Chapter XX.

As a month had elapsed since the receiving of his wound, Denbigh took an opportunity one morning at breakfast, where he was well enough now to meet his friends, to announce his intention of trespassing no longer on their kindness, but of returning that day to the rectory; the communication distressed the whole family, and the baronet turned to him in the most cordial manner, as he took one of his hands, and said, with an air of solemnity,

"Mr. Denbigh, I could wish you to make this house your home; Doctor Ives may have known you longer, and may have ties of blood upon you, but I am certain he cannot love you better; and are not the ties of gratitude as binding as those of blood?"

Denbigh was affected by the kindness of Sir Edward's manner, as he replied,

"The regiment I belong to, Sir Edward, will be reviewed next week, and it has become my duty to leave here; there is one it is proper I should visit, a near connexion, who is acquainted with the escape I have met with, and wishes naturally to see me; besides, my dear Sir Edward, she has many causes of sorrow, and it is a debt I owe her affection to endeavour to relieve them." It was the first time he had ever spoken of his family, orhardly of himself; and the silence which prevailed, plainly showed the interest the listeners took in the little he uttered.

That connexion, thought Emily, I wonder if her name be Marian. But nothing further passed, excepting the affectionate regrets of her father, and the promises of Denbigh to visit them again before he left B--, and of joining them at L--immediately after the review he spoke of. As soon as he had breakfasted, John drove him in his phaeton to the rectory.

Mrs. Wilson, like the rest of the baronet's family, had been too deeply impressed with the debt they owed to this young man, to interfere with her favourite system of caution, against too great an intimacy between her niece and her preserver. Close observation, and the opinion of Dr. Ives, had prepared her to give him her esteem; but the gallantry, the self-devotion he had displayed to Emily, was an act calculated to remove heavier objections than she could imagine as likely to exist, to his becoming her husband--that

he meant it, was evident from his whole deportment of late. Since the morning the portfolio was produced, Denbigh had given a more decided preference to her niece. The nice discrimination of Mrs. Wilson would not have said his feelings had become stronger, but that he laboured less to conceal them-- that he loved her niece, she suspected from the first fortnight of their acquaintance, andit had given additional stimulus to her investigation into her character--but to doubt it, after stepping between her and death, would have been to have mistaken human nature. There was one qualification, she would have wished to have been certain he possessed; before this accident, she would have made it an indispensible one; but the gratitude-- the affections of Emily, she believed now to be too deeply engaged to make the strict inquiry she otherwise would have done, and she had the best of reasons for believing that if Denbigh were not a professing Christian, he was at least a strictly moral man, and assuredly, one who well understood the beauties of a religion, she almost conceived it impossible for any impartial and intelligent man to resist long; perhaps Mrs. Wilson, owing to circumstances without her control, had in some measure interfered with her system--like others, had, on finding it impossible to conduct so that reason would justify all she did, began to find reasons for what she thought best to be done under the circumstances. Denbigh had, however, both by his acts and his opinions, created such an estimate of his worth, in the breast of Mrs. Wilson, that there would have been but little danger of a repulse, had no fortuitous accident helped him in his way to her favour.

"Who have we here," said Lady Moseley; "a landaulet and four--the Earl of Bolton,I declare;" and Lady Moseley turned from the window, with that collected grace she so well loved, and so well knew how to assume, to receive her noble visiter. Lord Bolton was a bachelor of sixty-five, who had long been attached to the court, and had retained much of the manners of the old school; his principle estate was in Ireland, and most of that time which his duty at Windsor did not require, he gave to the improvement of his Irish property; thus, although on perfectly good terms with the baronet's family, they seldom met--with General Wilson he had been at college, and to his widow he always showed much of that regard he had invariably professed to her husband. The obligation he had conferred, unasked, on Francis Ives, was one conferred on all his friends; and his reception was now warmer than usual.

"My Lady Moseley," said the earl, bowing on her hand, "your looks do ample justice to the air of Northamptonshire. I hope your ladyship enjoys your usual health;" and then waiting her equally courteous answer, he paid his compliments, in succession, to all the members of the family; a mode undoubtedly well adapted to discover their several conditions, but not a little tedious in its operations, and somewhat tiresome to the legs.

"We are under a debt of gratitude to your lordship," said Sir Edward, in his simple andwarm-hearted way, "that I am sorry it is not in our power to repay more amply than by our thanks."

The earl was, or affected to be, surprised, as he required an explanation.

"The living at Bolton, my lord," said Lady Moseley, with dignity.

"Yes," continued her husband; "your lordship, in giving the living to Frank, did me a favour, equal to what you would have done, had he been my own child--and unsolicited too, my lord, it was an additional compliment."

The earl sat rather uneasy during this speech, but the love of truth prevailed, for he had been too much round the person of our beloved sovereign, not to retain all the impressions of his youth; and after a little struggle with his self love, answered,

"Not unsolicited, Sir Edward. I have no doubt had my better fortune allowed me the acquaintance of my present rector, his own merit would have obtained, what a sense of justice requires I should say was granted to an applicant, the ear of royalty would not have been deaf to."

It was the turn of the Moseleys now to look surprised, and Sir Edward ventured to ask an explanation.

"It was my cousin, the Earl of Pendennyss, who applied to me for it, as a favour done to himself; and Pendennyss is a man not to be refused any thing."

"Lord Pendennyss," exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, with animation, "and in what way came we to be under this obligation to his lordship?"

"He did me the honour of a call, during my visit to Ireland, madam,"

replied the earl, "and on inquiring of my steward after his old friend, Doctor Stevens, learnt his death, and the claims of Mr. Ives; but the reason he gave me, was his interest in the widow of General Wilson," bowing with much solemnity to the lady as he spoke.

"I am gratified to find the earl yet remembers us," said Mrs. Wilson, struggling to restrain her tears; "are we to have the pleasure of seeing him

soon?"

"I received a letter from him yesterday, saying he should be here in all next week, madam;" and turning pleasantly to Jane and her sister, he continued, "Sir Edward, you have here rewards fit for heavier services, and the earl is a great admirer of female charms."

"Is he not married, my lord?" asked the baronet, with great simplicity.

"No, baronet, nor engaged; but how long he will remain so after his hardihood in venturing into this neighbourhood, will, I trust, depend on one of these young ladies."

Jane looked grave--for trifling on love was heresy in her estimation; but Emily laughed, with an expression in which a skilful physiognomist might have read--if he means me, he is mistaken.

"Your cousin, Lord Chatterton, has foundinterest, Sir Edward,"

continued the peer, "to obtain his father's situation; and if reports speak truth, he wishes to become more nearly related to you, baronet."

"I do not well see how that can happen," said Sir Edward, with a smile, and who had not art enough to conceal his thoughts, "unless he takes my sister, here."

The cheeks of both the young ladies now vied with the rose; and the peer observing he had touched on forbidden ground, added, "Chatterton was fortunate to find friends able to bear up against the powerful interest of Lord Haverford."

"To whom was he indebted for the place, my lord?" asked Mrs.

Wilson.

"It was whispered at court, madam," said the earl, sensibly lowering his voice, and speaking with an air of mystery, a lord of the bed-chamber is fonder of, than a lord of the council-board, "that His Grace of Derwent threw the whole of his parliamentary interest into the scale on the baron's side-- but you are not to suppose," raising his hand gracefully, with a wave of rejection, "that I speak from authority; only a surmise, Sir Edward--only a surmise, my lady."

"Is not the name of the Duke of Derwent, Denbigh?" inquired Mrs.

Wilson, with a thoughtful manner.

"Certainly, madam--Denbigh," replied the earl, with a gravity with which he always spoke of dignities, "one of our most ancientnames, and descended on the female side, from the Plantagenets and Tudors."

He now rose to take his leave, and on bowing to the younger ladies, laughingly repeated his intention of bringing his cousin (an epithet he never omitted) Pendennyss to their feet.

"Do you think, sister," said Lady Moseley, after the earl had retired,

"that Mr. Denbigh is of the house of Derwent?"

"I cannot say," replied Mrs. Wilson, musing, "yet it is odd--Chatterton told me of his acquaintance with Lady Harriet Denbigh, but not with the duke." As this was spoken in the manner of a soliloquy, it received no answer, and was in fact but little attended to by any of the party, excepting Emily, who glanced her eye once or twice at her aunt as she was speaking, with an interest the name of Denbigh never failed to excite. Harriet was, she thought, a pretty name, but Marian was a prettier; if, thought Emily, I could know a Marian Denbigh, I am sure I could love her, and her name too.

The Moseleys now began to make their preparations for their departure to L--, and the end of the succeding week was fixed for the period at which they were to go; Mrs. Wilson urged a delay of two or three days, in order to give her an opportunity of meeting with the Earl of Pendennyss, a young man in whom, although she had relinquishedher former romantic wish of uniting him to Emily, in favour of Denbigh, she yet felt a deep interest, growing out of his connexion with the last moments of her husband, and his uniformly high character.

Sir Edward accordingly acquainted his uncle, that on the following Saturday he might expect to receive himself and family, intending to leave the hall in the afternoon of the preceding day, and reach Benfield Lodge to dinner; this arrangement once made, and Mr. Benfield notified of it, was unalterable, the old man holding a variation from an engagement a deadly sin. The week succeeding the accident, which had nearly proved so fatal to Denbigh, the inhabitants of the hall were surprised with the approach of a being, as singular in his manners and dress, as the equipage which conveyed him to the door of the mansion--the latter consisted of a high-backed, old-fashioned sulky, loaded with leather and large headed brass nails; wheels at least a quarter larger in circumference than those of the present day, and wings on each side, large enough to have supported a full grown roc, in the highest regions of the upper air--it was drawn by a horse, once white, but whose milky hue was tarnished, through age, with large and numerous red spots, and whose mane and tail did not appear to have suffered by the shears during the present reign. The being who alighted

from this antiquated vehicle, was tall and excessively thin, wore his own hair drawn over his almost naked head, into a long thin cue, which reached half way down his back, closely cased in numerous windings of leather, or skin of some fish. His drab coat was in shape between a frock and close-body--close-body, indeed, it was; for the buttons, which were in size about equal to an old-fashioned China saucer, were buttoned to the very throat, and thereby setting off his shapes to peculiar advantage; his breeches were buckskin, and much soiled; his stockings blue yarn, although it was midsummer; and his shoes provided with buckles of dimensions proportionate to the aforesaid buttons; his age might have been seventy, but his walk was quick, and the movements of his whole system showed great activity both of mind and body. He was ushered into the room where the gentlemen were sitting, and having made a low and extremely modest bow, deliberately put on his spectacles, thrust his hand into an outside pocket of his coat, and produced, from under its huge flaps, a black leather pocket-book, about as large as a good sized octavo volume; after examining the multitude of papers it contained carefully, he selected a letter, and having returned the pocket-book to its ample apartment, read aloud--"For Sir Edward Moseley, bart. of Moseley Hall, B--, Northamptonshire--with care and speed, by the hands of Mr. Peter Johnson, steward ofBenfield Lodge, Norfolk;" and dropping his sharp voice, he stalked up to where the baronet stood, and presented the epistle, with another reverence.

"Ah, my good friend Johnson," said Sir Edward, as soon as he delivered his errand, (for until he saw the contents of the letter, he had thought some accident had occurred to his uncle,) "this is the first visit you have ever honoured me with; come, take a glass of wine before you go to your dinner --drink that you hope it may not be the last."

"Sir Edward Moseley, and you honourable gentlemen, will pardon me," replied the steward, in his solemn keys, "this is the first time I was ever out of his majesty's county of Norfolk, and I devoutly wish it may prove the last--Gentlemen, I drink your honourable healths."

This was the only real speech the old man made during his visit, unless an occasional monosyllabic reply to a question could be thought so. He remained, by Sir Edward's positive order, until the following day; for having delivered his message, and received its answer, he was about to take his departure that evening, thinking he might get a good piece on his road homeward, as it wanted a half an hour yet to sundown. On the following

morning, with the sun, he was on his way to the house in which he had been born, and which he had never left fortwenty-four hours at a time, in his life.

In the evening, as he was ushered in by John (who had known him from his own childhood, and loved to show him attentions) to the room in which he was to sleep, he broke, what the young man called, his inveterate silence, with, "young Mr. Moseley--young gentleman--might I presume--to ask--to see the gentleman."

"What gentleman?" cried John, in astonishment, both at the request, and his speaking so much.

"That saved Miss Emmy's life, sir." John now fully comprehended him, and led the way to Denbigh's room; he was asleep, but they were admitted to his bed-side; the steward stood for good ten minutes, gazing on the sleeper in silence; and John observed, as he blew his nose, on regaining his own apartment, his little gray eyes twinkled with a lustre, that could not be taken for any thing but a tear.

As the letter was as characteristic of the writer, as its bearer was of his vocation, we may be excused giving it at length.

"Dear Sir Edward and Nephew,

"Your letter reached the lodge too late to be answered that evening, as I was about to step into my bed; but I hasten to write my congratulations; remembering the often repeated maxim of my kinsman Lord Gosford, that letters should be answered immediately; indeed, a neglect of it had very nigh brought about an affair of honour between the earl and Sir Stephens Hallett. Sir Stephens was always opposed to us in the house of commons of this realm; and I have often thought it might have been something passed in the debate itself, which commenced the correspondence, as the earl certainly told him as much, as if he were a traitor to his king and country.

"But it seems that your daughter Emily, has been rescued from death, by the grandson of General Denbigh, who sat with us in the house--Now I always had a good opinion of this young Denbigh, who reminds me every time I look at him, of my late brother, your father-in-law, that was; and I send my steward, Peter Johnson, express to the hall, in order that he may see the sick man, and bring me back a true account of how he fares; for should he be wanting for any thing within the gift of Roderic Benfield, he has only to speak to have it; not that I suppose, nephew, you will willingly allow him to suffer for any thing, but Peter is a man of close observation, although he is of few words, and may suggest something beneficial, that

might escape younger heads-- I pray for--that is, I hope, the young man will recover, as your letter gives great hopes, and if he should want any little matter to help him along in his promotion in the army, as I take it he is not over wealthy, youor a life of service, could entitle me to receive." The baronet smiled his assent to a request he already understood, and Denbigh withdrew.

John Moseley had insisted on putting the bays into requisition to carry Denbigh for the first stage, and they now stood caparisoned for the jaunt, with their master in a less joyous mood than common, waiting the appearance of his companion.

Emily delighted in their annual excursion to Benfield Lodge; she was beloved so warmly, and returned the affection of its owner so sincerely, that the arrival of the day never failed to excite that flow of spirits which generally accompanies anticipated pleasures, ere experience has proved how trifling are the greatest enjoyments the scenes of this life bestow. Yet as the day of their departure drew near, her spirits sunk in proportion, and on the morning of Denbigh's leave-taking, Emily seemed any thing but excessively happy; there was a tremour in her voice, and redness about her eyes, that alarmed Lady Moseley with the apprehension she had taken cold; but as the paleness of her cheeks were immediately succeeded with as fine a brilliancy of colour, as the heart could wish, the anxious mother allowed herself to be persuaded by Mrs. Wilson, there was no danger, and accompanied her sister to her own room for some purpose of domestic economy. It was at this moment Denbighentered; he had paid his adieus to the matrons at the door, and been directed by them to the little parlour in quest of Emily.

"I have come to make my parting compliments, Miss Moseley," said he, in a tremulous voice, as he ventured to hold forth his hand; "may heaven preserve you," he continued, holding it in fervour to his bosom, and then dropping it, he hastily retired, as if unwilling to trust himself any longer to utter all he felt. Emily stood a few moments, pale, and almost inanimate, as the tears flowed rapidly from her eyes, and then sought a shelter in a seat of the window for her person and her sorrows. Lady Moseley, on returning, was again alarmed lest the draught would increase her indisposition; but her sister, observing that the window commanded a view of the road, thought the air too mild to do her injury.

The personages who composed the society at B--, had now, in a great measure, separated, in pursuit of their duties or their pleasures. The merchant and his family left the deanery for a watering place. Francis and Clara had gone on a little tour of pleasure in the northern counties, to take L-- in their return homeward; and the morning arrived for the commencement of the baronet's journey to the same place. The carriages had been ordered, and servants were running in various ways, busily employed in their several occupations, when Mrs. Wilson, accompanied by John and his sisters, returned from a walk they had taken to avoid the bustle of the house. A short distance from the park gates, an equipage was observed approaching, creating by its numerous horses and attendants, a dust which drove the pedestrians to one side of the road; an uncommonly elegant and admirably fitted travelling barouche and six rolled by, with the graceful steadiness of an English equipage; several servants on horseback were in attendance, and our little party were struck with the beauty of the whole establishment.

"Can it be possible, Lord Bolton drives such elegant horses," cried John, with the ardour of a connoisseur in that noble animal; "they are the finest set in the kingdom."

Jane's eye had seen, through the clouds of dust, the armorial bearings, which seemed to float in the dark glossy pannels of the carriage, and answered, "it is an earl's coronet, but they are not the Bolton arms." Mrs.

Wilson and Emily had noticed a gentleman reclining at his ease, as the owner of the gallant show; but its passage was too rapid to enable them to distinguish the features of the courteous old earl; indeed, Mrs. Wilson remarked, she thought him a younger man than her friend.

"Pray, sir," said John, to a tardy groom, as he civilly walked his horse by the ladies, "who has passed us in the barouche?"

"My Lord Pendennyss, sir."

"Pendennyss!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, with a tone of regret, "how unfortunate!" she had seen the day named for his visit pass without his arrival, and now, as it was too late to profit by the opportunity, he had come for the second time into her neighbourhood. Emily had learnt by the solicitude of her aunt, to take an interest in the young peer's movements, and desired John to ask a question or two of the groom.

"Where does your lord stop, to-night?"

"At Bolton Castle, sir, and I heard my lord tell his valet that he intended staying one day hereabouts, and on the day after the morrow he goes to Wales, your honour."

"I thank you, friend," said John; and the man spurred his horse after the cavalcade. The carriages were at the door, and Sir Edward had been hurrying Jane to enter, as a servant, in a rich livery, and well mounted, galloped up and delivered a letter for Mrs. Wilson, who on opening it read the following:

"The Earl of Pendennyss begs leave to present his most respectful compliments to Mrs. Wilson, and the family of Sir Edward Moseley--Lord Pendennyss will have the honour of paying his respects in person at any moment that the widow of his late invaluable friend, lieutenant-general Wilson, will please to appoint.

"Bolton Castle, Friday evening."

To this note Mrs. Wilson, bitterly regretting the necessity which compelled her to forego the pleasure of meeting her paragon, wrote in reply a short letter, disliking the formality of a note.

"My Lord,

"I sincerely regret, that an engagement which cannot be postponed, compels us to leave Moseley Hall within the hour, and must, in consequence, deprive us of the pleasure of your intended visit. But as circumstances have connected your lordship with some of the dearest, although the most melancholy events of my life, I earnestly beg you will no longer consider us as strangers to your person, as we have long ceased to be to your character. It will afford me the greatest pleasure to hear that there will be a prospect of our meeting in town this winter, where I may find a more fitting opportunity of expressing those grateful feelings so long due to your lordship, from your sincere friend,

"Charlotte Wilson. "Moseley Hall, Friday morning."

With this answer the servant was despatched, and the carriages moved on. John had induced Emily to trust herself once more to the bays and his skill; but on perceiving the melancholy of her aunt, she insisted on exchanging seats with Jane, who had accepted a place in the carriage of Mrs. Wilson. Noobjection being made, Mrs. Wilson and her niece rode the first afternoon together in her travelling chaise. The road run within a quarter of a mile of Bolton Castle, and the ladies endeavoured in vain to get a glimpse of the person of the young nobleman. Emily was willing to

gratify her aunt's propensity to dwell on the character and history of her favourite, and hoping to withdraw her attention gradually from more unpleasant recollections, asked several trifling questions relating to those points.

"The earl must be very rich, aunt, from the style he maintains."

"Very, my dear; his family I am unacquainted with, but I understand his title is an extremely ancient one; and some one, I belive Lord Bolton, mentioned that his estates in Wales alone, exceeded fifty thousand a year."

"Much good might be done," said Emily thoughtfully, "with such a fortune."

"Much good is done," cried her aunt with fervour. "I am told by every one who knows him, his donations are large and frequent. Sir Herbert Nicholson said he was extremely simple in his habits, and it leaves large sums at his disposal every year."

"The bestowal of money is not always charity," said Emily with an arch smile and slight colour. Mrs. Wilson smiled in her turn as she answered, "not always, but it is charity to hope for the best." "Sir Herbert knew him then?" said Emily--"Perfectly well; they were associated together in the service for several years, and he spoke of him with a fervour equal to my warmest expectations." The Moseley arms in F--, was kept by an old butler of the family, and Sir Edward every year, going and coming to L--, spent a night under its roof. He was received by its master with a respect that none who ever knew the baronet well, could withhold from his goodness of heart and many virtues."

"Well, Jackson," said the baronet kindly as he was seated at the supper table, "how does custom increase with you--I hope you and the master of the Dun Cow are more amicable than formerly."

"Why, Sir Edward," replied the host, who had lost a little of the deference of the servant in the landlord, but none of his real respect, "Mr.

Daniels and I are more upon a footing of late than we was, when your goodness enabled me to take the house; then he got all the great travellers, and for more than a twelvemonth I had not a title in my house but yourself and a great London doctor, that was called here to see a sick person in the town. He had the impudence to call me the knight, barrowknight, your honour, and we had a quarrel upon that account."

"I am glad, however, to find you are gaining in the rank of your customers, and trust,as the occasion has ceased, you will be more inclined

to be good-natured to each other."

"Why, as to good-nature, Sir Edward, I lived with your honour ten years, and you must know somewhat of my temper," said Jackson, with the self-satisfaction of an approving conscience; "but Sam Daniels is a man who is never easy unless he is left quietly at the top of the ladder; however,"

continued the host, with a chuckle, "I have given him a dose lately."

"How so, Jackson?" inquired the baronet, willing to gratify the man's evident wish to relate his triumphs.

"Your honour must have heard mention made of a great lord, one Duke of Derwent; well, Sir Edward, about six weeks agone he past through with my Lord Chatterton."

"Chatterton!" exclaimed John, interrupting him, "has he been so near us again, and so lately?"

"Yes, Mr. Moseley," replied Jackson with a look of importance; "they dashed into my yard with their chaise and four, with five servants, and would you think it, Sir Edward, they had'nt been in the house ten minutes, before Daniel's son was fishing from the servants, who they were; I told him, Sir Edward ---dukes don't come every day."

"How came you to get his grace away from the Dun Cow--chance?"

"No, your honour," said the host, pointing to his sign, and bowing reverently to hisold master, "the Moseley Arms did it. Mr. Daniels used to taunt me with having worn a livery, and has said more than once he could milk his cow, but that your honour's arms would never lift me into a comfortable seat for life; so I just sent him a message by the way of letting him know my good fortune, your honour."

"And what was it?"

"Only that your honour's arms had shoved a duke and a baron into my house---that's all."

"And I suppose Daniels' legs shoved your messenger out of his house,"

said John with a laugh.

"No, Mr. Moseley; Daniels would hardly dare do that: but yesterday, your honour, yesterday evening, beat every thing. Daniels was seated before his door, and I was taking a pipe at mine, Sir Edward, as a coach and six, with servants upon servants, drove down the street; it got near us, and the boys were reining the horses into the yard of the Dun Cow, as the gentleman in the coach saw my sign: he sent a groom to inquire who kept the house; I got up your honour, and told him my name, sir. Mr. Jackson,

said his lordship, my respect for the family of Sir Edward Moseley is too great not to give my custom to an old servant of his family."

"Indeed," said the baronet; "pray who was my lord?"

"The Earl of Pendennyss, your honour.Oh, he is a sweet gentleman, and he asked all about my living with your honour, and about madam Wilson."

"Did his lordship stay the night," inquired Mrs. Wilson, excessively gratified at a discovery of the disposition manifested by the earl towards her.

"Yes, madam, he left here after breakfast."

"What message did you send the Dun Cow this time, Jackson?" cried John laughing. Jackson looked a little foolish, but the question being repeated, he answered--"Why, sir, I was a little crowded for room, and so your honour, so I just sent Tom across the street, to know if Mr. Daniels could'nt keep a couple of the grooms."

"And Tom got his head broke."

"No, Mr. John, the tankard missed him; but if---"

"Very well," cried the baronet, willing to change the conversation,

"you have been so fortunate of late, you can afford to be generous; and I advise you to cultivate harmony with your neighbour, or I may take my arms down, and you may lose your noble visiters---see see my room prepared."

"Yes, your honour," said the host, and bowing respectfully, he withdrew.

"At least, aunt," cried John pleasantly, "we have the pleasure of supping in the same room with the puissant earl, albeit there be twenty-four hours difference in the time."

"I sincerely wish there had not been that difference," observed his father, taking his sister kindly by the hand.

"Such an equipage must have been a harvest indeed to Jackson,"

remarked the mother; and they broke up for the evening.

The whole establishment at Benfield Lodge were drawn up to receive them on the following day in the great hall, and in the centre was fixed the upright and lank figure of its master, with his companion in leanness, honest Peter Johnson, on his right.

"I have made out, Sir Edward and my Lady Moseley, to get as far as my entrance to receive the favour you are conferring upon me. It was a rule

in my day, and one invariably practised by all the great nobility, such as Lord Gosford---and---and---his sister, the lady Juliana Dayton, always to receive and quit their guests in the country at the great entrance; and in conformity---ah, Emmy dear," cried the old gentleman, folding her in his arms as the tears rolled down his cheek, and forgetting his speech in the warmth of his feeling, "you are saved to us again; God be praised---there, that will do, let me breathe---let let me breathe"---and then by the way of getting rid of his softer feelings, he turned upon John; "so, youngster, you would be playing with edge tools, and put the life of your sister in danger.

No gentlemen held a gun in my day; that is, no gentlemen about the court.

My Lord Gosford had never killeda bird in his life, or drove his horse; no sir, gentlemen then were not coachmen. Peter, how old was I before I took the reins of the chaise, in driving round the estate---the time you had broke your arm; it was--"

Peter, who stood a little behind his master, in modest retirement, and who had only thought his elegant form brought thither to embellish the show, when called upon, advanced a step, made a low bow, and answered in his sharp key:

"In the year 1798, your honour, and the 38th of his present majesty, and the 64th year of your life, sir, June the 12th, about meridian." Peter had dropped back as he finished; but recollecting himself, regained his place with a bow, as he added, "new style."

"How are you, old style?" cried John, with a slap on the back, that made the steward jump again.

"Mr. John Moseley---young gentleman"---a a term Peter had left off using to the baronet within the last ten years, "did you think---to to bring home---the goggles?"

"Oh yes," said John gravely, and he produced them from his pocket, most of the party having entered the parlour, and put them carefully on the bald head of the steward--- "There Mr. Peter Johnson, you have your property again. safe and sound."

"And Mr. Denbigh said he felt much indebted to your consideration in sendingthem," said Emily soothingly, as she took them off with her beautiful hands.

"Ah Miss Emmy," said the steward with one of his best bows, "that was---a noble act; God bless him;" and then holding up his finger

significantly, "but the fourteenth codicil---to master's will," and Peter laid his finger alongside his nose, as he nodded his head in silence,

"I hope the thirteenth contains the name of honest Peter Johnson," said the young lady, who felt herself uncommonly well pleased with the steward's conversation just then.

"As witness, Miss Emmy---witness to all---but but God forbid," said the steward with solemnity, "I should ever live to see the proving of them; no, Miss Emmy, master has done for me what he intended, while I had youth to enjoy it. I am rich, Miss Emmy---good good three hundred a year."

Emily, who had seldom heard as long a speech as the old man's gratitude drew from him, expressed her pleasure to hear it, and shaking him kindly by the hand, left him for the parlour.

"Niece," said Mr. Benfield, having scanned the party closely with his eyes, "where is Colonel Denbigh?"

"Colonel Egerton, you mean, sir," interrupted Lady Moseley.

"No, my Lady Moseley," replied her uncle with great formality, "I mean Colonel Denbigh. I take it he is a colonel by this time,"looking expressively at the baronet; "and who is fitter to be a colonel or a general, than a man who is not afraid of gunpowder."

"Colonels must have been scarce in your youth, sir," cried John, who had rather a mischievous propensity to start the old man on his hobby.

"No, jackanapes, gentlemen killed one another then, although they did not torment the innocent birds: honour was as dear to a gentleman of George the second's court, as to those of his grandson's, and honesty too, sirrah--ay, honesty. I remember when we were in, there was not a man of doubtful in, tegrity in the ministry, or on our side even; and then again, when we went out, the opposition benches were filled with sterling characters, making a parliament that was correct throughout; can you show me such a thing at this day?