“Not unsolicited, Sir Edward.  I have no doubt, had nay better fortune allowed me the acquaintance of my present rector, his own merit would have obtained what a sense of justice requires I should say was granted to an applicant to whom the ear of royalty itself would not have been deaf.”

It was the turn of the Moseleys now to look surprised, and Sir Edward ventured to ask an explanation.

“It was my cousin, the Earl of Pendennyss, who applied for it, as a favor done to himself; and Pendennyss is a man not to be refused anything.”

“Lord Pendennyss!” exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, with animation; “and in what way came we to be under this obligation to Lord Pendennyss?”

“He did me the honor of a call during my visit to Ireland, madam,” replied the earl; “and on inquiring of my steward after his old friend, Doctor Stevens, learnt his death, and the claims of Mr. Ives; but the reason he gave me was his interest in the widow of General Wilson,” bowing with much solemnity to the lady as he spoke.

“I am gratified to find the earl yet remembers us,” said Mrs. Wilson, struggling to restrain her tears.  “Are we to have the pleasure of seeing him soon?”

“I received a letter from him yesterday, saying he should be here in all next week, madam.”  And turning pleasantly to Jane and her sister, he continued, “Sir Edward, you have here rewards fit for heavier services, and the earl is a great admirer of female charms.”

“Is he not married, my lord?” asked the baronet, with great simplicity.

“No, baronet, nor engaged; but how long he will remain so after his hardihood in venturing into this neighborhood, will, I trust, depend on one of these young ladies.”

Jane looked grave—­for trifling on love was heresy, in her estimation; but Emily laughed, with an expression in which a skilful physiognomist might have read—­if he means me, he is mistaken.

“Your cousin, Lord Chatterton, has found interest, Sir Edward,” continued the peer, “to obtain his father’s situation; and if reports speak truth, he wishes to become more nearly related to you, baronet.”

“I do not well see how that can happen,” said Sir Edward with a smile, and who had not art enough to conceal his thoughts, “unless he takes my sister here.”

The cheeks of both the young ladies now vied with the rose; and the peer, observing he had touched on forbidden ground, added, “Chatterton was fortunate to find friends able to bear up against the powerful interest of Lord Haverford.”

“To whom was he indebted for the place, my lord?” asked Mis.  Wilson.

“It was whispered at court, madam,” said the earl, sensibly lowering his voice, and speaking with an air of mystery “and a lord of the bed-chamber is fonder of discoveries than a lord of the council—­that His Grace of Derwent threw the whole of his parliamentary interest into the scale on the baron’s side, but you are not to suppose,” raising his hand gracefully, with a wave of rejection, “that I speak from authority; only a surmise, Sir Edward, only a surmise, my lady.”