What trap have you fallen into, foolish boy? That you would get into
some silly scrape or another, was natural enough. But a scrape for life,
sir,--that is serious! But--God bless you for your candour, my Percival;
you have written to us in time--you are old-fashioned enough to think
that a mother's consent is necessary to a young man's union; and you have
left it in our power to save you yet. It is not every boyish fancy that
proves to be true love. But enough of this preaching; I shall do better
than write scolding letters,--I shall come and scold you in person. My
servant is at this very moment packing my portmanteau, the laquais-de-
place is gone to Naples for my passport. Almost as soon as you receive
this I shall be with you; and if I am a day or two later than the mail,
be patient: do not commit yourself further. Break your heart if you
please, but don't implicate your honour. I shall come at once to Curzon
Street. Adieu! H. GREVILLE.

Ardworth's letter was shorter than the others,--fortunately so, for
otherwise it had been unread:--

If I do not come to you myself the day after you receive this, dear
Percival,--which, indeed, is most probable,--I shall send you my proxy,
in one whom, for my sake, I know that you will kindly welcome. He will
undertake my task, and clear up all the mysteries with which, I trust, my
correspondence has thoroughly bewildered your lively imagination.
Yours ever, JOHN
ARDWORTH. GRAY'S INN.

Little indeed did Percival's imagination busy itself with the mysteries
of Ardworth's correspondence. His mind scarcely took in the sense of the
words over which his eye mechanically wandered.