I pushed forward to follow, when suddenly a strong arm was stretched across my breast, and a gruff voice asked,--“Who are you?” Darby stepped back, and said something in his ear. The other replied, sturdily, in the negative; and although Darby, as it appeared, used every power of persuasion he possessed, the man was inexorable. At last, when the temper of both appeared nearly giving way. Darby turned to me, and said,--“Wait for me a moment, Tom, where you are, and I 'll come for you.” So saying, he disappeared, and the door closed at the same time, leaving me in darkness on the outside. My patience was not severely taxed; ere five minutes the door opened, and Darby, followed by another person, appeared. “Mr. Burke,” said this latter, with the tone of voice that at once bespoke a gentleman, “I am proud to know you.” He grasped my hand warmly as he spoke, and shook it affectionately. “I esteem it an honor to be your sponsor here. Can you find your way after me? This place is never lighted; but I trust you 'll know it better ere long.” Muttering some words of acknowledgment, I followed my unseen acquaintance along the dark corridor. “There's a step, here,” cried he; “and now mind the stairs.” A long and winding flight conducted us to a landing, where a candle was burning in a tin sconce. Here my conductor turned round. “Your Christian name is Thomas, I believe,” said he. At the same moment, as the light fell on me, he started suddenly back, with an air of mingled astonishment and chagrin. “Why, M'Keown, you told me--” The rest of the sentence was lost in a whisper. “It 's a disguise I made him wear,” said Darby. “He 'd no chance of escaping the country without it.” “I 'm not speaking of that,” retorted the other, angrily. “It is his age, I mean; he's only a boy. How old are you, sir?” continued he, addressing me, but with far less courtesy than before. “Old enough to live for my country; or die for it either, if need be,” said I, haughtily. “Bravo, my darling!” cried the piper, slapping me on the shoulder with enthusiasm. “That's not exactly my question,” said the stranger, smiling good-naturedly; “I want to know your age.” “I was fourteen in August,” said I. “I had rather you could say twenty,” responded he, thoughtfully. “This is a sad mistake of yours, Darby. What dependence can be placed on a child like this? He's only a child, after all.” “He's a child I'll go bail for with my head,” said Darby.