“We had now crossed that part of the sloping upland which led us out upon a bridle road, that passed close by M’Loughlin’s house and manufactory, and which, slanted across a ford in the river, a little above their flax-mill.  Having got out upon this little road, Raymond, who, as well as his companion, had for some time past proceeded in silence, stopped suddenly, and said—­’Where is heaven, Mary?’

“She involuntarily looked up towards the sky, with a quick but more significant glance than any I had yet seen her give; but this immediately passed away, and she said in a low voice, very full of the usual tones of sorrow:—­’Heaven—­it’s there,’ she replied, pointing behind her, towards the burying-place, ‘in their graves!’

“Raymond looked at me, and smiled, as if much pleased with the answer.  ‘Ay,’ said he, ‘so it is—­wherever his white head lies is heaven.’

“I cannot tell how it happened, but I know that I felt every source of tenderness and compassion in my heart moved and opened more by these simple words on both sides, than by all that had passed since we met her.

“In a few minutes more we reached that part of the road immediately adjoining M’Loughlin’s house, and which expanded itself as it reached the river, that here became a ford, being crossed in ordinary cases by stone steps.  As is usual in the case of such, floods, which fall as rapidly as they rise, we found about a dozen persons of both sexes, some sitting, others standing, but all waiting until the river should subside so as to be passed with safety—­the little wooden bridge alluded to having been literally swept away.  Among these was Poll Doolin, the mother of Raymond, who, however, did not appear to take any particular notice of her, but kept close by, and directed all his attention to, unhappy Mary O’Regan.  About half an hour, had elapsed, when Raymond, casting his eye upon the decreasing torrent, said—­

“’It is now low enough—­come, Mary, I will carry you safe over—­Raymond has often crossed it higher, ay, when it was over the rock there to our right—­come.’  He lifted her up in his arms without another word, and, with firm and confident steps, proceeded to ford the still powerful and angry stream.

“‘Raymond, are you mad?’ shouted his mother; ’ten times your strength couldn’t stand that flood—­come back, you headstrong creature, or you’ll both be lost, as sure as you attempt it.’

“Her remonstrances, however, were in vain.  Raymond did not even look back, nor pay the slightest attention to what she said.

“‘Never mind them,’ said he; ‘I know best—­it’s often I crossed it.’