"The most unlimited," he replied, fixing his odious eyes on my face, which I returned by a look of the utmost scorn. "O Lady Stanley," he continued, "do not--do not, I intreat you, use me so hardly. Will you allow me to speak to you alone?" "By no means." "For God's sake do! Your servant shall remain in the next room, within your call. Let me beseech you to place some confidence in me. I have that to relate concerning Sir William, which you would not chuse a domestic should hear. Dearest Lady Stanley, be not inexorable." "You may go into that room, Win," said I, not deigning to answer this importunate man. "My lord," addressing myself to him, "you can have nothing to tell me to which I am a stranger; I know Sir William is totally ruined. This is known to every servant in the house." "Believe me," said he, "the execution is the least part of the evil. That event happens daily among the great people: but there is an affair of another nature, the stain of which can never be wiped off. Sir William, by his necessities, has been plunged into the utmost difficulties, and, to extricate himself, has used some unlawful means; in a word, he has committed a forgery." "Impossible!" cried I, clasping my hands together in agony. "It is too true; Sir George Brudenel has the forged deed now in his hands, and nothing can save him from an ignominious death, but the raising a large sum of money, which is quite out of his power. Indeed, I might with some difficulty assist him." "And will you not step forth to save him?" I asked with precipitation. "What would _you_ do to save him?" he asked in his turn, attempting to take my hand. "Can you ask me such a question? To save his life, what would I not do?" "You have the means in your power." "Oh! name them quickly, and ease my heart of this load of distraction! It is more--much more than I can bear." "Oh my lovely angel!" cried the horrid wretch, "would you but shew some tenderness to me! would you but listen to the most faithful, most enamoured of men, much might be done. You would, by your sweet condescension, bind me for ever to your interest, might I but flatter myself I should share your affection. Would you but give me the slightest mark of it, oh! how blest I should be! Say, my adorable Julia, can I ever hope to touch your heart?" "Wretch!" cried I, "unhand me. How dare you have the insolence to affront me again with the mention of your hateful passion? I believe all you have uttered to be a base falsehood against Sir William. You have taken an opportunity to insult his wife, at a time when you think him too much engaged to seek vengeance; otherwise your coward soul would shrink from the just resentment you ought to expect!" "I am no coward, Madam," he replied, "but in my fears of offending the only woman on whom my soul doats, and the only one whose scorn would wound me. I am not afraid of Sir William's resentment--I act but by his consent." "By his consent!"