I immediately began the conversation by apologizing for the warmth and earnestness of my interrogations relative to Tarefield; and proceeded to inform him of so much of Miss Cowley's history as was needful, in order to account for the interest I had discovered in relation to her. In the course of my little narrative, I spoke of Mr. Flamall, as having by his authority removed his ward from friends devoted to her, and to whom she was attached; and I added that, having learned from you the repugnance with which Miss Cowley had quitted her wonted asylum, I wish to know, that, with Lady Maclairn, her situation had been such as she merited. "We know none of Philip's connections," answered he, carelessly lading the limpid water with a brass bason attached by a chain to the fountain; "but if Philip's mother resembles him, she must be worthy of the guest you have described; for he is a good and an _honest man_. For the rest of his relations, to give you my honest opinion of them, I do not believe they would give this cup of water towards the happiness of any one. As for his precious uncle Flamall, he is a complete scoundrel."--"Then you know him!" observed I, eagerly. "Yes, yes," answered he, with warmth, "I know him, and I trust he will know _Sinclair_ before many months elapse. He will not be the first rascal this arm has chastised!"--"Would to God," cried I, "that mine could second you!" He smiled and observed, "He would recollect my wish, and that it should strengthen his own." I now, my dear Lucy, more explicitly detailed to him Miss Cowley's connection with this villain: and if my own wretched anxieties appeared, I could not help it. He listened to me with the deepest attention, and grasping my hand, swore a solemn oath, to search to the bottom of a business so perfectly consonant to the man's character and conduct. "Hear my story, Mr. Hardcastle, and then judge whether your Miss Cowley's cause can be in better hands," added he, in an impressive tone. "I do not believe she would need a defender whilst an honest man can be found; but to me she shall be another sister, and with Margaret's injuries will I remember Miss Cowley's! My situation in life," continued he, "separated me from my mother soon after she became a widow; a maternal uncle, who lives at Boston in America, having destined me to the same pursuits in life, from which he had risen to respectable opulence. I had quitted my father's study, who was a minister of the kirk of Scotland, some time before his decease; and under the favour of my good uncle had then risen nearly to my present station, to wit, commander of one of _his_ ships, instead of one of my _own_, which is at present in this port. I was fortunately not too remote from my father for his last blessing and embrace. I had also the consolation to find, that my uncle was disposed to render my mother and sister comfortable; an attention peculiarly necessary in the low condition of my father's finances. I am eight or