The omen hung over them doubtful.
A large square letter, with a great round seal, as big as a crown piece, addressed to the Rev.Hugh Walsingham, Doctor of Divinity, at his house, by the bridge, in Chapelizod, had reached him in the morning, and plainly troubled him.

He kept the messenger a good hour awaiting his answer; and, just at two o'clock, the same messenger returned with a second letter--but this time a note sufficed for reply.

''Twill seem ungracious,' said the doctor, knitting his brows over his closed folio in the study; 'but I cannot choose but walk clear in my calling before the Lord.

How can I honestly pronounce hope, when in my mind there is nothing but _fear_--let another do it if he see his way--I do enough in being present, as 'tis right I should.' It was, indeed, a remarkably dark night--a rush and downpour of rain! The doctor stood just under the porch of the stout brick house--of King William's date, which was then the residence of the worthy rector of Chapelizod--with his great surtout and cape on--his leggings buttoned up--and his capacious leather 'overalls' pulled up and strapped over these--and his broad-leafed hat tied down over his wig and ears with a mighty silk kerchief.

I dare say he looked absurd enough--but it was the women's doing--who always, upon emergencies, took the doctor's wardrobe in hand.