“'T is a roll of notes I wanted to ax your honor about. Molly never 'let on' she had them till Friday last; and now that James is going away, and wants a trifle to fit him out--” “Why, they're French's Bank, man, that broke years ago,--they 're not worth a farthing!” “Arrah, don't say so, and God reward you,” cried the poor fellow, while his eyes filled up and his lip trembled convulsively; “don't take the hope out of my heart all at onst. Look at them again, your honor, and maybe you 'll think different.” “If I did, I 'd be as great a fool as yourself, Patsy. The bank is closed, and the banker dead this many a day; and I would n't give you sixpence for sixty thousand of them. Take him out in the fresh air,--give him a mouthful of water,” added he, hastily, as the wretched countryman staggered back, sick, and almost fainting with the sad tidings. “Mrs. Mooney,” said he, addressing a pale, mild-featured woman in a widow's cap and black gown, “you can't expect to hear from Dublin for a week or ten days to come. It takes some time to administer; but if you are in want of a few pounds--” “No, sir, thank you,” said she, in a low voice; “but as I can't go back to the place again,--as I 'll never be able to live there now--” “Don't be in a hurry, Mrs. Mooney, do nothing rash. None of us know what we can do till we 're tried. There's Miles Dogherty never thought he 'd be paying me that eight pound fifteen he owes me, and see now if he is n't come with it to-day.” “Faix, and I am not,” sturdily responded a very powerfully built man in the comfortable dress of a substantial farmer. “I don't owe it, and I 'll never pay it; and what's more, if you get a decree against me to-morrow, I'd sell every stick and stone in the place and go to 'Quay bec'.” “Indeed you would n't, Miles, not a bit more than I'd go and take the law of an old friend and neighbor.” “Faix, I never thought you would,” said the stout man, wiping his forehead, and appearing as if he had forgotten his wrath. “And now, Miles, what about that water-course?” said Nelligan, good-humoredly; “are you content to leave it to any two fair men--” As he got thus far, his eye for the first time fell upon Massingbred, who, with folded arms, was leaning against a wall, an attentive spectator of the whole scene. “That is a stranger yonder! what can he want here?” said Nelligan, who watched the attentive look of Massingbred's face with considerable distrust. He whispered a few words into the ear of a man beside him, who, making his way through the crowd, addressed the young man with-- “It's the master, sir, wants to know if he could do anything for your honor?” “For _me?_ oh, you spoke to _me?_” said Massingbred, suddenly recalled to himself. “Yes, to be sure; I wanted to know--that is, I was thinking--” And he stopped to try and remember by what device he had purposed making Mr. Nelligan's acquaintance.