The landlady paused for a moment at the door, laid her finger upon her brow, thought for a minute or two, and then, having settled her whole plan to her own satisfaction, descended to the door, at which Mr. Dry, of Longsoaken, was making sundry inquiries regarding the personage for whose address he had, in the first place, applied to herself, and whom he evidently had not found out in his perambulations through the town. A part of what he said was heard by the hostess as she descended, so that she had a clue to what was going on, and, advancing towards him with a low, smart curtsey, she said--

"The dinner's quite ready, sir; and I have been thinking since you were gone, that I shall be able to-morrow morning to get you the address of the gentleman you wanted, for a man will be here with eggs who used to supply him, I know."

Mr. Dry looked up with a well-satisfied air, saying, "That is providential, Mistress Green."

"White, sir, White," said the landlady, dropping another curtsey; "my name is White, not Green--a different colour, sir; but it all comes to the same thing. Shall I call the young lady to dinner? It is in this room, sir."

"I will go myself, Mistress White," said Dry; and he was advancing towards the stairs, when the landlady, in; low and confidential whisper, added--

"Poor thing! she is very wild indeed. I went up just now to see if she wanted anything; and she is quite astray, thinking that she was here not long ago, and fancying that she knows all about the place. It's a sad thing to see; poor creature in such a state."

"Alack! alack! and so it is," rejoined Mr. Dry; "but it's God's will, Mrs. White, and so we must submit."

"Ah, sir! that's very true," answered the good hostess; "but yet one can't help pitying the poor girl. You are sure she is not dangerous, sir?"

"Quite sure," answered Mr. Dry: "It is only to herself. But if she were left alone to do what she will, I would not answer for it that you would not very soon find her in the Humber."

"Oh she must be looked to, sir--she must be looked to," replied the landlady. "Those are sad, dangerous cases. I remember right well when Jonathan Birkett, at Burton--he was my husband's second cousin, poor dear man--went mad, and hanged himself----"

"I will hear that story after dinner," said Dry in return, pushing past her, and opening the door of the room in which Arrah Neil was seated. But the good landlady had gained her point, having fully convinced Mr. Dry that she believed the poor girl whom he had brought thither to be perfectly insane; and her manner during the meal, which followed immediately after, served to confirm the worthy gentleman in that supposition, without at all inducing Arrah herself to imagine that her new friend had any doubt of her sanity.

Though the days had gone by when, as a universal custom, the landlord and his guest sat down together at the same table, and when, if the traveller presented himself at any other hours than those of the host's own meals, he was likely to remain hungry till the master of the house chose to eat, yet in all cases he who supplied the fare, and he who received it, were still much more intimately mixed up at meal times than in the present day, when the duties of the hostly office are done by deputy; and the landlord is intent upon any other cares than hospitable ones.

In the present instance, good Mrs. White remained in the room with her maid, who acted the important part of waiter, and ever and anon she meddled busily with the dishes, commended the viands to her guests, vaunted the excellence of the ale, strong waters, and wine, which her house afforded, and when not thus employed upon matters connected with her own immediate vocation, took part in the conversation of those who sat at table, with great freedom and satisfaction.

Towards Arrah Neil her tone was of that tender and kindly character, which might well be attributed by Mr. Dry to compassion for the mental affliction under which he had declared her to be suffering, and by the poor girl herself to interest in her fate and situation. But the good landlady was all the time busily engaged in watching eagerly the whole conduct of her male guest, and endeavouring, with all the skill which is afforded by long dealings with many of our fellow-creatures, to extract some information from all she saw regarding his intentions and objects. She perceived that the worthy man of Longsoaken was as tender upon her whom he called his ward as was consistent with his sanctified exterior, that he often whispered a word to her with a smile which contorted his harsh and weazened features into anything but a pleasant expression, and that he made a point of helping her himself to everything which he thought dainty; and from these and various other indications, Mrs. White was led to ask herself, "Does the old hypocrite seek her for a wife or a paramour?" and she internally added, "I'll spoil the game for him, that I will."

But, notwithstanding her secret resolutions, the good landlady remained perfectly civil and attentive to Mr. Dry; and guided by tokens, which were not to be mistaken by one of her experience, as to his fondness for certain creature comforts of existence, she at length produced some clear and brilliant liquid, the produce of the Dutch still, in a large flat-sided black bottle, and persuaded him to drink what she called a small glass thereof, though, to say the truth, the measure was very capacious. When he had drunk it, he set down the glass again; and looking up in Mrs. White's face, observed--

"It is very good indeed, madam, and may be permitted for the support of our poor, weak bodies after a long ride in such bleak and disconsolate weather."

"Take another glass, sir," said the hostess, who stood at the end of the table with the bottle still in her hand.

"On no account--on no account, Mistress White," replied her guest; "We may use such things discreetly, but by no means go into excess. I would not for the world--don't talk of it."

There are two ways, however, of understanding that same injunction, "don't talk of it," which those who have been accustomed to read the book of human nature find no great difficulty in applying properly; and in this instance, as in manner others, Mrs. White saw that it meant "Don't talk of it; but do it without talking," and therefore replying, "Oh, sir, it's very weak: it's so old, 'tis scarcely stronger than water," she poured the glass full, as it stood at Mr. Dry's elbow, while he turned round to say something to Arrah Neil on his other side.

The worthy gentleman took not the slightest notice of this proceeding; but looking up in Mrs. White's face, he said--

"And so you think, ma'am, that you will be able to get me Master Hugh O'Donnell's right address by to-morrow morning?"

"I am certain of it," replied the landlady, who thought there was no great harm in a little confidence, whatever might be the result.

Arrah Neil looked down in silent thought, and then raised her large, bright eyes with an inquiring look in the landlady's face; while Mr. Dry, as if in a fit of absentness, took up the glass, and sipped nearly one half of the contents before he recollected what he was about. He then, however, set it down suddenly, and inquired--

"Pray, can you tell me if Mr. Twigg the drysalter is now in Hull? A God-fearing and saintly man, Mrs. White, who used to hold forth to the edification of a flock that was wont to assemble at the tabernacle in Backwater alley."

"Oh, dear! yes, sir, he is in Hull," replied Mrs. White. "I saw the good gentleman only yesterday."

"Then I will go and visit him presently," answered Mr. Dry. "Humble-minded folks may always profit much of godly conversation; and to do him but justice, he is always ready to use his spiritual gifts for the benefit of others."

Thus speaking, Mr. Dry, after contemplating the glass for a moment, seemed to come to the conclusion that there was no use of leaving in it the little that remained. He accordingly tossed it off with a sudden motion of the hand, and then set it resolutely down upon the table again, as if defying the landlady, the Hollands, or the devil, to tempt him to take another drop.

The fiend and women, however have generally more than one way of accomplishing their object, and consequently Mrs. White, after having pronounced a eulogium on the graces of Mr. Twigg, and his friend Master Theophilus Longbone, the hemp-merchant, who was likewise an acquaintance of her guest's, she set down the bottle carelessly by Mr. Dry's side, and retired into a little room, with a glass window towards the passage, so constructed as to afford a view of the door of the house, with those of the chambers on the ground floor, and also of the foot of the stairs.

Here she remained for about half-an-hour, while sundry persons came in and out, spoke to her or to some of her attendant satellites, paid money, received change, brought in goods for sale, amongst which it may be as well to record six pairs of very fine pigeons in a basket, or applied for small quantities of cordials, which sometimes they drank upon the spot, sometimes carried away in phials.

At length the door of the room in which Mr. Dry had eaten his dinner opened, and that worthy gentleman appeared, holding Arrah Neil by the arm, and looking at her with a somewhat inflamed and angry countenance, from which Mrs. White augured that he was about to say something harsh and bitter to his fair companion. She prepared accordingly to interfere, fully resolved to protect the poor girl at all risks, even if she were obliged to call in the aid of the magistrates, town-council, and governor himself; although, to say the truth, she had no great love or reverence for any of the party now dominant in Hull.

Dr. Dry, however, uttered not a word, but led his poor victim up to her chamber--made her go in--and, locking the door, took out the key. Mrs. White smiled, as with quick ears she heard the various steps of this process, but sat quite still at what we should now call the bar, and marked the movements of Mr. Dry, as he descended and stood for a moment in the passage--those movements being somewhat peculiar, and indicating an internal perturbation of some sort. His back, indeed, was turned towards the worthy hostess, as he looked out of the door leading into the street; but she perceived that, with his feet somewhat apart, he first rested on his heels, then upon the soles, then upon his heels again, his body gently swaying backwards and forwards, and his hands in his breeches-pockets. Mrs. White had seen such oscillations before in other men; and, when Mr. Dry made up his mind to the course he was to pursue, and walked straight out into the street, she herself hastened into the eating-room, where the first object that she examined was the black bottle, which being held up to the light, exhibited a deficiency of at least one-half.

"Ay, the beast is well nigh drunk," said Mrs. White, speaking to herself; "but that's a small matter, if he does no more than get tipsy now and then. I'll warrant he'll be in a fine state when he comes home from Master Twigg's. He's just such another as himself; and they sit there, and drink, and cant, till they all go home crying or quarrelling, as if they were the most unhappy men in the world. Well, religion is a good thing in its way, and drink is a good thing; but they don't do mixed, any how."

Thus saying, she carried off the black bottle, placed it in its own peculiar receptacle, and then calling a girl whom she named Nancy to take her place in the bar, she walked quietly up to the room of Arrah Neil. It maybe recollected by the reader that Mr. Dry had carefully locked the door, and put the key in his pocket; but Mrs. White was not a person to be frustrated by such a simple proceeding, for putting her hand to her girdle, from which hung a ponderous bunch of variously formed pieces of iron, she selected one from the rest, which being insinuated into the key-hole, instantly turned the lock, and gave her admission to the chamber without the slightest difficulty.

Arrah Neil started up with a look of joy, brushing away some drops that had gathered in her eyes, and exclaiming, "Oh, I am so glad!"

"What, poor soul," cried Mrs. White! "you thought he had shut you up so that nobody could get to you. But I am not such a fool as to be without a master-key in my own house, so that if any other be lost I can always open a door. What has the old man been saying to you, my dear, and what made him look so cross?"

"Oh!" cried Arrah Neil, "he has been saying things I do not understand; and then he asked if I would marry him, and said, that if I would, I should have all his money at his death; but I told him, that if he had all the wealth in the world, I would sooner die."

"Ay, that's what made him cross," cried the landlady. "Men do not like such words as that, my dear. However, you did very right, for the sooner you let the old hypocrite know your mind, the better. He's a deep old villain, though, or I am mistaken. I saw you looked at me when he mentioned Hugh O'Donnell. Do you know any thing about him? Do you recollect the name?"

"Yes, I do," replied Arrah Neil. "I am sure I have heard it often; but it must be long ago.--Who is he?--What is he?"

"Nay, that I can't tell," answered Mrs. White. "I recollect him here, I think, in my husband's time; and I have seen him once or twice about, since then, in the streets of the town, and in the market. But I know nothing of him, except that he is a good sort of man, I believe. One sees such a number of people in a town like this! He's got a ship, I believe, and trades to Ireland."

"To Ireland," said Arrah Neil. And then suddenly breaking off, she added, "I wish I could get away. Cannot you let me out while he's gone?"

"Oh, that I can, my pretty lady," answered the hostess; "and you shall go away whenever you like. I won't stop you. But, I think, it will be a great deal better for you to stay a while, and see what all this comes to. We may find out something that may clear up the whole business; and, besides, what would you do if you were away? Without money you would be in a sad plight, and, I dare say, he does not let you have any in your pocket?"

"I have two crown-pieces," replied Arrah Neil; "and with that I am sure I could get to Annie Walton and her brother."

The widow shook her head with a sad smile. "'Tis a small sum to begin the world with," she said, "and all alone. Besides, they might overtake you. No, no, poor thing, leave it to me to settle some plan for you. I will answer for it, he shall not take you away from here, let him do what he will; and in the mean time I will set my wits to work to find out the whole of this story. But now let me hear who is this Annie Walton and her brother? Come, sit down by me, and tell me all you can recollect since the times we were talking of this morning. It may help me to find out the rest, and that's the great point."

Arrah Neil mused; not that she had any hesitation in relating to her companion all that her own memory served to recall, for it is not those who have had few friends that are suspicious, but those who have had friends that have proved false. She had too rarely met with the voice of kindness and sympathy not to yield her ear to it willingly, especially when it came from one who was linked to the sad, but sweet recollections of the past. She had lived so long in a dream, however--a dream from which nothing but the most important scenes and figures had stood forth in full light--that much was confused and indistinct; and she felt that she could but relate it as it presented itself to remembrance, might afford but a faint and misty image to a stranger. It was with the good widow's first question, then, that she commenced making her reply. "Annie Walton!" she said; "I wonder you have never heard of her, she is so kind and so good; every one knows her by her bounties."

"Ay, but if I understand right, my poor young lady, she lives a long way off on the other side of Coventry," replied the hostess; "and while wicked doings travel on horseback, the report of good ones trudges afoot. Like the waggoner's cart, it may be richly loaded, but is long a-coming."

"Well, then," answered Arrah Neil, "she is Lord Walton's daughter, sister of kind Charles Walton, who is now lord. The old man died two years ago, and the lady long before that. However, they have always been good to me, and to my poor old grandfather, ever since we went to live at Bishop's Merton. 'Tis a long while ago now; and between the time when I was here and the days I first recollect there, there seems a sort of gap, as if we had lived somewhere else. But I remember well our first arriving there, and going with my grandfather to look at two or three cottages, till at length he chose one just out of the town, upon the green, by the old church."

"Were you then quite alone with him as you went from Hull?" asked the landlady.

"Quite," answered Arrah Neil. "There was no one with us, and we lived there quite alone; and all the morning my grandfather used to teach me all he knew, and to make me read and write many an hour, and copy things out of books, and explain to me about different countries. I often thought it wearisome, for it used to keep me from thinking of things that were past, and from trying to bring back to mind people and places that seemed to cross my sight in haste, and disappear again like the motes that we see in the sunshine, which are lost as soon as they get into the shade. But he was a good, kind old man, and everybody loved him. The boys used to gather round him on the green at evening close, and listen to the stories he used to tell of the wars in Ireland; and Lord Walton, from whom he hired the cottage, was very kind too, and often used to stop and talk with him as he went by; and Charles, the young lord, and Miss Walton did the same. I used very often to go up to the house, too, and spent many a happy day there, though I sometimes fancy that, on account of my strange ways, and because I often fell into fits of thought, they believed I was somewhat weak in mind; but, if I could have seen this house, it would have soon brought my brain right. But, as I was saying, they were always very kind to me; and Charles Walton would spend many an hour at the cottage and listen to my grandfather's tales."

"Ay," said the hostess, "he was an old soldier, but he did not understand all the arts of war."

Arrah Neil looked up in her face with an inquiring air, but good Mrs. White only shook her head, and the poor girl proceeded. "Charles Walton was away in strange countries for a long time, and then again he went to the wars; but whenever he came back he used to visit us, though he grew graver and more thoughtful as he became older than he was when he was a youth and I was a child; and I began to feel somewhat afraid of him--no, not afraid, for he was always kind Charles Walton to me, but I felt timid when he spoke to me. However, his father died, and he became lord of all the country round, and he had much to do and was often away. About that time, this man, who is now here in Hull, began to come sometimes to the house, but my grandfather could not bear him; and though he treated him civilly, because he was now in great power in the little town, and every one seemed to do just as he bade him, and all were afraid of him, yet he was always cold and distant to him. One day, however, this Ezekiel Dry came in while he was out, and he took me by the hand and began to say things I did not understand, as he did to-night, and I tried to go away, but he would not let me. Just then my grandfather came in, and immediately there were high and threatening words; and my grandfather struck him with the staff he carried, and knocked him down upon the ground; then, taking him by the arms, he cast him out of the cottage like a dog. After that he did not come again for many months; and in the winter my poor old grandfather was taken ill, and remained ever after feeble and sickly; and when he used to hear of the doings of the parliament against the king it always made him worse, and he used to speak rash words, I fear. Once or twice he wrote letters, and sent them off by a man that sometimes came to see him, and he received answers too, which he burned as soon as he had read them. So it went on, till one day this summer the man Dry came with a number of soldiers, when my grandfather was very ill in bed, and said they had a warrant against him as a malignant who was plotting treason against the parliament, and they dragged him away in spite of all I could say, though I told them it would kill him. Lord Walton was absent then, and Dry would fain have prevented me from going with my grandfather; but one of the soldiers was kinder than the rest, and said I should go to tend the poor old man. They put us in a cart and carried us along, and day by day he grew weaker, till at length at Devizes he died. Before his death, however, just when his eyes were turning dim, he whispered to me, 'Go back quick to the cottage, Arrah, and in the back room behind the bed, you will find a bundle of letters and other things, which will tell you all about yourself--I cannot;' and he said no more."

"Did you find them? did you find them?" cried the landlady, eagerly.

"No," answered Arrah Neil, "for when I got back to the cottage it had been stripped of everything, and I, too, had been robbed of all I had taken with me by the soldiers on the road. One of them said that my gown was pretty, and he would have it for his wife; so I gave it to him for fear he should take it by force."

The good hostess had mused, paying little attention to the last few words, but at length she exclaimed, "He has got them, young lady. He has got those letters, depend upon it; ay, and he knows more of you than any of us. You must find means to get them back again; that is the only thing to be done."

"Alas! how can I?" cried poor Arrah Neil. "I am a mere prisoner, and unable to do anything for myself. Oh, if I could but escape, I should be content!"

"Nay, nay, be not so impatient!" said Mrs. White; "you shall escape in good time--I give you my word for that; but let us first find out all that we can, for I have a notion that your fortunes are better than they look, or else this man would not be so eager to keep you in his hands. You were no grand-daughter of old Sergeant Neil's--that I can tell you, and you may turn out a great lady after all. I am sure your poor mother looked and spoke like one of the best of the land, and I do not see why you should not have your rights as well as another."

"A great lady!" said Arrah Neil, in a musing tone, and with a melancholy shake of the head: "there is but one reason why I should like to be a great lady, and that is--to show my gratitude to those who have been kind to me."

"And a good reason, too," replied the landlady. "So you must not miss your chance, my dear."

"Dame White! Dame White!" cried a voice from below.

"Hark! they are calling me," said the hostess; and opening the door, she exclaimed, "Here am I; what do you want with me, Nancy?"

"Here are a heap of folks want to see you directly," screamed Nancy from the bottom of the stairs.

"I must go, my dear," said the widow, turning to Arrah Neil, "but I will be back with you directly;" and thus saying she left her.

But poor Arrah was disappointed in regard to the length of her absence, for more than an hour passed, and the door gave admission to no friendly face.