. Unfortunately, however I am in the power of these Corbets,
and I feel that exposure at this period, the crisis of my daughter's
marriage, would not only frustrate my ambition for her, but occasion my
very death, I fear. I know not how it is, but I think if I were to live
my life over again, I would try a different course."

CHAPTER XXXVIII. An Unpleasant Disclosure to Dunroe

--Anthony Corbet gives Important Documents to the Stranger--Norton
catches a Tartar.

The next morning the stranger was agreeably surprised by seeing the
round, rosy, and benevolent features of Father M'Mahon, as he presented
himself at his breakfast table. Their meeting was cordial and friendly,
with the exception of a slight appearance of embarrassment that was
evident in the manner of the priest.

"The last time you were in town," said the former, "I was sorry to
observe thai you seemed rather careworn and depressed; but I think you
look better now, and a good deal more cheerful."

"And I think I have a good right," replied the priest; "and I think no
man ought to know the, cause of it better than yourself. I charge it,
sir, with an act of benevolence to the poor of my parish, through their
humble pastor; for which you stand.--I beg your pardon--sit there, a
guilty man."

"How is that?" asked the other, smiling.

"By means of an anonymous letter that contained a hundred pound note,
sir."

"Well," said the stranger, "there is no use in telling a falsehood
about it. The truth is, I was aware of the extent to which you involved
yourself, in order to relieve many of the small farmers and other
struggling persons of good repute in your parish, and I thought it too
bad that you should suffer distress yourself, who had so frequently
relieved it in others."

"God bless you, my friend," replied the priest; "for I will call you
so. I wish every man possessed of wealth was guided by your principles.
Freney the Robber has a new saddle and bridle, anyhow; and I came up to
town to pay old Anthony Corbet a sum I borrowed from him the last time I
was here?"

"Oh, have you seen that cautious and disagreeable old man? We could make
nothing of him, although I feel quite certain that he knows everything
connected with the disappearance of Lady Gourlay's son."

"I have no doubt of it myself," replied the priest; "and I now find,
that what neither religion, nor justice, nor humanity could influence
him to do, superstition is likely to effect