The next morning the town of Rathfillan, and indeed the parish at large, were in a state of agitation, and tumult, and sorrow, as soon as the melancholy catastrophe had become known.  The neighbors and tenants flocked in multitudes to learn the particulars, and ascertain his state.  About eleven o’clock Harry mounted his horse, and, in defiance of the interdict that had been laid upon him, proceeded at a rapid pace to Mr. Goodwin’s house, in order to disclose—­with what object the reader may conjecture—­the melancholy event which had happened.  He found Goodwin, his wife, and Sarah Sullivan in the parlor, which he had scarcely entered when Mr. Goodwin got up, and, approaching him in a state of great alarm and excitement, exclaimed,—­

“Good Heavens, Mr. Woodward! can this dreadful intelligence which we have heard be true?”

“O, you have heard it, then,” replied Woodward.  “Alas! yes, it is too true, and my unfortunate brother lies with life barely in him, but without the slightest hope of recovery.  As for myself I am in a state of absolute distraction; and were it not that I possess the consciousness of having done everything in my power as a friend and brother to withdraw him from this unfortunate intrigue, I think I should become fairly crazed.  Miss Goodwin has for some time past been aware of my deep anxiety upon this very subject, because I deemed it a solemn duty on my part to let her know that ha had degraded himself by this low attachment to such a girl, and was consequently utterly unworthy of her affection.  I could not see the innocence and purity imposed upon, nor her generous confidence placed on an unworthy object.  This, however, is not a time to deal harshly by him.  He will not be long with us, and is entitled to nothing but our forbearance and sympathy.  Poor fellow! he has paid a heavy and a fatal penalty for his crime.  Alas, my brother! cut down in the very prime of life, when there was still time enough for reformation and repentance!  O, it is too much!”

He turned towards the window, and, putting his handkerchief to his eyes, did the pathetic with a very good grace.

“But,” said Mrs. Goodwin, “what were the exact circumstances under which the deplorable act of vengeance was committed?”

“Alas! the usual thing, Mrs. Goodwin,” replied Harry, attempting to clear his throat; “they met last night between nine and ten o’clock, in a clump of alders, near the well from which the inhabitants of the adjoining hamlet fetch their water.  The outlaw, Shawn-na-Middogue, a rejected lover of the girl’s, stung with jealousy and vengeance, surprised them, and stabbed my unfortunate brother, I fear, to death.”

“And do you think there is no hope?” she added, with tears in her eyes; “O, if he had only time for repentance!”

“Alas! madam, the medical man who has seen him scarcely holds out any hope; but, as you say, if he had time even to repent, there would be much consolation in that.”