Sure, we're always
very good friends in spite of our differences, are we not, Mrs
Suffield?"

"I can't answer that, Father O'Driscoll, until you positively promise to
come out and dine with us at the very earliest opportunity," replied
Grace. "My husband will drive in and fetch you and take you back again,
if you will only fix the day. If you don't, why, then I sha'n't believe
you mean what you say."

"Our _friends_ do come and see us, Father O'Driscoll," added Mona with
meaning; and her eyes again were eloquent, for they said, "_You_ at
least were his friend. _You_ at least lifted up one voice on his
behalf, and that with no uncertain sound, when all tongues clamoured
against him. I want to say more about it, and--perhaps about _him_" And
it is probable that their meaning was read aright, for the required
promise was readily given, and as, having bidden the ladies good-bye,
Father O'Driscoll took his way down the street, he shook his head sadly
to himself as he thought over what had happened; for the heart of this
sweet-natured old man was very full of the pain and trouble and
separation which had come upon these two.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Beyond the successful working out of it, Lambert had not taken much by
his vindictive scheme. In fact, he had taken rather less than nothing;
for if he expected to find the road now clear, or at any rate rapidly
becoming so, into Mona's good graces, why, then he never made a greater
mistake in his life. She would hardly speak to him, and then only to
snub him pitilessly, and with a cold and haughty politeness which left
him no road open for a colourably dignified retreat. His revenge must
be its own reward. Well, at all events, he had that.

So had Sonnenberg, but he, at any rate, fell into evil case. For he was
a good bit of a Lothario of a kind, was this vindictive and plotting
child of Israel, and somehow it happened that during the height of his
exultation over the utter discomfiture of his enemy, a great and mighty
fall awaited himself; for in the very thick of an intrigue whose central
figure was a native damsel, "black but comely," he was surprised by a
party of Kaffirs, and most soundly and unmercifully thrashed. Now
prominent among the thrashers was the thrashee's former store-boy, Tom;
wherefore the rumour failed not to creep around, that Roden Musgrave had
bequeathed a debt of vengeance and a largess to th