“My brother, and mon Saint Pere!  Lucia! too delightful!  This is why they did not write.”  And Valencia sprang up, and was going to run down stairs to them, when she paused at Lucia’s call.

“Who have they with them’?  Val,—­come and look! who can it be?”

Campbell and Bowie were helping out carefully a tall man, covered up in many wrappers.  It was too dark to see the face; but a fancy crossed Valencia’s mind which made her look grave, in spite of her pleasure.

He was evidently weak, as from recent illness; for his two supporters led him up the steps, and Scoutbush seemed full of directions and inquiries, and fussed about with the landlady, till she was tired of curtseying to “my lord.”

A minute afterwards Bowie threw open the door grandly.  “My lord, my ladies!” and in trotted Scoutbush, and began kissing them fiercely, and then dancing about.

“Oh my dears!  Here at last—­out of that horrid city of the plague!  Such sights as I have seen—­” and then he paused.  “Do you know, Val and Lucia, I’m glad I’ve seen it:  I don’t know, but I feel as if I should be a better man all my life; and those poor people, how well they did behave!  And the Major, he’s an angel!  And so’s that brick of a doctor, and the mad schoolmistress, and the curate.  Everybody, I think, but me.  Hang it, Val! but your words shan’t come true!  I will be of some use yet before I die!  But I’ve—­” and Valencia went up to him and kissed him, while he ran on, and Lucia said,—­

“You have been of use already, dear Fred. You have sent me and the dear children to this sweet place, where we have been safer and happier than—­” (she checked herself); “and your generous present too.  I feel quite a girl again, thanks to you.  Val and I have done nothing but laugh all day long;” and she began kissing him too.

  “’How happy could I be with either,
  Were t’other dear charmer away!’”

broke out Scoutbush.  “What a pity it is now, that I should have two such sweet creatures making love to me, and can’t marry either of them?  Why did ye go and be my father’s daughters, mavourneen?  I’d have made a peeress of the one of ye, if ye’d had the sense to be anybody else’s sisters.”

At which they all laughed, and laughed, and chattered broad Irish together as they used to do for fun in old Kilanbaggan Castle, before Lucia was a weary wife, and Valencia a worldly fine lady, and Scoutbush a rackety guardsman, breaking half of the ten commandments every week, rather from ignorance than vice.

“Well, I’m glad ye’re pleased with me, asthore,” said he at last to Lucia; “but I’ve done another little good deed, I flatter myself; for I’ve brought away the poor spalpeen of a priest, and have got him safe in the house.”

Valencia stopped short in her fun.

“Why, what have ye to say against that, Miss Val?”

“Why, won’t he be a little in the way?” said Valencia, not knowing what to say.