e is no fear of his being gone before I can come in to-morrow.'

'I should think not. Those musical people keep late hours.'

'I would go before breakfast. Perhaps it would be best to go to old
Redford, he will know all about him; or to the music-shop. I am so glad!
It is the very thing I always wished.'

'Did you?' said Mrs. Edmonstone to herself. 'I can't say every one would
be of your mind; but I can't help liking you the better for it. I wish
the man had kept further off. I wish Mr. Edmonstone was at home. I hope
no harm will come of it. I wonder what I ought to do. Shall I caution
him? No; I don't think I can spoil his happiness--and perhaps the man
may be improved. He is his nearest relation, and I have no right
to interfere. His own good sense will protect him--but I wish Mr.
Edmonstone was at home.'

She therefore did not check his expressions of delight, nor object to
his going to Broadstone early the next morning. He had just dismounted
before the inn-yard, when a boy put a note into his hand, and he was so
absorbed in its contents, that he did not perceive Philip till after
two greetings had passed unheard. When at length he was recalled,
he started, and exclaimed, rapturously, as he put the note into his
cousin's hand,

'See here--it is himself!'

'Who?'

'My uncle. My poor mother's own brother.'

'Sebastian Bach Dixon,' read Philip. 'Ha! it was he who took me for you
yesterday.'

'I saw him at the concert--I was sure it could be no other. I came in
on purpose to find him, and here he is waiting for me. Is not it a happy
chance?'

'Happy!' echoed Philip, in a far different tone.

'How I have longed for this--for any one who could remember and tell me
of her--of my mother--my poor, dear young mother! And her own brother!
I have been thinking of it all night, and he knows I am here, and is as
eager as myself. He is waiting for me,' ended Guy, hurrying off.

'Stop!' said Philip, gravely. 'Think before acting. I seriously advise
you to have nothing to do with this man, at least personally. Let me see
him, and learn what he wants.'

'He wants me,' impatiently answered Guy. 'You are not his nephew.'

'Thank heaven!' thought Philip. 'Do you imagine your relationship is the
sole cause of his seeking you?'

'I don't know--I don't care!' cried Guy, with vehemence. 'I will not
listen to suspicions of my mother's brother.'

'It is more than suspicion. Hear me calmly. I speak for your good. I
know th