“Now,” said Corbet, after the priest had gone, “something must be done; I can’t stand this state of mind long, and if death should come on me before I’ve made my peace with God—­but then, the black villain!—­come or go what may, he must be punished, and Ginty’s and Tom’s schemes must be broken.  That vagabone, too!  I can’t forget the abuse he gave me in the watch-house; however, I’ll set the good act against the bad one, and who knows but the one may wipe out the other?  I suppose the promisin’ youth has seen his father, and thinks himself the welcome heir of his title and property by this; and the father too—­but wait, if I don’t dash that cup from his lips, and put one to it filled with gall, I’m not here; and then when it’s done, I’ll take to religion for the remainder of my life.”

What old Corbet said was, indeed, true enough; and this brings us to the interview between Mr. Ambrose Gray, his parent, and his sister.

There is nothing which so truly and often so severely tests the state of man’s heart, or so painfully disturbs the whole frame of his moral being as the occurrence of some important event that is fraught with happiness.  Such an event resembles the presence of a good man among a set of profligates, causing them to feel the superiority of virtue over vice, and imposing a disagreeable restraint, not only upon their actions, but their very thoughts.  When the baronet, for instance, went from his bedroom to the library, he experienced the full force of this observation.  A disagreeable tumult prevailed within him.  It is true, he felt, as every parent must feel, to a greater or less extent delighted at the contemplation of his son’s restoration to him.  But, at the same time, the tenor of his past life rose up in painful array before him, and occasioned reflections that disturbed him deeply.  Should this young man prove, on examination, to resemble his sister in her views of moral life in general—­should he find him as delicately virtuous, and animated by the same pure sense of honor, he felt that his recovery would disturb the future habits of his life, and take away much of the gratification which he expected from his society.  These considerations, we say, rendered him so anxious and uneasy, that he actually wished to find him something not very far removed from a profligate.  He hoped that he might be inspired with his own views of society and men, and that he would now have some one to countenance him in all his selfish designs and projects.

CHAPTER XXXIV.  Young Gourlay’s Affectionate Interview with His Father

—­Risk of Strangulation—­Movements of M’Bride.

It is not necessary here to suggest to the reader that Tom Corbet, who knew the baronet’s secrets and habits of life so thoroughly, had prepared Mr. Ambrose Gray, by frequent rehearsals, for the more adroit performance of the task that was before him.

At length a knock, modest but yet indicative of something like authority, was heard at the hall-door, and the baronet immediately descended to the dining-room, where he knew he could see his son with less risk of interruption.  He had already intimated to Lucy that she should not make her appearance until summoned for that purpose.