Mr. Marshal assured him that he did not regret the time which he had spent in endeavouring to clear up all those mysteries and suspicions; and Mr. Hill gladly accepted his invitation to meet O’Neill at his house the next day.  No sooner had Mr. Marshal brought one of the parties to reason and good humour than he went to prepare the other for a reconciliation.  O’Neill and his mother were both people of warm but forgiving tempers—­the arrest was fresh in their minds; but when Mr. Marshal represented to them the whole affair, and the verger’s prejudices, in a humorous light, they joined in the good-natured laugh; and O’Neill declared that, for his part, he was ready to forgive and to forget everything if he could but see Miss Phoebe in the Limerick gloves.

Phoebe appeared the next day, at Mr. Marshal’s, in the Limerick gloves; and no perfume ever was so delightful to her lover as the smell of the rose-leaves in which they had been kept.

Mr. Marshal had the benevolent pleasure of reconciling the two families.  The tanner and the glover of Hereford became, from bitter enemies, useful friends to each other; and they were convinced by experience that nothing could be more for their mutual advantage than to live in union.

MADAME DE FLEURY

CHAPTER I

   “There oft are heard the notes of infant woe,
   The short thick sob, loud scream, and shriller squall—­
   How can you, mothers, vex your infants so?”—­Pope

“D’abord, madame, c’est impossible!—­Madame ne descendra pas ici?” said Francois, the footman of Madame de Fleury, with a half expostulatory, half indignant look, as he let down the step of her carriage at the entrance of a dirty passage, that led to one of the most miserable-looking houses in Paris.

“But what can be the cause of the cries which I hear in this house?” said Madame de Fleury.

“’Tis only some child who is crying,” replied Francois; and he would have put up the step, but his lady was not satisfied.

“’Tis nothing in the world,” continued he, with a look of appeal to the coachman, “it can be nothing, but some children who are locked up there above.  The mother, the workwoman my lady wants, is not at home:  that’s certain.”

“I must know the cause of these cries; I must see these children” said Madame de Fleury, getting out of her carriage.

Francois held his arm for his lady as she got out.

“Bon!” cried he, with an air of vexation.  “Si madame la vent absolument, a la bonne heure!—­Mais madame sera abimee.  Madame verra que j’ai raison.  Madame ne montera jamais ce vilain escalier.  D’ailleurs c’est au cinquieme.  Mais, madame, c’est impossible.”