“That 's where we were to have dined by right,” said the Major, crankily,--“myself and my friend here,--but we're disappointed, and so we stepped in here, to do the best we can.” “Well, by all accounts, there won't be many dinners up there for some time.” “Why so?” “Ould Barrington was took with a fit this afternoon, and they say he won't get over it.” “How was it?--what brought it on?” “Here's the way I had it. Ould Peter was just come home from Kilkenny, and had brought the Attorney-General with him to stay a few days at the cottage, and what was the first thing he seen but a man that come all the way from India with a writ out against him for some of mad George Barrington's debts; and he was so overcome by the shock, that he fainted away, and never came rightly to himself since.” “This is simply impossible,” said a voice Conyers well knew to be Stapylton's. “Be that as it may, I had it from the man that came for the doctor, and what's more, he was just outside the window, and could hear ould Barrington cursin' and swearin' about the man that ruined his son, and brought his poor boy to the grave; but I 'll go and look after your honor's dinner, for I know more about that.” “I have a strange half-curiosity to know the correct version of this story,” said Stapylton, as the host left the room. “The doctor is a friend of yours, I think. Would he step over here, and let us hear the matter accurately?” “He's up at the cottage now, but I 'll get him to come in here when he returns.” If Conyers was shocked to hear how even this loose version of what had occurred served to heighten the anxiety his own fears created, he was also angry with himself at having learned the matter as he did. It was not in his nature to play the eavesdropper, and he had, in reality, heard what fell between his neighbors, almost ere he was aware of it. To apprise them, therefore, of the vicinity of a stranger, he coughed and sneezed, poked the fire noisily, and moved the chairs about; but though the disturbance served to prevent him from hearing, it did not tend to impress any greater caution upon them, for they talked away as before, and more than once above the din of his own tumult, he heard the name of Barrington, and even his own, uttered. Unable any longer to suffer the irritation of a position so painful, he took his hat, and left the house. It was now night, and so dark that he had to stand some minutes on the door-sill ere he could accustom his sight to the obscurity. By degrees, however, he was enabled to guide his steps, and, passing through the little square, he gained the bridge; and here he resolved to walk backwards and forwards till such time as he hoped his neighbors might have concluded their convivialities, and turned homeward.