But first, you and I must come to an agreement. I, at least, have a lover's confidence that there is another side to your thoughts about Diana, and that another side has more reason to feel deeply than we, or than any man. He, I can guess, is your brother's brother, and you know it would grieve her heart--though she is your lover's friend--to know what had been done to him, or what has been left undone. I can say no more now--here or hereafter. But this I promise you, that if I return to Ireland, I will speak to him, and if I can do him justice, I will do it. At least, if not, I will help him to do it for himself. My heart bleeds for him. You can do that which you feel to be good towards him, if you will, Mr. Roche; and if you will not, well, then, it is my friendship and not his brotherhood I ask you for." I was about to answer, when I was startled by the sound of voices coming near. I could not help thinking what a contrast it was to the murmurs of the Atlantic! I listened, and I heard the voices of some policemen who were patrolling the gardens of Ballymartin. I turned abruptly to Mr. Roche, and he seemed in the same instant to realise that the interview must come to an end. "Let us come again," he whispered, "to-night, to-morrow, any time." "When I can. But I must be the one to see that the occasion is favourable," I said. "No, no, you must not do that," he answered; "no, no. Let _her_ ask, and if she desires you to see me, let you tell me." "I will tell you nothing until you promise," I answered. "I promise." "And nothing more?" "Nothing more," he repeated, and took my hand in his. It was now nearly one o'clock, and looking down from the wall, I saw the two policemen approaching and heard them saying they had been round the walls of the castle and were going to begin the ascent, which they expected would be difficult and protracted. Mr. Roche led me to the wall and put his arm in mine. "Good-bye, sir," he said, as we paused at the wall; "I will remember your words." V. When I returned to the house I saw from the distance a carriage waiting. I hurried to Mrs. Keogh and told her what Mr. Roche had said. She received my news calmly, and I saw that she had her reason for wishing that the young man might appear, and all my fears were dispelled. I felt that if he were seen by any of our friends, if any suspicion were given rise to, it would mar our plan. "I have had a talk with the steward," I said to Mrs. Keogh. "It's all right. He will keep the servants in the hall till after dinner, and when all is quiet I will slip out with some of them and let the young man in at the lower back door." "Will you tell no one else?" she asked. "Only my cousin and old Keegan. The men are sure to be about the garden." "Your cousin will sleep well to-night." "As to that I have no doubt; but you may depend upon it he will sleep soundly. Do you know, Mrs. Keogh, I believe he does it on purpose." "What makes you think that?" she asked, with a smile. "Because he takes no real interest in the affair. He is as dull a man as one could wish to see, and I think it vexes him to have any one interfere with his repose." "He will think nothing of what has happened to-night," she said, hastily. "It is very possible," I replied; "but in any case he will soon sleep it out. I will tell him in the morning, however. Good-night, Mrs. Keogh, and good luck to you. Is there nothing else?" "Nothing." I returned to the hall, and took from her an old white neckcloth. "I have got a white neckcloth from your room to wrap up in," I said, "for this young man." She smiled and nodded, and then stood and looked into the empty grate. "It was a mistake, sir," she said at last, "in your going in and waking him. You would have done better to let him sleep." I knew her anxiety, and answered: "You would not have had me suffer to-night. He is an old man, and would have suffered greatly." "But he would have been more angry, and would not have helped you in anything." "That is as it may be. You want him to help me, Mrs. Keogh?" "I want him, and all of them." "Well, I am sure they are your best friends." "They are more than that, and you shall see. I will talk to you to-morrow." "Do," I said, with some secret admiration, "and I will answer you to-morrow." She smiled, but said nothing, and I returned to my room. When I reached it, I found Mr. O'Grady on guard. "What do you want?" I asked. "I was wondering," he said, "what Mrs. Keogh would do if she had a bit of luck." "Did she not tell you?" "No." "Then you must take your oath she did not." "Take oath? Will she not take oath? She's too smart to do that. However, I'll stay, and I may as well put out the lantern, for it will not be up till to-morrow I'll be." "I am ready for bed," I said, impatiently. "You had best let me hear the news in the morning." "I will, if you like," he answered, laughing; "but you are getting anxious. Do you know, Mr. Barry, I was looking out for you?" "Did you think I had fallen down the stairs?" "That I did, sir. If I didn't think you were dead, why should I think you were mad?" "Because I may be mad, Mr. O'Grady, but I am not dead yet. Good-night." He went back, chuckling at the thought of the surprise he was preparing for us, and when he left me I undressed and slept. I knew that before him lay the most difficult task of all, and that when it was accomplished he might have his due share of my thanks. I was now confident that if I had seen the man at the window I should have been able to speak to him; but as I had not seen him I had to depend upon my other means. While Mr. O'Grady and the others were in the garden, I must get him away from the place. It would be hard work for me if I could not succeed, and I could hardly realise the fact that I intended to try and succeed. It seemed so much easier and more pleasant to do what was required of me by trusting Mr. Roche, and I was afraid lest I should fail. It was past one o'clock, and I determined to watch till I was assured--by my own conviction that I had had my fair share of rest--that I should not oversleep myself if I rose early. My bed had been very hard, and I had thought little of it, but now that I was awake and alone I felt my limbs fail me, and my head became heavy. I was very tired, and it was hard for me to keep my eyes open and keep myself awake. The afternoon was a heavy one, and all through the hours of the night the night noises--the noises of the old castle--continued. I fancied now that I heard the footsteps of the people in the other apartments, and the murmur of the voices of two or three was audible. Some one was awake in the neighbouring room, and the distant moaning, which in any other place and at any other time I would have found soothing, was now to me only a sign of the sleeplessness and disquiet of my mind. It seemed to be a part of the misery which had been caused by the suddenness of my return to Ireland, and its presence struck me with some alarm. But I was too excited to sleep and too intent upon the object which I had determined to accomplish before I slept to hear the night noises and the voices which came from the rooms around me. When the night was