Mr. Dennis Garraghty appeared below, speaking in a magisterial tone. “Larry, my brother must have the horses.” “He can’t, _plase_ your honour--they’re engaged.” “Half a crown!--a crown!--half a guinea!” said Mr. Dennis Garraghty, raising his voice, as he increased his proffered bribe. To each offer Larry replied, “You can’t, _plase_ your honour, they’re engaged;” and, looking up to the window at Lord Colambre, he said, “As soon as they have ate their oats, you shall have ‘em.” No other horses were to be had. The agent was in consternation. Lord Colambre ordered that Larry should have some dinner, and whilst the postilion was eating, and the horses finished their oats, his lordship wrote the following letter to his father, which, to prevent all possibility of accident, he determined to put, with his own hand, into the post-office at Clonbrony, as he passed through the town. “MY DEAR FATHER, “I hope to be with you in a few days. Lest any thing should detain me on the road, I write this, to make an earnest request, that you will not sign any papers, or transact any farther business with Messrs. Nicholas or Dennis Garraghty before you see “Your affectionate son, “COLAMBRE.” The horses came out. Larry sent word he was ready, and Lord Colambre, having first eaten a slice of his own venison, ran down to the carriage, followed by the thanks and blessings of the widow, her son, and daughter, who could hardly make their way after him to the chaise-door, so great was the crowd which had gathered on the report of his lordship’s arrival. “Long life to your honour! Long life to your lordship!” echoed on all sides. “Just come, and going, are you?” “Good bye to you all, good people!” “Then _good bye_ is the only word we wouldn’t wish to hear from your honour.” “For the sake both of landlord and tenant, I must leave you now, my good friends; but I hope to return to you at some future time.” “God bless you! and speed ye! and a safe journey to your honour!--and a happy return to us, and soon!” cried a multitude of voices. Lord Colambre stopped at the chaise-door, and beckoned to the widow O’Neil, before whom others had pressed. An opening was made for her instantly. “There! that was the very way his father stood, with his foot on the step. And Miss Nugent was _in it_.” Lord Colambre forgot what he was going to say,--with some difficulty recollected. “This pocket-book,” said he, “which your son restored to me--I intend it for your daughter--don’t keep it as your son kept it for me, without opening it. Let what is withinside,” added he, as he got into the carriage, “replace the cloak and gown, and let all things necessary for a bride be bought; ‘for the bride that has all things to borrow has surely mickle to do.’ Shut the door, and drive on.” “Blessings be _wid_ you,” cried the widow, “and God give you grace!” CHAPTER XIII.