han ever my father did; and now the old fellow, when left to himself,
is nearly helpless in every sense. He knows he has not Jemmy, and he can
bear nobody else near him or about him."

"I will see him, then, before I lave the place; an' now, Masther
Richard, you know what steps you ought to take with regard to _Gra Gal_
Sullivan. As she is willin' herself, of course there is but one way of
it."

"Of course I am aware of that," said Dick; "but still I feel that it's
devilish queer she should change so soon from Dalton to me."

"That's bekaise you know nothing about women," replied the Prophet.
"Why, Masther Richard, I tell you that a weathercock is constancy itself
compared with them. The notion of you an' your wealth, an' grandeur, an'
the great state you're to keep her in--all turned her brain; an' as a
proof of it, there you have a lock of her beautiful hair that she gave
me with her own hands. If that won't satisfy you it's hard to say what
can; but indeed I think you ought to know by this time o' day how far
a handsome face goes with them. Give the divil himself but that, and
they'll take his horns, hooves, and tail into the bargain--ay, will
they."

This observation was accompanied by a grin so sneering and bitter, that
his companion, on looking at him, knew not how to account for it, unless
by supposing that he must during the course of his life have sustained
some serious or irreparable injury at their hands.

"You appear not to like the women, Donnel; how is that?"

"Like them!" he replied, and as he spoke his face, which had been, a
little before, ghastly with horror, now became black and venomous; "ha!
ha! how is that, you say? oh, no matther now; they're angels; angels of
perdition; their truth is treachery, an' their--but no matther. I'll
now go in an' spake to your father on this business; but I forgot to
say that I must see _Gra Gal_ soon, to let her know our plans; so do you
make your mind aisy, and lave the management of the whole thing in my
hands."

CHAPTEE XIV. -- A Middleman Magistrate of the Old School, and his Clerk.

Dick-o'-the-Grange--whose name was Henderson--at least such is the name
we choose to give him--held his office, as many Irish magistrates
have done before him, in his own parlor; that is to say, he sat in an
arm-chair at one of the windows, which was thrown open for him, while
those who came to seek justice, or, as they termed it, law, at his
hands, were compelled to