Sir,—The melancholy catastrophe of yesterday evening might excuse me in your eyes from any attention to the claims of mere business. But the discovery of certain documents lately in the possession of my father demand at my hands the most prompt and complete reparation. I now know, sir, that we were unjustly possessed of an estate and property that were yours. I also know that severe wrongs have been inflicted upon you through the instrumentality of my family. I have only to make the best amende in my power, by immediately restoring the one, and asking forgiveness for the other. If you can and will accord me the pardon I seek, I shall, as soon as the sad duties which devolve upon me here are completed, leave this country for the Continent, never to return. I have already given directions to my legal adviser to confer with Mr Bicknell; and no step will be omitted to secure a safe and speedy restoration of your house and estate to its rightful owner. In deep humiliation, I remain
Your obedient servant,
H. O'Reilly.
“Poor fellow!” said Darcy, throwing down the letter before Daly; “he seems to have been no party to the fraud, and yet all the penalty falls upon him.”
“Have no pity for the upstart rascal, Maurice; I 'll wager a hundred—thank Heaven, Mr. Gleeson has put me in possession of a few—that he was as deep as his father. Give me this paper, and I 'll ask honest Tom the question.”
“Not so, Bagenal; I should be sorry to think worse of any man than I must do. Let him have at least the benefit of a doubt; and as to honest Tom, set him at liberty: we no longer want him; the papers he has given are quite sufficient,—more than we are ever like to need.”
Daly had no fancy for relinquishing his hold of the game that cost him so much trouble to take; but the Knight's words were usually a law to him, and with a muttering remark of “I 'll do it because I 'll have my eye on him,” he left the room to liberate his captive.
“There he goes,” exclaimed Daly, as, re-entering the room, he saw a chaise rapidly drive from the door,—“there he goes, Maurice; and I own to you I have an easier conscience for having let loose Freney on the world than for liberating honest Tom Gleeson; but who have we here, with four smoking posters?—ladies too!”
A travelling-carriage drew up at the door of the little inn, and immediately three ladies descended. “That 's Maria,” cried Daly, rushing from the room, and at once returned with his sister, Lady Eleanor, and Miss Darcy.
Miss Daly had, three days before, received a letter from