Suddenly my host interrupted me.--“Creation of the fancy! No, no, boy; all sad--sad reality! Oh, Heaven, that the scene were indeed imaginary!”--and, apparently overcome with some fearful recollection, he turned his face towards the fire, and I could observe a convulsive shudder creep over him as he writhed in silent agony. I was dreadfully mortified at the misery which my folly had occasioned, and determined at once to quit a house in which my visit had proved so mischievous. I went forward, and took Mr. Hartley’s hand. “Can you pardon a stupid impertinence of mine, which has unhappily recalled afflicting recollections? When I am gone, excuse my imprudence to your daughter, and assure her how sincerely I repent my folly. And now, farewell, sir,--I feel myself an unwelcome visitor, and will relieve you of my presence.” I made a movement towards the door; but my host waved his hand as if to detain me-- “Stop,” said lie; “it is nearly midnight, and the first place where you could obtain a lodging is ten miles distant.” “I have walked twenty before now,” I replied, “to shoot a dozen snipes.” “The road is bad and difficult to find,” rejoined Mr. Hartley. “I can rouse a peasant on the way side, and he will guide me.” “It is dangerous, besides,” added he; “a murder was committed there but lately.” “No matter,” I returned; “I have little indeed to lose.” “You put your trust in honest Juvenal,” said he, with a faint smile. “‘Cantabit vacuus’--it is a good adage; no security better against robbery than an empty pocket. But they may knock you on the head, and discover when too late--that you are not a gauger;” and he gave me a side look, to see what effect the allusion had. “Faith, sir,” I returned, “I trust that that mistake shall not occur a second time, although to it I owe the pleasure of your acquaintance.” “Indeed?” said Mr. Hartley, with real or simulated surprise. “It is true, sir,” I replied. “Well, then, sit down and tell me the adventure. Come, my dear boy,” he added, in tones so soft, so kind, that I was amazed at the sudden transition from anger to urbanity; “all is over and forgotten. I will make your peace with Isidora in the morning, and your penalty shall be--a short lecture and another bottle. You are young--your foot has only touched the threshold of the stage of life--at your age one sees only the sun-streak in the sky, but never looks for the cloudbank that lies behind it. What you to-night intended in idle compliment, exploded a hidden mine that all but wrecked our friendship in its very opening. Be advised by one who knows the world, or ought to know it: restrain curiosity in all that concerns another; and know men well, before you pry into their secrets. At the conclusion of this lecture my host took a flask of Burgundy from the sideboard, extracted the cork, and down we sate _tête-à-tête_ again; and, at his desire, I narrated my evening encounter with the smugglers.