CONCERNING A SECOND HURRICANE THAT RAGED IN CAPTAIN DEVEREUX'S DRAWING-ROOM, AND RELATING HOW MRS.

IRONS WAS ATTACKED WITH A SORT OF CHOKING IN HER BED.
And the china bowl, with its silver ladle, and fine fragrance of lemon and old malt whiskey, and a social pair of glasses, were placed on the table by fair Mistress Irons; and Devereux filled his glass, and Toole did likewise; and the little doctor rattled on; and Devereux threw in his word, and finally sang a song.

'Twas a ballad, with little in the words; but the air was sweet and plaintive, and so was the singer's voice:-- 'A star so High, In my sad sky, I've early loved and late: A clear lone star, Serene and far, Doth rule my wayward fate.
'Tho' dark and chill The night be still, A light comes up for me: In eastern skies My star doth rise, And fortune dawns for me.
'And proud and bold, My way I hold; For o'er me high I see, In night's deep blue, My star shine true, And fortune beams on me.
'Now onward still, Thro' dark and chill, My lonely way must be; In vain regret, My star will set, And fortune's dark for me.
'And whether glad, Or proud, or sad, Or howsoe'er I be; In dawn or noon, Or setting soon, My star, I'll follow thee.' And so there was a pause and a silence.

In the silvery notes of the singer there was the ring of a prophecy; and Toole half read its meaning.

And himself loving a song, and being soft over his music, he remained fixed for a few seconds, and then sighed, smiling, and dried his light blue eyes covertly; and he praised the song and singer briskly; and sighed again, with his fingers on the stem of his glass.
And by this time Devereux had drawn the window-curtain, and was looking across the river, through the darkness, towards the Elms, perhaps for that solitary distant light--his star--now blurred and lost in the storm.