there was 
 no rage, no fire, no glow, even, in his manner of 
 feeling or speaking, according to this system, 
 against whatever might be the theme of his ha- 
 tred. But we shall have it in our power to al- 
 low him to express himself and his own difficult 
 character in a better way than either could be 
 described for him. 
 
 The travellers, passing in a south-easterly 
 direction through the county of Limerick, left 
 behind them tracts of the richest soil ; then 
 mostly used as sheep-walks, and even now ap- 
 propriated, in some degree, to the same pur- 
 poses. Before the day fell on them, they had 
 entered the county of Tipperary, rich, at least, in 
 turf; and although inferior to the luxuriant 
 soil of Limerick, also holding forth abundant 
 promise to the agriculturist. In 1691, it pre- 
 sented however, along the wretched road pur- 
 sued by Captain Pendergast and his servant, a 
 black, bleak, and desolate appearance, which 
 was heightened by the marks of devastation. 
 
THR LAST BARON OF CRANA. 33 
 
 yet fresh upon it, in the shape of burnt cabins, 
 and dilapidated and deserted mansions, from 
 the fury of Civil war. Its flatness, so far as the 
 travellers had explored it, farther added to 
 this dreary character, and to the impressions 
 which it was calculated to make upon the spi- 
 rits of the observers. Indeed, Pendergast and 
 his attendant felt the day's journey an uncom- 
 fortable one, and their mutual taciturnity prov- 
 ed that they did. 
 
 Towards the conclusion of the next day, 
 their road passed the Galteigh mountains ; and 
 now, if change of scenery alone could raise 
 their spirits, they must have experienced a re- 
 lief. But the sense of forlorn seclusion which 
 fell upon them as they traversed the shadows of 
 those barren, lumpy hills, little stamped with 
 picturesque features, and at that time wholly 
 uncultivated, was not in the least degree more 
 cheering than the weariness imparted by the 
 flat, open country. Captain Pendergast clear- 
 ed up, notwithstanding, and put his horse to a 
 brisk pace, ere they had been quite delivered 
 from the Galteighs ; because, according to the 
 previous information lie had received, Sir Red- 
 mond O'Burke's mansion must now be near at 
 hand. Of a frightened-looking peasant who 
 c 5 
 
M THE LAST BARON OF CRANA, 
 
 crept along the road, and seemed to look round 
 for a hiding-place when the travellers came up, 
 he enquired in what direction it lay. The man 
 answered in pure Irish, and proved unintelli- 
 gible to both his Northern hearers : his action, 
 however, was more to the purpose ; he pointed 
 up a spacious valley, which ran at right-angles 
 to the road his querists had hitherto pursued ; 
 and thither Captain Pendergast spurred. 
 
 " Well ! the Papishes shame the pigs, oot 
 and oot, in the speech they have," remarked 
 John Sharpe, as he followed his master into the 
 valley ; and he spoke without unclenching his 
 teeth from a short dingy pipe, which, almost 
 from morning till night, except when he ate his 
 meals, remained tight between them. Captain 
 Pendergast took no notice, but seemed now 
 more than ever thoughtful, if not depressed. 
 
 " Troth, jest !" continued the servant ; " and 
 yet, yon 's a bright mon, in his ain mind, I 
 warrant : yes ; thinks he has rhetoric enough 
 for a stage C this was one of John's favourite 
 phrases, of which he had many ; and a standing 
 joke, too, as was evinced by the slow, chuckling, 
 " Hu, ugh !'' that followed it. Still, his master 
 said nothing. " But your honour has a some- 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 35 
 
 thing on your heart, I'm thinking," he re- 
 sumed, coming; nearly to his master's side. 
 
 " And is that so wonderful, John Sharpe?" 
 
 " No, not just so wonderful, your honour ; 
 troth, no : and my ain heart is not the lighter 
 for thinking of what I make bold to believe 
 your honour is thinking of along with me." 
 
 " What, John ?" 
 
 " Troth, that it's httle better than a woful 
 home we 're bound to, yon," pointing in a north- 
 ern direction; — " that is, not precisely bound to 
 this very moment, for your honour has not told 
 me, yet, where this present wild journey, held 
 through this Southern, papish country, is to 
 end. or, for the matter o' that, wliy it has ever 
 been begun ?" In truth, Captain Pendergast had 
 V^^ not cared to give his old servant any hint of his 
 present purpose, altliough usually in the habit 
 of makiwg him a kind of confidant ; and ever 
 since they left Limerick, John Sharpe had been 
 tormented by curiosity, and not a little hurt 
 and offended at UK master's want of attention, 
 until a few moments before, when, to his great 
 astonishment, he heard the inquiry after Sir 
 Redmond O'Burke's mansion. Then, his curi- 
 osity changed into an excess, for which there is 
 
 I 
 
36 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 no descriptive word ; and doubt and misgiving, 
 apprehension and ill-humour, farther took pos^ 
 session of him. He was clever enough, how- 
 ever, from experience of his Captain's character, 
 to suppress all outward show of emotion ; nay, 
 to exhibit his usual vein of sad merriment, and 
 to try for information in the manner we see him 
 adopt in his last remarks. 
 
 " A woful home, indeed," was Captain Pen- 
 dergast's only reply. 
 
 " And yet, there is balm in Gilead,'' conti- 
 nued John, assuming, what he rarely exhibited, 
 a truly serious tone : — " Abraham loved Sarah ; 
 but when she died, and that he had mourned 
 and wept for her, and buried her in the field 
 bought of the children of Heth, in the land 
 of Canaan, he married another wife, named 
 Cetura, notwithstanding : and moreover, being 
 already blessed in abundance of children." 
 
 " He did so, John ; but though yon field of 
 Aughram leaves me childless, as well as wife- 
 less, this day, I incline not to follow the Pa- 
 triarch's example, in that particular. Never 
 shall the image of a living woman supplant the 
 memory of her who — died to give me my only^ 
 only boy.'"* 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 37 
 
 " But also, master ,'" continued John Sharpe, 
 " the Lord moved Abraham, seeing it was jest 
 a natural and praiseworthy yearning, lo com- 
 plain in his vision, saying, ' What wilt thou 
 give me ? I shall go childless, and the steward 
 of my house is this Eliezer of Damascus," — and 
 again : ' Lo, one born in my house is my heir.' 
 Genesis, fifteenth chapter, the sacond and the 
 thard varse."" 
 
 " Such cannot be my case, John. No Elie- 
 zer of Damascus, no servant of my house can 
 have that good chance. My brother has sons, 
 and sons of my name ; and they are needy, and 
 will want the fortune that now must pass to 
 them — in great part, at the least.'"' 
 
 " Doubtless, Captain, if so it must be, your 
 honour's hopeful and worshipful nevoys will 
 have grace to be thankful for whatever share 
 your love and wisdom appoints as their lot ; 
 and moreover, contented that you still keep 
 another share for other uses ; seeing,"' continued 
 John, in his own view, " how many blood-re- 
 lations, besides their ain selves, will look to 
 enjoy the portion of estate 3-our honour says is 
 not marked out for them." 
 
 " I have no other blood- relations, however. 
 
38 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 John, who stand in need of my help, or who 
 will do well to think of being the better of my 
 testamentary dispositions."*' 
 
 " Troth, just, master; and I was forgetful, 
 not to hold in mind how bountifully Providence 
 has already endowed all other members of your 
 worshipful family ; — it will be some auld friend, 
 I warrant, who now little dreams of being so 
 beholden til your honour ? — " 
 
 " No, John;' 
 
 It was on the tip of John Sharpens tongue to 
 insinuate another question, such as "• Some 
 faithful old follower, then ? " but his prudence 
 closed his lips, and clenched his teeth firmer 
 than ever upon the short shank of his pipe. 
 After a pause, however, he continued. 
 
 " Your honour, of a surety, wouldna be for 
 setting up an alms-house, or a lazar-house, for 
 a pack of idle, gossipping, women ? a practice 
 out of date, in these times, though much in 
 vogue in the days of auld Papistry." 
 
 " Content you, John, I mean not so.'^ 
 
 With a suppressed groan, or rather grunt of 
 impatience, the baffled servant inhaled through 
 his set teeth a quick whifF of tobacco-smoke, 
 and with another grunt, a nasal one, let it out 
 
THE LAST BARON OF GRAN A. 39 
 
 again. John had a head even too much prone, 
 to"" (as he himself would say) " put that and 
 that together ;" and he could not now avoid 
 most irritating combinations of his master's 
 inquiry after the house of the deceased rebel 
 nobleman, Sir Redmond O'Burke, with those 
 mysterious hints of a co-heir who was not to be 
 related to Captain Pendergast. He still was 
 able, however, to disguise his feelings, and to 
 persevere in making out his case in his own 
 fashion. 
 
 After allowing, since the Captain's last an- 
 swer, sufficient time to elapse, to permit the 
 appearance of the former subject having dropt : 
 " And, troth,*" he said, " this is but a wild and 
 comfortless road we are travelling, wherever it 
 is to stop :" they had for some time been riding 
 up the spacious valley, wliich was traversed by 
 a chafing stream, and overhung by lofty hills 
 quite uncultivated ; and, beneath their horses' 
 feet, what had once been a wide, though rude 
 track- way, could now scarce be distinguished, 
 owing to encroaching vegetation, from the mat- 
 ted soil at either hand. 
 
 " I agree, John ; and, either tliese savage 
 hills make their own twilight, or else evening 
 
40 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 begins to fall, to add to our difficulty : mend 
 your pace, however ; we shall soon see the jit 
 of this matter." 
 
 They trotted forward at a good rate, and 
 came to a turning in the valley, where, to Cap- 
 tain Pendergasfs relief, commenced a stately 
 avenue of sycamores, which must obviously lead 
 to the mansion he sought. The hills at either 
 hand, too, now appeared partially planted, and 
 one, at the left, was completely clothed vi^ith 
 wood, which continued along level ground, very 
 nearly to that side of the avenue. It was a 
 scene of deep solitude. No living thing ap- 
 peared in view save the rooks heavily winging 
 homeward to their nests in the tall trees over- 
 head ; and their hoarse cawing, together with 
 the fret of the stream the travellers had just 
 left behind, the wood-quest's note from the 
 depths of his profound retreat, and the rustling 
 of the October leaves, which came, now and 
 then, shaken by a gust, upon the heads and 
 shoulders of the lonely strangers, were the only 
 sounds that lulled, rather than disturbed, the 
 intense repose of Nature. 
 
 Captain Pendergast paused awhile, impressed 
 by the effect of the scene. Then, looking for 
 the avenue gate, he saw that it had been torn 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 41 
 
 off its rude hinges, and lay in fragments at his 
 horse's feet. Its piers, also, seemed to have been 
 recently ill-treated. He proceeded up the broad 
 avenue, anxiously glancing forward for a sight of 
 the mansion : none appeared. But the avenue 
 soon took a quick turn to the right, and here he 
 once more checked his horse, to contemplate the 
 objects now placed directly -before his view. 
 
 For about a hundred yards, the avenue swept 
 on. It was terminated by two piers, from which 
 also the gate had been torn. Beyond them, 
 with a considerable space between, were the 
 piers of still another gate, standing more widely 
 apart than their fellows, and of more massive 
 and elaborate construction. From these, to the 
 right and to the left, ran a ruined wall, flanked 
 by trees, and forming three sides of an open 
 square, of which the fourth side was the front 
 of what had once been Sir Redmond O'Burke's 
 mansion ; a modern structure, composed of a 
 projecting square mass in the centre, and of 
 uniform adjuncts, which, at right-angles that 
 opposed those of the outer wall, fell backward 
 to make an inner court-yard. The centre was 
 surmounted by a cupola of light and elegant 
 architecture, and was built over an open arch- 
 way, through which Captain Pendergast still 
 
42 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 looked into that inner-court-yard, nay, far be- 
 yond it, across pleasure-grounds, terraces and 
 gardens, until the receding and opening valley, 
 which partly formed the distance, was crossed 
 by shadowy hills ; and over these, the round 
 red moon just then began to rise, and a muti- 
 lated statue, elevated upon a pedestal, in the 
 remote pleasaunce of the mansion, cut blackly 
 and sharply against her disk. 
 
 This, then, was the building the traveller had 
 come far to visit ; but a second glance informed 
 him that it no longer was in a state to give a 
 welcome to any visitor. We have noticed that its 
 avenue-gates were shattered, and the wall of its 
 outer-court in ruins ; now he saw that the walls 
 of the mansion itself were partially blackened 
 with fire, its battlements broken, its windows 
 dashed in, its halls silent, its hearths desolate. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 43 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Friends of ours have been here, John 
 Sharpe,"" said Captain Pendergast, after he and 
 his servant had stood some time at the bottom 
 of the avenue, observing the ruin. 
 
 " Hu, ugh !" chuckled John, " and I beheve 
 you guess at the truth, Captain : it does look 
 just like a place that the true-blues had a night 
 in. I wonder what old Romish grandee yon 
 was in his day : hu, ugh ! troth, just."" 
 
 " John, you are a bigot." 
 
 " Well, Captain ; 'tis worthy of a fresh feed 
 til the nose-comforter, howsomever — ugh, ugh !" 
 he continued, slowly and methodically taking 
 out of his pouch, while the reins rested on the 
 neck of his tired and patient steed, a little lea- 
 thern packet, containing, under many careful 
 foldings, a piece of tobacco, a flint and steel, and 
 touch-paper; which latter, he said, no man but 
 
44 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 himself knew how to make, " and it took the 
 spark only for showing the flant and steel til it, 
 or just letting it hear ae clash at ween 'em.'" 
 
 " Though, upon second thought, I hope you 
 may be only fool, John,'" resumed his master. 
 
 " And it's just well to be any thing, these 
 times," still chuckled the old soldier, again 
 glancing up at the ruin, and then sinking his 
 chin on his breast, with a repeated " hu, ugh !'*"' 
 of an increasing joyful character, while he pro- 
 ceeded very systematically to fill his pipe, and 
 " show" the flint and steel to his touch-paper. 
 
 " And yet, within yonder walls, I had hoped 
 to find a friend — or one whom I had foredoomed 
 to be a friend,"' resumed Pendergast, speaking 
 out his own thoughts, rather than now address- 
 ing his attendant. John Sharpe heard the 
 words, notwithstanding, and commented upon 
 them, too, with a fresh chuckle of exceeding de- 
 light, for which the reader can account by re- 
 collecting former allusions to his thoughts and 
 feeling. 
 
 " Be silent. Sir, and advance with me to note 
 if any living being yet bides in the ruin," said 
 his master, offended at his freedom, and in a 
 tone which John knew how to value. Both ar- 
 rived, accordingly, at the gate at the top of the 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 45 
 
 avenue ; but here their proposed investigation 
 seemed stopped ; for, a few paces from the 
 piers, they encountered a wide ditch, filled with 
 water, over which, at the point they command- 
 ed, a bridge had once been thrown, although at 
 present only some of its fragments lay on either 
 bank. 
 
 In this dilemma. Captain Pendergast com- 
 manded John Sharpe to join him in shouting 
 loudly towards the desolate building. The 
 deep and prolonged echoes which answered 
 them, as well from the hills and woods around, 
 as from its own walls, were so startling, that 
 master and man paused and listened to their 
 cadences as if they had been attending to an 
 answer shouted back by real voices. Xight be- 
 gan to fall rapidly. The extensive and shat- 
 tered pile grew blacker, as the rising moon rolled 
 her chaste glory over the hills and sky at its 
 back. Her rays came streaming through more 
 than one window-hole of the front, either because 
 another window in the rear, exactly confronting 
 it, allowed free passage to the beam, or that the 
 wall of the rear itself was partially thrown 
 down. The benighted travellers, mutually dis- 
 liking their present situation, although neither 
 expressed their sensations, shouted again and 
 
46 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 again ; and at last, Captain Pendergast thought 
 that a figure darkened the moonshine at one 
 of the windows spoken of, disappearing again in 
 a twinkling, and allowing the beautiful light to 
 stream on. He asked his attendant if he had 
 noticed such an occurrence. John said he had 
 not; but while they discussed the point, both 
 now were aware that a man certainly stood in the 
 space of another window, which remained in black 
 shadow, and seemed watching them. Perhaps, 
 when he first appeared at the moon-lit window, 
 this person quickly remembered his conspicuous 
 position, and had left it to pursue his observa- 
 tions in a less exposed one. Indeed, the faintest 
 indication of a figure was at present given to 
 our friends ; for its dress seemed as black as the 
 shadow which encompassed it. 
 
 Their shouts arose shriller. Still, the echoes 
 alone made answer ; and the figure did not 
 move. 
 
 " The stony-hearted Papish r said John 
 Sharpe ; " what, if we give ae bark til him. Cap- 
 tain .?" showing a pistol. 
 
 " On your life, no I*" answered his master ; 
 " the man only fears us — we shall prove him a 
 friend." 
 
 " What \s that ?^'' continued John, chucking 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 47 
 
 back his head, as something cut with a sharp 
 sound through the air close by his and his Cap- 
 tain's face : " Wooden shoes to my feet, your 
 honour ! but if we will not bark til him, the 
 Papish is whistling til us." 
 
 " How, John ?" 
 
 " *'Twas a cross-bow arrow. Captain, or say 
 I don't know a brass sixpence from a silver coin 
 of the same name ; for though such unchris- 
 tian weapons be out of vogue in fair campaign- 
 ing, your honour remembers that woodsmen, 
 gamekeepers, and their like, still practise with 
 them, and Roimsh woodsmen most of all so — 
 Ha !" a second time the same twitting sound 
 passed the speaker, and he suddenly caught his 
 nose between his fingers and thumb, as if it had 
 been grazed ; " I 'm touched, now. Captain," 
 he continued, " by one of the like viperish, 
 Papish skin-scratchers : and now, of a surety, 
 your honour will not forbear me from sending 
 over our compliments in return." 
 
 " Hold, yet ! — the man, yonder has not stirred 
 a finger ; I have been watching him as atten- 
 tively as he seems watching us," cried Pen- 
 dergast ; " but, by Heaven, John ! we must 
 turn round here to the left !" a third aiTow 
 struck the Captain's saddle and was now quiver- 
 
48 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 ing in it — " See ! the assassin, or assassins, shel- 
 ter at the edge of the wood, across the meadow 
 — one has just glanced in among the trees — face 
 round with me, but stand steadily first, and a 
 shot each, before advancing." 
 
 These words were little more than said, when 
 the sharp explosion of the travellers' pistols 
 rang through the stilled and shadowed solitude, 
 calling up all its echoes, until the two shots 
 seemed followed by a volley. The next second, 
 rooks cawed in the trees down the avenue, and 
 other birds screamed in the woods ; and at the 
 same time Pendergast believed he caught a 
 sudden exclamation from the ruin. Confront- 
 ing it quickly, he perceived that the dark figure 
 had abandoned the window-space; and while 
 he looked, a stir in the moonshine in the inner- 
 court-yard drew his glance, and he saw a per- 
 son, clad in long drapery, hurry across the 
 ground at the pedestal of the statue before 
 mentioned. 
 
 " Prime and load, and advance now !" cried 
 Captain Pendergast ; and he and his valiant 
 man were soon galloping across the open space 
 at their left to the skirt of the great wood. In 
 their career, a fourth arrow struck off John 
 Sharpens hat, and he and his master imme- 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 49 
 
 diately answered by again discharging their 
 pistols. 
 
 "Stop wit de hand! — shentlemans stop! 
 graio-gal-hoy ! not none but graiv-gal-hoy in 
 wood !'"■ shouted an old man^s voice from an- 
 other direction. The accents were those of one 
 in great distress and agitation, and vehement 
 supplication. 
 
 Captain Pendergast halted, and cried, 
 " Stand !" as he saw the speaker run to cross 
 his way, throwing up his hands, and still shout- 
 ing uninterruptedly. 
 
 " Och, ay. Sirs r and the old man stood still 
 accordingly, while the travellers closed upon 
 him ; Pendergast, now jumping from his saddle, 
 and leaving his horse to John Sharpens care — 
 " Och, ay, stands — all — all he bids — but he not 
 hurt boy — good, poor gor^oon — in wood for 
 kill bird — rabbit — nien at all more — graiu-gal- 
 boy!" and the advocate still spoke and gesticu- 
 lated in great emotion. Pendergast stood close 
 to him in the moonshine. The old man was 
 quaintly attired. He wore, in part, the very 
 clumsiest, rustic imitation of the civil attire 
 of the day ; namely, brogues, hose of a dingy 
 red colour, and breeches, bagged and slashed 
 above the knees ; but his long-skirted, collar- 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
50 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 less coat, was of a cut that intimated the character 
 of a servant, or follower of a great family, as also 
 did its broad, crested buttons; and on his white- 
 haired head was a hunting-cap. 
 
 " I understand not your speech,'' said Cap- 
 tain Pendergast, in reply to the effort of the 
 old Southern peasant to express himself in a 
 language with which he was very little ac- 
 quainted ; " at the least, your meaning is doubt- 
 ful to me; but if you can comprehend plain 
 English, when spoken, better than you speak 
 it, know that I have been shot at, with arrows, 
 from yon wood-side, while here, waited on by my 
 servant, upon a friendly business." 
 
 ^' Sure, ay, ould Rory knowns ; only not shot 
 for kill — arrow shot at rabbit — ay — " 
 
 " And how many sportsmen are in the wood?" 
 interrupted Pendergast. " Methinks you spoke 
 of a boy ; what men are with him .?" 
 
 " Och ! sure nien man to him — nien ! nien ! 
 nien left — ochown !"" 
 
 " Can I see the boy ?" 
 
 " An an .'''" the old man stept back, fright- 
 ened, and glanced anxiously towards the wood : 
 " Can him see boy, aroon ? it 's what him say is 
 that .?" 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRaNA. ^jI 
 
 " Yes ; and you need fear nothing on his ac- 
 count or your own : 1 have told you that my 
 visit to this wild place is friendly." 
 
 "Avoch! wild place! ay!— it's wild place 
 it is, now ! wirra-sthrue ! ochown !''' and he 
 abandoned himself to lamentations, which Pen- 
 dergast thought might be partly sincere, partly 
 affected to evade answering the direct inquiry. 
 And John Sharpe seemed of the same opinion ; 
 for having come up, leading his master's horse, 
 he said suddenly — 
 
 *' Fule of a Papish ! reply to his honour's 
 question." 
 
 " Silence, Sharpe," cried Captain Pendergast 
 angrily, as the old man looked still more fright- 
 ened, " and offer no other word on this matter. 
 My servant is wayward," he continued in a 
 mild voice to old Rory ; " but I once more as- 
 sure you, on the faith of a gentleman, that we 
 are here as friends." 
 
 '' Friends ! avoch ! nien friends come now — 
 nien alive to come — sure, no — ochown I and 
 sure nien ever at all, to dress in cap and feather, 
 like him honour." 
 
 "Nay, old man, this grows tedious; I am 
 tired with my long journey hither, and not in 
 D 2 
 
52 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 the humour for cross-purposes, especially when 
 assured of my own intentions ; so, we will cut 
 the discourse short. If the boy you speak of 
 be, as I suspect and hope he is, the youngest 
 and only living son of your old master. Sir 
 Red r 
 
 " Och, nien, nien !" interrupted the old ser- 
 vant, gaining the height of his terror ; " never 
 at all ! What him do here to ould Rory ? sure, 
 nien ; graw-gal-boy, Rory's own sisther''s son, 
 here for having shoot in v^ood — hi-ho ! i-hoo !" 
 he continued, facing round to the trees, as he 
 shouted shrilly, and clapped his hands — " be 
 going home, Murtach, ma-chree, to mother, 
 over hill : it 's the dark, a-vich, and nien more 
 arrows till the morrow at morning !'' 
 
 " If Sir Redmond O'Burke's son listens to 
 me,"' resumed Pendergast, also speaking loudly, 
 " I advise, I intreat him, not to withdraw, but 
 rather advance to my side : I bear a message 
 from his father. "" 
 
 Old Rory uttered a cry of fearful astonish- 
 ment at these words, and again clapped his 
 hands. Another exclamation reached Pender- 
 gast from the wood's edge. He turned his head 
 quickly in the direction whence it came. The 
 topmost boughs of one of the trees that skirted 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 53 
 
 the wood were in motion, and presently a boy 
 was seen clambering down, from branch to 
 branch, with great agility and earnestness : not 
 waitinoj to slide alons: the trunk, he swuno^ him- 
 self by the hands out of a branch some yards 
 above the ground, alighted firmly on his feet, 
 and quickly crossed the meadow in a direct line 
 towards the travellers. He seemed about 
 twelve ; tall for his years, and slight, but of 
 elegant proportion ; and his erect air, his step, 
 and the grace, if not graceful motion of his 
 limbs, belied, to Pendergast's mind, old Rory's 
 pretensions to a relationship with the young 
 stranger. 
 
 As he came close, Pendergast noticed his 
 attire with sorrow, because it bespoke his des- 
 titute situation. The boy wore a tight-fitting, 
 long-backed, wide-skirted coat, of a velvet tex- 
 ture, and it had once been highly embroidered ; 
 but the gold filigree-work was now tarnished, 
 and in part worn or rent off, and the garment 
 itself burst in many places. He was bare- 
 headed ; his light hair flowin^^ in curls over his 
 shoulders. The deep linen collar which folded 
 down under his chin, seemed in a soiled state. 
 His thifjhs and lecps were covered with cloth 
 and hose of as coarse materials as those worn 
 
54 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 by old Rory ; and like him, too, he trod in 
 common Irish brogues. And yet, wretched as 
 were the circumstances indicated by this iU- 
 sorted union of the costume of better days, 
 with that of present poverty, the boy showed 
 in his whole expression nothing of a self-abasing 
 consciousness of misfortune. On the contrary, 
 as has been said in other w^ords, his mien and 
 step were high and proud ; and when he stop- 
 ped suddenly, and confronted Captain Pender- 
 gast, the glowing eagerness of his eyes, and the 
 out-turning of his full, almost heavy lips, told 
 that his poor appearance was quite forgotten, 
 partly in a good opinion of himself, partly in 
 the subject that engrossed and agitated his mind. 
 A cross-bow and a quiver were slung at his 
 back. 
 
 '' The spawn of the scarlet b !" mutter- 
 ed John Sharpe ; " he dares come into our 
 presence with the very weapons dangling ahint 
 him." 
 
 And John, sucking his pipe ever more spite- 
 fully for each renewed glance, scowled at the 
 young archer ; and old Rory increased his out- 
 cries of fear and lamentation at every step that 
 brought him nearer. But, unheeding either, 
 the boy looked straightly and firmly into Cap- 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 55 
 
 tain Pendergast's eyes, as he said, the moment 
 he stopped short, " I am Sir Redmond 0'Burke'*s 
 only hving son — who are you that speak of a 
 message from my father ?" 
 
 " His friend ; Pendergast, of Pendergast- 
 Hall, young Sir." 
 
 " His friend ? my father had no friend of 
 that name, or wearing that livery," he added, 
 peering closely at the Captain's military attire. 
 
 " He had not, I grant you, to your know- 
 ledge, or before he left home for the wars ; and 
 yet I was his last friend." 
 
 " How ! — would you tell me that my father 
 changed sides, Sir ? would you dare tell me 
 that .f^" asked young CBurke, very indignantly. 
 
 " No : he was as true a gentleman as ever 
 proved loyal, through thick and thin, to an 
 indifferent cause." 
 
 " Indifferent cause. Sir ? but I pause not 
 now on your word," he continued, eagerly, 
 while tears gathered in his eyes — " what mes- 
 sage do you bear from my father .^" 
 
 " That you ride with me, from this place, 
 and take up your abode in my house." 
 
 "Ah!" cried the boy, jumping back; "a 
 trick to make me a prisoner !" 
 
 " Young gentleman," expostulated Pender- 
 
56 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 gastj '• be not so self-opinioned : these wars are 
 over ; peace reigns in the land, with some ho- 
 nour to your father's cause ; and I could not, 
 dare not make you a prisoner, if I would.^' 
 
 " And that is true ?"" young O'Burke ad- 
 vanced again : "But am I to meet my father in 
 your house, Sir ?" he asked, in a voice not con- 
 fident with hope or expectation. 
 
 " No, my boy,"*' answered Pendergast, so- 
 lemnly. 
 
 " And why not ? where is he ? Oh ! we have 
 heard some rumours here ; part from friends, 
 part from enemies ; but all so loose, that we 
 could not, would not credit them ! Yet now. 
 Sir, you, I fear, bring us the tidings, indeed ! 
 I call to mind your words — You were my 
 father*s last friend, you said? Where arose 
 your friendship ?" 
 
 " At Aughram." 
 
 " And there he engaged you to bear me this 
 message ?" 
 
 " There ; and it was his last message, too." 
 
 The boy, shrieking like a woman, suddenly 
 dropped, sitting on the grass, covered his face 
 with his hand, and while he rocked to and fro, 
 continued to utter the shrill laments that, at his 
 years, express the orphan's grief for the loss of 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 5^ 
 
 a beloved parent, mixed up with a cutting sense 
 of helplessness and destitution. Old Rory knelt 
 at his side, held him in his arms, and instead of 
 trying to soothe his anguish, added to it by his 
 own wild and almost fearful cries. Captain 
 Pendergast, regarding the pair in silence, felt 
 his own tears flow. " Here,'" he thought, "here, 
 in the depths of the domains of his fathers, and 
 within sight of their ruined house, and only 
 supported by that last faithful old follower, — 
 here, in the light of the moon, houseless and 
 ragged, it is indeed sad news for the boy to 
 hear, and a sad scene for me to witness. — Alight, 
 John Sharpe, and assist me in comforting this 
 lad and old man." 
 
 Without a word, John descended from his 
 saddle; and, notwithstanding all his habitual 
 crabbedness of feeling, his master heard him 
 snuffle, in evidence that even his eyes were in- 
 fected. 
 
 " Rory,""* pursued Pendergast, " let us all 
 stand on our feet, and look about for some place 
 of shelter f(3r the night ; I am hungry and 
 thirsty, and wish you to purchase me food and 
 drink." Rory felt a heavy purse thrust into 
 his hand ; he looked up, stupidly ; ceased weep- 
 ing, and arose. " Prevail on my young friend 
 D 5 
 
58 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 to take my arm ; — my hand, first, Rory," con- 
 tinued the speaker, " be assured I am anxious 
 he should love me. His father saved my life 
 twice in one day ; I could not preserve his, 
 afterwards, at the turn of the battle ; but. Sir 
 Redmond O'Burke bequeathed him to me, and 
 I have sworn he shall be a son to me ; and the 
 oath was made, Rory, above the grave in which 
 my own hands assisted to stretch, side by side, 
 this young boy's father, and my own only son." 
 These words, as had been intended, found their 
 way to young O'Burke's ear, and also produced 
 the desired effect. He uncovered his face, 
 looked up at Pendergast, and saw his tears in 
 the moonlight ; and then he jumped to his 
 arras, and gave him embrace for embrace. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 59 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " I HAVE no roof to offer you, Sir,'' said 
 young O'Burke, soon afterwards, " but Rory 
 Laherty's den in the heart of the forest ; and 
 that is not as good a one as even he has been 
 used to : we made it, with our four hands, since 
 his house was- burnt down.*" 
 
 Expressing himself contented with any ac- 
 commodation, Pendergast requested his young 
 friend to show the way through the wood. 
 John Sharpe, his gentler feelings passed and 
 gone, and now holding a gruff, quaint silence, 
 followed with old Rory, who, still agitated and 
 afflicted, kept up an incessant account, in bro- 
 ken English, of the recent sufferings of his mas- 
 ter's family ; no one word of which, (when un- 
 derstood,) excited aught save the contempt of 
 the hearer ; except, perhaps, that now and then 
 his " ugh, hee !" hinted a gratification to his me- 
 
60 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 chanical hatreds and aversions, arising out of 
 some peculiar instance of the severities acted to- 
 wards the retainers of Sir Redmond's house, by 
 the detachment of King Wilham's army which 
 had been dispatched to attack and destroy it. 
 
 While Pendergast, leaning on the boy, ap- 
 proached the wood, he heard John Sharpe ex- 
 claim suddenly, " Captain, look close ! 'ware 
 ambuscade !"" 
 
 His master, glancing forward, certainly saw 
 some person glide from the skirt of the wood 
 into its dark intricacies, and disappear. It was, 
 he believed, the same individual, at least one 
 wearing the same singular dark drapery, whom 
 he had before observed in the window-space of 
 the ruined mansion. He stopped, and asked 
 the boy, " Who was that ?'' 
 
 Young: O'Burke said he had seen no one. 
 
 " My young Sir — but no, tell me your chris- 
 tian name before I speak farther."' 
 
 " Patrick," answered the boy frankly, though 
 a little surprised at his companion's remarkable 
 manner. 
 
 " Well, then, Patrick, tell me — were you 
 alone in the wood a while ago .^'' 
 
 " All alone, Sir,"' still frankly. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 61 
 
 ** And sent the four arrows across the mea- 
 dow with your own hand ?"" 
 
 " With my own hand, Sir ; and could have 
 sent ten after them, mayhap with better aim, 
 for I ever grow better at the cross-bow after a 
 waste shot or two ; ay. Sir, and 2uoulcI, but for 
 Rory ; for I had no thought to wait to be drag- 
 ged, Hke a dog, from my hiding-place, and tied 
 neck and heels on a garron, and led off to be 
 murdered by men come, as I then believed, to 
 have the life of the last O 'Burke." 
 
 '^ Very proper, and I do not quarrel with 
 your cross-bow play, though I had w^ell nigh 
 had the odds against me in it. But resolve me 
 another question. What people can be now in 
 the wood, to your knowledge ?''' 
 
 " None, Sir. I am sure there is never a 
 man, gentle or simple, dares show his head with- 
 in miles of my father's house, barring Rory 
 Laherty and myself; or, supposing there were, 
 I or he should know of them ; and, in truth, we 
 know of none." 
 
 " And yet I saw a man move into the wood 
 before us, and one, I reckon, whom I have seen 
 an hour ago, in another place." 
 
 " If so it be. Sir, he is but some poor run- 
 
025 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 away from his own burnt home to ours here. 
 Doubt nothing in any case ; all such must be 
 friends of an O 'Burke, and of an O 'Burke's 
 friend." 
 
 " You know Rory to be thoroughly honest ?^'' 
 pursued Pendergast. 
 
 " Is it Rory, Sir ? Rory ! my own poor old 
 foster-father ! reared up in my family since he 
 was a child ! Come, Sir — and my only friend, 
 since — oh, come. Sir ! By the soul of my fa- 
 ther !"" — the boy again burst into vehement 
 tears — " Rory and I will fight against any foe 
 of yours, and not abet them." 
 
 " I believe it, Patrick ;'' Pendergast pressed 
 his arm — " so, show us your wood-nest." 
 
 In a few moments all were winding, or rather 
 scrambling, their way through the forest ; for as 
 yet no path was visible, and the brushwood 
 proved thick and matted, and the trunks of the 
 trees very close together ; so close, indeed, that 
 although the October winds had begun to thin 
 the foliage of their branches, not a ray of moon- 
 shine could penetrate to the adventurers through 
 the massive screen overhead. 
 
 In some time, however, Pendergast caught 
 throuojh the trees, at a distance, the broken 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 63 
 
 beams of the moon, and the party soon es- 
 caped from the woody depths upon a patch of 
 comparatively open ground, where the grass was 
 short and fresh, and dotted with quivering light 
 and shade. In its centre appeared a small pile 
 of stones, loosely huddled together, and sur- 
 mounted by a few more, shaped into the rude 
 semblance of a cross : near at hand was a little 
 bubbling spring. John Sharpe started at the 
 sight of the primitive altar ; and, to Captain 
 Pendergast's surprise, so did Patrick O^Burke 
 and his old fosterfather. Then they addressed 
 each other in Irish, and their tones seemed those 
 of surprise and inquiry. 
 
 " Have you not passed this way before ?'* 
 asked Pendergast. The boy said, '' Yes, every 
 day." 
 
 " But not seen the stones till now .^'' 
 
 ^' No,'' his young friend replied, though they 
 could not have escaped his notice had they pre- 
 viously been there ; in fact, they must have been 
 piled up within the last few hours, and lience 
 his and old Rory's surprise. 
 
 "And piled up by the man I have twice 
 observed near us," continued Pendergast : 
 " but lead on." 
 
64 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 " We are at home," said Patrick. 
 
 '' A leaky roof, truly," observed the Captain, 
 glancing up at the blue sky. 
 
 « You shall see, Sir." 
 
 There had been a natural pit, or hollow, 
 almost in the middle of the spread of open 
 ground : a gradual descent between steep and 
 almost perpendicular banks. Over this, Rory 
 and his foster-son had laid strong branches, and 
 thin boughs, and lastly sods, until the hollow 
 quite disappeared, and the whole seemed an 
 equal surface. A few holes, invisible to any 
 unsuspicious eye, were left, however, to let air 
 and light in, and smoke out ; and at the point 
 where the descent began, the architects had 
 preserved an orifice some feet wide, which, every 
 time they entered or abandoned the retreat, was 
 carefully hidden with fresh-pulled boughs, so 
 disposed as to appear growing out of the earth. 
 Neither seemed to have contemplated that, 
 although their hiding-place might not stand 
 much chance of being descried, it might, never- 
 theless, be very suddenly invaded by any wan- 
 derer who, as much to his own peril as to theirs, 
 should happen to take for granted what they 
 prided themselves upon making so plausible — 
 namely, that the frail roof of the den was firm 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 65 
 
 ground. But no matter for this deficiency of 
 their plan : such was the abode into which the 
 last son of Sir Redmond O'Burke invited his 
 new protector to descend. 
 
 When the bushes were removed, a rude 
 ladder appeared at the mouth of the orifice 
 which they had concealed. All was pitchy 
 dark below. Rory, after a few words in Irish, 
 precipitated himself first into the rayless abyss, 
 and the rest of the party awaited his prelimi- 
 nary arrangements to make them welcome. 
 Presentl}' the void became illuminated by an 
 intermittent flame, and he was heard pufiing at 
 his fire. Pendergast and the abhorring and 
 still suspicious John Sharpe, then descended 
 the ladder; Patrick O'Burke stopped half-way 
 down to pull the boughs over the orifice. 
 
 *' Let it not trouble you, Patrick, except 
 your thought be to stuff the wind out,"" said 
 Pendergast : " the day has passed when you 
 needed to fear detection, you or any friend of 
 yours ; and, truly, our only need for hiding our- 
 selves in this pit to-night, depends on the sup- 
 position that there is no better resting-place at 
 hand." 
 
 " Nor is there, Sir,"" answered Patrick ; " no 
 cabin on my father's lands was left standing." 
 
66 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 " Ugh, ugh !" commented John Sharpe. His 
 master sufficiently corrected him with a look, 
 and ordered him to assist Rory in some cook- 
 ing process which the old man was undertaking 
 at his turfen fire; then continued: — "Well, 
 Patrick, 'twas a pity ; yet no more than others 
 would have done on mv lands in Far North, if it 
 had come to their turn: so, never heed the hole, 
 for the present ; it will help to rid us of the 
 smoke of our fire, which, after all, looks com- 
 fortable. Your hand, while you turn in the 
 ladder." 
 
 " Queen of heaven !" cried Patrick, grasping 
 tightly the sides of the ladder, as with his 
 back to Pendergast, he looked up to the black 
 orifice. His friend also looked up thither, and 
 saw a pale, wan, strongly-marked face gazing 
 through the opening. The Captain's first im- 
 pulse was to draw a pistol, while old Rory 
 clapped his hands, and ejaculated, as usual, 
 and John Sharpe seconded his master ; but a 
 steady observation of the face told that it could 
 not be an enemy's. Want and misery solely 
 seemed to give it its startling expression; and 
 its sunken eyes glared only with fear at the 
 strangers, and with hunger at the viands now 
 cooking on Rory's fire. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 6^ 
 
 ''Hold my legs tight, or I shall fall, Sir," 
 continued Patrick. 
 
 " What, boy ! afraid of such a poor hungry 
 man as that ?" said Pendergast. 
 
 " It is no man, but the ghost of Father 
 James, my father's chaplain ; he was slain in 
 his flight from our house." 
 
 " A papish priest's ghost !" muttered John 
 Sharpe ; " hu, ugh ; and as it must needs be 
 like to himself, notwithstanding it is so muckle 
 the less harmful, I was curious to see, for the 
 first time in my life, the " 
 
 " Keep silence, I warn you, Sir," interrupted 
 Pendergast ; " this is no ghost, Patrick, but 
 your old friend himself, or rather, I suppose, a 
 moiety of him, come to prefer a claim on our 
 hospitality, with a good appetite." 
 
 " Food, food, in charity's name !" said the 
 new-comer, in weak accents. In a few minutes, 
 Pendergast had helped the starving man down 
 the ladder, placed him sitting on dry rushes 
 and moss, near the fire, and, assisted by Pat- 
 rick, gave him to eat of the first slice of a 
 haunch of venison, now partially cooked, ac- 
 cording to Rory Laherty's best method. And 
 in the person of Father James, Pendergast was 
 assured he saw the individual who had appear- 
 
68 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 ed, watching him and Sharpe from the ruin, 
 and afterwards on the edge of the wood. He 
 remarked the wanderer's dark-brown ecclesias- 
 tical undress, and remembered the ample dra- 
 pery of the suspicious figure. 
 
 While Father James ate, and afterwards 
 drank, his eyes fixed with a stupified recogni- 
 tion upon young O'Burke. The boy, experi- 
 encing much pity and reverence, and perhaps 
 still under the influence of his recent terror, 
 regarded him with a stare almost as vacant. 
 Presently, the priest's eyes grew heavy, the lids 
 often falling and opening again ; then he me- 
 chanically changed his look to the fire ; feebly 
 stretched out his hands to the blaze, rubbed 
 them, looked again at Patrick, and smiled ; and 
 then his head nodded to his breast, and with 
 the weak smile on his lips, he fell asleep. Rory 
 and Pendergast laid him down gently, and at 
 his ease, upon the soft couch of rushes and 
 moss, the old campaigner covering his limbs 
 with his riding-cloak ; a merciful act, which 
 drew from John Sharpe one of his most ex- 
 pressive nasal grunts ; and " let him sleep his 
 fill,'' said Pendergast, " he will wake up a new 
 man : meantime, Rory, we can judge of your 
 cookery." 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 69 
 
 With an almost savage energy of action, for 
 which every thing he did was remarkable, the 
 old gamekeeper proceeded to dispose his viands 
 in eating form. The venison was supported by 
 hares, rabbits, and wood-pigeons, all roasted, 
 and not very free of turf-ashes, nor equally 
 browned on their surfaces ; and Rory, once 
 more changing his character into that of wait- 
 ing-man, laid his fare upon flat stones, previous- 
 ly made hot, and ostentatiously placed a single 
 knife, a hunting one, beside the venison. He 
 had previously put a bottle of French wine in 
 Father James's hands ; now he produced half a 
 dozen more, of different kinds, adding, at the 
 bottom of the board, where John Sharpe and 
 he were to sit, a little gallon barrel of brandy. 
 Pendergast expressed his surprise at the pre- 
 sence of these last good accompaniments to a 
 substantial dinner ; and young Patrick inform- 
 ed him that they had been stealthily brought to 
 the den by Rory, who, in his troubled and ob- 
 jectless visits to the adjacent ruin, since the mi- 
 litary abandoned it, fortunately discovered a 
 wine-cellar, into which the visitors had failed 
 to penetrate. 
 
 While the two new friends spoke apart, 
 Rory was watching his young master'^s eye. 
 
70 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 Their glances met, and Rory made an expres- 
 sive sign. 
 
 " Why, yes, foster-father," said the boy, 
 smihng sadly, " make your very heart glad, 
 and bring it out at once ; the only fragment of 
 finery he has been able to snatch at in the day 
 of waste. Sir," he continued, addressing his 
 guest. 
 
 Rory ran to the side of the den, and began 
 displacing some huge stones piled up against it. 
 John Sharpe laid down the leg of a hare which 
 he had been tearing with his teeth, and watched 
 his rapid motions with some suspicion. Pre- 
 sently appeared a hole, which the old man's ex- 
 ertions had cleared, and into this he thrust his 
 arm at full length, and drew forth, what seemed 
 a bundle of twisted hay ; but finally he pro- 
 duced from the careful envelope a massive sil- 
 ver cup, supported by three legs, highly em- 
 bossed, and showing the crest of the O'Burkes. 
 It was quickly placed on the ground at his 
 young master''s right-hand, and supper went on. 
 
 Patrick O'Burke, though but a boy, cour- 
 teously attended to his guest. Rory Laherty 
 " made much"' of John Sharpe, who, wrought 
 upon, chiefly by the good food and liquor, and, 
 at length, a little by the old man's eager hos- 
 
THE LAST BAR0:N OF CRANA. 7I 
 
 pitality, condescended to relax the austere ri- 
 gidness of his features, and to subside into the 
 kind of contemptuous ironical mirth which he 
 sometimes exhibited. While Rory continued 
 to overheap the flat stone before him, or re- 
 filled his horn — " Thanks til ye, mon,"' John 
 would grumble, slowly smacking his lips, as he 
 stared straightforward to his master, just smil- 
 ing in a sort that seemed to say, '' How stricken 
 by our presence the Papishes be, poor bodies ! 
 but the fare 's no' so bad neither : so, come." 
 Had he known Rory better, he would not have 
 felt so flattered by his civilities. The old fellow 
 was every whit as shrewd as he, and, strange to 
 assert, thought John Sharpe as great a block- 
 head as John Sharpe thought Rony Laherty : 
 nay, they hated and despised each other with 
 equal force on both sides, although each made 
 the egotistical mistake of imagining that it was 
 impossible his companion could respond his 
 sentiments ; or, it should rather be said, such 
 an idea never entered into the head of either. 
 Their mutual oversight, as well as their mutual 
 rancour, sprang from their ignorance. Had 
 Rory thought less uncharitably, and more 
 justly, of the heresy of Protestantism ; and had 
 John Sharpe known an iota of Rory's creed, 
 
72 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 they would have proved better friends : and 
 again, had they previously observed the dif- 
 ferent manners in which subdued, though 
 strongly-felt sentiments were indicated in their 
 different communities — that is, had Jolm had 
 opportunities of studying the Roman Catholic 
 people of the South, and Rory the Protestant 
 people of the North, (than whom scarce any 
 two of the nations of the earth can differ more 
 widely,) John's sententiousness and sober gruff- 
 ness would not have seemed stupidity to his 
 entertainer, nor Rory's garrulity and vivacious 
 energy, something of the same kind to the en- 
 tertained person ; at the same time, that neither 
 manner could have long hidden the mental 
 reserves which both were now so successful in 
 disguising. Such are the mistakes occasioned 
 by not knowing the world. 
 
 But, apart from the mere habitual shrewd- 
 ness of Rory in veiling his dislike and contempt 
 under a guise of vehement politeness, that might 
 well pass for folly, he had at present a parti- 
 cular motive for so doing. He hoped that his 
 young master was to be served by the new- 
 comers ; and he would as soon have put his arm 
 to roast for them, in the turfen fire, as by word 
 or look convey any offence that might mar the 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. ^3 
 
 fortunes of the last son of Sir Redmond O 'Burke. 
 In perfect candour, he was farther helped on in 
 his amiable duplicity — (there is such a thing, 
 even if Rory does not deserve having it said of 
 him,) — by a lurking fear that the friendship 
 proffered by the strangers was hollow, and as- 
 sumed only for the purpose of entrapping and 
 destroying his foster-son and himself. 
 
 After the meal had proceeded some time, 
 Patrick O'Burke, raising the massive cup to his 
 lips, which now brimmed with wine, said, in a 
 low tone that would not disturb the sleeping 
 priest — " Mr. Pendergast, it does not beseem 
 my years to drink bumpers of claret, and I, 
 therefore, stand excused if I but put my lips 
 to this cup : but, my lips I ivill put to it, to 
 toast your health. Sir, and welcome to O 'Burke's 
 country." 
 
 *' Thanks, my boy ; and I will take it now, 
 to drink to our future love and good fellowship 
 in Far North.'' 
 
 " I join you, in the heart. Sir ; and yet it 
 will be a black day, the day I leave the place I 
 was born in, and know so well, for one that 
 holds none of my kindred, and that I have never 
 seen : the fields, and hills, and streams, and 
 
 VOL. L E 
 
1'^ THE LAST BARON OF GHANA. 
 
 glins, Rory," turning to his foster-father, while 
 his eyes moistened, " every stick and stone of 
 which you and I could tell — ay, to the very 
 yellow pebbles on the bottom of the clear brook 
 in the summer, — and I to go, alone, Rory, to 
 make acquaintance with new hills, and glins, 
 and streams."*' 
 
 *' Rory shall come with us, if you like," in- 
 terrupted Pendergast. The proposition dried 
 the tears of Patrick and the old man, and the 
 latter, jumping up with a joyful cry, ran to 
 embrace his young master ; and then he knelt 
 and kissed, not in a mere formal way, but 
 twenty times over, Captain Pendergasfs hand. 
 
 " The blubbering Papish," grumbled Sharpe : 
 " and what does your honour preceesely intend 
 that Mr. Rory should do, in the bonny North .^'' 
 he continued, addressing his master. 
 
 "Just any thing he is most fit and able to 
 do for his bread, John.*' 
 
 '* Troth, jest," pursued John : " and, doubt- 
 less, that will consist in service upon the body 
 cf his young master, there." 
 
 " Ay — nien, Rory says," interrupted the ob- 
 ject of Sharpens questions ; — " him larn. Sir Pa- 
 trick," bowing to his foster-son — " him larn. Sir 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 75 
 
 Patrick, shoot more rabbit — more bird — sure, 
 ay — always more — but never nien sarvice else, 
 Rory know — can make nien, indeed, ocliown." 
 
 " He speaks true. Sir," said Patrick ; " old 
 Rory would prove but a clumsy body-man, 
 and, moreover, the want of liberty, the want of 
 sun and air, ay, and [shower and storm, and a 
 country-side to roam over, would soon kill the 
 old man, I fear," he added in a whisper. 
 
 " Then, let Rory be our gamekeeper, John,*" 
 resumed Pendergast, smiling with an expres- 
 sive meaning at his m.an ; "it seems the office 
 he best can fill at Pendergast Hall." 
 
 Patrick and Rory were again delighted ; but 
 John Sharpe answered only in a dry way, 
 although he felt anguish within him : " It 's 
 like, so ; nevertheless, your honour used to 
 think that one John Sharpe could fill the place 
 too; troth, jest.*" 
 
 " But, surely, can fill others as well, to a 
 tittle, John ; and as M'Nevin is dead, I had a 
 thought of making my late gamekeeper my 
 future land-steward." 
 
 " See there til it V resumed the new officer, 
 his eyes opening widely upon his master, in 
 mixed surprise and pleasure ; " thanks til your 
 E 2 
 
76 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 honour," he continued, when a selfish abstrac- 
 tion gave him time, and even yet the words had 
 little energy in them ; " and maybe, I can't, as 
 your honour says ;" now he grew, according to 
 him, pleasant ; " maybe, I can't fill auld Sam 
 M'Nevin's shoes ; no harm in trying, howsom- 
 ever; hugh, ugh !" 
 
 " Well, John ; report what hour it is." 
 " Come out, Tell-truth," chuckled John, be- 
 coming still more mirthful, as, slowly and cau- 
 tiously, he drew from his poke the article he so 
 encomiastlcally addressed. At first appeared, 
 suspended to a steel chain of massive propor- 
 tions, something in a brown leather case ; which 
 case, smiling all the time, he slid off; then the 
 eye rested on another leather case, of different 
 texture from the first ; and finally, he exposed 
 to view a watch, of the diameter of, and almost 
 as round as a twenty-four pound shot, of which 
 the back was encrusted with some green compo- 
 sition ; and that back, as well as the glass of 
 the huge time-piece, underwent furbishing from 
 the loose cuff of his jacket, ere John continued, 
 smiling affectionately at the hands of the dial, 
 *' Precesely half of the hour, and the saxth 
 minute after eleven of the clock at night, by ane 
 watch that's as true as the sun; troth, jest ! 
 
THE LAST BARO.V OF CRANA. 77 
 
 by which account," proceeding to envelope his 
 infallible oracle ^gain ; '* as I reckon, his 
 Papish reverence, yon, has enjoyed indifferent 
 sound sleep these three hours last passed ; — 
 though, bless my gracious eyes ! he sleeps no 
 longer, nevertheless !" added John, staring at the 
 priest, and starting in some alarm, as he found 
 the eyes of the supposed sleeper fixed on his. 
 
 " No, friend, I do not sleep ; and if I have 
 slept, it was against my will and my purpose," 
 answered Father James, rapidly, and in a husky 
 voice; " and to the unintended lapse I owe, 
 doubtless, the ill chance of falling into merciless 
 hands," he continued, his eyes expressing a wild 
 and incoherent agitation ; " but since it is so, 
 welcome the fate that, often narrowly 'scaped, 
 gives me rest at last ; and I but pray " 
 
 " Father James !" interrupted young O'Burke, 
 who had stepped softly to his back, and, as he 
 spoke, he caught his old friend by the arm. 
 Without looking behind, or, as it seemed, re- 
 collecting the sound of a well-known voice, the 
 ' ecclesiastic shrieked hoarsely, flung himself on 
 his face, and in broken, but still rapid sentences, 
 went on — " That you shoot me, or sabre me, on 
 the open plat, in the wood — my sole prayer ! 
 that ye drag me up — fling me at the foot of the 
 
78 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 cross of stones — I raised the sign of hope, there, 
 with my own hands, since the night-fall — we 
 were all so much in need of a chapel for wor- 
 ship — and then I went to seek some that would 
 be glad to meet me in it — an old man and a 
 young boy " 
 
 " They are at your side ; see," resumed Pa- 
 trick ; " feel my hand, Father James — ^hear my 
 voice, your old pupil's voice "*' 
 
 Again crying out, feebly though wildly, the 
 priest knelt up, caught Patrick in his arms, and 
 continued, " You in the toils, too ! and for 
 me ! doubtless, for me ! you sought to save 
 your poor tutor, Patrick, and now you share 
 his lot ! May God" forgive me ! — But oh, I do 
 not deserve forgiveness for this ! I should not 
 have wandered here to peril you ! The rocks 
 and the caves were my fitter abode — and there, 
 Patrick, there I could have baffled them for ever 
 and a day, good boy ! Ay, ever since the flight, 
 on the first morning, my limbs got the strength 
 and fleetness of your own stag-hounds ! when 
 they showed themselves at a distance, among 
 the clouds of the hills, I have ventured leaps, 
 Patrick, from rock to rock, that would put 
 your feats to shame !" he now whispered less 
 distinctly than before, and the vague smiles 
 
THE LAST BARON OP CRANA. 79 
 
 which accompanied his words bespoke his shat- 
 tered state of mind. 
 
 Seclusion, indeed, severe study, and a total 
 ignorance of the world, had, previous to the re- 
 cent shock it received, divested that mind of the 
 power of resisting a great and unexpected cala- 
 mity. Pendergast, from a conversation with 
 Patrick, as well as from his own remarks, saw 
 how the case stood, and applied himself to con- 
 sole the sufferer. At first he allowed the boy 
 to try his unassisted efforts ; and, after some 
 time, Father James seemed disposed to believe 
 that his pupil and himself were not encompassed 
 by enemies, or placed in immediate or deadly 
 peril. But it was a much harder task to give him 
 a single clear perception of the fact that, accord- 
 ing to the Treaty of Limerick, so lately signed, 
 his religion, and he, as a minister of that reli- 
 gion, were safe from future hostility, and en- 
 titled to a recognition and a place in the land. 
 The priest smiled again at such assertions, and 
 it was evident that his wavering recollection of 
 what he had gone through, merely because he 
 was a Catholic priest, now made him incredu- 
 lous, at once, and incapable, by re-exciting his 
 mind, of deliberative reasoning upon this topic. 
 Captain Pendergast seconded Patrick, in vain, 
 
80 THE LAST BARON OP CRANA. 
 
 giving himself as authority for the good tidings 
 both sought to impress. The clergyman told 
 Patrick he was imposed upon, and Pendergast 
 that he wished to create a delusion for some 
 terrible purpose. 
 
 At length Patrick adduced, as strong though 
 indirect proof of the truth, the proposal of Cap- 
 tain Pendergast, a Protestant gentleman, and an 
 officer bearing King William's commission, to 
 convey him, Patrick, and his old foster-father, 
 openly to his residence in the North, and there 
 give them countenance and protection : and 
 with fresh tears the boy related the events which 
 had prompted Pendergast to offer such an ar- 
 rangement. And now the listener's reason seem- 
 ed finally to be appealed to through his feelings. 
 At the mention of Sir Redmond O'Burke's 
 death, and of the last words between him and his 
 foe-friend, tutor and pupil mingled their tears ; 
 and, after yielding to a long fit of grief, the cler- 
 gyman looked into Pendergast's face more ex- 
 pressively than he had before done, and return- 
 ed the friendly pressure which King William's 
 officer meant for his reassurance. 
 
 For some minutes ensuing, his lips moved as 
 if in prayer ; then he glanced around from one 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 81 
 
 to another of the persons who surrounded him, 
 and up to the opening into the retreat, as if his 
 mind was beginning to get back the power of 
 making distinct observations, and comprehend- 
 ing the present by the past. Suddenly he 
 started, and again growing terrified and doubt- 
 ful, asked who they were who had fired shots at 
 him when he stood in a window of the castle — 
 "some hours before — or days — or yesterday — 
 in the evening— or at the dawn, he was not as- 
 sured which ?'' 
 
 Pendergast, frankly admitting that he and 
 his attendant fired the shots alluded to, pro- 
 ceeded to explain that no pistol had been point- 
 ed at him. The spirit-broken and feeble-mind- 
 ed man shook his head, and was silent. Patrick 
 and Rory, while John Sharpe did not vouchsafe 
 a word, upheld Pendergast's story to be true ; 
 still he would not, or again shaken in his rea- 
 soning capabilities, could not be convinced. 
 
 " Sham friends," he muttered — " heretic 
 friends : God pity us, God guide us ; — and you 
 are going with them, Patrick ? M'ith them, 
 and to the black North ? where there is neither 
 priest nor prayers of your own ? ah !" This 
 new view of the subject seemed wholly to divert 
 E 5 
 
82 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 him from every other, and while he continued 
 to rave upon it, seemed fast reducing him to 
 utter imbecility of mind. Pendergast hastened 
 to break up and rout the thick-coming delusions, 
 somewhat impatient, at length, of the poor 
 priest's unreasonable pertinacity, though still 
 he pitied him, and, as his words will show, wish- 
 ed to comfort him. 
 
 " Father James, since so my adopted boy 
 calls you, listen to a few plain words from a 
 plain man. Patrick O 'Burke is meant fair, 
 ay, fair, in every particular ; and in that of 
 his religious opinions, as well as in every other. 
 It has never entered into my head to assail 
 even what I must consider the prejudices of his 
 education."*' 
 
 " Impure errors, superstitions, idolatries, 
 crying blasphemies ; troth, jest," emendated 
 Sharpe. 
 
 " Be silent, John, or I will break your pate," 
 said his master ; " or more, you get no land- 
 stewardship at my hands. I am followed by a 
 bigot fool, Sir," re-addressing the priest ; " only 
 he ever says more harm and offence than he 
 has brains, or even heart, bad as he is, to mean 
 or feel : heed him not, but still give me your 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 83 
 
 attention. This boy shall live in his father's 
 faith, so far as I can help it ; I swear it to him 
 and to you by the word and honour of a gentle- 
 man, a soldier, and a christian ; I swear it by 
 his father's memory, and by the love and awe I 
 bear that memory. And he shall hear his own 
 prayers too, and say them with his own priest, 
 if you are willing. Come with him to the 
 North. You have been his tutor also, and he 
 will still need your instructions ; and even on 
 this account, I say to you, come with him.'" 
 
 This speech, as the speaker hoped it would 
 have done, arrested and fixed the vague ideas of 
 the person to whom it was addressed. After 
 some farther conversation, he acknowledged 
 himself convinced, and gratefully willing to ac- 
 company his beloved Patrick wherever their 
 new patron should command. With a little en- 
 treaty, he was prevailed upon to assist in consu- 
 ming the portion of supper which his unexpect- 
 ed awaking, and its results, had left to cool ; 
 and with an intellect considerably re-arranged, 
 though still disposed to shake to pieces at the 
 slightest start, he laid himself down to take a 
 fresh sleep. All followed his example in good 
 heart, except John Sharpe, who, as he plucked 
 
84 THE LAST BAROI^J OF CRANA. 
 
 his short pipe from his tenacious and reluctant 
 teeth, to prepare himself for slumber, uttered a 
 groan, which, to his master's ear, protested 
 against all the proceedings of the night, and, as 
 it were, cried shame upon them, and appealed 
 against them to a higher tribunal 
 
THE {.AST BARON OP CRANA. 85 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A CHEERY October sun came streaming down 
 through the open orifice, and the minor cran- 
 nies of the half-subterranean abode, to awaken 
 the sleepers, and bid them be up and doing. 
 Old Rory awoke first, and set about preparing 
 a morning meal ; his motions being less vehe- 
 ment than usual, out of deference to his guests, 
 whom he would fain allow to slumber on, until 
 they should waken of their own accord. 
 
 But the watchful habits of Captain Pen- 
 dergast and his man soon broke up their sleep 
 also; and while the priest and the boy yet 
 slept profoundly, John Sharpe was command- 
 ed by his master to ascend the ladder, emerge 
 into day, and look after their horses, whom 
 John had tied to two trees the previous night. 
 
 " And move softly, John, so as not to startle 
 our friends here," whispered Pendergast ; " and 
 
86 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 if you have need to speak, let it be under your 
 breath." 
 
 The old dragoon slowly crept up the ladder, 
 and when his eyes came upon a level with the 
 opening, and that he could see out over the 
 patch of cleared ground abroad, his captain ob- 
 served him stop short, and heard him mutter in 
 great indignation. 
 
 "What's to do now, John Sharpe ?'' still 
 whispering. 
 
 " More papishes,'' answered John ; " and 
 caught openly at their works of idolatry, troth 
 jest ; but I 'se be one among 'em." 
 
 " Come down. Sir," ordered his master, as he 
 began to quicken his strides up the ladder, 
 " and let me understand all this ; else, in breach 
 of what may now be called the land's law, you 
 do something to endanger as well as disgrace 
 yourself, and me whom you serve." 
 
 Grumbling sorely, John descended accord- 
 ingly, and sat apart in about the middle of the 
 den, folding his arms hard, and sucking his 
 short pipe disapprovingly. 
 
 Pendergast gained the step of the ladder upon 
 which he had recently stood, and looking abroad 
 as he had done, saw a very young and hand- 
 some man, in French military attire, kneeling 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. S^ 
 
 upon one knee beside Father James's cross of 
 stones, and holding in his hand his broad- 
 brimmed peaked hat, from which streamed a 
 profuse plume of white feathers, as his lips 
 moved seemingly in prayer. The colour of 
 health was high on his cheeks, and his blue 
 eyes, although somewhat controlled by the pre- 
 sent occupation of his mind, sparkled spiritedly, 
 perhaps rather recklessly. His own brown 
 hair, ample as the absurd perriwig of the day, 
 and disposed Hke one, fell adown his back ; and 
 his dress was in the extreme of even French 
 finery. Point-lace fringed his loosely-tied neck- 
 cloth ; he wore a highly-polished breast-piece, 
 with pauldrons, over a white satin waistcoat, of 
 which the lower edges, and those of its great 
 pocket-flaps, were edged with silver ; across the 
 breast-piece came a red-ribbon; his coat left 
 open, and almost falling off, so liberal were its 
 dimensions, and so wide its sleeves, was of light- 
 blue velvet, and also embroidered ; very little 
 of a tight-fitting small-clothes could be seen, his 
 waistcoat hung so low, and his boots, after 
 passing the knees, came up so high, gaping 
 widely round the thigh, although they clung 
 closely and foppishly to the leg ; and even his 
 gloves were fine things, set off with fanciful 
 
S8 THE LAST BARON OP CRANA. 
 
 needle-work, and deep fringe. Behind him 
 stood two attendants, holding three horses, and 
 wearing military uniform too, though of a 
 more modest kind than that of their master ; 
 but they were unarmed, while he had pistols in 
 his belt, and a gay sword at his side. 
 
 Captain Pendergast was struck with the 
 pleasure-giving face and air of the young offi- 
 cer — one, as he could determine at a glance, 
 lately in the field for King James, and wearing 
 attire supplied to that unhappy monarch, for 
 his Irish generals and captains, by his loving 
 cousin, Louis of France. Looking closer at the 
 youthful devotee, he perceived that the star of 
 nobility glittered on the left breast of his open 
 coat ; and " Ay," concluded Pendergast ; *' one 
 of the to-he peerages made by old Shamus, 
 like his Sarsfield's Lucan Lordship; and now 
 about as much value as his brass sixpences : 
 let the lad have the benefit of it, however, so 
 far as he can, for me ; as well as of his stock- 
 and-stone piety, here ; I '11 not disturb him till 
 his devotions be over, such as they are.*" 
 
 So saying, the unseen observer began to de- 
 scend the ladder. He had made but a few 
 steps, when he felt the clumsy and ill-contrived 
 machine give way, and a second after, it fell to 
 
THE LAST BARON OF GHANA. 89 
 
 pieces on the bottom of the retreat, and he lay, 
 somewhat stunned, though not hurt, beside it. 
 The crash awoke the priest and young O'Burke. 
 as their alarmed cries soon testified. John 
 Sharpe, uttering a grunt, half of apprehension, 
 half of content, at what, in his heart, he regard- 
 ed as a just judgment upon his backsliding cap- 
 tain, prepared to stand up from his sulky po- 
 sition on the middle of the floor, or ground, 
 when other voices were heard calling out, over- 
 head, and the ensuing moment, treble conster- 
 nation, wreck, and uproar, reigned around, 
 abroad, below, and above. It has been men- 
 tioned that old Rory and his youthful fellow- 
 builder had not constructed their roof strong 
 enough to resist an encroaching step on the 
 outside ; and now came a proof of their want 
 of foresight ; branches and boughs crackled, 
 immediately over John Sharpens head, and he 
 had scarce time to look up, when, with extended 
 arms and sprawling legs, the young gentleman, 
 whom he and his master had lately seen kneel- 
 ing at the cross, descended upon him, and land- 
 ing astride on the shoulders of the confounded 
 Enniskillener, suddenly grappled his ankles 
 round John's throat, and brought him to the 
 earth. And John only waited a return of his 
 
90 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 breath to roar lustily, although his teeth still 
 held his pipe as tight as craVs claws could 
 have done ; and to kick, and cufF, and writhe, 
 and curse, and imprecate as furiously as if he 
 had never called himself of the elect and rege- 
 nerated, or as if his every-day prudence had 
 not subdued, on all ordinary occasions, the sin- 
 ful habit which, among many others, he* was 
 fond of laying at the doors of blaspheming 
 papishes, exclusively. The bewildered priest, 
 awaking amid such horrors, temporarily re- 
 lapsed into all his former frightened insanity, 
 and seconded John Sharpe with startling cries ; 
 Patrick O'Burke, losing his usual self-com- 
 mand, also cried aloud; Captain Pendergast, 
 scrambling amid broken branches and boughs, 
 and unable to see any thing, called, very an- 
 grily upon his servant, to cease his vile clamour, 
 and come to his assistance ; the two attendants 
 of the young and gallant intruder stood upon 
 the verge of the partial chasm he had made, 
 and joined their voices to the uproar below ; 
 and Rory Laherty, who had been struck down 
 by the limb of a tree, — one of his own vain raf- 
 ters, — and whose fire and cookery lay hidden be- 
 neath a great portion of the roof, sent up the 
 wildest ejaculations of all, clapping his hands 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 91 
 
 whenever he could free them of the many sur- 
 rounding impediments. 
 
 The causer of all this confusion was the only 
 person who made no outcry about it, and he 
 was also the first to muster his presence of mind. 
 John Sharpe had just uttered the words — a cli- 
 max to many previous ones — '* Off wi' ye from 
 my throttle, ye unlucky papish ! off wi' ye, and 
 be d — d, ye stone- w^orshipper, and ye house- 
 breaker ! off wi' ye, I tell ye, or, by ! ye 
 
 shall have cold lead instead of hot meat, in 
 your bread-basket, til your break'st, the morn!*' 
 John, we say, had just uttered these words, 
 when his rider unclasped his legs from his neck 
 and breast, laid himself on his back, drew up 
 his limbs till the soles of his boots rested on the 
 shoulders of the impatient animal he had lately 
 bestrode, and saying, in a light tone, " There, 
 then, old psalm-twanger !"' shoved John many 
 paces forward, among the Htter of the fallen 
 roof, and then springing to his feet, continued, 
 " God save all here, this fine morning, and 
 peace between us ! and no offence, I hope, 
 good people, in an intrusion that, assuredly, 
 has been as much against my will as it can be 
 against yours." 
 
 " And, before the Lord, you shall be taught 
 
92 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 how much against our will it 2S," threatened 
 John Sharpe, scrambling towards the speaker, 
 as he prepared to draw his sword ; " and how 
 much against my will you have dared til kick 
 me with the heels of your boots, in base requi- 
 tal for your first descent on my head, and my 
 patient enduring of the same." 
 
 " Off with you, old limb of old Noll !" cried 
 the stranger, also unsheathing his brilliant 
 blade, " or I will send you to ask him how he 
 likes his warm corner — you know where." 
 
 The young man's attendants now rushed 
 down the sides of the almost fully-exposed hol- 
 low, crying out, in Irish, that none should touch 
 their master ; Rory, enlisted as their ally by 
 the sound of their language, joined them ; the 
 priest clasped Patrick O'Burke in his arms, 
 and held him apart from the scene ; and Cap- 
 tain Pendergast, still doomed to be the only 
 peace-maker, stepped between John Sharpe and 
 new foes. 
 
 Wrenching the old sword from his man's 
 hand, he threatened to visit him with its flat be- 
 tween the shoulders, if he did not fall aside, and 
 leave unnoticed what could only have been an 
 accident. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 93 
 
 " Thanks, Sir," resumed the young gentle- 
 man politely, and with a dash of courtier-like 
 breeding, moving his fine-plumed hat, which he 
 had just picked up from among the boughs and 
 leaves ; " and you have rightly understood the 
 matter ; so that to you I am assured I need not 
 repeat that my coming in here was unintended ; 
 although I am no way unwilling to express my 
 sorrow for the damage I have done, and the 
 fright I must have occasioned." 
 
 " We are content to set off your own fright 
 against ours. Sir,"' answered Pendergast ; " see- 
 ing that, in all conscience, yours ought to be 
 the greater : as for the damage, we can afford 
 it, passing well, so long as there grow trees in 
 the wood, and as a stag can be seen within shot, 
 in the park, hard-by." 
 
 " If that be all, then," resumed the intruder, 
 " I shall begin to think that I merit commise- 
 ration and fair apologies for having had a pit set 
 for my life, more than any of ye, Sir, merit my 
 excuses, that I could not keep my feet from the 
 snare :" this was said in a laughing tone ; " but, 
 faith !" he continued, in a graver mood, " I 
 feared some one might chance to have been 
 hurt." 
 
94 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 " None of us say as muck," resumed Pen- 
 dergast, looking round ; " at least I answer for 
 myself, and for my servant." 
 
 " Oh, he has already answered, on his own 
 account," said the stranger. John Sharpe, sud- 
 denly changing into his mood of bitter irony, 
 assented with his usual tame chuckle. " Come 
 forward, Patrick CBurke, and satisfy us con- 
 cerning yourself and your tutor,*" continued 
 Captain Pendergast. 
 
 " Patrick O'Burke ? is he here ?" demanded 
 the young man. 
 
 " I am Patrick CBurke," said the boy, at 
 last disengaging himself from his anxious war- 
 den, and advancing. 
 
 " Then I embrace you, Patrick — the son of 
 your father's friend embraces you ; and though 
 both our fathers be taken from us, that is no 
 reason why we should not prove friends to each 
 other : I am Philip Walsh, Baron of Crana."" 
 
 " My father has often spoken of yours, in- 
 deed, Baron of Crana," said the boy, accept- 
 ing and returning in a manly style the French 
 accolade which was proffered to him. 
 
 " Ay, and mine of yours, Patrick," an- 
 swered the young nobleman ; " and knowing 
 this, as well as in obedience to the last wishes of 
 
THE LAST BARON OF GRANA. 95 
 
 the last Baron of Crana, here I came to but, 
 
 saints of Heaven ! we must choose another au- 
 dience-room, for this grows too hot to hold us." 
 
 Althouo^h the timber and leaves of the roof 
 had hidden Rory's fire for a time, they had 
 not extinguished, but rather added fresh fuel to 
 it ; in fact, the flame had now spread amongst 
 the branches and boughs which the young Baron 
 of Crana had urged down upon the red turf 
 used by the old man for his cooking, and came 
 bursting out, through thick smoke, with a 
 strength that promised to extend its ravages 
 over all the inflammable materials in the pit, as 
 well as upon the portion of the frail roof which 
 still wavered overhead. 
 
 All readily assented to the young Baron's 
 suggestion of removing to a more convenient 
 place for conversation; and it became a real 
 scramble up the obstructed sides of the pit, to 
 the open plat which spread around from its 
 edges, each individual of the party anxious to 
 save himself. Arrived in the upper daylight, 
 Rory caused a general digression from previous 
 topics, by having recurrence to his hand-clap- 
 ping system of alarm, and mourning over the 
 destruction of the viands destined for breakfast. 
 To supply the loss, Patrick O'Burke volunteer- 
 
96 THE LAST BARON OF GRAN A. 
 
 ed to hasten to the park, and shoot a buck with 
 his cross-bow; his new friend, the Baron of 
 Crana, proposed, seemingly much amused, to 
 try his pistols upon some wood-birds ; Pender- 
 gast commanded John Sharpe to follow Rory, 
 with his carabine, to a rabbit-warren, and John 
 acquiesced with a better grace than his master 
 had expected, for he was hungry ; and thus, in 
 a few moments, the group were scattered in dif- 
 ferent directions, all except Father James and 
 his military patron ; and they, setting them- 
 selves down at opposite sides of the pile of 
 stones, awaited in silence the return of the pur- 
 veying party, each full of his own thoughts. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 97 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 After a silence of some length, Pendergast 
 suddenly arose, stood before the priest, and 
 asked him if the young O'Burke had hopes 
 of succeeding to any portion of the property 
 of his father. The clergyman, startled out of 
 a deep and wayward reverie, looked up at his 
 companion with all his former expression of 
 fright and vagueness in his eyes, and made no 
 answer. The question was repeated abruptly 
 and somewhat impatiently ; at the same time, 
 shots sounded near, from the Baron of Cr ana's 
 pistols, and John Sharpe'*s carabine, and ob- 
 viously losing consciousness of his real situa- 
 tion, and recollection of the recent events which 
 had produced it, the priest shrank closer to the 
 heap of stones, uttering feeble cries for mercy 
 or, at the least, " for time — time ! only a 
 little time !'' 
 
 VOL. I. P 
 
98 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 Here Captain Pendergast again had to exert 
 his ingenuity to lead back the poor man's mind 
 from its wanderings ; and, curbing his impa- 
 tience with his pity, he was soon successful, 
 or partially so. Once more the clergyman com- 
 prehended that, in the individual before him, 
 he and his darling pupil, and old Rory, were 
 called upon to recognise a protector : and when 
 Pendergast a third time proposed his question 
 — " His father's estate !" said the priest ; " No, 
 no ; not a blade of grass of it is Patrick's — not 
 a leaf of a tree." 
 
 " But the blades of grass and the trees re- 
 main, after all," urged the catechist. 
 
 "Remain not to him," persisted Father James. 
 Pendergast alluded to the Treaty of Limerick. 
 " We know, we know ; — enjoyment of their 
 estates to all comprehended in the treaty ;— not 
 to him ; not to my dear pupil." 
 
 " Sir Redmond O'Burke's estate has been 
 confiscated, then, under an outlawry, before his 
 
 death ?* 
 
 " Every sod, every bush, every stone ! Ay, 
 ay, outlawry, outlawry ! God help us ! God 
 pity us !" his terrors again began to master 
 him. 
 
 " At this rate, I have m iscalculated, indeed," 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 99 
 
 said the Captain, only speaking to himself, as 
 he remembered how anxiously he had before 
 interpreted the Treaty of Limerick in Patrick 
 CBurke's favour. 
 
 "^ What, what ?"' resumed the priest : " so 
 disappointed, Sir Captain ? The good Tipperary 
 acres would indemnify for our housing, and 
 feeding, and hiding : but now that you can 
 reckon on none "*' 
 
 Pendergast interrupted him sternly, to set 
 him right ; and it was remarkable that his 
 decided manner had the effect of steadying 
 instead of scaring the reasoning faculties of his 
 wayward friend. Perhaps the manner and lan- 
 guage of truth and sincerity at once convinced 
 the sceptic, at the same time that Pender- 
 gast's frowning brow, fixed eye, and authorita- 
 tive voice might have had an effect usual in 
 most cases of mental aberration. 
 
 " Wonderful to hear,"" resumed Father James 
 — " wonderful to hear, and a miracle to believe ; 
 one of our taskers, and one of our masters, and 
 one of our persecutors, takes us into his house, 
 and keeps us, and hides us— And our chapel.'* 
 — will you build us a chapel, too ? or give 
 us leave for one under the roof that is to 
 shelter us?"*" 
 
 f2 
 
100 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 Captain Pendergast replied that, renouncing 
 in his heart, as he did, many of the observances 
 of Popery, he could scarce think himself con- 
 scientiously free to permit, under his very roof, 
 the performance of its ceremonies. Patrick 
 O'Burke and his tutor might, nevertheless, find 
 themselves uninterrupted in their religious du- 
 ties at Pendergast-hall : Rony would have a 
 little lodge in the grounds, close at hand, and 
 they could visit him at their pleasure. 
 
 The priest seemed to understand this answer, 
 and to be contented with it, and was growing 
 calmer, w'hen to give fresh excitement to his 
 vibrating mind, the flames burst furiously out 
 of the pit, near them, and the remnant of the 
 deceitful roof fell in. He was, indeed, fast re- 
 lapsing into mental confusion, when Patrick 
 O'Burke appeared, leading back his purveying 
 party, all now well laden with a supply for 
 breakfast. But when his pupil sat by his side, 
 and exchanged a few words with him, he seemed 
 disposed to be happier than his friends had seen 
 him since his visit to the den the previous night. 
 Rony Laherty, John Sharpe, and — laughing at 
 his task, and boasting of his success among the 
 wood-pigeons — the J young Baron of Crana, 
 began to prepare the morning repast, and the 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 101 
 
 priest looked on, much pleased. They brought 
 brands from the edge of the burning pit to 
 make a fire for cooking their meat, and he rub- 
 bed his hands gleeishly, and laughed in a low 
 key, often changing his eyes from their proceed- 
 ings to Patrick's face. 
 
 Presently arose Rory Laherty's usual wail- 
 ings at the recollection that his wine-cellar was 
 choaked up by the burning mass of branches, 
 reeds, and rushes. The young Baron seriously 
 sympathized with him ; but Pendergast sug- 
 gested that a draught more healthy than wine, 
 and more seemly for a morning meal, could be 
 obtained near at hand, out of the clear bubbling 
 spring. 
 
 *' Fetch it, Rory,'' said Patrick, " if indeed 
 you can find a vessel to raise the water : but ' 
 your cup is gone at last, I reckon." 
 
 " Nien, nicn, nien !" answered Rory, pulling 
 the esteemed vessel out of his great pocket, and 
 running to the spring. 
 
 The viands were ready for eating, and Pen- 
 dergast, Patrick, Philip of Crana, and the Priest, 
 sat down on the grass to partake of them ; 
 Rory, John Sharpe, and the Baron's attendants 
 removino; to some distance. The conversation 
 of the principal party soon became interesting. 
 
102 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 Pendergast inquired if the late Baron of Crana 
 had been " out, on the late occasions ?" 
 
 " Until the Boyne affair, Sir,'' answered the 
 young nobleman; "and then there happened that 
 to him which allows me this day to bear his title." 
 
 " You had an elder brother. Baron ?" said 
 Patrick. 
 
 ** Yes, O'Burke ; poor Roger ! Hillsboro' 
 was no success for him, though a boasted one 
 for his cause. You will believe me, that I sor- 
 row for Roger's death, as a brother for a brother 
 whom he well loved ; and yet his being alive 
 now, would little serve either of us, except in 
 the regard of loving one another still in mis- 
 fortune." 
 
 Captain Pendergast said he did not under- 
 stand. 
 
 '' I speak no riddles, notwithstanding, Sir : 
 had my brother Roger lived a day, an hour, a 
 second after my father, and had the fact been 
 known to our new keepers, he and I, and, worse 
 of all, our only merry little sister, now shelter- 
 ing in France, perhaps in Spain, were at present 
 no more than penniless, nameless beggars on 
 tlie face of the earth." — 
 
 " Like me," said Patrick O'Burke. 
 
 " — For," continued the Baron, "poor Roger, 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 103 
 
 for being one of the aptest foes of William and 
 Mary from the very beginning, was outlawed in 
 Meath, two years ago." 
 
 " Like my father," interrupted Patrick. 
 
 " Ay, O'Burke ;'' young Philip, tears in his 
 eyes, and smiles on his lips, stretched his hand 
 to the disinherited boy, and they exchanged in 
 silence a griping pressure. 
 
 " So that, had your father's estate, Baron," 
 said Pendergast, " been possessed, for any the 
 shortest time, by your outlawed brother — "" 
 
 " That is," interrupted the Baron, " as I 
 have declared before, had Roger but lived an 
 hour after my father, without ever really possess- 
 ing his estate, and no matter how remote from 
 the country in which it lies, he must have been 
 regarded as its owner ; and it would have passed 
 away from him, from me, from Dorcas our sis- 
 ter, from us .and ours, for ever." 
 
 " Well ; and now that a chance, which we 
 know not whether to call lucky or ill, preserves 
 it to you, Baron of Crana, we will hope that 
 you feel contented with the late arrangements, 
 by virtue of which that chance turns up in your 
 favour," resumed Pendergast. 
 
 " Contented ? ay, by St. Louis and St. Pa- 
 trick ! The double crown need not reckon on a 
 
104 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 better Irish subject that Philip Walsh. I have 
 been in France, Mr. Pendergast, and there 
 learned to enjoy life ; to live while I live, and 
 be thankful to those who leave me the means so 
 to do. Besides, St. Germain's is in France, and 
 I have spent a day there too, and had my op- 
 portunities for reading the character of the man 
 on whose account we have all been putting 
 ourselves to some trouble, and running some 
 chance of damage to the fair acres God bestow- 
 ed on us, if not of peril to our precious persons 
 also. And so, Sir, a merry life of peace for me, 
 in the hunt, on the bowling-green, and at a 
 merry board, (with something at my right hand 
 stronger than Rory's morning draught,) instead 
 of hard knocks and short commons in the ser- 
 vice of old Shamus." 
 
 " Heartily spoken, Baron of Crana ; and, in 
 truth, there is little to lament over in the loss of 
 your late master,*' observed Pendergast. 
 
 '' Except the losses he has caused us. But no 
 matter ; vive la gaite ! — that is, in English, or in 
 Irish rather, long life to merry fellows ! ay, 
 and vice little Willy too ! he's no bad king to 
 me, and if I run the hazard of making him a 
 worse one to me, say I shall deserve the conse- 
 quences. Experience, come at what age it will, 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 105 
 
 makes us wise — or selfish, if you like. Sir, — wise 
 still, I say : and, young as I am, I have suffi- 
 ciently known reverses of fortune to like a good 
 prospect at the last ; ay, and though I profess 
 my disrelish of fighting, to day, have fought 
 enough into the bargain, to give me a title to 
 rest at peace during the next ten years, and the 
 next twenty, thirty, after that, if I can help it. 
 So, Mr. Pendergast — Captain Pendergast, I 
 should say — I drink to your good health, and to 
 the most excellent welfare of their anointed 
 
 Majesties King William and but I crave 
 
 your pardon ; ever I forget that we are put off 
 with Adam's ale this cold morning."" 
 
 "And your pleasant discourse makes me for- 
 get that I, and some others of this company, 
 should be in our saddles an hour ago, '"* said Pen- 
 dergast, rising. 
 
 " That brings me to speak of my true busi- 
 ness here," resumed the Baron. " While awav 
 from you. Sir, to help in providing our break- 
 fast, Patrick O'Burke gave me to understand 
 why we meet each other on the lands that are 
 no longer his ; therefore I do not hesitate to in- 
 form you that I, as well as you, rode hither from 
 Limerick, to claim the acquaintance and friend- 
 ship of the last O'Burke, and invite him to visit 
 f5 
 
106 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 me at my castle, whither I am directly bound : 
 and notwithstanding his story of your first right 
 to do him a kindness, I still have hopes that, in 
 recollection of the love long interchanged be- 
 tween his father and mine, to say nothing of our 
 agreement in certain important matters touch- 
 ing which you and Patrick can never hope to 
 agree, you will waive your honourable inten- 
 tions towards him, in my favour, and allow me 
 to take the boy home to the old Castle of 
 Crana." 
 
 " Let Patrick CBurke speak first,'"" said 
 Pendergast. 
 
 '' I have spoken. Sir," replied Patrick, " when 
 the Baron of Crana addressed me so kindly, 
 and we watching a buck, at the wood's edge, an 
 hour ago." 
 
 " For or against me, Patrick ?" 
 
 " For obeying the last breath of my father, 
 and following to the world's end his last friend, 
 Sir.' 
 
 " Thanks, my boy ; though, be assured, had 
 your opinion gone differently, it was not my 
 purpose to allow it to part us. Mine is a trust 
 which must not be broken. Meanwhile, I am 
 o-lad, for your sake, that Heaven raises you 
 up another anxious friend in this plain-spoken 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 107 
 
 and generous young nobleman ; and Patrick, 
 entreat him to ride with us a little way North, 
 before he revisits his own castle, and judge how 
 he shall like the son of his father's friend at 
 Pendergast-hall ; after which entreaty, we must 
 mount our horses, and make the most of this 
 sun-shiny day." 
 
 The Baron of Crana could not be persuaded, 
 however, to turn aside from his road, at the pre- 
 sent. He had, he said, to make order out of con- 
 fusion, in his long-uninhabited house ; and then 
 he would be bound to visit his sister in Spain, 
 where he believed she was now protected. But, 
 yielding to Pendergast's unostentatious invita- 
 tions, he consented to visit his young friend, 
 at no distant time, under the Captain's roof; 
 and, upon this understanding, all prepared for 
 their separate journeys. 
 
 It now became a question how Patrick and 
 the priest should be mounted : as to Rory, he 
 regarded the want of a horse as the least pos- 
 sible inconvenience, cheerfully stipulating to 
 trot on at the side of his young master But 
 two horses were indispensable for the pupil and 
 tutor ; and Philip of Crana insisted that those 
 belonging to his attendants should be accepted 
 by Patrick and the Priest, while the men could 
 
108 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 follow him afoot to the nearest place where they 
 might expect to be remounted. 
 
 *' And until we can procure a horse for Rory 
 Laherty, on our road home,'" said Pendergast, 
 '' you, John, will now and then give him a lift 
 behind your saddle." 
 
 " George Walker, which is the name of my 
 horse, given unto him in honour of the hero of 
 Derry, will not carry double for king or deevil,"' 
 answered John Sharpe. " I tried him once, 
 yon, after the Aughram business, with a loyal 
 mon, not to talk of a Papish, and his hinder 
 heels flew up in the air, as if it was the very 
 Pope of Rome he felt near his crupper." 
 
 '^ Then you and Rory must ride and tie, 
 John," resumed his master ; and this was said 
 in a voice and with a look from which John un- 
 derstood no appeal. 
 
 '' Now, Rory, go for Brann," said Patrick 
 O'Burke, the tears springing to his eyes, as the 
 preparations for travelling proceeded : and 
 Rory, darting into the wood, disappeared. 
 
 " And who is Brann, Patrick ?" asked Pen- 
 dergast. The boy answered that Brann was 
 the name of a dog — a young whelp, indeed, to 
 which he was much attached. His father, he 
 said, had taken great pains to preserve the breed 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 109 
 
 of the old wolf-hound, or stag-hound, of Ire- 
 land, and many of them had been about their 
 house until the coming of King William's sol- 
 diers, when, in consequence of their inveterate, 
 and, indeed, dangerous hostility to the intruders, 
 they had all been shot — all except the whelp, 
 Brann, who followed Patrick to the woods. 
 *' So that he is the last of his race, like his mas- 
 ter," «dded the boy ; " and while Rory and I 
 hid ourselves in the hole where you passed the 
 night, Sir, we thought it well to remove Brann 
 to a good distance, and tie him up there, lest his 
 yelpings, if by our side, might guide enemies to 
 our den : but he has been well fed, and often 
 visited during the day, and had a soft bed to 
 lie on, and a little shed to cover him." 
 
 While Patrick spoke, his friend Brann came 
 bounding out of the wood, followed by Rory, 
 and jumped upon his young master with such 
 headlong joy, that he threw him down. Cap- 
 tain Pendergast viewed with surprise the sta- 
 ture of the animal whom Patrick had described 
 as not full grown, observing, that if Brann had 
 yet to grow much more, he would end in being 
 a canine giant. Patrick assured his protector 
 that he had not attained half his size. Some 
 moments afterwards, the whole party were mak- 
 
110 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 ing way through the wood to the broad avenue, 
 such of them as had horses leading the animals 
 along. They gained the avenue, and all except 
 Rory and the Baron's attendants mounted to 
 their saddles. The cavalcade moved towards 
 the valley by which Pendergast had approached 
 the ruined house the night before; and now, 
 Rory Laherty's wild cries and lamentations 
 rang far and wide among the hills and woods. 
 Pendergast stole a glance at Patrick. His lips 
 were firmly closed, and he seemed to swallow 
 the tears which only glistened in his eye. He 
 gazed on straight before him, and would not 
 look either to the right or to the left, nor yet 
 turn round to catch for the last time a glimpse 
 of his ruined home. Rory's outcries grew 
 louder, and he bade him hold his peace. 
 
 The travellers emerged from the valley upon 
 the wretched road which ran across its entrance. 
 A few miles onward, they came to the spot at 
 which the Baron of Crana was to turn off on 
 his way to his own castle. The adieu between 
 him and young O 'Burke was warm and hearty 
 on his part; Patrick felt it more deeply, though 
 he spoke little. " You know which way to 
 ride, if you want a friend, O'Burke," said the 
 young Baron, pointing to the road he was about 
 
THE LAST BxVRON OF CRANA. Ill 
 
 to take, and an instant afterwards he spurred 
 his horse over it, followed by his dismounted 
 servants. 
 
 " And now for Pendergast Hall, Patrick," 
 said Pendergast; and the other travellers pushed 
 forward in the opposite direction, Rory and 
 Brann rivalling each other in the use of their 
 own legs. 
 
 John Sharpe had gradually recovered from 
 the ill-humour raised in him by his master's in- 
 junctions that he should ride-and-tie with Rory 
 Laherty, until a horse could be procured for 
 the old gamekeeper. The first incident which 
 diverted him was the priest's preparations for 
 mounting his steed. When John saw the ner- 
 vous poor man tucking up his long, torn robe, 
 at either side, and then awkwardly, and after 
 several failures, climbing to his saddle, he look- 
 ed on with a sneering, lugubrious smile of min- 
 gled astonishment, mirth, and contempt, which 
 now and then was farther modified by some 
 misgivings as to the decency of the exhibition, 
 and a confused impression that all he beheld was 
 miserable superstition, profaneness, and a novel 
 and curious illustration of the nastiness of the 
 Beast of Rome. Rory's outcries and extra- 
 vagance then added to his supercilious mirth ; 
 
112 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 and as all at last moved forward, after parting 
 from the young popish nobleman, whose title, 
 star, manners, and every thing connected with 
 him, seemed utter farce in the trooper''s eyes, 
 John Sharpe, glancing from the meagre, half- 
 bent figure of the Priest, to the grotesque one 
 of Rory Laherty, as he trotted, leading Brann, 
 at his stirrup, and then to the bare-headed, 
 poorly-attired boy v^^ho rode beside his master, 
 said between his teeth and his pipe, in an ex- 
 ceeding chuckle, " Well ; get us, now, but a 
 bear and an ape, and we are fit to make our 
 round of all the fairs, till Midsummer ; troth, 
 jest !" 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 113 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Pendergast halted his party a few days at 
 Clonmel, and here some provocations to John 
 Sharpens irony were removed. Patrick O'Burke 
 put off his old clothes for a suit more fitted to 
 his condition and change of fortune ; Father 
 James was prevailed upon to substitute for his 
 ragged serge robe, and the thread-bare ap- 
 pendages under it, a more ordinary dress of 
 black ; Rory Laherty became also improved in 
 his outward man, and moreover was elevated on 
 horseback. 
 
 Again the travellers moved rapidly forward, 
 and reached Dublin. In this city Captain 
 Pendergast had some friends, and he hastened 
 to make known among them his arrival from 
 the South, glad of an opportunity of convers- 
 ing with intelligent persons upon the public 
 topics of the day, an indulgence so long denied 
 
114 THE LAST BARON OT CRANA. 
 
 to him. He was anxious to find confirmed his 
 own sanguine hopes that the late termination of 
 the Civil war was acceptable among all parties, 
 and likely, from national unanimity, to en- 
 sure the future peace and good of Ireland. 
 Pendergast also felt solicitous to ascertain whe- 
 ther or not the temper of the times boded good 
 or ill luck to his adopted son, or promised 
 well for Patrick's comfort and happiness at 
 Pendergast Hall. 
 
 It was upon a Sunday morning that, leaving 
 the boy, Father James, and old Rroy, to find 
 out some place of devotion for themselves, he 
 went out, attended by John Sharpe, proposing 
 first to call at a friend's house, and then repair 
 to church. His friend was at home, at break- 
 fast, surrounded by many other gentlemen, and 
 the visitor soon heard discussed the topics which 
 so much interested him — but not in the way he 
 had anticipated. To his surprise and regret, 
 every voice was lifted up against the Treaty of 
 Limerick, as a measure of undeserved leniency 
 and favour to King James's adherents, and of 
 ungrateful injustice to King William's. The 
 speaker represented the expectation of the Pro- 
 testants of Ireland to have extended to the 
 total suppression of Popery, the total confisca- 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 115 
 
 tion of the estates and goods of every man who 
 had drawn a sword for James, and the con- 
 ferring of such property upon those who had 
 distinguished themselves as zealous supporters 
 of William and Mary. And the object at which 
 these sentiments seemed to aim, and the great 
 hope of the malcontents, was, that the parlia- 
 ments of England and of Ireland would not 
 ratify the Treaty of Limerick, but rather yield 
 to their remonstrances against it. 
 
 Captain Pendergast submitted, in vain, the 
 injustice of such an expectation. He reminded 
 his friends that the treat3^ was fairly the result 
 of the formidable attitude of James's Irish 
 partizans, and of Ginkle's perception and ad- 
 mission of what they had done, and what they 
 might do. He objected to have his Roman 
 Catholic countrymen considered as rebels for 
 their support of a monarch to whom they had 
 sworn allegiance, and who had never been de- 
 posed by the vote of an Irish Parliament. He 
 exclaimed against the inconsequential reasoning 
 which w^ould now oppress Catholics more than 
 they had been oppressed at the end of the reign 
 of Charles II. merely because they were Ca- 
 tholics, particularly by breaking through a 
 solemn treaty. And most of all, he expatiated 
 
116 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 Upon the hope which that treaty, if acted upon, 
 held out, to all men of just minds and cool 
 temperaments, of the national prosperity of 
 Ireland, promoted, in union, by her children of 
 every creed, equally free, or very nearly so, to 
 lend her the assistance of their talents and ener- 
 gies. In vain, we say, did Pendergast urge 
 these arguments. Thirst of monopoly, secta- 
 rian rancour, and colonial jealousy, united to 
 make his hearers deaf at heart to his appeal : 
 and in much sorrow, and some anger, he bade 
 his friends good morning, and again joined by 
 Sharpe, bent his way to the church where, as he 
 had been informed, the Archbishop of INIeath 
 was expected to preach, before high authorities 
 of the land, upon the self-same subject which 
 he had just been discussing. 
 
 John Sharpe walked behind his master with 
 an elated step, a high head, and every now and 
 then a heart-comforting chuckle. He had 
 heard quite as much in the kitchen of the 
 house they had visited, as his captain had 
 heard in the parlour, and his soul was glad 
 within him accordingly. "It won't do,"" Pen- 
 dergast heard him say — " it won't do, this time : 
 no petticoat priests cocked up a-horseback ; 
 with their knees going til scratch their ears ; — 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. II7 
 
 Ugh, ugh ; no Baron-me-that, and Sir Pat- 
 me-this, let go to canter it, and tatter it, 
 and hell-rake it about the country — ugh, 
 ugh." 
 
 Much inclined to turn round upon his man, 
 and yet forbearing to notice him, Pendergast 
 gained Christ Church. Doctor Dopping, Arch- 
 bishop of Meath, mounted the pulpit, and in 
 the face of the representatives of power in Ire- 
 land, as well as to a numerous congregation, 
 propounded the same doctrines, touching the 
 politics of the day, which Pendergast had heard 
 broached in his friend's house, with this differ- 
 ence only, that from the mouth of the zealous 
 dignitary they came mended in syllogistical array, 
 in energy, and in the aids of language. The 
 moderate-minded, though perfectly loyal and 
 Protestant hearer, felt his grief and indignation 
 rise stronger within him ; and he at last moved 
 to leave the church, when, in allusion to Pen- 
 dergast's favourite treaty. Dr. Dopping dis- 
 tinctly laid down the propositions that faith 
 was not to be kept with Papists. 
 
 Captain Pendergast looked to the form, out- 
 side the pews, upon which John Sliarpe sat, in 
 order to give his man a signal to arise and ac- 
 company him homeward. With his knees wide 
 
118 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 apart, his bony hands grasping them, his body 
 bent forward, and a smile of the kindliest ap- 
 probation, John's eyes were fixed on the preach- 
 er. In vain his master strove to catch his 
 glance ; it was immovable. His lips, however, 
 often moved, either unconsciously repeating 
 words that his soul drank in like a cordial, or 
 blessing the author of them; and sometimes 
 they seemed to water, either in extreme delight, 
 or perhaps as an unbidden thought of his pipe 
 crossed his mind — his pipe, which, out of de- 
 ference to the sacred roof, he had reluctantly 
 forced from between his teeth at the church- 
 door, and folded up in a linen rag, and put in 
 his pocket. 
 
 After watching him a long while, Pendergast 
 at length caught John's eye, and gave him a 
 signal. But John, quickly reverting his regards 
 to the Archbishop of Meath, pretended not to 
 have noticed the occurrence, and thenceforward 
 his master stood little chance of being honoured 
 with a look from him. Pendergast was leaving 
 the church alone, determined to take vengeance 
 on his refractory servant the earliest opportu- 
 nity, when the sermon ended, and, ere he could 
 bustle through the crowd, John Sharpe joined 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 119 
 
 him, his pipe in his hand, ready to be resumed 
 the moment they should cross the threshold. 
 
 " How durst you, sirrah, disregard the sign 
 I made to you to stand up, and leave the 
 church V demanded Pendergast. 
 
 '' The sign your honour made til me ?" re- 
 peated John, as he stopped to light his touch- 
 paper, very deliberately : " as I am a Christian 
 man, I saw your worship make no sign til me, 
 the mom; or if your honour did make one, 
 and that my eyes were turned so as to see it, 
 doubtless they were blinded from seeing any 
 thing but that blessed man, as my ears were 
 deaf to any sounds but the blessed words of his 
 mouth." 
 
 " I fear you lie, John, very particularly ; but 
 home. Sir, now that your nose-funnel is a-smok- 
 ing ; this is not the place to speak with you.*" 
 
 " A heavenly man !" continued John, as he 
 strode happily after Captain Pendergast — *' a 
 light, and a burning star ; troth jest ! a jewel of 
 a man ; — it won't — no ; it won't do with them, 
 this time ; hugh ; — troth, no." 
 
 Forgetting, in his bustle to leave Dublin, his 
 momentary dudgeon against his follower. Cap- 
 tain Pendergast gave orders for travelling north- 
 
120 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 ward that very day, and, after an early dinner, 
 he, and all those depending upon his motives, 
 bade adieu to the capital. His mind was sad- 
 dened so much, he spoke less than usual to his 
 young protegee. " If," he argued — " if such 
 be the current opinions and feelings in Dublin, 
 upon this treaty, what must I expect to find 
 them a hundred miles farther north ?^'' 
 
 With little adventure, our party gained Pen- 
 dergast Hall, a plain but respectable square 
 house, with wings and out-offices, well-sheltered 
 by trees, and surrounded by fertile fields, gar- 
 dens, and plantations : and during his journey 
 from Dublin to his old home, and after his ar- 
 rival there, Pendergast experienced no disap- 
 pointment of his anticipations of the fervour of 
 party hostility against the measure he would 
 fain get all to be content with, but which few 
 indeed considered as he did. 
 
 In these pages, as well as in others which 
 the writers have submitted to their readers, an 
 endeavour has been made to guard against pre- 
 judices of country and creed, while alluding to 
 historical events necessarily bearing upon the 
 task in hand. Upon former occasions, whenever 
 the words of a neutral, or even an adverse his- 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 121 
 
 torian could be found to convey, briefly, the 
 information required, he has spoken to the 
 reader — and oftener, perhaps, than some readers 
 gave him or his transcribers credit for. In the 
 same view, some chapters back, an abstract of 
 the Treaty of Limerick has been supphed from 
 a well-known English historian ; and now, lest 
 we should be suspected of exaggerating the op- 
 position to that treaty immediately after its 
 occurrence, the same authority is here quoted, 
 almost in continuation of the former extract : — 
 
 " The Protestant subjects of Ireland were 
 extremely disgusted at these concessions, made 
 in favour of vanquished rebels, who had exer- 
 cised such acts of cruelty and rapine. They 
 complained, that they themselves, who had suf- 
 fered for their loyalty to King William, were 
 neglected, and obliged to sit down with their 
 losses ; while their enemies, who had shed so 
 much blood in opposing his government, were 
 indemnified by the articles of the capitulation, 
 and were favoured with particular indulgences. 
 They were dismissed icith the honours of tear : 
 they were transported, at the Government's 
 expense, to fight against the English in foreign 
 countries ; an honourable provision was made 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
122 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 for the Rapparees, who were professed banditti : 
 the Roman Catholic interest in Ireland obtained 
 the sanction of regal authority ; attainders were 
 overlooked, forfeitures annulled, pardons ex- 
 tended, and the laws set aside, in order to ob- 
 tain a pacification." 
 
 Smollett adds, as a kind of answer on his 
 own account to these angry objections, that 
 '^ Ginkle had received orders to put an end to 
 the war, at any rate." 
 
 And such were the comments upon his esteem- 
 ed treaty which now assailed Captain Pender- 
 gast from every quarter, and, he foresaw, would 
 succeed in breaking through it, and so re-de- 
 liver the land to sectarian tyranny and national 
 degradation. Such, in fact, were the comments 
 which did break through it, and by which, in 
 consequence, Irela..d was made a country with- 
 out a people, a province of the rule of griping 
 colonists over millions of wretched, wretched 
 slaves. But it is best said — and perhaps it 
 should only have been said — such were the com- 
 ments which, by leading to a breach of Ire- 
 land's " charter of civil and religious rights," 
 and, at the same time, sharpening the already 
 keen scent of monopoly, influenced and prescribed 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 123 
 
 the fortunes of the greater number of the indivi- 
 duals yet introduced to the reader, and of 
 others who are still to be made known to him. 
 
 A few days after his arrival at home, Captain 
 Pendergast had arranged his establishment in 
 all its different departments. Patrick O'Burke 
 had his chamber and his study ; so had Father 
 James ; and suitable books were supplied to 
 both. Foreseeing future discussions and diffi- 
 culties, Pendergast caused Patrick to prevail on 
 the priest to allow himself to be called Mr. 
 James, simply, without any title indicating his 
 clerical character ^ and with much difficulty the 
 boy accomplished his allotted task, so vibrating 
 and unsettled, so moody and wayward was still 
 the mind of his poor tutor. John Sharpe, at 
 peril of all he held dearest in the w-orld, name- 
 ly, his place, and his master's friendship, was 
 charged to hold his tongue regarding the incog- 
 nito clergyman ; and Rory also received many 
 necessary lectures upon acting a prudent part. 
 It should not be forgotten that the new land- 
 steward took formal possession of his comfort- 
 able house, some distance from the principal 
 mansion ; nor that Rory Laherty estabhshed 
 himself in the wood-hut, where he was to reiim 
 g2 
 
124 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 supreme over partridges, woodcocks, snipes, 
 hares, and rabbits. And the Sunday following 
 his day of possession, Rory was on the look-out 
 for Father James and Patrick O'Burke, to enter 
 his dwelling by a private approach, and the 
 three isolated Papists enjoyed their religious ob> 
 servance together. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 125 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Patrick O'Burke gradually improved in 
 letters, under the secret instructions of Father 
 James, and in manly sports and exercises, un- 
 der the more open tuition of Rory Laherty, and, 
 strange as it may seem, of John Sharpe : but of 
 this latter fact more shall hereafter be said. It 
 is first to be noticed, that neither his mental oc- 
 cupation in the house, nor his recreations out 
 of doors, nor even the parental kindness of 
 Pendergast, could for some time dissipate the 
 grave and almost stern reserve of manner which 
 the boy brought to the abode of his protector, 
 and which, in one so young, was sometimes 
 disagreeable, sometimes touching, to observe. 
 Pendergast watched him closely, and at last 
 believing he had discerned the cause of this 
 unnatural gloom of mind, partially succeeded 
 in removing it. He took an opportunity of 
 
126 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 obtaining from Patrick an admission, to the effect 
 that he regarded himself as a poor and unen- 
 titled dependent upon the bounty of a stranger; 
 and that not all the affection with which he 
 was treated, nor even the last wishes of his 
 father, could reconcile his spirit to a lot so 
 humiliating. 
 
 " But, Patrick, this is an error," said Pen- 
 dergast; ",for, though your father's estates be, 
 for the present, and, according to words of law, 
 estreated for ever from you, still I do not despair 
 of seeing them restored, in part, at least, to your 
 father's son: — wait but a few years till the 
 times settle down into more assured quietness, 
 and then judge of your chance." 
 
 Patrick's eyes brightened at this unfounded 
 promise, which, indeed, Pendergast made only 
 for the attainment of the amiable object he had 
 in view : and after an instant's more serious re- 
 flection, said — " 'Tis a pleasing hope, Sir ; yet, 
 what prospect have we of more settled times, 
 when, day after day, they grow worse in party 
 hatred ? When, instead of permitting the dis- 
 inherited Catholic to recover the lands of his 
 fathers, most men of your persuasion try all 
 means to discover a bad title, as your laws call 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 127 
 
 it, in the holdings of such Catholics as have 
 hitherto escaped confiscation ?" 
 
 Pendergast fully felt the truth and force of 
 the boy's reasoning; but it was not his policy 
 to admit that he did : on the contrary, he again 
 found a ready answer for Patrick's doubts, who, 
 finally, had no more to say than — " I will keep 
 strict and honourable account, then, Mr. Pen- 
 dergast, of my obligations to you, until the good 
 day you speak of comes:"' and when his friend, 
 still humouring the prejudices he wished to 
 soothe down, for Patrick's own sake, seemingly 
 assented to this arrangement, they parted upon 
 a better understanding with each other than 
 had previously been established between them, 
 and from that day forward Patrick's brow rose, 
 and he felt, and looked happy. 
 
 This change in his disposition, producing a 
 corresponding change in his manner and actions, 
 gained him friends on all hands. And now 
 commenced John Sharpe's interest in Patrick. 
 Hitherto, the old soldier had hated, with his 
 habitual strength, the coldness (wliich to him 
 was haughtiness) of the young O'Burkc ; John 
 called it " ould, ill-flavoured, grandee-Papish 
 pride," and turned up his nose, or laughed 
 
128 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA, 
 
 shortly and bitterly at it, upon all occasions. 
 But when Patrick became an altered person ; 
 when be greeted John with smiles, as they met 
 in the fields ; when with a careless good-humour, 
 he gave him laugh for laugh, and ivould be a 
 friend of his, cost what it might ; when he 
 oftener took a gun in his hand, and killed more 
 game than he used to do, and, above all things, 
 took braver leaps, over stream or hedge, upon 
 his hunting-pole, as he coursed the hare : vv^hen 
 all this came repeatedly under the land-steward's 
 observation, a great revolution ensued in his 
 feelings towards his master's adopted son. At 
 first, indeed, the revolution made little in Pa- 
 trick's favour, for John's loathing only turned 
 into indignation at what he chose to regard as 
 audacity, as, in fact, a wanton presuming in one 
 situated like " the ould rebel's spawn." But, 
 by degrees, a recurrence of similar provocations 
 to his anger, instead of confirming his dislike 
 and testiness, won his heart, just as some la- 
 dies' hearts are said to be won ; and, to his own 
 astonishment, often muttered to himself, be- 
 tween the black shank of his short pipe and 
 his teeth, as black as it, he at last found him- 
 self disposed to manifest a gruff friendship for 
 his young tormentor. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 129 
 
 Some accidents served to fix his liking for 
 ever: and of these, one shall be recounted 
 which could have produced good-will in the 
 bosom of no other man than John Sharpe ; and 
 another, which proved that the heart in that 
 bosom was made of better stuff than its owner 
 would condescend to admit, or perhaps sus- 
 pected it of. 
 
 His growing inclination towards Patrick be- 
 gan to show itself by his meeting him and the old 
 gamekeeper upon their sporting-excursions, and 
 at first railino^ acrainst both for some attributed 
 lack of skill in the management of their wea- 
 pons, or in their pursuit of game, and then sup- 
 plying fraptious instructions for " a more chris- 
 tian and ceevilized method in field sports." 
 He did not spare old Rory rebukes, severe and 
 satirical, yet half composed of supercilious wit- 
 ticisms, explained by his laconic laughs, upon 
 the scandal of training up his young charge in 
 a manner so unworthy ; and finally, he would 
 venture to take the gun or the salmon-spear 
 out of Rory's hands, for the purpose of showing 
 him a wild duck or a fish might be killed, ac- 
 cording to the best rules. 
 
 John was noi always as successful as he pro- 
 mised to be ; but neither Rory nor Patrick no- 
 G 5 
 
130 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 ticed his failures so as to vex him. In fact, the 
 shrewd, though almost wild old man, saw that, 
 for the interests of his beloved foster-son, as 
 well as of himself, (or else for quietness' sake,) 
 it behoved him to live on good terms with the 
 land-steward, and he would not therefore touch 
 his vanity in any sensitive point : and Patrick 
 too much relished John's peculiarities to de- 
 prive himself, by an open rupture, of opportu- 
 nities for waggish experiments upon them, many 
 of which he successfully attempted, with a grave 
 face, on his own part, with the most impertur- 
 bable affectation of unconciousness on Rory''s 
 part, and with scarce a suspicion, at the time, 
 on John's part, of the laugh enjoyed at his 
 expense. 
 
 Qne winter's day they met, as usual, upon 
 the verge of an extensive bog, to which wild- 
 geese made an occasional visit. As Sharpe came 
 up with the sportsmen, Patrick and Rory had 
 just fired together at one of these birds, and 
 missed it. John's contemptuous disapprobation 
 was soon expressed, and calling upon them to 
 mark the flight, and the second descent of the 
 startled goose, he vauntingly proposed to follow 
 it himself, and show them how to make sure of 
 it i"^— nay, he engaged to hit the bird with a sin- 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 131 
 
 gle ball, at any distance within a hundred and 
 fifty yards. All eyes accordingly tracked the 
 goose round the bog, and the place where it 
 at length pitched. John then handed his 
 piece, his old musket — he would use no other — 
 to Patrick, in order that the boy's own hands 
 might draw the charge of shot, and substitute a 
 ball. The goose rose again, during these ope- 
 rations, and before Patrick had rammed the 
 ball home, John hastened off to watch the prc>- 
 ceedings of his marked victim, giving orders 
 that his musket should be borne after him. So 
 soon as he turned his back, Patrick added a 
 double charge of powder, and, along v*'ith the 
 ball, a handful of large shot, reckoning to put 
 the steward in for an unexpected rebound of the 
 heavy piece, but at the same time assured that 
 its solid and approved construction would not 
 expose him to material danger from the unusual 
 explosion. This done, he and Kory followed, 
 according to orders. 
 
 They found Sharpe on his knees behind a 
 low fence, at another point of the edge of the 
 bog. His neck was stretched out, his eyes fix- 
 ed, and, as he heard them approach, he made 
 signs with his hands behind his back, that they 
 should tread cautiously, and give him the mus- 
 
132 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 ket without delay : " She 's a-sunning her ain 
 sel, on yon tuft," he whispered, while Patrick, 
 creeping up to him, handed the deadly weapon ; 
 " not thinking, a-bit, who 's looking at her ; 
 troth, jest, no ; hu, ugh !'' and as he spoke, 
 John first tapped the red tobacco in his pipe, to 
 give it new life, and then slowly raised the piece 
 to his left shoulder — for he was what is called 
 left-handed, and, even in the battle-field, had 
 always presented his favourite musket in the 
 same fashion ; — " well ; now for til tell her 
 I 'm here," he continued, taking malignant aim. 
 Patrick had stepped back, out of all possible dan- 
 ger ; Rory had not advanced within its scope : 
 John pulled the trigger ; a report, as if from a 
 field-piece, mingled with an imperfected scream 
 from the goose, and a short bellow from the 
 marksman, followed : at the same time that the 
 one was seen to spring high in air, and then fall 
 dead, almost annihilated indeed, and the other to 
 tumble backward, and roll into a slough. Nei- 
 ther Rory nor Patrick added a laugh to the 
 mixture of jarring and horrid sounds, for the 
 old man completely controlled much heartfelt 
 mirth, and the author of the mischief continued 
 to subdue his own joyous hysteric. 
 
THE LAST BARON OP CRANA. 133 
 
 " 'Twas your master bid ye do that ?**' were the 
 first distinct words they heard Sharpe utter, as 
 he emerged, scrambling, through the white cloud 
 of smoke in which he was enveloped ; and they 
 were not a little surprised to note that neither 
 his speech nor tones expressed the great wrath 
 they had prepared themselves to encounter ; — 
 " 'Twas your master bid you do that. Sir Paddy 
 O'Burke ?" he continued, limping towards them, 
 his right hand tenderly rubbing his left shoulder. 
 
 " Mi^ master?" questioned Patrick ; " what 
 mean you, John, by my master ?" 
 
 " Troth, jest ; — your master, lad," resumed 
 Sharpe. 
 
 " Explain your words, I say, man :" Patrick's 
 face reddened ; he feared some spiteful and 
 coarse allusion to his dependent situation ; — " I 
 am my own master, and neither have, nor will 
 have another." 
 
 " Nathless, it was your master bid you do 
 it til me," persisted John Sharpe, now con- 
 fronting the boy close, and grinning in such a 
 fashion into his face, that it was difficult to say 
 whether he relished and forgave the joke, or 
 was only nursing his anger into a high and vi- 
 cious explosion. 
 
134 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 " Who, I demand to know, again ?" 
 
 " His ain sel, and na ither for him," pursued 
 John. 
 
 " Would you insult me, old John Sharpe ? 
 I tell you I own no master living !'"* and Patrick 
 now spoke impatiently. 
 
 " Nien ; but the one All-masther, high up," 
 added Rory, in a pious, peace-making tone, as 
 he pointed upwards, and pulled his foster-son's 
 skirts to exhort him to keep his temper. 
 
 '" But it wasna He" said John, turning his 
 grinning face upon Rory, who drew back ; " it 
 wasna He ; na, troth ; it was your hopeful 
 bairn's true master ; the f other, — and weel ye 
 ken whof' here he pointed as emphatically 
 downward, twice or thrice, as Rory had point- 
 ed upwards ; " the gude ould di'el, ye ken ; 
 troth, jest," and John ended his tardy explana- 
 tion, by giving one of his unique laughs, to 
 which, after assuring himself that it was really 
 meant for good-hum.our, Patrick contributed a 
 much more joyous one, and even old Rory 
 could not now command the excellent discipline 
 of his rough and wild features. And from this 
 hour John Sharpe openly professed himself the 
 admirer of Patrick O 'Burke. It will not be 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 135 
 
 attempted to explain how ; so it was, and no 
 more can be said. 
 
 The other occurrence which confirmed his 
 wayward Hking, was more useful to Patrick, 
 (only so far, however, as it gave a certain de- 
 termination to the old soldier's patronage,) than 
 the mere amusing adventure just recounted : 
 and it happened a long time afterwards, when 
 Patrick O'Burke had completed his twenty- 
 fifth year. 
 
 Rory Laherty, in his capacity as gamekeep- 
 er, had several times represented to Mr. Pen- 
 dergast, that a person from the neighbouring 
 city was in the habit of intruding on the grounds, 
 attended by two dogs, one a well-trained spa- 
 niel, the other a fierce and very ugly bull-bitch, 
 and killing and carrying off whatever game he 
 wished. Pendergast gave orders that Rory 
 should warn the marauder to stay away. Rory 
 complied; but his injunctions were lightly 
 treated; and when he remonstrated in a higher 
 tone, the bold stranger spoke aside to his bull- 
 bitch, who immediately grinned like a demon, 
 thus indicating the nature of her office on the 
 sporting field. In fact, it was plain to be seen 
 that the citizen carried on his war against rab- 
 
136 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 bits, and birds of all kinds, under her guardian- 
 ship. Nor was this the only threat put forward 
 by her master. He uttered, at the same time, 
 vague hints of having Rory in his power, as 
 one in bad esteem with the laws of the land ; 
 nay, he added, that there were some people in 
 the house itself, (meaning Mr. Pendergast's,) 
 who might rue the day they vexed him. 
 
 Again Rory applied to Pender gast, and 
 that gentleman became thoughtful and cautious 
 when he had heard the old gamekeeper's whole 
 story. " We shall see," he said — " we shall see 
 who this great and dangerous man is, Rory."' 
 
 A few hours afterwards, Mr. Pendergast rode 
 into the city, made the necessary inquiries, and 
 from their result concluded that, indeed, the 
 invader of his grounds was not a person whose 
 anger ought to be lightly roused ; nor, consider- 
 ing the nature of the times, and Pendergast's 
 situation with respect to the three Roman Ca- 
 tholics under his protection, whose threats ought 
 to be disregarded. 
 
 In those days, bull-baiting was a favourite 
 and even elevated amusement with our ances- 
 tors, although not fully enjoying the eclat which 
 attached to it in times more remote. Still, it 
 kept up, however, much of its ancient attrac- 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 137 
 
 tion for all ranks, and for both sexes, and its 
 periodical occurrence was a kind of public fete. 
 In most of the considerable towns of Ireland, 
 the superintendence of the civilized sport was 
 committed to the care of some bold, dashing 
 young bachelor, of the trading class, called the 
 " Mayor of Bull-ring;" (his predecessors had 
 boasted a more sounding title — " Lord of Bull- 
 ring ;) and he had his sheriffs of bull-ring, and 
 other attendants ; and was permitted, or rather 
 made responsible for the honour of defraying 
 part of the expenses of the exhibition, while 
 the guild of the town or city supplied the rest. 
 Nay, his high office collaterally conferred upon 
 him another trust, namely, that of " Guardian 
 of Bachelors," as it was called ; and upon the 
 marriage of each of his wards, he invariably 
 held a distinguished place at the thronged 
 nuptial feast. 
 
 From this statement, it will be seen that the 
 Mayor of Bull-ring could scarce be a very in- 
 dustrious individual, or one of regular and tem- 
 perate habits, or, in fact, of good character. 
 Among the population of a considerable town, 
 bachelors often changed their estate ; bull-baits 
 also were frequent ; so that a due attention to 
 the double responsibility of his office, left him 
 
138 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 little time for more useful perseverance in trade 
 or manufacture. In truth, his whole time pass- 
 ed either in festivity, or in blustering prepara- 
 tions for the sport of which he was the master, 
 or else in superintending its actual display ; or 
 if, now and then, he had a day's leisure, the 
 habits of his mind naturally sent him to seek 
 recreation in some way congenial to his usual 
 pursuits ; such as the enjoyment of the bowling- 
 green, or of the shiebeen-house ; or, if he could 
 afford it, (and sometimes whether he could or 
 not,) of the sporting or the hunting field. 
 
 Now, the present Mayor of Bull-ring of the 
 city near to Mr. Pendergast's mansion, was the 
 person of whom Rory Laherty had so much to 
 complain; and never had a bolder bachelor 
 filled that ancient office. His earliest boyhood 
 had given promise of his almost unrivalled 
 claims to discharge its duties with spirit and 
 effect. The only son of a wealthy glover and 
 leather-breeches maker, he flung down, at his 
 twelfth year, the scissors, thimble, and needle, 
 and entered upon a most popular career, in the 
 estimation, at least, of all " gay blades'" of his 
 own turn of mind. His fond parent, half ad- 
 miring his mettle, while he openly took him to 
 task, supplied him with money, " to keep the 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 139 
 
 poor fool from starvation on the streets," as he 
 expressed it : in process of time, " the poor 
 fool,*" not finding his father's liberality sufficient 
 for all his own other purposes, made free with 
 the till in the shop, and perhaps with the 
 strong-box above-stairs, and became banished 
 from the paternal roof. Still no decrease en- 
 sued in his round of pleasures, nay, in his 
 means of supporting them ; and convivial souls, 
 like himself, never suspecting him of " bad 
 ways," only laughed heartily in approval of the 
 genius which, by some process unknown to the 
 vulgar, kept John Gernon's purse so well filled. 
 True, upon many occasions previous to his una- 
 nimous election as Mayor of Bull-ring, he had 
 disappeared from among them, and, each time, 
 stayed weeks away, no one could surmise where, 
 or on what business : but, although envious 
 tongues cautiously hinted certain resolutions 
 of the little mystery, John suffered nought in 
 more generous and more popular opinion. 
 
 It may be surmised, that this reigning favour- 
 ite of the dashing bachelors of his community 
 boasted a form and features suited to the brave 
 rank he held in the world, as well as to what is 
 generally known to be one of tlie great requisites 
 sought in such a public representative, elected 
 
140 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 by such constituents. This was not, however, 
 the case. John Gernon's face was square, sal- 
 low, and almost beardless, though he had passed 
 the age of manhood ; his eyes were unpleasing, 
 his mouth was hard, and seldom tempered by a 
 smile ; and as for his figure, it was low and 
 square, and his legs were inclined to be bandy. 
 He made up, however, in strength, for what he 
 lacked in comeliness. John had boxed, through 
 boyhood and manhood, every contemporary wor- 
 thy of notice, and never found one who could 
 resist the power of his shoulders and arms, or 
 much disturb him on his well-jointed, ungrace- 
 ful, bandy legs : and perhaps a chief cause for 
 this might be found in the fact, that he had 
 never met among them a heart and a mind so 
 truly courageous, in an animal sense, as his 
 own ; so impervious to a thought of yielding ; 
 so tranquilly certain of success in any struggle 
 for personal superiority. 
 
 And such, Mr. Pendergast ascertained, was 
 the difficult person he had now to deal with, as 
 an intruder upon his grounds. Other traits of 
 John Gernon's character gave him still less satis- 
 faction. In pretended alarm of the treasonable 
 designs of Roman Catholics, but really for the 
 purpose of supporting the new laws directed 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 1 4;1 
 
 against them, it had become fashionable in all 
 large towns to form, among the citizens, military 
 companies, horse as well as foot, who, after 
 receiving arms from the authorities, clothed 
 themselves, and served without pay, that is, 
 mustered every Sunday for parade, and went 
 through their evolutions as well as they knew 
 how. Of these bands, in John Gernon's native 
 city, one was emphatically called " The Bache- 
 lors* company ,"" and he, of course, became its 
 captain. Indeed, had not his other dignities, 
 and his previously admitted excellence, made 
 this last election a matter of course, his remark- 
 able loyalty, and inherited dislike of " Popery, 
 slavery, brass sixpences, and wooden shoes," 
 would have almost ensured it. For, of the very 
 loyal of those times, John proclaimed himself 
 the veriest ; and so minutely did he cause the 
 administration of all his offices of power to verify 
 the fact, that the only bachelor's feast he was 
 ever known to decline attending, was that of a 
 Catholic ; and the only dog he ever turned out 
 of the bull-ring, was also of Popish blood. 
 
 It was evident, therefore, to Pendergast's good 
 sense, that of such a man he must not make an 
 open enemy. He found, indeed, that however 
 John's wild ways might sink him in the private 
 
142 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 estimation of the reflective and respectable, and 
 necessarily, of those in civil authority in the 
 city, his political zeal served to estabhsh be- 
 tween him and them a good public understand- 
 ing ; that their ears were open to his counsel, 
 touching matters of state-expediency, and their 
 inflamed prejudices but too active to second any 
 salutary hint he might afford. Of John Gernon, 
 then, whose character and disposition would 
 readily propose, in revenge for harsh treat- 
 ment, summary persecution of the proscribed 
 papists in his house, and whose political in- 
 fluence was of sufficient weight to insure the 
 success of his measure, Pendergast determined 
 to stand as free as possible. And in this wise 
 view, after gaining all the information required, 
 he rode back to his hitherto peaceful mansion. 
 It was his intent to warn Rory Laherty and 
 Patrick O 'Burke of the peril they were in, and 
 to advise them to avoid all future contentions 
 with Gernon and his ugly bull-bitch. But 
 fate had so ordered it, that his good instructions 
 partly came too late, and partly were doomed to 
 be disregarded. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 143 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Although Father James, after his domesti- 
 cation in the house of his good patron, showed 
 little of the wildness of mind which had charac- 
 terized him at their first meeting ; although he 
 proved him self fully competent to the task of 
 perfecting Patrick's education, and to the still 
 more difficult one of concealing his own calling ; 
 it was evident, notwithstanding that his intel- 
 lects had not recovered, and scarcely ever could 
 be expected to recover, the great shock they had 
 received during the visit of King William's 
 soldiers to Sir Redmond O 'Burke's mansion. 
 
 This fixed though modified imbecility of the 
 concealed priest was observable in different 
 ways. He never left his room but at meal- 
 times, or, now and then, when he hurried out 
 of the house, by a back-door, to meet Patrick 
 in Rory Laherty's hut, for religious purposes, 
 
144 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 or to bury himself in the depths of some remark- 
 able seclusion, that he might there read, out of 
 his breviary, the allotted offices for the day: 
 and, upon these occasions, he would sometimes 
 steal on tiptoe, sometimes run through the 
 house, as if fearing an enemy at every step, 
 and even enter the eating-room with a start, a 
 shrinking back, and a glowing quickness of look, 
 which no previous experience of the friendly 
 faces to be met there could correct or instruct. 
 
 Other proofs of his unsettled state of mind 
 were more striking ; sometimes, indeed, gro- 
 tesque. Having sat down to his meal, he would 
 eat as rapidly and as ravenously as when chance 
 used to throw in his way a scrap of primitive 
 food, during his lonely adventures among the 
 hills, his eyes glancing suspiciously to either 
 side at every mouthful. If wine was left too 
 long near his hand, he would drink it till he be- 
 came nearly intoxicated, and, in this changed 
 and brave mood, mutter unintelligible solilo- 
 quies, which sounded like dignified threats 
 against his foes, or smile vaguely, or laugh 
 loudly, or sometimes start up, and attempt to 
 say a Latin grace, or chant forth a Latin hymn, 
 until mildly interrupted by Mr. Pendergast or 
 Patrick, and thus recalled to his usual state of 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 145 
 
 caution. Connected discourse he scarcely ever 
 attempted with his excellent friend, though 
 often spoken to for the purpose. He never lost, 
 however, the most profound respect for Mr. 
 Pendergast, from the first day he found a refuge 
 under his roof; but it must be added that the 
 priest's style of evincing this sentiment was ex- 
 travagant, nay, absurd, as were other features of 
 his behaviour. For example; upon no occasion 
 would he enter or leave the eating-apartment 
 without slowly approaching his patron, his head 
 bent, and his hands crossed on his breast, and 
 then making him a low, humble, and formal re- 
 verence, such as he had been in the habit of 
 tendering to his ecclesiastical superiors : once, 
 indeed, while absolved in the contemplation of 
 a difficult chapter of a grand theological work 
 which had occupied him for years, and was 
 likely to do so to the end of his life, he momen- 
 tarily yielded to the delusion that ^Ir. Pender- 
 gast was the bishop of his old diocese, and likely 
 to give him a benefice in reward for his literary 
 labours. 
 
 A sudden noise in the house, or out of doors, 
 and particularly the report of fire-arms, would 
 go near to reduce him to his worst former state 
 of helpless terror ; and when thus excited, his 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
146 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 conduct and actions were enough to extort a 
 smile from the most commiserating observer. It 
 seemed his impulse to hurry, at once, from his 
 book-lumbered room, in order to seek and claim 
 the protection of his patron ; and as he fled with 
 a shuffling step down the stairs, or along the 
 passages, broken mutterings of ejaculation or 
 prayer escaped him, and he wrung his hands, 
 smote his thighs, or, if very much frightened, 
 had a fashion of cracking the joints of his fingers, 
 which, either from peculiar formation, or long 
 practice, made a sharp audible sound at each 
 twist he gave them. Then, it ought to be ob- 
 served, that in about a year after his experience 
 of the good living of Pendergast Hall, and his in- 
 dulgence in sedentary and even slothful habits. 
 Father James's tall and graceless figure became, 
 in one part encumbered with flesh, — we mean 
 about the region of the stomach and abdomen — 
 his legs and thighs remaining as lank and as 
 heavy as ever ; and hence, during any sudden 
 fit of terror, such as has last been alluded to, 
 the vivacity of his gesticulations borrov* ed ad- 
 ditional grotesqueness from the peculiarities of 
 his shape, loosely covered as that shape was by a 
 very plainly-cut suit of clothes, in the ridiculous 
 fashion of the time, and as old — (for he profess- 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 147 
 
 ed himself too modest, and too saving of his pa- 
 tron's purse, to accept a new suit) — as the first 
 day of his entry into Clonmel, accompanied by 
 Pendergast, Patrick, and Rory. 
 
 About the same hour at which Pendergast 
 rode into the neighbouring city to make in- 
 quiries concerning the ruthless destroyer of his 
 game, Father James issued through his favour- 
 ite back-door to seek a well-known hiding- 
 place in the grounds, in which to read his bre- 
 viary. He gained the spot without molesta- 
 tion, although, from his glances over his shoul- 
 ders, one would have thought some fearful 
 pursuers near, and had gone through the half 
 of his daily reading, when two shots, in quick 
 succession, sounded very near to him, and some- 
 thing rattled among the leaves and branches 
 over his head. To curb the impulse of his 
 nervous fright was impossible. He sprang from 
 his knees upon his feet, tossing his breviary 
 high in the air, unconscious of the action ; and 
 with a shrill cry, ran through the surrounding 
 bushes, he knew not or cared not in what direc- 
 tion. A few bounds and scrambles brought him 
 into a space of clear ground, and he knocked 
 himself, without seeing him, against the !Mayor 
 of Bull-ring, who stood there, leaning on his 
 h2 
 
148 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 gun, his spaniel panting and crouching at his 
 feet, and his hideously-visaged bull-bitch si- 
 lently displaying her tusks at his side. 
 
 " Ay ?"" cried John Gernon, coolly, though 
 sternly, as if in answer to the priest's thump 
 against him ; which, it may be noticed, did not 
 make the low-built Hercules waver a hair'^s 
 breadth on his outspread bandy legs, while Fa- 
 ther James was sent, by its rebound, staggering 
 backwards; — " Ay, in troth ! And whom have 
 we here, this turn ?" 
 
 The Priest gave no answer, but stood stut- 
 tering out the imperfect accents of fear, his pro- 
 tuberance much pushed forward, and his arms 
 convulsively pulled backward ; while John Ger- 
 non measured him with his cold, fierce eyes, 
 and his bull-bitch continued to make her pursy 
 black lips rise and fall over her set teeth. 
 
 " Be you the new king of birds and all game 
 they have sent out to hinder i^s," pointing to his 
 protectress, *' from shooting a han'ful of wild- 
 fowl for the feast of the noble play of bull-bait, 
 near at hand .f'" continued John. 
 
 Father James comprehended nothing of this 
 second speech ; but his staring eyes caught the 
 motion of the speaker's hand, as he pointed to 
 the bull-bitch, and a quick and wild association 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 149 
 
 possessed his mind, as he screamed, " No, no ! 
 not by such means ! — no, for Christian mercy ! 
 shoot at me again, but save me from the gnash- 
 ing of her teeth !" 
 
 The Mayor of Bull-ring was puzzled. The 
 priest's dress gave no indication of his ecclesi- 
 astical character, and why he should be thus 
 scared, and talk in such a strain of having him- 
 self put to death, seemed strange. 
 
 " In good earnest, who be you, master ?" he 
 asked, advancing a step. 
 
 " You know — you know r answered Father 
 James, receding ; " And you are here, hot-foot 
 after me, with that weapon in your hand, and 
 that imp of blood at your heels, because you 
 know !" 
 
 " And if I do, I was told it in my sleep, 
 man," resumed Gernon. " Hold, now ! stand ! 
 we mean you no harm, by my mace and sword ! 
 Down, Maud, down," addressing the second ob- 
 ject of the priest's aversion, as, roused by his 
 loud words of command to his companion, she 
 prepared to spring ; — " There, she is quiet as an 
 Easter lamb ; and now, master, tell me "" 
 
 " Nothing — nought — no word, unless you 
 stand still !" interrupted Father James. 
 
 " Here, then, still as a stone, I stand, for 
 
150 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 peace -sake; — peace is best. But tell rae, I say, 
 are you of these parts ?"" 
 
 " No ! I give thanks to my God, no !"' 
 
 " Ay ? and why ? Where at present do you 
 house ? 
 
 " Yonder — there — under that noble roof," 
 pointing to Pendergast's mansion, which peeped 
 above the trees at some distance ; ^' There — 
 protected by the gr'eat owner of all these wide 
 lands, and who says there is no present law to 
 warrant you in hunting us down, or slaying us, 
 or banishing us !'"* Pendergast had never men- 
 tioned to his poor inmate, indeed, the enact- 
 ments which had been levelled against persons 
 of his religion, and particularly against its mi- 
 nisters, since their first meeting. 
 
 " Protected ? and hunting — and slaying — and 
 banishing ?'^ muttered John Gernon ; " now I 
 beffin to understand. Another concealed rebel ! 
 
 o 
 
 ay, and better concealed than the rest : I heard 
 not of his being alive before this day. The 
 great, and the noble, and the wise Pendergast 
 tells you truly," he resumed, addressing the 
 priest in a mild voice, for his own purposes. 
 '' No ; be you Papist ten times over, or, for the 
 matter o' that. Popish priest *" 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 151 
 
 " Priest !" again interrupted Father James ; 
 " Man, man, who spoke of priests ?" 
 
 Gernon had made the allusion, still without 
 suspecting that he parleyed with an ecclesiastic 
 of the illegal form of worship, whatever might 
 have been his other surmises ; but this ill-judg- 
 ed interruption put him on the true scent ; and 
 another circumstance gave him almost proof of, 
 in his estimation, an important and alarming 
 fact. Simultaneously with his repetition of the 
 word '* priest," Father James vaguely remem- 
 bered, for the first time since his escape from 
 the well-screened retreat, that it was possible he 
 might have dropped his breviary ; and, first feel- 
 ing all his pockets, in an alarmed and hurried 
 manner, his eyes strayed sideways towards the 
 adjacent trees and bushes, and he timidly began 
 to move from his place. 
 
 " Maud ! watch that man !" cried Gernon, 
 assured that the priest had lost something of 
 which he ought not to allow him to repossess 
 himself; and the canine familiar accordingly 
 made a plunge between Father James and the 
 point he was in motion to gain, and looking up 
 into his face, fixed upon him her baneful glare, 
 and exhibited, more amply than ever, her dou- 
 
152 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 ble rows of tusks and teeth. The ecclesiastic, 
 returning her regards, though with a very dif- 
 ferent expression, became rooted to the spot. 
 Gernon struck into the shade, and, after a short 
 absence, again confronted his well-guarded pri- 
 soner. In his great horror of the bull-bitch, 
 Father James once more forgot all about his 
 breviary, and did not therefore look at Gemon 
 to ascertain if he had got it in his hands. Sub- 
 sequent reflection, however, hinted that the next 
 words addressed to him by the Mayor of Bull- 
 ring must have been grounded on a knowledge 
 of who and what he was. 
 
 " Good day, now, holy Sir," said Gernon ; 
 *' for I guess enough about you. Maud ! he 
 may go his ways. Walk off to your grand 
 house, I say, master ^"^ 
 
 " I will ; and I am thankful," assented the 
 priest, " and the animal needs not to follow .?"" 
 
 " Not for the present : but look you. Sir." 
 He stepped after Father James, who, at the noise 
 of his heavy tread, began to run. " Stop ! a 
 word more, I bid you !" 
 
 " Any thing — any thing in peace — in peace 
 and good- will between us — 'tis a noble brute — 
 and a good house-dog — and an excellent guard 
 to its master, I warrant ;" endeavouring to look 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 153 
 
 smilingly and approvingly at the object of his 
 praise. 
 
 " Be sure of that," rejoined Gernon ; '' but 
 listen. Go home to your fine house, and when 
 you meet your friend, ^liles Pendergast, you 
 may as well not call to mind that you have met 
 my handsome Maud on the grounds here." 
 
 " Indeed, and in truth, I will not, Sir," pro- 
 mised the priest, earnestly and sincerely. 
 
 " Nor her master either," continued Gernon, 
 still advancing, and fixing on him an expressive 
 look. 
 
 " Assuredly no, genteel — and why should I ?'' 
 " Though, on second thought, you may as 
 well," pursued John Gernon — "Ay, do, do tell 
 him all about it." 
 
 " Even as it pleases you ;" the priest did not 
 fail to take a step backward for every one that 
 Gernon took towards him, never allowing him 
 within arm's length. 
 
 " And you may add something to it," re- 
 sumed the Mayor of Bull-ring, striking the butt 
 of his heavy fowling-piece against the ground, 
 at which the priest jumped aside, and barely 
 suppressed one of his usual cries, and the bull- 
 bitch thought herself called upon to show fresh 
 
 readiness for service : " Tell him from me " 
 
 H 5 
 
154 THE LA5T BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 " Doubtless ! of a certainty !"" Gernon''s deep 
 voice rose high, and Father James was anxious, 
 out of time, to promise obedience to any thing. 
 
 " Tell him, that for young 0'Burke"'s sake — 
 and for his o^vn sake, — ay, and for your own 
 sake '' 
 
 " I will, I will ! by word and troth, I will !'' 
 
 " Be silent, fool ! and hear, first, what you are 
 so over-anxious to engage for : keep your place, 
 and listen, I say ! — Husth !*' A shot at some 
 distance interrupted the speaker, and quite de- 
 prived the priest of self-command. At the risk 
 of death in more than one frightful shape, he 
 uttered the shrill cries he had just before scarcely 
 controlled, and once more turned his back and 
 fled. 
 
 But Gernon did not think proper to molest 
 him farther. " No, Maud, you beauty!"" he 
 said, in his gentlest tones, to the loathsome ani- 
 mal, who w^aited but a signal to pursue the fu- 
 gitive, and bring him back by the neck; — 
 "No, dearee, he's not worth the trouble: let 
 us see what new-comer we are to have on our 
 hands ; and do you get to heel, Maud, to heel ; 
 and take no notice till I bid you." 
 
 As he spoke, he looked down a narrow and 
 faintly- traced path, which ran zig-zag into more 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 155 
 
 remote parts of the grounds, and saw a youth 
 advancing towards him with a gun on his shoul- 
 der. It was Patrick O^Burke. 
 
 " Oh ; oho ! Paddy Papish is out a-sporting 
 to-day, as well as ourselves, Maud," he con- 
 tinued : " that brave shot was his, pet ; and if 
 I don't greatly mistake, he heard that mad 
 priest's screech too, and is mighty angry about 
 it. Well, well ; God help us, this time, at any 
 rate, Maud.'' 
 
 Patrick's appearance gave cause for Gernon's 
 suspicions. . His brows were knitted, his eyes 
 kindled, and his face red, as he came near ; and 
 he stepped to meet the intruder on his patron's 
 grounds, haughtily and indignantly. Hitherto, 
 he had not happened to have been with Rory 
 Laherty upon any of the rencounters between 
 the old gamekeeper and the INI ay or of Bull- 
 ring ; nay, owing to Rory's caution of per- 
 mitting his foster-son to become embroiled with 
 the dangerous stranger, it was but that very 
 morning Patrick had for the first time learned 
 any thing of the matter. 
 
 " My service to you, Sir," he said, stepping 
 a few paces from Gernon, who awaited his ap- 
 proach, resting on his piece, and whistling in a 
 low cadence, as he looked in another direction. 
 
15G THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 " And mine to you, Sir," he was answered. 
 
 " What injury have you done upon the gen- 
 tleman who just parted from you ?" continued 
 Patrick. 
 
 " Gentleman ?''"' repeated Gemon, measuring 
 him with a deliberate glance from head to foot ; 
 — " I can't tell who you mean by ' gentleman,' 
 young master ; but I do not care if you know 
 that the mad creature who left my side, a mo- 
 ment ago, has undergone no injury from me.'*' 
 
 Patrick, recollecting the peculiarities of his 
 poor tutor, and his aptness to cry out upon slight 
 occasions, was reasonable enough, in his heated 
 mood, to give credit to this answer. He soon 
 found another subject for talking on, however. 
 
 " You came here to speak on business with 
 Mr. Pendergast, friend.'*'" 
 
 " No, friend." Gernon continued his low 
 whistle. 
 
 " With some of his establishment, then.?" 
 
 " I know not any of them ; and on that head 
 wish to remain as wise as I am.'" 
 
 " But our gamekeeper, Rory Laherty, is not 
 quite unknown to you .P" 
 
 " A passing acquaintanceship, merely." 
 
 " Briefly ; what do you here. Sir .?" 
 
 " As briefly— who is it that asks .?" 
 
 " The O'Burke, and on Mr. Pendergast's 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 157 
 
 account : so, tell your errand now : — answer 
 my question."' 
 
 *' Perhaps — if you answer one of mine first." 
 
 " Let me hear it :" Patrick also rested on 
 his piece. " Where did your worship attend 
 to hear lawful prayers the last Sabbath-day ?" 
 
 *' Impertinent fellow !" cried Patrick, haugh- 
 tily. 
 
 " Impertinent ? and fellow ? Bother. Show 
 me, and shortly too, that you went to church, 
 last Sunday— ay, and the Sundays before it, 
 for as many months as we can count, or pay me 
 twelve-pence, current money of the realm, in 
 satisfaction for every Sabbath-day's worship 
 you have missed ; such being the fine by law 
 established upon stayers-away from God's ser- 
 vice, and loose livers in this pious land." 
 
 " You shall not tempt me, by your rudeness, 
 fellow, to forget who I am, whoever you may 
 be," said Patrick : " but again I demand to 
 know what is your business here V 
 
 " Sport — not business," answered Gernon. 
 
 " And, what kind of sport ?"" 
 
 '' Such as fills — this,"' continued Gernon, 
 touching the already half-filled leathern bag 
 which hung from his shoulders. 
 
 " With whose permission, friend ?" 
 
 " Mine own," replied Gernon, coolly filling a 
 
158 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 small tin measure with brandy from a wicker- 
 cased bottle which he drew out of his pocket : — 
 " 'Tis a hot day enough, for a September 
 day: will you please to taste P**"* offering the 
 measure. 
 
 " I thank you, no : but it remains for me to 
 tell you, that you must henceforth have Mr. 
 Pendergast's leave, as well as your own, to kill 
 his birds, and other game, on these grounds. 
 
 " Oh, not at all : see, for example ;" he put 
 his piece suddenly to his shoulder, as a small 
 flock of wood-quests flew over his head, fired, 
 and brought down two of the birds; — "Fetch 
 me them, Maud, dearee,*' he continued, and 
 Maud flew to obey his command. 
 
 Patrick lost all patience at this imperturbable 
 insolence. " The ugly brute shall never take 
 them off" the grounds !" he cried. 
 
 "To be sure, no — but I will for her," said 
 Gemon, pacing to meet the bitch. 
 
 "Nor you, either, by heavens!" Patrick 
 sprang before him, turned round and presented 
 his piece. 
 
 " Hollo .f^" questioned Gernon, staring at him. 
 
 " Mind me, fellow," rejoined Patrick ; " vour 
 shot is gone, I have mine to the good, so take 
 care what you attempt to do." 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 159 
 
 " Oh, brave ! brave !" exclaimed the other, 
 scoffingly ; and the words were scarce spoken, 
 when, flinging down his own piece, he jumped 
 head-foremost upon Patrick, and with one twist 
 of his arms possessed himself of his : " Stop, 
 now, Maud ! stop ! I don't want your help 
 this time ; only keep an eye on the lad, to hin- 
 der him and me from any more scuflfling : 'tis a 
 pretty sporting-piece,'' curiously eyeing his 
 prize ; " and luck is in my road, this morning, 
 to make my own of it." 
 
 " You are robber as well as poacher, then?" 
 asked Patrick, whose wrath and courage united, 
 though both of the most positive kind, did not 
 prompt him to an immediate continuance of 
 hostilities, under the circumstances. 
 
 "It can hardly be called poaching," answer- 
 ed Gernon, " to provide a matter of a few dozen 
 of birds for the good bull-feast to-morrow ; or 
 robbery, to disarm a concealed Papist, under 
 authority of the Act of Parliament of the last 
 year, in that case made and provided." 
 
 " Put back the O'Burke's gun in hand, and 
 quit grounds !" here interrupted old Rory I<a- 
 herty, suddenly arriving on the scene, close by 
 the disputants : he was also armed. 
 
 " Skirt him, beauty !" exclaimed Gernon, as, 
 
160 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 with the rapidity and certainty of thought, he 
 wheeled round upon Rory. The old man knew 
 not what was doing, when he found himself 
 without his piece, and at the same moment felt 
 Maud tugging his ample skirts, in obedience to 
 her master's orders. 
 
 *' I must soon press a baggage wain in the 
 King's service, at this rate,"" pursued Gernon, 
 " to carry Papists' arms to the Royal stores, 
 yon," pointing towards the town : " And now, 
 steady, young O," to Patrick, who again 
 seemed to meditate an attack, — " I will shoot 
 you as I would shoot a Papish rabbit, if you 
 budge an inch — as for your gamekeeper, (so 
 called, but that 's to be looked to, yet,) Maud 
 can manage him." 
 
 *' Maybe not," said Patrick : then he ad- 
 dressed Rory in Irish ; " Is he at hand .?" 
 
 " Within a whistle,"" replied Rory: " and 
 upon the wind." — " Brann ! Brann !" cried 
 Patrick ; and Brann, our former acquaintance, 
 now grown into the giant which Pendergast had 
 predicted he would be, came galloping out of a 
 near cover. The instant the animal saw how 
 matters stood, his heavy ears, previously cocked, 
 fell low, his eyes glared like live coals, his 
 bristly coat grew rough, and he redoubled his 
 
THE LAST BARON OP CRANA. 161 
 
 Speed to join his friends. At the same moment, 
 still another power appeared in view, in a con- 
 trary direction, namely, John Sharpe, his old 
 musket resting on his arm, and his — (need it 
 be said ?) — inch-long pipe between his teeth. 
 
 " Look to yourself, Maud ! a shot a-piece 
 for the Papists, and look to yourself!" Thus 
 Gernon expressed his arrangements for his 
 changed position, holding a piece in either hand, 
 and pointing one at Rory and the other at 
 Patrick. And promptly taking his hint, Maud 
 freed Rory's skirts, and faced round to recon- 
 noitre her more formidable enemy. " This is 
 all fair,"" continued Gernon ; "all fair, and 
 prime sport ;" the fraptious tones of John Sharpe 
 reached him from a distance, demanding, in his 
 own idioms, the meaning of the scene before 
 him, and bidding every human being, and the 
 dogs too, be quite still until his closer ap- 
 proach ; but after a hasty glance at him, Gernon 
 proceeded as if he were not in existence. " I 
 have heard tell of your Papish joyant of a dog, 
 Master big O, and long wished to make him 
 and my little beauty better friends ; now they 
 are like to be in for it : so, we have nothing to 
 do but look on, and show them fair play — Wait 
 for him, Maud ! wait for him !'' Brann yet 
 
162 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 wanted about one hundred yards of the ground 
 occupied by his adversary, who, even anticipat- 
 ing her master's advice, coolly though fero- 
 ciously awaited his attack. John Sharpe, seeing 
 his all-powerful commands made light of, re- 
 doubled his exhortations in the other direction, 
 raised his voice to a cracked scream, presented 
 his musket with the left arm, shook his right 
 fist, and at last, in an effort to run forward, 
 fell. 
 
 At this instant Brann came within a bound 
 of Maud, and, perhaps in deference to the 
 beauty**s sex, suddenly stopped short. Feeling 
 no such scruples with respect to him, she was 
 fast in his throat, in requital for his gallantry, 
 before he seemed well aware of her intent. At 
 the first consciousness of assault, or of pain, the 
 noble brute chucked his head backward and 
 forward, but in vain; Maud held him firm. 
 The great strength of his neck and shoulders 
 was sufficient to raise her clear off the ground, 
 and he often did so, but still to no purpose ; 
 and in a short time, self-exhausted by his own 
 struggles, as much as he was enfeebled by loss 
 of blood, and agitated by pain, he submitted 
 for a moment to the advantage she had gained 
 over him, lowering his head, so as to permit 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 163 
 
 her to tug hard, and uttering short and broken 
 barks, while she did not suffer a sound to 
 escape her. 
 
 " The bit will be out the next tug or so if 
 he gives up that way,*" observed Gernon ; while 
 Patrick and Rory looked on, utterly astonished 
 and grieved at this inconceivable discomfiture 
 of their boasted Irish stag-hound : "But stop ; 
 what's in his head, now ?'' continued the Mayor 
 of Bull-ring. 
 
 Of a sudden, Brann resumed his struggles to 
 shake off his deadly foe. Then he jumped 
 backward, and dragged her with him ; her dan- 
 gerous tugging being now ended, and her whole 
 strength exerted to cling close, and keep her 
 gripe. They went back many paces from the 
 spot on which had commenced the fight, ^laud 
 still dragged or tossed at the will of her cap- 
 tive. " He wants to get her into the w^ater, the 
 bom devil !" cried Gernon ; and he had scarcely 
 spoken, when Brann confirmed his surmise, by 
 slipping into a small, but deep pool, which he 
 had gradually approached, and forcing the 
 bitch with him. They sunk; they quickly rose 
 again ; Brann now above Maud, but Maud's 
 tusks still in his throat, while tlie water grew 
 tinted with his pure Milesian blood. 
 
164? THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 *' And now he wants to drown her !" conti- 
 nued Gernon, observing that, indeed, Brann, 
 easily remaining uppermost in the new element, 
 as well by virtue of his superior strength, as by 
 his skill in swimming, struck Maud repeatedly 
 with his heavy paws, and almost plunged his 
 own nose under M^ater, to keep her from breath- 
 ing a mouthful of air. " Well ! if the ould soul 
 of cunning Papistry be not in the body of that 
 Papish brute, my name 's not John Gernon ! 
 Draw dogs, Master Patrick, draw dogs ! I con- 
 sent to have it called a drawn-battle, till some 
 other day. Help me, man, I say, or else the to- 
 morrow's bull may wear his garland home to 
 his stall !" and so saying, he discharged both 
 the loaded pieces which he had hitherto held in 
 his bands, evidently as a precaution against an 
 attack upon himself by their owners, Rory and 
 Patrick ; and then, flinging them on the bank of 
 the pool, jumped into the water. Patrick fol- 
 lowed his example, more out of anxiety for 
 Brann's oozing wound, than for the life of 
 Maud ; and both swam, or waded breast or 
 knee high, according to the varying nature of 
 the ground at the bottom of the pool, round 
 their dogs. The bitch's teeth were now easily 
 disengaged from her adversary's throat, for, in 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 165 
 
 fact, she was half drowned, and sense and mus- 
 cular power began to decrease together. " Take 
 him with you, to the mass, if you like, a' God's 
 name ! and land him at your own side, there," 
 exhorted Gernon, when they had parted the ani- 
 mals, and each seized his own by the neck. " I 
 will tow i\Iaud to the t'other side, and I can but 
 say. Master Patrick, let him meet her again on 
 some fit ground, where there are no back-doors, 
 in the shape of puddled water, for Papish 
 cowardice to be the better of, and then '' 
 
 " And then ? and what then, ye limb o' the 
 deevil ?^^ interrupted John Sharpe ; who, unob- 
 served by Gernon or Patrick, had now gained 
 the pool's edge, his wrath at its height, in con- 
 sequence of his disgraceful fall. " So, Johnny 
 Gernon, it is you — ah, you mother's blessing ! 
 ah, you father's pride ! ah, you pet-bird !" all 
 the while that Sharpe spoke these soft epithets, 
 meant inversely from their apparent meaning, he 
 grinned in his bitterest fashion, — " Well might 
 I give a guess til you, a langer step off; and so 
 here you are, Johnny ?" 
 
 " Here I am," answered Gernon, not yet 
 quite landed. 
 
 " Yes ; ay, to be sure ; and what good work 
 have ye been at, ye sweet nut ? (deevil crack 
 
166 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 ye !) what put these twa sporting-pieces in your 
 hands, forbye your ain, there P""* John Sharpe 
 took up the weapons, ere Gernon could prevent 
 him ; but he said, 
 
 " Leave them where you found them, old 
 John ; they are mine, by right of law.""* 
 
 '' Leave them where I found them ? maybe 
 I will ; and why not ? Yours by right of law, 
 dearee ? what law, pet ?" 
 
 " The good law that empowers all loyal sub- 
 jects of the King to disarm all Papists, where- 
 ever and whenever they shall be found armed ;'' 
 and short explanations from Patrick and Rory, 
 farther supplied the land-steward with the ne- 
 cessary accounts of what had happened before 
 he came up. 
 
 " Ay, to be sure !'^ he tlien continued ; — 
 " oh, doubtless ; and all because the INIayor of 
 Bull-ring says it ; certain — ly ! Here, Master 
 Patrick ! here. Gamekeeper !"' he cried, sudden- 
 ly flinging the pieces behind him, in such a di- 
 rection that they could be promptly seized by 
 their former proprietors, and they were so. 
 " Prime and load !"" he continued, presenting 
 his own musket at Gernon ; " ay, and slip in a 
 ball each, if they are handy : my ain ould ne- 
 ver-fail has ane a few inches aboon her breech. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 167 
 
 already ; she has so, Johnny Gernon ; and now, 
 mind an old soger ;^' here he put his foot on 
 Gernon^s piece, which lay on the ground since 
 its master's plunge into the pool ; — " nathless 
 that you are flavor of Bull-ring, yon — where 
 the horned deevil is, and hath taken up his 
 abode by the side o** your ain sel — as sure as he is 
 in anither place, and at the side of his dearee cf 
 a mother ; and nathless that you are King of all 
 Bachelors — ay, and called captain of figs'-ends, 
 and tailors' geese, and leather-parings, and 
 wax-ends, Johnny — yet, Johnny, pet, ye will be 
 moving from the place you stand, afore I bid 
 ye twice over ; you, and that ugly brute at your 
 knee, — ugly enough to make her ain bairns 
 strike her, — troth, ye will, Johnny ! and have a 
 care how ye come rieving and plundering to 
 our grounds, again, honey, so ye will: troth, 
 jest, now, Johnny." 
 
 " Sharpe, do you have a care what you are 
 for doing,'" said Gernon, in reply to this long 
 exhortation : "I tell you, quietly, over again, 
 the arms are forfeit to the law, being illegally 
 carried by concealed Papists ; and " 
 
 " To be sure," interrupted John Sharpe ; 
 " only, who tould you, Johnny, that we are Pa- 
 pists here ? — and they are to be seized by all 
 
168 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 loyal men ; and who tould ye that you were 
 such, dearee ?" 
 
 " The lad will not deny his calling," answer- 
 ed Gernon. 
 
 " Wont he ? how do you know, pet ? And, 
 supposing he doesn't, how does he know what 
 is his calling ? Does he know, this moment, if 
 he ever had so much as a father ? Tell me that ;'' 
 Patrick did not feel complimented, although, in 
 his own way, John Sharpe meant him well. 
 
 " As to my loyalty, old Sharpe, you shall get 
 some proof of it, yourself, maybe,"" resumed 
 Gernon. 
 
 " And may be so; why not ? well to get any 
 thing, these times : or, if not, obliged til you, 
 Johnny, all the same, ye ken ; only, now your 
 absence would be good company ; and there 's 
 the second time I tould ye so ; troth, jest." 
 
 '' The law has a word to say to fosterers of 
 Papists, as well as to Papists themselves," re- 
 torted Gernon, stooping as if to wind round his 
 wrist the cord by which he held his bitch secu- 
 red : Patrick held Brann also in a leash — " Give 
 me my own piece !" he cried, suddenly springing 
 towards it : his foot slipped. 
 
 " Back, mon !" roared John Sharpe ; " back, 
 first, and forward, after ; or, by the pipe between 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 169 
 
 my teeth, I '11 shoot you as dead as your great- 
 grandfather — a body ye seldom heard o", I reck- 
 on ! — Cover him !"" he continued, addressing Pa- 
 trick and Rory, of whom the latter only stood 
 with a loaded piece ; Patrick had disdain- 
 ed to arm himself in such a contest. " Never 
 mistak' me, Johnny ; I ken what I am about as 
 well as ye can tell me : here am I, land-steward, 
 and under orders from his honour, my master, 
 as also is the gamekeeper at my back, to keep 
 you, and such as you, from trespass upon our 
 grounds ; and because ye have trespassed, 
 over and again, 'tis your piece is the forfeit 
 to us, mon ; and because it is a forfeit, we'll 
 keep it, as sure as gunsmith made it : and so, 
 for the thard time, jest march, dearee — no dis- 
 grace to ye to retreat before odds, ye ken, 
 wherefore ne'er look shamefaced about it — only 
 march, march, pet, nathless." 
 
 With a baffled grin Gernon had been gra- 
 dually moving along the main path towards 
 a private entrance into the grounds, and now 
 he walked on briskly, after glancing one look 
 upon Sharpe, and saying, " 'Tis a long lane has 
 no turning, ould acquaintance." 
 
 Seeing that Patrick remained behind inactive, 
 while Sharpe and Rory followed him with pre- 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
170 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 sented piece, — " Another day for the dogs, 
 Master big O !" he shouted. 
 
 '' As you will," answered Patrick ; " any 
 day ; to-morrow, if you please, after the bull- 
 bait." 
 
 " No, not to-morrow ; nor would I advise you 
 or your Irish jayant to come to our bull-bait, 
 young Sir ;" and he turned out of sight. 
 
 " Gi' us a hand, lad," said John Sharpe, re- 
 turning after he had seen the intruder out of 
 the grounds ; " Papist or no Papist, we know 
 you ower long til stand by and see you wronged 
 by a bull-knecked scapegrace like yon." 
 
 " I thank you, John." Patrick wrung the 
 old man's hands, while tears, more bitter than 
 sweet, filled his eyes. And thus is given, as was 
 promised, the circumstances which produced 
 John's second and most positive declaration of 
 friendship towards Patrick O'Burke; and as 
 Mr. Pendergast had not yet returned from the 
 city, it is thus also explained how that gentle- 
 man's proposed caution of John Gernon w as ren- 
 dered unavailing. When he did come home, 
 and was made acquainted with the fresh broil 
 between him and his young friend and depen- 
 dents, Pendergast exerted all his powers of per- 
 suasion to keep Patrick from future rencounters 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 171 
 
 with the city bully ; and now, as was farther 
 premised, he was doomed to be disregarded ; for 
 in his heart, in consequence of Gernon's parting 
 threat, Patrick had said, '^ To the bull-bait 
 to-morrow I will go ;" and he was sufficiently 
 obstinate, if not ungrateful, to hold by his 
 resolution. 
 
 I 2 
 
172 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 At an early hour next morning, the neigh- 
 bouring city gave abundant indications of the 
 pubhc sport and festivity which were expected 
 to take place within its walls. Its inhabi- 
 tants, of the middle and lower classes, appeared 
 in their holiday clothes, standing at their shop 
 doors, or outside their stalls, or grouped in the 
 streets, all discussing gleeishly the one engross- 
 ing topic. Amongst them might be seen the 
 owners of the dogs destined to death or glory 
 in the bull-ring, each with his important animal 
 in leash, lest he might waste his strength in 
 skirmishing with a rival, or encounter injury by 
 being permitted to roam at large. Of these 
 persons many were butchers, or butchers' boys ; 
 and they generally kept up the most esteemed 
 breed of dogs, and had them always in readiness 
 for combat, because, the year round, they ex- 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 173 
 
 ercised the ferocious habits of the animals by 
 making them guardians of their shambles, other- 
 wise much exposed and unprotected, and more- 
 over, could afford to feed them on the diet best 
 calculated to excite their courage and spirit. 
 But the competition for bull-baiting fame was 
 not confined to the city. From the suburbs, 
 and even from remote hamlets and villages, 
 young farmers, or young peasants, led in their 
 fierce watch-dogs, to try their chance in the ring, 
 under the eye of the Mayor and his critical 
 judges. These latter-mentioned canine war- 
 riors were not highly prized, however, as they 
 seldom had in their veins the true blood for the 
 sport, being either mastiffs, or half-mastiff and 
 half bull-dog, or else quite degraded by a de- 
 scent from the Milesian family of Brann. It is 
 not meant by this that they lacked courage or 
 strength in attacking the bull, or evinced more 
 care of their limbs and lives than did their su- 
 perior brethren : a want of method was the chief 
 crime laid to their charge ; connoisseurs said 
 they did not " fight fair ;" which, perhaps, 
 meant, after all, little more than that they did 
 not display precisely the same tactics as those 
 practised by the peculiar breed of animal which 
 was arbitrarily said to be best fitted by nature 
 
174 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 for the perilous game in question. Such as the 
 rustic candidates for distinction were, however, 
 they invaded the streets of the city in great 
 numbers, they and their masters and seconders, 
 male and female, adding considerably to the 
 noise and bustle of the holiday scene ; while bells 
 jingled in the church steeple, boys and children 
 shouted, and the venerable bellman of the guild 
 went his rounds, proclaiming in an authori- 
 tative though quavering voice, orders issued 
 by the civic powers for the maintaining good 
 order; the passive man submitting without a 
 murmur to the gibes and laughter of his own 
 particular crowd of tiny persecutors, who ac- 
 companied him wherever he moved, and from 
 the cock of his old hat, down to the tarnished 
 buckles of his square-toed shoes, omitted no- 
 thing worthy of their satire. 
 
 At about ten o'clock, the place allotted for 
 the day"'s sport began to be occupied. 
 
 In the middle of the town, at the widest end 
 of the widest street, stood the Market-cross. 
 This was a piece of solid mason-work, shaped 
 according to its name, some twenty feet high, 
 and having a substantial pedestal. As may be 
 concluded, it was the work of more Catholic 
 times, and it had been invented for purposes of 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. IJo 
 
 business and piety, conjointly. During public 
 processions of the clergy and the people, such 
 as were made at Pentecost, mass used to be cele- 
 brated before it ; and thus, considered together 
 with the great event of which it was a symbol, 
 and the rude sculpturings of saints and angels 
 inflicted on its front, the Market-cross served to 
 create devout associations in the minds of the 
 people. Its character so far established, it then 
 asserted its influence over their traffic. In re- 
 mote and loosely-organized times, the buyer in 
 the market which used to assemble in the open 
 space around it, had commonly to apprehend 
 that the article he wished to purchase either was 
 of a bad quality, contrived to look well, or had 
 been stolen by the vender ; hence arose a neces- 
 sity for his receiving some solemn voucher of the 
 goodness of the commodity, or of its having been 
 honestly come by : and in the absence of other 
 forms, or of the means of obtaining them, he 
 was satisfied if the suspected seller stepped up 
 to the cross, and uncovering his head, and laying 
 his hand upon it, swore to the facts required. 
 
 Such had been the ancient sway of the Mar- 
 ket-cross now pointed out to notice : but the 
 growth of wholesome laws and arrangements 
 to regulate buying and selling, as well as the 
 
176 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 change in religion, had, long before the day of 
 the bull-bait which many are about to witness, 
 quite deprived it of its primitive vocation. 
 Excessive zeal had even shattered it, here and 
 there, for the purpose of exterminating the ugly 
 visages of holy men, and the bloated cheeks and 
 goose-wings of the little celestials which were 
 chiselled, very barbarously, as has been hinted, 
 upon part of its surface. And, in fact, the sole, 
 or most important service at present required 
 of the Market-cross, was, that it should securely 
 hold the great iron-ring, which was to hold the 
 rope, which was to hold the bull destined to be 
 baited for the amusement of a more enlightened 
 generation. 
 
 The space round what we may now call the 
 bull-stake, was rudely barricaded at every side ; 
 and, at two sides, very near to the shop-doors 
 and stalls of the street, w^hich were shut up, or 
 otherwise secured, to keep off the pressure of the 
 throng. Behind the barrier, where it crossed 
 the street, and confronted the stake, rough seats 
 of unplained planks had been constructed, rising 
 one above the other, for the accommodation of 
 such persons of condition as could not obtain 
 places in the windows of the houses, at either 
 hand. Immediately under the front row of 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA, IJT 
 
 these seats, was a small enclosure, within the 
 great one, where sat an official person, with a 
 book on his knee, and a pen and ink in his 
 hand. It was his business to write down, be- 
 fore the commencement of the sport, the names 
 of all persons who proposed to set their dogs 
 against the bull, which process he called " en- 
 tering the dogs ;" and he was bound to close his 
 book a full hour clear of the time for slipping 
 the first dog, in order to limit the number of 
 aspirants for fame, preserve order, and ascer- 
 tain who failed and who succeeded during the 
 hurry and interest of the game. After he de- 
 clined to inscribe a name on his important page, 
 no man could, that day, present himself for a 
 chance of glory. 
 
 In the angle of the barrier, to the right of 
 this seat of office, arose the throne of the Mayor 
 of Bull-ring, with lower places for his two she- 
 riffs, and standing room for his inferior attend- 
 ants ; a second small enclosure of stakes and 
 boards being thrown up around all, to guard 
 against possible dangers from tlie bull breaking 
 his rope, or pulling the ring out of the Market- 
 cross, or, perhaps, pulling down the cross itself. 
 
 It has been said that, about ten o'clock, this 
 scene of the approaching entertainment began 
 I 5 
 
178 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 to be filled. Already, indeed, the lowest of the 
 populace were crushing each other almost to 
 death outside the great barriers, and the win- 
 dows of the houses of the street, from the first- 
 floors to the attics and sky-lights, as well as 
 the tops of such as happened to have parapets, 
 became alive with more respectable spectators. 
 The rising seats, over the secretary's enclo- 
 sure — for secretary we now call the man with 
 the book — were not, however, as yet so much 
 thronged, for the reason that men, appointed 
 for the purpose, kept them only for such genteel 
 visitors as might come in a hurry, and be will- 
 ing to pay a handsome price for admission. 
 
 The secretary's- work was nearly done ; one 
 by one, the last of the candidates who were 
 ready to present themselves within the allotted 
 time, jumped over the palings of the larger 
 barrier, followed by their dogs, and ushered 
 forward, and, indeed, permitted to make their 
 jump, by two officials, with ornamented staves 
 in hand ; and one by one they were introduced, 
 at another spring, to the solemn office of the re- 
 gistry ; and after having paid him a small fee, 
 and seen him make some marks in his book, 
 which they believed to be the letters of their 
 names, one by one they vaulted back again, and 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 179 
 
 took their standing-places, as best they might, 
 amongst the rabble, outside the bull-ring. 
 
 But, neither the bull, nor the Mayor of Bull- 
 ring, had yet appeared, and many anxious eyes 
 looked out for their approach. A stir, and loud 
 voices down the street, in the direction whence 
 the latter-mentioned individual was expected to 
 come, in procession, to his throne, seemed at 
 last to promise that popular impatience and 
 curiosity were about to be gratified. The jest- 
 ing, jibing, and loud laughter and exclamation 
 which had previously arisen from the crowd 
 subsided into silence, or into w^hifiperings, and 
 the glances of all turned to the tiers of seats 
 above the secretary's stool ; for, by a narrow 
 private passage, which flanked those seats, it 
 was known that the master of the sports would 
 enter the ring to gain his place of dignity. 
 
 Few eyes could penetrate down the street ; 
 but the bustle drew nearer ; and presently, in- 
 stead of the Mayor and his state emerging from 
 the private passage, tlie fat proprietor of the 
 head inn suddenly appeared on the highest and 
 most remote of the seats, his head bare, and 
 pufiing and blowing from unusual exertion, 
 while he said in a loud though hoarse voice — 
 
 '' Genteels ! neighbours, and all good lads ! 
 
180 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 here be a great man, from foreign parts, and 
 along with him two ladies of his family, who 
 having just put up at the King's Arms (a proof 
 of his loyalty and fair intentions), and heard 
 of the noble sport about to be proceeded in, are 
 in need of a convenient place for the day; 
 wherefore I, Kit Holmes, crave for him and 
 his fair dames, in the name of courtesy and 
 hospitality, and in my own name, and in the 
 name of the King's Arms, that you accommodate 
 him with one upon the moment ; and well I 
 know, the best you have, he shall have, — ay, 
 your best of the best — your place of honour for 
 the strangers V 
 
 The professional zeal mixed up with this 
 speech did not escape the keen perceptions of 
 the crowd, and " Bravo, Kit !" was loudly 
 shouted in mockery of the innkeeper, at the same 
 time that no delay occurred, particularly among 
 the more respectable people already in posses- 
 sion of some of the important rough planks, in 
 answering his eloquent appeal. A party Avho 
 sat in the very front row , directly over the Se- 
 cretary's box, immediately arose, and vacated 
 their places in favour of Kit Holmes's " great 
 man from foreign parts, and the two ladies of 
 his family :'' and so soon as Kit had paid 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 181 
 
 gracious thanks for what he chose to mono- 
 polize as a personal compliment, he turned his 
 back upon the ring, and bowed profoundly to 
 some one under him, who, it would seem, stood 
 in the street. The next moment the trio, in 
 whose cause he had been so energetic, appeared 
 before the curious multitude. 
 
 First came, springing from plank to plank, 
 a gentleman, certainly of some consideration, 
 tall and well made, and answering, in his attire, 
 to the innkeeper**s promise of his being " from 
 foreign parts :"' of his features, the people could 
 scarcely judge, as his low-flapping hat, and the 
 standing collar of his travelling-cloak, were ar- 
 ranged so as almost wholly to disguise them. 
 When he had about half ascended the seats, 
 he paused, turned round, and extended his arm 
 and hand; and promptly responding to his offer 
 of service, a comely young lady, of eighteen or 
 nineteen, also wearing a dress different from 
 the fashions at present around her, bounded up 
 the plank as spiritedly as he had done, though 
 more gracefully, took his hand first and next 
 his arm, and then both faced the audience, and 
 smiling and laughing, as they spoke to each 
 other in strange language, continued their way, 
 ushered by Kit Holmes, down to the place of 
 
182 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 honour which had been prepared for them. 
 Before the}^ stepped into it, however, they stop- 
 ped short, looked behind them, and the young 
 lady raised one of her fingers in earnest appeal 
 to her com})anion, upon which he assisted her 
 hastily into her seat, and then hurried back the 
 way he had come. The spectators, anxiously 
 watching for his re-appearance, saw him, in a few 
 minutes, leading by the hand another lady, very 
 young, very low and slight, but of a childishly- 
 reserved deportment, habited in attire of a grave 
 colour, and having a decidedly foreign face, of 
 which the tint was dark, the nose long and 
 somewhat hooked, the lips liny, though well- 
 formed, the forehead strikingly high, and the 
 eyes deep black, round, observant, indeed, almost 
 restless. She did not spring forward as her 
 friend had done, but stepped firmly and, it seem- 
 ed, haughtily ; nor did she laugh or smile, nor 
 cling close to her guide, but barely touching his 
 hand, suffered him to lead her. Once or twice 
 he stooped his head and whispered something 
 to her, which, from his manner, seemed meant 
 for her amusement ; but no pleasant lines played 
 about her mouth, and she only looked up at 
 him with eyes full of serious if not impas- 
 sioned meaning. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 183 
 
 They gained their seats. The good-humour- 
 ed young lady rose to receive her friend, and 
 it seemed by her intentness as she spoke, by 
 her conciliating smiles, and by her pointing 
 backward, that perhaps she made excuses for 
 having left her grave companion behind. But 
 if such was the case, her amiable apologies did 
 not appear to be received in the spirit in which 
 they were offered ; for the person whom she ad- 
 dressed only bowed with an air half humble, 
 half offended, and sighing deeply, then awaited 
 her time to sit down ; that is, remained stand- 
 ing till her fair companion had become seated. 
 
 When all had settled themselves in their 
 places, the gentleman dividing the two ladies, 
 they could not long remain unaware that they 
 attracted the full attention of the crowd as- 
 sembled around them : in fact, every eye was 
 fixed upon the strangers, and they must have 
 even overheard some of the many conjectures 
 as to who and what they were, as well as re- 
 marks upon their attire, persons, and features, 
 which rather freely escaped the common people 
 who stood without the barriers; and the three 
 young visitors bore this by no means pleasant 
 notoriety each in a different way. The gentle- 
 man turned sideways, his hat and cloak-collar 
 
184 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 now completely hiding his face, leaned his 
 elbow on the edge of the enclosure, in contact 
 with which he sat, and spoke in a low tone, now 
 to one lady, now to the other. His black-eyed 
 charge, when she first observed the stare of the 
 crowd, drew a thick veil over her face, and af- 
 terwards shifted her position, in evident impa- 
 tience ; but her contrast — for contrast she was, 
 being of a good height, and of a full, almost a 
 jolly figure ; and having fair skin and fair hair, 
 blue eyes, a straight nose, nearly meriting to be 
 called short, and just redeemed from a turn-up ; 
 a little narrow mouth, but the lips so rich, 
 that when they closed, which was seldom, they 
 almost made a circle; a round, large chin, 
 which promised to be double not long after she 
 should become a matron ; and round cheeks, 
 really rose-red, and deeply-dimpled ; this hap- 
 py-looking creature took the admiration of the 
 good people in a very different spirit. She, al- 
 so, had a veil, but instead of lowering it, she 
 put it quite up, throwing it gracefully, though 
 a little daringly, over her head-dress, and then 
 she sent her laughing, satirical blue eyes over 
 the whole assembly, at first as gravely as she 
 could, but finally allowing them to dance, and 
 glitter, and half close in smiles, w^hile with per- 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 185 
 
 feet self-command, and perhaps some contempt, 
 she seemed to select for critical remark to her 
 companions individuals of the motley throng. 
 
 This did not escape the notice of the causers 
 of her mirth ; and in consequence, although up- 
 on her first brilliant appearance among them 
 she had the effect of a suddenly-unclouded sky 
 of a dull day, they began to take umbrage, and 
 to vote her bearing and conduct audacious, 
 vulgar, unfeminine. The passionate ill-hu- 
 mour of the lesser lady had already offended 
 them. And in the manner of the gentleman, 
 also, they thought they saw additional grounds 
 for being angry ; for, though he still contrived 
 to conceal his face, it seemed, that whenever his 
 laughing companion turned to convey to his ear 
 the result of a new observation, he stooped his 
 head to laugh with her, and thus encouraged 
 her in making little of the company around her : 
 an ungrateful return, to say the least, for the 
 ready politeness shown to the new-comers. 
 
 The grave or scowling faces of the assembly 
 soon evinced the feelings which began to rise in 
 their breasts, and which they now encouraged 
 by communicating to each other. Presently 
 they found words to retort upon their provoking 
 critic and her party, the glances and dumb- 
 
186 THE LAST BARON OP CRANA. 
 
 show with which she vexed them. " Trollops, 
 — not ladies !" cried some. " No gentleman, 
 wherever he comes from !"" said others. " Ran- 
 dall Oge O'Hagan, with two of his mesdamoi- 
 selles, maybe, come in disguise among honest 
 people, to see who is best worth overtaking on 
 the road home!" proclaimed a country-looking 
 man. He pronounced, in this accusation, the 
 name of a notorious freebooter, one of the cap- 
 tains or chiefs, as was supposed, of the Rappa- 
 ree bands, who had aided King James in the 
 late Civil war, and who, after the termination of 
 hostilities, continued to exist, as common high- 
 waymen, in the otherwise peaceful country of 
 Ireland. And Randall Oge CHagan was so 
 celebrated, if not admired, for his masquerading 
 talents upon many occasions, that this hint took 
 well, and was caught up and re-echoed by the 
 crowd, bitterly, and with various modifications. 
 The speaker himself drew some of the attention 
 of his audience. He stood close outside the 
 barrier, wearing, as has been indicated, a pea- 
 sanf s dress, and obviously a candidate for the 
 honour of slipping at the bull a large mastiff, 
 whose nose peeped over the planks at his mas- 
 ter's side ; and so far there was nothing remark- 
 able in the man. His great stature, however, 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 187 
 
 rising above the heads of the throng behind 
 him, and at either hand, as he sturdily folded 
 his arms across his breast, became the admira- 
 tion of many ; and the women of the mob prais- 
 ed his handsome face ; for, not\vithstanding its 
 certain expression of daringness, it was com- 
 posed of a fine, open, tranquil forehead, a Ro- 
 man nose, smiling eyes and mouth, and a beau- 
 tiful projecting chin, all of the largest order. 
 
 The people were not sure that the strangers 
 understood the language in which these re- 
 proaches had been addressed to them, and, in- 
 deed, their subsequent conduct seemed to prove 
 that they did not. For in nothing did they 
 evince an improved sense of respect for their 
 company, or a consciousness of having been un- 
 civilly or insultingly accosted ; and the cries of 
 the assembly now assumed a menacing tone, 
 many voices calling out to have the intruders 
 dragged back from the conspicuous and honour- 
 able place they were thought unworthy to oc- 
 cupy, when a new event riveted the attention 
 and interest of the more clamorous, and for the 
 present saved — our friends. 
 
188 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The clock in the steeple of the market-house, 
 which towered almost over his head, struck 
 eleven upon the glad ears of the man of the 
 book, proclaiming the hour at which he was free 
 to shut his registry, and decline to enter the 
 names of any more candidates for the day's sport. 
 Accordingly, he closed the ponderous volume, 
 with a clap that startled his admiring spectators, 
 and in a loud voice commanded some of the 
 servants of the ring to lead the bull from his 
 adjacent stall, and bind him to his stake, the 
 battered and humiliated market-cross. 
 
 These proceedings, of themselves, diverted 
 the wrath of the people from their imperturb- 
 able tormenters, and even produced some slight 
 decorum in the critical young lady and her 
 party : but it is to what followed we would in- 
 vite passing attention. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 189 
 
 A struggle took place at that point of the 
 barrier over which the proprietors of the assem- 
 bled dogs had jumped to approach the secre- 
 tary. It was evident that the two stout officials 
 there posted endeavoured to prevent some late 
 aspirants from passing into the ring : voices rose 
 high in altercation, and the guardians of good- 
 order flourished their staves, and used their 
 hands to push back the pertinacious claimant. 
 But, after much wrangling, at a favourable op- 
 portunity, he cleared the nearly breast-high in- 
 closure at a bound, and stood within the pro- 
 hibited arena. 
 
 " The most Christian and properest-look- 
 ing man I have seen, as yet,"' said the watch- 
 ful young lady to her companions, speaking 
 French. 
 
 " Ay ?" whispered her male friend, half turn- 
 ing round to confront this praised person ; but 
 checking himself, " You know, my dear, I must 
 still hide my face from them all, as long and as 
 well as I can ; but describe your knight, mad- 
 cap." 
 
 " Tall, and about twenty-five; well-contrived 
 in the limbs ; well enough in feature for a man ; 
 a smart, though somewhat rustic cap, set loosely 
 on his head, a green riding-coat to his back, but- 
 
190 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 toned tight, as who should say he had not a 
 figure to show, a sword at his side, spurs at his 
 heel, a whip in his hand, ruffles at his wrist, 
 and the sauciness of Lucifer in swaddling-bands 
 on his face, now that he has made that wonder- 
 ous jump and cleared those plebeian grooms.'" 
 
 " Good, for a sketch ;— now tell me what else 
 he is good for, or may be ?" 
 
 " Hark, and know ! — There was a fairy-blast, 
 wound on the silver whistle slung round his 
 neck!" 
 
 " To what purpose ?" 
 
 " Oh, that you could see ! — it has summoned, 
 and brought to his knee, over the shoulders 
 and heads of all opposers, a monster, of I know 
 not what race, but I suppose we must call it 
 dog, upon this dog-day, as big as a Kerry 
 cow, and, heaven save us ! looking as fierce as 
 a royal tiger." 
 
 " And how many have both eaten up, as 
 yet?" 
 
 " You must wait a while to learn, if I am 
 to be your instructress — the scene grows too 
 good to look at and tell of in a breath ; only 
 have patience, however, and I shall faithfully 
 copy it for your idleness." 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 191 
 
 While the lively lady takes her own time to 
 represent things as she pleases, other spectators 
 shall not be kept waiting. Patrick O'Burke 
 stood patting Brann's head, and scowling defi- 
 ance at her and his temporary enemies. The 
 guardians of the barrier advance hostilely to 
 him, and commanded him to repass the bounds 
 he had broken with his dog. 
 
 " That I will never do, masters," replied 
 Patrick, now smiling contemptuously, and 
 speaking with assumed carelessness — " I am 
 here to have my name, or rather my little dog's 
 name, entered in your book for a tilt at the 
 bull, and my business must be done — where is 
 the man to speed it ?" 
 
 The sturdy officials pointed to the secretary, 
 enclosed within his proper palings; but added 
 that the hour was past, and that it would be 
 useless to apply to him. 
 
 " We shall see,"' said Patrick, and with only 
 a slight exertion of strength and skill, he alight- 
 ed close at the secretary's side, impetuously 
 followed by Brann, who, in making her own 
 bound, struck the solemn officer with one of 
 her paws, and somewhat disturbed the dignity 
 of his position on his three-leggod stool. 
 
192 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 '^Ma graw gal gorfoon he war !" shouted the 
 always agitated voice of the unseen Rory La- 
 herty, from the outskirts of the crowd. 
 
 " Never a better !" echoed the rather more 
 visible John Sharpe, whose cross-grained face 
 just peered in a mixture of convulsions, (from 
 great pressure, treading on his toes, wrath 
 against all around him, and approbation of his 
 newly-elected protege,) between the scraggy 
 neck of a tall old woman and the shoulders of a 
 gigantic man — " Never abetter, — lad ! til him, 
 til him !— hu, ugh !" 
 
 But neither his own courage and address, 
 nor the aid of these exhortations, enabled Pat- 
 rick to gain his point with the precise secretary. 
 The hour had struck, " and not even prince or 
 king, ay, or the great Pope of Rome himself, 
 with all his bulls,'^ — this he added sneeringly — 
 " should enter a dog that day in the entering 
 book." 
 
 '• But you mean not to say, good fellow, that 
 my dog shall not take her turn at your bull, if 
 he and I fancy it .?'' questioned Patrick. 
 
 Yes; the obdurate secretary meant exactly 
 that, and nothing else ; nay, he meant more 
 than that— he meant that Patrick should quit 
 the ring forthwith, and take his stand among 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 193 
 
 the good people outside its limits, as the bull 
 would immediately be led to his stake, and the 
 Mayor immediately follow, and time could not 
 be spared for idle altercation. 
 
 " No, no, friend," said Patrick, " I do not 
 think it is in my mind to undergo, anew, a 
 squeezing such as I have just escaped from ; 
 but since you will not oblige me in the slight 
 matter I have demanded of you, you cannot 
 surely make objection that I stand here, at your 
 side, to witness the coming sport ?''' 
 
 Strong and loud objections, however, the offi- 
 cer did make ; and when Patrick repeatedly 
 declared that he would not move from his pre- 
 sent comfortable place, he angrily commanded 
 the two keepers of the barrier, who all this time 
 stood near, and as many more hands as were 
 willing, to force " the spawn of the old Papist" 
 out of the ring. 
 
 " Hear you that ?" whispered the observant 
 young lady so often spoken of to her male 
 companion : it will be remembered, that the re- 
 markable strangers sat in the front and lowest 
 row of the tiers of planks, and were divided 
 from the secretary's enclosure only by stakes 
 and boards. 
 
 " If I am removed, good fellow," remon- 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
194 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 strated Patrick, drawing his light sword, " it 
 must only be after this bright steel passes 
 through the churl bodies of more than one who 
 shall dare to lay hands upon me: — and look 
 you," pointing to Brann, who began to growl 
 and pace round her master, " this Papish 
 hound is to be removed too."*' 
 
 The voice of the secretary rose higher ; he 
 appealed to the assembly against these blood- 
 thirsty threats of one w^ho drew upon peaceable 
 and loyal people a sword which he was not en- 
 titled to wear at his hip, and many of the low^er 
 orders, particularly those who, like Patrick, 
 had come too late to be "entered,'** but who, 
 like him, durst not venture to insist on oppo- 
 sing the laws of the Bull-ring, answered the 
 appeal by hissing, hooting, and crying out to 
 have the " saucy Papish cur" flung headlong 
 to theni; that they might award him his merits. 
 At the same time, three or four of the most vio- 
 lent of the mob prepared to clear the barrier 
 and reinforce the installed gviardians of good 
 order, and it seemed, indeed, that matters were 
 to proceed to extremity. 
 
 " Can we do nothing to assist the Papist 
 lad ?'* again demanded the young lady of the 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 195 
 
 gentleman at her side ; and thereupon they be- 
 gan to whisper earnestly together. 
 
 " Hold, fellows," cried Patrick, seizing Brann's 
 bristling neck ere the foremost of his foes closed 
 upon him : " I wish to avoid all real violence 
 if possible, and therefore let us strike a parley : 
 provide me a seat here^ at my back, and I will 
 quietly leave your ring." 
 
 But when inquiring glances were directed to 
 the seats he spoke of, no place appeared vacant, 
 all having been occupied within the last half- 
 hour. 
 
 "fBy well-managed packing and contriving, 
 it may be done, however," resumed the young 
 lady, still speaking to her protector ; . and while 
 she spoke, she and both her friends moved 
 close together. 
 
 " Quit, quit !" roared Patrick''s opponents, 
 " there is no room for you among the gentle- 
 folks ; quit ! — and take your stand with your 
 betters outside the ring." 
 
 " Turn," said a low, sweet voice, almost at 
 Patrick's ear ; and when he obeyed the com- 
 mand, his eyes encountered those of his new 
 friend, as she pointed to a scanty seat by her 
 own side. Surprise and, indeed, admiration, 
 K 2 
 
196 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 kept him silent for a moment, — and motionless 
 too, except that Avitli much respect and cere- 
 mony he raised his hand to his cap, and stood 
 uncovered and bowing before her. 
 
 " Ha^ste, if indeed you are in earnest dis- 
 posed to save us a broil," she resumed, speaking 
 briskly, while she turned her eyes and head 
 away — '' haste, and treasure up your politeness 
 for another time, and for some other person ; 
 doubtless 'tis not too much to carrv about with 
 you?'' 
 
 " Madam — " Patrick began to mumble- 
 
 " Jump, Sir ! we have seen that you can do 
 that at the least — jump! and let us rest in 
 peace and quietness." 
 
 And, thus exhorted, Patrick did jump, 
 and so did Brann, uninvited, and in a few 
 seconds was settled, to his great surprise and 
 delight, by the side of his despotic patroness, 
 his huge hound trying to crush himself down 
 at his feet. 
 
 The conduct, during this scene, of the tall 
 and handsome countryman who had accused 
 Patrick's protectress of being at present 
 seated under the guardianship of the far-famed 
 Rapparee Randall Oge O'Hagan is worthy of 
 notice. He stood at that point of the barrier 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 197 
 
 around which clustered the most zealous se- 
 conders of decorum, some of whom even- 
 tually entered the ring to support the men with 
 the stav^es. In the begining of the tumult, no 
 voice arose louder than his in exhortations to 
 punish the unbefriended Papist ; and when those 
 near him prepared to scramble over the en- 
 closure, still he was earnest in encouraging them. 
 And yet one or two shrewd and comparatively 
 quiet spectators, who watched his manner and 
 proceedings, felt half-disposed to believe that 
 much of this show of energy was of a doubtful 
 character. A smile seemed to lurk in the comers 
 of his mouth at the moment that his words 
 breathed the most uncompromising wrath in 
 echo to the outcries around him ; nay, the tones 
 of his voice might be supposed to hide, in their 
 very loudness, a mockery of the factious spirit 
 which he caught up and repeated. It was 
 suspected too, although he readily volunteered 
 to assist the reinforcement against Patrick in 
 struggling through the dense crowd and passing 
 the barrier, and although he even appeared to 
 exert his great strength for the purjjose, that he 
 contrived to impede rather than accelerate their 
 progress, in something of the way in which 
 one, while playing with a child, will pretend to 
 
198 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 lend the urchin a hand to enable it to stand on 
 its legs and run away, at the very time that one 
 slily manages to keep it rolling about on the 
 floor. But more interesting persons must be 
 attended to. 
 
 " Now, at the least, Madam," resumed Pa- 
 trick, after he occupied his rather scanty seat, 
 " you will permit me to express my gratitude 
 for your timely courtesy shown in my favour.'^ 
 
 " No ; and for a good reason, because there has 
 been no courtesy shown in your favour,"' the 
 lady answered him, while her eyes were fixed 
 on the people straight before her at the other 
 side of the ring;. 
 
 " In my poor Brann's favour, then ?"" ques- 
 tioned Patrick, ironically and half-oiFended. 
 
 " No, again ; for fear of the old saying. 
 Favour me, favour my dog." 
 
 " In whose, then ? for assuredly here are 
 but Brann and myself to contest the honour, 
 unless that, without our knowledge, we are each 
 two dogs and two men ; — in whose favour then, 
 Madam ?" 
 
 " I have as much as answered your question 
 beforehand : — in favour of my friends and my- 
 self, and of all peaceable people here, who have 
 not come to see an Irish, or rather a mongrel 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 199 
 
 Irish, bull-ling changed into a gladiator's 
 circus." 
 
 " Well, Madam, I must be grateful to Hea- 
 ven, then, if not to you, for any chance which 
 
 has gained me the happi 1 mean the honour, 
 
 I now enjoy/' 
 
 Patrick withdrew the familiar word he was 
 about to utter, because he saw a slight cloud 
 begin to gather on the young lady's sunny brow. 
 
 " To Heaven, and to your guardian angel and 
 patron saint, like a good Papist,'" she added, 
 
 " Good, or bad, or indifferent," he replied, 
 again hurt, and allowing it to appear that he 
 was, " I will not believe that I have been gene- 
 rously rescued from the common insult of the 
 mob around us, to be " 
 
 '■' Twitted with Papistry here ? Well ; and 
 you need not fully believe it, unless you are 
 very much of a mind to do so, and further- 
 more determined to wage war, as best you 
 can, against every creature you speak witli."" 
 
 " On the knees of my Papist heart, then. 
 Madam, I crave pardon for my unworthy 
 doubt; particularly as your last words embol- 
 den me to think, though upon indirect ground?, 
 that I have a right to thank you for something, 
 after all." 
 
200 THE LAST BARON OF GRAN A. 
 
 " For nothing under the blessed sun ; and 
 yet try your genius anew at the game of seeing 
 things out of sight." 
 
 '' Thus, then, under your permission. Since 
 I have not obtained entrance to this honour- 
 able seat that I might hear my religion cast 
 into my teeth as a disgrace and a by-word, 
 surely it was at least pity for the unse- 
 conded Catholic that suggested the freeing 
 him of the taunts, and perhaps worse, of the 
 
 crowd without and even for pity I will be 
 
 grateful— I, who so seldom find it." 
 
 " Still, I would counsel you, Sir, not to be at 
 the trouble, though perhaps there was a little 
 of what you speak about in the matter, and 
 who could help it ? A unit of an unfledged 
 Papist flourishing his bauble sword against yon- 
 der host of bold and brave loyalists ! We deem- 
 ed you an escaped bedlamite, here ; or supposing 
 your wits about you, wondered that you did 
 not go on your knees, and cry miserecorde, from 
 sheer instinct." 
 
 " Again supposing the instinct." 
 
 " To be sure; and why should it not be sup- 
 posed ? They know it is in you, and in all of your 
 tribe ; and ye are tvhat ye are because of that 
 knowledge — second-hand men, and your wives 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 201 
 
 and daughters helots of helots ; things are ye, 
 made only to be fined, imprisoned, disarmed, — 
 (how come you by that plaything at your hip? 
 think you to wear it long, after to-day r) — 
 disarmed, disinherited, whipped to church by 
 the beadle, or threatened with the loss of double 
 your fortunes —twelvepence each, — and voted 
 unworthy of loyal housewives, loyal mistresses, 
 — (you rode hither to-day, did you ?) sparrow- 
 shooting, governorship of rabbit-warrens, and. 
 town bell-ringing." 
 
 *' I did not indeed know — " Patrick began, 
 but she interrupted him. 
 
 " Look again at the men in whose presence 
 you have dared to think yourself a man, and 
 thank God that you now breathe to feel a true 
 repentance, — note the inborn superiority that 
 sits upon their foreheads, and flashes from their 
 noble eyes. See in particular the grand being just 
 opposite to us, whose head, wedged in between 
 two others, is gracefully covered with a red and 
 blue night-cap, — and was it to his beard, and to 
 the beards of sucli as he, you presumed to offer 
 defiance ? — beard, I may say, for owing, doubt- 
 less, to the lofty pursuits of the week, (he will 
 turn out to be the free, high-caste butcher of 
 your city, I reckon) — it has thriven on his 
 K 5 
 
202 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 chin since the last Saturday at night to this 
 present Saturday morning : — before him, and 
 such as him, you bared your little sword, did 
 you ? and deemed yourself worthy of slipping 
 your Papish hound at an orthodox lord of the 
 meadows? (Heaven keep you, pray I, from 
 the thought of whisj)ering your bristly monster 
 over these palings and planks, by and by, in 
 despite of them all !") 
 
 Patrick did not well know what to think of 
 this rapidly-spoken tirade. The previous sim- 
 plicity of his life left him almost ignorant of 
 the worldly mode of hiding a meaning under a 
 play of words ; and whether the lady ridiculed 
 him, or his late opponents, he could not exactly 
 divine. He was, however, more disposed than 
 otherwise to decide in his own favour, and, at 
 all events, he felt amused at her remarks, and 
 once or twice had nearly laughed out. 
 
 After his timely escape from the secretary's 
 box, those who had been pressing upon him, 
 sulkily retired, at the prudent recommendation 
 of the most important person yet arrived upon 
 the scene, and left him to enjoy his seat in com- 
 parative peace. The ill-humour of the crowd 
 still continued, however, against him, and when 
 they had time to observe how he had disposed 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 203 
 
 of himself, it began to return in full force 
 against his chance protectors also, and blend- 
 ing into one great current, this double flow of 
 disapprobation soon became re-directed towards 
 the place occupied by the strangers. During 
 the lady's late discourse with Patrick, she re- 
 sumed her good-humoured but mocking notice 
 of the people, as may have been concluded from 
 one of her illustrations, and the uproar against 
 the unpopular visitors grew^ louder and more 
 hostile than ever. 
 
 Perhaps because he observed this, " the great 
 man from foreign parts," who, since Patrick's 
 coming, had been turned almost with his back 
 to him and his fair lecturer, his face completely 
 hidden from the youth's notice, and seemingly 
 absorbed in conversation with the dark-cheek- 
 ed girl, moved himself slowly round, and made 
 a sign for his second young charge to attend to 
 something he had to say. She inclined her head 
 accordingly. Patrick's eye involuntarily fixed 
 on the reserved gentleman of the party which 
 protected him, and who, to his great surprise 
 previously felt, had not yet honoured him with 
 a salute. The moment he looked, that person, 
 evidently after glancing, for the first time, at 
 him, was in the act of starting on his seat in a 
 
204 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 remarkable manner, but had withdrawn his fea- 
 tures from possible observation ; then there 
 ensued between him and his more communica- 
 tive companion whisperings more earnest than 
 those with which their secret parlance had com- 
 menced, and Patrick detected tlie young lady 
 looking askance at himself, seemingly in much 
 interest. In a moment afterwards her cloaked 
 friend again turned avv^ay, and she sat upright 
 in her place, with unusual gravity of deport- 
 ment, but with a new and lively interest still 
 playing through her speaking features. 
 
 She did not hasten, however, to resume any 
 conversation with Patrick, and he was studying 
 what question to ask her, when loud shouts 
 outside the ring fixed the attention of all, and 
 even of those of the crowd who had been so 
 angry against him and his satirical protectress. 
 The people present caught up the shout, and 
 the bull w^as ushered to his stake, gaining it by 
 a passage, left open for him, to the base of the 
 market-cross, from a neighbouring alley of the 
 town. The animal was blindfolded when he 
 entered the ring, a cloth being thrown over his 
 head, as well, perhaps, to disguise its ornaments, 
 until the fitting time, from public gaze, as to hin- 
 der him from being scared and rendered prema- 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 205 
 
 turely ill-tempered during his progress from his 
 stall. But so soon as the cable, ingeniously 
 and firmly affixed to his hind-legs, had been 
 secured in the iron ring of the market-cross, his 
 conductors whisked off with an air of triumph 
 his envious veil, and at the sight of his gar- 
 landed front and gilt horns, if not at the grand 
 glare of his courageous eyes, another great 
 shout arose from the spectators. 
 
 " Noble creature !" said Patrick, willing to 
 be heard by the lady at his side ; " how asto- 
 nished and how inquiringly he looks at the 
 unexpected scene around him, as yet unsuspi- 
 cious of the many foes he is led hither to en- 
 counter — though, there now ! as the more cur- 
 rish dogs begin to bark and jump up to get a 
 view of him outside the palings, he begins to 
 have a misgiving, and to prepare for the fight." 
 
 No answer was returned to this speech ; and 
 Patrick continued, — " I do fear now and then 
 that bull-baiting is but an inhuman and uncivi- 
 lized sport." 
 
 " Especially, for ladies," said his compa- 
 nion. Patrick endeavoured to explain himself 
 out of the conclusion which he had certainly 
 induced. 
 
 " Enough," she resumed ; " the words have 
 
206 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 been spoken, and I agree with you and I do 
 not. Use and the fashions of countries have 
 much to do, if they have not all to do, with 
 questions like this ; and I have passed my 
 childhood and girlhood in a country where 
 ladies with blood- royal in their veins sit out 
 exhibitions of the king of the pastures, which 
 engage him in contests, not with dogs, at the 
 risk of his being scratched, but with armed 
 men, on horseback and a-foot, under the cer- 
 tainty of his being slain before the game is 
 over."" 
 
 If Patrick had a doubt of the seemliness of a 
 lady being present at a bull-bait, these asser- 
 tions removed it ; but in fact it was nearly im- 
 possible that such a doubt, at least in any 
 strong shape, could have possessed his mind ; 
 for from his childhood he too had seen the 
 gentler sex of every rank attend such displays, 
 nor had he been able to advance before his 
 habits and his age, like Touchstone, so as to 
 express his astonishment that " rib-breaking 
 should be sport for ladies." But still fearful 
 that he might be supposed to have ventured a 
 reproof on the subject, he was about saying 
 something very conciliating, when the approach 
 of the Mayor of Bull-ring to open the amuse- 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 207 
 
 ments of the day, once more compelled him to 
 be silent. 
 
 A squeaking trumpet and a dull-sounding 
 drum, beaten with one stick, were heard behind 
 the seats at his back, and then along the private 
 passage which flanked them. Treble acclaims 
 filled the air. The rude door of the passage 
 leading into the ring opened, and preceded 
 by trumpeter and drummer, and by his bailiffs, 
 and followed by his sheriffs, the Mayor ap- 
 proached his chair of authority. 
 
 His bailiffs, his sheriffs, and himself, were 
 habited and appointed so as to give a gro- 
 tesque, yet showy imitation of the real autho- 
 rities of the city, whose names they usurped. 
 He wore a red flowing gown trimmed with 
 ermine, and much more embroidered than its 
 prototype; his ample peruke descended over 
 his shoulders ; enormous muslin bands pended 
 from beneath his chin, and his white wand was 
 clasped with dignity in his right-hand, while 
 his left led on his beauty Maud. One of his 
 bailiffs, both attired like him in extravagant 
 emulation of their realities, -carried his huge 
 mock-sword of oflice ; the right shoulder of the 
 other groaned under a mace, of which the top 
 was a heavy block of wood, uncouthly carv^ed 
 
208 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 into the likeness of a bulPs head, and covered 
 with Dutch-foil; the smart cocked-hats, swords, 
 and whole costume of his sheriffs, were still 
 copies of their proper originals, (though in bet- 
 ter taste, for the young bachelors who enacted 
 these parts paid much attention to the gen- 
 tility of their appearance ;) and even the mask- 
 ing trumpeter had on the uniform of him of 
 the city corps, who always ran, swelling his 
 cheeks and making a wretched noise, before the 
 true Mayor of the loyal guild, and before each 
 Judge of assize upon his arrival in the town : 
 and the youth who smote the wet sheepskin of 
 the drum with one stick, was a mumming cari- 
 cature of the old man who always attended 
 the chairing of a member of Parliament at 
 elections. 
 
 And thus attended and caparisoned, the 
 Mayor of Bull-ring stepped up to his high chair 
 with gravity and dignity ; his sheriffs occupied 
 their stalls at his left-hand ; his bailiffs stood 
 with the sword and mace on the ground be- 
 neath^ and the trumpeter forthwith issued pro- 
 clamation to begin " the noble game of bull- 
 baiting." 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 209 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " Hear ye ' hear ye ! hear ye ! all good men 
 of bull-ring !" cried the trumpeter : " by virtue 
 of his high and excellent office, and in honour 
 and perpetuation of ancient times and customs, 
 his Worship ]Mr. ^layor now wills and com- 
 mands that the noble game of bull-bait be here 
 and forthwith opened."' 
 
 A good-humoured cheer, mingled with laugh- 
 ter, testified general consent and approbation of 
 the Mayor's orders, and of the mock solemnity 
 in which his crier made this proclamation. The 
 trumpeter continued : — 
 
 " And first, it is his Worship's will and plea- 
 sure that the laws and regulations of bull-ring 
 be well understood by all his subjects, to the 
 effect following : — 
 
 " The noble game to commence by slipping 
 one dog at a time against Sir Bull, till all the 
 
210 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 dogs entered take their turn ; and first dog first) 
 and last dog last, according to the order of the 
 book of entry. 
 
 " Then such dogs as shall have legs to stand 
 on, are to attack Sir Bull in a body, for the 
 melee. 
 
 " Any two or more dogs that forget their 
 proper enemy to fight amongst themselves, shall 
 be withdrawn from the melee by their masters, 
 and not suffered to take to the ring again. 
 
 " No dog that has not been duly and lawfully 
 entered shall encounter Sir Bull during this 
 day's bait ; and if a dog transgress this law, he 
 shall be dealt with according to the judgment 
 and sentence of Mr. Mayor, even to extremity. 
 
 " There is no appeal allowed from the de- 
 cisions of Mr. Mayor, whether in the awarding 
 of praise or blame to the dogs, or in punishing 
 them, as has been last proclaimed. 
 
 "And now, valour and good fortune to all 
 good dogs of bull-ring, and may the best win 
 the day — God save the King and Mr. Mayor !" 
 
 While the crier adorned the close of his pro- 
 clamation by a new flourish on his trumpet, to 
 which the vapid drum and the resumed shouts 
 of the people made answer, Patrick's fair friend 
 said, " A timely warning in the two last man- 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 211 
 
 dates to all such as dare dream of slipping an 
 unprivileged dog." 
 
 " We shall see," answered Patrick. In fact, 
 her first hint to him on this point had not been 
 forgotten, and she now spoke with a smiling 
 sarcasm which piqued him still more. He re- 
 membered, also, that he had come to the bull- 
 bait, and brought Brann with him, chiefly be- 
 cause John Gernon had commanded both to stay 
 away ; and the refusal of the man of the book 
 to enter his name for " a turn at the bull," to 
 say nothing of the insults he had afterwards 
 suffered, farther tempted Patrick to form a will 
 of his own on the subject. 
 
 A description of the day's amusement may 
 now be expected ; but notwithstanding that such 
 an exhibition was called fashionable in Eng- 
 land and in Ireland about one hundred and 
 thirty years ago, and that therefore eren a lady's 
 presence at it in those days must necessarily be 
 excused by us, it is not intended to proceed 
 with the sport under the eyes of more refined 
 and enlightened spectators of either sex. The 
 fortunes of many poor dogs, therefore, as one 
 by one they rushed to encounter tlie now en- 
 raged object of their unprovoked hostility, must 
 remain dead to fame or to commiseration. But 
 
^12 THE LAST BARON OF GHANA. 
 
 events are connected with one or two dogs in 
 particular, which may palliate some slight allu- 
 sions to the proceedings of the ring. 
 
 It was the arrangement, that the masters of 
 the combatants should lead them in pairs to 
 the little enclosure sacred to the man of the 
 book, in order that while one dog was engaged, 
 another might be ready, bristling with excited 
 fury, to take his place in case of overthrow, or 
 when the time allotted for a sinsjle attack should 
 have expired. About an hour after the baiting 
 commenced, the handsome countryman before 
 alluded to, was called into the ring by name, 
 along with another privileged person — his name 
 sounding loyal, as Patrick's companion ob- 
 served, — to wit, John Johnson. With a loud 
 and hearty " Here I am I'' he vaulted over the 
 barrier, showing an agility remarkable in a man 
 of above forty, and then walked towards the 
 secretary, his mastiff led by a chain, witli a step 
 and an air which would have been deemed 
 courtly and gallant in a person of birth and 
 station. Having entered the secretary's stall 
 along with his comrade, he stood close under 
 Patrick's seat, his head upon a level with the 
 palings over which the latter leaned ; but before 
 turning round to face the bull, he offered to 
 
THE LAST BAROxN OF CRANA. 213 
 
 Patrick, and much surprised him by so doing, 
 a secret, smiling, and shrewd glance, and then 
 pulled off his hat and bowed graciously to the 
 young lady at Patrick's side, who, notwith- 
 standing her self-command, and what the crowd 
 called her audacity, blushed to her eyes, and 
 looked confounded at the compliment. His 
 politeness, in both cases, did not seem to be 
 noticed by the multitude, so intent were they 
 in watching the fate of the dog then clinging 
 to the bull. 
 
 That dog was disposed of; John Johnson's 
 comrade hallooed his at the enraged and bleed- 
 ing animal, and John himself was warned to 
 stand prepared for seconding his immediate 
 predecessor. 
 
 " She's a staunch, true-blooded bitch now 
 engaged,"' he remarked, turning to Patrick, 
 " and I need to be in no hurry to loosen the 
 chain from my own mastifTs collar." 
 
 Patrick made the man no answer. In fact, 
 he had noticed his zeal against him during: the 
 contest with the secretary, and not suspecting 
 its quality, as shrewder observers had done, 
 wondered at John Johnson's insolence in daring 
 to address him so familiarly. 
 
 " 'Tis a great pity your own fine hound 
 
214 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 came too late for a tilt to-day, Sir,'' continued 
 Johnson, as innocently as if nothing had hap- 
 pened. 
 
 Still Patrick was silent, and now showed, by 
 his brow, how offended he chose to be. 
 
 " He has the true ould drop in him, I war- 
 rant," pursued his new acquaintance, turning 
 his back upon the ring, and confronting Pa- 
 trick, with his legs widely extended, and his 
 arms folded hard, while the mastiff's chain was 
 held tight in one hand. 
 
 " And you — you. Sir, have the boldness of 
 the devil in you, I think," retorted Patrick. 
 
 " Oh, never mind me ; there is little harm 
 in me at any rate, whatever I may say or do, 
 master; only, of a certainty, I never saw a 
 finer ould Irish stag-hound than the one that 
 jumped after you into the ring awhile ago; 
 and I say again, 'tis a thousand pities he is not 
 allowed to show what he can do against the 
 bull." 
 
 " Mind your own dog and your own busi- 
 ness, friend, or 'tis like that you also may have 
 to complain of losing a chance this bait." 
 
 " How so, Sir ?" asked Johnson, smiling in- 
 credulously, and not changing his position. 
 
 " Were your eyes turned in the direction 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 215 
 
 they ought to be, you need not ask, man; I 
 tell you, that your comrade's dog is down, and 
 that the Mayor, after looking to note how idly 
 you engage yourself here, — and particularly 
 with one whom he loves not, — has loosed his 
 own bitch, and is now slipping her at Sir 
 Bull." 
 
 " Ay, do you tell me so ?" said Johnson, at 
 last turning slowly round : " 'Tis the truth, as 
 I am a sinner. — Hollo, Mr. Mayor ! what is 
 your Worship pleased to be about ? Sure, my 
 turn is come now." 
 
 " It was your turn," answered the Mayor, 
 from his place of high estate, — ^* it luas your 
 turn some minutes ago ; but you have permitted 
 the time to pass without loosening your dog, 
 and that gives me my turn, to your discredit 
 for the day." 
 
 '' But is this good bull- ring law, please your 
 Worship ?" remonstrated Johnson ; " sure it 
 was not in the proclamations, Mr. Mayor .^" 
 
 " 'Tis good bull-ring law, notwithstanding. 
 Sir Idler. So, halloo, Maud, dearee !" and 
 at these words ^Ir. ^layor let go his bitch of 
 the atrocious countenance, and with one bound 
 she gained the ring, and with another the bull. 
 Shouts of applause at their Mayor's decision. 
 
216 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 and at the gallant attack of his favourite, burst 
 from the spectators ; while John Johnson raised 
 his hands and shrugged his shoulders, seem- 
 ingly in patient resignation to a sentence, 
 from which, according to the trumpeter, there 
 was no appeal. 
 
 " You foretold my luck, of a certainty, Sir," 
 he resumed to Patrick. 
 
 " And after all your brass-faced hardihood 
 towards me, since you came hither, and before 
 you came hither, will you tamely bow to the 
 hard judgment passed upon you F" demanded 
 Patrick, now inclined, while he scolded him, to 
 take the man's part : first, because his case of 
 grievance resembled his own ; second, because 
 he suspected that the Mayor had thus punished 
 him, chiefly in consequence of having observed 
 Johnson in seemingly familiar intercourse with 
 a detested person, — namely, Patrick's self. 
 
 " Why, you see. Sir, this much was in the 
 proclamation, of a certainty, — that if any dog 
 runs at Sir Bull against rules, he is to be dealt 
 with, even to extremity — to the death, may- 
 hap," replied Johnson. 
 
 " Pshaw ! they durst not harm a hair of 
 your dog's tail," continued Patrick, — '' nor of 
 mine either, if I choose to slip him." 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 217 
 
 " But you would not slip him, of a certainty, 
 on the risk, Sir ?" 
 
 " Would I not ?"''* Patrick's eye kindled as 
 he glanced towards the bull, and he stooped 
 and engaged himself with Brann's collar. At 
 Maud's first onset, she attempted, with con- 
 summate instinct, to seize the bull's lip; the 
 only grip, could she have taken it, which, as is 
 known, can quell the animal's spirit. By a 
 sudden jerk of his head, he baffled her, and for 
 her own safety she was then prompted to fasten 
 on him as she could, and accordingly made sure 
 of one of his ears. Thus tortured, the poor 
 bull, unable to use his horns, strove to shake 
 her off by tossing his head from side to side, 
 or to cast her under his hoofs and trample on 
 her ; but he strove in vain. And this v^Tetched 
 struggle had been going on between them 
 during Patrick's and Johnson's resumed dis- 
 course, until, just as Patrick spoke the last 
 words, Maud was flung off by her indignant 
 foe, — not without carrying her own token of 
 his ear with her, however, — and fell a heavy 
 fall, nearly at the foot of the 3Iayor's throne, 
 and for a moment lay motionless. 
 
 *' Would I not ?^ vauntingly demanded 
 Patrick. 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
218 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 " I do not advise you," said Johnson gravely. 
 
 " Ay, by my namesake Saint and IrelandV. 
 patron, but I will, though, Sir ! And since you 
 want the courage, see out this question of both 
 our rights, my master. "" 
 
 *' Do not," exhorted his new friend. 
 
 '' Do not," whispered his fair protectress 
 gravely. 
 
 " Nay, but lady fair, you did not so admo- 
 nish me a while ago ; and now I say, with Mr. 
 Mayor, 'tis too late to preach me up patience," 
 replied Patrick, nothing but his hand now hold- 
 ing down the impatient Brann. 
 
 '' She is not worsted, my beauty is not, and 
 comes to herself within time !" cried the Mayor, 
 who with his sheriffs had descended to com- 
 fort jNIaud ; " and so, she is entitled to have her 
 turn out. To him again, pet !" and he encou- 
 raged her with a preparatory and affectionate 
 chuck under the chin. 
 
 " Not before her master !" exclaimed Patrick. 
 ^' Up and off, Brann, you Irishman !'^ 
 
 " Still I say do not, Patrick O'Burke," again 
 said the young lady, gently touching Patrick's 
 shoulder ; but this new warning, though it 
 startled him, came indeed too late, for Brann 
 had bounded into the ring. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 219 
 
 '' Holy Mother, Madam ! you know me ?'' 
 Patrick began to inquire, but what ensued left 
 him no farther time for asking questions or re- 
 ceiving answers. 
 
 The Mayor had caught a glance of his pro- 
 ceedings just before he released his hound, and 
 bellowing forth, "What's to do now! — the 
 rules broken through by an unentered dog ? 
 Punish him, Maud ! pay him ! give him his 
 fairing!" he let loose his bitch at her well- 
 knoAvn foe of the previous day. It was at the 
 same instant that Patrick gave Brann his part- 
 ing exhortation ; the animals, rushing in nearly 
 opposite directions, encountered each other in a 
 shock. Without a snap at either side, the mere 
 weight and gravity of Brann sent INIaud rolling 
 on the stones, and instantly taking advantage 
 of her exposed condition, he returned her the 
 caress in the throat with which she had obliged 
 him about the same hour the day before ; and 
 keeping her down with his paws, and by virtue 
 of his tenfold strength, strove as hard for a hon- 
 bouche of her " sweet body"' as ever she had 
 striven for one of his. The Mayor of Bull-ring, 
 suspecting how the battle would go, hastened 
 with his officers great and small to part the com- 
 batants, at the same time calling authoritativelv 
 t.2 
 
220 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 upon Patrick to take away " his hound of hell!" 
 Patrick, however, did not stir, and a few se- 
 conds more decided the contest. Ere he quite 
 gained the dogs, the Mayor heard Maud utter 
 for the first time in her life growling admissions 
 of inconvenience, and saw Brann's long jaws 
 making short gnawing snaps without parting his 
 teeth ; and at John Gernon's next step, Brann 
 bounded away from his unhappy victim, fling- 
 ing something out of his mouth, as if in detes- 
 tation, although in rage and triumph. " My 
 poor Maud, is that the way with you at last ?^' 
 inquired John, standing over her. She answer- 
 ed him by one horribly-loving glare of her 
 unlovely eyes, rolled from her back to her side, 
 and was very dead. 
 
 This seemed enough, and more than enough, 
 to arouse the utmost wrath of her disconsolate 
 master against her destroyer and his owner. 
 But turning to look for Brann, the Mayor saw 
 him in the act of perpetrating if possible a more 
 deadly offence —achieving the very feat which 
 the late Maud had failed in accomplishing : 
 in fact, Brann was fast in the bulFs lip, and the 
 lowered head, dropped tail, relaxed frame, closing 
 eye, and even low cries of the fine animal, told 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 221 
 
 the fact, and the strange and to us unaccounta- 
 ble fact, that under this seemingly slight injury, 
 his wrath, his courage, his strength, his very 
 nature, had abandoned him. 
 
 The moment he beheld the sight, John Ger- 
 non snatched his ponderous and dangerous mace 
 from the mock bailiff who bore it, and crying 
 out, " Kill the curse-o'-God hound ! Upon him, 
 all good men of Bull-ring ! beat out his brains ! 
 crush every bone in his skin V raised the al- 
 most unwieldable weapon over Brann's head, 
 who noticed him not, so intent was he upon Sir 
 BulFs lip. 
 
 " Never while I live, base churl, shall you 
 harm a dog of mine!" was Patrick's mode of 
 objection, in words, to this speech ; his demur, 
 in action, being a spring from where he sat to 
 the side of the incensed Mayor of Bull-ring, 
 with his small sword a second time naked in his 
 hand. But he was spared the necessity of im- 
 mediate exercise of his determined valour. John 
 Johnson anticipated his descent upon John Ger- 
 non by one of his own — although even a stop- 
 watch could scarce have measured his claim to 
 precedency — and while he said, " Tut, tut, your 
 Worship, do not slay one of the last brutes of 
 
S22 THE LAST BARON OP CRANA. 
 
 his kind that we have in the country,*" seized 
 the formidable "mace in its very downward pro- 
 gress upon Brann s unconscious head. 
 
 Gernon, after one unsuccessful though well- 
 meant tug and struggle to free the mace, mea- 
 sured his new opponent with an enraged and 
 courageous glance, and while both still had 
 their straining hands on the — heavy mallet it 
 must be called, croaked out, " Whoever you 
 are, you are strong, ay, and tall too, and a 
 strapping fellow, as it is called ; but will you 
 agree that we fling this mace to the ground, 
 and, while it rests there, try a fall in wrestling 
 with me, to see who shall pick it up — the two 
 best falls out of three to decide the dispute ?'' 
 
 " With all my heart, Mr. Mayor,"" assented 
 Johnson. 
 
 " I doubt you," resumed Gernon, still eye- 
 ing him : " Swear that you mean fair if I loose 
 my hold of the handle of the mace." 
 
 " It needs not that I swear to make you 
 loose your hold, Mr. Mayor, if occasion requir- 
 ed, yet I will do as you ask. See here — " and he 
 suddenly relinquished his grasp of the contested 
 weapon, and rushing past the bull to the mar- 
 ket-cross, took off his hat, bowed his head, bent 
 his knee, laid his hand upon the long-neglected 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 223 
 
 test of good faith, and added, " By this holy 
 and blessed cross ! I will do nought, and at- 
 tempt nought, in the trial between us, but what 
 your own terms prescribe ; that is, wrestle with 
 you for two falls out of three to decide our 
 little dispute." 
 
 " I knew it ! I knew it !'' shouted Gemon ; 
 "another disguised Papist !" the people readily 
 seconding him, indeed beforehand with him, 
 while they witnessed Johnson's old-fashioned 
 form of asserting his honourable intentions, 
 caught up the cant word of the Mayor of Bull- 
 ring, and assailed the self-betrayed Catholic 
 with loud revilings. " And shall I strive with 
 him as with a generous foe ?" demanded Gemon, 
 appealing to the populace ; " shall I foolishly 
 hazard life against the hidden skein of the 
 rebel ?'' This was not faint-heartedness, but a 
 sincere conviction that all Papists were unfair 
 and treacherous adversaries. He was clamor^ 
 ously exhorted by the people not to engage 
 with Johnson, but rather to have him seized 
 and disarmed of his concealed weapons, as the 
 man he abetted was doomed to be deprived of 
 his more evident small-sword. 
 
 " Assist me, then, liege subjects V exclaimed 
 the Mayor of Bull-ring, making a spring upon 
 
224 THE LAST BA-RON OF CRANA. 
 
 the mace which yet lay on the ground. But 
 Johnson again anticipated him, snatching it up 
 before he could touch it, and whirling it, like 
 an hazel-stick, in one hand, round his head, 
 while he stood alone at Patrick O'Burke's side. 
 
 " Rescue your Mayor, men of Bull-ring !" 
 shouted Gemon ; and his sheriffs, bailiffs, trum- 
 peter, drummer, and secretary, rallied around 
 him, in the first instance. But one of the clauses 
 of the proclamation of the legitimate town- 
 crier, for the upholding of good-order that 
 morning, had been, that all visitors of the bull* 
 ring should go thither unarmed; and conse- 
 quently the odds which now faced Patrick and 
 Johnson had but hands, or else unimportant 
 missiles in them, to oppose to the naked small- 
 sword of the one and the well-managed and 
 ominous club of the other. They therefore 
 stood still, even with Gernon at their head, 
 after an ostentatious show of zeal ; and the in- 
 sulted and despised authority of the bull-ring 
 had to extend his appeal to more of his ad- 
 miring subjects outside the barrier. 
 
 " I '11 tell you what we must do now,'' whisper- 
 ed Johnson to Patrick : " I, as well as his Wor^ 
 ship, have a friend or two (working men on my 
 bit of ground) among the crowd ; and for fear of 
 
THE LAST BAROIS OF CRANA. 225 
 
 an unkind reception here to-day, God knows 
 but they may carry something or other about 
 them : so I '11 just whistle for them — the poor 
 fellows know my note, it calls them home to 
 their meals many a time — and when they clear 
 the boards, along with Gernon's cronies, half of 
 them will be at your service (supposing that I 
 give them another hint) in the secretary's stall 
 nigh-hand to you, and half of them at mine in- 
 side his Worship's snug enclosure; and then — 
 but I can say no more, only this — '' whistling — 
 " if you have the wits I think you have, I have 
 said enough — do what you can, at all events." 
 
 From the moment he began to speak, Ger- 
 non's reinforcement tumbled, three and four at 
 a time, over the main barrier, and Johnson was 
 compelled to interrupt himself, as they muster- 
 ed within the ring. He interrupted himself, 
 however, to some purpose. His whistle, as he 
 had modestly premised, was indeed heard and 
 known by his humble friends ; for about ten 
 or twelve men pushed vehemently through the 
 crowd, as it escaped him, gained the arena of 
 battle almost as soon as the allies of the Mayor 
 of Bull-ring, and at first unsuspected for ene- 
 mies against the power that was, continued 
 their violent scramble forward, till they sur* 
 L 5 
 
226 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 rounded John Johnson, even before Gernon had 
 formed a junction with his own new-comers. 
 
 Simultaneously with their movements, two, 
 nay, three, unexpected abettors took the field 
 for Patrick. For many minutes previously he 
 had been almost sure that he heard the half- 
 hoarse, half-screaming, and altogether unearth- 
 ly voice of old Rory Laherty expending itself 
 at the rear of the crowd in unintelligible, 
 though extravagant, outcries ; and that of John 
 Sharpe, issuing from his face, still punctually 
 fixed in its last-described predicament, uttering 
 a variety of authoritative threats, curses, and 
 sarcasms, more audible than the accents of 
 Rory, because he was much nearer to the ring ; 
 both now increased their vociferations to the ut- 
 most, even for them ; exerted all their decaying 
 strength ; and Avhile John Sharp won his way 
 by pompous proclamation of who and what he 
 was, in name, in station, in loyalty, and in ser- 
 vice in the field; and Rory Laherty, by his 
 strange and terrifying cries, clapping his hands, 
 kicking, and even biting, both contrived to 
 clear the barrier and gain Patrick's side, just 
 at the mon?ent, as has been said, that his col- 
 league, Johnson, saw himself encircled by his 
 faithful workmen. And scarcely had Sharpe 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 227 
 
 slapped his new protegee on the shoulder, and 
 Rory jumped up to kiss his cheek, than the 
 provident pair of followers, doubtless having 
 reckoned the chances of the day, produced 
 each a pistol from his pocket. 
 
 It remains to introduce the third unhoped- 
 for ally of Patrick. During all this bustle, the 
 three strangers announced by Kit Holmes, of 
 the King's Arms, had been standing up in their 
 places, evidently interested to an extraordinary 
 degree ; and the gentleman and the more come- 
 ly of the ladies conversed earnestly, and with 
 much animation, together. A moment before 
 the arrival of Johnson's and Patrick's friends, 
 and the mustering of Gernon's near to the out- 
 ward enclosure, their words were as follow : — 
 
 *^ He cannot be sufficiently protected, 
 though—" the lady spoke — "his opponents 
 double, nay, treble his supporters !" 
 
 " And now I see that they do," replied the 
 gentleman ; " and so an end to incognito, even 
 though it cost me something — certain detection, 
 belike, as an armed Papist, in this Northern 
 town, with you to take care of, too, Dorcas, 
 you wild-bird. — No matter ; he has me at his 
 elbow, in the name of old times and old 
 blood !" — And with the encouragement of 
 
228 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 ^* That 's like yourself, Philip !" from the spirited 
 lady, the hitherto cautious gentleman let fall 
 his cumbrous cloak, drew his sword, — a more 
 effective one than Patrick's, — and the next mo- 
 ment was as good as his word ; that is, stand- 
 ing at Patrick's side ; and more than that, 
 shaking his hand, warmly and smilingly. 
 
 *' Baron of Crana !'' said Patrick, in a sup- 
 pressed, though very much surprised tone of 
 voice. 
 
 '' Hush, man !" whispered in turn his old 
 friend ; " for the present, know me only as your 
 seconder against this peevish rabble, and I will 
 tell you why at our leisure." 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 229 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Indeed, farther conversation, distinct from 
 the business to be attended to, was impracti- 
 cable between Patrick and PhiHp of Crana ; 
 for, even while they spoke the few hasty words 
 already noted, John Gernon was eagerly in- 
 structing his subjects in what manner to make 
 a successful onset, and Johnson also interrupted 
 the friends. 
 
 " Do not make any delay, ^Master," he said 
 to Patrick, " in getting yourself, your servants, 
 the new-comer, and the half of my followers, 
 who are already at your side, into the place I 
 told you of. See ! only wait another minute or 
 so, and it will be out of your power to do it," 
 pointing to Gernon 's side of the ring. 
 
 " You speak to the purpose," answered Pa- 
 trick ; he whispered a word to the young 
 Baron, to Rory, and Sharpe, and was imme- 
 
230 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 diately followed by them and the men, over 
 whom the countryman had given him tem- 
 porary command, to the enclosure alluded to. 
 The rush forward seemed to be construed into 
 an attack, in the first instance, by Gernon and 
 his numerous abettors ; for they checked their 
 own motion towards the disturbers of the bull- 
 ring, and steadily awaited the expected assault. 
 But when Patrick only led his band into the 
 well-secured stall of the secretary, and there 
 packed them close, while they presented a se- 
 micircular front, defined by the planks and 
 palings which enclosed them, vexation suc- 
 ceeded to menace upon Gernon's brow, at 
 the gaining of this advantage in position over 
 him. 
 
 " Neighbours, there is your stand now," 
 whispered Johnson to the portion of his people, 
 who remained at his side. He pointed to the 
 second interior barrier round the seats of the 
 Mayor and Sheriffs; he spoke almost before 
 Patrick had secured his own stand ; and ere 
 Gernon could possibly have recovered his seif- 
 possession, after Patrick's manoeuvre, he saw 
 these men racing across the ring, like dogs of 
 chase, tumbling themselves into his sanctuary 
 of power and office, and presenting a second 
 
THE LAST BARON OF GRAN A. 231 
 
 curving front, while their aspects were danger- 
 ous, though not much agitated, and each held 
 his right-hand in his bosom, or else under the 
 folds of his heavy outside coat. 
 
 To the surprise of all, of friends and foes, 
 Johnson himself did not, however, move from his 
 place in the ring. He stood quite alone, with- 
 in a few paces of the bull, and the still tenacious 
 Brann, shouldering the Mayor's mace with his 
 right-hand, and letting his left-arm fall tran- 
 quilly at his side. His %ure was upright ; his 
 whole air quiet; he even continued to smile; 
 and yet, no one that looked upon him but felt 
 a strange sense of his superiority. 
 
 " A word before a blow, now. Mayor of 
 Bull-ring," he said, in an even voice, the in- 
 stant the two interior barriers had been occu- 
 pied ; — " And, stop that man !" he continued, 
 more commandingly, pointing to one whom 
 Gernon was sending out of the ring, after some 
 secret instructions. " Stop him ! I advise you ; 
 send no messaf^je to brinf^f down red-coats on us 
 here, or you may rue it !" The emissary stood 
 still of his own accord. — " Look ! Master Pa- 
 trick O'Burke, his servants, and the strange 
 gentleman at his elbow, are well armed ; so am 
 I, and yourself will not deny as much, Mr. 
 
232 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 Mayor :" he smiled again, waving the mace 
 round his head. " You don't know, of a cer- 
 tainty, and how can I tell, what my own poor 
 fellows — being in fear of their Papist lives at 
 this loyal bull-baiting — may be touching the 
 present moment with the tips of their fingers ; 
 so, your Worship sees, that if you do send for 
 the soldiers, there is like to be blood lost before 
 they can arrive, and none of it at our side ; 
 nay, even suppose them on the ground, who 
 can tell, I ask again, at w^hich side the most 
 may be let loose, after all ?" 
 
 " Is this to be borne ?" cried Gernon : — 
 " Good lads of Bull-ring, shall we bear it ? 
 Braved and bearded on our ground, upon our 
 own day, by a handful of scurvy rebels ? The 
 bachelor boys ! — the bachelors ! as I have bid 
 you,"— turning to the hesitating courier, — 
 " Ay, and before they come, mayhap it may 
 be shown that we can do without them. Care 
 not for a Papist sword or two, men, or for a 
 Papist bullet." 
 
 " Papist bullet ! ye speak a lie there, John- 
 ny, dearee," interrupted John Sharpe. 
 
 '^ Tear up the street stones, — tear down the 
 stakes and boards, — any thing, I say — any 
 thing !" 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 233 
 
 " Keep silence !" roared Johnson, as the ex- 
 cited mob shouted fiercely in reply. 
 
 *' And upon that fellow first,'" resumed Ger- 
 non, pointing to him. 
 
 "Ay?" questioned Johnson, stepping quick- 
 ly behind the bull, and drawing a large clasp- 
 knife, " will ye, so ? Look here I I do not stand 
 alone in this open ring — 1 have a good second- 
 er. Tear up one stone, or tear down one stave, 
 and, by the blessed cross ! — (I swear that oath 
 again, to please ye) — I will cut the bulFs rope, 
 keeping safe behind him — and as he will run 
 ahead of a certainty, straight upon his own 
 Mayor and liege subjects, and as I can escape, 
 meantime, to one or other party of my friends, 
 then must ye all have something to do, without 
 minding us, till ye have slit liis throat or pulled 
 out his horns !" 
 
 The courage of the assaulters was much af- 
 fected by this threat. They stood still, looking 
 at each other, or whispering, and there was 
 comparative silence, which John Sharpe broke 
 by one of his laughs, while he addressed Johnson 
 in intended eulogy and approbation — " Ugh, 
 hu! — jewel you are, mon ; pet you are; and 
 it 's your notion, I like, lad ; troth, jest.'' 
 
 " Shame on you, old John Sharpe, to stand 
 
234 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 there, armed against good and loyal people, by 
 the side of Papists,"" said Gernon, now once 
 more coolly, and as if loss of time had become 
 an advantage to him rather than a grievance. 
 
 " You said that afore, or a thing like it, 
 dearee," answered Sharpe ; "and, upon the same, 
 I gave a bit o* my mind til you ; and now I 
 say til you agin, there is na Papistry here to 
 arm for, but crying wrong, the whilk must have 
 justice; troth, ay." 
 
 " And do ye not yet know, Sharpe, although 
 you had the time to learn since yesterday, that 
 Papists, with arms in their hands, even if they 
 commit no other crime, are traitors against the 
 law .^" 
 
 " No, hinny ; not even since yasterday have 
 I learnt as much ; and I dinna think that your 
 ain sel learnt it in your yesterday's lesson, 
 dearee." 
 
 " Though you may learn it to-day, by hea- 
 vens!" retorted Gernon, glancing over the 
 heads of the crowd towards that quarter of the 
 town which contained the barracks. 
 
 " Get awa' wi ye, ye deevil's darling !" ex- 
 claimed Sharpe, losing all temper, though such 
 an accident was rare with him, at the same time 
 that he hastily removed his pipe from between 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 235 
 
 his teeth, for the first time in the memory of 
 his friends — " What bully's words are these ? — 
 Papists! — show me ae Papist fit to hauld a 
 candle til ye, for deevilry, and all manner of 
 raugues ways, or to any mon that taks your 
 part, and I will shun him as I would an east 
 wind. — Papists ! — by the pipe, as good a race 
 never cam o' your ain blood, Johnny, nathless 
 that it is a new thaught that you put into my 
 head — and you talk, do ye, and scare us wi' 
 disarming, and fining, and banishing, and what 
 not, do ye ? — and my guid master's child — for 
 a child he is til him — is to be treated in this 
 fashion ? He is, is he ? Then hear what I tell 
 you, Johnny Gernon — as sure as you, or any 
 mon for ye, does this injustice, in the name o' 
 Protestanteesm, so sure I, John Sharpe, will for- 
 swear ye a\ root and branch, and go til the 
 mass-house, itsel, with Master Patrick, the next 
 sabbath at morn." 
 
 This self-important threat, from which may 
 be deduced the essence of John Sharpe's reli- 
 gious rancour at all times, produced a laugh 
 from the crowd, in which Gernon contemptu- 
 ously joined, while he again glanced up the 
 street of the town. Johnson, who had been at- 
 tentively watching him, spoke. 
 
236 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 " I know why you look over your shoulder, 
 Mr. Mayor, and why you would now gain time, 
 without either trying your strength on us, or 
 letting us go our ways in peace. But have a 
 care of yourself, man : you are the peace-breaker 
 here. Your bull-ring law is no law of the land, 
 and the young gentleman who disregarded it 
 by slipping his hound at the bull, never gave 
 you warrant, thereby, to raise your mace over 
 the poor brute's head. And if it is against the 
 law for Papists to go armed, lawful authority 
 alone, under the sign-manual of a magistrate, 
 is sufficient to disarm them. Wherefore listen 
 to plain and good advice — Ah, your humble 
 servant, Mr. Miles Pendergast !'' looking up 
 and bowing to a window of the street in which 
 that gentleman suddenly appeared, his face and 
 manner showing much agitation — " You are a 
 loyal Protestant gentleman. Sir, and well known 
 for a just man, ay, and a kind one, and you 
 are come just in time to give judgment on what 
 I say." 
 
 " You need not tell me a long story, friend," 
 said Pendergast ; " I have heard true account of 
 that which has happened here, and I come to 
 intreat or command all of my family, who hear 
 me, to hasten to my peaceable home by my 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 237 
 
 side, and to exhort any who would detain 
 them, that by so doing the laws of the land 
 must be outraged instead of being upheld ; 
 moreover, for the content of very loyal minds, 
 I pledge my word, that no Catholic over whom 
 I possess influence or power shall from this 
 day go armed." 
 
 "And I was only going to say, under cor- 
 rection of your opinion, words much like the 
 words you have said, Sir," resumed Johnson ; 
 " vdth this little addition only, that if John 
 Gernon and his mob now refuse free departure 
 to any man or woman who may choose to leave 
 this ring, it will lie at his o^vn peril." 
 
 " Doubtless," agreed Pendergast, contemplat- 
 ing the legal liability only, and not suspecting 
 Johnson's hidden threat. 
 
 " Mr. Miles Pendergast," Gernon began, very 
 unwilling to forego a public revenge on his o\vn 
 ground, for what he thought many and great 
 provocations ; but Pendergast stopped him. 
 
 " Silence, Gernon ! and keep the King's peace 
 here — here, where, from your holiday popu- 
 larity, you are heavily responsible. — And you, 
 Patrick O'Burke, leave that place you stand in, 
 and pass over the seats at your back, to meet 
 me in the street. — As for you, Laherty, and you, 
 
238 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 Sharpe, make your own way as you can, and 
 face me when you dare for this disobedience. — 
 Gemon, your objections will be useless ; I have 
 been able, before 1 hastened hither, to stop your 
 bachelors. Sir; so, if you have any wrong to 
 redress, seek it at the hands of the law ;"" and 
 Mr. Pendergast left the window. 
 
 " And perhaps I may,'' muttered Gernon. 
 
 " Brann first !" cried Patrick, joining Johnson. 
 Their united exertions soon disengaged him, 
 though very unwillingly, from the bull. *' Go 
 back now, and meet Miles Pendergast," coun- 
 selled Johnson ; " I stay here to watch you free 
 of the ring, and fear nought for me." 
 
 " But I will remember you,"" answered Pa- 
 trick. He again joined the Baron of Crana. 
 It has been forgotten to be mentioned, that the 
 two ladies under the young nobleman's charge 
 had stepped over the boards before which they 
 sat at the beginning of the disturbance, assisted 
 by him, and stood at the back of the phalanx 
 wedged together in the Sheriffs' stall. 
 
 " Do not return to your inn, at least to rest 
 there," intreated Patrick ; " ^Ir. Pendergast's 
 roof will better protect you ; and you know 
 him, since our first meeting, and may remember 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 239 
 
 that of him which will leave you no dislike of 
 his company, or misgivings of his hospitality." 
 
 Philip of Crana at once adopted this counsel. 
 Patrick led the fair-haired lady (whose scoiF- 
 ing smiles of almost all the passages of the ad- 
 venture had not yet left her lips and eyes) over 
 the planks behind them, much in the same di- 
 rection by which she had approached the ring. 
 Her protector followed with the little " dark 
 ladie." Rory Laherty, moaning at his master's 
 ominous words, and John Sharpe, silent and 
 grim, but chopfallen too, followed in their train, 
 the spectators, through whom they bustled, 
 standing up sullenly to let them pass ; and all 
 soon stood before Mr. Pendergast, who was 
 ready mounted in the street, holding a second 
 horse for Patrick. 
 
 Mr. Pendergast was prepared to meet even 
 Patrick with a severe brow : when, perceiving 
 him in the company of the Baron and his ladies, 
 his looks changed into those of mixed surprise, 
 curiosity, and interest, and he involuntarily held 
 his hat in his hand, and bowed low in his sad- 
 dle, changing his regards from one to another 
 of the strangers. 
 
 " An old friend of our's, Sir,'' said Patrick, 
 
240 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 observing that his patron''s recollections had 
 failed him — "The Baron of Crana/' pointing 
 to that individual who trod close behind. 
 
 Pendergast's features brightened, and with 
 much warmth and urbanity he held out his 
 hand to the young nobleman, as he greeted him. 
 Still his eyes wandered to Patrick's temporary 
 charge, and Patrick made an effort to continue 
 to deport himself as master of the ceremonies. 
 
 " You will excuse me. Madam, but, as I be- 
 lieve I am necessitated to announce you to my 
 respected friend, and my best friend too, I pray 
 you instruct me how it may well be done. Am 
 I to say — ^"^ continued Patrick, his throat swell- 
 ing against the probability, and his heart slight- 
 ly failing him — " am I to say the Baron of 
 Crana's lady .?*" 
 
 The lady, whose hand he still touched, after 
 leading her down the planks, drew back a little 
 way from him, fixed her eyes upon his in good- 
 humoured surprise, and then bent her head to- 
 wards her breast to laugh. 
 
 " My sister, Patrick," said Philip of Crana, 
 who had overheard the roundabout question, 
 and he now advanced with her to Pendergast. 
 " My sister, Lady Dorcas Walshe," he conti- 
 nued, " of whom, if my memory does not fail 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 241 
 
 me, you both have heard me speak, gentlemen, 
 at a certain abstemious breakfast of our's in a 
 wood Southward ; and her friend, much esteem- 
 ed by her and me," he went on, turning to the 
 second lady, " Mistress Louise Danville." 
 
 After gracious salutations, Pendergast, his 
 eye straying beyond the group, said, " Your 
 excuses, Lady Dorcas, while I speak one neces- 
 sary word, here — So, Laherty, — so, Sharpe, — 
 come forward, foolish men." 
 
 Rory advanced, beginning to clap his hands, 
 and otherwise evincing a deep, true, and yet os- 
 tentatious sorrow ; John Sharpe, with a slightly 
 bravading air, under which, for the sake of in- 
 dependence, he strove to hide some conscientious 
 regrets, and not a little fear of his resolute mas- 
 ter, John held his body and head as erect as if 
 he were on parade, made his hands adhere to 
 his thighs, stepped short and firm, and while 
 his red-selvedged grey eyes sought the ground, 
 sucked his pipe rapidly. " For Master O 'Burke, 
 on account of his youth, and because T but 
 lightly warned him against this adventure at 
 my leaving home this morning, there may be 
 some excuse," continued Mr. Pendergast : " but 
 for ye, men, both stricken in years, if not ma- 
 tured in prudence, and to whom I gave the 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
242 THE LAST BARON OK GHANA. 
 
 Strictest charge to guard your young master 
 against all future rencontre with Gernon — for 
 ye, what shall be said— or what have ye to say, 
 or to attempt to say, for yourselves ?" 
 
 "Just naething, so please your Honour, have I 
 to say for myseF," answered Sharpe,only irked for 
 the moment at the inconsiderable and extraneous 
 chance of being thus arraigned by Rory Laherty's 
 side, and, as it were, placed upon his level, as well 
 in personal importance as in the commission of 
 crime. — "Just naething, only this — that I never 
 gave the lad encouragement to betake him til 
 the bull-ring, nor even knew of his so doing, 
 till after he had left us ; and then it seemed til 
 me ae duty I owed you and him to trudge after 
 him, and save him, as, under God, has been 
 done, from the dangers he might encounter in 
 an unprotected state ; troth, jest, your Honour/" 
 "You, Rory ?"' questioned Pendergast, scarce 
 able to suppress the smile which John's sturdy 
 and yet crafty defence provoked on the features 
 of all the other hearers, except Mistress Louise. 
 But Rory would answer nothing, only hasten, 
 by unaccented laments and strange gestures, to 
 abandon himself to despair. 
 
 " I can say the same for that afflicted crea- 
 ture whilk I have said for my ain sel'," resumed 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 243 
 
 Sharpe, his contempt of his humble brother 
 becoming lost in his notions of patronizing him. 
 
 Patrick assured Mr. Pendergast that Sharpe 
 had spoken truly ; that he had communicated 
 his intention of visiting the bull-ring neither to 
 him nor to Rory Laherty ; that no one could 
 be more surprised than he himself was to disco- 
 ver them among the crowd ; and he submitted 
 that their devoted anxiety in following him, to 
 guard him, as John Sharpe had said, against 
 danger, merited the approbation rather than the 
 anger of their kind master. " My sins be upon 
 my own head. Sir, but forgive my excellent 
 protectors," continued Patrick. 
 
 They accordingly obtained their pardon, 
 though with a shake of Pendergast's head which 
 hinted doubt of the past and the present, and 
 a reservation for the future. A few words from 
 Patrick then gave his patron to understand the 
 claim on his hospitality preferred by Philip of 
 Crana, at which Mr. Pendergast expressed the 
 pleasure he really felt ; agreeing with Patrick 
 that, after what had occurred in the bull-ring, 
 it would indeed be better for the strangers to 
 accept the shelter of his roof in preference to 
 that of the " King's Arms." And in order to 
 save even all the moments possible, Sharpe and 
 M 2 
 
244 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 Rory were dispatched at utmost speed to pay 
 Mr. Kit Holmes for the entertainment he had 
 abeady afforded to his " great man from foreign 
 parts, with two ladies of his family," and to 
 stand prepared at the inn-door with their horses, 
 in order that they might mount and make for 
 Pendergast Hall immediately upon gaining the 
 loyal caravansary, after slowly walking up a 
 steep street which led to it. 
 
 Having alighted from his horse, Mr. Pender- 
 gasfs offer of his arm to Lady Dorcas Walshe 
 was accepted, while he slung his bridle over the 
 other. Imitating him, Patrick proffered a si- 
 milar politeness to Mistress Louise Danville. 
 She stepped back, curtsied low, and seemed to 
 decline the civility with an expression which was 
 partly one of pride, partly that of embarrassed 
 inexperience. When Philip Walshe addressed 
 a few cheerful words to her, however, also ten- 
 dering his arm, she no longer objected, but, 
 supported by a gentleman at either side, fol- 
 lowed Lady Dorcas and Mr. Pendergast up the 
 street. 
 
 *' And now, O'Burke," said the Baron, " our 
 amiable friend between us will excuse us a ques- 
 tion and answer or so, for the sake of old times. 
 — Will you not, Louise ?'' he demanded of her in 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 245 
 
 French. She bowed her head, and sighed, in a 
 kind of constrained humility. 
 
 " To begin, then, Patrick, you and Brann 
 have thriven apace, since last I met you, in this 
 Protestant air, upon heretical drink, (something 
 better, I hope, than we had at breakfast once 
 on a time,) and heretical viands." 
 
 '' Would you have us never be a man and a 
 dog.'^'" said Patrick, echoing the good-humour 
 in which he was accosted. 
 
 " No ; provided that you had imbibed good 
 rosy-faced Catholic bumpers, eaten prime Ca- 
 tholic venison and smaller game ; and that 
 Brann had fared on the crumbs of your table, 
 while both inhaled orthodox Catholic breezes, 
 and ran free over Catholic meadows and hill- 
 sides."" 
 
 " Then you pronounce us miracles of man 
 and dog for our opportunities : but having such 
 a disrelish for our climate, our earth's surface, 
 and the dinner you get to-day, why are you 
 found amongst us. Baron?" 
 
 " Ask the winds, or rather the whirlwinds, 
 and the waves, or rather the mountains of salt- 
 water, which, without constdting us, sent Dor- 
 cas, her sweet friend, and myself into one of 
 your iron-ribbed Northern ports, instead of suf- 
 
246 THE LAST EARON OF CRANA. 
 
 fering us to land upon the sandy carpet of a 
 more Southern cove, Master O'Burke." 
 
 " Wrecked near at hand ?" asked Patrick. 
 
 " Or almost ; and sailing from Spain, whi- 
 ther I had lately gone to convey Dorfas home 
 to her own country." 
 
 " Where Lady Dorcas had rested since our 
 last meeting in my father's wood ?'''' 
 
 "Yes; though I had not purposed that she 
 should stay away so long. But, in little more 
 than a year after I parted you in the South, 
 certain knaves so much occupied my time, and 
 so disagreeably too, that for her own sake I left 
 her where she was, well protected in her con- 
 vent ; and afterwards, until my troubles were 
 over, I had interest to obtain for her as good 
 protection out of it, in the family of a lady of 
 the Spanish court."' 
 
 " Your troubles ? — I grieve to hear that." 
 
 "But need not wonder, if your retired life 
 and loyal company-keeping have informed you 
 of the spirit of the times. You heard me tell 
 to Miles Pendergast, at that breakfast, (still 
 I must undergo a qualm at the remembering 
 it,) the nature of my title to my estate." 
 
 " And remember what I heard. During 
 your father's life, your elder brother, Roger, 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 247 
 
 was outlawed, at Meath. Had he lived after 
 your father, and so stood in nominal possession, 
 but for a day, of your father's estate, it would 
 have become attainted in consequence, and so 
 pass for ever from you and your's: I cannot 
 readily forget facts so like those which make 
 myself a beggar. But he was slain before your 
 father''s death at the battle of Hillsborough, here 
 in the North ; your father, though he fell at the 
 Boyne, fell without having upon him the legal 
 taint cast oii Roger ; and for that reason, died 
 seized of an unconfiscated estate ; and to you, 
 who also escaped law and outlawry, and whose 
 name, if I mistake not, is included in the 
 Limerick Treaty— to you the estate passed ac- 
 cording to the established laws and usages of 
 inheritance." 
 
 " Harangued like a prophet come to judg- 
 ment," resumed Philip of Crana : " Now at- 
 tend. What you have delivered was plain as 
 the blessed light of day ; and in the faces of 
 foes and friends, I took possession, after a short 
 visit to Dorcas in Spain, of the old castle, 
 bowling-green, and acres. But, observe you, 
 there soon started up men who averred the 
 thing was not clear, but, on the contrary, ob- 
 scured and doubtful. My brother Roger did 
 
248 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 not die at Hillsborough, they said, before my 
 father; but rather escaped from that affair to 
 France, a little wounded, and there expired — 
 in truth, they hinted, was hanged for certain 
 mal-practices, some months after the glorious 
 decease of my brave father ; and this, they said, 
 they could prove ; and after burrowing among 
 the paper-lumber of I know not what offices in 
 Dublin and Paris, they cited your friend Philip 
 to a high-trial of the question, in the city first 
 mentioned." 
 
 *' Where you met them ?" demanded Patrick. 
 " Whither I went to meet them, but did not 
 so quickly as you would have it. By some 
 score devices and knaveries, which, I thank my 
 God, I know little of, they contrived to post- 
 pone the trial, from term to term, from year to 
 year, on pretence of being disappointed of cer- 
 tain proof, deemed ready to their hand, when 
 they cited me. But at last the day of battle 
 came; and although, in the outset, they laid 
 down such a story as startled even my own self, 
 by the help of Heaven, good Catholic prayers 
 and plain justice, my advocates talked and 
 swore them down, and I was confirmed in pos- 
 session of my plain right." 
 
 " Well, Baron, notwithstanding the trouble, 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 249 
 
 this will permit you to sit in peace under a 
 roof of your father's for the future, as your 
 worst enemy cannot dream of shaking a judg- 
 ment of so new a date," said Patrick. 
 
 " If one were found base enough to attempt 
 the wrong, Baron of Crana," demanded Mistress 
 Louise Danville, suddenly looking up into his 
 face — " would he still be allowed to cite you to 
 another trial, and put your title in fresh peril 
 by a show of false evidence ?" She spoke these 
 words in English of good construction, a soft 
 and thick pronunciation solely indicating her 
 foreign tongue. 
 
 " By St. Patrick, and I fear so, Louise r an- 
 swered the Baron; and after his answer, she again 
 bent her head to her breast, and relapsed into 
 her usual silence. 
 
 " But pass we that, piously hoping no such 
 chance is in store for us.* — And now, Patrick, 
 chiefly to apply my long story. You have 
 heard the reasons which kept your sincere 
 friend Philip of Crana from removing his only 
 sister out of Spain till a few weeks ago ; and 
 you will also conceive them, in good faith and 
 kind heart, to be the reasons which hindered 
 him from taking a journey Northward, to visit a 
 young growing giant of his acquaintance. In 
 M 5 
 
250 THE LAST BARON OP CRANA. 
 
 truth, O'Burke, nothing but the fear of not 
 being left a house to bid you welcome to, could 
 have made the long break in our friendship — 
 (is it not friendship, and shall it not be such ?) 
 which must have so much surprised you."*" 
 
 " Grieved me, only," answered Patrick, "but 
 your explanation sets all at rest/^ 
 
 " I will bribe you farther to forgive me, 
 man : I ventured to the bull-bait to-day solely 
 in the hope of chancing upon you there, after 
 missing you at your good protector's house; 
 for, although bent on hiding my face — and my 
 sword too — while passing through your Papist- 
 hating province, I could not be so near the 
 last of the CBurkes without hazarding some- 
 what to take him by the hand, and ask him to 
 come and see me in the old castle we have won, 
 a second time, from confiscation and what 
 not." 
 
 " Came to the bull-bait to-day to meet me at 
 it !" inquired Patrick, in good-humour, and yet 
 recollecting something he had felt, " And why 
 not know me there, when you met me there ?" 
 
 " Very plainly, O'Burke, because I did not 
 see you there during the lapse of time I am 
 sure you now speak of; — you forget, that al- 
 though I wished well to catch a sight of vou, 
 
THE LAST HARON OF CRANA. 251 
 
 under direction, perhaps, of some town-gossip 
 at my side, still it beho-ved me to avoid possible 
 detection, as a Papist wearing a sword, by the 
 acute people of your Northern country ; and in 
 consequence I glanced not towards you as the 
 hero of a bull-ring brawl, until chance showed 
 me your features, (little altered at about twenty, 
 from what they were at fourteen, and I suppose 
 an equality of fortune makes the standing like- 
 ness) upon the verge of the moment that was 
 drawing you into your last difficulty with his 
 Worship, Mr. Mayor." 
 
252 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 At the last words of the Baron of Crana, 
 Pendergast and Lady Dorcas gained the en- 
 trance door of the King's Arms, and their fol- 
 lowers were compelled to end their present dia- 
 logue in consequence. John Sharpe and Rory 
 Laherty appeared ostentatiously liolding the 
 horses of the young Baron and the ladies under 
 his protection, although their proper servants 
 stood near at hand idle for something to do, 
 because they had been deprived of their wonted 
 office by the zeal of the emissaries specially dis- 
 patched to fill it upon this occasion. Yet there 
 was a manifest difference in the energy dis- 
 played by the two temporary grooms. Rory 
 Laherty held and controlled the horse under 
 his care with the self-abandoning devotion of 
 one who might think himself immeasurably ho- 
 noured, if not discharging an agreeable penance, 
 
THE LAST RARON OF CRANA. 253 
 
 in the performance of his imposed duty ; John 
 Sharpe chucked the bridle of his charge, and 
 often spoke high and reprehensively to it, as if 
 he went through a task beneath his rank in the 
 world, and yet Avould faithfully^ speed it, for 
 obedience sake, and love of his master ; and, 
 farther, knew what he was about better than 
 any living creature could tell him. 
 
 The Baron of Crana, his sister, her friend, 
 Pendergast, and Patrick, all now gained their 
 saddles, and moved for Pendergast-hall ; Mr. 
 Christopher Holmes, who had appeared so 
 elated with his visitors, while making his speech 
 at the bull-ring, scarcely coming to his door to 
 bid them a farewell, so much had his altered 
 view of their politics, or of the likelihood of 
 their stopping under his hospit-able roof, or 
 perhaps both views together, modified his pro- 
 fessional interest in their regard. 
 
 A short time after the arrival of the party at 
 Pendergast's mansion, they sat down to an 
 abundant, though, in consequence of the short 
 notice received by the cook, not an epicurean 
 dinner. 
 
 The table was covered with substantial dishes, 
 and all had taken their places, wlien a rapid 
 and uncertain foot challenged attention outside 
 
254 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 the door, and, unannounced. Father James 
 started into the room. He appeared in his 
 usual, indeed invariable suit of thread-bare 
 brown broad-cloth ; his pale and pursy visage 
 much disturbed since his recent rencontre with 
 the Mayor of Bull-ring and his odious familiar ; 
 his paunch hanging neglectedly under his wide 
 waistcoat ; his whole person slovenly ; his whole 
 air unsettled; and his hands, earnestly rubbing 
 each other, inside and outside, and back again. 
 Stopping short at the door, he advanced with 
 his habitual and unmeaning tender of homage 
 to Mr. Pendergast ; but, at a sidelong glance 
 of the strangers round the board, almost jump- 
 ed, and showed symptoms of outcry, or of re- 
 treat, or of both. 
 
 Philip of Crana recognised him at a look, 
 and strove to give him confidence by a greeting, 
 half jocular, half respectful, and wholly warm. 
 Pendergast and Patrick also addressed words 
 of re-assurance to the fitful priest ; and after 
 much more hesitation, he at last dropped into a 
 seat, and composed himself, in a degree, to be 
 helped to food and drink. 
 
 The conversation at dinner naturally turned 
 upon the events of the day. Pendergast re- 
 quired and received a more circumstantial ac- 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 255 
 
 count of all that had happened at the bull-ring 
 before his arrival than he had been able to ob- 
 tain on his way thither in the streets of the 
 town ; Philip of Crana, his sister, and Patrick, 
 alternately giving him information in their dif- 
 ferent spirit and styles. 
 
 Contrary to his habits, Father James, at the 
 first mention of Gernon and his bitch, lent a 
 greedy ear to the discourse, and with a ter- 
 rified, though now not vague face, glanced 
 from one to another of the speakers, sighed 
 or groaned deeply, turned on his chair, utter- 
 ed ejaculations, and even proposed some ques- 
 tions. 
 
 The matter of the whole relation, which ap- 
 peared peculiarly to interest Mr. Pendergast, 
 was the conduct, seemingly so inconsistent in 
 its beginning and ending, of John Johnson, the 
 farmer. " I should have liked to have seen 
 him," he said. 
 
 "But you did. Sir,'" answered Philip of 
 Crana ; and thereupon added, that the man in 
 question was the same who had somewhat fami- 
 liarly addressed Pendergast, when he appeared 
 at the window. 
 
 " Indeed ! that is still stranger."' 
 
 " But I am glad of the chance ; for you can 
 
256 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 tell us who he is, and I cannot help feeling 
 some admiration of the fellow.'"' 
 
 Pendergast stated that, before the moment 
 he had addressed him, he had never seen John- 
 son to his knowledge in his life ; " And that is 
 what makes him a subject of curiosity to me," 
 he continued : " I do not think so remarkable 
 a man could be my neighbour, even for a short 
 time, without falling under my notice, particu- 
 larly as his actions at the bull-bait, and espe- 
 cially before the market-cross, proclaim a Ca- 
 tholic; and a Catholic farmer, in this Protes- 
 tant county, would be a well-known man. Oh, 
 he cannot belong to us: and then, how and 
 where did he meet me, to know me so well, and 
 give me such a good character ?"" 
 
 " I hope the poor Papist may get home 
 safe,'' observed Lady Dorcas, '*• and that there 
 is no corporation law of the city to punish him 
 for the old-fashioned oath he swore." 
 
 " No, Madam," replied Pendergast ; " there, 
 I am sure, he is free, though I am not so sure 
 that other laws, of more importance than cor- 
 porate ones, may not overtake him on his road 
 homewards, if they do not prevent his leaving 
 the town." 
 
 " Heaven knows there are enough of them, 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 257 
 
 newly made, to do either one thing or the 
 other," said Lady Dorcas. 
 
 " New laws against poor Catholics, please 
 your gracious Ladyship ?" demanded Father 
 James. 
 
 " Against poor and rich, Father." 
 
 " Oh, the Lord keep us ! the Lord pity us ! 
 the Lord have mercy on us !" he groaned, turn- 
 ed up his eyes, and smote his thighs. — " And 
 all since the Treaty, did you say, Madam ?" 
 
 '' All since the Treaty, — the broken Treaty, 
 Sir, — though I have not said so before." 
 
 " And against the poor priests, too ?" 
 
 With a polite gesture of entreaty to Lady 
 Dorcas, Mr. Pendergast answered this question, 
 first entering upon a preamble, however. 
 
 " Good Sir, do me the favour of attending 
 seriously to me ;" he addressed the priest. 
 
 " Doubtless, Mr. Pendergast, — doubtless. 
 Sir," — and Father James bent forward with an 
 interest, indeed gaping interest, joined to his 
 usual show of extreme respect to his patron. 
 
 "■ You have heard recounted what happened 
 to-day in the town, jNIr. James ." 
 
 " I have. Sir,— I have, to my great sorrow." 
 
 " The which places many, if not all, of the 
 persons present, in some danger." 
 
258 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 " Not me — I have done nothing — I was not 
 in the town to-day, of all blessed days in the 
 year. — Let them prove it ! — let them prove it r 
 — his old tremors began to return. 
 
 " Upon no such grounds will i/ou be exposed 
 to inconvenience. Sir ; but, I pray you, still to 
 give me a patient and serious hearing." 
 
 " I will, Mr. Pendergast — I do — God knows 
 I do — He will judge for me — He knows my 
 heart 1" 
 
 " Then, Sir, this is the point. To-morrow 
 morning, if not to-night, I fear we may all ex- 
 pect a visit from some persons deputed by the 
 legal authorities of the city — " 
 
 " Yes, Sir ; — Oh, the Lord look down on us !" 
 
 " These persons may search the house, upon 
 one pretext or another. In that case, they 
 must encounter you, Mr. James — " 
 
 " Me, Sir ? why me, I ask again ? my 
 hands are clear of it — I know nought of it — 
 I—" 
 
 " But I have only said that, in passing 
 through the house, our expected visitors must 
 certainly meet with you, good Sir — '^ 
 
 " No, never : they shall not. I will leave 
 the house ere they come ! — Thanks, worthy 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 259 
 
 patron, for many a year of protection, and for 
 kindness, great kindness, since the hour I cross- 
 ed your threshold — thanks, excellent Sir." He 
 held out his hand timidly, after standing up, 
 and tears ran down his cheeks. Pendergast, 
 with a pitying smile, advanced to him, and ac- 
 cepted his greeting. — " But,""* continued Father 
 James, " I shall never stay here to bring down 
 trouble on your head. The laws are made 
 again — the dogs are out again — and I must 
 have a start of them on the mountains — " 
 
 " Mr. James, Mr. James !" interrupted Pen- 
 dergast, " moderate these unnecessary, and in- 
 deed childish transports. Sit down and hear 
 me, and what I had to say — pray sit, Sir.'" He 
 half-forced him into his chair, and continued, 
 " There is no danger threatened to me through 
 you ; none ; and give ear to the reason ; because 
 you are not known as a Catholic clergyman in 
 my house — " 
 
 " Oh, am I not ! am I not !'"* lamented the 
 priest, his accusing thoughts vaguely reverting 
 to Gernon and the scene in the grounds the day 
 before. Pendergast grew alarmed at the man- 
 ner in which he uttered these words, and re- 
 sumed in a graver and more impressive tone : — 
 
260 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 " Assuredly not, Sir, as I know of. If, in- 
 deed, it were noised abroad that I sheltered 
 a Catholic priest — " 
 
 " Oh ! what would they do to you then, 
 Sir ! what would they do to you then ?" 
 
 " I should then certainly lie open to legal 
 pains and penalties, Protestant though I be, 
 Mr. James. — Nay, Sir, I entreat you to hear 
 me speak. The trouble to me I think little of, 
 compared with what you would be liable to in 
 case of detection," Pendergast now continued, 
 in the hope of making the priest's terrors 
 work in favour of a course of conduct he 
 wished him to adopt. " It is high time, Mr. 
 James, that you learn your true situation. 
 Hitherto, it has been hidden from you, out of 
 care for your happiness, and in reliance upon 
 your prudence ; but now know, that ever since 
 the year 1698—" 
 
 " Yes — ay — Oh, God look down upon us ! 
 — 1698 — yes — when was that, Sir ? what year 
 of the Lord was that .^" 
 
 " Ever since then a law of banishment against 
 all men of your religion, in orders, has been 
 passed, and rigorously executed. The said year 
 had not lapsed without seeing four hundred and 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 261 
 
 upwards of your brethren shipped for foreign 
 lands.'' 
 
 *' The poor priests ! the poor hunted priests ! 
 Four hundred and upwards ! The Lord guide 
 them safe across the sea ! God pity them, and 
 us that stay behind them I'"* 
 
 " You that stay behind doubtless require the 
 aid of Heaven to shield you from detection." 
 
 " Yes, Sir, and pray for it every morning, 
 noon, and night, upon our knees ; and for our 
 good protectors, and hiders, and benefactors, 
 beseeching the Lord to grant them, in return, 
 the grace to find out the true way, and the true 
 church — " 
 
 " Mr. James, answer me : do you know what 
 you stand exposed to if discovered to be a priest 
 under my roof, after evading the law of banish- 
 ment .?" 
 
 Father James did not clearly know, but he 
 conjectured some bodily constraint and punish- 
 ment. 
 
 " Death, Sir ! And now, for the last time, 
 pray compel yourself to understand the ten- 
 dency of all this discourse. When the men I 
 spoke of come hither, do your utmost, Mr. 
 James, to appear before thiem with a calm and 
 
262 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 confident bearing : speak not till you are spoken 
 to ; control your groans and mutterings, and 
 other signs of your great inward trouble. 
 Above all things, in preparation for their call 
 to-night, stir not from our table here to expose 
 yourself to a rencontre with them in your soli- 
 tary room ; only, if you have left there any 
 sure proof of your profession, hasten up-stairs 
 this moment, return to us with the tokens, 
 whatever they may be, and give them to Pa- 
 trick O'Burke, that he may securely hide them.*" 
 
 " I will. Sir, I will ! may Heaven reward 
 you ! I will — there is, first, my precious pa- 
 pers—oh, Patrick, Patrick, take good care of 
 them ! — second, my brev — no ! no ! no ! not 
 my breviary ! — and where is that ! oh, where is 
 that !" He was running out of the room, 
 searching his pockets. 
 
 " Stop, Sir, if it please you,"" cried Pender- 
 gast. The priest became fixed to the door- 
 jamb. " Have you lost the book you speak 
 of?" 
 
 " Oh, I trust in the Lord, no. Sir !" 
 
 " Nor, Mr. James, have you cause to 
 fear that any person suspects your hidden call- 
 
 " The Lord help me, I hope not, Sir ! Oh, 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 263 
 
 how could it happen, Mr. Pendergast ? how, 
 Sir, how ? Oh, where is my breviary ?" and 
 he left the room. 
 
 " You, Patrick, do you doubt your poor 
 tutor may have discovered of himself.^" resum- 
 ed Pendergast. 
 
 Patrick could say nothing on the subject. 
 
 '* And so. Sir, you do expect a few visitors 
 this evening ?" asked the Baron of Crana. Pen- 
 dergast answered, that from the last muttered 
 threat of John Gernon, he made little question 
 of the matter, to-morrow morning at the farthest. 
 
 " I wonder what they will do to us ?'" ques- 
 tioned Lady Dorcas, smiling. Her smile was 
 returned in different expressions round the ta- 
 ble, and silence ensued ; which was broken by 
 a single, firm, and loud knock of a bony knuckle 
 at the parlour-door. " Enter !" cried Mr. 
 Pendergast ; and accordingly John Sharpe step- 
 ped one step inside the door, and then stood 
 perpendicular in the growing twihght. 
 
 " Well, John ?" questioned Mr. Pendergast, 
 after he had remained an instant speechless. 
 
 " Your Honour,'' John began, sucking his 
 " nose comforter''—" I can't exactly tell. Sir, 
 what it may turn out til be; but " he in- 
 terrupted himself to discharge some moisture 
 
264 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 which, smoke-impelled, was curving down the 
 small chamiel in the middle of his nether lip, 
 and he bent his head for the purpose, when, re- 
 collecting the presence he stood in, and the 
 carpet beneath his feet, he became self-admo- 
 nished and checked, by a short grunt which 
 escaped him, and then he took a quick run to 
 the open parlour-window, and there held out 
 his head. His pipe had been necessarily dis- 
 placed for an instant during this process ; when 
 he again fronted his anxious hearers, it was in 
 its old keeping, and, again sucking it with a so- 
 licitude and rapidity, resembling those of a life- 
 preserving surgeon trying to resuscitate a seem- 
 ingly drowned man, he continued — 
 
 " I cannot jest preceesely tell, as I said, what 
 it is like to end in ; nathless,'! think it my duty 
 
 til acquaint your Honour your Honour's 
 
 pardon, a moment, but she 's cross-grained this 
 turn — "" still meaning his pipe, which he a 
 second time paused to inspire with life, by 
 tapping his fore-finger upon the ashes at its 
 mouth — " but, as I was a-going to say til your 
 Honour, I Ve been watching, for the last half- 
 hour awa' wi' ye !" breaking up his narrative 
 
 for the third time, to twitch off a spark which 
 alighted upon the bridge of his nose. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 265 
 
 *' Watching what, this half hour, John 
 Sharpe?" patiently demanded his master, for he 
 knew him, and his habits and practices- 
 
 " Naething mair nor less than a matter of 
 five or sax strange bodies hiding about your 
 Honour's grounds," at last answered Sharpe. 
 
 " Ay ? what mean you by strange bodies?" 
 
 " People not of these parts, I '11 tak' my 
 davy. Sir.'' 
 
 " Not belonging to us, or living on our 
 farms?" 
 
 " Belike, your Honour." 
 
 *^ But resembling men from the city ?" 
 
 " I will not jest eexactly be bound til say, 
 Sir." 
 
 *' And they were hiding — that is, so demean- 
 ing themselves as to seem to shun being seen ?" 
 
 ^' Even sae. Captain Pendergast." 
 
 " Some of the visitors I promised you. 
 Baron," resumed Pendergast, addressing his 
 guest, " sent on before more important persons 
 to guard against escape from the house, per- 
 haps." 
 
 " What are we to do. Sir .^— Fight .^" asked 
 the Baron. 
 
 " Fight, doubtless," answered Sharpe. 
 
 " By no means," answered Pendergast ; " it 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
266 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 will prove as much as we can do to come off 
 well by our utmost civility ; but being in my 
 house an honoured guest, I am sure you will be 
 said by me ; — and first, then, how shall we best 
 dispose of the ladies ?" 
 
 " By letting them stay where they are, to be 
 sure, Mr. Pendergast," answered Lady Dorcas, 
 while she still smiled. 
 
 " Yes,'"* concurred her brother, " even Dorcas 
 and her friend have no fears of a Mayor of 
 Bull-ring changed into his master's — the true 
 town Mayor's baihff, I suppose. — But what 
 do the fellows want ? What will they ask, think 
 you ? our swords, and some shillings to drink 
 our healths and damn the Pope in, I reckon ?" 
 
 '' Amongst other things, i/oiir sword, I think 
 I may safely answer you." 
 
 " Here, then," he cast it on the ground near 
 the door — " since I am not to use it, the scum 
 shall never even demand it of me. — Louise, child, 
 I have a thing to tell you," and leading the seri- 
 ous, but now highly-excited young lady to a 
 remote seat, he began to address her in a light 
 gay strain, which she listened to, and sometimes 
 answered with remarkable energy and interest, 
 often shaking her head, and once or twice sud- 
 denly flashing upon him an upward glance. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 267 
 
 " Lady Dorcas, I grieve for the trouble you 
 are about to be put to in this house, where I 
 deemed you would meet shelter," said Patrick. 
 
 " I call it not trouble. Sir ; on the contrary, 
 I like to study these pleasing little traits of 
 Christian love towards us ; and my chief in- 
 terest still is to learn what under the sun they 
 can purpose to do to us all ? Your sword, along 
 with Philip's, is gone of course, (I believe 
 I foretold it;) but what after that? and, of 
 all things, what to my friend Louise and my- 
 self ?'' 
 
 Pendergast had been whispering John Sharpe, 
 who nodded approvingly and obediently, as his 
 master pointed out at the window towards the 
 wood, in the direction of Rory Laherty's hut. 
 All in the parlour were startled by vehement 
 cries in the hall. 
 
 " The demented creature his ain seF," said 
 John Sharpe. 
 
 " Having been surprised in his dwelling, 
 doubtless," observed Pendergast, " and now es- 
 caped during the seizure of the very things we 
 wanted to hide from notice." 
 
 " Nae, troth," resumed Sharpe, looking 
 out into the hall ; " he has them in a lump in 
 his arms — Hauld your tongue, ye half-savage 
 N 2 • 
 
268 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 mon !" he called out to the gamekeeper, " and 
 come in here til his Honour." 
 
 Rory accordingly ran into the room, carry- 
 ing, wrapped up in the old vestment worn by 
 Father James while saying mass in his hut, 
 the utensils used at the altar during that cere- 
 mony. When prevailed upon to hush his cries, 
 and give a rational explanation of his conduct 
 and terrors, it appeared that, although his 
 dwelling had not yet been invaded, he appre- 
 hended it might be, in consequence of having 
 observed suspicious persons lurking about it ; 
 and therefore, acting upon a foresight which 
 astonished John Sharpe, he had escaped from it 
 with the proofs of concealed Papistry it con- 
 tained, the self-same articles that Mr. Pender- 
 gast had been advising with his steward to 
 have removed to a place of safety, as the for- 
 mer has already hinted. But the most remark- 
 able feature of Rory's story proved upon exa- 
 mination to be this; although he had caught 
 glimpses of full as many strangers on the 
 grounds as John Sharpe had done, they could 
 not both have observed the same men, inas- 
 much as their discoveries took place at the 
 same moment, but at a considerable distance 
 from each other. Mr. Pendergast pronounced 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 269 
 
 it extraordinary that such a number of persons 
 should assemble so near his house, for the pur- 
 pose of making him a legal visit, and not re- 
 main together. Still he supposed they saun- 
 tered about, awaiting the arrival of their accre- 
 dited leader. 
 
 He dispatched Patrick to secrete the burden 
 under which Rory had come laden ; and his 
 protege had scarce left the room, when new 
 matter to be wondered at occurred. A female 
 servant, panting for breath, and pale as a 
 ghost, tottered in with the strange intelligence, 
 that, while discharging some of her duties 
 above-stairs, she had seen a man's foot pro- 
 truded from under her master's bed ; and there 
 was not time to question her closer upon the sub- 
 ject, when horrible outcries resounded throuo-h 
 the house, from that quarter of it inhabited by 
 Father James, at the sanie time that he was heard 
 — all concluded it was he— tumblinc^ and stridinfr, 
 alternately, down-stairs into the hall. The next 
 moment he rushed in amongst the company, 
 quite wild with fright; and his anecdote was, 
 that, in searching for his breviary, he had hap- 
 pened to fling aside the door of a closet, which 
 he seldom opened, and there, with scarce room 
 enough about him to contain a common-sized 
 
270 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 figure of flesh and blood, the Priest averred 
 that he beheld either some one lying in wait to 
 take his life, or else an incarnation of the enemy 
 of man. 
 
 To complete the effect of vague terror begin- 
 ning to be produced by all this, Patrick re-en- 
 tered the apartment, also with a hurried step 
 and an excited visage, fixing his eyes on Mr. 
 Pendergast, who immediately demanded, — 
 " You, too, have encountered your bugbear, 
 O'Burke f' 
 
 " No bugbear to me. Sir ; but I assuredly 
 have met a person concealed in the house." 
 
 " And not called him before us V* 
 
 " No, Mr. Pendergast ; and for reasons 
 which you may soon understand." 
 
 " Upon John Gernon's arrival, I suppose : — 
 Well, then, here he comes at last to relieve all 
 the suspense and doubt he makes us suffer." 
 
 Pendergast advanced to the open window, as 
 the noise of horses, galloping at a distance, 
 reached all in the parlour; and the evening 
 was not yet so dark but he could see a body of 
 mounted men, in military attire, moving at a 
 good rate down the rough hill-road which 
 wound to his house. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 271 
 
 " Now for our beads and paternosters/' 
 said Lady Dorcas to Patrick. 
 
 " It may be more serious play than your 
 Ladyship reckons on," he replied gravely, 
 " Pray, permit me to lead you into this retired 
 chamber." 
 
 " What, Sir ! to find there a second ap- 
 pearance of Father James's incarnate friend ? 
 No, no ; my brother's arm for me, and I be- 
 seech you not to try to affright us with your 
 looks." 
 
 " I cannot communicate what I do not feel, 
 Madam ; but you do not know what I mean," 
 said Patrick. 
 
 " / feel chilly from the open window," ob- 
 served Philip Walshe, giving a slight yawn 
 and shudder — " So, O'Burke, a cup of claret 
 with you."" 
 
 " John approaches us in force," resumed 
 Pendergast, as the horsemen clattered into the 
 outer yard of the mansion ; " and still I won- 
 der, and wonder more than ever, why he should 
 think it necessary so to do, after having dis- 
 patched before himself some score men, from all 
 accounts, to surround us in our fortress, and 
 even invest it, by stealth." 
 
272 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 " These matters may still more surprise you. 
 Sir, when you see them out," said Patrick. 
 
 " Perhaps, O'Burke ; but why do not our 
 visitors come at once into the house ? Oh ! 
 they make themselves at home, and lead their 
 horses to the stables. Well, they are welcome ; 
 and let them have no difficulty in gaining our 
 presence ; let there be no brawling or battering 
 at our gates and doors. — John Sharpe, go you 
 and see that lock and bar offer them no oppo« 
 sition." 
 
 " I am spared a task sae much against my 
 stomach, your Honour," answered John ; " for, 
 without encountering a gainsay, here they be, 
 the deevil's pet-birds. — Ah, Johnny — ah, you 
 dearee !" he continued, accosting Gemon, who 
 entered the parlour while he spoke. 
 
 The Mayor of Bull-ring now exhibited in 
 the trappings of a new character. He wore his 
 full uniform as captain of the company of 
 " Bachelor-boys," over whom, it has been 
 said, he held honoured command ; and well did 
 he become his steel cap, buff jacket, and pon- 
 derous boots. And, notwithstanding the hand- 
 some sword at his hip, and his more official 
 badges of superiority, a sash and gorget, John 
 carried in his hand a carabine, with a bayonet. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 273 
 
 like the privates of his corps, three of whom 
 followed him into the apartment, — evidently, 
 by their looks and manner, three men picked 
 from among their more handicraft and even- 
 tempered fellow-soldiers, to do their captain^s 
 present work well, and as he should like it. 
 
 " A good evening, ]Mr. Miles Pendergast,"" 
 began Gernon, taking no notice of Sharpens 
 taunting salutation ; and while speaking these 
 words, he neither touched his cap nor bowed. 
 
 " Good evening, John," answered the master 
 of the house. 
 
 " I know you are glad to see me. Sir." 
 " I am not much disturbed, John." 
 " Why should you, Mr. Pendergast ; all 
 fair : and as we had a hard trot of it, though 
 the distance is little, do you know. Sir, I feel 
 thirsty ;" and he let his heavy body drop into 
 a seat at the table, his sword and accoutrements 
 ringing bravely, and seized the half-empty cla- 
 ret-bottle which the Baron of Crana had just 
 laid down. With scarce a glance at him, and 
 with a smile, rather than a frown, the young 
 Catholic aristocrat said to Patrick, who sat at 
 his side — " Then, as I was telling you, O'Burke 
 — but let us seek a nook"— and quietly arose, 
 upon this finesse, from the board shared by 
 N 5 
 
274 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 John Gernon, and offered his arm to his sister. 
 The three friends then fell back from the 
 visitors, followed by Mistress Louise ; while 
 Rory Laherty, edged round by the walls towards 
 his foster-son, John Sharpe, remained posted 
 upright at the door, and Mr. Pendergast sought 
 out Father James in the corner the most re- 
 mote from the now palpable objects of his hor- 
 ror, and with a whisper and a touch of his 
 hand, implored him to be prudent, and fear no- 
 thing. In this situation Pendergast faced the 
 open window, Gernon having his back to it, as 
 also had his followers, who stood behind his 
 chair. The window was about a man's full 
 height from a turfy lawn. The eye of the 
 master of the house strayed to it, and he seemed 
 to get a glimpse, for an instant, of a roughly 
 featured face peeping over the lower part of 
 its frame-work into the parlour. When Pen- 
 dergast looked more attentively, however, the 
 vision, or the reality, was gone ; but now he 
 could not be deceived in the fact, that the 
 figures of five or six men hurried across the 
 darkening lawn at some distance from the 
 house. 
 
 Gernon noticed, and no doubt felt, the with- 
 drawing of Philip Walshe from the table. He 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 275 
 
 followed the motions of the haughty young 
 nobleman with a staring eye and compressed 
 lips. Then, however, he seemed disposed to 
 pay him back, for the moment, some of his own 
 cool indifference ; for he also smiled before he 
 raised a bumper of the claret to his lips, and 
 when he had drunk it off, he pronounced it 
 good, with a smack, and filling his glass again, 
 handed it backwards, not turning his head, to 
 one of his comrades, and said — " Try it, Tom, 
 and if you speak well of it to your cronies 
 there, who knows but they may live to taste it 
 in their turn. — Where are you, our worthy 
 host.f^" he continued, looking round the room 
 for Mr. Pendergast — " Oh, yonder, keeping up 
 your poor relation''s spirits: well, and that's 
 as it ought to be ; blood is thicker than water : 
 the gentleman is from far South, I reckon ?'" 
 " Certainly from the South, John." 
 " I thought as much ; and related to you by 
 your own blood, or through your excellent lady 
 deceased, which. Sir ? the report of the country 
 says by your own blood, and yet I don't half 
 believe it." 
 
 " Then you are sagacious, John, as I always 
 deemed you to be ; not by my own blood, 
 assuredly." 
 
276 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 '* See what a guess I had, Mr. Pendergast, 
 as you say. And you call him one ^Ir. James, 
 I am told ?'' 
 
 Scarce able to restrain some vague fancy of 
 the priest from breaking out into words, if not 
 actions, Pendergast answered, " James is his 
 name." 
 
 " I wonder have he and I ever met before to- 
 night. — What ails the gentleman ? is he iU, 
 Sir .^^ as a boding groan escaped the trembling 
 ecclesiastic; "But it grows so dark I cannot 
 discern his features. — Lights, old John Sharpe," 
 he continued, swinging himself round to that 
 person. 
 
 " Lights, dearee .?" questioned John, " lights 
 for ye, and at your bidding ? Yes, ay, to be 
 sure, and why not ? But do ye ken the kind, 
 and the only kind, ye 'U ever get a hand frae 
 me to help ye to ? If not, I 'se tell ye ; I 'd 
 venture ane step, Johnny, inside the gate out 
 of whilk 'tis said there ''s nae return, and ane 
 short run across the het floor o' the same 
 place, just to carry in a fresh-kindled faggot for 
 your comfortable bed, hinny, troth would I ; 
 but till the time comes that I can so far help 
 ye, ye'se have nae chamber-hghts at your plea- 
 sure frae John Sharpe, pet." 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 277 
 
 " Good, John,'' said Gernon, laughing; "good, 
 and like yourself, old crab-apple. — But, Mr. 
 Pendergast, you will order us what we ask for, 
 I am assured." 
 
 " Begone this moment, John Sharpe, and 
 fetch in the things demanded, and with your 
 own hands ; I wish not that another servant 
 enters here, perhaps to create confusion,'" said 
 Pendergast, in a voice not to be disregarded ; 
 and with many mutterings, wrathful and bitter, 
 and with another laugh from Gernon, in which 
 his trusty men joined, the mortified steward was 
 compelled to withdraw. 
 
 A silence took place in the parlour until his 
 return, only broken by a shuffling of Father 
 James's feet in his corner, and by Gernon's au- 
 dible guzzling of one or two more draughts of 
 the wine which he had praised ; and it was now 
 so dark that the faces of the company became 
 indistinct to one another. 
 
278 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 John Sharpe stayed away longer than he 
 needed to have done, supposing the articles he 
 went to fetch arranged to his hand, and his 
 mind and heart willing to hasten back with 
 them, or supposing no unexpected circum- 
 stances to have otherwise engaged him. At 
 last his step was heard, however, in the hall ; 
 light began to stream in through the half-open 
 parlour-door, and he re-appeared, a candle in 
 each hand, but with an expression of counte- 
 nance very different from that expected of it, 
 considering the humour in which he had gone 
 to obey his master's commands. In fact, John's 
 eyes danced gaily, and there was a sneering yet 
 rejoicing smile on his lips, as, laying the candles 
 on the table, he said to Gernon, " There, then, 
 mother's jewel ! there they be for you ; and now 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 279 
 
 see what good they'll do ye; ugh, hu !" Pen- 
 dergast was astonished. 
 
 But, still paying no attention to his irony, 
 Gernon held up one of the lights in his right- 
 hand, shaded his eyes with his left, and glanced, 
 half-closing his eyes, to Father James's corner. 
 The priest appeared turned faceward to the wall, 
 his arms extended over his head, and his legs 
 moving up and down, as if he deemed it possi- 
 ble to escape, by clambering upward, from the 
 dreaded scrutiny of the man of power. It was 
 to assume this position that he had been heard 
 shuffling in the dark. 
 
 '' What ! at your prayers, good Sir ?" asked 
 Gernon, smihng ; " repeating them out of book, 
 eh ?'* Father James could not restrain his 
 groans ; " And you won't let me be sure, by 
 a sight of your face, whether we are old friends 
 or no ? Well, no matter : I think I remember 
 your back ; stay as you are, if you like it, for 
 the present. — Now, to enter on business in a 
 regular method," continued Gernon ; and there- 
 upon he slapped the candlestick heavily on the 
 table, pushed away with both hands the glasses 
 and bottles near him, composed his face, hem- 
 med, and slowly and gravely drew more than 
 one piece of folded parchment from his pocket. 
 
280 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 "Here they come, the terrible scraps of sheep- 
 skin," observed John Sharpe, chuckling; " and 
 sure it's our ain poor sels that shake in our ain 
 skins at the bare sight of 'em/' 
 
 " Keep silence, Sir, unless you have grown 
 stark mad upon the instant," cried Pendergast. 
 
 " Well, and maybe I have ; who knows ? 
 More unlikely things come to pass, your Ho- 
 nour, so 1 will hold my peace ; and why not, 
 to be sure ? Let nae one give interruption to 
 Captain Gernon ; not on ae earthly account ; 
 troth, jest." 
 
 " I find here," said Gernon, in a sonorous, 
 even voice, " warrant from my brother the 
 Guild-mayor of our city, to seize upon the well- 
 limbed and sleek-coated hunting-horse of Mas- 
 ter Patrick CBurke, the same being interdicted 
 to a Papist by Act of Parliament of the pre- 
 sent reign of our pious deliverers King William 
 and Queen Mary, and becoming my property 
 by payment of five pounds to the nominal 
 owner." 
 
 " Five pounds !" screamed Rory Laherty ; 
 " The O'Burke^s own hunter ! he worth five 
 times more as much any fair-day !" 
 
 " Yes, I think he will fetch money," observ- 
 ed Gernon ; " I liked his points passing well as 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 281 
 
 your young master rode down the street this 
 morning to our bull-baiting." 
 
 " Wirra-sthrew ! wirra-sthrew !'' lamented 
 Rory. 
 
 " Keep your wild noises within your ain teeth, 
 ye uncivilized creature," said John Sharpe, 
 *'and let him tell us a' about it;" and he 
 laughed again, still confidently. 
 
 " In this warrant," resumed Gemon, " is a 
 clause, empowering me to demand and obtain 
 the sword which the said Patrick O'Burke wore 
 into town the morning ; as also the sporting- 
 piece which he was seen carrying about Mr. 
 Pendergasf s grounds yesterday." 
 
 " You shall have them," said Patrick ; "there 
 is the first-mentioned;" he flung down his sword. 
 " The second stands in a corner of the hall 
 without." 
 
 "Thanks, master, I have seen it;" John 
 Sharpe again laughed, but said nothing. 
 
 " I told you, I believe," whispered Lady 
 Porcas to her disarmed knight. Patrick smil- 
 ed, and glanced towards a second door almost 
 opposite to that by which Gernon had entered, 
 ere he answered, " He gets it quietly, indeed ;" 
 and he and the lady continued to converse in a 
 low tone together. 
 
282 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 " I find here a farther clause to secure and 
 carry away the piece which Rory Laherty, call- 
 ed gamekeeper to Miles Pendergast, Esq. also 
 appeared abroad with, yesterday,"*' continued 
 Gernon. 
 
 " You shall have that too for the seeking," 
 replied Patrick, raising his hands to still Rory's 
 cries ; " 'tis in his hut in the wood/' 
 
 " Yes ; let him send for it," sneered John 
 Sharpe. 
 
 " Go, Tom, and order one of the men from 
 the hall-door to secure it," commanded Gernon : 
 and Tom withdrew accordingly. 
 
 " To be sure ; go, Tom ; and why not ?" 
 continued Sharpe. 
 
 Pendergast could not at all surmise the 
 nature of the seemingly ill-timed levity of his 
 steward: Patrick, however, whispered to Lady 
 Dorcas — " The old man's embassy for the lights 
 has, I believe, initiated him." 
 
 " Rory Laherty showed a pistol in bull- 
 ring to-day, I will farther thank him for 
 that ;" Gernon went on. 
 
 " Lay it on the table, Rory ; I know it is 
 about you," said Patrick ; and with continued 
 laments Rory obeyed. 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 283 
 
 " Yes — there — lay it on the table, Rory," 
 echoed Sharpe. 
 
 " And, to have done with Rory Laherty — " 
 Gernon now referred to a sealed letter, which 
 he handed to Pendergast— " by reading this, 
 written to your Honour by my brother the 
 Civil Mayor of our good town, you can aid me 
 in my duties of the night." 
 
 " You are no longer my gamekeeper, Rory," 
 said Pendergast, after perusing the official 
 note ; " for here his Worship assuredly reminds 
 me, that by an early statute of the present 
 reign, your religion incapacitates you from 
 holding the situation, either in my service or in 
 that of any other person." 
 
 " The twa-horned deevil !" ejaculated John 
 Sharpe, in generous surprise and wrath at the 
 manifestation of this new legal point, of which 
 he had been ignorant — '' The twa-horned deevil 
 and his mither ! — does your Honour speak the 
 real law in that matter.^" cries of downright 
 anguish meantime escaped Rory. 
 
 Mr. Pendergast assured his steward that 
 there was no doubt of the law of the case, and 
 John's visage now assumed a grim disapproba- 
 tion, and a thoughtfulness, as if he seriously 
 
284 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 debated within himself the question of religi- 
 ous apostacy which he had mooted, in a fit of 
 passion, at the bull-ring. 
 
 Gernon, unmoved in the orderly discharge of 
 his business by any thing done or said around 
 him, proceeded to examine a second piece of 
 parchment, and called out, not raising his head 
 — " Answer to your name, if so you hear me call 
 upon you — Philip Walshe, Baron of Crana r 
 
 " Here, man !'"* and the young Baron turned 
 spiritedly towards his challenger, in surprise, 
 although he had expected some inconvenience 
 from Gernon's visit long before the bully ap- 
 peared. 
 
 " Your sword, please your Baron's Worship." 
 
 " I wear none, fellow: that near your feet 
 was mine, however." 
 
 " Pick it up, Willy; 'tis worth the trouble, if 
 I may judge from the glittering of the handle — 
 does your Nobleness carry any concealed wea- 
 pons .J^" 
 
 " By mine honour, no. Sir," answered Philip 
 Walshe. 
 
 " And your honour is to be our certainty ? 
 um ! — well, let it pass current this turn. Your 
 Honour's servants — who will answer for them .f*" 
 
 " I will, as well as for myself : no servant of 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 285 
 
 mine has carried arms, openly or concealed, 
 since the Limerick Treaty, which denied to 
 them — and ratified to me, and such as me — the 
 use of sword, gun, or pistol, to guard against 
 the outrage of common ruffians." 
 
 " Well ; I credit you in this point too, 
 Baron of Crana; and the more especially as 
 the men are in the house, and can be requested 
 to answer for themselves. — Another question, I 
 pray you. There is a lady travelKng with you, 
 called Mistress Louise Danville ?" 
 
 The young foreigner started into much 
 energy at these words, and emphatically an- 
 swering " Yes !" she advanced a step to the 
 table. 
 
 " A very small and curious poniard, or dag- 
 ger, was observed to fall from your bosom at 
 the door of the King's Arms, as you dismount- 
 ed from your jennet this morning, Mistress,'' 
 pursued Gemon. 
 
 " Well ? well ?"" she demanded in almost 
 breathless haste, while her hand was plunged 
 into the upper folds of her dress. 
 
 " You will not surely deprive the young 
 gentlewoman of that bauble .'" remonstrated 
 Philip of Crana ; — " It was her father's — her 
 dead father's — the last relic of him she has 
 
286 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 been able to obtain, and she but carries it on 
 her person to keep it safe during our rapid 
 journey." 
 
 Her eyes thanked her advocate most elo- 
 quently ; and then fixing a look on Gernon, she 
 said, in a low, deep, firm voice — " With life, I 
 will never part with the little weapon !'' 
 
 " I pray you, good fellow, let us ransom 
 that, at the least," resumed Philip Walshe, ad- 
 vancing and laying money on the table. 
 
 " Yes ; there !" added Louise, while she 
 flung a purse after her protector's offering. 
 
 " Well ; I am never averse to be civil," 
 growled Gernon, removing the gold ; '' and so 
 the poor little French gentlewoman may keep 
 her father's plaything." 
 
 Mistress Louise retired close to her friends, 
 smiling proudly, but her eyes were moist. 
 
 *' To continue our weary task. Baron — (I 
 pray Heaven it may ever end !) — there are the 
 handsome horses belonging to you and the two 
 ladies — your followers may keep their road- 
 hacks for me ; they are worth little more than 
 the unmeaning five pounds ahead decreed by 
 the law to be paid for all horses taken from 
 Papists, if, indeed, they are worth so much ; 
 and I see little loyalty in losing money by any 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 287 
 
 matter of business — but, as I observed, the 
 three pretty jennets ?" 
 
 " Oh, they too may be ransomed, Mr. Mayor," 
 pleaded the Baron, now half-laughingly. 
 
 " No, no, they must needs pass before other 
 eyes than mine — eyes which have taken a fancy 
 to them perhaps ; so your Honourable Baron- 
 ship may as much as count them gone from 
 you, henceforth to be engaged in ambling under 
 more loyal loins than we can reckon your's, or 
 even those of the gracious gentlewoman at your 
 side. — And now, let us see : when you and Mas- 
 ter Patrick O'Burke are after settling with 
 their pious Majesties, King William and Queen 
 Mary, for the amount of Sundays upon which 
 you have not repaired to some church of the 
 religion by law established, to join in public 
 worship, since the passing of the Act obliging 
 all good subjects to do the same — why, when 
 both are after making some such settlement, I 
 deem I shall be empowered to declare myself 
 disengaged from you and him,''' 
 
 Philip Walshe laughed aloud at this new and 
 by him quite unexpected demand on the part 
 of the illustrious sovereigns whose subject he 
 was. He knew, however, of the law under 
 authority of which it was made, and therefore 
 
288 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 only demanded of Gemon, half-ironically, half- 
 jestingly, how he proposed to assess the amount 
 of the fine ; adding, " I think, honest John, we 
 must needs lump it, directed by two virtuous 
 umpires, one of your choosing, one of mine.'' 
 
 " By no means. Baron of Crana," replied 
 Gernon, " as you shall see. Answer me, first, 
 how often in your life have you been at public 
 worship in a church of the established form ?"" 
 
 " Never, credit me, good fellow." 
 
 "I do ; and I warrant your two ladies will 
 make a like answer." 
 
 " Be assured they will, Mr. Bull-necked — 
 Bull-ring Major, I mean." 
 
 " Oh, never heed the slip of the tongue, your 
 Noble Worship, it harms not John Gernon."" 
 He smiled in a way that imported it might 
 harm some one else. — " As to Master O'Burke 
 and his old follower, Jjaherty, I think I may an- 
 swer for them myself, from my own knowledge 
 and observation." 
 
 '' You may indeed, John Gernon," said Pa- 
 trick. 
 
 " Doubtless. Thus, then, stands our account 
 so far. The law obliging all good men and 
 women to repair to church every sabbath-day 
 has been enacted nearly seven years, call it six 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 289 
 
 years, for indulgence sake. Since neither you, 
 Baron, nor your ladies, nor your worthy young 
 crony, and the man that was Mr. Pendergast's 
 gamekeeper, have ever been at church in your 
 lives, you cannot well have been there during 
 the lapse of these six years. The fine for each 
 weekly omission, for each defaulter, is twelve- 
 pence. We count fifty-two weeks in each year, 
 which makes fifty-two shillings, one year's 
 neglect of the statute, incurred by said defaul- 
 ter. Six years' neglect is six times that sum — 
 to wit, three hundred and twelve shillings, or 
 fifteen pounds twelve shillings" — John recurred 
 to a slip of paper on which his calculations had 
 been ready made — " now due to their gracious 
 and pious Majesties at the hands of each law- 
 breaker who at present hears me ; and I am 
 heard and understood by five such, and so five 
 times the fifteen pounds twelve are, in even 
 numbers, seventy-eight pounds; which seventy- 
 eight pounds I claim to have paid unto me 
 forthwith, or by virtue of this warrant," pro- 
 ducing yet another piece of parchment, " it will 
 become my duty to arrest said five defaulters in 
 the King's name, and convey them to his ^la- 
 jesty's prison in our good town, there to abide 
 till it is paid, and all legal expenses, such as 
 VOL. I O 
 
290 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 costs of warrant, gaol fees, bailiffs' fees, and so 
 forth, discharged at same time. — And now, 
 Miles Pendergast," continued Gernon, throw- 
 ing aside the mask of assumed moderation, and 
 thumping the table as he started up — '' you 
 wished me, in bull-ring to-day, to proceed with 
 your friends according to proper authority and 
 warrant — will these do. Sir ?— will these do ?'' 
 huddling his legal instruments together. " Look 
 at them, Sir — look at them, and tell me !"" 
 
 *^ I do not dispute their efficacy, John,'' an- 
 swered Pendergast, glancing over them; "but, 
 good John — " 
 
 " Good John ! — Good hocus-pocus-and-my- 
 nose-in-a-fiddle-case, and the-wind-blcw-off-my- 
 hat !" scoffed Gernon, snapping his fingers, as 
 he used one of the select pieces of slang then 
 in vogue among his " bachelor bo} s." — " Se- 
 venty-eight pounds good and current coin of 
 their blessed Majesties'' realm — that 's the talk ! 
 No flour-de-louce, nor no base doubloons ^mong 
 it ! Set the money on the table before my 
 eyes in less than ten minutes, or to our good 
 stone gaol your Papist cronies go, INIaster Miles i 
 Ten minutes, I say, for I am tired of their evil 
 company, and sick of the rincings of your bad 
 claret ! Meantime, let us be assured that our 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 291 
 
 business is quite sped in your house. — Where 
 is that poor relation of your's, Mr. James, Sir ? 
 Oh, yonder, still at his devotions. Will he not 
 turn to us a moment, even yet .^'''* 
 
 Pendergast abandoned all other considerations 
 rapidly to rejoin the bewildered clergyman, and 
 once more put him on his guard, and urge him 
 to rally his utmost prudence and self-command 
 to meet the coming test. — " Turn, Mr. James, 
 turn, good Sir,"" he began aloud ; then added 
 in a whisper, " Turn, and be a man, or you are 
 lost !" But his words only produced the effect 
 of making the now nearly maniac Father James 
 redouble his groans, and the up-and-down mo- 
 tion of his legs. 
 
 " I see the gentleman will not heed you, even 
 for your whispering, Mr. Pendergast," observ- 
 ed Gernon ; " so stand back, Sir, and let me 
 try my hand. — Good Mr. James, worthy Mr. 
 James,"*' he continued, now close to his abhorring 
 victim, " what troubles you, Sir ? Here is no- 
 thing and nobody you should fear, for you are no 
 concealed Papist, surely ; you are no neglecter 
 of lawful Sabbath- worship. I pray you, show 
 us your features, excellent Mr. James, if only 
 to look approvingly on our evening's work. 
 Do, Sir, we pray you do.'' Gernon laid his hand 
 o2 
 
292 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 gently on his shoulder once or twice. Fathei 
 James at first cringed and shrunk under the 
 touch, then suddenly dropped on his knees, 
 with a sore, sore moan, and put his hands to- 
 gether in prayer, his face still turned close to 
 the wall. — " What, Sir ! you force us to be 
 downright with you, do you ? — Here then, 
 Maud! halloo, Maud!" and he bellowed hor- 
 ridly at Father James's ear, and clapped his 
 hands, well knowing what chord he would jar, 
 although Maud could scarce reply to his invo- 
 cation with her usual promptness. Gernon's 
 finesse had full effect. The clergyman gave 
 one jump upon his feet, another round to his 
 tormenter, and stood upright and chattering 
 before him. 
 
 " Now, Master Priest — now. Master Jesuit, 
 where is your breviary .^" still bellowed Gernon, 
 assuming his fiercest looks. " Would you know 
 it if you saw it!" he continued, pulling it out 
 of his pocket, and thrusting it into the priest's 
 face. 
 
 " You have raised hand to God's minister — 
 be accursed!" suddenly exclaimed Father James, 
 in a tone as loud as Gernon's, and, under all the 
 circumstances, more appalling than his ; and to 
 the increased consternation of all who heard 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 293 
 
 and saw him, the lunatic, summoning his great 
 hidden strength as he spoke these words, raised 
 his own ponderous hand, and with a blow felled 
 the Mayor of Bull-ring to the ground. The 
 next instant, before any one, friend or foe, could 
 stop him, he rushed across the apartment, and 
 shrieking fearfully, hurled himself through the 
 still open window, shattering its glass and 
 frame. 
 
 The gentlemen cried out, and hastened to 
 the window ; the ladies screamed, joined them, 
 and closed their uplifted hands in horror. Ger- 
 non scrambled to get up, commanding his two 
 remaining men (for the person sent to order a 
 comrade to Rory Laherty's hut had hot re- 
 turned) to pursue and seize the fugitive. They 
 went out, and still he strove to arise ; but it 
 now appeared that, in addition to the stunning 
 blow he received from the priest, his temple 
 had sustained a severe wound as he fell, from 
 the leg of the table, and after many efforts he 
 again tumbled, dragging the table and all its 
 glasses ^nd bottles along with him. The con- 
 fused crash caused the company at the window 
 to face round ; and once more, one of the la- 
 dies, Mistress Louise, screamed slightly, and 
 Mr. Pendergast started. The second door of 
 
294 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 the apartment was wide open, a group of strange 
 men stood in the darkness beyond it, and the tall 
 and powerful figure of John Johnson, the far- 
 mer, was motionless over Gernon, watching him. 
 That instant the eye of the prostrate man met 
 his, and after but one glance of utter surprise, 
 John made a spring upward, with the courage 
 and fierceness of his own deceased Maud. 
 
 "It will not avail, Gernon," said the farmer, 
 seizing him round the throat ; " you are my 
 prisoner, and necessitated to deliver me up your 
 arms." 
 
 " That 's my bugbear, Mr. Pendergast," whis- 
 pered Patrick, pointing to Johnson. 
 
 " And here comes a dearee o' mine," said 
 John Sharpe, as a man passed him from the 
 hall. " I will not be preceesely bound to declare 
 which of us this pet frightened awhile ago, 
 in some dark corner of the house," as a second 
 entered. — "Ay, or this jewel, — or this;" two 
 others stepped cautiously by him. — " But yon- 
 der, doubtless, comes the poor Priest's hoofed 
 deevil." One of those who stood in the dark, 
 outside the second door of tlie apartment, en- 
 tered. " And maybe, is seconded now by the 
 leg, and its fellow, to boot, whilk startled a good 
 year of her life out of Jenny, the maid of the 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 295 
 
 chambers." In fact, without any ostentatious 
 display or much noise, more than half-a-dozen 
 of Johnson's followers unceremoniously took 
 possession of the parlour, ranging themselves 
 around that person. They showed no arms, 
 and their features were as quiet as their pro- 
 ceedings. At the entry of each expected 
 friend, John Sharpe laughed excessively — for 
 him. 
 
 All this occurred in a few seconds, during 
 which Johnson and the Captain of the Bach- 
 elor boys did not remain unemployed. The 
 latter struggled desperately ; the former shook 
 his captive as one would shake a boy, making 
 his heavy accoutrements to rattle, and still say- 
 ing — " Of no avail, man — surrender, without 
 another word — I do not wish to do you present 
 bodily injury, but surrender you shall, and 
 must. What would you attempt.^ >our cara- 
 bine lies harmless on the table — your sword lies 
 there — '" suddenly drawing it from its scabbard, 
 flinging it aside, and then returning to John's 
 throat the hand that had been employed in the 
 process — " Come, come. Mayor, Captain, and 
 guardian of bachelors, promise to be tractable, 
 or we must make you be so — Blessed mother ! 
 can you prove so foolish .''" shaking him more 
 
296 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 angrily and furiously than before, in return for 
 a buffet aimed at his face — " Neighbours, rid 
 me of him till I speak to the company : tie 
 him, but do not hurt him." 
 
 " Tie me ! who dares it? What neighbours?" 
 questioned Gernon, rolling his eyes around as 
 the obedient men closed upon him : — " Who be 
 these fellows ? where my own bachelors ?"" 
 
 " Ye sent the last o"* them you had waiting 
 on ye, here, after the Priest, ye ken, hinny," 
 answered Sharp. 
 
 " Boys ! bachelor boys !" vociferated Gernon, 
 now vainly struggling in the clutches of John- 
 son's friends, while Johnson himself stood free 
 of him. 
 
 " They hear you, I little doubt,"** said the 
 farmer, " but, be assured, cannot heed you. 
 Every soul of them has been quietly secured,^ 
 outside the house and in it, by this time." 
 
 " What ?" questioned Sharpe, " even the 
 puir lad sent by the Captain, for Rory's piece, 
 to the hut-wood ?" 
 
 " Even him,"" answered Johnson, and Sharpe 
 was still amused — " So now, Gernon, content 
 you ; and I say again, fear no prcsent hurt 
 from me — in truth, no hurt at any time from 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 297 
 
 me ; you are my prisoner, only that I may send 
 you, well guarded, to a well-built gaol, for high 
 crimes committed against the laws of the land, 
 man." 
 
 " What mean you ?'' demanded Gernon, 
 turning his glaring eyes on Johnson, from the 
 chair on which he now sat, bound with ropes. 
 
 " You shall know, if you do not already sus- 
 pect," replied his captor ; — " Learn, for the 
 time, however it may surprise your ear, that 
 my only or chief business in repairing to-day 
 to your bull- ring, from a good distance South, 
 was to make you the King's prisoner ; and let 
 that information end all present discourse be- 
 tween us." 
 
 John Gernon withdrew his eyes to fix them 
 on the floor, and an expression of perplexity 
 and thouo^htfulness settled on his face. 
 
 " Fair ladies and genteels," resumed John- 
 son, addressing the more important part of the 
 company, " I, and my poor fellows, could not 
 be without hearing whispered this man's inten- 
 tions towards all of you, in your quiet house, 
 at your good dinner this evening ; and there- 
 upon we thought, that while no place could 
 better suit to make sure of him as our pri- 
 o 5 
 
298 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 soner, we might also do ye a little service in 
 the mean time : so, Mr. Miles Pendergast, a 
 gentleman loved in every heart among us, will 
 forgive our trespass upon his grounds in the 
 twilight, as also our contriving to bestow our- 
 selves, here and there under his roof, for the 
 more securely effecting our good and lawful 
 purposes. And now, before we go, attended 
 by this John Gernon — for indeed we are in 
 haste, as ye may conclude, and bound to be far 
 beyond the interference of the framers of these 
 warrants'"* — taking them up and tearing them- — 
 " ere daybreak — before we go, I say, I v\^ish to 
 show any farther little service in my power to 
 Mr. Pendergast, his adopted child, Master 
 Patrick O'Burke, and the other gentlemen and 
 ladies, his seeming friends, although strangers 
 to me : here lie two small-swords — which is 
 your's, CBurke's last son ?'"* 
 
 Patrick pointed it out. "" Take it back, 
 then, from my hand, in token of my honour for 
 the memory of your father, and of love for your- 
 self : — and this must be your friend's — let him 
 receive it from ?/oii)' hand. 
 
 *' Hold, Patrick !" said Pendergast — " and 
 vou will excuse me, Mr. Johnson, since, as 1 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 299 
 
 can learn, such is ^our name. The swords 
 have been surrendered to the warrant of the 
 law, and must not again be touched by us 
 without a breach of the law. 'Tis afflicting, 
 doubtless, to see gentlemen thus disarmed ; and 
 had it happened upon Gernon's own violence, I 
 myself would have resisted his endeavours at 
 the time, and I would now encourage my friends 
 to accept the weapons from you, and be thank- 
 ful accordingly. But, as matters stand, we are 
 bound to decline your courtesy, and submit to 
 legal enactment. — Patrick, do not handle your 
 sword — and you, my friend, I entreat you do 
 not," to Philip Walshe. 
 
 Patrick bowed obediently, and the Baron 
 shrugged his shoulders, and turned on his heel. 
 
 " Well ; I approve your caution, INIr. Pen- 
 dergast^" said Johnson, " and it has sense and 
 foresight in it, for your own sake, as well as 
 for those you exhort to proper submission to 
 the law of the land. And 1 honour the law of 
 the land as much as any man, the which let my 
 proceedings of this evening witness. Where- 
 fore the pretty swords may lie where I found 
 them." 
 
 "• Thanks," resumed Pendergast — '' and 1 
 
300 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 request of you to hear me furthermore. In 
 making a prisoner of John Gernon, you act 
 upon your own discretion, and doubtless well 
 know what you are doing, Mr. Johnson. For 
 us, we have nought to do in the matter — we 
 dreamed not of hindering a deputy of the civil 
 power in the discharge of his duties, — we offer- 
 ed him no hindrance — we gave, and we give 
 you no aid or abetting, and we pray of you 
 and of him to observe the same, now and here- 
 after." 
 
 " I promise faithfully for myself, Mr. Pen- 
 dergast : as to my prisoner, he is scarce to be 
 depended upon, either as a good witness in the 
 time to come, or even as one whom it may be 
 possible to command, after his commitment to 
 gaol at my hands. — But I think the matter may 
 be made surer for you. Bring in two of the 
 bold bachelors,"" he continued, speaking in a 
 loud tone, towards the hall ; and some of his 
 own men accordingly led in the witnesses re- 
 quired : " Now, please to repeat your last words, 
 Mr. Pendergast — '' that gentleman did so — 
 " Ye hear, ranting lads of single lives and of 
 city courage, and ye will bear evidence to what 
 ye hear, when ye get safe home again : and ye 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 301 
 
 may add to Mr. Pendergast's disavowal, a word 
 from me and from my tenants and helpers ; — we 
 admit the not having received any aiding or abet- 
 ting in this house ; we admit the not having 
 asked it, either; nay, we admit, that what we 
 have done, and what we mean to do, has been, 
 and is and must be, in despite of the owner of 
 the house, his friends, and servants, as much as 
 in despite of your captain, of ye, and of your 
 comrades — so take them out again :" his new 
 orders were obeyed — " And now, Mr. Pender- 
 gast, and fair ladies and gentlemen, still I en- 
 treat to know if there remains no little matter 
 in which I may do you a last service ?"" 
 
 " We thank you, no. Sir," answered Pender- 
 gast. 
 
 " We thank ye, yes, friend — asking his Ho- 
 nour''s pardon," contradicted John Sharpe. He 
 had gradually advanced from his position at 
 the door-jaumb to the spot where Gernon sat 
 bound, and he now spoke from a chair of his 
 own which he had occupied close before the 
 prisoner. " Hearkee, Johnny, pet,'' he went 
 on, resting his hands on his knees, and stooping 
 forward till their noses almost touched ; " ye 
 won't ride home wi' the hansome small-swords. 
 
302 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 the even ; nor on the hansome hunter ; nor on 
 ane of the pretty jennets ; no, nor wi' the sport- 
 ing pieces ; nor wi' poor Rory's little pistolet, 
 dearee ; no you won't, hinny ; but that 's not 
 it; — by your leave, Johnny — "" he put his hand 
 into the pocket of Gernon's leathern breeches, 
 and drew out, first, the purse which Mistress 
 Louise had flung on the table ; and next, the 
 handful of gold laid at Gernon's elbow by 
 Philip Walshe — " See, here, Mr. Johnson, Sir 
 — is your prisoner to keep this power of y allow 
 money?" 
 
 Johnson demanded an account of the circum- 
 stances under which it came into Gernon's pos- 
 session, and having heard Sharpe's explana- 
 tion, decided that he certainly was not entitled 
 to retain it. 
 
 " I thought as much, you father's own rear- 
 ing," resumed Sharpe, grinning into Gernon's 
 face. 
 
 "It goes back to its lawful owners," said 
 Johnson. 
 
 Mistress Louise, with haughty energy, and 
 the young Baron with contemptuous indiffer- 
 ence, declared their disinclination to repossess 
 themselves of money which had been given for 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 303 
 
 a certain purpose, and which had purchased 
 its object. 
 
 " It's e'en gaun astray then for want of an 
 owner,'" chuckled John Sharpe, fingering the 
 purse and the loose pieces, where he had ap- 
 pealingly set them down on the table. 
 
 " Oh, no," said Johnson, carelessly taking 
 them up — '' If Gernon's they are to be, no man 
 but myself has a right to take care of them for 
 him," and he slipped the round sum into his 
 pocket, while Sharpe lost his pleasant expres- 
 sion of face, and eyed the lawgiver studiously. 
 
 " And thus my evening's work is fairly done, 
 and I am courteously free to make the most of 
 the night that has closed on us, and is to fol- 
 low," continued Johnson, facing our friends in 
 the action of one about to proffer a formal 
 leave-taking. 
 
 " Ae moment more, friend," entreated Sharpe, 
 somewhat recovering his recent abstraction — 
 " I dinna find it in my heart to part wi' Johnny 
 one say unsaid ; and here it is, Johnny : tlie 
 mass fines, dearee — the seventy-eight pounds, 
 hinney, — that 's not in your pocket, is it .^" 
 
 " But it shall be, or in the pocket of any ac- 
 credited person who demands it in the name of 
 
304 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 the authority which John Gernon cited in 
 levying it,'' said Mr. Pendergast, — " My visit- 
 ors here assent to as much upon their own 
 accounts. I promise to be accountable for the 
 portions of the fine incurred by Patrick O 'Burke 
 and my late gamekeeper ; and I notice you, 
 once more, John Gernon, that in nothing do we, 
 of our own accord, gainsay the word of the law." 
 
 " A good and loyal speech to close with, Mr. 
 Pendergast," said Johnson; — " And yet," he 
 continued, in a low voice, approaching his seem- 
 ingly unwilling host, " although all this cau- 
 tion may screen yourself, to-morrow morning, I 
 would counsel you not to leave a single Popish 
 friend of yours to abide the questioning of our 
 present and lately-past adventures under your 
 honest roof, in the first light of that coming 
 morning. You understand me. Sir ; so, enough. 
 Our farewells come on at last.— Men, follow me 
 with the prisoner. — Mr. Miles Pendergast, a 
 good night." 
 
 '' Before you go," interrupted Pender- 
 gast, '* assist us in finding Mr. James, I pray 
 you." 
 
 " He has already been looked after," answer- 
 ed Johnson, " but to no purpose ; and, credit 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 305 
 
 me, you are little likely to see him again on 
 Northern ground, if his legs continue the good 
 friends to him that, as I can hear, they were 
 after his jump through the window. But again 
 I recommend you, Sir, to offer your present 
 guests — (and I deem I may extend the warning 
 to your some-time gamekeeper, and even your 
 Protestant steward, so remarkable for his abet- 
 ting of Papists to-night) — no beds under your 
 hospitable protection ; yet, do as you prefer." 
 
 " Horses for all, if needful, will be left in 
 the stables .^" asked Pendergast. 
 
 " Their own horses, Sir — how can you ques- 
 tion it ? I speak of your adopted son and his 
 friends ; your two servants may also find them- 
 selves supplied. As for me and my neighbours, 
 John Gernon's dismounted bachelors will yield 
 him and me, and them, the means of a night 
 ride Southward." 
 
 "• But those said men you speak of — how are 
 they to be answered for .^" still demanded Pen- 
 dergast ; and while he spoke, there was a doubt- 
 ful and alarmed expression in his eye. 
 
 " Fear not that one will be missing," John- 
 son replied ; '' not a hair of a man's head has 
 been hurt ; you will only find them aU tied « 
 
306 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 
 
 neck and heels, at different distances from each 
 other, in various holes and corners of your house 
 and your grounds. Look for them, and cut 
 their cords when it pleases you," he whispered ; 
 " though I do not believe it will be until after 
 your friends are mounted and off. — And now, 
 a third time, if not a fourth, farewell to this 
 fair and noble company."" He bowed all but 
 gracefully : there was only a nameless some- 
 thing between his late and present manner and 
 that of acknowledged gentility. — " Gernon, you 
 will be close by me on the road." 
 
 '' The road ?'' questioned Gernon—" If you 
 think to give a face of truth to your words; 
 and if, indeed, I have done ought to make me 
 punishable by the law of the land, why not 
 carry me straight into the town, and deliver me 
 over to the legal authorities thereof?" 
 
 ••' Suppose your offence not to have been 
 committed within their jurisdiction, Gernon.^'' 
 in his turn questioned Johnson ; and, farther, 
 suppose your friends too many there, and mine 
 too few; but, content you, I say, upon the 
 word of an honest man, my conduct shall be 
 lawfully decorous towards you in all things — 
 even yourself, John, will not complain of it to 
 
t^ 
 
 THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 307 
 
 your father-confessor — your chaplain I mean — 
 while the crowd are gathered to see your last 
 exhibition. — Carry him carefully between ye," 
 he added to his men, and walked out of the 
 parlour. 
 
 His submissive attendants quickly executed 
 his commands. Gernon was lifted out now un- 
 resisting, and witli him and his bearers all the 
 strangers left the apartment. 
 
 An involuntary pause and silence ensued be- 
 tween the company they quitted, who did not 
 even consult each other's eyes, until a clatter 
 and galloping of horses was heard outside the 
 house, dying gradually away at a distance. 
 Then Mr. Pendergast, flinging himself in a 
 chair, cried, "Very, very strange !"" Lady Dor- 
 cas looked smiling at Patrick ; Rory Laherty's 
 lamentations were distinctly uttered ; and John 
 Sharpens chuckle, and the Baron of Crana's in- 
 different, and yet mocking laugh, responded to 
 his impotent cries. 
 
 " And what's to be proceeded with now ?""* 
 inquired Lady Dorcas. 
 
 " Why, I think, Paddy O'Burke must say 
 yes to our invitation to the old castle, whether 
 he will or no," said her brother. 
 
308 THE LAST BARON OP CRANA. 
 
 " That must be it,'' agreed Pendergast, as if 
 his own anxious thoughts had been spoken for 
 him. 
 
 " And without waiting f9r the morning, as 
 that strange fellow said," pursued the Baron. 
 
 " Assuredly ; he, and you, and even your 
 ladies, Baron of Crana, must to horse upon the 
 instant — alone, I manage matters as I can," 
 said Pendergast." — Patrick" — he beckoned 
 his hand to his protege, walking to a desk in a 
 remote quarter of the room — " we part sud- 
 denly, Patrick, after many years of living to- 
 gether ; but I may see you soon, or hear from 
 you — till when, take that." He put a little 
 bag of gold in Patrick's hand — " and that," — 
 embracing him — " son of your father, I am 
 your friend still." 
 
 While, with broken and low words, Patrick 
 fitly made answer to this parting address, a 
 loud shout arose from Rory Laherty, who had 
 squatted himself in Priest James's corner, and 
 he demanded was he to be left behind ? Pa- 
 trick's assurances relieved him. 
 
 " I'se e'en gae also," John Sharpe was heard 
 to snuffle," as Protestant protector and guar- 
 dian to the lad, for ae journey, provided that 
 his Honour, my master, allows of the same." 
 
THE LAST BARON OF CRANA. 309 
 
 " Do so, John ; you may chance, indeed, to 
 be of use to the friendless boy ; but I will 
 reckon upon your speedy return to me with an 
 account of his safe housing in Crana castle — 
 and now let some of us to the stables.'' 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
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