"No doubt of it," replied the pedagogue, as they left the room, "I shall
not forget myself, no more than that the image and superscription of Sir
Thomas Gourlay, the Black Baronet, is upon your diabolical visage."

Instead of ten minutes, the conference between the parties in the next
room lasted for more than an hour, during which period O'Donegan did not
omit to take care of himself, as he said. The worthy pedagogue was one
of those men, who, from long habit, can never become tipsy beyond a
certain degree of elevation, after which, no matter what may be the
extent of their indulgence, nothing in the shape of liquor can affect
them. When Gray and his two friends returned, they found consequently
nothing but empty bottles before them, whilst the schoolmaster viewed
them with a kind of indescribable steadiness of countenance, which could
not be exactly classed with either drunkenness or sobriety, but was
something between both. More liquor, however, was ordered in, but, in
the meantime, O'Donegan's eyes were fastened upon Mr. Gray with a
degree of surprise, which, considering the change in the young man's
appearance, was by no means extraordinary. Whatever the topic of
their conversation may have been, it is not our purpose at present to
disclose; but one thing is certain, that the transition which took
place in Gray's features, as well as in his whole manner, was remarkable
almost beyond belief. This, as we have said, manifested itself in some
degree, on hearing that Corbet and his sister had something to say to
him in the next room. Now, however, the change was decided and striking.
All symptoms of tipsy triumph, arising from his success in college,
had completely disappeared, and were replaced by an expression of
seriousness and mingled cunning, which could not possibly escape
observation. There was a coolness, a force of reflection, a keen, calm,
but agitated lustre in his small eyes, that was felt by the schoolmaster
to be exceedingly disagreeable to contemplate. In fact, the face of the