nobleman; but still it indicates want of individual character. Now Tom,
I think I have a character. I mean an original character. Don't
every one almost say--I allude, of course, to every one of sense and
penetration--Dunroe's a character--quite an original--an enigma--a
sphinx--an inscription that cannot be deciphered--an illegible
dog--eh--don't they, Tom?"

"Not a doubt of it, my lord. Even I, who ought to know you so well, can
make nothing of you."

"Well, but after all, Tom, my father's name overshadows a great number
of my venialities. Dunroe is wild, they say, but then he is the son of a
most respectable old nobleman; and so, many of them shrug and pity, when
they would otherwise assail and blame."

"And I hope to live long enough to see you a most respectable old
'character' yet, my dear Dunroe. I must go as your representative to
these d-----d ravenous duns. But mark me, comport yourself in your
father's and sister's presence as a young man somewhat meditating upon
the reformation of his life, so that a favorable impression may be made
here, and a favorable report reach the baronet's fair daughter. _Au
revoir_."

CHAPTER XX. Interview between Lords Cullamore, Dunroe, and Lady Emily

--Tom Norton's Aristocracy fails Him--His Reception by Lord Cullamore.

At the hour appointed, Lord Dunroe's father and sister arrived. The old
peer, as his son usually, but not in the most reverential spirit, termed
him, on entering his sleeping chamber, paused for a moment in the middle
of the room, as if to ascertain his precise state of health; but his
sister, Lady Emily, with all the warmth of a young and affectionate
heart, pure as the morning dew-drop, ran to his bedside, and with tears
in her eyes, stooped down and kissed him, exclaiming at the same time,

"My dear Dunroe; but no--I hate those cold and formal titles--they are
for the world, but not for brother and sister. My dear John, how is your
wound? Thank God, it is not dangerous, I hear. Are you better? Will you
soon be able to rise? My dear brother, how I was alarmed on hearing it;
but there is another kiss to help to cure you."

"My dear Emily, what the deuce are you about? I tell you I have a
prejudice against kissing female relations. It is too tame, and somewhat
of a bore, child, especially to a sick man."

His father now approached him with a grave, but by no means an unfeeling
countenance, and extending his hand, said, "I fear, John, that this