"Blistheration and blackness be on the day I ever saw ye!" soliloquized he, as he scanned the castle and its defences. "Shure it ud vex Mister Job, let alone a Connaught Ranger, to be caged up here shaking at ivery puff of wind, like a dog in a wet sack. Bad cess to them, the spalpeens ov blue blazes! Och! how long is this to last at all at all." "Senor,—Luiz!" said a soft voice, close beside the loop-hole. "Hubbuboo, tearin’ murther! who are you, misthress?" said Mulroony, starting back in dismay as a dark figure, muffled in a hooded mantilla, appeared at the loop-hole. "Is it me you’re looking for, darlint? Well thin, honey, it’s just right you are, for there is not a smarter man in all the Connaught Rangers than Pat Mulroony,—damn the one from right to left! Ye’ve jist come to the right shop, honey; for, at wake or wedding who was the jewil ov the young ladies like Mr. Mulroony?" "_O madre Maria!_" said poor Virginia, shrinking back in astonishment and grief. Understanding that Louis occupied this turret, she had resolved to pay him a visit, favoured by the darkness of the night and the inattention of her father and the duenna, who were both at that time engaged,—the former at the chess-board with the major, and the latter with her mass-book and brandy-bottle. Trembling with affection, fear, and the chill night-wind, which blew roughly on her delicate frame, she sought the place of Lisle’s confinement; and great was her dismay at Mulroony’s reply, which, although she did not understand, she well knew to be the voice of a stranger: but she implored him in Spanish, _por amor de San Juan de Dios_, to say where Don Luiz was confined. "Don’t be in such a flustheration, honey," said Mulroony, putting out his arms to embrace her. The lady shrunk back indignantly, and it now occurred to the egotistical gentleman to awaken Louis, thinking the visit might be intended for him. "I say, sir! here’s something wantin’ to spake wid ye. I can’t tell what it says, becase it spakes like naythur Frinchman nor devil, God bless us!" Louis sprung up. "Virginia!" said he, and gave her his hand through the loop-hole. But she made no reply, save pressing it to her throbbing breast: her heart was too full to permit her to utter any thing. "Virginia! have you any new distress to tell me of?" "O Luiz!" said she, sobbing as if her heart would burst, "we meet for the last time." "How!" he exclaimed in distress and alarm, encircling her with his arm as if to keep her with him. "Who will dare to separate us now?" "My father. To-morrow I go from this; but whether to Paris or Galicia, I know not. O Luiz! his hatred is terrible. But for the intercession of the major, you would have been in eternity by this time." The challenge of a sentinel at the other angle of the bastion, and the tread of a foot, now alarmed them.