‘Emigration!’ said Blake. ‘’Twas that Dick Conseltine was advising the other day. Faix, ye’re all in a mighty hurry to get rid o’ poor old Pat Blake. Well, Peebles, I’ll trust ye. I’ve always found ye square and honest, and I like the boy. I’d rather see him with the title than that ape cub o’ Dick Conseltine’s, any day of the year. As for the help I can give ye, well, there’s me licence to preach, marry, and bury, signed by the Bishop, and granted at Maynooth College. I’ve got it at home at Blake’s Hall to this day, and faith, if that’s not enough, I can find a score o’ people at my old cure who’ll remember me and swear to my identity.’ At this moment he was interrupted by a rap at the pantry door, and a servant announced that Peebles was needed in my lord’s chamber. ‘Wait here,’ said the old man to Blake. ‘I’ll no’ be long.’ Peebles mounted the stairs, and found Kilpatrick seated at the open window of his room. He gave some commonplace instructions which could quite easily have been fulfilled by any other servant in the house. Peebles, who knew his master’s mind as though he had made him, obeyed the orders, and stood at his elbow silently. ‘Well, Peebles? well?’ asked Kilpatrick. ‘Well, my lord?’ said Peebles, ‘What are you waiting for?’ ‘For your lordship’s orders.’ Kilpatrick sat twisting his fingers in a nervous silence for a second or two, and then abruptly asked: ‘Where’s Desmond? I suppose you’ve seen him lately?’ ‘Ay!’ said Peebles, ‘I saw him last night.’ ‘And what had the young scamp to say for himself? Still on the high horse, I suppose? When does he propose to honour my house with his presence again?’ ‘God forgive us!’ said Peebles, shaking his head at his master with a mournful reproof. ‘“Still on his high horse,” quotha! ’Tis you that are walking wi’ the bare feet o’ conscience in the mire o’ repentance, if your silly pride would let ye own till it.’ Kilpatrick tried to look angrily at the old man, but the continued slow shake of Peebles’ head, and the calm penetration of the eyes that dwelt on his, cowed him. ‘I ask you, Peebles,’ he cried suddenly, ‘is not my position a hard one?’ ‘Sair hard,’ said Peebles; ‘but ye made it yoursel’, and ye hae nae right to grumble.’ ‘It’s harder than I deserve,’ cried Kilpatrick. ‘If--if it was the--the just measure of punishment for--for that silly indiscretion of years ago, I should not complain, but----’ ‘My lord!’ said Peebles, ‘dinna gang beyond God’s patience. “Just measure o’ punishment!” “too hard!” I wonder ye hae the presumption to sit in that chair, and talk to me that ken the circumstances.’ ‘Hold your tongue, confound you!’ said his master. ‘That will I no’,’ returned Peebles, ’till as your speeritual weelwisher and your carnal servant I hae done my best to purge your heart o’ the black vanity ye cherish.’ ‘Go to the devil, you canting old scoundrel!’ screamed Kilpatrick.