The baronet, in spite of his hauteur and contemptuous sarcasm, began to feel uneasy; for, to speak truth, there was in the stranger's words and manner, an earnestness of purpose, joined to a cool and manly spirit, that could not be treated lightly, or with indifference.
“Sir Thomas Gourlay,” proceeded the stranger—
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said the other, interrupting him; “plain Thomas Gourlay, if you please. Is not that your object?”
“Truth, sir, is our object, and justice, and the restoration of the defrauded orphan's rights. These, sir, are our objects; and these we shall endeavor to establish. Sir Thomas Gourlay, you know that the son of your brother lives.”
“Indeed!”
“Yes, sir; disguise it—conceal it as you will. You know that the son of your brother lives. I repeat that emphatically.”
“So I perceive. You are evidently a very emphatic gentleman.”
“If truth, sir, constitute emphasis, you shall find me so.”
“I attend to you, sir; and I give you notice, that when you shall have exhausted yourself, I have my explanation to demand; and, I promise you, a terrible one you shall find it.”
This the wily baronet said, in order, if possible, to confound the stranger, and throw him out of the directness of his purpose. In this, however, he found himself mistaken. The other proceeded: