A cordial shake-hands ratified this compact; and Heffer-nan, who now saw that the fortress had capitulated, only stipulating for the honors of war, was about to add something very complimentary, when Beecham O'Reilly galloped up, with his horse splashed and covered with foam. “Don't you want to hear O'Halloran, Mr. Heffernan?” cried he. “Yes, by all means.” “Come along, then; don't lose a moment; there's a phaeton ready for you at the door, and if we make haste, we'll be in good time.” O'Reilly whispered a few words in his son's ear, to which the other replied, aloud,-- “Oh! quite safe, perfectly safe. He was obliged to join his regiment, and sail at a moment's notice.” “Young Darcy, I presume?” said Heffernan, with a look of malicious intelligence. But no answer was returned, and O'Reilly continued to converse eagerly in Beecham's ear. “Here comes the carriage, Mr. Heffernan,” said the young man; “so slip in, and let's be off.” And, giving his horse to a servant, he took his seat beside Heffernan, and drove off at a rapid pace towards the town. After a quick drive of some miles, they entered the town, and had no necessity to ask if O'Halloran had begun his address to the jury. The streets which led to the square before the court-house, and the square itself, was actually crammed with country-people, of all sexes and ages; some standing with hats off, or holding their hands close to their ears, but all, in breathless silence, listening to the words of the Counsellor, which were not less audible to those without than within the building. Nothing short of Beecham O'Reilly's present position in the county, and the fact that the gratification they were then deriving was of his family's procuring for them, could have enabled him to force a passage through that dense crowd, which wedged up all the approaches. As it was, he could only advance step by step, the horses and even the pole of the carriage actually forcing the way through the throng.