perfectly true; an eldest son was a most difficult tenant to eject; and
then, the ignominy of having his heir arrested in his own house, or
detained there by bailiffs lurking round the premises! He could not
determine whether it would be more painful to keep his son, or to give
him up. If he did the latter, he would be driven to effect it by a most
disagreeable process. He would have to assist the officers of the law
in their duty, and to authorise them to force the doors locked by his
son. The prospect, either way, was horrid. He would willingly give the
five hundred pounds to be rid of his heir, were it not for his word's
sake, or rather his pride's sake. He had said he would not, and, as he
walked up and down the room he buttoned up his breeches pocket, and
tried to resolve that, come what come might, he would not expedite his
son's departure by the outlay of one shilling.

The candles had been put out, and the gloom of the room was only
lightened by a single bed-room taper, which, as it stood near the door,
only served to render palpable the darkness of the further end of the
chamber. For half an hour Lord Cashel walked to and fro, anxious,
wretched, and in doubt, instead of going to his room. How he wished
that Lord Ballindine had married his ward, and taken her off six months
since!--all this trouble would not then have come upon him. And as he
thought of the thirty thousand pounds that he had spent, and the thirty
thousand more that he must spend, he hurried on with such rapidity that
in the darkness he struck his shin violently against some heavy piece
of furniture, and, limping back to the candlestick, swore through his
teeth--"No, not a penny, were it to save him from perdition! I'll see
the sheriff's officer. I'll see the sheriff himself, and tell him that
every door in the house--every closet--every cellar, shall be open to
him. My house shall enable no one to defy the law." And, with this
noble resolve, to which, by the bye, the blow on his shin greatly
contributed, Lord Cashel went to bed, and the house was at rest.

About nine o'clock on the following morning Lord Kilcullen was still in
bed, but awake. His servant had been ordered to bring him hot water,
and he was seriously thinking of getting up, and facing the troubles
of the day, when a very timid knock at the door announced to him that
some stranger was approaching. He adjusted his nightcap, brought the
bed-clothes up close to his neck, and on givi