242 THE BAWN VONE. 



was yet such as to have left after it a gloomy feeling which it was 

 not well to disturb. 



At this moment he had entered rather with the disposition which a 

 tipsy man feels for an idle or mischievous frolic. He approached the 

 creature. As he did so she literally screamed. He d d her. " Did 

 she think he was going to eat her ?'' The moon did not shine in, but 

 there broke through the clouds a dim uncertain light, sufficient to 

 show the spitting devilish lips, and the demoniac eye. The half- 

 drunken man fancied the illusion were to himself. 'Twas a devil 

 sent to mock him, to reproach him for his past misfortune, his mur- 

 der. The vivacity of his spirits were not subdued ; they unfortunately 

 took another direction. Is there a time when there may be a sym- 

 pathy with madness ? Was he moon struck ?, He seized a heavy 

 stone and hurled it at the head of the idiot. There was a sudden 

 darkness, and no sound. The devil was roused within him, and he 

 kicked at the unyielding mass, which lay rolled up in the dark cor- 

 ner. The light suddenly streamed in there was Lacy, looking 

 downward, as if rather with curiosity than horror, the eyes of the 

 idiot meeting his, yet in the glassiness of death ; the mouth fixed 

 into the expression which was habitual to it ; the head streaming 

 with blood, in which the locks were dabbled; while his own shoes, 

 stockings, and trowsers, bore terrible evidence of who was the MUR- 

 DERER OF THE IDIOT. 



PART II. 



Let us return to the Bawn Vone. 



" Surrounded with her daughter and grandchildren, the latter 

 have already been glanced at the former I shall merely introduce 

 as a cheerful matronly lady, the charm of her domestic circle ; the 

 father, a good man too, has not perhaps yet returned from the day's 

 sports, and the parlour therefore simply presents the female group, 

 composed indeed of fair specimens of woman, from infant archness 

 and simplicity through womanly grace up to mild yet active be- 

 neficent old age. It is an evening in the latter end of October; 

 there is a low wailing wind without, like a pensive lament for the 

 passing autumn ; the fire burns cheerily within, shedding a glow of 

 comfort, and yet in all that blithesome family there is no disposition 

 for mirth. They were at tea, too the most social of domestic fes- 

 tivities and yet the children croudled together and whispered ; 

 the titter was suppressed almost at the moment of 'its involuntary 

 outbreak, and the chuchuments alone disturbed the almost solemn 

 silence that reigned around. 



The Bawn Vone had announced her intention of going abroad un- 

 accompanied. She did so in a way which forbade all remonstrance. 

 It was evident that her mir\d was made up for no uncommon object. 

 The family were used to remain in ignorance of the motive of her re- 

 solves until the period of their complete fulfilment. They dare not stop 

 or question her when bent upon a secret expedition of mercy. The 

 old lady manifested that her mind was working arid uneasy, by her 

 frequent recourse to the snuff-box, by the hastiness with which she 



