torches to burning Mr. O'Flarney's barns, and stealing his sheep and oxen and all his goods." "Och it's my belief the rector of Belfont, when he comes, will speak a word for him thoft," returned Gerald MacAllain; "for, save the presence of the Duke, who is not here to hear me, he has been our guard and defence all the while his grace's honour has been out of the kingdom." "Curses light upon him and his gang," cried Sir Everard, furiously. Are not Miss Laura and Miss Jessica after him at this very time, and my pretty niece, my young, my dear Elinor, and Lady St. Clare, more crazy than all, is not she following him about as if he were some god?"
"The whole country are after him," cried Gerald MacAllain, enthusiastically: "it's a rage, a fashion." "Its a phrenzy," returned the Doctor,—"a pestilence which has fallen on the land, and all, it's my belief, because the stripling has not one christian principle, or habit in him:
