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VOL. I.
For the Banner ol the South.
Erin’s Revenge.
(For O’Donovan Rossa, Esq., who has been trans
ported for life for vindicating the rights of his native
land.]
I.
Revenge! Revenge! from every lip,
* Now rings upon the air,
While to the shout our banners dip,
Which we for Rossa rear;
And frantic cries for vcngeahce on
Tkat hireling wretched band,
That scourged the man who dared, alone,
The lash and felon’s brand.
11.
A thousand hills»have heard the cry
Which Rossa’s cause has raised,
And back they send the proud reply.
While high our banner blazed: 4
“Revenge! Revenge I ye noble men,
For Erin’s outraged laws;
Oh! raise the shout, Revenge! again.
For Rossa and his cause.
111.
Arid prouder swells the trumpet’s blast, »
And quicker beats each heart,
As to tin; w inds that flag was cast,
From which we’ll ne’er depart.
Remember Rossa, writhing in
The grasp of Saxon chains;
Then swear by all you love, to win
Their doubly blood-staiued trains.
“Hibeknicus.”
[Written for the Banner of the South.}
TJie Earls of Sstfterlanff
BY RUTH FAIRFAX.
PART~SECOND.
1 CONTINUED.]
CHAPTER XI.
When Reginald sought William’s
presence, lie was not readily admitted;
but he would not bo denied, and, at
length, stood in his Majesty’s presence.
William received him with averted eyes;
lie had privately received accounts of the
massacre, and was just about to start for
the Continent; he had hoped to avoid an
interview with any of the house of Suth
erland ; but Reginald was too quick for
him. William struggled for composure,
and, trying to force a pleasant smile, he
held out his hand to Reginald, saying :
' W hat is it to day, Reginald ?”
“It grieves me, deeply, that I may not
touch voqr Majesty’s hand,” said Regie,
eiaveljry “but I dare not do it until I
know that it is not stained by the blood
oi my sister’s husband !”
*\ "M not feign ignorance!” said
William, dropping his hand to his side;
t have heard that your sister’s husband
* as » unfortunately, killed in a skirmish
h.tween the Highlanders and some of my
troops. But, believe me, Reginald, I
oiu not know it was against the Clan of
1 ncoe they were sent, until it was too
late!”
It skirmish ! repeated Reginald ;
,\ our Majesty has strangely misunder
stood the matter. It was no skirmish,
a massacre; iny friends were sur-
nI n dieir beds, and butchered, in
O’ l blood ! Nay, more, the murderers
;y ro jkeir welcome guests, and sought
p‘ir hospitality, only to be their assas
sins !”
Impossible !” cried William: for, to
Jl ' n . Justice, be had not heard of this,
km °, n - { ‘ :it A ®y’s husband had been
p, G( ' ~ surely, you must be mistaken,
ta s!| ald i b'orn whom did you heai-this
ri'„y° m my sisfer ’ All »y MacDonald,
j j | ni y house, sufiering severe
coldiy 11 a br ° ken arm -” said Begie,
truf' 1 ’’ 0111 l iiT S - ter ’ then [t ,I,ust be
”rt’w" aiU . lliia,n * frowning darkly;
this!’’ tCI ° l tair did nofc tell me of
n -i 7.. h ® ? Ia * ttr of Stair !” repeated Regi
-1 to was he who planned this
k.lirciuiit'l' ?"*’ J our , !li g liness? 0h!
> bath he earned out his vow of
*enp(> ■ ’
> “What do you mean ?” asked Wil
liam.
“Does not yonr Majesty know that Sir
John Dalryrnple was a rejected suitor of
Amy’s ?”
“1 did not know it,” said William.
“And, it was he then,” said Reginald,
with a sigh of relief“your Majesty will
pardon me; will you not. ?”
“Gladly ! I cannot afford to lose my
friend Reginald,” said William, smiling,
and again offering his hand, Regi
nald clasped it.
“And the Master of Stair; you will
punish him, will you not ?”
“Aye ! never fear; he shall be punish
ed. Stop, he will be here in a few min
utes; step into yonder room—quick ! I
hear his footstep now !’’
Reginald had scarcely closed the door
after entering the room pointed out to
him, before Sir John Dalryrnple entered
the King’s presence. William received
him with a frowning brow.
“What is this I hear, Sir John ? You
have given me false statements concern
ing this Glencoe matter !”
“Have I been so unfortunate as to of
fend your Majesty ?” asked Sir John,
humbly.
“Aye! you have offended me. I am
told that these men ot Glencoe have been
butchered in their beds, and that the hus
band of Am v Mortimer has fallen, among
them. Is this true ?”
“True, every word of it,” answered
Sir John, composedly; “there was no
other way to secure them, sire; and, had
not John MacDonald been among them,
they might have gone on with their wild
wars to the end of their lives, for all I
cared.”
“It was your hatred of him, then, that
prompted 3*oll to do this murder?”
“I will not deny it 1”
“This is bold language to use to your
King,” said William, sternly.
“There are many bold deeds done in
the world, even to removing a King from
his throne !” answered Sir John, calmly.
“ What do jmu mean ? would you
threaten me !” exclaimed William.
“ Heaven forbid!” ejaculated Sir
John; “I was not referring to \ 7 our
Majesty.”
“To whom, then ?” asked William.
Sir John looked quietly at the King, but
answered not.
“Speak out, man; what do you mean !”
exclaimed William, impatiently.
“Your Majesty commands, and I obey,”
said Sir John, with mock humility;
“your Majesty has not, doubtless, for
gotten that I was with you, when you
went secretly to Sutherland Hall, when
Reginald Sutherland was married ? Ah!
I see you have not forgotten it; what
need to say more ? you understand me ;
I was standing by the door, when you
were conversing with the Sutherlands
privately.”
William became pale as death.
“What did you hear? SpeaJk! what
did you hear ?”
“I heard you call them your dearest
friends, and I heard them call you.—”
“Hush !” interrupted William; “the
instant that name passes your lips, 3'our
head pays the penalty of your audacity ’
You are a fool to thus thrust your head
into the lion’s jaws !”
“Not such a fool as 3*our Majesty
takes me to be ; all the knowledge that I
have gained, I have written down, and
entrusted the papers, in a sealed packet,
to a friend ; my imprisonment, or death,
would be the signal for the breaking of
that seal; and what is now known only
to the Sutherlands, your Majesty, and
myself, would be published to the
world !”
And, to whom have you that
packet?” asked William.
“Were Ito tell you, I would, indeed,
be the fool your Highness did me the
honor to call me, just now,” answered
sir John, smiling.
1 tb ? n ’ do - you su PPose that I can
let tins deed of yours pass unpunished ?”
AUGUSTA, G-A.., DECEMBER 19, 1868.
said the King, trembling with anger and
apprehension.
“Not altogether,” answered Sir John,
coolly; “I will consent for your Majesty
to deprive me of my office, provided I
lose nothing by it.” .
“Well, then, since you have so kindly
settled this matter of your punishment,
perhaps you will tell me what answer I
am to give the Earl of Sutherland, when
he demands your head,” said William,
ironically.
“Give him any answer you choose,”
said Dalryrnple, carelessly, “so long as
you do not give him my head.”
“But, why should I not give him your
head ? Does he not know more of my
secret, if secret there be, than you do ?”
questioned William.
“Oh ! he will never betray you, not
even if you refuse him my head !” replied
Sir John.
“True !” exclaimed William, bitterly;
“and I must sacrifice a true friend to
close the lips of an enemy ! But, if you
have a secret of mine in your possession,
why have you not made use of it before ?’’
“I was saving it for some great occa
sion,” answered Sir John ; “the time has
come, and I bring forward my treasure.
Am I to consider myself a prisoner, or
not ?”
“Go ! thundered William ; “I know
that you will keep my secret, because you
expect to be paid for it. Go, Master of
Stair, and let me see as little of you as
possible !”
“Your Majesty’s most humble servant !”
said Sir John, bowing himself out of the
room.
William bowed his head upon his
hands, and his heart was torn with con
flicting emotions. At length, he remem
bered that Reginald was waiting for his
call, and, rising from his scat, lie opeued
the door, leading to the next room.
Reginald advanced to meet him.
“Your Majesty has had him arrested!”
William shook his head.
“What! your Majesty has not suffered
him to leave your'presenee free /”
“He is at liberty !” said William.
“But you will have him arrested?” ex
claimed Beginald, eagerly; “lie shall be
punished for this most atrocious murder!”
“Do not use such harsh words, Regi
nald,” said William, in a low voice; “the
account that 1 have just heard, readers it
impossible for me to order his execu
tion !”
“What under Heaven can prevent
yonr Majesty rendering us justice ?”
cried Reginald.
“Enough, that it is so. Believe me,
1 deeply regret the necessity that forces
me to refuse you your reasonable request.
I owe my life and throne to you, Regi
nald, but were I to grant what you ask—
but, enough of this, I have deprived Sir
John Dalryrnple of his office, and sent
him Yom my presence.”
“Deprived him of his office 1” sneered
Reginald; “and he has deprived my
sister of her husband, and her husband’s
friends ! She loved her husband, my
King, ave, as warmly as Mary loved the
Duke of Monmouth; your love, surely,
must have cooled, my Lord, or you would
not think thus lightly of a husband’s
death, and such a-death !”
“Oh ! believe me, I do not think
light of it,” replied William, in great agi
tation; “my love for my peerless Mary is
as warm as ever it was, and it is for her
sake that I deny you your just revenge.”
“It is not my revenge !” exclaimed
Reginald; “the blood of the aged Chief of
Glencoe calls aloud to Heaven for ven
geance; and, if you do not listen to that
voice, it may fare ill with you !”
“Hush! in mercy’s name, hush !” im
plored William; “prophecy me no evil,
Reginald !”
Reginald heeded him not.
“Prophecy you no evil! KiDg of Eng
land ? Aye, but Ido prophecy evil to
you, and yours! The arms of Suther
land can never be lifted to injure you;
but they 7 guard you no longer, and jour
life may fall into the hands of your e ne '
mies. You will live in fear of their plots
and schemes, and your life will be a curse
to you ! And Mary—she for whose sake
you have done us this foul wrong—you
will live to see her an object of horror aDd
disgust to all around her, and if you,
yourself, do not fly from her presence, it
will be because of this warning that I
give you; in that day, you will send for
Reginald Sutherland, and—”
“Stop, in Heaven’s name !” cried Wil
liam, in a voice of such heart-felt agony,
that Reginald paused.
“Oh! Reginald, I owe you an everlast
ing debt of gratitude ; one more favor I
ask of you, before we part; if that dark
hour should come, promise me that \ T ou
will come to me !”
“Your Majesty asks much of me!” said
Regie, gloomily.
“I know that I do,” answered William;
“but promise me. By the memory of
Cuthbert, I ask it!”
“I promise !” cried Reginald, seizing
W illiam’s hand ; “oh! Monmouth, I know
not what fearful thing has come between
us; but it is so. I promise you, and now
—farewell !”
Reginald wrung his hand, and rushed
from the room.
William fell back in his seat, as Regi
nald left him, and groaned audibly. Who
can tell, or, rather, can we not tell, what
feelings raged in his breast ? Bound by
every tie of honor and gratitude to protect
the family of Sutherland, he had deserted
them now when they called on him to
redress their wrongs. Never had one of
them asked for wealth or titles from him;
but served him for love. Unfortunate
William! far better had it been for him
had he braved the vindictive, treacherous,
Master of Stair, and clung to these tried
friends. In bitterness of heart did Wil
liam remember this interview, in after
time, when the hand of affliction was laid
heavily upon him.
CHAPTER XII.
The Spring was coming on, and, yield
ing instant compliance to Amy’s request,
that they would go back to Sutherland
Hall, the family left the City earlier than
usual.
Amy seemed more like herself after
she got back to the old loved home, and
hope sprung anew in the hearts of those
who loved ker. But, though a faint smile
sometimes lighted her face for an instant,
her cheek did not recover its bfoom, nor
her eye its brightness.
The roses of June bloomed around her,
but they brought no pleasure to her; she
would look at them a moment, and then
toss them aside to fix her upon a
faded sprig of purple heather and a long
golden tress of hair, that were her chief
treasures.
“Have 3*ou not a glimmer of hope for
the future ?” asked Emily, as she was
sitting alone with Amy, one day; at least,
she thought they were alone, but Marma
duke was lying on a couch in the recess
of the window, where he had been read
ing and dozing away the afternoon. He
did not intend to listen to their conversaT
t-ion; nor, had he an idea that it was, in
any degree, a private one, until it was
too late.
In answer to Emily’s question, Amy
smiled faintly, and dropped from her
fingers the dainty little garment she was
fashioning"
“What have I to hope for ?’’ she
asked.
* I hoped for much in my little babe/’
answered Emily, softly; “and I find my
little Raymond the sweetest of treasures
to me.”
“Ah ! doubtless !” said Amy, with a
deep sigh; “but how different is your
lot to mine, ray sister. Four child has
his father’s love to look to, and is heir of
a noble Earldom, while mine will be an
orphan from its birth, and heir to what ?
A Highland Glen ! You know what that
is, sister—little bettor than nothing. Oh!
if it could bnt have a father’s protecting
hand to lift it over the rough ways of the
world, I could die in peace !”
“Why will yon speak of dying, Amy ;
live for us, and for your child, if not for
yourself.”
“No, Emily, I bequeath my child to
you, should it live, as it is to be an or
phan. I would, for its sake, that I were
wealthy; as it’s father is dead, I wish the
name he had left it were of high rank.”
“I join you in the wish, Amy; and,
did I not already have an heir of Suther
land, I would take 3*our child as m} 7 own,
and, at Ormand’s death, it should be his
heir!”
‘A ou are most generous, sister; but
you have a son; let what I have said,
pass.” *
“Naj 7 !” exclaimed Marmaduke, start
ing from his concealment; “Nay, Amy,
Emily, let it not pass; the Earldom of
Surrey 7 is scarcely less noble than that of
Sutherland ! Give me your child, Amy,
and I will make it my heir; it will no
longer be heir only to a bare Highland
Glen, hut to one of the noblest estates
and titles in England !”
A faint flush dyed Amy’s cheek as she
replied:
“You are too generous, ’Duke; no,
keep your ti tic, and bestow it upon one of
your brothers. Give it to An bur.”
“Arthur will not accept it, when he
knows that ’Duke has offered it to you,
and that you have relinquished it in his
favor.”
“Plead for me, Emily!” exclaimed
’Duke, in great agitation.
“Oh! 1 could not wrong your brothers
so !” said Amy, turning away.
“But you will not wrong them ; for, if
you do not accept my name, it shall die
with me !” said Marmaduke, encouraged
by Emily’s looks of silent approval.
“Accept your name! 111! your
name ! I think Ido not understand you,
’Duke !”
Mannaduke drew back abashed.
“He offers you his hand, Amy ; accept
it.” whispered Emily.
“Accept bis hand 1 Oh ! no, sister !
I refused it once, when in the pride of my
beauty, and shall I accept it now, to be
stow his Earldom upon my child ?”
“Even for that reason, dearest Amy,”
murmured ’Duke, kneeling- by her side ;
“I will not pain your heart by words of
love, now nor ever ; but only give me the
right of being near you ; take my name,
that you may give it to your child !”
“Dear, noble, generous heart !” exclaim
ed Amy, tearfully; “it will not be for
long, and if it will give the faintest
shadow of pleasure to your generous soul,
I will—”
“You will accept my namo—all un
worthy of you as it is ? Do you hear'
that, Emily ? She says she will bear my
name ! Oh ! Amy, many thanks; I
will cherish you as a dear sister. Never
fear that I will forget that your heart is
buried with join husband ! You have
permitted me to be of service to you, and
I am satisfied !”
“It will not’bc for long,’'’ murmured
Amy to herself.
“I will speak to Father Francis about
it !” said Emily, tenderly pressing her
lips to Amy’s cheek; “Onnand and the
others shall Le apprised of it, av,d ere the
sun sets, dear sister, you will have a claim
upon the Earldom of Surrey !’,
And while she went to speak to those
she had named, Marntaduke stood nearthe
window, gazing out upon the broad fields
of Sutherland, and Amy looked mourn
fully upon him, thinking of the noble
heart that sacrificed all things to its un
selfish love.
Marmaduke’s proposition was hailed
with delight by his brothers and Eugenia,
and, ere the sun set, Amy teas Countess
of Surrey.
CHAPTER XIII.
Emily came out of Amy’s room into the
fresh air. It was the last day of July, and
the very air was hot and stifling. Emily
looked pale and thin; for three nights she
ISTo. 40.
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