“My excellent friend,” said he, “I am heartily glad to see you. But how is this? you look as if something was wrong, and you have been travelling. Come upstairs; and if you have any lengthened stay to make in town, consider yourself my guest. Nay, as it is, you must stop with me. Here, Dandy—here, you Dulcimer, bring in this gentleman's luggage, and attend him punctually.”
Dandy, who had been coming from the kitchen at the time, was about to comply with his orders, when he was prevented by the priest.
“Stop, Dandy, you thief. My luggage, sir! In truth, the only luggage I have is this bundle under my arm. As to my time in town, sir, I hope it won't be long; but, long or short, I must stop at my ould place, the Brazen Head, for not an hour's comfort I could have in any other place, many thanks to you. I'm now on my way to it; but I thought I'd give you a call when passing.”
They then proceeded upstairs to the stranger's room, where breakfast was soon provided for the priest, who expressed an anxiety to know how the stranger's affairs proceeded, and whether any satisfactory trace of poor Fenton had been obtained.
“Nothing satisfactory has turned up in either case,” replied the stranger. “No additional clew to the poor young fellow has been got, and still my own affairs are far from being complete. The loss of important documents obtained by myself in France will render it necessary for Birney to proceed to that country, in order to procure fresh copies. I had intended to accompany him myself; but I have changed my mind on that point, and prefer remaining where I am. A servant in whom I had every confidence, but who, unfortunately, took to drink, and worse vices, robbed me of them, and has fled to America, with a pretty Frenchwoman, after having abandoned his wife.”
“Ay, ay,” replied the priest, “that is the old story; first drink, and after that wickedness of every description. Ah, sir, it's a poor wretched world; but at the same time it is as God made it; and it becomes our duty to act an honest and a useful part in it, at all events.”
“You seemed depressed, sir, I think,” observed the stranger; “I hope there is nothing wrong. If there is, command my services, my friendship, my purse; in each, in all, command me.”
“Many thanks, many thanks,” returned the other, seizing him warmly by the hand, whilst the tears fell from his eyes. “I wish there were more in the world like you. There is nothing wrong with me, however, but what I will be able, I hope, to set right soon.”
“I trust you will not allow any false delicacy to stand in your way, so far as I am concerned,” said the stranger. “I possess not only the wish but the ability to serve you; and if—”
“Not now,” replied the priest; “nothing to signify is wrong with me. God bless you, though, and he will, too, and prosper your honorable endeavors. I must go now: I have to call on old Corbet, and if I can influence him to assist you in tracing that poor young man, I will do it. He is hard and cunning, I know; but then he is not insensible to the fear of death, which, indeed, is the only argument likely to prevail with him.”