“I have a relation in London, who perhaps might enable you to leave the country for a season. It is possible that time might soften your father’s animosity, were you removed beyond his notice; and the violence of his resentment might happily cool down. Here. It is a guinea, and some silver; ’twill carry you to London; and when you get to town, inquire at the Post Office, and you will find an anonymous letter to give you future directions how to act. To save myself from ruin, requires the greatest caution on my part. Push forward to the next village on the London road; and when you have reached the metropolis to-morrow, you will be fully instructed what to do. For Heaven’s sake, stay not another moment!--Steal secretly from the park, as you entered it; and all I can do for you shall be done.” He hastily left me, as if in fear; I heard him bar the private entrance, and observed him close the shutters of his chamber, while I, in a state of humiliation bordering on insensibility, obeyed the order, and, like a felon, stole out of that domain where, two years previously, my will was absolute. I slept at a mean public-house; but what a luxury was a bed to me! and yet the lowliest servant on my father’s establishment would have rejected what his fallen child gratefully received! Next morning I put myself on the roof of a coach which in other days I had frequently driven. Neither guard nor coachman remembered me. Of course, the vulgar scoundrels had heard of my downfall. Well, they only imitated men of better birth! They forgot me when it was convenient. I entered London. It was the anniversary of a victory^ and I remembered it well. Two years before, by a singular coincidence, I had driven in with my own four-in-hand--and as the slang went then, it was “the best appointed drag in England.” Mary Davis was on the box. Ah, two years had made a difference! I was a pauper on a stagecoach--Mary Davis, a wanderer on the streets! A ice, with her, poor girl, commenced in luxury, but to both it brought what it generally does--ruin and disgrace! The paltry supply that Morley had given was half consumed by my journey; and I sought one of the humblest hostleries which London, in its infinity of accommodation, presents. The extent of my degradation had nearly stupified me; but next morning I went to the Postoffice to inquire for the promised communication, scarcely caring whether it arrived or not. The steward, however, had been punctual; and the expected letter was delivered. It was brief--written in a disguised hand--and merely desired me to call at some rascally place in one of the worst localities of the oldest portion of the city.