through eaves-dropping, and insinuating its venom in moments of
unguarded freedom. His footman too--but why go on? His daughter alone
rejected the notion with indignation; but in her eager vindication of
the poor fellow's honour, her excitement militated against success--for
age thus ever pronounces upon youth, and too readily confounds a
high-spirited denunciation of wrong, with a mistaken, ill-directed
enthusiasm. He listened, it is true, to all she said of Terry's
devotedness and courage--of his artless, simple nature--of his
single-minded, gentle character; but by a fatal tendency, too frequent
as we advance in years, the scales of doubt ever lean against, and
not to the side favourable to human nature, and as he shook his head
mournfully, he said--

"I wish I did not suspect him."

"Send for him at least," said his daughter, as with an effort she
restrained the emotion that agitated her; "speak to him yourself."

"To what end, my child, if he really is innocent?"

"Oh! yes, indeed--indeed he is," she exclaimed, as the tears at length
fell fast upon heir cheek.

"Well then, be it so," said Sir Marmaduke, as he rung the bell, and
ordered Terry to be sent for.

[Illustration: 119]

While Miss Travers sat with her head buried in her hands, her father
paced slowly up and down the room; and so absorbed was he in his
thoughts, that he had not noticed Terry, who had meanwhile entered the
room, and now stood respectfully beside, the door. When the old man's
eyes did fall on him, he started back, with horror and astonishment.
The poor fellow's clothes were actually reduced to a mass of burned
rags--one sleeve was completely gone, and, there, could be seen his
bare arm scorched and blackened by the fire--a bandage of coarse linen
wrapping the hand and fingers--a deep cut marked his brow--and his hair
was still matted and clotted with the blood--awhile his face was of the
colour of death itself.

"Can you doubt him now, father," whispered the young girl, as she gazed
on the poor fellow, whose wandering eyes roamed over the ornaments of
the chamber, in total unconsciousness of himself and his sufferings.

"Well, Terry," said Sir Marmaduke after a pause, "what account do you
give of last night's business?"

"That's a picture of Keim-an-Eigh," said Terry, as he fixed his large
eyes, open to their widest extent, on a framed drawing on the wall.
"There's the Eagle's Cliff, and that's Murrow Waterfall--and there's
the