a road strewn with a thousand dangers, leading, it may be, to an early death. Not for that will I deviate one furlong from my path. Sir Prior, where is the guide you promise?"
Keating, after a few minutes' reflection, instead of replying, conversed again with the girl, and then addressed the duke: "This hapless child is a victim of the wars; she was born far hence, and is the last surviving of my foster-sister's once blooming family. Her mother saved my life. This child, barefoot as she is, guided me hither. Is not a Keating fallen, when he cannot give succour to an offspring of his fosterer's house? And she, poor girl! she has walked far for me to-day; but she will not slacken in her toil when I bid her proceed. She shall be your guide, and your grace may rely upon her; the dog you fed from its birth were less faithful. Now, at the hour of noon, Desmond meets Macarthy of Muskerry, on Ballahourah. But for the bogs and streams that cross your path, it is not far; at the worst, you can reach Mallow, where the earl will lie to-night. It is best not to delay; for, if there is peace in Munster, very speedily Desmond will be on his way to Thomond."
This was a fresh spur to Richard. He accepted the proffered guide, who listened attentively to Keating's instructions given in her native tongue. He followed the girl but a short distance ere he looked back; the prior was gone; the solitude of the wild crags and shrubs alone met his eye. Meanwhile his companion stepped forward, motioning him to follow. They plunged into the brake; the sun rose high; the birds winged their glad flight among the trees. Now toiling up a steep, now wading a stream, now entangled in a thicket, now stepping lightly over boggy earth: now meditating on Andalusia, and now wondering at his present position, Richard followed his swift and silent guide through the wild country between Buttevant and Mallow.
Already the meeting between the earl of Desmond and Macarthy, the chief of Muskerry, was at an end. They parted with fair words and exasperated thoughts. The native lord could ill brook the settler's haughty assumptions; nor Geraldine endure the obstinate pride of the conquered native. Still their relative positions enforced a peace.
They had separated, and after a hasty repast, spread on the heathy side of Ballahourah, the earl proceeded towards Mallow. He was surrounded by warriors, who all claimed the Geraldine name, and who variously distinguished themselves as the White Knight, the Knight of Kerry, and the Knight of the Glen. There was Lord Fermoy, his father-in-law, and others of the Roches. Nor did all the native chiefs absent themselves. One sister of the earl had married Macarthy Reagh; another, an
