for you and my great affection for himself, he has asked me to prepare
you to receive his confession and forgive him. I know I am taking a
great liberty. I have no right to interfere between father and son;
but pray--pray think I mean for the best."

"Humph!" said the squire, recovering himself very slowly, and showing
evident pain, "I knew already that Frank had spent more than he ought;
but I think he should not have employed a third person to prepare me to
forgive him. (Excuse me,--no offence.) And if he wanted a third person,
was not there his own mother? What the devil! [firing up] am I a
tyrant, a bashaw, that my own son is afraid to speak to me? 'Gad, I'll
give it him!"

"Pardon me, sir," said Randal, assuming at once that air of authority
which superior intellect so well carries off and excuses, "but I strongly
advise you not to express any anger at Frank's confidence in me. At
present I have influence over him. Whatever you may think of his
extravagance, I have saved him from many an indiscretion, and many a
debt,--a young man will listen to one of his own age so much more readily
than even to the kindest friend of graver years. Indeed, sir, I speak
for your sake as well as for Frank's. Let me keep this influence over
him; and don't reproach him for the confidence placed in me. Nay, let
him rather think that I have softened any displeasure you might otherwise
have felt."

There seemed so much good sense in what Randal said, and the kindness of
it seemed so disinterested, that the squire's native shrewdness was
deceived.

"You are a fine young fellow," said he, "and I am very much obliged to