too far, and who thought, despite of his jesting, that it was possible to
strike out a more agreeable vein of conversation--"but, sir, if you
remember, you have not yet finished that youthful hunting adventure of
yours, when the hounds were lost at Burnham Copse."

"Oh, very true," cried the squire, quite forgetting his late suspicions;
and forthwith he began a story that promised to be as long as the chase
it recorded. So charmed was he, when he had finished it, with the
character of the gentleman who had listened to it so delightedly, that on
rejoining Mauleverer, he told the earl, with an important air, that he
had strictly examined the young captain, and that he had fully convinced
himself of the excellence of his family, as well as the rectitude of his
morals. Mauleverer listened with a countenance of polite incredulity; he
had heard but little of the conversation that had taken place between the
pair; but on questioning the squire upon sundry particulars of Clifford's
birth, parentage, and property, he found him exactly as ignorant as
before. The courtier, however, seeing further expostulation was in vain,
contented himself with patting the squire's shoulder, and saying, with a
mysterious urbanity, "Ah, sir, you are too good!"

With these words he turned on his heel, and, not yet despairing, sought
the daughter. He found Miss Brandon just released from dancing, and with
a kind of paternal gallantry, he offered his arm to parade the
apartments. After some preliminary flourish, and reference for the
thousandth time to his friendship for William Brandon, the earl spoke
to her about that "fine-looking young man who called himself Captain
Clifford."

Unfortunately for Mauleverer, he grew a little too unguarded, as his
resentment against the interference of Clifford warmed with his language,