But to return to Lord Dreddlington. The remedies resorted to so speedily after his seizure at Mr. Gammon's chambers, had most materially counteracted the effects of the terrible shock which he had sustained, and which, but for such interference, would in all probability have proved fatal in its consequences. Shortly after his removal to his own house, he sank into tranquil and safe sleep, which continued, with a few interruptions, for several hours—during which his brain recovered itself, in a considerable measure, from the sudden and temporary pressure which it had experienced. Towards seven o'clock in the evening, there were sitting, on one side of the bed Miss Macspleuchan, and on the other the Lady Cecilia—who also had rallied from the shock which she had sustained, and now, occasionally shedding tears, sat gazing in melancholy silence at the countenance of her father. She was certainly a miserable young woman,—was Lady Cecilia,—ignorant though she might be of the real extent of disaster consequent upon her alliance with Titmouse, whom she had long hated and despised, on all occasions avoiding his company. Their almost total estrangement was quite notorious in society!

His Lordship's physician had quitted the chamber for a few minutes, to make arrangements for continuing with him during the night; and neither Miss Macspleuchan nor Lady Cecilia had spoken for some time. At length the earl, who had become rather restless, faintly muttered at intervals to himself the words—

"Bubble—villain—Blackwall"——

"You see," whispered Miss Macspleuchan, "what he's thinking of. He dined with those people, you know." Lady Cecilia nodded in silence. Presently his Lordship resumed—

"Account closed!—Call on Mr. Gammon—Is Mr. Gammon at home?"——

The current of his recollections had now brought him to the point of danger; and after pausing for a moment, a troubled expression came over his face—he was evidently realizing the commencement of the terrible scene in Mr. Gammon's room—then he seemed to have lost the train of his thoughts for a while, as his features slowly resumed their previous placidity; but the troubled aspect presently returned: his lips were suddenly compressed, and his brow corrugated, as if with the emotion of anger or indignation.

"Monstrous! Two thousand pounds?" He spoke these words in a much stronger voice than those preceding.

"Oh, dear!—I should have thought his Lordship had lost much more than that," whispered Miss Macspleuchan, in a low tone.

"Insist!—Titmouse—Titmouse"—his lips slightly quivered, and he paused for a while. "Shocking! What will she"——an expression of agony came over his face.

"Poor papa! He's evidently heard it all!" whispered Lady Cecilia, faintly.

"Hush!" exclaimed Miss Macspleuchan, raising her finger to her lips—adding presently, "if he goes on in this way, I shall go and bring in Dr. Whittington."

"Cecilia!—Cecilia!"—continued the earl; and suddenly opening his eyes, gazed forward, and then on each side, with a dull confused stare. Then he closed them, muttering—"I certainly thought Mr. Gammon was here!" Shortly afterwards he opened them again; and his head being inclined towards the side where Lady Cecilia was sitting, they fell upon, and seemed to be arrested by her countenance. After gazing at her for some moments very, very sorrowfully, he again closed his eyes, murmuring—"Poor Cecilia!"

"I really think, my dear, you 'd better leave the room," faltered Miss Macspleuchan; imagining, from the state of her own feelings, that those of Lady Cecilia would be overpowering her—for nothing could be more soul-touching than the tone in which the earl had last spoken.

"No; he's asleep again," replied Lady Cecilia, calmly,—and for a quarter of an hour all was again silent. Then the earl sighed; and opening his eyes, looked full at Lady Cecilia, and with a more natural expression.

"Kiss me, Cecilia," said he, gently; and raising both his arms a little, while she leaned forward and kissed his forehead, he very feebly placed them round her, but they almost immediately sank on the bed again, as if he had not strength to keep them extended.

"We will live together, Cecilia, again," murmured the earl.

"Dear papa, don't distress yourself; if you do, I really must go away from you."

"No, no; you must not, Cecilia," murmured the earl, sadly and faintly, and shaking his head.

"Have you seen him to-day?" he presently asked with a little more energy, as if he were becoming more and more thoroughly awake, and aware of his position; and there was a marked difference in the expression of his eye—partly perplexed, partly alarmed.

"No, papa—I left the moment it happened, and came here; and have been here ever since. Do, dear papa, be calm!" added Lady Cecilia, with perfect composure.

"There!—I am gone blind again," exclaimed the earl, suddenly, and raised his trembling hands to his eyes.

"So you knew it all?" said he, presently, tremulously removing his hands, and looking up, as if the momentary obscuration of his sight had ceased.

"Oh yes, papa, of course! How could I help it? Try to go to sleep again, dear papa." There was a faint dash of petulance in her manner.

They were at terrible cross purposes.

His eye remained fixed steadily on that of his daughter. "Is it not horrible, Cecilia?" said he, with a shudder.

"Dear papa, I don't know what you mean," replied Cecilia, quite startled by the tone of his voice, and the look of his eye. There was nothing wild or unnatural about it. The eye seemed that of a man in his full senses, but horrified by some frightful recollection or other.

"I thought it would have killed her," he muttered, closing his eyes, while a faint flush came over his face, but that of Lady Cecilia turned deadly pale.

"Don't speak again, dear," whispered Miss Macspleuchan, herself a little startled by the earl's manner—"he's wandering—he'll go to sleep presently."

"Yes, in my grave, madam," replied the earl, solemnly, in a hollow tone—at the same time turning towards Miss Macspleuchan an eye which suddenly blanched her face—"but even there I shall not forget!" She gazed at him in silence, and apprehensively, trembling from head to foot.

There ensued a pause of a minute or two.

"Oh, Cecilia!" said the earl, presently, shaking his head, and looking at her with the same terrible expression which had so startled her before—"that I had first followed you to your grave!"

"My dear papa, you are only dreaming!"

"No, I am not. Oh! how can you, Cecilia, be so calm here, when you know that you have married a"——

Lady Cecilia glanced hurriedly at Miss Macspleuchan, who, having risen a little from her chair, was leaning forward in an agitated manner, and straining her ear to catch every word—

"What are you talking about, papa?" gasped Lady Cecilia, while her face became of a deadly whiteness.

"Why, I thought you knew it all," said the earl, sustained and stimulated by the intensity of his feelings—"that this Titmouse—is—Mr. Gammon has acknowledged all—an infamous impostor—an illegitimate"——

Miss Macspleuchan, with a faint shriek, rang the bell at the bed-head violently; but before she or any one else could reach her, Lady Cecilia had fallen heavily on the floor, where she lay unconsciously, her maid falling down over her as she rushed into the room, alarmed by the sudden and violent ringing of the bell. All was confusion and horror. Lady Cecilia was instantly carried out insensible; the earl was found to have been seized with a second fit of apoplexy. Dr. Bailey was quickly in attendance, followed soon after by an eminent accoucheur, whom it had been found necessary to send for, Lady Cecilia's illness having assumed the most alarming character conceivable. When Miss Macspleuchan had in some measure recovered from her distraction, she despatched a servant to implore the instant attendance of the Duke and Duchess of Tantallan, unable to bear the overwhelming horror occasioned to her by the statement of the Earl of Dreddlington; and which, whether so astounding and frightful a statement was founded in fact or not, and only a delusion of the earl's, was likely to have given the unfortunate Lady Cecilia her death-blow.

Both the duke and duchess—the nearest relatives of the earl then in London (the duke being his brother-in-law)—were, within half an hour, at Lord Dreddlington's and made acquainted with the fearful occasion of what had happened. The duke and duchess were quite as proud and haughty people as Lord Dreddlington; but the duke was a little—and only a little—the earl's superior in point of understanding. When first told of the earl's disclosure, he was told as if it were an ascertained fact; and his horror knew no bounds. But when he came to inquire into the matter, and found that it rested on no other foundation than the distempered wanderings of a man whose brain was at the time laboring under the effects of an apoplectic seizure, he began to feel a great relief; especially when Miss Macspleuchan could mention no single circumstance corroboratory of so amazing and frightful a representation. At her suggestion, the duke, unable to render any personal service to the earl, who was in the hands of the physicians, hurried home again, and sent off a special messenger to Mr. Gammon, whose address Miss Macspleuchan had given him, with the following note:—

"The Duke of Tantallan presents his compliments to Mr. Gammon, and most earnestly begs that he will, without a moment's delay, favor the duke with a call in Portman Square, on business of the last importance.

"Portman Square,

Wednesday Evening, 9 o'clock."

A huge servant of the duke's—with powdered hair, silver epaulettes, dark crimson coat, and white breeches, having altogether a most splendid appearance—created something like a sensation in the immediate neighborhood of Thavies' Inn, by inquiring, with a very impatient and excited air, for "Thavies' Inn," and a "gentleman of the name of Gammon" who was very naturally supposed to be honored by some special and direct communication from the king, or at least some member of the royal family. Gammon himself, who was in the act of opening his door to go out and make his promised call of inquiry in Grosvenor Square—was flustered for a moment, on finding himself stepping into the arms of such an imposing personage; who said, as he gave him the letter, on finding him to be Mr. Gammon—"From the Duke of Tantallan, sir. His Grace, I believe, expects you immediately, sir."

Mr. Gammon hastily opened the letter, and having glanced at the contents—"Give my compliments to his Grace, and say I will attend him immediately," said he. The man withdrew, and Gammon returned into his chamber, and sat for a few moments in the darkness—he having just before put out his lamp. He burst into a cold sweat—"What's in the wind now!" said he to himself. "Ah, why did I not ask the fellow?"—and starting from his seat, he rushed down-stairs, and succeeded in calling back the duke's servant just as he was turning out of the inn—"Do you happen to have been into Grosvenor Square to-day?—And do you know how the Earl of Dreddlington is?" inquired Gammon, anxiously.

"Yes, sir; his Lordship, and the Lady Cecilia Titmouse, are both dangerously ill. I believe his Lordship, sir, has had a stroke—they say it's the second he's had to-day—and her Ladyship is taken in labor, and is in a shocking bad way, sir. The duke and duchess were sent for in a dreadful hurry about an hour ago."

"Dear! I'm sorry to hear it! Thank you," replied Gammon, hastily turning away a face which he felt must have gone of a ghastly paleness.

"It may be only to inquire about the Artificial Rain Company"—said Gammon to himself, as, having procured a light, he poured himself out a large glassful of brandy, and drank it off, to overcome a little sense of faintness which he felt coming rapidly over him. "The duke is a shareholder, I think. Not at all unlikely!—And as for Lady Cecilia's illness—nothing so extraordinary about it—when one considers her situation—and the shock occasioned by the earl's sudden and alarming illness. But I must take a decided course, one way or another, with the duke!—Suppose the earl has disclosed the affair to Lady Cecilia—and it has got to the duke's ears?—Good heavens! how is one to deal with it? Suppose I were to affect total ignorance about the matter—and swear that it is altogether a delusion on the part of the earl?—That would be rather a bold stroke, too!—Suppose the earl to die of this bout—ah! then there 's an end of the thing, and all's well, provided I can manage Titmouse!—A second fit of apoplexy within twelve hours—that looks well—humph!—If the earl have mentioned the affair—and distinctly and intelligibly—how far has he gone?—Did he name the rent-charge?—Ah!—well, and suppose he did? What's easier than also to deny that altogether? But suppose Titmouse should be tampered with, and pressed about the business? Perdition!—all is lost!—Yet they would hardly like to defy me, and trumpet the thing abroad!—Then there's the other course—to own that I am in possession of the fatal secret—that I became so only recently; avow the reason of my taking the rent-charge; and insist upon retaining it, as the condition of my secrecy? That also is a bold stroke: both are bold!—Yet one of them I must choose!—Then, suppose the earl to recover: he will never be the same man he was—that I find is always the case—his mind, such as it is, will go nearly altogether!—But if he recover only a glimmering even of sense—egad! 't will require a little nerve, too, to deny the thing to his face, and swear that the whole thing is the delusion of a brain disordered by previous fright!—And suppose Lady Cecilia dies?—and leaves no issue?—and then Lord Dreddlington follows her—by Heaven, this hideous little devil becomes Lord Drelincourt at once!!"

This was the way in which Mr. Gammon turned the thing over in his disturbed mind, as he walked rapidly towards Portman Square; and by the time that he had reached the duke's house, he had finally determined on the course he should pursue. Though his face was rather pale, he was perfectly self-possessed and firm, at the moment of his being shown into the library, where the duke was walking about, impatient for his arrival.

"Gracious God, sir!"—commenced the duke, in a low tone, with much agitation of manner, the moment that the servant had closed the door behind him—"what is all this horrible news we hear about Mr. Titmouse?"

"Horrible news—about Mr. Titmouse?" echoed Gammon, amazedly—"pardon me—I don't understand your Grace! If you allude to the two executions, which I'm sorry to hear"——

"Pho, sir! you are trifling! Believe me, this is a very awful moment to all persons involved in what has taken place!" replied the duke, his voice quivering with emotion.

"Your Grace will excuse me, but I really cannot comprehend you!"——

"You soon shall, sir! I tell you, it may be a matter of infinite moment to yourself personally, Mr. Gammon!"

"What does your Grace mean?" inquired Gammon, respectfully, but firmly—and throwing an expression of still greater amazement into his face.

"Mean, sir? By——! that you have killed my Lord Dreddlington and the Lady Cecilia," cried the duke, in a very violent manner.

"I wait to hear, as soon as your Grace may condescend to explain," said Gammon, calmly.

"Explain, sir? Why, I have already told and explained everything!" replied the choleric duke, who imagined that he really had done so.

"Your Grace has told—has explained nothing whatever," said Gammon.

"Why, sir—I mean, what 's this horrible story you've been telling my Lord Dreddlington about Mr. Titmouse being—in plain English, sir—A BASTARD?"

If the duke had struck at Gammon, the latter could not have started back more suddenly and violently than he did on hearing his Grace utter the last words; and he remained gazing at the duke with a face full of horror and bewilderment. The spectacle which he presented arrested the duke's increasing excitement. He stared open-mouthed at Gammon, presently adding—"Why sir, are we both—are we all—mad? or dreaming? or what has come to us?"

"I think," replied Gammon, a little recovering from the sort of stupor into which the duke's words had apparently thrown him, "it is I who have a better title than your Grace to ask the question!—I tell Lord Dreddlington that Mr. Titmouse is a bastard! Why, I can hardly credit my ears! Does my Lord Dreddlington say that I have told him so?"

"He does, sir!" replied the duke, fiercely.

"And what else may his Lordship have said concerning me?" inquired Gammon, with a sort of hopeless smile.

"By Heaven, sir, you mustn't treat this matter lightly!" said the duke, impetuously, approaching him suddenly.

"May I ask your Grace whether this is the matter mentioned in your Grace's note, as of the"——

"It is, sir! it is!—and it's killed my Lord Dreddlington—and also the Lady Cecilia!"

"What!" cried Gammon, starting and exhibiting increasing amazement—"does her Ladyship, too, say that I have told her so?"

"Yes, sir; she does!"

"What, Lady Cecilia?" echoed Gammon, really confounded.

"Well, sir—I think she did"——

"Think, your Grace!" interrupted Gammon, bitterly and reproachfully.

"Well, sir—certainly the fact is, I may be mistaken as to that matter. I was not present; but, at all events, my Lord Dreddlington certainly says you told him—and he's told Lady Cecilia—and it's killing her—it is, sir!—By heavens, sir, I expect hourly to hear of both of their deaths!—and I beg to ask you, sir, once for all, have you ever made any such statement to my Lord Dreddlington?"

"Not a syllable—never a breath of the sort in all my life!" replied Gammon, boldly, and rather sharply, as if indignant at being pressed about anything so absurd.

"What!—nothing of the sort? or to that effect?" exclaimed the duke, with mingled amazement and incredulity.

"Certainly—certainly not!—But let me ask, in my turn, is the fact so? Does your Grace mean to say that"——

"No, sir," interrupted the duke, but not speaking in his former confident tone—"but my Lord Dreddlington does!"

"Oh, impossible! impossible!" cried Gammon, with an incredulous air—"Only consider for one moment—how could the fact possibly be so and I not know it! Why, I am familiar with every step of his pedigree!" The duke drummed vehemently with his finger on the table, and stared at Gammon with the air of a man suddenly and completely nonplussed.

"Why, Mr. Gammon, then my Lord Dreddlington must have completely lost his senses! He declares that you told him that such was the fact!—When and where, may I ask, did you first see him to-day?"

"About half-past eleven or twelve o'clock, when he called at my chambers in a state of the greatest agitation and excitement, occasioned by the announcement in this morning's paper of the sudden blow-up of the Artificial"——

"Good Heaven! why, is that gone?" interrupted his Grace, eagerly and alarmedly, starting up from his seat—"When? why? how?—By Heaven, it's enough to turn any one's head!"

"Indeed it is, your Grace. My Lord Dreddlington was the first from whom I heard anything on the subject."

"It's very odd I didn't see the paragraph! Where was it? In the Morning Growl?" continued the duke, with much agitation.

"It was, your Grace—it stated that Sir Sharper Bubble had suddenly absconded, with all the funds of"——

"Oh, the villain! oh, the villain!—But why do you make such scoundrels chairmen, and treasurers, and so forth? How must the loss be made good? You really don't look sharp enough after people whom you put into such situations! Who the deuce is this fellow—this Sir Bubble Sharper, or whatever he is called—eh?"

"He was greatly respected in the City, or would not have been in the position he was. Who could have suspected it?"

"And is the thing quite blown up? All gone?"

"Yes. I fear it is, indeed!" replied Gammon, shrugging his shoulders and sighing.

"Of course no one can be made liable—come the worst to the worst, eh?" inquired the duke, very anxiously, "beyond the amount of his shares? How's that, Mr. Gammon?"

"I devoutly trust not! Your Grace will observe that it depends a good deal on the prominence which any one takes in the affair."

"Egad! is that the principle? Then, I assure you, Mr. Gammon, upon my word of honor, that I have not taken the least public part in the proceedings"——

"I am very happy to hear it, your Grace. Nor have I—but I very much fear that my Lord Dreddlington may have gone farther a good deal"——

"I've several times warned him on the subject, I assure you. By the way, there's that other affair, Mr. Gammon, I hope—eh?—that the Gunpowder and Fresh Water"——

"Good heavens, your Grace! I hope all is right there—or I, for one, am a ruined man!" replied Gammon, quickly.

"I—I—hope so too, sir.—So Lord Dreddlington was a good deal shocked, eh, this morning?"

"Yes, indeed he was—nay, I may say, terribly excited! I was greatly alarmed on his account, directly I saw him."

"And is this Mr. Titmouse—eh?—involved in the thing?"

"I really can't tell, your Grace—his movements are somewhat eccentric—it's extremely difficult to discover or account for them! By the way, I recollect, now, that I did mention his name to Lord Dreddlington."

"Ah, indeed! What about?" interrupted his Grace, briskly.

"Why, I just heard that early this morning there would be one or two executions put into his house—he's been going on lately in a very wild way."

"Oh, he's a monstrous little—but was that all that passed between you and my Lord Dreddlington about him?"

"I will undertake to say," replied Gammon, pausing, putting his finger to his lips, and appearing to try to recollect—"that that was the only mention made of his name, for soon after his Lordship was seized with a fit," and Mr. Gammon proceeded to give the duke a very vivid and feeling description of it.

"What a singular hallucination his Lordship must be laboring under, to make such an assertion concerning me as he appears to have made!" presently observed Gammon.

"Very!" replied the duke, gravely, still feeling serious misgivings on the subject; but what could he either say, or do, further, after the solemn, the explicit, and repeated denials of Mr. Gammon? His Grace then gave him an account of what he had heard as to the mode of Lord Dreddlington's seizure, and that of Lady Cecilia; and as he went on, Gammon quivered from head to foot—and it required all his extraordinary powers of self-command to conceal his excessive agitation from the duke.

"By the way, where is Mr. Titmouse?" inquired the duke, as he rose, after saying that he was going on immediately to Grosvenor Square. "I have sent to Park Lane, and find that he has not been there since the morning."

"I really don't know, I assure your Grace. I have not seen him for several days. If his affairs are as seriously involved as your Grace would intimate, he may probably be keeping out of the way!"

"Do let me beg of you to take the trouble of inquiring after him to-morrow morning, Mr. Gammon. He must be very much shocked to hear of the lamentable condition of Lady Cecilia!"

"Indeed I will, I assure your Grace: I only hope he may not have gone over to the Continent."

"God bless my soul, but I hope not!" interrupted the duke, earnestly: and added, after one or two other observations, "then I understand you as stating, Mr. Gammon, that there is not the least pretence or foundation, in point of fact, for the representation which my Lord Dreddlington has made concerning you, with reference to Mr. Titmouse—excuse me—is it so, upon your word of honor?"

"Upon my sacred word of honor!" replied Gammon, steadfastly; and, shortly afterwards, bowing to the duke, took his leave, promising to call on his Grace early on the morrow, and to make every exertion to see Mr. Titmouse—whom Mr. Gammon was now, indeed, devouringly anxious to see, and would have made almost any sacrifice to be enabled to fall in with him that very night. Good heavens! how much now depended on Titmouse!—on the manner in which he would deal with such questions as would infallibly be asked of him by the duke, and by any one else who might have heard of the rumor! In short, Gammon was quite distracted by doubts and fears, as he bent his way back to his chambers, not venturing, after what he had heard, to call in Grosvenor Square that evening, lest he should hear fatal news of either the earl or Lady Cecilia—that is, of either or both of his victims! The next morning, the following announcement of the earl's illness appeared in most of the morning papers, and created quite a sensation in "society:"—

"Sudden and alarming illness of the Earl of Dreddlington and Lady Cecilia Titmouse.—Yesterday, while sitting in the office of his solicitor, the Earl of Dreddlington experienced an apoplectic seizure of a most serious nature, and which, but for prompt and decisive medical treatment, must have proved immediately fatal.

His Lordship rallied sufficiently during the course of the day to admit of his being conveyed to his house in Grosvenor Square, but in the evening experienced a second and still more alarming fit, and continues in a state which is calculated to excite the greatest apprehension. We regret also to add, that Lady Cecilia Titmouse, his Lordship's only daughter, happening to be with his Lordship at the moment of this sudden attack, was immediately seized with illness; which, in her Ladyship's critical state of health, may be attended with most serious consequences."

In the evening papers, it was stated that the Earl of Dreddlington still continued in a precarious condition, and that Lady Cecilia was not expected to survive the night; and the instant that Mr. Gammon laid his hands on the next morning's paper, he turned with eagerness and trepidation to a certain gloomy corner of it—and a faint momentary mist came over his eyes, while he read as follows:—

"Yesterday, in Grosvenor Square, in her 29th year, after giving premature birth to a son, still-born, Lady Cecilia Titmouse, the Lady of Tittlebat Titmouse, Esq., M. P., and only daughter and heiress of the Right Honorable the Earl of Dreddlington."

Mr. Gammon laid down the paper, and for some moments felt overcome with a deadly faintness. Having, however, recovered himself a little, on casting a hasty apprehensive glance over the newspaper, for intelligence of the Earl of Dreddlington, he read as follows:—

"The Earl of Dreddlington, we regret to say, continues alarmingly ill. Drs. Bailey and Whittington are in constant attendance upon his Lordship. Our readers will see, in another part of our paper, the melancholy announcement of the death of his Lordship's lovely and accomplished daughter, Lady Cecilia Titmouse, after giving premature birth to a son, still-born.

We regret to hear it rumored, that the illness of his Lordship originated in a shock occasioned by circumstances of a very painful nature; but this report, we trust, will turn out to be unfounded. In the event of his Lordship's demise, he is succeeded in his titles and estates by his son-in-law, and heir, upon the death of the Lady Cecilia, Mr. Titmouse, M. P. for Yatton."

It will surely be a relief to one's feelings to pass away, for a while at least, from the contemplation of these events of untoward and disastrous issue, to persons and to incidents of a very different character. Turn, therefore, kind and patient reader! your eye to that retreat of long-suffering virtue which is to be found in Vivian Street!

Relieved from the immediate pressure which had, as it were, forced him down into the very dust, poor Aubrey's pious and well-disciplined mind was not long in recovering that tone of confident reliance upon the goodness and mercy of God, which God had seen fit so severely to try; and such He now permitted Aubrey to see had been His object. He and his lovely—his beloved wife and sister, soon recovered a considerable measure of composure, and even cheerfulness; yet felt they all in the deep waters. The generous and timely interference of Mr. Runnington had secured them, indeed, a few months' respite from the harassing and tormenting attacks of those who seemed bent upon their destruction; but what was to become of them all, when the arrival of the next term should have again set into motion against them the dismal machinery of the law? None of them could foresee any mode of exit from their troubles; speculation was idle: yet lost they not an humble but trembling hope, that Providence would yet make a way for their escape.

The one of all the recent occurrences which had most shocked and disheartened Mr. Aubrey, and driven him nearest to the verge of downright despair, was that of Lady Stratton's death, and its afflicting concomitants. How powerfully and perseveringly did the Arch-enemy of mankind represent this circumstance to him—especially in those moods of depression which are incident to all of us in this fluctuating scene of trial and suffering—as proof that he was the sport of chance, the victim of evil destiny! What—it was suggested—had he, his wife, his sister, done to deserve it? But, thank God! in vain were these suggestions from beneath; totally ineffectual

Certainly, the event alluded to baffled all his calculations long, and deeply, and anxiously as he reflected upon it, in all its bearings—and his only refuge lay in the simple reference of it to the all-wise providence of God. Oh, foolish fiend! and didst thou really think this little matter was sufficient to make this Christian man doubt or deny God's moral government of the world?—Far otherwise, indeed, was it with him, enlightened by intelligence from on high; and which satisfied Aubrey, that while there was so much that was utterly incomprehensible and inexplicable in the character of God Himself, in His physical and natural government of the world, it was but reasonable to expect corresponding mystery and incomprehensibility in His moral government of the world. We are permitted to obtain a few occasional glimpses of the one, as well as of the other—and they should satisfy us of the reality of the sublime and awful system which is in existence around us. What know we of the ultimate scope and end of His working? What seeming good shall we be sure will not produce evil? What seeming evil shall we be sure will not produce, and is not designed to produce, good? And may not our ignorance in these respects be specially ordained to test the faith of man—to check presumptuous confidence—to repel palsying despair; in a word, to make man walk humbly with his God, in constant and implicit dependence upon him? Oh, blessed is the man of true devoutness of mind, and protected from innumerable troubles and perils that assail and overpower those who choose to live without God in the world!—Thus was it that Aubrey, as he had not presumed in his prosperity, so despaired not in his adversity.

He had commenced a sedulous attendance at the chambers of Mr. Mansfield, within a few days after the delicate kindness of Mr. Runnington had afforded him the means of doing so. He already knew sufficient to give him an interest in the intricate system of the law of real property; and the immediate practical operation of its principles, which he witnessed in his new scene of study, served to enhance his estimate of its importance and value. In addition, however, to his absorbing professional labors, he continued his occasional contributions to substantial literature; but Mr. Runnington's generosity had enabled him to dispense with that severe and incessant exertion to which he had been till then accustomed, and to address himself to his difficult yet delightful studies, with undivided energy.

Some short time after he had commenced his attendance at Mr. Mansfield's chambers, Mr. Aubrey was, one morning about ten o'clock, on his way down to Lincoln's Inn, and when about to cross Piccadilly, paused to let pass him a dusty post-chaise and four, dashing up St. James's Street; and as it went close and rapidly by him, he quite started with astonishment; for, unless his eyes had extraordinarily deceived him, he had seen in that chaise no other a person than Lord De la Zouch: who, however, if it were he, had not appeared to see Mr. Aubrey, and probably had really not observed him.

"Why, how can this be?" thought Aubrey, standing and gazing for a moment in astonishment after the dust-covered vehicle. "The letter which Agnes received the other day from Lady De la Zouch, did not say a word about Lord De la Zouch's intention to return to England! And alone!—And in a post-chaise—and travelling all night, as he evidently has, from Dover! 'T is strange! What can be the matter?"—And he stood for a moment irresolute whether or not he should retrace his steps, and satisfy his curiosity by calling at the house of Lord De la Zouch, in Dover Street. On consideration, however, he determined not to do so. He might be mistaken; but if not, Lord De la Zouch might have been called back to England on a matter of special urgency, and possibly deem a visit from any one, except those whom he expected to see, intrusive. Aubrey, therefore, continued his way on to Lincoln's Inn; and was very soon engrossed with the matters there requiring his attention. But it really was Lord De la Zouch whom he had seen; and, moreover, it was solely on Aubrey's own account that his Lordship, leaving Lady De la Zouch at Paris, had taken this sudden journey to England—not intending Aubrey, however, at all events at present, to be apprised of the fact. 'Twas entirely owing to the unconscious Gammon that Lord De la Zouch thus made his appearance in England; for, had that gentleman not taken such special pains to have inserted in the Morning Growl, the full and accurate account of the proceedings which he had caused to be instituted against himself, which the reader has had laid before him, and which his Lordship, in due course, had read at Paris, with infinite anxiety and alarm on the score of its possible bearing upon Mr. Aubrey, his Lordship would in all probability have continued at Paris for several months longer, in total ignorance of the thraldom of the unfortunate Aubreys. The moment that his Lordship had perused the report in question, he wrote off to Mr. Runnington a strictly confidential letter, begging an immediate answer, with as full and exact an account of Mr. Aubrey's circumstances as Mr. Runnington could give. By the very next post, that gentleman wrote off to his Lordship a long answer, acquainting him with what had befallen the persecuted Aubrey, viz.—his double arrest, and in respect of so terrible a liability. Mr. Runnington spoke in very glowing and feeling terms of the manly fortitude of Mr. Aubrey under his accumulated misfortunes; and, in short, drew so moving a picture of the deplorable circumstances into which Mr. Aubrey and his family were plunged, that his Lordship the next day wrote off to inform Mr. Runnington, in confidence, that he might expect to see his Lordship in London within a day or two—for that he was coming over solely on the affairs of the Aubreys—and was, in fact, resolved upon bringing about, cost what it might, either alone, or in conjunction with such other friends of Mr. Aubrey as his Lordship might think proper to take into his counsels, a complete and final settlement of Mr. Aubrey's affairs, and so place him at once and forever out of the reach of all his enemies; to set him once more straight and free in the world, and give him a fair chance of securing, by the successful practice of the profession of the bar, that independence, affluence, and distinction, to which his great talents, learning, industry, and unconquerable energy, warranted him in aspiring. As soon as his Lordship had recovered from the fatigues of his journey, he sent off a servant to request the immediate attendance of Mr. Runnington—who was overjoyed at receiving the summons, and could hardly refrain from stepping over to Mr. Mansfield's, in order to apprise Mr. Aubrey of the arrival of Lord De la Zouch. He abstained, however, from doing so, on recollecting the strict injunctions of Lord De la Zouch; and immediately set off for Dover Street. But before they met, let me take the opportunity of mentioning one or two little matters connected with the previous movements of Mr. Runnington.

He was a very able man; clear-headed, cautious, experienced, and singularly prompt and determined, when once he had resolved on any course of proceeding: in short, he was quite capable of contending against even such a formidable opponent as Gammon, subtle, tortuous, and unscrupulous though he might be. "Let me once get hold of Master Gammon—that's all!"—thought, very frequently, Mr. Runnington. Now, the astounding avowal which Miss Aubrey represented Mr. Gammon as having made to her, in his insane attempt to prevail upon her to entertain his addresses—viz. that he possessed the power of immediately, and by legal means, displacing Mr. Titmouse, and repossessing Mr. Aubrey, of Yatton—had made a profound impression on the mind of Mr. Runnington. The more that he reflected upon the incident—and upon the character of Mr. Gammon, the stronger became his conviction that Mr. Gammon had been in earnest in what he had said; that there was a foundation in fact for his assertion; and that if so, some scheme of profound and infernal wickedness must have been had recourse to, in order to dispossess Mr. Aubrey of Yatton, and place Titmouse there in his stead. Then Mr. Runnington adverted, in his own mind, to the circumstance of Mr. Gammon's exercising such a constant interference and control over Titmouse, and all matters connected with Yatton. Mr. Runnington many and many a time pondered these things in his mind—but was, after all, completely at a loss to know what steps to take, and how to deal with the affair, as it stood. Then again, with reference to the death of Lady Stratton, and the melancholy circumstances attending it, Mr. Runnington had entered into a correspondence with Mr. Parkinson, with a view to ascertaining the chances there were, of procuring his draft of Lady Stratton's will, to be admitted to probate; and laid the whole affair, in the shape of a "case," before an eminent practitioner in the ecclesiastical court. The opinion he thus obtained, was, however, adverse; mainly, on the ground that there was clearly evidence to show a subsequent essential alteration of intention on the part of Lady Stratton—to say nothing of certain other difficulties which, the fee marked being a very handsome one, were suggested by the astute civilian. Mr. Runnington was much chagrined at this result; and abandoned his design of seriously contesting Mr. Titmouse's claim to administration. It could, however, he thought, do no harm if he were just to lodge a caveat, even though he should there leave the matter. It might have the effect of interposing some delay; staving off any contemplated proceedings upon the bond which Mr. Aubrey had given to the late Lady Stratton; and afford an opportunity for negotiation concerning the payment of Mr. Aubrey and Miss Aubrey's shares of the property of the intestate. This step, therefore, he took—and was by no means chagrined at finding, some short time afterwards, that the Vulture Company were bent on pursuing their ordinary course, in cases of policies which rendered it worth their while, viz. not paying till they were forced to do so:—and the Company, in their turn, were only too happy to find that there was a chance of a protracted dispute concerning the right to the policy. Not satisfied with this—still haunted by Mr. Gammon's mysterious statement to Miss Aubrey—it all at once occurred to Mr. Runnington, in the course of one of his many meditations upon the subject, to take an opportunity of discussing the affair, in all its bearings, with Sir Charles Wolstenholme, whose penetrating, practical sagacity, sharpened by his zeal and sympathy, might hit upon something or other undiscernible to Mr. Runnington. Without having intimated his intentions to Mr. Aubrey, Mr. Runnington, shortly after having lodged his caveat, succeeded in obtaining an interview with Sir Charles, expressly with a view of talking over the affairs of the unfortunate Mr. Aubrey.

"God bless my soul!" cried Sir Charles, in a tone of wonder, as soon as Mr. Runnington had mentioned the statement of Mr. Gammon to Miss Aubrey, and the circumstances accompanying it. In short, it was clear that Sir Charles was every whit as much struck with the fact as had been Mr. Runnington; and for some minutes after Mr. Runnington had named it, seemed lost in thought. A considerable pause here ensued in their conversation; and Mr. Runnington was quite delighted to see his distinguished companion evidently engaged in turning about the facts of the case in his clear and powerful understanding; viewing them from every point in which they could be contemplated, and in all their bearings.

"It's very likely, I am disposed to think, that the fellow was in earnest," at length said Sir Charles; "at all events that he believed he had the power which he professed to possess; and that he was hurried away into prematurely disclosing it. Egad, he's a nice person, that Gammon, too, by the way, to think of his proposing to sweet, pretty Miss Aubrey—ah, hah," he added with a faint but contemptuous smile; and presently subjoined in a musing sort of way—"I've got the general facts that came out at the trial still pretty fresh in my mind, and I've been just running over the links in his chain of proof. 'Gad! we could hardly have failed to detect a hitch, if there had been one! Link by link we went over it—and were long enough about it, at any rate! I can conceive too, that in a case of that sort there was room for a little bit of perjury, if it were cleverly managed; and Mr. Gammon is a clever man! By the way, I'm actually going down special for him to York, in that bribery case, ah, hah! Ay," he presently resumed, "I suspect that one or two of the links in that chain of his must have been of base metal. Devil take him! he must have done it well, too!" He smiled bitterly.

"If that's your impression, Sir Charles," said Mr. Runnington, eagerly, "what do you think of having a shot at them—a second ejectment!"

"Oh, by Heaven! that's an awful affair!" replied Sir Charles, shaking his head, and looking very serious; "besides, what he's done once, he may do again."

"Ah, but we know all his witnesses now beforehand! Then we fought him in the dark; but now"——

"Ay, there's something in that, certainly," said Sir Charles, musingly; "but then 't is such a frightful expense; and where poor Aubrey's to get the means"——

"Oh, never mind that, Sir Charles!" replied Mr. Runnington, nevertheless somewhat seriously; but thinking of Lord De la Zouch, he added rather briskly—"If you only intimate an opinion favorable towards venturing the experiment, I'll undertake that funds shall be forthcoming."

While Mr. Runnington was saying this, Sir Charles Wolstenholme sat leaning back in his chair, his head inclined on one side, the fingers of one hand playing mechanically with his chin; in fact, he was deeply engaged in thought, and Mr. Runnington did not interrupt him.

"Ah," he presently exclaimed with a sort of sigh, looking with sudden vivacity at his companion—"I have it—I have it—I see a way out of the wood! Well, if you can only get ammunition, it's my advice to you to fight the battle over again—but on quite a different field. We'll strike a blow in a new hemisphere!"

"Indeed, Sir Charles? What, in a court of equity?"

"Oh, pho, no!—You say you have entered a caveat against the grant of Letters of Administration?"

"Yes, certainly," replied Mr. Runnington, a little disappointed; "but, as I explained, there's no chance of establishing a will."

"Never mind that! Throw the will to the dogs. I'll show you a wrinkle worth a hundred wills! Mr. and Miss Aubrey, and Titmouse, are, you know, of course, entitled each to a third of Lady Stratton's estate, but as Aubrey would appear to the court to be in fact insolvent, and to owe Titmouse a much larger sum than Aubrey is entitled to, out of the intestate's estate—the preferable right to administer is certainly that of Titmouse. Never mind that, however. Contest his right to administer at all: stand by your caveat—and when you are called upon to support it, do so on the ground that Mr. Aubrey is NEARER of kin to Lady Stratton than Titmouse—which will make it necessary for the fellow, you know, to set forth his pedigree with the greatest minuteness. You will then have a commission go down to the very spot where all the witnesses are, and those fellows, the proctors, you know, are as keen as beagles"——

"Oh, Sir Charles, Sir Charles! I—I see it all! Oh, admirable"——

"To be sure!" continued Sir Charles, with much animation. "Their case will be as it were laid on the rack, when the process of the ecclesiastical court is applied to it. You have an examiner on the spot—all secret and mysterious—proctors ferreting out all sorts of old registers and musty documents, that we should never think of. 'T is quite in their line—births, deaths, and marriages, and everything connected with them. By Jove! if there's a flaw, you'll discover it in this way!"

"Oh, heavens!" cried Mr. Runnington, with grateful glee, "your hint is worth thousands upon thousands of pounds"——

"If it only produce Ten Thousand a-Year—ah, hah!" interrupted Sir Charles, laughing good-naturedly; and very soon afterwards Mr. Runnington quitted his chambers, charmed and excited by the masterly suggestion which had been made to him, and resolved to go off to his proctor instanter, set about acting upon the hint forthwith, and get a kind of general notion of the process which he thought of commencing. You might, within an hour's time, have seen Mr. Runnington closeted with the proctor always employed by his firm—Mr. Obadiah Pounce—a man whose look told you he was made for penetrating into and poking about anything musty, or obscure. He was, indeed, thoroughly up to his business—in fact, not an abler or more experienced proctor was to be found in Doctor's Commons. As Mr. Pounce was not entirely unacquainted with the facts—having drawn up the case which had been submitted to Dr. Flare for his opinion as to the admissibility to probate of Mr. Parkinson's draft of Lady Stratton's intended will—it did not take long to put him in possession of the wishes and intentions of Mr. Runnington.

"Let us come away to Dr. Flare at once," quoth Pounce, putting his watch into his fob—"You'll catch him at home just now, I know, and perhaps in good-humor; and a short consultation with him will be worth half a dozen written opinions."

So they set off for the chambers of Dr. Flare, which were at only a few yards' distance. Dr. Flare was a very great man in the ecclesiastical court; in fact, by far the most eminent practitioner there. He was thoroughly versed in ecclesiastical law, and every species of learning connected with it; in fact, he had for the last thirty years been concerned in every case of the least importance which had come before that solemn, quaint, and mysterious tribunal. He was possessed of great acuteness and powers of arrangement, and had wonderful industry; but his capital quality was that of thoroughly identifying himself with his cause. Into every cause in which he was employed, he entered with all the keenness and vivacity which he could have displayed in one of vital personal consequence to himself. The moment he had possessed himself of the facts of his case, he became sincerely and really convinced, to the end of the chapter, that he was on the right side—that the legal and moral merits were with his client—that he ought to win—and that his opponents were among the most execrable of mankind. But, to be sure, such a temper was his! So fierce and fiery, that it scorched everybody who came into contact with him. He was like an angry dog, who, if he have nothing else to snap at, will snap at his own tail—and Dr. Flare, when he had no one else to get into a passion with, would get into one with himself. His own quickness of perception was calculated to render him impatient and irritable under even the clearest and briefest statement which could be addressed to him. He was, in a manner, the victim of his own acumen nimium. In spite of considerable impetuosity of temper, he was a kind, an honorable, and high-minded man; and when not in actual conflict, lived on very good terms with his grave and very learned brethren. In person, he was short and spare; his slight gray whiskers looked as if they had been calcined by his cheeks, which, though thin, were of a florid red color; his forehead was ample; and there was an expression about his piercing gray eye which seemed to ask with a curse, of any one entering, "why d'ye interrupt me?" When Mr. Pounce and Mr. Runnington entered his room—which was covered with papers and open books—the doctor was settling, in furore, Articles extending over many hundred folios, against an unhappy curate, flourishing on forty pounds a-year in Rutlandshire, "touching and concerning his soul's health, and the lawful correction and reformation of his manners and excesses," (such was the solemn and affectionate strain in which the reverend delinquent was addressed,) for having refused to baptize a child by the name of "Judas Iscariot"—that being the name desired to be given to his infant by a blasphemous little Radical cobbler, a chattering infidel, who sought, by that means, to evince his insane hatred of the Christian religion. Now, Dr. Flare was himself an ardent friend of the Church, and a sincere Christian: but, by virtue of the quality to which I have before alluded, he had brought himself to look upon this poor clergyman as guilty of a most flagrant piece of wickedness; and was forging, con amore, the bolt to be presently levelled at so enormous an offender. But a few minutes before their arrival, moreover, an incident had occurred to the doctor, which had roused him into a kind of frenzy: he had been interrupted by an applicant to be sworn to some matter or other, for which the doctor was entitled to the usual fee of one shilling. The deponent had only half-a-crown; so the doctor had to take out his purse, and give him the difference, with a muttered curse; and you may guess the scene which ensued on the deponent's presently returning, and requesting that the sixpence which the doctor had given him might be changed, being a bad one!—Mr. Runnington was prepared to go fully into his case before Dr. Flare; but on catching sight of him, he looked so startling a contrast to the calm and affable Sir Charles Wolstenholme—so like a hyena squatting in his den—that his heart suddenly failed him; and after observing, that instead of interrupting the doctor at that time, he would immediately lay a written case before him, he and Mr. Pounce made their escape into the open air; the former looking so relieved of apprehension, that Mr. Pounce almost died with laughter. But it occurred to Mr. Runnington, that, in the present stage of the business, Mr. Pounce was just as satisfactory an adviser as Dr. Flare could be—and he determined upon being guided by Mr. Pounce, whom he immediately instructed to retain Dr. Flare; and then talked over the whole case in all its bearings—the result being, that Mr. Pounce entirely corroborated the view taken by Sir Charles Wolstenholme, and pointed out so clearly and forcibly the peculiar advantages attending the contemplated mode of procedure, that Mr. Runnington nearly made up his mind on the spot, to venture on the experiment; but at all events undertook to give his final decision within twenty-four hours' time. The next morning, however, he received information from Mr. Pounce, which was calculated to quicken his motions; viz. that Mr. Titmouse was moving, and had just "warned the caveat,"[15] with a view to discovering who his opponent was, and what was the ground of his opposition. Now, this chanced to occur on the very day of Lord De la Zouch's arrival in London; his servant calling at Mr. Runnington's office with a note requesting his attendance in Dover Street, within a few hours of Mr. Runnington's receiving intelligence of the movement of Mr. Titmouse. The result of a very long and anxious discussion between Mr. Runnington and Lord De la Zouch was, that his Lordship acquiesced in the expediency of the course suggested to him, viz. to suspend for a month or two carrying into effect the scheme which he had formed for extricating Mr. Aubrey from all his liabilities—since the proceedings about to be instituted in the ecclesiastical court might possibly render unnecessary the very large pecuniary sacrifice contemplated by his Lordship, by disentitling Mr. Titmouse to receive any part of the demand which he was at present enforcing against Mr. Aubrey. His Lordship then gave a carte blanche to Mr. Runnington, and authorized him instantly to commence, and most vigorously prosecute every measure which might be necessary—to spare no expense or exertion—to give and take no quarter; for Lord De la Zouch expressed the warmest indignation at the whole conduct of Mr. Gammon—particularly his presumptuous advances towards Miss Aubrey, and the audacious measures to which he had resorted, for the purpose of securing her favor. His Lordship also felt, in common with Sir Charles Wolstenholme and Mr. Runnington, that Mr. Gammon's avowal to Miss Aubrey of his absolute control over the enjoyment of the Yatton property, warranted the suspicion that the decisive steps about to be taken would lead to the most important results. Thus fortified, Mr. Runnington immediately gave instructions to Mr. Pounce to proceed: and that person at once entered formally into battle with his brother proctor, Mr. Quod, who was acting for Mr. Titmouse. Supposing it to be all a very simple straightforward affair on the part of Mr. Titmouse, Mr. Quod did not give himself any particular concern about the step taken by Mr. Pounce, and with which he did not acquaint Mr. Gammon, till that gentleman called to inquire in what state the proceedings were; and when he found the ground taken by Mr. Aubrey, and that it would compel Mr. Titmouse to prove over again every link in the chain which connected him with the elder branch of the Aubrey family, he was not a little agitated, though he made a great effort to conceal it, while listening to Mr. Quod's account of the process about to be commenced. Each party, it seemed, would have to give in to the court "an allegation," or statement of the pedigree he intended to establish, and which would be lodged at the registry. Each would then, in due course, obtain a copy of his opponent's allegation, in order to guide him in framing his own proof and interrogatories. A COMMISSION would then be sent, by the court, into the county where the witnesses resided, to examine them—the examiner being an officer of the court, a proctor—and, while thus engaged, representing the court. This officer having been furnished by the parties with a copy of the two allegations, the names of the witnesses, and the interrogatories, would proceed to examine the witnesses; but in a manner very different from any adopted by the courts of law—viz. one by one, alone, secretly, and in the most searching and thorough manner; and having given his or her evidence, the witness would be formally threatened with the terrors of the ecclesiastical court, if he or she should presume to disclose to any person, much less the parties, the evidence which had been thus given to the examiner. When the whole of the evidence had been in this mysterious way collected, it would be lodged in the proper office of the court; and till the arrival of the proper time for permitting both parties to take copies of it—they would be in total ignorance as to the exact nature of that which had been given by even their own witnesses. Mr. Quod added, that the briefs which had been used at the trial of the action of ejectment, would of themselves furnish almost the entire "allegations," and greatly facilitate and accelerate the proceedings.

"Then, do the parties, or their proctors," inquired Gammon, "go down beforehand to the spot where the commission is to be held?"

"Oh yes, both parties, of course—Pounce and I shall be both at work down there, rummaging registries, records, churchyards—brushing up every man, woman, and child, that's got a word to say on the subject—warm work, warm work, Mr. Gammon! We sha'n't leave a stone unturned on either side! Lord, I recollect a case, for instance, where a marriage passed muster in all your common-law courts, one after the other; but as soon as it got into our hands—aha!—we found out that it was no marriage at all! and some thirty or forty thousand a-year changed owners! What d'ye think of that?" said Mr. Quod, rubbing his hands, with a pleased and confident air, which strangely contrasted with the reserved and disconcerted manner of his companion; who, in fact, had been thrown into a cold perspiration by what he had heard. "Pounce," continued Quod, "is a keen hand, but I know one that's not afraid of him any day! But I'm sorry they've secured Dr. Flare, I own"——

"Ah, well, that can't be helped now, you know. Good-day, Mr. Quod," said Gammon, with a sickly smile. "I shall be with you about this time to-morrow, to make arrangements." And with this he withdrew.

"Curse Lady Stratton—her will—her policy—everything connected with the old creature," said Gammon to himself, vehemently, as he sat that evening alone, in his chamber, meditating upon this most unexpected turn which the thing had taken; "nothing but vexation, and disappointment, and danger, by Heaven!—attends every move I make in her accursed affairs! Was there ever such a check, for instance, as this? Who could have dreamed of it? What may it not lead to?" Here he got up hastily, and walked for some minutes to and fro. "By Heaven, it won't do!—Would to Heaven I had never ventured on the speculation of Titmouse's administering to the old woman!—What could I have been about? And, too, when I knew nothing about the policy! But how can I now retreat? I must go on!" Another pause. "Stay—stay—that won't do either! Oh, no!—not for a moment! But what will they not conclude from our sudden striking? Of course, that we dare not bring Titmouse's pedigree again into the light; and, besides, by relinquishing the administration to Aubrey, shall I not be putting weapons into his hands—in the possession of the funds—against ourselves? Ay, to be sure! So, by ——, here we are in for it, whether we will or not—and no escape!" The latter words he uttered aloud, at the same time snapping his fingers with a desperate air; and continued walking about for a long time in a state of most direful perplexity and alarm. "What shall I do?" said he at length aloud, and then thought within himself—"Move in what direction I may, I am encountered by almost insuperable difficulties! Yet how cautious have I not been!—If I concede the administration to Aubrey, to what motives of conscious weakness will he not refer it? I must act—I dare not hesitate to act—on the solemn finding of a jury, now deliberately acquiesced in for so considerable a time by Aubrey. And I know that the ecclesiastical court won't easily be brought to act against that finding. It will never do to have to fight the question of distribution in the Court of Chancery."—Here he threw himself on his sofa, and remained absorbed in thought for some time. Again he rose, and paced his room with folded arms. At length another view of the matter presented itself to him. "Suppose one were to sound Aubrey or Runnington on the subject, and tell them that I have prevailed on Titmouse to withdraw his claim to administer—in consideration of the moral certainty there is that Lady Stratton intended they should have the whole of her property—at all events of the amount of the policy.—Bah! that won't do! They'd never believe us! But who, in Heaven's name, is finding the funds for such a serious contest as this?—Runnington has no doubt got some of Aubrey's friends to come forward and make a last experiment on his behalf. But why take this particular move?" He drew a long breath, and every particle of color fled from his cheek. "Alas! alas! I now see it all. Miss Aubrey has betrayed me! She has told to her brother—to Runnington—what, in my madness, I mentioned to her! That explains all! Yes," he exclaimed aloud in a vehement tone, "you beautiful fiend, it is your hand that has commenced the work of destruction—as you suppose!"

Neither Lord De la Zouch nor Mr. Runnington saw any necessity for hesitating to apprise Mr. Aubrey of the steps they meditated taking on his behalf, as soon as they had come to the decision above recited, and for which, of course, it became necessary to obtain his sanction. During the course, therefore, of the day after that on which their determination had been taken, at Lord De la Zouch's desire, Mr. Runnington undertook to make the important communication to Mr. Aubrey. For a while he seemed to stagger under the weight of intelligence of such magnitude; and it was some time before he recovered calmness of feeling sufficient to appreciate the nature and consequences of the meditated step—viz. a direct, an immediate, and most formidable effort to replace him in the possession of the estates from which he had been some two years before displaced. But all other considerations were speedily absorbed in one which most profoundly affected him—the princely conduct of his friend Lord De la Zouch. Mr. Aubrey said scarce anything upon this topic for some time; but Mr. Runnington perceived how powerfully his feelings were excited. And will it occasion surprise when I say, that this feeling of gratitude towards the creature—towards the noble instrument—was presently itself merged into another, that of gratitude towards God, whose mysterious and beneficent purpose concerning him, he contemplated with a holy awe? Mr. Runnington was himself greatly moved by the spectacle before him; but desirous of relieving the increasing excitement under which he perceived Mr. Aubrey laboring, he kindly turned the conversation towards the practical details, and apprised him of the consultation which he had had with Sir Charles Wolstenholme, to all of which Mr. Aubrey listened with intense interest, and thoroughly appreciated the value of the admirable suggestion upon which they were acting. But Lord De la Zouch had, with a most delicate consideration, peremptorily enjoined Mr. Runnington not to acquaint Mr. Aubrey with the circumstance, either of his Lordship's having come over from France solely on his affairs, or of his meditated project of summarily releasing Mr. Aubrey from all his embarrassments. As soon as Mr. Runnington had informed Mr. Aubrey that he would find his Lordship then at Dover Street, and in readiness to receive him, that closed their interview; and Mr. Aubrey, in a state of extraordinary exhilaration of spirits, instantly set off to see his munificent benefactor, and pour out before him the homage of an oppressed and grateful heart. After a long interview, the character of which the reader may easily imagine, Lord De la Zouch insisted on setting out for Vivian Street—for he declared he could not let another hour pass without seeing those in whose welfare he felt so tender an interest: so arm in arm they walked thither; and it would have made any one's heart thrill with satisfaction to see the brightened countenance of poor Aubrey, as he walked along, full of joyful excitement, which was visible even in the elasticity and vigor of his step. It seemed as though a millstone had been taken from his neck; for though he was, indeed, of a somewhat sanguine temperament, yet had he not, in what had happened, solid ground to sustain the strongest and brightest hopes? Whether he was right, or whether he was wrong, still he entertained a confidence that it was God's good providence to which he was indebted for what had happened—and that He would bring it to a successful issue. They agreed together, as they neared Vivian Street, to be guided by circumstances, in communicating or withholding information of the glorious interference in their favor which was at that moment in active operation. Mr. Aubrey's knock—so vastly sharper and more energetic than was his wont—brought two fair creatures to the window in a trice—their faces pale with apprehension; but who shall tell the agitation they experienced on seeing Lord De la Zouch and Mr. Aubrey? 'Twas an affecting interview; here was their princely deliverer—the very soul of delicacy and generosity—for as such, indeed, they regarded him, though as yet ignorant of his last noble act of munificence! His Lordship's quick and affectionate eye detected, with much pain, on first seeing them, the ravages of the cankering anxiety which had been so long their lot; how much thinner were both of them, and was more especially Mr. Aubrey, than when he had last seen them! And the mourning which they wore for Lady Stratton made the delicate figures of Mrs. Aubrey and Kate appear slighter than even they really were. Their countenances, also, bore the traces of sorrow and suffering—but the expression was, if possible, lovelier than ever. The fire and spirit of Kate's blue eyes was subdued into an exquisite expression of serenity and pensiveness; but on the present occasion her bosom was agitated by so many conflicting feelings—she felt conscious that her very sense of embarrassment was a delicious one—as gave a surprising vivacity of expression to her features. Lord De la Zouch's heart melted within him, as he looked at them, and reflected on the sufferings through which they had passed, and felt a delighted consciousness of the pleasure which his appearance occasioned that virtuous but long oppressed and harassed family, and in the scene of their graceful and honorable poverty: and devout and earnest were his wish and his hope, that Providence would be pleased to crown with success his interference in their behalf. His Lordship would not be denied on one matter, upon which he declared that he had made up his mind—that they should all of them return with him to dinner in Dover Street;—and, to be sure, the sight of his carriage, which he had ordered to follow him within an hour's time, gave them to understand that he really was in earnest—and they both hastened up to dress, oh, with what bounding hearts, and elastic steps!—Lord De la Zouch felt, as they all sat together in his carriage, as though he were a fond father restored to the presence of long-afflicted children; and his courtesy was touched with an exquisite tenderness. When they entered the spacious and lofty drawing-rooms, which, though then wearing the deserted appearance incident to the season, reminded them of many former hours of splendid enjoyment, they felt a flutter of spirits, which it required no little effort to overcome. The drawing and dining rooms struck them as quite prodigious, from their contrast to the little apartments to which they had been so long accustomed in Vivian Street: and several other little circumstances revived recollections and associations of a painfully interesting nature; but as their spirits grew more exhilarated, they felt a sense of real enjoyment to which all of them had long been strangers. One or two sly allusions made by his Lordship to the probable future occupants of the house, and the more modern air they might choose, perhaps, to give it, suddenly brought as bright a bloom into Kate's cheek, as ever had mantled there! When they had returned home, it was impossible to think of bed—all of them had so much to say, and were in so joyous an excitement; and before they had parted for the night, Aubrey, unable any longer to keep to himself the true source of his enjoyment, electrified them by a frank and full disclosure of the great event of the day!

A day or two afterwards, Lord De la Zouch, having accomplished his benevolent purposes, returned to the Continent, having pledged Mr. Aubrey to communicate with him frequently, and particularly with reference to the progress of the important proceedings which he had caused to be set on foot. The splendid chance which now existed of retrieving his former position, was not allowed by Mr. Aubrey to interfere with his close attention to his professional studies, to which he might yet have to look for the only source of his future subsistence; and he continued his attendance at Mr. Mansfield's chambers with exemplary punctuality and energy. It was not long after Lord De la Zouch's second departure from England, that the melancholy events occurred which have just been narrated—I mean the serious illness of Lord Dreddlington, and the untimely death of Lady Cecilia. The Aubreys had no other intimation of those occurrences than such as they derived from the public papers—from which it appeared that his Lordship's illness had occasioned the fright which had ended in so sad a catastrophe with Lady Cecilia; and that his Lordship's illness had originated in agitation and distress, occasioned by the failure of extensive mercantile speculations into which he had allowed himself to be betrayed by designing persons. In passing down Park Lane, Mr. and Mrs. Aubrey, and Kate, saw a hatchment suspended from the house of Mr. Titmouse; and, some short time afterwards, they saw that bereaved gentleman himself, in the Park, driving a beautiful dark-blue cab, his tiger and he both in mourning—which became them equally. Black greatly alters most people's appearance; but it effected a peculiar change in Mr. Titmouse; the fact being, however, that, desirous of exhibiting even extra marks of respect for the memory of the dear deceased Lady Cecilia, he had put his sandy mustaches and imperial into mourning, by carefully dressing them with Indian ink, which gave a very touching and pensive character indeed to his features.