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"Well, well," replied Caterine, "I never thought he was such a fool as all that comes to. Devil's cure to him, if she laves it to some one else! that's my compassion for him." "Well, but, Caterine, what's the news? When will the sky fall, you that knows so much about futurity?" "The news is anything but good, Barney.
"O!" she exclaimed, in her woful solitude and utter desolation, "if I only had the forgiveness of my father and mother I could die happy; but now I feel that death is upon me, and I must die alone." A footstep was heard, and it relieved her. "Oh! this is Caterine," she said, "with the child." The door opened, and the young tory, Shawn-na-Middogue, entered.
"Well, Shawn, if she has desalted you, I know one that loves you better than ever she did, and that would never desart you, as Grace Davoren has done." "Ah, Caterine," replied the outlaw, sorrowfully, "I am past that now; my heart is broke I could never love another. What proof of truth or affection could any other woman give me after the treachery of her who once said she loved me so well?
"I am an outlaw," replied the stern young tory; "but I will never kiss the polluted lips of woman as long as she has breath in her body." "But Caterine Collins has taken away my child, and has not returned with it." "No, nor ever will," replied the outlaw. "She was the instrument of your destroyer. But I wish you to be consoled, Grace. Do you see that middogue? It is red with blood. Now listen.
Woodward like a dog, and that she goes into the Haunted House, too, every night." "And what brought you to tell me all this, Caterine?" asked Alice. "Why, miss, to put you on your guard; afraid you might get married to a man that, maybe, has sould himself to the devil. It's well known by his father's sarvints that he's out two or three nights in the week, and nobody can tell where he goes."
After parting from Caterine Collins, on whom the severity of his language fell with such bitterness, he began to reflect that he had acted with great indiscretion, to say the least of it. He knew that if there was a woman in the barony who, if she determined on it, could trace him to his most secret haunts, she was that woman.
During all this time Grace Davoren lay dying, in a state of the most terrible desolation, with the dead body of Nannie Morrissy on the bed beside her. What had become of her child, and of Caterine Collins, she could not tell. She had, however, other reflections, for the young, but guilty mother was not without strong, and even tender, domestic affections.
And how could she suspect Caterine to have been the agent of that gentleman, when she knew now that her object in seeking an interview with herself was to put her on her guard against him? The case was clear, and, to her, dreadful as it was clear. She felt herself now, however, in that mood which no sympathy can alleviate or remove.
"But, my good woman, any one might tell me as much." "No," she replied, with confidence; "examine your own heart and you'll find the two things there that it is fixed upon; and whisper," she added, putting her lips to his ear, "I know what they are, and can help you in both. When you want me, inquire for Caterine Collins. My uncle is Sol Donnell, the herb doctor."
Leave me, Caterine, leave me; I must finish my book; but I thank you for your good wishes. Go up, and say I desired them to give you your dinner." Alice soon felt herself obliged to follow; and it was, indeed, with some difficulty she was able to reach the house.
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