The castle which had been built by the ancestors of Mr Rainscourt, and which, in feudal times, had been one of strength and importance, was about two miles from the town of ---, in the county of Galway, on the west coast of Ireland; and, as Mr Rainscourt had correctly surmised, when he returned to it, no officer could be found who was bold enough to venture his life by an attempt at caption, surrounded as he was by a savage and devoted peasantry, who had no scruples at bloodshed. Immured within its walls, with little to interest, and no temptation to expend money, Mr and Mrs Rainscourt lived for nearly two years, indulging their spleen and discontent in mutual upbraidings,--their feelings towards each other, from incessant irritation, being now rather those of hatred than any other term that could be applied. The jewels of Mrs Rainscourt, and every other article that could be dispensed with, had been sold, and the purse was empty. The good-will of the tenants of the mortgaged property had for some time supplied the ill-assorted couple with the necessaries of life; every day added to their wants, to their hatred, and their despair. They were seated at the table, having finished a dinner off some game which Mr Rainscourt had procured with his gun, and which had been their fare, with little variety, ever since the shooting season had commenced, when the old nurse, the only domestic they retained,--probably the only one who would remain with them without receiving wages,--made her appearance. "And sure there's a letter for the master; Barney, the post-boy, is just bringing it." "Well, where is it?" replied Rainscourt. "He says that it's two thirteens that must be paid for it, and the dirty spalpeen of a postmaster told him not to give you the letter without the money for it in his fist." "Tell Barney to step in here--have you two shillings, Mrs Rainscourt?" "Not one, Mr Rainscourt," replied the lady, gloomily. The nurse reappeared with Barney. "Well, Barney, where's the letter?" said Mr Rainscourt; "let me look at it." "Sure, your honour, it's not me that's refusing it ye. But the master tould me--`Barney,' says he, `if you give his honour the letter without the two thirteens in your fist, it's a good bating that I'll give ye when ye come back.'" "Well, but, Barney, let me look at it, and see by the postmark where it's from. I shall know, directly, whether I will take it up or not." "And suppose that your honour should wish to open the letter! It's not for gentlemen like ye to be standing against the temptation;--and then, the two thirteens, your honour." "Well, Barney, since you won't trust me, and I have no money, you must take the letter back. It might bring me good news--I have had nothing but bad of late." "And sure enough it might bring you good news. Then, your honour shall take the letter and I'll take the _bating_;" and the good-natured lad pulled out the letter from his pocket, and gave it to Rainscourt.