And now to go back to our company. From Lady Janet, intent upon everything which might minister to her own comfort or mortify her neighbor, to the smooth and soft-voiced Downie Meek,--with the kindest of wishes and the coldest of hearts,--they were, we grieve to own it, far more imposing to look at, full dressed at dinner, than to investigate by the searching anatomy that discloses the vices and foibles of humanity; and it is, therefore, with less regret we turn from the great house, in all the pomp of its splendor, to the humble cottage where Mr. Corrigan dwelt with his granddaughter. In wide contrast to the magnificence and profusion of the costly household, where each seemed bent on giving way to every caprice that extravagance could suggest, was the simple quietude of that unpretending family. The efforts by which Corrigan had overcome his difficulties not only cost him all the little capital he possessed in the world, but had also necessitated a mode of living more restricted than he had ever known before. The little luxuries that his station, as well as his age and long use, had made necessaries, the refinements that adorn even the very simplest lives, had all to be, one by one, surrendered. Some of these he gave up manfully, others cost him deeply; and when the day came that he had to take leave of his old gray pony, the faithful companion of so many a lonely ramble, the creature he had reared and petted like a dog, the struggle was almost too much for him. [Illustration: 050] He walked along beside the man who led the beast to the gate, telling him to be sure and seek out some one who would treat her kindly. “Some there are would do so for my sake; but she deserves it better for her own.--Yes, Nora, I 'm speaking of you,” said he, caressing her, as she laid her nose over his arm. “I'm sure I never thought we'd have to part.” “She's good as goold this minit,” said the man; “an' it'll go hard but 'll get six pounds for her, any way.” “Tell whoever buys her that Mr. Corrigan will give him a crown-piece every Christmas-day that he sees her looking well and in good heart. To be sure, it's no great bribe, we're both so old,” said he, smiling; “but my blessing goes with the man that's a friend to her.” He sat down as he said this, and held his hand over his face till she was gone. “God forgive me, if I set my heart too much on such things, but it's like parting with an old friend. Poor Mary's harp must go next. But here comes Tiernay. Well, doctor, what news?” The doctor shook his head twice or thrice despondingly, but said nothing; at last, he muttered, in a grumbling voice,-- “I was twice at the Hall, but there's no seeing Cashel himself; an insolent puppy of a valet turned away contemptuously as I asked for him, and said,-- “Mr. Linton, perhaps, might hear what you have to say.'” “Is Kennyfeck to be found?”