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"Eh, but this is bad news!" says old Scully, evidently terrified and disheartened by his niece's words. "Where will it all end? Come in, Misther Rodney: let me look at ye, boy. No, not a word out of ye now till ye taste something. 'Tis in bits ye are; an' a good coat it was this mornin'. There's the whiskey, Mona, agra, an' there's the wather. Oh! the black villain! Let me examine ye, me son. Why, there's blood on ye! Oh! the murthering thief!" "Oh, why did you come?" she said to her father. "They will surely kill you." "You mistake me," says Mona, shocked at her own want of courtesy; and then she extends to him her hand, and, setting her foot upon the huge stone, springs lightly to his side..

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For a few days after this, the man used to take his baby on his back and travel out away from the camp, walking over the hills, crying and mourning. He felt badly, and he did not know what to do. "How many hours there are in the night that we never count!" says Geoffrey, impatiently. "Good-night, Mona! To-morrow's dawn I shall call my dearest friend." "You should have seen Mona," says Geoffrey. "She opened her eyes and her lips, and gazed fixedly upon the lively Edith. Curiosity largely mingled with awe depicted itself upon her expressive countenance. She was wondering whether she should have to conquer that extraordinary jargon before being pronounced fit for polite society." Tired at length, and feeling somewhat chilled, Mona rouses herself from her reverie, and, followed by her two faithful guardians, moves towards the staircase. Passing the armored men that stand in niches along the walls, a little sensation of fear, a certain belief in the uncanny, runs through her. She looks in a terrified fashion over her left shoulder, and shudders perceptibly. Do dark fiery eyes look upon her in very truth from those ghastly visors?—surely a clank of supernatural armor smote upon her ear just then!.