marry whom she pleased. Of all sources of evil and misery, money
appears to be the most prolific; in the present case its action was
twofold--Clara was rendered wretched in consequence of possessing it,
while the want of it incapacitated me from boldly claiming her hand at
once, which appeared to be the only effectual method of assisting her.

My meditations were at this point interrupted by the arrival of my
future privy counsellor, Peter Barnett, who marched solemnly into the
room, drew himself up to his full height, which very nearly equalled
that of the ceiling, brought his hand to his forehead in a military
salute, and then, closing the door cautiously, and with an air of
mystery, stood at ease, evidently intending me to open the conversation.

"Well, Peter," began I, by way of something to say, for I felt the
greatest difficulty in entering on the subject which then occupied my
thoughts before such an auditor. "Well, Peter, you have not kept me
waiting long; I scarcely expected to see you so soon: do you imagine
that Mr. Vernor will remark your absence?"

"He knows it already," was the reply. "Why, bless ye, sir, he ordered me
to go out hisself." "Indeed! how was that?"

"Why, as soon as you was gone, sir, he pulled the bell like mad. 'Send
Mr. Richard here,' says he. 'Yes, sir,' says I, 'certingly; only he's
not at home, sir.' When he heard this he grumbled out an oath, or
sumthin' of that nature, and I was going to take myself off, for I see
he wasn't altogether safe, when he roars out 'Stop!' ('You'd a said
"halt," if you'd a been a officer or a gentleman, which you ain't
neither,' thinks I.) 'What do you mean by letting people in when I have
given orders to the contrairy?' says he. 'Who was it as blowed me up for
sending away a gent as said he wanted to see you on partiklar business,
only yesterday?' says I. That bothered him nicely, and he didn't know
how to be down upon me; ~306~~ but at last he thought he'd serve me one
of his old tricks. So he says, 'Peter, what are you doing to-day'?' I
see what he was at, and I thought I'd ketch him in his own trap. 'Very
busy a cleaning plate, sir,' says I. This was enough for him: if I was
a cleaning plate, in course I shouldn't like to be sent out; so says he,
'Go down to Barnsley, and see whether Mr. Cumberland is there'. 'But the
plate, sir?' 'Never mind the plate.' 'It won't never look as it ought to
do, if I am sent about in this way,' says I. 'Do as you're orde