y could not
calculate the consequences that were now to ensue.

Lord Kew, on glancing over the letter, at once divined the quarter
whence it came. The portrait drawn of him was not unlike, as our
characters described by those who hate us are not unlike. He had passed
a reckless youth; indeed he was sad and ashamed of that past life,
longed like the poor prodigal to return to better courses, and had
embraced eagerly the chance afforded him of a union with a woman young,
virtuous, and beautiful, against whom and against heaven he hoped to sin
no more. If we have told or hinted at more of his story than will please
the ear of modern conventionalism, I beseech the reader to believe that
the writer's purpose at least is not dishonest, nor unkindly. The young
gentleman hung his head with sorrow over that sad detail of his life and
its follies. What would he have given to be able to say to Ethel, "This
is not true."

His reproaches to Miss Newcome of course were at once stopped by this
terrible assault on himself. The letter had been put in the Baden
post-box, and so had come to its destination. It was in a disguised
handwriting. Lord Kew could form no idea even of the sex of the scribe.
He put the envelope in his pocket, when Ethel's back was turned.
He examined the paper when he left her. He could make little of the
superscription or of the wafer which had served to close the note. He
did not choose to caution Ethel as to whether she should burn the letter
or divulge it to her friends. He took his share of the pain, as a boy at
school takes his flogging, stoutly and in silence.

When he saw Ethel again, which he did in an hour's time, the generous
young gentleman held his hand out to her. "My dear," he said, "if you
had loved me you never would have shown me that letter." It was his only
reproof. After that he never again reproved or advised her.

Ethel blushed. "You are very brave and generous, Frank," said, bending
her head, "and I am captious and wicked." He felt the hot tear blotting
on his hand from his cousin's downcast eyes.

He kissed her little hand. Lady Anne, who was in the room with her
children when these few words passed between the two in a very low tone,
thought it was a reconciliation. Ethel knew it was a renunciation on
Kew's part--she never liked him so much as at that moment. The young
man was too modest and simple to guess himself what the girl's feelings
were. Could he have told them, his fate and