On the following day, Desmond left the brigade, and, followed by
Mike, rode for Madrid, where was still lying a letter which had
arrived, some months before, from England. He had not asked for it
to be forwarded, for if he had been killed, and it had been found
on him, it might do his memory a great disservice, as it would
seem that he had been in correspondence with the British. The
letter, which contained an enclosure, was, to his surprise, from
Lord Godolphin. It ran:
Dear Captain Kennedy:
Partly at the request of the Earl of Galway, and still more from
my own remembrance of your conduct, in that affair you know of,
and of the silence that you maintained concerning it, I have
pleasure in sending you a safe conduct to visit Ireland on private
affairs. The earl tells me that you have rendered him the greatest
of services, and this alone should cancel the fact that you have
been serving against us in Flanders and Spain. For this, and your
conduct to myself, I can promise you that should you, at any time
while I am in power, decide to remain in Ireland, I will obtain
for you a full and complete pardon, and a restoration to all your
rights as an Irish subject of the queen. I will also obtain a
reversal of any attainders or acts of confiscation that may have
been passed against your family, on your giving your promise that
you will not take part in any secret plots or conspiracies against
the reigning family, though, in the event of a general rising in
Ireland, with the assistance perhaps of a French army, you would
be at liberty to choose your own course of action, without
incurring more pains and penalties than those which might befall
any native of Ireland waging war against the queen.
As both Godolphin and Marlborough were known to be by no means
unfavourably disposed to the cause of the Stuarts, Desmond was
hardly surprised at the latter part of this intimation. Though he
had but small hopes of being enabled to remain permanently at
home, it was yet very welcome to him. Certainly, if he remained in
Ireland he would consider himself bound to hold himself aloof from
all Jacobite plots, although, if the country rose and a French
army landed, he would, unless he considered the cause a hopeless
one, draw his sword on behalf of him whom he considered as his
lawful sovereign.
"It is not sorry I am, your honour, to be turning my back on this
country," Mike said, as they rode out from the gate. "The wine is
good, which is more than I can say for anything else in it, except
that the people are good Catholics."
"I am starting a longer journey than you think, Mike. I am only
going to the duke, now, to ask for a year's leave; though I do not
think that I shall be absent more than a few months."
"And where are you going, your honour, if I may make so bold as to
ask?"
"I am going to Ireland, Mike."
Mike looked at him with astonishment.
"To Ireland, your honour? Sure they will hang you, before you set
your foot a week in the country."
"I have obtained a safe conduct, Mike, from Lord Godolphin. You
remember him, the nobleman we kidnapped?"
"Sure I remember him, your honour; and he has given you a safe
conduct? It is in luck you are, to be going back to Ireland
again."
"It is not a visit of pleasure, Mike. I am going over to try to
ascertain to which branch of my family I belong."
"And what can it matter, your honour? It's a good name you have
made for yourself out here."
"I have done well enough, Mike, but I am tired of being asked, by
almost every officer I meet, about my family, when in fact I know
nothing myself."
"Well, Captain, it does not seem to me worth troubling about, for
if you don't know who they are, it is little they can have done
for you."
"It would seem so, Mike. There is a mystery about the whole
affair, and I want to get to the bottom of it."
He rode silently for some distance. He knew that Mike would go
through fire and water for him, and that, simple as he seemed, he
had no ordinary amount of shrewdness; and he determined to tell
him all he knew, especially as he intended to take him to Ireland
with him.
"Mike," he said at last, "I suppose you would like to pay a visit
to Ireland, also?"
"I should that," Mike said, emphatically. "I was but eighteen when
I came out here to enlist in the brigade--that is twelve years ago
now, and it is few people would be likely to know me again."
"Well, I am thinking of taking you with me, Mike; and, as possibly
you may be of use in my search, I will tell you my story."
And he related the history of his youth.
"He must be an unfeeling baste, to treat you like that," Mike
exclaimed indignantly. "Sure I know the name, and have heard him
spoken of as a traitor who had gone over to the enemy, and turned
Protestant to save his estate."
"That is how you would hear him spoken of, Mike, for it is true;
but as to his treatment of me, it all depends whether I was forced
upon him by threats, or was taken by him out of friendship to my
father. If it were the first of these reasons, he cannot be blamed
for keeping me at a distance. If the second, he certainly ought to
have behaved differently. But neither explains why he, a supporter
of the usurper, should have sent me out to France to fight against
the English. It is a hard nut to crack."
Mike agreed. "Mighty hard; but your honour will get to the bottom
of it, never fear. And why are we going to the duke, master?"
"To get leave of absence. I cannot disappear suddenly, without
asking for leave. I shall, of course, tell the Duke of Berwick
exactly why I am going, and I feel sure he will grant my request,
without hesitation. There is no fighting to be done, just at
present, and even if there were, one officer more or less would
make no difference.
"Have you any relations in Ireland, Mike?"
"None that I know of, sir, barring a sister, who was twelve years
older than myself; and it is little I saw of her, for she married
when I was a bit of a gossoon. Her husband was killed in the siege
of Limerick, and I heard that after it was over, she went to
settle with some cousins in Cork. Whether she is there now, is
married again, or is dead years ago, is more than I can say,
seeing that I have never heard of her since."
"Was she with her husband in the siege of Limerick?"
"She was that. I heard about her from some men who knew her
husband. They said, after he was killed, she went as a servant in
the family of an officer and his wife for a bit, but the officer
was killed, and the lady died of grief and trouble; and it was
hard work she had to live till the place surrendered. That is all
I know about it, your honour. It might have been true, and it
might not. I was but a boy, and maybe I bothered the man with
questions, and he just told me what came into his head to keep me
quiet."
"Well, at any rate, Mike, as we shall most likely land at Cork,
you might try to find your sister out. If she went through the
siege, she will know the names of many of the officers. She may
have heard of a Kennedy."
"Maybe of half a dozen, your honour. As loyal gentlemen, they
would be sure to be there."
"What was her name, Mike?"
"Sure it was the same as my own before she married, just Norah
Callaghan."
"So I suppose, Mike," Desmond said with a laugh; "but what was the
name of the husband?"
"Rooney. I have not thought of it this many a year, but it is sure
I am that it was Rooney; and now I think of it, a message came to
me from her, just before I left the country, saying that should I
ever be in the neighbourhood, it is glad she would be to see me;
and I was to ask for Mrs. Rooney, who lived with her cousin, Larry
Callaghan, a ship's carpenter, in Middle Lane, which I should find
by the river bank."
"Well, that is something to go by, Mike. Of course, she may have
moved away long since; but if her cousin is a ship's carpenter, it
is not likely that he would have left the neighbourhood."
"I wonder your honour never asked about the Kennedys from some of
the officers who were at the siege?"
"I did not like to do so. The colonel came to the conclusion that
I must be the son of Murroch Kennedy, who came out soon after
Limerick surrendered, and was killed at Breda two or three months
after he joined the brigade. The officers agreed with the colonel
that this gentleman was probably my father, and of course I was
contented that it should be supposed so, and therefore I asked no
questions about other Kennedys. Of late, however, I have been
worried over the matter. In the Irish regiments in Spain, as
elsewhere, were a number of officers belonging to good old Irish
families, and though I have got on well enough with them--in the
first place as Berwick's aide-de-camp, and afterwards as on the
staff of the generals here--I could see that when, in answer to
their question, it was evident I knew little or nothing of my
family, there was a sort of coolness in their manner which I could
quite understand, counting back their ancestors, as they did,
pretty nearly to the flood. At present, it does not make any
difference to me personally, one way or the other, but I am
convinced that if, by chance, when I get older, I should fall in
love with the daughter of an officer of one of these old families,
he would not for a moment listen to me, until I could give him
some proofs that I had a right to the name I bear, or at any rate
came of a good family. Certainly, at present, I could not assure
him on either point. I only know that I have always been called
Kennedy, and that it was under that name that I was committed to
the care of Father O'Leary. That proves nothing more than that it
is the name by which John O'Carroll wished me to be called; and it
is as likely as not--indeed a good deal more likely--that it was
not the true one."
"Well, at any rate, your honour, you have made the name of Desmond
Kennedy well known and liked, both among the Irish and French
officers, for it is no slight thing that an officer in an infantry
regiment should be taken on the staff of the Duke of Berwick."
"All that is very well, Mike; but it will not satisfy me more than
it satisfies others. So I am resolved to try to get to the bottom
of the affair, even if I have to go direct to John O'Carroll,
though I know that the chance of his telling me anything is but
slight. The only way, indeed, that seems likely to lead to
anything is to call upon as many of the Kennedys as I can
discover, and ask whether Murroch Kennedy, who left Ireland after
the siege of Limerick, married and left a child of two years old
behind him. If so, and that child suddenly disappeared when his
father left for France, there would be every reason for assuming
that I was the child in question; though why he should have
committed me to the charge of John O'Carroll, instead of to one of
his own family, is not easily seen; unless the whole of the
Kennedys were in such ill favour, with the English Government,
that he thought it better to trust me to one who was in good odour
with the supporters of Dutch William, and was therefore safe from
disturbance in his estates."
"Sure, your honour, you are arguing it out like a counsellor, and
there is no gainsaying what you have spoken. I have no doubt you
will ferret it out. With such a head as you have on your
shoulders, it is hard if you cannot circumvent that ould rascal at
Kilkargan."
"At any rate we will try, you and I. While I am visiting the
Kennedys, you can be finding out people who were at Limerick
during the siege, and gather all they can remember about the
Kennedys there."
As Desmond had expected, the duke, as soon as he heard his story,
at once granted him leave of absence.
"I hope you may succeed, Kennedy," he said. "It is a poor lookout
to be risking death continually in the service of a foreign king.
I grant that we have the knack of making ourselves at home,
wherever we may be, and there are Irish officers in every army in
Europe; but, however successful Irishmen may be, they cannot but
long to be among their own people in their own land. And if, as
you tell me, Lord Godolphin will befriend you, I for one shall
think no worse of you if you settle down at home when you have
found your family. I know that if the sword should be again drawn,
with a fair prospect of success, you will declare for the rightful
king."
"That I should certainly do, sir; and will assuredly give no
promise, or undertaking, to abstain from joining any royal army
that may be raised in Ireland. But it is not with any intention of
settling at home that I am going there, but simply, as I have told
you, to discover to what family I belong, so that I can have a
right to the name I bear."
"At what port will you embark?"
"I intend to pay a visit, for a few days, to the Baron de
Pointdexter and Monsieur de la Vallee, after which I shall cross
into Italy. I have no doubt that I shall be able to find some
fishermen, at Toulon, who will undertake to land me somewhere near
Genoa, where I shall be able to take a passage in a ship bound for
England."
"And I suppose you take your servant with you?"
"With your permission, Duke. He has been my companion for three
years. He is shrewd as well as brave, and will give me valuable
help in my enquiries."
After remaining a couple of days with Berwick's army, Desmond
started with Mike, and received the warmest welcome from the Baron
de Pointdexter, and afterwards from Philip and his wife. Then they
travelled on to Toulon, where Desmond sold the horses and
equipments. He left his uniform and Mike's there, and procured two
civilian suits. As he anticipated, he experienced no difficulty in
arranging to be landed near Genoa. There he found several ships
bound for England or Ireland, and took a passage in one that would
touch at Cork, on its way to Dublin. The voyage was uneventful,
and the ship, which had no great draught of water, proceeded up
the river to the city.
"The first thing to do, Mike," Desmond said, as they stepped
ashore, "is to get rid of these clothes, whose French cut will at
once attract attention. I shall get a suit such as is worn by an
Irish gentleman. You had better equip yourself as my servant. No
livery is worn here, but any quiet dress will be suitable."
They put up at a small inn, and remained there until a suit such
as Desmond desired was made for him, and Mike found no difficulty
in purchasing ready-made clothes suitable to his new position.
Desmond had taken rooms as Mr. Kennedy, and had asked carelessly
if there were any families of that name living in the neighbourhood.
"There is one who lives a short distance out of the town. It is a
small house, and shame it is that one of the old family should
come down so; but most of their estates were stolen from them
after the war. Still, the old man holds his head as if he was
still lord of broad acres, and he is mightily respected among the
gentry."
The next day, Desmond hired a horse and rode out to the house of
Mr. Kennedy, which was some three miles from the town. He sent in
his name, and was shown into a room, where a tall man, with a
somewhat haughty air, received him not unkindly.
"Your name is the same as my own," he said, "though I do not
recognize the name of Desmond Kennedy among such members of the
family as I am acquainted with."
"I have but just landed from France, and my object in coming here
is to obtain some information as to my father's family. Hearing
that a gentleman of the name lived here, I came first to you. May
I ask if you were acquainted with a Murroch Kennedy?"
"Surely I was. He was my first cousin. We fought side by side at
Limerick. I was not one of those who cared to enter foreign
service. My estates were confiscated, and I have ever since lived
here on the wreck of my fortune, taking no part in politics.
"My cousin was of a different mind. He did not, indeed, go out at
once with the greater part of the army of Limerick, but still,
hoping that the cause was not altogether lost, he lived for some
months among the mountains, and took part in a rising which was
promptly suppressed, and then joined the Irish Brigade; and I
received a notification, from one of his brother officers, that he
had fallen at the battle of Breda. And now may I ask, in turn,
what Murroch Kennedy's relationship was to you?"
"I will tell you, sir. But first, will you kindly inform me
whether your cousin left a child about a year old behind him?"
"Certainly not, sir. My cousin was an unmarried man, at any rate
up to the time when he left Ireland."
"Then, sir, my questions are at an end. I may tell you that, about
the time your cousin left Ireland, I was sent as an infant to the
care of John O'Carroll, the traitor, of Kilkargan, and was brought
up under the name of Desmond Kennedy. He showed me but little
kindness, and, nearly three years ago, I went abroad and obtained
a commission in one of the regiments in the Irish Brigade, and now
hold the rank of captain. For many reasons, I am anxious to find
out what family I belong to. It was assumed, by my colonel and
fellow officers, that I was the son of Murroch Kennedy, and I
wished to ascertain whether this was true, and with that object
obtained leave of absence, and made my way back."
"I am sorry that I can give you no assistance, sir. Assuredly you
are not the son of my cousin, Murroch Kennedy; and had you been,
John O'Carroll, the traitor, would have been the last man to whom
he would have entrusted you. I know well the history of all the
members of my branch of the family, and can answer, with
certainty, that no child was lost, or missing, or unaccounted for
at the time he went out; and as all were loyal gentlemen, none
would have had any dealings with John O'Carroll, who betrayed the
cause for which his brother died fighting at Limerick. I will,
however, jot down, for your information, the other branches of the
family of Kennedy and their places of residence, though I fear
that there is but little probability of your search being
successful, as, during the years that have elapsed since the late
war, many must have died. Others, like my cousin, have taken
service in one or other of the continental armies. Moreover, there
is also a possibility that the name by which you are known is not
your own."
"I feel that myself, sir, and fear that my enquiries will not meet
with success. Still, I shall pursue them until I have at least
proved that I cannot belong to any well-known branch of the
family. I am much obliged to you, for having so courteously
answered my questions, and for your offer to give me a list of the
various branches of the family."
For the next few minutes, Mr. Kennedy was engaged in making out
the list, which he then handed to Desmond.
"And now, sir," the former went on, "that we have finished what we
may consider business, will you tell me a little more about
yourself? Your story naturally interests me, and I own that I am
surprised that a young gentleman who, from what you have told me,
cannot be much more than twenty years old, has risen to the rank
of captain, in a brigade where so many officers have signally
distinguished themselves. Your story, too, is an interesting one,
and seems to me in many respects remarkable; and possibly, when I
hear more of how you came to be brought up by John O'Carroll, it
may throw some light upon the subject."
Desmond gave a detailed account of his life as a boy, and a short
sketch of his subsequent adventures.
"A romantic story, young sir," Mr. Kennedy said, when he had
finished, "and to whatever family you belong, they should be proud
of possessing so gallant a member. You tell me that you have a
safe conduct, but you did not mention how you obtained it."
Desmond had abstained from making any allusion, either to the
affair with Lord Godolphin, or to that with the Earl of Galway,
and he replied:
"Sir, this is a secret that concerns other people, as well as
myself, consequently I am not at liberty to explain it. I may say,
however, that it was given to me on my engagement that my visit to
Ireland was one of a private nature only, and that I would in no
way meddle with politics. When I tell you that the Duke of
Berwick, himself, granted me the necessary leave of absence, it
will prove to you that he, on his part, was well satisfied that
the safe conduct had been issued to me without any unworthy
offers, on my part, to the Princess Anne's ministers."
After chatting for some time longer, Desmond took his leave and
returned to Cork.
Mike was standing at the door of the inn.
"I have had no success, Mike. Have you fared better?"
"I have not found her yet, your honour, but I have great hopes of
doing so. Larry Callaghan died four years ago, and the woman of
the house she occupied said that Mrs. Rooney moved, with his widow
and children, to some other part of the town. She knew little
about them, seeing that she only went into the house after they
had left; but her husband worked in the same yard as Larry did,
and she thought that he would be able to find out, from some of
the old hands, where the widow Callaghan had moved to. She said
she would ask her husband when he came home to his dinner, and
maybe he would be able to give her some news.
"And so, your honour has learned nothing about yourself?"
"Nothing, Mike, except that I am certainly not the son of Murroch
Kennedy, who was a cousin of the gentleman I called on. I was
assured that he was a single man, when he went to France. However,
he gave me a list of the principal branches of the Kennedy family,
but there is no hurry about starting to see them, and I will
certainly wait here till you find your sister, which should not be
many days, for some of Callaghan's fellow workmen are almost sure
to know where his widow lives."
Mike went out, at seven o'clock that evening, and returned half an
hour later.
"I have got the address, your honour. She and the widow Callaghan
have got a little place outside the town, and take in washing
there, and are going on nicely."
"I am pleased to hear it, I am sure, Mike. I have but small hope
that she will be able to give any useful information, but for your
sake, I am glad that you have found a sister whom you have not
seen for so many years. I suppose you will go up there, at once."
"I will that. They will have done their work, and we shall have a
comfortable talk, whereas she would not thank me if I were to drop
in when she was busy at the washtub."
"Well, you might ask her to come down, tomorrow morning, to see
me. Of course, she shall not be a loser by giving up her morning's
work."
"Whisht, your honour! When she knows how much you have done for
me, and how you have treated me, she would willingly lose a week's
work to give you pleasure. Well, I will be off at once."
It was eleven o'clock before Mike returned.
"We have had a great talk, your honour, me and Norah. She would
not believe at first that I was her brother, and in truth, I found
it hard to credit that she was Norah, who was a purty colleen when
I saw her last; but when we had convinced each other that we were
both who we said we were, matters went on pleasantly. I told her
some of my adventures with you, and that, by the same token, I had
a hundred gold pieces that the Baron of Pointdexter had given me,
sewn up in a belt round my waist, where it has been ever since I
got it, except when we went into battle, or on that expedition to
Scotland, when, as your honour knows, I always put it in with the
agent in your name, seeing that I would rather, if I was killed,
know that your honour would have it, instead of its being taken by
some villain searching the dead. I told her that, if she and Mrs.
Callaghan wanted to take a bigger place, I would share it with
her, and that quite settled the matter, in her mind, that I was
her brother. She said, as I knew she would, that she would come
and talk to you for a week, if you wanted it; and she will be here
tomorrow, at nine o'clock."
"That is very satisfactory. I am afraid nothing will come of our
talk; but still, one may get a clue to other Kennedys who were
present at the siege of Limerick."
Punctually at nine o'clock, Mike ushered his sister into Desmond's
sitting room.
"I am glad to see you, Mrs. Rooney. Your brother has been with me
for three years, and has rendered me very many services, and I
regard him as a friend, rather than as a servant. I am glad that
he has found his sister, from whom he had been so long parted."
"Mike has been telling me how good you have been to him, and that
he would go through fire and water for you, and that you have had
some wonderful adventures together. He said you wanted to speak to
me about the siege of Limerick. If there is anything that I can
tell you, your honour, I will do so gladly."
"What I want to know is, what Kennedys were at the siege?"
"There was Murroch Kennedy, and Phelim, who was always called 'Red
Kennedy', on account of his colour; and James and Fergus. I knew
all those, because they were friends of my master's. It may be
that there were many others, but they were unbeknown to me."
"Am I like any of them?"
The woman looked at him searchingly.
"You are not, sir; but you are mighty like my master, barring, of
course, that he was a man ten years older than yourself. But the
more I look at you, the more I see the likeness."
"I did not know that you had a master, Mrs. Rooney. I thought that
you were there with your husband."
"So I was, your honour; but when he was kilt I was left alone,
saving for a child that had been born a fortnight before; and what
with the bad smells of the place, and the sound of the cannon, and
the fact of my grief, he pined away all at once, and died a week
after me husband. It is well-nigh starving we all were. Even the
fighting men had scarce enough food to keep their strength up, and
a lone woman would have died from hunger. So I was mighty glad,
when a friend of mine told me that there was an officer's lady who
had had a baby, and, being but weak and ailing, wanted a foster
mother for it; so I went at once and got the place, and was with
her for a month.
"Her husband was killed three weeks after I went there, and the
blow was too much for her, and she died a week later. A fortnight
after that came the peace, and as everything was in confusion,
what wid our soldiers all going away to France, and the
persecutions and slaughterings, I took the child with me and went
down to my cousin Larry's here. Av course, I could not part with
it, and I could not make my way alone across the country, so I
came down here with the troops. I was not strong myself, and it
was a year later before I was able to take it to its friends."
"What was the name of your master?" Desmond asked eagerly, for her
last words had excited a sudden train of ideas in his mind.
"He was Mr. James O'Carroll, a great gentleman, and the head of
his family."
Desmond sprang to his feet.
"That explains it all!" he exclaimed. "Mrs. Rooney, I have no
doubt that I am your foster child."
"Why, how can that be, your honour, seeing as your name is
Kennedy? Though, except for that, you might well be so, seeing
that you are so like my master."
"At any rate, Mrs. Rooney, I was reared at Kilkargan, at the
expense of John O'Carroll, and was, as I heard, brought there by a
woman when I was a year old. O'Carroll said that my name was
Desmond Kennedy, but I had only his word for it."
"Then how is it that you are not master of Kilkargan, for if you
are Mr. James O'Carroll's son, it is you that ought to be? I have
always thought of you as there. I have not been in the way of
getting news. I left my address with Mr. John, but I never heard
from him, or you. I thought, perhaps, that he might have lost the
address, but I never dreamt that you had been kept out of your
own."
"I don't know that I can say that, altogether," Desmond said;
"for, if it had been known that James O'Carroll had left an heir,
his estates would certainly have been confiscated; whereas, owing
to his brother's turning Protestant, and joining the Williamites,
he was allowed to keep possession of them. I can understand now
what seemed so strange, namely, that he feared I might somehow
learn that I was his nephew, and heir to the estates. Therefore,
he behaved as if I was the son of a stranger, and when I was old
enough, sent me off to join the Irish Brigade, in hopes that he
had seen the last of me; for, even if not killed, I should never
be able to set foot in Ireland again after fighting for France.
'Tis strange that none of my father's brother officers ever made
any enquiries about it."
"They all went with the army to France, sir. They knew, of course,
that the child was born, though they may never have seen you, for
the mistress never left her bed after you were born. Naturally,
after her death they lost sight of me, and might well have
believed that the child had died."
"You must give me the names of all the officers who came to the
house, Mrs. Rooney. Many of them may be alive still, and their
testimony that a child was born would be most important, for at
present there is only your word against John O'Carroll's."
"There is more than that, sir. You were baptized on the day she
died. My mistress gave me the paper the priest had given to her,
saying that it was of the greatest importance to you, and that I
was to give it to Mr. John O'Carroll when, as I promised, I took
the child to him."
"And did you give it him?" Desmond asked eagerly.
"No, your honour. I took it with me to the castle, but from the
reception I got, I thought it best to say nothing about it, but to
give it to yourself when you were old enough. I have got it at
home now. There it is, certifying that Gerald O'Carroll, the son
of James O'Carroll and his wife Elizabeth, was baptized by him on
the 6th of September, 1692."
"That is fortunate, indeed," Desmond exclaimed. "And now, tell me
how this uncle of mine received you."
"Faith, your honour, he was mightily put out, at first. He said
that I was an impostor, and that he would have me given in charge.
I told him that I had proofs that what I said was true, and that
there were many gentlemen, brother officers of Mr. James, who
would speak for me, and say in court that a son was born to his
brother before he died. He wanted to get out of me what proofs I
had, and who were the officers; but I told him that was my
business. Then he cooled down, and after a time he said that, if
he were to let it be known that Mr. James had left a son, the
estate would surely be confiscated, seeing that his father died as
a rebel fighting against the king; but that, as soon as the
persecutions had ceased, and it would be safe to do so, he would
say who the child was, and give him his rightful place. That
seemed reasonable enough, and so I left you with him, and have
always supposed that he kept his word; and that, as soon as it was
safe, he acknowledged you to be master of your father's estate."
"And now, Mrs. Rooney, I must think matters over, and see how I
had best proceed. I feel how much I owe to you, and, if I recover
my estates, you shall see that I am not ungrateful. Will you come
again tomorrow morning, and bring with you the certificate of my
baptism, and all the names that you can recollect of the officers
who were intimate with my father?"