t the best house in county Clare--well, he was coming
down on the Limerick coach, and met a deuced pleasant, good-looking,
talkative sort of a fellow a-top of it. They dined and got a tumbler
of punch together at Roscrea; and when French got down at Bird Hill,
he told his acquaintance that if he ever found himself anywhere near
Ennis, he'd be glad to see him at Glare Abbey. He was a hospitable sort
of a fellow, and had got into a kind of way of saying the same thing
to everybody, without meaning anything except to be civil--just as
I'd wish a man good morning. Well, French thought no more about the
man, whose name he didn't even know; but about a fortnight afterwards,
a hack car from Ennis made its appearance at Glare Abbey, and the
talkative traveller, and a small portmanteau, had soon found their
way into the hail. French was a good deal annoyed, for he had some
fashionables in the house, but he couldn't turn the man out; so he
asked his name, and introduced Paddy Rea to the company. How long do
you think he stayed at Glare Abbey?"

"Heaven only knows!--Three months."

"Seventeen years!" said Mat. "They did everything to turn him out, and
couldn't do it. It killed old French; and at last his son pulled the
house down, and Paddy Rea went then, because there wasn't a roof to
cover him. Now I don't want to drive your father to pull down this
house, so I'll go to-morrow."

"The place is so ugly, that if you could make him do so, it would be an
advantage; but I'm afraid the plan wouldn't succeed, so I won't press
you. But if you go, I shan't remain long. If it was to save my life and
theirs, I can't get up small talk for the rector and his curate."

"Well, good night," said Mat; and the two turned off towards their
bed-rooms.

As they passed from the billiard-room through the hall, Lord Cashel
shuffled out of his room, in his slippers and dressing-gown.

"Kilcullen," said he, with a great deal of unconcerned good humour
affected in his tone, "just give me one moment--I've a word to say to
you. Goodnight, Mr Tierney, goodnight; I'm sorry to hear we're to lose
you to-morrow."

Lord Kilcullen shrugged his shoulders, winked at his friend and then
turned round and followed his father.

"It's only one word, Kilcullen," said the father, who was afraid of
angering or irritating his son, now that he thought he was in so fair a
way to obtain the heiress and her fortune. "I'll not detain you half a
minute;" and then he said