'Yes, sir,' said I more faintly than before, for already some horrible doubt was creeping on my mind.
'And have you now, sir,' continued he, in a voice elevated to a higher pitch—'have you now, sir, when a prospect of a richer alliance presents itself, dishonoured yourself and my name, by deserting the girl whose affections you have so gained?'
'No, sir! that is untrue.'
'Stop, young man! I have one at hand this moment who may compel you to retract your words as shamefully as you have boldly said them. Do you know this gentleman?'
'Father Loft us!' said I, starting back with astonishment, as the good priest unfolded a huge comforter from his throat, and stood forth.
'Yes, indeed! no other,' said he, in a voice of great sadness; 'and sorry I am to see you this way.'
'You, surely, my dear friend,' said I—'you cannot believe thus harshly of me?'
'If it wasn't for your handwriting, I'd not have believed the Pope of Rome,' was his reply, as he wiped his eyes. 'But there it is.'
So saying, he handed to me, with trembling fingers, a letter, bearing the Paris postmark.
I tore it open, and found it was written in my own name, and addressed to Father Loftus, informing him of my deep regret that, having discovered the unhappy circumstance of her mother's conduct, I was obliged to relinquish all thoughts of an alliance with Miss Bellow's family, whose connection with my own had been so productive of heavy misfortune. This also contained an open note, to be handed by the priest to Miss Bellew, in which I was made formally to renounce her hand, for reasons in the possession of Father Loftus.