rother. He gave him two books, and some paper, and a bundle--I don't
know what was in it--and then they struck off towards Kenmare Bay, by a
road very few know in these parts."

All these particulars surprised and interested Herbert not a
little;--for although far from implicitly believing the correctness
of Terry's tidings, as to the vessel being a French one, yet the event
seemed not insignificant as showing that Mark had friends, who were
aware of his present place of concealment. Without wasting further time,
however, he bade Terry good-bye, and started along the path down the
glen.

Following Terry's directions, Herbert found the path, which, in
many places was concealed by loose furze bushes, evidently to prevent
detection by strangers, and at last, having gained the ridge of the
mountain, perceived the little shealing at a distance of some hundred
feet beneath him. It was merely a few young trees, covered over with
loose sods, which, abutting against the slope of the hill, opened
towards the sea, from whence the view extended along thirty miles of
coast on either hand.

At any other moment, the glorious landscape before him would have
engrossed Herbert's entire attention. The calm sea, over which night was
slowly stealing--the jutting promontories of rock, over whose sides the
white foam was splashing--the tall dark cliffs, pierced by many a' cave,
through which the sea roared like thunder--all these caught his thoughts
but for a second, and already with bounding steps he hurried down the
steep, where the next moment a scene revealed itself, of far deeper
interest to his heart.

Through the roof of the shealing, from which, in many places, the dry
sods had fallen, he discovered his brother, stretched upon the earthen
floor of the hut, intently gazing on a large map, which lay widespread
before him. The figure was indeed Mark's. The massive head, on either
side of which, in flowing waves, the long and locky hair descended,
there was no mistaking. But the costume was one Herbert saw for the
first time. It was a simple uniform of blue and white, with a single
silver epaulette, and a sword, hilted with the same metal. The shako was
of dark fur, and ornamented with a large bouquet of tri-colored ribbons,
whose gay and flaunting colours streamed with a strange contrast along
the dark earthen floor. Amid all his terror for what these emblems
might portend, his heart bounded with pride at the martial and handsome
fi