“And that will strengthen the claim,” replied the young man, with a grin.  “I don’t look too old, I hope?”

“There’s only two years’ difference between you and the boy, your brother, that’s dead,” said his mother.  “But I wish we were well through with this.  My past life seems to me like a dream.  My contemplated revenge upon that bad man, and my ambition for this boy, are the only two principles that now sustain me.  What a degraded life has Thomas Gourlay caused me to lead!  But I really think that I saw into futurity; nay, I am certain of it; otherwise, what put hundreds of predictions into my lips, that were verified by the event?”

There was a momentary expression of wildness in her eye as she spoke, which the others observed with pain.

“Come, Ginty,” said her brother, “keep yourself steady now, at all events; be cool and firm, till we punish this man.  If you want to know why you foretold so much, I’ll tell you.  It was because you could put two and two together.”

“My whole life has been a blank,” she proceeded, “an empty dream—­a dead, dull level; insanity, vengeance, ambition, all jostling and crossing each other in my unhappy mind; not a serious or reasonable duty of life discharged; no claim on society—­no station in the work of life—­an impostor to the world, and a dupe to myself; but it was he did it.  Go on; form your plans—­make them firm and sure; for, by Him who withdrew the light of reason from my spirit—­by Him from whom it came, I will have vengeance.  Father, I know you well, and I am your daughter.”

“You know me well, do you?” he replied, with his usual grin.  “Maybe you do, and maybe you don’t; but let us proceed.  The baronet’s son’s dead, you know.”

“But what makes you look as you do, father, when you say so?  Your face seems to contradict your words.  You know you have told us for years that he’s dead.”

“And I’m a liar, am I?” he replied, looking at him with a peculiar smile.

“No, I don’t say so; certainly not.  But, still, you squeeze your face up in such a way that you don’t seem to believe it yourself.”

“Come, come,” continued the old man, “this is all useless.  What do you intend to do?  How do you intend to proceed?”

“We sent for you to advise us in that,” replied his son.  “You are the oldest and the wisest here, and of course ought to possess the soundest judgment.”

“Well, then, my advice to you is, to go about your business; that is, to do any lawful business that you have to do, and not to bring yourselves to disgrace by puttin’ forrid this drunken profligate, who will pitch us all to the devil when he gets himself safe, and tread in his black father’s steps afterwards.”