four walls of Dublin town; but
well becomes me, I took a post-chaise, no less, and followed her hot
foot--never lost sight of her, even while you'd wink, till I seen her
housed."

"Explain yourself, sirra."

"Faith, sir, all the explanation I have to give you've got, barrin'
where she lives."

The stranger instantly thought of Lucy's caution, and for the present
determined not to embarrass himself with a knowledge of her residence;
"lest," as she said, "her father might demand from him whether he was
aware of it." In that case he felt fully the truth and justness of her
injunctions. Should Sir Thomas put the question to him he could not
betray her, nor could he, on the other hand, stain his conscience by a
deliberate falsehood; for, in truth, he was the soul of honor itself.

"Harkee, Dandy," said he, not in the slightest degree displeased with
him, although he affected to be so, "if you wish to remain in my service
keep the secret of Miss Gourlay's residence--a secret not only from
me, but from every human being that lives. You have taken a most
unwarrantable and impudent liberty in following her as you did. You know
not, sirra, how you may have implicated both her and me by such conduct,
especially the young lady. You are known to be in my service; although,
for certain reasons, I do not intend, for the present at least, to put
you into livery; and you ought to know, sir, also, that it will be taken
for granted that you acted by my orders. Now, sir, keep that secret to
yourself, and let it not pass your lips until I may think proper to ask
you for it."

One evening, on the second day after this, he reached his hotel at six
o'clock, and was about to enter, when a young lad, dancing up to him,
asked in a whisper if that was for him, at the same time presenting a
note. The other, looking at it, saw that it was addressed to him only by
his initials.

"I think it is, my boy," said he; "from whom did it come, do you know?"

The lad, instead of giving him any reply, took instantly to his heels,
as if he had been pursued for life and death, without even waiting to
solicit the gratuity which is usually expected on such occasions. Our
friend took it for granted that it had come from the fortune-teller,
Ginty Cooper; but on opening it he perceived at a glance that he must
have been mistaken, as the writing most certainty was not that of this
extraordinary sibyl. The hand in which she had written his name was
precisely s