We need scarcely assure our readers that honest and affectionate Barney Casey felt a deep interest in the recovery of the generous and kind-hearted Charles Lindsay, nor that he allowed a single day to pass without going, at least two or three times, to ascertain whether there was any appearance of his convalescence. On the day following that on which Mrs. Lindsay had declared the future disposition of her property he went to see Charles as usual, when the latter, after having stated to him that he felt much better, and the fever abating, he said,-- “Casey, I have rather strange news for you.” “Be it good, bad, or indifferent, sir,” replied Barney, “you could tell me no news that would plaise me half so much as that there is a certainty of your gettin' well again.” “Well, I think there is, Barney. I feel much better to-day than I have done for a long while--but the news, are you not anxious to hear it?” “Why, I hope I'll hear it soon, Masther Charles, especially if it's good; but if it's not good I'm jack-indifferent about it.” “It is good, Barney, to me at least, but not so to my brother Woodward.” Barney's ears, if possible, opened and expanded themselves on hearing this. To him it was a double gratification: first, because it was favorable to the invalid, to whom he was so sincerely attached; and secondly, because it was not so to Woodward, whom he detested. “My mother yesterday told me that she has made up her mind to leave me all her property if I recover, instead of to Harry, for whom she had originally intended it.” Barney, on hearing this intelligence, was commencing to dance an Irish jig to his own music, and would have done so were it not that the delicate state of the patient prevented him. “Blood alive, Masther Charles!” he exclaimed, snapping his fingers in a kind of wild triumph, “what are you lying there for? Bounce to your feet like a two-year ould. O, holy Moses, and Melchisedek the divine, ay, and Solomon, the son of St. Pettier, in all his glory, but that is news!” “She told my brother Woodward, face to face, that such was her fixed determination.” “Good again; and what did he say?” “Nothing particular, but that he was glad it was to stay in the family, and not go to strangers, like our uncle's--alluding, of course, to his will in favor of dear Alice Goodwin.” “Ay, but how did he look?” asked Barney. “I didn't observe, I was rather in pain at the time; but, from a passing glimpse I got, I thought his countenance darkened a little; but I may be mistaken.” “Well, I hope so,” said Barney. “I hope so--but--well, I am glad to find you are betther, Masther Charles, and to hear the good piece of fortune you have mentioned. I trust in God your mother will keep her word--that's all.” “As for myself,” said Charles, “I am indifferent about the property; all that presses upon my heart is my anxiety for Miss Goodwin's recovery.”