as the heiress and Sir Gerard passed out of sight. "Does she always reside with her ?" "Yes, she has lived at Barrington House for several years. Her brother, Major Barrington, left his daughter to her care at his death, which occurred when she was a child. Lady Trevor's jointure is small. In deed the Trevor rent-roll is not large, owing to the extravagance of the late Baronet, and it is thought Sir Gerard will marry his cousin, whose fortune will enable him to pay off the mortgages on his estate." "Is it not near tea time ?" Max continued, abruptly changing the conversation. "My long walk has given me an appetite. Do go, Josephine, and see what Winny is about, and hurry her in getting tea ready." "So he is to marry his cousin !" thought Josephine, as she descended the cliff-path to the cottage, and a little sigh of envy escaped her. "He is the handsomest man I ever saw !" was her next mental observation. 66 How much to be envied in every way is this beautiful Miss Barrington! Surely some get more than their share of the good things of life! Some highly favoured children of earth pursue a pathway from the cradle to the grave fragrant with flowers and glittering with sunshine. Will there be any compensation in the next world, I wonder, for those whose walk in life is dark and rugged, and uninviting, and who pass along to the gloomy end weary and worn, and wounded!" While the young girl was thus soliloquising, a newly awakened feeling of envy shadowing her usually pleasant thoughts, Mrs. Dormer had renewed the conversation about the heiress, asking Max if she was very wealthy. "And you heard the thruth for onct in your life." These words came abruptly in deep harsh tones, making the aunt and nephew look around in eager surprise. A singular-looking woman in the dress of the peasantry stood in the door of the summerhouse, the soft moss which carpeted the rock having prevented their hearing her approaching footsteps. "You heard nothing but the thruth," she repeated, her dark sunken eyes gleaming with angry excitement, "for a blacker villain never dhrew the breath of life than that same Major Barrington." The hood of her blue cloak was drawn closely over her head, partly shading the dark, hollow-worn face, but the restless passionate eyes recalled to Max Butler's mind an elderly woman whom he had that day met in the house of a sick parishioner, and whom he understood was a well-known character in the neighbourhood. "How did you get here ?" he asked, in surprise. "I did not observe you coming up the path from the cottage." "I came a shorter cut; I climbed up the rocks from the road below." "Rather a difficult ascent," observed Mrs. Dormer, eyeing the stranger curiously; but as her eye rested on those stern features, so deeply lined either by sorrow or passionperhaps both a strong feeling of compassion stole into her heart, and she asked kindly if she could do anything for her. "I didn't come for help. I'm not a beggar," she answered stiffly. "Then what did you come for ?" asked Max, sharply, displeased at her ungracious reply to his aunt. "I come to ax your riverence for a bit of advice about a thing that's bothering the life out of me, but sure if you can't spake aisy to a body it's no use saying more about it. Parsons should be able to keep "Yes, the estate since her father's death has been well managed by the agent, Mr. Crofton, one of my parishioners, and a shrewd, clever man in his way-and her money invested so as largely to increase her income. Her father left the property some- their timper, and not snap the head off what encumbered at his death. He was a dissipated, bad man, I have heard." one." "I stand reproved," said Max, with a pleasant smile, amused at the strange man- wasting talk upon that, and as I see you're ner of his new acquaintance. Mrs. Dormer now left the summer-house and proceeded towards the cottage, supposing the woman would prefer a private conference with her nephew. a new hand at the business, take me advice and don't be thryin' to convart any of Fath you do. "Dinah Blake, at your sarvice," was the er Burke's flock. It'll be worse for you if curt reply. The ould parson never done it." "I am not trying to convert you,” said Max, with a good humoured smile. I know well the devotion of the Irish peasantry to the faith of their fathers, and have no intention of interfering with their religious be lief." CHAPTER VII. DINAH'S TETE-A-TETE WITH THE PARSON. I DIDN'T think you belonged to my flock," remarked the clergyman, as he motioned his visitor to a seat near him. "Nor do I. I'm a Roman, as all my people was afore me, and you're a Prodestant." There was a slight ring of contempt in her voice. "I am a Catholic," hastily interrupted the Rev. Max, who was imbued with High Church notions, and resented the idea of being called a Protestant. "A Catholic !" repeated Dinah, in surprise. "Aren't you the new parson that's come lately to Carraghmore?" "Yes, but I call myself a Catholic; I don't mean a Roman Catholic though," Max added by way of explanation. "Och, that makes all the differ! You're one of the New Light, may be, for I hear that every day there's some new religion starting up, but it would be betther for you if you belonged to the Ould Church." "And so I do!" put in Max, decidedly. "I'm a minister of the Apostolic Catholic Church." A scornful light flashed from Dinah Blake's keen dark eyes. "I didn't come here to discoorse about religion," she said, coolly. "Sure, all you could say till doomsday wouldn't make me believe that your church is as ould as mine, come down to us from the Holy Apostles themselves, besides all the Saints and martyrs. It's no use "And where would be the use of it!" asked Dinah, bluntly. "Sure, they'd believe what the priest tells them agin all the praching of you Prodestants, even with the Lord Primate of all Ireland himself at your head." "I quite agree with you there, but let us drop this discussion, and tell me in what way I can be of service to you. I think you said there was something troubling your mind.” "And so I did, your riverence! The Lord be good to us, but it's a world of throuble anyhow. It's happy for them that's well out of it. I wondher what the half of us miserable craythurs was ever sent into it for ?" the woman added, with gloomy bitterness. "To serve God and prepare for a better and happier world," was the clergyman's grave rejoinder to this passionate outburst of discontent. "It isn't one in a hundhred does that, and small blame to them, when one thinks how hard it is!" she retorted vehemently. "What wid the divil tempting us," she continued, with a defiant look at Max, "and the bad passions in one's own heart, and the throuble and disthress, and poverty, sure it's few of God's craythurs will ever see the light of Heaven." "Why do you take so gloomy a view of this matter," asked the clergyman, passionately. com "Och, parson dear! isn't the gloomy, view the thrue one ?" she asked, with touch ing pathos" at least for one like me," she hastily added, "that has one great sin to answer for." it was bekase of the great wrong he done one belonging to me." "In what way did you carry out your re "And it is that which troubles you ?" venge ?" Max remarked, interrogatively. Dinah nodded an affirmative. "It seems strange you should come to me for advice instead of Father Burke." "The rason is just this, the priest wouldn't advise me unless I tould him all in confession, and it doesn't suit me to do that." "So there is a secret. Does it concern others as well as yourself?" "To be sure it does! and it's on that account I don't want to tell it." "But how can I give you any advice in the matter unless I understand more about it." "Thrue for you! and I'm going to make it as plain as I can to your riverence with out telling all. Well, the truth is," Dinah continued, after a short pause, "I did a revingeful act onct in me life, and it was owing intirely to that bad man yourself and your aunt was talking about when I come up." "Major Barrington!" repeated Max, in surprise. Himself, and no other! as wicked a man as the divil ever got into his clutches, and he has him now fast enough anyhow!" Dinah added, with the fiendish glitter of gratified revenge in her passionate eyes. "You shouldn't rejoice in the ruin of an immortal soul," remarked the clergyman reprovingly. "Shouldn't rejoice!" she exclaimed, hissing the words through her set teeth. "Shouldn't rejoice that the divil has got his own, when the black-hearted rascal was the ruination of one belonging to me! And it was on account of that I revinged meself on him." "On account of what? Pray speak more to the point." 66 Och, but it's hard to insinse you into "That just what I can't tell, but I want to know if I ought to make aminds for it." "Certainly, if it is in your power," was the clergyman's prompt answer. "Aisy, your riverence. Now, suppose by remedying it as you say, I do another great wrong to an innocent craythur, what then? Two wrongs won't make a right; so I'm puzzled intirely." "I really cannot advise you unless you are more explicit," observed Max, rather impatiently. "I think the best thing you can do would be to reveal the secret in confession to your spiritual guide, Father Burke; he will no doubt be able to make your way clear before you." "Faix, it's dark enough now at any rate!" remarked Dinah Blake, moodily. "I can't make up me mind to do as you say, bekase I know Father Burke would ordher me to right her by all manes." "Right whom?" enquired Max eagerly. "That's part of me saycret, your riverence." "But why can't you decide upon doing right to the one you have wronged," he asked, his curiosity now fully aroused by the woman's strange communication. "For the very good rason that in doing so I would be bringing ruination and disgrace to one who isn't to blame at all at all." "It does seem a singular case," remarked the clergyman thoughtfully, but as I do not thoroughly understand it and you will not explain it fully, I really can give no other advice than what I have already given. How long is it since the evil act regret was committed ?" you "About eighteen years; a good while back your riverence." "And is it only now it troubles your con the maning of it!" she exclaimed, with an science?" Max enquired, with a look of sur impatient gesture. "Can't you undherstand prise. "Well, the thruth is, whilst I had health and strength it never bothered me at all; I was so glad to be able to circumvint him you see." "Who ?" enquired Max. "The Major! Who else! Sure, I tould it to him on his dying bed, and had the joy of seeing him dhruv near out of his mind with the grief and rage, bekase he couldn't do nothing to remedy it then, being just in the clutch of death. Och, it was a glorious revinge!" and the restless black eyes flashed with cruel brightness as memory presented that death-bed scene in Barrington House, some eighteen years before. I am afraid you do not feel very penitent," observed the Rev. Max Butler, with grave rebuke. "Sorra bit!" she answered curtly, a grim smile flickering over her stern features. "But you see I'm getting ould, and it's time to be thinking of makin' me sowl. The dhread of purgatory is afore me night and day. Bedad, it'll put me in me grave soon, if something isn't done to aise me conscience. Your Church does not believe in purgatory, your riverence." "You should not cherish such intense hatred towards this man," said Max, sternly, shocked at the woman's vindictive outbreak. "And why not ?" she demanded fiercely; "didn't he bring disgrace and death to me door." "Was he ever punished," asked Max, on whom there dawned some suspicion of this strange woman's grievance. "Never! What punishment does the law of the land allow to the black-hearted desaver, who leads an innocent girl asthray?" demanded Dinah, with wild excitement in her look and manner; "and the raison is the men make the laws to suit themselves. Sure it would be different if the women had the upper hand, but that's what they'll never have; the men will hould their own agin them to the end." "And it is right they should," broke in Max, hastily, " for Adam was first formed, then Eve." "Och, bother, parson! do you mane to tell me that the Almighty ever intinded that the purtiest craythur he made should be kept down like a slave, and bethrayed, and wrong "No; we believe in an earthly purgatory, a purification by suffering here on earth, noted, and kilt intirely just bekase she wasn't after death, you know." "Yes; I know what you mane well enough, but that docthrine won't hould good in all cases, parson. It might for the poor and the sorrowful, for them that's steeped in poverty all their life-but what purgatory have the rich and the great in this world! What purgatory had Major Barrington, the villain," she continued, an impetuous "Wasn't all the blessings of angry tones. heaven showered upon him here below ? and do you mane to say there's no fires of purgatory awaiting him in another world. Yes there is!" she added, with fierce veh emence." I couldn't believe in the eternal justice of God if there was not. And he is up to his neck in them now! and if one little prayer of mine could get him out I'd never say it. Not if I lived till Doomsday!" made afore the man. And it's a mane sneak that same Adam was," she continued, with a gesture of contempt and a ring of intense scorn in her voice. "Afther ating the apple, and injoying it as much as his wife, didn't he, the spalpeen, put all the blame upon her, instead of standing up bouldly and confessing his sin afore his Maker. Bedad, afther that, there isn't a man among ye ought to hould up your heads! It ought to take the consate out of ye !" "You have not a high opinion of mankind, I see," said Max, with a hearty laugh. "Thrue for you, parson dear! not but that I'll allow there is some good men to the fore, although it's a pity the number isn't greater. But I must be going, its gettin' late, for there's the sun sinking down behind the mountains, and I have a good piece of the road between me and Pat Sullivan's, where I'm going to spend the night." "I hope you will make up your mind to see Father Burke," observed Max, as Dinah rose to go away." "I'll think about it," she answered coolly. "Faix, meself can't yet see the sinse of doing a great wrong to one in ordher to do right to another. It's mighty puzzling intirely, and bothers me a good dale when I think of dying." "You should attend more to your religious duties, Dinah, and try to crush out of your heart the bitter hatred you feel towards a man long since in his grave," remarked the clergyman earnestly. "How can you expect God to forgive your sins if you don't forgive those who have injured you ?" "That's aisier said nor done," she answered doggedly. "Sure I have the bitther revingeful nature of me people, descinded from the Spaniards, they say." “But, Dinah, you should remember you are getting old; death may take you away suddenly.” "Thrue for you, parson dear, and I'm afeard I'll never see the light of glory," she replied, with mournful pathos and a quiver of emotion about the stern mouth. "It's the onchristian life I have led, sure enough, for many a long day, nursing the cruel malice and revinge in me heart's core, and now repintance doesn't come aisy to me, and worst of all I can't go to confession bekase I'd have to make a clane breast of it, and that's what I hate to think of. Bedad, it'll break me ould heart to bring disgrace on Nora's child!" This concluding remark she muttered, as if speaking to herself, but it caught the quick ear of Max, startling him with a sudden suspicion. Just at this moment Josephine Dormer's graceful figure was seen at the cottage door, calling Max to come to tea. Dinah Blake gazed at the beautiful girl with a strange look in her dark flashing eye. They are mighty like one another,” she remarked, thoughtfully; "only she is fairer and more like him. She is mighty purty, that young cousin of yours," she continued, turning to Max with a significant look, and emphasising the word cousin. "Yes," he answered curtly. "They might aisily pass for sisthers; they're as like as two pase," Dinah continued, still eyeing Josephine with no loving look. "You mean my cousin and Miss Barrington," remarked the clergyman, interrogatively. "Av coorse I do." "They certainly do resemble each other; the likeness struck me forcibly." "So it might; any one with an eye can see it; the only differ betune them is the young heiress is taller and darker-skinned. And you call that girl your cousin!" Dinah resumed after a short pause. "She is my cousin," was the short, halfirritable answer. "I wondher how you, a parson, can tell such a barefaced lie!" said Dinah, as she faced the Rev. Max Butler indignantly. "And to tell it to me, too, who know all about her !" "What do you know?" burst eagerly from Max, as the colour mounted to his face at the woman's blunt censure. "This much anyhow, that she is not any kin of yours, and that she was left a foundling in the streets of Galway a good many years ago." "How do you know that ?" |