‘Nothing can be settled,’ repeated he, ’till Colambre is of age; so it does not signify talking of it.’

‘Why so, sir?’ said Lord Colambre.  ’Though my act, in law, may not be valid, till I am of age, my promise, as a man of honour, is binding now; and, I trust, would be as satisfactory to my father as any legal deed whatever.’

‘Undoubtedly, my dear boy; but—­’

‘But what?’ said Lord Colambre, following his father’s eye, which turned to Sir Terence O’Fay, as if asking his permission to explain.

’As my father’s friend, sir, you ought, permit me to say, at this moment to use your influence to prevail upon him to throw aside all reserve with a son, whose warmest wish is to serve him, and to see him at ease and happy.’

‘Generous, dear boy,’ cried Lord Clonbrony.  ’Terence, I can’t stand it; but how shall I bring myself to name the amount of the debts?’

‘At some time or other, I must know it,’ said Lord Colambre; ’I cannot be better prepared at any moment than the present; never more disposed to give my assistance to relieve all difficulties.  Blindfold, I cannot be led to any purpose, sir,’ said he, looking at Sir Terence; ’the attempt would be degrading and futile.  Blindfolded I will not be—­but, with my eyes open, I will see, and go straight and prompt as heart can go, to my father’s interest, without a look or thought to my own.’

’By St. Patrick! the spirit of a prince, and an Irish prince, spoke there,’ cried Sir Terence; ’and if I’d fifty hearts, you’d have all in your hand this minute, at your service, and warm.  Blindfold you! after that, the man that would attempt it DESARVES to be shot; and I’d have no sincerer pleasure in life than shooting him this moment, was he my best friend.  But it’s not Clonbrony, or your father, my lord, would act that way, no more than Sir Terence O’Fay—­there’s the schedule of the debts,’ drawing a paper from his bosom; ’and I’ll swear to the lot, and not a man on earth could do that but myself.’

Lord Colambre opened the paper.  His father turned aside, covering his face with both his hands.

‘Tut, man,’ said Sir Terence; ’I know him now better than you; he will stand, you’ll find, the shock of that regiment of figures—­he is steel to the backbone, and proof spirit.’

‘I thank you, my dear father,’ said Lord Colambre, ’for trusting me thus at once with a view of the truth.  At first sight it is, I acknowledge, worse than I expected; but I make no doubt that, when you allow me to examine Mr. Garraghty’s accounts and Mr. Mordicai’s claims, we shall be able to reduce this alarming total considerably, my dear father.  You think we learn nothing but Latin and Greek at Cambridge; but you are mistaken.’

‘The devil a pound, nor a penny,’ said Sir Terence; ’for you have to deal with a Jew and old Nick; and I’m not a match for them.  I don’t know who is; and I have no hope of getting any abatement.  I’ve looked over the accounts till I’m sick.’