“Ah, Mister M'Keown, is this you? Ah, I'm afeard it 's little use there is in coming here to-night; Mr. Fortescue's dying within, and Doctor Kenagh can't leave him, I 'm bringing him this to take, but--” “Nora, dear,” said Darby, “I 've a secret for Mr. Fortescue, and must see him before he dies. Here 's a crown, my darlin', and don't tell any one I gave it to ye.” Here he stooped down, and whispered rapidly some words in her ear. “Who 's there?” broke in the hag 's voice from within. “'T is me; Nora,” said the child, boldly. “Are ye alone, there? do ye see any one about the door?” “Sorra one. Can't you let me in out of the cowld?” “Come in quick, then,” said the crone, as she opened the door carefully, and only wide enough to let the child pass; but the same instant Darby dashed forward his foot, and flinging the door full wide, seized me by the collar, and dragged me in after him, closing the door at once behind him. The screams of the hag, though loud and vehement, were as unheeded as were Darby's own efforts to attract notice half an hour before. “Be quiet, I say; hush yer crying, or be the sowl o' the man that 's dyin' I 'll dhrive a ball through ye.” The sight of a pistol barrel seemed at last to have its effect, and she contented herself with a low wailing kind of noise, as she tottered after us along the passage. The cold air of the street and the rest combined had given me strength, and I was able to follow Darby as he led the way through many a passage and up more than one stair. “Here it is,” said the child, in a whisper, as she stopped at the door of a room which lay half ajar. We halted in silence, and listened to the breathings of a man whose short, sobbing respiration, broken by hiccup, denoted the near approach of death. “Go on,” cried a deep, low voice, in a tone of eagerness; “ye 'll not have the cough now for some time.” The sick man made no reply, but his hurried breathing seemed to show that he was making some unwonted effort. At last he spoke, but in a voice so faint and husky, we could not hear the words. The other, however, appeared to listen, and by a stray monosyllable, dropped at intervals, to follow the tenor of his speech. At last the sound ceased, and all was still. “Go in now,” said Darby, in a whisper, to the child; “I 'll follow you.” The little girl gently pushed the door and entered, followed by M'Keown, who, however, only advanced one foot within the room, as if doubting what reception he should meet with.