Next passed Dr Pother in a chaise and pair; and lastly, Dr Sanguine on a nag at full gallop: and thus all immediate fears of the Marquis's demise terminated. One of the grooms now passed airing the horses, and being stopped by the Croakers, gave them the joyful tidings of the Marquis's re

covery.

"I'm glad to hear it," said Jenny Croaker, with a deep groan; "but I'se warrant it's only an aff-put-ilka thing helps-at his time o' life a' thing tells."

The news of the Marquis's recovery was received with satisfaction all over the country, and in Edinburgh, whither Lady Amelia wrote the favourable accounts to inquiring friends; for, as we have already noted, the Marquis had many friends, and no enemies; his constitutional virtues being goodnature, hospitality, and kindness; and his vices, of indolence, idleness, and love of ease, being troublesome to nobody but himself.

CHAPTER XIV.

"Nothing can be great, the contempt of which is great."

DURING all this bustle, and variation from health to sickness at Roe Park, Sir Philip Hum had been in Edinburgh. He had tried every means, and of course the best means, of obtaining a remission of the punishment of William Bell, the guilty and unfortunate brother of Amelia,-and at last succeeded in getting his sentence commuted into fourteen years' banishment to Botany Bay -which was received with joy, as a happy exchange for banishment out of the world.

In one of Amelia Bell's visits to the prison, her attention was arrested at the door of one of the cells, which the jailor was preparing to shut, by the appearance of a boy, whose countenance she recollected somewhere to have seen. The impression was instantaneous, for the door was speedily closed, and she proceeded on to the cell where her brother William was confined. Upon telling the circumstance, and endeavouring to recollect where and

how the face she had seen could have been known to her, in a happy moment memory retraced him with a certitude not to be mistaken, as the pedlar boy who had stolen the golden cup, and caused her so much trouble. She immediately related the circumstance to Mrs Miller, who, without delay, examined into the matter-and found that the boy was already condemned to be transported for other misdemeanours, and that he was actually the same boy who had stolen the cup from Roe Park. When he found that the confessing this additional crime could not in any way affect his present condition, he detailed all the circumstances to herstating, that soon after he had left Roe Park, hearing footsteps behind him, he had been seized with a fit of terror, and passing hastily through a field, he saw a pit, into which he had dropped the cup, where, doubtless, it still might be found.

Mrs Miller wrote all these circumstances to Lady Amelia-and the hope of regaining his cup stimulated the Marquis to follow out the clew the boy had given. Where the field was, was difficult to ascertain ;-there was a field, indeed, which the family generally avoided at untimely hours—it was known by the name of Pitfield. This name was derived from the numerous coal-pits it contained, which had long been abandoned, but which the Marquis had never yet found time to fill up; there

were also rumours that here murders had been committed, and that here shroudless ghosts held their revels; and it was whispered that lights were seen and groans were heard by such hapless wanderers as found themselves near this spot, at that dread hour, when night and morning meet. The more hardy maintained that there was nothing to be dreaded in this field more than in any other of the fields in the neighbourhood, except the danger of falling into the pits. The boy had been circumstantial in his evidence, and corroborated Amelia's story in all its parts-and after a weary search, the cup was found in a pit, as the boy had described it. Amelia's veracity was now as palpable as the duplicity of Howard and Bennet. In vain they attempted to varnish o'er their tale-even Lady Maria Wilde's prejudices gave way, and they were both of them dismissed; while Amelia was filled with delight to find that her comparative innocence was now brought to light, and acknowledged by those who had before disbelieved it. She left her poor brother also elated with joy at his escape from death, and her sorrow at parting from him was mingled with pleasure. She returned to Roe Park full of the praises of Sir Philip Hum; and her heart filled with the warmest gratitude towards that gentleman, which he had so well deserved by his active exertions; Lady Amelia joined

with the grateful girl in ascribing to it as much merit, and even more, than Sir Philip in conscience could think it entitled to. Dr Spleen Harris, of course, was informed, and bestowed upon it the most exaggerated encomiums.

"I assure you," said he, to Lady Amelia, "there are not many men who have as much serious business on hand as Sir Philip Hum, who would have bestowed as much time and trouble as he has done on that fellow Bell, who, after all, would perhaps just as well have been hanged; for I have no doubt he is born to that destiny, and will, ere long, do some deed to merit his fate."

"Let us hope not," said Lady Amelia, “let us hope that the lessons he has now received may be a warning to him in his future life; and good Sir Philip, I dare say, will contrive to visit him, and give him good advice till the period of his transportation arrives."

"Sir Philip Hum visit him!" said Dr Spleen Harris; "I assure you, you mistake Sir Philip's character very much if you expect any such thing; you are rather unreasonable, I think, considering he has already done so much. Rather than have taken half of that trouble, your two brothers-inlaw would have seen him hanged."

"True," said Lady Amelia, "but they do not make the same profession as Sir Philip Hum.