ieve, you never suspected. He is a
horsedealer named Lawler--Lanty Lawler."

"And he has sworn informations against me?"

"He has done more; he has produced letters written by your hand, and
addressed to different leaders of the United Irish party, letters whose
treasonable contents do not admit of a doubt.

"And the scoundrel has my letters?" said Mark, as his face grew purple
with passion.

"He has them no longer," said Travers. "Here they are, sir. They Were
shown in confidence to my father, by one, who certainly is not your
friend. Sir Marmaduke asked permission to let me see them, and I have
taken on myself, without permission, to give them back to you."

"At whose suggestion," said Mark, proudly, "comes this act of grace?
Is it your father, who extends his protection to a tenant, or is it
yourself, whose wish is to humble me by an obligation?"

"There is none," said Travers, frankly. "I believe, that scoundrels
without heart or courage have laid a trap for a man who has both one
and the other. I do not desire you should accept my conduct as a favour,
still less as offering any bar to such a reckoning between us as two
gentleman of equal place and standing may demand or expect from one
another."

"Say you so, indeed!" cried Mark, as his eyes flashed with joy: "is that
your meaning?"

"There's my hand on it," said Travers, "as friend or foe!"

Mark grasped his hand, and wrung it with a convulsive pressure.

"Then you are aware that you owe me such a reparation," said he, in
a voice tremulous with emotion. "You do not forget the day at
Carrig-na-curra--beside the hearth--before my brother?"

"I remember it well," said Travers. "I ask your pardon for the insult.
It was unworthy of me to have made the speech, nor have I been on good
terms with myself since I uttered it."

Mark dropped his head, and uttered not a word. He could better have
looked on Travers wounded and bleeding than have seen him thus elevated
above himself by temper and manly candour. The vengeance he had
yearned after so long was not only snatched from his grasp, but in the
bitterness of disappointment its sting was turned against himself.

"This would be an unworthy cause of quarrel," said Travers; "one of
which I could not but feel ashamed, and wherein you could have no pride.
If we are not to be friends--and I seek no man's friendship who is
not as willing to accept of mine--if we are not to be friends, let
our enmity be ratified on