Cassidy busied himself in 'claring the coorse,' as he termed it; and while he did so, the aggrieved chancellor watched him with a sullen and lowering gaze. It was quite dark by this time. 'Terence,' he said presently, with unaccustomed kindness in his voice, 'come hither. You dislike me, I know; and no wonder, prejudiced as you necessarily are by the company you choose to keep. Yet, for your mother's sake, I fain would be your friend. You are a plucky fellow. I honour pluck, and genuinely like you, for yourself, in spite of you. I'm not so bad as I'm painted. Few people are. I'll give you a bit of advice. Act on it.' Curran approached to listen (comforted, though he had not killed his enemy, by the axiom he was so fond of quoting, that the devil, who is more powerful than the best of men, looks after his own). He was amazed to behold quite a human look on the dragon's face. The toothsome smile, so redolent of falseness, was gone; the hatchet lines had curled themselves up into a mask which really resembled _bonhomie_. Can grapes grow on thistles? Was it possible that this adamantine nature could be softened? Wonders will never cease, although some people do say that there's nothing new under the sun. Curran listened, trying to follow the direction of those wandering eyes in the obscurity which he could not pierce. 'Terence,' the chancellor said, 'you have a foe--unscrupulous and bitter--who will ruin you if possible. I know not why. Be very careful, or you will come to ruin. One foe in the dark is worse than a score by day. You have slighted that enemy somehow. You are on the edge of quicksand; once beyond the brink, you must be swallowed up. For your dear mother's sake I will save you while I can. But I may not be here always. A thousand things might happen. It's due to her as well as to yourself to keep yourself free from obloquy. Think how her pride would suffer. Take off that ridiculous necktie.' Honest Phil was also listening with craned neck and goggle eyes. 'It must be Biddy. She hates Master Terence, does she?' he muttered to himself. 'Why? maybe she thought him comely, and he would have naught to do wid her, being so tight entranced by Mistress Doreen, God bless her! Faix, she's a bad lot--taking to sodgers! And I thought her fit for Paradise. I saw her just now by the quickset beyant, in her velvet hat and feathers, and my lord saw her too, no doubt. I'll tell the masther who 'tis that's working the mischief, and set his mind at rest.' 'Half-confidences are worse than none, my lord,' blurted out Curran. 'If you'd really do the lad a turn, speak out. Why give him a nut to crack?' 'Betwixt you and me, sir,' Clare said with hauteur, 'there can be nothing but animosity. I try to make things as pleasant as I can, and you publicly insult me. I purposely fire wide; you try all you know to kill me. I would gladly have been your friend.'