"Very well, Mr. Charles Chesterfield. Of course you are perfectly the master of yourself and of your actions. You may communicate, or you may conceal, precisely which you choose-far be it from me to attempt to assume any control, or even influence over you. But in the same manner that I leave you free, I expect that you will leave me so; and I tell you with the honest frankness which you ought by this time to know is the most remarkable feature in my character, that whenever you inform your father, or any of your relatives, that you have sold your money out of the funds, and placed it in my hands, I shall forthwith inform them what the motive was which induced me to permit your doing so, without writing to consult them on the subject. I mean to say-understand me clearly, I never permit the slightest equivocation or uncertainty to rest on any words of mine-I mean to say, that whenever you inform them of this transfer of your money to me, I shall inform them of your promise of marriage to Mrs. Sherbourne."

"Then both the one and the other shall remain secret, Sir George," replied the embarrassed young man, whose objections to his misadventure being known at Maplebury, grew stronger the more he thought of it."I do give you the promise you require, and hereby pledge you my word and honour never to mention the subject to my father or any of my family as long as you will keep the other secret too."

"Very well, my dear fellow, that is as it should be," said Sir George, cordially holding out his hand to him. "It would be a thousand pities if you and I should ever have any lasting dispute, our real feelings and principles are so completely in unison.'

Exceedingly touched, and exceedingly flattered, Charles pressed respectfully the offered hand, and said with a smile that marked his entire satisfaction,

"Now then, my dear Sir George, have the kindness to tell me what it is I ought to say to Mrs. Sherbourne about my money?"

To conceal nothing from the courteous reader, it must be confessed that this question found Sir George Meddows totally unprepared with an answer. His first object had been to get possession of Charles Chesterfield's legacy; his second, to conceal the whole transaction from the friendly but shrewd old farmer, and further than that "his habits of business" had not yet carried him. But he was not a man to be easily disconcerted by a question, and raising his hand to his chin with a look of much meditative wisdom, he said, after the interval of two or three minutes,

"The object we have in view, Charles, is distinct and clear enough, that we must of course take care not to lose sight of. But as to the manner of it, there may be room for doubt. In the course of to morrow, however, I will make a sort of sketch of the letter which I think you ought to write to her."

Charles was all gratitude. That evening he accompanied his distinguished friend to the theatre, and feeling convinced that his affairs were speedily drawing to the crisis which would immediately enable him to return to Maplebury, now become to his imagination the only haven of rest in which he desired to find himself, he once more felt himself a fortunate and happy man; and though smiling at the folly

which had once led him to fancy that he should find happiness any where else, he yet rejoiced to think how much he should have to talk about, how much to describe when he next found himself seated beside little Bessy in the orchard. Sometimes it is true, he recalled the style of his last letter to her, and his very ears tingled as he remembered how many times he had called her "little girl;" but he got over this by mentally exclaiming,

"And so she is! she is a little girl, and a most angelic little girl. And when she finds I think her so still, she will forgive my letters for being rather more stupid than my sonnets."

At a rather late breakfast on the following morning, Sir George presented to him the draught of a letter to Mrs. Sherbourne.

"You see what habits of business are, Charles," said he, "I suppose you have been sleeping snugly, while I have been at work for you. Read this over, and tell me if you do not think it will answer our purpose."

Charles took the paper with a little trepidation, and read as follows:

"Madam,

"The nature of your attachment to me from the very beginning has become so evident, that I scruple not to treat your present course of proceeding with the unceremonious frankness which must be most convenient to both of us.

"The action which you threaten to bring has doubtless for its object the obtaining a portion of the legacy which you have heard spoken of, as damages. I therefore think it right to inform you, that this legacy has passed from my hands into those of a gentleman, to whom I have paid it as a debt of honour, so that I am now the same penniless individual that I was before this little fortune came to me. If, however, your attachment is not of the mercenary kind which I have been led to suppose, and that from motives of real affection you are still willing to become my wife, destitute as I am, this proof of your sincerity will at once remove all my doubts, and find me perfectly willing to renew the engagement."

Sir George Meddows sat watching Charles with a sort of triumphant chuckle as he perused these lines, and felt both indignation and disappointment upon perceiving that instead of the satisfaction which they were expected to produce, the countenance of young Chesterfield expressed nothing but dismay.

Having reached its conclusion, the astounded young man folded up the paper, and laying it as far from himself and as near to Sir George as he conveniently could, said with an air of simple and profound astonishment,

"But there is no truth in it, Sir George!"

The baronet laughed. The laugh was about half genuine, and half affected.

"Ah! I see now," said his comforted companion, "you are only making fun of Mrs. Sherbourne, and of me too, perhaps. But, dear Sir George, do tell me, in serious earnest, what you think I had better say to her? Of course you do not mean I should send this?"

Sir George Meddows took counsel with himself for a moment as to the importance of the rustic lad's opinion of him at this advanced period of their acquaintance, and speedily came to the conclusion that at present it mattered not a pin whether he thought him an angel or a demon, a saint or a sinner. Nevertheless, though be condescended not to change his mode of proceeding, he was willing to give it as fair an appearance as might be, and answered lightly, that he had no jest in his thoughts, but added,

"You probably do not very clearly understand the nature of the business you are upon, Mr. Chesterfield. When you know the world a little better, you will become aware of the necessity, imperative upon all men, of using for defence pretty nearly the same weapons as those with which they are attacked. Were your inamorata a lady of high principle and unblemished integrity, every word addressed to her should be marked by these attributes; but, as the case stands, you are lost, if in your skirmishing you use not foils of the self-same length as her own."

Charles mused for a moment or two, as if endeavouring fully to understand the meaning of what had been said to him, and then replied

"I am sure you know best about every thing, excepting just what nobody can tell exactly except myself. How can I tell her that I am ready to marry her, when I know in my own heart that I would rather lose every farthing I have got in the world, than do any such thing."

"Then tell her this, Mr. Chesterfield, if you think your doing so will stop the action. But I doubt if you would find it succeed."

"No, no, Sir George, I don't want to tell her any thing about it; and I do not see there is any need that I should. What I hoped you would be kind enough to explain to me was, the nature of my loan to you, which, if I understood you rightly, would render a verdict for damages of no use to her."

"Most assuredly the loan you have made is of that nature," replied the baronet, with a peculiar smile, that was not unusual with him. "And as to the phrase, 'debt of honour,' you may safely use it, without at all wounding your conscience-for you did once owe me a hundred pounds, you know, which was decidedly a debt of honour, inasmuch as I had taken no security for it-and the paying this was a part of the transaction. Take my word for it, my good fellow, the best thing you can do will be to copy this letter, and send it off, without making any more fuss about it;" and as he spoke, Sir George pushed the paper back towards his companion.

Harassed and puzzled, poor Charles once more opened the paper and read it; but though much more aware than he had at first been of the excellent effect which it was calculated to produce upon the lady, he was, if possible, more conscious also of its falsehood; and the bold words, "I never told a lie in my life, Sir George," were on his lips, but as he raised his head to utter them, he perceived such an expression of haughty contempt on the countenance of the baronet, that he checked himself, and suddenly feeling that he was bound to him by no tie which exacted either obedience or confidence beyond what was con

venient to himself, he pocketed the paper with an air of such quiet composure as somewhat to puzzle his sharp-witted patron, and said,

"I am sure it is exceedingly kind of you, Sir George, to take so much trouble about it; but the sun is shining so gloriously upon the sea, and the pier looks so very delightful, that I must go and enjoy it a little before I think any more about this tiresome business-I shall have plenty of time to write afterwards."

Au ewspaper, together with several letters, were handed to Sir George at this moment, which stopped whatever reply he might have been going to make; and hastily finishing his breakfast, Charles made a silent unseen bow, and departed, leaving the baronet deeply engaged with his despatches, and betaking himself according to his proclaimed intention to the enjoyment of a bright wintry sun; but the morning did not pass without his having composed the following amended version of Sir George's epistle.

"Madam,

"The nature of your attachment to me has become so evident, that I scruple not to treat your present course of proceeding with the frankness which must be most convenient to both of us. The action which you threaten to bring against me has doubtless for its object the obtaining a portion of the legacy which you have heard spoken of, as damages. I therefore think it right to inform you that this legacy has passed from my hands in a manner which prevents its being available to any such object.

"I remain, Madam,

"Your obedient Servant,

"CHARLES CHESTERFIELD."

This amended epistle was put into the post before he met his patron at dinner, and he had reason to rejoice at having been so prompt, as he would have found small leisure for writing afterwards. Sir George rang the bell sharply the moment he appeared.

"Let us have dinner the instant it is ready," he said to the servant who answered it; then turning to Charles, he continued, "You must not think of dressing, my good fellow, I must be off for town to-night -and I think you had better accompany me. I have for some time been only waiting the result of a consultation of physicians well acquainted with my case, in order to decide upon taking a short tour on the continent: I have received their approval of this scheme by this morning's post, as I should have told you directly, had you not bolted in such a hurry. But with this I received other letters also, mentioning circumstances which render it necessary for me to settle two or three trifling affairs before I leave England. You know my regular habits of business, Charles, and will not wonder at my being in a hurry to finish whatever there is to be done. Of course, my dear fellow, you will now return home immediately, and I have great pleasure in thinking what a much smarter fellow I send back than I brought out with me-and a wiser one too, I have no doubt of it. Here comes a summons to dinner-that's well, for we have not a moment to lose. The coach starts at ten, and you must get your things together as soon as

you have dined. morning."

My man has been at the same work for me all the

This hurried movement considerably startled young Chesterfield: but obedience being inevitable, he gave himself very little trouble concerning the motives which led to the command he had received, and leaping the not very agreeable interval that must occur before he started again from London on his journey homeward, he fixed his thoughts almost wholly on that dear home itself, and on all the cherished objects it contained; every one of which had resumed its proper niche in his heart, from the moment the film engendered by his wild literary hopes fell from his eyes. The night-journey, therefore, though his companion was either sleepy, sad, or sulky (for he never uttered a word), was far from disagreeable, as between waking and sleeping dreams, he passed the whole time that it lasted in the most agreeable manner that a night-journey could permit.

On arriving in town, the stage was exchanged for a hack, that speedily rattled them to Bruton-street, where the bills upon the windows announcing that it was still to let, accounted for the continued residence there of Mrs. Longuéville and Clara, which had been prolonged some days beyond the period at first proposed.

The greatly reduced household were all fast asleep, and the difficulty of obtaining an entrance seemed to complete the discomfiture of the lively baronet's temper, for he swore vehemently before the lagging doors of his once gay mansion opened to receive him, and as he entered them, he uttered something so like a groan that Chesterfield started.

It is not an uncommon thing for persons entering even their own mansions unexpectedly, and at an hour which custom dedicates to repose, to give especial directions that no one shall be disturbed before their usual time of rising; but Sir George Meddows was not one of these. He ordered the Dustabell who let them in, first to awaken Miss Meddows without a moment's delay, and desire her to come immediately to make his breakfast, and then to return again, without a moment's delay, to light a fire in the library; which being done, Sir George sat himself down beside it in a state of mind by no means enviable.

There exists in all very highly civilized parts of the world a race of male human beings, who, after having forfeited successively, and sometimes in very rapid succession, every openly recognised claim to respect from their fellow creatures, contrive to avoid the penalty consequent on the loss of it, by boldly enacting a code of their own, in which the relative positions of virtue and vice, according to the classification of the vulgar, is so far reversed as to render a practical defiance of the oldfashioned decalogue no impediment whatever to the very highest consideration and esteem. This species of conventional toleration would be much less remarkable were it wholly confined to those benefited by it; but, till one becomes used to it, the effect of seeing this sort of gentry received with distinguished consideration in all fashionable circles, and treated as something too precious to be examined freely, is somewhat startling to the moral sense. Such is the case, however; and few persons owed more to this species of voluntary blindness in those with whom they associated, than Sir George Meddows. In so slight a sketch of this accomplished gentleman as the progress of Charles