y on his creaking
shoes. He had no heart to sit alone drinking wine, and so close to the
terrible old gentleman in the study hard at hand.

An hour at least after dark, the butler, not having received any
summons, ventured to tap at his door and take him in wax candles and
tea. The master of the house sate in his chair, pretending to read the
paper, and when the servant, placing the lights and refreshment on the
table by him, retired, Mr. Osborne got up and locked the door after
him. This time there was no mistaking the matter; all the household
knew that some great catastrophe was going to happen which was likely
direly to affect Master George.

In the large shining mahogany escritoire Mr. Osborne had a drawer
especially devoted to his son's affairs and papers. Here he kept all
the documents relating to him ever since he had been a boy: here were
his prize copy-books and drawing-books, all bearing George's hand, and
that of the master: here were his first letters in large round-hand
sending his love to papa and mamma, and conveying his petitions for a
cake. His dear godpapa Sedley was more than once mentioned in them.
Curses quivered on old Osborne's livid lips, and horrid hatred and
disappointment writhed in his heart, as looking through some of these
papers he came on that name. They were all marked and docketed, and
tied with red tape. It was--"From Georgy, requesting 5s., April 23,
18--; answered, April 25"--or "Georgy about a pony, October 13"--and so
forth. In another packet were "Dr. S.'s accounts"--"G.'s tailor's bills
and outfits, drafts on me by G. Osborne, jun.," &c.--his letters from
the West Indies--his agent's letters, and the newspapers containing his
commissions: here was a whip he had when a boy, and in a paper a locket
containing his hair, which his mother used to wear.

Turning one over after another, and musing over these memorials, the
unhappy man passed many hours. His dearest vanities, ambitious hopes,
had all been here. What pride he had in his boy! He was the
handsomest child ever seen. Everybody said he was like a nobleman's
son. A royal princess had remarked him, and kissed him, and asked his
name in Kew Gardens. What City man could show such another? Could a
prince have been better cared for? Anything that money could buy had
been his son's. He used to go down on speech-days with four horses and
new liveries, and scatter new shillings among the boys at the school
where Georg