As yet no one was stirring; and as I wished to have my arrival a secret from the family, after providing for the wants of my gallant gray, I lifted the latch of the kitchen-door--no other fastening being ever thought necessary, even at night--and gently groped my way towards the stairs; all was perfectly still, and the silence now recalled me to reflection as to what course I should pursue.

It was all-important that my uncle should know nothing of my quarrel, otherwise he would inevitably make it his own, and by treating me like a boy in the matter, give the whole affair the very turn I most dreaded.

Then, as to Sir Harry Boyle, he would most certainly turn the whole thing into ridicule, make a good story, perhaps a song out of it, and laugh at my notions of demanding satisfaction.

Considine, I knew, was my man; but then he was at Athlone,--at least so my uncle's letter mentioned.
Perhaps he might have returned; if not, to Athlone I should set off at once.

So resolving, I stole noiselessly up-stairs, and reached the door of the count's chamber; I opened it gently and entered; and though my step was almost imperceptible to myself, it was quite sufficient to alarm the watchful occupant of the room, who, springing up in his bed, demanded gruffly, "Who's there ?" "Charles, sir," said I, shutting the door carefully, and approaching his bedside.