ht, told her bluntly that he saw she was bent upon
going off with the Count, and bade her take precautions: else she might
be left as she had been before.

Catherine denied all these charges; but she saw the Count daily,
notwithstanding, and took all the measures which Wood had recommended to
her. They were very prudent ones. Galgenstein grew hourly more in love:
never had he felt such a flame; not in the best days of his youth; not
for the fairest princess, countess, or actress, from Vienna to Paris.

At length--it was the night after he had seen Hayes counting his
money-bags--old Wood spoke to Mrs. Hayes very seriously. "That husband
of yours, Cat," said he, "meditates some treason; ay, and fancies we are
about such. He listens nightly at your door and at mine: he is going to
leave you, be sure on't; and if he leaves you, he leaves you to starve."

"I can be rich elsewhere," said Mrs. Cat.

"What, with Max?"

"Ay, with Max: and why not?" said Mrs. Hayes.

"Why not, fool! Do you recollect Birmingham? Do you think that
Galgenstein, who is so tender now because he HASN'T won you, will be
faithful because he HAS? Psha, woman, men are not made so! Don't go to
him until you are sure: if you were a widow now, he would marry you; but
never leave yourself at his mercy: if you were to leave your husband to
go to him, he would desert you in a fortnight!"

She might have been a Countess! she knew she might, but for this cursed
barrier between her and her fortune. Wood knew what she was thinking of,
and smiled grimly.

"Besides," he continued, "remember Tom. As sure as you leave Hayes
without some security from Max, the boy's ruined: he who might be a
lord, if his mother had but--Psha! never mind: that boy will go on
the road, as sure as my name's Wood. He's a Turpin cock in his eye, my
dear,--a regular Tyburn look. He knows too many of that sort already;
and is too fond of a bottle and a girl to resist and be honest when it
comes to the pinch."

"It's all true," said Mrs. Hayes. "Tom's a high mettlesome fellow, and
would no more mind a ride on Hounslow Heath than he does a walk now in
the Mall."

"Do you want him hanged, my dear?" said Wood.

"Ah, Doctor!"

"It IS a pity, and that's sure," concluded Mr. Wood, knocking the ashes
out of his pipe, and closing this interesting conversation. "It is a
pity that that old skinflint should be in the way of both your fortunes;
and he about to fling you over, too!"

Mrs. Ca