re is strong within him--!'

He was at this point when Lord Ormersfield entered, and after his daily
civil ceremonious inquiries of the ladies whether they had walked or
driven out, he turned to his son, saying, 'I met Mr. Calcott just now,
and heard from him that he had been sorry to convict a person in whom
you took interest, a lad from Marksedge. What did you know of him?'

'I was prompted by common justice and humanity,' said Louis. 'My
protection was claimed for the poor boy, as the son of an old servant
of ours.'

'Indeed! I think you must have been imposed on. Mr. Calcott spoke of
the family as notorious poachers.'

'Find a poor fellow on the wrong side of a hedge, and not a squire but
will swear that he is a hardened ruffian!'

'Usually with reason,' said the Earl. 'Pray when did this person's
parents allege that they had been in my service?'

'It was his mother. Her name was Blackett, and she left us on her
marriage with one of the Hodgekins.'

Lord Ormersfield rang the bell, and Frampton, the butler and
confidential servant, formed on his own model, made his appearance.

'Do you know whether a woman of the name of Blackett ever lived in
service here?'

'Not that I am aware of, my Lord. I will ascertain the fact.'

In a few moments Frampton returned. 'Yes, my Lord, a girl named
Blackett was once engaged to help in the scullery, but was discharged
for dishonesty at the end of a month.'

'Did not Frampton know that that related to me?' said Louis, sotto
voce, to his aunt. 'Did he not trust that he was reducing me from a
sea anemone to a lump of quaking jelly?'

So far from this consummation, Lord Fitzjocelyn looked as triumphant as
Don Quixote liberating Gines de Pasamonte. He and his father might
have sat for illustrations of

'Youth is full of pleasance,
Age is full of care,'

as they occupied the two ends of the dinner-table; the Earl concealing
anxiety and vexation, under more than ordinary punctilious politeness;
the Viscount doing his share of the honours with easy, winning grace
and attention, and rattling on in an under-tone of lively conversation
with Aunt Catharine. Mary was silently amazed at her encouraging him;
but perhaps she could not help spoiling him the more, because there was
a storm impending. At least, as soon as she was in the drawing-room,
she became restless and nervous, and said that she wished his father
could see that speaking sternly to