The whole scene gave me some idea of the state of my native country, to become still more unhappy before many more years were over, owing to the misguiding of hot-headed men, and the cruel treatment of a Government whose only notion of ruling was by stern suppression and terrorism.
We rode too fast to allow of Larry playing his fiddle, so he was obliged to put it in its case, and trot after us.
I felt dreadfully stiff for several days after this adventure, and but little inclined to ride, though I managed to walk about.
Denis begged me to go with him to fish in a stream which ran into the Shannon three or four miles from the house. I agreed, for the sake of having his society, although no adept in the art of throwing a fly. Larry accompanied us, to carry our baskets, and the fish we intended to bring home. We started later in the day than we had intended, so that the best part of it had gone by before we could reach the stream.
I was more successful than I had expected, and succeeded in hooking and landing a brace of tolerably-sized salmon,—Denis having caught twice as many. This encouraged us to go on, and the shades of evening had already begun to spread over the beautiful landscape before we thought of giving in. At length Larry came up to me.
“I wouldn’t be after wishing to frighten you, Mr Terence,” he said in a whisper, “but I have just now seen something I don’t like.”
“What is it, Larry?” I asked. “Is it in human shape, or with four legs, a couple of horns, and a tail?”
“Don’t be laughing at it, Mr Terence. I’m thinking you don’t know where we are, or you wouldn’t be after doing that,” he whispered.
“We are fishing in the stream of Corregan,” I said.
“But does your honour know what happened here?” he asked, in a low voice. “It’s his ghost I’ve seen, as sure as I’m a living man, just behind yon clump of trees there hanging over the water; and I’m thinking he’ll be showing himself again if we stop here longer.”