“Well, I only say that if Mr. Norton can prevent it, it won’t happen.  I can wind this puppy of a lord, who has no more will of his own than a goose, nor half so much; I say I can wind him round my finger; and if I don’t get him to make himself, in any interview he may have with her, so egregiously ridiculous, as to disgust her thoroughly, my name’s not Norton—­hem—­ha, ha, ha!”

“Well, your name’s not Norton—­very good.  In the mane time more power to you in that; for by all accounts it’s a sin and a shame to throw away such a girl upon him.”

Norton now having gained all he could from his old acquaintance, got up, and was about to leave the room, when Morty, looking at him significantly, asked,

“Where are you bound for now, if it’s a fair question?”

“I will tell you, then, Morty—­upon an affair that’s anything but pleasant to me, and withal a little dangerous:  to buy a horse for Dunroe.”

“Troth, you may well say so; in God’s name keep away from horses and. jockeys, or you’ll be found out; but, above all things, don’t show your face on the Curragh.”

“Well, I don’t know.  I believe, after all, there’s no such vast distinction there between the jockeys and the gentlemen.  Sometimes the jockey swindles himself up into a gentleman, and sometimes the gentleman swindles himself down to a jockey.  So far there would be no great mistake; the only thing to be dreaded is, discovery, so far as it affects the history which I gave of myself to Dunroe and his father.  Then there is the sale of some races against me on that most elastic sod; and I fear they are not yet forgotten.  Yes, I shall avoid the Curragh; but you know, a fit of illness will easily manage that.  However, pass that by; I wish I knew what the old peer and the young one are discussing.”

“What now,” said Norton to himself, after Morty had gone, “can this M’Bride be scheming about in the family?  There’s a secret here, I’m certain.  Something troubles the old peer of late, whatever it is.  Well, let me see; I’ll throw myself in the way of this same M’Bride, and it will go hard with me or I’ll worm it out of him.  The knowledge of it may serve me.  It’s a good thing to know family secrets, especially for a hanger-on like myself.  One good effect it may produce, and that is, throw worthy Lord Dunroe more into my power.  Yes, I will see this M’Bride, and then let me alone for playing my card to some purpose.”

Dunroe found his father much as Morty had described him—­enjoying the fresh breeze and blessed light of heaven, as both came in upon him through the open window at which he sat.