ce denoted his improved circumstances.
The alteration did not escape the notice of the stranger, who regarded
him with much curiosity, and closed the door behind him as he entered
the room.

"You are looking much better than when we last met, Leonard Holt," he
said, in tones that made his hearer start, "and I am glad to perceive
it. Prosperity seems to attend your path, and you deserve it; whereas
misery and every other ill--and I deserve them--dog mine."

"I did not recognise you at first, Mr. Thirlby," replied Leonard; "for,
in truth, you are much changed. But you desire to speak with me on a
matter of importance. Can I aid you? You may need money. Here is my
purse."

"I do not want it," replied the other, scornfully rejecting the offer.
"I have a proposal to make to you."

"I shall be glad to hear it," replied Leonard. "But first tell me how
you effected your escape after your arrest on that disastrous night
when, in self-defence, and unintentionally, I wounded your son, Lord
Argentine?"

"Would you had killed him!" cried the other, fiercely. "I have lost all
feelings of a father for him. He it was who contrived my arrest, and he
would have gladly seen me borne to the scaffold, certain it would have
freed him from me for ever. I was hurried away by the officers from the
scene of strife, and conveyed to the Tun at Cornhill, which you know has
been converted into a round-house, and where I was locked up for the
night. But while I was lying on the floor of my prison, driven well-nigh
frantic by what had occurred, there were two persons without labouring
to effect my deliverance--nor did they labour in vain. These were
Chowles and Judith, my foster-sister, and whom, you may remember, I
suspected--and most unfairly--of intending my betrayal. By means of a
heavy bribe, they prevailed on one of the officers to connive at my
escape. An iron bar was removed from the window of my prison, and I got
through the aperture. Judith concealed me for some days in the vaults of
Saint Faith's, after which I fled into the country, where I wandered
about for several months, under the name of Philip Grant. Having learnt
that my son though severely hurt by you, had recovered from his wound,
and that his sister, the Lady Isabella, had accompanied him to his seat
in Staffordshire, I proceeded thither, and saw her, unknown to him. I
found her heart still true to you. She told me you had disappeared
immediately after the termination of th