t two
letters--one addressed to "Mademoiselle de Barras, chez M. Marston," and
the other to himself. He took them both, dismissed the messenger, and
opening that addressed to himself, read as follows, while he slowly
retraced his steps towards the house:--

Dear Richard,

I am a whimsical fellow, as you doubtless remember, and have lately
grown, they tell me, rather hippish besides. I do not know to which
infirmity I am to attribute a sudden fancy that urges me to pay you a
visit, if you will admit me. To say truth, my dear Dick, I wish to see a
little of your part of the world, and, I will confess it, en passant, to
see a little of you too. I really wish to make acquaintance with your
family; and though they tell me my health is very much shaken, I must
say, in self-defense, I am not a troublesome inmate. I can perfectly take
care of myself, and need no nursing or caudling whatever. Will you
present this, my petition, to Mrs. Marston, and report her decision
thereon to me. Seriously, I know that your house may be full, or some
other contretemps may make it impracticable for me just now to invade
you. If it be so, tell me, my dear Richard, frankly, as my movements are
perfectly free, and my time all my own, so that I can arrange my visit to
suit your convenience.

--Yours, &c.,

WYNSTON E. BERKLEY

P.S.--Direct to me at ---- Hotel, in Chester, as I shall probably be
there by the time this reaches you.

"Ill-bred and pushing as ever," quoth Mr. Marston, angrily, as he thrust
the unwelcome letter into his pocket. "This fellow, wallowing in wealth,
without one nearer relative on earth than I, and associated more nearly
still with me the--pshaw! not affection--the recollections of early and
intimate companionship, leaves me unaided, for years of desertion and
suffering, to the buffetings of the world, and the troubles of all but
overwhelming pecuniary difficulties, and now, with the cool confidence of
one entitled to respect and welcome, invites himself to my house. Coming
here," he continued, after a gloomy pause, and still pacing slowly
towards the house, "to collect amusing materials for next season's
gossip--stories about the married Benedick--the bankrupt beau--the outcast
tenant of a Cheshire wilderness"; and, as he said this, he looked at the
neglected prospect before him with an eye almost of hatred. "Aye, to see
the nakedness of the land is he coming, but he shall be disappointed. His
money may buy him a co