was cast into hell, notwithstanding his

money.'

And the beggar went to heaven, did he not?'-' Then you, Miss Lambert, have a chance, if poverty can frank you there,' replied the graceful youth.

Mr. Courtney being a moralist, now interfered; harangued most eloquently on unbecoming warmth-the want of proper dignity displayed in quarrelling-the danger of servants overhearing and repeating -what the world might say and concluded by a request, that his son might not forget his name and elevated situation. He then uttered a fervent thanksgiving to hea ven, that his own character stood unimpeached, and—oh modesty!-unimpeachable.

Charles Delacour arose, and inquiring the road to Mr. Vernon's, said, he would pass an hour with his friend Henry; and then return to arrange with his pupils the course of study they should pursue.

25

CHAP. II.

The modest mansion lay,

A refuge to the neighbouring poor,
And strangers led astray.'

CATHERINE KENNEDY, the poor disappointed woman, with a heavy heart and overflowing eyes, slowly retraced her steps from the Abbey; but her mortifications were not yet concluded, for at the gate she encountered the keeper, who had not been there on her entrance into the avenue.

A fine spot of work you've made for me, I suppose,' screamed the incensed termagant; mistress will think 'twas I let you pass, and murder me, so she will; what the devil possessed you to go up to the house? I'll warrant you've come back no

better than you went: more kicks than halfpence there, as the saying is.'

I went for a sup of wine for my poor man, who is lying sick with me;' answered the woman.

Musha, then, a nate choice you made of where you'd ask for wine; in troth, you might as well ha' gone for a quart of moonshine; or asked a highlander for his knee buckles; you wouldn't get a sup of buttermilk, let alone wine,' vociferated the gatekeeper. She added in a milder tone, 'can't you go a little further to Mr. Vernon's? you'll not be sent away from that emptyhanded, any how.'

• Whereabouts is it? asked Catherine. He's the minister of the parish; his wife's a charitable good christian, and so are the young ladies, and him that's sick, poor master Henry; a good warrant he was to help a poor body; and, if he dies, the heavens

be his bed! Go on half a mile to your left,

and

any one will shew you the minister's.' Catherine thanked her; and having followed her directions, soon arrived at the gate of the parsonage. She there met Caroline Vernon, who, in a voice of kind. ness, inquired her business.

I beg your pardon, my dear Miss; I've made bold to come and ask a little wine for my sick husband.'

Which most assuredly you shall have,' returned Caroline. Taking the phial from her hand, she entered the dining-room, saying to her father, my dear sir, here is a poor woman asking some wine for her husband who, she says, is very ill.'

'We must inquire the nature of his illness,' replied Mr. Vernon; the poor suppose wine to be a sovereign remedy for all diseases; and would, if permitted, administer it when it might be injurious. My good woman,' he inquired, what is your husband's disorder?'

She blushed; and remembering the hor ror its very name had excited at the Abbey, hesitated: being urged by Mr. Vernon, and assured she should have the wine if necessary for the complaint, she faulteringly answered, it is a fever.'

And the crisis is at hand, I suppose,' he calmly replied. Maria, my love,' he said to his eldest daughter, 'let this poor woman have some wine, and should she require more, she shall have it with much pleasure. I know the malignancy of this fever; my duty has lately called me to the bed-side of several parishioners under its influence, and wine is particularly necessary at a certain stage of the disease. Return, my good

woman,' he continued, to your husband; this night his fate may be decided: you are but lately come to this parish, but I know where you live, and I will send or call tomorrow. You say you have children, and, as your husband's illness must prevent his daily