LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2464, 28 February 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

EVA D'ALTOS'S REVENGE. [From " Tinsley'a Magazine." (Continued.) Afterwards she doubted not ; ahe waa only apprehensive for his sake, lest there might be danger to him in this mysterious secret which he kept back from love ; and though from time to time hints and rumors of a disturbing kind reached her, and her aunt urged her to ' have an explanation' with Meara, she firmly declined to pry into his affairs. Clarence Meara started on his journey to the secret meeting without the slightest feeling of apprehension. When he bad passed the boundary of the county Mayo, he Btopped at a village about ten miles from his destination. At the door of the inn he was met by the ' hall.porter' of the institution, a curious specimen of the tribe. 'Jim ' was a red-headed native, about the middle height, bat with great broad shoulders out of proportion with his inches. He bowed and scraped, and scraped acd bowed again, and touched his forelock, and bade ' his honor ' welcome ; but as he took the stranger's hat and coat he surveyed him closely with his keen ferret like eyes, and scrutinised him from head to foot, losing not one jot of detail In dress, weapons, or personal appearance, meantime answering all the questions put to him in a> cringing tone, and with an assumption of innocence which a somewhat more suspicious man than the new visitor would have taken note of. Wherever Meara went the little red eyes followed as if their owner was fascinated by the gnest. A little later a fine portly country gentleman, the beau ideal of a Connaught squire, entered, and a cordial greeting was interchanged between him and Clarence. The room in which they sat was a spacious one. The door opened on a large entrance hall, which gave free admission to draughts from all points of the compass. On this account «n ample screen was placed before the door, also partially concealing a large oaken press let into the wall at the same end of the apartment. At the other end was the fireplace, at which sat the two gentlemen. As soon as Jim hod placed some wine upon the table, and had been instructed to take him self off, he bowed hlmtelf baekwards to the screen, opened the door, and closed it noisily, bnt not behind him.

With great adroitness he Blipped Int? the press, and drew the door close. He had scarcely concluded this clever manoeuvre when O'Connor roae, and, walking towards the room door, turned the key. The next day Meara ani O'Connor proceeded to the house of the latter. Strange to any Jim left the Inn the same evening, and did not return all night. When he came back the next afternoon, from a visit, he said, to a tick consin, ho was travel-stained and weary as if he had made a much longer journey than 'across the few fields' to where his cousin lived. Begardfng the object of O'Meara's visit to the 1 ca'ily there were, besides himself, only three persons in the secretO'Connor, another gentleman, also an associate of the Brotherhood, and the priest, who was most anxious to have removed from hia parish the stigma of disgrace put upon It by a, desperate and nefarious organisation. Bat Jim had discovered the object of Meara's visit, and used the knowledge. The delegate of the Faithful Brotherhood was directed by the council to confine himself to the investigation and inquiry, and to take no active steps nn'il he was further Instructed. His report, written In otpher, he was ordered to Bend to a worthy law stationer, whose loyalty was unimpeachable. A fortnight passed by, the report was duly Bent, and a reply waa to be expected at any moment. Meara rode and shot and fished, and had no reaaon to believe that the object of his mission had been discovered. Cnce or twice he fancied at night that he waa watched, but he attached no importance to the incident. He waa beginning to get tired of idleness and to long for a reply to the deapatch he had sent to Dublin.

The night was bright and fair as Clarence Meara left the hospitable cottage of the pariah priest, with whom he had dined. It was a little after eleven o'clock. Two miles of a by no maans pleasant road lay between the priest's residence and Mr O'Connor'a gatehouse. Meara thought nothing of the

I distance. With a sword-stick in his hand and his pistol in his pocket, he strode a'ong at a quick pace. From the piiest's bouse the road turned abruptly to the right, entering a rnvine between two rooky eminences. It then rose abruptly for about half a mile, reaching a considerable altitude known as 4 Hangman's Hill,' from the frequent executions which had taken place there in the rebellion year. At the farther end of the ravine was a bridle-path, affording a short; cut to the high road leading yast Mr O'Connor's demesne. Meara, suspecting nothing, struck into the ravine, intending to U\\o the path instead of cl<mbing the hill. The night was fine, and a fitful moonlight now and again escaped from behind the passing clouds. He had not proceeded far when he was confronted by three men, who addressed him in a gruff and insolent manner. He bade them stand out of his way ; but the answer was a blow, which he warded off, and returned with such fore a that his assailant fell senseless to the ground. The seoond was harder to tackle. With a wild whoop, he flung himself upon the young man, and succeeded in getting hold of the stick with one hand, while he whirled his bludgeon with the other. As he grasped the stick with a vine-like clutch, Meara tonched a spring under his thumb. The man fell back in astonishment, aa he saw a bright blade flash in the light. The next instant it was passed through his body, and Meara tnrned on his third assailant. Sat now two things happened which changed the aspect of affars. Clarence, with his back turned to the hill, stood waiting his adversary's attaok. He forbore to strike, as he saw something of terror and surprise in the eyes of the man who looked, not at him, but at something apparently far away ov<r his head. As the fellow turned to fir, Clarence fired; at the same moment a terrible blow from behind fell upon his head; a loaded stick orushed through his skull, and Eva D"Alton's lover tottered forwaid upon his face, and died without a struggle by the roadside. Presently the sound of horses' hoofs was heard, and a cavalry patrol—whose appearance it was, as they crossed the brow cf the hill, that had startled Clarence Meara's last assailant — arrived upon the scene. They fonnd Meara to be quite dead. The man he had pinked lay moaning on the ground, the others bad disappeared. The wounded man died the next day, having made a voluntary confession, and given the name of two of his ao complices He sid that they had been ordered to get rid of the young man, and that four of them had been selected for the duty by lot. The two who had deserted him, and left him, ' to fall into the hands of the sojors,' he cursed in bitter torms. Of the third he would say nothing. He acknowledged tnat he knew him—the man who had struck the fatal blow—but he could not be induced to reveal his name. All questions put to him on the subjeot he answered with a negative, or did not answer at all. And so be died with his secret untold. Two men died for the crime on Hangman's Hill, but the murder, r of Clarence Meara was undiscovered and unpunished. A year hart passed away since the envcy of the Faithful Brotherhood met his death at the hand of an assassin. In a little graveyard by the seashore, under the shadow of a venerable ruin, there stood a white-marble cross, bearing the following inscription : •Clarence Meara, aged twenty-eight, foully murdered en the ntght of the 10th June, 18 —, near the village of Clanbally. Adliuc jacet inultus. E.D.' The people in the neighborhood could not Inform the traveller by whom the cross was erected. Workmen bad come down from Dublin shortly after the poor young gentleman was buried in the abbey, and in marvellous quick time had put up the cross, and then they went away. A few days afterwards, a lady, dressed in black, was seen kneeling at the gravf, which she had covered all over with beautiful flowers, The people marvelled how she could stay there so long without moving. An old crone more curious than her neighbors, watched from behind the low wall of the cemetery, and described how she saw the lady fling herself upon the grave, and kies the sod passionately, and then rise, drawing her thick veil more cloee'y round her face, and walk straight as a pike handle over the mounds and the rude graves, out of the churchyard gate. It was the anniversary of the day on which Olarenoe Meara was burled. The council of the Faithful Brotherhood were assembled at th«.ir usual plsoe of meeting There was a pause in the proceedings, and the brethren were conversing with each other as they sat round the long table covered with crimson baize. The president had just administered the oatb to a now member of conncil. Before nim, on the table, was a Bible and tho parchment, on which was written in cipher the terms of the oath and the two chief obligations of the order. Suddenly every head was raised, every eye turned to the end of the room at the back of the president's chair. A young girl, clad in a long robe of black velvet, with a veil of crape flung back over a travelling hat, advanced to the table. Her beautiful face was deadly white, her lips were closed firmly, a curious light gleamed in her eyes Before the president, who had riten to his feet in anger and surprise, could interpose, she had taken the Bible In her right hand, -while she placed the left upon the parchment. 'I know the contents of this oatb,' she said, in a low but clear and most musical voice, ' its meaning, and its obligations. I acsept it. I swear to abide by it. I will be true to the order, and to the country if it wants me. Gentlemen, I pray your patience for a brief space. How I came here you shall know presently. Why I came I will tell you now ' By this time they had all recognised the betrothed of Clarence Meara. No one sought to interrupt her. None of those present bad seen her since a short time after her lover's murder, as the had gone with her aunt to live in the oountry. Report had it that her mind had been affected by the tenible calamity which had darkened her young life. I'osaibly this thought had something to do with the attitude of the council toward her under the peculiar circumstances. ' I come to you,' she said, still speaking in calm steady accents, without any sign of outward emotion—' I come to you for justice. I come to {remind you of your oaths, of a duty negleoted, an obligation unfulfilled. On the night you sent him, who was to have been my husband, to hfs death, your president explained the bond that united the brethren. Yes ; I heard it. Have a little patience with me, I will explain everything. You swore, each and all of you, to avenge a murdered brother. In a lone country churchyard; where every day and every night the Atlantic wind sings his requiem through the trees, there is a cross, the inscription of which tells the passer-by that there Clarence Meara, foully murdered, lies unavenged. Brethren, I claim the fulfilment of your oaths. I oak yon to redeem your pledge to the living and the dead. I ask you to kill the murderer of my love and of my happiness. I ask it of each of you and of all of you on your honour and on your oath.' White speaking the last sentence, she raised her voice a little, and clasped the back of the president's chair. A gentleman here rose, and asked her to be seated ; but she motioned him away with a courteous gesture.

The preaident then turned slightly towards her, and, placing hia hands upon hers in a paternal manner, endeavored to reason with her, without making any inquiry as to how she had gained admission to the secret council-chamber. • My dear child,* he said, ' every brother here, as well as myself, grieves with yon, and sympathises with you moat heartily. Oar loss, like yeura—the loss to the country aleo— has been great—inestimable. We have not ceased to mourn—as men who best knew his worth, gallantry, his devotion —the untimely taking off of our beloved friend. You have rightly interpreted the oath of the Brotherhood. Yoa have not misdescribed the obligation It involves but you forget that justice has been done. The British hangman has forestalled us; two men have suffered the extreme penalty of the British law; Clarence Meara ia not unavenged.' 'His murderer lives,' said Kva: 'the wretch who struck the blow, the miscreant who killed him from behind, when he had already held his ground against three men, has not been killed. Vengoanoe has not been dono on the murderer of Olarence Meara. The two men who died on Hang man's Hill protested at the last moment that they had not struck the fatal Ylovr. The man who died of Clarence's swordthrust would rot reveal the name of the fourth person. Why? Bjoanoe he was h*s own brother. The man lives now ; that he does, is a reproach to those who have sworn an oath as yet unredeemed. 1 have no more

to bbv How I gained entrance here is short to tell There is a secret door In yonder wall the third panel from the corner. It communicates with a lobby, from which a suiral staircase leads to the street-door. That and all other secrets of the order, will ho sa'crad with me. I have taken the oath, and will keep it in the minutest point. One laßt word. If you do not avenge Clarence Meara, I will.' Bowing to the members of the council and to the provident, who all rose to their feet to return her salutation, sha moved to the principal entrance. A junior member guided her by an intricate 'passage and past four sentinels, leaving her only when be had placed her in the chair which was waiting. {To be continued )