O’Donell was thinking of his noble master and his young princes; of the thousands of miles which intervened between him and them; and the sad, silent tear gushed forth as he ruminated on the happiness of those times, when his master frowned not, when the gloom of care gave place to the smile of friendship, when he would talk to him and laugh with him, and be to him, not as a brother,—no, no, but as a mighty warrior, who, relaxing from his haughtiness, would now and then converse with his high officers in a strain of vivacity and playful humour not to be equalled. Next he viewed him in his mind’s eye at the head of his army. He heard, in the ears of his imagination, the buzz of expectation, of hope, and supposition which hummed round him as his penetrating eye, with a still keenness of expression, was fixed on the distant ranks of the enemy. Then he heard his authoritative voice exclaim: ‘Onward, brave sons of freedom! Onward to the battle!’ And, lastly, his parting words to him: ‘In prosperity or in misery, in sorrow or in joy, in populous cities or in desolate wildernesses, my prayer shall go with you!’ darted across his mind with such painful distinctness, that he at length gave way to his uncontrollable grief at the thought that he should never behold his beloved and mighty commander more; and burst into a flood of tears. ‘What is the matter, Henry?’ exclaimed Delancy. ‘Oh, nothing, nothing,’ was the reply; and they were resuming their tacit thinking, when a voice was heard outside the cavern, which broke strangely upon the desolate silence and that land which for thousands of years had heard no sound save the howling of the wind through the forest, the echoing of the thunder among mountains, or the solitary murmuring of the river; if we except the presence of O’Donell and Delancy. ‘Listen!’ cried Alexander; ‘listen! What is that?’ ‘It is the sound of a man’s voice,’ replied Henry; and then snatching up a burning torch he rushed to the mouth of the cave, followed by Delancy. When they had got there they saw the figure of a very old man sitting on the damp, wet ground, moaning and complaining bitterly. They went up to him. At their approach he rose and said: ‘Are you human or supernatural beings?’ They assured him that they were human. He went on: ‘Then why have you taken up your abode in this land of the grave?’ O’Donell answered that he would relate to him all the particulars if he would take shelter for the night with them. The old man consented, and when they were all assembled round the cheerful fire, O’Donell fulfilled his promise; and then requested the old man to tell them how he came to be travelling there. He complied, and began as follows:— CHAPTER IV OLD MAN’S TALE