have mine.

"Oh, faix, mine is soon told--'twas my pocket-book, with as good as
seventy pounds in goold, I lost here, a three weeks ago, and never set
eyes on it since; and there was papers in it--ay, faix, papers of great
value--and I darn't face Father Luke without them. I may leave the
country, when he hears what happened."

"Where are you going now?" said Mark, gloomily.

"I'm going as far as Mary's, for the night. Maybe you'd step down there,
and take a bit of supper? When the moon rises, the night will take up
fine."

The young man turned without speaking, and bent his steps in the
direction Lanty was travelling.

The horse-dealer was too well versed in human nature to press for a
confidence, which he foresaw would be, at last, willingly extended to
him; he therefore walked along at Mark's side, without uttering a word,
and seeming to be absorbed in his own deep musings. His calculation
was a correct one. They had not gone many paces forward, when young
O'Donoghue unburthened his whole heart to him--told him, with all the
eloquent energy of a wounded spirit, of the insult he had received in
his own home, before his younger brother's face. He omitted nothing in
his description of the overbearing impertinence of Frederic Travers's
manner--with what cool assurance he had entered the house, and with what
flippant carelessness he treated his cousin Kate.

"I left home, with an oath, not to return thither unavenged," said be,
"nor will I, though this time luck seems against me. Had he but come,
I should have given him his choice of pistols, and his own distance. My
hand is true from five paces to thirty; but he has not escaped me yet."

Lanty never interrupted the narrative, except to ask from time to time
some question, the answer to which was certain to develope the deeper
indignation of the youth. A low muttering commentary, intended to mean
a heartfelt sympathy with his wrongs, was all he suffered to escape his
lips; and, thus encouraged in his passionate vehemence, Mark's wrath
became like a phrenzy.

"Come in now," said Lanty, as he halted at the door of Mary's cabin,
"but don't say a word about this business. I have a thought in my head
that may do you good service, but keep a fair face before people--do you
mind me?"

There was a tone of secrecy and mystery in these words Mark could not
penetrate; but, however dark their meaning, they seemed to promise some
hope of that revenge his heart yearned after