“Never mind that, Flury; we'll soon repair that misfortune; it does not signify much.” “Does n't it, faith?” said the other, shaking his head dubiously; “'tis asy talking, but I can't turn my coat without showing the hole in it. 'T is only the rich can do that.” The Knight bit his lip; for even from the fool's sarcasm he could gather the imputations already rife upon his conduct. Another and a very different thought succeeded to this, and he blushed with shame to think how far his sense of his own misfortune had rendered him indifferent, not only to the kindly feelings, but the actual misery, of others. The right impulses of high-minded men are generally rapid in their action, like the spring of the bent bow when the cord is cut asunder. It did not cost Darcy many minutes to be again the warm-hearted, generous soul nature had made him. “Come, Flury,” said he to the poor fellow, as he stood ruefully surveying his damaged drapery, “give that among the people there in the town, and keep this for yourself.” “This is goold, Maurice,--yellow goold!” “So it is; but you're not the less welcome to it; tell them, too, that I have had troubles of my own lately; and that's the reason I hurried on without exchanging a word with them.” “How do you know, Maurice, but I'll keep it all to myself?”. “I'd trust you with a heavier sum,” said the Knight, smiling. “I know why,--I know why, well enough,--because I'm a fool. Never mind, there's greater fools nor me going. What did they give you up there for your vote, Maurice,--tell me, how much was it?” The Knight shook his head, and Flury resumed: “Didn't I say it? Wasn't I right? By my ould hat! there's two fools in the country now;--Maurice Darcy and Red Flury; and Maurice the biggest of the two! Whoop, the more the merrier; there 's room for us all!” And with this wise reflection, Flury gave a very wild caper and a wilder shout, and set off at the speed of a hare towards Castlebar. The Knight resumed his journey, and in a more contented mood. The little incident had called on him for an exertion, and his faculties only needed the demand to respond to the call. He summoned to his aid, besides, every comforting reflection in his power; he persuaded himself that there were some hopes remaining still, and tried to believe the evil not beyond remedy. “After all,” thought he, “we are together; it is not death has been dealing with us, nor is there any stain upon our fair fame; and, save these, all ills are light, and can be borne.” From thoughts like these he was aroused by the heavy clank of the iron gate, as it fell back to admit the carriage within the park, while a thousand welcomes saluted him. “Thank you, Darby!--thank you, Mary! All well up at the abbey?”