re a queen, would you not have to think of those who
depended on you for support and protection? And how should I forget my poor
heifers and my calves--calves of very tender years some of them--and all
with as great desire to fatten themselves as any of us have to do what will
as probably lead to our destruction?'

'You're not going to have the rain, anyhow,' said Kearney; 'and you'll not
be sorry, Nina, for you wanted a fine day to finish your sketch of Croghan
Castle.'

'Oh! by the way, has old Bob recovered from his lameness yet, to be fit to
be driven?'

'Ask Kitty there; she can tell you, perhaps.'

'Well, I don't think I'd harness him yet. The smith has pinched him in the
off fore-foot, and he goes tender still.'

'So do I when I go afoot, for I hate it,' cried Nina; 'and I want a day in
the open air, and I want to finish my old Castle of Croghan--and last of
all,' whispered she in Kate's ear, 'I want to show my distinguished friend
Mr. Walpole that the prospect of a visit from him does not induce me to
keep the house. So that, from all the wants put together, I shall take an
early breakfast, and start to-morrow for Cruhan--is not that the name of
the little village in the bog?'

'That's Miss Betty's own townland--though I don't know she's much the
richer of her tenants,' said Kearney, laughing. 'The oldest inhabitants
never remember a rent-day.'

'What a happy set of people!'

'Just the reverse. You never saw misery till you saw them. There is not a
cabin fit for a human being, nor is there one creature in the place with
enough rags to cover him.'

'They were very civil as I drove through. I remember how a little basket
had fallen out, and a girl followed me ten miles of the road to restore
it,' said Nina.

'That they would; and if it were a purse of gold they 'd have done the
same,' cried Kate.

'Won't you say that they'd shoot you for half a crown, though?' said
Kearney, 'and that the worst "Whiteboys" of Ireland come out of the same
village?'

'I do like a people so unlike all the rest of the world,' cried Nina;
'whose motives none can guess at, none forecast. I'll go there to-morrow.'

These words were said as Daniel had just re-entered the room, and he
stopped and asked, 'Where to?'

'To a Whiteboy village called Cruhan, some ten miles off, close to an old
castle I have been sketching.'

'Do you mean to go there to-morrow?' asked he, half-carelessly; but not
waiting for her answer, and as