ing are
doubtless ardent--and they are yours!

"Write me a line by the bearer to assure me of your belief in my
sincerity.

"Yours,

"C. CESARINI."

"Copy out this letter, I want its ditto--quick. Now seal and direct the
duplicate," continued Ferrers; "that's right; go into the hall, give it
yourself to Lady Florence's servant, and beg him to take it to Seamore
Place, wait for an answer, and bring it here; by which time you will
have a note ready for Lady Florence. Say I will mention this to her
ladyship, and give the man half-a-crown. There, begone."

"I do not understand a word of this," said Cesarini, when he returned:
"will you explain?"

"Certainly; the copy of the note you have despatched to Maltravers I
shall show to Lady Florence this evening, as a proof of your sobered
and generous feelings; observe, it is so written, that the old letter of
your rival may seem an exact reply to it. To-morrow a reference to this
note of yours will bring out our scheme more easily; and if you follow
my instructions, you will not seem to _volunteer_ showing our handiwork,
as we at first intended; but rather to yield it to her eyes, from
a generous impulse, from an irresistible desire to save her from an
unworthy husband and a wretched fate. Fortune has been dealing our cards
for us, and has turned up the ace. Three to one now on the odd trick.
Maltravers, too, is at home. I called at his house, on returning from my
uncle's, and learned that he would not stir out all the evening."

In due time came the answer from Ernest: it was short and hurried; but
full of all the manly kindness of his nature; it expressed admiration
and delight at the tone of Cesarini's letter; it revoked all former
expressions derogatory to Lady Florence; it owned the harshness and
error of his first impressions; it used every delicate argument that
could soothe and reconcile Cesarini; and concluded by sentiments of
friendship and desire of service, so cordial, so honest, so free from
the affectation of patronage, that even Cesarini himself, half insane as
he was with passion, was almost softened. Lumley saw the change in his
countenance--snatched the letter from his hand--read it--threw it into
the fire--and saying, "We must guard against accidents," clapped the
Italian affectionately on the shoulder, and added, "Now you can have no
remorse; for a more Jesuitical piece of insulting hypocritical cant I
never read. Where's your note to Lady F