I at once regretted and pitied. Instead of that, the passion which he feigned to me, as well as to its object, was a mere deceit, a matter of miserable and vain-glorious boasting. He could place the touching and beautiful letters, full of the most confiding love and the bitterest self-reproaches, in the hands of his mistress, to be tossed about for any chance eye! I have restored the letters to one who was the beloved child of my oldest and kindest friend!"
"Mr. Maynard, I shall be happy to accompany you," said Lord Alfred. "Sir George, what friend shall I communicate with?"
"With none: I will not," said Kingston, doggedly, "meet a moon-struck maniac!—a nobody!—a low-born beggar!"
"Leave out the epithet," returned Maynard, "and I am not ashamed of being the last. Sir George Kingston, my father served with yours, and he was the superior officer. His death-wound was received while defending his friend, Sir Edmund Kingston."
"I see I must give you the lesson myself that I meant you should have received from
