John, who knew of the refusal of his sister, and was not a little displeased with the cavalier treatment he had received at Denbigh’s hands, felt indignant at such improper levity in a married man, and approached with—­

“Your servant, Mr. Denbigh—­I hope my Lady Laura is well.”

Pendennyss understood his look, and replied very gravely—­

“Your servant, Mr. John Moseley—­my Lady Laura is, or certainly ought to be, very well, as she has this moment gone to a rout, accompanied by her husband.”

The quick eye of John glanced from the earl to his aunt, to Emily; a lurking smile was on all their features.  The heightened color of his sister, the flashing eyes of the young nobleman, the face of his aunt, all told him that something uncommon was about to be explained; and, yielding to his feelings, he caught the hand which Pendennyss extended to him, and cried,

“Denbigh, I see—­I feel—­there is some unaccountable mistake—­we are—­”

“Brothers!” said the earl, emphatically.  “Sir Edward—­dear Lady Moseley, I throw myself on your mercy.  I am an impostor:  when your hospitality received me into your house, it is true you admitted George Denbigh, but he is better known as the Earl of Pendennyss.”

“The Earl of Pendennyss!” exclaimed Lady Moseley, in a glow of delight, as she saw at once through some juvenile folly a deception which promised both happiness and rank to one of her children.  “Is it possible, my dear Charlotte, that this is your unknown friend?”

“The very same, Anne,” replied the smiling widow, “and guilty of a folly that, at all events, removes the distance between us a little, by showing that he is subject to the failings of mortality.  But the masquerade is ended, and I hope you and Edward will not only treat him as an earl, but receive him as a son.”

“Most willingly—­most willingly,” cried the baronet, with great energy; “be he prince, peer, or beggar, he is the preserver of my child, and as such he is always welcome.”

The door now slowly opened, and the venerable bachelor appeared on its threshold.

Pendennyss, who had never forgotten the good will manifested to him by Mr. Benfield, met him with a look of pleasure, as he expressed his happiness at seeing him again in London.

“I never have forgotten your goodness in sending honest Peter such a distance from home, on the object of his visit.  I now regret that a feeling of shame occasioned my answering your kindness so laconically:”  turning to Mrs. Wilson, he added, “for a time I knew not how to write a letter even, being afraid to sign my proper appellation, and ashamed to use my adopted.”

“Mr. Denbigh, I am happy to see you.  I did send Peter, it is true, to London, on a message to you—­but it is all over now,” the old man sighed—­“Peter, however, escaped the snares of this wicked place; and if you are happy, I am content.  I remember when the Earl of—­”