nce of mind, and reseated myself: "Pray
forgive me, Lady Harriett," said I; "but I think, nay, I am sure, I see
a person I once met under very particular circumstances. Do you observe
that dark man in deep mourning, who has just entered the room, and is
now speaking to Sir Ralph Rumford?"

"I do, it is Sir John Tyrrell!" replied Lady Harriett: "he only came to
Cheltenham yesterday. His is a very singular history."

"What is it?" said I, eagerly.

"Why! he was the only son of a younger branch of the Tyrrells; a very
old family, as the name denotes. He was a great deal in a certain roue
set, for some years, and was celebrated for his affaires du coeur. His
fortune was, however, perfectly unable to satisfy his expenses; he took
to gambling, and lost the remains of his property. He went abroad,
and used to be seen at the low gaming houses at Paris, earning a very
degraded and precarious subsistence; till, about three months ago, two
persons, who stood between him and the title and estates of the family,
died, and most unexpectedly he succeeded to both. They say that he was
found in the most utter penury and distress, in a small cellar at Paris;
however that may be, he is now Sir John Tyrrell, with a very large
income, and in spite of a certain coarseness of manner, probably
acquired by the low company he latterly kept, he is very much liked, and
even admired by the few good people in the society of Cheltenham."

At this instant Tyrrell passed us; he caught my eye, stopped short, and
coloured violently. I bowed; he seemed undecided for a moment as to
the course he should adopt; it was but for a moment. He returned my
salutation with great appearance of cordiality; shook me warmly by
the hand; expressed himself delighted to meet me; inquired where I was
staying, and said he should certainly call upon me. With this promise he
glided on, and was soon lost among the crowd.

"Where did you meet him?" said Lady Harriett.

"At Paris."

"What! was he in decent society there?"

"I don't know," said I. "Good night, Lady Harriett;" and, with an air of
extreme lassitude, I took my hat, and vanished from that motley mixture
of the fashionably low and the vulgarly genteel!

CHAPTER XLI.

Full many a lady I have eyed with best regard, and many a time The
harmony of their tongues hath unto bondage Drawn my too diligent eyes.
But you, oh! you, So perfect and so peerless, are created Of every
creature's best.--Shakspeare.