But the words were scarcely uttered, when a tremendous crash resounded through the whole building, and then a heavy noise like the fall of some weighty object. “'Tis the window he's bruk in--divil a lie,” cried Kerry, in an accent of unfeigned terror; and, without waiting a second, he rushed from the room to seek some place of concealment from Mark's anger. The clash of the massive chain was next heard, as it banged heavily against the oak door; bolt after bolt was quickly shot, and Mark, calling out--“Follow me--this way,” rudely pushed wide the door and entered the tower. A mere passing glance was enough to show that his excitement was not merely the fruit of passion--his eyes wild and bloodshot, his flushed cheek, his swollen and heavy lips, all betrayed that he had drank deeply. His cravat was loose and his vest open, while the fingers of his right hand were one mass of blood, from the violence with which he had forced his entrance. “Come along, Talbot--Holt, this way--come in boys,” said he, calling to those behind. “I told them we should find you here, though they insisted it was too late.” “Never too late to welcome a guest, Mark, but always too early to part with one,” cried the O'Donoghue, who, although shocked at the condition he beheld his son in, resolved to betray for the time no apparent consciousness of it. “This is my friend, Harry Talbot, father--Sir Archy M'Nab, my uncle. Holt, where are you? I'll be hanged if they're not slipped away; and with a fearful imprecation on their treachery, he rushed from the room, leaving Talbot to make his own advances. The rapid tramp of feet, and the loud laughter of the fugitives without, did not for a second or two permit of his few words being heard; but his manner and air had so far assured Sir Archy, that he stopped short as he was about to leave the room, and saluted him courteously. “It would be very ungracious in me,” said Talbot, smiling, “to disparage my friend Mark's hospitable intentions, but in truth I feel so much ashamed for the manner of our entry here this evening, that I cannot express the pleasure such a visit would have given me under more becoming circumstances.” Sir Archibald's surprise at the tone in which these words were delivered, did not prevent him making a suitable reply, while relinquishing his intention of retiring, he extinguished his candle, and took a seat opposite Talbot. Having in an early chapter of our tale presented this gentleman to our reader's notice, we have scarcely any thing to add on the present occasion. His dress indeed was somewhat different; then, he wore a riding costume--now he was habited in a frock richly braided, and ornamented with a deep border of black fur; a cap of the same skin, from which hung a band of deep gold lace, he also carried in his hand--a costume which at the time would have been called foreign.