At this part of the information communicated by Oliver, the young gentleman began to be in doubt whether there might not be something serious in the report; for he recollected some talk of old Martindale’s visit to Genoa, and of his anxiety to discover if some one was living there or not. He also called to mind much that had been said to him by Lady Martindale, dissuading him from taking up his abode at the Abbey, and placing himself in a state of dependence. He remembered distinctly and vividly the tone and expression with which his anxious mother had said to him, “Now, my dear Philip, before you decide on this step, think seriously how you shall be able to bear a reverse, if by any change the wealth of your cousin Martindale should take a different direction, either by his own caprice, or by changes over which he has no controul.” He recollected that this caution was uttered more than once or twice. He considered it therefore as in some measure prophetic. He also recollected that the old gentleman had been very silent and absent at dinner the day before; and from what Miss Isabella Featherstone had said, it seemed very manifest that some serious interruption had occurred when the party were looking over the pictures at the cottage. There was also to be added to this, his own knowledge of the fact that Mr. Martindale had that very morning paid a very long visit to the cottage of the late Richard Smith. All these circumstances put together did, to say the least of it, greatly perplex and puzzle the mind of the young gentleman. He dismissed the trusty Oliver from his presence; and when alone, he began to meditate, plan, arrange, and conjecture, till he found himself in a complete wilderness of perplexities, and a labyrinth of contending thoughts. His meditations, however, availed him not. There was not the least glimmering of light in any direction; and the longer he thought, the more he was perplexed. The only bearable conclusion at which he could arrive was one of very equivocal consolation; namely, it was possible that things might not be quite so bad as they had been represented. Not long had he been alone, before his solitude was invaded by Lord Martindale. “Philip,” said his lordship, “you look grave this morning. Has any thing occurred to disturb you?” Philip made an abortive attempt to put on a look of cheerfulness, as he replied to his question: “You would not wish, sir, that I should never look grave. Perhaps, sir, I may have lost my heart.” His lordship looked grave in his turn, and very solemnly said: “Ah! you are not serious! To whom, I beg to know, have you lost your heart? This is an affair on which I should have been consulted.” “I do not say positively that I have lost my heart,” replied Philip, “I was speaking hypothetically.” “Hypothetically?” echoed his lordship; “well then let me know who it is, or may be, that has had such power over your mind, or that may be supposed capable of making so great a conquest.”