“Were not these people all strangers to you t' other day, Fossbrooke?” said Cave, in something like a tone of reprehension. “So they were. I had never so much as heard of them; but she, this girl, has a claim upon my interest, founded on a resemblance so strong that when I see her, I live back again in the long past, and find myself in converse with the dearest friends I ever had. I vow to Heaven I never knew the bitterness of want of fortune till now! I never felt how powerless and insignificant poverty can make a man till I desired to contribute to this girl's happiness; and if I were not an old worthless wreck,--shattered and unseaworthy,--I 'd set to work to-morrow to refit and try to make a fortune to bestow on her.” If Cave was half disposed to banter the old man on what seemed little short of a devoted attachment, the agitation of Fossbrooke's manner--his trembling lip, his shaking voice, his changing color--all warned him to forbear, and abstain from what might well have proved a perilous freedom. “You will dine with us at mess, Fossbrooke, won't you?” “No; I shall return at once to Killaloe. I made Dr. Lendrick's acquaintance just as I started by the train. I want to see more of him. Besides, now that I know what was the emergency that called young Trafford up here, I have nothing to detain me.” “Shall you see him before you go?” “Of course. I am going over to his quarters now.” “You will not mention our conversation?” “Certainly not.” “I 'd like to show you my letter before I send it off. I 'd be glad to think it was what you recommended.” “Write what you feel to be a fair statement of the case, and if by any chance an inclination to partiality crosses you, let it be in favor of the young. Take my word for it, Cave, there is a selfishness in age that needs no ally. Stand by the sons; the fathers and mothers will take care of themselves. Good-bye.” CHAPTER XII. A GREAT MAN'S SCHOOLFELLOW Whether it was that the Chief Baron had thrown off an attack which had long menaced him, and whose slow approaches had gradually impaired his strength and diminished his mental activity, or whether, as some of his “friends” suggested, that the old man's tenure of life had been renewed by the impertinences of the newspapers and the insolent attacks of political foes,--an explanation not by any means far-fetched,--whatever the cause, he came out of his illness with all the signs of renewed vigor, and with a degree of mental acuteness that he had not enjoyed for many years before.