"To be teased with such an insolent scoundrel at such a moment as this!" thought the peer, as he strode hastily to his usual sitting-room: "it is insufferable! I have a great mind to order the villains that let him in to horsewhip him out again for their pains: I believe that they will some day drive me mad among them!" And stamping his foot upon the ground, as was his custom when very angry, he clenched his thin hand as if he would have struck the object of his indignation. Suddenly, however, stopping in the midst of his passion, he fell into deep thought, which kept him standing in the middle of the room for two or three minutes; then approaching the bell, he rang it calmly. His own valet, whose peculiar province was to attend to that especial sitting-room, appeared in less time than ordinary. "Is the gentleman who was in the little library gone?" demanded the peer.

"No, my lord," replied his laconic attendant.

"I shall dine in the larger room to-day," said Lord Dewry: "bid Mr. Scott have the table laid for two, and tell le Chef that the dinner must be different."

The man bowed, and withdrew; and the peer, after pausing for a single moment where he was, re-opened the door, and proceeded through the neighbouring gallery to a vestibule, whence his eye could rest upon the door of the room in which he had left Sir Roger Millington. Here again, however, he paused even for several minutes; and then, raising his head, which had been sunk somewhat upon his bosom, he walked on with a calm, dignified step towards the room which he had quitted not a quarter of an hour before in such great indignation. Sir Roger Millington was seated exactly in the chair which had received his person when the peer left him, and was deeply, and apparently pleasantly, engaged with the book he had taken up. So perfectly comfortable, indeed, did he seem to have made himself, that Lord Dewry, notwithstanding strong determinations to the contrary--the motives of which will be explained immediately--could scarcely refrain from kicking him through the glass door into the park. He conquered his passion, however; and, in a tone which was very different from that which he had used towards the same person a quarter of an hour before, but which was still sufficiently guarded by haughty coldness to prevent the transition from appearing excessively abrupt, he addressed his visiter once more. "Sir Roger Millington," he said, "I am glad to find that you are not gone; for a little reflection makes me regret having treated a former acquaintance somewhat hastily: but the truth is, your arrival has occurred at a moment when I am not only extremely busy, but also when my feelings have been irritated and hurt by various occurrences, which may in some degree have made me forget my courtesy."

"Come, come," thought Sir Roger Millington, "matters are improving! some fools would have gone away ashamed or affronted! There is nothing like knowing when to keep one's ground--when to beat a retreat! My lord," he continued, aloud, "it gives me the greatest pain to think that I have intruded upon you at such a moment: but I am quite ready to repair my fault by retiring! only requesting your lordship to name some hour to-morrow when I can have the honour of conversing with you on matters of some importance."

"Of importance to yourself or to me, Sir Roger?" demanded the peer, forcing a half-smile; though there had been something in the pertinacity with which his visiter had held his ground that made him almost apprehend that these matters of importance might refer, in some unpleasant manner, to himself.

Had Sir Roger Millington had the slightest means whatever of showing that the matters of which he had to speak were in any degree relative to the peer, he would have ventured the assertion that they were of importance to him; but as he had not, he judged it expedient to be candid in the more placable mood which his noble host now displayed; and he accordingly answered, "Of more importance to myself, my lord, I am afraid, than to you."

It was a lucky hit, however; for this proceeding not only quieted all Lord Dewry's apprehensions, but also favoured his views in other respect.

"I am glad to hear it, Sir Roger," replied the baron; "for, to say the truth, I have important business of my own enough upon my hands to tire me of it; and I would rather speak upon any one else's affairs than have any more of myself. But you must not think of leaving the hall, though I am afraid I must be absent from you a considerable part of the day. I shall expect the pleasure of your company for a few days, and I will order my servant to conduct you to your apartments. You must amuse yourself as best you may till the evening. Here are books enough, you see, if you have turned student; and if you are still fond of field-sports, the gamekeeper will show you where you may find plenty of game. Use the house as your own, I beg; but only excuse the master of it for a few hours."

"My lord, your lordship is too good, too kind," replied his companion, bowing low and lower; "but--"

"Oh, I understand," said the peer; "you have ridden here, and have not dressing materials: never mind, we will cast away ceremony, Sir Roger."

"But if any one could be sent over to the village of Barholm, my lord," said Sir Roger, "since your lordship is so very good, they would find my valise at the inn."

"Certainly, certainly," said the peer, increasing in courtesy at every response--"certainly; we will see about it directly." And he rang the bell once or twice with that air of good-will which was well calculated to wipe away the memory of any former coldness. "Richard," he said, as soon as a servant appeared, "send over the errand-boy on horseback directly to Barholm, and bid him inquire for the things Sir Roger Millington has left there at the inn. Bid the groom look to Sir Roger's horse, and then come here to show him to the yellow room. Attend upon him while he does me the pleasure of remaining here, and see that everything is supplied properly.--Now, Sir Roger, I must beg you to excuse me for a short time, but I shall have the pleasure of seeing you at dinner."

Sir Roger bowed low: the peer withdrew; and the servant, saying, "I will be back in a minute, sir, to show you to your apartments," followed, to give the orders he had received to the errand-boy and the under-groom.

Sir Roger Millington cast himself back into his chair, mentally declaring, "'Pon my soul, he seems a devilish good fellow, after all; somewhat hasty, and hellish proud, but better at bottom than he lets himself appear. I should not wonder if this card, which, by----, is the last in my hand, should turn up a trump, after all. Egad, that would be queer!"

Such were his first reflections; and he had not time to proceed much beyond them when the servant reappeared, and begged him to follow. The visiter immediately complied; and walking through a suite of handsome rooms, where gold lace, and damask, and pictures, and cabinets, and brass, and tortoise-shell, and marble, combined to form a very dazzling assemblage of furniture and decorations, he was led up a fine flight of stairs to another story, where, through corridors scarcely less handsomely garnished than the apartments below, he was conducted, murmuring, "What a splendid house!" to a spacious bedroom and dressing-room, adorned with yellow damask hangings, and supplied with everything at which luxury had yet arrived in the days whereof we speak. Here, after asking his further commands, the servant left him, and Sir Roger Millington threw himself on one of the sofas, asking, "Well, what the devil can the fellow want? for want something he certainly does. However, no matter; all the better for me. I'm the man for his money, whatever he wants; and, by Jupiter! I'll take good care not to quarrel with the sort of bread and butter that is to be got in this house!"

Leaving Sir Roger Millington to speculate upon such very natural propositions, we may as well follow the peer once more to his private room, and endeavour to ascertain the cause of a change in his demeanour towards the poor knight, which had been, as we have seen, no less sudden than complete.

No sooner had he entered the chamber than he closed the door, and bolted it; approached a small iron chest, which stood riveted to the floor and to the wall, and, opening it with a key which was attached to a strong gold chain round his neck, he folded his arms upon his breast, and gazed in for a moment, biting his lip and straining his eye as if it required no small powers of self-command to proceed any farther. He then drew forth a large holster-pistol, richly embossed with silver--the fellow to that which had been placed in the hands of Edward de Vaux by the gipsy Pharold--and held it for a time in his hand, with his eyes not fixed upon it, but upon some far object in the distant landscape, which nevertheless, he saw not in the least; for the intensity of the mind's occupation at that moment had broken for the time the connection between the intellectual soul and her servants, the corporal senses; so that his eye was as blind to the things on which it was fixed as if it had been seared by lightning. His thoughts were far away--in other years and in other scenes; and as he laid the weapon down upon a chair beside him, he murmured, "It must have fallen into the river, or it would have been found with the hat."

He then sought for a moment among some papers, from which he selected one; and replacing every thing in the chest as it had been before, turned to the table and gazed upon the sheet, which seemed alone filled with memoranda of dates and numbers that certainly could possess no meaning to any eye but his own. To him, however, their import seemed of great consequence; for again and again he studied them; and ever and anon the contemplation would plunge him into deep fits of thought, from which he only roused himself again to gaze upon the figures as before.

"It will do," he said at length, "it will do; but I must take care of what I am about. Yet of this Roger Millington there is no fear. He would at any time of his life have condemned his own soul for gold, and now he seems beggared and wretched enough. The other people can offer him nothing: I can offer him ease and luxury; and he will not only have no temptation to betray me, but every inducement to keep my secret till the grave closes over us both. And yet," he added, thoughtfully--"and yet I must not put it in his power ever to annoy me hereafter. He must rest in my power rather than I in his. Yet if we can silence this Pharold for ever, all real danger will be past; and I must risk something--I must risk much, for that object."

Such were some of the thoughts which passed through the mind of Lord Dewry; nor were his conclusions formed upon a very wrong estimate of the character of his present visiter. The better qualities of Sir Roger Millington were few. The best of them was personal courage, or rather that total thoughtlessness in regard to death, and what is to follow death, which in many men supplies the place of a nobler principle. He had always, too, been what is called generous; and he did, indeed, possess that curious combination of qualities which makes a man pillage and ruin the father of a family, and thus bring want, destruction, and desolation upon a whole household, while at the same time he is willing, on every occasion, to share the ill-gotten wealth of the moment with any one who needs it. His generosity, however, still more displayed itself in wasting, among debauchees like himself, whatever he possessed, and thinking no means ignoble to dissipate what he had thought no means dishonourable to obtain.

Born of a good family, introduced early into the best society, and placed, as a military man, in a situation which should have acted rather to strengthen honourable principles than to lead him from them, he had at first, so long as the actual war lasted, gained some credit and renown as a soldier; but no sooner had a peace succeeded than various gambling transactions, of a somewhat doubtful character, rendered it expedient that he should quit the service. This he was permitted to do without disgrace; but from that hour his progress had been downwards in fortune and society. He had first mingled with gentlemen upon equal terms; and during the greater part of his acquaintance with Lord Dewry had kept himself on the same footing with his companions, by keeping up the same expenses, and by indulging the same vices. He was often very successful at play; and, though it was reported that his scruples were not very great in regard to the experience or the sobriety of those with whom he sat down, as his winnings enabled him, generally, to live in luxury and splendour, there were few found to object to the means of acquirement. He sometimes lost, however; and, as on one or two occasions his losses had been to persons of greater wealth than courage, he was said to have discharged his debt by lending the use of his sword in some of the numerous disputes which vice and debauchery entail upon their disciples.

All these things were suspected; but still Sir Roger Millington was not, on that account, shut out from society. Some people merely thought that in him they knew where to find a serviceable man when they wanted such a thing; and others did not choose to quarrel with one who was in better repute at the Park or the back of Montague House, the two great resorts of duellists in that day, than in St. James's-street. Gambling, however, is always a losing trade; and, by slow degrees, and with many a brief revival of fortune, Sir Roger Millington was forced down lower and lower in the scale of reputation and estate. It must be a very honourable spirit, indeed, that poverty renders more scrupulous; and such was certainly not the case with Sir Roger Millington. The means of obtaining money seemed to him all honourable if they led him not to Tyburn; and, at length, he would fight with or for any man for a very trifling consideration. By this trade, varied, where he found it necessary, by sycophancy or by impudence, he contrived for some time to keep himself up, till at length some one of his adversaries, more wise than the rest, took courage to refuse to cross swords with a bully and a sharper, horsewhipped Sir Roger when he posted him, fought and wounded the first man of honour that looked cold on him for his conduct, and left Sir Roger Millington no resource but to quit the circles in which he had been formerly received.

These circumstances had occurred about two years before the knight's visit to Lord Dewry; and it would be more painful and disgusting than amusing or instructive to follow him through the shifts and turnings of the succeeding months. At length the happy thought struck him which we have seen him execute; and with a horse, the last of a once splendid stud, a valise containing all that remained of his wardrobe, three guineas, and some silver in his purse, a vast stock of impudence, and a packet of the peer's old letters, he set out to see whether he could wring anything either from the weakness or the kindness of Lord Dewry, from whom he had won, in former days, many a sum which he now sighed to think upon.

He came, as we have seen, at the very moment when the assistance of such a person as himself, who was not in the least scrupulous either in regard to oaths or dangers, was likely to prove most serviceable to the peer, provided that any bonds could be invented, so close and clinging as to restrain a man who had never yet been bound by any principles of religion, morality, or honour. On their meeting, the uses to which he might be put had not at first struck Lord Dewry, and he had given way to the irritable impatience natural to his character: but the last words of Sir Roger Millington concerning Sir William Ryder, had struck a chord of association which soon awoke other ideas; and before the peer had reached his own room he had seen and comprehended the variety of services which Sir Roger might render him.

Thought, however, was required, both to arrange and give a tangible form to plans which were yet vague and undefined; and to devise means of so guarding against the very agent he was about to employ as not to fall into a new danger in striving to escape an old one. Men who have involved themselves in the dark work of crime, like those employed in forging red-hot iron, are obliged to touch the objects of their labour with tools of steel, lest they should burn themselves with the bolts they forge. After much thought, however, Lord Dewry believed that he saw means of rendering Sir Roger Millington, not only obedient to his every wish, but faithful also; and though the plans in which he was to be employed, of course required long and intense consideration, the new views that opened before the peer gave him so much comfort that he heard the dressing-bell ring, long before he had expected it, without any feelings but those of renewed security and anticipated triumph over those who had before caused him so much doubt and apprehension.

Now Lord Dewry was a shrewd and strong-minded man, who, as far as a violent and proud disposition, and very uncontrollable passions, would let him, generally acted upon a regularly-arranged and well-considered system in every thing he undertook: but it is extraordinary how often a man acts upon system without knowing it; for, after all, as before said, we are but mere puppets, body and mind, in the hands of our desires. Lord Dewry had ordered the beggared and threadbare Sir Roger Millington to be taken to one of the most splendid apartments in his splendid house; he had ordered such an intimation to be given to the cook as would place upon the table a rich and luxurious repast; he had directed that repast to be spread in a room full of magnificence; and now he dressed himself with scrupulous care and elegance, without at all being aware that it was all part of a system to re-awaken in the bosom of the penniless knight that thirst for luxury and ease which would render him most willingly and eagerly the tool of him who could bestow it. So it was, however; and though pride had her word too, and told his lordship that such display would make his visiter more humble and respectful, yet the principal object was to show him how many pleasant and desirable things might be obtained by being the very humble and most devoted servant of the noble lord.

Had Lord Dewry sat and calculated for an hour what system was most likely to produce the desired effect upon a man of the peculiar mental and bodily idiosyncrasy of Sir Roger Millington, he could not have more happily adapted his actions to the circumstances. In his high and plumy days of fortune, Sir Roger Millington had learned to love and delight in every good thing of the earth that we inhabit; and in his days of debasement and poverty he had equally learned to admire and bow down to, in others, the possession of those things which had given him so much pleasure when he possessed them himself. The soft tread of the Turkey carpets, the sight of damask, and lace, and or-molu, an accidental whiff of the distant kitchen, as he passed the top of a back staircase--a whiff faint and fragrant as if it came from "the spice islands in the south"--the very feel of the sofa on which he sat, were all so many arguments in favour of any plan, action, or idea which Lord Dewry could possibly suggest; and when, after having received his goods and chattels from the village, selected the best of his wardrobe, and made himself look, as he could do, perfectly gentlemanly, he descended to the drawing-room, it was with an impression of the greatest possible respect and admiration for the talents, sentiments, feelings, thoughts, and virtues of his noble entertainer.

He was almost immediately joined by the peer, who was surprised but not sorry to see his guest look so much like a gentleman; for though he sincerely desired that he should be such at heart as to do his unscrupulous bidding unscrupulously, yet he was quite willing to have him such, in appearance, as would excite neither wonder nor animadversion.

Hasty as the peer was by nature, and eager as he was in the present instance, he had acquired sufficient command over himself to reserve any more open communication with Sir Roger till a more proper moment; although, had he given way to the impulse of his own heart, he would have entered upon the business which occupied his thoughts at once. But he felt what an advantage such a course of action would confer upon his guest; and, therefore, without showing the slightest haste or impatience, he spoke a moment or two upon the weather, and the state of the nation, and the alarming increase of crime in the metropolis, and several other things, about which he cared not in the least, and then turned to some of the pictures that hung upon the walls, expatiating upon their various merits with as much learning as a connoisseur, and as much taste as an Agar Ellis. "Yes," he said, "that is a very fine picture, though not so valuable as it looks. It is by one of the disciples of Rubens, and artists believe the heads to be by Rubens himself. But I will show you a real treasure!" and approaching a small panel opposite, covered with two richly-carved and gilded doors, he opened them; and, drawing a silk curtain, displayed an inner frame containing a Madonna exquisitely painted. "That is an undoubted Correggio," he said; "and one of the most beautiful pictures that master ever painted. Remark the exquisite bend of that head, so full of grief and resignation. The beauty of the colouring, too--that tear upon the cheek, the faint pink of the nostril partaking slightly of the blue of the drapery, and the drapery itself, how masterly! Look here, too, at the hands crossed upon the breast! Did you ever behold such beautiful hands? so small and delicate, yet so soft and full! every thing graceful and light, yet every thing full of contour and correctness!"

The doors were thrown open while he still spoke, and dinner was announced; nor did Lord Dewry, during the whole course of the meal, deviate from the rule he had laid down, of hurrying his communication by neither word nor hint. The dinner itself was such as might be expected from his fortune and his habits--abundant, but not loaded, showing every delicacy that wealth could procure, and yet taking care that, as in the Palace of the Sun, the workmanship should excel the materials. The wines, however, surpassed every thing else; and that sort of nectar which is called, sec sillery once again greeted the palate of Sir Roger Millington, after many years of tedious interval. Sir Roger blessed the stars which had conferred so many good things on a man to whom he hoped to render service; for though he neither ate nor drank to excess, he enjoyed to the full, and saw the dessert placed upon the table only with the expectation of at length hearing how he might merit a participation in such blessings in future.

The best polished crystal, full of the liquid rubies of rich Medoc, was set upon the table; and the majestic butler drew off after the retiring footmen. Lord Dewry recommended the claret; and when he saw the glass filled, he opened his approaches cautiously.

"Now, Sir Roger," he said, "we have all the evening before us, without fear of interruption; and though I trust you will give me the pleasure of your company some days longer, yet, as you spoke of some matter which was of importance to you, it may be pleasanter to us both to get rid of the business at once, and devote the rest of our time to less weighty affairs."

Sir Roger had not prepared for this way of opening the campaign; and he felt some fear that any demand upon the purse of his noble host might banish him from a dwelling where he felt himself as yet quite comfortable. A moment's thought, however, reassured him; for, both from his general knowledge of the world, and his particular knowledge of the peer, he felt very sure that such a sudden transition from rudeness to hospitality, as we have heretofore recorded, could not have taken place without a motive--that motive he concluded to be a desire of reaping advantage from some of his numerous and pliant abilities; and he therefore perceived that the policy now was to make a bargain as best he might. All this train of argumentation was run over rapidly in his brain, and he then replied, "The fact is, my lord, that some of my old evil habits have, as your lordship may have anticipated, somewhat impaired my property, and put me to temporary difficulties. Such being the case, and being rather rudely pressed, I bethought me of your lordship's former kindness and liberality, and came down in haste to see whether I could not induce you to favour me with the loan of a small sum."

"A loan!" exclaimed the peer, raising his eyebrows as if something quite unexpected had broke upon his ear, though there was the dawning of a half-suppressed smile about his lip that contradicted his tone of surprise--"a loan! Ah, I dare say we can manage that matter, Sir Roger. But be candid with me; tell me the state of your finances: it shall not injure your views, upon my honour!"

"Bad enough, my lord, bad enough," replied his companion, candidly, and yet shrewdly; for he began to fancy that candour would be best: "bad enough, I am sorry to say. I have had a sad run against me, and have not been able to get over it."

"No heavy debts?" said the peer.

"No, upon my honour, no," replied Sir Roger; "I do not owe twenty pounds in the world; but I find a difficulty in getting one."

"That was always an extraordinary trait of yours, Millington," said the peer: "you were never in debt, though you spent a good deal, and played high."

"Because I always paid away my money as fast as I got it," replied his guest. "As soon as I had a sum, any one might have it that wanted it, whether a tradesman or a friend; and as I had large sums then," he added, with a sigh, "I was never long in debt."

This was, indeed, partly true of the times to which he referred, as the peer well knew; and the reason for his having few debts in later years was still more simple, though he mentioned it not--it was, that no one would trust him. Lord Dewry, however, seemed affected by his reference to old times, and replied, "Well, well, Sir Roger, we will not let you be hard pressed any longer. What is the sum you at present want?"

Sir Roger Millington hesitated between the fear of asking too much and asking too little; and he would have given the three guineas that graced his pocket willingly to have found out what service was to be demanded of him in return, that he might shape his request accordingly. "It cannot be to fight," he thought; "the fellow used to do all that business for himself, and devilish well, too! but, however, it must be some pitiful job, indeed, if it is not worth a couple of hundred. I'll ask fifty more.--Why, my lord," he said aloud, "the fact is, that two hundred and fifty pounds, I am afraid, will be requisite."

"Well, well," said Lord Dewry, who, thinking chiefly of Sir Roger's former style of living, had calculated upon a demand of at least double that amount--"well, well, that can be managed; and, upon my honour, it shall be managed: but now let us speak a little upon other matters."

"Now it comes!" thought Sir Roger Millington; but the peer proceeded,--"I have now promised you this sum unconditionally; but if you will explain to me more fully the real and particular state of your finances, perhaps we may strike out something that may prove ultimately still more beneficial to you--I mean permanently beneficial."

Sir Roger Millington sat with his eyes wide open, and the internal voice of his wonder would have been, could any one have heard it, "Why, what's the meaning of all this? is he going to turn out really generous, after all?" He had recourse to the claret jug, however, which soothed him wonderfully; and he answered, "Why, my lord, as I have already said, the state of my finances is bad--very bad! In short, my lord, there is nothing which your lordship can do to mend them that will not be most gratefully received by Roger Millington."

"We must think of it, Sir Roger; we must think of it well," replied the peer; "and you will find, Sir Roger, that no man will do more than I will to remove you from all difficulties, and put you at your ease. The worst point of the whole business is, I am afraid that all I can do for you is but for my own life. My estates are strictly entailed. I live up to my income; and I am afraid that with me would die anything that I could annually do for you."

"May your lordship live for ever!" replied Sir Roger, with more sincerity, perhaps, than ever courtier offered such an aspiration in favour of the kings of the Medes and Persians. "The truth is, my lord," he continued, "nothing can be worse than the state of my present fortunes. I certainly did not doubt being able to mend them with a little assistance; but if your lordship carries into execution your kind intentions in my favour, and mends them for me, all I can say is, that you shall find one man at least grateful in this world; and I hope also that your lordship will point out to me some means of aiding you in return, for the burden of my obligation to you will be greatly relieved by being able to show my zeal in your service."

"Oh, we will think of that hereafter," said Lord Dewry; "and as you are a man of taste and ingenuity, I have no doubt, Sir Roger, in the various changes and alterations which I am making here and at Dimden--I have no doubt that we shall be able to find you employment of a nature the most agreeable to your feelings and the most suitable to your mind. Nobody need know any thing of the pecuniary arrangements between us. You shall always be received here as a friend, and the rest of your days may pass in sunshine and enjoyment."

These were prospects bright indeed to the view of the impoverished knight; and as he felt that no services on his part would be too great or too unscrupulous to merit such reward, he very plainly gave his noble entertainer to understand that such was the case, and explained to him how willing he would be to undertake any task he chose to impose. This was the plainest speaking which had been held during the evening; and the peer was not sorry that it had come on the part of his guest, for he was anxious now to arrive at the point, and yet he decidedly wished that the way might be smoothed for him. He smiled most graciously, therefore, as he replied, "Well, well, Sir Roger, your offers shall soon be put to the proof. I have upon my hands, at the present moment, some business which is very difficult to manage; and as I know you to be both firm and skilful, I will request your assistance in it. But remember, I beg, that my object, as I shall explain to you immediately, is perfectly just and upright; and although the business wants a little shrewd management, yet it is one in which you may engage conscientiously."

"I doubt it not, my lord, I doubt it not," replied Sir Roger, who, perhaps, in all the variety of human actions, would have found very few in which, under his present circumstances, he would not have engaged quite conscientiously--"I doubt it not, my lord. Pray, proceed."

"Oh, it is a long story," answered the baron; "and before we proceed to that, let me ask you, Sir Roger, if you remember, with any degree of accuracy, the transactions which took place between you and me and Sir William Ryder, in regard to a large sum of money that we lost to you in the year 17--?"

"Perfectly, most perfectly, my lord," replied Sir Roger: "my memory never fails on such points; I could swear to every fact."

"Then, do you remember," said the peer, "receiving a note from me on the eighteenth of May, telling you that if you would wait another week I would pay you the whole sum at once, as my brother would be able by that time to call in money to lend me? and do you remember your coming to me the same evening to say that you were quite willing to wait, and our going out together to a party?"

"I remember it all accurately, my lord," replied the poor knight, to whom the recollection of days when the proud man before whom he now sat had been his debtor and his humble servant was too gratifying to be easily forgotten--"I remember it all well--every particular; but you are mistaken in the date, my lord: it was the nineteenth, not the eighteenth, of May."

"No, no; it is you who are mistaken, Sir Roger," replied the peer, with a meaning smile. "It was the eighteenth, I can assure you."

Sir Roger did not comprehend. "Indeed, my lord," he replied, "it was the nineteenth; I remember it from many circumstances. On that very morning the great bet had come off between Colonel Hammerstone and the Nailer, and--"

"Nay, nay, I am positive," said the peer, "from circumstances that I cannot forget either. It was the eighteenth day of May, in the year 17--."

"But, my lord, I have your lordship's own note," said Sir Roger, persevering.

"Have you so?" cried the peer. "I wish you would be so kind as to let me see it."

"Certainly, my lord; I will bring it in a moment," said Sir Roger; and, rising from his chair, he left the room, in order to bring the paper to which he referred. While he was gone, Lord Dewry sat silent and stern, with his hand over his eyes and the upper part of his face; but his lips, which were uncovered, moved as if he were speaking, and the working of the muscles of his cheeks seemed to indicate that he was in bodily pain. As soon as his guest returned, however, he withdrew his hand, and all was clear and smiling, except, perhaps, a slight contraction of the brow, and an anxious intensity of gaze in his eye, which had both become habitual. Sir Roger Millington resumed his place; and, laying down upon the table a bundle of papers which he carried, he selected one, and presented it to the peer, saying, "There, my lord, is the note."

Lord Dewry received it calmly, not only because he knew the contents exactly as well as Roger Millington, but because he felt perfectly satisfied that Sir Roger himself was secured--bound hand and foot his slave--by promises and expectations which no one else had the power or the necessity of holding out to him. The paper, though it bore the marks of age in the yellow hue of its complexion and the paleness of the ink, was in other respects well preserved; and the peer, unfolding it, perused it attentively, and still held it in his hand when he had done.

"I see, Sir Roger," he said, "that you are correct, as far as the dating of this note goes; but at the same time, I can assure you, I must have dated it wrong at the time by some unfortunate mistake, which mistake, by an unpleasant concatenation of circumstances, might prove of the greatest disadvantage to me at present, and might even deprive me of the power of assisting you in the way that I am so desirous of doing."

The master-key of self-interest instantly unlocked the door of Sir Roger Millington's understanding; and he now saw that some very strong motive must influence the peer in wishing to prove that the letter was written on a different day from that on which it was dated. He consequently determined at once that it should be written on any day whatsoever that his lordship thought fit; but, at the same time, having a due regard to the friable nature of promises, he extremely desired to make himself master of his noble friend's secret views, in order to have some check upon him hereafter. "Indeed, my lord," he replied, in a tone of much concern, "I am sorry to hear that the fact should be likely to produce such results. May I inquire how such an unfortunate state of things is likely to ensue from so simple a circumstance?"

"Oh, certainly," replied Lord Dewry, with somewhat of a sarcastic smile; "you may inquire, and I will answer you, Sir Roger: but then, if I do, I must, I am afraid, demand a bond for the two hundred and fifty pounds I am about to advance, as I must either have security for my money or my secrets--which you like, Sir Roger."

"Oh, then, my lord," replied Sir Roger Millington, inclining his head with a significant bow, "the matter is very simple. As I have no security to offer for the money, I will beg not to burden myself with your lordship's confidence any further than you think absolutely necessary; and in regard to the note which is likely to produce results so unlucky to both you and me--for I am fain to believe that my prosperity is now intimately connected with your lordship's--I think the best way to settle the matter will be to put it in the fire."

"I do not exactly know that," answered Lord Dewry, musing: "at all events, let me convince you first that it was written on the eighteenth, instead of the nineteenth."

"My lord, I am already convinced," said Sir Roger Millington, who, once having obtained the cue, could go on without the prompter--"I am already convinced: I see my mistake. I remember it was the day before the great walking bet came off, which was on the nineteenth, at Hounslow. Indeed, it is impossible that it could have been otherwise: for I was present on the ground all day; and if I was at Hounslow all day, I could not receive your note in London."

"True, true," said the peer; though he very well knew that the note which he had written after his return to town, the very day subsequent to his brother's death, had found Sir Roger just come back from Hounslow--"true, true, Sir Roger; and doubtless you could swear to all these facts, should it be necessary."

"Beyond all doubt, my lord," replied the knight, "circumstances crowd upon my memory which all tend to show that your lordship is right; and it must have been the mistaken date of the note which deceived me."

"Would it not, then, be advisable," demanded the peer, "to rectify the date which the note bears, instead of destroying it--hey, Sir Roger, hey?"

"Certainly, my lord, certainly," said Sir Roger; and then, dropping his voice, he added in a half-whisper, "if it can be done without the chance of discovery."

"Easily," replied the peer--"easily, Sir Roger: a little acid which I have in my library will take out the tail of the nine, without leaving a trace; there will then remain only a cipher, which I will alter to an eight; so that no one will see a difference between the writing of that figure and the rest of the letter. You and I, the only persons concerned in a private letter from me to you, are both convinced that the date ought to be so rectified; and no one else need know any thing about it."

"I am perfectly of your lordship's opinion," replied Sir Roger; "had it not better be done immediately?"

"With all my heart," replied the peer; "follow me, Sir Roger; we will return here, and conclude our claret when we have done."

The serviceable Sir Roger followed without another word to the peer's private room. A small bottle of acid was produced, which answered its object fully: the obnoxious figure was changed into a more convenient one with ink mingled with water, to render it of the same hue as the rest of the writing, and the most severe and practised eye could not have detected a change. When it was done, the peer and his confederate stood gazing upon the paper with very different feelings: Sir Roger, totally indifferent to all considerations of right and wrong in the matter, only wondering what was to come next, and desirous of knowing whether he himself was to resume possession of the letter, or whether his noble host intended to keep it for his own purposes; Lord Dewry feeling at his heart that blessed sensation of security which he had not known for twenty years.

The peer's next act was calmly to take his pocketbook from his pocket, and drawing forth five notes, amounting to the sum which Sir Roger had demanded, he laid them, one after another, down upon the paper which they had been corrupting; and then, taking up the whole packet, he put it into his companion's hand. "Sir Roger," he said, "I always like to be as good as my word, and often endeavour to prove myself better than my word. In regard to these notes," he added, seeing the knight about to pour forth thanks, "let us say no more about them; and in regard to this note," pointing to the one they had altered, "let me beg you to put it by carefully with the rest of my letters; and should you ever be called upon to produce it and speak about it, you will remember the fact accurately, that it was received by you on the eighteenth of May, the day before the great bet came off at Hounslow. Also, you will remember that you called upon me in answer to it, and that we sat together for half an hour. But it may be as well to forget, perhaps, that we went out in company to Hillier's party. Let all statements be as simple as possible, with no more circumstances than are necessary to show that you do really remember the facts. And now let us return to our claret, for we have more to talk of yet, both concerning your affairs and mine."

Sir Roger bowed low, promising to act exactly as he was instructed. "You know I have been a soldier, my lord," he said, "and am well aware of the necessity of obeying orders without the slightest variation."

The peer led the way back to the dining-room, and rang for more claret, though there was a good deal still upon the table; but the cause was, in truth, that he desired a moment or two to think further before he continued his conversation with Sir Roger Millington. His original design had been to employ him in a much more extensive and conclusive enterprise than he had hitherto broached to him; but in the very initiatory steps, the fact of the letter being still in existence, the facility which Sir Roger had shown in bending to his wishes, and the certainty of his following exactly the directions he had received, seemed to remove the necessity for further efforts. "I have now," thought the peer, "the most perfect and conclusive proof to adduce that I was in London on the very day of my brother's death; and granting that the oath of Sir Roger Millington may be somewhat doubted, on account of his established character, the letter--the letter is proof positive. Besides, what can be opposed to it but the oath of a gipsy and a gambler? neither of them worth more than his, if so much. The letter is conclusive. Perhaps it may be as well to let the gipsy alone; and yet it is not to be longer endured--this state of momentary apprehension of what the next minute is to produce. Nor can there be any doubt that, as soon as Pharold finds out this business in regard to the deer-stealing, which has gone too far by this time to be stayed, his first vengeance will be to tell all, and I may as well be prepared to cast the charge back upon himself. Besides, if I can crush him before the other arrives in England, I may set the whole world at defiance."

As he thought thus he drank a large glass of claret. There never yet was man who committed a great crime, and did not thenceforth feel that the predominant longing of his soul was, once more to be able to "sleep in spite of thunder." He drank another full glass; and then went on, determined to bring the struggle to an issue at once, now that he had all his preparations made, and was sure of the result.

"What we have just been speaking of, Sir Roger," he said, as the servant shut the door after setting down the claret, "brings to my mind our former acquaintance, Sir William Ryder. I should scarcely think that he proposes to come back again to this country, as you hinted this morning, considering that he left many a debt unpaid. Among other things, you know he was your debtor in the transaction of which we but now spoke, as well as myself, though not to the same amount; and you are doubtless also aware that I paid the whole debt. Pray, when did you hear from him?"

"I did not hear from him directly, my lord," replied the knight, "as we have, in fact, kept up no correspondence. I wrote to him, indeed, shortly after his departure, but he never answered my letter. But I saw a few days ago in an American paper, that the well-known Sir William Ryder was about to quit his dwelling at some strange named place in a few weeks, for the purpose of visiting England, in order to induce the government to take measures for the protection and instruction of the savage Indians."

A sneering smile curled the lip of the peer, but he made no observation upon the information he received. "Did you not go down with him to Holyhead, on his way to embark for America from some Irish port?" demanded Lord Dewry; "I think I have heard so."

"No, my lord, no," replied Sir Roger; "I met him at Holyhead by accident. I had just come over from Ireland, where I had been to settle a little affair with a man in Dublin. I lent Sir William one of my horses to go out to see some gipsies--what the devil business he had with them I could never tell--but the horse threw him and broke his ribs, and hurt himself into the bargain; but a gipsy fellow, the best farrier I ever saw, cured him in a week--the horse, I mean; but I believe they cured Sir William too, for I left him in their hands recovering fast; I myself being obliged to be at Newmarket before he could get out of his bed."

"I thought I remembered something of the transaction," said the peer. "Sir William Ryder, with whom I was in some correspondence at that time, in regard to the very debt of which we were speaking, wrote to me that he had seen you there, and mentioned the accident your horse had met with. But now tell me, Sir Roger, did you not receive from the gipsy farrier a bank-note, in change for money given him in payment?"

"No, my lord, not that I remember," said the knight; "faith, I have forgot what I gave him, and all about it."

"Recollect yourself, Sir Roger," said Lord Dewry; "I think, if you remember right, you will find that he gave you in change a note, which you afterward gave to me when we last settled our accounts together, about six months after I succeeded to this property."

"Nay, nay, my lord," said the knight, "your lordship is not right there: it was you gave me the money; I gave you none. It was a round sum, you know, my lord."

Lord Dewry bit his lip, and Sir Roger Millington could hear his foot stamp upon the carpet under the table with impatience at his contradiction. In truth, the noble lord did not at all desire to be driven to explanations, though, in fact, the dark and fearful scheme which his mind had formed for the purpose of delivering himself from all fear for ever was too deep and intricate to be understood by him whom he intended for his tool in accomplishing it, without a much fuller knowledge of the subject than the knight possessed.

"You do not understand me," cried the peer, hastily; "you will not understand me, Sir Roger! Mark me, now!" and then, after thinking for a moment, he proceeded in a stern, determined tone, and with a dark, contracted brow:--"You remember my succeeding to this property, Sir Roger; and you remember the circumstances of my brother's unfortunate death? The only person who saw the--the business was a gipsy; and at the time some circumstances made it appear so strongly probable that that gipsy had been himself the--the murderer, that Mr. Arden--old Mr. Arden, who is still living--wished to commit him. I, however, foolishly would believe nothing of the story, as this very gipsy had always been a protÉgÉ of my brother's, and he was liberated. A number of small particulars, however, afterward appeared to make me regret my obstinacy, and to convince me that the villain was really the assassin of my poor brother. I had him sought for in vain; and all the news I could learn of him was, that he had sailed from Holyhead for Ireland. There I lost sight of him, till a few days ago, when I suddenly met him in the park; and I have since learned that he is lingering about in the neighbourhood of my other place at Dimden. I have laid a trap for him: we shall catch him this very night; and, if it cost me half my fortune, I will bring him to justice."

"Your lordship is right, very right," exclaimed Sir Roger Millington; "but I do not see--"

"Listen to me, Sir Roger, and you shall see," replied the peer: "I doubt not that I shall be able to convict him; but if my recollections are right, and can be supported by yours, his conviction is certain. My brother at his death had a large sum of money on his person. One of those notes, marked with his name, in his own handwriting, has since come into my possession; and I am sure that I received it from you, while I feel almost sure that you received it from the gipsy!" He spoke the last words slowly and emphatically, and then added, rapidly and sternly, "Now, what I want you to do, Sir Roger, is to recollect yourself, and--if you can remember the facts of your having received the note and given it to me--to be prepared to swear to those facts, should it be necessary."

Sir Roger Millington turned very pale. A light--a fearful light--had broken in upon him, and how far it served to guide his suspicions aright matters little. He was a man of few scruples, and vice and misery had both contributed to harden his heart; for though the uses of adversity maybe sweet when acting on a virtuous disposition, yet I am afraid that in this good world of ours the back of that great felon Vice only gets callous under the lash of affliction. Sir Roger Millington, however, had, as we have said, but few scruples of any kind; yet this thing that Lord Dewry now proposed to him was a step beyond the point at which he had arrived in all the course of evil and of folly that he had hitherto pursued. He had fought and had slain men in another man's quarrel, but in doing so he had perilled his own life, and the corporal risk had seemed in some degree to balance the moral culpability; but now he was asked to say and do things which, without any danger to himself, would conduct another to an ignominious death,--one against whom he had no enmity, whom he had never, perhaps, beheld, and of whose real guilt there was in his bosom many a terrible doubt. He felt that it was a fearful and an awful thing that he was called upon to do, and, in despite of the absence of all moral principle--of twenty years' hardening in vice, and of a long training in degradation and dishonour--he turned pale, he hesitated; and, forgetting all restraint, rose from his seat and walked once or twice up and down the room in evident agitation.

Lord Dewry saw how far he had committed himself. He saw that, notwithstanding all his caution, his words, having been spoken to one whom habitual vice had rendered familiar with all the wiles of crime, might have put his suspicions on a track from which they could never be withdrawn, and that although Sir Roger had him not, indeed, in his power, as the gipsy had, yet that no sacrifice would be too great to force him on to acts which would make his co-operation irretrievable. He suffered him then to pace the room for a single minute; and then rising, he placed himself opposite to him, and laid his hand on that of the knight. "Sir Roger," he said, "I am inclined to do much for you, but you know service must have service in return."

"But tell me, tell me, my lord," exclaimed the other, with some vehemence, "do you really believe that the note you speak of was ever in the possession of the gipsy?"

"I not only believe it, but I am sure of it," replied the peer. "Hear me, Sir Roger; I pledge you my honour, my soul, my word, this note which you now see, and which is marked with my brother's own hand, must have been in possession of the gipsy after my brother's death; and if it did not come to me from you, it must at all events have come through some one who received it of the gipsy." Nor in this assertion did he speak falsely; for the note was one of those which he had sent to the gipsy by Sir William Ryder, and which had accidentally returned to his own possession.

It is wonderful how easily men can sometimes satisfy their conscience. Sir Roger did not pause to ask any very minute explanation: the vehemence with which his noble entertainer spoke convinced him that in some sense he spoke sincerely; and he would have been very sorry, by any indiscreet question, to have discovered that there was any thing like a double meaning in the words. "Well, well," he said, "I think I do remember something of the transaction, my lord; and I doubt not that a few moments' thought will bring it all back clearly to my memory."

The peer pressed his hand. "Well, then, Sir Roger," he said, "so much for my affairs when they are all settled: hear what I wish to do for you. I propose to give you apartments in my house at Dimden, where you shall undertake to superintend all my improvements and works of taste, for which you will favour me by receiving a deed of annuity for one thousand per annum during my life. I am sorry that I cannot make it permanent, but I have not the power; all I can do can only last as long as my life lasts."

Bright, bright grew the eyes of Sir Roger Millington; and, bowing low before the peer, he uttered a few words of thanks, and cast himself back into his chair to enjoy the glad transition from a state of beggary and despair to the prospect of affluence and luxury such as he had never hoped to see again. All scruples were swallowed up in satisfaction; not even a shadow of them remained; and he was now only anxious to prove his zeal in those services which were to merit so noble a reward.

The peer had seated himself, also, with the note of which he spoke laid on the table before him; and it was not difficult for him to see that the feelings of the serviceable Sir Roger Millington were undergoing the exact sort of transition which he desired. He accordingly entered into further explanations; and Sir Roger, in his eagerness to merit the favour of so generous a patron, proposed of his own free will to write his name upon the note in such a manner as to give every apparent veracity to the recollections to which he was to swear.

"You will find the butler's pen and ink in the buffet," said the peer, in reply; "dip your pen first in the claret, Sir Roger, to make the ink look faint and old. Only put your name; no date--no date; never be too precise. Thank you--thank you: now he cannot escape me."

"But, my lord," said Sir Roger, "as I am to swear to the person of the gipsy from whom I received the note, will it not be better that I should see him first before he is taken up; so that I may identify him at once without any appearance of connivance?"

"That is, I am afraid, impossible," replied the peer; "for we have found out that he and his fellows have a design upon the deer in Dimden Park this very night, and a large party of keepers have been assembled to arrest them, so that between twelve and one they will all be prisoners. Otherwise it might have been better as you say."

"But there is time before that," said Sir Roger, looking at his watch, which--as the dinner hours of that day were very, very different from those of the present time--only pointed at seven even after this long conversation with the peer,--"there is time before that, my lord: how far is it to Dimden?"

"Fourteen miles at least," replied the peer.

"Lend me a strong horse, and I will be over by half-past eight," answered Sir Roger. "If I cannot get a sight of him by any other means, I will join the keepers privately, and as soon as ever the business is over, come back here; so that I may point out the fellow at once, if there should be twenty of them. What is his name, my lord? do you know?"

"Pharold, he is called," answered the peer, thoughtfully. "Your plan is good, but I am afraid it is too late. Let us take care that by trying to do too much we do not spoil all."

"Oh, no fear, no fear, my lord," replied Sir Roger, who was not without hopes of getting a private conversation with the gipsy before his arrest, and who had an object of his own in wishing to do so; for although rogues often trust each other in a manner which--with the knowledge of each other's character that they must possess--is little less than a miracle, no man covenants with another whom he knows to be a villain without seeking some check upon him; and Sir Roger was not a little desirous of having the peer more fully in his power, as some security for the fulfilment of his promises. "No fear, no fear, my lord; and remember, it would never do if I were to point out the wrong man by any chance."

This argument was conclusive with Lord Dewry. The bell was rung, a swift horse was ordered to be saddled immediately, Sir Roger equipped himself for riding, received minute directions as to the way to Dimden, and the peer and his guest were standing before the fireplace, waiting for the horse, each occupied with his own thoughts, and each rejoicing at the event of a meeting which had seemed at first so inauspicious--Sir Roger Millington indulging in dreams of future luxury and ease, and the baron triumphing in the hope that the means he had employed, the dark and dreadful scheme which he was prepared to execute, would bid defiance to accusation, and sweep from his path for ever the man that he most feared on earth--when the sound of more horses' feet than one was heard without, the bell was rung violently, and the servant, entering, announced that a gentleman on horseback was at the door, urging important business with his lordship.

"Did he give his name?" demanded Lord Dewry.

"Yes, my lord," replied the man: "he bade me say that it was Colonel Manners!"

"Ho, ho!" said the peer, his lip curling with a haughty smile: "take him into the saloon. This is a business of no importance, Sir Roger; do not let it detain you. Fare you well, my good friend, and may success attend you!"

"I give your lordship back your wish," replied Sir Roger, "and will wait on you to-morrow at breakfast with all my tidings."

Thus saying, they parted, Sir Roger proceeding to hasten the arrival of the horse, and the peer walking with a haughty step towards the saloon, where he was waited by Colonel Manners.