Kenelm Chillingly, Book 8.

reakfast-table, and, opening it eagerly, ran his eye hastily over the contents, till he very soon arrived at sentences which appalled him. Lady Chillingly, who was fo

I hope," said

on business. It seems terribly long," and he thrust the

id Mr. Travers, looking up and observing a quiver on his host's lip. "I

k his head wit

re have been six generation

guess," said

f the race fails, he must lean upon me, and-i

blockhead, my dear Sir Peter. This

himself of the "Times" newspaper, he uttered an exclamation of surprise, genuine or simulated,

his heart, now melted into sympathy with the passionate eloquence of a son hitherto so free from amorous romance, and now sorrowing for the ruin of his own cherished hopes. This uneducated country girl would never be such a helpmate to

hat must be consulted. If he will not be happy in my way,

o choose a book of his recommendation, sometimes to direct and seal his letters,-Sir Peter was grateful to any one who s

the face was so sad that the tears rushed to her eyes on seeing it. She laid her h

th hurried, trembling hands. "Don't ask,-don't talk of it; 'tis but one of the disappointme

took her hand in both his, kissed her forehead, and said, whisperingly, "Pretty one,

eringly; but before she reached his side he turned round, waved his hand with a gently repelling gestu