ght cold or a fever, and so disgusted (the
great) Mr. Maitland that he is actually hurrying away, with a vow to
heaven nevermore to put foot in Ireland."

"Be a little serious, and tell me of your mission this morning," said
he, gravely.

"Three words will do it. We reached Port-Graham just as the doctor
arrived there. The Commodore, it seemed, got home all safe by about four
o'clock in the morning; and instead of going to bed, ordered a fire
in his dressing-room, and a bottle of mulled port; with which aids to
comfort he sat down to write. It would not appear, however, that he
had got far in his correspondence, for at six, when his man entered,
he found but two lines, and his master, as he thought, fast asleep; but
which proved to be a fit of some kind, for he was perfectly insensible.
He rallied, however, and recognized his servant, and asked for the
girls. And now Dr. Reede thinks that the danger has in a great measure
passed off, and that all will go well."

"It is most unhappy,--most unhappy," muttered Mainland. "I am sincerely
sorry for it all."

"Of course you are, though perhaps not really to blame,--at least, not
blamable in a high degree."

"Not in any degree, Mrs. Trafford."

"That must be a matter of opinion. At all events, your secret is safe,
for the old man has totally forgotten all that occurred last night
between you; and lest any clew to it should remain, I carried away the
beginning of the letter he was writing. Here it is."

"How thoughtfully done!" said he, as he took the paper and read aloud:
"'Dear Triphook, come over and help me to a shot at a rascal'--not
civil, certainly--'at a rascal; that because he calls himself--' It was
well he got no further," added he, with a faint smile.

"A good, bold hand it is too for such an old man. I declare, Mr.
Maitland, I think your usual luck must have befriended you here. The
fingers that held the pen so steadily might have been just as unshaken
with the pistol."

There was something so provocative in her tone that Maitland detected
the speech at once, and became curious to trace it to a cause. At this
sally, however, he only smiled in silence.

"I tried to persuade Mark to drive over and see Tony Butler," continued
she, "but he would n't consent: in fact, a general impulse to be
disobliging would appear to have seized on the world just now. Don't you
think so?"

"By the way, I forgot to tell you that your protege Butler refuses
to accept my of