and sure enough, from the open window,
through the icy sleet, whirled the jovial bowl; and the jingle of the
china was heard faint through the tempest.

Toole was swearing, in the whirlwind and darkness, like a trooper.

'Thank Heaven! 'tis gone,' continued Devereux; 'I'm safe--no thanks to
you, though; and, hark ye, doctor, I'm best alone; leave me--leave me,
pray--and pray forgive me.'

The doctor groped and stumbled out of the room, growling all the while,
and the door slammed behind him with a crash like a cannon.

'The fellow's brain's disordered--_delirium tremens_, and jump out of
that cursed window, I wouldn't wonder,' muttered the doctor, adjusting
his wig on the lobby, and then calling rather mildly over the banisters,
he brought up Mrs. Irons with a candle, and found his cloak, hat, and
cane; and with a mysterious look beckoned that matron to follow him, and
in the hall, winking up towards the ceiling at the spot where Devereux
might at the moment be presumed to be standing--

'I say, has he been feverish or queer, or--eh?--any way humorsome or out
of the way?' And then--'See now, you may as well have an eye after him,
and if you remark anything strange, don't fail to let me know--d'ye see?
and for the present you had better get him to shut his window and light
his candles.'

And so the doctor, wrapped in his mantle, plunged into the hurricane and
darkness; and was sensible, with a throb of angry regret, of a whiff of
punch rising from the footpath, as he turned the corner of the steps.

An hour later, Devereux being alone, called to Mrs. Irons, and receiving
her with a courteous gravity, he said--

'Madam, will you be so good as to lend me your Bible?'

Devereux was prosecuting his reformation, which, as the reader sees, had
set in rather tempestuously, but was now settling in serenity and calm.

Mrs. Irons only said--

'My----?' and then paused, doubting her ears.

'Your _Bible_, if you please, Madam.'

'Oh?--oh! my Bible? I--to be sure, captain, jewel,' and she peeped at
his face, and loitered for a while at the door, for she had unpleasant
misgivings about him, and did not know what to make of his request, so
utterly without parallel. She'd have fiddled at the door some time
longer, speculating about his sanity, but that Devereux turned full upon
her with a proud stare, and rising, he made her a slight bow, and said:
'I _thank_ you, Madam,' with a sharp courtesy, that said: 'avaunt, and
qu