as “deucedly sorry” for the old man’s death, but seemed to think that there might be consolation for that sorrow.  “I must go to Scroope immediately,” said Neville.  “I have explained it all to Johnstone, and shall start almost at once.  I shall first lie down and get an hour’s sleep.  I want you to do something for me.”  Simpkinson was devoted.  Simpkinson would do anything.  “I cut up a little rough just now when you mentioned Miss O’Hara’s name.”  Simpkinson declared that he did not mind it in the least, and would never pronounce the name again as long as he lived.  “But I want you to go and see her to-morrow,” said Neville.  Then Simpkinson sat bolt upright in bed.

Of course the youthful warrior undertook the commission.  What youthful warrior would not go any distance to see a beautiful young lady on a cliff, and what youthful warrior would not undertake any journey to oblige a brother officer who was an Earl?  Full instructions were at once given to him.  He had better ask to see Mrs. O’Hara,—­in describing whom Neville made no allusion to the dagger.  He was told how to knock at the door, and send in word by the servant to say that he had called on behalf of Mr. Neville.  He was to drive as far as Liscannor, and then get some boy to accompany him on foot as a guide.  He would not perhaps mind walking two or three miles.  Simpkinson declared that were it ten he would not mind it.  He was then to tell Mrs. O’Hara—­just the truth.  He was to say that a messenger had come from Scroope announcing the death of the Earl, and that Neville had been obliged to start at once for England.

“But you will be back?” said Simpkinson.

Neville paused a moment.  “Yes, I shall be back, but don’t say anything of that to either of the ladies.”

“Must I say I don’t know?  They’ll be sure to ask, I should say.”

“Of course they’ll ask.  Just tell them that the whole thing has been arranged so quickly that nothing has been settled, but that they shall hear from me at once.  You can say that you suppose I shall be back, but that I promised that I would write.  Indeed that will be the exact truth, as I don’t at all know what I may do.  Be as civil to them as possible.”

“That’s of course.”

“They are ladies, you know.”

“I supposed that.”

“And I am most desirous to do all in my power to oblige them.  You can say that I have arranged that other matter satisfactorily.”

“That other matter?”

“They’ll understand.  The mother will at least, and you’d better say that to her.  You’ll go early.”

“I’ll start at seven if you like.”

“Eight or nine will do.  Thank you, Simpkinson.  I’m so much obliged to you.  I hope I shall see you over in England some day when things are a little settled.”  With this Simpkinson was delighted,—­as he was also with the commission entrusted to him.