and
shaking Bill by the hand, and patting Bob on the head, he set out on his
journey.

Bill reseated himself, muttering, "Bully a body-snatcher! Drot that
Grabman, does he want to get rid of poor Bill?"

Meanwhile Bob exhibited slyly, to his second brother, the sight of
Beck's stolen coral. The children took care not to show it to their
father. They were already inspired by the laudable ambition to set up in
business on their own account.

CHAPTER VIII. PERCIVAL VISITS LUCRETIA.

Having once ascertained the house in which Helen lived, it was no
difficult matter for St. John to learn the name of the guardian whom
Beck had supposed to be her mother. No common delight mingled with
Percival's amaze when in that name he recognized one borne by his own
kinswoman. Very little indeed of the family history was known to him.
Neither his father nor his mother ever willingly conversed of the fallen
heiress,--it was a subject which the children had felt to be proscribed;
but in the neighbourhood, Percival had of course heard some mention of
Lucretia as the haughty and accomplished Miss Clavering, who had, to the
astonishment of all, stooped to a mesalliance with her uncle's French
librarian. That her loss of the St. John property, the succession of
Percival's father, were unexpected by the villagers and squires around,
and perhaps set down to the caprice of Sir Miles, or to an intellect
impaired by apoplectic attacks, it was not likely that he should have
heard. The rich have the polish of their education, and the poor that
instinctive tact, so wonderful amongst the agricultural peasantry, to
prevent such unmannerly disclosures or unwelcome hints; and both by rich
and poor, the Vernon St. Johns were too popular and respected for wanton
allusions to subjects calculated to pain them. All, therefore, that
Percival knew of his relation was that she had resided from infancy with
Sir Miles; that after their uncle's death she had married an inferior in
rank, of the name of Dalibard, and settled abroad; that she was a person
of peculiar manners, and, he had heard somewhere, of rare gifts. He
had been unable to learn the name of the young lady staying with Madame
Dalibard; he had learned only that she went by some other name, and
was not the daughter of the lady who rented the house. Certainly it was
possible that this last might not be his kinswoman, after all. The
name, though strange to English ears, and not common in France, wa