“What _is_ the matter?” said Roland at last, losing patience at a preoccupation that could not be broken in upon. “Is Mr. Corrigan ill?” “He is ruined!” said Tiernay, dropping Cashel's arm, and letting fall his own as he spoke, with a gesture of despair. “What do you mean? How?” “Ruined! utterly ruined!” re-echoed Tiernay; and there was that in his accent and the emotion of his manner that forbade any further questioning. “It is not at a moment like this,” said the doctor, “that I can tell you a long tale, where treachery and falsehood on one side, and generosity and manliness on the other, played the game as ever it has been, and ever will be played, between such antagonists;--enough, if I say my poor friend became responsible for the debts of a man who, but for his aid, would have had a felon's fate. This fellow, who possesses one terrible means of vengeance, threatens now to use it, if a demand be not complied with, which Corrigan may leave himself a beggar and yet not satisfy. The threat has been held over him for years, and for years he has struggled on, parting, one by one, with every little requirement of his station, and submitting with noble resignation to any and every thing to stave off the evil day; but it has come at last.” “And what is the sum demanded?” said Cashel, hastily. “I cannot tell. There are various bills; some have been renewed again and again, others are yet current. It is a tangled web, and, in our hopelessness, we never sought to unravel it!” “But the danger is imminent?” “So imminent that my friend will be arrested to-morrow if bail be not forthcoming. I have not told him this; I dare not tell him so; but I have made up a story to induce him to leave this to-night.” “Where for?” cried Roland, anxiously. “God knows! I lose memory as well as judgment in moments like this. I believe I advised Limerick, and thence by ship to some port in England, from which they could reach the Continent.” “But all this will be unnecessary if I offer myself as security,” said Roland. “For a sum of which you know nothing!” muttered Tiernay, sorrowfully. “No matter; it cannot be, in all likelihood, more than I can meet.” “And for one who can never repay!” echoed the doctor still more sadly. “Who can tell that?” said Cashel. “There's many a coinage costlier than ever the mint fashioned; he may requite me thus.” The doctor started. “You mean--no!--no!” cried he, interrupting himself, “that were too great good fortune. I must tell you, sir,” added he, in a firm voice, “that there is nothing--absolutely nothing--to give you in requital for such aid. My friend's alternative is a prison, or be your debtor for what he cannot pay.” “I am content,--perfectly content,” said Roland. “There is no need to say another word on the matter. Do not suffer him to endure any anxiety we can spare him; tell him at once the thing is done.”