“I hope poor old Nicholas is safe by this time. Could he have reached Cagliari by this?” said Lucy. “Yes, he is snug enough. The old rogue is sitting at his supper this minute, cursing the climate and the wine and the place, and the day he came to it.” “Come, Tom! I think he bears everything better than I expected.” “Bears everything better! Why, child, what has he to bear that you and I have not to bear? Is there one privation here that falls to his share without coming to us?” “And what would be the value of that good blood you are so proud of, Tom, if it would not make us as proof against petty annoyances as against big dangers?” “I declare time and place make no change on you. You are the same disputatious damsel here that you used to be beside the Shannon. Have I not told you scores of times you must never quote what one has once said, when it comes in opposition to a present opinion?” “But if I cease to quote you, Tom, whence am I to derive those maxims of wisdom I rely upon so implicitly?” “Take care, young lady,--take care,” said he, shaking his finger at her. “Every fort has its weak side. If you assail me by the brain, I may attack you at the heart! How will it be then, eh?” Coloring till her face and neck were crimson, she tried to laugh; but though her lips parted, no sound came forth, and after a second or two of struggle, she said, “Good-night,” and rushed away. “Good-night, Lu,” cried he after her. “Look well to your window-fastenings, or you will be blown away before morning.” END OF VOL. I. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sir Brook Fossbrooke, Volume I., by Charles James Lever