ou have it," replied Wingfield, kneeling beside him, "and may God
pardon us both--you for the wrong you did my daughter, me for being
accidentally the cause of your death. But I trust you are not mortally
hurt?"

"I have not many minutes to live," replied Argentine. "But is not that
Leonard Holt?"

"It is," said Rochester, stepping forward.

"I can then do one rightful act before I die," he said, raising himself
on one hand, and holding the other forcibly to his side, so as to stanch
in some degree the effusion of blood. "Leonard Holt," he continued, "my
sister Isabella loves you--deeply, devotedly. I have tried to conquer
the passion, but in vain. You have my consent to wed her."

"I am a witness to your words my lord," said Rochester, "and I call upon
all present to be so likewise."

"Rochester, you were once my friend," groaned Argentine, "and may yet be
a friend to the dead. Remember the king sells titles. Teach this young
man how to purchase one. My sister must not wed one of his degree."

"Make yourself easy on that score," replied Rochester; "he has already
sufficient claim upon the king. He saved his life yesterday."

"He will trust to a broken reed if he trusts to Charles's gratitude,"
replied Argentine. "Buy the title--_buy_ it, I say. My sister left me
yesterday. I visited my anger on her head, and she fled. I believe she
took refuge with Doctor Hodges, but I am sure he can tell you where she
is. One thing more," continued the dying man, fixing his glazing eyes on
Leonard. "Go to Newgate--to--to a prisoner there--an incendiary--and
obtain a document of him. Tell him, with my dying breath I charged you
to do this. It will enable you to act as I have directed. Promise me you
will go. Promise me you will fulfil my injunctions."

"I do," replied Leonard.

"Enough," rejoined Argentine. "May you be happy with Isabella." And
removing his hand from his side, a copious effusion of blood followed,
and, sinking backwards, he expired.

VII.

THE BURNING OF SAINT PAUL'S.

Several other persons having by this time come up, the body of Lord
Argentine was conveyed to Bishop Kempe's Chapel, and left there till a
fitting season should arrive for its removal. Confounded by the tragical
event that had taken place, Leonard remained with his eyes fixed upon
the blood-stained pavement, until he was roused by an arm which gently
drew him away, while the voice of the Earl of Rochester breathed in his
ear, "This is