round him in the aforesaid coal-hole.  ’Come, sir!’ he exclaimed, in a voice of most ludicrous swagger, ’come, you scoundrel!  I’ll unkennel you—­whoever may be afraid of you, I’m not—­my name’s O’Driscol, sirra—­Fitzgerald O’Driscol, commonly called for brevity’s sake, Fitzy O’Driscol—­a name, sir, that ought to strike terror into you—­and if it didn’t, it isn’t here I’d be hunting you—­out with you now—­surrendher, I say, or if you don’t upon my honor and conscience you’re a dead man.’  ‘What’s the matter, sir?’ I asked—­’in Heaven’s name, who have you there?’ ‘Who is in the coalhole, father?’ asked Fergus, with a face whose gravity showed wonderful strength of muscle.  ‘Yes, gentlemen,’ replied the magistrate ’heroes that you are—­riflemen from a window—­upon my honor and conscience, I think courage is like the philosopher’s stone—­here have I, while you were popping like schoolboys out of the window, pursued their leader single-handed into the coal-hole, for I’m sure he’s in it, or if not, he must have escaped some other way—­d—­n the villain, I hope he hasn’t escaped, at all events—­here, lights, I say, and guard all the passes—­d—­n it, let us do our business with proper discipline and skill—­fall back, Fergus—­and you, John, advance—­steady now—­charge the coal-hole, boys, and I’ll lead you on to the danger.’  Of course he was half drunk, but at the same time he managed to conceal his cowardice with considerable adroitness.  I need not say that upon examining the coal-hole, and every other possible place of concealment there was no desperate leader found, nor any proof obtained that an entrance had been effected at all.  ‘Well, come,’ exclaimed O’Driscol, ’although the villain has escaped, we managed the thing well—­all of us—­he must have given me the slip from the kitchen and leaped out of a window.  You acted well, boys; and as I like true courage and resolution—­ay, an’ if you like, downright desperation—­being a bit of a dare-devil myself—­I say I will give you a glass of brandy-and-water each, and the intrepid old veteran will take one himself.  Ah! wait till my friend the Castle hears of this exploit—­upon my sowl and honor, it will be a feather in my cap.’  Fergus whispered to me, ‘It ought to be a white one, then.’  We accordingly adjourned in the dining-room, where after having finished a tumbler of brandy-and-water each, we at length went to bed, and thus closed the seige of O’Driscol Castle.”

Julia on hearing of this attack and its object, felt her mind involved in doubt and embarrassment.  She could not reconcile the desire of the Whiteboys to injure M’Carthy, with the fact of his having, by his own admission, spent the night among them.  Or what if the attack was a mere excuse to prevent any suspicion of his connection with them at all?  She knew not, and until she had arrived at some definite view of the matter, she resolved to keep as much aloof from M’Carthy as she could possiby do without exciting observation.  In the course of the morning, however, they met accidentally, and the short dialogue which took place between her and him did not at all help to allay the suspicions with which her mind was burdened and oppressed.