if they could not get at it themselves, to keep, for some of their own people to come after them, all the plunder they had heaped together in the caves of Rahar. They, therefore, built up that white house, and they put into it, as a care-taker for themselves, old Moyra Olliffe and her grand-daughter Aileen. And why do you think they selected old Moyra Olliffe, for such a post? For many reasons. First of all, because she was a pagan, hated the very name of a Christian, and detested the sight of an Irishman. Next, because she was an old witch, knew all sorts of enchantments, had sold herself right out as a dead bargain to the devil, and had got a power of boiling up in an iron skillet, which she always carried about with her, a certain drug, which if she got an opportunity of throwing at a person before he had time to say a prayer, or bless himself, would turn him into a dog, an ass, a goat, a cat, or a wolf, and that figure he must ever retain so long as he remained in Ireland, or within two hundred miles of the Irish coast. Last of all they appointed Moyra Olliffe to be the ostensible owner of Rahar because they knew that spite alone would make her true to her trust; for her brother King Olaf of the Iron-fist, or Olaf-ironfist as he was commonly called, was killed by the Irish when engaged on a plundering excursion with a few followers into the O’Carroll district. Moyra Olliffe was then fixed at Rahar to watch over its concealed treasures, to guard them by her enchantments, to rear up her grand-daughter to be, like herself, a witch; so that when the old woman died, she might succeed as the care-taker of all the silver and gold that belonged to herself as a king’s grand-daughter, as well as to the Danish tribe of which she was a member.
It was a lucky thing for the young princess Aileen, that her grand-mother, Moyra Olliffe, was so busily engaged in contriving plans for guarding the treasures buried in the caves of Rahar; the old woman had not time to misinstruct her, to corrupt her morals, to poison her mind, or to instil into the child’s heart her own prejudices against and malignant hatred of the Irish. Whilst the old witch was picking weeds and dead men’s bones out of church-yards, to boil up into charms in her magic skillet, the young girl was running, as wild as a colt, hither and thither; wherever she liked, about the country. One day she would be, perhaps, wandering through the deep woods that then covered the mountains from this spot for miles up beyond Kilmacthomas; and, another day, she would be fishing all alone by herself in the waters of the little Blackwater, over there beyond, at first for pinkeens, and then, at last, for trout—and an able hand she was, by all accounts, with the rod, and in making flies, and spearing eels. But the most lucky thing of all that ever happened Aileen was her straying one day into the old church at Park. That church has disappeared, and its foundation stones are now covered with the railroad before us. In the church, Aileen met with the parish-priest, and the parish-priest, when he first saw her, thought from her being a strange child in the country, and so wonderfully beautiful, that she must be an angel come down from heaven to pray before his altar; but—I give you my word! he did not long labour under that delusion, once he entered into conversation with her. All that poor little Aileen knew of religion, at that time, was to swear like a trooper; and what was still worse, she did not even know how to curse like a Christian; for all her oaths were in the names of heathen deities, such as Thor, and Odin, and Woden, and Frigga, and Saxnot, and such other demoniacal Danish idols. Lucky it was for Aileen, that meeting with the parish-priest of Park; for he never stopped teaching her day after day, and week after week, until she had “Butler’s Catechism” so completely off by heart, that she could defy an archbishop to puzzle her in it; and when she knew her catechism, of course, she never rested easy until the parish priest had baptised her as a Christian—and once being baptised, she was for ever afterwards secure against the diabolical mis-teachings of her grandmother. And so she went on for a few years, every year becoming more beautiful, and every year becoming a better Christian.
“I suppose that never before, nor since she herself was alive, was there seen or heard of a more beautiful creature than Aileen Olliffe at the age of eighteen. She was neither a tall, lanky, nor a fat, dumpy girl; but she was something between the two, with a step as light as a fairy, hair that was as yellow as flax, and finer than silk; a skin as white as milk, cheeks as pink as a young budding rose, eyes that were as blue as the sky, and that sparkled with light when you gazed into them; and a mouth that appeared to be made for no other purpose than to smile sweetly and to speak softly. When she walked abroad the sun seemed to shine more brightly, and the grass to grow greener, and even the humble daisies perked up their star-covered heads as if they were conscious there was in the midst of them something that made themselves and all around them look more entrancing than they ever did before. No wonder that young Phelim O’Neal O’Donnell, the first time he saw Aileen fishing for trout in the Blackwater, fell in love with her, and wished himself to be a little fish, in order that he might have the happiness of feeling her fair, taper, rosy-tipped fingers tenderly taking a rough hook out of his enamoured gills.
“Love of sport—having nothing to do—and the peace that had prevailed for some years in all parts of Ireland, from the time of the Danes being driven out of the country, had been the reasons for young Phelim O’Neal O’Donnell leaving his own principality, in the land of Tirconnell, to go and seek adventures in various parts of Ireland. Except knocking the head off a cruel magician at Cappoquin, and killing two giants that were overholding possession of the castle of Lismore, nothing worth mentioning had occurred to Phelim O’Neal O’Donnell from the day he left Tirconnell until the eventful morning that he beheld the princess Aileen fishing for trout under the churchyard wall, below the hill of Scart, in the county Kilkenny.
Phelim|“Phelim|nodash}} O’Neal O’Donnell fell in love with Aileen at first sight; and Aileen Olliffe returned the compliment; for she knew, she never, until then, saw, and never, from that time forth, expected to
