EXT MORNING ALIVE--AT A LAST CHANCE I GET INTO BED.

Kathleen came in with fuel to light the fire, and looking rather hard at
me, passed by, and was soon busy blowing up the turf. She was a very
handsome dark-eyed girl, about nineteen years of age, stout, and well
made. "What is your name?" said I.

"Kathleen, at your service, sir."

"Listen to me, Kathleen," said I, in a low voice. "You are a woman, and
all women are kind-hearted. I have overheard all that passed between
your mistress and you, and that McDermott has stated that I am a tithe
collector and an attorney, with a warrant. I am no such thing. I am a
gentleman who wish to speak to Sir Henry de Clare on a business which he
does not like to be spoken to about; and to shew you what I say is the
truth, it is about the daughter of his elder brother, who was killed
when hunting, and who is supposed to be dead. I am the only evidence to
the contrary; and, therefore, he and McDermott have spread this report
that I may come to harm."

"Is she alive, then?" replied Kathleen, looking up to me with wonder.

"Yes; and I will not tell Sir Henry where she is, and that is the reason
of their enmity."

"But I saw her body," replied the girl in a low voice, standing up, and
coming close to me.

"It was not hers, depend upon it," replied I, hardly knowing what to
answer to this assertion.

"At all events, it was dressed in her clothes; but it was so long before
it was discovered, that we could make nothing of the features. Well, I
knew the poor little thing, for my mother nursed her. I was myself
brought up at the castle, and lived there till after Sir William was
killed; then we were all sent away."

"Kathleen! Kathleen!" cried the landlady.

"Call for everything you can think of one after another," whispered
Kathleen, leaving the room.

"I cannot make the peat burn," said she to the landlady, after she had
quitted the little room; "and the gentleman wants some whisky."

"Go out then, and get some from the middle of the stack, Kathleen, and
be quick; we have others to attend besides the tithe proctor. There's
the O'Tooles all come in, and your own Corny is with them."

"My Corny, indeed!" replied Kathleen; "he's not quite so sure of that."

In a short time Kathleen returned, and brought some dry peat and a
measure of whisky. "If what you say is true," said Kathleen, "and sure
enough you're no Irish, and very young for a tithe proctor, who must
grow