evading the question. "His character is not affected by
a propensity so common, unless, indeed, you suppose him to be more a
gambler than a gamester, viz. more acute than unlucky."

"God forbid that I should say any such thing," replied Thornton; "you
won't catch an old lawyer in such imprudence."

"The greater the truth, the greater the libel," said Warburton, with a
sneer.

"No," resumed Thornton, "I know nothing against Mr. Tyrrell--nothing!
He may be a very good man, and I believe he is; but as a friend, Mr.
Pelham, (and Mr. Thornton grew quite affectionate), I advise you to have
as little as possible to do with that sort of people."

"Truly," said I, "you have now excited my curiosity. Nothing, you know,
is half so inviting as mystery."

Thornton looked as if he had expected a very different reply; and
Warburton said, in an abrupt tone--"Whoever enters an unknown road in a
fog may easily lose himself."

"True," said I; "but that very chance is more agreeable than a road
where one knows every tree! Danger and novelty are more to my taste
than safety and sameness. Besides, as I never gamble myself, I can lose
nothing by an acquaintance with those who do."

Another pause ensued--and, finding I had got all from Mr. Thornton and
his uncourteous guest that I was likely to do, I took my hat and my
departure.

"I do not know," thought I, "whether I have profited much by this visit.
Let me consider. In the first place, I have not ascertained why I
was put off by Mr. Thornton--for as to his excuse, it could only have
availed one day, and had he been anxious for my acquaintance, he would
have named another. I have, however, discovered, first, that he does not
wish me to form any connection with Tyrrell; secondly, from Warburton's
sarcasm, and his glance of reply, that there is but little friendship
between those two, whatever be the intimacy; and, thirdly, that
Warburton, from his dorsal positions, so studiously preserved, either
wished to be uncivil or unnoticed." The latter, after all, was the most
probable; and, upon the whole, I felt more than ever convinced that he
was the person I suspected him to be.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Tell how the fates my giddy course did guide, The inconstant turns of
every changing hour.--Pierce Gaveston, by M. Drayton.

Je me retire donc.--Adieu, Paris, adieu!--Boileau.

When I returned home, I found on my table the following letter from my
mother:

"My dear Henry,

"I am rej