“Oh, my God!” cried Ethel; “they’re going to kill him, then!”

“Kill him!  Kill who?  Sure an’ it’s not killin’ they want me for.  It’s the other—­it’s marryin’.”

“Marrying?” cried Ethel.  “Poor, darling Minnie!  Oh, you can not—­you will not marry them?”

“Sure an’ I don’t know but it’s the best thing I can do—­as things are,” said the priest.

“Oh, what shall I do! what shall I do!” moaned Ethel.

“Well, ye’ve got to bear up, so ye have.  There’s throubles for all of us, an’ lots av thim too; an’ more’n some av us can bear.”

Ethel sat in the darkest and bitterest grief for some time, a prey to thoughts and fears that were perfect agony to her.

At last a thought came to her which made her start, and look up, and cast at the priest a look full of wonder and entreaty.  The priest watched her with the deepest sympathy visible on his face.

“We must save them!” she cried.

“Sure an’ it’s me that made up me moind to that same,” said the priest, “only I didn’t want to rise yer hopes.”

“We must save them,” said Ethel, with strong emphasis.

“We? What can you do?”

Ethel got up, walked to the church door, looked out, came back, looked anxiously all around, and then, resuming her seat, she drew close to the priest, and began to whisper, long and anxiously.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE AVENGER ON THE TRACK.

When Dacres had sprung aside into the woods in the moment of his fierce rush upon Girasole, he had been animated by a sudden thought that escape for himself was possible, and that it would be more serviceable to his friends.

Thus, then, he had bounded into the woods, and with swift steps he forced his way among the trees deeper and deeper into the forest.  Some of the brigands had given chase, but without effect.  Dacres’s superior strength and agility gave him the advantage, and his love of life was a greater stimulus than their thirst for vengeance.  In addition to this the trees gave every assistance toward the escape of a fugitive, while they threw every impediment in the way of a pursuer.  The consequence was, therefore, that Dacres soon put a great distance between himself and his pursuers, and, what is more, he ran in such a circuitous route that they soon lost all idea of their own locality, and had not the faintest idea where he had gone.  In this respect, however, Dacres himself was not one whit wiser than they, for he soon found himself completely bewildered in the mazes of the forest; and when at length the deep silence around gave no further sound of pursuers, he sank down to take breath, with no idea whatever in what direction the road lay.

After a brief rest he arose and plunged deeper still into the forest, so as to put an additional distance between himself and any possible pursuit.  He at length found himself at the foot of a precipice about fifty feet in height, which was deep in the recesses of the forest.  Up this he climbed, and found a mossy place among the trees at its top, where he could find rest, and at the same time be in a more favorable position either for hearing or seeing any signs of approaching pursuers.