She paused, 'tis true, but it was only to subdue the feelings of anguish rising in her heart, as well as to gain breath to proceed. "Louis de St. Germain's still remained an inmate of our house; he was in too precarious a state to be removed, and my honest hearted parent saw nothing wrong in leaving him to the charge of so young an hostess; even had he, I much doubt if his generous feelings would have led him to adopt any other course. His absence was rather a long one; and when he returned he found his guest convalescent, but unwilling to leave the hospitable roof that had so kindly sheltered him. My father smiled-he guessed the truth; we had learnt to love each other. St. Germain's avowed it, and my indulgent parent gave his consent to our union, though prudence, in a more worldly mind, would have dictated a different course. Louis de St. Germain's was never communicative respecting his family; yet, blinded as I was by love, I thought there was too much reserve on his part. He stated his fortune to be very limited, arising from a small estate he possessed in the south of France, and that he had little or no expectation of ever inheriting more, as he had displeased his family by joining Napoleon's army. With this half confidence the unsuspicious mind of my father was completely satisfied; and as he considered the fortune Louis stated he possessed adequate to moderate wants and wishes, he was delighted at the prospect of happiness held out to me-for Louis had completely gained his affection and confidence. We were married, and continued to reside with my father, happy in each other, and regardless of what was passing in the world around us. Alas! how brief was the sunshine! Four months after our marriage Louis began to grow dispirited and restless, talked of bettering his fortune, and blamed his own supineness in not asserting his rights. What these rights were I never clearly understood. At length he set off for Paris, promising to stay but a month. Three passed and he came not, but his letters were frequent and kind; he hinted at success, at good news that would surprise me, and I lived on in hope. Alas! the destruction of this last failing of man's earthly support was at hand. The first blow was given in the sudden death of my beloved father; his decease was occasioned by the wound in his side, which had never properly healed, and which at times gave him great uneasiness; the ball was pronounced to be still in the body, and it was deemed necessary to extract it. Alas! the operation cost him his life. Overwhelmed with affliction, I wrote to beseech my husband to return immediately; but nearly two dreary months elapsed ere he arrived. He did, however, come at last, and my heart forgot to chide in the fulness of its joy at beholding him. He accounted for his apparent neglect by stating that his affairs unexpectedly compelled him to pass over to England, and that not expecting to be detained so long, he had given no orders for his letters to be forwarded. Alas! the subterfuge blinded me then-it could not afterwards. Each day he grew more listless and reserved; each day the dreadful thought that he had ceased to love me grew stronger. I tried to persuade myself that it was my fault, that the bereavement of my dear parent, which still oppressed my spirits, and which at times still brought tears to my eyes, rendered me a dull companion, and made him weary of his monotonous home; and then I strove to appear as cheerful as wont. I forbore to alluding to the subject of my deep affliction; but all my efforts were unavailing, and anguish, such as the heart of man cannot conceive, took possession of my soul. Still I concealed it, and tried to smile on, but it was impossible-I could only refrain from reproach. One day, one dreadful day, he left his home for the purpose, as I imagined, of strolling into the country. Evening came on; anxiously and im patiently I listened to catch the sound of his foot. steps; I had to communicate that which filled my own breast with joy, and which I hoped might bring back his truant affection. Alas! night succeeded to evening, and morning to night, and he came not. Oh, my son !'-she paused and clasped her attenuated hands together; the anguish she had then endured for a moment rived her heart with a pang as keen as though the reality and not the remembrance only had been renewed. "Arundel pressed his burning lips to her brow in silent commiseration, and a long pause ensued. His suffering mother, relieved by a few tears which rolled slowly down her cheeks, at length proceeded, with out solicitation on his part. The noon came, and a respectable tradesman, with whom we were in the habit of dealing, left a small packet for me, which he said had been entrusted to him by M. de St. Ger main's. I heard the words-I flew wildly into the passage, snatched the letter from the servant's band, and with a seared brain read these lines.' She presented the worn fragments of a letter to her son, who read as follows: 666 'Catherine, 'tis useless to dissemble; I love you no longer. Your presence, your affection irritate my feelings to a degree that would in the end bring on madness. I leave you for ever. The enclosed post-bills to the amount of three hundred pounds are for your present use. Forget me; 'twill best ensure your happiness, and that of 66 LOUIS DE ST. GERMAIN'S.' "Inhuman wretch!' exclaimed Arundel, pas sionately tearing the letter to pieces, and stamping on the fragments. May the curse of Heaven-"My son, my son!' ejaculated his mother with dismay, placing her finger hurriedly on his lips, 'he is thy father!' "Arundel sank back in his seat with a moan. The curse was still at his heart, but he dared not give it utterance now. His unfortunate mother seemed at a loss how to proceed; there could no longer be any reservation on her part, and yet she trembled to awaken further the sensibilities-the just indignation of her son. "And what did you do, my poor mother? what steps did you take?' asked Arundel, at length, no longer able to restrain his impatient desire to know all. "I wrote to him at his former address in Paris, but never obtained an answer; at last I received a letter, enclosing a draught on a banker at Bruges for five hundred pounds. It was written as if from an attorney, who stated that the sum forwarded was a dying bequest from the late Louis de St. Germain's. I instantly discharged the servants, gave up my house at Brussels, and set off for the French capital, with the intention of making personal application at the house to which I had directed my letters to my hus band, and from whence the attorney's letter was also dated. Here, too, I was foiled. I went instantly to the Rue de la P- and when I arrived there a heap of rubbish only met my eye; the whole range of houses on that side of the street had been pulled down to give place to some new erection. My in. quiries respecting the former inhabitants of the house I came to seek, were also fruitless. How gladly would I have laid me down to die! but Heaven had not so ordained. The prayer, too, was impions for thou, my Arundel, had not then seen the light. and HE who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb' revived in my bosom the spark of joy which had been so cruelly, so suddenly extinguished. I again looked forward to the bliss of being a mother; I wished that my child should draw his first breath in the land of my forefathers, and I accordingly left Paris for Londou. Four months afterwards Heaven gave thee to me, and a most precious treasure hast thou been.' Arundel threw himself upon his mother's bosom ; his young heart was overflowing with love for her, and anguish for her sufferings. He sobbed like a child, and the meek sufferer, while she felt his warm tears on her cheek, rejoiced that his feelings of wrath and indignation had thus yielded to those more congenial to his nature, more favourable to her designs for the future. She allowed him full indulgence of this burst of emotion, and he was himself the first to speak. "And he, the depraved-the heartless one! who heaped all this suffering on your head, tell me, my mother, is he Count Louis de Noirmont ?' "Ere his mother could reply a loud tap was heard at the door, and Arundel moved impatiently towards it to deny the intruder admittance. It was, nevertheless, thrown open by the little serving-maid, who, with much bustle and importance announced The great gentleman, if you please, Ma'am,' and retreated to make way for him on the narrow stairs. "Ha!' exclaimed Arundel, grasping his mother's arm, is he Louis de St. Germain's? is he my father? Tell me, tell me!' His eye flashed, his bosom heaved, his whole frame quivered. Is he? is he?' he repeated wildly. But his hapless mother was incapable of replying, either by word or gesture; and the Count de Noirmont, haggard and trembling, stood in the midst of the apartment, overwhelmed with confusion and shame by the glance of his own child. 'Tis well that guilt should be its own avenger! with a smile I did not at the time quite like-I inquired for Mrs. Bartlett, and was ushered into a drawing-room, which displayed all the elegancies and luxuries that wealth could procure, or taste suggest. Annette was there, reclining on a couch, and her beautiful greyhound crouched beside her. She received me with her wonted grace, but it was evident she did not recognize me: I had given no name to the servant. When I eventually introduced myself she started with surprise, and I thought a shade of confusion passed over her brow, but it was very transitory. The next moment she began to chat and laugh with all the naiveté of her younger years. She was changed in some respects; her complexion had lost some of its exquisiteness, and her form had acquired considerable embonpoint; she was no longer a lovely girl, but a splendid woman. "When something like a pause ensued, I remarked that it had given me much pleasure and surprise when I recognized her in the park, surrounded with all the pomp of wealth; adding, that I trusted the change in her position of life had been productive of happiness to her. "How can it be otherwise?' she said somewhat confusedly; I have all that wealth can procure me, and, in fact, scarcely the trouble of forming a wish; my every want-nay, almost my thoughts are anticipated.' 66 Then you have drawn a prize in the matrimonial lottery,' I rejoined; for riches do not always bring happiness.' "Oh! pray now, my good friend, do not begin to sentimentalize,' interposed Annette. • Remember, five years have passed over our heads since we met. I plead guilty to the folly of sentimentalizing then, but I like realizing better now.' 66 I smiled incredulously, and subjoined, 'Ah, is it really so? Then I hope five years, which have done so much for you, will have also been sufficient "The silence that followed was most painful to to cure our friend Stretton of his sentimentality likeall parties. Arundel's quivering lips at lengthwise-or rather of his sentimental love for you, or I yielded obedience to the violent efforts he made to fear the loss of you must have turned his sentimenspeak, though the sounds they emitted were grating talizing to misanthropizing.' and husky, and his calmness had something unnatural and startling in it. "Count de Noirmont,' he said, 'to you I repeat my question. Are you Louis de St. Germain's? the heartless and worthless husband of the wronged and patient sufferer now before you?' "I am,' exclaimed the Count, in the tone and with the manner of the wretched culprit who sees it is useless to deny his crime, and pleads guilty.' "And you could revel in your wealth, your grandeur-you could smile in your iniquity-you could yield your heart up to pleasure, whilst she, your innocent wife, borne down by sorrow, suffering, and want, deserted and unknown, struggled with a pitiless world, and by the sweat of her gentle brow earned a scanty subsistence for herself and her child; you could do this, and call yourself MAN?'"' "I watched her narrowly as I spoke, and the effect produced by the mention of his name was too slight to soften the harsh opinion I had formed of her heart. Her voice, however, was not so clear and rapid as wont, when she inquired if I had heard or seen anything of him lately. Ere I could reply, a thundering rap was heard at the door, which brought the blood mantling to her neck and brow, and made her start up from the sofa. "He will not like it! Say you are a relationhave brought a letter from my father,' she ejaculated rapidly, and with a look of extreme terror. The door opened, and the servant announced Colonel Stretton.' "Annette sank down on the sofa, gasping for breath. I could bear suspense no longer,' he exclaimed, as if in reply to my reproving look; and seizing the hand of the half-fainting Annette, he pressed it to his lips with a fervency of affection, which neither time nor her faithlessness had been able to weaken. She made a violent effort to withdraw it, and half averting her face, said, in an unsteady voice, "I cannot permit this, Colonel Stretton: we meet on terms quite different to those on which we parted. You are doubtless informed that —' "That they have sacrificed-sold you for base gold!' he interrupted; 'forced you to marry a man you did not, could not love; for, Annette, have you not again and again vowed your heart could never be estranged from me?' "Indeed, indeed—I was young then-I hoped you had forgotten all this long ago.' "Forgotten?' said Stretton, solemnly; these are things one never forgets. Annette, I have loved better than you, or my memory is more faithful than yours.' "It may be so,' said Annette with some confusion, it may be so; and it grieves me that it should. It is better to forget that which is unpleasant to remember." the night, and is surprised to find it lit up, and shouts of carousing at every moment breaking on his ear: Antonio and Inez, should they have already arrived, "Wishing to enter the house unnoticed by Don in order to obtain the co-operation of the domestics in the little plot he had to carry out, Fernandez made his way round to the back of the dwelling, intending to arouse them, should they not be already risen: this he doubted, as the sun had not yet appeared above the horizon. Great, therefore, was his astonishment on nearing the premises, to see a blaze of "And is the remembrance of my affection unpleasant to you?' asked Stretton, with ill-smothered emotion. Have you voluntarily sacrificed your-light from nearly all the windows-to hear the sounds self to -' I will not leave you, by heavens! I will not, till all my doubts are set at rest,' he burst forth passionately. You were my affianced wife, and I have a right to demand an account of your actions!' Not now, not now,' said Annette in alarm, but with the evident wish of soothing him; not now. If you have ever loved me, Stretton, leave me: the consequences would be dreadful if he found you here.' "He replied Stretton passionately; Who?' Your husband? Speak!' "Leave me, for Heaven's sake! leave me,' was all she could reply; and she buried her face in the richly embroidered cushions on which her arm had been carelessly thrown.' "I will leave you,' answered Stretton, upon the condition that you promise to let me see you again.' "I promise, if you depart on the instant.' "And when will you see me?' asked Stretton, in a husky voice. "To-morrow, at four.' "You solemnly promise, Annette ?' "Solemnly,' she answered, with emotion. "I watched all these proceedings with intense anxiety; I saw that my friend stood on the brink of a precipice, and I resolved to make an effort to snatch him from it. I therefore drew him aside, and whispered in his ear-Stretton, this is very foolish; trust me it is better that this should be your first meeting and your last. I see it at a glance; she is unworthy of you-she is lost!' ""Tis false!' he exclaimed aloud, false as Annette, speak! have not holy rites sanctioned your present bonds?' Speak!' "The misguided woman unburied her face; it was crimson with shame or emotion. She seemed about to speak; her lips parted, yet no sound seemed tcproceed from them, and covering her face with her handkerchief, she darted from the room." of voices in boisterous and unseemly merriment, ever instruments, and the unmelodious tones of voices and anon drowned by the discordant notes of wind joining in bacchanalian choruses. Dismay succeeded to astonishment when he entered through the unclosed doors, and beheld an assembly of ferocious and besotted beings of both sexes assembled round a table, on which wines and fruits, served in silver, kind; others, who had satiated their appetites, remingled confusedly with meats and drinks of a grosser clining on chairs and couches covered with rich velvets and glittering with embroideries of gold, contrasting most oddly with the soiled and tattered gar and universal shout of laughter greeted the appear. ments which came in contact with them. A loud ance of Fernandez, who, as if spell-bound, stood just within the door, staring on them with indescribable looks of disgust and terror. "Sia il ben arrivato, Signor Cavaliero,' ex claimed one of the wretches, who seemed to have constituted himself master of the ceremonies. 'Sia il ben venuto; forse le do permissione di godere di tanza per tutti quei che la peste risparmiera per suoi proprii possessioni. Poco n'importa. Ce abbas goderne! Sia erede ô nô; sia il ben venuto.' "Birbanti!' began Fernandez; but the same speaker interrupted him. chi sta padrone di casa; se non possa trattarci da "Suffocated with the emotions of disgust and grief, which the speech and manner of this hardened wretch still more powerfully aroused, Fernandez could not give utterance to words, and with a shud. he might meet with some of the domestics in whose der retreated, hoping that by searching the premises charge the house had been left, and from them learn whether the Chancellor had arrived, and, like himself, found it in possessson of the vile band who now revelled in this favourite retreat." The beauties of the work are many, and the faults few, and even those none of them glaring; in short, it is a work well adapted to while away an hour most pleasantly and profitably, the tales being invariably historical. (Burns.) "The High Chancellor" is perhaps the most spirited of the compositions before us, and the scene in which it is laid is one of the most thrilling interest, viz., in 1628, when Milan was devastated by famine and plague. The excesses BURNS' FIRESIDE LIBRARY. of the half frantic inhabitants are described with We have often had occasion to notice, in terms a powerful and masterly hand. Not contented of commendation, this very delightful and wonwith ransacking all possible parts of the city, derfully cheap work. Four more numbers are they have extended their ravages to the out- before us, which equal in point of merit and imskirts, even seizing on the country house of the portance any which have gone before. One high chancellor, Fernandez having appointed to charming volume comprises the lives of King meet the chancellor and his daughter there, in Alfred, Sir Thomas More, and Evelyn. Another order to remove her from the devastating in-is composed of a most judicious selection of fluence of the plague, arrives at the house during "German Ballads, Songs, &c.," able transla tions from favourite authors, with a few original pieces on German subjects, after the German manner, conveying altogether an admirable idea of the lyrics of the people. "Musens' Popular Tales" will delight the lovers of the wonderful, and "Liesli," a Swiss story, will find favour with readers of a simpler taste. A great merit of "The Fireside Library" is, that each cheap volume is complete in itself, the price appearing to depend on the bulk and quantity of matter. These books are, as our readers are aware, all beautifully illustrated. MUSIC. How's ILLUSTRATED BOOK OF BRITISH SONG. Parts 5 and 6.-The latter numbers of this charming work fully maintain the high and interesting character awarded to it on the apand talented editor, Mr. Hogarth, are rendering of the earlier ones. pearance The publisher, a service to the public far beyond any which is to be computed by the vulgar reckoning of pounds, shillings, and pence, in thus bringing before them the works of the immortal masters, whom a vitiated taste in music has of late years thrown too much in the back-ground-Purcell, Arne, Handel, Jackson, and the worthy band here associated with them, in whose compositions dwell the soul, sentiment, and intellect of music, and who would have scorned to lend their powers to the mere trickery of art, and the sound miscalled music, which only appeals to the senses. What a large proportion of people and the largest in the most intellectual society STEILL'S ROYAL PICTORIAL TOY BOOKSOUTLINE OF ENGLISH GRAMMAR. (Steill, Paternoster-row.)-A most admirable little book, intended to facilitate the acquirement of that which is usually the driest and least interesting of studies to children. We say usually, not always, for we believe grammar may be made pleasing if not absolutely amusing to very young pupils, when, as in the present aptly named-really love an old English ballad better than "toy-book," the understanding is appealed to, and curiosity excited, instead of a mere effort of memory being demanded. TWEDDELL'S YORKSHIRE MISCELLANY. (Miller, London; Tweddell, Stokesley.)-This is a highly creditable quarterly Miscellany, which we ought to have noticed some time ago, since several numbers are before us. Provincial periodicals have always a peculiar interest; a careful examination of them seldom fails to make a correct impression of the state of mind among those they represent. "Tweddell's Yorkshire Miscellany" is entitled to hold up its head among the highest of its contemporaries; and our readers will not doubt us when we mention among the contributors, Bernard Barton, Charles Swain, W. G. J. Barker, Spencer Hall, Bolton Rogerson, &c., &c. any other description of music whatsoever! We say old, because it is so very seldom we meet a tolerable new one; and when we say English we must take Paddy's privilege, and include Scotch and Irish. Why do not this large body boldly own their preference, instead of whispering it as something they are ashamed of? We cannot enumerate a tithe of the old favourites which such lovers of music will find in this delightful publication, from "Black-eyed Susan," " Crazy Jane," and "Cease your funning," to "Where the bee sucks" and "Come unto these yellow sands." Nearly a dozen are included in each part; the part, richly illustrated as it is by wood engravings, with gilt leaves and tasteful cover, and enriched by numerous anecdotes and biographical notes, costing but a fraction more than a common song, published in an ordinary manner. AMUSEMENTS The theatrical amusements of the metropolis have, for the most part, during the past month, assumed a decided coma, as far as the musical attractions are concerned; a few have been in a sleep-waking state (as the Mesmerists say), and one or two only "wide awake." HER MAJESTY'S THEATRE is no longer thronged with the gay and the beautiful, but a silence, more solemn than that attending the thrilling cadence of some richly gifted voice, has usurped its place: no longer the bursts of rapturous applause, wreaths, bouquets, gifts to some fair favourite, are there dispensed; the reign of the bright danseuses is at an end, and all "Like birds of passage to a sunnier clime, Have wing'd them to return perchance no more." COVENT GARDEN wise," and doubtless is "to let," though the they are not far wrong in their conjecture, assert, that Monsieur Jullien has engaged it for promenade concerts, but not till late in the geason. If conducted with the same good taste and judgment as formerly, these concerts, offering as they have done, and we hope long will do, good music at a reasonable rate, are sure of proving far from the least attraction of the approaching winter season. DRURY-LANE, under the auspices of the most indefatigable of managers, Mr. Bunn, will have resumed its glories, but too late for notice this month. That Mr. Bunn has been anything but idle Power, in the piece called The Irish Lion. The following is the plot :-Mr. Lacey (Mr. Hudson), an actor, is bent on hoaxing his female acquaintance by introducing Mr. Peter Redwing (Mr. Buckstone), a retired tradesman, residing at Hammersmith, as the identical Mr. Alexander Pope. Redwing consents, and prepares, as do also the ladies, all bent on producing an im pression on the gifted poet. Mrs. Breval (Miss P. Horton) and her country sister, Miss Jenny Gillett (Miss Julia Bennet), are in extasies at the approaching interview, for which headdresses are arranged, and dresses designed with truly feminine assiduity. Miss Jenny is well nigh mad with the idea of visiting the great Pope in a new cardinal. All is excitement, conjecture, pleasure, and anticipation, when Redwing is announced, and enters in an elaborate wig and corresponding costume. He is expected by the ladies to be eccentric in the extreme; in short, to " speak in measure as he writes;" absurdity and vulgarity are wilfully lost by them, under the idea that such are the land-marks in him of genius and wit. The scene of the "Rape of the Lock" is enacted, and produces much uproarious applause, as Mr. Redwing, armed with a pair of tailor's shears, proceeds to release a few locks from the coiffures of the ladies. Further, to keep up the joke, Lacey proposes that the ladies shall be invited to Redwing's house at Hammersmith, which is to pass off as Pope's villa; this agreed upon, Mr. Redwing takes leave; but, in the mean time, Matt Concanon (Mr. Tilbury), a party writer, introduced as a target for the poet's shafts, has engaged a party of chairmen to waylay Mr. Pope, and Redwing, the False Mr. Pope, is carried off, spite of his being a churchwarden, with a due during the recess will appear in the strength of apparent in this production; and the mind will talent he has secured for this theatre. Mr. W. recur to the glorious impersonation of the Irish Harrison, Mr. Allen, Mr. Barker, Mr. H. Phil-bard, the author of "Lalla Rookh," by Tyrone lips, Mr. D. W. King, Mr. Weiss, Mr. Burdini, Mr. Borrani, and a debutante, whose name does not yet appear, are engaged. The ladies include Mademoiselle Jenny Lind, who is at this moment setting Germany in a perfect torrent of excitement, Madame Anna Thillon, Miss Romer, Miss Rainforth, Miss Poole, and Miss Helen Lane. Schira conducts the orchestra, which also promises to be very efficient. For the ballet department Mr. Bunn has catered to a nicety, as regards the variety of style selected; Dumilatre heads the list; a Mademoiselle Flora Fabbri, with whose powers we are unacquainted, is also named; Adele Plunket and Louise are among the number, and well known to a London audience. Juliette Potier and Henriette Guerinot form part of the attractions promised, as also Mademoiselle Camille, a young lady, who about three years since bid fair to excel in the dexterities of her art. Petipa, Albert, Desplaces, Barrez, Pilcher, and Delferier, are numbered with the male dancers. The novelties will consist of an opera by Mr. Vincent Wallace, a pianist known in the concert-room during the latter part of the foregone season, and a grand opera by Mr. Benedict. To crown all, " arrangements are on the point of completion, and treaties pending," for an opera by Donizetti, and the Camp of Silesia, by Meyerbeer. A ballet, composed expressly for this theatre by Adolphe Adam, is positively announced, as also the last Parisian "hit," Le Diable à Quatre. Mr. Risley and his sons, who will be remembered as having before exhibited their feats on the London boards, are, we understand, engaged on the score that variety is pleasing? The season will begin with the two favourite operas of the past season, The Peri and The Enchantress; in the latter Miss Rainforth is to take the role, sup-quantum of pride to boot; and amidst the ported as last year by Madame Thillon. Although we are not of opinion that the manager of this theatre proceeds on the best principle, we heartily wish him the success his exertions so well deserve; there is one and a great redeeming point in his endeavours, and that is, he supports NATIVE TALENT. We now proceed to glance at the efforts of the theatres now open; their endeavours have been great, and by continued novelty they have secured crowded houses, at a time of year when the theatres are usually almost entirely deserted. THE HAYMARKET. The greatest attraction here has been the production of a new piece by Mr. R. B. Peake; the thought is not altogether an original one, for David Garrick, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Thomas Moore, and others whose names we cannot at the moment recall, have served as the heroes simulated. The title of this piece, False Mr. Pope, at once lets out the secret, and weakens the interest of the hoax, which is also materially diminished by the want of action, so wofully shrieks of the ladies, the shouts of the sedanocracy, clashing of swords, &c., &c., the first act closes; in the second, the unfortunate Redwing is discovered with a cranium plastered all over from the effects of the encounter. It hap pens most unfortunately that Redwing has invited the rector to dine with him, on the very day the ladies are invited. This cannot be helped, a dinner must be provided; a fat pig is prepared for the occasion, with various other delicacies. The ladies arrive; they enter the grounds; but where are the statues, and the far-famed grotto? These difficulties are surmounted by Lacey's informing the disappointed ladies that they have been removed to London to undergo the process of repainting and gilding. The echo is also demanded and supplied by the indefatigable Mr. Lacey. The gentlemen then proceed on an angling excursion, where, in the absence of the False Mr. Pope, the hoax is explained by Mrs. Lacey (Mrs. Edwin Yarnold); all is surprise, indignation, and thirsting for revenge. Mrs. Spooner (Mrs. Caulfield), Redwing's housekeeper, is summoned, and a counter joke planned. The pig is disguised as a child, |