“Leave that to me, Bob; I think I've seen enough of them things to know them now. When I 've carried my point, and all's safe and secure, you 'll see me like the pope we read of, that looked all but dead till they elected him, and then stood up stout and hearty five minutes after,--we 'll have a miracle of this kind in our own family.” “I suspect, sir, we shall have difficulty in obtaining an interview,” said O'Reilly. “No!” rejoined the old man, with a scarcely perceptible twinkle of his fishy eyes. “Nalty 's of my opinion, and thinks that Lady Eleanor will positively decline it.” “No,” echoed he once more. “And that, without any suspicion of our plan, she will yet refuse to receive you.” “I 'm not going to ask her, Bob,” croaked the old doctor, with a species of chuckling crow in his voice. “Then you have abandoned your intention,” exclaimed O'Reilly, in dismay, “and the whole journey has been incurred for nothing.” “No!” said the doctor, whose grim old features were lit up with a most spiteful sense of his superior cunning. “Then I don't understand you,--that's clear,” exclaimed O'Reilly, testily. “You say that you do not intend to call upon her--” “Because she's coming here to see me,” cried the old man, in a scream of triumph; “read that, it's an answer to a note I sent off at eight o'clock. Joe waited and brought back this reply.” As he spoke, he drew from beneath his pillow a small note, and handed it to his son. O'Reilly opened it with impatience, and read:-- “Lady Eleanor Darcy begs to acknowledge the receipt of Dr. Hickman's note, and, while greatly indisposed to accept of an interview which must be so painful to both parties without any reasonable prospect of rendering service to either, feels reluctant to refuse a request made under circumstances so trying. She will therefore comply with Dr. Hickman's entreaty, and, to spare him the necessity of venturing abroad in this severe weather, will call upon him at twelve o'clock, should she not learn in the meanwhile that the hour is inconvenient.” “Lady Eleanor Darcy come out to call upon you, sir!” said O'Reilly, with an amazement in part simulated to flatter the old man's skill, but far more really experienced. “This is indeed success.” “Ay, you may well say so,” chimed in the old man; “for besides that I always look ten years older when I 'm in bed and unshaved, with my nightcap a little off,--this way,--the very sight of these miserable walls, green with damp and mould, this broken window, and the poverty-struck furniture, will all help, and I can get up a cough, if I only draw a long breath.” “I vow, sir, you beat us all; we are mere children compared to you. This is a master-stroke of policy.” “What will Nalty say now--eh, Bob?”