By the uncertain light of a wood fire, which threw in fitful flashes its glare around, I perceived that a sick man lay on a mean-looking, miserable bed in one corner of a dark room; beside him, seated on a low stool, sat another, his head bent down to catch the low breathings which the dying man gave forth from time to time. The heavy snoring sound of others asleep directed my eyes to a distant part of the chamber, where I saw three fellows lying on the floor, partly covered by a blanket. I had barely time to see this much, when the figure beside the bed sprang forward, and in a low but menacing tone, addressed M'Keown. The last words only could I catch, as he said, “And if he wakes up, he may know you still.” “And if he does,” said Darby, doggedly, “who cares? Isn't there as good blood as his shed for the cause? Look here!” He dragged me forward as he spoke, and, tearing open my coat, pointed to the sash that was now saturated with the blood that flowed at every stir from my wound. The other looked fixedly at me for a second or two, took my hand within his, and letting it fall heavily, he whispered a word to M'Keown, and turned away. “No, no!” cried Darby, violently. “By the holy Mass! ye 'll not trate me that way. Sit down, Master Tom,” said he, as he forced me into an old armchair beside the fire. “Here, take a drink of water. Come here, doctor; come here, now; stop the bleeding. Stand by me this wonst, and by this--” Here he crossed his fingers before him, and looked fervently upwards. But at this instant the sick man sprang up in his bed, and looked wildly about him. “Isn't that Darby? isn't that M'Keown there?” cried he, as he pointed with his finger. “Darby,” he continued, in a low, clear whisper, “Darby, see here, my boy. You often said I 'd do nothing for the cause. Is this nothing?” He threw back the bedclothes, as he spoke, and disclosed a ghastly wound that divided his chest, exposing the cartilage of the ribs, which stood out amid the welling blood that oozed forth with every respiration he made. “Is it nothing that I gave up rank, and place, and fortune; the broad acres that were in my family for three centuries; all my hopes, all my prospects--” “And if you did,” interrupted M'Keown, hastily, “you knew what for.” “I knew what for!” repeated the sick man, as a deadly smile played upon his livid face and curled his white lip. “I know it now, at least. To leave my inheritance to a bastard; to brand my name with disgrace and dishonor; to go down to the grave a traitor; and, worse still--” He shuddered violently here, and though his mouth moved, no sound came forth; he sank back, worn out and exhausted. “Was he there,” said Darby to the doctor, with a significant emphasis on the word,--“was he there to-night?” “He was,” replied the other. “He thinks, too, he fired the shot that did it; but, poor fellow! he was down before that. The boys brought him off. That child is going fast,” continued he, as his eye fell upon me.