“No, no; that we’ll guard against. And now, Charley, with prudence and caution, we’ll clear off every encumbrance, and O’Malley Castle shall yet be what it was in days of yore. Ay, boy, with the descendant of the old house for its master, and not that general--how do you call him?--that came down here to contest the county, who with his offer of thirty thousand pounds thought to uproot the oldest family of the west. Did I ever show you the letter we wrote him?” “No, sir,” replied I, trembling with agitation as I spoke; “you merely alluded to it in one of yours.” “Look here, lad!” said he, drawing it from the recesses of a black leather pocket-book. “I took a copy of it; read that.” The document was dated, “O’Malley Castle, December 9th.” It ran thus:-- Sir,--I have this moment learned from my agent, that you, or some one empowered by you for the purpose, made an offer of several thousand pounds to buy up the different mortgages upon my property, with a subsequent intention of becoming its possessor. Now, sir, I beg to tell you, that if your ungentlemanlike and underhand plot had succeeded, you dared not darken with your shadow the door-sill of the house you purchased. Neither your gold nor your flattery--and I hear you are rich in both--could wipe out from the minds and hearts of my poor tenantry the kindness of centuries. Be advised, then, sir; withdraw your offer; let a Galway gentleman settle his own difficulties his own way; his troubles and cares are quite sufficient, without your adding to them. There can be but one mode in which your interference with him could be deemed acceptable: need I tell you, sir, who are a soldier, how that is? As I know your official duties are important, and as my nephew--who feels with me perfectly in this business--is abroad, I can only say that failing health and a broken frame shall not prevent my undertaking a journey to England, should my doing so meet your wishes on this occasion. I am, sir, Your obedient servant, GODFREY O’MALLEY. “This letter,” continued Considine, “I enclosed in an envelope, with the following few lines of my own:”-- “Count Considine presents his compliments to Lieutenant-General Dashwood; and feeling that as the friend of Mr. Godfrey O’Malley, the mild course pursued by that gentleman may possibly be attributed to his suggestion, he begs to assure General Dashwood that the reverse was the case, and that he strenuously counselled the propriety of laying a horsewhip upon the general’s shoulders, as a preliminary step in the transaction. “Count Considine’s address is No. 16 Kildare Street.” “Great God!” said I, “is this possible?”