nt
family who escaped, a maimed and famished spectre, out of Derry, after
the same party had driven him to eat his sword-belt for hunger. Look
once again at this more antique locket; it contains the hair of a
maternal ancestor, who perished for the faith among the fagots of
Smithfield; and look, here, at my own arm--that wound I received when
a child, from the chief of a 'Heart of Steel' banditti, who, under the
same banner, lighted our family's escape from rape and massacre, by
the flames of their own burning roof-tree; and yet I--I, every drop of
whose blood might well cry out for vengeance, when I see these
remembrancers of my wrongs in the hands of my wrongs' defender, do yet
take that hand, and long to call him father."

I was here interrupted by the sudden entrance of a splashed and
wearied messenger: advancing with a military salute, he presented a
letter to Mr O'More. "Pardon me," he said, hastily tearing it open,
"this is on a matter of life and death." He read it in great
agitation; led the messenger aside; gave some hurried orders; took
down his arms from the mantelpiece; and drawing his belt, and fixing
in his pistols while he spoke, addressed me:--"Notwithstanding what
you have urged, my determination remains unaltered. I must leave
Moyabel, for I cannot now say how long: you shall be taken care of in
my absence: farewell, sir, farewell." He shook me by the hand, and
hurried away. I heard confusion in the house, and thought I could
distinguish the sweet voice of Madeline, broken by sobs at his
departure. A considerable party seemed to leave the house; for there
was a great trampling of horses in the courtyard, and two or three
mounted men passed by the windows. At length they were out of hearing,
and I determined not to lose another minute of the precious
opportunity. My clothes had been brought from Knowehead, and I was so
much recovered that I found myself able to rise, and set about
dressing immediately. My continental visions of beard were more than
realised; and if I failed to produce a shapely moustache, 'twas not
for lack of material. With fluttering expectation, I selected the most
graceful of the pantaloons; drew on my rings; arrayed myself in the
purple velvet slippers, cap, and brocade dressing-gown; took one
lingering last look at the little mirror, and descended into the
parlour. I drew a writing-table to me, and penned a long letter to
Knowehead, another to Redrigs, and had half-finished a so