a voice that made the old man upset his glass,
and spring from his chair in horror.

"What the devil is the matter with the boy. What makes you so pale?"

"Whose name did you say at that moment, sir," said I with a slowness of
speech that cost me agony.

"Lord Callonby, my old schoolfellow and fag at Eton."

"And the lady's name, sir?" said I, in scarcely an audible whisper.

"I'm sure I forget her name; but here's the letter from Guy, and I think
he mentions her name in the postscript."

I snatched rudely the half-opened letter from the old man, as he was
vainly endeavouring to detect the place he wanted, and read as follows:

"My adored Jane is all your fondest wishes for my happiness could
picture, and longs to see her dear uncle, as she already calls you on
every occasion." I read no more--my eyes swam--the paper, the candles,
every thing before me, was misty and confused; and although I heard my
uncle's voice still going on, I knew nothing of what he said.

For some time my mind could not take in the full extent of the base
treachery I had met with, and I sat speechless and stupified. By degrees
my faculties became clearer, and with one glance I read the whole
business, from my first meeting with them at Kilrush to the present
moment. I saw that in their attentions to me, they thought they were
winning the heir of Elton, the future proprietor of fifteen thousand per
annum. From this tangled web of heartless intrigue I turned my thoughts
to Lady Jane herself. How had she betrayed me! for certainly she had not
only received, but encouraged my addresses--and so soon, too.--To think
that at the very moment when my own precipitate haste to see her had
involved me in a nearly fatal accident, she was actually receiving the
attentions of another! Oh, it was too, too bad.

But enough--even now I can scarcely dwell upon the memory of that moment,
when the hopes and dreams of many a long day and night were destined to
be thus rudely blighted. I seized the first opportunity of bidding my
uncle good night; and having promised him to reveal all my plans on the
morrow, hurried to my room.

My plans! alas, I had none--that one fatal paragraph had scattered them
to the winds; and I threw myself upon my bed, wretched and almost
heart-broken.

I have once before in these "Confessions" claimed to myself the
privilege, not inconsistent with a full disclosure of the memorabilia of
my life, to pass slightly over those