Well then, go on, Risby, said Mr. Powis:  you see the Abbey just before you; my wife and I will walk fast;—­we shall be but a few minutes behind.

My faculties were quite unhing’d, the sight of the noble structure.—­I stopp’d, paus’d, then rode on; stopp’d again, irresolute whether to proceed.—­Recollecting your strict injunctions, I reach’d the gate which leads to the back entrance; there I saw a well-looking gentleman and the game-keeper just got off their horses:—­the former, after paying me the compliment of his hat, took a brace of hares from the keeper, and went into the house.—­I ask’d of a servant who stood by, if that was Sir James Powis?

No, Sir, he replied; but Sir James is within.

Who is that gentleman? return’d I.

His name is Morgan, Sir,

Very intimate here, I suppose—­is he not?

Yes, very intimate, Sir.

Then he is the person I have business with; pray tell him so.

The servant obey’d.—­Mr. Morgan came to me, before I had dismounted; and accosting me very genteely, ask’d what my commands were with him?

Be so obliging, Sir, I replied; to go a small distance from the house; and I will unfold an affair which I am sorry to be the messenger of.

Nothing is amiss, Sir, I hope:  you look strangely terrified; but I’ll go with you this instant.—­On that he led me by a little path to a walk planted thick with elms; at one end of which was a bench, where we seated ourselves.—­Now, Sir, said Mr. Morgan, you may here deliver what you have to say with secrecy.—­I don’t recollect to have had the honour of seeing you before;—­but I wait with impatience to be inform’d the occasion of this visit.

You are a friend, I presume, of Sir James Powis?

Yes, Sir, I am:  he has few of longer standing, and, as times go, more sincere, I believe.—­But what of that?—­do you know any harm, Sir, of me, or of my friend?

God knows I do not;—­but I am acquainted, Mr. Morgan, with an unfortunate circumstance relative to Sir James.

Sir James!  Zounds, do speak out:—­Sir James, to my knowledge, does not owe a shilling.

It is not money matters, Sir, that brought me here:—­heaven grant it was!

The devil, Sir!—­tell me at once, what is this damn’d affair?  Upon my soul, you must tell me immediately.

Behold!—­read, Sir—­what a task is mine! (putting your letter into his hands.)

Never was grief, surprize, and disappointment so strongly painted as in him.—­At first, he stood quite silent; every feature distorted:—­then starting back some paces, threw his hat over the hedge:—­stamp’d on his wig;—­and was stripping himself naked, to fling his clothes into a pond just by, when I prevented him.

Stop, Sir, I cried:  do not alarm the family before they are prepar’d.—­Think of the dreadful consequences;—­think of the unhappy parents!—­Let us consult how to break it to them, without severing their hearts at one blow.