sacred symbol of our common faith," and she took in her hand a golden cross depending from a chain round her neck—"I swear never to reveal the names of those men I saw here to-night. Will that satisfy you?" "Yes," Dermot answered moodily, "and now Rose, you swear the same. It's well Captain Rock isn't here, or you wouldn't get off so easy," he muttered. I swear," said Rose, kissing the Cross reverently, “and now, Dermot, your mind will be at rest. How lucky it was you came back, for now you can show us the way out of this cave. We don't want to stay here all night. But what brought you back?" she asked with eager curiosity. "I forgot my mask," said Dermot, with a gloomy smile, taking up a piece of black crape from under the council table, where it had fallen. You will have to wait a while afore you can lave the cave," he added, as he turned to go away. "What for?" asked his sister impatiently. "Bekase some of 'the boys' outside, and might find out ye were here. Follow me to the foot of the stairs, anyhow, and I'll lave the big stone that covers the enthrance partly aside so that ye can move it asy yer Silently Isabel and Rose followed Dermot Kavanagh along the subterranean passage, both rejoicing in the prospect of leaving the cave so soon, Isabel still hoping to be able to save Elm Lodge from the torch of Captain Rock and his lawless men. At length they reached a stone stairs terminating the narrow passage. "Stop here a quarther of an hour afore ye attempt to lave," whispered Dermot. "If it was known ye were in the cave to-night and that I let you off me own life wouldn't be safe." "Didn't we swear upon the Holy Cross to keep the saycret, and never tell upon one of ye?" asked Rose impatiently. 'Sure Captain Rock himself couldn't ask more." "Faix then, I am mortally afeard of them," replied the girl, shivering with the powerful dread of the supernatural, so com. mon to the Irish peasantry, "You have more reason to dread the lawless men who are abroad to-night." "Och, no! Miss Isabel," interrupted Rose; "shure they are flesh and blood, like ourselves. I'd rather meet Captain Rock and all his men, any night, than one of them wandhering sperits from another world," and the girl's teeth chattered with superstitious terror. "We won't meet any of them, don't alarm yourself," said Isabel encouragingly. "I think we may now venture to the top of these stairs," she continued, after an interval of some minutes. Everything seems quiet outside." They then ascended the stone steps, and listened, but no sound was to be heard. Cautiously putting her head through the aperture, which a large stone partially covered, Isabel peered into the darkness without. The outlet from the cavern opened into the cemetery of St. Bride, the stone concealing it was made to look like a tombstone, and could not be distinguished from the other gravestones around. No one was to be seen, and the two girls ventured to leave the subterranean passage. The night was starless, and stumbling in the darkness over the humble graves of the poor, Isabel Crofton and her trembling companion tried to make their way out of the cemetery. As they reached the roofless cloister, a deep sigh was heard from a distant recess. Rose uttered a cry of terror and clung to Miss Crofton. this very night. I had the information from one of the boys'-as the lawless villains call themselves—whose death-bed I attended two hours ago. Unfortunately, I was riding by the Friary as some of the gang set apart for this work were issuing from their place of meeting,hidden somewhere in these ruins. But how is it you are here, Isabel ? have you fled from your home to escape the midnight incendiary ?" In a few words Miss Crofton explained how she had been overtaken by the tide and saved from a watery grave, by taking refuge in the cavern, but she said nothing of the "It's a ghost! the saints be good to us," scene he had witnessed there. she exclaimed. Again the sigh, or rather groan was heard, sending a thrill of horror to the heart of Rose Kavanagh. Isabel was no believer in the supernatural, and in a voice a little tremulous, however, she asked: "Who is there?" "Good heavens ! what an escape, and I knew nothing of your danger! If I had gone to the Lodge and there heard you were missing, what an agony of suspense I should have endured !" "If I only had the luck to have a knife about me I could set your riverence "Miss Crofton ! can it be possible !"-free," was Rose Kavanagh's abrupt observa came from the recess, in accents of astonishment. "It's Parson Butler himself that's in it!" exclaimed Rose, joyfully, the dread of a ghost suddenly vanishing. "What's the matter? are you ill?" asked Isabel, anxiously, approaching the place whence the voice of Maxwell Butler pro ceeded. tion. "So you could, my good girl !" answered Max, joyfully, "and in my vest pocket you will find one with a strong blade." Rose soon possessed herself of the parson's pen-knife, and in a few minutes the cords that bound him were cut, and he sprang lightly to his feet, with the exclama tion : "Now if I can find my horse, I shall baffle the villains yet, and inform the police at Carraghmore of their intended outrage!" "I am afeard they took the horse with them," remarked Rose. "I think not, for I heard the animal neigh not long since, he is grazing some where near us, I hope," and Max peered eagerly through the gloom. "There is something white yondher," said Rose. "It is aither a ghost or the parson's horse." "It's my horse!" said Max joyfully, and advancing towards the white object Rose pointed out he soon returned, mounted on the animal "The attack on the Lodge will begin before one o'clock. It is now past midnight, but I hope to reach Carraghmore in time to bring a constabulary force to prevent the outrage. But where are you to take refuge Isabel," Max added anxiously. If I only had time to conduct you to the parsonage. Where shall you spend the night ?" "With Rose Kavanagh, her cottage is close by. I shall be quite safe there till morning. Do not waste any more time, I beg of you," Isabel continued, eagerly. "Ride in all haste to Carraghmore, and leave me to the care of my kind friend, Rose. She has been my good angel this eventful night." "And shure it's proud I am to be of sarvice to ye, Miss Isabel, and proud we'll be -ould granny and myself to have you spend the night undher our humble roof. Don't be afeard, I'll take the best of care of her, your riverence, and be off wid ye in hot haste, and ride for the bare life if ye want to save the Lodge from them ruffians. But sure that's a hard word for me to say, and me own brother one of them," Rose added under her breath, and a keen feeling of regret thrilled her heart as she thought of Dermot connected with such lawless men. They are the curse of Ireland, them White boys or Ribbonmen!" she resumed indig The appearance of Rose at the cottage relieved her grandmother's mind from the deepest anxiety on her account, and she listened eagerly to the account of how she and Miss Crofton had escaped being drowned. Their adventure in the cavern was, however, concealed from the old woman, although she was informed of the intended burning of Elm Lodge. Eagerly did Isabel Crofton watch for the crimson light in the sky, which was to announce the work of destruction begun. At length it came, that bright glow in the grey heavens, and Isabel knew that Max. Butler had been too late to save her beautiful home. That crimson light gleaming on the beetling crags, impending over the narrow defile leading into the glen, was seen by Mr. Crofton, as he rode hastily homeward from Carraghmore. "Whence came it," he asked himself, in sudden alarm, and a startling suspicion of what had occurred made him gallop madly forward. Soon emerging from the narrow defile he came in full view of the Lodge, wrapped in a vivid sheet of flame, the red light streaming on the lake and steeping the lawn and trees in brightness. CHAPTER XIX. A STRANGE DISCLOSURE. HE stillness of death reigned in that antly, as she and Miss Crofton walked secluded glen, where the work of de quickly to her humble dwelling, after parting from Max. "Shure no one's life or property is safe from them burning and murdhering in their revinge, and the worst of it is the people is afeard to inform agin them. Could not Miss Isabel or myself hang a dozen of them now, if we dare to spake out. But there's that solemn oath upon us both, binding us to saycrecy the rest of our life. Och, my grief! and to think our Dermot is one of them! It would kill ould granny if she only knew!" struction was quickly progressing. Not a "They shall hang for this!" he fiercely exclaimed, almost choked with the rage that distorted his stern features. Elm Lodge was his pride, he had spared no expense to render it a pleasant residence for his old age. He had hoped to spend the evening of his days there in quiet happiness, and now it maddened him to see it destroyed by the torch of the incendiary. He thought no eye but his witnessed his emotion, as he stood there leaning for support against a tree, his strong frame quivering with rage and grief, but other eyes looked with very different feelings upon that burning mass, while they glared from time to time upon the hated agent. After setting fire to the Lodge, the incendiaries had fled from the glen, but one of them returned to see the end of his revenge, unmindful of the danger he incurred, and now lying on the grass beneath the shade of some trees, concealed by their hanging branches, Larry Flannagan watched with fiendish joy Mr. Crofton's agony of rage, and gloated over his misery at the wreck of his property. "They shall hang for this night's work! I shall hunt them to the death!" again burst, in a perfect howl of rage, from the frantic agent. The words were borne on the calm night air to the reclining figure beneath the trees. He sprang to his feet in a paroxysm of fury, and seized a musket lying on the grass beside him. "That threat fixes your doom. It'll be the last ye'll ever spake with yere cruel tongue," he hissed forth, his eyes blazing with hate and fury. "To let the likes of ye live is a sin agin mankind. Betther to put an end to such a tyrant at onct! And here goes!" he added, with a demoniac laugh, pointing the murderous weapon at his unconscious victim. The bullet whizzed through the air, and the next moment Mr. Crofton fell upon the grass weltering in his blood. "That shot done for him!" and with fiendish satisfaction Flannagan drew near to look upon the dying agony. The eyes of the agent glared on the well-known face, as he stooped over him, and his hand feebly grasped a revolver, but strength to use it was denied, the bullet had done the work of death, and the spirit of the murdered man passed to its account. "He has money about him-the rint he was collecting!" was the thought that next flashed through the mind of Flannagan, and he stooped with joyful haste to rifle the agent's pocket, but soon a startling sound interrupted his lawless work. The galloping of horses was heard in the glen, and the mounted constabulary force from Carraghmore appeared upon the scene. With a cry of terror the murderer fled at their approach, but the hand of retributive justice had him in its grasp, and escape was impossible. The glare of the fire attracted many per sons to the scene of the outrage. Among others Sir Gerard Trevor, who joined the Rev. Max Butler, as he was returning with the police from Carraghmore. The sight of the murdered man lying on the lawn before his burning house excited general indignation against the perpetrators of the outrage, and the police were scouring the country in pursuit of them. "Is he really dead? Can you do nothing for him, Doctor?" asked Sir Gerard, addressing an old physician, who had just arrived upon the spot, and was anxiously examining the wound of Mr. Crofton. "Nothing, Sir Gerard, I see he has been dead some minutes. No medical skill could bring him back to life. That bullet was well aimed, and caused immediate death. Thank Heaven, we have got the murderer! I hope the other wretches will also be brought to justice. This kind of work is too common in our unhappy country." At this moment a tall woman, wrapt in a blue cloak, approached the spot where Mr. Crofton's body lay weltering in his blood, and silently regarded it for some moments. She then exclaimed very bitterly: "It is dead ye are, sure enough! and, bedad, it is few will break their hearts afther ye!" "Why, Dinah Blake! have you turned up again. Where have you been hiding yourself? I haven't seen you for an age.” These words were addressed by the old physician to the new comer. "Faith then it would be hard for you to see me, Docther, dear, and I kep a prisoner all this time." "Can this woman's assertion be true?” asked the baronet, turning with a bewildered look to Dr. Holmes. "I am afraid it is, I do not think Dinah would assert a falsehood. But where is the missing heiress?" the doctor asked, suddenly turning to her, with eager curiosity. "Och, she is not far off! She is up at the Parsonage, living with Parson Butler's aunt all these years. That's good news for you, Sir Gerard, for now your lady mother wont Kept a prisoner, Dinah! Where and by object to the girl you have set your heart whom?" on. She'll be a rich wife for you." By that same villain lying there dead afore ye. He kept me under lock and kay up in the garret of his house, sure. It's well for me it was burned down anyhow!" "Dinah, this story is incredible! What motive could Crofton have in keeping you a prisoner?" "Just to prevent me telling the thruth, as how the girl who calls herself Miss Barrington has no right or title to the estate." "Bless my soul! have you taken leave of your senses, Dinah Blake? You must be crazed to assert this. I don't wonder at | Crofton shutting you up. He thought you mad, no doubt." "He thought nothing of the kind, Docther Holmes, but he done it to plaze Miss Barrington, as she is called. But she is not the rale heiress at all, she is Norah's child, and Major Barrington was her father." "Norah Blake's child!" exclaimed the physician, in astonishment. "The same and no other! You remember Norah, Docther dear, and how her child was born a few hours afore the young heiress of Barrington Height." "I remember the birth of both children well," observed the astonished physician, "but until now I did not know that Major Barrington was the father of Norah's child." "He was, then! I tell it now, for the thruth must all come out. Sir Gerard Trevor, you're a magisthrate, and you hear my confession." "She means Josephine!" exclaimed Max., who heard this explanation with less surprise than the others did. It was what he had already suspected. "How did you effect the change of children?" asked Dr. Holmes, "Asy enough. I stole into Barrington House when the misthress was dying and everything in confusion. You were there at the time yourself, Docther. I saw you, and the rest of them, standing beside the poor lady's bed. She asked to see the infant afore she went, and sure it was Norah's child they brought her instead of her own, for I had changed the children then." "Was there no one in the nursery? Had the servants left the infant alone ?" asked Dr. Holmes. "They had then. Nurse Lynch was with her misthress, and Letty the nurse-girl had gone to get her tay, letting me have a good chance to do all I wanted, and to escape without being seen." "There is no proof of what this woman asserts," observed Sir Gerard, "her evidence" "There is evidence enough," interrupted Dinah, hastily, "the mark that is on the real heiress, behind her ear, will prove her rights anywhere." "By George, there was such a mark!" exclaimed Dr. Holmes, eagerly. "Nurse Lynch and I noticed when the little heiress was born." |