f my
peace of mind. I quite thank him.'

'The truth of what I tell you, dear young lady,' he replied, 'you will
test by the receipt or non-receipt of the letter of which I speak.
Haredale, my dear fellow, I am delighted to see you, although we meet
under singular circumstances, and upon a melancholy occasion. I hope you
are very well.'

At these words the young lady raised her eyes, which were filled with
tears; and seeing that her uncle indeed stood before them, and being
quite unequal to the trial of hearing or of speaking one word more,
hurriedly withdrew, and left them. They stood looking at each other, and
at her retreating figure, and for a long time neither of them spoke.

'What does this mean? Explain it,' said Mr Haredale at length. 'Why are
you here, and why with her?'

'My dear friend,' rejoined the other, resuming his accustomed manner
with infinite readiness, and throwing himself upon the bench with a
weary air, 'you told me not very long ago, at that delightful old
tavern of which you are the esteemed proprietor (and a most charming
establishment it is for persons of rural pursuits and in robust health,
who are not liable to take cold), that I had the head and heart of an
evil spirit in all matters of deception. I thought at the time; I
really did think; you flattered me. But now I begin to wonder at your
discernment, and vanity apart, do honestly believe you spoke the truth.
Did you ever counterfeit extreme ingenuousness and honest indignation?
My dear fellow, you have no conception, if you never did, how faint the
effort makes one.'

Mr Haredale surveyed him with a look of cold contempt. 'You may evade an
explanation, I know,' he said, folding his arms. 'But I must have it. I
can wait.'

'Not at all. Not at all, my good fellow. You shall not wait a moment,'
returned his friend, as he lazily crossed his legs. 'The simplest thing
in the world. It lies in a nutshell. Ned has written her a letter--a
boyish, honest, sentimental composition, which remains as yet in
his desk, because he hasn't had the heart to send it. I have taken a
liberty, for which my parental affection and anxiety are a sufficient
excuse, and possessed myself of the contents. I have described them
to your niece (a most enchanting person, Haredale; quite an angelic
creature), with a little colouring and description adapted to our
purpose. It's done. You may be quite easy. It's all over. Deprived of
their adherents and mediators; her