“Take a look at him first,” replied Lanty, “for if you are judge of a beast, you'll not refuse what I ask you.” With these words he lighted a candle, and placed it in an old iron lantern, which hung against the wall, and opening a small door at the back of the cabin, proceeded, by a narrow passage cut in the rock, towards the stable, followed by Talbot, Flahault remaining where he was, as if sunk in meditation. Scarcely, however, had the two figures disappeared in the distance, when he shook Mary violently by the shoulder, and whispered in a quick, but collected tone-- “Mary--Mary, I say--is that fellow all safe?” “Ay is he safe,” said she, resuming her wonted calmness in a second. “Why do you ask now?” “I'll tell you why--for myself I care not a sous--I'm here to-day, away to-morrow--but Talbot's deep in the business--his neck's in the halter--can we trust Lawler on his account--a man of rank and large fortune as he is, cannot be spared--what say you?” “You may trust him, Captain,” said Mary, “he knows his life would not be his own two hours if he turned informer--and then this Mr. Talbot, he's a great man you tell me?” “He's a near kinsman of a great peer, and has a heavy stake in the game--that's all I know, Mary--and, indeed, the present voyage was more to bring him over, than any thing else--but hush, here they come.” “You shall have your money--you've no objection to French gold, I hope--for several years I have seen no other,” said Talbot entering. “I know it well,” said Lanty, “and would just as soon take it, as if it had King George on it.” “You said forty pounds, fifty Louis is not far off--will that do?” said the youth, as he emptied a heavily filled purse of gold, upon the table, and pushed fifty pieces towards the horse-dealer. “As well as the best, sir,” said Lanty, as he stored the money in his long leathern pocket-book, and placed it within his breast pocket. “Will Mrs. M'Kelly accept this small token, as a keepsake,” said the youth, while he took from around his neck a fine gold chain of Venetian work, and threw it gallantly over Mary's; “this is the first shelter I have found, after a long exile from my native land; and you, my old comrade, I have left you the pistols you took a fancy too, they are in the lugger--and so, now good-bye, all, I must take to the road at once--I should like to have met the priest, but all chance of that seems over.” Many and affectionate were the parting salutations between the young man and the others; for, although he had mingled but little in the evening's conversation, his mild and modest demeanour, added to the charm of his good looks, had won their favourable opinions; besides that he was pledged to a cause which had all their sympathies. While the last good-bye was being spoken, Lanty had saddled and bridled the hackney, and led him to the door. The storm was still raging fiercely, and the night dark as ever.