“Was there ever any thing more unfortunate than this evening’s occurrence?” exclaimed the Jesuit. “For months the old man has never been left a moment to himself; and one unguarded interval, what mischief has it not produced! Another interview--and all that you and I for years have laboured to effect is totally, hopelessly---undone!” “It is too true,” replied the steward. “He’ll never make a will now!” “Have we not already made one for him?” said the steward. The priest shook his head--“That deed, my friend, will never bear the light. We stand in a dangerous position; and had not the old man fainted, we were ruined. Even now the mischief is not abated--he talks of nothing but his daughter, and raves about the duty of forgiveness which a father should extend to an erring child. What is to be done?” The steward mused for a minute--his brows contracted, and a dark expression passed across his face. “Father,” he said, “the intruder must be removed.” The Jesuit looked at his companion, but spoke not. The look, however, said--“Would that it were done!” “Money will effect it,” said the steward. The Jesuit continued silent, and then carelessly observed, “I would give a thousand pounds this cursed interview had not occurred!” “Would you, holy father, give as much to prevent a seeond?” asked the steward. The Jesuit nodded. “Enough; I shall act promptly now. Hark! A knock at the door! Come in!” It was a message from Mr. Clifford requiring that the Confessor should attend him instantly. Father Daniels rose. “Stop,” he said, “till I hear what the old man wants.” And, so saying, he left the apartment. He was not absent long; and when he entered the chamber, he held an open letter in his hand. Carefully closing the door, he thus addressed his confederate: “Said I not right--Our position is all but desperate? What think ye was the old man’s business?--To desire the son of his repudiated daughter to return to-morrow; and to give directions, that I should write and order it to be so. Were that to happen, need I name the result?--all--all lost! Well, I obeyed, and wrote this letter”------ “As he dictated?--are you mad, holy father?” inquired the steward. “Not exactly.’Tis thus worded:-- “‘Rash Boy! “‘Your mother’s misconduct wrung my heart, and your unwarrantable intrusion has nearly brought me to the grave. As you dread the malediction of an old man--desist!--_and for ever_ avoid the presence of one who can never look but with abhorrence on the offspring of a guilty daughter.’ “‘Tis signed--ay, and in his own handwriting too-- “‘John Clifford.’” “Excellent! This will prevent another visit,” said the steward. “You are too sanguine, my friend. The young man is daring;--he may make a second effort. If he succeed--if he gain a second time the sight of his grandfather, the tale is told. This fabricated letter may prevent the meeting for a while--but more effectual measures to secure mutual safety are indispensable.”