“M'Evoy,” said the Colonel, “I am truly sorry for what you have suffered through the villany of my agent; but I will give you redress, and allow you for what you have lost by the transaction. It is true, as I have been lately told by a person who pleaded your cause nobly and eloquently, that I can never repay you for what you have suffered. However, what we can, we will do. You are poor, I understand?” “God he sees that, sir; and afflicted, too, plase your honor.” “Afflicted? How is that?” “I had a son, sir--a blessed boy! a darlin' boy!--once our comfort, an' once we thought he'd be our pride an' our staff, but”-- The poor man's tears here flowed fast; he took up the skirt of his “Cotha More,” or great-coat, and, after wiping his eyes, and clearing his voice, proceeded:-- “He was always, as I said, a blessed boy, and we looked up to him alwayrs, sir. He saw our poverty, your honor, an' he felt it, sir, keen enough, indeed, God help him! How an'-iver, he took it on him to go up to Munster, sir, undher hopes of risin' us--undher the hopes, poor child--an' God knows, sir,--if--oh, Jemmy avourneen ma-chree!--doubt--I doubt you sunk undher what proved too many for you!--I doubt my child's dead, sir--him that all our hearts wor fixed upon; and if that 'ud happen to be the case, nothin'--not even your kindness in doin' us justice, could make us happy. We would rather beg wid him, sir, nor have the best in the world widout him. His poor young heart, sir, was fixed upon the place your honor is restorin' us to; an I'm afeard his mother, sir, would break her heart if she thought he couldn't share our good fortune! And we don't know whether he's livin' or dead! That, sir, is what's afflictin' us. I had some notion of goin' to look for him; but he tould us he would never write, or let us hear from him, till he'd be either one thing or other.” “I can tell you, for your satisfaction, that your son is well, M'Evoy. Believe me, he is well--I know it.” “Well! Before God, does your honor spake truth? Well! Oh, sir, for His sake that died for us, an' for the sake of his blessed mother, can you tell me is my darlin' son alive?” “He is living; is in excellent health; is as well dressed as I am; and has friends as rich and as capable of assisting him as myself. But how is this? What's the matter with you? You are pale! Good God! Here, waiter! Waiter! Waiter, I say!” The Colonel rang the bell violently, and two or three waiters entered at the same moment. “Bring a little wine and water, one of you, and let the other two remove this man to the open window. Be quick. What do you stare at?” In a few minutes the old man recovered, and untying the narrow coarse cravat which he wore, wiped the perspiration off his pale face. “Pray, don't be too much affected,” said the Colonel. “Waiter, bring up refreshment--bring wine--be quiet and calm--you are weak, poor fellow--but we will strengthen you by-and-by.”