No. 501.]

HESTER'S HISTORY.

A NEW SERIAL TALE.

CHAPTER XXVII. HESTER, THE SPY. THE landing on which they emerged was in flames; also the staircase on before them. For those who had been ignorant of the planning of the castle there had been no hope. Sir Archie knew where to look for the small door which led to the narrow stair made of stone, which wound down, and down, all through the building, to the servants' quarters at the back of the castle. On the stone stair they were safe, and in a few moments they were breathing freely in open air. That back door, through which Miss Madge's rebel had rushed one evening, was unfastened. Through this they passed out into a thick lonely grove near the small old-fashioned entrance. Then the ancient drawbridge was straight before them.

"My mother!" said Sir Archie. "I must return and look for her!"

"She's safe, sir-the family's all safe," said Pat, at his elbow. "It's you they're afther. It's yourself ye have to save! Cross the bridge, and get into the moat."

"You must not wait for me," said Hester. I will run to the village, to Mrs. Hazeldean." "I will not leave you till I leave you with her," said Sir Archie. "We will go on together."

Discussion could only waste time. Hester's fears put wings to her feet. The glare from the burning castle was all over the sky. They could hear the horrible roar of the flames, and the shouts of the soldiery. Showers of sparks fell about them as they crept along in the hollow of the moat, sheltered under the high bank, with its fringes of ferns, and its drooping bushes.

They ventured on the road at last. By-andby they heard a group of soldiers coming noisily along, and hid behind some bushes in the hedge. One of the soldiers swore he had seen some thing moving in the ditch, and poked among the bushes with his bayonet. The bayonet grazed Hester's arm, as it stuck in the soft moss and earth by her side. Happily this soldier's companions believed he had been mistaken, and insisted on dragging him on. They were in haste to reach the scene of action.

[PRICE 2d.

After this little adventure Sir Archie kept clear of the road. It was safer, though slower, ploughing through the heather, with knolls and rocks for shelter at right and left. At some places he had to carry Hester, being deaf to her entreaties that he would go on without her. A grey lightness began to glimmer upon the air. Oh God, keep it dark till we reach the bay!" prayed Hester. But the night was on the wane. The clouds quivered and parted, leaned together a while, then loosened their hold, and fell back to north and to south, to east and west, leaving the sky a sea of pallid green, with faint stars struggling and expiring in its depths.

The curve of the bay was reached at last, but a little distance from the village. The boat was still waiting, with the faithful boatman; who proved to be Madge's rebel, Polly's lover.

till I

"I will not go," said Sir Archie, leave you safe with Mrs. Hazeldean.” Step into the boat!" cried Hester, almost maddened by the thought of the delay and its risk. "Do not lose an instant. When you are gone I shall be cautious, and take care of myself; but if you come a step further with me, I will throw myself on the first bayonet I meet."

Sir Archie looked at her in amazement, the meek Hester quivering and glowing with passion.

"I cannot leave you to go by yourself," he

said.

Hester was in despair: but a happy thought struck her, and changing her manner, she began to complain bitterly.

"Oh, why will you insist on destroying me ?" she said, wringing her hands. "Do you not know that I am only in danger so long as I am in your company? When you are gone 1 shall be safe."

"She's right, yer honer," said the boatman. "Ye'll only be the ruin o' her."

Sir Archie, with a shock, seemed to see truth in this argument.

"I have been mad," he said, "not to think of that." And he sprang into the boat. "Fly, in God's name, then!" he cried, as he saw her standing alone and defenceless on the shore.

"I shall be quite safe!" cried Hester, radiant, as she saw the boat move off. "Nothing can hurt me now."

Sir Archie, from the bay, saw her flying figure disappear among the houses of the village.

Then he looked up his glen, and saw torrents of smoke and flame pouring and streaming above the trees, above the hills, into the pale green air of the dawn. He thanked God that those he loved were safe, and wondered bitterly about the helpless crowd that had taken refuge under his roof. But the boat sped farther and farther out to sea. A rival conflagration to that ghastly one of the hills burst forth among the clouds in the east. The sun rose, and Sir Archie was out of danger.

Meantime Hester sped on through the village. Not a living creature was to be seen. Heaps of ruins smoked on every side, and some of the larger houses still burned fiercely. Hester's heart died within her, as she thought that Mrs. Hazeldean's house might also lie in ashes. The doctor and his wife might be dead, buried under the ruins of their home. Why not, when fire was everywhere? The very air seemed blazing, as the red light of the rising sun strengthened and came streaming from the east, glowing upon Hester's shoulders, falling before her on the road. Heaven and earth were burning. It seemed to her that she was flying through a wilderness of flames.

At such a time as this people think all of themselves, or nothing of themselves. At the first news of the attack upon the castle, Dr. Hazeldean had gone out from his house and taken his way up the glen. This husband and his wife had taken counsel together, and they had agreed that it was his duty to go and sec to the wounded. So the doctor went forth, and Mrs. Hazeldean remained in her house.

She was on her knees in her parlour, alone, when she heard Hester's wild hands coming beating on her door and window. Her lamp was still burning, and her shutters closed. She had passed the long hours of the night in prayer, and she did not know that the morning had already arisen. The noise aroused her rudely. She arose from her knees, and went boldly to her door. She expected less gentle visitors than the worn-out fugitive who clamoured for admittance. Why should she think to be spared in such an hour? The brave ruddy sunlight poured in on her from the outer world, and Hester fell sobbing into her arms.

"He is saved!" cried Hester; "he is saved!" "Who is saved?" asked Mrs. Hazeldean. "Sir Archie," said Hester. "He is half across the bay by this time!"

She was a sorry figure for Mrs. Hazeldean's kind eyes to behold. Her face was blackened, her arm bled from the wound made by the bayonet, her clothes were scorched, her hands burned.

mothers, the old men who were no more, and the maidens whom yesterday morning had beheld in their bloom. They had doubted Sir Archie, and held aloof from him. Now that he had suffered, that he had perished, as was supposed, in the flames with their kin, they held him a martyr to their cause, and vowed vengeance on his destroyers. None could tell that Sir Archie had been saved, except the Hazeldeans, Hester, and Pat, the butler. And none of these chose to speak. It was well he should be thought to have perished, so long as there could be danger of his being pursued. For to be suspected in these times was to be held guilty, to be hunted with relentless fury unto death.

So it was believed that Sir Archie had died among his people, his poor whom he had striven so hard to save. Lady Helen Munro and Miss Golden had been rescued by Pierce Humphrey, and escorted to Shane's Castle, where Lord O'Neal lay dying. Miss Madge was also of this melancholy party.

When last we saw Miss Madge she was at work making bullets. Later she betook herself on a sad mission among the crowds of doomed fugitives. In the end she was dragged out of the flames in despite of her own recklessness, torn from an upper room, where she was scorching to death, throwing children out of the windows, with appeals to some soldiers not so fiendish as the rest. Poor Madge had been no beauty at any time of her life, in spite of her declaration made to Hester, that she had grown up well and astonished everybody. But she bore the scars of that night upon her face, till it was hid from public view in her coffin.

Soon it got abroad among the rebels that it was Hester Cashel, the spy, who had wrought all this mischief; who had burned the castle with Sir Archie and his people.

Towards evening on the day after the attack on Glenluce a crowd of rebels assembled on Dr. Hazeldean's lawn. The doctor was again abroad upon his errand of mercy. Mrs. Hazeldean went out and parleyed with the ominous intruders. They were mad with untamed grief, savage with the thirst for vengeance. "The spy!" they demanded. "The spy! We want the spy!"

"What spy?" asked Mrs. Hazeldean. "We have no spy here."

The spy Hester!" they cried. "The cursed English spy who burned our women, and our children, and our master."

"You are terribly mistaken," said Mrs. Hazeldean. "She is not a spy. She had nothing to do with these horrors that have happened, beyond suffering in the midst of them, which she has done bravely."

Bring her out!" they shouted, "or we will burn the house over her head!"

"I will not bring her out," said Mrs. Hazel

She stood bareheaded and defenceless amongst them, in the sunshine of the bright June day. One of the men raised his pike at her with a

menace, but was instantly struck down by his leader.

"Learn manners, you coward!" cried the leader, and then turned to Mrs. Hazeldean.

Madam," he said, "we do not wish to hurt you; but you must give up Hester Cashel, or we burn down your house."

"I will not give her up," said Mrs. Hazeldean, and turned, and walked towards her door.

The rebels marched after her, and pressed into her hall. Then Hester, who was up-stairs, heard them.

She was lying upon a bed in pain, having had leisure to suffer from her wounds. She sprang up, listened, and remembered Pat's warning. She understood the state of the case. She dressed in all haste. Her scorched gown was gone, and she seized a white wrapper of Mrs. Hazeldean's, which was hanging somewhere at band in the room. She thrust her hands through her tangled golden hair, sweeping it from her face. She hastened down the stairs.

A group of the rebels were in the parlour with Mrs. Hazeldean; she striving to pacify them; they chafing and threatening. When Hester appeared a thrill went through all present, for she looked like one risen from the dead. Her face was ghostly; in its ghastly whiteness, and awful look of fear. With the unconscious gesture of pain, she stretched her burned hands piteously before her. But that thrill passed away, and the rage burst forth.

Curses on her picture face!" cried one. "A thousand deaths would be too little for her!" cried another.

"Let me die a thousand deaths in one, then," said Hester; "but do not hurt her," pointing to Mrs. Hazeldean.

The leader of the rebels looked at her with attention. Perhaps he had suffered less than the rest; perhaps for a moment he had doubts as to her guilt. He could feel admiration for her courage and her beauty; and pity for her youth. For a moment. Then the maddening recollection of last night's hideous deed returned.

"Why did you burn our women and children ?" cried he, gnashing his teeth, and stamping. "I did not burn them," said Hester. "I did what I could to save them."

"She lies, with her pale face!" cried some of the rebels. "Seize her, and have done with this!"

Two men laid hold of Hester's arms. She got dizzy, but strove hard to keep her senses and be firm. "I saved him," she thought, "and now I will save her."

'Do not kill me here," she said to one of the men. "Take me a good way off. It would frighten her."

She moved away with her captors, a step; but Mrs. Hazeldean threw herself on her knees before the door.

"Glensmen!" she cried, "for many long years I have loved you and worked amongst All the sympathy of my heart, all the help that was in my power, of my hands and of

you.

my purse, I have given you. If ever I have nursed your children, sat by your sick-beds, prayed with your dying, and streaked out your dead, I call on you, in the name of the God who will one day judge me and judge you, to spare me that innocent girl! If not, you shall drag her hence over my corpse."

The men's countenances changed as they remembered her merciful deeds. Tears of anguish trickled down scowling faces, as other scenes arose before them, conjured up by her sudden impassioned words. And many of the fiercest hung their heads.

The leader looked suddenly up, and scanned them all. He glanced from his band to the two women, from the two women back to his band. Perhaps that suspicion of Hester's innocence grew suddenly within him to a conviction— perhaps Mrs. Hazeldean's words had a special force for him.

"After that, boys," he said, we can do no

CHAPTER XXVIII. HOW EVERYTHING ENDED
HAPPILY.

ALL nightmares pass away. The morning dawns, and the terrible trouble is gone. Every one knows how the rebellion raged in Ireland in the year ninety-eight, but I will not say another word of its horrors in this tale. Glenluce had suffered the worst that could happen to it, and so was left in peace. The doctor's house remained unharmed, and the doctor and his wife pursued their mission of mercy among such of the poor people as survived, who came creeping by-and-by out of their hiding places in the mountains, wandering back to look on the ruins of their homes, to weep on their blackened hearths, and call on Heaven to put an end to their sufferings. A temporary asylum was erected for the houseless, and nurse and physician were at hand.

By this time the North had become quiet, though war still raged in other parts of the country, and it was not certain what the issue might be. A heavy lonesome gloom overhung the glens, that had been so happy, and so homely. Some of the people were re-established in new homes, and some were assisted to emigrate. And it was formally made known that the estates of Sir Archie Munro, who had de

servedly suffered punishment as a rebel, had been legally made over to Judith, Lady Humphrey, as a reward for her exertions in bringing treason to light.

Dr. Hazeldean urged his wife to leave the melancholy country, but so long as there was help to be given she would not quit her home. She looked upon herself as bound-by the mercy the rebels had shown her-to show mercy in return to their kin. Most of the men who had granted her prayer on that memorable day had died a death of torture. She would shield and succour the few they had left behind.

Besides, these good Samaritans had taken Hester under their care. After that terrible scene, when she had been rescued from the rebels, she had fallen into a fever. Her life had been hardly saved by Dr. Hazeldean. Thus had she been twice snatched from death by these friends.

It was not the old Hester who rose from her sick bed. She walked feebly into the glowing August sunshine, and looked upon the ruin she had made. She wondered why she had lived, and hoped to die before long. She was looked on as the spy, whose life had been hardly bought by Mrs. Hazeldean's exertions. She did not even know whether Sir Archie had been saved after all. No message had come from him, no news had been heard of his fate. His fishingboat might not have carried him to an opposite shore. Inquiry were dangerous. It was well, just at present, that the world should think him dead. So there was nothing for those who waited, but patience and suspense.

Poor Hester little knew that she was yet to be a happy woman. Just at this stage of her life she had to battle through a period that was worse than any death. Fire and sword were always before her eyes. In her fever she had raved of them a hundred times a day, and in the nights offering her life to the soldiers, to the rebels, in exchange for the life of Sir Archie, or that of her watchful and tender nurse, Mrs. Hazeldean.

When able to move about, she would sit musing over all that happened, recalling every word which she had written to Lady Humphrey, wondering at her own blindness and simplicity. She accounted herself the murderess of all those people who had perished in the castle.

"I did not do it willingly," she said; "but I did it."

When able to walk far enough, she would toil up the glen, and examine the blackened walls of the castle.

say,

"There is the wall of the tower," she would "where I used to write my letters to Lady Humphrey. Yonder black hole was the window from which we fired our guns."

She would shrink behind Mrs. Hazeldean, when any of the country people met them on the road. She knew how they regarded her. The poorest creature would have shuddered at

her touch.

"I ought to be put to death," she said once. "For taking one life people are made to give up

their own. But I have taken the lives of near a hundred people.".

This was a morbid frame of mind no doubt; but she had to live it through. All Mrs. Hazeldean's loving comfort and gentle preaching could not wear away this horror that kept preying on her mind.

"We

"She will never know peace so long as she remains in this place," said the doctor. must take her away."

دو

In the mean time letters reached them, letters written by Lady Helen, from London, where she was reposing after her terrible experiences, and rather enjoying, in a lugubrious way, her position as a heroine among wondering and sympathising friends.

You know, dear Margaret," she wrote, "I always felt it my duty to look at your eccentric conduct from a charitable point of view. I have often passed over things when, as a sister, I might have advised you to think more of your own dignity. But I must say, that I never shall feel obliged to forgive you, if it be true what people say, that you are harbouring that hateful Hester in your house. The treacherous crcature who has caused the ruin of your family! Of course when they wanted to cut her to pieces before your eyes, it was natural you should in. terfere. Such an occurrence happening in one's parlour would be highly objectionable. But she ought at once have been handed over to the law, like all other people who have been guilty of great crimes. For of course it is ridiculous to say that poor dear Archie was a rebel, though I am sure I always told him he was, and foresaw from the first what would be the end of it. They say that her employer, Judith Humphrey, has got possession of the estates, so doubtless the young wretch, Hester, will receive a handsome dowry as her reward for her services. She will not need to work any longer at her needle. And ah, dear me! how sweetly she could make a dress! I call it a melancholy thing to see such a genius led astray. As for the estates, I intend to go to law about them, as soon as I am strong enough. In the mean time it does not much signify, as there is no one left to pay rent, and the country must be quite a waste. I'm sure I wonder how you can bear to live in it.

"Apropos of Lady Humphrey, I have another shocking piece of news to communicate. Janet Golden, that girl whom I have treated as a daughter, has had the cruelty and audacity to marry the woman's son. Not but what the young man behaved well in saving us from the fire; though I must say he gave my arm a terrible twist when I was struggling very naturally in hysterics, and he insisted on dragging me quite roughly from the room. I never can get over the feeling that he knew all about his mother's wicked plot, though Janet and he both declare he did not. It seems it is quite an old affair between them, and our poor dear Archie -it afflicts me even to mention his name-was only a cat's paw made use of by Miss Janet during a quarrel. I cannot understand it, I