"I think you may trust to me that I will manage the matter delicately.

He shall never suspect that he has given any uneasiness by his absence."

"But even this," said she, eagerly, "condemns me to some hours longer of feverish misery. You cannot possibly go back to town and return here in less than two--perhaps three hours."

"I 'll try and do it in half the time," said Conway, rising, and taking his cap. "Where does Mr. Dunn live?"

"In Menion Square. I forget the number, but it does not matter; every one knows his house. It is on the north side."

"You shall see me before--What o'clock is it now?"

"Half-past eight," said she, shuddering, as she saw how late it was.

"Before eleven, I promise you confidently,--and earlier if I can."

"You know my father so very little--so very recently," said Sybella, with some confusion, "that it may be necessary to guard you,--that is, you ought to be made aware that on this day the estate our family has held for centuries was sold. It is true we are no poorer than we were yesterday; the property we called our own, and from habit believed to be such, had been mortgaged this many a year. Why or how we ever fancied that one day or other we should be in a position to pay off the encumbrances, I cannot tell you; but it is true that we did so fancy, and used to talk of that happy event as of one we felt to be in store for us. Well, the blow has fallen at last, and demolished all our castle-building! Like storm-tossed vessels, we saw ships sinking on every side, and yet caught at hope for ourselves. This hope has now left us. The work of this morning has obliterated every trace of it. It is of this, then, I would ask you to be mindful when you see my poor father.

He has seen ruin coming this many a year; it never came face to face with him till to-day. I cannot tell how he may brave it, though there was a time I could have answered for his courage."

"Jack Kellett's father could scarcely be deficient in that quality,"

said Conway, whose flashing eyes showed that it was Jack's sister was uppermost in his mind as he spoke.

"Oh," said she, sorrowfully, "great as the heroism is that meets death on the field of battle, it is nothing to the patient and enduring bravery that confronts the daily ills of life,--confronts them nobly, but in humility, neither buoyed up by inordinate hope, nor cast down by despondency, but manfully resolved to do one's best, and, come what may, to do it without sacrifice of self-respect. Thus meeting fate, and with a temper that all the crosses of life have not made irritable nor suspectful, makes a man to my eyes a greater hero than any of those who charge in forlorn hopes, or single-handed rush up the breach torn by grape-shot." Her cheek, at first pale, grew deeper and deeper red, and her dark eyes flashed till their expression became almost wild in brilliancy, when, suddenly checking her passionate mood, she said, "It were better I should go along with you,--better, at least, I were at hand. He will bear much from me that he would not endure from another, and I will go." So saying, she hastened from the room, and in a moment came back shawled and ready for the road.

"What a night for you to venture out," said Conway; "and I have got no carriage of any kind."

"I am well accustomed to brave bad weather, and care nothing for it."

"It is raining fearfully, and the waves are washing clear over the low sea-wall," said he, trying to dissuade her.

"I have come out here on many such nights, and never the worse for it.

Can't you fancy Jack Kellett's sister equal to more than this?" said she, smiling through all her sadness, as she led the way to the door.

And now they were upon the road, the wild rain and the gusty wind beating against them, and almost driving them back. So loud the storm that they did not try to speak, but with her arm close locked within his own, Conway breasted the hurricane with a strange sensation of delight he had never known before.

Scarcely a word passed between them as they went; as the rain beat heavily against her he would try as well as he could to shelter her; when the cutting wind blew more severely, he would draw her arm closer within his own; and yet, thus in silence, they grew to each other like friends of many a year. A sense of trustfulness, a feeling of a common object too, sufficed to establish between them a sentiment to be moulded by the events of after-life into anything. Ay, so is it! Out of these chance affinities grow sometimes the passion of a life, and sometimes the disappointments that embitter existence!

"What a good fortune it was that brought you to my aid to-night," said she; "I had not dared to have come this long road alone."

"What a good fortune mine to have even so humble a service to render you! Jack used to talk to me of you for hours long. Nights just like this have we passed together; he telling me about your habits and your ways, so that this very incident seems to fit into the story of your life as an every-day occurrence. I know," continued he, as she seemed to listen attentively, "how you used to ride over the mountains at home, visiting wild and out-of-the-way spots; how you joined him in his long fishing excursions, exploring the deep mountain gorges while he lingered by the riverside. The very names you gave these desolate places--taken from old books of travel--showed me how a spirit of enterprise was in your heart."

"Were they not happy days!" murmured she, half to herself.

"They must have been," said he, ardently; "to hear of them has charmed the weariest watches of the night, and made me long to know you."

"Yes; but I am not what I was," said she, hastily. "Out of that dreamy, strange existence I have awakened to a world full of its own stern realities. That pleasant indolence has ill prepared me for the road I must travel; and it was selfish too! The vulgarest cares of every-day life are higher aims than all the mere soarings of imagination, and of this truth I am only now becoming aware."

"But it was for never neglecting those very duties Jack used to praise you; he said that none save himself knew you as other than the careful mistress of a household."

"Poor fellow! ours was an humble retinue, and needed little guidance."

"I see," said Conway, "you are too proud to accept of such esteem as mine; but yet you can't prevent me offering it."

"Have I not told you how I prize your kindness?" said she, gently.

"Will you let me think so?" cried Conway, pressing her arm closely; and again they were silent Who knows with what thoughts?

How dreary did the streets seem as they entered Dublin! The hazy lamps, dulled by the fast-falling rain, threw a misty light through the loaded atmosphere; the streets, deserted by all but the very poorest were silent and noiseless, save for the incessant plash of the rain; few lights were seen on any side, and all was darkness and gloom. Wearily they plodded onward, Sybella deeply sunk in her own thoughts as to the future, and Conway, too respectful of her feelings to interrupt her, never uttered a word as they went. At last they reached Merrion Square, and after some little search stood at the door of Mr. Davenport Dunn.

Sybella drew a heavy sigh as Conway knocked loudly, and muttered to herself, "Heaven grant me good tidings of my father!"

CHAPTER XXII. AFTER A DINNER-PARTY

Mr. Davenport Dunn had a dinner-party,--he entertained the notables of the capital; and a chief secretary, a couple of judges, a poor-law commissioner, and some minor deities, soldier and civilian, formed his company. They were all social, pleasant, and conversational. The country was growing governable, calendars were light, military duty a mere pastime, and they chatted agreeably over reminiscences of a time--not very remote neither--when Rockites were rife, jails crammed, and the fatigues and perils of a soldier not inferior to those of actual warfare.

"To our worthy host here!" said the Chief Baron, eying his claret before the light,--and it was a comet vintage,--"to our worthy host here are we indebted for most of this happy change."

"Under Providence," whispered the oily Dean of the Chapel Royal.

"Of course, so I mean," said the judge, with that kind of impatience he would have met a needless suggestion in court. "Great public works, stupendous enterprises, and immense expenditure of capital have encountered rebellion by the best of all methods,--prosperity!"

"Is it really extinct,--has Lazarus died, or is he only sleeping?"

interposed a small dark-eyed man, with a certain air of determination and a look of defiance that seemed to invite discussion.

"I should, at all events, call it a trance that must lead to perfect recovery," said the Chief Secretary. "Ireland is no longer a difficulty."

"She may soon become something more," said the dark man; "instead of embarrassing your counsels, she may go far towards swaying and controlling them. The energies that were once wasted in factious struggles at home here, may combine to carry on a greater combat in England; and it might even happen that your statesmen might look back with envy to days of orange-and-green memory."

"She would gladly welcome the change you speak of." said the Secretary.

"I'm not so sure of that, sir; you have not already shown yourselves so very tolerant when tried. It is but a few years ago, and your bar rebelled at the thought of an Irishman being made Master of the Rolls in England, and that Irishman, Plunkett."

"I must say," burst in the Attorney-General, fresh from his first session in Parliament, and, more still, his first season in town, "this is but a prejudice,--an unjust prejudice. I can assert for myself that I never rose in the House without experiencing a degree of attention,--a deference, in short--"

"Eminently the right of one whose opinions were so valuable," said the Secretary, bowing blandly, and smiling.

"You did not lash them too often nor too much, Hutchard," said the dark man. "If I remember aright, you rose once in the session, and that was to move an adjournment."

"Ah, Lindley," said the other, good-humoredly, "you are an unforgiving enemy." Then, turning to the Chief Secretary, he said: "He cannot pardon my efforts, successful as they have been, to enable the Fellows of the University to marry. He obtained his fellowship as a safe retirement, and now discovers that his immunity is worth nothing."

"I beg pardon," said Lindley; "I have forgiven you long ago. It was from your arguments in its favor the measure was so long resisted. You are really blameless in the matter!"

The sharp give and take of these sallies--the fruit of those intimacies which small localities produce--rather astonished the English officials, and the Secretary and the Commissioner exchanged glances of significant import; nor was this lost on the Chief Baron, who, to change the topic, suddenly asked,--

"Who bought that estate--Kellett's Court, I think they call it--was sold this morning?"

"I purchased it in trust," said Dunn, "for an English peer."