“You promise, however, when the proper time comes, to make me acquainted with it?”

“Certainly, when the proper time comes; and if the thing ripen at all, you shall hear of it.”

“But listen,” asked O’Driscol, licking his lips as a man would when thinking of a good dinner; “is the matter you allude to a real, actual, bona-fide conspiracy?”

“An actual live conspiracy,” replied the proctor; “and as soon as it has reached maturity, and is full grown, you shall have all the honors of the discovery.”

“That will do, Mat—­hem, that will do my dear friend.  I shall have the Castle dancing with delight—­and whisper—­but this is honorable between ourselves—­any advantages that may result from this affair, you shall partake of.  The Castle and I understand one another, and depend upon it, your name shall be mentioned with all the honor and importance due to it.”

“This, then, was what you wanted with me?”

“It was, and upon my honor and conscience, you and yours, and I and mine, will have cause to rejoice in it.  Government, my dear Mat—­ahem—­is a generous benefactor, and aided by it we shall work wonders.  We shall, I trust, all be provided for—­your sons and my own fool—­M’Carthy, too, we shall not forget.

“All that will be very pleasant, I acknowledge,” replied the proctor, dryly, “and in the meantime good-by, and may God spare both you and me long life and happiness—­until then, and as long after it as we may wish for.”

Our friend M’Carthy, who was little aware of the liberal provision which the benevolence of his friend had in contemplation for him, was in the meantime likely to be provided for in a very different manner, and upon principles very much at variance with those of that political gentleman yclept the Castle, an impersonation which it would be exceedingly difficult to define.

CHAPTER IX.—­Sport in the Mountains.

In the course of that day Letty Lenehan, who had been musing over Mogue’s soliloquy in the barn, felt that kind of impression which every one has felt more or less under similar circumstances.  The fellow’s words left a suspicion upon her mind that there was evil designed against young M’Carthy by this smooth-going and pious hypocrite.  How to act she felt somewhat at a loss, but as the day advanced, the singular impression we have mentioned deepened, until she could conceal its existence no longer.  After dinner, however, she seized upon an opportunity of consulting her friend and lover, Jerry Joyce, who, by the way, had also been somewhat surprised at an expression which escaped Mogue in the morning.  On comparing notes, both came to the same conclusion, viz.,—­that there existed in the bosom of Mogue some latent hard feeling against M’Carthy.

“I am sure there does,” said Jerry, “and I think I know why too—­Mogue isn’t the only person that has a deadly hatred against Mr. M’Carthy; and indeed, Letty, I have raisons to fear that the poor young gintleman, for so he is by family and blood at all events—­is in great danger.  However, if it will make your mind aisy, I’ll see what can be done to get him safe over it this night.”