“I hope this youth is my son,” said his lordship, in a low suppressed voice.
“He deserves to be yours, my lord,” said Mr. Percy.
“To have a son might be the greatest of evils—to have such a son must be the greatest of blessings,” said his lordship. He was lost in thought for a moment, then exclaimed, “I must see the letter—I must see the man.”
“My lord, he is at my house.”
Lord Oldborough started from his seat—“Let me see him instantly.”
“To-morrow, my lord,” said Mr. Percy, in a calm tone, for it was necessary to calm his impetuosity—“to-morrow. Mr. Henry could not be brought here to-night without alarming him, or without betraying to him the cause of our anxiety.”
“To-morrow, let it be—you are right, my dear friend. Let me see him without his suspecting that I am any thing to him, or he to me—you will let me have the letter to-night.”
“Certainly, my lord.”
Mr. Percy sympathized with his impatience, and gratified it with all the celerity of a friend: the letter was sent that night to Lord Oldborough. In questioning his sons more particularly concerning Mr. Henry, Mr. Percy learnt from Erasmus a fresh and strong corroborating circumstance. Dr. Percy had been lately attending Mr. Gresham’s porter, O’Brien, the Irishman; who had been so ill, that, imagining himself dying, he had sent for a priest. Mr. Henry was standing by the poor fellow’s bedside when the priest arrived, who was so much struck by the sight of him, that for some time his attention could scarcely be fixed on the sick man. The priest, after he had performed his official duties, returned to Mr. Henry, begged pardon for having looked at him with so much earnestness, but said that Mr. Henry strongly reminded him of the features of an Italian lady who had committed a child to his care many years ago. This led to farther explanation, and upon comparing dates and circumstances, Mr. Henry was convinced that this was the very priest who had carried him over to Ireland—the priest recognized him to be the child of whom he had taken charge; but farther, all was darkness. The priest knew nothing more—not even the name of the lady from whom he had received the child. He knew only that he had been handsomely rewarded by the Dublin merchant, to whom he had delivered the boy—and he had heard that this merchant had since become bankrupt, and had fled to America. This promise of a discovery, and sudden stop to his hopes, had only mortified poor Mr. Henry, and had irritated that curiosity which he had endeavoured to lull to repose.
Mr. Percy was careful, both for Mr. Henry’s sake and for Lord Oldborough’s, not to excite hopes which might not ultimately be accomplished. He took precautions to prevent him from suspecting any thing extraordinary in the intended introduction to Lord Oldborough.