Hycy’s manner changed all at once; he looked at M’Mahon for nearly a minute, and said in quite a different tone—­

“What is the cause of this coldness, Bryan?  Have I offended you?”

“Not knowingly—­but you have offended me; an’ that’s all I’ll say about it.”

“I’m not aware of it,” replied the other—–­“my word and honor I’m not.”

Bryan felt himself in a position of peculiar difficulty; he could not openly quarrel with Hycy, unless he made up his mind to disclose the grounds of the dispute, which, as matters then stood between him and Kathleen Cavanagh, to whom he had not actually declared his affection, would have been an act of great presumption on his part.

“Good-bye, Hycy,” said he; “I have tould you my mind, and now I’ve done with it.”

“With all my heart!” said the other—­“that’s a matter of taste on your part.  You’re offended, you say; yet you choose to put the offence in your pocket.  It’s all right, I suppose—­but you know best.  Good-bye to you, at all events,” he added; “be a good boy and take care of yourself.”

M’Mahon nodded with good-humored contempt in return, but spoke not.

“By all that deserves an oath,” exclaimed Hycy, looking bitterly after him, “if I should live to the day of judgment I’ll never forgive you your insulting conduct this day—­and that I’ll soon make you feel to your cost!”

This misunderstanding between the two friends caused Hycy to feel much mortification and disappointment.  After leaving M’Mahon, he went through the market evidently with some particular purpose in view, if one could judge from his manner.  He first proceeded to the turf-market, and looked with searching eye among those who stood waiting to dispose of their loads.  From this locality he turned his steps successively to other parts of the town, still looking keenly about him as he went along.  At length he seemed disappointed or indifferent, it was difficult to say which, and stood coiling the lash of his whip in the dust, sometimes quite unconsciously, and sometimes as if a wager depended on the success with which he did it—­when, on looking down the street, he observed a little broad, squat man, with a fiery red head, a face almost scaly with freckles, wide projecting cheek-bones, and a nose so thoroughly of the saddle species, that a rule laid across the base of it, immediately between the eyes, would lie close to the whole front of his face.  In addition to these personal accomplishments, he had a pair of strong bow legs, terminating in two broad, flat feet, in complete keeping with his whole figure, which, though not remarkable for symmetry, was nevertheless indicative of great and extraordinary strength.  He wore neither stockings nor cravat of any kind, but had a pair of strong clouted brogues upon his feet; thus disclosing to the spectator two legs and a breast that were covered over with a fell of red close hair that might have been long and strong enough for a badger.  He carried in his hand a short whip, resembling a carrot in shape, and evidently of such a description as no man that had any regard for his health would wish to come in contact with, especially from the hand of such a double-jointed but misshapen Hercules as bore it.