The freedom with which Colin expressed his own sentiments respecting the death of the lawyer, and the hand which he firmly believed Doctor Rowel had had in that event, somewhat raised the Squire's doubts of the young man's prudence, though at the same time it went far to convince him of the propriety, if not the absolute necessity, of placing the Doctor himself in some place of security, until a more full and searching investigation could be gone into. That he was open to a serious charge was evident; and, supported as that charge was by the corresponding conduct he had pursued with respect to James Woodruff, the Squire could come to no other conclusion than that it was his clear duty, both as a man and a magistrate, to have the Doctor apprehended as soon as possible. While Colin related in quiet and unassuming language his own scarcely less than heroic attempt to set Woodruff at liberty, together with the disasters which had pursued him afterwards in consequence thereof, Mr. Lu ton's countenance grew now grave, now expressive of admiration, and anon slightly and apparently involuntarily convulsed with emotions which he would not express, though he could not conceal. His lips quivered, and his eyes were occasionally forcibly closed, as though to force back the generous tears which were welling up from his bosom. In truth, the _father's_ heart was touched. _He_ felt where another man would not, and admired as the height of nobleness and magnanimity what other men might barely have commended merely as a good action, which anybody else would have done if placed in similar circumstances. All this time, too, he kept supping his wine and cracking his walnuts, picking his almonds, and demolishing his dried fruit with a degree of unconscious industry, that could not but have proved highly interesting and edifying to any observing spectator. When Colin had concluded, the Squire looked earnestly in his face during a few moments; he cast them to the ground again, and said nothing; he filled his glass, and Colin's too, but with an effort, for his hand slightly trembled as he did it; again he looked at him, and again his eyes were earthwards. “My dear boy!” said he, but the words faltered on his lips,--“my dear boy! I am proud of you; but your presence makes me ashamed. I bitterly regret it--deeply and bitterly--and yet I ought not, when it has given me such a noble mind as this!” He paused a moment, and then, as though with some sudden determination to shake off certain unwelcome and misplaced reflections, observed--“But, come,--drink your wine. I was not thinking much what I was talking about. Let us to business. I told you some time ago I should do something for you. What I have heard to-night has not lessened that determination. In the first place, have you left that vagabond place you were living in?” Colin replied, that he had informed Peter Veriquear of his intention to leave, and was at liberty to take his departure at any hour.