“Your wife, I suppose, Braintree--” “No, no, not zhe; I zpoke to 'zquire about zhe:--besides, Bob will be vree, and won't zee poor Meg lack pine zhe will--but he can't help that.” “Can I do any thing for you?” inquired Martin. “Not vor I--not vor I,” replied Saul. “I ha' got but a vew words to zay to thee, lad, and I'll zpeak 'em vreely. Peggy yean't your zister, now:--when I be gone, iv you can't do her no good, doan't do her no harm, vor my zake, lad; doan't, pr'ythee now!” “I never will, you may depend, Saul.” “Then God bless thee, and good bye!--Now, Yeabel!” Saul now followed Abel into the Wainscot-room again, and resumed his handcuffs. Old Borfield, who had been roused to unusual energy, and even displayed a portion of that acuteness, for which he had been famed in the county twenty or thirty years before, sank into a doze. Long before he opened his eyes again, Stapleton had received Saul Braintree's confession; which, coupled with other circumstances, while it convicted Saul, clearly exculpated his son from any participation in the offence. The father and son were tried together; the former was found guilty, and the latter acquitted. Saul, however, evaded the execution of the law: a strong fear of death came over him, after his conviction; he made a bold attempt to escape, the particulars of which it would be needless to enumerate; suffice it to say, that he was not only unsuccessful, but perished in a most resolute struggle with some of the gaoler's attendants, who intercepted his progress. Another paragraph will finish our tale. Old Stapleton, who had long been in a declining state, died within a few days after Martin came of age: the young 'squire shortly after sold off his estates, and, as it was confidently said by some, but disbelieved by others, dwelt happy and contented, as it falls to the lot of most men to be, in a distant part of England, with his old nurse under his roof; Robert Braintree, the tenant of a capital farm, within a morning's ride of his mansion: and pretty Peggy his wife. [Illustration: 111] THE SHAM FIGHT. “Well, Jones,--who's gone?--any body?” This was the first question which the excellent hostess of The New Passage Inn put to the waiter, as she descended one morning, rather later than usual, to her breakfast. Jones replied, “Every body's gone, ma'am: two parties, and one single gentleman, went across in the boat, without breakfasting--” “Without breakfasting, Jones! I hope they've taken no offence.” “Oh! no! I'm pretty sure of that, ma'am:--they went away very comfortable, on rum and milk.” “Rum and milk!” “Yes, ma'am; glasses round, with biscuits.” “Oh! well! come!--And how did the ladies in number nine go?”