him all his iniquities when it suited to do so. Young men might get
in debt, and gamble, and make love wherever they pleased, and all at
once,--and yet be forgiven. All these things were very bad. It might
be just to call a man a scoundrel because he could not pay his debts,
or because he made bets about horses. Young men did a great many
things which would be horrid indeed were a girl to do them. Then one
papa would call such a man a scoundrel, because he was not wanted
to come to the house; while another papa would make him welcome,
and give him the best of everything. Ralph Newton might be a
scoundrel; but if so,--as Clarissa thought,--there were a great
many good-looking scoundrels about in the world, as to whom their
scoundrelism did very little to injure them in the esteem of all
their friends. It was thus that Clarissa was thinking over her own
affairs when Gregory Newton was shown into the room.

The greeting on both sides was at first formal and almost cold. Clary
had given a little start of surprise, and had then subsided into a
most demure mode of answering questions. Yes; papa was at Percycross.
She did not know when he was expected back. Mary and Patience were in
London. Yes;--she was at home all alone. No; she had not seen Ralph
since his uncle's death. The question which elicited this answer had
been asked without any design, and Clary endeavoured to make her
reply without emotion. If she displayed any, Gregory, who had his own
affairs upon his mind, did not see it. No;--they had not seen the
other Mr. Newton as he passed through town. They had all understood
that he had been very much disturbed by his father's horrible
accident and death. Then Gregory paused in his questions, and
Clarissa expressed a hope that there might be no more hunting in the
world.

It was very hard work, this conversation, and Gregory was beginning
to think that he had done no good by coming, when on a sudden he
struck a chord from whence came a sound of music. "Ralph and I have
been living together at the Priory," he said.

"Oh;--indeed; yes;--I think I heard Patience say that you were at the
Priory."

"I suppose I shall not be telling any secret to you in talking about
him and your cousin Mary?"

Clarissa felt that she was blushing up to her brow, but she made a
great effort to compose herself. "Oh, no," she said, "we all know of
it."

"I hope he may be successful," said Gregory.

"I do not know. I cannot tell."

"I