"I feel that myself, sir, and fear that my enquiries will not meet with success. Still, I shall pursue them until I have at least proved that I cannot belong to any well-known branch of the family. I am much obliged to you, for having so courteously answered my questions, and for your offer to give me a list of the various branches of the family."

For the next few minutes, Mr. Kennedy was engaged in making out the list, which he then handed to Desmond.

"And now, sir," the former went on, "that we have finished what we may consider business, will you tell me a little more about yourself? Your story naturally interests me, and I own that I am surprised that a young gentleman who, from what you have told me, cannot be much more than twenty years old, has risen to the rank of captain, in a brigade where so many officers have signally distinguished themselves. Your story, too, is an interesting one, and seems to me in many respects remarkable; and possibly, when I hear more of how you came to be brought up by John O'Carroll, it may throw some light upon the subject."

Desmond gave a detailed account of his life as a boy, and a short sketch of his subsequent adventures.

"A romantic story, young sir," Mr. Kennedy said, when he had finished, "and to whatever family you belong, they should be proud of possessing so gallant a member. You tell me that you have a safe conduct, but you did not mention how you obtained it."

Desmond had abstained from making any allusion, either to the affair with Lord Godolphin, or to that with the Earl of Galway, and he replied:

"Sir, this is a secret that concerns other people, as well as myself, consequently I am not at liberty to explain it. I may say, however, that it was given to me on my engagement that my visit to Ireland was one of a private nature only, and that I would in no way meddle with politics. When I tell you that the Duke of Berwick, himself, granted me the necessary leave of absence, it will prove to you that he, on his part, was well satisfied that the safe conduct had been issued to me without any unworthy offers, on my part, to the Princess Anne's ministers."

After chatting for some time longer, Desmond took his leave and returned to Cork.

Mike was standing at the door of the inn.

"I have had no success, Mike. Have you fared better?"

"I have not found her yet, your honour, but I have great hopes of doing so. Larry Callaghan died four years ago, and the woman of the house she occupied said that Mrs. Rooney moved, with his widow and children, to some other part of the town. She knew little about them, seeing that she only went into the house after they had left; but her husband worked in the same yard as Larry did, and she thought that he would be able to find out, from some of the old hands, where the widow Callaghan had moved to. She said she would ask her husband when he came home to his dinner, and maybe he would be able to give her some news.

"And so, your honour has learned nothing about yourself?"

"Nothing, Mike, except that I am certainly not the son of Murroch Kennedy, who was a cousin of the gentleman I called on. I was assured that he was a single man, when he went to France. However, he gave me a list of the principal branches of the Kennedy family, but there is no hurry about starting to see them, and I will certainly wait here till you find your sister, which should not be many days, for some of Callaghan's fellow workmen are almost sure to know where his widow lives."

Mike went out, at seven o'clock that evening, and returned half an hour later.

"I have got the address, your honour. She and the widow Callaghan have got a little place outside the town, and take in washing there, and are going on nicely."

"I am pleased to hear it, I am sure, Mike. I have but small hope that she will be able to give any useful information, but for your sake, I am glad that you have found a sister whom you have not seen for so many years. I suppose you will go up there, at once."

"I will that. They will have done their work, and we shall have a comfortable talk, whereas she would not thank me if I were to drop in when she was busy at the washtub."

"Well, you might ask her to come down, tomorrow morning, to see me. Of course, she shall not be a loser by giving up her morning's work."

"Whisht, your honour! When she knows how much you have done for me, and how you have treated me, she would willingly lose a week's work to give you pleasure. Well, I will be off at once."

It was eleven o'clock before Mike returned.

"We have had a great talk, your honour, me and Norah. She would not believe at first that I was her brother, and in truth, I found it hard to credit that she was Norah, who was a purty colleen when I saw her last; but when we had convinced each other that we were both who we said we were, matters went on pleasantly. I told her some of my adventures with you, and that, by the same token, I had a hundred gold pieces that the Baron of Pointdexter had given me, sewn up in a belt round my waist, where it has been ever since I got it, except when we went into battle, or on that expedition to Scotland, when, as your honour knows, I always put it in with the agent in your name, seeing that I would rather, if I was killed, know that your honour would have it, instead of its being taken by some villain searching the dead. I told her that, if she and Mrs. Callaghan wanted to take a bigger place, I would share it with her, and that quite settled the matter, in her mind, that I was her brother. She said, as I knew she would, that she would come and talk to you for a week, if you wanted it; and she will be here tomorrow, at nine o'clock."

"That is very satisfactory. I am afraid nothing will come of our talk; but still, one may get a clue to other Kennedys who were present at the siege of Limerick."

Punctually at nine o'clock, Mike ushered his sister into Desmond's sitting room.

"I am glad to see you, Mrs. Rooney. Your brother has been with me for three years, and has rendered me very many services, and I regard him as a friend, rather than as a servant. I am glad that he has found his sister, from whom he had been so long parted."

"Mike has been telling me how good you have been to him, and that he would go through fire and water for you, and that you have had some wonderful adventures together. He said you wanted to speak to me about the siege of Limerick. If there is anything that I can tell you, your honour, I will do so gladly."

"What I want to know is, what Kennedys were at the siege?"

"There was Murroch Kennedy, and Phelim, who was always called 'Red Kennedy', on account of his colour; and James and Fergus. I knew all those, because they were friends of my master's. It may be that there were many others, but they were unbeknown to me."

"Am I like any of them?"

The woman looked at him searchingly.

"You are not, sir; but you are mighty like my master, barring, of course, that he was a man ten years older than yourself. But the more I look at you, the more I see the likeness."

"I did not know that you had a master, Mrs. Rooney. I thought that you were there with your husband."

"So I was, your honour; but when he was kilt I was left alone, saving for a child that had been born a fortnight before; and what with the bad smells of the place, and the sound of the cannon, and the fact of my grief, he pined away all at once, and died a week after me husband. It is well-nigh starving we all were. Even the fighting men had scarce enough food to keep their strength up, and a lone woman would have died from hunger. So I was mighty glad, when a friend of mine told me that there was an officer's lady who had had a baby, and, being but weak and ailing, wanted a foster mother for it; so I went at once and got the place, and was with her for a month.

"Her husband was killed three weeks after I went there, and the blow was too much for her, and she died a week later. A fortnight after that came the peace, and as everything was in confusion, what wid our soldiers all going away to France, and the persecutions and slaughterings, I took the child with me and went down to my cousin Larry's here. Av course, I could not part with it, and I could not make my way alone across the country, so I came down here with the troops. I was not strong myself, and it was a year later before I was able to take it to its friends."

"What was the name of your master?" Desmond asked eagerly, for her last words had excited a sudden train of ideas in his mind.

"He was Mr. James O'Carroll, a great gentleman, and the head of his family."

Desmond sprang to his feet.

"That explains it all!" he exclaimed. "Mrs. Rooney, I have no doubt that I am your foster child."

"Why, how can that be, your honour, seeing as your name is Kennedy? Though, except for that, you might well be so, seeing that you are so like my master."

"At any rate, Mrs. Rooney, I was reared at Kilkargan, at the expense of John O'Carroll, and was, as I heard, brought there by a woman when I was a year old. O'Carroll said that my name was Desmond Kennedy, but I had only his word for it."

"Then how is it that you are not master of Kilkargan, for if you are Mr. James O'Carroll's son, it is you that ought to be? I have always thought of you as there. I have not been in the way of getting news. I left my address with Mr. John, but I never heard from him, or you. I thought, perhaps, that he might have lost the address, but I never dreamt that you had been kept out of your own."

"I don't know that I can say that, altogether," Desmond said; "for, if it had been known that James O'Carroll had left an heir, his estates would certainly have been confiscated; whereas, owing to his brother's turning Protestant, and joining the Williamites, he was allowed to keep possession of them. I can understand now what seemed so strange, namely, that he feared I might somehow learn that I was his nephew, and heir to the estates. Therefore, he behaved as if I was the son of a stranger, and when I was old enough, sent me off to join the Irish Brigade, in hopes that he had seen the last of me; for, even if not killed, I should never be able to set foot in Ireland again after fighting for France. 'Tis strange that none of my father's brother officers ever made any enquiries about it."

"They all went with the army to France, sir. They knew, of course, that the child was born, though they may never have seen you, for the mistress never left her bed after you were born. Naturally, after her death they lost sight of me, and might well have believed that the child had died."

"You must give me the names of all the officers who came to the house, Mrs. Rooney. Many of them may be alive still, and their testimony that a child was born would be most important, for at present there is only your word against John O'Carroll's."

"There is more than that, sir. You were baptized on the day she died. My mistress gave me the paper the priest had given to her, saying that it was of the greatest importance to you, and that I was to give it to Mr. John O'Carroll when, as I promised, I took the child to him."

"And did you give it him?" Desmond asked eagerly.

"No, your honour. I took it with me to the castle, but from the reception I got, I thought it best to say nothing about it, but to give it to yourself when you were old enough. I have got it at home now. There it is, certifying that Gerald O'Carroll, the son of James O'Carroll and his wife Elizabeth, was baptized by him on the 6th of September, 1692."

"That is fortunate, indeed," Desmond exclaimed. "And now, tell me how this uncle of mine received you."

"Faith, your honour, he was mightily put out, at first. He said that I was an impostor, and that he would have me given in charge. I told him that I had proofs that what I said was true, and that there were many gentlemen, brother officers of Mr. James, who would speak for me, and say in court that a son was born to his brother before he died. He wanted to get out of me what proofs I had, and who were the officers; but I told him that was my business. Then he cooled down, and after a time he said that, if he were to let it be known that Mr. James had left a son, the estate would surely be confiscated, seeing that his father died as a rebel fighting against the king; but that, as soon as the persecutions had ceased, and it would be safe to do so, he would say who the child was, and give him his rightful place. That seemed reasonable enough, and so I left you with him, and have always supposed that he kept his word; and that, as soon as it was safe, he acknowledged you to be master of your father's estate."

"And now, Mrs. Rooney, I must think matters over, and see how I had best proceed. I feel how much I owe to you, and, if I recover my estates, you shall see that I am not ungrateful. Will you come again tomorrow morning, and bring with you the certificate of my baptism, and all the names that you can recollect of the officers who were intimate with my father?"



Chapter 20: Gerald O'Carroll.

Mike, who had remained silent during the conversation between his sister and Desmond, returned to the room after seeing her out.

"Well, Mike, you have rendered me many services, but this is the greatest of all. Little did I think, when you said you had found your sister, and that she was coming to me this morning, that she would be able to clear up the mystery of my birth, and to place me in a position to prove myself a son of James O'Carroll. I do not say that I shall regain the estates. My having been in the Brigade will certainly render it difficult for me to do so, though possibly, with the patronage of Lord Godolphin, I may succeed. For that, however, I care comparatively little. My object, in coming here, was to obtain proof that I belong to a good Irish family, and that I have no doubt I shall be able to establish."

"And what am I to call you, your honour, now that I know you are Captain Gerald O'Carroll, and not Desmond Kennedy, at all?"

"At any rate, I must remain Desmond Kennedy at present, Mike. It is under that name that my safe conduct was made out, and if I were arrested as Gerald O'Carroll, it would be no protection to me. However, I shall not want to use it long, for it seems to me that my first step must be to return to France, and to see some of the officers who knew my father, and were aware of my birth. Their testimony would be of great value, and without it there would be little chance of your sister's evidence being believed."

"But there is the paper, your honour."

"Yes; that will show that a child was born, but the proof that I am that child rests entirely with your sister. It might have died when its mother did, and they would say that your sister was trying to palm off her own child, or someone else's, as his. Of course, Mrs. Callaghan would be able to prove that your sister arrived immediately after the surrender of Limerick, bringing a child with her, and that she said it was the son of James O'Carroll; and that she went a year later to Kilkargan, and left it there with John O'Carroll. Moreover, I could get plenty of evidence, from those on the estate, that I was the child so left."

"The likeness that Norah saw between you and your father might be taken as a proof, sir."

"I did not think of that, Mike. Yes, if some of these officers will also testify to the likeness, it will greatly strengthen my case. The chain of evidence seems pretty strong. First, there is the certificate of my baptism, your sister's declaration that I was entrusted to her by my mother on her deathbed, supported by Mrs. Callaghan's declaration that three weeks later she arrived in Cork with the child, which she told her was that of James O'Carroll; your sister's declaration that she took me to Kilkargan and handed me over to my uncle, which would be supported by the evidence of the woman he first placed me with; while the servants of the castle could prove that I was brought by a woman who, an hour later, left the castle without speaking to anyone but my uncle.

"John O'Carroll will find it difficult to explain why he took me in, and who is the Kennedy of whom I was the son, and what service he had rendered for him, a Protestant and a Williamite, to have undertaken the charge of the child of a rebel. There is no doubt that the weight of evidence is all on my side, but whether the judges would decide in favour of the son of a rebel, as against a friend of the English party, is doubtful. Possibly Lord Godolphin's influence might be exerted in my favour. He promised in his letter to me to do me any service in his power. Still, even if I lose the estate, which I may well do on the ground of my father having fought and died for the cause of James the Second, I should still have the satisfaction of establishing my name, which I consider of more importance than the estates."

"Sure, your honour, it's a grand thing to belong to a good old Irish stock; but for myself, I would rather be Mike Callaghan and have a fine estate, than Mike O'Neil without an acre of land."

Desmond smiled.

"There is common sense in what you say, Mike, but there is nothing more unpleasant than, when you are with a number of Irish gentlemen or Spanish grandees, who are equally proud of their ancestors, to be unable to give any account of your family, or even to be sure that you have a right to the name that you bear."

"Well, your honour, it is a matter of taste. As for myself, if the whisky is good, it makes no differ to me whether they call it Cork or Dublin, or whether it is made up in the mountains and has sorra a name at all."

The next morning, Mrs. Rooney returned with the certificate of baptism, and a list containing some twenty names of officers who had been frequent visitors at James O'Carroll's. Among these Desmond, to his satisfaction, found Arthur Dillon, Walter Burke, Nicholas Fitzgerald, and Dominic Sheldon, all of whom now held the rank of general in the French service, and to all of whom he was personally known, having met them either when with Berwick or in Spain.

"Those names are good enough," he said. "And if they can testify to my likeness to my father, it will go a long way towards furnishing proof, when required. All of them entered the service under the provisions of the treaty of Limerick, and therefore their testimony cannot be treated as that of traitors; and their names must be as well known in England as in France.

"Now, Mike, our business here is, for the present, concluded. I shall at once return to France, see all these officers who are still alive, and obtain, if possible, their recognition. As I have a year's leave, I can travel about as I choose. Then I shall decide whether I shall commence an action in the courts, or whether I shall first go over to England, see Lord Godolphin, explain the circumstances to him, and ask for his protection and patronage.

"I suppose the case would be tried at Dublin, where the judges are all creatures of England, and there can be no doubt that a notification, from Godolphin, that he considered my claim to be a good one, and was favourable to it, would have no slight influence with them; and would counteract, to some extent, the fact of my uncle's being a Protestant, and what they would consider a loyal man. Before beginning an action, I should certainly communicate with my uncle, and call upon him to resign in my favour; for I would avoid the scandal of proving an O'Carroll to be a scoundrel, as well as a traitor. As it has turned out, the step which he thought would disembarrass him of me has had the other effect, for, if I had not gone out to France, I should never have been troubled by questions about my family; and should not have met you, Mike, or known of the existence of your sister, the only person who could clear up the matter.

"I shall begin to think what O'Neil and O'Sullivan used to say, that my luck would carry me through anything; and certainly, at present, it has been marvellous."

"Which way will we go back, your honour?"

"Not the way we came, if we can help it. We were nearly a month coming from Genoa, and might have been twice as long, if the wind had not been fairly favourable. I think our best plan will be to take passage by sea to London. There we shall have no difficulty in finding a vessel bound for Rotterdam, or the Hague. Then we will buy horses, and ride along by the Rhine. If we can get through Luxembourg into France we will do so, but I think it will perhaps be best to go on through Switzerland, and pass the frontier somewhere near Lyons, where we shall be but a short distance from Berwick's headquarters in Dauphiny."

A month later, they rode into the duke's camp. They had, on leaving Toulon, packed up their uniforms and sent them to the care of a friend on the general's staff. To his quarters they first went, and having changed his civilian costume for a military one, Desmond waited on the duke.

"Why, Captain Kennedy," the duke said, in surprise; "I did not look to see you again, so soon. Have you been over to Ireland?"

"I have, sir, and though there only a few days, gained information that necessitated my return here. I have found out that the name I go by is not mine, and that my proper name is Gerald O'Carroll."

"The son of Major James O'Carroll, who fought by my side at the Boyne, and was through the first siege of Limerick with me! That explains it. Your face has often puzzled me. It seemed to me that I recognized it, and yet I could not recall whose face it was that it resembled so strongly. Now you tell me, I know at once. Your father, when I first knew him, was a few years older than you are; but he had the same figure, face, and expression.

"And so, you are his son! By what miracle have you discovered your relationship to him?"

Desmond, or as he should now be called, Gerald, related as briefly as possible the manner in which he had discovered his parentage.

"Your uncle must be a thorough villain," the duke said, hotly. "That he was a traitor we all knew, but that he should thus rob his brother's son of his inheritance is monstrous and unnatural."

"I am glad, indeed, sir, that you have thus recognized me. Your testimony will go for much, even in an English court, and I hope to receive a similar recognition from the officers who were intimate with my father in the second siege, and whose names I have here."

The duke glanced down the list.

"Well-nigh half of them are still alive," he said, "and all of them are men of rank and repute, whose word would be taken even by an enemy. How do you mean to proceed? Because I am afraid that, even if we could spare them, there would be some difficulty about their making their appearance in a court, in either England or Ireland."

"I quite see that that is out of the question. All I can hope for is, that such of them as recognize my likeness to my father will draw up a paper saying so, and will attest it before a notary, having as witnesses men of weight and honour equal to their own. The production of such certificates could not but have a strong influence in my favour."

"I will most willingly sign such a document," the duke said, "and four of my best-known generals can sign as witnesses to my signature."

"I thank you most heartily, sir. Such a document should, in itself, be considered as ample proof of my strong resemblance to my father."

"That may or may not be," the duke said, "but do not be content with that. Get as many of the others as possible to make similar declarations. One man may see a likeness where another does not, but if a dozen men agree in recognizing it, their declarations must have a great weight. Certainly no Irish judge would doubt the testimony of so many men, whose families and whose deeds are so well known to them."

From Dauphiny, Gerald travelled first into Spain, and the three Irish officers there whose names were on his list all recognized the likeness, even before he told them his name. He put the question to them in a general way.

"I have learned, sir, that the name I bear is not my own, that I am the son of an officer who was killed in the siege of Limerick. May I ask you if you can recognize any likeness between myself and any officer with whom you were well acquainted there?"

In each case, after a little consideration, they declared that he must be the son of James O'Carroll. All remembered that their comrade's wife had borne a son, shortly before the end of the siege. They remembered her death, but none had heard what became of the child, for in the excitement of the closing scenes, and of the preparation for the march immediately afterwards, they had had little time on their hands, and it was hitherto supposed that it had, like so many other infants, perished miserably. They willingly signed documents, similar to that which he had received from Berwick.

He met with almost equal success on the northern frontier, only two out of eight officers failing to identify him by his likeness; until he mentioned his name, when they, too, acknowledged that, now they recalled James O'Carroll's face, they saw that the likeness was a striking one.

Having obtained these documents, he resumed civilian attire, and, riding by crossroads, passed through Flanders to Sluys, without coming in contact with any body of the allied troops. There he had no difficulty in obtaining a passage to London, and on his arrival called upon Lord Godolphin, who received him cordially.

"So you have utilized your safe conduct, Captain Kennedy. I am glad to see my former captor, and I am as grateful as ever to you for the silence you maintained as to that affair. If it had been known to my enemies, I should never have heard the last of it. They would have made me such a laughingstock that I could scarcely have retained office.

"Now, what can I do for you?"

"It is a long story, my lord."

"Then I cannot listen to it now; but if you will sup with me here, at nine o'clock this evening, I shall be glad to hear it. I am so harassed by the backstair intrigues of my enemies, that it would be a relief to me to have something else to think of."

Gerald returned at the appointed time. Nothing was said as to his affairs while supper was served, but after the table had been cleared, decanters of port placed on the table, and the servants had retired, Godolphin said:

"Now, Captain Kennedy, let us hear all about it."

Gerald related the history of his younger days, and of the manner in which he had discovered his real parentage, producing the certificate of his baptism, a statement which had been drawn up at Cork and signed by Norah Rooney, and the testimony of the Duke of Berwick and the other Irish officers.

"There can be no doubt whatever, in the mind of any fair man," Lord Godolphin said, after listening attentively to the whole story, and examining the documents, "that your uncle, John O'Carroll, is a villain, and that you have been most unjustly deprived of your rights. I know him by name, and from the reports of our agents in Ireland, as one of the men who turned his coat and changed his religion to save his estates. Those men I heartily despise; while those who gave up all, and went into exile in order, as they believed, there to serve the cause of their rightful sovereign, are men to be admired and respected. Be assured that justice shall be done you. Of course, you will take action in the courts?"

"I shall first summon him to give up the estate, shall let him know that I have indisputable evidence to prove that I am the son of his elder brother, and shall say that, if he will give up possession peaceably, I will take no further steps in the matter, for the sake of the family name. If he refuses, as I fear is probable, I must then employ a lawyer."

"Yes, and a good one. I will furnish you with letters to the lord lieutenant, and to Lord Chief Justice Cox, strongly recommending you to them, and requesting the latter to appoint one of the law officers of the crown to take up your case. I should say that, when this John O'Carroll sees that you have such powerful friends, he will perceive that it is hopeless for him to struggle in so bad a cause, and will very speedily accept your terms, though methinks it is hard that so great a villain should go unpunished.

"Now, it will be as well that you should have something stronger than the safe conduct that I sent you. I will therefore draw out a document for Her Majesty to sign, granting you a full and free pardon for any offences that you may have committed against her and the realm, and also settling upon you the estates to which you are the rightful heir, in and about the barony of Kilkargan; being influenced in so doing by the great services rendered by you, both to Her Majesty's well-beloved and faithful minister and counsellor, myself, and to her trusty general, the Earl of Galway.

"The queen is not very likely to ask the nature of the service. Unless it be something that concerns herself, she asks but few questions, and signs readily enough the documents laid before her. If she asks what are the offences for which she grants her pardon, I shall say, when but a boy you were maliciously sent abroad to join the Irish Brigade by your uncle, who wished thus to rid himself of you altogether, and who had foully wronged you by withholding your name, from you and all others. I shall also add that you have distinguished yourself much, and have gained the friendship of her half brother, the Duke of Berwick; and you know that the queen, in her heart of hearts, would rather that her brother, whom you Jacobites call James the Third, should succeed her than the Elector of Hanover, for whom she has no love."

"I thank you greatly, indeed, my lord. Never was a man so amply rewarded for merely holding his tongue."

"It was not only that, sir. It was your conduct in general to me. You might have left me tied up in that house, to be found in the morning, and to be made the jest of the town; instead of which, you yourself conducted and guarded me hither, and so contrived it that no whisper spread abroad that I had been carried off between Saint James's and my own house. You trusted to my honour, in not causing a pursuit of you to be set on foot, and behaved in all ways as a gallant young gentleman, and certainly gained my high esteem, both for the daring and ingenuity with which you carried out your plans for obtaining a passage to France, and for your personal conduct towards myself.

"Where are you lodging?"

"At the Eagle, hard by the Abbey."

"Remain there, until you hear from me. Do not be impatient. I must choose my time, when either the queen is in a good temper, or is in such a hurry to get rid of me, in order to plot and gossip with Mistress Harley, who is now her prime favourite, that she is ready to sign any document I may lay before her."

Feeling that his cause was as good as won, Gerald returned in high spirits to his inn, where he delighted Mike by relating how the great minister had promised to forward his suit.

"Ah, your honour, it will be a grand day when you take possession of Kilkargan—bonfires and rejoicing of all sorts, and lashings of drink. Won't all the boys in the barony be glad to be free from the traitor, and to have the true heir come to be their master. None the less glad will be my sister."

"You must fetch her from Cork, Mike. It is owing to her that I am alive, and it will be owing to her if I recover the estate. She shall have the place of honour on the occasion, though all the gentry in the neighbourhood are there. When I tell them what she has done for me, they will say that she well deserves the honour!"

"And you will go no more to the wars, Captain O'Carroll?"

"No, Mike. I have been but three years in the French army, but I have seen enough of fighting, and, worse still, of fighting against men of our own nation. Besides, if the queen grants me the estates of my father, I shall consider myself bound in honour not to draw my sword against her, or to mix myself up in any plot or conspiracy, but to remain strictly neutral whatever may be going on. Indeed, the more I think of it, the more I doubt whether it would be for the good of Ireland did the Stuarts return to the throne. It could only be done at a further cost of blood and misery. The old religious quarrels would break out more fiercely than ever, there would be risings and civil wars, confiscations and massacres, whichever side happened to get the upper hand. That James the Third is the lawful sovereign of the three kingdoms, I shall always uphold, but there are cases when it is to the benefit of the country, at large, that there should be a change in the succession."

"Sure that may be so, your honour; and yet, it is hard that a man should be kept out of his own."

"No doubt it is hard; but it is far harder that thousands of people should be killed, and tens of thousands ruined, for the sake of one man."

"So it is, sir. So it is, sure enough, when one comes to think of it. Ireland has suffered mightily in the cause of the Stuarts, and I don't suppose that, if King James succeeded to the throne, his English ministers would let him turn out all the men who have taken the places and lands of the old families."

"That they certainly would not, Mike. When Charles the Second returned from exile, all those who had fought and suffered for him thought that they would recover their estates, and turn out Cromwell's men, to whom they had been granted. But they were disappointed. The king found that he could not make so great a change, without upsetting the whole country, and that an attempt to do so would cost him his crown; and you may be sure that James would find an equal difficulty, were he to come to the throne."

"Well, well, your honour, you know more of such matters than I do; but I have no doubt that you are right. I am sure we don't want the bad times to come over again, in Ireland."

Three days later, Gerald received a message from Lord Godolphin, saying that he wished to see him; and, on going to his house, the minister handed to him the paper with the full pardon, and the confirmation of his ownership in his father's estates; together with a letter to the lord lieutenant, and the Lord Chief Justice Cox.

The next day, he took ship for Dublin, and on arriving there presented his letters, and was well received by those to whom they were directed.

The lord lieutenant said:

"It is enough for me, Mr. O'Carroll, that Lord Godolphin speaks of you in such high terms, and I question not that he has thoroughly satisfied himself as to your right to these estates. At the same time, I should be glad if you will give me a brief outline of how it is that you never claimed them before, though perhaps it is as well that you did not do so, for, until the passions excited by the war had somewhat subsided, a friend of the Government would hardly have interposed for the benefit of the son of one who had died fighting for James."

Gerald had drawn up three copies of a statement containing a precis of the case, and he handed one of these to the lord lieutenant, saying:

"As the story is a somewhat long one, my lord, I have written it down, in order that you might read it at your leisure."

"I will certainly do so, Mr. O'Carroll. I should like to be personally acquainted with the details of the matter. It will doubtless excite a considerable stir. It is, I believe, the first time that a supporter of the Government has had to defend his title against one of the family that fought on the other side."

"It is hardly a case of royalist and rebel, sir, but the deliberate action of a man suppressing all knowledge of the existence of his own nephew, in order that he might himself obtain the property of his dead brother.

"I have no doubt that, had it been known that I was in existence, I should still have been thrust aside in order to reward his adhesion to the cause of William, but that would have made his position intolerable. As one who has changed his religion and his politics, he is regarded as a traitor by the people of the barony, and avoided by all the gentry round; but the feeling would have been infinitely stronger, if it had been known that he was keeping his own nephew out of his inheritance. My father was, as I understand, immensely popular, and I doubt whether his brother would have dared to show his face within fifty miles of Kilkargan, had it been known that not only was he a traitor, but a usurper."

The lord lieutenant smiled.

"I am not surprised at your warmth, Mr. O'Carroll; but, unfortunately, your case is not a solitary one. There are thousands of men in Ireland who have suffered for the deeds of their fathers. However, I shall understand the case better when I have read your statement."

It was evident to Gerald that the lord chief justice, who had taken a leading part in the prosecution and punishment of persons known to be favourable to the Jacobite cause, was not altogether pleased with Lord Godolphin's letter.

"A strange affair," he said. "A strange and, as it appears to me, an unfortunate business.

"However, sir," he went on, with a changed tone; "I shall certainly do my best to see justice done, in accordance with his lordship's request. I will read carefully through this statement of your claim, and, after considering it, place it in the hands of the crown lawyers.

"But it seems to me that your own position here is a strange one, and that you yourself are liable to arrest, as a member of a family whose head was one of the late king's strongest adherents."

"My own position, sir, is regulated by this document, bearing the signature of the queen and her chief minister;" and he laid the official paper before Cox.

"That certainly settles that question," the latter said, after perusing it. "Of course I shall, for my own satisfaction, read your statement; but I do not wish to see any documents or proofs you may possess in the matter. These you must, of course, lay before your counsel. I think I can't do better than give you a letter to Mr. Counsellor Fergusson, with whom you can go into all particulars, and who will advise you as to the course that you had best take."

Mr. Fergusson, although one of the crown lawyers, enjoyed a wide reputation, even among the Jacobite party, for the moderation and the fairness with which he conducted the crown cases placed in his hands. He had less employment than his colleagues, for only cases in which the evidence of acts of hostility to the crown were indisputable were committed to him, it having been found that he was unwilling to be a party to calling doubtful witnesses, or to using the means that were, in the majority of cases, employed to obtain convictions.

The lord chief justice's letter to him was as follows:

Dear Mr. Counsellor Fergusson:

I have been requested, by Lord Godolphin, to place the case of the bearer of this letter in good hands, and cannot better carry out his request than by asking you to act in the matter. Lord Godolphin has expressed himself most strongly as to the justness of his claim. The bearer's father was, he states, James O'Carroll, a noted rebel who was killed at the siege of Limerick. This alone would, it might have been thought, have proved a bar to any action on his part against the present possessor of the property; but he is the bearer of a document, signed by the queen herself, reinstating him in all rights he may possess, notwithstanding the actions of his father or of himself. It is not for me to make any comment upon the royal document, though I may say that I fear it may give rise to other suits, and alarm many loyal subjects who have become possessed of confiscated estates. However, we must hope that this will not be so, as it is expressly stated that, in this instance, the pardon and restoration of rights are given in consideration of services rendered by this young gentleman to Lord Godolphin himself, and to the Earl of Galway. What the nature of these services may have been does not concern me.

Gerald carried this letter to the address indicated, and on saying that he was the bearer of a letter from the lord chief justice, he was at once shown into the counsellor's room. The latter, a man of some fifty-five years old, with features that told of his Scottish extraction, with keen eyes and a kindly face, took the letter which Gerald presented to him, and begged him to be seated while he read it. As he glanced through it, a look of surprise came across his face, and he read the letter carefully, and then looked at Gerald keenly.

"You are fortunate in having such good friends, Mr. O'Carroll," he said. "Before I go into the case, will you let me know something about yourself? You are, I take it, some twenty years of age?"

"I am but a few months past nineteen."

"By your figure, I should have put you as three years older; by your face, two years. You must have been fortunate, indeed, to have gained the protection both of Lord Godolphin and the Earl of Galway. No less than this would have sufficed to gain for you this rescript of Her Majesty.

"And now, sir, please to give me an outline of your case, as to the nature of which I am, at present, entirely ignorant."

"I have put it down in writing, sir," Gerald said, handing him the third copy of his statement.

"It will take me some time to read this, Mr. O'Carroll, and I would rather do so alone, and ask you any question that may occur to me afterwards. Will you therefore call upon me again, in an hour's time?"

Upon Gerald's return, the counsellor said:

"It is a strange story, Mr. O'Carroll, and a very disgraceful one. You allude, I see, to testimonies of Irish officers in the French service as to your likeness to the late Mr. James O'Carroll. Will you please let me see them?"

"Here they are, sir, together with a sworn statement by my nurse."

The lawyer read the documents through carefully.

"The testimony of the Duke of Berwick, and of the other honourable and well-known Irish gentlemen, as to the striking likeness between yourself and Mr. James O'Carroll, cannot but carry immense weight in the minds of all unprejudiced persons. They prove too, conclusively, that James O'Carroll left an infant boy behind him, and the statement of the nurse goes a long way to prove you are that son; and I think that this is substantiated by the conduct of John O'Carroll; first in receiving you and undertaking your care; secondly, in the neglect, and I should almost say the dislike, he manifested towards the child he had sheltered; and thirdly, in the extraordinary step that he, a professedly loyal subject of Her Majesty, took in sending you off to enlist in the brigade composed of the devoted adherents of the son of James the Second.

"No doubt, at any rate, can arise that you are the child brought by this Mrs. Rooney to Kilkargan. That can be proved beyond all question; and the fact that your nurse was sent off without having any conversation save with John O'Carroll himself, would show how anxious he was that no one but himself should know her errand.

"I must say that you have shown great acumen in mustering evidence, of all kinds, that would bear upon the question. I say frankly that, without this royal rescript, and the influence of these two noblemen, your chance, as James O'Carroll's son, of wresting your patrimony from the hands of your uncle would be small indeed. Politics have, much more than facts, to do with decisions here; but with such powerful credentials, and with the chief minister of England interfering on your behalf, I think that there is no great doubt that you will secure a judgment in your favour. When the facts are known, the feeling of the greater portion of the population will run strongly with you, and against this unnatural uncle of yours."

"I should be desirous, if possible, sir, of avoiding a public trial that would bring discredit upon the name of my family, and would, in the eyes of the supporters of the present Government, act prejudicially to myself."

"You are quite right. How do you propose to proceed?"

"I was thinking, sir, of sending a statement to my uncle, similar to that which I laid before you, going somewhat further into details, and promising that, if he would surrender the property to me and publicly acknowledge me as his nephew, giving what reason he chose for having so long concealed his knowledge of the fact, I would take no proceedings against him, and would do my best to prevent any discredit falling upon him."

"That would do very well," the lawyer said, "but I should abstain from making any allusion to the protectors you have gained. He will learn that soon enough, and it will be well to see what his first impulse is. Do not mention the names of the Duke of Berwick and the others, who have testified to your likeness to your late father. Simply say that many of his comrades have recognized your likeness to him. It is of no use showing him all the cards we have to play. I should not send the letter by post, but by hand. If you like, I will despatch one of my own messengers down with it, with instructions to bring back an answer, but not to say anything, if questioned, as to his being in my employment."

The next morning, the messenger started by coach for Kilkargan. He returned four days later, bearing John O'Carroll's answer. It read as follows:

Sir:

I have received your audacious letter, and proclaim you to be an impostor, worthy of the severest punishment for attempting to personate a son of my late brother. However, for the sake of my friendship for Mr. Kennedy, your father, I give you twenty-four hours to leave the country, before laying any information against you, both as an impostor and as a rebel who has served against the armies of Her Majesty. I shall, however, at once apply for a writ ordering your arrest, which will be served upon you within twenty-four hours of your receipt of this communication. I shall also have this woman, your pretended nurse, arrested for perjury and conspiracy.

Gerald took this letter to the counsellor.

"That is exactly what I expected," he said, after reading it. "It shows the man in his true colours. We shall see what he says when he learns who are employed against him, and what protection you have obtained. My opinion is that, before many hours have passed, you will receive a letter in a different strain. I consider it by no means improbable that the lord chief justice will have written to him privately, warning him that you have received a full pardon, and are restored to all your rights, and that you are strongly supported by Lord Godolphin, who has written to him and the lord lieutenant in your favour; that you have also the protection of the Earl of Galway, an officer who possesses the confidence of Her Majesty; and that the Duke of Berwick, and many of the best-known Irish officers in the service of France, have all given their testimony, in the most positive manner, of your likeness to James O'Carroll, whom they knew intimately; and will say that, at the request of Lord Godolphin that the matter should be placed in the hands of one of the crown lawyers, it has been submitted to me; and that in my opinion, which I wrote him after our interview, a decision in your favour is inevitable; and strongly advising him to make the best compromise with you in his power."

The same evening, indeed, a mounted messenger, who had ridden posthaste from Kilkargan, arrived with another letter from John O'Carroll. It began:

My Dear Nephew:

I wrote yesterday in haste, on the receipt of your communication. It seemed to me that you were rushing on destruction, by avowing yourself to be the son of my brother James; and that you would be liable to be arrested as a Jacobite agent in the service of France. Therefore, I wrote the letter that I did in hopes that you would leave the country, for the time had not yet arrived when you could safely be recognized by me as the rightful owner of Kilkargan. I have heard, however, that you have received a full pardon for past offences, and a restitution of your rights, and I am only too glad to be able to retire from the false position in which I was placed, and by which I incurred the hostility and dislike of my neighbours and tenants. As you know, I have lived an almost solitary life here, and have spent far less than the income of the estate. I am well aware that, acting as I have done as your trustee, you have a right to demand from me an account of the rents I have received; but I trust that you will not press this matter, as you'll at once come in for the receipt of the rents; and I shall be enabled to live in comfort, in Dublin, upon the savings I have effected, and a small property I received as a younger brother's portion.

You will, of course, understand why, during your stay here, I refrained from any outward demonstrations of affection for you. I felt that suspicions might have arisen, had I not done so, that you were my brother's son, in which case the estate would surely have been confiscated. Seeing that the bent of your inclinations was for an active and stirring life, and as the English army was barred to you, I thought it best that you should go abroad, and so be out of the way until the time should come when matters would so quieten down, in Ireland, that my influence might avail to secure an indemnity for you for serving in France, and enable me to hand over your estate to you.

Your affectionate uncle, John O'Carroll.

Gerald laughed aloud as he read the letter.

"Is it good news, your honour?" Mike, who happened to be busy in the room, asked.

"Nothing could be better. My dear uncle has heard that Lord Godolphin and the Earl of Galway have become my patrons, that the queen has restored to me my rights, and Mr. Counsellor Fergusson has taken up my case. He therefore declares that, as it was always his intention to restore the estate to me, as soon as I could safely return, he is now ready to do so, and only hopes that I will not insist upon his handing over the back rents; which, indeed, I question whether I could do, as the estate was granted to him, personally, by the Government.

"However, of course I shall not press that. I shall be only too glad to obtain possession without the scandal of having to show, in the public courts, that my father's brother was a villain."

"The ould fox!" Mike exclaimed indignantly. "I felt sure, when you told me what the counsellor had said, that he would wriggle out of it somehow. I would give all the gold pieces I have in my belt for half an hour's talk with him, with a good shillelah!"

"Well, we can afford to let bygones be bygones, Mike. And after all, he did me a service, unwittingly, in sending me over to France. In the first place, I had three years of stirring life; in the next, I have made many good friends, and have gained the patronage of two powerful noblemen, without which I should have assuredly never come in for Kilkargan at all."

"That is true for you, your honour. And without it, I might be still a private in O'Brien's regiment, instead of being your honour's body servant."

"And friend, Mike."

"Yes, sir, as you are good enough to say so."

Mr. Fergusson put John O'Carroll's letter down, with a gesture of disgust, after he had read it.

"It is what might have been expected from such a man," he said. "A traitor to the cause he once adhered to, false to his religion, and a usurper of his nephew's rights.

"At any rate, Mr. O'Carroll, I congratulate you. It has prevented a grievous scandal from being made public, and the large expenditure entailed by such a case. You have now only to go down and take possession."

"I shall write to my uncle, and give him a week to clear out, and to make what explanation he chooses of the change."

Gerald wrote at once to his uncle. It was coldly worded, and showed unmistakably that he was, in no way, deceived by the professions in his letter. He told him that he considered it fair that he should retain the savings he had made, as he had personally been confirmed in the ownership of Kilkargan, the Government being ignorant that his brother had left a son. He said that he thought it would be more pleasant, for both of them, that they should not meet, and wished, therefore, that he would leave, before his arrival to take possession.

John O'Carroll at once summoned the tenants, and astonished them by informing them that, he was glad to say, he was free at last to lay down the position he had held as owner of Kilkargan. That his brother James had left a son, whom they all knew as Desmond Kennedy, but whom he had been obliged to treat with coldness, lest suspicions should be excited as to his identity. Had this been known, he would assuredly have been proscribed as the son of a rebel, and debarred by law from any inheritance. He was delighted to say that the time had come when he could publicly acknowledge him, and place him in possession of the estate, as Her Majesty had granted him a special indemnity against the pains and penalties incurred by his father's act of rebellion and treason, and had restored to him his full rights.

A burst of cheering, such as had not been heard in Kilkargan since James O'Carroll rode out, at the head of a troop raised among his tenantry, to fight for King James, greeted the announcement; and, for the first time since that event, John O'Carroll was, for the moment, popular. Subsequent reflection, and their knowledge of his character, soon dissipated that feeling; but in their joy at the announced approaching arrival of their new master, John O'Carroll rode away, with his followers, without the manifestation of hostility that would otherwise have attended his departure.

Bonfires blazed all over the barony when Gerald rode in, accompanied by Mike. The tenants, and a number of the gentry who had known him when a boy, assembled at the castle to meet him; and even his father could not have met with a more enthusiastic welcome than that which was given him.

The next day, Gerald wrote to the Duke of Berwick, telling him what had taken place, and resigning his commission in the Irish Brigade.

"I intend," he said, "to abstain from all part in politics. Although no condition was made, in my pardon for serving abroad and in the restoration of my estate, I feel that, having accepted these favours, I must hold myself aloof from all plots against Queen Anne, though my heart will still be with him whom I hold to be my lawful sovereign. Unless a large army from France was landed here, I believe that any attempt at his restoration would only bring down fresh misery upon Ireland. But, should a force land that would render success almost a certainty, I should then, with the great bulk of my countrymen, join it."

In due time he received an answer, approving the course he had taken.

"I myself," the Duke said, "am under no delusions. With the ten regiments of the Irish Brigade, twenty thousand French troops, and arms sufficient to distribute to the whole country, I believe that Ireland and Scotland might again come under the rule of the Stuarts; but nothing short of such a force would be of any avail. So convinced was I of this that, in 1691, after the successful defence of Limerick, I saw that the cause was for the time lost, and that further resistance would only prove disastrous to Ireland. I therefore resigned my command, and went over to France to serve as a volunteer, and took no part in the war at home. Therefore, I think that you are fully justified in the course you have taken. When the present war, which I think is approaching its end, terminates, and you can again visit France, I trust that I shall see you; and I am sure that you will receive the heartiest of welcomes from your comrades in the Brigade."

Gerald followed out strictly the line he had laid down for himself, and kept aloof from the plots and conspiracies that, for years, agitated the country, entailing disaster upon all concerned in them. Mike was installed as his body servant, and majordomo of his household; and Norah Rooney as housekeeper at the castle.

Three years later, in 1713, the treaty of Utrecht brought the war to an end. Communications being restored between the two countries, Gerald wrote to the Baron de Pointdexter, and told him of the changes which had taken place in his position. He received a warm letter in reply, urging him to go over and pay him and his son-in-law a visit.

But Gerald had had enough of travelling, and wrote to say that he could not leave his estate, as there was much to look after. Letters were, however, frequently exchanged between them, and when, three years later, Gerald married the daughter of the Mr. Kennedy he had visited near Cork, a present of a superb set of jewels, the joint gift of the baron and Monsieur de la Vallee, arrived for the bride.

After the conclusion of the peace, some of the Irish regiments were disbanded, and as the British Government, wiser than before, offered a free pardon to all men and officers who would return, many availed themselves of it; and among these was O'Neil, who delighted Gerald by riding up, one day, to the castle.

"You did not expect to see me again, Kennedy; or, as I hear we ought to call you, O'Carroll. Not knowing where I should find you, I took the liberty of writing to Baron de Pointdexter, and he informed me of your good luck, and your change of name."

"And you have left the French service altogether, O'Neill?"

"Yes, and glad enough I am that I shall be able to end my days at home."

"And what are you thinking of doing?"

"Anything I can get."

"Well, O'Neil, I have some interest with the lord lieutenant. As I am no longer regarded as one likely to join in plots, I think that, were I to ride with you to Dublin after you have been here for a time; and speak to him for you, as one who had seen the errors of his ways, and was anxious to live peacefully, he would procure you some appointment."

O'Neil stayed there for three weeks, and they then rode to Dublin. The lord lieutenant granted Gerald's request, and gave O'Neil an appointment which would enable him to live in comfort; knowing that there is nothing, for keeping a man peaceable, like giving him something to do; and that an idle man is a dangerous man, while one who has a comfortable position can be trusted to hold himself aloof from any business that might imperil his place.

O'Neil thoroughly justified Gerald's recommendation of him, and, a couple of years after his return, married a young and well-endowed widow; and, to the end of his life, abstained carefully from mixing himself up, in any way, in politics.

Gerald saw the failure of Prince Charlie's expedition to Scotland; and the terrible disasters, that befell all who had taken part in the movement, showed him the wisdom of the course he had adopted—of standing aloof from all intrigues in favour of the descendants of James the Second.

THE END.