“My ever--ever dear--dearest Julia!” he exclaimed, as he pressed her to his heart; where she sobbed, and tenderly reacknowledged her love. “On Monday, however,” she observed, after having somewhat composed herself, “I shall tell you, at full length, the circumstances that have disturbed me with respect to you.” Another kiss as they separated, and so it was arranged between them. When Mogue Moylan heard that John purcel had gone to the gunsmith's for the blunderbluss, he stealthily sought the barn where he slept, and, putting on a great frieze coat, he went to the haggard; approached the stack, and thrusting his hand up the thatch, secured a case of pistols that had been left with him and Jerry Joyce for their defence, and fixing them under his coat, deliberately took his departure. “I'll have betther luck,” he said to himself, “to join the boys, and as I have my own party among them that'll stand to me, we'll have the best chance. I'm to take charge o' the girls for him, after the men's shot; an' it'll go hard if I don't do him out o' the one he's set upon. If I sted in the house, as I intended at first, maybe it's a bullet from the boys I'd get into me. No--no--every way--think of it as I will, it's my wisest plan to cut; an' at any rate, he'd find me out now about the blunderbuss. Have her, however, I will, or lose a fall for it.” This was Mogue's last appearance but one about the proctor's establishment. John Purcel, on inquiring for the blunderbuss at the gunmaker's heard that Mogue had waited until the ramrod was put in, after which the man said he brought it home; a fact which Purcel never doubted. On the contrary, he felt annoyed at his own stupidity for not having asked Mogue the question before he went; and he consequently blamed himself more than he did Mogue. On his way home, however, he met Mogue; and it is necessary to state that none of the Purcel family returned to their house, for a considerable time past, by the same way, unless indeed very rarely. Mogue had come out upon the road, which he was crossing just as John turned a corner, and came plump upon him. “What is the reason, Mogue,” he asked, “That you didn't let me know you had brought home the blunderbuss?” “That I may be happy, Mr. John, but it was bekaise you didn't ax me; an' a beautiful new ramrod it has now, at any rate.” “Where are you bound for, Mogue?” “Why, up to Harry Sproule's for paper and writin' things for the ladies. Any news in Lisnagola, Mr. John?” “Nothing that's good, at any rate,” replied the other; “except that the country, Mogue, must be put under martial law.” He set spurs to his horse on uttering these words, and immediately rode on. “Ay,” said Mogue, as he looked bitterly after him, “there you go, you blasted tyrant! “Martial law! Ah, if I had her from among you, I didn't care the divil's blazes had you all, as they will soon; an' that may be, I pray Jasus this day! Martial law! ah, bad luck to you!”