When all his preparations were completed, my father ascended to the upper story of the tower to satisfy himself that his wife and infant were in safety. On opening the door the chamber presented a sad and striking scene. On one bed, the corpse of the soldier’s widow was “laid out,” attired in the simple habiliments of the grave used by the Irish peasantry; and in another, two children were sleeping side by side, unconscious that murder and rapine were abroad, and that guilty steps were moving to this their abode of peace. My mother, bending over both, was murmuring a prayer for their deliverance, while, by the feeble light of a waxen taper, the priest, in a low and monotonous voice, was reading an office for the dead. One other person was there--a worthless woman. Mary Halligan sat before the fire; she neither spoke nor moved, but with her eyes fixed upon the dying embers, in full conviction that her treachery was suspeeted or discovered, she quailed before my father’s glance, and, while he remained in the apartment, never ventured to look up. The Colonel’s visit was short: he whispered in his wife’s ear assurances of safety, and affectionately kissed her and the infant; then turning a withering glance upon his former mistress, he left the chamber and joined the men below. The clock chimed three-quarters--no sound was heard that possibly could cause alarm, nor was there a growl from the kennel of the dog--and yet the murderers were at hand unchallenged. No wonder--Hector was in the agonies of death--Curses light upon the traitress! Mary Halligan, while she patted his honest head, had poisoned him! CHAPTER III. THE NIGHT ATTACK. “All heaven and earth are still--though not in sleep--” * * * * “Alas! that those who lov’d the most, Forget they ever lov’d at all.”--Byron. As the chimes died away, my father took a pistol from the table, placed another in his breast, and beckoned the soldier whom he had previously selected to attend him. “Honest Philip,” said he, addressing the non-commissioned officer, “keep the lads cool, and wait till you hear my signal. You may expect a rush in front--don’t let that alarm you, the door will defy every effort to break it down. Aim steadily--one well-directed shot is worth a dozen random ones. I shall have the honour of receiving Mr. Hackett’s friends at the pantry-window, and leave them, I trust, no reason to complain that their reception was not warm enough. Should that scoundrel move,” and he pointed to the prostrate menial. “It will be his last movement in this world,” returned Sergeant Brady. “I’ll pin him with a bayonet to the floor.” “Has the pantry-window been secured?” inquired the divine. “If it has,” replied my father, “bolt and bar shall be withdrawn, and the aperture stand invitingly open.” “What!” said Doctor Hamilton, “to give entrance to a band of murderers?”