“Would you leave us, brother beloved?” said she. “Only to enrich you all, darling,” he said, “to win back treasures for all.” “But it is _you_ we want,” said Ethne, “not anything you could bring. What could you bring to us to make up for the loss of what you are to us? And how could you learn to serve our people as well as by being with them always from boyhood to grey hairs?” He smiled. “Then you never wish to see the world beyond?” “Why should I? Above all, now that we have found the gate into the great world beyond and above, and have learned that the Light of all the world is with us everywhere.” And in a low sweet voice she began to chant Patrick’s Irish hymn— “Christ beside me, Christ before me; Christ behind me, Christ within me; Christ beneath me, Christ above me; Christ on my right hand, Christ on my left.” Again the deer-hound gave a growl, but this time louder, and followed by a short anxious bark. There was again a soft rustle among the trees in the glen below them, but it ceased, and there was silence again, and Ethne threw her arm round the dog, and said— “Hush, Bran darling; you must no longer be a suspicious heathen dog. Quiet!” He lay down again with his head on her knee, licking her hand in response to her caress, yet still with ears pricked up, and an occasional anxious quiver through his whole frame. The brother and sister turned from the glen and looked again towards the sea. The moon had gone behind a cloud, and only a fitful gleam came now and then over the waves. In a low, sweet voice Ethne began again to chant Patrick’s Irish hymn— “I bind to myself to-day, The Power of God to guide me; The Might of God to uphold me; The Wisdom of God to teach me; The Eye of God to watch over me; The Ear of God to hear me; The Word of God to give me speech; The Hand of God to protect me; The Way of God to prevent me; The Shield of God to shelter me; The Hosts of God to defend me— Against the snares of demons; Against the temptations of vices; Against every man who meditates injury to me, Whether far or near, With few or with many.” The words had scarcely left her lips, when through the dark, with the suddenness and the silence of lightning, which the thunder does not precede to warn, but follows, to increase its terror, a band of armed men came on them from the glen behind, folded their plaids around both brother and sister, and with the practised skill of professional pirates, muffled their faces so that not a cry could escape; then bound their limbs with ropes, and swept them away helpless as branches of felled trees. Bran, the dog, made indeed all the noise he could, flew at the throat of one of the band, barked and yelled savagely. One of them tried to drive him away with a club, and another was on the point of cleaving his skull with a battle-axe, when the leader stopped him, saying—