n avowal of
the rencontre between the brothers, by an insidious observation of the
said Touchwood. He reported, therefore, to the Earl, after this
interview, that, on the whole, he thought he had no reason to fear much
on the subject of the traveller, who, though he had become acquainted,
by some means or other, with some leading facts of his remarkable
history; only possessed them in a broken, confused, and desultory
manner, insomuch that he seemed to doubt whether the parties in the
expected lawsuit were brothers or cousins, and appeared totally ignorant
of the facts on which it was to be founded.

It was the next day after this _eclaircissement_ on the subject of
Touchwood, that Lord Etherington dropped as usual into the bookseller's
shop, got his papers, and skimming his eye over the shelf on which lay,
till called for, the postponed letters destined for the Aultoun, saw
with a beating heart the smart post-mistress toss amongst them, with an
air of sovereign contempt, a pretty large packet, addressed to Francis
Tyrrel, Esq. &c. He withdrew his eyes, as if conscious that even to have
looked on this important parcel might engender some suspicion of his
purpose, or intimate the deep interest which he took in the contents of
the missive which was so slightly treated by his friend Mrs. Pott. At
this moment the door of the shop opened, and Lady Penelope Penfeather
entered, with her eternal _pendante_, the little Miss Digges.

"Have you seen Mr. Mowbray?--Has Mr. Mowbray of St. Ronan's been down
this morning?--Do you know any thing of Mr. Mowbray, Mrs. Pott?" were
questions which the lettered lady eagerly huddled on the back of each
other, scarcely giving time to the lady of letters to return a decided
negative to all and each of them.

"Mr. Mowbray was not about--was not coming there this morning--his
servant had just called for letters and papers, and announced as much."

"Good Heaven! how unfortunate!" said Lady Penelope, with a deep sigh,
and sinking down on one of the little sofas in an attitude of shocking
desolation, which called the instant attention of Mr. Pott and his good
woman, the first uncorking a small phial of salts, for he was a
pharmacopolist as well as vender of literature and transmitter of
letters, and the other hastening for a glass of water. A strong
temptation thrilled from Lord Etherington's eyes to his finger-ends. Two
steps might have brought him within arm's-length of the unwatched
packet, o