“Well,” replied the lady, “be it so; it is as much as either of us can do under the circumstances.”

Ay, and more than we ought to do.  I never was without a conscience; but of all the poor pitiful scoundrels of a conscience that ever existed, it was the greatest.  But why should I blame it?  It loved me too well; for, after some gentle rebukes when I was about to do a rascally act, it quietly withdrew all opposition and left me to my own will.”

“Ah, we all know you too well, my lord, to take your own report of your own character.  However, I am glad that matters have proceeded so far.  I shall do what your lordship wishes as to the opinions of the medical men.  The lawyers, with our assistance, will manage the settlements.”

“Yes; but this arrangement must be kept a secret from Tom, because if she knew of it she would knock up the whole project.”

“She shall not from me, my lord.”

“Nor from me, I promise you that.  But now for another topic.  I am glad your son had nothing to do with the dreadful chase of that unfortunate Shawn-na-Middogue; he pledged his honor to Tom that he would rather protect than injure him.”

“So, my lord, he would, ever since his conversation with Miss Riddle on the subject.”

This, indeed, was very honestly said, inasmuch as it was she herself who had furnished him with the mask and other of the disguises.

“Well, I think so; and I believe him to be a gentleman, certainly.  This unfortunate tory saved Tom’s life and mine the other night; but, independently of that, Mrs. Lindsay, no son of yours should have anything to do in his pursuit or capture.  You understand me.  It is my intention to try what I can do to get him a pardon from government, and rescue him from the wild and lawless life he is leading.”

Mrs. Lindsay merely said,—­“If my son Woodward could render you any assistance, I am sure he would feel great pleasure in doing so, notwithstanding that it was this same Shawn-na-Middogue who, perhaps, has murdered his brother, for he is by no means out of danger.”

“What—­he?  Shawn-na-Middogue!  Have you any proof of that?”

“Not positive or legal proof, my lord, but! at least a strong moral certainty.  However, it is a subject on which I do not wish to speak.”

“By the way, I am very stupid; but no wonder.  When a man approaches seventy he can’t be expected to remember everything.  You will excuse me for not inquiring after your son’s health; how is he?”

“Indeed, my lord, we know not what to say; neither does the doctor who attends him—­the same, by the way, who attended Miss Goodwin.  At present he can say neither yes or no to his recovery.”

“No, nor will not as long as he can; I know those gentry well.  Curse the thing on earth frightens one of them so much as any appearance of convalescence in a patient.  I had during my life about half a dozen fits of illness, and whenever they found that I was on the recovery, they always contrived to throw me back with their damned nostrums, for a month or six weeks together, that they might squeeze all they could out of me.  O, devilish rogues! devilish rogues!”