Half-way upon the road, where a stile opened into the adjacent fields, a man suddenly appeared, and, coming forward, walked for some paces in silence by her side, as though awaiting some recognition before he ventured to address her. He was of middle stature--his figure was entirely concealed in the thick and ample wrappings of a long, dark riding-coat, (or _bang-up_, as it was called,) common to that country; his step was firm, and its very sound, quick and decided, so different from the shambling pace of the peasant, told that, whatever he might be, he did not belong to that condition. As Miss Tyrrel showed no symptom of surprise or alarm, it is possible his appearance was not entirely unlooked for. She likewise, however, forbore to speak, and the stranger at length was obliged to commence the conversation--turning back, at the same time, the high collar by which his face was muffled, and exhibiting features so extremely dark that they would have been deemed repulsive, had they not been finely formed, and enlivened by the full light of manhood, which, however, some feeling of deep interest, or passion, seemed at the present to overcloud. "The hour is come that we have so often talked of," he said, in a low tone. "I have no time to waste, Katey--_are you ready?_" "Then you were right in your conjecture," said Miss Tyrrel, with an unembarrassed air; "your retreat is discovered?" "At least it can no longer shelter me. News arrived to-day that the soul of this ill-starred enterprize--Emmett--has perished by legal murder in Dublin. The gibbet awaits all those of his followers who may be arrested. Certain intelligence has reached me that my assumed name and character are no longer of avail--the local authorities are aware of my real offences. If I do not instantly escape, before the coming midnight I shall be a prisoner." "I expected this," said Katey, half musingly; "it could not be otherwise; you yourself anticipated it. And yet I have been to Cahill's," she added, looking down, "to--to--leave a book, for I was anxious, and _he_ seems to know nothing of your danger." "I have only just learned it myself, and have hastened to seek you; the mine at our feet is about to be sprung, and"---- "So ends _your_ life of ignoble disguise and _mine_ of duplicity. We should both be thankful." "One of us at least--thankful as the wrecked seaman, when the plank he clings to splits and sinks him within sight of shore. But time presses; I have come to test the truth of your character. Once more--are you ready?" "I am indeed--ready to part this instant. I knew it should be so; it was a pleasure to have known you, but I am resigned--ready. Fly! O lose not a single moment; the moon is rising. Farewell, and fly!" "Not without _you_! Girl, you affect to misunderstand me; or have you forgotten those promises of friendship and faith, even to death, that you have made me so often and so lately?"