"Now, Giovannini," he said, "I am going to your cousin"—this was Dr. McDonald, of Kylles—"for I have done all that is in my power for your father. He wants you now, my son, and he wants such relief as the Doctor may perhaps give him."
"But, Father," I said, "that is impossible; you do not know the road over the hills well enough, and the country is alive with troops you can never pass."
"Nonsense," he said, with a short laugh, "I can pass anything on a night such as this. Let me take Neil with me, and we will be back before daybreak."
Knowing that argument was useless, I sent for Neil, as good and safe a man as there was in the country, and who spoke English perfectly, gave him his directions to go by the Ghlach Dubh—the Black Pass—saw they both were well armed and supplied with cakes and whiskey, bade them god-speed, and then turned back into the dark house.
The poor little ones, soon to be fatherless for a second time, were sleeping quietly, knowing nothing of the great sorrow creeping over them, and I passed on into the chamber of death, sending old Christie, the servant, to keep her lonely watch in the kitchen.
That last night alone with my father is as distinct to me to-day as if it were but just passed; it is full of things that are sacred—too sacred to be written about—and at the change of the night into day, I closed his eyes and prayed over his remains in peace.
When I could, I rose, and, calling Christie, opened the door softly and stole out into the cool, clearing morning air. It was so still that a great peace seemed over everything, and only the cheep of distant birds came to me; but soon I made out a moving figure on the hill-side, and, remembering Father O'Rourke with a start, I set off and hurried to meet him. But as I drew nearer I could make out that it was Neil alone, and hurried forward much alarmed, and, as I saw him better, my fears grew.
He was running at his best, without plaid or bonnet, and when we met all he could gasp out was, "Oh! the Soldier Priest! the Soldier Priest!"
"Stop, man!" I said, sternly. "Neil, Neil! What new trouble do you bring?"
"He is dead!" he cried, with a groan. "No, not dead, God forgive me! but dying there alone, and him the finest swordsman I ever stood beside."