been carried
away by force, and imprisoned for two entire years, should on this
spot be restored to him; that he had but to come, with twelve of his
retainers, unarmed, save with their swords, and that here, where we now
stand, she should once more become his own. The hour was sunset, and he
waited, with anxious impatience, beneath that tall cliff yonder, where
you can see the deep cleft. Strange enough, they have added a legend to
the true story, as if their wrongs could derive any force from fiction!
and they tell you still, that the great rock was never split until that
night. Their name for it, in Irish, is 'the rent,' or 'the ruptured
pledge.' Do I weary you with these old tales?"

"No, no; go on, I entreat you. I cannot say how the scene; increases its
fascinations, from connection with your story."

"He stood yonder, where the black shadow now crosses the road, and
having dismounted, he gave his horse to one of his attendants, and
walked, with an anxious heart, up and down, waiting for their approach.

"There was less sympathy among his followers for their chieftain's
sorrow than might be expected; for she was not a native born, but the
daughter of an English earl. He, perhaps, loved her the more--her very
friendlessness was another tie between them."

"Says the legend so, or is this a mere suspicion on your part?"
whispered Travers softly.

"I scarcely know," continued Kate, with an accent less assured than
before. "I believe I tell you the tale as I have heard it; but why may
she not have been his own in every sentiment and thought--why not have
imbibed the right, from him she learned to love?" The last words were
scarcely uttered, when, with a sudden exclamation, less of fear than
astonishment, Kate grasped Travers' arm, and exclaimed--"Did you see
that!"

"I thought some dark object moved by the road side."

"I saw a man pass, as if from behind us, and gain the thicket yonder: he
was alone, however."

"And I am armed," said Travers, coolly.

"And if you were not," replied she, proudly, "an O'Donoghue has nothing
to fear in the valley of Glenflesk. Let us join my uncle, however, for
I see he has left us some distance behind him;" and while they hastened
forward, she resumed her story with the same unconcern as before the
interruption.

Travers listened eagerly--less, it is true, in sympathy with the story,
than in delight at the impassioned eloquence of her who related it.
"Such," said she, as the