that he did not sleep much that night. Early the next
morning he sought Saville, and imparted to him the intelligence he had
received.

"Droll enough!" said Saville, languidly, and more than a little
displeased at this generosity to Godolphin from another; for, like all
small-hearted persons, he was jealous; "droll enough! Hem! and you never
knew him but once, and then he abused me! I wonder at that; I was very
obliging to his vulgar son."

"What! he had a son, then?"

"Some two-legged creature of that sort, raw and bony, dropped into
London, like a ptarmigan, wild, and scared out of his wits. Old
Johnstone was in the country, taking care of his wife, who had lost
the use of her limbs ever since she had been married;--caught a
violent--husband--the first day of wedlock! The boy, sole son and
heir, came up to town at the age of discretion; got introduced to me;
I patronised him; brought him into a decent degree of fashion; played
a few games at cards with him; won some money; would not win any more;
advised him to leave off; too young to play; neglected my advice; went
on, and, d--n the fellow! if he did not cut his throat one morning; and
the father, to my astonishment, laid the blame upon me!"

Godolphin stood appalled in speechless disgust. He never loved Saville
from that hour.

"In fact," resumed Saville, carelessly, "he had lost very considerably.
His father was a stern, hard man, and the poor boy was frightened at the
thought of his displeasure. I suppose Monsieur Papa imagined me a sort
of moral ogre, eating up all the little youths that fall in my way!
since he leaves you twenty thousand pounds on condition that you take
care of yourself and shun the castle I live in. Well, well! 'tis all
very flattering! And where will you go? To Spain?"

This story affected Percy sensibly. He regretted deeply that he had not
sought out the bereaved father, and been of some comfort to his later
hours. He appreciated all that warmth of sympathy, that delicacy of
heart, which had made the old man compassionate his young relation's
unfriended lot, and couple his gift with a condition, likely perhaps, to
limit Percy's desires to the independence thus bestowed, and certain to
remove his more tender years from a scene of constant contagion. Thus
melancholy and thoughtful, Godolphin repaired to the house of the now
famous, the now admired Miss Millinger.

Fanny received the good news of his fortune with a smile, and the
bad