rushing at her, raised his open hand and struck
her rather severely on the side of the head. She felt, as it were,
stunned for a little, but at length she rose up, and said: "Father, this
is the insanity of a bad ambition, or perhaps of affection, and you know
not what you have done." She then approached him, and throwing her arms
about his neck, exclaimed: "Papa, kiss me; and I shall never think of
it, nor allude to it;" as she spoke the tears fell in showers from her
eyes.

"No, madam," he replied, "I repulse you; I throw you off from me now and
forever."

"Be calm, papa; compose yourself, my dear papa. I shall not see Lord
Cullamore; it would be now impossible; I could not sustain an interview
with him. You, consequently, can have nothing to fear; you can say I am
ill, and that will be truth indeed."

"I shall never relax one moment," he replied, "until I either subdue
you, or break your obstinate heart. Come, madam," said he, "I will
conduct you to your apartment."

She submissively preceded him, until he committed her once more to
the surveillance of the maid whom he had engaged and bribed to be her
sentinel.

It is unnecessary to say that the visit of the honorable old nobleman
ended in nothing. Lucy was not in a condition to see him; and as her
father at all risks reiterated his assertions as to her free and hearty
consent to the match, Lord Cullamore went away, now perfectly satisfied
that if his son had any chance of being reclaimed by the influence of
a virtuous wife, it must be by his union with Lucy. The noble qualities
and amiable disposition of this excellent young lady were so well known
that only one opinion prevailed with respect to her.

Some wondered, indeed, how such a man could be father to such a
daughter; but, on the other hand, the virtues of the mother were
remembered, and the wonder was one no longer.

CHAPTER XIII. The Stranger's Second Visit to Father M'Mahon

--Something like an Elopement.

On the evening of the same day the stranger desired Paudeen Gair to
take a place for him in the "Fly," which was to return to Dublin on that
night. He had been furnished with a letter from Father M'Mahon, to whom
he had, in Mr. Birney's, fully disclosed his name and objects. He felt
anxious, however, to engage some trustworthy servant or attendant, on
whose integrity he could fully rely, knowing, or at least apprehending,
that he might be placed in circumstances where he could not himse