“I think it’s very likely he would. I don’t think he’ll bind himself to go to the drop exactly; but I take it he’ll not boggle about a reasonable term of imprisonment, and perhaps ‘hard labour.’” “Will you write for him, then?” “Not without you are fully determined to employ him. If you pledge me your word to this, I will write.” “If I pay him----” “No, no, I’ll have none of that! These Irish fellows, even in their most questionable dealings, have a point of honour-sense about them, that makes them very dangerous men to deal with. Let them only suspect any intention of a slight, and their old Spanish blood, I suppose it is, takes fire at once.” “Let me have a night to think it over.” “Take a week, take a month, if Sir Within will give it to you. You are your own master, and need not ask for time from any one.” “I’d like to reflect well on it. It is too serious a thing to do without good consideration.” “Do so by all means, and begin at once, for I want to ring for my servant and have my bath.” “I wish you’d have a little more patience; one can’t decide on a thing of this sort in five minutes.” “Who asks you, my dear fellow--who presses you? I only beg to be allowed to get up and dress myself, and a not very unreasonable request, seeing that it is close on five o’clock, and you have been here since three.” “Well, I’ll do it, come what may of it. I’ll do it.” “Take the night to consider it.” “No, I am resolved on it. I’ll do it.” “Very well; we are too late for the post to-night, but I’ll write to this man after dinner, and by that time you will have fully made up your mind. Now go, or I’ll begin to regret the day and the hour I ever thought of giving you counsel.” “You are the most impatient fellow I ever met in my life,” said Ladarelle, as he arose reluctantly, and with unwilling steps sauntered out of the room. CHAPTER XXXIX. WITH DOCTORS On the evening of the same day, Sir Within sat alone in his grand old dining-room. The servants had withdrawn and left him in solitary splendour, for the massive plate glittered on the sideboard, and the blaze of many wax-lights illuminated the three or four great pictures of Rubens’ on the walls, and sparkled over the richly-cut glass that figured amongst the desert, and there, amidst all, sat that old man--pale, wan, and careworn--to all seeming several years older than one short week ago. A small table at his side was littered with letters and law papers; but though he had gone for them to his study, he never noticed them, so deeply was his mind bent on other thoughts. At last he looked at his watch, and then arising, he rang the bell. “Doctor Price is still above stairs?” said he, in a tone of inquiry. “Yes, Sir Within.” “And you are quite certain you told him to come to me before he left the Castle?” “Yes, Sir Within.” “That will do,” said he, with a sigh.