figure of his companion, jumps hurriedly over the low wall, and disappears in the night mist that is rolling up from the bay.

Rodney, lifting the gun, takes as sure aim as he can at the form of the departing hero, but evidently the bullet misses its mark, as no sound of fear or pain comes to disturb the utter silence of the evening.

Then he turns to Mona.

6

'You have saved my life,' he says in a tone that trembles for the first time this evening, my love! my brave girl! But what an ordeal for you!'

'I felt nothing, nothing, but the one thing that I was powerless to help you,' says Mona passionately; 'that was bitter.'

'What spirit, what courage you displayed. At first I feared you would faint

"While you still lived? While I might be of some use to you? No!' says Mona, her eyes gleaming. To myself I said, "There will be time enough for that later on." Then with a little dry sob: There would

be time to die later on.'

Here her eyes fall upon Ryan's motionless figure, and a shudder passes over her.

Is he dead?' she asks in a whisper, pointing without looking at their late foe. Rodney stooping lays his hand on the ruffian's heart.

'No, he breathes,' he says. He will live, no doubt. Vermin are hard to kill. And if he does die,' bitterly, 'what matter. Dog! Let him lie there! The road is too good a place for him.'

'Come home,' says Mona faintly; danger is past, terror creeps over her, prey to imaginary sights and sounds. others, do not delay.'

now the actual rendering her a There may be

6

In ignorance of the fact that Geoffrey has been hurt in the fray, she lays her hand upon the injured arm. Instinctively he shrinks from the touch.

'What is it?' she says fearfully, and then, 'your coat is wet-I feel it. Oh, Geoffrey, look at your shirt. It is blood!' Her tone is full of horror. 'What have they done to you?' she says pitifully. 'You are hurt, wounded!'

'It can't be much,' says Geoffrey, who, to confess the truth, is by this time feeling a little sick and faint. 'I never knew I was touched till now. Come, let us get back to the farm.'

I wonder you do not hate me,' says Mona, with a broken-hearted sob, 'when you remember I am of the same blood as these wretches.'

'Hate you!' replies he with a smile of ineffable fondness, my preserver and my love?'

She is comforted in a small degree by his words, but fear and depression still hold her captive. She insists upon his leaning on her, and he, seeing she is bent on being of some service to him, lays his hand lightly on her shoulder, and so they go slowly homewards.

CHAPTER XIII.

HOW MONA PROVES HERSELF EQUAL-IF NOT SUPERIOR-TO DR. MARY WALKER; AND HOW GEOFFREY, BY A BASE THREAT, CARRIES HIS POINT.

OLD Brian Scully is in his parlour, and comes to meet them as they enter the hall-his pipe behind his back.

6

'Come in, come in,' he begins cheerily, and then catching sight of Mona's pale face stops short. Why, what has come to ye?' cries he aghast, glancing from his niece to Rodney's discoloured shirt and torn coat, 'what has happened?'

'It was Tim Ryan,' returns Mona wearily, feeling unequal to a long story just at present.

Eh? but this is bad news,' says old Scully, evidently terrified and disheartened by his niece's words. 'Where will it all end? Come in, Misther Rodney; let me look at ye, boy. No, not a word out of ye now till ye taste something. 'Tis in bits ye are-an' a good coat it was this mornin'. There's the whisky, Mona, agra, an' there's the wather. Oh, the black villain! Let me examine ye, me son. Why, there's blood on ye! Oh, the murdhering thief!'

So runs on the kindly farmer, smitten to the heart that such things should be-and done upon Rodney of all men. He walks round the young man, muttering his indignation in a low tone, while helping him with gentle care to remove his coat or at least what remains of that once goodly garment that had for parent Mr. Poole.

'Where's the Docther at all, at all?' says he, forc

ing Geoffrey into a chair, and turning to Biddy, who is standing open-mouthed in the doorway, and whothough grieved-is plainly finding some pleasure in the situation. Being investigated she informs them the Docther' is to-night on the top of Carrigfoddha Mountain, and, literally, 'won't be home until morning.'

'Now, what's to be done?' says old Brian in despair. I know as well as if ye tould me, it is Norry Flannigan! Just like those wimmen to be always throublesome. Are ye sure, Biddy?'

Troth I am, sir. I see him goin' wid me own two eyes not an hour ago, in the gig an' the white horse, wid the wan eyes an' the loose tail,-that looks for all the world as if it was screwed on to him. An' 'tisn't Norry is callin' for him nayther (though I don't say but she'll be on the way), but Larry Moloney the sweep. "Tis a stitch he got this mornin', an' he's gone intirely this time the people say. An' more's the pity too, for a dacent sowl he was, an' more nor a mortial sweep.'

This eulogy on the departing Larry she delivers with much unction, and a good deal of check apron in the corner of one eye,

‘Never mind Larry,' says the farmer impatiently. 'This is the seventh time he has died this year. But think of Misther Rodney here. Can't ye do something for him?'

'Sure Miss Mona can,' says Biddy, turning to her young mistress, and standing in the doorway in her favourite position; that is, with her bare arms akimbo, and her head to one side like a magpie. She's raal clever at dhressin' an' doctherin' an' that.'

6

'Oh, no, I'm not clever,' says Mona; but 'nervously and with downcast eyes, addressing Geoffrey -'I might perhaps be able to make you a little more comfortable.'

A strange feeling of shyness is weighing upon her, Her stalwart English lover is standing close beside her,

having risen from his chair with his eyes on hers, and in his shirt sleeves looking more than usually handsome because of his pallor, and because of the dark circles that, lying beneath his eyes, throw out their colour, making them darker, deeper than is their nature. How shall she bare the arm of this young Adonis? How help to heal his wound? Oh, Larry Moloney, what hast thou not got to answer for!

She shrinks a little from the task, and would fain have evaded it altogether; though there is happiness too in the thought that here is an occasion on which she may be of real use to him. Will not the very act itself bring her nearer to him? Is it not sweet to feel that it is in her power to ease his pain? And is she not only doing what a tender wife would gladly do for her husband!

Still she hesitates-though betraying no vulgar awkwardness or silly mauvaise honte. Indeed, the only sign of emotion she does show is a soft slow blush, that mounting quickly, tips even her little ears with pink. 'Let her thry,' says old Brian in his soft, Irish brogue, that comes kindly from his tongue. mighty clever about most things.'

She's

'I hardly like to ask her to do it,' says the young man, divided between an overpowering desire to be made comfortable,' as she has expressed it, and a chivalrous fear that the sight of the nasty, though harmless flesh wound will cause her some distress. Perhaps it will make you unhappy; may shock you,' he says to her with some anxiety.

6

No, it will not shock me,' returns Mona quietly; whereupon he sits down, and Biddy puts a basin on the table, and Mona, with trembling fingers, takes a scissors, and cuts away the shirt sleeve from his wounded arm. Then she bathes it.

After a moment she turns deadly pale, and says in a faint tone:

'I know I am hurting you-I feel it.' And in