THE LEGEND OF ROSE ROCHE. 229 



Never with such heavy heart did Rose Roche assume the 

 place of honour. Though her hall was lighted splendidly, 

 and her table crowded with the proudest nobles within " the 

 p a l e " though rich wine flowed, and the most skilful harpers 

 in the province poured forth their lays of love and war yet 

 one heart was heedless of gaiety and grandeur ; and that one 

 was hers on whom every eye was bent, in deep expectancy 

 awaiting her decision. 



The curfew rang and in another hour the happy Lord 

 of Dhu Castle would be proclaimed. As the moments flew, 

 the beautiful widow became paler and more dejected; and 

 breasts which had never quailed amid the roar of battle, 

 now throbbed as nervously as a maiden's, when she listens 

 to the first tale of love. The harps were mute, the revel 

 became less loud, for all were deeply interested in that event 

 which a brief space must determine. At this embarrassing 

 moment, a loud blast was heard at the grand gate, and the 

 seneschal rushed in, to announce the arrival of the Thane of 

 Connaught, attended by a noble following of, at least, one 

 hundred horse. 



The sudden and opportune appearance of him of the West, 

 seemed to affect the company variously. His rivals heard 

 the news with mingled feelings of jealousy and alarm, which 

 was in no way abated when the number of his attendants was 

 announced, which exceeded that of their united folio wings. 

 Rose Roche felt a secret pleasure at his coming ; not that her 

 sentiments towards O'Connor were more favourable than to 

 her suitors generally, but his late arrival must necessarily 

 occasion some delay, and postpone, though but for brief space, 

 that dreaded moment when she should surrender a hand, 

 without a heart, to her future lord. 



"While O'Connor, as the greatest stranger, was placed 

 beside the lady of Dhu Castle, his bard stood behind his 

 master, and his train bestowed themselves where they could 

 best find room. As Rose Roche looked carelessly around 

 to see that the band were fitly accommodated, her eyes 

 met those of the young minstrel : the blood rushed to 

 her brow ; for, excepting those of her own loved page, she 

 never looked upon a pair so black and sparkling as the 

 stranger's. 



When the Thane of Connaught had feasted to his heart's 

 content, the Prior of the Dominicans produced the parchment, 



