ly to old Caleb, whose resentment
against the usurper of the Castle of Ravenswood began to be softened by
his familiarity, and partly to his daughter.

After perusing these papers, the Master of Ravenswood remained for
a minute or two with his hand pressed against his brow, in deep and
profound meditation. He then again ran his eye hastily over the papers,
as if desirous of discovering in them some deep purpose, or some mark
of fabrication, which had escaped him at first perusal. Apparently the
second reading confirmed the opinion which had pressed upon him at the
first, for he started from the stone bench on which he was sitting,
and, going to the Lord Keeper, took his hand, and, strongly pressing it,
asked his pardon repeatedly for the injustice he had done him, when it
appeared he was experiencing, at his hands, the benefit of protection to
his person and vindication to his character.

The statesman received these acknowledgments at first with well-feigned
surprise, and then with an affectation of frank cordiality. The tears
began already to start from Lucy's blue eyes at viewing this unexpected
and moving scene. To see the Master, late so haughty and reserved, and
whom she had always supposed the injured person, supplicating her
father for forgiveness, was a change at once surprising, flattering, and
affecting.

"Dry your eyes, Lucy," said her father; "why should you weep, because
your father, though a lawyer, is discovered to be a fair and honourable
man? What have you to thank me for, my dear Master," he continued,
addressing Ravenswood, "that you would not have done in my case? 'Suum
cuique tribuito,' was the Roman justice, and I learned it when I studied
Justinian. Besides, have you not overpaid me a thousand times, in saving
the life of this dear child?"

"Yes," answered the Master, in all the remorse of self-accusation; "but
the little service _I_ did was an act of mere brutal instinct; YOUR
defence of my cause, when you knew how ill I thought of you, and how
much I was disposed to be your enemy, was an act of generous, manly, and
considerate wisdom."

"Pshaw!" said the Lord Keeper, "each of us acted in his own way; you as
a gallant soldier, I as an upright judge and privy-councillor. We could
not, perhaps, have changed parts; at least I should have made a very
sorry tauridor, and you, my good Master, though your cause is so
excellent, might have pleaded it perhaps worse yourself than I who acted
for you