I shook hands with the old gentleman, and returned home, but my brain whirled with the fear of a confirmation, of that which Mr Masterton had so carelessly conveyed.  Anything like a possibility, immediately was swelled to a certainty in my imagination, so ardent and heated on the one subject; and as soon as I regained my room, I threw myself on the sofa, and fell into a deep reverie.  I tried to approximate the features of Lady Maelstrom to mine, but all the ingenuity in the world could not effect that; but still, I might be like my father—­but my father was dead, and that threw a chill over the whole glowing picture which I had, as usual, conjured up; besides, it was asserted that I was born in wedlock, and there was a doubt relative to the marriage of her ladyship.

After a long cogitation I jumped up, seized my hat, and set off for Grosvenor Square, determining to ask a private interview with her ladyship, and at once end my harassing doubts and surmises.  I think there could not be a greater proof of my madness than my venturing to attack a lady of forty upon the irregularities of her youth, and to question her upon a subject which had been confided but to two or three, and she imagined had been long forgotten:  but this never struck me; all considerations were levelled in my ardent pursuit.  I walked through the streets at a rapid pace, the crowd passed by me as shadows, I neither saw nor distinguished them; I was deep in reverie as to the best way of breaking the subject to her ladyship, for, notwithstanding my monomania, I perceived it to be a point of great delicacy.  After having overturned about twenty people in my mad career, I arrived at the door and knocked.  My heart beat almost as hard against my ribs with excitement.

“Is her ladyship at home?”

“Yes, sir.”

I was ushered into the drawing-room, and found her sitting with two of her nieces, the Misses Fairfax.

“Mr Newland, you have been quite a stranger,” said her ladyship, as I walked up to her and made my obeisance.  “I did intend to scold you well; but I suppose that sad affair of poor Major Carbonnell’s has been a heavy blow to you—­you were so intimate—­lived together, I believe, did you not?  However, you have not so much cause to regret, for he was not a very proper companion for young men like you:  to tell you the truth, I consider it as a fortunate circumstance that he was removed, for he would, by degrees, have led you into all manner of mischief, and have persuaded you to squander your fortune.  I did at one time think of giving you a hint, but it was a delicate point.  Now that he is gone, I tell you very candidly that you have had an escape.  A young man like you, Mr Newland, who could command an alliance into the highest, yes, the very highest families—­and let me tell you, Mr Newland, that there is nothing like connection—­money is of no consequence to you, but connection, Mr Newland, is what you should look for—­connection with some high family, and then you will do well.  I should like to see you settled—­well settled, I mean, Mr Newland.  Now that you are rid of the Major, who has ruined many young men in his time, I trust you will seriously think of settling down into a married man.  Cecilia, my dear, show your tambour work to Mr Newland, and ask him his opinion.  Is it not beautiful, Mr Newland?”