from those who felt as anxious about the result of the trial as if a
brother or a dear friend had been in peril.

One face caught my eye as I passed; and partly from my own excitement,
partly from its expression being so different from its habitual
character, I could not recognize it as speedily as I ought to have done.
Again and again it appeared; and at last, as I approached the door into
the street, it was beside me.

"If I might dare to express my congratulations," said a voice, weak
from the tremulous anxiety of the speaker, and the shame which, real or
affected, seemed to bow him down.

"What," cried I, "Mr. Basset!" for it was the worthy man himself.

"Yes, sir. Your father's old and confidential agent,--I might venture to
say, friend,--come to see the son of his first patron occupy the station
he has long merited."

"A bad memory is the only touch of age I remark in you, sir," said I,
endeavoring to pass on, for I was unwilling at the moment of my escape
from a great difficulty to lose temper with so unworthy an object.

"One moment, sir, just a moment," said he, in a low whisper. "You'll
want money, probably. The November rents are not paid up; but there's a
considerable balance to your credit. Will you take a hundred or two for
the present?"

"Take money!--money from you!" said I, shrinking back.

"Your own, sir; your own estate. Do you forget," said he, with a
miserable effort of a smile, "that you are Mr. Burke of Cromore, with a
clear rental of four thousand a year? We gained the Cluan Bog lawsuit,
sir," continued he. "'Twas I, sir, found the satisfaction for the bond.
Your brother said he owed it all to Tony Basset."

The two last words were all that were needed to sum up the measure of my
disgust and I once more tried to get forward.

"I know the property, sir, for thirty-eight years I was over it. Your
father and your brother always trusted me--"

"Let me pass on, Mr. Basset," said I, calmly. "I have no desire to
become a greater object of mob curiosity. Pray let me pass on."

"And for Darby M'Keown," whispered he.

"What of him?" said I; for he had touched the most anxious chord of my
heart at that instant.

"I'll have him free; he shall be at liberty in forty-eight hours for
you. I have the whole papers by me; and a statement to the privy council
will obtain his liberation."

"Do this," said I, "and I 'll forgive more of your treatment of me than
I could on any other plea."

"May I