Hartledon ought to put them in prison for it." The sounds died away into silence.

Mrs.O'Moore took her hands from her eyes, where they had been pressed.

"Don't you know what it is, Lady Kirton?
It is the Irish death-wail!" It rose again, louder than before, for those from whom it came were nearing the house--a horribly wailing sound, ringing out in the silence of the night.

Mrs.O'Moore crouched into her chair again, and hid her terrified face.

She was not Irish, and had never heard that sound but once, and that was when her child died.
"She is right," cried her husband, the O'Moore; "that is the death-wail.
Hark! it is for a chieftain; they mourn the loss of one high in the land.
And--they are coming here! Oh, Elster! can DEATH have overtaken your brother ?" The gentlemen had stood spell-bound, listening to the sound, their faces a mixture of surprise and credulity.