elbow-chair, in which he had left him five hours before. His sudden entrance recalled to Mr. Cargill, not an accurate, but something of a general recollection, of what had passed in the morning, and he hastened to apologize with "Ha!-indeed-already?— upon my word, Mr. A-a-, I mean my dear friendI am afraid I have used you ill-I forgot to order any dinner-but we will do our best.-Eppie-Eppie!" Not at the first, second, nor third call, but er interIf you have really been in the Holy Land, sir," said vallo, as the lawyers express it, Eppie, a bare-legged, Mr. Cargill, whom the reckless gayety of Touch-shock-headed, thick-ankled, red-armed wench, enterwood's manner rendered somewhat suspicious of a ed, and announced her presence by an emphatic trick, "you will be able materially to enlighten me on "What's your wull ?" the subject of the Crusades."

Mr. Touchwood scorned to listen to such an insinuation until the fated hour arrived, and brought with it no Mr. Cargill, The impatient entertainer allowed five minutes for difference of clocks, and variation of time, and other five for the procrastination of one who went little into society. But no sooner were the last five minutes expended, than he darted off for the Manse, not, indeed, much like a greyhound or a deer, but with the momentum of a corpulent and well-ap-bookish. petized elderly gentleman, who is in haste to secure his dinner. He bounced without ceremony into the parlour, where he found the worthy divine clothed in the same plaid night-gown, and seated in the very

gentleman of rank, and of which, while he mingled with the world, he had become a competent judge. Neither did it escape him, that in the catalogue of Mr. Touchwood's defects, occurred that of many travellers, a slight disposition to exaggerate his own personal adventures, and to prose concerning his own exploits. But then, his acquaintance with Eastern manners, existing now in the same state in which they were found during the time of the Crusades, formed a living commentary on the works of William of Tyre, Raymund of Saint Giles, the Moslem annals of Abulfaragi, and other historians of the dark period, with which his studies were at present occupied.

"Pshaw, man, you are back into the 14th centuryI mean these Mowbrays of St. Ronan's-now, don't fall asleep again until you have answered my question-and don't look so like a startled hare-I am speaking no treason.'

"

The clergyman floundered a moment, as is usual with an absent man who is recovering the train of his ideas, or a somnambulist when he is suddenly awakened, and then answered, still with hesitation,"Mowbray of St. Ronan's?-ha-eh-I know-that is-I did know the family."

"Here they are going to give a masquerade, a bal paré, private theatricals, I think, and what not,' handing him the card.

"I saw something of this a fortnight ago," said Mr. Cargill; "indeed, I either had a ticket myself, or I saw such a one as that."

Are you sure you did not attend the party, Doctor?" said the Nabob.

"Who attend? I? you are jesting, Mr. Touchwood."

A friendship, a companionship at least, was therefore struck up hastily betwixt these two originals; and to the astonishment of the whole parish of St. Ronan's, the minister thereof was seen once more leagued and united with an individual of his species, generally called among them the Cleikum Nabob. Their intercourse sometimes consisted in long walks, which they took in company, traversing, however, as limited a space of ground, as if it had been actually roped in for their pedestrian exercise. Their parade was, according to circumstances, a low haugh at the nether end of the ruinous hamlet, or the esplanade in the front of the old castle; and, in either case, the direct longitude of their promenade never exceeded a "Positive!" he repeated with embarrassment; "my hundred yards. Sometimes, but rarely, the divine took memory is so wretched that I never like to be positive share of Mr. Touchwood's meal, though less splen--but had I done any thing so far out of my usual didly set forth than when he was first invited to partake of it; for, like the owner of the gold cup in Parnell's Hermit, when cured of his ostentation,

"Still he welcomed, but with less of cost."

On these occasions, the conversation was not of the regular and compacted nature, which passes betwixt men, as they are ordinarily termed, of this world. On the contrary, the one party was often thinking of Saladin and Coeur de Lion, when the other was haranguing on Hyder Ali and Sir Eyre Coote. Still, however, the one spoke, and the other seemed to listen; and, perhaps, the lighter intercourse of society, where amusement is the sole object, can scarcely rest on a safer and more secure basis.

It was on one of the evenings when the learned divine had taken his place at Mr. Touchwood's social board, or rather at Mrs. Dods's.-for a cup of excellent tea, the only luxury which Mr. Cargill continued to partake of with some complacence, was the regale before them, that a card was delivered to the Nabob. "Mr. and Miss Mowbray see company at ShawsCastle on the twentieth current, at two o'clock-a déjeuner dresses in character admitted-A dramatic picture."-"See company? the more fools they," he continued by way of comment. "See company? choice phrases are ever commendable-and this piece of pasteboard is to intimate that one may go and meet all the fools of the parish, if they have a mind-in my time they asked the honour, or the pleasure, of a stranger's company. I suppose, by and by, we shall have in this country the ceremonial of a Bedouin's tent, where every ragged Hadgi, with his green turban, comes in slap without leave asked, and has his black paw among the rice, with no other apology than Salam Alicum.-'Dresses in character-Dramatic picture'-what new tomfoolery can that be?-but it does not signify.-Doctor! I say Doctor!-but he is in the seventh heaven-I say, Mother Dods, you who know all the news-Is this the feast that was put off until Miss Mowbray should be better?"

"Troth is it, Maister Touchwood-they are no in the way of giving twa entertainments in one season-no very wise to gie ane maybe-but they ken best."

"But are you quite positive?" demanded Mr. Touchwood, who had observed, to his infinite amusement, that the learned and abstracted scholar was so conscious of his own peculiarities, as never to be very sure on any such subject.

way, I must have remembered it, one would thinkand I am positive I was not there."

"Neither could you, Doctor," said the Nabob, laughing at the process by which his friend reasoned himself into confidence, for it did not take place-it was adjourned, and this is the second invitationthere will be one for you, as you had a card to the former.-Come, Doctor, you must go you and I will go together-I as an Imaun-I can say my Bismillah with any Hadgi of them all-You as a cardinal, or what you like best."

Who, I?-it is unbecoming my station, Mr. Touchwood," said the clergyman-"a folly altogether inconsistent with my habits."

"All the better-you shall change your habits."

You had better gang up and see them, Mr. Cargill," said Mrs. Dods; for it's maybe the last sight ye may see of Miss Mowbray-they say she is to be married and off to England ane of thae odd-comeshortlies, wi' some of the gowks about the Waal down-by."

"Married!" said the clergyman; "it is impossible!" "But where's the impossibility, Mr. Cargill, when ye see folk marry every day, and buckle them yoursell into the bargain ?-Maybe ye think the puir lassie has a bee in her bonnet; but ye ken yoursell if naebody but wise folk were to marry, the warld wad be ill peopled. I think it's the wise folk that keep single, like yourself and me, Mr. Cargill.-Gude guide us!are ye weel ?-will you taste a drap o' something?", Sniff at my ottar of roses," said Mr. Touchwood; "the scent would revive the dead-why, what in the devil's name is the meaning of this?-you were quite well just now."

"A sudden qualm," said Mr. Cargill, recovering himself.

"Oh! Mr. Cargill," said Dame Dods, "this comes of your lang fasts."

"Right, dame," subjoined Mr. Touchwood; "and of breaking them with sour milk and pease bannockthe least morsel of Christian food is rejected by the stomach, just as a small gentleman refuses the visit of a creditable neighbour, lest he see the nakedness of the land-ha! ha!"

"And there is really a talk of Miss Mowbray of St.

"I say, Doctor, Doctor!-Bless his five wits, he is charging the Moslemah, with stout King Richard-Ronan's being married?" said the clergyman. I say, Doctor, do you know any thing of these Mowbrays?"

"Nothing extremely particular," answered Mr. Cargill, after a pause; "it is an ordinary tale of greatness, which blazes in one century, and is extinguished in the next. I think Camden says, that Thomas Mowbray, who was Grand-Marshal of England, succeeded to that high office, as well as to the Dukedom of Norfolk, as grandson of Roger Bigot, in 1301."

"Troth is there," said the dame; "it's Trotting Nelly's news; and though she likes a drappie, I dinna think she would invent a lee or carry ane at least to me, that am a gude customer.'

"This must be looked to," said Mr. Cargill, as if speaking to himself.

"In troth, and so it should," said Dame Dods; "it's a sin and a shame if they should employ the tinkling cymbal they ca' Chatterly, and sic a Presbyterian

trumpet as yourself in the land, Mr. Cargill; and if | in the known world. In short, the love of Alpheus ye will take a fule's advice, ye winna let the multure be ta'en by your ain mill, Mr. Cargill."

"True, true, good Mother Dods," said the Nabob; "gloves and hatbands are things to be looked after, and Mr. Cargill had better go down to this cursed festivity with me, in order to see after his own interest."

"I must speak with the young lady," said the clergyman, still in a brown study.

Right, right, my boy of black-letter," said the Nabob; with me you shall go, and we'll bring them to submission to mother-church, I warrant youWhy, the idea of being cheated in such a way, would scare a Santon out of his trance.-What dress will you wear?"

"My own, to be sure," said the divine, starting from his reverie.

"True, thou art right again-they may want to knit the knot on the spot, and who would be married by a parson in masquerade?-We go to the entertainment though it is a done thing."

The clergyman assented, provided he should receive an invitation; and as that was found at the Manse, he had no excuse for retracting, even if he had seemed to desire one.

CHAPTER XVIII.

FORTUNE'S FROLICS.

for Arethusa was a mere jest, compared to that which the Doctor entertained for his favourite fountain.

The new and noble guest, whose arrival so much illustrated these scenes of convalescence and of gayety, was not at first seen so much at the ordinary, and other places of public resort, as had been the hope of the worthy company assembled. His health and his wound proved an excuse for making his visits to the society few and far between.

But when he did appear, his manners and person were infinitely captivating; and even the carnationcoloured silk handkerchief, which suspended his wounded arm, together with the paleness and languor which loss of blood had left on his handsome and open countenance, gave a grace to the whole person which many of the ladies declared irresistible. All contended for his notice, attracted at once by his affability, and piqued by the calm and easy noncha lance with which it seemed to be blended. The scheming and selfish Mowbray, the coarse-minded and brutal Sir Bingo, accustomed to consider themselves, and to be considered, as the first men of the party, sunk into comparative insignificance. But chiefly Lady Penelope threw out the captivations of her wit and her literature; while Lady Binks, trusting to her natural charms, endeavoured equally to attract his notice. The other nymphs of the Spa held a little back, upon the principle of that politeness, which, at continental hunting parties, affords the first shot at a fine piece of game, to the person of the highest rank bosom, that their ladyships might miss their aim, in spite of the advantages thus allowed them, and that there might then be room for less exalted, but perhaps not less skilful, markswomen, to try their chance.

Count Basset. We gentleman, whose carriages run on the four present; but the thought throbbed in many a fair

accs, are apt to have a wheel out of order.

The Provoked Husband.

OUR history must now look a little backwards; and although it is rather foreign to our natural style of composition, it must speak more in narrative, and less in dialogue, rather telling what happened, than its effects upon the actors. Our purpose, however, is only conditional, for we foresee temptations which may render it difficult for us exactly to keep it.

The arrival of the young Earl of Etherington at the alutiferous fountain of St. Ronan's had produced the strongest sensation; especially, as it was joined with the singular accident of the attempt upon his lordship's person, as he took a short cut through the woods on foot, at a distance from his equipage and servants. The gallantry with which he beat off the highwayman, was only equal to his generosity; for he declined making any researches after the poor devil, although his lordship had received a severe wound in the scuffle.

Of the "three black Graces," as they have been termed by one of the most pleasant companions of our time, Law and Physic hastened to do homage to Lord Etherington, represented by Mr. Meiklewham and Dr. Quackleben; while Divinity, as favourable, though more coy, in the person of the Reverend Mr. Simon Chatterly, stood on tiptoe to offer any service in her power.

For the honourable reason already assigned, his lordship, after thanking Mr. Meiklewham, and hinting, that he might have different occasion for his services, declined his offer to search out the delinquent by whom he had been wounded; while to the care of the Doctor he subjected the cure of a smart flesh-wound in the arm, together with a slight scratch on the temple; and so very genteel was his behaviour on the occasion, that the Doctor, in his anxiety for his safety, enjoined him a month's course of the waters, if he would enjoy the comfort of a complete and perfect recovery. Nothing so frequent, he could assure his lordship, as the opening of cicatrized wounds; and the waters of St. Ronan's Spring being, according to Dr. Quackleben, a remedy for all the troubles which flesh is heir to, could not fail to equal those of Barege, in facilitating the discharge of all splinters or extraneous matter, which a bullet may chance to incorporate with the human frame, to its great annoyance. For he was wont to say, that although he could not declare the waters which he patronised to be an absolute panpharmacon, yet he would with word and pen maintain, that they possessed the principal virtues of the most celebrated medicinal springs

But while the Earl thus withdrew from public society, it was necessary, at least natural, that he should choose some one with whom to share the solitude of his own apartment; and Mowbray, superior in rank to the half-pay whisky-drinking Captain MacTurk; in dash to Winterblossom, who was broken down, and turned twaddler; and in tact and sense to Sir Bingo Binks, easily manoeuvred himself into his lordship's more intimate society; and internally thanking the honest footpad, whose bullet had been the indirect means of secluding his intended victim from all society but his own, he gradually began to feel the way, and prove the strength of his antagonist, at the various games of skill and hazard which he introduced, apparently with the sole purpose of relieving the tedium of a sick-chamber.

Meiklewham, who felt, or affected, the greatest possible interest in his patron's success, and who watched every opportunity to inquire how his schemes advanced, received at first such favourable accounts as made him grin from ear to ear, rub his hands, and chuckle forth such bursts of glee as only the success of triumphant roguery could have extorted from him. Mowbray looked grave, however, and checked his mirth.

"There was something in it, after all," he said "that he could not perfectly understand. Ethering; ton, a used hand-d-d sharp-up to every thing, and yet he lost his money like a baby."

"And what the matter how he loses it, so you win it like a man ?" said his legal friend and adviser.

"Why, hang it, I cannot tell," replied Mowbray"were it not that I think he has scarce the impu dence to propose such a thing to succeed, curse me but I should think he was coming the old soldier over me, and keeping up his game.-But no-he can scarce have the impudence to think of that-I find, however, that he has done Wolverine-cleaned out poor Tom-though Tom wrote to me the precise contrary, yet the truth has since come out-Well, I shall avenge him, for I see his lordship is to be had as well as other folk."

Weel, Mr. Mowbray," said the lawyer, in a tone of affected sympathy, ye ken your own ways best but the heavens will bless a moderate mind. I would not like to see you ruin this poor lad, funditus, that is to say, out and out. To lose some of the ready will do him no great harm, and maybe give

him a lesson he may be the better of as long as he lives-but I wad not, as an honest man, wish you to go deeper-you should spare the lad, Mr. Mowbray." "Who spared me, Meiklewham?" said Mowbray, with a look and tone of deep emphasis-"No, nohe must go through the mill-money and money's worth. His seat is called Oakendale-think of that, Mick-Oakendale! Oh, name of thrice happy augury!-Speak not of mercy, Mick-the squirrels of Oakendale must be dismounted, and learn to go a-foot.-What mercy can the wandering lord of Troy expect among the Greeks?-The Greeks!-I am a very Suliote-the bravest of Greeks.

'I think not of pity, I think not of fear,

He neither must know who would serve the Vizier.'

And necessity, Mick," he concluded, with a tone something altered, "necessity is as unrelenting a leader as any Vizier or Pacha, whom Scanderbeg ever fought with, or Byron has sung.'

Meiklewham echoed his patron's ejaculation with a sound betwixt e whine, a chuckle, and a groan; the first being designed to express his pretended pity for the destined victim; the second his sympathy with his patrons's prospects of success; and the third being a whistle admonitory of the dangerous courses through which his object was to be pursued.

Suliote as he boasted himself, Mowbray had soon after this conversation, some reason to admit that,

"When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war." The light skirmishing betwixt the parties was ended, and the serious battle commenced with some caution on either side; each perhaps desirous of being master of his opponent's system of tactics, before exposing his own. Piquet, the most beautiful game at which a man can make sacrifice of his fortune, was one with which Mowbray had, for his misfortune perhaps, been accounted, from an early age, a great proficient, and in which the Earl of Etherington, with less experience, proved no novice. They now played for such stakes as Mowbray's state of fortune rendered considerable to him, though his antagonist appeared not to regard the amount. And they played with various success; for, though Mowbray at times returned with a smile of confidence the inquiring looks of his friend Meiklewham, there were other occasions on which he seemed to evade them, as if his own had a sad confession to make in reply.

his lordship for this bout-doubled my capital, Mick, and something more.-Hush, don't interrupt me-we must think of Clara now-she must share the sunshine, should it prove but a blink before a storm.You know, Mick, these two d-d women, Lady Penelope and the Binks, have settled that they will have something like a bal paré on this occasion, a sort of theatrical exhibition, and that those who like it shall be dressed in character.-I know their meaning-they think Clara has no dress fit for such foolery, and so they hope to eclipse her; Lady Pen, with her oldfashioned, ill-set diamonds, and my Lady Binks, with the new-fashioned finery which she swopt her character for. But Clara shan't be borne down so, by! I got that affected slut, Lady Binks's maid, to tell me what her mistress had set her mind on, and she is to wear a Grecian habit, forsooth, like one of Will Allan's Eastern subjects.-But here's the rub there is only one shawl for sale in Edinburgh that is worth showing off in, and that is at the Gallery of Fashion.-Now, Mick, my friend, that shawl must be had for Clara, with the other trankums of muslin and lace, and so forth, which you will find marked in the paper there.-Send instantly and secure it, for, as Lady Binks writes by to-morrow's post your order can go by to-night's mail-There is a note for L.100." From a mechanical habit of never refusing any thing, Meiklewham readily took the note, but having looked at it through his spectacles, he continued to hold it in his hand as he remonstrated with his patron." This is a' very kindly meant, St. Ronan'svery kindly meant; and I wad be the last to say that Miss Clara does not merit respect and kindness at your hand; but I doubt mickle if she wad care a bodle for thae braw things. Ye ken yoursell, she seldom alters her fashions. Od, she thinks her riding-habit dress enough for ony company; and if you were ganging by good looks, so it is-if she had a thought mair colour, poor dear.'

"Well, well," said Mowbray, impatiently," let me alone to reconcile a woman and a fine dress."

"To be sure, ye ken best," said the writer; "but after a,' now, wad it no be better to lay by this hundred pound in Tam Turnpenny's, in case the young lady should want it afterhend, just for a sair foot?"

"You are a fool, Mick; what signifies healing a sore foot, when there will be a broken heart in the case?-No, no-get the things as I desire you-we will blaze them down for one day at least; perhaps it will be the beginning of a proper dash."

Weel, weel, I wish it may be so," answered Meiklewham; but this young Earl-hae ye found the weak point?-Can ye get a decerniture against him, with expenses?-that is the question."

These alterations, though frequent, did not occupy, after all, many days; for Mowbray, a friend of all hours, spent much of his time in Lord Etherington's apartment, and these few days were days of battle. In the mean time, as his lordship was now sufficiently recovered to join the party at Shaws-Castle, and Miss "I wish I could answer it," said Mowbray, thoughtMowbray's health being announced as restored, that fully.-"Confound the fellow-he is a cut above me proposal was renewed, with the addition of a dra- in rank and in society too-belongs to the great matic entertainment, the nature of which we shall clubs, and is in with the Superlatives and Inaccessiafterwards have occasion to explain. Cards were bles, and all that sort of folk.-My training has been anew issued to all those who had been formerly inclu- a peg lower-but, hang it, there are better dogs bred ded in the invitation, and of course to Mr. Touch- in the kennel than in the parlour. I am up to him, I wood, as formerly a resident at the Well, and now in think-at least I will soon know, Mick, whether I the neighbourhood; it being previously agreed among am or no, and that is always one comfort. Never the ladies, that a Nabob, though sometimes a dingy mind-do you execute my commission, and take care or damaged commodity, was not to be rashly or un-you name no names-I must save my little Abigail's necessarily neglected. As to the parson, he had been asked, of course, as an old acquaintance of the Mowbray house, not to be left out when the friends of the family were invited on a great scale; but his habits were well known, and it was no more expected that he would leave his manse on such an occasion, than that the kirk should loosen itself from its foundations. It was after these arrangements had been made, that the Laird of St. Ronan's suddenly entered Meiklewham's private apartment with looks of exultation. The worthy scribe turned his spectacled nose towards his patron, and holding in one hand the bunch of papers which he had been just perusing, and in the other the tape with which he was about to tie them up again, suspended that operation to await with open eyes and ears the communication of Mowbray.

"I have done him!" he said, exultingly, yet in a tone of voice lowered almost to a whisper; "capotted Vol. IV 3 N

reputation.'

They parted, Meiklewham to execute his patron's commission-his patron to bring to the test those hopes, the uncertainty of which he could not disguise from his own sagacity.

Trusting to the continuance of his run of luck, Mowbray resolved to bring affairs to a crisis that same evening. Every thing seemed in the outset to favour his purpose. They had dined together in Lord Etherington's apartments-his state of health interfered with the circulation of the bottle, and a drizzly autumnal evening rendered walking disagreeable, even had they gone no farther than the private stable where Lord Etherington's horses were kept, under the care of a groom of superior skill. Cards were naturally, almost necessarily, resorted to, as the only alternative for helping away the evening, and piquet was, as formerly, chosen for the game.

Lord Etherington seemed at first indolently care

"And thus your friend, poor devil," replied Lord Etherington, "would lose his money, and run the risk of a quarrel into the boot!-We will try it another way-Suppose this good-humoured and simpleminded gamester had a favour of the deepest import to ask of his friend, and judged it better to prefer his request to a winner than to a loser?"

"If this applies to me, my lord," replied Mowbray, "it is necessary I should learn how I can oblige your lordship."

less and indifferent about his play, suffering advantages to escape him, of which, in a more attentive state of mind, he could not have failed to avail himself. Mowbray upbraided him with his inattention, and proposed a deeper stake, in order to interest him in the game. The young nobleman complied; and in the course of a few hands, the gamesters became both deeply engaged in watching and profiting by the changes of fortune. These were so many, so varied, and so unexpected, that the very souls of the players seemed at length centred in the event of the struggle; and, by dint of doubling stakes, the accumulated sum of a thousand pounds and upwards, upon each side, came to be staked in the issue of the Mowbray started.-"I have indeed a sister, my game. So large a risk included all those funds which lord; but I can conceive no case in which her name Mowbray commanded by his sister's kindness, and can enter with propriety into our present discussion." nearly all his previous winnings, so to him the alter- "Again in the menacing mood!" said Lord Ethenative was victory or ruin. He could not hide his agi-rington, in his former tone; "now, here is a pretty tation, however desirous to do so. He drank wine to fellow-he would first cut my throat for having won supply himself with courage-he drank water to cool a thousand pounds from me, and then for offering to his agitation; and at length bent himself to play with make his sister a countess!"" as much care and attention as he felt himself enabled to command.

In the first part of the game their luck appeared tolerably equal, and the play of both befitting gamesters who had dared to place such a sum on the cast. But, as it drew towards a conclusion, fortune altogether deserted him who stood most in need of her fayour, and Mowbray, with silent despair, saw his fate depend on a single trick, and that with every odds against him, for Lord Etherington was elder hand. But how can fortune's favour secure any one who is not true to himself?-By an infraction of the laws of the game, which could only have been expected from the veriest bungler that ever touched a card, Lord Etherington called a point without showing it, and, by the ordinary rule, Mowbray was entitled to count his own--and in the course of that and the next nand, gained the game and swept the stakes. Lord Etherington showed chagrin and displeasure, and seemed to think that the rigour of the game had been more insisted upon than in courtesy it ought to have been, when men were playing for so small a stake. Mowbray did not understand this logic. A thousand pounds, he said, were in his eyes no nutshells; the rules of piquet were insisted on by all but boys and women; and for his part, he had rather not play at all than not play the game.

So it would seem, my dear Mowbray," said the Earl; "for on my soul, I never saw so disconsolate a visage as thine during that unlucky game-it withdrew all my attention from my hand; and I may safely say, your rueful countenance has stood me in a thousand pounds. If I could transfer thy long visage to canvass, I should have both my revenge and my money; for a correct resemblance would be worth not a penny less than the original has cost me.'

"You are welcome to your jest, my lord," said Mowbray; "it has been well paid for; and I will serve you in ten thousand at the same rate. What say you?" he proceeded, taking up and shuffling the cards, "will you do yourself more justice in another game?-Revenge, they say, is sweet."

"I have no appetite for it this evening," said the Earl, gravely; if I had, Mowbray, you might come by the worse. I do not always call a point without showing it."

"Your lordship is out of humour with yourself for a blunder that might happen to any man-it was as much my good luck as a good hand would have been, and so fortune be praised."

"But what if with this Fortune had naught to do?" replied Lord Etherington.-"What if, sitting down with an honest fellow and a friend like yourself, Mowbray, a man should rather choose to lose his own money, which he could afford, than to win what it might distress his friend to part with?"

Supposing a case so far out of supposition, my lord," answered Mowbray, who felt the question ticklish-"for, with submission, the allegation is easily made, and is totally incapable of proof-I should say, no one had a right to think for me in such a particular, or to suppose that I played for a higher stake than was convenient."

"That is a word soon spoken, but so difficult to be recalled, that I am almost tempted to pause-but yet it must be said.-Mowbray, you have a sister."

66

A countess, my lord?" said Mowbray; "you are but jesting-you have never even seen Clara Mowbray."

"Perhaps not-but what then?-I may have seen her picture, as Puff says in the Critic, or fallen in love with her from rumour-or, to save farther suppositions, as I see they render you impatient, I may be satisfied with knowing that she is a beautiful and accomplished young lady, with a large fortune."

"What fortune do you mean, my lord?" said Mowbray, recollecting, with alarm some claims, which, according to Meiklewham's view of the subject, his sister might form upon his property.-"What estate? there is nothing belongs to our family, save these lands of St. Ronan's, or what is left of them; and of these I am, my lord, an undoubted heir of entail in possession."

"Be it so," said the Earl, "for I have no claim on your mountain realms here, which are, doubtless,

renown'd of old

For knights, and squires, and barons bold;" my views respect a much richer, though less romantic domain-a large manor, height Nettlewood. House old, but standing in the midst of such glorious oaks

three thousand acres of land, arable, pasture, and woodland, exclusive of the two closes, occupied by Widow Hodge and Goodman Trampclod-manorial rights-mines and minerals-and the devil knows how many good things besides, all lying in the vale of Bever."

"And what has my sister to do with all this?" asked Mowbray, in great surprise.

"Nothing; but that it belongs to her when she becomes Countess of Etherington."

"It is, then, your lordship's property already?" "No, by Jove! nor can it, unless your sister honours me with her approbation of my suit," replied the Earl.

"This is a sorer puzzle than one of Lady Penelope's charades, my lord," said Mr. Mowbray; "I must call in the assistance of the Reverend Mr. Chatterly."

"You shall not need," said Lord Etherington; "I will give you the key, but listen to me with patience.

You know that we nobles of England, less jealous of our sixteen quarters than those on the continent, do not take scorn to line our decayed ermines with a little cloth of gold from the city; and my grandfather was lucky enough to get a wealthy wife, with a halting pedigree, rather a singular circumstance considering that her father was a countryman of yours. She had a brother, however, still more wealthy than herself, and who increased his fortune by continuing to carry on the trade which had first enriched his family. At length he summed up his books, washed his hands of commerce, and retired to Nettlewood, to become a gentleman; and here my much respected granduncle was seized with the rage of making himself a man of consequence. He tried what marrying a woman of family would do; but he soon found that whatever advantage his family might derive from his doing so, his own condition was but little illustrated. He next resolved to become a man of family himself. His father had left Scotland when