f
she do, 'twill be to buy and sell with, and further her own greedy
plans. I know my Lady; and I know how it will fare with my sweet maid.
I tell thee, Master Humphrey, Turlogh, brave lad as he was, must now do
as his grand Lady bids, and 'twere better far the maiden had stayed in
her nunnery school."

"Why, Judy," said I, "you forget he sent to England for her; and that
now, since this voyage began, she has found a protector who will ease
both the lord and lady of Castleroe of her charge."

She laughed.

"Little you know, master 'prentice. But there comes the dawn."

Sure enough, in the east, the grey crept up the sky; and at the same
time the banks on either side of us rose steeply, while the roar of a
cataract ahead warned us that our journey's end was come.

We waited yet another hour, moored under the bank till the sun lifted
his forehead above the hill. Then the note of a bugle close at hand
startled us, and Ludar bade us disembark.

Castleroe was a house perched strongly on the western bank of the river,
with a moat round, and a drawbridge separating the outer courtyard from
the house itself.

As we approached we were loudly challenged by a sentry who called to us
in broad English.

"Who goes there? Halt! or by my life you shall have a taste of my
musket if you advance further."

My heart leapt to my mouth. 'Twas not at hearing the English speech
once more, but because the fellow's voice itself was familiar to me.
And when a moment later its owner came in view, I saw the man I had met
once on the road to Oxford, the same Tom Price who had gone near hanging
me for a Jesuit, and afterwards had tempted me to take service in the
troop of his master, Captain Merriman, for these Irish wars.

Was it much wonder I gasped aloud, as I saw him?

"Tell Turlogh Luinech O'Neill," said Ludar, advancing, "that his
daughter is come from England, with her ancient nurse. And take us to
him, that we may deliver our charge safely into his hands."

"Ludar," cried I, taking him by the arm. "Halt, for Heaven's sake!
This is one of Captain Merriman's men!"

The soldier looked round as I spoke, and recognised me in a trice.

"Hillo!" cried he; "what have we here? My little Jesuit, Lord Mayor of
London, as I'm a sinner! And in what brave company! Sure, they told me
my lady expected visitors; and here he is with his sweetheart, and old
mother, and private chaplain. Woe's me, the flag is not aloft! So,
lad, tho