esome
fellow, as well as any other man. Don't pretend to deny that."

"I would as lief not hear them called so--but this was not Mr. Hughes."

"Oh, no! I remember now you were not in his parish. If you went down
Briarwood-lane far enough you would be in Briarwood parish. Mr. Thomas,
perhaps."

"No."

"Mr. Thomas's curate. Oh! of course the curate. Only I don't think Mr.
Thomas keeps one."

"No; I believe not Mr. Thomas's, or any one else's curate; but a
gentleman who says he knew Captain D'Arcy at school."

"Nay, that is too charming. That really is like an adventure."

"Here, Edgar!"

He was crossing the paddock at some little distance.

"Come here for one instant. Do you recollect what I was talking to you
about this very morning? Well, Lettice has met with an adventure, and
has stumbled upon an old acquaintance of yours--reading the Bible to an
old woman--he was at school with you.

"Well, as there were about five hundred people, more or less, who had
that honor--if you mean to know any thing about him, Miss Arnold, you
must go a little more into detail; and, first and foremost, what is the
young gentleman's name?"

"James St. Leger," said Lettice.

A start for answer, and,

"Ha! Indeed! Poor fellow! _he_ turned up again. I little thought our
paths in life would ever cross more. How strange to unearth him in such
a remote corner of the world as Briarwood. Poor fellow! Well, what is he
like? and how does he look?"

"Ill and melancholy," said Lettice. "I should say very ill and very
melancholy--and with reason I believe; for though he is in holy orders,
something is the matter with his throat or his chest; which renders him
useless in the pulpit."

"You don't say so. His chest! I hope not. And yet," continued Edgar, as
if musing aloud, "I know not. He was one when I knew him, Miss Arnold,
so marked out through the vices of others for misery in this world, that
I used to think the sooner he went out of it the better for him."

"Ah!" cried Catherine, "there is an interesting history here. Do tell it
us, Edgar. Of all your charming talks, what I like almost the best are
your reminiscences. He has such a memory, Lettice; and so much
penetration into the characters of persons: and the connection of
things; that nothing is so delightful as when he _will_ tell some old
history of his earlier years. Do, dear Edgar, tell us all about this
charming young curate of Briarwood."

"Flatterer! Coaxing flatterer