ntervals ever since the accident had occurred, returned with a
violence that seemed accentuated by the respite he had obtained during
the morning. For an hour or more he writhed and groaned in unspeakable
agony, while those about him suffered a reflected torment, and chafed
impotently at the distance that cut off Carrigmore and the possibility
of any fresh medical relief. The nurse was unceasingly vigilant; but
the mild and cautious remedies ordered by Gallagher were powerless to
soothe the violent pain. At last Nature mercifully intervened, and the
exhausted sufferer fell into a sleep that lasted for several hours.

At seven o'clock there was a stir of excitement through the house, as
the whisper passed from one to another that the Dublin surgeon had
arrived. When the news reached the sick-room, Milbanke drew a breath of
intense relief; but Clodagh's pale face went a shade whiter.

The great man arrived attended by Gallagher, and was shown directly to
the patient's room. There was a confused moment of introduction; then
Milbanke and Clodagh slipped quietly into the passage, leaving the
doctors and nurse to their work.

During a long interval of indescribable suspense Molyneaux made his
examination. Then, without a word, he and Gallagher emerged from the
room and descended solemnly into the dining-room.

While this final conference lasted Clodagh--who had returned to her
vigil immediately the doctors had left the sick-room--sat silent and
motionless beside the bed; outside in the corridor, Mrs. Asshlin
wandered to and fro, weakly tearful and agitated, while Nance stood
beside her father's door, afraid to enter and yet reluctant to remain
outside. Downstairs in the hall, Milbanke paced up and down in nervous
perturbation, awaiting his summons to the conclave.

At last the door opened, and Gallagher looked out.

"Mr. Milbanke," he said, "Doctor Molyneaux would like to see you."

With a little start of agitation Milbanke went forward.

In the dining-room a great peat fire was burning as usual, lighting up
the faces of Asshlin's ancestors; but the candles in the silver sconces
were unlighted and the window curtains had not been drawn. In the dull
light from the three long windows the large, placid face of Molyneaux
looked preternaturally long and solemn. Milbanke felt his heart sink.

In formal silence the great man rose and motioned him forward, and the
three sat down at the centre table.

"Mr. Milbanke," he bega