Although O'Reilly affected to smile at the old rhyme, his cheek became deadly pale, and his hand shook as he lifted the glass to his lips. It was no vulgar sense of fear, no superstitious dread that moved his cold and calculating spirit, but an emotion of suppressed anger that the ancient splendor of the Darcys should be thus placed side by side with his own unhonored and unknown family. “I don't think I ever knew one of these good legends have even so much of truth,--though the credit is now at an end,” said Heffernau, gayly. “I'll engage old Darcy's butler wouldn't agree with you,” replied St. George. “Ay, and Maurice himself had a great dash of old Irish superstition in him, for a clever, sensible fellow as he was.” “It only remains for my friend here, then, to fit up a room for the Darcys and invite them to die there at their several conveniences,” said Con, laughing. “I see no other mode of fulfilling the destiny.” “There never was a man played his game worse,” resumed St. George, who with a pertinacious persistence continued the topic. “He came of age with a large unencumbered estate, great family influence, and a very fair share of abilities. It was the fashion to say he had more, but I never thought so; and now, look at him!” “He had very heavy losses at play,” said Heffernan, “certainly.” “What if he had? They never could have materially affected a fortune like his. No, no. I believe 'Honest Tom' finished him,--raising money to pay off old debts, and then never clearing away the liabilities. What a stale trick, and how invariably it succeeds!” “You do not seem, sir, to take into account an habitually expensive mode of living,” insinuated O'Reilly, quietly. “An item, of course, but only an item in the sum total,” replied St. George. “No man can eat and drink above ten thousand a year, and Darcy had considerably more. No; he might have lived as he pleased, had he escaped the acquaintance of honest Tom Gleeson. By the by, Con, is there any truth in the story they tell about this fellow, and that he really was more actuated by a feeling of revenge towards Darcy than a desire for money?” “I never heard the story. Did you, Mr. O'Reilly?” asked Heffernan. “Never,” said O'Reilly, affecting an air of unconcern, very ill consorting with his pale cheek and anxious eye.