he purpose of visiting the
O'Connors, and had nearly reached the avenue leading to the mansion,
when I met my friend. He was also mounted; and having answered my
inquiries respecting his mother, he easily persuaded me to accompany
him in his ramble. We had chatted as usual for some time, when, after a
pause, O'Connor said:

'By the way, Purcell, you expressed some curiosity respecting the tall,
handsome fellow to whom I spoke last night.'

'I certainly did question you about a TALL gentleman, but was not aware
of his claims to beauty,' replied I.

'Well, that is as it may be,' said he; 'the ladies think him handsome,
and their opinion upon that score is more valuable than yours or mine.
Do you know,' he continued, 'I sometimes feel half sorry that I ever
made the fellow's acquaintance: he is quite a marked man here, and they
tell stories of him that are anything but reputable, though I am sure
without foundation. I think I know enough about him to warrant me in
saying so.'

'May I ask his name?' inquired I.

'Oh! did not I tell you his name?' rejoined he. 'You should have heard
that first; he and his name are equally well known. You will recognise
the individual at once when I tell you that his name is--Fitzgerald.'

'Fitzgerald!' I repeated. 'Fitzgerald!--can it be Fitzgerald the
duellist?'

'Upon my word you have hit it,' replied he, laughing; 'but you have
accompanied the discovery with a look of horror more tragic than
appropriate. He is not the monster you take him for--he has a good deal
of old Irish pride; his temper is hasty, and he has been unfortunately
thrown in the way of men who have not made allowance for these things.
I am convinced that in every case in which Fitzgerald has fought, if the
truth could be discovered, he would be found to have acted throughout
upon the defensive. No man is mad enough to risk his own life, except
when the doing so is an alternative to submitting tamely to what he
considers an insult. I am certain that no man ever engaged in a duel
under the consciousness that he had acted an intentionally aggressive
part.'

'When did you make his acquaintance?' said I.

'About two years ago,' he replied. 'I met him in France, and you know
when one is abroad it is an ungracious task to reject the advances
of one's countryman, otherwise I think I should have avoided
his society--less upon my own account than because I am sure the
acquaintance would be a source of continual though g