This narrative produced, as may be supposed, an extraordinary sensation amongst the saints gathered together on this occasion. And no wonder! Was it, then, all a fabrication relative to Mr. Sheepshanks' visit to the South Sea Islands? Had he never proceeded farther than Cherbourg? were the funds of the Society lavished in riotous living and on a mistress? was it the better to carry out the deception that he had pretended to sail in a French ship, instead of an English one? was he, in a word, an unmitigated impostor? and were all the members of the Society his dupes? These opinions seemed to be confirmed, when the Reverend Mr. Sawkins came back with the astounding intelligence that Mr. Sheepshanks was nowhere to be found in any part of the Society's offices. Mrs. Slingsby was overwhelmed with grief, and her two fair companions with astonishment; and as they rode home in a hackney-coach, the pious widow never ceased from dilating on the tremendous injury which the "good cause" would receive from the exposure of the flagrant turpitude of Mr. Sheepshanks. CHAPTER XXXVI. THE BARONET AND HIS MISTRESS. On the following day—at about twelve o'clock, and somewhat to the surprise of Mrs. Slingsby, who did not expect to see him so soon again—Sir Henry Courtenay paid the lady a visit. She happened to be alone when he was announced; and there was a constraint—amounting almost to an embarrassment—in his manner which she immediately perceived, and which alarmed her. "Has any thing happened, Henry?" she inquired anxiously, as he took a seat at some distance from her. "Nothing, Martha—nothing," answered the baronet. "But I wish to have some very particular conversation with you." "I am all attention," she said, her suspense increasing. "Now do not be frightened," exclaimed Sir Henry. "Nothing has happened to annoy either you or me; but what I am about to propose to you, is rather of an embarrassing nature—and——" "Then pray be quick and let me know what brings you hither this morning," said the lady, somewhat impatiently. "Have patience!" cried the baronet. "The fact is I have taken a fancy in a certain quarter—and, though I have striven hard to wrestle against it, it is every hour growing more powerful than my opposition." "What _do_ you mean? what _can_ you mean?" asked the widow, completely bewildered. "Why do you receive into your house two young ladies of a beauty so ravishing——" "Henry! is it possible?" exclaimed Mrs. Slingsby, a light suddenly breaking in upon her mind. "It is very possible that I should feel an unconquerable—an invincible passion for Rosamond Torrens," added the baronet, growing bolder now that the ice was fairly broken. "And you tell me this to my face!" murmured the widow, in a hollow tone, while her countenance became purple with a rage which she dared not suffer to explode.