“Pendennyss!” exclaimed the other, “imposed on the hospitality of a worthy man, under an assumed appellation, in order to pry into the character of a lovely female, who was only too good for him, and who now is willing to forget his follies, and make him not only the happiest of men, but the nephew of Mr. Benfield.”

During this speech, the countenance of Mr. Benfield had manifested evident emotion:  he looked from one to another, until he saw Mrs. Wilson smiling near him.  Pointing to the earl with his finger, he stood unable to speak, as she answered simply,—­

“Lord Pendennyss.”

“And Emmy dear—­will you—­will you marry him?” cried Mr. Benfield, suppressing his feelings, to give utterance to his question.

Emily felt for her uncle, and blushing deeply, with great frankness she put her hand in that of the earl, who pressed it with rapture again and again to his lips.

Mr. Benfield sank into a chair, and with a heart softened by emotion, burst into, tears.

“Peter,” he cried, struggling with his feelings, “I am now ready to depart in peace—­I shall see my darling Emmy happy, and to her care I shall commit you.”

Emily, deeply affected with his love, threw herself into his arms, in a torrent of tears, and was removed from them by Pendennyss, in consideration for the feelings of both.

Jane felt no emotions of envy for her sister’s happiness; on the contrary, she rejoiced in common with the rest of their friends in her brightening prospects, and they all took their seats at the supper table, as happy a group as was contained in the wide circle of the metropolis.  A few more particulars served to explain the mystery sufficiently, until a more fitting opportunity made them acquainted with the whole of the earl’s proceedings.

“My Lord Pendennyss,” said Sir Edward, pouring out a glass of wine, and passing the bottle to his neighbor:  “I drink your health—­and happiness to yourself and my darling child.”

The toast was drunk by all the family, and the earl replied to the compliments with his thanks and smiles, while Emily could only notice them with her blushes and tears.

But this was an opportunity not to be lost by the honest steward, who, from affection and long services, had been indulged in familiarities exceeding any other of his master’s establishment.  He very deliberately helped himself to a glass of wine, and drawing near the seat of the bride-elect, with an humble reverence, commenced his speech as follows: 

“My dear Miss Emmy:—­Here’s hoping you’ll live to be a comfort to your honored father, and your honored mother, and my dear honored master, and yourself, and Madam Wilson.”  The steward paused to clear his voice, and profited by the delay to cast his eye round the table to collect the names; “and Mr. John Moseley, and sweet Mrs. Moseley, and pretty Miss Jane” (Peter had lived too long in the world to compliment one handsome