ir. As Peter was much too modest to talk in the presence
of Mr. John Moseley and a lord, the young men had most of the discourse to
themselves. At a village fifteen miles from London, a fashionable carriage
and four, with the coronet of a marquis was in waiting for Lord Henry.
John refused his invitation to take a seat with him to town; for he had
traced Denbigh from stage to stage, and was fearful of losing sight of
him, unless he persevered in the manner he had commenced. Peter and he
accordingly were put down safely at an inn in the Strand, and Moseley
hastened to make his inquiries after the object of his pursuit. Such a
chaise had arrived an hour before, and the gentleman had ordered his trunk
to a neighboring hotel. After obtaining the address, and ordering a
hackney coach, he hastened to the house; but on inquiring for Mr.
Denbigh, to his great mortification was told they knew of no such
gentleman. John turned away from the person he was speaking to in visible
disappointment, when a servant respectfully inquired if the gentleman had
not come from L----, in Norfolk, that day. "He had," was the reply. "Then
follow me, sir, if you please." They knocked at a door of one of the
parlors, and the servant entered: he returned, and John was shown into a
room, where Denbigh was sitting with his head resting on his hand, and
apparently musing. On seeing who required admittance, he sprang from his
seat and exclaimed--

"Mr. Moseley! Do I see aright?"

"Denbigh," cried John, stretching out his hand to him, "was this kind--was
it like yourself--to leave us so unexpectedly, and for so long a time,
too, as your note mentioned?"

Denbigh waved his hand to the servant to retire, and handed a chair to his
friend.

"Mr. Moseley," said he, struggling with his feelings, "you appear ignorant
of my proposals to your sister."

"Perfectly," answered the amazed John.

"And her rejection of them."

"Is it possible!" cried the brother, pacing up and down the room. "I
acknowledge I did expect you to offer, but not to be refused."

Denbigh placed in the other hand the letter of Emily, which, having read,
John returned, with a sigh. "This, then, is the reason you left us," he
continued. "Emily is not capricious--it cannot be a sudden pique--she
means as she says."

"Yes, Mr. Moseley," said Denbigh, mournfully; "your sister is
faultless--but I am not worthy of her--my deception"--here the door again
opened to the admission of Peter Jo