A Relative.

Claim’d kindred there, and had his claims allow’d.

Deserted¹ Village.

Starting at the unexpected and undesired apparition² which presented itself, in the manner described at the end of the last chapter, Mowbray yet felt, at the same time, a kind of relief, that his meeting with Lord Etherington, painfully decisive as that meeting must be, was for a time suspended. So it was with a mixture of peevishness⁴ and internal satisfaction, that he demanded what had procured⁵ him the honour of a visit from Mr. Touchwood at this late hour.

“Necessity, that makes the old wife trot,” replied Touchwood; “no choice of mine, I assure you — Gad⁷, Mr. Mowbray, I would rather have crossed Saint Gothard, than run the risk I have done to-night, rumbling⁸ through your breakneck roads in that d —— d old wheelbarrow. — On my word, I believe I must be troublesome to your butler for a draught⁹ of something — I am as thirsty as a coal-heaver that is working by the piece. You have porter, I suppose, or good old Scotch¹⁰ two-penny?”

With a secret execration¹¹ on his visitor’s effrontery¹², Mr. Mowbray ordered the servant to put down wine and water, of which Touchwood mixed a gobletful, and drank it off.

“We are a small family,” said his entertainer; “and I am seldom at home — still more seldom receive guests, when I chance to be here — I am sorry I have no malt liquor, if you prefer it.”

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