feel
obliged, Larry" said Sir Theodore, "for your good wishes." "Is it I pull
you out of the grave, indeed!" continued the whipper-in, for such he was,
--"I'd let nobody pull your honour out of any place, saving 'twas
purgatory; and out of that I'd pull you myself, if I saw you going
_there_." "I am of opinion, Larry," said Doctor Dickenson, "you would
turn tail if you saw Sir Theodore on that road. You might go further, and
fare worse, you know." "Turn tail!" replied Larry, "it is I that
wouldn't--I appale to St. Patrick himself over beyond"--pointing to a
picture of the Prime Saint of Ireland, which hung in gilt daubery behind
his master's chair, right opposite to him. To Larry's horror and
astonishment, the picture fixing its eyes upon him, winked with the most
knowing air, as if acknowledging the appeal. "What makes you turn so
white then at the very thought," said the doctor, interpreting the
visible consternation of our hero in his own way. "Nothing particular,"
answered Larry; "but a wakeness has come strong over me, gintlemin, and
if you'd have no objection, I'd like to go into the air for a bit." Leave
was of course granted, and Larry retired amid the laughter of the
guests--but as he retreated, he could not avoid casting a glance on the
awful picture--and again the Saint winked, with a most malicious smile.
It was impossible to endure the repeated infliction, and Larry rushed
down the stairs in an agony of fright and amazement. "May be," thought
he, "it might be my own eyes that wasn't quite steady--or the flame of
the candle. But no--he winked at me as plain as ever I winked at Judy
Donaghue of a May morning. What he manes by it I can't say--but there's
no use of thinking about it--no, nor of talking neither, for who' d
believe me if I tould them of it?"

The next evening Sir Theodore died, as has been mentioned; and in due
time thereafter was buried according to the custom of the family, by
torch-light, in the churchyard of Inistubber. All was fitly performed;
and although Dickenson had no design upon the jovial knight--and if he
had not, there was nobody within fifteen miles that could be suspected
of such an outrage,--yet Larry Sweeney was determined to make good his
promise of watching his master. "I'd think little of telling a lie to him,
by the way of no harm when he was alive," said he, wiping his eyes, as
soon as the last of the train had departed, leaving him with a single
companion in the lonely ce