reasons now make him
very anxious that she should return to him; and, indeed, it will be for
her advantage, as she will in all probability be his heir, for he has
satisfactorily proved that she is a near relative."

"Grant all that, Melchior; but why did not Sir Henry de Clare write to
me on the subject, and state his wishes, and his right to demand his
relative? and why does he treat me in this way? Another question--how
is it that he has recognised me to be the party who has charge of the
little girl? Answer me those questions, Melchior, and then I may talk
over the matter."

"I will answer the last question first. He knew your name from me, and
it so happened, that a friend of his met you in the coach as you were
coming to Ireland: the same person also saw you at the post-house, and
gave information. Sir Henry, who is a violent man, and here has almost
regal sway, determined to detain you till you surrendered up the child.
You recollect, that you refused to tell his agent, the person whose
address I gave you, where she was to be found, and, vexed at this, he
has taken the law into his own hands."

"For which he shall smart, one of these days," replied I, "if there is
law in this country."

"There is a law in England, but very little, and none that will harm Sir
Henry in this part of the country. No officer would venture within five
miles of the castle, I can assure you; for he knows very well that it
would cost him his life; and Sir Henry never quits it from one year's
end to the other. You are in his power, and all that he requires is
information where the child may be found, and an order for her being
delivered to him. You cannot object to this, as he is her nearest
relative. If you comply, I do not doubt but Sir Henry will make you
full amends for this harsh treatment, and prove a sincere friend ever
afterwards."

"It requires consideration," replied I; "at present, I am too much hurt
to talk."

"I was afraid so," replied Melchior; "that was one reason why I obtained
leave to speak to you. Wait a moment."

Melchior then put the candle down on the ground, went out, and turned
the key. I found, on looking round, that I was right in my conjectures.
I was in a cellar, which, apparently, had long been in disuse.
Melchior soon returned, followed by an old crone, who carried a basket
and a can of water. She washed the blood off my head, put some salve
upon the wounds, and bound them up. She then went