and shutting the door behind her, asked, in a low
whisper, "Are ye alone?"--and then, without waiting for a reply, threw
back the tattered bonnet that covered her head, and removing a wig of
long black hair, stared steadfastly at me.

"Do you know me, now?" said the hag, in a voice of almost menacing
eagerness.

"What!" cried I, in amazement; "it surely cannot be--Darby, is this
really you?"

"Ye may well say it," replied he, bitterly.--"Ye had time enough to
forget me since we met last; and 'tis thinking twice your grand friends
the officers would be, before they 'd put their necks where mine is now
to see you. Read that,"--as he spoke, he threw a ragged and torn piece
of printed paper on the table,--"read that, and you 'll see there 's
five hundred pounds of blood money to the man that takes me. Ay, and
here I stand this minit in the King's barrack, and walked fifty-four
miles this blessed day just to see you and speak to you once more. Well,
well!" He turned away his head while he said this, and wiping a starting
tear from his red eyeball, he added, "Master Tom, 'tis myself would
never b'lieve ye done it."

"Did what?" said I, eagerly. "What have I ever done that you should
charge me thus?"

But Darby heard me not; his eyes were fixed on vacancy, and his lips
moved rapidly as though he were speaking to himself.

"Ay," said he, half aloud, "true enough; 'tis the gentlemen that
betrayed us always,--never came good of the cause where they took a
part. But you,"--here he turned full round, and grasping my arm, spoke
directly to me, "you that I loved better than my own kith and kin,
that I thought would one day be a pride and glory to us all; you that I
brought over myself to the cause--"

"And when have I deserted,--when have I betrayed it?"

"When did you desert it?" repeated he, in a tone of mocking irony.
"Tell me the day and hour ye came here, tell me the first time ye sat
down among the red butchers of King George, and I 'll answer ye that. Is
it here you ought to be? Is this the home for him that has a heart for
Ireland? I never said you betrayed us. Others said it; but I stood to
it, ye never did that. But what does it signify? 'Tis no wonder ye left
us; we were poor and humble people; we had nothing at heart but the good
cause--"

"Stop!" cried I, maddened by this taunt. "What could I have done? where
was my place?"

"Don't ask me; if your own heart doesn't teach thee, how can I? But it's
over now;