near the table, and opened a book of prints
for the amusement of his daughter. While
they were thus engaged a side door noiselessly
opened, and Lord Warleigh stept in. He
stood still at the threshold, and looked at the
group before him. He seemed transfixed
with fear. He held out his hand and said,
"You —you there, so soon?— at this time of
the day ? And she !— who is she ? "

"My lord," said Benford, " I came at the
hour you fixed. This is my little daughter.
You asked me to bring her to see you. I
hope you are not offended."

"Ah, now, I remember," said his lordship,
and held out his hand. " I see visitors so
rarely, Mr. Benford—and ladies—" he added,
looking with a smile to the terrified little
girl,who stood between her father's knees and
gazed with mute wonder on the old man's
face—" ladies so seldom present themselves
here, that I was surprised—but now most
happy—"

He sat down and talked with the greatest
kindness. He drew the little girl nearer
and nearer to himself; at last he got a
volume from the shelf, of the most
gorgeously coloured engravings, and took her
on his knee. He showed her the
beautiful birds represented in the book; told
her where they lived, and some of their
habits; and pleased with the child's intelligence,
and more, with the confidence she felt
in his good-nature—he said, " And now, little
lady, you shall give me a kiss, and tell me
your pretty little name."

The child said, " My name is Dulcibel
Benford," and held up her little mouth to give the
kiss.

But Lord Warleigh grew suddenly cold and
harsh. He put her from his knee in silence;
and the child perceiving the change, went
tremblingly to her father.

"A strange name to give your child, Mr.
Benford," said his lordship.

"I'm very sorry, indeed, my lord," began
Mr. Benford, but perceived in the midst of
the profoundest respect for the peerage,
how absurd it would be to apologise for a
Christian name.

"You have a son, I think; what name
have you given him?"

"His name is Winnington, my lord—an
uncom—"

"What?" cried Lord Warleigh, starting
up. You come hither to insult me in my own
room. You creep into my house, and worm
yourself into my confidence, and then, when
you think I am unprepared —for you—"

"As I hope to be saved, my lord—I give
you my word, my lord—I never meant to
insult you, my lord," said Benford; " but
since I have had the misfortune to offend your
lordship I will withdraw. Come Lucy
Mainfield. She has three names, my lord, Dulcibel
Lucy Mainfield. I'm sorry she didn't tell
you so before."

"No—don't go," said Lord Warleigh,
sinking into his chair ; " it was nothing ; it was
a sudden pain, which, often puts me out of
temper. Is the little girl's name Lucy
Mainfield ? You won't come back to me again,
will you, Lucy ? "

'' O! yes, my lord—Lucy, go to his lordship
—he will show you the pictures again."
Benford pushed her towards Lord
Warleigh. But the girl blushed and trembled,
and wouldn't go. She clung to her father's
hand.

"Don't force her," said the old man in a
mournful tone. " I knew she wouldn't. But
you won't go in anger, Lucy? Benford,
you'll forgive me?"

"O, my lord," said the curate, immensely
gratified, and sat down again.

"Are these family names, Benford?"
inquired his lordship carelessly; but still looking
sadly in Dulcibel's glowing face.

"Yes, my lord. Dulcibel was my mother's
name, and her brother's name Winnington
Harvey. You have heard, perhaps, of his
melancholy fate? He was murdered."

"You are Winnington Harvey's nephew?"
said Lord Warleigh.

"Yes, my lord, and they used to say I was
very like him."

"Who ?—who used to say so? your mother,
perhaps. Is she alive?"

"Both father and mother died when I was
three years old. My grandfather in
Yorkshire brought me up. It was dear old cousin
Lucy, who died when I was twelve—Lucy
Mainfield."

"She dead—is she?"

"0, yes, my lord, and left me all the little
money she had. She used to say I was very
like my uncle."

"And did she tell you any particulars of
his end?"

"No, my lord. She spoke very little of the
past. She had been very unhappy in her
youth—a disappointment in love, we thought;
and some people said she had been fond of
Uncle Winnington; but I don't know,—his
fate was very horrible. He had been down in
Devonshire, reading with a friend, and was
killed on his way home."

"And you never heard the friend's
name ? "

"No. Cousin Lucy never mentioned it;
and there was no one else who knew."

"And how do you know his fate?"

"It was in the coroner's verdict. And do
you know, my lord, he is buried not far from
this."

"Who told you that?" said Warleigh,
starting up, as if about to break forth in
another paroxysm of rage. " Who knows
anything about that?"

"Cousin Lucy told me, when I was very
young, that if ever I went into the West I
should try to find out his grave."

"And for that purpose you are here;—it
was to discover this you came to Warleigh?"
His lordship's eyes flashed with anger.