private
entrance, met Master Clinton in the park, not very far from the spot
where I saw you, sir, just now. To my surprise there was no sign of
grief or agitation upon his countenance. I had never seen him look so
proud, or for years so happy."

"'Wardour,' said he, in a gay tone, when he saw me, 'I was going to your
house: my father has at last resolved that I should, like my brother,
commence my travels; and I wish to leave with you the address of the
place to which my clothes, etc., will be sent.'

"I could not contain any longer when I heard this, sir: I burst into
tears, confessed that I had accidentally heard his conversation with
my lord, and besought him not to depart so hastily, and with so small
a fortune; but he shook his head and would not hear me. 'Believe me, my
good Wardour,' said he, 'that since my unhappy mother's flight, I have
never felt so elated or so happy as I do now: one should go through what
I have done, to learn the rapture of independence.' He then told me to
have his luggage sent to him, under his initials of C. L., at the Golden
Fleece, the principal inn in the town of W----, which, you know, sir, is
at the other end of the county, on the road to London; and then, kindly
shaking me by the hand, he broke away from me: but he turned back before
he had got three paces, and said (and then, for the first time, the
pride of his countenance fell, and the tears stood in his eyes),
'Wardour, do not divulge what you have heard: put as good a face upon my
departure as you can, and let the blame, if any, fall upon me, not upon
your lord; after all he is to be pitied, not blamed, and I can never
forget that he once loved me.' He did not wait for my answer,--perhaps
he did not like to show me how much he was affected,--but hurried down
the park, and I soon lost sight of him. My lord that very morning sent
for me, demanded what address his son had left, and gave me a letter,
enclosing, I suppose, a bill for my poor young master's fortune,
ordering it to be sent with the clothes immediately."

"Sir, I have never seen or heard aught of the dear gentleman since; you
must forgive me, I cannot help tears, sir--(the wine is with you)."

"But the mother, the mother!" said Clarence, earnestly; "what became of
her? she died abroad, two years since, did she not?"

"She did, sir," answered the honest steward, refilling his glass. "They
say that she lived very unhappily with Sir Clinton, who did not marry
her;