“Thank you, Mogue,” said Julia, who was too quick-witted to misunderstand him any longer.  “Many thanks for your good advice—­and whisper, Mogue—­who knows but I may follow it?  Good-night!”

“Good-night, darlin’,” he whispered in a kind of low triumphant cackle, that caused her to shake her very sides with laughter, after she had closed the window.

Julia Purcel, who could attribute Moylan’s extraordinary conversation to nothing but a more than usual indulgence in liquor, did not for a single moment suffer herself to become influenced by the unaccountable information which she had heard respecting M’Carthy.  But even if it had been true, she was so peculiarly circumstanced, that without disclosing the private conversation she had had with Moylan, she could not without pain communicate it to her family.  As it was, however, she placed no confidence whatever in any portion of it, and on further reflection, she felt all her apprehensions concerning M’Carthy revived.  If she experienced anything in the shape of satisfaction from the dialogue, it arose from the fact that if M’Carthy had suffered injury, Mogue would not have been so much at ease on his return.  When his return was made known, however, to the family at large, Mogue repeated his first version, and assured them that he, M’Carthy had laid down in Finnerty’s for an hour or so to recruit his strength.  He supposed he would soon be home, he said—­or for that matter, maybe as he found himself comfortable, he would stop there for the night.  Mogue himself had come home to make their minds easy, and to let them know where he was, and what had kept him away.  To a certain extent the family were satisfied, but as M’Carthy had communicated to the male portion of them the friendly warning he had got from the Whiteboy, they said, that although he might have been, safe enough when Mogue left him in the mountains, yet considering the state of the country, and that he unquestionably had enemies, he might not be free from danger on his way home.  There was scarcely a night in the week that the country was not traversed by multitudes of those excited and unscrupulous mobs, that struck terror to the hearts of the peaceful, or such as were obnoxious to them.  Accordingly, after waiting a couple of hours, Alick Purcel got a double case of pistols, and proposed to go as far as O’Driscol’s, where they took it for granted, as he had not been able to come to dinner, they would find him should he have returned.

“Alick,” said the father, “after all the notices we have got, and considering the feeling that is against us, it is ridiculous to be fool-hardy—­don’t go by the road but cross the fields.”

“Such is my intention, sir,” replied Alick; “for although no coward, still I am but flesh and blood, and it is death you know, for mere flesh and blood to stop a bullet.  Give me my enemy face to face and I don’t fear him, but when he takes me at night from behind a hedge, courage is of little use, and won’t save my life.”