CHAPTER IV.
"Most dangerous Is that temptation that does goad us on To sin in loving virtue."-- _Measure for Measure_.
"SEE her to-morrow!--that morrow is come!" thought Maltravers, as he rose the next day from a sleepless couch.

Ere yet he had obeyed the impatient summons of Ferrers, who had thrice sent to say that "_he_ never kept people waiting," his servant entered with a packet from England, that had just arrived by one of those rare couriers who sometimes honour that Naples, which _might_ be so lucrative a mart to English commerce, if Neapolitan kings cared for trade, or English senators for "foreign politics." Letters from stewards and bankers were soon got through; and Maltravers reserved for the last an epistle from Cleveland.

There was much in it that touched him home.

After some dry details about the property to which Maltravers had now succeeded, and some trifling comments upon trifling remarks in Ernest's former letters, Cleveland went on thus: "I confess, my dear Ernest, that I long to welcome you back to England.
You have been abroad long enough to see other countries; do not stay long enough to prefer them to your own.

You are at Naples, too--I tremble for you.