ots with which
Montreuil is connected; I believe he will be apprehended in a few days."

"And where lurks he?"

"He was, I heard, last seen in the neighbourhood of your brother's
property at Devereux Court, and I imagine it probable that he is still
in that neighbourhood."

This intelligence made me resolve to leave Dawley even earlier than
I had intended, and I signified to Lord Bolingbroke my intention of
quitting him by sunrise the next morning. He endeavoured in vain to
combat my resolution. I was too fearful lest Montreuil, hearing of
his danger from the state, might baffle my vengeance by seeking some
impenetrable asylum, to wish to subject my meeting with him and with
Gerald, whose co-operation I desired, to any unnecessary delay. I took
leave of my host therefore that night, and ordered my carriage to be in
readiness by the first dawn of morning.

CHAPTER VII.

THE PLOT APPROACHES ITS DENOUEMENT.

ALTHOUGH the details of my last chapter have somewhat retarded the
progress of that _denouement_ with which this volume is destined to
close, yet I do not think the destined reader will regret lingering
over a scene in which, after years of restless enterprise and exile, he
beholds the asylum which fortune had prepared for the most extraordinary
character with which I have adorned these pages.

It was before daybreak that I commenced my journey. The shutters of the
house were as yet closed; the gray mists rising slowly from the earth,
and the cattle couched beneath the trees, the cold but breezeless
freshness of the morning, the silence of the unawakened birds, all gave
an inexpressible stillness and quiet to the scene. The horses slowly
ascended a little eminence, and I looked from the window of the carriage
on the peaceful retreat I had left. I sighed as I did so, and a sick
sensation, coupled with the thought of Isora, came chill upon my heart.
No man happily placed in this social world can guess the feelings of
envy with which a wanderer like me, without tie or home, and for whom
the roving eagerness of youth is over, surveys those sheltered spots
in which the breast garners up all domestic bonds, its household and
holiest delights; the companioned hearth, the smile of infancy, and,
dearer than all, the eye that glasses our purest, our tenderest, our
most secret thoughts; these--oh, none who enjoy them know how they for
whom they are not have pined and mourned for them!

I had not travelled many hours