do not forget I come before these Jersey Blues, let
them be who, or what they may."

I assured my kinsman he _should_ come before them, and changed the
discourse; for, to own the truth, the manner in which he spoke began to
displease me. Making my apologies, I retired to my own room, while John
Wallingford went out, professedly with the intention of riding over the
place of his ancestors, with a view to give it a more critical exanimation
than it had hitherto been in his power to do.

It was quite dark, when I heard the arrival of the Hardinges, as the
carriage of Lucy drove up to the door. In a few minutes Mr. Hardinge
entered the study. He first inquired after my health, and manifested the
kind interest he had ever taken in my feelings; after which, he
proceeded:

"Rupert is here," he said, "and I have brought him over to see you. Both
he and Lucy appeared to think it might be well not to disturb you
to-night; but I knew you better. Who should be at your side at this bitter
moment, my dear Miles, if it be not Rupert, your old friend and play-mate;
your fellow truant, as one might say, and almost your brother?"

Almost my brother! Still I commanded myself. Grace had received my solemn
assurances, and so had Lucy, and Rupert had nothing to apprehend. I even
asked to see him, desiring, at the same time, that it might be alone. I
waited several minutes for Rupert's appearance, in vain. At length the
door of my room opened, and Chloe brought me a note. It was from Lucy, and
contained only these words--"Miles, for _her_ sake, for mine, command
yourself." Dear creature! She had no reason to be alarmed. The spirit of
my sister seemed to me to be present; and I could recall every expression
of her angel-countenance as it had passed before my eyes in the different
interviews that preceded her death.

At length Rupert appeared. He had been detained by Lucy until certain her
note was received, when she permitted him to quit her side. His manner was
full of the consciousness of undeserving, and its humility aided my good
resolutions. Had he advanced to take my hand; had he attempted
consolation; had he, in short, behaved differently in the main from what
he actually did, I cannot say what might have been the consequences. But
his deportment, at first, was quiet, respectful, distant rather than
familiar, and he had the tact, or grace, or caution, not to make the
smallest allusion to the sad occasion which had brought him to Cla