to the earth insensible.

CHAPTER XI.

"Vous me rendrez mon frere!"
CASIMER DELAVIGNE: Les Enfans d'Edouard.

['You shall restore me my brother!]

One evening, a week after this event, a wild, tattered, haggard youth
knocked at the door of Mr. Robert Beaufort. The porter slowly presented
himself.

"Is your master at home? I must see him instantly."

"That's more than you can, my man; my master does not see the like
of you at this time of night," replied the porter, eying the ragged
apparition before him with great disdain.

"See me he must and shall," replied the young man; and as the porter
blocked up the entrance, he grasped his collar with a hand of iron,
swung him, huge as he was, aside, and strode into the spacious hall.

"Stop! stop!" cried the porter, recovering himself. "James! John! here's
a go!"

Mr. Robert Beaufort had been back in town several days. Mrs. Beaufort,
who was waiting his return from his club, was in the dining-room.
Hearing a noise in the hall, she opened the door, and saw the strange
grim figure I have described, advancing towards her. "Who are you?" said
she; "and what do you want?"

"I am Philip Morton. Who are you?"

"My husband," said Mrs. Beaufort, shrinking into the parlour, while
Morton followed her and closed the door, "my husband, Mr. Beaufort, is
not at home."

"You are Mrs. Beaufort, then! Well, you can understand me. I want my
brother. He has been basely reft from me. Tell me where he is, and I
will forgive all. Restore him to me, and I will bless you and yours."
And Philip fell on his knees and grasped the train of her gown. "I know
nothing of your brother, Mr. Morton," cried Mrs. Beaufort, surprised
and alarmed. "Arthur, whom we expect every day, writes us word that all
search for him has been in vain."

"Ha! you admit the search?" cried Morton, rising and clenching his
hands. "And who else but you or yours would have parted brother and
brother? Answer me where he is. No subterfuge, madam: I am desperate!"

Mrs. Beaufort, though a woman of that worldly coldness and indifference
which, on ordinary occasions, supply the place of courage, was extremely
terrified by the tone and mien of her rude guest. She laid her hand
on the bell; but Morton seized her arm, and, holding it sternly, said,
while his dark eyes shot fire through the glimmering room, "I will
not stir hence till you have told me. Will you reject my gratitude, my
blessing? Beware!