d over
again, till my brain is almost turned wid it, and I rise up in the
morning all in a cold perspoiration."

"Dear old Aileen," the girl says tenderly, "poor Rooney's awful death
has upset you? It has upset us all for that matter! And then it must be
so dreadful for you alone on that great bleak bog."

"Miss Honor, do ye mind my drame?"

"Every word of it, Aileen."

"Ye mind how I dramed that the boys dug the grave out on the moss, and
hid it out of sight wid green branches!"

"I do surely."

"Well, Miss Honor, ever and always in my drame that grave is there
still. I watch the boys dig it deep in the black earth, and cover the
gaping mouth of it; and me shaking and trembling all the time. But
these past three nights--the saints be above us!--there's been another
grave, alanna."

"Another grave!" The girl laughs. "Why, that is getting too dreadful!"
She plucks a spray of roses from the open window behind her, as she
sits on the great oak dresser, and shreds the delicate red petals all
over the lap of her gown.

"Listen to me, Miss Honor, and cease your funning! This is no time to
laugh and jest at a warning that comes from the saints themselves! That
the masther is in danger of his life I know as well as if I saw the
very bullet that was to shoot him. The grave was dug deep and
broad--and deep and broad it would need to be, save us!--out there on
yer own lawn, just forenent the drawing-room windies!"

She has left her ironing-table and come close up to the girl, her
face--a delicate-featured face, peasant as she is--rigid with intense
feeling, her eyes shining, her upraised hand tremulous.

"Oh, Miss Honor darlint, shure he'd follow you to the ends of the
world! Take him away from this till the bad feeling has time to cool
down. Things will right themselves, never fear--the old times will come
round again; but, if the masther stays on at Donaghmore, he'll never
live to enjoy them."

"But if he will not go away?" says Honor, a tone of anxiety in her
voice. "You know how obstinate he is; and that letter from Dublin about
landlords running away from their posts has upset him dreadfully. Oh,
no, Aileen, he'll never leave Donaghmore!"

"Then the saints purtect him!" Aileen answers tremulously. "But as sure
as my name is Aileen Walsh harm will come of it!"

CHAPTER III.

"As sure as my name is Aileen Walsh harm will come of it!"

The words haunt Honor. They ring in her ears night and day, and spoil