ed by the Aunt
Bernstein with excellent skill. The old woman is the best man of our
family. While you were arrested, your boxes were searched for the
Mohock's letters to you. When you were let loose, the letters had
disappeared, and you said nothing, like a wise woman, as you are
sometimes. You still hanker after your Cherokee. Soit. A woman of your
mature experience knows the value of a husband. What is this little loss
of two or three hundred pounds?"

"Not more than three hundred, my lord?" interposes Maria.

"Eh! never mind a hundred or two, more or less. What is this loss at
cards? A mere bagatelle! You are playing for a principality. You want
your kingdom in Virginia; and if you listen to my opinion, the little
misfortune which has happened to your swain is a piece of great
good-fortune to you."

"I don't understand you, my lord."

"C'est possible; but sit down, and I will explain what I mean in a
manner suited to your capacity." And so Maria Esmond, who had advanced
to her brother like a raging lion, now sate down at his feet like a
gentle lamb.

Madame de Bernstein was not a little moved at the news of her nephew's
arrest, which Mr. Gumbo brought to Clarges Street on the night of the
calamity. She would have cross-examined the black, and had further
particulars respecting Harry's mishap; but Mr. Gumbo, anxious to carry
his intelligence to other quarters, had vanished when her ladyship sent
for him. Her temper was not improved by the news, or by the sleepless
night which she spent. I do not envy the dame de compagnie who played
cards with her, or the servant who had to lie in her chamber. An arrest
was an everyday occurrence, as she knew very well as a woman of the
world. Into what difficulties had her scapegrace of a nephew fallen? How
much money should she be called upon to pay to release him? And had
he run through all his own? Provided he had not committed himself
very deeply, she was quite disposed to aid him. She liked even his
extravagances and follies. He was the only being in the world on whom,
for long, long years, that weary woman had been able to bestow a little
natural affection. So, on their different beds, she and Harry were lying
wakeful together; and quite early in the morning the messengers which
each sent forth on the same business may have crossed each other.

Madame Bernstein's messenger was despatched to the chambers of her man
of business, Mr. Draper, with an order that Mr. D. shou