, probably, in the obscurity of Ireland, they will never
more be heard of.

"Amongst the strange coincidences of this strange event, another still
remains to be told. It was in the hands of the firm of Rogers and Raper
that these documents were deposited, and Mr. Raper himself has passed
half a lifetime in the vain search for the very piece of evidence which
mere chance has thus presented to him.

"That Gervois, the celebrated impostor in this case, must have, by some
means or other, obtained an insight into the strange circumstances of
this story, is quite evident, and we understand that the order for
his departure has been countermanded till he be interrogated as to the
amount of his knowledge, and the sources from which he derived it. Mr.
Raper and the Countess of Gabriac, an Irishwoman by birth, are expected
daily to arrive in this country, and we may look forward to their coming
for the elucidation of one of the most curious stories in our domestic
annals.

"There is a story current that Lady Hester Stanhope remembers, some
years back, a young man having presented himself to Mr. Pitt as the son
of the late Walter Carew, and shown certain papers to authenticate his
claim; and as the occurrence took place subsequent to the year '95, it
is evident that if his pretensions were well founded, there could be
no truth in the account of his having fallen in the 'Battle of the
Sections.'"

I have no heart to speak of how these passages affected me. To hear that
my dear mother and Raper still lived; that they not only remembered me,
but that their deep devotion to my cause still animated them,--was too
much to bear! Bruised, and shattered, and broken down by fortune, this
proof of affection kindled the almost dead embers of feeling within me,
and I fell upon my knees in thankful prayer to Heaven that I was not
deserted nor forgotten! It was no longer rank, and wealth, and riches
that glittered before me. I sought for no splendors of fortune or high
estate. All that I asked, all that I prayed for, was an honorable
name before man, and that love which should once more reconcile me to
myself,--lift me from the lonely depths of my isolation, and make a home
for me with those to whom I was dear.

"On deck, Gervois," said the turnkey, arousing me from a deep revery a
few days after this interview; "on deck--here are some strangers want to
have a look at ye."

I slowly followed him up the ladder. I was weak and sickly, but no