“Not a sixpence! By the God of heaven, not a sixpence! My name not even mentioned, except for a paltry mourning ring! And yours—pray, sir, what have you been about, after having such a sum left you, to forfeit your grandfather’s good opinion? Heh! sir—tell me directly!” continued he, turning round to me in a rage.
“Nothing, my dear father, that I am aware of. My uncle is evidently my enemy.”
“And why should he be particularly your enemy? Peter, there must be some reason for his having induced your grandfather to alter his bequest in your favour. I insist upon it, sir, that you tell me immediately.”
“My dear father, when you are more calm, I will talk this matter over with you. I hope I shall not be considered wanting in respect, when I say, that, as a clergyman of the Church of England—”
“Damn the Church of England, and those who put me into it!” replied my father, maddened with rage.
I was shocked and held my tongue. My father appeared also to be confused at his hasty expressions. He sank back in his carriage, and preserved a gloomy silence until we arrived at our own door. As soon as we entered, my father hastened to his own room, and I went up to my sister Ellen, who was in her bed-room. I revealed to her all that had passed, and advised with her on the propriety of my communicating to my father the reasons which had occasioned my uncle’s extreme aversion towards me. After much argument, she agreed with me, that the disclosure had now become necessary.
After the dinner-cloth had been removed, my sister left the room, and went upstairs, and I then communicated to my father the circumstances which had come to our knowledge relative to my uncle’s establishment in Ireland. He heard me very attentively, took out tablets, and made notes.
“Well, Peter,” said he, after a few minutes’ silence, when I had finished, “I see clearly through this whole business. I have no doubt but that a child has been substituted to defraud you and me of our just inheritance of the title and estates; but I will now set to work and try if I cannot find out the secret; and, with the help of Captain O’Brien and Father McGrath, I think it is not at all impossible.”
“O’Brien will do all that he can, sir,” replied I; “and I expect soon to hear from him. He must have now been a week in Ireland.”
“I shall go there myself,” replied my father: “and there are no means that I will not resort to, to discover this infamous plot. No,” exclaimed he, striking his fist on the table, so as to shiver two of the wine-glasses into fragments—“no means but I will resort to.”