The Literary echo, and Pawcatuck advertiser. [volume] (Westerly, R.I.) 1851-1854, 1852-09-09
Grleftc0.
THE HEIRESs' PERILS.
tConcluded.l

The scroll so mysteriously gwen, anc
now pressed against her palm, implied
sense of her danger-a promise of ait
but she must be alone ere she coulC
venture to read it. Perhaps that home
ward ride, those moments of uncertaint,
were the worst she had yet spent-th,
trial was almost too great for endurance
She had longed to throw herself from
her horse, to cling to Fitzpatrick's pro
tecting arm, at least to return with him
but she thought of her aunt--alone, il
ard unprotected, exposed to the dangers
of Redmond's and Kelly's disappointed
rage-and she had restrained her emo
tions. She was returning to face the
danger-the unspoken prayer rose tC
her lips; all nature was so bright, SC
joyous, so animated, that her own spirit.
were insensibly cheercd. No; she
would not believe that she would be for.
saken in her hour Of need. Calmly
gracefully, kindly as ever, she saluteC
the few peasantry she met on her road
heard their little stories, and supplied
their wants. Their blessings fell warm
on her heart, like good omen but how
little they guessed her peril. With all
his mistaken ideas of wrong and right,
his perverted temper and sourcd mind,
the Irishman still possessed much of
natures chivalry, and an instructive love
OF birth. Though, after the deed, he
would have shielded the aggressor from
false shame, confused idea of an in
former, still, some among that crowd
would have FASTENED at her appeal.
But, to whom could she make it /; how
distinguish between O'Rielly's adherents
and their own peaceful tenantry Her
whole hope lay in the contents, Of Fitz-
patrick's unread letter.
She was home at last-how would
that home be desecrated ere night She
was understood-she might yet be saved !;
but still her own fate, hel aunt's life,
depended on her GOODNESS and courage.
wrote warmly and admir-
ingly, but most respectfully; his first
impulse had been to shoot Andy, and
return with her, but reflection showed
him the many dangers of such step.
What could he do single-handed, against
Redmond's band A brave man is
always prudent it requires great cour-
age to curb oneself to inaction; coward
is sometimes rash from despair, but the
brave man thinks and acts. Fitzpatrick
meant to ride Immediately to Clonmel
for military assistance, but in that dis
turbed country he could not feel sure
that any soldiers could be spared him !;
in that case he still begged Miss Deve-
nant to rely on him, for, though he
might then be later, he would yet res
cue her from doom at which his blood
boiled. She must pslter with the vii
lain, and obtain time she must hope
on and be firm to the last, for her friends
would never forsake her. He further
impressed on her the necessity Of ex-
treme caution that none might suspect
her communication with him {; and that
Mrs. Butler might not be alarmed, he
had sent sleeping potion for her, as a
would endanger her life in
fact, she had better be prepared for
some slight noise in the night. He also
begged that Gertrude would, if possible,
open the library shutters, or unfasten
them, as he meant to surprise the
Again he implored her to
sustain her spirits, and rely on him she
should be saved from the deep degrade
ton prepared for her.
She sunk on her knees, and covered
his letter with her tears and kisses but
she had no time to yield to these emo
tions, natural as they were no, she m ust
be calm.
Mrs Butler was still much better, and
Gertrude spent the afternoon >ading
and chatting with her. Hard as the task
was, she effectually concealed her ter
rors from the invalid, each hour drew
her nearer to the approaching struggle i
but still her voice was as clear, her
as composed as ever. At mo-
nents the dreadful thoug ght flashed across
her.
"Should Fitzpatrick be too late"-|
but she resolutely drove it back. Her
lunt was gayer, less inclined to sleep
han usual, but gradually the draught
began to show its influence. Gertrude
,ent over her for her evening kiss, it
night be her very last
"God bless you, darling; what
comfort you have been to me, dear Ger