“Dear Alick,” said Mary, “by the love you bear us, and by the blood of those whom these murdering ruffians have sacrificed, we implore and entreat you to conceal yourself; and, if that fails—­then, by the love of God, do as we desire!”

She had scarcely uttered the last words, when a single Whiteboy, with blackened face, made his appearance at the end of the kitchen stairs, and approached them, waving his hands with a mingled expression of distraction and entreaty.

“Dear John,” he exclaimed, “be patient; and Julia, be calm, and hear me.  I am,” he added, in a low and guarded whisper, “Frank M’Carthy:  as you hope for mercy from God and life from man, listen!  The door will be broken in in a few minutes; but if you are guided by me, you may yet be safe.  Blacken your face forthwith, Alick; and here is a shirt marked with blood too—­a circumstance that will give you more security—­which I have brought you.”

“Frank M’Carthy,” exclaimed Julia, “and a Whiteboy!  Oh, yes, be advised by him, Alick; as for me, I care not how soon death comes—­I have little to live for now!”

“If there was time, dear Julia, for explanation, I could soon satisfy you; but, alas!  I fear to ask for your father and John.”

“They are both murdered, sir,” she replied; “they have fallen victims to men who are in the habit of wearing white shirts and black faces—­with, I fear, blacker hearts.”

“Great God!” he exclaimed, “is this so? but time now is life:  I must bear your suspicions, Julia, until a fitter occasion.  You, Alick, as you will not and wish not to leave your mother and sisters unprotected, follow me—­follow me, or, as I hope for God’s mercy, you are lost, and your sisters—­I dread to think of it.”

“It is enough,” said Alick, struck now with absolute impatience:  “I consent, Frank—­what do you wish?”

He brought him at once to the kitchen, where he took soot from the chimney, which he moistened with water, and, in a couple of minutes, blackened his face and put the bloody shirt over his dress.  The change was so completely and quickly effected, that the females for a moment took it for granted that they were strangers who had forced an entrance by some other way.

“Now,” said M’Carthy, placing a loaded pistol in Alick’s hand, “the pass-word for the night is ’the Cannie Soogah’—­you won’t forget that?—­but, above all things, don’t think of using your pistol, whatever may happen, until you hear me shout, ’the Cannie Soogah to the rescue!’ and even then, wait until you see and speak to him—­the brave, the noble, the glorious fellow!”

“Good God! and is he here?” asked Alick.

“He’s here—­he’s everywhere,” replied the other:  “he’s here, at all events, before now, I hope:  the manner in which I shall call upon his name is this—­first, I shout ‘the Cannie Soogah!’ the very mention of which will be followed by a general cheer; then, when he appears, I shall call out, ‘the Cannie Soogah to the rescue!’ After this you must be guided by me, as I must be by the Cannie Soogah and circumstances.  Come, now, it is safer to open the door and admit these ruffians.”