"It is Arrah Neil, a much-valued friend of ours," replied Annie Walton, unwilling to enter into any explanation of the poor girl's history and circumstances in her presence. "Arrah Neill," repeated Lady Margaret, in a thoughtful and even melancholy tone, and then, waving her head sadly to and fro, she let go Arrah's hand, retreated to the other side of the room, and, casting herself into her usual chair, fell into a deep fit of thought. At the same time Lord Walton led Arrah to a seat, and bending down spoke few words to her in a low voice, to tranquillize her and make her feel at ease. But, while he was still speaking, the large stag-hound rose up from the side of Lady Margaret's chair, walked slowly across the room, and laid his huge muzzle on Arrah's knee. She showed no fear, and indeed took little heed, only gently patting the dog's head, as he fixed his keen, bright eyes on her face. The next moment, however, he raised himself a little and licked her hand, and Lady Margaret Langley, moved by emotions which she explained to no one, pressed her handkerchief upon her eyes and burst into tears. Neither Lord Walton nor his sister judged it right to take any notice of the good old lady's agitation; but, while Miss Walton stood beside poor Arrah Neil and conversed with her quietly, making her own remarks meanwhile upon the great change which had taken place in her manners and appearance, the young nobleman crossed the room to the side of his wounded friend, and inquired how he felt himself. "Oh! better, better!" replied the earl. "It was but loss of blood, Charles: the shot that passed through my leg and killed my charger must have cut some large blood-vessel, and I, not knowing that, went on fighting on foot by the side of that poor young lady, whose horse----" "I know, I know!" said Lord Walton. "It fell with her. She told me; but what happened then?"