waters
of that famous spring may prove beneficial to her. If the Banshee, then,
is anxious to fulfil its mission it must follow us. They say it always
pays three visits, but as yet it has paid us only one."

Mrs. Lindsay had now recovered from her slight indisposition, and
resolved to pay the last formal visit to the Goodwins,--a visit which
was to close all future intercourse between the families; and our
readers are not ignorant of her motives for this, nor how completely and
willingly she was the agent of her son Harry's designs. She went in all
her pomp, dressed in satins and brocades, and attended by Barney Casey
in full livery. Her own old family carriage had been swept of its dust
and cobwebs, and put into requisition on this important occasion. At
length they reached Beech Grove, and knocked at the door, which was
opened by our old Mend, Tom Kennedy.

"My good man," she asked, "are the family at home?"

"No, ma'am."

"What! not at home, and Miss Goodwin so ill?--dying, I am told. Perhaps,
in consequence of her health, they do not wish to see strangers. Go and
say that Mrs. Lindsay, of Rathnllan House, is here."

"Ma'am, they are not at home; they have left Beech Grove for some time."

"Left Beech Grove!" she exclaimed; "and pray where are they gone to? I
thought Miss Goodwin was not able to be removed."

"It was do or die with her," replied Tom. "The doctor said there was but
one last chance--change of air, and absence from dangerous neighbors."

"But you did not tell me where they are gone to."

"I did not, ma'am, and for the best reason in life--because I don't
know."

"You don't know! Why, is it possible they made a secret of such a
matter?"

"Quite possible, ma'am, and to the back o' that they swore every one of
us upon the seven gospels never to tell any individual, man or woman,
where they went to."

"But did they not tell yourselves?"

"Devil a syllable, ma'am."

"And why, then, did they swear you to secrecy?"

"Why, of course, ma'am, to make us keep the secret."

"But why swear you, I ask again, to keep a secret which you did not
know?"

"Why, ma'am, because they knew that in that case there was little danger
of our committin' parjury; and because every saicret which one does not
know is sure to be kept."

She looked keenly at him, and added, "I'm inclined to think, sirrah,
that you are impertinent."

"Very likely, ma'am," replied Tom, with great gravity. "I've a strong
notion