as occasionally attentive to her. We would be friends
for a month together, sometimes; then we would quarrel for a fortnight;
then she would keep her apartments for a month: all of which domestic
circumstances were noted down, in her Ladyship's peculiar way, in her
journal of captivity, as she called it; and a pretty document it is!
Sometimes she writes, 'My monster has been almost kind to-day;' or, 'My
ruffian has deigned to smile.' Then she will break out into expressions
of savage hate; but for my poor mother it was ALWAYS hatred. It was,
'The she-dragon is sick to-day; I wish to Heaven she would die!' or,
'The hideous old Irish basketwoman has been treating me to some of her
Billingsgate to-day,' and so forth: all which expressions, read to Mrs.
Barry, or translated from the French and Italian, in which many of them
were written, did not fail to keep the old lady in a perpetual fury
against her charge: and so I had my watch-dog, as I called her, always
on the alert. In translating these languages, young Quin was of great
service to me; for I had a smattering of French--and High Dutch, when I
was in the army, of course, I knew well--but Italian I knew nothing of,
and was glad of the services of so faithful and cheap an interpreter.

This cheap and faithful interpreter, this godson and kinsman, on whom
and on whose family I had piled up benefits, was actually trying to
betray me; and for several months, at least, was in league with the
enemy against me. I believe that the reason why they did not move
earlier was the want of the great mover of all treasons--money: of
which, in all parts of my establishment, there was a woful scarcity; but
of this they also managed to get a supply through my rascal of a godson,
who could come and go quite unsuspected: the whole scheme was arranged
under our very noses, and the post-chaise ordered, and the means of
escape actually got ready; while I never suspected their design.

A mere accident made me acquainted with their plan. One of my colliers
had a pretty daughter; and this pretty lass had for her bachelor, as
they call them in Ireland, a certain lad, who brought the letter-bag
for Castle Lyndon (and many a dunning letter for me was there in it, God
wot!): this letter-boy told his sweetheart how he brought a bag of money
from the town for Master Quin; and how that Tim the post-boy had told
him that he was to bring a chaise down to the water at a certain hour.
Miss Rooney, who had