t I'd be wanted for somethin' else
afore mornin'."

"Oh, my God!" cried Ethel; "they're going to kill him, then!"

"Kill him! Kill who? Sure an' it's not killin' they want me for. It's
the other--it's marryin'."

"Marrying?" cried Ethel. "Poor, darling Minnie! Oh, you can not--you
will not marry them?"

"Sure an' I don't know but it's the best thing I can do--as things
are," said the priest.

"Oh, what shall I do! what shall I do!" moaned Ethel.

"Well, ye've got to bear up, so ye have. There's throubles for all of
us, an' lots av thim too; an' more'n some av us can bear."

Ethel sat in the darkest and bitterest grief for some time, a prey to
thoughts and fears that were perfect agony to her.

At last a thought came to her which made her start, and look up, and
cast at the priest a look full of wonder and entreaty. The priest
watched her with the deepest sympathy visible on his face.

"We must save them!" she cried.

"Sure an' it's me that made up me moind to that same," said the
priest, "only I didn't want to rise yer hopes."

"_We_ must save them," said Ethel, with strong emphasis.

"_We?_ What can you do?"

Ethel got up, walked to the church door, looked out, came back, looked
anxiously all around, and then, resuming her seat, she drew close to
the priest, and began to whisper, long and anxiously.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE AVENGER ON THE TRACK.

When Dacres had sprung aside into the woods in the moment of his
fierce rush upon Girasole, he had been animated by a sudden thought
that escape for himself was possible, and that it would be more
serviceable to his friends. Thus, then, he had bounded into the woods,
and with swift steps he forced his way among the trees deeper and
deeper into the forest. Some of the brigands had given chase, but
without effect. Dacres's superior strength and agility gave him the
advantage, and his love of life was a greater stimulus than their
thirst for vengeance. In addition to this the trees gave every
assistance toward the escape of a fugitive, while they threw every
impediment in the way of a pursuer. The consequence was, therefore,
that Dacres soon put a great distance between himself and his
pursuers, and, what is more, he ran in such a circuitous route that
they soon lost all idea of their own locality, and had not the
faintest idea where he had gone. In this respect, however, Dacres
himself was not one whit wiser than they, for he soon found himself
completel