“There he is,” said the man, “standing with a whip in his hand—­that tall, handsome young fellow.”

Dunphy, who was sufficiently near to get a clear view of him, was instantly struck by his surprising resemblance to Miss Gourlay, whom he had often seen in town.

CHAPTER XIX.  Interview between Trailcudgel and the Stranger

—­A Peep at Lord Dunroe and His Friend.

It was on the morning that Sir Thomas Gourlay had made the disastrous discovery of the flight of his daughter—­for he had not yet heard the spreading rumor of the imaginary elopement—­that the stranger, on his way from Father M’Mahon’s to the Mitre, was met in a lonely part of the road, near the priest’s house, by a man of huge stature and savage appearance.  He was literally in rags; and his long beard, gaunt features, and eyes that glared as if with remorse, distraction, or despair, absolutely constituted him an alarming as well as a painful spectacle.  As he approached the stranger, with some obvious and urgent purpose, trailing after him a weapon that resembled the club of Hercules, the latter paused in his step and said,

“What is the matter with you, my good fellow?  You seem agitated.  Do you want anything with me?  Stand back, I will permit you to come no nearer, till I know your purpose.  I am armed.”

The wretched man put his hand upon his eyes, and groaned as if his heart would burst, and for some moments was unable to make any reply.

“What can this mean?” thought the stranger; “the man’s features, though wild and hollow, are not those of a ruffian.”

“My good friend,” he added, speaking in a milder tone, “you seem distressed.  Pray let me know what is the matter with you?”

“Don’t be angry with me,” replied the man, addressing him with dry, parched lips, whilst his Herculean breast heaved up and down with agitation; “I didn’t intend to do it, or to break in upon it, but now I must, for it’s life or death with the three that’s left me; and I durstn’t go into the town to ask it there.  I have lost four already.  Maybe, sir, you could change this pound note for me?  For the sake of the Almighty, do; as you hope for mercy don’t refuse me.  That’s all I ask.  I know that you stop in the inn in the town there above—­that you’re a friend of our good priest’s—­and that you are well spoken of by every one.”

Now, it fortunately happened that the stranger had, on leaving the inn, put thirty shillings of silver in his pocket, not only that he might distribute through the hands of Father M’Mahon some portion of assistance to the poor whom that good man had on his list of distress, but visit some of the hovels on his way back, in order personally to witness their condition, and, if necessary, relieve them.  The priest, however, was from home, and he had not an opportunity of carrying the other portion of his intentions into effect, as he was only a quarter of a mile from the good man’s residence, and no hovels of the description he wished to visit had yet presented themselves.