"I am prolix, Percival," continued my brother, "but you share in the enthusiasm, which has for its object, a character like _this_." He at length, sedately gave us the particulars of the discovery of Mary's escape, which, you will easily imagine, produced the utmost confusion: I was naturally the first person suspected as having aided her; but I had, fortunately, passed the Saturday at Bishop's-Auckland, and had slept there. This _alibi_ proved, and my remaining quiet at Wilson's perplexed them, and lost in conjectures, they gave up the fruitless question. Frank was requested to convey our letters to Mr. Flint. My master keeps his room, said he, sorrowfully; and Madam Flint no more dares to act in the matter, than to swallow fire, or poison, poor soul! But do not cry, my dear lady, all will turn out well in time. Let me consider, I will contrive! Anne goes into the room, and there is nothing she can refuse me, she is as honest as the day is light, and loves you, Madam. Never fear, you have got Mr. Howard at your side, and it is a long lane indeed that has no end. I know but of one that never ends, let them take that who like it, say I; but yours is a _sure road_, Madam, and never mind, altho' it is not, at present, all on the nail. "Oh Percival," exclaimed poor Howard, lifting up his expressive eyes to Heaven, "what is man when true to his endowments! He is indeed but little lower than the angels, and worthy of the all-perfect hand which made him! But I shall meet this fellow-mortal, and rejoice with him in his glorious recompence! Our letters were committed to his faithful hands. Two or three days after, he came to make his farewell visit, and to request Mary to write to his mother, that she was satisfied with his conduct. Our letters to the hall were returned, the _seals unbroken_. Anne was discharged at a moment. Mr. Flamall, said Frank, paid me my wages, and told me I did not suit my place nor the family. I could have told you that, said I, long ago; but you had nothing to do with me, nor I with you, Mr. Flamall. I spoke as I felt, Sir, added he, nodding to me. He warned me if I valued a whole skin, not to be insolent; but I told him that neither my skin nor my honesty would be in danger from him. He said, I was a low scoundrel. I never heard, said I, keeping my ground, of a scoundrel who was not low, though he tacked _squire_ or _counsellor_ to his name. He advanced to strike me, but he thought better of it, I believe, for he turned on his heel. I wish to the Lord he had, he would have met with his match at a hard blow, though he will never find one in his roguery. Anne says there are fine doings going on between him and Miss Flint. So much the better, let them have their swing, till their own noose catches them! 'tis the old one's trick, you know _that_, Sir, continued he, and have often told us that his snares were of our own making, and that we had arms in our hands, that would bind his, if we were disposed to use them.