The moon had now risen, and Caterine, on looking keenly and incredulously into his face, read nothing there but an expression of apparent sincerity and sorrow for the indiscretion and folly of his brother.

“Well,” she proceeded, “in spite of all you tell me I say that it does not make your danger the less.  It is not your brother but yourself that he suspects, and whether right or wrong, it is upon you that his vengeance will fall.”

“Well, but, Caterine,” he replied, “could you not see Shawn-na-Middogue, and remedy that?”

“How, sir?” she replied.

“Why, by telling him the truth,” said the far-sighted villain, “that it is my brother, and not I, that was the intriguer with her.”

“Is that generous towards your brother, Mr. Woodward?  No, sir; sooner than bring the vengeance of such a person as Shawn upon him, I would have the tongue cut out of my mouth, or the right arm off my body.”

“And I, Caterine,” he answered, retrieving himself an well as he could; “yes, I deserve to have my tongue cut out, and my right arm chopped off, for what I have said.  O, no; if there be danger let me run the risk, and not poor, good, kind-hearted Charles, who is certainly infatuated by this girl.  He is to meet her to-morrow night at nine o’clock, in the little clump of alders below the well, but I shall go in his place—­that is, if I can prevail upon him to allow me—­and endeavor once for all to put an end to this business:  mark that I said, if he will allow me, although I scarcely think he will.  Now, good-night, and many thanks for your good wishes towards myself and him.  Accept of this, and good-night again.”  As he spoke he placed some money in her unreluctant hand, and returned on his way home.

CHAPTER XIV.  Shawn-na-Middogue Stabs Charles Lindsay

Shawn-na-Middogue Stabs Charles Lindsay in Mistake for his Brother

Shawn-na-Middogue, though uneducated, was a young man of no common intellect.  That he had been selected to head the outlaws, or rapparees, of that day, was a sufficient proof of this.  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.  He saw, too, that after she had left him, evidently in deep indignation, she turned her steps towards Rathfillan House, most probably with an intention of communicating to Harry Woodward the strong determinations of vengeance which he had expressed against him.  Here, then, by want of temper and common policy, had he created two formidable enemies against himself.  This, he felt, was an oversight for which he could scarcely forgive himself.  He resolved, if possible, to repair the error he had committed, and, with this