own to see me. I hate conversations
on marriage more than a boy does flogging,--ods fish, I do. So you must
humour me on that point!

Aubrey has left me again, and I am quite alone,--not that I was much
better off when he was here, for he was wont, of late, to shun my poor
room like a "lazar house," and when I spoke to his mother about it, she
muttered something about "example" and "corrupting." 'Sdeath, Morton, is
your old uncle, who loves all living things, down to poor Ponto the dog,
the sort of man whose example corrupts youth? As for thy mother, she
grows more solitary every day; and I don't know how it is, but I am not
so fond of strange faces as I used to be. 'Tis a new thing for me to
be avoided and alone. Why, I remember even little Sid, who had as much
venom as most men, once said it was impossible to--Fie now--see if I was
not going to preach a sermon from a text in favour of myself! But come,
Morton, come, I long for your face again: it is not so soft as Aubrey's,
nor so regular as Gerald's; but it is twice as kind as either. Come,
before it is too late: I feel myself going; and, to tell thee a secret,
the doctors tell me I may not last many months longer. Come, and laugh
once more at the old knight's stories. Come, and show him that there is
still some one not too good to love him. Come, and I will tell thee a
famous thing of old Rowley, which I am too ill and too sad to tell thee
now.

WM. DEVEREUX.

Need I say that, upon receiving this letter, I resolved, without any
delay, to set out for Devereux Court? I summoned Desmarais to me; he
answered not my call: he was from home,--an unfrequent occurrence with
the necessitarian valet. I waited his return, which was not for
some hours, in order to give him sundry orders for my departure. The
exquisite Desmarais hemmed thrice,--"Will Monsieur be so very kind as
to excuse my accompanying him?" said he, with his usual air and tone of
obsequious respect.

"And why?" The valet explained. A relation of his was in England only
for a few days: the philosopher was most anxious to enjoy his society, a
pleasure which fate might not again allow him.

Though I had grown accustomed to the man's services, and did not like
to lose him even for a time, yet I could not refuse his request; and
I therefore ordered another of my servants to supply his place. This
change, however, determined me to adopt a plan which I had before
meditated; namely, the conveying of my own p