The self-criticism in which the chaplain indulged was, perhaps, affected by the circumstances of his own history. He had strung his argument upon a story of requited but unfortunate love, and had found the tale nearly realized in his attachment to Rose Griffith. Before he was acquainted with the passion, he thought the public were right: when he had lost the mistress of his affections, he thought they were wrong. He confounded his fiction with his fact, and wove them together into a retrospective romance, the scenery of which he was reluctant to divulge. The incident of finding his half-forgotten volume, diverted Polydore's attention from the anxieties of the moment: and we have thought the reader might not be displeased with a similar interval of repose. We must now return to the other personages of our history. CHAPTER X. _Don Pedro._ Officers, what offence have these men done? _Dogberry._ Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth, and lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves. Shakspeare. The answers which the returning fugitives received to their letters during their journey back to London, were ill calculated to restore them to serenity. Helen acknowledged her brother's account of his marriage in a letter, which all her affection could not prevent from betraying her grief; and Polydore Riches, in another, did not attempt to conceal his disapproval and regret. And he communicated to Randolph the information he had received from Mr. Winter that proceedings were already begun to deprive him and his sister of the little personal property which they might fancy was still their own, and that so far the lawyer saw no hope of resisting the attempt with success. On the other hand, Gertrude, seriously alarmed at the state of depression into which Mrs. Pendarrel had fallen, could not help pointing out to her sister the consequences of her imprudence. "Why did you not come to me?" she wrote; "why did you not rely upon the support which I always promised? It might have been only a temporary succour, but time might have done everything. You little think, perhaps, how much distress you have occasioned by your haste."