The poor man trembled violently, and his livid lips opened but he could not utter a word.

“What an obstinate, silent ould baste you are,” said the same man, “not to give a civil answer to my question.  Bud maybe the look o’ this plaything id drive spake outov you—­oh, you may stare now!” Saying this, he drew forth a board with a thick handle, the bottom part of which was closely studded with nails and sharp pieces of iron, in imitation of the cards they use for wool, and continued—­“Would you admire the taste of this in the flesh on your back, my informin’ codger!—­eh?”

Upon this, shouts of “card him! card him!” arose from the group, and his hands were quickly unloosed, and he was violently dashed on his face, while some held his legs and others his arms.  Then his back was stripped, and the stranger laid the board flatly on it, with the iron points touching the flesh, while another stood up with the large mallet ready to drive them in, the shrieks of the victim becoming more and more faint.  Just as the man who held the weapon last named was about to strike, and just as a demon grin of satisfied vengeance distorted the otherwise handsome features of the stranger, a light and tiny form flew screaming towards them, her long yellow hair floating in the night-breeze, and her white dress hanging loosely about her delicate limbs.  It was Minny, who, unmindful of all, and seeing only her father, threw herself on her knees beside him, exclaiming in tones of agony: 

“Oh, my father—­my dear father—­what is the matter?—­what are they goin’ to do wid you?”

The stranger started at the tones of her voice, and on gazing at her for a moment, flung the card to a distance, and catching her in his arms, kissed away the tears which covered her cheeks, as she struggled for release.

“Is it you,” he said with much emotion, “that I promised to purtect?—­You, who succored an’ saved me when I was dyin’ for want?  An’ are you the daughter ov Whelan the procthor?”

The men, perplexed at the apparition of the child, mechanically had released their prisoner; and he, starting up with the sudden hope of freedom, stood confronting the stranger, who yet held his child.

“Gracious Providence!” he exclaimed in wonder, as the moonlight streamed on the face he was trying to recognize—­“Is id—­can id be Robert Dillon?”

“Yis, Whelan!” was the answer, “it is the man you name—­the man you caused to be thried an’ banished, an’ the man who came here to have revange!”

“Oh. don’t hurt him—­don’t hurt him—­he is my father,” cried the little Minny who now also seemed to recognize him.

“Iv he was surrounded wid fiends,” answered Dillon, kissing her fair smooth brow, “iv he was for ever on the watch, I’d still have my revenge:  bud for your sake, sweet, good-natured child—­for your sake, I’ll not allow him to be touched!”

A murmur here began to rise among some of the men, while the leader, with one or two others, seemed to take part with the returned son of Nanny Dillon.  Upon this he added—­