the aged countess, seated in their chairs of state, by the fair Ellinor Desmond and the two noble youths, Con and Ulick O'Brien, beside whom stood a vacant chair for the absent Florence, was spread with crimson velvet, and laid with a service of massive silver. The salt-cellar, a rare and splendid piece of plate, and all the drinking-cups and vessels being either of pure gold, or so richly gilded as not readily to be distinguished from it.

The feast was sumptuous and delicate, according to the notions of that day, although it was composed of dainties far too solid and subtantial to meet our ideas of a supper. There were huge tureens steaming with strong venison soup, vast barons of beef, haunches and chines of the fallow deer, pasties of red deer venison, looking like fortalices of pastry, wild fowl, roebucks and cycnets roasted whole; and to complete the table, the latest remnant of the feudal ages, a peacock, with his train replaced in all its glory; its crest and claws superbly gilded, occupying the post of honor.

And all this splendid show of edibles was accompanied by a display of potables in no degree less masculine and potent.— Tankards of ale and mead, flagons of Malvoisie and Bourdeaux wines, spiced wassail bowls of hippocras and pigment, and great horns of the national beverage, the fiery usquebaugh, circulated, unchecked and unreproved by the presence of the ladies.

Still, in spite of the good cheer, and the hospitable efforts of O'Brien, the mirth of the meeting was destroyed. A cloud hung over the spirits of all—as well of those who were conscious of the cause of the strange events of that night, as of those who had been merely the ignorant spectators of the scene; nor was the spirit or harmonious feeling of the company at all increased by the entrance, so soon as the meats were removed, and the ladies had withdrawn, of the old seneschal, completely armed from gorget to spur, in an antique suit of plate armor, bearing the keys of the three different gate-houses upon a salver, which he deposited on the board at his lord's right hand; after which

he stood with his right hand resting upon the hilt of his great war-sword, as if awaiting orders.

Had a bomb-shell fallen unexpected into the midst of that fair company, it could hardly have created greater confusion or astonishment than did that singular and warlike apparition at a moment when, save two or three of the immediate kinsmen of the earl, no one anticipated aught of danger, or had conceived the possibility of any interruption of the evening's revel.

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'Ha! Torlogh," said the O'Brien, calmly," the wards are all made sure, then?"

"As sure as iron bolts and stone walls can make them, noble earl," replied the old man quietly. "I locked the gates with mine own hand, and saw each portcullis lowered. Trusty men are on the watch in all the towers, and for this night all is safe, I can assure you."

"I take your assurance, Torlogh," said the earl," as if I myself had seen it done. It remains, however, to post some one on the eagle tower, who will not close his eyes in sleep, that he watch the beacon upon Claude-boy, and rouse the castle if it blaze ere daybreak."

"That post is mine, my lord," the old man answered in a calm, low voice, but with an air of fixed determination. "Mine now as it was in the days of yore, under the great earl, your father."

"You do not spare yourself, old Torlogh. There be younger men enow who may watch, while you take the rest that is needful to your years."

"The cause, the cause, lord earl, will spare none of its upholders; and if the leaders spare themselves, how shall the kernes and vassals do their duty?"

"Well said! well said! Such is the true spirit. Our God and our king cannot spare us, and Heaven's malison on him!" exclaimed O'Brien, starting to his feet, "who seeks to spare himself, whether for fear or favor!"

"Heaven's malison upon him!” shouted a hundred voices; for as the earl arose, each gentleman down the long board sprang to his feet simultaneously, perceiving now, for the first time, that the hour for action had arrived; and as they arose, their rapiers flashed from their sheaths in the bright candle-light, and they re-echoed, as a single man, the high words of their chieftain; while kindling at the fire which blazed in the bosoms of their nobles, the squires and servitors caught up the word and gave it stirring utterance, until the tapestries trembled, and the torches winked and quivered in the commotion of the atmosphere caused by that sudden clamor.

From the hall through the vestibule it passed, and into the court-yard, and to the outer walls, the bastion, the dungeonkeep, until the whole of the old fortalice was wakened with its thousand echoes into loud and unexpected life.

A proud eye did the young earl cast around him, over that high and gallant company, whose every heart, as he perceived at a single glance, panted responsive to his own. He unhooked his long broadsword from his belt, scabbard and all, and unsheathing the weapon with a slow, but steady gesture, cast the sheath over his shoulder high into the air.

Not a breath was drawn, not a plume fluttered, not a cloak rustled-so deep was the anxious silence of that moment; the empty sheath fell with a ringing rattle upon the oaken floor; and as the echoes sank, the clear voice of O'Brien filled the apartment as if with a real presence-so clear, so full, so puissant was its volume.

"You have done well!" he said. "Gentlemen, fellow-soldiers, friends! you have done well to unsheath the mortal sword. You had done better to cast away the scabbard likewise ; for never must those swords go up again until the cause for which we fight is conquered; the cause of our God, our country, and our king; and if the news which I have heard this day prove true, as well I fear it will, every sword, every arm, every heart in Ireland will be right dearly needed. Ormond is routed,

friends, by the base roundhead Jones; the siege of Dublin is already raised, the arch fiend Cromwell is himself upon the seas-perhaps upon the shores of Ireland already. To arms, then, every manly hand! To arms, every loyal heart! To arms, one and all, even of who are neither brave nor loyal, if he would not be seized in his own house cowardly, and butchered like a mere sheep in the shambles. Before the sun shall arise in the east, the truth, the whole truth, shall be known; and if it be as I deem it is, his first rays shall see the O'Brien's banner on the breeze, the O'Brien's foot in the stirrup, the O'Brien's weapon in his hand. Who will not side with the O'Brien ?"

Had the call been to the banquet or the dance, to the tourney or the chase, some might have lagged reluctant-some might have turned aside, indolent or heedless.

It was to the battle!-to the battle, against puritan hypocrisy -against democratical oppression-against fanatical intolerance; and every man sought to be foremost—the very boysthe pages, scarcely children in their years, stood forth at once, eager to be the champions of the cause-the noblest cause for which the sword was ever drawn-for that cause was divine, was threefold-religion, patriotism, loyalty; and who should dare oppose them?

Again, from battlement to dungeon, the castle rang with the exulting cheers of the true-born, the loyal Irish cavaliers; and in the courts without, the trumpeters struck up unbidden; and kettle-drum and bugle blast pealed far and wide through the summer night, sending abroad the stirring strains of the Island melody, "Erin Mavourneen, Erin go bragh," mixed with the wild hurrah and the high name of England's loved and lawful king.

Long, long may those notes sound together-and shame on him who would divide them—Ireland for ever, and God save the king!

CHAPTER VII.

"The sentinel on Whitehall gate
Looked forth into the night,

And saw o'erhanging Richmond Hill
The streak of blood-red light.

Then bugle's note and cannon's roar

The death-like silence broke."

MACAULAY.

It was an hour past midnight, and the castle, with all its inmates, had, as it seemed, long been steeped in silence and in slumber. Not a sound had been heard for several hours but the clank of the sentinels passing at intervals and repassing over the echoing pavements. But in a lofty window near the top of the loftiest turrets a lamp was burning clearly and steadily, though now and then some large dark body would pass between it and the casement, intercepting its lustrous rays for a moment, and then leaving them vivid and uninterrupted as before.

There was, then, one watcher, at least, within those ancient walls other than the mere guards of the night.

The window, whence that light streamed so far into the night, should perhaps rather have been called a loop, so small and narrow were its dimensions, although it was provided with diamond-shaped panes of glass, set in a heavy leaden frame; but it belonged to a neat and pleasant antechamber, though of small dimensions, opening by one door upon the winding stone staircase, and by the other into a large and handsome apartment, which had no other visible entrance than through that antechamber.

One person was alone the tenant of that antechamber, and that one was Florence Desmond.

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A bright wood fire was blazing cheerfully on the hearth, while on the circular table before it stood a large lamp with three burners, towering above several well-filled flagons and