He has all my points; knows the world, and despises it as much as I do.  He did not know Lucy, however, or he would have kept his worldly opinions to himself.  It is true he said very little but what we see about us as the regulating principles of life every day; but Lucy, on the other hand, is no every-day girl, and will not receive such doctrines, and I am glad of it They may do very well in a son; but somehow one shudders at the contemplation of their existence in the heart and principles of a daughter.  Unfortunately, however I am in the power of these Corbets, and I feel that exposure at this period, the crisis of my daughter’s marriage, would not only frustrate my ambition for her, but occasion my very death, I fear.  I know not how it is, but I think if I were to live my life over again, I would try a different course.”

CHAPTER XXXVIII.  An Unpleasant Disclosure to Dunroe

—­Anthony Corbet gives Important Documents to the Stranger—­Norton catches a Tartar.

The next morning the stranger was agreeably surprised by seeing the round, rosy, and benevolent features of Father M’Mahon, as he presented himself at his breakfast table.  Their meeting was cordial and friendly, with the exception of a slight appearance of embarrassment that was evident in the manner of the priest.

“The last time you were in town,” said the former, “I was sorry to observe thai you seemed rather careworn and depressed; but I think you look better now, and a good deal more cheerful.”

“And I think I have a good right,” replied the priest; “and I think no man ought to know the, cause of it better than yourself.  I charge it, sir, with an act of benevolence to the poor of my parish, through their humble pastor; for which you stand.—­I beg your pardon—­sit there, a guilty man.”

“How is that?” asked the other, smiling.

“By means of an anonymous letter that contained a hundred pound note, sir.”

“Well,” said the stranger, “there is no use in telling a falsehood about it.  The truth is, I was aware of the extent to which you involved yourself, in order to relieve many of the small farmers and other struggling persons of good repute in your parish, and I thought it too bad that you should suffer distress yourself, who had so frequently relieved it in others.”

“God bless you, my friend,” replied the priest; “for I will call you so.  I wish every man possessed of wealth was guided by your principles.  Freney the Robber has a new saddle and bridle, anyhow; and I came up to town to pay old Anthony Corbet a sum I borrowed from him the last time I was here?”

“Oh, have you seen that cautious and disagreeable old man?  We could make nothing of him, although I feel quite certain that he knows everything connected with the disappearance of Lady Gourlay’s son.”

“I have no doubt of it myself,” replied the priest; “and I now find, that what neither religion, nor justice, nor humanity could influence him to do, superstition is likely to effect.  He has had a drame, he says, in which his son James that was in Lady Gourlay’s service has appeared to him, and threatens that unless he renders her justice, he has but a poor chance in the other world.”