seemed likely to arise from her wilfulness.

Meanwhile the first letter from Reynard, announcing to Mrs. Dornell
and her husband jointly that he was coming in a few days, had sped
on its way to Falls-Park. It was directed under cover to Tupcombe,
the confidential servant, with instructions not to put it into his
master's hands till he had been refreshed by a good long sleep.
Tupcombe much regretted his commission, letters sent in this way
always disturbing the Squire; but guessing that it would be
infinitely worse in the end to withhold the news than to reveal it,
he chose his time, which was early the next morning, and delivered
the missive.

The utmost effect that Mrs. Dornell had anticipated from the message
was a peremptory order from her husband to Reynard to hold aloof a
few months longer. What the Squire really did was to declare that
he would go himself and confront Reynard at Bristol, and have it out
with him there by word of mouth.

'But, master,' said Tupcombe, 'you can't. You cannot get out of
bed.'

'You leave the room, Tupcombe, and don't say "can't" before me!
Have Jerry saddled in an hour.'

The long-tried Tupcombe thought his employer demented, so utterly
helpless was his appearance just then, and he went out reluctantly.
No sooner was he gone than the Squire, with great difficulty,
stretched himself over to a cabinet by the bedside, unlocked it, and
took out a small bottle. It contained a gout specific, against