a's parentage.
Nay, but is that likely--if, as you suppose, Melchior is Sir Henry de
Clare--if, as you suppose, it is he who is now trying to find out and
carry off Fleta--is it probable that you will gain any information from
him? I have no idea that Fleta is the little girl said to have died,
who was the child of his elder brother. Why so? What interest could
Melchior have in stealing his own niece? That I cannot tell. Why did
Nattee give me the necklace? I cannot tell; she would hardly betray her
husband. At all events, there is a mystery, and it can only be
unravelled by being pulled at; and I may learn something by meeting
Melchior, whereas I shall learn nothing by remaining quiet." This last
idea satisfied me; and for many hours I remained in a train of deep
thought, only checked by paying for the horses at the end of every
stage.

It was now past twelve o'clock, when I found that it was necessary to
change the chaise at every post. The country also, as well as the
roads, had changed much for the worse. Cultivation was not so great,
the roads were mountainous, and civilisation generally disappeared. It
was nearly dark when I arrived at the last post, from whence I was to
take horses to Mount Castle. As usual, the chaise also was to be
changed; and I could not help observing that each change was from bad to
worse. Rope harness was used, and the vehicles themselves were of the
most crazy condition. Still I had travelled very fairly; for an Irish
postilion knows how to make an Irish horse go very fair pace. I
descended from the chaise, and ordered another out immediately. To this
there was no reply, except, "Wait, your honour; step in a moment, and
rest from your fatigue a little." Presuming this was merely to give
them time to get ready, I walked into the room of the inn, which indeed
was very little better than a hovel, and sat down by the turf fire in
company with some others, whom I could hardly distinguish for smoke. I
paid the chaise and postilion, and soon afterwards heard it drive off,
on its way back. After a few minutes I inquired if the chaise was
getting ready.

"Is it the chaise your honour means?" said the landlady.

"Yes," replied I; "a chaise on to Mount Castle."

"Then I am sorry that your honour must wait a little for our chaise, and
the only one which we have, is gone to the castle, and won't be back
till long after the moon is up. What will your honour please to take?"

"