and after Wednesday
you will, I trust, assume your rightful name."

"Certainly," replied Clarence; "since I am no longer 'the Disowned.'"

Leaving Clarence now for a brief while to renew his acquaintance with
the scenes of his childhood, and to offer the tribute of his filial
tears to the ashes of a father whose injustice had been but "the
stinging of a heart the world had stung," we return to some old
acquaintances in the various conduct of our drama.

CHAPTER LXXII.

Upon his couch the veiled Mokanna lay.--The Veiled Prophet.

The autumn sun broke through an apartment in a villa in the
neighbourhood of London, furnished with the most prodigal yet not
tasteless attention to luxury and show, within which, beside a table
strewed with newspapers, letters, and accounts, lay Richard Crauford,
extended carelessly upon a sofa which might almost have contented the
Sybarite who quarrelled with a rose-leaf. At his elbow was a bottle
half emptied and a wineglass just filled. An expression of triumph
and enjoyment was visible upon his handsome but usually inexpressive
countenance.

"Well," said he, taking up a newspaper, "let us read this paragraph
again. What a beautiful sensation it is to see one's name in print. 'We
understand that Richard Crauford, Esq., M. P. for ----, is to be raised
to the dignity of the peerage. There does not perhaps exist in the
country a gentleman more universally beloved and esteemed' (mark that,
Dicky Crauford). 'The invariable generosity with which his immense
wealth has been employed, his high professional honour, the undeviating
and consistent integrity of his political career' (ay, to be sure, it is
only your honest fools who are inconsistent: no man can deviate who has
one firm principle, self-interest), 'his manly and energetic attention
to the welfare of religion' (he! he! he!), 'conjoined to a fortune
almost incalculable, render this condescension of our gracious Sovereign
no less judicious than deserved! We hear that the title proposed for the
new peer is that of Viscount Innisdale, which, we believe, was formerly
in the noble family of which Mr. Crauford is a distant branch.'

"He! he! he! Bravo! bravo! Viscount Innisdale, noble family, distant
branch,--the devil I am! What an ignoramus my father was not to know
that! Why, rest his soul, he never knew who his grandfather was; but the
world shall not be equally ignorant of that important point. Let me see,
who shall be Viscoun