"Yes," replied Clara, "that worthy really deserved to wear his ass's head to the end of the chapter--but what of him?"

"I wish you joy of your purchase-but don't scratch me for not caring about it-I know as little of books as you of the long odds. And come now, be serious, "Only conceive that he should be the very same and tell me if you will be a good girl-lay aside your person with that handsome Spaniard," replied Mow-whims, and receive this English young nobleman like a lady as you are?"

bray.

Then there is one fool fewer than I thought there was," replied Clara, with the greatest indifference. Her brother bit his lip.

"That were easy," said Clara-" but-but-Pray, ask no more of me than just to see him.-Say to him at once, I am a poor creature in body, in mind, in spirits, in temper, in understanding-above all, say that I can receive him only once."

"Clara," he said, "I believe you are an excellent good girl, and clever to boot, but pray do not set up for wit and oddity; there is nothing in life so intoler- "I shall say no such thing," said Mowbray, bluntly; able as pretending to think differently from other "it is good to be plain with you at once-I thought of people. That gentleman was the Earl of Ether-putting off this discussion—but since it must come, ington." the sooner it is over the better.-You are to understand, Clara Mowbray, that Lord Etherington has a particular view in this visit, and that his view has my full sanction and approbation."

This annunciation, though made in what was meant to be an imposing tone, had no impression on Clara. "I hope he plays the peer better than the Fidalgo," she replied carelessly.

"I thought so,' said Clara, in the same altered "Yes," answered Mowbray, "he is one of the tone of voice in which she had before spoken; "my handsomest men of the time, and decidedly fashion-mind foreboded this last of misfortunes! But, Mowable--you will like him much when you see him in bray, you have no child before you-I neither will nor private." can see this nobleman."

"It is of little consequence whether I do or no," answered Clara.

"You mistake the matter," said Mowbray, gravely; "it may be of considerable consequence.

"Indeed!" said Clara, with a smile; "I must suppose myself, then, too important a person not to make my approbation necessary to one of your first-rates? He cannot pretend to pass muster at St. Ronan's without it? Well, I will depute my authority to Lady Binks,,, and she shall pass your new recruits instead

"How!" exclaimed Mowbray, fiercely; "do you dare return me so peremptory an answer?-Think better of it, for, if we differ, you will find you will have the worst of the game."

"Rely upon it," she continued, with more vehemence, "I will see him nor no man upon the footing you mention-my resolution is taken, and threats and entreaties will prove equally unavailing."

"Upon my word, madam," said Mowbray, "you have, for a modest and retired young lady, plucked up of me." a goodly spirit of your own!-But you shall find mine "This is all nonsense, Clara," said Mowbray, equals it. If you do not agree to see my friend Lord "Lord Etherington calls here this very morning, and Etherington, ay, and to receive him with the politewishes to be made known to you. I expect you willness due to the consideration I entertain for him, by receive him as a particular friend of mine." Heaven! Clara, I will no longer regard you as my father's daughter. Think what you are giving upthe affection and protection of a brother-and for what?-merely for an idle point of etiquette.-You cannot, I suppose, even in the workings of your romantic brain, imagine that the days of Clarissa Harlowe and Harriet Byron are come back again, when women were married by main force? and it is monstrous vanity in you to suppose that Lord Etherington, since he has honoured you with any thoughts at all, will not be satisfied with a proper and civil refusal-You are no such prize, methinks, that the days of romance are to come back for you."

"With all my heart-so you will engage, after this visit, to keep him down with your other particular friends at the Well-you know it is a bargain that you bring neither buck nor pointer into my parlour-the one worries cat, and the other my temper."

You mistake me entirely, Clara-this is a very different visiter from any I have ever introduced to you-I expect to see him often here, and I hope you and he will be better friends than you think of. I have more reasons for wishing this, than I have now time to tell you."

Clara remained silent for an instant, then looked at her brother with an anxious and scrutinizing glance, as if she wished to penetrate into his inmost

purpose.

"I care not what days they are," said Clara-"I tell you I will not see Lord Etherington, or any one else, upon such preliminaries as you have stated-I "If I thought," she said, after a minute's conside-cannot-I will not-and I ought not.-Had you meant ration, and with an altered and disturbed tone; "but no-I will not think that Heaven intends me such a blow-least of all, that it should come from your hands." She walked hastily to the window, and threw it open-then shut it again, and returned to her seat, saying, with a constrained smile, "May Heaven". forgive you, brother, but you frightened me heartily." "I did not mean to do so, Clara," said Mowbray, who saw the necessity of soothing her; "I only alluded in joke to those chances that are never out of other girls' heads, though you never seem to calculate on them."

me to receive him, which can be a matter of no conse⚫ quence whatever, you should have left him on the footing of an ordinary visiter as it is, I will not see him."

"I wish you, my dear John,” said Clara, struggling to regain entire composure, "I wish you would profit by my example, and give up the science of chance also -it will not avail you."

"How d'ye know that?-I'll show you the contrary, you silly wench," answered Mowbray-"Here is a banker's bill, payable to your own order, for the cash you lent me, and something over-don't let old Mick have the fingering, but let Bindloose manage it for you-he is the honester man between two d-d knaves."

"Will not you, brother, send it to the man Bindloose yourself?"

"No,-no," replied Mowbray--" he might confuse it with some of my transactions, and so you forfeit your stake."

"Well, I am glad you are able to pay me, for I want to buy Campbell's new work."

"You shall see and hear him both," said Mowbray; you shall find me as obstinate as you are as willing to forget I am a brother, as you to forget that you have one.'

"It is time, then," replied Clara, "that this house, once our father's, should no longer hold us both. can provide for myself, and may God bless you!"

"You take it coolly, madam," said her brother, walking through the apartment with much anxiety both of look and gesture.

"I do," she answered, "for it is what I have often foreseen-Yes, brother, I have often foreseen that you would make your sister the subject of your plots and schemes, so soon as other stakes failed you. That hour is come, and I am, as you see, prepared to meet it.'

"And where may you propose to retire to?" said Mowbray. "I think that I, your only relation and natural guardian, have a right to know that-my honour and that of my family is concerned."

"Your honour!" she retorted, with a keen glance at him; "your interest, I suppose you mean, is somehow connected with the place of my abode.-But keep yourself patient-the den of the rock, the linn of the brook, should be my choice, rather than a palace without my freedom."

"You are mistaken, however," said Mowbray, sternly, "if you hope to enjoy more freedom than I think you capable of making a good use of. The law authorizes, and reason, and even affection, require, that you should be put under restraint for your own safety, and that of your character. You roamed the woods a little too much in my father's time, if all stories be true."

"I did-I did indeed, Mowbray," said Clara, weeping; "God pity me, and forgive you for upbraiding me with my state of mind-I know I cannot sometimes trust my own judgment; but is it for you to remind me of this?"

Mowbray was at once softened and embarrassed. "What folly is this?" he said; "you say the most cutting things to me--are ready to fly from my house --and when I am provoked to make an angry answer, you burst into tears!"

"Say you did not mean what you said, my dearest brother!" exclaimed Clara; "O say you did not mean it!-Do not take my liberty from me-it is all I have left, and, God knows, it is a poor comfort in the sorrows I undergo. I will put a fair face on every thing-will go down to the Well-will wear what you please, and say what you please-but O! leave me the liberty of my solitude here-let me weep alone in the house of my father-and do not force a brokenhearted sister to lay her death at your door. My span must be a brief one, but let not your hand shake the sand-glass!-Disturb me not-let me pass quietly-I do not ask this so much for my sake as for your own. I would have you think of me, sometimes, Mowbray, after I am gone, and without the bitter reflections which the recollection of harsh usage will assuredly bring with it. Pity me, were it but for your own sake. --I have deserved nothing but compassion at your hand-There are but two of us on earth, why should we make each other miserable?"

She accompanied these entreaties with a flood of tears, and the most heart-bursting sobs. Mowbray knew not what to determine. On the one hand, he was bound by his promise to the Earl; on the other, his sister was in no condition to receive such a visiter; nay, it was most probable, that if he adopted the strong measure of compelling her to receive him, her behaviour would probably be such as totally to break off the projected match, on the success of which he had founded so many castles in the air. In this dilemma, he had again recourse to argument.

"Heaven improve both, (in an honest way,) if she will but keep his lordship to herself!" said Clara. "Well, then," continued her brother, "things standing thus, I do not think you will have much trouble with his lordship-no more, perhaps, than just to give him a civil denial. After having spoken on such a subject to a man of my condition, he cannot well break off without you give him an apology."

"If that is all," said Clara, "he shall, as soon as he gives me an opportunity, receive such an answer as will leave him at liberty to woo any one whatsoever of Eve's daughters, excepting Clara Mowbray. Methinks I am so eager to set the captive free, that I now wish as much for his lordship's appearance as I feared it a little while since."

Nay, nay, but let us go fair and softly," said her brother. "You are not to refuse him before he asks the question."

"Certainly," said Clara; "but I well know how to manage that he shall never ask the question at all. I will restore Lady Binks's admirer, without accepting so much as a civility in ransom.'

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Worse and worse, Clara," answered Mowbray; 'you are to remember he is my friend and guest, and he must not be affronted in my house. Leave things to themselves.-Besides, consider an instant, Clara-had you not better take a little time for reflection in this case? The offer is a splendid one-title-fortune-and, what is more, a fortune which you will be well entitled to share largely in." This is beyond our implied treaty,' " said Clara. "I have yielded more than ever I thought I should have done, when I agreed that this Earl should be introduced to me on the footing of a common visiter; and now you talk favourably of his pretensions. This is an encroachment, Mowbray, and now I shall relapse into my obstinacy, and refuse to see him at all.'

"Do as you will," replied Mowbray, sensible that it was only by working on her affections that he had any chance of carrying a point against her inclination,-"Do as you will, my dear Clara; but, for Heaven's sake, wipe your eyes."

"And behave myself," said she, trying to smile as she obeyed him,-"behave myself, you would say, like folks of this world; but the quotation is lost on you, who never read either Prior or Shakspeare."

"I thank Heaven for that," said Mowbray. "I have enough to burden my brain, without carrying such a lumber of rhymes in it as you and Lady Pen do.-Come, that is right; go to the mirror, and make yourself decent."

"Clara," he said, "I am, as I have repeatedly said, your only relation and guardian-if there be any real reason why you ought not to receive, and, at least, make a civil reply to such a negotiation as the Earl A woman must be much borne down indeed by of Etherington has thought fit to open, surely I ought pain and suffering, when she loses all respect for to be intrusted with it. You enjoyed far too much her external appearance. The madwoman in Bedof that liberty which you seem to prize so highly du- lam wears her garland of straw with a certain air ring my father's lifetime-in the last years of it at of pretensions; and we have seen a widow whom we least-have you formed any foolish attachment du- knew to be most sincerely affected by a recent dering that time, which now prevents you from receiv-privation, whose weeds, nevertheless, were arranged ing such a visit as Lord Etherington has threatened?" Threatened!-the expression is well chosen," said Miss Mowbray; and nothing can be more dreadful than such a threat, excepting its accomplishment."

"I am glad your spirits are reviving," replied her brother; "but that is no answer to my question."

with a dolorous degree of grace, which amounted almost to coquetry, Clara Mowbray had also, negligent as she seemed to be of appearances, her own art of the toilet, although of the most rapid and most simple character. She took off her little riding-hat, and, unbinding a lace of Indian gold which retained her locks, shook them in dark and glossy profusion Is it necessary," said Clara, "that one must have over her very handsome form, which they overactually some engagement or entanglement, to make shadowed down to her slender waist; and while her them unwilling to be given in marriage, or even to be brother stood looking on her with a mixture of pride, pestered upon such a subject?-Many young men de-affection, and compassion, she arranged them with a clare they intend to die bachelors, why may not I be permitted to commence old maid at three-and-twenty? Let me do so, like a kind brother, and there were never nephews and nieces so petted and so scolded, so nursed and so cuffed by a maiden aunt, as your children, when you have them, shall be by aunt Clara."

And why not say all this to Lord Etherington?" said Mowbray; "wait until he propose such a terrible bugbear as matrimony, before you refuse to receive him. Who knows, the whim that he hinted at may have passed away-he was, as you say, flirting with Lady Binks, and her ladyship has a good deal of address, as well as beauty."

large comb, and, without the assistance of any femme d'atours, wove them, in the course of a few minutes, into such a natural head-dress as we see on the statues of the Grecian nymphs.

"Now let me but find my best muff," she said come prince and peer, I shall be ready to receive them."

"Pshaw! your muff-who has heard of such a thing these twenty years? Muffs were out of fashion before you were born.",

"No matter, John," replied his sister; "when a woman wears a muff, especially a determined old maid like myself, it is a sign she has no intentions to scratch; and therefore the muff serves all the pur

Now, Heaven send his lordship may have judiciously considered all the risks which he is sure to encounter on this charmed ground, and resolved to leave his adventure unattempted," said Miss Mowbray.

tensive copse which surrounded the Castle, and were doubtless the reason of its acquiring the name of Shaws, which signifies, in the Scottish dialect, a wood of this description.

Irritated by the man's obvious desire to avoid him, and naturally obstinate in all his resolutions, Mowbray pursued for a considerable way, until he fairly lost breath; and the flier having been long out of sight, he recollected at length that his engagement with the Earl of Etherington required his attendance at the Castle.

The young lord, indeed, had arrived at Shaws-CasHer brother glanced a look of displeasure at her, as tle, so few minutes after Mowbray's departure, that he broke the seal of the letter, which was addressed it was wonderful they had not met in the avenue. to him with the words, "Haste and secrecy," written The servant to whom he applied, conceiving that his on the envelope. The contents, which greatly sur-master must return instantly, as he had gone out prised him, we remit to the commencement of the without his hat, ushered the Earl, without further cenext chapter. remony, into the breakfast-room, where Clara was seated upon one of the window-seats, so busily employed with a book, or perhaps with her own thoughts while she held a book in her hands, that she scarce raised her head, until Lord Etherington, advancing, pronounced the words, "Miss Mowbray." A start, and a loud scream, announced her deadly alarm, and these were repeated as he made one pace nearer, and in a firmer accent said, "Clara."

CHAPTER XXIV.

PRIVATE INFORMATION.

--Ope this letter;

I can produce a champion that will prove
What is avouched there.-

King Lear. THE billet which Mowbray received, and read in his sister's presence, contained these words:

SIR,

"No nearer-no nearer," she exclaimed, "if you would have me look upon you and live!" Lord Etherington remained standing, as if uncertain whether to advance or retreat, while with incredible rapidity she poured out her hurried entreaties that he would besometimes, and more frequently, as a delusive phantom, the offspring of her own excited imagination. "I knew it," she muttered, "I knew what would happen, if my thoughts were forced into that fearful channel. Speak to me, brother! speak to me while I have reason left, and tell me that what stands before me is but an empty shadow! But it is no shadow-it remains before me in all the lineaments of mortal substance!"

"CLARA MOWBRAY has few friends-none, per-gone, sometimes addressing him as a real personage, haps, excepting yourself. in right of blood, and the writer of this letter, by right of the fondest, truest, and most disinterested attachment, that ever man bore to woman. I am thus explicit with you, because though it is unlikely that I should ever again see or speak to your sister, I am desirous that you should be clearly acquainted with the cause of that interest, which I must always, even to my dying breath, take in her affairs.

"The person, calling himself Lord Etherington, is, I am aware, in the neighbourhood of Shaws-Castle, with the intention of paying his addresses to Miss Mowbray; and it is easy for me to foresee, arguing according to the ordinary views of mankind, that he may place his proposals in such a light as may make them seem highly desirable. But ere you give this person the encouragement which his offers may seem to deserve, please to inquire whether his fortune is certain, or his rank indisputable; and be not satisfied with light evidence on either point. A man may be in possession of an estate and title, to which he has no better right than his own rapacity and forwardness of assumption; and supposing Mr. Mowbray jealous, as he must be, of the honour of his family, the alliance of such a one cannot but bring disgrace. This comes from one who will make good what he has written."

'Clara," said the Earl, with a firm, yet softened voice, "collect and compose yourself. I am, indeed, no shadow-I am a much-injured man, come to demand rights which have been unjustly withheld from me. I am now armed with power as well as justice, and my claims shall be heard."

"Never-never!" replied Clara Mowbray; "since extremity is my portion, let extremity give me courage. You have no rights-none-I know you not, and I defy you."

"Defy me not, Clara Mowbray," answered the Earl, in a tone, and with a manner how different from those which delighted society! for now he was solemn, tragic, and almost stern, like the judge when he passes sentence upon a criminal..." Defy me not," he repeated. "I am your Fate, and it rests with you to make me a kind or severe one.'

"Dare you speak thus?" said Clara, her eyes flashing with anger, while her lips grew white, and quivered for fear-"Dare you speak thus, and remember that the same heaven is above our heads, to which you so solemnly vowed you would never see me more without my own consent?"

"That vow was conditional-Francis Tyrrel, as he calls himself, swore the same hath he not seen you?" He fixed a piercing look on her; "He has you dare not disown it! And shall an oath, which to him is but a cobweb, be to me a shackle of iron?"

On the first perusal of a billet so extraordinary, Mowbray was inclined to set it down to the malice of some of the people at the Well, anonymous letters being no uncommon resource of the small wits who frequent such places of general resort, as a species of deception safely and easily executed, and well calculated to produce much mischief and confusion. But upon closer consideration, he was shaken in this opinion, and, starting suddenly from the reverie into which he had fallen, asked for the messenger who had brought the letter. He was in the hall," the servant thought, and Mowbray ran to the hall. Nothe messenger was not there, but Mowbray might see "Were it but the twentieth part of an instant-the his back as he walked up the avenue. He hollo'd-least conceivable space of subdivided time-still, you no answer was returned he ran after the fellow, did meet-he saw you-you spoke to him. And me whose appearance was that of a countryman. The also you must see-me also you must hear! Or I will man quickened his pace as he saw himself pursued, first claim you for my own in the face of the world; and when he got out of the avenue, threw himself and, having vindicated my rights, I will seek out and into one of the numerous bypaths which wanderers, extinguish the wretched rival who has dared to interwho strayed in quest of nuts, or for the sake of exer- fere with them." cise, had made in various directions through the ex

The well-known crest of this ancient race, is a cat ram

"Alas! it was but for a moment," said Miss Mowbray, sinking in courage, and drooping her head as she spoke.

"Can you speak thus ?" said Clara-"can you so burst through the ties of nature?-Have you a heart!" "I have; and it shall be moulded like wax to your

pant, with a motto bearing the caution-"Touch not the cat, slightest wishes, if you agree to do me justice; but but (1. e. be out, or without] the glove."

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Miss Mowbray, that all shall remain private, which I
conceive you do not wish to be disclosed; and, unless
rely, no violence will be resorted to by me in any
absolutely compelled to it in self-defence, you may
quarter.-I relieve you from my presence."
So saying, he withdrew from the apartment.

"Do not so interpret them," she replied; "I do but submit to your presence as an unavoidable evil. Heaven be my witness, that, were it not to prevent greater and more desperate evil, I would not even so far acquiesce."

"Let acquiescence, then, be the word," he said; and so thankful will I be, even for your acquiescence,

ceived the note from Mowbray; and, allow me
"I do know the hand," said the Earl, as he re-
frame any calumny to my prejudice. I hope, Mr.
Mowbray, it is impossible for you to consider this
to say, it is the only one which could have dared to
infamous charge as any thing but a falsehood?"

such, my lord; at the same time that I cannot doubt
"My placing it in your lordship's hands, without
for a moment that your lordship has it in your
farther inquiry, is a sufficient proof that I hold it

power to overthrow so frail a calumny by the most satisfactory evidence."

"Unquestionably can, Mr. Mowbray," said the Earl; for, besides my being in full possession of the estate and title of my father, the late Earl of Etherington, I have my father's contract of marriage, my own certificate of baptism, and the evidence of the whole country, to establish my right. All these shall be produced with the least delay possible. You will not think it surprising that one does not travel with this sort of documents in one's post-chaise."

"Certainly not, my lord," said Mowbray; "it is sufficient they are forthcoming when called for. But, may I inquire, my lord, who the writer of this letter is, and whether he has any particular spleen to gratify by this very impudent assertion, which is so easily capable of being disproved ?"

"He is," said Etherington, "or, at least, has the reputation of being, I am sorry to say, a near-a very near relation of my own-in fact, a brother by the father's side, but illegitimate.-My father was fond of him-I loved him also, for he has uncommonly fine parts, and is accounted highly accomplished. But there is a strain of something irregular in his mind-a vein, in short, of madness, which breaks out in the usual manner, rendering the poor young man a dupe to vain imaginations of his own dignity and grandeur, which is perhaps the most ordinary effect of insanity, and inspiring the deepest aversion against his nearest relatives, and against myself in particular. He is a man extremely plausible, both in speech and manners; so much so, that many of my friends, think there is more vice than insanity in the irregularities which he commits; but may, I hope, be forgiven, if I have formed a milder judgment of one supposed to be my father's son. Indeed, I cannot help being sorry for poor Frank, who might have made a very distinguished figure in the world."

May I ask the gentleman's name, my lord?" said Mowbray.

"My father's indulgence gave him our family name of Tyrrel, with his own Christian name Francis; but his proper name, to which alone he has a right, is Martigny."

"I have, Mr. Mowbray," said the Earl. "Spare me on that subject, if you please-it has formed a strong reason why I did not mention my connexion with this unhappy man before; but it is no unusual thing for persons, whose imaginations are excited, to rush into causeless quarrels, and then to make discreditable retreats from them."

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leap after it is cleared, as they tell of the fellow who fainted in the morning at the sight of the precipice he had clambered over when he was drunk on the night before. The man who wrote that letter," touching it with his finger, is alive, and able to threaten me; and if he did come to any hurt from my hand, it was in the act of attempting my life, of which I shall carry the mark to my grave.'

"Nay, I am far from blaming your lordship," said Mowbray, "for what you did in self-defence, but the circumstance might have turned out very unpleasant. -May I ask what you intend to do with this unfortunate gentleman, who is in all probability in the neighbourhood?"

I must first discover the place of his retreat," said Lord Etherington, "and then consider what is to be done both for his safety, poor fellow, and my own It is probable, too, that he may find sharpers to prey upon what fortune he still possesses, which, I assure you, is sufficient to attract a set of folk, who may ruin while they humour him.-May I beg that you, too, will be on the outlook, and let me know if you hear or see more of him?"

"I shall, most certainly, my lord," answered Mowbray; "but the only one of his haunts which I know, is the old Cleikum Inn, where he chose to take up his residence. He has now left it, but perhaps the old crab-fish of a landlady may know something of him." "I will not fail to inquire," said Lord Etherington; and, with these words, he took a kind farewell of Mowbray, mounted his horse, and rode up the avenue. A cool fellow," said Mowbray, as he looked after him, "a d-d cool fellow, this brother-in-law of mine, that is to be-takes a shot at his father's son with as little remorse as at a blackcock-what would he do with me, were we to quarrel ?-Well, I can snuff a candle, and strike out the ace of hearts; and so, should things go wrong, he has no Jack Raw to deal with, but Jack Mowbray."

Mean while the Earl of Etherington hastened home to his own apartments at the Hotel; and, not entirely pleased with the events of the day, commenced a letter to his correspondent, agent, and confidant, Captain Jekyl, which we have fortunately the means of presenting to our readers.

"FRIEND HARRY,

"Francis Tyrrel!" exclaimed Mowbray; "why, that is the name of the very person who made some "THEY say a falling house is best known by the disturbance at the well just before your lordship rats leaving it-a falling state, by the desertion of arrived. You may have seen an advertisement-confederates and allies-and a falling man, by the a sort of placard." desertion of his friends. If this be true augury, your last letter may be considered as ominous of my breaking down. Methinks, you have gone far enough, and shared deep enough with me, to have some confidence in my savoir faire-some little faith both in my means and management. What cross-grained fiend has at once inspired you with what I suppose you wish me Ito call politic doubts and scruples of conscience, but "Or," said Mr. Mowbray, he may have, after which I can only regard as symptoms of fear and all, been prevented from reaching the place of ren- disaffection? You can have no idea of 'duels betwixt dezvous it was that very day on which your lord-relations so nearly connected' and 'the affair seems ship, I think, received your wound; and, if I mistake very delicate and intricate'-and again, the matter not, you hit the man from whom you got the hurt." has never been fully explained to you'---and, moreover, "Mowbray," said Lord Etherington, lowering if you are expected to take an active part in the his voice, and taking him by the arm, "it is true business, it must be when you are honoured with my that I did so and truly glad I am to observe, full and unreserved confidence, otherwise how could that, whatever might have been the consequences you be of the use to me which I might require?' Such of such an accident, they cannot have been serious. are your expressions. -It struck me afterwards, that the man by whom I was so strangely assaulted, had some resemblance to the unfortunate Tyrrel-but I had not seen him for years.-At any rate, he cannot have been much hurt, since he is now able to resume his intrigues to the prejudice of my character."

"Your lordship views the thing with a firm eye," said Mowbray; "firmer than I think most people would be able to command, who had so narrow a chance of a scrape so uncomfortable."

"Why, I am, in the first place, by no means sure that the risk existed," said the Earl of Etherington; "for, as I have often told you, I had but a very transient glimpse of the ruffian; and, in the second place, I am sure that no permanent bad consequences have ensued. I am too old a fox-hunter to be afraid of a

"Now, as to scruples of conscience about near relations, and so forth, all that has blown by without much mischief, and certainly is not likely to occur again-besides, did you never hear of friends quarrel ling before? And are they not to exercise the usual privileges of gentlemen when they do? Moreover, how am I to know that this plaguy fellow is actually related to me?-They say it is a wise child knows its own father; and I cannot be expected wise enough to know to a certainty my father's son.-So much for relationship. Then, as to full and unreserved confidence-why, Harry, this is just as if I were to ask you to look at a watch, and tell what it was o'clock, and you were to reply, that truly you could not inform me, because you had not examined the springs, the counter-balances, the wheels, and the whole internal