g, "is that insane creature below
still, a poor woman whose husband broke his neck riding a race for me on
the Curragh, and she thinks that I stand to her in that capacity?"

"Oh, yes; she says," added the man who brought the letter, "that this
gentleman's name is not Norton, but Bryan--Barney Bryan, I think--and
that he is her husband, exactly as the gentleman says."

"Just so, my lord," said Tom, smiling; "poor thing! what a melancholy
delusion."

"I was present at the accident, Mr. Norton," added Morty, boldly, "and
remember the circumstance, in throth, very well. Didn't the poor woman
lose her senses by it?"

"Yes," replied Tom, "I have just mentioned the circumstance to his
lordship."

"And--beg pardon, Mr. Norton--doesn't she take you for her husband from
that day to this?"

"Yes, so I have said."

"Oh, God help her, poor thing! Isn't she to be pitied?" added Morty,
with a dry roguish glance at Mr. Norton; "throth, she has a hard fate of
it. Howaniver, she is gone. I got her off, an' now the place is I clear
of the unfortunate creature. The lord look to her!"

The servants then withdrew, and Norton made his parting bow to Lord
Cullamore, whom we now leave to his meditations on the subject of this
interview.

CHAPTER XXI. A Spy Rewarded

--Sir Thomas Gourlay Charged Home by the Stranger with the Removal and
Disappearance of his Brother's Son.

We left the Black Baronet in a frame of mind by no means to be envied by
our readers. The disappearance of his daughter and her maid had stunned
and so completely prostrated him, that he had not sufficient energy even
for a burst of his usual dark and overbearing resentment. In this state
of mind, however, he was better able to reflect upon the distressing
occurrence that had happened. He bethought him of Lucy's delicacy,
of her sense of honor, her uniform propriety of conduct, her singular
self-respect, and after all, of the complacent spirit of obedience with
which, in everything but her contemplated union with Lord Dunroe, she
had, during her whole life, and under the most trying circumstances,
accommodated herself to his wishes. He then reflected upon the fact of
her maid having accompanied her, and concluded, very naturally, that
if she had resolved to elope with this hateful stranger, she would have
done so in pursuance of the precedent set by most young ladies who take
such steps--that is, unaccompanied by any one but her lover. From this
view of