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A TALE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF

"THE DISCIPLINE OF LIFE," "CLARE ABBEY,"

&c., &c.

"We may accuse our nature, but it is our pleasure; we may pretend
weakness, but it is wilfulness which is the guilty cause of our misde-
meanours; for, by God's help, we may be as good as we please, if we can
please to be good."-BARROW'S SERMONS.

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HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,
SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN,

13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.

1854.

249. W. 558.

M. 8. MYERS, PRINTER,

22, TAVISTOCK STREET, COVENT GARDEN.

EDWARD WILLOUGHBY.

CHAPTER I.

"Fierce passions discompose the mind,
As tempests lash the sea."

COWPER.

Ir must be owned, that to a person of Mr. Molesey's turn of mind, the present was a very interesting occasion. If it is a plea

sure to exercise whatever powers we possess, his powers of extracting information from chance words, looks, and glances, now fully occupied, were bringing him a perfect festival of delight. It was almost too much for

VOL II.

B

him. He could scarcely compose himself so as to order his eyes, ears, and fancy in the most proper and profitable manner. "To make it out," in the course of the evening, was his determination; and again and again he glanced with dismay at the clock, whose needles veering towards the hour of ten, warned him that his opportunities would shortly come to an end.

A few minutes after the close of his conversation with Clare, the tea was brought in, and Sir Hugh desired his daughter to go and make it. When she rose, Mr. Molesey remained at the fireplace. It was the centre of the room, and from thence he could best send forth his glances on their various errands to station themselves as inspectors, that is, on the movements of Sir Hugh, and Edward, and Clare.

A lamp stood on the tea-table; it was at a little distance from the fire, and only a few

people stood about it. When Clare sat down, Edward moved slowly towards her, but before he reached her side, Mr. Grantley had outstripped him; and he paused, uncertain what to do.

Mr. Grantley was surprised and distressed at the paleness of Clare's cheek. He connected her appearance, in some way, with the disturbance of Edward; and knew not what to think. Whatever it was, however, he was anxious to give her the comfort of his sympathy.

"What is the matter with you to-night, my dear Miss Willoughby?" he said. "I know this has been a trying day with you; but I hope you do not mean to take your sister's loss to heart."

Clare almost started to think how, even on the wedding-day, her sister's loss was a feeling gone by, overlaid by the anxieties that had come upon her. It was with B 2

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