ect he was waiting
just outside.

The moment Mrs. Tracy saw the gray-headed butler, anticipating all that
he might say, she brushed past him, and hurriedly ran up-stairs.

"What's all this, Mr. Saunders? where's Miss Warren?" And the poor old
guardian seemed ready to faint at his reply: but he heard it out
patiently.

"I am very sorry to say, general, that Miss Emily has been forced to
take refuge at Sir Abraham Tamworth's: but she's well, sir, and safe,
sir; quite well and safe," the good man hastened to say, "only I'm
afraid that Mr. Julian had been taking liberties with--"

I dare not write the general's imprecation: then, as he clenched the
arms of his easy-chair, as with the grasp of the dying, he asked, in a
quick wild way--

"But what was it?--what happened?"

"Nothing to fear, sir--nothing at all, general;--I am thankful to say,
that all I saw, and all we all saw, was Miss Emily pulling at the
bell-rope with blood upon her face, and Mr. Julian on the floor: but I
took the young lady to Sir Abraham's immediately, general, at her own
desire."

The father arose sternly; his first feeling was to kill Julian; but the
second, a far better one, predominated--he must go and see Emily at
once.

So, faintly leaning on the butler's arm, the poor old man (whom a moiety
of ten minutes, with its crowding fears, had made to look some ten years
older,) proceeded to the square, and knocked up Sir Abraham at midnight,
and the admiral came down, half asleep, in dressing-gown and slippers,
vexed at having been knocked up from his warm berth so uncomfortably: it
put him sorely in remembrance of his hardships as a middy.

"Kind neighbour, thank you, thank you; where's Emmy? take me to my
Emmy;" and the iron-hearted veteran wept like a driveller.

Sir Abraham looked at him queerly: and then, in a cheerful, friendly
way, replied--

"Dear general, do not be so moved: the girl's quite safe with us; you'll
see her to-morrow morning. All's right; she was only frightened, and
George has given the fellow a proper good licking: and the girl's a-bed,
you know; and, eh? what?"--

For the poor old man, like one bereaved, said, supplicatingly--

"In mercy take me to her--precious child!"

"My dear sir--pray consider--it's impossible; fine girl, you know;--Lady
Tamworth, too--can't be, can't be, you know, general."

And the mystified Sir Abraham looked to Saunders for an explanation--

"Was his master drunk?"

"I must speak