After some considerable time, during which Minchin and the O’Byrne had indulged in a very serious potation of the Château Lafitte, “Are you here on a pleasure trip, Mr. Redmond?” asked Father O’Doherty.
“Well, my good fortune has made it one of pleasure, but I came originally on business. I came to endeavor to rescue some of my poor father’s property,” replied downright Phil.
“What do you mean by rescue, Mr. Redmond?” asked the O’Byrne, flushing darkly red.
“I mean, to purchase it from the man who now holds it.”
“Oh!” And his host tossed off a bumper of the wine. “Do you refer to Ballymacreedy?”
“I do, and to the lands of Kilnagadd and Derralossory.”
The beetling brows of the Irish chieftain met in a black scowl.
“And suppose this man who holds these lands were unwilling to sell?”
“Oh! every man has his price,” said the unconscious Philip.
The O’Byrne rose, and, stretching himself to his full height, haughtily exclaimed: