ed Sir Thomas
Gourlay on learning the fact conveyed to him by Gibson. Sir Thomas,
however, after the first natural start, became, if we may use the
expression, deadly, fearfully calm. It was not poor, contemptible
Crackenfudge he had to deal with now, but the prime offender, the great
felon himself, the author of his shame, the villain who poured in the
fire of perdition upon his heart, who blasted his hopes, crumbled into
ruin all his schemes of ambition for his daughter, and turned her very
name into a byword of pollution and guilt. This was the man whom he was
now about to get into his power; the man who, besides, had on a former
occasion bearded and insulted him to his teeth;--the skulking adventurer
afraid to disclose his name--the low-born impostor, living by the
rinsings of foul and fetid teeth--the base upstart--the thief--the
man who robbed and absconded from his employer; and this wretch, this
cipher, so low in the scale of society and life, was the individual
who had left him what he then felt himself to be--a thing crushed,
disgraced, trodden in the dust--and then his daughter!----

"Gibson," said he, "show him into a room--say I will see him presently,
in about ten minutes or less; deliver this message, and return to me."

In a few moments Gibson again made his appearance.

"Gibson," continued his master, "where is Gillespie? Send him to me."

"Gillespie's gone into Ballytrain, sir, to get one of the horses fired."

"Gibson, you are a good and faithful servant. Go to my bedroom and fetch
me my pistols."

"My God, Sir Thomas! oh, sir, for heaven's sake, avoid violence! The
expression of your face, Sir Thomas, makes me tremble."

Sir Thomas spoke not, but by one look Gibson felt that he must obey
him. On returning with the arms, his master took them out of his hands,
opened the pans, shook and stirred the powder, examined the flints, saw
that they were sharp and firm, and having done so, he opened a drawer in
the table at which he usually wrote, and there placed them at full
cock. Gibson could perceive that, although unnaturally calm, he was
nevertheless in a state of great agitation; for whilst examining the
pistols, he observed that his hand trembled, although his voice was low,
condensed, and firm.

"For God's sake, Sir Thomas! for the Almighty God's sake--"

"Go, Gibson, and desire the 'gentleman' to walk up--show him the way."

Sir Thomas's mind was, no doubt, in a tumult; but, at the same time