“You are quite mistaken, Bryan,” said he, “if you think that either he or I have any intention of neglecting your affair.  You know yourself, however, that he has not a moment for anything at the present time but this confounded election.  The contest will be a sharp one, but when it is over we will take care of you.”

“Yes, but it will then be too late,” replied Bryan; “I will be then a ruined man.”

“But, my dear Bryan, will you put no confidence in your friends?  I tell you you will not be ruined.  If they follow up the matter so as to injure you, we shall have the whole affair overhauled, and justice done you; otherwise we shall bring it before Parliament.”

“That may be all very well,” replied Bryan, “but it is rather odd that he has not taken a single step in it yet.”

“The memorial is before the Board,” said the other, “for some time, and we expect an answer every day.”

“But I know to the contrary,” replied Bryan, “for here is a letther from the Secretary stating that no such memorial ever came before them.”

“Never mind that,” replied Fethertonge, “he may not have seen it.  The Secretary!  Lord bless you, he never reads a tenth of the memorials that go in.  Show me the letter.  See there now—­he did not write it all; don’t you see his signature is in a different, hand?  Why will you not put confidence in your friends, Bryan?”

“Because,” replied the independent and honest young fellow, “I don’t think they’re entitled to it—­from me.  They have neglected my business very shamefully, after having led me to think otherwise.  I have no notion of any landlord suffering his tenant to be ruined before his face without lifting a finger to prevent it.”

“Oh! fie, Bryan, you are now losing your temper.  I shall say no more to you.  Still I can make allowances.  However, go home, and keep your mind easy, we shall take care of you, notwithstanding your ill humor.  Stay—­you pass Mr. Clinton’s—­will you be good! enough to call and tell Harry Clinton I wish to speak to him, and I will feel obliged?”

“Certainly, sir,” replied Bryan, “with pleasure.  I wish you good morning.”

“Could it be possible,” he added, “that the hint Hycy Burke threw out about young Clinton has any truth in it—­’Harry Clinton will do you an injury;’ but more he would not say.  I will now watch him well, for I certainly cannot drame why he should be my enemy.”

He met Clinton on the way, however, to whom he delivered the message.

“I am much obliged to you,” said he, “I was already aware of it; but now that I have met you, M’Mahon, allow me to ask if you have not entrusted a memorial to the care of Mr. Chevydale, in order that it might be sent up strongly supported by him to the Board of Excise?”

“I have,” said Bryan, “and it has been sent, if I am to believe Mr. Fethertonge.”

“Listen to me, my honest friend—­don’t believe Fethertonge, nor don’t rely on Chevydale, who will do nothing more nor less than the agent allows him.  If you depend upon either or both, you are a ruined man, and I am very much afraid you are that already.  It has not been sent; but observe that I mention this in confidence, and with an understanding that, for the present, you will not name me in the matter.”