ed Cashel.

"Like one in a dream. He seems neither to know whether it be misfortune
or the opposite which impends him. Were it not for Mary, his poor heart
had given way long since. Ay, sir, there is more true heroism in one day
of that humble life, than in the boldest deed of bravery even you have
ever witnessed."

Cashel did not speak, but, in the pressure of his arm against Tiernay's
the other felt how the theme had touched him.

"You only know her by the graceful elegance of her manner, and the
fascinations that, even to old men like myself, are a kind of sorcery;
but I have seen her in every trial, where temper and mind, and heart and
pride, are tested, and come through all victorious; draining the very
wells of her own hopefulness to feed the exhausted fountain which age
and disappointment had dried up; lending to manhood a greater courage
than her own; ay, and more,--showing that her temper could resist the
jarring influences of misfortune, and, like the bright moon above the
storm-lashed clouds, soar on, glorious and lustrous ever. What are men
made of?" cried he, energetically; "of what stuff are they formed, when
such a girl as this can excite more admiration for her beauty than for
traits of character that ennoble humanity?"

"You speak with all a lover's warmth, doctor," said Cashel, half
smiling, while in reality, the subject interested him deeply.

"And why not, sir? I do love her, and with an affection that only
such beings inspire. It is creatures like her that redeem years
of disappointment and worldly disgust. It is in watching the
single-heartedness of that young girl that I, an old man, hackneyed and
hardened as I am, become trustful and hopeful of others. Love her!--to
be sure I love her. And so would you, if the poor fopperies amid which
you live but left you one moment free to think and feel as your own head
and heart would lead you. I hope you take no heed of my rude speech,
sir," said he, hastily; "but it is the fault of my craft to believe that
sweet things are only 'Placebos,' given but to earn the fee and amuse
the patient."

"I thank you for it," said Cashel, pressing his hand; "few have ever
cared to tell me truths."

"Say, rather, few have cared to resign their influence over you by
showing they knew your weak points. Now, I have too deep an interest in
you, and too slight a regard for any profit your acquaintance can render
myself, to be swayed by this. You don't know, you cannot