“Supposing the fellow was what he assumed to be—your messenger, I followed him; and, by George, it was no joking matter; for he leaped like a deer, and seemed to take uncommon pleasure in pitting himself against the cob. I should have given up the contest, I confess, but that the knave had me in his power. For, when it grew dark, I knew not which way to head, until, at length, he shouted out—
“'There's the Lodge now, where you see the light.' And after that, what became of himself I cannot tell you.”
“It was Terry, poor Terry,” cried Sybella.
“Yes, it must have been Terry,” echoed her father. “And is this Terry retained to play Will-o'-the-Wisp?” asked Fred; “or is it a piece of amateurship?”
But both Sir Marmaduke and Sybella were too deeply engaged in canvassing the motive for this strange act, to pay due attention to his question.
As Frederic was but little interested in his guide, nor mindful of what became of him, they were not able to obtain any clue from him as to what road he took; nor what chance there was of overtaking him.
“So then this was a piece of 'politesse,' for which I am indebted to your friend Terry's own devising,” said Fred, half angrily. “The fellow had better keep out of my way in future.”
“You will not harm him, Fred, you never could, when I tell you of his gallant conduct here.”
“My sweet sister, I am really wearied of this eternal theme—I have heard of nothing but heroism since my arrival. Once for all, I concede the matter, and am willing to believe of the Irish, as of the family of Bayard, that all the men are brave—and all the women virtuous. And now, let us to dinner.”
“You have told us nothing of your visit to the enchanted castle, Fred,” said his sister, when the servants had withdrawn, and they were once more alone; “and I am all impatience to hear of your adventures there.”