the way I'll have my revenge; and maybe
it'll be a greater one than you think. That's all."

This was accompanied by a sneer and a chuckle, which the ambiguous old
sinner could not for the blood of him suppress. "And now," he added, "I
must be off."

"Sir," said Father M'Mahon, rising up and traversing the room with
considerable heat, "you have been tampering with the confidence I was
disposed to place in you. Whatever dark game you are playing, or have
been playing, I know not; but this I can assure you, that Lady Gourlay's
friends know more of your secrets than you suspect. I believe you to
be nothing more nor less than a hardened old villain, whose heart is
sordid, and base, and cruel--corrupted, I fear, beyond all hope of
redemption. You have been playing with me, sir--sneering at me in your
sleeve, during this whole dialogue. This was a false move, however, on
your part, and you will find it so. I am not a man to be either played
with or sneered at by such a snake-like and diabolical old scoundrel as
you are. Listen, now, to me. You think your secret is safe; you think
you are beyond the reach of the law; you think we know nothing of your
former movements under the guidance and in personal company with the
Black Baronet. Pray, did you think it impossible that there was
above you a God of justice, and of vengeance, too, whose providential
disclosures are sufficient to bring your villany to light? Anthony
Corbet, be warned in time. Let your disclosures be voluntary, and they
will be received with gratitude, with deep thanks, with ample rewards;
refuse to make them, endeavor still further to veil the crimes to which
I allude, and sustain this flagitious compact, and we shall drag them up
your throat, and after forcing you to disgorge them, we shall send you,
in your wicked and impenitent old age, where the clank of the felon's
chain will be the only music in your ears, and that chain itself the
only garter that will ever keep up your Connemaras. Now begone, and lay
to heart what I've said to you. It wasn't my intention to have let you
go without a bit of something to eat, and a glass of something to wash
it down afterwards; but you may travel now; nothing stronger than pure
air will cross your lips in this house, unless at your own cost."

The old fellow seemed to hesitate, as if struck by some observation
contained in the priest's lecture.

"When do you lave town, sir?" he asked.

"Whenever it's my convanience,