'Yes,' he replied, 'I will canter over to Strogue to see what I can gather; a gallop by the beach will steady my nerves for the business of the infernal Four-courts. Tell Phil, Cassidy, to saddle the horses at once.' Cassidy humbly obeyed orders, while Curran, who was watching, laughed, despite his dreary thoughts. How translucent is the strategy of youth! The squireen's familiar manner of mentioning Doreen had stung her cousin, and filled him with a desire to warn her of the oaf's presumption. It was a fine excuse for stealing a delicious hour with a girl who loved not flirtation; who crumpled up her admirers with scorn; who might, without some such excuse, resent even a cousin's interference with the stern duties of matutinal chicken-feeding. 'Go!' Mr. Curran laughed, his conscience relieved, as he placed his hand on the broad straight back of his favourite. 'Go, lad, and learn what you can from that lovely conspiring siren. I think my Sally must go too, to protect you. Stop a minute while I write a line to my lady. I'm sorry we've not had so gay a time as usual--but sure gaiety is being squeezed quite out of us. One Doughan Dourish before we separate. Here's to Innisfail, and may God have mercy on her! And now good-night, or rather good-morning. I've a heavy day before me, and must e'en steal forty winks.' The party mounted their horses and rode away, and Mr. Curran went to bed and slept, quite persuaded now that Terence must go home and stop there. CHAPTER X. LOVES AND DOVES? Honest Phil saddled the horses and brought them round in a twinkling, delighted always with a journey to the Abbey; for did not red-haired Biddy, who held his large heart in keeping, abide at the shebeen foreninst the Little House with her mamma, Jug Coyle? Jug Coyle--the Collough--or wise woman, mistress of hidden arts, whose little public-house, on Madam Gillin's land, had grown more orderly than heretofore during the last few months. It was not that grooms and soldiers frequented it the less, but that, instead of sitting on the bench without, roaring ribald staves into the small hours, as had been the objectionable custom, they now preferred the innermost room with a well-closed door. Yet, roistering or silent, there was the shebeen with its mouldering thatched roof and discoloured whitewash walls, and one of its tiny windows roughly boarded up, at the very gate of the lordly Abbey--an undiminished eyesore to the chatelaine.