“Danger, indeed! I wonder how many come through it. Pshaw! there's no use trying to count his pulse;” and he threw the hand rudely back upon the bed. “That's going as fast as ever his father went with the property.” A harsh, low, cackling laugh followed this brutal speech, which demanded all Sir Archy's predetermined endurance to suffer unchecked. “Do you know me?” said the doctor, in the loud voice used to awaken the dormant faculty of hearing. “Do you know me?” “Yes,” replied the boy, staring steadfastly at him. “Well, who am I, then? Am I your father?” A vacant gaze was all the answer. “Tell me, am I your father?” No reply followed. “Am I your uncle, then?” said the doctor, still louder. The word, “uncle,” seemed to strike upon some new chord of his awakened sense: a faint smile played upon his parched lips, and his eyes wandered from the speaker, as if in search of some object, till they fell upon Sir Archy, as he stood at the foot of the bed, when suddenly his whole countenance was lighted up, and he repeated the word, “uncle,” to himself in a voice indescribably sweet and touching. “He has na forgotten me,” murmured M'Nab, in a tone of deep emotion. “My ain dear boy--he knows me yet.” “You agitate him too much,” said Roach, whose nature had little sympathy with the feelings of either. “You must leave me alone here to examine him myself.” M'Nab said not a word, but, with noiseless step, stole from the room. The doctor looked after him as he went, and then followed to see that the door was closed behind. This done, he beckoned to Kerry, who still remained, to approach, and deliberately seated himself in a chair near the window. “Tell me, my good fellow,” said he, affecting an air of confidence as he spoke, “an't they all broke here? Isn't the whole thing smashed?” “Broke--smashed!” repeated Kerry, as he held up both hands in feigned astonishment; “'tis a droll smash: begorra, I never see money as plenty this many a year. Sure av there wasn't lashings of it, would he be looking out for carriage-horses, and buying hunters, not to say putting the kennel in order.” “Is it truth you are telling?” said Roach, in astonishment. “True as my name is Kerry O'Leary. We offered Lanty Lawler a hundred and twenty guineas on Friday last for a match wheeler, and we're not off of him yet; he's a big brown horse, with a star on his face; and the cob for the master cost forty pounds. He'll be here tomorrow, or next day, sure ye'll see him yourself.” “The place is falling to ruin--the roof will never last the winter,” broke in the doctor. “Well, and whose fault is it, but that spalpeen Murphy's, that won't set the men to work till he gets oak timber from the Black Say--'tis the finest wood in the world, they tell me, and lasts for ever and ever.” “But, don't they owe money every where in the country? There isn't a little shop in Killarney without an account of their's in it.”