"I--really--could--not--sir."

"Twenty."

The fellow paused and looked stealthily in every direction, when, just
at the moment he was about to entertain the subject, Thomas Corbet, the
house-steward, came forward from the front parlor where he evidently had
been listening, and asked Gibson what was the matter.

"This gentleman," said Gibson, "ahem--is anxious to have a--ahem--he was
inquiring for Sir Thomas."

"Gibson, go down stairs," said Corbet. "You had better do so. I have
ears, Gibson. Go down at once, and leave the gentleman to me."

Gibson again licked his lips, shrugged his shoulders, and with a visage
rather blank and disappointed, slunk away as he had been desired. When
he had gone,

"You wish, sir," said Corbet, "to have a note delivered to Miss
Gourlay?"

"I do, and will give you twenty pounds if you deliver it."

"Hand me the money quietly," replied Corbet, "and the note also. I shall
then give you a friend's advice."

The stranger immediately placed both the money and the note in his
hands; when Corbet, having put them in his pocket, said, "I will
deliver the note, sir; but go to my father, and ask him to prevent this
marriage; and, above all things, to direct you how to act. If any man
can serve you in the business, he can."

"Could you not let me see Miss Gourlay herself?" said the stranger.

"No, sir; she has promised her father neither to see you, nor to write
to you, nor to receive any letters from you."

"But I must see Sir Thomas himself," said the stranger determinedly.

"You seem a good deal excited, sir," replied Corbet; "pray, be calm, and
listen to me. I shall be obliged to put this letter under a blank cover,
which I will address in a feigned hand, in order that she may even
receive it. As for her father, he would not see you, nor enter into any
explanation whatsoever with you. In fact, he is almost out of his mind
with delight and terror; with delight, that the marriage is at length
about to take place, and with terror, lest something might occur to
prevent it. One word, sir. I see Gibson peeping up. Go and see my
father; you have seen him more than once before."

On the part of Corbet, the stranger remarked that there was something
sneaking, slightly derisive, and intimating, moreover, a want of
sincerity in this short dialogue, an impression that was strengthened
on hearing the relation which he bore to the obstinate old sphinx on
Constitution Hill.

"But pardon me, my f