will stand at the hall-door.  I am quite satisfied that neither your father, nor the villain, will know me from Adam.  The woman who is to bring this will call on the second day after its delivery, and I shall be guided by whatever message you may send me.  On one thing, however, I am determined, which is that if it should cost me my life, I will prevent the meditated marriage between you and him.  Sooner than such an event should take place, I would put a pistol to his head and blow his guilty soul into that perdition which awaits it.  Don’t write; let your message be verbal, and destroy this.”

On going to widow Buckley’s, he learned—­after some trouble in identifying himself—­that she had several visits from Sir Robert and his men, at all hours, both by night and day.  He therefore hastily gave her the necessary instructions how to act, and, above all things, to ask to see Lanigan, and, if possible, to bring some eggs or chickens for sale, which fact, he said, would give a color to her appearance there, and prevent the possibility of any suspicion.  Having placed the letter in her keeping, together with some silver to enable her to purchase either the eggs or the chickens, in case she had them not herself, he then returned to the farmer’s, where he remained quietly and without disturbance of any kind until the third day, when widow Buckley made her appearance.  He brought her out to the garden, because in discussing matters connected with his Cooleen Bawn he did not wish that even the farmer’s family should be auditors—­although we may say here that not only were the loves of Willy Reilly and Cooleen Bawn known to the farmer and his family, but also to the whole country, and, indeed, through the medium of ballads, to the greater portion of the kingdom.

“Well, Mrs. Buckley,” said he, “did you see her?”

“Oh, bad scran to you, Mr. Reilly! you’re the very sarra among the girls when you could persuade that lovely creature to fall in love with you—­and you a Catholic, an’ her a Protestant!  May I never, if I think there’s her angil out o’ heaven!  Devil an angel I think in it could hould a candle to her for beauty and figure.  She only wants the wings, sir—­for they say that all the angels have wings; and upon my conscience if she had them I know the man she’d fly to.”

“But what happened, Mrs. Buckley?”

“Why, I sould some chickens and eggs to the cook, who at wanst knew me, because I had often sould him chickens and eggs before.  He came up to the hall-door, and—­’Well, Mrs. Buckley,’ says he, ‘what’s the news?’ ‘Be dhe husth,’ says I, ’before I sell you the chickens, let me ax is the Cooleen Bawn at home?’ ‘She is,’ says he, lookin’ me sharp and straight in the face; ‘do you want her?’ ‘I would like to see her,’ says I, ‘for a minute or two.’  ‘Ay,’ says he, back agin to me, ’you have a message—­and you know besides that she never buys chickens; that’s my business.’  ‘But,’ says I,