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dishonorable prying into private correspondence. And that you, Mr. McWhirter, a magistrate, should lend yourself to such an outrageous procedure! I blush for my country if such things be permitted. This may be the mode in France; and that's Delaval's only excuse. He knows no better. But I'd have you remember, sir, we are on British soil where letters-de-cachet and the spy-system have not yet struck root. Mr. Harvey, I beg to inform you, that in my judgment there is no case whatever against you; and in addition, I would tender my apologies for the inconvenience to which you have been subjected."
As the fine old soldier thus concluded, a rapid telegraphing took place between the French and Scotchman.
"But, sir"-began McWhirter with an assumption of bravery he was far from feeling.
"But me no buts:" thundered the Colonel, quenching him in an instant. We have had enough of you."
"Colonel Ansdell," began the American, "the hospitality extended to me and to my sister by yourself and son”—
"Leave my son out of the question;" broke in the Colonel, irritably.
With a look of surprise, Harvey, amending his phrase, began again
"Your considerate hospitality, and the very handsome terms in which you have exonerated me from the disgraceful imputations cast upon me by designing persons, form an ample atonement for any passing indignities to which I may have been subjected. But in the interests of Justice, and with a special reference to the implications thrown out against my young friend here, permit me to pursue this matter a little further."
"My son again my son. Well! what of him?" and a frown gloomed on the father's brow at the word.
"Has it never struck you that the tin-box and lid, so largely built upon as circumstantial evidence against Barney, and as tending to implicate your son,-has it never struck you that they might have been purposely abstracted from the owner, and used to cover the traces of the real criminal?"
"Proceed. What mean you?" said Colonel Ansdell.
For answer, Harvey turned to Calvert and proceeded to interrogate him
“How and where have you seen the man identified as Barillot ?"
Yesterday morning, for the first time," was the youth's reply. "He was prowling around Barney Bralligan's cabin, after no good either, else he would not have run so. Again I caught a glimpse of him in the shubbery tossing the tin box to Delaval there, as he was starting after Barney."
"Tossing the box to me?" echoed Delaval furiously. "Do you dare so to forswear yourself?"
"Silence!" said the Colonel. "Let the boy speak."
"I saw him through the window, and jumped out, and got on the mare and chased him. I know it was him, for I had a good look at his face when he turned to heave a rock down upon me. I could swear to it anywhere. That is the face of Delaval's witness, whom Barney frightened by calling Jack Barrel."
"Ay, lad! Jack Barrel,-Barillot! Murderer of women and children!" and as before, the Colonel seemed lost in thought again, and utterly oblivious of the further explications entered into by Harvey. At last the thought that was engrossing him burst forth in the abrupt enquiry
"Barillot! Who said he was the murderer of women and children? You, Bralligan! Tell what you know of the scoundrel."
"No good, yer Haner!" was the Irishman's rejoinder: "But it's Misther Harvey that will put ye up to some of his doings."
"Well!" said the veteran, and he fixed his frenzied eye on the American.
The story of the finding of Madeline was then gone over, as it has already been detailed, up to the point where the corpse of the frozen woman was indentified as that of Lisette, the miserable daughter of Barillot.
"And is this why you call him the murderer of women and children? He but cast out the vile woman, and the pledge of her infamy together. I honor him for it! I would do the same myself." And in his excitement the Colonel struck his wounded hand upon the table.
"And, sir," continued he, turning fiercely upon Harvey, "Is it you would introduce this child of shame to an honorable house, and lure on yonder miserable boy to link his fate and a stainless name with disgrace?"
Taken aback at this rude assault, and Madeline's sudden cry of wounded feeling, her brother flushed red for an instant, and then was earnestly proceeding—
"Hear me out, sir.
There is more behind—”
When Marie's shriek "Oh! He's dying!" and the swift rush she made to his side, drew all eyes to his condition.
His inconsiderate action had started the wound afresh, and after struggling an instant in the girl's hands, he fell back in a dead faint.
Calvert would have dashed forward to his father's assistance, but was whirled off by Delaval with the savage remark
"This is your work, parricide! Do you want to finish him outright ?"
As the youth, disdaining reply, was still struggling madly forward, they bore the nearly lifeless form from the hall, guarded by Marie.
Delaval cast a look of triumph around, and gave the cue to McWhirter again to proceed.
The canny Scot rose with considerable assurance, now the coast was clear, and hemming and hawing thus delivered himself—
"Noo, gentlemen; we've been lang daidlin' ower this bizness; an' it's high time to sneck aff. For you, Barney Bralligan, there's been nae defence offered worth a flee. Even supposin' the charge o' murder hasna been a'thegither made oot, whilk I'm far frae allooin', still ye're a rank Fenian by yer ain shawin', proved to hae been present at ane o' their illegal gatherins, nae furder gane than last nicht. I therefore commit you on the charge o' sedition an' treason, an' a suspeecion o' murder forbye. Maister Harvey; the sworm deposeetion o' a maigistrat, an' that's my ain sel, backed wi' sic concomitant proofs as hae been laid afore the Coort, are no to be blawn awa like thistle-downs wi' a doited auld man's breath. Your appeal to yer ain Cæsars ower the water winna help ye muckle here in the land o' Breetish leeberty, I can tell ye. I haud you to trial on the chairge o' incitin' Her Majesty's lieges to sedition an' treason, if nae waur. An' you, Calvert callant, sorry am I that yer feyther's son sud bring siccan disgrace on a honorable But there's ower gude reason for thinkin' you airt an' pairt in a' the lawless an' murderin' carryins-on o' thae Feenian cut-throats ye hae been forgatherin' wi'. Aye; gin the bullet had but sped true yesterday, the Castle an' the Estate wad hae been your's richt aff the reel, to wear on limmers like yon misbegotten queen there; an' dootless, that's what ye were ettlin' at."
The truculent magistrate had better have spared that last taunt
of his; for at the instant a steel gauntlet came whizzing through the air, that Calvert in ungovernable rage had snatched from an old armor trophy on the wall, and sent flying with unerring aim. It smote the scandal-monger on the mouth with such force that it knocked him over.
"Hiroo!" cried Barney, and cut a caper of inextinguishable delight, as he saw his enemy the Scotchman pick himself slowly up, wipe his bleeding muzzle, and coughing to clear his throat, spit out two teeth that his unlucky gibe had cost him.
So ended, amid confusion indescribable, what may well be styled the drawn battle of the day. The order for committal of the prisoners to the county gaol the following day was made out, regardless of Harvey's protests. The accused were remanded to their apartments; and intimation was given them that any effort at escape would draw on them the fire of the military, to whom the safe custody of the whole party was formally made over.
(To be continued.)
UP AND DOWN THE BRAS D'OR.
Na July morning, 187, the air was balmy and refreshingly cool-a pleasing contrast to the heat of the previous day. Immediately after Sol had emerged from his "fleecy chambers," and even while Aurora's blush was on the sky, there was hurrying to and fro in the city of Halifax,-for a right royal band of noble hearts had enthusiastically responded to the call of duty and were busily preparing to run the car of temperance on the beautifullypicturesque and sweetly-poetic island of Cape Breton. The last lingering star auspiciously lent its latest silver ray to greet this happy morn, and benignly twinkled a parting blessing for each and all of the merry company. Notwithstanding the frowns and struggles of Morpheus at being deprived of his victims at an earlier hour than usual, the whole volunteer corps assembled, and were ready to march at the given signal.
First and foremost in the ranks, head and shoulders below the rest, is Uncle Harry, hale and hearty still, although, as he delights to relate, he will be seventy-nine years of age if he live to see the
30th of February. In the twinkling of an eye, his eye still twinkles like the starry gems of night-the sober lines of thought retire from his brow, and joy and merriment dance fantastically on every face; for the brilliant scintillations of wit that sparkle in his eye, and the continuous flow of humor that oozes from every corner and cranny of his vast (?) corporation, never fail to dispel the lowering clouds of "solemncholy," thereby letting into every heart the bright sunshine of happiness and joy.
Next in seniority is Uncle Patrick-an excellent counterpart to Uncle Harry, a stay and a staff to him in his declining years,always indespensable on such occasions to make arrangements for the accommodation of the company, and especially as a precursor of fine weather; for, remarkable though it be, it is nevertheless a fact, that it never rains while he journeys.
Then there are Uncle Eddy, cousins Will and Thomas and John, all kind-hearted, generous, and joyous, as agreeable and interesting as mortals well could be.
Prominent among the worthies is Uncle Obadiah, a Son of long-standing-that is, when he stands. Eager curiosity singles him out as an intensely interesting "get up," fashioned after the American style of rational bipeds, with as much heart, and genius, and common sense, and affability as any other live man. And yet Nature, by lengthening out his corporeality, left sufficient space to junk on a fine slice of racy wit, welded to the rest by the electrical fire of eccentricity. He is a valuable acquisition, and all will be benefited by his companionship. Then we have a jolly good-natured Doctor and his worthy lady. The Doctor could subscribe to the following stanza, although he could not write it:
"Lords of creation, lower your crest;
Woman, with all her faults confess'd,
A more youthful trio brings up the rear. One is bright and joyous, the pulse of anticipation beating quick and strong; for he pictures in his heart of hearts a royal good time in such a royal company. He has already plumed imagination's pinions for an airy flight, and quick-eyed fancy has caught an anticipative glance of bright dreams, soon to be realized amid the true, the beautiful, and the good; and, thanks to the condescension (?) of the fair, he was not disappointed.