the villain?"

"Oh, the man I had loved as a friend; the man whom I myself helped to
make known to Trevanion,--Vivian, Vivian!"

"Vivian! Ah, the youth I have heard you speak of! But how? Villany to
whom,--to Trevanion?"

"You torture me with your questions. Listen: this Vivian (I know
him),--he has introduced into the house, as a servant, an agent capable
of any trick and fraud; that servant has aided him to win over her
maid,--Fanny's--Miss Trevanion's. Miss Trevanion is an heiress, Vivian
an adventurer. My head swims round; I cannot explain now. Ha! I will
write a line to Lord Castleton,--tell him my fears and suspicions; he
will follow us, I know, or do what is best."

I drew ink and paper towards me and wrote hastily. My uncle came round
and looked over my shoulder.

Suddenly he exclaimed, seizing my arm: "Gower, Gower! What name is this?
You said Vivian."

"Vivian or Gower,--the same person."

My uncle hurried out of the room. It was natural that he should leave me
to make our joint and brief preparations for departure.

I finished my letter, sealed it, and when, five minutes afterwards, the
chaise came to the door, I gave it to the hostler who accompanied the
horses, with injunctions to deliver it forthwith to Lord Castleton
himself.

My uncle now descended, and stepped from the threshold with a firm
stride. "Comfort yourself," he said, as he entered the chaise, into
which I had already thrown myself. "We may be mistaken yet."

"Mistaken! You do not know this young man. He has every quality that
could entangle a girl like Fanny, and not, I fear, one sentiment of
honor that would stand in the way of his ambition. I judge him now as by
a revelation--too late--Oh Heavens, if it be too late!"

A groan broke from Roland's lips. I heard in it a proof of his sympathy
with my emotion, and grasped his hand, it was as cold as the hand of the
dead.

PART XV.

CHAPTER I.

There would have been nothing in what had chanced to justify the
suspicions that tortured me, but for my impressions as to the character
of Vivian.

Reader, hast thou not, in the easy, careless sociability of youth,
formed acquaintance with some one in whose more engaging or brilliant
qualities thou hast,--not lost that dislike to defects or vices which
is natural to an age when, even while we err, we adore what is good,
and glow with enthusiasts for the ennobling sentiment and the virtuous
deed,--no, happily, not lost disl