When, at their usual early hour, the rest of the family retired to sleep, Percival remained in the drawing-room to write again, and at length, to Lady Mary and Captain Greville. While thus engaged, his valet entered to say that Beck, who had been out since the early morning, in search of a horse that had strayed from one of the pastures, had just returned with the animal, who had wandered nearly as far as Southampton.
"I am glad to hear it," said Percival, abstractedly, and continuing his letter.
The valet still lingered. Percival looked up in surprise. "If you please, sir, you said you particularly wished to see Beck when he came back."
"I—oh, true! Tell him to wait; I will speak to him by and by. You need not sit up for me; let Beck attend to the bell."
The valet withdrew. Percival continued his letter, and filled page after page and sheet after sheet; and when at length the letters, not containing a tithe of what he wished to convey, were brought to a close, he fell into a revery that lasted till the candles burned low, and the clock from the turret tolled one. Starting up in surprise at the lapse of time, Percival then, for the first time, remembered Beck, and rang the bell.
The ci-devant sweeper, in his smart livery, appeared at the door.
"Beck, my poor fellow, I am ashamed to have kept you waiting so long; but
I received a letter this morning which relates to you. Let me see,—I
left it in my study upstairs. Ah, you'll never find the way; follow me,-
-I have some questions to put to you."
"Nothin' agin my carakter, I hopes, your honour," said Beck, timidly.
"Oh, no!"
"Noos of the mattris, then?" exclaimed Beck, joyfully.