le mistress when we
were together.

I was not long in hearing, among other things, the news of what had
happened at Knockowen since I left. When my overturned boat had drifted
ashore, they all set me down as dead, some with regret, some with
indifference, some with relief.

Among the latter, I guessed, was his honour, who never took kindly to
me, and bestowed more dislike on me, I always thought, than my
importance deserved. However, my absence did not make much difference.

"It was dreadful after you had gone," said my little mistress. "We
never knew what would happen next. Father could not keep friends with
both sides, and yet he durst not break with either. The house was fired
into from time to time by the Leaguers; and yet he continued to obey
their biddings and wink at all the smuggling of arms and secret drilling
that went on, which he, as a magistrate, ought to have stopped. Oh
dear, it was hard to know what to wish! And one day he was summoned by
some other magistrates to lead a party to capture the crew of a
smuggling ship. He sent Martin off secretly to give them warning; but
somehow Martin failed to deliver his message in time, and the smugglers
were caught. Then he was in dread lest they should betray him, and used
all his efforts to let them escape. Then, when one night they broke
bonds, he led a hue and cry after them for appearance' sake, but, of
course, in a wrong direction, and in consideration of all this he was
let alone by the League. Mr Cazin then came over and stayed at
Knockowen a week, collecting all the arms he could get, and making
himself polite to mother and me. My father, who desired to be rid of us
that he might follow his own plots, saw a way, at last, of getting out
of his difficulty, and handed the Frenchman over a large number of guns
which had been intended for the Donegal men, on condition he would see
us safe to Paris."

"And where is his honour, meanwhile?" I asked.

"I can't say, Barry. Not, I think, at Knockowen. He has written us not
a line, though we have written several times to him. I sometimes wish
we were safe back at home," said she with a sigh.

Well might she wish it, for that winter Paris was a hell upon earth!

For a time I succeeded in keeping away the shadow of "the terror" from
that little top storey in the Quai Necker. The ladies knew that blood
was being shed, that liberty was being extinguished, that holy religion
was being spurned, in the