perhaps I won't."

"Well, look here," said Mellish; "we won't quarrel about a minute or
two; but I feel the want of a walk myself, and I'll come with you."

"I'm d--d if you shall," said Cashel. "Here, let me out; and shut
up. I'm not going further than the park. I have no intention of
making a night of it in the village, which is what you are afraid
of. I know you, you old dodger. If you don't get out of my way I'll
seat you on the fire."

"But duty, Cashel, duty," pleaded Mellish, persuasively. "Every man
oughter do his duty. Consider your duty to your backers."

"Are you going to get out of my way, or must I put you out of it?"
said Cashel, reddening ominously.

Mellish went back to his chair, bowed his head on his hands, and
wept. "I'd sooner be a dog nor a trainer," he exclaimed. "Oh! the
cusseduess of bein' shut up for weeks with a fightin' man! For the
fust two days they're as sweet as treacle; and then their con
trairyness comes out. Their tempers is puffict 'ell."

Cashel, additionally enraged by a sting of remorse, went out and
slammed the door. He made straight towards the castle, and watched
its windows for nearly half an hour, keeping in constant motion so
as to avert a chill. At last an exquisitely toned bell struck the
hour from one of the minarets. To Cashel, accustomed to the coarse
jangling of ordinary English bells, the sound seemed to belong to
fairyland. He went slowly back to the Warren Lodge, and found his