Trifles hurry on great events,—and a recommendation from Mr. Costigan, that I should be sent direct to Newgate, roused my latent pride, and re-established courage, that was oozing fast from my finger-ends.
“Peace, John!” returned the quaker; “Thy name, friend?”
“Is one, Sir, not unknown to you!”
“Indeed!” said the old man, with some surprise.
“I am called Hector O’Halloran!”
“Protect us!” exclaimed Mr. Pryme, with hands and eyes upturned; “Wert thou then the companion of my erring boy, and partook in last night’s godless revelry?”
“He was not my companion,” I answered boldly; “but I his tempter. I led him to commit the folly that he did—and the blame of all should rest with me.”
The quaker gave me a benignant look, took my hand, and pressed it warmly—and next moment my pardon was pronounced.
“Hector O’Halloran,” he said, “thy candour redeems thy crime. He who so freely owns a fault will probably henceforward eschew the ways of foolishness. Sleep; the morning yet is young. I am thankful that the son of my ancient friend was fortunately brought to a home where he was placed in safety. Thou shalt be called ere breakfast-hour arrives.”
Once more the shutters were closed. The quaker departed, and I was left to marvel at the luck by which I had undeservedly escaped the pains and penalties of this my first delinquency.