en we
separated, Harcourt requested leave to call upon me the next morning,
and Mr Masterton said that he should also pay his respects to the
tiger, as he invariably called my most honoured parent.

Harcourt was with me very soon after breakfast; and after I had
introduced him to my "Governor," we retired to talk without
interruption.

"I have much to say to you, De Benyon," commenced Harcourt: "first let
me tell you, that after I rose from my bed, and discovered that you had
disappeared, I resolved, if possible, to find you out and induce you to
come back. Timothy, who looked very sly at me, would tell me nothing,
but that the last that was heard of you was at Lady de Clare's, at
Richmond. Having no other clue, I went down there, introduced myself,
and, as they will tell you, candidly acknowledged that I had treated you
ill. I then requested that they would give me any clue by which you
might be found, for I had an opportunity of offering to you a situation
which was at my father's disposal, and which any gentlemen might have
accepted, although it was not very lucrative."

"It was very kind of you, Harcourt."

"Do not say that, I beg. It was thus that I formed an acquaintance with
Lady de Clare and her daughter, whose early history, as Fleta, I had
obtained from you, but who, I little imagined to be the little girl that
you had so generously protected; for it was not until after I had
deserted you, that you had discovered her parentage. The extreme
interest relative to you evinced by both the mother and the daughter
surprised me. They had heard of my name from you, but not of our
quarrel. They urged me, and thanked me for proposing to follow you and
find you out: I did make every attempt. I went to Brentford, inquired
at all the public-houses, and of all the coachmen who went down the
road, but could obtain no information, except that at one public-house a
gentleman stopped with a portmanteau, and soon afterwards went away with
it on his shoulders. I returned to Richmond with the tidings of my
ill-success about a week after I had first called there. Cecilia was
much affected, and cried very bitterly. I could not help asking Lady de
Clare why she took such a strong interest in your fortunes. `Who
ought,' replied Cecilia, `if his poor Fleta does not?' `Good Heavens!
Miss de Clare, are you the little Fleta whom he found with the gipsies,
and talked to me so much about?' `Did you not know it?' said Lady d