felt disposed to make.  Denbigh, however, had taken no notice of the indignity, and continued his directions in the same mild and benevolent manner he had used during the whole interview.  Half a crown was but little, thought Emily, for a family that was starving; and, unwilling to judge harshly of one she had begun to value so highly, she came to the painful conclusion, her companion was not as rich as he deserved to be.  Emily had not yet to learn that charity was in proportion to the means of the donor, and a gentle wish insensibly stole over her that Denbigh might in some way become more richly endowed with the good things of this world.  Until this moment her thoughts had never turned to his temporal condition.  She knew he was an officer in the army, but of what rank, or even of what regiment, she was ignorant.  He had frequently touched in his conversations on the customs of the different countries he had seen.  He had served in Italy, in the north of Europe, in the West Indies, in Spain.  Of the manners of the people, of their characters, he not unfrequently spoke, and with a degree of intelligence, a liberality, a justness of discrimination, that had charmed his auditors; but on the point of personal service he had maintained a silence that was inflexible, and not a little surprising—­more particularly of that part of his history which related to the latter country; from all which she was rather inclined to think his military rank was not as high as she thought he merited, and that possibly he felt an awkwardness of putting it in contrast with the more elevated station of Colonel Egerton.  The same idea had struck the whole family, and prevented any inquiries which might be painful.  He was so connected with the mournful event of his father’s death, that no questions could be put with propriety to the doctor’s family; and if Francis had been more communicative to Clara, she was too good a wife to mention it, and her own family was possessed of too just a sense of propriety to touch upon points that might bring her conjugal fidelity in question.

Though Denbigh appeared a little abstracted during the ride, his questions concerning Sir Edward and her friends kind and affectionate.  As they approached the house he suffered his horse to walk, and, after some hesitation, he took a letter from his pocket, and handing it to her, said—­

“I hope Miss Moseley will not think me impertinent in becoming the bearer of a letter ’from her cousin, Lord Chatterton.  He requested it so earnestly, that I could not refuse taking what I am sensible is a great liberty; for it would be deception did I affect to be ignorant of his admiration, or of his generous treatment of a passion she cannot return.  Chatterton,” and he smiled mournfully, “is yet too true to cease his commendations.”

Emily blushed painfully, but she took the letter in silence; and as Denbigh pursued the topic no further, the little distance they had to go was ridden in silence.  On entering the gates, however, he said, inquiringly, and with much interest—­