s
his _morale_ by associating with all kinds and descriptions of people;
and there is no doubt that in doing so he extends the sphere of his
knowledge of mankind. After all," muttered he, with a sigh, "it 's only
learning the geography of a land too unhealthy to live in."

Glencore arose as he said this, and, with a nod of leave-taking, retired
to his room.

CHAPTER XXXVI. A FEVERED MIND

Harcourt passed the morning of the following day in watching the street
for Scaresby's arrival. Glencore's impatience had grown into absolute
fever to obtain the missing letter, and he kept asking every moment at
what hour he had promised to be there, and wondering at his delay.

Noon passed over,--one o'clock; it was now nearly half-past, as a
carriage drove hastily to the door.

"At last," cried Glencore, with a deep sigh.

"Sir Gilbert Bruce, sir, requests to know if you can receive him," said
the servant to Harcourt.

"Another disappointment!" muttered Glencore, as he left the room, when
Harcourt motioned to the servant to introduce the visitor.

"My dear Colonel Harcourt," cried the other, entering, "excuse a very
abrupt call; but I have a most pressing need of your assistance. I hear
you can inform me of Lord Glencore's address."

"He is residing in North Wales at present. I can give you his post
town."

"Yes, but can I be certain that he will admit me if I should go down
there? He is living, I hear, in strict retirement, and I am anxious for
a personal interview."

"I cannot insure you that," said Harcourt. "He does live, as you have
heard, entirely estranged from all society. But if you write to him--"

"Ah! there's the difficulty. A letter and its reply takes some days."

"And is the matter, then, so very imminent?"

"It is so; at least it is thought to be so by an authority that neither
you nor I will be likely to dispute. You know his Lordship intimately, I
fancy?"

"Perhaps. I may call myself as much his friend as any man living."

"Well, then, I may confide to you my business with him. It happened
that, a few days back, Lord Adderley was on a visit with the King at
Brighton, when a foreign messenger arrived with despatches. They were,
of course, forwarded to him there; and as the King has a passion for
that species of literature, he opened them all himself. Now, I suspect
that his Majesty cares more for the amusing incidents which occasionally
diversify the life of foreign courts than for the great