who held a cup in her hand, out of which something had been
poured down my throat. I looked at her, and she had such pity in her
face, which was remarkably handsome, that she appeared to me as an
angel, and I turned round as well as I could, that I might look at her
alone. She offered me the cup, which I should have refused from any one
but her, and I drank a little. Another person then came into the room,
and a conversation took place in French.

"I wonder what they mean to do with us," said I to O'Brien.

"Whist, hold your tongue," replied he; and then he leaned over me, and
said in a whisper, "I understand all they say; don't you recollect, I
told you that I learnt the language after I was kilt and buried in the
sand in South America?" After a little more conversation, the officer
and the others retired, leaving nobody but the little girl and O'Brien
in the room.

"It's a message from the governor," said O'Brien, as soon as they were
gone, "wishing the prisoners to be sent to the gaol in the citadel, to
be examined; and the officer says (and he's a real gentleman, as far as
I can judge) that you're but a baby, and badly wounded in the bargain,
and that it would be a shame not to leave you to die in peace; so I
presume that I'll part company from you very soon."

"I hope not, O'Brien," replied I; "if you go to prison, I will go also,
for I will not leave you, who are my best friend, to remain with
strangers; I should not be half so happy, although I might have more
comforts in my present situation."

"Pater, my boy, I am glad to see that your heart is in the right place,
as I always thought it was, or I wouldn't have taken you under my
protection. We'll go together to prison, my jewel, and I'll fish at the
bars with a bag and a long string, just by way of recreation, and to
pick up a little money to buy you all manner of nice things; and when
you get well, you shall do it yourself--mayhap you'll have better luck,
as Peter your namesake had, who was a fisherman before you. But somehow
or another, I think we mayn't be parted yet, for I heard the officer
(who appears to be a real gentleman, and worthy to have been an Irishman
born) say to the other, that he'd ask the governor for me to stay with
you on parole, until you are well again." The little girl handed me the
lemonade, of which I drank a little, and then I felt very faint again.
I laid my head on the pillow, and O'Brien having left off talking, I was