me Bernstein. "Do you think your cousin has any
partiality for any--any member of Mr. Lambert's family? for example,
Miss Lambert?"

"There is nothing between him and Miss Lambert," says Lady Maria.

"Your ladyship is certain?"

"Women are said to have good eyes in such matters, my good Sampson,"
says my lady, with an easy air. "I thought the little girl seemed to be
following him."

"Then I am at fault once more," the frank chaplain said. "Mr. Warrington
said of the young lady, that she ought to go back to her doll, and
called her a pert, stuck-up little hussy."

"Ah!" sighed Lady Maria, as if relieved by the news.

"Then, madam, there must be somebody else," said the chaplain. Has he
confided nothing to your ladyship?"

"To me, Mr. Sampson? What? Where? How?" exclaims Maria.

"Some six days ago, after we had been dining at the White Horse, and
drinking too freely, Mr. Warrington lost a pocket-book containing
letters."

"Letters?" gasps Lady Maria.

"And probably more money than he likes to own," continues Mr. Sampson,
with a grave nod of the head. "He is very much disturbed about the
book. We have both made cautious inquiries about it. We have----Gracious
powers, is your ladyship ill?"

Here my Lady Maria gave three remarkably shrill screams, and tumbled off
her chair.

"I will see the Prince. I have a right to see him. What's this?--Where
am I?--What's the matter?" cries Madame Bernstein, waking up from her
sleep. She had been dreaming of old days, no doubt. The old lady shook
in all her limbs--her face was very much flushed. She stared about
wildly a moment, and then tottered forward on her tortoiseshell cane.
"What--what's the matter?" she asked again. "Have you killed her, sir?"

"Some sudden qualm must have come over her ladyship. Shall I cut her
laces, madam? or send for a doctor?" cries the chaplain, with every look
of innocence and alarm.

"What has passed between you, sir?" asked the old lady, fiercely.

"I give you my honour, madam, I have done I don't know what. I but
mentioned that Mr. Warrington had lost a pocket-book containing letters,
and my lady swooned, as you see."

Madame Bernstein dashed water on her niece's face. A feeble moan told
presently that the lady was coming to herself.

The Baroness looked sternly after Mr. Sampson, as she sent him away on
his errand for the doctor. Her aunt's grim countenance was of little
comfort to poor Maria when she saw it on waking up from her