"Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. He was now at the entrance of the chapel, and striking the door over which he had previously climbed a violent blow with the bar, it flew open. A door led to the inner room; and it was evident from the peals of merriment, and other noises, that, ever and anon, resounded from within, that this chamber was occupied by the Marquis and his friends. She was extremely showily dressed, and her large hooped petticoat gave additional effect to her lofty stature.
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