is back towards him, a man
sat looking out over the landscape.

"Tony, Tony!" said Skeffy, coming close. The man turned his head, and
Skeff saw a massive-looking face, all covered with black hair, and a
forehead marked by a sabre cut. "This is not my friend. This is not
Tony!" cried he, in disappointment. "No, sir; I'm Rory Quin, the man
that was with him," said the wounded man, submissively.

"And where is he himself? Where is Tony?" cried he.

"In the little room beyond, sir. They put him there when he began to
rave; but he's better now, and quite sensible."

"Take me to him at once; let me see him," said Skefif, whose impatience
had now mastered all prudence.

The moment after, Skefif found himself in a small chamber, with a single
bed in it, beside which a Sister of Charity was seated, busily employed
laying cloths wet with iced water on the sick man's head. One glance
showed that it was Tony. The eyes were closed, and the face thinner, and
the lips dry; but there was a hardy manhood in the countenance, sick
and suffering as he was, that told what qualities a life of hardship
and peril had called into activity. The Sister motioned to Skefif to
sit down, but not to speak. "He's not sleeping," said she, softly, "only
dozing."

"Is he in pain?" asked Skefify.

"No; I have no pain," said Tony, faintly.

Skefif bent down to whisper some words close to his ear, when he heard a
step behind. He looked up and saw it was M'Caskey, who had followed
him. "I came here, sir," said the Colonel, haughtily, "to express my
astonishment at your unceremonious departure, and also to say that I
shall now hold myself as free of all further engagement towards you."

"Hush, be quiet," said Skefif, with a gesture of caution.

"Is that your friend?" asked M'Caskey, with a smile.

Tony slowly opened his eyes at these words, looking at the speaker,
turning his gaze then on Skeff, gave a weak, sickly smile, and then in
a faint, scarce audible voice, said, "So he _is_ your godfather, after
all."

Skeff's heart grew full to bursting, and for a moment or two he could
not speak.

"There--there, no more," whispered the Sister; and she motioned them
both to withdraw. Skeff arose at once, and slipped noiselessly away;
but the Colonel stepped boldly along, regardless of everything and every
one.

"He 's wandering in his mind," said M'Caskey, in a loud, unfeeling tone.

"By all that's holy, there's the scoundrel I 'm dying to get at,"