“Curse upon all priests!” said the other indignantly; “they are all the same; a crew of cunning scoundrels, who attempt to subjugate the ignorant and the credulous to their sway; a pack of spiritual swindlers, who get possession of the consciences of the people through pious fraud, and then make slavish instruments of them for their own selfish purposes.  In the meantime I shall keep my eye upon you, Mr. M’Mahon, and, believe me, if I can get a hole in your coat I shall make a rent of it.”

“It is a poor privilege, sir, that of insulting the defenceless.  You know I am doubly so—­defenceless from age, defenceless in virtue of my sacred profession; but if I am defenceless against your insults, Sir Thomas Gourlay, I am not against your threats, which I despise and defy.  The integrity of my life is beyond your power, the serenity of my conscience beyond your vengeance.  You are not of my flock, but if you were, I would say, Sir Thomas, I fear you are a bold, bad man, and have much to repent of in connection with your past and present life—­much reparation to make to your fellow-creatures.  Yes; I would say, Sir Thomas Gourlay, the deep tempest of strong passions within you has shaken your powerful frame until it totters to its fall.  I would say, beware; repent while it is time, and be not unprepared for the last great event.  That event, Sir Thomas, is not far distant, if I read aright the foreshadowing of death and dissolution that is evident in your countenance and frame.  I speak these words in, I trust, a charitable and forgiving spirit.  May they sink into your heart, and work it to a sense of Christian feeling and duty!

“This I would say were you mine—­this I do say, knowing that you are not; for my charity goes beyond my church, and embraces my enemy as well as my friend;” and as he spoke he prepared co go.

“You may go, sir,” replied the baronet, with a sneer of contempt, “only you have mistaken your man.  I am no subject for your craft—­not to be deceived by your hypocrisy—­and laugh to scorn your ominous but impotent croaking.  Only before you go, remember the conditions I have offered the scoundrel who robbed me; and if the theological intricacies of your crooked creed will permit you, try and get him to accept them.  It will be better for him, and better for you too.  Do this, and you may cease to look upon Sir Thomas Gourlay as an enemy.”

The priest bowed, and without returning any reply left the apartment and took his immediate departure.

Sir Thomas, after he had gone, went to the glass and surveyed himself steadily.  The words of the priest were uttered with much solemnity and earnestness; but withal in such a tone of kind regret and good feeling, that their import and impressiveness were much heightened by this very fact.