“Sir Thomas Gourlay,” replied the stranger, with a proud smile on his lips, “I beg to assure you, once for all, that it is not my intention to notice, much less return, such language as you have now applied to me.  Whatever you may forget, sir, I entreat you to remember that you are addressing a gentleman, who is anxious in this interview, as well as upon all occasions when we may meet, to treat you with courtesy.  And I beg to say now, that I regret the warmth of my language to you, though not unprovoked, on a former occasion.”

“Oh, much obliged, sir,” replied the baronet, with a low, ironical inclination of the head, indicative of the most withering contempt; “much obliged, sir.  Perhaps you would honor me with your patronage, too.  I dare say that will be the next courtesy.  Well, I can’t say but I am a fortunate fellow.  Will you have the goodness, however, to proceed, sir, and open your negotiations? unless, in the true diplomatic spirit, you wish to keep me in ignorance of its real object.”

“It is a task that I enter upon with great pain,” replied the other, without noticing the offensive politeness of the baronet, “because I am aware that there are associations connected with it, which you, as a father, cannot contemplate without profound sorrow.”

“Don’t rest assured of that,” said Sir Thomas.  “Your philosophy may lead you astray there.  A sensible man, sir, never regrets that which is worthless.”

The stranger looked a good deal surprised; however, he opened the negotiation, as the baronet said, in due form.

“I believe, Sir Thomas Gourlay,” he proceeded, “you remember that the son and heir of your late brother, Sir Edward Gourlay, long deceased, disappeared very mysteriously some sixteen or eighteen years ago, and has been lost to the family ever since.”

“Oh, sir,” exclaimed the baronet, with no little surprise, “I beg your pardon.  Your exordium was so singularly clear, that I did not understand you before.  Pray proceed.”

“I trust, then, you understand me now, sir,” replied the stranger; “and I trust you will understand me better before we part.”

The baronet, in spite of his hauteur and contemptuous sarcasm, began to feel uneasy; for, to speak truth, there was in the stranger’s words and manner, an earnestness of purpose, joined to a cool and manly spirit, that could not be treated lightly, or with indifference.

“Sir Thomas Gourlay,” proceeded the stranger—­

“I beg your pardon, sir,” said the other, interrupting him; “plain Thomas Gourlay, if you please.  Is not that your object?”

“Truth, sir, is our object, and justice, and the restoration of the defrauded orphan’s rights.  These, sir, are our objects; and these we shall endeavor to establish.  Sir Thomas Gourlay, you know that the son of your brother lives.”

“Indeed!”

“Yes, sir; disguise it—­conceal it as you will.  You know that the son of your brother lives.  I repeat that emphatically.”