and Miss Montenero, and challenged any body present to defend them: he knew that several of their acquaintances were in company; but all, seeing that from the combined effects of passion and wine he was not in his senses, suffered him to exhale his fury without interruption or contradiction. Then he suddenly demanded the reason of this silence; and seemingly resolved to force some one into a quarrel, [Footnote: Strange as it may appear, this representation is true.] he began by the gentleman next to him, and said the most offensive and provoking things he could think of to him--and to each in turn; but all laughed, and told him they were determined not to quarrel with him--that he must take four-and-twenty hours to cool before they would take notice of any thing he should say. His creditors did not give him four-and-twenty hours’ time: a servant, before whom he had vented his rage against the Jewess, comprehended that all his hopes of her were over, and gave notice to the creditors, who kept him in their pay for that purpose. Mowbray was obliged the next day to leave town, or to conceal himself in London, to avoid an arrest. I heard no more of him for some time--indeed I made no inquiries. I could have no farther interest concerning a man who had conducted himself so ill. I only rejoiced that he was now out of my way, and that he had by all his treachery, and by all his artifices, given me an opportunity of seeing, more fully tried, the excellent understanding and amiable disposition of Berenice. My passion was now justified by my reason: my hopes were high, not presumptuous--nothing but the difficulty about her religion stood between me and happiness. I was persuaded that the change by which I had been alarmed in Miss Montenero’s manner towards me had arisen only from doubts of my love, or from displeasure at the delay of an explicit declaration of my passion. Determined, at all hazards, now to try my fate, I took my way across the square to Mr. Montenero’s--Across the square?--yes! I certainly took the diagonal of the square. CHAPTER XIV. When I arrived at Mr. Montenero’s I saw the window-shutters closed, and there was an ominous stillness in the area--no one answered to my knock. I knocked louder--I rang impatiently; no footsteps were heard in the hall: I pulled the bell incessantly. During the space of three minutes that I was forced to wait on the steps, I formed a variety of horrid imaginations. At last I heard approaching sounds: an old woman very deliberately opened the door. “Lauk, sir, how you do ring! There’s not a body to be had but me--all the servants is different ways, gone to their friends.” “But Mr. and Miss Montenero--” “Oh! they was off by times this morning--they be gone--” “Gone?” I suppose my look and accent of despair struck the old woman with some pity, for she added, “Lauk, sir, they be only gone for a few days.” I recovered my breath. “And can you, my good lady, tell me where they are gone?”