During all this time Grace Davoren lay dying, in a state of the most terrible desolation, with the dead body of Nannie Morrissy on the bed beside her.  What had become of her child, and of Caterine Collins, she could not tell.  She had, however, other reflections, for the young, but guilty mother was not without strong, and even tender, domestic affections.

“O!” she exclaimed, in her woful solitude and utter desolation, “if I only had the forgiveness of my father and mother I could die happy; but now I feel that death is upon me, and I must die alone.”

A footstep was heard, and it relieved her.  “Oh! this is Caterine,” she said, “with the child.”

The door opened, and the young tory, Shawn-na-Middogue, entered.  He paused for a moment and looked about him.

“What is this?” said he, looking at the body of Nannie Morrissy; “is it death?”

“It is death,” replied Grace, faintly; “there is one death, but, Shawn, there will soon be another.  Shawn, forgive me, and kiss me for the sake of our early love.”

“I am an outlaw,” replied the stern young tory; “but I will never kiss the polluted lips of woman as long as she has breath in her body.”

“But Caterine Collins has taken away my child, and has not returned with it.”

“No, nor ever will,” replied the outlaw.  “She was the instrument of your destroyer.  But I wish you to be consoled, Grace.  Do you see that middogue?  It is red with blood.  Now listen.  I have avenged you; that middogue was reddened in the heart of the villain that wrought your ruin.  As far as man can be, I am now satisfied.”

“My child!” she faintly said; “my child! where is it?”

Her words were scarcely audible.  She closed her eyes and was silent.  The outlaw looked closely into her countenance, and perceived at once that death was there.  He felt her pulse, her heart, but all was still.

[Illustration:  PAGE 774—­ Kiss you for the sake of our early love]

“Now,” said he, “the penalty you have paid for your crime has taken away the pollution from your lips, and I will kiss you for the sake of our early love.”

He then kissed her, and rained showers of tears over her now unconscious features.  The two funerals took place upon the same day; and, what was still more particular, they were buried in the same churchyard.  Their unhappy fates were similar in more than one point.  The selfish and inhuman seducer of each became the victim of his crime; one by the just and righteous vengeance of a heart-broken and indignant father, and the other by the middogue of the brave and noble-minded outlaw.  Who the murderer of Harry Woodward, or rather the avenger of Grace Davoren, was, never became known.  The only ears to which the outlaw revealed the secret were closed, and her tongue silent for ever.

The body of Woodward was found the next morning lifeless upon the moors; and when death loosened the tongues of the people, and when the melancholy fate of Grace Davoren became known, there was one individual who knew perfectly well, from moral conviction, who the avenger of her ruin was.