Sir Ulick, without ceremony, took the letter, and in a moment satisfying his curiosity that it was merely a friendly note, returned it and the list of his faults to Harry, saying. “If it had been a young lady’s letter, I am sure you would not have shown it to me, Harry, nor, of course, would I have looked at it. But I presumed that a letter from old Lady Annaly could only be, what I see it is, very edifying.” “Old Lady Annaly, is it?” cried Cornelius: “oh! then there’s no indiscretion, young man, in the case. You might as well scruple about your mother’s letter, if you had one; or your mother’s-in-law, which, to be sure, you’ll have, I hope, in due course of nature.” At the sound of the words mother-in-law, a cloud passed over Sir Ulick’s brow, not unnoticed by the shrewd Cornelius; but the cloud passed away quickly, after Sir Ulick had darted another reconnoitring glance on Harry’s open unconscious countenance. “All’s safe,” said Sir Ulick to himself, as he took leave. “_Woodcocked_! that he has--as I foresaw he would,” cried King Corny, the moment his guest had departed. “_Woodcocked_! if ever man did, by all that’s cunning!” CHAPTER VII. King Corny sat for some minutes after Sir Ulick’s departure perfectly still and silent, leaning both hands and his chin on his crutch. Then, looking up at Harry, he exclaimed, “What a dupe you are! but I like you the better for it.” “I am glad you like me the better, at all events,” said Harry; “but I don’t think I am a dupe.” “No--if you _did_, you would not be one: so you don’t see that it was and _is_ Sir Ulick, and not her ladyship, that wanted and wants to get rid of you?” No, Harry did not see this, and would not be persuaded of it. He defended his guardian most warmly; he was certain of Sir Ulick’s affection; he was sure Sir Ulick was incapable of acting with such duplicity. His majesty repeated, at every pause, “You are a dupe; but I like you the better for it. And,” added he, “you don’t--blind buzzard! as your want of conceit makes you, for which I like you the better, too--you don’t see the reason why he banished you from Castle Hermitage--you don’t see that he is jealous of your rivalling that puppy, Marcus, his son.” “Rivalling Marcus in what, or how?” “_With_ whom? boy, is the question you should ask; and in that case the answer is--Dunce, can’t you guess now?--Miss Annaly.” “Miss Annaly!” repeated Harry with genuine surprise, and with a quick sense of inferiority and humiliation. “Oh, sir, you would not be so ill-natured as to make a jest of me!--I know how ignorant, how uninformed, what a raw boy I am. Marcus has been educated like a gentleman.” “More shame for his father that couldn’t do the same by you when he was about it.” “But Marcus, sir--there ought to be a difference--Marcus is heir to a large fortune--I have nothing. Marcus may hope to marry whoever he pleases.”