“And who is he?” asked Fergus; “out with it Cannie.”

“Well, then,” he proceeded, in a cautious and confidential whisper, “it’s said by them that ought to know, that he’s an illaygal brother to the Great Counsellor.  There now, you have it.”

“Is it to Counsellor O’Connell?”

“Ay, to Counsellor O’Connell—­divil a one else.  He’s as like him as two pays, barrin’ the color o’ the hair.  Sure the Counsellor puts every one down that crosses him, and so does Buck English.  Miss Katherine, darlin,’ won’t you buy something?  Here’s the best of everything; don’t be afeard of high prices.  My maxim always is—­to buy dear and sell chape, for the sake o’ the fair sect.  Come, gintlemen, Cannie Soogah’s pack is a faist for the leedies—­hem—­I mane a feest for the ladies—­hillo—­ha! ha! ha! there’s a touch of Buck English himself for you.  Well, of coorse, what’s a faist for the ladies must surely be a thrate to the gintlemen.”

Alick here availed himself of M’Carthy’s experience, and presented Miss O’Driscol with a beautiful bracelet; O’Driscol and Fergus purchased some pocket-handkerchiefs and other matters, and our Jolly Pedlar went on his way rejoicing.

Fergus O’Driscol who was a shrewd and keen observer, could perceive, during the foregoing interview, that there was on the pedlar’s countenance an expression of grave, hard, solemn irony, which it was difficult to notice, or having noticed it, to penetrate, or in any way analyse or understand.  To him it was a complete enigma, the solution of which seized very strongly on his imagination, and set all his powers of reasoning and investigation to work.  All admitted there was a mystery about Buck English; but Fergus felt a strong impression that there was one equally impenetrable about the pedlar himself.  Having little else, however, than a passing thought, a fancy, on which to ground this surmise, he prudently concealed it, from an apprehension of being mistaken, and, consequently, of subjecting himself to ridicule.

Fergus now brought Alick out to the garden, where they seemed to enjoy a very merry dialogue if several fits of hearty laughter may be said to constitute mirth; after this Alick went home; not, however, we should say until he first contrived to enjoy a short tete-a-tete with Miss O’Driscol.

When the hour for the departure of the magistrate to test the resolution of the “men in buckram,” who had resolved upon his assassination, had arrived, he most magnanimously got a double case of pistols, and in spite of all remonstrance from both son and daughter, he mounted his horse—­Duke Schomberg—­and in a most pompous and heroic spirit rode forth to quell the latent foe.