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"Brother," faltered the rnh: l,
not iliat you we It wast I' only
perished li
.7>Y,/A7; AQXESE.
" us Clod sees ni", T
i.l iliis inoniiiiu in i'ii cave, tliut, I learned I
ad ;i i.roth. :
ng.
I thought you luul
'
My son, my brother, I do believe you," said Father Xctterville
mildly.
But May looked fiercely incredulous.
"
"Save him, then," she if
said, you would have us b
you i"i'ocent of his. blood. You have brought these men
hither you can send them away again, I suppose, if you
will."
' Your pardon, madam," said the officer coldly. Mr. Xc.t-
tirville certainly pave information of a croppy priest lurking
in these caves, who, some monthi ago, had be, n openly seen
with a party of armed rebels, but there his alone am i i authority here."
duty ceased. I
Father Xetterviile might easily have brought witnesses to
prov.i that he had been among tin- rebels only to induce them
to disperse quietly to their homes; but he was silent, for he
knew the mau he had to deal with, lid felt that any one speaking
in his favor was more likely to be hanged ns a rebel than
as a witness. In his fear of compromising others, he
ongratulatcd hi-: self upon having, previously to hisvisit
to the Dea 1 Man's Cave, sent his faithful Daniel ou a message
to the dying Xorrisheen, which would insure his absence for
at least an hour longer, BO fearfully uncertain was life and
liberty in the days when martini law held sway over the land.
"My uncle is neither a rebel nor a croppy," said May,
proudly, in answer to the officer's last insinuation.
"We shall that, presently, madam," said the officer ;
" martial
law is a great eulightener in these intricate eases. Mr.
Xe! terville, will you kindly lead the joung lady hence ? Justice
is a hard-hearted dame, and loves not the presence of the
young and lovely at her counsels; and besi Ic ," he added,
with a bitter sneer, "I would spr.ro your feelin.qs also the
hard task of bearing witness against a brother."
May cast a troubled look upon the : speaker there was something
in his face which made lur tremble, and, weeping bitterly,
she threw herself at the feet of Father Xetterviile. He al-
.id his doom upon that darkling brow, but, faithful to
the principle which had guided him through life, he prepared
to meet his impending fate in the same spirit of simple
SB with which he woilld have accomplished any other
dii'y arising from his mission among a suspected and mi, ch
his voice was
persecuted people ; and when he spoke again,
s;s calm and soothing as though he did not know that the
hand of violence w;;s about to hush its accents forever.
" Grieve not, my child, for I am innocent of all rebellion;
busy at his he.ii", so choking him and paralyzing all his powers
1
: that he could neither ask I
is of his victim, nor yet return
the embrace in which it was imparted; cold, silent, and
''ing, he turned from the bro! B, unconsciously,
but BTU
."! purs-led to the death, and followed the foot-
ii his niee , looking, feeling aud moving
all the while
like oil" iKtd'-r the '-
but it wan with eves; vjiieh ',
if a horril
rtain wlii.
ice.
"John N id May, with ;
heighten", 1 ;
color, you have O
the life and liberty of th"
;vest and d; :n-"st you left for me to !ov".
drove my father and my mother iV
own country one to perish on a field of !>!ooo
in sorrow and in want; me you l<
ad
'
May
lost all .if her
b aten the very hound at your feet; and i
have twice this day giv. n you Lack your life. All I ask ,
in return," she added, iu softer, milder accents tha
used in the
"
beginning, is, tliut 'he last half of your lube
spent in weeping for the first."
John Xetterviile listened to her at first with : the
histre eyes nnd vacant stare, but, as sin 1
proceed)
Kcionsness gradually returned; convulsion after com
shook his frame; he tried to speak, but could not; u
ing girl was about to go and fetch hi>
caught her by the arm, staggering, as lie did so, like u \\
ed man. Just then n hand from w.thiri drew aside the e;:
and the tall, wasted form of a woman appeared at th
gazing silently upon him.
" Mother, forgive me," burst from his lips, and he f,
his knees.
The dying woraan moved her bloodless lips; she was about
k, when a confused sound of voices and toheard
from without then there was au ominous pause t
frightfully prolonged scream, and then old Moya rushed into
the cavern, exc aiming:
"Gracious God! they have murthered his riverence."
" Oh, curse him not curse him not," cried May, terrii;
the expression of the mother's face; " bless him, rnoth( t
fore you go."
The dying woman opened wide her arms: "May God for-
give as I do my son, God bless thee."
John Netterville caught her to his bosom; but the mo
heart was broken she was dead before she hud touched his
shoulder.
The prayer of Agnese had been heard iu heaven the sacri-
fice accepted in its utmost rigor.
Father Netterville, the good and kind, was dead. The
shepherd had laid dov.n his life for his flock, and the mother
Lad departed in sorrow to her tomb ; the price was paid the
take your uncle to my mother, but t-ay nothing to her of all
this it would ;
only give her causeless sorrow."
May caught hold of his hands, and deluged them with her
tears.
"My uncle, my father," she whispered, "give me your
blessing."
"May heaven bless "
you, my own -my only one ! he answered,
laying his hands in sole ictiou on her
and then stooping down, he gently ki-sed her brow. A\
knew it was his final blessing his last farewell to the child of
his life-long love and care. "And now," he added, placing
ilnotant hand in that of her less worthy relative, "lead
him to my mother. Brother, farewell ! jou are forgiven."
May rose from her knees she dreamed not of th instant
;
death awaiting the priest, but the squire knew it well ! ami he
saw, by the emphasis laid upon the word prodigal
"forgiven," that his
brother knew it also.
In that terrible moment, shame, remorse and horror were all
was won and John Netterville wept over her c
a penitent indeed !
CHAPTER VI.
"THEEE it is again," said Agnese, as out of the confusion of
sounds iu the street below, the H) inn of the ]'h-;ment
came faintly to her ear. "Look out from the b.i
dearest Grace, and tell me if He is coming this way."
The Little Spouse of the Blessed Hacrameut was laid upon
a light couch, placed sufficiently near the open window
init the visit of the soft summer breeze on her fevered brow
A loose white dressing-gown was wrapt around h.
had be. u very ill, and even now the color ou her cheek v
too bright for health, end the lustre of her eyes, too da,
May Xetterviile, who never left her night or da -,
at her side, and Lady Oranmore sorrow in her heart,
tears, which she vainly struggled to rep r
her eyes was standing in the very same balcony, from
whence, just one year before, she had looked down ,
nd th', holy procession, and the fair
'"ith her e K he could not
but i'-r/l, from earth, to iieuveu, and going gently, sweetly, al-