“My mother’s name, sir, was Wilson.”

“Very good; what was her Christian name?”

“Catherine, sir.”

“And you must say that I know nothing whatsoever of the imposture you were guilty of.  I shall make it worth your while; and if you don’t get well through with it, and enable me to bamboozle the old fellow, I have done with you.  I shall send for you by and by.”

He then rejoined the squire, who was walking impatiently about the room.

“Mr. Folliard,” said he, “I have to apologize to you for this seeming neglect; I had most important business to transact, and I merely went downstairs to tell the gentleman that I could not possibly attend to it now, and to request him to come in a couple of hours hence; pray excuse me, for no business could be so important as that in which I am now engaged with you.’”

“Yes, but in the name of an outraged father, I demand again to know whether you will give me satisfaction or not?”

“I have already answered you, my dear sir, and if you will reflect upon the reasons I have given you, I am certain you will admit that I have the laws both of God and man on my side, and I feel it my duty to regulate my conduct by both.  As to the charge you bring against me, about the girl Herbert, I am both ignorant and innocent of it.”

“Why, sir, how can you say so? how have you the face to say so?—­did you not give her a letter of recommendation to me, pledging yourself for her moral character and fidelity?”

“I grant it, but still I pledge you my honor that I looked upon her as an extremely proper person to be about your daughter; you know, sir, that you as well as I have had—­and have still—­apprehensions as to Reilly’s conduct and influence over her; and I did fear, and so did you, that the maid who then attended her, and to whom I was told she was attached with such unusual affection, might have availed herself of her position, and either attempted to seduce her from her faith, or connive at private meetings with Reilly.”

“Sir Robert, I know your plausibility—­and, upon my soul, I pay it a high compliment when I say it is equal to your cowardice.”

“Mr. Folliard, I can bear all this with patience, especially from you—­What’s this?” he exclaimed, addressing the footman, who rushed into the room in a state of considerable excitement.

“Why, Sir Robert, there is a young woman below, who is crying and lamenting, and saying she must see Mr. Folliard.”

“Damnation, sir,” exclaimed Sir Robert, “what is this? why am I interrupted in such a manner?  I cannot have a gentleman ten minutes in my study, engaged upon private and important business, but in bolts some of you, to interrupt and disturb us.  What does the girl want with me?”

“It is not you she wants, sir,” replied the footman, “but his honor, Mr. Folliard.”

“Well, tell her to wait until he is disengaged.”