"Oh! not a morning but I'm there the first thing, asking, and longing for them."

"Lie back, Moriarty, in the carriage, and pull your hat over your face,"

whispered Ormond: "postilions, drive on to that little cabin, with the trees about it, at the foot of the hill." This was Moriarty's cabin.

When they stopped, poor Peggy was called out. Alas! how altered from the dancing, sprightly, blooming girl, whom Ormond had known so few years since in the Black Islands! How different from the happy wife, whom he had left, comfortably settled in a cottage suited to her station and her wishes! She was thin, pale, and haggard--her dress was neglected--an ill-nursed child, that she had in her arms she gave to a young girl near her. Approaching the carriage, and seeing Harry Ormond, she seemed ready to sink into the earth: however, after having drank some water, she recovered sufficiently to be able to answer Ormond's inquiries.

"What do you intend to do, Peggy?"

"Do, sir!--go to America, to join my husband sure; every thing was to have been sold, Monday last--but n.o.body has any money--and I am tould it will cost a great deal to get across the sea."

At this she burst into tears and cried most bitterly; and at this moment the carriage door flew open--Moriarty's impatience could be no longer restrained--he flung himself into the arms of his wife.

Leaving this happy and innocent couple to enjoy their felicity we proceed to Castle Hermitage.

Ormond directed the postilions to go the back way to the house. They drove down the old avenue.

Presently they saw a boy, who seemed to be standing on the watch, run back towards the castle, leaping over hedge and ditch with desperate haste. Then came running from the house three men, calling to one another to shut the gates for the love of G.o.d!

They all ran towards the gateway through which the postilions were going to drive, reached it just as the foremost horses turned, and flung the gate full against the horses' heads. The men, without looking or caring, went on locking the gate. Ormond jumped out of the carriage--at the sight of him, the padlock fell from the hand of the man who held it.

"Master Harry himself!--and is it you?--We ask your pardon, your honour."

The men were three of Sir Ulick's workmen--Ormond forbad the carriage to follow. "For perhaps you are afraid of the noise disturbing Sir Ulick?"

said be.

"No, plase your honour," said the foremost man, "it will not disturb him--as well let the carriage come on--only," whispered he, "best to send the hack postilions with their horses always to the inn, afore they'd learn any thing."

Ormond walked on quickly, and as soon as he was out of hearing of the postilions again asked the men, "What news?--how is Sir Ulick?"

"Poor gentleman! he has had a deal of trouble--and no help for him,"

said the man.

"Better tell him plain," whispered the next. "Master Harry, Sir Ulick O'Shane's trouble is over in this world, sir."

"Is he--"

"Dead, he is, and cold, and in his coffin--this minute--and thanks be to G.o.d, if he is safe there even from them that are on the watch to seize on his body!--In the dread of them creditors, orders were given to keep the gates locked. He is dead since Tuesday, sir,--but hardly one knows it out of the castle--except us."

Ormond walked on silently, while they followed, talking at intervals.

"There is a very great cry against him, sir, I hear, in Dublin,--and here in the country, too," said one.

"The distress, they say, is very great, he caused; but they might let his body rest any way--what good can that do them?"

"Bad or good, they sha'n't touch it," said the other: "by the blessing, we shall have him buried safe in the morning, afore they are stirring.

We shall carry the coffin through the under ground pa.s.sage, that goes to the stables, and out by the lane to the churchyard asy--and the gentleman, the clergyman, has notice all will be ready, and the housekeeper only attending."

"Oh! the pitiful funeral," said the eldest of the men, "the pitiful funeral for Sir Ulick O'Shane, that was born to better."

"Well, we can only do the best we can," said the other, "let what will happen to ourselves; for Sir Marcus said he wouldn't take one of his father's notes from any of us."

Ormond involuntarily felt for his purse.

"Oh! don't be bothering the gentleman, don't be talking," said the old man.

"This way, Master Harry, if you please, sir, the underground way to the back yard. We keep all close till after the burying, for fear--that was the housekeeper's order. Sent all off to Dublin when Sir Ulick took to his bed, and Lady Norton went off."

Ormond refrained from asking any questions about his illness, fearing to inquire into the manner of his death. He walked on more quickly and silently. When they were going through the dark pa.s.sage, one of the men, in a low voice, observed to Mr. Ormond that the housekeeper would tell him all about it.

When they got to the house, the housekeeper and Sir Ulick's man appeared, seeming much surprised at the sight of Mr. Ormond. They said a great deal about the _unfortunate event_, and their own sorrow and _distress_; but Ormond saw that theirs were only the long faces, dismal tones, and outward show of grief. They were just a common housekeeper and gentleman's gentleman, neither worse nor better than ordinary servants in a great house. Sir Ulick had only treated them as such.

The housekeeper, without Ormond's asking a single question, went on to tell him that "Castle Hermitage was as full of company, even to the last week, as ever it could hold, and all as grand as ever; the first people in Ireland--champagne and burgundy, and ices, and all as usual--and a ball that very week. Sir Ulick was very considerate, and sent Lady Norton off to her other friends; he took ill suddenly that night with a great pain in his head: he had been writing hard, and in great trouble, and he took to his bed, and never rose from it--he was found by Mr.

Dempsey, his own man, dead in his bed in the morning--of a broken heart, to be sure!--Poor gentleman!--Some people in the neighbourhood was mighty busy talking how the coroner ought to be sent for; but that blew over, sir. But then we were in dread of the seizure of the body for debt, so the gates was kept locked; and now you know all we know about it, sir."

Ormond said he would attend the funeral. There was no attempt to seize upon the body; only the three workmen, the servants, a very few of the cottagers, and Harry Ormond, attended to the grave the body of the once popular Sir Ulick O'Shane. This was considered by the country people as the greatest of all the misfortunes that had befallen him; the lowest degradation to which an O'Shane could be reduced. They compared him with King Corny, and "see the difference!" said they; "the one was _the true thing_, and never _changed_--and after all, where is the great friends now?--the quality that used to be entertained at the castle above? Where is all the favour promised him now? What is it come to? See, with all his wit, and the schemes upon schemes, broke and gone, and forsook and forgot, and buried without a funeral, or a tear, but from Master Harry."

Ormond was surprised to hear, in the midst of many of their popular superst.i.tions and prejudices, how justly they estimated Sir Ulick's abilities and character.

As the men filled up his grave, one of them said, "There lies the making of an excellent gentleman--but the cunning of his head spoiled the goodness of his heart."

The day after the funeral an agent came from Dublin to settle Sir Ulick O'Shane's affairs in the country.

On opening his desk, the first thing that appeared was a bundle of accounts, and a letter, directed to H. Ormond, Esq. He took it to his own room and read--

"ORMOND,

"I intended to _employ_ your money to re-establish my falling credit, but I never intended to _defraud_ you.

"ULICK O'SHANE."

CHAPTER x.x.xII.

Both from a sense of justice to the poor people concerned, and from a desire to save Sir Ulick O'Shane's memory as far as it was in his power from reproach, Ormond determined to pay whatever small debts were due to his servants, workmen, and immediate dependents. For this purpose, when the funeral was over, he had them all a.s.sembled at Castle Hermitage.

Every just demand of this sort was paid, all were satisfied; even the bare-footed kitchen-maid, the drudge of this great house, who, in despair, had looked at her poor one guinea note of Sir Ulick's, had that note paid in gold, and went away blessing Master Harry. Happy for all that he is come home to us, was the general feeling. But there was one man, a groom of Sir Ulick's, who did not join in any of these blessings or praises: he stood silent and motionless, with his eyes on the money which Mr. Ormond had put into his hand.

"Is your money right?" said Ormond.

"It is, sir; but I had something to tell you."

When all the other servants had left the room, the man said, "I am the groom, sir, that was sent, just before you went to France, with a letter to Annaly: there was an answer to that letter, sir, though you never got it."

"There was an answer!" cried Ormond, anger flashing, but an instant afterwards joy sparkling in his eyes. "There was a letter!--From whom?--I'll forgive you all, if you will tell me the whole truth."

"I will--and not a word of lie, and I beg your honour's pardon, if--"

"Go on--straight to the fact, this instant, or you shall never have my pardon."

"Why then I stopped to take a gla.s.s coming home; and, not knowing how it was, I had the misfortune to lose the bit of a note, and I thought no more about it till, plase your honour, after you was gone, it was found."