“You couldn’t say what direction she came from?”

“Well, then, no.”

“Nor the direction she went by?”

“Well, no sir, I could not.”

“But are you certain it was to-day, and not yesterday, you saw her?”

“Then that’s what’s puzzlin’ me—­eh! let me see—­ay—­it was to-day—­an’ I’ll tell you how I know it.  Bekaise it was to-day I brought the oats to Gimlet Eye—­you know he was harrowing the black park yestherday and was in care of Paudeen Sthuccaun.  But sure, sir, maybe somebody else about the place seen them.”

An investigation was consequently held upon this reasonable suggestion, but we need scarcely assure our readers, without effect; the aforesaid “poor woman” having had existence only in the fertile imagination of stainless and uncorrupted saint Mogue.

The latter had scarcely retired, when a gentle knock came to the door, and Alick, on opening it himself, found their friend and neighbor, Darby Hourigan, standing outside.

“Well, Hourigan, what do you want now? have you repented, and come to the resolution of paying your tithes?”

Darby gave no direct answer, nor indeed any answer at all to these questions, but simply said, “There’s a bit o’ paper, sir, for Misther John.”

“What is this?  Oh, oh, a summons!—­very well, Mr. Hourigan, my brother will attend to it.”

“This is where John Purcel lives, sir?” proceeded the man, according to some form which he supposed necessary to give effect and reality to the service; “you acknowledge that, sir, do you?”

“Live here!—­why, you scoundrel, don’t you know he does?  Where else did he ever live?”

“Ay, but you are only answerin’ one question by another,” replied Hourigan; “and I’ll sarve you wid another to-morrow if you don’t speak the truth.”

“John,” shouted his brother, “you’re wanted.  Here is your old friend Hourigan, anxious to get another—­ha! ha! ha!—­he is off like a shot!” he proceeded, addressing his brother, as the latter entered the hall; “but in the meantime,” he added, handing him the summons, “this document is intended for you.”

“Well,” observed John, laughing, “unless our friend O’Driscol is somewhat change”!  I need not much fear Mr. Hourigan.”

“He is changed,” observed the proctor; “the fellow is beginning to run with the hare and hunt with the hounds.  If you wish to secure his favor, however, you ought to try and put him on the trail of a Conspiracy, or anything that will give him a tolerable justification for writing to his Friend the Castle, as he calls it!  He is a regular conspiracy hunter, and were it not that he is now awfully afraid of these Whiteboys, and naturally cowardly and easily frightened, I think he would be the plague of government as well as the country.”

It would indeed, be extremely difficult to find a family so resolute and full of natural courage, and consequently so incapable of intimidation, as that of our friend the proctor.  And what was equally striking, the female portion of them were as free from the weakness and timidity of their sex, in this respect, as the males.