o such as her? Would she, I
wondered, ever care to take a flower from me as she had taken one from
Captain Lestrange that morning?

I was half minded to beg Captain Swift for leave to remain behind in
Dublin. But then the thought of the peril that threatened her urged me
to go forward. At least I could die for her.

At the door of the hotel a person in plain clothes, but evidently a
soldier, touched me on the shoulder.

"I see you are a friend of Lord Edward Fitzgerald," said he with a
smirk.

I did not like the looks of the fellow, and replied shortly,--

"What if I am?"

"Only that you can earn five hundred pounds as easily as you ever earned
a shilling," said he.

"Indeed! how?"

"By giving the government some information."

"As to what?"

"The plans of the United Irishmen."

"Who are they?" said I.

"Come, don't pretend to be innocent. The money's safe, I tell you."

"And I tell you," said I, bridling up, "that I know no more of the
United Irishmen or their plans than you do. I saw Lord Edward for the
first time in my life to-day. Our business had nothing to do with
politics; and if it had, I would not sell it to you or your masters for
ten thousand pounds. If you want news, go to Lord Edward himself; and
wear a thick coat, for he carries a cane."

The man growled out some sort of threat or defiance and disappeared.
But it showed me that, as matters then were, there was no doing anything
in a corner, and the sooner I was north the better for every one.

So when next morning my captain and I, on the top of the coach, rumbled
out of the gate at which only yesterday my little mistress had waved her
hand, I was glad, despite many forebodings, to find myself once more on
the wing.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

WHAT I FOUND UNDER THE HEARTHSTONE AT KILGORMAN.

Our journey northward was uneventful. Captain Swift and I parted
company at Derry. My orders were to join the _Diana_ at Dublin at the
end of the month, which allowed me only a little over a fortnight for my
business in Donegal.

You may fancy with what mingled feelings I found myself one evening
standing once more on the quay at Rathmullan, looking down the lough as
it lay bathed in the shifting colours of the spring sunset, trying to
detect in the distance the familiar little clump of trees behind which
nestled Knockowen House. Was this journey one of peace or of war? Did
hope lurk for me behind yonder trees; or had I come all thi