hundred and sixty-four windows in it, and all the extraordinary sights
and prodigies which it is supposed to contain. In a few minutes after
this friendly accession to their numbers had taken place, a youth
entered about nineteen years of age--handsome, tall, and well-made--in
fact, such a stripling as gave undeniable promise of becoming a fine,
powerful young man. On being handed a glass of whiskey he shook hands
with M'Mahon, welcomed him home, and then drank all their healths by
name until he came to that of Dora, when he paused, and, coloring,
merely nodded towards her. We cannot undertake to account for this
omission, nor do more than record what actually happened. Neither do we
know why Dora blushed so deeply as she did, nor why the sparkling and
rapid glance which she gave him in return occasioned him to look down
with an appearance of confusion and pain. That some understanding
subsisted between young Cavanagh--for he was Gerald's son--and Dora
might have been evident to a close observer; but in truth there was
at that moment no such thing as a close observer among them, every eye
being fixed with impatience and curiosity upon Tom M'Mahon, who had now
most of the conversation to himself, little else being left to the share
of his auditors than the interjectional phrases and exclamations of
wonder at his extraordinary account of Dublin.

"But, father," said Bryan, "about the business that brought you there?
Did you get the Renewal?"

"I got as good," replied the simple-hearted old man, "an' that was the,
word of a gintleman--an' sure they say that that's the best security in
the world."

"Well, but how was it?" they exclaimed, "an' how did it happen that you
didn't get the Lease itself?"