passions of our nature, feel an inclination, almost instinctive, to
take such men into their intrigues and deliberations. The tyrant and
oppressor discovers the disposition and character of his slave and
instrument with as much sagacity as is displayed by the highly bred dog
that scents out the game of which the sportsman is in pursuit. In this
respect, however, it not unfrequently happens, that even those who are
most confident in the penetration with which they make such selections,
are woefully mistaken in the result.

We allude particularly to the death of Edward Corbet, at this stage
of our narrative, because, from that event, the train of circumstances
which principally constitute the body of our narrative originated.

His brother had been with him in the early part of the day on which he
breathed his last. On arriving at the mansion in Merrion square, he met
Lady Gourlay on the steps of the hall door, about to enter her carriage.

"I am glad you are come, Corbet," she said--"Your poor brother has been
calling for you--see him instantly--for his sands are numbered. The
doctor thinks he cannot pass the turn of the day."

"God bless your ladyship," replied Corbet, "for your uncommon kindness
and attention to him during his long and severe illness. All that could
be done for a person in his circumstances, your ladyship did; and I know
he is deeply sensible of it, my lady."

"It was only my duty, Corbet," she replied, "to a true-hearted and
faithful servant, for such he was to our family. I could not forget
the esteem in which his master, my dear husband, held him, nor the
confidence which he never failed, and justly, to repose in him. Go