had been an affectionate wife to him, had borne with his follies and
his neglect, had been an admirable mother to their only child. One child
alone had been theirs, and in her thirteenth year the countess had
died. If they had but been blessed with a son--the earl moaned over the
long-continued disappointment still--he might have seen a way out of his
difficulties. The boy, as soon as he was of age, would have joined with
him in cutting off the entail, and----

"My lord," said a servant entering the room and interrupting the earl's
castles in the air, "a gentleman is asking to see you."

"Who?" cried the earl, sharply, not perceiving the card the man was
bringing. No unknown person, although wearing the externals of a foreign
ambassador, was ever admitted unceremoniously to the presence of Lord
Mount Severn. Years of duns had taught the servants caution.

"His card is here, my lord. It is Mr. Carlyle, of West Lynne."

"Mr. Carlyle, of West Lynne," groaned the earl, whose foot just then had
an awful twinge, "what does he want? Show him up."

The servant did as he was bid, and introduced Mr. Carlyle. Look at the
visitor well, reader, for he will play his part in this history. He was
a very tall man of seven and twenty, of remarkably noble presence. He
was somewhat given to stooping his head when he spoke to any one shorter
than himself; it was a peculiar habit, almost to be called a bowing
habit, and his father had possessed it before him. When told of it he
would laugh, and say he was unconscious of doing it. His features were
good, his complexion was pale and clear, his hair dark, and his full
eyelids drooped over his deep gray eyes. Altogether it was a countenance