choose me on this service; for I have a strong assurance that I will not be altogether unsuccessful with Lord Thomas. But your lordship has told me what it wrings my heart to hear. I have had sorrows of my own, my lord, for this year back, that have made me familiar with grief; but my heart were callous indeed if it were not touched by the miserable end that you tell me my benefactor has come to. Pardon this emotion, my lord, it will be shortly gone; but I cannot just now control it. I may say I had no other father: a kinder father I could not have had. From my sixth year his house was my home; his countenance was my only patrimony. Yes, my lord; doubt me not, I will strive to repay him but alas that I can never do as his bounty towards me would deserve! My lord, it was no wonder I forgot my allegiance, when I thought that such a man had met with foul play but, as I took up the sword last June for his sake, I now take up this message of peace with a right willing heart, and only pray God to grant me success proportioned to my zeal in the undertaking."

:

"That would bring all things to a happy issue, I doubt not," replied Cromer; "and now, if you will come to me and Sir William Skeffington in half-an-hour, your instructions will be ready. But before you go, Sir John, lest it should seem strange that I have talked so earnestly with you in this matter, it behoves me to explain still farther. The Lord Deputy is surrounded by adventurers, needy, grasp ing, and unscrupulous. These are, one and all, desirous of prosecuting the war while an acre of the rebel's estates remains to be confiscated. This has been the secret of so many failures in negociation, and this influence will operate even now in rendering the terms which you will have to propose less acceptable than they would be if left to the unbiassed arrangement of the Lord Deputy himself. I have therefore sought, so far as I have been able, to urge you to such perseverance and exertion as will be needed before this proud lord can be brought to stomach our conditions; and I again beseech you to remember how many thousands of your countrymen depend

for life and happiness upon the result of your endeavours."

May God judge me, as I do my best for all parties!" said Talbot. "And now, my lord, as I start in so short a time, I would, if it please you, spend a part of it with one who is very dear to me it is long, my lord, since we have had a happy half-hour to ourselves before today.”

“Go to her, my son,” said Cromer : "go to her, and assure her of every kind office that tenderness can bestow upon her till you return. It is hard to separate you now; but there is no other man can do the work, and it must not be delayed.”

In half-an-hour after, Ellen descended to the courtyard, leaning on the arm of her husband. The Archbishop's attendants had a horse litter prepared for her journey to the abbey: it was the same, although more carefully spread and curtained, that had borne her to Maynooth. Ah, Ellen," said Talbot, as he placed her with her attendant in the rude vehicle, “we had a different prospect before us the night we last drew these curtains round us in Barnsbeg!"

"May the Queen of Heaven keep us from ever spending such a night again!" she replied; "but, thank God, all were well now if you could but succeed in this blessed errand. Dear John, spare no intreaty, use every argument. Oh, if you but restore us to peace, we will have purchased such a blessing cheaply by all we have endured."

"I shall do my best, love," he replied. "And now, till I return, be careful of yourself. Norah, I expect to see Art with my Lord Thomas : who knows but I may bring him back a free man before the week is over? Now, then, farewell. I shall seck you at Saint Mary's on my return; and may Heaven bless you, and all good angels watch over you till then!"

The litter, with its attending cortege, moved on, and Talbot returned to the courtyard, to receive his instructions. The sight which met his eyes as he issued out from under the low archway was such as to dispel the joy that had expanded his heart the moment before. Six of the rebel prisoners hung writhing from as many temporary gallowses in the agony of death: the others stood or knelt around, awaiting their fate, as two

confessors prepared them successively for execution. "Oh, God," exclaimed the knight, raising his eyes in silent prayer, "grant that I may be the instrument of putting an end to these horrors!" and with a confirmed determination to use every means of accomplishing his purpose, he proceeded to the keep, averting his eyes from the shocking spectacle as he passed; and, shuddering to hear the murmured prayers of those who were next to undergo the dreadful sentence. The Archbishop received him with a look of melancholy intelligence, and, handing him a packet, said, "These, Sir John, are your instructions, which you may peruse by the road. I trust in God they may afford a remedy for all such scenes as you have just passed through; but, should they fail, I doubt not you will be able to console yourself by the reflection that it will not be for lack of any exertion on your part. Now mount, Sir John, and ride day and night till you do your errand.”

My lord," replied the Knight, "I will need a sufficient escort as well as guides."

"Your escort is prepared," replied the Archbishop; "but I doubt me if they know the country sufficiently for rapid travelling. Where lies the rebel now, my Lord Deputy ?”

My last intelligence left him near the Slieve Bloom mountains," replied Skeffington; "but, if the Knight pleases, he can have one of these unfortunate kerns of the garrison, whose life I will forgive on condition of his guiding the party. Is there any of the Irish whom you would choose for such a service, Sir John?"

"My lord," replied Talbot, "the two men who know the country beyond the pale better than any others in Leinster are O'Madden and Sheridan, who would, either or both, gratefully purchase their pardons by such a service: they are without in the courtyard."

Take them," said Skeffington, "but see that you bring them back in safe custody. We will draft them into the King's new levies. Salisbury, tell the Provost-marshal to give the poor rascals up. A little clemency, my Lord Chief Justice, may, after all, be useful in reconciling the people to our authority."

"Yes, my lord," replied the Chief

Justice, "when it does not prejudice the vindication of the King's authority." But Talbot waited to hear no farther discussion: he returned to the courtyard, where he found the liberated galloglass already forced on horseback, but blessing God for their escape. They would have thrown themselves on their knees when they saw their deliverer; but Talbot sprang on Glundhu, (for his charger had been brought to Maynooth at the saine time with himself,) and, clapping spurs to his sides, dashed out of the gateway, glad to leave such a scene of blood and torture behind him. O'Madden and Sheridan now pricked forward to the head of the party, to point out their route, and Talbot received their thanks as they rode beside him.

Indeed, Master O'Madden," said the Knight, in reply to the fervent acknowledgments of the captain of the platform, "I have received a greater service at your hands than you at mine. But for your timely account of Wafer's death, the Archbishop would never have thought of examining my enemy, and I might have lain under the blame of Archbishop Alan's murder to this hour."

"Look yonder, your nobleness," said Sheridan, turning round at that moment and pointing to the barbican, while a grim smile spread itself over his harsh features. As he spoke, a pike was raised above the parapet, having a human head stuck on the point.

"A fit end for him!" said O'Madden. "The executioner might well say, 'here is the head of a traitor,' when he held up that of Christopher Parez."

"May God forgive him," said Talbot: "he was my bitter and unprovoked enemy."

"A bitter enemy, indeed," replied O'Madden; "to sacrifice hundreds of friends that never injured him to his ill will against you alone. It must have been something stronger than mere malice that could have made him so wanton a traitor."

"He has paid the penalty of his treason now," said Talbot, "and let that be enough for the present: mean time, Master O'Madden, which of these roads shall we take ?" O'Madden, thus rebuked, confined himself to his duties as guide, and did not again mention

the name of Parez during their journey. They took a south-westerly course through Kildare, towards the confines of Ofaly, where they learned, by the report of the country on the borders of the pale, that Lord Thomas's army was likely to be found, as he had within the last two days effected a junction with O'Connor, and was only awaiting the arrival of O'Neil from the north to march in full force upon Dublin. Talbot heard this intelligence with great regret he had hoped to find Lord Thomas alone in the command of his own troops, and he knew how difficult it would be to urge ungrateful conditions on a man already possessed of powerful resources, and daily expecting a further accession to his strength; bound also by engagements to others, and perhaps not altogether independent of their direction in the disposal of even his own forces. Still he had a great sustaining confidence in the goodness of his cause, and became but the more zealously disposed as he saw his chances of success growing more uncertain. About sunset next evening the peaceful cavalcade drew near the rebel camp. Lord Thomas's army was posted in and about a castle occupying a little plain, surrounded on three sides by bog and thicket, and defended on the fourth by a trench, staked and palisadoed, with strong gateways in the centre. A prey of upwards of a thousand head of cattle, which had been driven out of Butler's country across the whole breadth of Ofaly, afforded the messengers of peace a guide for the last ten miles of their road; and had it not been for their timely aid, it might have proved impossible, with all their guides' knowledge of the country, to have reached their destination that night, so intricate and rugged were the paths that traversed the seemingly interminable forest surrounding it. At length, however, they drew up at the entrance to the post described above; but Talbot was surprised to observe that the huts and tents composing the camp before him, instead of being pitched over the whole space of open ground, which was not by any means too extensive for their exclusive occupation, were crowded closely together in one corner, while the rest of the plain appeared to have been recently occupied by similar

dwellings equally straitened, for the ground was trampled bare, and ploughed with waggon wheels, while the rude framework of many deserted huts stood here and there among scattered piles of provender, and the useless lumber of temporary cattle-sheds and stables. Two great flag-staffs rose from different quarters of the unoccupied ground, neither of them bearing any standard; but the Geraldine banner waved from a third of similar proportions, over the remaining division. Talbot was afraid to trust himself with any too favourable conjecture, so, without waiting to speculate on such a strange appearance, he demanded instant admission to the camp. The gates were readily thrown open to his party, and they advanced, with their flag of truce displayed, to the tower in the centre of the little eminence where the insurgent leaders were assembled. Talbot was at once ushered into the chief apartment, a stone vaulted room, furnished with no other windows than a few narrow loop holes, but made cheerful by a blazing hearth, and partially hung with a temporary tapestry of banners and tent canvassing. A long table bore the remains of a banquet, and round the upper end of this at the heads of the enterprise. Lord Thomas rose, as did the rest of the party, when Talbot appeared at the door; but the rebel lord made no advance to meet him. "I come, my lord and gentlemen," said the Knight, somewhat piqued at so cold a reception, "upon a mission from men who would willingly be your friends if you will permit them. May I crave to know when your lordship will be at leisure to hear iny errand ?"

"Those who would have our friendship," replied Lord Thomas, "might show, methinks, somewhat more respect to our honour, than to require that we should treat with a man in your condition, Sir John Talbot.”

My lord," replied the Knight, "I have to blame myself in not first delivering this paper, which will explain to you how my embassy cannot be counted as any disparagement to your lordship's power or quality." So saying, he took forth an open letter, which he sent forward to the head of the table by an attendant.

Lord Thomas coloured deeply as he read the paper, and, ere he had quite

finished its perusal, threw it on the table, and advanced with frank good will to meet and welcome his old companion. "By my honour, Sir John," he said, grasping his hand, "I am rejoiced at this; and right glad I am to be able to bid you welcome to my quarters as I could wish by an old friend, and, I will say, a true and worthy one, till my own miserable error, which I heartily pray you to forgive, drove you from the service in just and reasonable indignation. Uncles and gentlemen, I pray you, forgive me for not first telling you that this charge against Sir John Talbot has been altogether set aside, that he is quite innocent of Alan's blood, and that the church's bann against him has been peremptorily remitted. Read the paper, Sir Oliver; it is under the hand and seal of the Primate: read it aloud, that we may all hear it."

"Before God, Sir John," cried the old Knight, cordially shaking Talbot by the hand, ere he had yet looked at the Primate's letter, "I am better pleased to hear this than if you had brought us the Gunner's head for your credentials! But surely you have not taken service with the churls? though, by my honour, if you did, it would be little wonder, after the wrong you have suffered at our hands."

these proud barbarians, that are neither fit to command nor willing to obey."

“We are well rid of thein," cried one of the Fitzgeralds, more excited by wine than the others; "a crew of prickeared wood-kernes! They would have their bonaghts and their black mail out of Desmond! they would let us hold by coyne and living without the pale! A pity that their brehons are not sitting in Mary's Abbey portioning out Kildare among their gilly redshanks! Let the bare-legged savage go back to Dungannon, say I; we have fought our own battle before now, and can again !"

"Can and will, Maurice," said Sir Oliver. "So, let us forget that dissension and its ill issue; for we are here bound to do justice to this injured gentleman, by attending to his proposals in the first place; not, however, till I read this paper, as my nephew desires, that you may all know ye sit in honourable company." He then, with a loud voice, read the Archbishop's letter:

"To all whom it may concern: know that we, Richard Armagh, Primate of all Ireland, having diligently inquired into the truth of certain charges, whereby Sir John Talbot, Knight, stood accused of being a partaker in the foul and sacrilegious murder of our brother do find that the said Sir John Talbot, of Dublin, at Artane, in July last past, Knight, is clearly innocent of all participation in that horrid cruelty. Wherefore, we have remitted and abolished the unjust sentence erewhile pronounced against him for that supposed crime, by certain well-disposed but misjudging servants of the church; and we hereby command all churchmen of our primacy to admit the said Sir John Talbot, Knight, to the enjoyment of all such comfortable rites and consolations as the church extends to other members of her holy communion. -Richard Armagh.-Given atHow, in the devil's name, is this?" exclaimed Sir Oliver, stopping short when he came to the dating of the document. Given at his Majesty's castle of Maynooth, this eight-and-twentieth of March!'-'fore God, this looks as if the Gunner had been too many for us!"

They all turned their eyes upon Talbot for a reply, and many brave

men changed colour as they awaited the information he would give. Lord Thomas poured out a goblet of wine, and drank it off at a draught. "Speak out," he said, returning the cup, with a violent motion of his hand, to the table, * speak out, Sir John, are we late to raise the siege ?"

"Maynooth is taken," replied Talbot: *the English stormed the place a little before sunrise yesterday."

There was a minute's dead silence; at length Lord Thomas took his hand from his brow, to which he had unconsciously been pressing it. "It is ill news, kinsman," he said; "but it is not the first mishap we have had to get the better of; and since Maynooth is fallen, we can but drink a cup of wine to the corner-stone of Rathangan; and yet there were many brave fellows in Maynooth; some that were both near and dear to me: but I doubt not they played their part as well as they might. But now, Sir John, I suppose the survivors of my people have been all executed?" He spoke with forced calmness, but it was evident the news had crushed him sorely.

Not all, my lord," replied the Knight. The lieutenant of the barbican and his company made their escape."

"I little thought to hear that the son of Connogher had turned his back upon his friends, and they in that pinch," exclaimed Lord Thomas.

"My lord, he did not fly till the place was lost past all hope of recovery; and when he did make good his retreat, it was through the ranks of the enemy, in as soldierly a sally as I ever saw given from castle gates."

"Well, be it so; but I will venture to say my warden did not leave his post while a man of his company stood by him."

My lord," said Talbot, "I have some further news, which, if it be your pleasure, I would rather communicate in private, as well as the proposals which I have been directed to submit to your own judgment."

If anything that you have to say affects yourself, Sir John," replied Fitzgerald, "I will willingly attend you in my own apartment; but if your news in any way touches our enterprise, I pray you to tell it openly in presence of these noble gentlemen,

who are all equally concerned with myself in whatever has to do with our common cause."

"My lord, I will have to tell you that which you would rather hear alone.” "Tell it here, in God's name, Sir John: if it do make a woman of me, I am not ashamed to show my kinsmen and friends that I can be sad at our misfortunes."

“Then, my lord, I must tell you that you have been much deceived in your warden."

“What, did Kit not play his part like a man ?"

"He played his part like a traitor, my lord, as he ever was. He sold the castle."

"Now, by the King of the Elements, Sir John," exclaimed Lord Thomas, starting to his feet, "if you have said this of my foster-brother without such proof as shall satisfy this honourable company"- -But Sir Oliver, interposing, cut short the incompleted threat:

"Nephew, sit down; remember you are at your own board: if Sir John Talbot has made this charge out of mere malice-for I know that he and Parez have long been bitter enemies— there is no man here will more readily resent the injury done your kinsman; but hear him out, for, by my father's bones, I should little wonder if Parez had proved all he says, after the hateful villainy that, but for me, he would have practised on the citizens' children that day in Preston's Inns.

"What villainy ?" cried Lord Thomas, "I never heard of any villainy that he had attempted on the citizens' children."

"Then, on my word, I have been much to blame in not telling you of it ere now, my lord," replied Sir Oliver; "he would have set the innocent infants on his breastwork to deter the gunners on the castle wall from firing into his battery, had I not, by God's good providence, come up at the minute and rescued them from certain destruction."

"I never heard of this before," said Lord Thomas, colouring, partly with indignation at the base design, and partly with vexation at the prospect of more displeasing intelligence.

Talbot took advantage of the pause "On my that followed to proceed: