tantly led his
mind to this part of the country, being aware of the strife between
O'Donnell and Nuala O'Malley. It had been a crazed notion enough, and
since then she had kept as near to him as possible in the half-sane idea
that she might help him.

How she had managed to do it ever remained a mystery to Brian, since his
marches had been none of the slowest, but she had done so.

"Where are--your men?" she exclaimed after a little. Brian told her what
had chanced at the castle, and she broke out in a last wild cackling
laugh.

"Tyr-owen's luck!" she cried. "Betrayed and blasted, betrayed and
blasted--but the root of the tree is still strong, Yellow Brian--give me
your blessing, master--give Noreen your blessing before you go to Rome,
Hugh _mo mhuirnin_--"

Brian's face blanched and his hands trembled, for he saw that her
wandering mind took him for his grandsire.

"_Dhia agus mhuire orth_," he murmured, and with a little sob the Black
Woman died.

Silence fell upon the dingle, as Brian gazed down at the woman his
grandfather had loved, and whose love had been no less. Then Turlough
pushed his horse closer, looking down with a shrewd leer.

"Said she not that it would be a black day when you met her again,
master?" he queried with awe in his voice. "I think--"

"Keep silence!" commanded Brian shortly. "Get down from that horse and
dig a grave."

"But the ground is frozen--" began old Turlough in dismay. Brian gave
him one look, and the old man hastily dismounted, crossing himself and
mumbling.

Brian joined him, and they managed to scoop out a shallow grave with
knife and sword, laid the old woman in it, and covered her up again. It
was a sorry burial for the love of the great earl, but it was the best
they could do.

Shaken more than he cared to admit, Brian mounted and rode on in
silence. As he had thought, there was nothing supernatural about this
weird Black Woman, except, perhaps, the manner in which she had
contrived to keep close to him. She had warned him at the Stone
Mountain, and she must have been keeping close to Bertragh ever since,
unseen by any, with her unhinged mind driving her forward relentlessly.

"Poor woman!" he thought darkly, gazing into the hills ahead. "There has
been little luck to any who ever followed an O'Neill or loved an
O'Neill! And now it seems likely that the same ill luck of all my family
is to dog my heels, bringing me up to the heights, only to cast me down
lower t