Lord Glenarvon then briefly stated, that he had rescued him from Gondimar’s hands, with the assistance of a servant named Macpherson, and some of his followers; and that ever since he had kept him concealed at the priory. “And where is he at this time?” said the duke.—“He was with Lord Glenarvon’s cousin, Colonel de Ruthven, at Colwood Bay.”—“And when could the duke speak with Viviani?”—“When it was his pleasure.” “That night?”—“Yes, even on that very night.”—“What witness could Lord Glenarvon bring, as to the truth of this account, besides Viviani?”—“La Crusca, an Italian, from whom Macpherson had received the child when in Italy—La Crusca the guilty instrument of Viviani’s crimes.”—“And where was La Crusca?”—“Madness had fallen on him after the child had been taken from him by Viviani’s orders: he had returned in company with Macpherson to Ireland. Lord Glenarvon had offered him an asylum at his castle. Lady Margaret one day had beheld him; and Gondimar had even fainted upon seeing him suddenly, having repeatedly been assured that he was dead.”—“By whom was he informed that he was dead?”—“By Lady Margaret and Viviani.”—“Was Gondimar then aware of this secret?”—“No; but of other secrets, in which La Crusca and Viviani were concerned, equally horrible perhaps, but not material now to name.” This conversation having ended, the duke ordered his carriage, and prepared to drive to Colwood Bay. Lord Glenarvon promised in a few hours to meet him there, and bring with him Viviani. “If he restore my child, and confesses every thing,” said the duke, before he left Lord Glenarvon, “pray inform him, that I will promise him a pardon.” “He values not such promise,” said Glenarvon scornfully. “Lady Margaret’s life and honour are in his power. Viviani can confer favours, but not receive them.” The duke started, and looked full in the face of Glenarvon. “Who is this Viviani?” he said, in a tone of voice loud and terrible. “An idol,” replied Glenarvon, “whom the multitude have set up for themselves, and worshipped, forsaking their true faith, to follow after a false light—a man who is in love with crime and baseness—one, of whom it has been said, that he hath an imagination of fire playing around a heart of ice—one whom the never-dying worm feeds on by night and day—a hypocrite,” continued Glenarvon, with a smile of bitterness, “who wears a mask to his friends, and defeats his enemies by his unexpected sincerity—a coward, with more of bravery than some who fear nothing; for, even in his utmost terror, he defies that which he fears.” “And where is this wretch?” said the duke: “what dungeon is black enough to hold him? What rack has been prepared to punish him for his crimes?” “He is as I have said,” replied Glenarvon triumphantly, “the idol of the fair, and the great. Is it virtue that women prize? Is it honour and renown they worship? Throw but the dazzling light of genius upon baseness, and corruption, and every