"His name is George Montague," returned Mr. Armstrong.
"George Montague!" cried Richard.
"Do you know him? have you heard of him before? If you happen to be aware of his present abode—"
"You would send and have him arrested for the robbery of the money in your desk?"
"No—write and assure him of my forgiveness once more," replied the noble-hearted republican. "But how came you acquainted with his name?"
"I have heard of that young man before, but not in a way to do him honour. A tale of robbery and seduction—of heartless cruelty and vile deceit—has been communicated to me relative to this George Montague. Can you forgive such a wretch as he is?'
"From the bottom of my heart," answered the republican.
Markham gazed upon that venerable gentleman with profound respect. He remembered to have seen the daily Tory newspapers denounce that same old man as "an unprincipled agitator—the enemy of his country—the foe to morality—a political ruffian—a bloody-minded votary of Robespierre and Danton:"—and he now heard the sweetest and holiest sentiment of Christian morality emanate from the lips of him who had thus been fearfully represented. And that sentiment was uttered without affectation, but with unequivocal sincerity!
For a moment Richard forgot his own sorrows and misfortunes, as he contemplated the benign and holy countenance of him whom a certain class loved to depict as a demon incarnate!
The old man did not notice the interest which he had thus excited, for he had himself fallen into a profound reverie.