eed," replied the other, with a
good-humoured laugh; "but if we have storm, we have shelter."

Intentionally misunderstanding the allusion, and applying to the ruined
mansion the praise bestowed on the bold mountains, the doctor threw a
despairing look around the room, and repeated the word "shelter" in a
voice far from complimentary.

The O'Donoghue's blood was up in a moment. His brow contracted and his
cheek flushed, as, in a low and deep tone, he said--

"It is a crazy old concern. You are right enough--neither the walls nor
the company within them, are like what they once were."

The look with which these words were given, recalled the doctor to a
sense of his own impertinence; for, like certain tethered animals, who
never become conscious of restraint till the check of the rope lays them
on their back, nothing short of such a home-blow could have staggered
his self-conceit.

"Ay, ay," muttered he, with a cackling apology for a laugh, "time is
telling on us all.--But I'm keeping the supper waiting."

The duties of hospitality were always enough to make O'Donoghue forget
any momentary chagrin, and he seated himself at the table with all his
wonted good-humour and affability.

As the meal proceeded, the doctor inquired about the sick boy, and the
circumstances attending his illness; the interest he bestowed on the
narrative mainly depending on the mention of Sir Marmaduke Travers's
name, whose presence in the country he was not aware of before, and
from whose residence he began already to speculate on many benefits to
himself.

"They told me," continued O'Donoghue, "that the lad behaved admirably.
In fact, if the old weir-rapid be any thing like what I remember it, the
danger was no common one. There used to be a current there strong enough
to carry away a dozen horsemen."

"And how is the young lady? Is she nothing the worse from the cold, and
the drenching, and the shock of the accident?"

"Faith, I must confess it, I have not had the grace to ask after her.
Living as I have been for some years back, has left me sadly in arrear
with every demand of the world. Sir Marmaduke was polite enough to say
he'd call on me; but there is a still greater favour he could bestow,
which is, to leave me alone."

"There was a law-suit or dispute of some kind or other between you, was
there not?"

"There is something of that kind," said O'Donoghue, with an air of
annoyance at the question; "but these are matters gentl