'A lodger in this house, Sir,' answered his lordship, 'and your best friend, as I trust you will acknowledge hereafter. I became acquainted with this lady at the table of our hostess, and learned from her, that she had left your house in disgust. Yesterday morning, on entering her apartment, to make my respects, I found an old gentleman there, one Doctor Merrick, whom I recognized as a wretch of infamous character; tried twice for shoplifting, and once for having swindled the Spanish ambassador out of a golden snuff-box. I, though an humble individual, yet being well acquainted with this young lady's high respectability, presumed to warn her against such a dangerous companion; when I found, to my great concern, that she had already promised him her hand in marriage.' Wilkinson groaned: I stared. 'On being apprised of his character,' continued Montmorenci, 'the young lady was willing enough to drop the connection, but unfortunately, the ruffian had previously procured a written promise of marriage from her, which he now refuses to surrender; and at the moment you came, I was consulting with your daughter what was best to be done.' 'Lead me to him!' cried Wilkinson, 'lead me to the villain this instant, and I will shew you what is best to be done!' 'I have appointed an interview with him, about this time,' said his lordship, 'and as your feelings might probably prompt you to too much warmth, perhaps you had better not accompany me; but should I fail in persuading him to deliver up the fatal paper, you shall then see him yourself.' 'You are a fine fellow!' cried the farmer, shaking his hand, 'and have bound me to you for ever.' 'I will hasten to him now,' said his lordship, and casting a significant glance at me, departed; leaving me quite astonished, both at his story, and his motive for fabricating it. It was, however, my business to support the deception. Wilkinson then told me that he discovered my place of residence in London, from the discharged Butler, who, it seems, is not your son, but your lover; and to whom you have shewn all my letters. He went to Wilkinson, and made the disclosure for forty guineas. Sordid wretch! and Wilkinson says that he wants to marry you, merely for the sake of your annuity. Biddy, Biddy! had you known as much of the world as I do now, a fortune hunter would not have imposed upon you. As to your shewing him my letters, I cannot well blame you for a breach of trust, which has answered the purpose of involving my life in a more complicated labyrinth of entanglements. But to return. In the midst of our conversation, the maid brought me a note. It was from Montmorenci, and as follows: