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Penelope, scheming to secure for himself an early cup of tea. There was Lady Binks also, with her wonted degree of sullenness in her beautiful face, angry at her husband as usual, and not disposed to be pleased with Lord Etherington for being absent, when she desired to excite Sir Bingo's jealousy. This she had discovered to be the most effectual way of tormenting the Baronet, and she rejoiced in it with the savage glee of a hackney coachman, who has found a rate, where he can make his poor jade feel the whip. The rest of the company were also in attendance as usual. MacTurk himself was present, notwithstanding that he thought it an egregious waste of hot water, to bestow it upon compounding any mixture saving punch. He had of late associated himself a good deal with the traveller; not that they by any means resembled each other in temper or opinions, but rather because there was that degree of difference betwixt them which furnished perpetual subject for dispute and discussion. They were not long, on the present occasion, ere they lighted on a fertile source of controversy.

of you, and forgot to take it up when you come back again.'

"Py Cot! and I can tell you, sir," said the Captain, elevating at once his voice and his nostrils, and snuffing the air with a truculent and indignant visage, "that I will not permit you or any man to throw any such scandal on my character.-I thank Cot, I can bring good witness that I am as good a Christian as another, for a poor sinner, as the best of us are; and I am ready to justify my religion with my swordCot tamn!-Compare my own self with a parcel of black heathen bodies and natives, that were never in the inner side of a kirk whilst they lived, but go about worshipping stocks and stones, and swinging themselves upon bamboos, like peasts, as they are An indignant growling in his throat, which sounded like the acquiescence of his inward man in the indignant proposition which his external organs thus expressed, concluded this haughty speech, which, however, made not the least impression on Touchwood, who cared as little for angry tones and looks as he did for fine speeches. So that it is likely a quarrel between the Christian preceptor and the peacemaker might have occurred for the amusement of the company, had not the attention of both, but particularly that of Touchwood, been diverted from the topic of debate by the entrance of Lord Etherington and my-Mowbray.

"Never tell me of your points of honour," said Touchwood, raising his voice altogether above the general tone of polite conversation-"all humbug, Captain MacTurk-mere hair-traps to springe woodcocks-men of sense break through them."

"Upon my word, sir," said the Captain, "and self is surprised to hear you-for, look you, sir, every man's honour is the breath of his nostrils-Cot tamn!" "Then let men breathe through their mouths, and be d-d," returned the controversialist. "I tell you, sir, that, besides its being forbidden, both by law and gospel, it's an idiotical and totally absurd practice, that of duelling. An honest savage has more sense than to practise it-he takes his bow or his gun, as the thing may be, and shoots his enemy from behind a bush. And a very good way; for you see there can, in that case, be only one man's death between them.' "Saul of my body, sir," said the Captain, "gin ye promulgate sic doctrines amang the good company, it's my belief you will bring somebody to the gal

lows.

"Thank ye, Captain, with all my heart; but I stir up no quarrels-I leave war to them that live by it. I only say, that, except our old, stupid ancestors in the north-west here, I know no country so silly as to harbour this custom of duelling. It is unknown in Africa, among the negroes-in America."

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"Don't tell me that," said the Captain; a Yankee will fight with muskets and buck-shot, rather than sit still with an affront. I should know Jonathan, I think."

"Altogether unknown among the thousand tribes of India.'

The former was, as usual, all grace, smiles, and gentleness. Yet, contrary to his wonted custom, which usually was, after a few general compliments, to attach himself particularly to Lady Binks, the Earl, on the present occasion, avoided the side of the room on which that beautiful but sullen idol held her station, and attached himself exclusively to Lady Penelope Penfeather, enduring, without flinching, the strange variety of conceited barardage, which that lady's natural parts and acquired information enabled her to pour forth with unparalleled profusion. An honest heathen, one of Plutarch's heroes, if I mistake not, dreamed once upon a night, that the figure of Proserpina, whom he had long worshipped, visited his slumbers with an angry and vindictive countenance, and menaced him with vengeance, in resentment of his having neglected her altars, with the usual fickleness of a polytheist, for those of some more fashionable divinity. Not that goddess of the infernal regions herself could assume a more haughty or more displeased countenance than that with which Lady Binks looked from time to time upon Lord Etherington, as if to warn him of the consequence of this departure from the allegiance which the young Earl had hitherto manifested towards her, and which seemed now, she knew not why, unless it were for the purpose of public insult, to be transferred to her "I'll be tamned, then!" said Captain MacTurk. rival. Perilous as her eye-glances were, and much as "Was I not in Tippoo's prison at Bangalore? and, they menaced, Lord Etherington felt at this moment when the joyful day of our liberation came, did we not the importance of soothing Lady Penelope to silence solemnize it with fourteen little affairs, whereof we on the subject of the invalid's confession of that mornhad been laying the foundation in our house of capti-ing, to be more pressing than that of appeasing the vity, as holy writ has it, and never went farther to indignation of Lady Binks. The former was a case settle them than the glacis of the fort? By my soul, of the most urgent necessity-the latter, if he was at you would have thought there was a smart skirmish, all anxious on the subject, inight, he perhaps thought, the firing was so close; and did not I, Captain Mac- be trusted to time. Had the ladies continued on a Turk, fight three of them myself, without moving my tolerable footing together, he might have endeavoured foot from the place I set it on?" to conciliate both. But the bitterness of their longsuppressed feud had greatly increased, now that it was probable the end of the season was to separate them, in all likelihood for ever; so that Lady Pene"A small list of casualties, after all," said the Cap-lope had no longer any motive for countenancing tain; "one killed on the spot, one died of his wounds Lady Binks, or the lady of Sir Bingo for desiring Lady two wounded severely-three ditto slightly, and Penelope's countenance. The wealth and lavish exlittle Duncan Macphail reported missing. We were pense of the one was no longer to render more illusout of practice, after such long confinement. So you trious the suit of her right honourable friend, nor was see how we manage matters in India, my dear friend." the society of Lady Penelope likely to be soon again "You are to understand," replied Touchwood, "that useful or necessary to Lady Binks. So that neither I spoke only of the heathen natives, who, heathen as were any longer desirous to suppress symptoms of they are, live in the light of their own moral reason, the mutual contempt and dislike which they had long and among whom ye shall therefore see better exam-nourished for each other; and whoever should, in ples of practical morality than among such as yourselves; who, though calling yourselves Christians, have no more knowledge of the true acceptation and meaning of your religion, than if you had left your Christianity at the Cape of Good Hope, as they say

And pray, sir what might be the result of this Christian mode of giving thanks for your deliverance?" demanded Mr. Touchwood.

this decisive hour, take part with one, had little henceforward to expect from her rival. What farther and more private reasons Lady Binks might have to resent the defection of Lord Etherington, have never come with certainty to our knowledge; but it was

"I want to know, Jones," answered Mowbray, in a different tone, perhaps, from what the damsel expected, "what your lady was just now saying about my family."

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said there had been high words between them on the -I'll swear you will-what can you have to say, that floating report that his lordship's visits to Shaws-you could not as well put off for an hour?" Castle were dictated by the wish to find a bride there. Women's wits are said to be quick in spying the surest means of avenging a real or supposed slight. After biting her pretty lips, and revolving in her mind the readiest means of vengeance, fate threw in her way young Mowbray of St. Ronan's. She looked at him, and endeavoured to fix his attention with a nod and gracious smile, such as in an ordinary mood would have instantly drawn him to her side. On receiving in answer only a vacant glance and a bow, she was led to observe him more attentively, and was induced to believe, from his wavering look, varying complexion, and unsteady step, that he had been drinking unusually deep. Still his eye was less that of an intoxicated than of a disturbed and desperate man, one whose faculties were engrossed by deep and turbid reflection, which withdrew him from the passing scene.

Do you observe how ill Mr. Mowbray looks?" said she, in a loud whisper; "I hope he has not heard what Lady Penelope was just now saying of his family?"

"Unless he hears it from you, my lady," answered Mr. Touchwood, who, upon Mowbray's entrance, had broken off his discourse with MacTurk, "I think there is little chance of his learning it from any other person."

What is the matter?" said Mowbray, sharply, addressing Chatterly and Winterblossom; but the one shrunk nervously from the question, protesting, he indeed had not been precisely attending to what had been passing among the ladies, and Winterblossom bowed out of the scrape with quiet and cautious politeness-"he really had not given particular attention to what was passing-I was negotiating with Mrs. Jones for an additional lump of sugar to my coffee.-Egad, it was so difficult a piece of diplomacy," be added, sinking his voice, "that I have an idea her ladyship calculates the West India produce by grains and pennyweights."

The innuendo, if designed to make Mowbray smile, was far from succeeding. He stepped forward, with more than usual stiffness in his air, which was never entirely free from self-consequence, and said to Lady Binks, "May I request to know of your ladyship what particular respecting my family had the honour to engage the attention of the company?"

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"I was only a listener, Mr. Mowbray," returned Lady Binks, with evident enjoyment of the rising indignation which she read in his countenance; not being queen of the night, I am not at all disposed to be answerable for the turn of the conversation."

Mowbray, in no humour to bear jesting, yet afraid to expose himself by farther inquiry in a company, so public, darted a fierce look at Lady Penelope, then in close conversation with Lord Etherington,-advanced a step or two towards them,-then, as if checking himself, turned on his heel, and left the room. A few minutes afterwards, and when certain satirical nods and winks were circulating among the assembly, a waiter slid a piece of paper into Mrs. Jones's hand, who, on looking at the contents, seemed about to leave the room.

"Jones-Jones!" exclaimed Lady Penelope, in surprise and displeasure.

"Only the key of the tea-caddie, your ladyship," answered Jones; "I will be back in an instant.'

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Jones-Jones!" again exclaimed her mistress, "here is enough"-of tea, she would have said; but Lord Etherington was so near her, that she was ashamed to complete the sentence, and had only hope in Jones's quickness of apprehension, and the prospect that she would be unable to find the key which she went in search of.

Pshaw!-was that all?" answered Mrs. Jones. What should she be saying ?-nonsense-Who minds what she says?-I am sure I never do for one." "Nay, but, my dear Jones," said Mowbray "I insist upon knowing-I must know, and I will know." "La! Mr. Mowbray, why should I make mischief? -As I live, I hear some one coming! and if you were found speaking with me here-indeed, indeed, some one is coming."

"The devil may come, if he will !" said Mowbray, "but we do not part, pretty mistress, till you tell me what I wish to know."

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Lord, sir, you frighten me!" answered Jones; "but all the room heard it as well as I-it was about Miss Mowbray-and that my lady would be shy of her company hereafter-for that she was-she was".

"For that my sister was what?" said Mowbray, fiercely, seizing her arm.

"Lord, sir, you terrify me!" said Jones, beginning to cry; at any rate, it was not I that said it-it was Lady Penelope."

"And what was it the old, adder-tongued madwoman dared to say of Clara Mowbray ?-Speak out plainly, and directly, or, by Heaven, I'll make you!"

"Hold, sir-hold, for God's sake!-you will break my arm," answered the terrified handmaiden. “I am sure I know no harm of Miss Mowbray; only, my lady spoke as if she was no better than she ought to be.-Lord, sir, there is some one listening at the door!"-and making a spring out of his grasp, she hastened back to the room in which the company were assembled.

Mowbray stood petrified at the news he had heard, ignorant alike what could be the motive for a calumny so atrocious, and uncertain what he were best do to put a stop to the scandal. To his farther confusion, he was presently convinced of the truth of Mrs. Jones's belief that they had been watched, for, as he went to the door of the apartment, he was met by Mr. Touchwood.

"What has brought you here, sir?" said Mowbray sternly.

"Hoitie toitie," answered the traveller, "why, how came you here, if you go to that, squire ?-Egad, Lady Penelope is trembling for her souchong, so I just took a step here to save her ladyship the trouble of looking after Mrs. Jones in person, which, I think, might have been a worse interruption than mine, Mr. Mowbray."

"Pshaw, sir, you talk nonsense," said Mowbray; "the tea-room is so infernally hot, that I had sat down here a moment to draw breath, when the young woman came in.'

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And you are going to run away, now the old gentleman is come in?" said Touchwood—“ Come, sir, I am more your friend than you may think."

" Sir, you are intrusive-I want nothing that you can give me," said Mowbray.

"That is a mistake," answered the senior; "for I can supply you with what most young men wantmoney and wisdom.".

"You will do well to keep both till they are wanted," said Mowbray.

"Why, so I would, squire, only that I have taken something of a fancy for your family; and they are supposed to have wanted cash and good counsel for two generations, if not for three."

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Sir," said Mowbray, angrily, "you are too old either to play the buffoon, or to get buffoon's payment."

Jones, mean while, tripped off to a sort of house- "Which is like monkey's allowance, I suppose," keeper's apartment, of which she was locum tenens said the traveller, "more kicks than halfpence-Well for the evening, for the more ready supply of what--at least I am not young enough to quarrel with boys ever might be wanted on Lady Penelope's night, as for bullying. I'll convince you, however, Mr. Mowit was called. Here she found Mr. Mowbray of St. bray, that I know some more of your affairs than what Ronan's, whom she instantly began to assail with, you give me credit for." "La! now, Mr. Mowbray, you are such another gentleman!--I am sure you will make me lose my place

"It may be," answered Mowbray, "but you will oblige me more by minding your own."

"Very like; mean time, your losses to-night to my Lord Etherington are no trifle, and no secret neíther."

"Mr. Touchwood, I desire to know where you had your information?" said Mowbray.

A matter of very little consequence compared to its truth or falsehood, Mr. Mowbray," answered the old gentleman.

"But of the last importance to me, sir," said Mowbray. "In a word, had you such information by or through means of Lord Etherington ?-Answer me this single question, and then I shall know better what to think on the subject.'

"Upon my honour," said Touchwood, "I neither had my information from Lord Etherington directly nor indirectly. I say thus much to give you satisfaction, and I now expect you will hear me with patience."

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CHAPTER XXXV.

DEBATE.

Sedet post equitem atra cura-
Still though the headlong cavalier,
O'er rough and smooth, in wild career,
Seems racing with the wind;
His sad companion,-ghastly pale,
And darksome as a widow's veil,

CARE-keeps her seat behind.-HORACE. WELL was it that night for Mowbray, that he had always piqued himself on his horses, and that the animal on which he was then mounted was as surefooted and sagacious as he was mettled and fiery. For those who observed next day the print of the hoofs on the broken and rugged track through which the creature had been driven at full speed by his furious master, might easily see, that in more than a dozen of places the horse and rider had been within a few inches of destruction. One bough of a gnarled and stunted oak-tree, which stretched across the road, seemed in particular to have opposed an almost fatal barrier to the horseman's career. In striking his head "Hem-hem-hem!" said Touchwood, hesitating. against this impediment, the force of the blow had "I am sorry your ears have served you so well-been broken in some measure by a high-crowned hat, something there was said lightly, something that can yet the violence of the shock was sufficient to shiver be easily explained, I dare say;--And now, Mr. the branch to pieces. Fortunately it was already deMowbray, let me speak a few serious words with cayed; but, even in that state, it was subject of you." astonishment to every one that no fatal damage had been sustained in so formidable an encounter. Mowbray himself was unconscious of the accident.

"Forgive me, sir," interrupted Mowbray, one farther question. I understand something was said in disparagement of my sister just as I entered the tea-room?"

"And now, Mr. Touchwood, we have no more to say to each other-good evening to you."

He brushed past the old man, who in vain endeavoured to stop him, and hurrying to the stable, demanded his horse. It was ready saddled, and waited his orders; but even the short time that was necessary to bring it to the door of the stable was exasperating to Mowbray's impatience. Not less exasperating was the constant interceding voice of Touchwood, who, in tones alternately plaintive and snappish, kept on a string of expostulations.

"Mr. Mowbray, only five words with you-Mr. Mowbray, you will repent this-Is this a night to ride in, Mr. Mowbray ?-My stars, sir, if you would but have five minutes' patience!""

Curses, not loud but deep, muttered in the throat of the impatient laird, were the only reply, until his horse was brought out, when, staying no farther question, he sprung into the saddle. The poor horse paid for the delay, which could not be laid to his charge. Mowbray struck him hard with his spurs so soon as he was in his seat-the noble animal reared, bolted, and sprung forward like a deer, over stock and stone, the nearest road-and we are aware it was a rough one-to Shaws-Castle. There is a sort of instinct by which horses perceive the humour of their riders, and are furious and impetuous, or dull and sluggish, as if to correspond with it; and Mowbray's gallant steed seemed on this occasion to feel all the stings of his master's internal ferment, although not again urged with the spur. The ostler stood listening to the clash of the hoofs, succeeding each other in thick and close gallop until they died away in the distant woodland.

"If St. Ronan's reach home this night, with his neck unbroken," muttered the fellow, "the devil must have it in keeping.'

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Mercy on us!" said the traveller, "he rides like a Bedouin Arab! but in the desert there are neither trees to cross the road, nor cleughs, nor linns, nor floods, nor fords. Well, I must set to work myself, or this gear will get worse than even I can mend.Here you, ostler, let me have your best pair of horses instantly to Shaws-Castle."

"To Shaws-Castle, sir ?" said the man with some surprise.

Yes-do you not know such a place?" "In troth, sir, sae few company go there, except on the great ball day, that we have had time to forget the road to it-but St. Ronan's was here even now, sir."

'Ay, what of that ?-he has ridden on to

per ready-so, turn out without loss of time set sup

Scarcely aware that he had been riding at an unusual rate, scarce sensible that he had ridden faster perhaps than ever he followed the hounds, Mowbray alighted at his stable door, and flung the bridle to his groom, who held up his hands in astonishment when he beheld the condition of the favourite horse; but, concluding that his master must be intoxicated, he prudently forbore to make any observations.

No sooner did the unfortunate traveller suspend that rapid motion by which he seemed to wish to annihilate, as far as possible, time and space, in order to reach the place he had now attained, than it seemed to him as if he would have given the world that seas and deserts had lain between him and the house of his fathers, as well as that only sister with whom he was now about to have a decisive interview.

"But the place and the hour are arrived," he said, biting his lip with anguish; "this explanation must be decisive; and whatever evils may attend it, suspense must be ended now, at once and for ever."

He entered the Castle, and took the light from the old domestic, who, hearing the clatter of his horse's feet, had opened the door to receive him.

Is my sister in her parlour?" he asked, but in so hollow a voice, that the old man only answered the question by another, "Was his honour well?"

"Quite well, Patrick-never better in my life," said Mowbray; and turning his back on the old man, as if to prevent his observing whether his countenance and his words corresponded, he pursued his way to his sister's apartment. The sound of his step upon the passage roused Clara from a reverie, perhaps a sad one; and she had trimmed her lamp, and stirred her fire, so slow did he walk, before he at length entered her apartment.

"You are a good boy brother," she said, "to come thus early home; and I have some good news for your reward. The groom has fetched back Trimmer

He was lying by the dead hare, and he had chased him as far as Drumlyford-the shepherd had carried him to the shieling, till some one should claim him."

"I would he had hanged him, with all my heart!" said Mowbray.

"How!-hang Trimmer?-your favourite Trimmer, that has beat the whole country?—and it was only this morning you were half-crying because he was a-missing, and like to murder man and mother's son ?"

"The better I like any living thing," answered Mowbray, "the more reason I have for wishing it 66 At your pleasure, sir," said the fellow, and called dead and at rest; for neither I, nor any thing that I to the postilion accordingly.

love, will ever be happy more.'

"You cannot frighten me, John, with these flights," answered Clara, trembling, although she endeavoured to look unconcerned-"You have used me to them too often."

"It is well for you then; you will be ruined without the shock of surprise."

"So much the better-We have been," said Clara,

"So constantly in poortith's sight,

The thoughts on't gie us little fright.'

So say I with honest Robert Burns."

"D-n Burns and his trash!" said Mowbray, with the impatience of a man determined to be angry with every thing but himself, who was the real source of the evil.

"And why damn poor Burns?" said Clara composedly; "it is not his fault if you have not risen a winner, for that, I suppose, is the cause of all this uproar.'

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"Would it not make any one lose patience," said Mowbray, to hear her quoting the rhapsodies of a hobnail'd peasant, when a man is speaking of the downfall of an ancient house! your ploughman, I suppose, becoming one degree poorer than he was born to be, would only go without his dinner, or without his usual potation of ale. His comrades would cry 'poor fellow and let him eat out of their kit, and drink out of their bicker without scruple, till his own was full again. But the poor gentleman-the downfallen man of rank-the degraded man of birth-the disabled and disarmed man of power!-it is he that is to be pitied, who loses not merely drink and dinner, but honour, situation, credit, character, and name itself!"

"You are declaiming in this manner in order to terrify me," said Clara: "but, friend John, I know you and your ways, and I have made up my mind upon all contingences that can take place. I will tell you more I have stood on this tottering pinnacle of rank and fashion, if our situation can be termed such, till my head is dizzy with the instability of my eminence; and I feel that strange desire of tossing myself down, which the devil is said to put into folk's heads when they stand on the top of steeples-at least, I had rather the plunge were over."

"My dear John, you have drunk hard-rode hard." "Yes-such tidings deserved to be carried express, especially to a young lady who receives them so well, answered Mowbray bitterly. "I suppose, now, it will make no impression, if I were to tell you that you have it in your power to stop all this ruin?"

"By consummating my own, I suppose ?-Brother, I said you could not make me tremble, but you have found a way to do it."

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What, you expect I am again to urge you with Lord Etherington's courtship?-That might have saved all, indeed-But that day of grace is over."

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"I am glad of it, with all my spirit," said Clara; may it take with it all that we can quarrel about!But till this instant I thought it was for this very point that this long voyage was bound, and that you were endeavouring to persuade me of the reality of the danger of the storm, in order to reconcile me to the harbour."

"You are mad, I think, in earnest," said Mowbray; can you really be so absurd as to rejoice that you have no way left to relieve yourself and me from ruin, want, and shame?"

"From shame, brother?" said Clara. "No shame in honest poverty, I hope."

"That is according as folks have used their prosperity, Clara.-I must speak to the point.-There are strange reports going below-By Heaven! they are enough to disturb the ashes of the dead! Were I to mention them, I should expect our poor mother to enter the room-Clara Mowbray, can you guess what I mean?"

It was with the utmost exertion, yet in a faltering voice, that she was able, after an ineffectual effort, to utter the monosyllable, "No!"

"By Heaven! I am ashamed-I am even afraid to express my own meaning!-Clara, what is there which makes you so obstinately reject every proposal of marriage?-Is it that you feel yourself unworthy to be the wife of an honest man?-Speak out!-Evil Fame has been busy with your reputation-speak out!-Give me the right to cram their lies down the throats of the inventors, and when I go among them to-morrow, I shall know how to treat those who cast reflections on you! The fortunes of our house are "Be satisfied, then; if that will satisfy you-the ruined, but no tongue shall slander its honour.-Speak plunge is over, and we are-what they used to call it-speak, wretched girl! why are you silent?" in Scotland-gentle beggars-creatures to whom our second, and third, and fourth, and fifth cousins may, if they please, give a place at the side-table, and a seat in the carriage with the lady's maid, if driving backwards will not make us sick."

"They may give it to those who will take it," said Clara; "but I am determined to eat bread of my own buying-I can do twenty things, and I am sure some one or other of them will bring me all the little money I will need. I have been trying, John, for several months, how little I can live upon, and you would laugh if you heard how low I have brought the ac

count."

"There is a difference, Clara, between fanciful experiments and real poverty-the one is a masquerade, which we can end when we please, the other is wretchedness for life."

Methinks, brother," replied Miss Mowbray, "it would be better for you to set me an example how to carry my good resolutions into effect, than to ridicule them."

"Why, what would you have me do?" said he, fiercely-"turn postilion, or rough-rider, or whipperin?-I don't know any thing else that my education, as I have used it, has fitted me for-and then some of my old acquaintances would, I dare say, give me a crown to drink now and then for old acquaintance' sake."

"This is not the way, John, that men of sense think or speak of serious misfortunes," answered his sister; "and I do not believe that this is so serious as it is your pleasure to make it."

"Believe the very worst you can think," replied he, "and you will not believe bad enough!-You have neither a guinea, nor a house, nor a friend;-pass but a day, and it is a chance that you will not have a brother."

Stay at home, brother!" said Clara; “stay at home, if you regard our house's honour-murder cannot mend misery-Stay at home, and let them talk of me as they will,-they can scarcely say worse of me than I deserve!"

The passions of Mowbray, at all times ungovernably strong, were at present inflamed by wine, by his rapid journey, and the previously disturbed state of his mind. He set his teeth, clenched his hands, looked on the ground, as one that forms some horrid resolution, and muttered almost unintelligibly, “It were charity to kill her!"

"Oh! no-no-no!" exclaimed the terrified girl, throwing herself at his feet; "Do not kill me, brother! I have wished for death-thought of death-prayed for death-but, oh! it is frightful to think that he is near-Oh! not a bloody death, brother, nor by your hand!"

She held him close by the knees as she spoke, and expressed in her looks and accents, the utmost terror. It was not, indeed, without reason; for the extreme solitude of the place, the violent and inflamed passions of her brother, and the desperate circumstances to which he had reduced himself, seemed all to concur to render some horrid act of violence not an improbable termination of this strange interview.

Mowbray folded his arms, without unclenching his hands, or raising his head, while his sister continued on the floor, clasping him round the knees with all her strength, and begging piteously for her life and for mercy.

"Fool!" he said, at last, "let me go!-Who cares for thy worthless life?-who cares if thou live or die? Live, if thou canst-and be the hate and scorn of every one else, as much as thou art mine!"

He grasped her by the shoulder, with one hand pushed her from him, and, as she arose from the floor,

and again pressed to throw her arms around his neck, he repulsed her with his arm and hand, with a pushor blow-it might be termed either one or the other,violent enough in her weak state, to have again extended her on the ground, had not a chair received her as she fell. He looked at her with ferocity, grappled a moment in his pocket; then ran to the window, and throwing the sash violently up, thrust himself as far as he could without falling, into the open air. Terrified, and yet her feelings of his unkindness predominating even above her fears, Clara continued to exclaim,

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"You do worse-you do worse by me! A slave in an open market may be bought by a kind master-you do not give me that chance-you wed me to one who".

"Fear him not, nor the worst that he can do, Clara," said her brother. "I know on what terms he marries; and being once more your brother, as your obedience in this matter will make me, he had better tear his flesh from his bones with his own teeth, than do thee any displeasure! By Heaven, I hate him so much-for he has outreached me every way-that methinks it is some consolation that he will not receive in thee the excellent creature I thought thee!-Fallen as thou art, thou art still too good for him."

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Let him utter such a scruple if he dares," said Mowbray-"But he dares not hesitate-he knows that the instant he recedes from addressing you, he signs his own death-warrant or mine, or perhaps that of both; and his views, too, are of a kind that will not be relinquished on a point of scrupulous delicacy merely. Therefore, Clara, nourish no such thought in your heart as that there is the least possibility of your escaping this marriage! The match is bookedSwear you will not hesitate."

"I will not," she said, almost breathlessly, terrified lest he was about to start once more into the fit of unbridled fury which had before seized on him.

"Do not even whisper or hint an objection, but submit to your fate, for it is inevitable."

'Oh, brother, say you did not mean this!-Oh, say you did not mean to strike me!-Oh, whatever I have deserved, be not you the executioner! It is not manly- Encouraged by the more gentle and almost affecit is not natural-there are but two of us in the world!" tionate tone in which her brother spoke, Clara could He returned no answer; and, observing that he not help saying, although almost in a whisper, "I continued to stretch himself from the window, which trust it will not be so-I trust he will consider his own was in the second story of the building, and over-condition, honour, and happiness, better than to share looked the court, a new cause of apprehension mingled, it with me.' in some measure, with her personal fears. Timidly, and with streaming eyes and uplifted hands, she approached her angry brother, and fearfully, yet firmly, seized the skirt of his coat, as if anxious to preserve him from the effects of that despair, which so lately seemed turned against her, and now against himself. He felt the pressure of her hold, and drawing himself angrily back, asked her sternly what she wanted. Nothing," she said, quitting her hold of his coat; "but what-what did he look after so anxiously?" After the devil!" he answered, fiercely; then drawing in his head, and taking her hand, By my soul, Clara-it is true, if ever there was truth in such a tale! He stood by me just now, and urged me to murder thee!-What else could have put my huntingknife into my thought ?-Ay, by God, and into my very hand-at such a moment ?-Yonder I could almost fancy I see him fly, the wood, and the rock, and the water, gleaming back the dark-red furnacelight, that is shed on them by his dragon wings! By my soul, I can hardly suppose it fancy-I can hardly think but that I was under the influence of an evil spirit-under an act of fiendish possession! But gone as he is, gone let him be-and thou, too ready implement of evil, be thou gone after him! He drew from his pocket his right hand, which had all this time held his hunting-knife, and threw the implement into the court-yard as he spoke; then with a sad quietness and solemnity of manner, shut the window, and led his sister by the hand to her usual seat, which her tottering steps scarce enabled her to reach. "Clara," he said, after a pause of mournful silence, we must think what is to be done, without passion or violence-there may be something for us in the dice yet, if we do not throw away our game. A blot is never a blot till it is hit-dishonour concealed, is not dishonour in some respects.-Dost thou attend to me, wretched girl?" he said, suddenly and sternly raising his voice.

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"Yes, brother-yes, indeed, brother!" she hastily replied, terrified even by delay again to awaken his ferocious and ungovernable temper.

"Thus it must be, then," he said. "You must marry this Etherington-there is no help for it, Clara You cannot complain of what your own vice and folly have rendered inevitable."

"But, brotner!"-said the trembling girl. "Be silent. I know all that you would say. You love him not, you would say. I love him not, no more than you. Nay, what is more, he loves you not; if he did, I might scruple to give you to him, you being such as you have owned yourself. But you shall wed him out of hate, Clara-or for the interest of your family-or for what reason you will-But wed him you shall and must."

Brother-dearest brother-one single word!" "Not of refusal or expostulation-that time is gone by," said her stern censurer. "When I believed thee what I thought thee this morning, I might advise you, but I could not compel. But, since the honour of our family has been disgraced by your means, it is but just, that, if possible, its disgrace should be hidden; and it shall!-ay, if selling you for a slave would tend Lo conceal it!"

VOL. IV.-3 U

"I will-submit"--answered Clara, in the same trembling accent.

"And I," he said, "will spare you--at least at present-and it may be for ever-all inquiry into the guilt which you have confessed. Rumours there were of misconduct, which reached my ears even in England; but who could have believed them that looked on you daily, and witnessed your late course of life? On this subject I will be at present silent-perhaps may not again touch on it-that is, if you do nothing to thwart my pleasure, or to avoid the fate which circumstances render unavoidable. And now it is late-retire, Clara, to your bed-think on what I have said as what necessity has determined, and not my selfish pleasure."

He held out his hand, and she placed, but not without reluctant terror, her trembling palm in his. In this manner, and with a sort of mournful solemnity, as if they had been in attendance upon a funeral, he handed his sister through a gallery hung with old family pictures, at the end of which was Clara's bedchamber. The moon, which at this moment looked out through a huge volume of mustering clouds that had long been boding storm, fell on the two last descendants of that ancient family, as they glided hand in hand, more like the ghosts of the deceased than like living persons, through the hall and amongst the portraits of their forefathers. The same thoughts were in the breast of both, but neither attempted to say, while they cast a flitting glance on the pallid and decayed representations, "How little did these anticipate this catastrophe of their house!" At the door of the bedroom Mowbray quitted his sister's hand, and said, "Clara, you should to-night thank God, that saved you from a great danger, and me from a deadly sin.'

"I will," she answered-"I will." And, as if her terror had been anew excited by this allusion to what had passed, she bid her brother hastily good night, and was no sooner within her apartment, than he heard her turn the key in the lock, and draw two bolts besides.

"I understand you, Clara," muttered Mowbray between his teeth, as he heard one bar drawn after another. "But if you could earth yourself under Ben Nevis, you could not escape what fate has destined for you.-Yes!" he said to himself, as he walked with slow and moody pace through the moonlight gallery, uncertain whether to return to the parlour, or to retire to his solitary chamber, when his attention was roused by a noise in the court-yard.

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