Not back till moonlight!" replied I; "why did you not say so? and I
would have gone on with the other."

"Is it with the other you mane, your honour? Then if Teddy Driscoll
could make his horses go one step farther than our door, may I never
have a soul to be saved. Will your honour please to sit in the little
room? Kathleen shall light a fire."

Vexed as I was with the idea of passing the night in this horrid 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
overhead. 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
McDermott 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 McDermott
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.

PART TWO, CHAPTER TWENTY.

NO HOPES OF RISING N