“Well now, Cannie,” said she, “what wonderful matter is this you have got to show me?”

“Here it is, Miss Julia,” said he, in his usual jocular and somewhat loud voice, “here it is, I’ll have it in a minute—­listed, Miss Julia,” he added, in a solemn and impressive undertone:  “what I’m goin’ to say is more to you than aither life or death.  Don’t go out by yourself—­don’t go at all out early in the morning or late in the evenin’.”

“Why so, Cannie?” she asked.

“Why, miss, it came to me by accident only; but the truth is there’s a plot laid, it seems, to carry you off to the mountains.”

“By whom, Cannie?”

“That’s the very thing, miss, that I don’t know; but a strange man met me on my way here this mornin’ and tould me that he was a friend to your father—­who was wanst a friend to him—­and that, if I’d see you, to put you on your guard against goin’ either to the poor or sick at the hours I spoke of; and he bid me say, too, that there’s bad work and thraichery about you—­and by no manner o’ means to go any distance from your father’s house—­ay, thraichery, an from them you’d never think o’ suspectin’ for it.  Now, miss, keep this counsel to yourself, and don’t say it was I that tould you, but as you love a fair name and an unblemished character, act upon it.  Dang me,” he added, “but I had like to forget—­if any message—­I was bid to tell you—­should come from Widow Lynch’s, sayin’ that her daughter’s dyin’ and wishes to see you, and that it’s afther dusk it’ll come—­if it does come—­well, if any sich message is sent to you, don’t go—­nor don’t go for any message, no matther what it is—­hem—­ahem—­oh! here I have it at last miss,” he exclaimed in his natural voice, “isn’t that a beauty?”

Julia got as pale as death for a moment, and then her brow became crimson with indignation.  In fact, she saw not his bracelet—­nor heard what he said in praise of it; but after a little time she said, “Thank you, Cannie, most seriously do I thank you—­and you may rest assured I shall faithfully follow your advice.”

“Do so, miss,” he replied, “so God bless you and take care of you! and that’s the worst the rantin Cannie Soogah wishes you.”

Alick Purcel almost immediately joined the family in the parlor, to whom he related a full and somewhat ludicrous account of the seige of O’Driscol Castle, as he called it—­or Nassau Lodge.  As our readers, however, are already aware of the principal particulars of that attack, we shall only briefly recapitulate what they already know, and confine ourselves to merely one portion of it, in which portion our doughty and heroic friend, the magistrate, was most peculiarly concerned.