re in our ears together, the requiem of the organ, and, with it, the
faint hurdy-gurdy jig of our vulgar daily life; and now and then this
latter uppermost.

It was not till he had got nearly across the bridge that Captain
Devereux, as it were, waked up. It was no good waking. He broke forth
into sheer fury. It is not my business to note down the horrors of this
impious frenzy. It was near five o'clock when he came back to his
lodgings; and then, not to rest. To sit down, to rise again, to walk
round the room and round, and stop on a sudden at the window, leaning
his elbows on the sash, with hands clenched together, and teeth set; and
so those demoniac hours of night and solitude wore slowly away, and the
cold gray stole over the east, and Devereux drank a deep draught of his
fiery Lethe, and cast himself down on his bed, and fell at once into a
deep, exhausted lethargy.

When his servant came to his bed-side at seven o'clock, he was lying
motionless, with flushed cheeks, and he could not rouse him. Perhaps it
was well, and saved him from brain-fever or madness.

But after such paroxysms comes often a reaction, a still, stony, awful
despondency. It is only the oscillation between active and passive
despair. Poor Leonora, after she had worked out her fit, tearing 'her
raven hair,' and reviling heaven, was visited in sadder and tenderer
guise by the vision of the past; but with that phantom went down in fear
and isolation to the grave.

This morning several of the neighbours went into Dublin, for the bills
were to be presented against Charles Nutter for a murderous assault,
with intent to kill, made upon the person of Barnabas Sturk, Esq.,
Doctor of Medicine, and Surgeon to the Royal Irish Artillery. As the day
wore on, the honest gossips of Chapelizod looked out anxiously for news.
And everybody who met any one else asked him--'Any news about Nutter,
eh?'--and then they would stop to speculate--and then one would wonder
that Dr. Walsingham's man, Clinton, had not yet returned--and the other
would look at his watch, and say 'twas one o'clock--and then both agreed
that Spaight, at all events, must soon come--for he has appointed two
o'clock for looking at that brood mare of Fagan's.

At last, sure enough, Spaight appeared. Toole, who had been detained by
business in another quarter, had ridden into the town from Leixlip, and
was now dismounted and talking with Major O'Neill upon the absorbing
topic. These cronies saw