"Indeed!" cried Chichester, turning pale: "who could it be?" "Not an officer, I hope?" exclaimed the baronet. "The chimley-sweeps, perhaps," suggested Mr. Talbot. "A person from Mr. Markham," said Diana, seriously. "By his appearance I should conceive him to be the faithful old servant of his family, of whom I have heard him speak." "Whittingham, I'll be bound!" ejaculated Chichester. "And what did he want?" "He brought me a letter from his master," returned Diana. "You may read it, if you please." And she tossed it contemptuously towards Chichester. "Read out," cried Talbot. Mr. Chichester read the letter aloud, as he was requested. "And what makes the young spark write to you in that d----d impudent and familiar style?" demanded the baronet, angrily. [Illustration] "You cannot but admit that his letter is couched in a most friendly manner," said the lady, somewhat bitterly. "Friendly be hanged!" cried the baronet. "I dare say you feel a most profound and sisterly sympathy for the young gaol-bird. After all, your profuse expenditure and extravagance helped to involve me in no end of pecuniary trouble; and I was compelled to have recourse to any means to obtain money. Somebody must suffer;--better Markham than any one of us." "You do well, sir, to reproach me for being the cause of your embarrassments," answered Diana, her countenance becoming almost purple with indignation. "Have I not basely lent these rooms to your purposes, and acted as an attraction to the young men whom you have inveigled here to plunder at cards? I have never forgiven myself for the weakness which prompted me thus far to enter into your schemes. But when you informed me of your plans relative to the forged notes, I protested vehemently against so atrocious a measure. Indeed, had it not been for your solemn assurance that you had abandoned the idea--at all events so far as it concerned Markham--I would have placed him upon his guard--in spite of your threats, your menaces, your remonstrances!" Diana had warmed as she proceeded; and by the time she reached the end of her reply to the baronet's villanous speech, she had worked herself up almost into a fury of rage and indignation. Her bosom heaved convulsively--her eyes dilated; and her lips expressed ineffable scorn. "Perdition!" exclaimed the baronet: "the world is coming to a pretty pass when one's own mistress undertakes to give lessons in morality." "A desperate necessity, sir," retorted Diana, "made me your mistress;--but I would sooner seek an asylum at the workhouse this moment, than become a partner in villany of this stamp." "And, as far as I care," said the baronet, "you may go to the workhouse as soon as you choose." With these words he rose and put on his hat.