manded a view of the conflagration, he would turn with a sick heart, expecting to see the fiery gap crowded with enemies, for he could not reconcile it to his imagination, that they who were now approaching could be friends to him, yet vowed exterminators at the same time, of those with whom he was so strangely associated. "Alas!" thought he, "in the darkness and confusion of such a strife, how can I hope that men with weapons in their hands I will wait to examine the dress or aspects of their antagonists? and whither can we fly? these inland fastnesses are surely not more impregnable than they considered this-and this, what is it but a trap where they will be taken like ensnared beasts of chase? Oh holy and blessed Francis, look down on thy distressed servant! I know not which way to turn, or whither to betake myself!" A louder shout than had yet sounded from the woods, now interrupted his painful meditations, and, on looking round, the affrighted monk at last saw all he dreaded, an irruption of armed men pouring in a dense column through the breach, and joining hand to hand in battle with the Muintir Gillmore, on the very verge of the spent conflagration; these striving to thrust their assailants back into the flames on either hand, and they struggling to make their escape out of the narrow furnace up which they had rushed to the assault. "Hasten on, hasten on!" cried the monk to the panting bearers of the litter, himself scarce less exhausted; "Oh, make speed, my friends, and hasten, or they will be upon us! they are pouring through like a torrent! the brands are trampled into ashes under their feet! the flames are like walls of fire on each side of them: oh Jesu, it is as though the pit itself were vomiting forth its legions!"

The increased clamour had reached the ears of the sick man also. 66 They are coming down from the king's castle," he exclaimed; "they are coming down the main street with horse and foot-don't wait to search the prior's house-it is iron we want; we have enough of gold and silverAy, down with it, down with it; the bars are worth a king's ransom to mebring crows and hammers-tear it down at any cost; no matter for the

breaking of the glass; it is the iron we have need for, and the stauncheons are of hammered iron!"

"Jesu Maria! he thinks he is at the plundering of our chapel," exclaimed the monk; "he is acting over his sacrilege, while God is avenging it! he thinks it is but the painted oriel of our church that he has torn away, while Heaven, with wind and fire for its avengers, is dragging down the last bulwark of his own fastness! Oh God, how wondrous are thy ways; how fearfully is wickedness by thy hands made the instrument of its own punishment! Oh, friends, hurry on! "we are scarce yet half way; and your kindred cannot long resist that pouring torrent: blessed Francis, they rush upon us through fire and smoke, like the infernal ministers of vengeance!"

"Make haste, make haste," repeated one of the foremost bearers; "I see them coming from the camp to urge us on."

"It is the bantierna coming to meet us," replied his supporter; "it is Harry Oge that is with her; I saw them plainly in the last flash from the breach below."

“We carry them a doleful burthen,” said the other; "but better this than when we brought home Adam Garv from the breach of Lisnagarvy; but here they are approaching us: shall we set down the litter ?"

"No time for stopping now," cried the leader briefly; then, raising his voice, he cried to the lady, now within call:-" Turn back, bantierna; Clan Savage has passed the breach, and we are bound for the hill with what speed we may."

But the lady only came forward the faster: Is Mac Gillmore safe?" she cried, pressing forward to the side of the litter, and eagerly bending over its wretched occupant.

"He is safe, daughter, from any new infliction," replied the monk; “but his malady has been sorely aggravated by these luckless efforts: hurry on, hurry on, and I trust that if he can be borne to a place of safety before midnight, he may yet recover."

But the sick man's ravings only increased. Oh, dear Hugh, do not talk so," cried the lady stooping to wipe away the froth from his lips, as he wandered from one horror to

another, unconscious of her presence; “only speak to me, and say that you know I am by your side-it is I, Hugh, it is your own Mary that is with you. Alas, God help me! he does not even know the sound of my voice!"

"You might have judged, bantierna, that he would not have left the breach if he had known the work he was leaving behind him,” said one of the bearers.

"Alas, the day that he ever put his hand to work of such a murderous sort!" exclaimed the lady, bitterly.

"Daughter," said brother Virgil, "it is sinful to repine while any hope is left; thou mayest still escape, and Mac Gillmore may still recover: let the bearers carry him forward, and we will accompany them as far in advance of thy people's retreat as our time permits: are thy fastnesses in the interior such as will afford security when gained ?"

"They will give shelter for a time," replied the lady, mournfully, "to the few who may escape the sword to night; but, father, you are forgetful of your own safety in anxiety for ours. It is time that you took shelter either in the caves, or on the skirts of the wood below, until the confusion shall be passed, when your people will be safe of approach; for if you remain among us, angry men such as these are, may not wait to make distinctions among those who come in their way."

"But it is not my design to await their coming, lady," said the monk.

"Then you must abandon our dangerous society without delay," she replied; for I fear that we have but a few minutes left for our last preparations. Your safest path is to the right: you can await the issue in security anywhere out of arrow range. If you can win your people to mercy on such children of our nation as may fall into their hands, we will bless you for your charitable advocacy. Farewell, father," she continued, extending her hand, while her broken accents attested the depth of her emotion, "farewell-may the blessings of the Christian's mother go with you! If my child be but spared me," and she drew the boy closer to her side; "if God spare him longer to us, I will teach him to pray for the good priest who came to save him and his people. I would to God

I could offer you better protection,' she continued, perceiving that brother Virgil still delayed; "but, alas, I can only pray you, as you value your own safety, to avoid us; yet believe me we would not be ungrateful: all the remaining spoils of your priory shall be returned before noon tomorrow."

"Lady," said the Franciscan firmly, "thou dost mistake my errand and my purpose: I came to preach the gospel of peace among thy people; and if war have for a time interrupted the good work, I am not on that account to abandon it. I have taken my resolve, daughter: I will not leave the Clan Gillinore in this trouble."

"But, dear father," said the lady, "you know not what hardships and privations are before us: we have no means of lodging you as becomes your station in the woods. You are unaccustomed to the fatigue of such journeys as our people must make from day to day. I well know what a comfort it would be to all of the name to have the minister of peace and righteousness among them; but, holy father, we have no right to look for that blessing, while we are by our own wickedness deprived of the means of enjoying it. Leave us, father: you have done all that Christian zeal and piety can do for our aid if God has decreed that we should be outcasts, be it so you, at least, have done nothing to participate in his displeasure."

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Daughter," said the good man, "it is sinful to give way to this despondency. God has not abandoned you; do not urge me to abandon Him. It is for the good of my own soul as well as of yours that I go with you into this wilderness. I came hither, God forgive me! too much on the selfish and unworthy impulse of ambition, hoping to gain worldly glory as the wages of my service to the church; and worthily indeed have I gained the wages of my desecrated office in shame and in disappointment. It has been my own fault that I have failed: my punishment, I trust, has taught me purer motives. If God spare me I am ready to make the trial again in a spirit worthier, I would fain hope, of success; and I doubt not but that if it please him to favor my errand, I will be enabled to endure whatever sufferings we shall have to encounter."

Brother Virgil's determination had sprung up irresistibly in his own bosom almost while announcing it. It was not until the lady urged him to take measures for his separate security, that the baseness of such a desertion had appeared to him in its full extent. Knowledge of his unworthiness had humbled him in his own estimation long before; but it was not till he felt the lady's unintentional reproach, when she enumerated the difficulties which seemed to obstruct the path of such a man as he had heretofore shown himself that he became also conscious of the new strength which that humility had imparted. In a word, the good man felt himself impelled to a nobler exercise of duty, and, if his heart secrelty whispered that a corresponding reward of self-approbation awaited its performance, it was only one of a number of motives, none more natural, although some might boast of higher origin. His purpose announced, and no room left for further hesitation, the excellent man proceeded to assist in all the final preparation of his friends; and when, having at length gained the pathway, where quadrupeds could pick a footing they transferred the sick chief from the shoulders of his clans

men to a larger horse litter, brother Virgil aided in spreading the cloaks and drawing the curtains round his patient; and when on finally departing, each man placed a lighted turf under the thatch of his deserted dwelling, brother Virgil might be seen entering booth after booth, though the tide of war was now rolling louder and nearer every moment, to see that no infants or bedridden elders had been left behind, that no cattle remained fastened in their devoted stables, and that no necessary stores which might be carried away had been neglected. But there was now no longer time for circumspection; darkness had set in; the train of cattle had long since filed through the narrow pass to the top and back of the hill; the women and children were following in their track, and the escort of the chief, bringing up the rere of the cavalcade, had next to set forward. Towards the scene of battle, every thing gave token of rapidly approaching danger. Scout after scout rushed in to urge the loiterers on their journey. Owen Grumagh, unable to resist the multitude

of his assailants, had fallen back from pass to pass, and was now with difficulty holding the enemy at bay, at a distance of scarce three arrow flights. The good Franciscan was mounted hastily on his own mule, and hurried forward with the rest. He found the lady and her son in a conveyance similar to that which bore Mac Gillmore. The two litters proceeded side by side so long as the breadth of the road permitted, but when they had ascended about half way to the pass, those bearing the chieftain had to fall back and let the lady's take the lead up the narrower pathway. Meantime the conflict resounded louder and fiercer from behind; every moment brought the battle nearer, and at length in the light from the now blazing booths on one hand, and from the burning woods upon the other, the combatants themselves rushed into sight. On, on!" was now the cry from every mouth. "The kindred are flying; the Clan Savage are driving them like sheep before them! They will be among us before we pass the gap-hurry on, hurry on!"

"King of the elements! we are crushed to death! hold back as you would not trample over us!" again sounded in shrill accents from the head of the column, eliciting new shouts of " Way for the Tierna More!"-way for the bantierna !"and these again responded to by frantic cries:-"We cannot make way without slipping from the pathway; turn back yourselves, if ye be men, and face the enemy !"-""Tis hopeless now : we cannot make another stand till we pass the gap."- "Jesu Maria! their arrows are falling close to us already!"

The last was the exclamation of brother Virgil, who now perceived with dismay that the path a-head was so choked with fugitives crowding on one another, as to prevent the possibility of advance, at least for some time, while the approaching multitude of combatants, now fearfully near, and so intermingled in the uncertain light, as

scarce to be distinguishable into their respective parties, cut off all retreat, and almost made the situation of the outlaws desperate; for they were pent up on a narrow strip of greensward, with a sheer descent on one hand, and an over hanging precipice upon the other, and, should their assailants succeed in pushing their advantage but a little farther, would be exposed to the deliberate aim of archery from all the heights around. Random arrows were already whistling through the twilight overhead, and many of the fugitives, pushed from the path, were scrambling along the side, or rolling helpless to the bottom of the ravine beneath. In the midst of this disastrous confusion, brother Virgil suddenly found himself side by side with the lady, who, having dismounted from her litter to attend the sick chieftain, at the begining of the delay, was now unable to regain her place, and stood patiently awaiting her fate among the hindmost. "Mac Gillmore is safe," she said, in answer to the monk's hopeless glance of enquiry," they bore him forward by main force."

"And, dear lady, why didst thou not accompany him?" asked brother Virgil. “It shall never be said,” she replied, that I saved myself at the expense of my husband's people; they could not have borne me through without trampling over those in front."

"And the boy, lady?"

"Thank God, he is safe also; they placed him beside Mac Gillmore in the litter. Now that they are out of danger, I care not so much for myself; but would to God, father, you had never remained among us, for I fear this night will end badly for us all."

"It is a fearful adventure surely," cried the good monk, as he was pushed to and fro, in the tumult of a renewed alarm, for the band which had so long protected their retreat was again broken before the enemy, and forced to another position, still closer on their rear. Desperate efforts were now made by the fugitives to force a passage, but the gap became only more impassable the more it was crowded; many threw themselves down the steep declivity, in the hope of making their way, by separate paths, to the woods, but the arrows of Clan Savage arrested the flight of some, and others, falling headlong,

lay crushed among the rocks, or clung midway to scattered tufts of grass and brushwood on the bank. At length, however, the column began, once more, to move forward, but scarce was the door of safety thus opened to those in front, when the rear-guard, after debating every inch of ground to within an arrow's flight of their friends, was finally beaten back, broken and driven in pell-mell, on the hindmost fugitives. The unfortunate Franciscan in vain invoked the saints, in vain he cried that he was a Christian priest ;-Savages and Gillmores fighting hand to hand poured round him with the sweep of a torrent; he was whirled about like a straw in an eddy. One glimpse he caught, and no more, of Owen Grumagh, all bloody and begrimed, beset with enemies, and staggering under innumerable blows, yet still facing his antagonists, and crying to his kinsmen to stand by him, and fight it out. He saw no more, for the light suddenly left his eyes, and he fell from his mule under a blow, received he knew not whence, but weighty enough to deprive him of all sensa

tion for the time.

When the luckless inonk returned to

consciousness he found himself lying on the ground, much bruised, and suffering great pain. It was not without considerable difficulty that he rallied his senses so far as to recollect what had just happened; and when at length he grew fully conscious of his situation, nothing could exceed the anguish that took possession of himnatural sorrow for the mischance of his adopted friends, horror of the scene of carnage which he was conscious lay around, the sense of utter bereavement when he considered that those on whom his dearest hopes had been fixed were now dispersed and gone for ever; all this, joined to the pain of his own wound, and the dread that death was fast approaching, conspired to fill the poor man's heart with feelings of intense misery. Nothing doubting that the blow which had prostrated him was dealt by the sword or axe, and confusedly sensible of general pain, he lay for a minute half afraid to raise his hand to his head, or to make what he dreaded would be the ineffectual attempt to rise to his feet. At length, however, finding that, save a painful contusion on the back of his head,

there was no wound which the hand could detect, and that, although stiff and painful, his limbs had not lost their power of motion; he slowly rose to his knees, and, relieved of half his apprehensions, looked around. He was in the bottom of the ravine, whither he had rolled after being pushed from the path above by the feet of the trampling combatants. The reflection of the fires still played upon the gaunt wall of rock above, but in the deep hollow all was dark and melancholy. The fugitives had either fallen or were gone, for the pathway was occupied by the assailants only, and it seemed as if the Muintir Gillmore had once more made good a position beyond the narrow pass above, for the sound of strife still rose from among the rocks, and the halt of troops midway upon the ascent appeared to indicate a repulse. Brother Virgil had scarce observed so much, and returned thanks to God for his unhoped-for escape, when his ever prompt benevolence was excited by a low moan issuing from behind a clump of brushwood beside him. Rising on the first summons of charity, though his feeble limbs almost refused their burthen, the good man tottered forward in the direction of the sound. The dark reflection of the light from above showed him a prostrate figure half sunk among the heath; he bent down, and gazing narrowly, perceived that it was a female. She was moaning pitifully, and the monk, when he stooped to lift her, felt his hands wet with blood.

“Do not move me," faintly articulated the wounded woman-“ I am dying friend, send me the Franciscan priest, if he be among your people, for the love of God."

"Alas! alas! my daughter, is it thus that I find thee ?" exclaimed brother Virgil, forgetting his own wretchedness in deep and painful commiseration, for it was the hapless lady herself who lay before him, pierced through with an arrow, and panting forth her life on the ensanguined earth. Kneeling down beside her, the good monk would have tried to draw the arrow out of her breast, but she prayed that he would not pain her by the hopeless attempt. "I am fast approaching my deliverance," she whispered, " render me the rites of the church, dear father, and I will die contented."

"Blessed be God, who hast sent me to thee in this good time!" exclaimed the pious man; and perceiving that her last breath was nearly drawn, he hastened to administer the long lost consolations of her religion, with earnest and affectionate zeal. When the solemn rite was ended, the lady, who had been supported in the arms of her kneeling confessor, sank back heavily to the earth, and the Franciscan for a moment thought that the last struggle was over; but perceiving shortly after that her hand moved, as if to claim his attention, he bent down, and holding his head near her face, caught some imperfect request connected with a benediction on her child, whose name was the last word that the ill-fated lady uttered.

Bending over the lifeless clay, brother Virgil long knelt, forgetful of all but the absorbing presence of calamity and resignation greater than his own." Alas!” he cried, "why should I murmur at the pains and disappointments with which it has pleased Heaven to try me, when this daughter of affliction, without better aid or counsel than the feeble exhortations of a sinner like myself, has turned her grief into rejoicing, and gained the victory over death? Surely my mission has not been unavailing, when one soul, at least, by my ministration, is soaring through the gates of paradise. Glory to God and the blessed Francis ! I repine no longer at aught that I have suffered; and yet the flesh is weak to bear these pains and bruises—but, out upon thee Fergall Mac Naughtan! dost thou complain of wounds and bruises, yet seek to share the joy of Him who died upon the tree?"

"Benedicite, brother, whom shrive you?" suddenly demanded some one coming up behind him; and the Franciscan, raising his head, beheld with astonishment that he was addressed by an ecclesiastic. The new comer was attended by several men at arms, one of whom bore a torch, by the light of which the monk recognised a wellknown dignitary of the church.

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Deus vobiscum, Domine reverendissime," said brother Virgil, rising painfully to his feet, "your Lordship has found me in a time of great danger and tribulation."

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Glory to the blessed Comgall of Bangor," cried the stranger, who, al though panting and spent for breath