no punishment could be too great
for the seducer of innocence, the selfish invader of a whole family's
repose."

Nor did William here speak what he did not think--he merely forgot his
own conduct; or if he did recall it to his mind, it was with some fair
interpretations in his own behalf; such as self-love ever supplies to
those who wish to cheat intruding conscience.

Young Henry being sent for to appear before this triumvirate, he came
with a light step and a cheerful face. But, on the charge against him
being exhibited, his countenance changed--yet only to the expression of
surprise! He boldly asserted his innocence, plainly told the real fact,
and with a deportment so perfectly unembarrassed, that nothing but the
asseverations of the curate, "that his daughter had confessed the whole,"
could have rendered the story Henry told suspected; although some of the
incidents he related were of no common kind. But Mr. Rymer's charge was
an objection to his veracity too potent to be overcome; and the dean
exclaimed in anger--

"We want not your avowal of your guilt--the mother's evidence is
testimony sufficient."

"The virtuous Rebecca is not a mother," said Henry, with firmness.

William here, like Rebecca's sisters, took Henry aside, and warned him
not to "add to his offence by denying what was proved against him."

But Henry's spirit was too manly, his affection too sincere, not to
vindicate the chastity of her he loved, even at his own peril. He again
and again protested "she was virtuous."

"Let her instantly be sent for," said the dean, "and this madman
confronted with her." Then adding, that as he wished everything might be
conducted with secrecy, he would not employ his clerk on the unhappy
occasion: he desired William to draw up the form of an oath, which he
would administer as soon as she arrived.

A man and horse were immediately despatched to bring Rebecca: William
drew up an affidavit as his father had directed him--in _Rebecca's name
solemnly protesting she was a mother_, _and Henry the father of her
child_. And now, the dean, suppressing till she came the warmth of his
displeasure, spoke thus calmly to Henry:--

"Even supposing that your improbable tale of having found this child, and
all your declarations in respect to it were true, still you would be
greatly criminal. What plea can you make for not having immediately
revealed the circumstance to me or some other proper person, that the
real