he fell heavily and helplessly upon the
floor of the chamber.

Without saying a word, the successful
combatant quitted the room along with
his companion, leaving Dwyer to shift
as best he might for his fallen comrade.

With the assistance of some of the
wondering menials of the place, Dwyer
succeeded in conveying the wounded man
into an adjoining room, where he was laid
upon a bed, in a state bordering upon
insensibility--the blood flowing, I might
say WELLING, from the wounds so fast as
to show that unless the bleeding were
speedily and effectually stopped, he could
not live for half an hour.

Medical aid was, of course, instantly
procured, and Colonel O'Mara, though at
the time seriously indisposed, was urgently
requested to attend without loss of time.
He did so; but human succour and
support were all too late. The wound had
been truly dealt--the tide of life had ebbed;
and his father had not arrived five minutes
when young O'Mara was a corpse. His
body rests in the vaults of Christ Church, in
Dublin, without a stone to mark the spot.