It was late in the evening when Miss Riddle was told by a servant that a young man, handsome and of fine proportions, wished to see her for a few minutes.

“Not that I would recommend you to see him,” said the serving-woman who delivered the message.  “He is, to be sure, very handsome; but, then, he is one of those wild people, and armed with a great mid-dogue or dagger, and God knows what his object may be—­maybe to take your life.  As sure as I live he is a tory.”

“That may be,” replied Miss Riddle; “but I know, by your description of him, that he is the individual to whose generous spirit I and my dear uncle owe our lives:  let him be shown in at once to the front parlor.”

In a few minutes she entered, and found Shawn before her.

“O Shawn!” said she, “I am glad to see you.  My uncle is using all his interest to get you a pardon—­that is, provided you are willing to abandon the wild life to which you have taken.”

“I am willing to abandon it,” he replied; “but I have one task to perform before I leave it.  You have heard of the toir, or tory-hunt, which was made after me and others; but chiefly after me, for I was the object they wanted to shoot down, or rather that he, the villain, wanted to murder under the authority of those cruel laws that make us tories.”

“Who do you mean by he?” asked Miss Riddle.

“I mean Harry Woodward,” he replied.  “He hunted me, disguised by a black mask.”

“But are you sure of that, Shawn?”

“I am sure of it,” he replied; “and it was not until yesterday that I discovered his villany.  I know the barber in Rathfillan where the black mask was got for him, I believe, by his wicked mother.”

Miss Riddle, who was a strong-minded girl, paused, and was silent for a time, after which she said,—­

“I am glad you told me this, Shawn.  I spoke to him in your favor, and he pledged his honor to me previous to the terrible hunt you allude to, and of which the whole country rang, that he would never take a step to your prejudice, but would rather protect you as far as he could, in consequence of your having generously saved my dear uncle’s life and mine.”

“The deeper villain he, then.  He is upon my trail night and day.  He ruined Grace Davoren, who has disappeared, and the belief of the people is that he has murdered her.  He possesses the Evil Eye too, and would by it have murdered Miss Goodwin, of Beech Grove, in order to get back the property which his uncle left her, only for the wonderful power of Squire Greatrakes, who cured her.  And, besides, I have raison to know that he will be arrested this very night for attempting to poison his brother.  I am a humble young man, Miss Riddle, but I am afeard that if you marry him you will stand but a bad chance for happiness.”

“She was again silent, but, after a pause, she said—­

“Shawn, do you want money?”

“I thank you, Miss Riddle,” he replied, “I don’t want money:  all I want is, that you will not be desaved by one of the most damnable villains on the face of the earth.”