“Heigho,” thought Solomon, “here am I punished, as it were, in my own exact phraseology; verily, the measure is returning unto me.”

“Well, Mrs. Lenehan, this is part of my individual dispensation—­may it be precious to me!  There is a mystery in many things, and there is a mystery in this; a mystery which, I trust, shall yet be cleared up, even so as that I shall indulge in much rejoicing when I look back upon it.  Mr. Palmer, you, I trust, are a Christian man, and you, Mrs. Lenehan, a Christian woman—­Now, let me ask, did you ever hear that it is possible for an innocent man to be condemned as though he were guilty?  Oh!  I could argue strongly on this—­but that I know now is not the hour.”

“Well, but to business, Mr. M’Slime; my sister wants the money into her own hands.”

“And in her own hands it shall be placed, Mr. Palmer; but this, you are aware, cannot be done for a few days—­until, at all events, I go to Dublin.”

“When will that be?” asked Palmer.  “About this day week (D.V.).  Term commences on to-morrow week, but I am generally in town a day or two before.

“Very well, then, on this day week we shall be in town, too, and will call at your office about ten o’clock.

“The exact hour, my dear friend—­and pray be punctual—­and my friend Palmer—­my dear friend, will you confer a great, an important favor on me? and you, Mrs. Lenehan, for you can?”

“What is it?” said Palmer.  “When at family worship think of me.  If I am what the world begins to say I am, oh! do not I require, and stand in need of your prayers, and most earnest supplications—­yea, Mrs. Lenehan, even that you should wrestle for me—­that I may be restored to the fold:—­and if I am innocent—­if—­if—­oh! why do I say if?” said he, turning up his eyes, and clasping his hands, whilst the tears of hypocrisy actually trickled down his cheeks, “but it is known—­that precious word innocence is known?  Peace be with you both!”

Darby, on his arrival, found him engaged in writing at his desk, and on casting his eye slightly at the paper he perceived that he was drawing out a bill of costs.

“Darby, my friend,” said Solomon, after the first salutations were over, “when will you enter upon the duties of your new office.”

“Plaise God, as soon as Mr. M’Darby leaves it—­which will be in a few days, I hope; and how are you, Mr. M’Slime?”

“Tried in the furnace of affliction, nine times heated, Darby.”

“It’s a sad thing to be accused unjustly, Mr. M’Slime,” said Darby looking him shrewdly in the face with one eye shut; “but then it’s well that this—­this—­visitation has come upon a man that has thrue religion to support him, as you have, under it.”

“Darby, my friend, there are none of us perfect—­we all have our frailties—­our precious little—­ay! yes;—­you know, Darby, the just man falleth seven times a day.”

Darby started, and despite of all the influence of his new creed exclaimed—­“Blessed Saints, seven times!  Arra when was this, Mr. M’Slime?  Troth, I think, it must be in the owld pagan times long ago, when the people were different from what they are now.”