remained but to revenge themselves on the unconscious author of their
self-deception for the disappointment he gave them. This, it is true,
required some ingenuity, for they scarcely ever saw him, nor could they
ascertain a single fact of his habits or mode of life.

He never crossed the "Lough," as the inlet of the sea, about three miles
in width, was called. He as rigidly excluded the peasantry from the
grounds of the Castle; and, save an old fisherman, who carried his
letter-bag to and fro, and a few laborers in the spring and autumn, none
ever invaded the forbidden precincts.

Of course, such privacy paid its accustomed penalty; and many an
explanation, of a kind little flattering, was circulated to account for
so ungenial an existence. Some alleged that he had committed some heavy
crime against the State, and was permitted to pass his life there,
on the condition of perpetual imprisonment; others, that his wife had
deserted him, and that in his forlorn condition he had sought out a spot
to live and die in, unnoticed and unknown; a few ascribed his solitude
to debt; while others were divided in opinion between charges of
misanthropy and avarice,--to either of which accusations his lonely and
simple life fully exposed him.

In time, however, people grew tired of repeating stories to which no
new evidence added any features of interest. They lost the zest for a
scandal which ceased to astonish, and "my lord" was as much forgotten,
and his existence as unspoken of, as though the old towers had once
again become the home of the owl and the jackdaw.

It was now about eight years since "the lord" had taken up his abode
at the Castle, when one evening, a raw and gusty night of December, the
little skiff of the fisherman was seen standing in for shore,--a sight
somewhat uncommon, since she always crossed the "Lough" in time for the
morning's mail.

"There's another man aboard, too," said a bystander from the little
group that watched the boat, as she neared the harbor; "I think it's Mr.
Craggs."

"You 're right enough, Sam,--it's the Corporal; I know his cap, and the
short tail of hair he wears under it. What can bring him at this time of
night?"

"He's going to bespeak a quarter of Tim Healey's beef, maybe," said one,
with a grin of malicious drollery.

"Mayhap it's askin' us all to spend the Christmas he'd be," said
another.

"Whisht! or he 'll hear you," muttered a third; and at the same instant
the sail cam