"Spare me on that subject, if you please--it has formed a strong reason why I did not mention my connexion with this unhappy man before; but it is no unusual thing for persons, whose imaginations are excited, to rush into causeless quarrels, and then to make discreditable retreats from them." "Or," said Mr.Mowbray, "he may have, after all, been prevented from reaching the place of rendezvous--it was that very day on which your lordship, I think, received your wound; and, if I mistake not, you hit the man from whom you got the hurt." "Mowbray," said Lord Etherington, lowering his voice, and taking him by the arm, "it is true that I did so--and truly glad I am to observe, that, whatever might have been the consequences of such an accident, they cannot have been serious .-- It struck me afterwards, that the man by whom I was so strangely assaulted, had some resemblance to the unfortunate Tyrrel--but I had not seen him for years .-- At any rate, he cannot have been much hurt, since he is now able to resume his intrigues to the prejudice of my character." "Your lordship views the thing with a firm eye," said Mowbray; "firmer than I think most people would be able to command, who had so narrow a chance of a scrape so uncomfortable." "Why, I am, in the first place, by no means sure that the risk existed," said the Earl of Etherington; "for, as I have often told you, I had but a very transient glimpse of the ruffian; and, in the second place, I _am_ sure that no permanent bad consequences have ensued.

I am too old a fox-hunter to be afraid of a leap after it is cleared, as they tell of the fellow who fainted in the morning at the sight of the precipice he had clambered over when he was drunk on the night before.

The man who wrote that letter," touching it with his finger, "is alive, and able to threaten me; and if he did come to any hurt from my hand, it was in the act of attempting my life, of which I shall carry the mark to my grave." "Nay, I am far from blaming your lordship," said Mowbray, "for what you did in self-defence, but the circumstance might have turned out very unpleasant .-- May I ask what you intend to do with this unfortunate gentleman, who is in all probability in the neighbourhood ?" "I must first discover the place of his retreat," said Lord Etherington, "and then consider what is to be done both for his safety, poor fellow, and my own.

It is probable, too, that he may find sharpers to prey upon what fortune he still possesses, which, I assure you, is sufficient to attract a set of folk, who may ruin while they humour him .-- May I beg that you, too, will be on the outlook, and let me know if you hear or see more of him ?" "I shall, most certainly, my lord," answered Mowbray; "but the only one of his haunts which I know, is the old Cleikum Inn, where he chose to take up his residence.

He has now left it, but perhaps the old crab-fish of a landlady may know something of him." "I will not fail to enquire," said Lord Etherington; and, with these words, he took a kind farewell of Mowbray, mounted his horse, and rode up the avenue.
"A cool fellow," said Mowbray, as he looked after him, "a d--d cool fellow, this brother-in-law of mine, that is to be--takes a shot at his father's son with as little remorse as at a blackcock--what would he do with me, were we to quarrel ?--Well, I can snuff a candle, and strike out the ace of hearts; and so, should things go wrong, he has no Jack Raw to deal with, but Jack Mowbray." Meanwhile the Earl of Etherington hastened home to his own apartments at the Hotel; and, not entirely pleased with the events of the day, commenced a letter to his correspondent, agent, and confidant, Captain Jekyl, which we have fortunately the means of presenting to our readers .-- "Friend Harry,--They say a falling house is best known by the rats leaving it--a falling state, by the desertion of confederates and allies--and a falling man, by the desertion of his friends.