ng that
instead of O'Donegan, the classical teacher, old Corbet himself was
present. The man called Thomas Corbet, the eldest son Anthony, Ginty
Cooper the fortune-teller, Ambrose Gray, and Anthony himself, composed
this interesting sederunt. The others had been assembled for some time
before the arrival of Anthony, who consequently had not an opportunity
of hearing the following brief dialogue.

"I'm afraid of my father," observed Thomas; "he's as deep as a
draw-well, and it's impossible to know what he's at. How are we to
manage him at all?"

"By following his advice, I think," said Ginty. "It's time, I'm sure, to
get this boy into his rights."

"I was very well disposed to help you in that," replied her brother;
"but of late he has led such a life, that I fear if he comes into the
property, he'll do either us or himself little credit; and what is still
worse, will he have sense to keep his own secret? My father says his
brother, the legitimate son, is dead; that he died of scarlet-fever
many years ago in the country---and I think myself, by the way, that he
looks, whenever he says it, as if he himself had furnished the boy with
the fever. That, however, is not our business. If I had been at Red
Hall, instead of keeping the house and place in town, it's a short time
the other--or Fenton as he calls himself--would be at large. He's now
undher a man that will take care of him. But indeed it's an easy task.
He'll never see his mother's face again, as I well know. Scarman has
him, and I give the poor devil about three months to live. He doesn't
allow him half food, but, on the other hand, he supplies him with more
whiskey than he can drink; and this by the baronet's own written orders.
As for you, Mr. Gray, for we may as well call you so yet awhile, your
conduct of late has been disgraceful."

"I grant it," replied Mr. Gray, who was now sober; "but the truth is,
I really looked, after some consideration, upon the whole plan as quite
impracticable. As the real heir, however, is dead--"

"Not the real heir, Amby, if you please. He, poor fellow, is in custody
that he will never escape from again. Upon my soul, I often pitied him."

"How full of compassion you are!" replied his sister.

"I have very little for the baronet, however," he replied; "and I hope
he will never die till I scald the soul in his body. Excuse me, Amby.
You know all the circumstances of the family, and, of course, that you
are the child of guilt