THE MILLER
GLANMIRE
MURPHY

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OF THE
NERSH
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Complements of the Anthisn
Con... J. Murphy




RONYANE & ROE
THE
SACK
FLOUR
"Good morning, Schoolmaster!" "Glad to see you, Miss McCabe."-p. 19.
Red
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE
AN
IRISH STORY
BY
CON T. MURPHY
Author of the following plays:
"Ivy LEAF," "FAIRIES' WELL," "KILLARNEY,”
“GAMEKEEPER," ETC., ETC.
CHICAGO:
GEORGE W. BARKER,
1895
MINNESOTA
COPYRIGHT 1895, BY CON T. MURPHY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Beck
$12M952
OM
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER
I THE MILL AND THE SACK O' FLOUR.
PAGE
5
II THE SCHOOLMASTER OF BALLINAMOCHT. 13
III SHAMUS ROE.
30
IV THE PARTNER.
52
V LITTLE DANNY.
66
VI SNAP-APPLE NIGHT.
75
VII THE FAIRY'S GIFT TO ALICE.
108
VIII THE HAUNTED CHAPEL.
116
IX BLIND MAN'S BUFF.
-131
X WITHIN THE CHAPEL.
150
XI THE MARRIAGE RECORD.
156
XII AN HOUR'S TRIUMPH.
171
XIII THE MISSING LEAF.
196
XIV THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
224
832487
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE·
AN IRISH STORY.
CHAPTER I.
THE MILL AND THE SACK O' FLOUR.
ON the Lower Glanmire road, about four
miles from the city of Cork, and within a
stone's throw of the river Lee, stands the
flouring mill of Ronyane & Roe. A mill
of no great pretensions, or large dimensions,
but yet it does a thriving business.
To the south of the mill, and from the
hills in the west, flows a stream of water,
deep, clear, and drinkable, which ends its
rapid downward course in the beautiful river
Lee, and is known as the "Millers' Luck,"
as it continuously turns the old mill wheel,
and-like an Irishman when he has money-
never goes dry, thereby turning many an
6
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
honest shilling into the pocket of honest
Jerry Roe, the miller.
Opposite the mill, on a gentle eminence,
you may read over the door of a low,
thatched cabin, these words: "The Sack O'
Flour." It is a Shebeen, or tap room, and,
being the only one in the immediate neigh-
borhood, where a poor boy can
can get a
drop o' mountain dew, many a hard earned
shilling is exchanged for the "seducin'
crathur," by Toby O'Keefe, or
as he is
called both near and far, "Smilin' Tobe."
One bright morning in the fall of 1886,
Jerry Roe was standing looking up the
lane, or short cut as it is called, that leads from
the middle, to the lower Glanmire road and
past the old mill. He is a man of 55,
with iron gray hair, hale and hearty, with
an honest look in his large gray eyes, and an
honest heart beating under his flour-covered
waistcoat. Rich and poor honor and respect
Jerry Roe, the miller of Glanmire.
Outside the mill door, seated on a pile of
sacks, reading the Cork Examiner, is a much
younger man, perhaps 27 or 28 years of age,
nearly six foot tall, with dark hair, a hand-
some face, and the physique of an athlete.
THE MILL AND THE SACK O' FLOUR.
7
This is Neil Brandon, the book-keeper and
confidential man of the firm of Ronyane
& Roe.
"Not a thing in sight," said Roe, as he
advanced towards Neil. "What's the news
this mornin' Nale?"
"Not a thing," said Neil, "would you like
to see the paper?" offering it to him.
"No, I'd rather see the whate; its not
comin' as fast as I'd like; I'm afeared we'll be
several barrels short on our order."
"It's only Monday morning" replied Neil
rising. "The farmers will be coming in as
thick as hops before the week is past."
(
99
"They can't come too thick or fast for me,
said Jerry, "but Nale, boy, don't lave them
go by. Empty their carts no matter how
full they may be."
"Never fear, they'll go home with empty
carts, but pockets filled."
"That's right, Nale; that's right, but 'tis dry
work waitin' for them, so I think I'll go in
the Sack O' Flour, an' have a pint o' porter."
As he got to the door, he turned to Neil,
saying: "Won't ye jine me boy?"
"No, Mr. Roe, I might miss a bushel of
wheat while I'm in the 'Sack O' Flour.'. By
оо
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
the way, if you find Shamus in there, tell
him I'm waiting for him."
"Do ye mane to tell me," and there was
anger in Roe's voice, "that he's not at
work this mornin'?"
"I haven't set eyes on him as yet," and
Neil laughed.
"Well, I'll set the dogs on him," said
Jerry, as he left the Shebeen door, and
looked up the lane. "Out hurleyin' yester-
day, I suppose, and maybe some one
smashed his shins for him.”
"More likely some one got their shins
smashed by him," said Neil.
"No fear of Shamus; why he's one of
the best hurlers in Ireland."
"I wish he was one o' the best millers,"
and Roe sighed, as much as to say, that's
a forlorn hope. While Jerry was look-
ing up the short cut for sight of Shamus,
or the load of whate, and Brandon had
resumed reading his
reading his paper. There ap-
peared at the door of the "Sack O' Flour,
a queer piece of humanity, about five feet
one in height, with a head of hair nearly
the size of a shock of ripe oats, and
about the same shade. Small, deep-set
""
THE MILL AND THE SACK O' FLOUR. 9
eyes of changeable color, according to his
humor, fat almost to obesity, his face clean
shaven, red as a pipin, and round as the full
moon. This was Toby O'Keefe, or Smilin'
Tobe, the landlord of the "Sack O' Flour."
His glance was an angry one, as it rested
on Neil Brandon, but a smile lighted up
his big broad face as he saw Jerry Roe.
Tobe could smile, and while he smiled,
poison you with his liquor. He remained
standing in his doorway until he saw Jerry
turn to join Brandon, then he retired only
to return, as Roe resumed his conversation.
"Who knows, Nale, Shamus may become a
miller yet, he's young and strong, an' has a
good chance in the mill. I don't see any-
thing to hinder him.”
"I do," said Neil rising and throwing his
paper aside.
"What is it Nale?" asked Roe.
22
"That which has prevented many a young
man in the neighborhood from doing good."
And Neil pointed to the "Sack O' Flour.'
Jerry Roe winced. It was his custom to visit
the Shebeen shop three or four times a day,
for the proverbial glass, or pint o' porter.
"I'm very dry, is there any water in the
10
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRĖ.
mill,” asked Roe.
"Plenty of it," replied Neil, "fresh and
clear. Take my word for it, one draught of
it will do you more good than all the porter
in Smilin' Tobe's cursed shop.
""
"I think I'll try a taste of it," said Jerry
as he entered the mill. O'Keefe, who had
been listening, advanced toward Neil with a
wicked light in his sunken eyes, and said:
"One good turn desarves another, Mr. Nale
Brandon."
"That has always been my motto, Mr.
Tobe O'Keefe" replied Neil.
"It might be my turn to-morrow. I may
surprise ye."
"By doing a good turn," and Neil smiled;
"that would be a surprise, not only to me,
but to the neighbors."
"What would?" sneered Tobe.
""
"To see you do a good turn for anyone.
"I could drive many a farmer away from
the mill dure wid his cart full o' good
whate," snarled Tobe.
K
"It's many a one you've driven from your
own door, with his skin full of bad whisky,
said Neil as he walked towards the mill.
"Oh, yer good at preachin'," said Tobe
}
THE MILL AND THE SACK O' FLOUR.
11
following him. "Tis a great pity yer not
in orders."
,,
"It is lucky for you that I am not, re-
plied Neil, turning on him. "If I were in
orders, let me tell you what my next Sun-
day's discourse would be. I would advise
the people to burn the Sack O' Flour to the
ground; and afterwards, drive you far beyond
the precincts of Glanmire, to return at your
peril."
Tobe laughed. It was a hard, dry laugh,
and had the effect of the report of a fowling
piece, on the birds perched on the trees near
by, for on hearing it, they stopped singing,
and took to flight, while Tobe all unconsious
of the havoc he had created among the
feathery tribe, almost screamed into the ears
of Brandon: "Ye wouldn't dare. If ye wor
the Bishop himself, I'd defy ye.
I've my
lase o' the Sack O' Flour, and I pay my
license."
"Yes," replied Neil with a sigh. "The
lease and the license has made many a
home desolate, broken many a heart."
"Bah!" And Smilin' Tobe snapped his fin-
ger and thumb. "Broken hearts, or broken
heads, is the one to me, as long as there's
12
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
liquor galore in the Sack O' Flour. Keep
yer sentiment, Mr. Nale Brandon, for yer
wather drinkin' friends 'tis out o' place wid
me."
And with a repetition of his laugh,
but not within hearing of the birds, he
entered his den.
"Heartless scoundrel," said Neil resuming
his seat on the sacks. "My water-drinking
friends in this neighborhood are few and
far between. More's the pity."
CHAPTER II.
THE SCHOOLMASTER OF BALLINAMOCHT.
A SHORT distance from Cork on the upper
Glanmire road is the little village of Ballin-
amocht. I hardly think you will find it on
the map, as it is too insignificant to be recog
nized among the many beautiful suburbs of
the second city in Ireland. There is nothing
of especial interest to the tourist as he passes
through the village on his way to Carigtoohill,
or Middleton, save, indeed, it may be the mass
of juvenile humanity by which he is assailed,
as they crowd around his side car, with the
cry: "Sur, sur, if ye plaze, would ye give us
a pinny, to pay the schoolmaster for the eddi-
cation," or "mam would yer ladyship throw
a hay-pinny on the road for to buy a prim-
mer wid the A B C's in it," and indeed it
14
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
is many's the penny that is placed in the
dirty hand of a Tim, or Mike, or Bryan, to
pay for the eddication, and many the half-
penny thrown on the road to be scrambled
for by the unruly ragamuffins, thus enabling
the donor to pass along, and avoid the fur-
ther importunities of these young toll-gath-
erers.
But the penny does not pay for the
eddication, nor does the hay-penny buy the
primmer. Oh, no; the coppers immediately
find their way into the cabin of Mrs. Bridget
Fay, and are there exchanged for taffy and
gingerbread, which the youngsters devour
on the side of the road with evident gusto,
while they impatiently wait for their next
victim.
A painter seeking the picturesque,
would pass through Ballinamocht, without
unstrapping his easel. There is nothing
there to catch the eye of the artist. Its fif-
teen or twenty small dilapidated thatched
cabins, or its few scattered cottages, each
one with its little plot of ground, where long
since the flower has given way to the weed,
would be too commonplace to be transferred
to canvas, yet within those thatched cabins,
}
SCHOOLMASTER OF BALLINAMOCHT. 15
and neglected cottages, dwell a God-fearing
people, for no Sunday passes that they do
not trudge many a mile, some of them bare-
footed, to hear His blessed word, there being
no chapel in the village.
Poor, 'tis true, too poor to waste the time
in exterminating the weed, so that the flow-
er might thrive. Those who are fortunate
enough to be able to rent an acre, or so,
work late and early, among the pota-
toe, the turnip, or the cabbage, while those
who have no acre, work in the peat bog,
or wherever the day's work may be had, to
keep the humble roof over their loved ones
heads, the bite and sup in their mouths. The
neatest looking cottage in the village, is that
of the schoolmaster, Tyler McCabe. There
and only there, are the flowers not neglected.
The schoolmaster's household, consists of
himself, his daughter Hannora, and Nancy
the "ould mare," whom Tyler loves almost as
well as he does Hannora. He is a man past
the half century, tall and angular, with a
pale, oval face, full of determination, light
blue eyes, and a bald head, which materially
aids a lofty brow. Eight years previous to
our introducing him, his wife died, leaving
16
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
to his care their only child Hannora, now a
buxom maiden of two-and-twenty, good-nat-
ured, good-hearted, and good-tempered, but
not a beauty.
"Ah!" her father would say, as she sat
by the window, with its pretty chintz
curtains, knitting, or plying the needle, as
the case may be. "Ah! how ye remind me of
yer dear mother, sitting there, yer her very
image, barrin' her raven hair, an' her eyes of
sloe."
"Father dear," Hannora would reply, "tis
a great comfort to me that I remind ye of
my mother in Heaven. But sure 'tis no fault
o' mine, if my hair is red, an my eyes are
blue, 'tis a blessin bestowed upon me I think,
for I'm fond o' colors, an red an blue matches
my complexion so well," and Hannora would
laugh, a soft musical laugh. "But what's the
harm; sure what I lack in good looks, I can
make up in good deeds," and so she did, for
while Tyler and Nancy were working the
four acres of rented ground to the north of
the schoolmaster's cottage, Nora McCabe
was ministering to the wants of Mrs. Maloney
who was down wid the fayver, or rubbing
liniment into the shoulder of Mrs. Fagin who
SCHOOLMASTER OF BALLINAMOCHT. 17
couldn't move her arm with the rheumatism;
or if not attending the sick and suffering, is
taking care of Mrs. Twohey's twins, while
that good woman is doin' the bit o' washin
for the ten childre, and the ould man. Sun-
down always finds Hannora in her own neat,
snug kitchen, singing like a bird, while she
prepares the evening meal for herself and
father at the same time. After a hard day's
work, the schoolmaster is engaged in rubbing
Nancy down a bit, previous to making her a
bed of nice clean straw, while Nancy, poor
baste, is regailing herself with a manger full
of hay, and a small taste of oats. After the
tea things are put away in the dresser, and
Tyler has finished his second pipe, father
and daughter adjourn to the barn in the
rear of the cottage. For it is under the
same roof with Nancy, the boys and
girls of Ballinamocht and the country
near by are taught the readin' and the
writin' at the night school of Tyler Mc-
Cabe. The barn or schoolroom, if you
please, is about sixteen foot square. It's
furniture consists of a blackboard hanging on
the wall; five or six rough benches without
backs, a chair and small table for the school-
18
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
master. Suspended from the ceiling is an
iron hoop, to which is attached eight sconces,
and in each sconce is a piece of tallow candle.
The illuminating is attended to by Con Fagin,
for which service he gets his larnin' gratis.
Here every night at 8, except Saturday
and Sunday, sits Nora McCabe, with primer
in hand, teaching the juvenile feminine gen-
der their A B C's, A B, Ab's, and I B Ib's,
while the schoolmaster plys the chalk on the
face of the blackboard, or the switch on the
backs of the unruly boys, from the puny strip-
ling of eight or nine, to the robust full-grown
boy of five-and-twenty. (You are always a
boy in Ireland until you are married.) On
the morning of the day our story begins,
Tyler was up bright and early, and after
partaking of a hearty breakfast, put the har-
ness on Nancy, and hitched her to the two
wheeled cart, inside of which was four sacks
of wheat, and seated on the sacks Hannora,
dressed in her best, while Tyler piloted Nancy
down the short cut, to pay his respects and
dispose of his wheat to Jerry Roe, the miller
of Glanmire. A moment after Smilin' Tobe
had retired laughing into the Sack O' Flour,
and just as Brandon resumed his seat at the
SCHOOLMASTER OF BALLINAMOCHT. 19
mill door, Hannora's voice was heard a short
distance up the lane cautioning her father:
"Take care where you're drivin' or ye'll have
us in the mill strame."
"Nancy, are you blind, that ye can't see
the road; ye'll be fed in a minute," said
Tyler, as he drew rein in front of the
mill door.
"Here we are at Jerry Roe's!"
"Good morning Schoolmaster! Glad to see
you Miss McCabe," said Neil, as he arose
and saluted them.
"Same to you Nale," replied Hannora.
22
"Allow me to assist you, Miss McCabe,
and Neil approached Hannora with out-
stretched arms, as if he expected her to fall
into them.
"Lave her alone man! Youth needs no
assistance," said Tyler. "Tis ould age that
requires help.” And Hannora, ignoring
Neil, jumped to the ground. While he,
with a "I beg your pardon," assisted the
schoolmaster to alight from the cart.
My legs are as stiff a poker,” said Han-
nora as she straightened up.
car,
"Ah! Sure the cart is as aisy as a jauntin'
" replied Tyler, as he patted Nancy's
20
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
neck. ""Tis poor Nancy that should be
stiff, from the long walk, the rough roads,
and-
272
"The slow gait," laughed Hannora.
"She's not as young as you are, God help
her," said Tyler, laughing.
"Nale boy I have in the cart, four as fine
sacks o' wheat as ever was threshed in the
county. Call a couple o' the boys to take it
in the mill, while I give Nancy a feed."
Neil called two of the men from the mill
to unload the wheat from the cart, while
Tyler busied himself unhitching Nancy, and
turning her around, so that her head was
where her tail should be, untied a small
bundle of hay in the cart, and told her to
“ate her male in pace.'
99
"Ain't Shamus in the mill?" asked Han-
nora.
"No," answered Neil, "He has not been
here this morning."
"Oh! I suppose not," and Nora pouted,
"Off gallavantin' yesterday, an' to-day he's
tired."
"Ah, poor fellow," said Neil, "Sunday is
the only day he has to enjoy himself."
"I don't blame him much," and there was
SCHOOLMASTER OF BALLINAMOCHT. 21
pity in Nora's voice, "for he's there in that
ould mill all the week, wid his lungs full o'
flour."
"And his heart full of love," laughed Neil.
"Oh! I don't doubt it a bit," said Hannora.
""Tis a wonder to me that he don't bust wid
the love that's in him. Yesterday mornin',
whin my father an' myself was going to mass,
who should I spy in Grady's barn, dancin' a
four-handed reel but Mary and Nancy Grady,
Con. Fagan, and Shamus Roe, wid sorra the
music, fiddle, or pipes, savin Shamus himself
liltin'.'
"What, before chapel," asked Neil in as-
sumed horror.
"Yis, my father didn't see him then, but
whin we were goin' home, after Mass, for-
ninst us in the Borheen, wid a hurley on his
shoulder, was Shamus. 'Oh!' says I, wid a
prayer, not thinking my father heard me,
'Shamus, Shamus, how can ye wid the dance,
an' the hurley, break this blessed day?""
"Twould be a blessin' if he'd break his
neck," said my father, who caught sight of
Shamus as he was jumpin' over a hedge into
the next field.
"Perhaps that would be a blessing to the
22
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
poor boy," said Neil, "as you've already
broken his heart."
"Is it me, Nale?
"Indeed I am.
Are ye in arnest?"
He told me so."
""
"Well, that's the first thing I ever broke in
my life, savin' some crockery ware, an' I'm
always breakin' them." With a sly glance at
Neil: "De ye think it could be mended Nale?"
"You might try."
"I will," laughed Nora, "I can mend most
anything, I've never tried my hand at a
heart, but Nale tell him from me, that he
must try to mend his ways, before I try to
mend his heart," and with a laugh full of
music, Nora ran to Jerry Roe, who was stand-
ing in the mill door.
"Ah! Hannora," said the miller with ex-
tended hands, "an how is every bit o' ye?"
↓
'Purty well, thank ye, Mr. Roe, an' so is my
father."
"Wisha, Tyler," and Jerry clasped the
schoolmaster's hand, "'tis like a look at the
harvest moon to see ye. How is the baste?"
"Tired Jurry, tired, but a rest will show
all her fine points again." Tyler really imag
ined that poor, broken, down Nancy possessed
some fine points.
SCHOOLMASTER OF BALLINAMOCHT. 23
"It will, Tyler; it will," and Jerry pat-
ted the faithful old animal on the back, then
turning to Hannora, "The Lord save ye
Hannora, 'tis the rosey color ye have in yer
cheeks, an' 'tis as supple as a fawn yer lookin."
"Well, Mr. Roe, 'tis not as supple as a fawn
I'm feelin'. My legs are that stiff I can hardly
walk."
"Ah! sure, dear, if ye can't walk, take a
run in the garden wid Alice. That'll put yer
joints in good order.
"Is she at home?"
""
"Oh, indeed she is, God bless her," answered
Jerry.
"Then, I'll go and see her," with a sly look
at Neil, "As I have to borry a needle."
"Yerra, for what?" asked Tyler.
"I have a job of mendin' to do."
'Why didn't ye attend to it before ye left
home," said her father.
"I didn't know it needed it then."
"What is it at all," and Tyler removed his
well-worn coat to examine it.
"Oh! sure it isn't yer coat father, 'tis only
a young man's heart." And turning Nora
sauntered up the lane, singing "Love's Young
Dream," while Neil Brandon watched her
24
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
until she entered a pretty vine-covered cot-
tage, where for the present, dwelt the beauty
of Glanmire, Alice Moyne.
"Tell me, Jerry," said the schoolmaster,
after Nora had gone, "De ye think she has
him?"
"Who?" inquired Jerry.
"Why, Nale, of course."
"No," replied the miller. ""Twould take
more than a needle an' thread to mend his
heart."
"Would it now?" said Tyler interested.
"What would it take?"
"Whisper," and the miller looked mysteri-
ously at Neil. " "Twould take the two eyes of
Alice Moyne."
"Oh! ah! um! Yis!" and the schoolmaster
winked at the miller. Then they nudged
each other and looked at Neil, who was in a
quandary to know why they were gazing at
him and whispering. His thoughts were in-
terrupted, however, by Roe telling him to go
into the mill, measure the wheat, and bring
the money to Mr. McCabe.
"A fine looking lad," said Tyler, as Neil
entered the mill.
"An' as good as he's good lookin'," replied
SCHOOLMASTER OF BALLINAMOCHT. 25
Jerry. "Honest as the sun, an' sober as Nancy
beyant. Never touches a sup."
"Talkin' o' sups, Jerry, a small taste won't
hurt us," and the schoolmaster pointed to the
rustic bench and small table, near the door
of the Sack O' Flour. "Come."
"No, thank ye, Schoolmaster, there's plenty
wather in the mill."
"It requires wather to run it," replied Tyler.
"But I require something stronger after
my ride. Why man, I'm shiverin' like a lafe
in November .Come and sit down.”
Remembering Neil's word about Tobe's
cursed porter, Jerry cast a frightened look
towards the mill, and then reluctantly took
a seat opposite the schoolmaster.
"Here Tobe, ye villian," shouted the peda-
gogue, knocking his knuckles on the table.
"Where are ye?" No need to ask-Smilin'
Tobe stood at McCabe's elbow. He was
always on the alert for a cash customer, and
knowing Tyler was ready money, greeted him
in the most obsequious manner. "The top o'
the mornin' to ye, Mr. McCabe," and then the
usual inquiry: "What'll it be gentlemen?"
"Two pints o' porter," ordered Jerry.
Tyler objected. "You may drink porter
26
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
Jerry, but I'll have a noggin o' spirits to
warm me up a bit." Smilin' Tobe entered
the inn to fill the order. "I must see Maurice
Ronyane," continued Tyler, "in regard to
the school. I must have protection or
"He
was interrupted by Tobe with the liquids.
"Here we are, gintlemen," and Tobe placed
on the table two mugs of porter, a small glass
of whisky and another of water.
"That extra porter was'nt ordered,” said
Tyler, as he handed Tobe some money. Tobe
counted it, then raised the mug of porter,
and said "Yer very good health, schoolmaster.
I'll drink this and it'll make the change
right."
"See here O'Keefe," angrily replied the
schoolmaster, "If I must pay for medicine
for my health, I'll pay the doctor.”
"Oh! Mr. Roe will ye listen to him," laughed
Tobe. "He always will have his fun,” and
Tobe drank the porter. "Now gentlemen to
make amends, ye'll have a taste wid me,
and without waiting for an affimative or a
negative, he hastened after the taste.
""
"Ye must drink it now," said Jerry, "if it
drowns ye.
"De ye think he'll put wather enough in
SCHOOLMASTER OF BALLINAMOCHT. 27
it?" asked Tyler.
"Isn't he going to trate?"
"So he said."
"Well ye'll get no clear liquor at his ex-
pense," said the miller. "But tell me, Tyler,
in regard to the school, what de ye mane by
protection; are the boys troublesome."
"They are Jerry. The other evenin', Mike
Dooley came late, as usual. 'Come here Mike,
says I, 'till I make an example o' ye. Hould
out yer hand, I want to take the measure of it
with this rule." He didn't stir. 'Give me yer
hand, Mike, says I.'"
"An' did he?"
"Oh, indeed, he did; the full flat of it on
my face."
66
'Ah! the villain," exclaimed
ought to-
"exclaimed Jerry, he
"Once more, gintlemen," said Smilin' Tobe,
as he placed the poison on the table. "Now
ye can drink my health."
"Thank ye, O'Keefe," and contempt shone
in the schoolmaster's eyes. "That's a privi-
lige ye don't often accord to yer customers."
"Your money, Schoolmaster," said Neil, as
he came from the mill. "Three pounds-
three and sixpence."
sixpence." Which amount he
28
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
placed in McCabe's hand.
the money.
"Thank ye, Nale, boy," and Tyler counted
"Hallo!" As he handed a note
to Jerry. "There's a pound note that's seen
service, 'tis nearly torn in two."
"Ah! sure," said Smilin' Tobe, as he
looked at the note, over the miller's shoulder.
""Tis as good as whate."
6
'Why wouldn't it," said Tyler. "Sure,
that's what I got it for-whate!"
There was a general laugh at Tobe's ex-
pense.
"That's odd," exclaimed Jerry, as he ex-
amined the note.
"What's odd?" Came in chorus from the
others.
'Three thousand, three hundred and thirty-
three,” replied the miller, giving the num-
bers on the note.
"I wish I had as many of them as these
numbers on it," laughed the schoolmaster.
"There's luck in odd numbers," chimed in
Smilin' Tobe.
"Ye'd better take this one, Mr. McCabe.
Sure, I'll take it for refreshments, if it
should become oneasy in yer pocket."
"This one, I'll never become aisy, or onaisy
SCHOOLMASTER OF BALLINAMOCHT. 29
in your pocket, Mr. O'Keefe, give it to me
Jerry."
"No Tyler," the miller handed the note to
Neil. "Nale, boy, bring the schoolmaster a
whole one, an' mind that." Neil entered the
mill with the torn one pound note number-
ed Three thousand, three hundred and thirty-
three. At the same moment, a voice was
heard some distance up the short cut, sing-
ing the "Rakin Paudeen Rhue."
""Tis Shamus come at last," said Tobe, and
the smile broadened on his ruddy face.
""Tis last he always comes," and Jerry Roe
frowned, while the owner of the voice came
nearer.
CHAPTER III.
SHAMUS ROE.
STILL singing (and he could sing) there
entered upon the scene a young man, dressed
in a neat fitting courduroy coat, with cap to
match, light colored knee-breeches and leg-
gins. In appearance he is rather above the
medium height, powerfully built, and strong
as an ox, which fact many of the boys, in and
near Glanmire, will vouch for. He is about
25 years of age, with dark brown hair,
cut close to the head, while his eyes are gray
as the dawn of day, and his mouth is made
for laughter. Such is Shamus Roe, the sweet-
est singer, the finest dancer, the best hurler,
the greatest wrestler, and the biggest divil
among the girls in all Glanmire. Shamus
knew very little of a father's or mother's love.
SHAMUS ROE.
31
The worthy woman who gave him birth died
when he was but 5 years old, and his
father, a "ne'r do well" soon after left for the
gold fields of America, where all trace of him
was lost. Thus it was that Jerry Roe, his
father's brother, being childless himself, took
little Shamus to his heart and home.
years old, the boy was sent to a public school
in Cork. Jerry loved the lad, and had great
hope of his advancement.
"Vain hope."
At 12
Shamus soon tired of the school, and in the
morning instead of going to Cork, he would
only go as far as the brickfields, where with
a few companions, older than himself, they
would disport for hours in the clear water of
the River Lee. So it was that he became
very proficient in swimming, but very defi-
cient in book learning. At 18 he was
put in the mill, but like the school, it had
very few charms for him. He would weary
of the noise and bustle, and devote more of
his time to the Sack O' Flour, than he would
to the sack o' wheat. As may be surmised,
Shamus on this particular morning was in
dire disgrace with his uncle, as he came along
the lane expatiating in song, on the many
virtues of "Rakin Paudeen Rhue." When
32
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
the "Vagabone" as the miller was pleased to
call him, saw Nancy, he greeted her with not
an over gentle prod in the side, at the same
time asking the poor baste:
"How is every
morsel o' ye?"
"Oh! will ye look at him!" exclaimed Jerry,
"wid his best shoot o' clothes on him, an' this
Monday."
"Shamus," shouted the schoolmaster.
"Oh! the Lord save ye this fine mornin',
Mr. McCabe," said Shamus, still tickling
Nancy.
"Shamus, don't interfere with the aitin' of
Nancy."
"I won't, sur; if there's anyone hungry
enough to stomach it."
"Stomach what?" asked the schoolmaster.
"The aitin' of Nancy," and Shamus looked
serious.
66
99
"Shamus Roe, lave her ait her oats in pace.
"Oats!" and the vagabond looked in the
cart. Ah, wisha, schoolmaster, 'tis the
smooth tongue ye have in yer head, an' how
Nancy, the poor crathur, must trust ye."
"She does Shamus, she does," and Tyler
looked proudly at Nancy.
"Oh! she must," said Shamus, as he took
SHAMUS ROE.
33
a handful of hay from the cart, "When ye
can feed her on hay, an' make her believe
'tis oats, now I dare say, as teachin' is yer
trade," and he approached the schoolmaster,
"that ye could make me believe"
"No I could'nt," said McCabe, "yer beyant
me."
"Maybe I could," exclaimed Jerry, as he
stepped forward."
"Oh! the Lord save us," and Shamus was
about to take to his heels.
"Stay where ye are," roared the miller,
and Shamus became a statue, while Jerry
continued sarcastically: ""Tis glad I am to
see ye, an' tis welcome ye are.”
"Thank ye kindly Uncle Jurry," and Sham-
us, thinking the miller really meant it, offered
his hand, which the man of flour ignored.
"Where wor ye from yer work this morn-
in'?"
Shamus not ready with an answer, stam-
mered, "Oh! is it where was I this mornin',
is it?"
"Yis, that's it, where wor ye?"
"Oh! this mornin', well ye see-Ah! uncle
Jurry, will ye mind how forgetful I am, I
forgot to ax the schoolmaster, how is Han-
.
34
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
nora?"
"Never mind Hannora," replied Jerry,
"She's well, where wor
22
"I'm glad she's well," interrupted Shamus,
"for I always had a great regard for Han-
nora, an' if Hannora-
""
"What kep' ye from yer work?" persisted
his uncle.
"Ah! uncle Jurry, don't make me praise
myself before the schoolmaster for an act o'
charity I done this mornin'. He might tell
Hannora. An' so she's well Mr. McCabe."
"In the name of all that's good and bad,"
and the miller was loosing his temper, "What
act o' charity did you do this mornin'?"
"Will ye listen to him, schoolmaster! Sure
self praise is half scandal, an' you know my
modesty," and the modest vagabond hung his
head.
"Yis, modesty is a great failin' o' yours
Shamus," replied Tyler, "but come, tell us
what did ye do. Out with it.”
"Ah, poor crathur, poor crathur! whim-
pered Shamus.
"What poor creature?" inquired Tyler.
"Mrs. Mulcahy!" answered Shamus, with
tears in his voice.
SHAMUS ROE.
35
"A very dacent ould woman," said Jerry,
his wrath against Shamus evidently some-
what appeased. "What ails her?"
"Ah! poor dacent ould woman, as uncle
Jurry says, struck wid the rheumatism in her
right side, last night; an' as I was comin' to
my work this mornin', she was screechin', an'
bawlin' for some one, so in I goes an' there-"
"It could'nt have been a very severe attack,"
interrupted Tyler. "I saw her about two
hours ago as lively as a cricket, huntin' an'
ould lame cow down the road."
"Bad luck to you, an' the cricket," was the
mental prayer of Shamus. "I must try an-
other story," and turning to Tyler as if very
much surprised. "Yerra schoolmaster dear.
Do ye mane to tell me, that she's out
again?"
"I saw her with my two eyes, I tell ye,
answered Tyler.
""
"An' her dyin' wid the rheumatism, the
poor crature," sorrowfully sobbed Shamus.
"What poor crature is dyin' wid the rheu-
matism?" impatiently asked Jerry. "Is it
Mrs. Mulcahy?"
"No, 'tis the cow," sniveled Shamus, wiping
the mock tear from his eyes, while the miller
36
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
and schoolmaster exchanged glances. "Ye
see whin I wint in, for the love o' mercy says
Mrs. Mulcahy, (poor dacent ould woman) for
the love o' mercy, Shamus, says she, run after
her." "Who ma'am?" says I. "The cow," says
the poor dacent ould woman, she's wild, an'
so she was, the poor crathure, wid the pain in
her right side, from the rheumatism. So, at
Mrs. Mulcahy's biddin', after her, I goes, over
hedges, an' ditches, through fields an' bogs,
an' her runnin wid the rheumatism in her
left side. At last I kem up wid her, an' druv
her home. It was a charity to do it, for Mrs.
Mulcahy had no milk for her tay an'
""
"I'm afeared, Shamus, that milk story has
a good dale o' wather in it," laughed the
schoolmaster.
"Ah! the poor crathure," innocently re-
plied Shamus. "Maybe the rheumatism in
her shoulder run her dry. I left her at the
pump when I kem away."
29
'Tis under the pump some one should
have left you," said Jerry. "Where wor
ye yesterday, huntin' a cow?"
"No," replied the schoolmaster, "huntin'
the ball. I saw him lep a hedge with a hur-
ley on his shoulder. Don't deny it Shamus.
""
SHAMUS ROE.
37
1
"Is it me?" said Shamus, in an injured tone. .
"Ah! sure Mr McCabe, you know, I wouldn't
tell a lie to you, or Uncle Jerry.
22
"Ahem! No, of course not; but then we've
just had a taste o' yer milk."
"Oh! lave him alone, schoolmaster," said
Jerry, with a tinge of sarcasm.
" "Tis crame
he'll be given us next.'
22
"Divil a word o' lie, I'll tell ye," said Sha-
mus proudly. "It was Glanmire against Bal-
linamocht, an' from the minute the ball wint
up, for two hours, 'twas no man's battle," and
suiting the action to the word, Shamus con-
tinued : "Here an' there an' everywhere.
One moment on yer heels, the nixt on yer
head, helter skelter across the field, an' back
again, trip an' fall, rise an' kick, but never
home.'
22
"Yis, man, yis, but tell me did. ye bate
them," asked Jerry excitedly.
"Did we bate them? Out o' the field an' off
the road."
"De
ye mane to tell me that ye laid hands
upon them," asked Tyler.
"We'd scorn to do it," replied Shamus.
"Is it Glanmire do a mane turn, no sur.
Maybe there was a head or two broken, or a
38
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
few shins scraped, but 'twas from foot or
hurley. The sorras the much time they had
to look at their wounds, 'till we drove them
beyant the haunted chapel, in the Lovers'
Lane."
"The usual results of not keepin' the Lord's
day, as it should be kept," and Tyler looked
serious, as he said: "What will be the result
of this?"
"I dunno, sur!" replied Shamus, 'til we
resume our divarshun nixt Sunday."
"Ye'll find a lot o' divarshun in the mill
for the rest o' the week, an' I'll keep my eye
on ye nixt Sunday, but for this mornin's
work, I'll chalk a days pay down again ye,
said Jerry as he entered the mill.
"Oh! indeed, if that's all that'll be chalked
down agin me, I'll be safe enough," laughed
Shamus.
"Shamus," said the schoolmaster kindly,
"Ye must stop this kind of work. Avoid
the Sack O' Flour, an' stick to the mill.'
""
"Arrah! schoolmaster dear, how can I
avoid the Sack O' Flour if I stick to the
mill," asked Shamus innocently.
"Ye know very well that I don't mane for
ye to avoid the sack that contains the flour."
SHAMUS ROE.
39
"Ye mane the one that
that contains the
whisky. Well, sur," said Shamus scratch-
ing his head, "it isn't many loaves Tobe
O'Keefe's Sack O' Flour makes for a poor
boy."
"True for ye, Shamus; but 'tis many a
loaf the poor boy makes for Tobe O'Keefe."
"Well, Mr. McCabe, although huntin' that
cow wid the rheumatism in her right side,
made me pretty dry, I'll take yer advice.
I'll make no more loaves for Smilin' Tobe.
I'm done wid the drink."
"I'm glad of it," and the kind old school-
master patted the vagabond on the back.
"And so am I," said a voice at his elbow.
Shamus turned to greet a being, fair as an
Irish May morning, tall, slender and grace-
ful. A mass of shining raven hair crowns
her well poised head, while her eyes, dark
as a starless night, and bright as the light-
ning's flash, looks from beneath a broad fore-
head, from which the silken locks are care-
fully brushed. A rare vision of loveliness
is Alice Moyne, as with red parted lips, she
looks into the face of Shamus, as she ex-
claims: "And so am I!"
"And so am I!" chimed in Hannora.
40
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
'Well, if it comes to that," said Shamus,
"An' so am I. My schoolmaster, will ye
look-two angels as sponsors to the pledge.
The two girls had returned from their run in
the garden just as Shamus had promised
the schoolmaster he'd drink no more.
"I hope you'll keep your word Shamus,"
said Alice Moyne, as she placed her small
white hand, in the broad palm of the future
abstainer.
"An' so do I!" said Hannora.
"An' so do I!" echoed Shamus.
"What did you say?" asked the school-
master.
"I said if I did'nt I'd lie," answered truth-
ful Shamus; "but come, the dockiment is
ready for the sales of the sponsers.
""
"Arrah! What dockiment?" asked Han-
nora.
"The pledge," replied Shamus, with a
wink at the schoolmaster.
"Tis upon my two lips, an' waitin' to be
stamped."
"Oh! ye villain," laughed Tyler, "Come
girls seal it, stamp it, or it'll spoil; kiss him,"
and at the schoolmaster's bidding, the vaga-
bond receives the stamps, from as pretty a
SHAMUS ROE.
41
quartette of lips, as you'd find in a day's
walk.
"Remember Shamus," said Alice, those
stamps are not to be removed by taste of
liquor."
"Ah! sure,” replied the smooth-tongued
receiver of the sweets, "When the dew kisses
the tulips in the mornin', nothin' but the
blessed sun can remove it, but don't ye think
the dockiment requires a couple o' more-
27
"Be satisfied," answered Hannora pout-
ingly. "Ye'll get no more to-day, an' take
care Shamus ye don't break yer promise.
"Oh! if I do I'll give the stamps back,
whisper, Alice, Hannora.” The girls ap-
proached him. "I have five or six more good
resolutions, whenever yer ready wid the
stamps." Alice laughed, and joined Tyler
at the mill door.
"Maybe, the Grady girls would accommo-
date ye," said Hannora, and her blue eyes
snapped.
"Ah! How can ye talk like that, when ye
know that your'e the light o' my heart. The
Grady girls indeed, I haven't set eyes upon
one o' them for a month.
"Oh! Shamus Roe, Shamus Roe, when did
42
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
ye tell the truth last?"
"Whin I called you the light o' my heart,'
and he slipped his arm around her waist.
""
'Arrah, will ye look at him, an' forninst
my father," said Hannora, as she pushed him
away. "Didn't I see ye yesterday in Grady's
barn jiggin' away wid the two Grady girls
an' Con Fagin?"
"Bad luck to that barn dure, I thought it
was shut," said Shamus aside. Then turning
to Nora with an innocent air: "Yesterday, did
you say. Let me see. Was it yesterday.
Yesterday was Sunday, wasn't it?"
"I'm afeared 'tis many a month since you
gave a thought to the blessed day, dancin' an'
hurleyin' in place of bein' in the holy chapel,
what'll become o' ye?”
"Go to the bad, I suppose," replied Shamus
penitently. "But sure I only went to the
barn yesterday, Nora dear, to try the flure
for the dance. Don't ye know to-morrow
night is Snap-apple, an' the dance 'ill be at
Grady's. I'm goin' to take ye."
"Are ye; ye'd better ax me first if I'll go?"
"Oh! Indeed you will."
"Oh! Indeed I won't, at least not wid
you." And with a proud toss of her head,
SHAMUS ROE.
43
Nora approached Nancy.
"Tis coaxin' she wants," said Shamus, as
he followed her. While Nora and Shamus
were discussing the Sunday question, the
schoolmaster was eulogizing a certain young
man in the mill, and from the tell-tale color
in Alice Moyne's beautiful face, it may be
inferred that his praise of Neil Brandon
was not an unsavory dish for her to digest.
"Ah! don't blush Alice, he's an honest
boy, and he'll make ye a good husband," said
Tyler, as he saw the rose tint deepen on her
cheeks.
"But I've no idea of marrying any good
honest boy, at least not at present," said
Alice. "I am in trouble, schoolmaster, and
I want your advice."
'My advice, about what?" inquired Tyler.
"About Maurice Ronyane."
22
"Oh! indeed. What has he been doing?'
"You know," answered Alice, "that
Ronyane & Roe's lease of the mill expires
with the present month."
"Well?"
"Maurice Ronyane desires to dissolve the
partnership, and wants me to lease the mill
to him alone.”
ل
44
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
"Oh! Is that all he wants!"
"No, he wants me with the lease."
"What," said Tyler, in horror. "Marry his
own cousin! Alice, dear, what do you in-
tend to do?"
"Neither one," replied Alice with spirit,
I will not marry him, nor shall he have the
lease of the mill alone."
"Good," said Tyler, "But what do you in-
tend to do with this?" pointing to the Sack
O' Flour.
"Burn it to the ground, rather than Tobe
O'Keefe should have it."
"Ye don't need my advice," said the school-
master, as he took her hands and pressed
them warmly. "Yer doing just as I'd have ye
do."
"Here's your one pound note Mr. McCabe,"
said Neil, as he came from the mill, and
handed Tyler a note. "It's new and crisp.
Good morning, Alice."
"Good morning, Neil," replied Alice, as
she offered him her hand, which he eagerly
grasped, and held, until he saw the man of
learning smile; then as if guilty of some mis-
demeanor, dropt it; and turning to Tyler
asked "if he was through with his business
SHAMUS ROE.
45
in the mill."
•
"Every morsel of it," replied Tyler. "I
have my money for the whate an'
"I think Mr. Roe would like to see you
there," said Neil with a guilty look on his
handsome face.
"I think you'd like to see me there, or any
where, out o' this," laughed the schoolmaster,
as he went towards the mill door, where he
was intercepted by the vagabond.
"Mr. McCabe, I "and there Shamus
became tongue tied.
"Well, Shamus, what is it," asked Tyler.
"Tis a fine mornin' sur, glory be to God."
"Oh! it is, indeed," said Tyler, "but was
it to tell that, that ye stopped me?"
"No, sur; divil a thing did I want to tell
ye at-all-at-all. I only wanted to ax ye, if
ye'd lave me Yis sur, if ye'd lave me?"
"If I'd lave ye what, Shamus ?"
"Yis, sur; if ye'd lave me,
obliged to ye, for ye
-I'd be
"An' if you'd lave me go into the mill, I'd be
obliged to ye; don't ye see I'm not wanted here?
"Oh! bad cess to him," cried Hannora in
despair. "He'll spoil everything, an' my
father'll never let me go to the dance." Sha-
46
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
mus still held his ground in front of the
schoolmaster, muttering some unintelligible
words, until Tyler losing his patience, ex-
claimed: "What in the name of all the saints
do ye want, ye stutterin' highbinder?"
"The dance is goin' to be at Widdy Grady's,
to-morrow night sur," said Shamus, finding
his voice.
"Well."
"If ye plaze sur, will ye lave me take
Nancy?"
Hannora groaned, and shook her fist at the
pleader, while Alice and Neil burst into a
ripple of laughter.
"Ye may an' welcome," said Tyler, as he
passed Shamus. Then as he was about to
enter the mill, he turned with this injunc-
tion: "Mind that ye bring her home early,
an' feed her well."
""
"Oh! I will, sur; never fear, long life to ye,
said Shamus, as he looked after the school-
master. Then going to Hannora, who was
leaning against the cart, as if for support,
triumphantly exclaimed:
ye 'twould be an aisy job.
early an' feed ye well."
66
There, I tould
I'll bring ye home
"Feed me well," almost screamed Hannora,
SHAMUS ROE.
47
as she faced him with clinched fists, and
"Feed me well, de
anger in her blue eyes,
ye take me for a horse."
"Sure I'm only goin' to do yer father's
biddin'.'
"Do it then, I would'nt go across the lane
wid ye; take her to the dance, an' mind ye
feed her well. She's the only company yer
fit for, although she has more sinse. Poor
baste, that for ye, ye omadhaun," and she
snapped her fingers in his face, as she enter
ed the mill.
"Poor baste," said the amazed Shamus, as
he looked after her.
"Arrah! who does she mane?"
66
'Why, she means Nancy," laughed Alice.
"Nancy?"
"Yes; you have the schoolmaster's permis-
sion to take her to the dance to-morrow
night, provided you bring her home early and
feed her well."
"Who, the horse?"
"Certainly, it was the horse you asked
for."
"Well, bad luck to Nancy, an' her oats.
What'll I do now, I dunno," and Shamus was
in a quandry.
48
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
"Go and confess your mistake," said Alice.
"To who, the horse?"
"No! to Hannora."
"Ah! sure, if I wint near her now
19
"Your heart would jump out of your
mouth," said Neil, "as soon as she opened
hers."
"No fear o' yours jumpin' out o' your
mouth."
"Not a bit," replied Neil laughing.
"No, devil a bit, bekase ye have'nt it wid
ye; 'tis a prisioner in a well built jail, near
by," and Shamus pointed to Alice Moyne,
as he entered the mill to make his peace
with Hannora.
"Poor Shamus, why do you teaze him,
Neil."
"Why do you tease me?"
"Tease you, in what way?"
"Why, were you again last evening with
Maurice Ronyane."
"Why, simply because he was with me,
replied Alice.
""
"That is not an answer to my question. I
tell you Alice, this man's marked attentions
to you displeases me."
"Neil Brandon, you are absurdly silly."
SHAMUS ROE.
49
"Perhaps I am, or insanely jealous, if you
will;" and Neil turned away from her.
"Jealous?" and Alice Moyne's musical
laugh was echoed far up the lane. "Jealous
of my own cousin, coming to talk to me on a
matter of business."
"What business can Maurice Ronyane have
with you?"
"I deny your right to question me," replied
Alice with dignity.
"Alice Moyne, you told me nearly on the
same spot where I saw you with Maurice
Ronyane last night, that you loved me."
"And I told you the truth; I do love you
Neil Brandon; yet I deny your right to ques-
tion my actions.'
,,
"Deny the right of the man who truly
loves you?"
The
"The man who truly loves has confidence.
I am mistress of this small estate, the mill,
and that miserable shebeen; these, with the
house in Cork, in which Maurice Ronyane,
and his mother reside, belong to me.
leases of the several occupants expire with
the present month. Now, is it not natural,
that I should have business with my cousin,
Maurice? Jealous," continued Alice chid-
ì
50
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
ingly, "why you might as well be jealous of
Tobe O'Keefe. He is liable to be seen with
me at any moment, asking for a renewal of
his lease." Smilin' Tobe, or Peepin' Tobe, as
we should call him on this occasion, with
the door of the Sack O' Flour slightly ajar,
had not missed a word of the conversation
between the lovers, which conversation he
would repeat verbatum to his best costumer,
Maurice Ronyane, but like all eavesdroppers,
Tobe was destined not to hear any good of
himself.
"Will you renew his lease?" asked Neil.
Tobe pushed his large ear through the apper-
ture, to catch the answer.
slowly, I will steal a
"No," replied Alice. "I would rather give
it to some poor man rent free for a pig sty
than let him have it for fifty pounds a year."
"Of the two, I think the pig sty would be
preferable," said Neil. "But come, Alice, as
the wheat is coming in
few moments for a short stroll away from the
tainted atmosphere of Smilin' Tobe's den. I
am glad you have concluded to drive this
scoundrel from our midst," and with his arm
around her waist, they walked leisurely up
the lane, while Tobe threw open the door
SHAMUS ROE.
51
and standing on the threshold, shook his fist
at them. "Before I'm druv away from here
Nale Brandon, I'll put something in your
pipe to smoke," and with an oath he disap-
peared within to console himself with a noggin-
or two of his own poison.
CHAPTER IV.
THE PARTNER.
As Alice and Neil departed for their short
stroll, there might have been heard on the
lower road, the galloping of a fast approach-
ing horse. Nearer and nearer came the pat-
ter of the hoofs, until the sounds ceased, as
the rider drew rein at the door of the old
mill. Without moving in his saddle he called
loudly: "Jim, or Paddy, or anybody." A
man came from the mill in response to the
call, with a pull at his forelock and a low
bow, which greeting was not returned or
even recognized. Dismounting he threw the
reins to the man. "Remove the saddle, give
him a feed of oats and a rub down."
"Yis, yer honor," said the man, as he led the
panting animal to the shed at the rear of the
THE PARTNER.
53
mill. As the equestrian stands removing his
gloves, you see a man short of stature, but
broad of chest and shoulders, long black hair,
with close cropped beard of the same color.
Small, dark, restless eyes-eyes that never
look in yours; never a friend to love, but
always a foe to fear, is Maurice Ronyane,
the partner of honest Jerry Roe.
"Damn the dust," and he beats a tatoo on
the long riding boots with his whip. "I must
have O'Keefe dust me off a bit before I ap-
pear in her ladyship's presence for my an-
swer. Ah! beautiful Alice, when you are
mine, I'll make a clearing out of the mill, be
assured of that," saying which he entered
the whisky perfumed sanctum of Tobe
O'Keefe, just as Alice and Neil returned from
their short stroll, evidently in perfect har-
mony with each other, as Alice was saying:
"Now that I've satisfied you that I am a
woman of business, are you content?"
"Forgive me
"Perfectly," answered Neil.
Alice, for doubting you, but I couldn't sleep
last night, I thought he'd been making love
to you.
""
"Love!" and Alice laughed.
Tobe O'Keefe at that moment almost
54
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
dragged Maurice Ronyane through the door
of the Sack O' Flour, and pointing to the
lovers, said: "There didn't I tell ye."
Ronyane livid with rage, was about to
rush upon them, but Tobe held him back.
"Love," continued Alice. "Why he don't
know how to make love.
"He's too matter of
fact. Yet, with all the encouragement you've
had, he's made more progression in one moon-
light stroll than you have in twenty."
"More progression; how?"
"He asked me to become his wife."
"Maurice Ronyane!"
"Maurice Ronyane."
"And you, Alice. What was your answer?"
"I couldn't answer, I was so dumbfounded."
"But Alice! Alice! Will you become his
wife?" eagerly asked Neil.
Ronyane threw Tobe aside and approached
them. There was an angry light in his small
eyes as he said: "I being the party most
interested, by right of my having asked Miss
Moyne that question first, perhaps you will
kindly allow her to answer me.
22
Alice turned upon the intruder, and with
a look of disdain, exclaimed: "Eavesdrop-
ping, Mr. Ronyane, is not the role of a
*
THE PARTNER.
55
gentleman.
22
I
"It was accidental, I assure you, Alice.
was on my way to your cottage for the an-
swer to a proposal I made you last evening,
when-
وو
"And what answer could ou expect, but
Maurice feeling that he was about to
receive his quietus, interrupted her.
"Stop, I will not receive it in the presence
of a third party." Then turning to Neil:
"Why are you here sir, return to your work."
"I will not stir," replied Neil, "until you
have had your answer."
"Which I will give him. Although highly
honored, I most respectfully decline," and
Alice bowed low to Jerry Roe's partner, while
that worthy bit his nether lip until the blood
came, and with a suppressed oath, faced
Neil Brandon.
"As I have some business with Miss Moyne,
perhaps you will cease your loitering and go
back to your work."
"I am not loitering. I came on business
to Tyler McCabe, the schoolmaster."
"And when you had finished that business
instead of returning to your work, you loit-
ered to make love to Alice Moyne, the
56
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
heiress.
22
"Maurice Ronyane," said Alice indignant-
ly, "how dare you.
"I have the right to censure him.
his master."
I am
"I have no master," and the hot blood
mounted to Neil's brow.
"I pay you for work with Bank of Eng-
land notes, therefore I am your master."
"I deny it, as I repay you with hand and
brain."
The men were dangerously close together,
as Alice came between them.
"Neil Brandon is right," she said. "The
honest working man has no master, save
God." Then in a conciliatory tone: "Mr.
Brandon, your employer, Mr. Ronyane, de-
sires that you return to your duties in the
mill."
"I will return, Miss Moyne, and with a
light heart." And, looking with a smile of
triumph at Ronyane, he entered the mill.
"Your heart will be heavy enough before
I get through with you," said Maurice, as he
followed Neil to the mill door, his face almost
distorted with hatred. Returning to Alice,
he hissed in her ear: "Have you weighed
THE PARTNER.
57
well your refusal of my offer?"
"Why, you know Maurice, I could never
marry you. Are you not my first cousin?"
เ
Pshaw! What of that; cousins marry
every day."
"Aye! But such marriages are registered
above, in letters of blood."
"You love this pauper-working man?"
"I love, with all my heart, this honest
miller."
"Miller! A man without a name.'
99
"Why, Maurice, have you forgotten. Neil
Brandon is his name. Don't you think it a
pretty one?"
"Ah! Alice," and there was a volume of
sympathy in his voice. "Had your dear
mother, on her death bed, ever dreamed
that you would love a common laborer, she
would have thought twice, ere she removed
you from the protection of my mother and
myself and given you to the care of ignorant
Jerry Roe.'
""
"Maurice Ronyane, had my dear mother
on her death bed, ever dreamed that my own
cousin would insult me, by offering me his
hand in marriage, she would ere she thought
once, given me to the care of honest Jerry
58
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
Roe a thousand times over."
"About the lease, shall I have it?" asked
Ronyane angrily.
"Why do you wish to dissolve with Mr.
Roe. You get along well together and the
business is prosperous."
"I have my reasons," Maurice laughed dis-
cordantly. "He has'nt the money to buy, I
have. I must get the lease, or the mill is
closed."
"Indeed!" said Alice. "Remember, Maur-
ice, Jerry Roe is the best miller, and this
one of the best paying mills in Glanmire."
"The very reason I would have it alone. I
tell you Alice, he must buy or sell. When
the lease is renewed there will be but one
name over that door, and that name will be
وو
"Jerry Roe," said Alice with decision.
"Are you mad," said Roe's partner, tremb-
ling with rage, "you've thwarted me once to-
day, beware how you do it again." Shamus
who at that moment, came from the mill,
listened with surprise.
Ignoring the madman's threat, Alice look-
ed him in the face, and said: "Name your
price to Mr. Roe and it shall be paid." She
THE PARTNER.
59
was about to pass him, when he stopped
her.
"Alice, would you league yourself with
these ignorant paupers against your own
blood relations?"
"Blood relations!" and Alice laughed.
"I thought you had forgotten that such
beings existed; let me pass; I have invited a
few friends to dinner, and-
"One moment!"
""
"No, sur, she can't wait; the dinner might
spile," said Shamus, as he came between
them, and faced Ronyane, an action which
made the senior partner quail, as he looked
at the burly figure of the vagabond. "The
way is clear for ye Miss Moyne," continued
Shamus, "but don't forget to put my name
in the pot.
"Be sure, I will not, Shamus," said Alice,
as she went towards the cottage.
"Ah! Mr. Ronyane, the dinners she cooks.
Her an' Molly Duffy, why sur, they'd make
yer mouth wather."
"Why are you not at work."
"Well sur, ye see, I lost half a day. I was
buisy wid some dockiments, havin' sales, an'
stamps put upon thim."
60
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
"Where did you get the stamps? Stole
them from the mill, I dare say.
""
"No sur, I got them out here; they wor
give to me. I don't think Mr. Ronyane, you
had one o' them for a long time; they're call-
ed fourlip stamps. You could'nt buy one o'
them for love or money.
"Tell your uncle I'm in the Sack O' Flour,"
and Ronyane nearly took the hinges off of
Tobe's front door as he entered.
"That ye may stay in the Sack O' Flour
till ye become dough," said Shamus, as he
took a seat at the customers' table, and
called lustily: "Tobe, Tobe O'Keefe?
""
The door opened just wide enough for
Smilin' Tobe to push his head through.
"What are ye shoutin' for?" he asked.
"Ain't it aisy for ye to come in?
""
"Ain't it just as aisy for you to come out?
A blast o' fresh air 'll do ye no harm.
""
"Well what'll ye have?" said Tobe, as he
came out and slapped Shamus on the back.
"The same ould thing?
"Yis," replied Shamus, "The same ould
thing, an the slate."
"Are ye goin' to pay?
"Don't I always pay," answered the vaga-
THE PARTNER.
61
bond with an offended air.
"Oh, indeed ye do! an' don't I always carry
ye as far as ye want to go?"
"Ye do, an' a damn sight farther some
times."
"Ah! Shamus, ye'll always be a boy, sure
there's no hurry for the money.
"
"There is," said Shamus determinedly. "I
want to get out o' the clutches o' the devil,
an' be a man.
""
"Nale Brandon's been prachin' to him,'
said Tobe, as he entered the shebeen.
เ
22
יי
ད
"I've put my foot in it again wid Hannora,
said Shamus, as he rubbed his head. 'I
axed her father to lave her come wid me in
place o' Nancy. She heard me, an' my head
is lighter from loss o' hair."
With a large slate under his arm, and a
glass of liquor in each hand, Tobe came from
his den. Laying the slate on the table, he
held the liquor above his head. "Look
Shamus, look at the number o' bades upon
the liquor."
19
"Yis," said Shamus, "an look at the num-
ber o' figures on that slate. Tobe put the
two glasses on the table and took up the
slate. "But remember, Shamus, this carries
62
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
tin o' my best customers.
There's Nolan an'
Fagin an' O'Malley an' O'Sullivan, an' yis,
an' Roe, eight-an-four-pence-half-penny."
"For one week?" asked the surprised
Shamus.
"Yis, but you needn't pay before-this is
Monday, well before-
""
"Monday!" said Shamus, as he took a
handful of silver from his pocket. "I like
to pay on Monday. There's yer money.
,,
"Thank ye, Shamus," said Tobe as he count-
ed the silver. "Lave me wipe it out," and for
the last time Smilin' Tobe O'Keefe erased the
name of Shamus Roe from his slate. Placing
it on the table, he took up the two glasses
of liquor, handed one to Shamus, and as he
raised the other to his lips said: "Here's to
the wipin' out of all accounts," and at a
gulp he emptied the glass.
"Amen!" said Shamus, as he threw the
contents of his glass on the slate, and in a
moment, with the aid of his coat sleeve, there
was not a name or a figure to be seen on its
smooth surface.
“Ah ! man alive," roared Tobe, snatching
up the slate. "See what you have done.
Ruined the scores of nine min wid the

ROE
THE
SACK
Q'
FLOUR
"Here's to the wipin' out of all accounts." "Amen!" said Shamus.-p. 62.
REED
THE PARTNER.
63
liquor.
22
"An' see what you've done ruined the
homes of twice nine min wid the same stuff."
The noonday bell rang the hour; the old
wheel stopped revolving, and the honest mil-
lers came forth, eager to reach their respective
homes, partake of the midday meal, and en-
joy the hour of rest. "I'm goin' to my din-
ner," said Shamus.
"That it may choke ye," growled Tobe, as
he entered the Sack O' Flour, with his worth-.
less slate. After the millers came Jerry
Roe, Tyler, and Hannora. Shamus tried to
attract her attention, but she passed him by
with the air of a duchess, and followed the
miller and her father into Alice Moyne's
cottage.
"She won't look at me," said Shamus, as
Neil came from the mill, his coat on his arm.
'Are ye comin' in the cottage Nale, or are ye
goin' home to dinner.”
"Neither one," answered Neil, as he threw
his coat on the cart. "Shamus my heart is so
light I can feel it in my throat."
"Can ye. Well mine's so heavy I can feel
it in my shoes.'
22
"Shamus, my boy, Alice Moyne's words
64
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
has made a man of me. Now I can meet my
destiny with closed eyes," and Neil started
for the river's side to give more vent to his
pleasant thoughts.
"Wid yer eyes closed; look out ye don't
fall in a ditch," shouted Shamus, as Neil dis-
appeared at a turn in the road. "Alice
Moyne's words has made a new man of him,
Hannora McCabe's words has made an ould
jackass o' me, but jackasses must ate as well
as other Christians. Bad luck to you, Nancy,"
and the crest-fallen "devil among the girls,
entered the cottage where his name was in
the pot.
22
Tobe, who as usual, had his large ear to
the keyhole, came from his lair as Shamus
disappeared. "Brandon's wild in love, but
I've a plan that'll spile him in her eyes. If
my time is short in the Sack O' Flour, his
time'll be shorter in the mill," and Tobe
actually began to dance with joy when the
voice of Maurice Ronyane stopped him.
"Is he in the mill?" asked Ronyane.
"No," answered Tobe. "Gone down the
road. The fever o' love has so warmed his
blood that he has no fear o' ketchin' could.
See, he left his coat on the cart,
THE PARTNER.
65
"Oh, damn his coat," said Ronyane impa-
tiently.
t
'An' him, an' him," shouted Tobe.
"Oh!
be the varch o' my oath! the very thing,
I can put the money in his coat."
"So you can," said Ronyane, "and that
will be proof positive. I'll follow the hand-
some confidential man and discharge him,
but I'll give him no reason for so doing.'
"9
"Good, that'll be another spoke in his
wheel. Discharged min are disgraced min,
an' ginerally need money to keep them till
they get another job," And Tobe rubbed
his fat hands together until the blood
tingled in them.
"True. I'll keep him away long enough
for you to do the work, but on your life,
don't fail," and the conspirator started in
search of his prey.
"Fail, after what he's dun to me; no fear.
Fail, I'd sind him to the divil if I could, an'
laugh wid joy while the 'ould boy' prodded
him wid his fork;" then looking cautiously
around. "No one about, they're all at dinner.
I've no time to lose," and the arch conspirator
entered the mill.
CHAPTER V.
LITTLE DANNY.
AT the same moment a small figure ap-
peared, and stood in the large window of
the mill loft, and directly over the door
through which Tobe disappeared. It was a
picture in truth, but such a picture. The
figure was that of a boy, perhaps 15 years
old, but looking much older, clad in a faded
blue shirt, a coat with the sleeves turned up,
and ample enough to hold another such as
he, and then button it; a pair of old cour-
droy knee breeches reaching his ankles, his
feet were bare, and the light curling hair on
his well shaped head was its only covering.
The face refined, but pale and pinched as if
from hunger and exposure, while the large
blue eyes of Danny O'Keefe had a look of
LITTLE DANNY.
67
terror in them, as he stood in the window,
gazed across the road at
"The mill is stopped,
"I dunno if they're all
99
in bold relief, and
the Sack O' Flour.
said the small voice.
gone. It looks quiet beyant at the Sack O'
Flour. I hope uncle Tobe is drunk, an'
asleep, for if he ketches me stalein out o'
this 'tis well he'll tan me.”
Just then Tobe emerged from the mill with
a large roll of bank notes in his hand. Danny
with a bound was back in the loft, where
through a knot hole near the window, he
watched his amiable uncle.
"All the money was in the drawer," said
Tobe. "I had to break it open, but that's no
odds. Ah! here's the proof," as he took a note
from the roll. "The torn one pound note,
number three thousand, three hundred and
thirty-three. There's no mistakin' that," and
approaching the cart, he put the money into
the pocket of Neil Brandon's coat. "Now
Mr. Nale Brandon I think we have ye. Ye'll
be likely to give the alarm yerself whin the
stolen money is found in yer own pocket.
Who'll be the most likely to be druv in dis-
grace outside o' Glanmire, you or me," and
with a fiendish chuckle, the thief entered the
68
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
Sack O' Flour, satisfied beyond the shadow
of a doubt, that he had his foe upon the hip.
But Smilin' Tobe reckoned without his host,
for while he was regailing himself with the
contents of a black bottle, and waiting for
the result of his villainy, little Danny was
descending from the loft by means of the
mill door, which stood wide open. As he
reached the ground, he ran behind the cart,
where there was little chance of Tobe seeing
him, should he look through the window of
the shebeen. "My, my," said the frighten-
ed lad. "What a power o' money uncle Tobe
had. He got it out o' the mill, an' said he had
to break the drawer open. For what did he
put it in Nale Brandon's pocket; I dunno, an'
he talked about drivin' him in disgrace out o'
Glanmire. Maybe he put it in there so that
whin 'twas found in the coat, everyone i'd
think Nale was the robber. No, no, Nale
Brandon was always good to me, gave me the
bite, an' the place to sleep, when he, my own
uncle, drove me out in the night an' the
cold." Danny came from behind the cart,
and took the money from the coat. My, oh
my ! what a lot. I'll put it back in the mill.'
As he started for the mill door the voice of
LITTLE DANNY.
69
Tobe was heard, singing, (or trying to sing)
"Nell Flaherty's Drake." As the harsh notes
struck his ear, Danny again ran behind the
cart. 'God help me, I don't know what to
do wid it. If he ketches me wid it, he'll kill
me, an' if it's found in Nale's pocket, he'll be
took up.
I could keep it myself, an' go to
America, away from him, who bates me like
a dog. I will," and he put the money in his
breeches pocket. "Then Nale'll be safe, an'
I'll be gone." As he turned to go, he almost
ran into the arms of Shamus, who had just
left the cottage, and heard his last words.
"Where are ye goin' that ye'll be gon
Danny?"
'Anywhere out o' this, sir," said the boy
trembling with fear. "Up to the haunted
chapel, in the Lover's Lane, where in the
evenin' I hears the beautiful music. Lave
me go, sir, for if Uncle Tobe ketches me,
he'll bate me!"
"If he does, I'll throttle him," replied
Shamus.
"Thin, sur, he'd only bate me the more.
Lave me go, sur, lave me go!"
"Well my poor boy away wid ye." And
Danny ran up the road like a frightened
70
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
deer.
"Oh, look at him run," said Shamus
as he looked after him. "But 'tis no wonder
that he'd run, the poor ill-used crature, for
'tis many's the welt he has on his back from
his blackguard uncle, bad luck to him.
"Oh, yer back, are ye?"
"Yes, like a bad penny," said Neil, who
had just returned, taking his coat from the
cart, and put it on.
"Did ye meet destiny on the road?"
laughed Shamus.
"I did."
"Was yer eyes shut?
22
"They were, but he opened them," bitterly
replied Neil.
"Who!"
"Maurice Ronyane.
29
"How did he open them?" asked Shamus.
"By discharging me.
29
"Discharging you-for what?"
"Because I love, and am beloved," replied
Neil proudly,
"Well, that's a combination he'll never
have anyway!"
"I am commanded to deliver the keys of
the mill to his lordship before the bell
strikes one."
•
LITTLE DANNY.
71
"I wish," said Shamus, "ye'd deliver me
wid the keys."
"Deliver you!"
'Yes, from his evil presence. I'm tired of
workin' for the devil."
"He'll not singe you, Shamus. You're
not in his way," said Neil, as he entered the
mill.
The men, returning from their noonday
repast, began to arrive. They lounged about
in the front of the mill smoking and talking,
while they waited the stroke of one to re-
sume their work. And from the cottage of
Alice Moyne came a merry party, laughing
and chatting, little dreaming there was
villainy in their midst.
"We'll all be there to-morrow night,
Jerry," said the schoolmaster. "An' we'll show
them we're not too ould to shake a leg or
two with the youngest o' them,
وو
Maurice Ronyane had returned and was
talking with Tobe at the Inn door as the
bell struck one. At that moment Neil Bran-
don came rushing from the mill, with the
cry: "The mill has been robbed!"
"Robbed!" came in chorus from all as-
sembled.
72
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
"Yes, of over a hundred pounds," ex-
citedly replied Neil.
"A hundert pounds," echoed Tobe as he
came forward.
"Oh, my! Oh, my! Well, as we all have
our honesty at stake, bein' in an' about the
mill, I think 'tis only fair that we all be
sarched?"
Neil
"Yes," said Ronyane, and let us begin
with a workman discharged for cause.
Brandon."
"Neil Brandon!" And the crimson mount-
ed to the very roots of Alice Moyne's hair,
as she said: "For shame, Maurice Ronyane,
for shame."
"Lave me sarch him!” And as Tobe
advanced, his fat fingers were itching to get
into Neil's coat pocket.
"Stand back," said Neil, and there was a
wicked look in his eyes.
'Stand back, Tobe O'Keefe! I will not
submit to this indignity."
Calmly and proudly Alice Moyne ap-
proached Neil, and placing her arm around
his neck, said: "Neil, for mine, for your
honor's sake, you will submit. Schoolmaster,
you are the oldest man here, search Neil
LITTLE DANNY.
73
Brandon!"
เ
'Well, it goes agin me to do it, but at
your request, an' with his permission I will.
Come Nale boy, don't be afeared.”
"I am an honest man, schoolmaster, and
have no fear," said Neil proudly, as he held
up his arms to be searched.
After a thorough search, the schoolmaster
said with a laugh: "Two shillins, a cigar, an'
a penknife;" and he held them above his
head.
99
With a cry of joy, Alice fell on Neil's
breast. Ronyane turned to Tobe and hissed
in his ear: “Did you do as you promised?
"As I'm a man, I did," answered crest-
fallen Tobe.
Maddened with rage and disappointment,
Ronyane shouted: "Perhaps Jerry Roe, who
is so anxious to buy me out, can account for
this little discrepancy. Search him."
There was a cry of "shame! shame!" from
all.
"Search him, schoolmaster!" cried the baf-
fled conspirator.
"Mr. Ronyane," replied Tyler, "I don't
often swear, but I'm damned if I will! What,
search my old friend. No."
74
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
"Then I will," and Ronyane advanced to
put his threat into execution.
"Don't dar to touch him," said Shamus, as
he jumped in front of his uncle.
Ronyane hesitated as he said: "My money
has been stolen."
"Then go hunt for it somewhere else, for
the thief's name is not Roe," said Shamus
proudly.
"He's afeared, he's afeared !" shouted Tobe
beside himself with rage at being foiled in
his dastardly attempt to convict Neil. "The
money was took. Search him, Mr. Ronyane,
search him, an' I'll help ye.'
""
"If
"Out ye vulture," exclaimed Shamus.
you or yer master do but touch my father's
brother with one o' yer devil's claws, I'll
knock ye both down, an walk upon ye!"
CHAPTER VI.
SNAP-APPLE NIGHT.
About half a mile north of the scene of
the last chapter, and in close proximity to
the Lover's Lane, stands a small, neat cottage,
with a large barn attached. The cottage,
the barn, and the ground on which they
stand is the property of Robert Morrow. As
a poor farmer's boy, Morrow had by thrift
and industry, saved enough to purchase the
picturesque three acres near the Lover's
Lane, to build the neat little cottage, in
which he installed his young wife as mis-
tress, and the barn, to receive the products
of the little farm, and shelter his single
horse, his cow, and a few pigs. The
Morrow's prospered. Three children, in as
many years' were born to them in their
76
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
humble, happy home, where they might be
living to day had not an elder brother of
Morrow's, a bachelor, emigrated to America
years before, and dying, left to Robert all
his earthly possessions, a large farm and a
snug sum of money, with the proviso, that
he (Robert) would make that glorious land
his future home.
Before emigrating to make his home under
the Stars and Stripes, and where many
a true
true Irish heart beats to-day, Morrow,
for a nominal sum, rented his little estate
to a friend named Micheal Grady, a
stonemason by trade, with a wife and two
daughters. Grady thought he could make
a success of cultivating the sod, but he
soon discovered that there was quite a
difference between building a stone wall
and handling a plow. So, in a short time
the three acres, so well kept by Robert
Morrow, became a wilderness of weeds.
time went on, Grady altogether neglected
the little farm, sold his only horse, bought
a small boat with the money and devoted
his time to fishing, by which means he made
a sorry living for his family. But his poor
wife seldom complained, for she loved the
As
SNAP-APPLE NIGHT.
77
shiftless fellow.
One dark night Grady, with a boon com-
panion, was fishing mid-stream in the Lee,
and perhaps having taken a taste too much,
neglected to light the signal lamp. A
steamer plying between Cork and Queens-
town, ran into the boat containing the two
men and made splinters of it. Next day
both bodies were found. Grady's on a
shutter was taken home to the heart-broken
widow and children, and in the barn (where
many a snap-apple-night since the boys and
girls of the neighborhood danced to the
music of Barney Delaney's pipes), all
that was mortal of Micheal Grady was laid,
and over him was held one of the largest
wakes that was ever heard of in Glanmire.
For with all his faults "Mike" had many
friends.
Soon after the funeral, Nancy Grady, the
eldest daughter, who had a little education,
wrote to Robert Morrow informing him of
their sad bereavement and asking what
disposition should be made of his property
in Ireland, as now that their protector was
gone, they would have little means to pay
rent.
78
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
-66
Before the grass was green on poor
Mike's" grave came an answer from the
big-hearted man in America. After deeply
sympathizing with them, he ended by say-
ing: "As long as the ould mother lives, lave
her stay in the little cottage near the
Lover's Lane, rint free. As I have enough,
an' to spare, enclosed find a trifle to keep
the pot boilin' for the present." (The trifle
enclosed was an order for twenty pounds.)
Many a time since has Mrs. Grady said,
while gossiping with the neighbors: "Thanks
be to God, an' the noble man across the say,
I have the roof to cover my head, an' am not
wantin' for the bite, or the sup. Nancy is
gettin' good pay below in Cork as a same-
stress. Mary is nursin' childre' in the middle
road, an' I goes out now an' thin, to do a bit
o' washin' for the quality.
""
The evening subsequent to the robbery at
Jerry Roe's mill, was "All Hollow E'en,” or
Snap-apple night, as it is best known by the
peasantry of the south of Ireland.
The place selected on this occasion, where-
in to hold the festivities, was Mrs. Grady's
barn. Provisions contributed by each invited
guest, (as is the custom) were sent in advance
SNAP-APPLE NIGHT.
79
thereby obviating the necessity of the hostess
laying out a penny for the supper to be par-
taken of by the hungry pleasure seekers.
Each girl must bring a sheaf of wheat; each
young man a flail and a bag, (large or small)
of apples; and every married man or woman,
tallow candles, as many as they please, thus
adding to the widow's store for the winter
many bushels of wheat, bags of apples, and
dozens of candles.
About dusk on the evening in question,
Mrs. Grady, short of stature, but broad of
girth, gray-haired, and red-faced, was hard
at work decorating the barn with holly and
ivy. She was assisted by her two daughters,
Mary and Nancy, buxom colleens of about
18 and 20 years, neither of whom could lay
claim to good looks, but were known the
county through as the good-hearted, good-
tempered, and good-humored Grady girls.
The widow was mounted on a ladder, and
with hammer and nails, was putting in its
proper place, over the door of the barn, a
wreath of glossy green leaves, in the center
of which was a sprig of mistletoe.
"There,"
said the proud mother, as she hit the last
nail on the head, ""Tis done. Now girls ye
•
80
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
can wish, an' the first man that comes in the
dure, ye can fight for."
"I'll fight for no man," said Nancy, with a
curl of the lip, as she assisted her mother
from the ladder, "They're'll be many a one
come under that wrathe before the man I
want comes."
"Oh, I suppose so; did Shamus Roe tell ye
he'd come late," asked the widow with a good,
natured laugh.
"He tould me he'd come anyway," replied
Nancy.
Mary, who had been looking through the
window saw, just outside, the face of Con
Fagin, for whom she had a warm corner in
her heart, and being sure he'd be the first to
enter, exclaimed: "Quick mother, quick, take
away the ladder, I've made my wish!" At
that moment the door opened, and with a
"God save all here," Barney Delaney, the
piper, entered.
"God save ye, kindly sur," responded the
widow.
Nancy burst out laughing, while poor
Mary felt like sinking through the floor.
"Did ye get yer wish, Mary?" tantalizily
asked Nancy.
SNAP-APPLE NIGHT.
81
"No," replied Mary quietly. "But I may
get mine sooner than you will yours."
"Ah, sure dear, I was only tazin' ye a
trifle. May ye get yer wish in this world,
an' a pair o' white wings in the nixt," said
Nancy, as she put her arm around her sister's
neck.
6
22
"May the Lord keep all here from harm,
said Con Fagan, as he entered and closed the
door behind him,
"Amen," devoutly answered Mrs. Grady.
Con was a tall ungainly young man, with
a good-looking face, and a pair of large gray
eyes that were brim full of mischief.
"Now's yer time, Mary," said Nancy. "Be
the fust to come in the dure after him, an'
he's yours.
29
"Do ye think he is Nancy?" asked poor
innocent Mary.
"Of course he is. Away wid ye, or some
other girl'll be before ye.
99
Mary ran through the open door leading
from the barn to the kitchen, and in a
moment entered from the outside and under
the legendary mistletoe.
"Look Con," said Nancy, "See who came
under the mistletoe after ye." Con looked
1
*
82
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
A
and blushed crimson.
"Where wor ye, Mary ?" asked Mrs. Grady.
"Where was I mother?" Mary was con-
fused. "Oh, I was-yis-I wint to the well
for wather."
"Where is the wather, Allanna."
"Why you know mother, 'tis beyant in the
well."
"But ye could'nt bring the well wid ye,
an' ye did'nt bring the wather."
"Never mind, mother," said Nancy. "She
brought that which has done her more good.
She brought the blush of pleasure to Con
Fagin's face when he saw who came under
the wrathe after him. "Con blushed deeper,
while Mary hung her head.
"Ah," sighed the widow. "Girls will be
girls; more's the pity.”
"Yis mam, 'tis a pity," chimed in Barney,
"but sure, we could'nt all be boys."
22
"True for ye, Mr. Delaney," replied Mrs.
Grady. "Mary, do you stay here an' attind
to the company, while Nancy helps me wid
the supper.
Nancy followed her mother
into the kitchen. Outside shouts of joyous
laughter heralded the approach of at least
twelve or fifteen couple, bent on divarshun.
SNAP-APPLE NIGHT.
83
T
The first to enter under the magic wreath
was Nelly O'Brien, followed by Mike Duffy;
next came Kitty Maloney, followed by her
shadow, jealous Tom Coleman. After fol-
lowed pretty Nora Brennan, the coquette of
the neighborhood; then the scrimmage began,
such scrougeing, schuffling, pulling and
hauling, (all good naturedly) among the boys,
to see who would be the first to enter after
the little beauty. In the scramble lame
Dinny Grogan was thrown through the door
and fell at the feet of the handsome Nora,
much to her digust, as she expected to see
some one else make his way to that coveted
spot. After all had entered and quiet was
restored, the girls took off their cloaks and
hats, and hung them on nails driven in the
wall for that purpose. Then came the thrash-
ing of the wheat. Each girl lays her sheaf of
wheat in front of the young man she admires
or loves, as the case may be. If he accepts,
(it is entirely optional with him) he acknow-
ledges the compliment by kissing her. She
then unbinds the sheaf and places it on a
large sheet, which is spread in the center of
the floor, there to await the fate, at her
lover's hands, of any one who dares insult
84
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
her, namely a d-n good thrashing.
Often
three or four girls lay their sheafs at the feet
of some Blarney tongued flatterer, who per-
haps has been making love to all of them.
This puts an end to the "How happy could
I be with either, were 'tother dear charmer
away" as of course he can only accept one,
which he must do then and there. The favored
colleen rises with a smile of triumph and gazes
at her disappointed rivals, who crestfallen
retire, only to be laughed at and teased by
all assembled. If there happened to be more
boys than girls at the gathering, the sheafs
that went begging were thrashed the next
day by the boys.
Two stalwart fellows stood opposite each
other in the center of the floor and in their
shirt-sleeves; then as the boys and girls shout-
ed, and the lively music came from the bag
under Barney Delaney's arm, each swing of
the flail brought the golden grain from the
large ripe ears.
A shout of welcome greeted Alice Moyne,
as she entered, accompanied by the miller of
Glanmire.
"The Lord bring a blessin' upon all here,'
said Jerry, as he entered.
SNAP-APPLE NIGHT.
85
"The same to you Mr. Roe, an' Miss Alice,"
came in chorus from all.
Jerry placed Alice Moyne's sheaf in the
corner, and she having removed her large
heavy cloak, he hung it up.
"That's right, boys!" exclaimed the miller,
"Thrash away, help the poor widow, an'
bring good luck to yerselves." Several girls
brought sheafs and laid them at the miller's
feet. "I'll take yours Nelly." The old man
kissed her and took off his coat.
"What are you going to do, Mr. Roe?"
asked Alice.
"I'm goin' to thrash my shafe," replied
Jerry.
"Thrash your sheaf. Why! What do you
mean?" and Alice looked surprised.
"Ah! of course you don't know. This is
the fust gatherin' of the kind ye wor ever at
on Snap-apple night. Wait, dear, an' by-me-
by ye'll see the boys an' girls douse in the tub
an' snap for the apples. Ye see, Alice, 'tis
the custom for every girl who visits the wid-
ow's house on this night, to bring wid her a
shafe o'whate, an for every man to thrash
That brings luck to her who gives, an'
him who thrashes, an' helps the poor widow
one.
86
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
through the winter."
"Pshaw!" said Alice poutingly, "we might
have brought several sheafs.”
"So we might," replied Jerry, "but that
would spile the charm."
"Charm! What charm?"
"Well, ye see, Alice, if a girl brings more
than one, that shows that she has two strings
to her bow, an' if a man thrashes more than
one, he'll have more than one wife."
"I wish I had brought an odd one for you.
to thrash," laughed Alice.
"No, no, Alice, one was enough for me.
God rest her soul. Come, Nelly, give me the
flail, an' Grogan do you get forninst me."
Little Dinny came forward. "I have no
shafe, Mr. Roe."
"Here girls, some one o' ye give Dinny a
shafe," commanded Jerry.
For a moment none of the girls moved. At
length, Betty Nolan, tall, gaunt, not fair, but
forty, advanced and laid her sheaf at Grogan's
feet, at which action there was a loud laugh.
"I'm not high enough to kiss ye," said
Dinny looking up at her.
"Thin get a chair, an' maybe ye will," re-
plied Betty, not wishing to forgo her right
SNAP-APPLE NIGHT.
87
to the act of osculation. Chairs, stools and
benches were brought forward to give Dinny
the requisite height, to the accompaniment
of Barney's pipes, and such exclaimations as
"Good boy, Dinny," "Take care she don't
swallow ye."""Tis the grate courage ye
have," etc. Long Betty Nolan's purple lips
were kissed for the first time since her angel
mother performed that office. As soon as
Grogan wiped the dew from his mouth, he
took off his coat and began with Jerry to
swing the flail. "Poor old man," said Alice
to herself, watching Jerry Roe. "Perhaps it
is lucky he has only one sheaf to thrash. I'm
afraid that will be too much for him."
The voice of Shamus Roe was heard out-
side. "Hould Nancy, schoolmaster, hould
her!" he shouted, "Or she'll go in the well.'
66
""
'Well, if she does, I'll not go wid her,"
said Hannora, as he entered the barn. There
was a short respite for Jerry and Dinny
when Hannora entered, as all ran to welcome
her.
"Yer here soon, Alice," said Hannora, as
she placed her sheaf in the corner, and re-
moved her hat and cloak. "Where's Nale?"
"Angry with me," replied Alice, "And
88
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
won't come.'
,,
"Angry wid ye.
What for?""
"Because I insisted on his being searched
yesterday. I only did it to prove to Maurice
Ronyane that he was innocent. Don't you
think I did right, Hannora?"
"Of course ye did," answered Hannora.
Jerry and Dinny had resumed their labor
as Shamus Roe swung the door open. "God
save all here, barrin' the cat," said the smil-
ing vagabond, as he entered, followed by
Tyler McCabe, the schoolmaster.
"The same to you, an' the schoolmaster.
'Tis welcome ye are," came in unison from
all.
"More power to ye, Uncle Jerry, to swing
the flail," and Shamus slapped the miller on
the back.
,,
"Ah! indeed," said Jerry, throwing the
flail aside. "Tis little power is left in me,
Shamus. A minute more an' the flail i'd be
swingin' me. At this there was a general
laugh. Alice, Hannora and several girls
brought sheafs and laid them before Shamus
and the schoolmaster.
"Oh! schoolmaster, will ye look!” said Sha-
mus, "all waitin' to be thrashed."
SNAP-APPLE NIGHT.
89
"Who, the girls? No, Shamus, it goes agin
me to do that, but it's many the boy I've
thrashed for being late."
"Then to plaze the girls you must thrash
the whate. Whisper, schoolmaster, that's po-
etry, but don't tell anyone."
"I won't, Shamus," and Tyler laughed.
"I'll take yours, Hannora," said Shamus, as
he removed his coat.
"And I'll take yours Alice," said Tyler,
"although I'm afeared the strength isn't in
me to bring many grains out of it." After
the customary kiss, Shamus smacked his lips
and said: "That puts a power o' strength
into me.
Come, schoolmaster, stand opposit
me there, an' I'll bring the limpid strame
upon yer brow.'
,,
"Well as long as ye don't bring yer flail
upon my toe, I don't care," replied the school-
master. With shouts of laughter, words of
encouragement, and the playing of the pipes,
the men began their task. After a minute
or two, Tyler was blowing hard and fast.
"The flail is harder to handle than the birch.
Ain't it, schoolmaster?" laughed Shamus.
"Well, I've-I've han-handled bo-both
purty well in my-my time, but I'm too oul-
:
90
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
C
ould for ye, Sham-Shamus," and Tyler
stopped.
"Ah thin, I'm not too ould for him," said
Hannora, as she took the flail from Tyler,
and faced Shamus.
"No," said Shamus leaning on his flail,
and looking at her, "Yer just the right age,
Hannora; about the same age my mother was
whin she got married."
"I was'nt talkin' about marriage," said
Hannora, with a pout.
"No, but I was," replied Shamus.
"Yer always talkin' nonsense," said Han-
nora, with a toss of her head.
"Be my conscience," laughed Shamus.
"Maybe 'tis no nonsense ye'll find it, whin
ye put yer head in the noose."
"Well, I'l take care that your'e not the
hangman anyway," and Hannora slapped his
face good and strong. In the midst of a
roar of laughter Mrs. Grady entered from
the kitchen.
"Ah, wisha, 'tis welcome ye are, one an'
all," said the old lady, as she advanced and
shook hands with Alice and Hannora.
"Miss Moyne, an' Hannora McCabe, 'tis
honored the ould barn should be, to have ye
SNAP-APPLE NIGHT.
91
7
both in it. Oh, Musha Schoolmaster, 'tis
young yer lookin'. If I was'nt so ould, 'tis
my cap I'd be settin' for ye myself."
"Look out," said Shamus to Hannora,
"that he don't make Mrs. Grady yer step-
mother."
"Look out for yerself," answered Hannora,
"that you don't make Mrs. Grady yer mother-
in-law."
"An' Jurry Roe, an' Shamus," continued
the widow. "Well, the Lord be praised for
all our friends. Whisper Shamus." She drew
him aside; "Nancy is in the kitchen."
6
•Well, bad luck to her," said Shamus,
"How did she get there? I left her tied to the
cart awhile ago.
""
"Is it my Nancy tied to a cart?" and Mrs.
Grady looked at him in astonishment.
"Where else i'd she be tied," replied Sha-
mus.
"Only where she gets plinty to ate.
"Is it my Nancy ate out of a cart!" shouted
Mrs. Grady. Alice and Hannora ran to
her.
"What is it? What ails ye?" asked Han-
nora. "What made ye screech?"
"Why wouldn't I screech, when that vil-
lain says that my Nancy is outside tied to a
92
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
cart, an' aitin' out of it."
"Your Nancy?" and Shamus laughed. "Ah!
Mrs. Grady, I was spakin' about the horse, I
wasn't thinkin' o' your Nancy."
"Oh! thin I wish she could forget as aisy
an' not be thinkin' o' you. Look Hannora
an' Miss Moyne, ever since he was here last
Sunday Nancy does nothing but mope. Not
a morsel does she ate, an' hardly spakes, but
I suppose the love that's in her for this en-
gagin' vagabone has made her dumb."
"I wish to the Lord," said Shamus aside,
"that something i'd make you dumb."
"So ye engagin' vagabone," said Hannora,
as she seized Shamus by the ear and dragged
him towards her, "that's how ye wor tryin'
the flure for the dance to-night. Ah? I
wish I had howld o' yer hair.”
"An' I wish I had a howld o' that ould
woman's tongue," said Shamus as he released
his ear from between Hannora's thumb and
finger. "Come, Mrs. Grady, he continued,
"come put the apples in the tub, an' lave us
have a douse."
"Time enough," replied the widow. "Wait
till I tell ye.
27
"Ah! ye've tould enough to-night," said
SNAP-APPLE NIGHT.
93
Shamus.
"No!" exclaimed Hannora, "Not half
enough, go on Mrs. Grady."
"Abby Creigh is there," and Mrs. Grady
pointed towards the kitchen.
The mention of that name brought all to
their feet, and Abby Creigh, was whisper-
ed from one to the other. "Yis," continued
Mrs. Grady. "She's beyant sittin' by the hob
in the kitchen. Ah, poor crature, I well re-
mimber the time, when she did'nt have to
come for a hate o' the fire, or the bite to ate at
a neighbor's house, but that was before his
riverence, her brother Owen, was murdered.
The Lord a' marcy on him.”
"Amen!" came from all present.
"I thought," said Tyler McCabe, "that she
was in the mad house."
"She was," replied the widow, "but may-
be they druv her out, whin she had no money
to pay, poor thing.
""
"More likely she escaped," said Tyler, "but
I dare say she's harmless."
"Quiet as a lamb," replied Mrs. Grady.
"Ah, it was a sad day when some beast in
human form broke up that happy home by
murdering a worthy man and sending her
94
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
وو
forth into the cold world bereft of her reason,
and tears came into the eyes of the school-
master.
“That he may never prosper, whoever he
is," exclaimed the miller.
"Well he would'nt, if I could ketch him,
said Shamus.
""
"That's a vain hope now," said Tyler.
"It's over two years since the sacrilegious
wretch broke into the sacred edifice and
murdered the servant of the Lord."
"Do you think Abby witnessed the deed?"
asked Alice.
"Not likely,” replied the schoolmaster, "or
he would have ended her."
"Maybe 'twould have been the best for
poor Abby if he had, bad luck to him," said
Shamus.
เ
He only knows what is best," and the
schoolmaster pointed upward.
"My theory has always been, that hearing
her brother's cry for help, Abby ran to his
assistance (but too late) and at her ap-
proach the scoundrel fled. At sight of the
priest's face, her reason must have joined
his spirit. The next morning being Sunday,
the first to arrive at the chapel found Abby
SNAP-APPLE NIGHT.
95
Creigh kneeling beside Father Owen, her
mind as dead as his body.
99
"More's the pity," wailed Mrs. Grady.
"Before that day she was the life an' soul
of Glanmire, for she could sing like a bird
an' play upon the organ like a' angel."
"Did ye ever hear one play?" asked
Shamus. At this there was a suppressed
laugh as the near presence of mad Abby
Creigh had dampened the spirits of all assem-
bled.
27
"Ah, don't be botherin' me, Shamus Roe,
replied Mrs. Grady, "but lave me tell my
story."
'She's wound up for the night now,
laughed Shamus.
"When she kep house for his riverence in
the cottage nixt dure to the chapel-
""
"The cottage and the chapel are in ruins
now," interrupted Tyler, "and I don't believe
a living soul has entered either one since he
was buried.
"Small blame to them," replied the widow.
"The chapel's haunted. Mind
Mind ye, I never
repate what I hear."
"No, mam," said Shamus, 'ye don't unless
ye have some one to listen to ye."
96
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
"Shamus Roe, I'm the last one to gossip."
"Indeed ye are mam," replied Shamus.
"Always the last one."
"Whisper;" and the widow assumed an air
of mystery, as all gathered around her. "The
travelers that do be comin' through Glanmire
from Cork, or Queenstown, says that lately
they hears strange noises in the chapel. One
o' them saw the ghost o' Father Owen, (the
Lord betune us an all harm) and the old lady
made the sign of the cross, "standin' in the
windy, an' another heard the ould organ
playin' beautiful tunes."
99
"Ah! woman, what are ye talkin' about,'
exclaimed Tyler. "Come Shamus, give us a
song to rise the spirits in us."
"I will, schoolmaster, or to drive them
away,” replied Shamus, or Mrs. Grady'll have
all the ghosts from the haunted chapel snap-
pin' at the apples, an' dancin' jigs wid us
in five minutes," and Shamus laughed.
"Ye may laugh at the spirits, Shamus Roe,"
said Mrs. Grady, "but 'tis far away from the
haunted chapel ye'll keep. Ye haven't the
courage to go there."
"No, mam; I haven't. It'll take all the
courage I have to keep me away from the
SNAP-APPLE NIGHT.
97
spirits beyant at the Sack O' Flour." There
was a laugh, and loud demands for the prom-
ised song, when after much coaxing, the sil-
ver-tongued vagabond sang the following:
"THE GIRLS SAY I'M FULL OF THE BLARNEY.'
“I'm a tight Irish boy from the town of Fermoy,
The most beautiful place ever seen;
22
There the colleens are coy, an' the men full of joy,
And the fields are so lovely and green.
Of course ye'll all ask why I left that fine place,
But first let me say I'm called Barney;
I left, bekase there I could never get pace,
For the girls say I'm full of the blarney."
"It's there ye'll find maids of all classes and grades,
Some lean, an' some short, an' some tall ;
Some stout an' some thin, an' some, ugly as sin,
But I promised to marry them all.
There's Bridget McGee, an' Judy McKee,
Fat Nance, and a widow called Kearney,
An' little Nell Fay, used to smile when she'd say :
'Ye blackgard, yer full of the blarney.
"So after a spell, when they fonnd out the sell,
They all came to know who I'd marry,
'Twas more fun than a fair, an' such pulling of hair,
So I thought it was no place to tarry.
Fat Nance, full of spite, said for me she would fight,
An' blackened the eye of Miss Kearney;
An' little Nell sighed, an' poor Judy she cried;
An' they all said: Bad luck to his blarney.
NOTE-The above song, words and music, by Con T. Mur-
phy, is published by Balmer & Weber, St. Louis, Mo.
98
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
After Shamus Roe's song and the applause
had subsided, Con Fagin lowered a large hoop
that was suspended from the roof in the cen-
ter of the barn. Around this hoop were placed
alternately and about three inches apart, an
apple and a short piece of lighted candle, so
with your hands behind your back, the hoop
revolving, and you snapping at the articles
thereon, it was a difficult matter to know
whether you'd get your mouth full of fruit or
of tallow. As Con was lighting the candles
on the hoop, and Mary was putting the apples
into a large tub of water, to be douced for,
Mrs. Grady called Shamus aside, and said,
with a wink and a prod of her elbow in his
ribs: "Nancy i'd be here only she's gettin'
the supper. For the last twinty minutes I've
had her over the frying pan."
"Yis mam, an' for the last twinty minutes.
ye had me in it," said Shamus, as he walked
away from her.
""
"Now boys an' girls, douce in the tub, an'
snap at the apples to yer heart's content,
while I go an' see that the supper don't spile,
and Mrs. Grady entered the kitchen for that
laudable purpose. Barney squeezed the bag,
and with shouts and laughter the boys and
SNAP-APPLE NIGHT.
99
girls, (young and old), douced in the tub
and snapped at the apples. The fun was at
its height when the door opened and Maur-
ice Ronyane entered. He looked on for a
moment unobserved, and then-"Foolish,
but enjoyable I dare say," was his comment.
At sound of his voice, there was a lull in the
merry-making, as all gazed at the intruder.
"A very pretty picture upon my word,"
said Jerry Roe's partner.
"Yis," replied Shamus, "An' 'tis a grate
pity a cloud came in the background to spile
it."
"Shamus Roe!" exclaimed Ronyane, ad-
vancing, "take care!"
"I will," said Shamus, putting his arms
around Alice and Hannora.
"I'll take care of all I hould dear, while
your'e around."
"I have a few words to say to Miss Moyne.
"If she wants to hear them, yis, if not, no,'
and Shamus drew Alice closer to his side.
""
99
"I will hear what he has to say Shamus,"
said Alice. Shamus withdrew his arm from
around her waist, as Mrs. Grady's voice was
heard calling all to supper. The guests
passed through Mrs. Grady's kitchen, into
100 THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
the cosy sitting room where the table was
spread.
"Must I leave her wid him?" asked Shamus
of Hannora. "Don't ye think I'd better wait."
"Wait, an' break a poor girl's heart,"
laughed Hannora.
"What girl's heart?" asked Shamus.
"Nancy's, ye engagin' vagabone. Don't ye
know she's waitin' for ye inside," and push-
ing Shamus into the kitchen, Hannora, full
of laughter, followed him.
"Why are you here, and what have you to
say to me?" inquired Alice of Maurice Ro-
nyane.
"I am here because I knew I should find
you here, and to ask you if you thought well
of what you said to me yesterday."
,,
"I have given it all the thought it requires.
"And you will throw me aside for a man
who is accused of theft."
"But who is as innocent as I am, and you
know it."
"I do not know it."
"Ah, Maurice Ronyane, it is a cowardly
revenge for a rival to try and blast the good
name of the favored one by such a foul
accusation."
SNAP-APPLE NIGHT.
101
"I do not recognize him as a rival," sneer-
ed Ronyane. "He is a thief."
"You would not dare to tell him so.
"I would. Why is he not here?"
""
“Because—” and the hot blood rushed to
the face of Alice Moyne, as she with
bowed head, answered: "that is his affair."
"I will tell you. Because he would not dare
to mingle with honest men.
""
"That is false, being an honest man him-
self. Is this all you have to say to me?"
"No, I must have the lease of the mill."
Must have it," and Alice laughed.
"Yes! must,” replied Ronayne with decis-
ion.
"And so you shall, if the firm remains as
it is."
"I must have the mill alone."
"Impossible to have the mill alone, when
you cannot have the lease."
"Who will prevent me?"
"I will!" answered Alice quietly."
"By what right?
""
"A proprietary one, I being owner of the
mill.'
""
"Suppose I should deny that?"
"Then, I would laugh at you, and say you
102
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
!
were mad.'
""
"Listen to me, Alice Moyne. What if I
were, to tell you that your father and mother
were never married. That you are a child of
shame."
"I would say you lied, you cowardly scoun-
drel! The record of their marriage is in the
little chapel, in Lover's Lane.”
"Was there, you mean," laughed Maurice
Ronyane, "if indeed such a document ever
existed."
"Is there," replied Alice indignantly, "and
as God is just, such document does exist.
Why it was only a moment ago the good
schoolmaster said no living soul had entered
the little chapel since the holy priest who
made my father and mother one was murder-
ed."
"Well, since you are so positive that such
a record does exist, I will give you until the
day after to-morrow to produce it. Then if
you fail, what proof can you offer that my
words are not true?"
"The best," and a holy light shone in the
beautiful eyes of Alice Moyne. "My implicit
faith in the honor of your father's sister-my
angel mother."
SNAP-APPLE NIGHT
103
"Such proof would hardly be accepted in
a court of justice," laughed Ronyane.
"Ah! Maurice Ronyane, you lord it well
over a defenceless girl. God forgive me, for
the first time in my life I wish I were a
man.
"Well, and if you were, what would you
do?"
"What would I do?" replied Alice. And
the coward winced as she continued. "I
would horsewhip you from the little chapel
in the Lover's Lane, where my father and
mother were married, to the churchyard
where they lie in peace, and there above
their graves, upon your knees, make you
beg their pardon. Shame upon you, shame!"
And she left the depraved scoundrel to his
thoughts, while she entered Mrs. Grady's
humble sitting room, to mingle with the
honest hearts assembled there.
"I am afraid of her," said Ronyane.
"Women who don't cry are hard to fight."
เ
'True for ye," said Tobe O'Keefe, who
had just entered, dressed like a jumping
jack.
"What brings you here?" inquired Mau-
rice.
104
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
"Fun, of course," replied Tobe. "Are you
enjoyin' yerself?"
"Oh! hugely," answered Ronyane. "And
I think I've made it pleasant for others."
"It's a way ye have," laughed the smiler.
"I should think this would be the last
place you'd come," said Ronyane.
"Don't ye
"No, the fust," replied Tobe.
see, if I was to stay away to-night above all
nights, some one when they're talkin' over
the robbery might be unkind enough to say
I done it.
"That would be unkind," laughed Ro-
nyane; "No matter, we've failed in our pur-
pose by some one out-doing us."
"That's what bothers me entirely.
could have taken it out o' the coat?"
Who
"Perhaps it was never placed in the coat."
"Ah, Mr. Ronyane," whined the syco-
phant, "would ye doubt my honesty?"
"I know you, Tobe O'Keefe, and I know
that you are fond of money.
97
"Oh, I am, I am, but I'm fonder of re-
venge."
"I have a plan, which, if successful, will
give us money and revenge.
"Ye have, what is it, what is it?" and a
SNAP-APPLE NIGHT.
105
smile illuminated the broad features of Tobe.
"One that will make Alice Moyne wish
she had never been born, and Neil Brandon
rue the day he ever loved her, for the fellow
is proud."
"His pride was taken down a peg yister-
day," laughed Tobe.
"And for that reason," replied Ronyane,
"he will never rest until he discovers who
took the money from the mill."
"Ah thin, my prayer is, that he may never
rest," said Tobe.
"Your prayer," and Ronyane laughed.
'What the devil good is your prayer; scheme-
ing is more in your way; listen to me." Had
Maurice Ronyane looked over his shoulder,
he would have hesitated er'e he had made
the large ear of Tobe O'Keefe the recipient
of his villainous scheme. A woman stood
just inside the kitchen door. She was clad
in a gown of dark coarse stuff, with a plaid
shawl over her head and held so as to almost
conceal her face, a pair of large black glassy
eyes gazed at the conspirators. As Ronyane,
entirely ignorant of the presence of a third
party, continued: "The record of the mar-
riage of Alice Moyne's father and mother
106
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
must be destroyed."
"Destroyed! For what?" asked Tobe.
"Can't you see! No marriage; no heiress."
"Oh! I see, I see," and O'Keefe became in-
terested.
"I am the next of kin."
"So ye are," said Tobe, a new light dawn-
ing upon him. "My My! what a head ye
have upon ye; fit for parliment. Where's
the record to be found?"
"In the ruined chapel in Lover's Lane."
Tobe shuddered. At mention of the ruined
chapel, a flash of intelligence shone in the
sunken eyes of poor unfortunate mad Abby
Creigh as she noiselessly opened the barn
door and went out into the night.
"Who's to go in the chapel for it?" asked
Tobe.
"You are."
"No, no, no!" and the miserable wretch
trembled with fear. "I'll not go near the
haunted chapel. I'm afeared."
"And I'm afeared, if you don't, you'll lose
the Sack O' Flour."
"Whin, whin is it to be done?" gasped the
cowardly scoundrel. "To-night is it?"
"No! to-morrow night." Tobe gave a sigh
SNAP-APPLE NIGHT.
107
of relief, as Ronyane continued: "There
will be less chance of stragglers in the Lover's
Lane, as they will be sleeping off the effects
this night's fun. "Twere best we were not
seen here together. Go down the road and re-
turn when they come back from supper.
It
will look as though you had just arrived."
"I hardly think they'll hail my arrival wid
joy," sneered Tobe.
"No matter how they receive you, make
yourself agreeable if you can.'
"I'll try," replied Tobe, opening the door to
go out. As he crossed the threshold he utter-
ed an oath and called Ronyane to his side.
“Oh, will ye look! Little Danny, the
villain, an' beckonin' to some one through
the windy. Who can it be, I dunno."
"Alice Moyne of course," replied Ronyane.
"I'll stake my life he has a message for her
from Brandon.”
"He's comin'," said Tobe, as they re-entered
the barn and closed the door. "Lave us hide,
an' maybe we'll find out what he's here for."
And the two worthies concealed themselves
under the well-thrashed straw in the corner,
there to await events.
CHAPTER VII.
THE FAIRY'S GIFT TO ALICE MOYNE.
Pale, lean and hungry looking, as when he
took the money from Neil Brandon's coat
pocket, little Danny O'Keefe entered the barn
and looked cautiously around. "There's no
one here, barrin' Mr. Delaney's pipes. I wish
I could play a tune upon thim, but sure there
isn't wind enough in me to fill the bag," said
the little fellow, as he picked up a flail. "I'm
very cowld, maybe if I was to give the straw
in the corner beyant a good flailin' 'twould
warm me." There was a perceptible move-
ment of the aforesaid straw. "No, they
might hear me inside, an' that would spile it
all, as I must see Alice alone," and he laid
the flail aside. "I'm sorry she did'nt see me
through the windy. I dunno what to do wid
THE FAIRY'S GIFT TO ALICE. 109
this piece o' paper Nale gave me to give to
her. Poor Nale. I met him above by the
haunted chapel. I was goin' to give him the
money, but he looked so black an' wild that
I thought if I did maybe he'd have me tuck
up, an' thin the Lord help me. I'll give it to
Alice, an' she can give it to him. Nale tould
me to lave no one see me give her this piece
o' paper, but how can I do it, whin I can't
find her be herself here. Why did'nt she
look through the windy. Well, I suppose I
must wait below at her cottage 'till she comes
home."
As he turned to go, his eyes fell on
the row of cloaks hanging on the wall. "Oh,
there's her cloak, I know it well, for 'tis
many the pinny she gave me out o' the pocket
of it, an' is'nt many's the pinny I can put
back in it now. The fairies do be out to-
night, an' she'll think 'tis one o' them. Oh,
but 'tis funny takin' the money out o' Nale's
pocket an' puttin' it in her's, an' won't they
both laugh, whin she gives it to him." As he
put his hand in Alice Moyne's cloak pocket,
he found her handkerchief. "I'll tie it up
in this, an' put Nale's paper on top;" and
standing within a foot of the real culprits, he
tied the stolen money in the dainty handker-
110
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
chief of Alice Moyne. "There," said he, as
he put the small bundle in the pocket of the
cloak with Neil Brandon's note on top.
เเ
I
""
'Now my mind is aisy, for Nale'll get it.
thought I'd go to America, but I was afeared
I'd be axed where I got so much money.
Just then the voice of Hannora McCabe was
heard singing "The Pretty Girl Milking her
Cow." "Ah, 'tis lashins o' fun they're havin'
in there," and the tears came into the poor
boy's eyes.
"God help me, I have no snap-
apple night any more. I'd like to have a
douce for one o' them apples," as he looked
at the tempting fruit floating on the water
in the tub, "but I don't like the water on my
head. Well, it would'nt hurt my hands any-
way," and Danny filled the large pockets of
his larger coat with apples. "I'll have my
snap-apple wid these up near the haunted
chapel, where I hears the beautiful music.
Oh, won't Miss Alice laugh whin she finds
what the Fairy brought her," and munching
a large ripe apple, Danny quited the barn.
He had hardly disappeared when the large
head of Tobe was pushed through the straw.
"Well, bad luck to him," exclaimed the love-
ing uncle, "so 'twas him that took the money.
THE FAIRY'S GIFT TO ALICE. 111
Oh, wait 'till I get my hands upon him," and
rising, he made a rush for Alice Moyne's
cloak.
เ
'What would you do?" said Ronyane, re-
straining him,
"Get the money," replied Tobe.
"Do not touch it! Why was it put in Neal
Brandon's coat?"
"Why! In order to accuse him o' the rob-
bery."
"Leave it where it is," said Ronyane, in a
whisper, "Can't we accuse her?"
"Oh! 'tis the grate schamer ye are," and
Tobe chuckled. Loud laughing, talking and
moving of chairs was heard inside.
"They are coming," said Ronyane. "Away
with you and bide your time."
"Oh, lave me alone, lave me alone!" said
Tobe, as he went out followed by Ronyane.
"Now thin, boys an' girls!" shouted Sha-
mus, as he entered followed by the revellers,
"Since yev ate an' drank yer fill, get yer
partners for a four-handed reel. Schoolmas-
ter, de you dance wid Alice, Uncle Jurry,
there's Nelly beyant."
"Lave her stay beyant!" replied Jerry,
"I'll stay where I am, an' have a shough o'
112
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
the pipe."
Barney Delaney was again at his post and
well able to fill the bag. The music began
and the boys and girls welted the floor of the
old barn with their feet until it trembled.
The last figure of the reel was nearly ended
as Tobe O'Keefe entered.
"More power to yez all, dance away, that's
right!
""
""
"Is it!" said Shamus, looking at the in-
truder. "I was afeared you'd think 'twas
wrong, an' we've so much regard for yer
scruples, that we'd stop if ye did. But don't
think, ye 'bird of ill-omen,' that because
your'e here, it'll stop our fun. Come girls,
get your hankechers an' hide them, an' boys
shut yer eyes an' see who'll be the first to
find yer sweethearts an' kiss her purty lips.
Some of the girls took their handkerchiefs
from their dress pockets, while others got
them from their cloaks. Among the later
was Alice Moyne. She did not notice that
her handkerchief contained anything, for as
she took it from her pocket, Neil's note fell to
the floor. She picked it up, and while the
boys stood with closed eyes, and the girls hid
their handkerchiefs in all sorts of places,

"Don't think, ye bird of ill omen, that because you're here it'll stop our fun."-p. 112,
Reed
THE FAIRY'S GIFT TO ALICE.
113
Alice read the following :
ALICE:-As I cannot see you to-night, (where you are
enjoying yourself with others), meet me to-morrow evening at
eight, near the haunted chapel, in the Lover's Lane.
6
"NEIL.
22
'Enjoying myself with others. Can he
have been here," mentally ejaculated Alice,
as she looked around all unconscious of the
little bundle held in her hand.
"What ails, ye Alice, an' what have ye in
the bundle?" inquired Hannora, as she play-
fully snatched the "Fairy's Gift," and open-
ing the handkerchief, let the money stolen
from Jerry Roe's mill fall on the floor. "Oh !
what a foolish girl ye are to carry so much
money wid ye.
99
Alice looked at the money as if dazed,
while "Smilin' Tobe" fell on his knees, and
picking up the notes, shouted:
و,
"Oh! be the piper o' war 'tis the money,'
"What money?" asked the schoolmaster.
"The money stole from the mill," replied
Tobe, as he jumped up and held a torn note
towards Tyler. "Look! schoolmaster, look!
The torn one pound note, number Three thou-
sand, three hundert and thirty-three, that you
wouldn't take yesterday from Nale Brandon,
an' ye gave back to him. Mind ye, gave it
114
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
back to him."
"My God!" cried Alice in despair. "Can
he have sent this to me?"
"Alice, asthore," said the miller. "Where
did ye get this money?"
"Oh, I don't know, I don't know!"
wailed the unhappy girl, as she fell sobbing
on Hannora's breast. Maurice Ronyane who
had entered as Tobe was showing the torn
note to the schoolmaster, came forward and
sneeringly said :
"Perhaps the honest miller, Neil Brandon,
sent it to her for safe keeping?"
"Perhaps you know more about it than he
does, Maurice Ronyane," said Shamus.
"Then why is he not here to accuse me, as
I do him. Why is he not here to defend
her?"
"Defend who?" asked Jerry Roe.
"Alice Moyne," replied his partner. "Let
her explain how this money came in her
possession and clear herself if she can."
"If she can!" And Shamus Roe con-
fronted the "gentleman" miller.
"See here, Maurice Ronyane, if you dare
to accuse that innocent girl of the robbery
in the mill, she'll find a defender in me that
THE FAIRY'S GIFT TO ALICE. 115
you won't relish."
"Oh, Neil, Neil!" sobbed Alice. "Why
are you not here?"
"Bekase he's afeared he'd be tuck up,"
said Tobe. "What more proof do we want?
The money was found upon you. So 'tis
aither him or you. If he was here, what
would he do?"
"What would he do?" roared Shamus, as
he seized Tobe by the throat. He'd do as
I'm doin', he'd throttle the blackguard who
dared insult the girl he loves; throw him
down, an' put his foot upon his neck." And
Shamus suited the action to the word, until
the purple-faced scoundrel begged for mercy.
T
CHAPTER VIII.
THE HAUNTED CHAPEL.
Saint Mary's, or as it is better known in
Glanmire, the haunted chapel, was built
years previous to the opening of this story.
It stands on a crag, nearly at the end of the
Lover's Lane, overlooking the River Lee, and
directly opposite "Black Rock Castle." The
small structure is Gothic, and built of stone.
Years ago the tourist on the boat from
Queenstown to Cork, would ask: "What
is that up there among the trees?" The
answer was: "Saint Mary's on the Crag."
To-day the answer to the same question is:
"The Haunted Chapel."
Adjacent to the chapel, and built of like
material, is a cottage which, until two years
ago, was the happy home of Father Owen
THE HAUNTED CHAPEL.
117
Creigh, and his only sister, Abby. Father
Owen superintended the construction of
Saint Mary's, and was its only shepherd, for
since the holy man's untimely death, no
congregation has ever knelt inside its walls.
The exterior is almost covered with moss and
ivy, in which are birds nests innumerable.
The diamond-shaped stained glass and
window sash have disappeared. (Evidently
the work of vandals.) Yet, strange to say,
the interior of the little chapel is clean and
neat. The altar cloth is faded, but not
from dust or mold; even the small cabinet
organ looks as though the dust cloth had been
over its polished surface daily. The super-
stitious of Glanmire avoids the crag, es-
pecially at night. But often can be seen the
artist tourist seated on the little stone wall
which surrounds Saint Mary's, taking a
bird's eye view of the River Lee and the
country near by, or sketching the haunted
chapel and deserted cottage.
On the night succeeding snap-apple, at
about eight o'clock, anyone ascending Lover's
Lane from the middle road, would have heard
the strains of weird, melancholy music in the
direction of the crag, and as the last note
118
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
floated away and died in the balmy evening
air, they would have heard a wail (the wail of
a broken heart) come from inside the haunted
chapel. If this did not retard their footsteps,
and they still possessed the courage to go on,
they would have seen an object emerge from
the tangled ivy growing on the wall near the
chapel, and heard the puny voice of little
Danny O'Keefe : "Was I dramin', or did I
hear the beautiful music agin. Was it that
that woke me, or the hunger? "Oh !'
the little fellow sighed, "I think it was
the hunger. The fairies wasn't good to
me last night, when they didn't lave
me see Miss Alice. She'd a gave me
somethin' to ate. The other day she called
me a poor unfortunate waif. I dunno what
that is, maybe she meant a wafer, I'm so thin.
Wait till she sees me, if I don't get somethin'
to ate soon," and Danny laughed a sickly
laugh. "I wonder if all poor boys has as
much fun as I do; the crag for my bed; the
sky for my coverin'; the dew for my break-
fast, an' an uncle who bates me, God help
me!" The child looked toward the moonlit
sky, and cried: "Oh mother! mother! why
me wid ye whin ye
didn't ye take
THE HAUNTED CHAPEL.
119.
died."
Just then strains of heavenly music
came from the chapel. The boy listened as
though entranced. As the music ceased Danny
ran, and parting the ivy over the window,
looked into the chapel. "'Tis all dark in
there; that's where the music is, but I can't see
who makes it. Maybe, 'tis the ghost of Father
Owen." He left the window and leaned against
the stone wall. "Can ghosts play music? I
dunno. If I was to tell thim this below in
Glanmire, they'd I say I was bewitched. No
one knows but Shamus that I hears it. I hear
tell that angels play upon goolden harps. I
know. 'Tis my mother playin' up in Heaven.
I wish she'd play agin, for whin I hears the
music, I forgets the hunger. Hark! I hear
some one walking in the lane; maybe, 'tis
Uncle Tobe huntin' for me, but he'll not find
me; I'll hide! I'll hide," and the unfortu
nate, but well-meaning emissary of the fairies,
ran and hid in the shadow of the deserted
cottage.
The full moon was nearly at its height, as
Neil Brandon approached the haunted chapel
and looked around. No sign of her yet.
Perhaps Danny failed to give her my note.
If she received it, she will surely come.
I'll
120
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
wait;" and seating himself on the low wall,
Neil looked upon the calm beautiful river
below. "What a delightful night, and
what a magnificent view from this lonely
spot. I thought I heard strains of music as
I came up the lane; perhaps it was some hon-
est fellow in his boat regailing the woman
whom he loves, with sweet melody upon his
accordeon. Ah, my friend enjoy life while
you may; your sweetheart to-night, with you
by her side, drinks of the cup of happiness
until she is intoxicated with bliss; to-morrow
some event may occur, and she will wish that
you were dead. We are but creatures of
circumstances, and what cowards it oftimes
makes of us. Here am I accused of theft,
and yet no way to prove my innocence. All
circumstances against me. A quarrel with
my employer; discharged; the money in my
keeping gone, yet I cannot account for its
loss, but as I sit here, I believe that Maurice
Ronyane can. I've dogged his footsteps,
have been to every shop where he has paid
money, but no trace of my only clew, the torn
one pound note.” The sound of approaching
footsteps caused Neil to turn around just as
Shamus Roe appeared upon the crag.
THE HAUNTED CHAPEL.
121
"Why Shamus, what are you doing here,
and at this hour?" asked the surprised Neil.
"Lookin' for the thief who stole the money
from my uncle's mill," replied Shamus.
"And do you expect to find him here."
"Maybe."
"What?" said Neil approaching him,
"here in the shadow of this old chapel. A
strange place to look for a thief."
"I dunno," said Shamus sternly. "The
divil often loiters at the very dure of the
chapel, so that people'll take him for an
angel."
"An angel, they would soon discover their
mistake."
"Maybe not 'till 'twas too late, wid his
smooth tongue an' honeyed words he creeps
into their hearts an' homes, is trusted an'
beloved smiles in their faces like an angel,
thin stabs thim in the back like a divil."
"Why Shamus, you are moralizing to-
night."
"I have rayson, after what occurred last
night.
""
"Did you have a falling out with Han-
nora.
"I gave Hannora no cause to fall out wid
122
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
me," replied Shamus, as he looked Neil
straight in the face.
for Alice?"
"Can you say the same
“Alice !”
"Yes, she's to meet ye here to-night.
"How do you know?"
22
"How do I now! Sure all Glanmire
knows."
"Of my note to Alice Moyne?"
"Your note! Ah wisha if that was all,"
sighed Shamus.
"All! What more could there be?" asked
Neil.
"You mane what more should there be,
angrily replied Shamus.
"Why did ye not show yer face last night
like a man ?
29
"Because I could not enter into the spirit
of your enjoyment, Shamus. I was ashamed.”
"An honest man should never be ashamed."
"True, but I feel the disgrace and what
proof could I bring of my innocence."
"None, but ye brought plenty proof of yre
guilt.
,,
"Brought proof of my guilt! When, where?"
asked the amazed Neil.
"Last night, to Mrs. Grady's barn."
THE HAUNTED CHAPEL.
123
"Mrs. Grady's barn, last night! Why I
haven't set foot within it for a month."
"Oh, will ye listen to him! Will ye listen
to him," cried Shamus impatiently.
"Shamus Roe, tell me what you mean?"
"I mane, that 'tis a cowardly part in you
to make that honest girl share in your dis-
grace.”
"I know it, Shamus, I know she feels it as
keenly as I do. Last night I passed many
sleepless hours upon this crag, and were it
not for her, I would have cast myself into
the river below.”
"Tis a pity ye didn't," said Shamus aside.
"Ah, Shamus, Shamus, you've no idea of
the feelings of a man who is branded as a
thief."
"No, thank God, I have'nt," proudly re-
plied Shamus.
"Last night, here and alone, it drove me
nearly wild. I knelt there by that wall and
asked the Lord to give me strength to bear
my burthen.”
"He did'nt hear ye. So like a villain ye
took it to her to bear for ye.
"Villain !"
,,
"Yis," replied Shamus, "an' if it was'nt
124
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
that, that poor girl that's comin' up the lane
is goin' to ax ye yer cathecism, one, or
both of us, I'd be over that wall tryin' who
was the best swimmer in the river below.
See here Nale Brandon, last night I defend-
ed you in yer absence, now defend yerself
in mine," saying which Shamus disappeared
behind the chapel.
"Can I believe my senses," said Neil looking
after Shamus Roe. "My best friend calls me
a villain. Pshaw, he knows not what he is
saying; love for Hannora McCabe has turned
his brain. He may do himself some harm,
I'll after and
,,
"Neil!" The voice of Alice Moyne recall-
ed him, as he started after Shamus.
"Alice!" Neil turned and rushed towards
her, as if he would clasp her in his arms.
She held him off and said in icy tones: "I
am here as you desired."
"You are here indeed," said the astonish-
ed Neil, "but not as I desired."
"No!" There was a gleam of hope in the
heart of Alice Moyne, as she took Neil's note
from her bosom, "Then you did not desire
my presence here, and this note is not yours?"
Neil looked at the note which Alice held
THE HAUNTED CHAPEL.
125
toward him, and said:
"That note is cer-
tainly mine.'
""
Alice slowly tore it into shreds and threw
the pieces on the ground. Then with dignity
asked: "Why have you requested me to meet
you here?"
"That we might converse without inter-
ruption,” replied Neil.
"Why did you not come to me at my cot-
tage?"
"Because I will not pollute the threshold
of your home while a cloud remains upon my
name. Oh, Alice! it has made a coward of
me.”
"Guilt makes cowards of us all," said Alice
disdainfully.
"Guilt!"
"Yes, you would remove the cloud from
your name by endeavoring to place the guilt
on some one else.”
"How else can I remove the cloud from
my name."
"True, true," and the beautiful eyes of
Alice Moyne suffused with tears. "Neil
Brandon when but a little girl, I had a hero,
a bright eyed, noble, loveing boy. I watch-
ed him as he grew into manhood; still I had
126
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
my hero.
When my father and mother died,
and I was left an orphan, I did not feel all
alone in the world, for there was my hero,
whom I loved with all my soul. My love
made me an enthusiast; I took up the brush
of romance and painted him as coming to me
some day, telling me he loved me, and ask-
ing me to become his wife. I painted a
pretty cottage, where beneath its thatched
roof our loves would grow and bear their fruits
of happiness, as the vines grew beside the door,
and bore their fragrant flowers, but not like
them, wither and decay. For years I painted
with not a cloud upon the canvass. Last
►
night I looked, and behold! my labor of love
was but a miserable daub. I tore it into
fragments, as I did that piece of paper.”
"But why, Alice, why?'
""
Because I discovered my hero to be unworthy
the love of any honorable woman.
""
"Alice Moyne," said Neil. "If I was the
hero of your painting, I am still worthy of
your love."
"Neil, Neil ! it is best that all should end
between us. Leave this place while yet you
have a chance."
"What, leave Glanmire?"
THE HAUNTED CHAPEL.
127
"Tis best you should."
"I will not stir," said Neil determinedly.
"Then take the consequences."
"Of what?"
"Your crime !"
เเ
'My crime! Alice, Alice, you cannot believe
me guilty of this. It was two days ago you
said to me, 'where there is love there is con-
fidence.' Who has killed that confidence in
your breast; Maurice Ronyane was at the
barn last night."
Hearing the angry voice of Neil, Shamus
came cautiously from behind the chapel and
listened.
"Maurice Ronyane was at the barn last
night,” replied Alice.
"Ah, then, it was he who poisoned your
mind against me. What did he say? I have
the right to know."
"And so you shall," calmly replied Alice.
"He called you a thief.
"He lied, upon my soul he lied."
"Neil Brandon, for mercy sake do not add
the crime of perjury to the other," said Alice
as she covered her face with her hands.
"And you will take this man's word as
proof of my guilt?"
128 THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
3
'No," answered Alice, looking him in the
face. "but on proof furnished by yourself,
the money stolen from the mill."
"Was it found?" asked Neil in astonish-
ment. "Where?"
"In the pocket of my cloak, placed there
by you.
22
"Alice Moyne, are you mad?"
"God help me, cried Alice. "I believe I
am since last night."
"Placed there by me, did you say?"
"Yes! Who else could select my cloak
from among the others. You put it there with
your note."
"I was
"On my honor, no," said Neil.
not near the barn last night. The note I
gave to little Danny O'Keefe to give to you
when alone."
There came a shout from Shamus Roe,
which was answered by the fairy men (echoes)
for a mile around, as he rushed between
Alice and Neil, and exclaimed: "Nale, for-
give me. Tis I'm the villain, not you at all.
Oh, 'tis meself that's the thief. Yis, indeed,
the thief o' the world, that did'nt think of
it before. Didn't I ketch him the very hour
the robbery was dun, runnin' away from the
THE HAUNTED CHAPEL.
129
▸
mill. I axed him where he was goin', an'
he told me he was comin' up here to hear
the beautiful music. An' I suppose that
minute he had the beautiful money in his
pocket."
"Shamus, of whom are you speaking?"
asked Alice.
"Ah! that little Leprauchaun, Danny
O'Keefe, an' to think I didn't think o' him.
Well, well, well!" and Shamus beat his fore-
head with his fist.
"Poor
"Danny O'Keefe !" said Alice.
child, I should never have suspected him.
""
"And yet you doubted me," said Neil. "Ah,
Alice! Why did you not ask me when you
came on the crag, if it was I who put the
stolen money in your pocket."
"Bekase, she didn't have a grain o' sinse.
No, I mane, the divil a grain o' sinse did any
one have, to suspect you at-all-at-all."
"Thank you, Shamus," said Neil, as he
grasped the hand of the vagabond.
"Yer welcome, sur;" replied Shamus, "but
will ye look how happy Miss Alice is. Be me
conscience 'tis worth bein' suspected, to see
such a change in her face. But God bless
her! Sure she's a change in human nature."
130
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
"A change in human nature?" and Neil
looked at him.
"Yis, indeed. Isn't she the first woman
ye ever saw that was glad bekase the man
she loves didn't put money in her pocket."
Alice and Neil laughed. "Now go down the
lane together," continued Shamus, "an' take
yer time goin' home, they'll be no one but the
man in the moon to listen to what ye have to
say, an' he won't tell."
"Won't you come, Shamus?" asked Alice.
"No, dear; I'd only spile the enjoyment of
the first happy hour yev had for days. Lave
yer trouble behind ye here upon the crag, I'll
keep it company, an' maybe find the cause of
it."
With his arm around the waist of the woman
he loves, Neil said: "Alice I am sorry you
destroyed that picture."
"Never mind, Neil," replied the happy girl.
"I'll pick up the fragments; put them to-
gether, and resume my painting," and in the
stillness of the beautiful night, Alice and
Neil walked slowly down the Lover's Lane.
66
CHAPTER IX.
BLIND MAN'S BUFF.
99
"I wish Hannora'd suspect me of some-
thin'," said Shamus, as he looked after them.
"But I dunno, it might be dangerous, for I'm
afeared I'd be found guilty of all charges
agin me." Seating himself on the wall Sha-
mus filled his pipe and began to smoke. ""Tis
many a day since I was near the haunted
chapel at night. 'Tis as quiet as a wake when
the corpse is alone. Not a sign of life
Aisy, yis; there's a boat wid two min
in it, below in the river. 'Tis a fine
night entirely for rowin', glory be to God!
I dunno what Mrs. Grady'd say if she
saw me up here, where she says the ghosts
do play 'hide-an'-go-seek' with each other.
Well, no matter, I'll jine them in their div
132
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
arshun to-night, for ghost or divil, I'll not
stir a step out o' this, till I find Danny
O'Keefe, if he's hidin' about here. Oh! to
think the little vagabone would do the like,
an' after doin' it put the money in the pocket
of Alice Moyne's cloak. There's some one
behind him. I think I've druv the nail, but
I must find that some one before I can clinch
it. But I must find Danny. Where can he
be hidin'? under the ivy maybe. Come out
here to me Danny, I know where ye are.
Come here to me before I go to you." But
no Danny appeared. "Is it inside the chapel
he could be I dunno." Shamus went to the
window parted the ivy, and looked in. ""Tis
as black in there as a sweep's face;" and leav-
ing the window he felt of the ivy along the
wall, but without finding Danny. "I'll have
another blast o' the pipe," and seating him-
self on the wall, Shamus puffed away and
soliloquized: "Maybe 'twas makin' game o'
me he was whin he tould me he was comin'
up here to hear the beautiful music. Arrah!
what music could he hear up here savin'
the whistlin' of the wind among the trees,
an' thin 'twould have to be a stormy night.
Danny, de ye hear me, don't be vexin'
BLIND MAN'S BUFF.
133
me hidin' there. Come out an' face me."
Yet with all his coaxing Danny would
not materialize. "Aisy? I think I have
a way that'll bring him to the fore if
he's anywhere near. Nearly every mid-
day below at the mill, Danny, and a few
more childre of the neigborhood, will hardly
lave me ate my dinner before they want
me to play "Blind Man's Buff" wid 'em. I'll
play it wid Danny O'Keefe to-night, an'
maybe the sound of my voice will bring him
to me side, or frighten away the ghosts. I'll
try anyway."
BLIND MAN'S BUFF.
"With this folded handkerchief, Nora, my dear,
You tightly my two eyes must bind;
Then run, but I'll find you out, never fear,
For I love you, an' love, dear, is blind.
Yes he's blind as a bat, but he's cute for all that,
And the vagabond knows well enough
That the very first man, when the world began.
With a woman played Blind Man's Buff.
Now steal away Nora, dear; I'll catch you never fear,
You may hide, but I know well enough,
That you'd stay here all day, and not run away,
While I played with you, Blind Man's Buff.
While singing the first verse Shamus
thoroughly beat the ivy on the chapel and
the wall with a stout stick he carried, but
1
134
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
to no purpose.
"he's not here or he'd show himself.
""Tis no use," said Shamus,
Well,
I'll wait 'till he comes for I'll not go home.
'till I clinch the nail that I druv;" and again
seating himself on the wall he almost un-
consciously sang the second verse:
"What a wonderful villain this Cupid must be,
He's such power over man, bird an' baste,
But 'tis mostly with women his arrows agree,
When he shoots, they don't mind it the laste;
For they're fond of the boy, he's so jolly and coy,
An' he's made of the right kind of stuff.
To make them feel sad, or with love drive them mad,
As they play with him, Blind Man's Buff."
Now where are you Nora, dear, I hear you over there.
You may laugh, but you know well enough,
That I'd run twenty miles, lepping hedges and stiles,
Just to play with you, Blind Man's Buff.”
As Shamus finished his song he looked
towards the chapel and as he did so, his
blood almost froze in his veins and his hair
began to stand on end (for despite of his
bravery he was very superstitious). An object
small and black was crawling on the ground
in the shadow of the chapel and close to the
ivy. Shamus would have taken to his heels,
but as he tried to rise from the wall his legs
refused to support him.
"Who-what tell me what-who-are
BLIND MAN'S BUFF.
135
-ye?" said Shamus almost in a whisper,
and if the object didn't speak, ready to
throw himself over the wall.
"I'm Danny," said that little mite of
humanity, as he raised from the ground and
approached the frightened thief catcher.
"Dan-Danny-musha bad luck to ye, ye
nearly frightened the life out o' me. Why
didn't ye walk like a Christian, an not crawl
on the ground like a snail."
"I was afeared ye'd stop singin' if ye saw
me.”
"Tis a wonder I didn't stop brathin' when
I saw ye.'
,,
"Did ye come up on the crag, Shamus, to
hear the beautiful music?"
"I'm bothered intirely," said Shamus,
having recovered his wonted courage, seeing
that it was Danny O'Keefe and not a ghost
that stood before him. "Sure a thief in
hidin' i'd never bother his head about music
and singin',"
"Are you hungry, Shamus?"
"Hungry, no! I ate my supper.
""
"I had no supper to ate," said the poor
little fellow with a sigh.
"What are ye doin' up here upon the
136 THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
craig, Danny?"
"Hidin'."
"Who are ye hidin' from, Danny?"
"Uncle Tobe."
"Don't he know yer here?"
"No! If he did he'd ketch me. You
won't tell him, will ye, Shamus?"
"Well, that depends upon what you tell
me, Danny. Now tell the truth.
ye stale the money from the mill?"
"I didn't stale it, Shamus."
Why did
"Don't be tellin' me lies, Danny, or I'll
have ye under the switch o' yer Uncle Tobe
in a jiffy."
"I'm not tellin' ye lies, Shamus. I didn't
stale the money from the mill. I only stole
it from the pocket of Nale Brandon's coat."
"From the pocket of Nale Brandon's
coat?"
"Yes! An' thin I put it in the pocket of
Alice Moyne's cloak. That's where the fun
was.' And an apology for a laugh ac-
companied Danny's last words.
22
"The fun?"
"Yes! Did she get it, Shamus?"
"Oh, indeed she did. I was there, an'
'twas very funny," replied Shamus.
BLIND MAN'S BUFF.
137
'Oh! I knew she'd laugh.'
22
t
"Yes, 'twas such a good joke, Danny. It
bothers me to know what yer drivin' at, but
tell me this: Why did ye take the money out
o' Nale's pocket, an' put it into hers?"
"So that it wouldn't be found in Nale's."
"Oh! I see; yis.
"An' I knew she'd give it back to him."
"But tell me, Danny, who was to find it.
Who put the money in Nale's pocket?"
"Oh, Shamus! if I tell ye, I'll be kilt."
"Well, if ye don't tell me, ye'll be hung.
So ye can have your choice between killin'
an' hangin'."
"Do they hang boys, for doin' good, Sha-
mus ?"
"Yerra in the name o' the Lord, what
good did you do that ye shouldn't be hung?"
"Didn't I put the money in her cloak?"
"Well, be my conscience, there was a power
o' good in that."
"I knew there would be, Shamus."
"Yis, indeed; gettin' the girl that was al-
ways good to ye into trouble.”
"But didn't I get Nale out o' trouble?
Didn't I save him from bein' transported? The
night before the money was took I was sleep-
138
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
in' in the mill loft. When the bell rung for
dinner next day, I peeped out to see if the
coast was clear, so that I could run, whin I
saw him comin' out o' the mill wid his hand
full o' money.
open to get it.
coat, that was
said: Now,
He said he bruk the drawer
He put the money in Nale's
on the schoolmaster's cart, an'
Nale Brandon, when that's
found, who'll be the first to be druv out o'
Glanmire, you or me.' But don't tell him I
tould you Shamus, or he'll be the death
o' me."
"But ye haven't tould me, Danny. Ye only
clinched a nail that I druv awhile ago.
Whist, aisy! I hear footsteps in the lane."
Shamus left Danny and looked down the lane.
Returning, he said: "Tis Maurice Ronyane
yer Uncle Tobe."
an'
"Oh, don't let him bate me, Shamus,
don't!" cried Danny.
"Believe me, my poor boy, he'll never lay
weight of his hand on ye again. Whisper,
Danny, run around by the cottage an' wait
till they're well up on the crag; thin take to
your heels an' run as fast as yer legs'll carry
ye; wait for me at the mill door; ye'll sleep
in the loft to-night, an' have plinty to ate; I'll
BLIND MAN'S BUFF.
139
have use for ye to-morrow. Now away wid
ye." Without another word the poor, half-
starved, frightened child, disappeared behind
the chapel.
"I must find out," said Shamus, "while my
hand is in, what brings these two honest min
on the crag at this hour," and the enemy of
the two schemers, who were slowly coming
up the lane, climbed into the branches of a
large tree, from which "point of vantage,"
with little fear of discovery, he could hear
and see what occurred below.
"What is the matter with you?" asked
Ronyane of his henchman, as they arrived on
the crag, and stood under the very tree on a
limb of which Shamus was comfortably seat-
ed. "I told you to keep quiet in the lane,
yet you chattered like a magpie, and stag-
gered like a drunken man. Is it from fear?"
"No, 'tis from pain," replied Tobe. "My
hands are all blistered from rowin' that ould
boat down the river. What hindered us
from comin' by the road?
""
"Fear of being seen," answered Ronyane.
"We are here now with no chance of that
unless the ghost of Father Owen might spy
us out.'
140 THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
"Don't man, don't!" almost screamed the
cowardly keeper of the Sack O' Flour.
"Don't, for the love o' heaven call up the
dead. He might come an' thin
""
"Well, and what then," asked Ronyane,
laughing loudly.
"He-he'd frighten us away from-from
the wo-work we have to do," replied the
trembling wretch.
Ronyane looked at him in disgust. "Why
you tremble like an aspen leaf and the great
beads stand upon your brow. What is the
cause of this?"
66
""
'Cause no, no cause," answered Tobe.
"Only lave us get dun, an'-an' lave here.”
"Well, then every nook
Ronyane
was interrupted by a scream from Tobe that
awakened the echo's near and far as Danny
ran by him on his way down the lane.
"Did-did ye see it, did ye-did ye see it?"
stammered Tobe as he clasped Maurice
around the neck and nearly choked him.
"See what?" asked Ronyane, as he pushed
Tobe away from him.
"I dunno, but it ran by me like a flash.
"What was it like ?"
""
"Like a ghost, a divil, or a leprauchaun.
BLIND MAN'S BUFF.
141
Come lave us go."
"Not a step, you craven hound,” replied
Ronyane, "until every nook and cranny of
that old chapel is searched, and the book is
found."
"An' if 'tis not found, where's the odds.
Lave it alone; haven't ye her anyway wid the
proof that's agin her."
"That may fail," said Ronyane, "but no
proof of her father and mother's marriage
will bring her with shame to the ground. In
with you and make a thorough search."
"Is it me go in there? Not for my weight in
goold," and Tobe retreated out of reach of
Ronyane's stick. "Do you go in.
here on the crag an' watch.'
""
I'll stop
"You superstitious scoundrel, I wish I'd
left you where you left your courage-below
in the Sack O' Flour."
"I wish I'd brought some of it wid me in
a bottle," said Tobe.
"Should anything human approach," said
Ronyane, as he removed his top coat; and
thew it on the wall, "give me the alarm, but
remember no more of your ghosts or leprau-
chaunes; " and parting the ivy over the win-
dow, the gentleman miller entered the haunted
142
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
chapel.
22
"Bad luck to the lase o' the Sack O' Flour,
said Tobe, as Ronyane disappeared. "For a
hundert years' lase o' my life, I would'nt
come up here agin at night. My legs are so
wake they'll hardly hould me; I'll sit here
upon the wall an' rest 'till he comes I hope
he'll not be long." Tobe seated himself on
the wall and looked down upon the river,
but his promised rest was of short duration.
He had scarcely been seated a minute when
strains of music came from the chapel. At
it's sound, the poor frightened creature
clutched at the ivy on which he was sitting
and held on with what strength there remained
in his arms or he would have fallen over the
wall. For a moment or two he tried to speak
but no sound came from his lips. He sat
there pale and motionless as if his body and
tongue were paralyzed. After the music had
ceased, by a mighty effort, he shook off the
spell that was upon him, and muttered:
"What, what was it all; maybe 'twas him
tryin' to frighten me." After several attempts
he finally stood upon his feet, and said with
an air of bravado, (which he did not feel)
"I'll not stay here to be made game of by
{t

"Oh," cried the now thoroughly frightened wretch, falling on his knees, "may God
help
me this night!"-p. 143.
BLIND MAN'S BUFF.
143
him, or ghost or divil." Tobe started for the
Lover's Lane intent on deserting his compan-
ion, when a voice from the tree shouted:
"Stop!" Tobe did so suddenly, and with as
much precision as though he were a private
in a company of infantry and the Captain
had given the command "Halt.'
"I'll not, not sto--stop," came from be-
tween the trembling lips of Tobe. Although
to save his life, he couldn't advance a single
step. "Wha-what'll I sto-stop for."
"Bekase I command ye," said the voice.
"Who, who are ye?'
"The ghost of Father Owen," came from
the tree.
"Oh!" cried the now thoroughly frighten-
ed wretch falling on his knees, "May God
help me this night."
"He'll not help ye in the business yer here
for," said the voice.
"What brought ye on the crag at this
hour?"
"To get a book, yer riverence."
"What book?"
"The marriage re-record, sur.
"For what did ye want it?"
"To-to bur-burn it sur.
""
144
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
"Oh, ye villain, ae ye ever think o' the
burnin' ye'll get yerself."
"I do sur, I do, but I'll repint if ye'll only
lave me go.
""
"I'm not done wid ye yet," said the voice.
"For what did ye want to burn it?"
"So's Alice Moyne couldn't prove the mar-
riage of her father and mother, sur."
"Tell me," said the ghost, "did he that's
inside o' the chapel put ye up to this? Tell
me an' I'll forgive ye."
"He did sur, but sure 'twould be axin' too
much for you to forgive me, after what I've
dun to ye."
"I know that, ye vagabone, but what did
ye do to me?"
"Ah, sure, yer riverence knows well."
"Oh, indeed I do," said the ghost, "but as
yer never told the truth below in Glanmire,
lave me see if ye'll tell it up here. What
did ye do to me?"
"I—I kilt ye, yer riverence.”
"Oh!" came from the tree, and if Shamus
had not a firm hold of the limb, he'd been
with it. Tobe's confession came upon him
so suddenly, for with all of the "smiler's "
faults Shamus never suspected him of mur-
BLIND MAN'S BUFF.
145
der.
66
Why did ye kill me, Tobey?" asked
the ghost.
"Bekase ye prached agin me," answered
"An' the bad drop was in me agin
Tobe.
you.'
""
"Ah, the bad drop is always in ye. An'
'tis many's the bad drop ye put in others
below at the Sack O' Flour.'
""
"That's it, that's it," said Tobe. "That's
the way ye always prached, an' that's what
druv me wild the mornin' before ye wor
kil-before ye died ye came to me an'
tould me to sell no more licker to Larry
Hoolihan, or if I did ye'd read my name out
nixt day at the railin' before the altar, an'
put the ban o' the church upon any o' the
congregation that intered the Sack O' Flour.
I knew if ye did that my business i'd be kilt,
and so"
"Ye kilt me, ye murtherin' villain?"
"Don't I confess it," groaned the murderer.
"At the break o' day Sunday mornin' I came
up here to the chapel. 'Twas an hour or so
before fust mass; the windy was open; I looked
in, an' there ye were upon yer knees.
crawled through the windy, crep up behind
ye, an' druv the knife into yer side.'
22
I
146 THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
"For which act," said the ghost, "the
devil 'll drive his fork into you.'
""
"Ye found me upon my knees, prayin'.
Yet that didn't stop yer hand?'
""
"Why would it? Wasn't you goin' to
prache agin me?”
"Ah, ye inhuman monster," and for a
ghost there was a volume of strength in the
voice. "But my memory is not good since
ye prodded me wid the knife. What did ye
do thin?"
"Kep away from ye, for ye war roarin'
like a bull, an' tryin' to ketch hould o' me
till ye fell. Thin I heard a voice outside
say: "What ails ye, Owen?" So I made
my way through the windy an' wint down
the lane."
"An' its down the lane yer been goin'
ever since. But the knife that ye kilt me
wid, did ye throw it away?"
"Is it to have .some one find it an'
put it in ivedence agin me. I'm not such a
fool. No, yer riverence, I kep it. I have it
below in the Sack O' Flour. 'Tis the one I
cuts the bread an' mate wid for the cus-
tomers."
There was a commotion among the branches
BLIND MAN'S BUFF.
147
of the trees, which was caused by Shamus
falling from the limb on which he was com-
fortably seated to a fork below, where he
held on with all his strength (which wasn't
much) for the latter part of Tobe's confession
had made him faint and sick. For a moment
or two in his new position, Shamus was
silent, as his sudden and quick descent had
bruised him considerably.
"Are ye gone, yer riverence?" asked Tobe,
noting the silence.
"No!" answered the ghost. Then in a
lower voice to himself: "But 'tis a wonder
I ain't. 'Tis a miracle that I'm not poisoned
intirely, for 'tis many's the piece of bread
an' mate cut by that same knife I've ate in the
last two years."
"Spake louder yer riverence," said Tobe
trying to catch the mutterings of the ghost,
"I didn't hear ye."
"Didn't ye," replied the ghost; "Well I
heard you, an' I heard enough from ye, ye
blood-stained vampire. Away wid ye before
I jump down upon the top o' ye.
""
"I'm goin' sur, but now that I've confessed
ye'll lave me alone, won't ye. I'll repint yer
riverence, I'll repint, an' whin we meet in
1
148
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
the nixt world-
""
"Out upon ye, ye highbinder," interrupted
the ghost; "repint or no repint," never drame
that we'll meet in the nixt world. My voice'll
be heard singin' among the angels, while
you'll be heard cursin' and swearin' among
the divils. Away wid ye out o' sight."
Tobe raised from his kneeling position and
with tottering gait, walked slowly down the
lane. As he placed distance between himself
and the ghost, he accelerated his steps, until
finally he began to run, at which pace he
arrived at the Sack O' Flour, where for the
present we will leave him with his bottle
and his thoughts. When Shamus could no
longer see the self-confessed murderer, he de-
scended from the tree. "Well," said he, as he
stood on terra firma, "I think I played Blind
Man's Buff to some purpose to-night. I have
Tobe O'Keefe on the hip clane an' nate. My,
my, the murtherin villain, an' to think no
one suspected him; bad luck to me for an
aisy goin' fool. When every one in the
neighborhood put the hard word agin him,
although I said nothin' there was pity in my
heart for him, an' at the same time I was
payin' for, an' aitin' bread an' mate cut be the
BLIND MAN'S BUFF.
149
knife that kilt poor Father Owen. "Tis
enough to turn me agin bread an' mate for
the rest o' my life. I dunno was it Ronyane
playin' upon the ould organ. I nearly fell
out o' the tree whin I heard it. Maybe there's
some truth in the story that Danny tells me
about the beautiful music. I'm bothered,
'twasn't to play upon the organ that brought
Maurice Ronyane here, but to stale the book
with the names of Alice Moyne's father an’
mother inside of it. Well, Mr. Ronyane ye'll
not take that book off the crag to-night, un-
less yer a better man than I am; I'll wait till
he comes out," and Shamus sat upon the wall
in the shadow of the chapel, where he could
command a good view of the window through
which Maurice Ronyane entered.
CHAPTER X.
WITHIN THE CHAPEL.
WHILE Tobe O'Keefe was confessing the
murder of Father Owen to Shamus Roe, there
was also a scene being enacted within the
chapel. Scarcely had Ronyane entered
through the window, when he heard the
music that frightened Tobe. It was so dark
within the chapel that he could not see his
hand before him, but not being of the super-
stitious class, he called out "Who's there?"
Receiving no answer, and having visions of
people being stabbed in the dark, he was
about to retreat, when the descending moon
cast a ray of its soft light through the win-
dow above his head. He looked in the
direction from whence the music came, and
there he saw seated at the organ, her back
WITHIN THE CHAPEL.
151
towards him, the sister of the murdered priest,
Abby Creigh; she was playing some beautiful
plaintive melody.
Ah, surely such a scene, at such a time,
and in such a place, should have caused
Maurice Ronyane to have fallen on his knees
to ask God to help him to renounce his evil
ways and pray to Him for his forgiveness.
But, no! Sight of poor demented Abby
Creigh, sound of holy music, or fear of the
Almighty's wrath had no effect upon the
sacrilegious scoundrel.
"Abby Creigh," said Ronyane in surprise,
as his eyes fell upon her. "I thought she
was caged. Could some one have sent her
here to thwart me? If I thought so I'd
strangle her. Pshaw, she's crazy. Knows
not what she's doing. Yet the cunning of
madness may outwit me. I must conciliate
her, and she may aid me in my search."
Abby still played unconscious of the presence
of any one (save her dead) until Ronyane
approached, tapped her on the shoulder
and called her name. At the sound of his
voice she stopped playing, raised quietly
from her seat at the organ and faced him.
"Why are you here?" she asked. "Is it
152
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
to take me back agin.
I will not go!" Then
"Don't take me back,
in a pleading voice:
leave me here with my dead, where all is
peace. There there is no peace. They
tie my hands and beat me.
back!"
Don't take me
"No, Abby, you shall not go back," re-
plied the robber. "Besides I did not come
to take you. I came to see the ruin by
moonlight."
"The ruin and the ruined," sobbed the
poor soul.
"Did you not also come to see
me?"
"I must confess, Abby, I did not expect
to find you here," answered Ronyane.
"Why not? this is my home. Where else
should I be but at home? People say that I
am mad. No, it is not madness; it is grief-
grief for him whose almost forgotten grave
is covered by the rank weeds in yonder
churchyard."
"No, not forgotten, Abby.'
""
"Yes, forgotten by all save me. I heard
him sing to night and I listened in the dark-
ness there by the window with bated breath
lest I should lose a sound. Did you not hear
him?'
""
WITHIN THE CHAPEL.
153
"Often," replied Ronyane. "Why, it was
in this very chapel my father and mother
were wed; at least, so I've been told, but I
would have further proof than mere hear-
say."
"Proof! Who told you they were married
here?"
"My mother."
"And you would have further proof?
Merciful God!" exclaimed Abby, "is it any
wonder that I am mad when nature is so
changed that we doubt the mother who gave
us birth? Proof! What further proof can
you have?"
"Their signatures, my father's and mother's
upon the page in the marriage record; it is
here is it not?"
"Yes, but you shall not see it," replied
Abby.
"I swear I will," said Ronyane, approach-
ing her in a threatening manner.
"Stand back!" cried Abby, as she folded
her arms upon her breast and looked him in
the face, "did you come with blood upon your
hands? Would you desecrate God's holy
temple? If I refuse, would you murder me
as he was murdered there; there upon the
154
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
very spot on which you stand.'
"I would have that book at any price," said
Ronyane, as he advanced a step or two to-
wards Abby.
"At any price save the price that he paid,
you shall have the book; there shall be no
more murders beneath this roof. You shall
have the book, but you will give it back to
me?"
"Yes, but give it to me at once," impatient-
ly replied Ronyane.
Abby raised a slab of slate in front of the
altar, and took out from the opening a med-
ium-sized well-worn book. "There," said she,
as she handed the book to Ronyane, "there
is the book you seek; you will find the proof
you asked for therein," and again seating
herself at the organ she began to play, as
Ronyane made his exit through the window,
laughing at his success in obtaining the mar-
riage record so easily. As his feet touched
Re-
the ground outside he called for Tobe.
ceiving no answer, he shouted loudly, "Tobe."
His reply came from the
from the echoes, "Tobe!
Tobe! Tobe!" "The cowardly dog has
deserted me. Well no matter, I've got what
I came for the book. Now Alice Moyne,”
WITHIN THE CHAPEL.
155
said the elated robber, "with this consigned
to the flames who can prove the marriage of
your father and mother?"
"Meself an' the book," said Shamus as he
advanced and snatched the record from Ro-
nyane.
"Shamus Roe," shouted the baffled thief,
"What are you doing on the crag?"
"Huntin' black-birds," replied Shamus, "an'
I've caged a couple."
"Then one of them will fight for his free-
dom," said Ronyane, as he rushed upon
Shamus.
"In that case," said Tobe O' Keefe's ghost,
I'll have to clip his wings," and shooting out
his right arm, it came in contact with Rony-
ane's chin, and sent him sprawling and sense-
less beneath the window of the haunted
chapel, leaving him lay there. Shamus with
his prize walked gaily down the lane, singing
"Blind Man's Buff.'
""
L
CHAPTER XI.
THE MARRIAGE RECORD.
THE morning after the events narrated in
the last chapter Tobe O'Keefe was astir bright
and early. Indeed, it is doubtful whether
he had been in bed at all since he left the
crag. He looked tired; the color had for-
saken his face and left it pale as that of the
proverbial ghost. He was seated at the cus-
tomers' table in front of the Sack O' Flour,
paying strict attention to the contents of a
black bottle.
"D-n_the_marriage record an' him that
took me to hunt for it," said he, as he swal-
lowed a glassful of the "ardent." I dunno
did Ronyane hear me talkin' to the ghost.
If he did 'tis all up wid me, not that I think
he'd say a word about it, but he'd hould it
THE MARRIAGE RECORD.
157
over my head an', day or night, make me do
his biddin'. "Tis a wonder Father Owen said
nothin' about the ring I took from his finger
whin he fell. I have it wid me ever since."
Tobe took from the inside pocket of his
waistcoat a small package; it was the seal
ring of the murdered priest securely wrapped
in tissue paper. Untying the package and
opening it, he gazed without a tremor at the
positive proof of his damnable crime.
"This would hang me if 'twas found upon
me," said he, as he returned it to its hiding-
place. "Tis worth a pound or so, anyway,
an' the nixt time I go to Cork I'll get rid of
it."
66
"What will you get rid of?" asked a voice
at his elbow.
Tobe jumped in the air as though he'd
been shot.
"What-who-what did ye see?"
"When," asked Ronyane, for it was he
who came so suddenly upon Tobe.
22
'Now-awhile ago. What did ye see?
"I saw you jump as if the ghost had hold
of you."
(
'Go-ghost, there no such thing as a go-
ghost. Did ye ever hear one spake?"
158 THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
"Certainly not. But what are you going
to get rid of? "
"The Sack O' Flour," replied Tobe. "I'm
goin' to give it up.
"9
"Going to give it up!" and Ronyane
laughed. "You'll be compelled to give it
up!"
"Who'll make me if I don't want to?"
"Its owner, Alice Moyne."
"Didn't ye find the book?"
"Yes!"
"An' did ye burn it?"
"No!"
"Why not?"
"Because it did not remain in my posses-
sion long enough."
"What de ye mane?"
"I mean that you are a coward and ran
away. Had you remained, the marriage
record would not now be in existence, as
you could have given me warning of the
presence of that eavesdropping scoundrel."
"Who de ye mane?"
"Shamus Roe."
"Was he upon the crag last night?
"Yes, and perhaps heard every word of
our conversation."
""
THE MARRIAGE RECORD.
159
"I'm undone," said Tobe, as he filled a
glass with courage and dashed it off at a gulp.
"We're both undone, and all your fault.
Had you remained at your post, Shamus Roe
would have had two of us to deal with in-
stead of one, but now he's got the book and
can laugh at us.
29
"Was it him that took it from ye?
29
"Yes, d-n him, and knocked me down
into the bargain, but I'll be even with him,"
hissed Ronyane with an oath.
"Do, do," eagerly said Tobe; "have him
took up for strikin' ye."
"Don't be a greater fool than you are; I'll
be lucky if he doesn't have me 'took up' for
robbing the chapel," replied Ronyane, "but
I can swear that Abby Creigh gave me the
book."
"Was she there?"
99
99
"Yes, I was rather surprised on entering
the chapel to see her playing on the organ.
"Then it wasn't the ghost that was playin'.'
"What ghost?" asked Ronyane.
"The no matter," answered Tobe, and
again he had recourse to the bottle.
"True, ghost or devil, it doesn't matter
much now," said Ronyane bitterly; "Twice
160 THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
we've been beaten at our own game, that
devil Shamus Roe defeated me, and the ghost
of Father Owen frightened you."
"How de ye know that," asked Tobe; a
look of terror in his face, "did ye know that
he was there?"
"You superstitious dog, leave you alone,
and that weak brain of yours would conjure
up a thousand ghosts. I know I left you on
the crag, and I know that you deserted me. I
also know that I have lost the mill, and that
you have lost the Sack O' Flour; the book
taken from me by Shamus Roe will prove
Alice Moyne's right to the possession of both
of them.”
"Can't we frighten her into givin' us the
lases?"
"Frighten her, how?" asked Ronyane.
"The stolen money found in her pocket.
Tell her that I'll swear that I saw her
take it."
"That wouldn't frighten her a particle?"
"Why not?"
"Because she'd know full well that no jury
would convict her on the evidence of such a
scoundrel as you are," replied Ronyane.
"Scoundrel, is it!" retorted Tobe, angrily.
THE MARRIAGE RECORD.
161 ··
"Well, Mr. Ronyane, when the devil was
huntin' hinchmen, believe me, he didn't pass
you by unnoticed."
"No," laughed Ronyane. "One or two
actions in my past life evidently called that
gentleman's attention to me. But then I
don't pose as an angel."
"Ye
"Small blame to ye," replied Tobe.
know well enough that the golden slipper
was never made to fit the cloven foot."
"Enough of d-n nonsense," said Ronyane,
impatiently. "The only way to make Alice
Moyne bow her head is through Neil Bran-
don. If we could only get little Danny to
swear that he saw Brandon rob the mill and
put the money in his pocket; then afraid of
its being found there, bribed him (Danny)
to take the money to Alice Moyne for safe
keeping, you see the boy's story would
carry some weight.
22
“Oh, it would, it would," cried Tobe; "now
we have them safe an' sound.
"Do you think the boy will do it?" asked
Ronyane.
"Av coorse he will; why wouldn't he?" re-
plied the loving uncle. Don't I keep the
hunger from his stomach an' the could from
162
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
his back?"
"Well, yes, O'Keefe, you keep his back
warm enough with the rod, whatever you
do with his stomach, poor lad."
22
I'll make his back warmer whin I find him,
and Tobe shook his fist at an imaginary
Danny, an' if he don't come to the fore an'
swear as I desire, I'll flay him alive."
"If I may judge from what I've seen of
that boy, he won't submit to many more of
your flayings. A little kindness would be
more to the point.”
"Bah, show kindness to a dog an' he'll turn
an' bite ye; bate him well an' he'll do yer
biddin," said Tobe as he held up the bottle.
"Come, lave us go inside an' drink to our new
schame. This bottle's impty; 'tis marvelous
how much a man can drink whin he's in
trouble. I imptied that bottle be meself.”
"I thought you had the ghost of Father
Owen with you," laughed Ronyane, as he en-
tered the Sack O' Flour.
"For the love o' heaven, lave him rest,'
said Tobe as he followed.
22
Ronyane and Tobe had been about an hour
drinking to their "new schame" when the
men arrived at the mill. The bell announced
THE MARRIAGE RECORD.
163
the hour of seven, the wheel commenced to
revolve, and the day's toil of the honest mill-
er began. Fearful that when Ronyane
recovered consciousness, he would proceed to
find Shamus, and endeavour to regain posess-
ion of the book, that night prowling vaga-
bond at dawn of day knocked at the door of
Alice Moyne's room. and after recounting to
her how it came into his hands, gave it to
her. After heartily thanking him, Shamus
withdrew to the kitchen to have a drag o' the
pipe, and think over the events of the night
(for sleep he could not), while Alice, seated
on the edge of her dainty bed, closely held
her treasure to her heart. A smile of triumph
lighted up her beautiful face, for now she
could vindicate her honored parents, and prove
to Maurice Ronyane that she was not the
child of shame. But the smile turned to a
look of despair; as after search and re-search,
she failed to find in the Marriage Record the
names of her father and mother. Summoning
Shamus, she told him of her discovery, and
dispatched him in all haste for Tyler McCabe,
the schoolmaster. In due time that worthy
man, accompanied by Hannora, Shamus and
'Nancy," arrived at the mill, where they
164
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
1
were met by Jerry Roe and Alice Moyne.
"Is it true," asked the schoolmaster, as he
descended from the cart, "Is it true what
Shamus tould me?"
"If he told you," replied Alice, "that the
names of my father and mother are not regis-
tered in the Marriage Record of Saint Mary's,
then he told you truly."
""
Dear, dear!" exclaimed Tyler, "how can
that be, are the laves paged Alice?'
"No," replied Alice, "the leaves are not
paged."
"Then," said Tyler. Maybe that divil's
bird Ronyane cut the lafe out. Ye see, not
bein' paged, ye couldn't tell where it was
cut from."
"No," said Shamus. "He cut no lafe out
o' the book. I had my eye upon him. The
book was in my hand one minute after it left
Abby Creigh's.
"Was she there? An' did she give it to
him?" asked the schoolmaster in surprise.
"She was there, an' she gave it to him, "
replied Shamus.
"I'm bothered," and Tyler scratched his
head. "I'm bothered to know why she gave
him the book."
THE MARRIAGE RECORD.
165
"To save her life," answered Shamus.
"Did he threaten to kill her?" asked
Jerry Roe.
"Indeed he did," replied Shamus.
"An' you heard him?"
"I did."
"Then why didn't ye go in an' knock him
down?"
"Well, as I didn't see him lay his hand
upon her, I waited till he kem out to do
that."
"An' did ye, whin he kem out?
""
"Well, I left him lyin' above upon the
crag anyway."
"Yer a good lad," said Jerry. "Now go
to yer work, the wheels has just began to
go round, an' if ye don't go soon ye'll lose
a half a day's pay.'
"Ye might as well make it a whole day's
pay, Uncle Jerry, for divil a tap o' work will
I do in the mill to-day. I've other things to
look after."
"What other things?" asked the miller.
"Ketchin' some chickens that's come home
to roost," replied Shamus.
"So it seems," said Tyler McCabe, "that
Maurice Ronyane had murder as well as rob-
166 THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
!
bery in his heart whin he wint in the chapel
last night."
"No," said Alice Moyne, "I believe my lov
ing cousin's visit to the chapel last night was
to prove the truth of an assertion he made to
me "Snap-Apple Night" at Mrs. Grady's."
"I wouldn't believe him on a stack o'
bibles," exclaimed Shamus.
"What did he assert?" asked the school-
master.
"That I was a child of shame."
"Oh no, no, not that, Alice, acushla," said
Hannora as she drew the weeping girl's head
upon her bosom.
"He lied," cried Jerry Roe excitedly. "God
knows he lied."
"Aisy, Jerry, aisy,; sure we all know that,"
said Tyler, trying to soothe the miller.
"He never was a child of shame or a man
of shame either," said Shamus (Shamus was
a little at sea as to what was meant by a
"child of shame"), "he never had a grain of
shame in him, bad luck to him."
"Houl' yer tongue, ye ignorant omadhaun,"
said Jerry, "an' go hunt for yer chickens."
“O, I'll find thim whin I want thim, niver
fear," replied Shamus.
THE MARRIAGE RECORD.
167
"There dear, don't cry any more, don't;
sure ye may have looked through the book
too fast an' missed the names. You an' me'll
go through, lafe after lafe, quiet an' aisy, an'
take my word for it, we'll find thim." Poor
Hannora was endeavoring to awaken a gleam
of hope within the heart of the unhappy girl,
but in vain.
"I know Hannora, darling, you mean well,
but the plain facts stare me in the face. The
names are not there. Maurice Ronyane knew
that he spoke the truth when he gave me two
days to prove the contrary; he also knew
that, having the most implicit faith in the
honesty of my parents, I would make no ef
fort to produce the record of their marriage;
so, to convince me and bring matters to a
climax between us, I sincerely believe his
only object in visiting the chapel last night
was to obtain possession of the book, place it
in my hands and thereby prove the truth of
his assertion. As to his committing murder,
no, bad as he is, I don't believe he would de-
scend to that."
Thus did Alice Moyne defend the man who
for days had been using every rascally means
to blast her honest name. A defence which
168 THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
Maurice Ronyane would take advantage of
later on, for within the Sack O' Flour over
his jug of punch he had listened to every
word uttered by those outside.
"Alice, ye make me mad," said the school-
master, "ye defind a blackguard whose only
aim is to get possession of your property and
who would resort to any manes to attain that
end, even by casting a slur upon the honored
dead. And is it the word of a villain like this
that would make you doubt the honesty of
your father and mother? Believe me, my
child, their names are registered there, in a
book that Maurice Ronyane'll never get close
enough to stale."
"Schoolmaster," replied Alice, "do not
think so meanly of me as to imagine for one
moment that I have ever doubted the honesty
of my beloved parents. An angel from
heaven could not make me believe they were
not wed in the little chapel on the crag, but
Maurice Ronyane will take advantage of the
absence of their names from the Marriage Re-
cord of Saint Mary's and proclaim to the
world that I am without a name.'
22
""
"Thin I'll tell the world he's a d-n liar,
said Shamus. "For I was there whin you
THE MARRIAGE RECORD.
169
wor christened, Alice Johanna!"
"Tis a pity you wor ever christened, ye
chatterin' jack-daw!" exclaimed Jerry. "Or
born either!"
"Ah, Uncle Jerry, what would Hannora
do if that ivint hadn't took place?"
"I know what I'll do in an ivint that'll
take place soon. I'll box your ears!" And
Hannora looked at Shamus as though she
meant it. "Keep yer jests an' gibes for
some other time, don't ye see the trouble
we're in now?"
"Yes, an' bad luck to me, I'm the cause of
it all. I wish 'twas Ronyane brought the
book in place o' me."
"Yer not to blame, my lad," said Tyler.
"Ye did what was right. But come, lave me
take a run through the book, an' see what I
can make out of it."
The two girls led the way to the cottage,
followed by the schoolmaster and Jerry Roe.
"Maybe," said Shamus, who remained
standing near the mill door as the others
departed, "maybe 'twould be a good thing
if I wasn't born, since I wasn't born to
good luck, like Paudeen O'Rafferty. I try
to do right, but I'm always doin' wrong.
If
170
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
I hadn't brought her the book she'd never
know what's in the inside of it, for she'd
never see hide or hair of it from Ronyane.
If I hadn't took the pledge, I'm afeared 'tis
drinkin' I'd be to-day. But no, the sales are
yet fresh upon my lips an' I won't break
them," and Shamus sauntered towards the
cottage to join the others in their search
through the marriage record.
CHAPTER XII.
AN HOUR'S TRIUMPH.
As Shamus Roe entered the cottage, Ron-
yane and Tobe, who had been watching
him, came from the Sack O' Flour, their
gross faces illuminated with joy, and their
weak brains muddled with whisky.
"Have another taste," said Tobe, his right
hand firmly clasping the neck of the bottle.
"No," replied Ronyane, "I must keep a
clear head for what's before me.
22
"Ah, man alive, sure what's before ye is as
straight as a string. Yer the master here,
an' can do what ye plaze. What's before ye
is to drive thim out, every one o' thim; drive
thim out like ye'd drive pigs out o' a sty.
,,
"Have no fear O'Keefe, sight of Alice
Moyne and her friends will not offend your
172
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
1
1
eyes much longer; they shall go, one and all
of them; but this driving out, as you call it.
cannot be done in a day.
22
“A day!” shouted Tobe, "I wouldn't wait
an hour, a minute; I'd drive
,,
"The law my dear fellow," interrupted
Ronyane. "The law must take its course, I
must first prove that Alice Moyne is not the
heiress."
"Don't the book prove that, didn't ye hear
thim say that her father an' mother's names
wasn't in it; sure that's law enough; get the
book, they can't deny ye that. We'll take it
below to Cork, an' show it to Dan Mooney,
the lyer. He'll say 'tis all right; thin we'll
get Mick Carmody, the constable, he's the
boy for ye. We'll tell him what to do an'
there won't be one o' thim left in the neigh-
borhood be supper time.
27
"Put that bottle away, you're drunk."
"Yis, I am, drunk wid joy. Oh, this is the
greatest day o' my life. I can now show
Nale Brandon what drivin' out manes, an'
tache Shamus Roe to be mannerly to his
betters. Aha, 'tis my turn now; not one o'
thim that's been agin me will I lave darken
the dure of the Sack O' Flour."
AN HOUR'S TRIUMPH.
173
Maurice Ronyane laughed, "How do you
know the Sack O' Flour will be yours?"
وو
"How do I know it, ah, Mr. Ronyane,
cried the cringing creature; "Ye wouldn't
take it away from me now, would ye sur,
after all I've dun for ye?
27
"That depends on how you get Danny to
swear against Neil Brandon."
"Danny'll transport him an' her too."
"Never mind her, let us only get him dis-
graced and out of the way, and we'll have
her safe enough, but first-" and Ronyane
whispered in Tobe's ear, "We must find that
missing leaf."
"What missin' lafe?""
"The missing leaf from the Marriage Rec-
ord."
"How de ye know there's one missin'?
29
"I'm sure of it, as I am that we stand here;
how could her father and mother's name dis-
appear from the book if some one had not
tampered with it?"
"Ye mane if some one hadn't tore out the
lafe wid their names upon it."
"Precisely."
"Now's my chance," said Tobe aside, as he
took another swig from the bottle. After a
174
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
good half pint of the contents had rippled
down his throat, he turned to Ronyane, "An'
so ye'd like to find that missin' lafe?"
"We have no assurance of success," replied
Ronyane, "while it is in the hands of others.
It was evidently taken from the book (as was
the money taken from the coat) to thwart us,
and like the money, may turn up at any
moment."
"No fear of it turnin' up," said Tobe with
a knowing wink.
"Why not?" asked Ronyane.
"Bekase 'tis burned, but I hope 'tis no
wrong I dun Mr. Ronyane," whined Tobe, as
he looked askance at his chief.
"What have you done?" asked the aston-
ished co-conspirator.
"Well, sur," replied this modern 'Ananias',
"The night of the goins on below at Mrs.
Grady's, after I was knocked down an' walked
upon be Shamus Roe, I was wild for rivinge,
so say's I to meself, I'll take it out upon
Danny for bringin' the money to Alice Moyne
in place of lavin' it where I put it in Nale
Brandon's coat. Well, sur, I waited an'
waited for him to come, till I got tired, then
wid a stout stick in me hand, I started out to
AN HOUR'S TRIUMPH.
175
เ
find him. Divil a know did I know where I
was goin' till I found meself upon the crag,
near the haunted chapel. Seein' where I
was, all thoughts o' Danny wint out o' me
head, an' I remimbered you an' the book.
What's to stop me now' says I, 'of gettin'
the book, as there's no one about to see me?'
No sooner said than dun, so in I goes through
the windy. After sarchin' a bit, I finds it.
What's the use o' me luggin' this big book
wid me says I, 'tis only the lafe wid her
father an' mother's name upon it that he
wants, so I outs wid me knife, an' nate an'
complate, I cuts the lafe out."
"Where did you find the book?" asked
Ronyane, looking at him suspiciously.
"Is it whin I wint inside the chapel?"
"Of course you couldn't find it outside.
Where did you find the book?"
There was a nervous twitching of Tobe's
lips as he answered:
"On a little shelf behind the altar."
"Tobe O'Keefe," said Ronyane, sternly.
"You are lying to me! Abby Creigh took
the book from beneath a stone slab in front
of the altar."
"Of course she did!" Tobe had some-
176
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
what recovered his composure.
"Where
else'd she take it from? For wasn't it there
I put it after I cut out the lafe?"
เ
'Why did you put it there?"
"So's no one else'd find it as aisy as I did,"
replied Tobe.
"After the leaf was gone was the very
time I would have had it found."
"Of course, I knew that. But ye wouldn't
have it found lyin' about where anyone
could lay their hand upon it? Sure, then
people would say: 'Tis aisy enough to
account for the names not bein' in it.' But
if after sarchin' an' sarchin' they found it
under a slab stone, where the divil himself
couldn't find it (savin' he knew where it
was): That book was never touched since
the priest since the chapel was closed for
sarvices.' That's what they'd say thin."
"There's something in that," said Ronyane.
"But why did you let me go on a wild goose
chase when you knew the leaf was de-
stroyed?"
"I wanted to surprise ye a trifle if be
chance ye found the book and looked inside
of it; ye'd be surprised, wouldn't ye sur; thin
I wanted to show ye that I wasn't afeared to
A
AN HOUR'S TRIUMPH.
177
go inside of the haunted chapel at night.'
""
"You might have spared me a very un-
pleasant interview with that poor, demented
creature, Abby Creigh,"
"I didn't know she was there, sur, or I
would. Anyway, I was goin' to tell ye as ye
wor goin' through the windy where to find
the book, but that minute I saw Shamus Roe
comin' up the lane. I wouldn't call ye thin
for fear he'd hear me, an' I knew he wouldn't
look inside the chapel for he's afeared o'
ghosts, so I hides behind a tree till he passed
me and thin made me way down to the Sack
O' Flour.'
""
"And left me to be nearly murdered by
that night-prowling scoundrel."
22
"Ah, sure sur, ye ought to be able for him
any day, but look at the fall we can take out
o' him now, him and thim. But maybe, sur,
said the inventive sniveller, "maybe 'tis
wrong I dun in burnin' the lafe."
"If what you say is true, you have done
me a great service, for which you shall have
the Sack O' Flour."
"Ah, Mr. Ronyane, sure 'tisn't for the sake
o' the Sack O' Flour I dun it; 'tis the grate
regard I have for ye, sur."
178
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
"Well, Tobe, through your grate regard for
me I can defy Alice Moyne to prove that she
is the heiress, but first I must collect my
thoughts and then I will visit the Lady
Alice.'
""
A parting glass with Tobe, and Ronyane
sauntered leisurely down the lane toward the
river.
Tobe laughed as he looked after the reced-
ing figure of Maurice Ronyane. "His mind
is aisy about the missin' lafe," said he, as he
took up the bottle to replenish his empty
glass. That is if there is a missin' lafe. Sure
if it was where he says, underneath a stone
forninst the altar, divil a sight anyone had
of it for years till last night. No one knew
where it was or bothered thimselves about it,
an' I don't think Abby Creigh set her two
eyes upon it, since the last couple was
married in the chapel, till she gave it to Ro-
nyane. I've no rayson to fear any lafe from
that book turnin' up at this late day. So the
Sack O' Flour is still mine, an' Nale Brandon
(if we can't sind him to jail), him an' his
frinds'll have to pack bag an' baggage out o'
this," and Tobe laughed loudly.
"'Tis enjoyin' yerself ye seem to be, drink-
3
AN HOUR'S TRIUMPH.
179
in' an' laughin'," said Shamus, who had just
returned from the cottage, and was about to
enter the mill as he heard Tobe's laughter.
"Why wouldn't I enjoy meself, sure no
one can stop me from laughin' whin I like,
an' drinkin' what's me own, can they?"
"Oh! the sorra the one." replied Shamus.
"A man may drink whin he's dry, an' laugh
whin he has somethin' to laugh at. You're
always dry, so drink away, but it bothers me
to know what yer laughin' at."
"Bekase I'm in the humor; is that answer
enough for ye?"
"Oh, indeed it is, but sure, I might have
known that yer such a humorous kitten, but
what puts ye in such good humor to-day?"
"Joy at the downfall of some of my good
friends" sneeringly replied Tobe.
"Twould be an odd thing," said Shamus,
"to hear of the downfall of any o' your
friends. Savin' they fall in a ditch from a
skin full o' your liquor."
"Jibe away, Shamus Roe; but my time
has come-
""
"Not yet Tobe," interrupted Shamus.
"But it will soon."
"I say my time has come to see you an'
1
180
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
yer uncle an' Alice Moyne an' Nale Bran-
don druv out o' this part o' the country; ye
all lorded it over me to yer hearts contint,
now 'tis my turn. Why, man alive, my sides
aches laughin' whin I think of it."
-
Shamus watched the contortions of Tobe's
face until he thought that he (Tobe) would
burst a blood vessel, and thereby cheat the
gallows. Still Tobe laughed on, little dream-
ing in the exuberance of his joy, that above
his head, at that very moment, hung sus-
pended an ax, the sustaining power of which
was no stronger than a spider's web.
When at last from sheer exhaustion, Tobe
stopped laughing, Shamus asked: "Who's
goin' to do the drivin', Tobe? If we're goin'
to be druv like a parcel o' sheep, 'tis well to
know who houlds the whip.
""
Maurice
"A man that'll not fail to use it.
Ronyane, no less. Shamus Roe, ye did a bad
job whin ye knocked him down last night."
"How do you know I knocked him down
last night? Wor ye there?"
"No!" I was home in my bed. I wasn't
near the crag last night."
"Then who tould ye that I knocked him
down? Was it the fairies that come to yer
AN HOUR'S TRIUMPH.
181
bed an' whispered it to ye?"
"No, he tould me here, himself, a while
ago."
29
"Tis airly he kem to you wid the news.
"Who else would he come to here but me?
'Tis small welcome they have for him above
at the cottage."
"Small blame to thim for that.'
22
"Yis, an' small blame to him for tryin'
to get what belongs to him.
"Tis time he
showed her, wid her high an' mighty ways,
that she has no right here. He wint to the
chapel to get the book, bring it to her an'
show her that her father an' mother's names
was not in it, but you saved him the trouble."
"I did, bad cess to me, an' now I'm sorry
for it."
"Av coorse, ye're sorry whin 'tis too late,
but you're too aisily led, an' 'tis a grate pity,
for ye're a very knowin' boy."
"Oh, I am sur, 'tis the power o' knowledge
I have; sure I know enough to hang some
people."
"To be sure ye do," and Tobe chuckled,
"ye know very well that 'twas Nale Brandon
that robbed the mill."
"Whisper Tobe, betune you an' me, I
182 THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
know well who robbed the mill."
"Swear to it, Shamus, swear that ye saw
him do it an' it'll be a purty pinny in yer
pocket."
"Will it now? The pinny'd be very wel-
come after I'm druv out by Mr. Ronyane.
22
"I think, Shamus, he'd lave you stop here
if ye'd only show Nale Brandon that he can't
wind ye 'round his finger like a piece o'
thread. Sind him where the dogs can't bite
him an' you'll be safe enough."
"Well, that'll be a consolation, anyway, to
know that I'll be safe, no matter what be-
comes o' him; 'tis a thorn he is in the sides o'
both o' yez.
"I hate him; sure if it wasn't for him, you
an' me'd be friends to-day."
"No, not to-day Tobe; we might be yister-
day, but not to-day."
"For what rayson?"
"Well, ye see, you an' me'll soon part com-
pany, an' whin we do, it won't be long before
you'll get a rise in the world, an' thin ye'll
never look at me agin.
99
"Ye'll always be welcome at the Sack O'
Flour, if ye'll only do as I bid ye now, but
come lave us drink to my risin' in the world."
AN HOUR'S TRIUMPH.
183
1
"I would Tobe wid all my heart, but I have
the pledge."
"Bah, the pledge made to a couple o' petti-
coats," said Tobe disdainfully, "isn't worth a
pinch o' snuff, show them that yer a man an'
""
"I will," interrupted Shamus, "but to be a
man I must ate, an' I'm as hungry as a salt-
cod in fresh wather. Bring me a bite o' some-
thin', divil a morsel did they cook above in
the cottage to-day. Ye see they're in so much
trouble, that
22
"May they never get out of it," said Tobe,
as he entered the Sack O' Flour.
As Tobe went after the "bite o' somethin'
to eat," Shamus crossed over to the mill and
called, "Danny! Danny!
""
"Here I am Shamus," said the little fellow,
as he looked out of the window of the loft,
"but I'm achin' wid the hunger."
"Lave the windy open," said Shamus, "an'
I'll throw ye somethin' up after awhile, but
don't stir from where ye are till I call ye.”
"No fear, sur," and Danny disappeared.
from the window as Tobe came from the
shebeen with half a loaf of bread, a piece of
cold ham, and a large knife.
184 THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
"There ye are, Shamus," said Tobe, as he
placed the provender on the table. "Now
ate yer fill an' wash it down wid a taste o’
this." Raising the bottle to fill a glass for
Shamus, he discovered that it was empty.
"Not a drop in it, Well, no matter, the
Lord be praised there's plinty more inside.
Now, Shamus, make yerself comfortable,
yer my friend an' must ate an' drink at my
expinse to-day." Intent on conciliating
Shamus, Tobe made another pilgrimage for
the purpose of regaling him.
Shamus again crossed to the mill, and
climbing up the door which stood open,
called Danny, and handed him the bread
and meat, which the poor child began to
masticate with avidity as Shamus returned to
the table.
66
'May they never get out of it' (manin' the
trouble, an' for thim above at the cottage)
that's what he said. Ah, thin, Mr. Tobe
O'Keefe, whether they get out of it or not,
'tis in it you'll get to-day. I'll frighten him
a trifle fust by puttin' a couple o' hot irons
under his feet to see how he'll stand the
hate."
Tobe returned with the replenished bottle.
AN HOUR'S TRIUMPH.
185
an-
"Come, Shamus, my boy, drink while ye ate
Where is it?" asked the astonished
Tobe, as he noticed the absence of the bread
and meat.
"Gone, every morsel of it," replied Shamus.
"Tis hungry ye wor. Well, much good
may it do ye.
"Never fear, Tobe, 'tis a power o' good
'tis doin' where it is now.”
"Wash it down wid a taste o' this."
Tobe
filled a glass with liquor and held it towards
Shamus.
"No, I never could drink upon an empty
stomach."
The extended glass nearly dropped out of
Tobe's hand as he looked at Shamus and re-
peated his last words, "Impty stomach?"
(.
"'Yis," said Shamus,
said Shamus,
"what I ate this
mornin' wouldn't keep a mouse alive.”
'Tis the stomach of an ox ye have. Here
see if 'twill hould this wid the rest."
"No," and Shamus waved aside the still
proffered glass, "I'm not dry; 'tis sleep I
want, not drink."
"Small blame te ye," replied Tobe, "for I
suppose 'tis little sleep ye had last night."
"The sorra's the wink," yawned Shamus.
186
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
"how could I sleep wid the drames that I
had?"
"Drames?"
"Yis, above upon the crag near the haunted
chapel."
"What did ye drame, Shamus?"
So, after
"Well, whin I wint up upon the crag the
night was fine (glory be to God!).
smokin' a pipe or two, I laid down under the
ivy that covered the wall; soon the drame
kem upon me; I thought I heard beautiful
music playin', thin of a sudden it stopped an'
I saw comin' up the Lover's Lane two robbers.
Whin they got upon the crag they stood as
close to me as you are now an' began talkin'
about some book or other, thin-
""
'Ah, what are ye talkin' about, man," in-
terrupted Tobe nervously.
"About my drame; oh 'twas a marvelous
one. Well, sur, after a time one o' the rob-
bers wint away and left the other one there,
but he didn't stay long, he was frightened at
somethin' and took to his heels, whin the
voice of some one up in a tree over my head
tould him to stop. Ah, Tobe, 'tis a good
thing ye wor home in yer bed last night, for
if ye ever heard the voice above in the tree,
AN HOUR'S TRIUMPH.
187
'twould have frightened the life out o' ye."
"I'm not so aisily frightened," said Tobe.
"but why are ye tellin' me this?"
'Didn't ye say a while ago that ye were
my frind, an' who would I tell it to but my
frind, an' to-day won't I prove my frindship
by placin' in the hands of the sheriff of Cork
the thief that robbed the mill ? "
"Nale Brandon; 'twas him that dun it,
Shamus, but he's keepin' close. De ye think
ye can find him?"
"Ah, the villain o' the world, to rob my
poor Uncle Jerry.
""
"Whisper, Tobe, I can lay my hand upon
him as aisy as I can upon you," and Shamus
laid his hand on Tobe's shoulder.
•
"But it isn't aisy, yer layin' yer hand upon
me," said Tobe as he wriggled and squirmed
to get out of the clutch of Shamus. Take
it away, sure one'd think be the way yer
houldin' me that 'twas me ye suspected."
"I've gone beyand suspectin'" said Shamus
as he released Tobe from his grasp," no Tobe
I don't suspect you. But I haven't inded my
drame yet. Well sur, whin the robber was
tould to stop by him in the tree, he fell upon
his knees an' shook like a lafe; small blame
188
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
to him, for would ye believe it sur, he thin
and there confessed that 'twas he that mur-
dered Father Owen Creigh, the Lord 'a mercy
on him."
"Ye say ye heard him confess," said Tobe,
as he reached for, and got possession of, the
knife on the table.
"In my drame, yis," replied Shamus.
"Of course ye saw him in yer 'drame'.
What did he look like?" and Tobe weighed
each word as he asked the question.
us.
66
The very picture of you," answered Sham-
Tobe jumped up, knife in hand, and rushed
upon Shamus, but quick as thought the "vag-
abone" had him by the wrist, and held his
hand aloft.
"I was about to tell ye Tobe, how the
murderer said he dun it, but you wor goin'
to save me the trouble, by plungin' that
knife into my side, just as he said he plunged
it into the side of the holy man, an' that
knife that ye hould in yer hand is the very
picture of the one he said he kilt him wid.
Look, Tobe, look, there's human blood upon
it!"
Tobe dropped the knife, and with a cry of
AN HOUR'S TRIUMPH.
189
horror, rushed into the Sack O' Flour.
"The hot irons is burnin' his feet," said
Shamus, as he picked up the knife, and in
true brigand fashion, placed it in the waist.
band of his breeches under his coat. "I'll
keep this for fear he'd make away wid it. It'll
never cut another morsel o' bread or mate for
Tobe O'Keefe or his customers. All I'm
afeared of is, that I made the irons too hot,
an' that he'll suspect me of knowin' too much
an' give me the slip. Well, I'll not lose sight
him for long anyway. I'll find Con Fagin, an'
sind him to Cork for the Sheriff." As Shamus
started on his mission, he was hailed by
Danny.
"Shamus," said the little voice in a whisp-
er, "come up here I have a power to tell ye,
about what I heard thim say.
22
"I haven't time now Danny, wait till I
come back. Don't stir from where ye are,
unless ye see yer uncle Tobe lave the Sack O'
Flour. If ye do, folly him, an' let me know
where he's gone.
22
Danny withdrew into the loft, as Shamus
wended his way up the road in the direction
of the Lover's Lane.
In a few moments Tobe came from the Sack
190
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
O' Flour, looking ten years older since Sham-
us told him there was human blood upon the
knife. "He's gone," said the poor haunted
creature, "gone, an' taken the knife wid him.
So much the better he took it, to put it in ivi-
dence again me, but I'll turn the tables upon
him. So 'tis him that was in the tree, an'
nearly frightened the life out o' me; made me
confess an—but no jury would believe that
I was such a fool. Folly on Shamus Roe;
you had your fling last night, I think it'll be
mine to-day, for before the night falls, I'll
have you where ye can drame to yer heart's
content, an' in the mornin' have no one to
tell it to. Ah, if I had only took a drain o'
this wid me last night (Tobe referred to the
contents of the bottle) neither man nor divil
would make me confess what I did." Filling
a glass he was about to raise it to his lips,
when he paused, and laid the glass on the
table. "I'll drink no more to-day, as Maurice
Ronyane says I must collect my thoughts
to see what's before me."
Ah, if Tobe O'Keefe only knew what was
before him as he sat at the table to collect
his thoughts!
While Shamus Roe was relating his
AN HOUR'S TRIUMPH.
191
"drame" to Tobe, Tyler McCabe was seated
near the window in Alice Moyne's cottage
diligently searching the Marriage Record of
St. Mary's, for the names of her father and
mother, but his search was in vain.
"I'll go over it once again," said the per-
sistent schoolmaster, "the names must be
here or else there's been foul play."
"Of course there's been foul play," said
Neil Brandon, who a few moments before had
joined the party in the cottage, "and Maur-
ice Ronyane knows all about it.”
"To give the divil his jew," said Jerry Roe
"I don't believe Ronyane ever saw that book
till last night, but thin he might
22
"Aisy," exclaimed the schoolmaster, inter-
rupting Jerry, "aisy, what's this?"
They all gathered around the man of
"larnin' ".
"See," he continued, "on the bottom of
this page is the name of John Dargin to
Mary
Ye can see there wasn't room
enough to finish the name, and here," as he
turned over a page, "begins a new entry at
the top of this page, leaving the name of
John Dargin's wife Mary to yer imagination.
My friends, there's been a lafe taken from
192
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
this book."
"And on that leaf was registered the names
of my father and mother," said Alice Moyne.
"Well," and the schoolmaster shook his
head, "I don't think the names of anyone is
on it to-day, for whoever cut that lafe out o'
this book has destroyed it."
There was a knock at the cottage door.
"Come in," said Alice.
The door swung open and Maurice Ronyane
entered. "I beg your pardon," said the in-
truder, "I thought Miss Moyne was alone."
He was about to retire when Alice spoke.
"These are my friends, sir, and if you have
anything to say to me, it can be said in their
presence.
""
"Your friends are my friends, I trust," and
there was suavity in the voice of the double-
faced scoundrel as he bowed low and con-
tinued: "I have very little to say to you at
present. I merely came to get your acknow-
ledgement of the truth of my assertion. I
refer to the Marriage Record of Saint Mary's.
The truth of your assertion I will never
acknowledge," replied Alice. "There has
been a page stolen from that book, and on
that page was recorded my father and
AN HOUR'S TRIUMPH.
193
mother's marriage.'
22
"Absurd," laughed Ronyane. "Yet for
the sake of argument, admitting that a page
has been abstracted, why that particular
page, while all the others remain intact?"
"Because," replied Alice. "On that par-
ticular page was the obstacle that barred
your way to the accession of this estate."
"Your words, I take it Miss Moyne, are
meant to cast a slur upon my honor."
"Your honor," said Neil Brandon, sneer-
ingly. "I doubt if you know the meaning
of the word."
"For which
which doubt,'
doubt," replied Ronyane,
angrily, "I would call you to account if
you were a gentleman."
"If such as you lay claim to the term
gentleman, I thank heaven I am not in the
same category. But I am a man," said Neil,
proudly, "and as such I will hold you re-
sponsible for your cowardly persecution of
this lady."
You hold me responsible," Ronyane
laughed scornfully. "Look you, sir, for
aught I may say or do, I will not be held
responsible by a thief."
Neil Brandon jumped up, and was about
194
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
to rush at Ronyane, when the voice of Alice
Moyne recalled him to his senses.
"Remember," said the terrified girl. "Neil
Brandon, remember where you are!"
"You can see," said Ronyane, glad and
lucky at the interference of Alice, "what a
boor he is, a person who knew anything
would not be remiss in courtsey to a gentle-
man beneath his own roof."
"I deny that yer beneath yer own roof,"
and the tall form of Tyler McCabe confronted
Ronyane, "before ye lay claim to a slate upon
it, we'll have recourse to the law," Mr.
Maurice Ronyane.
"The sooner you have recourse to the law,"
replied Ronyane, "the sooner will I come into
possession of what belongs to me, Mr. Tyler
McCabe.
"Ah, thin," said Jerry Roe, "if the law
gives you possession of what belongs to ye,
it'll give ye possession of a prison cell."
"I'll have my say to you later on, Mr. Jerry
Roe."
Bowing to Alice,
to Alice, Ronyane left the
cottage. As he proceeded towards the Sack
O' Flour, his thoughts made him laugh, they
ran thus: "I've stirred them up, they are
*
AN HOUR'S TRIUMPH.
195
like a swarm of bees, and become aggressive
when you would remove the hive that covers
them, but the leaf burned by Tobe O'Keefe,
renders their sting powerless. "Ah, this is
indeed, an hour of triumph.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE MISSING LEAF.
AFTER leaving the mill, Shamus Roe lost no
time in reaching the cottage of Mrs. Grady,
that being the most likely place to find Con
Fagin, but there disappointment awaited
him, for, contrary to his usual custom, on
that day Con failed to put in an appearance.
"Won't ye go inside an' see Nancy," asked
the good widow, whom Shamus found (to use
her own expression) "up to her nick in suds."
"No, thank ye mam," replied Shamus,
"I've no time for Nancy to-day."
"No, nor any other day;" and Mrs. Grady
threw a bundle of unwashed clothes into the
tub, spattering Shamus all over with soap
suds. "Since Hannora McCabe kem to the
fore, I suppose my daughter's not good
THE MISSING LEAF.
197
enough for ye."
"Hannora McCabe, mam, has always been
to the fore wid me," said Shamus, as he
rubbed his clothes with a cotton handker-
chief, "an' as for your daughter, she's good
enough for any honest boy, but 'tis not a
wife I'm huntin' to-day Mrs. Grady, but Con
Fagin." So saying, Shamus turned upon
his heel, and left the widow to her washing.
As the "vagabone" turned into the Lover's
Lane, on his way back to the mill, giving up
all hope for the present of finding Con, and
fearful of Tobe giving him the slip, he dis-
tinctly heard some one calling him by name.
Looking up the lane he saw the weird form
of Abby Creigh approaching him from the
direction of the haunted chapel. He was
about to run, when she summoned him to
stop, and very reluctantly he obeyed her.
On nearing him, she put the question.
"Are you afraid of me, Shamus Roe?"
"No, ma-mam, but I'm in a great hurry,"
stammered Shamus, as he moved a step or
two away from her.
"Stay where you are," said she, as she took
from her bosom a small folded paper, and
held it up.
"Do you know what this is?"
198
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
"Yis, mam, 'tis a piece o' paper I think,
replied Shamus.
27
"Tis a leaf taken from the Marriage Rec-
ord of Saint Mary's; I cut it out myself.
""
"Did ye, mam; well I suppose ye had a
right to cut it out if ye plased."
เ
"They think I'm mad," and Abby laughed,
"Do you think I'm mad?"
"Well, mam, ye see I'm a poor judge o'
madness. I'm a better judge o' whate, an' if
ye plaze, mam, I must be goin'-
""
"Aha!" cried the poor woman, "I'm sane
enough to foil them in their attempt to ruin
the good name of an honest girl. I've always
liked Alice Moyne."
For the first time, since Abby took the
paper from her bosom, it dawned upon the
mind of Shamus that perhaps that was the
paper to make the heart of Alice Moyne glad,
for in his anxiety to get away from the mad
woman he never gave a thought to the book
taken from Maurice Ronyane, even when
Abby mentioned it to him.
"De ye mane to tell me, mam, that that's
the piece o' paper wid the names of Miss
Moyne's father and mother upon it?"
"Yes. Here, take it to her," and she
*
THE MISSING LEAF.
199
handed Shamus the missing leaf. Tell her I
took it from the book to save her good name
and baffle two villains."
"The Lord bless ye for it, mam. Miss, sure
'tis the good news this'll be to her."
"Good news! Yes, there's good news for
every one but me. Take it to her while I go
and continue my search."
"Did ye lose something, mam?" asked
Shamus, as Abby turned away.
"Lose something," said Abby as she again
faced Shamus, lose something! Why, did ye
not know? I lost my brother Owen, and I'm
searching day and night for his murderer,
but all in vain-all in vain.’
66
22
'Well, mam, it'll be vain no longer, as I've
found the murderer of Father Owen."
เเ
Found him, did you say?" and there came a
scream from Abby that turned the blood cold
in the veins of Shamus Roe. "Where, where
is he?"
"Below, near the mill, ma'am, and as one
good turn deserves another, if ye'll be at the
mill in about an hour I'll show him to ye, for
to-day, wid the help o' God, I'll give him into
the hands of the law."
"Law," cried the demented creature, "what
200 THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
law should there be for such as he? Ah yes,
the law of the Jews, an eye for an eye, a
tooth for a tooth,' '" and leaving Shamus she
ran, laughing wildly, up the lane towards
the haunted chapel.
Shamus placed the precious piece of paper
in the inside pocket of his waistcoat and
walked slowly back to the mill. He also
wanted to collect his thoughts and lay out
his plan of battle, as he had several batteries
already loaded and primed to open on the
two conspirators, but didn't know which one
to fire first. As he approached the mill, he
saw Ronyane and O'Keefe seated at the table
near the Sack O' Flour.
"Why are you not at your morning's work?”
was Ronyane's greeting.
"I am," replied Shamus, "an' 'tis the best
mornin's work I iver dun."
"Out hunting blackbirds again, I suppose;
did you find any?"
"No, I have as many as I can keep my eye
on at present.
19
"See here, Roe," said Ronyane mockingly,
"you've mistaken your vocation, you'd make
a good Scotland Yard man.
22
"I'm content enough," replied Shamus, as
THE MISSING LEAF.
201
he sat on a pile of sacks, "to be a good Glan-
mire man."
""
"I'm afraid your usefulness in Glanmire
has reached its limit."
"Well, I dunno," said Shamus, lighting his
pipe, "but I'll stay here anyway till you get
yours."
"Until I get what?"
"Your limit," and Shamus blew the smoke
above his head.
""
"What do you mean, said Ronyane.
rising and approaching Shamus.
"Just what I said," and Shamus puffed
away.
"You said you would remain here until I
got my limit."
"No! I said I'd stay here an' that's what
I mane."
"Now let me tell you what I mean: First,
you are no longer in my employ.
"Which manes that I'm not to work for
ye any more?"
"That is just what it means.
"Then ye have nothin' to say if I work
agin ye?"
"That is what you have been doing ever
since you entered the mill. You confessed
202 THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
to Tobe O'Keefe that you know who robbed
me."
"I know who robbed the mill, if that's
what ye mane.
,,
27
"And yet you have not given him up to
justice, which proves you to be an accessory.
"A which?" And Shamus blew a cloud
of smoke in Ronyane's face.
"A party to the act," replied Ronyane,
coughing.
"It was a dirty act, an' dun by a dirty
blackguard.
22
"Of course; and yet you allow him to
mingle with honest men."
"Birds of a feather'll flock together. Thim
that I've seen him wid are as bad as himself."
"And are all in league against me. Take
my advice, Shamus Roe, prefer the charge
of robbery against him, or I'll have you both
safely lodged in jail before night."
"Is it the thief and me? Oh, he'll be
there safe enough; but as for me I'm com-
fortable in the lodgin's I'm in. Now let me
tell you what I mane." Shamus raised from
the sack and shook the ashes from his pipe.
"Fust? I'll not take your discharge from
the mill, for I'll stay there in spite o' ye;
THE MISSING LEAF.
203
nixt, if ye ever agin accuse me o' bein' a
acciss or what ever ye call it, in place
o' your sindin' me to the jail, I'll sind you to
the hospital. Ye know me, Maurice Ronyane,
an' ye know I'll keep my word." An the
vagabone looked him straight in the eye.
"Come away from him, come away!" cried
Tobe, as he ran to Ronyane and drew him
away from Shamus, "he has a knife upon
him, an' may be tempted to use it, come lave
us go inside."
"Your threatening me in the presence of
this witness, Shamus Roe, will be another
mark against you," said Ronyane, as he en-
tered the Sack O' Flour, followed by Tobe.
"Any marks that you have agin me,"
shouted Shamus, "I'll rub out as clanely as I
did the figures on Tobe's slate."
Shamus turned to go to the cottage to de-
liver to Alice Moyne Abby Creigh's message
and the missing leaf, when he saw Hannora
coming towards him, sobbing as though her
heart would break.
"Hannora darlin'," said the "vagabone,"
as he put his arm around her waist, "is it
cryin' ye are this beautiful mornin'?"
"Is it laughin' ye'd have me?" replied
P
204 THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
Hannora between her sobs, "an' we all in so
much trouble."
"Ah, throw yer trouble to the winds,
laughed Shamus, as he drew her towards him
and kissed her. "Sure I'm bilin' over wid
joy.'
22
"Joy!" exclaimed the astonished Hannora.
""
99
"Yis, I've a load of it here on my heart,
and Shamus placed his hand over the missing
page. "Nora, dear, I've that inside o' my
waistcoat that'll make ye all dance wid joy.
"Yerra, what have ye there, Shamus?"
He was about to tell her, when he hesitated.
"No," said he aside, "I'll surprise thim all at
once."
"Shamus, dear, what is it?"
"What's what, Nora?"
"That that ye have inside yer waistcoat
an'll make us all dance wid joy."
"Did I say I had somethin' there that'd
make ye all dance?"
"Yis, wid joy, Shamus."
"Well, 'tis there yet, an' 'tis somethin' ye'd
give yer two blessed eyes for."
"Thin why don't ye tell me what it is ?
""
"Bekase I'm afeared ye might tell some of
the girls an' they might stale it."
THE MISSING LEAF.
205
"The sorra's the word will I say about it."
"Will ye promise me that, Hannora?"
"I will, Shamus."
८
"Thin, darlin' I'll tell ye. Inside o' my
waistcoat is meself." And Shamus laughed
loudly.
"Well, 'tis not much that's inside it, bad
cess to ye," said Hannora angrily, "ye ought
to be ashamed o' yerself Shamus Roe, laughin'
like that whin poor Alice Moyne is cryin' her
eyes out."
"What is she cryin' about?" innocently
asked Shamus.
"The missin' lafe out o' the book, an' she's
afeared it'll never be found."
"Who says it'll never be found.'
"My father."
"Your father's an ould jackass.
22
29
"What's that," screamed Hannora.
"I mane your father is a schoolmaster, an'
a grate man; but schoolmasters an' grate
min don't know everything. Who tould her
there was a missin' lafe?"
"My father; didn't he go through the
book."
"Ah, Nora, dear, 'tis many a book your
father wint through, an' 'tis many a lafe
206
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
he missed."
66
'Twould be well for you, Shamus Roe, if
ye wor half as well larned as my father."
"There isn't a man in Glanmire," said
Shamus, with an air of consequence, "knows
half as much as I do to-day.'
"My, my, but it is a grate opinion we
have of ourselves. Was it a fairy ye kissed
this mornin' that gave ye all this know-
ledge?'
"No, dear," replied Shamus. "'Twas an
angel I kissed this mornin' whin I kissed
you."
22
"Well, if ye do it agin I'll slap your face."
"I'll take slaps all day for kisses from ye.
And the brawny fellow put his arms around
her and drew her towards bim. A scream,
loud and strong from the imprisoned Nora,
brought the schoolmaster, Jerry, Neil and
Alice to her side.
"What ails ye, Hannora?" asked her
father. "What made ye screech?"
"He did wid his goin's on," cried the girl
as she ran to her father's arms. "I believe
he's mad. Keep him away from me." "Yerra,
don't mind her, schoolmaster," laughed
Shamus. "Sure 'tis only the joy that's in
THE MISSING LEAF.
207
me that makes me a trifle playful."
"Fitter for ye be a trifle sober; wor ye
drinkin' again?" asked Jerry.
"Yis, sur, I was," humbly replied Shamus.
"Oh, Shamus, Shamus!" said Alice re
proachfully.
"What wor ye drinkin' ye blackguard,
asked the miller. "Was it whiskey?"
"No, sur, 'twas the jew from Hannora's
lips whin she screeched.'
In despite of their depressed spirits, there
was a supressed laugh at the vagabone's re-
ply.
"Out o' my sight, an' go to yer work,” said
Jerry as he turned aside to hide the smile on
his good natured face.
"Where'll I go to work uncle Jurry?"
"In the mill, of course; where else would
ye go?"
"I can't do it, sur,"
"Why not?"
"Bekase I'm discharged."
"Who discharged ye?"
"Him that says he has the right, Maurice
Ronyane."
"He's beginning soon," said Tyler McCabe.
"Yis, sur, but his ind'll be all the sooner,
208
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
wait," and Shamus gave the schoolmaster a
knowing wink.
The bell rang the noon hour, as Ronyane
and Tobe emerged from the Sack O' Flour.
There was a smile on the senior partner's
face, as the men came from the mill. "Wait
boys," said he, "I've something to say to
you.
""
The millers turned towards Ronyane, and
in respectful silence, waited to hear what he
had to say.
"You all know that the mill has been
robbed."
"Yis, sur, we do," and James Dooley, an
old miller stepped forward; "An' we all
thank God that none of us was there whin
'twas dun."
"Had you been there at the time, my friends
you would not have been suspected. I know
who the thief is."
"Oh, indeed ye do," laughed Shamus.
"And so does Shamus Roe; he confessed
as much to Mr. O'Keefe.'
""
"Yis, boys, I did; I tould Mister O'Keefe
that I knew who the thief was."
There was a puzzled expression on the faces
of all as they looked at each other.
THE MISSING LEAF.
209
"You are honest hard-working men," said
Ronyane, "and would not have a thief
amongst you if you knew him to be such."
"No sir, we would not," came from all the
millers.
เเ
'And yet, without knowing him to be such,
the thief who robbed the mill has been among
you for years.
"Yis, boys, said Shamus, "ye've seen him
ivery day, an' he's here this very minute, bad
luck to him.”
"Who is he, Shamus?" asked James Dooley,
"pint him out to us."
"I will?"
"One moment?" interrupted Ronyane.
"I'm in no hurry," said Shamus, as he
looked at Tobe, "the thief is on the griddle
an' I'd like to keep him there a little longer.
6
22
"My friends, as I have no doubt the thief,
when he is named, will attempt to escape,
those of you who will assist me in preventing
him shall have constant employment in the
mill, for, remember, I will have sole possession
of it the first of the month."
Ronyane looked at Alice Moyne and her
friends to see what effect his words had upon
them.
210
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
"Boys," said Shamus, "Mr. Ronyane'd
make a good praycher, that is if he'd only
prache from the right book, an' not count
his chickens before they're hatched; he has
no eggs, an' he won't have sole possession o'
the mill the first o' the month."
There was an amused smile on Ronyane's
face, as he asked, "Who will prevent me,
pray?
22
"I'm not in the humor to pray," said
Shamus, misunderstanding the application
of the word, "but I'll tell ye who'll prevent
ye, the owner o' the mill, Alice Moyne.
""
Ronyane laughed loudly. "I defy Alice
Moyne, or any of her friends to prove
that she owns a blade of grass on this estate."
"A blade o' grass," replied Shamus. ‘I,
as one o' her frinds, can prove that she owns
enough o' grass on this estate to feed ould
Nancy beyant for the rest o' her life."
"Indeed, how can you prove it?"
"By bringing from its hidin' place, the
missin' lafe from the Marriage Record, o'
Saint Mary's, wid her father an' mother's
names on it, an' here it is," said Shamus, as
he held it up.
There was a cry of joy from Alice as she
THE MISSING LEAF.
211
snatched the leaf from the hand of Shamus,
while consternation was plainly fixed on the
face of Maurice Ronyane.
"It is a forgery," yelled the baffled conspir-
ator.
"That's for you to prove," answered Sham-
us; "Ye'll have a good witness in Abby
Creigh, for 'twas her that took it from the
book, to privint you, an' yer hinchman, Tobe
O'Keefe, from makin' a bonfire out of it."
and with a laugh, the "vagabone" joined the
others who had gathered around Alice Moyne
to congratulate her, which fact prevented
their seeing Ronyane seize Tobe by the throat
as he hissed in his ear:
"D-n you, you have lied to me; you told
me you burned it."
"Lave go o' my nick,
my nick," cried the almost
strangled wretch, "lave it go, I say, or I'll
tell all."
The threat had its effect for, with a sup-
pressed oath, Ronyane pushed him away.
"Whisper Shamus," said Hannora, as she
called him away from the others, "there's
some more jew on my lips; ye may drink it
an' I'll not screech."
After Shamus had moistened his lips with
212 THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
the nectar from Hannora's, he saw Tobe
sneaking away towards his lair.
"Stay where ye are, Tobe O'Keefe."
"What de ye want wid me, Shamus Roe?"
asked Tobe, as he turned and faced Shamus.
"I want to tell all here who ye are."
"Ah, sure all here knows me well enough,
replied Tobe uneasily.
22
"Yis," said Shamus, "as the smilin' vaga-
bone o' the Sack O' Flour, but not as the
snakin' thief who robbed the mill.”
“'Tis a lie boys, 'tis a lie," screamed Tobe,
"Shamus Roe only wants to save himself an'
Nale Brandon; they're the thieves, boys,
they're the thieves; take thim up."
But not a soul moved to lay their hands
on Neil or Shamus.
You know me very well, Mr. Dooley,"
said the cringing creature to the old miller.
"Oh, indade I do, Mr. O'Keefe," replied
James Dooley, "I know ye very well; but
divil a much good do I know about ye."
As a last effort to save himself, Tobe ap-
proached Shamus and whispered in his ear,
but loud enough for the others to hear, so
that it would have the desired effect:
"Ye know well Shamus Roe, that I have a
THE MISSING LEAF.
213
charge agin you that would sind ye to the
gallows."
"Sind me to the gallows!" repeated Sham-
us, as he laughed loudly.
"Yis, an' ye want to get me out o' the way
so I'll say nothin'."
"Well Tobe, we'll hear your charge byme-
by. Now I charge you wid robbin' the mill."
"Ye lie, ye can't prove it."
"Wait Tobe," and Shamus called "Danny!
Danny!"
"Here I am, Shamus," said the little fellow,
as he appeared in the window of the loft.
At the sound of his voice, all turned in the
direction of the mill, and looked at the "mite"
standing in the window, Tobe with his eyes
almost bursting out of their sockets.
"Danny, who robbed the mill?" asked
Shamus.
""Twas my uncle Tobe, sur," said the
small voice.
"Ye lie, ye divil's toad, ye lie!" roared
Tobe, as he rushed towards the mill, but was
held back by the men.
"Come down here, Danny, come," said
Shamus coaxingly.
"I'm afeared to come down Shamus,
2.
214
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
replied the boy.
"An' well ye may," cried the enraged Tobe,
"for if I lay my hand upon ye, I'll skin ye
alive."
"Lave go his hands boys," said Shamus
to the millers, who had hold of Tobe, "I'll
answer for him, that he'll not lay the weight
o' one o' thim upon that child; come down
Danny."
Danny descended by aid of the open mill
door, and ran to the side of Shamus.
1
"Now Danny, tell us, what time did the
robbery take place?"
"'Twas the mid-day hour, Shamus."
"An' where were you, Danny?"
"Above in the loft, sur."
"Now, Danny, the coort is open; tell us
in yer own way (as the liars say) what ye
heard an' saw that mid-day hour."
"Well, sur, I heard the bell ring an' saw
the min, through a knot-hole near the windy,
go to their dinner. I was hungry, meself, so
I got up and looked about to be sure that me
Uncle Tobe was not to the fore, and couldn't
bate me, thin I could go and borry the bite
to ate. Well, sur, as I stood in the windy
above who should I see comin' from the Sack
THE MISSING LEAF.
215
2
O' Flour but my uncle an' Mr. Ronyane; they
talked about Nale Brandon. Mr. Ronyane
said he'd keep him long enough away for my
uncle to do the job, thin he folly'd Nale down
the river road an' my uncle wint in the mill.
Soon he kem out wid his hands full of money;
he put it in Nale's coat an' said he'd drive
him out o' Glanmire in disgrace; thin he
wint in the Sack O' Flour."
"Thin what did you do, Danny?" asked
Shamus.
"I kem down an' took the money out o'
Nale's coat for fear he'd be took up for
stalin' it.'
"Where was Nale' coat?"
"On the schoolmaster's cart."
"And where was the cart, Danny?'
"Just where it is now, sur."
As all present knew the location of the
cart, none of them looked around, so intent
were they on hearing all that Danny said,
and they would not remove their eyes from
him, fearful of losing an expression of his
face. Had any of them looked towards the
cart they might have seen the crouching
form of Abby Creigh listening to every
word.
216
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
"Tell me Danny," said the schoolmaster.
"Was-
22
"Ah," interrupted Tobe. "What's the
use o' all this catechism. I took the money
but I didn't stale it, an' I dun it all at the
biddin' o' Maurice Ronyane."
All turned expecting to hear Ronyane
deny the accusation, but to their amazement,
that worthy gentleman was missing. During
the recital of Danny's story, like a whipped
cur, he slunk away and disappeared, leaving
his confederate, Tobe O'Keefe, to his fate.
"He's gone," said Shamus, as he looked
around.
"After him, boys, after him," roared
Tobe. "Don't lave him escape.
Ketch
him, ketch him!"
"No," said Alice Moyne.
"Let him go,
his conscience will punish him enough."
Conscience! He has
He has no conscience,"
winced Tobe, "or he wouldn't lave me here
like this. He's as guilty as I am. Thin
why don't ye want him took up?"
"For his mother's sake,” replied Alice.
"Of course, that's always the way. Him
an' her belongs to the quality below in Cork.
I'm a poor man an' must suffer, while he
THE MISSING LEAF.
217
goes free."
"You shall also go free," said Alice, "on
one condition, and that is that you pack
what belongs to you in the Sack O' Flour,
and with your belongings leave this neighbor-
hood. If, when that bell strikes six this
evening you are found in this vicinity, I will
not be answerable for your freedom."
"Aisy, Miss Alice, aisy," and Shamus
stepped forward, "I have a more serious
charge agin him than the robbery of the
mill."
"Listen all o' ye to my charge agin him,
said Tobe malignantly.
22
"Well Tobe," laughed Shamus, "turn
about is fair play, what de ye charge me wid."
"The murder o' Father Owen Creigh, no
less," said Tobe spitefully.
All looked in astonishment at the audac-
ious wretch who had the assurance to make
such a charge against everybody's favorite,
Shamus Roe, while the "vagabone" himself
was convulsed with laughter.
"Laugh away Shamus Roe," said Tobe,
it'll do ye no good. Look at this, school-
master." Tobe took a folded paper from his
pocket and handed it to Tyler McCabe,
218
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
"Read it, Mr. McCabe; I was goin' to sind it
by Maurice Ronyane to Cork, but he gave me
the slip, bad luck to him."
The schoolmaster opened the paper, and
read aloud:
TO THE SHERIFF OF CORK COUNTY:-If ye'll sind at once
a parcel o' min up the lower road to the mill o' Mr. Rony ane,
I'll give up to ye, Shamus Roe. He murdered the priest,
Father Owen, two years ago; he tould me so. I'll be lookin'
for ye soon.
TOBE O'KEEFE.
"What do you mane by this?" asked the
schoolmaster.
"Ain't it plane enough?" answered Tobe.
"I mane that he kilt Father Owen, an' I'm
goin' to have him took up.
Astonishment at the audacity of Tobe made
Shamus Roe dumb.
"Sarch him, schoolmaster," continued O'-
Keefe, "an ye'll find a knife upon him."
"A knife!" exclaimed Jerry Roe.
"Yis," said Tobe, "sarch him.”
"What knife are ye talkin' about man?"
asked Tyler.
"The knife that kilt Father Owen," said
Shamus, as he took it from the waistband of
his breeches, and held it up.
There was a cry of horror from the women
while the men shuddered, as Shamus held
THE MISSING LEAF.
&
219
the shining blade aloft.
"Where did ye get that knife Shamus?"
asked his uncle.
"There," said Shamus, as he threw the
knife on the table.
""Tis a lie!" shouted Tobe, "he had it
wid him ever since the priest was kilt, he
tould me so.'
""
"Who tould ye so?" inquired the school-
master.
"Shamus Roe, last night, above on the
crag.
"What wor you doin'
Shamus interrupted his uncle.
"Lave him go on, uncle Jurry, I want ye
all to hear what I tould him; folly on Tobe,
what did I tell ye last night on the crag?"
"I'll tell ye the truth, boys," said Tobe with-
out a tremor of the voice. "I wint up last
night to the haunted chapel wid Maurice
Ronyane, to get the book for to show Alice
Moyne. Whin he wint inside o' the chapel,
I staid on the outside for fear anyone'd come,
an' I was to warn him. Well, I was there
for a short spell, whin who should I see be
the moonlight, comin' up the lane, but Sham-
us Roe. What can he want here at this hour
220
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
o' the night say's I to meself, sure it can't be
for any good that he's comin' upon the crag;
so up I climbs in a tree to watch him; he
sat upon the wall just under me, he began to
smoke his pipe. He was puffin' away hard
an' fast, whin the ould organ inside o' the
chapel began to play. That must have
frightened the life nearly out o' him, for he
took to his heels. "Stay where ye are," says
I.· "Who are ye?" says he, comin' to a full
stop. "The ghost o' Father Owen," says I.
At that boys, he fell upon his knees, an' axin'
me to forgive him, confessed that it was he
that dun the murder. That's the truth, an'
I'll swear to it."
"Well, Tobe," said Shamus, "after that
I'll give ye credit for havin' brass enough to
swear the horns off the divil's forehead.
Listen to me, boys," and Shamus turned
towards the millers. "That's the very story
I was goin' to tell meself, only that it was I
that was in the tree, an' that murtherin
villain was grovelin in the dust below me;
he kilt Father Owen, an' the knife, his knife,
lyin' on that table is the weapon with which
it was dun, an' his hand the hand that
dun it."
THE MISSING LEAF.
221
"Don't believe him, boys, ah, don't believe
him," whined Tobe.
"Aisy, Mr. O'Keefe," said Tim Hogan, a
miller who had over two months' account on
Tobe's slate. "We've heard your story, an'
I think that's its no more than our juty to
hould Shamus Roe till the shiriff comes."
"Av course 'tis yer juty, Mr. Hogan,"
cried Tobe.
99 -
"Take hould o' him, boys," said Tobe's
friend. There was a movement of two or
three of the millers towards Shamus as
Little Danny stepped between him and them.
"If ye plaze, don't touch Shamus Roe,"
said the boy. "It wasn't him that dun it.
It was my uncle. Sarch him an' ye'll find
inside o' his waistcoat the sale ring o' Father
Owen.
"Out upon ye, ye imp o' darkness,"
screamed Tobe, as he rushed between the
millers, and ran down the road towards the
river.
"Come, boys, lets after him; don't lave him
escape,” shouted Shamus.
"Stay where ye are, commanded Tyler
McCabe, as the men were about to follow
Tobe, "and hear me; don't be led into any
1
222
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
deed of violence, boys, I believe Tobe O'Keefe
confessed to Shamus Roe that he done the
murder, but that confession was done through
fear, as the superstitious fool thought he
was talking to a ghost, and no jury in the
land would convict him on the confession.
"But the ring," said Shamus.
"Is in the river by this time," replied the
schoolmaster, "or I don't know Tobe O'Keefe ;
he'll come back, take my word for it; he'll
not desart the Sack O' Flour, while there's a
thing in it that belongs to him. Murder will
out, boys, and now that we have a clue, we'll
folly it up, but we must have stronger proof
than a confession made through fear."
"The schoolmaster's right," said Jerry Roe.
"Go to your dinners boys; take yer time over
yer male. Say nothin' about what ye heard
here, an' we may cage the fox yet."
There was grumbling among some of the
millers (who were evidently dissatisfied at
the turn affairs had taken) as they started
for their respective homes.
The voice of Molly Duffy, who was stand-
ing in the cottage door, was heard calling:
"Miss Alice, the dinner'll spile if ye
come an' ate it."
don't
પૂ.
THE MISSING LEAF.
223
"Lave it spile," said Shamus sulkily, out
of temper with the schoolmaster for prevent-
ing him from following Tobe.
"That would be a sin, Shamus," replied
Tyler (who never was known to let a dinner
spile). "Come lave us go, an' before par-
takin' of our noon-day male, lave us humbly
bow our heads to God, and thank him for
the many blessin's he has bestowed on us.
""
In silence, but with joy in their hearts,
the little party, led by Alice and Neil, entered
the cottage.
As the door closed upon them, Abby
Creigh came from behind the cart, and look-
ing cautiously around stealthily approached
the table; picking up the knife which Shamus
Roe had thrown there, she concealed it in the
folds of her shawl, and started down the
river road in the same direction that Tobe
O'Keefe had gone.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
AGAIN did the bell on the old mill give
forth its sonorous sound, but as yet none of
the millers (save Paddy, the bellringer) had
returned to resume their labors, for the reason,
I suppose, that Jerry Roe had told them to
"take time over their male." His friends in
the cottage were certainly following his ad-
vice, for none of them had risen from Alice
Moyne's table, until they were startled by a
loud knocking at the cottage door. Neil
Brandon opened the door, and there found
James Dooley, pale and trembling, and almost
out of breath.
"What is it, Dooley, what's the matter?"
asked Neil.
"Oh, sur; Mr. Brandon, come some o' ye
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
225
quick,” replied Dooley, "Tobe O'Keefe, sur.'
"Has he come back?" inquired Shamus,
as he rushed out of the cottage.
1
"No fear o' him comin' back, Shamus,'
answered Dooley.
99
22
"Thin what about him?" asked the school-
master.
"He's dead, sur."
"Dead!"
"Yis sur, wid a knife in his heart, below
on the river's bank.""
"God be merciful to him!" exclaimed the
schoolmaster, as they all followed James
Dooley down the river road, and there near
the beautiful river Lee, lay Tobe O'Keefe,
his own knife buried to the hilt in his heart.
Next day, the Coronor's jury returned a
verdict of suicide. Let us hope that their
verdict was a truthful one; be that as it
may.
After Tobe O'Keefe's death, the "beautiful
music” was never heard in the little chapel
on the crag; nor was poor demented Abby
Creigh ever seen in or about Glanmire.
The contents of the Sack O' Flour (slate
and all) made a beautyfull bonfire for the
boys. The little cabin stands where it did,
226
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
but is now used as an office, where the miller
transacts his business. Peace and plenty to-
day reign supreme in the vicinity of the
old mill. Maurice Ronyane is often seen at
his club in Cork, but he never visits that
part of Glanmire where we last saw him.
Con Fagin and Mary Grady are married;
Nancy is determined to die an old maid,
while Mrs. Grady still goes out, now an' thin,
to do the bit o' washin' for the quality.
After his uncle's death, Danny was sent
for a few years to school, and is now head
man in the mill, taking Neil Brandon's place.
In a beautiful cottage on Barrack Hill (in
the city) lives Neil Brandon (now a prosper-
ous wholesale flour merchant on Pk st.)
and his beautiful wife, Alice.
Tyler McCabe, the schoolmaster, has
to join Hannora's mother.
gone
While our old friend, Jerry Roe, has re-
tired from business, his only occupation now,
is to sit in front of his cottage (once Alice
Moyne's) and watch Tyler, Alice and Jerry,
children of Shamus and Hannora, play upon
the green.
The bell rings as usual; the old wheel re-
volves as of yore. There is no change about
THE MILLER OF GLANMIRE.
227
the mill, save one; instead of the sign which
first greeted your eye, Ronyane & Roe, you
will now read Shamus Roe, "the Miller of
Glanmire."
THE END.

812 M952
ом

wils
UNIVERSITY OF MINNESOTA
812M952 OM
Murphy, Con T.
The miller of Glanmire: an Irish story.
3 1951 002 087 444 E
WILSON
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