“I feel my mind at ease,” said the amiable old nobleman, “in aiding such an admirable country gentleman as this Crackenfudge must be, to a seat on the bench; for, after all, Dunroe, it is only by the contemplation of a good action that we can be happy.  You may go.”

Some few days passed, when Dunroe, having read the papers, the contents of which he did not wish Norton to see, returned them to his father in sullen silence, and then rang his bell, and sent for his worthy associate, that he might avail himself of his better judgment.

“Norton,” said he, “it is all up with us.”

“How is that, my lord?”

“Those papers, that M’Bride says he lost, are in the hands of our enemies.”

“Don’t believe it, my lord.’  I saw the fellow yesterday, and he told me that he destroyed them in a drunken fit, for which he says he is ready to cut his throat.”

“But I have read the opinion of my father’s counsel,” replied his lordship, “and they say we have no defence.  Now you know what a lawyer is:  if there were but a hair-breadth chance, they would never make an admission that might keep a good fat case from getting into their hands.  No; it is all up with us.  The confounded old fool above had everything laid before them, and such is the upshot.  What is to be done?”

“Marriage, without loss of time—­marriage, before your disaster reaches the ears of the Black Baronet.”

“Yes, but there is a difficulty.  If the venerable old nobleman should hear of it, he’d let the cat out of the bag, and leave me in the lurch, in addition to the penalty of a three hours’ lecture upon honor.  Everything, however, is admirably arranged quoad the marriage.  We have got a special license for the purpose of meeting our peculiar case, so that the marriage can be private; that is to say, can take place in the lady’s own house.  Do you think though, that M’Bride has actually destroyed the papers?”

“The drunken ruffian! certainly.  He gave me great insolence a couple of days ago.”

“Why so?”

“Because I didn’t hand him over a hundred pounds for his journey and the theft of the registry.”

“And how much did you give him, pray?”

“A fifty pound note, after having paid his expenses, which was quite enough for him.  However, as I did not wish to make the scoundrel our enemy, I have promised him something more, so that I’ve come on good terms with him again.  He is a slippery customer.”

“Did you get the bills cashed yet?”

“No, my lord; I am going about it now; but I tell you beforehand, that I will have some difficulty in doing it.  I hope to manage it, however; and for that reason I must bid you good-by.”

“The first thing to do, then, is to settle that ugly business about the mare.  By no means must we let it come to trial.”

“Very well, my lord, be it so.”

Norton, after leaving his dupe to meditate upon the circumstances in which he found himself, began to reflect as he went along, that he himself was necessarily involved in the ruin of his friend and patron.