lungs, only the ball lodged in the shoulder! and now his wife's kinsman--
my kinsman, too--grandmother a Hazeldean,--a hard-reading, sober lad, as
I am given to understand, can't set his foot into the quietest parish in
the three kingdoms, but what the mildest boy that ever was seen makes a
rush at him like a mad bull. It is FATALITY!" cried the squire,
solemnly.

"Ancient legend records similar instances of fatality in certain houses,"
observed Riccabocca. "There was the House of Pelops, and Polynices and
Eteocles, the sons of OEdipus."

"Pshaw!" said the parson; "but what's to be done?"

"Done?" said the squire; "why, reparation must be made to young Leslie.
And though I wished to spare Lenny, the young ruffian, a public disgrace
--for your sake, Parson Dale, and Mrs. Fairfield's--yet a good caning in
private--"

"Stop, sir!" said Riccabocca, mildly, "and hear me." The Italian then,
with much feeling and considerable tact, pleaded the cause of his poor
protege, and explained how Lenny's error arose only from mistaken zeal
for the squire's service, and in the execution of the orders received
from Mr. Stirn.

"That alters the matter," said the squire, softened; "and all that is
necessary now will be for him to make a proper apology to my kinsman."

"Yes, that is just," rejoined the parson; "but I still don't learn how he
got out of the stocks."