ember, yet could not absolutely name as his kinsman's--was
looking towards him from the Gothic window. A deeper sleep wrestled
with and nearly overcame him, but fled at the sound of footsteps along
the opposite pavement. Robin rubbed his eyes, discerned a man passing
at the foot of the balcony, and addressed him in a loud, peevish, and
lamentable cry.

"Hallo, friend! must I wait here all night for my kinsman, Major
Molineux?"

The sleeping echoes awoke, and answered the voice; and the passenger,
barely able to discern a figure sitting in the oblique shade of the
steeple, traversed the street to obtain a nearer view. He was himself a
gentleman in his prime, of open, intelligent, cheerful, and altogether
prepossessing countenance. Perceiving a country youth, apparently
homeless and without friends, he accosted him in a tone of real
kindness, which had become strange to Robin's ears.

"Well, my good lad, why are you sitting here?" inquired he. "Can I be
of service to you in any way?"

"I am afraid not, sir," replied Robin, despondingly; "yet I shall take
it kindly, if you'll answer me a single question. I've been searching,
half the night, for one Major Molineux, now, sir, is there really such
a person in these parts, or am I dreaming?"

"Major Molineux! The name is not altogether strange to me," said the
gentleman, smiling. "Have you any objection to telling me the nature of
your business with him?"

Then Robin briefly related that his father was a clergyman, settled on
a small salary, at a long distance back in the country, and that he and
Major Molineux were brothers' children. The Major, having inherited
riches, and acquired civil and military rank, had visited his cousin,
in great pomp, a year or two before; had manifested much interest in
Robin and an elder brother, and, being childless himself, had thrown
out hints respecting the future establishment of one of them in life.
The elder brother was destined to succeed to the farm which his father
cultivated in the interval of sacred duties; it was therefore
determined that Robin should profit by his kinsman's generous
intentions, especially as he seemed to be rather the favorite, and was
thought to possess other necessary endowments.

"For I have the name of being a shrewd youth," observed Robin, in this
part of his story.

"I doubt not you deserve it," replied his new friend, good-naturedly;
"but pray proceed."

"Well, sir, being nearly eighteen years old