"Good-night, good-night," said Driscoll, hurriedly; "that spirit is got
up to my head. I feel it. A pleasant journey to you both, and be sure to
remember me to Mrs. Miller." And with these incoherent words he hastened
away, and his voice was soon heard singing cheerily as he plodded his
way towards Dublin. "That's the greatest affliction of all," said
Kellett, as he sat down and sipped his glass. "There 's nothing like
having one's faculties, one's reason, clear and unclouded. I would n't
be like that poor fellow there to be as rich as the Duke of Leinster."

"It is a strange condition," said Bella, thoughtfully. "There were
moments when his eyes lighted up with a peculiar significance, as if,
at intervals, his mind had regained all its wonted vigor. Did you remark
that?"

"Indeed, I did not. I saw nothing of the kind," said Kellett, peevishly.
"By the way, why were you so cautious about Conway?"

"Just because he begged that his name might not be mentioned. He said
that some trifling debts were still hanging over him, from his former
extravagance; and though all in course of liquidation, he dreaded the
importunate appeals of creditors so certain to pour in if they heard of
his being in Dublin."

"Every one has his troubles!" muttered Kellett, as he sank into a moody
reflection over his own, and sipped his liquor in silence.

Let us now follow Driscoll, who, having turned the corner of the lane,
out of earshot of the cottage, suddenly ceased his song, and walked
briskly along towards town. Rapidly as he walked, his lips moved more
rapidly still, as he maintained a kind of conversation with himself,
bursting out from time to time with a laugh, as some peculiar conceit
amused him. "To be sure, a connection by the mother's side," said he.
"One has a right to ask after his own relations! And, for all I know, my
grandmother was a Conway. The ould fool was so near pokin' his foot
in it, and letting out that he knew him well. She's a deep one, that
daughter; and it was a bould stroke the way she spoke to me when we were
alone. It was just as much as to say, 'Terry, put your cards down, for
I know your hand.' 'No, miss,' says I, 'I've a thrump in the heel of
my fist that ye never set eyes on. Ha, ha, ha!' but she's deep for all
that,--mighty deep; and if it was safe, I wish we had her in the plot!
Ay! but is it safe, Mr. Driscoll? By the virtue of your oath, Terry
Driscoll, do you belave she wouldn't turn on you? She's a