“What misconception, sir!”

“Why, my lord—­Counsellor, this is a—­a—­kind of charge his lordship is bringing against me, under a slight misconception.  My lord, the fact is, that I didn’t see what ecclesiastical right I had to prevent Denis here from disposing of his own property to—­”

“I expect an apology from you, Mr. Finnerty, but neither a defence nor a justification.  An attempt at either will not advance the interests of your young friend, believe me.”

“Then I have only to say that the wish expressed in your lordship’s letter has been complied with.  But wait awhile, my lord,” continued the priest, good-humoredly, “I shall soon turn the tables on yourself.”

“How is that, pray?”

“Why, my lord, the horse is in your stable, and Denis declares he will not take him out of it.”

“I have not the slightest objection to that,” replied the Bishop, “upon the express condition that his son shall never enter Maynooth.”

“For my part,” observed Mr. Finnerty, “I leave the matter now between your lordship and O’Shaughnessy himself.  You may act as you please, Doctor, and so may he.”

“Mr. Finnerty, if I could suppose for a moment that the suggestion of thus influencing me originated with you, I would instantly deprive you of your parish, and make you assistant to your excellent curate, for whom I entertain a sincere regard.  I have already expressed my opinion of the transaction alluded to in my letter.  You have frequently offended me, Mr. Finnerty, by presuming too far upon my good temper, and by relying probably upon your own jocular disposition.  Take care, sir, that you don’t break down in some of your best jokes.  I fear that under the guise of humor, you frequently avail yourself of the weakness, or ignorance, or simplicity of your parishioners.  I hope, Mr. Finnerty, that while you laugh at the jest, they don’t pay for it.”

The priest here caught the Counsellor’s eye, and gave him a dry wink, not unperceived, however, by the Bishop, who could scarcely repress a smile.

“You should have known me better, Mr. Finnerty, than to suppose that any motive could influence me in deciding upon the claims of candidates for Maynooth, besides their own moral character and literary acquirements.  So long as I live, this, and this alone, shall be the rule of my conduct, touching persons in the circumstances of young O’Shaughnessy.”

“My gracious lord,” said Denis, “don’t be angry wid Mr. Finnerty.  I’ll bear it all, for it was my fau’t.  The horse is mine, and say what you will, out of your stable I’ll never bring him.  I think, wid great sibmission a man may do what he pleases wid his own.”

“Certainly,” said the Bishop; “my consent to permit your son to goto Maynooth is my own.  Now this consent I will not give if you press that mode of argument upon me.”

“My Reverend Lord, as heaven’s above me, I’d give all I’m worth to see the boy in Maynooth.  If he doesn’t go afther all our hopes, I’d break my heart.”  He was so deeply affected that the large tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke.