iving out one by one, jerked first a letter to Camilla, next a
letter to Vaudemont, and, thirdly, seized a letter for himself.

"I beg that there may be no ceremony, Monsieur de Vaudemont: pray excuse
me and follow my example: I see this letter is from my son;" and he
broke the seal.

The letter ran thus:

"MY DEAR FATHER,--Almost as soon as you receive this, I shall be with
you. Ill as I am, I can have no peace till I see and consult you. The
most startling--the most painful intelligence has just been conveyed to
me. It is of a nature not to bear any but personal communication.

"Your affectionate son,
"ARTHUR BEAUFORT.
"Boulogne.

"P.S.--This will go by the same packet-boat that I shall take myself,
and can only reach you a few hours before I arrive."

Mr. Beaufort's trembling hand dropped the letter--he grasped the elbow
of the chair to save himself from falling. It was clear!--the same
visitor who had persecuted himself had now sought his son! He grew
sick, his son might have heard the witness--might be convinced. His son
himself now appeared to him as a foe--for the father dreaded the son's
honour! He glanced furtively round the table, till his eye rested on
Vaudemont, and his terror was redoubled, for Vaudemont's face, usually
so calm, was animated to an extraordinary degree, as he now lifted it
from the letter he had just read. Their eyes met. Robert Beaufort looked
on him as a prisoner at the bar looks on the accusing counsel, when he
first commences his harangue.

"Mr. Beaufort," said the guest, "the letter you have given me summons me
to London on important business, and immediately. Suffer me to send for
horses at your earliest convenience."

"What's the matter?" said the feeble and seldom heard voice of Mrs.
Beaufort. "What's the matter, Robert?--is Arthur coming?"

"He comes to-day," said the father, with a deep sigh; and Vaudemont,
at that moment rising from his half-finished breakfast, with a bow that
included the group, and with a glance that lingered on Camilla, as she
bent over her own unopened letter (a letter from Winandermere, the seal
of which she dared not yet to break), quitted the room. He hastened to
his own chamber, and strode to and fro with a stately step--the step
of the Master--then, taking forth the letter, he again hurried over its
contents. They ran thus:

DEAR, Sir,--At last the missing witness has applied to me. He proves
to be, as you conje