My father had walked several streets of the capital before he could collect his thoughts, or even remember where he was. He went along, lost to everything save memory of his vengeance. He tried to call to mind the names of those on whose zeal and devotedness he could reckon; but so imbued with suspicion had his mind become-so distrustful of everything and every one, that he actually felt as if deserted by all the world, without one to succour or stand by him.

Thus rambling by chance, he found himself in Stephen's-green, where he sat down to rest under one of those great trees, which in those times shaded the favourite promenade of Dublin. Directly in front of him was a large mansion, brilliantly lighted up, and crowded by a numerous company, many of whom were enjoying the balmy air of a summer's night, on the balcony in front of the windows. As they moved to and fro, passing back and forwards, my father could recognise several that he was acquainted with, and some that he knew most intimately.

His

Filled with one consuming thought, he fancied that he heard his name at every moment; that every allusion was to him, and each burst of laughter was uttered in derision at his cost. rage had worked him up almost to madness, and he could hardly restrain himself from calling out, and replying aloud to these fancied insults and aspersions on his character.

At such moments of doubt as these, certainty flashes on the mind with a power of concentration and resolution that seems to confer strength for anything, however difficult. So was it to my father, as suddenly the tones of a well-known voice struck on his ear, and he heard the easy laugh of him that he hated most of all the world. It was Barry Rutledge himself, who

now was leaning over the balcony, in the centre of a group, whom he was evidently entertaining by his remarks.

The bursts of laughter which at each moment interrupted him, showed how successfully his powers of entertaining were being exercised, while at intervals a dead silence around proved the deep attention with which they listened.

It was at the moment when, by the death of the Marquis of Rockingham, a new ministry was formed in England, and the Duke of Portland recalled from his viceroyalty, to be succeeded by Lord Temple. The changes that were like to ensue upon this new appointment were actively discussed in society, and now formed the subject of conversation on the balcony.

"You will be at large again, Barry,” said one of the group; these new people won't know your value."

Pardon me!" cried he, laughing, "I'm handed over with Cotterell and the state coach, as functionaries that cannot be easily replaced. Let them try and manage Dublin without me! I defy them! Who knows every flaw and crack of reputation-every da maged character, and every tarnished fame, as I do? Who can tell each man's price, from knowing his weak points? Who can play off the petty jealousies of rivals against each other; disgust them with their party; and buy them cheap for the Castle? Who but Barry Rutledge? I'll offer a wager of five hundred, that there is not a family secret I can't have the key to within one week."

"What the devil ever induced you to take up such a career?" asked a deep-voiced burly-looking country gentleman.

"The turf gave me the hint," said Rutledge, coolly. "I lost every sixpence I once possessed, when I backed this horse or betted on that one. I

regained a considerable share of my loss when I limited myself to looking out for what they style disqualifications to discover that Wasp wasn't a two-year old, or that Muffin was clean bred; that Terry had won before, and that Ginger was substituted for another. I saw that political life was pretty much the same kind of game, and that there would be a grand opening for the first fellow that brought his racing craft to bear on the great world of state affairs. I'm sure others will follow out the line, and doubtless eclipse all the cleverness of Barry Rutledge; but at all events, they can't deny him the merit of the invention. They talk to you about skilful secretaries and able debaters; I tell you flatly I've got more votes for the Government than any one of them all, and just in the way I've mentioned. Was it Dick Talbot's convictions or his wife's losses at loo that made him join us last session? How did Rowley come over? Ask Harvey Bruce who horsewhipped him in the mess-room at Kells. Why did Billy Hamilton desert his party? Lady Mary may tell you; and if she won't, George Gordon, of the Highlanders, can. What's the use of going through the list, from old IIemphill, that was caught cheating at picquet, down to Watty Carew, with his wife won at a game of Barocco ?"

"Slanderer-scoundrel!" cried out my father, in a voice hoarse with passion; and as the words were uttered, the balcony was suddenly deserted, and the rushing sounds of many people descending the stairs together, were as quickly heard. For a few seconds my father stood uncertain and undecided; but then, with a bold precipitancy, he seemed to calculate every issue in an instant, and made up his mind how to proceed. He dashed across the street towards the dark alley which flanked the "green," and along which ran a deep and stagnant ditch, of some ten or twelve feet in width. Scarcely had he gained the shelter of the trees when a number of persons rushed from the house into the street, and hurried hither and thither in pursuit. As they passed out, my father was enabled to recognise several whom he knew; but for one only had he any care; on him he fastened his eyes with the eager steadfastness of hate, and tracked him as he went, regardless of all others.

Without concert among themselves,

or any clue to direct their search, they separated in various directions. Still my father held his place unchanged, doubtless revolving, in that brief interval, the terrible consequences of his act. Some fifteen or twenty minutes might have thus elapsed, and now he saw one return to the house, speedily followed by another, and then a third. At last Rutledge came alone; he walked along slowly, and as if deep in meditation. As though revolving the late incident in his mind, he stood for a moment looking up at the windows, and probably speculating in his mind on the precise spot occupied by him who had uttered the insult.

"Here, beneath the trees," said my father, in a low, but clear accent; and Rutledge turned, and hastened across the street. It will, of course, never be known whether he understood these words as coming from a stranger, or from some one of his own friends, suggesting pursuit in a particular direction.

My father only waited to see that the other was following, when he turned and fled. The entrances to the park, or Green, as it was called, were by small pathways across the moat, closed by low, wooden wickets. Across one of these my father took his way, tearing down the gate, with noise sufficient to show the course he followed.

Rutledge was close at his heels, and already summoning all his efforts to come up with him, when my father turned round and stood.

"We are alone!" cried he; "there is none to interrupt us. Now, Barry Rutledge, you or I, or both of us, mayhap, shall pass the night here!" and, as he spoke, he drew forth his swordcane from the walking-stick that he carried.

"What!—is that Carew? Are you Walter Carew ?" said Rutledge, advancing towards him.

"No nearer-not a step nearer!— or, by heaven!-I'll not answer for my passion-draw your sword, and defend yourself!"

"Why, this is sheer madness, Watty. What is your quarrel with me?”

"Do you ask me ?-do you want to hear why I called you a scoundrel and a slanderer?-or is it that I can brand you as both, at noon-day, and in a crowd, adding coward to the epithets?"

"Come-come," said the other, with a sarcastic coolness, that only in

creased my father's rage. "You know as well as any man, that these things are not done in this fashion. I am easily found when wanted."

"Do you think that I will give you another day to propagate your slander? No, by heaven! not an hour!" And so saying, he rushed on, probably to consummate the outrage by a blow. Rutledge, who was in court dress, now drew his rapier, and the two steels

crossed.

My father was a consummate swordsman; he had fought several times with that weapon when abroad; and had he only been guided by his habitual temper, nothing would have been easier for him than to overcome his antagonist. So ungovernable, however, was his passion now, that he lost almost every advantage his superior skill might have conferred.

As if determined to kill his enemy at any cost, he never stood on his guard, nor parried a single thrust, but rushed wildly at him. Rutledge, whose courage was equal to his coolness, saw all the advantage this gave him; and, after a few passes, succeeded in running his sword through my father's chest, so that the point actually projected on the opposite side. With a sudden jerk of his body, my father snapped the weapon in two, and then shortening his own to within about a foot of the point, he ran Rutledge through the heart. One heavy groan followed, and he fell dead upon his face.

My father drew forth the fragment from his own side, and then stooping down, examined the body of his adver

sary.

His recollection of what passed in that terrible moment was horribly distinct ever after. He mentioned to him from whom I myself learned these details, that so diabolical was the hatred that held possession of him, that he sat down in the grass beside the body, and contemplated it with a kind of fiend-like exultation. A light, thin rain began to fall soon after, and my father, moved by some instinctive feeling, threw Rutledge's cloak over the lifeless body, and then withdrew. Although the pain of his own wound was considerable, he soon perceived that no vital part had been injured—indeed, the weapon had passed through the muscles without ever having penetrated the cavity of the chest. He succeeded, by binding his handkerchief around his waist, in stanching the blood; and,

although weakened, the terrible excitement of the event seemed to lend him a momentary strength for further exertion.

His first impulse, as he found himself outside the Green, was to deliver himself to the authorities, making a full avowal of all that had occurred. To do this, however, would involve other consequences which he had not the courage to confront. Any narrative of the duel would necessarily require a history of the provocation, and thus a wider publicity to that shame which was now embittering his exist

ence.

Without ultimately deciding what course he should adopt, my father determined to give himself further time for reflection, by at once hastening back to the country ere his presence in the capital was known. He now returned to the hotel, and, asking for his bill, informed the waiter that if any one inquired for Mr. Cuthbert that he should mention his address at a certain number in Aungier-street. The carman who drove him from the door was directed to drive to the same place, and there dismissed. After this, taking his carpet-bag in his hand, he walked leisurely along towards Ball's-bridge, where already, as the day was breaking, a number of vehicles were assembled on the stand. Affecting a wish to catch the packet for England, he drove hastily to the Pigeon-house, but the vessel had already sailed. It was strange enough that he never was able to say actually whether he meditated passing over to England, or simply to conceal the line of his flight. Thus uncertain whither to go, or what to do, a considerable time was passed; and he was on the point of engaging a boat to cross over to Howth, when a sudden thought struck him, that he would drive direct to Fagan's, in Mary's-Abbey.

It was about six o'clock of a bright summer's morning, as my father alighted at Fagan's door. "The Grinder" was already up, and busily engaged inspecting the details of his shop, for, however insignificant as a source of gain, some strange instinct seemed to connect his prosperity with the humble occupation of his father and his grandfather, and he appeared to think that the obscure fruit-stall formed a secret link between their worldly successés and his own.

It was with surprise, not altogether devoid of shame, that he saw my father descend from the jaunting-car, to salute him.

"I've come to take my breakfast with you, Tony," said he gaily, "and determining to be a man of business for once, I'm resolved to catch these calm hours of the morning that you prudent fellows make such good use of!"

Fagan stared with astonishment at this sudden apparition of one from whom he neither expected a visit at such an hour, much less a speech of such meaning. He, however, mumbled out some words of welcome, with a half-intelligible compliment about my father's capacity being fully equal to any exigencies or any demands that might be made upon it.

"So they told me at school, Tony, and so they said in College. They repeated the same thing when I entered Parliament; but, somehow, I have been always a fellow of great promise and no performance, and I am begin. ning at last to suspect that I shall scarcely live to see this wonderful future that is to reveal me to the world in the plenitude of my powers."

"It will, then, be entirely your own fault, sir,” said Fagan, with an earnestness that showed the interest

he felt in the subject. "Let me speak to you seriously, sir," said he; and he led the way into a room, where, having seated themselves, he went on"With your name, and your position, and your abilities, Mr. Carew-no, sir, I am too deeply concerned in what I say to be a flatterer-there was a great and glorious career open before you, nor is the time to follow it gone by. Think what you might be amongst your countrymen, by standing forward as their champion. Picture to yourself the place you might hold, and the power you might wield. Not a power to depend upon the will of a minister, or the caprice of a cabinet, but a power based upon the affections of an entire people; for I say it advisedly, the leadership of the national party is yet to be claimed. Lord Charlemont is too weak and too ductile for it. Besides that, his aristocratic leanings unfit him for close contact with the masses. Henry Grattan has great requisites, but he has great deficiencies too. The favour that he wins in the senate, he loses in society. We want

a man who shall speak for us in public the sentiments that fall from us at our tables; who shall assure the English Government, and the English nation too, that the Irish Catholic is equal in loyalty as in courage-that his fealty is not less because his faith is that of his fathers. It is not eloquence we need, Mr. Carew. Our cause does not want embellishment. Orators may be required to prop up a weak or falling case. Ours can stand alone, without such aid! An honest, a resolute, and an independent advocate—one, whose ancient name on one side, and whose gcnial nature on the other, shall be a link betwixt the people and the gentry. Such a man, whenever found, may take the lead in Ireland; and, however English ministers may dictate laws, he, and he alone, will govern this country."

My father listened with intense eagerness to every word of this appeal. Not even the flattery to himself was more pleasing than the glimpses he caught of a great national struggle, in which Ireland should come out triumphant. Such visions were amongst the memories of his boyish enthusiasm, begotten in the wild orgies of a College life, and nurtured amidst the excesses of many a debauch; and although foreign travel and society had obliterated most of these impressions, now they came back with tenfold force, in a moment when his mind was deeply agitated and excited. For an instant he had been carried away by this enticing theme; he had actually forgotten, in his ardour, the terrible incident which so lately he had passed through, when Raper rushed hurriedly into the room where they sat, exclaiming

"A dreadful murder has taken place in the city. Mr. Rutledge, of the Viceroy's household, was found dead this morning, in Stephen's-green."

"Within the Green?" asked Fagan. "What could have brought him there after nightfall? There must have been some assignation in the case."

"Do you know have you heard any of the circumstances, sir?" asked my father.

"No further than that he was killed by a sword thrust, which passed completely through his chest. Some suspect that he was lured to the spot by one pretence or other. Others are of opinion that it was a duel! Robbery had certainly nothing to say to it, for