into whose heart it fell. The consciousness of his present
position--discarded by a kind uncle for dishonesty, and deprived, as
he thought, by the caprice or mental imbecility, of another uncle, of a
property amounting to upwards of twelve hundred per annum--sank upon his
heart with a feeling which filled it with a deep and almost blasphemous
resentment at every person concerned, which he could scarcely repress
from the observation of his guide.

"What is your name?" said he abruptly to him; and as he asked the
question he fixed a glance upon him that startled his companion.

The latter looked at him, and felt surprised at the fearful expression
of his eye; in the meantime, we must say, that he had not an ounce of
coward's flesh on his bones.

"What is my name, sir?" he replied. "Faith, afther that look, if you
don't know my name, I do yours; there was your mother's eye fastened on
me to the life. However, take it easy, sir; devil a bit I'm afeared. If
you're not her son, Misther Woodward, why, I'm not Barney Casey, that's
all. Don't deny it, sir; you're welcome home, and I'm glad to see you,
as they all will be."

"Harkee, then," said Woodward, "you are right; but, mark me, keep quiet,
and allow me to manage matters in my own way; not a syllable of the
discovery you have made, or it will be worse for you. I am not a person
to be trifled with."

"Troth, and you're right there, sir; it's what I often said, often say,
and often will say of myself. Barney Casey is not the boy to be trifled
wid."