‘Take your seat, sir,’ said the father; ‘you have been an invalid.’
He spoke with the tone of one who desires an inferior to be seated in his presence, and his voice was full and melodious.
Fairford, somewhat surprised to find himself overawed by the airs of superiority, which could be only properly exercised towards one over whom religion gave the speaker influence, sat down at his bidding, as if moved by springs, and was at a loss how to assert the footing of equality on which he felt that they ought to stand. The stranger kept the advantage which he had obtained.
‘Your name, sir, I am informed, is Fairford?’ said the father.
Alan answered by a bow.
‘Called to the Scottish bar,’ continued his visitor, ‘There is, I believe, in the West, a family of birth and rank called Fairford of Fairford.’
Alan thought this a strange observation from a foreign ecclesiastic, as his name intimated Father Buonaventure to be; but only answered he believed there was such, a family.
‘Do you count kindred with them, Mr. Fairford?’ continued the inquirer.
‘I have not the honour to lay such a claim,’ said Fairford.
‘My father’s industry has raised his family from a low and obscure situation—I have no hereditary claim to distinction of any kind. May I ask the cause of these inquiries?’