At length the hour for setting out arrived, and both, armed with good oaken cudgels proceeded to Bodagh Buie’s haggard, whither they arrived a little before the appointed hour.  An utter stillness prevailed around the place—­not a dog barked—­not a breeze blew, nor did a leaf move on its stem, so calm and warm was the night.  Neither moon nor stars shone in the firmament, and the darkness seemed kindly to throw its dusky mantle over this sweet and stolen interview of our young lovers.  As yet, however, Una had not come, nor could Connor, on surveying the large massy farm—­house of the Bodagh, perceive any appearance of light, or hear a single sound, however faint, to break the stillness in which it slept.  Bartle, immediately after their arrival in the haggard, separated from his companion, in order, he said, to give notice of interruption, should Una be either watched or followed.

“Besides, you know,” he added, “sweethearts like nobody to be present but themselves, when they do be spakin’ soft to one another.  So I’ll just keep dodgin’ about, from place to place wid my eye an’ ear both open, an’ if any intherloper comes I’ll give yees the hard word.”

Heavily and lazily creep those moments during which an impatient lover awaits the approach of his mistress; and woe betide the wooer of impetuous temperament who is doomed, like our hero, to watch a whole hour and a half in vain.  Many a theory did his fancy body forth, and many a conjecture did he form, as to the probable cause of her absence.  Was it possible that they watched her even in the dead hour of night?  Perhaps the grief she felt at her father’s refusal to sanction the match had brought on indisposition; and—­oh, harrowing thought!—­perhaps they had succeeded in prevailing upon her to renounce him and his hopes forever.  But no; their affection was too pure and steadfast to admit of a supposition so utterly unreasonable.  What, then, could have prevented her from keeping an appointment so essential to their future prospects, and to the operations necessary for them to pursue?  Some plan of intercourse—­some settled mode of communication must be concerted between them; a fact as well known to herself as to him.

“Well, well,” thought he, “whatever’s the reason of her not coming, I’m sure the fault is not hers; as it is, there’s no use in waitin’ this night any longer.”

Flanagan, it appeared, was of the same opinion, for in a minute or two he made his appearance, and urged their return home.  It was clear, he said, that no interview could take place that night, and the sooner they reached the barn and got to bed the better.

“Folly me,” he added; “we can pass through the yard, cross the road before the hall-door, and get over the stile, by the near way through the fields that’s behind the orchard.”