ilst the good man spoke,
but no other symptom of emotion was perceptible; unless, indeed,
that his hands, as he unconsciously played with the money, were quite
tremulous.

The priest, having concluded, rose to depart, having completely
forgotten the principal object of his visit.

"Where are you going?" said Corbet, "won't you take the money with you?"

"That depends upon your reply," returned the priest; "and I entreat you
to let me have a favorable one."

"One part of what you wish I will do," he replied; "the other is out of
my power at present. I am not able to do it yet."

"I don't properly understand you," said the other; "or rather, I
don't understand you at all. Do you mean what you have just said to be
favorable or otherwise?"

"I have come to a resolution," replied Corbet, "and time will tell
whether it's in your favor or not. You must be content with this, for
more I will not say now; I cannot. There's your money, but I'll take no
bill from you. Your promise is sufficient--only say you will pay me?"

"I will pay you, if God spares me life."

"That is enough; unless, indeed "--again pausing.

"Satisfy yourself," said the priest; "I will give you either my bill or
note of hand."

"No, no; I tell you. I am satisfied. Leave everything to time."

"That may do very well, but it does not apply to eternity, Anthony. In
the meantime I thank you; for I admit you have taken me out of a very
distressing difficulty. Good-by--God bless you; and, above all things,
don't forget the words I have spoken to you."

"Now," said Corbet, after the priest had gone, "something must be done;
I can't stand this state of mind long, and if death should come on me
before I've made my peace with God--but then, the black villain!--come
or go what may, he must be punished, and Ginty's and Tom's schemes must
be broken. That vagabone, too! I can't forget the abuse he gave me in
the watch-house; however, I'll set the good act against the bad one, and
who knows but the one may wipe out the other? I suppose the promisin'
youth has seen his father, and thinks himself the welcome heir of his
title and property by this; and the father too--but wait, if I don't
dash that cup from his lips, and put one to it filled with gall, I'm not
here; and then when it's done, I'll take to religion for the remainder
of my life."

What old Corbet said was, indeed, true enough; and this brings us to the
interview between Mr. Ambrose Gray, his parent,