“To America? No,--to France! That shall be the land of my adoption, as it is this moment of all my heart's longings.” His eyes sparkled, and a gleam of pleasure shot across his cold features, as if he caught a glow of the enthusiasm that lit up mine. “Come,” cried he, “I 'll think of this. Give me till tomorrow, and if you 'll pledge yourself to leave Ireland within a week--” “I 'll pledge myself to nothing of the kind,” replied I, fiercely. “It is to be free,--free in thought as in act,--that I would barter all my prospects with you. There must be but one compact between us,--it must begin and end here. Take a night if you will to think it over, and to-morrow morning--” “Well, then, to-morrow morning be it,” said he, with more of animation in his tone; “and now to supper!” “To bed, rather,” said I, “if I may speak my mind; for rest is what I now stand most in need of.” CHAPTER XVII. MR. BASSET'S DWELLING Excepting the two dingy-looking, dust-covered parlors, which served as office and dining-room, the only portion of Mr. Basset's dwelling untenanted by lodgers was the attics. The large brass plate that adorned the hall door, setting forth in conspicuous letters, “Anthony Basset, Attorney,” gave indeed a most inadequate notion of the mixed population within, whose respectability, in the inverse ratio of their height from the ground, went on growing beautifully less, till it found its culminating point in the host himself, on whose venerable head the light streamed from a cobweb-covered pane in the roof. The stairs were dark and narrow; the walls covered with a dull-colored old wainscot, that flapped and banged with every foot that came and went; while the windows were defended by strong iron railings, as if anything inside them could possibly demand such means of protection. I followed Mr. Basset as he led the way up these apparently interminable stairs, till at length the decreasing head room betokened that we were near the slates. Mumbling a half apology for the locale, he introduced me into a long, low attic, where a settle bed of the humblest pretensions and a single rush-bottomed chair supporting a basin were the only articles of furniture. Something like the drop curtain of a strolling theatre closed up the distance; but this I could only perceive imperfectly by the dim twilight of a dip candle, and in my state of fatigue and weariness, I had little inclination to explore further. Wishing me a good night, and promising that I should be called betimes next morning, Mr. Basset took his leave; while I, overcome by a long day of care and anxiety, threw myself on the bed, and slept far more soundly than I could have believed it were possible for me to do under the roof of Anthony Basset.