“Ay, you may laugh,” observed Josiah, “but I am not far astray, for all that. Bless you! trust nothing to appearances. I have known a footpad pass current for a lord; and, for two reasons, I know I’m right about that chap at the Rose and Crown.” “And what may these reasons be?” asked the quarter-master. “First,” replied the lawyer, “he has plenty of money; and second, he has no marks upon his linen. It’s stolen, you may depend upon it, and the initials carefully picked out.” “And how the devil can you know any thing regarding either the contents of his purse or his baggage?” “Ha, ha! leave me to scent out things. I made George Gripp bribe the chambermaid. It cost me two pints of ale and a shilling; but she let the eat out of the bag. They’ll try his portmanteau tomorrow morning, when he goes to the Cliffs. George thinks he has a key at home that will fit the lock exactly.” My father sprang from his chair. “Josh,” he exclaimed, “I have always despised, but never hated you till now. Is there no blush upon your cheek? Look, man, mine is burning! By Heaven! I’ll mar your villany. The stranger shall know all; and if that caitiff ventures--” When the lawyer noticed the unusual warmth of my father, he grew pale. “Softly, softly,” he said, “you are so weak, Dick. You overdose one with that silliness which you call honesty. I was but half jesting. Why should I bother myself about the fellow? But--look to that young lady there!” and with a malignant side-glance at my father and myself, he shuffled through the door-way, muttering and cursing, as was his wont. Whatever the stranger’s secret might have been, it remained at that time undiscovered. In person, he received his letters at the postoffice; and as the patent lock with which his portmanteau was secured resisted all attempts to open it, at the end of a fortnight, the chambermaid might have been a sadder but not a wiser woman. Another year came round; I ripened into womanhood, and early promises of beauty were confirmed. The stranger appeared again, but his coming now was not so startling in effect as formerly. For six months after his departure, Josiah Rawlings had carefully perused the “Hue and Cry,” but found that no highwayman answered the description. Now, mercifully abandoning his charge of felony, the lawyer opined that the stranger had merely bolted from his creditors. He might have also passed the interval in jail; if so, a change of air would be both useful and agreeable. And thus, Josiah accounted as he thought satisfactorily for Seymour’s re-appearance. Our intimacy was renewed. The flattering praises bestowed upon me as a girl, were changed into declarations of passionate attachment; and I returned his love.