The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1886-01-07

1 u.
Roncesvalles in the Pyrennes. when he was
sore beset by the Moors, and how Charlie
magne, the great Emperor, heard the sound
| where he was hunting more than hum
| dred miles awayl' She said she remem-
bered the tale WELL saws he, am not
your own true knight. aSthorel And, al
| though haven't horn like the gallant Sir
Roland. have something just as good-a
| stout stockman's whip. So, If danger be-
| fall. I'll Just fetch sounding smack with
the lash, and here in this cabin you'll hear
| the noise
.:He was smiling all the time he was speak
| ing; but Miss Kathleen took it seriously.
| You won't forget says she. Sure and
won't says he, If you'll promise not to
| fret till you hear the sound of the LASH
| L promise. says she; and with that Miss
! Ellen and her brother came in at the front
door. and l went back to the kitchen.
''Well, miss, Masther Shane and his friend
started next day with half-a-dozen men
and four wagons. You'll take care of Miss
| Kathleen said the poor boy wistfully (;
when bidding me good-Sy; and should
anything happen to me, you'll never desert
said l. but what should happen to one as
| is prayed for by pure saint like my young
| ladyn What, indeed muttered he; and
| then he wrung my hand, and hurried off to
| take his last kiss from the sweet lips he
| loved SO well. little thinking twas the very
| last on this side the grave.
80 we were left alone, the two young
| ladies and myself, in the little cabin in
Melbourne. Miss Kathleen kept her word,
and didn't fret, though many a time her
heart was full. She just went quietly
| about the house. thinking of her cousin and
nought else. 'Twould have been a dull
time but for Miss Ellen Doyle. She was
the one to be always singing. joking, or
laughing and the days sped rapidly until
the ninth after the young gentlemen had
set out on their journey. Twas Friday
night remember it well, for sorra bit of
fish could get for the dinner that day
and Miss Ellen laughed when 1 came back
| empty handed, and says she: We sha'n't
dine to-day, Mally, we'll just wait
till tea time And so they did.
Passing nine O'Clock, they would have
me into the parlor. For, Mally,' says
! of your capital stories. Let it be about
Kerry We were sitting round the table,
our Knitting in our hands. | was between
the young ladies, and had just opened my
mouth to say that the story meant to give
them was called the Banshee of GObkiilin,
when. without a bit of warning, my darl-
ing Miss Kathleen gave a sudden start
THE stock whipn she cried, 1 heard it dis
tinctlyr Miss Kathleen trembled like an
aspen leaf, and calling to mind MaSther
Shanes words, my heart sunk within me.
She lay back in her chair without a sign of
HE, nef Ialr young lace COW ulSeu Will
such look OF terror as l never saw before
or since.
I'VE got her into bed. and then Miss Ellen
ran ont for doctor; and CHANGING to meet
Mr. Webb. the surgeon of the ship that car
ried us TO Melbourne, brought him back with
her. He was both kind and Skillful, and did
his best for my stricken darling: but he told
us plump and plain that her case was a
mortal bad one Twas brain-fever she had I;
and for weeks she lay 'twiXt life and death,
raving ever and always of her cousin and
the danger he was in.
''The fever was at its height when late
one night young Edward Doyle knocked at
the door. Ochone but he had the bad news
to tell. Masther Shane, the last and best
of his race, was dead, murdered by the
bloodthirsty blacks. 1t was on the ninth
evening after they had left Melbourne that
the savages set upon them, taking them at
unawares as they sat round their campfire.
But volley from the white mems pistols
sent the blacks back into the bush bowling
like fiends. Then it was that the masther,
vowing vengeance on the savages plunged
into the wood in bot pursuit of them. The
others followed, but in the darkness lost
sight of him; nor did they find the poor boy
till daybreak. He was lying under a tree
quite dead. the blood slowly oozing from a
deep wound in his side. He had flung away
his empty pistol; but his right hand still
gripped the heavy whip with which he had
seemingly defended himself against his
enemies. They buried him where he fell
under the shade of q biue-gum, with only a
rude cross at his head, to mark where the
last of the O'Connells ley.
''Such was the sad tale young Doyle told
us, the tears running down his face the
while, for he loved Masther Shane like a
brother, and his heart ached for Miss Kath-
leen. The doctor shook his head when he
heard the story. 'Twould be merciful
thing, he said, provided his patient did re-
cover, that all recollection of the past
should have faded from her mind.
''She did recover, poor darling, but very
slowly. At first, we thought her memory
was entirely gone. By degrees, however,
she began to remember, and by and by
asked for her cousin. To please her, we
said he had gone on a long journey up
country; and when we found she believed
it. Mr.. Webb told us to keep up the delusion.
''Well, miss, there isn't much more to tell.
Miss Ellen Doyle married the English Off
Ger who was so sweet on her during the
voyage out and went with him to Tasmania.
About the same time, Squire Doyle's eldest
son having been killed in the hunting field,
Misther Edward was written for by his
father. But before he went he had this
cottage built and furnished for Miss Kath-
leen; and he and Mrs. Major Gayworthy-
Miss Ellen Doyle that was-settled a small
pension ON my mistress that keeps her in
comfort. Here we've lived for over thirty
wears: and except for the longing she has to
see her cousin, it hasn't been altogether an
unhappy time for my poor lady. used to
worry myself, thinking how lonesome she'd
| feel if l were taken first. But since she's
come to know and love you, miss, I've been
quite easy; for should anything happen to
Ould Mally, know you'll never see her at
| a loss"
The old Irishwoman had told her tale with
emotion. Nor could for the moment help
| crediUing the supernatural element in the
| story. But at this moment Miss Moonshee' S
| voice was heard calling me by name. and
! hurried to the sitting-room. Never had
| seen her more animated. Her eyes were
| sparkling, her cheeks crimson, and she
| smiled gaily as | entered. MY dear" she
| cried, Il have had such sweet dream, ell
about the dear friend you have often heard
me mention-my cousin Shane. But must
| show YOU his likeness" And with fingers
that trembled sadly the poor lady opened
| q lockeS she always wore. disclosing the
pleasant expression on his frank, open
countenance.
'.Is he not handsome?" she inquired, gaz-
| ing fondly on the smiling face.
"He is indeed, l returned, feeling the
tears gathering in my eyes.
Dear Shane, what deal he must have
| gone through2 But he is really coming to-
| shall be. l may not tell you my dream to-
| day." she added with a little laugh; ''but
| to-morrow-you will look in tomorrow be-
| fore you go to church: Then, my dear, you
| shall know ALL
gave the desired promise, and shortly
after bent my steps homeward, meditating
on poor little Miss Moonshee's sad history
| and harmless delusion. The morrow found
me an hour before church time at her door.
1t was opened by Mally. Miss Kathleen
has oversight herself" she said; ''but I'll
! Just tap and ask if she won't see you in
| bed
Repeated knocks at her mistress's door
eliciting no response, the old Irishwoman
turned the handle and peeped in. ''She's
sound asleep, poor darling" she whispered
! "Just cast YOUR ewes on her, miss, and see