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Page went his way without further word, and I betook myself to a tavern to take a cool view of the evening's proceedings over a bottle of wine. I returned late, and hearing that Lord Tyrconnel had not retired to bed, but was in his library, I walked up thither-knocked, and was admitted.

Oh, Mr. Savage, it is you?' said his lordship. I am, as you see, very busy,' he was writing, and must not be interrupted.'

It is but seldom 1 disturb you, my lord; to-night you will excuse me.'

I drew a chair, and seating myself directly opposite to him, fixed my eyes steadfastly upon his face, and said,

'I want to know, my Lord Tyrconnel, why it is you treat me thus?'

He was probably prepared for remonstrance, but the peremptoriness of my tone was something he did not expect. He laid down his

pen.

• What on earth, Savage, do you mean?' he inquired, affecting an ignorance which he could not make his face assume.

'I will tell you,' I replied. 'It was at your urgent persuasion that I dined with you to-day. You know I had previously engaged myself to my oldest and my best friend, Mr. Gregory. You are aware that he leaves England the day after to-morrow for Antigua, and that I shall have no other opportunity of spending a few hours with him. You told me you could not dispense with my company-that you expected Sir Robert Walpole. Well, my lord, instead of Walpole I find Page

Well,' cried he, interrupting me, and what if you do? I hope I am to be permitted the privilege of inviting to my own house and to my own table whomsoever I please! Mr. Savage-Mr. Savage-thisThis what?' I returned sharply. Mr. Savage wants to know why he was introduced by you to Sir Arthur Page? Whether by so doing you intended to affront him, and if you did, wherefore he should not resent a freedom you presume to take with him, which does not come within the scope of your privileges, and which he intends shall never so come.'

This speech roused him, but it was only for a moment. He returned himself to his former position. He spoke at last.

I am surprised, sir, greatly surprised to hear you-you address me in this strain I'

Probably you are,' I replied. Perhaps you will be more so when I tell you that it is a strain your own conduct has forced upon

me.'

How! I do not understand!-But-come, come, Savage,' assuming a familiar tone and air, 'we won't fight till we know the cause of quarrel. There is some mistake here. Did I not tell you before

dinner Walpole couldn't come?'

'You did not; nor that Page could, and would.'

'Pr'ythee lay aside that sad brow, and voice like the click of a trigger,' said he. What would you have me say? I am sorry we had not Sir Robert; and as to Page-I protest I hadn't the least notion in life that you didn't care to see that old Rhadamanthus. Why, now, were not the man as blind as the justice he misrepresents, he would have seen that my introduction of you to him was a cutting reproof.'

After all, then, did he not design to insult me? Bland as he looked-affable and smiling-for he had now perfectly recovered his selfpossession I was assured he did. But he had so happily secured himself that I could say nothing at that time. His object was to wear out my patience by the friction of petty vexations, incessantly repeated, that when the rupture took place-which he had decreed, and I foresaw-I should have no one grave charge to bring against him.

I accepted his apologies, of which he was profuse, with the best grace I could muster; which, to say the truth, was not a little the worse for wear. I had heard something after I left his hospitable board that made it difficult to me to speak with common civility to him.

At the tavern to which I had gone I met Colonel Cleland, the Will Honeycomb of the Spectator, need I add, a former friend of Addison, of Steele, and of Brett? The warm-hearted old gentleman had many times thrown out significant hints that little dependence was to be placed in the professions of Lord Tyrconnel. On this, the last occasion of my seeing him, however, he was pleased to be more explicit. He assured me he had it from good authority that the proposition his lordship made me was the result of an understanding between my mother and him; that, terrified by my threats, she felt herself compelled to purchase my silence.

The knowledge of this fact had no influence whatever upon my deportment towards Lord Tyrconnel, who, on his part, began to be more circumspect in his dealings with me. But the rift had been made, and every effort to close it gave either side a rocking motion, an impetus the wrong way, leaving it wider than before.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

Wherein Richard Savage acts a most unworthy part; and, quarrelling with his patron, leaves the reader to decide which is the less estimable person of the two. HOWEVER fortune may have treated me in the main, it must be admitted that in one particular instance she was in the truest sense favourable to me, since to fortune, not to any merit of mine, am I to ascribe the preference with which Elizabeth Wilfred regarded me. This woman, beautiful, virtuous, noble-minded, the very soul of sweetness, of sincerity, and of honour, who for my sake had resisted the importunities of Mrs. Brett, (whom she loved), in favour of Sinclair, a man of figure and fortune, whose addresses were believed to be honourable: who had stood firm against the solicitations of Lady Hertford (to whom she was bound by ties of the strongest gratitude) in behalf of Mr. Grantly, a gentleman, let me say so, of unquestionable pretensions to the hand of any lady in England--this woman had placed herself under my protection, had committed her present and future happiness to my care-trustingly-confidingly-absolutely; as assured of my love and of my honour, as though both had been attested by an angel on the book of life.

For three days last past have I hovered over this sheet of paper, my pen between my fingers, unable to proceed, because unwilling to go on. And yet this unwillingness is no offspring of shame, (although I am ashamed), or of fear (which I do not feel.) lest my reader, more vir tuous than myself, should condemn me for my want of virtue. It arises from an utter inability to reconcile the attempt of which I was guilty,

and which-I must confess the truth-I had long meditated-with that opinion of Elizabeth, which I declare to heaven, was never impaired. Blind passion-a headstrong will-a heart not grown callous, but rendered heedless by paltry wrongs, just at the time that it should have taken most heed-the weakness or the fate of violent natures these it was that impelled me; these, that have ever prompted me, urged me, goaded me, and ever to my own ruin.

Although I cannot so distinctly recall it to memory as to describe it, a change in my deportment towards Elizabeth must have attended the alteration of my views respecting her. My visits were as frequent as heretofore, but not so prolonged.

One evening, my heart fortified and my spirits afloat with wine, I called upon Elizabeth Wilfred. She was not unaccustomed to see me in this state. I had this day put up with one more of my Lord Tyrconnel's safe insults, which had set my blood somewhat in motion; but it was not this that had led or driven me to the bottle. I wanted a face that would not blush, or a face upon which, being flustered, no blush could be seen; and such a face I carried to the presence of Elizabeth.

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My dearest life,' said I, of what this world is composed, or rather, of what material the men and women are made who walk up and down in it, let those determine who have more experience or a nicer sagacity than your Richard Savage. Lord Tyrconnel is no better than the vulgar herd. I have nothing further to expect from him but insult, unless I consent to do that which would make me worthy of submitting to it-unless I choose to become his creature.'

This brought her to my side. She took my hand.

'How surprised-how shocked I am to hear this?' she said, her eyes filling with tears; now I know what it is that has been preying upon your mind for some time past-what it is that has occasioned the change in your manner I could not account for. Indeed, Richard, you must forgive me; but I have often thought you are too hasty. Oh, Richard! how I wish- She paused-a transient blush passed over her face, and was gone. Her eyes were full of tenderness.

'What does my love wish that, being in my power to grant or to obtain, she need an hour longer wish for?'

That we were married, Richard-'

An ill-timed wish. I started; but she continued hurriedly: 'Because then you would give me more of your confidence. perhaps, now you will do so.'

But,

My sweetest creature!' I exclaimed in a momentary transport, folding her in my arms. I was moved by her manner of saying this. In her tone was mingled the frankness of the friend with the tenderness of the wife.

'But,' I resumed after a pause, 'do you know that my mother-so I am informed by Lord Tyrconnel-has sworn that should I marry you I am never to expect anything from her; but that if I relinquish allhope-all,' I stammered, all intention of making you my wife,' laying a stress upon the words, she will consent to acknowledge me, and provide for me as her son.' (This was a suddenly begotten lie.) 'Poor lady!' returned Elizabeth, sighing, I always loved her, and never in my life, to my knowledge, injured her.'

Nor I; but you see how she pursues me. Is it worth reflection?'
What?' she inquired.

'What my mother has conveyed to me through Lord Tyrconnel. 'Oh! I had ceased to think of it. No. Her threats, if they are threats, are idle and mean nothing.'

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And yet,' I returned and yet! I cannot live over again this portion of the shameful scene. The lie was pursued. The die is cast,' as there is some fellow to say in every tragedy I ever read. I must on. During this talk, I launched out against the institution of marriage, denouncing it as a springe to catch fools-as a device to fetter the free -as an obstruction to congenial souls. I summoned Nature by name -dear outraged mother, who is ever expected to conceal the wickedness of her children.

During my rambling and incoherent discourse, Elizabeth disengaged herself from my embrace, and at its conclusion gazed at me awhile with a look of blank surprise.

I smiled approval of my own doctrine. Hers was a sort of giddy laugh, shocking to remember, although at the time it seemed not so. She passed her hand across her brow two or three times, as though endeavouring to recall something to memory.

Is my Richard conscious of what he has been saying?' she uttered, at length, he cannot be aware that he has made proposals to me -good God! you cannot-must not intend-you do not know

I only know that you are the most charming woman in the world,' I exclaimed, clasping her rudely in my arms; what I have said is spoken, Elizabeth. It must be so.'

She burst from me, and bounded backward, not so much with a cry of fear as of horror. Her presence was full of grandeur, was glorious. Resentment, which I had never seen before on her raised brow, in her flaming eyes, in her face, and heaving bosom, which, with her arms, were deepest crimson. She stood, the daughter of Sir Richard Steele, whose memory rushed at that moment to my heart, stabbing it through and through. A moment more, and all traces of anger were gone from her. Her eyes were bent upon me with a look of the most profound concern. No words could have conveyed the reproach of the look, which was not meant for reproach; nor did she utter a word, but hurried to the door.

I had been transfixed-spell-bound-a sad and sober villain, looking, however, simply a fool; but now I sprang forward, and made an effort to detain her; but she passed from the room ere I could snatch her hand, and hastened up-stairs.

I dared not follow her I dared not even call to her and implore her forgiveness. Oh! that I had done so! Her heart was ever the seat of mercy, that scarce required prompting to forgive. Yet what avails? I had lost her respect for ever. Wantonly, and yet deliberately, I had dashed to pieces the image she had raised to my honour in the hallowed temple of her own pure and lovely mind.

I felt all this as I retreated-slunk to my chair. Good heavens! what fools are villains!

I was roused out of my half-contrite, half-sullen meditations by the entrance of a person into the room. It was a lady. I started to my feet. Yes, my Elizabeth, generous and noble girl! I advanced with open hands to meet her. I was mistaken. The film before my eyes had prevented me from recognizing Mrs. Phillips.

I recoiled in extreme disappointment, which must have taken the form of disgust. This lady was a most impassive person-a most im