* *

The country was in a very disturbed state, and it was impossible to
keep all hints of danger from the children's sharp ears. Beth knew a
great deal of what was going on and what might be expected, but then a
few chance phrases were already enough for her to construct a whole
story upon, and with wonderful accuracy generally. Her fine faculty of
observation developed apace at this time, and nothing she noticed now
was ever forgotten. She would curl up in the window-seat among the
fuchsias, and watch the people in the street by the hour together,
especially on Sundays and market-days, when a great many came in from
the mountains, women in close white caps with goffered frills, short
petticoats, and long blue cloaks; and men in tail-coats and
knee-breeches, with shillalahs under their arms, which they used very
dexterously. They talked Irish at the top of their voices, and
gesticulated a great deal, and were childishly quarrelsome. One
market-day, when Beth was looking out of the sitting-room window, her
mother came and looked out too, and they saw half-a-dozen countrymen
set upon a young Castletownrock man. In a moment their shillalahs were
whirling about his head, and he was driven round the corner of the
house. Presently he came staggering back across the road, blubbering
like a child, with his head broken, and the blood streaming down over
his face, which was white and distorted with pain. They had knocked
him down, and kicked him when he was on the ground.

"Oh! the cowards! the cowards!" Mrs. Caldwell exclaimed. Beth felt
sick, but it was not so much what she saw as what she heard that
affected her--the man's crying, and the graphic description of the
nature and depth of the wound which another man, who had been present
while the doctor dressed it, stopping at the window, kindly insisted
on giving them, Mrs. Caldwell being obliged to listen courteously for
fear of making herself unpopular. The man's manner impressed
Beth--there was such a solemn joy in it, as of one who had just
witnessed something refreshing.

There were two priests in the place, Father Madden and Father John.
Captain Caldwell said Father Madden was a gentleman. He shook hands
with everybody, even with the curate and Mr. Macbean; but Father John
would not speak to a protestant, and used to scowl at the children
when he met them, and then Mildred would seize Bernadine's hand and
drag her past him quickly, because she hated to be scowle