r her inclination to keep in with his friends:--go and see him, at all
events; reconnoitre, and report accordingly--and now if these fellows
are come let them be sent in."

Phil accordingly withdrew to follow up his own speculations, and in a
few minutes our friends, who so bravely distinguished themselves in the
widow's cabin, entered the office. Val, like most men of his class and
experience, was forced to undergo strong contests between the vanity
occasioned by his success in life, and his own shrewd sense and acute
perception of character. Whenever he could indulge that vanity without
allowing its gratification to be perceived by others, he always did so;
but if he happened to have a person to deal with, whom he suspected of
a sufficiently keen penetration, his own sagacity always checked its
display. No man ever puzzled him so thoroughly as O'Drive, who so
varied and timed his flattery, as to keep him in a state of perpetual
alternation between a perception of the fellow's knavery, and a belief
in his simplicity of heart. On one occasion he would exclaim to himself
or Phil, "This O'Drive is a desperate knave,--it's impossible that he
can be honest;" and again, "Well, well; there is too much simplicity
there, too much truth unnecessarily told, to allow me to consider that
poor devil a rogue--no, he is honest." The consequence was, that Darby
flattered him, and he relished it so strongly because he did not imagine
it was intentional, that Darby understood his weak points, in that
respect, better than any man living. This, in a country where the people
are shrewd observers in general, could scarcely be supposed to escape
their observation; nor did it. Darby's manner was so naturally imitated
by others, that even the keen and vigilant Valentine M'Olutchy was
frequently over-reached without being at all conscious of the fact.

When the men of the Castle Cumber corps came in, they found their
captain sitting, or rather lolling, in a deep-seated arm-chair, dressed
in a morning-gown and red morocco slippers. He was, or appeared to be,
deeply engaged over a pile of papers, parchments, and letters, and for
about a minute raised not his head. At length he drew a long breath,
and exclaimed in a soliloquy--"just so, my lord, just so; every man that
scruples to support the Protestant interests will meet no
countenance from you;--'nor shall he, Mr. M'Clutchy, from you, as my
representative,' you add--'and I beg you'"--he went on