O'Donnell wasted no more words, but entered in silence, and after having been kept for a minute or two in the dark passage, he was joined by Oliver, the governor's body-servant, as he was called, with a light. The two shook hands with great good-will, and Master Oliver drew his Irish friend into a little room on the left, where immediately O'Donnell produced two large, flat-sided, long-necked bottles from under his cloak, and setting one down on the table he said, "That's for you, Noll, and this is some gout-cordial for the governor, which will soon send all his ailments away." "God grant it!" replied the man, "for he is in a devil of a humour. Shall I take it to him, Master O'Donnell? Many thanks for the good stuff!" "Welcome, welcome!" replied his companion: "but you must get me speech of Sir John this very night, for I have got a dozen bottles of cinnamon, such as you never tasted in your days, and a gentleman in the town wants them. So I promised to give him an answer before I went to bed, but thought it only dutiful to talk to the governor about them first, in case he should like any." "Ah! he'll talk about that," replied the servant, "though he won't talk of anything else. Come up with me to his door, and we'll soon see if he'll speak with you. Bring your bottle with you. That's as good as a pass." "Better sometimes," replied O'Donnell, drily; and following the servant up-stairs and into the better part of the house, he was kept for a moment or two in the corridor, and then admitted into the presence of Sir John Hotham. CHAPTER XLII. Day dawned at length into the dark and lonely prison of the Earl of Beverley--the bright warm day, clear and beautiful, and rosy with the hue of the rising sun. A long ray of light streamed through the high window and painted the opposite wall; then slowly descending, as the orb rose higher in the heaven, rested on the graceful figure and the rich curling hair of the captive, as he still sat at the table, but fast asleep with his head now bent down on his folded arms. The quiet sunshine did not wake him, for he had watched, with anxious thoughts for his only companions, through the greater part of the night; and not till about an hour before morning had slumber fallen upon him. But he was not destined long to know repose; for shortly after dawn a voice was heard in the room, saying, "Is there any one below?" The sound but not the sense caught his ear; and starting up he gazed round the room. All was vacant, however, and he thought he had been dreaming, when suddenly the question was repeated-- "Is there any one below?" It seemed to come from the chimney; and approaching, he replied aloud-- "Yes! Who speaks?" "Who are you? what is your name?" demanded the voice; but, though the tones seemed not unfamiliar to Lord Beverley's ear, he could not of course venture to give his real name to a person he did not see; and he replied--