orrid place,
there was no help for it: so I took up my portmanteau and followed the
landlady to a small room, if it deserved the appellation, which had been
built after the cottage, and a door broken through the wall into it.
Ceiling there was none, it had only lean-to rafters, with tiles over
head. I took a seat on the only stool that was in the room, and leant
my elbow on the table in no very pleasant humour, when I heard the girl
say, "And why don't you let him go on to the castle? Sure the chaise is
in the yard, and the horses are in the stable."

"There's orders 'gainst it, Kathleen," replied the landlady. "Mr
M'Dermott was here this blessed day, and who can deny him?"

"Who is he then?" replied the girl.

"An attorney with a warrant against Sir Henry; and, moreover, they say
that he's coming to'strain upon the cattle of Jerry O'Toole for the
tithes."

"He's a bould young chap, at all events," replied the girl, "to come
here all by himself."

"Oh! but it's not till to-morrow morning, and then we'll have the
troops here to assist him."

"And does Jerry O'Toole know of this?"

"Sure enough he does; and I hope there'll be no murder committed in my
house this blessed night. But what can a poor widow do when M'Dermott
holds up his finger? Now, go light the fire, Kathleen, and see if the
poor young man wants anything; it's a burning pity that he shouldn't
have something to comfort him before his misfortunes fall upon him."

Kathleen made no reply. The horror that I felt at this discourse may
easily be imagined. That it was intended that I should meet with foul
play was certain, and I knew very well that, in such a desolate part
of the country, the murder of an individual, totally unknown, would
hardly be noticed. That I had been held up to the resentment of the
inhabitants as a tithe collector and an attorney with a warrant, was
quite sufficient, I felt conscious, to induce them to make away with me.
How to undeceive them was the difficulty.

Chapter XLIV

No hopes of rising next morning alive, as a last chance--I get
into bed.

Kathleen came in with fuel to light the fire, and looking rather hard at
me, passed by, and was soon, busy blowing up the turf. She was a very
handsome dark-eyed girl, about nineteen years of age, stout and well
made. "What is your name?" said I.

"Kathleen, at your service, sir."

"Listen to me, Kathleen," said I, in a low voice. "You are a woman,
and all wome