"I suppose Mrs. O'Flaherty thought discipline should be maintained at all costs." "Indeed she's the wonderful woman entirely," said her spouse admiringly. "What will you do, Mike," said I, "if Sir Rupert finds out your share in kidnapping his grandson, and makes trouble?" "Show the ould villain the barrel o' me blunderbuss," said Mike. "Oh, indeed, Miss Hilda, I'm a stout man on me own hearthstone! I wouldn't be half the man to face him up there, though he's ould, an' I could twist Gaskin's neck as easy as a chicken's. But the place sends the cowld to my heart." "It does to mine too, Mike," said I. "Ah, see there now! There was a power o' wickedness done in it in ould times. 'Tis the smell of it about the place makes your blood run cowld." "I suppose there was," I said. "You may say it. There's a hole under it, I hear, where they used to sling prisoners in the ould times. It went right through into the heart o' the world, maybe as far as the fires, for all I know. There was no end to it anyhow, an' they say you could hear the poor souls slippin' an' screechin' long after they fell. I never seen it meself," added Mike impartially. We were now come to the wood, where the trees were still creaking and groaning, while now and again a broken branch flapped in our faces. "'Tis well they may lament," said Mike. "A-many a fine fellow hung on them in ould days wid the feet of him kickin' in air. There's a Curse on the place, that's what there is, Miss Hilda, an' I'd never have come next or nigh it but that herself shamed me to it." "I hope Mr. De Lacy will escape the Curse, if there is one," said I. "Och sure, if we can get him well an' marry him to Miss Essie the ould Curse 'll rowl off him like water off a duck's back. Sure he's not like a De Lacy at all. His father before him took the turn against the ould bad ways, an' himself here is the better man. If we can only get him well," he added. There was a patter of rain in our faces, and the wood trembled before a fresh onslaught of wind. "Glory be! I hope it's not going to rain again," said Mike. "If it does, there's no knowin' what'll be happenin'. I've never seen the country under such rain before. The year o' the big rain they might be callin' it." "It's hard on you, Mike," I said sympathetically. "It is. The seed's nigh washed out of the earth, an' I never knew as hard a season for the lambs. But 'tis worse wid some others. I've a stout roof over me, thank God, an' fine foundations. If the rain comes on again there'll be many a little rickety cabin washed out to sea. The fear's on them already, the crathurs." "The fear, Mike?" "Aye, the fear. They're as frightened as sheep of somethin' that's goin' to happen, they don't know what. There's keenin' an' manifestations by night, they say, an' some say the dead rises out o' their graves night after night in the Bawn churchyard an' walks the world."