to go
beyond it?"

In the meantime, very important matters were proceeding, which bore
strongly upon Woodward's destiny. Greatrakes had collected--aided,
of course, by Barney Casey, who was the principal, but not the sole,
evidence against him--such a series of facts, as, he felt, justified him
in receiving informations against him.

At this crisis a discovery was made in connection with the Haunted
House, which was privately, through Casey, communicated to Greatrakes,
who called a meeting of the neighboring magistrates upon it. This he
did by writing to them privately to meet him on a particular day at his
little inn in Rathfillan. For obvious reasons, and out of consideration
to his feelings, Mr. Lindsay's name was omitted. At all events the night
preceding the day of Woodward's marriage with Miss Riddle had arrived,
but two circumstances occurred on that evening and on that night which
not only frustrated all his designs upon Miss Riddle, or rather upon her
uncle's property, but--however, we shall not anticipate.

It was late in the evening when Miss Riddle was told by a servant that a
young man, handsome and of fine proportions, wished to see her for a few
minutes.

"Not that I would recommend you to see him," said the serving-woman who
delivered the message. "He is, to be sure, very handsome; but, then, he
is one of those wild people, and armed with a great mid-dogue or dagger,
and God knows what his object may be--maybe to take your life. As sure
as I live he is a tory."

"That may be," replied Miss Riddle; "but I know, by your description of
him, that he is the individual to whose generous spirit I and my dear
uncle owe our lives: let him be shown in at once to the front parlor."

In a few minutes she entered, and found Shawn before her.

"O Shawn!" said she, "I am glad to see you. My uncle is using all his
interest to get you a pardon--that is, provided you are willing to
abandon the wild life to which you have taken."

"I am willing to abandon it," he replied; "but I have one task to
perform before I leave it. You have heard of the toir, or tory-hunt,
which was made after me and others; but chiefly after me, for I was the
object they wanted to shoot down, or rather that he, the villain, wanted
to murder under the authority of those cruel laws that make us tories."

"Who do you mean by he?" asked Miss Riddle.

"I mean Harry Woodward," he replied. "He hunted me, disguised by a black
mask."

"But ar