Now, the Earl of Ashborough had lately discovered, that in pursuit of his right honourable revenge against Sir Sidney Delaware, he _had_ hatched a crocodile's egg in his poultry-yard; and though he certainly repented having done so, in exact proportion to the consequent evil it had brought upon himself, he of course felt his hatred towards Sir Sidney Delaware, increased in the same degree. Lord Ashborough would not have given his right hand, or any thing the least like it, to have had full vengeance on the Delaware family, for he was a man that valued both his hands highly, and would not have parted with either of them; but whereas he would, a month or two before, have given a considerable portion of his golden stores, which were the next things to drops of his blood, he would now have given double the sum, to see the ruin of the race he hated. As he lay back, then, in the chariot, he thought over all the events, and could not help hoping that some circumstance might yet give him an opportunity of balancing the long account of those vexations and uncomforts which had fallen upon him, in, with, from, through, and by the affairs of Sir Sidney Delaware, and also of inflicting upon that gentleman and his family evils in a like proportion. "At all events," he thought--and it was the most consolatory reflection that he had been able to find--"At all events, they have been forced to leave the country, and have most probably gone to America; so that all danger of such a degrading connexion being formed by Beauchamp, is now at an end. So far, therefore, my labour and anxiety has not been in vain, and I may flatter myself at least, that one great object has been gained, if not the whole." There was another slight gleam of hope or expectation, flickering over the dying lamp of the earl's former designs. If one may use the term, it was a hopeless hope--the stout swimmer's last gasp--yet without it Lord Ashborough would probably never have attended to Harding's request. Hating all the Delaware race as he did, he had not been able to persuade himself fully that Captain Delaware was entirely innocent, notwithstanding the convincing proofs that Beauchamp had laid before him; and he now thought it possible--barely possible--that the murderer Harding might have something to say which would in some way inculpate William Delaware. All these ideas rolled in the earl's mind like the morning clouds of spring--misty, and vague, and varying in shape and size, though still keeping one general character--till night came, and he fell asleep.