Much as O'Donoghue marvelled at the change effected in his own appearance by the court dress, he was still more surprised at finding what a complete transformation his friend Talbot had undergone. The scarlet uniform seemed to make him appear larger and fatter; while the assumption of a pair of dark whiskers added several years to his apparent age, and totally changed the character of his countenance. “I see by your face, Mark,” said he, laughing, “that the disguise is complete. You could scarcely recognise me--I may safely defy most others?” “But you are taller, I think?” “About an inch and a-half only--false heels inside my boots give me a slight advantage over you. Don't be jealous, however, I'm not your match on a fair footing.” This flattery seemed successful, for Mark smiled, and reddened slightly. As they drove along, Talbot entered minutely into an account of the people they should meet with--warning Mark of the necessity there existed to avoid any, even the most trivial, sign of astonishment at anything he saw--to mix with the crowd, and follow the current from room to room, carefully guarding against making any chance acquaintance--and, above all, not to be recognised by his cousin Kate, if by any accident he should be near her. In the midst of these directions, Talbot was interrupted by the sudden stoppage of the carriages in the line, which already extended above a mile from the Castle gate. “Here we are at last, Mark, in the train of the courtiers--does your patriotism burn for the time when your homage shall be rendered to a native Sovereign. Ha! there goes one of the privileged class--that carriage, with the two footmen, is the Lord Chancellor's, he has the right of the private 'entrée,' and takes the lead of such humble folk as we are mixed up with.”