“And so they have carried the bill,” said Conolly, with a sigh, as he listened to Darcy's account of the second reading. “Well, though I never was a Parliament man, nor expected to be one, I'm sorry for it. You think that strange, my Lord?” “By no means, sir. A man may love monarchy without being the heir apparent.” “Quite true,” chimed in the Knight. “I would even go further, and say that, without any warm devotion to a king, a man may hate a regicide.” Lord Netherby's eyes met Darcy's, and the wily peer smiled with a significance that seemed to say, “I know you _now_.” CHAPTER XXVIIII. THE HUNT-BREAKFAST The ball lasted till nigh daybreak; and while the greater number of the guests departed, some few remained, by special invitation, at the abbey, to join a hunting party on the following day. For this Lionel had made every possible preparation, desiring to let his English friends witness a favorable specimen of Irish sport and horsemanship. The stud and kennel were both in high condition, the weather favorable, and, as the old huntsman said, “'It would be hard if a fox would n't be agreeable enough to give the strange gentlemen a run.” In high anticipation of the coming morning, and with many a prayer against a frost, they separated for the night. All within the abbey were soon sound asleep,--all save the Knight himself, who, the restraint of an assumed part withdrawn, threw himself on a sofa in his dressing-room, worn out and exhausted by his struggle. Ruin was inevitable,--that he well knew; but as yet the world knew it not, and for Lionel's sake he resolved to keep his own secret a few days longer. The visit was to last but eight days; two were already over; for the remaining six, then, he determined--whatever it might cost him--to preserve all the appearances of his former estate, to wear the garb and seeming of prosperity, and do the princely honors of a house that was never again to be his home. “Poor Lionel!” thought he; “'twould break the boy's heart if such a disclosure should be made now; the high and daring promptings of his bold spirit would not quail before misfortune, although his courage might not sustain him in the very moment of the reverse. I will not risk the whole fortune of his future happiness in such a trial; he shall know nothing till they are gone; one week of triumphant pleasure he shall have, and then let him brace himself to the struggle, and breast the current manfully.”