r?" she whispered.

"He'll be content with no less," Morty answered, with a groan. "Bad
cess to him! And The McMurrough--sure it's certain death, and who's
blaming him, but he's no stomach for it. And whirra, whirra, on that
the man says he'll be telling it in Tralee that he'd not meet him, and
as far as Galway City he'll cut his comb for him! Ay, bedad, he says
that, and that none of his name shall show their face there, night or
day, fair or foul, race or cockfight--the bloody-minded villain!"

She listened, despairing. The house was quiet, as houses in the country
are of an afternoon, and the quieter for the battle with death which
was joined in the darkened room upstairs. Her thoughts were no longer
with the injured man, however, but in that other room, where her
brother lurked in squalid fear--fear that in a nameless man might have
been pardoned, but in him, in a McMurrough, head of his race, last of
his race, never! She came of heroes, to her the strain had descended
pure and untainted, and she would rather have seen him dead. The two
men before her--who knew, alas! who knew!--she was sure that they would
have taken up the glove, unwillingly and perforce, perhaps, but they
would have fought! While her brother, The McMurrough---- But even while
she thought of it, she saw through the open door the figure of a man
saunter slowly past the courtyard gates, his sword under his arm. It
was the Englishman. She felt the added sting. Her cheek, that had been
pale, burned darkly, her eyes shone.

"St. Patrick fly away with the toad and the ugly smile of him!" Morty
said. "I'm thinking it's between the two of us, Phelim, my jewel! And
he that's killed will help the other."

"God forbid!" Flavia cried, pale with horror at the thought. "Not
another!"

"But sure, and I'm not seeing how else we'll be rid of him handsomely,"
Phelim replied.

"No!" she repeated firmly. "No! I forbid it!"

Again the man sauntered by the entrance, and again he cast the same
insolent, smiling look at the house. They watched him pass, an ominous
shadow in the sunshine, and Flavia shuddered.

"But what will you be doing, then?" Morty asked, rubbing, his chin in
perplexity. "He's saying that if The McMurrough'll not meet him by four
o'clock, and it isn't much short of it, he'll be riding this day! And
him once gone he's a bitter tongue, and 'twill be foul shame on the
house!"

Flavia stood silent in thought, but at length she drew in her breat