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 at first; but when he had become somewhat reconciled to its brilliancy, he went to the cottage to show the hight there.

He, at that time, had not the slightest knowledge of the fact that the door of the cottage had been found open that very morning; but, when Aunt Eleanor had duly informed him of the circumstance—although he could not help expressing his amazement—he felt highly pleased, seeing that, as it was clear to him that the parties were determined to carry on their game every night, he, without the necessity for sacrificing more than a single night's rest, should be perfectly certain to catch them.

"The fact is," said he, "this must be put a stop to. It cannot be tolerated. It must not be suffered to continue."

"But how, my dear sir?" cried Aunt Eleanor. "How can I prevent its continuance?"

"You cannot," he replied, "but I can; and I will do so, if the scheme which I have conceived meet your approbation."

"My dear sir, whatever you suggest shall be immediately acted upon; gratefully will I adopt any suggestion which may be calculated to relieve me from this painful state of suspense."

"Then allow me, this night, to sit here," said her reverend friend; "here, in this room: take no notice of the arrangement; retire as usual, send the servants to bed, and then leave the rest to me."

"But, my dear sir; oh, but I cannot think for a moment of allowing you to sit up."

"Why not, my dear madam; why not?"

"Oh, it would be so extremely inconsiderate of me to tax your kindness to such an extent."

"My dear madam, you do not tax my kindness—if kindness it may be called—the suggestion is mine, not yours."

"Of course I feel extremely grateful; but you do not think of sitting up alone."

"Let me sit up with you, Mr. Rouse," said Sylvester; "we shall catch them: and when we do, they ought to be punished severely."

"But have you," said Aunt Eleanor, "have you, my dear, sufficient strength to sit up?"

"Oh, quite," replied Sylvester: "sitting up is nothing."

"But it will not be well for you to do so," said the reverend gentleman. "The primary object is to make every thing appear as if no preparation for a discovery had been made."

"Well, it need not appear," returned Sylvester; "I can go into my bedroom, and then come down softly again; and then you and I can have a game of chess to keep us awake. I should enjoy it. It will be so very dull for you to sit here alone. Do let me sit up with you?"

"I fear," said the reverend gentleman, "that it will tend to defeat the object in view."

"Then let Judkins sit up," said Aunt Eleanor; "he can be in the little room adjoining."

"My dear madam, the character of Judkins is still in—if I may so term it—the purgatory of suspicion: it has to be either vindicated clearly or condemned. Against his sitting up with me, I therefore protest."