who appeared to command the party, beckoned to Henry, whom he addressed as Serjeant: "Here, come forward; our man's done for, I believe," and calling off the others, he retired to whisper with them in a corner of the room.

Profiting by the mistake, O'Hara mastered his feelings, and took his place beside his unfortunate friend. Lord Edward lay with his face partially averted, and unconscious of one he so well-loved being near him; his striking features betrayed the internal play of the strong passions which convulsed him ;-that daring and indomitable courage that had nerved him " todo or die" at times shed an unearthly tranquillity over his pale countenance, which was only broken by the intensity of bodily pain, or the desperate smile of gratified vengeance with which he viewed his victims rolling in agony on the ground. The pistols, which had snapped without being discharged, (it was said the primings had been traitorously injured,) and the double dagger, that had done its work of death too well, crimsoned to the hilt, were lying on the blood-stained floor.

In a few minutes the clattering of hoofs and

the heavy tread of marching men, told that the guard were waiting. Much difficulty arose in removing the wounded officers, as from the narrowness of the stairs few persons could be employed. During this operation, O'Hara found himself alone with the prisoner, and seizing on the opportunity, he spoke to him in a cautious whisper. In a moment, Fitzstephen's animated eye recognised his young friend:

66

Henry, my beloved boy, bend your head nearer mine-listen, but speak not, as the moments are few and precious. Think of me as of the dead, for I have my mortal wound; but haud inultus moriar:"" and he smiled darkly, as deep groans ascended from the hall, whither the wounded had been carried. "Your father is now the first object of vengeance, and, if removed, the tyrants will think their bitterest and worst enemies are gone; his trial comes on to-morrow! (Henry groaned.) Nothing but a miracle can save him; ride without stop or stay -bear him my last love, for this world is fast closing upon us both. Speak not, delay not; and may your enmity to the oppressors of your country be as deadly, as eternal, as mine." He

sank exhausted on the pillow, just as the captors re-entered with a surgeon, and motioned Henry to leave the room.

Once more in the street, he endeavoured to recal his thoughts, for all of the late interview with Lord Edward appeared a dreadful dream, and he doubted whether he had really been beside him-for the curious chance which had enabled him to witness Fitzstephen's arrest was unaccountable to him, and yet easily explained. The Police were assisted by a number of soldiers in coloured clothes, and the party, to prevent observation, proceeded to the house in hackney-coaches; hence O'Hara's appearance among them was unnoticed-the one supposing him to be a military associate in disguise, and the other considering him attached to the civil power whom they accompanied.

CHAPTER VI.

Thus to love, and thus to live,
Thus to take, and thus to give,
Thus to laugh, and thus to sing,
Thus to mount on pleasure's wing,
Thus to sport, and thus to speed,
Thus to flourish, nourish, feed,

Thus to spend, and thus to spare,
Is to bid a fig for care!

Panedone, 1621.

He

HENRY found himself in Dame-street, undecided as to what course he should pursue. thought of his father's lawyer, and he determined to be advised by him. On reaching his house, he was informed by the clerk, that Mr. Chargewell, after waiting for him till the last moment, had started for Newbridge, to conduct Major O'Hara's defence, and confirmed Fitzsteven's intelligence, that "the trial was to come on to-morrow." Henry hurried from

VOL. II.

I

his lawyer's, intending to start for the north without a moment's delay, and as the mail had long before left Dublin, he was hastening to get post-horses for his journey, when he found himself suddenly encircled by a number of men, and declared to be a prisoner. A furious attempt he made to extricate himself was unavailing, for after shaking off two or three of the party, he was secured by the remainder, who were ordered by a man who appeared to direct their movements, to convey him to the nearest watch-house. The leader immediately retired, but although he had carefully concealed his features, and had issued his commands in a disguised voice, Henry found no difficulty in recognising, in his captor, his former acquaintance, Colonel Durton.

Guarded stoutly by the constable and half a score of able watchmen, the prisoner proceeded to his destination in the centre of the possé. The theatre had just closed, and the returning parties discussed the merits of the play and of the performers, as they hastened to their homes. The last group had passed, when from the next street a number of powerful voices chaunted