d a bashful excuse,
accepted the proposal. In a few moments the young lady and the beau
were in deep and whispered conversation, their heads turned towards the
window. The pale gentleman continued to gaze at Philip, till the latter,
perceiving the notice he excited, coloured, and replaced his cap over
his face.

"Are you going to N----? asked the gentleman, in a gentle, timid voice.

"Yes!"

"Is it the first time you have ever been there?"

"Sir!" returned Philip, in a voice that spoke surprise and distaste at
his neighbour's curiosity.

"Forgive me," said the gentleman, shrinking back; "but you remind me
of-of--a family I once knew in the town. Do you know--the--the Mortons?"

One in Philip's situation, with, as he supposed, the officers of justice
in his track (for Gawtrey, for reasons of his own, rather encouraged
than allayed his fears), might well be suspicious. He replied therefore
shortly, "I am quite a stranger to the town," and ensconced himself in
the corner, as if to take a nap. Alas! that answer was one of the many
obstacles he was doomed to build up between himself and a fairer fate.

The gentleman sighed again, and never spoke more to the end of the
journey. When the coach halted at the inn,--the same inn which had
before given its shelter to poor Catherine,--the young man in the white
coat opened the door, and offered his arm to the young lady.

"Do you make any stay here, sir?" said she to the beau, as she unpinned
her bonnet from the roof.

"Perhaps so; I am waiting for my phe-a-ton, which my faellow is to bring
down,--tauking a little tour."

"We shall be very happy to see you, sir!" said the young lady, on whom
the phe-a-ton completed the effect produced by the gentleman's previous
gallantries; and with that she dropped into his hand a very neat card,
on which was printed, "Wavers and Snow, Staymakers, High Street."

The beau put the card gracefully into his pocket-leaped from the
coach-nudged aside his rival of the white coat, and offered his arm to
the lady, who leaned on it affectionately as she descended.

"This gentleman has been so perlite to me, James," said she. James
touched his hat; the beau clapped him on the shoulder,--"Ah! you are
not a hauppy man,--are you? Oh no, not at all a hauppy man!--Good day to
you! Guard, that hat-box is mine!"

While Philip was paying the coachman, the beau passed, and whispered
him--

"Recollect old Gregg--anything on the lay here--don't spoil