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+Project Gutenberg’s Ernest Maltravers, Complete, by Edward Bulwer-Lytton
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Ernest Maltravers, Complete
+
+Author: Edward Bulwer-Lytton
+
+Release Date: March 16, 2009 [EBook #7649]
+Last Updated: August 28, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ERNEST MALTRAVERS, COMPLETE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger and Dagny
+
+
+
+
+
+ERNEST MALTRAVERS
+
+By Edward Bulwer Lytton
+
+(Lord Lytton)
+
+
+
+DEDICATION:
+
+   TO
+   THE GREAT GERMAN PEOPLE,
+   A race of thinkers and of critics;
+   A foreign but familiar audience,
+   Profound in judgment, candid in reproof, generous in appreciation,
+   This work is dedicated
+   By an English Author.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1840.
+
+HOWEVER numerous the works of fiction with which, my dear Reader, I
+have trespassed on your attention, I have published but three, of any
+account, in which the plot has been cast amidst the events, and coloured
+by the manner, of our own times. The first of these, _Pelham_, composed
+when I was little more than a boy, has the faults, and perhaps the
+merits, natural to a very early age,--when the novelty itself of
+life quickens the observation,--when we see distinctly, and represent
+vividly, what lies upon the surface of the world,--and when, half
+sympathising with the follies we satirise, there is a gusto in our
+paintings which atones for their exaggeration. As we grow older we
+observe less, we reflect more; and, like Frankenstein, we dissect in
+order to create.
+
+The second novel of the present day,* which, after an interval of some
+years, I submitted to the world, was one I now, for the first time,
+acknowledge, and which (revised and corrected) will be included in this
+series, viz., _Godolphin_;--a work devoted to a particular portion
+of society, and the development of a peculiar class of character. The
+third, which I now reprint, is _Ernest Maltravers_,** the most mature,
+and, on the whole, the most comprehensive of all that I have hitherto
+written.
+
+* For _The Disowned_ is cast in the time of our grandfathers, and _The
+Pilgrims of the Rhine_ had nothing to do with actual life, and is not,
+therefore, to be called a novel.
+
+** At the date of this preface _Night and Morning_ had not appeared.
+
+For the original idea, which, with humility, I will venture to call the
+philosophical design of a moral education or apprenticeship, I have left
+it easy to be seen that I am indebted to Goethe’s _Wilhelm Meister_.
+But, in _Wilhelm Meister_, the apprenticeship is rather that of
+theoretical art. In the more homely plan that I set before myself, the
+apprenticeship is rather that of practical life. And, with this view,
+it has been especially my study to avoid all those attractions lawful in
+romance, or tales of pure humour or unbridled fancy, attractions
+that, in the language of reviewers, are styled under the head of “most
+striking descriptions,” “scenes of extraordinary power,” etc.; and are
+derived from violent contrasts and exaggerations pushed into caricature.
+It has been my aim to subdue and tone down the persons introduced, and
+the general agencies of the narrative, into the lights and shadows of
+life as it is. I do not mean by “life as it is,” the vulgar and the
+outward life alone, but life in its spiritual and mystic as well as
+its more visible and fleshly characteristics. The idea of not only
+describing, but developing character under the ripening influences
+of time and circumstance, is not confined to the apprenticeship of
+Maltravers alone, but pervades the progress of Cesarini, Ferrers, and
+Alice Darvil.
+
+The original conception of Alice is taken from real life--from a person
+I never saw but twice, and then she was no longer young--but whose
+history made on me a deep impression. Her early ignorance and home--her
+first love--the strange and affecting fidelity that she maintained, in
+spite of new ties--her final re-meeting, almost in middle-age, with one
+lost and adored almost in childhood--all this, as shown in the novel, is
+but the imperfect transcript of the true adventures of a living woman.
+
+In regard to Maltravers himself, I must own that I have but inadequately
+struggled against the great and obvious difficulty of representing an
+author living in our own times, with whose supposed works or alleged
+genius and those of any one actually existing, the reader can establish
+no identification, and he is therefore either compelled constantly to
+humour the delusion by keeping his imagination on the stretch, or lazily
+driven to confound the Author _in_ the Book with the Author _of_ the
+Book.* But I own, also, I fancied, while aware of this objection, and
+in spite of it, that so much not hitherto said might be conveyed with
+advantage through the lips or in the life of an imaginary writer of
+our own time, that I was contented, on the whole, either to task the
+imagination, or submit to the suspicions of the reader. All that my
+own egotism appropriates in the book are some occasional remarks, the
+natural result of practical experience. With the life or the character,
+the adventures or the humours, the errors or the good qualities, of
+Maltravers himself, I have nothing to do, except as the narrator and
+inventor.
+
+* In some foreign journal I have been much amused by a credulity of this
+latter description, and seen the various adventures of Mr. Maltravers
+gravely appropriated to the embellishment of my own life, including the
+attachment to the original of poor Alice Darvil; who now, by the way,
+must be at least seventy years of age, with a grandchild nearly as old
+as myself.
+
+E. B. L.
+
+
+
+
+A WORD TO THE READER PREFIXED TO THE FIRST EDITION OF 1837.
+
+THOU must not, my old and partial friend, look into this work for
+that species of interest which is drawn from stirring adventures and
+a perpetual variety of incident. To a Novel of the present day are
+necessarily forbidden the animation, the excitement, the bustle, the
+pomp, and the stage effect which History affords to Romance. Whatever
+merits, in thy gentle eyes, _Rienzi_, or _The Last Days of Pompeii_, may
+have possessed, this Tale, if it please thee at all, must owe that happy
+fortune to qualities widely different from those which won thy favour
+to pictures of the Past. Thou must sober down thine imagination,
+and prepare thyself for a story not dedicated to the narrative of
+extraordinary events--nor the elucidation of the characters of great
+men. Though there is scarcely a page in this work episodical to the main
+design, there may be much that may seem to thee wearisome and prolix,
+if thou wilt not lend thyself, in a kindly spirit, and with a generous
+trust, to the guidance of the Author. In the hero of this tale thou wilt
+find neither a majestic demigod, nor a fascinating demon. He is a man
+with the weaknesses derived from humanity, with the strength that
+we inherit from the soul; not often obstinate in error, more often
+irresolute in virtue; sometimes too aspiring, sometimes too despondent;
+influenced by the circumstances to which he yet struggles to be
+superior, and changing in character with the changes of time and fate;
+but never wantonly rejecting those great principles by which alone we
+can work the Science of Life--a desire for the Good, a passion for the
+Honest, a yearning after the True. From such principles, Experience,
+that severe Mentor, teaches us at length the safe and practical
+philosophy which consists of Fortitude to bear, Serenity to enjoy, and
+Faith to look beyond!
+
+It would have led, perhaps, to more striking incidents, and have
+furnished an interest more intense, if I had cast Maltravers, the Man
+of Genius, amidst those fierce but ennobling struggles with poverty and
+want to which genius is so often condemned. But wealth and lassitude
+have their temptations as well as penury and toil. And for the rest--I
+have taken much of my tale and many of my characters from real life, and
+would not unnecessarily seek other fountains when the Well of Truth was
+in my reach.
+
+The Author has said his say, he retreats once more into silence and into
+shade; he leaves you alone with the creations he has called to life--the
+representatives of his emotions and his thoughts--the intermediators
+between the individual and the crowd. Children not of the clay, but of
+the spirit, may they be faithful to their origin!--so should they be
+monitors, not loud but deep, of the world into which they are cast,
+struggling against the obstacles that will beset them, for the heritage
+of their parent--the right to survive the grave!
+
+LONDON, August 12th, 1837.
+
+
+
+
+ERNEST MALTRAVERS.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK I.
+
+ “Youth pastures in a valley of its own:
+  The glare of noon--the rains and winds of heaven
+  Mar not the calm yet virgin of all care.
+  But ever with sweet joys it buildeth up
+  The airy halls of life.”
+    SOPH. _Trachim_. 144-147.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ “My meaning in’t, I protest, was very honest in the behalf of the
+  maid * * * * yet, who would have suspected an ambush where I was
+  taken?”
+    _All’s Well that Ends Well_, Act iv. Sc. 3.
+
+SOME four miles distant from one of our northern manufacturing towns, in
+the year 18--, was a wide and desolate common; a more dreary spot it is
+impossible to conceive--the herbage grew up in sickly patches from the
+midst of a black and stony soil. Not a tree was to be seen in the whole
+of the comfortless expanse. Nature herself had seemed to desert the
+solitude, as if scared by the ceaseless din of the neighbouring forges;
+and even Art, which presses all things into service, had disdained to
+cull use or beauty from these unpromising demesnes. There was something
+weird and primeval in the aspect of the place; especially when in the
+long nights of winter you beheld the distant fires and lights which give
+to the vicinity of certain manufactories so preternatural an appearance,
+streaming red and wild over the waste. So abandoned by man appeared the
+spot, that you found it difficult to imagine that it was only from human
+fires that its bleak and barren desolation was illumined. For miles
+along the moor you detected no vestige of any habitation; but as you
+approached the verge nearest to the town, you could just perceive at a
+little distance from the main road, by which the common was intersected,
+a small, solitary, and miserable hovel.
+
+Within this lonely abode, at the time in which my story opens, were
+seated two persons. The one was a man of about fifty years of age, and
+in a squalid and wretched garb, which was yet relieved by an affectation
+of ill-assorted finery. A silk handkerchief, which boasted the ornament
+of a large brooch of false stones, was twisted jauntily round a muscular
+but meagre throat; his tattered breeches were also decorated by buckles,
+one of pinchbeck, and one of steel. His frame was lean, but broad
+and sinewy, indicative of considerable strength. His countenance was
+prematurely marked by deep furrows, and his grizzled hair waved over
+a low, rugged, and forbidding brow, on which there hung an everlasting
+frown that no smile from the lips (and the man smiled often) could chase
+away. It was a face that spoke of long-continued and hardened vice--it
+was one in which the Past had written indelible characters. The brand
+of the hangman could not have stamped it more plainly, nor have more
+unequivocally warned the suspicion of honest or timid men.
+
+He was employed in counting some few and paltry coins, which, though an
+easy matter to ascertain their value, he told and retold, as if the act
+could increase the amount. “There must be some mistake here, Alice,” he
+said in a low and muttered tone: “we can’t be so low--you know I had two
+pounds in the drawer but Monday, and now--Alice, you must have stolen
+some of the money--curse you.”
+
+The person thus addressed sat at the opposite side of the smouldering
+and sullen fire; she now looked quietly up, and her face singularly
+contrasted that of the man.
+
+She seemed about fifteen years of age, and her complexion was remarkably
+pure and delicate, even despite the sunburnt tinge which her habits of
+toil had brought it. Her auburn hair hung in loose and natural curls
+over her forehead, and its luxuriance was remarkable even in one so
+young. Her countenance was beautiful, nay, even faultless, in its
+small and child-like features, but the expression pained you--it was so
+vacant. In repose it was almost the expression of an idiot--but when she
+spoke or smiled, or even moved a muscle, the eyes, colour, lips, kindled
+into a life, which proved that the intellect was still there, though but
+imperfectly awakened.
+
+“I did not steal any, father,” she said in a quiet voice; “but I should
+like to have taken some, only I knew you would beat me if I did.”
+
+“And what do you want money for?”
+
+“To get food when I’m hungered.”
+
+“Nothing else?”
+
+“I don’t know.”
+
+The girl paused.--“Why don’t you let me,” she said, after a while, “why
+don’t you let me go and work with the other girls at the factory? I
+should make money there for you and me both.”
+
+The man smiled--such a smile--it seemed to bring into sudden play all
+the revolting characteristics of his countenance. “Child,” he said, “you
+are just fifteen, and a sad fool you are: perhaps if you went to the
+factory, you would get away from me; and what should I do without you?
+No, I think, as you are so pretty, you might get more money another
+way.”
+
+The girl did not seem to understand this allusion: but repeated,
+vacantly, “I should like to go to the factory.”
+
+“Stuff!” said the man, angrily; “I have three minds to--”
+
+Here he was interrupted by a loud knock at the door of the hovel.
+
+The man grew pale. “What can that be?” he muttered. “The hour is
+late--near eleven. Again--again! Ask who knocks, Alice.”
+
+The girl stood for a moment or so at the door; and as she stood, her
+form, rounded yet slight, her earnest look, her varying colour, her
+tender youth, and a singular grace of attitude and gesture, would have
+inspired an artist with the very ideal of rustic beauty.
+
+After a pause, she placed her lips to a chink in the door, and repeated
+her father’s question.
+
+“Pray pardon me,” said a clear, loud, yet courteous voice, “but seeing
+a light at your window, I have ventured to ask if any one within will
+conduct me to ------; I will pay the service handsomely.”
+
+“Open the door, Alley,” said the owner of the hut.
+
+The girl drew a large wooden bolt from the door; and a tall figure
+crossed the threshold.
+
+The new-comer was in the first bloom of youth, perhaps about eighteen
+years of age, and his air and appearance surprised both sire and
+daughter. Alone, on foot, at such an hour, it was impossible for any one
+to mistake him for other than a gentleman; yet his dress was plain
+and somewhat soiled by dust, and he carried a small knapsack on his
+shoulder. As he entered, he lifted his hat with somewhat of foreign
+urbanity, and a profusion of fair brown hair fell partially over a
+high and commanding forehead. His features were handsome, without being
+eminently so, and his aspect was at once bold and prepossessing.
+
+“I am much obliged by your civility,” he said, advancing carelessly
+and addressing the man, who surveyed him with a scrutinising eye;
+“and trust, my good fellow, that you will increase the obligation by
+accompanying me to ------.”
+
+“You can’t miss well your way,” said the man surlily: “the lights will
+direct you.”
+
+“They have rather misled me, for they seem to surround the whole common,
+and there is no path across it that I can see; however, if you will put
+me in the right road, I will not trouble you further.”
+
+“It is very late,” replied the churlish landlord, equivocally.
+
+“The better reason why I should be at ------. Come, my good friend, put
+on your hat, and I will give you half a guinea for your trouble.”
+
+The man advanced, then halted; again surveyed his guest, and said, “Are
+you quite alone, sir?”
+
+“Quite.”
+
+“Probably you are known at ------?”
+
+“Not I. But what matters that to you? I am a stranger in these parts.”
+
+“It is full four miles.”
+
+“So far, and I am fearfully tired already!” exclaimed the young man with
+impatience. As he spoke he drew out his watch. “Past eleven too!”
+
+The watch caught the eye of the cottager; that evil eye sparkled. He
+passed his hand over his brow. “I am thinking, sir,” he said in a more
+civil tone than he had yet assumed, “that as you are so tired and the
+hour is so late, you might almost as well--”
+
+“What?” exclaimed the stranger, stamping somewhat petulantly.
+
+“I don’t like to mention it; but my poor roof is at your service, and I
+would go with you to ------ at daybreak to-morrow.”
+
+The stranger stared at the cottager, and then at the dingy walls of the
+hut. He was about, very abruptly, to reject the hospitable proposal,
+when his eye rested suddenly on the form of Alice, who stood eager-eyed
+and open-mouthed, gazing on the handsome intruder. As she caught his
+eye, she blushed deeply and turned aside. The view seemed to change the
+intentions of the stranger. He hesitated a moment, then muttered between
+his teeth: and sinking his knapsack on the ground, he cast himself into
+a chair beside the fire, stretched his limbs, and cried gaily, “So be
+it, my host: shut up your house again. Bring me a cup of beer, and a
+crust of bread, and so much for supper! As for bed, this chair will do
+vastly well.”
+
+“Perhaps we can manage better for you than that chair,” answered the
+host. “But our best accommodation must seem bad enough to a gentleman:
+we are very poor people--hard-working, but very poor.”
+
+“Never mind me,” answered the stranger, busying himself in stirring the
+fire; “I am tolerably well accustomed to greater hardships than sleeping
+on a chair in an honest man’s house; and though you are poor, I will
+take it for granted you are honest.”
+
+The man grinned: and turning to Alice, bade her spread what their
+larder would afford. Some crusts of bread, some cold potatoes, and some
+tolerably strong beer, composed all the fare set before the traveller.
+
+Despite his previous boasts, the young man made a wry face at these
+Socratic preparations, while he drew his chair to the board. But his
+look grew more gay as he caught Alice’s eye; and as she lingered by the
+table, and faltered out some hesitating words of apology, he seized
+her hand, and pressing it tenderly--“Prettiest of lasses,” said he--and
+while he spoke he gazed on her with undisguised admiration--“a man who
+has travelled on foot all day, through the ugliest country within the
+three seas, is sufficiently refreshed at night by the sight of so fair a
+face.”
+
+Alice hastily withdrew her hand, and went and seated herself in a corner
+of the room, when she continued to look at the stranger with her usual
+vacant gaze, but with a half-smile upon her rosy lips.
+
+Alice’s father looked hard first at one, then at the other.
+
+“Eat, sir,” said he, with a sort of chuckle, “and no fine words; poor
+Alice is honest, as you said just now.”
+
+“To be sure,” answered the traveller, employing with great zeal a set
+of strong, even, and dazzling teeth at the tough crusts; “to be sure
+she is. I did not mean to offend you; but the fact is, that I am half a
+foreigner; and abroad, you know, one may say a civil thing to a pretty
+girl without hurting her feelings, or her father’s either.”
+
+“Half a foreigner! why, you talk English as well as I do,” said the
+host, whose intonation and words were, on the whole, a little above his
+station.
+
+The stranger smiled. “Thank you for the compliment,” said he. “What I
+meant was, that I have been a great deal abroad; in fact, I have just
+returned from Germany. But I am English born.”
+
+“And going home?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Far from hence?”
+
+“About thirty miles, I believe.”
+
+“You are young, sir, to be alone.”
+
+The traveller made no answer, but finished his uninviting repast and
+drew his chair again to the fire. He then thought he had sufficiently
+ministered to his host’s curiosity to be entitled to the gratification
+of his own.
+
+“You work at the factories, I suppose?” said he.
+
+“I do, sir. Bad times.”
+
+“And your pretty daughter?”
+
+“Minds the house.”
+
+“Have you no other children?”
+
+“No; one mouth besides my own is as much as I can feed, and that
+scarcely. But you would like to rest now; you can have my bed, sir; I
+can sleep here.”
+
+“By no means,” said the stranger, quickly; “just put a few more coals on
+the fire, and leave me to make myself comfortable.”
+
+The man rose, and did not press his offer, but left the room for a
+supply of fuel. Alice remained in her corner.
+
+“Sweetheart,” said the traveller, looking round and satisfying himself
+that they were alone: “I should sleep well if I could get one kiss from
+those coral lips.”
+
+Alice hid her face with her hands.
+
+“Do I vex you?”
+
+“Oh no, sir.”
+
+At this assurance the traveller rose, and approached Alice softly. He
+drew away her hands from her face, when she said gently, “Have you much
+money about you?”
+
+“Oh, the mercenary baggage!” said the traveller to himself; and then
+replied aloud, “Why, pretty one? Do you sell your kisses so high then?”
+
+Alice frowned and tossed the hair from her brow. “If you have money,”
+ she said, in a whisper, “don’t say so to father. Don’t sleep if you can
+help it. I’m afraid--hush--he comes!”
+
+The young man returned to his seat with an altered manner. And as his
+host entered, he for the first time surveyed him closely. The imperfect
+glimmer of the half-dying and single candle threw into strong lights and
+shades the marked, rugged, and ferocious features of the cottager; and
+the eye of the traveller, glancing from the face to the limbs and frame,
+saw that whatever of violence the mind might design, the body might well
+execute.
+
+The traveller sank into a gloomy reverie. The wind howled--the rain
+beat--through the casement shone no solitary star--all was dark and
+sombre. Should he proceed alone--might he not suffer a greater danger
+upon that wide and desert moor--might not the host follow--assault him
+in the dark? He had no weapon save a stick. But within he had at least
+a rude resource in the large kitchen poker that was beside him. At all
+events it would be better to wait for the present. He might at any time,
+when alone, withdraw the bolt from the door, and slip out unobserved.
+Such was the fruit of his meditations while his host plied the fire.
+
+“You will sleep sound to-night,” said his entertainer, smiling.
+
+“Humph! Why, I am _over_-fatigued; I dare say it will be an hour or two
+before I fall asleep; but when I once am asleep, I sleep like a rock!”
+
+“Come, Alice,” said her father, “let us leave the gentleman. Goodnight,
+sir.”
+
+“Good night--good night,” returned the traveller, yawning.
+
+The father and daughter disappeared through a door in the corner of the
+room. The guest heard them ascend the creaking stairs--all was still.
+
+“Fool that I am,” said the traveller to himself, “will nothing teach
+me that I am no longer a student at Gottingen, or cure me of these
+pedestrian adventures? Had it not been for that girl’s big blue eyes, I
+should be safe at ------ by this time, if, indeed, the grim father
+had not murdered me by the road. However, we’ll baulk him yet: another
+half-hour, and I am on the moor: we must give him time. And in the
+meanwhile here is the poker. At the worst it is but one to one; but the
+churl is strongly built.”
+
+Although the traveller thus endeavoured to cheer his courage, his heart
+beat more loudly than its wont. He kept his eyes stationed on the door
+by which the cottagers had vanished, and his hand on the massive poker.
+
+While the stranger was thus employed below, Alice, instead of turning to
+her own narrow cell, went into her father’s room.
+
+The cottager was seated at the foot of his bed muttering to himself, and
+with eyes fixed on the ground.
+
+The girl stood before him, gazing on his face, and with her arms lightly
+crossed above her bosom.
+
+“It must be worth twenty guineas,” said the host, abruptly to himself.
+
+“What is it to you, father, what the gentleman’s watch is worth?”
+
+The man started.
+
+“You mean,” continued Alice, quietly, “you mean to do some injury to
+that young man; but you shall not.”
+
+The cottager’s face grew black as night. “How,” he began in a loud
+voice, but suddenly dropped the tone into a deep growl--“how dare you
+talk to me so?--go to bed--go to bed.”
+
+“No, father.”
+
+“No?”
+
+“I will not stir from this room until daybreak.”
+
+“We will soon see that,” said the man, with an oath.
+
+“Touch me, and I will alarm the gentleman, and tell him that--”
+
+“What?”
+
+The girl approached her father, placed her lips to his ear, and
+whispered, “That you intend to murder him.”
+
+The cottager’s frame trembled from head to foot; he shut his eyes,
+and gasped painfully for breath. “Alice,” said he, gently, after a
+pause--“Alice, we are often nearly starving.”
+
+“_I_ am--_you_ never!”
+
+“Wretch, yes, if I do drink too much one day, I pinch for it the next.
+But go to bed, I say--I mean no harm to the young man. Think you I would
+twist myself a rope?--no, no; go along, go along.”
+
+Alice’s face, which had before been earnest and almost intelligent, now
+relapsed into its wonted vacant stare.
+
+“To be sure, father, they would hang you if you cut his throat. Don’t
+forget that;--good night;” and so saying, she walked to her own opposite
+chamber.
+
+Left alone, the host pressed his hand tightly to his forehead, and
+remained motionless for nearly half an hour.
+
+“If that cursed girl would but sleep,” he muttered at last, turning
+round, “it might be done at once. And there’s the pond behind, as deep
+as a well; and I might say at daybreak that the boy had bolted. He seems
+quite a stranger here--nobody’ll miss him. He must have plenty of blunt
+to give half a guinea to a guide across a common! I want money, and I
+won’t work--if I can help it, at least.”
+
+While he thus soliloquised the air seemed to oppress him; he opened the
+window, he leant out--the rain beat upon him. He closed the window with
+an oath; took off his shoes, stole to the threshold, and, by the candle,
+which he shaded with his hand, surveyed the opposite door. It was
+closed. He then bent anxiously forward and listened.
+
+“All’s quiet,” thought he, “perhaps he sleeps already. I will steal
+down. If Jack Walters would but come tonight, the job would be done
+charmingly.”
+
+With that he crept gently down the stairs. In a corner, at the foot
+of the staircase, lay sundry matters, a few faggots, and a cleaver. He
+caught up the last. “Aha,” he muttered; “and there’s the sledge-hammer
+somewhere for Walters.” Leaning himself against the door, he then
+applied his eye to a chink which admitted a dim view of the room within,
+lighted fitfully by the fire.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+ “What have we here?
+  A carrion death!”
+    _Merchant of Venice_, Act ii. Sc. 7.
+
+IT was about this time that the stranger deemed it advisable to commence
+his retreat. The slight and suppressed sound of voices, which at first
+he had heard above in the conversation of the father and child, had died
+away. The stillness at once encouraged and warned him. He stole to the
+front door, softly undid the bolt, and found the door locked, and the
+key missing. He had not observed that during his repast, and ere
+his suspicions had been aroused, his host, in replacing the bar, and
+relocking the entrance, had abstracted the key. His fears were now
+confirmed. His next thought was the window--the shutter only protected
+it half-way, and was easily removed; but the aperture of the lattice,
+which only opened in part like most cottage casements, was far too small
+to admit his person. His only means of escape was in breaking the whole
+window; a matter not to be effected without noise and consequent risk.
+
+He paused in despair. He was naturally of a strong-nerved and gallant
+temperament, nor unaccustomed to those perils of life and limb which
+German students delight to brave; but his heart well-nigh failed him at
+that moment. The silence became distinct and burdensome to him, and a
+chill moisture gathered to his brow. While he stood irresolute and in
+suspense, striving to collect his thoughts, his ear, preternaturally
+sharpened by fear, caught the faint muffled sound of creeping
+footsteps--he heard the stairs creak. The sound broke the spell. The
+previous vague apprehension gave way, when the danger became actually at
+hand. His presence of mind returned at once. He went back quickly to the
+fireplace, seized the poker, and began stirring the fire, and coughing
+loud, and indicating as vigorously as possible that he was wide awake.
+
+He felt that he was watched--he felt that he was in momently peril. He
+felt that the appearance of slumber would be the signal for a mortal
+conflict. Time passed, all remained silent; nearly half an hour had
+elapsed since he had heard the steps upon the stairs. His situation
+began to prey upon his nerves, it irritated them--it became intolerable.
+It was not now fear that he experienced, it was the overwrought sense of
+mortal enmity--the consciousness that a man may feel who knows that the
+eye of a tiger is on him, and who, while in suspense he has regained
+his courage, foresees that sooner or later the spring must come; the
+suspense itself becomes an agony, and he desires to expedite the deadly
+struggle he cannot shun.
+
+Utterly incapable any longer to bear his own sensations, the traveller
+rose at last, fixed his eyes upon the fatal door, and was about to
+cry aloud to the listener to enter, when he heard a slight tap at
+the window; it was twice repeated; and at the third time a low voice
+pronounced the name of Darvil. It was clear, then, that accomplices had
+arrived; it was no longer against one man that he would have to contend.
+He drew his breath hard, and listened with throbbing ears. He heard
+steps without upon the plashing soil; they retired--all was still.
+
+He paused a few minutes, and walked deliberately and firmly to the inner
+door, at which he fancied his host stationed; with a steady hand he
+attempted to open the door; it was fastened on the opposite side. “So!”
+ said he, bitterly, and grinding his teeth, “I must die like a rat in a
+cage. Well, I’ll die biting.”
+
+He returned to his former post, drew himself up to his full height,
+and stood grasping his homely weapon, prepared for the worst, and
+not altogether unelated with a proud consciousness of his own natural
+advantages of activity, stature, strength and daring. Minutes rolled on;
+the silence was broken by some one at the inner door; he heard the bolt
+gently withdrawn. He raised his weapon with both hands; and started to
+find the intruder was only Alice. She came in with bare feet, and pale
+as marble, her finger on her lips.
+
+She approached--she touched him.
+
+“They are in the shed behind,” she whispered, “looking for the
+sledge-hammer--they mean to murder you; get you gone--quick.”
+
+“How?--the door is locked.”
+
+“Stay. I have taken the key from his room.”
+
+She gained the door, applied the key--the door yielded. The traveller
+threw his knapsack once more over his shoulder, and made but one stride
+to the threshold. The girl stopped him. “Don’t say anything about it; he
+is my father, they would hang him.”
+
+“No, no. But you?--are safe, I trust?--depend on my gratitude.--I shall
+be at ------ to-morrow--the best inn--seek me if you can. Which way
+now?”
+
+“Keep to the left.”
+
+The stranger was already several paces distant; through the darkness,
+and in the midst of the rain, he fled on with the speed of youth.
+The girl lingered an instant, sighed, then laughed aloud; closed and
+re-barred the door, and was creeping back, when from the inner entrance
+advanced the grim father, and another man, of broad, short, sinewy
+frame, his arms bare, and wielding a large hammer.
+
+“How?” asked the host; “Alice here, and--hell and the devil! have you
+let him go?”
+
+“I told you that you should not harm him.”
+
+With a violent oath the ruffian struck his daughter to the ground,
+sprang over her body, unbarred the door, and, accompanied by his
+comrade, set off in vague pursuit of his intended victim.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ “You knew--none so well, of my daughter’s flight.”
+    _Merchant of Venice_, Act iii. Sc. 1.
+
+THE day dawned; it was a mild, damp, hazy morning; the sod sank deep
+beneath the foot, the roads were heavy with mire, and the rain of the
+past night lay here and there in broad shallow pools. Towards the town,
+waggons, carts, pedestrian groups were already moving; and, now and
+then, you caught the sharp horn of some early coach, wheeling its
+be-cloaked outside and be-nightcapped inside passengers along the
+northern thoroughfare.
+
+A young man bounded over a stile into the road just opposite to the
+milestone, that declared him to be one mile from ------.
+
+“Thank Heaven!” he said, almost aloud. “After spending the night
+wandering about morasses like a will-o’-the-wisp, I approach a town at
+last. Thank Heaven again, and for all its mercies this night! I breathe
+freely. I AM SAFE.”
+
+He walked on somewhat rapidly; he passed a slow waggon---he passed a
+group of mechanics--he passed a drove of sheep, and now he saw walking
+leisurely before him a single figure. It was a girl, in a worn and
+humble dress, who seemed to seek her weary way with pain and languor.
+He was about also to pass her, when he heard a low cry. He turned, and
+beheld in the wayfarer his preserver of the previous night.
+
+“Heavens! is it indeed you? Can I believe my eyes?”
+
+“I was coming to seek you, sir,” said the girl, faintly. “I too have
+escaped; I shall never go back to father; I have no roof to cover my
+head now.”
+
+“Poor child! but how is this? Did they ill use you for releasing me?”
+
+“Father knocked me down, and beat me again when he came back; but that
+is not all,” she added, in a very low tone.
+
+“What else?”
+
+The girl grew red and white by turns. She set her teeth rigidly, stopped
+short, and then walking on quicker than before, replied: “It don’t
+matter; I will never go back--I’m alone now. What, what shall I do?” and
+she wrung her hands.
+
+The traveller’s pity was deeply moved. “My good girl,” said he,
+earnestly, “you have saved my life, and I am not ungrateful. Here” (and
+he placed some gold in her hand), “get yourself a lodging, food and
+rest; you look as if you wanted them; and see me again this evening when
+it is dark and we can talk unobserved.”
+
+The girl took the money passively, and looked up in his face while he
+spoke; the look was so unsuspecting, and the whole countenance was so
+beautifully modest and virgin-like, that had any evil passion prompted
+the traveller’s last words, it must have fled scared and abashed as he
+met the gaze.
+
+“My poor girl,” said he, embarrassed, and after a short pause; “you are
+very young, and very, very pretty. In this town you will be exposed to
+many temptations: take care where you lodge; you have, no doubt, friends
+here?”
+
+“Friends?--what are friends?” answered Alice.
+
+“Have you no relations?--no _mother’s kin_?”
+
+“None.”
+
+“Do you know where to ask shelter?”
+
+“No, sir; for I can’t go where father goes, lest he should find me out.”
+
+“Well, then, seek some quiet inn, and meet me this evening just here,
+half a mile from the town, at seven. I will try and think of something
+for you in the meanwhile. But you seem tired, you walk with pain;
+perhaps it will fatigue you to come--I mean, you had rather perhaps rest
+another day.”
+
+“Oh no, no! it will do me good to see you again, sir.”
+
+The young man’s eyes met hers, and hers were not withdrawn; their soft
+blue was suffused with tears--they penetrated his soul. He turned
+away hastily, and saw that they were already the subject of curious
+observation to the various passengers that overtook them. “Don’t
+forget!” he whispered, and strode on with a pace that soon brought him
+to the town.
+
+He inquired for the principal hotel--entered it with an air that bespoke
+that nameless consciousness of superiority which belongs to those
+accustomed to purchase welcome wherever welcome is bought and sold--and
+before a blazing fire and no unsubstantial breakfast, forgot all the
+terrors of the past night, or rather felt rejoiced to think he had
+added a new and strange hazard to the catalogue of adventures already
+experienced by Ernest Maltravers.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+ “Con una Dama tenia
+  Un galan conversacion.” *
+   MORATIN: _El Teatro Espanol_.--Num. 15.
+
+* With a dame he held a gallant conversation.
+
+MALTRAVERS was first at the appointed place. His character was in
+most respects singularly energetic, decided, and premature in its
+development; but not so in regard to women: with them he was the
+creature of the moment; and, driven to and fro by whatever impulse, or
+whatever passion, caught the caprice of a wild, roving, and all-poetical
+imagination, Maltravers was, half unconsciously, a poet--a poet of
+action, and woman was his muse.
+
+He had formed no plan of conduct towards the poor girl he was to meet.
+He meant no harm to her. If she had been less handsome, he would have
+been equally grateful; and her dress, and youth, and condition, would
+equally have compelled him to select the hour of dusk for an interview.
+
+He arrived at the spot. The winter night had already descended; but a
+sharp frost had set in: the air was clear, the stars were bright, and
+the long shadows slept, still and calm, along the broad road, and the
+whitened fields beyond.
+
+He walked briskly to and fro, without much thought of the interview, or
+its object, half chanting old verses, German and English, to himself,
+and stopping to gaze every moment at the silent stars.
+
+At length he saw Alice approach: she came up to him timidly and gently.
+His heart beat more quickly; he felt that he was young and alone
+with beauty. “Sweet girl,” he said, with involuntary and mechanical
+compliment, “how well this light becomes you. How shall I thank you for
+not forgetting me?”
+
+Alice surrendered her hand to his without a struggle.
+
+“What is your name?” said he, bending his face down to hers.
+
+“Alice Darvil.”
+
+“And your terrible father,--_is_ he, in truth, your father?”
+
+“Indeed he is my father and mother too!”
+
+“What made you suspect his intention to murder me? Has he ever attempted
+the like crime?”
+
+“No; but lately he has often talked of robbery. He is very poor, sir.
+And when I saw his eye, and when afterwards, while your back was turned,
+he took the key from the door, I felt that--that you were in danger.”
+
+“Good girl--go on.”
+
+“I told him so when we went up-stairs. I did not know what to believe,
+when he said he would not hurt you; but I stole the key of the front
+door, which he had thrown on the table, and went to my room. I listened
+at my door; I heard him go down the stairs--he stopped there for some
+time; and I watched him from above. The place where he was opened to the
+field by the back-way. After some time, I heard a voice whisper him; I
+knew the voice, and then they both went out by the back-way; so I stole
+down, and went out and listened; and I knew the other man was John
+Walters. I’m afraid of _him_, sir. And then Walters said, says he, ‘I
+will get the hammer, and, sleep or wake, we’ll do it.’ And father
+said, ‘It’s in the shed.’ So I saw there was no time to be lost, sir,
+and--and--but you know all the rest.”
+
+“But how did you escape?”
+
+“Oh, my father, after talking to Walters, came to my room, and beat
+and--and--frightened me; and when he was gone to bed, I put on my
+clothes, and stole out; it was just light; and I walked on till I met
+you.”
+
+“Poor child, in what a den of vice you have been brought up!”
+
+“Anan, sir.”
+
+“She don’t understand me. Have you been taught to read and write?”
+
+“Oh no!”
+
+“But I suppose you have been taught, at least, to say your
+catechism--and you pray sometimes?”
+
+“I have prayed to father not to beat me.”
+
+“But to God?”
+
+“God, sir--what is that?” *
+
+* This ignorance--indeed the whole sketch of Alice--is from the life;
+nor is such ignorance, accompanied by what almost seems an instinctive
+or intuitive notion of right or wrong, very uncommon, as our police
+reports can testify. In the _Examiner_ for, I think, the year 1835,
+will be found the case of a young girl ill-treated by her father, whose
+answers to the interrogatories of the magistrate are very similar to
+those of Alice to the questions of Maltravers.
+
+Maltravers drew back, shocked and appalled. Premature philosopher as he
+was, this depth of ignorance perplexed his wisdom. He had read all the
+disputes of schoolmen, whether or not the notion of a Supreme Being is
+innate; but he had never before been brought face to face with a living
+creature who was unconscious of a God.
+
+After a pause, he said: “My poor girl, we misunderstand each other. You
+know that there is a God?”
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+“Did no one ever tell you who made the stars you now survey--the earth
+on which you tread?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“And have you never thought about it yourself?”
+
+“Why should I? What has that to do with being cold and hungry?”
+
+Maltravers looked incredulous. “You see that great building, with the
+spire rising in the starlight?”
+
+“Yes, sir, sure.”
+
+“What is it called?”
+
+“Why, a church.”
+
+“Did you never go into it?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“What do people do there?”
+
+“Father says one man talks nonsense, and the other folk listen to him.”
+
+“Your father is--no matter. Good heavens! what shall I do with this
+unhappy child?”
+
+“Yes, sir, I am very unhappy,” said Alice, catching at the last words;
+and the tears rolled silently down her cheeks.
+
+Maltravers never was more touched in his life. Whatever thoughts of
+gallantry might have entered his young head, had he found Alice such as
+he might reasonably have expected, he now felt that there was a kind
+of sanctity in her ignorance; and his gratitude and kindly sentiment
+towards her took almost a brotherly aspect.--“You know, at least, what
+school is?” he asked.
+
+“Yes, I have talked with girls who go to school.”
+
+“Would you like to go there, too?”
+
+“Oh, no, sir, pray not!”
+
+“What should you like to do, then? Speak out, child. I owe you so much,
+that I should be too happy to make you comfortable and contented in your
+own way.”
+
+“I should like to live with you, sir.” Maltravers started, and half
+smiled, and coloured. But looking on her eyes, which were fixed
+earnestly on his, there was so much artlessness in their soft,
+unconscious gaze, that he saw she was wholly ignorant of the
+interpretation that might be put upon so candid a confession.
+
+I have said that Maltravers was a wild, enthusiastic, odd being--he was,
+in fact, full of strange German romance and metaphysical speculations.
+He had once shut himself up for months to study astrology--and been even
+suspected of a serious hunt after the philosopher’s stone; another time
+he had narrowly escaped with life and liberty from a frantic conspiracy
+of the young republicans of his university, in which, being bolder and
+madder than most of them, he had been an active ringleader; it was,
+indeed, some such folly that had compelled him to quit Germany sooner
+than himself or his parents desired. He had nothing of the sober
+Englishman about him. Whatever was strange and eccentric had an
+irresistible charm for Ernest Maltravers. And agreeably to this
+disposition, he now revolved an idea that enchanted his mobile and
+fantastic philosophy. He himself would educate this charming girl--he
+would write fair and heavenly characters upon this blank page--he would
+act the Saint Preux to this Julie of Nature. Alas, he did not think of
+the result which the parallel should have suggested. At that age, Ernest
+Maltravers never damped the ardour of an experiment by the anticipation
+of consequences.
+
+“So,” he said, after a short reverie, “so you would like to live with
+me? But, Alice, we must not fall in love with each other.”
+
+“I don’t understand, sir.”
+
+“Never mind,” said Maltravers, a little disconcerted.
+
+“I always wished to go into service.”
+
+“Ha!”
+
+“And you would be a kind master.”
+
+Maltravers was half disenchanted.
+
+“No very flattering preference,” thought he: “so much the safer for us.
+Well, Alice, it shall be as you wish. Are you comfortable where you are,
+in your new lodgings?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Why, they do not insult you?”
+
+“No; but they make a noise, and I like to be quiet to think of you.”
+
+The young philosopher was reconciled again to his scheme.
+
+“Well, Alice--go back--I will take a cottage to-morrow, and you shall be
+my servant, and I will teach you to read and write and say your prayers,
+and know that you have a Father above who loves you better than he
+below. Meet me again at the same hour to-morrow. Why do you cry, Alice?
+why do you cry?”
+
+“Because--because,” sobbed the girl, “I am so happy, and I shall live
+with you and see you.”
+
+“Go, child--go, child,” said Maltravers, hastily; and he walked away
+with a quicker pulse than became his new character of master and
+preceptor.
+
+He looked back, and saw the girl gazing at him; he waved his hand, and
+she moved on and followed him slowly back to the town.
+
+Maltravers, though not an elder son, was the heir of affluent fortunes;
+he enjoyed a munificent allowance that sufficed for the whims of a youth
+who had learned in Germany none of the extravagant notions common to
+young Englishmen of similar birth and prospects. He was a spoiled child,
+with no law but his own fancy,--his return home was not expected,--there
+was nothing to prevent the indulgence of his new caprice. The next day
+he hired a cottage in the neighbourhood, which was one of those pretty
+thatched edifices, with verandas and monthly roses, a conservatory and a
+lawn, which justify the English proverb about a cottage and love. It
+had been built by a mercantile bachelor for some Fair Rosamond, and did
+credit to his taste. An old woman, let with the house, was to cook and
+do the work. Alice was but a nominal servant. Neither the old woman nor
+the landlord comprehended the Platonic intentions of the young stranger.
+But he paid his rent in advance, and they were not particular. He,
+however, thought it prudent to conceal his name. It was one sure to be
+known in a town not very distant from the residence of his father, a
+wealthy and long-descended country gentleman. He adopted, therefore, the
+common name of Butler; which, indeed, belonged to one of his maternal
+connections, and by that name alone was he known in the neighbourhood
+and to Alice. From her he would not have sought concealment,--but
+somehow or other no occasion ever presented itself to induce him to talk
+much to her of his parentage or birth.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+ “Thought would destroy their Paradise.”--GRAY.
+
+MALTRAVERS found Alice as docile a pupil as any reasonable preceptor
+might have desired. But still, reading and writing--they are very
+uninteresting elements! Had the groundwork been laid, it might have been
+delightful to raise the fairy palace of knowledge; but the digging the
+foundations and the constructing the cellars is weary labour. Perhaps he
+felt it so; for in a few days Alice was handed over to the very oldest
+and ugliest writing-master that the neighbouring town could afford.
+The poor girl at first wept much at the exchange; but the grave
+remonstrances and solemn exhortations of Maltravers reconciled her
+at last, and she promised to work hard and pay every attention to her
+lessons. I am not sure, however, that it was the tedium of the work that
+deterred the idealist--perhaps he felt its danger--and at the bottom of
+his sparkling dreams and brilliant follies lay a sound, generous, and
+noble heart. He was fond of pleasure, and had been already the darling
+of the sentimental German ladies. But he was too young and too vivid,
+and too romantic, to be what is called a sensualist. He could not look
+upon a fair face, and a guileless smile, and all the ineffable symmetry
+of a woman’s shape, with the eye of a man buying cattle for base uses.
+He very easily fell in love, or fancied he did, it is true,--but then he
+could not separate desire from fancy, or calculate the game of passion
+without bringing the heart or the imagination into the matter. And
+though Alice was very pretty and very engaging, he was not yet in love
+with her, and he had no intention of becoming so.
+
+He felt the evening somewhat long, when for the first time Alice
+discontinued her usual lesson; but Maltravers had abundant resources in
+himself. He placed Shakespeare and Schiller on his table, and lighted
+his German meerschaum--he read till he became inspired, and then he
+wrote--and when he had composed a few stanzas he was not contented till
+he had set them to music, and tried their melody with his voice. For
+he had all the passion of a German for song, and music--that wild
+Maltravers!--and his voice was sweet, his taste consummate, his
+science profound. As the sun puts out a star, so the full blaze of his
+imagination, fairly kindled, extinguished for the time his fairy fancy
+for his beautiful pupil.
+
+It was late that night when Maltravers went to bed--and as he passed
+through the narrow corridor that led to his chamber he heard a light
+step flying before him, and caught the glimpse of a female figure
+escaping through a distant door. “The silly child,” thought he, at once
+divining the cause; “she has been listening to my singing. I shall scold
+her.” But he forgot that resolution.
+
+The next day, and the next, and many days passed, and Maltravers saw but
+little of the pupil for whose sake he had shut himself up in a country
+cottage, in the depth of winter. Still he did not repent his purpose,
+nor was he in the least tired of his seclusion--he would not inspect
+Alice’s progress, for he was certain he should be dissatisfied with its
+slowness--and people, however handsome, cannot learn to read and write
+in a day. But he amused himself, notwithstanding. He was glad of an
+opportunity to be alone with his own thoughts, for he was at one of
+those periodical epochs of life when we like to pause and breathe a
+while, in brief respite from that methodical race in which we run to the
+grave. He wished to re-collect the stores of his past experience, and
+repose on his own mind, before he started afresh upon the active world.
+The weather was cold and inclement; but Ernest Maltravers was a hardy
+lover of nature, and neither snow nor frost could detain him from
+his daily rambles. So, about noon, he regularly threw aside books
+and papers, took his hat and staff, and went whistling or humming his
+favourite airs through the dreary streets, or along the bleak waters, or
+amidst the leafless woods, just as the humour seized him; for he was not
+an Edwin or Harold, who reserved speculation only for lonely brooks and
+pastoral hills. Maltravers delighted to contemplate nature in men as
+well as in sheep or trees. The humblest alley in a crowded town had
+something poetical for him; he was ever ready to mix in a crowd, if it
+were only gathered round a barrel-organ or a dog-fight, and listen to
+all that was said and notice all that was done. And this I take to be
+the true poetical temperament essential to every artist who aspires to
+be something more than a scene-painter. But, above all things, he was
+most interested in any display of human passions or affections; he
+loved to see the true colours of the heart, where they are most
+transparent--in the uneducated and poor--for he was something of an
+optimist, and had a hearty faith in the loveliness of our nature.
+Perhaps, indeed, he owed much of the insight into and mastery over
+character that he was afterwards considered to display, to his disbelief
+that there is any wickedness so dark as not to be susceptible of
+the light in some place or another. But Maltravers had his fits of
+unsociability, and then nothing but the most solitary scenes delighted
+him. Winter or summer, barren waste or prodigal verdure, all had beauty
+in his eyes; for their beauty lay in his own soul, through which he
+beheld them. From these walks he would return home at dusk, take his
+simple meal, rhyme or read away the long evenings with such alternation
+as music or the dreamy thoughts of a young man with gay life before him
+could afford. Happy Maltravers!--youth and genius have luxuries all
+the Rothschilds cannot purchase! And yet, Maltravers, you are
+ambitious!--life moves too slowly for you!--you would push on the
+wheels of the clock!--Fool--brilliant fool!--you are eighteen, and a
+poet!--What more can you desire?--Bid Time stop for ever!
+
+One morning Ernest rose earlier than his wont, and sauntered carelessly
+through the conservatory which adjoined his sitting-room; observing the
+plants with placid curiosity (for besides being a little of a botanist,
+he had odd visionary notions about the life of plants, and he saw in
+them a hundred mysteries which the herbalists do not teach us), when
+he heard a low and very musical voice singing at a little distance. He
+listened, and recognised, with surprise, words of his own, which he had
+lately set to music, and was sufficiently pleased with to sing nightly.
+
+When the song ended, Maltravers stole softly through the conservatory,
+and as he opened the door which led into the garden, he saw at the open
+window of a little room which was apportioned to Alice, and jutted out
+from the building in the fanciful irregularity common to ornamental
+cottages, the form of his discarded pupil. She did not observe him, and
+it was not till he twice called her by name, that she started from her
+thoughtful and melancholy posture.
+
+“Alice,” said he, gently, “put on your bonnet, and walk with me in the
+garden: you look pale, child; the fresh air will do you good.”
+
+Alice coloured and smiled, and in a few moments was by his side.
+Maltravers, meanwhile, had gone in and lighted his meerschaum, for it
+was his great inspirer whenever his thoughts were perplexed, or he felt
+his usual fluency likely to fail him, and such was the case now. With
+this faithful ally he awaited Alice in the little walk that circled the
+lawn, amidst shrubs and evergreens.
+
+“Alice,” said he after a pause; but he stopped short.
+
+Alice looked up at him with grave respect.
+
+“Tush!” said Maltravers; “perhaps the smoke is unpleasant to you. It is
+a bad habit of mine.”
+
+“No, sir,” answered Alice; and she seemed disappointed. Maltravers
+paused, and picked up a snowdrop.
+
+“It is pretty,” he said; “do you love flowers?”
+
+“Oh, dearly,” answered Alice, with some enthusiasm; “I never saw many
+till I came here.”
+
+“Now then I can go on,” thought Maltravers; why, I cannot say, for I do
+not see the _sequitur_; but on he went _in medias res_. “Alice, you sing
+charmingly.”
+
+“Ah! sir, you--you--” she stopped abruptly, and trembled visibly.
+
+“Yes, I overheard you, Alice.”
+
+“And you are angry?”
+
+“I!--Heaven forbid! It is a _talent_--but you don’t know what that is;
+I mean it is an excellent thing to have an ear; and a voice, and a heart
+for music; and you have all three.”
+
+He paused, for he felt his hand touched; Alice suddenly clasped and
+kissed it. Maltravers thrilled through his whole frame; but there was
+something in the girl’s look that showed she was wholly unaware that she
+had committed an unmaidenly or forward action.
+
+“I was so afraid you would be angry,” she said, wiping her eyes as she
+dropped his hand; “and now I suppose you know all.”
+
+“All!”
+
+“Yes; how I listened to you every evening, and lay awake the whole night
+with the music ringing in my ears, till I tried to go over it myself;
+and so at last I ventured to sing aloud. I like that much better than
+learning to read.”
+
+All this was delightful to Maltravers: the girl had touched upon one of
+his weak points; however, he remained silent. Alice continued:
+
+“And now, sir, I hope you will let me come and sit outside the door
+every evening and hear you; I will make no noise--I will be so quiet.”
+
+“What, in that cold corridor, these bitter nights?”
+
+“I am used to cold, sir. Father would not let me have a fire when he was
+not at home.”
+
+“No, Alice, but you shall come into the room while I play, and I will
+give you a lesson or two. I am glad you have so good an ear; it may be a
+means of your earning your own honest livelihood when you leave me.”
+
+“When I--but I never intend to leave you, sir!” said Alice, beginning
+fearfully and ending calmly.
+
+Maltravers had recourse to the meerschaum.
+
+Luckily, perhaps, at this time, they were joined by Mr. Simcox, the old
+writing-master. Alice went in to prepare her books; but Maltravers laid
+his hand upon the preceptor’s shoulder.
+
+“You have a quick pupil, I hope, sir?” said he.
+
+“Oh, very, very, Mr. Butler. She comes on famously. She practises a
+great deal when I am away, and I do my best.”
+
+“And,” asked Maltravers, in a grave tone, “have you succeeded in
+instilling into the poor child’s mind some of those more sacred notions
+of which I spoke to you at our first meeting?”
+
+“Why, sir, she was indeed quite a heathen--quite a Mahometan, I may say;
+but she is a little better now.”
+
+“What have you taught her?”
+
+“That God made her.”
+
+“That is a great step.”
+
+“And that He loves good girls, and will watch over them.”
+
+“Bravo! You beat Plato.”
+
+“No, sir, I never beat any one, except little Jack Turner; but he is a
+dunce.”
+
+“Bah! What else do you teach her?”
+
+“That the devil runs away with bad girls, and--”
+
+“Stop there, Mr. Simcox. Never mind the devil yet a while. Let her first
+learn to do good, that God may love her; the rest will follow. I would
+rather make people religious through their best feelings than their
+worst,--through their gratitude and affections, rather than their fears
+and calculations of risk and punishment.”
+
+Mr. Simcox stared.
+
+“Does she say her prayers?”
+
+“I have taught her a short one.”
+
+“Did she learn it readily?”
+
+“Lord love her, yes! When I told her she ought to pray to God to bless
+her benefactor, she would not rest till I had repeated a prayer out of
+our Sunday School book, and she got it by heart at once.”
+
+“Enough, Mr. Simcox. I will not detain you longer.”
+
+Forgetful of his untasted breakfast, Maltravers continued his meerschaum
+and his reflections: he did not cease, till he had convinced himself
+that he was but doing his duty to Alice, by teaching her to cultivate
+the charming talent she evidently possessed, and through which she might
+secure her own independence. He fancied that he should thus relieve
+himself of a charge and responsibility which often perplexed him. Alice
+would leave him, enabled to walk the world in an honest professional
+path. It was an excellent idea. “But there is danger,” whispered
+Conscience. “Ay,” answered Philosophy and Pride, those wise dupes that
+are always so solemn and always so taken in; “but what is virtue without
+trial?”
+
+And now every evening, when the windows were closed, and the hearth
+burnt clear, while the winds stormed, and the rain beat without, a lithe
+and lovely shape hovered about the student’s chamber; and his wild songs
+were sung by a voice which Nature had made even sweeter than his own.
+
+Alice’s talent for music was indeed surprising; enthusiastic and quick
+as he himself was in all he undertook, Maltravers was amazed at her
+rapid progress. He soon taught her to play by ear; and Maltravers could
+not but notice that her hand, always delicate in shape, had lost the
+rude colour and roughness of labour. He thought of that pretty hand more
+often than he ought to have done, and guided it over the keys when it
+could have found its way very well without him.
+
+On coming to the cottage he had directed the old servant to provide
+suitable and proper clothes for Alice; but now that she was admitted “to
+sit with the gentleman,” the crone had the sense, without waiting for
+new orders, to buy the “pretty young woman” garments, still indeed
+simple, but of better materials and less rustic fashion; and Alice’s
+redundant tresses were now carefully arranged into orderly and glossy
+curls, and even the texture was no longer the same; and happiness and
+health bloomed on her downy cheeks, and smiled from the dewy lips,
+which never quite closed over the fresh white teeth, except when she was
+sad--but that seemed never, now she was not banished from Maltravers.
+
+To say nothing of the unusual grace and delicacy of Alice’s form and
+features, there is nearly always something of Nature’s own gentility
+in very young women (except, indeed, when they get together and fall
+a-giggling); it shames us men to see how much sooner they are polished
+into conventional shape than our rough, masculine angles. A vulgar boy
+requires Heaven knows what assiduity to make three steps--I do not say
+like a gentleman, but like a body that has a soul in it; but give the
+least advantage of society or tuition to a peasant girl, and a hundred
+to one but she will glide into refinement before the boy can make a
+bow without upsetting the table. There is sentiment in all women, and
+sentiment gives delicacy to thought, and tact to manner. But sentiment
+with men is generally acquired, an offspring of the intellectual
+quality, not, as with the other sex, of the moral.
+
+In the course of his musical and vocal lessons, Maltravers gently took
+the occasion to correct poor Alice’s frequent offences against grammar
+and accent: and her memory was prodigiously quick and retentive. The
+very tones of her voice seemed altered in the ear of Maltravers; and,
+somehow or other, the time came when he was no longer sensible of the
+difference in their rank.
+
+The old woman-servant, when she had seen how it would be from the
+first, and taken a pride in her own prophecy, as she ordered Alice’s new
+dresses, was a much better philosopher than Maltravers; though he was
+already up to his ears in the moonlit abyss of Plato, and had filled a
+dozen commonplace books with criticisms on Kant.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+ “Young man, I fear thy blood is rosy red,
+  Thy heart is soft.”
+    D’AGUILAR’S _Fiesco_, Act iii. Sc. 1.
+
+As education does not consist in reading and writing only, so Alice,
+while still very backward in those elementary arts, forestalled some of
+their maturest results in her intercourse with Maltravers. Before the
+inoculation took effect, she caught knowledge in the natural way. For
+the refinement of a graceful mind and a happy manner is very contagious.
+And Maltravers was encouraged by her quickness in music to attempt
+such instruction in other studies as conversation could afford. It is a
+better school than parents and masters think for: there was a time when
+all information was given orally; and probably the Athenians learned
+more from hearing Aristotle than we do from reading him. It was a
+delicious revival of Academe--in the walks, or beneath the rustic
+porticoes of that little cottage--the romantic philosopher and the
+beautiful disciple! And his talk was much like that of a sage of the
+early world, with some wistful and earnest savage for a listener: of the
+stars and their courses--of beasts, and birds, and fishes, and plants,
+and flowers--the wide family of Nature--of the beneficence and power of
+God;--of the mystic and spiritual history of Man.
+
+Charmed by her attention and docility, Maltravers at length diverged
+from lore into poetry; he would repeat to her the simplest and most
+natural passages he could remember in his favourite poets; he would
+himself compose verses elaborately adapted to her understanding; she
+liked the last the best, and learned them the easiest. Never had young
+poet a more gracious inspiration, and never did this inharmonious world
+more complacently resolve itself into soft dreams, as if to humour
+the novitiate of the victims it must speedily take into its joyless
+priesthood. And Alice had now quietly and insensibly carved out her own
+avocations--the tenor of her service. The plants in the conservatory
+had passed under her care, and no one else was privileged to touch
+Maltravers’s books, or arrange the sacred litter of a student’s
+apartment. When he came down in the morning, or returned from his walks,
+everything was in order, yet, by a kind of magic, just as he wished it;
+the flowers he loved best bloomed, fresh-gathered, on his table; the
+very position of the large chair, just in that corner by the fireplace,
+whence, on entering the roof, its hospitable arms opened with the most
+cordial air of welcome, bespoke the presiding genius of a woman; and
+then, precisely as the clock struck eight, Alice entered, so pretty and
+smiling, and happy-looking, that it was no wonder the single hour at
+first allotted to her extended into three.
+
+Was Alice in love with Maltravers?--she certainly did not exhibit
+the symptoms in the ordinary way--she did not grow more reserved, and
+agitated, and timid--there was no worm in the bud of her damask check:
+nay, though from the first she had been tolerably bold; she was more
+free and confidential, more at her ease every day; in fact, she never
+for a moment suspected that she ought to be otherwise; she had not the
+conventional and sensitive delicacy of girls who, whatever their rank of
+life, have been taught that there is a mystery and a peril in love; she
+had a vague idea about girls going wrong, but she did not know that love
+had anything to do with it; on the contrary, according to her father,
+it had connection with money, not love; all that she felt was so natural
+and so very sinless. Could she help being so delighted to listen to
+him, and so grieved to depart? What thus she felt she expressed, no less
+simply and no less guilelessly: candour sometimes completely blinded and
+misled him. No, she could not be in love, or she could not so frankly
+own that she loved him--it was a sisterly and grateful sentiment.
+
+“The dear girl--I am rejoiced to think so,” said Maltravers to himself;
+“I knew there would be no danger.”
+
+Was he not in love himself?--The reader must decide.
+
+“Alice,” said Maltravers, one evening after a long pause of thought and
+abstraction on his side, while she was unconsciously practising her last
+lesson on the piano--“Alice,--no, don’t turn round--sit where you are,
+but listen to me. We cannot live always in this way.”
+
+Alice was instantly disobedient--she did turn round, and those great
+blue eyes were fixed on his own with such anxiety and alarm, that he had
+no resource but to get up and look round for the meerschaum. But Alice,
+who divined by an instinct his lightest wish, brought it to him, while
+he was yet hunting, amidst the further corners of the room, in places
+where it was certain not to be. There it was, already filled with the
+fragrant Salonica glittering with the gilt pastile, which, not too
+healthfully, adulterates the seductive weed with odours that pacify the
+repugnant censure of the fastidious--for Maltravers was an epicurean
+even in his worst habits;--there it was, I say, in that pretty hand
+which he had to touch as he took it; and while he lit the weed he had
+again to blush and shrink beneath those great blue eyes.
+
+“Thank you, Alice,” he said; “thank you. Do sit down there--out of the
+draught. I am going to open the window, the night is so lovely.”
+
+He opened the casement overgrown with creepers, and the moonlight lay
+fair and breathless upon the smooth lawn. The calm and holiness of the
+night soothed and elevated his thoughts; he had cut himself off from the
+eyes of Alice, and he proceeded with a firm, though gentle voice:
+
+“My dear Alice, we cannot always live together in this way; you are now
+wise enough to understand me, so listen patiently. A young woman never
+wants a fortune so long as she has a good character; she is always poor
+and despised without one. Now a good character in this world is lost
+as much by imprudence as guilt; and if you were to live with me much
+longer, it would be imprudent, and your character would suffer so much
+that you would not be able to make your own way in the world; far, then,
+from doing you a service, I should have done you a deadly injury, which
+I could not atone for: besides, Heaven knows what may happen worse than
+imprudence; for, I am very sorry to say,” added Maltravers, with great
+gravity, “that you are much too pretty and engaging to--to--in short, it
+won’t do. I must go home; my friends will have a right to complain of me
+if I remain thus lost to them many weeks longer. And you, my dear Alice,
+are now sufficiently advanced to receive better instruction than I
+or Mr. Simcox can give you. I therefore propose to place you in some
+respectable family, where you will have more comfort and a higher
+station than you have here. You can finish your education, and, instead
+of being taught, you will be thus enabled to become a teacher to others.
+With your beauty, Alice” (and Maltravers sighed), “and natural talents,
+and amiable temper, you have only to act well and prudently to secure at
+last a worthy husband and a happy home. Have you heard me, Alice? Such
+is the plan I have formed for you.”
+
+The young man thought as he spoke, with honest kindness and upright
+honour; it was a bitterer sacrifice than perhaps the reader thinks for.
+But Maltravers, if he had an impassioned, had not a selfish heart; and
+he felt, to use his own expression, more emphatic than eloquent, that
+“it would not do” to live any longer alone with this beautiful girl,
+like the two children whom the good Fairy kept safe from sin and the
+world in the Pavilion of Roses.
+
+But Alice comprehended neither the danger to herself nor the temptations
+that Maltravers, if he could not resist, desired to shun. She rose, pale
+and trembling--approached Maltravers and laid her hand gently on his
+arm.
+
+“I will go away, when and where you wish--the sooner the
+better--to-morrow--yes, to-morrow; you are ashamed of poor Alice; and
+it has been very silly in me to be so happy.” (She struggled with her
+emotion for a moment, and went on.) “You know Heaven can hear me, even
+when I am away from you, and when I know more I can pray better; and
+Heaven will bless you, sir, and make you happy, for I never can pray for
+anything else.”
+
+With these words she turned away, and walked proudly towards the door.
+But when she reached the threshold, she stopped and looked round, as
+if to take a last farewell. All the associations and memories of that
+beloved spot rushed upon her--she gasped for breath,--tottered,--and
+fell to the ground insensible.
+
+Maltravers was already by her side; he lifted her light weight in his
+arms; he uttered wild and impassioned exclamations--“Alice, beloved
+Alice--forgive me; we will never part!” He chafed her hands in his own,
+while her head lay on his bosom, and he kissed again and again those
+beautiful eyelids, till they opened slowly upon him, and the tender arms
+tightened round him involuntarily.
+
+“Alice,” he whispered--“Alice, dear Alice, I love thee.” Alas, it was
+true: he loved--and forgot all but that love. He was eighteen.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+ “How like a younker or a prodigal,
+  The scarfed bark puts from her native bay!”
+    _Merchant of Venice_.
+
+WE are apt to connect the voice of Conscience with the stillness of
+midnight. But I think we wrong that innocent hour. It is that terrible
+“NEXT MORNING,” when reason is wide awake, upon which remorse fastens
+its fangs. Has a man gambled away his all, or shot his friend in a
+duel--has he committed a crime or incurred a laugh--it is the _next
+morning_, when the irretrievable Past rises before him like a spectre;
+then doth the churchyard of memory yield up its grisly dead--then is the
+witching hour when the foul fiend within us can least tempt perhaps, but
+most torment. At night we have one thing to hope for, one refuge to fly
+to--oblivion and sleep! But at morning, sleep is over, and we are called
+upon coldly to review, and re-act, and live again the waking bitterness
+of self-reproach. Maltravers rose a penitent and unhappy man--remorse
+was new to him, and he felt as if he had committed a treacherous and
+fraudulent as well as guilty deed. This poor girl, she was so innocent,
+so confiding, so unprotected, even by her own sense of right. He went
+down-stairs listless and dispirited. He longed yet dreaded to encounter
+Alice. He heard her step in the conservatory--paused, irresolute, and at
+length joined her. For the first time she blushed and trembled, and her
+eyes shunned his. But when he kissed her hand in silence, she whispered,
+“And am I now to leave you?” And Maltravers answered fervently, “Never!”
+ and then her face grew so radiant with joy that Maltravers was comforted
+despite himself. Alice knew no remorse, though she felt agitated and
+ashamed; as she had not comprehended the danger, neither was she aware
+of the fall. In fact, she never thought of herself. Her whole soul was
+with him; she gave him back in love the spirit she had caught from him
+in knowledge.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+And they strolled together through the garden all that day, and
+Maltravers grew reconciled to himself. He had done wrong, it is true;
+but then perhaps Alice had already suffered as much as she could in the
+world’s opinion, by living with him alone, though innocent, so long.
+And now she had an everlasting claim to his protection--she should never
+know shame or want. And the love that had led to the wrong should, by
+fidelity and devotion, take from it the character of sin.
+
+Natural and commonplace sophistries! _L’homme se pique!_ as old
+Montaigne said; Man is his own sharper! The conscience is the most
+elastic material in the world. To-day you cannot stretch it over a
+mole-hill, to-morrow it hides a mountain.
+
+O how happy they were now--that young pair! How the days flew like
+dreams! Time went on, winter passed away, and the early spring, with its
+flowers and sunshine, was like a mirror to their own youth. Alice never
+accompanied Maltravers in his walks abroad, partly because she feared to
+meet her father, and partly because Maltravers himself was fastidiously
+averse to all publicity. But then they had all that little world of
+three acres--lawn and fountain, shrubbery and terrace, to themselves,
+and Alice never asked if there was any other world without. She was now
+quite a scholar, as Mr. Simcox himself averred. She could read aloud
+and fluently to Maltravers, and copied out his poetry in a small,
+fluctuating hand, and he had no longer to chase throughout his
+vocabulary for short Saxon monosyllables to make the bridge of
+intercourse between their ideas. Eros and Psyche are ever united, and
+Love opens all the petals of the soul. On one subject alone, Maltravers
+was less eloquent than of yore. He had not succeeded as a moralist, and
+he thought it hypocritical to preach what he did not practise. But Alice
+was gentler and purer, and as far as she knew, sweet fool! better than
+ever--she had invented a new prayer for herself; and she prayed as
+regularly and as fervently as if she were doing nothing amiss. But the
+code of Heaven is gentler than that of earth, and does not declare that
+ignorance excuseth not the crime.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+ “Some clouds sweep on as vultures for their prey.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+  No azure more shall robe the firmament,
+  Nor spangled stars be glorious.”
+    BYRON, _Heaven and Earth_.
+
+IT was a lovely evening in April, the weather was unusually mild and
+serene for the time of year, in the northern districts of our isle, and
+the bright drops of a recent shower sparkled upon the buds of the lilac
+and laburnum that clustered round the cottage of Maltravers. The little
+fountain that played in the centre of a circular basin, on whose clear
+surface the broad-leaved water-lily cast its fairy shadow, added to the
+fresh green of the lawn;
+
+ “And softe as velvet the yonge grass,”
+
+on which the rare and early flowers were closing their heavy lids. That
+twilight shower had given a racy and vigorous sweetness to the air
+which stole over many a bank of violets, and slightly stirred the golden
+ringlets of Alice as she sate by the side of her entranced and silent
+lover. They were seated on a rustic bench just without the cottage, and
+the open window behind them admitted the view of that happy room--with
+its litter of books and musical instruments--eloquent of the POETRY of
+HOME.
+
+Maltravers was silent, for his flexile and excitable fancy was conjuring
+up a thousand shapes along the transparent air, or upon those shadowy
+violet banks. He was not thinking, he was imagining. His genius reposed
+dreamily upon the calm, but exquisite sense of his happiness. Alice
+was not absolutely in his thoughts, but unconsciously she coloured them
+all--if she had left his side, the whole charm would have been broken.
+But Alice, who was not a poet or a genius, _was_ thinking, and thinking
+only of Maltravers.... His image was “the broken mirror” multiplied in a
+thousand faithful fragments over everything fair and soft in that lovely
+microcosm before her. But they were both alike in one thing--they were
+not with the Future, they were sensible of the Present--the sense of the
+actual life, the enjoyment of the breathing time was strong within them.
+Such is the privilege of the extremes of our existence--Youth and Age.
+Middle life is never with to-day, its home is in to-morrow... anxious,
+and scheming, and desiring, and wishing this plot ripened, and that hope
+fulfilled, while every wave of the forgotten Time brings it nearer and
+nearer to the end of all things. Half our life is consumed in longing to
+be nearer death.
+
+“Alice,” said Maltravers, waking at last from his reverie, and drawing
+that light, childlike form nearer to him, “you enjoy this hour as much
+as I do.”
+
+“Oh, much more!”
+
+“More! and why so?”
+
+“Because I am thinking of you, and perhaps you are not thinking of
+yourself.”
+
+Maltravers smiled and stroked those beautiful ringlets, and kissed that
+smooth, innocent forehead, and Alice nestled herself in his breast.
+
+“How young you look by this light, Alice!” said he, tenderly looking
+down.
+
+“Would you love me less if I were old?” asked Alice.
+
+“I suppose I should never have loved you in the same way if you had been
+old when I first saw you.”
+
+“Yet I am sure I should have felt the same for you if you had been--oh!
+ever so old!”
+
+“What, with wrinkled cheeks, and palsied head, and a brown wig, and no
+teeth, like Mr. Simcox?”
+
+“Oh, but you could never be like that! You would always look young--your
+heart would be always in your face. That clear smile--ah, you would look
+beautiful to the last!”
+
+“But Simcox, though not very lovely now, has been, I dare say, handsomer
+than I am, Alice; and I shall be contented to look as well when I am as
+old!”
+
+“I should never know you were old, because I can see you just as I
+please. Sometimes, when you are thoughtful, your brows meet, and you
+look so stern that I tremble; but then I think of you when you last
+smiled, and look up again, and though you are frowning still, you seem
+to smile. I am sure you are different to other eyes than to mine... and
+time must kill _me_ before, in my sight, it could alter _you_.”
+
+“Sweet Alice, you talk eloquently, for you talk love.”
+
+“My heart talks to you. Ah! I wish it could say all I felt. I wish it
+could make poetry like you, or that words were music--I would never
+speak to you in anything else. I was so delighted to learn music,
+because when I played I seemed to be talking to you. I am sure that
+whoever invented music did it because he loved dearly and wanted to say
+so. I said ‘_he_,’ but I think it was a woman. Was it?”
+
+“The Greeks I told you of, and whose life was music, thought it was a
+god.”
+
+“Ah, but you say the Greeks made Love a god. Were they wicked for it?”
+
+“Our own God above is Love,” said Ernest, seriously, “as our own poets
+have said and sung. But it is a love of another nature--divine, not
+human. Come, we will go within, the air grows cold for you.”
+
+They entered, his arm round her waist. The room smiled upon them its
+quiet welcome; and Alice, whose heart had not half vented its fulness,
+sat down to the instrument still to “talk love” in her own way.
+
+But it was Saturday evening. Now every Saturday, Maltravers received
+from the neighbouring town the provincial newspaper--it was his only
+medium of communication with the great world. But it was not for that
+communication that he always seized it with avidity, and fed on it with
+interest. The county in which his father resided bordered on the shire
+in which Ernest sojourned, and the paper included the news of that
+familiar district in its comprehensive columns. It therefore satisfied
+Ernest’s conscience and soothed his filial anxieties to read from time
+to time that “Mr. Maltravers was entertaining a distinguished party of
+friends at his noble mansion of Lisle Court;” or that “Mr. Maltravers’s
+foxhounds had met on such a day at something copse;” or that, “Mr.
+Maltravers, with his usual munificence, had subscribed twenty guineas
+to the new county gaol.”... And as now Maltravers saw the expected paper
+laid beside the hissing urn, he seized it eagerly, tore the envelope,
+and hastened to the well-known corner appropriated to the paternal
+district. The very first words that struck his eye were these:
+
+
+   ALARMING ILLNESS OF MR. MALTRAVERS.
+
+“We regret to state that this exemplary and distinguished gentleman was
+suddenly seized on Wednesday night with a severe spasmodic affection.
+Dr. ------ was immediately sent for, who pronounced it to be gout in the
+stomach. The first medical assistance from London has been summoned.
+
+“Postscript.--We have just learned, in answer to our inquiries at Lisle
+Court, that the respected owner is considerably worse: but slight hopes
+are entertained of his recovery. Captain Maltravers, his eldest son and
+heir, is at Lisle Court. An express has been despatched in search of
+Mr. Ernest Maltravers, who, involved by his high English spirit in some
+dispute with the authorities of a despotic government, had suddenly
+disappeared from Gottingen, where his extraordinary talents had highly
+distinguished him. He is supposed to be staying at Paris.”
+
+
+The paper dropped on the floor. Ernest threw himself back on the chair,
+and covered his face with his hands.
+
+Alice was beside him in a moment. He looked up, and caught her wistful
+and terrified gaze. “Oh, Alice!” he cried, bitterly, and almost pushing
+her away, “if you could but guess my remorse!” Then springing on his
+feet, he hurried from the room.
+
+Presently the whole house was in commotion. The gardener, who was always
+in the house about supper-time, flew to the town for post-horses. The
+old woman was in despair about the laundress, for her first and only
+thought was for “master’s shirts.” Ernest locked himself in his room.
+Alice! poor Alice!
+
+In little more than twenty minutes, the chaise was at the door: and
+Ernest, pale as death, came into the room where he had left Alice.
+
+She was seated on the floor, and the fatal paper was on her lap. She
+had been endeavouring, in vain, to learn what had so sensibly affected
+Maltravers, for, as I said before, she was unacquainted with his real
+name, and therefore the ominous paragraph did not even arrest her eye.
+
+He took the paper from her, for he wanted again and again to read it:
+some little word of hope or encouragement must have escaped him. And
+then Alice flung herself on his breast. “Do not weep,” said he; “Heaven
+knows I have sorrow enough of my own! My father is dying! So kind, so
+generous, so indulgent! O God, forgive me! Compose yourself, Alice. You
+will hear from me in a day or two.”
+
+He kissed her, but the kiss was cold and forced. He hurried away. She
+heard the wheels grate on the pebbles. She rushed to the window; but
+that beloved face was not visible. Maltravers had drawn the blinds, and
+thrown himself back to indulge his grief. A moment more, and even the
+vehicle that bore him away was gone. And before her were the flowers,
+and the starlit lawn, and the playful fountain, and the bench where they
+had sat in such heartfelt and serene delight. He was gone; and often,
+oh, how often, did Alice remember that his last words had been uttered
+in estranged tones--that his last embrace had been without love!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+    “Thy due from me
+  Is tears: and heavy sorrows of the blood,
+  Which nature, love, and filial tenderness
+  Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously!”
+    _Second Part of Henry IV._, Act iv. Sc. 4.
+
+IT was late at night when the chaise that bore Maltravers stopped at the
+gates of a park lodge. It seemed an age before the peasant within was
+aroused from the deep sleep of labour-loving health. “My father,” he
+cried, while the gate creaked on its hinges; “my father--is he better?
+Is he alive?”
+
+“Oh, bless your heart, Master Ernest, the squire was a little better
+this evening.”
+
+“Thank Heaven!--On--on!”
+
+The horses smoked and galloped along a road that wound through venerable
+and ancient groves. The moonlight slept soft upon the sward, and the
+cattle, disturbed from their sleep, rose lazily up, and gazed upon the
+unseasonable intruder.
+
+It is a wild and weird scene, one of those noble English parks at
+midnight, with its rough forest-ground broken into dell and valley, its
+never-innovated and mossy grass, overrun with fern, and its immemorial
+trees, that have looked upon the birth, and look yet upon the graves,
+of a hundred generations. Such spots are the last proud and melancholy
+trace of Norman knighthood and old romance left to the laughing
+landscapes of cultivated England. They always throw something of shadow
+and solemn gloom upon minds that feels their associations, like that
+which belongs to some ancient and holy edifice. They are the cathedral
+aisles of Nature with their darkened vistas, and columned trunks, and
+arches of mighty foliage. But in ordinary times the gloom is pleasing,
+and more delightful than all the cheerful lawns and sunny slopes of the
+modern taste. _Now_ to Maltravers it was ominous and oppressive: the
+darkness of death seemed brooding in every shadow, and its warning voice
+moaning in every breeze.
+
+The wheels stopped again. Lights flitted across the basement story; and
+one above, more dim than the rest, shone palely from the room in which
+the sick man slept. The bell rang shrilly out from amidst the dark ivy
+that clung around the porch. The heavy door swung back--Maltravers was
+on the threshold. His father lived--was better--was awake. The son was
+in the father’s arms.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+    “The guardian oak
+  Mourn’d o’er the roof it shelter’d: the thick air
+  Labour’d with doleful sounds.”
+    ELLIOTT of _Sheffield_.
+
+MANY days had passed, and Alice was still alone; but she had heard twice
+from Maltravers. The letters were short and hurried. One time his father
+was better, and there were hopes; another time, and it was not expected
+that he could survive the week. They were the first letters Alice had
+ever received from him. Those _first_ letters are an event in a girl’s
+life--in Alice’s life they were a very melancholy one. Ernest did not
+ask her to write to him; in fact, he felt, at such an hour, a repugnance
+to disclose his real name, and receive the letters of clandestine love
+in the house in which a father lay in death. He might have given the
+feigned address he had previously assumed, at some distant post-town,
+where his person was not known. But, then, to obtain such letters, he
+must quit his father’s side for hours. The thing was impossible. These
+difficulties Maltravers did not explain to Alice.
+
+She thought it singular he did not wish to hear from her; but Alice
+was humble. What could she say worth troubling him with, and at such an
+hour? But how kind in him to write! how precious those letters! and
+yet they disappointed her, and cost her floods of tears: they were so
+short--so full of sorrow--there was so little love in them; and “dear,”
+ or even “_dearest_ Alice,” that uttered by the voice was so tender,
+looked cold upon the lifeless paper. If she but knew the exact spot
+where he was it would be some comfort; but she only knew that he was
+away, and in grief; and though he was little more than thirty miles
+distant, she felt as if immeasurable space divided them. However, she
+consoled herself as she could; and strove to shorten the long miserable
+day by playing over all the airs he liked, and reading all the passages
+he had commended. She should be so improved when he returned; and how
+lovely the garden would look; for every day its trees and bouquets
+caught a new smile from the deepening spring. Oh, they would be so happy
+once more! Alice _now_ learned the life that lies in the future; and her
+young heart had not, as yet, been taught that of that future there is
+any prophet but Hope!
+
+Maltravers, on quitting the cottage, had forgotten that Alice was
+without money, and now that he found his stay would be indefinitely
+prolonged, he sent a remittance. Several bills were unpaid--some portion
+of the rent was due; and Alice, as she was desired, intrusted the old
+servant with a bank note, with which she was to discharge these petty
+debts. One evening, as she brought Alice the surplus, the good dame
+seemed greatly discomposed. She was pale and agitated; or, as she
+expressed it, “had a terrible fit of the shakes.”
+
+“What is the matter, Mrs. Jones? you have no news of him--of--of my--of
+your master?”
+
+“Dear heart, miss--no,” answered Mrs. Jones; “how should I? But I’m sure
+I don’t wish to frighten you; there has been two sich robberies in the
+neighbourhood!”
+
+“Oh, thank Heaven that’s all!” exclaimed Alice.
+
+“Oh, don’t go for to thank Heaven for that, miss; it’s a shocking thing
+for two lone females like us, and them ‘ere windows all open to
+the ground! You sees, as I was taking the note to be changed at Mr.
+Harris’s, the great grocer’s shop, where all the poor folk was a-buying
+agin to-morrow” (for it was Saturday night, the second Saturday after
+Ernest’s departure; from that Hegira Alice dated all her chronology),
+“and everybody was a-talking about the robberies last night. La, miss,
+they bound old Betty--you know Betty--a most respectable ‘oman, who
+has known sorrows, and drinks tea with me once a week. Well, miss, they
+(only think!) bound Betty to the bedpost, with nothing on her but her
+shift--poor old soul! And as Mr. Harris gave me the change (please to
+see, miss, it’s all right), and I asked for half gould, miss, it’s more
+convenient, sich an ill-looking fellow was by me, a-buying o’ baccy, and
+he did so stare at the money, that I vows I thought he’d have rin away
+with it from the counter; so I grabbled it up and went away. But, would
+you believe, miss, just as I got into the lane, afore you turns through
+the gate, I chanced to look back, and there, sure enough, was that ugly
+fellow close behind, a-running like mad. Oh, I set up such a screetch;
+and young Dobbins was a-taking his cow out of the field, and he perked
+up over the hedge when he heard me; and the cow, too, with her horns,
+Lord bless her! So the fellow stopped, and I bustled through the gate,
+and got home. But la, miss, if we are all robbed and murdered?”
+
+Alice had not heard much of this harangue; but what she did hear very
+slightly affected her strong, peasant-born nerves; not half so much
+indeed, as the noise Mrs. Jones made in double-locking all the doors,
+and barring, as well as a peg and a rusty inch of chain would allow, all
+the windows--which operation occupied at least an hour and a half.
+
+All at last was still. Mrs. Jones had gone to bed--in the arms of
+sleep she had forgotten her terrors--and Alice had crept up-stairs, and
+undressed, and said her prayers, and wept a little; and, with the tears
+yet moist upon her dark eyelashes, had glided into dreams of Ernest.
+Midnight was passed--the stroke of one sounded unheard from the clock
+at the foot of the stars. The moon was gone--a slow, drizzling rain was
+falling upon the flowers, and cloud and darkness gathered fast and thick
+around the sky.
+
+About this time, a low, regular, grating sound commenced at the thin
+shutters of the sitting-room below, preceded by a very faint noise,
+like the tinkling of small fragments of glass on the gravel without. At
+length it ceased, and the cautious and partial gleam of a lanthorn fell
+along the floor; another moment, and two men stood in the room.
+
+“Hush, Jack!” whispered one: “hang out the glim, and let’s look about
+us.”
+
+The dark-lanthorn, now fairly unmuffled, presented to the gaze of the
+robbers nothing that could gratify their cupidity.
+
+Books and music, chairs, tables, carpet, and fire-irons, though valuable
+enough in a house-agent’s inventory, are worthless to the eyes of a
+housebreaker. They muttered a mutual curse.
+
+“Jack,” said the former speaker, “we must make a dash at the spoons
+and forks, and then hey for the money. The old girl had thirty shiners,
+besides flimsies.”
+
+The accomplice nodded consent; the lanthorn was again partially shaded,
+and with noiseless and stealthy steps the men quitted the apartment.
+Several minutes elapsed, when Alice was awakened from her slumber by a
+loud scream she started, all was again silent: she must have dreamt it:
+her little heart beat violently at first, but gradually regained its
+tenor. She rose, however, and the kindness of her nature being more
+susceptible than her fear, she imagined Mrs. Jones might be ill--she
+would go to her. With this idea she began partially dressing herself,
+when she distinctly heard heavy footsteps and a strange voice in the
+room beyond. She was now thoroughly alarmed--her first impulse was to
+escape from the house--her next to bolt the door, and call aloud for
+assistance. But who would hear her cries? Between the two purposes, she
+halted irresolute... and remained, pale and trembling, seated at the
+foot of the bed, when a broad light streamed through the chinks of the
+door--an instant more, and a rude hand seized her.
+
+“Come, mem, don’t be fritted, we won’t harm you; but where’s the
+gold-dust--where’s the money?--the old girl says you’ve got it. Fork it
+over.”
+
+“O mercy, mercy! John Walters, is that you?”
+
+“Damnation!” muttered the man, staggering back; “so you knows me then;
+but you sha’n’t peach; you sha’n’t scrag me, b---t you.”
+
+While he spoke, he again seized Alice, held her forcibly down with one
+hand, while with the other he deliberately drew from a side pouch a long
+case-knife. In that moment of deadly peril, the second ruffian, who had
+been hitherto delayed in securing the servant, rushed forward. He had
+heard the exclamation of Alice, he heard the threat of his comrade; he
+darted to the bedside, cast a hurried gaze upon Alice, and hurled the
+intended murderer to the other side of the room.
+
+“What, man, art mad?” he growled between his teeth. “Don’t you know her?
+It is Alice;--it is my daughter.”
+
+Alice had sprung up when released from the murderer’s knife, and now,
+with eyes strained and starting with horror, gazed upon the dark and
+evil face of her deliverer.
+
+“O God, it is--it is my father!” she muttered, and fell senseless.
+
+“Daughter or no daughter,” said John Walters, “I shall not put my scrag
+in her power; recollect how she fritted us before, when she run away.”
+
+Darvil stood thoughtful and perplexed; and his associate approached
+doggedly with a look of such settled ferocity as it was impossible for
+even Darvil to contemplate without a shudder.
+
+“You say right,” muttered the father, after a pause, but fixing his
+strong gripe on his comrade’s shoulder,--“the girl must not be left
+here--the cart has a covering. We are leaving the country; I have
+a right to my daughter--she shall go with us. There, man, grab the
+money--it’s on the table;.... you’ve got the spoons. Now then--” as
+Darvil spoke he seized his daughter in his arms; threw over her a shawl
+and a cloak that lay at hand, and was already on the threshold.
+
+“I don’t half like it,” said Walters, grumblingly--“it been’t safe.”
+
+“At least it is as safe as murder!” answered Darvil, turning round, with
+a ghastly grin. “Make haste.”
+
+When Alice recovered her senses, the dawn was breaking slowly along
+desolate and sullen hills. She was lying upon rough straw--the cart was
+jolting over the ruts of a precipitous, lonely road,--and by her side
+scowled the face of that dreadful father.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+ “Yet he beholds her with the eyes of mind--
+  He sees the form which he no more shall meet;
+  She like a passionate thought is come and gone,
+  While at his feet the bright rill bubbles on.”
+    ELLIOTT _of Sheffield_.
+
+IT was a little more than three weeks after that fearful night, when the
+chaise of Maltravers stopped at the cottage door--the windows were shut
+up; no one answered the repeated summons of the post-boy. Maltravers
+himself, alarmed and amazed, descended from the vehicle: he was in
+deep mourning. He went impatiently to the back entrance; that also was
+locked; round to the French windows of the drawing-room, always hitherto
+half-opened, even in the frosty days of winter,--they were now closed
+like the rest. He shouted in terror, “Alice, Alice!”--no sweet voice
+answered in breathless joy, no fairy step bounded forward in welcome.
+At this moment, however, appeared the form of the gardener coming across
+the lawn. The tale was soon told; the house had been robbed--the old
+woman at morning found gagged and fastened to her bed-post--Alice flown.
+A magistrate had been applied to,--suspicion fell upon the fugitive.
+None knew anything of her origin or name, not even the old woman.
+Maltravers had naturally and sedulously ordained Alice to preserve that
+secret, and she was too much in fear of being detected and claimed by
+her father not to obey the injunction with scrupulous caution. But it
+was known, at least, that she had entered the house a poor peasant girl;
+and what more common than for ladies of a certain description to run
+away from their lover, and take some of his property by mistake? And
+a poor girl like Alice, what else could be expected? The magistrate
+smiled, and the constables laughed. After all, it was a good joke at
+the young gentleman’s expense! Perhaps, as they had no orders from
+Maltravers, and they did not know where to find him, and thought he
+would be little inclined to prosecute, the search was not very rigorous.
+But two houses had been robbed the night before. Their owners were more
+on the alert. Suspicion fell upon a man of infamous character, John
+Walters; he had disappeared from the place. He had been last seen with
+an idle, drunken fellow, who was said to have known better days, and who
+at one time had been a skilful and well-paid mechanic, till his habits
+of theft and drunkenness threw him out of employ; and he had been since
+accused of connection with a gang of coiners--tried--and escaped from
+want of sufficient evidence against him. That man was Luke Darvil. His
+cottage was searched; but he also had fled. The trace of cart-wheels by
+the gate of Maltravers gave a faint clue to pursuit; and after an
+active search of some days, persons answering to the description of the
+suspected burglars--with a young female in their company--were tracked
+to a small inn, notorious as a resort for smugglers, by the sea-coast.
+But there every vestige of their supposed whereabouts disappeared.
+
+And all this was told to the stunned Maltravers; the garrulity of the
+gardener precluded the necessity of his own inquiries, and the name
+of Darvil explained to him all that was dark to others. And Alice
+was suspected of the basest and the blackest guilt! Obscure, beloved,
+protected as she had been, she could not escape the calumny from which
+he had hoped everlastingly to shield her. But did _he_ share that
+hateful thought? Maltravers was too generous and too enlightened.
+
+“Dog!” said he, grinding his teeth, and clenching his hands, at the
+startled menial, “dare to utter a syllable of suspicion against her, and
+I will trample the breath out of your body!”
+
+The old woman, who had vowed that for the ‘varsal world she would not
+stay in the house after such a “night of shakes,” had now learned the
+news of her master’s return, and came hobbling up to him. She arrived in
+time to hear his menace to her fellow-servant.
+
+“Ah, that’s right; give it him, your honour; bless your good
+heart!--that’s what I says. Miss rob the house! says I--Miss run away.
+Oh no--depend on it they have murdered her and buried the body.”
+
+Maltravers gasped for breath, but without uttering another word he
+re-entered the chaise and drove to the house of the magistrate. He found
+that functionary a worthy and intelligent man of the world. To him
+he confided the secret of Alice’s birth and his own. The magistrate
+concurred with him in believing that Alice had been discovered
+and removed by her father. New search was made--gold was lavished.
+Maltravers himself headed the search in person. But all came to the
+same result as before, save that by the descriptions he heard of the
+person--the dress--the tears, of the young female who had accompanied
+the men supposed to be Darvil and Walters, he was satisfied that Alice
+yet lived; he hoped she might yet escape and return. In that hope he
+lingered for weeks--for months, in the neighbourhood; but time passed
+and no tidings.... He was forced at length to quit a neighbourhood
+at once so saddened and endeared. But he secured a friend in the
+magistrate, who promised to communicate with him if Alice returned, or
+her father was discovered. He enriched Mrs. Jones for life, in gratitude
+for her vindication of his lost and early love; he promised the amplest
+rewards for the smallest clue. And with a crushed and desponding spirit,
+he obeyed at last the repeated and anxious summons of the guardian to
+whose care, until his majority was attained, the young orphan was now
+entrusted.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+ “Sure there are poets that did never dream
+  Upon Parnassus.”--DENHAM.
+
+ “Walk sober off, before a sprightlier age
+  Come tittering on, and shove you from the stage.”--POPE.
+
+ “Hence to repose your trust in me was wise.”
+    DRYDEN’S _Absalom and Achitophel_.
+
+MR. FREDERICK CLEVELAND, a younger son of the Earl of Byrneham, and
+therefore entitled to the style and distinction of “Honourable,” was the
+guardian of Ernest Maltravers. He was now about the age of forty-three;
+a man of letters and a man of fashion, if the last half-obsolete
+expression be permitted to us, as being at least more classical and
+definite than any other which modern euphuism has invented to convey the
+same meaning. Highly educated, and with natural abilities considerably
+above mediocrity, Mr. Cleveland early in life had glowed with the
+ambition of an author.... He had written well and gracefully--but his
+success, though respectable, did not satisfy his aspirations. The
+fact is, that a new school of literature ruled the public, despite the
+critics--a school very different from that in which Mr. Cleveland formed
+his unimpassioned and polished periods. And as that old Earl, who in the
+time of Charles the First was the reigning wit of the court, in the time
+of Charles the Second was considered too dull even for a butt, so
+every age has its own literary stamp and coinage, and consigns the
+old circulation to its shelves and cabinets as neglected curiosities.
+Cleveland could not become the fashion with the public as an author,
+though the coteries cried him up and the reviewers adored him--and
+the ladies of quality and the amateur dilettanti bought and bound his
+volumes of careful poetry and cadenced prose. But Cleveland had high
+birth and a handsome competence--his manners were delightful, his
+conversation fluent--and his disposition was as amiable as his mind was
+cultured. He became, therefore, a man greatly sought after in society
+both respected and beloved. If he had not genius, he had great good
+sense; he did not vex his urbane temper and kindly heart with walking
+after a vain shadow, and disquieting himself in vain. Satisfied with an
+honourable and unenvied reputation, he gave up the dream of that higher
+fame which he clearly saw was denied to his aspirations--and maintained
+his good-humour with the world, though in his secret soul he thought
+it was very wrong in its literary caprices. Cleveland never married: he
+lived partly in town, but principally at Temple Grove, a villa not far
+from Richmond. Here, with an excellent library, beautiful grounds, and
+a circle of attached and admiring friends, which comprised all the more
+refined and intellectual members of what is termed, by emphasis, _Good
+Society_--this accomplished and elegant person passed a life perhaps
+much happier than he would have known had his young visions been
+fulfilled, and it had become his stormy fate to lead the rebellious and
+fierce Democracy of Letters.
+
+Cleveland was indeed, if not a man of high and original genius, at
+least very superior to the generality of patrician authors. In retiring,
+himself, from frequent exercise in the arena, he gave up his mind
+with renewed zest to the thoughts and masterpieces of others. From a
+well-read man, he became a deeply instructed one. Metaphysics, and some
+of the material sciences, added new treasures to information more light
+and miscellaneous, and contributed to impart weight and dignity to a
+mind that might otherwise have become somewhat effeminate and frivolous.
+His social habits, his clear sense, and benevolence of judgment, made
+him also an exquisite judge of all those indefinable nothings, or little
+things, that, formed into a total, become knowledge of the Great World.
+I say the Great World--for of the world without the circle of the great,
+Cleveland naturally knew but little. But of all that related to that
+subtle orbit in which gentlemen and ladies move in elevated and ethereal
+order, Cleveland was a profound philosopher. It was the mode with many
+of his admirers to style him the Horace Walpole of the day. But though
+in some of the more external and superficial points of character they
+were alike, Cleveland had considerably less cleverness, and infinitely
+more heart.
+
+The late Mr. Maltravers, a man not indeed of literary habits but an
+admirer of those who were--an elegant, high-bred, hospitable
+_seigneur de province_--had been one of the earliest of Cleveland’s
+friends--Cleveland had been his fag at Eton--and he found Hal
+Maltravers--(Handsome Hal!) had become the darling of the clubs, when he
+made his own _debut_ in society. They were inseparable for a season or
+two--and when Mr. Maltravers married, and enamoured of country pursuits,
+proud of his old hall, and sensibly enough conceiving that he was a
+greater man in his own broad lands than in the republican aristocracy
+of London, settled peaceably at Lisle Court, Cleveland corresponded with
+him regularly, and visited him twice a year. Mrs. Maltravers died in
+giving birth to Ernest, her second son. Her husband loved her tenderly,
+and was long inconsolable for her loss. He could not bear the sight
+of the child that had cost him so dear a sacrifice. Cleveland and his
+sister, Lady Julia Danvers, were residing with him at the time of this
+melancholy event; and with judicious and delicate kindness, Lady Julia
+proposed to place the unconscious offender amongst her own children for
+some months. The proposition was accepted, and it was two years before
+the infant Ernest was restored to the paternal mansion. During the
+greater part of that time, he had gone through all the events and
+revolutions of baby life under the bachelor roof of Frederick Cleveland.
+
+The result of this was, that the latter loved the child like a father.
+Ernest’s first intelligible word hailed Cleveland as “papa;” and when
+the urchin was at length deposited at Lisle Court, Cleveland talked
+all the nurses out of breath with admonitions, and cautions, and
+injunctions, and promises, and threats, which might have put many a
+careful mother to the blush. This circumstance formed a new tie between
+Cleveland and his friend. Cleveland’s visits were now three times a
+year instead of twice. Nothing was done for Ernest without Cleveland’s
+advice. He was not even breeched till Cleveland gave his grave consent.
+Cleveland chose his school, and took him to it,--and he spent a week of
+every vacation in Cleveland’s house. The boy never got into a scrape,
+or won a prize, or wanted _a tip_, or coveted a book, but what Cleveland
+was the first to know of it. Fortunately, too, Ernest manifested by
+times tastes which the graceful author thought similar to his own. He
+early developed very remarkable talents, and a love for learning--though
+these were accompanied with a vigour of life and soul--an energy--a
+daring--which gave Cleveland some uneasiness, and which did not appear
+to him at all congenial with the moody shyness of an embryo genius, or
+the regular placidity of a precocious scholar. Meanwhile the relation
+between father and son was rather a singular one. Mr. Maltravers had
+overcome his first, not unnatural, repugnance to the innocent cause of
+his irremediable loss. He was now fond and proud of his boy--as he was
+of all things that belonged to him. He spoiled and petted him even more
+than Cleveland did. But he interfered very little with his education or
+pursuits. His eldest son, Cuthbert, did not engross all his heart, but
+occupied all his care. With Cuthbert he connected the heritage of his
+ancient name, and the succession of his ancestral estates. Cuthbert
+was not a genius, nor intended to be one; he was to be an accomplished
+gentleman, and a great proprietor. The father understood Cuthbert, and
+could see clearly both his character and career. He had no scruple in
+managing his education, and forming his growing mind. But Ernest puzzled
+him. Mr. Maltravers was even a little embarrassed in the boy’s society;
+he never quite overcame that feeling of strangeness towards him which he
+had experienced when he first received him back from Cleveland, and took
+Cleveland’s directions about his health and so forth. It always seemed
+to him as if his friend shared his right to the child; and he thought
+it a sort of presumption to scold Ernest, though he very often swore
+at Cuthbert. As the younger son grew up, it certainly was evident that
+Cleveland did understand him better than his own father did; and so, as
+I have before said, on Cleveland the father was not displeased passively
+to shift the responsibility of the rearing.
+
+Perhaps Mr. Maltravers might not have been so indifferent, had Ernest’s
+prospects been those of a younger son in general. If a profession had
+been necessary for him, Mr. Maltravers would have been naturally anxious
+to see him duly fitted for it. But from a maternal relation Ernest
+inherited an estate of about four thousand pounds a year; and he was
+thus made independent of his father. This loosened another tie between
+them; and so by degrees Mr. Maltravers learned to consider Ernest less
+as his own son, to be advised or rebuked, praised or controlled, than
+as a very affectionate, promising, engaging boy, who, somehow or other,
+without any trouble on his part, was very likely to do great credit to
+his family, and indulge his eccentricities upon four thousand pounds a
+year. The first time that Mr. Maltravers was seriously perplexed about
+him was when the boy, at the age of sixteen, having taught himself
+German, and intoxicated his wild fancies with _Werter_ and _The
+Robbers_, announced his desire, which sounded very like a demand, of
+going to Gottingen instead of to Oxford. Never were Mr. Maltravers’s
+notions of a proper and gentlemanlike finish to education more
+completely and rudely assaulted. He stammered out a negative, and
+hurried to his study to write a long letter to Cleveland, who, himself
+an Oxford prize-man, would, he was persuaded, see the matter in the same
+light. Cleveland answered the letter in person: listened in silence to
+all the father had to say, and then strolled through the park with
+the young man. The result of the latter conference was, that Cleveland
+declared in favour of Ernest.
+
+“But, my dear Frederick,” said the astonished father, “I thought the boy
+was to carry off all the prizes at Oxford?”
+
+“I carried off some, Maltravers; but I don’t see what good they did me.”
+
+“Oh, Cleveland!”
+
+“I am serious.”
+
+“But it is such a very odd fancy.”
+
+“Your son is a very odd young man.”
+
+“I fear he is so--I fear he is, poor fellow! But what will he learn at
+Gottingen?”
+
+“Languages and Independence,” said Cleveland.
+
+“And the classics--the classics--you are such an excellent Grecian!”
+
+“There are great Grecians in Germany,” answered Cleveland; “and Ernest
+cannot well unlearn what he knows already. My dear Maltravers, the boy
+is not like most clever young men. He must either go through action, and
+adventure, and excitement in his own way, or he will be an idle dreamer,
+or an impracticable enthusiast all his life. Let him alone.--So Cuthbert
+is gone into the Guards?”
+
+“But he went first to Oxford.”
+
+“Humph! What a fine young man he is!”
+
+“Not so tall as Ernest, but--”
+
+“A handsome face,” said Cleveland. “He is a son to be proud of in one
+way, as I hope Ernest will be in another. Will you show me your new
+hunter?”
+
+ * * * * *
+
+It was to the house of this gentleman, so judiciously made his guardian,
+that the student of Gottingen now took his melancholy way.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+ “But if a little exercise you choose,
+   Some zest for ease, ‘tis not forbidden here;
+  Amid the groves you may indulge the Muse,
+   Or tend the blooms and deck the vernal year.”
+      _Castle of Indolence_.
+
+THE house of Mr. Cleveland was an Italian villa adapted to an English
+climate. Through an Ionic arch you entered a domain of some eighty or a
+hundred acres in extent, but so well planted and so artfully disposed,
+that you could not have supposed the unseen boundaries inclosed no
+ampler a space. The road wound through the greenest sward, in which
+trees of venerable growth were relieved by a profusion of shrubs, and
+flowers gathered into baskets intertwined with creepers, or blooming
+from classic vases, placed with a tasteful care in such spots as
+required the _filling up_, and harmonised well with the object chosen.
+Not an old ivy-grown pollard, not a modest and bending willow, but
+was brought out, as it were, into a peculiar feature by the art of the
+owner. Without being overloaded, or too minutely elaborate (the common
+fault of the rich man’s villa), the whole place seemed one diversified
+and cultivated garden; even the air almost took a different odour from
+different vegetation, with each winding of the road; and the colours of
+the flowers and foliage varied with every view.
+
+At length, when, on a lawn sloping towards a glassy lake overhung by
+limes and chestnuts, and backed by a hanging wood, the house itself came
+in sight, the whole prospect seemed suddenly to receive its finishing
+and crowning feature. The house was long and low. A deep peristyle that
+supported the roof extended the whole length, and being raised above
+the basement had the appearance of a covered terrace; broad flights
+of steps, with massive balustrades, supporting vases of aloes and
+orange-trees, led to the lawn; and under the peristyle were ranged
+statues, Roman antiquities and rare exotics. On this side the lake
+another terrace, very broad, and adorned, at long intervals, with urns
+and sculpture, contrasted the shadowy and sloping bank beyond; and
+commanded, through unexpected openings in the trees, extensive views
+of the distant landscape, with the stately Thames winding through the
+midst. The interior of the house corresponded with the taste without.
+All the principal rooms, even those appropriated to sleep, were on the
+same floor. A small but lofty and octagonal hall conducted to a suite of
+four rooms. At one extremity was a moderately-sized dining-room with
+a ceiling copied from the rich and gay colours of Guido’s “Hours;” and
+landscapes painted by Cleveland himself, with no despicable skill, were
+let into the walls. A single piece of sculpture copied from the Piping
+Faun, and tinged with a flesh-like glow by purple and orange draperies
+behind it, relieved without darkening the broad and arched window which
+formed its niche. This communicated with a small picture-room, not
+indeed rich with those immortal gems for which princes are candidates;
+for Cleveland’s fortune was but that of a private gentleman, though,
+managed with a discreet if liberal economy, it sufficed for all his
+elegant desires. But the pictures had an interest beyond that of art,
+and their subjects were within the reach of a collector of ordinary
+opulence. They made a series of portraits--some originals, some copies
+(and the copies were often the best) of Cleveland’s favourite authors.
+And it was characteristic of the man, that Pope’s worn and thoughtful
+countenance looked down from the central place of honour. Appropriately
+enough, this room led into the library, the largest room in the house,
+the only one indeed that was noticeable from its size, as well as its
+embellishments. It was nearly sixty feet in length. The bookcases were
+crowned with bronze busts, while at intervals statues, placed in open
+arches, backed with mirrors, gave the appearance of galleries, opening
+from the book-lined walls, and introduced an inconceivable air of
+classic lightness and repose into the apartment; with these arches the
+windows harmonised so well, opening on the peristyle, and bringing into
+delightful view the sculpture, the flowers, the terraces, and the lake
+without, that the actual prospects half seduced you into the belief that
+they were designs by some master-hand of the poetical gardens that yet
+crown the hills of Rome. Even the colouring of the prospects on a sunny
+day favoured the delusion, owing to the deep, rich hues of the simple
+draperies, and the stained glass of which the upper panes of the windows
+were composed. Cleveland was especially fond of sculpture; he was
+sensible, too, of the mighty impulse which that art has received in
+Europe within the last half century. He was even capable of asserting
+the doctrine, not yet sufficiently acknowledged in this country, that
+Flaxman surpassed Canova. He loved sculpture, too, not only for its own
+beauty, but for the beautifying and intellectual effect that it produces
+wherever it is admitted. It is a great mistake, he was wont to say,
+in collectors of statues, to arrange them _pele mele_ in one long
+monotonous gallery. The single relief, or statue, or bust, or simple
+urn, introduced appropriately in the smallest apartment we inhabit,
+charms us infinitely more than those gigantic museums, crowded into
+rooms never entered but for show, and without a chill, uncomfortable
+shiver. Besides, this practice of galleries, which the herd consider
+orthodox, places sculpture out of the patronage of the public. There
+are not a dozen people who can afford galleries. But very moderately
+affluent gentlemen can afford a statue or a bust. The influence, too,
+upon a man’s mind and taste, created by the constant and habitual view
+of monuments of the only imperishable art which resorts to physical
+materials, is unspeakable. Looking upon the Greek marble, we become
+acquainted, almost insensibly, with the character of the Greek life and
+literature. That Aristides, that Genius of Death, that fragment of the
+unrivalled Psyche, are worth a thousand Scaligers!
+
+“Do you ever look at the Latin translation when you read Aeschylus?”
+ said a schoolboy once to Cleveland.
+
+“That is my Latin translation,” said Cleveland, pointing to the Laocoon.
+
+The library opened at the extreme end to a small cabinet for curiosities
+and medals, which, still in a straight line, conducted to a long
+belvidere, terminating in a little circular summer-house, that, by a
+sudden wind of the lake below, hung perpendicularly over its transparent
+tide, and, seen from the distance, appeared almost suspended on air, so
+light were its slender columns and arching dome. Another door from
+the library opened upon a corridor which conducted to the principal
+sleeping-chambers; the nearest door was that of Cleveland’s private
+study communicating with his bedroom and dressing-closet. The other
+rooms were appropriated to, and named after, his several friends.
+
+Mr. Cleveland had been advised by a hasty line of the movements of his
+ward, and he received the young man with a smile of welcome, though
+his eyes were moist and his lips trembled--for the boy was like his
+father!--a new generation had commenced for Cleveland!
+
+“Welcome, my dear Ernest,” said he; “I am so glad to see you, that I
+will not scold you for your mysterious absence. This is your room, you
+see your name over the door; it is a larger one than you used to have,
+for you are a man now; and there is your German sanctum adjoining--for
+Schiller and the meerschaum!--a bad habit that, the meerschaum! but
+not worse than the Schiller, perhaps. You see you are in the peristyle
+immediately. The meerschaum is good for flowers, I fancy, so have no
+scruple. Why, my dear boy, how pale you are! Be cheered--be cheered.
+Well, I must go myself, or you will infect me.”
+
+Cleveland hurried away; he thought of his lost friend. Ernest sank upon
+the first chair, and buried his face in his hands. Cleveland’s valet
+entered, and bustled about and unpacked the portmanteau, and arranged
+the evening dress. But Ernest did not look up nor speak; the first
+bell sounded; the second tolled unheard upon his ear. He was thoroughly
+overcome by his emotions. The first notes of Cleveland’s kind voice had
+touched upon a soft chord, that months of anxiety and excitement had
+strained to anguish, but had never woke to tears. His nerves were
+shattered--those strong young nerves! He thought of his dead father when
+he first saw Cleveland; but when he glanced round the room prepared for
+him, and observed the care for his comfort, and the tender recollection
+of his most trifling peculiarities everywhere visible, Alice, the
+watchful, the humble, the loving, the lost Alice rose before him.
+Surprised at his ward’s delay, Cleveland entered the room; there sat
+Ernest still, his face buried in his hands. Cleveland drew them gently
+away, and Maltravers sobbed like an infant. It was an easy matter
+to bring tears to the eyes of that young man: a generous or a tender
+thought, an old song, the simplest air of music, sufficed for that touch
+of the mother’s nature. But the vehement and awful passion which belongs
+to manhood when thoroughly unmanned--this was the first time in which
+the relief of that stormy bitterness was known to him!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+ “Musing full sadly in his sullen mind.”--SPENSER.
+
+ “There forth issued from under the altar-smoke
+  A dreadful fiend.”--_Ibid. on Superstition_.
+
+NINE times out of ten it is over the Bridge of Sighs that we pass the
+narrow gulf from Youth to Manhood. That interval is usually occupied
+by an ill-placed or disappointed affection. We recover, and we find
+ourselves a new being. The intellect has been hardened by the fire
+through which it has passed. The mind profits by the wrecks of every
+passion, and we may measure our road to wisdom by the sorrows we have
+undergone.
+
+But Maltravers was yet on the bridge, and, for a time, both mind
+and body were prostrate and enfeebled. Cleveland had the sagacity to
+discover that the affections had their share in the change that he
+grieved to witness, but he had also the delicacy not to force himself
+into the young man’s confidence. But by little and little his kindness
+so completely penetrated the heart of his ward, that Ernest one evening
+told his whole tale. As a man of the world, Cleveland perhaps rejoiced
+that it was no worse, for he had feared some existing entanglement
+perhaps with a married woman. But as a man who was better than the
+world in general, he sympathised with the unfortunate girl whom Ernest
+pictured to him in faithful and unflattered colours, and he long forbore
+consolations which he foresaw would be unavailing. He felt, indeed,
+that Ernest was not a man “to betray the noon of manhood to a
+myrtle-shade:”--that with so sanguine, buoyant, and hardy a temperament,
+he would at length recover from a depression which, if it could bequeath
+a warning, might as well not be wholly divested of remorse. And he also
+knew that few become either great authors or great men (and he fancied
+Ernest was born to be one or the other) without the fierce emotions and
+passionate struggles, through which the Wilhelm Meister of real life
+must work out his apprenticeship, and attain the Master Rank. But at
+last he had serious misgivings about the health of his ward. A constant
+and spectral gloom seemed bearing the young man to the grave. It was
+in vain that Cleveland, who secretly desired him to thirst for a public
+career, endeavoured to arouse his ambition--the boy’s spirit seemed
+quite broken--and the visit of a political character, the mention of a
+political work, drove him at once into his solitary chamber. At length
+his mental disease took a new turn. He became, of a sudden, most
+morbidly and fanatically--I was about to say religious: but that is
+not the word; let me call it pseudo-religious. His strong sense and
+cultivated taste did not allow him to delight in the raving tracts of
+illiterate fanatics--and yet out of the benign and simple elements of
+the Scripture he conjured up for himself a fanaticism quite as gloomy
+and intense. He lost sight of God the Father, and night and day dreamed
+only of God the Avenger. His vivid imagination was perverted to raise
+out of its own abyss phantoms of colossal terror. He shuddered aghast
+at his own creations, and earth and heaven alike seemed black with
+the everlasting wrath. These symptoms completely baffled and perplexed
+Cleveland. He knew not what remedy to administer--and to his unspeakable
+grief and surprise he found that Ernest, in the true spirit of his
+strange bigotry, began to regard Cleveland--the amiable, the benevolent
+Cleveland--as one no less out of the pale of grace than himself. His
+elegant pursuits, his cheerful studies, were considered by the young but
+stern enthusiast as the miserable recreations of Mammon and the world.
+There seemed every probability that Ernest Maltravers would die in a
+madhouse or, at best, succeed to the delusions without the cheerful
+intervals of Cowper.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+ “Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit,
+  Restless--unfixed in principles and place.”--DRYDEN.
+
+ “Whoever acquires a very great number of ideas interesting to
+  the society in which he lives, will be regarded in that society
+  as a man of abilities.”--HELVETIUS.
+
+IT was just when Ernest Maltravers was so bad that he could not be worse
+that a young man visited Temple Grove. The name of this young man was
+Lumley Ferrers, his age was about twenty-six, his fortune about eight
+hundred a year--he followed no profession. Lumley Ferrers had not what
+is usually called genius; that is, he had no enthusiasm; and if the word
+talent be properly interpreted as meaning the talent of doing something
+better than others, Ferrers had not much to boast of on that score. He
+had no talent for writing, nor for music, nor painting, nor the ordinary
+round of accomplishments; neither at present had he displayed much of
+the hard and useful talent for action and business. But Ferrers had what
+is often better than either genius or talent; he had a powerful and most
+acute mind.
+
+He had, moreover, great animation of manner, high physical spirits,
+a witty, odd, racy vein of conversation, determined assurance, and
+profound confidence in his own resources. He was fond of schemes,
+stratagems, and plots--they amused and excited him--his power of
+sarcasm, and of argument, too, was great, and he usually obtained an
+astonishing influence over those with whom he was brought in contact.
+His high spirits and a most happy frankness of bearing carried off and
+disguised his leading vices of character, which were callousness to
+whatever was affectionate and insensibility to whatever was moral.
+Though less learned than Maltravers, he was on the whole a very
+instructed man. He mastered the surfaces of many sciences, became
+satisfied of their general principles, and threw the study aside never
+to be forgotten (for his memory was like a vice), but never to be
+prosecuted any further. To this he added a general acquaintance with
+whatever is most generally acknowledged as standard in ancient or modern
+literature. What is admired only by a few, Lumley never took the trouble
+to read. Living amongst trifles, he made them interesting and novel
+by his mode of viewing and treating them. And here indeed was _a_
+talent--it was the talent of social life--the talent of enjoyment to the
+utmost with the least degree of trouble to himself. Lumley Ferrers was
+thus exactly one of those men whom everybody calls exceedingly clever,
+and yet it would puzzle one to say in what he was so clever. It was,
+indeed, that nameless power which belongs to ability, and which makes
+one man superior, on the whole, to another, though in many details by
+no means remarkable. I think it is Goethe who says somewhere that, in
+reading the life of the greatest genius, we always find that he was
+acquainted with some men superior to himself, who yet never attained to
+general distinction. To the class of these mystical superior men Lumley
+Ferrers might have belonged; for though an ordinary journalist would
+have beaten him in the arts of composition, few men of genius, however
+eminent, could have felt themselves above Ferrers in the ready grasp and
+plastic vigour of natural intellect. It only remains to be said of this
+singular young man, whose character as yet was but half developed, that
+he had seen a great deal of the world, and could live at ease and in
+content with all tempers and ranks; fox-hunters or scholars, lawyers or
+poets, patricians or _parvenus_, it was all one to Lumley Ferrers.
+
+Ernest was, as usual, in his own room, when he heard, along the corridor
+without, all that indefinable bustling noise which announces an arrival.
+Next came a most ringing laugh, and then a sharp, clear, vigorous voice,
+that ran through his ears like a dagger. Ernest was immediately aroused
+to all the majesty of indignant sullenness. He walked out on the terrace
+of the portico, to avoid the repetition of the disturbance: and once
+more settled back into his broken and hypochondriacal reveries. Pacing
+to and fro that part of the peristyle which occupied the more retired
+wing of the house, with his arms folded, his eyes downcast, his brows
+knit, and all the angel darkened on that countenance which formerly
+looked as if, like truth, it could shame the devil and defy the world,
+Ernest followed the evil thought that mastered him, through the Valley
+of the Shadow. Suddenly he was aware of something--some obstacle which
+he had not previously encountered. He started, and saw before him
+a young man, of plain dress, gentlemanlike appearance, and striking
+countenance.
+
+“Mr. Maltravers, I think,” said the stranger, and Ernest recognised the
+voice that had so disturbed him: “this is lucky; we can now introduce
+ourselves, for I find Cleveland means us to be intimate. Mr. Lumley
+Ferrers, Mr. Ernest Maltravers. There now, I am the elder, so I first
+offer my hand, and grin properly. People always grin when they make a
+new acquaintance! Well, that’s settled. Which way are you walking?”
+
+Maltravers could, when he chose it, be as stately as if he had never
+been out of England. He now drew himself up in displeased astonishment;
+extricated his hand from the gripe of Ferrers, and saying, very coldly,
+“Excuse me, sir, I am busy,” stalked back to his chamber. He threw
+himself into his chair, and was presently forgetful of his late
+annoyance, when, to his inexpressible amazement and wrath, he heard
+again the sharp, clear voice close at his elbow.
+
+Ferrers had followed him through the French casement into the room.
+“You are busy, you say, my dear fellow. I want to write some letters:
+we sha’n’t interrupt each other--don’t disturb yourself:” and Ferrers
+seated himself at the writing-table, dipped a pen into the ink, arranged
+blotting-book and paper before him in due order, and was soon employed
+in covering page after page with the most rapid and hieroglyphical
+scrawl that ever engrossed a mistress or perplexed a dun.
+
+“The presuming puppy!” growled Maltravers, half audibly, but effectually
+roused from himself; and examining with some curiosity so cool an
+intruder, he was forced to own that the countenance of Ferrers was not
+that of a puppy.
+
+A forehead compact and solid as a block of granite, overhung small,
+bright, intelligent eyes of a light hazel; the features were handsome,
+yet rather too sharp and fox-like; the complexion, though not highly
+coloured, was of that hardy, healthy hue which generally betokens a
+robust constitution, and high animal spirits; the jaw was massive, and,
+to a physiognomist, betokened firmness and strength of character; but
+the lips, full and large, were those of a sensualist, and their restless
+play, an habitual half smile, spoke of gaiety and humour, though when in
+repose there was in them something furtive and sinister.
+
+Maltravers looked at him in grave silence; but when Ferrers, concluding
+his fourth letter before another man would have got through his
+first page, threw down the pen, and looked full at Maltravers, with a
+good-humoured but penetrating stare, there was something so whimsical in
+the intruder’s expression of face, and indeed in the whole scene, that
+Maltravers bit his lip to restrain a smile, the first he had known for
+weeks.
+
+“I see you read, Maltravers,” said Ferrers, carelessly turning over the
+volumes on the table. “All very right: we should begin life with books;
+they multiply the sources of employment; so does capital;--but capital
+is of no use, unless we live on the interest,--books are waste paper,
+unless we spend in action the wisdom we get from thought. Action,
+Maltravers, action; that is the life for us. At our age we have passion,
+fancy, sentiment; we can’t read them away, or scribble them away;--we
+must live upon them generously, but economically.”
+
+Maltravers was struck; the intruder was not the empty bore he had
+chosen to fancy him. He roused himself languidly to reply. “Life, _Mr._
+Ferrers--”
+
+“Stop, _mon cher_, stop; don’t call me Mister; we are to be friends; I
+hate delaying that which _must be_, even by a superfluous dissyllable;
+you are Maltravers, I am Ferrers. But you were going to talk about life.
+Suppose we _live_ a little while, instead of talking about it? It wants
+an hour to dinner; let us stroll into the grounds; I want to get an
+appetite;--besides, I like nature when there are no Swiss mountains to
+climb before one can arrive at a prospect. _Allons_!”
+
+“Excuse--” again began Maltravers, half interested, half annoyed.
+
+“I’ll be shot if I do. Come.”
+
+Ferrers gave Maltravers his hat, wound his arm into that of his new
+acquaintance, and they were on the broad terrace by the lake before
+Ernest was aware of it.
+
+How animated, how eccentric, how easy was Ferrers’ talk (for talk it
+was, rather than conversation, since he had the ball to himself); books,
+and men, and things; he tossed them about and played with them like
+shuttlecocks; and then his egotistical narrative of half a hundred
+adventures, in which he had been the hero, told so, that you laughed at
+him and laughed with him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+ “Now the bright morning star, day’s harbinger,
+  Comes dancing from the east.”--MILTON.
+
+HITHERTO Ernest had never met with any mind that had exercised a strong
+influence over his own. At home, at school, at Gottingen, everywhere,
+he had been the brilliant and wayward leader of others, persuading or
+commanding wiser and older heads than his own: even Cleveland always
+yielded to him, though not aware of it. In fact, it seldom happens that
+we are very strongly influenced by those much older than ourselves. It
+is the senior, of from two to ten years, that most seduces and enthrals
+us. He has the same pursuits--views, objects, pleasures, but more art
+and experience in them all. He goes with us in the path we are ordained
+to tread, but from which the elder generation desires to warn us off.
+There is very little influence where there is not great sympathy. It
+was now an epoch in the intellectual life of Maltravers. He met for the
+first time with a mind that controlled his own. Perhaps the physical
+state of his nerves made him less able to cope with the half-bullying,
+but thoroughly good-humoured imperiousness of Ferrers. Every day this
+stranger became more and more potential with Maltravers. Ferrers,
+who was an utter egotist, never asked his new friend to give him his
+confidence; he never cared three straws about other people’s secrets,
+unless useful to some purpose of his own. But he talked with so much
+zest about himself--about women and pleasure, and the gay, stirring life
+of cities--that the young spirit of Maltravers was roused from its dark
+lethargy without an effort of its own. The gloomy phantoms vanished
+gradually--his sense broke from its cloud--he felt once more that God
+had given the sun to light the day, and even in the midst of darkness
+had called up the host of stars.
+
+Perhaps no other person could have succeeded so speedily in curing
+Maltravers of his diseased enthusiasm: a crude or sarcastic unbeliever
+he would not have listened to; a moderate and enlightened divine he
+would have disregarded, as a worldly and cunning adjuster of laws
+celestial with customs earthly. But Lumley Ferrers, who, when he argued,
+never admitted a sentiment or a simile in reply, who wielded his plain
+iron logic like a hammer, which, though its metal seemed dull, kindled
+the ethereal spark with every stroke--Lumley Ferrers was just the man to
+resist the imagination, and convince the reason, of Maltravers; and the
+moment the matter came to argument, the cure was soon completed: for,
+however we may darken and puzzle ourselves with fancies and visions,
+and the ingenuities of fanatical mysticism, no man can mathematically or
+syllogistically contend that the world which a God made, and a Saviour
+visited, was designed to be damned.
+
+And Ernest Maltravers one night softly stole to his room and opened the
+New Testament, and read its heavenly moralities with purged eyes; and
+when he had done, he fell upon his knees, and prayed the Almighty
+to pardon the ungrateful heart that, worse than the Atheist’s, had
+confessed His existence, but denied His goodness. His sleep was sweet
+and his dreams were cheerful. Did he rise to find that the penitence
+which had shaken his reason would henceforth suffice to save his life
+from all error? Alas! remorse overstrained has too often reactions as
+dangerous; and homely Luther says well, that “the mind, like the drunken
+peasant on horseback, when propped on the one side, nods and falls on
+the other.”--All that can be said is, that there are certain crises in
+life which leave us long weaker; from which the system recovers with
+frequent revulsion and weary relapse,--but from which, looking back,
+after years have passed on, we date the foundation of strength or the
+cure of disease. It is not to mean souls that creation is darkened by a
+fear of the anger of Heaven.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+ “There are times when we are diverted out of errors, but could
+  not be preached out of them.--There are practitioners who can cure
+  us of one disorder, though, in ordinary cases, they be but poor
+  physicians--nay, dangerous quacks.”--STEPHEN MONTAGUE.
+
+LUMLEY FERRERS had one rule in life; and it was this: to make all things
+and all persons subservient to himself. And Ferrers now intended to go
+abroad for some years. He wanted a companion, for he disliked solitude:
+besides, a companion shared the expenses; and a man of eight hundred a
+year, who desires all the luxuries of life, does not despise a partner
+in the taxes to be paid for them. Ferrers, at this period, rather liked
+Ernest than not: it was convenient to choose friends from those richer
+than himself, and he resolved, when he first came to Temple Grove, that
+Ernest should be his travelling companion. This resolution formed, it
+was very easy to execute it.
+
+Maltravers was now warmly attached to his new friend, and eager for
+change. Cleveland was sorry to part with him; but he dreaded a relapse,
+if the young man were again left upon his hands. Accordingly, the
+guardian’s consent was obtained; a travelling carriage was bought, and
+fitted up with every imaginable imperial and _malle_. A Swiss (half
+valet and half courier) was engaged, one thousand a year was allowed
+to Maltravers;--and one soft and lovely morning, towards the close of
+October, Ferrers and Maltravers found themselves midway on the road to
+Dover.
+
+“How glad I am to get out of England,” said Ferrers: “it is a famous
+country for the rich; but here, eight hundred a year, without a
+profession, save that of pleasure, goes upon pepper and salt; it is a
+luxurious competence abroad.”
+
+“I think I have heard Cleveland say that you will be rich some day or
+other.”
+
+“O yes: I have what are called expectations! You must know that I have
+a kind of settlement on two stools, the Well-born and the Wealthy;
+but between two stools--you recollect the proverb! The present Lord
+Saxingham, once plain Frank Lascelles, and my father, Mr. Ferrers, were
+first cousins. Two or three relations good-naturedly died, and Frank
+Lascelles became an earl; the lands did not go with the coronet; he was
+poor, and married an heiress. The lady died; her estate was settled
+on her only child, the handsomest little girl you ever saw. Pretty
+Florence, I often wish I could look up to you! Her fortune will be
+nearly all at her own disposal, too, when she comes of age; now she is
+in the nursery, ‘eating bread and honey.’ My father, less lucky and less
+wise than his cousin, thought fit to marry a Miss Templeton--a nobody.
+The Saxingham branch of the family politely dropped the acquaintance.
+Now, my mother had a brother, a clever, plodding fellow, in what is
+called ‘business:’ he became richer and richer: but my father and mother
+died, and were never the better for it. And I came of age, and
+_worth_ (I like that expression) not a farthing more or less than this
+often-quoted eight hundred pounds a year. My rich uncle is married, but
+has no children. I am, therefore, heir-presumptive,--but he is a saint,
+and close, though ostentatious. The quarrel between Uncle Templeton
+and the Saxinghams still continues. Templeton is angry if I see the
+Saxinghams and the Saxinghams--my Lord, at least--is by no means so sure
+that I shall be Templeton’s heir as not to feel a doubt lest I should
+some day or other sponge upon his lordship for a place. Lord Saxingham
+is in the administration, you know. Somehow or other I have an equivocal
+amphibious kind of place in London society, which I don’t like; on one
+side I am a patrician connection, whom the _parvenu_ branches always
+incline lovingly to--and on the other side I am a half-dependent cadet,
+whom the noble relations look civilly shy at. Some day, when I grow
+tired of travel and idleness, I shall come back and wrestle with these
+little difficulties, conciliate my methodistical uncle, and grapple with
+my noble cousin. But now I am fit for something better than getting on
+in the world. Dry chips, not green wood, are the things for making a
+blaze! How slow this fellow drives! Hollo, you sir! get on! mind, twelve
+miles to the hour! You shall have sixpence a mile. Give me your purse,
+Maltravers; I may as well be cashier, being the elder and the wiser man;
+we can settle accounts at the end of the journey. By Jove, what a pretty
+girl!”
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II.
+
+ “He, of wide-blooming youth’s fair flower possest,
+  Owns the vain thoughts--the heart that cannot rest!”
+    SIMONIDES, _in Tit. Hum_.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ “Il y eut certainement quelque chose de singulier dans mes
+  sentimens pour cette charmante femme.” *--ROUSSEAU.
+
+* There certainly was something singular in my sentiments for this
+charming woman.
+
+IT was a brilliant ball at the Palazzo of the Austrian embassy at
+Naples: and a crowd of those loungers, whether young or old, who
+attach themselves to the reigning beauty, was gathered round Madame de
+Ventadour. Generally speaking, there is more caprice than taste in
+the election of a beauty to the Italian throne. Nothing disappoints a
+stranger more than to see for the first time the woman to whom the
+world has given the golden apple. Yet he usually falls at last into the
+popular idolatry, and passes with inconceivable rapidity from indignant
+scepticism into superstitious veneration. In fact, a thousand things
+beside mere symmetry of feature go to make up the Cytherea of the
+hour.--tact in society--the charm of manner--nameless and piquant
+brilliancy. Where the world find the Graces they proclaim the Venus.
+Few persons attain pre-eminent celebrity for anything, without some
+adventitious and extraneous circumstances which have nothing to do
+with the thing celebrated. Some qualities or some circumstances throw a
+mysterious or personal charm about them. “Is Mr. So-and-So really such
+a genius?” “Is Mrs. Such-a-One really such a beauty?” you ask
+incredulously. “Oh, yes,” is the answer. “Do you know all about him or
+her? Such a thing is said, or such a thing has happened.” The idol is
+interesting in itself, and therefore its leading and popular attribute
+is worshipped.
+
+Now Madame de Ventadour was at this time the beauty of Naples: and
+though fifty women in the room were handsomer, no one would have dared
+to say so. Even the women confessed her pre-eminence--for she was
+the most perfect dresser that even France could exhibit. And to no
+pretensions do ladies ever concede with so little demur, as those which
+depend upon that feminine art which all study, and in which few excel.
+Women never allow beauty in a face that has an odd-looking bonnet
+above it, nor will they readily allow any one to be ugly whose caps are
+unexceptionable. Madame de Ventadour had also the magic that results
+from intuitive high breeding, polished by habit to the utmost. She
+looked and moved the _grande dame_, as if Nature had been employed by
+Rank to make her so. She was descended from one of the most illustrious
+houses of France; had married at sixteen a man of equal birth, but old,
+dull, and pompous--a caricature rather than a portrait of that great
+French _noblesse_, now almost if not wholly extinct. But her virtue was
+without a blemish--some said from pride, some said from coldness. Her
+wit was keen and court-like--lively, yet subdued; for her French
+high breeding was very different from the lethargic and taciturn
+imperturbability of the English. All silent people can seem
+conventionally elegant. A groom married a rich lady; he dreaded the
+ridicule of the guests whom his new rank assembled at his table--an
+Oxford clergyman gave him this piece of advice, “Wear a black coat and
+hold your tongue!” The groom took the hint, and is always considered
+one of the most gentlemanlike fellows in the county. Conversation is the
+touchstone of the true delicacy and subtle grace which make the ideal
+of the moral mannerism of a court. And there sat Madame de Ventadour,
+a little apart from the dancers, with the silent English dandy Lord
+Taunton, exquisitely dressed and superbly tall, bolt upright behind
+her chair; and the sentimental German Baron von Schomberg, covered with
+orders, whiskered and wigged to the last hair of perfection, sighing at
+her left hand; and the French minister, shrewd, bland, and eloquent, in
+the chair at her right; and round on all sides pressed, and bowed, and
+complimented, a crowd of diplomatic secretaries and Italian princes,
+whose bank is at the gaming-table, whose estates are in their galleries,
+and who sell a picture, as English gentlemen cut down a wood, whenever
+the cards grow gloomy. The charming De Ventadour! she had attraction for
+them all! smiles for the silent, badinage for the gay, politics for the
+Frenchman, poetry for the German, the eloquence of loveliness for all!
+She was looking her best--the slightest possible tinge of rouge gave
+a glow to her transparent complexion, and lighted up those large dark
+sparkling eyes (with a latent softness beneath the sparkle) seldom seen
+but in the French--and widely distinct from the unintellectual languish
+of the Spaniard, or the full and majestic fierceness of the Italian
+gaze. Her dress of black velvet, and graceful hat with its princely
+plume, contrasted the alabaster whiteness of her arms and neck. And what
+with the eyes, the skin, the rich colouring of the complexion, the
+rosy lips and the small ivory teeth, no one would have had the cold
+hypercriticism to observe that the chin was too pointed, the mouth too
+wide, and the nose, so beautiful in the front face, was far from perfect
+in the profile.
+
+“Pray was Madame in the Strada Nuova to-day?” asked the German, with as
+much sweetness in his voice as if he had been vowing eternal love.
+
+“What else have we to do with our mornings, we women?” replied Madame de
+Ventadour. “Our life is a lounge from the cradle to the grave; and
+our afternoons are but the type of our career. A promenade and
+a crowd,--_voila tout_! We never see the world except in an open
+carriage.”
+
+“It is the pleasantest way of seeing it,” said the Frenchman, drily.
+
+“I doubt it; the worst fatigue is that which comes without exercise.”
+
+“Will you do me the honour to waltz?” said the tall English lord, who
+had a vague idea that Madame de Ventadour meant she would rather dance
+than sit still. The Frenchman smiled.
+
+“Lord Taunton enforces your own philosophy,” said the minister.
+
+Lord Taunton smiled because every one else smiled; and, besides, he had
+beautiful teeth: but he looked anxious for an answer.
+
+“Not to-night,--I seldom dance. Who is that very pretty woman? What
+lovely complexions the English have! And who,” continued Madame de
+Ventadour, without waiting for an answer to the first question, “who is
+that gentleman,--the young one I mean,--leaning against the door?”
+
+“What, with the dark moustache?” said Lord Taunton. “He is a cousin of
+mine.”
+
+“Oh, no; not Colonel Bellfield; I know him--how amusing he is!--no; the
+gentleman I mean wears no moustache.”
+
+“Oh, the tall Englishman with the bright eyes and high forehead,” said
+the French minister. “He is just arrived--from the East, I believe.”
+
+“It is a striking countenance,” said Madame de Ventadour; “there is
+something chivalrous in the turn of the head. Without doubt, Lord
+Taunton, he is ‘_noble_’?”
+
+“He is what you call ‘_noble_,’” replied Lord Taunton--“that is, what we
+call a ‘gentleman;’ his name is Maltravers. He lately came of age; and
+has, I believe, rather a good property.”
+
+“Monsieur Maltravers; only Monsieur?” repeated Madame de Ventadour.
+
+“Why,” said the French minister, “you understand that the English
+_gentilhomme_ does not require a De or a title to distinguish him from
+the _roturier_.”
+
+“I know that; but he has an air above a simple _gentilhomme_. There
+is something _great_ in his look; but it is not, I must own, the
+conventional greatness of rank: perhaps he would have looked the same
+had he been born a peasant.”
+
+“You don’t think him handsome?” said Lord Taunton, almost angrily (for
+he was one of the Beauty-men, and Beauty-men are sometimes jealous).
+
+“Handsome! I did not say that,” replied Madame de Ventadour, smiling;
+“it is rather a fine head than a handsome face. Is he clever, I
+wonder?--but all you English, milord, are well educated.”
+
+“Yes, profound--profound: we are profound, not superficial,” replied
+Lord Taunton, drawing down his wrist-bands.
+
+“Will Madame de Ventadour allow me to present to her one of my
+countrymen?” said the English minister approaching--“Mr. Maltravers.”
+
+Madame de Ventadour half smiled and half blushed, as she looked up, and
+saw bent admiringly upon her the proud and earnest countenance she had
+remarked.
+
+The introduction made--a few monosyllables exchanged. The French
+diplomatist rose and walked away with the English one. Maltravers
+succeeded to the vacant chair.
+
+“Have you been long abroad?” asked Madame de Ventadour.
+
+“Only four years; yet long enough to ask whether I should not be most
+abroad in England.”
+
+“You have been in the East--I envy you. And Greece, and Egypt,--all the
+associations! You have travelled back into the Past; you have escaped,
+as Madame D’Epinay wished, out of civilisation and into romance.”
+
+“Yet Madame D’Epinay passed her own life in making pretty romances out
+of a very agreeable civilisation,” said Maltravers, smiling.
+
+“You know her Memoirs, then,” said Madame de Ventadour, slightly
+colouring. “In the current of a more exciting literature few have had
+time for the second-rate writings of a past century.”
+
+“Are not those second-rate performances often the most charming,” said
+Maltravers, “when the mediocrity of the intellect seems almost as if it
+were the effect of a touching, though too feeble, delicacy of sentiment?
+Madame D’Epinay’s Memoirs are of this character. She was not a virtuous
+woman--but she felt virtue and loved it; she was not a woman of
+genius--but she was tremblingly alive to all the influences of genius.
+Some people seem born with the temperament and the tastes of genius
+without its creative power; they have its nervous system, but something
+is wanting in the intellectual. They feel acutely, yet express tamely.
+These persons always have in their character an unspeakable kind of
+pathos--a court civilisation produces many of them--and the French
+memoirs of the last century are particularly fraught with such examples.
+This is interesting--the struggle of sensitive minds against the
+lethargy of a society, dull, yet brilliant, that _glares_ them, as it
+were, to sleep. It comes home to us; for,” added Maltravers, with a
+slight change of voice, “how many of us fancy we see our own image in
+the mirror!”
+
+And where was the German baron?--flirting at the other end of the room.
+And the English lord?--dropping monosyllables to dandies by the doorway.
+And the minor satellites?--dancing, whispering, making love, or sipping
+lemonade. And Madame de Ventadour was alone with the young stranger in
+a crowd of eight hundred persons; and their lips spoke of sentiment, and
+their eyes involuntarily applied it!
+
+While they were thus conversing, Maltravers was suddenly startled by
+hearing close behind him, a sharp, significant voice, saying in French,
+“Hein, hein! I’ve my suspicions--I’ve my suspicions.”
+
+Madame de Ventadour looked round with a smile. “It is only my husband,”
+ said she, quietly; “let me introduce him to you.”
+
+Maltravers rose and bowed to a little thin man, most elaborately
+dressed, and with an immense pair of spectacles upon a long sharp nose.
+
+“Charmed to make your acquaintance, sir!” said Monsieur de Ventadour.
+“Have you been long in Naples?... Beautiful weather--won’t last
+long--hein, hein, I’ve my suspicions! No news as to your parliament--be
+dissolved soon! Bad opera in London this year!--hein, hein--I’ve my
+suspicions.”
+
+This rapid monologue was delivered with appropriate gesture. Each
+new sentence Mons. de Ventadour began with a sort of bow, and when
+it dropped in the almost invariable conclusion affirmative of his
+shrewdness and incredulity, he made a mystical sign with his forefinger
+by passing it upward in a parallel line with his nose, which at the
+same time performed its own part in the ceremony by three convulsive
+twitches, that seemed to shake the bridge to its base.
+
+Maltravers looked with mute surprise upon the connubial partner of the
+graceful creature by his side, and Mons. de Ventadour, who had said as
+much as he thought necessary, wound up his eloquence by expressing the
+rapture it would give him to see Mons. Maltravers at his hotel. Then,
+turning to his wife, he began assuring her of the lateness of the hour,
+and the expediency of departure. Maltravers glided away, and as he
+regained the door was seized by our old friend, Lumley Ferrers. “Come,
+my dear fellow,” said the latter; “I have been waiting for you this half
+hour. _Allons_. But, perhaps, as I am dying to go to bed, you have
+made up your mind to stay supper. Some people have no regard for other
+people’s feelings.”
+
+“No, Ferrers, I’m at your service;” and the young man descended the
+stairs and passed along the Chiaja towards their hotel. As they gained
+the broad and open space on which it stood, with the lovely sea before
+them, sleeping in the arms of the curving shore, Maltravers, who had
+hitherto listened in silence to the volubility of his companion, paused
+abruptly.
+
+“Look at that sea, Ferrers.... What a scene!--what delicious air! How
+soft this moonlight! Can you not fancy the old Greek adventurers,
+when they first colonised this divine Parthenope--the darling of the
+ocean--gazing along those waves, and pining no more for Greece?”
+
+“I cannot fancy anything of the sort,” said Ferrers.... “And, depend
+upon it, the said gentlemen, at this hour of the night, unless they were
+on some piratical excursion--for they were cursed ruffians, those old
+Greek colonists--were fast asleep in their beds.”
+
+“Did you ever write poetry, Ferrers?”
+
+“To be sure; all clever men have written poetry once in their
+lives--small-pox and poetry--they are our two juvenile diseases.”
+
+“And did you ever _feel_ poetry!”
+
+“Feel it!”
+
+“Yes, if you put the moon into your verses, did you first feel it
+shining into your heart?”
+
+“My dear Maltravers, if I put the moon into my verses, in all
+probability it was to rhyme to noon. ‘The night was at her noon’--is a
+capital ending for the first hexameter--and the moon is booked for the
+next stage. Come in.”
+
+“No, I shall stay out.”
+
+“Don’t be nonsensical.”
+
+“By moonlight there is no nonsense like common sense.”
+
+“What! we--who have climbed the Pyramids, and sailed up the Nile, and
+seen magic at Cairo, and been nearly murdered, bagged, and Bosphorized
+at Constantinople, is it for us, who have gone through so many
+adventures, looked on so many scenes, and crowded into four years events
+that would have satisfied the appetite of a cormorant in romance, if it
+had lived to the age of a phoenix;--is it for us to be doing the pretty
+and sighing to the moon, like a black-haired apprentice without a
+neckcloth on board of the Margate hoy? Nonsense, I say--we have lived
+too much not to have lived away our green sickness of sentiment.”
+
+“Perhaps you are right, Ferrers,” said Maltravers, smiling. “But I can
+still enjoy a beautiful night.”
+
+“Oh, if you like flies in your soup, as the man said to his guest, when
+he carefully replaced those entomological blackamoors in the tureen,
+after helping himself--if you like flies in your soup, well and
+good--_buona notte_.”
+
+Ferrers certainly was right in his theory, that when we have known real
+adventures we grow less morbidly sentimental. Life is a sleep in which
+we dream most at the commencement and the close--the middle part absorbs
+us too much for dreams. But still, as Maltravers said, we can enjoy a
+fine night, especially on the shores of Naples.
+
+Maltravers paced musingly to and fro for some time. His heart was
+softened--old rhymes rang in his ear--old memories passed through
+his brain. But the sweet dark eyes of Madame de Ventadour shone forth
+through every shadow of the past. Delicious intoxication--the draught of
+the rose-coloured phial--which is fancy, but seems love!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+ “Then ‘gan the Palmer thus--‘Most wretched man
+  That to affections dost the bridle lend:
+  In their beginnings they are weak and wan,
+  But soon, through suffrance, growe to fearfull end;
+  While they are weak, betimes with them contend.’”
+    SPENSER.
+
+MALTRAVERS went frequently to the house of Madame de Ventadour--it was
+open twice a week to the world, and thrice a week to friends. Maltravers
+was soon of the latter class. Madame de Ventadour had been in England
+in her childhood, for her parents had been _emigres_. She spoke English
+well and fluently, and this pleased Maltravers; for though the French
+language was sufficiently familiar to him, he was like most who are more
+vain of the mind than the person, and proudly averse to hazarding his
+best thoughts in the domino of a foreign language. We don’t care
+how faulty the accent, or how incorrect the idiom, in which we talk
+nothings; but if we utter any of the poetry within us, we shudder at the
+risk of the most trifling solecism.
+
+This was especially the case with Maltravers; for, besides being now
+somewhat ripened from his careless boyhood into a proud and fastidious
+man, he had a natural love for the Becoming. This love was unconsciously
+visible in trifles: it is the natural parent of Good Taste. And it was
+indeed an inborn good taste which redeemed Ernest’s natural carelessness
+in those personal matters in which young men usually take a pride. An
+habitual and soldier-like neatness, and a love of order and symmetry,
+stood with him in the stead of elaborate attention to equipage and
+dress.
+
+Maltravers had not thought twice in his life whether he was handsome or
+not; and, like most men who have a knowledge of the gentler sex, he knew
+that beauty had little to do with engaging the love of women. The air,
+the manner, the tone, the conversation, the something that interests,
+and the something to be proud of--these are the attributes of the man
+made to be loved. And the Beauty-man is, nine times out of ten, little
+more than the oracle of his aunts, and the “_Sich_ a love!” of the
+housemaids!
+
+To return from this digression, Maltravers was glad that he could talk
+in his own language to Madame de Ventadour; and the conversation between
+them generally began in French, and glided away into English. Madame
+de Ventadour was eloquent, and so was Maltravers; yet a more complete
+contrast in their mental views and conversational peculiarities can
+scarcely be conceived. Madame de Ventadour viewed everything as a woman
+of the world: she was brilliant, thoughtful, and not without delicacy
+and tenderness of sentiment; still all was cast in a worldly mould. She
+had been formed by the influences of society, and her mind betrayed its
+education. At once witty and melancholy (no uncommon union), she was a
+disciple of the sad but caustic philosophy produced by _satiety_. In the
+life she led, neither her heart nor her head was engaged; the faculties
+of both were irritated, not satisfied or employed. She felt somewhat too
+sensitively the hollowness of the great world, and had a low opinion
+of human nature. In fact, she was a woman of the French memoirs--one of
+those charming and _spirituelles_ Aspasias of the boudoir, who
+interest us by their subtlety, tact, and grace, their exquisite tone of
+refinement, and are redeemed from the superficial and frivolous, partly
+by a consummate knowledge of the social system in which they move, and
+partly by a half-concealed and touching discontent of the trifles on
+which their talents and affections are wasted. These are the women
+who, after a youth of false pleasure, often end by an old age of false
+devotion. They are a class peculiar to those ranks and countries in
+which shines and saddens that gay and unhappy thing--_a woman without a
+home_!
+
+Now this was a specimen of life--this Valerie de Ventadour--that
+Maltravers had never yet contemplated, and Maltravers was perhaps
+equally new to the Frenchwoman. They were delighted with each other’s
+society, although it so happened that they never agreed.
+
+Madame de Ventadour rode on horseback, and Maltravers was one of her
+usual companions. And oh, the beautiful landscapes through which their
+daily excursions lay!
+
+Maltravers was an admirable scholar. The stores of the immortal dead
+were as familiar to him as his own language. The poetry, the philosophy,
+the manner of thought and habits of life--of the graceful Greek and the
+luxurious Roman--were a part of knowledge that constituted a common and
+household portion of his own associations and peculiarities of thought.
+He had saturated his intellect with the Pactolus of old--and the
+grains of gold came down from the classic Tmolus with every tide. This
+knowledge of the dead, often so useless, has an inexpressible charm when
+it is applied to the places where the dead lived. We care nothing about
+the ancients on Highgate Hill--but at Baiae, Pompeii, by the Virgilian
+Hades, the ancients are society with which we thirst to be familiar.
+To the animated and curious Frenchwoman what a cicerone was Ernest
+Maltravers! How eagerly she listened to accounts of a life more elegant
+than that of Paris!--of a civilisation which the world never can know
+again! So much the better;--for it was rotten at the core, though most
+brilliant in the complexion. Those cold names and unsubstantial shadows
+which Madame de Ventadour had been accustomed to yawn over in skeleton
+histories, took from the eloquence of Maltravers the breath of
+life--they glowed and moved--they feasted and made love--were wise
+and foolish, merry and sad, like living things. On the other hand,
+Maltravers learned a thousand new secrets of the existing and actual
+world from the lips of the accomplished and observant Valerie. What a
+new step in the philosophy of life does a young man of genius make, when
+he first compares his theories and experience with the intellect of a
+clever woman of the world! Perhaps it does not elevate him, but how it
+enlightens and refines!--what numberless minute yet important mysteries
+in human character and practical wisdom does he drink unconsciously from
+the sparkling _persiflage_ of such a companion! Our education is hardly
+ever complete without it.
+
+“And so you think these stately Romans were not, after all, so
+dissimilar to ourselves?” said Valerie, one day, as they looked over the
+same earth and ocean along which had roved the eyes of the voluptuous
+but august Lucullus.
+
+“In the last days of their Republic, a _coup-d’oeil_ of their social
+date might convey to us a general notion of our own. Their system, like
+ours--a vast aristocracy heaved and agitated, but kept ambitious and
+intellectual, by the great democratic ocean which roared below and
+around it. An immense distinction between rich and poor--a nobility
+sumptuous, wealthy, cultivated, yet scarcely elegant or refined; a
+people with mighty aspirations for more perfect liberty, but always
+liable, in a crisis, to be influenced and subdued by a deep-rooted
+veneration for the very aristocracy against which they struggled;--a
+ready opening through all the walls of custom and privilege, for every
+description of talent and ambition; but so strong and universal a
+respect for wealth, that the finest spirit grew avaricious, griping, and
+corrupt, almost unconsciously; and the man who rose from the people did
+not scruple to enrich himself out of the abuses he affected to lament;
+and the man who would have died for his country could not help thrusting
+his hands into her pockets. Cassius, the stubborn and thoughtful
+patriot, with his heart of iron, had, you remember, an itching palm.
+Yet, what a blow to all the hopes and dreams of a world was the
+overthrow of the free party after the death of Caesar! What generations
+of freemen fell at Philippi! In England, perhaps, we may have ultimately
+the same struggle; in France, too (perhaps a larger stage, with far more
+inflammable actors), we already perceive the same war of elements which
+shook Rome to her centre, which finally replaced the generous Julius
+with the hypocritical Augustus, which destroyed the colossal patricians
+to make way for the glittering dwarfs of a court, and cheated the people
+out of the substance with the shadow of liberty. How it may end in
+the modern world, who shall say? But while a nation has already a fair
+degree of constitutional freedom, I believe no struggle so perilous and
+awful as that between the aristocratic and the democratic principle.
+A people against a despot--_that_ contest requires no prophet; but the
+change from an aristocratic to a democratic commonwealth is indeed the
+wide, unbounded prospect upon which rest shadows, clouds, and darkness.
+If it fail--for centuries is the dial-hand of Time put back; if it
+succeed--”
+
+Maltravers paused.
+
+“And if it succeed?” said Valerie.
+
+“Why, then, man will have colonised Utopia!” replied Maltravers.
+
+“But at least, in modern Europe,” he continued, “there will be fair room
+for the experiment. For we have not that curse of slavery which, more
+than all else, vitiated every system of the ancients, and kept the rich
+and the poor alternately at war; and we have a press, which is not only
+the safety-valve of the passions of every party, but the great note-book
+of the experiments of every hour--the homely, the invaluable ledger of
+losses and of gains. No; the people who keep that tablet well, never
+can be bankrupt. And the society of those old Romans; their daily
+passions--occupations--humours!--why, the satire of Horace is the glass
+of our own follies! We may fancy his easy pages written in the Chaussee
+d’Antin, or Mayfair; but there was one thing that will ever keep the
+ancient world dissimilar from the modern.”
+
+“And what is that?”
+
+“The ancients knew not that delicacy in the affections which
+characterises the descendants of the Goths,” said Maltravers, and his
+voice slightly trembled; “they gave up to the monopoly of the senses
+what ought to have had an equal share in the reason and the imagination.
+Their love was a beautiful and wanton butterfly; but not the butterfly
+which is the emblem of the soul.”
+
+Valerie sighed. She looked timidly into the face of the young
+philosopher, but his eyes were averted.
+
+“Perhaps,” she said, after a short pause, “we pass our lives more
+happily without love than with it. And in our modern social system” (she
+continued, thoughtfully, and with profound truth, though it is scarcely
+the conclusion to which a woman often arrives) “I think we have pampered
+Love to too great a preponderance over the other excitements of life.
+As children, we are taught to dream of it; in youth, our books, our
+conversation, our plays, are filled with it. We are trained to consider
+it the essential of life; and yet, the moment we come to actual
+experience, the moment we indulge this inculcated and stimulated
+craving, nine times out of ten we find ourselves wretched and undone.
+Ah, believe me, Mr. Maltravers, this is not a world in which we should
+preach up too far the philosophy of Love!”
+
+“And does Madame de Ventadour speak from experience?” asked Maltravers,
+gazing earnestly upon the changing countenance of his companion.
+
+“No; and I trust that I never may!” said Valerie, with great energy.
+
+Ernest’s lip curled slightly, for his pride was touched.
+
+“I could give up many dreams of the future,” said he, “to hear Madame de
+Ventadour revoke that sentiment.”
+
+“We have outridden our companions, Mr. Maltravers,” said Valerie,
+coldly, and she reined in her horse. “Ah, Mr. Ferrers,” she continued,
+as Lumley and the handsome German baron now joined her, “you are too
+gallant; I see you imply a delicate compliment to my horsemanship, when
+you wish me to believe you cannot keep up with me: Mr. Maltravers is not
+so polite.”
+
+“Nay,” returned Ferrers, who rarely threw away a compliment without a
+satisfactory return, “Nay, you and Maltravers appeared lost among the
+old Romans; and our friend the baron took that opportunity to tell me of
+all the ladies who adored him.”
+
+“Ah, Monsieur Ferrare, _que vous etes malin_!” said Schomberg, looking
+very much confused.
+
+“_Malin_! no; I spoke from no envy: _I_ never was adored, thank Heaven!
+What a bore it must be!”
+
+“I congratulate you on the sympathy between yourself and Ferrers,”
+ whispered Maltravers to Valerie.
+
+Valerie laughed; but during the rest of the excursion she remained
+thoughtful and absent, and for some days their rides were discontinued.
+Madame de Ventadour was not well.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ “O Love, forsake me not;
+  Mine were a lone dark lot
+  Bereft of thee.”
+    HEMANS, _Genius singing to Love_.
+
+I FEAR that as yet Ernest Maltravers had gained little from Experience,
+except a few current coins of worldly wisdom (and not very valuable
+those!) while he has lost much of that nobler wealth with which youthful
+enthusiasm sets out on the journey of life. Experience is an open giver,
+but a stealthy thief. There is, however, this to be said in her favour,
+that we retain her gifts; and if ever we demand restitution in earnest,
+‘tis ten to one but what we recover her thefts. Maltravers had lived in
+lands where public opinion is neither strong in its influence, nor rigid
+in its canons; and that does not make a man better. Moreover, thrown
+headlong amidst the temptations that make the first ordeal of youth,
+with ardent passions and intellectual superiority, he had been led by
+the one into many errors, from the consequences of which the other
+had delivered him; the necessity of roughing it through the world--of
+resisting fraud to-day, and violence to-morrow,--had hardened over the
+surface of his heart, though at bottom the springs were still fresh and
+living. He had lost much of his chivalrous veneration for women, for he
+had seen them less often deceived than deceiving. Again, too, the
+last few years had been spent without any high aims or fixed pursuits.
+Maltravers had been living on the capital of his faculties and
+affections in a wasteful, speculating spirit. It is a bad thing for a
+clever and ardent man not to have from the onset some paramount object
+of life.
+
+All this considered, we can scarcely wonder that Maltravers should have
+fallen into an involuntary system of pursuing his own amusements and
+pursuits, without much forethought of the harm or the good they were to
+do to others or himself. The moment we lose forethought, we lose sight
+of duty; and though it seems like a paradox, we can seldom be careless
+without being selfish.
+
+In seeking the society of Madame de Ventadour, Maltravers obeyed but the
+mechanical impulse that leads the idler towards the companionship which
+most pleases his leisure. He was interested and excited; and Valerie’s
+manners, which to-day flattered, and to-morrow piqued him, enlisted
+his vanity and pride on the side of his fancy. But although Monsieur
+de Ventadour, a frivolous and profligate Frenchman, seemed utterly
+indifferent as to what his wife chose to do--and in the society in which
+Valerie lived, almost every lady had her cavalier,--yet Maltravers would
+have started with incredulity or dismay had any one accused him of a
+systematic design on her affections. But he was living with the world,
+and the world affected him as it almost always does every one else.
+Still he had, at times, in his heart, the feeling that he was not
+fulfilling his proper destiny and duties; and when he stole from the
+brilliant resorts of an unworthy and heartless pleasure, he was ever
+and anon haunted by his old familiar aspirations for the Beautiful, the
+Virtuous, and the Great. However, hell is paved with good intentions;
+and so, in the meanwhile, Ernest Maltravers surrendered himself to the
+delicious presence of Valerie de Ventadour.
+
+One evening, Maltravers, Ferrers, the French minister, a pretty Italian,
+and the Princess di ------, made the whole party collected at Madame
+de Ventadour’s. The conversation fell upon one of the tales of scandal
+relative to English persons, so common on the Continent.
+
+“Is it true, Monsieur,” said the French minister, gravely, to Lumley,
+“that your countrymen are much more immoral than other people? It is
+very strange, but in every town I enter, there is always some story
+in which _les Anglais_ are the heroes. I hear nothing of French
+scandal--nothing of Italian--_toujours les Anglais_.”
+
+“Because we are shocked at these things, and make a noise about them,
+while you take them quietly. Vice is our episode--your epic.”
+
+“I suppose it is so,” said the Frenchman, with affected seriousness. “If
+we cheat at play, or flirt with a fair lady, we do it with decorum,
+and our neighbours think it no business of theirs. But you treat every
+frailty you find in your countrymen as a public concern, to be discussed
+and talked over, and exclaimed against, and told to all the world.”
+
+“I like the system of scandal,” said Madame de Ventadour, abruptly; “say
+what you will, the policy of fear keeps many of us virtuous. Sin
+might not be odious, if we did not tremble at the consequence even of
+appearances.”
+
+“Hein, hein,” grunted Monsieur de Ventadour, shuffling into the room.
+“How are you?--how are you? Charmed to see you. Dull night--I suspect
+we shall have rain. Hein, hein. Aha, Monsieur Ferrers, _comment ca
+va-t-il_? Will you give me my revenge at _ecarte_? I have my suspicions
+that I am in luck to-night. Hein, hein.”
+
+“_Ecarte_!--well, with pleasure,” said Ferrers.
+
+Ferrers played well.
+
+The conversation ended in a moment. The little party gathered round the
+table--all, except Valerie and Maltravers. The chairs that were vacated
+left a kind of breach between them; but still they were next to each
+other, and they felt embarrassed, for they felt alone.
+
+“Do you never play?” asked Madame de Ventadour, after a pause.
+
+“I _have_ played,” said Maltravers, “and I know the temptation. I dare
+not play now. I love the excitement, but I have been humbled at the
+debasement: it is a moral drunkenness that is worse than the physical.”
+
+“You speak warmly.”
+
+“Because I feel keenly. I once won of a man I respected, who was poor.
+His agony was a dreadful lesson to me. I went home, and was terrified to
+think I had felt so much pleasure in the pain of another. I have never
+played since that night.”
+
+“So young and so resolute!” said Valerie, with admiration in her voice
+and eyes; “you are a strange person. Others would have been cured by
+losing, you were cured by winning. It is a fine thing to have principle
+at your age, Mr. Maltravers.”
+
+“I fear it was rather pride than principle,” said Maltravers. “Error is
+sometimes sweet; but there is no anguish like an error of which we feel
+ashamed. I cannot submit to blush for myself.”
+
+“Ah!” muttered Valerie; “this is the echo of my own heart!” She rose
+and went to the window. Maltravers paused a moment, and followed her.
+Perhaps he half thought there was an invitation in the movement.
+
+There lay before them the still street, with its feeble and unfrequent
+lights; beyond, a few stars, struggling through an atmosphere unusually
+clouded, brought the murmuring ocean partially into sight. Valerie
+leaned against the wall, and the draperies of the window veiled her from
+all the guests, save Maltravers; and between her and himself was a large
+marble vase filled with flowers; and by that uncertain light Valerie’s
+brilliant cheek looked pale, and soft, and thoughtful. Maltravers never
+before felt so much in love with the beautiful Frenchwoman.
+
+“Ah, madam!” said he, softly; “there is one error, if it be so, that
+never can cost me shame.”
+
+“Indeed!” said Valerie with an unaffected start, for she was not aware
+he was so near her. As she spoke she began plucking (it is a common
+woman’s trick) the flowers from the vase between her and Ernest. That
+small, delicate, almost transparent hand!--Maltravers gazed upon the
+hand, then on the countenance, then on the hand again. The scene swam
+before him, and, involuntarily and as by an irresistible impulse, the
+next moment that hand was in his own.
+
+“Pardon me--pardon me,” said he, falteringly; “but that error is in the
+feelings that I know for you.”
+
+Valerie lifted on him her large and radiant eyes, and made no answer.
+
+Maltravers went on. “Chide me, scorn me, hate me if you will. Valerie, I
+love you.”
+
+Valerie drew away her hand, and still remained silent.
+
+“Speak to me,” said Ernest, leaning forward; “one word, I implore
+you--speak to me!”
+
+He paused,--still no reply; he listened breathlessly--he heard her
+sob. Yes; that proud, that wise, that lofty woman of the world, in that
+moment, was as weak as the simplest girl that ever listened to a lover.
+But how different the feelings that made her weak!--what soft and what
+stern emotions were blent together!
+
+“Mr. Maltravers,” she said, recovering her voice, though it sounded
+hollow, yet almost unnaturally firm and clear”--the die is cast, and I
+have lost for ever the friend for whose happiness I cannot live, but for
+whose welfare I would have died; I should have foreseen this, but I was
+blind. No more--no more; see me to-morrow, and leave me now!”
+
+“But, Valerie--”
+
+“Ernest Maltravers,” said she, laying her hand lightly on his own;
+“_there is no anguish, like an error of which we feel ashamed_!”
+
+Before he could reply to this citation from his own aphorism, Valerie
+had glided away; and was already seated at the card-table, by the side
+of the Italian princess.
+
+Maltravers also joined the group. He fixed his eyes on Madame
+de Ventadour, but her face was calm--not a trace of emotion was
+discernible. Her voice, her smile, her charming and courtly manner, all
+were as when he first beheld her.
+
+“These women--what hypocrites they are!” muttered Maltravers to himself;
+and his lip writhed into a sneer, which had of late often forced away
+the serene and gracious expression of his earlier years, ere he knew
+what it was to despise. But Maltravers mistook the woman he dared to
+scorn.
+
+He soon withdrew from the palazzo, and sought his hotel. There, while
+yet musing in his dressing-room, he was joined by Ferrers. The time had
+passed when Ferrers had exercised an influence over Maltravers; the
+boy had grown up to be the equal of the man, in the exercise of that
+two-edged sword--the reason. And Maltravers now felt, unalloyed, the
+calm consciousness of his superior genius. He could not confide to
+Ferrers what had passed between him and Valerie. Lumley was too _hard_
+for a confidant in matters where the heart was at all concerned. In
+fact, in high spirits, and in the midst of frivolous adventures, Ferrers
+was charming. But in sadness, or in the moments of deep feeling, Ferrers
+was one whom you would wish out of the way.
+
+“You are sullen to-eight, _mon cher_,” said Lumley, yawning; “I suppose
+you want to go to bed--some persons are so ill-bred, so selfish, they
+never think of their friends. Nobody asks me what I won at _ecarte_.
+Don’t be late to-morrow--I hate breakfasting alone, and I am never later
+than a quarter before nine--I hate egotistical, ill-mannered people.
+Good night.”
+
+With this, Ferrers sought his own room; there, as he slowly undressed,
+he thus soliloquised: “I think I have put this man to all the use I can
+make of him. We don’t pull well together any longer; perhaps I myself
+am a little tired of this sort of life. That is not right. I shall grow
+ambitious by and by; but I think it a bad calculation not to make the
+most of youth. At four or five-and-thirty it will be time enough to
+consider what one ought to be at fifty.”
+
+
+
+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. I know well that delicious, dreaming, holiday-life of
+Italy, so sweet to men of learning and imagination--so sweet, too, to
+youth--so sweet to pleasure! But, Ernest, do you not feel already how it
+enervates?--how the luxurious _far niente_ unfits us for grave exertion?
+Men may become too refined and too fastidious for useful purposes; and
+nowhere can they become so more rapidly than in Italy. My dear Ernest,
+I know you well; you are not made to sink down into a virtuoso, with a
+cabinet full of cameos and a head full of pictures; still less are you
+made to be an indolent _cicisbeo_ to some fair Italian, with one passion
+and two ideas: and yet I have known men as clever as you, whom that
+bewitching Italy has sunk into one or other of these insignificant
+beings. Don’t run away with the notion that you have plenty of time
+before you. You have no such thing. At your age, and with your fortune
+(I wish you were not so rich), the holiday of one year becomes the
+custom of the next. In England, to be a useful or a distinguished man,
+you must labour. Now, labour itself is sweet, if we take to it early.
+We are a hard race, but we are a manly one; and our stage is the most
+exciting in Europe for an able and an honest ambition. Perhaps you will
+tell me you are not ambitious now; very possibly--but ambitious you
+will be; and, believe me, there is no unhappier wretch than a man who is
+ambitious but disappointed,--who has the desire for fame, but has lost
+the power to achieve it--who longs for the goal, but will not, and
+cannot, put away his slippers to walk to it. What I most fear for you is
+one of these two evils--an early marriage or a fatal _liaison_ with some
+married woman. The first evil is certainly the least, but for you it
+would still be a great one. With your sensitive romance, with your
+morbid cravings for the ideal, domestic happiness would soon grow trite
+and dull. You would demand new excitement, and become a restless and
+disgusted man. It is necessary for you to get rid of all the false fever
+of life, before you settle down to everlasting ties. You do not yet
+know your own mind; you would choose your partner from some visionary
+caprice, or momentary impulse, and not from the deep and accurate
+knowledge of those qualities which would most harmonize with your own
+character. People, to live happily with each other, must _fit in_, as it
+were--the proud be mated with the meek, the irritable with the gentle,
+and so forth. No, my dear Maltravers, do not think of marriage yet a
+while; and if there is any danger of it, come over to me immediately.
+But if I warn you against a lawful tie, how much more against an illicit
+one? You are precisely at the age, and of the disposition, which render
+the temptation so strong and so deadly. With you it might not be the
+sin of an hour, but the bondage of a life. I know your chivalric
+honour--your tender heart; I know how faithful you would be to one who
+had sacrificed for you. But that fidelity, Maltravers, to what a life
+of wasted talent and energies would it not compel you! Putting aside
+for the moment (for that needs no comment) the question of the grand
+immorality--what so fatal to a bold and proud temper, as to be at war
+with society at the first entrance into life? What so withering to manly
+aims and purposes, as the giving into the keeping of a woman, who has
+interest in your love, and interest against your career which might part
+you at once from her side--the control of your future destinies? I
+could say more, but I trust what I have said is superfluous; if so, pray
+assure me of it. Depend upon this, Ernest Maltravers, that if you do
+not fulfil what nature intended for your fate, you will be a morbid
+misanthrope, or an indolent voluptuary--wrenched and listless in
+manhood, repining and joyless in old age. But if you do fulfil your
+fate, you must enter soon into your apprenticeship. Let me see you
+labour and aspire--no matter what in--what to. Work, work--that is all I
+ask of you!
+
+“I wish you would see your old country-house; it has a venerable and
+picturesque look, and during your minority they have let the ivy cover
+three sides of it. Montaigne might have lived there.
+
+   “Adieu, dearest Ernest,
+     “Your anxious and affectionate guardian,
+        “FREDERICK CLEVELAND.
+
+“P. S.--I am writing a book--it shall last me ten years--it occupies me,
+but does not fatigue. Write a book yourself.”
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Maltravers had just finished this letter when Ferrers entered
+impatiently. “Will you ride out?” said he. “I have sent the breakfast
+away; I saw that breakfast was a vain hope to-day--indeed, my appetite
+is gone.”
+
+“Pshaw!” said Maltravers.
+
+“Pshaw! Humph! for my part I like well-bred people.”
+
+“I have had a letter from Cleveland.”
+
+“And what the deuce has that got to do with the chocolate?”
+
+“Oh, Lumley, you are insufferable; you think of nothing but yourself,
+and self with you means nothing that is not animal.”
+
+“Why, yes; I believe I have some sense,” replied Ferrers, complacently.
+“I know the philosophy of life. All unfledged bipeds are animals, I
+suppose. If Providence had made me graminivorous, I should have eaten
+grass; if ruminating, I should have chewed the cud; but as it has made
+me a carnivorous, culinary, and cachinnatory animal, I eat a cutlet,
+scold about the sauce, and laugh at you; and this is what you call being
+selfish!”
+
+It was late at noon when Maltravers found himself at the palazzo of
+Madame de Ventadour. He was surprised, but agreeably so, that he was
+admitted, for the first time, into that private sanctum which bears
+the hackneyed title of boudoir. But there was little enough of the fine
+lady’s boudoir in the simple morning-room of Madame de Ventadour. It was
+a lofty apartment, stored with books, and furnished, not without claim
+to grace, but with very small attention to luxury.
+
+Valerie was not there, and Maltravers, left alone, after a hasty glance
+around the chamber, leaned abstractedly against the wall, and forgot,
+alas! all the admonitions of Cleveland. In a few moments the door
+opened, and Valerie entered. She was unusually pale, and Maltravers
+thought her eyelids betrayed the traces of tears. He was touched, and
+his heart smote him.
+
+“I have kept you waiting, I fear,” said Valerie, motioning him to a seat
+at a little distance from that on which she placed herself; “but you
+will forgive me,” she added, with a slight smile. Then, observing he was
+about to speak, she went on rapidly; “Hear me, Mr. Maltravers--before
+you speak, hear me! You uttered words last night that ought never to
+have been addressed to me. You professed to--love me.”
+
+“Professed!”
+
+“Answer me,” said Valerie, with abrupt energy, “not as man to woman, but
+as one human creature to another. From the bottom of your heart, from
+the core of your conscience, I call on you to speak the honest and the
+simple truth. Do you love me as your heart, your genius, must be capable
+of loving?”
+
+“I love you truly--passionately!” said Maltravers, surprised and
+confused, but still with enthusiasm in his musical voice and earnest
+eyes. Valerie gazed upon him as if she sought to penetrate into his
+soul. Maltravers went on. “Yes, Valerie, when we first met, you aroused
+a long dormant and delicious sentiment. But, since then, what deep
+emotions has that sentiment called forth? Your graceful intellect--your
+lovely thoughts, wise yet womanly--have completed the conquest your face
+and voice began. Valerie, I love you. And you--you, Valerie--ah! I do
+not deceive myself--you also--”
+
+“Love!” interrupted Valerie, deeply blushing, but in a calm voice.
+“Ernest Maltravers, I do not deny it; honestly and frankly I confess the
+fault. I have examined my heart during the whole of the last sleepless
+night, and I confess that I love you. Now, then, understand me--we meet
+no more.”
+
+“What!” said Maltravers, falling involuntarily at her feet, and seeking
+to detain her hand, which he seized. “What! now, when you have given
+life a new charm, will you as suddenly blast it? No, Valerie; no, I will
+not listen to you.”
+
+Madame de Ventadour rose and said, with a cold dignity: “Hear me calmly,
+or I quit the room; and all I would now say rests for ever unspoken.”
+
+Maltravers rose also, folded his arms haughtily, bit his lips, and stood
+erect, and confronting Valerie rather in the attitude of an accuser than
+a suppliant.
+
+“Madame,” said he, gravely, “I will offend no more; I will trust to your
+manner, since I may not believe your words.”
+
+“You are cruel,” said Valerie, smiling mournfully; “but so are all
+men. Now let me make myself understood. I was betrothed to Monsieur
+de Ventadour in my childhood. I did not see him till a month before we
+married. I had no choice. French girls have none. We were wed. I had
+formed no other attachment. I was proud and vain: wealth, ambition, and
+social rank for a time satisfied my faculties and my heart. At length
+I grew restless and unhappy. I felt that something of life was wanting.
+Monsieur de Ventadour’s sister was the first to recommend me to the
+common resource of our sex--at least, in France--a lover. I was shocked
+and startled, for I belong to a family in which women are chaste and men
+brave. I began, however, to look around me, and examine the truth of the
+philosophy of vice. I found that no woman, who loved honestly and deeply
+an illicit lover was happy. I found, too, the hideous profundity of
+Rochefoucauld’s maxim that a woman--I speak of French women--may live
+without a lover; but, a lover once admitted, she never goes through
+life with only one. She is deserted; she cannot bear the anguish and the
+solitude; she fills up the void with a second idol. For her there is no
+longer a fall from virtue: it is a gliding and involuntary descent
+from sin to sin, till old age comes on and leaves her without love and
+without respect. I reasoned calmly, for my passions did not blind my
+reason. I could not love the egotists around me. I resolved upon my
+career; and now, in temptation, I will adhere to it. Virtue is my lover,
+my pride, my comfort, my life of life. Do you love me, and will you rob
+me of this treasure? I saw you, and for the first time I felt a vague
+and intoxicating interest in another; but I did not dream of danger. As
+our acquaintance advanced I formed to myself a romantic and delightful
+vision. I would be your firmest, your truest friend; your confidant,
+your adviser--perhaps, in some epochs of life, your inspiration and your
+guide. I repeat that I foresaw no danger in your society. I felt myself
+a nobler and a better being. I felt more benevolent, more tolerant, more
+exalted. I saw life through the medium of purifying admiration for a
+gifted nature, and a profound and generous soul. I fancied we might be
+ever thus--each to each;--one strengthened, assured, supported by the
+other. Nay, I even contemplated with pleasure the prospect of your
+future marriage with another--of loving your wife--of contributing with
+her to your happiness--my imagination made me forget that we are made
+of clay. Suddenly all these visions were dispelled--the fairy palace was
+overthrown, and I found myself awake, and on the brink of the abyss--you
+loved me, and in the moment of that fatal confession, the mask dropped
+from my soul, and I felt that you had become too dear to me. Be
+silent still, I implore you. I do not tell you of the emotions, of the
+struggles, through which I have passed the last few hours--the crisis of
+a life. I tell you only of the resolution I formed. I thought it due
+to you, nor unworthy to myself, to speak the truth. Perhaps it might be
+more womanly to conceal it; but my heart has something masculine in
+its nature. I have a great faith in your nobleness. I believe you can
+sympathise with whatever is best in human weakness. I tell you that I
+love you--I throw myself upon your generosity. I beseech you to assist
+my own sense of right--to think well of me, to honour me--and to leave
+me!”
+
+During the last part of this strange and frank avowal, Valerie’s voice
+had grown inexpressibly touching: her tenderness forced itself into her
+manner; and when she ceased, her lip quivered; her tears, repressed by
+a violent effort, trembled in her eyes--her hands were clasped--her
+attitude was that of humility, not pride.
+
+Maltravers stood perfectly spell-bound. At length he advanced; dropped
+on one knee, kissed her hand with an aspect and air of reverential
+homage, and turned to quit the room in silence; for he would not dare to
+trust himself to speak.
+
+Valerie gazed at him in anxious alarm. “O no, no!” she exclaimed, “do
+not leave me yet; this is our last meeting our last. Tell me, at least,
+that you understand me; that you see, if I am no weak fool, I am also
+no heartless coquette; tell me that you see I am not as hard as I have
+seemed; that I have not knowingly trifled with your happiness; that
+even now I am not selfish. Your love,--I ask it no more! But your
+esteem--your good opinion. Oh, speak--speak, I implore you!”
+
+“Valerie,” said Maltravers, “if I was silent, it was because my heart
+was too full for words. You have raised all womanhood in my eyes. I did
+love you--I now venerate and adore. Your noble frankness, so unlike the
+irresolute frailty, the miserable wiles of your sex, has touched a chord
+in my heart that has been mute for years. I leave you to think better
+of human nature. Oh!” he continued, “hasten to forget all of me that can
+cost you a pang. Let me still, in absence and in sadness, think that I
+retain in your friendship--let it be friendship only--the inspiration,
+the guide of which you spoke; and if, hereafter, men shall name me with
+praise and honour, feel, Valerie, feel that I have comforted myself
+for the loss of your love by becoming worthy of your confidence--your
+esteem. Oh, that we had met earlier, when no barrier was between us!”
+
+“Go, go, _now_,” faltered Valerie, almost choked with her emotions; “may
+Heaven bless you! Go!”
+
+Maltravers muttered a few inaudible and incoherent words, and quitted
+the apartment.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+ “The men of sense, those idols of the shallow, are very inferior
+  to the men of Passions. It is the strong passions which, rescuing
+  us from sloth, can alone impart to us that continuous and earnest
+  attention necessary to great intellectual efforts.”--HELVETIUS.
+
+WHEN Ferrers returned that day from his customary ride, he was surprised
+to see the lobbies and hall of the apartment which he occupied in common
+with Maltravers, littered with bags and _malles_, boxes and books,
+and Ernest’s Swiss valet directing porters and waiters in a mosaic of
+French, English, and Italian.
+
+“Well!” said Lumley, “and what is all this?”
+
+“Il signore va partir, sare, ah! mon Dieu!--_tout_ of a sudden.”
+
+“O-h! and where is he now!”
+
+“In his room, sare.”
+
+Over the chaos strode Ferrers, and opening the door of his friend’s
+dressing-room without ceremony, he saw Maltravers buried in a fauteuil,
+with his hands drooping on his knees, his head bent over his breast, and
+his whole attitude expressive of dejection and exhaustion.
+
+“What is the matter, my dear Ernest? You have not killed a man in a
+duel?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“What then? Why are you going away, and whither?”
+
+“No matter; leave me in peace.”
+
+“Friendly!” said Ferrers; “very friendly! And what is to become of
+me--what companion am I to have in this cursed resort of antiquarians
+and lazzaroni? You have no feeling, Mr. Maltravers!”
+
+“Will you come with me, then?” said Maltravers, in vain endeavouring to
+rouse himself.
+
+“But where are you going?”
+
+“Anywhere; to Paris--to London.”
+
+“No; I have arranged my plans for the summer. I am not so rich as some
+people. I hate change: it is so expensive.”
+
+“But, my dear fellow--”
+
+“Is this fair dealing with me?” continued Lumley, who, for once in his
+life, was really angry. “If I were an old coat you had worn for five
+years you could not throw me off with more nonchalance.”
+
+“Ferrers, forgive me. My honour is concerned. I must leave this place. I
+trust you will remain my guest here, though in the absence of your host.
+You know that I have engaged the apartment for the next three months.”
+
+“Humph!” said Ferrers, “as that is the case I may as well stay here.
+But why so secret? Have you seduced Madame de Ventadour, or has her wise
+husband his suspicions? Hein, hein!”
+
+Maltravers smothered his disgust at this coarseness; and, perhaps, there
+is no greater trial of temper than in a friend’s gross remarks upon the
+connection of the heart.
+
+“Ferrers,” said he, “if you care for me, breathe not a word
+disrespectful to Madame de Ventadour: she is an angel!”
+
+“But why leave Naples?”
+
+“Trouble me no more.”
+
+“Good day, sir,” said Ferrers, highly offended, and he stalked out of
+the chamber; nor did Ernest see him again before his departure.
+
+It was late that evening when Maltravers found himself alone in his
+carriage, pursuing by starlight the ancient and melancholy road to Mola
+di Gaeta.
+
+His solitude was a luxury to Maltravers; he felt an inexpressible sense
+of relief to be freed from Ferrers. The hard sense, the unpliant, though
+humorous imperiousness, the animal sensuality of his companion would
+have been torture to him in his present state of mind.
+
+The next morning, when he rose, the orange blossoms of Mola di Gaeta
+were sweet beneath the window of the inn where he rested. It was now the
+early spring, and the freshness of the odour, the breathing health of
+earth and air, it is impossible to describe. Italy itself boasts few
+spots more lovely than that same Mola di Gaeta--nor does that halcyon
+sea wear, even at Naples or Sorrento, a more bland and enchanting smile.
+
+So, after a hasty and scarcely-tasted breakfast, Maltravers strolled
+through the orange groves, and gained the beach; and there, stretched at
+idle length by the murmuring waves, he resigned himself to thought,
+and endeavoured, for the first time since his parting with Valerie, to
+collect and examine the state of his mind and feelings. Maltravers, to
+his own surprise, did not find himself so unhappy as he had expected. On
+the contrary, a soft and almost delicious sentiment, which he could not
+well define, floated over all his memories of the beautiful Frenchwoman.
+Perhaps the secret was, that while his pride was not mortified, his
+conscience was not galled--perhaps, also, he had not loved Valerie so
+deeply as he had imagined. The confession and the separation had happily
+come before her presence had grown--_the want of a life_. As it was,
+he felt as if, by some holy and mystic sacrifice, he had been made
+reconciled to himself and mankind. He woke to a juster and higher
+appreciation of human nature, and of woman’s nature in especial. He
+had found honesty and truth where he might least have expected it--in
+a woman of a court--in a woman surrounded by vicious and frivolous
+circles--in a woman who had nothing in the opinion of her friends, her
+country, her own husband, the social system in which she moved, to keep
+her from the concessions of frailty--in a woman of the world--a woman of
+Paris!--yes, it was his very disappointment that drove away the fogs and
+vapours that, arising from the marshes of the great world, had gradually
+settled round his soul. Valerie de Ventadour had taught him not to
+despise her sex, not to judge by appearances, not to sicken of a low and
+a hypocritical world. He looked in his heart for the love of Valerie,
+and he found there the love of virtue. Thus, as he turned his eyes
+inward, did he gradually awaken to a sense of the true impressions
+engraved there. And he felt the bitterest drop of the fountains was not
+sorrow for himself, but for her. What pangs must that high spirit have
+endured ere it could have submitted to the avowal it had made! Yet, even
+in this affliction he found at last a solace. A mind so strong could
+support and heal the weakness of the heart. He felt that Valerie de
+Ventadour was not a woman to pine away in the unresisted indulgence of
+morbid and unholy emotions. He could not flatter himself that she would
+not seek to eradicate a love she repented; and he sighed with a natural
+selfishness, when he owned also that sooner or later she would succeed.
+“But be it so,” said he, half aloud--“I will prepare my heart to rejoice
+when I learn that she remembers me only as a friend. Next to the bliss
+of her love is the pride of her esteem.”
+
+Such was the sentiment with which his reveries closed--and with
+every league that bore him further from the south, the sentiment grew
+strengthened and confirmed.
+
+Ernest Maltravers felt there is in the affections themselves so much
+to purify and exalt, that even an erring love, conceived without a cold
+design, and (when its nature is fairly understood) wrestled against with
+a noble spirit, leaves the heart more tolerant and tender, and the mind
+more settled and enlarged. The philosophy limited to the reason puts
+into motion the automata of the closet--but to those who have the world
+for a stage, and who find their hearts are the great actors, experience
+and wisdom must be wrought from the Philosophy of the Passions.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK III.
+
+ “Not to all men Apollo shows himself--
+  Who sees him--_he_ is great!”
+    CALLIM. _Ex Hymno in Apollinon_.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ “Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
+  Creep in our ears--soft stillness and the night
+  Become the touches of sweet harmony.”
+    SHAKESPEARE.
+
+
+BOAT SONG ON THE LAKE OF COMO.
+
+     I.
+
+     The Beautiful Clime!--the Clime of Love!
+      Thou beautiful Italy!
+     Like a mother’s eyes, the earnest skies
+      Ever have smiles for thee!
+     Not a flower that blows, not a beam that glows,
+      But what is in love with thee!
+
+     II.
+
+     The beautiful lake, the Larian lake!*
+      Soft lake like a silver sea,
+     The Huntress Queen, with her nymphs of sheen,
+      Never had bath like thee.
+     See, the Lady of night and her maids of light,
+      Even now are mid-deep in thee!
+
+     * The ancient name of Como.
+
+     III.
+
+     Beautiful child of the lonely hills,
+      Ever blest may thy slumbers be!
+     No mourner should tread by thy dreamy bed,
+      No life bring a care to thee--
+     Nay, soft to thy bed, let the mourner tread--
+      And life be a dream like thee!
+
+
+Such, though uttered in the soft Italian tongue, and now imperfectly
+translated--such were the notes that floated one lovely evening in
+summer along the lake of Como. The boat, from which came the song,
+drifted gently down the sparkling waters, towards the mossy banks of a
+lawn, whence on a little eminence gleamed the white walls of a villa,
+backed by vineyards. On that lawn stood a young and handsome woman,
+leaning on the arm of her husband, and listening to the song. But her
+delight was soon deepened into one of more personal interest, as the
+boatmen, nearing the banks, changed their measure, and she felt that the
+minstrelsy was in honour of herself.
+
+
+SERENADE TO THE SONGSTRESS.
+
+    I.
+
+    CHORUS.
+
+    Softly--oh, soft! let us rest on the oar,
+    And vex not a billow that sighs to the shore:--
+    For sacred the spot where the starry waves meet
+    With the beach, where the breath of the citron is sweet.
+    There’s a spell on the waves that now waft us along
+    To the last of our Muses, the Spirit of Song.
+
+    RECITATIVE.
+
+      The Eagle of old renown,
+      And the Lombard’s iron crown
+    And Milan’s mighty name are ours no more;
+      But by this glassy water,
+      Harmonia’s youngest daughter,
+    Still from the lightning saves one laurel to our shore.
+
+    II.
+
+    CHORUS.
+
+    They heard thee, Teresa, the Teuton, the Gaul,
+    Who have raised the rude thrones of the North on our fall;
+    They heard thee, and bow’d to the might of thy song;
+    Like love went thy steps o’er the hearts of the strong;
+    As the moon to the air, as the soul to the clay,
+    To the void of this earth was the breath of thy lay.
+
+    RECITATIVE.
+
+      Honour for aye to her
+      The bright interpreter
+    Of Art’s great mysteries to the enchanted throng;
+      While tyrants heard thy strains,
+      Sad Rome forgot her chains;
+    The world the sword had lost was conquer’d back by song!
+
+
+“Thou repentest, my Teresa, that thou hast renounced thy dazzling career
+for a dull home, and a husband old enough to be thy father,” said the
+husband to the wife, with a smile that spoke confidence in the answer.
+
+“Ah, no! even this homage would have no music to me if thou didst not
+hear it.”
+
+She was a celebrated personage in Italy--the Signora Cesarini, now
+Madame de Montaigne. Her earlier youth had been spent upon the stage,
+and her promise of vocal excellence had been most brilliant. But after
+a brief though splendid career, she married a French gentleman of
+good birth and fortune, retired from the stage, and spent her life
+alternately in the gay saloons of Paris and upon the banks of the dreamy
+Como, on which her husband had purchased a small but beautiful villa.
+She still, however, exercised in private her fascinating art; to
+which--for she was a woman of singular accomplishment and talent--she
+added the gift of the improvvisatrice. She had just returned for the
+summer to this lovely retreat, and a party of enthusiastic youths
+from Milan had sought the lake of Como to welcome her arrival with the
+suitable homage of song and music. It is a charming relic, that custom
+of the brighter days of Italy; and I myself have listened, on the still
+waters of the same lake, to a similar greeting to a greater genius--the
+queenlike and unrivalled Pasta--the Semiramis of Song! And while my boat
+paused, and I caught something of the enthusiasm of the serenaders, the
+boatman touched me, and, pointing to a part of the lake on which the
+setting sun shed its rosiest smile, he said, “There, Signor, was drowned
+one of your countrymen ‘bellissimo uomo! che fu bello!’”--yes, there,
+in the pride of his promising youth, of his noble and almost godlike
+beauty, before the very windows--the very eyes--of his bride--the waves
+without a frown had swept over the idol of many hearts--the graceful and
+gallant Locke.* And above his grave was the voluptuous sky, and over
+it floated the triumphant music. It was as the moral of the Roman
+poets--calling the living to a holiday over the oblivion of the dead.
+
+* Captain William Locke of the Life Guards (the only son of the
+accomplished Mr. Locke of Norbury Park), distinguished by a character
+the most amiable, and by a personal beauty that certainly equalled,
+perhaps surpassed, the highest masterpiece of Grecian sculpture. He was
+returning in a boat from the town of Como to his villa on the banks
+of the lake, when the boat was upset by one of the mysterious
+under-currents to which the lake is dangerously subjected; and he was
+drowned in sight of his bride, who was watching his return from the
+terrace or balcony of their home.
+
+As the boat now touched the bank, Madame de Montaigne accosted the
+musicians, thanked them with a sweet and unaffected earnestness for the
+compliment so delicately offered, and invited them ashore. The Milanese,
+who were six in number, accepted the invitation, and moored their boat
+to the jutting shore. It was then that Monsieur de Montaigne pointed out
+to the notice of his wife a boat, that had lingered under the shadow
+of a bank, tenanted by a young man, who had seemed to listen with rapt
+attention to the music, and who had once joined in the chorus (as it was
+twice repeated), with a voice so exquisitely attuned, and so rich in its
+deep power, that it had awakened the admiration even of the serenaders
+themselves.
+
+“Does not that gentleman belong to your party?” De Montaigne asked of
+the Milanese.
+
+“No, Signor, we know him not,” was the answer; “his boat came unawares
+upon us as we were singing.”
+
+While this question and answer were going on, the young man had quitted
+his station, and his oars cut the glassy surface of the lake, just
+before the place where De Montaigne stood. With the courtesy of his
+country, the Frenchman lifted his hat; and, by his gesture, arrested the
+eye and oar of the solitary rower. “Will you honour us,” he said, “by
+joining our little party?”
+
+“It is a pleasure I covet too much to refuse,” replied the boatman, with
+a slight foreign accent, and in another moment he was on shore. He was
+one of remarkable appearance. His long hair floated with a careless
+grace over a brow more calm and thoughtful than became his years; his
+manner was unusually quiet and self-collected, and not without a certain
+stateliness, rendered more striking by the height of his stature,
+a lordly contour of feature, and a serene but settled expression of
+melancholy in his eyes and smile. “You will easily believe,” said he,
+“that, cold as my countrymen are esteemed (for you must have discovered
+already that I am an Englishman), I could not but share in the
+enthusiasm of those about me, when loitering near the very ground sacred
+to the inspiration. For the rest, I am residing for the present in
+yonder villa, opposite to your own; my name is Maltravers, and I am
+enchanted to think that I am no longer a personal stranger to one whose
+fame has already reached me.” Madame de Montaigne was flattered by
+something in the manner and tone of the Englishman, which said a great
+deal more than his words; and in a few minutes, beneath the influence of
+the happy continental ease, the whole party seemed as if they had
+known each other for years. Wines, and fruits, and other simple and
+unpretending refreshments, were brought out and ranged on a rude table
+upon the grass, round which the guests seated themselves with their
+host and hostess, and the clear moon shone over them, and the lake slept
+below in silver. It was a scene for a Boccaccio or a Claude.
+
+The conversation naturally fell upon music; it is almost the only thing
+which Italians in general can be said to know--and even that knowledge
+comes to them, like Dogberry’s reading and writing, by nature--for of
+music, as an _art_, the unprofessional amateurs know but little. As vain
+and arrogant of the last wreck of their national genius as the Romans
+of old were of the empire of all arts and arms, they look upon the
+harmonies of other lands as barbarous; nor can they appreciate or
+understand appreciation of the mighty German music, which is the proper
+minstrelsy of a nation of men--a music of philosophy, of heroism, of the
+intellect and the imagination; beside which, the strains of modern Italy
+are indeed effeminate, fantastic, and artificially feeble. Rossini is
+the Canova of music, with much of the pretty, with nothing of the grand!
+
+The little party talked, however, of music, with an animation and gusto
+that charmed the melancholy Maltravers, who for weeks had known no
+companion save his own thoughts, and with whom, at all times, enthusiasm
+for any art found a ready sympathy. He listened attentively, but said
+little; and from time to time, whenever the conversation flagged,
+amused himself by examining his companions. The six Milanese had nothing
+remarkable in their countenances or in their talk; they possessed the
+characteristic energy and volubility of their countrymen, with something
+of the masculine dignity which distinguishes the Lombard from the
+Southern, and a little of the French polish, which the inhabitants of
+Milan seldom fail to contract. Their rank was evidently that of the
+middle class; for Milan has a middle class, and one which promises great
+results hereafter. But they were noways distinguished from a thousand
+other Milanese whom Maltravers had met with in the walks and cafes of
+their noble city. The host was somewhat more interesting. He was a
+tall, handsome man, of about eight-and-forty, with a high forehead, and
+features strongly impressed with the sober character of thought. He had
+but little of the French vivacity in his manner; and without looking at
+his countenance, you would still have felt insensibly that he was the
+eldest of the party. His wife was at least twenty years younger than
+himself, mirthful and playful as a child, but with a certain feminine
+and fascinating softness in her unrestrained gestures and sparkling
+gaiety, which seemed to subdue her natural joyousness into the form and
+method of conventional elegance. Dark hair carelessly arranged, an open
+forehead, large black laughing eyes, a small straight nose, a complexion
+just relieved from the olive by an evanescent, yet perpetually recurring
+blush; a round dimpled cheek, an exquisitely-shaped mouth with small
+pearly teeth, and a light and delicate figure a little below the
+ordinary standard, completed the picture of Madame de Montaigne.
+
+“Well,” said Signor Tirabaloschi, the most loquacious and sentimental of
+the guests, filling his glass, “these are hours to think of for the rest
+of life. But we cannot hope the Signora will long remember what we never
+can forget. Paris, says the French proverb, _est le paradis des femmes_:
+and in Paradise, I take it for granted, we recollect very little of what
+happened on earth.”
+
+“Oh,” said Madame de Montaigne, with a pretty musical laugh, “in Paris
+it is the rage to despise the frivolous life of cities, and to affect
+_des sentimens romanesques_. This is precisely the scene which our fine
+ladies and fine writers would die to talk of and to describe. Is it not
+so, _mon ami_?” and she turned affectionately to De Montaigne.
+
+“True,” replied he; “but you are not worthy of such a scene--you laugh
+at sentiment and romance.”
+
+“Only at French sentiment and the romance of the Chaussee d’Antin. You
+English,” she continued, shaking her head at Maltravers, “have spoiled
+and corrupted us; we are not content to imitate you, we must excel you;
+we out-horror horror, and rush from the extravagant into the frantic!”
+
+“The ferment of the new school is, perhaps, better than the stagnation
+of the old,” said Maltravers. “Yet even you,” addressing himself to
+the Italians, “who first in Petrarch, in Tasso, and in Ariosto, set to
+Europe the example of the Sentimental and the Romantic; who built among
+the very ruins of the classic school, amidst its Corinthian columns and
+sweeping arches, the spires and battlements of the Gothic--even you are
+deserting your old models and guiding literature into newer and wilder
+paths. ‘Tis the way of the world--eternal progress is eternal change.”
+
+“Very possibly,” said Signor Tirabaloschi, who understood nothing of
+what was said. “Nay, it is extremely profound; on reflection, it is
+beautiful--superb! you English are so--so--in short, it is admirable.
+Ugo Foscolo is a great genius--so is Monti; and as for Rossini,--you
+know his last opera--_cosa stupenda_!”
+
+Madame de Montaigne glanced at Maltravers, clapped her little hands, and
+laughed outright. Maltravers caught the contagion, and laughed also.
+But he hastened to repair the pedantic error he had committed of talking
+over the heads of the company. He took up the guitar, which, among their
+musical instruments, the serenaders had brought, and after touching its
+chords for a few moments, said: “After all, Madame, in your society,
+and with this moonlit lake before us, we feel as if music were our best
+medium of conversation. Let us prevail upon these gentlemen to delight
+us once more.”
+
+“You forestall what I was going to ask,” said the ex-singer; and
+Maltravers offered the guitar to Tirabaloschi, who was in fact dying to
+exhibit his powers again. He took the instrument with a slight grimace
+of modesty, and then saying to Madame de Montaigne, “There is a song
+composed by a young friend of mine, which is much admired by the ladies;
+though to me it seems a little too sentimental,” sang the following
+stanzas (as good singers are wont to do) with as much feeling as if he
+could understand them!
+
+
+NIGHT AND LOVE.
+
+When stars are in the quiet skies,  Then most I pine for thee;
+Bend on me, then, thy tender eyes!  As stars look on the sea!
+
+For thoughts, like waves that glide by night,  Are stillest where they shine;
+Mine earthly love lies hushed in light  Beneath the heaven of thine.
+
+There is an hour when angels keep  Familiar watch on men;
+When coarser souls are wrapt in sleep,--  Sweet spirit, meet me then.
+
+There is an hour when holy dreams  Through slumber fairest glide;
+And in that mystic hour it seems  Thou shouldst be by my side.
+
+     The thoughts of thee too sacred are
+       For daylight’s common beam;--
+     I can but know thee as my star,
+       My angel, and my dream!
+
+
+And now, the example set, and the praises of the fair hostess exciting
+general emulation, the guitar circled from hand to hand, and each of the
+Italians performed his part; you might have fancied yourself at one
+of the old Greek feasts, with the lyre and the myrtle-branch going the
+round.
+
+But both the Italians and the Englishman felt the entertainment would be
+incomplete without hearing the celebrated vocalist and improvvisatrice
+who presided over the little banquet; and Madame de Montaigne, with a
+woman’s tact, divined the general wish, and anticipated the request
+that was sure to be made. She took the guitar from the last singer, and
+turning to Maltravers, said, “You have heard, of course, some of our
+more eminent improvvisatori, and therefore if I ask you for a subject it
+will only be to prove to you that the talent is not general amongst the
+Italians.”
+
+“Ah,” said Maltravers, “I have heard, indeed, some ugly old gentlemen
+with immense whiskers, and gestures of the most alarming ferocity, pour
+out their vehement impromptus; but I have never yet listened to a young
+and a handsome lady. I shall only believe the inspiration when I hear it
+direct from the Muse.”
+
+“Well, I will do my best to deserve your compliments--you must give me
+the theme.”
+
+Maltravers paused a moment, and suggested the Influence of Praise on
+Genius.
+
+The improvvisatrice nodded assent, and after a short prelude broke forth
+into a wild and varied strain of verse, in a voice so exquisitely sweet,
+with a taste so accurate, and a feeling so deep that the poetry sounded
+to the enchanted listeners like the language that Armida might have
+uttered. Yet the verses themselves, like all extemporaneous effusions,
+were of a nature both to pass from the memory and to defy transcription.
+
+When Madame de Montaigne’s song ceased, no rapturous plaudits
+followed--the Italians were too affected by the science, Maltravers by
+the feeling, for the coarseness of ready praise;--and ere that delighted
+silence which made the first impulse was broken, a new comer, descending
+from the groves that clothed the ascent behind the house, was in the
+midst of the party.
+
+“Ah, my dear brother,” cried Madame Montaigne, starting up, and banging
+fondly on the arm of the stranger, “why have you lingered so long in the
+wood? You, so delicate! And how are you? How pale you seem!”
+
+“It is but the reflection of the moonlight, Teresa,” said the intruder;
+“I feel well.” So saying, he scowled on the merry party, and turned as
+if to slink away.
+
+“No, no,” whispered Teresa, “you must stay a moment and be presented
+to my guests: there is an Englishman here whom you will like--who will
+_interest_ you.”
+
+With that she almost dragged him forward, and introduced him to her
+guests. Signor Cesarini returned their salutations with a mixture of
+bashfulness and _hauteur_, half-awkward and half-graceful, and muttering
+some inaudible greeting, sank into a seat and appeared instantly lost
+in reverie. Maltravers gazed upon him, and was pleased with his
+aspect--which, if not handsome, was strange and peculiar. He was
+extremely slight and thin--his cheeks hollow and colourless, with
+a profusion of black silken ringlets that almost descended to his
+shoulders. His eyes, deeply sunk into his head, were large and intensely
+brilliant; and a thin moustache, curling downwards, gave an additional
+austerity to his mouth, which was closed with gloomy and half-sarcastic
+firmness. He was not dressed as people dress in general, but wore a
+frock of dark camlet, with a large shirt-collar turned down, and a
+narrow slip of black silk twisted rather than tied round his throat; his
+nether garments fitted tight to his limbs, and a pair of half-hessians
+completed his costume. It was evident that the young man (and he was
+very young--perhaps about nineteen or twenty) indulged that coxcombry of
+the Picturesque which is the sign of a vainer mind than is the commoner
+coxcombry of the _Mode_.
+
+It is astonishing how frequently it happens, that the introduction of
+a single intruder upon a social party is sufficient to destroy all the
+familiar harmony that existed there before. We see it even when the
+intruder is agreeable and communicative--but in the present instance, a
+ghost could scarcely have been a more unwelcoming or unwelcome visitor.
+The presence of this shy, speechless, supercilious-looking man threw a
+damp over the whole group. The gay Tirabaloschi immediately discovered
+that it was time to depart--it had not struck any one before, but it
+certainly _was_ late. The Italians began to bustle about, to collect
+their music, to make fine speeches and fine professions--to bow and to
+smile--to scramble into their boat, and to push towards the inn at Como,
+where they had engaged their quarters for the night. As the boat glided
+away, and while two of them were employed at the oar, the remaining
+four took up their instruments and sang a parting glee. It was quite
+midnight--the hush of all things around had grown more intense and
+profound--there was a wonderful might of silence in the shining air and
+amidst the shadows thrown by the near banks and the distant hills over
+the water. So that as the music chiming in with the oars grew fainter
+and fainter, it is impossible to describe the thrilling and magical
+effect it produced.
+
+The party ashore did not speak; there was a moisture, a grateful one,
+in the bright eyes of Teresa, as she leant upon the manly form of De
+Montaigne, for whom her attachment was, perhaps, yet more deep and
+pure for the difference of their ages. A girl who once loves a man, not
+indeed old, but much older than herself, loves him with such a _looking
+up_ and venerating love! Maltravers stood a little apart from the
+couple, on the edge of the shelving bank, with folded arms and
+thoughtful countenance. “How is it,” said he, unconscious that he was
+speaking half aloud, “that the commonest beings of the world should be
+able to give us a pleasure so unworldly? What a contrast between those
+musicians and this music. At this distance their forms are dimly seen,
+one might almost fancy the creators of those sweet sounds to be of
+another mould from us. Perhaps even thus the poetry of the Past rings
+on our ears--the deeper and the diviner, because removed from the clay
+which made the poets. O Art, Art! how dost thou beautify and exalt us;
+what is nature without thee!”
+
+“You are a poet, Signor,” said a soft clear voice beside the
+soliloquist; and Maltravers started to find that he had had unknowingly
+a listener in the young Cesarini.
+
+“No,” said Maltravers; “I cull the flowers, I do not cultivate the
+soil.”
+
+“And why not?” said Cesarini, with abrupt energy; “you are an
+Englishman--_you_ have a public--you have a country--you have a living
+stage, a breathing audience; we, Italians, have nothing but the dead.”
+
+As he looked on the young man, Maltravers was surprised to see the
+sudden animation which glowed upon his pale features.
+
+“You asked me a question I would fain put to you,” said the Englishman,
+after a pause. “_You_, methinks, are a poet?”
+
+“I have fancied that I might be one. But poetry with us is a bird in the
+wilderness--it sings from an impulse--the song dies without a listener.
+Oh that I belonged to a _living_ country,--France, England, Germany,
+Arnerica,--and not to the corruption of a dead giantess--for such is now
+the land of the ancient lyre.”
+
+“Let us meet again, and soon,” said Maltravers, holding out his hand.
+
+Cesarini hesitated a moment, and then accepted and returned the
+proffered salutation. Reserved as he was, something in Maltravers
+attracted him; and, indeed, there was that in Ernest which fascinated
+most of those unhappy eccentrics who do not move in the common orbit of
+the world.
+
+In a few moments more the Englishman had said farewell to the owner of
+the villa, and his light boat skimmed rapidly over the tide.
+
+“What do you think of the _Inglese_?” said Madame de Montaigne to her
+husband, as they turned towards the house. (They said not a word about
+the Milanese.)
+
+“He has a noble bearing for one so young,” said the Frenchman; “and
+seems to have seen the world, and both to have profited and to have
+suffered by it.”
+
+“He will prove an acquisition to our society here,” returned Teresa; “he
+interests me; and you, Castruccio?” turning to seek for her brother; but
+Cesarini had already, with his usual noiseless step, disappeared within
+the house.
+
+“Alas, my poor brother!” she said, “I cannot comprehend him. What does
+he desire?”
+
+“Fame!” replied De Montaigne, calmly. “It is a vain shadow; no wonder
+that he disquiets himself in vain.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+ “Alas! what boots it with incessant care
+  To strictly meditate the thankless Muse;
+  Were I not better done as others use,
+  To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,
+  Or with the tangles of Neaera’s hair?”
+    MILTON’S _Lycidas_.
+
+THERE is nothing more salutary to active men than occasional intervals
+of repose,--when we look within, instead of without, and examine almost
+_insensibly_ (for I hold strict and conscious self-scrutiny a thing much
+rarer than we suspect)--what we have done--what we are capable of doing.
+It is settling, as it were, a debtor and creditor account with the past,
+before we plunge into new speculations. Such an interval of repose
+did Maltravers now enjoy. In utter solitude, so far as familiar
+companionship is concerned, he had for several weeks been making himself
+acquainted with his own character and mind. He read and thought much,
+but without any exact or defined object. I think it is Montaigne who
+says somewhere: “People talk about thinking--but for my part I never
+think, except when I sit down to write.” I believe this is not a very
+common case, for people who don’t write think as well as people who do;
+but connected, severe, well-developed thought, in contradistinction to
+vague meditation, must be connected with some tangible plan or object;
+and therefore we must be either writing men or acting men, if we desire
+to test the logic, and unfold into symmetrical design the fused colours
+of our reasoning faculty. Maltravers did not yet feel this, but he was
+sensible of some intellectual want. His ideas, his memories, his dreams
+crowded thick and confused upon him; he wished to arrange them in order,
+and he could not. He was overpowered by the unorganised affluence of his
+own imagination and intellect. He had often, even as a child, fancied
+that he was formed to do something in the world, but he had never
+steadily considered what it was to be, whether he was to become a man
+of books or a man of deeds. He had written poetry when it poured
+irresistibly from the fount of emotion within, but looked at his
+effusions with a cold and neglectful eye when the enthusiasm had passed
+away.
+
+Maltravers was not much gnawed by the desire of fame--perhaps few men of
+real genius are, until artificially worked up to it. There is in a
+sound and correct intellect, with all its gifts fairly balanced, a calm
+consciousness of power, a certainty that when its strength is fairly
+put out, it must be to realise the usual result of strength. Men
+of second-rate faculties, on the contrary, are fretful and nervous,
+fidgeting after a celebrity which they do not estimate by their own
+talents, but by the talents of some one else. They see a tower, but
+are occupied only with measuring its shadow, and think their own height
+(which they never calculate) is to cast as broad a one over the earth.
+It is the short man who is always throwing up his chin, and is as erect
+as a dart. The tall man stoops, and the strong man is not always using
+the dumb-bells.
+
+Maltravers had not yet, then, the keen and sharp yearning for
+reputation; he had not, as yet, tasted its sweets and bitters--fatal
+draught, which _once_ tasted, begets too often an insatiable thirst!
+neither had he enemies and decriers whom he was desirous of abashing by
+merit. And that is a very ordinary cause for exertion in proud minds. He
+was, it is true, generally reputed clever, and fools were afraid of
+him: but as he actively interfered with no man’s pretensions, so no man
+thought it necessary to call him a blockhead. At present, therefore, it
+was quietly and naturally that his mind was working its legitimate way
+to its destiny of exertion. He began idly and carelessly to note down
+his thoughts and impressions; what was once put on the paper, begot
+new matter; his ideas became more lucid to himself; and the page grew
+a looking-glass, which presented the likeness of his own features. He
+began by writing with rapidity, and without method. He had no object but
+to please himself, and to find a vent for an overcharged spirit; and,
+like most writings of the young, the matter was egotistical. We commence
+with the small nucleus of passion and experience, to widen the circle
+afterwards; and, perhaps, the most extensive and universal masters of
+life and character have begun by being egotists. For there is in a man
+that has much in him a wonderfully acute and sensitive perception of his
+own existence. An imaginative and susceptible person has, indeed, ten
+times as much life as a dull fellow, “an he be Hercules.” He multiplies
+himself in a thousand objects, associates each with his own identity,
+lives in each, and almost looks upon the world with its infinite objects
+as a part of his individual being. Afterwards, as he tames down, he
+withdraws his forces into the citadel, but he still has a knowledge of,
+and an interest in, the land they once covered. He understands
+other people, for he has lived in other people--the dead and the
+living;--fancied himself now Brutus and now Caesar, and thought how _he_
+should act in almost every imaginable circumstance of life.
+
+Thus, when he begins to paint human characters, essentially different
+from his own, his knowledge comes to him almost intuitively. It is as if
+he were describing the mansions in which he himself has formerly
+lodged, though for a short time. Hence in great writers of History--of
+Romance--of the Drama--the _gusto_ with which they paint their
+personages; their creations are flesh and blood, not shadows or
+machines.
+
+Maltravers was at first, then, an egotist, in the matter of his rude and
+desultory sketches--in the manner, as I said before, he was careless and
+negligent, as men will be who have not yet found that expression is
+an art. Still those wild and valueless essays--those rapt and secret
+confessions of his own heart--were a delight to him. He began to taste
+the transport, the intoxication of an author. And, oh, what a luxury
+is there in that first love of the Muse! that process by which we give
+palpable form to the long-intangible visions which have flitted across
+us;--the beautiful ghost of the Ideal within us, which we invoke in the
+Gadara of our still closets, with the wand of the simple pen!
+
+It was early noon, the day after he had formed his acquaintance with the
+De Montaignes, that Maltravers sat in his favourite room;--the one
+he had selected for his study from the many chambers of his large and
+solitary habitation. He sat in a recess by the open window, which looked
+on the lake; and books were scattered on his table, and Maltravers
+was jotting down his criticisms on what he read, mingled with
+his impressions on what he saw. It is the pleasantest kind of
+composition--the note-book of a man who studies in retirement, who
+observes in society, who in all things can admire and feel. He was yet
+engaged in this easy task, when Cesarini was announced, and the young
+brother of the fair Teresa entered his apartment.
+
+“I have availed myself soon of your invitation,” said the Italian.
+
+“I acknowledge the compliment,” replied Maltravers, pressing the hand
+shyly held out to him.
+
+“I see you have been writing--I thought you were attached to literature.
+I read it in your countenance, I heard it in your voice,” said Cesarini,
+seating himself.
+
+“I have been idly beguiling a very idle leisure, it is true,” said
+Maltravers.
+
+“But you do not write for yourself alone--you have an eye to the great
+tribunals--Time and the Public.”
+
+“Not so, I assure you honestly,” said Maltravers, smiling. “If you
+look at the books on my table, you will see that they are the great
+masterpieces of ancient and modern lore--these are studies that
+discourage tyros--”
+
+“But inspire them.”
+
+“I do not think so. Models may form our taste as critics, but do not
+excite us to be authors. I fancy that our own emotions, our own sense
+of our destiny, make the great lever of the inert matter we accumulate.
+‘Look in thy heart and write,’ said an old English writer,* who did not,
+however, practise what he preached. And you, Signor--”
+
+* Sir Philip Sidney.
+
+“Am nothing, and would be something,” said the young man, shortly and
+bitterly.
+
+“And how does that wish not realise its object?”
+
+“Merely because I am Italian,” said Cesarini. “With us there is no
+literary public--no vast reading class--we have dilettanti and literati,
+and students, and even authors; but these make only a coterie, not a
+public. I have written, I have published; but no one listened to me. I
+am an author without readers.”
+
+“It is no uncommon case in England,” said Maltravers.
+
+The Italian continued: “I thought to live in the mouths of men--to stir
+up thoughts long dumb--to awaken the strings of the old lyre! In vain.
+Like the nightingale, I sing only to break my heart with a false and
+melancholy emulation of other notes.”
+
+“There are epochs in all countries,” said Maltravers, gently, “when
+peculiar veins of literature are out of vogue, and when no genius
+can bring them into public notice. But you wisely said there were two
+tribunals--the Public and Time. You have still the last to appeal to.
+Your great Italian historians wrote for the unborn--their works not even
+published till their death. That indifference to living reputation has
+in it, to me, something of the sublime.”
+
+“I cannot imitate them--and they were not poets,” said Cesarini,
+sharply. “To poets, praise is a necessary aliment; neglect is death.”
+
+“My dear Signor Cesarini,” said the Englishman, feelingly, “do not give
+way to these thoughts. There ought to be in a healthful ambition the
+stubborn stuff of persevering longevity; it must live on, and hope
+for the day which comes slow or fast, to all whose labours deserve the
+goal.”
+
+“But perhaps mine do not. I sometimes fear so--it is a horrid thought.”
+
+“You are very young yet,” said Maltravers; “how few at your age ever
+sicken for fame! That first step is, perhaps, the half way to the
+prize.”
+
+I am not sure that Ernest thought exactly as he spoke; but it was the
+most delicate consolation to offer to a man whose abrupt frankness
+embarrassed and distressed him. The young man shook his head
+despondingly. Maltravers tried to change the subject--he rose and moved
+to the balcony, which overhung the lake--he talked of the weather--he
+dwelt on the exquisite scenery--he pointed to the minute and more latent
+beauties around, with the eye and taste of one who had looked at Nature
+in her details. The poet grew more animated and cheerful; he became even
+eloquent; he quoted poetry and he talked it. Maltravers was more and
+more interested in him. He felt a curiosity to know if his talents
+equalled his aspirations: he hinted to Cesarini his wish to see his
+compositions--it was just what the young man desired. Poor Cesarini!
+It was much to him to get a new listener, and he fondly imagined every
+honest listener must be a warm admirer. But with the coyness of his
+caste, he affected reluctance and hesitation; he dallied with his own
+impatient yearnings. And Maltravers, to smooth his way, proposed an
+excursion on the lake.
+
+“One of my men shall row,” said he; “you shall recite to me, and I will
+be to you what the old housekeeper was to Moliere.”
+
+Maltravers had deep good-nature where he was touched, though he had not
+a superfluity of what is called good-humour, which floats on the surface
+and smiles on all alike. He had much of the milk of human kindness, but
+little of its oil.
+
+The poet assented, and they were soon upon the lake. It was a sultry
+day, and it was noon; so the boat crept slowly along by the shadow of
+the shore, and Cesarini drew from his breast-pocket some manuscripts of
+small and beautiful writing. Who does not know the pains a young poet
+takes to bestow a fair dress on his darling rhymes!
+
+Cesarini read well and feelingly. Everything was in favour of the
+reader. His own poetical countenance--his voice, his enthusiasm,
+half-suppressed--the pre-engaged interest of the auditor--the dreamy
+loveliness of the hour and scene--(for there is a great deal as to time
+in these things). Maltravers listened intently. It is very difficult to
+judge of the exact merit of poetry in another language even when we
+know that language well--so much is there in the untranslatable magic of
+expression, the little subtleties of style. But Maltravers, fresh, as
+he himself had said, from the study of great and original writers,
+could not but feel that he was listening to feeble though melodious
+mediocrity. It was the poetry of words, not things. He thought it cruel,
+however, to be hypercritical, and he uttered all the commonplaces of
+eulogium that occurred to him. The young man was enchanted: “And yet,”
+ said he with a sigh, “I have no Public. In England they would appreciate
+me.” Alas! in England, at that moment, there were five hundred poets as
+young, as ardent, and yet more gifted, whose hearts beat with the same
+desire--whose nerves were broken by the same disappointments.
+
+Maltravers found that his young friend would not listen to any judgment
+not purely favourable. The archbishop in _Gil Blas_ was not more touchy
+upon any criticism that was not panegyric. Maltravers thought it a bad
+sign, but he recollected Gil Blas, and prudently refrained from bringing
+on himself the benevolent wish of “beaucoup de bonheur et un peu, plus
+de bon gout.” When Cesarini had finished his MS., he was anxious to
+conclude the excursion--he longed to be at home, and think over the
+admiration he had excited. But he left his poems with Maltravers, and
+getting on shore by the remains of Pliny’s villa, was soon out of sight.
+
+Maltravers that evening read the poems with attention. His first opinion
+was confirmed. The young man wrote without knowledge. He had never felt
+the passions he painted, never been in the situations he described.
+There was no originality in him, for there was no experience; it was
+exquisite mechanism, his verse,--nothing more. It might well deceive
+him, for it could not but flatter his ear--and Tasso’s silver march rang
+not more musically than did the chiming stanzas of Castruccio Cesarini.
+
+The perusal of this poetry, and his conversation with the poet, threw
+Maltravers into a fit of deep musing. “This poor Cesarini may warn me
+against myself!” thought he. “Better hew wood and draw water than attach
+ourselves devotedly to an art in which we have not the capacity to
+excel.... It is to throw away the healthful objects of life for a
+diseased dream,--worse than the Rosicrucians, it is to make a sacrifice
+of all human beauty for the smile of a sylphid that never visits us but
+in visions.” Maltravers looked over his own compositions, and thrust
+them into the fire. He slept ill that night. His pride was a little
+dejected. He was like a beauty who has seen a caricature of herself.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ “Still follow SENSE, of every art the Soul.”
+    POPE: _Moral Essays_--Essay iv.
+
+ERNEST MALTRAVERS spent much of his time with the family of De
+Montaigne. There is no period of life in which we are more accessible
+to the sentiment of friendship than in the intervals of moral exhaustion
+which succeed to the disappointments of the passions. There is, then,
+something inviting in those gentler feelings which keep alive, but do
+not fever, the circulation of the affections. Maltravers looked with
+the benevolence of a brother upon the brilliant, versatile, and restless
+Teresa. She was the last person in the world he could have been in
+love with--for his nature, ardent, excitable, yet fastidious, required
+something of repose in the manners and temperament of the woman whom he
+could love, and Teresa scarcely knew what repose was. Whether playing
+with her children (and she had two lovely ones--the eldest six years
+old), or teasing her calm and meditative husband, or pouring out
+extempore verses, or rattling over airs which she never finished, on
+the guitar or piano--or making excursions on the lake--or, in short, in
+whatever occupation she appeared as the Cynthia of the minute, she was
+always gay and mobile--never out of humour, never acknowledging a
+single care or cross in life--never susceptible of grief, save when her
+brother’s delicate health or morbid temper saddened her atmosphere
+of sunshine. Even then, the sanguine elasticity of her mind and
+constitution quickly recovered from the depression; and she persuaded
+herself that Castruccio would grow stronger every year, and ripen into
+a celebrated and happy man. Castruccio himself lived what romantic
+poetasters call the “life of a poet.” He loved to see the sun rise over
+the distant Alps--or the midnight moon sleeping on the lake. He spent
+half the day, and often half the night, in solitary rambles, weaving his
+airy rhymes, or indulging his gloomy reveries, and he thought loneliness
+made the element of a poet. Alas! Dante, Alfieri, even Petrarch might
+have taught him, that a poet must have intimate knowledge of men as well
+as mountains, if he desire to become the CREATOR. When Shelley, in one
+of his prefaces, boasts of being familiar with Alps and glaciers, and
+Heaven knows what, the critical artist cannot help wishing that he had
+been rather familiar with Fleet Street or the Strand. Perhaps, then,
+that remarkable genius might have been more capable of realizing
+characters of flesh and blood, and have composed corporeal and
+consummate wholes, not confused and glittering fragments.
+
+Though Ernest was attached to Teresa and deeply interested in
+Castruccio, it was De Montaigne for whom he experienced the higher and
+graver sentiment of esteem. This Frenchman was one acquainted with a
+much larger world than that of the Coteries. He had served in the army,
+had been employed with distinction in civil affairs, and was of that
+robust and healthful moral constitution which can bear with every
+variety of social life, and estimate calmly the balance of our moral
+fortunes. Trial and experience had left him that true philosopher who
+is too wise to be an optimist, too just to be a misanthrope. He enjoyed
+life with sober judgment, and pursued the path most suited to himself,
+without declaring it to be the best for others. He was a little hard,
+perhaps, upon the errors that belong to weakness and conceit--not to
+those that have their source in great natures or generous thoughts.
+Among his characteristics was a profound admiration for England. His own
+country he half loved, yet half disdained. The impetuosity and levity of
+his compatriots displeased his sober and dignified notions. He could
+not forgive them (he was wont to say) for having made the two grand
+experiments of popular revolution and military despotism in vain. He
+sympathised neither with the young enthusiasts who desired a republic,
+without well knowing the numerous strata of habits and customs upon
+which that fabric, if designed for permanence, should be built--nor with
+the uneducated and fierce chivalry that longed for a restoration of the
+warrior empire--nor with the dull and arrogant bigots who connected all
+ideas of order and government with the ill-starred and worn-out dynasty
+of the Bourbons. In fact, GOOD SENSE was with him the _principium et
+fons_ of all theories and all practice. And it was this quality that
+attached him to the English. His philosophy on this head was rather
+curious.
+
+“Good sense,” said he one day to Maltravers, as they were walking to and
+fro at De Montaigne’s villa, by the margin of the lake, “is not a merely
+intellectual attribute. It is rather the result of a just equilibrium
+of all our faculties, spiritual and moral. The dishonest, or the toys of
+their own passions, may have genius; but they rarely, if ever, have good
+sense in the conduct of life. They may often win large prizes, but it is
+by a game of chance, not skill. But the man whom I perceive walking an
+honourable and upright career--just to others, and also to himself
+(for we owe justice to ourselves--to the care of our fortunes, our
+character--to the management of our passions)--is a more dignified
+representative of his Maker than the mere child of genius. Of such a man
+we say he has GOOD SENSE; yes, but he has also integrity, self-respect,
+and self-denial. A thousand trials which his sense raves and conquers,
+are temptations also to his probity--his temper--in a word, to all the
+many sides of his complicated nature. Now, I do not think he will have
+this _good sense_ any more than a drunkard will have strong nerves,
+unless he be in the constant habit of keeping his mind clear from the
+intoxication of envy, vanity, and the various emotions that dupe and
+mislead us. Good sense is not, therefore, an abstract quality or a
+solitary talent; but it is the natural result of the habit of thinking
+justly, and therefore seeing clearly, and is as different from the
+sagacity that belongs to a diplomatist or attorney, as the philosophy of
+Socrates differed from the rhetoric of Gorgias. As a mass of individual
+excellences make up this attribute in a man, so a mass of such men thus
+characterised give a character to a nation. Your England is, therefore,
+renowned for its good sense, but it is renowned also for the excellences
+which accompany strong sense in an individual--high honesty and faith
+in its dealings, a warm love of justice and fair play, a general freedom
+from the violent crimes common on the Continent, and the energetic
+perseverance in enterprise once commenced, which results from a bold and
+healthful disposition.”
+
+“Our wars, our debt--” began Maltravers.
+
+“Pardon me,” interrupted De Montaigne, “I am speaking of your
+people, not of your government. A government is often a very unfair
+representative of a nation. But even in the wars you allude to, if you
+examine, you will generally find them originate in the love of justice,
+which is the basis of good sense, not from any insane desire of conquest
+or glory. A man, however sensible, must have a heart in his bosom, and
+a great nation cannot be a piece of selfish clockwork. Suppose you and
+I are sensible, prudent men, and we see in a crowd one violent fellow
+unjustly knocking another on the head, we should be brutes, not men, if
+we did not interfere with the savage; but if we thrust ourselves into a
+crowd with a large bludgeon, and belabour our neighbours, with the hope
+that the spectators would cry, ‘See what a bold, strong fellow that
+is!’--then we should be only playing the madman from the motive of the
+coxcomb. I fear you will find in the military history of the French and
+English the application of my parable.”
+
+“Yet still, I confess, there is a gallantry, and a noblemanlike and
+Norman spirit in the whole French nation, which make me forgive many
+of their excesses, and think they are destined for great purposes, when
+experience shall have sobered their hot blood. Some nations, as some
+men, are slow in arriving at maturity; others seem men in their
+cradle. The English, thanks to their sturdy Saxon origin, elevated, not
+depressed, by the Norman infusion, never were children. The difference
+is striking, when you regard the representatives of both in their great
+men--whether writers or active citizens.”
+
+“Yes,” said De Montaigne, “in Milton and Cromwell there is nothing of
+the brilliant child. I cannot say as much for Voltaire or Napoleon.
+Even Richelieu, the manliest of our statesmen, had so much of the French
+infant in him as to fancy himself a _beau garcon_, a gallant, a wit, and
+a poet. As for the Racine school of writers, they were not out of the
+leading-strings of imitation--cold copyists of a pseudo-classic, in
+which they saw the form, and never caught the spirit. What so little
+Roman, Greek, Hebrew, as their Roman, Greek, and Hebrew dramas?
+Your rude Shakespeare’s _Julius Caesar_--even his _Troilus and
+Cressida_--have the ancient spirit, precisely as they are imitations of
+nothing ancient. But our Frenchmen copied the giant images of old just
+as the school-girl copies a drawing, by holding it up to the window, and
+tracing the lines on silver paper.”
+
+“But your new writers--De Stael--Chateaubriand?” *
+
+* At the time of this conversation the later school, adorned by Victor
+Hugo, who, with notions of art elaborately wrong, is still a man
+of extraordinary genius, had not risen into its present equivocal
+reputation.
+
+“I find no fault with the sentimentalists,” answered the severe critic,
+“but that of exceeding feebleness. They have no bone and muscle in their
+genius--all is flaccid and rotund in its feminine symmetry. They seem to
+think that vigour consists in florid phrases and little aphorisms, and
+delineate all the mighty tempests of the human heart with the polished
+prettiness of a miniature-painter on ivory. No!--these two are children
+of another kind--affected, tricked-out, well-dressed children--very
+clever, very precocious--but children still. Their whinings, and their
+sentimentalities, and their egotism, and their vanity, cannot interest
+masculine beings who know what life and its stern objects are.”
+
+“Your brother-in-law,” said Maltravers with a slight smile, “must find
+in you a discouraging censor.”
+
+“My poor Castruccio,” replied De Montaigne, with a half-sigh; “he is one
+of those victims whom I believe to be more common than we dream of--men
+whose aspirations are above their powers. I agree with a great German
+writer, that in the first walks of Art no man has a right to enter,
+unless he is convinced that he has strength and speed for the goal.
+Castruccio might be an amiable member of society, nay, an able and
+useful man, if he would apply the powers he possesses to the rewards
+they may obtain. He has talent enough to win him reputation in any
+profession but that of a poet.”
+
+“But authors who obtain immortality are not always first-rate.”
+
+“First-rate in their way, I suspect; even if that way be false or
+trivial. They must be connected with the _history_ of their literature;
+you must be able to say of them, ‘In this school, be it bad or good,
+they exerted such and such an influence;’ in a word, they must form a
+link in the great chain of a nation’s authors, which may be afterwards
+forgotten by the superficial, but without which the chain would be
+incomplete. And thus, if not first-rate for all time, they have
+been first-rate in their own day. But Castruccio is only the echo of
+others--he can neither found a school nor ruin one. Yet this” (again
+added De Montaigne after a pause)--“this melancholy malady in my
+brother-in-law would cure itself, perhaps, if he were not Italian. In
+your animated and bustling country, after sufficient disappointment as a
+poet, he would glide into some other calling, and his vanity and craving
+for effect would find a rational and manly outlet. But in Italy, what
+can a clever man do, if he is not a poet or a robber? If he love his
+country, that crime is enough to unfit him for civil employment, and
+his mind cannot stir a step in the bold channels of speculation without
+falling foul of the Austrian or the Pope. No; the best I can hope for
+Castruccio is, that he will end in an antiquary, and dispute about ruins
+with the Romans. Better that than mediocre poetry.”
+
+Maltravers was silent and thoughtful. Strange to say, De Montaigne’s
+views did not discourage his own new and secret ardour for intellectual
+triumphs; not because he felt that he was now able to achieve them, but
+because he felt the iron of his own nature, and knew that a man who
+has iron in his nature must ultimately hit upon some way of shaping the
+metal into use.
+
+The host and guest were now joined by Castruccio himself--silent and
+gloomy as indeed he usually was, especially in the presence of De
+Montaigne, with whom he felt his “self-love” wounded; for though he
+longed to despise his hard brother-in-law, the young poet was compelled
+to acknowledge that De Montaigne was not a man to be despised.
+
+Maltravers dined with the De Montaignes, and spent the evening with
+them. He could not but observe that Castruccio, who affected in his
+verses the softest sentiments--who was, indeed, by original nature,
+tender and gentle--had become so completely warped by that worst of all
+mental vices--the eternally pondering on his own excellences, talents,
+mortifications, and ill-usage, that he never contributed to the
+gratification of those around him; he had none of the little arts of
+social benevolence, none of the playful youth of disposition
+which usually belongs to the good-hearted, and for which men of a
+master-genius, however elevated their studies, however stern or reserved
+to the vulgar world, are commonly noticeable amidst the friends they
+love or in the home they adorn. Occupied with one dream, centred
+in self, the young Italian was sullen and morose to all who did
+not sympathise with his own morbid fancies. From the children--the
+sister--the friend--the whole living earth, he fled to a poem on
+Solitude, or stanzas upon Fame. Maltravers said to himself, “I will
+never be an author--I will never sigh for renown--if I am to purchase
+shadows at such a price!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+ “It cannot be too deeply impressed on the mind, that application
+  is the price to be paid for mental acquisitions, and that it is
+  as absurd to expect them without it as to hope for a harvest
+  where we have not sown the seed.
+
+ “In everything we do, we may be possibly laying a train of
+  consequences, the operation of which may terminate only with
+  our existence.”
+
+   BAILEY: _Essays on the Formation and Publication of Opinions_.
+
+TIME passed, and autumn was far advanced towards winter; still
+Maltravers lingered at Como. He saw little of any other family than that
+of the De Montaignes, and the greater part of his time was necessarily
+spent alone. His occupation continued to be that of making experiments
+of his own powers, and these gradually became bolder and more
+comprehensive. He took care, however, not to show his “Diversions of
+Como” to his new friends: he wanted no audience--he dreamt of no Public;
+he desired merely to practise his own mind. He became aware, of his own
+accord, as he proceeded, that a man can neither study with such depth,
+nor compose with much art, unless he has some definite object before
+him; in the first, some one branch of knowledge to master; in the last,
+some one conception to work out. Maltravers fell back upon his boyish
+passion for metaphysical speculation; but with what different
+results did he now wrestle with the subtle schoolmen, now that he had
+practically known mankind. How insensibly new lights broke in upon him,
+as he threaded the labyrinth of cause and effect, by which we seek to
+arrive at that curious and biform monster--our own nature. His
+mind became saturated, as it were, with these profound studies and
+meditations; and when at length he paused from them, he felt as if
+he had not been living in solitude, but had gone through a process of
+action in the busy world: so much juster, so much clearer, had become
+his knowledge of himself and others. But though these researches
+coloured, they did not limit his intellectual pursuits. Poetry and the
+lighter letters became to him not merely a relaxation, but a critical
+and thoughtful study. He delighted to penetrate into the causes that
+have made the airy webs spun by men’s fancies so permanent and powerful
+in their influence over the hard, work-day world. And what a lovely
+scene--what a sky--what an air wherein to commence the projects of that
+ambition which seeks to establish an empire in the hearts and memories
+of mankind! I believe it has a great effect on the future labours of
+a writer,--the place where he first dreams that it is his destiny to
+write!
+
+From these pursuits Ernest was aroused by another letter from Cleveland.
+His kind friend had been disappointed and vexed that Maltravers did not
+follow his advice, and return to England. He had shown his displeasure
+by not answering Ernest’s letter of excuses; but lately he had been
+seized with a dangerous illness which reduced him to the brink of the
+grave; and with a heart softened by the exhaustion of the frame, he now
+wrote in the first moments of convalescence to Maltravers, informing
+him of his attack and danger, and once more urging him to return. The
+thought that Cleveland--the dear, kind gentle guardian of his youth--had
+been near unto death, that he might never more have hung upon that
+fostering hand, nor replied to that paternal voice, smote Ernest with
+terror and remorse. He resolved instantly to return to England, and made
+his preparations accordingly.
+
+He went to take leave of the De Montaignes. Teresa was trying to teach
+her first-born to read; and seated by the open window of the villa, in
+her neat, not precise, _dishabille_--with the little boy’s delicate, yet
+bold and healthy countenance looking up fearlessly at hers, while she
+was endeavouring to initiate him--half gravely, half laughingly--into
+the mysteries of monosyllables, the pretty boy and the fair young mother
+made a delightful picture. De Montaigne was reading the Essays of his
+celebrated namesake, in whom he boasted, I know not with what justice,
+to claim an ancestor. From time to time he looked from the page to take
+a glance at the progress of his heir, and keep up with the march of
+intellect. But he did not interfere with the maternal lecture; he was
+wise enough to know that there is a kind of sympathy between a child and
+a mother, which is worth all the grave superiority of a father in making
+learning palatable to young years. He was far too clever a man not to
+despise all the systems of forcing infants under knowledge-frames, which
+are the present fashion. He knew that philosophers never made a greater
+mistake than in insisting so much upon beginning abstract education
+from the cradle. It is quite enough to attend to an infant’s temper, and
+correct that cursed predilection for telling fibs which falsifies all
+Dr. Reid’s absurd theory about innate propensities to truth, and makes
+the prevailing epidemic of the nursery. Above all, what advantage ever
+compensates for hurting a child’s health or breaking his spirit? Never
+let him learn, more than you can help it, the crushing bitterness of
+fear. A bold child who looks you in the face, speaks the truth, and
+shames the devil; that is the stuff of which to make good and brave--ay,
+and wise men!
+
+Maltravers entered, unannounced, into this charming family party, and
+stood unobserved for a few moments, by the open door. The little pupil
+was the first to perceive him, and, forgetful of monosyllables, ran
+to greet him; for Maltravers, though gentle rather than gay, was a
+favourite with children, and his fair, calm, gracious countenance did
+more for him with them than if, like Goldsmith’s Burchell, his pockets
+had been filled with gingerbread and apples. “Ah, fie on you, Mr.
+Maltravers!” cried Teresa, rising; “you have blown away all the
+characters I have been endeavouring this last hour to imprint upon
+sand.”
+
+“Not so, Signora,” said Maltravers, seating himself, and placing the
+child on his knee; “my young friend will set to work again with a
+greater gusto after this little break in upon his labours.”
+
+“You will stay with us all day, I hope?” said De Montaigne.
+
+“Indeed,” said Maltravers, “I am come to ask permission to do so, for
+to-morrow I depart for England.”
+
+“Is it possible?” cried Teresa. “How sudden! How we shall miss you! Oh!
+don’t go. But perhaps you have bad news from England?”
+
+“I have news that summon me hence,” replied Maltravers; “my guardian
+and second father has been dangerously ill. I am uneasy about him,
+and reproach myself for having forgotten him so long in your seductive
+society.”
+
+“I am really sorry to lose you,” said De Montaigne, with greater warmth
+in his tone than in his words. “I hope heartily we shall meet again
+soon: you will come, perhaps, to Paris?”
+
+“Probably,” said Maltravers; “and you, perhaps, to England?”
+
+“Ah, how I should like it!” exclaimed Teresa.
+
+“No, you would not,” said her husband; “you would not like England
+at all; you would call it _triste_ beyond measure. It is one of those
+countries of which a native should be proud, but which has no amusement
+for a stranger, precisely because full of such serious and stirring
+occupations to the citizens. The pleasantest countries for strangers are
+the worst countries for natives (witness Italy), and _vice versa_.”
+
+Teresa shook her dark curls, and would not be convinced.
+
+“And where is Castruccio?” asked Maltravers.
+
+“In his boat on the lake,” replied Teresa. “He will be inconsolable
+at your departure: you are the only person he can understand, or who
+understand him; the only person in Italy--I had almost said in the whole
+world.”
+
+“Well, we shall meet at dinner,” said Ernest; “meanwhile let me prevail
+on you to accompany me to the _Pliniana_. I wish to say farewell to that
+crystal spring.”
+
+Teresa, delighted at any excursion, readily consented.
+
+“And I too, mamma,” cried the child; “and my little sister?”
+
+“Oh, certainly,” said Maltravers, speaking for the parents.
+
+So the party was soon ready, and they pushed off in the clear genial
+noontide (for November in Italy is as early as September in the North)
+across the sparkling and dimpled waters. The children prattled, and the
+grown-up people talked on a thousand matters. It was a pleasant day,
+that last day at Como! For the farewells of friendship have indeed
+something of the melancholy, but not the anguish, of those of love.
+Perhaps it would be better if we could get rid of love altogether. Life
+would go on smoother and happier without it. Friendship is the wine of
+existence, but love is the dram-drinking.
+
+When they returned, they found Castruccio seated on the lawn. He did not
+appear so much dejected at the prospect of Ernest’s departure as Teresa
+had anticipated; for Castruccio Cesarini was a very jealous man, and he
+had lately been chagrined and discontented with seeing the delight that
+the De Montaignes took in Ernest’s society.
+
+“Why is this?” he often asked himself; “why are they more pleased with
+this stranger’s society than mine? My ideas are as fresh, as original;
+I have as much genius, yet even my dry brother-in-law allows _his_
+talents, and predicts that _he_ will be an eminent man! while
+_I_--No!--one is not a prophet in one’s own country!”
+
+Unhappy man! his mind bore all the rank weeds of the morbid poetical
+character, and the weeds choked up the flowers that the soil, properly
+cultivated, should alone bear. Yet that crisis in life awaited
+Castruccio, in which a sensitive and poetical man is made or marred; the
+crisis in which a sentiment is replaced by the passions--in which love
+for some real object gathers the scattered rays of the heart into a
+focus: out of that ordeal he might pass a purer and manlier being--so
+Maltravers often hoped. Maltravers then little thought how closely
+connected with his own fate was to be that passage in the history of the
+Italian. Castruccio contrived to take Maltravers aside, and as he led
+the Englishman through the wood that backed the mansion, he said, with
+some embarrassment, “You go, I suppose, to London?”
+
+“I shall pass through it--can I execute any commission for you?”
+
+“Why, yes; my poems!--I think of publishing them in England: your
+aristocracy cultivate the Italian letters; and, perhaps, I may be read
+by the fair and noble--_that_ is the proper audience of poets. For the
+vulgar herd--I disdain it!”
+
+“My dear Castruccio, I will undertake to see your poems published in
+London, if you wish it; but do not be sanguine. In England we read
+little poetry, even in our own language, and we are shamefully
+indifferent to foreign literature.”
+
+“Yes, foreign literature generally, and you are right; but my poems
+are of another kind. They must command attention in a polished and
+intelligent circle.”
+
+“Well! let the experiment be tried; you can let me have the poems when
+we part.”
+
+“I thank you,” said Castruccio, in a joyous tone, pressing his friend’s
+hand; and for the rest of that evening, he seemed an altered being; he
+even caressed the children, and did not sneer at the grave conversation
+of his brother-in-law.
+
+When Maltravers rose to depart, Castruccio gave him the packet; and
+then, utterly engrossed with his own imagined futurity of fame,
+vanished from the room to indulge his reveries. He cared no longer
+for Maltravers--he had put him to use--he could not be sorry for his
+departure, for that departure was the Avatar of His appearance to a new
+world.
+
+A small dull rain was falling, though, at intervals, the stars broke
+through the unsettled clouds, and Teresa did not therefore venture from
+the house; she presented her smooth cheek to the young guest to salute,
+pressed him by the hand, and bade him adieu with tears in her eyes.
+“Ah!” said she, “when we meet again I hope you will be married--I shall
+love your wife dearly. There is no happiness like marriage and home!”
+ and she looked with ingenuous tenderness at De Montaigne.
+
+Maltravers sighed;--his thoughts flew back to Alice. Where now was that
+lone and friendless girl, whose innocent love had once brightened a
+home for _him_? He answered by a vague and mechanical commonplace, and
+quitted the room with De Montaigne, who insisted on seeing him depart.
+As they neared the lake, De Montaigne broke the silence.
+
+“My dear Maltravers,” he said, with a serious and thoughtful affection
+in his voice, “we may not meet again for years. I have a warm interest
+in your happiness and career--yes, _career_--I repeat the word. I do not
+habitually seek to inspire young men with ambition. Enough for most
+of them to be good and honourable citizens. But in your case it is
+different. I see in you the earnest and meditative, not rash and
+overweening youth, which is usually productive of a distinguished
+manhood. Your mind is not yet settled, it is true; but it is fast
+becoming clear and mellow from the first ferment of boyish dreams
+and passions. You have everything in your favour,--competence, birth,
+connections; and, above all, you are an Englishman! You have a mighty
+stage, on which, it is true, you cannot establish a footing without
+merit and without labour--so much the better; in which strong and
+resolute rivals will urge you on to emulation, and then competition will
+task your keenest powers. Think what a glorious fate it is, to have
+an influence on the vast, but ever-growing mind of such a country,--to
+feel, when you retire from the busy scene, that you have played an
+unforgotten part--that you have been the medium, under God’s great will,
+of circulating new ideas throughout the world--of upholding the glorious
+priesthood of the Honest and the Beautiful. This is the true ambition;
+the desire of mere personal notoriety is vanity, not ambition. Do not
+then be lukewarm or supine. The trait I have observed in you,” added
+the Frenchman, with a smile, “most prejudicial to your chances of
+distinction is, that you are _too_ philosophical, too apt to _cui
+bono_ all the exertions that interfere with the indolence of cultivated
+leisure. And you must not suppose, Maltravers, that an active career
+will be a path of roses. At present you have no enemies; but the moment
+you attempt distinction, you will be abused; calumniated, reviled.
+You will be shocked at the wrath you excite, and sigh for your old
+obscurity, and consider, as Franklin has it, that ‘you have paid too
+dear for your whistle.’ But in return for individual enemies, what a
+noble recompense to have made the Public itself your friend; perhaps
+even Posterity your familiar! Besides,” added De Montaigne, with almost
+a religious solemnity in his voice, “there is a conscience of the head
+as well as of the heart, and in old age we feel as much remorse if
+we have wasted our natural talents as if we had perverted our natural
+virtues. The profound and exultant satisfaction with which a man who
+knows that he has not lived in vain--that he has entailed on the
+world an heirloom of instruction or delight--looks back upon departed
+struggles, is one of the happiest emotions of which the conscience can
+be capable. What, indeed, are the petty faults we commit as individuals,
+affecting but a narrow circle, ceasing with our own lives, to the
+incalculable and everlasting good we may produce as public men by one
+book or by one law? Depend upon it that the Almighty, who sums up all
+the good and all the evil done by His creatures in a just balance, will
+not judge the august benefactors of the world with the same severity
+as those drones of society, who have no great services to show in the
+eternal ledger, as a set-off to the indulgence of their small vices.
+These things rightly considered, Maltravers, you will have every
+inducement that can tempt a lofty mind and a pure ambition to awaken
+from the voluptuous indolence of the literary Sybarite, and contend
+worthily in the world’s wide Altis for a great prize.”
+
+Maltravers never before felt so flattered--so stirred into high
+resolves. The stately eloquence, the fervid encouragement of this man,
+usually so cold and fastidious, roused him like the sound of a trumpet.
+He stopped short, his breath heaved thick, his cheek flushed. “De
+Montaigne,” said he, “your words have cleared away a thousand doubts
+and scruples--they have gone right to my heart. For the first time I
+understand what fame is--what the object, and what the reward of labour!
+Visions, hopes, aspirations I may have had before--for months a new
+spirit has been fluttering within me. I have felt the wings breaking
+from the shell, but all was confused, dim, uncertain. I doubted the
+wisdom of effort, with life so short, and the pleasures of youth so
+sweet. I now look no longer on life but as a part of the eternity to
+which I _feel_ we were born; and I recognise the solemn truth that our
+objects, to be worthy life, should be worthy of creatures in whom the
+living principle never is extinct. Farewell! come joy or sorrow, failure
+or success, I will struggle to deserve your friendship.”
+
+Maltravers sprang into his boat, and the shades of night soon snatched
+him from the lingering gaze of De Montaigne.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK IV.
+
+ “Strange is the land that holds thee,--and thy couch
+  is widow’d of the loved one.”
+    EURIP. _Med._ 442
+    Translation by R. G.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+        “I, alas!
+  Have lived but on this earth a few sad years;
+  And so my lot was ordered, that a father
+  First turned the moments of awakening life
+  To drops, each poisoning youth’s sweet hope.”
+    “_Cenci_.”
+
+FROM accompanying Maltravers along the noiseless progress of mental
+education, we are now called awhile to cast our glances back at the
+ruder and harsher ordeal which Alice Darvil was ordained to pass. Along
+her path poetry shed no flowers, nor were her lonely steps towards the
+distant shrine at which her pilgrimage found its rest lighted by the
+mystic lamp of science, or guided by the thousand stars which are never
+dim in the heavens for those favoured eyes from which genius and fancy
+have removed many of the films of clay. Not along the aerial and exalted
+ways that wind far above the homes and business of common men--the
+solitary Alps of Spiritual Philosophy--wandered the desolate steps of
+the child of poverty and sorrow. On the beaten and rugged highways of
+common life, with a weary heart, and with bleeding feet, she went her
+melancholy course. But the goal which is the great secret of life, the
+_summum arcanum_ of all philosophy, whether the Practical or the Ideal,
+was, perhaps, no less attainable for that humble girl than for the
+elastic step and aspiring heart of him who thirsted after the Great, and
+almost believed in the Impossible.
+
+We return to that dismal night in which Alice was torn from the roof of
+her lover. It was long before she recovered her consciousness of what
+had passed, and gained a full perception of the fearful revolution which
+had taken place in her destinies. It was then a grey and dreary morning
+twilight; and the rude but covered vehicle which bore her was rolling
+along the deep ruts of an unfrequented road, winding among the
+uninclosed and mountainous wastes that, in England, usually betoken the
+neighbourhood of the sea. With a shudder Alice looked round: Walters,
+her father’s accomplice, lay extended at her feet, and his heavy
+breathing showed that he was fast asleep. Darvil himself was urging on
+the jaded and sorry horse, and his broad back was turned towards Alice;
+the rain, from which, in his position, he was but ill protected by the
+awning, dripped dismally from his slouched hat; and now, as he turned
+round, and his sinister and gloomy gaze rested upon the face of Alice,
+his bad countenance, rendered more haggard by the cold raw light of the
+cheerless dawn, completed the hideous picture of unveiled and ruffianly
+wretchedness.
+
+“Ho, ho! Alley, so you are come to your senses,” said he, with a kind of
+joyless grin. “I am glad of it, for I can have no fainting fine ladies
+with me. You have had a long holiday, Alley; you must now learn once
+more to work for your poor father. Ah, you have been d----d sly; but
+never mind the past--I forgive it. You must not run away again without
+my leave; if you are fond of sweethearts, I won’t balk you--but your old
+father must go shares, Alley.”
+
+Alice could hear no more: she covered her face with the cloak that had
+been thrown about her, and though she did not faint, her senses seemed
+to be locked and paralysed. By and by Walters woke, and the two men,
+heedless of her presence, conversed upon their plans. By degrees she
+recovered sufficient self-possession to listen, in the instinctive hope
+that some plan of escape might be suggested to her. But from what she
+could gather of the incoherent and various projects they discussed,
+one after another--disputing upon each with frightful oaths and scarce
+intelligible slang, she could only learn that it was resolved at all
+events to leave the district in which they were--but whither seemed yet
+all undecided. The cart halted at last at a miserable-looking hut, which
+the signpost announced to be an inn that afforded good accommodation to
+travellers; to which announcement was annexed the following epigrammatic
+distich:
+
+ “Old Tom, he is the best of gin;
+  Drink him once, and you’ll drink him _agin_!”
+
+The hovel stood so remote from all other habitations, and the waste
+around was so bare of trees, and even shrubs, that Alice saw with
+despair that all hope of flight in such a place would be indeed a
+chimera. But to make assurance doubly sure, Darvil himself, lifting her
+from the cart, conducted her up a broken and unlighted staircase, into a
+sort of loft rather than a room, and, rudely pushing her in, turned the
+key upon her, and descended. The weather was cold, the livid damps hung
+upon the distained walls, and there was neither fire nor hearth; but
+thinly clad as she was--her cloak and shawl her principal covering--she
+did not feel the cold, for her heart was more chilly than the airs of
+heaven. At noon an old woman brought her some food, which, consisting of
+fish and poached game, was better than might have been expected in such
+a place, and what would have been deemed a feast under her father’s
+roof. With an inviting leer, the crone pointed to a pewter measure of
+raw spirits that accompanied the viands, and assured her, in a cracked
+and maudlin voice, that “‘Old Tom’ was a kinder friend than any of the
+young fellers!” This intrusion ended, Alice was again left alone till
+dusk, when Darvil entered with a bundle of clothes, such as are worn by
+the peasants of that primitive district of England.
+
+“There, Alley,” said he, “put on this warm toggery; finery won’t do now.
+We must leave no scent in the track; the hounds are after us, my little
+blowen. Here’s a nice stuff gown for you, and a red cloak that would
+frighten a turkey-cock. As to the other cloak and shawl, don’t be
+afraid; they sha’n’t go to the pop-shop, but we’ll take care of them
+against we get to some large town where there are young fellows with
+blunt in their pockets; for you seem to have already found out that your
+face is your fortune, Alley. Come, make haste, we must be starting.
+I shall come up for you in ten minutes. Pish! don’t be faint hearted;
+here, take ‘Old Tom’--take it, I say. What, you won’t? Well, here’s to
+your health, and a better taste to you!”
+
+And now, as the door once more closed upon Darvil, tears for the
+first time came to the relief of Alice. It was a woman’s weakness that
+procured for her that woman’s luxury. Those garments--they were Ernest’s
+gift--Ernest’s taste; they were like the last relic of that delicious
+life which now seemed to have fled for ever. All traces of that life--of
+him, the loving, the protecting, the adored; all trace of herself, as
+she had been re-created by love, was to be lost to her for ever. It
+was (as she had read somewhere, in the little elementary volumes that
+bounded her historic lore) like that last fatal ceremony in which those
+condemned for life to the mines of Siberia are clothed with the slave’s
+livery, their past name and record eternally blotted out, and thrust
+into the vast wastes, from which even the mercy of despotism, should
+it ever re-awaken, cannot recall them; for all evidence of them--all
+individuality--all mark to distinguish them from the universal herd, is
+expunged from the world’s calendar. She was still sobbing in vehement
+and unrestrained passion, when Darvil re-entered. “What, not dressed
+yet?” he exclaimed, in a voice of impatient rage; “hark ye, this won’t
+do. If in two minutes you are not ready, I’ll send up John Walters to
+help you; and he is a rough hand, I can tell you.”
+
+This threat recalled Alice, to herself. “I will do as you wish,” said
+she meekly.
+
+“Well, then, be quick,” said Darvil; “they are now putting the horse
+to. And mark me, girl, your father is running away from the gallows,
+and that thought does not make a man stand upon scruples. If you once
+attempt to give me the slip, or do or say anything that can bring the
+bulkies upon us--by the devil in hell!--if, indeed, there be hell or
+devil--my knife shall become better acquainted with that throat--so look
+to it!”
+
+And this was the father--this the condition--of her whose ear had for
+months drunk no other sound than the whispers of flattering love--the
+murmurs of Passion from the lips of Poetry.
+
+They continued their journey till midnight; they then arrived at an inn,
+little different from the last; but here Alice was no longer consigned
+to solitude. In a long room, reeking with smoke, sat from twenty to
+thirty ruffians before a table on which mugs and vessels of strong
+potations were formidably interspersed with sabres and pistols. They
+received Walters and Darvil with a shout of welcome, and would have
+crowded somewhat unceremoniously round Alice, if her father, whose
+well-known desperate and brutal ferocity made him a man to be respected
+in such an assembly, had not said, sternly, “Hands off, messmates, and
+make way by the fire for my little girl--she is meat for your masters.”
+
+So saying, he pushed Alice down into a huge chair in the chimney-nook,
+and, seating himself near her, at the end of the table, hastened to turn
+the conversation.
+
+“Well, Captain,” said he, addressing a small thin man at the head of the
+table, “I and Walters have fairly cut and run--the land has a bad air
+for us, and we now want the sea-breeze to cure the rope fever. So,
+knowing this was your night, we have crowded sail, and here we are.
+You must give the girl there a lift, though I know you don’t like such
+lumber, and we’ll run ashore as soon as we can.”
+
+“She seems a quiet little body,” replied the captain; “and we would do
+more than that to oblige an old friend like you. In half an hour Oliver*
+puts on his nightcap, and we must then be off.”
+
+* The moon.
+
+“The sooner the better.”
+
+The men now appeared to forget the presence of Alice, who sat faint with
+fatigue and exhaustion, for she had been too sick at heart to touch the
+food brought to her at their previous halting-place, gazing abstractedly
+upon the fire. Her father, before their departure, made her swallow
+some morsels of sea-biscuit, though each seemed to choke her; and then,
+wrapped in a thick boat-cloak, she was placed in a small well-built
+cutter; and as the sea-winds whistled round her, the present cold
+and the past fatigues lulled her miserable heart into the arms of the
+charitable Sleep.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+ “You are once more a free woman;
+  Here I discharge your bonds.”
+    _The Custom of the Country_.
+
+AND many were thy trials, poor child; many that, were this book to
+germinate into volumes more numerous than monk ever composed upon the
+lives of saint or martyr (though a hundred volumes contained the record
+of two years only in the life of St. Anthony), it would be impossible
+to describe! We may talk of the fidelity of books, but no man ever
+wrote even his own biography without being compelled to omit at least
+nine-tenths of the most important materials. What are three--what six
+volumes? We live six volumes in a day! Thought, emotion, joy, sorrow,
+hope, fear, how prolix would they be if they might each tell their
+hourly tale! But man’s life itself is a brief epitome of that which
+is infinite and everlasting; and his most accurate confessions are a
+miserable abridgment of a hurried and confused compendium!
+
+It was about three months, or more, from the night in which Alice wept
+herself to sleep amongst those wild companions, when she contrived to
+escape from her father’s vigilant eye. They were then on the coast of
+Ireland. Darvil had separated himself from Walters--from his seafaring
+companions: he had run through the greater part of the money his crimes
+had got together; he began seriously to attempt putting into execution
+his horrible design of depending for support upon the sale of his
+daughter. Now Alice might have been moulded into sinful purposes
+before she knew Maltravers; but from that hour her very error made her
+virtuous--she had comprehended, the moment she loved, what was meant by
+female honour; and by a sudden revelation, she had purchased modesty,
+delicacy of thought and soul, in the sacrifice of herself. Much of our
+morality (prudent and right upon system) with respect to the first false
+step of women, leads us, as we all know, into barbarous errors as to
+individual exceptions. Where, from pure and confiding love, that first
+false step has been taken, many a woman has been saved in after life
+from a thousand temptations. The poor unfortunates who crowd our streets
+and theatres have rarely, in the first instances, been corrupted by
+love; but by poverty, and the contagion of circumstance and example. It
+is a miserable cant phrase to call them the victims of seduction;
+they have been the victims of hunger, of vanity, of curiosity, of evil
+_female_ counsels; but the seduction of love hardly ever conducts to
+a _life_ of vice. If a woman has once really loved, the beloved object
+makes an impenetrable barrier between her and other men; their advances
+terrify and revolt--she would rather die than be unfaithful even to a
+memory. Though man love the sex, woman loves only the individual; and
+the more she loves him, the more cold she is to the species. For the
+passion of woman is in the sentiment--the fancy--the heart. It rarely
+has much to do with the coarse images with which boys and old men--the
+inexperienced and the worn-out--connect it.
+
+But Alice, though her blood ran cold at her terrible father’s language,
+saw in his very design the prospect of escape. In an hour of drunkenness
+he thrust her from the house, and stationed himself to watch her--it was
+in the city of Cork. She formed her resolution instantly--turned up a
+narrow street, and fled at full speed. Darvil endeavoured in vain to
+keep pace with her--his eyes dizzy, his steps reeling with intoxication.
+She heard his last curse dying from a distance on the air, and her fear
+winged her steps: she paused at last, and found herself on the outskirts
+of the town. She paused, overcome, and deadly faint; and then, for the
+first time, she felt that a strange and new life was stirring within
+her own. She had long since known that she bore in her womb the unborn
+offspring of Maltravers, and that knowledge had made her struggle and
+live on. But now, the embryo had quickened into being--it moved--it
+appealed to her, a--thing unseen, unknown; but still it was a living
+creature appealing to a mother! Oh, the thrill, half of ineffable
+tenderness, half of mysterious terror, at that moment!--What a new
+chapter in the life of a woman did it not announce:--Now, then, she must
+be watchful over herself--must guard against fatigue--must wrestle with
+despair. Solemn was the trust committed to her--the life of another--the
+child of the Adored. It was a summer night--she sat on a rude stone,
+the city on one side, with its lights and lamps;--the whitened fields
+beyond, with the moon and the stars above; and _above_ she raised her
+streaming eyes, and she thought that God, the Protector, smiled upon her
+from the face of the sweet skies. So, after a pause and a silent prayer,
+she rose and resumed her way. When she was wearied she crept into a shed
+in a farmyard, and slept, for the first time for weeks, the calm sleep
+of security and hope.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ “How like a prodigal doth she return,
+  With over-weathered ribs and ragged sails.”
+    _Merchant of Venice_.
+
+ “_Mer._ What are these?
+  _Uncle._ The tenants.”
+    BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.--_Wit without Money_.
+
+IT was just two years from the night in which Alice had been torn from
+the cottage: and at that time Maltravers was wandering amongst the ruins
+of ancient Egypt, when, upon the very lawn where Alice and her lover had
+so often loitered hand in hand, a gay party of children and young people
+were assembled. The cottage had been purchased by an opulent and
+retired manufacturer. He had raised the low thatched roof another story
+high--and blue slate had replaced the thatch--and the pretty verandahs
+overgrown with creepers had been taken down because Mrs. Hobbs thought
+they gave the rooms a dull look; and the little rustic doorway had
+been replaced by four Ionic pillars in stucco; and a new dining-room,
+twenty-two feet by eighteen, had been built out at one wing, and a
+new drawing-room had been built over the new dining-room. And the poor
+little cottage looked quite grand and villa-like. The fountain had been
+taken away, because it made the house damp; and there was such a broad
+carriage-drive from the gate to the house! The gate was no longer the
+modest green wooden gate, ever ajar with its easy latch; but a tall,
+cast-iron, well-locked gate, between two pillars to match the porch.
+And on one of the gates was a brass plate, on which was graven, “Hobbs’
+Lodge--Ring the bell.” The lesser Hobbses and the bigger Hobbses
+were all on the lawn--many of them fresh from school--for it was the
+half-holiday of a Saturday afternoon. There was mirth, and noise, and
+shouting and whooping, and the respectable old couple looked calmly
+on; Hobbs the father smoking his pipe (alas, it was not the dear
+meerschaum); Hobbs the mother talking to her eldest daughter (a fine
+young woman, three months married, for love, to a poor man), upon the
+proper number of days that a leg of mutton (weight ten pounds) should
+be made to last. “Always, my dear, have large joints, they are much the
+most saving. Let me see--what a noise the boys do make! No, my love, the
+ball’s not here.”
+
+“Mamma, it is under your petticoats.”
+
+“La, child, how naughty you are!”
+
+“Holla, you sir! it’s my turn to go in now. Biddy, wait,--girls have no
+innings--girls only fag out.”
+
+“Bob, you cheat.”
+
+“Pa, Ned says I cheat.”
+
+“Very likely, my dear, you are to be a lawyer.”
+
+“Where was I, my dear?” resumed Mrs. Hobbs, resettling herself, and
+readjusting the invaded petticoats. “Oh, about the leg of mutton!--yes,
+large joints are the best--the second day a nice hash, with dumplings;
+the third, broil the bone--your husband is sure to like broiled
+bones!--and then keep the scraps for Saturday’s pie;--you know, my dear,
+your father and I were worse off than you when we began. But now we have
+everything that is handsome about us--nothing like management. Saturday
+pies are very nice things, and then you start clear with your joint on
+Sunday. A good wife like you should never neglect the Saturday’s pie!”
+
+“Yes,” said the bride, mournfully; “but Mr. Tiddy does not like pies.”
+
+“Not like pies! that very odd--Mr. Hobbs likes pies--perhaps you don’t
+have the crust made thick eno’. How somever, you can make it up to him
+with a pudding. A wife should always study her husband’s tastes--what is
+a man’s home without love? Still a husband ought not to be aggravating,
+and dislike pie on a Saturday!”
+
+“Holla! I say, ma, do you see that ‘ere gipsy? I shall go and have my
+fortune told.”
+
+“And I--and I!”
+
+“Lor, if there ben’t a tramper!” cried Mr. Hobbs, rising indignantly;
+“what can the parish be about?”
+
+The object of these latter remarks, filial and paternal, was a young
+woman in a worn, threadbare cloak, with her face pressed to the openwork
+of the gate, and looking wistfully--oh, how wistfully!--within. The
+children eagerly ran up to her, but they involuntarily slackened their
+steps when they drew near, for she was evidently not what they had taken
+her for. No gipsy hues darkened the pale, thin, delicate cheek--no gipsy
+leer lurked in those large blue and streaming eyes--no gipsy effrontery
+bronzed that candid and childish brow. As she thus pressed her
+countenance with convulsive eagerness against the cold bars, the
+young people caught the contagion of inexpressible and half-fearful
+sadness--they approached almost respectfully--“Do you want anything
+here?” said the eldest and boldest of the boys.
+
+“I--I--surely this is Dale Cottage?”
+
+“It was Dale Cottage, it is Hobbs’ Lodge now; can’t you read?” said
+the heir of the Hobbs’s honours, losing, in contempt at the girl’s
+ignorance, his first impression of sympathy.
+
+“And--and--Mr. Butler, is he gone too?”
+
+Poor child! she spoke as if the cottage was gone, not improved; the
+Ionic portico had no charm for her!
+
+“Butler!--no such person lives here. Pa, do you know where Mr. Butler
+lives?”
+
+Pa was now moving up to the place of conference the slow artillery of
+his fair round belly and portly calves. “Butler, no--I know nothing
+of such a name--no Mr. Butler lives here. Go along with you--ain’t you
+ashamed to beg?”
+
+“No Mr. Butler!” said the girl, gasping for breath, and clinging to the
+gate for support. “Are you sure, sir?”
+
+“Sure, yes!--what do you want with him?”
+
+“Oh, papa, she looks faint!” said one of the _girls_ deprecatingly--“do
+let her have something to eat; I’m sure she’s hungry.”
+
+Mr. Hobbs looked angry; he had often been taken in, and no rich man
+likes beggars. Generally speaking, the rich man is in the right. But
+then Mr. Hobbs turned to the suspected tramper’s sorrowful face and then
+to his fair pretty child--and his good angel whispered something to Mr.
+Hobbs’s heart--and he said, after a pause, “Heaven forbid that we should
+not feel for a poor fellow-creature not so well to do as ourselves. Come
+in, my lass, and have a morsel to eat.”
+
+The girl did not seem to hear him, and he repeated the invitation,
+approaching to unlock the gate.
+
+“No, sir,” said she, then; “no, I thank you. I could not come in now.
+I could not eat here. But tell me, sir, I implore you, can you not even
+guess where I may find Mr. Butler?”
+
+“Butler!” said Mrs. Hobbs, whom curiosity had now drawn to the spot. “I
+remember that was the name of the gentleman who hired the place, and was
+robbed.”
+
+“Robbed!” said Mr. Hobbs, falling back and relocking the gate--“and the
+new tea-pot just come home,” he muttered inly. “Come, be off, child--be
+off; we know nothing of your Mr. Butlers.”
+
+The young woman looked wildly in his face, cast a hurried glance over
+the altered spot, and then, with a kind of shiver, as if the wind had
+smitten her delicate form too rudely, she drew her cloak more closely
+round her shoulders, and without saying another word, moved away. The
+party looked after her as, with trembling steps, she passed down the
+road, and all felt that pang of shame which is common to the human heart
+at the sight of a distress it has not sought to soothe. But this feeling
+vanished at once from the breast of Mrs. and Mr. Hobbs, when they saw
+the girl stop where a turn of the road brought the gate before her eyes;
+and for the first time, they perceived, what the worn cloak had hitherto
+concealed, that the poor young thing bore an infant in her arms. She
+halted, she gazed fondly back. Even at that instant the despair of her
+eyes was visible; and then, as she pressed her lips to the infant’s
+brow, they heard a convulsive sob--they saw her turn away, and she was
+gone!
+
+“Well, I declare!” said Mrs. Hobbs.
+
+“News for the parish,” said Mr. Hobbs; “and she so young too!--what a
+shame!”
+
+“The girls about here are very bad nowadays, Jenny,” said the mother to
+the bride.
+
+“I see now why she wanted Mr. Butler,” quoth Hobbs, with a knowing
+wink--“the slut has come to swear!”
+
+And it was for this that Alice had supported her strength--her
+courage-during the sharp pangs of childbirth; during a severe and
+crushing illness, which for months after her confinement had stretched
+her upon a peasant’s bed (the object of the rude but kindly charity
+of an Irish shealing)--for this, day after day, she had whispered to
+herself, “I shall get well, and I will beg my way to the cottage, and
+find him there still, and put my little one into his arms, and all will
+be bright again;”--for this, as soon as she could walk without aid, had
+she set out on foot from the distant land; for this, almost with a dog’s
+instinct (for she knew not what way to turn--what county the cottage was
+placed in; she only knew the name of the neighbouring town; and that,
+populous as it was, sounded strange to the ears of those she asked; and
+she had often and often been directed wrong),--for this, I say, almost
+with a dog’s faithful instinct, had she, in cold and heat, in hunger and
+in thirst, tracked to her old master’s home her desolate and lonely way!
+And thrice had she over-fatigued herself--and thrice again been indebted
+to humble pity for a bed whereon to lay a feverish and broken frame. And
+once, too, her baby--her darling, her life of life, had been ill--had
+been near unto death, and she could not stir till the infant (it was
+a girl) was well again, and could smile in her face and crow. And
+thus many, many months had elapsed, since the day she set out on her
+pilgrimage, to that on which she found its goal. But never, save when
+the child was ill, had she desponded or abated heart and hope. She
+should see him again, and he would kiss her child. And now--no--I cannot
+paint the might of that stunning blow! She knew not, she dreamed not, of
+the kind precautions Maltravers had taken; and he had not sufficiently
+calculated on her thorough ignorance of the world. How could she divine
+that the magistrate, not a mile distant from her, could have told her
+all she sought to know? Could she but have met the gardener--or the old
+woman-servant--all would have been well! These last, indeed, she had
+the forethought to ask for. But the woman was dead, and the gardener
+had taken a strange service in some distant county. And so died her last
+gleam of hope. If one person who remembered the search of Maltravers had
+but met and recognised her! But she had been seen by so few--and now the
+bright, fresh girl was so sadly altered! Her race was not yet run, and
+many a sharp wind upon the mournful seas had the bark to brave before
+its haven was found at last.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+        “Patience and sorrow strove
+  Which should express her goodliest.”--SHAKESPEARE.
+
+ “Je _la_ plains, je _la_ blame, et je suis son appui.” *-VOLTAIRE.
+
+* I pity her, I blame her, and am her support.
+
+AND now Alice felt that she was on the wide world alone, with her
+child--no longer to be protected, but to protect; and after the first
+few days of agony, a new spirit, not indeed of hope, but of endurance,
+passed within her. Her solitary wanderings, with God her only guide, had
+tended greatly to elevate and confirm her character. She felt a strong
+reliance on His mysterious mercy--she felt, too, the responsibility of
+a mother. Thrown for so many months upon her own resources, even for the
+bread of life, her intellect was unconsciously sharpened, and a habit
+of patient fortitude had strengthened a nature originally clinging and
+femininely soft. She resolved to pass into some other county, for she
+could neither bear the thoughts that haunted the neighbourhood around
+her, nor think, without a loathing horror, of the possibility of her
+father’s return. Accordingly, one day, she renewed her wanderings--and
+after a week’s travel, arrived at a small village. Charity is so common
+in England, it so spontaneously springs up everywhere, like the good
+seed by the roadside, that she had rarely wanted the bare necessaries of
+existence. And her humble manner, and sweet, well-tuned voice, so free
+from the professional whine of mendicancy, had usually its charm for the
+sternest. So she generally obtained enough to buy bread and a night’s
+lodging, and, if sometimes she failed, she could bear hunger, and was
+not afraid of creeping into some shed, or, when by the sea-shore, even
+into some sheltering cavern. Her child throve too--for God tempers the
+wind to the shorn lamb! But now, so far as physical privation went, the
+worst was over.
+
+It so happened that as Alice was drawing herself wearily along to the
+entrance of the village which was to bound her day’s journey, she was
+met by a lady, past middle age, in whose countenance compassion was so
+visible, that Alice would not beg, for she had a strange delicacy or
+pride, or whatever it may be called, and rather begged of the stern than
+of those who looked kindly at her--she did not like to lower herself in
+the eyes of the last.
+
+The lady stopped.
+
+“My poor girl, where are you going?”
+
+“Where God pleases, madam,” said Alice.
+
+“Humph! and is that your own child?--you are almost a child yourself.”
+
+“It is mine, madam,” said Alice, gazing fondly at the infant; “it is my
+all!”
+
+The lady’s voice faltered. “Are you married?” she asked.
+
+“Married!--Oh, no, madam!” replied Alice, innocently, yet without
+blushing, for she never knew that she had done wrong in loving
+Maltravers.
+
+The lady drew gently back, but not in horror--no, in still deeper
+compassion; for that lady had virtue, and she knew that the faults of
+her sex are sufficiently punished to permit Virtue to pity them without
+a sin.
+
+“I am sorry for it,” she said, however, with greater gravity. “Are you
+travelling to seek the father?”
+
+“Ah, madam! I shall never see him again!” And Alice wept.
+
+“What!--he has abandoned you--so young, so beautiful!” added the lady to
+herself.
+
+“Abandoned me!--no, madam; but it is a long tale. Good evening--I thank
+you kindly for your pity.”
+
+The lady’s eyes ran over.
+
+“Stay,” said she; “tell me frankly where you are going, and what is your
+object.”
+
+“Alas! madam, I am going anywhere, for I have no home; but I wish to
+live, and work for my living, in order that my child may not want for
+anything. I wish I could maintain myself--he used to say I could.”
+
+“He!--your language and manner are not those of a peasant. What can you
+do? What do you know?”
+
+“Music, and work, and--and--”
+
+“Music!--this is strange! What were your parents?”
+
+Alice shuddered, and hid her face with her hands.
+
+The lady’s interest was now fairly warmed in her behalf.
+
+“She has sinned,” said she to herself; “but at that age, how can one be
+harsh? She must not be thrown upon the world to make sin a habit.
+Follow me,” she said, after a little pause; “and think you have found a
+friend.”
+
+The lady then turned from the high-road down a green lane which led to a
+park lodge. This lodge she entered; and after a short conversation with
+the inmate, beckoned to Alice to join her.
+
+“Janet,” said Alice’s new protector to a comely and pleasant-eyed
+woman, “this is the young person--you will show her and the infant every
+attention. I shall send down proper clothing for her to-morrow, and I
+shall then have thought what will be best for her future welfare.”
+
+With that the lady smiled benignly upon Alice, whose heart was too full
+to speak; and the door of the cottage closed upon her, and Alice thought
+the day had grown darker.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+ “Believe me, she has won me much to pity her.
+  Alas! her gentle nature was not made
+  To buffet with adversity.”--ROWE.
+
+ “Sober he was, and grave from early youth,
+  Mindful of forms, but more intent on truth;
+  In a light drab he uniformly dress’d,
+  And look serene th’ unruffled mind express’d.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ “Yet might observers in his sparkling eye
+  Some observation, some acuteness spy
+  The friendly thought it keen, the treacherous deem’d it sly;
+  Yet not a crime could foe or friend detect,
+  His actions all were like his speech correct--
+  Chaste, sober, solemn, and devout they named
+  Him who was this, and not of this ashamed.”--CRABBE.
+
+ “I’ll on and sound this secret.”--BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
+
+MRS. LESLIE, the lady introduced to the reader in the last chapter, was
+a woman of the firmest intellect combined (no unusual combination) with
+the softest heart. She learned Alice’s history with admiration and
+pity. The natural innocence and honesty of the young mother spoke so
+eloquently in her words and looks, that Mrs. Leslie, on hearing her
+tale, found much less to forgive than she had anticipated. Still she
+deemed it necessary to enlighten Alice as to the criminality of the
+connection she had formed. But here Alice was singularly dull--she
+listened in meek patience to Mrs. Leslie’s lecture; but it evidently
+made but slight impression on her. She had not yet seen enough of the
+social state to correct the first impressions of the natural: and all
+she could say in answer to Mrs. Leslie was: “It may be all very true,
+madam, but I have been so much better since I knew him!”
+
+But though Alice took humbly any censure upon herself, she would not
+hear a syllable insinuated against Maltravers. When, in a very natural
+indignation, Mrs. Leslie denounced him as a destroyer of innocence--for
+Mrs. Leslie could not learn all that extenuated his offence--Alice
+started up with flashing eyes and heaving heart, and would have hurried
+from the only shelter she had in the wide world--she would sooner have
+died--she would sooner even have seen her child die, than done that
+idol of her soul, who, in her eyes, stood alone on some pinnacle between
+earth and heaven, the wrong of hearing him reviled. With difficulty Mrs.
+Leslie could restrain, with still more difficulty could she pacify and
+soothe her; and for the girl’s petulance, which others might have deemed
+insolent or ungrateful, the woman-heart of Mrs. Leslie loved her all
+the better. The more she saw of Alice, and the more she comprehended her
+story and her character, the more was she lost in wonder at the romance
+of which this beautiful child had been the heroine, and the more
+perplexed she was as to Alice’s future prospects.
+
+At length, however, when she became acquainted with Alice’s musical
+acquirements, which were, indeed, of no common order, a light broke in
+upon her. Here was the source of her future independence. Maltravers, it
+will be remembered, was a musician of consummate skill as well as taste,
+and Alice’s natural talent for the art had advanced her, in the space
+of months, to a degree of perfection which it cost others--which it had
+cost even the quick Maltravers--years to obtain. But we learn so rapidly
+when our teachers are those we love: and it may be observed that the
+less our knowledge, the less perhaps our genius in other things, the
+more facile are our attainments in music, which is a very jealous
+mistress of the mind. Mrs. Leslie resolved to have her perfected in this
+art, and so enable her to become a teacher to others. In the town of
+C------, about thirty miles from Mrs. Leslie’s house, though in the same
+county, there was no inconsiderable circle of wealthy and intelligent
+persons; for it was a cathedral town, and the resident clergy drew
+around them a kind of provincial aristocracy. Here, as in most rural
+towns in England, music was much cultivated, both among the higher
+and middle classes. There were amateur concerts, and glee-clubs, and
+subscriptions for sacred music; and once every five years there was the
+great C------ Festival. In this town Mrs. Leslie established Alice: she
+placed her under the roof of a _ci-devant_ music-master, who, having
+retired from his profession, was no longer jealous of rivals, but who,
+by handsome terms, was induced to complete the education of Alice. It
+was an eligible and comfortable abode, and the music-master and his wife
+were a good-natured easy old couple.
+
+Three months of resolute and unceasing perseverance, combined with the
+singular ductility and native gifts of Alice, sufficed to render her
+the most promising pupil the good musician had ever accomplished; and in
+three months more, introduced by Mrs. Leslie to many of the families in
+the place, Alice was established in a home of her own; and, what with
+regular lessons, and occasional assistance at musical parties, she
+was fairly earning what her tutor reasonably pronounced to be “a very
+genteel independence.”
+
+Now, in these arrangements (for we must here go back a little), there
+had been one gigantic difficulty of conscience in one party, of feeling
+in another, to surmount. Mrs. Leslie saw at once that unless Alice’s
+misfortune was concealed, all the virtues and all the talents in the
+world could not enable her to retrace the one false step. Mrs. Leslie
+was a woman of habitual truth and strict rectitude, and she was sorely
+perplexed between the propriety of candour and its cruelty. She felt
+unequal to take the responsibility of action on herself; and, after much
+meditation, she resolved to confide her scruples to one who, of all whom
+she knew, possessed the highest character for moral worth and religious
+sanctity. This gentleman, lately a widower, lived at the outskirts
+of the town selected for Alice’s future residence, and at that time
+happened to be on a visit in Mrs. Leslie’s neighbourhood. He was an
+opulent man, a banker; he had once represented the town in parliament,
+and retiring, from disinclination to the late hours and onerous fatigues
+even of an unreformed House of Commons, he still possessed an influence
+to return one, if not both, of the members for the city of C------. And
+that influence was always exerted so as best to secure his own interest
+with the powers that be, and advance certain objects of ambition (for
+he was both an ostentatious and ambitious man in his own way), which
+he felt he might more easily obtain by proxy than by his own votes and
+voice in parliament--an atmosphere in which his light did not shine.
+And it was with a wonderful address that the banker contrived at once to
+support the government, and yet, by the frequent expression of
+liberal opinions, to conciliate the Whigs and the Dissenters of his
+neighbourhood. Parties, political and sectarian, were not then so
+irreconcilable as they are now. In the whole county there was no one
+so respected as this eminent person, and yet he possessed no shining
+talents, though a laborious and energetic man of business. It was solely
+and wholly the force of moral character which gave him his position in
+society. He felt this; he was sensitively proud of it; he was painfully
+anxious not to lose an atom of a distinction that required to be
+vigilantly secured. He was a very _remarkable_, yet not (perhaps could
+we penetrate all hearts), a very _uncommon_ character--this banker!
+He had risen from, comparatively speaking, a low origin and humble
+fortunes, and entirely by the scrupulous and sedate propriety of his
+outward conduct. With such a propriety he, therefore, inseparably
+connected every notion of worldly prosperity and honour. Thus, though
+far from a bad man, he was forced into being something of a hypocrite.
+Every year he had grown more starch and more saintly. He was
+conscience-keeper to the whole town; and it is astonishing how many
+persons hardly dared to make a will or subscribe to a charity without
+his advice. As he was a shrewd man of this world, as well as an
+accredited guide to the next, his advice was precisely of a nature
+to reconcile the Conscience and the Interest; and he was a kind of
+negotiator in the reciprocal diplomacy of earth and heaven. But our
+banker was really a charitable man, and a benevolent man, and a sincere
+believer. How, then, was he a hypocrite? Simply because he professed to
+be far _more_ charitable, _more_ benevolent, and _more_ pious than he
+really was. His reputation had now arrived to that degree of immaculate
+polish that the smallest breath, which would not have tarnished the
+character of another man, would have fixed an indelible stain upon his.
+As he affected to be more strict than the churchman, and was a great
+oracle with all who regarded churchmen as lukewarm, so his conduct was
+narrowly watched by all the clergy of the orthodox cathedral, good men,
+doubtless, but not affecting to be saints, who were jealous at being so
+luminously outshone by a layman and an authority of the sectarians. On
+the other hand, the intense homage and almost worship he received from
+his followers kept his goodness upon a stretch, if not beyond all human
+power, certainly beyond his own. For “admiration” (as it is well said
+somewhere) “is a kind of superstition which expects miracles.” From
+nature this gentleman had received an inordinate share of animal
+propensities: he had strong passions, he was by temperament a
+sensualist. He loved good eating and good wine--he loved women. The
+two former blessings of the carnal life are not incompatible with
+canonisation; but St. Anthony has shown that women, however angelic, are
+not precisely that order of angels that saints may safely commune with.
+If, therefore, he ever yielded to temptations of a sexual nature, it was
+with profound secrecy and caution; nor did his right hand know what his
+left hand did.
+
+This gentleman had married a woman much older than himself, but her
+fortune had been one of the necessary stepping-stones in his career. His
+exemplary conduct towards this lady, ugly as well as old, had done much
+towards increasing the odour of his sanctity. She died of an ague, and
+the widower did not shock probabilities by affecting too severe a grief.
+
+“The Lord’s will be done!” said he; “she was a good woman, but we should
+not set our affections too much upon His perishable creatures!”
+
+This was all he was ever heard to say on the matter. He took an elderly
+gentlewoman, distantly related to him, to manage his house, and sit at
+the head of the table; and it was thought not impossible, though the
+widower was past fifty, that he might marry again.
+
+Such was the gentleman called in by Mrs. Leslie, who, of the same
+religious opinions, had long known and revered him, to decide the
+affairs of Alice and of Conscience.
+
+As this man exercised no slight or fugitive influence over Alice
+Darvil’s destinies, his counsels on the point in discussion ought to be
+fairly related.
+
+“And now,” said Mrs. Leslie, concluding the history, “you will perceive,
+my dear sir, that this poor young creature has been less culpable than
+she appears. From the extraordinary proficiency she has made in music,
+in a time that, by her own account, seems incredibly short; I
+should suspect her unprincipled betrayer must have been an artist--a
+professional man. It is just possible that they may meet again, and (as
+the ranks between them cannot be so very disproportionate) that he may
+marry her. I am sure that he could not do a better or a wiser thing, for
+she loves him too fondly, despite her wrongs. Under these circumstances,
+would it be a--a--a culpable disguise of truth to represent her as a
+married woman--separated from her husband--and give her the name of her
+seducer? Without such a precaution you will see, sir, that all hope
+of settling her reputably in life--all chance of procuring her any
+creditable independence, is out of the question. Such is my dilemma.
+What is your advice?--palatable or not, I shall abide by it.”
+
+The banker’s grave and saturnine countenance exhibited a slight degree
+of embarrassment at the case submitted to him. He began brushing away,
+with the cuff of his black coat, some atoms of dust that had settled
+on his drab small-clothes; and, after a slight pause, he replied, “Why,
+really, dear madam, the question is one of much delicacy--I doubt if
+men could be good judges upon it; your sex’s tact and instinct on these
+matters are better--much better than our sagacity. There is much in the
+dictates of your own heart; for to those who are in the grace of the
+Lord He vouchsafes to communicate His pleasure by spiritual hints and
+inward suggestions!”
+
+“If so, my dear sir, the matter is decided; for my heart whispers me
+that this slight deviation from truth would be a less culpable offence
+than turning so young and, I had almost said, so innocent a creature
+adrift upon the world. I may take your opinion as my sanction.”
+
+“Why, really, I can scarcely say so much as that,” said the banker, with
+a slight smile. “A deviation from truth cannot be incurred without some
+forfeiture of strict duty.”
+
+“Not in any case? Alas, I was afraid so!” said Mrs. Leslie,
+despondingly.
+
+“In any case! Oh, there _may_ be cases! But had I not better see the
+young woman, and ascertain that your benevolent heart has not deceived
+you?”
+
+“I wish you would,” said Mrs. Leslie; “she is now in the house. I will
+ring for her.”
+
+“Should we not be alone?”
+
+“Certainly; I will leave you together.”
+
+Alice was sent for, and appeared.
+
+“This pious gentleman,” said Mrs. Leslie, “will confer with you for a
+few moments, my child. Do not be afraid; he is the best of men.” With
+these words of encouragement the good lady vanished, and Alice saw
+before her a tall dark man, with a head bald in front, yet larger behind
+than before, with spectacles upon a pair of shrewd, penetrating eyes,
+and an outline of countenance that showed he must have been handsome in
+earlier manhood.
+
+“My young friend,” said the banker, seating himself, after a deliberate
+survey of the fair countenance that blushed beneath his gaze, “Mrs.
+Leslie and myself have been conferring upon your temporal welfare. You
+have been unfortunate, my child.”
+
+“Ah--yes.”
+
+“Well, well, you are very young; we must not be too severe upon youth.
+You will never do so again?”
+
+“Do what, please you, sir?”
+
+“What! Humph! I mean that you will be more rigid, more circumspect. Men
+are deceitful; you must be on your guard against them. You are handsome,
+child, very handsome--more’s the pity.” And the banker took Alice’s hand
+and pressed it with great unction. Alice looked at him gravely and drew
+the hand away instinctively.
+
+The banker lowered his spectacles, and gazed at her without their aid;
+his eyes were still fine and expressive. “What is your name?” he asked.
+
+“Alice--Alice Darvil, sir.”
+
+“Well, Alice, we have been considering what is best for you. You wish to
+earn your own livelihood, and perhaps marry some honest man hereafter.”
+
+“Marry, sir--never!” said Alice, with great earnestness, her eyes
+filling with tears.
+
+“And why?”
+
+“Because I shall never see _him_ on earth, and they do not marry in
+heaven, sir.”
+
+The banker was moved, for he was not worse than his neighbours, though
+trying to make them believe he was so much better.
+
+“Well, time enough to talk of that; but in the meanwhile you would
+support yourself?”
+
+“Yes, sir. His child ought to be a burden to none--nor I either. I once
+wished to die, but then who would love my little one? Now I wish to
+live.”
+
+“But what mode of livelihood would you prefer? Would you go into a
+family, in some capacity?--not that of a servant--you are too delicate
+for that.”
+
+“Oh, no--no!”
+
+“But, again, why?” asked the banker, soothingly, yet surprised.
+
+“Because,” said Alice, almost solemnly, “there are some hours when I
+feel I must be alone. I sometimes think I am not all right _here_,”
+ and she touched her forehead. “They called me an idiot before I knew
+_him_!--No, I could not live with others, for I can only cry when nobody
+but my child is with me.”
+
+This was said with such unconscious, and therefore with such pathetic,
+simplicity, that the banker was sensibly affected. He rose, stirred the
+fire, resettled himself, and, after a pause, said emphatically: “Alice,
+I will be your friend. Let me believe you will deserve it.”
+
+Alice bent her graceful head, and seeing that he had sunk into an
+abstracted silence, she thought it time for her to withdraw.
+
+“She is, indeed, beautiful,” said the banker, almost aloud, when he was
+alone; “and the old lady is right--she is as innocent as if she had not
+fallen. I wonder--” Here he stopped short, and walked to the glass over
+the mantelpiece, where he was still gazing on his own features, when
+Mrs. Leslie returned.
+
+“Well, sir,” said she, a little surprised at this seeming vanity in so
+pious a man.
+
+The banker started. “Madam, I honour your penetration as much as your
+charity; I think that there is so much to be feared in letting all
+the world know this young female’s past error, that, though I dare not
+advise, I cannot blame, your concealment of it.”
+
+“But, sir, your words have sunk deep into my thoughts; you said every
+deviation from truth was a forfeiture of duty.”
+
+“Certainly; but there are some exceptions. The world is a bad world, we
+are born in sin; and the children of wrath. We do not tell infants all
+the truth, when they ask us questions, the proper answers of which would
+mislead, not enlighten them. In some things the whole world are infants.
+The very science of government is the science of concealing truth--so
+is the system of trade. We could not blame the tradesman for not telling
+the public that if all his debts were called in he would be a bankrupt.”
+
+“And he may marry her after all--this Mr. Butler.”
+
+“Heaven forbid--the villain!--Well, madam, I will see to this poor young
+thing--she shall not want a guide.”
+
+“Heaven reward you! How wicked some people are to call you severe!”
+
+“I can bear _that_ blame with a meek temper, madam. Good day.”
+
+“Good day. You will remember how strictly confidential has been our
+conversation.”
+
+“Not a breath shall transpire. I will send you some tracts to-morrow--so
+comforting. Heaven bless you!”
+
+This difficulty smoothed, Mrs. Leslie, to her astonishment, found that
+she had another to contend with in Alice herself. For, first, Alice
+conceived that to change her name and keep her secret was to confess
+that she ought to be ashamed, rather than proud, of her love to Ernest,
+and she thought that so ungrateful to him!--and, secondly, to take his
+name, to pass for his wife--what presumption--he would certainly have a
+right to be offended! At these scruples Mrs. Leslie well-nigh lost all
+patience; and the banker, to his own surprise, was again called in. We
+have said that he was an experienced and skilful adviser, which implies
+the faculty of persuasion. He soon saw the handle by which Alice’s
+obstinacy might always be moved--her little girl’s welfare. He put this
+so forcibly before her eyes; he represented the child’s future fate as
+resting so much, not only on her own good conduct, but on her outward
+respectability, that he prevailed upon her at last; and, perhaps, one
+argument that he incidentally used, had as much effect on her as
+the rest. “This Mr. Butler, if yet in England, may pass through our
+town--may visit amongst us--may hear you spoken of by a name similar to
+his own, and curiosity would thus induce him to seek you. Take his name,
+and you will always bear an honourable index to your mutual discovery
+and recognition. Besides, when you are respectable, honoured, and
+earning an independence, he may not be too proud to marry you. But take
+your own name, avow your own history, and not only will your child be
+an outcast, yourself a beggar, or, at best, a menial dependant, but
+you lose every hope of recovering the object of your too-devoted
+attachment.”
+
+Thus Alice was convinced. From that time she became close and
+reserved in her communications. Mrs. Leslie had wisely selected a town
+sufficiently remote from her own abode to preclude any revelations of
+her domestics; and, as Mrs. Butler, Alice attracted universal sympathy
+and respect from the exercise of her talents, the modest sweetness of
+her manners, the unblemished propriety of her conduct. Somehow or other,
+no sooner did she learn the philosophy of concealment than she made a
+great leap in knowledge of the world. And, though flattered and courted
+by the young loungers of C------, she steered her course with so much
+address that she was never persecuted. For there are few men in the
+world who make advances where there is no encouragement.
+
+The banker observed her conduct with silent vigilance. He met her often,
+he visited her often. He was intimate at houses where she attended to
+teach or perform. He lent her good books--he advised her--he preached
+to her. Alice began to look up to him--to like him--to consider him as a
+village girl in Catholic countries may consider a benevolent and kindly
+priest. And he--what was his object?--at that time it is impossible to
+guess:--he became thoughtful and abstracted.
+
+One day an old maid and an old clergyman met in the High Street of
+C------.
+
+“And how do you do, ma’am?” said the clergyman; “how is the rheumatism?”
+
+“Better, thank you, sir. Any news?”
+
+The clergyman smiled, and something hovered on his lips, which he
+suppressed.
+
+“Were you,” the old maid resumed, “at Mrs. Macnab’s last night? Charming
+music?”
+
+“Charming! How pretty that Mrs. Butler is! and how humble! Knows her
+station--so unlike professional people.”
+
+“Yes, indeed!--What attention a certain banker paid her!”
+
+“He! he! he! yes; he is very fatherly--very!”
+
+“Perhaps he will marry again; he is always talking of the holy state
+of matrimony--a holy state it may be--but Heaven knows, his wife, poor
+woman, did not make it a pleasant one.”
+
+“There may be more causes for that than we guess of,” said the
+clergyman, mysteriously. “I would not be uncharitable, but--”
+
+“But what?”
+
+“Oh, when he was young, our great man was not so correct, I fancy, as he
+is now.”
+
+“So I have heard it whispered; but nothing against him was ever known.”
+
+“Hem--it is very odd!”
+
+“What’s very odd?”
+
+“Why, but it’s a secret--I dare say it’s all very right.”
+
+“Oh, I sha’n’t say a word. Are you going to the cathedral?--don’t let me
+keep you standing. Now, pray proceed!”
+
+“Well, then, yesterday I was doing duty in a village more than twenty
+miles hence, and I loitered in the village to take an early dinner; and,
+afterwards, while my horse was feeding, I strolled down the green.”
+
+“Well--well?”
+
+“And I saw a gentleman muffled carefully up, with his hat slouched over
+his face, at the door of a cottage, with a little child in his arms,
+and he kissed it more fondly than, be we ever so good, we generally kiss
+other people’s children; and then he gave it to a peasant woman standing
+near him, and mounted his horse, which was tied to the gate, and trotted
+past me; and who do you think this was?”
+
+“Patience me--I can’t guess!”
+
+“Why, our saintly banker. I bowed to him, and I assure you he turned as
+red, ma’am, as your waistband.”
+
+“My!”
+
+“I just turned into the cottage when he was out of sight, for I was
+thirsty, and asked for a glass of water, and I saw the child. I declare
+I would not be uncharitable, but I thought it monstrous like--you know
+whom!”
+
+“Gracious! you don’t say--”
+
+“I asked the woman ‘if it was hers?’ and she said ‘No,’ but was very
+short.”
+
+“Dear me, I must find this out! What is the name of the village?”
+
+“Covedale.”
+
+“Oh, I know--I know.”
+
+“Not a word of this; I dare say there is nothing in it. But I am not
+much in favour of your new lights.”
+
+“Nor I neither. What better than the good old Church of England?”
+
+“Madam, your sentiments do you honour; you’ll be sure not to say
+anything of our little mystery.”
+
+“Not a syllable.”
+
+Two days after this three old maids made an excursion to the village of
+Covedale, and lo! the cottage in question was shut up--the woman and the
+child were gone. The people in the village knew nothing about them--had
+seen nothing particular in the woman or child--had always supposed
+them mother and daughter; and the gentleman identified by the clerical
+inquisitor with the banker had never but once been observed in the
+place.
+
+“The vile old parson,” said the eldest of the old maids, “to take away
+so good a man’s character!--and the fly will cost one pound two, with
+the baiting!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+ “In this disposition was I, when looking out of my window one
+  day to take the air, I perceived a kind of peasant who looked
+  at me very attentively.”--GIL BLAS.
+
+A SUMMER’S evening in a retired country town has something melancholy
+in it. You have the streets of a metropolis without their animated
+bustle--you have the stillness of the country without its birds and
+flowers. The reader will please to bring before him a quiet street in
+the quiet country town of C------, in a quiet evening in quiet June; the
+picture is not mirthful--two young dogs are playing in the street, one
+old dog is watching by a newly-painted door. A few ladies of middle age
+move noiselessly along the pavement, returning home to tea: they wear
+white muslin dresses, green spencers a little faded, straw poke bonnets
+with green or coffee-coloured gauze veils. By twos and threes they have
+disappeared within the thresholds of small neat houses, with little
+railings, inclosing little green plots. Threshold, house, railing, and
+plot, each as like to the other as are those small commodities called
+“nest-tables,” which, “even as a broken mirror multiplies,” summon to
+the bewildered eye countless iterations of one four-legged individual.
+Paradise Place was a set of nest houses.
+
+A cow had passed through the streets with a milkwoman behind; two young
+and gay shopmen “looking after the gals,” had reconnoitred the street,
+and vanished in despair. The twilight advanced--but gently; and though a
+star or two were up, the air was still clear. At the open window of one
+of the tenements in this street sat Alice Darvil. She had been working
+(that pretty excuse to women for thinking), and as the thoughts grew
+upon her, and the evening waned, the work had fallen upon her knee,
+and her hands dropped mechanically on her lap. Her profile was turned
+towards the street; but without moving her head or changing her
+attitude, her eyes glanced from time to time to her little girl, who
+nestled on the ground beside her, tired with play; and wondering,
+perhaps, why she was not already in bed, seemed as tranquil as the young
+mother herself. And sometimes Alice’s eyes filled with tears--and
+then she sighed, as if to sigh the tears away. But poor Alice, if she
+grieved, hers was now a silent and a patient grief.
+
+The street was deserted of all other passengers, when a man passed along
+the pavement on the side opposite to Alice’s house. His garb was rude
+and homely, between that of a labourer and a farmer; but still there
+was an affectation of tawdry show about the bright scarlet handkerchief,
+tied, in a sailor or smuggler fashion, round the sinewy throat; the
+hat was set jauntily on one side, and, dangling many an inch from
+the gaily-striped waistcoat, glittered a watch-chain and seals, which
+appeared suspiciously out of character with the rest of his attire.
+The passenger was covered with dust; and as the street was in a suburb
+communicating with the high-road, and formed one of the entrances
+into the town, he had probably, after long day’s journey, reached
+his evening’s destination. The looks of this stranger wore anxious,
+restless, and perturbed. In his gait and swagger there was the
+recklessness of the professional blackguard; but in his vigilant,
+prying, suspicious eyes there was a hang-dog expression of apprehension
+and fear. He seemed a man upon whom Crime had set its significant
+mark--and who saw a purse with one eye and a gibbet with the other.
+Alice did not note the stranger, until she herself had attracted and
+centred all his attention. He halted abruptly as he caught a view of her
+face--shaded his eyes with his hands as if to gaze more intently--and
+at length burst into an exclamation of surprise and pleasure. At
+that instant Alice turned, and her gaze met that of the stranger. The
+fascination of the basilisk can scarcely more stun and paralyse its
+victim than the look of this stranger charmed, with the appalling
+glamoury of horror, the eye and soul of Alice Darvil. Her face became
+suddenly locked and rigid, her lips as white as marble, her eyes almost
+started from their sockets--she pressed her hands convulsively together,
+and shuddered--but still she did not move. The man nodded, and grinned,
+and then, deliberately crossing the street, gained the door, and knocked
+loudly. Still Alice did not stir--her senses seemed to have forsaken
+her. Presently the stranger’s loud, rough voice was heard below, in
+answer to the accents of the solitary woman-servant whom Alice kept in
+her employ; and his strong, heavy tread made the slight staircase creak
+and tremble. Then Alice rose as by an instinct, caught her child in her
+arms, and stood erect and motionless facing the door. It opened--and the
+FATHER and DAUGHTER were once more face to face within the same walls.
+
+“Well, Alley, how are you, my blowen?--glad to see your old dad again,
+I’ll be sworn. No ceremony, sit down. Ha, ha! snug here--very snug--we
+shall live together charmingly. Trade on your own account--eh?
+sly!--well, can’t desert your poor old father. Let’s have something to
+eat and drink.”
+
+So saying, Darvil threw himself at length upon the neat, prim little
+chintz sofa, with the air of a man resolved to make himself perfectly at
+home.
+
+Alice gazed, and trembled violently, but still said nothing--the power
+of voice had indeed left her.
+
+“Come, why don’t you stir your stumps? I suppose I must wait on
+myself--fine manners!--But, ho, ho--a bell, by gosh--mighty grand--never
+mind--I am used to call for my own wants.”
+
+A hearty tug at the frail bell-rope sent a shrill alarum half-way
+through the long lath-and-plaster row of Paradise Place, and left the
+instrument of the sound in the hand of its creator.
+
+Up came the maid-servant, a formal old woman, most respectable.
+
+“Hark ye, old girl!” said Darvil; “bring up the best you have to
+eat--not particular--let there be plenty. And I say--a bottle of brandy.
+Come, don’t stand there staring like a stuck pig. Budge! Hell and
+furies! don’t you hear me?”
+
+The servant retreated, as if a pistol had been put to her head, and
+Darvil, laughing loud, threw himself again upon the sofa. Alice looked
+at him, and, still without saying a word, glided from the room--her
+child in her arms. She hurried down-stairs, and in the hall met her
+servant. The latter, who was much attached to her mistress, was alarmed
+to see her about to leave the house.
+
+“Why, marm, where be you going? Dear heart, you have no bonnet on! What
+is the matter? Who is this?”
+
+“Oh!” cried Alice, in agony; “what shall I do?--where shall I fly?” The
+door above opened. Alice heard, started, and the next moment was in
+the street. She ran on breathlessly, and like one insane. Her mind was,
+indeed, for the time, gone; and had a river flowed before her way, she
+would have plunged into an escape from a world that seemed too narrow to
+hold a father and his child.
+
+But just as she turned the corner of a street that led into the more
+public thoroughfares, she felt her arm grasped, and a voice called out
+her name in surprised and startled accents.
+
+“Heavens, Mrs. Butler! Alice! What do I see? What is the matter?”
+
+“Oh, sir, save me!--you are a good man--a great man--save me--he is
+returned!”
+
+“He! who? Mr. Butler?” said the banker (for that gentleman it was) in a
+changed and trembling voice.
+
+“No, no--ah, not he!--I did not say _he_--I said my father--my,
+my--ah--look behind--look behind--is he coming?”
+
+“Calm yourself, my dear young friend--no one is near. I will go and
+reason with your father. No one shall harm you--I will protect you. Go
+back--go back, I will follow--we must not be seen together.” And the
+tall banker seemed trying to shrink into a nutshell.
+
+“No, no,” said Alice, growing yet paler, “I cannot go back.”
+
+“Well, then, just follow me to the door--your servant shall get you your
+bonnet, and accompany you to my house, where you can wait till I
+return. Meanwhile I will see your father, and rid you, I trust, of his
+presence.”
+
+The banker, who spoke in a very hurried and even impatient voice, waited
+for no reply, but took his way to Alice’s house. Alice herself did not
+follow, but remained in the very place where she was left, till joined
+by her servant, who then conducted her to the rich man’s residence...
+But Alice’s mind had not recovered its shock, and her thoughts wandered
+alarmingly.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+ “_Miramont._--Do they chafe roundly?
+  _Andrew._--As they were rubbed with soap, sir,
+  And now they swear aloud, now calm again
+  Like a ring of bells, whose sound the wind still utters,
+  And then they sit in council what to do,
+  And then they jar again what shall be done?”
+    BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
+
+OH! what a picture of human nature it was when the banker and the
+vagabond sat together in that little drawing-room, facing each
+other,--one in the armchair, one on the sofa! Darvil was still employed
+on some cold meat, and was making wry faces at the very indifferent
+brandy which he had frightened the formal old servant into buying at
+the nearest public-house; and opposite sat the respectable--highly
+respectable man of forms and ceremonies, of decencies and quackeries,
+gazing gravely upon this low, daredevil ruffian:--the well-to-do
+hypocrite--the penniless villain;--the man who had everything to
+lose--the man who had nothing in the wide world but his own mischievous,
+rascally life, a gold watch, chain and seals, which he had stolen the
+day before, and thirteen shillings and threepence halfpenny in his left
+breeches pocket!
+
+The man of wealth was by no means well acquainted with the nature of
+the beast before him. He had heard from Mrs. Leslie (as we remember)
+the outline of Alice’s history, and ascertained that their joint
+_protegee’s_ father was a great blackguard; but he expected to find Mr.
+Darvil a mere dull, brutish villain--a peasant-ruffian--a blunt serf,
+without brains, or their substitute, effrontery. But Luke Darvil was a
+clever, half-educated fellow: he did not sin from ignorance, but had wit
+enough to have bad principles, and he was as impudent as if he had lived
+all his life in the best society. He was not frightened at the banker’s
+drab breeches and imposing air--not he! The Duke of Wellington would not
+have frightened Luke Darvil, unless his grace had had the constables for
+his _aides-de-camp_.
+
+The banker, to use a homely phrase, was “taken aback.”
+
+“Look you here, Mr. What’s-your-name!” said Darvil, swallowing a glass
+of the raw alcohol as if it had been water--“look you now--you can’t
+humbug me. What the devil do you care about my daughter’s respectability
+or comfort, or anything else, grave old dog as you are! It is my
+daughter herself you are licking your brown old chaps at!--and, ‘faith,
+my Alley is a very pretty girl--very--but queer as moonshine. You’ll
+drive a much better bargain with me than with her.”
+
+The banker coloured scarlet--he bit his lips and measured his companion
+from head to foot (while the latter lolled on the sofa), as if he were
+meditating the possibility of kicking him down-stairs. But Luke Darvil
+would have thrashed the banker and all his clerks into the bargain. His
+frame was like a trunk of thews and muscles, packed up by that careful
+dame, Nature, as tightly as possible; and a prizefighter would have
+thought twice before he had entered the ring against so awkward a
+customer. The banker was a man prudent to a fault, and he pushed his
+chair six inches back, as he concluded his survey.
+
+“Sir,” then said he, very quietly, “do not let us misunderstand each
+other. Your daughter is safe from your control--if you molest her, the
+law will protect--”
+
+“She is not of age,” said Darvil. “Your health, old boy.”
+
+“Whether she is of age or not,” returned the banker, unheeding the
+courtesy conveyed in the last sentence, “I do not care three straws--I
+know enough of the law to know that if she have rich friends in this
+town, and you have none, she will be protected and you will go to the
+treadmill.”
+
+“That is spoken like a sensible man,” said Darvil, for the first time
+with a show of respect in his manner; “you now take a practical view of
+matters, as we used to say at the spouting-club.”
+
+“If I were in your situation, Mr. Darvil, I tell you what I would do.
+I would leave my daughter and this town to-morrow morning, and I would
+promise never to return, and never to molest her, on condition she
+allowed me a certain sum from her earnings, paid quarterly.”
+
+“And if I preferred living with her?”
+
+“In that case, I, as a magistrate of this town, would have you sent away
+as a vagrant, or apprehended--”
+
+“Ha!”
+
+“Apprehended on suspicion of stealing that gold chain and seals which
+you wear so ostentatiously.”
+
+“By goles, but you’re a clever fellow,” said Darvil, involuntarily; “you
+know human natur.”
+
+The banker smiled: strange to say, he was pleased with the compliment.
+
+“But,” resumed Darvil, helping himself to another slice of beef, “you
+are in the wrong box--planted in Queer Street, as _we_ say in London;
+for if you care a d--n about my daughter’s respectability, you will
+never muzzle her father on suspicion of theft--and so there’s tit for
+tat, my old gentleman!”
+
+“I shall deny that you are her father, Mr. Darvil; and I think you will
+find it hard to prove the fact in any town where I am a magistrate.”
+
+“By goles, what a good prig you would have made! You are as sharp as a
+gimlet. Surely you were brought up at the Old Bailey!”
+
+“Mr. Darvil, be ruled. You seem a man not deaf to reason, and I ask
+you whether, in any town in this country, a poor man in suspicious
+circumstances can do anything against a rich man whose character is
+established? Perhaps you are right in the main: I have nothing to do
+with that. But I tell you that you shall quit this house in half an
+hour--that you shall never enter it again but at your peril; and if you
+do--within ten minutes from that time you shall be in the town gaol. It
+is no longer a contest between you and your defenceless daughter; it is
+a contest between--”
+
+“A tramper in fustian, and a gemman as drives a coach,” interrupted
+Darvil, laughing bitterly, yet heartily. “Good--good!”
+
+The banker rose. “I think you have made a very clever definition,” said
+he. “Half an hour--you recollect--good evening.”
+
+“Stay,” said Darvil; “you are the first man I have seen for many a year
+that I can take a fancy to. Sit down--sit down, I say, and talk a bit,
+and we shall come to terms soon, I dare say;--that’s right. Lord! how
+I should like to have you on the roadside instead of within these four
+gimcrack walls. Ha! ha! the argufying would be all in my favour then.”
+
+The banker was not a brave man, and his colour changed slightly at
+the intimation of this obliging wish. Darvil eyed him grimly and
+chucklingly.
+
+The rich man resumed: “That may or may not be, Mr. Darvil, according as
+I might happen or not to have pistols about me. But to the point. Quit
+this house without further debate, without noise, without mentioning to
+any one else your claim upon its owner--”
+
+“Well, and the return?”
+
+“Ten guineas now, and the same sum quarterly, as long as the young lady
+lives in this town, and you never persecute her by word or letter.”
+
+“That is forty guineas a year. I can’t live upon it.”
+
+“You will cost less in the House of Correction, Mr. Darvil.”
+
+“Come, make it a hundred: Alley is cheap at that.”
+
+“Not a farthing more,” said the banker, buttoning up his breeches
+pockets with a determined air.
+
+“Well, out with the shiners.”
+
+“Do you promise or not?”
+
+“I promise.”
+
+“There are your ten guineas. If in half an hour you are not gone--why,
+then--”
+
+“Then?”
+
+“Why, then you have robbed me of ten guineas, and must take the usual
+consequences of robbery.”
+
+Darvil started to his feet--his eyes glared--he grasped the
+carving-knife before him.
+
+“You are a bold fellow,” said the banker, quietly; “but it won’t do. It
+is not worth your while to murder me; and I am a man sure to be missed.”
+
+Darvil sank down, sullen and foiled. The respectable man was more than a
+match for the villain.
+
+“Had you been as poor as I,--Gad! what a rogue you would have been!”
+
+“I think not,” said the banker; “I believe roguery to be a very bad
+policy. Perhaps once I _was_ almost as poor as you are, but I never
+turned rogue.”
+
+“You never were in my circumstances,” returned Darvil, gloomily. “I
+was a gentleman’s son. Come, you shall hear my story. My father was
+well-born, but married a maid-servant when he was at college; his family
+disowned him, and left him to starve. He died in the struggle against
+a poverty he was not brought up to, and my dam went into service again;
+became housekeeper to an old bachelor--sent me to school--but mother
+had a family by the old bachelor, and I was taken from school and put to
+trade. All hated me--for I was ugly; damn them! Mother cut me--I wanted
+money--robbed the old bachelor--was sent to gaol, and learned there a
+lesson or two how to rob better in future. Mother died,--I was adrift on
+the world. The world was my foe--could not make it up with the world,
+so we went to war;--you understand, old boy? Married a poor woman and
+pretty;--wife made me jealous--had learned to suspect every one. Alice
+born--did not believe her mine: not like me--perhaps a gentleman’s
+child. I hate--I loathe gentlemen. Got drunk one night--kicked my wife
+in the stomach three weeks after her confinement. Wife died--tried
+for my life--got off. Went to another county--having had a sort of
+education, and being sharp eno’, got work as a mechanic. Hated work just
+as I hated gentlemen--for was I not by blood a gentleman? There was the
+curse. Alice grew up; never looked on her as my flesh and blood. Her
+mother was a w----! Why should not _she_ be one? There, that’s
+enough. Plenty of excuse, I think, for all I have ever done. Curse the
+world--curse the rich--curse the handsome--curse--curse all!”
+
+“You have been a very foolish man,” said the banker; “and seem to me to
+have had very good cards, if you had known how to play them. However,
+that is your lookout. It is not yet too late to repent; age is creeping
+on you.--Man, there is another world.”
+
+The banker said the last words with a tone of solemn and even dignified
+adjuration.
+
+“You think so--do you?” said Darvil, staring at him.
+
+“From my soul I do.”
+
+“Then you are not the sensible man I took you for,” replied Darvil,
+drily; “and I should like to talk to you on that subject.”
+
+But our Dives, however sincere a believer, was by no means one
+
+        “At whose control
+  Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul.”
+
+He had words of comfort for the pious, but he had none for the
+sceptic--he could soothe, but he could not convert. It was not in his
+way; besides, he saw no credit in making a convert of Luke Darvil.
+Accordingly, he again rose with some quickness, and said:
+
+“No, sir; that is useless, I fear, and I have no time to spare; and so
+once more good night to you.”
+
+“But you have not arranged where my allowance is to be sent.”
+
+“Ah! true; I will guarantee it. You will find my name sufficient
+security.”
+
+“At least, it is the best I can get,” returned Darvil, carelessly; “and
+after all, it is not a bad chance day’s work. But I’m sure I can’t say
+where the money shall be sent. I don’t know a man who would not grab
+it.”
+
+“Very well, then--the best thing (I speak as a man of business) will be
+to draw on me for ten guineas quarterly. Wherever you are staying,
+any banker can effect this for you. But mind, if ever you overdraw the
+account stops.”
+
+“I understand,” said Darvil; “and when I have finished the bottle I
+shall be off.”
+
+“You had better,” replied the banker, as he opened the door.
+
+The rich man returned home hurriedly. “So Alice, after all, has some
+gentle blood in her veins,” thought he. “But that father--no, it will
+never do. I wish he were hanged and nobody the wiser. I should
+very much like to arrange the matter without marrying; but
+then--scandal--scandal--scandal. After all, I had better give up all
+thoughts of her. She is monstrous handsome, and so--humph:--I shall
+never grow an old man.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+ “Began to bend down his admiring eyes
+  On all her touching looks and qualities,
+  Turning their shapely sweetness every way
+  Till ‘twas his food and habit day by day.”
+    LEIGH HUNT.
+
+THERE must have been a secret something about Alice Darvil singularly
+captivating, that (associated as she was with images of the most sordid
+and the vilest crimes) left her still pure and lovely alike in the eyes
+of a man as fastidious as Ernest Maltravers, and of a man as influenced
+by all the thoughts and theories of the world as the shrewd banker of
+C------. Amidst things foul and hateful had sprung up this beautiful
+flower, as if to preserve the inherent heavenliness and grace of human
+nature, and proclaim the handiwork of God in scenes where human nature
+had been most debased by the abuses of social art; and where the light
+of God Himself was most darkened and obscured. That such contrasts,
+though rarely and as by chance, are found, every one who has carefully
+examined the wastes and deserts of life must own. I have drawn Alice
+Darvil scrupulously from life, and I can declare that I have not
+exaggerated hue or lineament in the portrait. I do not suppose, with
+our good banker, that she owed anything, unless it might be a greater
+delicacy of form and feature, to whatever mixture of gentle blood was in
+her veins. But, somehow or other, in her original conformation there
+was the happy bias of the plantes towards the Pure and the Bright. For,
+despite Helvetius, a common experience teaches us that though education
+and circumstances may mould the mass, Nature herself sometimes forms the
+individual, and throws into the clay, or its spirit, so much of beauty
+or deformity, that nothing can utterly subdue the original elements of
+character. From sweets one draws poison--from poisons another extracts
+but sweets. But I, often deeply pondering over the psychological history
+of Alice Darvil, think that one principal cause why she escaped
+the early contaminations around her was in the slow and protracted
+development of her intellectual faculties. Whether or not the brutal
+violence of her father had in childhood acted through the nerves upon
+the brain, certain it is that until she knew Maltravers--until she
+loved--till she was cherished--her mind had seemed torpid and locked
+up. True, Darvil had taught her nothing, nor permitted her to be taught
+anything; but that mere ignorance would have been no preservation to
+a quick, observant mind. It was the bluntness of the senses themselves
+that operated tike an armour between her mind and the vile things around
+her. It was the rough, dull covering of the chrysalis, framed to bear
+rude contact and biting weather, that the butterfly might break forth,
+winged and glorious, in due season. Had Alice been a quick child, Alice
+would have probably grown up a depraved and dissolute woman; but she
+comprehended, she understood little or nothing, till she found an
+inspirer in that affection which inspires both beast and man; which
+makes the dog (in his natural state one of the meanest of the savage
+race) a companion, a guardian, a protector, and raises Instinct half-way
+to the height of Reason.
+
+The banker had a strong regard for Alice; and when he reached home,
+he heard with great pain that she was in a high state of fever. She
+remained beneath his roof that night, and the elderly gentlewoman, his
+relation and _gouvernante_, attended her. The banker slept but little;
+and the next morning his countenance was unusually pale. Towards
+daybreak Alice had fallen into a sound and refreshing sleep; and when,
+on waking, she found, by a note from her host, that her father had left
+her house, and she might return in safety and without fear, a violent
+flood of tears, followed by long and grateful prayer, contributed to
+the restoration of her mind and nerves. Imperfect as this young woman’s
+notions of abstract right and wrong still were, she was yet sensible
+to the claims of a father (no matter how criminal) upon his child: for
+feelings with her were so good and true, that they supplied in a great
+measure the place of principles. She knew that she could not have lived
+under the same roof with her dreadful parent; but she still felt
+an uneasy remorse at thinking he had been driven from that roof in
+destitution and want. She hastened to dress herself and seek an audience
+with her protector; and the latter found with admiration and pleasure
+that he had anticipated her own instantaneous and involuntary design
+in the settlement made upon Darvil. He then communicated to Alice the
+compact he had already formed with her father, and she wept and kissed
+his hand when she heard, and secretly resolved that she would work hard
+to be enabled to increase the sum allowed. Oh, if her labours could
+serve to retrieve a parent from the necessity of darker resources for
+support! Alas! when crime has become a custom, it is like gaming or
+drinking--the excitement is wanting; and had Luke Darvil been suddenly
+made inheritor of the wealth of a Rothschild, he would either still have
+been a villain in one way or the other; or _ennui_ would have awakened
+conscience, and he would have died of the change of habit.
+
+Our banker always seemed more struck by Alice’s moral feelings than even
+by her physical beauty. Her love for her child, for instance, impressed
+him powerfully, and he always gazed upon her with softer eyes when
+he saw her caressing or nursing the little fatherless creature, whose
+health was now delicate and precarious. It is difficult to say whether
+he was absolutely in love with Alice; the phrase is too strong, perhaps,
+to be applied to a man past fifty, who had gone through emotions and
+trials enough to wear away freshness from his heart. His feelings
+altogether for Alice, the designs he entertained towards her, were of a
+very complicated nature; and it will be long, perhaps, before the reader
+can thoroughly comprehend them. He conducted Alice home that day; but
+he said little by the way, perhaps because his female relation, for
+appearance’ sake, accompanied them also. He, however, briefly cautioned
+Alice on no account to communicate to any one that it was her father
+who had been her visitor; and she still shuddered too much at the
+reminiscence to appear likely to converse on it. The banker also judged
+it advisable to be so far confidential with Alice’s servant as to take
+her aside, and tell her that the inauspicious stranger of the previous
+evening had been a very distant relation of Mrs. Butler, who, from a
+habit of drunkenness, had fallen into evil and disorderly courses. The
+banker added with a sanctified air that he trusted, by a little serious
+conversation, he had led the poor man to better notions, and that he had
+gone home with an altered mind to his family. “But, my good Hannah,” he
+concluded, “you know you are a superior person, and above the vulgar
+sin of indiscriminate gossip; therefore, mention what has occurred to no
+one; it can do no good to Mrs. Butler--it may hurt the man himself, who
+is well-to-do--better off than he seems; and who, I hope, with grace,
+may be a sincere penitent; and it will also--but that is nothing--very
+seriously displease me. By the by, Hannah, I shall be able to get your
+grandson into the Free School.”
+
+The banker was shrewd enough to perceive that he had carried his point;
+and he was walking home, satisfied, on the whole, with the way matters
+had been arranged, when he was met by a brother magistrate.
+
+“Ha!” said the latter, “and how are you, my good sir? Do you know that
+we have had the Bow Street officers here, in search of a notorious
+villain who has broken from prison? He is one of the most determined and
+dexterous burglars in all England, and the runners have hunted him into
+our town. His very robberies have tracked him by the way. He robbed a
+gentleman the day before yesterday of his watch, and left him for dead
+on the road--this was not thirty miles hence.”
+
+“Bless me!” said the banker, with emotion; “and what is the wretch’s
+name?”
+
+“Why, he has as many aliases as a Spanish grandee; but I believe the
+last name he has assumed is Peter Watts.”
+
+“Oh!” said our friend, relieved,--“well, have the runners found him?”
+
+“No, but they are on his scent. A fellow answering to his description
+was seen by the man at the toll-bar, at daybreak this morning, on the
+way to F------; the officers are after him.”
+
+“I hope he may meet with his deserts--and crime is never unpunished
+even in this world. My best compliments to your lady:--and how is little
+Jack?--Well! glad to hear it--fine boy, little Jack! good day.”
+
+“Good day, my dear sir. Worthy man, that!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+ “But who is this? thought he, a demon vile.
+  With wicked meaning and a vulgar style;
+  Hammond they call him--they can give the name
+  Of man to devils. Why am I so tame?
+  Why crush I not the viper? Fear replied,
+  Watch him a while, and let his strength be tried.”
+    CRABBE.
+
+THE next morning, after breakfast, the banker took his horse--a
+crop-eared, fast-trotting hackney--and merely leaving word that he was
+going upon business into the country, and should not return to dinner,
+turned his back on the spires of C------.
+
+He rode slowly, for the day was hot. The face of the country, which was
+fair and smiling, might have tempted others to linger by the way; but
+our hard and practical man of the world was more influenced by the
+weather than the loveliness of the scenery. He did not look upon Nature
+with the eye of imagination; perhaps a railroad, had it then and there
+existed, would have pleased him better than the hanging woods, the
+shadowy valleys, and the changeful river that from time to time
+beautified the landscape on either side the road. But, after all, there
+is a vast deal of hypocrisy in the affected admiration for Nature;--and
+I don’t think one person in a hundred cares for what lies by the side
+of a road, so long as the road itself is good, hills levelled, and
+turnpikes cheap.
+
+It was midnoon, and many miles had been passed, when the banker
+turned down a green lane and quickened his pace. At the end of about
+three-quarters of an hour, he arrived at a little solitary inn,
+called “The Angler,”--put up his horse, ordered his dinner at six
+o’clock--begged to borrow a basket to hold his fish--and it was then
+apparent that a longish cane he had carried with him was capable of
+being extended into a fishing-rod. He fitted in the various joints with
+care, as if to be sure no accident had happened to the implement by the
+journey--pried anxiously into the contents of a black case of lines and
+flies--slung the basket behind his back, and while his horse was putting
+down his nose and whisking about his tail, in the course of those
+nameless coquetries that horses carry on with hostlers--our worthy
+brother of the rod strode rapidly through some green fields, gained the
+riverside, and began fishing with much semblance of earnest interest
+in the sport. He had caught one trout, seemingly by accident--for the
+astonished fish was hooked up on the outside of its jaw--probably while
+in the act, not of biting, but of gazing at, the bait, when he grew
+discontented with the spot he had selected; and, after looking round
+as if to convince himself that he was not liable to be disturbed or
+observed (a thought hateful to the fishing fraternity), he stole quickly
+along the margin, and finally quitting the riverside altogether, struck
+into a path that, after a sharp walk of nearly all hour, brought him
+to the door of a cottage. He knocked twice, and then entered of his own
+accord--nor was it till the summer sun was near its decline that the
+banker regained his inn. His simple dinner, which they had delayed in
+wonder at the protracted absence of the angler, and in expectation of
+the fishes he was to bring back to be fried, was soon despatched; his
+horse was ordered to the door, and the red clouds in the west already
+betokened the lapse of another day, as he spurred from the spot on the
+fast-trotting hackney, fourteen miles an hour.
+
+“That ‘ere gemman has a nice bit of blood,” said the hostler, scratching
+his ear.
+
+“Oiy,--who be he?” said a hanger-on of the stables.
+
+“I dooan’t know. He has been here twice afoar, and he never cautches
+anything to sinnify--he be mighty fond of fishing, surely.”
+
+Meanwhile, away sped the banker--milestone on milestone glided by--and
+still, scarce turning a hair, trotted gallantly out the good hackney.
+But the evening grew darker, and it began to rain; a drizzling,
+persevering rain, that wets a man through ere he is aware of it. After
+his fiftieth year, a gentleman who has a tender regard for himself does
+not like to get wet; and the rain inspired the banker, who was subject
+to rheumatism, with the resolution to take a short cut along the fields.
+There were one or two low hedges by this short way, but the banker had
+been there in the spring, and knew every inch of the ground. The hackney
+leaped easily--and the rider had a tolerably practised seat--and two
+miles saved might just prevent the menaced rheumatism: accordingly, our
+friend opened a white gate, and scoured along the fields without any
+misgivings as to the prudence of his choice. He arrived at his first
+leap--there was the hedge, its summit just discernible in the dim
+light. On the other side, to the right was a haystack, and close by this
+haystack seemed the most eligible place for clearing the obstacle. Now
+since the banker had visited this place, a deep ditch, that served as a
+drain, had been dug at the opposite base of the hedge, of which neither
+horse nor man was aware, so that the leap was far more perilous than was
+anticipated. Unconscious of this additional obstacle, the rider set off
+in a canter. The banker was high in air, his loins bent back, his rein
+slackened, his right hand raised knowingly--when the horse took fright
+at an object crouched by the haystack--swerved, plunged midway into
+the ditch, and pitched its rider two or three yards over its head. The
+banker recovered himself sooner than might have been expected; and,
+finding himself, though bruised and shaken, still whole and sound,
+hastened to his horse. But the poor animal had not fared so well as its
+master, and its off-shoulder was either put out or dreadfully
+sprained. It had scrambled its way out of the ditch, and there it
+stood disconsolate by the hedge, as lame as one of the trees that, at
+irregular intervals, broke the symmetry of the barrier. On ascertaining
+the extent of his misfortune, the banker became seriously uneasy; the
+rain increased--he was several miles yet from home--he was in the midst
+of houseless fields, with another leap before him--the leap he had just
+passed behind--and no other egress that he knew of into the main road.
+While these thoughts passed through his brain, he became suddenly aware
+that he was not alone. The dark object that had frightened his horse
+rose slowly from the snug corner it had occupied by the haystack, and
+a gruff voice that made the banker thrill to the marrow of his bones,
+cried, “Holla, who the devil are you?”
+
+Lame as his horse was, the banker instantly put his foot into the
+stirrup; but before he could mount, a heavy gripe was laid on his
+shoulder--and turning round with as much fierceness as he could assume,
+he saw--what the tone of the voice had already led him to forebode--the
+ill-omened and cut-throat features of Luke Darvil.
+
+“Ha! ha! my old annuitant, my clever feelosofer--jolly old boy--how
+are you?--give us a fist. Who would have thought to meet you on a
+rainy night, by a lone haystack, with a deep ditch on one side, and
+no chimney-pot within sight? Why, old fellow, I, Luke Darvil,--I, the
+vagabond--I whom you would have sent to the treadmill for being poor,
+and calling on my own daughter--I am as rich as you are here--and as
+great, and as strong, and as powerful.”
+
+And while he spoke, Darvil, who was really an undersized man, seemed to
+swell and dilate, till he appeared half a head taller than the shrinking
+banker, who was five feet eleven inches without his shoes.
+
+“E-hem!” said the rich man, clearing his throat, which seemed to him
+uncommonly husky; “I do not know whether I insulted your poverty, my
+dear Mr. Darvil--I hope not; but this is hardly a time for talking--pray
+let me mount, and--”
+
+“Not a time for talking!” interrupted Darvil angrily; “it’s just the
+time to my mind: let me consider,--ay, I told you that whenever we met
+by the roadside it would be my turn to have the best of the argufying.”
+
+“I dare say--I dare say, my good fellow.”
+
+“Fellow not me!--I won’t be fellowed now. I say I have the best of it
+here--man to man--I am your match.”
+
+“But why quarrel with me?” said the banker, coaxingly; “I never meant
+you harm, and I am sure you cannot mean me harm.”
+
+“No!--and why?” asked Darvil, coolly;--“why do you think I can mean you
+no harm?”
+
+“Because your annuity depends on me.”
+
+“Shrewdly put--we’ll argufy that point. My life is a bad one, not worth
+more than a year’s purchase; now, suppose you have more than forty
+pounds about you--it may be better worth my while to draw my knife
+across your gullet than to wait for the quarter-day’s ten pounds a
+time. You see it’s all a matter of calculation, my dear, Mr.
+What’s-your-name!”
+
+“But,” replied the banker, and his teeth began to chatter, “I have not
+forty pounds about me.”
+
+“How do I know that?--you say so. Well, in the town yonder your word
+goes for more than mine; I never gainsaid you when you put that to me,
+did I? But here, by the haystack, my word is better than yours; and if
+I say you must and shall have forty pounds about you, let’s see whether
+you dare contradict me.”
+
+“Look you, Darvil,” said the banker, summoning up all his energy and
+intellect, for his moral power began now to back his physical cowardice,
+and he spoke calmly, and even bravely, though his heart throbbed
+aloud against his breast, and you might have knocked him down with a
+feather--“the London runners are even now hot after you.”
+
+“Ha!--you lie!”
+
+“Upon my honour I speak the truth; I heard the news last evening. They
+tracked you to C------; they tracked you out of the town; a word from me
+would have given you into their hands. I said nothing--you are safe--you
+may yet escape. I will even help you to fly the country, and live out
+your natural date of years, secure and in peace.”
+
+“You did not say that the other day in the snug drawing-room; you see I
+have the best of it now--own that.”
+
+“I do,” said the banker.
+
+Darvil chuckled, and rubbed his hands.
+
+The man of wealth once more felt his importance, and went on. “This is
+one side of the question. On the other, suppose you rob and murder me,
+do you think my death will lessen the heat of the pursuit against you?
+The whole country will be in arms, and before forty-eight hours are over
+you will be hunted down like a mad dog.”
+
+Darvil was silent, as if in thought; and after a pause, replied: “Well,
+you are a ‘cute one after all. What have you got about you? you know
+you drove a hard bargain the other day--now it’s my market--fustian has
+riz--kersey has fell.”
+
+“All I have about me shall be yours,” said the banker, eagerly.
+
+“Give it me, then.”
+
+“There!” said the banker, placing his purse and pocketbook into Darvil’s
+bands.
+
+“And the watch?”
+
+“The watch?--well there!”
+
+“What’s that?”
+
+The banker’s senses were sharpened by fear, but they were not so sharp
+as those of Darvil; he heard nothing but the rain pattering on the
+leaves, and the rush of water in the ditch at hand. Darvil stooped and
+listened--till, raising himself again, with a deep-drawn breath, he
+said, “I think there are rats in the haystack; they will be running over
+me in my sleep; but they are playful creturs, and I like ‘em. And now,
+my _dear_ sir, I am afraid I must put an end to you!”
+
+“Good Heavens, what do you mean? How?”
+
+“Man, there is another world!” quoth the ruffian, mimicking the banker’s
+solemn tone in their former interview. “So much the better for you! In
+that world they don’t tell tales.”
+
+“I swear I will never betray you.”
+
+“You do?--swear it, then.”
+
+“By all my hopes of earth and heaven!”
+
+“What a d-----d coward you be!” said Darvil, laughing scornfully.
+“Go--you are safe. I am in good humour with myself again. I crow over
+you, for no man can make me tremble. And villain as you think me, while
+you fear me you cannot despise--you respect me. Go, I say--go.”
+
+The banker was about to obey, when suddenly, from the haystack, a broad,
+red light streamed upon the pair, and the next moment Darvil was seized
+from behind, and struggling in the gripe of a man nearly as powerful
+as himself. The light, which came from a dark-lanthorn, placed on
+the ground, revealed the forms of a peasant in a smock-frock, and two
+stout-built, stalwart men, armed with pistols--besides the one engaged
+with Darvil.
+
+The whole of this scene was brought as by the trick of the stage--as
+by a flash of lightning--as by the change of a showman’s
+phantasmagoria--before the astonished eyes of the banker. He stood
+arrested and spell-bound, his hand on his bridle, his foot on his
+stirrup. A moment more and Darvil had clashed his antagonist on the
+ground; he stood at a little distance, his face reddened by the glare of
+the lanthorn and fronting his assailants--that fiercest of all beasts,
+a desperate man at bay! He had already succeeded in drawing forth his
+pistols, and he held one in each hand--his eyes flashing from beneath
+his bent brows and turning quickly from foe to foe! At last those
+terrible eyes rested on the late reluctant companion of his solitude.
+
+“So _you_ then betrayed me,” he said, very slowly, and directed his
+pistol to the head of the dismounted horseman.
+
+“No, no!” cried one of the officers, for such were Darvil’s assailants;
+“fire away in this direction, my hearty--we’re paid for it. The
+gentleman knew nothing at all about it.”
+
+“Nothing, by G--!” cried the banker, startled out of his sanctity.
+
+“Then I shall keep my shot,” said Darvil; “and mind, the first who
+approaches me is a dead man.”
+
+It so happened that the robber and the officers were beyond the distance
+which allows sure mark for a pistol-shot, and each party felt the
+necessity of caution.
+
+“Your time is up, my swell cove!” cried the head of the detachment; “you
+have had your swing, and a long one it seems to have been--you must now
+give in. Throw down your barkers, or we must make mutton of you, and rob
+the gallows.”
+
+Darvil did not reply, and the officers, accustomed to hold life cheap,
+moved on towards him--their pistols cocked and levelled.
+
+Darvil fired--one of the men staggered and fell. With a kind of instinct
+Darvil had singled out the one with whom he had before wrestled for
+life. The ruffian waited not for the others--he turned and fled along
+the fields.
+
+“Zounds, he is off!” cried the other two, and they rushed after him in
+pursuit. A pause--a shot--another--an oath--a groan--and all was still.
+
+“It’s all up with him now,” said one of the runners, in the distance;
+“he dies game.”
+
+At these words, the peasant, who had before skulked behind the haystack,
+seized the lanthorn from the ground, and ran to the spot. The banker
+involuntarily followed.
+
+There lay Luke Darvil on the grass--still living, but a horrible and
+ghastly spectacle. One ball had pierced his breast, another had shot
+away his jaw. His eyes rolled fearfully, and he tore up the grass with
+his hands.
+
+The officers looked coldly on. “He was a clever fellow!” said one.
+
+“And has given us much trouble,” said the other; “let us see to Will.”
+
+“But he’s not dead yet,” said the banker, shuddering.
+
+“Sir, he cannot live a minute.”
+
+Darvil raised himself bolt upright--shook his clenched fist at his
+conquerors, and a fearful gurgling howl, which the nature of his wounds
+did not allow him to syllable into a curse, came from his breast--with
+that he fell flat on his back--a corpse.
+
+“I am afraid, sir,” said the elder officer, turning away, “you had a
+narrow escape--but how came you here?”
+
+“Rather, how came _you_ here?”
+
+“Honest Hodge there, with the lanthorn, had marked the fellow skulk
+behind the haystack, when he himself was going out to snare rabbits. He
+had seen our advertisement of Watts’ person, and knew that we were then
+at a public house some miles off. He came to us--conducted us to the
+spot--we heard voices--showed up the glim--and saw our man. Hodge, you
+are a good subject, and love justice.”
+
+“Yees, but I shall have the rewourd,” said Hodge, showing his teeth.
+
+“Talk o’ that by and by,” said the officer. “Will, how are you, man?”
+
+“Bad,” groaned the poor runner, and a rush of blood from the lips
+followed the groan.
+
+It was many days before the ex-member for C------ sufficiently recovered
+the tone of his mind to think further of Alice; when he did, it was with
+great satisfaction that he reflected that Darvil was no more, and that
+the deceased ruffian was only known to the neighbourhood by the name of
+Peter Watts.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK V.
+
+PARODY.
+
+  My hero, turned author, lies mute in this section,
+  You may pass by the place if you’re bored by reflection:
+  But if honest enough to be fond of the Muse,
+  Stay, and read where you’re able, and sleep where you choose.
+   THEOC. _Epig. in Hippon_.
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+        “My genius spreads her wing,
+  And flies where Britain courts the western spring.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+  Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,
+  I see the lords of human kind pass by,
+  Intent on high designs.”--GOLDSMITH.
+
+I HAVE no respect for the Englishman who re-enters London after long
+residence abroad without a pulse that beats quick and a heart that
+heaves high. The public buildings are few, and, for the most part, mean;
+the monuments of antiquity not comparable to those which the pettiest
+town in Italy can boast of; the palaces are sad rubbish; the houses of
+our peers and princes are shabby and shapeless heaps of brick. But
+what of all this? the spirit of London is in her thoroughfares--her
+population! What wealth--what cleanliness--what order--what animation!
+How majestic, and yet how vivid, is the life that runs through her
+myriad veins! How, as the lamps blaze upon you at night, and street
+after street glides by your wheels, each so regular in its symmetry, so
+equal in its civilization--how all speak of the CITY OF FREEMEN.
+
+Yes, Maltravers felt his heart swell within him as the post-horses
+whirled on his dingy carriage--over Westminster Bridge--along
+Whitehall--through Regent Street--towards one of the quiet and
+private-house-like hotels that are scattered round the neighbourhood of
+Grosvenor Square.
+
+Ernest’s arrival had been expected. He had written from Paris to
+Cleveland to announce it; and Cleveland had, in reply, informed him
+that he had engaged apartments for him at Mivart’s. The smiling waiters
+ushered him into a spacious and well-aired room--the armchair was
+already wheeled by the fire--a score or so of letters strewed the table,
+together with two of the evening papers. And how eloquently of busy
+England do those evening papers speak! A stranger might have felt that
+he wanted no friend to welcome him--the whole room smiled on him a
+welcome.
+
+Maltravers ordered his dinner and opened his letters: they were of no
+importance; one from his steward, one from his banker, another about the
+county races, a fourth from a man he had never heard of, requesting the
+vote and powerful interest of Mr. Maltravers for the county of B------,
+should the rumour of a dissolution be verified; the unknown candidate
+referred Mr. Maltravers to his “well-known public character.” From
+these epistles Ernest turned impatiently, and perceived a little
+three-cornered note which had hitherto escaped his attention. It was
+from Cleveland, intimating that he was in town; that his health still
+precluded his going out, but that he trusted to see his dear Ernest as
+soon as he arrived.
+
+Maltravers was delighted at the prospect of passing his evening so
+agreeably; he soon despatched his dinner and his newspapers, and walked
+in the brilliant lamplight of a clear frosty evening of early December
+in London, to his friend’s house in Curzon Street: a small house,
+bachelor-like and unpretending; for Cleveland spent his moderate though
+easy fortune almost entirely at his country villa. The familiar face
+of the old valet greeted Ernest at the door, and he only paused to hear
+that his guardian was nearly recovered to his usual health, ere he
+was in the cheerful drawing-room, and--since Englishmen do not
+embrace--returning the cordial gripe of the kindly Cleveland.
+
+“Well, my dear Ernest,” said Cleveland, after they had gone through
+the preliminary round of questions and answers, “here you are at last:
+Heaven be praised; and how well you are looking--how much you are
+improved! It is an excellent period of the year for your _debut_ in
+London. I shall have time to make you intimate with people before the
+whirl of ‘the season’ commences.”
+
+“Why, I thought of going to Burleigh, my country-place. I have not seen
+it since I was a child.”
+
+“No, no! you have had solitude enough at Como, if I may trust to your
+letter; you must now mix with the great London world; and you will enjoy
+Burleigh the more in the summer.”
+
+“I fancy this great London world will give me very little pleasure; it
+may be pleasant enough to young men just let loose from college, but
+your crowded ball-rooms and monotonous clubs will be wearisome to one
+who has grown fastidious before his time. _J’ai vecu beaucoup dans peu
+d’annees_. I have drawn in youth too much upon the capital of existence
+to be highly delighted with the ostentatious parsimony with which our
+great men economise pleasure.”
+
+“Don’t judge before you have gone through the trial,” said Cleveland:
+“there is something in the opulent splendour, the thoroughly sustained
+magnificence, with which the leaders of English fashion conduct even the
+most insipid amusements, that is above contempt. Besides, you need not
+necessarily live with the butterflies. There are plenty of bees that
+will be very happy to make your acquaintance. Add to this, my dear
+Ernest, the pleasure of being made of--of being of importance in your
+own country. For you are young, well-born, and sufficiently handsome to
+be an object of interest to mothers and to daughters; while your name,
+and property, and interest, will make you courted by men who want
+to borrow your money and obtain your influence in your county. No,
+Maltravers, stay in London--amuse yourself your first year, and decide
+on your occupation and career the next; but reconnoitre before you give
+battle.”
+
+Maltravers was not ill-pleased to follow his friend’s advice, since by
+so doing he obtained his friend’s guidance and society. Moreover, he
+deemed it wise and rational to see, face to face, the eminent men in
+England, with whom, if he fulfilled his promise to De Montaigne, he
+was to run the race of honourable rivalry. Accordingly, he consented to
+Cleveland’s propositions.
+
+“And have you,” said he, hesitating, as he loitered by the door after
+the stroke of twelve had warned him to take his leave--“have you never
+heard anything of my--my--the unfortunate Alice Darvil?”
+
+“Who?--Oh, that poor young woman; I remember!--not a syllable.”
+
+Maltravers sighed deeply and departed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+ “Je trouve que c’est une folie de vouloir etudier le monde en
+  simple spectateur. * * * Dans l’ecole du monde, comme dans
+  cette de l’amour, il faut commencer par pratiquer cc qu’on veut
+  apprendre.” *--ROUSSEAU.
+
+* I find that it is a folly to wish to study the world like a simple
+spectator. * * * In the school of the world, as in that of love, it is
+necessary to begin by practising what we wish to learn.
+
+ERNEST MALTRAVERS was now fairly launched upon the wide ocean of London.
+Amongst his other property was a house in Seamore Place--that quiet, yet
+central street, which enjoys the air without the dust of the park. It
+had been hitherto let, and, the tenant now quitting very opportunely,
+Maltravers was delighted to secure so pleasant a residence: for he
+was still romantic enough to desire to look out upon trees and verdure
+rather than brick houses. He indulged only in two other luxuries: his
+love of music tempted him to an opera-box, and he had that English
+feeling which prides itself in the possession of beautiful horses,--a
+feeling that enticed him into an extravagance on this head that baffled
+the competition and excited the envy of much richer men. But four
+thousand a year goes a great way with a single man who does not gamble,
+and is too philosophical to make superfluities wants.
+
+The world doubled his income, magnified his old country-seat into a
+superb chateau, and discovered that his elder brother, who was only
+three or four years older than himself, had no children. The world was
+very courteous to Ernest Maltravers.
+
+It was, as Cleveland said, just at that time of year when people are
+at leisure to make new acquaintances. A few only of the most difficult
+houses in town were open; and their doors were cheerfully expanded to
+the accomplished ward of the popular Cleveland. Authors and statesmen,
+and orators, and philosophers--to all he was presented;--all seemed
+pleased with him, and Ernest became the fashion before he was conscious
+of the distinction. But he had rightly foreboded. He had commenced life
+too soon; he was disappointed; he found some persons he could admire,
+some whom he could like, but none with whom he could grow intimate,
+or for whom he could feel an interest. Neither his heart nor his
+imagination was touched; all appeared to him like artificial machines;
+he was discontented with things like life, but in which something or
+other was wanting. He more than ever recalled the brilliant graces of
+Valerie de Ventadour, which had thrown a charm over the most frivolous
+circles; he even missed the perverse and fantastic vanity of Castruccio.
+The mediocre poet seemed to him at least less mediocre than the
+worldlings about him. Nay, even the selfish good spirits and dry
+shrewdness of Lumley Ferrers would have been an acceptable change to
+the dull polish and unrevealed egotism of jealous wits and party
+politicians. “If these are the flowers of the parterre, what must be the
+weeds?” said Maltravers to himself, returning from a party at which he
+had met half a score of the most orthodox lions.
+
+He began to feel the aching pain of satiety.
+
+But the winter glided away--the season commenced, and Maltravers was
+whirled on with the rest into the bubbling vortex.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ “And crowds commencing mere vexation,
+  Retirement sent its invitation.”--SHENSTONE.
+
+THE tench, no doubt, considers the pond in which he lives as the Great
+World. There is no place, however stagnant, which is not the great world
+to the creatures that move about, in it. People who have lived all their
+lives in a village still talk of the world as if they had ever seen
+it! An old woman in a hovel does not put her nose out of her door on a
+Sunday without thinking she is going amongst the pomps and vanities
+of the great world. _Ergo_, the great world is to all of us the little
+circle in which we live. But as fine people set the fashion, so the
+circle of fine people is called the Great World _par excellence_. Now
+this great world is not a bad thing when we thoroughly understand it;
+and the London great world is at least as good as any other. But then
+we scarcely do understand that or anything else in our _beaux
+jours_,--which, if they are sometimes the most exquisite, are also often
+the most melancholy and the most wasted portion of our life. Maltravers
+had not yet found out either _the set_ that pleased him or the species
+of amusement that really amused. Therefore he drifted on and about
+the vast whirlpool, making plenty of friends--going to balls and
+dinners--and bored with both as men are who have no object in society.
+Now the way society is enjoyed is to have a pursuit, a _metier_ of
+some kind, and then to go into the world, either to make the individual
+object a social pleasure, or to obtain a reprieve from some toilsome
+avocation. Thus, if you are a politician--politics at once make an
+object in your closet, and a social tie between others and yourself when
+you are in the world. The same may be said of literature, though in a
+less degree; and though, as fewer persons care about literature than
+politics, your companions must be more select. If you are very young,
+you are fond of dancing; if you are very profligate, perhaps you are
+fond of flirtations with your friend’s wife. These last are objects in
+their way: but they don’t last long, and, even with the most frivolous,
+are not occupations that satisfy the whole mind and heart, in which
+there is generally an aspiration after something useful. It is not
+vanity alone that makes a man of the _mode_ invent a new bit or give
+his name to a new kind of carriage; it is the influence of that mystic
+yearning after utility, which is one of the master-ties between the
+individual and the species.
+
+Maltravers was not happy--that is a lot common enough; but he was not
+amused--and that is a sentence more insupportable. He lost a great part
+of his sympathy with Cleveland, for, when a man is not amused, he feels
+an involuntary contempt for those who are. He fancies they are pleased
+with trifles which his superior wisdom is compelled to disdain.
+Cleveland was of that age when we generally grow social--for by being
+rubbed long and often against the great loadstone of society, we obtain,
+in a thousand little minute points, an attraction in common with our
+fellows. Their petty sorrows and small joys--their objects of interest
+or employment, at some time or other have been ours. We gather up a vast
+collection of moral and mental farthings of exchange: and we scarcely
+find any intellect too poor, but what we can deal with it in some
+way. But in youth, we are egotists and sentimentalists, and Maltravers
+belonged to the fraternity who employ
+
+   “The heart in passion and the head in rhymes.”
+
+At length--just when London begins to grow most pleasant--when
+flirtations become tender, and water-parties numerous--when birds sing
+in the groves of Richmond, and whitebait refresh the statesman by the
+shores of Greenwich,--Maltravers abruptly fled from the gay metropolis,
+and arrived, one lovely evening in July, at his own ivy-grown porch of
+Burleigh.
+
+What a soft, fresh, delicious evening it was! He had quitted his
+carriage at the lodge, and followed it across the small but picturesque
+park alone and on foot. He had not seen the place since childhood--he
+had quite forgotten its aspect. He now wondered how he could have lived
+anywhere else. The trees did not stand in stately avenues, nor did the
+antlers of the deer wave above the sombre fern; it was not the domain
+of a grand seigneur, but of an old, long-descended English squire.
+Antiquity spoke in the moss-grown palings in the shadowy groves, in
+the sharp gable-ends and heavy mullions of the house, as it now came in
+view, at the base of a hill covered with wood--and partially veiled by
+the shrubs of the neglected pleasure-ground, separated from the park by
+the invisible ha-ha. There, gleamed in the twilight the watery face
+of the oblong fish-pool, with its old-fashioned willows at each
+corner--there, grey and quaint, was the monastic dial--and there was the
+long terrace walk, with discoloured and broken vases, now filled with
+the orange or the aloe, which, in honour of his master’s arrival,
+the gardener had extracted from the dilapidated green-house. The
+very evidence of neglect around, the very weeds and grass on the
+half-obliterated road, touched Maltravers with a sort of pitying and
+remorseful affection for his calm and sequestered residence. And it was
+not with his usual proud step and erect crest that he passed from the
+porch to the solitary library, through a line of his servants:--the two
+or three old retainers belonging to the place were utterly unfamiliar to
+him, and they had no smile for their stranger lord.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+ “_Lucian._ He that is born to be a man neither should nor can
+  be anything nobler, greater, and better than a man.
+
+ “_Peregrine._ But, good Lucian, for the very reason that he may
+  not become less than a man, he should be always striving to be
+  more.”--WIELAND’S _Peregrinus Proteus_.
+
+IT was two years from the date of the last chapter before Maltravers
+again appeared in general society. These two years had sufficed to
+produce a revolution in his fate. Ernest Maltravers had lost the happy
+rights of the private individual; he had given himself to the Public; he
+had surrendered his name to men’s tongues, and was a thing that all had
+a right to praise, to blame, to scrutinise, to spy. Ernest Maltravers
+had become an author.
+
+Let no man tempt Gods and Columns, without weighing well the
+consequences of his experiment. He who publishes a book, attended with a
+moderate success, passes a mighty barrier. He will often look back with
+a sigh of regret at the land he has left for ever. The beautiful and
+decent obscurity of hearth and home is gone. He can no longer feel
+the just indignation of manly pride when he finds himself ridiculed or
+reviled. He has parted with the shadow of his life. His motives may
+be misrepresented, his character belied; his manners, his person, his
+dress, the “very trick of his walk” are all fair food for the cavil
+and the caricature. He can never go back, he cannot even pause; he has
+chosen his path, and all the natural feelings that make the nerve and
+muscle of the active being urge him to proceed. To stop short is to
+fail. He has told the world that he will make a name; and he must be
+set down as a pretender, or toil on till the boast be fulfilled. Yet
+Maltravers thought nothing of all this when, intoxicated with his own
+dreams and aspirations, he desired to make a world his confidant; when
+from the living nature, and the lore of books, and the mingled result of
+inward study and external observation, he sought to draw forth something
+that might interweave his name with the pleasurable associations of his
+kind. His easy fortune and lonely state gave him up to his own thoughts
+and contemplations; they suffused his mind, till it ran over upon the
+page which makes the channel that connects the solitary Fountain with
+the vast Ocean of Human Knowledge. The temperament of Maltravers was,
+as we have seen, neither irritable nor fearful. He formed himself, as a
+sculptor forms, with a model before his eyes and an ideal in his heart.
+He endeavoured, with labour and patience, to approach nearer and nearer
+with every effort to the standard of such excellence as he thought might
+ultimately be attained by a reasonable ambition; and when, at last,
+his judgment was satisfied, he surrendered the product with a tranquil
+confidence to a more impartial tribunal.
+
+His first work was successful; perhaps for this reason--that it bore the
+stamp of the Honest and the Real. He did not sit down to report of what
+he had never seen, to dilate on what he had never felt. A quiet and
+thoughtful observer of life, his descriptions were the more vivid,
+because his own first impressions were not yet worn away. His experience
+had sunk deep; not on the arid surface of matured age, but in the
+fresh soil of youthful emotions. Another reason, perhaps, that obtained
+success for his essay was, that he had more varied and more elaborate
+knowledge than young authors think it necessary to possess. He did not,
+like Cesarini, attempt to make a show of words upon a slender capital of
+ideas. Whether his style was eloquent or homely; it was still in him
+a faithful transcript of considered and digested thought. A third
+reason--and I dwell on these points not more to elucidate the career of
+Maltravers than as hints which may be useful to others--a third reason
+why Maltravers obtained a prompt and favourable reception from the
+public was, that he had not hackneyed his peculiarities of diction
+and thought in that worst of all schools for the literary novice--the
+columns of a magazine. Periodicals form an excellent mode of
+communication between the public and an author _already_ established,
+who has lost the charm of novelty, but gained the weight of acknowledged
+reputation; and who, either upon politics or criticism, seeks for
+frequent and continuous occasions to enforce his peculiar theses and
+doctrines. But, upon the young writer, this mode of communication, if
+too long continued, operates most injuriously both as to his future
+prospects and his own present taste and style. With respect to the
+first, it familiarises the public to his mannerism (and all writers
+worth reading have mannerism) in a form to which the said public are not
+inclined to attach much weight. He forestalls in a few months what ought
+to be the effect of years; namely, the wearying a world soon nauseated
+with the _toujours perdrix_. With respect to the last, it induces a man
+to write for momentary effects; to study a false smartness of style and
+reasoning; to bound his ambition of durability to the last day of the
+month; to expect immediate returns for labour; to recoil at the “hope
+deferred” of serious works on which judgment is slowly formed. The
+man of talent who begins young at periodicals, and goes on long, has
+generally something crude and stunted about both his compositions and
+his celebrity. He grows the oracle of small coteries; and we can rarely
+get out of the impression that he is cockneyfied and conventional.
+Periodicals sadly mortgaged the claims that Hazlitt, and many others of
+his contemporaries, had upon a vast reversionary estate of Fame. But
+I here speak too politically; to some the _res angustoe domi_ leave no
+option. And, as Aristotle and the Greek proverb have it, we cannot carve
+out all things with the knife of the Delphic cutler.
+
+The second work that Maltravers put forth, at an interval of eighteen
+months from the first, was one of a graver and higher nature; it served
+to confirm his reputation: and that is success enough for a second
+work, which is usually an author’s “_pons asinorum_.” He who, after a
+triumphant first book, does not dissatisfy the public with a second,
+has a fair chance of gaining a fixed station in literature. But now
+commenced the pains and perils of the after-birth. By a maiden effort an
+author rarely makes enemies. His fellow-writers are not yet prepared
+to consider him as a rival; if he be tolerably rich, they unconsciously
+trust that he will not become a regular, or, as they term it, “a
+professional” author: he did something just to be talked of; he may
+write no more, or his second book may fail. But when that second book
+comes out, and does not fail, they begin to look about them; envy
+wakens, malice begins. And all the old school--gentlemen who have
+retired on their pensions of renown--regard him as an intruder: then
+the sneer, then the frown, the caustic irony, the biting review, the
+depreciating praise. The novice begins to think that he is further from
+the goal than before he set out upon the race.
+
+Maltravers had, upon the whole, a tolerably happy temperament; but
+he was a very proud man, and he had the nice soul of a courageous,
+honourable, punctilious gentleman. He thought it singular that society
+should call upon him, as a gentleman, to shoot his best friend, if that
+friend affronted him with a rude word; and yet that, as an author, every
+fool and liar might, with perfect impunity, cover reams of paper with
+the most virulent personal abuse of him.
+
+It was one evening in the early summer that, revolving anxious and
+doubtful thoughts, Ernest sauntered gloomily along his terrace,
+
+   “And watched with wistful eyes the setting sun.”
+
+when he perceived a dusty travelling carriage whirled along the road
+by the ha-ha, and a hand waved in recognition from the open window. His
+guests had been so rare, and his friends were so few, that Maltravers
+could not conjecture who was his intended visitant. His brother, he
+knew, was in London. Cleveland, from whom he had that day heard, was at
+his villa. Ferrers was enjoying himself in Vienna. Who could it be? We
+may say of solitude what we please; but, after two years of solitude,
+a visitor is a pleasurable excitement. Maltravers retraced his steps,
+entered his house, and was just in time to find himself almost in the
+arms of De Montaigne.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+     “Quid tam dextro pede concipis ut te,
+  Conatus non poeniteat, votique peracti?” *--JUV.
+
+* What, under such happy auspices do you conceive that you may not
+repent of your endeavour and accomplished wish?
+
+“YES,” said De Montaigne, “in my way I also am fulfilling my destiny. I
+am a member of the _Chambre des Deputes_, and on a visit to England upon
+some commercial affairs. I found myself in your neighbourhood, and, of
+course, could not resist the temptation: so you must receive me as your
+guest for some days.”
+
+“I congratulate you cordially on your senatorial honours. I have already
+heard of your rising name.”
+
+“I return the congratulations with equal warmth. You are bringing my
+prophecies to pass. I have read your works with increased pride at our
+friendship.”
+
+Maltravers sighed slightly, and half turned away.
+
+“The desire of distinction,” said he, after a pause, “grows upon us till
+excitement becomes disease. The child who is born with the mariner’s
+instinct laughs with glee when his paper bark skims the wave of a pool.
+By and by nothing will content him but the ship and the ocean.--Like the
+child is the author.”
+
+“I am pleased with your simile,” said De Montaigne, smiling. “Do not
+spoil it, but go on with your argument.”
+
+Maltravers continued: “Scarcely do we win the applause of a moment,
+ere we summon the past and conjecture the future. Our contemporaries no
+longer suffice for competitors, our age for the Court to pronounce on
+our claims: we call up the Dead as our only true rivals--we appeal to
+Posterity as our sole just tribunal. Is this vain in us? Possibly. Yet
+such vanity humbles. ‘Tis then only we learn all the difference between
+Reputation and Fame--between To-Day and Immortality!”
+
+“Do you think,” replied De Montaigne, “that the dead did not feel the
+same when they first trod the path that leads to the life beyond life?
+Continue to cultivate the mind, to sharpen by exercise the genius, to
+attempt to delight or to instruct your race; and even supposing you fall
+short of every model you set before you--supposing your name moulder
+with your dust, still you will have passed life more nobly than the
+unlaborious herd. Grant that you win not that glorious accident, ‘a name
+below,’ how can you tell but what you may have fitted yourself for high
+destiny and employ in the world not of men, but of spirits? The powers
+of the mind are things that cannot be less immortal than the mere
+sense of identity; their acquisitions accompany us through the Eternal
+Progress; and we may obtain a lower or a higher grade hereafter,
+in proportion as we are more or less fitted by the exercise of our
+intellect to comprehend and execute the solemn agencies of God. The wise
+man is nearer to the angels than the fool is. This may be an apocryphal
+dogma, but it is not an impossible theory.”
+
+“But we may waste the sound enjoyments of actual life in chasing the
+hope you justly allow to be ‘apocryphal;’ and our knowledge may go for
+nothing in the eyes of the Omniscient.”
+
+“Very well,” said De Montaigne, smiling; “but answer me honestly. By the
+pursuits of intellectual ambition do you waste the sound enjoyments of
+life? If so, you do not pursue the system rightly. Those pursuits
+ought only to quicken your sense for such pleasures as are the true
+relaxations of life. And this, with you peculiarly, since you are
+fortunate enough not to depend for subsistence upon literature;--did you
+do so, I might rather advise you to be a trunkmaker than an author. A
+man ought not to attempt any of the highest walks of Mind and Art, as
+the mere provision of daily bread; not literature alone, but everything
+else of the same degree. He ought not to be a statesman, or an orator,
+or a philosopher, as a thing of pence and shillings: and usually all
+men, save the poor poet, feel this truth insensibly.”
+
+“This may be fine preaching,” said Maltravers; “but you may be quite
+sure that the pursuit of literature is a pursuit apart from the ordinary
+objects of life, and you cannot command the enjoyments of both.”
+
+“I think otherwise,” said De Montaigne; “but it is not in a country
+house eighty miles from the capital, without wife, guests, or friends,
+that the experiment can be fairly made. Come, Maltravers, I see before
+you a brave career, and I cannot permit you to halt at the onset.”
+
+“You do not see all the calumnies that are already put forth against me,
+to say nothing of all the assurances (and many by clever men) that there
+is nothing in me!”
+
+“Dennis was a clever man, and said the same thing of your Pope. Madame
+de Sevigne was a clever woman, but she thought Racine would never be
+very famous. Milton saw nothing in the first efforts of Dryden that made
+him consider Dryden better than a rhymester. Aristophanes was a good
+judge of poetry, yet how ill he judged of Euripides! But all this is
+commonplace, and yet you bring arguments that a commonplace answers in
+evidence against yourself.”
+
+“But it is unpleasant not to answer attacks--not to retaliate on
+enemies.”
+
+“Then answer attacks, and retaliate on enemies.”
+
+“But would that be wise?”
+
+“If it give you pleasure--it would not please _me_.”
+
+“Come, De Montaigne, you are reasoning Socratically. I will ask you
+plainly and bluntly, would you advise an author to wage war on his
+literary assailants, or to despise them?”
+
+“Both; let him attack but few, and those rarely. But it is his policy to
+show that he is one whom it is better not to provoke too far. The author
+always has the world on his side against the critics, if he choose
+his opportunity. And he must always recollect that he is ‘A STATE’ in
+himself, which must sometimes go to war in order to procure peace. The
+time for war or for peace must be left to the State’s own diplomacy and
+wisdom.”
+
+“You would make us political machines.”
+
+“It would make every man’s conduct more or less mechanical; for system
+is the triumph of mind over matter; the just equilibrium of all the
+powers and passions may seem like machinery. Be it so. Nature meant the
+world--the creation--man himself, for machines.”
+
+“And one must even be in a passion mechanically, according to your
+theories.”
+
+“A man is a poor creature who is not in a passion sometimes; but a very
+unjust, or a very foolish one, if he be in a passion with the wrong
+person, and in the wrong place and time. But enough of this, it is
+growing late.”
+
+“And when will Madame visit England?”
+
+“Oh, not yet, I fear. But you will meet Cesarini in London this year
+or the next. He is persuaded that you did not see justice done to his
+poems, and is coming here as soon as his indolence will let him, to
+proclaim your treachery in a biting preface to some toothless satire.”
+
+“Satire!”
+
+“Yes; more than one of your poets made their way by a satire, and
+Cesarini is persuaded he shall do the same. Castruccio is not as
+far-sighted as his namesake, the Prince of Lucca. Good night, my dear
+Ernest.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+ “When with much pains this boasted learning’s got,
+  ‘Tis an affront to those who have it not.”
+    CHURCHILL: _The Author_.
+
+THERE was something in De Montaigne’s conversation, which, without
+actual flattery, reconciled Maltravers to himself and his career. It
+served less, perhaps, to excite than to sober and brace his mind. De
+Montaigne could have made no man rash, but he could have made many men
+energetic and persevering. The two friends had some points in common;
+but Maltravers had far more prodigality of nature and passion about
+him--had more of flesh and blood, with the faults and excellences of
+flesh and blood. De Montaigne held so much to his favourite doctrine
+of moral equilibrium, that he had really reduced himself in much to
+a species of clockwork. As impulses are formed from habits, so the
+regularity of De Montaigne’s habits made his impulses virtuous and just,
+and he yielded to them as often as a hasty character might have done;
+but then those impulses never urged to anything speculative or daring.
+De Montaigne could not go beyond a certain defined circle of action. He
+had no sympathy for any reasonings based purely on the hypotheses of the
+imagination: he could not endure Plato, and he was dumb to the eloquent
+whispers of whatever was refining in poetry or mystical in wisdom.
+
+Maltravers, on the contrary, not disdaining Reason, ever sought
+to assist her by the Imaginative Faculty, and held all philosophy
+incomplete and unsatisfactory that bounded its inquiries to the limits
+of the Known and Certain. He loved the inductive process; but he carried
+it out to Conjecture as well as Fact. He maintained that, by a similar
+hardihood, all the triumphs of science, as well as art, had been
+accomplished--that Newton, that Copernicus, would have done nothing
+if they had not imagined as well as reasoned, guessed as well as
+ascertained. Nay, it was an aphorism with him, that the very soul of
+philosophy is conjecture. He had the most implicit confidence in the
+operations of the mind and the heart properly formed, and deemed
+that the very excesses of emotion and thought, in men well trained by
+experience and study, are conducive to useful and great ends. But
+the more advanced years, and the singularly practical character of De
+Montaigne’s views, gave him a superiority in argument over Maltravers
+which the last submitted to unwillingly. While, on the other hand, De
+Montaigne secretly felt that his young friend reasoned from a broader
+base, and took in a much wider circumference; and that he was, at once,
+more liable to failure and error, and more capable of new discovery and
+of intellectual achievement. But their ways in life being different,
+they did not clash; and De Montaigne, who was sincerely interested in
+Ernest’s fate, was contented to harden his friend’s mind against
+the obstacles in his way, and leave the rest to experiment and to
+Providence. They went up to London together: and De Montaigne returned
+to Paris. Maltravers appeared once more in the haunts of the gay and
+great. He felt that his new character had greatly altered his
+position. He was no longer courted and caressed for the same vulgar
+and adventitious circumstances of fortune, birth, and connections, as
+before--yet for circumstances that to him seemed equally unflattering.
+He was not sought for his merit, his intellect, his talents; but for
+his momentary celebrity. He was an author in fashion, and run after as
+anything else in fashion might have been. He was invited, less to be
+talked to than to be stared at. He was far too proud in his temper,
+and too pure in his ambition, to feel his vanity elated by sharing the
+enthusiasm of the circles with a German prince or an industrious flea.
+Accordingly he soon repelled the advances made to him, was reserved and
+supercilious to fine ladies, refused to be the fashion, and became very
+unpopular with the literary exclusives. They even began to run down the
+works, because they were dissatisfied with the author. But Maltravers
+had based his experiments upon the vast masses of the general Public. He
+had called the PEOPLE of his own and other countries to be his audience
+and his judges; and all the coteries in the world could have not injured
+him. He was like the member for an immense constituency, who may offend
+individuals, so long as he keep his footing with the body at large. But
+while he withdrew himself from the insipid and the idle, he took care
+not to become separated from the world. He formed his own society
+according to his tastes: took pleasure in the manly and exciting topics
+of the day; and sharpened his observation and widened his sphere as an
+author, by mixing freely and boldly with all classes as a citizen. But
+literature became to him as art to the artist--as his mistress to the
+lover--an engrossing and passionate delight. He made it his glorious
+and divine profession--he loved it as a profession--he devoted to its
+pursuits and honours his youth, cares, dreams--his mind, and his heart,
+and his soul. He was a silent but intense enthusiast in the priesthood
+he had entered. From LITERATURE he imagined had come all that makes
+nations enlightened and men humane. And he loved Literature the more,
+because her distinctions were not those of the world--because she had
+neither ribbands, nor stars, nor high places at her command. A name in
+the deep gratitude and hereditary delight of men--this was the title
+she bestowed. Hers was the Great Primitive Church of the world, without
+Popes or Muftis--sinecures, pluralities and hierarchies. Her servants
+spoke to the earth as the prophets of old, anxious only to be heard and
+believed. Full of this fanaticism, Ernest Maltravers pursued his way
+in the great procession of the myrtle-bearers to the sacred shrine.
+He carried the thyrsus, and he believed in the god. By degrees his
+fanaticism worked in him the philosophy which De Montaigne would have
+derived from sober calculation; it made him indifferent to the thorns in
+the path, to the storms in the sky. He learned to despise the enmity he
+provoked, the calumnies that assailed him. Sometimes he was silent, but
+sometimes he retorted. Like a soldier who serves a cause, he believed
+that when the cause was injured in his person, the weapons confided to
+his hands might be wielded without fear and without reproach. Gradually
+he became feared as well as known. And while many abused him, none could
+contemn.
+
+It would not suit the design of this work to follow Maltravers step by
+step in his course. I am only describing the principal events, not the
+minute details, of his intellectual life. Of the character of his
+works it will be enough to say that, whatever their faults, they were
+original--they were his own. He did not write according to copy, nor
+compile from commonplace books. He was an artist, it is true,--for what
+is genius itself but art? but he took laws, and harmony, and order,
+from the great code of Truth and Nature: a code that demands intense and
+unrelaxing study--though its first principles are few and simple: that
+study Maltravers did not shrink from. It was a deep love of truth that
+made him a subtle and searching analyst, even in what the dull world
+considers trifles; for he knew that nothing in literature is in itself
+trifling--that it is often but a hairsbreadth that divides a truism from
+a discovery. He was the more original, because he sought rather after
+the True than the New. No two minds are ever the same; and therefore
+any man who will give us fairly and frankly the results of his own
+impressions, uninfluenced by the servilities of imitation, will be
+original. But it was not from originality, which really made his
+predominant merit, that Maltravers derived his reputation, for his
+originality was not of that species which generally dazzles the
+vulgar--it was not extravagant nor _bizarre_--he affected no system and
+no school. Many authors of his day seemed more novel and _unique_ to the
+superficial. Profound and durable invention proceeds by subtle and fine
+gradations--it has nothing to do with those jerks and starts, those
+convulsions and distortions, which belong not to the vigour and health,
+but to the epilepsy and disease, of Literature.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+ “Being got out of town, the first thing I did was to give my
+  mule her head.”--_Gil Blas_.
+
+ALTHOUGH the character of Maltravers was gradually becoming more hard
+and severe,--although as his reason grew more muscular, his imagination
+lost something of its early bloom, and he was already very different
+from the wild boy who had set the German youths in a blaze, and had
+changed into a Castle of Indolence the little cottage tenanted with
+Poetry and Alice,--he still preserved many of his old habits; he loved,
+at frequent intervals, to disappear from the great world--to get rid of
+books and friends, and luxury and wealth, and make solitary excursions,
+sometimes on foot, sometimes on horseback, through this fair garden of
+England.
+
+It was one soft May-day that he found himself on such an expedition,
+slowly riding through one of the green lanes of ------shire. His cloak
+and his saddle-bags comprised all his baggage, and the world was before
+him “where to choose his place of rest.” The lane wound at length into
+the main road, and just as he came upon it he fell in with a gay party
+of equestrians.
+
+Foremost of its cavalcade rode a lady in a dark green habit, mounted
+on a thoroughbred English horse, which she managed with so easy a grace
+that Maltravers halted in involuntary admiration. He himself was a
+consummate horseman, and he had the quick eye of sympathy for those who
+shared the accomplishment. He thought, as he gazed, that he had never
+seen but one woman whose air and mien on horseback were so full of
+that nameless elegance which skill and courage in any art naturally
+bestow--that woman was Valerie de Ventadour. Presently, to his great
+surprise, the lady advanced from her companions, neared Maltravers, and
+said, in a voice which he did not at first distinctly recognise--“Is it
+possible?--do I see Mr. Maltravers?”
+
+She paused a moment, and then threw aside her veil, and Ernest
+beheld--Madame de Ventadour! By this time a tall, thin gentleman had
+joined the Frenchwoman.
+
+“Has _madame_ met with an acquaintance?” said he; “and, if so, will she
+permit me to partake her pleasure?”
+
+The interruption seemed a relief to Valerie;--she smiled and coloured.
+
+“Let me introduce you to Mr. Maltravers. Mr. Maltravers, this is my
+host, Lord Doningdale.”
+
+The two gentlemen bowed, the rest of the cavalcade surrounded the
+trio, and Lord Doningdale, with a stately yet frank courtesy, invited
+Maltravers to return with the party to his house, which was about
+four miles distant. As may be supposed, Ernest readily accepted the
+invitation. The cavalcade proceeded, and Maltravers hastened to seek an
+explanation from Valerie. It was soon given. Madame de Ventadour had
+a younger sister, who had lately married a son of Lord Doningdale.
+The marriage had been solemnized in Paris, and Monsieur and Madame de
+Ventadour had been in England a week on a visit to the English peer.
+
+The _rencontre_ was so sudden and unexpected that neither recovered
+sufficient self-possession for fluent conversation. The explanation
+given, Valerie sank into a thoughtful silence, and Maltravers rode by
+her side equally taciturn, pondering on the strange chance which, after
+the lapse of years, had thrown them again together.
+
+Lord Doningdale, who at first lingered with his other visitors, now
+joined them, and Maltravers was struck with his high-bred manner, and a
+singular and somewhat elaborate polish in his emphasis and expression.
+They soon entered a noble park, which attested far more care and
+attention than are usually bestowed upon those demesnes, so peculiarly
+English. Young plantations everywhere contrasted the venerable
+groves--new cottages of picturesque design adorned the outskirts--and
+obelisks and columns, copied from the antique, and evidently of recent
+workmanship, gleamed upon them as they neared the house--a large pile,
+in which the fashion of Queen Anne’s day had been altered into the
+French roofs and windows of the architecture of the Tuileries. “You
+reside much in the country, I am sure, my lord,” said Maltravers.
+
+“Yes,” replied Lord Doningdale, with a pensive air, “this place is
+greatly endeared to me. Here his Majesty Louis XVIII., when in England,
+honoured me with an annual visit. In compliment to him, I sought to
+model my poor mansion into an humble likeness of his own palace, so
+that he might as little as possible miss the rights he had lost. His
+own rooms were furnished exactly like those he had occupied at the
+Tuileries. Yes, the place is endeared to me--I think of the old
+times with pride. It is something to have sheltered a Bourbon in his
+misfortunes.”
+
+“It cost _milord_ a vast sum to make these alterations,” said Madame de
+Ventadour, glancing archly at Maltravers.
+
+“Ah, yes,” said the old lord; and his face, lately elated, became
+overcast--“nearly three hundred thousand pounds: but what then?--_‘Les
+souvenirs, madame, sont sans prix_!’”
+
+“Have you visited Paris since the restoration, Lord Doningdale,” asked
+Maltravers.
+
+His lordship looked at him sharply, and then turned his eye to Madame de
+Ventadour.
+
+“Nay,” said Valerie; laughing, “I did not dictate the question.”
+
+“Yes,” said Lord Doningdale, “I have been at Paris.”
+
+“His Majesty must have been delighted to return your lordship’s
+hospitality.”
+
+Lord Doningdale looked a little embarrassed, and made no reply, but put
+his horse into a canter.
+
+“You have galled our host,” said Valerie, smiling. “Louis XVIII. and his
+friends lived here as long as they pleased, and as sumptuously as
+they could; their visits half ruined the owner, who is the model of a
+_gentilhomme_ and _preux chevalier_. He went to Paris to witness
+their triumph; he expected, I fancy, the order of the St. Esprit. Lord
+Doningdale has royal blood in his veins. His Majesty asked him once
+to dinner, and, when he took leave, said to him, ‘We are happy, Lord
+Doningdale, to have thus requited our obligations to your lordship.’
+Lord Doningdale went back in dudgeon, yet he still boasts of his
+_souvenirs_, poor man.”
+
+“Princes are not grateful, neither are republics,” said Maltravers.
+
+“Ah, who is grateful,” rejoined Valerie, “except a dog and a woman?”
+
+Maltravers found himself ushered into a vast dressing-room, and was
+informed, by a French valet, that in the country Lord Doningdale dined
+at six--the first bell would ring in a few minutes. While the valet was
+speaking, Lord Doningdale himself entered the room. His lordship had
+learned, in the meanwhile, that Maltravers was of the great and ancient
+commoner’s house whose honours were centred in his brother; and yet
+more, that he was the Mr. Maltravers whose writings every one talked of,
+whether for praise or abuse. Lord Doningdale had the two characteristics
+of a high-bred gentleman of the old school--respect for birth and
+respect for talent; he was, therefore, more than ordinarily courteous to
+Ernest, and pressed him to stay some days with so much cordiality, that
+Maltravers could not but assent. His travelling toilet was scanty, but
+Maltravers thought little of dress.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+ “It is the soul that sees. The outward eyes
+  Present the object, but the mind descries;
+  And thence delight, disgust, or cool indifference rise.
+   “CRABBE.
+
+WHEN Maltravers entered the enormous saloon, hung with damask, and
+decorated with the ponderous enrichments and furniture of the time
+of Louis XIV. (that most showy and barbarous of all tastes, which has
+nothing in it of the graceful, nothing of the picturesque, and which,
+nowadays, people who should know better imitate with a ludicrous
+servility), he found sixteen persons assembled. His host stepped up from
+a circle which surrounded him, and formally presented his new visitor
+to the rest. He was struck with the likeness which the sister of
+Valerie bore to Valerie herself; but it was a sobered and chastened
+likeness--less handsome, less impressive. Mrs. George Herbert--such was
+the name she now owned--was a pretty, shrinking, timid girl, fond of her
+husband, and mightily awed by her father-in-law. Maltravers sat by her,
+and drew her into conversation. He could not help pitying the poor lady,
+when he found she was to live altogether at Doningdale Park--remote
+from all the friends and habits of her childhood--alone, so far as the
+affections were concerned, with a young husband, who was passionately
+fond of field-sports, and who, from the few words Ernest exchanged with
+him, seemed to have only three ideas--his dogs, his horses, and his
+wife. Alas! the last would soon be the least in importance. It is a
+sad position--that of a lively young Frenchwoman entombed in an
+English country-house! Marriages with foreigners are seldom fortunate
+experiments. But Ernest’s attention was soon diverted from the sister by
+the entrance of Valerie herself, leaning on her husband’s arm. Hitherto
+he had not very minutely observed what change time had effected in
+her--perhaps he was half afraid. He now gazed at her with curious
+interest. Valerie was still extremely handsome, but her face had grown
+sharper, her form thinner and more angular; there was something in her
+eye and lip, discontented, restless, almost querulous:--such is the too
+common expression in the face of those born to love, and condemned to
+be indifferent. The little sister was more to be envied of the two--come
+what may, she loved her husband, such as he was, and her heart might
+ache, but it was not with a void.
+
+Monsieur de Ventadour soon shuffled up to Maltravers--his nose longer
+than ever.
+
+“Hein--hein--how d’ye do--how d’ye do?--charmed to see you--saw madame
+before me--hein--hein--I suspect--I suspect--”
+
+“Mr. Maltravers, will you give Madame de Ventadour your arm?” said Lord
+Doningdale, as he stalked on to the dining-room with a duchess on his
+own.
+
+“And you have left Naples,” said Maltravers: “left it for good?”
+
+“We do not think of returning.”
+
+“It was a charming place--how I loved it!--how well I remember it!”
+ Ernest spoke calmly--it was but a general remark.
+
+Valerie sighed gently.
+
+During dinner, the conversation between Maltravers and Madame de
+Ventadour was vague and embarrassed. Ernest was no longer in love with
+her--he had outgrown that youthful fancy. She had exercised influence
+over him--the new influences that he had created had chased away her
+image. Such is life. Long absences extinguish all the false lights,
+though not the true ones. The lamps are dead in the banquet-room of
+yesterday; but a thousand years hence, and the stars we look on to-night
+will burn as brightly. Maltravers was no longer in love with Valerie.
+But Valerie--ah, perhaps _hers_ had been true love!
+
+Maltravers was surprised when he came to examine the state of his own
+feelings--he was surprised to find that his pulse did not beat quicker
+at the touch of one whose very glance had once thrilled him to the
+soul--he was surprised, but rejoiced. He was no longer anxious to seek,
+but to shun excitement, and he was a better and a higher being than he
+had been on the shores of Naples.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+ “Whence that low voice, a whisper from the heart,
+  That told of days long past?”--WORDSWORTH.
+
+ERNEST stayed several days at Lord Doningdale’s, and every day he rode
+out with Valerie, but it was with a large party; and every evening he
+conversed with her, but the whole world might have overheard what they
+said. In fact, the sympathy that had once existed between the young
+dreamer and the proud, discontented woman had in much passed away.
+Awakened to vast and grand objects, Maltravers was a dreamer no more.
+Inured to the life of trifles she had once loathed, Valerie had settled
+down into the usages and thoughts of the common world--she had no longer
+the superiority of earthly wisdom over Maltravers, and his romance was
+sobered in its eloquence, and her ear dulled to its tone. Still Ernest
+felt a deep interest in her, and still she seemed to feel a sensitive
+pride in his career.
+
+One evening Maltravers had joined a circle in which Madame de Ventadour,
+with more than her usual animation, presided--and to which, in her
+pretty, womanly, and thoroughly French way, she was lightly laying down
+the law on a hundred subjects--Philosophy, Poetry, Sevres china, and the
+balance of power in Europe. Ernest listened to her, delighted, but not
+enchanted. Yet Valerie was not natural that night--she was speaking from
+forced spirits.
+
+“Well,” said Madame de Ventadour at last, tired, perhaps of the part she
+had been playing, and bringing to a sudden close an animated description
+of the then French court--“well, see now if we ought not to be ashamed
+of ourselves--our talk has positively interrupted the music. Did you see
+Lord Doningdale stop it with a bow to me, as much as to say, with his
+courtly reproof, ‘It shall not disturb you, madam’? I will no longer be
+accessory to your crime of bad taste!”
+
+With this the Frenchwoman rose, and, gliding through the circle, retired
+to the further end of the room. Ernest followed her with his eyes.
+Suddenly she beckoned to him, and he approached and seated himself by
+her side.
+
+“Mr. Maltravers,” said Valerie, then, with great sweetness in her
+voice,--“I have not yet expressed to you the delight I have felt from
+your genius. In absence you have suffered me to converse with you--your
+books have been to me dear friends; as we shall soon part again, let me
+now tell you of this, frankly and without compliment.”
+
+This paved the way to a conversation that approached more on the
+precincts of the past than any they had yet known. But Ernest was
+guarded; and Valerie watched his words and looks with an interest she
+could not conceal--an interest that partook of disappointment.
+
+“It is an excitement,” said Valerie, “to climb a mountain, though it
+fatigue; and though the clouds may even deny us a prospect from its
+summit--it is an excitement that gives a very universal pleasure, and
+that seems almost as if it were the result of a common human instinct
+which makes us desire to rise--to get above the ordinary thoroughfares
+and level of life. Some such pleasure you must have in intellectual
+ambition, in which the mind is the upward traveller.”
+
+“It is not the _ambition_ that pleases,” replied Maltravers, “it is the
+following a path congenial to our tastes, and made dear to us in a short
+time by habit. The moments in which we look beyond our work, and fancy
+ourselves seated beneath the Everlasting Laurel, are few. It is the work
+itself, whether of action or literature, that interests and excites
+us. And at length the dryness of toil takes the familiar sweetness of
+custom. But in intellectual labour there is another charm--we become
+more intimate with our own nature. The heart and the soul grow friends,
+as it were, and the affections and the aspirations unite. Thus, we
+are never without society--we are never alone; all that we have read,
+learned and discovered, is company to us. This is pleasant,” added
+Maltravers, “to those who have no clear connections in the world
+without.”
+
+“And is that your case?” asked Valerie, with a timid smile.
+
+“Alas, yes! and since I conquered one affection,--Madame de Ventadour, I
+almost think I have outlived the capacity of loving. I believe that when
+we cultivate very largely the reason or the imagination, we blunt, to
+a certain extent, our young susceptibilities to the fair impressions
+of real life. From ‘idleness,’ says the old Roman poet, ‘Love feeds his
+torch.’”
+
+“You are too young to talk thus.”
+
+“I speak as I feel.”
+
+Valerie said no more. Shortly afterwards Lord Doningdale approached
+them, and proposed that they should make an excursion the next day to
+see the ruins of an old abbey, some few miles distant.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+ “If I should meet thee
+  After long years,
+  How shall I greet thee?”--BYRON.
+
+IT was a smaller party than usual the next day, consisting only of
+Lord Doningdale, his son George Herbert, Valerie and Ernest. They were
+returning from the ruins, and the sun, now gradually approaching the
+west, threw its slant rays over the gardens and houses of a small,
+picturesque town, or, perhaps, rather village, on the high North Road.
+It is one of the prettiest places in England, that town or village,
+and boasts an excellent old-fashioned inn, with a large and quaint
+pleasure-garden. It was through the long and straggling street that our
+little party slowly rode, when the sky became suddenly overcast, and, a
+few large hailstones falling, gave notice of an approaching storm.
+
+“I told you we should not get safely through the day,” said George
+Herbert. “Now we are in for it.”
+
+“George, that is a vulgar expression,” said Lord Doningdale, buttoning
+up his coat. While he spoke, a vivid flash of lightning darted across
+their very path, and the sky grew darker and darker.
+
+“We may as well rest at the inn,” said Maltravers: “the storm is coming
+on apace, and Madame de Ventadour--”
+
+“You are right,” interrupted Lord Doningdale; and he put his horse into
+a canter.
+
+They were soon at the door of the old hotel. Bells rang dogs
+barked--hostlers ran. A plain, dark, travelling post-chariot was before
+the inn-door; and, roused perhaps by the noise below, a lady in the
+“first-floor front, No. 2,” came to the window. This lady owned the
+travelling-carriage, and was at this time alone in that apartment. As
+she looked carelessly at the party, her eyes rested on one form--she
+turned pale, uttered a faint cry, and fell senseless on the floor.
+
+Meanwhile, Lord Doningdale and his guests were shown into the room next
+to that tenanted by the lady. Properly speaking, both the rooms made
+one long apartment for balls and county meetings, and the division was
+formed by a thin partition, removable at pleasure. The hail now came on
+fast and heavy, the trees groaned, the thunder roared; and in the large,
+dreary room there was a palpable and oppressive sense of coldness and
+discomfort. Valerie shivered--a fire was lighted--and the Frenchwoman
+drew near to it.
+
+“You are wet, my dear lady,” said Lord Doningdale. “You should take off
+that close habit, and have it dried.”
+
+“Oh, no; what matters it?” said Valerie bitterly, and almost rudely.
+
+“It matters everything,” said Ernest; “pray be ruled.”
+
+“And do you care for me?” murmured Valerie.
+
+“Can you ask that question?” replied Ernest, in the same tone, and with
+affectionate and friendly warmth.
+
+Meanwhile, the good old lord had summoned the chambermaid, and, with the
+kindly imperiousness of a father, made Valerie quit the room. The three
+gentlemen, left together, talked of the storm, wondered how long it
+would last, and debated the propriety of sending to Doningdale for the
+carriage. While they spoke, the hail suddenly ceased, though clouds in
+the distant horizon were bearing heavily up to renew the charge. George
+Herbert, who was the most impatient of mortals, especially of rainy
+weather in a strange place, seized the occasion, and insisted on riding
+to Doningdale, and sending back the carriage.
+
+“Surely a groom would do as well, George,” said the father.
+
+“My dear father, no; I should envy the rogue too much. I am bored to
+death here. Marie will be frightened about us. Brown Bess will take me
+back in twenty minutes. I am a hardy fellow, you know. Good-bye.”
+
+Away darted the young sportsman, and in two minutes they saw him spur
+gaily from the inn-door.
+
+“It is very odd that _I_ should have such a son,” said Lord Doningdale,
+musingly,--“a son who cannot amuse himself indoors for two minutes
+together. I took great pains with his education, too. Strange that
+people should weary so much of themselves that they cannot brave the
+prospect of a few minutes passed in reflection--that a shower and the
+resources of their own thoughts are evils so galling--very strange
+indeed. But it is a confounded climate this, certainly. I wonder when it
+will clear up.”
+
+Thus muttering, Lord Doningdale walked, or rather marched, to and fro
+the room, with his hands in his coat pockets, and his whip sticking
+perpendicularly out of the right one. Just at this moment the waiter
+came to announce that his lordship’s groom was without, and desired much
+to see him. Lord Doningdale had then the pleasure of learning that his
+favourite grey hackney, which he had ridden, winter and summer, for
+fifteen years, was taken with shivers, and, as the groom expressed it,
+seemed to have “the colic in its bowels!”
+
+Lord Doningdale turned pale, and hurried to the stables without saying a
+word.
+
+Maltravers, who, plunged in thought, had not overheard the low and brief
+conference between master and groom, remained alone, seated by the fire,
+his head buried in his bosom, and his arms folded.
+
+Meanwhile, the lady, who occupied the adjoining chamber, had recovered
+slowly from her swoon. She put both hands to her temples, as if trying
+to recollect her thoughts. Hers was a fair, innocent, almost childish
+face; and now, as a smile shot across it, there was something so sweet
+and touching in the gladness it shed over that countenance, that you
+could not have seen it without strong and almost painful interest.
+For it was the gladness of a person who has known sorrow. Suddenly she
+started up, and said: “No, then! I do not dream. He is come back--he is
+here--all will be well again! Ha! it is his voice. Oh, bless him, it is
+_his_ voice!” She paused, her finger on her lip, her face bent down. A
+low and indistinct sound of voices reached her straining ear through the
+thin door that divided her from Maltravers. She listened intently, but
+she could not overhear the import. Her heart beat violently. “He is not
+alone!” she murmured, mournfully. “I will wait till the sound ceases,
+and then I will venture in!”
+
+And what was the conversation carried on in that chamber? We must return
+to Ernest. He was sitting in the same thoughtful posture when Madame de
+Ventadour returned.
+
+The Frenchwoman coloured when she found herself alone with Ernest, and
+Ernest himself was not at his ease.
+
+“Herbert has gone home to order the carriage, and Lord Doningdale has
+disappeared, I scarce know whither. You do not, I trust, feel the worse
+for the rain?”
+
+“No,” said Valerie.
+
+“Shall you have any commands in London?” asked Maltravers; “I return to
+town to-morrow.”
+
+“So soon!” and Valerie sighed. “Ah!” she added, after a pause, “we
+shall not meet again for years, perhaps. Monsieur de Ventadour is to
+be appointed ambassador to the Court and so--and so--. Well, it is no
+matter. What has become of the friendship we once swore to each other?”
+
+“It is here,” said Maltravers, laying his hand on his heart. “Here, at
+least, lies the half of that friendship which was my charge; and more
+than friendship, Valerie de Ventadour--respect--admiration--gratitude.
+At a time of life when passion and fancy, most strong, might have left
+me an idle and worthless voluptuary, you convinced me that the world has
+virtue, and that woman is too noble to be our toy--the idol of to-day,
+the victim of to-morrow. Your influence, Valerie, left me a more
+thoughtful man--I hope a better one.”
+
+“Oh!” said Madame de Ventadour, strongly affected; “I bless you for what
+you tell me: you cannot know--you cannot guess how sweet it is to me.
+Now I recognise you once more. What--what did my resolution cost me? Now
+I am repaid!”
+
+Ernest was moved by her emotion, and by his own remembrances; he took
+her hand, and pressing it with frank and respectful tenderness--“I did
+not think, Valerie,” said he, “when I reviewed the past, I did not think
+that you loved me--I was not vain enough for that; but, if so, how
+much is your character raised in my eyes--how provident, how wise your
+virtue! Happier and better for both, our present feelings, each to each,
+than if we had indulged a brief and guilty dream of passion, at war with
+all that leaves passion without remorse, and bliss without alloy. Now--”
+
+“Now,” interrupted Valerie, quickly, and fixing on him her dark
+eyes--“now you love me no longer! Yet it is better so. Well, I will go
+back to my cold and cheerless state of life, and forget once more that
+Heaven endowed me with a heart!”
+
+“Ah, Valerie! esteemed, revered, still beloved, not indeed with the
+fires of old, but with a deep, undying, and holy tenderness, speak not
+thus to me. Let me not believe you unhappy; let me think that, wise,
+sagacious, brilliant as you are, you have employed your gifts to
+reconcile yourself to a common lot. Still let me look up to you when I
+would despise the circles in which you live, and say: ‘On that pedestal
+an altar is yet placed, to which the heart may bring the offerings of
+the soul.’”
+
+“It is in vain--in vain that I struggle,” said Valerie, half-choked
+with emotion, and clasping her hands passionately. “Ernest, I love you
+still--I am wretched to think you love me no more: I would give you
+nothing--yet I exact all; my youth is going--my beauty dimmed--my very
+intellect is dulled by the life I lead; and yet I ask from you that
+which your young heart once felt for me. Despise me, Maltravers, I am
+not what I seemed--I am a hypocrite--despise me.”
+
+“No,” said Ernest, again possessing himself of her hand, and falling on
+his knee by her side. “No, never-to-be-forgotten, ever-to-be-honoured
+Valerie, hear me.” As he spoke, he kissed the hand he held; with the
+other, Valerie covered her face and wept bitterly, but in silence.
+Ernest paused till the burst of her feelings had subsided, her hand
+still in his--still warmed by his kisses--kisses as pure as cavalier
+ever impressed on the hand of his queen.
+
+At this time, the door communicating with the next room gently opened.
+A fair form--a form fairer and younger than that of Valerie de
+Ventadour--entered the apartment; the silence had deceived her--she
+believed that Maltravers was alone. She had entered with her heart
+upon her lips; love, sanguine, hopeful love, in every vein, in every
+thought--she had entered dreaming that across that threshold life would
+dawn upon her afresh--that all would be once more as it had been,
+when the common air was rapture. Thus she entered; and now she
+stood spell-bound, terror-stricken, pale as death--life turned to
+stone--youth--hope--bliss were for ever over to her! Ernest kneeling to
+another was all she saw! For this had she been faithful and true amidst
+storm and desolation; for this had she hoped--dreamed--lived. They did
+not note her; she was unseen--unheard. And Ernest, who would have gone
+barefoot to the end of the earth to find her, was in the very room with
+her, and knew it not!
+
+“Call me again _beloved_!” said Valerie, very softly.
+
+“Beloved Valerie, hear me.”
+
+These words were enough for the listener; she turned noiselessly away:
+humble as that heart was, it was proud. The door closed on her--she had
+obtained the wish of her whole being--Heaven had heard her prayer--she
+had once more seen the lover of her youth; and thenceforth all was night
+and darkness to her. What matter what became of her? One moment, what
+an effect it produces upon years!--ONE MOMENT!--virtue, crime, glory,
+shame, woe, rapture, rest upon moments! Death itself is but a moment,
+yet Eternity is its successor!
+
+“Hear me!” continued Ernest, unconscious of what had passed--“hear me;
+let us be what human nature and worldly forms seldom allow those of
+opposite sexes to be--friends to each other, and to virtue also--friends
+through time and absence--friends through all the vicissitudes of
+life--friends on whose affection shame and remorse never cast a
+shade--friends who are to meet hereafter! Oh! there is no attachment so
+true, no tie so holy, as that which is founded on the old chivalry of
+loyalty and honour; and which is what love would be, if the heart and
+the soul were unadulterated by clay.”
+
+There was in Ernest’s countenance an expression so noble, in his voice
+a tone so thrilling, that Valerie was brought back at once to the
+nature which a momentary weakness had subdued. She looked at him with
+an admiring and grateful gaze, and then said, in a calm but low voice,
+“Ernest, I understand you; yes, your friendship is dearer to me than
+love.”
+
+At this time they heard the voice of Lord Doningdale on the stairs.
+Valerie turned away. Maltravers, as he rose, extended his hand; she
+pressed it warmly, and the spell was broken, the temptation conquered,
+the ordeal passed. While Lord Doningdale entered the room, the carriage,
+with Herbert in it, drove to the door. In a few minutes the little
+party were within the vehicle. As they drove away, the hostlers were
+harnessing the horses to the dark green travelling-carriage. From the
+window, a sad and straining eye gazed upon the gayer equipage of the
+peer--that eye which Maltravers would have given his whole fortune to
+meet again. But he did not look up; and Alice Darvil turned away, and
+her fate was fixed!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+ “Strange fits of passion I have known.
+   And I will dare to tell.”--WORDSWORTH.
+
+ “* * * * * The food of hope
+  Is meditated action.”--WORDSWORTH.
+
+MALTRAVERS left Doningdale the next day. He had no further conversation
+with Valerie; but when he took leave of her, she placed in his hand a
+letter, which he read as he rode slowly through the beech avenues of the
+park. Translated, it ran thus:
+
+
+“Others would despise me for the weakness I showed--but you will not!
+It is the sole weakness of a life. None can know what I have passed
+through--what hours of dejection and gloom. I, whom so many envy! Better
+to have been a peasant girl, with love, than a queen whose life is but
+a dull mechanism. You, Maltravers, I never forgot in absence; and your
+image made yet more wearisome and trite the things around me. Years
+passed, and your name was suddenly on men’s lips. I heard of you
+wherever I went--I could not shut you from me. Your fame was as if you
+were conversing by my side. We met at last, suddenly and unexpectedly.
+I saw that you loved me no more, and that thought conquered all my
+resolves: anguish subdues the nerves of the mind as sickness those of
+the body. And thus I forgot, and humbled, and might have undone myself.
+Juster and better thoughts are once more awakened within me, and when
+we meet again I shall be worthy of your respect. I see how dangerous are
+that luxury of thought, that sin of discontent which I indulged. I
+go back to life, resolved to vanquish all that can interfere with its
+claims and duties. Heaven guide and preserve you, Ernest. Think of me
+as one whom you will not blush to have loved--whom you will not blush
+hereafter to present to your wife. With so much that is soft, as well as
+great within you, you were not formed like me--to be alone.
+
+   “FAREWELL!”
+
+
+Maltravers read, and re-read this letter; and when he reached his home,
+he placed it carefully amongst the things he most valued. A lock of
+Alice’s hair lay beside it--he did not think that either was dishonoured
+by the contact.
+
+With an effort, he turned himself once more to those stern yet high
+connections which literature makes with real life. Perhaps there was a
+certain restlessness in his heart which induced him ever to occupy his
+mind. That was one of the busiest years of his life--the one in which he
+did most to sharpen jealousy and confirm fame.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+ “In effect he entered my apartment.”--_Gil Blas_.
+
+ “‘I am surprised,’ said he, ‘at the caprice of Fortune,
+  who sometimes delights in loading an execrable author
+  with favours, whilst she leaves good writers to perish
+  for want.’”--_Gil Blas_.
+
+IT was just twelve months after his last interview with Valerie, and
+Madame de Ventadour had long since quitted England, when one morning, as
+Maltravers sat alone in his study, Castruccio Cesarini was announced.
+
+“Ah, my dear Castruccio, how are you?” cried Maltravers, eagerly, as the
+opening door presented the form of the Italian.
+
+“Sir,” said Castruccio, with great stiffness, and speaking in French,
+which was his wont when he meant to be distant--“sir, I do not come
+to renew our former acquaintance--you are a great man [here a bitter
+sneer], I an obscure one [here Castruccio drew himself up]--I only come
+to discharge a debt to you which I find I have incurred.”
+
+“What tone is this, Castruccio; and what debt do you speak of?”
+
+“On my arrival in town yesterday,” said the poet solemnly, “I went to
+the man whom you deputed some years since to publish my little volume,
+to demand an account of its success; and I found that it had cost one
+hundred and twenty pounds, deducting the sale of forty-nine copies which
+had been sold. _Your_ books sell some thousands, I am told. It is
+well contrived--mine fell still-born, no pains were taken with it--no
+matter--[a wave of the hand]. You discharged this debt, I repay you:
+there is a cheque for the money. Sir, I have done! I wish you a good
+day, and health to enjoy _your_ reputation.”
+
+“Why, Cesarini, this is folly.”
+
+“Sir--”
+
+“Yes, it is folly; for there is no folly equal to that of throwing away
+friendship in a world where friendship is so rare. You insinuate that I
+am to blame for any neglect which your work experienced. Your publisher
+can tell you that I was more anxious about your book than I have ever
+been about my own.”
+
+“And the proof is that forty-nine copies were sold!”
+
+“Sit down, Castruccio; sit down, and listen to reason;” and Maltravers
+proceeded to explain, and soothe, and console. He reminded the poor
+poet that his verses were written in a foreign tongue--that even English
+poets of great fame enjoyed but a limited sale for their works--that it
+was impossible to make the avaricious public purchase what the stupid
+public would not take an interest in--in short, he used all those
+arguments which naturally suggested themselves as best calculated to
+convince and soften Castruccio; and he did this with so much evident
+sympathy and kindness, that at length the Italian could no longer
+justify his own resentment. A reconciliation took place, sincere on the
+part of Maltravers, hollow on the part of Cesarini; for the disappointed
+author could not forgive the successful one.
+
+“And how long shall you stay in London?”
+
+“Some months.”
+
+“Send for your luggage, and be my guest.”
+
+“No; I have taken lodgings that suit me. I am formed for solitude.”
+
+“While you stay here, you will, however, go into the world.”
+
+“Yes, I have some letters of introduction, and I hear that the English
+can honour merit, even in an Italian.”
+
+“You hear the truth, and it will amuse you, at least, to see our eminent
+men. They will receive you most hospitably. Let me assist you as a
+cicerone.”
+
+“Oh, your _valuable_ time!”
+
+“Is at your disposal: but where are you going?”
+
+“It is Sunday, and I have had my curiosity excited to hear a celebrated
+preacher--Mr. ------, who they tell me, is now more talked of than _any
+author_ in London.”
+
+“They tell you truly--I will go with you--I myself have not yet heard
+him, but proposed to do so this very day.”
+
+“Are you not jealous of a man so much spoken of?”
+
+“Jealous!--why, I never set up for a popular preacher!--_ce n’est pas
+mon metier_.”
+
+“If I were a _successful_ author, I should be jealous if the
+dancing-dogs were talked of.”
+
+“No, my dear Cesarini, I am sure you would not. You are a little
+irritated at present by natural disappointment; but the man who has as
+much success as he deserves is never morbidly jealous, even of a rival
+in his own line. Want of success sours us; but a little sunshine smiles
+away the vapours. Come, we have no time to lose.”
+
+Maltravers took his hat, and the two young men bent their way to ------
+Chapel. Cesarini still retained the singular fashion of his dress,
+though it was now made of handsomer materials, and worn with more
+coxcombry and pretension. He had much improved in person--had been
+admired in Paris, and told that he looked like a man of genius--and,
+with his black ringlets flowing over his shoulders, his long moustache,
+his broad Spanish-shaped hat, and eccentric garb, he certainly did not
+look like other people. He smiled with contempt at the plain dress of
+his companion. “I see,” said he, “that you follow the fashion, and look
+as if you passed your life with _elegans_ instead of students. I wonder
+you condescend to such trifles as fashionably-shaped hats and coats.”
+
+“It would be worse trifling to set up for originality in hats and
+coats, at least in sober England. I was born a gentleman, and I dress my
+outward frame like others of my order. Because I am a writer, why should
+I affect to be different from other men?”
+
+“I see that you are not above the weakness of your countryman Congreve,”
+ said Cesarini, “who deemed it finer to be a gentleman than an author.”
+
+“I always thought that anecdote misconstrued. Congreve had a proper and
+manly pride, to my judgment, when he expressed a dislike to be visited
+merely as a raree-show.”
+
+“But is it policy to let the world see that an author is like other
+people? Would he not create a deeper personal interest if he showed
+that even in person alone he was unlike the herd? He ought to be seen
+seldom--not to stale his presence--and to resort to the arts that belong
+to the royalty of intellect as well as the royalty of birth.”
+
+“I dare say an author, by a little charlatanism of that nature, might be
+more talked of--might be more adored in the boarding-schools, and make a
+better picture in the exhibition. But I think, if his mind be manly,
+he would lose in self-respect at every quackery of the sort. And my
+philosophy is, that to respect oneself is worth all the fame in the
+world.”
+
+Cesarini sneered and shrugged his shoulders; it was quite evident that
+the two authors had no sympathy with each other.
+
+They arrived at last at the chapel, and with some difficulty procured
+seats.
+
+Presently the service began. The preacher was a man of unquestionable
+talent and fervid eloquence; but his theatrical arts, his affected
+dress, his artificial tones and gestures; and, above all, the fanatical
+mummeries which he introduced into the House of God, disgusted
+Maltravers, while they charmed, entranced, and awed Cesarini. The one
+saw a mountebank and impostor--the other recognised a profound artist
+and an inspired prophet.
+
+But while the discourse was drawing towards a close, while the preacher
+was in one of his most eloquent bursts--the ohs! and ahs! of which
+were the grand prelude to the pathetic peroration--the dim outline of a
+female form, in the distance, riveted the eyes and absorbed the thoughts
+of Maltravers. The chapel was darkened, though it was broad daylight;
+and the face of the person that attracted Ernest’s attention was
+concealed by her head-dress and veil. But that bend of the neck, so
+simply graceful, so humbly modest, recalled to his heart but one image.
+Every one has, perhaps, observed that there is a physiognomy (if the
+bull may be pardoned) of _form_ as well as face, which it rarely happens
+that two persons possess in common. And this, with most, is peculiarly
+marked in the turn of the head, the outline of the shoulders, and the
+ineffable something that characterises the postures of each individual
+in repose. The more intently he gazed, the more firmly Ernest
+was persuaded that he saw before him the long-lost, the
+never-to-be-forgotten mistress of his boyish days, and his first love.
+On one side of the lady in question sat an elderly gentleman, whose eyes
+were fixed upon the preacher; on the other, a beautiful little girl,
+with long fair ringlets, and that cast of features which, from its
+exquisite delicacy and expressive mildness, painters and poets call
+the “angelic.” These persons appeared to belong to the same party.
+Maltravers literally trembled, so great were his impatience and
+agitation. Yet still, the dress of the supposed likeness of Alice, the
+appearance of her companions, were so evidently above the ordinary rank,
+that Ernest scarcely ventured to yield to the suggestions of his own
+heart. Was it possible that the daughter of Luke Darvil, thrown upon
+the wide world, could have risen so far beyond her circumstances and
+station? At length the moment came when he might resolve his doubts--the
+discourse was concluded--the extemporaneous prayer was at an end--the
+congregation broke up, and Maltravers pushed his way, as well as he
+could, through the dense and serried crowd. But every moment some
+vexatious obstruction, in the shape of a fat gentleman or three
+close-wedged ladies, intercepted his progress. He lost sight of the
+party in question amidst the profusion of tall bonnets and waving
+plumes. He arrived at last, breathless and pale as death (so great was
+the struggle within him), at the door of the chapel. He arrived in time
+to see a plain carriage with servants in grey undress liveries, driving
+from the porch--and caught a glimpse, within the vehicle, of the golden
+ringlets of a child. He darted forward, he threw himself almost before
+the horses. The coachman drew in, and with an angry exclamation, very
+much like an oath, whipped his horses aside and went off. But that
+momentary pause sufficed.--“It is she--it is! O Heaven, it is Alice!”
+ murmured Maltravers. The whole place reeled before his eyes, and he
+clung, overpowered and unconscious, to a neighbouring lamp-post for
+support. But he recovered himself with an agonising effort, as the
+thought struck upon this heart that he was about to lose sight of her
+again for ever. And he rushed forward, like one frantic, in pursuit of
+the carriage. But there was a vast crowd of other carriages, besides
+stream upon stream of foot-passengers,--for the great and the gay
+resorted to that place of worship, as a fashionable excitement in a
+dull day. And after a weary and a dangerous chase, in which he had been
+nearly run over three times, Maltravers halted at last, exhausted and
+in despair. Every succeeding Sunday, for months, he went to the same
+chapel, but in vain; in vain, too, he resorted to every public haunt of
+dissipation and amusement. Alice Darvil he beheld no more!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+        “Tell me, sir,
+  Have you cast up your state, rated your land,
+  And find it able to endure the charge?”
+    _The Noble Gentleman_.
+
+By degrees, as Maltravers sobered down from the first shock of that
+unexpected meeting, and from the prolonged disappointment that followed
+it, he became sensible of a strange kind of happiness or contentment.
+Alice was not in poverty, she was not eating the unhallowed bread of
+vice, or earning the bitter wages of laborious penury. He saw her in
+reputable, nay, opulent circumstances. A dark nightmare, that had often,
+amidst the pleasures of youth, or the triumphs of literature, weighed
+upon his breast, was removed. He breathed more freely--he could sleep
+in peace. His conscience could no longer say to him, “She who slept upon
+thy bosom is a wanderer upon the face of the earth--exposed to every
+temptation, perishing perhaps for want.” That single sight of Alice
+had been like the apparition of the injured Dead conjured up at
+Heraclea--whose sight could pacify the aggressor and exorcise the
+spectres of remorse. He was reconciled with himself, and walked on to
+the Future with a bolder step and a statelier crest. Was she married to
+that staid and sober-looking personage whom he had beheld with her?
+was that child the offspring of their union? He almost hoped so--it was
+better to lose than to destroy her. Poor Alice! could she have dreamed,
+when she sat at his feet gazing up into his eyes, that a time would come
+when Maltravers would thank Heaven for the belief that she was happy
+with another?
+
+Ernest Maltravers now felt a new man: the relief of conscience operated
+on the efforts of his genius. A more buoyant and elastic spirit entered
+into them--they seemed to breathe as with a second youth.
+
+Meanwhile, Cesarini threw himself into the fashionable world, and to his
+own surprise was _feted_ and caressed. In fact, Castruccio was exactly
+the sort of person to be made a lion of. The letters of introduction
+that he had brought from Paris were addressed to those great personages
+in England between whom and personages equally great in France
+politics makes a bridge of connection. Cesarini appeared to them as an
+accomplished young man, brother-in-law to a distinguished member of the
+French Chamber. Maltravers, on the other hand, introduced him to the
+literary dilettanti, who admire all authors that are not rivals. The
+singular costume of Cesarini, which would have revolted persons in an
+Englishman, enchanted them in an Italian. He looked, they said, like
+a poet. Ladies like to have verses written to them, and Cesarini, who
+talked very little, made up for it by scribbling eternally. The young
+man’s head soon grew filled with comparisons between himself in London
+and Petrarch at Avignon. As he had always thought that fame was in the
+gift of lords and ladies, and had no idea of the multitude, he fancied
+himself already famous. And, since one of his strongest feelings was
+his jealousy of Maltravers, he was delighted at being told he was a
+much more interesting creature than that haughty personage, who wore
+his neckcloth like other people, and had not even those indispensable
+attributes of genius--black curls and a sneer. Fine society, which, as
+Madame de Stael well says, depraves the frivolous mind and braces the
+strong one, completed the ruin of all that was manly in Cesarini’s
+intellect. He soon learned to limit his desire of effect or distinction
+to gilded saloons; and his vanity contented itself upon the scraps and
+morsels from which the lion heart of true ambition turns in disdain.
+But this was not all. Cesarini was envious of the greater affluence
+of Maltravers. His own fortune was in a small capital of eight or nine
+thousand pounds: but, thrown in the midst of the wealthiest society in
+Europe, he could not bear to sacrifice a single claim upon its esteem.
+He began to talk of the satiety of wealth, and young ladies listened to
+him with remarkable interest when he did so--he obtained the reputation
+of riches--he was too vain not to be charmed with it. He endeavoured to
+maintain the claim by adopting the extravagant excesses of the day. He
+bought horses--he gave away jewels--he made love to a marchioness
+of forty-two, who was very kind to him and very fond of _ecarte_--he
+gambled--he was in the high road to destruction.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK VI.
+
+  Perchance you say that gold’s the arch-exceller,
+  And to be rich is sweet?--EURIP. _Ion._, line 641.
+
+  * * * ‘Tis not to be endured,
+  To yield our trodden path and turn aside,
+  Giving our place to knaves.--_Ibid._, line 648
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ “L’adresse et l’artifice out passe dans mon coeur;
+  Qu’ou a sous cet habit et d’esprit et de ruse.” *--REGNARD.
+
+* Subtility and craft have taken possession of my heart; but under this
+habit one exhibits both shrewdness and wit.
+
+IT was a fine morning in July, when a gentleman who had arrived in town
+the night before--after an absence from England of several years--walked
+slowly and musingly up the superb thoroughfare which connects the
+Regent’s park with St. James’s.
+
+He was a man, who, with great powers of mind, had wasted his youth in
+a wandering vagabond kind of life, but who had worn away the love of
+pleasure, and began to awaken to a sense of ambition.
+
+“It is astonishing how this city is improved,” said he to himself.
+“Everything gets on in this world with a little energy and bustle--and
+everybody as well as everything. My old cronies, fellows not half so
+clever as I am, are all doing well. There’s Tom Stevens, my very fag at
+Eton--snivelling little dog he was too!--just made under-secretary
+of state. Pearson, whose longs and shorts I always wrote, is now
+head-master to the human longs and shorts of a public school--editing
+Greek plays, and booked for a bishopric. Collier, I see by the papers,
+is leading his circuit--and Ernest Maltravers (but _he_ had some talent)
+has made a name in the world. Here am I, worth them all put together,
+who have done nothing but spend half my little fortune in spite of all
+my economy. Egad, this must have an end. I must look to the main chance;
+and yet, just when I want his help the most, my worthy uncle thinks fit
+to marry again. Humph--I’m too good for this world.”
+
+While thus musing, the soliloquist came in direct personal contact with
+a tall gentleman, who carried his head very high in the air, and did not
+appear to see that he had nearly thrown our abstracted philosopher off
+his legs.
+
+“Zounds, sir, what do you mean?” cried the latter.
+
+“I beg your par--” began the other, meekly, when his arm was seized,
+and the injured man exclaimed, “Bless me, sir, is it indeed _you_ whom I
+see?”
+
+“Ha!--Lumley?”
+
+“The same; and how fares it, any dear uncle? I did not know you were in
+London. I only arrived last night. How well you are looking!”
+
+“Why, yes, Heaven be praised, I am pretty well.”
+
+“And happy in your new ties? You must present me to Mrs. Templeton.”
+
+“Ehem,” said Mr. Templeton, clearing his throat, and with a slight but
+embarrassed smile, “I never thought I should marry again.”
+
+“_L’homme propose et Dieu dispose_,” observed Lumley Ferrers; for it was
+he.
+
+“Gently, my dear nephew,” replied Mr. Templeton, gravely; “those phrases
+are somewhat sacrilegious; I am an old-fashioned person, you know.”
+
+“Ten thousand apologies.”
+
+“_One_ apology will suffice; these hyperboles of phrase are almost
+sinful.”
+
+“Confounded old prig!” thought Ferrers; but he bowed sanctimoniously.
+
+“My dear uncle, I have been a wild fellow in my day; but with years
+comes reflection; and under your guidance, if I may hope for it, I trust
+to grow a wiser and a better man.”
+
+“It is well, Lumley,” returned the uncle, “and I am very glad to see
+you returned to your own country. Will you dine with me to-morrow? I am
+living near Fulham. You had better bring your carpet-bag, and stay with
+me some days; you will be heartily welcome, especially if you can shift
+without a foreign servant. I have a great compassion for papists, but--”
+
+“Oh, my dear uncle, do not fear; I am not rich enough to have a foreign
+servant, and have not travelled over three-quarters of the globe without
+learning that it is possible to dispense with a valet.”
+
+“As to being rich enough,” observed Mr. Templeton, with a calculating
+air, “seven hundred and ninety-five pounds ten shillings a year will
+allow a man to keep two servants, if he pleases; but I am glad to find
+you economical at all events. We meet to-morrow, then, at six o’clock.”
+
+“_Au revoir_--I mean, God bless you.
+
+“Tiresome old gentleman that,” muttered Ferrers, “and not so cordial as
+formerly; perhaps his wife is _enceinte_, and he is going to do me
+the injustice of having another heir. I must look to this; for without
+riches, I had better go back and live _au cinquieme_ at Paris.”
+
+With this conclusion, Lumley quickened his pace, and soon arrived at
+Seamore Place. In a few moments more he was in the library well stored
+with books, and decorated with marble busts and images from the studios
+of Canova and Thorwaldsen.
+
+“My master, sir, will be down immediately,” said the servant who
+admitted him; and Ferrers threw himself on a sofa, and contemplated the
+apartment with an air half envious and half cynical.
+
+Presently the door opened, and “My dear Ferrers!” “Well, _mon cher_, how
+are you?” were the salutations hastily exchanged.
+
+After the first sentences of inquiry, gratulation, and welcome, had
+cleared the way for more general conversation,--“Well, Maltravers,” said
+Ferrers, “so here we are together again, and after a lapse of so many
+years! both older, certainly; and you, I suppose, wiser. At all events,
+people think you so; and that’s all that’s important in the question.
+Why, man, you are looking as young as ever, only a little paler and
+thinner; but look at me--I am not very _much_ past thirty, and I am
+almost an old man; bald at the temples, crows’ feet, too, eh! Idleness
+ages one damnably.”
+
+“Pooh, Lumley, I never saw you look better. And are you really come to
+settle in England?”
+
+“Yes, if I can afford it. But at my age, and after having seen so much,
+the life of an idle, obscure _garcon_ does not content me. I feel that
+the world’s opinion, which I used to despise, is growing necessary to
+me. I want to be something. What can I be? Don’t look alarmed, I won’t
+rival you. I dare say literary reputation is a fine thing, but I
+desire some distinction more substantial and worldly. You know your own
+country; give me a map of the roads to Power.”
+
+“To Power! Oh, nothing but law, politics, and riches.”
+
+“For law I am too old; politics, perhaps, might suit me; but riches, my
+dear Ernest--ah, how I long for a good account with my banker!”
+
+“Well, patience and hope. Are you are not a rich uncle’s heir?”
+
+“I don’t know,” said Ferrers, very dolorously; “the old gentleman has
+married again, and may have a family.”
+
+“Married!--to whom?”
+
+“A widow, I hear; I know nothing more, except that she has a child
+already. So you see she has got into a cursed way of having children.
+And perhaps, by the time I’m forty, I shall see a whole covey of cherubs
+flying away with the great Templeton property!”
+
+“Ha, ha; your despair sharpens your wit, Lumley; but why not take a leaf
+out of your uncle’s book, and marry yourself?”
+
+“So I will when I can find an heiress. If that is what you meant to
+say--it is a more sensible suggestion than any I could have supposed to
+come from a man who writes books, especially poetry: and your advice is
+not to be despised. For rich I will be; and as the fathers (I don’t
+mean of the Church, but in Horace) told the rising generation, the first
+thing is to resolve to be rich, it is only the second thing to consider
+how.”
+
+“Meanwhile, Ferrers, you will be my guest.”
+
+“I’ll dine with you to-day; but to-morrow I am off to Fulham, to be
+introduced to my aunt. Can’t you fancy her?--grey _gros-de-Naples_ gown:
+gold chain with an eyeglass; rather fat; two pugs, and a parrot! ‘Start
+not, this is fancy’s sketch!’ I have not yet seen the respectable
+relative with my physical optics. What shall we have for dinner? Let
+me choose, you were always a bad caterer.” As Ferrers thus rattled on,
+Maltravers felt himself growing younger: old times and old adventures
+crowded fast upon him; and the two friends spent a most agreeable day
+together. It was only the next morning that Maltravers, in thinking
+over the various conversations that had passed between them, was forced
+reluctantly to acknowledge that the inert selfishness of Lumley Ferrers
+seemed now to have hardened into a resolute and systematic want of
+principle, which might, perhaps, make him a dangerous and designing man,
+if urged by circumstances into action.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+ “_Dauph._ Sir, I must speak to you. I have been long your
+  despised kinsman.
+
+ “_Morose._ Oh, what thou wilt, nephew.”--EPICENE.
+
+ “Her silence is dowry eno’--exceedingly soft spoken; thrifty
+  of her speech, that spends but six words a day.”--_Ibid._
+
+THE coach dropped Mr. Ferrers at the gate of a villa about three miles
+from town. The lodge-keeper charged himself with the carpet-bag, and
+Ferrers strolled, with his hands behind him (it was his favourite
+mode of disposing of them), through the beautiful and elaborate
+pleasure-grounds.
+
+“A very nice, snug little box (jointure-house, I suppose)! I would not
+grudge that, I’m sure, if I had but the rest. But here, I suspect, comes
+madam’s first specimen of the art of having a family.” This last thought
+was extracted from Mr. Ferrers’s contemplative brain by a lovely little
+girl, who came running up to him, fearless and spoilt as she was; and,
+after indulging a tolerable stare, exclaimed, “Are you come to see papa,
+sir?”
+
+“Papa!--the deuce!”--thought Lumley; “and who is papa, my dear?”
+
+“Why, mamma’s husband. He is not my papa by rights.”
+
+“Certainly not, my love; not by rights--I comprehend.”
+
+“Eh!”
+
+“Yes, I am going to see your papa by wrongs--Mr. Templeton.”
+
+“Oh, this way, then.”
+
+“You are very fond of Mr. Templeton, my little angel.”
+
+“To be sure I am. You have not seen the rocking-horse he is going to
+give me.”
+
+“Not yet, sweet child! And how is mamma?”
+
+“Oh, poor, dear mamma,” said the child, with a sudden change of voice,
+and tears in her eyes. “Ah, she is not well!”
+
+“In the family way, to a dead certainty!” muttered Ferrers with a groan:
+“but here is my uncle. Horrid name! Uncles were always wicked fellows.
+Richard the Third and the man who did something or other to the babes in
+the wood were a joke to my hard-hearted old relation, who has robbed me
+with a widow! The lustful, liquorish old--My _dear_ sir, I’m so glad to
+see you!”
+
+Mr. Templeton, who was a man very cold in his manners, and always either
+looked over people’s heads or down upon the ground, just touched his
+nephew’s outstretched hand, and telling him he was welcome, observed
+that it was a very fine afternoon.
+
+“Very, indeed; sweet place this; you see, by the way, that I have
+already made acquaintance with my fair cousin-in-law. She is very
+pretty.”
+
+“I really think she is,” said Mr. Templeton, with some warmth, and
+gazing fondly at the child, who was now throwing buttercups up in the
+air, and trying to catch them. Mr. Ferrers wished in his heart that they
+had been brickbats!
+
+“Is she like her mother?” asked the nephew.
+
+“Like whom, sir?”
+
+“Her mother--Mrs. Templeton.”
+
+“No, not very; there is an air, perhaps, but the likeness is not
+remarkably strong. Would you not like to go to your room before dinner?”
+
+“Thank you. Can I not first be presented to Mrs. Tem--”
+
+“She is at her devotions, Mr. Lumley,” interrupted Mr. Templeton,
+grimly.
+
+“The she-hypocrite!” thought Ferrers. “Oh, I am delighted that your
+pious heart has found so congenial a helpmate!”
+
+“It is a great blessing, and I am grateful for it. This is the way to
+the house.”
+
+Lumley, now formally installed in a grave bedroom, with dimity curtains
+and dark-brown paper with light-brown stars on it, threw himself into
+a large chair, and yawned and stretched with as much fervour as if he
+could have yawned and stretched himself into his uncle’s property. He
+then slowly exchanged his morning dress for a quiet suit of black, and
+thanked his stars that, amidst all his sins, he had never been a dandy,
+and had never rejoiced in a fine waistcoat--a criminal possession that
+he well knew would have entirely hardened his uncle’s conscience
+against him. He tarried in his room till the second bell summoned him to
+descend; and then, entering the drawing-room, which had a cold look
+even in July, found his uncle standing by the mantelpiece, and a young,
+slight, handsome woman, half-buried in a huge but not comfortable
+_fauteuil_.
+
+“Your aunt, Mrs. Templeton; madam, my nephew, Mr. Lumley Ferrers,” said
+Templeton, with a wave of the hand.
+
+“John,--dinner!”
+
+“I hope I am not late!”
+
+“No,” said Templeton, gently, for he had always liked his nephew, and
+began now to thaw towards him a little on seeing that Lumley put a good
+face upon the new state of affairs.
+
+“No, my dear boy--no; but I think order and punctuality cardinal virtues
+in a well-regulated family.”
+
+“Dinner, sir,” said the butler, opening the folding-doors at the end of
+the room.
+
+“Permit me,” said Lumley, offering his arm to his aunt. “What a lovely
+place this is!”
+
+Mrs. Templeton said something in reply, but what it was Ferrers could
+not discover, so low and choked was the voice.
+
+“Shy,” thought he: “odd for a widow! but that’s the way those
+husband-buriers take us in!”
+
+Plain as was the general furniture of the apartment, the natural
+ostentation of Mr. Templeton broke out in the massive value of the
+plate, and the number of the attendants. He was a rich man, and he
+was proud of his riches: he knew it was respectable to be rich, and he
+thought it was moral to be respectable. As for the dinner, Lumley knew
+enough of his uncle’s tastes to be prepared for viands and wines that
+even he (fastidious gourmand as he was) did not despise.
+
+Between the intervals of eating, Mr. Ferrers endeavoured to draw his
+aunt into conversation, but he found all his ingenuity fail him. There
+was, in the features of Mrs. Templeton, an expression of deep but
+calm melancholy, that would have saddened most persons to look upon,
+especially in one so young and lovely. It was evidently something beyond
+shyness or reserve that made her so silent and subdued, and even in
+her silence there was so much natural sweetness, that Ferrers could not
+ascribe her manner to haughtiness or the desire to repel. He was rather
+puzzled; “for though,” thought he, sensibly enough, “my uncle is not a
+youth, he is a very rich fellow; and how any widow, who is married again
+to a rich old fellow, can be melancholy, passes my understanding!”
+
+Templeton, as if to draw attention from his wife’s taciturnity, talked
+more than usual. He entered largely into politics, and regretted that in
+times so critical he was not in parliament.
+
+“Did I possess your youth and your health, Lumley, I would not neglect
+my country--Popery is abroad.”
+
+“I myself should like very much to be in parliament,” said Lumley,
+boldly.
+
+“I dare say you would,” returned the uncle, drily. “Parliament is very
+expensive--only fit for those who have a large stake in the country.
+Champagne to Mr. Ferrers.”
+
+Lumley bit his lip, and spoke little during the rest of the dinner. Mr.
+Templeton, however, waxed gracious by the time the dessert was on the
+table; and began cutting up a pineapple, with many assurances to Lumley
+that gardens were nothing without pineries. “Whenever you settle in the
+country, nephew, be sure you have a pinery.”
+
+“Oh, yes,” said Lumley, almost bitterly, “and a pack of hounds, and a
+French cook; they will all suit my fortune very well.”
+
+“You are more thoughtful on pecuniary matters than you used to be,” said
+the uncle.
+
+“Sir,” replied Ferrers, solemnly, “in a very short time I shall be what
+is called a middle-aged man.”
+
+“Humph!” said the host.
+
+There was another silence. Lumley was a man, as we have said, or implied
+before, of great knowledge of human nature, at least the ordinary sort
+of it, and he now revolved in his mind the various courses it might
+be wise to pursue towards his rich relation. He saw that, in delicate
+fencing, his uncle had over him the same advantage that a tall man has
+over a short one with the physical sword-play;--by holding his weapon in
+a proper position, he kept the other at arm’s length. There was a grand
+reserve and dignity about the man who had something to give away, of
+which Ferrers, however actively he might shift his ground and flourish
+his rapier, could not break the defence. He determined, therefore, upon
+a new game, for which his frankness of manner admirably adapted him.
+Just as he formed this resolution, Mrs. Templeton rose, and with a
+gentle bow, and soft though languid smile, glided from the room. The
+two gentlemen resettled themselves, and Templeton pushed the bottle to
+Ferrers.
+
+“Help yourself, Lumley! your travels seem to have deprived you of your
+high spirits--you are pensive.”
+
+“Sir,” said Ferrers, abruptly, “I wish to consult you.”
+
+“Oh, young man! you have been guilty of some excess--you have
+gambled--you have--”
+
+“I have done nothing, sir, that should make me less worthy your esteem.
+I repeat, I wish to consult you; I have outlived the hot days of my
+youth--I am now alive to the claims of the world. I have talents, I
+believe; and I have application, I know. I wish to fill a position in
+the world that may redeem my past indolence, and do credit to my family.
+Sir, I set your example before me, and I now ask your counsel, with the
+determination to follow it.”
+
+Templeton was startled; he half shaded his face with his hand, and
+gazed searchingly upon the high forehead and bold eyes of his nephew. “I
+believe you are sincere,” said he, after a pause.
+
+“You may well believe so, sir.”
+
+“Well, I will think of this. I like an honourable ambition--not too
+extravagant a one,--_that_ is sinful; but a _respectable_ station in the
+world is a proper object of desire, and wealth is a blessing; because,”
+ added the rich man, taking another slice of the pineapple,--“it enables
+us to be of use to our fellow-creatures!”
+
+“Sir, then,” said Ferrers, with daring animation--“then I avow that my
+ambition is precisely of the kind you speak of. I am obscure, I desire
+to be reputably known; my fortune is mediocre, I desire it to be
+great. I ask you for nothing--I know your generous heart; but I wish
+independently to work out my own career.”
+
+“Lumley,” said Templeton, “I never esteemed you so much as I do now.
+Listen to me--I will confide in you; I think the government are under
+obligations to me.”
+
+“I know it,” exclaimed Ferrers, whose eyes sparkled at the thought of a
+sinecure--for sinecures then existed!
+
+“And,” pursued the uncle, “I intend to ask them a favour in return.”
+
+“Oh, sir!”
+
+“Yes; I think--mark me--with management and address, I may--”
+
+“Well, my dear sir!”
+
+“Obtain a barony for myself and heirs; I trust I shall soon have a
+family!”
+
+Had somebody given Lumley Ferrers a hearty cuff on the ear, he would
+have thought less of it than of this wind-up of his uncle’s ambitious
+projects. His jaws fell, his eyes grew an inch larger, and he remained
+perfectly speechless.
+
+“Ay,” pursued Mr. Templeton, “I have long dreamed this; my character
+is spotless, my fortune great. I have ever exerted my parliamentary
+influence in favour of ministers; and, in this commercial country,
+no man has higher claims than Richard Templeton to the honours of
+a virtuous, loyal, and religious state. Yes, my boy,--I like your
+ambition--you see I have some of it myself; and since you are sincere
+in your wish to tread in my footsteps, I think I can obtain you a junior
+partnership in a highly respectable establishment. Let me see; your
+capital now is--
+
+“Pardon me, sir,” interrupted Lumley, colouring with indignation despite
+himself; “I honour commerce much, but my paternal relations are not such
+as would allow me to enter into trade. And permit me to add,” continued
+he, seizing with instant adroitness the new weakness presented to
+him--“permit me to add, that those relations, who have been ever kind to
+me, would, properly managed, be highly efficient in promoting your own
+views of advancement; for your sake I would not break with them. Lord
+Saxingham is still a minister--nay, he is in the cabinet.”
+
+“Hem--Lumley--hem!” said Templeton, thoughtfully; “we will consider--we
+will consider. Any more wine?”
+
+“No, I thank you, sir.”
+
+“Then I’ll just take my evening stroll, and think over matters. You
+can rejoin Mrs. Templeton. And I say, Lumley,--I read prayers at nine
+o’clock. Never forget your Maker, and He will not forget you. The barony
+will be an excellent thing--eh?--an English peerage--yes--an English
+peerage! very different from your beggarly countships abroad!”
+
+So saying, Mr. Templeton rang for his hat and cane, and stepped into the
+lawn from the window of the dining-room.
+
+“‘The world’s mine oyster, which I with sword will open,’” muttered
+Ferrers; “I would mould this selfish old man to my purpose; for, since
+I have neither genius to write nor eloquence to declaim, I will at
+least see whether I have not cunning to plot and courage to act.
+Conduct--conduct--conduct--there lies my talent; and what is conduct but
+a steady walk from a design to its execution?”
+
+With these thoughts Ferrers sought Mrs. Templeton. He opened the
+folding-doors very gently, for all his habitual movements were quick and
+noiseless, and perceived that Mrs. Templeton sat by the window, and that
+she seemed engrossed with a book which lay open on a little work-table
+before her.
+
+“Fordyce’s _Advice to Young Married Women_, I suppose. Sly jade!
+However, I must not have her against me.”
+
+He approached; still Mrs. Templeton did not note him; nor was it till
+he stood facing her that he himself observed that her tears were falling
+fast over the page.
+
+He was a little embarrassed, and, turning towards the window, affected
+to cough, and then said, without looking at Mrs. Templeton, “I fear I
+have disturbed you.”
+
+“No,” answered the same low, stifled voice that had before replied to
+Lumley’s vain attempts to provoke conversation; “it was a melancholy
+employment, and perhaps it is not right to indulge in it.”
+
+“May I inquire what author so affected you.”
+
+“It is but a volume of poems, and I am no judge of poetry; but it
+contains thoughts which--which--” Mrs. Templeton paused abruptly, and
+Lumley quietly took up the book.
+
+“Ah!” said he, turning to the title-page--“my friend ought to be much
+flattered.”
+
+“Your friend?”
+
+“Yes: this, I see, is by Ernest Maltravers, a very intimate ally of
+mine.”
+
+“I should like to see him,” cried Mrs. Templeton, almost with animation.
+“I read but little; it was by chance that I met with one of his books,
+and they are as if I heard a dear friend speaking to me. Ah! I should
+like to see him!”
+
+“I’m sure, madam,” said the voice of a third person, in an austere and
+rebuking accent, “I do not see what good it would do your immortal soul
+to see a man who writes idle verses, which appear to me, indeed, highly
+immoral. I just looked into that volume this morning and found nothing
+but trash--love-sonnets, and such stuff.”
+
+Mrs. Templeton made no reply, and Lumley, in order to change the
+conversation, which seemed a little too matrimonial for his taste, said,
+rather awkwardly, “You are returned very soon, sir.”
+
+“Yes, I don’t like walking in the rain!”
+
+“Bless me, it rains, so, it does--I had not observed--”
+
+“Are you wet, sir? had you not better--” began the wife timidly.
+
+“No, ma’am, I’m not wet, I thank you. By the by, nephew, this new author
+is a friend of yours. I wonder a man of his family should condescend
+to turn author. He can come to no good. I hope you will drop his
+acquaintance--authors are very unprofitable associates, I’m sure. I
+trust I shall see no more of Mr. Maltravers’s books in my house.”
+
+“Nevertheless, he is well thought of, sir, and makes no mean figure in
+the world,” said Lumley, stoutly; for he was by no means disposed to
+give up a friend who might be as useful to him as Mr. Templeton himself.
+
+“Figure or no figure--I have not had many dealings with authors in my
+day; and when I had I always repented it. Not sound, sir, not sound--all
+cracked somewhere. Mrs. Templeton, have the kindness to get the
+Prayer-book--my hassock must be fresh stuffed, it gives me quite a
+pain in my knee. Lumley, will you ring the bell? Your aunt is very
+melancholy. True religion is not gloomy; we will read a sermon on
+Cheerfulness.”
+
+“So, so,” said Mr. Ferrers to himself, as he undressed that night--“I
+see that my uncle is a little displeased with my aunt’s pensive face--a
+little jealous of her thinking of anything but himself: _tant mieux_.
+I must work upon this discovery; it will not do for them to live too
+happily with each other. And what with that lever, and what with his
+ambitious projects, I think I see a way to push the good things of this
+world a few inches nearer to Lumley Ferrers.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ “The pride too of her step, as light
+  Along the unconscious earth she went,
+  Seemed that of one born with a right
+  To walk some heavenlier element.”
+         _Loves of the Angels._
+
+     “Can it be
+  That these fine impulses, these lofty thoughts
+  Burning with their own beauty, are but given
+  To make me the low slave of vanity?”--_Erinna._
+
+     “Is she not too fair
+  Even to think of maiden’s sweetest care?
+  The mouth and brow are contrasts.”--_Ibid._
+
+IT was two or three evenings after the date of the last chapter, and
+there was what the newspapers call “a select party” in one of the
+noblest mansions in London. A young lady, on whom all eyes were bent,
+and whose beauty might have served the painter for a model of Semiramis
+or Zenobia, more majestic than became her years, and so classically
+faultless as to have something cold and statue-like in its haughty
+lineaments, was moving through the crowd that murmured applauses as she
+passed. This lady was Florence Lascelles, the daughter of Lumley’s great
+relation, the Earl of Saxingham, and supposed to be the richest heiress
+in England. Lord Saxingham himself drew aside his daughter as she swept
+along.
+
+“Florence,” said he in a whisper, “the Duke of ------ is greatly struck
+with you--be civil to him--I am about to present him.”
+
+So saying, the earl turned to a small, dark, stiff-looking man, of about
+twenty-eight years of age, at his left, and introduced the Duke of-----
+ introduction between the greatest match and the wealthiest heiress in
+the peerage.
+
+“Lady Florence,” said Lord Saxingham, “is as fond of horses as yourself,
+duke, though not quite so good a judge.”
+
+“I confess I _do_ like horses,” said the duke, with an ingenuous air.
+
+Lord Saxingham moved away.
+
+Lady Florence stood mute--one glance of bright contempt shot from her
+large eyes; her lip slightly curled, and she then half turned aside, and
+seemed to forget that her new acquaintance was in existence.
+
+His grace, like most great personages, was not apt to take offence; nor
+could he, indeed, ever suppose that any slight towards the Duke of ------
+could be intended; still he thought it would be proper in Lady
+Florence to begin the conversation; for he himself, though not shy, was
+habitually silent, and accustomed to be saved the fatigue of defraying
+the small charges of society. After a pause, seeing, however, that Lady
+Florence remained speechless, he began:
+
+“You ride sometimes in the Park, Lady Florence?”
+
+“Very seldom.”
+
+“It is, indeed, too warm for riding at present.”
+
+“I did not say so.”
+
+“Hem--I thought you did.”
+
+Another pause.
+
+“Did you speak, Lady Florence?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Oh, I beg pardon--Lord Saxingham is looking very well.”
+
+“I am glad you think so.”
+
+“Your picture in the exhibition scarcely does you justice, Lady
+Florence; yet Lawrence is usually happy.”
+
+“You are very flattering,” said Lady Florence, with a lively and
+perceptible impatience in her tone and manner. The young beauty was
+thoroughly spoilt--and now all the scorn of a scornful nature was drawn
+forth, by observing the envious eyes of the crowd were bent upon one
+whom the Duke of ------ was actually talking to. Brilliant as were her
+own powers of conversation, she would not deign to exert them--she was
+an aristocrat of intellect rather than birth, and she took it into her
+head that the duke was an idiot. She was very much mistaken. If she had
+but broken up the ice, she would have found that the water below was not
+shallow. The duke, in fact, like many other Englishmen, though he did
+not like the trouble of showing forth, and had an ungainly manner, was
+a man who had read a good deal, possessed a sound head and an honourable
+mind, though he did not know what it was to love anybody, to care
+much for anything, and was at once perfectly sated and yet perfectly
+contented; for apathy is the combination of satiety and content.
+
+Still Florence judged of him as lively persons are apt to judge of the
+sedate; besides, she wanted to proclaim to him and to everybody else,
+how little she cared for dukes and great matches; she, therefore, with a
+slight inclination of her head, turned away, and extended her hand to
+a dark young man, who was gazing on her with that respectful but
+unmistakable admiration which proud women are never proud enough to
+despise.
+
+“Ah, signor,” said she, in Italian, “I am so glad to see you; it is a
+relief, indeed, to find genius in a crowd of nothings.”
+
+So saying, the heiress seated herself on one of those convenient couches
+which hold but two, and beckoned the Italian to her side. Oh, how the
+vain heart of Castruccio Cesarini beat!--what visions of love, rank,
+wealth, already flitted before him!
+
+“I almost fancy,” said Castruccio, “that the old days of romance are
+returned, when a queen could turn from princes and warriors to listen to
+a troubadour.”
+
+“Troubadours are now more rare than warriors and princes,” replied
+Florence, with gay animation, which contrasted strongly with the
+coldness she had manifested to the Duke of ------, “and therefore it
+would not now be a very great merit in a queen to fly from dulness and
+insipidity to poetry and wit.”
+
+“Ah, say not wit,” said Cesarini; “wit is incompatible with the
+grave character of deep feelings;--incompatible with enthusiasm, with
+worship;--incompatible with the thoughts that wait upon Lady Florence
+Lascelles.”
+
+Florence coloured and slightly frowned; but the immense distinction
+between her position and that of the young foreigner, with her own
+inexperience, both of real life and the presumption of vain hearts,
+made her presently forget the flattery that would have offended her in
+another. She turned the conversation, however, into general channels,
+and she talked of Italian poetry with a warmth and eloquence worthy of
+the theme. While they thus conversed, a new guest had arrived, who, from
+the spot where he stood, engaged with Lord Saxingham, fixed a steady and
+scrutinising gaze upon the pair.
+
+“Lady Florence has indeed improved,” said this new guest. “I could not
+have conceived that England boasted any one half so beautiful.”
+
+“She certainly is handsome, my dear Lumley,--the Lascelles cast of
+countenance,” replied Lord Saxingham, “and so gifted! She is positively
+learned--quite a _bas bleu_. I tremble to think of the crowd of poets
+and painters who will make a fortune out of her enthusiasm. _Entre
+nous_, Lumley, I could wish her married to a man of sober sense, like
+the Duke of ------; for sober sense is exactly what she wants. Do
+observe, she has been sitting just half an hour flirting with that
+odd-looking adventurer, a Signor Cesarini, merely because he writes
+sonnets and wears a dress like a stage-player!”
+
+“It is the weakness of the sex, my dear lord,” said Lumley; “they like
+to patronise, and they dote upon all oddities, from China monsters to
+cracked poets. But I fancy, by a restless glance cast every now and then
+around the room, that my beautiful cousin has in her something of the
+coquette.”
+
+“There you are quite right, Lumley,” returned Lord Saxingham, laughing;
+“but I will not quarrel with her for breaking hearts and refusing
+hands, if she do but grow steady at last, and settle into the Duchess
+of------.”
+
+“Duchess of ------!” repeated Lumley, absently; “well, I will go and
+present myself. I see she is growing tired of the signor. I will sound
+her as to the ducal impressions, my dear lord.”
+
+“Do--I dare not,” replied the father; “she is an excellent girl, but
+heiresses are always contradictory. It was very foolish to deprive me
+of all control over her fortune. Come and see me again soon, Lumley. I
+suppose you are going abroad?”
+
+“No, I shall settle in England; but of my prospects and plans more
+hereafter.”
+
+With this, Lumley quietly glided away to Florence. There was something
+in Ferrers that was remarkable from its very simplicity. His clear,
+sharp features, with the short hair and high brow--the absolute
+plainness of his dress, and the noiseless, easy, self-collected calm of
+all his motions, made a strong contrast to the showy Italian, by whose
+side he now stood. Florence looked up at him with some little surprise
+at his intrusion.
+
+“Ah, you don’t recollect me!” said Lumley, with his pleasant laugh.
+“Faithless Imogen, after all your vows of constancy! Behold your Alonzo!
+
+   ‘The worms they crept in and the worms they crept out.’
+
+“Don’t you remember how you trembled when I told you that true story, as
+we
+
+   ‘Conversed as we sat on the green”?
+
+“Oh!” cried Florence, “it is indeed you, my dear cousin--my dear Lumley!
+What an age since we parted!”
+
+“Don’t talk of age--it is an ugly word to a man of my years. Pardon,
+signor, if I disturb you.”
+
+And here Lumley, with a low bow, slid coolly into the place which
+Cesarini, who had shyly risen, left vacant for him. Castruccio looked
+disconcerted; but Florence had forgotten him in her delight at seeing
+Lumley, and Cesarini moved discontentedly away, and seated himself at a
+distance.
+
+“And I come back,” continued Lumley, “to find you a confirmed beauty and
+a professional coquette--don’t blush!”
+
+“Do they, indeed, call me a coquette?”
+
+“Oh, yes,--for once the world is just.”
+
+“Perhaps I do deserve the reproach. Oh, Lumley, how I despise all that I
+see and hear!”
+
+“What, even the Duke of ------?”
+
+“Yes, I fear even the Duke of ------ is no exception!”
+
+“Your father will go mad if he hear you.”
+
+“My father!--my poor father!--yes, he thinks the utmost that I, Florence
+Lascelles, am made for, is to wear a ducal coronet, and give the best
+balls in London.”
+
+“And pray what was Florence Lascelles made for?”
+
+“Ah! I cannot answer the question. I fear for Discontent and Disdain.”
+
+“You are an enigma--but I will take pains and not rest till I solve
+you.”
+
+“I defy you.”
+
+“Thanks--better defy than despise.
+
+“Oh, you must be strangely altered, if I can despise you.”
+
+“Indeed! what do you remember of me?”
+
+“That you were frank, bold, and therefore, I suppose, true!--that
+you shocked my aunts and my father by your contempt for the vulgar
+hypocrisies of our conventional life. Oh, no! I cannot despise you.”
+
+Lumley raised his eyes to those of Florence--he gazed on her long and
+earnestly--ambitious hopes rose high within him.
+
+“My fair cousin,” said he, in an altered and serious tone, “I see
+something in your spirit kindred to mine; and I am glad that yours is
+one of the earliest voices which confirm my new resolves on my return to
+busy England!”
+
+“And those resolves?”
+
+“Are an Englishman’s--energetic and ambitious.”
+
+“Alas, ambition! How many false portraits are there of the great
+original!”
+
+Lumley thought he had found a clue to the heart of his cousin, and he
+began to expatiate, with unusual eloquence, on the nobleness of that
+daring sin which “lost angels heaven.” Florence listened to him with
+attention, but not with sympathy. Lumley was deceived. His was not an
+ambition that could attract the fastidious but high-souled Idealist.
+The selfishness of his nature broke out in all the sentiments that he
+fancied would seem to her most elevated. Place--power--titles--all these
+objects were low and vulgar to one who saw them daily at her feet.
+
+At a distance the Duke of ------ continued from time to time to direct
+his cold gaze at Florence. He did not like her the less for not seeming
+to court him. He had something generous within him, and could understand
+her. He went away at last, and thought seriously of Florence as a wife.
+Not a wife for companionship, for friendship, for love; but a wife who
+could take the trouble of rank off his hands--do him honour, and raise
+him an heir, whom he might flatter himself would be his own.
+
+From his corner also, with dreams yet more vain and daring, Castruccio
+Cesarini cast his eyes upon the queen-like brow of the great heiress.
+Oh, yes, she had a soul--she could disdain rank and revere genius!
+What a triumph over De Montaigne--Maltravers--all the world, if he, the
+neglected poet, could win the hand for which the magnates of the earth
+sighed in vain! Pure and lofty as he thought himself, it was her birth
+and her wealth which Cesarini adored in Florence. And Lumley, nearer
+perhaps to the prize than either--yet still far off--went on conversing,
+with eloquent lips and sparkling eyes, while his cold heart was planning
+every word, dictating every glance, and laying out (for the most worldly
+are often the most visionary) the chart for a royal road to fortune.
+And Florence Lascelles, when the crowd had dispersed and she sought her
+chamber, forgot all three; and with that morbid romance often peculiar
+to those for whom Fate smiles the most, mused over the ideal image of
+the one she _could_ love--“in maiden meditation _not_ fancy-free!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+ “In mea vesanas habui dispendia vires,
+  Et valui poenas fortis in ipse meas.” *--OVID.
+
+* I had the strength of a madman to my own cost, and employed that
+strength in my own punishment.
+
+ “Then might my breast be read within,
+  A thousand volumes would be written there.”
+         EARL OF STIRLING.
+
+ERNEST MALTRAVERS was at the height of his reputation; the work which
+he had deemed the crisis that was to make or mar him was the most
+brilliantly successful of all he had yet committed to the public.
+Certainly, chance did as much for it as merit, as is usually the case
+with works that become instantaneously popular. We may hammer away at
+the casket with strong arm and good purpose, and all in vain; when some
+morning a careless stroke hits the right nail on the head, and we secure
+the treasure.
+
+It was at this time, when in the prime of youth--rich, courted,
+respected, run after--that Ernest Maltravers fell seriously ill. It was
+no active or visible disease, but a general irritability of the nerves,
+and a languid sinking of the whole frame. His labours began, perhaps, to
+tell against him. In earlier life he had been as active as a hunter
+of the chamois, and the hardy exercise of his frame counteracted the
+effects of a restless and ardent mind. The change from an athletic to a
+sedentary habit of life--the wear and tear of the brain--the absorbing
+passion for knowledge which day and night kept all his faculties in a
+stretch; made strange havoc in a constitution naturally strong. The poor
+author! how few persons understand; and forbear with, and pity him!
+He sells his health and youth to a rugged taskmaster. And, O blind and
+selfish world, you expect him to be as free of manner, and as pleasant
+of cheer, and as equal of mood, as if he were passing the most agreeable
+and healthful existence that pleasure could afford to smooth the
+wrinkles of the mind, or medicine invent to regulate the nerves of
+the body. But there was, besides all this, another cause that operated
+against the successful man!--His heart was too solitary. He lived
+without the sweet household ties--the connections and amities he formed
+excited for a moment, but possessed no charm to comfort or to soothe.
+Cleveland resided so much in the country, and was of so much calmer
+a temperament, and so much more advanced in age, that, with all the
+friendship that subsisted between them, there was none of that daily and
+familiar interchange of confidence which affectionate natures demand
+as the very food of life. Of his brother (as the reader will conjecture
+from never having been formally presented to him) Ernest saw but little.
+Colonel Maltravers, one of the gayest and handsomest men of his time,
+married a fine lady, lived principally at Paris, except when, for a
+few weeks in the shooting season, he filled his country house with
+companions who had nothing in common with Ernest: the brothers
+corresponded regularly every quarter, and saw each other once a
+year--this was all their intercourse. Ernest Maltravers stood in the
+world alone, with that cold but anxious spectre--Reputation.
+
+It was late at night. Before a table covered with the monuments of
+erudition and thought sat a young man with a pale and worn countenance.
+The clock in the room told with a fretting distinctness every moment
+that lessened the journey to the grave. There was an anxious and
+expectant expression on the face of the student, and from time to time
+he glanced to the clock, and muttered to himself. Was it a letter from
+some adored mistress--the soothing flattery from some mighty arbiter of
+arts and letters--that the young man eagerly awaited? No; the aspirer
+was forgotten in the valetudinarian. Ernest Maltravers was waiting the
+visit of his physician, whom at that late hour a sudden thought had
+induced him to summon from his rest. At length the well-known knock
+was heard, and in a few moments the physician entered. He was one well
+versed in the peculiar pathology of book men, and kindly as well as
+skilful.
+
+“My dear Mr. Maltravers, what is this? How are we?--not seriously ill, I
+hope--no relapse--pulse low and irregular, I see, but no fever. You are
+nervous.”
+
+“Doctor,” said the student, “I did not send for you at this time of
+night from the idle fear or fretful caprice of an invalid. But when I
+saw you this morning, you dropped some hints which have haunted me ever
+since. Much that it befits the conscience and the soul to attend to
+without loss of time depends upon my full knowledge of my real state.
+If I understand you rightly, I may have but a short time to live--is it
+so?”
+
+“Indeed!” said the doctor, turning away his face; “you have exaggerated
+my meaning. I did not say that you were in what we technically call
+danger.”
+
+“Am I then likely to be a _long_-lived man?”
+
+The doctor coughed--“That is uncertain, my dear young friend,” said he,
+after a pause.
+
+“Be plain with me. The plans of life must be based upon such
+calculations as we can reasonably form of its probable duration. Do not
+fancy that I am weak enough or coward enough to shrink from any abyss
+which I have approached unconsciously; I desire--I adjure--nay, I
+command you to be explicit.”
+
+There was an earnest and solemn dignity in his patient’s voice and
+manner which deeply touched and impressed the good physician.
+
+“I will answer you frankly,” said he; “you overwork the nerves and
+the brain; if you do not relax, you will subject yourself to confirmed
+disease and premature death. For several months--perhaps for years
+to come--you should wholly cease from literary labour. Is this a hard
+sentence? You are rich and young--enjoy yourself while you can.”
+
+Maltravers appeared satisfied--changed the conversation--talked easily
+on other matters for a few minutes: nor was it till he had dismissed
+his physician that he broke forth with the thoughts that were burning in
+him.
+
+“Oh!” cried he aloud, as he rose and paced the room with rapid strides;
+“now, when I see before me the broad and luminous path, am I to be
+condemned to halt and turn aside? A vast empire rises on my view,
+greater than that of Caesars and conquerors--an empire durable and
+universal in the souls of men, that time itself cannot overthrow; and
+Death marches with me, side by side, and the skeleton hand waves me back
+to the nothingness of common men.”
+
+He paused at the casement--he threw it open, and leant forth and gasped
+for air. Heaven was serene and still, as morning came coldly forth
+amongst the waning stars; and the haunts of men, in their thoroughfare
+of idleness and of pleasure, were desolate and void. Nothing, save
+Nature, was awake.
+
+“And if, O stars!” murmured Maltravers, from the depth of his excited
+heart--“if I have been insensible to your solemn beauty--if the Heaven
+and the Earth had been to me but as air and clay--if I were one of a
+dull and dim-eyed herd--I might live on, and drop into the grave from
+the ripeness of unprofitable years. It is because I yearn for the great
+objects of an immortal being, that life shrinks and shrivels up like a
+scroll. Away! I will not listen to these human and material monitors,
+and consider life as a thing greater than the things that I would live
+for. My choice is made, glory is more persuasive than the grave.”
+
+He turned impatiently from the casement--his eyes flashed--his chest
+heaved--he trod the chamber with a monarch’s air. All the calculations
+of prudence, all the tame and methodical reasonings with which, from
+time to time, he had sought to sober down the impetuous man into the
+calm machine, faded away before the burst of awful and commanding
+passions that swept over his soul. Tell a man, in the full tide of his
+triumphs, that he bears death within him; and what crisis of thought can
+be more startling and more terrible!
+
+Maltravers had, as we have seen, cared little for fame, till fame had
+been brought within his reach: then, with every step he took, new
+Alps had arisen. Each new conjecture brought to light a new truth that
+demanded enforcement or defence. Rivalry and competition chafed his
+blood, and kept his faculties at their full speed. He had the generous
+race-horse spirit of emulation. Ever in action, ever in progress,
+cheered on by the sarcasms of foes, even more than by the applause of
+friends, the desire of glory had become the habit of existence. When we
+have commenced a career, what stop is there till the grave?--where is
+the definite barrier of that ambition which, like the eastern bird,
+seems ever on the wing, and never rests upon the earth? Our names are
+not settled till our death: the ghosts of what we have done are made our
+haunting monitors--our scourging avengers--if ever we cease to do,
+or fall short of the younger past. Repose is oblivion; to pause is to
+unravel all the web that we have woven--until the tomb closes over
+us, and men, just when it is too late, strike the fair balance between
+ourselves and our rivals; and we are measured, not by the least, but
+by the greatest triumphs we have achieved. Oh, what a crushing sense of
+impotence comes over us, when we feel that our frame cannot support our
+mind--when the hand can no longer execute what the soul, actively as
+ever, conceives and desires!--the quick life tied to the dead form--the
+ideas fresh as immortality, gushing forth rich and golden, and the
+broken nerves, and the aching frame, and the weary eyes!--the spirit
+athirst for liberty and heaven--and the damning, choking consciousness
+that we are walled up and prisoned in a dungeon that must be our
+burial-place! Talk not of freedom--there is no such thing as freedom to
+a man whose body is the gaol, whose infirmities are the racks, of his
+genius!
+
+Maltravers paused at last, and threw himself on his sofa, wearied and
+exhausted. Involuntarily, and as a half unconscious means of escaping
+from his conflicting and profitless emotions, he turned to several
+letters, which had for hours lain unopened on his table. Every one, the
+seal of which he broke, seemed to mock his state--every one seemed to
+attest the felicity of his fortunes. Some bespoke the admiring sympathy
+of the highest and wisest--one offered him a brilliant opening into
+public life--another (it was from Cleveland) was fraught with all the
+proud and rapturous approbation of a prophet whose auguries are at last
+fulfilled. At that letter Maltravers sighed deeply, and paused before he
+turned to the others. The last he opened was in an unknown hand, nor was
+any name affixed to it. Like all writers of some note, Maltravers was
+in the habit of receiving anonymous letters of praise, censure, warning,
+and exhortation--especially from young ladies at boarding schools, and
+old ladies in the country; but there was that in the first sentences of
+the letter, which he now opened with a careless hand, that riveted his
+attention. It was a small and beautiful handwriting, yet the letters
+were more clear and bold than they usually are in feminine caligraphy.
+
+“Ernest Maltravers,” began this singular effusion, “have you weighed
+yourself? Are you aware of your capacities? Do you feel that for you
+there may be a more dazzling reputation that that which appears to
+content you? You who seem to penetrate into the subtlest windings of the
+human heart, and to have examined nature as through a glass--you, whose
+thoughts stand forth like armies marshalled in defence of truth, bold
+and dauntless, and without a stain upon their glittering armour;--are
+you, at your age, and with your advantages, to bury yourself amidst
+books and scrolls? Do you forget that action is the grand career for men
+who think as you do? Will this word-weighing and picture-writing--the
+cold eulogies of pedants--the listless praises of literary idlers,
+content all the yearnings of your ambition? You were not made solely for
+the closet; ‘The Dreams of Pindus, and the Aonian Maids’ cannot endure
+through the noon of manhood. You are too practical for the mere poet,
+and too poetical to sink into the dull tenor of a learned life. I have
+never seen you, yet I know you--I read your spirit in your page; that
+aspiration for something better and greater than the great and the
+good, which colours all your passionate revelations of yourself and
+others--cannot be satisfied merely by ideal images. You cannot be
+contented, as poets and historians mostly are, by becoming great only
+from delineating great men, or imagining great events, or describing
+a great era. Is it not worthier of you to be what you fancy or relate?
+Awake, Maltravers, awake! Look into your heart, and feel your proper
+destinies. And who am I that thus address you?--a woman whose soul is
+filled with you--a woman in whom your eloquence has awakened, amidst
+frivolous and vain circles, the sense of a new existence--a woman who
+would make you, yourself, the embodied ideal of your own thoughts and
+dreams, and who would ask from earth no other lot than that of following
+you on the road of fame with the eyes of her heart. Mistake me not; I
+repeat that I have never seen you, nor do I wish it; you might be
+other than I imagine, and I should lose an idol, and be left without
+a worship. I am a kind of visionary Rosicrucian: it is a spirit that I
+adore, and not a being like myself. You imagine, perhaps, that I have
+some purpose to serve in this--I have no object in administering to your
+vanity; and if I judge you rightly, this letter is one that might make
+you vain without a blush. Oh, the admiration that does not spring from
+holy and profound sources of emotion--how it saddens us or disgusts!
+I have had my share of vulgar homage, and it only makes me feel doubly
+alone. I am richer than you are--I have youth--I have what they call
+beauty. And neither riches, youth, nor beauty ever gave me the silent
+and deep happiness I experience when I think of you. This is a worship
+that might, I repeat, well make even you vain. Think of these words, I
+implore you. Be worthy, not of my thoughts, but of the shape in which
+they represent you: and every ray of glory that surrounds you
+will brighten my own way, and inspire me with a kindred emulation.
+Farewell.--I may write to you again, but you will never discover me; and
+in life I pray that we may never meet!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+ “Our list of nobles next let Amri grace.”
+         _Absalom and Achitophel_.
+
+ “Sine me vacivum tempus ne quod dem mihi Laboris.” *--TER.
+
+* Suffer me to employ my spare time in some kind of labour.
+
+“I CAN’T think,” said one of a group of young men, loitering by the
+steps of a clubhouse in St. James’s Street--“I can’t think what has
+chanced to Maltravers. Do you observe (as he walks--there--the other
+side of the way) how much he is altered? He stoops like an old man, and
+hardly ever lifts his eyes from the ground. He certainly seems sick and
+sad.”
+
+“Writing books, I suppose.”
+
+“Or privately married.”
+
+“Or growing too rich--rich men are always unhappy beings.”
+
+“Ha, Ferrers, how are you?”
+
+“So-so. What’s the news?” replied Lumley.
+
+“Rattler pays forfeit.”
+
+“O! but in politics?”
+
+“Hang politics--are you turned politician?”
+
+“At my age, what else is there left to do?”
+
+“I thought so, by your hat; all politicians sport odd-looking hats: it
+is very remarkable, but that is the great symptom of the disease.”
+
+“My hat!--_is_ it odd?” said Ferrers, taking off the commodity in
+question, and seriously regarding it.
+
+“Why, who ever saw such a brim?”
+
+“Glad you think so.”
+
+“Why, Ferrers?”
+
+“Because it is a prudent policy in this country to surrender something
+trifling up to ridicule. If people can abuse your hat or your carriage,
+or the shape of your nose, or a wart on your chin, they let slip a
+thousand more important matters. ‘Tis the wisdom of the camel-driver,
+who gives up his gown for the camel to trample on, that he may escape
+himself.”
+
+“How droll you are, Ferrers! Well, I shall turn in, and read the papers;
+and you--”
+
+“Shall pay my visits and rejoice in my hat.”
+
+“Good day to you; by the by, your friend, Maltravers, has just passed,
+looking thoughtful, and talking to himself. What’s the matter with him?”
+
+“Lamenting, perhaps, that he, too, does not wear an odd hat for
+gentlemen like you to laugh at, and leave the rest of him in peace. Good
+day.”
+
+On went Ferrers, and soon found himself in the Mall of the Park. Here he
+was joined by Mr. Templeton.
+
+“Well, Lumley,” said the latter (and it may be here remarked that Mr.
+Templeton now exhibited towards his nephew a greater respect of manner
+and tone than he had thought it necessary to observe before)--“well,
+Lumley, and have you seen Lord Saxingham?”
+
+“I have, sir; and I regret to say--”
+
+“I thought so--I thought it,” interrupted Templeton: “no gratitude in
+public men--no wish, in high place, to honour virtue!”
+
+“Pardon me; Lord Saxingham declares that he should be delighted to
+forward your views--that no man more deserves a peerage; but that--”
+
+“Oh, yes; always _buts_!”
+
+“But that there are so many claimants at present whom it is impossible
+to satisfy; and--and--but I feel I ought not to go on.”
+
+“Proceed, sir, I beg.”
+
+“Why, then, Lord Saxingham is (I must be frank) a man who has a great
+regard for his own family. Your marriage (a source, my dear uncle, of
+the greatest gratification to _me_) cuts off the probable chance of your
+fortune and title, if you acquire the latter, descending to--”
+
+“Yourself!” put in Templeton, drily. “Your relation seems, for the first
+time, to have discovered how dear your interests are to him.”
+
+“For me, individually, sir, my relation does not care a rush--but he
+cares a great deal for any member of his house being rich and in high
+station. It increases the range and credit of his connections; and Lord
+Saxingham is a man whom connections help to keep great. To be plain with
+you, he will not stir in this business, because he does not see how his
+kinsman is to be benefited, or his house strengthened.”
+
+“Public virtue!” exclaimed Templeton.
+
+“Virtue, my dear uncle, is a female: as long as she is private property,
+she is excellent; but public virtue, like any other public lady, is a
+common prostitute.”
+
+“Pshaw!” grunted Templeton, who was too much out of humour to read his
+nephew the lecture he might otherwise have done upon the impropriety of
+his simile; for Mr. Templeton was one of those men who hold it vicious
+to talk of vice as existing in the world; he was very much shocked to
+hear anything called by its proper name.
+
+“Has not Mrs. Templeton some connections that may be useful to you?”
+
+“No, sir!” cried the uncle, in a voice of thunder.
+
+“Sorry to hear it--but we cannot expect all things: you have married
+for love--you have a happy home, a charming wife--this is better than a
+title and a fine lady.”
+
+“Mr. Lumley Ferrers, you may spare me your consolations. My wife--”
+
+“Loves you dearly, I dare say,” said the imperturbable nephew. “She has
+so much sentiment, is so fond of poetry. Oh, yes, she must love one who
+has done so much for her.”
+
+“Done so much; what do you mean?”
+
+“Why, with your fortune--your station--your just ambition--you,
+who might have married any one; nay, by remaining unmarried, have
+conciliated all my interested, selfish relations--hang them--you have
+married a lady without connections--and what more could you do for her?”
+
+“Pooh, pooh; you don’t know all.”
+
+Here Templeton stopped short, as if about to say too much, and frowned;
+then, after a pause, he resumed, “Lumley, I have married, it is true.
+You may not be my heir, but I will make it up to you--that is, if you
+deserve my affection.”
+
+“My dear unc--”
+
+“Don’t interrupt me, I have projects for you. Let our interests be
+the same. The title may yet descend to you. I may have no male
+offspring--meanwhile, draw on me to any reasonable amount--young men
+have expenses--but be prudent, and if you want to get on in the world,
+never let the world detect you in a scrape. There, leave me now.”
+
+“My best, my heartfelt thanks!”
+
+“Hush--sound Lord Saxingham again; I must and will have this bauble--I
+have set my heart on it.” So saying, Templeton waved away his nephew,
+and musingly pursued his path towards Hyde Park Corner, where his
+carriage awaited him. As soon as he entered his demesnes, he saw
+his wife’s daughter running across the lawn to greet him. His heart
+softened; he checked the carriage and descended: he caressed her, he
+played with her, he laughed as she laughed. No parent could be more
+fond.
+
+“Lumley Ferrers has talent to do me honour,” said he, anxiously, “but
+his principles seem unstable. However, surely that open manner is the
+sign of a good heart.”
+
+Meanwhile, Ferrers, in high spirits, took his way to Ernest’s house. His
+friend was not at home, but Ferrers never wanted a host’s presence in
+order to be at home himself. Books were round him in abundance, but
+Ferrers was not one of those who read for amusement. He threw himself
+into an easy-chair, and began weaving new meshes of ambition and
+intrigue. At length the door opened, and Maltravers entered.
+
+“Why, Ernest, how ill you are looking!”
+
+“I have not been well, but I am now recovering. As physicians recommend
+change of air to ordinary patients--so I am about to try change of
+habit. Active I must be--action is the condition of my being; but I must
+have done with books from the present. You see me in a new character.”
+
+“How?”
+
+“That of a public man--I have entered parliament.”
+
+“You astonish me!--I have read the papers this morning. I see not even a
+vacancy, much less an election.”
+
+“It is all managed by the lawyer and the banker. In other words, my seat
+is a close borough.”
+
+“No bore of constituents. I congratulate you, and envy. I wish I were in
+parliament myself.”
+
+“You! I never fancied you bitten by the political mania.”
+
+“Political!--no. But it is the most respectable way, with luck, of
+living on the public. Better than swindling.”
+
+“A candid way of viewing the question. But I thought at one time you
+were half a Benthamite, and that your motto was, ‘The greatest happiness
+of the greatest number.’”
+
+“The greatest number to me is number _one_. I agree with the
+Pythagoreans--unity is the perfect principle of creation! Seriously, how
+can you mistake the principles of opinion for the principles of conduct?
+I am a Benthamite, a benevolist, as a logician--but the moment I leave
+the closet for the world, I lay aside speculation for others, and act
+for myself.”
+
+“You are, at least, more frank than prudent in these confessions.”
+
+“There you are wrong. It is by affecting to be worse than we are that
+we become popular--and we get credit for being both honest and practical
+fellows. My uncle’s mistake is to be a hypocrite in words: it rarely
+answers. Be frank in words, and nobody will suspect hypocrisy in your
+designs.”
+
+Maltravers gazed hard at Ferrers--something revolted and displeased
+his high-wrought Platonism in the easy wisdom of his old friend. But he
+felt, almost for the first time, that Ferrers was a man to get on in the
+world--and he sighed; I hope it was for the world’s sake.
+
+After a short conversation on indifferent matters, Cleveland was
+announced; and Ferrers, who could make nothing out of Cleveland, soon
+withdrew. Ferrers was now becoming an economist in his time.
+
+“My dear Maltravers,” said Cleveland, when they were alone, “I am so
+glad to see you; for, in the first place, I rejoice to find you are
+extending your career of usefulness.”
+
+“Usefulness--ah, let me think so! Life is so uncertain and so short,
+that we cannot too soon bring the little it can yield into the great
+commonwealth of the Beautiful or the Honest; and both belong to and make
+up the Useful. But in politics, and in a highly artificial state, what
+doubts beset us! what darkness surrounds! If we connive at abuses, we
+juggle with our own reason and integrity--if we attack them, how much,
+how fatally we may derange that solemn and conventional ORDER which is
+the mainspring of the vast machine! How little, too, can one man, whose
+talents may not be in that coarse road--in that mephitic atmosphere, be
+enabled to effect!”
+
+“He may effect a vast deal even without eloquence or labour:--he may
+effect a vast deal, if he can set one example, amidst a crowd of selfish
+aspirants and heated fanatics, of an honest and dispassionate man.
+He may effect more, if he may serve among the representatives of that
+hitherto unrepresented thing--Literature; if he redeem, by an ambition
+above place and emolument, the character for subservience that
+court-poets have obtained for letters--if he may prove that speculative
+knowledge is not disjoined from the practical world, and maintain the
+dignity of disinterestedness that should belong to learning. But the
+end of a scientific morality is not to serve others only, but also to
+perfect and accomplish our individual selves; our own souls are a solemn
+trust to our own lives. You are about to add to your experience of human
+motives and active men; and whatever additional wisdom you acquire
+will become equally evident and equally useful, no matter whether it be
+communicated through action or in books. Enough of this, my dear Ernest.
+I have come to dine with you, and make you accompany me to-night to
+a house where you will be welcome, and I think interested. Nay,
+no excuses. I have promised Lord Latimer that he shall make your
+acquaintance, and he is one of the most eminent men with whom political
+life will connect you.”
+
+And to this change of habits, from the closet to the senate, had
+Maltravers been induced by a state of health, which, with most men,
+would have been an excuse for indolence. Indolent he could not be; he
+had truly said to Ferrers, that “action was the condition of his being.”
+ If THOUGHT, with its fever and aching tension, had been too severe a
+taskmaster on the nerves and brain, the coarse and homely pursuit of
+practical politics would leave the imagination and intellect in repose,
+while it would excite the hardier qualities and gifts, which animate
+without exhausting. So, at least, hoped Maltravers. He remembered the
+profound saying in one of his favourite German authors, “that to keep
+the mind and body in perfect health, it is necessary to mix habitually
+and betimes in the common affairs of men.” And the anonymous
+correspondent;--had her exhortations any influence on his decision? I
+know not. But when Cleveland left him, Maltravers unlocked his desk, and
+re-perused the last letter he had received from the Unknown. The _last_
+letter!--yes, those epistles had now become frequent.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+ * * * * “Le brillant de votre esprit donne un si grand
+  eclat a votre teint et a vos yeux, que quoiqu’il semble
+  que l’esprit ne doit toucher que les oreilles, il est
+  pourtaut certain que la votre eblouit les yeux.” *
+        _Lettres de Madame de Sevigne_.
+
+* The brilliancy of your wit gives so great a lustre to your complexion
+and your eyes, that, though it seems that wit should only reach the
+ears, it is altogether certain that yours dazzles the eyes.
+
+AT Lord Latimer’s house were assembled some hundreds of those persons
+who are rarely found together in London society; for business, politics,
+and literature draught off the most eminent men, and usually leave
+to houses that receive the world little better than indolent rank or
+ostentatious wealth. Even the young men of pleasure turn up their noses
+at parties now-a-days, and find society a bore. But there are some dozen
+or two of houses, the owners of which are both apart from and above the
+fashion, in which a foreigner may see, collected under the same roof,
+many of the most remarkable men of busy, thoughtful, majestic England.
+Lord Latimer himself had been a cabinet minister. He retired from public
+life on pretence of ill-health; but, in reality, because its anxious
+bustle was not congenial to a gentle and accomplished, but somewhat
+feeble, mind. With a high reputation and an excellent cook he enjoyed a
+great popularity, both with his own party and the world in general; and
+he was the centre of a small, but distinguished circle of acquaintances,
+who drank Latimer’s wine, and quoted Latimer’s sayings, and liked
+Latimer much better, because, not being author or minister, he was not
+in their way.
+
+Lord Latimer received Maltravers with marked courtesy, and even
+deference, and invited him to join his own whist-table, which was one
+of the highest compliments his lordship could pay to his intellect. But
+when his guest refused the proffered honour, the earl turned him over
+to the countess, as having become the property of the womankind; and was
+soon immersed in his aspirations for the odd trick.
+
+Whilst Maltravers was conversing with Lady Latimer, he happened to
+raise his eyes, and saw opposite to him a young lady of such
+remarkable beauty, that he could scarcely refrain from an admiring
+exclamation.--“And who,” he asked, recovering himself, “is that lady?
+It is strange that even I, who go so little into the world, should be
+compelled to inquire the name of one whose beauty must already have made
+her celebrated.”
+
+“Oh, Lady Florence Lascelles--she came out last year. She is, indeed,
+most brilliant, yet more so in mind and accomplishments than face. I
+must be allowed to introduce you.”
+
+At this offer, a strange shyness, and as it were reluctant distrust,
+seized Maltravers--a kind of presentiment of danger and evil. He drew
+back, and would have made some excuse, but Lady Latimer did not heed his
+embarrassment, and was already by the side of Lady Florence Lascelles. A
+moment more, and beckoning to Maltravers, the countess presented him to
+the lady. As he bowed and seated himself beside his new acquaintance, he
+could not but observe that her cheeks were suffused with the most lively
+blushes, and that she received him with a confusion not common even in
+ladies just brought out, and just introduced to “a lion.” He was rather
+puzzled than flattered by these tokens of an embarrassment, somewhat
+akin to his own; and the first few sentences of their conversation
+passed off with a certain awkwardness and reserve. At this moment, to
+the surprise, perhaps to the relief, of Ernest, they were joined by
+Lumley Ferrers.
+
+“Ah, Lady Florence, I kiss your hands--I am charmed to find you
+acquainted with my friend Maltravers.”
+
+“And Mr. Ferrers, what makes him so late to-night?” asked the fair
+Florence, with a sudden ease, which rather startled Maltravers.
+
+“A dull dinner, _voila tout_--I have no other excuse.” And Ferrers,
+sliding into a vacant chair on the other side of Lady Florence,
+conversed volubly and unceasingly, as if seeking to monopolise her
+attention.
+
+Ernest had not been so much captivated with the manner of Florence as he
+had been struck with her beauty, and now, seeing her apparently engaged
+with another, he rose and quietly moved away. He was soon one of a knot
+of men who were conversing on the absorbing topics of the day; and as
+by degrees the exciting subject brought out his natural eloquence and
+masculine sense, the talkers became listeners, the knot widened into a
+circle, and he himself was unconsciously the object of general attention
+and respect.
+
+“And what think you of Mr. Maltravers?” asked Ferrers, carelessly; “does
+he keep up your expectations?”
+
+Lady Florence had sunk into a reverie, and Ferrers repeated his
+question.
+
+“He is younger than I imagined him,--and--and--”
+
+“Handsomer, I suppose, you mean.”
+
+“No! calmer and less animated.”
+
+“He seems animated enough now,” said Ferrers; “but your ladylike
+conversation failed in striking the Promethean spark. ‘Lay that
+flattering unction to your soul.’”
+
+“Ah, you are right--he must have thought me very--”
+
+“Beautiful, no doubt.”
+
+“Beautiful!--I hate the word, Lumley. I wish I were not handsome--I
+might then get some credit for my intellect.”
+
+“Humph!” said Ferrers, significantly.
+
+“Oh, you don’t think so, sceptic,” said Florence, shaking her head with
+a slight laugh, and an altered manner.
+
+“Does it matter what I think,” said Ferrers, with an attempted touch at
+the sentimental, “when Lord This, and Lord That, and Mr. So-and-so, and
+Count What-d’ye-call-him, are all making their way to you, to dispossess
+me of my envied monopoly?”
+
+While Ferrers spoke, several of the scattered loungers grouped around
+Florence, and the conversation, of which she was the cynosure,
+became animated and gay. Oh, how brilliant she was, that peerless
+Florence!--with what petulant and sparkling grace came wit and wisdom,
+and even genius, from those ruby lips! Even the assured Ferrers felt his
+subtle intellect as dull and coarse to hers, and shrank with a reluctant
+apprehension from the arrows of her careless and prodigal repartees. For
+there was a scorn in the nature of Florence Lascelles which made her
+wit pain more frequently than it pleased. Educated even to
+learning--courageous even to a want of feminacy--she delighted to sport
+with ignorance and pretension, even in the highest places; and the laugh
+that she excited was like lightning;--no one could divine where next it
+might fall.
+
+But Florence, though dreaded and unloved, was yet courted, flattered,
+and the rage. For this there were two reasons: first, she was a
+coquette, and secondly, she was an heiress.
+
+Thus the talkers in the room were divided into two principal groups,
+over one of which Maltravers may be said to have presided; over the
+other, Florence. As the former broke up, Ernest was joined by Cleveland.
+
+“My dear cousin,” said Florence, suddenly, and in a whisper, as she
+turned to Lumley, “your friend is speaking of me--I see it. Go, I
+implore you, and let me know what he says!”
+
+“The commission is not flattering,” said Ferrers, almost sullenly.
+
+“Nay, a commission to gratify a woman’s curiosity is ever one of the
+most flattering embassies with which we can invest an able negotiator.”
+
+“Well, I must do your bidding, though I disown the favour.” Ferrers
+moved away, and joined Cleveland and Maltravers.
+
+“She is, indeed, beautiful: so perfect a contour I never beheld: she
+is the only woman I ever saw in whom the aquiline features seem more
+classical than even the Greek.”
+
+“So, that is your opinion of my fair cousin!” cried Ferrers, “you are
+caught.”
+
+“I wish he were,” said Cleveland. “Ernest is now old enough to settle,
+and there is not a more dazzling prize in England--rich, high-born,
+lovely, and accomplished.”
+
+“And what say you?” asked Lumley, almost impatiently, to Maltravers.
+
+“That I never saw one whom I admire more or could love less,” replied
+Ernest, as he quitted the rooms.
+
+Ferrers looked after him, and muttered to himself; he then rejoined
+Florence, who presently rose to depart, and taking Lumley’s arm, said,
+“Well, I see my father is looking round for me--and so for once I will
+forestall him. Come, Lumley, let us join him; I know he wants to see
+you.
+
+“Well?” said Florence, blushing deeply, and almost breathless, as they
+crossed the now half-empty apartments.
+
+“Well, my cousin?”
+
+“You provoke me--well, then, what said your friend?”
+
+“That you deserved your reputation of beauty, but that you were not his
+style. Maltravers is in love, you know.”
+
+“In love?”
+
+“Yes, a pretty Frenchwoman! quite romantic--an attachment of some years’
+standing.”
+
+Florence turned away her face, and said no more.
+
+“That’s a good fellow, Lumley,” said Lord Saxingham; “Florence is never
+more welcome to my eyes than at half-past one o’clock A.M., when I
+associate her with thoughts of my natural rest, and my unfortunate
+carriage-horses. By the by, I wish you would dine with me next
+Saturday.”
+
+“Saturday: unfortunately I am engaged to my uncle.”
+
+“Oh! he has behaved handsomely to you?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Mrs. Templeton pretty well?”
+
+“I fancy so.”
+
+“As ladies wish to be, etc.?” whispered his lordship.
+
+“No, thank Heaven!”
+
+“Well, if the old man could but make you his heir, we might think twice
+about the title.”
+
+“My dear lord, stop! one favour--write me a line to hint that
+delicately.”
+
+“No--no letters; letters always get into the papers.”
+
+“But cautiously worded--no danger of publication, on my honour.”
+
+“I’ll think of it. Good night.”
+
+
+
+
+BOOK VII.
+
+ Every man should strive to be as good as possible, but not
+ suppose himself to be the only thing that is good.
+        --PLOTIN. EN. 11. lib. ix. c. 9.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ “Deceit is the strong but subtle chain which runs through
+  all the members of a society, and links them together;
+  trick or be tricked is the alternative; ‘tis the way of
+  the world, and without it intercourse would drop.”
+         _Anonymous writer_ of 1722.
+
+ “A lovely child she was, of looks serene,
+  And motions which o’er things indifferent shed
+  The grace and gentleness from whence they came.”
+         PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
+
+ “His years but young, but his experience old.”--SHAKESPEARE.
+
+ “He after honour hunts, I after love.”--_Ibid._
+
+LUMLEY FERRERS was one of the few men in the world who act upon a
+profound, deliberate, and organized system--he had done so even from
+a boy. When he was twenty-one, he had said to himself, “Youth is the
+season for enjoyment: the triumphs of manhood, the wealth of age, do not
+compensate for a youth spent in unpleasurable toils.” Agreeably to this
+maxim, he had resolved not to adopt any profession; and being fond of
+travel, and of a restless temper, he had indulged abroad in all the
+gratifications that his moderate income could afford him: that income
+went farther on the Continent than at home, which was another reason
+for the prolongation of his travels. Now, when the whims and passions of
+youth were sated; and, ripened by a consummate and various knowledge of
+mankind, his harder capacities of mind became developed and centred into
+such ambition as it was his nature to conceive, he acted no less upon a
+regular and methodical plan of conduct, which he carried into details.
+He had little or nothing within himself to cross his cold theories by
+contradictory practice; for he was curbed by no principles and regulated
+but by few tastes: and our tastes are often checks as powerful as our
+principles. Looking round the English world, Ferrers saw, that at his
+age and with an equivocal position, and no chances to throw away, it was
+necessary that he should cast off all attributes of the character of the
+wanderer and the _garcon_.
+
+“There is nothing respectable in lodgings and a cab,” said Ferrers to
+himself--that “_self_” was his grand confidant!--“nothing stationary.
+Such are the appliances of a here-to-day-gone-to-morrow kind of life.
+One never looks substantial till one pays rates and taxes, and has a
+bill with one’s butcher!”
+
+Accordingly, without saying a word to anybody, Ferrers took a long lease
+of a large house, in one of those quiet streets that proclaim the owners
+do not wish to be made by fashionable situations--streets in which, if
+you have a large house, it is supposed to be because you can afford one.
+He was very particular in its being a respectable street--Great George
+Street, Westminster, was the one he selected.
+
+No frippery or baubles, common to the mansions of young bachelors--no
+buhl, and marquetrie, and Sevres china, and cabinet pictures,
+distinguished the large dingy drawing-rooms of Lumley Ferrers. He bought
+all the old furniture a bargain of the late tenant--tea-coloured chintz
+curtains, and chairs and sofas that were venerable and solemn with the
+accumulated dust of twenty-five years. The only things about which
+he was particular were a very long dining-table that would hold
+four-and-twenty, and a new mahogany sideboard. Somebody asked him why
+he cared about such articles. “I don’t know,” said he “but I observe
+all respectable family-men do--there must be something in it--I shall
+discover the secret by and by.”
+
+In this house did Mr. Ferrers ensconce himself with two middle-aged
+maidservants, and a man out of livery, whom he chose from a multitude
+of candidates, because the man looked especially well fed. Having thus
+settled himself, and told every one that the lease of his house was
+for sixty-three years, Lumley Ferrers made a little calculation of his
+probable expenditure, which he found, with good management, might amount
+to about one-fourth more than his income.
+
+“I shall take the surplus out of my capital,” said he, “and try the
+experiment for five years; if it don’t do, and pay me profitably, why,
+then either men are not to be lived upon, or Lumley Ferrers is a much
+duller clog than he thinks himself!”
+
+Mr. Ferrers had deeply studied the character of his uncle, as a prudent
+speculator studies the qualities of a mine in which he means to invest
+his capital, and much of his present proceedings was intended to act
+upon the uncle as well as upon the world. He saw that the more he could
+obtain for himself, not a noisy, social, fashionable reputation, but
+a good, sober, substantial one, the more highly Mr. Templeton would
+consider him, and the more likely he was to be made his uncle’s
+heir,--that is, provided Mrs. Templeton did not supersede the nepotal
+parasite by indigenous olive-branches. This last apprehension died away
+as time passed, and no signs of fertility appeared. And, accordingly,
+Ferrers thought he might prudently hazard more upon the game on which
+he now ventured to rely. There was one thing, however, that greatly
+disturbed his peace; Mr. Templeton, though harsh and austere in his
+manner to his wife, was evidently attached to her; and, above all, he
+cherished the fondest affection for his stepdaughter. He was as anxious
+for her health, her education, her little childish enjoyments, as if he
+had been not only her parent, but a very doting one. He could not bear
+her to be crossed or thwarted. Mr. Templeton, who had never spoiled
+anything before, not even an old pen (so careful, and calculating, and
+methodical was he), did his best to spoil this beautiful child whom he
+could not even have the vain luxury of thinking he had produced to the
+admiring world. Softly, exquisitely lovely was that little girl; and
+every day she increased in the charm of her person, and in the caressing
+fascination of her childish ways. Her temper was so sweet and docile,
+that fondness and petting, however injudiciously exhibited, only seemed
+yet more to bring out the colours of a grateful and tender nature.
+Perhaps the measured kindness of more reserved affection might have been
+the true way of spoiling one whose instincts were all for exacting and
+returning love. She was a plant that suns less warm might have nipped
+and chilled. But beneath an uncapricious and unclouded sunshine she
+sprang up in a luxurious bloom of heart and sweetness of disposition.
+
+Every one, even those who did not generally like children, delighted
+in this charming creature, excepting only Mr. Lumley Ferrers. But that
+gentleman, less mild than Pope’s Narcissa,--
+
+   “To make a wash, had gladly stewed the child!”
+
+He had seen how very common it is for a rich man, married late in life,
+to leave everything to a young widow and her children by her former
+marriage, when once attached to the latter; and he sensibly felt that
+he himself had but a slight hold over Templeton by the chain of the
+affections. He resolved, therefore, as much as possible, to alienate his
+uncle from his young wife; trusting that, as the influence of the wife
+was weakened, that of the child would be lessened also; and to raise in
+Templeton’s vanity and ambition an ally that might supply to himself
+the want of love. He pursued his twofold scheme with masterly art and
+address. He first sought to secure the confidence and regard of the
+melancholy and gentle mother; and in this--for she was peculiarly
+unsuspicious and inexperienced, he obtained signal and complete success.
+His frankness of manner, his deferential attention, the art with which
+he warded off from her the spleen or ill-humour of Mr. Templeton, the
+cheerfulness that his easy gaiety threw over a very gloomy house, made
+the poor lady hail his visits and trust in his friendship. Perhaps
+she was glad of any interruption to _tetes-a-tetes_ with a severe and
+ungenial husband, who had no sympathy for the sorrows, of whatever
+nature they might be, which preyed upon her, and who made it a point of
+morality to find fault wherever he could.
+
+The next step in Lumley’s policy was to arm Templeton’s vanity against
+his wife, by constantly refreshing his consciousness of the sacrifices
+he had made by marriage, and the certainty that he would have attained
+all his wishes had he chosen more prudently. By perpetually, but
+most judiciously, rubbing this sore point, he, as it were, fixed the
+irritability into Templeton’s constitution, and it reacted on all
+his thoughts, aspiring or domestic. Still, however, to Lumley’s great
+surprise and resentment, while Templeton cooled to his wife, he only
+warmed to her child. Lumley had not calculated enough upon the thirst
+and craving for affection in most human hearts; and Templeton, though
+not exactly an amiable man, had some excellent qualities; if he had less
+sensitively regarded the opinion of the world, he would neither have
+contracted the vocabulary of cant, nor sickened for a peerage--both his
+affectation of saintship, and his gnawing desire of rank, arose from an
+extraordinary and morbid deference to opinion, and a wish for worldly
+honours and respect, which he felt that his mere talents could not
+secure to him. But he was, at bottom, a kindly man--charitable to the
+poor, considerate to his servants, and had within him the want to love
+and be loved, which is one of the desires wherewith the atoms of the
+universe are cemented and harmonised. Had Mrs. Templeton evinced love
+to him, he might have defied all Lumley’s diplomacy, been consoled for
+worldly disadvantages, and been a good and even uxorious husband. But
+she evidently did not love him, though an admirable, patient, provident
+wife; and her daughter _did_ love him--love him as well even as she
+loved her mother; and the hard worldling would not have accepted a
+kingdom as the price of that little fountain of pure and ever-refreshing
+tenderness. Wise and penetrating as Lumley was, he never could
+thoroughly understand this weakness, as he called it; for we never know
+men entirely, unless we have complete sympathies with men in all their
+natural emotions; and Nature had left the workmanship of Lumley Ferrers
+unfinished and incomplete, by denying him the possibility of caring for
+anything but himself.
+
+His plan for winning Templeton’s esteem and deference was, however,
+completely triumphant. He took care that nothing in his _menage_ should
+appear “_extravagant_;” all was sober, quiet, and well-regulated.
+He declared that he had so managed as to live within his income: and
+Templeton receiving no hint for money, nor aware that Ferrers had on the
+Continent consumed a considerable portion of his means, believed him.
+Ferrers gave a great many dinners, but he did not go on that foolish
+plan which has been laid down by persons who pretend to know life, as
+a means of popularity--he did not profess to give dinners better than
+other people. He knew that, unless you are a very rich or a very great
+man, no folly is equal to that of thinking that you soften the hearts
+of your friends by soups _a la bisque_, and Johannisberg at a guinea a
+bottle. They all go away saying, “What right has that d----d fellow
+to give a better dinner than we do? What horrid taste! What ridiculous
+presumption.”
+
+No; though Ferrers himself was a most scientific epicure, and held
+the luxury of the palate at the highest possible price, he dieted his
+friends on what he termed “respectable fare.” His cook put plenty
+of flour into the oyster sauce; cod’s head and shoulders made his
+invariable fish; and four _entrees_, without flavour or pretence, were
+duly supplied by the pastry-cook, and carefully eschewed by the host.
+Neither did Mr. Ferrers affect to bring about him gay wits and brilliant
+talkers. He confined himself to men of substantial consideration, and
+generally took care to be himself the cleverest person present; while
+he turned the conversation on serious matters crammed for the
+occasion--politics, stocks, commerce, and the criminal code. Pruning
+his gaiety, though he retained his frankness, he sought to be known as
+a highly-informed, painstaking man, who would be sure to rise. His
+connections, and a certain nameless charm about him, consisting chiefly
+in a pleasant countenance, a bold yet winning candour, and the absence
+of all _hauteur_ or pretence, enabled him to assemble round this
+plain table, which, if it gratified no taste, wounded no self-love, a
+sufficient number of public men of rank, and eminent men of business, to
+answer his purpose. The situation he had chosen, so near the Houses of
+Parliament, was convenient to politicians, and, by degrees, the large
+dingy drawing-rooms became a frequent resort for public men to talk over
+those thousand underplots by which a party is served or attached. Thus,
+though not in parliament himself, Ferrers became insensibly associated
+with parliamentary men and things, and the ministerial party, whose
+politics he espoused, praised him highly, made use of him, and meant,
+some day or other, to do something for him.
+
+While the career of this able and unprincipled man thus opened--and
+of course the opening was not made in a day--Ernest Maltravers was
+ascending by a rough, thorny, and encumbered path, to that eminence on
+which the monuments of men are built. His success in public life was
+not brilliant nor sudden. For, though he had eloquence and knowledge, he
+disdained all oratorical devices; and though he had passion and energy,
+he could scarcely be called a warm partisan. He met with much envy, and
+many obstacles; and the gracious and buoyant sociality of temper
+and manners that had, in early youth, made him the idol of his
+contemporaries at school or college, had long since faded away into a
+cold, settled, and lofty, though gentle reserve, which did not attract
+towards him the animal spirits of the herd. But though he spoke seldom,
+and heard many, with half his powers, more enthusiastically cheered, he
+did not fail of commanding attention and respect; and though no darling
+of cliques and parties, yet in that great body of the people who were
+ever the audience and tribunal to which, in letters or in politics,
+Maltravers appealed, there was silently growing up, and spreading wide,
+a belief in his upright intentions, his unpurchasable honour, and his
+correct and well-considered views. He felt that his name was safely
+invested, though the return for the capital was slow and moderate. He
+was contented to abide his time.
+
+Every day he grew more attached to that true philosophy which makes a
+man, as far as the world will permit, a world to himself; and from the
+height of a tranquil and serene self-esteem, he felt the sun shine above
+him, when malignant clouds spread sullen and ungenial below. He did not
+despise or wilfully shock opinion, neither did he fawn upon and flatter
+it. Where he thought the world should be humoured, he humoured--where
+contemned, he contemned it. There are many cases in which an honest,
+well-educated, high-hearted individual is a much better judge than the
+multitude of what is right and what is wrong; and in these matters he is
+not worth three straws if he suffer the multitude to bully or coax him
+out of his judgment. The Public, if you indulge it, is a most damnable
+gossip, thrusting its nose into people’s concerns, where it has no right
+to make or meddle; and in those things, where the Public is impertinent,
+Maltravers scorned and resisted its interference as haughtily as he
+would the interference of any insolent member of the insolent whole.
+It was this mixture of deep love and profound respect for the eternal
+PEOPLE, and of calm, passionless disdain for that capricious charlatan,
+the momentary PUBLIC, which made Ernest Maltravers an original and
+solitary thinker; and an actor, in reality modest and benevolent, in
+appearance arrogant and unsocial. “Pauperism, in contradistinction to
+poverty,” he was wont to say, “is the dependence upon other people for
+existence, not on our own exertions; there is a moral pauperism in
+the man who is dependent on others for that support of moral
+life--self-respect.”
+
+Wrapped in this philosophy, he pursued his haughty and lonesome way,
+and felt that in the deep heart of mankind, when prejudices and envies
+should die off, there would be a sympathy with his motives and his
+career. So far as his own health was concerned, the experiment
+had answered. No mere drudgery of business--late hours and dull
+speeches--can produce the dread exhaustion which follows the efforts
+of the soul to mount into the higher air of severe thought or intense
+imagination. Those faculties which had been overstrained now lay
+fallow--and the frame rapidly regained its tone. Of private comfort and
+inspiration Ernest knew but little. He gradually grew estranged from his
+old friend Ferrers, as their habits became opposed. Cleveland lived more
+and more in the country, and was too well satisfied with his quondam
+pupil’s course of life and progressive reputation to trouble him with
+exhortation or advice. Cesarini had grown a literary lion, whose genius
+was vehemently lauded by all the reviews--on the same principle as that
+which induces us to praise foreign singers or dead men;--we must praise
+something, and we don’t like to praise those who jostle ourselves.
+Cesarini had therefore grown prodigiously conceited--swore that England
+was the only country for true merit; and no longer concealed his jealous
+anger at the wider celebrity of Maltravers. Ernest saw him squandering
+away his substance, and prostituting his talents to drawing-room
+trifles, with a compassionate sigh. He sought to warn him, but Cesarini
+listened to him with such impatience that he resigned the office of
+monitor. He wrote to De Montaigne, who succeeded no better. Cesarini was
+bent on playing his own game. And to one game, without a metaphor, he
+had at last come. His craving for excitement vented itself at Hazard,
+and his remaining guineas melted daily away.
+
+But De Montaigne’s letters to Maltravers consoled him for the loss of
+less congenial friends. The Frenchman was now an eminent and celebrated
+man; and his appreciation of Maltravers was sweeter to the latter than
+would have been the huzzas of crowds. But, all this while, his vanity
+was pleased and his curiosity roused by the continued correspondence of
+his unseen Egeria. That correspondence (if so it may be called, being
+all on one side) had now gone on for a considerable time, and he
+was still wholly unable to discover the author: its tone had of late
+altered--it had become more sad and subdued--it spoke of the hollowness
+as well as the rewards of fame; and, with a touch of true womanly
+sentiment, often hinted more at the rapture of soothing dejection,
+than of sharing triumph. In all these letters, there was the undeniable
+evidence of high intellect and deep feeling; they excited a strong and
+keen interest in Maltravers, yet the interest was not that which made
+him wish to discover, in order that he might love, the writer. They
+were for the most part too full of the irony and bitterness of a man’s
+spirit, to fascinate one who considered that gentleness was the essence
+of a woman’s strength. Temper spoke in them, no less than mind and
+heart, and it was not the sort of temper which a man who loves women to
+be womanly could admire.
+
+“I hear you often spoken of” (ran one of these strange epistles), “and I
+am almost equally angry whether fools presume to praise or to blame you.
+This miserable world we live in, how I loathe and disdain it!--yet I
+desire you to serve and to master it! Weak contradiction, effeminate
+paradox! Oh! rather a thousand times that you would fly from its mean
+temptations and poor rewards!--if the desert were your dwelling-place
+and you wished one minister, I could renounce all--wealth, flattery,
+repute, womanhood--to serve you.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+“I once admired you for your genius. My disease has fastened on me,
+and I now almost worship you for yourself. I have seen you, Ernest
+Maltravers,--seen you often,--and when you never suspected that these
+eyes were on you. Now that I have seen, I understand you better. We can
+not judge men by their books and deeds. Posterity can know nothing of
+the beings of the past. A thousand books never written--a thousand deeds
+never done--are in the eyes and lips of the few greater than the herd.
+In that cold, abstracted gaze, that pale and haughty brow, I read the
+disdain of obstacles, which is worthy of one who is confident of the
+goal. But my eyes fill with tears when I survey you!--you are sad, you
+are alone! If failures do not mortify you, success does not elevate. Oh,
+Maltravers, I, woman as I am, and living in a narrow circle, I, even
+I, know at last that to have desires nobler, and ends more august, than
+others, is but to surrender waking life to morbid and melancholy dreams.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+“Go more into the world, Maltravers--go more into the world, or quit
+it altogether. Your enemies must be met; they accumulate, they grow
+strong--you are too tranquil, too slow in your steps towards the
+prize which should be yours, to satisfy my impatience, to satisfy
+your friends. Be less refined in your ambition that you may be more
+immediately useful. The feet of clay after all are the swiftest in the
+race. Even Lumley Ferrers will outstrip you if you do not take heed.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+“Why do I run on thus!--you--you love another, yet you are not less
+the ideal that I could love--if ever I loved any one. You love--and
+yet--well--no matter.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+ “Well, but this is being only an official nobleman. No matter,
+  ‘tis still being a nobleman, and that’s his aim.”
+    _Anonymous writer of 1772_.
+
+ “La musique est le seul des talens qui jouissent de lui-meme;
+  tons les autres veulent des temoins.” *--MARMONTEL.
+
+* Music is the sole talent which gives pleasure of itself; all the
+others require witnesses.
+
+ “Thus the slow ox would gaudy trappings claim.”--HORACE.
+
+MR. TEMPLETON had not obtained his peerage, and, though he had met with
+no direct refusal, nor made even a direct application to headquarters,
+he was growing sullen. He had great parliamentary influence, not close
+borough, illegitimate influence, but very proper orthodox influence of
+character, wealth, and so forth. He could return one member at least
+for a city--he could almost return one member for a county, and in
+three boroughs any activity on his part could turn the scale in a close
+contest. The ministers were strong, but still they could not afford
+to lose supporters hitherto zealous--the example of desertion is
+contagious. In the town which Templeton had formerly represented, and
+which he now almost commanded, a vacancy suddenly occurred--a candidate
+started on the opposition side and commenced a canvass; to the
+astonishment and panic of the Secretary of the Treasury, Templeton
+put forward no one, and his interest remained dormant. Lord Saxingham
+hurried to Lumley.
+
+“My dear fellow, what is this?--what can your uncle be about? We shall
+lose this place--one of our strongholds. Bets run even.”
+
+“Why, you see, you have all behaved very ill to my uncle--I am really
+sorry for it, but I can do nothing.”
+
+“What, this confounded peerage! Will that content him, and nothing short
+of it?”
+
+“Nothing.”
+
+“He must have it, by Jove!”
+
+“And even that may come too late.”
+
+“Ha! do you think so?”
+
+“Will you leave the matter to me?”
+
+“Certainly--you are a monstrous clever fellow, and we all esteem you.”
+
+“Sit down and write as I dictate, my dear lord.”
+
+“Well,” said Lord Saxingham, seating himself at Lumley’s enormous
+writing-table--“well, go on.”
+
+“_My dear Mr. Templeton_--”
+
+“Too familiar,” said Lord Saxingham.
+
+“Not a bit; go on.”
+
+“_My dear Mr. Templeton:_--
+
+“_We are anxious to secure your parliamentary influence in C------ to
+the proper quarter, namely, to your own family, as the best defenders of
+the administration, which you honour by your support. We wish signally,
+at the same time, to express our confidence in your principles, and our
+gratitude for your countenance._”
+
+“D-----d sour countenance!” muttered Lord Saxingham.
+
+“_Accordingly,_” continued Ferrers, “_as one whose connection with you
+permits the liberty, allow me to request that you will suffer our joint
+relation, Mr. Ferrers, to be put into immediate nomination._”
+
+Lord Saxingham threw down the pen and laughed for two minutes without
+ceasing. “Capital, Lumley, capital--Very odd I did not think of it
+before.”
+
+“Each man for himself, and God for us all,” returned Lumley, gravely:
+“pray go on, my dear lord.”
+
+“_We are sure you could not have a representative that would, more
+faithfully reflect your own opinions and our interests. One word more. A
+creation of peers will probably take place in the spring, among which
+I am sure your name would be to his Majesty a gratifying addition; the
+title will of course be secured to your sons--and failing the latter, to
+your nephew._
+
+     “_With great regard and respect,_
+
+        “_Truly yours,_
+
+          “_SAXINGHAM._”
+
+“There, inscribe that ‘Private and confidential,’ and send it express to
+my uncle’s villa.”
+
+“It shall be done, my dear Lumley--and this contents me as much as it
+does you. You are really a man to do us credit. You think it will be
+arranged?”
+
+“No doubt of it.”
+
+“Well, good day. Lumley, come to me when it is all settled: Florence is
+always glad to see you; she says no one amuses her more. And I am
+sure that is rare praise, for she is a strange girl,--quite a Timon in
+petticoats.”
+
+Away went Lord Saxingham.
+
+“Florence glad to see me!” said Lumley, throwing his arms behind him,
+and striding to and fro the room--“Scheme the Second begins to smile
+upon me behind the advancing shadow of Scheme One. If I can but succeed
+in keeping away other suitors from my fair cousin until I am in a
+condition to propose myself, why, I may carry off the greatest match in
+the three kingdoms. _Courage, mon brave Ferrers, courage!_”
+
+It was late that evening when Ferrers arrived at his uncle’s villa. He
+found Mrs. Templeton in the drawing-room seated at the piano. He entered
+gently; she did not hear him, and continued at the instrument. Her voice
+was so sweet and rich, her taste so pure, that Ferrers, who was a good
+judge of music, stood in delighted surprise. Often as he had now been
+a visitor, even an inmate, at the house, he had never before heard Mrs.
+Templeton play any but sacred airs, and this was one of the popular
+songs of sentiment. He perceived that her feeling at last overpowered
+her voice, and she paused abruptly, and turning round, her face was so
+eloquent of emotion, that Ferrers was forcibly struck by its expression.
+He was not a man apt to feel curiosity for anything not immediately
+concerning himself; but he did feel curious about this melancholy and
+beautiful woman. There was in her usual aspect that inexpressible look
+of profound resignation which betokens a lasting remembrance of a bitter
+past: a prematurely blighted heart spoke in her eyes, in her smile, her
+languid and joyless step. But she performed the routine of her quiet
+duties with a calm and conscientious regularity which showed that grief
+rather depressed than disturbed her thoughts. If her burden were heavy,
+custom seemed to have reconciled her to bear it without repining; and
+the emotion which Ferrers now traced in her soft and harmonious features
+was of a nature he had only once witnessed before--viz., on the first
+night he had seen her, when poetry, which is the key of memory, had
+evidently opened a chamber haunted by mournful and troubled ghosts.
+
+“Ah! dear madam,” said Ferrers, advancing, as he found himself
+discovered, “I trust I do not disturb you. My visit is unseasonable; but
+my uncle--where is he?”
+
+“He has been in town all the morning; he said he should dine out, and I
+now expect him every minute.”
+
+“You have been endeavouring to charm away the sense of his absence. Dare
+I ask you to continue to play? It is seldom that I hear a voice so
+sweet and skill so consummate. You must have been instructed by the best
+Italian masters.”
+
+“No,” said Mrs. Templeton, with a very slight colour in her delicate
+cheek, “I learned young, and of one who loved music and felt it; but who
+was not a foreigner.”
+
+“Will you sing me that song again?--you give the words a beauty I never
+discovered in them; yet they (as well as the music itself), are by my
+poor friend whom Mr. Templeton does not like--Maltravers.”
+
+“Are they his also?” said Mrs. Templeton, with emotion; “it is strange I
+did not know it. I heard the air in the streets, and it struck me much.
+I inquired the name of the song and bought it--it is very strange!”
+
+“What is strange?”
+
+“That there is a kind of language in your friend’s music and poetry
+which comes home to me, like words I have heard years ago! Is he young,
+this Mr. Maltravers?”
+
+“Yes, he is still young.”
+
+“And, and--”
+
+Here Mrs. Templeton was interrupted by the entrance of her husband.
+He held the letter from Lord Saxingham--it was yet unopened. He seemed
+moody; but that was common with him. He coldly shook hands with Lumley;
+nodded to his wife, found fault with the fire, and throwing himself into
+his easy-chair, said, “So, Lumley, I think I was a fool for taking your
+advice--and hanging back about this new election. I see by the evening
+papers that there is shortly to be a creation of peers. If I had shown
+activity on behalf of the government I might have shamed them into
+gratitude.”
+
+“I think I was right, sir,” replied Lumley; “public men are often
+alarmed into gratitude, seldom shamed into it. Firm votes, like old
+friends, are most valued when we think we are about to lose them; but
+what is that letter in your hand?”
+
+“Oh, some begging petition, I suppose.”
+
+“Pardon me--it has an official look.” Templeton put on his spectacles,
+raised the letter, examined the address and seal, hastily opened it,
+and broke into an exclamation very like an oath: when he had
+concluded--“Give me your hand, nephew--the thing is settled--I am to
+have the peerage. You were right--ha, ha!--my dear wife, you will be my
+lady, think of that--aren’t you glad?--why don’t your ladyship smile?
+Where’s the child--where is she, I say?”
+
+“Gone to bed, sir,” said Mrs. Templeton, half frightened.
+
+“Gone to bed! I must go and kiss her. Gone to bed, has she? Light that
+candle, Lumley.” [Here Mr. Templeton rang the bell.] “John,” said he,
+as the servant entered,--“John, tell James to go the first thing in the
+morning to Baxter’s, and tell him not to paint my chariot till he hears
+from me. I must go kiss the child--I must, really.”
+
+“D--- the child,” muttered Lumley, as, after giving the candle to his
+uncle, he turned to the fire; “what the deuce has she got to do with
+the matter? Charming little girl--yours, madam! how I love her! My uncle
+dotes on her--no wonder!”
+
+“He is, indeed, very, very, fond of her,” said Mrs. Templeton, with a
+sigh that seemed to come from the depth of her heart.
+
+“Did he take a fancy to her before you were married?”
+
+“Yes, I believe--oh yes, certainly.”
+
+“Her own father could not be more fond of her.”
+
+Mrs. Templeton made no answer, but lighted her candle, and wishing
+Lumley good night, glided from the room.
+
+“I wonder if my grave aunt and my grave uncle took a bite at the apple
+before they bought the right of the tree. It looks suspicious; yet no,
+it can’t be; there is nothing of the seducer or the seductive about the
+old fellow. It is not likely--here he comes.”
+
+In came Templeton, and his eyes were moist, and his brow relaxed.
+
+“And how is the little angel, sir?” asked Ferrers.
+
+“She kissed me, though I woke her up; children are usually cross when
+wakened.”
+
+“Are they?--little dears! Well, sir, so I was right, then; may I see the
+letter?”
+
+“There it is.”
+
+Ferrers drew his chair to the fire, and read his own production with all
+the satisfaction of an anonymous author.
+
+“How kind!--how considerate!--how delicately put!--a double favour! But
+perhaps, after all, it does not express your wishes.”
+
+“In what way?”
+
+“Why--why--about myself.”
+
+“_You!_--is there anything about _you_ in it?--I did not observe
+_that_--let me see.”
+
+“Uncles never selfish!--mem. for commonplace book!” thought Ferrers.
+
+The uncle knit his brows as he re-perused the letter. “This won’t do,
+Lumley,” said he very shortly, when he had done.
+
+“A seat in parliament is too much honour for a poor nephew, then, sir?”
+ said Lumley, very bitterly, though he did not feel at all bitter; but
+it was the proper tone. “I have done all in my power to advance your
+ambition, and you will not even lend a hand to forward me one step in my
+career. But, forgive me, sir, I have no right to expect it.”
+
+“Lumley,” replied Templeton, kindly, “you mistake me. I think much more
+highly of you than I did--much: there is a steadiness, a sobriety about
+you most praiseworthy, and you shall go into parliament if you wish it;
+but not for C------. I will give my interest there to some other friend
+of the government, and in return they can give you a treasury borough!
+That is the same thing to you.”
+
+Lumley was agreeably surprised--he pressed his uncle’s hand warmly, and
+thanked him cordially. Mr. Templeton proceeded to explain to him that it
+was inconvenient and expensive sitting for places where one’s family was
+known, and Lumley fully subscribed to all.
+
+“As for the settlement of the peerage, that is all right,” said
+Templeton; and then he sank into a reverie, from which he broke
+joyously--“yes, that is all right. I have projects, objects--this
+may unite them all--nothing can be better--you will be the next
+lord--what--I say, what title shall we have?”
+
+“Oh, take a sounding one--you have very little landed property, I
+think?”
+
+“Two thousand a year in ------shire, bought a bargain.”
+
+“What’s the name of the place?”
+
+“Grubley.”
+
+“Lord Grubley!--Baron Grubley of Grubley--oh, atrocious! Who had the
+place before you?”
+
+“Bought it of Mr. Sheepshanks--very old family.”
+
+“But surely some old Norman once had the place?”
+
+“Norman, yes! Henry the Second gave it to his barber--Bertram Courval.”
+
+“That’s it!--that’s it! Lord de Courval--singular coincidence!--descent
+from the old line. Herald’s College soon settle all that. Lord de
+Courval!--nothing can sound better. There must be a village or hamlet
+still called Courval about the property.”
+
+“I am afraid not. There is Coddle End!”
+
+“Coddle End!--Coddle End!--the very thing, sir--the very thing--clear
+corruption from Courval!--Lord de Courval of Courval! Superb! Ha! ha!”
+
+“Ha! ha!” laughed Templeton, and he had hardly laughed before since he
+was thirty.
+
+The relations sat long and conversed familiarly. Ferrers slept at the
+villa, and his sleep was sound; for he thought little of plans once
+formed and half executed; it was the hunt that kept him awake, and he
+slept like a hound when the prey was down. Not so Templeton, who did
+not close his eyes all night.--“Yes, yes,” thought he, “I must get
+the fortune and the title in one line by a prudent management. Ferrers
+deserves what I mean to do for him. Steady, good-natured, frank, and
+will get on--yes, yes, I see it all. Meanwhile I did well to prevent
+his standing for C------; might pick up gossip about Mrs. T., and other
+things that might be unpleasant. Ah, I’m a shrewd fellow!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ “_Lauzun._--There, Marquis, there, I’ve done it.
+  _Montespan._--Done it! yes! Nice doings!”
+         _The Duchess de la Valliere_.
+
+LUMLEY hastened to strike while the iron was hot. The next morning he
+went straight to the Treasury--saw the managing secretary, a clever,
+sharp man, who, like Ferrers, carried off intrigue and manoeuvre by a
+blunt, careless, bluff manner.
+
+Ferrers announced that he was to stand for the free, respectable, open
+city of C------, with an electoral population of 2,500. A very showy
+place it was for a member in the old ante-reform times, and was
+considered a thoroughly independent borough. The secretary congratulated
+and complimented him.
+
+“We have had losses lately in _our_ elections among the larger
+constituencies,” said Lumley.
+
+“We have indeed--three towns lost in the last six months. Members do die
+so very unseasonably.”
+
+“Is Lord Staunch yet provided for?” asked Lumley. Now Lord Staunch was
+one of the popular show-fight great guns of the administration--not in
+office, but that most useful person to all governments, an out-and-out
+supporter upon the most independent principles--who was known to have
+refused place and to value himself on independence--a man who helped the
+government over the stile when it was seized with a temporary lameness,
+and who carried “great weight with him in the country.” Lord Staunch had
+foolishly thrown up a close borough in order to contest a large city,
+and had failed in the attempt. His failure was everywhere cited as a
+proof of the growing unpopularity of ministers.
+
+“Is Lord Staunch yet provided for?” asked Lumley.
+
+“Why, he must have his old seat--Three-Oaks. Three-Oaks is a nice, quiet
+little place; most respectable constituency--all Staunch’s own family.”
+
+“Just the thing for him; yet, ‘tis a pity that he did not wait to stand
+for C------; my uncle’s interest would have secured him.”
+
+“Ay, I thought so the moment C------ was vacant. However, it is too late
+now.”
+
+“It would be a great triumph if Lord Staunch could show that a large
+constituency volunteered to elect him without expense.”
+
+“Without expense!--Ah, yes, indeed! It would prove that purity of
+election still exists--that British institutions are still upheld.”
+
+“It might be done, Mr. ------.”
+
+“Why, I thought that you--”
+
+“Were to stand--that is true--and it will be difficult to manage my
+uncle; but he loves me much--you know I am his heir--I believe I could
+do it; that is, if you think it would be _a very great advantage_ to the
+party, and _a very great service_ to the government.”
+
+“Why, Mr. Ferrers, it would indeed be both.”
+
+“And in that case I could have Three-Oaks.”
+
+“I see--exactly so; but to give up so respectable a seat--really it is a
+sacrifice.”
+
+“Say no more, it shall be done. A deputation shall wait on Lord Staunch
+directly. I will see my uncle, and a despatch shall be sent down to
+C------ to-night; at least, I hope so. I must not be too confident.
+My uncle is an old man, nobody but myself can manage him; I’ll go this
+instant.”
+
+“You may be sure your kindness will be duly appreciated.”
+
+Lumley shook hands cordially with the secretary and retired. The
+secretary was not “humbugged,” nor did Lumley expect he should be. But
+the secretary noted this of Lumley Ferrers (and that gentleman’s object
+was gained), that Lumley Ferrers was a man who looked out for office,
+and if he did tolerably well in parliament, that Lumley Ferrers was a
+man who ought to be _pushed_.
+
+Very shortly afterwards the _Gazette_ announced the election of Lord
+Staunch for C------, after a sharp but decisive contest. The ministerial
+journals rang with exulting paeans; the opposition ones called the
+electors of C------ all manner of hard names, and declared that Mr.
+Stout, Lord Staunch’s opponent, would petition--which he never did. In
+the midst of the hubbub, Mr. Lumley Ferrers quietly and unobservedly
+crept into the representation of Three-Oaks.
+
+On the night of his election he went to Lord Saxingham’s; but what there
+happened deserves another chapter.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+ “Je connois des princes du sang, des princes etrangers, des
+  grands seigneurs, des ministres d’etat, des magistrats, et
+  des philosophes qui fileroient pour l’amour de vous. En
+  pouvez-vous demander davantage?” *
+        _Lettres de Madame de Sevigne_
+
+* I know princes of the blood, foreign princes, great lords, ministers
+of state, magistrates, and philosophers who would even spin for love of
+you. What can you ask more?
+
+ “_Lindore._ I--I believe it will choke me. I’m in love * * * Now
+hold your tongue. Hold your tongue, I say.
+
+ “_Dalner._ You in love! Ha! ha!
+
+ “_Lind._ There, he laughs.
+
+ “_Dal._ No; I am really sorry for you.”
+
+        _German Play (False Delicacy)_.
+
+   *  *  *  “What is here?
+
+            Gold.”--SHAKSPEARE.
+
+IT happened that that evening Maltravers had, for the first time,
+accepted one of many invitations with which Lord Saxingham had honoured
+him. His lordship and Maltravers were of different political parties,
+nor were they in other respects adapted to each other. Lord Saxingham
+was a clever man in his way, but worldly even to a proverb among worldly
+people. That “man was born to walk erect and look upon the stars,” is
+an eloquent fallacy that Lord Saxingham might suffice to disprove. He
+seemed born to walk with a stoop; and if he ever looked upon any
+stars, they were those which go with a garter. Though of celebrated and
+historical ancestry, great rank, and some personal reputation, he had
+all the ambition of a _parvenu_. He had a strong regard for office, not
+so much from the sublime affection for that sublime thing,--power over
+the destinies of a glorious nation,--as because it added to that vulgar
+thing--importance in his own set. He looked on his cabinet uniform as
+a beadle looks on his gold lace. He also liked patronage, secured good
+things to distant connections, got on his family to the remotest degree
+of relationship; in short, he was of the earth, earthy. He did not
+comprehend Maltravers; and Maltravers, who every day grew prouder and
+prouder, despised him. Still, Lord Saxingham was told that Maltravers
+was a rising man, and he thought it well to be civil to rising men, of
+whatever party; besides, his vanity was flattered by having men who are
+talked of in his train. He was too busy and too great a personage to
+think Maltravers could be other than sincere, when he declared himself,
+in his notes, “very sorry,” or “much concerned,” to forego the honour of
+dining with Lord Saxingham on the, &c., &c.; and therefore continued
+his invitations, till Maltravers, from that fatality which undoubtedly
+regulates and controls us, at last accepted the proffered distinction.
+
+He arrived late--most of the guests were assembled; and, after
+exchanging a few words with his host, Ernest fell back into the general
+group, and found himself in the immediate neighbourhood of Lady Florence
+Lascelles. This lady had never much pleased Maltravers, for he was not
+fond of masculine or coquettish heroines, and Lady Florence seemed to
+him to merit both epithets; therefore, though he had met her often since
+the first day he had been introduced to her, he had usually contented
+himself with a distant bow or a passing salutation. But now, as he
+turned round and saw her, she was, for a miracle, sitting alone; and
+in her most dazzling and noble countenance there was so evident an
+appearance of ill health, that he was struck and touched by it. In fact,
+beautiful as she was, both in face and form, there was something in the
+eye and the bloom of Lady Florence, which a skilful physician would have
+seen with prophetic pain. And, whenever occasional illness paled the
+roses of the cheek, and sobered the play of the lips, even an ordinary
+observer would have thought of the old commonplace proverb--“that the
+brightest beauty has the briefest life.” It was some sentiment of
+this kind, perhaps, that now awakened the sympathy of Maltravers. He
+addressed her with more marked courtesy than usual, and took a seat by
+her side.
+
+“You have been to the House, I suppose, Mr. Maltravers?” said Lady
+Florence.
+
+“Yes, for a short time; it is not one of our field nights--no division
+was expected; and by this time, I dare say, the House has been counted
+out.”
+
+“Do you like the life?”
+
+“It has excitement,” said Maltravers, evasively.
+
+“And the excitement is of a noble character?”
+
+“Scarcely so, I fear--it is so made up of mean and malignant
+motives,--there is in it so much jealousy of our friends, so much
+unfairness to our enemies;--such readiness to attribute to others the
+basest objects,--such willingness to avail ourselves of the poorest
+stratagems! The ends may be great, but the means are very ambiguous.”
+
+“I knew _you_ would feel this,” exclaimed Lady Florence, with a
+heightened colour.
+
+“Did you?” said Maltravers, rather interested as well as surprised. “I
+scarcely imagined it possible that you would deign to divine secrets so
+insignificant.”
+
+“You did not do me justice, then,” returned Lady Florence, with an arch
+yet half-painful smile; “for--but I was about to be impertinent.”
+
+“Nay, say on.”
+
+“For--then--I do not imagine you to be one apt to do injustice to
+yourself.”
+
+“Oh, you consider me presumptuous and arrogant; but that is common
+report, and you do right, perhaps, to believe it.”
+
+“Was there ever any one unconscious of his own merit?” asked Lady
+Florence, proudly. “They who distrust themselves have good reason for
+it.”
+
+“You seek to cure the wound you inflicted,” returned Maltravers,
+smiling.
+
+“No; what I said was an apology for myself, as well as for you. You need
+no words to vindicate you; you are a man, and can bear out all arrogance
+with the royal motto _Dieu et mon droit_. With you deeds can support
+pretension; but I am a woman--it was a mistake of Nature.”
+
+“But what triumphs that man can achieve bring so immediate, so palpable
+a reward as those won by a woman, beautiful and admired--who finds every
+room an empire, and every class her subjects?”
+
+“It is a despicable realm.”
+
+“What!--to command--to win--to bow to your worship--the greatest, and
+the highest, and the sternest; to own slaves in those whom men recognise
+as their lords! Is such a power despicable? If so, what power is to be
+envied?”
+
+Lady Florence turned quickly round to Maltravers, and fixed on him her
+large dark eyes, as if she would read into his very heart. She turned
+away with a blush and a slight frown--“There is mockery on your lip,”
+ said she.
+
+Before Maltravers could answer, dinner was announced, and a foreign
+ambassador claimed the hand of Lady Florence. Maltravers saw a young
+lady with gold oats in her very light hair, fall to his lot, and
+descended to the dining-room, thinking more of Lady Florence Lascelles
+than he had ever done before.
+
+He happened to sit nearly opposite to the young mistress of the house
+(Lord Saxingham, as the reader knows, was a widower and Lady Florence
+an only child); and Maltravers was that day in one of those felicitous
+moods in which our animal spirits search and carry up, as it were,
+to the surface, our intellectual gifts and acquisitions. He conversed
+generally and happily; but once, when he turned his eyes to appeal to
+Lady Florence for her opinion on some point in discussion, he caught her
+gaze fixed upon him with an expression that checked the current of his
+gaiety, and cast him into a curious and bewildered reverie. In that gaze
+there was earnest and cordial admiration; but it was mixed with so much
+mournfulness, that the admiration lost its eloquence, and he who noticed
+it was rather saddened than flattered.
+
+After dinner, when Maltravers sought the drawing-rooms, he found
+them filled with the customary snob of good society. In one corner he
+discovered Castruccio Cesarini, playing on a guitar, slung across his
+breast with a blue riband. The Italian sang well; many young ladies were
+grouped round him, amongst others Florence Lascelles. Maltravers,
+fond as he was of music, looked upon Castruccio’s performance as a
+disagreeable exhibition. He had a Quixotic idea of the dignity of
+talent; and though himself of a musical science, and a melody of voice
+that would have thrown the room into ecstasies, he would as soon have
+turned juggler or tumbler for polite amusement, as contend for the
+bravos of a drawing-room. It was because he was one of the proudest men
+in the world, that Maltravers was one of the least _vain_. He did
+not care a rush for applause in small things. But Cesarini would have
+summoned the whole world to see him play at push-pin, if he thought the
+played it well.
+
+“Beautiful! divine! charming!” cried the young ladies, as Cesarini
+ceased; and Maltravers observed that Florence praised more earnestly
+than the rest, and that Cesarini’s dark eye sparkled, and his pale cheek
+flushed with unwonted brilliancy. Florence turned to Maltravers, and the
+Italian, following her eyes, frowned darkly.
+
+“You know the Signor Cesarini,” said Florence, joining Maltravers. “He
+is an interesting and gifted person.”
+
+“Unquestionably. I grieve to see him wasting his talents upon a soil
+that may yield a few short-lived flowers, without one useful plant or
+productive fruit.”
+
+“He enjoys the passing hour, Mr. Maltravers; and sometimes, when I see
+the mortifications that await sterner labour, I think he is right.”
+
+“Hush!” said Maltravers; “his eyes are on us--he is listening
+breathlessly for every word you utter. I fear that you have made an
+unconscious conquest of a poet’s heart; and if so, he purchases the
+enjoyment of the passing hour at a fearful price.”
+
+“Nay,” said Lady Florence, indifferently, “he is one of those to
+whom the fancy supplies the place of the heart. And if I give him an
+inspiration, it will be an equal luxury to him whether his lyre be
+strung to hope or disappointment. The sweetness of his verses will
+compensate to him for any bitterness in actual life.”
+
+“There are two kinds of love,” answered Maltravers,--“love and
+self-love; the wounds of the last are often most incurable in those
+who appear least vulnerable to the first. Ah, Lady Florence, were I
+privileged to play the monitor, I would venture on one warning, however
+much it might offend you.”
+
+“And that is--”
+
+“To forbear coquetry.”
+
+Maltravers smiled as he spoke, but it was gravely--and at the same time
+he moved gently away. But Lady Florence laid her hand on his arm.
+
+“Mr. Maltravers,” said she, very softly, and with a kind of faltering in
+her tone, “am I wrong to say that I am anxious for your good opinion?
+Do not judge me harshly. I am soured, discontented, unhappy. I have no
+sympathy with the world. These men whom I see around me--what are
+they? the mass of them unfeeling and silken egotists--ill-judging,
+ill-educated, well-dressed: the few who are called distinguished--how
+selfish in their ambition, how passionless in their pursuits! Am I to
+be blamed if I sometimes exert a power over such as these, which rather
+proves my scorn of them than my own vanity?”
+
+“I have no right to argue with you.”
+
+“Yes, argue with me, convince me, guide me--Heaven knows that, impetuous
+and haughty as I am, I need a guide,”--and Lady Florence’s eyes swam
+with tears. Ernest’s prejudices against her were greatly shaken: he
+was even somewhat dazzled by her beauty, and touched by her unexpected
+gentleness; but still, his heart was not assailed, and he replied almost
+coldly, after a short pause:
+
+“Dear Lady Florence, look round the world--who so much to be envied
+as yourself? What sources of happiness and pride are open to you! Why,
+then, make to yourself causes of discontent?--why be scornful of those
+who cross not your path? Why not look with charity upon God’s less
+endowed children, beneath you as they may seem? What consolation have
+you in hurting the hearts or the vanities of others? Do you raise
+yourself even in your own estimation? You affect to be above your
+sex--yet what character do you despise more in women than that which you
+assume? Semiramis should not be a coquette. There now, I have offended
+you--I confess I am very rude.”
+
+“I am not offended,” said Florence, almost struggling with her tears;
+and she added inly, “Ah, I am too happy!”--There are some lips from
+which even the proudest women love to hear the censure which appears to
+disprove indifference.
+
+It was at this time that Lumley Ferrers, flushed with the success of his
+schemes and projects, entered the room; and his quick eye fell upon
+that corner, in which he detected what appeared to him a very alarming
+flirtation between his rich cousin and Ernest Maltravers. He advanced to
+the spot, and, with his customary frankness, extended a hand to each.
+
+“Ah, my dear and fair cousin, give me your congratulations, and ask
+me for my first frank, to be bound up in a collection of autographs by
+distinguished senators--it will sell high one of these days. Your most
+obedient, Mr. Maltravers;--how we shall laugh in our sleeves at the
+humbug of politics, when you and I, the best friends in the world, sit
+_vis-a-vis_ on opposite benches. But why, Lady Florence, have you never
+introduced me to your pet Italian? _Allons_! I am his match in Alfieri,
+whom, of course, he swears by, and whose verses, by the way, seem cut
+out of box-wood--the hardest material for turning off that sort of
+machinery that invention ever hit on.”
+
+Thus saying, Ferrers contrived, as he thought, very cleverly, to divide
+a pair that he much feared were justly formed to meet by nature--and, to
+his great joy, Maltravers shortly afterwards withdrew.
+
+Ferrers, with the happy ease that belonged to his complacent, though
+plotting character, soon made Cesarini at home with him; and two or
+three slighting expressions which the former dropped with respect to
+Maltravers, coupled with some outrageous compliments to the Italian,
+completely won the heart of the poet. The brilliant Florence was more
+silent and subdued than usual; and her voice was softer, though graver,
+when she replied to Castruccio’s eloquent appeals. Castruccio was one of
+those men who _talk fine_. By degrees, Lumley lapsed into silence, and
+listened to what took place between Lady Florence and the Italian,
+while appearing to be deep in “The Views of the Rhine,” which lay on the
+table.
+
+“Ah,” said the latter, in his soft native tongue, “could you know how
+I watch every shade of that countenance which makes my heaven! Is it
+clouded? night is with me!--is it radiant? I am as the Persian gazing on
+the sun!”
+
+“Why do you speak thus to me? were you not a poet, I might be angry.”
+
+“You were not angry when the English poet, that cold Maltravers, spoke
+to you perhaps as boldly.”
+
+Lady Florence drew up her haughty head. “Signor,” said she, checking,
+however, her first impulse, and with mildness, “Mr. Maltravers neither
+flatters nor--”
+
+“Presumes, you were about to say,” said Cesarini, grinding his teeth.
+“But it is well--once you were less chilling to the utterance of my deep
+devotion.”
+
+“Never, Signor Cesarini, never--but when I thought it was but the common
+gallantry of your nation: let me think so still.”
+
+“No, proud woman,” said Cesarini, fiercely, “no--hear the truth.”
+
+Lady Florence rose indignantly.
+
+“Hear me,” he continued. “I--I, the poor foreigner, the despised
+minstrel, dare to lift up my eyes to you! I love you!”
+
+Never had Florence Lascelles been so humiliated and confounded. However
+she might have amused herself with the vanity of Cesarini, she had not
+given him, as she thought, the warrant to address her--the great Lady
+Florence, the prize of dukes and princes--in this hardy manner; she
+almost fancied him insane. But the next moment she recalled the warning
+of Maltravers, and felt as if her punishment had commenced.
+
+“You will think and speak more calmly, sir, when we meet again,” and so
+saying, she swept away.
+
+Cesarini remained rooted to the spot, with his dark countenance
+expressing such passions as are rarely seen in the aspects of civilised
+men.
+
+“Where do you lodge, Signor Cesarini?” asked the bland, familiar voice
+of Ferrers. “Let us walk part of the way together--that is, when you are
+tired of these hot rooms.”
+
+Cesarini groaned. “You are ill,” continued Ferrers; “the air will
+revive you--come.” He glided from the room, and the Italian mechanically
+followed him. They walked together for some moments in silence, side
+by side, in a clear, lovely, moonlight night. At length Ferrers said,
+“Pardon me, my dear signor, but you may already have observed that I am
+a very frank, odd sort of fellow. I see you are caught by the charms of
+my cruel cousin. Can I serve you in any way?”
+
+A man at all acquainted with the world in which we live would have been
+suspicious of such cordiality in the cousin of an heiress, towards a
+very unsuitable aspirant. But Cesarini, like many indifferent poets (but
+like few good ones), had no common sense. He thought it quite natural
+that a man who admired his poetry so much as Lumley had declared he did,
+should take a lively interest in his welfare; and he therefore replied
+warmly, “Oh, sir, this is indeed a crushing blow: I dreamed she loved
+me. She was ever flattering and gentle when she spoke to me, and in
+verse already I had told her of my love, and met with no rebuke.”
+
+“Did your verses really and plainly declare love, and in your own
+person?”
+
+“Why, the sentiment was veiled, perhaps--put into the mouth of a
+fictitious character, or conveyed in an allegory.”
+
+“Oh,” ejaculated Ferrers, thinking it very likely that the gorgeous
+Florence, hymned by a thousand bards, had done little more than cast a
+glance over the lines that had cost poor Cesarini such anxious toil,
+and inspired him with such daring hope. “Oh!--and to-night she was more
+severe--she is a terrible coquette, _la belle Florence_! But perhaps you
+have a rival.”
+
+“I feel it--I saw it--I know it.”
+
+“Whom do you suspect?”
+
+“That accursed Maltravers! He crosses me in every path--my spirit quails
+beneath his whenever we encounter. I read my doom.”
+
+“If it be Maltravers,” said Ferrers, gravely, “the danger cannot be
+great. Florence has seen but little of him, and he does not admire
+her much; but she is a great match, and he is ambitious. We must guard
+against this betimes, Cesarini--for know that I dislike Maltravers as
+much as you do, and will cheerfully aid you in any plan to blight his
+hopes in that quarter.”
+
+“Generous, noble friend!--yet he is richer, better-born than I.”
+
+“That may be: but to one in Lady Florence’s position, all minor grades
+of rank in her aspirants seem pretty well levelled. Come, I don’t tell
+you that I would not sooner she married a countryman and an equal--but
+I have taken a liking to you, and I detest Maltravers. She is very
+romantic--fond of poetry to a passion--writes it herself, I fancy. Oh,
+you’ll just suit her; but, alas! how will you see her?”
+
+“See her! What mean you?”
+
+“Why, have you not declared love to-night? I thought I overheard you.
+Can you for a moment fancy that, after such an avowal, Lady Florence
+will again receive you--that is, if she mean to reject your suit?”
+
+“Fool that I was! But no--she must, she shall.”
+
+“Be persuaded; in this country violence will not do. Take my advice,
+write an humble apology, confess your fault, invoke her pity; and,
+declaring that you renounce for ever the character of a lover, implore
+still to be acknowledged as a friend. Be quiet now, hear me out; I am
+older than you; I know my cousin; this will pique her; your modesty will
+soothe, while your coldness will arouse, her vanity. Meanwhile you will
+watch the progress of Maltravers; I will be by your elbow; and between
+us, to use a homely phrase, we will do for him. Then you may have your
+opportunity, clear stage, and fair play.”
+
+Cesarini was at first rebellious; but, at length, even he saw the
+policy of the advice. But Lumley would not leave him till the advice was
+adopted. He made Castruccio accompany him to a club, dictated the letter
+to Florence, and undertook its charge. This was not all.
+
+“It is also necessary,” said Lumley, after a short but thoughtful
+silence, “that you should write to Maltravers.”
+
+“And for what?”
+
+“I have my reasons. Ask him, in a frank and friendly spirit, his opinion
+of Lady Florence; state your belief that she loves you, and inquire
+ingenuously what he thinks your chances of happiness in such a union.”
+
+“But why this?”
+
+“His answer may be useful,” returned Lumley, musingly. “Stay, I will
+dictate the letter.”
+
+Cesarini wondered and hesitated, but there was that about Lumley Ferrers
+which had already obtained command over the weak and passionate poet.
+He wrote, therefore, as Lumley dictated, beginning with some commonplace
+doubts as to the happiness of marriage in general, excusing himself for
+his recent coldness towards Maltravers, and asking him his confidential
+opinion both as to Lady Florence’s character and his own chances of
+success.
+
+This letter, like the former one, Lumley sealed and despatched.
+
+“You perceive,” he then said, briefly, to Cesarini, “that it is the
+object of this letter to entrap Maltravers into some plain and honest
+avowal of his dislike to Lady Florence; we may make good use of such
+expressions hereafter, if he should ever prove a rival. And now go home
+to rest: you look exhausted. Adieu, my new friend.”
+
+“I have long had a presentiment,” said Lumley to his councillor SELF, as
+he walked to Great George Street, “that that wild girl has conceived a
+romantic fancy for Maltravers. But I can easily prevent such an accident
+ripening into misfortune. Meanwhile, I have secured a tool, if I want
+one. By Jove, what an ass that poet is! But so was Cassio; yet Iago made
+use of him. If Iago had been born now, and dropped that foolish fancy
+for revenge, what a glorious fellow he would have been! Prime minister
+at least!”
+
+Pale, haggard, exhausted, Castruccio Cesarini, traversing a length of
+way, arrived at last at a miserable lodging in the suburb of Chelsea.
+His fortune was now gone; gone in supplying the poorest food to a
+craving and imbecile vanity: gone, that its owner might seem what nature
+never meant him for: the elegant Lothario, the graceful man of pleasure,
+the troubadour of modern life! gone in horses, and jewels, and fine
+clothes, and gaming, and printing unsaleable poems on gilt-edged vellum;
+gone, that he might not be a greater but a more fashionable man than
+Ernest Maltravers! Such is the common destiny of those poor adventurers
+who confine fame to boudoirs and saloons. No matter whether they be
+poets or dandies, wealthy _parvenus_ or aristocratic cadets, all equally
+prove the adage that the wrong paths to reputation are strewed with the
+wrecks of peace, fortune, happiness, and too often honour! And yet this
+poor young man had dared to hope for the hand of Florence Lascelles! He
+had the common notion of foreigners, that English girls marry for
+love, are very romantic; that, within the three seas, heiresses are
+as plentiful as blackberries; and for the rest, his vanity had been
+so pampered, that it now insinuated itself into every fibre of his
+intellectual and moral system.
+
+Cesarini looked cautiously round, as he arrived at his door; for he
+fancied that, even in that obscure place, persons might be anxious to
+catch a glimpse of the celebrated poet; and he concealed his residence
+from all; dined on a roll when he did not dine out, and left his address
+at “The Travellers.” He looked round, I say, and he did observe a tall
+figure wrapped in a cloak that had indeed followed him from a distant
+and more populous part of the town. But the figure turned round, and
+vanished instantly. Cesarini mounted to his second floor. And about the
+middle of the next day a messenger left a letter at his door, containing
+one hundred pounds in a blank envelope. Cesarini knew not the writing of
+the address; his pride was deeply wounded. Amidst all his penury, he
+had not even applied to his own sister. Could it come from her, from De
+Montaigne? He was lost in conjecture. He put the remittance aside for
+a few days; for he had something fine in him, the poor poet! but bills
+grew pressing, and necessity hath no law.
+
+Two days afterwards, Cesarini brought to Ferrers the answer he had
+received from Maltravers. Lumley had rightly foreseen that the high
+spirit of Ernest would conceive some indignation at the coquetry of
+Florence in beguiling the Italian into hopes never to be realised, and
+that he would express himself openly and warmly. He did so, however,
+with more gentleness than Lumley had anticipated.
+
+“This is not exactly the thing,” said Ferrers, after twice reading the
+letter; “still it may hereafter be a strong card in our hands--we will
+keep it.”
+
+So saying, he locked the letter up in his desk, and Cesarini soon forgot
+its existence.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+ “She was a phantom of delight,
+  When first she gleamed upon my sight:
+  A lovely apparition sent
+  To be a moment’s ornament.”--WORDSWORTH.
+
+MALTRAVERS did not see Lady Florence again for some weeks; meanwhile,
+Lumley Ferrers made his _debut_ in parliament. Rigidly adhering to
+his plan of acting on a deliberate system, and not prone to overrate
+himself, Mr. Ferrers did not, like most promising new members, try
+the hazardous ordeal of a great first speech. Though bold, fluent, and
+ready, he was not eloquent; and he knew that on great occasions,
+when great speeches are wanted, great guns like to have the fire to
+themselves. Neither did he split upon the opposite rock of “promising
+young men,” who stick to “the business of the house” like leeches, and
+quibble on details; in return for which labour they are generally voted
+bores, who can never do anything remarkable. But he spoke frequently,
+shortly, courageously, and with a strong dash of good-humoured
+personality. He was the man whom a minister could get to say something
+which other people did not like to say: and he did so with a frank
+fearlessness that carried off any seeming violation of good taste.
+He soon became a very popular speaker in the parliamentary clique;
+especially with the gentlemen who crowd the bar, and never want to
+hear the argument of the debate. Between him and Maltravers a visible
+coldness now existed; for the latter looked upon his old friend (whose
+principles of logic led him even to republicanism, and who had been
+accustomed to accuse Ernest of temporising with plain truths, if he
+demurred to their application to artificial states of society) as a
+cold-blooded and hypocritical adventurer; while Ferrers, seeing that
+Ernest could now be of no further use to him, was willing enough to
+drop a profitless intimacy. Nay, he thought it would be wise to pick a
+quarrel with him, if possible, as the best means of banishing a supposed
+rival from the house of his noble relation, Lord Saxingham. But no
+opportunity for that step presented itself; so Lumley kept a fit of
+convenient rudeness, or an impromptu sarcasm, in reserve, if ever it
+should be wanted.
+
+The season and the session were alike drawing to a close, when
+Maltravers received a pressing invitation from Cleveland to spend a week
+at his villa, which he assured Ernest would be full of agreeable
+people; and as all business productive of debate or division was
+over, Maltravers was glad to obtain fresh air, and a change of scene.
+Accordingly, he sent down his luggage and favourite books, and one
+afternoon in early August rode alone towards Temple Grove. He was much
+dissatisfied, perhaps disappointed, with his experience of public life;
+and with his high-wrought and over-refining views of the deficiencies
+of others more prominent, he was in a humour to mingle also censure of
+himself, for having yielded too much to the doubts and scruples that
+often, in the early part of their career, beset the honest and sincere,
+in the turbulent whirl of politics, and ever tend to make the robust
+hues that should belong to action
+
+   “Sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought.”
+
+His mind was working its way slowly towards those conclusions,
+which sometimes ripen the best practical men out of the most exalted
+theorists, and perhaps he saw before him the pleasing prospect
+flatteringly exhibited to another, when he complained of being too
+honest for party, viz., “of becoming a very pretty rascal in time!”
+
+For several weeks he had not heard from his unknown correspondent, and
+the time was come when he missed those letters, now continued for more
+than two years; and which, in their eloquent mixture of complaint,
+exhortation, despondent gloom and declamatory enthusiasm, had often
+soothed him in dejection, and made him more sensible of triumph. While
+revolving in his mind thoughts connected with these subjects--and,
+somehow or other, with his more ambitious reveries were always mingled
+musings of curiosity respecting his correspondent--he was struck by the
+beauty of a little girl, of about eleven years old, who was walking with
+a female attendant on the footpath that skirted the road. I said that he
+was struck by her beauty, but that is a wrong expression; it was rather
+the charm of her countenance than the perfection of her features which
+arrested the gaze of Maltravers--a charm that might not have existed for
+others, but was inexpressibly attractive to him, and was so much apart
+from the vulgar fascination of mere beauty, that it would have equally
+touched a chord at his heart, if coupled with homely features or a
+bloomless cheek. This charm was in a wonderful innocent and dove-like
+softness of expression. We all form to ourselves some _beau-ideal_ of
+the “fair spirit” we desire as our earthly “minister,” and somewhat
+capriciously gauge and proportion our admiration of living shapes
+according as the _beau-ideal_ is more or less embodied or approached.
+Beauty, of a stamp that is not familiar to the dreams of our fancy,
+may win the cold homage of our judgment, while a look, a feature, a
+something that realises and calls up a boyish vision, and assimilates
+even distantly to the picture we wear within us, has a loveliness
+peculiar to our eyes, and kindles an emotion that almost seems to
+belong to memory. It is this which the Platonists felt when they wildly
+supposed that souls attracted to each other on earth had been united in
+an earlier being and a diviner sphere; and there was in the young
+face on which Ernest gazed precisely this ineffable harmony with his
+preconceived notions of the beautiful. Many a nightly and noonday
+reverie was realised in those mild yet smiling eyes of the darkest blue;
+in that ingenuous breadth of brow, with its slightly-pencilled arches,
+and the nose, not cut in that sharp and clear symmetry which looks so
+lovely in marble, but usually gives to flesh and blood a decided
+and hard character, that better becomes the sterner than the gentler
+sex--no; not moulded in the pure Grecian, nor in the pure Roman, cast;
+but small, delicate, with the least possible inclination to turn upward,
+that was only to be detected in one position of the head, and served
+to give a prettier archness to the sweet flexile lips, which, from the
+gentleness of their repose, seemed to smile unconsciously, but rather
+from a happy constitutional serenity than from the giddiness of mirth.
+Such was the character of this fair child’s countenance, on which
+Maltravers turned and gazed involuntarily and reverently, with something
+of the admiring delight with which we look upon the Virgin of a Rafaele,
+or the sunset landscape of a Claude. The girl did not appear to feel
+any premature coquetry at the evident, though respectful admiration she
+excited. She met the eyes bent upon her, brilliant and eloquent as they
+were, with a fearless and unsuspecting gaze, and pointed out to her
+companion, with all a child’s quick and unrestrained impulse, the
+shining and raven gloss, the arched and haughty neck, of Ernest’s
+beautiful Arabian.
+
+Now there happened between Maltravers and the young object of his
+admiration a little adventure, which served, perhaps, to fix in her
+recollection this short encounter with a stranger; for certain it
+is that, years after, she did remember both the circumstances of the
+adventure and the features of Maltravers. She wore one of those large
+straw-hats which look so pretty upon children, and the warmth of the day
+made her untie the strings which confined it. A gentle breeze arose, as
+by a turn in the road the country became more open, and suddenly wafted
+the hat from its proper post, almost to the hoofs of Ernest’s horse. The
+child naturally made a spring forward to arrest the deserter, and her
+foot slipped down the bank, which was rather steeply raised above
+the road. She uttered a low cry of pain. To dismount--to regain the
+prize--and to restore it to its owner, was, with Ernest, the work of
+a moment; the poor girl had twisted her ankle and was leaning upon her
+servant for support. But when she saw the anxiety, and almost the alarm,
+upon the stranger’s face (and her exclamation of pain had literally
+thrilled his heart--so much and so unaccountably had she excited his
+interest), she made an effort at self-control, not common at her years,
+and, with a forced smile, assured him she was not much hurt--that it was
+nothing--that she was just at home.
+
+“Oh, miss!” said the servant, “I am sure you are very bad. Dear heart,
+how angry master will be! It was not my fault; was it, sir?”
+
+“Oh, no, it was not your fault, Margaret; don’t be frightened--papa
+sha’n’t blame you. But I’m much better now.” So saying, she tried to
+walk; but the effort was in vain--she turned yet more pale, and though
+she struggled to prevent a shriek, the tears rolled down her cheeks.
+
+It was very odd, but Maltravers had never felt more touched--the tears
+stood in his own eyes; he longed to carry her in his arms, but, child
+as she was, a strange kind of nervous timidity forbade him. Margaret,
+perhaps, expected it of him, for she looked hard in his face, before she
+attempted a burthen to which, being a small, slight person, she was by
+no means equal. However, after a pause, she took up her charge, who,
+ashamed of her tears, and almost overcome with pain, nestled her head in
+the woman’s bosom, and Maltravers walked by her side, while his docile
+and well-trained horse followed at a distance, every now and then
+putting its fore-legs on the bank and cropping away a mouthful of leaves
+from the hedge-row.
+
+“Oh, Margaret!” said the little sufferer, “I cannot bear it--indeed I
+cannot.”
+
+And Maltravers observed that Margaret had permitted the lame foot to
+hang down unsupported, so that the pain must indeed have been scarcely
+bearable. He could restrain himself no longer.
+
+“You are not strong enough to carry her,” said he, sharply, to the
+servant; and the next moment the child was in his arms. Oh, with what
+anxious tenderness he bore her! and he was so happy when she turned her
+face to him and smiled, and told him she now scarcely felt the pain.
+If it were possible to be in love with a child of eleven years old,
+Maltravers was almost in love. His pulses trembled as he felt her pure
+breath on his cheek, and her rich beautiful hair was waved by the breeze
+across his lips. He hushed his voice to a whisper as he poured forth all
+the soothing and comforting expressions which give a natural eloquence
+to persons fond of children--and Ernest Maltravers was the idol of
+children;--he understood and sympathised with them; he had a great
+deal of the child himself, beneath the rough and cold husk of his proud
+reserve. At length they came to a lodge, and Margaret eagerly inquiring
+“whether master and missus were at home,” seemed delighted to hear they
+were not. Ernest, however, insisted on bearing his charge across the
+lawn to the house, which, like most suburban villas, was but a stone’s
+throw from the lodge; and, receiving the most positive promise that
+surgical advice should be immediately sent for, he was forced to content
+himself with laying the sufferer on a sofa in the drawing-room; and she
+thanked him so prettily, and assured him she was so much easier, that
+he would have given the world to kiss her. The child had completed her
+conquest over him by being above the child’s ordinary littleness of
+making the worst of things, in order to obtain the consequence and
+dignity of being pitied;--she was evidently unselfish and considerate
+for others. He did kiss her, but it was the hand that he kissed, and no
+cavalier ever kissed his lady’s hand with more respect; and then, for
+the first time, the child blushed--then, for the first time, she felt
+as if the day would come when she should be a child no longer! Why
+was this?--perhaps because it is an era in life--the first sign of a
+tenderness that inspires respect, not familiarity!
+
+“If ever again I could be in love,” said Maltravers, as he spurred on
+his road, “I really think it would be with that exquisite child. My
+feeling is more like that of love at first sight than any emotion which
+beauty ever caused in me. Alice--Valerie--no; the _first_ sight of them
+did not:--but what folly is this--a child of eleven--and I verging upon
+thirty!”
+
+Still, however, folly as it might be, the image of that young girl
+haunted Maltravers for many days; till change of scene, the distractions
+of society, the grave thoughts of manhood, and, above all, a series of
+exciting circumstances about to be narrated, gradually obliterated a
+strange and most delightful impression. He had learned, however, that
+Mr. Templeton was the proprietor of the villa, which was the child’s
+home. He wrote to Ferrers to narrate the incident, and to inquire after
+the sufferer. In due time he heard from that gentleman that the child
+was recovered, and gone with Mr. and Mrs. Templeton to Brighton, for
+change of air and sea-bathing.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK VIII.
+
+ Whither come Wisdom’s queen
+ And the snare-weaving Love?
+     EURIP. _Iphig. in Aul._ I. 1310.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ “Notitiam primosque gradus vicinia fecit.” *--OVID.
+
+* Neighbourhood caused the acquaintance and first introduction.
+
+CLEVELAND’S villa _was_ full, and of persons usually called agreeable.
+Amongst the rest was Lady Florence Lascelles. The wise old man had ever
+counselled Maltravers not to marry too young; but neither did he wish
+him to put off that momentous epoch of life till all the bloom of heart
+and emotion was passed away. He thought, with the old lawgivers, that
+thirty was the happy age for forming a connection, in the choice of
+which, with the reason of manhood, ought, perhaps, to be blended
+the passion of youth. And he saw that few men were more capable than
+Maltravers of the true enjoyments of domestic life. He had long thought,
+also, that none were more calculated to sympathise with Ernest’s views,
+and appreciate his peculiar character, than the gifted and brilliant
+Florence Lascelles. Cleveland looked with toleration on her many
+eccentricities of thought and conduct,--eccentricities which he imagined
+would rapidly melt away beneath the influence of that attachment which
+usually operates so great a change in women; and, where it is strongly
+and intensely felt, moulds even those of the most obstinate character
+into compliance or similitude with the sentiments or habits of its
+object.
+
+The stately self-control of Maltravers was, he conceived, precisely that
+quality that gives to men an unconscious command over the very thoughts
+of the woman whose affection they win: while, on the other hand, he
+hoped that the fancy and enthusiasm of Florence would tend to render
+sharper and more practical an ambition, which seemed to the sober man
+of the world too apt to refine upon the means, and to _cui bono_
+the objects of worldly distinction. Besides, Cleveland was one who
+thoroughly appreciated the advantages of wealth and station; and the
+rank and the dower of Florence were such as would force Maltravers into
+a position in social life, which could not fail to make new exactions
+upon talents which Cleveland fancied were precisely those adapted rather
+to command than to serve. In Ferrers he recognised a man to _get_ into
+power--in Maltravers one by whom power, if ever attained, would be
+wielded with dignity, and exerted for great uses. Something, therefore,
+higher than mere covetousness for the vulgar interests of Maltravers
+made Cleveland desire to secure to him the heart and hand of the great
+heiress; and he fancied that, whatever might be the obstacle, it would
+not be in the will of Lady Florence herself. He prudently resolved,
+however, to leave matters to their natural course. He hinted nothing
+to one party or the other. No place for falling in love like a large
+country house, and no time for it, amongst the indolent well-born, like
+the close of a London season, when, jaded by small cares, and sickened
+of hollow intimacies, even the coldest may well yearn for the tones of
+affection--the excitement of an honest emotion.
+
+Somehow or other it happened that Florence and Ernest, after the first
+day or two, were constantly thrown together. She rode on horseback, and
+Maltravers was by her side--they made excursions on the river, and they
+sat on the same bench in the gliding pleasure-boat. In the evenings, the
+younger guests, with the assistance of the neighbouring families, often
+got up a dance in a temporary pavilion built out of the dining-room.
+Ernest never danced. Florence did at first. But once, as she was
+conversing with Maltravers, when a gay guardsman came to claim her
+promised hand in the waltz, she seemed struck by a grave change in
+Ernest’s face.
+
+“Do you never waltz?” she asked, while the guardsman was searching for a
+corner wherein safely to deposit his hat.
+
+“No,” said he; “yet there is no impropriety in _my_ waltzing.”
+
+“And you mean that there is in mine?”
+
+“Pardon me--I did not say so.”
+
+“But you think it.”
+
+“Nay, on consideration, I am glad, perhaps, that you do waltz.”
+
+“You are mysterious.”
+
+“Well then, I mean, that you are precisely the woman I would never fall
+in love with. And I feel the danger is lessened, when I see you destroy
+any one of my illusions, or, I ought to say, attack any one of my
+prejudices.”
+
+Lady Florence coloured; but the guardsman and the music left her no
+time for reply. However, after that night she waltzed no more. She was
+unwell--she declared she was ordered not to dance, and so quadrilles
+were relinquished as well as the waltz.
+
+Maltravers could not but be touched and flattered by this regard for
+his opinion; but Florence contrived to testify it so as to forbid
+acknowledgment, since another motive had been found for it. The second
+evening after that commemorated by Ernest’s candid rudeness, they
+chanced to meet in the conservatory, which was connected with the
+ball-room; and Ernest, pausing to inquire after her health, was struck
+by the listless and dejected sadness which spoke in her tone and
+countenance as she replied to him.
+
+“Dear Lady Florence,” said he, “I fear you are worse than you will
+confess. You should shun these draughts. You owe it to your friends to
+be more careful of yourself.”
+
+“Friends!” said Lady Florence, bitterly--“I have no friends!--even my
+poor father would not absent himself from a cabinet dinner a week
+after I was dead. But that is the condition of public life--its hot
+and searing blaze puts out the lights of all lesser but not unholier
+affections.--Friends! Fate, that made Florence Lascelles the envied
+heiress, denied her brothers, sisters; and the hour of her birth lost
+her even the love of a mother! Friends! where shall I find them?”
+
+As she ceased, she turned to the open casement, and stepped out into
+the verandah, and by the trembling of her voice Ernest felt that she had
+done so to hide or to suppress her tears.
+
+“Yet,” said he, following her, “there is one class of more distant
+friends, whose interest Lady Florence Lascelles cannot fail to secure,
+however she may disdain it. Among the humblest of that class, suffer me
+to rank myself. Come, I assume the privilege of advice--the night air is
+a luxury you must not indulge.”
+
+“No, no, it refreshes me--it soothes. You misunderstand me, I have no
+illness that still skies and sleeping flowers can increase.”
+
+Maltravers, as is evident, was not in love with Florence, but he could
+not fail, brought, as he had lately been, under the direct influence
+of her rare and prodigal gifts, mental and personal, to feel for her a
+strong and even affectionate interest--the very frankness with which he
+was accustomed to speak to her, and the many links of communion there
+necessarily were between himself and a mind so naturally powerful and
+so richly cultivated, had already established their acquaintance upon an
+intimate footing.
+
+“I cannot restrain you, Lady Florence,” said he, half smiling, “but
+my conscience will not let me be an accomplice. I will turn king’s
+evidence, and hunt out Lord Saxingham to send him to you.”
+
+Lady Florence, whose face was averted from his, did not appear to hear
+him.
+
+“And you, Mr. Maltravers,” turning quickly round--“you--have you
+friends? Do you feel that there are, I do not say public, but private
+affections and duties, for which life is made less a possession than a
+trust?”
+
+“Lady Florence--no!--I have friends, it is true, and Cleveland is of the
+nearest; but the life within life--the second self, in whom we vest
+the right and mastery over our own being--I know it not. But is it,” he
+added, after a pause, “a rare privation? Perhaps it is a happy one.
+I have learned to lean on my own soul, and not look elsewhere for the
+reeds that a wind can break.”
+
+“Ah, it is a cold philosophy--you may reconcile yourself to its wisdom
+in the world, in the hum and shock of men; but in solitude, with
+Nature--ah, no! While the mind alone is occupied, you may be contented
+with the pride of stoicism; but there are moments when the _heart_
+wakens as from a sleep--wakens like a frightened child--to feel itself
+alone and in the dark.”
+
+Ernest was silent, and Florence continued, in an altered voice: “This
+is a strange conversation--and you must think me indeed a wild,
+romance-reading person, as the world is apt to call me. But if I
+live--I--pshaw!--life denies ambition to women.”
+
+“If a woman like you, Lady Florence, should ever love, it will be one
+in whose career you may perhaps find that noblest of all ambitions--the
+ambition women only feel--the ambition for another!”
+
+“Ah! but I shall never love,” said Lady Florence, and her cheek grew
+pale as the starlight shone on it; “still, perhaps,” she added quickly,
+“I may at least know the blessing of friendship. Why now,” and here,
+approaching Maltravers, she laid her hand with a winning frankness on
+his arm--“why now, should not we be to each other as if love, as
+you call it, were not a thing for earth--and friendship supplied its
+place?--there is no danger of our falling in love with each other! You
+are not vain enough to expect it in me, and I, you know, am a coquette;
+let us be friends, confidants--at least till you marry, or I give
+another the right to control my friendships and monopolise my secrets.”
+
+Maltravers was startled--the sentiment Florence addressed to him, he, in
+words not dissimilar, had once addressed to Valerie.
+
+“The world,” said he, kissing the hand that yet lay on his arm, “the
+world will--”
+
+“Oh, you men!--the world, the world!--Everything gentle, everything
+pure, everything noble, high-wrought and holy--is to be squared, and
+cribbed, and maimed to the rule and measure of the world! The world--are
+you, too, its slave? Do you not despise its hollow cant--its methodical
+hypocrisy?”
+
+“Heartily!” said Ernest Maltravers, almost with fierceness. “No man ever
+so scorned its false gods and its miserable creeds--its war upon the
+weak--its fawning upon the great--its ingratitude to benefactors--its
+sordid league with mediocrity against excellence. Yes, in proportion as
+I love mankind, I despise and detest that worse than Venetian oligarchy
+which mankind set over them and call ‘THE WORLD.’”
+
+And then it was, warmed by the excitement of released feelings, long
+and carefully shrouded, that this man, ordinarily so calm and
+self-possessed, poured burningly and passionately forth all those
+tumultuous and almost tremendous thoughts, which, however much we may
+regulate, control, or disguise them, lurk deep within the souls of all
+of us, the seeds of the eternal war between the natural man and
+the artificial; between our wilder genius and our social
+conventionalities;--thoughts that from time to time break forth into the
+harbingers of vain and fruitless revolutions, impotent struggles against
+destiny;--thoughts that good and wise men would be slow to promulge and
+propagate, for they are of a fire which burns as well as brightens,
+and which spreads from heart to heart--as a spark spreads amidst
+flax;--thoughts which are rifest where natures are most high, but belong
+to truths that virtue dare not tell aloud. And as Maltravers spoke, with
+his eyes flashing almost intolerable light--his breast heaving, his form
+dilated, never to the eyes of Florence Lascelles did he seem so great:
+the chains that bound the strong limbs of his spirit seemed snapped
+asunder, and all his soul was visible and towering, as a thing that has
+escaped slavery, and lifts its crest to heaven, and feels that it is
+free.
+
+That evening saw a new bond of alliance between these two
+persons,--young, handsome, and of opposite sexes, they agreed to be
+friends, and nothing more. Fools!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+ “Idem velle, et idem nolle, ea demum firma amicitia est.” *
+        SALLUST.
+
+*To will the same thing and not to will the same thing, that at length
+is firm friendship.
+
+ “_Carlos._ That letter.
+  _Princess Eboli._ Oh, I shall die. Return it instantly.”
+         SCHILLER: _Don Carlos_.
+
+IT seemed as if the compact Maltravers and Lady Florence had entered
+into removed whatever embarrassment and reserve had previously existed.
+They now conversed with an ease and freedom not common in persons of
+different sexes before they have passed their grand climacteric. Ernest,
+in ordinary life, like most men of warm emotions and strong imagination,
+if not taciturn, was at least guarded. It was as if a weight were taken
+from his breast, when he found one person who could understand him best
+when he was most candid. His eloquence--his poetry--his intense and
+concentrated enthusiasm found a voice. He could talk to an individual
+as he would have written to the public--a rare happiness to the men of
+books.
+
+Florence seemed to recover her health and spirits as by a miracle; yet
+she was more gentle, more subdued, than of old--there was less effort
+to shine, less indifference whether she shocked. Persons who had not
+met her before, wondered why she was dreaded in society. But at times a
+great natural irritability of temper--a quick suspicion of the motives
+of those around her--an imperious and obstinate vehemence of will, were
+visible to Maltravers, and served, perhaps, to keep him heart-whole.
+He regarded her through the eyes of the intellect, not those of the
+passions--he thought not of her as a woman--her very talents, her very
+grandeur of idea and power of purpose, while they delighted him in
+conversation, diverted his imagination from dwelling on her beauty.
+He looked on her as something apart from her sex;--a glorious creature
+spoilt by being a woman. He once told her so, laughing, and Florence
+considered it a compliment. Poor Florence, her scorn of her sex avenged
+her sex, and robbed her of her proper destiny!
+
+Cleveland silently observed their intimacy, and listened with a quiet
+smile to the gossips who pointed out _tetes-a-tetes_ by the terrace, and
+loiterings by the lawn, and predicted what would come of it all. Lord
+Saxingham was blind. But his daughter was of age, in possession of her
+princely fortune, and had long made him sensible of her independence of
+temper. His lordship, however, thoroughly misunderstood the character of
+her pride, and felt fully convinced she would marry no one less than
+a duke; as for flirtations, he thought them natural and innocent
+amusements. Besides, he was very little at Temple Grove. He went to
+London every morning, after breakfasting in his own room--came back to
+dine, play at whist, and talk good-humoured nonsense to Florence in his
+dressing-room, for the three minutes that took place between his sipping
+his wine-and-water and the appearance of his valet. As for the other
+guests, it was not their business to do more than gossip with each
+other; and so Florence and Maltravers went on their way unmolested,
+though not unobserved. Maltravers, not being himself in love, never
+fancied that Lady Florence loved him, or that she would be in any danger
+of doing so. This is a mistake a man often commits--a woman never. A
+woman always knows when she is loved, though she often imagines she is
+loved when she is not. Florence was not happy, for happiness is a calm
+feeling. But she was excited with a vague, wild, intoxicating emotion.
+
+She had learned from Maltravers that she had been misinformed by
+Ferrers, and that no other claimed empire over his heart; and whether or
+not he loved her, still for the present they seemed all in all to each
+other; she lived but for the present day, she would not think of the
+morrow.
+
+Since that severe illness which had tended so much to alter Ernest’s
+mode of life, he had not come before the public as an author. Latterly,
+however, the old habit had broken out again. With the comparative
+idleness of recent years, the ideas and feelings which crowd so fast on
+the poetical temperament, once indulged, had accumulated within him to
+an excess that demanded vent. For with some, to write is not a vague
+desire, but an imperious destiny. The fire is kindled and must break
+forth; the wings are fledged, and the birds must leave their nest. The
+communication of thought to man is implanted as an instinct in those
+breasts to which Heaven has intrusted the solemn agencies of genius.
+In the work which Maltravers now composed he consulted Florence: his
+confidence delighted her--it was a compliment she could appreciate.
+Wild, fervid, impassioned, was that work--a brief and holiday
+creation--the youngest and most beloved of the children of his brain.
+And as day by day the bright design grew into shape, and thought and
+imagination found themselves “local habitations,” Florence felt as if
+she were admitted into the palace of the genii, and made acquainted with
+the mechanism of those spells and charms with which the preternatural
+powers of mind design the witchery of the world. Ah, how different in
+depth and majesty were those intercommunications of idea between Ernest
+Maltravers and a woman scarcely inferior to himself in capacity and
+acquirement, from that bridge of shadowy and dim sympathies which the
+enthusiastic boy had once built up between his own poetry of knowledge
+and Alice’s poetry of love!
+
+It was one late afternoon in September, when the sun was slowly going
+down its western way, that Lady Florence, who had been all that
+morning in her own room, paying off, as she said, the dull arrears of
+correspondence, rather on Lord Saxingham’s account than her own; for he
+punctiliously exacted from her the most scrupulous attention to cousins
+fifty times removed, provided they were rich, clever, well off, or in
+any way of consequence:--it was one afternoon that, relieved from these
+avocations, Lady Florence strolled through the grounds with Cleveland.
+The gentlemen were still in the stubble-fields, the ladies were out in
+barouches and pony phaetons, and Cleveland and Lady Florence were alone.
+
+Apropos of Florence’s epistolary employment, their conversation fell
+upon that most charming species of literature, which joins with the
+interest of a novel the truth of a history--the French memoir and
+letter-writers. It was a part of literature in which Cleveland was
+thoroughly at home.
+
+“Those agreeable and polished gossips,” said he, “how well they
+contrived to introduce nature into art! Everything artificial seemed so
+natural to them. They even feel by a kind of clockwork, which seems to
+go better than the heart itself. Those pretty sentiments, those delicate
+gallantries, of Madame de Sevigne to her daughter, how amiable they are;
+but, somehow or other, I can never fancy them the least motherly. What
+an ending for a maternal epistle is that elegant compliment--‘Songez
+que de tons les coeurs ou vous regnez, il n’y en a aucun ou votre
+empire soit si bien etabli que dans le mien.’* I can scarcely fancy Lord
+Saxingham writing so to you, Lady Florence.”
+
+* Think that of all the hearts over which you reign, there is not one in
+which your empire can be so well established as in mine.
+
+“No, indeed,” replied Lady Florence, smiling. “Neither papas nor
+mammas in England are much addicted to compliment; but I confess I
+like preserving a sort of gallantry even in our most familiar
+connections--why should we not carry the imagination into all the
+affections?”
+
+“I can scarce answer the why,” returned Cleveland; “but I think it would
+destroy the reality. I am rather of the old school. If I had a daughter,
+and asked her to get my slippers, I am afraid I should think it a little
+wearisome if I had, in receiving them, to make _des belles phrases_ in
+return.”
+
+While they were thus talking, and Lady Florence continued to press her
+side of the question, they passed through a little grove that conducted
+to an arm of the stream which ornamented the grounds, and by its quiet
+and shadowy gloom was meant to give a contrast to the livelier features
+of the domain. Here they came suddenly upon Maltravers. He was walking
+by the side of the brook, and evidently absorbed in thought.
+
+It was the trembling of Lady Florence’s hand as it lay on Cleveland’s
+arm, that induced him to stop short in an animated commentary on
+Rochefoucauld’s character of Cardinal de Retz, and look round.
+
+“Ha, most meditative Jacques!” said he; “and what new moral hast thou
+been conning in our Forest of Ardennes?”
+
+“Oh, I am glad to see you; I wished to consult you, Cleveland. But
+first, Lady Florence, to convince you and our host that my rambles
+have not been wholly fruitless, and that I could not walk from Dan to
+Beersheba and find all barren, accept my offering--a wild rose that I
+discovered in the thickest part of the wood. It is not a civilised rose.
+Now, Cleveland, a word with you.”
+
+“And now, Mr. Maltravers, I am _de trop_,” said Lady Florence.
+
+“Pardon me, I have no secrets from you in this matter--or rather these
+matters; for there are two to be discussed. In the first place, Lady
+Florence, that poor Cesarini,--you know and like him--nay, no blushes.”
+
+“Did I blush?--then it was in recollection of an old reproach of yours.”
+
+“At its justice?--well, no matter. He is one for whom I always felt a
+lively interest. His very morbidity of temperament only increases my
+anxiety for his future fate. I have received a letter from De Montaigne,
+his brother-in-law, who seems seriously uneasy about Castruccio. He
+wishes him to leave England at once, as the sole means of restoring his
+broken fortunes. De Montaigne has the opportunity of procuring him a
+diplomatic situation, which may not again occur--and--but you know the
+man--what shall we do? I am sure he will not listen to me; he looks on
+me as an interested rival for fame.”
+
+“Do you think I have any subtler eloquence?” said Cleveland. “No, I
+am an author, too. Come, I think your ladyship must be the
+arch-negotiator.”
+
+“He has genius, he has merit,” said Maltravers, pleadingly; “he wants
+nothing but time and experience to wean him from his foibles. _Will_ you
+try to save him, Lady Florence?”
+
+“Why? nay, I must not be obdurate; I will see him when I go to town. It
+is like you, Mr. Maltravers, to feel this interest in one--”
+
+“Who does not like me, you would say; but he will some day or other.
+Besides, I owe him deep gratitude. In his weaker qualities I have seen
+many which all literary men might incur, without strict watch over
+themselves; and let me add, also, that his family have great claims on
+me.”
+
+“You believe in the soundness of his heart, and in the integrity of his
+honour?” said Cleveland, inquiringly.
+
+“Indeed I do; these are, these must be, the redeeming qualities of
+poets.”
+
+Maltravers spoke warmly; and such at that time was his influence over
+Florence, that his words formed--alas, too fatally!--her estimate of
+Castruccio’s character, which had at first been high, but which his own
+presumption had latterly shaken. She had seen him three or four times in
+the interval between the receipt of his apologetic letter and her visit
+to Cleveland, and he had seemed to her rather sullen than humbled. But
+she felt for the vanity she herself had wounded.
+
+“And now,” continued Maltravers, “for my second subject of consultation.
+But that is political; will it weary Lady Florence?”
+
+“Oh, no; to politics I am never indifferent: they always inspire me with
+contempt or admiration, according to the motives of those who bring the
+science into action. Pray say on.”
+
+“Well,” said Cleveland, “one confidant at a time; you will forgive me,
+for I see my guests coming across the lawn, and I may as well make a
+diversion in your favour. Ernest can consult _me_ at any time.”
+
+Cleveland walked away; but the intimacy between Maltravers and Florence
+was of so frank a nature that there was nothing embarrassing in the
+thought of a _tete-a-tete_.
+
+“Lady Florence,” said Ernest, “there is no one in the world with whom
+I can confer so cheerfully as with you. I am almost glad of Cleveland’s
+absence, for, with all his amiable and fine qualities, ‘the world is
+too much with him,’ and we do not argue from the same data. Pardon my
+prelude--now to my position. I have received a letter from Mr. ------.
+That statesman, whom none but those acquainted with the chivalrous
+beauty of his nature can understand or appreciate, sees before him the
+most brilliant career that ever opened in this country to a public
+man not born an aristocrat. He has asked me to form one of the new
+administration that he is about to create: the place offered to me is
+above my merits, nor suited to what I have yet done, though, perhaps,
+it be suited to what I may yet do. I make that qualification, for
+you know,” added Ernest, with a proud smile, “that I am sanguine and
+self-confident.”
+
+“You accept the proposal?”
+
+“Nay,--should I not reject it? Our politics are the same only for
+the moment, our ultimate objects are widely different. To serve with
+Mr.------, I must make an unequal compromise--abandon nine opinions to
+promote one. Is not this a capitulation of that great citadel, one’s own
+conscience? No man will call me inconsistent, for, in public life, to
+agree with another on a party question is all that is required; the
+thousand questions not yet ripened, and lying dark and concealed in the
+future, are not inquired into and divined; but I own I shall deem myself
+worse than inconsistent. For this is my dilemma,--if I use this noble
+spirit merely to advance one object, and then desert him where he halts,
+I am treacherous to him; if I halt with him, but one of my objects
+effected, I am treacherous to myself. Such are my views. It is with pain
+I arrive at them, for, at first, my heart beat with a selfish ambition.”
+
+“You are right, you are right,” exclaimed Florence, with glowing cheeks;
+“how could I doubt you? I comprehend the sacrifice you make; for a proud
+thing is it to soar above the predictions of foes in that palpable road
+to honour which the world’s hard eyes can see, and the world’s cold
+heart can measure; but prouder is it to feel that you have never
+advanced one step to the goal, which remembrance would retract. No, my
+friend, wait your time, confident that it must come, when conscience and
+ambition can go hand-in-hand--when the broad objects of a luminous and
+enlarged policy lie before you like a chart, and you can calculate every
+step of the way without peril of being lost. Ah, let them still
+call loftiness of purpose and whiteness of soul the dreams of a
+theorist,--even if they be so, the Ideal in this case is better than the
+Practical. Meanwhile your position is not one to forfeit lightly. Before
+you is that throne in literature which it requires no doubtful step
+to win, if you have, as I believe, the mental power to attain it. An
+ambition that may indeed be relinquished, if a more troubled career can
+better achieve those public purposes at which both letters and policy
+should aim, but which is not to be surrendered for the rewards of a
+place-man, or the advancement of a courtier.”
+
+It was while uttering these noble and inspiring sentiments, that
+Florence Lascelles suddenly acquired in Ernest’s eyes a loveliness with
+which they had not before invested her.
+
+“Oh,” he said, as, with a sudden impulse, he lifted her hand to his
+lips, “blessed be the hour in which you gave me your friendship! These
+are the thoughts I have longed to hear from living lips, when I have
+been tempted to believe patriotism a delusion, and virtue but a name.”
+
+Lady Florence heard, and her whole form seemed changed,--she was no
+longer the majestic sibyl, but the attached, timorous, delighted woman.
+
+It so happened that in her confusion she dropped from her hand the
+flower Maltravers had given her, and involuntarily glad of a pretext to
+conceal her countenance, she stooped to take it from the ground. In so
+doing, a letter fell from her bosom--and Maltravers, as he bent forwards
+to forestall her own movement, saw that the direction was to himself,
+and in the handwriting of his unknown correspondent. He seized the
+letter, and gazed in flattered and entranced astonishment, first on the
+writing, next on the detected writer. Florence grew deadly pale, and
+covering her face with her hands, burst into tears.
+
+“O fool that I was,” cried Ernest, in the passion of the moment, “not to
+know--not to have felt that there were not two Florences in the world!
+But if the thought had crossed me, I would not have dared to harbour
+it.”
+
+“Go, go,” sobbed Florence; “leave me, in mercy leave me!”
+
+“Not till you bid me rise,” said Ernest, in emotion scarcely less deep
+than hers, as he sank on his knee at her feet.
+
+Need I go on?--When they left that spot, a soft confession had been
+made--deep vows interchanged, and Ernest Maltravers was the accepted
+suitor of Florence Lascelles.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ “A hundred fathers would in my situation tell you that, as
+  you are of noble extraction, you should marry a nobleman.
+  But I do not say so. I will not sacrifice my child to any
+  prejudice.”
+         KOTZEBUE. _Lover’s Vows_.
+
+ “Take heed, my lord; the welfare of us all
+  Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man.”
+         SHAKSPEARE. _Henry VI._
+
+ “Oh, how this spring of love resembleth
+  Th’ uncertain glory of an April day;
+  Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
+  And by and by a cloud takes all away!”
+         SHAKSPEARE. _The Two Gentlemen of Verona_.
+
+WHEN Maltravers was once more in his solitary apartment, he felt as in
+a dream. He had obeyed an impulse, irresistible, perhaps, but one with
+which the _conscience of his heart_ was not satisfied. A voice whispered
+to him, “Thou hast deceived her and thyself--thou dost not love her!”
+ In vain he recalled her beauty, her grace, her genius--her singular and
+enthusiastic passion for himself--the voice still replied, “Thou dost
+not love. Bid farewell for ever to thy fond dreams of a life more
+blessed than that of mortals. From the stormy sea of the future are
+blotted out eternally for thee--Calypso and her Golden Isle. Thou canst
+no more paint on the dim canvas of thy desires the form of her with
+whom thou couldst dwell for ever. Thou hast been unfaithful to thine own
+ideal--thou hast given thyself for ever and for ever to another--thou
+hast renounced hope--thou must live as in a prison, with a being with
+whom thou hast not the harmony of love.”
+
+“No matter,” said Maltravers, almost alarmed, and starting from these
+thoughts, “I am betrothed to one who loves me--it is folly and dishonour
+to repent and to repine. I have gone through the best years of youth
+without finding the Egeria with whom the cavern would be sweeter than
+a throne. Why live to the grave a vain and visionary Nympholept? Out of
+the real world could I have made a nobler choice?”
+
+While Maltravers thus communed with himself, Lady Florence passed into
+her father’s dressing-room, and there awaited his return from London.
+She knew his worldly views--she knew also the pride of her affianced,
+and, she felt that she alone could mediate between the two.
+
+Lord Saxingham at last returned--busy, bustling, important, and
+good-humoured as usual. “Well, Flory, well?--glad to see you--quite
+blooming, I declare,--never saw you with such a colour--monstrous like
+me, certainly. We always had fine complexions and fine eyes in our
+family. But I’m rather late--first bell rung--we _ci-devant jeunes
+hommes_ are rather long dressing, and you are not dressed yet, I see.”
+
+“My dearest father, I wished to speak with you on a matter of much
+importance.”
+
+“Do you?--what, immediately?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Well--what is it?--your Slingsby property, I suppose.”
+
+“No, my dear father--pray sit down and hear me patiently.”
+
+Lord Saxingham began to be both alarmed and curious--he seated himself
+in silence, and looked anxiously in the face of his daughter.
+
+“You have always been very indulgent to me,” commenced Florence, with
+a half smile, “and I have had my own way more than most young ladies.
+Believe me, my dear father. I am most grateful not only for your
+affection but your esteem. I have been a strange wild girl, but I am
+now about to reform; and as the first step, I ask your consent to give
+myself a preceptor and a guide--”
+
+“A what!” cried Lord Saxingham.
+
+“In other words, I am about to--to--well, the truth must out--to marry.”
+
+“Has the Duke of ------ been here to-day?”
+
+“Not that I know of. But it is no duke to whom I have promised my
+hand--it is a nobler and rarer dignity that has caught my ambition. Mr.
+Maltravers has--”
+
+“Mr. Maltravers!--Mr. Devil!--the girl’s mad!--don’t talk to me,
+child, I won’t consent to any such nonsense. A country gentleman--very
+respectable, very clever, and all that, but it’s no use talking--my
+mind’s made up. With your fortune, too!”
+
+“My dear father, I will not marry without your consent, though my
+fortune is settled on me, and I am of age.”
+
+“There’s a good child--and now let me dress--we shall be late.”
+
+“No, not yet,” said Lady Florence, throwing her arm carelessly round her
+father’s neck--“I shall marry Mr. Maltravers, but it will be with your
+full approval. Just consider, if I married the Duke of ------, he would
+expect all my fortune, such as it is. Ten thousand a year is at my
+disposal; if I marry Mr. Maltravers, it will be settled on you--I always
+meant it--it is a poor return for your kindness, your indulgence--but it
+will show that your own Flory is not ungrateful.”
+
+“I won’t hear.”
+
+“Stop--listen to reason. You are not rich--you are entitled but to a
+small pension if you ever resign office, and your official salary, I
+have often heard you say, does not prevent you from being embarrassed.
+To whom should a daughter give from her superfluities but to a
+parent?--from whom should a parent receive, but from a child, who can
+never repay his love?--Ah, this is nothing; but you--you who have never
+crossed her lightest whim--do not you destroy all the hopes of happiness
+your Florence can ever form.”
+
+Florence wept, and Lord Saxingham, who was greatly moved, let fall a few
+tears also. Perhaps it is too much to say that the pecuniary part of the
+proffered arrangement entirely won him over; but still the way it was
+introduced softened his heart. He possibly thought that it was better to
+have a good and grateful daughter in a country gentleman’s wife, than a
+sullen and thankless one in a duchess. However that may be, certain it
+is, that before Lord Saxingham began his toilet, he promised to make no
+obstacle to the marriage, and all he asked in return was, that at least
+three months (but that, indeed, the lawyers would require) should elapse
+before it took place; and on this understanding Florence left him,
+radiant and joyous as Flora herself, when the sun of spring makes the
+world a garden. Never had she thought so little of her beauty, and never
+had it seemed so glorious, as that happy evening. But Maltravers was
+pale and thoughtful, and Florence in vain sought his eyes during the
+dinner, which seemed to her insufferably long. Afterwards, however,
+they met and conversed apart the rest of the evening; and the beauty of
+Florence began to produce upon Ernest’s heart its natural effect; and
+that evening--ah, how Florence treasured the remembrance of every hour,
+every minute of its annals!
+
+It would have been amusing to witness the short conversation between
+Lord Saxingham and Maltravers, when the latter sought the earl at night
+in his lordship’s room. To Lord Saxingham’s surprise, not a word did
+Maltravers utter of his own subordinate pretensions to Lady Florence’s
+hand. Coldly, drily, and almost haughtily, did he make the formal
+proposals, “as if [as Lord Saxingham afterwards said to Ferrers] the
+man were doing me the highest possible honour in taking my daughter, the
+beauty of London, with fifty thousand a year, off my hands.” But this
+was quite Maltravers!--if he had been proposing to the daughter of a
+country curate, without a sixpence, he would have been the humblest of
+the humble. The earl was embarrassed and discomposed--he was almost awed
+by the Siddons-like countenance and Coriolanus-like air of his future
+son-in-law-he even hinted nothing of the compromise as to time which
+he had made with his daughter. He thought it better to leave it to Lady
+Florence to arrange that matter. They shook hands frigidly and parted.
+Maltravers went next into Cleveland’s room, and communicated all to the
+delighted old man, whose congratulations were so fervid that Maltravers
+felt it would be a sin not to fancy himself the happiest, man in the
+world. That night he wrote his refusal of the appointment offered him.
+
+The next day, Lord Saxingham went to his office in Downing Street as
+usual, and Lady Florence and Ernest found an opportunity to ramble
+through the grounds alone.
+
+There it was that occurred those confessions, sweet alike to utter and
+to hear. Then did Florence speak of her early years--of her self-formed
+and solitary mind--of her youthful dreams and reveries. Nothing around
+her to excite interest or admiration, or the more romantic, the higher,
+or the softer qualities of her nature, she turned to contemplation and
+to books. It is the combination of the faculties with the affections,
+exiled from action, and finding no worldly vent, which produces Poetry,
+the child of passion and of thought. Hence, before the real cares of
+existence claim them, the young, who are abler yet lonelier than their
+fellows, are nearly always poets; and Florence was a poetess. In minds
+like this, the first book that seems to embody and represent their own
+most cherished and beloved trains of sentiment and ideas, ever creates
+a reverential and deep enthusiasm. The lonely, and proud, and melancholy
+soul of Maltravers, which made itself visible in all his creations,
+became to Florence like a revealer of the secrets of her own nature.
+She conceived an intense and mysterious interest in the man whose mind
+exercised so pervading a power over her own. She made herself acquainted
+with his pursuits, his career--she fancied she found a symmetry and
+harmony between the actual being and the breathing genius--she imagined
+she understood what seemed dark and obscure to others. He whom she
+had never seen grew to her a never-absent friend. His ambition, his
+reputation, were to her like a possession of her own. So at length, in
+the folly of her young romance, she wrote to him, and dreaming of no
+discovery, anticipating no result, the habit once indulged became to
+her that luxury which writing for the eye of the world is to an author
+oppressed with the burthen of his own thoughts. At length she saw him,
+and he did not destroy her illusion. She might have recovered from the
+spell if she had found him ready at once to worship at her shrine. The
+mixture of reserve and frankness--frankness of language, reserve of
+manner--which belonged to Maltravers, piqued her. Her vanity became the
+auxiliary to her imagination. At length they met at Cleveland’s house;
+their intercourse became more unrestrained--their friendship was
+established, and she discovered that she had wilfully implicated her
+happiness in indulging her dreams; yet even then she believed that
+Maltravers loved her, despite his silence upon the subject of love. His
+manner, his words bespoke his interest in her, and his voice was ever
+soft when he spoke to women; for he had much of the old chivalric
+respect and tenderness for the sex. What was general it was natural
+that she should apply individually--she who had walked the world but
+to fascinate and to conquer. It was probable that her great wealth and
+social position imposed a check on the delicate pride of Maltravers--she
+hoped so--she believed it--yet she felt her danger, and her own pride at
+last took alarm. In such a moment she had resumed the character of the
+unknown correspondent--she had written to Maltravers--addressed her
+letter to his own house, and meant the next day to have gone to London,
+and posted it there. In this letter she had spoken of his visit to
+Cleveland, of his position with herself. She exhorted him, if he loved
+her, to confess, and if not, to fly. She had written artfully and
+eloquently--she was desirous of expediting her own fate; and then, with
+that letter in her bosom, she had met Maltravers, and the reader has
+learned the rest. Something of all this the blushing and happy Florence
+now revealed: and when she ended with uttering the woman’s soft fear
+that she had been too bold, is it wonderful that Maltravers, clasping
+her to his bosom, felt the gratitude, and the delighted vanity, which
+seemed even to himself like love? And into love those feelings rapidly
+and deliciously will merge, if fate and accident permit!
+
+And now they were by the side of the water; and the sun was gently
+setting as on the eve before. It was about the same hour, the fairest of
+an autumn day; none were near--the slope of the hill hid the house from
+their view. Had they been in the desert they could not have been more
+alone. It was not silence that breathed around them, as they sat on that
+bench with the broad beech spreading over them its trembling canopy
+of leaves;--but those murmurs of living nature which are sweeter than
+silence itself--the songs of birds--the tinkling bell of the sheep on
+the opposite bank--the wind sighing through the trees, and the gentle
+heaving of the glittering waves that washed the odorous reed and
+water-lily at their feet. They had both been for some moments silent;
+and Florence now broke the pause, but in tones more low than usual.
+
+“Ah!” said she, turning towards him, “these hours are happier than we
+can find in that crowded world whither your destiny must call us. For
+me, ambition seems for ever at an end. I have found all; I am no longer
+haunted with the desire of gaining a vague something,--a shadowy empire,
+that we call fame or power. The sole thought that disturbs the
+calm current of my soul, is the fear to lose a particle of the rich
+possession I have gained.”
+
+“May your fears ever be as idle!”
+
+“And you really love me! I repeat to myself ever and ever that one
+phrase. I could once have borne to lose you, now it would be my death. I
+despaired of ever being loved for myself; my wealth was a fatal dower;
+I suspected avarice in every vow, and saw the base world lurk at
+the bottom of every heart that offered itself at my shrine. But you,
+Ernest,--you, I feel, never could weigh gold in the balance--and you--if
+you love--love me for myself.”
+
+“And I shall love thee more with every hour.”
+
+“I know not that: I dread that you will love me less when you know me
+more. I fear I shall seem to you exacting--I am jealous already. I was
+jealous even of Lady T------, when I saw you by her side this morning. I
+would have your every look--monopolise your every word.”
+
+This confession did not please Maltravers, as it might have done if he
+had been more deeply in love. Jealousy, in a woman of so vehement and
+imperious a nature, was indeed a passion to be dreaded.
+
+“Do not say so, dear Florence,” said he, with a very grave smile;
+“for love should have implicit confidence as its bond and nature--and
+jealousy is doubt, and doubt is the death of love.”
+
+A shade passed over Florence’s too expressive face, and she sighed
+heavily.
+
+It was at this time that Maltravers, raising his eyes, saw the form of
+Lumley Ferrers approaching towards them from the opposite end of the
+terrace: at the same instant, a dark cloud crept over the sky, the
+waters seemed overcast and the breeze fell: a chill and strange
+presentiment of evil shot across Ernest’s heart, and, like many
+imaginative persons, he was unconsciously superstitious as to
+presentiments.
+
+“We are no longer alone,” said he, rising; “your cousin has doubtless
+learned our engagement, and comes to congratulate your suitor.”
+
+“Tell me,” he continued musingly, as they walked on to meet Ferrers,
+“are you very partial to Lumley? what think you of his character?--it is
+one that perplexes me; sometimes I think it has changed since we parted
+in Italy--sometimes I think it has not changed, but ripened.”
+
+“Lumley, I have known from a child,” replied Florence, “and see much to
+admire and like in him; I admire his boldness and candour; his scorn
+of the world’s littleness and falsehood; I like his good-nature--his
+gaiety--and fancy his heart better than it may seem to the superficial
+observer.”
+
+“Yet he appears to me selfish and unprincipled.”
+
+“It is from a fine contempt for the vices and follies of men that he has
+contracted the habit of consulting his own resolute will--and,
+believing everything done in this noisy stage of action a cheat, he has
+accommodated his ambition to the fashion. Though without what is termed
+genius, he will obtain a distinction and power that few men of genius
+arrive at.”
+
+“Because _genius_ is essentially honest,” said Maltravers. “However, you
+teach me to look on him more indulgently. I suspect the real frankness
+of men whom I know to be hypocrites in public life--but, perhaps, I
+judge by too harsh a standard.”
+
+“Third persons,” said Ferrers, as he now joined them, “are seldom
+unwelcome in the country; and I flatter myself that I am the exact thing
+wanting to complete the charm of this beautiful landscape.”
+
+“You are ever modest, my cousin.”
+
+“It is my weak side, I know; but I shall improve with years and wisdom.
+What say you, Maltravers?” and Ferrers passed his arm affectionately
+through Ernest’s.
+
+“By the by, I am too familiar--I am sunk in the world. I am a thing to
+be sneered at by you old-family people. I am next heir to a bran-new
+Brummagem peerage. ‘Gad, I feel brassy already!”
+
+“What, is Mr. Templeton--”
+
+“Mr. Templeton is no more; he is defunct, extinguished--out of the
+ashes rises the phoenix Lord Vargrave. We had thought of a more sounding
+title; De Courval has a nobler sound,--but my good uncle has nothing of
+the Norman about him: so we dropped the De as ridiculous--Vargrave is
+euphonious and appropriate. My uncle has a manor of that name--Baron
+Vargrave of Vargrave.”
+
+“Ah--I congratulate you.”
+
+“Thank you. Lady Vargrave may destroy all my hopes yet. But nothing
+venture, nothing have. My uncle will be gazetted to-day. Poor man, he
+will be delighted; and as he certainly owes it much to me, he will, I
+suppose, be very grateful--or hate me ever afterwards--that is a toss
+up. A benefit conferred is a complete hazard between the thumb of pride
+and the forefinger of affection. Heads gratitude, tails hatred! There,
+that’s a simile in the fashion of the old writers: ‘Well of English
+undefiled!’ humph!”
+
+“So that beautiful child is Mrs. Templeton’s, or rather Lady Vargrave’s,
+daughter by a former marriage?” said Maltravers, abstractedly.
+
+“Yes, it is astonishing how fond he is of her. Pretty little
+creature--confoundedly artful though. By the way, Maltravers, we had
+an unexpectedly stormy night the last of the session--strong
+division--ministers hard pressed. I made quite a good speech for them. I
+suppose, however, there will be some change--the moderates will be taken
+in. Perhaps by next session I may congratulate you.”
+
+Ferrers looked hard at Maltravers while he spoke. But Ernest replied
+coldly, and evasively, and they were now joined by a party of idlers,
+lounging along the lawn in expectation of the first dinner-bell.
+Cleveland was in high consultation about the proper spot for a new
+fountain; and he summoned Maltravers to give his opinion whether it
+should spring from the centre of a flower-bed or beneath the drooping
+shade of a large willow. While this interesting discussion was going
+on, Ferrers drew aside his cousin, and pressing her hand affectionately,
+said, in a soft and tender voice:
+
+“My dear Florence--for in such a time permit me to be familiar--I
+understand from Lord Saxingham, whom I met in London, that you are
+engaged to Maltravers. Busy as I was, I could not rest without coming
+hither to offer my best and most earnest wish for your happiness. I may
+seem a careless, I am considered a selfish, person; but my heart is warm
+to those who really interest it. And never did brother offer up for the
+welfare of a beloved sister prayers more anxious and fond, than those
+that poor Lumley Ferrers, breathes for Florence Lascelles.”
+
+Florence was startled and melted--the whole tone and manner of Lumley
+were so different from those he usually assumed. She warmly returned the
+pressure of his hand, and thanked him briefly, but with emotion.
+
+“No one is great and good enough for you, Florence,” continued
+Ferrers--“no one. But I admire your disinterested and generous choice.
+Maltravers and I have not been friends lately; but I respect him, as all
+must. He has noble qualities, and he has great ambition. In addition to
+the deep and ardent love that you cannot fail to inspire, he will owe
+you eternal gratitude. In this aristocratic country, your hand secures
+to him the most brilliant fortunes, the most proud career. His talents
+will now be measured by a very different standard. His merits will not
+pass through any subordinate grades, but leap at once into the highest
+posts; and, as he is even more proud than ambitious, how he must bless
+one who raises him, without effort, into positions of eminent command!”
+
+“Oh, he does not think of such worldly advantages--he, the too pure,
+the too refined!” said Florence, with trembling eagerness. “He has no
+avarice, nothing mercenary in his nature!”
+
+“No; there you indeed do him justice,--there is not a particle of
+baseness in his mind--I did not say there was. The very greatness of
+his aspirations, his indignant and scornful pride, lift him above the
+thought of your wealth, your rank,--except as means to an end.”
+
+“You mistake still,” said Florence, faintly smiling, but turning pale.
+
+“No,” resumed Ferrers, not appearing to hear her, and as if pursuing
+his own thoughts. “I always predicted that Maltravers would make a
+distinguished connection in marriage. He would not permit himself to
+love the lowborn or the poor. His affections are in his pride as much
+as in his heart. He is a great creature--you have judged wisely--and may
+Heaven bless you!”
+
+With these words, Ferrers left her, and Florence, when she descended to
+dinner, wore a moody and clouded brow. Ferrers stayed three days at
+the house. He was peculiarly cordial to Maltravers, and spoke little to
+Florence. But that little never failed to leave upon her mind a jealous
+and anxious irritability, to which she yielded with morbid facility. In
+order perfectly to understand Florence Lascelles, it must be remembered
+that, with all her dazzling qualities, she was not what is called a
+lovable person. A certain hardness in her disposition, even as a child,
+had prevented her winding into the hearts of those around her. Deprived
+of her mother’s care--having little or no intercourse with children of
+her own age--brought up with a starched governess, or female relations,
+poor and proud--she never had contracted the softness of manner which
+the reciprocation of household affections usually produces. With a
+haughty consciousness of her powers, her birth, her position, advantages
+always dinned into her ear, she grew up solitary, unsocial, and
+imperious. Her father was rather proud than fond of her--her servants
+did not love her--she had too little consideration for others, too
+little blandness and suavity to be loved by inferiors--she was too
+learned and too stern to find pleasure in the conversation and society
+of young ladies of her own age:--she had no friends. Now, having really
+strong affection, she felt all this, but rather with resentment than
+grief--she longed to be loved, but did not seek to be so--she felt as if
+it was her fate not to be loved--she blamed Fate, not herself.
+
+When, with all the proud, pure, and generous candour of her nature,
+she avowed to Ernest her love for him, she naturally expected the most
+ardent and passionate return; nothing less could content her. But the
+habit and experience of all the past made her eternally suspicious
+that she was not loved; it was wormwood and poison to her to fancy that
+Maltravers had ever considered her advantages of fortune, except as a
+bar to his pretensions and a check on his passion. It was the same thing
+to her, whether it was the pettiest avarice or the loftiest aspirations
+that actuated her lover, if he had been actuated in his heart by any
+sentiment but love; and Ferrers, to whose eye her foibles were familiar,
+knew well how to make his praises of Ernest arouse against Ernest all
+her exacting jealousies and irritable doubts.
+
+“It is strange,” said he, one evening, as he was conversing with
+Florence, “how complete and triumphant a conquest you have effected over
+Ernest! Will you believe it?--he conceived a prejudice against you when
+he first saw you--he even said that you were made to be admired, not to
+be loved.”
+
+“Ha!--did he so?--true, true--he has almost said the same thing to me.”
+
+“But now how he must love you! Surely he has all the signs.”
+
+“And what are the signs, most learned Lumley?” said Florence, forcing a
+smile.
+
+“Why, in the first place, you will doubtless observe that he never
+takes his eyes from you--with whomsoever he converses, whatever his
+occupation, those eyes, restless and pining, wander around for one
+glance from you.”
+
+Florence sighed, and looked up--at the other end of the room, her lover
+was conversing with Cleveland, and his eyes never wandered in search of
+her.
+
+Ferrers did not seem to notice this practical contradiction of his
+theory, but went on.
+
+“Then surely his whole character is changed--that brow has lost its
+calm majesty, that deep voice its assured and tranquil tone. Has he not
+become humble, and embarrassed, and fretful, living only on your smile,
+reproachful if you look upon another--sorrowful if your lip be less
+smiling--a thing of doubt, and dread, and trembling agitation--slave to
+a shadow--no longer lord of the creation? Such is love, such is the love
+you should inspire, such is the love Maltravers is capable of--for I
+have seen him testify it to another. But,” added Lumley, quickly, and as
+if afraid he had said too much, “Lord Saxingham is looking out for me to
+make up his whist-table. I go to-morrow--when shall you be in town?”
+
+“In the course of the week,” said poor Florence mechanically; and Lumley
+walked away.
+
+In another moment, Maltravers, who had been more observant than he
+seemed, joined her where she sat.
+
+“Dear Florence,” said he, tenderly, “you look pale--I fear you are not
+so well this evening.”
+
+“No affectation of an interest you do not feel, pray,” said Florence,
+with a scornful lip but swimming eyes.
+
+“Do not feel, Florence!”
+
+“It is the first time, at least, that you have observed whether I am
+well or ill. But it is no matter.”
+
+“My dear Florence,--why this tone?--how have I offended you? Has Lumley
+said--”
+
+“Nothing but in your praise. Oh, be not afraid, you are one of those of
+whom all speak highly. But do not let me detain you here; let us join
+our host--you have left him alone.”
+
+Lady Florence waited for no reply, nor did Maltravers attempt to detain
+her. He looked pained, and when she turned round to catch a glance,
+that she hoped would be reproachful, he was gone. Lady Florence became
+nervous and uneasy, talked she knew not what, and laughed hysterically.
+She, however, deceived Cleveland into the notion that she was in the
+best possible spirits. By and by she rose, and passed through the suite
+of rooms: her heart was with Maltravers--still he was not visible. At
+length she entered the conservatory, and there she observed him, through
+the open casements, walking slowly, with folded arms, upon the moonlit
+lawn. There was a short struggle in her breast between woman’s pride and
+woman’s love; the last conquered, and she joined him.
+
+“Forgive me, Ernest,” she said, extending her hand, “I was to blame.”
+
+Ernest kissed the fair hand, and answered touchingly:
+
+“Florence, you have the power to wound me, be forbearing in its
+exercise. Heaven knows that I would not, from the vain desire of showing
+command over you, inflict upon you a single pang. Ah! do not fancy that
+in lovers’ quarrels there is any sweetness that compensates the sting.”
+
+“I told you I was too exacting, Ernest. I told you you would not love me
+so well when you knew me better.”
+
+“And were a false prophetess. Florence, every day, every hour I love you
+more--better than I once thought I could.”
+
+“Then,” cried this wayward girl, anxious to pain herself, “then once you
+did not love me?”
+
+“Florence, I will be candid--I did not. You are now rapidly obtaining an
+empire over me, greater than my reason should allow. But, beware: if my
+love be really a possession you desire,--beware how you arm my reason
+against you. Florence, I am a proud man. My very consciousness of the
+more splendid alliances you could form renders me less humble a lover
+than you might find in others. I were not worthy of you if I were not
+tenacious of my self-respect.”
+
+“Ah!” said Florence, to whose heart these words went home, “forgive me
+but this once. I shall not forgive myself so soon.”
+
+And Ernest drew her to his heart, and felt that, with all her faults, a
+woman whom he feared he could not render as happy as her sacrifices to
+him deserved was becoming very dear to him. In his heart he knew that
+she was not formed to render him happy; but that was not his thought,
+his fear. Her love had rooted out all thought of self from that generous
+breast. His only anxiety was to requite her.
+
+They walked along the sward, silent, thoughtful; and Florence
+melancholy, yet blessed.
+
+“That serene heaven, those lovely stars,” said Maltravers at last, “do
+they not preach to us the Philosophy of Peace? Do they not tell us how
+much of calm belongs to the dignity of man, and the sublime essence of
+the soul. Petty distractions and self-wrought cares are not congenial to
+our real nature; their very disturbance is a proof that they are at war
+with our natures. Ah, sweet Florence, let us learn from yon skies, over
+which, in the faith of the poets of old, brooded the wings of primaeval
+and serenest Love, what earthly love should be,--a thing pure as light,
+and peaceful as immortality, watching over the stormy world, that it
+shall survive, and high above the clouds and vapours that roll below.
+Let little minds introduce into the holiest of affections all the
+bitterness and tumult of common life! Let us love as beings who will one
+day be inhabitants of the stars!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+ “A slippery and subtle knave; a finder out of occasions, that
+  has an eye can stamp and counterfeit advantages.”--_Othello_.
+
+ “Knavery’s plain face is never seen till used.”--_Ibid._
+
+“You see, my dear Lumley,” said Lord Saxingham, as the next day the two
+kinsmen were on their way to London in the earl’s chariot, “you see that
+at the best this marriage of Flory’s is a cursed bore.”
+
+“Why, indeed, it has its disadvantages. Maltravers is a gentleman and
+a man of genius; but gentlemen are plentiful, and his genius only tells
+against us, since he is not even of our politics.”
+
+“Exactly--my own son-in-law voting against me!”
+
+“A practicable, reasonable man would change; not so Maltravers--and all
+the estates, and all the parliamentary influence, and all the wealth
+that ought to go with the family and with the party, go out of the
+family and against the party. You are quite right, my dear lord--it is a
+cursed bore.”
+
+“And she might have had the Duke of ------, a man with a rental
+of L100,000 a year. It is too ridiculous. This Maltravers, d----d
+disagreeable fellow, too, eh?”
+
+“Stiff and stately--much changed for the worse of late years--grown
+conceited and set up.”
+
+“Do you know, Lumley, I would rather, of the two, have had you for my
+son-in-law?”
+
+Lumley half started. “Are you serious, my lord? I have not Ernest’s
+fortune--I cannot make such settlements: my lineage, too, at least on my
+mother’s side, is less ancient.”
+
+“Oh, as to settlements, Flory’s fortune ought to be settled on
+herself,--and as compared with that fortune, what could Mr. Maltravers
+pretend to settle? Neither she nor any children she may have could want
+his L4,000 a year, if he settled it all. As for family, connections tell
+more nowadays than Norman descent,--and for the rest, you are likely to
+be old Templeton’s heir, to have a peerage (a large sum of ready money
+is always useful)--are rising in the House--one of our own set--will
+soon be in office--and, flattery apart, a devilish good fellow into
+the bargain. Oh, I would sooner a thousand times that Flory had taken a
+fancy to you.”
+
+Lumley Ferrers bowed his head but said nothing. He fell into a reverie,
+and Lord Saxingham took up his official red box, became deep in its
+contents, and forgot all about the marriage of his daughter.
+
+Lumley pulled the check-string as the carriage entered Pall Mall, and
+desired to be set down at “The Travellers.” While Lord Saxingham was
+borne on to settle the affairs of the nation, not being able to settle
+those of his own household, Ferrers was inquiring the address of
+Castruccio Cesarini. The porter was unable to give it him. The Signor
+generally called every day for his notes, but no one at the club
+knew where he lodged. Ferrers wrote, and left with the porter a line
+requesting Cesarini to call on him as soon as possible, and he bent
+his way to his house in Great George Street. He went straight into his
+library, unlocked his escritoire, and took out that letter which, the
+reader will remember, Maltravers had written to Cesarini, and which
+Lumley had secured; carefully did he twice read over this effusion, and
+the second time his face brightened and his eyes sparkled. It is now
+time to lay this letter before the reader: it ran thus:--
+
+
+        _“Private and confidential.”_
+
+“MY DEAR CESARINI:
+
+“The assurance of your friendly feelings is most welcome to me. In much
+of what you say of marriage, I am inclined, though with reluctance, to
+agree. As to Lady Florence herself, few persons are more calculated
+to dazzle, perhaps to fascinate. But is she a person to make a home
+happy--to sympathise where she has been accustomed to command--to
+comprehend, and to yield to the waywardness and irritability common to
+our fanciful and morbid race--to content herself with the homage of a
+single heart? I do not know her enough to decide the question; but I
+know her enough to feel deep solicitude and anxiety for your happiness,
+if centred in a nature so imperious and so vain. But you will remind me
+of her fortune, her station. You will say that such are the sources from
+which, to an ambitious mind, happiness may well be drawn! Alas! I fear
+that the man who marries Lady Florence must indeed confine his dreams
+of felicity to those harsh and disappointing realities. But, Cesarini,
+these are not words which, were we more intimate, I would address to
+you. I doubt the reality of those affections which you ascribe to her
+and suppose devoted to yourself. She is evidently fond of conquest. She
+sports with the victims she makes. Her vanity dupes others, perhaps to
+be duped itself at last. I will not say more to you.
+
+   “Yours,
+     E. MALTRAVERS.”
+
+
+“Hurrah!” cried Ferrers, as he threw down the letter, and rubbed his
+hands with delight. “I little thought, when I schemed for this letter,
+that chance would make it so inestimably serviceable. There is less
+to alter than I thought for--the clumsiest botcher in the world could
+manage it. Let me look again. Hem, hem--the first phrase to alter is
+this: ‘I know her enough to feel deep solicitude and anxiety for _your_
+happiness if centred in a nature so imperious and vain’--scratch
+out ‘your,’ and put ‘my.’ All the rest good, good--till we come
+to ‘affections which you ascribe to her, and suppose devoted to
+_yourself_’--for ‘_yourself_’ write ‘_myself_’--the rest will do. Now,
+then, the date--we must change it to the present month, and the work is
+done. I wish that Italian blockhead would come. If I can but once make
+an irreparable breach between her and Maltravers, I think I cannot fail
+of securing his place; her pique, her resentment, will hurry her into
+taking the first who offers, by way of revenge. And by Jupiter, even if
+I fail (which I am sure I shall not), it will be something to keep Flory
+as lady paramount for a duke of our own party. I shall gain immensely
+by such a connection; but I lose everything and gain nothing by her
+marrying Maltravers--of opposite politics too--whom I begin to hate
+like poison. But no duke shall have her--Florence Ferrers, the only
+alliteration I ever liked--yet it would sound rough in poetry.”
+
+Lumley then deliberately drew towards him his inkstand--“No
+penknife!--Ah, true, I never mend pens--sad waste--must send out for
+one.” He rang the bell, ordered a penknife to be purchased, and the
+servant was still out when a knock at the door was heard, and in a
+minute more Cesarini entered.
+
+“Ah,” said Lumley, assuming a melancholy air, “I am glad that you are
+arrived; you will excuse my having written to you so unceremoniously.
+You received my note--sit down, pray--and how are you? you look
+delicate--can I offer you anything?”
+
+“Wine,” said Cesarini, laconically, “wine; your climate requires wine.”
+
+Here the servant entered with the penknife, and was ordered to bring
+wine and sandwiches. Lumley then conversed lightly on different matters
+till the wine appeared; he was rather surprised to observe Cesarini
+pour out and drink off glass upon glass, with an evident craving for the
+excitement. When he had satisfied himself, he turned his dark eyes to
+Ferrers, and said, “You have news to communicate--I see it in your brow.
+I am now ready to hear all.”
+
+“Well, then listen to me; you were right in your suspicions; jealousy
+is ever a true diviner. I make no doubt Othello was quite right, and
+Desdemona was no better than she should be. Maltravers has proposed to
+my cousin; and been accepted.”
+
+Cesarini’s complexion grew perfectly ghastly; his whole frame shook like
+a leaf--for a moment he seemed paralysed.
+
+“Curse him!” said he, at last, drawing a deep breath, and betwixt his
+grinded teeth--“curse him, from the depths of the heart he has broken!”
+
+“And after such a letter to you!--do you remember it?--here it is. He
+warns you against Lady Florence, and then secures her to himself--is
+this treachery?”
+
+“Treachery black as hell! I am an Italian,” cried Cesarini, springing to
+his feet, and with all the passions of his climate in his face, “and
+I will be avenged! Bankrupt in fortune, ruined in hopes, blasted in
+heart--I have still the godlike consolation of the desperate--I have
+revenge.”
+
+“Will you call him out?” asked Lumley, musingly and calmly. “Are you
+a dead shot? If so, it is worth thinking about; if not, it is a
+mockery--your shot misses, his goes in the air, seconds interpose, and
+you both walk away devilish glad to get off so well. Duels are humbug.”
+
+“Mr. Ferrers,” said Cesarini, fiercely, “this is not a matter of jest.”
+
+“I do not make it a jest; and what is more, Cesarini,” said Ferrers,
+with a concentrated energy far more commanding than the Italian’s
+fury, “what is more, I so detest Maltravers, I am so stung by his cold
+superiority, so wroth with his success, so loathe the thought of his
+alliance, that I would cut off this hand to frustrate that marriage! I
+do not jest, man; but I have method and sense in my hatred--it is our
+English way.”
+
+Cesarini stared at the speaker gloomily, clenched his hand, and strode
+rapidly to and fro the room.
+
+“You would be avenged, so would I. Now what shall be the means?” said
+Ferrers.
+
+“I will stab him to the heart--I will--”
+
+“Cease these tragic flights. Nay, frown and stamp not; but sit down, and
+be reasonable, or leave me and act for yourself.”
+
+“Sir,” said Cesarini, with an eye that might have alarmed a man less
+resolute than Ferrers, “have a care how you presume on my distress.”
+
+“You are in distress, and you refuse relief; you are bankrupt in
+fortune, and you rave like a poet, when you should be devising and
+plotting for the attainment of boundless wealth. Revenge and ambition
+may both be yours; but they are prizes never won but by a cautious foot
+as well as a bold hand.”
+
+“What would you have me do? and what but his life would content me?”
+
+“Take his life if you can--I have no objection--go and take it; only
+just observe this, that if you miss your aim, or he, being the stronger
+man, strike you down, you will be locked up in a madhouse for the next
+year or two at least; and that is not the place in which I should like
+to pass the winter--but as you will.”
+
+“You!--you!--But what are you to me? I will go. Good day, sir.”
+
+“Stay a moment,” said Ferrers, when he saw Cesarini about to leave the
+room; “stay, take this chair, and listen to me--you had better--”
+
+Cesarini hesitated, and then, as it were, mechanically obeyed.
+
+“Read that letter which Maltravers wrote to you. You have
+finished--well--now observe--if Florence sees that letter she will not
+and cannot marry the man who wrote it--you must show it to her.”
+
+“Ah, my guardian angel, I see it all! Yes, there are words in this
+letter no woman so proud could ever pardon. Give me it again, I will go
+at once.”
+
+“Pshaw! You are too quick; you have not remarked that this letter was
+written five months ago, before Maltravers knew much of Lady Florence.
+He himself has confessed to her that he did not then love her--so much
+the more would she value the conquest she has now achieved. Florence
+would smile at this letter, and say, ‘Ah, he judges me differently
+now.’”
+
+“Are you seeking to madden me? What do you mean? Did you not just now
+say that, did she see that letter, she would never marry the writer?”
+
+“Yes, yes, but the letter must be altered. We must erase the date;--we
+must date it from to-day;--to-day--Maltravers returns to-day. We must
+suppose it written, not in answer to a letter from you, demanding his
+advice and opinion as to your marriage with Lady Florence, but in answer
+to a letter of yours in which you congratulate him on his approaching
+marriage to her. By the substitution of one pronoun for another, in two
+places, the letter will read as well one way as another. Read it again,
+and see; or stop, I will be the lecturer.”
+
+Here Ferrers read over the letter, which, by the trifling substitutions
+he proposed, might indeed bear the character he wished to give it.
+
+“Does the light break in upon you now?” said Ferrers. “Are you prepared
+to go through a part that requires subtlety, delicacy, address, and,
+above all, self-control?--qualities that are the common attributes of
+your countrymen.”
+
+“I will do all, fear me not. It may be villainous, it may be base; but I
+care not, Maltravers shall not rival, master, eclipse me in all things.”
+
+“Where are you lodging?”
+
+“Where?--out of town a little way.”
+
+“Take up your home with me for a few days. I cannot trust you out of my
+sight. Send for your luggage; I have a room at your service.”
+
+Cesarini at first refused; but a man who resolves on a crime feels the
+awe of solitude, and the necessity of a companion. He went himself to
+bring his effects, and promised to return to dinner.
+
+“I must own,” said Lumley, resettling himself at his desk, “this is the
+dirtiest trick that ever I played; but the glorious end sanctifies
+the paltry means. After all, it is the mere prejudice of gentlemanlike
+education.”
+
+A very few seconds, and with the aid of the knife to erase, and the
+pen to re-write, Ferrers completed his task, with the exception of the
+change of date, which, on second thoughts, he reserved as a matter to be
+regulated by circumstances.
+
+“I think I have hit off his _m_’s and _y_’s tolerably,” said he,
+“considering I was not brought up to this sort of thing. But the
+alteration would be visible on close inspection. Cesarini must read
+the letter to her, then if she glances over it herself it will be with
+bewildered eyes and a dizzy brain. Above all, he must not leave it with
+her, and must bind her to the closest secresy. She is honourable and
+will keep her word; and so now that matter is settled. I have just time
+before dinner to canter down to my uncle’s and wish the old fellow joy.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+ “And then my lord has much that he would state
+  All good to you.”--CRABBE: _Tales of the Heart_.
+
+LORD VARGRAVE was sitting alone in his library, with his account-books
+before him. Carefully did he cast up the various sums which, invested
+in various speculations, swelled his income. The result seemed
+satisfactory--and the rich man threw down his pen with an air of
+triumph.
+
+“I will invest L120,000 in land--only L120,000. I will not be tempted to
+sink more. I will have a fine house--a house fitting for a nobleman--a
+fine old Elizabethan house--a house of historical interest. I must have
+woods and lakes--and a deer-park, above all. Deer are very gentlemanlike
+things, very. De Clifford’s place is to be sold, I know; they ask too
+much for it, but ready money is tempting. I can bargain--bargain, I am
+a good hand at a bargain. Should I be now Lord Baron Vargrave, if I had
+always given people what they asked? I will double my subscriptions
+to the Bible Society and the Philanthropic, and the building of new
+churches. The world shall not say Richard Templeton does not deserve his
+greatness. I will--Come in. Who’s there?--come in.”
+
+The door gently opened--the meek face of the new peeress appeared. “I
+disturb you--I beg your pardon--I--”
+
+“Come in, my dear, come in--I want to talk to you--I want to talk to
+your ladyship--sit down, pray.”
+
+Lady Vargrave obeyed.
+
+“You see,” said the peer, crossing his legs, and caressing his left foot
+with both hands, while he see-sawed his stately person to and fro in
+his chair--“you see that the honour conferred upon me will make a great
+change in our mode of life, Mrs. Temple--I mean Lady Vargrave. This
+villa is all very well--my country house is not amiss for a country
+gentleman--but now we must support our rank. The landed estate I already
+possess will go with the title--go to Lumley--I shall buy another at
+my own disposal, one that I can feel _thoroughly mine_--it shall be a
+splendid place, Lady Vargrave.”
+
+“This place is splendid to me,” said Lady Vargrave, timidly.
+
+“This place--nonsense--you must learn loftier ideas, Lady Vargrave; you
+are young, you can easily contract new habits, more, easily, perhaps,
+than myself. You are naturally ladylike, though I say it--you have good
+taste, you don’t talk much, you don’t show your ignorance--quite right.
+You must be presented at court, Lady Vargrave--we must give great
+dinners, Lady Vargrave. Balls are sinful, so is the opera, at least I
+fear so--yet an opera-box would be a proper appendage to your rank, Lady
+Vargrave.”
+
+“My dear Mr. Templeton--”
+
+“Lord Vargrave, if your ladyship pleases.”
+
+“I beg pardon. May you live long to enjoy your honours; but I, my dear
+lord--I am not fit to share them: it is only in our quiet life that
+I can forget what--what I was. You terrify me when you talk of
+court--of--”
+
+“Stuff, Lady Vargrave! stuff; we accustom ourselves to these things. Do
+I look like a man who has stood behind a counter? rank is a glove that
+stretches to the hand that wears it. And the child, dear child,--dear
+Evelyn, she shall be the admiration of London, the beauty, the heiress,
+the--oh, she will do me honour!”
+
+“She will, she will!” said Lady Vargrave, and the tears gushed from her
+eyes.
+
+Lord Vargrave was softened.
+
+“No mother ever deserved more from a child than you from Evelyn.”
+
+“I would hope I have done my duty,” said Lady Vargrave, drying her
+tears.
+
+“Papa, papa!” cried an impatient voice, tapping at the window, “come and
+play, papa--come and play at ball, papa!”
+
+And there, by the window, stood that beautiful child, glowing with
+health and mirth--her light hair tossed from her forehead, her sweet
+mouth dimpled with smiles.
+
+“My darling, go on the lawn,--don’t over-exert yourself--you have not
+quite recovered that horrid sprain--I will join you immediately--bless
+you!”
+
+“Don’t be long, papa--nobody plays so nicely as you do;” and, nodding
+and laughing from very glee, away scampered the young fairy. Lord
+Vargrave turned to his wife.
+
+“What think you of my nephew--of Lumley?” said he, abruptly.
+
+“He seems all that is amiable, frank, and kind.”
+
+Lord Vargrave’s brow became thoughtful. “I think so too,” he said, after
+a short pause; “and I hope you will approve of what I mean to do. You
+see Lumley was brought up to regard himself as my heir--I owe something
+to him, beyond the poor estate which goes with, but never can adequately
+support, _my_ title. Family honours, hereditary rank, must be properly
+regarded. But that dear girl--I shall leave her the bulk of my fortune.
+Could we not unite the fortune and the title? It would secure the rank
+to her, it would incorporate all my desires--all my duties.”
+
+“But,” said Lady Vargrave, with evident surprise, “if I understand you
+rightly, the disparity of years--”
+
+“And what then, what then, Lady Vargrave? Is there no disparity of years
+between _us_?--a greater disparity than between Lumley and that tall
+girl. Lumley is a mere youth, a youth still, five-and-thirty; he will
+be little more than forty when they marry; I was between fifty and sixty
+when I married you, Lady Vargrave. I don’t like boy and girl marriages:
+a man should be older than his wife. But you are so romantic, Lady
+Vargrave. Besides, Lumley is so gay and good-looking, and wears so well.
+He has been very nearly forming another attachment; but that, I trust,
+is out of his head now. They must like each other. You will not gainsay
+me, Lady Vargrave, and if anything happens to me--life is uncertain--”
+
+“Oh, do not speak so--my friend, my benefactor!”
+
+“Why, indeed,” resumed his lordship, mildly, “thank Heaven, I am very
+well--feel younger than ever I did--but still life is uncertain; and
+if you survive me, you will not throw obstacles in the way of my grand
+scheme?”
+
+“I--no,--no--of course you have the right in all things over her
+destiny; but so young--so soft-hearted, if she should love one of her
+own years--”
+
+“Love!--pooh! love does not come into girls’ heads unless it is put
+there. We will bring her up to love Lumley. I have another reason--a
+cogent one--our secret!--to him it can be confided--it should not go out
+of our family. Even in my grave I could not rest if a slur were cast on
+my respectability--my name.”
+
+Lord Vargrave spoke solemnly and warmly; then muttering to himself,
+“Yes, it is for the best,” he took up his hat and quitted the room. He
+joined his stepchild on the lawn. He romped with her--he played with
+her--that stiff, stately man!--he laughed louder than she did, and ran
+almost as fast. And when she was fatigued and breathless, he made her
+sit down beside him, in a little summer-house, and, fondly stroking down
+her disordered tresses, said, “You tire me out, child; I am growing too
+old to play with you. Lumley must supply my place. You love Lumley?”
+
+“Oh, dearly, he is so good-humoured, so kind: he has given me such a
+beautiful doll, with such eyes!”
+
+“You shall be his little wife--you would like to be his little wife?”
+
+“Wife! why, poor mamma is a wife, and she is not so happy as I am.”
+
+“Your mamma has bad health, my dear,” said Lord Vargrave, a little
+discomposed. “But it is a fine thing to be a wife and have a carriage of
+your own, and a fine house, and jewels, and plenty of money, and be your
+own mistress; and Lumley will love you dearly.”
+
+“Oh, yes, I should like all that.”
+
+“And you will have a protector, child, when I am no more.”
+
+The tone, rather than the words, of her stepfather struck a damp into
+that childish heart. Evelyn lifted her eyes, gazed at him earnestly, and
+then, throwing her arms round him, burst into tears.
+
+Lord Vargrave wiped his own eyes, and covered her with kisses.
+
+“Yes, you shall be Lumley’s wife, his honoured wife, heiress to my rank
+as to my fortunes.”
+
+“I will do all that papa wishes.”
+
+“You will be Lady Vargrave, then, and Lumley will be your husband,” said
+the stepfather, impressively. “Think over what I have said. Now let us
+join mamma. But, as I live, here is Lumley himself. However, it is not
+yet the time to sound him:--I hope that he has no chance with that Lady
+Florence.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+          “Fair encounter
+  Of two most rare affections.”--_Tempest_.
+
+MEANWHILE the betrothed were on their road to London. The balmy and
+serene beauty of the day had induced them to perform the short journey
+on horseback. It is somewhere said, that lovers are never so handsome as
+in each other’s company, and neither Florence nor Ernest ever looked so
+well as on horseback. There was something in the stateliness and grace
+of both, something even in the aquiline outline of their features and
+the haughty bend of the neck, that made a sort of likeness between these
+young persons, although there was no comparison as to their relative
+degrees of personal advantage: the beauty of Florence defied all
+comparison. And as they rode from Cleveland’s porch, where the other
+guests yet lingering were assembled to give the farewell greeting, there
+was a general conviction of the happiness destined to the affianced
+ones,--a general impression that both in mind and person they were
+eminently suited to each other. Their position was that which is ever
+interesting, even in more ordinary people, and at that moment they were
+absolutely popular with all who gazed on them; and when the good old
+Cleveland turned away with tears in his eyes and murmured “Bless them!”
+ there was not one of the party who would have hesitated to join the
+prayer.
+
+Florence felt a nameless dejection as she quitted a spot so consecrated
+by grateful recollections.
+
+“When shall we be again so happy?” said she, softly, as she turned back
+to gaze upon the landscape, which, gay with flowers and shrubs, and the
+bright English verdure, smiled behind them like a garden.
+
+“We will try and make my old hall, and its gloomy shades, remind us of
+these fairer scenes, my Florence.”
+
+“Ah! describe to me the character of your place. We shall live there
+principally, shall we not? I am sure I shall like it much better than
+Marsden Court, which is the name of that huge pile of arches and columns
+in Vanbrugh’s heaviest taste, which will soon be yours.”
+
+“I fear we shall never dispose of all your mighty retinue, grooms of the
+chamber, and Patagonian footmen, and Heaven knows who besides, in the
+holes and corners of Burleigh,” said Ernest smiling. And then he went
+on to describe the old place with something of a well-born country
+gentleman’s not displeasing pride; and Florence listened, and they
+planned, and altered, and added, and improved, and laid out a map for
+the future. From that topic they turned to another, equally interesting
+to Florence. The work in which Maltravers had been engaged was
+completed, was in the hands of the printer, and Florence amused herself
+with conjectures as to the criticisms it would provoke. She was certain
+that all that had most pleased her would be _caviare_ to the multitude.
+She never would believe that any one could understand Maltravers but
+herself. Thus time flew on till they passed that part of the road in
+which had occurred Ernest’s adventure with Mrs. Templeton’s daughter.
+Maltravers paused abruptly in the midst of his glowing periods, as
+the spot awakened its associations and reminiscences, and looked
+round anxiously and inquiringly. But the fair apparition was not again
+visible; and whatever impression the place produced, it gradually died
+away as they entered the suburbs of the great metropolis. Two other
+gentlemen and a young lady of thirty-three (I had almost forgotten
+them) were of the party, but they had the tact to linger a little behind
+during the greater part of the road, and the young lady, who was a wit
+and a flirt, found gossip and sentiment for both the cavaliers.
+
+“Will you come to us this evening?” asked Florence, timidly.
+
+“I fear I shall not be able. I have several matters to arrange before
+I leave town for Burleigh, which I must do next week. Three months,
+dearest Florence, will scarcely suffice to make Burleigh put on its best
+looks to greet its new mistress; and I have already appointed the great
+modern magicians of draperies and ormolu to consult how we may make
+Aladdin’s palace fit for the reception of the new princess. Lawyers,
+too!--in short, I expect to be fully occupied. But to-morrow, at three,
+I shall be with you, and we can ride out, if the day be fine.”
+
+“Surely,” said Florence, “yonder is Signor Cesarini--how haggard and
+altered he appears!”
+
+Maltravers, turning his eyes towards the spot to which Florence pointed,
+saw Cesarini emerging from a lane, with a porter behind him carrying
+some books and a trunk. The Italian, who was talking and gesticulating
+as to himself, did not perceive them.
+
+“Poor Castruccio! he seems leaving his lodging,” thought Maltravers. “By
+this time I fear he will have spent the last sum I conveyed to him--I
+must remember to find him out and replenish his stores.--Do not forget,”
+ said he aloud, “to see Cesarini, and urge him to accept the appointment
+we spoke of.”
+
+“I will not forget it--I will see him to-morrow before we meet. Yet it
+is a painful task, Ernest.”
+
+“I allow it. Alas! Florence, you owe him some reparation. He undoubtedly
+once conceived himself entitled to form hopes the vanity of which his
+ignorance of our English world and his foreign birth prevented him from
+suspecting.”
+
+“Believe me, I did not give him the right to form such expectations.”
+
+“But you did not sufficiently discourage them. Ah, Florence, never
+underrate the pangs of hope crushed, of love contemned.”
+
+“Dreadful!” said Florence, almost shuddering. “It is strange, but my
+conscience never so smote me before. It is since I loved that I feel,
+for the first time, how guilty a creature is--”
+
+“A coquette!” interrupted Maltravers. “Well, let us think of the past no
+more; but if we can restore a gifted man, whose youth promised much,
+to an honourable independence and a healthful mind, let us do so. Me,
+Cesarini never can forgive; he will think I have robbed him of you. But
+we men--the woman we have once loved, even after she rejects us, ever
+has some power over us, and your eloquence, which has so often roused
+me, cannot fail to impress a nature yet more excitable.”
+
+Maltravers, on quitting Florence at her own door, went home, summoned
+his favourite servant, gave him Cesarini’s address at Chelsea, bade him
+find out where he was, if he had left his lodgings; and leave at his
+present home, or (failing its discovery) at the “Travellers,” a cover,
+which he made his servant address, inclosing a bank-note of some amount.
+If the reader wonder why Maltravers thus constituted himself the unknown
+benefactor of the Italian, I must tell him that he does not understand
+Maltravers. Cesarini was not the only man of letters whose faults he
+pitied, whose wants he relieved. Though his name seldom shone in the
+pompous list of public subscriptions--though he disdained to affect the
+Maecenas and the patron, he felt the brotherhood of mankind, and a kind
+of gratitude for those who aspired to rise or to delight their species.
+An author himself, he could appreciate the vast debt which the world
+owes to authors, and pays but by calumny in life and barren laurels
+after death. He whose profession is the Beautiful succeeds only
+through the Sympathies. Charity and compassion are virtues taught with
+difficulty to ordinary men; to true genius they are but the instincts
+which direct it to the destiny it is born to fulfil-viz., the discovery
+and redemption of new tracts in our common nature. Genius--the Sublime
+Missionary--goes forth from the serene Intellect of the Author to live
+in the wants, the griefs, the infirmities of others, in order that it
+may learn their language; and as its highest achievement is Pathos, so
+its most absolute requisite is Pity!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+ “_Don John._ How canst thou cross this marriage?
+
+ “_Borachio._ Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly, that no
+  dishonesty shall appear in me, my lord.”--_Much Ado about Nothing_.
+
+FERRERS and Cesarini were both sitting over their wine, and both had
+sunk into silence, for they had only one subject in common, when a note
+was brought to Lumley from Lady Florence.--“This is lucky enough!” said
+he, as he read it. “Lady Florence wishes to see you, and incloses me a
+note for you, which she asks me to address and forward to you. There it
+is.”
+
+Cesarini took the note with trembling hands: it was very short, and
+merely expressed a desire to see him the next day at two o’clock.
+
+“What can it be?” he exclaimed; “can she want to apologise, to explain?”
+
+“No, no, no! Florence will not do that; but, from certain words she
+dropped in talking with me, I guess that she has some offer to your
+worldly advantage to propose to you. Ha! by the way, a thought strikes
+me.”
+
+Lumley eagerly rang the bell. “Is Lady Florence’s servant waiting for an
+answer?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Very well--detain him.”
+
+“Now, Cesarini, assurance is made doubly sure. Come into the next
+room. There, sit down at my desk, and write, as I shall dictate, to
+Maltravers.”
+
+“I!”
+
+“Yes, now do put yourself in my hands--write, write. When you have
+finished, I will explain.”
+
+Cesarini obeyed, and the letter was as follows:
+
+
+“DEAR MALTRAVERS,
+
+“I have learned your approaching marriage with Lady Florence Lascelles.
+Permit me to congratulate you. For myself, I have overcome a vain and
+foolish passion; and can contemplate your happiness without a sigh.
+
+“I have reviewed all my old prejudices against marriage, and believe it
+to be a state which nothing but the most perfect congeniality of temper,
+pursuits, and minds, can render bearable. How rare is such congeniality!
+In your case it may exist. The affections of that beautiful being are
+doubtless ardent--and they are yours!
+
+“Write me a line by the bearer to assure me of your belief in my
+sincerity.
+
+   “Yours,
+
+     “C. CESARINI.”
+
+
+“Copy out this letter, I want its ditto--quick. Now seal and direct the
+duplicate,” continued Ferrers; “that’s right; go into the hall, give it
+yourself to Lady Florence’s servant, and beg him to take it to Seamore
+Place, wait for an answer, and bring it here; by which time you will
+have a note ready for Lady Florence. Say I will mention this to her
+ladyship, and give the man half-a-crown. There, begone.”
+
+“I do not understand a word of this,” said Cesarini, when he returned:
+“will you explain?”
+
+“Certainly; the copy of the note you have despatched to Maltravers I
+shall show to Lady Florence this evening, as a proof of your sobered
+and generous feelings; observe, it is so written, that the old letter of
+your rival may seem an exact reply to it. To-morrow a reference to this
+note of yours will bring out our scheme more easily; and if you follow
+my instructions, you will not seem to _volunteer_ showing our handiwork,
+as we at first intended; but rather to yield it to her eyes, from
+a generous impulse, from an irresistible desire to save her from an
+unworthy husband and a wretched fate. Fortune has been dealing our cards
+for us, and has turned up the ace. Three to one now on the odd trick.
+Maltravers, too, is at home. I called at his house, on returning from my
+uncle’s, and learned that he would not stir out all the evening.”
+
+In due time came the answer from Ernest: it was short and hurried; but
+full of all the manly kindness of his nature; it expressed admiration
+and delight at the tone of Cesarini’s letter; it revoked all former
+expressions derogatory to Lady Florence; it owned the harshness and
+error of his first impressions; it used every delicate argument that
+could soothe and reconcile Cesarini; and concluded by sentiments of
+friendship and desire of service, so cordial, so honest, so free from
+the affectation of patronage, that even Cesarini himself, half insane as
+he was with passion, was almost softened. Lumley saw the change in his
+countenance--snatched the letter from his hand--read it--threw it into
+the fire--and saying, “We must guard against accidents,” clapped the
+Italian affectionately on the shoulder, and added, “Now you can have no
+remorse; for a more Jesuitical piece of insulting hypocritical cant I
+never read. Where’s your note to Lady Florence? Your compliments, you
+will be with her at two. There, now the rehearsal’s over, the scenes
+arranged, and I’ll dress, and open the play for you with a prologue.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+       “Aestuat ingens
+  Imo in corde pudor, mixtoque insania luctu,
+  Et furiis agitatus amor, et conscia virtus.” *--VIRGIL.
+
+* Deep in her inmost heart is stirred the immense shame, and madness
+with commingled grief, and love agitated by rage, and conscious virtue.
+
+THE next day, punctual to his appointment, Cesarini repaired to his
+critical interview with Lady Florence. Her countenance, which, like
+that of most persons whose temper is not under their command, ever too
+faithfully expressed what was within, was unusually flushed. Lumley
+had dropped words and hints which had driven sleep from her pillow and
+repose from her mind.
+
+She rose from her seat with nervous agitation as Cesarini entered and
+made his grave salutation. After a short and embarrassed pause, she
+recovered, however, her self-possession, and with all a woman’s delicate
+and dexterous tact, urged upon the Italian the expediency of accepting
+the offer of honourable independence now extended to him.
+
+“You have abilities,” she said, in conclusion, “you have friends, you
+have youth; take advantage of those gifts of nature and fortune, and
+fulfil such a career as,” added Lady Florence, with a smile, “Dante did
+not consider incompatible with poetry.”
+
+“I cannot object to any career,” said Cesarini, with an effort, “that
+may serve to remove me from a country that has no longer any charms for
+me. I thank you for your kindness; I will obey you. May you be happy;
+and yet--no, ah! no--happy you must be! Even he, sooner or later, must
+see you with my eyes.”
+
+“I know,” replied Florence, falteringly, “that you have wisely and
+generously mastered a past illusion. Mr. Ferrers allowed me to see the
+letter you wrote to Er---to Mr. Maltravers; it was worthy of you:
+it touched me deeply; but I trust you will outlive your prejudices
+against--”
+
+“Stay,” interrupted Cesarini; “did Ferrers communicate to you the answer
+to that letter?”
+
+“No, indeed.”
+
+“I am glad of it.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Oh, no matter. Heaven bless you; farewell.”
+
+“No; I implore you, do not go yet; what was there in that letter that it
+could pain me to see? Lumley hinted darkly; but would not speak out: be
+more frank.”
+
+“I cannot: it would be treachery to Maltravers, cruelty to you; yet
+would it be cruel?”
+
+“No, it would not; it would be kindness and mercy; show me the
+letter--you have it with you.”
+
+“You could not bear it; you would hate me for the pain it would give
+you. Let me depart.”
+
+“Man, you wrong Maltravers. I see it now. You would darkly slander him
+whom you cannot openly defame. Go; I was wrong to listen to you--go!”
+
+“Lady Florence, beware how you taunt me into undeceiving you. Here is
+the letter, it is his handwriting; will you read it? I warn you not.”
+
+“I will believe nothing but the evidence of my own eyes; give it me.”
+
+“Stay then; on two conditions. First, that you promise me sacredly that
+you will not disclose to Maltravers, without my consent, that you have
+seen this letter. Think not I fear his anger. No! but in the mortal
+encounter that must ensue, if you thus betray me, your character would
+be lowered in the world’s eyes, and even I (my excuse unknown) might
+not appear to have acted with honour in obeying your desire, and warning
+you, while there is yet time, of bartering love for avarice. Promise
+me.”
+
+“I do, I do most solemnly.”
+
+“Secondly, assure me that you will not ask to keep the letter, but will
+immediately restore it to me.”
+
+“I promise it. Now then.”
+
+“Take the letter.”
+
+Florence seized and rapidly read the fatal and garbled document: her
+brain was dizzy, her eyes clouded, her ears rang as with the sound of
+water, she was sick and giddy with emotion; but she read enough. This
+letter was written, then, in answer to Castruccio’s of last night; it
+avowed dislike of her character; it denied the sincerity of her love;
+it more than hinted the mercenary nature of his own feelings. Yes, even
+there, where she had garnered up her heart, she was not Florence,
+the lovely and beloved woman; but Florence, the wealthy and high-born
+heiress. The world which she had built upon the faith and heart of
+Maltravers crumbled away at her feet. The letter dropped from her hands;
+her whole form seemed to shrink and shrivel up; her teeth were set, and
+her cheek was as white as marble.
+
+“O God!” cried Cesarini, stung with remorse. “Speak to me, speak to
+me, Florence! I did wrong; forget that hateful letter! I have been
+false--false!”
+
+“Ah, false--say so again--no, no, I remember he told me--he, so wise,
+so deep a judge of human character, that he would be sponsor for your
+faith--, that your honour and heart were incorruptible. It is true; I
+thank you--you have saved me from a terrible fate.”
+
+“O, Lady Florence, dear--too dear--yet, would that--alas! she does not
+listen to me,” muttered Castruccio, as Florence, pressing her hands to
+her temples, walked wildly to and fro the room. At length she paused
+opposite to Cesarini, looked him full in the face, returned him the
+letter without a word, and pointed to the door.
+
+“No, no, do not bid me leave you yet,” said Cesarini, trembling with
+repentant emotion, yet half beside himself with jealous rage at her love
+for his rival.
+
+“My friend, go,” said Florence, in a tone of voice singularly subdued
+and soft. “Do not fear me; I have more pride in me than even affection;
+but there are certain struggles in a woman’s breast which she could
+never betray to any one--any one but a mother. God help me, I have none!
+Go; when next we meet, I shall be calm.”
+
+She held out her hand as she spoke, the Italian dropped on his knee,
+kissed it convulsively, and, fearful of trusting himself further,
+vanished from the room.
+
+He had not been long gone before Maltravers was seen riding through the
+street. As he threw himself from his horse, he looked up at the window,
+and kissed his hand at Lady Florence, who stood there watching his
+arrival, with feelings indeed far different from those he anticipated.
+He entered the room lightly and gaily.
+
+Florence stirred not to welcome him. He approached and took her hand;
+she withdrew it with a shudder.
+
+“Are you not well, Florence?”
+
+“I am well, for I have recovered.”
+
+“What do you mean? why do you turn from me?”
+
+Lady Florence fixed her eyes on him, eyes that literally blazed; her lip
+quivered with scorn.
+
+“Mr. Maltravers, at length I know you. I understand the feelings with
+which you have sought a union between us. O God! why, why was I thus
+cursed with riches--why made a thing of barter and merchandise, and
+avarice, and low ambition? Take my wealth, take it, Mr. Maltravers,
+since that is what you prize. Heaven knows I can cast it willingly away;
+but leave the wretch whom you long deceived, and who now, wretch though
+she be, renounces and despises you!”
+
+“Lady Florence, do I hear aright? Who has accused me to you?”
+
+“None, sir, none; I would have believed none. Let it suffice that I
+am convinced that our union can be happy to neither: question me no
+further; all intercourse between us is for ever over!”
+
+“Pause,” said Maltravers, with cold and grave solemnity; “another word,
+and the gulf will become impassable. Pause.”
+
+“Do not,” exclaimed the unhappy lady, stung by what she considered
+the assurance of a hardened hypocrisy--“do not affect this haughty
+superiority; it dupes me no longer. I was your slave while I loved you:
+the tie is broken. I am free, and I hate and scorn you! Mercenary and
+sordid as you are, your baseness of spirit revives the differences of
+our rank. Henceforth, Mr. Maltravers, I am Lady Florence Lascelles, and
+by that title alone will you know me. Begone, Sir!”
+
+As she spoke, with passion distorting every feature of her face, all
+her beauty vanished away from the eyes of the proud Maltravers, as if
+by witchcraft: the angel seemed transformed into the fury; and cold,
+bitter, and withering was the eye which he fixed upon that altered
+countenance.
+
+“Mark me, Lady Florence Lascelles,” said he, very calmly, “you have now
+said what you can never recall. Neither in man nor in woman did Ernest
+Maltravers ever forget or forgive a sentence which accused him of
+dishonour. I bid you farewell for ever; and with my last words I condemn
+you to the darkest of all dooms--the remorse that comes too late!”
+ Slowly he moved away; and as the door closed upon that towering and
+haughty form, Florence already felt that his curse was working to its
+fulfilment. She rushed to the window--she caught one last glimpse of him
+as his horse bore him rapidly away. Ah! when shall they meet again?
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+ “And now I live--O wherefore do I live?
+  And with that pang I prayed to be no more.”
+           WORDSWORTH.
+
+IT was about nine o’clock that evening, and Maltravers was alone in
+his room. His carriage was at the door--his servants were arranging
+the luggage--he was going that night to Burleigh. London--society-the
+world--were grown hateful to him. His galled and indignant spirit
+demanded solitude. At this time, Lumley Ferrers entered.
+
+“You will pardon my intrusion,” said the latter, with his usual
+frankness--“but--”
+
+“But what, sir? I am engaged.”
+
+“I shall be very brief. Maltravers, you are my old friend. I retain
+regard and affection for you, though our different habits have of late
+estranged us. I come to you from my cousin--from Florence--there has
+been some misunderstanding between you. I called on her to-day after you
+left the house. Her grief affected me. I have only just quitted her.
+She has been told by some gossip or other some story or other--women are
+credulous, foolish creatures;--undeceive her, and, I dare say, all may
+be settled.”
+
+“Ferrers, if a man had spoken to me as Lady Florence did, his blood
+or mine must have flowed. And do you think that words that might have
+plunged me into the guilt of homicide if uttered by a man, I could ever
+pardon in one whom I had dreamed of for a wife? Never!”
+
+“Pooh, pooh--women’s words are wind. Don’t throw away so splendid a
+match for such a trifle.”
+
+“Do you too, sir, mean to impute mercenary motives to me?”
+
+“Heaven forbid! You know I am no coward, but I really don’t want to
+fight you. Come, be reasonable.”
+
+“I dare say you mean well, but the breach is final--all recurrence to it
+is painful and superfluous. I must wish you good evening.”
+
+“You have positively decided?”
+
+“I have.”
+
+“Even if Lady Florence made the _amende honorable_?”
+
+“Nothing on the part of Lady Florence could alter my resolution. The
+woman whom an honourable man--an English gentleman--makes the partner of
+his life, ought never to listen to a syllable against his fair name: his
+honour is hers, and if her lips, that should breathe comfort in calumny,
+only serve to retail the lie--she may be beautiful, gifted, wealthy, and
+high-born, but he takes a curse to his arms. That curse I have escaped.”
+
+“And this I am to say to my cousin?”
+
+“As you will. And now stay, Lumley Ferrers, and hear me. I neither
+accuse nor suspect you, I desire not to pierce your heart, and in this
+case I cannot fathom your motives; but if it should so have happened
+that you have, in any way, ministered to Lady Florence Lascelles’
+injurious opinions of my faith and honour, you will have much to answer
+for, and sooner or later there will come a day of reckoning between you
+and me.”
+
+“Mr. Maltravers, there can be no quarrel between us, with my cousin’s
+fair name at stake, or else we should not now part without preparations
+for a more hostile meeting. I can bear your language. _I_, too, though
+no philosopher, can forgive. Come, man, you are heated--it is very
+natural;--let us part friends--your hand.”
+
+“If you can take my hand, Lumley, you are innocent, and I have wronged
+you.”
+
+Lumley smiled, and cordially pressed the hand of his old friend.
+
+As he descended the stairs, Maltravers followed, and just as Lumley
+turned into Curzon Street, the carriage whirled rapidly past him, and by
+the lamps he saw the pale and stern face of Maltravers.
+
+It was a slow, drizzling rain,--one of those unwholesome nights frequent
+in London towards the end of autumn. Ferrers, however, insensible to the
+weather, walked slowly and thoughtfully towards his cousin’s house. He
+was playing for a mighty stake, and hitherto the cast was in his favour,
+yet he was uneasy and perturbed. His conscience was tolerably proof to
+all compunction, as much from the levity as from the strength of his
+nature; and (Maltravers removed) he trusted in his knowledge of the
+human heart, and the smooth speciousness of his manner, to win, at last,
+in the hand of Lady Florence, the object of his ambition. It was not
+on her affection, it was on her pique, her resentment, that he relied.
+“When a woman fancies herself slighted by the man she loves, the first
+person who proposes must be a clumsy wooer indeed, if he does not carry
+her away.” So reasoned Ferrers, but yet he was ruffled and disquieted;
+the truth must be spoken,--able, bold, sanguine, and scornful as he was,
+his spirit quailed before that of Maltravers; he feared the lion of that
+nature when fairly aroused: his own character had in it something of a
+woman’s--an unprincipled, gifted, aspiring, and subtle woman’s,--and
+in Maltravers--stern, simple, and masculine--he recognised the
+superior dignity of the “lords of the creation;” he was overawed by the
+anticipation of a wrath and revenge which he felt he merited, and which
+he feared might be deadly.
+
+While gradually, however, his spirit recovered its usual elasticity,
+he came in the vicinity of Lord Saxingham’s house, and suddenly, by
+a corner of the street, his arm was seized: to his inexpressible
+astonishment he recognised in the muffled figure that accosted him the
+form of Florence Lascelles.
+
+“Good heavens!” he cried, “is it possible?--You, alone in the streets,
+at this hour, in such a night, too! How very wrong--how very imprudent!”
+
+“Do not talk to me--I am almost mad as it is: I could not rest--I could
+not brave quiet, solitude,--still less, the face of my father--I
+could not!--but quick, what says he?--What excuse has he? Tell me
+everything--I will cling to a straw.”
+
+“And is this the proud Florence Lascelles?”
+
+“No,--it is the humbled Florence Lascelles. I have done with
+pride--speak to me!”
+
+“Ah, what a treasure is such a heart! How can he throw it away?”
+
+“Does he deny?”
+
+“He denies nothing--he expresses himself rejoiced to have escaped--such
+was his expression--a marriage in which his heart never was engaged. He
+is unworthy of you--forget him.”
+
+Florence shivered, and as Ferrers drew her arm in his own, her ungloved
+hand touched his, and the touch was like that of ice.
+
+“What will the servants think?--what excuse can we make?” said Ferrers,
+when they stood beneath the porch. Florence did not reply; but as the
+door opened, she said softly,--
+
+“I am ill--ill,” and clung to Ferrers with that unnerved and heavy
+weight which betokens faintness.
+
+The light glared on her--the faces of the lacqueys betokened their
+undisguised astonishment. With a violent effort, Florence recovered
+herself, for she had not yet done with pride, swept through the hall
+with her usual stately step, slowly ascended the broad staircase, and
+gained the solitude of her own room, to fall senseless on the floor.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK IX.
+
+  I go, the bride of Acheron.--SOPH. _Antig._
+
+  These things are in the Future.--_Ib._ 1333.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+  * * * “There the action lies
+  In its true nature * * * *
+  * * *  What then? What rests?
+  Try what repentance can!”--_Hamlet_.
+
+ “I doubt he will be dead or ere I come.”--_King John_.
+
+IT was a fine afternoon in December, when Lumley Ferrers turned from
+Lord Saxingham’s door. The knockers were muffled--the windows on the
+third story were partially closed. There was sickness in that house.
+
+Lumley’s face was unusually grave; it was even sad. “So young--so
+beautiful,” he muttered. “If ever I loved woman, I do believe I loved
+her:--that love must be my excuse.... I repent of what I have done--but
+I could not foresee that a mere lover’s stratagem was to end in such
+effects--the metaphysician was very right when he said, ‘We only
+sympathise with feelings we know ourselves.’ A little disappointment in
+love could not have hurt me much--it is d----d odd it should hurt her
+so. I am altogether out of luck: old Templeton--I beg his pardon, Lord
+Vargrave--(by-the-by, he gets heartier every day--what a constitution he
+has!) seems cross with me. He did not like the idea that I should marry
+Lady Florence--and when I thought that vision might have been realised,
+hinted that I was disappointing some expectations he had formed; I can’t
+make out what he means. Then, too, the government have offered that
+place to Maltravers instead of to me. In fact, my star is not in the
+ascendant. Poor Florence, though,--I would really give a great deal
+to know her restored to health!--I have done a villainous thing, but I
+thought it only a clever one. However, regret is a fool’s passion. By
+Jupiter!--talking of fools, here comes Cesarini.”
+
+Wan, haggard, almost spectral, his hat over his brows, his dress
+neglected, his air reckless and fierce, Cesarini crossed the way, and
+thus accosted Lumley:
+
+“We have murdered her, Ferrers; and her ghost will haunt us to our dying
+day!”
+
+“Talk prose; you know I am no poet. What do you mean?”
+
+“She is worse to-day,” groaned Cesarini, in a hollow voice. “I wander
+like a lost spirit round the house; I question all who come from it.
+Tell me--oh, tell me, is there hope?”
+
+“I do, indeed, trust so,” replied Ferrers, fervently. “The illness has
+only of late assumed an alarming appearance. At first it was merely a
+severe cold, caught by imprudent exposure one rainy night. Now they fear
+it has settled on the lungs; but if we could get her abroad, all might
+be well.”
+
+“You think so, honestly?”
+
+“I do. Courage, my friend; do not reproach yourself; it has nothing to
+do with us. She was taken ill of a cold, not of a letter, man!”
+
+“No, no; I judge her heart by my own. Oh, that I could recall the past!
+Look at me; I am the wreck of what I was; day and night the recollection
+of my falsehood haunts me with remorse.”
+
+“Pshaw!--we will go to Italy together, and in your beautiful land love
+will replace love.”
+
+“I am half resolved, Ferrers.”
+
+“Ha!--to do what?”
+
+“To write--to reveal all to her.”
+
+The hardy complexion of Ferrers grew livid; his brow became dark with a
+terrible expression.
+
+“Do so, and fall the next day by my hand; my aim in slighter quarrel
+never erred.”
+
+“Do you dare to threaten me?”
+
+“Do you dare to betray me? Betray one who, if he sinned, sinned on your
+account--in your cause; who would have secured to you the loveliest
+bride, and the most princely dower in England; and whose only offence
+against you is that he cannot command life and health?”
+
+“Forgive me,” said the Italian, with great emotion,--“forgive me, and
+do not misunderstand; I would not have betrayed _you_--there is honour
+among villains. I would have confessed only my own crime; I would never
+have revealed yours--why should I?--it is unnecessary.”
+
+“Are you in earnest--are you sincere?”
+
+“By my soul!”
+
+“Then, indeed, you are worthy of my friendship. You will assume the
+whole forgery--an ugly word, but it avoids circumlocution--to be your
+own?”
+
+“I will.”
+
+Ferrers paused a moment, and then stopped suddenly short.
+
+“You will swear this!”
+
+“By all that is holy.”
+
+“Then mark me, Cesarini; if to-morrow Lady Florence be worse, I will
+throw no obstacle in the way of your confession, should you resolve to
+make it; I will even use that influence which you leave me, to palliate
+your offence, to win your pardon. And yet to resign your hopes--to
+surrender one so loved to the arms of one so hated--it is
+magnanimous--it is noble--it is above my standard! Do as you will.”
+
+Cesarini was about to reply, when a servant on horseback abruptly
+turned the corner, almost at full speed. He pulled in--his eye fell upon
+Lumley--he dismounted.
+
+“Oh, Mr. Ferrers,” said the man breathlessly, “I have been to your
+house; they told me I might find you at Lord Saxingham’s--I was just
+going there--”
+
+“Well, well, what is the matter?”
+
+“My poor master, sir--my lord, I mean--”
+
+“What of him?”
+
+“Had a fit, sir--the doctors are with him--my mistress--for my lord
+can’t speak--sent me express for you.”
+
+“Lend me your horse--there, just lengthen the stirrups.”
+
+While the groom was engaged at the saddle, Ferrers turned to Cesarini.
+“Do nothing rashly,” said he; “I would say, if I might, nothing at
+all, without consulting me; but mind, I rely, at all events, on your
+promise--your oath.”
+
+“You may,” said Cesarini, gloomily.
+
+“Farewell, then,” said Lumley, as he mounted; and in a few moments he
+was out of sight.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+ “O world, thou wast the forest to this hart,
+
+   * * * * *
+
+  Dost thou here lie?”--_Julius Caesar_.
+
+AS Lumley leapt from his horse at his uncle’s door, the disorder and
+bustle of those demesnes, in which the severe eye of the master usually
+preserved a repose and silence as complete as if the affairs of life
+were carried on by clockwork, struck upon him sensibly. Upon the trim
+lawn the old women employed in cleaning and weeding the walks were all
+assembled in a cluster, shaking their heads ominously in concert, and
+carrying on their comments in a confused whisper. In the hall, the
+housemaid (and it was the first housemaid whom Lumley had ever seen in
+that house, so invisibly were the wheels of the domestic machine carried
+on) was leaning on her broom, “swallowing with open mouth a footman’s
+news.” It was as if, with the first slackening of the rigid rein, human
+nature broke loose from the conventual stillness in which it had ever
+paced its peaceful path in that formal mansion.
+
+“How is he?”
+
+“My lord is better, sir; he has spoken, I believe.”
+
+At this moment a young face, swollen and red with weeping, looked down
+from the stairs; and presently Evelyn rushed breathlessly into the hall.
+
+“Oh, come up--come up--cousin Lumley; he cannot, cannot die in your
+presence; you always seem so full of life! He cannot die; you do not
+think he will die? Oh, take me with you, they won’t let me go to him!”
+
+“Hush, my dear little girl, hush; follow me lightly--that is right.”
+
+Lumley reached the door, tapped gently--entered; and the child also
+stole in unobserved or at least unprevented. Lumley drew aside the
+curtains; the new lord was lying on his bed, with his head propped by
+pillows, his eyes wide open, with a glassy, but not insensible stare,
+and his countenance fearfully changed.
+
+Lady Vargrave was kneeling on the other side of the bed, one hand
+clasped in her husband’s, the other bathing his temples, and her tears
+falling, without sob or sound, fast and copiously down her pale fair
+cheeks.
+
+Two doctors were conferring in the recess of the window; an apothecary
+was mixing drugs at a table; and two of the oldest female servants of
+the house were standing near the physicians, trying to overhear what was
+said.
+
+“My dear, dear uncle, how are you?” asked Lumley.
+
+“Ah, you are come, then,” said the dying man, in a feeble yet distinct
+voice; “that is well--I have much to say to you.”
+
+“But not now--not now--you are not strong enough,” said the wife,
+imploringly.
+
+The doctors moved to the bedside. Lord Vargrave waved his hand, and
+raised his head.
+
+“Gentlemen,” said he, “I feel as if death were hastening upon me; I
+have much need, while my senses remain, to confer with my nephew. Is
+the present a fitting time?--if I delay, are you sure that I shall have
+another?”
+
+The doctors looked at each other.
+
+“My lord,” said one, “it may perhaps settle and relieve your mind
+to converse with your nephew; afterwards you may more easily compose
+yourself to sleep.”
+
+“Take this cordial, then,” said the other doctor.
+
+The sick man obeyed. One of the physicians approached Lumley, and
+beckoned him aside.
+
+“Shall we send for his lordship’s lawyer?” whispered the leech.
+
+“I am his heir-at-law,” thought Lumley. “Why, _no_, my dear sir--no, I
+think not, unless he expresses a desire to see him; doubtless my poor
+uncle has already settled his worldly affairs. What is his state?”
+
+The doctor shook his head. “I will speak to you, sir, after you have
+left his lordship.”
+
+“What is the matter there?” cried the patient, sharply and querulously.
+“Clear the room--I would be alone with my nephew.”
+
+The doctors disappeared; the old women reluctantly followed; when,
+suddenly, the little Evelyn sprang forward and threw herself on the
+breast of the dying man, sobbing as if her heart would break.
+
+“My poor child!--my sweet child--my own, own darling!” gasped out Lord
+Vargrave, folding his weak arms round her; “bless you--bless you! and
+God will bless you. My wife,” he added, with a voice far more tender
+than Lumley had ever before heard him address to Lady Vargrave, “if
+these be the last words I utter to you, let them express all the
+gratitude I feel for you, for duties never more piously discharged:
+you did not love me, it is true; and in health and pride that knowledge
+often made me unjust to you. I have been severe--you have had much to
+bear--forgive me.”
+
+“Oh! do not talk thus; you have been nobler, kinder than my deserts. How
+much I owe you--how little I have done in return!”
+
+“I cannot bear this; leave me, my dear, leave me. I may live yet--I hope
+I may--I do not want to die. The cup may pass from me. Go--go--and you,
+my child.”
+
+“Ah, let _me_ stay.”
+
+Lord Vargrave kissed the little creature, as she clung to his neck, with
+passionate affection, and then, placing her in her mother’s arms, fell
+back exhausted on his pillow. Lumley, with handkerchief to his eyes,
+opened the door to Lady Vargrave, who sobbed bitterly, and carefully
+closing it, resumed his station by his uncle.
+
+When Lumley Ferrers left the room, his countenance was gloomy and
+excited rather than sad. He hurried to the room which he usually
+occupied, and remained there for some hours while his uncle slept--a
+long and sound sleep. But the mother and the stepchild (now restored to
+the sick-room) did not desert their watch.
+
+It wanted about an hour to midnight, when the senior physician sought
+the nephew.
+
+“Your uncle asks for you, Mr. Ferrers; and I think it right to say that
+his last moments approach. We have done all that can be done.”
+
+“Is he fully aware of his danger?”
+
+“He is; and has spent the last two hours in prayer--it is a Christian’s
+death-bed, sir.”
+
+“Humph!” said Ferrers, as he followed the physician. The room was
+darkened--a single lamp, carefully shaded, burned on a table, on which
+lay the Book of Life in Death: and with awe and grief on their faces,
+the mother and the child were kneeling beside the bed.
+
+“Come here, Lumley,” faltered forth the fast-dying man.
+
+“There are none here but you three--nearest and dearest to me?--That is
+well. Lumley, then, you know all--my wife, he knows all. My child, give
+your hand to your cousin--so you are now plighted. When you grow up,
+Evelyn, you will know that it is my last wish and prayer that you should
+be the wife of Lumley Ferrers. In giving you this angel, Lumley, I atone
+to you for all seeming injustice. And to you, my child, I secure the
+rank and honours to which I have painfully climbed, and which I am
+forbidden to enjoy. Be kind to her, Lumley--you have a good and frank
+heart--let it be her shelter--she has never known a harsh word. God
+bless you all, and God forgive me--pray for me. Lumley, to-morrow you
+will be Lord Vargrave, and by and by” (here a ghastly, but exultant
+smile flitted over the speaker’s countenance), “you will be my
+Lady--Lady Vargrave. Lady--so--so--Lady Var--”
+
+The words died on his trembling lips; he turned round, and, though he
+continued to breathe for more than an hour, Lord Vargrave never uttered
+another syllable.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+        “Hopes and fears
+  Start up alarmed, and o’er life’s narrow verge
+  Look down--on what?--a fathomless abyss.”--YOUNG.
+
+ “Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adieu!”
+         _Much Ado about Nothing_.
+
+THE wound which Maltravers had received was peculiarly severe and
+rankling. It is true that he had never been what is called violently in
+love with Florence Lascelles; but from the moment in which he had been
+charmed and surprised into the character of a declared suitor, it was
+consonant with his scrupulous and loyal nature to view only the bright
+side of Florence’s gifts and qualities, and to seek to enamour his
+grateful fancy with her beauty, her genius, and her tenderness for
+himself. He had thus forced and formed his thoughts and hopes to centre
+all in one object; and Florence and the Future had grown words which
+conveyed the same meaning to his mind. Perhaps he felt more bitterly
+her sudden and stunning accusations, couched as they were in language so
+unqualified, because they fell upon his pride rather than his affection,
+and were not softened away by the thousand excuses and remembrances
+which a passionate love would have invented and recalled. It was a deep,
+concentrated sense of injury and insult, that hardened and soured his
+whole nature--wounded vanity, wounded pride, and wounded honour.
+
+And the blow, too, came upon him at a time when he was most dissatisfied
+with all other prospects. He was disgusted with the littleness of the
+agents and springs of political life--he had formed a weary contempt
+for the barrenness of literary reputation. At thirty years of age he had
+necessarily outlived the sanguine elasticity of early youth, and he
+had already broken up many of those later toys in business and ambition
+which afford the rattle and the hobby-borse to our maturer manhood.
+Always asking for something too refined and too exalted for human life,
+every new proof of unworthiness in men and things saddened or revolted
+a mind still too fastidious for that quiet contentment with the world
+as it is, which we must all learn before we can make our philosophy
+practical and our genius as fertile of the harvest as it may be prodigal
+of the blossom. Haughty, solitary, and unsocial, the ordinary resources
+of mortified and disappointed men were not for Ernest Maltravers.
+Rigidly secluded in his country retirement, he consumed the days in
+moody wanderings; and in the evenings he turned to books with a spirit
+disdainful and fatigued. So much had he already learned, that books
+taught him little that he did not already know. And the biographies of
+authors, those ghost-like beings who seem to have had no life but in
+the shadow of their own haunting and imperishable thoughts, dimmed the
+inspiration he might have caught from their pages. Those slaves of the
+Lamp, those Silkworms of the Closet, how little had they enjoyed, how
+little had they lived! Condemned to a mysterious fate by the wholesale
+destinies of the world, they seemed born but to toil and to spin
+thoughts for the common crowd--and, their task performed in drudgery and
+in darkness, to die when no further service could be wrung from their
+exhaustion. Names had they been in life, and as names they lived for
+ever, in life as in death, airy and unsubstantial phantoms. It pleased
+Maltravers at this time to turn a curious eye towards the obscure and
+half-extinct philosophies of the ancient world. He compared the Stoics
+with the Epicureans--those Epicureans who had given their own version to
+the simple and abstemious utilitarianism of their master. He asked which
+was the wiser, to sharpen pain or to deaden pleasure--to bear all or to
+enjoy all; and, by a natural reaction which often happens to us in life,
+this man, hitherto so earnest, active-spirited, and resolved on great
+things, began to yearn for the drowsy pleasures of indolence. The
+garden grew more tempting than the porch. He seriously revolved the old
+alternative of the Grecian demi-god--might it not be wiser to abandon
+the grave pursuits to which he had been addicted, to dethrone the
+august but severe ideal in his heart, to cultivate the light loves and
+voluptuous trifles of the herd, and to plant the brief space of youth
+yet left to him with the myrtle and the rose? As water flows over
+water, so new schemes rolled upon new--sweeping away every momentary
+impression, and leaving the surface facile equally to receive and to
+forget. Such is the common state with men of imagination in those crises
+of life, when some great revolution of designs and hopes unsettles
+elements too susceptible of every changing wind. And thus the weak
+are destroyed, while the strong relapse, after terrible but unknown
+convulsions, into that solemn harmony and order from which destiny and
+God draw their uses to mankind.
+
+It was from this irresolute contest between antagonist principles that
+Maltravers was aroused by the following letter from Florence Lascelles:
+
+
+“For three days and three sleepless nights I have debated with myself
+whether or not I ought to address you. Oh, Ernest, were I what I was,
+in health, in pride, I might fear that, generous as you are, you would
+misconstrue my appeal; but that is now impossible. Our union never can
+take place, and my hopes bound themselves to one sweet and melancholy
+hope, that you will remove from my last hours the cold and dark shadow
+of your resentment. We have both been cruelly deceived and betrayed.
+Three days ago I discovered the perfidy that has been practised against
+us. And then, ah! then, with all the weak human anguish of discovering
+it too late (_your curse is fulfilled_, Ernest!), I had at least one
+moment of proud, of exquisite rapture. Ernest Maltravers, the hero of my
+dreams, stood pure and lofty as of old--a thing it was not unworthy to
+love, to mourn, to die for. A letter in your handwriting had been
+shown to me, garbled and altered, as it seems--but I detected not
+the imposture--it was yourself, yourself alone, brought in false and
+horrible witness against yourself! And could you think that any other
+evidence, the words, the oaths of others, would have convicted you in
+my eyes? There you wronged me. But I deserved it--I had bound myself to
+secrecy--the seal is taken from my lips in order to be set upon my tomb.
+Ernest, beloved Ernest--beloved till the last breath is extinct--till
+the last throb of this heart is stilled--write me one word of comfort
+and of pardon. You will believe what I have imperfectly written, for
+you ever trusted my faith, if you have blamed my faults. I am now
+comparatively happy--a word from you will, make me blest. And Fate
+has, perhaps, been more merciful to both, than in our shortsighted and
+querulous human vision, we might, perhaps, believe; for now that the
+frame is brought low--and in the solitude of my chamber I can duly and
+humbly commune with mine own heart, I see the aspect of those faults
+which I once mistook for virtues--and feel that, had we been united, I,
+loving you ever, might not have constituted your happiness, and so have
+known the misery of losing your affection. May He who formed you for
+glorious and yet all unaccomplished purposes strengthen you, when these
+eyes can no longer sparkle at your triumphs, or weep at your lightest
+sorrow. You will go on in your broad and luminous career:--a few years,
+and my remembrance will have left but the vestige of a dream behind.
+But, but--I can write no more. God bless you!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+ “Oh, stop this headlong current of your goodness;
+  It comes too fast upon a feeble soul.”
+         DRYDEN: _Sebastian and Doras_.
+
+THE smooth physician had paid his evening visit; Lord Saxingham had gone
+to a cabinet dinner, for Life must ever walk side by side with Death:
+and Lady Florence Lascelles was alone. It was a room adjoining her
+sleeping-apartment--a room in which, in the palmy days of the brilliant
+and wayward heiress, she had loved to display her fanciful and peculiar
+taste. There had she been accustomed to muse, to write, to study--there
+had she first been dazzled by the novel glow of Ernest’s undiurnal and
+stately thoughts--there had she first conceived the romance of girlhood,
+which had led her to confer with him, unknown--there had she first
+confessed to herself that fancy had begotten love--there had she gone
+through love’s short and exhausting process of lone emotion;--the
+doubt, the hope, the ecstasy; the reverse, the terror; the inanimate
+despondency, the agonised despair! And there now, sadly and patiently,
+she awaited the gradual march of inevitable decay. And books and
+pictures, and musical instruments, and marble busts, half shadowed
+by classic draperies--and all the delicate elegancies of womanly
+refinement--still invested the chamber with a grace as cheerful as if
+youth and beauty were to be the occupants for ever--and the dark and
+noisome vault were not the only lasting residence for the things of
+clay.
+
+Florence Lascelles was dying; but not indeed wholly of that common,
+if mystic malady, a broken heart. Her health, always delicate, because
+always preyed upon by a nervous, irritable, and feverish spirit, had
+been gradually and invisibly undermined, even before Ernest confessed
+his love. In the singular lustre of those large-pupilled eyes--in the
+luxuriant transparency of that glorious bloom,--the experienced might
+long since have traced the seeds which cradled death. In the night
+when her restless and maddened heart so imprudently drove her forth to
+forestall the communication of Lumley (whom she had sent to Maltravers,
+she scarce knew for what object, or with what hope), in that night she
+was already in a high state of fever. The rain and the chill struck the
+growing disease within--her excitement gave it food and fire--delirium
+succeeded; and in that most fearful and fatal of all medical errors,
+which robs the frame, when it most needs strength, of the very principle
+of life, they had bled her into a temporary calm, and into permanent and
+incurable weakness. Consumption seized its victim. The physicians who
+attended her were the most renowned in London, and Lord Saxingham was
+firmly persuaded that there was no danger. It was not in his nature
+to think that death would take so great a liberty with Lady Florence
+Lascelles, when there were so many poor people in the world whom there
+would be no impropriety in removing from it. But Florence knew her
+danger, and her high spirit did not quail before it. Yet, when Cesarini,
+stung beyond endurance by the horrors of his remorse, wrote and
+confessed all his own share of the fatal treason, though, faithful to
+his promise, he concealed that of his accomplice,--then, ah then, she
+did indeed repine at her doom, and long to look once more with the eyes
+of love and joy upon the face of the beautiful world. But the illness of
+the body usually brings out a latent power and philosophy of the soul,
+which health never knows; and God has mercifully ordained it as the
+customary lot of nature, that in proportion as we decline into the
+grave, the sloping path is made smooth and easy to our feet; and every
+day, as the films of clay are removed from our eyes, Death loses the
+false aspect of the spectre, and we fall at last into its arms as a
+wearied child upon the bosom of its mother.
+
+It was with a heavy heart that Lady Florence listened to the monotonous
+clicking of the clock that announced the departure of moments few, yet
+not precious, still spared to her. Her face buried in her hands, she
+bent over the small table beside her sofa, and indulged her melancholy
+thoughts. Bowed was the haughty crest, unnerved the elastic shape that
+had once seemed born for majesty and command--no friends were near,
+for Florence had never made friends. Solitary had been her youth, and
+solitary were her dying hours.
+
+As she thus sat and mused, a sound of carriage wheels in the street
+below slightly shook the room--it ceased--the carriage stopped at the
+door. Florence looked up. “No, no, it cannot be,” she muttered; yet,
+while she spoke, a faint flush passed over her sunken and faded cheek,
+and the bosom heaved beneath the robe, “a world too wide for its shrunk”
+ proportions. There was a silence, which to her seemed interminable, and
+she turned away with a deep sigh, and a chill sinking of the heart.
+
+At this time her woman entered with a meaning and flurried look.
+
+“I beg your pardon, my lady--but--”
+
+“But what?”
+
+“Mr. Maltravers has called, and asked for your ladyship--so, my lady,
+Mr. Burton sent for me, and I said, my lady is too unwell to see any
+one; but Mr. Maltravers would not be denied; and he is waiting in my
+lord’s library, and insisted on my coming up and ‘nouncing him, my
+lady.”
+
+Now Mrs. Shinfield’s words were not euphonistic, nor her voice
+mellifluous; but never had eloquence seemed to Florence so effective.
+Youth, love, beauty, all rushed back upon her at once, brightening her
+eyes, her cheek, and filling up ruin with sudden and deceitful light.
+
+“Well,” she said, after a pause, “let Mr. Maltravers come up.”
+
+“Come up, my lady? Bless me!--let me just ‘range your hair--your
+ladyship is really in such dish-a-bill.”
+
+“Best as it is, Shinfield--he will excuse all.--Go.”
+
+Mrs. Shinfield shrugged her shoulders, and departed. A few moments
+more--a step on the stairs, the creaking of the door,--and Maltravers
+and Florence were again alone. He stood motionless on the threshold. She
+had involuntarily risen, and so they stood opposite to each other, and
+the lamp fell full upon her face. Oh, Heaven! when did that sight cease
+to haunt the heart of Maltravers! When shall that altered aspect not
+pass as a ghost before his eyes!--there it is, faithful and reproachful
+alike in solitude and in crowds--it is seen in the glare of noon--it
+passes dim and wan at night beneath the stars and the earth--it looked
+into his heart and left its likeness there for ever and for ever!
+Those cheeks, once so beautifully rounded, now sunken into lines and
+hollows--the livid darkness beneath the eyes--the whitened lip--the
+sharp, anxious, worn expression, which had replaced that glorious and
+beaming regard from which all the life of genius, all the sweet pride of
+womanhood had glowed forth, and in which not only the intelligence, but
+the eternity of the soul, seemed visibly wrought.
+
+There he stood, aghast and appalled. At length a low groan broke from
+his lips--he rushed forward, sank on his knees beside her, and clasping
+both her hands, sobbed aloud as he covered them with kisses. All the
+iron of his strong nature was broken down, and his emotions, long
+silenced, and now uncontrollable and resistless, were something terrible
+to behold!
+
+“Do not--do not weep so,” murmured Lady Florence, frightened by his
+vehemence; “I am sadly changed, but the fault is mine--Ernest, it is
+mine; best, kindest, gentlest, how could I have been so mad! And you
+forgive me? I am yours again--a little while yours. Ah, do not grieve
+while I am so blessed!”
+
+As she spoke, her tears--tears from a source how different from that
+whence broke the scorching and intolerable agony of his own! fell soft
+upon his bended head, and the hands that still convulsively strained
+hers. Maltravers looked wildly up into her countenance, and shuddered
+as he saw her attempt to smile. He rose abruptly, threw himself into
+a chair, and covered his face. He was seeking by a violent effort to
+master himself, and it was only by the heaving of his chest, and now and
+then a gasp as for breath, that he betrayed the stormy struggle within.
+
+Florence gazed at him a moment in bitter, in almost selfish penitence.
+“And this was the man who seemed to me so callous to the softer
+sympathies--this was the heart I trampled upon--this the nature I
+distrusted!”
+
+She came near him, trembling and with feeble steps--she laid her hand
+upon his shoulder, and the fondness of love came over her, and she wound
+her arms around him.
+
+“It is our fate--it is my fate,” said Maltravers at last, awaking as
+from a hideous dream, and in a hollow but calm voice--“we are the things
+of destiny, and the wheel has crushed us. It is an awful state of
+being this human life!--What is wisdom--virtue--faith to men--piety to
+Heaven--all the nurture we bestow on ourselves--all our desire to win
+a loftier sphere, when we are thus the tools of the merest chance--the
+victims of the pettiest villainy; and our very existence--our very
+senses almost, at the mercy of every traitor and every fool!”
+
+There was something in Ernest’s voice, as well as in his reflections,
+which appeared so unnaturally calm and deep that it startled Florence,
+with a fear more acute than his previous violence had done. He rose,
+and muttering to himself, walked to and fro, as if insensible of her
+presence--in fact he was so. At length he stopped short, and fixing his
+eyes upon Lady Florence, said in a whispered and thrilling tone:
+
+“Now, then, the name of our undoer?”
+
+“No, Ernest, no--never, unless you promise me to forego the purpose
+which I read in your eyes. He has confessed--he is penitent--I have
+forgiven him--you will do so too!”
+
+“His name!” repeated Maltravers, and his face, before very flushed, was
+unnaturally pale.
+
+“Forgive him--promise me.”
+
+“His name, I say,--his name?”
+
+“Is this kind?--you terrify me--you will kill me!” faltered out
+Florence, and she sank on the sofa exhausted: her nerves, now so
+weakened, were perfectly unstrung by his vehemence, and she wrung her
+hands and wept piteously.
+
+“You will not tell me his name?” said Maltravers, softly. “Be it so. I
+will ask no more. I can discover it myself. Fate the Avenger will reveal
+it.”
+
+At the thought he grew more composed; and as Florence wept on, the
+unnatural concentration and fierceness of his mind again gave way,
+and, seating himself beside her, he uttered all that could soothe, and
+comfort, and console. And Florence was soon soothed! And there, while
+over their heads the grim skeleton was holding the funeral pall, they
+again exchanged their vows, and again, with feelings fonder than of old,
+spoke of love.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+        “Erichtho, then,
+  Breathes her dire murmurs, which enforce him bear
+  Her baneful secrets to the spirits of horror.”--MARLOWE.
+
+WITH a heavy step Maltravers ascended the stairs of his lonely house
+that night, and heavily, with a suppressed groan, did he sink upon the
+first chair that proffered rest.
+
+It was intensely cold. During his long interview with Lady Florence, his
+servant had taken the precaution to go to Seamore Place, and make
+some hasty preparations for the owner’s return. But the bedroom looked
+comfortless and bare, the curtains were taken down, the carpets were
+taken up (a single man’s housekeeper is wonderfully provident in these
+matters; the moment his back is turned, she bustles, she displaces, she
+exults; “things can be put a little to rights!”). Even the fire would
+not burn clear, but gleamed sullen and fitful from the smothering fuel.
+It was a large chamber, and the lights imperfectly filled it. On
+the table lay parliamentary papers, and pamphlets, and bills and
+presentation-books from younger authors--evidences of the teeming
+business of that restless machine the world. But of all this Maltravers
+was not sensible: the winter frost numbed not his feverish veins. His
+servant, who loved him, as all who saw much of Maltravers did, fidgeted
+anxiously about the room, and plied the sullen fire, and laid out the
+comfortable dressing-robe, and placed wine on the table, and asked
+questions which were not answered, and pressed service which was not
+heeded. The little wheels of life go on, even when the great wheel is
+paralysed or broken. Maltravers was, if I may so express it, in a kind
+of mental trance. His emotions had left him thoroughly exhausted. He
+felt that torpor which succeeds and is again the precursor of great woe.
+At length he was alone, and the solitude half unconsciously restored
+him to the sense of his heavy misery. For it may be observed, that
+when misfortune has stricken us home, the presence of any one seems to
+interfere between the memory and the heart. Withdraw the intruder, and
+the lifted hammer falls at once upon the anvil! He rose as the door
+closed on his attendant--rose with a start, and pushed the hat from his
+gathered brows. He walked for some moments to and fro, and the air of
+the room, freezing as it was, oppressed him.
+
+There are times when the arrow quivers within us--in which all space
+seems too confined. Like the wounded hart, we could fly on for ever;
+there is a vague desire of escape--a yearning, almost insane, to get out
+from our own selves: the soul struggles to flee away, and take the wings
+of the morning.
+
+Impatiently, at last, did Maltravers throw open his window; it
+communicated with a balcony, built out to command the wide view which,
+from a certain height, that part of the park affords. He stepped into
+the balcony and bared his breast to the keen air. The uncomfortable and
+icy heavens looked down upon the hoar-rime that gathered over the grass,
+and the ghostly boughs of the deathlike trees. All things in the world
+without brought the thought of the grave, and the pause of being,
+and the withering up of beauty, closer and closer to his soul. In the
+palpable and griping winter, death itself seemed to wind around him
+its skeleton and joyless arms. And as thus he stood, and, wearied with
+contending against, passively yielded to, the bitter passions that
+wrung and gnawed his heart,--he heard not a sound at the door--nor
+the footsteps on the stairs--nor knew he that a visitor was in his
+room--till he felt a hand upon his shoulder, and turning round, he
+beheld the white and livid countenance of Castruccio Cesarini.
+
+“It is a dreary night and a solemn hour, Maltravers,” said the Italian,
+with a distorted smile--“a fitting night and time for my interview with
+you.”
+
+“Away!” said Maltravers, in an impatient tone. “I am not at leisure for
+these mock heroics.”
+
+“Ay, but you shall hear me to the end. I have watched your arrival--I
+have counted the hours in which you remained with her--I have followed
+you home. If you have human passions, humanity itself must be dried
+up within you, and the wild beast in his cavern is not more fearful
+to encounter. Thus, then, I seek and brave you. Be still. Has Florence
+revealed to you the name of him who belied you, and who betrayed herself
+to the death?”
+
+“Ha!” said Maltravers, growing very pale, and fixing his eyes on
+Cesarini, “you are not the man--my suspicions lighted elsewhere.”
+
+“I am the man. Do thy worst.”
+
+Scarce were the words uttered, when, with a fierce cry, Maltravers threw
+himself on the Italian;--he tore him from his footing--he grasped him in
+his arms as a child--he literally whirled him around and on high; and in
+that maddening paroxysm, it was, perhaps, but the balance of a feather,
+in the conflicting elements of revenge and reason, which withheld
+Maltravers from hurling the criminal from the fearful height on which
+they stood. The temptation passed--Cesarini leaned safe, unharmed, but
+half senseless with mingled rage and fear, against the wall.
+
+He was alone--Maltravers had left him--had fled from himself--fled into
+the chamber--fled for refuge from human passions to the wing of the
+All-Seeing and All-Present. “Father,” he groaned, sinking on his knees,
+“support me, save me: without Thee I am lost.”
+
+Slowly Cesarini recovered himself, and re-entered the apartment. A
+string in his brain was already loosened, and, sullen and ferocious,
+he returned again to goad the lion that had spared him. Maltravers had
+already risen from his brief prayer. With locked and rigid countenance,
+with arms folded on his breast, he stood confronting the Italian,
+who advanced towards him with a menacing brow and arm, but halted
+involuntarily at the sight of that commanding aspect.
+
+“Well, then,” said Maltravers at last, with a tone preternaturally calm
+and low, “you then are the man. Speak on--what arts did you employ?”
+
+“Your own letter. When, many months ago, I wrote to tell you of the
+hopes it was mine to conceive, and to ask your opinion of her I loved,
+how did you answer me? With doubts, with depreciation, with covert and
+polished scorn, of the very woman whom, with a deliberate treachery, you
+afterwards wrested from my worshipping and adoring love. That letter I
+garbled. I made the doubts you expressed of my happiness seem doubts of
+your own. I changed the dates--I made the letter itself appear written,
+not on your first acquaintance with her, but subsequent to your plighted
+and accepted vows. Your own handwriting convicted you of mean suspicions
+and of sordid motives. These were my arts.”
+
+“They were most noble. Do you abide by them--or repent?”
+
+“For what I have done to _thee_ I have no repentance. Nay, I regard thee
+still as the aggressor. Thou hast robbed me of her who was all the world
+to me--and, be thine excuses what they may, I hate thee with a hate that
+cannot slumber--that abjures the abject name of remorse! I exult in the
+very agonies thou endurest. But for her--the stricken--the dying! O God,
+O God! The blow falls upon mine own head!”
+
+“Dying!” said Maltravers, slowly and with a shudder. “No, no--not
+dying--or what art thou? Her murderer! And what must I be? Her avenger!”
+
+Overpowered with his own passions, Cesarini sank down and covered his
+face with his clasped hands. Maltravers stalked gloomily to and fro the
+apartment. There was silence for some moments.
+
+At length Maltravers paused opposite Cesarini and thus addressed him:
+
+“You have come hither not so much to confess the basest crime of which
+man can be guilty, as to gloat over my anguish and to brave me to
+revenge my wrongs. Go, man, go--for the present you are safe. While she
+lives, my life is not mine to hazard--if she recover, I can pity you
+and forgive. To me your offence, foul though it be, sinks below contempt
+itself. It is the consequences of that crime as they relate to--to--that
+noble and suffering woman, which can alone raise the despicable into
+the tragic and make your life a worthy and a necessary offering--not to
+revenge, but justice:--life for life--victim for victim! ‘Tis the old
+law--‘tis a righteous one.”
+
+“You shall not, with your accursed coldness, thus dispose of me as you
+will, and arrogate the option to smite or save! No,” continued Cesarini,
+stamping his foot--“no; far from seeking forbearance at your hands--I
+dare and defy you! You think I have injured you--I, on the other hand,
+consider that the wrong has come from yourself. But for you, she might
+have loved me--have been mine. Let that pass. But for you, at least, it
+is certain that I should neither have sullied my soul with a vile sin,
+nor brought the brightest of human beings to the grave. If she dies, the
+murder may be mine, but you were the cause--the devil that tempted to
+the offence. I defy and spit upon you--I have no softness left in me--my
+veins are fire--my heart thirsts for blood. You--you--have still the
+privilege to see--to bless--to tend her:--and I--I, who loved her
+so--who could have kissed the earth she trod on--I--well, well, no
+matter--I hate you--I insult you--I call you villain and dastard--I
+throw myself on the laws of honour, and I demand that conflict you defer
+or deny!”
+
+“Home, doter--home--fall on thy knees, and pray to Heaven for
+pardon--make up thy dread account--repine not at the days yet thine to
+wash the black spot from thy soul. For, while I speak, I foresee too
+well that her days are numbered, and with her thread of life is entwined
+thine own. Within twelve hours from her last moment, we shall meet
+again: but now I am as ice and stone,--thou canst not move me. Her
+closing life shall not be darkened by the aspect of blood--by the
+thought of the sacrifice it demands. Begone, or menials shall cast thee
+from my door: those lips are too base to breathe the same air as honest
+men. Begone, I say, begone!”
+
+Though scarce a muscle moved in the lofty countenance of
+Maltravers--though no frown darkened the majestic brow--though no fire
+broke from the steadfast and scornful eye--there was a kingly authority
+in the aspect, in the extended arm, the stately crest, and a power in
+the swell of the stern voice, which awed and quelled the unhappy being
+whose own passions exhausted and unmanned him. He strove to fling back
+scorn to scorn, but his lips trembled, and his voice died in hollow
+murmurs within his breast. Maltravers regarded him with a crushing
+and intense disdain. The Italian with shame and wrath wrestled against
+himself, but in vain: the cold eye that was fixed upon him was as a
+spell, which the fiend within him could not rebel against or resist.
+Mechanically he moved to the door,--then turning round, he shook his
+clenched hand at Maltravers, and, with a wild, maniacal laugh, rushed
+from the apartment.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+ “On some fond breast the parting soul relies.”--GRAY.
+
+NOT a day passed in which Maltravers was absent from the side of
+Florence. He came early, he went late. He subsided into his former
+character of an accepted suitor, without a word of explanation with Lord
+Saxingham. That task was left to Florence. She doubtless performed it
+well, for his lordship seemed satisfied though grave, and, almost for
+the first time in his life, sad. Maltravers never reverted to the cause
+of their unhappy dissension. Nor from that night did he once give way
+to whatever might be his more agonised and fierce emotions--he never
+affected to reproach himself--he never bewailed with a vain despair
+their approaching separation. Whatever it cost him, he stood collected
+and stoical in the intense power of his self control. He had but
+one object, one desire, one hope--to save the last hours of Florence
+Lascelles from every pang--to brighten and smooth the passage across
+the Solemn Bridge. His forethought, his presence of mind, his care,
+his tenderness, never forsook him for an instant: they went beyond
+the attributes of men, they went into all the fine, the indescribable
+minutiae by which woman makes herself, “in pain and anguish,” the
+“ministering angel.” It was as if he had nerved and braced his whole
+nature to one duty--as if that duty were more felt than affection
+itself--as if he were resolved that Florence should not remember that
+_she had no mother_!
+
+And, oh, then, how Florence loved him! how far more luxurious, in its
+grateful and clinging fondness, was that love, than the wild and jealous
+fire of their earlier connection! Her own character, as is often the
+case in lingering illness, became incalculably more gentle and softened
+down, as the shadows closed around it. She loved to make him read and
+talk to her--and her ancient poetry of thought now grew mellowed, as
+it were, into religion, which is indeed poetry with a stronger wing....
+There was a world beyond the grave--there was life out of the chrysalis
+sleep of death--they would yet be united. And Maltravers, who was a
+solemn and intense believer in the GREAT HOPE, did not neglect the
+purest and highest of all the fountains of solace.
+
+Often in that quiet room, in that gorgeous mansion, which had been the
+scene of all vain or worldly schemes--of flirtations and feastings,
+and political meetings and cabinet dinners, and all the bubbles of the
+passing wave--often there did these persons, whose position to each
+other had been so suddenly and so strangely changed--converse on those
+matters--daring and divine--which “make the bridal of the earth and
+sky.”
+
+“How fortunate am I,” said Florence, one day, “that my choice fell on
+one who thinks as you do! How your words elevate and exalt me!--yet once
+I never dreamt of asking your creed on these questions. It is in
+sorrow or sickness that we learn why Faith was given as a soother to
+man--Faith, which is Hope with a holier name--hope that knows neither
+deceit nor death. Ah, how wisely do you speak of the _philosophy_ of
+belief! It is, indeed, the telescope through which the stars grow large
+upon our gaze. And to you, Ernest, my beloved--comprehended and known
+at last--to you I leave, when I am gone, that monitor--that friend; you
+will know yourself what you teach to me. And when you look not on the
+heaven alone but in all space--on all the illimitable creation, you will
+know that I am there! For the home of a spirit is wherever spreads the
+Universal Presence of God. And to what numerous stages of being, what
+paths, what duties, what active and glorious tasks in other worlds may
+we not be reserved--perhaps to know and share them together, and mount
+age after age higher in the scale of being. For surely in heaven there
+is no pause or torpor--we do not lie down in calm and unimprovable
+repose. Movement and progress will remain the law and condition of
+existence. And there will be efforts and duties for us above as there
+have been below.”
+
+It was in this theory, which Maltravers shared, that the character of
+Florence, her overflowing life and activity of thought--her aspirations,
+her ambition, were still displayed. It was not so much to the calm and
+rest of the grave that she extended her unreluctant gaze, as to the
+light and glory of a renewed and progressive existence.
+
+It was while thus they sat, the low voice of Ernest, tranquil yet half
+trembling with the emotions he sought to restrain--sometimes sobering,
+sometimes yet more elevating, the thoughts of Florence, that Lord
+Vargrave was announced, and Lumley Ferrers, who had now succeeded to
+that title, entered the room. It was the first time that Florence had
+seen him since the death of his uncle--the first time Maltravers
+had seen him since the evening so fatal to Florence. Both
+started--Maltravers rose and walked to the window. Lord Vargrave took
+the hand of his cousin and pressed it to his lips in silence, while his
+looks betokened feelings that for once were genuine.
+
+“You see, Lumley, I am resigned,” said Florence, with a sweet smile. “I
+am resigned and happy.”
+
+Lumley glanced at Maltravers, and met a cold, scrutinising, piercing
+eye, from which he shrank with some confusion. He recovered himself in
+an instant.
+
+“I am rejoiced, my cousin, I _am_ rejoiced,” said he, very earnestly,
+“to see Maltravers here again. Let us now hope the best.”
+
+Maltravers walked deliberately up to Lumley. “Will you take my hand
+_now_, too?” said he, with deep meaning in his tone.
+
+“More willingly than ever,” said Lumley; and he did not shrink as he
+said it.
+
+“I am satisfied,” replied Maltravers, after a pause, and in a voice that
+expressed more than his words.
+
+There is in some natures so great a hoard of generosity, that it often
+dulls their acuteness. Maltravers could not believe that frankness could
+be wholly a mask--it was an hypocrisy he knew not of. He himself was
+not incapable, had circumstances so urged him, of great crimes; nay, the
+design of one crime lay at that moment deadly and dark within his heart,
+for he had some passions which in so resolute a character could produce,
+should the wind waken them into storm, dire and terrible effects. Even
+at the age of thirty, it was yet uncertain whether Ernest Maltravers
+might become an exemplary or an evil man. But he could sooner have
+strangled a foe than taken the hand of a man whom he had once betrayed.
+
+“I love to think you friends,” said Florence, gazing at them
+affectionately, “and to you, at least, Lumley, such friendship should be
+a blessing. I always loved you much and dearly, Lumley--loved you as a
+brother, though our characters often jarred.”
+
+Lumley winced. “For Heaven’s sake,” he cried, “do not speak thus
+tenderly to me--I cannot bear it, and look on you and think--”
+
+“That I am dying. Kind words become us best when our words are
+approaching to the last. But enough of this--I grieved for your loss.”
+
+“My poor uncle!” said Lumley, eagerly changing the conversation--“the
+shock was sudden; and melancholy duties have absorbed me so till this
+day, that I could not come even to you. It soothed me, however, to
+learn, in answer to my daily inquiries, that Ernest was here. For
+my part,” he added with a faint smile, “I have had duties as well as
+honours devolved on me. I am left guardian to an heiress, and betrothed
+to a child.”
+
+“How do you mean?”
+
+“Why, my poor uncle was so fondly attached to his wife’s daughter, that
+he has left her the bulk of his property: a very small estate--not L2000
+a year--goes with the title (a new title, too, which requires twice as
+much to carry it off and make its pinchbeck pass for gold). In order,
+however, to serve a double purpose, secure to his _protegee_ his own
+beloved peerage, and atone to his nephew for the loss of wealth--he has
+left it a last request, that I should marry the young lady over whom I
+am appointed guardian, when she is eighteen--alas! I shall then be at
+the other side of forty! If she does not take to so mature a bridegroom,
+she loses thirty--only thirty of the L200,000 settled upon her, which
+goes to me as a sugar-plum after the nauseous draught of the young
+lady’s ‘No.’ Now, you know all. His widow, really an exemplary young
+woman, has a jointure of L1500 a year, and the villa. It is not much,
+but she is contented.”
+
+The lightness of the new peer’s tone revolted Maltravers, and he
+turned impatiently away. But Lord Vargrave, resolving not to suffer the
+conversation to glide back to sorrowful subjects, which he always hated,
+turned round to Ernest, and said, “Well, my dear Ernest, I see by the
+papers that you are to have N------‘s late appointment--it is a very
+rising office. I congratulate you.”
+
+“I have refused,” said Maltravers, drily.
+
+“Bless me!--indeed!--why?”
+
+Ernest bit his lip, and frowned; but his glance wandering unconsciously
+at Florence, Lumley thought he detected the true reply to his question,
+and became mute.
+
+The conversation was afterwards embarrassed and broken up; Lumley went
+away as soon as he could, and Lady Florence that night had a severe
+fit, and could not leave her bed the next day. That confinement she
+had struggled against to the last; and now, day by day, it grew more
+frequent and inevitable. The steps of Death became accelerated. And Lord
+Saxingham, wakened at last to the mournful truth, took his place by his
+daughter’s side, and forgot that he was a cabinet minister.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+ “Away, my friends, why take such pains to know
+  What some brave marble soon in church shall show?”
+           CRABBE.
+
+IT may seem strange, but Maltravers had never loved Lady Florence as he
+did now. Was it the perversity of human nature that makes the things of
+mortality dearer to us in proportion as they fade from our hopes, like
+birds whose hues are only unfolded when they take wing and vanish amidst
+the skies; or was it that he had ever doted more on loveliness of mind
+than that of form, and the first bloomed out the more, the more the last
+decayed? A thing to protect, to soothe, to shelter--oh, how dear it is
+to the pride of man! The haughty woman who can stand alone and requires
+no leaning-place in our heart, loses the spell of her sex.
+
+I pass over those stages of decline gratuitously painful to record; and
+which in this case mine cannot be the cold and technical hand to trace.
+At length came that time when physicians could define within a few days
+the final hour of release. And latterly the mocking pruderies of rank
+had been laid aside, and Maltravers had, for some hours at least in the
+day, taken his watch beside the couch to which the admired and brilliant
+Florence Lascelles was now almost constantly reduced. But her high and
+heroic spirit was with her to the last. To the last she could endure
+love and hope. One day when Maltravers left his post, she besought him,
+with more solemnity than usual, to return that evening. She fixed the
+precise hour, and she sighed heavily when he departed. Maltravers
+paused in the hall to speak to the physician, who was just quitting Lord
+Saxingham’s library. Ernest spoke to him for some moments calmly, and
+when he heard the fiat, he betrayed no other emotion than a slight
+quiver of the lip! “I must not weep for her yet,” he muttered, as he
+turned from the door. He went thence to the house of a gentleman of his
+own age, with whom he had formed that kind of acquaintance which never
+amounts to familiar friendship, but rests upon mutual respect, and
+is often more ready than professed friendship itself to confer mutual
+service. Colonel Danvers was a man who usually sat next to Maltravers in
+parliament; they voted together, and thought alike on principles both
+of politics and honour: they would have lent thousands to each other
+without bond or memorandum; and neither ever wanted a warm and indignant
+advocate when he was abused behind his back in the presence of the
+other. Yet their tastes and ordinary habits were not congenial; and when
+they met in the streets, they never said, as they would to companions
+they esteemed less, “Let us spend the day together!” Such forms of
+acquaintance are not uncommon among honourable men who have already
+formed habits and pursuits of their own, which they cannot surrender
+even to friendship. Colonel Danvers was not at home--they believed he
+was at his club, of which Ernest also was a member. Thither Maltravers
+bent his way. On arriving, he found that Danvers had been at the club
+an hour ago, and left word that he should shortly return. Maltravers
+entered and quietly sat down. The room was full of its daily loungers;
+but he did not shrink from, he did not even heed, the crowd. He felt not
+the desire of solitude--there was solitude enough within him. Several
+distinguished public men were there, grouped around the fire, and many
+of the hangers-on and satellites of political life; they were talking
+with eagerness and animation, for it was a season of great party
+conflict. Strange as it may seem, though Maltravers was then scarcely
+sensible of their conversation, it all came back vividly and faithfully
+on him afterwards, in the first hours of reflection on his own future
+plans, and served to deepen and consolidate his disgust of the world.
+They were discussing the character of a great statesman whom, warmed
+but by the loftiest and purest motives, they were unable to understand.
+Their gross suspicions, their coarse jealousies, their calculations of
+patriotism by place, all that strips the varnish from the face of that
+fair harlot--Political Ambition--sank like caustic into his spirit.
+A gentleman seeing him sit silent, with his hat over his moody brows,
+civilly extended to him the paper he was reading.
+
+“It is the second edition; you will find the last French express.”
+
+“Thank you,” said Maltravers; and the civil man started as he heard
+the brief answer; there was something so inexpressibly prostrate and
+broken-spirited in the voice that uttered it.
+
+Maltravers’s eyes fell mechanically on the columns, and caught his own
+name. That work which, in the fair retirement of Temple Grove it had
+so pleased him to compose--in every page and every thought of which
+Florence had been consulted--which was so inseparably associated with
+her image, and glorified by the light of her kindred genius--was just
+published. It had been completed long since; but the publisher had, for
+some excellent reason of the craft, hitherto delayed its appearance.
+Maltravers knew nothing of its publication; he had meant, after his
+return to town, to have sent to forbid its appearance; but his thoughts
+of late had crushed everything else out of his memory--he had forgotten
+its existence. And now, in all the pomp and parade of authorship, it was
+sent into the world! _Now_, _now_, when it was like an indecent mockery
+of the Bed of Death--a sacrilege, an impiety! There is a terrible
+disconnection between the author and the man---the author’s life and
+the man’s life--the eras of visible triumph may be those of the most
+intolerable, though unrevealed and unconjectured anguish. The book that
+delighted us to compose may first appear in the hour when all things
+under the sun are joyless. This had been Ernest Maltravers’s most
+favoured work. It had been conceived in a happy hour of great
+ambition--it had been executed with that desire of truth, which, in the
+mind of genius, becomes ART. How little in the solitary hours stolen
+from sleep had he thought of self, and that labourer’s hire called
+“fame!” how had he dreamt that he was promulgating secrets to make his
+kind better, and wiser, and truer to the great aims of life! How had
+Florence, and Florence alone, understood the beatings of his heart in
+every page! _And now_!--it so chanced that the work was reviewed in the
+paper he read--it was not only a hostile criticism, it was a personally
+abusive diatribe, a virulent invective. All the motives that can darken
+or defile were ascribed to him. All the mean spite of some mean mind
+was sputtered forth. Had the writer known the awful blow that awaited
+Maltravers at that time, it is not in man’s nature but that he would
+have shrunk from this petty gall upon the wrung withers; but, as I have
+said, there is a terrible disconnection between the author and the man.
+The first is always at our mercy--of the last we know nothing. At such
+an hour Maltravers could feel none of the contempt that proud--none of
+the wrath that vain, minds feel at these stings. He could feel nothing
+but an undefined abhorrence of the world, and of the aims and objects
+he had pursued so long. Yet that even he did not then feel. He was in
+a dream; but as men remember dreams, so when he awoke did he loathe his
+own former aspirations, and sicken at their base rewards. It was the
+first time since his first year of inexperienced authorship that abuse
+had had the power even to vex him for a moment. But here, when the cup
+was already full, was the drop that overflowed. The great column of his
+past world was gone, and all else seemed crumbling away.
+
+At length Colonel Danvers entered. Maltravers drew him aside, and they
+left the club.
+
+“Danvers,” said the latter, “the time in which I told you I should need
+your services is near at hand; let me see you, if possible, to-night.”
+
+“Certainly--I shall be, at the House till eleven. After that hour you
+will find me at home.”
+
+“I thank you.”
+
+“Cannot this matter be arranged amicably?”
+
+“No, it is a quarrel of life and death.”
+
+“Yet the world is really growing too enlightened for these old mimicries
+of single combat.”
+
+“There are some cases in which human nature and its deep wrongs will be
+ever stronger than the world and its philosophy. Duels and wars belong
+to the same principle; both are sinful on light grounds and poor
+pretexts. But it is not sinful for a soldier to defend his country from
+invasion, nor for man, with a man’s heart, to vindicate truth and honour
+with his life. The robber that asks me for money I am allowed to shoot.
+Is the robber that tears from me treasures never to be replaced, to go
+free? These are the inconsistencies of a pseudo-ethics, which, as long
+as we are made of flesh and blood, we can never subscribe to.”
+
+“Yet the ancients,” said Danvers, with a smile, “were as passionate as
+ourselves, and they dispensed with duels.”
+
+“Yes, because they resorted to assassination!” answered Maltravers, with
+a gloomy frown. “As in revolutions all law is suspended, so are there
+stormy events and mighty injuries in life which are as revolutions to
+individuals. Enough of this--it is no time to argue like the schoolmen.
+When we meet you shall know all, and you will judge like me. Good day!”
+
+“What, are you going already? Maltravers, you look ill, your hand is
+feverish--you should take advice.”
+
+Maltravers smiled--but the smile was not like his own--shook his head,
+and strode rapidly away.
+
+Three of the London clocks, one after the other, had told the hour
+of nine, as a tall and commanding figure passed up the street towards
+Saxingham House. Five doors before you reach that mansion there is a
+crossing, and at this spot stood a young man, in whose face youth itself
+looked sapless and blasted. It was then March;--the third of March;
+the weather was unusually severe and biting, even for that angry month.
+There had been snow in the morning, and it lay white and dreary in
+various ridges along the street. But the wind was not still in the keen
+but quiet sharpness of frost; on the contrary, it howled almost like a
+hurricane through the desolate thoroughfares, and the lamps flickered
+unsteadily in the turbulent gusts. Perhaps it was the blasts which
+increased the haggardness of aspect in the young man I have mentioned.
+His hair, which was much longer than is commonly worn, was tossed wildly
+from cheeks preternaturally shrunken, hollow, and livid: and the frail,
+thin form seemed scarcely able to support itself against the rush of the
+winds.
+
+As the tall figure, which, in its masculine stature and proportions, and
+a peculiar and nameless grandeur of bearing, strongly contrasted that of
+the younger man, now came to the spot where the streets met, it paused
+abruptly.
+
+“You are here once more, Castruccio Cesarini; it is well!” said the low
+but ringing voice of Ernest Maltravers. “This, I believe, will not be
+our last interview to-night.”
+
+“I ask you, sir,” said Cesarini, in a tone in which pride struggled with
+emotion--“I ask you to tell me how she is; whether you know--I cannot
+speak--”
+
+“Your work is nearly done,” answered Maltravers. “A few hours more, and
+your victim, for she is yours, will bear her tale to the Great Judgment
+Seat. Murderer as you are, tremble, for your own hour approaches!”
+
+“She dies and I cannot see her! and you are permitted that last glimpse
+of human perfectness; you who never loved her as I did; you--hated and
+detested! you--”
+
+Cesarini paused, and his voice died away, choked in his own convulsive
+gaspings for breath.
+
+Maltravers looked at him from the height of his erect and lofty form,
+with a merciless eye; for in this one quarter, Maltravers had shut out
+pity from his soul.
+
+“Weak criminal!” said he, “hear me. You received at my hands
+forbearance, friendship, fostering and anxious care. When your own
+follies plunged you into penury, mine was the unseen hand that plucked
+you from famine, or the prison. I strove to redeem, and save, and raise
+you, and endow your miserable spirit with the thirst and the power of
+honour and independence. The agent of that wish was Florence Lascelles;
+you repaid us well! a base and fraudulent forgery, attaching meanness to
+me, fraught with agony and death to her. Your conscience at last smote
+you; you revealed to her your crime--one spark of manhood made you
+reveal it also to myself. Fresh as I was in that moment from the
+contemplations of the ruin you had made, I curbed the impulse that would
+have crushed the life from your bosom. I told you to live on while life
+was left to her. If she recovered, I could forgive; if she died, I must
+avenge. We entered into that solemn compact, and in a few hours the bond
+will need the seal: it is the blood of one of us. Castruccio Cesarini,
+there is justice in Heaven. Deceive yourself not; you will fall by my
+hand. When the hour comes, you will hear from me. Let me pass--I have no
+more now to say.”
+
+Every syllable of this speech was uttered with that thrilling
+distinctness which seems as if the depth of the heart spoke in the
+voice. But Cesarini did not appear to understand its import. He seized
+Maltravers by the arm, and looked in his face with a wild and menacing
+glare.
+
+“Did you tell me she was dying?” he said. “I ask you that question:
+why do you not answer me? Oh, by the way, you threaten me with your
+vengeance. Know you not that I long to meet you front to front, and
+to the death? Did I not tell you so--did I not try to move your slow
+blood--to insult you into a conflict in which I should have gloried? Yet
+then you were marble.”
+
+“Because _my_ wrong I could forgive, and _hers_--there was then a hope
+that hers might not need the atonement. Away!”
+
+Maltravers shook the hold of the Italian from his arm, and passed on. A
+wild, sharp yell of despair rang after him, and echoed in his ear as
+he strode the long, dim, solitary stairs that led to the death-bed of
+Florence Lascelles.
+
+Maltravers entered the room adjoining that which contained the
+sufferer--the same room, still gay and cheerful, in which had been his
+first interview with Florence since their reconciliation.
+
+Here he found the physician dozing in a _fauteuil_. Lady Florence had
+fallen asleep during the last two or three hours. Lord Saxingham was in
+his own apartment, deeply and noisily affected; for it was not thought
+that Florence could survive the night.
+
+Maltravers sat himself quietly down. Before him, on a table, lay several
+manuscript books, gaily and gorgeously bound; he mechanically opened
+them. Florence’s fair, noble Italian characters met his eye in every
+page. Her rich and active mind, her love for poetry, her thirst for
+knowledge, her indulgence of deep thought, spoke from those pages
+like the ghosts of herself. Often, underscored with the marks of her
+approbation, he chanced upon extracts from his own works, sometimes upon
+reflections by the writer herself, not inferior in truth and depth to
+his own; snatches of wild verse never completed, but of a power
+and energy beyond the delicate grace of lady-poets; brief, vigorous
+criticisms on books, above the common holiday studies of the sex;
+indignant and sarcastic aphorisms on the real world, with high and sad
+bursts of feeling upon the ideal one; all chequering and enriching the
+various volumes, told of the rare gifts with which this singular girl
+was endowed--a herbal, as it were, of withered blossoms that might have
+borne Hesperian fruits. And sometimes in these outpourings of the
+full mind and laden heart were allusions to himself, so tender and so
+touching--the pencilled outline of his features, traced by memory in
+a thousand aspects--the reference to former interviews and
+conversations--the dates and hours marked with a woman’s minute and
+treasuring care!--all these tokens of genius and of love spoke to him
+with a voice that said, “And this creature is lost to you, forever: you
+never appreciated her till the time for her departure was irrevocably
+fixed!”
+
+Maltravers uttered a deep groan; all the past rushed over him. Her
+romantic passion for one yet unknown--her interest in his glory--her
+zeal for his life of life, his spotless and haughty name. It was as if
+with her, Fame and Ambition were dying also, and henceforth nothing but
+common clay and sordid motives were to be left on earth.
+
+How sudden--how awfully sudden had been the blow! True, there had been
+an absence of some months in which the change had operated. But absence
+is a blank, a nonentity. He had left her in apparent health, in the time
+of prosperity and pride. He saw her again--stricken down in body and
+temper--chastened--humbled--dying. And this being, so bright and lofty,
+how had she loved him! Never had he been so loved, except in that
+morning dream, haunted by the vision of the lost and dim-remembered
+Alice. Never on earth could he be so loved again. The air and aspect
+of the whole chamber grew to him painful and oppressive. It was full of
+her--the owner! There the harp, which so well became her muse-like
+form that it was associated with her like a part of herself! There the
+pictures, fresh and glowing from her hand,-the grace--the harmony--the
+classic and simple taste everywhere displayed.
+
+Rousseau has left to us an immortal portrait of the lover waiting
+for the first embraces of his mistress. But to wait with a pulse as
+feverish, a brain as dizzy, for her last look--to await the moment of
+despair, not rapture--to feel the slow and dull time as palpable a load
+upon the heart, yet to shrink from your own impatience, and wish that
+the agony of suspense might endure for ever--this, oh, this is a picture
+of intense passion--of flesh and blood reality--of the rare and solemn
+epochs of our mysterious life--which had been worthier the genius of
+that “Apostle of Affliction”!
+
+At length the door opened; the favourite attendant of Florence looked
+in.
+
+“Is Mr. Maltravers there? Oh, sir, my lady is awake and would see you.”
+
+Maltravers rose, but his feet were glued to the ground, his sinking
+heart stood still--it was a mortal terror that possessed him. With a
+deep sigh he shook off the numbing spell, and passed to the bedside of
+Florence.
+
+She sat up, propped by pillows, and as he sank beside her, and clasped
+her wan, transparent hand, she looked at him with a smile of pitying
+love.
+
+“You have been very, very kind to me,” she said, after a pause, and with
+a voice which had altered even since the last time he heard it. “You
+have made that part of life from which human nature shrinks with dread,
+the happiest and the brightest of all my short and vain existence. My
+own clear Ernest--Heaven reward you!”
+
+A few grateful tears dropped from her eyes, and they fell on the hand
+which she bent her lips to kiss.
+
+“It was not here--nor amidst the streets and the noisy abodes of
+anxious, worldly men--nor was it in this harsh and dreary season of the
+year, that I could have wished to look my last on earth. Could I have
+seen the face of Nature--could I have watched once more with the summer
+sun amidst those gentle scenes we loved so well, Death would have had
+no difference from sleep. But what matters it? With you there are summer
+and Nature everywhere!”
+
+Maltravers raised his face, and their eyes met in silence--it was
+a long, fixed gaze, which spoke more than all words could. Her head
+dropped on his shoulder, and there it lay, passive and motionless,
+for some moments. A soft step glided into the room--it was the unhappy
+father’s. He came to the other side of his daughter, and sobbed
+convulsively.
+
+She then raised herself, and even in the shades of death, a faint blush
+passed over her cheek.
+
+“My good dear father, what comfort will it give you hereafter to think
+how fondly you spoiled your Florence!”
+
+Lord Saxingham could not answer: he clasped her in his arms and wept
+over her. Then he broke away--looked on her with a shudder--
+
+“O God!” he cried, “she is dead--she is dead!”
+
+Maltravers started. The physician kindly approached, and, taking Lord
+Saxingham’s hand, led him from the room--he went mute and obedient like
+a child.
+
+But the struggle was not yet past. Florence once more opened her eyes,
+and Maltravers uttered a cry of joy. But along those eyes the film was
+darkening rapidly, as still through the mist and shadow they sought
+the beloved countenance which hung over her, as if to breathe life into
+waning life. Twice her lips moved, but her voice failed her; she shook
+her head sadly.
+
+Maltravers hastily held to her mouth a cordial which lay ready on the
+table near her, but scarce had it moistened her lips, when her whole
+frame grew heavier and heavier, in his clasp. Her head once more sank
+upon his bosom--she thrice gasped wildly for breath--and at length,
+raising her hand on high, life struggled into its expiring ray.
+
+“_There_--above!--Ernest--that name--Ernest!”
+
+Yes, that name was the last she uttered; she was evidently conscious of
+that thought, for a smile, as her voice again faltered--a smile sweet
+and serene--that smile never seen but on the faces of the dying and the
+dead--borrowed from a light that is not of this world--settled slowly on
+her brow, her lips, her whole countenance; still she breathed, but the
+breath grew fainter! at length, without murmur, sound, or struggle, it
+passed away--the head dropped from his bosom--the form fell from his
+arms-all was over!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+  * * * * “Is this the promised end?”--_Lear_.
+
+IT was two hours after that scene before Maltravers left the house. It
+was then just on the stroke of the first hour of morning. To him, while
+he walked through the streets, and the sharp winds howled on his path,
+it was as if a strange and wizard life had passed into and supported
+him--a sort of drowsy, dull existence. He was like a sleepwalker,
+unconscious of all around him; yet his steps went safe and free; and the
+one thought that possessed his being--into which all intellect seemed
+shrunk--the thought, not fiery nor vehement, but calm, stern, and
+solemn--the thought of revenge--seemed, as it were, grown his soul
+itself. He arrived at the door of Colonel Danvers, mounted the stairs,
+and as his friend advanced to meet him, said calmly, “Now, then, the
+hour has arrived.”
+
+“But what would you do now?”
+
+“Come with me, and you shall learn.”
+
+“Very well, my carriage is below. Will you direct the servants?”
+
+Maltravers nodded, gave his orders to the careless footman, and the two
+friends were soon driving through the less known and courtly regions of
+the giant city. It was then that Maltravers concisely stated to Danvers
+the fraud that had been practised by Cesarini.
+
+“You will go with me now,” concluded Maltravers, “to his house. To
+do him justice, he is no coward; he has not shrunk from giving me his
+address, nor will he shrink from the atonement I demand. I shall wait
+below while you arrange our meeting--at daybreak for to-morrow.” Danvers
+was astonished and even appalled by the discovery made to him. There was
+something so unusual and strange in the whole affair. But neither his
+experience, nor his principles of honour, could suggest any alternative
+to the plan proposed. For though not regarding the cause of quarrel in
+the same light as Maltravers, and putting aside all question as to the
+right of the latter to constitute himself the champion of the betrothed,
+or the avenger of the dead, it seemed clear to the soldier that a man
+whose confidential letter had been garbled by another for the purpose
+of slandering his truth and calumniating his name, had no option but
+contempt, or the sole retribution (wretched though it be) which the
+customs of the higher class permit to those who live within its pale.
+But contempt for a wrong that a sorrow so tragic had followed--was
+_that_ option in human philosophy?
+
+The carriage stopped at a door in a narrow lane in an obscure suburb.
+Yet, dark as all the houses around were, lights were seen in the upper
+windows of Cesarini’s residence, passing to and fro; and scarce had the
+servant’s loud knock echoed through the dim thoroughfare, ere the door
+was opened. Danvers descended, and entered the passage--“Oh, sir, I am
+so glad you are come!” said an old woman, pale and trembling; “he do
+take on so!”
+
+“There is no mistake,” asked Danvers, halting; “an Italian gentleman
+named Cesarini lodges here?”
+
+“Yes, sir, poor cretur--I sent for you to come to him--for says I to my
+boy, says I--”
+
+“Whom do you take me for?”
+
+“Why, la, sir, you be’s the doctor, ben’t you?”
+
+Danvers made no reply; he had a mean opinion of the courage of one who
+could act dishonourably; he thought there was some design to cheat his
+friend out of his revenge; accordingly he ascended the stairs, motioning
+the woman to precede him.
+
+He came back to the door of the carriage in a few minutes. “Let us go
+home, Maltravers,” said he, “this man is not in a state to meet you.”
+
+“Ha!” cried Maltravers, frowning darkly, and all his long-smothered
+indignation rushing like fire through every vein of his body; “would he
+shrink from the atonement?” He pushed Danvers impatiently aside, leapt
+from the carriage, and rushed up-stairs.
+
+Danvers followed.
+
+Heated, wrought-up, furious, Ernest Maltravers burst into a small and
+squalid chamber; from the closed doors of which, through many chinks,
+had gleamed the light that told him Cesarini was within. And Cesarini’s
+eyes, blazing with horrible fire, were the first object that met his
+gaze. Maltravers stood still, as if frozen into stone.
+
+“Ha! ha!” laughed a shrill and shrieking voice, which contrasted dreadly
+with the accents of the soft Tuscan, in which the wild words were
+strung--“who comes here with garments dyed in blood? You cannot accuse
+me--for my blow drew no blood, it went straight to the heart--it tore no
+flesh by the way; we Italians poison our victims! Where art thou--where
+art thou, Maltravers? I am ready. Coward, you do not come! Oh, yes, yes,
+here you are; the pistols--I will not fight so. I am a wild beast. Let
+us rend each other with our teeth and talons!”
+
+Huddled up like a heap of confused and jointless limbs in the furthest
+corner of the room, lay the wretch, a raving maniac;--two men keeping
+their firm gripe on him, which, ever and anon, with the mighty strength
+of madness, he shook off, to fall back senseless and exhausted; his
+strained and bloodshot eyes starting from their sockets, the slaver
+gathering round his lips, his raven hair standing on end, his delicate
+and symmetrical features distorted into a hideous and Gorgon aspect. It
+was, indeed, an appalling and sublime spectacle, full of an awful moral,
+the meeting of the foes! Here stood Maltravers, strong beyond the common
+strength of men, in health, power, conscious superiority, premeditated
+vengeance--wise, gifted; all his faculties ripe, developed, at his
+command;--the complete and all-armed man, prepared for defence and
+offence against every foe--a man who, once roused in a righteous
+quarrel, would not have quailed before an army; and there and thus was
+his dark and fierce purpose dashed from his soul, shivered into atoms
+at his feet. He felt the nothingness of man and man’s wrath--in the
+presence of the madman on whose head the thunderbolt of a greater curse
+than human anger ever breathes had fallen. In his horrible affliction
+the Criminal triumphed over the Avenger!
+
+“Yes! yes!” shouted Cesarini, again; “they tell me she is dying; but
+he is by her side;--pluck him thence--he shall not touch her hand--she
+shall not bless him--she is mine--if I killed her, I have saved her from
+him--she is mine in death. Let me in, I say,--I will come in,--I will, I
+will see her, and strangle him at her feet.” With that, by a tremendous
+effort, he tore himself from the clutch of his holders, and with a
+sudden and exultant bound sprang across the room, and stood face to
+face with Maltravers. The proud brave than turned pale, and recoiled a
+step--“It is he! it is he!” shrieked the maniac, and he leaped like a
+tiger at the throat of his rival. Maltravers quickly seized his arm, and
+whirled him round. Cesarini fell heavily on the floor, mute, senseless,
+and in strong convulsions.
+
+“Mysterious Providence!” murmured Maltravers, “thou hast justly rebuked
+the mortal for dreaming he might arrogate to himself thy privilege of
+vengeance. Forgive the sinner, O God, as I do--as thou teachest this
+stubborn heart to forgive--as she forgave who is now with thee, a
+blessed saint in heaven!”
+
+When, some minutes afterwards, the doctor, who had been sent for,
+arrived, the head of the stricken patient lay on the lap of his foe, and
+it was the hand of Maltravers that wiped the froth from the white lips,
+and the voice of Maltravers that strove to soothe, and the tears of
+Maltravers that were falling on that fiery brow.
+
+“Tend him, sir, tend him as my brother,” said Maltravers, hiding his
+face as he resigned the charge. “Let him have all that can alleviate and
+cure--remove him hence to some fitter abode--send for the best advice.
+Restore him, and--and--” He could say no more, but left the room
+abruptly.
+
+It was afterwards ascertained that Cesarini had remained in the streets
+after his short interview with Ernest, that at length he had knocked at
+Lord Saxingham’s door just in the very hour when death had claimed
+its victim. He heard the announcement--he sought to force his way
+up-stairs--they thrust him from the house, and nothing more of him
+was known till he arrived at his own door, an hour before Danvers and
+Maltravers came, in raging frenzy. Perhaps by one of the dim erratic
+gleams of light which always chequer the darkness of insanity, he
+retained some faint remembrance of his compact and assignation with
+Maltravers, which had happily guided his steps back to his abode.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+It was two months after this scene, a lovely Sabbath morning, in the
+earliest May, as Lumley, Lord Vargrave, sat alone, by the window in
+his late uncle’s villa, in his late uncle’s easy-chair--his eyes were
+resting musingly on the green lawn on which the windows opened, or
+rather on two forms that were seated upon a rustic bench in the middle
+of the sward. One was the widow in her weeds, the other was that fair
+and lovely child destined to be the bride of the new lord. The hands of
+the mother and daughter were clasped each in each. There was sadness in
+the faces of both--deeper if more resigned on that of the elder, for the
+child sought to console her parent, and grief in childhood comes with a
+butterfly’s wing.
+
+Lumley gazed on them both, and on the child more earnestly.
+
+“She is very lovely,” he said; “she will be very rich. After all, I
+am not to be pitied. I am a peer, and I have enough to live upon at
+present. I am a rising man--our party wants peers; and though I could
+not have had more than a subaltern’s seat at the Treasury Board six
+months ago, when I was an active, zealous, able commoner, now that I am
+a lord, with what they call a stake in the country, I may open my mouth
+and--bless me! I know not how many windfalls may drop in! My uncle was
+wiser than I thought in wrestling for this peerage, which he won and I
+wear!--Then, by and by, just at the age when I want to marry and have an
+heir (and a pretty wife saves one a vast deal of trouble), L200,000 and
+a young beauty! Come, come, I have strong cards in my hands if I play
+them tolerably. I must take care that she falls desperately in love
+with me. Leave me alone for that--I know the sex, and have never failed
+except in--ah, that poor Florence! Well, it is no use regretting! Like
+thrifty artists, we must paint out the unmarketable picture, and call
+luckier creations to fill up the same canvas!”
+
+Here the servant interrupted Lord Vargrave’s meditation by bringing in
+the letters and the newspapers which had just been forwarded from
+his town house. Lord Vargrave had spoken in the Lords on the previous
+Friday, and he wished to see what the Sunday newspapers said of his
+speech. So he took up one of the leading papers before he opened the
+letters. His eyes rested upon two paragraphs in close neighbourhood with
+each other: the first ran thus:
+
+
+“The celebrated Mr. Maltravers has abruptly resigned his seat for the
+------ of ------, and left town yesterday on an extended tour on
+the Continent. Speculation is busy on the causes of the singular and
+unexpected self-exile of a gentleman so distinguished--in the very
+zenith of his career.”
+
+
+“So, he has given up the game!” muttered Lord Vargrave; “he was never
+a practical man--I am glad he is out of the way. But what’s this about
+myself?”
+
+
+“We hear that important changes are to take place in the government---it
+is said that ministers are at last alive to the necessity of
+strengthening themselves with new talent. Among other appointments
+confidently spoken of in the best-informed circles, we learn that
+Lord Vargrave is to have the place of ------. It will be a popular
+appointment. Lord Vargrave is not a holiday orator, a mere declamatory
+rhetorician--but a man of clear business-like views, and was highly
+thought of in the House of Commons. He has also the art of attaching
+his friends, and his frank, manly character cannot fail to have its due
+effect with the English public. In another column of our journal our
+readers will see a full report of his excellent maiden speech in the
+House of Lords, on Friday last: the sentiments there expressed do the
+highest honour to his lordship’s patriotism and sagacity.”
+
+
+“Very well, very well indeed!” said Lumley, rubbing his hands; and
+turning to his letters, his attention was drawn to one with an enormous
+seal, marked “Private and confidential.” He knew before he opened
+it that it contained the offer of the appointment alluded to in the
+newspaper. He read, and rose exultantly; passing through the French
+windows, he joined Lady Vargrave and Evelyn on the lawn, and, as he
+smiled on the mother and caressed the child, the scene and the group
+made a pleasant picture of English domestic happiness.
+
+Here ends the First Portion of this work: it ends in the view that
+bounds us when we look on the practical world with the outward
+unspiritual eye--and see life that dissatisfies justice,--for life is so
+seen but in fragments. The influence of fate seems so small on the man
+who, in erring, but errs as the egotist, and shapes out of ill some use
+that can profit himself. But Fate hangs a shadow so vast on the heart
+that errs but in venturing and knows only in others the sources of
+sorrow and joy.
+
+Go alone, O Maltravers, unfriendly, remote--thy present a waste, and
+thy past life a ruin, go forth to the future!--Go, Ferrers, light
+cynic--with the crowd take thy way,--complacent, elated,--no cloud upon
+conscience, for thou seest but sunshine on fortune.--Go forth to the
+future!
+
+Human life is compared to the circle.--Is the simile just? All lines
+that are drawn from the centre to touch the circumference, by the law
+of the circle, are equal. But the lines that are drawn from the heart
+of the man to the verge of his destiny--do they equal each other?--Alas!
+some seem so brief, and some lengthen on as for ever.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ernest Maltravers, Complete, by
+Edward Bulwer-Lytton
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+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      Ernest Maltravers, by Edward Bulwer Lytton
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    pre     { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+Project Gutenberg's Ernest Maltravers, Complete, by Edward Bulwer-Lytton
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Ernest Maltravers, Complete
+
+Author: Edward Bulwer-Lytton
+
+Release Date: March 16, 2009 [EBook #7649]
+Last Updated: August 28, 2012
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ERNEST MALTRAVERS, COMPLETE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger and Dagny
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      ERNEST MALTRAVERS
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      By Edward Bulwer Lytton
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      (Lord Lytton)
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0008}.jpg" alt="{0008}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0008}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5>
+
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> DEDICATION:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   TO
+   THE GREAT GERMAN PEOPLE,
+   A race of thinkers and of critics;
+   A foreign but familiar audience,
+   Profound in judgment, candid in reproof, generous in appreciation,
+   This work is dedicated
+   By an English Author.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <blockquote>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1840. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> A WORD TO THE READER PREFIXED TO THE FIRST
+        EDITION OF 1837. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> <b>ERNEST MALTRAVERS.</b> </a>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> <b>BOOK I.</b> </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> <b>BOOK II.</b> </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER I. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER II. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER III. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER IV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER V. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> <b>BOOK III.</b> </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER I. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER II. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER III. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER IV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> BOOK IV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER I. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER II. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER III. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER IV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER V. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER VI. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER VII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER VIII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER IX. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> <b>BOOK V.</b> </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER I. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER II. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER III. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER IV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER V. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER VI. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER VII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER VIII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER IX. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER X. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER XI. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0047"> CHAPTER XII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0048"> CHAPTER XIII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0057"> <b>BOOK VI.</b> </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0049"> CHAPTER I. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0050"> CHAPTER II. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0051"> CHAPTER III. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0052"> CHAPTER IV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0053"> CHAPTER V. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0054"> CHAPTER VI. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0064"> <b>BOOK VII.</b> </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0055"> CHAPTER I. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0056"> CHAPTER II. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0057"> CHAPTER III. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0058"> CHAPTER IV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0059"> CHAPTER V. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0070"> <b>BOOK VIII.</b> </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0060"> CHAPTER I. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0061"> CHAPTER II. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0062"> CHAPTER III. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0063"> CHAPTER IV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0064"> CHAPTER V. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0065"> CHAPTER VI. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0066"> CHAPTER VII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0067"> CHAPTER VIII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0068"> CHAPTER IX. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0080"> <b>BOOK IX.</b> </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0069"> CHAPTER I. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0070"> CHAPTER II. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0071"> CHAPTER III. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0072"> CHAPTER IV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0073"> CHAPTER V. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0074"> CHAPTER VI. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0075"> CHAPTER VII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0076"> CHAPTER VIII. </a>
+      </p>
+    </blockquote>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1840.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      HOWEVER numerous the works of fiction with which, my dear Reader, I have
+      trespassed on your attention, I have published but three, of any account,
+      in which the plot has been cast amidst the events, and coloured by the
+      manner, of our own times. The first of these, <i>Pelham</i>, composed when
+      I was little more than a boy, has the faults, and perhaps the merits,
+      natural to a very early age,&mdash;when the novelty itself of life
+      quickens the observation,&mdash;when we see distinctly, and represent
+      vividly, what lies upon the surface of the world,&mdash;and when, half
+      sympathising with the follies we satirise, there is a gusto in our
+      paintings which atones for their exaggeration. As we grow older we observe
+      less, we reflect more; and, like Frankenstein, we dissect in order to
+      create.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The second novel of the present day,* which, after an interval of some
+      years, I submitted to the world, was one I now, for the first time,
+      acknowledge, and which (revised and corrected) will be included in this
+      series, viz., <i>Godolphin</i>;&mdash;a work devoted to a particular
+      portion of society, and the development of a peculiar class of character.
+      The third, which I now reprint, is <i>Ernest Maltravers</i>,** the most
+      mature, and, on the whole, the most comprehensive of all that I have
+      hitherto written.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      * For <i>The Disowned</i> is cast in the time of our grandfathers, and <i>The
+      Pilgrims of the Rhine</i> had nothing to do with actual life, and is not,
+      therefore, to be called a novel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      ** At the date of this preface <i>Night and Morning</i> had not appeared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For the original idea, which, with humility, I will venture to call the
+      philosophical design of a moral education or apprenticeship, I have left
+      it easy to be seen that I am indebted to Goethe&rsquo;s <i>Wilhelm Meister</i>.
+      But, in <i>Wilhelm Meister</i>, the apprenticeship is rather that of
+      theoretical art. In the more homely plan that I set before myself, the
+      apprenticeship is rather that of practical life. And, with this view, it
+      has been especially my study to avoid all those attractions lawful in
+      romance, or tales of pure humour or unbridled fancy, attractions that, in
+      the language of reviewers, are styled under the head of &ldquo;most striking
+      descriptions,&rdquo; &ldquo;scenes of extraordinary power,&rdquo; etc.; and are derived from
+      violent contrasts and exaggerations pushed into caricature. It has been my
+      aim to subdue and tone down the persons introduced, and the general
+      agencies of the narrative, into the lights and shadows of life as it is. I
+      do not mean by &ldquo;life as it is,&rdquo; the vulgar and the outward life alone, but
+      life in its spiritual and mystic as well as its more visible and fleshly
+      characteristics. The idea of not only describing, but developing character
+      under the ripening influences of time and circumstance, is not confined to
+      the apprenticeship of Maltravers alone, but pervades the progress of
+      Cesarini, Ferrers, and Alice Darvil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The original conception of Alice is taken from real life&mdash;from a
+      person I never saw but twice, and then she was no longer young&mdash;but
+      whose history made on me a deep impression. Her early ignorance and home&mdash;her
+      first love&mdash;the strange and affecting fidelity that she maintained,
+      in spite of new ties&mdash;her final re-meeting, almost in middle-age,
+      with one lost and adored almost in childhood&mdash;all this, as shown in
+      the novel, is but the imperfect transcript of the true adventures of a
+      living woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In regard to Maltravers himself, I must own that I have but inadequately
+      struggled against the great and obvious difficulty of representing an
+      author living in our own times, with whose supposed works or alleged
+      genius and those of any one actually existing, the reader can establish no
+      identification, and he is therefore either compelled constantly to humour
+      the delusion by keeping his imagination on the stretch, or lazily driven
+      to confound the Author <i>in</i> the Book with the Author <i>of</i> the
+      Book.* But I own, also, I fancied, while aware of this objection, and in
+      spite of it, that so much not hitherto said might be conveyed with
+      advantage through the lips or in the life of an imaginary writer of our
+      own time, that I was contented, on the whole, either to task the
+      imagination, or submit to the suspicions of the reader. All that my own
+      egotism appropriates in the book are some occasional remarks, the natural
+      result of practical experience. With the life or the character, the
+      adventures or the humours, the errors or the good qualities, of Maltravers
+      himself, I have nothing to do, except as the narrator and inventor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      * In some foreign journal I have been much amused by a credulity of this
+      latter description, and seen the various adventures of Mr. Maltravers
+      gravely appropriated to the embellishment of my own life, including the
+      attachment to the original of poor Alice Darvil; who now, by the way, must
+      be at least seventy years of age, with a grandchild nearly as old as
+      myself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      E. B. L. <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      A WORD TO THE READER PREFIXED TO THE FIRST EDITION OF 1837.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THOU must not, my old and partial friend, look into this work for that
+      species of interest which is drawn from stirring adventures and a
+      perpetual variety of incident. To a Novel of the present day are
+      necessarily forbidden the animation, the excitement, the bustle, the pomp,
+      and the stage effect which History affords to Romance. Whatever merits, in
+      thy gentle eyes, <i>Rienzi</i>, or <i>The Last Days of Pompeii</i>, may
+      have possessed, this Tale, if it please thee at all, must owe that happy
+      fortune to qualities widely different from those which won thy favour to
+      pictures of the Past. Thou must sober down thine imagination, and prepare
+      thyself for a story not dedicated to the narrative of extraordinary events&mdash;nor
+      the elucidation of the characters of great men. Though there is scarcely a
+      page in this work episodical to the main design, there may be much that
+      may seem to thee wearisome and prolix, if thou wilt not lend thyself, in a
+      kindly spirit, and with a generous trust, to the guidance of the Author.
+      In the hero of this tale thou wilt find neither a majestic demigod, nor a
+      fascinating demon. He is a man with the weaknesses derived from humanity,
+      with the strength that we inherit from the soul; not often obstinate in
+      error, more often irresolute in virtue; sometimes too aspiring, sometimes
+      too despondent; influenced by the circumstances to which he yet struggles
+      to be superior, and changing in character with the changes of time and
+      fate; but never wantonly rejecting those great principles by which alone
+      we can work the Science of Life&mdash;a desire for the Good, a passion for
+      the Honest, a yearning after the True. From such principles, Experience,
+      that severe Mentor, teaches us at length the safe and practical philosophy
+      which consists of Fortitude to bear, Serenity to enjoy, and Faith to look
+      beyond!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It would have led, perhaps, to more striking incidents, and have furnished
+      an interest more intense, if I had cast Maltravers, the Man of Genius,
+      amidst those fierce but ennobling struggles with poverty and want to which
+      genius is so often condemned. But wealth and lassitude have their
+      temptations as well as penury and toil. And for the rest&mdash;I have
+      taken much of my tale and many of my characters from real life, and would
+      not unnecessarily seek other fountains when the Well of Truth was in my
+      reach.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Author has said his say, he retreats once more into silence and into
+      shade; he leaves you alone with the creations he has called to life&mdash;the
+      representatives of his emotions and his thoughts&mdash;the intermediators
+      between the individual and the crowd. Children not of the clay, but of the
+      spirit, may they be faithful to their origin!&mdash;so should they be
+      monitors, not loud but deep, of the world into which they are cast,
+      struggling against the obstacles that will beset them, for the heritage of
+      their parent&mdash;the right to survive the grave!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      LONDON, August 12th, 1837.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      ERNEST MALTRAVERS.
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      BOOK I.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Youth pastures in a valley of its own:
+  The glare of noon&mdash;the rains and winds of heaven
+  Mar not the calm yet virgin of all care.
+  But ever with sweet joys it buildeth up
+  The airy halls of life.&rdquo;
+    SOPH. <i>Trachim</i>. 144-147.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;My meaning in&rsquo;t, I protest, was very honest in the behalf of the
+  maid * * * * yet, who would have suspected an ambush where I was
+  taken?&rdquo;
+    <i>All&rsquo;s Well that Ends Well</i>, Act iv. Sc. 3.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      SOME four miles distant from one of our northern manufacturing towns, in
+      the year 18&mdash;, was a wide and desolate common; a more dreary spot it
+      is impossible to conceive&mdash;the herbage grew up in sickly patches from
+      the midst of a black and stony soil. Not a tree was to be seen in the
+      whole of the comfortless expanse. Nature herself had seemed to desert the
+      solitude, as if scared by the ceaseless din of the neighbouring forges;
+      and even Art, which presses all things into service, had disdained to cull
+      use or beauty from these unpromising demesnes. There was something weird
+      and primeval in the aspect of the place; especially when in the long
+      nights of winter you beheld the distant fires and lights which give to the
+      vicinity of certain manufactories so preternatural an appearance,
+      streaming red and wild over the waste. So abandoned by man appeared the
+      spot, that you found it difficult to imagine that it was only from human
+      fires that its bleak and barren desolation was illumined. For miles along
+      the moor you detected no vestige of any habitation; but as you approached
+      the verge nearest to the town, you could just perceive at a little
+      distance from the main road, by which the common was intersected, a small,
+      solitary, and miserable hovel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Within this lonely abode, at the time in which my story opens, were seated
+      two persons. The one was a man of about fifty years of age, and in a
+      squalid and wretched garb, which was yet relieved by an affectation of
+      ill-assorted finery. A silk handkerchief, which boasted the ornament of a
+      large brooch of false stones, was twisted jauntily round a muscular but
+      meagre throat; his tattered breeches were also decorated by buckles, one
+      of pinchbeck, and one of steel. His frame was lean, but broad and sinewy,
+      indicative of considerable strength. His countenance was prematurely
+      marked by deep furrows, and his grizzled hair waved over a low, rugged,
+      and forbidding brow, on which there hung an everlasting frown that no
+      smile from the lips (and the man smiled often) could chase away. It was a
+      face that spoke of long-continued and hardened vice&mdash;it was one in
+      which the Past had written indelible characters. The brand of the hangman
+      could not have stamped it more plainly, nor have more unequivocally warned
+      the suspicion of honest or timid men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was employed in counting some few and paltry coins, which, though an
+      easy matter to ascertain their value, he told and retold, as if the act
+      could increase the amount. &ldquo;There must be some mistake here, Alice,&rdquo; he
+      said in a low and muttered tone: &ldquo;we can&rsquo;t be so low&mdash;you know I had
+      two pounds in the drawer but Monday, and now&mdash;Alice, you must have
+      stolen some of the money&mdash;curse you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The person thus addressed sat at the opposite side of the smouldering and
+      sullen fire; she now looked quietly up, and her face singularly contrasted
+      that of the man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She seemed about fifteen years of age, and her complexion was remarkably
+      pure and delicate, even despite the sunburnt tinge which her habits of
+      toil had brought it. Her auburn hair hung in loose and natural curls over
+      her forehead, and its luxuriance was remarkable even in one so young. Her
+      countenance was beautiful, nay, even faultless, in its small and
+      child-like features, but the expression pained you&mdash;it was so vacant.
+      In repose it was almost the expression of an idiot&mdash;but when she
+      spoke or smiled, or even moved a muscle, the eyes, colour, lips, kindled
+      into a life, which proved that the intellect was still there, though but
+      imperfectly awakened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not steal any, father,&rdquo; she said in a quiet voice; &ldquo;but I should
+      like to have taken some, only I knew you would beat me if I did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what do you want money for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To get food when I&rsquo;m hungered.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing else?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl paused.&mdash;&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you let me,&rdquo; she said, after a while,
+      &ldquo;why don&rsquo;t you let me go and work with the other girls at the factory? I
+      should make money there for you and me both.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man smiled&mdash;such a smile&mdash;it seemed to bring into sudden
+      play all the revolting characteristics of his countenance. &ldquo;Child,&rdquo; he
+      said, &ldquo;you are just fifteen, and a sad fool you are: perhaps if you went
+      to the factory, you would get away from me; and what should I do without
+      you? No, I think, as you are so pretty, you might get more money another
+      way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl did not seem to understand this allusion: but repeated, vacantly,
+      &ldquo;I should like to go to the factory.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stuff!&rdquo; said the man, angrily; &ldquo;I have three minds to&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here he was interrupted by a loud knock at the door of the hovel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man grew pale. &ldquo;What can that be?&rdquo; he muttered. &ldquo;The hour is late&mdash;near
+      eleven. Again&mdash;again! Ask who knocks, Alice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl stood for a moment or so at the door; and as she stood, her form,
+      rounded yet slight, her earnest look, her varying colour, her tender
+      youth, and a singular grace of attitude and gesture, would have inspired
+      an artist with the very ideal of rustic beauty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a pause, she placed her lips to a chink in the door, and repeated
+      her father&rsquo;s question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray pardon me,&rdquo; said a clear, loud, yet courteous voice, &ldquo;but seeing a
+      light at your window, I have ventured to ask if any one within will
+      conduct me to &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;; I will pay the service handsomely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Open the door, Alley,&rdquo; said the owner of the hut.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl drew a large wooden bolt from the door; and a tall figure crossed
+      the threshold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The new-comer was in the first bloom of youth, perhaps about eighteen
+      years of age, and his air and appearance surprised both sire and daughter.
+      Alone, on foot, at such an hour, it was impossible for any one to mistake
+      him for other than a gentleman; yet his dress was plain and somewhat
+      soiled by dust, and he carried a small knapsack on his shoulder. As he
+      entered, he lifted his hat with somewhat of foreign urbanity, and a
+      profusion of fair brown hair fell partially over a high and commanding
+      forehead. His features were handsome, without being eminently so, and his
+      aspect was at once bold and prepossessing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am much obliged by your civility,&rdquo; he said, advancing carelessly and
+      addressing the man, who surveyed him with a scrutinising eye; &ldquo;and trust,
+      my good fellow, that you will increase the obligation by accompanying me
+      to &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can&rsquo;t miss well your way,&rdquo; said the man surlily: &ldquo;the lights will
+      direct you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They have rather misled me, for they seem to surround the whole common,
+      and there is no path across it that I can see; however, if you will put me
+      in the right road, I will not trouble you further.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very late,&rdquo; replied the churlish landlord, equivocally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The better reason why I should be at &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;. Come, my good
+      friend, put on your hat, and I will give you half a guinea for your
+      trouble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man advanced, then halted; again surveyed his guest, and said, &ldquo;Are
+      you quite alone, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably you are known at &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not I. But what matters that to you? I am a stranger in these parts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is full four miles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So far, and I am fearfully tired already!&rdquo; exclaimed the young man with
+      impatience. As he spoke he drew out his watch. &ldquo;Past eleven too!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The watch caught the eye of the cottager; that evil eye sparkled. He
+      passed his hand over his brow. &ldquo;I am thinking, sir,&rdquo; he said in a more
+      civil tone than he had yet assumed, &ldquo;that as you are so tired and the hour
+      is so late, you might almost as well&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo; exclaimed the stranger, stamping somewhat petulantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like to mention it; but my poor roof is at your service, and I
+      would go with you to &mdash;&mdash;&mdash; at daybreak to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger stared at the cottager, and then at the dingy walls of the
+      hut. He was about, very abruptly, to reject the hospitable proposal, when
+      his eye rested suddenly on the form of Alice, who stood eager-eyed and
+      open-mouthed, gazing on the handsome intruder. As she caught his eye, she
+      blushed deeply and turned aside. The view seemed to change the intentions
+      of the stranger. He hesitated a moment, then muttered between his teeth:
+      and sinking his knapsack on the ground, he cast himself into a chair
+      beside the fire, stretched his limbs, and cried gaily, &ldquo;So be it, my host:
+      shut up your house again. Bring me a cup of beer, and a crust of bread,
+      and so much for supper! As for bed, this chair will do vastly well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps we can manage better for you than that chair,&rdquo; answered the host.
+      &ldquo;But our best accommodation must seem bad enough to a gentleman: we are
+      very poor people&mdash;hard-working, but very poor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind me,&rdquo; answered the stranger, busying himself in stirring the
+      fire; &ldquo;I am tolerably well accustomed to greater hardships than sleeping
+      on a chair in an honest man&rsquo;s house; and though you are poor, I will take
+      it for granted you are honest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man grinned: and turning to Alice, bade her spread what their larder
+      would afford. Some crusts of bread, some cold potatoes, and some tolerably
+      strong beer, composed all the fare set before the traveller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Despite his previous boasts, the young man made a wry face at these
+      Socratic preparations, while he drew his chair to the board. But his look
+      grew more gay as he caught Alice&rsquo;s eye; and as she lingered by the table,
+      and faltered out some hesitating words of apology, he seized her hand, and
+      pressing it tenderly&mdash;&ldquo;Prettiest of lasses,&rdquo; said he&mdash;and while
+      he spoke he gazed on her with undisguised admiration&mdash;&ldquo;a man who has
+      travelled on foot all day, through the ugliest country within the three
+      seas, is sufficiently refreshed at night by the sight of so fair a face.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alice hastily withdrew her hand, and went and seated herself in a corner
+      of the room, when she continued to look at the stranger with her usual
+      vacant gaze, but with a half-smile upon her rosy lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alice&rsquo;s father looked hard first at one, then at the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eat, sir,&rdquo; said he, with a sort of chuckle, &ldquo;and no fine words; poor
+      Alice is honest, as you said just now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To be sure,&rdquo; answered the traveller, employing with great zeal a set of
+      strong, even, and dazzling teeth at the tough crusts; &ldquo;to be sure she is.
+      I did not mean to offend you; but the fact is, that I am half a foreigner;
+      and abroad, you know, one may say a civil thing to a pretty girl without
+      hurting her feelings, or her father&rsquo;s either.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Half a foreigner! why, you talk English as well as I do,&rdquo; said the host,
+      whose intonation and words were, on the whole, a little above his station.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger smiled. &ldquo;Thank you for the compliment,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;What I
+      meant was, that I have been a great deal abroad; in fact, I have just
+      returned from Germany. But I am English born.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And going home?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Far from hence?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About thirty miles, I believe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are young, sir, to be alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The traveller made no answer, but finished his uninviting repast and drew
+      his chair again to the fire. He then thought he had sufficiently
+      ministered to his host&rsquo;s curiosity to be entitled to the gratification of
+      his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You work at the factories, I suppose?&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do, sir. Bad times.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And your pretty daughter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Minds the house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you no other children?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; one mouth besides my own is as much as I can feed, and that scarcely.
+      But you would like to rest now; you can have my bed, sir; I can sleep
+      here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By no means,&rdquo; said the stranger, quickly; &ldquo;just put a few more coals on
+      the fire, and leave me to make myself comfortable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man rose, and did not press his offer, but left the room for a supply
+      of fuel. Alice remained in her corner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sweetheart,&rdquo; said the traveller, looking round and satisfying himself
+      that they were alone: &ldquo;I should sleep well if I could get one kiss from
+      those coral lips.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alice hid her face with her hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do I vex you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this assurance the traveller rose, and approached Alice softly. He drew
+      away her hands from her face, when she said gently, &ldquo;Have you much money
+      about you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, the mercenary baggage!&rdquo; said the traveller to himself; and then
+      replied aloud, &ldquo;Why, pretty one? Do you sell your kisses so high then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alice frowned and tossed the hair from her brow. &ldquo;If you have money,&rdquo; she
+      said, in a whisper, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t say so to father. Don&rsquo;t sleep if you can help
+      it. I&rsquo;m afraid&mdash;hush&mdash;he comes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man returned to his seat with an altered manner. And as his host
+      entered, he for the first time surveyed him closely. The imperfect glimmer
+      of the half-dying and single candle threw into strong lights and shades
+      the marked, rugged, and ferocious features of the cottager; and the eye of
+      the traveller, glancing from the face to the limbs and frame, saw that
+      whatever of violence the mind might design, the body might well execute.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The traveller sank into a gloomy reverie. The wind howled&mdash;the rain
+      beat&mdash;through the casement shone no solitary star&mdash;all was dark
+      and sombre. Should he proceed alone&mdash;might he not suffer a greater
+      danger upon that wide and desert moor&mdash;might not the host follow&mdash;assault
+      him in the dark? He had no weapon save a stick. But within he had at least
+      a rude resource in the large kitchen poker that was beside him. At all
+      events it would be better to wait for the present. He might at any time,
+      when alone, withdraw the bolt from the door, and slip out unobserved. Such
+      was the fruit of his meditations while his host plied the fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will sleep sound to-night,&rdquo; said his entertainer, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! Why, I am <i>over</i>-fatigued; I dare say it will be an hour or
+      two before I fall asleep; but when I once am asleep, I sleep like a rock!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, Alice,&rdquo; said her father, &ldquo;let us leave the gentleman. Goodnight,
+      sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good night&mdash;good night,&rdquo; returned the traveller, yawning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The father and daughter disappeared through a door in the corner of the
+      room. The guest heard them ascend the creaking stairs&mdash;all was still.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fool that I am,&rdquo; said the traveller to himself, &ldquo;will nothing teach me
+      that I am no longer a student at Gottingen, or cure me of these pedestrian
+      adventures? Had it not been for that girl&rsquo;s big blue eyes, I should be
+      safe at &mdash;&mdash;&mdash; by this time, if, indeed, the grim father
+      had not murdered me by the road. However, we&rsquo;ll baulk him yet: another
+      half-hour, and I am on the moor: we must give him time. And in the
+      meanwhile here is the poker. At the worst it is but one to one; but the
+      churl is strongly built.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Although the traveller thus endeavoured to cheer his courage, his heart
+      beat more loudly than its wont. He kept his eyes stationed on the door by
+      which the cottagers had vanished, and his hand on the massive poker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While the stranger was thus employed below, Alice, instead of turning to
+      her own narrow cell, went into her father&rsquo;s room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cottager was seated at the foot of his bed muttering to himself, and
+      with eyes fixed on the ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl stood before him, gazing on his face, and with her arms lightly
+      crossed above her bosom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It must be worth twenty guineas,&rdquo; said the host, abruptly to himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it to you, father, what the gentleman&rsquo;s watch is worth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man started.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean,&rdquo; continued Alice, quietly, &ldquo;you mean to do some injury to that
+      young man; but you shall not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The cottager&rsquo;s face grew black as night. &ldquo;How,&rdquo; he began in a loud voice,
+      but suddenly dropped the tone into a deep growl&mdash;&ldquo;how dare you talk
+      to me so?&mdash;go to bed&mdash;go to bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will not stir from this room until daybreak.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will soon see that,&rdquo; said the man, with an oath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Touch me, and I will alarm the gentleman, and tell him that&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl approached her father, placed her lips to his ear, and whispered,
+      &ldquo;That you intend to murder him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The cottager&rsquo;s frame trembled from head to foot; he shut his eyes, and
+      gasped painfully for breath. &ldquo;Alice,&rdquo; said he, gently, after a pause&mdash;&ldquo;Alice,
+      we are often nearly starving.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>I</i> am&mdash;<i>you</i> never!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wretch, yes, if I do drink too much one day, I pinch for it the next. But
+      go to bed, I say&mdash;I mean no harm to the young man. Think you I would
+      twist myself a rope?&mdash;no, no; go along, go along.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alice&rsquo;s face, which had before been earnest and almost intelligent, now
+      relapsed into its wonted vacant stare.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To be sure, father, they would hang you if you cut his throat. Don&rsquo;t
+      forget that;&mdash;good night;&rdquo; and so saying, she walked to her own
+      opposite chamber.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Left alone, the host pressed his hand tightly to his forehead, and
+      remained motionless for nearly half an hour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If that cursed girl would but sleep,&rdquo; he muttered at last, turning round,
+      &ldquo;it might be done at once. And there&rsquo;s the pond behind, as deep as a well;
+      and I might say at daybreak that the boy had bolted. He seems quite a
+      stranger here&mdash;nobody&rsquo;ll miss him. He must have plenty of blunt to
+      give half a guinea to a guide across a common! I want money, and I won&rsquo;t
+      work&mdash;if I can help it, at least.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While he thus soliloquised the air seemed to oppress him; he opened the
+      window, he leant out&mdash;the rain beat upon him. He closed the window
+      with an oath; took off his shoes, stole to the threshold, and, by the
+      candle, which he shaded with his hand, surveyed the opposite door. It was
+      closed. He then bent anxiously forward and listened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All&rsquo;s quiet,&rdquo; thought he, &ldquo;perhaps he sleeps already. I will steal down.
+      If Jack Walters would but come tonight, the job would be done charmingly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With that he crept gently down the stairs. In a corner, at the foot of the
+      staircase, lay sundry matters, a few faggots, and a cleaver. He caught up
+      the last. &ldquo;Aha,&rdquo; he muttered; &ldquo;and there&rsquo;s the sledge-hammer somewhere for
+      Walters.&rdquo; Leaning himself against the door, he then applied his eye to a
+      chink which admitted a dim view of the room within, lighted fitfully by
+      the fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;What have we here?
+  A carrion death!&rdquo;
+    <i>Merchant of Venice</i>, Act ii. Sc. 7.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      IT was about this time that the stranger deemed it advisable to commence
+      his retreat. The slight and suppressed sound of voices, which at first he
+      had heard above in the conversation of the father and child, had died
+      away. The stillness at once encouraged and warned him. He stole to the
+      front door, softly undid the bolt, and found the door locked, and the key
+      missing. He had not observed that during his repast, and ere his
+      suspicions had been aroused, his host, in replacing the bar, and relocking
+      the entrance, had abstracted the key. His fears were now confirmed. His
+      next thought was the window&mdash;the shutter only protected it half-way,
+      and was easily removed; but the aperture of the lattice, which only opened
+      in part like most cottage casements, was far too small to admit his
+      person. His only means of escape was in breaking the whole window; a
+      matter not to be effected without noise and consequent risk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused in despair. He was naturally of a strong-nerved and gallant
+      temperament, nor unaccustomed to those perils of life and limb which
+      German students delight to brave; but his heart well-nigh failed him at
+      that moment. The silence became distinct and burdensome to him, and a
+      chill moisture gathered to his brow. While he stood irresolute and in
+      suspense, striving to collect his thoughts, his ear, preternaturally
+      sharpened by fear, caught the faint muffled sound of creeping footsteps&mdash;he
+      heard the stairs creak. The sound broke the spell. The previous vague
+      apprehension gave way, when the danger became actually at hand. His
+      presence of mind returned at once. He went back quickly to the fireplace,
+      seized the poker, and began stirring the fire, and coughing loud, and
+      indicating as vigorously as possible that he was wide awake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He felt that he was watched&mdash;he felt that he was in momently peril.
+      He felt that the appearance of slumber would be the signal for a mortal
+      conflict. Time passed, all remained silent; nearly half an hour had
+      elapsed since he had heard the steps upon the stairs. His situation began
+      to prey upon his nerves, it irritated them&mdash;it became intolerable. It
+      was not now fear that he experienced, it was the overwrought sense of
+      mortal enmity&mdash;the consciousness that a man may feel who knows that
+      the eye of a tiger is on him, and who, while in suspense he has regained
+      his courage, foresees that sooner or later the spring must come; the
+      suspense itself becomes an agony, and he desires to expedite the deadly
+      struggle he cannot shun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Utterly incapable any longer to bear his own sensations, the traveller
+      rose at last, fixed his eyes upon the fatal door, and was about to cry
+      aloud to the listener to enter, when he heard a slight tap at the window;
+      it was twice repeated; and at the third time a low voice pronounced the
+      name of Darvil. It was clear, then, that accomplices had arrived; it was
+      no longer against one man that he would have to contend. He drew his
+      breath hard, and listened with throbbing ears. He heard steps without upon
+      the plashing soil; they retired&mdash;all was still.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused a few minutes, and walked deliberately and firmly to the inner
+      door, at which he fancied his host stationed; with a steady hand he
+      attempted to open the door; it was fastened on the opposite side. &ldquo;So!&rdquo;
+       said he, bitterly, and grinding his teeth, &ldquo;I must die like a rat in a
+      cage. Well, I&rsquo;ll die biting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He returned to his former post, drew himself up to his full height, and
+      stood grasping his homely weapon, prepared for the worst, and not
+      altogether unelated with a proud consciousness of his own natural
+      advantages of activity, stature, strength and daring. Minutes rolled on;
+      the silence was broken by some one at the inner door; he heard the bolt
+      gently withdrawn. He raised his weapon with both hands; and started to
+      find the intruder was only Alice. She came in with bare feet, and pale as
+      marble, her finger on her lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She approached&mdash;she touched him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are in the shed behind,&rdquo; she whispered, &ldquo;looking for the
+      sledge-hammer&mdash;they mean to murder you; get you gone&mdash;quick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How?&mdash;the door is locked.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stay. I have taken the key from his room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She gained the door, applied the key&mdash;the door yielded. The traveller
+      threw his knapsack once more over his shoulder, and made but one stride to
+      the threshold. The girl stopped him. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t say anything about it; he is
+      my father, they would hang him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no. But you?&mdash;are safe, I trust?&mdash;depend on my gratitude.&mdash;I
+      shall be at &mdash;&mdash;&mdash; to-morrow&mdash;the best inn&mdash;seek
+      me if you can. Which way now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Keep to the left.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger was already several paces distant; through the darkness, and
+      in the midst of the rain, he fled on with the speed of youth. The girl
+      lingered an instant, sighed, then laughed aloud; closed and re-barred the
+      door, and was creeping back, when from the inner entrance advanced the
+      grim father, and another man, of broad, short, sinewy frame, his arms
+      bare, and wielding a large hammer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How?&rdquo; asked the host; &ldquo;Alice here, and&mdash;hell and the devil! have you
+      let him go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told you that you should not harm him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With a violent oath the ruffian struck his daughter to the ground, sprang
+      over her body, unbarred the door, and, accompanied by his comrade, set off
+      in vague pursuit of his intended victim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;You knew&mdash;none so well, of my daughter&rsquo;s flight.&rdquo;
+    <i>Merchant of Venice</i>, Act iii. Sc. 1.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      THE day dawned; it was a mild, damp, hazy morning; the sod sank deep
+      beneath the foot, the roads were heavy with mire, and the rain of the past
+      night lay here and there in broad shallow pools. Towards the town,
+      waggons, carts, pedestrian groups were already moving; and, now and then,
+      you caught the sharp horn of some early coach, wheeling its be-cloaked
+      outside and be-nightcapped inside passengers along the northern
+      thoroughfare.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A young man bounded over a stile into the road just opposite to the
+      milestone, that declared him to be one mile from &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank Heaven!&rdquo; he said, almost aloud. &ldquo;After spending the night wandering
+      about morasses like a will-o&rsquo;-the-wisp, I approach a town at last. Thank
+      Heaven again, and for all its mercies this night! I breathe freely. I AM
+      SAFE.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He walked on somewhat rapidly; he passed a slow waggon&mdash;-he passed a
+      group of mechanics&mdash;he passed a drove of sheep, and now he saw
+      walking leisurely before him a single figure. It was a girl, in a worn and
+      humble dress, who seemed to seek her weary way with pain and languor. He
+      was about also to pass her, when he heard a low cry. He turned, and beheld
+      in the wayfarer his preserver of the previous night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heavens! is it indeed you? Can I believe my eyes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was coming to seek you, sir,&rdquo; said the girl, faintly. &ldquo;I too have
+      escaped; I shall never go back to father; I have no roof to cover my head
+      now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor child! but how is this? Did they ill use you for releasing me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father knocked me down, and beat me again when he came back; but that is
+      not all,&rdquo; she added, in a very low tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What else?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl grew red and white by turns. She set her teeth rigidly, stopped
+      short, and then walking on quicker than before, replied: &ldquo;It don&rsquo;t matter;
+      I will never go back&mdash;I&rsquo;m alone now. What, what shall I do?&rdquo; and she
+      wrung her hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The traveller&rsquo;s pity was deeply moved. &ldquo;My good girl,&rdquo; said he, earnestly,
+      &ldquo;you have saved my life, and I am not ungrateful. Here&rdquo; (and he placed
+      some gold in her hand), &ldquo;get yourself a lodging, food and rest; you look
+      as if you wanted them; and see me again this evening when it is dark and
+      we can talk unobserved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl took the money passively, and looked up in his face while he
+      spoke; the look was so unsuspecting, and the whole countenance was so
+      beautifully modest and virgin-like, that had any evil passion prompted the
+      traveller&rsquo;s last words, it must have fled scared and abashed as he met the
+      gaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My poor girl,&rdquo; said he, embarrassed, and after a short pause; &ldquo;you are
+      very young, and very, very pretty. In this town you will be exposed to
+      many temptations: take care where you lodge; you have, no doubt, friends
+      here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Friends?&mdash;what are friends?&rdquo; answered Alice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you no relations?&mdash;no <i>mother&rsquo;s kin</i>?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know where to ask shelter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir; for I can&rsquo;t go where father goes, lest he should find me out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, seek some quiet inn, and meet me this evening just here, half
+      a mile from the town, at seven. I will try and think of something for you
+      in the meanwhile. But you seem tired, you walk with pain; perhaps it will
+      fatigue you to come&mdash;I mean, you had rather perhaps rest another
+      day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no, no! it will do me good to see you again, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man&rsquo;s eyes met hers, and hers were not withdrawn; their soft
+      blue was suffused with tears&mdash;they penetrated his soul. He turned
+      away hastily, and saw that they were already the subject of curious
+      observation to the various passengers that overtook them. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t forget!&rdquo;
+       he whispered, and strode on with a pace that soon brought him to the town.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He inquired for the principal hotel&mdash;entered it with an air that
+      bespoke that nameless consciousness of superiority which belongs to those
+      accustomed to purchase welcome wherever welcome is bought and sold&mdash;and
+      before a blazing fire and no unsubstantial breakfast, forgot all the
+      terrors of the past night, or rather felt rejoiced to think he had added a
+      new and strange hazard to the catalogue of adventures already experienced
+      by Ernest Maltravers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Con una Dama tenia
+  Un galan conversacion.&rdquo; *
+   MORATIN: <i>El Teatro Espanol</i>.&mdash;Num. 15.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      * With a dame he held a gallant conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MALTRAVERS was first at the appointed place. His character was in most
+      respects singularly energetic, decided, and premature in its development;
+      but not so in regard to women: with them he was the creature of the
+      moment; and, driven to and fro by whatever impulse, or whatever passion,
+      caught the caprice of a wild, roving, and all-poetical imagination,
+      Maltravers was, half unconsciously, a poet&mdash;a poet of action, and
+      woman was his muse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had formed no plan of conduct towards the poor girl he was to meet. He
+      meant no harm to her. If she had been less handsome, he would have been
+      equally grateful; and her dress, and youth, and condition, would equally
+      have compelled him to select the hour of dusk for an interview.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He arrived at the spot. The winter night had already descended; but a
+      sharp frost had set in: the air was clear, the stars were bright, and the
+      long shadows slept, still and calm, along the broad road, and the whitened
+      fields beyond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He walked briskly to and fro, without much thought of the interview, or
+      its object, half chanting old verses, German and English, to himself, and
+      stopping to gaze every moment at the silent stars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length he saw Alice approach: she came up to him timidly and gently.
+      His heart beat more quickly; he felt that he was young and alone with
+      beauty. &ldquo;Sweet girl,&rdquo; he said, with involuntary and mechanical compliment,
+      &ldquo;how well this light becomes you. How shall I thank you for not forgetting
+      me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alice surrendered her hand to his without a struggle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is your name?&rdquo; said he, bending his face down to hers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alice Darvil.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And your terrible father,&mdash;<i>is</i> he, in truth, your father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed he is my father and mother too!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What made you suspect his intention to murder me? Has he ever attempted
+      the like crime?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but lately he has often talked of robbery. He is very poor, sir. And
+      when I saw his eye, and when afterwards, while your back was turned, he
+      took the key from the door, I felt that&mdash;that you were in danger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good girl&mdash;go on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told him so when we went up-stairs. I did not know what to believe,
+      when he said he would not hurt you; but I stole the key of the front door,
+      which he had thrown on the table, and went to my room. I listened at my
+      door; I heard him go down the stairs&mdash;he stopped there for some time;
+      and I watched him from above. The place where he was opened to the field
+      by the back-way. After some time, I heard a voice whisper him; I knew the
+      voice, and then they both went out by the back-way; so I stole down, and
+      went out and listened; and I knew the other man was John Walters. I&rsquo;m
+      afraid of <i>him</i>, sir. And then Walters said, says he, &lsquo;I will get the
+      hammer, and, sleep or wake, we&rsquo;ll do it.&rsquo; And father said, &lsquo;It&rsquo;s in the
+      shed.&rsquo; So I saw there was no time to be lost, sir, and&mdash;and&mdash;but
+      you know all the rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But how did you escape?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my father, after talking to Walters, came to my room, and beat and&mdash;and&mdash;frightened
+      me; and when he was gone to bed, I put on my clothes, and stole out; it
+      was just light; and I walked on till I met you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor child, in what a den of vice you have been brought up!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anan, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She don&rsquo;t understand me. Have you been taught to read and write?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I suppose you have been taught, at least, to say your catechism&mdash;and
+      you pray sometimes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have prayed to father not to beat me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But to God?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God, sir&mdash;what is that?&rdquo; *
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      * This ignorance&mdash;indeed the whole sketch of Alice&mdash;is from the
+      life; nor is such ignorance, accompanied by what almost seems an
+      instinctive or intuitive notion of right or wrong, very uncommon, as our
+      police reports can testify. In the <i>Examiner</i> for, I think, the year
+      1835, will be found the case of a young girl ill-treated by her father,
+      whose answers to the interrogatories of the magistrate are very similar to
+      those of Alice to the questions of Maltravers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers drew back, shocked and appalled. Premature philosopher as he
+      was, this depth of ignorance perplexed his wisdom. He had read all the
+      disputes of schoolmen, whether or not the notion of a Supreme Being is
+      innate; but he had never before been brought face to face with a living
+      creature who was unconscious of a God.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a pause, he said: &ldquo;My poor girl, we misunderstand each other. You
+      know that there is a God?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did no one ever tell you who made the stars you now survey&mdash;the
+      earth on which you tread?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And have you never thought about it yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should I? What has that to do with being cold and hungry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers looked incredulous. &ldquo;You see that great building, with the
+      spire rising in the starlight?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it called?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, a church.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you never go into it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do people do there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father says one man talks nonsense, and the other folk listen to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your father is&mdash;no matter. Good heavens! what shall I do with this
+      unhappy child?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, I am very unhappy,&rdquo; said Alice, catching at the last words; and
+      the tears rolled silently down her cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers never was more touched in his life. Whatever thoughts of
+      gallantry might have entered his young head, had he found Alice such as he
+      might reasonably have expected, he now felt that there was a kind of
+      sanctity in her ignorance; and his gratitude and kindly sentiment towards
+      her took almost a brotherly aspect.&mdash;&ldquo;You know, at least, what school
+      is?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I have talked with girls who go to school.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you like to go there, too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, sir, pray not!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What should you like to do, then? Speak out, child. I owe you so much,
+      that I should be too happy to make you comfortable and contented in your
+      own way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to live with you, sir.&rdquo; Maltravers started, and half
+      smiled, and coloured. But looking on her eyes, which were fixed earnestly
+      on his, there was so much artlessness in their soft, unconscious gaze,
+      that he saw she was wholly ignorant of the interpretation that might be
+      put upon so candid a confession.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I have said that Maltravers was a wild, enthusiastic, odd being&mdash;he
+      was, in fact, full of strange German romance and metaphysical
+      speculations. He had once shut himself up for months to study astrology&mdash;and
+      been even suspected of a serious hunt after the philosopher&rsquo;s stone;
+      another time he had narrowly escaped with life and liberty from a frantic
+      conspiracy of the young republicans of his university, in which, being
+      bolder and madder than most of them, he had been an active ringleader; it
+      was, indeed, some such folly that had compelled him to quit Germany sooner
+      than himself or his parents desired. He had nothing of the sober
+      Englishman about him. Whatever was strange and eccentric had an
+      irresistible charm for Ernest Maltravers. And agreeably to this
+      disposition, he now revolved an idea that enchanted his mobile and
+      fantastic philosophy. He himself would educate this charming girl&mdash;he
+      would write fair and heavenly characters upon this blank page&mdash;he
+      would act the Saint Preux to this Julie of Nature. Alas, he did not think
+      of the result which the parallel should have suggested. At that age,
+      Ernest Maltravers never damped the ardour of an experiment by the
+      anticipation of consequences.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So,&rdquo; he said, after a short reverie, &ldquo;so you would like to live with me?
+      But, Alice, we must not fall in love with each other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t understand, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind,&rdquo; said Maltravers, a little disconcerted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I always wished to go into service.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you would be a kind master.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers was half disenchanted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No very flattering preference,&rdquo; thought he: &ldquo;so much the safer for us.
+      Well, Alice, it shall be as you wish. Are you comfortable where you are,
+      in your new lodgings?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, they do not insult you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but they make a noise, and I like to be quiet to think of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young philosopher was reconciled again to his scheme.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Alice&mdash;go back&mdash;I will take a cottage to-morrow, and you
+      shall be my servant, and I will teach you to read and write and say your
+      prayers, and know that you have a Father above who loves you better than
+      he below. Meet me again at the same hour to-morrow. Why do you cry, Alice?
+      why do you cry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because&mdash;because,&rdquo; sobbed the girl, &ldquo;I am so happy, and I shall live
+      with you and see you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go, child&mdash;go, child,&rdquo; said Maltravers, hastily; and he walked away
+      with a quicker pulse than became his new character of master and
+      preceptor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked back, and saw the girl gazing at him; he waved his hand, and she
+      moved on and followed him slowly back to the town.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers, though not an elder son, was the heir of affluent fortunes; he
+      enjoyed a munificent allowance that sufficed for the whims of a youth who
+      had learned in Germany none of the extravagant notions common to young
+      Englishmen of similar birth and prospects. He was a spoiled child, with no
+      law but his own fancy,&mdash;his return home was not expected,&mdash;there
+      was nothing to prevent the indulgence of his new caprice. The next day he
+      hired a cottage in the neighbourhood, which was one of those pretty
+      thatched edifices, with verandas and monthly roses, a conservatory and a
+      lawn, which justify the English proverb about a cottage and love. It had
+      been built by a mercantile bachelor for some Fair Rosamond, and did credit
+      to his taste. An old woman, let with the house, was to cook and do the
+      work. Alice was but a nominal servant. Neither the old woman nor the
+      landlord comprehended the Platonic intentions of the young stranger. But
+      he paid his rent in advance, and they were not particular. He, however,
+      thought it prudent to conceal his name. It was one sure to be known in a
+      town not very distant from the residence of his father, a wealthy and
+      long-descended country gentleman. He adopted, therefore, the common name
+      of Butler; which, indeed, belonged to one of his maternal connections, and
+      by that name alone was he known in the neighbourhood and to Alice. From
+      her he would not have sought concealment,&mdash;but somehow or other no
+      occasion ever presented itself to induce him to talk much to her of his
+      parentage or birth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Thought would destroy their Paradise.&rdquo;&mdash;GRAY.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      MALTRAVERS found Alice as docile a pupil as any reasonable preceptor might
+      have desired. But still, reading and writing&mdash;they are very
+      uninteresting elements! Had the groundwork been laid, it might have been
+      delightful to raise the fairy palace of knowledge; but the digging the
+      foundations and the constructing the cellars is weary labour. Perhaps he
+      felt it so; for in a few days Alice was handed over to the very oldest and
+      ugliest writing-master that the neighbouring town could afford. The poor
+      girl at first wept much at the exchange; but the grave remonstrances and
+      solemn exhortations of Maltravers reconciled her at last, and she promised
+      to work hard and pay every attention to her lessons. I am not sure,
+      however, that it was the tedium of the work that deterred the idealist&mdash;perhaps
+      he felt its danger&mdash;and at the bottom of his sparkling dreams and
+      brilliant follies lay a sound, generous, and noble heart. He was fond of
+      pleasure, and had been already the darling of the sentimental German
+      ladies. But he was too young and too vivid, and too romantic, to be what
+      is called a sensualist. He could not look upon a fair face, and a
+      guileless smile, and all the ineffable symmetry of a woman&rsquo;s shape, with
+      the eye of a man buying cattle for base uses. He very easily fell in love,
+      or fancied he did, it is true,&mdash;but then he could not separate desire
+      from fancy, or calculate the game of passion without bringing the heart or
+      the imagination into the matter. And though Alice was very pretty and very
+      engaging, he was not yet in love with her, and he had no intention of
+      becoming so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He felt the evening somewhat long, when for the first time Alice
+      discontinued her usual lesson; but Maltravers had abundant resources in
+      himself. He placed Shakespeare and Schiller on his table, and lighted his
+      German meerschaum&mdash;he read till he became inspired, and then he wrote&mdash;and
+      when he had composed a few stanzas he was not contented till he had set
+      them to music, and tried their melody with his voice. For he had all the
+      passion of a German for song, and music&mdash;that wild Maltravers!&mdash;and
+      his voice was sweet, his taste consummate, his science profound. As the
+      sun puts out a star, so the full blaze of his imagination, fairly kindled,
+      extinguished for the time his fairy fancy for his beautiful pupil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was late that night when Maltravers went to bed&mdash;and as he passed
+      through the narrow corridor that led to his chamber he heard a light step
+      flying before him, and caught the glimpse of a female figure escaping
+      through a distant door. &ldquo;The silly child,&rdquo; thought he, at once divining
+      the cause; &ldquo;she has been listening to my singing. I shall scold her.&rdquo; But
+      he forgot that resolution.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next day, and the next, and many days passed, and Maltravers saw but
+      little of the pupil for whose sake he had shut himself up in a country
+      cottage, in the depth of winter. Still he did not repent his purpose, nor
+      was he in the least tired of his seclusion&mdash;he would not inspect
+      Alice&rsquo;s progress, for he was certain he should be dissatisfied with its
+      slowness&mdash;and people, however handsome, cannot learn to read and
+      write in a day. But he amused himself, notwithstanding. He was glad of an
+      opportunity to be alone with his own thoughts, for he was at one of those
+      periodical epochs of life when we like to pause and breathe a while, in
+      brief respite from that methodical race in which we run to the grave. He
+      wished to re-collect the stores of his past experience, and repose on his
+      own mind, before he started afresh upon the active world. The weather was
+      cold and inclement; but Ernest Maltravers was a hardy lover of nature, and
+      neither snow nor frost could detain him from his daily rambles. So, about
+      noon, he regularly threw aside books and papers, took his hat and staff,
+      and went whistling or humming his favourite airs through the dreary
+      streets, or along the bleak waters, or amidst the leafless woods, just as
+      the humour seized him; for he was not an Edwin or Harold, who reserved
+      speculation only for lonely brooks and pastoral hills. Maltravers
+      delighted to contemplate nature in men as well as in sheep or trees. The
+      humblest alley in a crowded town had something poetical for him; he was
+      ever ready to mix in a crowd, if it were only gathered round a
+      barrel-organ or a dog-fight, and listen to all that was said and notice
+      all that was done. And this I take to be the true poetical temperament
+      essential to every artist who aspires to be something more than a
+      scene-painter. But, above all things, he was most interested in any
+      display of human passions or affections; he loved to see the true colours
+      of the heart, where they are most transparent&mdash;in the uneducated and
+      poor&mdash;for he was something of an optimist, and had a hearty faith in
+      the loveliness of our nature. Perhaps, indeed, he owed much of the insight
+      into and mastery over character that he was afterwards considered to
+      display, to his disbelief that there is any wickedness so dark as not to
+      be susceptible of the light in some place or another. But Maltravers had
+      his fits of unsociability, and then nothing but the most solitary scenes
+      delighted him. Winter or summer, barren waste or prodigal verdure, all had
+      beauty in his eyes; for their beauty lay in his own soul, through which he
+      beheld them. From these walks he would return home at dusk, take his
+      simple meal, rhyme or read away the long evenings with such alternation as
+      music or the dreamy thoughts of a young man with gay life before him could
+      afford. Happy Maltravers!&mdash;youth and genius have luxuries all the
+      Rothschilds cannot purchase! And yet, Maltravers, you are ambitious!&mdash;life
+      moves too slowly for you!&mdash;you would push on the wheels of the clock!&mdash;Fool&mdash;brilliant
+      fool!&mdash;you are eighteen, and a poet!&mdash;What more can you desire?&mdash;Bid
+      Time stop for ever!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One morning Ernest rose earlier than his wont, and sauntered carelessly
+      through the conservatory which adjoined his sitting-room; observing the
+      plants with placid curiosity (for besides being a little of a botanist, he
+      had odd visionary notions about the life of plants, and he saw in them a
+      hundred mysteries which the herbalists do not teach us), when he heard a
+      low and very musical voice singing at a little distance. He listened, and
+      recognised, with surprise, words of his own, which he had lately set to
+      music, and was sufficiently pleased with to sing nightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the song ended, Maltravers stole softly through the conservatory, and
+      as he opened the door which led into the garden, he saw at the open window
+      of a little room which was apportioned to Alice, and jutted out from the
+      building in the fanciful irregularity common to ornamental cottages, the
+      form of his discarded pupil. She did not observe him, and it was not till
+      he twice called her by name, that she started from her thoughtful and
+      melancholy posture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alice,&rdquo; said he, gently, &ldquo;put on your bonnet, and walk with me in the
+      garden: you look pale, child; the fresh air will do you good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alice coloured and smiled, and in a few moments was by his side.
+      Maltravers, meanwhile, had gone in and lighted his meerschaum, for it was
+      his great inspirer whenever his thoughts were perplexed, or he felt his
+      usual fluency likely to fail him, and such was the case now. With this
+      faithful ally he awaited Alice in the little walk that circled the lawn,
+      amidst shrubs and evergreens.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alice,&rdquo; said he after a pause; but he stopped short.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alice looked up at him with grave respect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tush!&rdquo; said Maltravers; &ldquo;perhaps the smoke is unpleasant to you. It is a
+      bad habit of mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; answered Alice; and she seemed disappointed. Maltravers paused,
+      and picked up a snowdrop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is pretty,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;do you love flowers?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dearly,&rdquo; answered Alice, with some enthusiasm; &ldquo;I never saw many till
+      I came here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now then I can go on,&rdquo; thought Maltravers; why, I cannot say, for I do
+      not see the <i>sequitur</i>; but on he went <i>in medias res</i>. &ldquo;Alice,
+      you sing charmingly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! sir, you&mdash;you&mdash;&rdquo; she stopped abruptly, and trembled
+      visibly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I overheard you, Alice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you are angry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I!&mdash;Heaven forbid! It is a <i>talent</i>&mdash;but you don&rsquo;t know
+      what that is; I mean it is an excellent thing to have an ear; and a voice,
+      and a heart for music; and you have all three.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused, for he felt his hand touched; Alice suddenly clasped and kissed
+      it. Maltravers thrilled through his whole frame; but there was something
+      in the girl&rsquo;s look that showed she was wholly unaware that she had
+      committed an unmaidenly or forward action.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was so afraid you would be angry,&rdquo; she said, wiping her eyes as she
+      dropped his hand; &ldquo;and now I suppose you know all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; how I listened to you every evening, and lay awake the whole night
+      with the music ringing in my ears, till I tried to go over it myself; and
+      so at last I ventured to sing aloud. I like that much better than learning
+      to read.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All this was delightful to Maltravers: the girl had touched upon one of
+      his weak points; however, he remained silent. Alice continued:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now, sir, I hope you will let me come and sit outside the door every
+      evening and hear you; I will make no noise&mdash;I will be so quiet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, in that cold corridor, these bitter nights?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am used to cold, sir. Father would not let me have a fire when he was
+      not at home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Alice, but you shall come into the room while I play, and I will give
+      you a lesson or two. I am glad you have so good an ear; it may be a means
+      of your earning your own honest livelihood when you leave me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I&mdash;but I never intend to leave you, sir!&rdquo; said Alice, beginning
+      fearfully and ending calmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers had recourse to the meerschaum.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Luckily, perhaps, at this time, they were joined by Mr. Simcox, the old
+      writing-master. Alice went in to prepare her books; but Maltravers laid
+      his hand upon the preceptor&rsquo;s shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have a quick pupil, I hope, sir?&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, very, very, Mr. Butler. She comes on famously. She practises a great
+      deal when I am away, and I do my best.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; asked Maltravers, in a grave tone, &ldquo;have you succeeded in
+      instilling into the poor child&rsquo;s mind some of those more sacred notions of
+      which I spoke to you at our first meeting?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, sir, she was indeed quite a heathen&mdash;quite a Mahometan, I may
+      say; but she is a little better now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What have you taught her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That God made her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a great step.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that He loves good girls, and will watch over them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bravo! You beat Plato.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir, I never beat any one, except little Jack Turner; but he is a
+      dunce.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bah! What else do you teach her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That the devil runs away with bad girls, and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop there, Mr. Simcox. Never mind the devil yet a while. Let her first
+      learn to do good, that God may love her; the rest will follow. I would
+      rather make people religious through their best feelings than their worst,&mdash;through
+      their gratitude and affections, rather than their fears and calculations
+      of risk and punishment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Simcox stared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does she say her prayers?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have taught her a short one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did she learn it readily?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lord love her, yes! When I told her she ought to pray to God to bless her
+      benefactor, she would not rest till I had repeated a prayer out of our
+      Sunday School book, and she got it by heart at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Enough, Mr. Simcox. I will not detain you longer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Forgetful of his untasted breakfast, Maltravers continued his meerschaum
+      and his reflections: he did not cease, till he had convinced himself that
+      he was but doing his duty to Alice, by teaching her to cultivate the
+      charming talent she evidently possessed, and through which she might
+      secure her own independence. He fancied that he should thus relieve
+      himself of a charge and responsibility which often perplexed him. Alice
+      would leave him, enabled to walk the world in an honest professional path.
+      It was an excellent idea. &ldquo;But there is danger,&rdquo; whispered Conscience.
+      &ldquo;Ay,&rdquo; answered Philosophy and Pride, those wise dupes that are always so
+      solemn and always so taken in; &ldquo;but what is virtue without trial?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And now every evening, when the windows were closed, and the hearth burnt
+      clear, while the winds stormed, and the rain beat without, a lithe and
+      lovely shape hovered about the student&rsquo;s chamber; and his wild songs were
+      sung by a voice which Nature had made even sweeter than his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alice&rsquo;s talent for music was indeed surprising; enthusiastic and quick as
+      he himself was in all he undertook, Maltravers was amazed at her rapid
+      progress. He soon taught her to play by ear; and Maltravers could not but
+      notice that her hand, always delicate in shape, had lost the rude colour
+      and roughness of labour. He thought of that pretty hand more often than he
+      ought to have done, and guided it over the keys when it could have found
+      its way very well without him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On coming to the cottage he had directed the old servant to provide
+      suitable and proper clothes for Alice; but now that she was admitted &ldquo;to
+      sit with the gentleman,&rdquo; the crone had the sense, without waiting for new
+      orders, to buy the &ldquo;pretty young woman&rdquo; garments, still indeed simple, but
+      of better materials and less rustic fashion; and Alice&rsquo;s redundant tresses
+      were now carefully arranged into orderly and glossy curls, and even the
+      texture was no longer the same; and happiness and health bloomed on her
+      downy cheeks, and smiled from the dewy lips, which never quite closed over
+      the fresh white teeth, except when she was sad&mdash;but that seemed
+      never, now she was not banished from Maltravers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To say nothing of the unusual grace and delicacy of Alice&rsquo;s form and
+      features, there is nearly always something of Nature&rsquo;s own gentility in
+      very young women (except, indeed, when they get together and fall
+      a-giggling); it shames us men to see how much sooner they are polished
+      into conventional shape than our rough, masculine angles. A vulgar boy
+      requires Heaven knows what assiduity to make three steps&mdash;I do not
+      say like a gentleman, but like a body that has a soul in it; but give the
+      least advantage of society or tuition to a peasant girl, and a hundred to
+      one but she will glide into refinement before the boy can make a bow
+      without upsetting the table. There is sentiment in all women, and
+      sentiment gives delicacy to thought, and tact to manner. But sentiment
+      with men is generally acquired, an offspring of the intellectual quality,
+      not, as with the other sex, of the moral.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the course of his musical and vocal lessons, Maltravers gently took the
+      occasion to correct poor Alice&rsquo;s frequent offences against grammar and
+      accent: and her memory was prodigiously quick and retentive. The very
+      tones of her voice seemed altered in the ear of Maltravers; and, somehow
+      or other, the time came when he was no longer sensible of the difference
+      in their rank.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old woman-servant, when she had seen how it would be from the first,
+      and taken a pride in her own prophecy, as she ordered Alice&rsquo;s new dresses,
+      was a much better philosopher than Maltravers; though he was already up to
+      his ears in the moonlit abyss of Plato, and had filled a dozen commonplace
+      books with criticisms on Kant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Young man, I fear thy blood is rosy red,
+  Thy heart is soft.&rdquo;
+    D&rsquo;AGUILAR&rsquo;S <i>Fiesco</i>, Act iii. Sc. 1.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      As education does not consist in reading and writing only, so Alice, while
+      still very backward in those elementary arts, forestalled some of their
+      maturest results in her intercourse with Maltravers. Before the
+      inoculation took effect, she caught knowledge in the natural way. For the
+      refinement of a graceful mind and a happy manner is very contagious. And
+      Maltravers was encouraged by her quickness in music to attempt such
+      instruction in other studies as conversation could afford. It is a better
+      school than parents and masters think for: there was a time when all
+      information was given orally; and probably the Athenians learned more from
+      hearing Aristotle than we do from reading him. It was a delicious revival
+      of Academe&mdash;in the walks, or beneath the rustic porticoes of that
+      little cottage&mdash;the romantic philosopher and the beautiful disciple!
+      And his talk was much like that of a sage of the early world, with some
+      wistful and earnest savage for a listener: of the stars and their courses&mdash;of
+      beasts, and birds, and fishes, and plants, and flowers&mdash;the wide
+      family of Nature&mdash;of the beneficence and power of God;&mdash;of the
+      mystic and spiritual history of Man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Charmed by her attention and docility, Maltravers at length diverged from
+      lore into poetry; he would repeat to her the simplest and most natural
+      passages he could remember in his favourite poets; he would himself
+      compose verses elaborately adapted to her understanding; she liked the
+      last the best, and learned them the easiest. Never had young poet a more
+      gracious inspiration, and never did this inharmonious world more
+      complacently resolve itself into soft dreams, as if to humour the
+      novitiate of the victims it must speedily take into its joyless
+      priesthood. And Alice had now quietly and insensibly carved out her own
+      avocations&mdash;the tenor of her service. The plants in the conservatory
+      had passed under her care, and no one else was privileged to touch
+      Maltravers&rsquo;s books, or arrange the sacred litter of a student&rsquo;s apartment.
+      When he came down in the morning, or returned from his walks, everything
+      was in order, yet, by a kind of magic, just as he wished it; the flowers
+      he loved best bloomed, fresh-gathered, on his table; the very position of
+      the large chair, just in that corner by the fireplace, whence, on entering
+      the roof, its hospitable arms opened with the most cordial air of welcome,
+      bespoke the presiding genius of a woman; and then, precisely as the clock
+      struck eight, Alice entered, so pretty and smiling, and happy-looking,
+      that it was no wonder the single hour at first allotted to her extended
+      into three.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Was Alice in love with Maltravers?&mdash;she certainly did not exhibit the
+      symptoms in the ordinary way&mdash;she did not grow more reserved, and
+      agitated, and timid&mdash;there was no worm in the bud of her damask
+      check: nay, though from the first she had been tolerably bold; she was
+      more free and confidential, more at her ease every day; in fact, she never
+      for a moment suspected that she ought to be otherwise; she had not the
+      conventional and sensitive delicacy of girls who, whatever their rank of
+      life, have been taught that there is a mystery and a peril in love; she
+      had a vague idea about girls going wrong, but she did not know that love
+      had anything to do with it; on the contrary, according to her father, it
+      had connection with money, not love; all that she felt was so natural and
+      so very sinless. Could she help being so delighted to listen to him, and
+      so grieved to depart? What thus she felt she expressed, no less simply and
+      no less guilelessly: candour sometimes completely blinded and misled him.
+      No, she could not be in love, or she could not so frankly own that she
+      loved him&mdash;it was a sisterly and grateful sentiment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The dear girl&mdash;I am rejoiced to think so,&rdquo; said Maltravers to
+      himself; &ldquo;I knew there would be no danger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Was he not in love himself?&mdash;The reader must decide.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alice,&rdquo; said Maltravers, one evening after a long pause of thought and
+      abstraction on his side, while she was unconsciously practising her last
+      lesson on the piano&mdash;&ldquo;Alice,&mdash;no, don&rsquo;t turn round&mdash;sit
+      where you are, but listen to me. We cannot live always in this way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alice was instantly disobedient&mdash;she did turn round, and those great
+      blue eyes were fixed on his own with such anxiety and alarm, that he had
+      no resource but to get up and look round for the meerschaum. But Alice,
+      who divined by an instinct his lightest wish, brought it to him, while he
+      was yet hunting, amidst the further corners of the room, in places where
+      it was certain not to be. There it was, already filled with the fragrant
+      Salonica glittering with the gilt pastile, which, not too healthfully,
+      adulterates the seductive weed with odours that pacify the repugnant
+      censure of the fastidious&mdash;for Maltravers was an epicurean even in
+      his worst habits;&mdash;there it was, I say, in that pretty hand which he
+      had to touch as he took it; and while he lit the weed he had again to
+      blush and shrink beneath those great blue eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, Alice,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;thank you. Do sit down there&mdash;out of
+      the draught. I am going to open the window, the night is so lovely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He opened the casement overgrown with creepers, and the moonlight lay fair
+      and breathless upon the smooth lawn. The calm and holiness of the night
+      soothed and elevated his thoughts; he had cut himself off from the eyes of
+      Alice, and he proceeded with a firm, though gentle voice:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Alice, we cannot always live together in this way; you are now
+      wise enough to understand me, so listen patiently. A young woman never
+      wants a fortune so long as she has a good character; she is always poor
+      and despised without one. Now a good character in this world is lost as
+      much by imprudence as guilt; and if you were to live with me much longer,
+      it would be imprudent, and your character would suffer so much that you
+      would not be able to make your own way in the world; far, then, from doing
+      you a service, I should have done you a deadly injury, which I could not
+      atone for: besides, Heaven knows what may happen worse than imprudence;
+      for, I am very sorry to say,&rdquo; added Maltravers, with great gravity, &ldquo;that
+      you are much too pretty and engaging to&mdash;to&mdash;in short, it won&rsquo;t
+      do. I must go home; my friends will have a right to complain of me if I
+      remain thus lost to them many weeks longer. And you, my dear Alice, are
+      now sufficiently advanced to receive better instruction than I or Mr.
+      Simcox can give you. I therefore propose to place you in some respectable
+      family, where you will have more comfort and a higher station than you
+      have here. You can finish your education, and, instead of being taught,
+      you will be thus enabled to become a teacher to others. With your beauty,
+      Alice&rdquo; (and Maltravers sighed), &ldquo;and natural talents, and amiable temper,
+      you have only to act well and prudently to secure at last a worthy husband
+      and a happy home. Have you heard me, Alice? Such is the plan I have formed
+      for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man thought as he spoke, with honest kindness and upright
+      honour; it was a bitterer sacrifice than perhaps the reader thinks for.
+      But Maltravers, if he had an impassioned, had not a selfish heart; and he
+      felt, to use his own expression, more emphatic than eloquent, that &ldquo;it
+      would not do&rdquo; to live any longer alone with this beautiful girl, like the
+      two children whom the good Fairy kept safe from sin and the world in the
+      Pavilion of Roses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Alice comprehended neither the danger to herself nor the temptations
+      that Maltravers, if he could not resist, desired to shun. She rose, pale
+      and trembling&mdash;approached Maltravers and laid her hand gently on his
+      arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will go away, when and where you wish&mdash;the sooner the better&mdash;to-morrow&mdash;yes,
+      to-morrow; you are ashamed of poor Alice; and it has been very silly in me
+      to be so happy.&rdquo; (She struggled with her emotion for a moment, and went
+      on.) &ldquo;You know Heaven can hear me, even when I am away from you, and when
+      I know more I can pray better; and Heaven will bless you, sir, and make
+      you happy, for I never can pray for anything else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With these words she turned away, and walked proudly towards the door. But
+      when she reached the threshold, she stopped and looked round, as if to
+      take a last farewell. All the associations and memories of that beloved
+      spot rushed upon her&mdash;she gasped for breath,&mdash;tottered,&mdash;and
+      fell to the ground insensible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers was already by her side; he lifted her light weight in his
+      arms; he uttered wild and impassioned exclamations&mdash;&ldquo;Alice, beloved
+      Alice&mdash;forgive me; we will never part!&rdquo; He chafed her hands in his
+      own, while her head lay on his bosom, and he kissed again and again those
+      beautiful eyelids, till they opened slowly upon him, and the tender arms
+      tightened round him involuntarily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alice,&rdquo; he whispered&mdash;&ldquo;Alice, dear Alice, I love thee.&rdquo; Alas, it was
+      true: he loved&mdash;and forgot all but that love. He was eighteen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;How like a younker or a prodigal,
+  The scarfed bark puts from her native bay!&rdquo;
+    <i>Merchant of Venice</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      WE are apt to connect the voice of Conscience with the stillness of
+      midnight. But I think we wrong that innocent hour. It is that terrible
+      &ldquo;NEXT MORNING,&rdquo; when reason is wide awake, upon which remorse fastens its
+      fangs. Has a man gambled away his all, or shot his friend in a duel&mdash;has
+      he committed a crime or incurred a laugh&mdash;it is the <i>next morning</i>,
+      when the irretrievable Past rises before him like a spectre; then doth the
+      churchyard of memory yield up its grisly dead&mdash;then is the witching
+      hour when the foul fiend within us can least tempt perhaps, but most
+      torment. At night we have one thing to hope for, one refuge to fly to&mdash;oblivion
+      and sleep! But at morning, sleep is over, and we are called upon coldly to
+      review, and re-act, and live again the waking bitterness of self-reproach.
+      Maltravers rose a penitent and unhappy man&mdash;remorse was new to him,
+      and he felt as if he had committed a treacherous and fraudulent as well as
+      guilty deed. This poor girl, she was so innocent, so confiding, so
+      unprotected, even by her own sense of right. He went down-stairs listless
+      and dispirited. He longed yet dreaded to encounter Alice. He heard her
+      step in the conservatory&mdash;paused, irresolute, and at length joined
+      her. For the first time she blushed and trembled, and her eyes shunned
+      his. But when he kissed her hand in silence, she whispered, &ldquo;And am I now
+      to leave you?&rdquo; And Maltravers answered fervently, &ldquo;Never!&rdquo; and then her
+      face grew so radiant with joy that Maltravers was comforted despite
+      himself. Alice knew no remorse, though she felt agitated and ashamed; as
+      she had not comprehended the danger, neither was she aware of the fall. In
+      fact, she never thought of herself. Her whole soul was with him; she gave
+      him back in love the spirit she had caught from him in knowledge.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      And they strolled together through the garden all that day, and Maltravers
+      grew reconciled to himself. He had done wrong, it is true; but then
+      perhaps Alice had already suffered as much as she could in the world&rsquo;s
+      opinion, by living with him alone, though innocent, so long. And now she
+      had an everlasting claim to his protection&mdash;she should never know
+      shame or want. And the love that had led to the wrong should, by fidelity
+      and devotion, take from it the character of sin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Natural and commonplace sophistries! <i>L&rsquo;homme se pique!</i> as old
+      Montaigne said; Man is his own sharper! The conscience is the most elastic
+      material in the world. To-day you cannot stretch it over a mole-hill,
+      to-morrow it hides a mountain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      O how happy they were now&mdash;that young pair! How the days flew like
+      dreams! Time went on, winter passed away, and the early spring, with its
+      flowers and sunshine, was like a mirror to their own youth. Alice never
+      accompanied Maltravers in his walks abroad, partly because she feared to
+      meet her father, and partly because Maltravers himself was fastidiously
+      averse to all publicity. But then they had all that little world of three
+      acres&mdash;lawn and fountain, shrubbery and terrace, to themselves, and
+      Alice never asked if there was any other world without. She was now quite
+      a scholar, as Mr. Simcox himself averred. She could read aloud and
+      fluently to Maltravers, and copied out his poetry in a small, fluctuating
+      hand, and he had no longer to chase throughout his vocabulary for short
+      Saxon monosyllables to make the bridge of intercourse between their ideas.
+      Eros and Psyche are ever united, and Love opens all the petals of the
+      soul. On one subject alone, Maltravers was less eloquent than of yore. He
+      had not succeeded as a moralist, and he thought it hypocritical to preach
+      what he did not practise. But Alice was gentler and purer, and as far as
+      she knew, sweet fool! better than ever&mdash;she had invented a new prayer
+      for herself; and she prayed as regularly and as fervently as if she were
+      doing nothing amiss. But the code of Heaven is gentler than that of earth,
+      and does not declare that ignorance excuseth not the crime.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VIII.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Some clouds sweep on as vultures for their prey.
+
+</pre>
+    <hr />
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  No azure more shall robe the firmament,
+  Nor spangled stars be glorious.&rdquo;
+    BYRON, <i>Heaven and Earth</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      IT was a lovely evening in April, the weather was unusually mild and
+      serene for the time of year, in the northern districts of our isle, and
+      the bright drops of a recent shower sparkled upon the buds of the lilac
+      and laburnum that clustered round the cottage of Maltravers. The little
+      fountain that played in the centre of a circular basin, on whose clear
+      surface the broad-leaved water-lily cast its fairy shadow, added to the
+      fresh green of the lawn;
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;And softe as velvet the yonge grass,&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      on which the rare and early flowers were closing their heavy lids. That
+      twilight shower had given a racy and vigorous sweetness to the air which
+      stole over many a bank of violets, and slightly stirred the golden
+      ringlets of Alice as she sate by the side of her entranced and silent
+      lover. They were seated on a rustic bench just without the cottage, and
+      the open window behind them admitted the view of that happy room&mdash;with
+      its litter of books and musical instruments&mdash;eloquent of the POETRY
+      of HOME.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers was silent, for his flexile and excitable fancy was conjuring
+      up a thousand shapes along the transparent air, or upon those shadowy
+      violet banks. He was not thinking, he was imagining. His genius reposed
+      dreamily upon the calm, but exquisite sense of his happiness. Alice was
+      not absolutely in his thoughts, but unconsciously she coloured them all&mdash;if
+      she had left his side, the whole charm would have been broken. But Alice,
+      who was not a poet or a genius, <i>was</i> thinking, and thinking only of
+      Maltravers.... His image was &ldquo;the broken mirror&rdquo; multiplied in a thousand
+      faithful fragments over everything fair and soft in that lovely microcosm
+      before her. But they were both alike in one thing&mdash;they were not with
+      the Future, they were sensible of the Present&mdash;the sense of the
+      actual life, the enjoyment of the breathing time was strong within them.
+      Such is the privilege of the extremes of our existence&mdash;Youth and
+      Age. Middle life is never with to-day, its home is in to-morrow...
+      anxious, and scheming, and desiring, and wishing this plot ripened, and
+      that hope fulfilled, while every wave of the forgotten Time brings it
+      nearer and nearer to the end of all things. Half our life is consumed in
+      longing to be nearer death.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alice,&rdquo; said Maltravers, waking at last from his reverie, and drawing
+      that light, childlike form nearer to him, &ldquo;you enjoy this hour as much as
+      I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, much more!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More! and why so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I am thinking of you, and perhaps you are not thinking of
+      yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers smiled and stroked those beautiful ringlets, and kissed that
+      smooth, innocent forehead, and Alice nestled herself in his breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How young you look by this light, Alice!&rdquo; said he, tenderly looking down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you love me less if I were old?&rdquo; asked Alice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose I should never have loved you in the same way if you had been
+      old when I first saw you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet I am sure I should have felt the same for you if you had been&mdash;oh!
+      ever so old!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, with wrinkled cheeks, and palsied head, and a brown wig, and no
+      teeth, like Mr. Simcox?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, but you could never be like that! You would always look young&mdash;your
+      heart would be always in your face. That clear smile&mdash;ah, you would
+      look beautiful to the last!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But Simcox, though not very lovely now, has been, I dare say, handsomer
+      than I am, Alice; and I shall be contented to look as well when I am as
+      old!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should never know you were old, because I can see you just as I please.
+      Sometimes, when you are thoughtful, your brows meet, and you look so stern
+      that I tremble; but then I think of you when you last smiled, and look up
+      again, and though you are frowning still, you seem to smile. I am sure you
+      are different to other eyes than to mine... and time must kill <i>me</i>
+      before, in my sight, it could alter <i>you</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sweet Alice, you talk eloquently, for you talk love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My heart talks to you. Ah! I wish it could say all I felt. I wish it
+      could make poetry like you, or that words were music&mdash;I would never
+      speak to you in anything else. I was so delighted to learn music, because
+      when I played I seemed to be talking to you. I am sure that whoever
+      invented music did it because he loved dearly and wanted to say so. I said
+      &lsquo;<i>he</i>,&rsquo; but I think it was a woman. Was it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Greeks I told you of, and whose life was music, thought it was a
+      god.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, but you say the Greeks made Love a god. Were they wicked for it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our own God above is Love,&rdquo; said Ernest, seriously, &ldquo;as our own poets
+      have said and sung. But it is a love of another nature&mdash;divine, not
+      human. Come, we will go within, the air grows cold for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They entered, his arm round her waist. The room smiled upon them its quiet
+      welcome; and Alice, whose heart had not half vented its fulness, sat down
+      to the instrument still to &ldquo;talk love&rdquo; in her own way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But it was Saturday evening. Now every Saturday, Maltravers received from
+      the neighbouring town the provincial newspaper&mdash;it was his only
+      medium of communication with the great world. But it was not for that
+      communication that he always seized it with avidity, and fed on it with
+      interest. The county in which his father resided bordered on the shire in
+      which Ernest sojourned, and the paper included the news of that familiar
+      district in its comprehensive columns. It therefore satisfied Ernest&rsquo;s
+      conscience and soothed his filial anxieties to read from time to time that
+      &ldquo;Mr. Maltravers was entertaining a distinguished party of friends at his
+      noble mansion of Lisle Court;&rdquo; or that &ldquo;Mr. Maltravers&rsquo;s foxhounds had met
+      on such a day at something copse;&rdquo; or that, &ldquo;Mr. Maltravers, with his
+      usual munificence, had subscribed twenty guineas to the new county
+      gaol.&rdquo;... And as now Maltravers saw the expected paper laid beside the
+      hissing urn, he seized it eagerly, tore the envelope, and hastened to the
+      well-known corner appropriated to the paternal district. The very first
+      words that struck his eye were these:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   ALARMING ILLNESS OF MR. MALTRAVERS.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We regret to state that this exemplary and distinguished gentleman was
+      suddenly seized on Wednesday night with a severe spasmodic affection. Dr.
+      &mdash;&mdash;&mdash; was immediately sent for, who pronounced it to be
+      gout in the stomach. The first medical assistance from London has been
+      summoned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Postscript.&mdash;We have just learned, in answer to our inquiries at
+      Lisle Court, that the respected owner is considerably worse: but slight
+      hopes are entertained of his recovery. Captain Maltravers, his eldest son
+      and heir, is at Lisle Court. An express has been despatched in search of
+      Mr. Ernest Maltravers, who, involved by his high English spirit in some
+      dispute with the authorities of a despotic government, had suddenly
+      disappeared from Gottingen, where his extraordinary talents had highly
+      distinguished him. He is supposed to be staying at Paris.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The paper dropped on the floor. Ernest threw himself back on the chair,
+      and covered his face with his hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alice was beside him in a moment. He looked up, and caught her wistful and
+      terrified gaze. &ldquo;Oh, Alice!&rdquo; he cried, bitterly, and almost pushing her
+      away, &ldquo;if you could but guess my remorse!&rdquo; Then springing on his feet, he
+      hurried from the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the whole house was in commotion. The gardener, who was always
+      in the house about supper-time, flew to the town for post-horses. The old
+      woman was in despair about the laundress, for her first and only thought
+      was for &ldquo;master&rsquo;s shirts.&rdquo; Ernest locked himself in his room. Alice! poor
+      Alice!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In little more than twenty minutes, the chaise was at the door: and
+      Ernest, pale as death, came into the room where he had left Alice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was seated on the floor, and the fatal paper was on her lap. She had
+      been endeavouring, in vain, to learn what had so sensibly affected
+      Maltravers, for, as I said before, she was unacquainted with his real
+      name, and therefore the ominous paragraph did not even arrest her eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He took the paper from her, for he wanted again and again to read it: some
+      little word of hope or encouragement must have escaped him. And then Alice
+      flung herself on his breast. &ldquo;Do not weep,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;Heaven knows I have
+      sorrow enough of my own! My father is dying! So kind, so generous, so
+      indulgent! O God, forgive me! Compose yourself, Alice. You will hear from
+      me in a day or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He kissed her, but the kiss was cold and forced. He hurried away. She
+      heard the wheels grate on the pebbles. She rushed to the window; but that
+      beloved face was not visible. Maltravers had drawn the blinds, and thrown
+      himself back to indulge his grief. A moment more, and even the vehicle
+      that bore him away was gone. And before her were the flowers, and the
+      starlit lawn, and the playful fountain, and the bench where they had sat
+      in such heartfelt and serene delight. He was gone; and often, oh, how
+      often, did Alice remember that his last words had been uttered in
+      estranged tones&mdash;that his last embrace had been without love!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IX.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+    &ldquo;Thy due from me
+  Is tears: and heavy sorrows of the blood,
+  Which nature, love, and filial tenderness
+  Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously!&rdquo;
+    <i>Second Part of Henry IV.</i>, Act iv. Sc. 4.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      IT was late at night when the chaise that bore Maltravers stopped at the
+      gates of a park lodge. It seemed an age before the peasant within was
+      aroused from the deep sleep of labour-loving health. &ldquo;My father,&rdquo; he
+      cried, while the gate creaked on its hinges; &ldquo;my father&mdash;is he
+      better? Is he alive?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, bless your heart, Master Ernest, the squire was a little better this
+      evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank Heaven!&mdash;On&mdash;on!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The horses smoked and galloped along a road that wound through venerable
+      and ancient groves. The moonlight slept soft upon the sward, and the
+      cattle, disturbed from their sleep, rose lazily up, and gazed upon the
+      unseasonable intruder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is a wild and weird scene, one of those noble English parks at
+      midnight, with its rough forest-ground broken into dell and valley, its
+      never-innovated and mossy grass, overrun with fern, and its immemorial
+      trees, that have looked upon the birth, and look yet upon the graves, of a
+      hundred generations. Such spots are the last proud and melancholy trace of
+      Norman knighthood and old romance left to the laughing landscapes of
+      cultivated England. They always throw something of shadow and solemn gloom
+      upon minds that feels their associations, like that which belongs to some
+      ancient and holy edifice. They are the cathedral aisles of Nature with
+      their darkened vistas, and columned trunks, and arches of mighty foliage.
+      But in ordinary times the gloom is pleasing, and more delightful than all
+      the cheerful lawns and sunny slopes of the modern taste. <i>Now</i> to
+      Maltravers it was ominous and oppressive: the darkness of death seemed
+      brooding in every shadow, and its warning voice moaning in every breeze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The wheels stopped again. Lights flitted across the basement story; and
+      one above, more dim than the rest, shone palely from the room in which the
+      sick man slept. The bell rang shrilly out from amidst the dark ivy that
+      clung around the porch. The heavy door swung back&mdash;Maltravers was on
+      the threshold. His father lived&mdash;was better&mdash;was awake. The son
+      was in the father&rsquo;s arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER X.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+    &ldquo;The guardian oak
+  Mourn&rsquo;d o&rsquo;er the roof it shelter&rsquo;d: the thick air
+  Labour&rsquo;d with doleful sounds.&rdquo;
+    ELLIOTT of <i>Sheffield</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      MANY days had passed, and Alice was still alone; but she had heard twice
+      from Maltravers. The letters were short and hurried. One time his father
+      was better, and there were hopes; another time, and it was not expected
+      that he could survive the week. They were the first letters Alice had ever
+      received from him. Those <i>first</i> letters are an event in a girl&rsquo;s
+      life&mdash;in Alice&rsquo;s life they were a very melancholy one. Ernest did not
+      ask her to write to him; in fact, he felt, at such an hour, a repugnance
+      to disclose his real name, and receive the letters of clandestine love in
+      the house in which a father lay in death. He might have given the feigned
+      address he had previously assumed, at some distant post-town, where his
+      person was not known. But, then, to obtain such letters, he must quit his
+      father&rsquo;s side for hours. The thing was impossible. These difficulties
+      Maltravers did not explain to Alice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She thought it singular he did not wish to hear from her; but Alice was
+      humble. What could she say worth troubling him with, and at such an hour?
+      But how kind in him to write! how precious those letters! and yet they
+      disappointed her, and cost her floods of tears: they were so short&mdash;so
+      full of sorrow&mdash;there was so little love in them; and &ldquo;dear,&rdquo; or even
+      &ldquo;<i>dearest</i> Alice,&rdquo; that uttered by the voice was so tender, looked
+      cold upon the lifeless paper. If she but knew the exact spot where he was
+      it would be some comfort; but she only knew that he was away, and in
+      grief; and though he was little more than thirty miles distant, she felt
+      as if immeasurable space divided them. However, she consoled herself as
+      she could; and strove to shorten the long miserable day by playing over
+      all the airs he liked, and reading all the passages he had commended. She
+      should be so improved when he returned; and how lovely the garden would
+      look; for every day its trees and bouquets caught a new smile from the
+      deepening spring. Oh, they would be so happy once more! Alice <i>now</i>
+      learned the life that lies in the future; and her young heart had not, as
+      yet, been taught that of that future there is any prophet but Hope!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers, on quitting the cottage, had forgotten that Alice was without
+      money, and now that he found his stay would be indefinitely prolonged, he
+      sent a remittance. Several bills were unpaid&mdash;some portion of the
+      rent was due; and Alice, as she was desired, intrusted the old servant
+      with a bank note, with which she was to discharge these petty debts. One
+      evening, as she brought Alice the surplus, the good dame seemed greatly
+      discomposed. She was pale and agitated; or, as she expressed it, &ldquo;had a
+      terrible fit of the shakes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter, Mrs. Jones? you have no news of him&mdash;of&mdash;of
+      my&mdash;of your master?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear heart, miss&mdash;no,&rdquo; answered Mrs. Jones; &ldquo;how should I? But I&rsquo;m
+      sure I don&rsquo;t wish to frighten you; there has been two sich robberies in
+      the neighbourhood!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, thank Heaven that&rsquo;s all!&rdquo; exclaimed Alice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t go for to thank Heaven for that, miss; it&rsquo;s a shocking thing
+      for two lone females like us, and them &lsquo;ere windows all open to the
+      ground! You sees, as I was taking the note to be changed at Mr. Harris&rsquo;s,
+      the great grocer&rsquo;s shop, where all the poor folk was a-buying agin
+      to-morrow&rdquo; (for it was Saturday night, the second Saturday after Ernest&rsquo;s
+      departure; from that Hegira Alice dated all her chronology), &ldquo;and
+      everybody was a-talking about the robberies last night. La, miss, they
+      bound old Betty&mdash;you know Betty&mdash;a most respectable &lsquo;oman, who
+      has known sorrows, and drinks tea with me once a week. Well, miss, they
+      (only think!) bound Betty to the bedpost, with nothing on her but her
+      shift&mdash;poor old soul! And as Mr. Harris gave me the change (please to
+      see, miss, it&rsquo;s all right), and I asked for half gould, miss, it&rsquo;s more
+      convenient, sich an ill-looking fellow was by me, a-buying o&rsquo; baccy, and
+      he did so stare at the money, that I vows I thought he&rsquo;d have rin away
+      with it from the counter; so I grabbled it up and went away. But, would
+      you believe, miss, just as I got into the lane, afore you turns through
+      the gate, I chanced to look back, and there, sure enough, was that ugly
+      fellow close behind, a-running like mad. Oh, I set up such a screetch; and
+      young Dobbins was a-taking his cow out of the field, and he perked up over
+      the hedge when he heard me; and the cow, too, with her horns, Lord bless
+      her! So the fellow stopped, and I bustled through the gate, and got home.
+      But la, miss, if we are all robbed and murdered?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alice had not heard much of this harangue; but what she did hear very
+      slightly affected her strong, peasant-born nerves; not half so much
+      indeed, as the noise Mrs. Jones made in double-locking all the doors, and
+      barring, as well as a peg and a rusty inch of chain would allow, all the
+      windows&mdash;which operation occupied at least an hour and a half.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All at last was still. Mrs. Jones had gone to bed&mdash;in the arms of
+      sleep she had forgotten her terrors&mdash;and Alice had crept up-stairs,
+      and undressed, and said her prayers, and wept a little; and, with the
+      tears yet moist upon her dark eyelashes, had glided into dreams of Ernest.
+      Midnight was passed&mdash;the stroke of one sounded unheard from the clock
+      at the foot of the stars. The moon was gone&mdash;a slow, drizzling rain
+      was falling upon the flowers, and cloud and darkness gathered fast and
+      thick around the sky.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      About this time, a low, regular, grating sound commenced at the thin
+      shutters of the sitting-room below, preceded by a very faint noise, like
+      the tinkling of small fragments of glass on the gravel without. At length
+      it ceased, and the cautious and partial gleam of a lanthorn fell along the
+      floor; another moment, and two men stood in the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush, Jack!&rdquo; whispered one: &ldquo;hang out the glim, and let&rsquo;s look about us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The dark-lanthorn, now fairly unmuffled, presented to the gaze of the
+      robbers nothing that could gratify their cupidity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Books and music, chairs, tables, carpet, and fire-irons, though valuable
+      enough in a house-agent&rsquo;s inventory, are worthless to the eyes of a
+      housebreaker. They muttered a mutual curse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jack,&rdquo; said the former speaker, &ldquo;we must make a dash at the spoons and
+      forks, and then hey for the money. The old girl had thirty shiners,
+      besides flimsies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The accomplice nodded consent; the lanthorn was again partially shaded,
+      and with noiseless and stealthy steps the men quitted the apartment.
+      Several minutes elapsed, when Alice was awakened from her slumber by a
+      loud scream she started, all was again silent: she must have dreamt it:
+      her little heart beat violently at first, but gradually regained its
+      tenor. She rose, however, and the kindness of her nature being more
+      susceptible than her fear, she imagined Mrs. Jones might be ill&mdash;she
+      would go to her. With this idea she began partially dressing herself, when
+      she distinctly heard heavy footsteps and a strange voice in the room
+      beyond. She was now thoroughly alarmed&mdash;her first impulse was to
+      escape from the house&mdash;her next to bolt the door, and call aloud for
+      assistance. But who would hear her cries? Between the two purposes, she
+      halted irresolute... and remained, pale and trembling, seated at the foot
+      of the bed, when a broad light streamed through the chinks of the door&mdash;an
+      instant more, and a rude hand seized her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, mem, don&rsquo;t be fritted, we won&rsquo;t harm you; but where&rsquo;s the gold-dust&mdash;where&rsquo;s
+      the money?&mdash;the old girl says you&rsquo;ve got it. Fork it over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O mercy, mercy! John Walters, is that you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Damnation!&rdquo; muttered the man, staggering back; &ldquo;so you knows me then; but
+      you sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t peach; you sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t scrag me, b&mdash;-t you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While he spoke, he again seized Alice, held her forcibly down with one
+      hand, while with the other he deliberately drew from a side pouch a long
+      case-knife. In that moment of deadly peril, the second ruffian, who had
+      been hitherto delayed in securing the servant, rushed forward. He had
+      heard the exclamation of Alice, he heard the threat of his comrade; he
+      darted to the bedside, cast a hurried gaze upon Alice, and hurled the
+      intended murderer to the other side of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, man, art mad?&rdquo; he growled between his teeth. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you know her?
+      It is Alice;&mdash;it is my daughter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alice had sprung up when released from the murderer&rsquo;s knife, and now, with
+      eyes strained and starting with horror, gazed upon the dark and evil face
+      of her deliverer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O God, it is&mdash;it is my father!&rdquo; she muttered, and fell senseless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Daughter or no daughter,&rdquo; said John Walters, &ldquo;I shall not put my scrag in
+      her power; recollect how she fritted us before, when she run away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Darvil stood thoughtful and perplexed; and his associate approached
+      doggedly with a look of such settled ferocity as it was impossible for
+      even Darvil to contemplate without a shudder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You say right,&rdquo; muttered the father, after a pause, but fixing his strong
+      gripe on his comrade&rsquo;s shoulder,&mdash;&ldquo;the girl must not be left here&mdash;the
+      cart has a covering. We are leaving the country; I have a right to my
+      daughter&mdash;she shall go with us. There, man, grab the money&mdash;it&rsquo;s
+      on the table;.... you&rsquo;ve got the spoons. Now then&mdash;&rdquo; as Darvil spoke
+      he seized his daughter in his arms; threw over her a shawl and a cloak
+      that lay at hand, and was already on the threshold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t half like it,&rdquo; said Walters, grumblingly&mdash;&ldquo;it been&rsquo;t safe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At least it is as safe as murder!&rdquo; answered Darvil, turning round, with a
+      ghastly grin. &ldquo;Make haste.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When Alice recovered her senses, the dawn was breaking slowly along
+      desolate and sullen hills. She was lying upon rough straw&mdash;the cart
+      was jolting over the ruts of a precipitous, lonely road,&mdash;and by her
+      side scowled the face of that dreadful father.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XI.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Yet he beholds her with the eyes of mind&mdash;
+  He sees the form which he no more shall meet;
+  She like a passionate thought is come and gone,
+  While at his feet the bright rill bubbles on.&rdquo;
+    ELLIOTT <i>of Sheffield</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      IT was a little more than three weeks after that fearful night, when the
+      chaise of Maltravers stopped at the cottage door&mdash;the windows were
+      shut up; no one answered the repeated summons of the post-boy. Maltravers
+      himself, alarmed and amazed, descended from the vehicle: he was in deep
+      mourning. He went impatiently to the back entrance; that also was locked;
+      round to the French windows of the drawing-room, always hitherto
+      half-opened, even in the frosty days of winter,&mdash;they were now closed
+      like the rest. He shouted in terror, &ldquo;Alice, Alice!&rdquo;&mdash;no sweet voice
+      answered in breathless joy, no fairy step bounded forward in welcome. At
+      this moment, however, appeared the form of the gardener coming across the
+      lawn. The tale was soon told; the house had been robbed&mdash;the old
+      woman at morning found gagged and fastened to her bed-post&mdash;Alice
+      flown. A magistrate had been applied to,&mdash;suspicion fell upon the
+      fugitive. None knew anything of her origin or name, not even the old
+      woman. Maltravers had naturally and sedulously ordained Alice to preserve
+      that secret, and she was too much in fear of being detected and claimed by
+      her father not to obey the injunction with scrupulous caution. But it was
+      known, at least, that she had entered the house a poor peasant girl; and
+      what more common than for ladies of a certain description to run away from
+      their lover, and take some of his property by mistake? And a poor girl
+      like Alice, what else could be expected? The magistrate smiled, and the
+      constables laughed. After all, it was a good joke at the young gentleman&rsquo;s
+      expense! Perhaps, as they had no orders from Maltravers, and they did not
+      know where to find him, and thought he would be little inclined to
+      prosecute, the search was not very rigorous. But two houses had been
+      robbed the night before. Their owners were more on the alert. Suspicion
+      fell upon a man of infamous character, John Walters; he had disappeared
+      from the place. He had been last seen with an idle, drunken fellow, who
+      was said to have known better days, and who at one time had been a skilful
+      and well-paid mechanic, till his habits of theft and drunkenness threw him
+      out of employ; and he had been since accused of connection with a gang of
+      coiners&mdash;tried&mdash;and escaped from want of sufficient evidence
+      against him. That man was Luke Darvil. His cottage was searched; but he
+      also had fled. The trace of cart-wheels by the gate of Maltravers gave a
+      faint clue to pursuit; and after an active search of some days, persons
+      answering to the description of the suspected burglars&mdash;with a young
+      female in their company&mdash;were tracked to a small inn, notorious as a
+      resort for smugglers, by the sea-coast. But there every vestige of their
+      supposed whereabouts disappeared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And all this was told to the stunned Maltravers; the garrulity of the
+      gardener precluded the necessity of his own inquiries, and the name of
+      Darvil explained to him all that was dark to others. And Alice was
+      suspected of the basest and the blackest guilt! Obscure, beloved,
+      protected as she had been, she could not escape the calumny from which he
+      had hoped everlastingly to shield her. But did <i>he</i> share that
+      hateful thought? Maltravers was too generous and too enlightened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dog!&rdquo; said he, grinding his teeth, and clenching his hands, at the
+      startled menial, &ldquo;dare to utter a syllable of suspicion against her, and I
+      will trample the breath out of your body!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old woman, who had vowed that for the &lsquo;varsal world she would not stay
+      in the house after such a &ldquo;night of shakes,&rdquo; had now learned the news of
+      her master&rsquo;s return, and came hobbling up to him. She arrived in time to
+      hear his menace to her fellow-servant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that&rsquo;s right; give it him, your honour; bless your good heart!&mdash;that&rsquo;s
+      what I says. Miss rob the house! says I&mdash;Miss run away. Oh no&mdash;depend
+      on it they have murdered her and buried the body.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers gasped for breath, but without uttering another word he
+      re-entered the chaise and drove to the house of the magistrate. He found
+      that functionary a worthy and intelligent man of the world. To him he
+      confided the secret of Alice&rsquo;s birth and his own. The magistrate concurred
+      with him in believing that Alice had been discovered and removed by her
+      father. New search was made&mdash;gold was lavished. Maltravers himself
+      headed the search in person. But all came to the same result as before,
+      save that by the descriptions he heard of the person&mdash;the dress&mdash;the
+      tears, of the young female who had accompanied the men supposed to be
+      Darvil and Walters, he was satisfied that Alice yet lived; he hoped she
+      might yet escape and return. In that hope he lingered for weeks&mdash;for
+      months, in the neighbourhood; but time passed and no tidings.... He was
+      forced at length to quit a neighbourhood at once so saddened and endeared.
+      But he secured a friend in the magistrate, who promised to communicate
+      with him if Alice returned, or her father was discovered. He enriched Mrs.
+      Jones for life, in gratitude for her vindication of his lost and early
+      love; he promised the amplest rewards for the smallest clue. And with a
+      crushed and desponding spirit, he obeyed at last the repeated and anxious
+      summons of the guardian to whose care, until his majority was attained,
+      the young orphan was now entrusted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XII.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Sure there are poets that did never dream
+  Upon Parnassus.&rdquo;&mdash;DENHAM.
+
+ &ldquo;Walk sober off, before a sprightlier age
+  Come tittering on, and shove you from the stage.&rdquo;&mdash;POPE.
+
+ &ldquo;Hence to repose your trust in me was wise.&rdquo;
+    DRYDEN&rsquo;S <i>Absalom and Achitophel</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      MR. FREDERICK CLEVELAND, a younger son of the Earl of Byrneham, and
+      therefore entitled to the style and distinction of &ldquo;Honourable,&rdquo; was the
+      guardian of Ernest Maltravers. He was now about the age of forty-three; a
+      man of letters and a man of fashion, if the last half-obsolete expression
+      be permitted to us, as being at least more classical and definite than any
+      other which modern euphuism has invented to convey the same meaning.
+      Highly educated, and with natural abilities considerably above mediocrity,
+      Mr. Cleveland early in life had glowed with the ambition of an author....
+      He had written well and gracefully&mdash;but his success, though
+      respectable, did not satisfy his aspirations. The fact is, that a new
+      school of literature ruled the public, despite the critics&mdash;a school
+      very different from that in which Mr. Cleveland formed his unimpassioned
+      and polished periods. And as that old Earl, who in the time of Charles the
+      First was the reigning wit of the court, in the time of Charles the Second
+      was considered too dull even for a butt, so every age has its own literary
+      stamp and coinage, and consigns the old circulation to its shelves and
+      cabinets as neglected curiosities. Cleveland could not become the fashion
+      with the public as an author, though the coteries cried him up and the
+      reviewers adored him&mdash;and the ladies of quality and the amateur
+      dilettanti bought and bound his volumes of careful poetry and cadenced
+      prose. But Cleveland had high birth and a handsome competence&mdash;his
+      manners were delightful, his conversation fluent&mdash;and his disposition
+      was as amiable as his mind was cultured. He became, therefore, a man
+      greatly sought after in society both respected and beloved. If he had not
+      genius, he had great good sense; he did not vex his urbane temper and
+      kindly heart with walking after a vain shadow, and disquieting himself in
+      vain. Satisfied with an honourable and unenvied reputation, he gave up the
+      dream of that higher fame which he clearly saw was denied to his
+      aspirations&mdash;and maintained his good-humour with the world, though in
+      his secret soul he thought it was very wrong in its literary caprices.
+      Cleveland never married: he lived partly in town, but principally at
+      Temple Grove, a villa not far from Richmond. Here, with an excellent
+      library, beautiful grounds, and a circle of attached and admiring friends,
+      which comprised all the more refined and intellectual members of what is
+      termed, by emphasis, <i>Good Society</i>&mdash;this accomplished and
+      elegant person passed a life perhaps much happier than he would have known
+      had his young visions been fulfilled, and it had become his stormy fate to
+      lead the rebellious and fierce Democracy of Letters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Cleveland was indeed, if not a man of high and original genius, at least
+      very superior to the generality of patrician authors. In retiring,
+      himself, from frequent exercise in the arena, he gave up his mind with
+      renewed zest to the thoughts and masterpieces of others. From a well-read
+      man, he became a deeply instructed one. Metaphysics, and some of the
+      material sciences, added new treasures to information more light and
+      miscellaneous, and contributed to impart weight and dignity to a mind that
+      might otherwise have become somewhat effeminate and frivolous. His social
+      habits, his clear sense, and benevolence of judgment, made him also an
+      exquisite judge of all those indefinable nothings, or little things, that,
+      formed into a total, become knowledge of the Great World. I say the Great
+      World&mdash;for of the world without the circle of the great, Cleveland
+      naturally knew but little. But of all that related to that subtle orbit in
+      which gentlemen and ladies move in elevated and ethereal order, Cleveland
+      was a profound philosopher. It was the mode with many of his admirers to
+      style him the Horace Walpole of the day. But though in some of the more
+      external and superficial points of character they were alike, Cleveland
+      had considerably less cleverness, and infinitely more heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The late Mr. Maltravers, a man not indeed of literary habits but an
+      admirer of those who were&mdash;an elegant, high-bred, hospitable <i>seigneur
+      de province</i>&mdash;had been one of the earliest of Cleveland&rsquo;s friends&mdash;Cleveland
+      had been his fag at Eton&mdash;and he found Hal Maltravers&mdash;(Handsome
+      Hal!) had become the darling of the clubs, when he made his own <i>debut</i>
+      in society. They were inseparable for a season or two&mdash;and when Mr.
+      Maltravers married, and enamoured of country pursuits, proud of his old
+      hall, and sensibly enough conceiving that he was a greater man in his own
+      broad lands than in the republican aristocracy of London, settled
+      peaceably at Lisle Court, Cleveland corresponded with him regularly, and
+      visited him twice a year. Mrs. Maltravers died in giving birth to Ernest,
+      her second son. Her husband loved her tenderly, and was long inconsolable
+      for her loss. He could not bear the sight of the child that had cost him
+      so dear a sacrifice. Cleveland and his sister, Lady Julia Danvers, were
+      residing with him at the time of this melancholy event; and with judicious
+      and delicate kindness, Lady Julia proposed to place the unconscious
+      offender amongst her own children for some months. The proposition was
+      accepted, and it was two years before the infant Ernest was restored to
+      the paternal mansion. During the greater part of that time, he had gone
+      through all the events and revolutions of baby life under the bachelor
+      roof of Frederick Cleveland.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The result of this was, that the latter loved the child like a father.
+      Ernest&rsquo;s first intelligible word hailed Cleveland as &ldquo;papa;&rdquo; and when the
+      urchin was at length deposited at Lisle Court, Cleveland talked all the
+      nurses out of breath with admonitions, and cautions, and injunctions, and
+      promises, and threats, which might have put many a careful mother to the
+      blush. This circumstance formed a new tie between Cleveland and his
+      friend. Cleveland&rsquo;s visits were now three times a year instead of twice.
+      Nothing was done for Ernest without Cleveland&rsquo;s advice. He was not even
+      breeched till Cleveland gave his grave consent. Cleveland chose his
+      school, and took him to it,&mdash;and he spent a week of every vacation in
+      Cleveland&rsquo;s house. The boy never got into a scrape, or won a prize, or
+      wanted <i>a tip</i>, or coveted a book, but what Cleveland was the first
+      to know of it. Fortunately, too, Ernest manifested by times tastes which
+      the graceful author thought similar to his own. He early developed very
+      remarkable talents, and a love for learning&mdash;though these were
+      accompanied with a vigour of life and soul&mdash;an energy&mdash;a daring&mdash;which
+      gave Cleveland some uneasiness, and which did not appear to him at all
+      congenial with the moody shyness of an embryo genius, or the regular
+      placidity of a precocious scholar. Meanwhile the relation between father
+      and son was rather a singular one. Mr. Maltravers had overcome his first,
+      not unnatural, repugnance to the innocent cause of his irremediable loss.
+      He was now fond and proud of his boy&mdash;as he was of all things that
+      belonged to him. He spoiled and petted him even more than Cleveland did.
+      But he interfered very little with his education or pursuits. His eldest
+      son, Cuthbert, did not engross all his heart, but occupied all his care.
+      With Cuthbert he connected the heritage of his ancient name, and the
+      succession of his ancestral estates. Cuthbert was not a genius, nor
+      intended to be one; he was to be an accomplished gentleman, and a great
+      proprietor. The father understood Cuthbert, and could see clearly both his
+      character and career. He had no scruple in managing his education, and
+      forming his growing mind. But Ernest puzzled him. Mr. Maltravers was even
+      a little embarrassed in the boy&rsquo;s society; he never quite overcame that
+      feeling of strangeness towards him which he had experienced when he first
+      received him back from Cleveland, and took Cleveland&rsquo;s directions about
+      his health and so forth. It always seemed to him as if his friend shared
+      his right to the child; and he thought it a sort of presumption to scold
+      Ernest, though he very often swore at Cuthbert. As the younger son grew
+      up, it certainly was evident that Cleveland did understand him better than
+      his own father did; and so, as I have before said, on Cleveland the father
+      was not displeased passively to shift the responsibility of the rearing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps Mr. Maltravers might not have been so indifferent, had Ernest&rsquo;s
+      prospects been those of a younger son in general. If a profession had been
+      necessary for him, Mr. Maltravers would have been naturally anxious to see
+      him duly fitted for it. But from a maternal relation Ernest inherited an
+      estate of about four thousand pounds a year; and he was thus made
+      independent of his father. This loosened another tie between them; and so
+      by degrees Mr. Maltravers learned to consider Ernest less as his own son,
+      to be advised or rebuked, praised or controlled, than as a very
+      affectionate, promising, engaging boy, who, somehow or other, without any
+      trouble on his part, was very likely to do great credit to his family, and
+      indulge his eccentricities upon four thousand pounds a year. The first
+      time that Mr. Maltravers was seriously perplexed about him was when the
+      boy, at the age of sixteen, having taught himself German, and intoxicated
+      his wild fancies with <i>Werter</i> and <i>The Robbers</i>, announced his
+      desire, which sounded very like a demand, of going to Gottingen instead of
+      to Oxford. Never were Mr. Maltravers&rsquo;s notions of a proper and
+      gentlemanlike finish to education more completely and rudely assaulted. He
+      stammered out a negative, and hurried to his study to write a long letter
+      to Cleveland, who, himself an Oxford prize-man, would, he was persuaded,
+      see the matter in the same light. Cleveland answered the letter in person:
+      listened in silence to all the father had to say, and then strolled
+      through the park with the young man. The result of the latter conference
+      was, that Cleveland declared in favour of Ernest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, my dear Frederick,&rdquo; said the astonished father, &ldquo;I thought the boy
+      was to carry off all the prizes at Oxford?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I carried off some, Maltravers; but I don&rsquo;t see what good they did me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Cleveland!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am serious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it is such a very odd fancy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your son is a very odd young man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fear he is so&mdash;I fear he is, poor fellow! But what will he learn
+      at Gottingen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Languages and Independence,&rdquo; said Cleveland.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the classics&mdash;the classics&mdash;you are such an excellent
+      Grecian!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are great Grecians in Germany,&rdquo; answered Cleveland; &ldquo;and Ernest
+      cannot well unlearn what he knows already. My dear Maltravers, the boy is
+      not like most clever young men. He must either go through action, and
+      adventure, and excitement in his own way, or he will be an idle dreamer,
+      or an impracticable enthusiast all his life. Let him alone.&mdash;So
+      Cuthbert is gone into the Guards?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he went first to Oxford.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! What a fine young man he is!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not so tall as Ernest, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A handsome face,&rdquo; said Cleveland. &ldquo;He is a son to be proud of in one way,
+      as I hope Ernest will be in another. Will you show me your new hunter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      It was to the house of this gentleman, so judiciously made his guardian,
+      that the student of Gottingen now took his melancholy way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIII.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;But if a little exercise you choose,
+   Some zest for ease, &lsquo;tis not forbidden here;
+  Amid the groves you may indulge the Muse,
+   Or tend the blooms and deck the vernal year.&rdquo;
+      <i>Castle of Indolence</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      THE house of Mr. Cleveland was an Italian villa adapted to an English
+      climate. Through an Ionic arch you entered a domain of some eighty or a
+      hundred acres in extent, but so well planted and so artfully disposed,
+      that you could not have supposed the unseen boundaries inclosed no ampler
+      a space. The road wound through the greenest sward, in which trees of
+      venerable growth were relieved by a profusion of shrubs, and flowers
+      gathered into baskets intertwined with creepers, or blooming from classic
+      vases, placed with a tasteful care in such spots as required the <i>filling
+      up</i>, and harmonised well with the object chosen. Not an old ivy-grown
+      pollard, not a modest and bending willow, but was brought out, as it were,
+      into a peculiar feature by the art of the owner. Without being overloaded,
+      or too minutely elaborate (the common fault of the rich man&rsquo;s villa), the
+      whole place seemed one diversified and cultivated garden; even the air
+      almost took a different odour from different vegetation, with each winding
+      of the road; and the colours of the flowers and foliage varied with every
+      view.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length, when, on a lawn sloping towards a glassy lake overhung by limes
+      and chestnuts, and backed by a hanging wood, the house itself came in
+      sight, the whole prospect seemed suddenly to receive its finishing and
+      crowning feature. The house was long and low. A deep peristyle that
+      supported the roof extended the whole length, and being raised above the
+      basement had the appearance of a covered terrace; broad flights of steps,
+      with massive balustrades, supporting vases of aloes and orange-trees, led
+      to the lawn; and under the peristyle were ranged statues, Roman
+      antiquities and rare exotics. On this side the lake another terrace, very
+      broad, and adorned, at long intervals, with urns and sculpture, contrasted
+      the shadowy and sloping bank beyond; and commanded, through unexpected
+      openings in the trees, extensive views of the distant landscape, with the
+      stately Thames winding through the midst. The interior of the house
+      corresponded with the taste without. All the principal rooms, even those
+      appropriated to sleep, were on the same floor. A small but lofty and
+      octagonal hall conducted to a suite of four rooms. At one extremity was a
+      moderately-sized dining-room with a ceiling copied from the rich and gay
+      colours of Guido&rsquo;s &ldquo;Hours;&rdquo; and landscapes painted by Cleveland himself,
+      with no despicable skill, were let into the walls. A single piece of
+      sculpture copied from the Piping Faun, and tinged with a flesh-like glow
+      by purple and orange draperies behind it, relieved without darkening the
+      broad and arched window which formed its niche. This communicated with a
+      small picture-room, not indeed rich with those immortal gems for which
+      princes are candidates; for Cleveland&rsquo;s fortune was but that of a private
+      gentleman, though, managed with a discreet if liberal economy, it sufficed
+      for all his elegant desires. But the pictures had an interest beyond that
+      of art, and their subjects were within the reach of a collector of
+      ordinary opulence. They made a series of portraits&mdash;some originals,
+      some copies (and the copies were often the best) of Cleveland&rsquo;s favourite
+      authors. And it was characteristic of the man, that Pope&rsquo;s worn and
+      thoughtful countenance looked down from the central place of honour.
+      Appropriately enough, this room led into the library, the largest room in
+      the house, the only one indeed that was noticeable from its size, as well
+      as its embellishments. It was nearly sixty feet in length. The bookcases
+      were crowned with bronze busts, while at intervals statues, placed in open
+      arches, backed with mirrors, gave the appearance of galleries, opening
+      from the book-lined walls, and introduced an inconceivable air of classic
+      lightness and repose into the apartment; with these arches the windows
+      harmonised so well, opening on the peristyle, and bringing into delightful
+      view the sculpture, the flowers, the terraces, and the lake without, that
+      the actual prospects half seduced you into the belief that they were
+      designs by some master-hand of the poetical gardens that yet crown the
+      hills of Rome. Even the colouring of the prospects on a sunny day favoured
+      the delusion, owing to the deep, rich hues of the simple draperies, and
+      the stained glass of which the upper panes of the windows were composed.
+      Cleveland was especially fond of sculpture; he was sensible, too, of the
+      mighty impulse which that art has received in Europe within the last half
+      century. He was even capable of asserting the doctrine, not yet
+      sufficiently acknowledged in this country, that Flaxman surpassed Canova.
+      He loved sculpture, too, not only for its own beauty, but for the
+      beautifying and intellectual effect that it produces wherever it is
+      admitted. It is a great mistake, he was wont to say, in collectors of
+      statues, to arrange them <i>pele mele</i> in one long monotonous gallery.
+      The single relief, or statue, or bust, or simple urn, introduced
+      appropriately in the smallest apartment we inhabit, charms us infinitely
+      more than those gigantic museums, crowded into rooms never entered but for
+      show, and without a chill, uncomfortable shiver. Besides, this practice of
+      galleries, which the herd consider orthodox, places sculpture out of the
+      patronage of the public. There are not a dozen people who can afford
+      galleries. But very moderately affluent gentlemen can afford a statue or a
+      bust. The influence, too, upon a man&rsquo;s mind and taste, created by the
+      constant and habitual view of monuments of the only imperishable art which
+      resorts to physical materials, is unspeakable. Looking upon the Greek
+      marble, we become acquainted, almost insensibly, with the character of the
+      Greek life and literature. That Aristides, that Genius of Death, that
+      fragment of the unrivalled Psyche, are worth a thousand Scaligers!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you ever look at the Latin translation when you read Aeschylus?&rdquo; said
+      a schoolboy once to Cleveland.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is my Latin translation,&rdquo; said Cleveland, pointing to the Laocoon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The library opened at the extreme end to a small cabinet for curiosities
+      and medals, which, still in a straight line, conducted to a long
+      belvidere, terminating in a little circular summer-house, that, by a
+      sudden wind of the lake below, hung perpendicularly over its transparent
+      tide, and, seen from the distance, appeared almost suspended on air, so
+      light were its slender columns and arching dome. Another door from the
+      library opened upon a corridor which conducted to the principal
+      sleeping-chambers; the nearest door was that of Cleveland&rsquo;s private study
+      communicating with his bedroom and dressing-closet. The other rooms were
+      appropriated to, and named after, his several friends.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Cleveland had been advised by a hasty line of the movements of his
+      ward, and he received the young man with a smile of welcome, though his
+      eyes were moist and his lips trembled&mdash;for the boy was like his
+      father!&mdash;a new generation had commenced for Cleveland!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Welcome, my dear Ernest,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;I am so glad to see you, that I will
+      not scold you for your mysterious absence. This is your room, you see your
+      name over the door; it is a larger one than you used to have, for you are
+      a man now; and there is your German sanctum adjoining&mdash;for Schiller
+      and the meerschaum!&mdash;a bad habit that, the meerschaum! but not worse
+      than the Schiller, perhaps. You see you are in the peristyle immediately.
+      The meerschaum is good for flowers, I fancy, so have no scruple. Why, my
+      dear boy, how pale you are! Be cheered&mdash;be cheered. Well, I must go
+      myself, or you will infect me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cleveland hurried away; he thought of his lost friend. Ernest sank upon
+      the first chair, and buried his face in his hands. Cleveland&rsquo;s valet
+      entered, and bustled about and unpacked the portmanteau, and arranged the
+      evening dress. But Ernest did not look up nor speak; the first bell
+      sounded; the second tolled unheard upon his ear. He was thoroughly
+      overcome by his emotions. The first notes of Cleveland&rsquo;s kind voice had
+      touched upon a soft chord, that months of anxiety and excitement had
+      strained to anguish, but had never woke to tears. His nerves were
+      shattered&mdash;those strong young nerves! He thought of his dead father
+      when he first saw Cleveland; but when he glanced round the room prepared
+      for him, and observed the care for his comfort, and the tender
+      recollection of his most trifling peculiarities everywhere visible, Alice,
+      the watchful, the humble, the loving, the lost Alice rose before him.
+      Surprised at his ward&rsquo;s delay, Cleveland entered the room; there sat
+      Ernest still, his face buried in his hands. Cleveland drew them gently
+      away, and Maltravers sobbed like an infant. It was an easy matter to bring
+      tears to the eyes of that young man: a generous or a tender thought, an
+      old song, the simplest air of music, sufficed for that touch of the
+      mother&rsquo;s nature. But the vehement and awful passion which belongs to
+      manhood when thoroughly unmanned&mdash;this was the first time in which
+      the relief of that stormy bitterness was known to him!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIV.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Musing full sadly in his sullen mind.&rdquo;&mdash;SPENSER.
+
+ &ldquo;There forth issued from under the altar-smoke
+  A dreadful fiend.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Ibid. on Superstition</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      NINE times out of ten it is over the Bridge of Sighs that we pass the
+      narrow gulf from Youth to Manhood. That interval is usually occupied by an
+      ill-placed or disappointed affection. We recover, and we find ourselves a
+      new being. The intellect has been hardened by the fire through which it
+      has passed. The mind profits by the wrecks of every passion, and we may
+      measure our road to wisdom by the sorrows we have undergone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Maltravers was yet on the bridge, and, for a time, both mind and body
+      were prostrate and enfeebled. Cleveland had the sagacity to discover that
+      the affections had their share in the change that he grieved to witness,
+      but he had also the delicacy not to force himself into the young man&rsquo;s
+      confidence. But by little and little his kindness so completely penetrated
+      the heart of his ward, that Ernest one evening told his whole tale. As a
+      man of the world, Cleveland perhaps rejoiced that it was no worse, for he
+      had feared some existing entanglement perhaps with a married woman. But as
+      a man who was better than the world in general, he sympathised with the
+      unfortunate girl whom Ernest pictured to him in faithful and unflattered
+      colours, and he long forbore consolations which he foresaw would be
+      unavailing. He felt, indeed, that Ernest was not a man &ldquo;to betray the noon
+      of manhood to a myrtle-shade:&rdquo;&mdash;that with so sanguine, buoyant, and
+      hardy a temperament, he would at length recover from a depression which,
+      if it could bequeath a warning, might as well not be wholly divested of
+      remorse. And he also knew that few become either great authors or great
+      men (and he fancied Ernest was born to be one or the other) without the
+      fierce emotions and passionate struggles, through which the Wilhelm
+      Meister of real life must work out his apprenticeship, and attain the
+      Master Rank. But at last he had serious misgivings about the health of his
+      ward. A constant and spectral gloom seemed bearing the young man to the
+      grave. It was in vain that Cleveland, who secretly desired him to thirst
+      for a public career, endeavoured to arouse his ambition&mdash;the boy&rsquo;s
+      spirit seemed quite broken&mdash;and the visit of a political character,
+      the mention of a political work, drove him at once into his solitary
+      chamber. At length his mental disease took a new turn. He became, of a
+      sudden, most morbidly and fanatically&mdash;I was about to say religious:
+      but that is not the word; let me call it pseudo-religious. His strong
+      sense and cultivated taste did not allow him to delight in the raving
+      tracts of illiterate fanatics&mdash;and yet out of the benign and simple
+      elements of the Scripture he conjured up for himself a fanaticism quite as
+      gloomy and intense. He lost sight of God the Father, and night and day
+      dreamed only of God the Avenger. His vivid imagination was perverted to
+      raise out of its own abyss phantoms of colossal terror. He shuddered
+      aghast at his own creations, and earth and heaven alike seemed black with
+      the everlasting wrath. These symptoms completely baffled and perplexed
+      Cleveland. He knew not what remedy to administer&mdash;and to his
+      unspeakable grief and surprise he found that Ernest, in the true spirit of
+      his strange bigotry, began to regard Cleveland&mdash;the amiable, the
+      benevolent Cleveland&mdash;as one no less out of the pale of grace than
+      himself. His elegant pursuits, his cheerful studies, were considered by
+      the young but stern enthusiast as the miserable recreations of Mammon and
+      the world. There seemed every probability that Ernest Maltravers would die
+      in a madhouse or, at best, succeed to the delusions without the cheerful
+      intervals of Cowper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XV.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit,
+  Restless&mdash;unfixed in principles and place.&rdquo;&mdash;DRYDEN.
+
+ &ldquo;Whoever acquires a very great number of ideas interesting to
+  the society in which he lives, will be regarded in that society
+  as a man of abilities.&rdquo;&mdash;HELVETIUS.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      IT was just when Ernest Maltravers was so bad that he could not be worse
+      that a young man visited Temple Grove. The name of this young man was
+      Lumley Ferrers, his age was about twenty-six, his fortune about eight
+      hundred a year&mdash;he followed no profession. Lumley Ferrers had not
+      what is usually called genius; that is, he had no enthusiasm; and if the
+      word talent be properly interpreted as meaning the talent of doing
+      something better than others, Ferrers had not much to boast of on that
+      score. He had no talent for writing, nor for music, nor painting, nor the
+      ordinary round of accomplishments; neither at present had he displayed
+      much of the hard and useful talent for action and business. But Ferrers
+      had what is often better than either genius or talent; he had a powerful
+      and most acute mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had, moreover, great animation of manner, high physical spirits, a
+      witty, odd, racy vein of conversation, determined assurance, and profound
+      confidence in his own resources. He was fond of schemes, stratagems, and
+      plots&mdash;they amused and excited him&mdash;his power of sarcasm, and of
+      argument, too, was great, and he usually obtained an astonishing influence
+      over those with whom he was brought in contact. His high spirits and a
+      most happy frankness of bearing carried off and disguised his leading
+      vices of character, which were callousness to whatever was affectionate
+      and insensibility to whatever was moral. Though less learned than
+      Maltravers, he was on the whole a very instructed man. He mastered the
+      surfaces of many sciences, became satisfied of their general principles,
+      and threw the study aside never to be forgotten (for his memory was like a
+      vice), but never to be prosecuted any further. To this he added a general
+      acquaintance with whatever is most generally acknowledged as standard in
+      ancient or modern literature. What is admired only by a few, Lumley never
+      took the trouble to read. Living amongst trifles, he made them interesting
+      and novel by his mode of viewing and treating them. And here indeed was <i>a</i>
+      talent&mdash;it was the talent of social life&mdash;the talent of
+      enjoyment to the utmost with the least degree of trouble to himself.
+      Lumley Ferrers was thus exactly one of those men whom everybody calls
+      exceedingly clever, and yet it would puzzle one to say in what he was so
+      clever. It was, indeed, that nameless power which belongs to ability, and
+      which makes one man superior, on the whole, to another, though in many
+      details by no means remarkable. I think it is Goethe who says somewhere
+      that, in reading the life of the greatest genius, we always find that he
+      was acquainted with some men superior to himself, who yet never attained
+      to general distinction. To the class of these mystical superior men Lumley
+      Ferrers might have belonged; for though an ordinary journalist would have
+      beaten him in the arts of composition, few men of genius, however eminent,
+      could have felt themselves above Ferrers in the ready grasp and plastic
+      vigour of natural intellect. It only remains to be said of this singular
+      young man, whose character as yet was but half developed, that he had seen
+      a great deal of the world, and could live at ease and in content with all
+      tempers and ranks; fox-hunters or scholars, lawyers or poets, patricians
+      or <i>parvenus</i>, it was all one to Lumley Ferrers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ernest was, as usual, in his own room, when he heard, along the corridor
+      without, all that indefinable bustling noise which announces an arrival.
+      Next came a most ringing laugh, and then a sharp, clear, vigorous voice,
+      that ran through his ears like a dagger. Ernest was immediately aroused to
+      all the majesty of indignant sullenness. He walked out on the terrace of
+      the portico, to avoid the repetition of the disturbance: and once more
+      settled back into his broken and hypochondriacal reveries. Pacing to and
+      fro that part of the peristyle which occupied the more retired wing of the
+      house, with his arms folded, his eyes downcast, his brows knit, and all
+      the angel darkened on that countenance which formerly looked as if, like
+      truth, it could shame the devil and defy the world, Ernest followed the
+      evil thought that mastered him, through the Valley of the Shadow. Suddenly
+      he was aware of something&mdash;some obstacle which he had not previously
+      encountered. He started, and saw before him a young man, of plain dress,
+      gentlemanlike appearance, and striking countenance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Maltravers, I think,&rdquo; said the stranger, and Ernest recognised the
+      voice that had so disturbed him: &ldquo;this is lucky; we can now introduce
+      ourselves, for I find Cleveland means us to be intimate. Mr. Lumley
+      Ferrers, Mr. Ernest Maltravers. There now, I am the elder, so I first
+      offer my hand, and grin properly. People always grin when they make a new
+      acquaintance! Well, that&rsquo;s settled. Which way are you walking?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers could, when he chose it, be as stately as if he had never been
+      out of England. He now drew himself up in displeased astonishment;
+      extricated his hand from the gripe of Ferrers, and saying, very coldly,
+      &ldquo;Excuse me, sir, I am busy,&rdquo; stalked back to his chamber. He threw himself
+      into his chair, and was presently forgetful of his late annoyance, when,
+      to his inexpressible amazement and wrath, he heard again the sharp, clear
+      voice close at his elbow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ferrers had followed him through the French casement into the room. &ldquo;You
+      are busy, you say, my dear fellow. I want to write some letters: we
+      sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t interrupt each other&mdash;don&rsquo;t disturb yourself:&rdquo; and Ferrers
+      seated himself at the writing-table, dipped a pen into the ink, arranged
+      blotting-book and paper before him in due order, and was soon employed in
+      covering page after page with the most rapid and hieroglyphical scrawl
+      that ever engrossed a mistress or perplexed a dun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The presuming puppy!&rdquo; growled Maltravers, half audibly, but effectually
+      roused from himself; and examining with some curiosity so cool an
+      intruder, he was forced to own that the countenance of Ferrers was not
+      that of a puppy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A forehead compact and solid as a block of granite, overhung small,
+      bright, intelligent eyes of a light hazel; the features were handsome, yet
+      rather too sharp and fox-like; the complexion, though not highly coloured,
+      was of that hardy, healthy hue which generally betokens a robust
+      constitution, and high animal spirits; the jaw was massive, and, to a
+      physiognomist, betokened firmness and strength of character; but the lips,
+      full and large, were those of a sensualist, and their restless play, an
+      habitual half smile, spoke of gaiety and humour, though when in repose
+      there was in them something furtive and sinister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers looked at him in grave silence; but when Ferrers, concluding
+      his fourth letter before another man would have got through his first
+      page, threw down the pen, and looked full at Maltravers, with a
+      good-humoured but penetrating stare, there was something so whimsical in
+      the intruder&rsquo;s expression of face, and indeed in the whole scene, that
+      Maltravers bit his lip to restrain a smile, the first he had known for
+      weeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see you read, Maltravers,&rdquo; said Ferrers, carelessly turning over the
+      volumes on the table. &ldquo;All very right: we should begin life with books;
+      they multiply the sources of employment; so does capital;&mdash;but
+      capital is of no use, unless we live on the interest,&mdash;books are
+      waste paper, unless we spend in action the wisdom we get from thought.
+      Action, Maltravers, action; that is the life for us. At our age we have
+      passion, fancy, sentiment; we can&rsquo;t read them away, or scribble them away;&mdash;we
+      must live upon them generously, but economically.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers was struck; the intruder was not the empty bore he had chosen
+      to fancy him. He roused himself languidly to reply. &ldquo;Life, <i>Mr.</i>
+      Ferrers&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop, <i>mon cher</i>, stop; don&rsquo;t call me Mister; we are to be friends;
+      I hate delaying that which <i>must be</i>, even by a superfluous
+      dissyllable; you are Maltravers, I am Ferrers. But you were going to talk
+      about life. Suppose we <i>live</i> a little while, instead of talking
+      about it? It wants an hour to dinner; let us stroll into the grounds; I
+      want to get an appetite;&mdash;besides, I like nature when there are no
+      Swiss mountains to climb before one can arrive at a prospect. <i>Allons</i>!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse&mdash;&rdquo; again began Maltravers, half interested, half annoyed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll be shot if I do. Come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ferrers gave Maltravers his hat, wound his arm into that of his new
+      acquaintance, and they were on the broad terrace by the lake before Ernest
+      was aware of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How animated, how eccentric, how easy was Ferrers&rsquo; talk (for talk it was,
+      rather than conversation, since he had the ball to himself); books, and
+      men, and things; he tossed them about and played with them like
+      shuttlecocks; and then his egotistical narrative of half a hundred
+      adventures, in which he had been the hero, told so, that you laughed at
+      him and laughed with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVI.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Now the bright morning star, day&rsquo;s harbinger,
+  Comes dancing from the east.&rdquo;&mdash;MILTON.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      HITHERTO Ernest had never met with any mind that had exercised a strong
+      influence over his own. At home, at school, at Gottingen, everywhere, he
+      had been the brilliant and wayward leader of others, persuading or
+      commanding wiser and older heads than his own: even Cleveland always
+      yielded to him, though not aware of it. In fact, it seldom happens that we
+      are very strongly influenced by those much older than ourselves. It is the
+      senior, of from two to ten years, that most seduces and enthrals us. He
+      has the same pursuits&mdash;views, objects, pleasures, but more art and
+      experience in them all. He goes with us in the path we are ordained to
+      tread, but from which the elder generation desires to warn us off. There
+      is very little influence where there is not great sympathy. It was now an
+      epoch in the intellectual life of Maltravers. He met for the first time
+      with a mind that controlled his own. Perhaps the physical state of his
+      nerves made him less able to cope with the half-bullying, but thoroughly
+      good-humoured imperiousness of Ferrers. Every day this stranger became
+      more and more potential with Maltravers. Ferrers, who was an utter
+      egotist, never asked his new friend to give him his confidence; he never
+      cared three straws about other people&rsquo;s secrets, unless useful to some
+      purpose of his own. But he talked with so much zest about himself&mdash;about
+      women and pleasure, and the gay, stirring life of cities&mdash;that the
+      young spirit of Maltravers was roused from its dark lethargy without an
+      effort of its own. The gloomy phantoms vanished gradually&mdash;his sense
+      broke from its cloud&mdash;he felt once more that God had given the sun to
+      light the day, and even in the midst of darkness had called up the host of
+      stars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps no other person could have succeeded so speedily in curing
+      Maltravers of his diseased enthusiasm: a crude or sarcastic unbeliever he
+      would not have listened to; a moderate and enlightened divine he would
+      have disregarded, as a worldly and cunning adjuster of laws celestial with
+      customs earthly. But Lumley Ferrers, who, when he argued, never admitted a
+      sentiment or a simile in reply, who wielded his plain iron logic like a
+      hammer, which, though its metal seemed dull, kindled the ethereal spark
+      with every stroke&mdash;Lumley Ferrers was just the man to resist the
+      imagination, and convince the reason, of Maltravers; and the moment the
+      matter came to argument, the cure was soon completed: for, however we may
+      darken and puzzle ourselves with fancies and visions, and the ingenuities
+      of fanatical mysticism, no man can mathematically or syllogistically
+      contend that the world which a God made, and a Saviour visited, was
+      designed to be damned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Ernest Maltravers one night softly stole to his room and opened the
+      New Testament, and read its heavenly moralities with purged eyes; and when
+      he had done, he fell upon his knees, and prayed the Almighty to pardon the
+      ungrateful heart that, worse than the Atheist&rsquo;s, had confessed His
+      existence, but denied His goodness. His sleep was sweet and his dreams
+      were cheerful. Did he rise to find that the penitence which had shaken his
+      reason would henceforth suffice to save his life from all error? Alas!
+      remorse overstrained has too often reactions as dangerous; and homely
+      Luther says well, that &ldquo;the mind, like the drunken peasant on horseback,
+      when propped on the one side, nods and falls on the other.&rdquo;&mdash;All that
+      can be said is, that there are certain crises in life which leave us long
+      weaker; from which the system recovers with frequent revulsion and weary
+      relapse,&mdash;but from which, looking back, after years have passed on,
+      we date the foundation of strength or the cure of disease. It is not to
+      mean souls that creation is darkened by a fear of the anger of Heaven.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XVII.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;There are times when we are diverted out of errors, but could
+  not be preached out of them.&mdash;There are practitioners who can cure
+  us of one disorder, though, in ordinary cases, they be but poor
+  physicians&mdash;nay, dangerous quacks."-STEPHEN MONTAGUE.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      LUMLEY FERRERS had one rule in life; and it was this: to make all things
+      and all persons subservient to himself. And Ferrers now intended to go
+      abroad for some years. He wanted a companion, for he disliked solitude:
+      besides, a companion shared the expenses; and a man of eight hundred a
+      year, who desires all the luxuries of life, does not despise a partner in
+      the taxes to be paid for them. Ferrers, at this period, rather liked
+      Ernest than not: it was convenient to choose friends from those richer
+      than himself, and he resolved, when he first came to Temple Grove, that
+      Ernest should be his travelling companion. This resolution formed, it was
+      very easy to execute it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers was now warmly attached to his new friend, and eager for
+      change. Cleveland was sorry to part with him; but he dreaded a relapse, if
+      the young man were again left upon his hands. Accordingly, the guardian&rsquo;s
+      consent was obtained; a travelling carriage was bought, and fitted up with
+      every imaginable imperial and <i>malle</i>. A Swiss (half valet and half
+      courier) was engaged, one thousand a year was allowed to Maltravers;&mdash;and
+      one soft and lovely morning, towards the close of October, Ferrers and
+      Maltravers found themselves midway on the road to Dover.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How glad I am to get out of England,&rdquo; said Ferrers: &ldquo;it is a famous
+      country for the rich; but here, eight hundred a year, without a
+      profession, save that of pleasure, goes upon pepper and salt; it is a
+      luxurious competence abroad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I have heard Cleveland say that you will be rich some day or
+      other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O yes: I have what are called expectations! You must know that I have a
+      kind of settlement on two stools, the Well-born and the Wealthy; but
+      between two stools&mdash;you recollect the proverb! The present Lord
+      Saxingham, once plain Frank Lascelles, and my father, Mr. Ferrers, were
+      first cousins. Two or three relations good-naturedly died, and Frank
+      Lascelles became an earl; the lands did not go with the coronet; he was
+      poor, and married an heiress. The lady died; her estate was settled on her
+      only child, the handsomest little girl you ever saw. Pretty Florence, I
+      often wish I could look up to you! Her fortune will be nearly all at her
+      own disposal, too, when she comes of age; now she is in the nursery,
+      &lsquo;eating bread and honey.&rsquo; My father, less lucky and less wise than his
+      cousin, thought fit to marry a Miss Templeton&mdash;a nobody. The
+      Saxingham branch of the family politely dropped the acquaintance. Now, my
+      mother had a brother, a clever, plodding fellow, in what is called
+      &lsquo;business:&rsquo; he became richer and richer: but my father and mother died,
+      and were never the better for it. And I came of age, and <i>worth</i> (I
+      like that expression) not a farthing more or less than this often-quoted
+      eight hundred pounds a year. My rich uncle is married, but has no
+      children. I am, therefore, heir-presumptive,&mdash;but he is a saint, and
+      close, though ostentatious. The quarrel between Uncle Templeton and the
+      Saxinghams still continues. Templeton is angry if I see the Saxinghams and
+      the Saxinghams&mdash;my Lord, at least&mdash;is by no means so sure that I
+      shall be Templeton&rsquo;s heir as not to feel a doubt lest I should some day or
+      other sponge upon his lordship for a place. Lord Saxingham is in the
+      administration, you know. Somehow or other I have an equivocal amphibious
+      kind of place in London society, which I don&rsquo;t like; on one side I am a
+      patrician connection, whom the <i>parvenu</i> branches always incline
+      lovingly to&mdash;and on the other side I am a half-dependent cadet, whom
+      the noble relations look civilly shy at. Some day, when I grow tired of
+      travel and idleness, I shall come back and wrestle with these little
+      difficulties, conciliate my methodistical uncle, and grapple with my noble
+      cousin. But now I am fit for something better than getting on in the
+      world. Dry chips, not green wood, are the things for making a blaze! How
+      slow this fellow drives! Hollo, you sir! get on! mind, twelve miles to the
+      hour! You shall have sixpence a mile. Give me your purse, Maltravers; I
+      may as well be cashier, being the elder and the wiser man; we can settle
+      accounts at the end of the journey. By Jove, what a pretty girl!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      BOOK II.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;He, of wide-blooming youth&rsquo;s fair flower possest,
+  Owns the vain thoughts&mdash;the heart that cannot rest!&rdquo;
+    SIMONIDES, <i>in Tit. Hum</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Il y eut certainement quelque chose de singulier dans mes
+  sentimens pour cette charmante femme.&rdquo; *&mdash;ROUSSEAU.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      * There certainly was something singular in my sentiments for this
+      charming woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      IT was a brilliant ball at the Palazzo of the Austrian embassy at Naples:
+      and a crowd of those loungers, whether young or old, who attach themselves
+      to the reigning beauty, was gathered round Madame de Ventadour. Generally
+      speaking, there is more caprice than taste in the election of a beauty to
+      the Italian throne. Nothing disappoints a stranger more than to see for
+      the first time the woman to whom the world has given the golden apple. Yet
+      he usually falls at last into the popular idolatry, and passes with
+      inconceivable rapidity from indignant scepticism into superstitious
+      veneration. In fact, a thousand things beside mere symmetry of feature go
+      to make up the Cytherea of the hour.&mdash;tact in society&mdash;the charm
+      of manner&mdash;nameless and piquant brilliancy. Where the world find the
+      Graces they proclaim the Venus. Few persons attain pre-eminent celebrity
+      for anything, without some adventitious and extraneous circumstances which
+      have nothing to do with the thing celebrated. Some qualities or some
+      circumstances throw a mysterious or personal charm about them. &ldquo;Is Mr.
+      So-and-So really such a genius?&rdquo; &ldquo;Is Mrs. Such-a-One really such a
+      beauty?&rdquo; you ask incredulously. &ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; is the answer. &ldquo;Do you know all
+      about him or her? Such a thing is said, or such a thing has happened.&rdquo; The
+      idol is interesting in itself, and therefore its leading and popular
+      attribute is worshipped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now Madame de Ventadour was at this time the beauty of Naples: and though
+      fifty women in the room were handsomer, no one would have dared to say so.
+      Even the women confessed her pre-eminence&mdash;for she was the most
+      perfect dresser that even France could exhibit. And to no pretensions do
+      ladies ever concede with so little demur, as those which depend upon that
+      feminine art which all study, and in which few excel. Women never allow
+      beauty in a face that has an odd-looking bonnet above it, nor will they
+      readily allow any one to be ugly whose caps are unexceptionable. Madame de
+      Ventadour had also the magic that results from intuitive high breeding,
+      polished by habit to the utmost. She looked and moved the <i>grande dame</i>,
+      as if Nature had been employed by Rank to make her so. She was descended
+      from one of the most illustrious houses of France; had married at sixteen
+      a man of equal birth, but old, dull, and pompous&mdash;a caricature rather
+      than a portrait of that great French <i>noblesse</i>, now almost if not
+      wholly extinct. But her virtue was without a blemish&mdash;some said from
+      pride, some said from coldness. Her wit was keen and court-like&mdash;lively,
+      yet subdued; for her French high breeding was very different from the
+      lethargic and taciturn imperturbability of the English. All silent people
+      can seem conventionally elegant. A groom married a rich lady; he dreaded
+      the ridicule of the guests whom his new rank assembled at his table&mdash;an
+      Oxford clergyman gave him this piece of advice, &ldquo;Wear a black coat and
+      hold your tongue!&rdquo; The groom took the hint, and is always considered one
+      of the most gentlemanlike fellows in the county. Conversation is the
+      touchstone of the true delicacy and subtle grace which make the ideal of
+      the moral mannerism of a court. And there sat Madame de Ventadour, a
+      little apart from the dancers, with the silent English dandy Lord Taunton,
+      exquisitely dressed and superbly tall, bolt upright behind her chair; and
+      the sentimental German Baron von Schomberg, covered with orders, whiskered
+      and wigged to the last hair of perfection, sighing at her left hand; and
+      the French minister, shrewd, bland, and eloquent, in the chair at her
+      right; and round on all sides pressed, and bowed, and complimented, a
+      crowd of diplomatic secretaries and Italian princes, whose bank is at the
+      gaming-table, whose estates are in their galleries, and who sell a
+      picture, as English gentlemen cut down a wood, whenever the cards grow
+      gloomy. The charming De Ventadour! she had attraction for them all! smiles
+      for the silent, badinage for the gay, politics for the Frenchman, poetry
+      for the German, the eloquence of loveliness for all! She was looking her
+      best&mdash;the slightest possible tinge of rouge gave a glow to her
+      transparent complexion, and lighted up those large dark sparkling eyes
+      (with a latent softness beneath the sparkle) seldom seen but in the French&mdash;and
+      widely distinct from the unintellectual languish of the Spaniard, or the
+      full and majestic fierceness of the Italian gaze. Her dress of black
+      velvet, and graceful hat with its princely plume, contrasted the alabaster
+      whiteness of her arms and neck. And what with the eyes, the skin, the rich
+      colouring of the complexion, the rosy lips and the small ivory teeth, no
+      one would have had the cold hypercriticism to observe that the chin was
+      too pointed, the mouth too wide, and the nose, so beautiful in the front
+      face, was far from perfect in the profile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray was Madame in the Strada Nuova to-day?&rdquo; asked the German, with as
+      much sweetness in his voice as if he had been vowing eternal love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What else have we to do with our mornings, we women?&rdquo; replied Madame de
+      Ventadour. &ldquo;Our life is a lounge from the cradle to the grave; and our
+      afternoons are but the type of our career. A promenade and a crowd,&mdash;<i>voila
+      tout</i>! We never see the world except in an open carriage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the pleasantest way of seeing it,&rdquo; said the Frenchman, drily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I doubt it; the worst fatigue is that which comes without exercise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you do me the honour to waltz?&rdquo; said the tall English lord, who had
+      a vague idea that Madame de Ventadour meant she would rather dance than
+      sit still. The Frenchman smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lord Taunton enforces your own philosophy,&rdquo; said the minister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Taunton smiled because every one else smiled; and, besides, he had
+      beautiful teeth: but he looked anxious for an answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not to-night,&mdash;I seldom dance. Who is that very pretty woman? What
+      lovely complexions the English have! And who,&rdquo; continued Madame de
+      Ventadour, without waiting for an answer to the first question, &ldquo;who is
+      that gentleman,&mdash;the young one I mean,&mdash;leaning against the
+      door?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, with the dark moustache?&rdquo; said Lord Taunton. &ldquo;He is a cousin of
+      mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no; not Colonel Bellfield; I know him&mdash;how amusing he is!&mdash;no;
+      the gentleman I mean wears no moustache.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, the tall Englishman with the bright eyes and high forehead,&rdquo; said the
+      French minister. &ldquo;He is just arrived&mdash;from the East, I believe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a striking countenance,&rdquo; said Madame de Ventadour; &ldquo;there is
+      something chivalrous in the turn of the head. Without doubt, Lord Taunton,
+      he is &lsquo;<i>noble</i>&rsquo;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is what you call &lsquo;<i>noble</i>,&rsquo;&rdquo; replied Lord Taunton&mdash;&ldquo;that is,
+      what we call a &lsquo;gentleman;&rsquo; his name is Maltravers. He lately came of age;
+      and has, I believe, rather a good property.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur Maltravers; only Monsieur?&rdquo; repeated Madame de Ventadour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; said the French minister, &ldquo;you understand that the English <i>gentilhomme</i>
+      does not require a De or a title to distinguish him from the <i>roturier</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that; but he has an air above a simple <i>gentilhomme</i>. There
+      is something <i>great</i> in his look; but it is not, I must own, the
+      conventional greatness of rank: perhaps he would have looked the same had
+      he been born a peasant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t think him handsome?&rdquo; said Lord Taunton, almost angrily (for he
+      was one of the Beauty-men, and Beauty-men are sometimes jealous).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Handsome! I did not say that,&rdquo; replied Madame de Ventadour, smiling; &ldquo;it
+      is rather a fine head than a handsome face. Is he clever, I wonder?&mdash;but
+      all you English, milord, are well educated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, profound&mdash;profound: we are profound, not superficial,&rdquo; replied
+      Lord Taunton, drawing down his wrist-bands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will Madame de Ventadour allow me to present to her one of my
+      countrymen?&rdquo; said the English minister approaching&mdash;&ldquo;Mr. Maltravers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame de Ventadour half smiled and half blushed, as she looked up, and
+      saw bent admiringly upon her the proud and earnest countenance she had
+      remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The introduction made&mdash;a few monosyllables exchanged. The French
+      diplomatist rose and walked away with the English one. Maltravers
+      succeeded to the vacant chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you been long abroad?&rdquo; asked Madame de Ventadour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only four years; yet long enough to ask whether I should not be most
+      abroad in England.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been in the East&mdash;I envy you. And Greece, and Egypt,&mdash;all
+      the associations! You have travelled back into the Past; you have escaped,
+      as Madame D&rsquo;Epinay wished, out of civilisation and into romance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet Madame D&rsquo;Epinay passed her own life in making pretty romances out of
+      a very agreeable civilisation,&rdquo; said Maltravers, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know her Memoirs, then,&rdquo; said Madame de Ventadour, slightly
+      colouring. &ldquo;In the current of a more exciting literature few have had time
+      for the second-rate writings of a past century.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are not those second-rate performances often the most charming,&rdquo; said
+      Maltravers, &ldquo;when the mediocrity of the intellect seems almost as if it
+      were the effect of a touching, though too feeble, delicacy of sentiment?
+      Madame D&rsquo;Epinay&rsquo;s Memoirs are of this character. She was not a virtuous
+      woman&mdash;but she felt virtue and loved it; she was not a woman of
+      genius&mdash;but she was tremblingly alive to all the influences of
+      genius. Some people seem born with the temperament and the tastes of
+      genius without its creative power; they have its nervous system, but
+      something is wanting in the intellectual. They feel acutely, yet express
+      tamely. These persons always have in their character an unspeakable kind
+      of pathos&mdash;a court civilisation produces many of them&mdash;and the
+      French memoirs of the last century are particularly fraught with such
+      examples. This is interesting&mdash;the struggle of sensitive minds
+      against the lethargy of a society, dull, yet brilliant, that <i>glares</i>
+      them, as it were, to sleep. It comes home to us; for,&rdquo; added Maltravers,
+      with a slight change of voice, &ldquo;how many of us fancy we see our own image
+      in the mirror!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And where was the German baron?&mdash;flirting at the other end of the
+      room. And the English lord?&mdash;dropping monosyllables to dandies by the
+      doorway. And the minor satellites?&mdash;dancing, whispering, making love,
+      or sipping lemonade. And Madame de Ventadour was alone with the young
+      stranger in a crowd of eight hundred persons; and their lips spoke of
+      sentiment, and their eyes involuntarily applied it!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While they were thus conversing, Maltravers was suddenly startled by
+      hearing close behind him, a sharp, significant voice, saying in French,
+      &ldquo;Hein, hein! I&rsquo;ve my suspicions&mdash;I&rsquo;ve my suspicions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame de Ventadour looked round with a smile. &ldquo;It is only my husband,&rdquo;
+       said she, quietly; &ldquo;let me introduce him to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers rose and bowed to a little thin man, most elaborately dressed,
+      and with an immense pair of spectacles upon a long sharp nose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Charmed to make your acquaintance, sir!&rdquo; said Monsieur de Ventadour.
+      &ldquo;Have you been long in Naples?... Beautiful weather&mdash;won&rsquo;t last long&mdash;hein,
+      hein, I&rsquo;ve my suspicions! No news as to your parliament&mdash;be dissolved
+      soon! Bad opera in London this year!&mdash;hein, hein&mdash;I&rsquo;ve my
+      suspicions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This rapid monologue was delivered with appropriate gesture. Each new
+      sentence Mons. de Ventadour began with a sort of bow, and when it dropped
+      in the almost invariable conclusion affirmative of his shrewdness and
+      incredulity, he made a mystical sign with his forefinger by passing it
+      upward in a parallel line with his nose, which at the same time performed
+      its own part in the ceremony by three convulsive twitches, that seemed to
+      shake the bridge to its base.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers looked with mute surprise upon the connubial partner of the
+      graceful creature by his side, and Mons. de Ventadour, who had said as
+      much as he thought necessary, wound up his eloquence by expressing the
+      rapture it would give him to see Mons. Maltravers at his hotel. Then,
+      turning to his wife, he began assuring her of the lateness of the hour,
+      and the expediency of departure. Maltravers glided away, and as he
+      regained the door was seized by our old friend, Lumley Ferrers. &ldquo;Come, my
+      dear fellow,&rdquo; said the latter; &ldquo;I have been waiting for you this half
+      hour. <i>Allons</i>. But, perhaps, as I am dying to go to bed, you have
+      made up your mind to stay supper. Some people have no regard for other
+      people&rsquo;s feelings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Ferrers, I&rsquo;m at your service;&rdquo; and the young man descended the stairs
+      and passed along the Chiaja towards their hotel. As they gained the broad
+      and open space on which it stood, with the lovely sea before them,
+      sleeping in the arms of the curving shore, Maltravers, who had hitherto
+      listened in silence to the volubility of his companion, paused abruptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look at that sea, Ferrers.... What a scene!&mdash;what delicious air! How
+      soft this moonlight! Can you not fancy the old Greek adventurers, when
+      they first colonised this divine Parthenope&mdash;the darling of the ocean&mdash;gazing
+      along those waves, and pining no more for Greece?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot fancy anything of the sort,&rdquo; said Ferrers.... &ldquo;And, depend upon
+      it, the said gentlemen, at this hour of the night, unless they were on
+      some piratical excursion&mdash;for they were cursed ruffians, those old
+      Greek colonists&mdash;were fast asleep in their beds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you ever write poetry, Ferrers?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To be sure; all clever men have written poetry once in their lives&mdash;small-pox
+      and poetry&mdash;they are our two juvenile diseases.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And did you ever <i>feel</i> poetry!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Feel it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, if you put the moon into your verses, did you first feel it shining
+      into your heart?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Maltravers, if I put the moon into my verses, in all probability
+      it was to rhyme to noon. &lsquo;The night was at her noon&rsquo;&mdash;is a capital
+      ending for the first hexameter&mdash;and the moon is booked for the next
+      stage. Come in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I shall stay out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be nonsensical.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By moonlight there is no nonsense like common sense.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! we&mdash;who have climbed the Pyramids, and sailed up the Nile, and
+      seen magic at Cairo, and been nearly murdered, bagged, and Bosphorized at
+      Constantinople, is it for us, who have gone through so many adventures,
+      looked on so many scenes, and crowded into four years events that would
+      have satisfied the appetite of a cormorant in romance, if it had lived to
+      the age of a phoenix;&mdash;is it for us to be doing the pretty and
+      sighing to the moon, like a black-haired apprentice without a neckcloth on
+      board of the Margate hoy? Nonsense, I say&mdash;we have lived too much not
+      to have lived away our green sickness of sentiment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you are right, Ferrers,&rdquo; said Maltravers, smiling. &ldquo;But I can
+      still enjoy a beautiful night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, if you like flies in your soup, as the man said to his guest, when he
+      carefully replaced those entomological blackamoors in the tureen, after
+      helping himself&mdash;if you like flies in your soup, well and good&mdash;<i>buona
+      notte</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ferrers certainly was right in his theory, that when we have known real
+      adventures we grow less morbidly sentimental. Life is a sleep in which we
+      dream most at the commencement and the close&mdash;the middle part absorbs
+      us too much for dreams. But still, as Maltravers said, we can enjoy a fine
+      night, especially on the shores of Naples.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers paced musingly to and fro for some time. His heart was softened&mdash;old
+      rhymes rang in his ear&mdash;old memories passed through his brain. But
+      the sweet dark eyes of Madame de Ventadour shone forth through every
+      shadow of the past. Delicious intoxication&mdash;the draught of the
+      rose-coloured phial&mdash;which is fancy, but seems love!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Then &lsquo;gan the Palmer thus&mdash;&lsquo;Most wretched man
+  That to affections dost the bridle lend:
+  In their beginnings they are weak and wan,
+  But soon, through suffrance, growe to fearfull end;
+  While they are weak, betimes with them contend.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+    SPENSER.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      MALTRAVERS went frequently to the house of Madame de Ventadour&mdash;it
+      was open twice a week to the world, and thrice a week to friends.
+      Maltravers was soon of the latter class. Madame de Ventadour had been in
+      England in her childhood, for her parents had been <i>emigres</i>. She
+      spoke English well and fluently, and this pleased Maltravers; for though
+      the French language was sufficiently familiar to him, he was like most who
+      are more vain of the mind than the person, and proudly averse to hazarding
+      his best thoughts in the domino of a foreign language. We don&rsquo;t care how
+      faulty the accent, or how incorrect the idiom, in which we talk nothings;
+      but if we utter any of the poetry within us, we shudder at the risk of the
+      most trifling solecism.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This was especially the case with Maltravers; for, besides being now
+      somewhat ripened from his careless boyhood into a proud and fastidious
+      man, he had a natural love for the Becoming. This love was unconsciously
+      visible in trifles: it is the natural parent of Good Taste. And it was
+      indeed an inborn good taste which redeemed Ernest&rsquo;s natural carelessness
+      in those personal matters in which young men usually take a pride. An
+      habitual and soldier-like neatness, and a love of order and symmetry,
+      stood with him in the stead of elaborate attention to equipage and dress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers had not thought twice in his life whether he was handsome or
+      not; and, like most men who have a knowledge of the gentler sex, he knew
+      that beauty had little to do with engaging the love of women. The air, the
+      manner, the tone, the conversation, the something that interests, and the
+      something to be proud of&mdash;these are the attributes of the man made to
+      be loved. And the Beauty-man is, nine times out of ten, little more than
+      the oracle of his aunts, and the &ldquo;<i>Sich</i> a love!&rdquo; of the housemaids!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To return from this digression, Maltravers was glad that he could talk in
+      his own language to Madame de Ventadour; and the conversation between them
+      generally began in French, and glided away into English. Madame de
+      Ventadour was eloquent, and so was Maltravers; yet a more complete
+      contrast in their mental views and conversational peculiarities can
+      scarcely be conceived. Madame de Ventadour viewed everything as a woman of
+      the world: she was brilliant, thoughtful, and not without delicacy and
+      tenderness of sentiment; still all was cast in a worldly mould. She had
+      been formed by the influences of society, and her mind betrayed its
+      education. At once witty and melancholy (no uncommon union), she was a
+      disciple of the sad but caustic philosophy produced by <i>satiety</i>. In
+      the life she led, neither her heart nor her head was engaged; the
+      faculties of both were irritated, not satisfied or employed. She felt
+      somewhat too sensitively the hollowness of the great world, and had a low
+      opinion of human nature. In fact, she was a woman of the French memoirs&mdash;one
+      of those charming and <i>spirituelles</i> Aspasias of the boudoir, who
+      interest us by their subtlety, tact, and grace, their exquisite tone of
+      refinement, and are redeemed from the superficial and frivolous, partly by
+      a consummate knowledge of the social system in which they move, and partly
+      by a half-concealed and touching discontent of the trifles on which their
+      talents and affections are wasted. These are the women who, after a youth
+      of false pleasure, often end by an old age of false devotion. They are a
+      class peculiar to those ranks and countries in which shines and saddens
+      that gay and unhappy thing&mdash;<i>a woman without a home</i>!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now this was a specimen of life&mdash;this Valerie de Ventadour&mdash;that
+      Maltravers had never yet contemplated, and Maltravers was perhaps equally
+      new to the Frenchwoman. They were delighted with each other&rsquo;s society,
+      although it so happened that they never agreed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame de Ventadour rode on horseback, and Maltravers was one of her usual
+      companions. And oh, the beautiful landscapes through which their daily
+      excursions lay!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers was an admirable scholar. The stores of the immortal dead were
+      as familiar to him as his own language. The poetry, the philosophy, the
+      manner of thought and habits of life&mdash;of the graceful Greek and the
+      luxurious Roman&mdash;were a part of knowledge that constituted a common
+      and household portion of his own associations and peculiarities of
+      thought. He had saturated his intellect with the Pactolus of old&mdash;and
+      the grains of gold came down from the classic Tmolus with every tide. This
+      knowledge of the dead, often so useless, has an inexpressible charm when
+      it is applied to the places where the dead lived. We care nothing about
+      the ancients on Highgate Hill&mdash;but at Baiae, Pompeii, by the
+      Virgilian Hades, the ancients are society with which we thirst to be
+      familiar. To the animated and curious Frenchwoman what a cicerone was
+      Ernest Maltravers! How eagerly she listened to accounts of a life more
+      elegant than that of Paris!&mdash;of a civilisation which the world never
+      can know again! So much the better;&mdash;for it was rotten at the core,
+      though most brilliant in the complexion. Those cold names and
+      unsubstantial shadows which Madame de Ventadour had been accustomed to
+      yawn over in skeleton histories, took from the eloquence of Maltravers the
+      breath of life&mdash;they glowed and moved&mdash;they feasted and made
+      love&mdash;were wise and foolish, merry and sad, like living things. On
+      the other hand, Maltravers learned a thousand new secrets of the existing
+      and actual world from the lips of the accomplished and observant Valerie.
+      What a new step in the philosophy of life does a young man of genius make,
+      when he first compares his theories and experience with the intellect of a
+      clever woman of the world! Perhaps it does not elevate him, but how it
+      enlightens and refines!&mdash;what numberless minute yet important
+      mysteries in human character and practical wisdom does he drink
+      unconsciously from the sparkling <i>persiflage</i> of such a companion!
+      Our education is hardly ever complete without it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so you think these stately Romans were not, after all, so dissimilar
+      to ourselves?&rdquo; said Valerie, one day, as they looked over the same earth
+      and ocean along which had roved the eyes of the voluptuous but august
+      Lucullus.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the last days of their Republic, a <i>coup-d&rsquo;oeil</i> of their social
+      date might convey to us a general notion of our own. Their system, like
+      ours&mdash;a vast aristocracy heaved and agitated, but kept ambitious and
+      intellectual, by the great democratic ocean which roared below and around
+      it. An immense distinction between rich and poor&mdash;a nobility
+      sumptuous, wealthy, cultivated, yet scarcely elegant or refined; a people
+      with mighty aspirations for more perfect liberty, but always liable, in a
+      crisis, to be influenced and subdued by a deep-rooted veneration for the
+      very aristocracy against which they struggled;&mdash;a ready opening
+      through all the walls of custom and privilege, for every description of
+      talent and ambition; but so strong and universal a respect for wealth,
+      that the finest spirit grew avaricious, griping, and corrupt, almost
+      unconsciously; and the man who rose from the people did not scruple to
+      enrich himself out of the abuses he affected to lament; and the man who
+      would have died for his country could not help thrusting his hands into
+      her pockets. Cassius, the stubborn and thoughtful patriot, with his heart
+      of iron, had, you remember, an itching palm. Yet, what a blow to all the
+      hopes and dreams of a world was the overthrow of the free party after the
+      death of Caesar! What generations of freemen fell at Philippi! In England,
+      perhaps, we may have ultimately the same struggle; in France, too (perhaps
+      a larger stage, with far more inflammable actors), we already perceive the
+      same war of elements which shook Rome to her centre, which finally
+      replaced the generous Julius with the hypocritical Augustus, which
+      destroyed the colossal patricians to make way for the glittering dwarfs of
+      a court, and cheated the people out of the substance with the shadow of
+      liberty. How it may end in the modern world, who shall say? But while a
+      nation has already a fair degree of constitutional freedom, I believe no
+      struggle so perilous and awful as that between the aristocratic and the
+      democratic principle. A people against a despot&mdash;<i>that</i> contest
+      requires no prophet; but the change from an aristocratic to a democratic
+      commonwealth is indeed the wide, unbounded prospect upon which rest
+      shadows, clouds, and darkness. If it fail&mdash;for centuries is the
+      dial-hand of Time put back; if it succeed&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers paused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if it succeed?&rdquo; said Valerie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, then, man will have colonised Utopia!&rdquo; replied Maltravers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But at least, in modern Europe,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;there will be fair room
+      for the experiment. For we have not that curse of slavery which, more than
+      all else, vitiated every system of the ancients, and kept the rich and the
+      poor alternately at war; and we have a press, which is not only the
+      safety-valve of the passions of every party, but the great note-book of
+      the experiments of every hour&mdash;the homely, the invaluable ledger of
+      losses and of gains. No; the people who keep that tablet well, never can
+      be bankrupt. And the society of those old Romans; their daily passions&mdash;occupations&mdash;humours!&mdash;why,
+      the satire of Horace is the glass of our own follies! We may fancy his
+      easy pages written in the Chaussee d&rsquo;Antin, or Mayfair; but there was one
+      thing that will ever keep the ancient world dissimilar from the modern.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The ancients knew not that delicacy in the affections which characterises
+      the descendants of the Goths,&rdquo; said Maltravers, and his voice slightly
+      trembled; &ldquo;they gave up to the monopoly of the senses what ought to have
+      had an equal share in the reason and the imagination. Their love was a
+      beautiful and wanton butterfly; but not the butterfly which is the emblem
+      of the soul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Valerie sighed. She looked timidly into the face of the young philosopher,
+      but his eyes were averted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; she said, after a short pause, &ldquo;we pass our lives more happily
+      without love than with it. And in our modern social system&rdquo; (she
+      continued, thoughtfully, and with profound truth, though it is scarcely
+      the conclusion to which a woman often arrives) &ldquo;I think we have pampered
+      Love to too great a preponderance over the other excitements of life. As
+      children, we are taught to dream of it; in youth, our books, our
+      conversation, our plays, are filled with it. We are trained to consider it
+      the essential of life; and yet, the moment we come to actual experience,
+      the moment we indulge this inculcated and stimulated craving, nine times
+      out of ten we find ourselves wretched and undone. Ah, believe me, Mr.
+      Maltravers, this is not a world in which we should preach up too far the
+      philosophy of Love!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And does Madame de Ventadour speak from experience?&rdquo; asked Maltravers,
+      gazing earnestly upon the changing countenance of his companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; and I trust that I never may!&rdquo; said Valerie, with great energy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ernest&rsquo;s lip curled slightly, for his pride was touched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I could give up many dreams of the future,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;to hear Madame de
+      Ventadour revoke that sentiment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have outridden our companions, Mr. Maltravers,&rdquo; said Valerie, coldly,
+      and she reined in her horse. &ldquo;Ah, Mr. Ferrers,&rdquo; she continued, as Lumley
+      and the handsome German baron now joined her, &ldquo;you are too gallant; I see
+      you imply a delicate compliment to my horsemanship, when you wish me to
+      believe you cannot keep up with me: Mr. Maltravers is not so polite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; returned Ferrers, who rarely threw away a compliment without a
+      satisfactory return, &ldquo;Nay, you and Maltravers appeared lost among the old
+      Romans; and our friend the baron took that opportunity to tell me of all
+      the ladies who adored him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, Monsieur Ferrare, <i>que vous etes malin</i>!&rdquo; said Schomberg,
+      looking very much confused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Malin</i>! no; I spoke from no envy: <i>I</i> never was adored, thank
+      Heaven! What a bore it must be!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I congratulate you on the sympathy between yourself and Ferrers,&rdquo;
+       whispered Maltravers to Valerie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Valerie laughed; but during the rest of the excursion she remained
+      thoughtful and absent, and for some days their rides were discontinued.
+      Madame de Ventadour was not well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;O Love, forsake me not;
+  Mine were a lone dark lot
+  Bereft of thee.&rdquo;
+    HEMANS, <i>Genius singing to Love</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      I FEAR that as yet Ernest Maltravers had gained little from Experience,
+      except a few current coins of worldly wisdom (and not very valuable
+      those!) while he has lost much of that nobler wealth with which youthful
+      enthusiasm sets out on the journey of life. Experience is an open giver,
+      but a stealthy thief. There is, however, this to be said in her favour,
+      that we retain her gifts; and if ever we demand restitution in earnest,
+      &lsquo;tis ten to one but what we recover her thefts. Maltravers had lived in
+      lands where public opinion is neither strong in its influence, nor rigid
+      in its canons; and that does not make a man better. Moreover, thrown
+      headlong amidst the temptations that make the first ordeal of youth, with
+      ardent passions and intellectual superiority, he had been led by the one
+      into many errors, from the consequences of which the other had delivered
+      him; the necessity of roughing it through the world&mdash;of resisting
+      fraud to-day, and violence to-morrow,&mdash;had hardened over the surface
+      of his heart, though at bottom the springs were still fresh and living. He
+      had lost much of his chivalrous veneration for women, for he had seen them
+      less often deceived than deceiving. Again, too, the last few years had
+      been spent without any high aims or fixed pursuits. Maltravers had been
+      living on the capital of his faculties and affections in a wasteful,
+      speculating spirit. It is a bad thing for a clever and ardent man not to
+      have from the onset some paramount object of life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this considered, we can scarcely wonder that Maltravers should have
+      fallen into an involuntary system of pursuing his own amusements and
+      pursuits, without much forethought of the harm or the good they were to do
+      to others or himself. The moment we lose forethought, we lose sight of
+      duty; and though it seems like a paradox, we can seldom be careless
+      without being selfish.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In seeking the society of Madame de Ventadour, Maltravers obeyed but the
+      mechanical impulse that leads the idler towards the companionship which
+      most pleases his leisure. He was interested and excited; and Valerie&rsquo;s
+      manners, which to-day flattered, and to-morrow piqued him, enlisted his
+      vanity and pride on the side of his fancy. But although Monsieur de
+      Ventadour, a frivolous and profligate Frenchman, seemed utterly
+      indifferent as to what his wife chose to do&mdash;and in the society in
+      which Valerie lived, almost every lady had her cavalier,&mdash;yet
+      Maltravers would have started with incredulity or dismay had any one
+      accused him of a systematic design on her affections. But he was living
+      with the world, and the world affected him as it almost always does every
+      one else. Still he had, at times, in his heart, the feeling that he was
+      not fulfilling his proper destiny and duties; and when he stole from the
+      brilliant resorts of an unworthy and heartless pleasure, he was ever and
+      anon haunted by his old familiar aspirations for the Beautiful, the
+      Virtuous, and the Great. However, hell is paved with good intentions; and
+      so, in the meanwhile, Ernest Maltravers surrendered himself to the
+      delicious presence of Valerie de Ventadour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One evening, Maltravers, Ferrers, the French minister, a pretty Italian,
+      and the Princess di &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;, made the whole party collected
+      at Madame de Ventadour&rsquo;s. The conversation fell upon one of the tales of
+      scandal relative to English persons, so common on the Continent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it true, Monsieur,&rdquo; said the French minister, gravely, to Lumley,
+      &ldquo;that your countrymen are much more immoral than other people? It is very
+      strange, but in every town I enter, there is always some story in which <i>les
+      Anglais</i> are the heroes. I hear nothing of French scandal&mdash;nothing
+      of Italian&mdash;<i>toujours les Anglais</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because we are shocked at these things, and make a noise about them,
+      while you take them quietly. Vice is our episode&mdash;your epic.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose it is so,&rdquo; said the Frenchman, with affected seriousness. &ldquo;If
+      we cheat at play, or flirt with a fair lady, we do it with decorum, and
+      our neighbours think it no business of theirs. But you treat every frailty
+      you find in your countrymen as a public concern, to be discussed and
+      talked over, and exclaimed against, and told to all the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I like the system of scandal,&rdquo; said Madame de Ventadour, abruptly; &ldquo;say
+      what you will, the policy of fear keeps many of us virtuous. Sin might not
+      be odious, if we did not tremble at the consequence even of appearances.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hein, hein,&rdquo; grunted Monsieur de Ventadour, shuffling into the room. &ldquo;How
+      are you?&mdash;how are you? Charmed to see you. Dull night&mdash;I suspect
+      we shall have rain. Hein, hein. Aha, Monsieur Ferrers, <i>comment ca
+      va-t-il</i>? Will you give me my revenge at <i>ecarte</i>? I have my
+      suspicions that I am in luck to-night. Hein, hein.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Ecarte</i>!&mdash;well, with pleasure,&rdquo; said Ferrers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ferrers played well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The conversation ended in a moment. The little party gathered round the
+      table&mdash;all, except Valerie and Maltravers. The chairs that were
+      vacated left a kind of breach between them; but still they were next to
+      each other, and they felt embarrassed, for they felt alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you never play?&rdquo; asked Madame de Ventadour, after a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I <i>have</i> played,&rdquo; said Maltravers, &ldquo;and I know the temptation. I
+      dare not play now. I love the excitement, but I have been humbled at the
+      debasement: it is a moral drunkenness that is worse than the physical.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You speak warmly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I feel keenly. I once won of a man I respected, who was poor. His
+      agony was a dreadful lesson to me. I went home, and was terrified to think
+      I had felt so much pleasure in the pain of another. I have never played
+      since that night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So young and so resolute!&rdquo; said Valerie, with admiration in her voice and
+      eyes; &ldquo;you are a strange person. Others would have been cured by losing,
+      you were cured by winning. It is a fine thing to have principle at your
+      age, Mr. Maltravers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fear it was rather pride than principle,&rdquo; said Maltravers. &ldquo;Error is
+      sometimes sweet; but there is no anguish like an error of which we feel
+      ashamed. I cannot submit to blush for myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; muttered Valerie; &ldquo;this is the echo of my own heart!&rdquo; She rose and
+      went to the window. Maltravers paused a moment, and followed her. Perhaps
+      he half thought there was an invitation in the movement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There lay before them the still street, with its feeble and unfrequent
+      lights; beyond, a few stars, struggling through an atmosphere unusually
+      clouded, brought the murmuring ocean partially into sight. Valerie leaned
+      against the wall, and the draperies of the window veiled her from all the
+      guests, save Maltravers; and between her and himself was a large marble
+      vase filled with flowers; and by that uncertain light Valerie&rsquo;s brilliant
+      cheek looked pale, and soft, and thoughtful. Maltravers never before felt
+      so much in love with the beautiful Frenchwoman.
+    </p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0111}.jpg" alt="{0111}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0111}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5>
+
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, madam!&rdquo; said he, softly; &ldquo;there is one error, if it be so, that never
+      can cost me shame.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; said Valerie with an unaffected start, for she was not aware he
+      was so near her. As she spoke she began plucking (it is a common woman&rsquo;s
+      trick) the flowers from the vase between her and Ernest. That small,
+      delicate, almost transparent hand!&mdash;Maltravers gazed upon the hand,
+      then on the countenance, then on the hand again. The scene swam before
+      him, and, involuntarily and as by an irresistible impulse, the next moment
+      that hand was in his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me&mdash;pardon me,&rdquo; said he, falteringly; &ldquo;but that error is in
+      the feelings that I know for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Valerie lifted on him her large and radiant eyes, and made no answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers went on. &ldquo;Chide me, scorn me, hate me if you will. Valerie, I
+      love you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Valerie drew away her hand, and still remained silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Speak to me,&rdquo; said Ernest, leaning forward; &ldquo;one word, I implore you&mdash;speak
+      to me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused,&mdash;still no reply; he listened breathlessly&mdash;he heard
+      her sob. Yes; that proud, that wise, that lofty woman of the world, in
+      that moment, was as weak as the simplest girl that ever listened to a
+      lover. But how different the feelings that made her weak!&mdash;what soft
+      and what stern emotions were blent together!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Maltravers,&rdquo; she said, recovering her voice, though it sounded
+      hollow, yet almost unnaturally firm and clear&rdquo;&mdash;the die is cast, and
+      I have lost for ever the friend for whose happiness I cannot live, but for
+      whose welfare I would have died; I should have foreseen this, but I was
+      blind. No more&mdash;no more; see me to-morrow, and leave me now!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Valerie&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ernest Maltravers,&rdquo; said she, laying her hand lightly on his own; &ldquo;<i>there
+      is no anguish, like an error of which we feel ashamed</i>!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Before he could reply to this citation from his own aphorism, Valerie had
+      glided away; and was already seated at the card-table, by the side of the
+      Italian princess.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers also joined the group. He fixed his eyes on Madame de
+      Ventadour, but her face was calm&mdash;not a trace of emotion was
+      discernible. Her voice, her smile, her charming and courtly manner, all
+      were as when he first beheld her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These women&mdash;what hypocrites they are!&rdquo; muttered Maltravers to
+      himself; and his lip writhed into a sneer, which had of late often forced
+      away the serene and gracious expression of his earlier years, ere he knew
+      what it was to despise. But Maltravers mistook the woman he dared to
+      scorn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He soon withdrew from the palazzo, and sought his hotel. There, while yet
+      musing in his dressing-room, he was joined by Ferrers. The time had passed
+      when Ferrers had exercised an influence over Maltravers; the boy had grown
+      up to be the equal of the man, in the exercise of that two-edged sword&mdash;the
+      reason. And Maltravers now felt, unalloyed, the calm consciousness of his
+      superior genius. He could not confide to Ferrers what had passed between
+      him and Valerie. Lumley was too <i>hard</i> for a confidant in matters
+      where the heart was at all concerned. In fact, in high spirits, and in the
+      midst of frivolous adventures, Ferrers was charming. But in sadness, or in
+      the moments of deep feeling, Ferrers was one whom you would wish out of
+      the way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are sullen to-eight, <i>mon cher</i>,&rdquo; said Lumley, yawning; &ldquo;I
+      suppose you want to go to bed&mdash;some persons are so ill-bred, so
+      selfish, they never think of their friends. Nobody asks me what I won at
+      <i>ecarte</i>. Don&rsquo;t be late to-morrow&mdash;I hate breakfasting alone,
+      and I am never later than a quarter before nine&mdash;I hate egotistical,
+      ill-mannered people. Good night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With this, Ferrers sought his own room; there, as he slowly undressed, he
+      thus soliloquised: &ldquo;I think I have put this man to all the use I can make
+      of him. We don&rsquo;t pull well together any longer; perhaps I myself am a
+      little tired of this sort of life. That is not right. I shall grow
+      ambitious by and by; but I think it a bad calculation not to make the most
+      of youth. At four or five-and-thirty it will be time enough to consider
+      what one ought to be at fifty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;Most dangerous
+  Is that temptation that does goad us on
+  To sin in loving virtue.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Measure for Measure</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;SEE her to-morrow!&mdash;that morrow is come!&rdquo; 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 &ldquo;<i>he</i>
+      never kept people waiting,&rdquo; his servant entered with a packet from
+      England, that had just arrived by one of those rare couriers who sometimes
+      honour that Naples, which <i>might</i> be so lucrative a mart to English
+      commerce, if Neapolitan kings cared for trade, or English senators for
+      &ldquo;foreign politics.&rdquo; 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&rsquo;s former letters, Cleveland went
+      on thus:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;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&mdash;I tremble
+      for you. I know well that delicious, dreaming, holiday-life of Italy, so
+      sweet to men of learning and imagination&mdash;so sweet, too, to youth&mdash;so
+      sweet to pleasure! But, Ernest, do you not feel already how it enervates?&mdash;how
+      the luxurious <i>far niente</i> unfits us for grave exertion? Men may
+      become too refined and too fastidious for useful purposes; and nowhere can
+      they become so more rapidly than in Italy. My dear Ernest, I know you
+      well; you are not made to sink down into a virtuoso, with a cabinet full
+      of cameos and a head full of pictures; still less are you made to be an
+      indolent <i>cicisbeo</i> to some fair Italian, with one passion and two
+      ideas: and yet I have known men as clever as you, whom that bewitching
+      Italy has sunk into one or other of these insignificant beings. Don&rsquo;t run
+      away with the notion that you have plenty of time before you. You have no
+      such thing. At your age, and with your fortune (I wish you were not so
+      rich), the holiday of one year becomes the custom of the next. In England,
+      to be a useful or a distinguished man, you must labour. Now, labour itself
+      is sweet, if we take to it early. We are a hard race, but we are a manly
+      one; and our stage is the most exciting in Europe for an able and an
+      honest ambition. Perhaps you will tell me you are not ambitious now; very
+      possibly&mdash;but ambitious you will be; and, believe me, there is no
+      unhappier wretch than a man who is ambitious but disappointed,&mdash;who
+      has the desire for fame, but has lost the power to achieve it&mdash;who
+      longs for the goal, but will not, and cannot, put away his slippers to
+      walk to it. What I most fear for you is one of these two evils&mdash;an
+      early marriage or a fatal <i>liaison</i> with some married woman. The
+      first evil is certainly the least, but for you it would still be a great
+      one. With your sensitive romance, with your morbid cravings for the ideal,
+      domestic happiness would soon grow trite and dull. You would demand new
+      excitement, and become a restless and disgusted man. It is necessary for
+      you to get rid of all the false fever of life, before you settle down to
+      everlasting ties. You do not yet know your own mind; you would choose your
+      partner from some visionary caprice, or momentary impulse, and not from
+      the deep and accurate knowledge of those qualities which would most
+      harmonize with your own character. People, to live happily with each
+      other, must <i>fit in</i>, as it were&mdash;the proud be mated with the
+      meek, the irritable with the gentle, and so forth. No, my dear Maltravers,
+      do not think of marriage yet a while; and if there is any danger of it,
+      come over to me immediately. But if I warn you against a lawful tie, how
+      much more against an illicit one? You are precisely at the age, and of the
+      disposition, which render the temptation so strong and so deadly. With you
+      it might not be the sin of an hour, but the bondage of a life. I know your
+      chivalric honour&mdash;your tender heart; I know how faithful you would be
+      to one who had sacrificed for you. But that fidelity, Maltravers, to what
+      a life of wasted talent and energies would it not compel you! Putting
+      aside for the moment (for that needs no comment) the question of the grand
+      immorality&mdash;what so fatal to a bold and proud temper, as to be at war
+      with society at the first entrance into life? What so withering to manly
+      aims and purposes, as the giving into the keeping of a woman, who has
+      interest in your love, and interest against your career which might part
+      you at once from her side&mdash;the control of your future destinies? I
+      could say more, but I trust what I have said is superfluous; if so, pray
+      assure me of it. Depend upon this, Ernest Maltravers, that if you do not
+      fulfil what nature intended for your fate, you will be a morbid
+      misanthrope, or an indolent voluptuary&mdash;wrenched and listless in
+      manhood, repining and joyless in old age. But if you do fulfil your fate,
+      you must enter soon into your apprenticeship. Let me see you labour and
+      aspire&mdash;no matter what in&mdash;what to. Work, work&mdash;that is all
+      I ask of you!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you would see your old country-house; it has a venerable and
+      picturesque look, and during your minority they have let the ivy cover
+      three sides of it. Montaigne might have lived there.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   &ldquo;Adieu, dearest Ernest,
+     &ldquo;Your anxious and affectionate guardian,
+        &ldquo;FREDERICK CLEVELAND.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;P. S.&mdash;I am writing a book&mdash;it shall last me ten years&mdash;it
+      occupies me, but does not fatigue. Write a book yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      Maltravers had just finished this letter when Ferrers entered impatiently.
+      &ldquo;Will you ride out?&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I have sent the breakfast away; I saw that
+      breakfast was a vain hope to-day&mdash;indeed, my appetite is gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pshaw!&rdquo; said Maltravers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pshaw! Humph! for my part I like well-bred people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have had a letter from Cleveland.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what the deuce has that got to do with the chocolate?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Lumley, you are insufferable; you think of nothing but yourself, and
+      self with you means nothing that is not animal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes; I believe I have some sense,&rdquo; replied Ferrers, complacently. &ldquo;I
+      know the philosophy of life. All unfledged bipeds are animals, I suppose.
+      If Providence had made me graminivorous, I should have eaten grass; if
+      ruminating, I should have chewed the cud; but as it has made me a
+      carnivorous, culinary, and cachinnatory animal, I eat a cutlet, scold
+      about the sauce, and laugh at you; and this is what you call being
+      selfish!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was late at noon when Maltravers found himself at the palazzo of Madame
+      de Ventadour. He was surprised, but agreeably so, that he was admitted,
+      for the first time, into that private sanctum which bears the hackneyed
+      title of boudoir. But there was little enough of the fine lady&rsquo;s boudoir
+      in the simple morning-room of Madame de Ventadour. It was a lofty
+      apartment, stored with books, and furnished, not without claim to grace,
+      but with very small attention to luxury.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Valerie was not there, and Maltravers, left alone, after a hasty glance
+      around the chamber, leaned abstractedly against the wall, and forgot,
+      alas! all the admonitions of Cleveland. In a few moments the door opened,
+      and Valerie entered. She was unusually pale, and Maltravers thought her
+      eyelids betrayed the traces of tears. He was touched, and his heart smote
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have kept you waiting, I fear,&rdquo; said Valerie, motioning him to a seat
+      at a little distance from that on which she placed herself; &ldquo;but you will
+      forgive me,&rdquo; she added, with a slight smile. Then, observing he was about
+      to speak, she went on rapidly; &ldquo;Hear me, Mr. Maltravers&mdash;before you
+      speak, hear me! You uttered words last night that ought never to have been
+      addressed to me. You professed to&mdash;love me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Professed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Answer me,&rdquo; said Valerie, with abrupt energy, &ldquo;not as man to woman, but
+      as one human creature to another. From the bottom of your heart, from the
+      core of your conscience, I call on you to speak the honest and the simple
+      truth. Do you love me as your heart, your genius, must be capable of
+      loving?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I love you truly&mdash;passionately!&rdquo; said Maltravers, surprised and
+      confused, but still with enthusiasm in his musical voice and earnest eyes.
+      Valerie gazed upon him as if she sought to penetrate into his soul.
+      Maltravers went on. &ldquo;Yes, Valerie, when we first met, you aroused a long
+      dormant and delicious sentiment. But, since then, what deep emotions has
+      that sentiment called forth? Your graceful intellect&mdash;your lovely
+      thoughts, wise yet womanly&mdash;have completed the conquest your face and
+      voice began. Valerie, I love you. And you&mdash;you, Valerie&mdash;ah! I
+      do not deceive myself&mdash;you also&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Love!&rdquo; interrupted Valerie, deeply blushing, but in a calm voice. &ldquo;Ernest
+      Maltravers, I do not deny it; honestly and frankly I confess the fault. I
+      have examined my heart during the whole of the last sleepless night, and I
+      confess that I love you. Now, then, understand me&mdash;we meet no more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; said Maltravers, falling involuntarily at her feet, and seeking to
+      detain her hand, which he seized. &ldquo;What! now, when you have given life a
+      new charm, will you as suddenly blast it? No, Valerie; no, I will not
+      listen to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame de Ventadour rose and said, with a cold dignity: &ldquo;Hear me calmly,
+      or I quit the room; and all I would now say rests for ever unspoken.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers rose also, folded his arms haughtily, bit his lips, and stood
+      erect, and confronting Valerie rather in the attitude of an accuser than a
+      suppliant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madame,&rdquo; said he, gravely, &ldquo;I will offend no more; I will trust to your
+      manner, since I may not believe your words.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are cruel,&rdquo; said Valerie, smiling mournfully; &ldquo;but so are all men.
+      Now let me make myself understood. I was betrothed to Monsieur de
+      Ventadour in my childhood. I did not see him till a month before we
+      married. I had no choice. French girls have none. We were wed. I had
+      formed no other attachment. I was proud and vain: wealth, ambition, and
+      social rank for a time satisfied my faculties and my heart. At length I
+      grew restless and unhappy. I felt that something of life was wanting.
+      Monsieur de Ventadour&rsquo;s sister was the first to recommend me to the common
+      resource of our sex&mdash;at least, in France&mdash;a lover. I was shocked
+      and startled, for I belong to a family in which women are chaste and men
+      brave. I began, however, to look around me, and examine the truth of the
+      philosophy of vice. I found that no woman, who loved honestly and deeply
+      an illicit lover was happy. I found, too, the hideous profundity of
+      Rochefoucauld&rsquo;s maxim that a woman&mdash;I speak of French women&mdash;may
+      live without a lover; but, a lover once admitted, she never goes through
+      life with only one. She is deserted; she cannot bear the anguish and the
+      solitude; she fills up the void with a second idol. For her there is no
+      longer a fall from virtue: it is a gliding and involuntary descent from
+      sin to sin, till old age comes on and leaves her without love and without
+      respect. I reasoned calmly, for my passions did not blind my reason. I
+      could not love the egotists around me. I resolved upon my career; and now,
+      in temptation, I will adhere to it. Virtue is my lover, my pride, my
+      comfort, my life of life. Do you love me, and will you rob me of this
+      treasure? I saw you, and for the first time I felt a vague and
+      intoxicating interest in another; but I did not dream of danger. As our
+      acquaintance advanced I formed to myself a romantic and delightful vision.
+      I would be your firmest, your truest friend; your confidant, your adviser&mdash;perhaps,
+      in some epochs of life, your inspiration and your guide. I repeat that I
+      foresaw no danger in your society. I felt myself a nobler and a better
+      being. I felt more benevolent, more tolerant, more exalted. I saw life
+      through the medium of purifying admiration for a gifted nature, and a
+      profound and generous soul. I fancied we might be ever thus&mdash;each to
+      each;&mdash;one strengthened, assured, supported by the other. Nay, I even
+      contemplated with pleasure the prospect of your future marriage with
+      another&mdash;of loving your wife&mdash;of contributing with her to your
+      happiness&mdash;my imagination made me forget that we are made of clay.
+      Suddenly all these visions were dispelled&mdash;the fairy palace was
+      overthrown, and I found myself awake, and on the brink of the abyss&mdash;you
+      loved me, and in the moment of that fatal confession, the mask dropped
+      from my soul, and I felt that you had become too dear to me. Be silent
+      still, I implore you. I do not tell you of the emotions, of the struggles,
+      through which I have passed the last few hours&mdash;the crisis of a life.
+      I tell you only of the resolution I formed. I thought it due to you, nor
+      unworthy to myself, to speak the truth. Perhaps it might be more womanly
+      to conceal it; but my heart has something masculine in its nature. I have
+      a great faith in your nobleness. I believe you can sympathise with
+      whatever is best in human weakness. I tell you that I love you&mdash;I
+      throw myself upon your generosity. I beseech you to assist my own sense of
+      right&mdash;to think well of me, to honour me&mdash;and to leave me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      During the last part of this strange and frank avowal, Valerie&rsquo;s voice had
+      grown inexpressibly touching: her tenderness forced itself into her
+      manner; and when she ceased, her lip quivered; her tears, repressed by a
+      violent effort, trembled in her eyes&mdash;her hands were clasped&mdash;her
+      attitude was that of humility, not pride.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers stood perfectly spell-bound. At length he advanced; dropped on
+      one knee, kissed her hand with an aspect and air of reverential homage,
+      and turned to quit the room in silence; for he would not dare to trust
+      himself to speak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Valerie gazed at him in anxious alarm. &ldquo;O no, no!&rdquo; she exclaimed, &ldquo;do not
+      leave me yet; this is our last meeting our last. Tell me, at least, that
+      you understand me; that you see, if I am no weak fool, I am also no
+      heartless coquette; tell me that you see I am not as hard as I have
+      seemed; that I have not knowingly trifled with your happiness; that even
+      now I am not selfish. Your love,&mdash;I ask it no more! But your esteem&mdash;your
+      good opinion. Oh, speak&mdash;speak, I implore you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Valerie,&rdquo; said Maltravers, &ldquo;if I was silent, it was because my heart was
+      too full for words. You have raised all womanhood in my eyes. I did love
+      you&mdash;I now venerate and adore. Your noble frankness, so unlike the
+      irresolute frailty, the miserable wiles of your sex, has touched a chord
+      in my heart that has been mute for years. I leave you to think better of
+      human nature. Oh!&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;hasten to forget all of me that can cost
+      you a pang. Let me still, in absence and in sadness, think that I retain
+      in your friendship&mdash;let it be friendship only&mdash;the inspiration,
+      the guide of which you spoke; and if, hereafter, men shall name me with
+      praise and honour, feel, Valerie, feel that I have comforted myself for
+      the loss of your love by becoming worthy of your confidence&mdash;your
+      esteem. Oh, that we had met earlier, when no barrier was between us!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go, go, <i>now</i>,&rdquo; faltered Valerie, almost choked with her emotions;
+      &ldquo;may Heaven bless you! Go!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers muttered a few inaudible and incoherent words, and quitted the
+      apartment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;The men of sense, those idols of the shallow, are very inferior
+  to the men of Passions. It is the strong passions which, rescuing
+  us from sloth, can alone impart to us that continuous and earnest
+  attention necessary to great intellectual efforts.&rdquo;&mdash;HELVETIUS.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      WHEN Ferrers returned that day from his customary ride, he was surprised
+      to see the lobbies and hall of the apartment which he occupied in common
+      with Maltravers, littered with bags and <i>malles</i>, boxes and books,
+      and Ernest&rsquo;s Swiss valet directing porters and waiters in a mosaic of
+      French, English, and Italian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well!&rdquo; said Lumley, &ldquo;and what is all this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Il signore va partir, sare, ah! mon Dieu!&mdash;<i>tout</i> of a sudden.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O-h! and where is he now!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In his room, sare.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Over the chaos strode Ferrers, and opening the door of his friend&rsquo;s
+      dressing-room without ceremony, he saw Maltravers buried in a fauteuil,
+      with his hands drooping on his knees, his head bent over his breast, and
+      his whole attitude expressive of dejection and exhaustion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter, my dear Ernest? You have not killed a man in a duel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What then? Why are you going away, and whither?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No matter; leave me in peace.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Friendly!&rdquo; said Ferrers; &ldquo;very friendly! And what is to become of me&mdash;what
+      companion am I to have in this cursed resort of antiquarians and
+      lazzaroni? You have no feeling, Mr. Maltravers!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you come with me, then?&rdquo; said Maltravers, in vain endeavouring to
+      rouse himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But where are you going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anywhere; to Paris&mdash;to London.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I have arranged my plans for the summer. I am not so rich as some
+      people. I hate change: it is so expensive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, my dear fellow&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this fair dealing with me?&rdquo; continued Lumley, who, for once in his
+      life, was really angry. &ldquo;If I were an old coat you had worn for five years
+      you could not throw me off with more nonchalance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ferrers, forgive me. My honour is concerned. I must leave this place. I
+      trust you will remain my guest here, though in the absence of your host.
+      You know that I have engaged the apartment for the next three months.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; said Ferrers, &ldquo;as that is the case I may as well stay here. But
+      why so secret? Have you seduced Madame de Ventadour, or has her wise
+      husband his suspicions? Hein, hein!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers smothered his disgust at this coarseness; and, perhaps, there
+      is no greater trial of temper than in a friend&rsquo;s gross remarks upon the
+      connection of the heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ferrers,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;if you care for me, breathe not a word disrespectful
+      to Madame de Ventadour: she is an angel!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why leave Naples?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Trouble me no more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good day, sir,&rdquo; said Ferrers, highly offended, and he stalked out of the
+      chamber; nor did Ernest see him again before his departure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was late that evening when Maltravers found himself alone in his
+      carriage, pursuing by starlight the ancient and melancholy road to Mola di
+      Gaeta.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His solitude was a luxury to Maltravers; he felt an inexpressible sense of
+      relief to be freed from Ferrers. The hard sense, the unpliant, though
+      humorous imperiousness, the animal sensuality of his companion would have
+      been torture to him in his present state of mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next morning, when he rose, the orange blossoms of Mola di Gaeta were
+      sweet beneath the window of the inn where he rested. It was now the early
+      spring, and the freshness of the odour, the breathing health of earth and
+      air, it is impossible to describe. Italy itself boasts few spots more
+      lovely than that same Mola di Gaeta&mdash;nor does that halcyon sea wear,
+      even at Naples or Sorrento, a more bland and enchanting smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So, after a hasty and scarcely-tasted breakfast, Maltravers strolled
+      through the orange groves, and gained the beach; and there, stretched at
+      idle length by the murmuring waves, he resigned himself to thought, and
+      endeavoured, for the first time since his parting with Valerie, to collect
+      and examine the state of his mind and feelings. Maltravers, to his own
+      surprise, did not find himself so unhappy as he had expected. On the
+      contrary, a soft and almost delicious sentiment, which he could not well
+      define, floated over all his memories of the beautiful Frenchwoman.
+      Perhaps the secret was, that while his pride was not mortified, his
+      conscience was not galled&mdash;perhaps, also, he had not loved Valerie so
+      deeply as he had imagined. The confession and the separation had happily
+      come before her presence had grown&mdash;<i>the want of a life</i>. As it
+      was, he felt as if, by some holy and mystic sacrifice, he had been made
+      reconciled to himself and mankind. He woke to a juster and higher
+      appreciation of human nature, and of woman&rsquo;s nature in especial. He had
+      found honesty and truth where he might least have expected it&mdash;in a
+      woman of a court&mdash;in a woman surrounded by vicious and frivolous
+      circles&mdash;in a woman who had nothing in the opinion of her friends,
+      her country, her own husband, the social system in which she moved, to
+      keep her from the concessions of frailty&mdash;in a woman of the world&mdash;a
+      woman of Paris!&mdash;yes, it was his very disappointment that drove away
+      the fogs and vapours that, arising from the marshes of the great world,
+      had gradually settled round his soul. Valerie de Ventadour had taught him
+      not to despise her sex, not to judge by appearances, not to sicken of a
+      low and a hypocritical world. He looked in his heart for the love of
+      Valerie, and he found there the love of virtue. Thus, as he turned his
+      eyes inward, did he gradually awaken to a sense of the true impressions
+      engraved there. And he felt the bitterest drop of the fountains was not
+      sorrow for himself, but for her. What pangs must that high spirit have
+      endured ere it could have submitted to the avowal it had made! Yet, even
+      in this affliction he found at last a solace. A mind so strong could
+      support and heal the weakness of the heart. He felt that Valerie de
+      Ventadour was not a woman to pine away in the unresisted indulgence of
+      morbid and unholy emotions. He could not flatter himself that she would
+      not seek to eradicate a love she repented; and he sighed with a natural
+      selfishness, when he owned also that sooner or later she would succeed.
+      &ldquo;But be it so,&rdquo; said he, half aloud&mdash;&ldquo;I will prepare my heart to
+      rejoice when I learn that she remembers me only as a friend. Next to the
+      bliss of her love is the pride of her esteem.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Such was the sentiment with which his reveries closed&mdash;and with every
+      league that bore him further from the south, the sentiment grew
+      strengthened and confirmed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ernest Maltravers felt there is in the affections themselves so much to
+      purify and exalt, that even an erring love, conceived without a cold
+      design, and (when its nature is fairly understood) wrestled against with a
+      noble spirit, leaves the heart more tolerant and tender, and the mind more
+      settled and enlarged. The philosophy limited to the reason puts into
+      motion the automata of the closet&mdash;but to those who have the world
+      for a stage, and who find their hearts are the great actors, experience
+      and wisdom must be wrought from the Philosophy of the Passions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      BOOK III.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Not to all men Apollo shows himself&mdash;
+  Who sees him&mdash;<i>he</i> is great!&rdquo;
+    CALLIM. <i>Ex Hymno in Apollinon</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
+  Creep in our ears&mdash;soft stillness and the night
+  Become the touches of sweet harmony.&rdquo;
+    SHAKESPEARE.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      BOAT SONG ON THE LAKE OF COMO.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     I.
+
+     The Beautiful Clime!&mdash;the Clime of Love!
+      Thou beautiful Italy!
+     Like a mother&rsquo;s eyes, the earnest skies
+      Ever have smiles for thee!
+     Not a flower that blows, not a beam that glows,
+      But what is in love with thee!
+
+     II.
+
+     The beautiful lake, the Larian lake!*
+      Soft lake like a silver sea,
+     The Huntress Queen, with her nymphs of sheen,
+      Never had bath like thee.
+     See, the Lady of night and her maids of light,
+      Even now are mid-deep in thee!
+
+     * The ancient name of Como.
+
+     III.
+
+     Beautiful child of the lonely hills,
+      Ever blest may thy slumbers be!
+     No mourner should tread by thy dreamy bed,
+      No life bring a care to thee&mdash;
+     Nay, soft to thy bed, let the mourner tread&mdash;
+      And life be a dream like thee!
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Such, though uttered in the soft Italian tongue, and now imperfectly
+      translated&mdash;such were the notes that floated one lovely evening in
+      summer along the lake of Como. The boat, from which came the song, drifted
+      gently down the sparkling waters, towards the mossy banks of a lawn,
+      whence on a little eminence gleamed the white walls of a villa, backed by
+      vineyards. On that lawn stood a young and handsome woman, leaning on the
+      arm of her husband, and listening to the song. But her delight was soon
+      deepened into one of more personal interest, as the boatmen, nearing the
+      banks, changed their measure, and she felt that the minstrelsy was in
+      honour of herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      SERENADE TO THE SONGSTRESS.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+    I.
+
+    CHORUS.
+
+    Softly&mdash;oh, soft! let us rest on the oar,
+    And vex not a billow that sighs to the shore:&mdash;
+    For sacred the spot where the starry waves meet
+    With the beach, where the breath of the citron is sweet.
+    There&rsquo;s a spell on the waves that now waft us along
+    To the last of our Muses, the Spirit of Song.
+
+    RECITATIVE.
+
+      The Eagle of old renown,
+      And the Lombard&rsquo;s iron crown
+    And Milan&rsquo;s mighty name are ours no more;
+      But by this glassy water,
+      Harmonia&rsquo;s youngest daughter,
+    Still from the lightning saves one laurel to our shore.
+
+    II.
+
+    CHORUS.
+
+    They heard thee, Teresa, the Teuton, the Gaul,
+    Who have raised the rude thrones of the North on our fall;
+    They heard thee, and bow&rsquo;d to the might of thy song;
+    Like love went thy steps o&rsquo;er the hearts of the strong;
+    As the moon to the air, as the soul to the clay,
+    To the void of this earth was the breath of thy lay.
+
+    RECITATIVE.
+
+      Honour for aye to her
+      The bright interpreter
+    Of Art&rsquo;s great mysteries to the enchanted throng;
+      While tyrants heard thy strains,
+      Sad Rome forgot her chains;
+    The world the sword had lost was conquer&rsquo;d back by song!
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thou repentest, my Teresa, that thou hast renounced thy dazzling career
+      for a dull home, and a husband old enough to be thy father,&rdquo; said the
+      husband to the wife, with a smile that spoke confidence in the answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, no! even this homage would have no music to me if thou didst not hear
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was a celebrated personage in Italy&mdash;the Signora Cesarini, now
+      Madame de Montaigne. Her earlier youth had been spent upon the stage, and
+      her promise of vocal excellence had been most brilliant. But after a brief
+      though splendid career, she married a French gentleman of good birth and
+      fortune, retired from the stage, and spent her life alternately in the gay
+      saloons of Paris and upon the banks of the dreamy Como, on which her
+      husband had purchased a small but beautiful villa. She still, however,
+      exercised in private her fascinating art; to which&mdash;for she was a
+      woman of singular accomplishment and talent&mdash;she added the gift of
+      the improvvisatrice. She had just returned for the summer to this lovely
+      retreat, and a party of enthusiastic youths from Milan had sought the lake
+      of Como to welcome her arrival with the suitable homage of song and music.
+      It is a charming relic, that custom of the brighter days of Italy; and I
+      myself have listened, on the still waters of the same lake, to a similar
+      greeting to a greater genius&mdash;the queenlike and unrivalled Pasta&mdash;the
+      Semiramis of Song! And while my boat paused, and I caught something of the
+      enthusiasm of the serenaders, the boatman touched me, and, pointing to a
+      part of the lake on which the setting sun shed its rosiest smile, he said,
+      &ldquo;There, Signor, was drowned one of your countrymen &lsquo;bellissimo uomo! che
+      fu bello!&rsquo;&rdquo;&mdash;yes, there, in the pride of his promising youth, of his
+      noble and almost godlike beauty, before the very windows&mdash;the very
+      eyes&mdash;of his bride&mdash;the waves without a frown had swept over the
+      idol of many hearts&mdash;the graceful and gallant Locke.* And above his
+      grave was the voluptuous sky, and over it floated the triumphant music. It
+      was as the moral of the Roman poets&mdash;calling the living to a holiday
+      over the oblivion of the dead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      * Captain William Locke of the Life Guards (the only son of the
+      accomplished Mr. Locke of Norbury Park), distinguished by a character the
+      most amiable, and by a personal beauty that certainly equalled, perhaps
+      surpassed, the highest masterpiece of Grecian sculpture. He was returning
+      in a boat from the town of Como to his villa on the banks of the lake,
+      when the boat was upset by one of the mysterious under-currents to which
+      the lake is dangerously subjected; and he was drowned in sight of his
+      bride, who was watching his return from the terrace or balcony of their
+      home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the boat now touched the bank, Madame de Montaigne accosted the
+      musicians, thanked them with a sweet and unaffected earnestness for the
+      compliment so delicately offered, and invited them ashore. The Milanese,
+      who were six in number, accepted the invitation, and moored their boat to
+      the jutting shore. It was then that Monsieur de Montaigne pointed out to
+      the notice of his wife a boat, that had lingered under the shadow of a
+      bank, tenanted by a young man, who had seemed to listen with rapt
+      attention to the music, and who had once joined in the chorus (as it was
+      twice repeated), with a voice so exquisitely attuned, and so rich in its
+      deep power, that it had awakened the admiration even of the serenaders
+      themselves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does not that gentleman belong to your party?&rdquo; De Montaigne asked of the
+      Milanese.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Signor, we know him not,&rdquo; was the answer; &ldquo;his boat came unawares
+      upon us as we were singing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While this question and answer were going on, the young man had quitted
+      his station, and his oars cut the glassy surface of the lake, just before
+      the place where De Montaigne stood. With the courtesy of his country, the
+      Frenchman lifted his hat; and, by his gesture, arrested the eye and oar of
+      the solitary rower. &ldquo;Will you honour us,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;by joining our little
+      party?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a pleasure I covet too much to refuse,&rdquo; replied the boatman, with a
+      slight foreign accent, and in another moment he was on shore. He was one
+      of remarkable appearance. His long hair floated with a careless grace over
+      a brow more calm and thoughtful than became his years; his manner was
+      unusually quiet and self-collected, and not without a certain stateliness,
+      rendered more striking by the height of his stature, a lordly contour of
+      feature, and a serene but settled expression of melancholy in his eyes and
+      smile. &ldquo;You will easily believe,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;that, cold as my countrymen
+      are esteemed (for you must have discovered already that I am an
+      Englishman), I could not but share in the enthusiasm of those about me,
+      when loitering near the very ground sacred to the inspiration. For the
+      rest, I am residing for the present in yonder villa, opposite to your own;
+      my name is Maltravers, and I am enchanted to think that I am no longer a
+      personal stranger to one whose fame has already reached me.&rdquo; Madame de
+      Montaigne was flattered by something in the manner and tone of the
+      Englishman, which said a great deal more than his words; and in a few
+      minutes, beneath the influence of the happy continental ease, the whole
+      party seemed as if they had known each other for years. Wines, and fruits,
+      and other simple and unpretending refreshments, were brought out and
+      ranged on a rude table upon the grass, round which the guests seated
+      themselves with their host and hostess, and the clear moon shone over
+      them, and the lake slept below in silver. It was a scene for a Boccaccio
+      or a Claude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The conversation naturally fell upon music; it is almost the only thing
+      which Italians in general can be said to know&mdash;and even that
+      knowledge comes to them, like Dogberry&rsquo;s reading and writing, by nature&mdash;for
+      of music, as an <i>art</i>, the unprofessional amateurs know but little.
+      As vain and arrogant of the last wreck of their national genius as the
+      Romans of old were of the empire of all arts and arms, they look upon the
+      harmonies of other lands as barbarous; nor can they appreciate or
+      understand appreciation of the mighty German music, which is the proper
+      minstrelsy of a nation of men&mdash;a music of philosophy, of heroism, of
+      the intellect and the imagination; beside which, the strains of modern
+      Italy are indeed effeminate, fantastic, and artificially feeble. Rossini
+      is the Canova of music, with much of the pretty, with nothing of the
+      grand!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little party talked, however, of music, with an animation and gusto
+      that charmed the melancholy Maltravers, who for weeks had known no
+      companion save his own thoughts, and with whom, at all times, enthusiasm
+      for any art found a ready sympathy. He listened attentively, but said
+      little; and from time to time, whenever the conversation flagged, amused
+      himself by examining his companions. The six Milanese had nothing
+      remarkable in their countenances or in their talk; they possessed the
+      characteristic energy and volubility of their countrymen, with something
+      of the masculine dignity which distinguishes the Lombard from the
+      Southern, and a little of the French polish, which the inhabitants of
+      Milan seldom fail to contract. Their rank was evidently that of the middle
+      class; for Milan has a middle class, and one which promises great results
+      hereafter. But they were noways distinguished from a thousand other
+      Milanese whom Maltravers had met with in the walks and cafes of their
+      noble city. The host was somewhat more interesting. He was a tall,
+      handsome man, of about eight-and-forty, with a high forehead, and features
+      strongly impressed with the sober character of thought. He had but little
+      of the French vivacity in his manner; and without looking at his
+      countenance, you would still have felt insensibly that he was the eldest
+      of the party. His wife was at least twenty years younger than himself,
+      mirthful and playful as a child, but with a certain feminine and
+      fascinating softness in her unrestrained gestures and sparkling gaiety,
+      which seemed to subdue her natural joyousness into the form and method of
+      conventional elegance. Dark hair carelessly arranged, an open forehead,
+      large black laughing eyes, a small straight nose, a complexion just
+      relieved from the olive by an evanescent, yet perpetually recurring blush;
+      a round dimpled cheek, an exquisitely-shaped mouth with small pearly
+      teeth, and a light and delicate figure a little below the ordinary
+      standard, completed the picture of Madame de Montaigne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Signor Tirabaloschi, the most loquacious and sentimental of
+      the guests, filling his glass, &ldquo;these are hours to think of for the rest
+      of life. But we cannot hope the Signora will long remember what we never
+      can forget. Paris, says the French proverb, <i>est le paradis des femmes</i>:
+      and in Paradise, I take it for granted, we recollect very little of what
+      happened on earth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said Madame de Montaigne, with a pretty musical laugh, &ldquo;in Paris it
+      is the rage to despise the frivolous life of cities, and to affect <i>des
+      sentimens romanesques</i>. This is precisely the scene which our fine
+      ladies and fine writers would die to talk of and to describe. Is it not
+      so, <i>mon ami</i>?&rdquo; and she turned affectionately to De Montaigne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;True,&rdquo; replied he; &ldquo;but you are not worthy of such a scene&mdash;you
+      laugh at sentiment and romance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only at French sentiment and the romance of the Chaussee d&rsquo;Antin. You
+      English,&rdquo; she continued, shaking her head at Maltravers, &ldquo;have spoiled and
+      corrupted us; we are not content to imitate you, we must excel you; we
+      out-horror horror, and rush from the extravagant into the frantic!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The ferment of the new school is, perhaps, better than the stagnation of
+      the old,&rdquo; said Maltravers. &ldquo;Yet even you,&rdquo; addressing himself to the
+      Italians, &ldquo;who first in Petrarch, in Tasso, and in Ariosto, set to Europe
+      the example of the Sentimental and the Romantic; who built among the very
+      ruins of the classic school, amidst its Corinthian columns and sweeping
+      arches, the spires and battlements of the Gothic&mdash;even you are
+      deserting your old models and guiding literature into newer and wilder
+      paths. &lsquo;Tis the way of the world&mdash;eternal progress is eternal
+      change.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very possibly,&rdquo; said Signor Tirabaloschi, who understood nothing of what
+      was said. &ldquo;Nay, it is extremely profound; on reflection, it is beautiful&mdash;superb!
+      you English are so&mdash;so&mdash;in short, it is admirable. Ugo Foscolo
+      is a great genius&mdash;so is Monti; and as for Rossini,&mdash;you know
+      his last opera&mdash;<i>cosa stupenda</i>!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame de Montaigne glanced at Maltravers, clapped her little hands, and
+      laughed outright. Maltravers caught the contagion, and laughed also. But
+      he hastened to repair the pedantic error he had committed of talking over
+      the heads of the company. He took up the guitar, which, among their
+      musical instruments, the serenaders had brought, and after touching its
+      chords for a few moments, said: &ldquo;After all, Madame, in your society, and
+      with this moonlit lake before us, we feel as if music were our best medium
+      of conversation. Let us prevail upon these gentlemen to delight us once
+      more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You forestall what I was going to ask,&rdquo; said the ex-singer; and
+      Maltravers offered the guitar to Tirabaloschi, who was in fact dying to
+      exhibit his powers again. He took the instrument with a slight grimace of
+      modesty, and then saying to Madame de Montaigne, &ldquo;There is a song composed
+      by a young friend of mine, which is much admired by the ladies; though to
+      me it seems a little too sentimental,&rdquo; sang the following stanzas (as good
+      singers are wont to do) with as much feeling as if he could understand
+      them!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      NIGHT AND LOVE.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When stars are in the quiet skies, Then most I pine for thee; Bend on me,
+      then, thy tender eyes! As stars look on the sea!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For thoughts, like waves that glide by night, Are stillest where they
+      shine; Mine earthly love lies hushed in light Beneath the heaven of thine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There is an hour when angels keep Familiar watch on men; When coarser
+      souls are wrapt in sleep,&mdash; Sweet spirit, meet me then.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+There is an hour when holy dreams  Through slumber fairest glide;
+And in that mystic hour it seems  Thou shouldst be by my side.
+
+     The thoughts of thee too sacred are
+       For daylight&rsquo;s common beam;&mdash;
+     I can but know thee as my star,
+       My angel, and my dream!
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      And now, the example set, and the praises of the fair hostess exciting
+      general emulation, the guitar circled from hand to hand, and each of the
+      Italians performed his part; you might have fancied yourself at one of the
+      old Greek feasts, with the lyre and the myrtle-branch going the round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But both the Italians and the Englishman felt the entertainment would be
+      incomplete without hearing the celebrated vocalist and improvvisatrice who
+      presided over the little banquet; and Madame de Montaigne, with a woman&rsquo;s
+      tact, divined the general wish, and anticipated the request that was sure
+      to be made. She took the guitar from the last singer, and turning to
+      Maltravers, said, &ldquo;You have heard, of course, some of our more eminent
+      improvvisatori, and therefore if I ask you for a subject it will only be
+      to prove to you that the talent is not general amongst the Italians.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said Maltravers, &ldquo;I have heard, indeed, some ugly old gentlemen with
+      immense whiskers, and gestures of the most alarming ferocity, pour out
+      their vehement impromptus; but I have never yet listened to a young and a
+      handsome lady. I shall only believe the inspiration when I hear it direct
+      from the Muse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I will do my best to deserve your compliments&mdash;you must give
+      me the theme.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers paused a moment, and suggested the Influence of Praise on
+      Genius.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The improvvisatrice nodded assent, and after a short prelude broke forth
+      into a wild and varied strain of verse, in a voice so exquisitely sweet,
+      with a taste so accurate, and a feeling so deep that the poetry sounded to
+      the enchanted listeners like the language that Armida might have uttered.
+      Yet the verses themselves, like all extemporaneous effusions, were of a
+      nature both to pass from the memory and to defy transcription.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Madame de Montaigne&rsquo;s song ceased, no rapturous plaudits followed&mdash;the
+      Italians were too affected by the science, Maltravers by the feeling, for
+      the coarseness of ready praise;&mdash;and ere that delighted silence which
+      made the first impulse was broken, a new comer, descending from the groves
+      that clothed the ascent behind the house, was in the midst of the party.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, my dear brother,&rdquo; cried Madame Montaigne, starting up, and banging
+      fondly on the arm of the stranger, &ldquo;why have you lingered so long in the
+      wood? You, so delicate! And how are you? How pale you seem!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is but the reflection of the moonlight, Teresa,&rdquo; said the intruder; &ldquo;I
+      feel well.&rdquo; So saying, he scowled on the merry party, and turned as if to
+      slink away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; whispered Teresa, &ldquo;you must stay a moment and be presented to my
+      guests: there is an Englishman here whom you will like&mdash;who will <i>interest</i>
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With that she almost dragged him forward, and introduced him to her
+      guests. Signor Cesarini returned their salutations with a mixture of
+      bashfulness and <i>hauteur</i>, half-awkward and half-graceful, and
+      muttering some inaudible greeting, sank into a seat and appeared instantly
+      lost in reverie. Maltravers gazed upon him, and was pleased with his
+      aspect&mdash;which, if not handsome, was strange and peculiar. He was
+      extremely slight and thin&mdash;his cheeks hollow and colourless, with a
+      profusion of black silken ringlets that almost descended to his shoulders.
+      His eyes, deeply sunk into his head, were large and intensely brilliant;
+      and a thin moustache, curling downwards, gave an additional austerity to
+      his mouth, which was closed with gloomy and half-sarcastic firmness. He
+      was not dressed as people dress in general, but wore a frock of dark
+      camlet, with a large shirt-collar turned down, and a narrow slip of black
+      silk twisted rather than tied round his throat; his nether garments fitted
+      tight to his limbs, and a pair of half-hessians completed his costume. It
+      was evident that the young man (and he was very young&mdash;perhaps about
+      nineteen or twenty) indulged that coxcombry of the Picturesque which is
+      the sign of a vainer mind than is the commoner coxcombry of the <i>Mode</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is astonishing how frequently it happens, that the introduction of a
+      single intruder upon a social party is sufficient to destroy all the
+      familiar harmony that existed there before. We see it even when the
+      intruder is agreeable and communicative&mdash;but in the present instance,
+      a ghost could scarcely have been a more unwelcoming or unwelcome visitor.
+      The presence of this shy, speechless, supercilious-looking man threw a
+      damp over the whole group. The gay Tirabaloschi immediately discovered
+      that it was time to depart&mdash;it had not struck any one before, but it
+      certainly <i>was</i> late. The Italians began to bustle about, to collect
+      their music, to make fine speeches and fine professions&mdash;to bow and
+      to smile&mdash;to scramble into their boat, and to push towards the inn at
+      Como, where they had engaged their quarters for the night. As the boat
+      glided away, and while two of them were employed at the oar, the remaining
+      four took up their instruments and sang a parting glee. It was quite
+      midnight&mdash;the hush of all things around had grown more intense and
+      profound&mdash;there was a wonderful might of silence in the shining air
+      and amidst the shadows thrown by the near banks and the distant hills over
+      the water. So that as the music chiming in with the oars grew fainter and
+      fainter, it is impossible to describe the thrilling and magical effect it
+      produced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The party ashore did not speak; there was a moisture, a grateful one, in
+      the bright eyes of Teresa, as she leant upon the manly form of De
+      Montaigne, for whom her attachment was, perhaps, yet more deep and pure
+      for the difference of their ages. A girl who once loves a man, not indeed
+      old, but much older than herself, loves him with such a <i>looking up</i>
+      and venerating love! Maltravers stood a little apart from the couple, on
+      the edge of the shelving bank, with folded arms and thoughtful
+      countenance. &ldquo;How is it,&rdquo; said he, unconscious that he was speaking half
+      aloud, &ldquo;that the commonest beings of the world should be able to give us a
+      pleasure so unworldly? What a contrast between those musicians and this
+      music. At this distance their forms are dimly seen, one might almost fancy
+      the creators of those sweet sounds to be of another mould from us. Perhaps
+      even thus the poetry of the Past rings on our ears&mdash;the deeper and
+      the diviner, because removed from the clay which made the poets. O Art,
+      Art! how dost thou beautify and exalt us; what is nature without thee!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a poet, Signor,&rdquo; said a soft clear voice beside the soliloquist;
+      and Maltravers started to find that he had had unknowingly a listener in
+      the young Cesarini.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Maltravers; &ldquo;I cull the flowers, I do not cultivate the soil.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And why not?&rdquo; said Cesarini, with abrupt energy; &ldquo;you are an Englishman&mdash;<i>you</i>
+      have a public&mdash;you have a country&mdash;you have a living stage, a
+      breathing audience; we, Italians, have nothing but the dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he looked on the young man, Maltravers was surprised to see the sudden
+      animation which glowed upon his pale features.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You asked me a question I would fain put to you,&rdquo; said the Englishman,
+      after a pause. &ldquo;<i>You</i>, methinks, are a poet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have fancied that I might be one. But poetry with us is a bird in the
+      wilderness&mdash;it sings from an impulse&mdash;the song dies without a
+      listener. Oh that I belonged to a <i>living</i> country,&mdash;France,
+      England, Germany, Arnerica,&mdash;and not to the corruption of a dead
+      giantess&mdash;for such is now the land of the ancient lyre.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us meet again, and soon,&rdquo; said Maltravers, holding out his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Cesarini hesitated a moment, and then accepted and returned the proffered
+      salutation. Reserved as he was, something in Maltravers attracted him;
+      and, indeed, there was that in Ernest which fascinated most of those
+      unhappy eccentrics who do not move in the common orbit of the world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a few moments more the Englishman had said farewell to the owner of the
+      villa, and his light boat skimmed rapidly over the tide.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you think of the <i>Inglese</i>?&rdquo; said Madame de Montaigne to her
+      husband, as they turned towards the house. (They said not a word about the
+      Milanese.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has a noble bearing for one so young,&rdquo; said the Frenchman; &ldquo;and seems
+      to have seen the world, and both to have profited and to have suffered by
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will prove an acquisition to our society here,&rdquo; returned Teresa; &ldquo;he
+      interests me; and you, Castruccio?&rdquo; turning to seek for her brother; but
+      Cesarini had already, with his usual noiseless step, disappeared within
+      the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas, my poor brother!&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I cannot comprehend him. What does he
+      desire?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fame!&rdquo; replied De Montaigne, calmly. &ldquo;It is a vain shadow; no wonder that
+      he disquiets himself in vain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Alas! what boots it with incessant care
+  To strictly meditate the thankless Muse;
+  Were I not better done as others use,
+  To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,
+  Or with the tangles of Neaera&rsquo;s hair?&rdquo;
+    MILTON&rsquo;S <i>Lycidas</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      THERE is nothing more salutary to active men than occasional intervals of
+      repose,&mdash;when we look within, instead of without, and examine almost
+      <i>insensibly</i> (for I hold strict and conscious self-scrutiny a thing
+      much rarer than we suspect)&mdash;what we have done&mdash;what we are
+      capable of doing. It is settling, as it were, a debtor and creditor
+      account with the past, before we plunge into new speculations. Such an
+      interval of repose did Maltravers now enjoy. In utter solitude, so far as
+      familiar companionship is concerned, he had for several weeks been making
+      himself acquainted with his own character and mind. He read and thought
+      much, but without any exact or defined object. I think it is Montaigne who
+      says somewhere: &ldquo;People talk about thinking&mdash;but for my part I never
+      think, except when I sit down to write.&rdquo; I believe this is not a very
+      common case, for people who don&rsquo;t write think as well as people who do;
+      but connected, severe, well-developed thought, in contradistinction to
+      vague meditation, must be connected with some tangible plan or object; and
+      therefore we must be either writing men or acting men, if we desire to
+      test the logic, and unfold into symmetrical design the fused colours of
+      our reasoning faculty. Maltravers did not yet feel this, but he was
+      sensible of some intellectual want. His ideas, his memories, his dreams
+      crowded thick and confused upon him; he wished to arrange them in order,
+      and he could not. He was overpowered by the unorganised affluence of his
+      own imagination and intellect. He had often, even as a child, fancied that
+      he was formed to do something in the world, but he had never steadily
+      considered what it was to be, whether he was to become a man of books or a
+      man of deeds. He had written poetry when it poured irresistibly from the
+      fount of emotion within, but looked at his effusions with a cold and
+      neglectful eye when the enthusiasm had passed away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers was not much gnawed by the desire of fame&mdash;perhaps few men
+      of real genius are, until artificially worked up to it. There is in a
+      sound and correct intellect, with all its gifts fairly balanced, a calm
+      consciousness of power, a certainty that when its strength is fairly put
+      out, it must be to realise the usual result of strength. Men of
+      second-rate faculties, on the contrary, are fretful and nervous, fidgeting
+      after a celebrity which they do not estimate by their own talents, but by
+      the talents of some one else. They see a tower, but are occupied only with
+      measuring its shadow, and think their own height (which they never
+      calculate) is to cast as broad a one over the earth. It is the short man
+      who is always throwing up his chin, and is as erect as a dart. The tall
+      man stoops, and the strong man is not always using the dumb-bells.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers had not yet, then, the keen and sharp yearning for reputation;
+      he had not, as yet, tasted its sweets and bitters&mdash;fatal draught,
+      which <i>once</i> tasted, begets too often an insatiable thirst! neither
+      had he enemies and decriers whom he was desirous of abashing by merit. And
+      that is a very ordinary cause for exertion in proud minds. He was, it is
+      true, generally reputed clever, and fools were afraid of him: but as he
+      actively interfered with no man&rsquo;s pretensions, so no man thought it
+      necessary to call him a blockhead. At present, therefore, it was quietly
+      and naturally that his mind was working its legitimate way to its destiny
+      of exertion. He began idly and carelessly to note down his thoughts and
+      impressions; what was once put on the paper, begot new matter; his ideas
+      became more lucid to himself; and the page grew a looking-glass, which
+      presented the likeness of his own features. He began by writing with
+      rapidity, and without method. He had no object but to please himself, and
+      to find a vent for an overcharged spirit; and, like most writings of the
+      young, the matter was egotistical. We commence with the small nucleus of
+      passion and experience, to widen the circle afterwards; and, perhaps, the
+      most extensive and universal masters of life and character have begun by
+      being egotists. For there is in a man that has much in him a wonderfully
+      acute and sensitive perception of his own existence. An imaginative and
+      susceptible person has, indeed, ten times as much life as a dull fellow,
+      &ldquo;an he be Hercules.&rdquo; He multiplies himself in a thousand objects,
+      associates each with his own identity, lives in each, and almost looks
+      upon the world with its infinite objects as a part of his individual
+      being. Afterwards, as he tames down, he withdraws his forces into the
+      citadel, but he still has a knowledge of, and an interest in, the land
+      they once covered. He understands other people, for he has lived in other
+      people&mdash;the dead and the living;&mdash;fancied himself now Brutus and
+      now Caesar, and thought how <i>he</i> should act in almost every
+      imaginable circumstance of life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus, when he begins to paint human characters, essentially different from
+      his own, his knowledge comes to him almost intuitively. It is as if he
+      were describing the mansions in which he himself has formerly lodged,
+      though for a short time. Hence in great writers of History&mdash;of
+      Romance&mdash;of the Drama&mdash;the <i>gusto</i> with which they paint
+      their personages; their creations are flesh and blood, not shadows or
+      machines.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers was at first, then, an egotist, in the matter of his rude and
+      desultory sketches&mdash;in the manner, as I said before, he was careless
+      and negligent, as men will be who have not yet found that expression is an
+      art. Still those wild and valueless essays&mdash;those rapt and secret
+      confessions of his own heart&mdash;were a delight to him. He began to
+      taste the transport, the intoxication of an author. And, oh, what a luxury
+      is there in that first love of the Muse! that process by which we give
+      palpable form to the long-intangible visions which have flitted across us;&mdash;the
+      beautiful ghost of the Ideal within us, which we invoke in the Gadara of
+      our still closets, with the wand of the simple pen!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was early noon, the day after he had formed his acquaintance with the
+      De Montaignes, that Maltravers sat in his favourite room;&mdash;the one he
+      had selected for his study from the many chambers of his large and
+      solitary habitation. He sat in a recess by the open window, which looked
+      on the lake; and books were scattered on his table, and Maltravers was
+      jotting down his criticisms on what he read, mingled with his impressions
+      on what he saw. It is the pleasantest kind of composition&mdash;the
+      note-book of a man who studies in retirement, who observes in society, who
+      in all things can admire and feel. He was yet engaged in this easy task,
+      when Cesarini was announced, and the young brother of the fair Teresa
+      entered his apartment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have availed myself soon of your invitation,&rdquo; said the Italian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I acknowledge the compliment,&rdquo; replied Maltravers, pressing the hand
+      shyly held out to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see you have been writing&mdash;I thought you were attached to
+      literature. I read it in your countenance, I heard it in your voice,&rdquo; said
+      Cesarini, seating himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been idly beguiling a very idle leisure, it is true,&rdquo; said
+      Maltravers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you do not write for yourself alone&mdash;you have an eye to the
+      great tribunals&mdash;Time and the Public.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not so, I assure you honestly,&rdquo; said Maltravers, smiling. &ldquo;If you look at
+      the books on my table, you will see that they are the great masterpieces
+      of ancient and modern lore&mdash;these are studies that discourage tyros&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But inspire them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not think so. Models may form our taste as critics, but do not
+      excite us to be authors. I fancy that our own emotions, our own sense of
+      our destiny, make the great lever of the inert matter we accumulate. &lsquo;Look
+      in thy heart and write,&rsquo; said an old English writer,* who did not,
+      however, practise what he preached. And you, Signor&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      * Sir Philip Sidney.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Am nothing, and would be something,&rdquo; said the young man, shortly and
+      bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how does that wish not realise its object?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Merely because I am Italian,&rdquo; said Cesarini. &ldquo;With us there is no
+      literary public&mdash;no vast reading class&mdash;we have dilettanti and
+      literati, and students, and even authors; but these make only a coterie,
+      not a public. I have written, I have published; but no one listened to me.
+      I am an author without readers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is no uncommon case in England,&rdquo; said Maltravers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Italian continued: &ldquo;I thought to live in the mouths of men&mdash;to
+      stir up thoughts long dumb&mdash;to awaken the strings of the old lyre! In
+      vain. Like the nightingale, I sing only to break my heart with a false and
+      melancholy emulation of other notes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are epochs in all countries,&rdquo; said Maltravers, gently, &ldquo;when
+      peculiar veins of literature are out of vogue, and when no genius can
+      bring them into public notice. But you wisely said there were two
+      tribunals&mdash;the Public and Time. You have still the last to appeal to.
+      Your great Italian historians wrote for the unborn&mdash;their works not
+      even published till their death. That indifference to living reputation
+      has in it, to me, something of the sublime.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot imitate them&mdash;and they were not poets,&rdquo; said Cesarini,
+      sharply. &ldquo;To poets, praise is a necessary aliment; neglect is death.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Signor Cesarini,&rdquo; said the Englishman, feelingly, &ldquo;do not give
+      way to these thoughts. There ought to be in a healthful ambition the
+      stubborn stuff of persevering longevity; it must live on, and hope for the
+      day which comes slow or fast, to all whose labours deserve the goal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But perhaps mine do not. I sometimes fear so&mdash;it is a horrid
+      thought.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very young yet,&rdquo; said Maltravers; &ldquo;how few at your age ever
+      sicken for fame! That first step is, perhaps, the half way to the prize.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I am not sure that Ernest thought exactly as he spoke; but it was the most
+      delicate consolation to offer to a man whose abrupt frankness embarrassed
+      and distressed him. The young man shook his head despondingly. Maltravers
+      tried to change the subject&mdash;he rose and moved to the balcony, which
+      overhung the lake&mdash;he talked of the weather&mdash;he dwelt on the
+      exquisite scenery&mdash;he pointed to the minute and more latent beauties
+      around, with the eye and taste of one who had looked at Nature in her
+      details. The poet grew more animated and cheerful; he became even
+      eloquent; he quoted poetry and he talked it. Maltravers was more and more
+      interested in him. He felt a curiosity to know if his talents equalled his
+      aspirations: he hinted to Cesarini his wish to see his compositions&mdash;it
+      was just what the young man desired. Poor Cesarini! It was much to him to
+      get a new listener, and he fondly imagined every honest listener must be a
+      warm admirer. But with the coyness of his caste, he affected reluctance
+      and hesitation; he dallied with his own impatient yearnings. And
+      Maltravers, to smooth his way, proposed an excursion on the lake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One of my men shall row,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;you shall recite to me, and I will be
+      to you what the old housekeeper was to Moliere.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers had deep good-nature where he was touched, though he had not a
+      superfluity of what is called good-humour, which floats on the surface and
+      smiles on all alike. He had much of the milk of human kindness, but little
+      of its oil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The poet assented, and they were soon upon the lake. It was a sultry day,
+      and it was noon; so the boat crept slowly along by the shadow of the
+      shore, and Cesarini drew from his breast-pocket some manuscripts of small
+      and beautiful writing. Who does not know the pains a young poet takes to
+      bestow a fair dress on his darling rhymes!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Cesarini read well and feelingly. Everything was in favour of the reader.
+      His own poetical countenance&mdash;his voice, his enthusiasm,
+      half-suppressed&mdash;the pre-engaged interest of the auditor&mdash;the
+      dreamy loveliness of the hour and scene&mdash;(for there is a great deal
+      as to time in these things). Maltravers listened intently. It is very
+      difficult to judge of the exact merit of poetry in another language even
+      when we know that language well&mdash;so much is there in the
+      untranslatable magic of expression, the little subtleties of style. But
+      Maltravers, fresh, as he himself had said, from the study of great and
+      original writers, could not but feel that he was listening to feeble
+      though melodious mediocrity. It was the poetry of words, not things. He
+      thought it cruel, however, to be hypercritical, and he uttered all the
+      commonplaces of eulogium that occurred to him. The young man was
+      enchanted: &ldquo;And yet,&rdquo; said he with a sigh, &ldquo;I have no Public. In England
+      they would appreciate me.&rdquo; Alas! in England, at that moment, there were
+      five hundred poets as young, as ardent, and yet more gifted, whose hearts
+      beat with the same desire&mdash;whose nerves were broken by the same
+      disappointments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers found that his young friend would not listen to any judgment
+      not purely favourable. The archbishop in <i>Gil Blas</i> was not more
+      touchy upon any criticism that was not panegyric. Maltravers thought it a
+      bad sign, but he recollected Gil Blas, and prudently refrained from
+      bringing on himself the benevolent wish of &ldquo;beaucoup de bonheur et un peu,
+      plus de bon gout.&rdquo; When Cesarini had finished his MS., he was anxious to
+      conclude the excursion&mdash;he longed to be at home, and think over the
+      admiration he had excited. But he left his poems with Maltravers, and
+      getting on shore by the remains of Pliny&rsquo;s villa, was soon out of sight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers that evening read the poems with attention. His first opinion
+      was confirmed. The young man wrote without knowledge. He had never felt
+      the passions he painted, never been in the situations he described. There
+      was no originality in him, for there was no experience; it was exquisite
+      mechanism, his verse,&mdash;nothing more. It might well deceive him, for
+      it could not but flatter his ear&mdash;and Tasso&rsquo;s silver march rang not
+      more musically than did the chiming stanzas of Castruccio Cesarini.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The perusal of this poetry, and his conversation with the poet, threw
+      Maltravers into a fit of deep musing. &ldquo;This poor Cesarini may warn me
+      against myself!&rdquo; thought he. &ldquo;Better hew wood and draw water than attach
+      ourselves devotedly to an art in which we have not the capacity to
+      excel.... It is to throw away the healthful objects of life for a diseased
+      dream,&mdash;worse than the Rosicrucians, it is to make a sacrifice of all
+      human beauty for the smile of a sylphid that never visits us but in
+      visions.&rdquo; Maltravers looked over his own compositions, and thrust them
+      into the fire. He slept ill that night. His pride was a little dejected.
+      He was like a beauty who has seen a caricature of herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Still follow SENSE, of every art the Soul.&rdquo;
+    POPE: <i>Moral Essays</i>&mdash;Essay iv.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      ERNEST MALTRAVERS spent much of his time with the family of De Montaigne.
+      There is no period of life in which we are more accessible to the
+      sentiment of friendship than in the intervals of moral exhaustion which
+      succeed to the disappointments of the passions. There is, then, something
+      inviting in those gentler feelings which keep alive, but do not fever, the
+      circulation of the affections. Maltravers looked with the benevolence of a
+      brother upon the brilliant, versatile, and restless Teresa. She was the
+      last person in the world he could have been in love with&mdash;for his
+      nature, ardent, excitable, yet fastidious, required something of repose in
+      the manners and temperament of the woman whom he could love, and Teresa
+      scarcely knew what repose was. Whether playing with her children (and she
+      had two lovely ones&mdash;the eldest six years old), or teasing her calm
+      and meditative husband, or pouring out extempore verses, or rattling over
+      airs which she never finished, on the guitar or piano&mdash;or making
+      excursions on the lake&mdash;or, in short, in whatever occupation she
+      appeared as the Cynthia of the minute, she was always gay and mobile&mdash;never
+      out of humour, never acknowledging a single care or cross in life&mdash;never
+      susceptible of grief, save when her brother&rsquo;s delicate health or morbid
+      temper saddened her atmosphere of sunshine. Even then, the sanguine
+      elasticity of her mind and constitution quickly recovered from the
+      depression; and she persuaded herself that Castruccio would grow stronger
+      every year, and ripen into a celebrated and happy man. Castruccio himself
+      lived what romantic poetasters call the &ldquo;life of a poet.&rdquo; He loved to see
+      the sun rise over the distant Alps&mdash;or the midnight moon sleeping on
+      the lake. He spent half the day, and often half the night, in solitary
+      rambles, weaving his airy rhymes, or indulging his gloomy reveries, and he
+      thought loneliness made the element of a poet. Alas! Dante, Alfieri, even
+      Petrarch might have taught him, that a poet must have intimate knowledge
+      of men as well as mountains, if he desire to become the CREATOR. When
+      Shelley, in one of his prefaces, boasts of being familiar with Alps and
+      glaciers, and Heaven knows what, the critical artist cannot help wishing
+      that he had been rather familiar with Fleet Street or the Strand. Perhaps,
+      then, that remarkable genius might have been more capable of realizing
+      characters of flesh and blood, and have composed corporeal and consummate
+      wholes, not confused and glittering fragments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Though Ernest was attached to Teresa and deeply interested in Castruccio,
+      it was De Montaigne for whom he experienced the higher and graver
+      sentiment of esteem. This Frenchman was one acquainted with a much larger
+      world than that of the Coteries. He had served in the army, had been
+      employed with distinction in civil affairs, and was of that robust and
+      healthful moral constitution which can bear with every variety of social
+      life, and estimate calmly the balance of our moral fortunes. Trial and
+      experience had left him that true philosopher who is too wise to be an
+      optimist, too just to be a misanthrope. He enjoyed life with sober
+      judgment, and pursued the path most suited to himself, without declaring
+      it to be the best for others. He was a little hard, perhaps, upon the
+      errors that belong to weakness and conceit&mdash;not to those that have
+      their source in great natures or generous thoughts. Among his
+      characteristics was a profound admiration for England. His own country he
+      half loved, yet half disdained. The impetuosity and levity of his
+      compatriots displeased his sober and dignified notions. He could not
+      forgive them (he was wont to say) for having made the two grand
+      experiments of popular revolution and military despotism in vain. He
+      sympathised neither with the young enthusiasts who desired a republic,
+      without well knowing the numerous strata of habits and customs upon which
+      that fabric, if designed for permanence, should be built&mdash;nor with
+      the uneducated and fierce chivalry that longed for a restoration of the
+      warrior empire&mdash;nor with the dull and arrogant bigots who connected
+      all ideas of order and government with the ill-starred and worn-out
+      dynasty of the Bourbons. In fact, GOOD SENSE was with him the <i>principium
+      et fons</i> of all theories and all practice. And it was this quality that
+      attached him to the English. His philosophy on this head was rather
+      curious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good sense,&rdquo; said he one day to Maltravers, as they were walking to and
+      fro at De Montaigne&rsquo;s villa, by the margin of the lake, &ldquo;is not a merely
+      intellectual attribute. It is rather the result of a just equilibrium of
+      all our faculties, spiritual and moral. The dishonest, or the toys of
+      their own passions, may have genius; but they rarely, if ever, have good
+      sense in the conduct of life. They may often win large prizes, but it is
+      by a game of chance, not skill. But the man whom I perceive walking an
+      honourable and upright career&mdash;just to others, and also to himself
+      (for we owe justice to ourselves&mdash;to the care of our fortunes, our
+      character&mdash;to the management of our passions)&mdash;is a more
+      dignified representative of his Maker than the mere child of genius. Of
+      such a man we say he has GOOD SENSE; yes, but he has also integrity,
+      self-respect, and self-denial. A thousand trials which his sense raves and
+      conquers, are temptations also to his probity&mdash;his temper&mdash;in a
+      word, to all the many sides of his complicated nature. Now, I do not think
+      he will have this <i>good sense</i> any more than a drunkard will have
+      strong nerves, unless he be in the constant habit of keeping his mind
+      clear from the intoxication of envy, vanity, and the various emotions that
+      dupe and mislead us. Good sense is not, therefore, an abstract quality or
+      a solitary talent; but it is the natural result of the habit of thinking
+      justly, and therefore seeing clearly, and is as different from the
+      sagacity that belongs to a diplomatist or attorney, as the philosophy of
+      Socrates differed from the rhetoric of Gorgias. As a mass of individual
+      excellences make up this attribute in a man, so a mass of such men thus
+      characterised give a character to a nation. Your England is, therefore,
+      renowned for its good sense, but it is renowned also for the excellences
+      which accompany strong sense in an individual&mdash;high honesty and faith
+      in its dealings, a warm love of justice and fair play, a general freedom
+      from the violent crimes common on the Continent, and the energetic
+      perseverance in enterprise once commenced, which results from a bold and
+      healthful disposition.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our wars, our debt&mdash;&rdquo; began Maltravers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me,&rdquo; interrupted De Montaigne, &ldquo;I am speaking of your people, not
+      of your government. A government is often a very unfair representative of
+      a nation. But even in the wars you allude to, if you examine, you will
+      generally find them originate in the love of justice, which is the basis
+      of good sense, not from any insane desire of conquest or glory. A man,
+      however sensible, must have a heart in his bosom, and a great nation
+      cannot be a piece of selfish clockwork. Suppose you and I are sensible,
+      prudent men, and we see in a crowd one violent fellow unjustly knocking
+      another on the head, we should be brutes, not men, if we did not interfere
+      with the savage; but if we thrust ourselves into a crowd with a large
+      bludgeon, and belabour our neighbours, with the hope that the spectators
+      would cry, &lsquo;See what a bold, strong fellow that is!&rsquo;&mdash;then we should
+      be only playing the madman from the motive of the coxcomb. I fear you will
+      find in the military history of the French and English the application of
+      my parable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet still, I confess, there is a gallantry, and a noblemanlike and Norman
+      spirit in the whole French nation, which make me forgive many of their
+      excesses, and think they are destined for great purposes, when experience
+      shall have sobered their hot blood. Some nations, as some men, are slow in
+      arriving at maturity; others seem men in their cradle. The English, thanks
+      to their sturdy Saxon origin, elevated, not depressed, by the Norman
+      infusion, never were children. The difference is striking, when you regard
+      the representatives of both in their great men&mdash;whether writers or
+      active citizens.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said De Montaigne, &ldquo;in Milton and Cromwell there is nothing of the
+      brilliant child. I cannot say as much for Voltaire or Napoleon. Even
+      Richelieu, the manliest of our statesmen, had so much of the French infant
+      in him as to fancy himself a <i>beau garcon</i>, a gallant, a wit, and a
+      poet. As for the Racine school of writers, they were not out of the
+      leading-strings of imitation&mdash;cold copyists of a pseudo-classic, in
+      which they saw the form, and never caught the spirit. What so little
+      Roman, Greek, Hebrew, as their Roman, Greek, and Hebrew dramas? Your rude
+      Shakespeare&rsquo;s <i>Julius Caesar</i>&mdash;even his <i>Troilus and Cressida</i>&mdash;have
+      the ancient spirit, precisely as they are imitations of nothing ancient.
+      But our Frenchmen copied the giant images of old just as the school-girl
+      copies a drawing, by holding it up to the window, and tracing the lines on
+      silver paper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But your new writers&mdash;De Stael&mdash;Chateaubriand?&rdquo; *
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      * At the time of this conversation the later school, adorned by Victor
+      Hugo, who, with notions of art elaborately wrong, is still a man of
+      extraordinary genius, had not risen into its present equivocal reputation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I find no fault with the sentimentalists,&rdquo; answered the severe critic,
+      &ldquo;but that of exceeding feebleness. They have no bone and muscle in their
+      genius&mdash;all is flaccid and rotund in its feminine symmetry. They seem
+      to think that vigour consists in florid phrases and little aphorisms, and
+      delineate all the mighty tempests of the human heart with the polished
+      prettiness of a miniature-painter on ivory. No!&mdash;these two are
+      children of another kind&mdash;affected, tricked-out, well-dressed
+      children&mdash;very clever, very precocious&mdash;but children still.
+      Their whinings, and their sentimentalities, and their egotism, and their
+      vanity, cannot interest masculine beings who know what life and its stern
+      objects are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your brother-in-law,&rdquo; said Maltravers with a slight smile, &ldquo;must find in
+      you a discouraging censor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My poor Castruccio,&rdquo; replied De Montaigne, with a half-sigh; &ldquo;he is one
+      of those victims whom I believe to be more common than we dream of&mdash;men
+      whose aspirations are above their powers. I agree with a great German
+      writer, that in the first walks of Art no man has a right to enter, unless
+      he is convinced that he has strength and speed for the goal. Castruccio
+      might be an amiable member of society, nay, an able and useful man, if he
+      would apply the powers he possesses to the rewards they may obtain. He has
+      talent enough to win him reputation in any profession but that of a poet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But authors who obtain immortality are not always first-rate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;First-rate in their way, I suspect; even if that way be false or trivial.
+      They must be connected with the <i>history</i> of their literature; you
+      must be able to say of them, &lsquo;In this school, be it bad or good, they
+      exerted such and such an influence;&rsquo; in a word, they must form a link in
+      the great chain of a nation&rsquo;s authors, which may be afterwards forgotten
+      by the superficial, but without which the chain would be incomplete. And
+      thus, if not first-rate for all time, they have been first-rate in their
+      own day. But Castruccio is only the echo of others&mdash;he can neither
+      found a school nor ruin one. Yet this&rdquo; (again added De Montaigne after a
+      pause)&mdash;&ldquo;this melancholy malady in my brother-in-law would cure
+      itself, perhaps, if he were not Italian. In your animated and bustling
+      country, after sufficient disappointment as a poet, he would glide into
+      some other calling, and his vanity and craving for effect would find a
+      rational and manly outlet. But in Italy, what can a clever man do, if he
+      is not a poet or a robber? If he love his country, that crime is enough to
+      unfit him for civil employment, and his mind cannot stir a step in the
+      bold channels of speculation without falling foul of the Austrian or the
+      Pope. No; the best I can hope for Castruccio is, that he will end in an
+      antiquary, and dispute about ruins with the Romans. Better that than
+      mediocre poetry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers was silent and thoughtful. Strange to say, De Montaigne&rsquo;s views
+      did not discourage his own new and secret ardour for intellectual
+      triumphs; not because he felt that he was now able to achieve them, but
+      because he felt the iron of his own nature, and knew that a man who has
+      iron in his nature must ultimately hit upon some way of shaping the metal
+      into use.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The host and guest were now joined by Castruccio himself&mdash;silent and
+      gloomy as indeed he usually was, especially in the presence of De
+      Montaigne, with whom he felt his &ldquo;self-love&rdquo; wounded; for though he longed
+      to despise his hard brother-in-law, the young poet was compelled to
+      acknowledge that De Montaigne was not a man to be despised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers dined with the De Montaignes, and spent the evening with them.
+      He could not but observe that Castruccio, who affected in his verses the
+      softest sentiments&mdash;who was, indeed, by original nature, tender and
+      gentle&mdash;had become so completely warped by that worst of all mental
+      vices&mdash;the eternally pondering on his own excellences, talents,
+      mortifications, and ill-usage, that he never contributed to the
+      gratification of those around him; he had none of the little arts of
+      social benevolence, none of the playful youth of disposition which usually
+      belongs to the good-hearted, and for which men of a master-genius, however
+      elevated their studies, however stern or reserved to the vulgar world, are
+      commonly noticeable amidst the friends they love or in the home they
+      adorn. Occupied with one dream, centred in self, the young Italian was
+      sullen and morose to all who did not sympathise with his own morbid
+      fancies. From the children&mdash;the sister&mdash;the friend&mdash;the
+      whole living earth, he fled to a poem on Solitude, or stanzas upon Fame.
+      Maltravers said to himself, &ldquo;I will never be an author&mdash;I will never
+      sigh for renown&mdash;if I am to purchase shadows at such a price!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;It cannot be too deeply impressed on the mind, that application
+  is the price to be paid for mental acquisitions, and that it is
+  as absurd to expect them without it as to hope for a harvest
+  where we have not sown the seed.
+
+ &ldquo;In everything we do, we may be possibly laying a train of
+  consequences, the operation of which may terminate only with
+  our existence.&rdquo;
+
+   BAILEY: <i>Essays on the Formation and Publication of Opinions</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      TIME passed, and autumn was far advanced towards winter; still Maltravers
+      lingered at Como. He saw little of any other family than that of the De
+      Montaignes, and the greater part of his time was necessarily spent alone.
+      His occupation continued to be that of making experiments of his own
+      powers, and these gradually became bolder and more comprehensive. He took
+      care, however, not to show his &ldquo;Diversions of Como&rdquo; to his new friends: he
+      wanted no audience&mdash;he dreamt of no Public; he desired merely to
+      practise his own mind. He became aware, of his own accord, as he
+      proceeded, that a man can neither study with such depth, nor compose with
+      much art, unless he has some definite object before him; in the first,
+      some one branch of knowledge to master; in the last, some one conception
+      to work out. Maltravers fell back upon his boyish passion for metaphysical
+      speculation; but with what different results did he now wrestle with the
+      subtle schoolmen, now that he had practically known mankind. How
+      insensibly new lights broke in upon him, as he threaded the labyrinth of
+      cause and effect, by which we seek to arrive at that curious and biform
+      monster&mdash;our own nature. His mind became saturated, as it were, with
+      these profound studies and meditations; and when at length he paused from
+      them, he felt as if he had not been living in solitude, but had gone
+      through a process of action in the busy world: so much juster, so much
+      clearer, had become his knowledge of himself and others. But though these
+      researches coloured, they did not limit his intellectual pursuits. Poetry
+      and the lighter letters became to him not merely a relaxation, but a
+      critical and thoughtful study. He delighted to penetrate into the causes
+      that have made the airy webs spun by men&rsquo;s fancies so permanent and
+      powerful in their influence over the hard, work-day world. And what a
+      lovely scene&mdash;what a sky&mdash;what an air wherein to commence the
+      projects of that ambition which seeks to establish an empire in the hearts
+      and memories of mankind! I believe it has a great effect on the future
+      labours of a writer,&mdash;the place where he first dreams that it is his
+      destiny to write!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From these pursuits Ernest was aroused by another letter from Cleveland.
+      His kind friend had been disappointed and vexed that Maltravers did not
+      follow his advice, and return to England. He had shown his displeasure by
+      not answering Ernest&rsquo;s letter of excuses; but lately he had been seized
+      with a dangerous illness which reduced him to the brink of the grave; and
+      with a heart softened by the exhaustion of the frame, he now wrote in the
+      first moments of convalescence to Maltravers, informing him of his attack
+      and danger, and once more urging him to return. The thought that Cleveland&mdash;the
+      dear, kind gentle guardian of his youth&mdash;had been near unto death,
+      that he might never more have hung upon that fostering hand, nor replied
+      to that paternal voice, smote Ernest with terror and remorse. He resolved
+      instantly to return to England, and made his preparations accordingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went to take leave of the De Montaignes. Teresa was trying to teach her
+      first-born to read; and seated by the open window of the villa, in her
+      neat, not precise, <i>dishabille</i>&mdash;with the little boy&rsquo;s delicate,
+      yet bold and healthy countenance looking up fearlessly at hers, while she
+      was endeavouring to initiate him&mdash;half gravely, half laughingly&mdash;into
+      the mysteries of monosyllables, the pretty boy and the fair young mother
+      made a delightful picture. De Montaigne was reading the Essays of his
+      celebrated namesake, in whom he boasted, I know not with what justice, to
+      claim an ancestor. From time to time he looked from the page to take a
+      glance at the progress of his heir, and keep up with the march of
+      intellect. But he did not interfere with the maternal lecture; he was wise
+      enough to know that there is a kind of sympathy between a child and a
+      mother, which is worth all the grave superiority of a father in making
+      learning palatable to young years. He was far too clever a man not to
+      despise all the systems of forcing infants under knowledge-frames, which
+      are the present fashion. He knew that philosophers never made a greater
+      mistake than in insisting so much upon beginning abstract education from
+      the cradle. It is quite enough to attend to an infant&rsquo;s temper, and
+      correct that cursed predilection for telling fibs which falsifies all Dr.
+      Reid&rsquo;s absurd theory about innate propensities to truth, and makes the
+      prevailing epidemic of the nursery. Above all, what advantage ever
+      compensates for hurting a child&rsquo;s health or breaking his spirit? Never let
+      him learn, more than you can help it, the crushing bitterness of fear. A
+      bold child who looks you in the face, speaks the truth, and shames the
+      devil; that is the stuff of which to make good and brave&mdash;ay, and
+      wise men!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers entered, unannounced, into this charming family party, and
+      stood unobserved for a few moments, by the open door. The little pupil was
+      the first to perceive him, and, forgetful of monosyllables, ran to greet
+      him; for Maltravers, though gentle rather than gay, was a favourite with
+      children, and his fair, calm, gracious countenance did more for him with
+      them than if, like Goldsmith&rsquo;s Burchell, his pockets had been filled with
+      gingerbread and apples. &ldquo;Ah, fie on you, Mr. Maltravers!&rdquo; cried Teresa,
+      rising; &ldquo;you have blown away all the characters I have been endeavouring
+      this last hour to imprint upon sand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not so, Signora,&rdquo; said Maltravers, seating himself, and placing the child
+      on his knee; &ldquo;my young friend will set to work again with a greater gusto
+      after this little break in upon his labours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will stay with us all day, I hope?&rdquo; said De Montaigne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed,&rdquo; said Maltravers, &ldquo;I am come to ask permission to do so, for
+      to-morrow I depart for England.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it possible?&rdquo; cried Teresa. &ldquo;How sudden! How we shall miss you! Oh!
+      don&rsquo;t go. But perhaps you have bad news from England?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have news that summon me hence,&rdquo; replied Maltravers; &ldquo;my guardian and
+      second father has been dangerously ill. I am uneasy about him, and
+      reproach myself for having forgotten him so long in your seductive
+      society.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am really sorry to lose you,&rdquo; said De Montaigne, with greater warmth in
+      his tone than in his words. &ldquo;I hope heartily we shall meet again soon: you
+      will come, perhaps, to Paris?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably,&rdquo; said Maltravers; &ldquo;and you, perhaps, to England?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, how I should like it!&rdquo; exclaimed Teresa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you would not,&rdquo; said her husband; &ldquo;you would not like England at all;
+      you would call it <i>triste</i> beyond measure. It is one of those
+      countries of which a native should be proud, but which has no amusement
+      for a stranger, precisely because full of such serious and stirring
+      occupations to the citizens. The pleasantest countries for strangers are
+      the worst countries for natives (witness Italy), and <i>vice versa</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Teresa shook her dark curls, and would not be convinced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And where is Castruccio?&rdquo; asked Maltravers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In his boat on the lake,&rdquo; replied Teresa. &ldquo;He will be inconsolable at
+      your departure: you are the only person he can understand, or who
+      understand him; the only person in Italy&mdash;I had almost said in the
+      whole world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, we shall meet at dinner,&rdquo; said Ernest; &ldquo;meanwhile let me prevail on
+      you to accompany me to the <i>Pliniana</i>. I wish to say farewell to that
+      crystal spring.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Teresa, delighted at any excursion, readily consented.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I too, mamma,&rdquo; cried the child; &ldquo;and my little sister?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, certainly,&rdquo; said Maltravers, speaking for the parents.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So the party was soon ready, and they pushed off in the clear genial
+      noontide (for November in Italy is as early as September in the North)
+      across the sparkling and dimpled waters. The children prattled, and the
+      grown-up people talked on a thousand matters. It was a pleasant day, that
+      last day at Como! For the farewells of friendship have indeed something of
+      the melancholy, but not the anguish, of those of love. Perhaps it would be
+      better if we could get rid of love altogether. Life would go on smoother
+      and happier without it. Friendship is the wine of existence, but love is
+      the dram-drinking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they returned, they found Castruccio seated on the lawn. He did not
+      appear so much dejected at the prospect of Ernest&rsquo;s departure as Teresa
+      had anticipated; for Castruccio Cesarini was a very jealous man, and he
+      had lately been chagrined and discontented with seeing the delight that
+      the De Montaignes took in Ernest&rsquo;s society.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why is this?&rdquo; he often asked himself; &ldquo;why are they more pleased with
+      this stranger&rsquo;s society than mine? My ideas are as fresh, as original; I
+      have as much genius, yet even my dry brother-in-law allows <i>his</i>
+      talents, and predicts that <i>he</i> will be an eminent man! while <i>I</i>&mdash;No!&mdash;one
+      is not a prophet in one&rsquo;s own country!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Unhappy man! his mind bore all the rank weeds of the morbid poetical
+      character, and the weeds choked up the flowers that the soil, properly
+      cultivated, should alone bear. Yet that crisis in life awaited Castruccio,
+      in which a sensitive and poetical man is made or marred; the crisis in
+      which a sentiment is replaced by the passions&mdash;in which love for some
+      real object gathers the scattered rays of the heart into a focus: out of
+      that ordeal he might pass a purer and manlier being&mdash;so Maltravers
+      often hoped. Maltravers then little thought how closely connected with his
+      own fate was to be that passage in the history of the Italian. Castruccio
+      contrived to take Maltravers aside, and as he led the Englishman through
+      the wood that backed the mansion, he said, with some embarrassment, &ldquo;You
+      go, I suppose, to London?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall pass through it&mdash;can I execute any commission for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes; my poems!&mdash;I think of publishing them in England: your
+      aristocracy cultivate the Italian letters; and, perhaps, I may be read by
+      the fair and noble&mdash;<i>that</i> is the proper audience of poets. For
+      the vulgar herd&mdash;I disdain it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Castruccio, I will undertake to see your poems published in
+      London, if you wish it; but do not be sanguine. In England we read little
+      poetry, even in our own language, and we are shamefully indifferent to
+      foreign literature.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, foreign literature generally, and you are right; but my poems are of
+      another kind. They must command attention in a polished and intelligent
+      circle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well! let the experiment be tried; you can let me have the poems when we
+      part.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thank you,&rdquo; said Castruccio, in a joyous tone, pressing his friend&rsquo;s
+      hand; and for the rest of that evening, he seemed an altered being; he
+      even caressed the children, and did not sneer at the grave conversation of
+      his brother-in-law.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Maltravers rose to depart, Castruccio gave him the packet; and then,
+      utterly engrossed with his own imagined futurity of fame, vanished from
+      the room to indulge his reveries. He cared no longer for Maltravers&mdash;he
+      had put him to use&mdash;he could not be sorry for his departure, for that
+      departure was the Avatar of His appearance to a new world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A small dull rain was falling, though, at intervals, the stars broke
+      through the unsettled clouds, and Teresa did not therefore venture from
+      the house; she presented her smooth cheek to the young guest to salute,
+      pressed him by the hand, and bade him adieu with tears in her eyes. &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;
+       said she, &ldquo;when we meet again I hope you will be married&mdash;I shall
+      love your wife dearly. There is no happiness like marriage and home!&rdquo; and
+      she looked with ingenuous tenderness at De Montaigne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers sighed;&mdash;his thoughts flew back to Alice. Where now was
+      that lone and friendless girl, whose innocent love had once brightened a
+      home for <i>him</i>? He answered by a vague and mechanical commonplace,
+      and quitted the room with De Montaigne, who insisted on seeing him depart.
+      As they neared the lake, De Montaigne broke the silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Maltravers,&rdquo; he said, with a serious and thoughtful affection in
+      his voice, &ldquo;we may not meet again for years. I have a warm interest in
+      your happiness and career&mdash;yes, <i>career</i>&mdash;I repeat the
+      word. I do not habitually seek to inspire young men with ambition. Enough
+      for most of them to be good and honourable citizens. But in your case it
+      is different. I see in you the earnest and meditative, not rash and
+      overweening youth, which is usually productive of a distinguished manhood.
+      Your mind is not yet settled, it is true; but it is fast becoming clear
+      and mellow from the first ferment of boyish dreams and passions. You have
+      everything in your favour,&mdash;competence, birth, connections; and,
+      above all, you are an Englishman! You have a mighty stage, on which, it is
+      true, you cannot establish a footing without merit and without labour&mdash;so
+      much the better; in which strong and resolute rivals will urge you on to
+      emulation, and then competition will task your keenest powers. Think what
+      a glorious fate it is, to have an influence on the vast, but ever-growing
+      mind of such a country,&mdash;to feel, when you retire from the busy
+      scene, that you have played an unforgotten part&mdash;that you have been
+      the medium, under God&rsquo;s great will, of circulating new ideas throughout
+      the world&mdash;of upholding the glorious priesthood of the Honest and the
+      Beautiful. This is the true ambition; the desire of mere personal
+      notoriety is vanity, not ambition. Do not then be lukewarm or supine. The
+      trait I have observed in you,&rdquo; added the Frenchman, with a smile, &ldquo;most
+      prejudicial to your chances of distinction is, that you are <i>too</i>
+      philosophical, too apt to <i>cui bono</i> all the exertions that interfere
+      with the indolence of cultivated leisure. And you must not suppose,
+      Maltravers, that an active career will be a path of roses. At present you
+      have no enemies; but the moment you attempt distinction, you will be
+      abused; calumniated, reviled. You will be shocked at the wrath you excite,
+      and sigh for your old obscurity, and consider, as Franklin has it, that
+      &lsquo;you have paid too dear for your whistle.&rsquo; But in return for individual
+      enemies, what a noble recompense to have made the Public itself your
+      friend; perhaps even Posterity your familiar! Besides,&rdquo; added De
+      Montaigne, with almost a religious solemnity in his voice, &ldquo;there is a
+      conscience of the head as well as of the heart, and in old age we feel as
+      much remorse if we have wasted our natural talents as if we had perverted
+      our natural virtues. The profound and exultant satisfaction with which a
+      man who knows that he has not lived in vain&mdash;that he has entailed on
+      the world an heirloom of instruction or delight&mdash;looks back upon
+      departed struggles, is one of the happiest emotions of which the
+      conscience can be capable. What, indeed, are the petty faults we commit as
+      individuals, affecting but a narrow circle, ceasing with our own lives, to
+      the incalculable and everlasting good we may produce as public men by one
+      book or by one law? Depend upon it that the Almighty, who sums up all the
+      good and all the evil done by His creatures in a just balance, will not
+      judge the august benefactors of the world with the same severity as those
+      drones of society, who have no great services to show in the eternal
+      ledger, as a set-off to the indulgence of their small vices. These things
+      rightly considered, Maltravers, you will have every inducement that can
+      tempt a lofty mind and a pure ambition to awaken from the voluptuous
+      indolence of the literary Sybarite, and contend worthily in the world&rsquo;s
+      wide Altis for a great prize.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers never before felt so flattered&mdash;so stirred into high
+      resolves. The stately eloquence, the fervid encouragement of this man,
+      usually so cold and fastidious, roused him like the sound of a trumpet. He
+      stopped short, his breath heaved thick, his cheek flushed. &ldquo;De Montaigne,&rdquo;
+       said he, &ldquo;your words have cleared away a thousand doubts and scruples&mdash;they
+      have gone right to my heart. For the first time I understand what fame is&mdash;what
+      the object, and what the reward of labour! Visions, hopes, aspirations I
+      may have had before&mdash;for months a new spirit has been fluttering
+      within me. I have felt the wings breaking from the shell, but all was
+      confused, dim, uncertain. I doubted the wisdom of effort, with life so
+      short, and the pleasures of youth so sweet. I now look no longer on life
+      but as a part of the eternity to which I <i>feel</i> we were born; and I
+      recognise the solemn truth that our objects, to be worthy life, should be
+      worthy of creatures in whom the living principle never is extinct.
+      Farewell! come joy or sorrow, failure or success, I will struggle to
+      deserve your friendship.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers sprang into his boat, and the shades of night soon snatched him
+      from the lingering gaze of De Montaigne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      BOOK IV.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Strange is the land that holds thee,&mdash;and thy couch
+  is widow&rsquo;d of the loved one.&rdquo;
+    EURIP. <i>Med.</i> 442
+    Translation by R. G.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+        &ldquo;I, alas!
+  Have lived but on this earth a few sad years;
+  And so my lot was ordered, that a father
+  First turned the moments of awakening life
+  To drops, each poisoning youth&rsquo;s sweet hope.&rdquo;
+    &ldquo;<i>Cenci</i>.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      FROM accompanying Maltravers along the noiseless progress of mental
+      education, we are now called awhile to cast our glances back at the ruder
+      and harsher ordeal which Alice Darvil was ordained to pass. Along her path
+      poetry shed no flowers, nor were her lonely steps towards the distant
+      shrine at which her pilgrimage found its rest lighted by the mystic lamp
+      of science, or guided by the thousand stars which are never dim in the
+      heavens for those favoured eyes from which genius and fancy have removed
+      many of the films of clay. Not along the aerial and exalted ways that wind
+      far above the homes and business of common men&mdash;the solitary Alps of
+      Spiritual Philosophy&mdash;wandered the desolate steps of the child of
+      poverty and sorrow. On the beaten and rugged highways of common life, with
+      a weary heart, and with bleeding feet, she went her melancholy course. But
+      the goal which is the great secret of life, the <i>summum arcanum</i> of
+      all philosophy, whether the Practical or the Ideal, was, perhaps, no less
+      attainable for that humble girl than for the elastic step and aspiring
+      heart of him who thirsted after the Great, and almost believed in the
+      Impossible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We return to that dismal night in which Alice was torn from the roof of
+      her lover. It was long before she recovered her consciousness of what had
+      passed, and gained a full perception of the fearful revolution which had
+      taken place in her destinies. It was then a grey and dreary morning
+      twilight; and the rude but covered vehicle which bore her was rolling
+      along the deep ruts of an unfrequented road, winding among the uninclosed
+      and mountainous wastes that, in England, usually betoken the neighbourhood
+      of the sea. With a shudder Alice looked round: Walters, her father&rsquo;s
+      accomplice, lay extended at her feet, and his heavy breathing showed that
+      he was fast asleep. Darvil himself was urging on the jaded and sorry
+      horse, and his broad back was turned towards Alice; the rain, from which,
+      in his position, he was but ill protected by the awning, dripped dismally
+      from his slouched hat; and now, as he turned round, and his sinister and
+      gloomy gaze rested upon the face of Alice, his bad countenance, rendered
+      more haggard by the cold raw light of the cheerless dawn, completed the
+      hideous picture of unveiled and ruffianly wretchedness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ho, ho! Alley, so you are come to your senses,&rdquo; said he, with a kind of
+      joyless grin. &ldquo;I am glad of it, for I can have no fainting fine ladies
+      with me. You have had a long holiday, Alley; you must now learn once more
+      to work for your poor father. Ah, you have been d&mdash;&mdash;d sly; but
+      never mind the past&mdash;I forgive it. You must not run away again
+      without my leave; if you are fond of sweethearts, I won&rsquo;t balk you&mdash;but
+      your old father must go shares, Alley.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alice could hear no more: she covered her face with the cloak that had
+      been thrown about her, and though she did not faint, her senses seemed to
+      be locked and paralysed. By and by Walters woke, and the two men, heedless
+      of her presence, conversed upon their plans. By degrees she recovered
+      sufficient self-possession to listen, in the instinctive hope that some
+      plan of escape might be suggested to her. But from what she could gather
+      of the incoherent and various projects they discussed, one after another&mdash;disputing
+      upon each with frightful oaths and scarce intelligible slang, she could
+      only learn that it was resolved at all events to leave the district in
+      which they were&mdash;but whither seemed yet all undecided. The cart
+      halted at last at a miserable-looking hut, which the signpost announced to
+      be an inn that afforded good accommodation to travellers; to which
+      announcement was annexed the following epigrammatic distich:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Old Tom, he is the best of gin;
+  Drink him once, and you&rsquo;ll drink him <i>agin</i>!&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      The hovel stood so remote from all other habitations, and the waste around
+      was so bare of trees, and even shrubs, that Alice saw with despair that
+      all hope of flight in such a place would be indeed a chimera. But to make
+      assurance doubly sure, Darvil himself, lifting her from the cart,
+      conducted her up a broken and unlighted staircase, into a sort of loft
+      rather than a room, and, rudely pushing her in, turned the key upon her,
+      and descended. The weather was cold, the livid damps hung upon the
+      distained walls, and there was neither fire nor hearth; but thinly clad as
+      she was&mdash;her cloak and shawl her principal covering&mdash;she did not
+      feel the cold, for her heart was more chilly than the airs of heaven. At
+      noon an old woman brought her some food, which, consisting of fish and
+      poached game, was better than might have been expected in such a place,
+      and what would have been deemed a feast under her father&rsquo;s roof. With an
+      inviting leer, the crone pointed to a pewter measure of raw spirits that
+      accompanied the viands, and assured her, in a cracked and maudlin voice,
+      that &ldquo;&lsquo;Old Tom&rsquo; was a kinder friend than any of the young fellers!&rdquo; This
+      intrusion ended, Alice was again left alone till dusk, when Darvil entered
+      with a bundle of clothes, such as are worn by the peasants of that
+      primitive district of England.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, Alley,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;put on this warm toggery; finery won&rsquo;t do now.
+      We must leave no scent in the track; the hounds are after us, my little
+      blowen. Here&rsquo;s a nice stuff gown for you, and a red cloak that would
+      frighten a turkey-cock. As to the other cloak and shawl, don&rsquo;t be afraid;
+      they sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t go to the pop-shop, but we&rsquo;ll take care of them against we
+      get to some large town where there are young fellows with blunt in their
+      pockets; for you seem to have already found out that your face is your
+      fortune, Alley. Come, make haste, we must be starting. I shall come up for
+      you in ten minutes. Pish! don&rsquo;t be faint hearted; here, take &lsquo;Old Tom&rsquo;&mdash;take
+      it, I say. What, you won&rsquo;t? Well, here&rsquo;s to your health, and a better
+      taste to you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And now, as the door once more closed upon Darvil, tears for the first
+      time came to the relief of Alice. It was a woman&rsquo;s weakness that procured
+      for her that woman&rsquo;s luxury. Those garments&mdash;they were Ernest&rsquo;s gift&mdash;Ernest&rsquo;s
+      taste; they were like the last relic of that delicious life which now
+      seemed to have fled for ever. All traces of that life&mdash;of him, the
+      loving, the protecting, the adored; all trace of herself, as she had been
+      re-created by love, was to be lost to her for ever. It was (as she had
+      read somewhere, in the little elementary volumes that bounded her historic
+      lore) like that last fatal ceremony in which those condemned for life to
+      the mines of Siberia are clothed with the slave&rsquo;s livery, their past name
+      and record eternally blotted out, and thrust into the vast wastes, from
+      which even the mercy of despotism, should it ever re-awaken, cannot recall
+      them; for all evidence of them&mdash;all individuality&mdash;all mark to
+      distinguish them from the universal herd, is expunged from the world&rsquo;s
+      calendar. She was still sobbing in vehement and unrestrained passion, when
+      Darvil re-entered. &ldquo;What, not dressed yet?&rdquo; he exclaimed, in a voice of
+      impatient rage; &ldquo;hark ye, this won&rsquo;t do. If in two minutes you are not
+      ready, I&rsquo;ll send up John Walters to help you; and he is a rough hand, I
+      can tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This threat recalled Alice, to herself. &ldquo;I will do as you wish,&rdquo; said she
+      meekly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, be quick,&rdquo; said Darvil; &ldquo;they are now putting the horse to.
+      And mark me, girl, your father is running away from the gallows, and that
+      thought does not make a man stand upon scruples. If you once attempt to
+      give me the slip, or do or say anything that can bring the bulkies upon us&mdash;by
+      the devil in hell!&mdash;if, indeed, there be hell or devil&mdash;my knife
+      shall become better acquainted with that throat&mdash;so look to it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And this was the father&mdash;this the condition&mdash;of her whose ear
+      had for months drunk no other sound than the whispers of flattering love&mdash;the
+      murmurs of Passion from the lips of Poetry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They continued their journey till midnight; they then arrived at an inn,
+      little different from the last; but here Alice was no longer consigned to
+      solitude. In a long room, reeking with smoke, sat from twenty to thirty
+      ruffians before a table on which mugs and vessels of strong potations were
+      formidably interspersed with sabres and pistols. They received Walters and
+      Darvil with a shout of welcome, and would have crowded somewhat
+      unceremoniously round Alice, if her father, whose well-known desperate and
+      brutal ferocity made him a man to be respected in such an assembly, had
+      not said, sternly, &ldquo;Hands off, messmates, and make way by the fire for my
+      little girl&mdash;she is meat for your masters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So saying, he pushed Alice down into a huge chair in the chimney-nook,
+      and, seating himself near her, at the end of the table, hastened to turn
+      the conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Captain,&rdquo; said he, addressing a small thin man at the head of the
+      table, &ldquo;I and Walters have fairly cut and run&mdash;the land has a bad air
+      for us, and we now want the sea-breeze to cure the rope fever. So, knowing
+      this was your night, we have crowded sail, and here we are. You must give
+      the girl there a lift, though I know you don&rsquo;t like such lumber, and we&rsquo;ll
+      run ashore as soon as we can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She seems a quiet little body,&rdquo; replied the captain; &ldquo;and we would do
+      more than that to oblige an old friend like you. In half an hour Oliver*
+      puts on his nightcap, and we must then be off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      * The moon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The sooner the better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The men now appeared to forget the presence of Alice, who sat faint with
+      fatigue and exhaustion, for she had been too sick at heart to touch the
+      food brought to her at their previous halting-place, gazing abstractedly
+      upon the fire. Her father, before their departure, made her swallow some
+      morsels of sea-biscuit, though each seemed to choke her; and then, wrapped
+      in a thick boat-cloak, she was placed in a small well-built cutter; and as
+      the sea-winds whistled round her, the present cold and the past fatigues
+      lulled her miserable heart into the arms of the charitable Sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;You are once more a free woman;
+  Here I discharge your bonds.&rdquo;
+    <i>The Custom of the Country</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      AND many were thy trials, poor child; many that, were this book to
+      germinate into volumes more numerous than monk ever composed upon the
+      lives of saint or martyr (though a hundred volumes contained the record of
+      two years only in the life of St. Anthony), it would be impossible to
+      describe! We may talk of the fidelity of books, but no man ever wrote even
+      his own biography without being compelled to omit at least nine-tenths of
+      the most important materials. What are three&mdash;what six volumes? We
+      live six volumes in a day! Thought, emotion, joy, sorrow, hope, fear, how
+      prolix would they be if they might each tell their hourly tale! But man&rsquo;s
+      life itself is a brief epitome of that which is infinite and everlasting;
+      and his most accurate confessions are a miserable abridgment of a hurried
+      and confused compendium!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was about three months, or more, from the night in which Alice wept
+      herself to sleep amongst those wild companions, when she contrived to
+      escape from her father&rsquo;s vigilant eye. They were then on the coast of
+      Ireland. Darvil had separated himself from Walters&mdash;from his
+      seafaring companions: he had run through the greater part of the money his
+      crimes had got together; he began seriously to attempt putting into
+      execution his horrible design of depending for support upon the sale of
+      his daughter. Now Alice might have been moulded into sinful purposes
+      before she knew Maltravers; but from that hour her very error made her
+      virtuous&mdash;she had comprehended, the moment she loved, what was meant
+      by female honour; and by a sudden revelation, she had purchased modesty,
+      delicacy of thought and soul, in the sacrifice of herself. Much of our
+      morality (prudent and right upon system) with respect to the first false
+      step of women, leads us, as we all know, into barbarous errors as to
+      individual exceptions. Where, from pure and confiding love, that first
+      false step has been taken, many a woman has been saved in after life from
+      a thousand temptations. The poor unfortunates who crowd our streets and
+      theatres have rarely, in the first instances, been corrupted by love; but
+      by poverty, and the contagion of circumstance and example. It is a
+      miserable cant phrase to call them the victims of seduction; they have
+      been the victims of hunger, of vanity, of curiosity, of evil <i>female</i>
+      counsels; but the seduction of love hardly ever conducts to a <i>life</i>
+      of vice. If a woman has once really loved, the beloved object makes an
+      impenetrable barrier between her and other men; their advances terrify and
+      revolt&mdash;she would rather die than be unfaithful even to a memory.
+      Though man love the sex, woman loves only the individual; and the more she
+      loves him, the more cold she is to the species. For the passion of woman
+      is in the sentiment&mdash;the fancy&mdash;the heart. It rarely has much to
+      do with the coarse images with which boys and old men&mdash;the
+      inexperienced and the worn-out&mdash;connect it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Alice, though her blood ran cold at her terrible father&rsquo;s language,
+      saw in his very design the prospect of escape. In an hour of drunkenness
+      he thrust her from the house, and stationed himself to watch her&mdash;it
+      was in the city of Cork. She formed her resolution instantly&mdash;turned
+      up a narrow street, and fled at full speed. Darvil endeavoured in vain to
+      keep pace with her&mdash;his eyes dizzy, his steps reeling with
+      intoxication. She heard his last curse dying from a distance on the air,
+      and her fear winged her steps: she paused at last, and found herself on
+      the outskirts of the town. She paused, overcome, and deadly faint; and
+      then, for the first time, she felt that a strange and new life was
+      stirring within her own. She had long since known that she bore in her
+      womb the unborn offspring of Maltravers, and that knowledge had made her
+      struggle and live on. But now, the embryo had quickened into being&mdash;it
+      moved&mdash;it appealed to her, a&mdash;thing unseen, unknown; but still
+      it was a living creature appealing to a mother! Oh, the thrill, half of
+      ineffable tenderness, half of mysterious terror, at that moment!&mdash;What
+      a new chapter in the life of a woman did it not announce:&mdash;Now, then,
+      she must be watchful over herself&mdash;must guard against fatigue&mdash;must
+      wrestle with despair. Solemn was the trust committed to her&mdash;the life
+      of another&mdash;the child of the Adored. It was a summer night&mdash;she
+      sat on a rude stone, the city on one side, with its lights and lamps;&mdash;the
+      whitened fields beyond, with the moon and the stars above; and <i>above</i>
+      she raised her streaming eyes, and she thought that God, the Protector,
+      smiled upon her from the face of the sweet skies. So, after a pause and a
+      silent prayer, she rose and resumed her way. When she was wearied she
+      crept into a shed in a farmyard, and slept, for the first time for weeks,
+      the calm sleep of security and hope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;How like a prodigal doth she return,
+  With over-weathered ribs and ragged sails.&rdquo;
+    <i>Merchant of Venice</i>.
+
+ &ldquo;<i>Mer.</i> What are these?
+  <i>Uncle.</i> The tenants.&rdquo;
+    BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.&mdash;<i>Wit without Money</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      IT was just two years from the night in which Alice had been torn from the
+      cottage: and at that time Maltravers was wandering amongst the ruins of
+      ancient Egypt, when, upon the very lawn where Alice and her lover had so
+      often loitered hand in hand, a gay party of children and young people were
+      assembled. The cottage had been purchased by an opulent and retired
+      manufacturer. He had raised the low thatched roof another story high&mdash;and
+      blue slate had replaced the thatch&mdash;and the pretty verandahs
+      overgrown with creepers had been taken down because Mrs. Hobbs thought
+      they gave the rooms a dull look; and the little rustic doorway had been
+      replaced by four Ionic pillars in stucco; and a new dining-room,
+      twenty-two feet by eighteen, had been built out at one wing, and a new
+      drawing-room had been built over the new dining-room. And the poor little
+      cottage looked quite grand and villa-like. The fountain had been taken
+      away, because it made the house damp; and there was such a broad
+      carriage-drive from the gate to the house! The gate was no longer the
+      modest green wooden gate, ever ajar with its easy latch; but a tall,
+      cast-iron, well-locked gate, between two pillars to match the porch. And
+      on one of the gates was a brass plate, on which was graven, &ldquo;Hobbs&rsquo; Lodge&mdash;Ring
+      the bell.&rdquo; The lesser Hobbses and the bigger Hobbses were all on the lawn&mdash;many
+      of them fresh from school&mdash;for it was the half-holiday of a Saturday
+      afternoon. There was mirth, and noise, and shouting and whooping, and the
+      respectable old couple looked calmly on; Hobbs the father smoking his pipe
+      (alas, it was not the dear meerschaum); Hobbs the mother talking to her
+      eldest daughter (a fine young woman, three months married, for love, to a
+      poor man), upon the proper number of days that a leg of mutton (weight ten
+      pounds) should be made to last. &ldquo;Always, my dear, have large joints, they
+      are much the most saving. Let me see&mdash;what a noise the boys do make!
+      No, my love, the ball&rsquo;s not here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mamma, it is under your petticoats.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;La, child, how naughty you are!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Holla, you sir! it&rsquo;s my turn to go in now. Biddy, wait,&mdash;girls have
+      no innings&mdash;girls only fag out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bob, you cheat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pa, Ned says I cheat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very likely, my dear, you are to be a lawyer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where was I, my dear?&rdquo; resumed Mrs. Hobbs, resettling herself, and
+      readjusting the invaded petticoats. &ldquo;Oh, about the leg of mutton!&mdash;yes,
+      large joints are the best&mdash;the second day a nice hash, with
+      dumplings; the third, broil the bone&mdash;your husband is sure to like
+      broiled bones!&mdash;and then keep the scraps for Saturday&rsquo;s pie;&mdash;you
+      know, my dear, your father and I were worse off than you when we began.
+      But now we have everything that is handsome about us&mdash;nothing like
+      management. Saturday pies are very nice things, and then you start clear
+      with your joint on Sunday. A good wife like you should never neglect the
+      Saturday&rsquo;s pie!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the bride, mournfully; &ldquo;but Mr. Tiddy does not like pies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not like pies! that very odd&mdash;Mr. Hobbs likes pies&mdash;perhaps you
+      don&rsquo;t have the crust made thick eno&rsquo;. How somever, you can make it up to
+      him with a pudding. A wife should always study her husband&rsquo;s tastes&mdash;what
+      is a man&rsquo;s home without love? Still a husband ought not to be aggravating,
+      and dislike pie on a Saturday!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Holla! I say, ma, do you see that &lsquo;ere gipsy? I shall go and have my
+      fortune told.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I&mdash;and I!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lor, if there ben&rsquo;t a tramper!&rdquo; cried Mr. Hobbs, rising indignantly;
+      &ldquo;what can the parish be about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The object of these latter remarks, filial and paternal, was a young woman
+      in a worn, threadbare cloak, with her face pressed to the openwork of the
+      gate, and looking wistfully&mdash;oh, how wistfully!&mdash;within. The
+      children eagerly ran up to her, but they involuntarily slackened their
+      steps when they drew near, for she was evidently not what they had taken
+      her for. No gipsy hues darkened the pale, thin, delicate cheek&mdash;no
+      gipsy leer lurked in those large blue and streaming eyes&mdash;no gipsy
+      effrontery bronzed that candid and childish brow. As she thus pressed her
+      countenance with convulsive eagerness against the cold bars, the young
+      people caught the contagion of inexpressible and half-fearful sadness&mdash;they
+      approached almost respectfully&mdash;&ldquo;Do you want anything here?&rdquo; said the
+      eldest and boldest of the boys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I&mdash;surely this is Dale Cottage?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was Dale Cottage, it is Hobbs&rsquo; Lodge now; can&rsquo;t you read?&rdquo; said the
+      heir of the Hobbs&rsquo;s honours, losing, in contempt at the girl&rsquo;s ignorance,
+      his first impression of sympathy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And&mdash;and&mdash;Mr. Butler, is he gone too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor child! she spoke as if the cottage was gone, not improved; the Ionic
+      portico had no charm for her!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Butler!&mdash;no such person lives here. Pa, do you know where Mr. Butler
+      lives?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Pa was now moving up to the place of conference the slow artillery of his
+      fair round belly and portly calves. &ldquo;Butler, no&mdash;I know nothing of
+      such a name&mdash;no Mr. Butler lives here. Go along with you&mdash;ain&rsquo;t
+      you ashamed to beg?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No Mr. Butler!&rdquo; said the girl, gasping for breath, and clinging to the
+      gate for support. &ldquo;Are you sure, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure, yes!&mdash;what do you want with him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, papa, she looks faint!&rdquo; said one of the <i>girls</i> deprecatingly&mdash;&ldquo;do
+      let her have something to eat; I&rsquo;m sure she&rsquo;s hungry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Hobbs looked angry; he had often been taken in, and no rich man likes
+      beggars. Generally speaking, the rich man is in the right. But then Mr.
+      Hobbs turned to the suspected tramper&rsquo;s sorrowful face and then to his
+      fair pretty child&mdash;and his good angel whispered something to Mr.
+      Hobbs&rsquo;s heart&mdash;and he said, after a pause, &ldquo;Heaven forbid that we
+      should not feel for a poor fellow-creature not so well to do as ourselves.
+      Come in, my lass, and have a morsel to eat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl did not seem to hear him, and he repeated the invitation,
+      approaching to unlock the gate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; said she, then; &ldquo;no, I thank you. I could not come in now. I
+      could not eat here. But tell me, sir, I implore you, can you not even
+      guess where I may find Mr. Butler?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Butler!&rdquo; said Mrs. Hobbs, whom curiosity had now drawn to the spot. &ldquo;I
+      remember that was the name of the gentleman who hired the place, and was
+      robbed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Robbed!&rdquo; said Mr. Hobbs, falling back and relocking the gate&mdash;&ldquo;and
+      the new tea-pot just come home,&rdquo; he muttered inly. &ldquo;Come, be off, child&mdash;be
+      off; we know nothing of your Mr. Butlers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young woman looked wildly in his face, cast a hurried glance over the
+      altered spot, and then, with a kind of shiver, as if the wind had smitten
+      her delicate form too rudely, she drew her cloak more closely round her
+      shoulders, and without saying another word, moved away. The party looked
+      after her as, with trembling steps, she passed down the road, and all felt
+      that pang of shame which is common to the human heart at the sight of a
+      distress it has not sought to soothe. But this feeling vanished at once
+      from the breast of Mrs. and Mr. Hobbs, when they saw the girl stop where a
+      turn of the road brought the gate before her eyes; and for the first time,
+      they perceived, what the worn cloak had hitherto concealed, that the poor
+      young thing bore an infant in her arms. She halted, she gazed fondly back.
+      Even at that instant the despair of her eyes was visible; and then, as she
+      pressed her lips to the infant&rsquo;s brow, they heard a convulsive sob&mdash;they
+      saw her turn away, and she was gone!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I declare!&rdquo; said Mrs. Hobbs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;News for the parish,&rdquo; said Mr. Hobbs; &ldquo;and she so young too!&mdash;what a
+      shame!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The girls about here are very bad nowadays, Jenny,&rdquo; said the mother to
+      the bride.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see now why she wanted Mr. Butler,&rdquo; quoth Hobbs, with a knowing wink&mdash;&ldquo;the
+      slut has come to swear!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And it was for this that Alice had supported her strength&mdash;her
+      courage-during the sharp pangs of childbirth; during a severe and crushing
+      illness, which for months after her confinement had stretched her upon a
+      peasant&rsquo;s bed (the object of the rude but kindly charity of an Irish
+      shealing)&mdash;for this, day after day, she had whispered to herself, &ldquo;I
+      shall get well, and I will beg my way to the cottage, and find him there
+      still, and put my little one into his arms, and all will be bright again;&rdquo;&mdash;for
+      this, as soon as she could walk without aid, had she set out on foot from
+      the distant land; for this, almost with a dog&rsquo;s instinct (for she knew not
+      what way to turn&mdash;what county the cottage was placed in; she only
+      knew the name of the neighbouring town; and that, populous as it was,
+      sounded strange to the ears of those she asked; and she had often and
+      often been directed wrong),&mdash;for this, I say, almost with a dog&rsquo;s
+      faithful instinct, had she, in cold and heat, in hunger and in thirst,
+      tracked to her old master&rsquo;s home her desolate and lonely way! And thrice
+      had she over-fatigued herself&mdash;and thrice again been indebted to
+      humble pity for a bed whereon to lay a feverish and broken frame. And
+      once, too, her baby&mdash;her darling, her life of life, had been ill&mdash;had
+      been near unto death, and she could not stir till the infant (it was a
+      girl) was well again, and could smile in her face and crow. And thus many,
+      many months had elapsed, since the day she set out on her pilgrimage, to
+      that on which she found its goal. But never, save when the child was ill,
+      had she desponded or abated heart and hope. She should see him again, and
+      he would kiss her child. And now&mdash;no&mdash;I cannot paint the might
+      of that stunning blow! She knew not, she dreamed not, of the kind
+      precautions Maltravers had taken; and he had not sufficiently calculated
+      on her thorough ignorance of the world. How could she divine that the
+      magistrate, not a mile distant from her, could have told her all she
+      sought to know? Could she but have met the gardener&mdash;or the old
+      woman-servant&mdash;all would have been well! These last, indeed, she had
+      the forethought to ask for. But the woman was dead, and the gardener had
+      taken a strange service in some distant county. And so died her last gleam
+      of hope. If one person who remembered the search of Maltravers had but met
+      and recognised her! But she had been seen by so few&mdash;and now the
+      bright, fresh girl was so sadly altered! Her race was not yet run, and
+      many a sharp wind upon the mournful seas had the bark to brave before its
+      haven was found at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+        &ldquo;Patience and sorrow strove
+  Which should express her goodliest.&rdquo;&mdash;SHAKESPEARE.
+
+ &ldquo;Je <i>la</i> plains, je <i>la</i> blame, et je suis son appui.&rdquo; *-VOLTAIRE.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      * I pity her, I blame her, and am her support.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      AND now Alice felt that she was on the wide world alone, with her child&mdash;no
+      longer to be protected, but to protect; and after the first few days of
+      agony, a new spirit, not indeed of hope, but of endurance, passed within
+      her. Her solitary wanderings, with God her only guide, had tended greatly
+      to elevate and confirm her character. She felt a strong reliance on His
+      mysterious mercy&mdash;she felt, too, the responsibility of a mother.
+      Thrown for so many months upon her own resources, even for the bread of
+      life, her intellect was unconsciously sharpened, and a habit of patient
+      fortitude had strengthened a nature originally clinging and femininely
+      soft. She resolved to pass into some other county, for she could neither
+      bear the thoughts that haunted the neighbourhood around her, nor think,
+      without a loathing horror, of the possibility of her father&rsquo;s return.
+      Accordingly, one day, she renewed her wanderings&mdash;and after a week&rsquo;s
+      travel, arrived at a small village. Charity is so common in England, it so
+      spontaneously springs up everywhere, like the good seed by the roadside,
+      that she had rarely wanted the bare necessaries of existence. And her
+      humble manner, and sweet, well-tuned voice, so free from the professional
+      whine of mendicancy, had usually its charm for the sternest. So she
+      generally obtained enough to buy bread and a night&rsquo;s lodging, and, if
+      sometimes she failed, she could bear hunger, and was not afraid of
+      creeping into some shed, or, when by the sea-shore, even into some
+      sheltering cavern. Her child throve too&mdash;for God tempers the wind to
+      the shorn lamb! But now, so far as physical privation went, the worst was
+      over.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It so happened that as Alice was drawing herself wearily along to the
+      entrance of the village which was to bound her day&rsquo;s journey, she was met
+      by a lady, past middle age, in whose countenance compassion was so
+      visible, that Alice would not beg, for she had a strange delicacy or
+      pride, or whatever it may be called, and rather begged of the stern than
+      of those who looked kindly at her&mdash;she did not like to lower herself
+      in the eyes of the last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lady stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My poor girl, where are you going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where God pleases, madam,&rdquo; said Alice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph! and is that your own child?&mdash;you are almost a child
+      yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is mine, madam,&rdquo; said Alice, gazing fondly at the infant; &ldquo;it is my
+      all!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The lady&rsquo;s voice faltered. &ldquo;Are you married?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Married!&mdash;Oh, no, madam!&rdquo; replied Alice, innocently, yet without
+      blushing, for she never knew that she had done wrong in loving Maltravers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lady drew gently back, but not in horror&mdash;no, in still deeper
+      compassion; for that lady had virtue, and she knew that the faults of her
+      sex are sufficiently punished to permit Virtue to pity them without a sin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry for it,&rdquo; she said, however, with greater gravity. &ldquo;Are you
+      travelling to seek the father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, madam! I shall never see him again!&rdquo; And Alice wept.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&mdash;he has abandoned you&mdash;so young, so beautiful!&rdquo; added the
+      lady to herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Abandoned me!&mdash;no, madam; but it is a long tale. Good evening&mdash;I
+      thank you kindly for your pity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The lady&rsquo;s eyes ran over.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stay,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;tell me frankly where you are going, and what is your
+      object.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas! madam, I am going anywhere, for I have no home; but I wish to live,
+      and work for my living, in order that my child may not want for anything.
+      I wish I could maintain myself&mdash;he used to say I could.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He!&mdash;your language and manner are not those of a peasant. What can
+      you do? What do you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Music, and work, and&mdash;and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Music!&mdash;this is strange! What were your parents?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alice shuddered, and hid her face with her hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lady&rsquo;s interest was now fairly warmed in her behalf.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has sinned,&rdquo; said she to herself; &ldquo;but at that age, how can one be
+      harsh? She must not be thrown upon the world to make sin a habit. Follow
+      me,&rdquo; she said, after a little pause; &ldquo;and think you have found a friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The lady then turned from the high-road down a green lane which led to a
+      park lodge. This lodge she entered; and after a short conversation with
+      the inmate, beckoned to Alice to join her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Janet,&rdquo; said Alice&rsquo;s new protector to a comely and pleasant-eyed woman,
+      &ldquo;this is the young person&mdash;you will show her and the infant every
+      attention. I shall send down proper clothing for her to-morrow, and I
+      shall then have thought what will be best for her future welfare.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With that the lady smiled benignly upon Alice, whose heart was too full to
+      speak; and the door of the cottage closed upon her, and Alice thought the
+      day had grown darker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Believe me, she has won me much to pity her.
+  Alas! her gentle nature was not made
+  To buffet with adversity.&rdquo;&mdash;ROWE.
+
+ &ldquo;Sober he was, and grave from early youth,
+  Mindful of forms, but more intent on truth;
+  In a light drab he uniformly dress&rsquo;d,
+  And look serene th&rsquo; unruffled mind express&rsquo;d.
+
+</pre>
+    <hr />
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Yet might observers in his sparkling eye
+  Some observation, some acuteness spy
+  The friendly thought it keen, the treacherous deem&rsquo;d it sly;
+  Yet not a crime could foe or friend detect,
+  His actions all were like his speech correct&mdash;
+  Chaste, sober, solemn, and devout they named
+  Him who was this, and not of this ashamed.&rdquo;&mdash;CRABBE.
+
+ &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll on and sound this secret.&rdquo;&mdash;BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      MRS. LESLIE, the lady introduced to the reader in the last chapter, was a
+      woman of the firmest intellect combined (no unusual combination) with the
+      softest heart. She learned Alice&rsquo;s history with admiration and pity. The
+      natural innocence and honesty of the young mother spoke so eloquently in
+      her words and looks, that Mrs. Leslie, on hearing her tale, found much
+      less to forgive than she had anticipated. Still she deemed it necessary to
+      enlighten Alice as to the criminality of the connection she had formed.
+      But here Alice was singularly dull&mdash;she listened in meek patience to
+      Mrs. Leslie&rsquo;s lecture; but it evidently made but slight impression on her.
+      She had not yet seen enough of the social state to correct the first
+      impressions of the natural: and all she could say in answer to Mrs. Leslie
+      was: &ldquo;It may be all very true, madam, but I have been so much better since
+      I knew him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But though Alice took humbly any censure upon herself, she would not hear
+      a syllable insinuated against Maltravers. When, in a very natural
+      indignation, Mrs. Leslie denounced him as a destroyer of innocence&mdash;for
+      Mrs. Leslie could not learn all that extenuated his offence&mdash;Alice
+      started up with flashing eyes and heaving heart, and would have hurried
+      from the only shelter she had in the wide world&mdash;she would sooner
+      have died&mdash;she would sooner even have seen her child die, than done
+      that idol of her soul, who, in her eyes, stood alone on some pinnacle
+      between earth and heaven, the wrong of hearing him reviled. With
+      difficulty Mrs. Leslie could restrain, with still more difficulty could
+      she pacify and soothe her; and for the girl&rsquo;s petulance, which others
+      might have deemed insolent or ungrateful, the woman-heart of Mrs. Leslie
+      loved her all the better. The more she saw of Alice, and the more she
+      comprehended her story and her character, the more was she lost in wonder
+      at the romance of which this beautiful child had been the heroine, and the
+      more perplexed she was as to Alice&rsquo;s future prospects.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length, however, when she became acquainted with Alice&rsquo;s musical
+      acquirements, which were, indeed, of no common order, a light broke in
+      upon her. Here was the source of her future independence. Maltravers, it
+      will be remembered, was a musician of consummate skill as well as taste,
+      and Alice&rsquo;s natural talent for the art had advanced her, in the space of
+      months, to a degree of perfection which it cost others&mdash;which it had
+      cost even the quick Maltravers&mdash;years to obtain. But we learn so
+      rapidly when our teachers are those we love: and it may be observed that
+      the less our knowledge, the less perhaps our genius in other things, the
+      more facile are our attainments in music, which is a very jealous mistress
+      of the mind. Mrs. Leslie resolved to have her perfected in this art, and
+      so enable her to become a teacher to others. In the town of C&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;,
+      about thirty miles from Mrs. Leslie&rsquo;s house, though in the same county,
+      there was no inconsiderable circle of wealthy and intelligent persons; for
+      it was a cathedral town, and the resident clergy drew around them a kind
+      of provincial aristocracy. Here, as in most rural towns in England, music
+      was much cultivated, both among the higher and middle classes. There were
+      amateur concerts, and glee-clubs, and subscriptions for sacred music; and
+      once every five years there was the great C&mdash;&mdash;&mdash; Festival.
+      In this town Mrs. Leslie established Alice: she placed her under the roof
+      of a <i>ci-devant</i> music-master, who, having retired from his
+      profession, was no longer jealous of rivals, but who, by handsome terms,
+      was induced to complete the education of Alice. It was an eligible and
+      comfortable abode, and the music-master and his wife were a good-natured
+      easy old couple.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Three months of resolute and unceasing perseverance, combined with the
+      singular ductility and native gifts of Alice, sufficed to render her the
+      most promising pupil the good musician had ever accomplished; and in three
+      months more, introduced by Mrs. Leslie to many of the families in the
+      place, Alice was established in a home of her own; and, what with regular
+      lessons, and occasional assistance at musical parties, she was fairly
+      earning what her tutor reasonably pronounced to be &ldquo;a very genteel
+      independence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, in these arrangements (for we must here go back a little), there had
+      been one gigantic difficulty of conscience in one party, of feeling in
+      another, to surmount. Mrs. Leslie saw at once that unless Alice&rsquo;s
+      misfortune was concealed, all the virtues and all the talents in the world
+      could not enable her to retrace the one false step. Mrs. Leslie was a
+      woman of habitual truth and strict rectitude, and she was sorely perplexed
+      between the propriety of candour and its cruelty. She felt unequal to take
+      the responsibility of action on herself; and, after much meditation, she
+      resolved to confide her scruples to one who, of all whom she knew,
+      possessed the highest character for moral worth and religious sanctity.
+      This gentleman, lately a widower, lived at the outskirts of the town
+      selected for Alice&rsquo;s future residence, and at that time happened to be on
+      a visit in Mrs. Leslie&rsquo;s neighbourhood. He was an opulent man, a banker;
+      he had once represented the town in parliament, and retiring, from
+      disinclination to the late hours and onerous fatigues even of an
+      unreformed House of Commons, he still possessed an influence to return
+      one, if not both, of the members for the city of C&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;.
+      And that influence was always exerted so as best to secure his own
+      interest with the powers that be, and advance certain objects of ambition
+      (for he was both an ostentatious and ambitious man in his own way), which
+      he felt he might more easily obtain by proxy than by his own votes and
+      voice in parliament&mdash;an atmosphere in which his light did not shine.
+      And it was with a wonderful address that the banker contrived at once to
+      support the government, and yet, by the frequent expression of liberal
+      opinions, to conciliate the Whigs and the Dissenters of his neighbourhood.
+      Parties, political and sectarian, were not then so irreconcilable as they
+      are now. In the whole county there was no one so respected as this eminent
+      person, and yet he possessed no shining talents, though a laborious and
+      energetic man of business. It was solely and wholly the force of moral
+      character which gave him his position in society. He felt this; he was
+      sensitively proud of it; he was painfully anxious not to lose an atom of a
+      distinction that required to be vigilantly secured. He was a very <i>remarkable</i>,
+      yet not (perhaps could we penetrate all hearts), a very <i>uncommon</i>
+      character&mdash;this banker! He had risen from, comparatively speaking, a
+      low origin and humble fortunes, and entirely by the scrupulous and sedate
+      propriety of his outward conduct. With such a propriety he, therefore,
+      inseparably connected every notion of worldly prosperity and honour. Thus,
+      though far from a bad man, he was forced into being something of a
+      hypocrite. Every year he had grown more starch and more saintly. He was
+      conscience-keeper to the whole town; and it is astonishing how many
+      persons hardly dared to make a will or subscribe to a charity without his
+      advice. As he was a shrewd man of this world, as well as an accredited
+      guide to the next, his advice was precisely of a nature to reconcile the
+      Conscience and the Interest; and he was a kind of negotiator in the
+      reciprocal diplomacy of earth and heaven. But our banker was really a
+      charitable man, and a benevolent man, and a sincere believer. How, then,
+      was he a hypocrite? Simply because he professed to be far <i>more</i>
+      charitable, <i>more</i> benevolent, and <i>more</i> pious than he really
+      was. His reputation had now arrived to that degree of immaculate polish
+      that the smallest breath, which would not have tarnished the character of
+      another man, would have fixed an indelible stain upon his. As he affected
+      to be more strict than the churchman, and was a great oracle with all who
+      regarded churchmen as lukewarm, so his conduct was narrowly watched by all
+      the clergy of the orthodox cathedral, good men, doubtless, but not
+      affecting to be saints, who were jealous at being so luminously outshone
+      by a layman and an authority of the sectarians. On the other hand, the
+      intense homage and almost worship he received from his followers kept his
+      goodness upon a stretch, if not beyond all human power, certainly beyond
+      his own. For &ldquo;admiration&rdquo; (as it is well said somewhere) &ldquo;is a kind of
+      superstition which expects miracles.&rdquo; From nature this gentleman had
+      received an inordinate share of animal propensities: he had strong
+      passions, he was by temperament a sensualist. He loved good eating and
+      good wine&mdash;he loved women. The two former blessings of the carnal
+      life are not incompatible with canonisation; but St. Anthony has shown
+      that women, however angelic, are not precisely that order of angels that
+      saints may safely commune with. If, therefore, he ever yielded to
+      temptations of a sexual nature, it was with profound secrecy and caution;
+      nor did his right hand know what his left hand did.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This gentleman had married a woman much older than himself, but her
+      fortune had been one of the necessary stepping-stones in his career. His
+      exemplary conduct towards this lady, ugly as well as old, had done much
+      towards increasing the odour of his sanctity. She died of an ague, and the
+      widower did not shock probabilities by affecting too severe a grief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Lord&rsquo;s will be done!&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;she was a good woman, but we should
+      not set our affections too much upon His perishable creatures!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was all he was ever heard to say on the matter. He took an elderly
+      gentlewoman, distantly related to him, to manage his house, and sit at the
+      head of the table; and it was thought not impossible, though the widower
+      was past fifty, that he might marry again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Such was the gentleman called in by Mrs. Leslie, who, of the same
+      religious opinions, had long known and revered him, to decide the affairs
+      of Alice and of Conscience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As this man exercised no slight or fugitive influence over Alice Darvil&rsquo;s
+      destinies, his counsels on the point in discussion ought to be fairly
+      related.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; said Mrs. Leslie, concluding the history, &ldquo;you will perceive,
+      my dear sir, that this poor young creature has been less culpable than she
+      appears. From the extraordinary proficiency she has made in music, in a
+      time that, by her own account, seems incredibly short; I should suspect
+      her unprincipled betrayer must have been an artist&mdash;a professional
+      man. It is just possible that they may meet again, and (as the ranks
+      between them cannot be so very disproportionate) that he may marry her. I
+      am sure that he could not do a better or a wiser thing, for she loves him
+      too fondly, despite her wrongs. Under these circumstances, would it be a&mdash;a&mdash;a
+      culpable disguise of truth to represent her as a married woman&mdash;separated
+      from her husband&mdash;and give her the name of her seducer? Without such
+      a precaution you will see, sir, that all hope of settling her reputably in
+      life&mdash;all chance of procuring her any creditable independence, is out
+      of the question. Such is my dilemma. What is your advice?&mdash;palatable
+      or not, I shall abide by it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The banker&rsquo;s grave and saturnine countenance exhibited a slight degree of
+      embarrassment at the case submitted to him. He began brushing away, with
+      the cuff of his black coat, some atoms of dust that had settled on his
+      drab small-clothes; and, after a slight pause, he replied, &ldquo;Why, really,
+      dear madam, the question is one of much delicacy&mdash;I doubt if men
+      could be good judges upon it; your sex&rsquo;s tact and instinct on these
+      matters are better&mdash;much better than our sagacity. There is much in
+      the dictates of your own heart; for to those who are in the grace of the
+      Lord He vouchsafes to communicate His pleasure by spiritual hints and
+      inward suggestions!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If so, my dear sir, the matter is decided; for my heart whispers me that
+      this slight deviation from truth would be a less culpable offence than
+      turning so young and, I had almost said, so innocent a creature adrift
+      upon the world. I may take your opinion as my sanction.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, really, I can scarcely say so much as that,&rdquo; said the banker, with a
+      slight smile. &ldquo;A deviation from truth cannot be incurred without some
+      forfeiture of strict duty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not in any case? Alas, I was afraid so!&rdquo; said Mrs. Leslie, despondingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In any case! Oh, there <i>may</i> be cases! But had I not better see the
+      young woman, and ascertain that your benevolent heart has not deceived
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you would,&rdquo; said Mrs. Leslie; &ldquo;she is now in the house. I will
+      ring for her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Should we not be alone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly; I will leave you together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alice was sent for, and appeared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This pious gentleman,&rdquo; said Mrs. Leslie, &ldquo;will confer with you for a few
+      moments, my child. Do not be afraid; he is the best of men.&rdquo; With these
+      words of encouragement the good lady vanished, and Alice saw before her a
+      tall dark man, with a head bald in front, yet larger behind than before,
+      with spectacles upon a pair of shrewd, penetrating eyes, and an outline of
+      countenance that showed he must have been handsome in earlier manhood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My young friend,&rdquo; said the banker, seating himself, after a deliberate
+      survey of the fair countenance that blushed beneath his gaze, &ldquo;Mrs. Leslie
+      and myself have been conferring upon your temporal welfare. You have been
+      unfortunate, my child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah&mdash;yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, well, you are very young; we must not be too severe upon youth. You
+      will never do so again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do what, please you, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! Humph! I mean that you will be more rigid, more circumspect. Men
+      are deceitful; you must be on your guard against them. You are handsome,
+      child, very handsome&mdash;more&rsquo;s the pity.&rdquo; And the banker took Alice&rsquo;s
+      hand and pressed it with great unction. Alice looked at him gravely and
+      drew the hand away instinctively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The banker lowered his spectacles, and gazed at her without their aid; his
+      eyes were still fine and expressive. &ldquo;What is your name?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alice&mdash;Alice Darvil, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Alice, we have been considering what is best for you. You wish to
+      earn your own livelihood, and perhaps marry some honest man hereafter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Marry, sir&mdash;never!&rdquo; said Alice, with great earnestness, her eyes
+      filling with tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I shall never see <i>him</i> on earth, and they do not marry in
+      heaven, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The banker was moved, for he was not worse than his neighbours, though
+      trying to make them believe he was so much better.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, time enough to talk of that; but in the meanwhile you would support
+      yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir. His child ought to be a burden to none&mdash;nor I either. I
+      once wished to die, but then who would love my little one? Now I wish to
+      live.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what mode of livelihood would you prefer? Would you go into a family,
+      in some capacity?&mdash;not that of a servant&mdash;you are too delicate
+      for that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no&mdash;no!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, again, why?&rdquo; asked the banker, soothingly, yet surprised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because,&rdquo; said Alice, almost solemnly, &ldquo;there are some hours when I feel
+      I must be alone. I sometimes think I am not all right <i>here</i>,&rdquo; and
+      she touched her forehead. &ldquo;They called me an idiot before I knew <i>him</i>!&mdash;No,
+      I could not live with others, for I can only cry when nobody but my child
+      is with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was said with such unconscious, and therefore with such pathetic,
+      simplicity, that the banker was sensibly affected. He rose, stirred the
+      fire, resettled himself, and, after a pause, said emphatically: &ldquo;Alice, I
+      will be your friend. Let me believe you will deserve it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Alice bent her graceful head, and seeing that he had sunk into an
+      abstracted silence, she thought it time for her to withdraw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is, indeed, beautiful,&rdquo; said the banker, almost aloud, when he was
+      alone; &ldquo;and the old lady is right&mdash;she is as innocent as if she had
+      not fallen. I wonder&mdash;&rdquo; Here he stopped short, and walked to the
+      glass over the mantelpiece, where he was still gazing on his own features,
+      when Mrs. Leslie returned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir,&rdquo; said she, a little surprised at this seeming vanity in so
+      pious a man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The banker started. &ldquo;Madam, I honour your penetration as much as your
+      charity; I think that there is so much to be feared in letting all the
+      world know this young female&rsquo;s past error, that, though I dare not advise,
+      I cannot blame, your concealment of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, sir, your words have sunk deep into my thoughts; you said every
+      deviation from truth was a forfeiture of duty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly; but there are some exceptions. The world is a bad world, we
+      are born in sin; and the children of wrath. We do not tell infants all the
+      truth, when they ask us questions, the proper answers of which would
+      mislead, not enlighten them. In some things the whole world are infants.
+      The very science of government is the science of concealing truth&mdash;so
+      is the system of trade. We could not blame the tradesman for not telling
+      the public that if all his debts were called in he would be a bankrupt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And he may marry her after all&mdash;this Mr. Butler.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heaven forbid&mdash;the villain!&mdash;Well, madam, I will see to this
+      poor young thing&mdash;she shall not want a guide.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heaven reward you! How wicked some people are to call you severe!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can bear <i>that</i> blame with a meek temper, madam. Good day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good day. You will remember how strictly confidential has been our
+      conversation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a breath shall transpire. I will send you some tracts to-morrow&mdash;so
+      comforting. Heaven bless you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This difficulty smoothed, Mrs. Leslie, to her astonishment, found that she
+      had another to contend with in Alice herself. For, first, Alice conceived
+      that to change her name and keep her secret was to confess that she ought
+      to be ashamed, rather than proud, of her love to Ernest, and she thought
+      that so ungrateful to him!&mdash;and, secondly, to take his name, to pass
+      for his wife&mdash;what presumption&mdash;he would certainly have a right
+      to be offended! At these scruples Mrs. Leslie well-nigh lost all patience;
+      and the banker, to his own surprise, was again called in. We have said
+      that he was an experienced and skilful adviser, which implies the faculty
+      of persuasion. He soon saw the handle by which Alice&rsquo;s obstinacy might
+      always be moved&mdash;her little girl&rsquo;s welfare. He put this so forcibly
+      before her eyes; he represented the child&rsquo;s future fate as resting so
+      much, not only on her own good conduct, but on her outward respectability,
+      that he prevailed upon her at last; and, perhaps, one argument that he
+      incidentally used, had as much effect on her as the rest. &ldquo;This Mr.
+      Butler, if yet in England, may pass through our town&mdash;may visit
+      amongst us&mdash;may hear you spoken of by a name similar to his own, and
+      curiosity would thus induce him to seek you. Take his name, and you will
+      always bear an honourable index to your mutual discovery and recognition.
+      Besides, when you are respectable, honoured, and earning an independence,
+      he may not be too proud to marry you. But take your own name, avow your
+      own history, and not only will your child be an outcast, yourself a
+      beggar, or, at best, a menial dependant, but you lose every hope of
+      recovering the object of your too-devoted attachment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus Alice was convinced. From that time she became close and reserved in
+      her communications. Mrs. Leslie had wisely selected a town sufficiently
+      remote from her own abode to preclude any revelations of her domestics;
+      and, as Mrs. Butler, Alice attracted universal sympathy and respect from
+      the exercise of her talents, the modest sweetness of her manners, the
+      unblemished propriety of her conduct. Somehow or other, no sooner did she
+      learn the philosophy of concealment than she made a great leap in
+      knowledge of the world. And, though flattered and courted by the young
+      loungers of C&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;, she steered her course with so much
+      address that she was never persecuted. For there are few men in the world
+      who make advances where there is no encouragement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The banker observed her conduct with silent vigilance. He met her often,
+      he visited her often. He was intimate at houses where she attended to
+      teach or perform. He lent her good books&mdash;he advised her&mdash;he
+      preached to her. Alice began to look up to him&mdash;to like him&mdash;to
+      consider him as a village girl in Catholic countries may consider a
+      benevolent and kindly priest. And he&mdash;what was his object?&mdash;at
+      that time it is impossible to guess:&mdash;he became thoughtful and
+      abstracted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day an old maid and an old clergyman met in the High Street of C&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how do you do, ma&rsquo;am?&rdquo; said the clergyman; &ldquo;how is the rheumatism?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Better, thank you, sir. Any news?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The clergyman smiled, and something hovered on his lips, which he
+      suppressed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Were you,&rdquo; the old maid resumed, &ldquo;at Mrs. Macnab&rsquo;s last night? Charming
+      music?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Charming! How pretty that Mrs. Butler is! and how humble! Knows her
+      station&mdash;so unlike professional people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, indeed!&mdash;What attention a certain banker paid her!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He! he! he! yes; he is very fatherly&mdash;very!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps he will marry again; he is always talking of the holy state of
+      matrimony&mdash;a holy state it may be&mdash;but Heaven knows, his wife,
+      poor woman, did not make it a pleasant one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There may be more causes for that than we guess of,&rdquo; said the clergyman,
+      mysteriously. &ldquo;I would not be uncharitable, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, when he was young, our great man was not so correct, I fancy, as he
+      is now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I have heard it whispered; but nothing against him was ever known.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hem&mdash;it is very odd!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s very odd?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, but it&rsquo;s a secret&mdash;I dare say it&rsquo;s all very right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t say a word. Are you going to the cathedral?&mdash;don&rsquo;t let
+      me keep you standing. Now, pray proceed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, yesterday I was doing duty in a village more than twenty
+      miles hence, and I loitered in the village to take an early dinner; and,
+      afterwards, while my horse was feeding, I strolled down the green.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I saw a gentleman muffled carefully up, with his hat slouched over
+      his face, at the door of a cottage, with a little child in his arms, and
+      he kissed it more fondly than, be we ever so good, we generally kiss other
+      people&rsquo;s children; and then he gave it to a peasant woman standing near
+      him, and mounted his horse, which was tied to the gate, and trotted past
+      me; and who do you think this was?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Patience me&mdash;I can&rsquo;t guess!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, our saintly banker. I bowed to him, and I assure you he turned as
+      red, ma&rsquo;am, as your waistband.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I just turned into the cottage when he was out of sight, for I was
+      thirsty, and asked for a glass of water, and I saw the child. I declare I
+      would not be uncharitable, but I thought it monstrous like&mdash;you know
+      whom!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gracious! you don&rsquo;t say&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I asked the woman &lsquo;if it was hers?&rsquo; and she said &lsquo;No,&rsquo; but was very
+      short.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear me, I must find this out! What is the name of the village?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Covedale.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I know&mdash;I know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a word of this; I dare say there is nothing in it. But I am not much
+      in favour of your new lights.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nor I neither. What better than the good old Church of England?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madam, your sentiments do you honour; you&rsquo;ll be sure not to say anything
+      of our little mystery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a syllable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Two days after this three old maids made an excursion to the village of
+      Covedale, and lo! the cottage in question was shut up&mdash;the woman and
+      the child were gone. The people in the village knew nothing about them&mdash;had
+      seen nothing particular in the woman or child&mdash;had always supposed
+      them mother and daughter; and the gentleman identified by the clerical
+      inquisitor with the banker had never but once been observed in the place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The vile old parson,&rdquo; said the eldest of the old maids, &ldquo;to take away so
+      good a man&rsquo;s character!&mdash;and the fly will cost one pound two, with
+      the baiting!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;In this disposition was I, when looking out of my window one
+  day to take the air, I perceived a kind of peasant who looked
+  at me very attentively.&rdquo;&mdash;GIL BLAS.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      A SUMMER&rsquo;S evening in a retired country town has something melancholy in
+      it. You have the streets of a metropolis without their animated bustle&mdash;you
+      have the stillness of the country without its birds and flowers. The
+      reader will please to bring before him a quiet street in the quiet country
+      town of C&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;, in a quiet evening in quiet June; the
+      picture is not mirthful&mdash;two young dogs are playing in the street,
+      one old dog is watching by a newly-painted door. A few ladies of middle
+      age move noiselessly along the pavement, returning home to tea: they wear
+      white muslin dresses, green spencers a little faded, straw poke bonnets
+      with green or coffee-coloured gauze veils. By twos and threes they have
+      disappeared within the thresholds of small neat houses, with little
+      railings, inclosing little green plots. Threshold, house, railing, and
+      plot, each as like to the other as are those small commodities called
+      &ldquo;nest-tables,&rdquo; which, &ldquo;even as a broken mirror multiplies,&rdquo; summon to the
+      bewildered eye countless iterations of one four-legged individual.
+      Paradise Place was a set of nest houses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A cow had passed through the streets with a milkwoman behind; two young
+      and gay shopmen &ldquo;looking after the gals,&rdquo; had reconnoitred the street, and
+      vanished in despair. The twilight advanced&mdash;but gently; and though a
+      star or two were up, the air was still clear. At the open window of one of
+      the tenements in this street sat Alice Darvil. She had been working (that
+      pretty excuse to women for thinking), and as the thoughts grew upon her,
+      and the evening waned, the work had fallen upon her knee, and her hands
+      dropped mechanically on her lap. Her profile was turned towards the
+      street; but without moving her head or changing her attitude, her eyes
+      glanced from time to time to her little girl, who nestled on the ground
+      beside her, tired with play; and wondering, perhaps, why she was not
+      already in bed, seemed as tranquil as the young mother herself. And
+      sometimes Alice&rsquo;s eyes filled with tears&mdash;and then she sighed, as if
+      to sigh the tears away. But poor Alice, if she grieved, hers was now a
+      silent and a patient grief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The street was deserted of all other passengers, when a man passed along
+      the pavement on the side opposite to Alice&rsquo;s house. His garb was rude and
+      homely, between that of a labourer and a farmer; but still there was an
+      affectation of tawdry show about the bright scarlet handkerchief, tied, in
+      a sailor or smuggler fashion, round the sinewy throat; the hat was set
+      jauntily on one side, and, dangling many an inch from the gaily-striped
+      waistcoat, glittered a watch-chain and seals, which appeared suspiciously
+      out of character with the rest of his attire. The passenger was covered
+      with dust; and as the street was in a suburb communicating with the
+      high-road, and formed one of the entrances into the town, he had probably,
+      after long day&rsquo;s journey, reached his evening&rsquo;s destination. The looks of
+      this stranger wore anxious, restless, and perturbed. In his gait and
+      swagger there was the recklessness of the professional blackguard; but in
+      his vigilant, prying, suspicious eyes there was a hang-dog expression of
+      apprehension and fear. He seemed a man upon whom Crime had set its
+      significant mark&mdash;and who saw a purse with one eye and a gibbet with
+      the other. Alice did not note the stranger, until she herself had
+      attracted and centred all his attention. He halted abruptly as he caught a
+      view of her face&mdash;shaded his eyes with his hands as if to gaze more
+      intently&mdash;and at length burst into an exclamation of surprise and
+      pleasure. At that instant Alice turned, and her gaze met that of the
+      stranger. The fascination of the basilisk can scarcely more stun and
+      paralyse its victim than the look of this stranger charmed, with the
+      appalling glamoury of horror, the eye and soul of Alice Darvil. Her face
+      became suddenly locked and rigid, her lips as white as marble, her eyes
+      almost started from their sockets&mdash;she pressed her hands convulsively
+      together, and shuddered&mdash;but still she did not move. The man nodded,
+      and grinned, and then, deliberately crossing the street, gained the door,
+      and knocked loudly. Still Alice did not stir&mdash;her senses seemed to
+      have forsaken her. Presently the stranger&rsquo;s loud, rough voice was heard
+      below, in answer to the accents of the solitary woman-servant whom Alice
+      kept in her employ; and his strong, heavy tread made the slight staircase
+      creak and tremble. Then Alice rose as by an instinct, caught her child in
+      her arms, and stood erect and motionless facing the door. It opened&mdash;and
+      the FATHER and DAUGHTER were once more face to face within the same walls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Alley, how are you, my blowen?&mdash;glad to see your old dad
+      again, I&rsquo;ll be sworn. No ceremony, sit down. Ha, ha! snug here&mdash;very
+      snug&mdash;we shall live together charmingly. Trade on your own account&mdash;eh?
+      sly!&mdash;well, can&rsquo;t desert your poor old father. Let&rsquo;s have something
+      to eat and drink.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So saying, Darvil threw himself at length upon the neat, prim little
+      chintz sofa, with the air of a man resolved to make himself perfectly at
+      home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alice gazed, and trembled violently, but still said nothing&mdash;the
+      power of voice had indeed left her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, why don&rsquo;t you stir your stumps? I suppose I must wait on myself&mdash;fine
+      manners!&mdash;But, ho, ho&mdash;a bell, by gosh&mdash;mighty grand&mdash;never
+      mind&mdash;I am used to call for my own wants.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A hearty tug at the frail bell-rope sent a shrill alarum half-way through
+      the long lath-and-plaster row of Paradise Place, and left the instrument
+      of the sound in the hand of its creator.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Up came the maid-servant, a formal old woman, most respectable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hark ye, old girl!&rdquo; said Darvil; &ldquo;bring up the best you have to eat&mdash;not
+      particular&mdash;let there be plenty. And I say&mdash;a bottle of brandy.
+      Come, don&rsquo;t stand there staring like a stuck pig. Budge! Hell and furies!
+      don&rsquo;t you hear me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The servant retreated, as if a pistol had been put to her head, and
+      Darvil, laughing loud, threw himself again upon the sofa. Alice looked at
+      him, and, still without saying a word, glided from the room&mdash;her
+      child in her arms. She hurried down-stairs, and in the hall met her
+      servant. The latter, who was much attached to her mistress, was alarmed to
+      see her about to leave the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, marm, where be you going? Dear heart, you have no bonnet on! What is
+      the matter? Who is this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; cried Alice, in agony; &ldquo;what shall I do?&mdash;where shall I fly?&rdquo;
+       The door above opened. Alice heard, started, and the next moment was in
+      the street. She ran on breathlessly, and like one insane. Her mind was,
+      indeed, for the time, gone; and had a river flowed before her way, she
+      would have plunged into an escape from a world that seemed too narrow to
+      hold a father and his child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But just as she turned the corner of a street that led into the more
+      public thoroughfares, she felt her arm grasped, and a voice called out her
+      name in surprised and startled accents.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heavens, Mrs. Butler! Alice! What do I see? What is the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, sir, save me!&mdash;you are a good man&mdash;a great man&mdash;save
+      me&mdash;he is returned!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He! who? Mr. Butler?&rdquo; said the banker (for that gentleman it was) in a
+      changed and trembling voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no&mdash;ah, not he!&mdash;I did not say <i>he</i>&mdash;I said my
+      father&mdash;my, my&mdash;ah&mdash;look behind&mdash;look behind&mdash;is
+      he coming?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Calm yourself, my dear young friend&mdash;no one is near. I will go and
+      reason with your father. No one shall harm you&mdash;I will protect you.
+      Go back&mdash;go back, I will follow&mdash;we must not be seen together.&rdquo;
+       And the tall banker seemed trying to shrink into a nutshell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; said Alice, growing yet paler, &ldquo;I cannot go back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, just follow me to the door&mdash;your servant shall get you
+      your bonnet, and accompany you to my house, where you can wait till I
+      return. Meanwhile I will see your father, and rid you, I trust, of his
+      presence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The banker, who spoke in a very hurried and even impatient voice, waited
+      for no reply, but took his way to Alice&rsquo;s house. Alice herself did not
+      follow, but remained in the very place where she was left, till joined by
+      her servant, who then conducted her to the rich man&rsquo;s residence... But
+      Alice&rsquo;s mind had not recovered its shock, and her thoughts wandered
+      alarmingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;<i>Miramont.</i>&mdash;Do they chafe roundly?
+  <i>Andrew.</i>&mdash;As they were rubbed with soap, sir,
+  And now they swear aloud, now calm again
+  Like a ring of bells, whose sound the wind still utters,
+  And then they sit in council what to do,
+  And then they jar again what shall be done?&rdquo;
+    BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      OH! what a picture of human nature it was when the banker and the vagabond
+      sat together in that little drawing-room, facing each other,&mdash;one in
+      the armchair, one on the sofa! Darvil was still employed on some cold
+      meat, and was making wry faces at the very indifferent brandy which he had
+      frightened the formal old servant into buying at the nearest public-house;
+      and opposite sat the respectable&mdash;highly respectable man of forms and
+      ceremonies, of decencies and quackeries, gazing gravely upon this low,
+      daredevil ruffian:&mdash;the well-to-do hypocrite&mdash;the penniless
+      villain;&mdash;the man who had everything to lose&mdash;the man who had
+      nothing in the wide world but his own mischievous, rascally life, a gold
+      watch, chain and seals, which he had stolen the day before, and thirteen
+      shillings and threepence halfpenny in his left breeches pocket!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man of wealth was by no means well acquainted with the nature of the
+      beast before him. He had heard from Mrs. Leslie (as we remember) the
+      outline of Alice&rsquo;s history, and ascertained that their joint <i>protegee&rsquo;s</i>
+      father was a great blackguard; but he expected to find Mr. Darvil a mere
+      dull, brutish villain&mdash;a peasant-ruffian&mdash;a blunt serf, without
+      brains, or their substitute, effrontery. But Luke Darvil was a clever,
+      half-educated fellow: he did not sin from ignorance, but had wit enough to
+      have bad principles, and he was as impudent as if he had lived all his
+      life in the best society. He was not frightened at the banker&rsquo;s drab
+      breeches and imposing air&mdash;not he! The Duke of Wellington would not
+      have frightened Luke Darvil, unless his grace had had the constables for
+      his <i>aides-de-camp</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The banker, to use a homely phrase, was &ldquo;taken aback.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look you here, Mr. What&rsquo;s-your-name!&rdquo; said Darvil, swallowing a glass of
+      the raw alcohol as if it had been water&mdash;&ldquo;look you now&mdash;you
+      can&rsquo;t humbug me. What the devil do you care about my daughter&rsquo;s
+      respectability or comfort, or anything else, grave old dog as you are! It
+      is my daughter herself you are licking your brown old chaps at!&mdash;and,
+      &lsquo;faith, my Alley is a very pretty girl&mdash;very&mdash;but queer as
+      moonshine. You&rsquo;ll drive a much better bargain with me than with her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The banker coloured scarlet&mdash;he bit his lips and measured his
+      companion from head to foot (while the latter lolled on the sofa), as if
+      he were meditating the possibility of kicking him down-stairs. But Luke
+      Darvil would have thrashed the banker and all his clerks into the bargain.
+      His frame was like a trunk of thews and muscles, packed up by that careful
+      dame, Nature, as tightly as possible; and a prizefighter would have
+      thought twice before he had entered the ring against so awkward a
+      customer. The banker was a man prudent to a fault, and he pushed his chair
+      six inches back, as he concluded his survey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; then said he, very quietly, &ldquo;do not let us misunderstand each
+      other. Your daughter is safe from your control&mdash;if you molest her,
+      the law will protect&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is not of age,&rdquo; said Darvil. &ldquo;Your health, old boy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whether she is of age or not,&rdquo; returned the banker, unheeding the
+      courtesy conveyed in the last sentence, &ldquo;I do not care three straws&mdash;I
+      know enough of the law to know that if she have rich friends in this town,
+      and you have none, she will be protected and you will go to the
+      treadmill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is spoken like a sensible man,&rdquo; said Darvil, for the first time with
+      a show of respect in his manner; &ldquo;you now take a practical view of
+      matters, as we used to say at the spouting-club.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I were in your situation, Mr. Darvil, I tell you what I would do. I
+      would leave my daughter and this town to-morrow morning, and I would
+      promise never to return, and never to molest her, on condition she allowed
+      me a certain sum from her earnings, paid quarterly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if I preferred living with her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In that case, I, as a magistrate of this town, would have you sent away
+      as a vagrant, or apprehended&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Apprehended on suspicion of stealing that gold chain and seals which you
+      wear so ostentatiously.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By goles, but you&rsquo;re a clever fellow,&rdquo; said Darvil, involuntarily; &ldquo;you
+      know human natur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The banker smiled: strange to say, he was pleased with the compliment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; resumed Darvil, helping himself to another slice of beef, &ldquo;you are
+      in the wrong box&mdash;planted in Queer Street, as <i>we</i> say in
+      London; for if you care a d&mdash;n about my daughter&rsquo;s respectability,
+      you will never muzzle her father on suspicion of theft&mdash;and so
+      there&rsquo;s tit for tat, my old gentleman!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall deny that you are her father, Mr. Darvil; and I think you will
+      find it hard to prove the fact in any town where I am a magistrate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By goles, what a good prig you would have made! You are as sharp as a
+      gimlet. Surely you were brought up at the Old Bailey!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Darvil, be ruled. You seem a man not deaf to reason, and I ask you
+      whether, in any town in this country, a poor man in suspicious
+      circumstances can do anything against a rich man whose character is
+      established? Perhaps you are right in the main: I have nothing to do with
+      that. But I tell you that you shall quit this house in half an hour&mdash;that
+      you shall never enter it again but at your peril; and if you do&mdash;within
+      ten minutes from that time you shall be in the town gaol. It is no longer
+      a contest between you and your defenceless daughter; it is a contest
+      between&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A tramper in fustian, and a gemman as drives a coach,&rdquo; interrupted
+      Darvil, laughing bitterly, yet heartily. &ldquo;Good&mdash;good!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The banker rose. &ldquo;I think you have made a very clever definition,&rdquo; said
+      he. &ldquo;Half an hour&mdash;you recollect&mdash;good evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stay,&rdquo; said Darvil; &ldquo;you are the first man I have seen for many a year
+      that I can take a fancy to. Sit down&mdash;sit down, I say, and talk a
+      bit, and we shall come to terms soon, I dare say;&mdash;that&rsquo;s right.
+      Lord! how I should like to have you on the roadside instead of within
+      these four gimcrack walls. Ha! ha! the argufying would be all in my favour
+      then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The banker was not a brave man, and his colour changed slightly at the
+      intimation of this obliging wish. Darvil eyed him grimly and chucklingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The rich man resumed: &ldquo;That may or may not be, Mr. Darvil, according as I
+      might happen or not to have pistols about me. But to the point. Quit this
+      house without further debate, without noise, without mentioning to any one
+      else your claim upon its owner&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, and the return?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ten guineas now, and the same sum quarterly, as long as the young lady
+      lives in this town, and you never persecute her by word or letter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is forty guineas a year. I can&rsquo;t live upon it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will cost less in the House of Correction, Mr. Darvil.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, make it a hundred: Alley is cheap at that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a farthing more,&rdquo; said the banker, buttoning up his breeches pockets
+      with a determined air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, out with the shiners.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you promise or not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I promise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are your ten guineas. If in half an hour you are not gone&mdash;why,
+      then&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, then you have robbed me of ten guineas, and must take the usual
+      consequences of robbery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Darvil started to his feet&mdash;his eyes glared&mdash;he grasped the
+      carving-knife before him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a bold fellow,&rdquo; said the banker, quietly; &ldquo;but it won&rsquo;t do. It is
+      not worth your while to murder me; and I am a man sure to be missed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Darvil sank down, sullen and foiled. The respectable man was more than a
+      match for the villain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Had you been as poor as I,&mdash;Gad! what a rogue you would have been!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think not,&rdquo; said the banker; &ldquo;I believe roguery to be a very bad
+      policy. Perhaps once I <i>was</i> almost as poor as you are, but I never
+      turned rogue.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You never were in my circumstances,&rdquo; returned Darvil, gloomily. &ldquo;I was a
+      gentleman&rsquo;s son. Come, you shall hear my story. My father was well-born,
+      but married a maid-servant when he was at college; his family disowned
+      him, and left him to starve. He died in the struggle against a poverty he
+      was not brought up to, and my dam went into service again; became
+      housekeeper to an old bachelor&mdash;sent me to school&mdash;but mother
+      had a family by the old bachelor, and I was taken from school and put to
+      trade. All hated me&mdash;for I was ugly; damn them! Mother cut me&mdash;I
+      wanted money&mdash;robbed the old bachelor&mdash;was sent to gaol, and
+      learned there a lesson or two how to rob better in future. Mother died,&mdash;I
+      was adrift on the world. The world was my foe&mdash;could not make it up
+      with the world, so we went to war;&mdash;you understand, old boy? Married
+      a poor woman and pretty;&mdash;wife made me jealous&mdash;had learned to
+      suspect every one. Alice born&mdash;did not believe her mine: not like me&mdash;perhaps
+      a gentleman&rsquo;s child. I hate&mdash;I loathe gentlemen. Got drunk one night&mdash;kicked
+      my wife in the stomach three weeks after her confinement. Wife died&mdash;tried
+      for my life&mdash;got off. Went to another county&mdash;having had a sort
+      of education, and being sharp eno&rsquo;, got work as a mechanic. Hated work
+      just as I hated gentlemen&mdash;for was I not by blood a gentleman? There
+      was the curse. Alice grew up; never looked on her as my flesh and blood.
+      Her mother was a w&mdash;&mdash;! Why should not <i>she</i> be one? There,
+      that&rsquo;s enough. Plenty of excuse, I think, for all I have ever done. Curse
+      the world&mdash;curse the rich&mdash;curse the handsome&mdash;curse&mdash;curse
+      all!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been a very foolish man,&rdquo; said the banker; &ldquo;and seem to me to
+      have had very good cards, if you had known how to play them. However, that
+      is your lookout. It is not yet too late to repent; age is creeping on you.&mdash;Man,
+      there is another world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The banker said the last words with a tone of solemn and even dignified
+      adjuration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think so&mdash;do you?&rdquo; said Darvil, staring at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From my soul I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you are not the sensible man I took you for,&rdquo; replied Darvil, drily;
+      &ldquo;and I should like to talk to you on that subject.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But our Dives, however sincere a believer, was by no means one
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+        &ldquo;At whose control
+  Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      He had words of comfort for the pious, but he had none for the sceptic&mdash;he
+      could soothe, but he could not convert. It was not in his way; besides, he
+      saw no credit in making a convert of Luke Darvil. Accordingly, he again
+      rose with some quickness, and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir; that is useless, I fear, and I have no time to spare; and so
+      once more good night to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you have not arranged where my allowance is to be sent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! true; I will guarantee it. You will find my name sufficient
+      security.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At least, it is the best I can get,&rdquo; returned Darvil, carelessly; &ldquo;and
+      after all, it is not a bad chance day&rsquo;s work. But I&rsquo;m sure I can&rsquo;t say
+      where the money shall be sent. I don&rsquo;t know a man who would not grab it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, then&mdash;the best thing (I speak as a man of business) will
+      be to draw on me for ten guineas quarterly. Wherever you are staying, any
+      banker can effect this for you. But mind, if ever you overdraw the account
+      stops.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I understand,&rdquo; said Darvil; &ldquo;and when I have finished the bottle I shall
+      be off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had better,&rdquo; replied the banker, as he opened the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The rich man returned home hurriedly. &ldquo;So Alice, after all, has some
+      gentle blood in her veins,&rdquo; thought he. &ldquo;But that father&mdash;no, it will
+      never do. I wish he were hanged and nobody the wiser. I should very much
+      like to arrange the matter without marrying; but then&mdash;scandal&mdash;scandal&mdash;scandal.
+      After all, I had better give up all thoughts of her. She is monstrous
+      handsome, and so&mdash;humph:&mdash;I shall never grow an old man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VIII.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Began to bend down his admiring eyes
+  On all her touching looks and qualities,
+  Turning their shapely sweetness every way
+  Till &lsquo;twas his food and habit day by day.&rdquo;
+    LEIGH HUNT.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      THERE must have been a secret something about Alice Darvil singularly
+      captivating, that (associated as she was with images of the most sordid
+      and the vilest crimes) left her still pure and lovely alike in the eyes of
+      a man as fastidious as Ernest Maltravers, and of a man as influenced by
+      all the thoughts and theories of the world as the shrewd banker of C&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;.
+      Amidst things foul and hateful had sprung up this beautiful flower, as if
+      to preserve the inherent heavenliness and grace of human nature, and
+      proclaim the handiwork of God in scenes where human nature had been most
+      debased by the abuses of social art; and where the light of God Himself
+      was most darkened and obscured. That such contrasts, though rarely and as
+      by chance, are found, every one who has carefully examined the wastes and
+      deserts of life must own. I have drawn Alice Darvil scrupulously from
+      life, and I can declare that I have not exaggerated hue or lineament in
+      the portrait. I do not suppose, with our good banker, that she owed
+      anything, unless it might be a greater delicacy of form and feature, to
+      whatever mixture of gentle blood was in her veins. But, somehow or other,
+      in her original conformation there was the happy bias of the plantes
+      towards the Pure and the Bright. For, despite Helvetius, a common
+      experience teaches us that though education and circumstances may mould
+      the mass, Nature herself sometimes forms the individual, and throws into
+      the clay, or its spirit, so much of beauty or deformity, that nothing can
+      utterly subdue the original elements of character. From sweets one draws
+      poison&mdash;from poisons another extracts but sweets. But I, often deeply
+      pondering over the psychological history of Alice Darvil, think that one
+      principal cause why she escaped the early contaminations around her was in
+      the slow and protracted development of her intellectual faculties. Whether
+      or not the brutal violence of her father had in childhood acted through
+      the nerves upon the brain, certain it is that until she knew Maltravers&mdash;until
+      she loved&mdash;till she was cherished&mdash;her mind had seemed torpid
+      and locked up. True, Darvil had taught her nothing, nor permitted her to
+      be taught anything; but that mere ignorance would have been no
+      preservation to a quick, observant mind. It was the bluntness of the
+      senses themselves that operated tike an armour between her mind and the
+      vile things around her. It was the rough, dull covering of the chrysalis,
+      framed to bear rude contact and biting weather, that the butterfly might
+      break forth, winged and glorious, in due season. Had Alice been a quick
+      child, Alice would have probably grown up a depraved and dissolute woman;
+      but she comprehended, she understood little or nothing, till she found an
+      inspirer in that affection which inspires both beast and man; which makes
+      the dog (in his natural state one of the meanest of the savage race) a
+      companion, a guardian, a protector, and raises Instinct half-way to the
+      height of Reason.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The banker had a strong regard for Alice; and when he reached home, he
+      heard with great pain that she was in a high state of fever. She remained
+      beneath his roof that night, and the elderly gentlewoman, his relation and
+      <i>gouvernante</i>, attended her. The banker slept but little; and the
+      next morning his countenance was unusually pale. Towards daybreak Alice
+      had fallen into a sound and refreshing sleep; and when, on waking, she
+      found, by a note from her host, that her father had left her house, and
+      she might return in safety and without fear, a violent flood of tears,
+      followed by long and grateful prayer, contributed to the restoration of
+      her mind and nerves. Imperfect as this young woman&rsquo;s notions of abstract
+      right and wrong still were, she was yet sensible to the claims of a father
+      (no matter how criminal) upon his child: for feelings with her were so
+      good and true, that they supplied in a great measure the place of
+      principles. She knew that she could not have lived under the same roof
+      with her dreadful parent; but she still felt an uneasy remorse at thinking
+      he had been driven from that roof in destitution and want. She hastened to
+      dress herself and seek an audience with her protector; and the latter
+      found with admiration and pleasure that he had anticipated her own
+      instantaneous and involuntary design in the settlement made upon Darvil.
+      He then communicated to Alice the compact he had already formed with her
+      father, and she wept and kissed his hand when she heard, and secretly
+      resolved that she would work hard to be enabled to increase the sum
+      allowed. Oh, if her labours could serve to retrieve a parent from the
+      necessity of darker resources for support! Alas! when crime has become a
+      custom, it is like gaming or drinking&mdash;the excitement is wanting; and
+      had Luke Darvil been suddenly made inheritor of the wealth of a
+      Rothschild, he would either still have been a villain in one way or the
+      other; or <i>ennui</i> would have awakened conscience, and he would have
+      died of the change of habit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Our banker always seemed more struck by Alice&rsquo;s moral feelings than even
+      by her physical beauty. Her love for her child, for instance, impressed
+      him powerfully, and he always gazed upon her with softer eyes when he saw
+      her caressing or nursing the little fatherless creature, whose health was
+      now delicate and precarious. It is difficult to say whether he was
+      absolutely in love with Alice; the phrase is too strong, perhaps, to be
+      applied to a man past fifty, who had gone through emotions and trials
+      enough to wear away freshness from his heart. His feelings altogether for
+      Alice, the designs he entertained towards her, were of a very complicated
+      nature; and it will be long, perhaps, before the reader can thoroughly
+      comprehend them. He conducted Alice home that day; but he said little by
+      the way, perhaps because his female relation, for appearance&rsquo; sake,
+      accompanied them also. He, however, briefly cautioned Alice on no account
+      to communicate to any one that it was her father who had been her visitor;
+      and she still shuddered too much at the reminiscence to appear likely to
+      converse on it. The banker also judged it advisable to be so far
+      confidential with Alice&rsquo;s servant as to take her aside, and tell her that
+      the inauspicious stranger of the previous evening had been a very distant
+      relation of Mrs. Butler, who, from a habit of drunkenness, had fallen into
+      evil and disorderly courses. The banker added with a sanctified air that
+      he trusted, by a little serious conversation, he had led the poor man to
+      better notions, and that he had gone home with an altered mind to his
+      family. &ldquo;But, my good Hannah,&rdquo; he concluded, &ldquo;you know you are a superior
+      person, and above the vulgar sin of indiscriminate gossip; therefore,
+      mention what has occurred to no one; it can do no good to Mrs. Butler&mdash;it
+      may hurt the man himself, who is well-to-do&mdash;better off than he
+      seems; and who, I hope, with grace, may be a sincere penitent; and it will
+      also&mdash;but that is nothing&mdash;very seriously displease me. By the
+      by, Hannah, I shall be able to get your grandson into the Free School.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The banker was shrewd enough to perceive that he had carried his point;
+      and he was walking home, satisfied, on the whole, with the way matters had
+      been arranged, when he was met by a brother magistrate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha!&rdquo; said the latter, &ldquo;and how are you, my good sir? Do you know that we
+      have had the Bow Street officers here, in search of a notorious villain
+      who has broken from prison? He is one of the most determined and dexterous
+      burglars in all England, and the runners have hunted him into our town.
+      His very robberies have tracked him by the way. He robbed a gentleman the
+      day before yesterday of his watch, and left him for dead on the road&mdash;this
+      was not thirty miles hence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bless me!&rdquo; said the banker, with emotion; &ldquo;and what is the wretch&rsquo;s
+      name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, he has as many aliases as a Spanish grandee; but I believe the last
+      name he has assumed is Peter Watts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said our friend, relieved,&mdash;&ldquo;well, have the runners found him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, but they are on his scent. A fellow answering to his description was
+      seen by the man at the toll-bar, at daybreak this morning, on the way to F&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;;
+      the officers are after him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope he may meet with his deserts&mdash;and crime is never unpunished
+      even in this world. My best compliments to your lady:&mdash;and how is
+      little Jack?&mdash;Well! glad to hear it&mdash;fine boy, little Jack! good
+      day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good day, my dear sir. Worthy man, that!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IX.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;But who is this? thought he, a demon vile.
+  With wicked meaning and a vulgar style;
+  Hammond they call him&mdash;they can give the name
+  Of man to devils. Why am I so tame?
+  Why crush I not the viper? Fear replied,
+  Watch him a while, and let his strength be tried.&rdquo;
+    CRABBE.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      THE next morning, after breakfast, the banker took his horse&mdash;a
+      crop-eared, fast-trotting hackney&mdash;and merely leaving word that he
+      was going upon business into the country, and should not return to dinner,
+      turned his back on the spires of C&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He rode slowly, for the day was hot. The face of the country, which was
+      fair and smiling, might have tempted others to linger by the way; but our
+      hard and practical man of the world was more influenced by the weather
+      than the loveliness of the scenery. He did not look upon Nature with the
+      eye of imagination; perhaps a railroad, had it then and there existed,
+      would have pleased him better than the hanging woods, the shadowy valleys,
+      and the changeful river that from time to time beautified the landscape on
+      either side the road. But, after all, there is a vast deal of hypocrisy in
+      the affected admiration for Nature;&mdash;and I don&rsquo;t think one person in
+      a hundred cares for what lies by the side of a road, so long as the road
+      itself is good, hills levelled, and turnpikes cheap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was midnoon, and many miles had been passed, when the banker turned
+      down a green lane and quickened his pace. At the end of about
+      three-quarters of an hour, he arrived at a little solitary inn, called
+      &ldquo;The Angler,&rdquo;&mdash;put up his horse, ordered his dinner at six o&rsquo;clock&mdash;begged
+      to borrow a basket to hold his fish&mdash;and it was then apparent that a
+      longish cane he had carried with him was capable of being extended into a
+      fishing-rod. He fitted in the various joints with care, as if to be sure
+      no accident had happened to the implement by the journey&mdash;pried
+      anxiously into the contents of a black case of lines and flies&mdash;slung
+      the basket behind his back, and while his horse was putting down his nose
+      and whisking about his tail, in the course of those nameless coquetries
+      that horses carry on with hostlers&mdash;our worthy brother of the rod
+      strode rapidly through some green fields, gained the riverside, and began
+      fishing with much semblance of earnest interest in the sport. He had
+      caught one trout, seemingly by accident&mdash;for the astonished fish was
+      hooked up on the outside of its jaw&mdash;probably while in the act, not
+      of biting, but of gazing at, the bait, when he grew discontented with the
+      spot he had selected; and, after looking round as if to convince himself
+      that he was not liable to be disturbed or observed (a thought hateful to
+      the fishing fraternity), he stole quickly along the margin, and finally
+      quitting the riverside altogether, struck into a path that, after a sharp
+      walk of nearly all hour, brought him to the door of a cottage. He knocked
+      twice, and then entered of his own accord&mdash;nor was it till the summer
+      sun was near its decline that the banker regained his inn. His simple
+      dinner, which they had delayed in wonder at the protracted absence of the
+      angler, and in expectation of the fishes he was to bring back to be fried,
+      was soon despatched; his horse was ordered to the door, and the red clouds
+      in the west already betokened the lapse of another day, as he spurred from
+      the spot on the fast-trotting hackney, fourteen miles an hour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That &lsquo;ere gemman has a nice bit of blood,&rdquo; said the hostler, scratching
+      his ear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oiy,&mdash;who be he?&rdquo; said a hanger-on of the stables.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dooan&rsquo;t know. He has been here twice afoar, and he never cautches
+      anything to sinnify&mdash;he be mighty fond of fishing, surely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile, away sped the banker&mdash;milestone on milestone glided by&mdash;and
+      still, scarce turning a hair, trotted gallantly out the good hackney. But
+      the evening grew darker, and it began to rain; a drizzling, persevering
+      rain, that wets a man through ere he is aware of it. After his fiftieth
+      year, a gentleman who has a tender regard for himself does not like to get
+      wet; and the rain inspired the banker, who was subject to rheumatism, with
+      the resolution to take a short cut along the fields. There were one or two
+      low hedges by this short way, but the banker had been there in the spring,
+      and knew every inch of the ground. The hackney leaped easily&mdash;and the
+      rider had a tolerably practised seat&mdash;and two miles saved might just
+      prevent the menaced rheumatism: accordingly, our friend opened a white
+      gate, and scoured along the fields without any misgivings as to the
+      prudence of his choice. He arrived at his first leap&mdash;there was the
+      hedge, its summit just discernible in the dim light. On the other side, to
+      the right was a haystack, and close by this haystack seemed the most
+      eligible place for clearing the obstacle. Now since the banker had visited
+      this place, a deep ditch, that served as a drain, had been dug at the
+      opposite base of the hedge, of which neither horse nor man was aware, so
+      that the leap was far more perilous than was anticipated. Unconscious of
+      this additional obstacle, the rider set off in a canter. The banker was
+      high in air, his loins bent back, his rein slackened, his right hand
+      raised knowingly&mdash;when the horse took fright at an object crouched by
+      the haystack&mdash;swerved, plunged midway into the ditch, and pitched its
+      rider two or three yards over its head. The banker recovered himself
+      sooner than might have been expected; and, finding himself, though bruised
+      and shaken, still whole and sound, hastened to his horse. But the poor
+      animal had not fared so well as its master, and its off-shoulder was
+      either put out or dreadfully sprained. It had scrambled its way out of the
+      ditch, and there it stood disconsolate by the hedge, as lame as one of the
+      trees that, at irregular intervals, broke the symmetry of the barrier. On
+      ascertaining the extent of his misfortune, the banker became seriously
+      uneasy; the rain increased&mdash;he was several miles yet from home&mdash;he
+      was in the midst of houseless fields, with another leap before him&mdash;the
+      leap he had just passed behind&mdash;and no other egress that he knew of
+      into the main road. While these thoughts passed through his brain, he
+      became suddenly aware that he was not alone. The dark object that had
+      frightened his horse rose slowly from the snug corner it had occupied by
+      the haystack, and a gruff voice that made the banker thrill to the marrow
+      of his bones, cried, &ldquo;Holla, who the devil are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lame as his horse was, the banker instantly put his foot into the stirrup;
+      but before he could mount, a heavy gripe was laid on his shoulder&mdash;and
+      turning round with as much fierceness as he could assume, he saw&mdash;what
+      the tone of the voice had already led him to forebode&mdash;the ill-omened
+      and cut-throat features of Luke Darvil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! ha! my old annuitant, my clever feelosofer&mdash;jolly old boy&mdash;how
+      are you?&mdash;give us a fist. Who would have thought to meet you on a
+      rainy night, by a lone haystack, with a deep ditch on one side, and no
+      chimney-pot within sight? Why, old fellow, I, Luke Darvil,&mdash;I, the
+      vagabond&mdash;I whom you would have sent to the treadmill for being poor,
+      and calling on my own daughter&mdash;I am as rich as you are here&mdash;and
+      as great, and as strong, and as powerful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And while he spoke, Darvil, who was really an undersized man, seemed to
+      swell and dilate, till he appeared half a head taller than the shrinking
+      banker, who was five feet eleven inches without his shoes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;E-hem!&rdquo; said the rich man, clearing his throat, which seemed to him
+      uncommonly husky; &ldquo;I do not know whether I insulted your poverty, my dear
+      Mr. Darvil&mdash;I hope not; but this is hardly a time for talking&mdash;pray
+      let me mount, and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a time for talking!&rdquo; interrupted Darvil angrily; &ldquo;it&rsquo;s just the time
+      to my mind: let me consider,&mdash;ay, I told you that whenever we met by
+      the roadside it would be my turn to have the best of the argufying.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare say&mdash;I dare say, my good fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fellow not me!&mdash;I won&rsquo;t be fellowed now. I say I have the best of it
+      here&mdash;man to man&mdash;I am your match.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why quarrel with me?&rdquo; said the banker, coaxingly; &ldquo;I never meant you
+      harm, and I am sure you cannot mean me harm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&mdash;and why?&rdquo; asked Darvil, coolly;&mdash;&ldquo;why do you think I can
+      mean you no harm?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because your annuity depends on me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shrewdly put&mdash;we&rsquo;ll argufy that point. My life is a bad one, not
+      worth more than a year&rsquo;s purchase; now, suppose you have more than forty
+      pounds about you&mdash;it may be better worth my while to draw my knife
+      across your gullet than to wait for the quarter-day&rsquo;s ten pounds a time.
+      You see it&rsquo;s all a matter of calculation, my dear, Mr. What&rsquo;s-your-name!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; replied the banker, and his teeth began to chatter, &ldquo;I have not
+      forty pounds about me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do I know that?&mdash;you say so. Well, in the town yonder your word
+      goes for more than mine; I never gainsaid you when you put that to me, did
+      I? But here, by the haystack, my word is better than yours; and if I say
+      you must and shall have forty pounds about you, let&rsquo;s see whether you dare
+      contradict me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look you, Darvil,&rdquo; said the banker, summoning up all his energy and
+      intellect, for his moral power began now to back his physical cowardice,
+      and he spoke calmly, and even bravely, though his heart throbbed aloud
+      against his breast, and you might have knocked him down with a feather&mdash;&ldquo;the
+      London runners are even now hot after you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha!&mdash;you lie!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Upon my honour I speak the truth; I heard the news last evening. They
+      tracked you to C&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;; they tracked you out of the town; a
+      word from me would have given you into their hands. I said nothing&mdash;you
+      are safe&mdash;you may yet escape. I will even help you to fly the
+      country, and live out your natural date of years, secure and in peace.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You did not say that the other day in the snug drawing-room; you see I
+      have the best of it now&mdash;own that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do,&rdquo; said the banker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Darvil chuckled, and rubbed his hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man of wealth once more felt his importance, and went on. &ldquo;This is one
+      side of the question. On the other, suppose you rob and murder me, do you
+      think my death will lessen the heat of the pursuit against you? The whole
+      country will be in arms, and before forty-eight hours are over you will be
+      hunted down like a mad dog.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Darvil was silent, as if in thought; and after a pause, replied: &ldquo;Well,
+      you are a &lsquo;cute one after all. What have you got about you? you know you
+      drove a hard bargain the other day&mdash;now it&rsquo;s my market&mdash;fustian
+      has riz&mdash;kersey has fell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All I have about me shall be yours,&rdquo; said the banker, eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give it me, then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There!&rdquo; said the banker, placing his purse and pocketbook into Darvil&rsquo;s
+      bands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the watch?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The watch?&mdash;well there!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The banker&rsquo;s senses were sharpened by fear, but they were not so sharp as
+      those of Darvil; he heard nothing but the rain pattering on the leaves,
+      and the rush of water in the ditch at hand. Darvil stooped and listened&mdash;till,
+      raising himself again, with a deep-drawn breath, he said, &ldquo;I think there
+      are rats in the haystack; they will be running over me in my sleep; but
+      they are playful creturs, and I like &lsquo;em. And now, my <i>dear</i> sir, I
+      am afraid I must put an end to you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Heavens, what do you mean? How?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Man, there is another world!&rdquo; quoth the ruffian, mimicking the banker&rsquo;s
+      solemn tone in their former interview. &ldquo;So much the better for you! In
+      that world they don&rsquo;t tell tales.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I swear I will never betray you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do?&mdash;swear it, then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By all my hopes of earth and heaven!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a d&mdash;&mdash;-d coward you be!&rdquo; said Darvil, laughing
+      scornfully. &ldquo;Go&mdash;you are safe. I am in good humour with myself again.
+      I crow over you, for no man can make me tremble. And villain as you think
+      me, while you fear me you cannot despise&mdash;you respect me. Go, I say&mdash;go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The banker was about to obey, when suddenly, from the haystack, a broad,
+      red light streamed upon the pair, and the next moment Darvil was seized
+      from behind, and struggling in the gripe of a man nearly as powerful as
+      himself. The light, which came from a dark-lanthorn, placed on the ground,
+      revealed the forms of a peasant in a smock-frock, and two stout-built,
+      stalwart men, armed with pistols&mdash;besides the one engaged with
+      Darvil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The whole of this scene was brought as by the trick of the stage&mdash;as
+      by a flash of lightning&mdash;as by the change of a showman&rsquo;s
+      phantasmagoria&mdash;before the astonished eyes of the banker. He stood
+      arrested and spell-bound, his hand on his bridle, his foot on his stirrup.
+      A moment more and Darvil had clashed his antagonist on the ground; he
+      stood at a little distance, his face reddened by the glare of the lanthorn
+      and fronting his assailants&mdash;that fiercest of all beasts, a desperate
+      man at bay! He had already succeeded in drawing forth his pistols, and he
+      held one in each hand&mdash;his eyes flashing from beneath his bent brows
+      and turning quickly from foe to foe! At last those terrible eyes rested on
+      the late reluctant companion of his solitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So <i>you</i> then betrayed me,&rdquo; he said, very slowly, and directed his
+      pistol to the head of the dismounted horseman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no!&rdquo; cried one of the officers, for such were Darvil&rsquo;s assailants;
+      &ldquo;fire away in this direction, my hearty&mdash;we&rsquo;re paid for it. The
+      gentleman knew nothing at all about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing, by G&mdash;!&rdquo; cried the banker, startled out of his sanctity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I shall keep my shot,&rdquo; said Darvil; &ldquo;and mind, the first who
+      approaches me is a dead man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It so happened that the robber and the officers were beyond the distance
+      which allows sure mark for a pistol-shot, and each party felt the
+      necessity of caution.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your time is up, my swell cove!&rdquo; cried the head of the detachment; &ldquo;you
+      have had your swing, and a long one it seems to have been&mdash;you must
+      now give in. Throw down your barkers, or we must make mutton of you, and
+      rob the gallows.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Darvil did not reply, and the officers, accustomed to hold life cheap,
+      moved on towards him&mdash;their pistols cocked and levelled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Darvil fired&mdash;one of the men staggered and fell. With a kind of
+      instinct Darvil had singled out the one with whom he had before wrestled
+      for life. The ruffian waited not for the others&mdash;he turned and fled
+      along the fields.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zounds, he is off!&rdquo; cried the other two, and they rushed after him in
+      pursuit. A pause&mdash;a shot&mdash;another&mdash;an oath&mdash;a groan&mdash;and
+      all was still.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s all up with him now,&rdquo; said one of the runners, in the distance; &ldquo;he
+      dies game.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At these words, the peasant, who had before skulked behind the haystack,
+      seized the lanthorn from the ground, and ran to the spot. The banker
+      involuntarily followed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There lay Luke Darvil on the grass&mdash;still living, but a horrible and
+      ghastly spectacle. One ball had pierced his breast, another had shot away
+      his jaw. His eyes rolled fearfully, and he tore up the grass with his
+      hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The officers looked coldly on. &ldquo;He was a clever fellow!&rdquo; said one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And has given us much trouble,&rdquo; said the other; &ldquo;let us see to Will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he&rsquo;s not dead yet,&rdquo; said the banker, shuddering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir, he cannot live a minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Darvil raised himself bolt upright&mdash;shook his clenched fist at his
+      conquerors, and a fearful gurgling howl, which the nature of his wounds
+      did not allow him to syllable into a curse, came from his breast&mdash;with
+      that he fell flat on his back&mdash;a corpse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid, sir,&rdquo; said the elder officer, turning away, &ldquo;you had a
+      narrow escape&mdash;but how came you here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rather, how came <i>you</i> here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Honest Hodge there, with the lanthorn, had marked the fellow skulk behind
+      the haystack, when he himself was going out to snare rabbits. He had seen
+      our advertisement of Watts&rsquo; person, and knew that we were then at a public
+      house some miles off. He came to us&mdash;conducted us to the spot&mdash;we
+      heard voices&mdash;showed up the glim&mdash;and saw our man. Hodge, you
+      are a good subject, and love justice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yees, but I shall have the rewourd,&rdquo; said Hodge, showing his teeth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Talk o&rsquo; that by and by,&rdquo; said the officer. &ldquo;Will, how are you, man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bad,&rdquo; groaned the poor runner, and a rush of blood from the lips followed
+      the groan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was many days before the ex-member for C&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;
+      sufficiently recovered the tone of his mind to think further of Alice;
+      when he did, it was with great satisfaction that he reflected that Darvil
+      was no more, and that the deceased ruffian was only known to the
+      neighbourhood by the name of Peter Watts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      BOOK V.
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      PARODY.
+    </h3>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  My hero, turned author, lies mute in this section,
+  You may pass by the place if you&rsquo;re bored by reflection:
+  But if honest enough to be fond of the Muse,
+  Stay, and read where you&rsquo;re able, and sleep where you choose.
+   THEOC. <i>Epig. in Hippon</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+        &ldquo;My genius spreads her wing,
+  And flies where Britain courts the western spring.
+
+</pre>
+    <hr />
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,
+  I see the lords of human kind pass by,
+  Intent on high designs."-GOLDSMITH.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      I HAVE no respect for the Englishman who re-enters London after long
+      residence abroad without a pulse that beats quick and a heart that heaves
+      high. The public buildings are few, and, for the most part, mean; the
+      monuments of antiquity not comparable to those which the pettiest town in
+      Italy can boast of; the palaces are sad rubbish; the houses of our peers
+      and princes are shabby and shapeless heaps of brick. But what of all this?
+      the spirit of London is in her thoroughfares&mdash;her population! What
+      wealth&mdash;what cleanliness&mdash;what order&mdash;what animation! How
+      majestic, and yet how vivid, is the life that runs through her myriad
+      veins! How, as the lamps blaze upon you at night, and street after street
+      glides by your wheels, each so regular in its symmetry, so equal in its
+      civilization&mdash;how all speak of the CITY OF FREEMEN.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes, Maltravers felt his heart swell within him as the post-horses whirled
+      on his dingy carriage&mdash;over Westminster Bridge&mdash;along Whitehall&mdash;through
+      Regent Street&mdash;towards one of the quiet and private-house-like hotels
+      that are scattered round the neighbourhood of Grosvenor Square.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ernest&rsquo;s arrival had been expected. He had written from Paris to Cleveland
+      to announce it; and Cleveland had, in reply, informed him that he had
+      engaged apartments for him at Mivart&rsquo;s. The smiling waiters ushered him
+      into a spacious and well-aired room&mdash;the armchair was already wheeled
+      by the fire&mdash;a score or so of letters strewed the table, together
+      with two of the evening papers. And how eloquently of busy England do
+      those evening papers speak! A stranger might have felt that he wanted no
+      friend to welcome him&mdash;the whole room smiled on him a welcome.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers ordered his dinner and opened his letters: they were of no
+      importance; one from his steward, one from his banker, another about the
+      county races, a fourth from a man he had never heard of, requesting the
+      vote and powerful interest of Mr. Maltravers for the county of B&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;,
+      should the rumour of a dissolution be verified; the unknown candidate
+      referred Mr. Maltravers to his &ldquo;well-known public character.&rdquo; From these
+      epistles Ernest turned impatiently, and perceived a little three-cornered
+      note which had hitherto escaped his attention. It was from Cleveland,
+      intimating that he was in town; that his health still precluded his going
+      out, but that he trusted to see his dear Ernest as soon as he arrived.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers was delighted at the prospect of passing his evening so
+      agreeably; he soon despatched his dinner and his newspapers, and walked in
+      the brilliant lamplight of a clear frosty evening of early December in
+      London, to his friend&rsquo;s house in Curzon Street: a small house,
+      bachelor-like and unpretending; for Cleveland spent his moderate though
+      easy fortune almost entirely at his country villa. The familiar face of
+      the old valet greeted Ernest at the door, and he only paused to hear that
+      his guardian was nearly recovered to his usual health, ere he was in the
+      cheerful drawing-room, and&mdash;since Englishmen do not embrace&mdash;returning
+      the cordial gripe of the kindly Cleveland.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, my dear Ernest,&rdquo; said Cleveland, after they had gone through the
+      preliminary round of questions and answers, &ldquo;here you are at last: Heaven
+      be praised; and how well you are looking&mdash;how much you are improved!
+      It is an excellent period of the year for your <i>debut</i> in London. I
+      shall have time to make you intimate with people before the whirl of &lsquo;the
+      season&rsquo; commences.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, I thought of going to Burleigh, my country-place. I have not seen it
+      since I was a child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no! you have had solitude enough at Como, if I may trust to your
+      letter; you must now mix with the great London world; and you will enjoy
+      Burleigh the more in the summer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fancy this great London world will give me very little pleasure; it may
+      be pleasant enough to young men just let loose from college, but your
+      crowded ball-rooms and monotonous clubs will be wearisome to one who has
+      grown fastidious before his time. <i>J&rsquo;ai vecu beaucoup dans peu d&rsquo;annees</i>.
+      I have drawn in youth too much upon the capital of existence to be highly
+      delighted with the ostentatious parsimony with which our great men
+      economise pleasure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t judge before you have gone through the trial,&rdquo; said Cleveland:
+      &ldquo;there is something in the opulent splendour, the thoroughly sustained
+      magnificence, with which the leaders of English fashion conduct even the
+      most insipid amusements, that is above contempt. Besides, you need not
+      necessarily live with the butterflies. There are plenty of bees that will
+      be very happy to make your acquaintance. Add to this, my dear Ernest, the
+      pleasure of being made of&mdash;of being of importance in your own
+      country. For you are young, well-born, and sufficiently handsome to be an
+      object of interest to mothers and to daughters; while your name, and
+      property, and interest, will make you courted by men who want to borrow
+      your money and obtain your influence in your county. No, Maltravers, stay
+      in London&mdash;amuse yourself your first year, and decide on your
+      occupation and career the next; but reconnoitre before you give battle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers was not ill-pleased to follow his friend&rsquo;s advice, since by so
+      doing he obtained his friend&rsquo;s guidance and society. Moreover, he deemed
+      it wise and rational to see, face to face, the eminent men in England,
+      with whom, if he fulfilled his promise to De Montaigne, he was to run the
+      race of honourable rivalry. Accordingly, he consented to Cleveland&rsquo;s
+      propositions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And have you,&rdquo; said he, hesitating, as he loitered by the door after the
+      stroke of twelve had warned him to take his leave&mdash;&ldquo;have you never
+      heard anything of my&mdash;my&mdash;the unfortunate Alice Darvil?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who?&mdash;Oh, that poor young woman; I remember!&mdash;not a syllable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers sighed deeply and departed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Je trouve que c&rsquo;est une folie de vouloir etudier le monde en
+  simple spectateur. * * * Dans l&rsquo;ecole du monde, comme dans
+  cette de l&rsquo;amour, il faut commencer par pratiquer cc qu&rsquo;on veut
+  apprendre.&rdquo; *&mdash;ROUSSEAU.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      * I find that it is a folly to wish to study the world like a simple
+      spectator. * * * In the school of the world, as in that of love, it is
+      necessary to begin by practising what we wish to learn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      ERNEST MALTRAVERS was now fairly launched upon the wide ocean of London.
+      Amongst his other property was a house in Seamore Place&mdash;that quiet,
+      yet central street, which enjoys the air without the dust of the park. It
+      had been hitherto let, and, the tenant now quitting very opportunely,
+      Maltravers was delighted to secure so pleasant a residence: for he was
+      still romantic enough to desire to look out upon trees and verdure rather
+      than brick houses. He indulged only in two other luxuries: his love of
+      music tempted him to an opera-box, and he had that English feeling which
+      prides itself in the possession of beautiful horses,&mdash;a feeling that
+      enticed him into an extravagance on this head that baffled the competition
+      and excited the envy of much richer men. But four thousand a year goes a
+      great way with a single man who does not gamble, and is too philosophical
+      to make superfluities wants.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The world doubled his income, magnified his old country-seat into a superb
+      chateau, and discovered that his elder brother, who was only three or four
+      years older than himself, had no children. The world was very courteous to
+      Ernest Maltravers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was, as Cleveland said, just at that time of year when people are at
+      leisure to make new acquaintances. A few only of the most difficult houses
+      in town were open; and their doors were cheerfully expanded to the
+      accomplished ward of the popular Cleveland. Authors and statesmen, and
+      orators, and philosophers&mdash;to all he was presented;&mdash;all seemed
+      pleased with him, and Ernest became the fashion before he was conscious of
+      the distinction. But he had rightly foreboded. He had commenced life too
+      soon; he was disappointed; he found some persons he could admire, some
+      whom he could like, but none with whom he could grow intimate, or for whom
+      he could feel an interest. Neither his heart nor his imagination was
+      touched; all appeared to him like artificial machines; he was discontented
+      with things like life, but in which something or other was wanting. He
+      more than ever recalled the brilliant graces of Valerie de Ventadour,
+      which had thrown a charm over the most frivolous circles; he even missed
+      the perverse and fantastic vanity of Castruccio. The mediocre poet seemed
+      to him at least less mediocre than the worldlings about him. Nay, even the
+      selfish good spirits and dry shrewdness of Lumley Ferrers would have been
+      an acceptable change to the dull polish and unrevealed egotism of jealous
+      wits and party politicians. &ldquo;If these are the flowers of the parterre,
+      what must be the weeds?&rdquo; said Maltravers to himself, returning from a
+      party at which he had met half a score of the most orthodox lions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He began to feel the aching pain of satiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the winter glided away&mdash;the season commenced, and Maltravers was
+      whirled on with the rest into the bubbling vortex.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;And crowds commencing mere vexation,
+  Retirement sent its invitation.&rdquo;&mdash;SHENSTONE.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      THE tench, no doubt, considers the pond in which he lives as the Great
+      World. There is no place, however stagnant, which is not the great world
+      to the creatures that move about, in it. People who have lived all their
+      lives in a village still talk of the world as if they had ever seen it! An
+      old woman in a hovel does not put her nose out of her door on a Sunday
+      without thinking she is going amongst the pomps and vanities of the great
+      world. <i>Ergo</i>, the great world is to all of us the little circle in
+      which we live. But as fine people set the fashion, so the circle of fine
+      people is called the Great World <i>par excellence</i>. Now this great
+      world is not a bad thing when we thoroughly understand it; and the London
+      great world is at least as good as any other. But then we scarcely do
+      understand that or anything else in our <i>beaux jours</i>,&mdash;which,
+      if they are sometimes the most exquisite, are also often the most
+      melancholy and the most wasted portion of our life. Maltravers had not yet
+      found out either <i>the set</i> that pleased him or the species of
+      amusement that really amused. Therefore he drifted on and about the vast
+      whirlpool, making plenty of friends&mdash;going to balls and dinners&mdash;and
+      bored with both as men are who have no object in society. Now the way
+      society is enjoyed is to have a pursuit, a <i>metier</i> of some kind, and
+      then to go into the world, either to make the individual object a social
+      pleasure, or to obtain a reprieve from some toilsome avocation. Thus, if
+      you are a politician&mdash;politics at once make an object in your closet,
+      and a social tie between others and yourself when you are in the world.
+      The same may be said of literature, though in a less degree; and though,
+      as fewer persons care about literature than politics, your companions must
+      be more select. If you are very young, you are fond of dancing; if you are
+      very profligate, perhaps you are fond of flirtations with your friend&rsquo;s
+      wife. These last are objects in their way: but they don&rsquo;t last long, and,
+      even with the most frivolous, are not occupations that satisfy the whole
+      mind and heart, in which there is generally an aspiration after something
+      useful. It is not vanity alone that makes a man of the <i>mode</i> invent
+      a new bit or give his name to a new kind of carriage; it is the influence
+      of that mystic yearning after utility, which is one of the master-ties
+      between the individual and the species.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers was not happy&mdash;that is a lot common enough; but he was not
+      amused&mdash;and that is a sentence more insupportable. He lost a great
+      part of his sympathy with Cleveland, for, when a man is not amused, he
+      feels an involuntary contempt for those who are. He fancies they are
+      pleased with trifles which his superior wisdom is compelled to disdain.
+      Cleveland was of that age when we generally grow social&mdash;for by being
+      rubbed long and often against the great loadstone of society, we obtain,
+      in a thousand little minute points, an attraction in common with our
+      fellows. Their petty sorrows and small joys&mdash;their objects of
+      interest or employment, at some time or other have been ours. We gather up
+      a vast collection of moral and mental farthings of exchange: and we
+      scarcely find any intellect too poor, but what we can deal with it in some
+      way. But in youth, we are egotists and sentimentalists, and Maltravers
+      belonged to the fraternity who employ
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   &ldquo;The heart in passion and the head in rhymes.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      At length&mdash;just when London begins to grow most pleasant&mdash;when
+      flirtations become tender, and water-parties numerous&mdash;when birds
+      sing in the groves of Richmond, and whitebait refresh the statesman by the
+      shores of Greenwich,&mdash;Maltravers abruptly fled from the gay
+      metropolis, and arrived, one lovely evening in July, at his own ivy-grown
+      porch of Burleigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What a soft, fresh, delicious evening it was! He had quitted his carriage
+      at the lodge, and followed it across the small but picturesque park alone
+      and on foot. He had not seen the place since childhood&mdash;he had quite
+      forgotten its aspect. He now wondered how he could have lived anywhere
+      else. The trees did not stand in stately avenues, nor did the antlers of
+      the deer wave above the sombre fern; it was not the domain of a grand
+      seigneur, but of an old, long-descended English squire. Antiquity spoke in
+      the moss-grown palings in the shadowy groves, in the sharp gable-ends and
+      heavy mullions of the house, as it now came in view, at the base of a hill
+      covered with wood&mdash;and partially veiled by the shrubs of the
+      neglected pleasure-ground, separated from the park by the invisible ha-ha.
+      There, gleamed in the twilight the watery face of the oblong fish-pool,
+      with its old-fashioned willows at each corner&mdash;there, grey and
+      quaint, was the monastic dial&mdash;and there was the long terrace walk,
+      with discoloured and broken vases, now filled with the orange or the aloe,
+      which, in honour of his master&rsquo;s arrival, the gardener had extracted from
+      the dilapidated green-house. The very evidence of neglect around, the very
+      weeds and grass on the half-obliterated road, touched Maltravers with a
+      sort of pitying and remorseful affection for his calm and sequestered
+      residence. And it was not with his usual proud step and erect crest that
+      he passed from the porch to the solitary library, through a line of his
+      servants:&mdash;the two or three old retainers belonging to the place were
+      utterly unfamiliar to him, and they had no smile for their stranger lord.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;<i>Lucian.</i> He that is born to be a man neither should nor can
+  be anything nobler, greater, and better than a man.
+
+ &ldquo;<i>Peregrine.</i> But, good Lucian, for the very reason that he may
+  not become less than a man, he should be always striving to be
+  more.&rdquo;&mdash;WIELAND&rsquo;S <i>Peregrinus Proteus</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      IT was two years from the date of the last chapter before Maltravers again
+      appeared in general society. These two years had sufficed to produce a
+      revolution in his fate. Ernest Maltravers had lost the happy rights of the
+      private individual; he had given himself to the Public; he had surrendered
+      his name to men&rsquo;s tongues, and was a thing that all had a right to praise,
+      to blame, to scrutinise, to spy. Ernest Maltravers had become an author.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Let no man tempt Gods and Columns, without weighing well the consequences
+      of his experiment. He who publishes a book, attended with a moderate
+      success, passes a mighty barrier. He will often look back with a sigh of
+      regret at the land he has left for ever. The beautiful and decent
+      obscurity of hearth and home is gone. He can no longer feel the just
+      indignation of manly pride when he finds himself ridiculed or reviled. He
+      has parted with the shadow of his life. His motives may be misrepresented,
+      his character belied; his manners, his person, his dress, the &ldquo;very trick
+      of his walk&rdquo; are all fair food for the cavil and the caricature. He can
+      never go back, he cannot even pause; he has chosen his path, and all the
+      natural feelings that make the nerve and muscle of the active being urge
+      him to proceed. To stop short is to fail. He has told the world that he
+      will make a name; and he must be set down as a pretender, or toil on till
+      the boast be fulfilled. Yet Maltravers thought nothing of all this when,
+      intoxicated with his own dreams and aspirations, he desired to make a
+      world his confidant; when from the living nature, and the lore of books,
+      and the mingled result of inward study and external observation, he sought
+      to draw forth something that might interweave his name with the
+      pleasurable associations of his kind. His easy fortune and lonely state
+      gave him up to his own thoughts and contemplations; they suffused his
+      mind, till it ran over upon the page which makes the channel that connects
+      the solitary Fountain with the vast Ocean of Human Knowledge. The
+      temperament of Maltravers was, as we have seen, neither irritable nor
+      fearful. He formed himself, as a sculptor forms, with a model before his
+      eyes and an ideal in his heart. He endeavoured, with labour and patience,
+      to approach nearer and nearer with every effort to the standard of such
+      excellence as he thought might ultimately be attained by a reasonable
+      ambition; and when, at last, his judgment was satisfied, he surrendered
+      the product with a tranquil confidence to a more impartial tribunal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His first work was successful; perhaps for this reason&mdash;that it bore
+      the stamp of the Honest and the Real. He did not sit down to report of
+      what he had never seen, to dilate on what he had never felt. A quiet and
+      thoughtful observer of life, his descriptions were the more vivid, because
+      his own first impressions were not yet worn away. His experience had sunk
+      deep; not on the arid surface of matured age, but in the fresh soil of
+      youthful emotions. Another reason, perhaps, that obtained success for his
+      essay was, that he had more varied and more elaborate knowledge than young
+      authors think it necessary to possess. He did not, like Cesarini, attempt
+      to make a show of words upon a slender capital of ideas. Whether his style
+      was eloquent or homely; it was still in him a faithful transcript of
+      considered and digested thought. A third reason&mdash;and I dwell on these
+      points not more to elucidate the career of Maltravers than as hints which
+      may be useful to others&mdash;a third reason why Maltravers obtained a
+      prompt and favourable reception from the public was, that he had not
+      hackneyed his peculiarities of diction and thought in that worst of all
+      schools for the literary novice&mdash;the columns of a magazine.
+      Periodicals form an excellent mode of communication between the public and
+      an author <i>already</i> established, who has lost the charm of novelty,
+      but gained the weight of acknowledged reputation; and who, either upon
+      politics or criticism, seeks for frequent and continuous occasions to
+      enforce his peculiar theses and doctrines. But, upon the young writer,
+      this mode of communication, if too long continued, operates most
+      injuriously both as to his future prospects and his own present taste and
+      style. With respect to the first, it familiarises the public to his
+      mannerism (and all writers worth reading have mannerism) in a form to
+      which the said public are not inclined to attach much weight. He
+      forestalls in a few months what ought to be the effect of years; namely,
+      the wearying a world soon nauseated with the <i>toujours perdrix</i>. With
+      respect to the last, it induces a man to write for momentary effects; to
+      study a false smartness of style and reasoning; to bound his ambition of
+      durability to the last day of the month; to expect immediate returns for
+      labour; to recoil at the &ldquo;hope deferred&rdquo; of serious works on which
+      judgment is slowly formed. The man of talent who begins young at
+      periodicals, and goes on long, has generally something crude and stunted
+      about both his compositions and his celebrity. He grows the oracle of
+      small coteries; and we can rarely get out of the impression that he is
+      cockneyfied and conventional. Periodicals sadly mortgaged the claims that
+      Hazlitt, and many others of his contemporaries, had upon a vast
+      reversionary estate of Fame. But I here speak too politically; to some the
+      <i>res angustoe domi</i> leave no option. And, as Aristotle and the Greek
+      proverb have it, we cannot carve out all things with the knife of the
+      Delphic cutler.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The second work that Maltravers put forth, at an interval of eighteen
+      months from the first, was one of a graver and higher nature; it served to
+      confirm his reputation: and that is success enough for a second work,
+      which is usually an author&rsquo;s &ldquo;<i>pons asinorum</i>.&rdquo; He who, after a
+      triumphant first book, does not dissatisfy the public with a second, has a
+      fair chance of gaining a fixed station in literature. But now commenced
+      the pains and perils of the after-birth. By a maiden effort an author
+      rarely makes enemies. His fellow-writers are not yet prepared to consider
+      him as a rival; if he be tolerably rich, they unconsciously trust that he
+      will not become a regular, or, as they term it, &ldquo;a professional&rdquo; author:
+      he did something just to be talked of; he may write no more, or his second
+      book may fail. But when that second book comes out, and does not fail,
+      they begin to look about them; envy wakens, malice begins. And all the old
+      school&mdash;gentlemen who have retired on their pensions of renown&mdash;regard
+      him as an intruder: then the sneer, then the frown, the caustic irony, the
+      biting review, the depreciating praise. The novice begins to think that he
+      is further from the goal than before he set out upon the race.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers had, upon the whole, a tolerably happy temperament; but he was
+      a very proud man, and he had the nice soul of a courageous, honourable,
+      punctilious gentleman. He thought it singular that society should call
+      upon him, as a gentleman, to shoot his best friend, if that friend
+      affronted him with a rude word; and yet that, as an author, every fool and
+      liar might, with perfect impunity, cover reams of paper with the most
+      virulent personal abuse of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was one evening in the early summer that, revolving anxious and
+      doubtful thoughts, Ernest sauntered gloomily along his terrace,
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   &ldquo;And watched with wistful eyes the setting sun.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      when he perceived a dusty travelling carriage whirled along the road by
+      the ha-ha, and a hand waved in recognition from the open window. His
+      guests had been so rare, and his friends were so few, that Maltravers
+      could not conjecture who was his intended visitant. His brother, he knew,
+      was in London. Cleveland, from whom he had that day heard, was at his
+      villa. Ferrers was enjoying himself in Vienna. Who could it be? We may say
+      of solitude what we please; but, after two years of solitude, a visitor is
+      a pleasurable excitement. Maltravers retraced his steps, entered his
+      house, and was just in time to find himself almost in the arms of De
+      Montaigne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;Quid tam dextro pede concipis ut te,
+  Conatus non poeniteat, votique peracti?&rdquo; *&mdash;JUV.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      * What, under such happy auspices do you conceive that you may not repent
+      of your endeavour and accomplished wish?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;YES,&rdquo; said De Montaigne, &ldquo;in my way I also am fulfilling my destiny. I am
+      a member of the <i>Chambre des Deputes</i>, and on a visit to England upon
+      some commercial affairs. I found myself in your neighbourhood, and, of
+      course, could not resist the temptation: so you must receive me as your
+      guest for some days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I congratulate you cordially on your senatorial honours. I have already
+      heard of your rising name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I return the congratulations with equal warmth. You are bringing my
+      prophecies to pass. I have read your works with increased pride at our
+      friendship.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers sighed slightly, and half turned away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The desire of distinction,&rdquo; said he, after a pause, &ldquo;grows upon us till
+      excitement becomes disease. The child who is born with the mariner&rsquo;s
+      instinct laughs with glee when his paper bark skims the wave of a pool. By
+      and by nothing will content him but the ship and the ocean.&mdash;Like the
+      child is the author.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am pleased with your simile,&rdquo; said De Montaigne, smiling. &ldquo;Do not spoil
+      it, but go on with your argument.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers continued: &ldquo;Scarcely do we win the applause of a moment, ere we
+      summon the past and conjecture the future. Our contemporaries no longer
+      suffice for competitors, our age for the Court to pronounce on our claims:
+      we call up the Dead as our only true rivals&mdash;we appeal to Posterity
+      as our sole just tribunal. Is this vain in us? Possibly. Yet such vanity
+      humbles. &lsquo;Tis then only we learn all the difference between Reputation and
+      Fame&mdash;between To-Day and Immortality!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think,&rdquo; replied De Montaigne, &ldquo;that the dead did not feel the same
+      when they first trod the path that leads to the life beyond life? Continue
+      to cultivate the mind, to sharpen by exercise the genius, to attempt to
+      delight or to instruct your race; and even supposing you fall short of
+      every model you set before you&mdash;supposing your name moulder with your
+      dust, still you will have passed life more nobly than the unlaborious
+      herd. Grant that you win not that glorious accident, &lsquo;a name below,&rsquo; how
+      can you tell but what you may have fitted yourself for high destiny and
+      employ in the world not of men, but of spirits? The powers of the mind are
+      things that cannot be less immortal than the mere sense of identity; their
+      acquisitions accompany us through the Eternal Progress; and we may obtain
+      a lower or a higher grade hereafter, in proportion as we are more or less
+      fitted by the exercise of our intellect to comprehend and execute the
+      solemn agencies of God. The wise man is nearer to the angels than the fool
+      is. This may be an apocryphal dogma, but it is not an impossible theory.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But we may waste the sound enjoyments of actual life in chasing the hope
+      you justly allow to be &lsquo;apocryphal;&rsquo; and our knowledge may go for nothing
+      in the eyes of the Omniscient.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said De Montaigne, smiling; &ldquo;but answer me honestly. By the
+      pursuits of intellectual ambition do you waste the sound enjoyments of
+      life? If so, you do not pursue the system rightly. Those pursuits ought
+      only to quicken your sense for such pleasures as are the true relaxations
+      of life. And this, with you peculiarly, since you are fortunate enough not
+      to depend for subsistence upon literature;&mdash;did you do so, I might
+      rather advise you to be a trunkmaker than an author. A man ought not to
+      attempt any of the highest walks of Mind and Art, as the mere provision of
+      daily bread; not literature alone, but everything else of the same degree.
+      He ought not to be a statesman, or an orator, or a philosopher, as a thing
+      of pence and shillings: and usually all men, save the poor poet, feel this
+      truth insensibly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This may be fine preaching,&rdquo; said Maltravers; &ldquo;but you may be quite sure
+      that the pursuit of literature is a pursuit apart from the ordinary
+      objects of life, and you cannot command the enjoyments of both.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think otherwise,&rdquo; said De Montaigne; &ldquo;but it is not in a country house
+      eighty miles from the capital, without wife, guests, or friends, that the
+      experiment can be fairly made. Come, Maltravers, I see before you a brave
+      career, and I cannot permit you to halt at the onset.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not see all the calumnies that are already put forth against me,
+      to say nothing of all the assurances (and many by clever men) that there
+      is nothing in me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dennis was a clever man, and said the same thing of your Pope. Madame de
+      Sevigne was a clever woman, but she thought Racine would never be very
+      famous. Milton saw nothing in the first efforts of Dryden that made him
+      consider Dryden better than a rhymester. Aristophanes was a good judge of
+      poetry, yet how ill he judged of Euripides! But all this is commonplace,
+      and yet you bring arguments that a commonplace answers in evidence against
+      yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it is unpleasant not to answer attacks&mdash;not to retaliate on
+      enemies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then answer attacks, and retaliate on enemies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But would that be wise?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If it give you pleasure&mdash;it would not please <i>me</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, De Montaigne, you are reasoning Socratically. I will ask you
+      plainly and bluntly, would you advise an author to wage war on his
+      literary assailants, or to despise them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Both; let him attack but few, and those rarely. But it is his policy to
+      show that he is one whom it is better not to provoke too far. The author
+      always has the world on his side against the critics, if he choose his
+      opportunity. And he must always recollect that he is &lsquo;A STATE&rsquo; in himself,
+      which must sometimes go to war in order to procure peace. The time for war
+      or for peace must be left to the State&rsquo;s own diplomacy and wisdom.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You would make us political machines.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would make every man&rsquo;s conduct more or less mechanical; for system is
+      the triumph of mind over matter; the just equilibrium of all the powers
+      and passions may seem like machinery. Be it so. Nature meant the world&mdash;the
+      creation&mdash;man himself, for machines.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And one must even be in a passion mechanically, according to your
+      theories.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A man is a poor creature who is not in a passion sometimes; but a very
+      unjust, or a very foolish one, if he be in a passion with the wrong
+      person, and in the wrong place and time. But enough of this, it is growing
+      late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And when will Madame visit England?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, not yet, I fear. But you will meet Cesarini in London this year or
+      the next. He is persuaded that you did not see justice done to his poems,
+      and is coming here as soon as his indolence will let him, to proclaim your
+      treachery in a biting preface to some toothless satire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Satire!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; more than one of your poets made their way by a satire, and Cesarini
+      is persuaded he shall do the same. Castruccio is not as far-sighted as his
+      namesake, the Prince of Lucca. Good night, my dear Ernest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;When with much pains this boasted learning&rsquo;s got,
+  &lsquo;Tis an affront to those who have it not.&rdquo;
+    CHURCHILL: <i>The Author</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      THERE was something in De Montaigne&rsquo;s conversation, which, without actual
+      flattery, reconciled Maltravers to himself and his career. It served less,
+      perhaps, to excite than to sober and brace his mind. De Montaigne could
+      have made no man rash, but he could have made many men energetic and
+      persevering. The two friends had some points in common; but Maltravers had
+      far more prodigality of nature and passion about him&mdash;had more of
+      flesh and blood, with the faults and excellences of flesh and blood. De
+      Montaigne held so much to his favourite doctrine of moral equilibrium,
+      that he had really reduced himself in much to a species of clockwork. As
+      impulses are formed from habits, so the regularity of De Montaigne&rsquo;s
+      habits made his impulses virtuous and just, and he yielded to them as
+      often as a hasty character might have done; but then those impulses never
+      urged to anything speculative or daring. De Montaigne could not go beyond
+      a certain defined circle of action. He had no sympathy for any reasonings
+      based purely on the hypotheses of the imagination: he could not endure
+      Plato, and he was dumb to the eloquent whispers of whatever was refining
+      in poetry or mystical in wisdom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers, on the contrary, not disdaining Reason, ever sought to assist
+      her by the Imaginative Faculty, and held all philosophy incomplete and
+      unsatisfactory that bounded its inquiries to the limits of the Known and
+      Certain. He loved the inductive process; but he carried it out to
+      Conjecture as well as Fact. He maintained that, by a similar hardihood,
+      all the triumphs of science, as well as art, had been accomplished&mdash;that
+      Newton, that Copernicus, would have done nothing if they had not imagined
+      as well as reasoned, guessed as well as ascertained. Nay, it was an
+      aphorism with him, that the very soul of philosophy is conjecture. He had
+      the most implicit confidence in the operations of the mind and the heart
+      properly formed, and deemed that the very excesses of emotion and thought,
+      in men well trained by experience and study, are conducive to useful and
+      great ends. But the more advanced years, and the singularly practical
+      character of De Montaigne&rsquo;s views, gave him a superiority in argument over
+      Maltravers which the last submitted to unwillingly. While, on the other
+      hand, De Montaigne secretly felt that his young friend reasoned from a
+      broader base, and took in a much wider circumference; and that he was, at
+      once, more liable to failure and error, and more capable of new discovery
+      and of intellectual achievement. But their ways in life being different,
+      they did not clash; and De Montaigne, who was sincerely interested in
+      Ernest&rsquo;s fate, was contented to harden his friend&rsquo;s mind against the
+      obstacles in his way, and leave the rest to experiment and to Providence.
+      They went up to London together: and De Montaigne returned to Paris.
+      Maltravers appeared once more in the haunts of the gay and great. He felt
+      that his new character had greatly altered his position. He was no longer
+      courted and caressed for the same vulgar and adventitious circumstances of
+      fortune, birth, and connections, as before&mdash;yet for circumstances
+      that to him seemed equally unflattering. He was not sought for his merit,
+      his intellect, his talents; but for his momentary celebrity. He was an
+      author in fashion, and run after as anything else in fashion might have
+      been. He was invited, less to be talked to than to be stared at. He was
+      far too proud in his temper, and too pure in his ambition, to feel his
+      vanity elated by sharing the enthusiasm of the circles with a German
+      prince or an industrious flea. Accordingly he soon repelled the advances
+      made to him, was reserved and supercilious to fine ladies, refused to be
+      the fashion, and became very unpopular with the literary exclusives. They
+      even began to run down the works, because they were dissatisfied with the
+      author. But Maltravers had based his experiments upon the vast masses of
+      the general Public. He had called the PEOPLE of his own and other
+      countries to be his audience and his judges; and all the coteries in the
+      world could have not injured him. He was like the member for an immense
+      constituency, who may offend individuals, so long as he keep his footing
+      with the body at large. But while he withdrew himself from the insipid and
+      the idle, he took care not to become separated from the world. He formed
+      his own society according to his tastes: took pleasure in the manly and
+      exciting topics of the day; and sharpened his observation and widened his
+      sphere as an author, by mixing freely and boldly with all classes as a
+      citizen. But literature became to him as art to the artist&mdash;as his
+      mistress to the lover&mdash;an engrossing and passionate delight. He made
+      it his glorious and divine profession&mdash;he loved it as a profession&mdash;he
+      devoted to its pursuits and honours his youth, cares, dreams&mdash;his
+      mind, and his heart, and his soul. He was a silent but intense enthusiast
+      in the priesthood he had entered. From LITERATURE he imagined had come all
+      that makes nations enlightened and men humane. And he loved Literature the
+      more, because her distinctions were not those of the world&mdash;because
+      she had neither ribbands, nor stars, nor high places at her command. A
+      name in the deep gratitude and hereditary delight of men&mdash;this was
+      the title she bestowed. Hers was the Great Primitive Church of the world,
+      without Popes or Muftis&mdash;sinecures, pluralities and hierarchies. Her
+      servants spoke to the earth as the prophets of old, anxious only to be
+      heard and believed. Full of this fanaticism, Ernest Maltravers pursued his
+      way in the great procession of the myrtle-bearers to the sacred shrine. He
+      carried the thyrsus, and he believed in the god. By degrees his fanaticism
+      worked in him the philosophy which De Montaigne would have derived from
+      sober calculation; it made him indifferent to the thorns in the path, to
+      the storms in the sky. He learned to despise the enmity he provoked, the
+      calumnies that assailed him. Sometimes he was silent, but sometimes he
+      retorted. Like a soldier who serves a cause, he believed that when the
+      cause was injured in his person, the weapons confided to his hands might
+      be wielded without fear and without reproach. Gradually he became feared
+      as well as known. And while many abused him, none could contemn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It would not suit the design of this work to follow Maltravers step by
+      step in his course. I am only describing the principal events, not the
+      minute details, of his intellectual life. Of the character of his works it
+      will be enough to say that, whatever their faults, they were original&mdash;they
+      were his own. He did not write according to copy, nor compile from
+      commonplace books. He was an artist, it is true,&mdash;for what is genius
+      itself but art? but he took laws, and harmony, and order, from the great
+      code of Truth and Nature: a code that demands intense and unrelaxing study&mdash;though
+      its first principles are few and simple: that study Maltravers did not
+      shrink from. It was a deep love of truth that made him a subtle and
+      searching analyst, even in what the dull world considers trifles; for he
+      knew that nothing in literature is in itself trifling&mdash;that it is
+      often but a hairsbreadth that divides a truism from a discovery. He was
+      the more original, because he sought rather after the True than the New.
+      No two minds are ever the same; and therefore any man who will give us
+      fairly and frankly the results of his own impressions, uninfluenced by the
+      servilities of imitation, will be original. But it was not from
+      originality, which really made his predominant merit, that Maltravers
+      derived his reputation, for his originality was not of that species which
+      generally dazzles the vulgar&mdash;it was not extravagant nor <i>bizarre</i>&mdash;he
+      affected no system and no school. Many authors of his day seemed more
+      novel and <i>unique</i> to the superficial. Profound and durable invention
+      proceeds by subtle and fine gradations&mdash;it has nothing to do with
+      those jerks and starts, those convulsions and distortions, which belong
+      not to the vigour and health, but to the epilepsy and disease, of
+      Literature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Being got out of town, the first thing I did was to give my
+  mule her head.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Gil Blas</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      ALTHOUGH the character of Maltravers was gradually becoming more hard and
+      severe,&mdash;although as his reason grew more muscular, his imagination
+      lost something of its early bloom, and he was already very different from
+      the wild boy who had set the German youths in a blaze, and had changed
+      into a Castle of Indolence the little cottage tenanted with Poetry and
+      Alice,&mdash;he still preserved many of his old habits; he loved, at
+      frequent intervals, to disappear from the great world&mdash;to get rid of
+      books and friends, and luxury and wealth, and make solitary excursions,
+      sometimes on foot, sometimes on horseback, through this fair garden of
+      England.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was one soft May-day that he found himself on such an expedition,
+      slowly riding through one of the green lanes of &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;shire.
+      His cloak and his saddle-bags comprised all his baggage, and the world was
+      before him &ldquo;where to choose his place of rest.&rdquo; The lane wound at length
+      into the main road, and just as he came upon it he fell in with a gay
+      party of equestrians.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Foremost of its cavalcade rode a lady in a dark green habit, mounted on a
+      thoroughbred English horse, which she managed with so easy a grace that
+      Maltravers halted in involuntary admiration. He himself was a consummate
+      horseman, and he had the quick eye of sympathy for those who shared the
+      accomplishment. He thought, as he gazed, that he had never seen but one
+      woman whose air and mien on horseback were so full of that nameless
+      elegance which skill and courage in any art naturally bestow&mdash;that
+      woman was Valerie de Ventadour. Presently, to his great surprise, the lady
+      advanced from her companions, neared Maltravers, and said, in a voice
+      which he did not at first distinctly recognise&mdash;&ldquo;Is it possible?&mdash;do
+      I see Mr. Maltravers?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She paused a moment, and then threw aside her veil, and Ernest beheld&mdash;Madame
+      de Ventadour! By this time a tall, thin gentleman had joined the
+      Frenchwoman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has <i>madame</i> met with an acquaintance?&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;and, if so, will
+      she permit me to partake her pleasure?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The interruption seemed a relief to Valerie;&mdash;she smiled and
+      coloured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me introduce you to Mr. Maltravers. Mr. Maltravers, this is my host,
+      Lord Doningdale.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two gentlemen bowed, the rest of the cavalcade surrounded the trio,
+      and Lord Doningdale, with a stately yet frank courtesy, invited Maltravers
+      to return with the party to his house, which was about four miles distant.
+      As may be supposed, Ernest readily accepted the invitation. The cavalcade
+      proceeded, and Maltravers hastened to seek an explanation from Valerie. It
+      was soon given. Madame de Ventadour had a younger sister, who had lately
+      married a son of Lord Doningdale. The marriage had been solemnized in
+      Paris, and Monsieur and Madame de Ventadour had been in England a week on
+      a visit to the English peer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The <i>rencontre</i> was so sudden and unexpected that neither recovered
+      sufficient self-possession for fluent conversation. The explanation given,
+      Valerie sank into a thoughtful silence, and Maltravers rode by her side
+      equally taciturn, pondering on the strange chance which, after the lapse
+      of years, had thrown them again together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Doningdale, who at first lingered with his other visitors, now joined
+      them, and Maltravers was struck with his high-bred manner, and a singular
+      and somewhat elaborate polish in his emphasis and expression. They soon
+      entered a noble park, which attested far more care and attention than are
+      usually bestowed upon those demesnes, so peculiarly English. Young
+      plantations everywhere contrasted the venerable groves&mdash;new cottages
+      of picturesque design adorned the outskirts&mdash;and obelisks and
+      columns, copied from the antique, and evidently of recent workmanship,
+      gleamed upon them as they neared the house&mdash;a large pile, in which
+      the fashion of Queen Anne&rsquo;s day had been altered into the French roofs and
+      windows of the architecture of the Tuileries. &ldquo;You reside much in the
+      country, I am sure, my lord,&rdquo; said Maltravers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Lord Doningdale, with a pensive air, &ldquo;this place is greatly
+      endeared to me. Here his Majesty Louis XVIII., when in England, honoured
+      me with an annual visit. In compliment to him, I sought to model my poor
+      mansion into an humble likeness of his own palace, so that he might as
+      little as possible miss the rights he had lost. His own rooms were
+      furnished exactly like those he had occupied at the Tuileries. Yes, the
+      place is endeared to me&mdash;I think of the old times with pride. It is
+      something to have sheltered a Bourbon in his misfortunes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It cost <i>milord</i> a vast sum to make these alterations,&rdquo; said Madame
+      de Ventadour, glancing archly at Maltravers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes,&rdquo; said the old lord; and his face, lately elated, became overcast&mdash;&ldquo;nearly
+      three hundred thousand pounds: but what then?&mdash;<i>&lsquo;Les souvenirs,
+      madame, sont sans prix</i>!&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you visited Paris since the restoration, Lord Doningdale,&rdquo; asked
+      Maltravers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His lordship looked at him sharply, and then turned his eye to Madame de
+      Ventadour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; said Valerie; laughing, &ldquo;I did not dictate the question.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Lord Doningdale, &ldquo;I have been at Paris.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His Majesty must have been delighted to return your lordship&rsquo;s
+      hospitality.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Doningdale looked a little embarrassed, and made no reply, but put
+      his horse into a canter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have galled our host,&rdquo; said Valerie, smiling. &ldquo;Louis XVIII. and his
+      friends lived here as long as they pleased, and as sumptuously as they
+      could; their visits half ruined the owner, who is the model of a <i>gentilhomme</i>
+      and <i>preux chevalier</i>. He went to Paris to witness their triumph; he
+      expected, I fancy, the order of the St. Esprit. Lord Doningdale has royal
+      blood in his veins. His Majesty asked him once to dinner, and, when he
+      took leave, said to him, &lsquo;We are happy, Lord Doningdale, to have thus
+      requited our obligations to your lordship.&rsquo; Lord Doningdale went back in
+      dudgeon, yet he still boasts of his <i>souvenirs</i>, poor man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Princes are not grateful, neither are republics,&rdquo; said Maltravers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, who is grateful,&rdquo; rejoined Valerie, &ldquo;except a dog and a woman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers found himself ushered into a vast dressing-room, and was
+      informed, by a French valet, that in the country Lord Doningdale dined at
+      six&mdash;the first bell would ring in a few minutes. While the valet was
+      speaking, Lord Doningdale himself entered the room. His lordship had
+      learned, in the meanwhile, that Maltravers was of the great and ancient
+      commoner&rsquo;s house whose honours were centred in his brother; and yet more,
+      that he was the Mr. Maltravers whose writings every one talked of, whether
+      for praise or abuse. Lord Doningdale had the two characteristics of a
+      high-bred gentleman of the old school&mdash;respect for birth and respect
+      for talent; he was, therefore, more than ordinarily courteous to Ernest,
+      and pressed him to stay some days with so much cordiality, that Maltravers
+      could not but assent. His travelling toilet was scanty, but Maltravers
+      thought little of dress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VIII.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;It is the soul that sees. The outward eyes
+  Present the object, but the mind descries;
+  And thence delight, disgust, or cool indifference rise.
+   &ldquo;CRABBE.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      WHEN Maltravers entered the enormous saloon, hung with damask, and
+      decorated with the ponderous enrichments and furniture of the time of
+      Louis XIV. (that most showy and barbarous of all tastes, which has nothing
+      in it of the graceful, nothing of the picturesque, and which, nowadays,
+      people who should know better imitate with a ludicrous servility), he
+      found sixteen persons assembled. His host stepped up from a circle which
+      surrounded him, and formally presented his new visitor to the rest. He was
+      struck with the likeness which the sister of Valerie bore to Valerie
+      herself; but it was a sobered and chastened likeness&mdash;less handsome,
+      less impressive. Mrs. George Herbert&mdash;such was the name she now owned&mdash;was
+      a pretty, shrinking, timid girl, fond of her husband, and mightily awed by
+      her father-in-law. Maltravers sat by her, and drew her into conversation.
+      He could not help pitying the poor lady, when he found she was to live
+      altogether at Doningdale Park&mdash;remote from all the friends and habits
+      of her childhood&mdash;alone, so far as the affections were concerned,
+      with a young husband, who was passionately fond of field-sports, and who,
+      from the few words Ernest exchanged with him, seemed to have only three
+      ideas&mdash;his dogs, his horses, and his wife. Alas! the last would soon
+      be the least in importance. It is a sad position&mdash;that of a lively
+      young Frenchwoman entombed in an English country-house! Marriages with
+      foreigners are seldom fortunate experiments. But Ernest&rsquo;s attention was
+      soon diverted from the sister by the entrance of Valerie herself, leaning
+      on her husband&rsquo;s arm. Hitherto he had not very minutely observed what
+      change time had effected in her&mdash;perhaps he was half afraid. He now
+      gazed at her with curious interest. Valerie was still extremely handsome,
+      but her face had grown sharper, her form thinner and more angular; there
+      was something in her eye and lip, discontented, restless, almost
+      querulous:&mdash;such is the too common expression in the face of those
+      born to love, and condemned to be indifferent. The little sister was more
+      to be envied of the two&mdash;come what may, she loved her husband, such
+      as he was, and her heart might ache, but it was not with a void.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monsieur de Ventadour soon shuffled up to Maltravers&mdash;his nose longer
+      than ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hein&mdash;hein&mdash;how d&rsquo;ye do&mdash;how d&rsquo;ye do?&mdash;charmed to see
+      you&mdash;saw madame before me&mdash;hein&mdash;hein&mdash;I suspect&mdash;I
+      suspect&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Maltravers, will you give Madame de Ventadour your arm?&rdquo; said Lord
+      Doningdale, as he stalked on to the dining-room with a duchess on his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you have left Naples,&rdquo; said Maltravers: &ldquo;left it for good?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We do not think of returning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was a charming place&mdash;how I loved it!&mdash;how well I remember
+      it!&rdquo; Ernest spoke calmly&mdash;it was but a general remark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Valerie sighed gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      During dinner, the conversation between Maltravers and Madame de Ventadour
+      was vague and embarrassed. Ernest was no longer in love with her&mdash;he
+      had outgrown that youthful fancy. She had exercised influence over him&mdash;the
+      new influences that he had created had chased away her image. Such is
+      life. Long absences extinguish all the false lights, though not the true
+      ones. The lamps are dead in the banquet-room of yesterday; but a thousand
+      years hence, and the stars we look on to-night will burn as brightly.
+      Maltravers was no longer in love with Valerie. But Valerie&mdash;ah,
+      perhaps <i>hers</i> had been true love!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers was surprised when he came to examine the state of his own
+      feelings&mdash;he was surprised to find that his pulse did not beat
+      quicker at the touch of one whose very glance had once thrilled him to the
+      soul&mdash;he was surprised, but rejoiced. He was no longer anxious to
+      seek, but to shun excitement, and he was a better and a higher being than
+      he had been on the shores of Naples.
+    </p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0239}.jpg" alt="{0239}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0239}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5>
+
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IX.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Whence that low voice, a whisper from the heart,
+  That told of days long past?&rdquo;&mdash;WORDSWORTH.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      ERNEST stayed several days at Lord Doningdale&rsquo;s, and every day he rode out
+      with Valerie, but it was with a large party; and every evening he
+      conversed with her, but the whole world might have overheard what they
+      said. In fact, the sympathy that had once existed between the young
+      dreamer and the proud, discontented woman had in much passed away.
+      Awakened to vast and grand objects, Maltravers was a dreamer no more.
+      Inured to the life of trifles she had once loathed, Valerie had settled
+      down into the usages and thoughts of the common world&mdash;she had no
+      longer the superiority of earthly wisdom over Maltravers, and his romance
+      was sobered in its eloquence, and her ear dulled to its tone. Still Ernest
+      felt a deep interest in her, and still she seemed to feel a sensitive
+      pride in his career.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One evening Maltravers had joined a circle in which Madame de Ventadour,
+      with more than her usual animation, presided&mdash;and to which, in her
+      pretty, womanly, and thoroughly French way, she was lightly laying down
+      the law on a hundred subjects&mdash;Philosophy, Poetry, Sevres china, and
+      the balance of power in Europe. Ernest listened to her, delighted, but not
+      enchanted. Yet Valerie was not natural that night&mdash;she was speaking
+      from forced spirits.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Madame de Ventadour at last, tired, perhaps of the part she
+      had been playing, and bringing to a sudden close an animated description
+      of the then French court&mdash;&ldquo;well, see now if we ought not to be
+      ashamed of ourselves&mdash;our talk has positively interrupted the music.
+      Did you see Lord Doningdale stop it with a bow to me, as much as to say,
+      with his courtly reproof, &lsquo;It shall not disturb you, madam&rsquo;? I will no
+      longer be accessory to your crime of bad taste!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With this the Frenchwoman rose, and, gliding through the circle, retired
+      to the further end of the room. Ernest followed her with his eyes.
+      Suddenly she beckoned to him, and he approached and seated himself by her
+      side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Maltravers,&rdquo; said Valerie, then, with great sweetness in her voice,&mdash;&ldquo;I
+      have not yet expressed to you the delight I have felt from your genius. In
+      absence you have suffered me to converse with you&mdash;your books have
+      been to me dear friends; as we shall soon part again, let me now tell you
+      of this, frankly and without compliment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This paved the way to a conversation that approached more on the precincts
+      of the past than any they had yet known. But Ernest was guarded; and
+      Valerie watched his words and looks with an interest she could not conceal&mdash;an
+      interest that partook of disappointment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is an excitement,&rdquo; said Valerie, &ldquo;to climb a mountain, though it
+      fatigue; and though the clouds may even deny us a prospect from its summit&mdash;it
+      is an excitement that gives a very universal pleasure, and that seems
+      almost as if it were the result of a common human instinct which makes us
+      desire to rise&mdash;to get above the ordinary thoroughfares and level of
+      life. Some such pleasure you must have in intellectual ambition, in which
+      the mind is the upward traveller.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not the <i>ambition</i> that pleases,&rdquo; replied Maltravers, &ldquo;it is
+      the following a path congenial to our tastes, and made dear to us in a
+      short time by habit. The moments in which we look beyond our work, and
+      fancy ourselves seated beneath the Everlasting Laurel, are few. It is the
+      work itself, whether of action or literature, that interests and excites
+      us. And at length the dryness of toil takes the familiar sweetness of
+      custom. But in intellectual labour there is another charm&mdash;we become
+      more intimate with our own nature. The heart and the soul grow friends, as
+      it were, and the affections and the aspirations unite. Thus, we are never
+      without society&mdash;we are never alone; all that we have read, learned
+      and discovered, is company to us. This is pleasant,&rdquo; added Maltravers, &ldquo;to
+      those who have no clear connections in the world without.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And is that your case?&rdquo; asked Valerie, with a timid smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas, yes! and since I conquered one affection,&mdash;Madame de
+      Ventadour, I almost think I have outlived the capacity of loving. I
+      believe that when we cultivate very largely the reason or the imagination,
+      we blunt, to a certain extent, our young susceptibilities to the fair
+      impressions of real life. From &lsquo;idleness,&rsquo; says the old Roman poet, &lsquo;Love
+      feeds his torch.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are too young to talk thus.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I speak as I feel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Valerie said no more. Shortly afterwards Lord Doningdale approached them,
+      and proposed that they should make an excursion the next day to see the
+      ruins of an old abbey, some few miles distant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER X.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;If I should meet thee
+  After long years,
+  How shall I greet thee?&rdquo;&mdash;BYRON.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      IT was a smaller party than usual the next day, consisting only of Lord
+      Doningdale, his son George Herbert, Valerie and Ernest. They were
+      returning from the ruins, and the sun, now gradually approaching the west,
+      threw its slant rays over the gardens and houses of a small, picturesque
+      town, or, perhaps, rather village, on the high North Road. It is one of
+      the prettiest places in England, that town or village, and boasts an
+      excellent old-fashioned inn, with a large and quaint pleasure-garden. It
+      was through the long and straggling street that our little party slowly
+      rode, when the sky became suddenly overcast, and, a few large hailstones
+      falling, gave notice of an approaching storm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told you we should not get safely through the day,&rdquo; said George
+      Herbert. &ldquo;Now we are in for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;George, that is a vulgar expression,&rdquo; said Lord Doningdale, buttoning up
+      his coat. While he spoke, a vivid flash of lightning darted across their
+      very path, and the sky grew darker and darker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We may as well rest at the inn,&rdquo; said Maltravers: &ldquo;the storm is coming on
+      apace, and Madame de Ventadour&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right,&rdquo; interrupted Lord Doningdale; and he put his horse into a
+      canter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were soon at the door of the old hotel. Bells rang dogs barked&mdash;hostlers
+      ran. A plain, dark, travelling post-chariot was before the inn-door; and,
+      roused perhaps by the noise below, a lady in the &ldquo;first-floor front, No.
+      2,&rdquo; came to the window. This lady owned the travelling-carriage, and was
+      at this time alone in that apartment. As she looked carelessly at the
+      party, her eyes rested on one form&mdash;she turned pale, uttered a faint
+      cry, and fell senseless on the floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile, Lord Doningdale and his guests were shown into the room next to
+      that tenanted by the lady. Properly speaking, both the rooms made one long
+      apartment for balls and county meetings, and the division was formed by a
+      thin partition, removable at pleasure. The hail now came on fast and
+      heavy, the trees groaned, the thunder roared; and in the large, dreary
+      room there was a palpable and oppressive sense of coldness and discomfort.
+      Valerie shivered&mdash;a fire was lighted&mdash;and the Frenchwoman drew
+      near to it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are wet, my dear lady,&rdquo; said Lord Doningdale. &ldquo;You should take off
+      that close habit, and have it dried.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no; what matters it?&rdquo; said Valerie bitterly, and almost rudely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It matters everything,&rdquo; said Ernest; &ldquo;pray be ruled.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And do you care for me?&rdquo; murmured Valerie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you ask that question?&rdquo; replied Ernest, in the same tone, and with
+      affectionate and friendly warmth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile, the good old lord had summoned the chambermaid, and, with the
+      kindly imperiousness of a father, made Valerie quit the room. The three
+      gentlemen, left together, talked of the storm, wondered how long it would
+      last, and debated the propriety of sending to Doningdale for the carriage.
+      While they spoke, the hail suddenly ceased, though clouds in the distant
+      horizon were bearing heavily up to renew the charge. George Herbert, who
+      was the most impatient of mortals, especially of rainy weather in a
+      strange place, seized the occasion, and insisted on riding to Doningdale,
+      and sending back the carriage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely a groom would do as well, George,&rdquo; said the father.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear father, no; I should envy the rogue too much. I am bored to death
+      here. Marie will be frightened about us. Brown Bess will take me back in
+      twenty minutes. I am a hardy fellow, you know. Good-bye.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Away darted the young sportsman, and in two minutes they saw him spur
+      gaily from the inn-door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very odd that <i>I</i> should have such a son,&rdquo; said Lord
+      Doningdale, musingly,&mdash;&ldquo;a son who cannot amuse himself indoors for
+      two minutes together. I took great pains with his education, too. Strange
+      that people should weary so much of themselves that they cannot brave the
+      prospect of a few minutes passed in reflection&mdash;that a shower and the
+      resources of their own thoughts are evils so galling&mdash;very strange
+      indeed. But it is a confounded climate this, certainly. I wonder when it
+      will clear up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus muttering, Lord Doningdale walked, or rather marched, to and fro the
+      room, with his hands in his coat pockets, and his whip sticking
+      perpendicularly out of the right one. Just at this moment the waiter came
+      to announce that his lordship&rsquo;s groom was without, and desired much to see
+      him. Lord Doningdale had then the pleasure of learning that his favourite
+      grey hackney, which he had ridden, winter and summer, for fifteen years,
+      was taken with shivers, and, as the groom expressed it, seemed to have
+      &ldquo;the colic in its bowels!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Doningdale turned pale, and hurried to the stables without saying a
+      word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers, who, plunged in thought, had not overheard the low and brief
+      conference between master and groom, remained alone, seated by the fire,
+      his head buried in his bosom, and his arms folded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile, the lady, who occupied the adjoining chamber, had recovered
+      slowly from her swoon. She put both hands to her temples, as if trying to
+      recollect her thoughts. Hers was a fair, innocent, almost childish face;
+      and now, as a smile shot across it, there was something so sweet and
+      touching in the gladness it shed over that countenance, that you could not
+      have seen it without strong and almost painful interest. For it was the
+      gladness of a person who has known sorrow. Suddenly she started up, and
+      said: &ldquo;No, then! I do not dream. He is come back&mdash;he is here&mdash;all
+      will be well again! Ha! it is his voice. Oh, bless him, it is <i>his</i>
+      voice!&rdquo; She paused, her finger on her lip, her face bent down. A low and
+      indistinct sound of voices reached her straining ear through the thin door
+      that divided her from Maltravers. She listened intently, but she could not
+      overhear the import. Her heart beat violently. &ldquo;He is not alone!&rdquo; she
+      murmured, mournfully. &ldquo;I will wait till the sound ceases, and then I will
+      venture in!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And what was the conversation carried on in that chamber? We must return
+      to Ernest. He was sitting in the same thoughtful posture when Madame de
+      Ventadour returned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Frenchwoman coloured when she found herself alone with Ernest, and
+      Ernest himself was not at his ease.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Herbert has gone home to order the carriage, and Lord Doningdale has
+      disappeared, I scarce know whither. You do not, I trust, feel the worse
+      for the rain?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Valerie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall you have any commands in London?&rdquo; asked Maltravers; &ldquo;I return to
+      town to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So soon!&rdquo; and Valerie sighed. &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; she added, after a pause, &ldquo;we shall
+      not meet again for years, perhaps. Monsieur de Ventadour is to be
+      appointed ambassador to the Court and so&mdash;and so&mdash;. Well, it is
+      no matter. What has become of the friendship we once swore to each other?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is here,&rdquo; said Maltravers, laying his hand on his heart. &ldquo;Here, at
+      least, lies the half of that friendship which was my charge; and more than
+      friendship, Valerie de Ventadour&mdash;respect&mdash;admiration&mdash;gratitude.
+      At a time of life when passion and fancy, most strong, might have left me
+      an idle and worthless voluptuary, you convinced me that the world has
+      virtue, and that woman is too noble to be our toy&mdash;the idol of
+      to-day, the victim of to-morrow. Your influence, Valerie, left me a more
+      thoughtful man&mdash;I hope a better one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Madame de Ventadour, strongly affected; &ldquo;I bless you for what
+      you tell me: you cannot know&mdash;you cannot guess how sweet it is to me.
+      Now I recognise you once more. What&mdash;what did my resolution cost me?
+      Now I am repaid!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ernest was moved by her emotion, and by his own remembrances; he took her
+      hand, and pressing it with frank and respectful tenderness&mdash;&ldquo;I did
+      not think, Valerie,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;when I reviewed the past, I did not think
+      that you loved me&mdash;I was not vain enough for that; but, if so, how
+      much is your character raised in my eyes&mdash;how provident, how wise
+      your virtue! Happier and better for both, our present feelings, each to
+      each, than if we had indulged a brief and guilty dream of passion, at war
+      with all that leaves passion without remorse, and bliss without alloy. Now&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; interrupted Valerie, quickly, and fixing on him her dark eyes&mdash;&ldquo;now
+      you love me no longer! Yet it is better so. Well, I will go back to my
+      cold and cheerless state of life, and forget once more that Heaven endowed
+      me with a heart!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, Valerie! esteemed, revered, still beloved, not indeed with the fires
+      of old, but with a deep, undying, and holy tenderness, speak not thus to
+      me. Let me not believe you unhappy; let me think that, wise, sagacious,
+      brilliant as you are, you have employed your gifts to reconcile yourself
+      to a common lot. Still let me look up to you when I would despise the
+      circles in which you live, and say: &lsquo;On that pedestal an altar is yet
+      placed, to which the heart may bring the offerings of the soul.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is in vain&mdash;in vain that I struggle,&rdquo; said Valerie, half-choked
+      with emotion, and clasping her hands passionately. &ldquo;Ernest, I love you
+      still&mdash;I am wretched to think you love me no more: I would give you
+      nothing&mdash;yet I exact all; my youth is going&mdash;my beauty dimmed&mdash;my
+      very intellect is dulled by the life I lead; and yet I ask from you that
+      which your young heart once felt for me. Despise me, Maltravers, I am not
+      what I seemed&mdash;I am a hypocrite&mdash;despise me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Ernest, again possessing himself of her hand, and falling on
+      his knee by her side. &ldquo;No, never-to-be-forgotten, ever-to-be-honoured
+      Valerie, hear me.&rdquo; As he spoke, he kissed the hand he held; with the
+      other, Valerie covered her face and wept bitterly, but in silence. Ernest
+      paused till the burst of her feelings had subsided, her hand still in his&mdash;still
+      warmed by his kisses&mdash;kisses as pure as cavalier ever impressed on
+      the hand of his queen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this time, the door communicating with the next room gently opened. A
+      fair form&mdash;a form fairer and younger than that of Valerie de
+      Ventadour&mdash;entered the apartment; the silence had deceived her&mdash;she
+      believed that Maltravers was alone. She had entered with her heart upon
+      her lips; love, sanguine, hopeful love, in every vein, in every thought&mdash;she
+      had entered dreaming that across that threshold life would dawn upon her
+      afresh&mdash;that all would be once more as it had been, when the common
+      air was rapture. Thus she entered; and now she stood spell-bound,
+      terror-stricken, pale as death&mdash;life turned to stone&mdash;youth&mdash;hope&mdash;bliss
+      were for ever over to her! Ernest kneeling to another was all she saw! For
+      this had she been faithful and true amidst storm and desolation; for this
+      had she hoped&mdash;dreamed&mdash;lived. They did not note her; she was
+      unseen&mdash;unheard. And Ernest, who would have gone barefoot to the end
+      of the earth to find her, was in the very room with her, and knew it not!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Call me again <i>beloved</i>!&rdquo; said Valerie, very softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beloved Valerie, hear me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These words were enough for the listener; she turned noiselessly away:
+      humble as that heart was, it was proud. The door closed on her&mdash;she
+      had obtained the wish of her whole being&mdash;Heaven had heard her prayer&mdash;she
+      had once more seen the lover of her youth; and thenceforth all was night
+      and darkness to her. What matter what became of her? One moment, what an
+      effect it produces upon years!&mdash;ONE MOMENT!&mdash;virtue, crime,
+      glory, shame, woe, rapture, rest upon moments! Death itself is but a
+      moment, yet Eternity is its successor!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hear me!&rdquo; continued Ernest, unconscious of what had passed&mdash;&ldquo;hear
+      me; let us be what human nature and worldly forms seldom allow those of
+      opposite sexes to be&mdash;friends to each other, and to virtue also&mdash;friends
+      through time and absence&mdash;friends through all the vicissitudes of
+      life&mdash;friends on whose affection shame and remorse never cast a shade&mdash;friends
+      who are to meet hereafter! Oh! there is no attachment so true, no tie so
+      holy, as that which is founded on the old chivalry of loyalty and honour;
+      and which is what love would be, if the heart and the soul were
+      unadulterated by clay.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was in Ernest&rsquo;s countenance an expression so noble, in his voice a
+      tone so thrilling, that Valerie was brought back at once to the nature
+      which a momentary weakness had subdued. She looked at him with an admiring
+      and grateful gaze, and then said, in a calm but low voice, &ldquo;Ernest, I
+      understand you; yes, your friendship is dearer to me than love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this time they heard the voice of Lord Doningdale on the stairs.
+      Valerie turned away. Maltravers, as he rose, extended his hand; she
+      pressed it warmly, and the spell was broken, the temptation conquered, the
+      ordeal passed. While Lord Doningdale entered the room, the carriage, with
+      Herbert in it, drove to the door. In a few minutes the little party were
+      within the vehicle. As they drove away, the hostlers were harnessing the
+      horses to the dark green travelling-carriage. From the window, a sad and
+      straining eye gazed upon the gayer equipage of the peer&mdash;that eye
+      which Maltravers would have given his whole fortune to meet again. But he
+      did not look up; and Alice Darvil turned away, and her fate was fixed!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XI.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Strange fits of passion I have known.
+   And I will dare to tell.&rdquo;&mdash;WORDSWORTH.
+
+  Is meditated action.&rdquo;&mdash;WORDSWORTH.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      MALTRAVERS left Doningdale the next day. He had no further conversation
+      with Valerie; but when he took leave of her, she placed in his hand a
+      letter, which he read as he rode slowly through the beech avenues of the
+      park. Translated, it ran thus:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Others would despise me for the weakness I showed&mdash;but you will not!
+      It is the sole weakness of a life. None can know what I have passed
+      through&mdash;what hours of dejection and gloom. I, whom so many envy!
+      Better to have been a peasant girl, with love, than a queen whose life is
+      but a dull mechanism. You, Maltravers, I never forgot in absence; and your
+      image made yet more wearisome and trite the things around me. Years
+      passed, and your name was suddenly on men&rsquo;s lips. I heard of you wherever
+      I went&mdash;I could not shut you from me. Your fame was as if you were
+      conversing by my side. We met at last, suddenly and unexpectedly. I saw
+      that you loved me no more, and that thought conquered all my resolves:
+      anguish subdues the nerves of the mind as sickness those of the body. And
+      thus I forgot, and humbled, and might have undone myself. Juster and
+      better thoughts are once more awakened within me, and when we meet again I
+      shall be worthy of your respect. I see how dangerous are that luxury of
+      thought, that sin of discontent which I indulged. I go back to life,
+      resolved to vanquish all that can interfere with its claims and duties.
+      Heaven guide and preserve you, Ernest. Think of me as one whom you will
+      not blush to have loved&mdash;whom you will not blush hereafter to present
+      to your wife. With so much that is soft, as well as great within you, you
+      were not formed like me&mdash;to be alone.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   &ldquo;FAREWELL!&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers read, and re-read this letter; and when he reached his home, he
+      placed it carefully amongst the things he most valued. A lock of Alice&rsquo;s
+      hair lay beside it&mdash;he did not think that either was dishonoured by
+      the contact.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With an effort, he turned himself once more to those stern yet high
+      connections which literature makes with real life. Perhaps there was a
+      certain restlessness in his heart which induced him ever to occupy his
+      mind. That was one of the busiest years of his life&mdash;the one in which
+      he did most to sharpen jealousy and confirm fame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XII.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;In effect he entered my apartment.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Gil Blas</i>.
+
+ &ldquo;&lsquo;I am surprised,&rsquo; said he, &lsquo;at the caprice of Fortune,
+  who sometimes delights in loading an execrable author
+  with favours, whilst she leaves good writers to perish
+  for want.&rsquo;&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Gil Blas</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      IT was just twelve months after his last interview with Valerie, and
+      Madame de Ventadour had long since quitted England, when one morning, as
+      Maltravers sat alone in his study, Castruccio Cesarini was announced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, my dear Castruccio, how are you?&rdquo; cried Maltravers, eagerly, as the
+      opening door presented the form of the Italian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; said Castruccio, with great stiffness, and speaking in French,
+      which was his wont when he meant to be distant&mdash;&ldquo;sir, I do not come
+      to renew our former acquaintance&mdash;you are a great man [here a bitter
+      sneer], I an obscure one [here Castruccio drew himself up]&mdash;I only
+      come to discharge a debt to you which I find I have incurred.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What tone is this, Castruccio; and what debt do you speak of?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On my arrival in town yesterday,&rdquo; said the poet solemnly, &ldquo;I went to the
+      man whom you deputed some years since to publish my little volume, to
+      demand an account of its success; and I found that it had cost one hundred
+      and twenty pounds, deducting the sale of forty-nine copies which had been
+      sold. <i>Your</i> books sell some thousands, I am told. It is well
+      contrived&mdash;mine fell still-born, no pains were taken with it&mdash;no
+      matter&mdash;[a wave of the hand]. You discharged this debt, I repay you:
+      there is a cheque for the money. Sir, I have done! I wish you a good day,
+      and health to enjoy <i>your</i> reputation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Cesarini, this is folly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it is folly; for there is no folly equal to that of throwing away
+      friendship in a world where friendship is so rare. You insinuate that I am
+      to blame for any neglect which your work experienced. Your publisher can
+      tell you that I was more anxious about your book than I have ever been
+      about my own.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the proof is that forty-nine copies were sold!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down, Castruccio; sit down, and listen to reason;&rdquo; and Maltravers
+      proceeded to explain, and soothe, and console. He reminded the poor poet
+      that his verses were written in a foreign tongue&mdash;that even English
+      poets of great fame enjoyed but a limited sale for their works&mdash;that
+      it was impossible to make the avaricious public purchase what the stupid
+      public would not take an interest in&mdash;in short, he used all those
+      arguments which naturally suggested themselves as best calculated to
+      convince and soften Castruccio; and he did this with so much evident
+      sympathy and kindness, that at length the Italian could no longer justify
+      his own resentment. A reconciliation took place, sincere on the part of
+      Maltravers, hollow on the part of Cesarini; for the disappointed author
+      could not forgive the successful one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how long shall you stay in London?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some months.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Send for your luggage, and be my guest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I have taken lodgings that suit me. I am formed for solitude.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;While you stay here, you will, however, go into the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I have some letters of introduction, and I hear that the English can
+      honour merit, even in an Italian.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You hear the truth, and it will amuse you, at least, to see our eminent
+      men. They will receive you most hospitably. Let me assist you as a
+      cicerone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, your <i>valuable</i> time!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is at your disposal: but where are you going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is Sunday, and I have had my curiosity excited to hear a celebrated
+      preacher&mdash;Mr. &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;, who they tell me, is now more
+      talked of than <i>any author</i> in London.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They tell you truly&mdash;I will go with you&mdash;I myself have not yet
+      heard him, but proposed to do so this very day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you not jealous of a man so much spoken of?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jealous!&mdash;why, I never set up for a popular preacher!&mdash;<i>ce
+      n&rsquo;est pas mon metier</i>.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I were a <i>successful</i> author, I should be jealous if the
+      dancing-dogs were talked of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, my dear Cesarini, I am sure you would not. You are a little irritated
+      at present by natural disappointment; but the man who has as much success
+      as he deserves is never morbidly jealous, even of a rival in his own line.
+      Want of success sours us; but a little sunshine smiles away the vapours.
+      Come, we have no time to lose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers took his hat, and the two young men bent their way to &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;
+      Chapel. Cesarini still retained the singular fashion of his dress, though
+      it was now made of handsomer materials, and worn with more coxcombry and
+      pretension. He had much improved in person&mdash;had been admired in
+      Paris, and told that he looked like a man of genius&mdash;and, with his
+      black ringlets flowing over his shoulders, his long moustache, his broad
+      Spanish-shaped hat, and eccentric garb, he certainly did not look like
+      other people. He smiled with contempt at the plain dress of his companion.
+      &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;that you follow the fashion, and look as if you passed
+      your life with <i>elegans</i> instead of students. I wonder you condescend
+      to such trifles as fashionably-shaped hats and coats.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would be worse trifling to set up for originality in hats and coats,
+      at least in sober England. I was born a gentleman, and I dress my outward
+      frame like others of my order. Because I am a writer, why should I affect
+      to be different from other men?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see that you are not above the weakness of your countryman Congreve,&rdquo;
+       said Cesarini, &ldquo;who deemed it finer to be a gentleman than an author.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I always thought that anecdote misconstrued. Congreve had a proper and
+      manly pride, to my judgment, when he expressed a dislike to be visited
+      merely as a raree-show.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But is it policy to let the world see that an author is like other
+      people? Would he not create a deeper personal interest if he showed that
+      even in person alone he was unlike the herd? He ought to be seen seldom&mdash;not
+      to stale his presence&mdash;and to resort to the arts that belong to the
+      royalty of intellect as well as the royalty of birth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare say an author, by a little charlatanism of that nature, might be
+      more talked of&mdash;might be more adored in the boarding-schools, and
+      make a better picture in the exhibition. But I think, if his mind be
+      manly, he would lose in self-respect at every quackery of the sort. And my
+      philosophy is, that to respect oneself is worth all the fame in the
+      world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cesarini sneered and shrugged his shoulders; it was quite evident that the
+      two authors had no sympathy with each other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They arrived at last at the chapel, and with some difficulty procured
+      seats.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the service began. The preacher was a man of unquestionable
+      talent and fervid eloquence; but his theatrical arts, his affected dress,
+      his artificial tones and gestures; and, above all, the fanatical mummeries
+      which he introduced into the House of God, disgusted Maltravers, while
+      they charmed, entranced, and awed Cesarini. The one saw a mountebank and
+      impostor&mdash;the other recognised a profound artist and an inspired
+      prophet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But while the discourse was drawing towards a close, while the preacher
+      was in one of his most eloquent bursts&mdash;the ohs! and ahs! of which
+      were the grand prelude to the pathetic peroration&mdash;the dim outline of
+      a female form, in the distance, riveted the eyes and absorbed the thoughts
+      of Maltravers. The chapel was darkened, though it was broad daylight; and
+      the face of the person that attracted Ernest&rsquo;s attention was concealed by
+      her head-dress and veil. But that bend of the neck, so simply graceful, so
+      humbly modest, recalled to his heart but one image. Every one has,
+      perhaps, observed that there is a physiognomy (if the bull may be
+      pardoned) of <i>form</i> as well as face, which it rarely happens that two
+      persons possess in common. And this, with most, is peculiarly marked in
+      the turn of the head, the outline of the shoulders, and the ineffable
+      something that characterises the postures of each individual in repose.
+      The more intently he gazed, the more firmly Ernest was persuaded that he
+      saw before him the long-lost, the never-to-be-forgotten mistress of his
+      boyish days, and his first love. On one side of the lady in question sat
+      an elderly gentleman, whose eyes were fixed upon the preacher; on the
+      other, a beautiful little girl, with long fair ringlets, and that cast of
+      features which, from its exquisite delicacy and expressive mildness,
+      painters and poets call the &ldquo;angelic.&rdquo; These persons appeared to belong to
+      the same party. Maltravers literally trembled, so great were his
+      impatience and agitation. Yet still, the dress of the supposed likeness of
+      Alice, the appearance of her companions, were so evidently above the
+      ordinary rank, that Ernest scarcely ventured to yield to the suggestions
+      of his own heart. Was it possible that the daughter of Luke Darvil, thrown
+      upon the wide world, could have risen so far beyond her circumstances and
+      station? At length the moment came when he might resolve his doubts&mdash;the
+      discourse was concluded&mdash;the extemporaneous prayer was at an end&mdash;the
+      congregation broke up, and Maltravers pushed his way, as well as he could,
+      through the dense and serried crowd. But every moment some vexatious
+      obstruction, in the shape of a fat gentleman or three close-wedged ladies,
+      intercepted his progress. He lost sight of the party in question amidst
+      the profusion of tall bonnets and waving plumes. He arrived at last,
+      breathless and pale as death (so great was the struggle within him), at
+      the door of the chapel. He arrived in time to see a plain carriage with
+      servants in grey undress liveries, driving from the porch&mdash;and caught
+      a glimpse, within the vehicle, of the golden ringlets of a child. He
+      darted forward, he threw himself almost before the horses. The coachman
+      drew in, and with an angry exclamation, very much like an oath, whipped
+      his horses aside and went off. But that momentary pause sufficed.&mdash;&ldquo;It
+      is she&mdash;it is! O Heaven, it is Alice!&rdquo; murmured Maltravers. The whole
+      place reeled before his eyes, and he clung, overpowered and unconscious,
+      to a neighbouring lamp-post for support. But he recovered himself with an
+      agonising effort, as the thought struck upon this heart that he was about
+      to lose sight of her again for ever. And he rushed forward, like one
+      frantic, in pursuit of the carriage. But there was a vast crowd of other
+      carriages, besides stream upon stream of foot-passengers,&mdash;for the
+      great and the gay resorted to that place of worship, as a fashionable
+      excitement in a dull day. And after a weary and a dangerous chase, in
+      which he had been nearly run over three times, Maltravers halted at last,
+      exhausted and in despair. Every succeeding Sunday, for months, he went to
+      the same chapel, but in vain; in vain, too, he resorted to every public
+      haunt of dissipation and amusement. Alice Darvil he beheld no more!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIII.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+        &ldquo;Tell me, sir,
+  Have you cast up your state, rated your land,
+  And find it able to endure the charge?&rdquo;
+    <i>The Noble Gentleman</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      By degrees, as Maltravers sobered down from the first shock of that
+      unexpected meeting, and from the prolonged disappointment that followed
+      it, he became sensible of a strange kind of happiness or contentment.
+      Alice was not in poverty, she was not eating the unhallowed bread of vice,
+      or earning the bitter wages of laborious penury. He saw her in reputable,
+      nay, opulent circumstances. A dark nightmare, that had often, amidst the
+      pleasures of youth, or the triumphs of literature, weighed upon his
+      breast, was removed. He breathed more freely&mdash;he could sleep in
+      peace. His conscience could no longer say to him, &ldquo;She who slept upon thy
+      bosom is a wanderer upon the face of the earth&mdash;exposed to every
+      temptation, perishing perhaps for want.&rdquo; That single sight of Alice had
+      been like the apparition of the injured Dead conjured up at Heraclea&mdash;whose
+      sight could pacify the aggressor and exorcise the spectres of remorse. He
+      was reconciled with himself, and walked on to the Future with a bolder
+      step and a statelier crest. Was she married to that staid and
+      sober-looking personage whom he had beheld with her? was that child the
+      offspring of their union? He almost hoped so&mdash;it was better to lose
+      than to destroy her. Poor Alice! could she have dreamed, when she sat at
+      his feet gazing up into his eyes, that a time would come when Maltravers
+      would thank Heaven for the belief that she was happy with another?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ernest Maltravers now felt a new man: the relief of conscience operated on
+      the efforts of his genius. A more buoyant and elastic spirit entered into
+      them&mdash;they seemed to breathe as with a second youth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile, Cesarini threw himself into the fashionable world, and to his
+      own surprise was <i>feted</i> and caressed. In fact, Castruccio was
+      exactly the sort of person to be made a lion of. The letters of
+      introduction that he had brought from Paris were addressed to those great
+      personages in England between whom and personages equally great in France
+      politics makes a bridge of connection. Cesarini appeared to them as an
+      accomplished young man, brother-in-law to a distinguished member of the
+      French Chamber. Maltravers, on the other hand, introduced him to the
+      literary dilettanti, who admire all authors that are not rivals. The
+      singular costume of Cesarini, which would have revolted persons in an
+      Englishman, enchanted them in an Italian. He looked, they said, like a
+      poet. Ladies like to have verses written to them, and Cesarini, who talked
+      very little, made up for it by scribbling eternally. The young man&rsquo;s head
+      soon grew filled with comparisons between himself in London and Petrarch
+      at Avignon. As he had always thought that fame was in the gift of lords
+      and ladies, and had no idea of the multitude, he fancied himself already
+      famous. And, since one of his strongest feelings was his jealousy of
+      Maltravers, he was delighted at being told he was a much more interesting
+      creature than that haughty personage, who wore his neckcloth like other
+      people, and had not even those indispensable attributes of genius&mdash;black
+      curls and a sneer. Fine society, which, as Madame de Stael well says,
+      depraves the frivolous mind and braces the strong one, completed the ruin
+      of all that was manly in Cesarini&rsquo;s intellect. He soon learned to limit
+      his desire of effect or distinction to gilded saloons; and his vanity
+      contented itself upon the scraps and morsels from which the lion heart of
+      true ambition turns in disdain. But this was not all. Cesarini was envious
+      of the greater affluence of Maltravers. His own fortune was in a small
+      capital of eight or nine thousand pounds: but, thrown in the midst of the
+      wealthiest society in Europe, he could not bear to sacrifice a single
+      claim upon its esteem. He began to talk of the satiety of wealth, and
+      young ladies listened to him with remarkable interest when he did so&mdash;he
+      obtained the reputation of riches&mdash;he was too vain not to be charmed
+      with it. He endeavoured to maintain the claim by adopting the extravagant
+      excesses of the day. He bought horses&mdash;he gave away jewels&mdash;he
+      made love to a marchioness of forty-two, who was very kind to him and very
+      fond of <i>ecarte</i>&mdash;he gambled&mdash;he was in the high road to
+      destruction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0057" id="link2H_4_0057">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      BOOK VI.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Perchance you say that gold&rsquo;s the arch-exceller,
+  And to be rich is sweet?&mdash;EURIP. <i>Ion.</i>, line 641.
+
+  * * * &lsquo;Tis not to be endured,
+  To yield our trodden path and turn aside,
+  Giving our place to knaves.&mdash;<i>Ibid.</i>, line 648
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;L&rsquo;adresse et l&rsquo;artifice out passe dans mon coeur;
+  Qu&rsquo;ou a sous cet habit et d&rsquo;esprit et de ruse.&rdquo; *&mdash;REGNARD.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      * Subtility and craft have taken possession of my heart; but under this
+      habit one exhibits both shrewdness and wit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      IT was a fine morning in July, when a gentleman who had arrived in town
+      the night before&mdash;after an absence from England of several years&mdash;walked
+      slowly and musingly up the superb thoroughfare which connects the Regent&rsquo;s
+      park with St. James&rsquo;s.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was a man, who, with great powers of mind, had wasted his youth in a
+      wandering vagabond kind of life, but who had worn away the love of
+      pleasure, and began to awaken to a sense of ambition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is astonishing how this city is improved,&rdquo; said he to himself.
+      &ldquo;Everything gets on in this world with a little energy and bustle&mdash;and
+      everybody as well as everything. My old cronies, fellows not half so
+      clever as I am, are all doing well. There&rsquo;s Tom Stevens, my very fag at
+      Eton&mdash;snivelling little dog he was too!&mdash;just made
+      under-secretary of state. Pearson, whose longs and shorts I always wrote,
+      is now head-master to the human longs and shorts of a public school&mdash;editing
+      Greek plays, and booked for a bishopric. Collier, I see by the papers, is
+      leading his circuit&mdash;and Ernest Maltravers (but <i>he</i> had some
+      talent) has made a name in the world. Here am I, worth them all put
+      together, who have done nothing but spend half my little fortune in spite
+      of all my economy. Egad, this must have an end. I must look to the main
+      chance; and yet, just when I want his help the most, my worthy uncle
+      thinks fit to marry again. Humph&mdash;I&rsquo;m too good for this world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While thus musing, the soliloquist came in direct personal contact with a
+      tall gentleman, who carried his head very high in the air, and did not
+      appear to see that he had nearly thrown our abstracted philosopher off his
+      legs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zounds, sir, what do you mean?&rdquo; cried the latter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your par&mdash;&rdquo; began the other, meekly, when his arm was seized,
+      and the injured man exclaimed, &ldquo;Bless me, sir, is it indeed <i>you</i>
+      whom I see?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha!&mdash;Lumley?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The same; and how fares it, any dear uncle? I did not know you were in
+      London. I only arrived last night. How well you are looking!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes, Heaven be praised, I am pretty well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And happy in your new ties? You must present me to Mrs. Templeton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ehem,&rdquo; said Mr. Templeton, clearing his throat, and with a slight but
+      embarrassed smile, &ldquo;I never thought I should marry again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>L&rsquo;homme propose et Dieu dispose</i>,&rdquo; observed Lumley Ferrers; for it
+      was he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gently, my dear nephew,&rdquo; replied Mr. Templeton, gravely; &ldquo;those phrases
+      are somewhat sacrilegious; I am an old-fashioned person, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ten thousand apologies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>One</i> apology will suffice; these hyperboles of phrase are almost
+      sinful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Confounded old prig!&rdquo; thought Ferrers; but he bowed sanctimoniously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear uncle, I have been a wild fellow in my day; but with years comes
+      reflection; and under your guidance, if I may hope for it, I trust to grow
+      a wiser and a better man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is well, Lumley,&rdquo; returned the uncle, &ldquo;and I am very glad to see you
+      returned to your own country. Will you dine with me to-morrow? I am living
+      near Fulham. You had better bring your carpet-bag, and stay with me some
+      days; you will be heartily welcome, especially if you can shift without a
+      foreign servant. I have a great compassion for papists, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my dear uncle, do not fear; I am not rich enough to have a foreign
+      servant, and have not travelled over three-quarters of the globe without
+      learning that it is possible to dispense with a valet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As to being rich enough,&rdquo; observed Mr. Templeton, with a calculating air,
+      &ldquo;seven hundred and ninety-five pounds ten shillings a year will allow a
+      man to keep two servants, if he pleases; but I am glad to find you
+      economical at all events. We meet to-morrow, then, at six o&rsquo;clock.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Au revoir</i>&mdash;I mean, God bless you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tiresome old gentleman that,&rdquo; muttered Ferrers, &ldquo;and not so cordial as
+      formerly; perhaps his wife is <i>enceinte</i>, and he is going to do me
+      the injustice of having another heir. I must look to this; for without
+      riches, I had better go back and live <i>au cinquieme</i> at Paris.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With this conclusion, Lumley quickened his pace, and soon arrived at
+      Seamore Place. In a few moments more he was in the library well stored
+      with books, and decorated with marble busts and images from the studios of
+      Canova and Thorwaldsen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My master, sir, will be down immediately,&rdquo; said the servant who admitted
+      him; and Ferrers threw himself on a sofa, and contemplated the apartment
+      with an air half envious and half cynical.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the door opened, and &ldquo;My dear Ferrers!&rdquo; &ldquo;Well, <i>mon cher</i>,
+      how are you?&rdquo; were the salutations hastily exchanged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After the first sentences of inquiry, gratulation, and welcome, had
+      cleared the way for more general conversation,&mdash;&ldquo;Well, Maltravers,&rdquo;
+       said Ferrers, &ldquo;so here we are together again, and after a lapse of so many
+      years! both older, certainly; and you, I suppose, wiser. At all events,
+      people think you so; and that&rsquo;s all that&rsquo;s important in the question. Why,
+      man, you are looking as young as ever, only a little paler and thinner;
+      but look at me&mdash;I am not very <i>much</i> past thirty, and I am
+      almost an old man; bald at the temples, crows&rsquo; feet, too, eh! Idleness
+      ages one damnably.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pooh, Lumley, I never saw you look better. And are you really come to
+      settle in England?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, if I can afford it. But at my age, and after having seen so much,
+      the life of an idle, obscure <i>garcon</i> does not content me. I feel
+      that the world&rsquo;s opinion, which I used to despise, is growing necessary to
+      me. I want to be something. What can I be? Don&rsquo;t look alarmed, I won&rsquo;t
+      rival you. I dare say literary reputation is a fine thing, but I desire
+      some distinction more substantial and worldly. You know your own country;
+      give me a map of the roads to Power.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To Power! Oh, nothing but law, politics, and riches.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For law I am too old; politics, perhaps, might suit me; but riches, my
+      dear Ernest&mdash;ah, how I long for a good account with my banker!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, patience and hope. Are you are not a rich uncle&rsquo;s heir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; said Ferrers, very dolorously; &ldquo;the old gentleman has
+      married again, and may have a family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Married!&mdash;to whom?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A widow, I hear; I know nothing more, except that she has a child
+      already. So you see she has got into a cursed way of having children. And
+      perhaps, by the time I&rsquo;m forty, I shall see a whole covey of cherubs
+      flying away with the great Templeton property!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha, ha; your despair sharpens your wit, Lumley; but why not take a leaf
+      out of your uncle&rsquo;s book, and marry yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I will when I can find an heiress. If that is what you meant to say&mdash;it
+      is a more sensible suggestion than any I could have supposed to come from
+      a man who writes books, especially poetry: and your advice is not to be
+      despised. For rich I will be; and as the fathers (I don&rsquo;t mean of the
+      Church, but in Horace) told the rising generation, the first thing is to
+      resolve to be rich, it is only the second thing to consider how.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Meanwhile, Ferrers, you will be my guest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll dine with you to-day; but to-morrow I am off to Fulham, to be
+      introduced to my aunt. Can&rsquo;t you fancy her?&mdash;grey <i>gros-de-Naples</i>
+      gown: gold chain with an eyeglass; rather fat; two pugs, and a parrot!
+      &lsquo;Start not, this is fancy&rsquo;s sketch!&rsquo; I have not yet seen the respectable
+      relative with my physical optics. What shall we have for dinner? Let me
+      choose, you were always a bad caterer.&rdquo; As Ferrers thus rattled on,
+      Maltravers felt himself growing younger: old times and old adventures
+      crowded fast upon him; and the two friends spent a most agreeable day
+      together. It was only the next morning that Maltravers, in thinking over
+      the various conversations that had passed between them, was forced
+      reluctantly to acknowledge that the inert selfishness of Lumley Ferrers
+      seemed now to have hardened into a resolute and systematic want of
+      principle, which might, perhaps, make him a dangerous and designing man,
+      if urged by circumstances into action.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0050" id="link2HCH0050">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;<i>Dauph.</i> Sir, I must speak to you. I have been long your
+  despised kinsman.
+
+ &ldquo;<i>Morose.</i> Oh, what thou wilt, nephew.&rdquo;&mdash;EPICENE.
+
+ &ldquo;Her silence is dowry eno&rsquo;&mdash;exceedingly soft spoken; thrifty
+  of her speech, that spends but six words a day.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Ibid.</i>
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      THE coach dropped Mr. Ferrers at the gate of a villa about three miles
+      from town. The lodge-keeper charged himself with the carpet-bag, and
+      Ferrers strolled, with his hands behind him (it was his favourite mode of
+      disposing of them), through the beautiful and elaborate pleasure-grounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A very nice, snug little box (jointure-house, I suppose)! I would not
+      grudge that, I&rsquo;m sure, if I had but the rest. But here, I suspect, comes
+      madam&rsquo;s first specimen of the art of having a family.&rdquo; This last thought
+      was extracted from Mr. Ferrers&rsquo;s contemplative brain by a lovely little
+      girl, who came running up to him, fearless and spoilt as she was; and,
+      after indulging a tolerable stare, exclaimed, &ldquo;Are you come to see papa,
+      sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Papa!&mdash;the deuce!&rdquo;&mdash;thought Lumley; &ldquo;and who is papa, my dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, mamma&rsquo;s husband. He is not my papa by rights.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly not, my love; not by rights&mdash;I comprehend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I am going to see your papa by wrongs&mdash;Mr. Templeton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, this way, then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very fond of Mr. Templeton, my little angel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To be sure I am. You have not seen the rocking-horse he is going to give
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not yet, sweet child! And how is mamma?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, poor, dear mamma,&rdquo; said the child, with a sudden change of voice, and
+      tears in her eyes. &ldquo;Ah, she is not well!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the family way, to a dead certainty!&rdquo; muttered Ferrers with a groan:
+      &ldquo;but here is my uncle. Horrid name! Uncles were always wicked fellows.
+      Richard the Third and the man who did something or other to the babes in
+      the wood were a joke to my hard-hearted old relation, who has robbed me
+      with a widow! The lustful, liquorish old&mdash;My <i>dear</i> sir, I&rsquo;m so
+      glad to see you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Templeton, who was a man very cold in his manners, and always either
+      looked over people&rsquo;s heads or down upon the ground, just touched his
+      nephew&rsquo;s outstretched hand, and telling him he was welcome, observed that
+      it was a very fine afternoon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very, indeed; sweet place this; you see, by the way, that I have already
+      made acquaintance with my fair cousin-in-law. She is very pretty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really think she is,&rdquo; said Mr. Templeton, with some warmth, and gazing
+      fondly at the child, who was now throwing buttercups up in the air, and
+      trying to catch them. Mr. Ferrers wished in his heart that they had been
+      brickbats!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is she like her mother?&rdquo; asked the nephew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Like whom, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her mother&mdash;Mrs. Templeton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not very; there is an air, perhaps, but the likeness is not
+      remarkably strong. Would you not like to go to your room before dinner?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you. Can I not first be presented to Mrs. Tem&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is at her devotions, Mr. Lumley,&rdquo; interrupted Mr. Templeton, grimly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The she-hypocrite!&rdquo; thought Ferrers. &ldquo;Oh, I am delighted that your pious
+      heart has found so congenial a helpmate!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a great blessing, and I am grateful for it. This is the way to the
+      house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lumley, now formally installed in a grave bedroom, with dimity curtains
+      and dark-brown paper with light-brown stars on it, threw himself into a
+      large chair, and yawned and stretched with as much fervour as if he could
+      have yawned and stretched himself into his uncle&rsquo;s property. He then
+      slowly exchanged his morning dress for a quiet suit of black, and thanked
+      his stars that, amidst all his sins, he had never been a dandy, and had
+      never rejoiced in a fine waistcoat&mdash;a criminal possession that he
+      well knew would have entirely hardened his uncle&rsquo;s conscience against him.
+      He tarried in his room till the second bell summoned him to descend; and
+      then, entering the drawing-room, which had a cold look even in July, found
+      his uncle standing by the mantelpiece, and a young, slight, handsome
+      woman, half-buried in a huge but not comfortable <i>fauteuil</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your aunt, Mrs. Templeton; madam, my nephew, Mr. Lumley Ferrers,&rdquo; said
+      Templeton, with a wave of the hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;John,&mdash;dinner!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope I am not late!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Templeton, gently, for he had always liked his nephew, and
+      began now to thaw towards him a little on seeing that Lumley put a good
+      face upon the new state of affairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, my dear boy&mdash;no; but I think order and punctuality cardinal
+      virtues in a well-regulated family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dinner, sir,&rdquo; said the butler, opening the folding-doors at the end of
+      the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Permit me,&rdquo; said Lumley, offering his arm to his aunt. &ldquo;What a lovely
+      place this is!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Templeton said something in reply, but what it was Ferrers could not
+      discover, so low and choked was the voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shy,&rdquo; thought he: &ldquo;odd for a widow! but that&rsquo;s the way those
+      husband-buriers take us in!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Plain as was the general furniture of the apartment, the natural
+      ostentation of Mr. Templeton broke out in the massive value of the plate,
+      and the number of the attendants. He was a rich man, and he was proud of
+      his riches: he knew it was respectable to be rich, and he thought it was
+      moral to be respectable. As for the dinner, Lumley knew enough of his
+      uncle&rsquo;s tastes to be prepared for viands and wines that even he
+      (fastidious gourmand as he was) did not despise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Between the intervals of eating, Mr. Ferrers endeavoured to draw his aunt
+      into conversation, but he found all his ingenuity fail him. There was, in
+      the features of Mrs. Templeton, an expression of deep but calm melancholy,
+      that would have saddened most persons to look upon, especially in one so
+      young and lovely. It was evidently something beyond shyness or reserve
+      that made her so silent and subdued, and even in her silence there was so
+      much natural sweetness, that Ferrers could not ascribe her manner to
+      haughtiness or the desire to repel. He was rather puzzled; &ldquo;for though,&rdquo;
+       thought he, sensibly enough, &ldquo;my uncle is not a youth, he is a very rich
+      fellow; and how any widow, who is married again to a rich old fellow, can
+      be melancholy, passes my understanding!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Templeton, as if to draw attention from his wife&rsquo;s taciturnity, talked
+      more than usual. He entered largely into politics, and regretted that in
+      times so critical he was not in parliament.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did I possess your youth and your health, Lumley, I would not neglect my
+      country&mdash;Popery is abroad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I myself should like very much to be in parliament,&rdquo; said Lumley, boldly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare say you would,&rdquo; returned the uncle, drily. &ldquo;Parliament is very
+      expensive&mdash;only fit for those who have a large stake in the country.
+      Champagne to Mr. Ferrers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lumley bit his lip, and spoke little during the rest of the dinner. Mr.
+      Templeton, however, waxed gracious by the time the dessert was on the
+      table; and began cutting up a pineapple, with many assurances to Lumley
+      that gardens were nothing without pineries. &ldquo;Whenever you settle in the
+      country, nephew, be sure you have a pinery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; said Lumley, almost bitterly, &ldquo;and a pack of hounds, and a
+      French cook; they will all suit my fortune very well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are more thoughtful on pecuniary matters than you used to be,&rdquo; said
+      the uncle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; replied Ferrers, solemnly, &ldquo;in a very short time I shall be what is
+      called a middle-aged man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; said the host.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was another silence. Lumley was a man, as we have said, or implied
+      before, of great knowledge of human nature, at least the ordinary sort of
+      it, and he now revolved in his mind the various courses it might be wise
+      to pursue towards his rich relation. He saw that, in delicate fencing, his
+      uncle had over him the same advantage that a tall man has over a short one
+      with the physical sword-play;&mdash;by holding his weapon in a proper
+      position, he kept the other at arm&rsquo;s length. There was a grand reserve and
+      dignity about the man who had something to give away, of which Ferrers,
+      however actively he might shift his ground and flourish his rapier, could
+      not break the defence. He determined, therefore, upon a new game, for
+      which his frankness of manner admirably adapted him. Just as he formed
+      this resolution, Mrs. Templeton rose, and with a gentle bow, and soft
+      though languid smile, glided from the room. The two gentlemen resettled
+      themselves, and Templeton pushed the bottle to Ferrers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Help yourself, Lumley! your travels seem to have deprived you of your
+      high spirits&mdash;you are pensive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; said Ferrers, abruptly, &ldquo;I wish to consult you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, young man! you have been guilty of some excess&mdash;you have gambled&mdash;you
+      have&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have done nothing, sir, that should make me less worthy your esteem. I
+      repeat, I wish to consult you; I have outlived the hot days of my youth&mdash;I
+      am now alive to the claims of the world. I have talents, I believe; and I
+      have application, I know. I wish to fill a position in the world that may
+      redeem my past indolence, and do credit to my family. Sir, I set your
+      example before me, and I now ask your counsel, with the determination to
+      follow it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Templeton was startled; he half shaded his face with his hand, and gazed
+      searchingly upon the high forehead and bold eyes of his nephew. &ldquo;I believe
+      you are sincere,&rdquo; said he, after a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may well believe so, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I will think of this. I like an honourable ambition&mdash;not too
+      extravagant a one,&mdash;<i>that</i> is sinful; but a <i>respectable</i>
+      station in the world is a proper object of desire, and wealth is a
+      blessing; because,&rdquo; added the rich man, taking another slice of the
+      pineapple,&mdash;&ldquo;it enables us to be of use to our fellow-creatures!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir, then,&rdquo; said Ferrers, with daring animation&mdash;&ldquo;then I avow that
+      my ambition is precisely of the kind you speak of. I am obscure, I desire
+      to be reputably known; my fortune is mediocre, I desire it to be great. I
+      ask you for nothing&mdash;I know your generous heart; but I wish
+      independently to work out my own career.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lumley,&rdquo; said Templeton, &ldquo;I never esteemed you so much as I do now.
+      Listen to me&mdash;I will confide in you; I think the government are under
+      obligations to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know it,&rdquo; exclaimed Ferrers, whose eyes sparkled at the thought of a
+      sinecure&mdash;for sinecures then existed!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And,&rdquo; pursued the uncle, &ldquo;I intend to ask them a favour in return.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, sir!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I think&mdash;mark me&mdash;with management and address, I may&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, my dear sir!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Obtain a barony for myself and heirs; I trust I shall soon have a
+      family!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Had somebody given Lumley Ferrers a hearty cuff on the ear, he would have
+      thought less of it than of this wind-up of his uncle&rsquo;s ambitious projects.
+      His jaws fell, his eyes grew an inch larger, and he remained perfectly
+      speechless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay,&rdquo; pursued Mr. Templeton, &ldquo;I have long dreamed this; my character is
+      spotless, my fortune great. I have ever exerted my parliamentary influence
+      in favour of ministers; and, in this commercial country, no man has higher
+      claims than Richard Templeton to the honours of a virtuous, loyal, and
+      religious state. Yes, my boy,&mdash;I like your ambition&mdash;you see I
+      have some of it myself; and since you are sincere in your wish to tread in
+      my footsteps, I think I can obtain you a junior partnership in a highly
+      respectable establishment. Let me see; your capital now is&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me, sir,&rdquo; interrupted Lumley, colouring with indignation despite
+      himself; &ldquo;I honour commerce much, but my paternal relations are not such
+      as would allow me to enter into trade. And permit me to add,&rdquo; continued
+      he, seizing with instant adroitness the new weakness presented to him&mdash;&ldquo;permit
+      me to add, that those relations, who have been ever kind to me, would,
+      properly managed, be highly efficient in promoting your own views of
+      advancement; for your sake I would not break with them. Lord Saxingham is
+      still a minister&mdash;nay, he is in the cabinet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hem&mdash;Lumley&mdash;hem!&rdquo; said Templeton, thoughtfully; &ldquo;we will
+      consider&mdash;we will consider. Any more wine?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I thank you, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I&rsquo;ll just take my evening stroll, and think over matters. You can
+      rejoin Mrs. Templeton. And I say, Lumley,&mdash;I read prayers at nine
+      o&rsquo;clock. Never forget your Maker, and He will not forget you. The barony
+      will be an excellent thing&mdash;eh?&mdash;an English peerage&mdash;yes&mdash;an
+      English peerage! very different from your beggarly countships abroad!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So saying, Mr. Templeton rang for his hat and cane, and stepped into the
+      lawn from the window of the dining-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;The world&rsquo;s mine oyster, which I with sword will open,&rsquo;&rdquo; muttered
+      Ferrers; &ldquo;I would mould this selfish old man to my purpose; for, since I
+      have neither genius to write nor eloquence to declaim, I will at least see
+      whether I have not cunning to plot and courage to act. Conduct&mdash;conduct&mdash;conduct&mdash;there
+      lies my talent; and what is conduct but a steady walk from a design to its
+      execution?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With these thoughts Ferrers sought Mrs. Templeton. He opened the
+      folding-doors very gently, for all his habitual movements were quick and
+      noiseless, and perceived that Mrs. Templeton sat by the window, and that
+      she seemed engrossed with a book which lay open on a little work-table
+      before her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fordyce&rsquo;s <i>Advice to Young Married Women</i>, I suppose. Sly jade!
+      However, I must not have her against me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He approached; still Mrs. Templeton did not note him; nor was it till he
+      stood facing her that he himself observed that her tears were falling fast
+      over the page.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was a little embarrassed, and, turning towards the window, affected to
+      cough, and then said, without looking at Mrs. Templeton, &ldquo;I fear I have
+      disturbed you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; answered the same low, stifled voice that had before replied to
+      Lumley&rsquo;s vain attempts to provoke conversation; &ldquo;it was a melancholy
+      employment, and perhaps it is not right to indulge in it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I inquire what author so affected you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is but a volume of poems, and I am no judge of poetry; but it contains
+      thoughts which&mdash;which&mdash;&rdquo; Mrs. Templeton paused abruptly, and
+      Lumley quietly took up the book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said he, turning to the title-page&mdash;&ldquo;my friend ought to be much
+      flattered.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your friend?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes: this, I see, is by Ernest Maltravers, a very intimate ally of mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to see him,&rdquo; cried Mrs. Templeton, almost with animation.
+      &ldquo;I read but little; it was by chance that I met with one of his books, and
+      they are as if I heard a dear friend speaking to me. Ah! I should like to
+      see him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure, madam,&rdquo; said the voice of a third person, in an austere and
+      rebuking accent, &ldquo;I do not see what good it would do your immortal soul to
+      see a man who writes idle verses, which appear to me, indeed, highly
+      immoral. I just looked into that volume this morning and found nothing but
+      trash&mdash;love-sonnets, and such stuff.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Templeton made no reply, and Lumley, in order to change the
+      conversation, which seemed a little too matrimonial for his taste, said,
+      rather awkwardly, &ldquo;You are returned very soon, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I don&rsquo;t like walking in the rain!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bless me, it rains, so, it does&mdash;I had not observed&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you wet, sir? had you not better&mdash;&rdquo; began the wife timidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, ma&rsquo;am, I&rsquo;m not wet, I thank you. By the by, nephew, this new author
+      is a friend of yours. I wonder a man of his family should condescend to
+      turn author. He can come to no good. I hope you will drop his acquaintance&mdash;authors
+      are very unprofitable associates, I&rsquo;m sure. I trust I shall see no more of
+      Mr. Maltravers&rsquo;s books in my house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nevertheless, he is well thought of, sir, and makes no mean figure in the
+      world,&rdquo; said Lumley, stoutly; for he was by no means disposed to give up a
+      friend who might be as useful to him as Mr. Templeton himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Figure or no figure&mdash;I have not had many dealings with authors in my
+      day; and when I had I always repented it. Not sound, sir, not sound&mdash;all
+      cracked somewhere. Mrs. Templeton, have the kindness to get the
+      Prayer-book&mdash;my hassock must be fresh stuffed, it gives me quite a
+      pain in my knee. Lumley, will you ring the bell? Your aunt is very
+      melancholy. True religion is not gloomy; we will read a sermon on
+      Cheerfulness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So, so,&rdquo; said Mr. Ferrers to himself, as he undressed that night&mdash;&ldquo;I
+      see that my uncle is a little displeased with my aunt&rsquo;s pensive face&mdash;a
+      little jealous of her thinking of anything but himself: <i>tant mieux</i>.
+      I must work upon this discovery; it will not do for them to live too
+      happily with each other. And what with that lever, and what with his
+      ambitious projects, I think I see a way to push the good things of this
+      world a few inches nearer to Lumley Ferrers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0051" id="link2HCH0051">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;The pride too of her step, as light
+  Along the unconscious earth she went,
+  Seemed that of one born with a right
+  To walk some heavenlier element.&rdquo;
+         <i>Loves of the Angels.</i>
+
+     &ldquo;Can it be
+  That these fine impulses, these lofty thoughts
+  Burning with their own beauty, are but given
+  To make me the low slave of vanity?&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Erinna.</i>
+
+     &ldquo;Is she not too fair
+  Even to think of maiden&rsquo;s sweetest care?
+  The mouth and brow are contrasts.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Ibid.</i>
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      IT was two or three evenings after the date of the last chapter, and there
+      was what the newspapers call &ldquo;a select party&rdquo; in one of the noblest
+      mansions in London. A young lady, on whom all eyes were bent, and whose
+      beauty might have served the painter for a model of Semiramis or Zenobia,
+      more majestic than became her years, and so classically faultless as to
+      have something cold and statue-like in its haughty lineaments, was moving
+      through the crowd that murmured applauses as she passed. This lady was
+      Florence Lascelles, the daughter of Lumley&rsquo;s great relation, the Earl of
+      Saxingham, and supposed to be the richest heiress in England. Lord
+      Saxingham himself drew aside his daughter as she swept along.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Florence,&rdquo; said he in a whisper, &ldquo;the Duke of &mdash;&mdash;&mdash; is
+      greatly struck with you&mdash;be civil to him&mdash;I am about to present
+      him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+So saying, the earl turned to a small, dark, stiff-looking man, of about
+twenty-eight years of age, at his left, and introduced the Duke of&mdash;&mdash;-
+ introduction between the greatest match and the wealthiest heiress in
+the peerage.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lady Florence,&rdquo; said Lord Saxingham, &ldquo;is as fond of horses as yourself,
+      duke, though not quite so good a judge.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I confess I <i>do</i> like horses,&rdquo; said the duke, with an ingenuous air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Saxingham moved away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Florence stood mute&mdash;one glance of bright contempt shot from her
+      large eyes; her lip slightly curled, and she then half turned aside, and
+      seemed to forget that her new acquaintance was in existence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His grace, like most great personages, was not apt to take offence; nor
+      could he, indeed, ever suppose that any slight towards the Duke of &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;
+      could be intended; still he thought it would be proper in Lady Florence to
+      begin the conversation; for he himself, though not shy, was habitually
+      silent, and accustomed to be saved the fatigue of defraying the small
+      charges of society. After a pause, seeing, however, that Lady Florence
+      remained speechless, he began:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You ride sometimes in the Park, Lady Florence?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very seldom.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is, indeed, too warm for riding at present.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not say so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hem&mdash;I thought you did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Another pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you speak, Lady Florence?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I beg pardon&mdash;Lord Saxingham is looking very well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad you think so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your picture in the exhibition scarcely does you justice, Lady Florence;
+      yet Lawrence is usually happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very flattering,&rdquo; said Lady Florence, with a lively and
+      perceptible impatience in her tone and manner. The young beauty was
+      thoroughly spoilt&mdash;and now all the scorn of a scornful nature was
+      drawn forth, by observing the envious eyes of the crowd were bent upon one
+      whom the Duke of &mdash;&mdash;&mdash; was actually talking to. Brilliant
+      as were her own powers of conversation, she would not deign to exert them&mdash;she
+      was an aristocrat of intellect rather than birth, and she took it into her
+      head that the duke was an idiot. She was very much mistaken. If she had
+      but broken up the ice, she would have found that the water below was not
+      shallow. The duke, in fact, like many other Englishmen, though he did not
+      like the trouble of showing forth, and had an ungainly manner, was a man
+      who had read a good deal, possessed a sound head and an honourable mind,
+      though he did not know what it was to love anybody, to care much for
+      anything, and was at once perfectly sated and yet perfectly contented; for
+      apathy is the combination of satiety and content.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Still Florence judged of him as lively persons are apt to judge of the
+      sedate; besides, she wanted to proclaim to him and to everybody else, how
+      little she cared for dukes and great matches; she, therefore, with a
+      slight inclination of her head, turned away, and extended her hand to a
+      dark young man, who was gazing on her with that respectful but
+      unmistakable admiration which proud women are never proud enough to
+      despise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, signor,&rdquo; said she, in Italian, &ldquo;I am so glad to see you; it is a
+      relief, indeed, to find genius in a crowd of nothings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So saying, the heiress seated herself on one of those convenient couches
+      which hold but two, and beckoned the Italian to her side. Oh, how the vain
+      heart of Castruccio Cesarini beat!&mdash;what visions of love, rank,
+      wealth, already flitted before him!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I almost fancy,&rdquo; said Castruccio, &ldquo;that the old days of romance are
+      returned, when a queen could turn from princes and warriors to listen to a
+      troubadour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Troubadours are now more rare than warriors and princes,&rdquo; replied
+      Florence, with gay animation, which contrasted strongly with the coldness
+      she had manifested to the Duke of &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;, &ldquo;and therefore it
+      would not now be a very great merit in a queen to fly from dulness and
+      insipidity to poetry and wit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, say not wit,&rdquo; said Cesarini; &ldquo;wit is incompatible with the grave
+      character of deep feelings;&mdash;incompatible with enthusiasm, with
+      worship;&mdash;incompatible with the thoughts that wait upon Lady Florence
+      Lascelles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence coloured and slightly frowned; but the immense distinction
+      between her position and that of the young foreigner, with her own
+      inexperience, both of real life and the presumption of vain hearts, made
+      her presently forget the flattery that would have offended her in another.
+      She turned the conversation, however, into general channels, and she
+      talked of Italian poetry with a warmth and eloquence worthy of the theme.
+      While they thus conversed, a new guest had arrived, who, from the spot
+      where he stood, engaged with Lord Saxingham, fixed a steady and
+      scrutinising gaze upon the pair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lady Florence has indeed improved,&rdquo; said this new guest. &ldquo;I could not
+      have conceived that England boasted any one half so beautiful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She certainly is handsome, my dear Lumley,&mdash;the Lascelles cast of
+      countenance,&rdquo; replied Lord Saxingham, &ldquo;and so gifted! She is positively
+      learned&mdash;quite a <i>bas bleu</i>. I tremble to think of the crowd of
+      poets and painters who will make a fortune out of her enthusiasm. <i>Entre
+      nous</i>, Lumley, I could wish her married to a man of sober sense, like
+      the Duke of &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;; for sober sense is exactly what she
+      wants. Do observe, she has been sitting just half an hour flirting with
+      that odd-looking adventurer, a Signor Cesarini, merely because he writes
+      sonnets and wears a dress like a stage-player!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the weakness of the sex, my dear lord,&rdquo; said Lumley; &ldquo;they like to
+      patronise, and they dote upon all oddities, from China monsters to cracked
+      poets. But I fancy, by a restless glance cast every now and then around
+      the room, that my beautiful cousin has in her something of the coquette.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There you are quite right, Lumley,&rdquo; returned Lord Saxingham, laughing;
+      &ldquo;but I will not quarrel with her for breaking hearts and refusing hands,
+      if she do but grow steady at last, and settle into the Duchess of&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Duchess of &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;!&rdquo; repeated Lumley, absently; &ldquo;well, I
+      will go and present myself. I see she is growing tired of the signor. I
+      will sound her as to the ducal impressions, my dear lord.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do&mdash;I dare not,&rdquo; replied the father; &ldquo;she is an excellent girl, but
+      heiresses are always contradictory. It was very foolish to deprive me of
+      all control over her fortune. Come and see me again soon, Lumley. I
+      suppose you are going abroad?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I shall settle in England; but of my prospects and plans more
+      hereafter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With this, Lumley quietly glided away to Florence. There was something in
+      Ferrers that was remarkable from its very simplicity. His clear, sharp
+      features, with the short hair and high brow&mdash;the absolute plainness
+      of his dress, and the noiseless, easy, self-collected calm of all his
+      motions, made a strong contrast to the showy Italian, by whose side he now
+      stood. Florence looked up at him with some little surprise at his
+      intrusion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, you don&rsquo;t recollect me!&rdquo; said Lumley, with his pleasant laugh.
+      &ldquo;Faithless Imogen, after all your vows of constancy! Behold your Alonzo!
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   &lsquo;The worms they crept in and the worms they crept out.&rsquo;
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you remember how you trembled when I told you that true story, as
+      we
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   &lsquo;Conversed as we sat on the green&rdquo;?
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; cried Florence, &ldquo;it is indeed you, my dear cousin&mdash;my dear
+      Lumley! What an age since we parted!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t talk of age&mdash;it is an ugly word to a man of my years. Pardon,
+      signor, if I disturb you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And here Lumley, with a low bow, slid coolly into the place which
+      Cesarini, who had shyly risen, left vacant for him. Castruccio looked
+      disconcerted; but Florence had forgotten him in her delight at seeing
+      Lumley, and Cesarini moved discontentedly away, and seated himself at a
+      distance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I come back,&rdquo; continued Lumley, &ldquo;to find you a confirmed beauty and a
+      professional coquette&mdash;don&rsquo;t blush!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do they, indeed, call me a coquette?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes,&mdash;for once the world is just.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps I do deserve the reproach. Oh, Lumley, how I despise all that I
+      see and hear!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, even the Duke of &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I fear even the Duke of &mdash;&mdash;&mdash; is no exception!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your father will go mad if he hear you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My father!&mdash;my poor father!&mdash;yes, he thinks the utmost that I,
+      Florence Lascelles, am made for, is to wear a ducal coronet, and give the
+      best balls in London.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And pray what was Florence Lascelles made for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! I cannot answer the question. I fear for Discontent and Disdain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are an enigma&mdash;but I will take pains and not rest till I solve
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I defy you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks&mdash;better defy than despise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you must be strangely altered, if I can despise you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed! what do you remember of me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That you were frank, bold, and therefore, I suppose, true!&mdash;that you
+      shocked my aunts and my father by your contempt for the vulgar hypocrisies
+      of our conventional life. Oh, no! I cannot despise you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lumley raised his eyes to those of Florence&mdash;he gazed on her long and
+      earnestly&mdash;ambitious hopes rose high within him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My fair cousin,&rdquo; said he, in an altered and serious tone, &ldquo;I see
+      something in your spirit kindred to mine; and I am glad that yours is one
+      of the earliest voices which confirm my new resolves on my return to busy
+      England!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And those resolves?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are an Englishman&rsquo;s&mdash;energetic and ambitious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas, ambition! How many false portraits are there of the great
+      original!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lumley thought he had found a clue to the heart of his cousin, and he
+      began to expatiate, with unusual eloquence, on the nobleness of that
+      daring sin which &ldquo;lost angels heaven.&rdquo; Florence listened to him with
+      attention, but not with sympathy. Lumley was deceived. His was not an
+      ambition that could attract the fastidious but high-souled Idealist. The
+      selfishness of his nature broke out in all the sentiments that he fancied
+      would seem to her most elevated. Place&mdash;power&mdash;titles&mdash;all
+      these objects were low and vulgar to one who saw them daily at her feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At a distance the Duke of &mdash;&mdash;&mdash; continued from time to
+      time to direct his cold gaze at Florence. He did not like her the less for
+      not seeming to court him. He had something generous within him, and could
+      understand her. He went away at last, and thought seriously of Florence as
+      a wife. Not a wife for companionship, for friendship, for love; but a wife
+      who could take the trouble of rank off his hands&mdash;do him honour, and
+      raise him an heir, whom he might flatter himself would be his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From his corner also, with dreams yet more vain and daring, Castruccio
+      Cesarini cast his eyes upon the queen-like brow of the great heiress. Oh,
+      yes, she had a soul&mdash;she could disdain rank and revere genius! What a
+      triumph over De Montaigne&mdash;Maltravers&mdash;all the world, if he, the
+      neglected poet, could win the hand for which the magnates of the earth
+      sighed in vain! Pure and lofty as he thought himself, it was her birth and
+      her wealth which Cesarini adored in Florence. And Lumley, nearer perhaps
+      to the prize than either&mdash;yet still far off&mdash;went on conversing,
+      with eloquent lips and sparkling eyes, while his cold heart was planning
+      every word, dictating every glance, and laying out (for the most worldly
+      are often the most visionary) the chart for a royal road to fortune. And
+      Florence Lascelles, when the crowd had dispersed and she sought her
+      chamber, forgot all three; and with that morbid romance often peculiar to
+      those for whom Fate smiles the most, mused over the ideal image of the one
+      she <i>could</i> love&mdash;&ldquo;in maiden meditation <i>not</i> fancy-free!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0052" id="link2HCH0052">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;In mea vesanas habui dispendia vires,
+  Et valui poenas fortis in ipse meas.&rdquo; *&mdash;OVID.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      * I had the strength of a madman to my own cost, and employed that
+      strength in my own punishment.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Then might my breast be read within,
+  A thousand volumes would be written there.&rdquo;
+         EARL OF STIRLING.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      ERNEST MALTRAVERS was at the height of his reputation; the work which he
+      had deemed the crisis that was to make or mar him was the most brilliantly
+      successful of all he had yet committed to the public. Certainly, chance
+      did as much for it as merit, as is usually the case with works that become
+      instantaneously popular. We may hammer away at the casket with strong arm
+      and good purpose, and all in vain; when some morning a careless stroke
+      hits the right nail on the head, and we secure the treasure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was at this time, when in the prime of youth&mdash;rich, courted,
+      respected, run after&mdash;that Ernest Maltravers fell seriously ill. It
+      was no active or visible disease, but a general irritability of the
+      nerves, and a languid sinking of the whole frame. His labours began,
+      perhaps, to tell against him. In earlier life he had been as active as a
+      hunter of the chamois, and the hardy exercise of his frame counteracted
+      the effects of a restless and ardent mind. The change from an athletic to
+      a sedentary habit of life&mdash;the wear and tear of the brain&mdash;the
+      absorbing passion for knowledge which day and night kept all his faculties
+      in a stretch; made strange havoc in a constitution naturally strong. The
+      poor author! how few persons understand; and forbear with, and pity him!
+      He sells his health and youth to a rugged taskmaster. And, O blind and
+      selfish world, you expect him to be as free of manner, and as pleasant of
+      cheer, and as equal of mood, as if he were passing the most agreeable and
+      healthful existence that pleasure could afford to smooth the wrinkles of
+      the mind, or medicine invent to regulate the nerves of the body. But there
+      was, besides all this, another cause that operated against the successful
+      man!&mdash;His heart was too solitary. He lived without the sweet
+      household ties&mdash;the connections and amities he formed excited for a
+      moment, but possessed no charm to comfort or to soothe. Cleveland resided
+      so much in the country, and was of so much calmer a temperament, and so
+      much more advanced in age, that, with all the friendship that subsisted
+      between them, there was none of that daily and familiar interchange of
+      confidence which affectionate natures demand as the very food of life. Of
+      his brother (as the reader will conjecture from never having been formally
+      presented to him) Ernest saw but little. Colonel Maltravers, one of the
+      gayest and handsomest men of his time, married a fine lady, lived
+      principally at Paris, except when, for a few weeks in the shooting season,
+      he filled his country house with companions who had nothing in common with
+      Ernest: the brothers corresponded regularly every quarter, and saw each
+      other once a year&mdash;this was all their intercourse. Ernest Maltravers
+      stood in the world alone, with that cold but anxious spectre&mdash;Reputation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was late at night. Before a table covered with the monuments of
+      erudition and thought sat a young man with a pale and worn countenance.
+      The clock in the room told with a fretting distinctness every moment that
+      lessened the journey to the grave. There was an anxious and expectant
+      expression on the face of the student, and from time to time he glanced to
+      the clock, and muttered to himself. Was it a letter from some adored
+      mistress&mdash;the soothing flattery from some mighty arbiter of arts and
+      letters&mdash;that the young man eagerly awaited? No; the aspirer was
+      forgotten in the valetudinarian. Ernest Maltravers was waiting the visit
+      of his physician, whom at that late hour a sudden thought had induced him
+      to summon from his rest. At length the well-known knock was heard, and in
+      a few moments the physician entered. He was one well versed in the
+      peculiar pathology of book men, and kindly as well as skilful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Mr. Maltravers, what is this? How are we?&mdash;not seriously
+      ill, I hope&mdash;no relapse&mdash;pulse low and irregular, I see, but no
+      fever. You are nervous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Doctor,&rdquo; said the student, &ldquo;I did not send for you at this time of night
+      from the idle fear or fretful caprice of an invalid. But when I saw you
+      this morning, you dropped some hints which have haunted me ever since.
+      Much that it befits the conscience and the soul to attend to without loss
+      of time depends upon my full knowledge of my real state. If I understand
+      you rightly, I may have but a short time to live&mdash;is it so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; said the doctor, turning away his face; &ldquo;you have exaggerated my
+      meaning. I did not say that you were in what we technically call danger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Am I then likely to be a <i>long</i>-lived man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor coughed&mdash;&ldquo;That is uncertain, my dear young friend,&rdquo; said
+      he, after a pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be plain with me. The plans of life must be based upon such calculations
+      as we can reasonably form of its probable duration. Do not fancy that I am
+      weak enough or coward enough to shrink from any abyss which I have
+      approached unconsciously; I desire&mdash;I adjure&mdash;nay, I command you
+      to be explicit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was an earnest and solemn dignity in his patient&rsquo;s voice and manner
+      which deeply touched and impressed the good physician.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will answer you frankly,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;you overwork the nerves and the
+      brain; if you do not relax, you will subject yourself to confirmed disease
+      and premature death. For several months&mdash;perhaps for years to come&mdash;you
+      should wholly cease from literary labour. Is this a hard sentence? You are
+      rich and young&mdash;enjoy yourself while you can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers appeared satisfied&mdash;changed the conversation&mdash;talked
+      easily on other matters for a few minutes: nor was it till he had
+      dismissed his physician that he broke forth with the thoughts that were
+      burning in him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; cried he aloud, as he rose and paced the room with rapid strides;
+      &ldquo;now, when I see before me the broad and luminous path, am I to be
+      condemned to halt and turn aside? A vast empire rises on my view, greater
+      than that of Caesars and conquerors&mdash;an empire durable and universal
+      in the souls of men, that time itself cannot overthrow; and Death marches
+      with me, side by side, and the skeleton hand waves me back to the
+      nothingness of common men.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused at the casement&mdash;he threw it open, and leant forth and
+      gasped for air. Heaven was serene and still, as morning came coldly forth
+      amongst the waning stars; and the haunts of men, in their thoroughfare of
+      idleness and of pleasure, were desolate and void. Nothing, save Nature,
+      was awake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if, O stars!&rdquo; murmured Maltravers, from the depth of his excited
+      heart&mdash;&ldquo;if I have been insensible to your solemn beauty&mdash;if the
+      Heaven and the Earth had been to me but as air and clay&mdash;if I were
+      one of a dull and dim-eyed herd&mdash;I might live on, and drop into the
+      grave from the ripeness of unprofitable years. It is because I yearn for
+      the great objects of an immortal being, that life shrinks and shrivels up
+      like a scroll. Away! I will not listen to these human and material
+      monitors, and consider life as a thing greater than the things that I
+      would live for. My choice is made, glory is more persuasive than the
+      grave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned impatiently from the casement&mdash;his eyes flashed&mdash;his
+      chest heaved&mdash;he trod the chamber with a monarch&rsquo;s air. All the
+      calculations of prudence, all the tame and methodical reasonings with
+      which, from time to time, he had sought to sober down the impetuous man
+      into the calm machine, faded away before the burst of awful and commanding
+      passions that swept over his soul. Tell a man, in the full tide of his
+      triumphs, that he bears death within him; and what crisis of thought can
+      be more startling and more terrible!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers had, as we have seen, cared little for fame, till fame had been
+      brought within his reach: then, with every step he took, new Alps had
+      arisen. Each new conjecture brought to light a new truth that demanded
+      enforcement or defence. Rivalry and competition chafed his blood, and kept
+      his faculties at their full speed. He had the generous race-horse spirit
+      of emulation. Ever in action, ever in progress, cheered on by the sarcasms
+      of foes, even more than by the applause of friends, the desire of glory
+      had become the habit of existence. When we have commenced a career, what
+      stop is there till the grave?&mdash;where is the definite barrier of that
+      ambition which, like the eastern bird, seems ever on the wing, and never
+      rests upon the earth? Our names are not settled till our death: the ghosts
+      of what we have done are made our haunting monitors&mdash;our scourging
+      avengers&mdash;if ever we cease to do, or fall short of the younger past.
+      Repose is oblivion; to pause is to unravel all the web that we have woven&mdash;until
+      the tomb closes over us, and men, just when it is too late, strike the
+      fair balance between ourselves and our rivals; and we are measured, not by
+      the least, but by the greatest triumphs we have achieved. Oh, what a
+      crushing sense of impotence comes over us, when we feel that our frame
+      cannot support our mind&mdash;when the hand can no longer execute what the
+      soul, actively as ever, conceives and desires!&mdash;the quick life tied
+      to the dead form&mdash;the ideas fresh as immortality, gushing forth rich
+      and golden, and the broken nerves, and the aching frame, and the weary
+      eyes!&mdash;the spirit athirst for liberty and heaven&mdash;and the
+      damning, choking consciousness that we are walled up and prisoned in a
+      dungeon that must be our burial-place! Talk not of freedom&mdash;there is
+      no such thing as freedom to a man whose body is the gaol, whose
+      infirmities are the racks, of his genius!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers paused at last, and threw himself on his sofa, wearied and
+      exhausted. Involuntarily, and as a half unconscious means of escaping from
+      his conflicting and profitless emotions, he turned to several letters,
+      which had for hours lain unopened on his table. Every one, the seal of
+      which he broke, seemed to mock his state&mdash;every one seemed to attest
+      the felicity of his fortunes. Some bespoke the admiring sympathy of the
+      highest and wisest&mdash;one offered him a brilliant opening into public
+      life&mdash;another (it was from Cleveland) was fraught with all the proud
+      and rapturous approbation of a prophet whose auguries are at last
+      fulfilled. At that letter Maltravers sighed deeply, and paused before he
+      turned to the others. The last he opened was in an unknown hand, nor was
+      any name affixed to it. Like all writers of some note, Maltravers was in
+      the habit of receiving anonymous letters of praise, censure, warning, and
+      exhortation&mdash;especially from young ladies at boarding schools, and
+      old ladies in the country; but there was that in the first sentences of
+      the letter, which he now opened with a careless hand, that riveted his
+      attention. It was a small and beautiful handwriting, yet the letters were
+      more clear and bold than they usually are in feminine caligraphy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ernest Maltravers,&rdquo; began this singular effusion, &ldquo;have you weighed
+      yourself? Are you aware of your capacities? Do you feel that for you there
+      may be a more dazzling reputation that that which appears to content you?
+      You who seem to penetrate into the subtlest windings of the human heart,
+      and to have examined nature as through a glass&mdash;you, whose thoughts
+      stand forth like armies marshalled in defence of truth, bold and
+      dauntless, and without a stain upon their glittering armour;&mdash;are
+      you, at your age, and with your advantages, to bury yourself amidst books
+      and scrolls? Do you forget that action is the grand career for men who
+      think as you do? Will this word-weighing and picture-writing&mdash;the
+      cold eulogies of pedants&mdash;the listless praises of literary idlers,
+      content all the yearnings of your ambition? You were not made solely for
+      the closet; &lsquo;The Dreams of Pindus, and the Aonian Maids&rsquo; cannot endure
+      through the noon of manhood. You are too practical for the mere poet, and
+      too poetical to sink into the dull tenor of a learned life. I have never
+      seen you, yet I know you&mdash;I read your spirit in your page; that
+      aspiration for something better and greater than the great and the good,
+      which colours all your passionate revelations of yourself and others&mdash;cannot
+      be satisfied merely by ideal images. You cannot be contented, as poets and
+      historians mostly are, by becoming great only from delineating great men,
+      or imagining great events, or describing a great era. Is it not worthier
+      of you to be what you fancy or relate? Awake, Maltravers, awake! Look into
+      your heart, and feel your proper destinies. And who am I that thus address
+      you?&mdash;a woman whose soul is filled with you&mdash;a woman in whom
+      your eloquence has awakened, amidst frivolous and vain circles, the sense
+      of a new existence&mdash;a woman who would make you, yourself, the
+      embodied ideal of your own thoughts and dreams, and who would ask from
+      earth no other lot than that of following you on the road of fame with the
+      eyes of her heart. Mistake me not; I repeat that I have never seen you,
+      nor do I wish it; you might be other than I imagine, and I should lose an
+      idol, and be left without a worship. I am a kind of visionary Rosicrucian:
+      it is a spirit that I adore, and not a being like myself. You imagine,
+      perhaps, that I have some purpose to serve in this&mdash;I have no object
+      in administering to your vanity; and if I judge you rightly, this letter
+      is one that might make you vain without a blush. Oh, the admiration that
+      does not spring from holy and profound sources of emotion&mdash;how it
+      saddens us or disgusts! I have had my share of vulgar homage, and it only
+      makes me feel doubly alone. I am richer than you are&mdash;I have youth&mdash;I
+      have what they call beauty. And neither riches, youth, nor beauty ever
+      gave me the silent and deep happiness I experience when I think of you.
+      This is a worship that might, I repeat, well make even you vain. Think of
+      these words, I implore you. Be worthy, not of my thoughts, but of the
+      shape in which they represent you: and every ray of glory that surrounds
+      you will brighten my own way, and inspire me with a kindred emulation.
+      Farewell.&mdash;I may write to you again, but you will never discover me;
+      and in life I pray that we may never meet!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0053" id="link2HCH0053">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Our list of nobles next let Amri grace.&rdquo;
+         <i>Absalom and Achitophel</i>.
+
+ &ldquo;Sine me vacivum tempus ne quod dem mihi Laboris.&rdquo; *&mdash;TER.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      * Suffer me to employ my spare time in some kind of labour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I CAN&rsquo;T think,&rdquo; said one of a group of young men, loitering by the steps
+      of a clubhouse in St. James&rsquo;s Street&mdash;&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t think what has chanced
+      to Maltravers. Do you observe (as he walks&mdash;there&mdash;the other
+      side of the way) how much he is altered? He stoops like an old man, and
+      hardly ever lifts his eyes from the ground. He certainly seems sick and
+      sad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Writing books, I suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Or privately married.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Or growing too rich&mdash;rich men are always unhappy beings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha, Ferrers, how are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So-so. What&rsquo;s the news?&rdquo; replied Lumley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rattler pays forfeit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O! but in politics?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hang politics&mdash;are you turned politician?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At my age, what else is there left to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought so, by your hat; all politicians sport odd-looking hats: it is
+      very remarkable, but that is the great symptom of the disease.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My hat!&mdash;<i>is</i> it odd?&rdquo; said Ferrers, taking off the commodity
+      in question, and seriously regarding it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, who ever saw such a brim?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Glad you think so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Ferrers?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because it is a prudent policy in this country to surrender something
+      trifling up to ridicule. If people can abuse your hat or your carriage, or
+      the shape of your nose, or a wart on your chin, they let slip a thousand
+      more important matters. &lsquo;Tis the wisdom of the camel-driver, who gives up
+      his gown for the camel to trample on, that he may escape himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How droll you are, Ferrers! Well, I shall turn in, and read the papers;
+      and you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall pay my visits and rejoice in my hat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good day to you; by the by, your friend, Maltravers, has just passed,
+      looking thoughtful, and talking to himself. What&rsquo;s the matter with him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lamenting, perhaps, that he, too, does not wear an odd hat for gentlemen
+      like you to laugh at, and leave the rest of him in peace. Good day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On went Ferrers, and soon found himself in the Mall of the Park. Here he
+      was joined by Mr. Templeton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Lumley,&rdquo; said the latter (and it may be here remarked that Mr.
+      Templeton now exhibited towards his nephew a greater respect of manner and
+      tone than he had thought it necessary to observe before)&mdash;&ldquo;well,
+      Lumley, and have you seen Lord Saxingham?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have, sir; and I regret to say&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought so&mdash;I thought it,&rdquo; interrupted Templeton: &ldquo;no gratitude in
+      public men&mdash;no wish, in high place, to honour virtue!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me; Lord Saxingham declares that he should be delighted to forward
+      your views&mdash;that no man more deserves a peerage; but that&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes; always <i>buts</i>!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But that there are so many claimants at present whom it is impossible to
+      satisfy; and&mdash;and&mdash;but I feel I ought not to go on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Proceed, sir, I beg.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, then, Lord Saxingham is (I must be frank) a man who has a great
+      regard for his own family. Your marriage (a source, my dear uncle, of the
+      greatest gratification to <i>me</i>) cuts off the probable chance of your
+      fortune and title, if you acquire the latter, descending to&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yourself!&rdquo; put in Templeton, drily. &ldquo;Your relation seems, for the first
+      time, to have discovered how dear your interests are to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For me, individually, sir, my relation does not care a rush&mdash;but he
+      cares a great deal for any member of his house being rich and in high
+      station. It increases the range and credit of his connections; and Lord
+      Saxingham is a man whom connections help to keep great. To be plain with
+      you, he will not stir in this business, because he does not see how his
+      kinsman is to be benefited, or his house strengthened.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Public virtue!&rdquo; exclaimed Templeton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Virtue, my dear uncle, is a female: as long as she is private property,
+      she is excellent; but public virtue, like any other public lady, is a
+      common prostitute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pshaw!&rdquo; grunted Templeton, who was too much out of humour to read his
+      nephew the lecture he might otherwise have done upon the impropriety of
+      his simile; for Mr. Templeton was one of those men who hold it vicious to
+      talk of vice as existing in the world; he was very much shocked to hear
+      anything called by its proper name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has not Mrs. Templeton some connections that may be useful to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir!&rdquo; cried the uncle, in a voice of thunder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sorry to hear it&mdash;but we cannot expect all things: you have married
+      for love&mdash;you have a happy home, a charming wife&mdash;this is better
+      than a title and a fine lady.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Lumley Ferrers, you may spare me your consolations. My wife&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Loves you dearly, I dare say,&rdquo; said the imperturbable nephew. &ldquo;She has so
+      much sentiment, is so fond of poetry. Oh, yes, she must love one who has
+      done so much for her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Done so much; what do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, with your fortune&mdash;your station&mdash;your just ambition&mdash;you,
+      who might have married any one; nay, by remaining unmarried, have
+      conciliated all my interested, selfish relations&mdash;hang them&mdash;you
+      have married a lady without connections&mdash;and what more could you do
+      for her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pooh, pooh; you don&rsquo;t know all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here Templeton stopped short, as if about to say too much, and frowned;
+      then, after a pause, he resumed, &ldquo;Lumley, I have married, it is true. You
+      may not be my heir, but I will make it up to you&mdash;that is, if you
+      deserve my affection.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear unc&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t interrupt me, I have projects for you. Let our interests be the
+      same. The title may yet descend to you. I may have no male offspring&mdash;meanwhile,
+      draw on me to any reasonable amount&mdash;young men have expenses&mdash;but
+      be prudent, and if you want to get on in the world, never let the world
+      detect you in a scrape. There, leave me now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My best, my heartfelt thanks!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush&mdash;sound Lord Saxingham again; I must and will have this bauble&mdash;I
+      have set my heart on it.&rdquo; So saying, Templeton waved away his nephew, and
+      musingly pursued his path towards Hyde Park Corner, where his carriage
+      awaited him. As soon as he entered his demesnes, he saw his wife&rsquo;s
+      daughter running across the lawn to greet him. His heart softened; he
+      checked the carriage and descended: he caressed her, he played with her,
+      he laughed as she laughed. No parent could be more fond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lumley Ferrers has talent to do me honour,&rdquo; said he, anxiously, &ldquo;but his
+      principles seem unstable. However, surely that open manner is the sign of
+      a good heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile, Ferrers, in high spirits, took his way to Ernest&rsquo;s house. His
+      friend was not at home, but Ferrers never wanted a host&rsquo;s presence in
+      order to be at home himself. Books were round him in abundance, but
+      Ferrers was not one of those who read for amusement. He threw himself into
+      an easy-chair, and began weaving new meshes of ambition and intrigue. At
+      length the door opened, and Maltravers entered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Ernest, how ill you are looking!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not been well, but I am now recovering. As physicians recommend
+      change of air to ordinary patients&mdash;so I am about to try change of
+      habit. Active I must be&mdash;action is the condition of my being; but I
+      must have done with books from the present. You see me in a new
+      character.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That of a public man&mdash;I have entered parliament.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You astonish me!&mdash;I have read the papers this morning. I see not
+      even a vacancy, much less an election.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is all managed by the lawyer and the banker. In other words, my seat
+      is a close borough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No bore of constituents. I congratulate you, and envy. I wish I were in
+      parliament myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You! I never fancied you bitten by the political mania.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Political!&mdash;no. But it is the most respectable way, with luck, of
+      living on the public. Better than swindling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A candid way of viewing the question. But I thought at one time you were
+      half a Benthamite, and that your motto was, &lsquo;The greatest happiness of the
+      greatest number.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The greatest number to me is number <i>one</i>. I agree with the
+      Pythagoreans&mdash;unity is the perfect principle of creation! Seriously,
+      how can you mistake the principles of opinion for the principles of
+      conduct? I am a Benthamite, a benevolist, as a logician&mdash;but the
+      moment I leave the closet for the world, I lay aside speculation for
+      others, and act for myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are, at least, more frank than prudent in these confessions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There you are wrong. It is by affecting to be worse than we are that we
+      become popular&mdash;and we get credit for being both honest and practical
+      fellows. My uncle&rsquo;s mistake is to be a hypocrite in words: it rarely
+      answers. Be frank in words, and nobody will suspect hypocrisy in your
+      designs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers gazed hard at Ferrers&mdash;something revolted and displeased
+      his high-wrought Platonism in the easy wisdom of his old friend. But he
+      felt, almost for the first time, that Ferrers was a man to get on in the
+      world&mdash;and he sighed; I hope it was for the world&rsquo;s sake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a short conversation on indifferent matters, Cleveland was
+      announced; and Ferrers, who could make nothing out of Cleveland, soon
+      withdrew. Ferrers was now becoming an economist in his time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Maltravers,&rdquo; said Cleveland, when they were alone, &ldquo;I am so glad
+      to see you; for, in the first place, I rejoice to find you are extending
+      your career of usefulness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Usefulness&mdash;ah, let me think so! Life is so uncertain and so short,
+      that we cannot too soon bring the little it can yield into the great
+      commonwealth of the Beautiful or the Honest; and both belong to and make
+      up the Useful. But in politics, and in a highly artificial state, what
+      doubts beset us! what darkness surrounds! If we connive at abuses, we
+      juggle with our own reason and integrity&mdash;if we attack them, how
+      much, how fatally we may derange that solemn and conventional ORDER which
+      is the mainspring of the vast machine! How little, too, can one man, whose
+      talents may not be in that coarse road&mdash;in that mephitic atmosphere,
+      be enabled to effect!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He may effect a vast deal even without eloquence or labour:&mdash;he may
+      effect a vast deal, if he can set one example, amidst a crowd of selfish
+      aspirants and heated fanatics, of an honest and dispassionate man. He may
+      effect more, if he may serve among the representatives of that hitherto
+      unrepresented thing&mdash;Literature; if he redeem, by an ambition above
+      place and emolument, the character for subservience that court-poets have
+      obtained for letters&mdash;if he may prove that speculative knowledge is
+      not disjoined from the practical world, and maintain the dignity of
+      disinterestedness that should belong to learning. But the end of a
+      scientific morality is not to serve others only, but also to perfect and
+      accomplish our individual selves; our own souls are a solemn trust to our
+      own lives. You are about to add to your experience of human motives and
+      active men; and whatever additional wisdom you acquire will become equally
+      evident and equally useful, no matter whether it be communicated through
+      action or in books. Enough of this, my dear Ernest. I have come to dine
+      with you, and make you accompany me to-night to a house where you will be
+      welcome, and I think interested. Nay, no excuses. I have promised Lord
+      Latimer that he shall make your acquaintance, and he is one of the most
+      eminent men with whom political life will connect you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And to this change of habits, from the closet to the senate, had
+      Maltravers been induced by a state of health, which, with most men, would
+      have been an excuse for indolence. Indolent he could not be; he had truly
+      said to Ferrers, that &ldquo;action was the condition of his being.&rdquo; If THOUGHT,
+      with its fever and aching tension, had been too severe a taskmaster on the
+      nerves and brain, the coarse and homely pursuit of practical politics
+      would leave the imagination and intellect in repose, while it would excite
+      the hardier qualities and gifts, which animate without exhausting. So, at
+      least, hoped Maltravers. He remembered the profound saying in one of his
+      favourite German authors, &ldquo;that to keep the mind and body in perfect
+      health, it is necessary to mix habitually and betimes in the common
+      affairs of men.&rdquo; And the anonymous correspondent;&mdash;had her
+      exhortations any influence on his decision? I know not. But when Cleveland
+      left him, Maltravers unlocked his desk, and re-perused the last letter he
+      had received from the Unknown. The <i>last</i> letter!&mdash;yes, those
+      epistles had now become frequent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0054" id="link2HCH0054">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ * * * * &ldquo;Le brillant de votre esprit donne un si grand
+  eclat a votre teint et a vos yeux, que quoiqu&rsquo;il semble
+  que l&rsquo;esprit ne doit toucher que les oreilles, il est
+  pourtaut certain que la votre eblouit les yeux.&rdquo; *
+        <i>Lettres de Madame de Sevigne</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      * The brilliancy of your wit gives so great a lustre to your complexion
+      and your eyes, that, though it seems that wit should only reach the ears,
+      it is altogether certain that yours dazzles the eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      AT Lord Latimer&rsquo;s house were assembled some hundreds of those persons who
+      are rarely found together in London society; for business, politics, and
+      literature draught off the most eminent men, and usually leave to houses
+      that receive the world little better than indolent rank or ostentatious
+      wealth. Even the young men of pleasure turn up their noses at parties
+      now-a-days, and find society a bore. But there are some dozen or two of
+      houses, the owners of which are both apart from and above the fashion, in
+      which a foreigner may see, collected under the same roof, many of the most
+      remarkable men of busy, thoughtful, majestic England. Lord Latimer himself
+      had been a cabinet minister. He retired from public life on pretence of
+      ill-health; but, in reality, because its anxious bustle was not congenial
+      to a gentle and accomplished, but somewhat feeble, mind. With a high
+      reputation and an excellent cook he enjoyed a great popularity, both with
+      his own party and the world in general; and he was the centre of a small,
+      but distinguished circle of acquaintances, who drank Latimer&rsquo;s wine, and
+      quoted Latimer&rsquo;s sayings, and liked Latimer much better, because, not
+      being author or minister, he was not in their way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Latimer received Maltravers with marked courtesy, and even deference,
+      and invited him to join his own whist-table, which was one of the highest
+      compliments his lordship could pay to his intellect. But when his guest
+      refused the proffered honour, the earl turned him over to the countess, as
+      having become the property of the womankind; and was soon immersed in his
+      aspirations for the odd trick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Whilst Maltravers was conversing with Lady Latimer, he happened to raise
+      his eyes, and saw opposite to him a young lady of such remarkable beauty,
+      that he could scarcely refrain from an admiring exclamation.&mdash;&ldquo;And
+      who,&rdquo; he asked, recovering himself, &ldquo;is that lady? It is strange that even
+      I, who go so little into the world, should be compelled to inquire the
+      name of one whose beauty must already have made her celebrated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Lady Florence Lascelles&mdash;she came out last year. She is, indeed,
+      most brilliant, yet more so in mind and accomplishments than face. I must
+      be allowed to introduce you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this offer, a strange shyness, and as it were reluctant distrust,
+      seized Maltravers&mdash;a kind of presentiment of danger and evil. He drew
+      back, and would have made some excuse, but Lady Latimer did not heed his
+      embarrassment, and was already by the side of Lady Florence Lascelles. A
+      moment more, and beckoning to Maltravers, the countess presented him to
+      the lady. As he bowed and seated himself beside his new acquaintance, he
+      could not but observe that her cheeks were suffused with the most lively
+      blushes, and that she received him with a confusion not common even in
+      ladies just brought out, and just introduced to &ldquo;a lion.&rdquo; He was rather
+      puzzled than flattered by these tokens of an embarrassment, somewhat akin
+      to his own; and the first few sentences of their conversation passed off
+      with a certain awkwardness and reserve. At this moment, to the surprise,
+      perhaps to the relief, of Ernest, they were joined by Lumley Ferrers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, Lady Florence, I kiss your hands&mdash;I am charmed to find you
+      acquainted with my friend Maltravers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Mr. Ferrers, what makes him so late to-night?&rdquo; asked the fair
+      Florence, with a sudden ease, which rather startled Maltravers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A dull dinner, <i>voila tout</i>&mdash;I have no other excuse.&rdquo; And
+      Ferrers, sliding into a vacant chair on the other side of Lady Florence,
+      conversed volubly and unceasingly, as if seeking to monopolise her
+      attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ernest had not been so much captivated with the manner of Florence as he
+      had been struck with her beauty, and now, seeing her apparently engaged
+      with another, he rose and quietly moved away. He was soon one of a knot of
+      men who were conversing on the absorbing topics of the day; and as by
+      degrees the exciting subject brought out his natural eloquence and
+      masculine sense, the talkers became listeners, the knot widened into a
+      circle, and he himself was unconsciously the object of general attention
+      and respect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what think you of Mr. Maltravers?&rdquo; asked Ferrers, carelessly; &ldquo;does
+      he keep up your expectations?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Florence had sunk into a reverie, and Ferrers repeated his question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is younger than I imagined him,&mdash;and&mdash;and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Handsomer, I suppose, you mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No! calmer and less animated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He seems animated enough now,&rdquo; said Ferrers; &ldquo;but your ladylike
+      conversation failed in striking the Promethean spark. &lsquo;Lay that flattering
+      unction to your soul.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, you are right&mdash;he must have thought me very&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beautiful, no doubt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beautiful!&mdash;I hate the word, Lumley. I wish I were not handsome&mdash;I
+      might then get some credit for my intellect.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; said Ferrers, significantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you don&rsquo;t think so, sceptic,&rdquo; said Florence, shaking her head with a
+      slight laugh, and an altered manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does it matter what I think,&rdquo; said Ferrers, with an attempted touch at
+      the sentimental, &ldquo;when Lord This, and Lord That, and Mr. So-and-so, and
+      Count What-d&rsquo;ye-call-him, are all making their way to you, to dispossess
+      me of my envied monopoly?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While Ferrers spoke, several of the scattered loungers grouped around
+      Florence, and the conversation, of which she was the cynosure, became
+      animated and gay. Oh, how brilliant she was, that peerless Florence!&mdash;with
+      what petulant and sparkling grace came wit and wisdom, and even genius,
+      from those ruby lips! Even the assured Ferrers felt his subtle intellect
+      as dull and coarse to hers, and shrank with a reluctant apprehension from
+      the arrows of her careless and prodigal repartees. For there was a scorn
+      in the nature of Florence Lascelles which made her wit pain more
+      frequently than it pleased. Educated even to learning&mdash;courageous
+      even to a want of feminacy&mdash;she delighted to sport with ignorance and
+      pretension, even in the highest places; and the laugh that she excited was
+      like lightning;&mdash;no one could divine where next it might fall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Florence, though dreaded and unloved, was yet courted, flattered, and
+      the rage. For this there were two reasons: first, she was a coquette, and
+      secondly, she was an heiress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus the talkers in the room were divided into two principal groups, over
+      one of which Maltravers may be said to have presided; over the other,
+      Florence. As the former broke up, Ernest was joined by Cleveland.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear cousin,&rdquo; said Florence, suddenly, and in a whisper, as she turned
+      to Lumley, &ldquo;your friend is speaking of me&mdash;I see it. Go, I implore
+      you, and let me know what he says!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The commission is not flattering,&rdquo; said Ferrers, almost sullenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, a commission to gratify a woman&rsquo;s curiosity is ever one of the most
+      flattering embassies with which we can invest an able negotiator.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I must do your bidding, though I disown the favour.&rdquo; Ferrers moved
+      away, and joined Cleveland and Maltravers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is, indeed, beautiful: so perfect a contour I never beheld: she is
+      the only woman I ever saw in whom the aquiline features seem more
+      classical than even the Greek.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So, that is your opinion of my fair cousin!&rdquo; cried Ferrers, &ldquo;you are
+      caught.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish he were,&rdquo; said Cleveland. &ldquo;Ernest is now old enough to settle, and
+      there is not a more dazzling prize in England&mdash;rich, high-born,
+      lovely, and accomplished.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what say you?&rdquo; asked Lumley, almost impatiently, to Maltravers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I never saw one whom I admire more or could love less,&rdquo; replied
+      Ernest, as he quitted the rooms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ferrers looked after him, and muttered to himself; he then rejoined
+      Florence, who presently rose to depart, and taking Lumley&rsquo;s arm, said,
+      &ldquo;Well, I see my father is looking round for me&mdash;and so for once I
+      will forestall him. Come, Lumley, let us join him; I know he wants to see
+      you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; said Florence, blushing deeply, and almost breathless, as they
+      crossed the now half-empty apartments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, my cousin?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You provoke me&mdash;well, then, what said your friend?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That you deserved your reputation of beauty, but that you were not his
+      style. Maltravers is in love, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In love?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, a pretty Frenchwoman! quite romantic&mdash;an attachment of some
+      years&rsquo; standing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence turned away her face, and said no more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s a good fellow, Lumley,&rdquo; said Lord Saxingham; &ldquo;Florence is never
+      more welcome to my eyes than at half-past one o&rsquo;clock A.M., when I
+      associate her with thoughts of my natural rest, and my unfortunate
+      carriage-horses. By the by, I wish you would dine with me next Saturday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Saturday: unfortunately I am engaged to my uncle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! he has behaved handsomely to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Templeton pretty well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fancy so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As ladies wish to be, etc.?&rdquo; whispered his lordship.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, thank Heaven!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, if the old man could but make you his heir, we might think twice
+      about the title.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear lord, stop! one favour&mdash;write me a line to hint that
+      delicately.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;no letters; letters always get into the papers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But cautiously worded&mdash;no danger of publication, on my honour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll think of it. Good night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0064" id="link2H_4_0064">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      BOOK VII.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ Every man should strive to be as good as possible, but not
+ suppose himself to be the only thing that is good.
+        &mdash;PLOTIN. EN. 11. lib. ix. c. 9.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0055" id="link2HCH0055">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Deceit is the strong but subtle chain which runs through
+  all the members of a society, and links them together;
+  trick or be tricked is the alternative; &lsquo;tis the way of
+  the world, and without it intercourse would drop.&rdquo;
+         <i>Anonymous writer</i> of 1722.
+
+ &ldquo;A lovely child she was, of looks serene,
+  And motions which o&rsquo;er things indifferent shed
+  The grace and gentleness from whence they came.&rdquo;
+         PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
+
+ &ldquo;His years but young, but his experience old.&rdquo;&mdash;SHAKESPEARE.
+
+ &ldquo;He after honour hunts, I after love.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Ibid.</i>
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      LUMLEY FERRERS was one of the few men in the world who act upon a
+      profound, deliberate, and organized system&mdash;he had done so even from
+      a boy. When he was twenty-one, he had said to himself, &ldquo;Youth is the
+      season for enjoyment: the triumphs of manhood, the wealth of age, do not
+      compensate for a youth spent in unpleasurable toils.&rdquo; Agreeably to this
+      maxim, he had resolved not to adopt any profession; and being fond of
+      travel, and of a restless temper, he had indulged abroad in all the
+      gratifications that his moderate income could afford him: that income went
+      farther on the Continent than at home, which was another reason for the
+      prolongation of his travels. Now, when the whims and passions of youth
+      were sated; and, ripened by a consummate and various knowledge of mankind,
+      his harder capacities of mind became developed and centred into such
+      ambition as it was his nature to conceive, he acted no less upon a regular
+      and methodical plan of conduct, which he carried into details. He had
+      little or nothing within himself to cross his cold theories by
+      contradictory practice; for he was curbed by no principles and regulated
+      but by few tastes: and our tastes are often checks as powerful as our
+      principles. Looking round the English world, Ferrers saw, that at his age
+      and with an equivocal position, and no chances to throw away, it was
+      necessary that he should cast off all attributes of the character of the
+      wanderer and the <i>garcon</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is nothing respectable in lodgings and a cab,&rdquo; said Ferrers to
+      himself&mdash;that &ldquo;<i>self</i>&rdquo; was his grand confidant!&mdash;&ldquo;nothing
+      stationary. Such are the appliances of a here-to-day-gone-to-morrow kind
+      of life. One never looks substantial till one pays rates and taxes, and
+      has a bill with one&rsquo;s butcher!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Accordingly, without saying a word to anybody, Ferrers took a long lease
+      of a large house, in one of those quiet streets that proclaim the owners
+      do not wish to be made by fashionable situations&mdash;streets in which,
+      if you have a large house, it is supposed to be because you can afford
+      one. He was very particular in its being a respectable street&mdash;Great
+      George Street, Westminster, was the one he selected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      No frippery or baubles, common to the mansions of young bachelors&mdash;no
+      buhl, and marquetrie, and Sevres china, and cabinet pictures,
+      distinguished the large dingy drawing-rooms of Lumley Ferrers. He bought
+      all the old furniture a bargain of the late tenant&mdash;tea-coloured
+      chintz curtains, and chairs and sofas that were venerable and solemn with
+      the accumulated dust of twenty-five years. The only things about which he
+      was particular were a very long dining-table that would hold
+      four-and-twenty, and a new mahogany sideboard. Somebody asked him why he
+      cared about such articles. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; said he &ldquo;but I observe all
+      respectable family-men do&mdash;there must be something in it&mdash;I
+      shall discover the secret by and by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In this house did Mr. Ferrers ensconce himself with two middle-aged
+      maidservants, and a man out of livery, whom he chose from a multitude of
+      candidates, because the man looked especially well fed. Having thus
+      settled himself, and told every one that the lease of his house was for
+      sixty-three years, Lumley Ferrers made a little calculation of his
+      probable expenditure, which he found, with good management, might amount
+      to about one-fourth more than his income.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall take the surplus out of my capital,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;and try the
+      experiment for five years; if it don&rsquo;t do, and pay me profitably, why,
+      then either men are not to be lived upon, or Lumley Ferrers is a much
+      duller clog than he thinks himself!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Ferrers had deeply studied the character of his uncle, as a prudent
+      speculator studies the qualities of a mine in which he means to invest his
+      capital, and much of his present proceedings was intended to act upon the
+      uncle as well as upon the world. He saw that the more he could obtain for
+      himself, not a noisy, social, fashionable reputation, but a good, sober,
+      substantial one, the more highly Mr. Templeton would consider him, and the
+      more likely he was to be made his uncle&rsquo;s heir,&mdash;that is, provided
+      Mrs. Templeton did not supersede the nepotal parasite by indigenous
+      olive-branches. This last apprehension died away as time passed, and no
+      signs of fertility appeared. And, accordingly, Ferrers thought he might
+      prudently hazard more upon the game on which he now ventured to rely.
+      There was one thing, however, that greatly disturbed his peace; Mr.
+      Templeton, though harsh and austere in his manner to his wife, was
+      evidently attached to her; and, above all, he cherished the fondest
+      affection for his stepdaughter. He was as anxious for her health, her
+      education, her little childish enjoyments, as if he had been not only her
+      parent, but a very doting one. He could not bear her to be crossed or
+      thwarted. Mr. Templeton, who had never spoiled anything before, not even
+      an old pen (so careful, and calculating, and methodical was he), did his
+      best to spoil this beautiful child whom he could not even have the vain
+      luxury of thinking he had produced to the admiring world. Softly,
+      exquisitely lovely was that little girl; and every day she increased in
+      the charm of her person, and in the caressing fascination of her childish
+      ways. Her temper was so sweet and docile, that fondness and petting,
+      however injudiciously exhibited, only seemed yet more to bring out the
+      colours of a grateful and tender nature. Perhaps the measured kindness of
+      more reserved affection might have been the true way of spoiling one whose
+      instincts were all for exacting and returning love. She was a plant that
+      suns less warm might have nipped and chilled. But beneath an uncapricious
+      and unclouded sunshine she sprang up in a luxurious bloom of heart and
+      sweetness of disposition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Every one, even those who did not generally like children, delighted in
+      this charming creature, excepting only Mr. Lumley Ferrers. But that
+      gentleman, less mild than Pope&rsquo;s Narcissa,&mdash;
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   &ldquo;To make a wash, had gladly stewed the child!&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      He had seen how very common it is for a rich man, married late in life, to
+      leave everything to a young widow and her children by her former marriage,
+      when once attached to the latter; and he sensibly felt that he himself had
+      but a slight hold over Templeton by the chain of the affections. He
+      resolved, therefore, as much as possible, to alienate his uncle from his
+      young wife; trusting that, as the influence of the wife was weakened, that
+      of the child would be lessened also; and to raise in Templeton&rsquo;s vanity
+      and ambition an ally that might supply to himself the want of love. He
+      pursued his twofold scheme with masterly art and address. He first sought
+      to secure the confidence and regard of the melancholy and gentle mother;
+      and in this&mdash;for she was peculiarly unsuspicious and inexperienced,
+      he obtained signal and complete success. His frankness of manner, his
+      deferential attention, the art with which he warded off from her the
+      spleen or ill-humour of Mr. Templeton, the cheerfulness that his easy
+      gaiety threw over a very gloomy house, made the poor lady hail his visits
+      and trust in his friendship. Perhaps she was glad of any interruption to
+      <i>tetes-a-tetes</i> with a severe and ungenial husband, who had no
+      sympathy for the sorrows, of whatever nature they might be, which preyed
+      upon her, and who made it a point of morality to find fault wherever he
+      could.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next step in Lumley&rsquo;s policy was to arm Templeton&rsquo;s vanity against his
+      wife, by constantly refreshing his consciousness of the sacrifices he had
+      made by marriage, and the certainty that he would have attained all his
+      wishes had he chosen more prudently. By perpetually, but most judiciously,
+      rubbing this sore point, he, as it were, fixed the irritability into
+      Templeton&rsquo;s constitution, and it reacted on all his thoughts, aspiring or
+      domestic. Still, however, to Lumley&rsquo;s great surprise and resentment, while
+      Templeton cooled to his wife, he only warmed to her child. Lumley had not
+      calculated enough upon the thirst and craving for affection in most human
+      hearts; and Templeton, though not exactly an amiable man, had some
+      excellent qualities; if he had less sensitively regarded the opinion of
+      the world, he would neither have contracted the vocabulary of cant, nor
+      sickened for a peerage&mdash;both his affectation of saintship, and his
+      gnawing desire of rank, arose from an extraordinary and morbid deference
+      to opinion, and a wish for worldly honours and respect, which he felt that
+      his mere talents could not secure to him. But he was, at bottom, a kindly
+      man&mdash;charitable to the poor, considerate to his servants, and had
+      within him the want to love and be loved, which is one of the desires
+      wherewith the atoms of the universe are cemented and harmonised. Had Mrs.
+      Templeton evinced love to him, he might have defied all Lumley&rsquo;s
+      diplomacy, been consoled for worldly disadvantages, and been a good and
+      even uxorious husband. But she evidently did not love him, though an
+      admirable, patient, provident wife; and her daughter <i>did</i> love him&mdash;love
+      him as well even as she loved her mother; and the hard worldling would not
+      have accepted a kingdom as the price of that little fountain of pure and
+      ever-refreshing tenderness. Wise and penetrating as Lumley was, he never
+      could thoroughly understand this weakness, as he called it; for we never
+      know men entirely, unless we have complete sympathies with men in all
+      their natural emotions; and Nature had left the workmanship of Lumley
+      Ferrers unfinished and incomplete, by denying him the possibility of
+      caring for anything but himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His plan for winning Templeton&rsquo;s esteem and deference was, however,
+      completely triumphant. He took care that nothing in his <i>menage</i>
+      should appear &ldquo;<i>extravagant</i>;&rdquo; all was sober, quiet, and
+      well-regulated. He declared that he had so managed as to live within his
+      income: and Templeton receiving no hint for money, nor aware that Ferrers
+      had on the Continent consumed a considerable portion of his means,
+      believed him. Ferrers gave a great many dinners, but he did not go on that
+      foolish plan which has been laid down by persons who pretend to know life,
+      as a means of popularity&mdash;he did not profess to give dinners better
+      than other people. He knew that, unless you are a very rich or a very
+      great man, no folly is equal to that of thinking that you soften the
+      hearts of your friends by soups <i>a la bisque</i>, and Johannisberg at a
+      guinea a bottle. They all go away saying, &ldquo;What right has that d&mdash;&mdash;d
+      fellow to give a better dinner than we do? What horrid taste! What
+      ridiculous presumption.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No; though Ferrers himself was a most scientific epicure, and held the
+      luxury of the palate at the highest possible price, he dieted his friends
+      on what he termed &ldquo;respectable fare.&rdquo; His cook put plenty of flour into
+      the oyster sauce; cod&rsquo;s head and shoulders made his invariable fish; and
+      four <i>entrees</i>, without flavour or pretence, were duly supplied by
+      the pastry-cook, and carefully eschewed by the host. Neither did Mr.
+      Ferrers affect to bring about him gay wits and brilliant talkers. He
+      confined himself to men of substantial consideration, and generally took
+      care to be himself the cleverest person present; while he turned the
+      conversation on serious matters crammed for the occasion&mdash;politics,
+      stocks, commerce, and the criminal code. Pruning his gaiety, though he
+      retained his frankness, he sought to be known as a highly-informed,
+      painstaking man, who would be sure to rise. His connections, and a certain
+      nameless charm about him, consisting chiefly in a pleasant countenance, a
+      bold yet winning candour, and the absence of all <i>hauteur</i> or
+      pretence, enabled him to assemble round this plain table, which, if it
+      gratified no taste, wounded no self-love, a sufficient number of public
+      men of rank, and eminent men of business, to answer his purpose. The
+      situation he had chosen, so near the Houses of Parliament, was convenient
+      to politicians, and, by degrees, the large dingy drawing-rooms became a
+      frequent resort for public men to talk over those thousand underplots by
+      which a party is served or attached. Thus, though not in parliament
+      himself, Ferrers became insensibly associated with parliamentary men and
+      things, and the ministerial party, whose politics he espoused, praised him
+      highly, made use of him, and meant, some day or other, to do something for
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While the career of this able and unprincipled man thus opened&mdash;and
+      of course the opening was not made in a day&mdash;Ernest Maltravers was
+      ascending by a rough, thorny, and encumbered path, to that eminence on
+      which the monuments of men are built. His success in public life was not
+      brilliant nor sudden. For, though he had eloquence and knowledge, he
+      disdained all oratorical devices; and though he had passion and energy, he
+      could scarcely be called a warm partisan. He met with much envy, and many
+      obstacles; and the gracious and buoyant sociality of temper and manners
+      that had, in early youth, made him the idol of his contemporaries at
+      school or college, had long since faded away into a cold, settled, and
+      lofty, though gentle reserve, which did not attract towards him the animal
+      spirits of the herd. But though he spoke seldom, and heard many, with half
+      his powers, more enthusiastically cheered, he did not fail of commanding
+      attention and respect; and though no darling of cliques and parties, yet
+      in that great body of the people who were ever the audience and tribunal
+      to which, in letters or in politics, Maltravers appealed, there was
+      silently growing up, and spreading wide, a belief in his upright
+      intentions, his unpurchasable honour, and his correct and well-considered
+      views. He felt that his name was safely invested, though the return for
+      the capital was slow and moderate. He was contented to abide his time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Every day he grew more attached to that true philosophy which makes a man,
+      as far as the world will permit, a world to himself; and from the height
+      of a tranquil and serene self-esteem, he felt the sun shine above him,
+      when malignant clouds spread sullen and ungenial below. He did not despise
+      or wilfully shock opinion, neither did he fawn upon and flatter it. Where
+      he thought the world should be humoured, he humoured&mdash;where
+      contemned, he contemned it. There are many cases in which an honest,
+      well-educated, high-hearted individual is a much better judge than the
+      multitude of what is right and what is wrong; and in these matters he is
+      not worth three straws if he suffer the multitude to bully or coax him out
+      of his judgment. The Public, if you indulge it, is a most damnable gossip,
+      thrusting its nose into people&rsquo;s concerns, where it has no right to make
+      or meddle; and in those things, where the Public is impertinent,
+      Maltravers scorned and resisted its interference as haughtily as he would
+      the interference of any insolent member of the insolent whole. It was this
+      mixture of deep love and profound respect for the eternal PEOPLE, and of
+      calm, passionless disdain for that capricious charlatan, the momentary
+      PUBLIC, which made Ernest Maltravers an original and solitary thinker; and
+      an actor, in reality modest and benevolent, in appearance arrogant and
+      unsocial. &ldquo;Pauperism, in contradistinction to poverty,&rdquo; he was wont to
+      say, &ldquo;is the dependence upon other people for existence, not on our own
+      exertions; there is a moral pauperism in the man who is dependent on
+      others for that support of moral life&mdash;self-respect.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Wrapped in this philosophy, he pursued his haughty and lonesome way, and
+      felt that in the deep heart of mankind, when prejudices and envies should
+      die off, there would be a sympathy with his motives and his career. So far
+      as his own health was concerned, the experiment had answered. No mere
+      drudgery of business&mdash;late hours and dull speeches&mdash;can produce
+      the dread exhaustion which follows the efforts of the soul to mount into
+      the higher air of severe thought or intense imagination. Those faculties
+      which had been overstrained now lay fallow&mdash;and the frame rapidly
+      regained its tone. Of private comfort and inspiration Ernest knew but
+      little. He gradually grew estranged from his old friend Ferrers, as their
+      habits became opposed. Cleveland lived more and more in the country, and
+      was too well satisfied with his quondam pupil&rsquo;s course of life and
+      progressive reputation to trouble him with exhortation or advice. Cesarini
+      had grown a literary lion, whose genius was vehemently lauded by all the
+      reviews&mdash;on the same principle as that which induces us to praise
+      foreign singers or dead men;&mdash;we must praise something, and we don&rsquo;t
+      like to praise those who jostle ourselves. Cesarini had therefore grown
+      prodigiously conceited&mdash;swore that England was the only country for
+      true merit; and no longer concealed his jealous anger at the wider
+      celebrity of Maltravers. Ernest saw him squandering away his substance,
+      and prostituting his talents to drawing-room trifles, with a compassionate
+      sigh. He sought to warn him, but Cesarini listened to him with such
+      impatience that he resigned the office of monitor. He wrote to De
+      Montaigne, who succeeded no better. Cesarini was bent on playing his own
+      game. And to one game, without a metaphor, he had at last come. His
+      craving for excitement vented itself at Hazard, and his remaining guineas
+      melted daily away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But De Montaigne&rsquo;s letters to Maltravers consoled him for the loss of less
+      congenial friends. The Frenchman was now an eminent and celebrated man;
+      and his appreciation of Maltravers was sweeter to the latter than would
+      have been the huzzas of crowds. But, all this while, his vanity was
+      pleased and his curiosity roused by the continued correspondence of his
+      unseen Egeria. That correspondence (if so it may be called, being all on
+      one side) had now gone on for a considerable time, and he was still wholly
+      unable to discover the author: its tone had of late altered&mdash;it had
+      become more sad and subdued&mdash;it spoke of the hollowness as well as
+      the rewards of fame; and, with a touch of true womanly sentiment, often
+      hinted more at the rapture of soothing dejection, than of sharing triumph.
+      In all these letters, there was the undeniable evidence of high intellect
+      and deep feeling; they excited a strong and keen interest in Maltravers,
+      yet the interest was not that which made him wish to discover, in order
+      that he might love, the writer. They were for the most part too full of
+      the irony and bitterness of a man&rsquo;s spirit, to fascinate one who
+      considered that gentleness was the essence of a woman&rsquo;s strength. Temper
+      spoke in them, no less than mind and heart, and it was not the sort of
+      temper which a man who loves women to be womanly could admire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hear you often spoken of&rdquo; (ran one of these strange epistles), &ldquo;and I
+      am almost equally angry whether fools presume to praise or to blame you.
+      This miserable world we live in, how I loathe and disdain it!&mdash;yet I
+      desire you to serve and to master it! Weak contradiction, effeminate
+      paradox! Oh! rather a thousand times that you would fly from its mean
+      temptations and poor rewards!&mdash;if the desert were your dwelling-place
+      and you wished one minister, I could renounce all&mdash;wealth, flattery,
+      repute, womanhood&mdash;to serve you.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I once admired you for your genius. My disease has fastened on me, and I
+      now almost worship you for yourself. I have seen you, Ernest Maltravers,&mdash;seen
+      you often,&mdash;and when you never suspected that these eyes were on you.
+      Now that I have seen, I understand you better. We can not judge men by
+      their books and deeds. Posterity can know nothing of the beings of the
+      past. A thousand books never written&mdash;a thousand deeds never done&mdash;are
+      in the eyes and lips of the few greater than the herd. In that cold,
+      abstracted gaze, that pale and haughty brow, I read the disdain of
+      obstacles, which is worthy of one who is confident of the goal. But my
+      eyes fill with tears when I survey you!&mdash;you are sad, you are alone!
+      If failures do not mortify you, success does not elevate. Oh, Maltravers,
+      I, woman as I am, and living in a narrow circle, I, even I, know at last
+      that to have desires nobler, and ends more august, than others, is but to
+      surrender waking life to morbid and melancholy dreams.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go more into the world, Maltravers&mdash;go more into the world, or quit
+      it altogether. Your enemies must be met; they accumulate, they grow strong&mdash;you
+      are too tranquil, too slow in your steps towards the prize which should be
+      yours, to satisfy my impatience, to satisfy your friends. Be less refined
+      in your ambition that you may be more immediately useful. The feet of clay
+      after all are the swiftest in the race. Even Lumley Ferrers will outstrip
+      you if you do not take heed.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do I run on thus!&mdash;you&mdash;you love another, yet you are not
+      less the ideal that I could love&mdash;if ever I loved any one. You love&mdash;and
+      yet&mdash;well&mdash;no matter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0056" id="link2HCH0056">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Well, but this is being only an official nobleman. No matter,
+  &lsquo;tis still being a nobleman, and that&rsquo;s his aim.&rdquo;
+    <i>Anonymous writer of 1772</i>.
+
+ &ldquo;La musique est le seul des talens qui jouissent de lui-meme;
+  tons les autres veulent des temoins.&rdquo; *&mdash;MARMONTEL.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      * Music is the sole talent which gives pleasure of itself; all the others
+      require witnesses.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Thus the slow ox would gaudy trappings claim.&rdquo;&mdash;HORACE.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      MR. TEMPLETON had not obtained his peerage, and, though he had met with no
+      direct refusal, nor made even a direct application to headquarters, he was
+      growing sullen. He had great parliamentary influence, not close borough,
+      illegitimate influence, but very proper orthodox influence of character,
+      wealth, and so forth. He could return one member at least for a city&mdash;he
+      could almost return one member for a county, and in three boroughs any
+      activity on his part could turn the scale in a close contest. The
+      ministers were strong, but still they could not afford to lose supporters
+      hitherto zealous&mdash;the example of desertion is contagious. In the town
+      which Templeton had formerly represented, and which he now almost
+      commanded, a vacancy suddenly occurred&mdash;a candidate started on the
+      opposition side and commenced a canvass; to the astonishment and panic of
+      the Secretary of the Treasury, Templeton put forward no one, and his
+      interest remained dormant. Lord Saxingham hurried to Lumley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear fellow, what is this?&mdash;what can your uncle be about? We
+      shall lose this place&mdash;one of our strongholds. Bets run even.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you see, you have all behaved very ill to my uncle&mdash;I am really
+      sorry for it, but I can do nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, this confounded peerage! Will that content him, and nothing short
+      of it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He must have it, by Jove!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And even that may come too late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! do you think so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you leave the matter to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly&mdash;you are a monstrous clever fellow, and we all esteem
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down and write as I dictate, my dear lord.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Lord Saxingham, seating himself at Lumley&rsquo;s enormous
+      writing-table&mdash;&ldquo;well, go on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>My dear Mr. Templeton</i>&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Too familiar,&rdquo; said Lord Saxingham.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a bit; go on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>My dear Mr. Templeton:</i>&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>We are anxious to secure your parliamentary influence in C&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;
+      to the proper quarter, namely, to your own family, as the best defenders
+      of the administration, which you honour by your support. We wish signally,
+      at the same time, to express our confidence in your principles, and our
+      gratitude for your countenance.</i>&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;D&mdash;&mdash;-d sour countenance!&rdquo; muttered Lord Saxingham.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>Accordingly,</i>&rdquo; continued Ferrers, &ldquo;<i>as one whose connection with
+      you permits the liberty, allow me to request that you will suffer our
+      joint relation, Mr. Ferrers, to be put into immediate nomination.</i>&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Saxingham threw down the pen and laughed for two minutes without
+      ceasing. &ldquo;Capital, Lumley, capital&mdash;Very odd I did not think of it
+      before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Each man for himself, and God for us all,&rdquo; returned Lumley, gravely:
+      &ldquo;pray go on, my dear lord.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>We are sure you could not have a representative that would, more
+      faithfully reflect your own opinions and our interests. One word more. A
+      creation of peers will probably take place in the spring, among which I am
+      sure your name would be to his Majesty a gratifying addition; the title
+      will of course be secured to your sons&mdash;and failing the latter, to
+      your nephew.</i>
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;<i>With great regard and respect,</i>
+
+        &ldquo;<i>Truly yours,</i>
+
+          &ldquo;<i>SAXINGHAM.</i>&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, inscribe that &lsquo;Private and confidential,&rsquo; and send it express to
+      my uncle&rsquo;s villa.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It shall be done, my dear Lumley&mdash;and this contents me as much as it
+      does you. You are really a man to do us credit. You think it will be
+      arranged?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, good day. Lumley, come to me when it is all settled: Florence is
+      always glad to see you; she says no one amuses her more. And I am sure
+      that is rare praise, for she is a strange girl,&mdash;quite a Timon in
+      petticoats.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Away went Lord Saxingham.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Florence glad to see me!&rdquo; said Lumley, throwing his arms behind him, and
+      striding to and fro the room&mdash;&ldquo;Scheme the Second begins to smile upon
+      me behind the advancing shadow of Scheme One. If I can but succeed in
+      keeping away other suitors from my fair cousin until I am in a condition
+      to propose myself, why, I may carry off the greatest match in the three
+      kingdoms. <i>Courage, mon brave Ferrers, courage!</i>&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was late that evening when Ferrers arrived at his uncle&rsquo;s villa. He
+      found Mrs. Templeton in the drawing-room seated at the piano. He entered
+      gently; she did not hear him, and continued at the instrument. Her voice
+      was so sweet and rich, her taste so pure, that Ferrers, who was a good
+      judge of music, stood in delighted surprise. Often as he had now been a
+      visitor, even an inmate, at the house, he had never before heard Mrs.
+      Templeton play any but sacred airs, and this was one of the popular songs
+      of sentiment. He perceived that her feeling at last overpowered her voice,
+      and she paused abruptly, and turning round, her face was so eloquent of
+      emotion, that Ferrers was forcibly struck by its expression. He was not a
+      man apt to feel curiosity for anything not immediately concerning himself;
+      but he did feel curious about this melancholy and beautiful woman. There
+      was in her usual aspect that inexpressible look of profound resignation
+      which betokens a lasting remembrance of a bitter past: a prematurely
+      blighted heart spoke in her eyes, in her smile, her languid and joyless
+      step. But she performed the routine of her quiet duties with a calm and
+      conscientious regularity which showed that grief rather depressed than
+      disturbed her thoughts. If her burden were heavy, custom seemed to have
+      reconciled her to bear it without repining; and the emotion which Ferrers
+      now traced in her soft and harmonious features was of a nature he had only
+      once witnessed before&mdash;viz., on the first night he had seen her, when
+      poetry, which is the key of memory, had evidently opened a chamber haunted
+      by mournful and troubled ghosts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! dear madam,&rdquo; said Ferrers, advancing, as he found himself discovered,
+      &ldquo;I trust I do not disturb you. My visit is unseasonable; but my uncle&mdash;where
+      is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has been in town all the morning; he said he should dine out, and I
+      now expect him every minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been endeavouring to charm away the sense of his absence. Dare I
+      ask you to continue to play? It is seldom that I hear a voice so sweet and
+      skill so consummate. You must have been instructed by the best Italian
+      masters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Mrs. Templeton, with a very slight colour in her delicate
+      cheek, &ldquo;I learned young, and of one who loved music and felt it; but who
+      was not a foreigner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you sing me that song again?&mdash;you give the words a beauty I
+      never discovered in them; yet they (as well as the music itself), are by
+      my poor friend whom Mr. Templeton does not like&mdash;Maltravers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are they his also?&rdquo; said Mrs. Templeton, with emotion; &ldquo;it is strange I
+      did not know it. I heard the air in the streets, and it struck me much. I
+      inquired the name of the song and bought it&mdash;it is very strange!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is strange?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That there is a kind of language in your friend&rsquo;s music and poetry which
+      comes home to me, like words I have heard years ago! Is he young, this Mr.
+      Maltravers?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, he is still young.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And, and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here Mrs. Templeton was interrupted by the entrance of her husband. He
+      held the letter from Lord Saxingham&mdash;it was yet unopened. He seemed
+      moody; but that was common with him. He coldly shook hands with Lumley;
+      nodded to his wife, found fault with the fire, and throwing himself into
+      his easy-chair, said, &ldquo;So, Lumley, I think I was a fool for taking your
+      advice&mdash;and hanging back about this new election. I see by the
+      evening papers that there is shortly to be a creation of peers. If I had
+      shown activity on behalf of the government I might have shamed them into
+      gratitude.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I was right, sir,&rdquo; replied Lumley; &ldquo;public men are often alarmed
+      into gratitude, seldom shamed into it. Firm votes, like old friends, are
+      most valued when we think we are about to lose them; but what is that
+      letter in your hand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, some begging petition, I suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me&mdash;it has an official look.&rdquo; Templeton put on his
+      spectacles, raised the letter, examined the address and seal, hastily
+      opened it, and broke into an exclamation very like an oath: when he had
+      concluded&mdash;&ldquo;Give me your hand, nephew&mdash;the thing is settled&mdash;I
+      am to have the peerage. You were right&mdash;ha, ha!&mdash;my dear wife,
+      you will be my lady, think of that&mdash;aren&rsquo;t you glad?&mdash;why don&rsquo;t
+      your ladyship smile? Where&rsquo;s the child&mdash;where is she, I say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone to bed, sir,&rdquo; said Mrs. Templeton, half frightened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone to bed! I must go and kiss her. Gone to bed, has she? Light that
+      candle, Lumley.&rdquo; [Here Mr. Templeton rang the bell.] &ldquo;John,&rdquo; said he, as
+      the servant entered,&mdash;&ldquo;John, tell James to go the first thing in the
+      morning to Baxter&rsquo;s, and tell him not to paint my chariot till he hears
+      from me. I must go kiss the child&mdash;I must, really.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;D&mdash;- the child,&rdquo; muttered Lumley, as, after giving the candle to his
+      uncle, he turned to the fire; &ldquo;what the deuce has she got to do with the
+      matter? Charming little girl&mdash;yours, madam! how I love her! My uncle
+      dotes on her&mdash;no wonder!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is, indeed, very, very, fond of her,&rdquo; said Mrs. Templeton, with a sigh
+      that seemed to come from the depth of her heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he take a fancy to her before you were married?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I believe&mdash;oh yes, certainly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her own father could not be more fond of her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Templeton made no answer, but lighted her candle, and wishing Lumley
+      good night, glided from the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder if my grave aunt and my grave uncle took a bite at the apple
+      before they bought the right of the tree. It looks suspicious; yet no, it
+      can&rsquo;t be; there is nothing of the seducer or the seductive about the old
+      fellow. It is not likely&mdash;here he comes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In came Templeton, and his eyes were moist, and his brow relaxed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how is the little angel, sir?&rdquo; asked Ferrers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She kissed me, though I woke her up; children are usually cross when
+      wakened.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are they?&mdash;little dears! Well, sir, so I was right, then; may I see
+      the letter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ferrers drew his chair to the fire, and read his own production with all
+      the satisfaction of an anonymous author.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How kind!&mdash;how considerate!&mdash;how delicately put!&mdash;a double
+      favour! But perhaps, after all, it does not express your wishes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In what way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why&mdash;why&mdash;about myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>You!</i>&mdash;is there anything about <i>you</i> in it?&mdash;I did
+      not observe <i>that</i>&mdash;let me see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncles never selfish!&mdash;mem. for commonplace book!&rdquo; thought Ferrers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The uncle knit his brows as he re-perused the letter. &ldquo;This won&rsquo;t do,
+      Lumley,&rdquo; said he very shortly, when he had done.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A seat in parliament is too much honour for a poor nephew, then, sir?&rdquo;
+       said Lumley, very bitterly, though he did not feel at all bitter; but it
+      was the proper tone. &ldquo;I have done all in my power to advance your
+      ambition, and you will not even lend a hand to forward me one step in my
+      career. But, forgive me, sir, I have no right to expect it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lumley,&rdquo; replied Templeton, kindly, &ldquo;you mistake me. I think much more
+      highly of you than I did&mdash;much: there is a steadiness, a sobriety
+      about you most praiseworthy, and you shall go into parliament if you wish
+      it; but not for C&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;. I will give my interest there to
+      some other friend of the government, and in return they can give you a
+      treasury borough! That is the same thing to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lumley was agreeably surprised&mdash;he pressed his uncle&rsquo;s hand warmly,
+      and thanked him cordially. Mr. Templeton proceeded to explain to him that
+      it was inconvenient and expensive sitting for places where one&rsquo;s family
+      was known, and Lumley fully subscribed to all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As for the settlement of the peerage, that is all right,&rdquo; said Templeton;
+      and then he sank into a reverie, from which he broke joyously&mdash;&ldquo;yes,
+      that is all right. I have projects, objects&mdash;this may unite them all&mdash;nothing
+      can be better&mdash;you will be the next lord&mdash;what&mdash;I say, what
+      title shall we have?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, take a sounding one&mdash;you have very little landed property, I
+      think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Two thousand a year in &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;shire, bought a bargain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the name of the place?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grubley.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lord Grubley!&mdash;Baron Grubley of Grubley&mdash;oh, atrocious! Who had
+      the place before you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bought it of Mr. Sheepshanks&mdash;very old family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But surely some old Norman once had the place?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Norman, yes! Henry the Second gave it to his barber&mdash;Bertram
+      Courval.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s it!&mdash;that&rsquo;s it! Lord de Courval&mdash;singular coincidence!&mdash;descent
+      from the old line. Herald&rsquo;s College soon settle all that. Lord de Courval!&mdash;nothing
+      can sound better. There must be a village or hamlet still called Courval
+      about the property.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid not. There is Coddle End!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Coddle End!&mdash;Coddle End!&mdash;the very thing, sir&mdash;the very
+      thing&mdash;clear corruption from Courval!&mdash;Lord de Courval of
+      Courval! Superb! Ha! ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! ha!&rdquo; laughed Templeton, and he had hardly laughed before since he was
+      thirty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The relations sat long and conversed familiarly. Ferrers slept at the
+      villa, and his sleep was sound; for he thought little of plans once formed
+      and half executed; it was the hunt that kept him awake, and he slept like
+      a hound when the prey was down. Not so Templeton, who did not close his
+      eyes all night.&mdash;&ldquo;Yes, yes,&rdquo; thought he, &ldquo;I must get the fortune and
+      the title in one line by a prudent management. Ferrers deserves what I
+      mean to do for him. Steady, good-natured, frank, and will get on&mdash;yes,
+      yes, I see it all. Meanwhile I did well to prevent his standing for C&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;;
+      might pick up gossip about Mrs. T., and other things that might be
+      unpleasant. Ah, I&rsquo;m a shrewd fellow!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0057" id="link2HCH0057">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;<i>Lauzun.</i>&mdash;There, Marquis, there, I&rsquo;ve done it.
+  <i>Montespan.</i>&mdash;Done it! yes! Nice doings!&rdquo;
+         <i>The Duchess de la Valliere</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      LUMLEY hastened to strike while the iron was hot. The next morning he went
+      straight to the Treasury&mdash;saw the managing secretary, a clever, sharp
+      man, who, like Ferrers, carried off intrigue and manoeuvre by a blunt,
+      careless, bluff manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ferrers announced that he was to stand for the free, respectable, open
+      city of C&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;, with an electoral population of 2,500. A
+      very showy place it was for a member in the old ante-reform times, and was
+      considered a thoroughly independent borough. The secretary congratulated
+      and complimented him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have had losses lately in <i>our</i> elections among the larger
+      constituencies,&rdquo; said Lumley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have indeed&mdash;three towns lost in the last six months. Members do
+      die so very unseasonably.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Lord Staunch yet provided for?&rdquo; asked Lumley. Now Lord Staunch was one
+      of the popular show-fight great guns of the administration&mdash;not in
+      office, but that most useful person to all governments, an out-and-out
+      supporter upon the most independent principles&mdash;who was known to have
+      refused place and to value himself on independence&mdash;a man who helped
+      the government over the stile when it was seized with a temporary
+      lameness, and who carried &ldquo;great weight with him in the country.&rdquo; Lord
+      Staunch had foolishly thrown up a close borough in order to contest a
+      large city, and had failed in the attempt. His failure was everywhere
+      cited as a proof of the growing unpopularity of ministers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Lord Staunch yet provided for?&rdquo; asked Lumley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, he must have his old seat&mdash;Three-Oaks. Three-Oaks is a nice,
+      quiet little place; most respectable constituency&mdash;all Staunch&rsquo;s own
+      family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just the thing for him; yet, &lsquo;tis a pity that he did not wait to stand
+      for C&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;; my uncle&rsquo;s interest would have secured him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, I thought so the moment C&mdash;&mdash;&mdash; was vacant. However,
+      it is too late now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would be a great triumph if Lord Staunch could show that a large
+      constituency volunteered to elect him without expense.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Without expense!&mdash;Ah, yes, indeed! It would prove that purity of
+      election still exists&mdash;that British institutions are still upheld.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It might be done, Mr. &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, I thought that you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Were to stand&mdash;that is true&mdash;and it will be difficult to manage
+      my uncle; but he loves me much&mdash;you know I am his heir&mdash;I
+      believe I could do it; that is, if you think it would be <i>a very great
+      advantage</i> to the party, and <i>a very great service</i> to the
+      government.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Mr. Ferrers, it would indeed be both.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And in that case I could have Three-Oaks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see&mdash;exactly so; but to give up so respectable a seat&mdash;really
+      it is a sacrifice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say no more, it shall be done. A deputation shall wait on Lord Staunch
+      directly. I will see my uncle, and a despatch shall be sent down to C&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;
+      to-night; at least, I hope so. I must not be too confident. My uncle is an
+      old man, nobody but myself can manage him; I&rsquo;ll go this instant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may be sure your kindness will be duly appreciated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lumley shook hands cordially with the secretary and retired. The secretary
+      was not &ldquo;humbugged,&rdquo; nor did Lumley expect he should be. But the secretary
+      noted this of Lumley Ferrers (and that gentleman&rsquo;s object was gained),
+      that Lumley Ferrers was a man who looked out for office, and if he did
+      tolerably well in parliament, that Lumley Ferrers was a man who ought to
+      be <i>pushed</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Very shortly afterwards the <i>Gazette</i> announced the election of Lord
+      Staunch for C&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;, after a sharp but decisive contest.
+      The ministerial journals rang with exulting paeans; the opposition ones
+      called the electors of C&mdash;&mdash;&mdash; all manner of hard names,
+      and declared that Mr. Stout, Lord Staunch&rsquo;s opponent, would petition&mdash;which
+      he never did. In the midst of the hubbub, Mr. Lumley Ferrers quietly and
+      unobservedly crept into the representation of Three-Oaks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the night of his election he went to Lord Saxingham&rsquo;s; but what there
+      happened deserves another chapter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0058" id="link2HCH0058">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Je connois des princes du sang, des princes etrangers, des
+  grands seigneurs, des ministres d&rsquo;etat, des magistrats, et
+  des philosophes qui fileroient pour l&rsquo;amour de vous. En
+  pouvez-vous demander davantage?&rdquo; *
+        <i>Lettres de Madame de Sevigne</i>
+</pre>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+* I know princes of the blood, foreign princes, great lords, ministers
+of state, magistrates, and philosophers who would even spin for love of
+you. What can you ask more?
+
+ &ldquo;<i>Lindore.</i> I&mdash;I believe it will choke me. I&rsquo;m in love * * * Now
+hold your tongue. Hold your tongue, I say.
+
+ &ldquo;<i>Dalner.</i> You in love! Ha! ha!
+
+ &ldquo;<i>Lind.</i> There, he laughs.
+
+ &ldquo;<i>Dal.</i> No; I am really sorry for you.&rdquo;
+
+        <i>German Play (False Delicacy)</i>.
+
+   *  *  *  &ldquo;What is here?
+
+            Gold.&rdquo;&mdash;SHAKSPEARE.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      IT happened that that evening Maltravers had, for the first time, accepted
+      one of many invitations with which Lord Saxingham had honoured him. His
+      lordship and Maltravers were of different political parties, nor were they
+      in other respects adapted to each other. Lord Saxingham was a clever man
+      in his way, but worldly even to a proverb among worldly people. That &ldquo;man
+      was born to walk erect and look upon the stars,&rdquo; is an eloquent fallacy
+      that Lord Saxingham might suffice to disprove. He seemed born to walk with
+      a stoop; and if he ever looked upon any stars, they were those which go
+      with a garter. Though of celebrated and historical ancestry, great rank,
+      and some personal reputation, he had all the ambition of a <i>parvenu</i>.
+      He had a strong regard for office, not so much from the sublime affection
+      for that sublime thing,&mdash;power over the destinies of a glorious
+      nation,&mdash;as because it added to that vulgar thing&mdash;importance in
+      his own set. He looked on his cabinet uniform as a beadle looks on his
+      gold lace. He also liked patronage, secured good things to distant
+      connections, got on his family to the remotest degree of relationship; in
+      short, he was of the earth, earthy. He did not comprehend Maltravers; and
+      Maltravers, who every day grew prouder and prouder, despised him. Still,
+      Lord Saxingham was told that Maltravers was a rising man, and he thought
+      it well to be civil to rising men, of whatever party; besides, his vanity
+      was flattered by having men who are talked of in his train. He was too
+      busy and too great a personage to think Maltravers could be other than
+      sincere, when he declared himself, in his notes, &ldquo;very sorry,&rdquo; or &ldquo;much
+      concerned,&rdquo; to forego the honour of dining with Lord Saxingham on the,
+      &amp;c., &amp;c.; and therefore continued his invitations, till
+      Maltravers, from that fatality which undoubtedly regulates and controls
+      us, at last accepted the proffered distinction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He arrived late&mdash;most of the guests were assembled; and, after
+      exchanging a few words with his host, Ernest fell back into the general
+      group, and found himself in the immediate neighbourhood of Lady Florence
+      Lascelles. This lady had never much pleased Maltravers, for he was not
+      fond of masculine or coquettish heroines, and Lady Florence seemed to him
+      to merit both epithets; therefore, though he had met her often since the
+      first day he had been introduced to her, he had usually contented himself
+      with a distant bow or a passing salutation. But now, as he turned round
+      and saw her, she was, for a miracle, sitting alone; and in her most
+      dazzling and noble countenance there was so evident an appearance of ill
+      health, that he was struck and touched by it. In fact, beautiful as she
+      was, both in face and form, there was something in the eye and the bloom
+      of Lady Florence, which a skilful physician would have seen with prophetic
+      pain. And, whenever occasional illness paled the roses of the cheek, and
+      sobered the play of the lips, even an ordinary observer would have thought
+      of the old commonplace proverb&mdash;&ldquo;that the brightest beauty has the
+      briefest life.&rdquo; It was some sentiment of this kind, perhaps, that now
+      awakened the sympathy of Maltravers. He addressed her with more marked
+      courtesy than usual, and took a seat by her side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been to the House, I suppose, Mr. Maltravers?&rdquo; said Lady
+      Florence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, for a short time; it is not one of our field nights&mdash;no
+      division was expected; and by this time, I dare say, the House has been
+      counted out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you like the life?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has excitement,&rdquo; said Maltravers, evasively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the excitement is of a noble character?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Scarcely so, I fear&mdash;it is so made up of mean and malignant motives,&mdash;there
+      is in it so much jealousy of our friends, so much unfairness to our
+      enemies;&mdash;such readiness to attribute to others the basest objects,&mdash;such
+      willingness to avail ourselves of the poorest stratagems! The ends may be
+      great, but the means are very ambiguous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew <i>you</i> would feel this,&rdquo; exclaimed Lady Florence, with a
+      heightened colour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you?&rdquo; said Maltravers, rather interested as well as surprised. &ldquo;I
+      scarcely imagined it possible that you would deign to divine secrets so
+      insignificant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You did not do me justice, then,&rdquo; returned Lady Florence, with an arch
+      yet half-painful smile; &ldquo;for&mdash;but I was about to be impertinent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, say on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For&mdash;then&mdash;I do not imagine you to be one apt to do injustice
+      to yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you consider me presumptuous and arrogant; but that is common report,
+      and you do right, perhaps, to believe it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was there ever any one unconscious of his own merit?&rdquo; asked Lady
+      Florence, proudly. &ldquo;They who distrust themselves have good reason for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You seek to cure the wound you inflicted,&rdquo; returned Maltravers, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; what I said was an apology for myself, as well as for you. You need
+      no words to vindicate you; you are a man, and can bear out all arrogance
+      with the royal motto <i>Dieu et mon droit</i>. With you deeds can support
+      pretension; but I am a woman&mdash;it was a mistake of Nature.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what triumphs that man can achieve bring so immediate, so palpable a
+      reward as those won by a woman, beautiful and admired&mdash;who finds
+      every room an empire, and every class her subjects?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a despicable realm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&mdash;to command&mdash;to win&mdash;to bow to your worship&mdash;the
+      greatest, and the highest, and the sternest; to own slaves in those whom
+      men recognise as their lords! Is such a power despicable? If so, what
+      power is to be envied?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Florence turned quickly round to Maltravers, and fixed on him her
+      large dark eyes, as if she would read into his very heart. She turned away
+      with a blush and a slight frown&mdash;&ldquo;There is mockery on your lip,&rdquo; said
+      she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before Maltravers could answer, dinner was announced, and a foreign
+      ambassador claimed the hand of Lady Florence. Maltravers saw a young lady
+      with gold oats in her very light hair, fall to his lot, and descended to
+      the dining-room, thinking more of Lady Florence Lascelles than he had ever
+      done before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He happened to sit nearly opposite to the young mistress of the house
+      (Lord Saxingham, as the reader knows, was a widower and Lady Florence an
+      only child); and Maltravers was that day in one of those felicitous moods
+      in which our animal spirits search and carry up, as it were, to the
+      surface, our intellectual gifts and acquisitions. He conversed generally
+      and happily; but once, when he turned his eyes to appeal to Lady Florence
+      for her opinion on some point in discussion, he caught her gaze fixed upon
+      him with an expression that checked the current of his gaiety, and cast
+      him into a curious and bewildered reverie. In that gaze there was earnest
+      and cordial admiration; but it was mixed with so much mournfulness, that
+      the admiration lost its eloquence, and he who noticed it was rather
+      saddened than flattered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After dinner, when Maltravers sought the drawing-rooms, he found them
+      filled with the customary snob of good society. In one corner he
+      discovered Castruccio Cesarini, playing on a guitar, slung across his
+      breast with a blue riband. The Italian sang well; many young ladies were
+      grouped round him, amongst others Florence Lascelles. Maltravers, fond as
+      he was of music, looked upon Castruccio&rsquo;s performance as a disagreeable
+      exhibition. He had a Quixotic idea of the dignity of talent; and though
+      himself of a musical science, and a melody of voice that would have thrown
+      the room into ecstasies, he would as soon have turned juggler or tumbler
+      for polite amusement, as contend for the bravos of a drawing-room. It was
+      because he was one of the proudest men in the world, that Maltravers was
+      one of the least <i>vain</i>. He did not care a rush for applause in small
+      things. But Cesarini would have summoned the whole world to see him play
+      at push-pin, if he thought the played it well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Beautiful! divine! charming!&rdquo; cried the young ladies, as Cesarini ceased;
+      and Maltravers observed that Florence praised more earnestly than the
+      rest, and that Cesarini&rsquo;s dark eye sparkled, and his pale cheek flushed
+      with unwonted brilliancy. Florence turned to Maltravers, and the Italian,
+      following her eyes, frowned darkly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know the Signor Cesarini,&rdquo; said Florence, joining Maltravers. &ldquo;He is
+      an interesting and gifted person.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unquestionably. I grieve to see him wasting his talents upon a soil that
+      may yield a few short-lived flowers, without one useful plant or
+      productive fruit.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He enjoys the passing hour, Mr. Maltravers; and sometimes, when I see the
+      mortifications that await sterner labour, I think he is right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; said Maltravers; &ldquo;his eyes are on us&mdash;he is listening
+      breathlessly for every word you utter. I fear that you have made an
+      unconscious conquest of a poet&rsquo;s heart; and if so, he purchases the
+      enjoyment of the passing hour at a fearful price.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; said Lady Florence, indifferently, &ldquo;he is one of those to whom the
+      fancy supplies the place of the heart. And if I give him an inspiration,
+      it will be an equal luxury to him whether his lyre be strung to hope or
+      disappointment. The sweetness of his verses will compensate to him for any
+      bitterness in actual life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are two kinds of love,&rdquo; answered Maltravers,&mdash;&ldquo;love and
+      self-love; the wounds of the last are often most incurable in those who
+      appear least vulnerable to the first. Ah, Lady Florence, were I privileged
+      to play the monitor, I would venture on one warning, however much it might
+      offend you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that is&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To forbear coquetry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers smiled as he spoke, but it was gravely&mdash;and at the same
+      time he moved gently away. But Lady Florence laid her hand on his arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Maltravers,&rdquo; said she, very softly, and with a kind of faltering in
+      her tone, &ldquo;am I wrong to say that I am anxious for your good opinion? Do
+      not judge me harshly. I am soured, discontented, unhappy. I have no
+      sympathy with the world. These men whom I see around me&mdash;what are
+      they? the mass of them unfeeling and silken egotists&mdash;ill-judging,
+      ill-educated, well-dressed: the few who are called distinguished&mdash;how
+      selfish in their ambition, how passionless in their pursuits! Am I to be
+      blamed if I sometimes exert a power over such as these, which rather
+      proves my scorn of them than my own vanity?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no right to argue with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, argue with me, convince me, guide me&mdash;Heaven knows that,
+      impetuous and haughty as I am, I need a guide,&rdquo;&mdash;and Lady Florence&rsquo;s
+      eyes swam with tears. Ernest&rsquo;s prejudices against her were greatly shaken:
+      he was even somewhat dazzled by her beauty, and touched by her unexpected
+      gentleness; but still, his heart was not assailed, and he replied almost
+      coldly, after a short pause:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear Lady Florence, look round the world&mdash;who so much to be envied
+      as yourself? What sources of happiness and pride are open to you! Why,
+      then, make to yourself causes of discontent?&mdash;why be scornful of
+      those who cross not your path? Why not look with charity upon God&rsquo;s less
+      endowed children, beneath you as they may seem? What consolation have you
+      in hurting the hearts or the vanities of others? Do you raise yourself
+      even in your own estimation? You affect to be above your sex&mdash;yet
+      what character do you despise more in women than that which you assume?
+      Semiramis should not be a coquette. There now, I have offended you&mdash;I
+      confess I am very rude.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not offended,&rdquo; said Florence, almost struggling with her tears; and
+      she added inly, &ldquo;Ah, I am too happy!&rdquo;&mdash;There are some lips from which
+      even the proudest women love to hear the censure which appears to disprove
+      indifference.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was at this time that Lumley Ferrers, flushed with the success of his
+      schemes and projects, entered the room; and his quick eye fell upon that
+      corner, in which he detected what appeared to him a very alarming
+      flirtation between his rich cousin and Ernest Maltravers. He advanced to
+      the spot, and, with his customary frankness, extended a hand to each.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, my dear and fair cousin, give me your congratulations, and ask me for
+      my first frank, to be bound up in a collection of autographs by
+      distinguished senators&mdash;it will sell high one of these days. Your
+      most obedient, Mr. Maltravers;&mdash;how we shall laugh in our sleeves at
+      the humbug of politics, when you and I, the best friends in the world, sit
+      <i>vis-a-vis</i> on opposite benches. But why, Lady Florence, have you
+      never introduced me to your pet Italian? <i>Allons</i>! I am his match in
+      Alfieri, whom, of course, he swears by, and whose verses, by the way, seem
+      cut out of box-wood&mdash;the hardest material for turning off that sort
+      of machinery that invention ever hit on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus saying, Ferrers contrived, as he thought, very cleverly, to divide a
+      pair that he much feared were justly formed to meet by nature&mdash;and,
+      to his great joy, Maltravers shortly afterwards withdrew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ferrers, with the happy ease that belonged to his complacent, though
+      plotting character, soon made Cesarini at home with him; and two or three
+      slighting expressions which the former dropped with respect to Maltravers,
+      coupled with some outrageous compliments to the Italian, completely won
+      the heart of the poet. The brilliant Florence was more silent and subdued
+      than usual; and her voice was softer, though graver, when she replied to
+      Castruccio&rsquo;s eloquent appeals. Castruccio was one of those men who <i>talk
+      fine</i>. By degrees, Lumley lapsed into silence, and listened to what
+      took place between Lady Florence and the Italian, while appearing to be
+      deep in &ldquo;The Views of the Rhine,&rdquo; which lay on the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said the latter, in his soft native tongue, &ldquo;could you know how I
+      watch every shade of that countenance which makes my heaven! Is it
+      clouded? night is with me!&mdash;is it radiant? I am as the Persian gazing
+      on the sun!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you speak thus to me? were you not a poet, I might be angry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were not angry when the English poet, that cold Maltravers, spoke to
+      you perhaps as boldly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Florence drew up her haughty head. &ldquo;Signor,&rdquo; said she, checking,
+      however, her first impulse, and with mildness, &ldquo;Mr. Maltravers neither
+      flatters nor&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Presumes, you were about to say,&rdquo; said Cesarini, grinding his teeth. &ldquo;But
+      it is well&mdash;once you were less chilling to the utterance of my deep
+      devotion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never, Signor Cesarini, never&mdash;but when I thought it was but the
+      common gallantry of your nation: let me think so still.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, proud woman,&rdquo; said Cesarini, fiercely, &ldquo;no&mdash;hear the truth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Florence rose indignantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hear me,&rdquo; he continued. &ldquo;I&mdash;I, the poor foreigner, the despised
+      minstrel, dare to lift up my eyes to you! I love you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Never had Florence Lascelles been so humiliated and confounded. However
+      she might have amused herself with the vanity of Cesarini, she had not
+      given him, as she thought, the warrant to address her&mdash;the great Lady
+      Florence, the prize of dukes and princes&mdash;in this hardy manner; she
+      almost fancied him insane. But the next moment she recalled the warning of
+      Maltravers, and felt as if her punishment had commenced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will think and speak more calmly, sir, when we meet again,&rdquo; and so
+      saying, she swept away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Cesarini remained rooted to the spot, with his dark countenance expressing
+      such passions as are rarely seen in the aspects of civilised men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where do you lodge, Signor Cesarini?&rdquo; asked the bland, familiar voice of
+      Ferrers. &ldquo;Let us walk part of the way together&mdash;that is, when you are
+      tired of these hot rooms.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cesarini groaned. &ldquo;You are ill,&rdquo; continued Ferrers; &ldquo;the air will revive
+      you&mdash;come.&rdquo; He glided from the room, and the Italian mechanically
+      followed him. They walked together for some moments in silence, side by
+      side, in a clear, lovely, moonlight night. At length Ferrers said, &ldquo;Pardon
+      me, my dear signor, but you may already have observed that I am a very
+      frank, odd sort of fellow. I see you are caught by the charms of my cruel
+      cousin. Can I serve you in any way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A man at all acquainted with the world in which we live would have been
+      suspicious of such cordiality in the cousin of an heiress, towards a very
+      unsuitable aspirant. But Cesarini, like many indifferent poets (but like
+      few good ones), had no common sense. He thought it quite natural that a
+      man who admired his poetry so much as Lumley had declared he did, should
+      take a lively interest in his welfare; and he therefore replied warmly,
+      &ldquo;Oh, sir, this is indeed a crushing blow: I dreamed she loved me. She was
+      ever flattering and gentle when she spoke to me, and in verse already I
+      had told her of my love, and met with no rebuke.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did your verses really and plainly declare love, and in your own person?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, the sentiment was veiled, perhaps&mdash;put into the mouth of a
+      fictitious character, or conveyed in an allegory.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; ejaculated Ferrers, thinking it very likely that the gorgeous
+      Florence, hymned by a thousand bards, had done little more than cast a
+      glance over the lines that had cost poor Cesarini such anxious toil, and
+      inspired him with such daring hope. &ldquo;Oh!&mdash;and to-night she was more
+      severe&mdash;she is a terrible coquette, <i>la belle Florence</i>! But
+      perhaps you have a rival.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I feel it&mdash;I saw it&mdash;I know it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whom do you suspect?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That accursed Maltravers! He crosses me in every path&mdash;my spirit
+      quails beneath his whenever we encounter. I read my doom.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If it be Maltravers,&rdquo; said Ferrers, gravely, &ldquo;the danger cannot be great.
+      Florence has seen but little of him, and he does not admire her much; but
+      she is a great match, and he is ambitious. We must guard against this
+      betimes, Cesarini&mdash;for know that I dislike Maltravers as much as you
+      do, and will cheerfully aid you in any plan to blight his hopes in that
+      quarter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Generous, noble friend!&mdash;yet he is richer, better-born than I.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That may be: but to one in Lady Florence&rsquo;s position, all minor grades of
+      rank in her aspirants seem pretty well levelled. Come, I don&rsquo;t tell you
+      that I would not sooner she married a countryman and an equal&mdash;but I
+      have taken a liking to you, and I detest Maltravers. She is very romantic&mdash;fond
+      of poetry to a passion&mdash;writes it herself, I fancy. Oh, you&rsquo;ll just
+      suit her; but, alas! how will you see her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See her! What mean you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, have you not declared love to-night? I thought I overheard you. Can
+      you for a moment fancy that, after such an avowal, Lady Florence will
+      again receive you&mdash;that is, if she mean to reject your suit?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fool that I was! But no&mdash;she must, she shall.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be persuaded; in this country violence will not do. Take my advice, write
+      an humble apology, confess your fault, invoke her pity; and, declaring
+      that you renounce for ever the character of a lover, implore still to be
+      acknowledged as a friend. Be quiet now, hear me out; I am older than you;
+      I know my cousin; this will pique her; your modesty will soothe, while
+      your coldness will arouse, her vanity. Meanwhile you will watch the
+      progress of Maltravers; I will be by your elbow; and between us, to use a
+      homely phrase, we will do for him. Then you may have your opportunity,
+      clear stage, and fair play.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cesarini was at first rebellious; but, at length, even he saw the policy
+      of the advice. But Lumley would not leave him till the advice was adopted.
+      He made Castruccio accompany him to a club, dictated the letter to
+      Florence, and undertook its charge. This was not all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is also necessary,&rdquo; said Lumley, after a short but thoughtful silence,
+      &ldquo;that you should write to Maltravers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And for what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have my reasons. Ask him, in a frank and friendly spirit, his opinion
+      of Lady Florence; state your belief that she loves you, and inquire
+      ingenuously what he thinks your chances of happiness in such a union.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His answer may be useful,&rdquo; returned Lumley, musingly. &ldquo;Stay, I will
+      dictate the letter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cesarini wondered and hesitated, but there was that about Lumley Ferrers
+      which had already obtained command over the weak and passionate poet. He
+      wrote, therefore, as Lumley dictated, beginning with some commonplace
+      doubts as to the happiness of marriage in general, excusing himself for
+      his recent coldness towards Maltravers, and asking him his confidential
+      opinion both as to Lady Florence&rsquo;s character and his own chances of
+      success.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This letter, like the former one, Lumley sealed and despatched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You perceive,&rdquo; he then said, briefly, to Cesarini, &ldquo;that it is the object
+      of this letter to entrap Maltravers into some plain and honest avowal of
+      his dislike to Lady Florence; we may make good use of such expressions
+      hereafter, if he should ever prove a rival. And now go home to rest: you
+      look exhausted. Adieu, my new friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have long had a presentiment,&rdquo; said Lumley to his councillor SELF, as
+      he walked to Great George Street, &ldquo;that that wild girl has conceived a
+      romantic fancy for Maltravers. But I can easily prevent such an accident
+      ripening into misfortune. Meanwhile, I have secured a tool, if I want one.
+      By Jove, what an ass that poet is! But so was Cassio; yet Iago made use of
+      him. If Iago had been born now, and dropped that foolish fancy for
+      revenge, what a glorious fellow he would have been! Prime minister at
+      least!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Pale, haggard, exhausted, Castruccio Cesarini, traversing a length of way,
+      arrived at last at a miserable lodging in the suburb of Chelsea. His
+      fortune was now gone; gone in supplying the poorest food to a craving and
+      imbecile vanity: gone, that its owner might seem what nature never meant
+      him for: the elegant Lothario, the graceful man of pleasure, the
+      troubadour of modern life! gone in horses, and jewels, and fine clothes,
+      and gaming, and printing unsaleable poems on gilt-edged vellum; gone, that
+      he might not be a greater but a more fashionable man than Ernest
+      Maltravers! Such is the common destiny of those poor adventurers who
+      confine fame to boudoirs and saloons. No matter whether they be poets or
+      dandies, wealthy <i>parvenus</i> or aristocratic cadets, all equally prove
+      the adage that the wrong paths to reputation are strewed with the wrecks
+      of peace, fortune, happiness, and too often honour! And yet this poor
+      young man had dared to hope for the hand of Florence Lascelles! He had the
+      common notion of foreigners, that English girls marry for love, are very
+      romantic; that, within the three seas, heiresses are as plentiful as
+      blackberries; and for the rest, his vanity had been so pampered, that it
+      now insinuated itself into every fibre of his intellectual and moral
+      system.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Cesarini looked cautiously round, as he arrived at his door; for he
+      fancied that, even in that obscure place, persons might be anxious to
+      catch a glimpse of the celebrated poet; and he concealed his residence
+      from all; dined on a roll when he did not dine out, and left his address
+      at &ldquo;The Travellers.&rdquo; He looked round, I say, and he did observe a tall
+      figure wrapped in a cloak that had indeed followed him from a distant and
+      more populous part of the town. But the figure turned round, and vanished
+      instantly. Cesarini mounted to his second floor. And about the middle of
+      the next day a messenger left a letter at his door, containing one hundred
+      pounds in a blank envelope. Cesarini knew not the writing of the address;
+      his pride was deeply wounded. Amidst all his penury, he had not even
+      applied to his own sister. Could it come from her, from De Montaigne? He
+      was lost in conjecture. He put the remittance aside for a few days; for he
+      had something fine in him, the poor poet! but bills grew pressing, and
+      necessity hath no law.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Two days afterwards, Cesarini brought to Ferrers the answer he had
+      received from Maltravers. Lumley had rightly foreseen that the high spirit
+      of Ernest would conceive some indignation at the coquetry of Florence in
+      beguiling the Italian into hopes never to be realised, and that he would
+      express himself openly and warmly. He did so, however, with more
+      gentleness than Lumley had anticipated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is not exactly the thing,&rdquo; said Ferrers, after twice reading the
+      letter; &ldquo;still it may hereafter be a strong card in our hands&mdash;we
+      will keep it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So saying, he locked the letter up in his desk, and Cesarini soon forgot
+      its existence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0059" id="link2HCH0059">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;She was a phantom of delight,
+  When first she gleamed upon my sight:
+  A lovely apparition sent
+  To be a moment&rsquo;s ornament.&rdquo;&mdash;WORDSWORTH.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      MALTRAVERS did not see Lady Florence again for some weeks; meanwhile,
+      Lumley Ferrers made his <i>debut</i> in parliament. Rigidly adhering to
+      his plan of acting on a deliberate system, and not prone to overrate
+      himself, Mr. Ferrers did not, like most promising new members, try the
+      hazardous ordeal of a great first speech. Though bold, fluent, and ready,
+      he was not eloquent; and he knew that on great occasions, when great
+      speeches are wanted, great guns like to have the fire to themselves.
+      Neither did he split upon the opposite rock of &ldquo;promising young men,&rdquo; who
+      stick to &ldquo;the business of the house&rdquo; like leeches, and quibble on details;
+      in return for which labour they are generally voted bores, who can never
+      do anything remarkable. But he spoke frequently, shortly, courageously,
+      and with a strong dash of good-humoured personality. He was the man whom a
+      minister could get to say something which other people did not like to
+      say: and he did so with a frank fearlessness that carried off any seeming
+      violation of good taste. He soon became a very popular speaker in the
+      parliamentary clique; especially with the gentlemen who crowd the bar, and
+      never want to hear the argument of the debate. Between him and Maltravers
+      a visible coldness now existed; for the latter looked upon his old friend
+      (whose principles of logic led him even to republicanism, and who had been
+      accustomed to accuse Ernest of temporising with plain truths, if he
+      demurred to their application to artificial states of society) as a
+      cold-blooded and hypocritical adventurer; while Ferrers, seeing that
+      Ernest could now be of no further use to him, was willing enough to drop a
+      profitless intimacy. Nay, he thought it would be wise to pick a quarrel
+      with him, if possible, as the best means of banishing a supposed rival
+      from the house of his noble relation, Lord Saxingham. But no opportunity
+      for that step presented itself; so Lumley kept a fit of convenient
+      rudeness, or an impromptu sarcasm, in reserve, if ever it should be
+      wanted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The season and the session were alike drawing to a close, when Maltravers
+      received a pressing invitation from Cleveland to spend a week at his
+      villa, which he assured Ernest would be full of agreeable people; and as
+      all business productive of debate or division was over, Maltravers was
+      glad to obtain fresh air, and a change of scene. Accordingly, he sent down
+      his luggage and favourite books, and one afternoon in early August rode
+      alone towards Temple Grove. He was much dissatisfied, perhaps
+      disappointed, with his experience of public life; and with his
+      high-wrought and over-refining views of the deficiencies of others more
+      prominent, he was in a humour to mingle also censure of himself, for
+      having yielded too much to the doubts and scruples that often, in the
+      early part of their career, beset the honest and sincere, in the turbulent
+      whirl of politics, and ever tend to make the robust hues that should
+      belong to action
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   &ldquo;Sicklied o&rsquo;er with the pale cast of thought.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      His mind was working its way slowly towards those conclusions, which
+      sometimes ripen the best practical men out of the most exalted theorists,
+      and perhaps he saw before him the pleasing prospect flatteringly exhibited
+      to another, when he complained of being too honest for party, viz., &ldquo;of
+      becoming a very pretty rascal in time!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For several weeks he had not heard from his unknown correspondent, and the
+      time was come when he missed those letters, now continued for more than
+      two years; and which, in their eloquent mixture of complaint, exhortation,
+      despondent gloom and declamatory enthusiasm, had often soothed him in
+      dejection, and made him more sensible of triumph. While revolving in his
+      mind thoughts connected with these subjects&mdash;and, somehow or other,
+      with his more ambitious reveries were always mingled musings of curiosity
+      respecting his correspondent&mdash;he was struck by the beauty of a little
+      girl, of about eleven years old, who was walking with a female attendant
+      on the footpath that skirted the road. I said that he was struck by her
+      beauty, but that is a wrong expression; it was rather the charm of her
+      countenance than the perfection of her features which arrested the gaze of
+      Maltravers&mdash;a charm that might not have existed for others, but was
+      inexpressibly attractive to him, and was so much apart from the vulgar
+      fascination of mere beauty, that it would have equally touched a chord at
+      his heart, if coupled with homely features or a bloomless cheek. This
+      charm was in a wonderful innocent and dove-like softness of expression. We
+      all form to ourselves some <i>beau-ideal</i> of the &ldquo;fair spirit&rdquo; we
+      desire as our earthly &ldquo;minister,&rdquo; and somewhat capriciously gauge and
+      proportion our admiration of living shapes according as the <i>beau-ideal</i>
+      is more or less embodied or approached. Beauty, of a stamp that is not
+      familiar to the dreams of our fancy, may win the cold homage of our
+      judgment, while a look, a feature, a something that realises and calls up
+      a boyish vision, and assimilates even distantly to the picture we wear
+      within us, has a loveliness peculiar to our eyes, and kindles an emotion
+      that almost seems to belong to memory. It is this which the Platonists
+      felt when they wildly supposed that souls attracted to each other on earth
+      had been united in an earlier being and a diviner sphere; and there was in
+      the young face on which Ernest gazed precisely this ineffable harmony with
+      his preconceived notions of the beautiful. Many a nightly and noonday
+      reverie was realised in those mild yet smiling eyes of the darkest blue;
+      in that ingenuous breadth of brow, with its slightly-pencilled arches, and
+      the nose, not cut in that sharp and clear symmetry which looks so lovely
+      in marble, but usually gives to flesh and blood a decided and hard
+      character, that better becomes the sterner than the gentler sex&mdash;no;
+      not moulded in the pure Grecian, nor in the pure Roman, cast; but small,
+      delicate, with the least possible inclination to turn upward, that was
+      only to be detected in one position of the head, and served to give a
+      prettier archness to the sweet flexile lips, which, from the gentleness of
+      their repose, seemed to smile unconsciously, but rather from a happy
+      constitutional serenity than from the giddiness of mirth. Such was the
+      character of this fair child&rsquo;s countenance, on which Maltravers turned and
+      gazed involuntarily and reverently, with something of the admiring delight
+      with which we look upon the Virgin of a Rafaele, or the sunset landscape
+      of a Claude. The girl did not appear to feel any premature coquetry at the
+      evident, though respectful admiration she excited. She met the eyes bent
+      upon her, brilliant and eloquent as they were, with a fearless and
+      unsuspecting gaze, and pointed out to her companion, with all a child&rsquo;s
+      quick and unrestrained impulse, the shining and raven gloss, the arched
+      and haughty neck, of Ernest&rsquo;s beautiful Arabian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now there happened between Maltravers and the young object of his
+      admiration a little adventure, which served, perhaps, to fix in her
+      recollection this short encounter with a stranger; for certain it is that,
+      years after, she did remember both the circumstances of the adventure and
+      the features of Maltravers. She wore one of those large straw-hats which
+      look so pretty upon children, and the warmth of the day made her untie the
+      strings which confined it. A gentle breeze arose, as by a turn in the road
+      the country became more open, and suddenly wafted the hat from its proper
+      post, almost to the hoofs of Ernest&rsquo;s horse. The child naturally made a
+      spring forward to arrest the deserter, and her foot slipped down the bank,
+      which was rather steeply raised above the road. She uttered a low cry of
+      pain. To dismount&mdash;to regain the prize&mdash;and to restore it to its
+      owner, was, with Ernest, the work of a moment; the poor girl had twisted
+      her ankle and was leaning upon her servant for support. But when she saw
+      the anxiety, and almost the alarm, upon the stranger&rsquo;s face (and her
+      exclamation of pain had literally thrilled his heart&mdash;so much and so
+      unaccountably had she excited his interest), she made an effort at
+      self-control, not common at her years, and, with a forced smile, assured
+      him she was not much hurt&mdash;that it was nothing&mdash;that she was
+      just at home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, miss!&rdquo; said the servant, &ldquo;I am sure you are very bad. Dear heart, how
+      angry master will be! It was not my fault; was it, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, it was not your fault, Margaret; don&rsquo;t be frightened&mdash;papa
+      sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t blame you. But I&rsquo;m much better now.&rdquo; So saying, she tried to walk;
+      but the effort was in vain&mdash;she turned yet more pale, and though she
+      struggled to prevent a shriek, the tears rolled down her cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was very odd, but Maltravers had never felt more touched&mdash;the
+      tears stood in his own eyes; he longed to carry her in his arms, but,
+      child as she was, a strange kind of nervous timidity forbade him.
+      Margaret, perhaps, expected it of him, for she looked hard in his face,
+      before she attempted a burthen to which, being a small, slight person, she
+      was by no means equal. However, after a pause, she took up her charge,
+      who, ashamed of her tears, and almost overcome with pain, nestled her head
+      in the woman&rsquo;s bosom, and Maltravers walked by her side, while his docile
+      and well-trained horse followed at a distance, every now and then putting
+      its fore-legs on the bank and cropping away a mouthful of leaves from the
+      hedge-row.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Margaret!&rdquo; said the little sufferer, &ldquo;I cannot bear it&mdash;indeed I
+      cannot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Maltravers observed that Margaret had permitted the lame foot to hang
+      down unsupported, so that the pain must indeed have been scarcely
+      bearable. He could restrain himself no longer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not strong enough to carry her,&rdquo; said he, sharply, to the
+      servant; and the next moment the child was in his arms. Oh, with what
+      anxious tenderness he bore her! and he was so happy when she turned her
+      face to him and smiled, and told him she now scarcely felt the pain. If it
+      were possible to be in love with a child of eleven years old, Maltravers
+      was almost in love. His pulses trembled as he felt her pure breath on his
+      cheek, and her rich beautiful hair was waved by the breeze across his
+      lips. He hushed his voice to a whisper as he poured forth all the soothing
+      and comforting expressions which give a natural eloquence to persons fond
+      of children&mdash;and Ernest Maltravers was the idol of children;&mdash;he
+      understood and sympathised with them; he had a great deal of the child
+      himself, beneath the rough and cold husk of his proud reserve. At length
+      they came to a lodge, and Margaret eagerly inquiring &ldquo;whether master and
+      missus were at home,&rdquo; seemed delighted to hear they were not. Ernest,
+      however, insisted on bearing his charge across the lawn to the house,
+      which, like most suburban villas, was but a stone&rsquo;s throw from the lodge;
+      and, receiving the most positive promise that surgical advice should be
+      immediately sent for, he was forced to content himself with laying the
+      sufferer on a sofa in the drawing-room; and she thanked him so prettily,
+      and assured him she was so much easier, that he would have given the world
+      to kiss her. The child had completed her conquest over him by being above
+      the child&rsquo;s ordinary littleness of making the worst of things, in order to
+      obtain the consequence and dignity of being pitied;&mdash;she was
+      evidently unselfish and considerate for others. He did kiss her, but it
+      was the hand that he kissed, and no cavalier ever kissed his lady&rsquo;s hand
+      with more respect; and then, for the first time, the child blushed&mdash;then,
+      for the first time, she felt as if the day would come when she should be a
+      child no longer! Why was this?&mdash;perhaps because it is an era in life&mdash;the
+      first sign of a tenderness that inspires respect, not familiarity!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If ever again I could be in love,&rdquo; said Maltravers, as he spurred on his
+      road, &ldquo;I really think it would be with that exquisite child. My feeling is
+      more like that of love at first sight than any emotion which beauty ever
+      caused in me. Alice&mdash;Valerie&mdash;no; the <i>first</i> sight of them
+      did not:&mdash;but what folly is this&mdash;a child of eleven&mdash;and I
+      verging upon thirty!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Still, however, folly as it might be, the image of that young girl haunted
+      Maltravers for many days; till change of scene, the distractions of
+      society, the grave thoughts of manhood, and, above all, a series of
+      exciting circumstances about to be narrated, gradually obliterated a
+      strange and most delightful impression. He had learned, however, that Mr.
+      Templeton was the proprietor of the villa, which was the child&rsquo;s home. He
+      wrote to Ferrers to narrate the incident, and to inquire after the
+      sufferer. In due time he heard from that gentleman that the child was
+      recovered, and gone with Mr. and Mrs. Templeton to Brighton, for change of
+      air and sea-bathing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0070" id="link2H_4_0070">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      BOOK VIII.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ Whither come Wisdom&rsquo;s queen
+ And the snare-weaving Love?
+     EURIP. <i>Iphig. in Aul.</i> I. 1310.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0060" id="link2HCH0060">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Notitiam primosque gradus vicinia fecit.&rdquo; *&mdash;OVID.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      * Neighbourhood caused the acquaintance and first introduction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      CLEVELAND&rsquo;S villa <i>was</i> full, and of persons usually called
+      agreeable. Amongst the rest was Lady Florence Lascelles. The wise old man
+      had ever counselled Maltravers not to marry too young; but neither did he
+      wish him to put off that momentous epoch of life till all the bloom of
+      heart and emotion was passed away. He thought, with the old lawgivers,
+      that thirty was the happy age for forming a connection, in the choice of
+      which, with the reason of manhood, ought, perhaps, to be blended the
+      passion of youth. And he saw that few men were more capable than
+      Maltravers of the true enjoyments of domestic life. He had long thought,
+      also, that none were more calculated to sympathise with Ernest&rsquo;s views,
+      and appreciate his peculiar character, than the gifted and brilliant
+      Florence Lascelles. Cleveland looked with toleration on her many
+      eccentricities of thought and conduct,&mdash;eccentricities which he
+      imagined would rapidly melt away beneath the influence of that attachment
+      which usually operates so great a change in women; and, where it is
+      strongly and intensely felt, moulds even those of the most obstinate
+      character into compliance or similitude with the sentiments or habits of
+      its object.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stately self-control of Maltravers was, he conceived, precisely that
+      quality that gives to men an unconscious command over the very thoughts of
+      the woman whose affection they win: while, on the other hand, he hoped
+      that the fancy and enthusiasm of Florence would tend to render sharper and
+      more practical an ambition, which seemed to the sober man of the world too
+      apt to refine upon the means, and to <i>cui bono</i> the objects of
+      worldly distinction. Besides, Cleveland was one who thoroughly appreciated
+      the advantages of wealth and station; and the rank and the dower of
+      Florence were such as would force Maltravers into a position in social
+      life, which could not fail to make new exactions upon talents which
+      Cleveland fancied were precisely those adapted rather to command than to
+      serve. In Ferrers he recognised a man to <i>get</i> into power&mdash;in
+      Maltravers one by whom power, if ever attained, would be wielded with
+      dignity, and exerted for great uses. Something, therefore, higher than
+      mere covetousness for the vulgar interests of Maltravers made Cleveland
+      desire to secure to him the heart and hand of the great heiress; and he
+      fancied that, whatever might be the obstacle, it would not be in the will
+      of Lady Florence herself. He prudently resolved, however, to leave matters
+      to their natural course. He hinted nothing to one party or the other. No
+      place for falling in love like a large country house, and no time for it,
+      amongst the indolent well-born, like the close of a London season, when,
+      jaded by small cares, and sickened of hollow intimacies, even the coldest
+      may well yearn for the tones of affection&mdash;the excitement of an
+      honest emotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Somehow or other it happened that Florence and Ernest, after the first day
+      or two, were constantly thrown together. She rode on horseback, and
+      Maltravers was by her side&mdash;they made excursions on the river, and
+      they sat on the same bench in the gliding pleasure-boat. In the evenings,
+      the younger guests, with the assistance of the neighbouring families,
+      often got up a dance in a temporary pavilion built out of the dining-room.
+      Ernest never danced. Florence did at first. But once, as she was
+      conversing with Maltravers, when a gay guardsman came to claim her
+      promised hand in the waltz, she seemed struck by a grave change in
+      Ernest&rsquo;s face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you never waltz?&rdquo; she asked, while the guardsman was searching for a
+      corner wherein safely to deposit his hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;yet there is no impropriety in <i>my</i> waltzing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you mean that there is in mine?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me&mdash;I did not say so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you think it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay, on consideration, I am glad, perhaps, that you do waltz.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are mysterious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well then, I mean, that you are precisely the woman I would never fall in
+      love with. And I feel the danger is lessened, when I see you destroy any
+      one of my illusions, or, I ought to say, attack any one of my prejudices.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Florence coloured; but the guardsman and the music left her no time
+      for reply. However, after that night she waltzed no more. She was unwell&mdash;she
+      declared she was ordered not to dance, and so quadrilles were relinquished
+      as well as the waltz.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers could not but be touched and flattered by this regard for his
+      opinion; but Florence contrived to testify it so as to forbid
+      acknowledgment, since another motive had been found for it. The second
+      evening after that commemorated by Ernest&rsquo;s candid rudeness, they chanced
+      to meet in the conservatory, which was connected with the ball-room; and
+      Ernest, pausing to inquire after her health, was struck by the listless
+      and dejected sadness which spoke in her tone and countenance as she
+      replied to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear Lady Florence,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I fear you are worse than you will
+      confess. You should shun these draughts. You owe it to your friends to be
+      more careful of yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Friends!&rdquo; said Lady Florence, bitterly&mdash;&ldquo;I have no friends!&mdash;even
+      my poor father would not absent himself from a cabinet dinner a week after
+      I was dead. But that is the condition of public life&mdash;its hot and
+      searing blaze puts out the lights of all lesser but not unholier
+      affections.&mdash;Friends! Fate, that made Florence Lascelles the envied
+      heiress, denied her brothers, sisters; and the hour of her birth lost her
+      even the love of a mother! Friends! where shall I find them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As she ceased, she turned to the open casement, and stepped out into the
+      verandah, and by the trembling of her voice Ernest felt that she had done
+      so to hide or to suppress her tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet,&rdquo; said he, following her, &ldquo;there is one class of more distant
+      friends, whose interest Lady Florence Lascelles cannot fail to secure,
+      however she may disdain it. Among the humblest of that class, suffer me to
+      rank myself. Come, I assume the privilege of advice&mdash;the night air is
+      a luxury you must not indulge.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, it refreshes me&mdash;it soothes. You misunderstand me, I have no
+      illness that still skies and sleeping flowers can increase.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers, as is evident, was not in love with Florence, but he could not
+      fail, brought, as he had lately been, under the direct influence of her
+      rare and prodigal gifts, mental and personal, to feel for her a strong and
+      even affectionate interest&mdash;the very frankness with which he was
+      accustomed to speak to her, and the many links of communion there
+      necessarily were between himself and a mind so naturally powerful and so
+      richly cultivated, had already established their acquaintance upon an
+      intimate footing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot restrain you, Lady Florence,&rdquo; said he, half smiling, &ldquo;but my
+      conscience will not let me be an accomplice. I will turn king&rsquo;s evidence,
+      and hunt out Lord Saxingham to send him to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Florence, whose face was averted from his, did not appear to hear
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you, Mr. Maltravers,&rdquo; turning quickly round&mdash;&ldquo;you&mdash;have you
+      friends? Do you feel that there are, I do not say public, but private
+      affections and duties, for which life is made less a possession than a
+      trust?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lady Florence&mdash;no!&mdash;I have friends, it is true, and Cleveland
+      is of the nearest; but the life within life&mdash;the second self, in whom
+      we vest the right and mastery over our own being&mdash;I know it not. But
+      is it,&rdquo; he added, after a pause, &ldquo;a rare privation? Perhaps it is a happy
+      one. I have learned to lean on my own soul, and not look elsewhere for the
+      reeds that a wind can break.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, it is a cold philosophy&mdash;you may reconcile yourself to its
+      wisdom in the world, in the hum and shock of men; but in solitude, with
+      Nature&mdash;ah, no! While the mind alone is occupied, you may be
+      contented with the pride of stoicism; but there are moments when the <i>heart</i>
+      wakens as from a sleep&mdash;wakens like a frightened child&mdash;to feel
+      itself alone and in the dark.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ernest was silent, and Florence continued, in an altered voice: &ldquo;This is a
+      strange conversation&mdash;and you must think me indeed a wild,
+      romance-reading person, as the world is apt to call me. But if I live&mdash;I&mdash;pshaw!&mdash;life
+      denies ambition to women.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If a woman like you, Lady Florence, should ever love, it will be one in
+      whose career you may perhaps find that noblest of all ambitions&mdash;the
+      ambition women only feel&mdash;the ambition for another!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! but I shall never love,&rdquo; said Lady Florence, and her cheek grew pale
+      as the starlight shone on it; &ldquo;still, perhaps,&rdquo; she added quickly, &ldquo;I may
+      at least know the blessing of friendship. Why now,&rdquo; and here, approaching
+      Maltravers, she laid her hand with a winning frankness on his arm&mdash;&ldquo;why
+      now, should not we be to each other as if love, as you call it, were not a
+      thing for earth&mdash;and friendship supplied its place?&mdash;there is no
+      danger of our falling in love with each other! You are not vain enough to
+      expect it in me, and I, you know, am a coquette; let us be friends,
+      confidants&mdash;at least till you marry, or I give another the right to
+      control my friendships and monopolise my secrets.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers was startled&mdash;the sentiment Florence addressed to him, he,
+      in words not dissimilar, had once addressed to Valerie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The world,&rdquo; said he, kissing the hand that yet lay on his arm, &ldquo;the world
+      will&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you men!&mdash;the world, the world!&mdash;Everything gentle,
+      everything pure, everything noble, high-wrought and holy&mdash;is to be
+      squared, and cribbed, and maimed to the rule and measure of the world! The
+      world&mdash;are you, too, its slave? Do you not despise its hollow cant&mdash;its
+      methodical hypocrisy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heartily!&rdquo; said Ernest Maltravers, almost with fierceness. &ldquo;No man ever
+      so scorned its false gods and its miserable creeds&mdash;its war upon the
+      weak&mdash;its fawning upon the great&mdash;its ingratitude to benefactors&mdash;its
+      sordid league with mediocrity against excellence. Yes, in proportion as I
+      love mankind, I despise and detest that worse than Venetian oligarchy
+      which mankind set over them and call &lsquo;THE WORLD.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And then it was, warmed by the excitement of released feelings, long and
+      carefully shrouded, that this man, ordinarily so calm and self-possessed,
+      poured burningly and passionately forth all those tumultuous and almost
+      tremendous thoughts, which, however much we may regulate, control, or
+      disguise them, lurk deep within the souls of all of us, the seeds of the
+      eternal war between the natural man and the artificial; between our wilder
+      genius and our social conventionalities;&mdash;thoughts that from time to
+      time break forth into the harbingers of vain and fruitless revolutions,
+      impotent struggles against destiny;&mdash;thoughts that good and wise men
+      would be slow to promulge and propagate, for they are of a fire which
+      burns as well as brightens, and which spreads from heart to heart&mdash;as
+      a spark spreads amidst flax;&mdash;thoughts which are rifest where natures
+      are most high, but belong to truths that virtue dare not tell aloud. And
+      as Maltravers spoke, with his eyes flashing almost intolerable light&mdash;his
+      breast heaving, his form dilated, never to the eyes of Florence Lascelles
+      did he seem so great: the chains that bound the strong limbs of his spirit
+      seemed snapped asunder, and all his soul was visible and towering, as a
+      thing that has escaped slavery, and lifts its crest to heaven, and feels
+      that it is free.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That evening saw a new bond of alliance between these two persons,&mdash;young,
+      handsome, and of opposite sexes, they agreed to be friends, and nothing
+      more. Fools!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0061" id="link2HCH0061">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Idem velle, et idem nolle, ea demum firma amicitia est.&rdquo; *
+        SALLUST.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      *To will the same thing and not to will the same thing, that at length is
+      firm friendship.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;<i>Carlos.</i> That letter.
+  <i>Princess Eboli.</i> Oh, I shall die. Return it instantly.&rdquo;
+         SCHILLER: <i>Don Carlos</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      IT seemed as if the compact Maltravers and Lady Florence had entered into
+      removed whatever embarrassment and reserve had previously existed. They
+      now conversed with an ease and freedom not common in persons of different
+      sexes before they have passed their grand climacteric. Ernest, in ordinary
+      life, like most men of warm emotions and strong imagination, if not
+      taciturn, was at least guarded. It was as if a weight were taken from his
+      breast, when he found one person who could understand him best when he was
+      most candid. His eloquence&mdash;his poetry&mdash;his intense and
+      concentrated enthusiasm found a voice. He could talk to an individual as
+      he would have written to the public&mdash;a rare happiness to the men of
+      books.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence seemed to recover her health and spirits as by a miracle; yet she
+      was more gentle, more subdued, than of old&mdash;there was less effort to
+      shine, less indifference whether she shocked. Persons who had not met her
+      before, wondered why she was dreaded in society. But at times a great
+      natural irritability of temper&mdash;a quick suspicion of the motives of
+      those around her&mdash;an imperious and obstinate vehemence of will, were
+      visible to Maltravers, and served, perhaps, to keep him heart-whole. He
+      regarded her through the eyes of the intellect, not those of the passions&mdash;he
+      thought not of her as a woman&mdash;her very talents, her very grandeur of
+      idea and power of purpose, while they delighted him in conversation,
+      diverted his imagination from dwelling on her beauty. He looked on her as
+      something apart from her sex;&mdash;a glorious creature spoilt by being a
+      woman. He once told her so, laughing, and Florence considered it a
+      compliment. Poor Florence, her scorn of her sex avenged her sex, and
+      robbed her of her proper destiny!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Cleveland silently observed their intimacy, and listened with a quiet
+      smile to the gossips who pointed out <i>tetes-a-tetes</i> by the terrace,
+      and loiterings by the lawn, and predicted what would come of it all. Lord
+      Saxingham was blind. But his daughter was of age, in possession of her
+      princely fortune, and had long made him sensible of her independence of
+      temper. His lordship, however, thoroughly misunderstood the character of
+      her pride, and felt fully convinced she would marry no one less than a
+      duke; as for flirtations, he thought them natural and innocent amusements.
+      Besides, he was very little at Temple Grove. He went to London every
+      morning, after breakfasting in his own room&mdash;came back to dine, play
+      at whist, and talk good-humoured nonsense to Florence in his
+      dressing-room, for the three minutes that took place between his sipping
+      his wine-and-water and the appearance of his valet. As for the other
+      guests, it was not their business to do more than gossip with each other;
+      and so Florence and Maltravers went on their way unmolested, though not
+      unobserved. Maltravers, not being himself in love, never fancied that Lady
+      Florence loved him, or that she would be in any danger of doing so. This
+      is a mistake a man often commits&mdash;a woman never. A woman always knows
+      when she is loved, though she often imagines she is loved when she is not.
+      Florence was not happy, for happiness is a calm feeling. But she was
+      excited with a vague, wild, intoxicating emotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had learned from Maltravers that she had been misinformed by Ferrers,
+      and that no other claimed empire over his heart; and whether or not he
+      loved her, still for the present they seemed all in all to each other; she
+      lived but for the present day, she would not think of the morrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Since that severe illness which had tended so much to alter Ernest&rsquo;s mode
+      of life, he had not come before the public as an author. Latterly,
+      however, the old habit had broken out again. With the comparative idleness
+      of recent years, the ideas and feelings which crowd so fast on the
+      poetical temperament, once indulged, had accumulated within him to an
+      excess that demanded vent. For with some, to write is not a vague desire,
+      but an imperious destiny. The fire is kindled and must break forth; the
+      wings are fledged, and the birds must leave their nest. The communication
+      of thought to man is implanted as an instinct in those breasts to which
+      Heaven has intrusted the solemn agencies of genius. In the work which
+      Maltravers now composed he consulted Florence: his confidence delighted
+      her&mdash;it was a compliment she could appreciate. Wild, fervid,
+      impassioned, was that work&mdash;a brief and holiday creation&mdash;the
+      youngest and most beloved of the children of his brain. And as day by day
+      the bright design grew into shape, and thought and imagination found
+      themselves &ldquo;local habitations,&rdquo; Florence felt as if she were admitted into
+      the palace of the genii, and made acquainted with the mechanism of those
+      spells and charms with which the preternatural powers of mind design the
+      witchery of the world. Ah, how different in depth and majesty were those
+      intercommunications of idea between Ernest Maltravers and a woman scarcely
+      inferior to himself in capacity and acquirement, from that bridge of
+      shadowy and dim sympathies which the enthusiastic boy had once built up
+      between his own poetry of knowledge and Alice&rsquo;s poetry of love!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was one late afternoon in September, when the sun was slowly going down
+      its western way, that Lady Florence, who had been all that morning in her
+      own room, paying off, as she said, the dull arrears of correspondence,
+      rather on Lord Saxingham&rsquo;s account than her own; for he punctiliously
+      exacted from her the most scrupulous attention to cousins fifty times
+      removed, provided they were rich, clever, well off, or in any way of
+      consequence:&mdash;it was one afternoon that, relieved from these
+      avocations, Lady Florence strolled through the grounds with Cleveland. The
+      gentlemen were still in the stubble-fields, the ladies were out in
+      barouches and pony phaetons, and Cleveland and Lady Florence were alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Apropos of Florence&rsquo;s epistolary employment, their conversation fell upon
+      that most charming species of literature, which joins with the interest of
+      a novel the truth of a history&mdash;the French memoir and letter-writers.
+      It was a part of literature in which Cleveland was thoroughly at home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Those agreeable and polished gossips,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;how well they contrived
+      to introduce nature into art! Everything artificial seemed so natural to
+      them. They even feel by a kind of clockwork, which seems to go better than
+      the heart itself. Those pretty sentiments, those delicate gallantries, of
+      Madame de Sevigne to her daughter, how amiable they are; but, somehow or
+      other, I can never fancy them the least motherly. What an ending for a
+      maternal epistle is that elegant compliment&mdash;&lsquo;Songez que de tons les
+      coeurs ou vous regnez, il n&rsquo;y en a aucun ou votre empire soit si bien
+      etabli que dans le mien.&lsquo;* I can scarcely fancy Lord Saxingham writing so
+      to you, Lady Florence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      * Think that of all the hearts over which you reign, there is not one in
+      which your empire can be so well established as in mine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, indeed,&rdquo; replied Lady Florence, smiling. &ldquo;Neither papas nor mammas in
+      England are much addicted to compliment; but I confess I like preserving a
+      sort of gallantry even in our most familiar connections&mdash;why should
+      we not carry the imagination into all the affections?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can scarce answer the why,&rdquo; returned Cleveland; &ldquo;but I think it would
+      destroy the reality. I am rather of the old school. If I had a daughter,
+      and asked her to get my slippers, I am afraid I should think it a little
+      wearisome if I had, in receiving them, to make <i>des belles phrases</i>
+      in return.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While they were thus talking, and Lady Florence continued to press her
+      side of the question, they passed through a little grove that conducted to
+      an arm of the stream which ornamented the grounds, and by its quiet and
+      shadowy gloom was meant to give a contrast to the livelier features of the
+      domain. Here they came suddenly upon Maltravers. He was walking by the
+      side of the brook, and evidently absorbed in thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the trembling of Lady Florence&rsquo;s hand as it lay on Cleveland&rsquo;s arm,
+      that induced him to stop short in an animated commentary on
+      Rochefoucauld&rsquo;s character of Cardinal de Retz, and look round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha, most meditative Jacques!&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;and what new moral hast thou been
+      conning in our Forest of Ardennes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I am glad to see you; I wished to consult you, Cleveland. But first,
+      Lady Florence, to convince you and our host that my rambles have not been
+      wholly fruitless, and that I could not walk from Dan to Beersheba and find
+      all barren, accept my offering&mdash;a wild rose that I discovered in the
+      thickest part of the wood. It is not a civilised rose. Now, Cleveland, a
+      word with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now, Mr. Maltravers, I am <i>de trop</i>,&rdquo; said Lady Florence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me, I have no secrets from you in this matter&mdash;or rather
+      these matters; for there are two to be discussed. In the first place, Lady
+      Florence, that poor Cesarini,&mdash;you know and like him&mdash;nay, no
+      blushes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did I blush?&mdash;then it was in recollection of an old reproach of
+      yours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At its justice?&mdash;well, no matter. He is one for whom I always felt a
+      lively interest. His very morbidity of temperament only increases my
+      anxiety for his future fate. I have received a letter from De Montaigne,
+      his brother-in-law, who seems seriously uneasy about Castruccio. He wishes
+      him to leave England at once, as the sole means of restoring his broken
+      fortunes. De Montaigne has the opportunity of procuring him a diplomatic
+      situation, which may not again occur&mdash;and&mdash;but you know the man&mdash;what
+      shall we do? I am sure he will not listen to me; he looks on me as an
+      interested rival for fame.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think I have any subtler eloquence?&rdquo; said Cleveland. &ldquo;No, I am an
+      author, too. Come, I think your ladyship must be the arch-negotiator.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has genius, he has merit,&rdquo; said Maltravers, pleadingly; &ldquo;he wants
+      nothing but time and experience to wean him from his foibles. <i>Will</i>
+      you try to save him, Lady Florence?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? nay, I must not be obdurate; I will see him when I go to town. It is
+      like you, Mr. Maltravers, to feel this interest in one&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who does not like me, you would say; but he will some day or other.
+      Besides, I owe him deep gratitude. In his weaker qualities I have seen
+      many which all literary men might incur, without strict watch over
+      themselves; and let me add, also, that his family have great claims on
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You believe in the soundness of his heart, and in the integrity of his
+      honour?&rdquo; said Cleveland, inquiringly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed I do; these are, these must be, the redeeming qualities of poets.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers spoke warmly; and such at that time was his influence over
+      Florence, that his words formed&mdash;alas, too fatally!&mdash;her
+      estimate of Castruccio&rsquo;s character, which had at first been high, but
+      which his own presumption had latterly shaken. She had seen him three or
+      four times in the interval between the receipt of his apologetic letter
+      and her visit to Cleveland, and he had seemed to her rather sullen than
+      humbled. But she felt for the vanity she herself had wounded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now,&rdquo; continued Maltravers, &ldquo;for my second subject of consultation.
+      But that is political; will it weary Lady Florence?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no; to politics I am never indifferent: they always inspire me with
+      contempt or admiration, according to the motives of those who bring the
+      science into action. Pray say on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Cleveland, &ldquo;one confidant at a time; you will forgive me, for
+      I see my guests coming across the lawn, and I may as well make a diversion
+      in your favour. Ernest can consult <i>me</i> at any time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cleveland walked away; but the intimacy between Maltravers and Florence
+      was of so frank a nature that there was nothing embarrassing in the
+      thought of a <i>tete-a-tete</i>.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lady Florence,&rdquo; said Ernest, &ldquo;there is no one in the world with whom I
+      can confer so cheerfully as with you. I am almost glad of Cleveland&rsquo;s
+      absence, for, with all his amiable and fine qualities, &lsquo;the world is too
+      much with him,&rsquo; and we do not argue from the same data. Pardon my prelude&mdash;now
+      to my position. I have received a letter from Mr. &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;.
+      That statesman, whom none but those acquainted with the chivalrous beauty
+      of his nature can understand or appreciate, sees before him the most
+      brilliant career that ever opened in this country to a public man not born
+      an aristocrat. He has asked me to form one of the new administration that
+      he is about to create: the place offered to me is above my merits, nor
+      suited to what I have yet done, though, perhaps, it be suited to what I
+      may yet do. I make that qualification, for you know,&rdquo; added Ernest, with a
+      proud smile, &ldquo;that I am sanguine and self-confident.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You accept the proposal?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay,&mdash;should I not reject it? Our politics are the same only for the
+      moment, our ultimate objects are widely different. To serve with Mr.&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;,
+      I must make an unequal compromise&mdash;abandon nine opinions to promote
+      one. Is not this a capitulation of that great citadel, one&rsquo;s own
+      conscience? No man will call me inconsistent, for, in public life, to
+      agree with another on a party question is all that is required; the
+      thousand questions not yet ripened, and lying dark and concealed in the
+      future, are not inquired into and divined; but I own I shall deem myself
+      worse than inconsistent. For this is my dilemma,&mdash;if I use this noble
+      spirit merely to advance one object, and then desert him where he halts, I
+      am treacherous to him; if I halt with him, but one of my objects effected,
+      I am treacherous to myself. Such are my views. It is with pain I arrive at
+      them, for, at first, my heart beat with a selfish ambition.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right, you are right,&rdquo; exclaimed Florence, with glowing cheeks;
+      &ldquo;how could I doubt you? I comprehend the sacrifice you make; for a proud
+      thing is it to soar above the predictions of foes in that palpable road to
+      honour which the world&rsquo;s hard eyes can see, and the world&rsquo;s cold heart can
+      measure; but prouder is it to feel that you have never advanced one step
+      to the goal, which remembrance would retract. No, my friend, wait your
+      time, confident that it must come, when conscience and ambition can go
+      hand-in-hand&mdash;when the broad objects of a luminous and enlarged
+      policy lie before you like a chart, and you can calculate every step of
+      the way without peril of being lost. Ah, let them still call loftiness of
+      purpose and whiteness of soul the dreams of a theorist,&mdash;even if they
+      be so, the Ideal in this case is better than the Practical. Meanwhile your
+      position is not one to forfeit lightly. Before you is that throne in
+      literature which it requires no doubtful step to win, if you have, as I
+      believe, the mental power to attain it. An ambition that may indeed be
+      relinquished, if a more troubled career can better achieve those public
+      purposes at which both letters and policy should aim, but which is not to
+      be surrendered for the rewards of a place-man, or the advancement of a
+      courtier.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was while uttering these noble and inspiring sentiments, that Florence
+      Lascelles suddenly acquired in Ernest&rsquo;s eyes a loveliness with which they
+      had not before invested her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; he said, as, with a sudden impulse, he lifted her hand to his lips,
+      &ldquo;blessed be the hour in which you gave me your friendship! These are the
+      thoughts I have longed to hear from living lips, when I have been tempted
+      to believe patriotism a delusion, and virtue but a name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Florence heard, and her whole form seemed changed,&mdash;she was no
+      longer the majestic sibyl, but the attached, timorous, delighted woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It so happened that in her confusion she dropped from her hand the flower
+      Maltravers had given her, and involuntarily glad of a pretext to conceal
+      her countenance, she stooped to take it from the ground. In so doing, a
+      letter fell from her bosom&mdash;and Maltravers, as he bent forwards to
+      forestall her own movement, saw that the direction was to himself, and in
+      the handwriting of his unknown correspondent. He seized the letter, and
+      gazed in flattered and entranced astonishment, first on the writing, next
+      on the detected writer. Florence grew deadly pale, and covering her face
+      with her hands, burst into tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O fool that I was,&rdquo; cried Ernest, in the passion of the moment, &ldquo;not to
+      know&mdash;not to have felt that there were not two Florences in the
+      world! But if the thought had crossed me, I would not have dared to
+      harbour it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go, go,&rdquo; sobbed Florence; &ldquo;leave me, in mercy leave me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not till you bid me rise,&rdquo; said Ernest, in emotion scarcely less deep
+      than hers, as he sank on his knee at her feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Need I go on?&mdash;When they left that spot, a soft confession had been
+      made&mdash;deep vows interchanged, and Ernest Maltravers was the accepted
+      suitor of Florence Lascelles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0062" id="link2HCH0062">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;A hundred fathers would in my situation tell you that, as
+  you are of noble extraction, you should marry a nobleman.
+  But I do not say so. I will not sacrifice my child to any
+  prejudice.&rdquo;
+         KOTZEBUE. <i>Lover&rsquo;s Vows</i>.
+
+ &ldquo;Take heed, my lord; the welfare of us all
+  Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man.&rdquo;
+         SHAKSPEARE. <i>Henry VI.</i>
+
+ &ldquo;Oh, how this spring of love resembleth
+  Th&rsquo; uncertain glory of an April day;
+  Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
+  And by and by a cloud takes all away!&rdquo;
+         SHAKSPEARE. <i>The Two Gentlemen of Verona</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      WHEN Maltravers was once more in his solitary apartment, he felt as in a
+      dream. He had obeyed an impulse, irresistible, perhaps, but one with which
+      the <i>conscience of his heart</i> was not satisfied. A voice whispered to
+      him, &ldquo;Thou hast deceived her and thyself&mdash;thou dost not love her!&rdquo; In
+      vain he recalled her beauty, her grace, her genius&mdash;her singular and
+      enthusiastic passion for himself&mdash;the voice still replied, &ldquo;Thou dost
+      not love. Bid farewell for ever to thy fond dreams of a life more blessed
+      than that of mortals. From the stormy sea of the future are blotted out
+      eternally for thee&mdash;Calypso and her Golden Isle. Thou canst no more
+      paint on the dim canvas of thy desires the form of her with whom thou
+      couldst dwell for ever. Thou hast been unfaithful to thine own ideal&mdash;thou
+      hast given thyself for ever and for ever to another&mdash;thou hast
+      renounced hope&mdash;thou must live as in a prison, with a being with whom
+      thou hast not the harmony of love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No matter,&rdquo; said Maltravers, almost alarmed, and starting from these
+      thoughts, &ldquo;I am betrothed to one who loves me&mdash;it is folly and
+      dishonour to repent and to repine. I have gone through the best years of
+      youth without finding the Egeria with whom the cavern would be sweeter
+      than a throne. Why live to the grave a vain and visionary Nympholept? Out
+      of the real world could I have made a nobler choice?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While Maltravers thus communed with himself, Lady Florence passed into her
+      father&rsquo;s dressing-room, and there awaited his return from London. She knew
+      his worldly views&mdash;she knew also the pride of her affianced, and, she
+      felt that she alone could mediate between the two.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Saxingham at last returned&mdash;busy, bustling, important, and
+      good-humoured as usual. &ldquo;Well, Flory, well?&mdash;glad to see you&mdash;quite
+      blooming, I declare,&mdash;never saw you with such a colour&mdash;monstrous
+      like me, certainly. We always had fine complexions and fine eyes in our
+      family. But I&rsquo;m rather late&mdash;first bell rung&mdash;we <i>ci-devant
+      jeunes hommes</i> are rather long dressing, and you are not dressed yet, I
+      see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dearest father, I wished to speak with you on a matter of much
+      importance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you?&mdash;what, immediately?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;what is it?&mdash;your Slingsby property, I suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, my dear father&mdash;pray sit down and hear me patiently.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Saxingham began to be both alarmed and curious&mdash;he seated
+      himself in silence, and looked anxiously in the face of his daughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have always been very indulgent to me,&rdquo; commenced Florence, with a
+      half smile, &ldquo;and I have had my own way more than most young ladies.
+      Believe me, my dear father. I am most grateful not only for your affection
+      but your esteem. I have been a strange wild girl, but I am now about to
+      reform; and as the first step, I ask your consent to give myself a
+      preceptor and a guide&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A what!&rdquo; cried Lord Saxingham.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In other words, I am about to&mdash;to&mdash;well, the truth must out&mdash;to
+      marry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has the Duke of &mdash;&mdash;&mdash; been here to-day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not that I know of. But it is no duke to whom I have promised my hand&mdash;it
+      is a nobler and rarer dignity that has caught my ambition. Mr. Maltravers
+      has&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Maltravers!&mdash;Mr. Devil!&mdash;the girl&rsquo;s mad!&mdash;don&rsquo;t talk
+      to me, child, I won&rsquo;t consent to any such nonsense. A country gentleman&mdash;very
+      respectable, very clever, and all that, but it&rsquo;s no use talking&mdash;my
+      mind&rsquo;s made up. With your fortune, too!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear father, I will not marry without your consent, though my fortune
+      is settled on me, and I am of age.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There&rsquo;s a good child&mdash;and now let me dress&mdash;we shall be late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not yet,&rdquo; said Lady Florence, throwing her arm carelessly round her
+      father&rsquo;s neck&mdash;&ldquo;I shall marry Mr. Maltravers, but it will be with
+      your full approval. Just consider, if I married the Duke of &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;,
+      he would expect all my fortune, such as it is. Ten thousand a year is at
+      my disposal; if I marry Mr. Maltravers, it will be settled on you&mdash;I
+      always meant it&mdash;it is a poor return for your kindness, your
+      indulgence&mdash;but it will show that your own Flory is not ungrateful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t hear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop&mdash;listen to reason. You are not rich&mdash;you are entitled but
+      to a small pension if you ever resign office, and your official salary, I
+      have often heard you say, does not prevent you from being embarrassed. To
+      whom should a daughter give from her superfluities but to a parent?&mdash;from
+      whom should a parent receive, but from a child, who can never repay his
+      love?&mdash;Ah, this is nothing; but you&mdash;you who have never crossed
+      her lightest whim&mdash;do not you destroy all the hopes of happiness your
+      Florence can ever form.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence wept, and Lord Saxingham, who was greatly moved, let fall a few
+      tears also. Perhaps it is too much to say that the pecuniary part of the
+      proffered arrangement entirely won him over; but still the way it was
+      introduced softened his heart. He possibly thought that it was better to
+      have a good and grateful daughter in a country gentleman&rsquo;s wife, than a
+      sullen and thankless one in a duchess. However that may be, certain it is,
+      that before Lord Saxingham began his toilet, he promised to make no
+      obstacle to the marriage, and all he asked in return was, that at least
+      three months (but that, indeed, the lawyers would require) should elapse
+      before it took place; and on this understanding Florence left him, radiant
+      and joyous as Flora herself, when the sun of spring makes the world a
+      garden. Never had she thought so little of her beauty, and never had it
+      seemed so glorious, as that happy evening. But Maltravers was pale and
+      thoughtful, and Florence in vain sought his eyes during the dinner, which
+      seemed to her insufferably long. Afterwards, however, they met and
+      conversed apart the rest of the evening; and the beauty of Florence began
+      to produce upon Ernest&rsquo;s heart its natural effect; and that evening&mdash;ah,
+      how Florence treasured the remembrance of every hour, every minute of its
+      annals!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It would have been amusing to witness the short conversation between Lord
+      Saxingham and Maltravers, when the latter sought the earl at night in his
+      lordship&rsquo;s room. To Lord Saxingham&rsquo;s surprise, not a word did Maltravers
+      utter of his own subordinate pretensions to Lady Florence&rsquo;s hand. Coldly,
+      drily, and almost haughtily, did he make the formal proposals, &ldquo;as if [as
+      Lord Saxingham afterwards said to Ferrers] the man were doing me the
+      highest possible honour in taking my daughter, the beauty of London, with
+      fifty thousand a year, off my hands.&rdquo; But this was quite Maltravers!&mdash;if
+      he had been proposing to the daughter of a country curate, without a
+      sixpence, he would have been the humblest of the humble. The earl was
+      embarrassed and discomposed&mdash;he was almost awed by the Siddons-like
+      countenance and Coriolanus-like air of his future son-in-law-he even
+      hinted nothing of the compromise as to time which he had made with his
+      daughter. He thought it better to leave it to Lady Florence to arrange
+      that matter. They shook hands frigidly and parted. Maltravers went next
+      into Cleveland&rsquo;s room, and communicated all to the delighted old man,
+      whose congratulations were so fervid that Maltravers felt it would be a
+      sin not to fancy himself the happiest, man in the world. That night he
+      wrote his refusal of the appointment offered him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next day, Lord Saxingham went to his office in Downing Street as
+      usual, and Lady Florence and Ernest found an opportunity to ramble through
+      the grounds alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There it was that occurred those confessions, sweet alike to utter and to
+      hear. Then did Florence speak of her early years&mdash;of her self-formed
+      and solitary mind&mdash;of her youthful dreams and reveries. Nothing
+      around her to excite interest or admiration, or the more romantic, the
+      higher, or the softer qualities of her nature, she turned to contemplation
+      and to books. It is the combination of the faculties with the affections,
+      exiled from action, and finding no worldly vent, which produces Poetry,
+      the child of passion and of thought. Hence, before the real cares of
+      existence claim them, the young, who are abler yet lonelier than their
+      fellows, are nearly always poets; and Florence was a poetess. In minds
+      like this, the first book that seems to embody and represent their own
+      most cherished and beloved trains of sentiment and ideas, ever creates a
+      reverential and deep enthusiasm. The lonely, and proud, and melancholy
+      soul of Maltravers, which made itself visible in all his creations, became
+      to Florence like a revealer of the secrets of her own nature. She
+      conceived an intense and mysterious interest in the man whose mind
+      exercised so pervading a power over her own. She made herself acquainted
+      with his pursuits, his career&mdash;she fancied she found a symmetry and
+      harmony between the actual being and the breathing genius&mdash;she
+      imagined she understood what seemed dark and obscure to others. He whom
+      she had never seen grew to her a never-absent friend. His ambition, his
+      reputation, were to her like a possession of her own. So at length, in the
+      folly of her young romance, she wrote to him, and dreaming of no
+      discovery, anticipating no result, the habit once indulged became to her
+      that luxury which writing for the eye of the world is to an author
+      oppressed with the burthen of his own thoughts. At length she saw him, and
+      he did not destroy her illusion. She might have recovered from the spell
+      if she had found him ready at once to worship at her shrine. The mixture
+      of reserve and frankness&mdash;frankness of language, reserve of manner&mdash;which
+      belonged to Maltravers, piqued her. Her vanity became the auxiliary to her
+      imagination. At length they met at Cleveland&rsquo;s house; their intercourse
+      became more unrestrained&mdash;their friendship was established, and she
+      discovered that she had wilfully implicated her happiness in indulging her
+      dreams; yet even then she believed that Maltravers loved her, despite his
+      silence upon the subject of love. His manner, his words bespoke his
+      interest in her, and his voice was ever soft when he spoke to women; for
+      he had much of the old chivalric respect and tenderness for the sex. What
+      was general it was natural that she should apply individually&mdash;she
+      who had walked the world but to fascinate and to conquer. It was probable
+      that her great wealth and social position imposed a check on the delicate
+      pride of Maltravers&mdash;she hoped so&mdash;she believed it&mdash;yet she
+      felt her danger, and her own pride at last took alarm. In such a moment
+      she had resumed the character of the unknown correspondent&mdash;she had
+      written to Maltravers&mdash;addressed her letter to his own house, and
+      meant the next day to have gone to London, and posted it there. In this
+      letter she had spoken of his visit to Cleveland, of his position with
+      herself. She exhorted him, if he loved her, to confess, and if not, to
+      fly. She had written artfully and eloquently&mdash;she was desirous of
+      expediting her own fate; and then, with that letter in her bosom, she had
+      met Maltravers, and the reader has learned the rest. Something of all this
+      the blushing and happy Florence now revealed: and when she ended with
+      uttering the woman&rsquo;s soft fear that she had been too bold, is it wonderful
+      that Maltravers, clasping her to his bosom, felt the gratitude, and the
+      delighted vanity, which seemed even to himself like love? And into love
+      those feelings rapidly and deliciously will merge, if fate and accident
+      permit!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now they were by the side of the water; and the sun was gently setting
+      as on the eve before. It was about the same hour, the fairest of an autumn
+      day; none were near&mdash;the slope of the hill hid the house from their
+      view. Had they been in the desert they could not have been more alone. It
+      was not silence that breathed around them, as they sat on that bench with
+      the broad beech spreading over them its trembling canopy of leaves;&mdash;but
+      those murmurs of living nature which are sweeter than silence itself&mdash;the
+      songs of birds&mdash;the tinkling bell of the sheep on the opposite bank&mdash;the
+      wind sighing through the trees, and the gentle heaving of the glittering
+      waves that washed the odorous reed and water-lily at their feet. They had
+      both been for some moments silent; and Florence now broke the pause, but
+      in tones more low than usual.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said she, turning towards him, &ldquo;these hours are happier than we can
+      find in that crowded world whither your destiny must call us. For me,
+      ambition seems for ever at an end. I have found all; I am no longer
+      haunted with the desire of gaining a vague something,&mdash;a shadowy
+      empire, that we call fame or power. The sole thought that disturbs the
+      calm current of my soul, is the fear to lose a particle of the rich
+      possession I have gained.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0358}.jpg" alt="{0358}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0358}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5>
+
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May your fears ever be as idle!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you really love me! I repeat to myself ever and ever that one phrase.
+      I could once have borne to lose you, now it would be my death. I despaired
+      of ever being loved for myself; my wealth was a fatal dower; I suspected
+      avarice in every vow, and saw the base world lurk at the bottom of every
+      heart that offered itself at my shrine. But you, Ernest,&mdash;you, I
+      feel, never could weigh gold in the balance&mdash;and you&mdash;if you
+      love&mdash;love me for myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I shall love thee more with every hour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know not that: I dread that you will love me less when you know me
+      more. I fear I shall seem to you exacting&mdash;I am jealous already. I
+      was jealous even of Lady T&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;, when I saw you by her
+      side this morning. I would have your every look&mdash;monopolise your
+      every word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This confession did not please Maltravers, as it might have done if he had
+      been more deeply in love. Jealousy, in a woman of so vehement and
+      imperious a nature, was indeed a passion to be dreaded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not say so, dear Florence,&rdquo; said he, with a very grave smile; &ldquo;for
+      love should have implicit confidence as its bond and nature&mdash;and
+      jealousy is doubt, and doubt is the death of love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A shade passed over Florence&rsquo;s too expressive face, and she sighed
+      heavily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was at this time that Maltravers, raising his eyes, saw the form of
+      Lumley Ferrers approaching towards them from the opposite end of the
+      terrace: at the same instant, a dark cloud crept over the sky, the waters
+      seemed overcast and the breeze fell: a chill and strange presentiment of
+      evil shot across Ernest&rsquo;s heart, and, like many imaginative persons, he
+      was unconsciously superstitious as to presentiments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are no longer alone,&rdquo; said he, rising; &ldquo;your cousin has doubtless
+      learned our engagement, and comes to congratulate your suitor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; he continued musingly, as they walked on to meet Ferrers, &ldquo;are
+      you very partial to Lumley? what think you of his character?&mdash;it is
+      one that perplexes me; sometimes I think it has changed since we parted in
+      Italy&mdash;sometimes I think it has not changed, but ripened.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lumley, I have known from a child,&rdquo; replied Florence, &ldquo;and see much to
+      admire and like in him; I admire his boldness and candour; his scorn of
+      the world&rsquo;s littleness and falsehood; I like his good-nature&mdash;his
+      gaiety&mdash;and fancy his heart better than it may seem to the
+      superficial observer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet he appears to me selfish and unprincipled.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is from a fine contempt for the vices and follies of men that he has
+      contracted the habit of consulting his own resolute will&mdash;and,
+      believing everything done in this noisy stage of action a cheat, he has
+      accommodated his ambition to the fashion. Though without what is termed
+      genius, he will obtain a distinction and power that few men of genius
+      arrive at.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because <i>genius</i> is essentially honest,&rdquo; said Maltravers. &ldquo;However,
+      you teach me to look on him more indulgently. I suspect the real frankness
+      of men whom I know to be hypocrites in public life&mdash;but, perhaps, I
+      judge by too harsh a standard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Third persons,&rdquo; said Ferrers, as he now joined them, &ldquo;are seldom
+      unwelcome in the country; and I flatter myself that I am the exact thing
+      wanting to complete the charm of this beautiful landscape.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are ever modest, my cousin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is my weak side, I know; but I shall improve with years and wisdom.
+      What say you, Maltravers?&rdquo; and Ferrers passed his arm affectionately
+      through Ernest&rsquo;s.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By the by, I am too familiar&mdash;I am sunk in the world. I am a thing
+      to be sneered at by you old-family people. I am next heir to a bran-new
+      Brummagem peerage. &lsquo;Gad, I feel brassy already!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, is Mr. Templeton&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Templeton is no more; he is defunct, extinguished&mdash;out of the
+      ashes rises the phoenix Lord Vargrave. We had thought of a more sounding
+      title; De Courval has a nobler sound,&mdash;but my good uncle has nothing
+      of the Norman about him: so we dropped the De as ridiculous&mdash;Vargrave
+      is euphonious and appropriate. My uncle has a manor of that name&mdash;Baron
+      Vargrave of Vargrave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah&mdash;I congratulate you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you. Lady Vargrave may destroy all my hopes yet. But nothing
+      venture, nothing have. My uncle will be gazetted to-day. Poor man, he will
+      be delighted; and as he certainly owes it much to me, he will, I suppose,
+      be very grateful&mdash;or hate me ever afterwards&mdash;that is a toss up.
+      A benefit conferred is a complete hazard between the thumb of pride and
+      the forefinger of affection. Heads gratitude, tails hatred! There, that&rsquo;s
+      a simile in the fashion of the old writers: &lsquo;Well of English undefiled!&rsquo;
+      humph!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So that beautiful child is Mrs. Templeton&rsquo;s, or rather Lady Vargrave&rsquo;s,
+      daughter by a former marriage?&rdquo; said Maltravers, abstractedly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it is astonishing how fond he is of her. Pretty little creature&mdash;confoundedly
+      artful though. By the way, Maltravers, we had an unexpectedly stormy night
+      the last of the session&mdash;strong division&mdash;ministers hard
+      pressed. I made quite a good speech for them. I suppose, however, there
+      will be some change&mdash;the moderates will be taken in. Perhaps by next
+      session I may congratulate you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ferrers looked hard at Maltravers while he spoke. But Ernest replied
+      coldly, and evasively, and they were now joined by a party of idlers,
+      lounging along the lawn in expectation of the first dinner-bell. Cleveland
+      was in high consultation about the proper spot for a new fountain; and he
+      summoned Maltravers to give his opinion whether it should spring from the
+      centre of a flower-bed or beneath the drooping shade of a large willow.
+      While this interesting discussion was going on, Ferrers drew aside his
+      cousin, and pressing her hand affectionately, said, in a soft and tender
+      voice:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Florence&mdash;for in such a time permit me to be familiar&mdash;I
+      understand from Lord Saxingham, whom I met in London, that you are engaged
+      to Maltravers. Busy as I was, I could not rest without coming hither to
+      offer my best and most earnest wish for your happiness. I may seem a
+      careless, I am considered a selfish, person; but my heart is warm to those
+      who really interest it. And never did brother offer up for the welfare of
+      a beloved sister prayers more anxious and fond, than those that poor
+      Lumley Ferrers, breathes for Florence Lascelles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence was startled and melted&mdash;the whole tone and manner of Lumley
+      were so different from those he usually assumed. She warmly returned the
+      pressure of his hand, and thanked him briefly, but with emotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one is great and good enough for you, Florence,&rdquo; continued Ferrers&mdash;&ldquo;no
+      one. But I admire your disinterested and generous choice. Maltravers and I
+      have not been friends lately; but I respect him, as all must. He has noble
+      qualities, and he has great ambition. In addition to the deep and ardent
+      love that you cannot fail to inspire, he will owe you eternal gratitude.
+      In this aristocratic country, your hand secures to him the most brilliant
+      fortunes, the most proud career. His talents will now be measured by a
+      very different standard. His merits will not pass through any subordinate
+      grades, but leap at once into the highest posts; and, as he is even more
+      proud than ambitious, how he must bless one who raises him, without
+      effort, into positions of eminent command!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, he does not think of such worldly advantages&mdash;he, the too pure,
+      the too refined!&rdquo; said Florence, with trembling eagerness. &ldquo;He has no
+      avarice, nothing mercenary in his nature!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; there you indeed do him justice,&mdash;there is not a particle of
+      baseness in his mind&mdash;I did not say there was. The very greatness of
+      his aspirations, his indignant and scornful pride, lift him above the
+      thought of your wealth, your rank,&mdash;except as means to an end.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mistake still,&rdquo; said Florence, faintly smiling, but turning pale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; resumed Ferrers, not appearing to hear her, and as if pursuing his
+      own thoughts. &ldquo;I always predicted that Maltravers would make a
+      distinguished connection in marriage. He would not permit himself to love
+      the lowborn or the poor. His affections are in his pride as much as in his
+      heart. He is a great creature&mdash;you have judged wisely&mdash;and may
+      Heaven bless you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With these words, Ferrers left her, and Florence, when she descended to
+      dinner, wore a moody and clouded brow. Ferrers stayed three days at the
+      house. He was peculiarly cordial to Maltravers, and spoke little to
+      Florence. But that little never failed to leave upon her mind a jealous
+      and anxious irritability, to which she yielded with morbid facility. In
+      order perfectly to understand Florence Lascelles, it must be remembered
+      that, with all her dazzling qualities, she was not what is called a
+      lovable person. A certain hardness in her disposition, even as a child,
+      had prevented her winding into the hearts of those around her. Deprived of
+      her mother&rsquo;s care&mdash;having little or no intercourse with children of
+      her own age&mdash;brought up with a starched governess, or female
+      relations, poor and proud&mdash;she never had contracted the softness of
+      manner which the reciprocation of household affections usually produces.
+      With a haughty consciousness of her powers, her birth, her position,
+      advantages always dinned into her ear, she grew up solitary, unsocial, and
+      imperious. Her father was rather proud than fond of her&mdash;her servants
+      did not love her&mdash;she had too little consideration for others, too
+      little blandness and suavity to be loved by inferiors&mdash;she was too
+      learned and too stern to find pleasure in the conversation and society of
+      young ladies of her own age:&mdash;she had no friends. Now, having really
+      strong affection, she felt all this, but rather with resentment than grief&mdash;she
+      longed to be loved, but did not seek to be so&mdash;she felt as if it was
+      her fate not to be loved&mdash;she blamed Fate, not herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When, with all the proud, pure, and generous candour of her nature, she
+      avowed to Ernest her love for him, she naturally expected the most ardent
+      and passionate return; nothing less could content her. But the habit and
+      experience of all the past made her eternally suspicious that she was not
+      loved; it was wormwood and poison to her to fancy that Maltravers had ever
+      considered her advantages of fortune, except as a bar to his pretensions
+      and a check on his passion. It was the same thing to her, whether it was
+      the pettiest avarice or the loftiest aspirations that actuated her lover,
+      if he had been actuated in his heart by any sentiment but love; and
+      Ferrers, to whose eye her foibles were familiar, knew well how to make his
+      praises of Ernest arouse against Ernest all her exacting jealousies and
+      irritable doubts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is strange,&rdquo; said he, one evening, as he was conversing with Florence,
+      &ldquo;how complete and triumphant a conquest you have effected over Ernest!
+      Will you believe it?&mdash;he conceived a prejudice against you when he
+      first saw you&mdash;he even said that you were made to be admired, not to
+      be loved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha!&mdash;did he so?&mdash;true, true&mdash;he has almost said the same
+      thing to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But now how he must love you! Surely he has all the signs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what are the signs, most learned Lumley?&rdquo; said Florence, forcing a
+      smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, in the first place, you will doubtless observe that he never takes
+      his eyes from you&mdash;with whomsoever he converses, whatever his
+      occupation, those eyes, restless and pining, wander around for one glance
+      from you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence sighed, and looked up&mdash;at the other end of the room, her
+      lover was conversing with Cleveland, and his eyes never wandered in search
+      of her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ferrers did not seem to notice this practical contradiction of his theory,
+      but went on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then surely his whole character is changed&mdash;that brow has lost its
+      calm majesty, that deep voice its assured and tranquil tone. Has he not
+      become humble, and embarrassed, and fretful, living only on your smile,
+      reproachful if you look upon another&mdash;sorrowful if your lip be less
+      smiling&mdash;a thing of doubt, and dread, and trembling agitation&mdash;slave
+      to a shadow&mdash;no longer lord of the creation? Such is love, such is
+      the love you should inspire, such is the love Maltravers is capable of&mdash;for
+      I have seen him testify it to another. But,&rdquo; added Lumley, quickly, and as
+      if afraid he had said too much, &ldquo;Lord Saxingham is looking out for me to
+      make up his whist-table. I go to-morrow&mdash;when shall you be in town?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the course of the week,&rdquo; said poor Florence mechanically; and Lumley
+      walked away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In another moment, Maltravers, who had been more observant than he seemed,
+      joined her where she sat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear Florence,&rdquo; said he, tenderly, &ldquo;you look pale&mdash;I fear you are
+      not so well this evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No affectation of an interest you do not feel, pray,&rdquo; said Florence, with
+      a scornful lip but swimming eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not feel, Florence!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the first time, at least, that you have observed whether I am well
+      or ill. But it is no matter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Florence,&mdash;why this tone?&mdash;how have I offended you? Has
+      Lumley said&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing but in your praise. Oh, be not afraid, you are one of those of
+      whom all speak highly. But do not let me detain you here; let us join our
+      host&mdash;you have left him alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Florence waited for no reply, nor did Maltravers attempt to detain
+      her. He looked pained, and when she turned round to catch a glance, that
+      she hoped would be reproachful, he was gone. Lady Florence became nervous
+      and uneasy, talked she knew not what, and laughed hysterically. She,
+      however, deceived Cleveland into the notion that she was in the best
+      possible spirits. By and by she rose, and passed through the suite of
+      rooms: her heart was with Maltravers&mdash;still he was not visible. At
+      length she entered the conservatory, and there she observed him, through
+      the open casements, walking slowly, with folded arms, upon the moonlit
+      lawn. There was a short struggle in her breast between woman&rsquo;s pride and
+      woman&rsquo;s love; the last conquered, and she joined him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive me, Ernest,&rdquo; she said, extending her hand, &ldquo;I was to blame.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ernest kissed the fair hand, and answered touchingly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Florence, you have the power to wound me, be forbearing in its exercise.
+      Heaven knows that I would not, from the vain desire of showing command
+      over you, inflict upon you a single pang. Ah! do not fancy that in lovers&rsquo;
+      quarrels there is any sweetness that compensates the sting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told you I was too exacting, Ernest. I told you you would not love me
+      so well when you knew me better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And were a false prophetess. Florence, every day, every hour I love you
+      more&mdash;better than I once thought I could.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; cried this wayward girl, anxious to pain herself, &ldquo;then once you
+      did not love me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Florence, I will be candid&mdash;I did not. You are now rapidly obtaining
+      an empire over me, greater than my reason should allow. But, beware: if my
+      love be really a possession you desire,&mdash;beware how you arm my reason
+      against you. Florence, I am a proud man. My very consciousness of the more
+      splendid alliances you could form renders me less humble a lover than you
+      might find in others. I were not worthy of you if I were not tenacious of
+      my self-respect.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said Florence, to whose heart these words went home, &ldquo;forgive me but
+      this once. I shall not forgive myself so soon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Ernest drew her to his heart, and felt that, with all her faults, a
+      woman whom he feared he could not render as happy as her sacrifices to him
+      deserved was becoming very dear to him. In his heart he knew that she was
+      not formed to render him happy; but that was not his thought, his fear.
+      Her love had rooted out all thought of self from that generous breast. His
+      only anxiety was to requite her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They walked along the sward, silent, thoughtful; and Florence melancholy,
+      yet blessed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That serene heaven, those lovely stars,&rdquo; said Maltravers at last, &ldquo;do
+      they not preach to us the Philosophy of Peace? Do they not tell us how
+      much of calm belongs to the dignity of man, and the sublime essence of the
+      soul. Petty distractions and self-wrought cares are not congenial to our
+      real nature; their very disturbance is a proof that they are at war with
+      our natures. Ah, sweet Florence, let us learn from yon skies, over which,
+      in the faith of the poets of old, brooded the wings of primaeval and
+      serenest Love, what earthly love should be,&mdash;a thing pure as light,
+      and peaceful as immortality, watching over the stormy world, that it shall
+      survive, and high above the clouds and vapours that roll below. Let little
+      minds introduce into the holiest of affections all the bitterness and
+      tumult of common life! Let us love as beings who will one day be
+      inhabitants of the stars!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0063" id="link2HCH0063">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;A slippery and subtle knave; a finder out of occasions, that
+  has an eye can stamp and counterfeit advantages.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Othello</i>.
+
+ &ldquo;Knavery&rsquo;s plain face is never seen till used."-<i>-Ibid.</i>
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, my dear Lumley,&rdquo; said Lord Saxingham, as the next day the two
+      kinsmen were on their way to London in the earl&rsquo;s chariot, &ldquo;you see that
+      at the best this marriage of Flory&rsquo;s is a cursed bore.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, indeed, it has its disadvantages. Maltravers is a gentleman and a
+      man of genius; but gentlemen are plentiful, and his genius only tells
+      against us, since he is not even of our politics.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly&mdash;my own son-in-law voting against me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A practicable, reasonable man would change; not so Maltravers&mdash;and
+      all the estates, and all the parliamentary influence, and all the wealth
+      that ought to go with the family and with the party, go out of the family
+      and against the party. You are quite right, my dear lord&mdash;it is a
+      cursed bore.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And she might have had the Duke of &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;, a man with a
+      rental of L100,000 a year. It is too ridiculous. This Maltravers, d&mdash;&mdash;d
+      disagreeable fellow, too, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stiff and stately&mdash;much changed for the worse of late years&mdash;grown
+      conceited and set up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know, Lumley, I would rather, of the two, have had you for my
+      son-in-law?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lumley half started. &ldquo;Are you serious, my lord? I have not Ernest&rsquo;s
+      fortune&mdash;I cannot make such settlements: my lineage, too, at least on
+      my mother&rsquo;s side, is less ancient.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, as to settlements, Flory&rsquo;s fortune ought to be settled on herself,&mdash;and
+      as compared with that fortune, what could Mr. Maltravers pretend to
+      settle? Neither she nor any children she may have could want his L4,000 a
+      year, if he settled it all. As for family, connections tell more nowadays
+      than Norman descent,&mdash;and for the rest, you are likely to be old
+      Templeton&rsquo;s heir, to have a peerage (a large sum of ready money is always
+      useful)&mdash;are rising in the House&mdash;one of our own set&mdash;will
+      soon be in office&mdash;and, flattery apart, a devilish good fellow into
+      the bargain. Oh, I would sooner a thousand times that Flory had taken a
+      fancy to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lumley Ferrers bowed his head but said nothing. He fell into a reverie,
+      and Lord Saxingham took up his official red box, became deep in its
+      contents, and forgot all about the marriage of his daughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lumley pulled the check-string as the carriage entered Pall Mall, and
+      desired to be set down at &ldquo;The Travellers.&rdquo; While Lord Saxingham was borne
+      on to settle the affairs of the nation, not being able to settle those of
+      his own household, Ferrers was inquiring the address of Castruccio
+      Cesarini. The porter was unable to give it him. The Signor generally
+      called every day for his notes, but no one at the club knew where he
+      lodged. Ferrers wrote, and left with the porter a line requesting Cesarini
+      to call on him as soon as possible, and he bent his way to his house in
+      Great George Street. He went straight into his library, unlocked his
+      escritoire, and took out that letter which, the reader will remember,
+      Maltravers had written to Cesarini, and which Lumley had secured;
+      carefully did he twice read over this effusion, and the second time his
+      face brightened and his eyes sparkled. It is now time to lay this letter
+      before the reader: it ran thus:&mdash;
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+        <i>&ldquo;Private and confidential.&rdquo;</i>
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;MY DEAR CESARINI:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The assurance of your friendly feelings is most welcome to me. In much of
+      what you say of marriage, I am inclined, though with reluctance, to agree.
+      As to Lady Florence herself, few persons are more calculated to dazzle,
+      perhaps to fascinate. But is she a person to make a home happy&mdash;to
+      sympathise where she has been accustomed to command&mdash;to comprehend,
+      and to yield to the waywardness and irritability common to our fanciful
+      and morbid race&mdash;to content herself with the homage of a single
+      heart? I do not know her enough to decide the question; but I know her
+      enough to feel deep solicitude and anxiety for your happiness, if centred
+      in a nature so imperious and so vain. But you will remind me of her
+      fortune, her station. You will say that such are the sources from which,
+      to an ambitious mind, happiness may well be drawn! Alas! I fear that the
+      man who marries Lady Florence must indeed confine his dreams of felicity
+      to those harsh and disappointing realities. But, Cesarini, these are not
+      words which, were we more intimate, I would address to you. I doubt the
+      reality of those affections which you ascribe to her and suppose devoted
+      to yourself. She is evidently fond of conquest. She sports with the
+      victims she makes. Her vanity dupes others, perhaps to be duped itself at
+      last. I will not say more to you.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   &ldquo;Yours,
+     E. MALTRAVERS.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hurrah!&rdquo; cried Ferrers, as he threw down the letter, and rubbed his hands
+      with delight. &ldquo;I little thought, when I schemed for this letter, that
+      chance would make it so inestimably serviceable. There is less to alter
+      than I thought for&mdash;the clumsiest botcher in the world could manage
+      it. Let me look again. Hem, hem&mdash;the first phrase to alter is this:
+      &lsquo;I know her enough to feel deep solicitude and anxiety for <i>your</i>
+      happiness if centred in a nature so imperious and vain&rsquo;&mdash;scratch out
+      &lsquo;your,&rsquo; and put &lsquo;my.&rsquo; All the rest good, good&mdash;till we come to
+      &lsquo;affections which you ascribe to her, and suppose devoted to <i>yourself</i>&rsquo;&mdash;for
+      &lsquo;<i>yourself</i>&rsquo; write &lsquo;<i>myself</i>&rsquo;&mdash;the rest will do. Now, then,
+      the date&mdash;we must change it to the present month, and the work is
+      done. I wish that Italian blockhead would come. If I can but once make an
+      irreparable breach between her and Maltravers, I think I cannot fail of
+      securing his place; her pique, her resentment, will hurry her into taking
+      the first who offers, by way of revenge. And by Jupiter, even if I fail
+      (which I am sure I shall not), it will be something to keep Flory as lady
+      paramount for a duke of our own party. I shall gain immensely by such a
+      connection; but I lose everything and gain nothing by her marrying
+      Maltravers&mdash;of opposite politics too&mdash;whom I begin to hate like
+      poison. But no duke shall have her&mdash;Florence Ferrers, the only
+      alliteration I ever liked&mdash;yet it would sound rough in poetry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lumley then deliberately drew towards him his inkstand&mdash;&ldquo;No penknife!&mdash;Ah,
+      true, I never mend pens&mdash;sad waste&mdash;must send out for one.&rdquo; He
+      rang the bell, ordered a penknife to be purchased, and the servant was
+      still out when a knock at the door was heard, and in a minute more
+      Cesarini entered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said Lumley, assuming a melancholy air, &ldquo;I am glad that you are
+      arrived; you will excuse my having written to you so unceremoniously. You
+      received my note&mdash;sit down, pray&mdash;and how are you? you look
+      delicate&mdash;can I offer you anything?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wine,&rdquo; said Cesarini, laconically, &ldquo;wine; your climate requires wine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here the servant entered with the penknife, and was ordered to bring wine
+      and sandwiches. Lumley then conversed lightly on different matters till
+      the wine appeared; he was rather surprised to observe Cesarini pour out
+      and drink off glass upon glass, with an evident craving for the
+      excitement. When he had satisfied himself, he turned his dark eyes to
+      Ferrers, and said, &ldquo;You have news to communicate&mdash;I see it in your
+      brow. I am now ready to hear all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then listen to me; you were right in your suspicions; jealousy is
+      ever a true diviner. I make no doubt Othello was quite right, and
+      Desdemona was no better than she should be. Maltravers has proposed to my
+      cousin; and been accepted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cesarini&rsquo;s complexion grew perfectly ghastly; his whole frame shook like a
+      leaf&mdash;for a moment he seemed paralysed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Curse him!&rdquo; said he, at last, drawing a deep breath, and betwixt his
+      grinded teeth&mdash;&ldquo;curse him, from the depths of the heart he has
+      broken!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And after such a letter to you!&mdash;do you remember it?&mdash;here it
+      is. He warns you against Lady Florence, and then secures her to himself&mdash;is
+      this treachery?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Treachery black as hell! I am an Italian,&rdquo; cried Cesarini, springing to
+      his feet, and with all the passions of his climate in his face, &ldquo;and I
+      will be avenged! Bankrupt in fortune, ruined in hopes, blasted in heart&mdash;I
+      have still the godlike consolation of the desperate&mdash;I have revenge.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you call him out?&rdquo; asked Lumley, musingly and calmly. &ldquo;Are you a
+      dead shot? If so, it is worth thinking about; if not, it is a mockery&mdash;your
+      shot misses, his goes in the air, seconds interpose, and you both walk
+      away devilish glad to get off so well. Duels are humbug.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Ferrers,&rdquo; said Cesarini, fiercely, &ldquo;this is not a matter of jest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not make it a jest; and what is more, Cesarini,&rdquo; said Ferrers, with
+      a concentrated energy far more commanding than the Italian&rsquo;s fury, &ldquo;what
+      is more, I so detest Maltravers, I am so stung by his cold superiority, so
+      wroth with his success, so loathe the thought of his alliance, that I
+      would cut off this hand to frustrate that marriage! I do not jest, man;
+      but I have method and sense in my hatred&mdash;it is our English way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cesarini stared at the speaker gloomily, clenched his hand, and strode
+      rapidly to and fro the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You would be avenged, so would I. Now what shall be the means?&rdquo; said
+      Ferrers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will stab him to the heart&mdash;I will&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cease these tragic flights. Nay, frown and stamp not; but sit down, and
+      be reasonable, or leave me and act for yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; said Cesarini, with an eye that might have alarmed a man less
+      resolute than Ferrers, &ldquo;have a care how you presume on my distress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are in distress, and you refuse relief; you are bankrupt in fortune,
+      and you rave like a poet, when you should be devising and plotting for the
+      attainment of boundless wealth. Revenge and ambition may both be yours;
+      but they are prizes never won but by a cautious foot as well as a bold
+      hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What would you have me do? and what but his life would content me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take his life if you can&mdash;I have no objection&mdash;go and take it;
+      only just observe this, that if you miss your aim, or he, being the
+      stronger man, strike you down, you will be locked up in a madhouse for the
+      next year or two at least; and that is not the place in which I should
+      like to pass the winter&mdash;but as you will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You!&mdash;you!&mdash;But what are you to me? I will go. Good day, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stay a moment,&rdquo; said Ferrers, when he saw Cesarini about to leave the
+      room; &ldquo;stay, take this chair, and listen to me&mdash;you had better&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cesarini hesitated, and then, as it were, mechanically obeyed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Read that letter which Maltravers wrote to you. You have finished&mdash;well&mdash;now
+      observe&mdash;if Florence sees that letter she will not and cannot marry
+      the man who wrote it&mdash;you must show it to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, my guardian angel, I see it all! Yes, there are words in this letter
+      no woman so proud could ever pardon. Give me it again, I will go at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pshaw! You are too quick; you have not remarked that this letter was
+      written five months ago, before Maltravers knew much of Lady Florence. He
+      himself has confessed to her that he did not then love her&mdash;so much
+      the more would she value the conquest she has now achieved. Florence would
+      smile at this letter, and say, &lsquo;Ah, he judges me differently now.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you seeking to madden me? What do you mean? Did you not just now say
+      that, did she see that letter, she would never marry the writer?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes, but the letter must be altered. We must erase the date;&mdash;we
+      must date it from to-day;&mdash;to-day&mdash;Maltravers returns to-day. We
+      must suppose it written, not in answer to a letter from you, demanding his
+      advice and opinion as to your marriage with Lady Florence, but in answer
+      to a letter of yours in which you congratulate him on his approaching
+      marriage to her. By the substitution of one pronoun for another, in two
+      places, the letter will read as well one way as another. Read it again,
+      and see; or stop, I will be the lecturer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here Ferrers read over the letter, which, by the trifling substitutions he
+      proposed, might indeed bear the character he wished to give it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does the light break in upon you now?&rdquo; said Ferrers. &ldquo;Are you prepared to
+      go through a part that requires subtlety, delicacy, address, and, above
+      all, self-control?&mdash;qualities that are the common attributes of your
+      countrymen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will do all, fear me not. It may be villainous, it may be base; but I
+      care not, Maltravers shall not rival, master, eclipse me in all things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are you lodging?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where?&mdash;out of town a little way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take up your home with me for a few days. I cannot trust you out of my
+      sight. Send for your luggage; I have a room at your service.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cesarini at first refused; but a man who resolves on a crime feels the awe
+      of solitude, and the necessity of a companion. He went himself to bring
+      his effects, and promised to return to dinner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must own,&rdquo; said Lumley, resettling himself at his desk, &ldquo;this is the
+      dirtiest trick that ever I played; but the glorious end sanctifies the
+      paltry means. After all, it is the mere prejudice of gentlemanlike
+      education.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A very few seconds, and with the aid of the knife to erase, and the pen to
+      re-write, Ferrers completed his task, with the exception of the change of
+      date, which, on second thoughts, he reserved as a matter to be regulated
+      by circumstances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I have hit off his <i>m</i>&rsquo;s and <i>y</i>&rsquo;s tolerably,&rdquo; said he,
+      &ldquo;considering I was not brought up to this sort of thing. But the
+      alteration would be visible on close inspection. Cesarini must read the
+      letter to her, then if she glances over it herself it will be with
+      bewildered eyes and a dizzy brain. Above all, he must not leave it with
+      her, and must bind her to the closest secresy. She is honourable and will
+      keep her word; and so now that matter is settled. I have just time before
+      dinner to canter down to my uncle&rsquo;s and wish the old fellow joy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0064" id="link2HCH0064">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;And then my lord has much that he would state
+  All good to you.&rdquo;&mdash;CRABBE: <i>Tales of the Heart</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      LORD VARGRAVE was sitting alone in his library, with his account-books
+      before him. Carefully did he cast up the various sums which, invested in
+      various speculations, swelled his income. The result seemed satisfactory&mdash;and
+      the rich man threw down his pen with an air of triumph.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will invest L120,000 in land&mdash;only L120,000. I will not be tempted
+      to sink more. I will have a fine house&mdash;a house fitting for a
+      nobleman&mdash;a fine old Elizabethan house&mdash;a house of historical
+      interest. I must have woods and lakes&mdash;and a deer-park, above all.
+      Deer are very gentlemanlike things, very. De Clifford&rsquo;s place is to be
+      sold, I know; they ask too much for it, but ready money is tempting. I can
+      bargain&mdash;bargain, I am a good hand at a bargain. Should I be now Lord
+      Baron Vargrave, if I had always given people what they asked? I will
+      double my subscriptions to the Bible Society and the Philanthropic, and
+      the building of new churches. The world shall not say Richard Templeton
+      does not deserve his greatness. I will&mdash;Come in. Who&rsquo;s there?&mdash;come
+      in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The door gently opened&mdash;the meek face of the new peeress appeared. &ldquo;I
+      disturb you&mdash;I beg your pardon&mdash;I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come in, my dear, come in&mdash;I want to talk to you&mdash;I want to
+      talk to your ladyship&mdash;sit down, pray.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Vargrave obeyed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see,&rdquo; said the peer, crossing his legs, and caressing his left foot
+      with both hands, while he see-sawed his stately person to and fro in his
+      chair&mdash;&ldquo;you see that the honour conferred upon me will make a great
+      change in our mode of life, Mrs. Temple&mdash;I mean Lady Vargrave. This
+      villa is all very well&mdash;my country house is not amiss for a country
+      gentleman&mdash;but now we must support our rank. The landed estate I
+      already possess will go with the title&mdash;go to Lumley&mdash;I shall
+      buy another at my own disposal, one that I can feel <i>thoroughly mine</i>&mdash;it
+      shall be a splendid place, Lady Vargrave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This place is splendid to me,&rdquo; said Lady Vargrave, timidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This place&mdash;nonsense&mdash;you must learn loftier ideas, Lady
+      Vargrave; you are young, you can easily contract new habits, more, easily,
+      perhaps, than myself. You are naturally ladylike, though I say it&mdash;you
+      have good taste, you don&rsquo;t talk much, you don&rsquo;t show your ignorance&mdash;quite
+      right. You must be presented at court, Lady Vargrave&mdash;we must give
+      great dinners, Lady Vargrave. Balls are sinful, so is the opera, at least
+      I fear so&mdash;yet an opera-box would be a proper appendage to your rank,
+      Lady Vargrave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Mr. Templeton&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lord Vargrave, if your ladyship pleases.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg pardon. May you live long to enjoy your honours; but I, my dear
+      lord&mdash;I am not fit to share them: it is only in our quiet life that I
+      can forget what&mdash;what I was. You terrify me when you talk of court&mdash;of&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stuff, Lady Vargrave! stuff; we accustom ourselves to these things. Do I
+      look like a man who has stood behind a counter? rank is a glove that
+      stretches to the hand that wears it. And the child, dear child,&mdash;dear
+      Evelyn, she shall be the admiration of London, the beauty, the heiress,
+      the&mdash;oh, she will do me honour!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She will, she will!&rdquo; said Lady Vargrave, and the tears gushed from her
+      eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Vargrave was softened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No mother ever deserved more from a child than you from Evelyn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would hope I have done my duty,&rdquo; said Lady Vargrave, drying her tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Papa, papa!&rdquo; cried an impatient voice, tapping at the window, &ldquo;come and
+      play, papa&mdash;come and play at ball, papa!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And there, by the window, stood that beautiful child, glowing with health
+      and mirth&mdash;her light hair tossed from her forehead, her sweet mouth
+      dimpled with smiles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My darling, go on the lawn,&mdash;don&rsquo;t over-exert yourself&mdash;you
+      have not quite recovered that horrid sprain&mdash;I will join you
+      immediately&mdash;bless you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be long, papa&mdash;nobody plays so nicely as you do;&rdquo; and, nodding
+      and laughing from very glee, away scampered the young fairy. Lord Vargrave
+      turned to his wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What think you of my nephew&mdash;of Lumley?&rdquo; said he, abruptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He seems all that is amiable, frank, and kind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Vargrave&rsquo;s brow became thoughtful. &ldquo;I think so too,&rdquo; he said, after a
+      short pause; &ldquo;and I hope you will approve of what I mean to do. You see
+      Lumley was brought up to regard himself as my heir&mdash;I owe something
+      to him, beyond the poor estate which goes with, but never can adequately
+      support, <i>my</i> title. Family honours, hereditary rank, must be
+      properly regarded. But that dear girl&mdash;I shall leave her the bulk of
+      my fortune. Could we not unite the fortune and the title? It would secure
+      the rank to her, it would incorporate all my desires&mdash;all my duties.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said Lady Vargrave, with evident surprise, &ldquo;if I understand you
+      rightly, the disparity of years&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what then, what then, Lady Vargrave? Is there no disparity of years
+      between <i>us</i>?&mdash;a greater disparity than between Lumley and that
+      tall girl. Lumley is a mere youth, a youth still, five-and-thirty; he will
+      be little more than forty when they marry; I was between fifty and sixty
+      when I married you, Lady Vargrave. I don&rsquo;t like boy and girl marriages: a
+      man should be older than his wife. But you are so romantic, Lady Vargrave.
+      Besides, Lumley is so gay and good-looking, and wears so well. He has been
+      very nearly forming another attachment; but that, I trust, is out of his
+      head now. They must like each other. You will not gainsay me, Lady
+      Vargrave, and if anything happens to me&mdash;life is uncertain&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, do not speak so&mdash;my friend, my benefactor!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, indeed,&rdquo; resumed his lordship, mildly, &ldquo;thank Heaven, I am very well&mdash;feel
+      younger than ever I did&mdash;but still life is uncertain; and if you
+      survive me, you will not throw obstacles in the way of my grand scheme?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;no,&mdash;no&mdash;of course you have the right in all things
+      over her destiny; but so young&mdash;so soft-hearted, if she should love
+      one of her own years&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Love!&mdash;pooh! love does not come into girls&rsquo; heads unless it is put
+      there. We will bring her up to love Lumley. I have another reason&mdash;a
+      cogent one&mdash;our secret!&mdash;to him it can be confided&mdash;it
+      should not go out of our family. Even in my grave I could not rest if a
+      slur were cast on my respectability&mdash;my name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Vargrave spoke solemnly and warmly; then muttering to himself, &ldquo;Yes,
+      it is for the best,&rdquo; he took up his hat and quitted the room. He joined
+      his stepchild on the lawn. He romped with her&mdash;he played with her&mdash;that
+      stiff, stately man!&mdash;he laughed louder than she did, and ran almost
+      as fast. And when she was fatigued and breathless, he made her sit down
+      beside him, in a little summer-house, and, fondly stroking down her
+      disordered tresses, said, &ldquo;You tire me out, child; I am growing too old to
+      play with you. Lumley must supply my place. You love Lumley?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dearly, he is so good-humoured, so kind: he has given me such a
+      beautiful doll, with such eyes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You shall be his little wife&mdash;you would like to be his little wife?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wife! why, poor mamma is a wife, and she is not so happy as I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your mamma has bad health, my dear,&rdquo; said Lord Vargrave, a little
+      discomposed. &ldquo;But it is a fine thing to be a wife and have a carriage of
+      your own, and a fine house, and jewels, and plenty of money, and be your
+      own mistress; and Lumley will love you dearly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, I should like all that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you will have a protector, child, when I am no more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The tone, rather than the words, of her stepfather struck a damp into that
+      childish heart. Evelyn lifted her eyes, gazed at him earnestly, and then,
+      throwing her arms round him, burst into tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Vargrave wiped his own eyes, and covered her with kisses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you shall be Lumley&rsquo;s wife, his honoured wife, heiress to my rank as
+      to my fortunes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will do all that papa wishes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will be Lady Vargrave, then, and Lumley will be your husband,&rdquo; said
+      the stepfather, impressively. &ldquo;Think over what I have said. Now let us
+      join mamma. But, as I live, here is Lumley himself. However, it is not yet
+      the time to sound him:&mdash;I hope that he has no chance with that Lady
+      Florence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0065" id="link2HCH0065">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+          &ldquo;Fair encounter
+  Of two most rare affections.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Tempest</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      MEANWHILE the betrothed were on their road to London. The balmy and serene
+      beauty of the day had induced them to perform the short journey on
+      horseback. It is somewhere said, that lovers are never so handsome as in
+      each other&rsquo;s company, and neither Florence nor Ernest ever looked so well
+      as on horseback. There was something in the stateliness and grace of both,
+      something even in the aquiline outline of their features and the haughty
+      bend of the neck, that made a sort of likeness between these young
+      persons, although there was no comparison as to their relative degrees of
+      personal advantage: the beauty of Florence defied all comparison. And as
+      they rode from Cleveland&rsquo;s porch, where the other guests yet lingering
+      were assembled to give the farewell greeting, there was a general
+      conviction of the happiness destined to the affianced ones,&mdash;a
+      general impression that both in mind and person they were eminently suited
+      to each other. Their position was that which is ever interesting, even in
+      more ordinary people, and at that moment they were absolutely popular with
+      all who gazed on them; and when the good old Cleveland turned away with
+      tears in his eyes and murmured &ldquo;Bless them!&rdquo; there was not one of the
+      party who would have hesitated to join the prayer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence felt a nameless dejection as she quitted a spot so consecrated by
+      grateful recollections.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When shall we be again so happy?&rdquo; said she, softly, as she turned back to
+      gaze upon the landscape, which, gay with flowers and shrubs, and the
+      bright English verdure, smiled behind them like a garden.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will try and make my old hall, and its gloomy shades, remind us of
+      these fairer scenes, my Florence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! describe to me the character of your place. We shall live there
+      principally, shall we not? I am sure I shall like it much better than
+      Marsden Court, which is the name of that huge pile of arches and columns
+      in Vanbrugh&rsquo;s heaviest taste, which will soon be yours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fear we shall never dispose of all your mighty retinue, grooms of the
+      chamber, and Patagonian footmen, and Heaven knows who besides, in the
+      holes and corners of Burleigh,&rdquo; said Ernest smiling. And then he went on
+      to describe the old place with something of a well-born country
+      gentleman&rsquo;s not displeasing pride; and Florence listened, and they
+      planned, and altered, and added, and improved, and laid out a map for the
+      future. From that topic they turned to another, equally interesting to
+      Florence. The work in which Maltravers had been engaged was completed, was
+      in the hands of the printer, and Florence amused herself with conjectures
+      as to the criticisms it would provoke. She was certain that all that had
+      most pleased her would be <i>caviare</i> to the multitude. She never would
+      believe that any one could understand Maltravers but herself. Thus time
+      flew on till they passed that part of the road in which had occurred
+      Ernest&rsquo;s adventure with Mrs. Templeton&rsquo;s daughter. Maltravers paused
+      abruptly in the midst of his glowing periods, as the spot awakened its
+      associations and reminiscences, and looked round anxiously and
+      inquiringly. But the fair apparition was not again visible; and whatever
+      impression the place produced, it gradually died away as they entered the
+      suburbs of the great metropolis. Two other gentlemen and a young lady of
+      thirty-three (I had almost forgotten them) were of the party, but they had
+      the tact to linger a little behind during the greater part of the road,
+      and the young lady, who was a wit and a flirt, found gossip and sentiment
+      for both the cavaliers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you come to us this evening?&rdquo; asked Florence, timidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fear I shall not be able. I have several matters to arrange before I
+      leave town for Burleigh, which I must do next week. Three months, dearest
+      Florence, will scarcely suffice to make Burleigh put on its best looks to
+      greet its new mistress; and I have already appointed the great modern
+      magicians of draperies and ormolu to consult how we may make Aladdin&rsquo;s
+      palace fit for the reception of the new princess. Lawyers, too!&mdash;in
+      short, I expect to be fully occupied. But to-morrow, at three, I shall be
+      with you, and we can ride out, if the day be fine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely,&rdquo; said Florence, &ldquo;yonder is Signor Cesarini&mdash;how haggard and
+      altered he appears!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers, turning his eyes towards the spot to which Florence pointed,
+      saw Cesarini emerging from a lane, with a porter behind him carrying some
+      books and a trunk. The Italian, who was talking and gesticulating as to
+      himself, did not perceive them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor Castruccio! he seems leaving his lodging,&rdquo; thought Maltravers. &ldquo;By
+      this time I fear he will have spent the last sum I conveyed to him&mdash;I
+      must remember to find him out and replenish his stores.&mdash;Do not
+      forget,&rdquo; said he aloud, &ldquo;to see Cesarini, and urge him to accept the
+      appointment we spoke of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will not forget it&mdash;I will see him to-morrow before we meet. Yet
+      it is a painful task, Ernest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I allow it. Alas! Florence, you owe him some reparation. He undoubtedly
+      once conceived himself entitled to form hopes the vanity of which his
+      ignorance of our English world and his foreign birth prevented him from
+      suspecting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Believe me, I did not give him the right to form such expectations.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you did not sufficiently discourage them. Ah, Florence, never
+      underrate the pangs of hope crushed, of love contemned.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dreadful!&rdquo; said Florence, almost shuddering. &ldquo;It is strange, but my
+      conscience never so smote me before. It is since I loved that I feel, for
+      the first time, how guilty a creature is&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A coquette!&rdquo; interrupted Maltravers. &ldquo;Well, let us think of the past no
+      more; but if we can restore a gifted man, whose youth promised much, to an
+      honourable independence and a healthful mind, let us do so. Me, Cesarini
+      never can forgive; he will think I have robbed him of you. But we men&mdash;the
+      woman we have once loved, even after she rejects us, ever has some power
+      over us, and your eloquence, which has so often roused me, cannot fail to
+      impress a nature yet more excitable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers, on quitting Florence at her own door, went home, summoned his
+      favourite servant, gave him Cesarini&rsquo;s address at Chelsea, bade him find
+      out where he was, if he had left his lodgings; and leave at his present
+      home, or (failing its discovery) at the &ldquo;Travellers,&rdquo; a cover, which he
+      made his servant address, inclosing a bank-note of some amount. If the
+      reader wonder why Maltravers thus constituted himself the unknown
+      benefactor of the Italian, I must tell him that he does not understand
+      Maltravers. Cesarini was not the only man of letters whose faults he
+      pitied, whose wants he relieved. Though his name seldom shone in the
+      pompous list of public subscriptions&mdash;though he disdained to affect
+      the Maecenas and the patron, he felt the brotherhood of mankind, and a
+      kind of gratitude for those who aspired to rise or to delight their
+      species. An author himself, he could appreciate the vast debt which the
+      world owes to authors, and pays but by calumny in life and barren laurels
+      after death. He whose profession is the Beautiful succeeds only through
+      the Sympathies. Charity and compassion are virtues taught with difficulty
+      to ordinary men; to true genius they are but the instincts which direct it
+      to the destiny it is born to fulfil-viz., the discovery and redemption of
+      new tracts in our common nature. Genius&mdash;the Sublime Missionary&mdash;goes
+      forth from the serene Intellect of the Author to live in the wants, the
+      griefs, the infirmities of others, in order that it may learn their
+      language; and as its highest achievement is Pathos, so its most absolute
+      requisite is Pity!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0066" id="link2HCH0066">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;<i>Don John.</i> How canst thou cross this marriage?
+
+ &ldquo;<i>Borachio.</i> Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly, that no
+  dishonesty shall appear in me, my lord.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Much Ado about Nothing</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      FERRERS and Cesarini were both sitting over their wine, and both had sunk
+      into silence, for they had only one subject in common, when a note was
+      brought to Lumley from Lady Florence.&mdash;&ldquo;This is lucky enough!&rdquo; said
+      he, as he read it. &ldquo;Lady Florence wishes to see you, and incloses me a
+      note for you, which she asks me to address and forward to you. There it
+      is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cesarini took the note with trembling hands: it was very short, and merely
+      expressed a desire to see him the next day at two o&rsquo;clock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What can it be?&rdquo; he exclaimed; &ldquo;can she want to apologise, to explain?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, no! Florence will not do that; but, from certain words she
+      dropped in talking with me, I guess that she has some offer to your
+      worldly advantage to propose to you. Ha! by the way, a thought strikes
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lumley eagerly rang the bell. &ldquo;Is Lady Florence&rsquo;s servant waiting for an
+      answer?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well&mdash;detain him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Cesarini, assurance is made doubly sure. Come into the next room.
+      There, sit down at my desk, and write, as I shall dictate, to Maltravers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, now do put yourself in my hands&mdash;write, write. When you have
+      finished, I will explain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cesarini obeyed, and the letter was as follows:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR MALTRAVERS,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have learned your approaching marriage with Lady Florence Lascelles.
+      Permit me to congratulate you. For myself, I have overcome a vain and
+      foolish passion; and can contemplate your happiness without a sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have reviewed all my old prejudices against marriage, and believe it to
+      be a state which nothing but the most perfect congeniality of temper,
+      pursuits, and minds, can render bearable. How rare is such congeniality!
+      In your case it may exist. The affections of that beautiful being are
+      doubtless ardent&mdash;and they are yours!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Write me a line by the bearer to assure me of your belief in my
+      sincerity.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   &ldquo;Yours,
+
+     &ldquo;C. CESARINI.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Copy out this letter, I want its ditto&mdash;quick. Now seal and direct
+      the duplicate,&rdquo; continued Ferrers; &ldquo;that&rsquo;s right; go into the hall, give
+      it yourself to Lady Florence&rsquo;s servant, and beg him to take it to Seamore
+      Place, wait for an answer, and bring it here; by which time you will have
+      a note ready for Lady Florence. Say I will mention this to her ladyship,
+      and give the man half-a-crown. There, begone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not understand a word of this,&rdquo; said Cesarini, when he returned:
+      &ldquo;will you explain?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly; the copy of the note you have despatched to Maltravers I shall
+      show to Lady Florence this evening, as a proof of your sobered and
+      generous feelings; observe, it is so written, that the old letter of your
+      rival may seem an exact reply to it. To-morrow a reference to this note of
+      yours will bring out our scheme more easily; and if you follow my
+      instructions, you will not seem to <i>volunteer</i> showing our handiwork,
+      as we at first intended; but rather to yield it to her eyes, from a
+      generous impulse, from an irresistible desire to save her from an unworthy
+      husband and a wretched fate. Fortune has been dealing our cards for us,
+      and has turned up the ace. Three to one now on the odd trick. Maltravers,
+      too, is at home. I called at his house, on returning from my uncle&rsquo;s, and
+      learned that he would not stir out all the evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In due time came the answer from Ernest: it was short and hurried; but
+      full of all the manly kindness of his nature; it expressed admiration and
+      delight at the tone of Cesarini&rsquo;s letter; it revoked all former
+      expressions derogatory to Lady Florence; it owned the harshness and error
+      of his first impressions; it used every delicate argument that could
+      soothe and reconcile Cesarini; and concluded by sentiments of friendship
+      and desire of service, so cordial, so honest, so free from the affectation
+      of patronage, that even Cesarini himself, half insane as he was with
+      passion, was almost softened. Lumley saw the change in his countenance&mdash;snatched
+      the letter from his hand&mdash;read it&mdash;threw it into the fire&mdash;and
+      saying, &ldquo;We must guard against accidents,&rdquo; clapped the Italian
+      affectionately on the shoulder, and added, &ldquo;Now you can have no remorse;
+      for a more Jesuitical piece of insulting hypocritical cant I never read.
+      Where&rsquo;s your note to Lady Florence? Your compliments, you will be with her
+      at two. There, now the rehearsal&rsquo;s over, the scenes arranged, and I&rsquo;ll
+      dress, and open the play for you with a prologue.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0067" id="link2HCH0067">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VIII.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+       &ldquo;Aestuat ingens
+  Imo in corde pudor, mixtoque insania luctu,
+  Et furiis agitatus amor, et conscia virtus.&rdquo; *&mdash;VIRGIL.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      * Deep in her inmost heart is stirred the immense shame, and madness with
+      commingled grief, and love agitated by rage, and conscious virtue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      THE next day, punctual to his appointment, Cesarini repaired to his
+      critical interview with Lady Florence. Her countenance, which, like that
+      of most persons whose temper is not under their command, ever too
+      faithfully expressed what was within, was unusually flushed. Lumley had
+      dropped words and hints which had driven sleep from her pillow and repose
+      from her mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She rose from her seat with nervous agitation as Cesarini entered and made
+      his grave salutation. After a short and embarrassed pause, she recovered,
+      however, her self-possession, and with all a woman&rsquo;s delicate and
+      dexterous tact, urged upon the Italian the expediency of accepting the
+      offer of honourable independence now extended to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have abilities,&rdquo; she said, in conclusion, &ldquo;you have friends, you have
+      youth; take advantage of those gifts of nature and fortune, and fulfil
+      such a career as,&rdquo; added Lady Florence, with a smile, &ldquo;Dante did not
+      consider incompatible with poetry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot object to any career,&rdquo; said Cesarini, with an effort, &ldquo;that may
+      serve to remove me from a country that has no longer any charms for me. I
+      thank you for your kindness; I will obey you. May you be happy; and yet&mdash;no,
+      ah! no&mdash;happy you must be! Even he, sooner or later, must see you
+      with my eyes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know,&rdquo; replied Florence, falteringly, &ldquo;that you have wisely and
+      generously mastered a past illusion. Mr. Ferrers allowed me to see the
+      letter you wrote to Er&mdash;-to Mr. Maltravers; it was worthy of you: it
+      touched me deeply; but I trust you will outlive your prejudices against&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stay,&rdquo; interrupted Cesarini; &ldquo;did Ferrers communicate to you the answer
+      to that letter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no matter. Heaven bless you; farewell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I implore you, do not go yet; what was there in that letter that it
+      could pain me to see? Lumley hinted darkly; but would not speak out: be
+      more frank.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot: it would be treachery to Maltravers, cruelty to you; yet would
+      it be cruel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it would not; it would be kindness and mercy; show me the letter&mdash;you
+      have it with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You could not bear it; you would hate me for the pain it would give you.
+      Let me depart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Man, you wrong Maltravers. I see it now. You would darkly slander him
+      whom you cannot openly defame. Go; I was wrong to listen to you&mdash;go!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lady Florence, beware how you taunt me into undeceiving you. Here is the
+      letter, it is his handwriting; will you read it? I warn you not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will believe nothing but the evidence of my own eyes; give it me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stay then; on two conditions. First, that you promise me sacredly that
+      you will not disclose to Maltravers, without my consent, that you have
+      seen this letter. Think not I fear his anger. No! but in the mortal
+      encounter that must ensue, if you thus betray me, your character would be
+      lowered in the world&rsquo;s eyes, and even I (my excuse unknown) might not
+      appear to have acted with honour in obeying your desire, and warning you,
+      while there is yet time, of bartering love for avarice. Promise me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do, I do most solemnly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Secondly, assure me that you will not ask to keep the letter, but will
+      immediately restore it to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I promise it. Now then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take the letter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence seized and rapidly read the fatal and garbled document: her brain
+      was dizzy, her eyes clouded, her ears rang as with the sound of water, she
+      was sick and giddy with emotion; but she read enough. This letter was
+      written, then, in answer to Castruccio&rsquo;s of last night; it avowed dislike
+      of her character; it denied the sincerity of her love; it more than hinted
+      the mercenary nature of his own feelings. Yes, even there, where she had
+      garnered up her heart, she was not Florence, the lovely and beloved woman;
+      but Florence, the wealthy and high-born heiress. The world which she had
+      built upon the faith and heart of Maltravers crumbled away at her feet.
+      The letter dropped from her hands; her whole form seemed to shrink and
+      shrivel up; her teeth were set, and her cheek was as white as marble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O God!&rdquo; cried Cesarini, stung with remorse. &ldquo;Speak to me, speak to me,
+      Florence! I did wrong; forget that hateful letter! I have been false&mdash;false!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, false&mdash;say so again&mdash;no, no, I remember he told me&mdash;he,
+      so wise, so deep a judge of human character, that he would be sponsor for
+      your faith&mdash;, that your honour and heart were incorruptible. It is
+      true; I thank you&mdash;you have saved me from a terrible fate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O, Lady Florence, dear&mdash;too dear&mdash;yet, would that&mdash;alas!
+      she does not listen to me,&rdquo; muttered Castruccio, as Florence, pressing her
+      hands to her temples, walked wildly to and fro the room. At length she
+      paused opposite to Cesarini, looked him full in the face, returned him the
+      letter without a word, and pointed to the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, do not bid me leave you yet,&rdquo; said Cesarini, trembling with
+      repentant emotion, yet half beside himself with jealous rage at her love
+      for his rival.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My friend, go,&rdquo; said Florence, in a tone of voice singularly subdued and
+      soft. &ldquo;Do not fear me; I have more pride in me than even affection; but
+      there are certain struggles in a woman&rsquo;s breast which she could never
+      betray to any one&mdash;any one but a mother. God help me, I have none!
+      Go; when next we meet, I shall be calm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She held out her hand as she spoke, the Italian dropped on his knee,
+      kissed it convulsively, and, fearful of trusting himself further, vanished
+      from the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had not been long gone before Maltravers was seen riding through the
+      street. As he threw himself from his horse, he looked up at the window,
+      and kissed his hand at Lady Florence, who stood there watching his
+      arrival, with feelings indeed far different from those he anticipated. He
+      entered the room lightly and gaily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence stirred not to welcome him. He approached and took her hand; she
+      withdrew it with a shudder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you not well, Florence?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am well, for I have recovered.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean? why do you turn from me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Florence fixed her eyes on him, eyes that literally blazed; her lip
+      quivered with scorn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Maltravers, at length I know you. I understand the feelings with
+      which you have sought a union between us. O God! why, why was I thus
+      cursed with riches&mdash;why made a thing of barter and merchandise, and
+      avarice, and low ambition? Take my wealth, take it, Mr. Maltravers, since
+      that is what you prize. Heaven knows I can cast it willingly away; but
+      leave the wretch whom you long deceived, and who now, wretch though she
+      be, renounces and despises you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lady Florence, do I hear aright? Who has accused me to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None, sir, none; I would have believed none. Let it suffice that I am
+      convinced that our union can be happy to neither: question me no further;
+      all intercourse between us is for ever over!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pause,&rdquo; said Maltravers, with cold and grave solemnity; &ldquo;another word,
+      and the gulf will become impassable. Pause.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not,&rdquo; exclaimed the unhappy lady, stung by what she considered the
+      assurance of a hardened hypocrisy&mdash;&ldquo;do not affect this haughty
+      superiority; it dupes me no longer. I was your slave while I loved you:
+      the tie is broken. I am free, and I hate and scorn you! Mercenary and
+      sordid as you are, your baseness of spirit revives the differences of our
+      rank. Henceforth, Mr. Maltravers, I am Lady Florence Lascelles, and by
+      that title alone will you know me. Begone, Sir!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As she spoke, with passion distorting every feature of her face, all her
+      beauty vanished away from the eyes of the proud Maltravers, as if by
+      witchcraft: the angel seemed transformed into the fury; and cold, bitter,
+      and withering was the eye which he fixed upon that altered countenance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mark me, Lady Florence Lascelles,&rdquo; said he, very calmly, &ldquo;you have now
+      said what you can never recall. Neither in man nor in woman did Ernest
+      Maltravers ever forget or forgive a sentence which accused him of
+      dishonour. I bid you farewell for ever; and with my last words I condemn
+      you to the darkest of all dooms&mdash;the remorse that comes too late!&rdquo;
+       Slowly he moved away; and as the door closed upon that towering and
+      haughty form, Florence already felt that his curse was working to its
+      fulfilment. She rushed to the window&mdash;she caught one last glimpse of
+      him as his horse bore him rapidly away. Ah! when shall they meet again?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0068" id="link2HCH0068">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IX.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;And now I live&mdash;O wherefore do I live?
+  And with that pang I prayed to be no more.&rdquo;
+           WORDSWORTH.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      IT was about nine o&rsquo;clock that evening, and Maltravers was alone in his
+      room. His carriage was at the door&mdash;his servants were arranging the
+      luggage&mdash;he was going that night to Burleigh. London&mdash;society-the
+      world&mdash;were grown hateful to him. His galled and indignant spirit
+      demanded solitude. At this time, Lumley Ferrers entered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will pardon my intrusion,&rdquo; said the latter, with his usual frankness&mdash;&ldquo;but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what, sir? I am engaged.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall be very brief. Maltravers, you are my old friend. I retain regard
+      and affection for you, though our different habits have of late estranged
+      us. I come to you from my cousin&mdash;from Florence&mdash;there has been
+      some misunderstanding between you. I called on her to-day after you left
+      the house. Her grief affected me. I have only just quitted her. She has
+      been told by some gossip or other some story or other&mdash;women are
+      credulous, foolish creatures;&mdash;undeceive her, and, I dare say, all
+      may be settled.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ferrers, if a man had spoken to me as Lady Florence did, his blood or
+      mine must have flowed. And do you think that words that might have plunged
+      me into the guilt of homicide if uttered by a man, I could ever pardon in
+      one whom I had dreamed of for a wife? Never!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pooh, pooh&mdash;women&rsquo;s words are wind. Don&rsquo;t throw away so splendid a
+      match for such a trifle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you too, sir, mean to impute mercenary motives to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heaven forbid! You know I am no coward, but I really don&rsquo;t want to fight
+      you. Come, be reasonable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare say you mean well, but the breach is final&mdash;all recurrence to
+      it is painful and superfluous. I must wish you good evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have positively decided?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Even if Lady Florence made the <i>amende honorable</i>?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing on the part of Lady Florence could alter my resolution. The woman
+      whom an honourable man&mdash;an English gentleman&mdash;makes the partner
+      of his life, ought never to listen to a syllable against his fair name:
+      his honour is hers, and if her lips, that should breathe comfort in
+      calumny, only serve to retail the lie&mdash;she may be beautiful, gifted,
+      wealthy, and high-born, but he takes a curse to his arms. That curse I
+      have escaped.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And this I am to say to my cousin?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you will. And now stay, Lumley Ferrers, and hear me. I neither accuse
+      nor suspect you, I desire not to pierce your heart, and in this case I
+      cannot fathom your motives; but if it should so have happened that you
+      have, in any way, ministered to Lady Florence Lascelles&rsquo; injurious
+      opinions of my faith and honour, you will have much to answer for, and
+      sooner or later there will come a day of reckoning between you and me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Maltravers, there can be no quarrel between us, with my cousin&rsquo;s fair
+      name at stake, or else we should not now part without preparations for a
+      more hostile meeting. I can bear your language. <i>I</i>, too, though no
+      philosopher, can forgive. Come, man, you are heated&mdash;it is very
+      natural;&mdash;let us part friends&mdash;your hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you can take my hand, Lumley, you are innocent, and I have wronged
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lumley smiled, and cordially pressed the hand of his old friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he descended the stairs, Maltravers followed, and just as Lumley turned
+      into Curzon Street, the carriage whirled rapidly past him, and by the
+      lamps he saw the pale and stern face of Maltravers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a slow, drizzling rain,&mdash;one of those unwholesome nights
+      frequent in London towards the end of autumn. Ferrers, however, insensible
+      to the weather, walked slowly and thoughtfully towards his cousin&rsquo;s house.
+      He was playing for a mighty stake, and hitherto the cast was in his
+      favour, yet he was uneasy and perturbed. His conscience was tolerably
+      proof to all compunction, as much from the levity as from the strength of
+      his nature; and (Maltravers removed) he trusted in his knowledge of the
+      human heart, and the smooth speciousness of his manner, to win, at last,
+      in the hand of Lady Florence, the object of his ambition. It was not on
+      her affection, it was on her pique, her resentment, that he relied. &ldquo;When
+      a woman fancies herself slighted by the man she loves, the first person
+      who proposes must be a clumsy wooer indeed, if he does not carry her
+      away.&rdquo; So reasoned Ferrers, but yet he was ruffled and disquieted; the
+      truth must be spoken,&mdash;able, bold, sanguine, and scornful as he was,
+      his spirit quailed before that of Maltravers; he feared the lion of that
+      nature when fairly aroused: his own character had in it something of a
+      woman&rsquo;s&mdash;an unprincipled, gifted, aspiring, and subtle woman&rsquo;s,&mdash;and
+      in Maltravers&mdash;stern, simple, and masculine&mdash;he recognised the
+      superior dignity of the &ldquo;lords of the creation;&rdquo; he was overawed by the
+      anticipation of a wrath and revenge which he felt he merited, and which he
+      feared might be deadly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While gradually, however, his spirit recovered its usual elasticity, he
+      came in the vicinity of Lord Saxingham&rsquo;s house, and suddenly, by a corner
+      of the street, his arm was seized: to his inexpressible astonishment he
+      recognised in the muffled figure that accosted him the form of Florence
+      Lascelles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good heavens!&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;is it possible?&mdash;You, alone in the
+      streets, at this hour, in such a night, too! How very wrong&mdash;how very
+      imprudent!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not talk to me&mdash;I am almost mad as it is: I could not rest&mdash;I
+      could not brave quiet, solitude,&mdash;still less, the face of my father&mdash;I
+      could not!&mdash;but quick, what says he?&mdash;What excuse has he? Tell
+      me everything&mdash;I will cling to a straw.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And is this the proud Florence Lascelles?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&mdash;it is the humbled Florence Lascelles. I have done with pride&mdash;speak
+      to me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, what a treasure is such a heart! How can he throw it away?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does he deny?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He denies nothing&mdash;he expresses himself rejoiced to have escaped&mdash;such
+      was his expression&mdash;a marriage in which his heart never was engaged.
+      He is unworthy of you&mdash;forget him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence shivered, and as Ferrers drew her arm in his own, her ungloved
+      hand touched his, and the touch was like that of ice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What will the servants think?&mdash;what excuse can we make?&rdquo; said
+      Ferrers, when they stood beneath the porch. Florence did not reply; but as
+      the door opened, she said softly,&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am ill&mdash;ill,&rdquo; and clung to Ferrers with that unnerved and heavy
+      weight which betokens faintness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The light glared on her&mdash;the faces of the lacqueys betokened their
+      undisguised astonishment. With a violent effort, Florence recovered
+      herself, for she had not yet done with pride, swept through the hall with
+      her usual stately step, slowly ascended the broad staircase, and gained
+      the solitude of her own room, to fall senseless on the floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0080" id="link2H_4_0080">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      BOOK IX.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  I go, the bride of Acheron.&mdash;SOPH. <i>Antig.</i>
+
+  These things are in the Future.&mdash;<i>Ib.</i> 1333.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0069" id="link2HCH0069">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  * * * &ldquo;There the action lies
+  In its true nature * * * *
+  * * *  What then? What rests?
+  Try what repentance can!&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Hamlet</i>.
+
+ &ldquo;I doubt he will be dead or ere I come.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>King John</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      IT was a fine afternoon in December, when Lumley Ferrers turned from Lord
+      Saxingham&rsquo;s door. The knockers were muffled&mdash;the windows on the third
+      story were partially closed. There was sickness in that house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lumley&rsquo;s face was unusually grave; it was even sad. &ldquo;So young&mdash;so
+      beautiful,&rdquo; he muttered. &ldquo;If ever I loved woman, I do believe I loved her:&mdash;that
+      love must be my excuse.... I repent of what I have done&mdash;but I could
+      not foresee that a mere lover&rsquo;s stratagem was to end in such effects&mdash;the
+      metaphysician was very right when he said, &lsquo;We only sympathise with
+      feelings we know ourselves.&rsquo; A little disappointment in love could not
+      have hurt me much&mdash;it is d&mdash;&mdash;d odd it should hurt her so.
+      I am altogether out of luck: old Templeton&mdash;I beg his pardon, Lord
+      Vargrave&mdash;(by-the-by, he gets heartier every day&mdash;what a
+      constitution he has!) seems cross with me. He did not like the idea that I
+      should marry Lady Florence&mdash;and when I thought that vision might have
+      been realised, hinted that I was disappointing some expectations he had
+      formed; I can&rsquo;t make out what he means. Then, too, the government have
+      offered that place to Maltravers instead of to me. In fact, my star is not
+      in the ascendant. Poor Florence, though,&mdash;I would really give a great
+      deal to know her restored to health!&mdash;I have done a villainous thing,
+      but I thought it only a clever one. However, regret is a fool&rsquo;s passion.
+      By Jupiter!&mdash;talking of fools, here comes Cesarini.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Wan, haggard, almost spectral, his hat over his brows, his dress
+      neglected, his air reckless and fierce, Cesarini crossed the way, and thus
+      accosted Lumley:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have murdered her, Ferrers; and her ghost will haunt us to our dying
+      day!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Talk prose; you know I am no poet. What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is worse to-day,&rdquo; groaned Cesarini, in a hollow voice. &ldquo;I wander like
+      a lost spirit round the house; I question all who come from it. Tell me&mdash;oh,
+      tell me, is there hope?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do, indeed, trust so,&rdquo; replied Ferrers, fervently. &ldquo;The illness has
+      only of late assumed an alarming appearance. At first it was merely a
+      severe cold, caught by imprudent exposure one rainy night. Now they fear
+      it has settled on the lungs; but if we could get her abroad, all might be
+      well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think so, honestly?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do. Courage, my friend; do not reproach yourself; it has nothing to do
+      with us. She was taken ill of a cold, not of a letter, man!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; I judge her heart by my own. Oh, that I could recall the past!
+      Look at me; I am the wreck of what I was; day and night the recollection
+      of my falsehood haunts me with remorse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pshaw!&mdash;we will go to Italy together, and in your beautiful land
+      love will replace love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am half resolved, Ferrers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha!&mdash;to do what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To write&mdash;to reveal all to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The hardy complexion of Ferrers grew livid; his brow became dark with a
+      terrible expression.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do so, and fall the next day by my hand; my aim in slighter quarrel never
+      erred.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you dare to threaten me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you dare to betray me? Betray one who, if he sinned, sinned on your
+      account&mdash;in your cause; who would have secured to you the loveliest
+      bride, and the most princely dower in England; and whose only offence
+      against you is that he cannot command life and health?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive me,&rdquo; said the Italian, with great emotion,&mdash;&ldquo;forgive me, and
+      do not misunderstand; I would not have betrayed <i>you</i>&mdash;there is
+      honour among villains. I would have confessed only my own crime; I would
+      never have revealed yours&mdash;why should I?&mdash;it is unnecessary.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you in earnest&mdash;are you sincere?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By my soul!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, indeed, you are worthy of my friendship. You will assume the whole
+      forgery&mdash;an ugly word, but it avoids circumlocution&mdash;to be your
+      own?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ferrers paused a moment, and then stopped suddenly short.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will swear this!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By all that is holy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then mark me, Cesarini; if to-morrow Lady Florence be worse, I will throw
+      no obstacle in the way of your confession, should you resolve to make it;
+      I will even use that influence which you leave me, to palliate your
+      offence, to win your pardon. And yet to resign your hopes&mdash;to
+      surrender one so loved to the arms of one so hated&mdash;it is magnanimous&mdash;it
+      is noble&mdash;it is above my standard! Do as you will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cesarini was about to reply, when a servant on horseback abruptly turned
+      the corner, almost at full speed. He pulled in&mdash;his eye fell upon
+      Lumley&mdash;he dismounted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Ferrers,&rdquo; said the man breathlessly, &ldquo;I have been to your house;
+      they told me I might find you at Lord Saxingham&rsquo;s&mdash;I was just going
+      there&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, well, what is the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My poor master, sir&mdash;my lord, I mean&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What of him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Had a fit, sir&mdash;the doctors are with him&mdash;my mistress&mdash;for
+      my lord can&rsquo;t speak&mdash;sent me express for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lend me your horse&mdash;there, just lengthen the stirrups.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While the groom was engaged at the saddle, Ferrers turned to Cesarini. &ldquo;Do
+      nothing rashly,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;I would say, if I might, nothing at all,
+      without consulting me; but mind, I rely, at all events, on your promise&mdash;your
+      oath.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may,&rdquo; said Cesarini, gloomily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Farewell, then,&rdquo; said Lumley, as he mounted; and in a few moments he was
+      out of sight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0070" id="link2HCH0070">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;O world, thou wast the forest to this hart,
+
+</pre>
+    <hr />
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Dost thou here lie?&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Julius Caesar</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      AS Lumley leapt from his horse at his uncle&rsquo;s door, the disorder and
+      bustle of those demesnes, in which the severe eye of the master usually
+      preserved a repose and silence as complete as if the affairs of life were
+      carried on by clockwork, struck upon him sensibly. Upon the trim lawn the
+      old women employed in cleaning and weeding the walks were all assembled in
+      a cluster, shaking their heads ominously in concert, and carrying on their
+      comments in a confused whisper. In the hall, the housemaid (and it was the
+      first housemaid whom Lumley had ever seen in that house, so invisibly were
+      the wheels of the domestic machine carried on) was leaning on her broom,
+      &ldquo;swallowing with open mouth a footman&rsquo;s news.&rdquo; It was as if, with the
+      first slackening of the rigid rein, human nature broke loose from the
+      conventual stillness in which it had ever paced its peaceful path in that
+      formal mansion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My lord is better, sir; he has spoken, I believe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment a young face, swollen and red with weeping, looked down
+      from the stairs; and presently Evelyn rushed breathlessly into the hall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, come up&mdash;come up&mdash;cousin Lumley; he cannot, cannot die in
+      your presence; you always seem so full of life! He cannot die; you do not
+      think he will die? Oh, take me with you, they won&rsquo;t let me go to him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush, my dear little girl, hush; follow me lightly&mdash;that is right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lumley reached the door, tapped gently&mdash;entered; and the child also
+      stole in unobserved or at least unprevented. Lumley drew aside the
+      curtains; the new lord was lying on his bed, with his head propped by
+      pillows, his eyes wide open, with a glassy, but not insensible stare, and
+      his countenance fearfully changed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Vargrave was kneeling on the other side of the bed, one hand clasped
+      in her husband&rsquo;s, the other bathing his temples, and her tears falling,
+      without sob or sound, fast and copiously down her pale fair cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Two doctors were conferring in the recess of the window; an apothecary was
+      mixing drugs at a table; and two of the oldest female servants of the
+      house were standing near the physicians, trying to overhear what was said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear, dear uncle, how are you?&rdquo; asked Lumley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, you are come, then,&rdquo; said the dying man, in a feeble yet distinct
+      voice; &ldquo;that is well&mdash;I have much to say to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But not now&mdash;not now&mdash;you are not strong enough,&rdquo; said the
+      wife, imploringly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctors moved to the bedside. Lord Vargrave waved his hand, and raised
+      his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gentlemen,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I feel as if death were hastening upon me; I have
+      much need, while my senses remain, to confer with my nephew. Is the
+      present a fitting time?&mdash;if I delay, are you sure that I shall have
+      another?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctors looked at each other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My lord,&rdquo; said one, &ldquo;it may perhaps settle and relieve your mind to
+      converse with your nephew; afterwards you may more easily compose yourself
+      to sleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take this cordial, then,&rdquo; said the other doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sick man obeyed. One of the physicians approached Lumley, and beckoned
+      him aside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall we send for his lordship&rsquo;s lawyer?&rdquo; whispered the leech.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am his heir-at-law,&rdquo; thought Lumley. &ldquo;Why, <i>no</i>, my dear sir&mdash;no,
+      I think not, unless he expresses a desire to see him; doubtless my poor
+      uncle has already settled his worldly affairs. What is his state?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor shook his head. &ldquo;I will speak to you, sir, after you have left
+      his lordship.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter there?&rdquo; cried the patient, sharply and querulously.
+      &ldquo;Clear the room&mdash;I would be alone with my nephew.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctors disappeared; the old women reluctantly followed; when,
+      suddenly, the little Evelyn sprang forward and threw herself on the breast
+      of the dying man, sobbing as if her heart would break.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My poor child!&mdash;my sweet child&mdash;my own, own darling!&rdquo; gasped
+      out Lord Vargrave, folding his weak arms round her; &ldquo;bless you&mdash;bless
+      you! and God will bless you. My wife,&rdquo; he added, with a voice far more
+      tender than Lumley had ever before heard him address to Lady Vargrave, &ldquo;if
+      these be the last words I utter to you, let them express all the gratitude
+      I feel for you, for duties never more piously discharged: you did not love
+      me, it is true; and in health and pride that knowledge often made me
+      unjust to you. I have been severe&mdash;you have had much to bear&mdash;forgive
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! do not talk thus; you have been nobler, kinder than my deserts. How
+      much I owe you&mdash;how little I have done in return!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot bear this; leave me, my dear, leave me. I may live yet&mdash;I
+      hope I may&mdash;I do not want to die. The cup may pass from me. Go&mdash;go&mdash;and
+      you, my child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, let <i>me</i> stay.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Vargrave kissed the little creature, as she clung to his neck, with
+      passionate affection, and then, placing her in her mother&rsquo;s arms, fell
+      back exhausted on his pillow. Lumley, with handkerchief to his eyes,
+      opened the door to Lady Vargrave, who sobbed bitterly, and carefully
+      closing it, resumed his station by his uncle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Lumley Ferrers left the room, his countenance was gloomy and excited
+      rather than sad. He hurried to the room which he usually occupied, and
+      remained there for some hours while his uncle slept&mdash;a long and sound
+      sleep. But the mother and the stepchild (now restored to the sick-room)
+      did not desert their watch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It wanted about an hour to midnight, when the senior physician sought the
+      nephew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your uncle asks for you, Mr. Ferrers; and I think it right to say that
+      his last moments approach. We have done all that can be done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he fully aware of his danger?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is; and has spent the last two hours in prayer&mdash;it is a
+      Christian&rsquo;s death-bed, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; said Ferrers, as he followed the physician. The room was darkened&mdash;a
+      single lamp, carefully shaded, burned on a table, on which lay the Book of
+      Life in Death: and with awe and grief on their faces, the mother and the
+      child were kneeling beside the bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come here, Lumley,&rdquo; faltered forth the fast-dying man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are none here but you three&mdash;nearest and dearest to me?&mdash;That
+      is well. Lumley, then, you know all&mdash;my wife, he knows all. My child,
+      give your hand to your cousin&mdash;so you are now plighted. When you grow
+      up, Evelyn, you will know that it is my last wish and prayer that you
+      should be the wife of Lumley Ferrers. In giving you this angel, Lumley, I
+      atone to you for all seeming injustice. And to you, my child, I secure the
+      rank and honours to which I have painfully climbed, and which I am
+      forbidden to enjoy. Be kind to her, Lumley&mdash;you have a good and frank
+      heart&mdash;let it be her shelter&mdash;she has never known a harsh word.
+      God bless you all, and God forgive me&mdash;pray for me. Lumley, to-morrow
+      you will be Lord Vargrave, and by and by&rdquo; (here a ghastly, but exultant
+      smile flitted over the speaker&rsquo;s countenance), &ldquo;you will be my Lady&mdash;Lady
+      Vargrave. Lady&mdash;so&mdash;so&mdash;Lady Var&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The words died on his trembling lips; he turned round, and, though he
+      continued to breathe for more than an hour, Lord Vargrave never uttered
+      another syllable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0071" id="link2HCH0071">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+        &ldquo;Hopes and fears
+  Start up alarmed, and o&rsquo;er life&rsquo;s narrow verge
+  Look down&mdash;on what?&mdash;a fathomless abyss.&rdquo;&mdash;YOUNG.
+
+ &ldquo;Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adieu!&rdquo;
+         <i>Much Ado about Nothing</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      THE wound which Maltravers had received was peculiarly severe and
+      rankling. It is true that he had never been what is called violently in
+      love with Florence Lascelles; but from the moment in which he had been
+      charmed and surprised into the character of a declared suitor, it was
+      consonant with his scrupulous and loyal nature to view only the bright
+      side of Florence&rsquo;s gifts and qualities, and to seek to enamour his
+      grateful fancy with her beauty, her genius, and her tenderness for
+      himself. He had thus forced and formed his thoughts and hopes to centre
+      all in one object; and Florence and the Future had grown words which
+      conveyed the same meaning to his mind. Perhaps he felt more bitterly her
+      sudden and stunning accusations, couched as they were in language so
+      unqualified, because they fell upon his pride rather than his affection,
+      and were not softened away by the thousand excuses and remembrances which
+      a passionate love would have invented and recalled. It was a deep,
+      concentrated sense of injury and insult, that hardened and soured his
+      whole nature&mdash;wounded vanity, wounded pride, and wounded honour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And the blow, too, came upon him at a time when he was most dissatisfied
+      with all other prospects. He was disgusted with the littleness of the
+      agents and springs of political life&mdash;he had formed a weary contempt
+      for the barrenness of literary reputation. At thirty years of age he had
+      necessarily outlived the sanguine elasticity of early youth, and he had
+      already broken up many of those later toys in business and ambition which
+      afford the rattle and the hobby-borse to our maturer manhood. Always
+      asking for something too refined and too exalted for human life, every new
+      proof of unworthiness in men and things saddened or revolted a mind still
+      too fastidious for that quiet contentment with the world as it is, which
+      we must all learn before we can make our philosophy practical and our
+      genius as fertile of the harvest as it may be prodigal of the blossom.
+      Haughty, solitary, and unsocial, the ordinary resources of mortified and
+      disappointed men were not for Ernest Maltravers. Rigidly secluded in his
+      country retirement, he consumed the days in moody wanderings; and in the
+      evenings he turned to books with a spirit disdainful and fatigued. So much
+      had he already learned, that books taught him little that he did not
+      already know. And the biographies of authors, those ghost-like beings who
+      seem to have had no life but in the shadow of their own haunting and
+      imperishable thoughts, dimmed the inspiration he might have caught from
+      their pages. Those slaves of the Lamp, those Silkworms of the Closet, how
+      little had they enjoyed, how little had they lived! Condemned to a
+      mysterious fate by the wholesale destinies of the world, they seemed born
+      but to toil and to spin thoughts for the common crowd&mdash;and, their
+      task performed in drudgery and in darkness, to die when no further service
+      could be wrung from their exhaustion. Names had they been in life, and as
+      names they lived for ever, in life as in death, airy and unsubstantial
+      phantoms. It pleased Maltravers at this time to turn a curious eye towards
+      the obscure and half-extinct philosophies of the ancient world. He
+      compared the Stoics with the Epicureans&mdash;those Epicureans who had
+      given their own version to the simple and abstemious utilitarianism of
+      their master. He asked which was the wiser, to sharpen pain or to deaden
+      pleasure&mdash;to bear all or to enjoy all; and, by a natural reaction
+      which often happens to us in life, this man, hitherto so earnest,
+      active-spirited, and resolved on great things, began to yearn for the
+      drowsy pleasures of indolence. The garden grew more tempting than the
+      porch. He seriously revolved the old alternative of the Grecian demi-god&mdash;might
+      it not be wiser to abandon the grave pursuits to which he had been
+      addicted, to dethrone the august but severe ideal in his heart, to
+      cultivate the light loves and voluptuous trifles of the herd, and to plant
+      the brief space of youth yet left to him with the myrtle and the rose? As
+      water flows over water, so new schemes rolled upon new&mdash;sweeping away
+      every momentary impression, and leaving the surface facile equally to
+      receive and to forget. Such is the common state with men of imagination in
+      those crises of life, when some great revolution of designs and hopes
+      unsettles elements too susceptible of every changing wind. And thus the
+      weak are destroyed, while the strong relapse, after terrible but unknown
+      convulsions, into that solemn harmony and order from which destiny and God
+      draw their uses to mankind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was from this irresolute contest between antagonist principles that
+      Maltravers was aroused by the following letter from Florence Lascelles:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For three days and three sleepless nights I have debated with myself
+      whether or not I ought to address you. Oh, Ernest, were I what I was, in
+      health, in pride, I might fear that, generous as you are, you would
+      misconstrue my appeal; but that is now impossible. Our union never can
+      take place, and my hopes bound themselves to one sweet and melancholy
+      hope, that you will remove from my last hours the cold and dark shadow of
+      your resentment. We have both been cruelly deceived and betrayed. Three
+      days ago I discovered the perfidy that has been practised against us. And
+      then, ah! then, with all the weak human anguish of discovering it too late
+      (<i>your curse is fulfilled</i>, Ernest!), I had at least one moment of
+      proud, of exquisite rapture. Ernest Maltravers, the hero of my dreams,
+      stood pure and lofty as of old&mdash;a thing it was not unworthy to love,
+      to mourn, to die for. A letter in your handwriting had been shown to me,
+      garbled and altered, as it seems&mdash;but I detected not the imposture&mdash;it
+      was yourself, yourself alone, brought in false and horrible witness
+      against yourself! And could you think that any other evidence, the words,
+      the oaths of others, would have convicted you in my eyes? There you
+      wronged me. But I deserved it&mdash;I had bound myself to secrecy&mdash;the
+      seal is taken from my lips in order to be set upon my tomb. Ernest,
+      beloved Ernest&mdash;beloved till the last breath is extinct&mdash;till
+      the last throb of this heart is stilled&mdash;write me one word of comfort
+      and of pardon. You will believe what I have imperfectly written, for you
+      ever trusted my faith, if you have blamed my faults. I am now
+      comparatively happy&mdash;a word from you will, make me blest. And Fate
+      has, perhaps, been more merciful to both, than in our shortsighted and
+      querulous human vision, we might, perhaps, believe; for now that the frame
+      is brought low&mdash;and in the solitude of my chamber I can duly and
+      humbly commune with mine own heart, I see the aspect of those faults which
+      I once mistook for virtues&mdash;and feel that, had we been united, I,
+      loving you ever, might not have constituted your happiness, and so have
+      known the misery of losing your affection. May He who formed you for
+      glorious and yet all unaccomplished purposes strengthen you, when these
+      eyes can no longer sparkle at your triumphs, or weep at your lightest
+      sorrow. You will go on in your broad and luminous career:&mdash;a few
+      years, and my remembrance will have left but the vestige of a dream
+      behind. But, but&mdash;I can write no more. God bless you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0072" id="link2HCH0072">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Oh, stop this headlong current of your goodness;
+  It comes too fast upon a feeble soul.&rdquo;
+         DRYDEN: <i>Sebastian and Doras</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      THE smooth physician had paid his evening visit; Lord Saxingham had gone
+      to a cabinet dinner, for Life must ever walk side by side with Death: and
+      Lady Florence Lascelles was alone. It was a room adjoining her
+      sleeping-apartment&mdash;a room in which, in the palmy days of the
+      brilliant and wayward heiress, she had loved to display her fanciful and
+      peculiar taste. There had she been accustomed to muse, to write, to study&mdash;there
+      had she first been dazzled by the novel glow of Ernest&rsquo;s undiurnal and
+      stately thoughts&mdash;there had she first conceived the romance of
+      girlhood, which had led her to confer with him, unknown&mdash;there had
+      she first confessed to herself that fancy had begotten love&mdash;there
+      had she gone through love&rsquo;s short and exhausting process of lone emotion;&mdash;the
+      doubt, the hope, the ecstasy; the reverse, the terror; the inanimate
+      despondency, the agonised despair! And there now, sadly and patiently, she
+      awaited the gradual march of inevitable decay. And books and pictures, and
+      musical instruments, and marble busts, half shadowed by classic draperies&mdash;and
+      all the delicate elegancies of womanly refinement&mdash;still invested the
+      chamber with a grace as cheerful as if youth and beauty were to be the
+      occupants for ever&mdash;and the dark and noisome vault were not the only
+      lasting residence for the things of clay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence Lascelles was dying; but not indeed wholly of that common, if
+      mystic malady, a broken heart. Her health, always delicate, because always
+      preyed upon by a nervous, irritable, and feverish spirit, had been
+      gradually and invisibly undermined, even before Ernest confessed his love.
+      In the singular lustre of those large-pupilled eyes&mdash;in the luxuriant
+      transparency of that glorious bloom,&mdash;the experienced might long
+      since have traced the seeds which cradled death. In the night when her
+      restless and maddened heart so imprudently drove her forth to forestall
+      the communication of Lumley (whom she had sent to Maltravers, she scarce
+      knew for what object, or with what hope), in that night she was already in
+      a high state of fever. The rain and the chill struck the growing disease
+      within&mdash;her excitement gave it food and fire&mdash;delirium
+      succeeded; and in that most fearful and fatal of all medical errors, which
+      robs the frame, when it most needs strength, of the very principle of
+      life, they had bled her into a temporary calm, and into permanent and
+      incurable weakness. Consumption seized its victim. The physicians who
+      attended her were the most renowned in London, and Lord Saxingham was
+      firmly persuaded that there was no danger. It was not in his nature to
+      think that death would take so great a liberty with Lady Florence
+      Lascelles, when there were so many poor people in the world whom there
+      would be no impropriety in removing from it. But Florence knew her danger,
+      and her high spirit did not quail before it. Yet, when Cesarini, stung
+      beyond endurance by the horrors of his remorse, wrote and confessed all
+      his own share of the fatal treason, though, faithful to his promise, he
+      concealed that of his accomplice,&mdash;then, ah then, she did indeed
+      repine at her doom, and long to look once more with the eyes of love and
+      joy upon the face of the beautiful world. But the illness of the body
+      usually brings out a latent power and philosophy of the soul, which health
+      never knows; and God has mercifully ordained it as the customary lot of
+      nature, that in proportion as we decline into the grave, the sloping path
+      is made smooth and easy to our feet; and every day, as the films of clay
+      are removed from our eyes, Death loses the false aspect of the spectre,
+      and we fall at last into its arms as a wearied child upon the bosom of its
+      mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was with a heavy heart that Lady Florence listened to the monotonous
+      clicking of the clock that announced the departure of moments few, yet not
+      precious, still spared to her. Her face buried in her hands, she bent over
+      the small table beside her sofa, and indulged her melancholy thoughts.
+      Bowed was the haughty crest, unnerved the elastic shape that had once
+      seemed born for majesty and command&mdash;no friends were near, for
+      Florence had never made friends. Solitary had been her youth, and solitary
+      were her dying hours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she thus sat and mused, a sound of carriage wheels in the street below
+      slightly shook the room&mdash;it ceased&mdash;the carriage stopped at the
+      door. Florence looked up. &ldquo;No, no, it cannot be,&rdquo; she muttered; yet, while
+      she spoke, a faint flush passed over her sunken and faded cheek, and the
+      bosom heaved beneath the robe, &ldquo;a world too wide for its shrunk&rdquo;
+       proportions. There was a silence, which to her seemed interminable, and
+      she turned away with a deep sigh, and a chill sinking of the heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this time her woman entered with a meaning and flurried look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon, my lady&mdash;but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Maltravers has called, and asked for your ladyship&mdash;so, my lady,
+      Mr. Burton sent for me, and I said, my lady is too unwell to see any one;
+      but Mr. Maltravers would not be denied; and he is waiting in my lord&rsquo;s
+      library, and insisted on my coming up and &lsquo;nouncing him, my lady.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now Mrs. Shinfield&rsquo;s words were not euphonistic, nor her voice
+      mellifluous; but never had eloquence seemed to Florence so effective.
+      Youth, love, beauty, all rushed back upon her at once, brightening her
+      eyes, her cheek, and filling up ruin with sudden and deceitful light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she said, after a pause, &ldquo;let Mr. Maltravers come up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come up, my lady? Bless me!&mdash;let me just &lsquo;range your hair&mdash;your
+      ladyship is really in such dish-a-bill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Best as it is, Shinfield&mdash;he will excuse all.&mdash;Go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Shinfield shrugged her shoulders, and departed. A few moments more&mdash;a
+      step on the stairs, the creaking of the door,&mdash;and Maltravers and
+      Florence were again alone. He stood motionless on the threshold. She had
+      involuntarily risen, and so they stood opposite to each other, and the
+      lamp fell full upon her face. Oh, Heaven! when did that sight cease to
+      haunt the heart of Maltravers! When shall that altered aspect not pass as
+      a ghost before his eyes!&mdash;there it is, faithful and reproachful alike
+      in solitude and in crowds&mdash;it is seen in the glare of noon&mdash;it
+      passes dim and wan at night beneath the stars and the earth&mdash;it
+      looked into his heart and left its likeness there for ever and for ever!
+      Those cheeks, once so beautifully rounded, now sunken into lines and
+      hollows&mdash;the livid darkness beneath the eyes&mdash;the whitened lip&mdash;the
+      sharp, anxious, worn expression, which had replaced that glorious and
+      beaming regard from which all the life of genius, all the sweet pride of
+      womanhood had glowed forth, and in which not only the intelligence, but
+      the eternity of the soul, seemed visibly wrought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There he stood, aghast and appalled. At length a low groan broke from his
+      lips&mdash;he rushed forward, sank on his knees beside her, and clasping
+      both her hands, sobbed aloud as he covered them with kisses. All the iron
+      of his strong nature was broken down, and his emotions, long silenced, and
+      now uncontrollable and resistless, were something terrible to behold!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not&mdash;do not weep so,&rdquo; murmured Lady Florence, frightened by his
+      vehemence; &ldquo;I am sadly changed, but the fault is mine&mdash;Ernest, it is
+      mine; best, kindest, gentlest, how could I have been so mad! And you
+      forgive me? I am yours again&mdash;a little while yours. Ah, do not grieve
+      while I am so blessed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As she spoke, her tears&mdash;tears from a source how different from that
+      whence broke the scorching and intolerable agony of his own! fell soft
+      upon his bended head, and the hands that still convulsively strained hers.
+      Maltravers looked wildly up into her countenance, and shuddered as he saw
+      her attempt to smile. He rose abruptly, threw himself into a chair, and
+      covered his face. He was seeking by a violent effort to master himself,
+      and it was only by the heaving of his chest, and now and then a gasp as
+      for breath, that he betrayed the stormy struggle within.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Florence gazed at him a moment in bitter, in almost selfish penitence.
+      &ldquo;And this was the man who seemed to me so callous to the softer sympathies&mdash;this
+      was the heart I trampled upon&mdash;this the nature I distrusted!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She came near him, trembling and with feeble steps&mdash;she laid her hand
+      upon his shoulder, and the fondness of love came over her, and she wound
+      her arms around him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is our fate&mdash;it is my fate,&rdquo; said Maltravers at last, awaking as
+      from a hideous dream, and in a hollow but calm voice&mdash;&ldquo;we are the
+      things of destiny, and the wheel has crushed us. It is an awful state of
+      being this human life!&mdash;What is wisdom&mdash;virtue&mdash;faith to
+      men&mdash;piety to Heaven&mdash;all the nurture we bestow on ourselves&mdash;all
+      our desire to win a loftier sphere, when we are thus the tools of the
+      merest chance&mdash;the victims of the pettiest villainy; and our very
+      existence&mdash;our very senses almost, at the mercy of every traitor and
+      every fool!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was something in Ernest&rsquo;s voice, as well as in his reflections,
+      which appeared so unnaturally calm and deep that it startled Florence,
+      with a fear more acute than his previous violence had done. He rose, and
+      muttering to himself, walked to and fro, as if insensible of her presence&mdash;in
+      fact he was so. At length he stopped short, and fixing his eyes upon Lady
+      Florence, said in a whispered and thrilling tone:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, then, the name of our undoer?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Ernest, no&mdash;never, unless you promise me to forego the purpose
+      which I read in your eyes. He has confessed&mdash;he is penitent&mdash;I
+      have forgiven him&mdash;you will do so too!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His name!&rdquo; repeated Maltravers, and his face, before very flushed, was
+      unnaturally pale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive him&mdash;promise me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His name, I say,&mdash;his name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this kind?&mdash;you terrify me&mdash;you will kill me!&rdquo; faltered out
+      Florence, and she sank on the sofa exhausted: her nerves, now so weakened,
+      were perfectly unstrung by his vehemence, and she wrung her hands and wept
+      piteously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will not tell me his name?&rdquo; said Maltravers, softly. &ldquo;Be it so. I
+      will ask no more. I can discover it myself. Fate the Avenger will reveal
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the thought he grew more composed; and as Florence wept on, the
+      unnatural concentration and fierceness of his mind again gave way, and,
+      seating himself beside her, he uttered all that could soothe, and comfort,
+      and console. And Florence was soon soothed! And there, while over their
+      heads the grim skeleton was holding the funeral pall, they again exchanged
+      their vows, and again, with feelings fonder than of old, spoke of love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0073" id="link2HCH0073">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+        &ldquo;Erichtho, then,
+  Breathes her dire murmurs, which enforce him bear
+  Her baneful secrets to the spirits of horror.&rdquo;&mdash;MARLOWE.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      WITH a heavy step Maltravers ascended the stairs of his lonely house that
+      night, and heavily, with a suppressed groan, did he sink upon the first
+      chair that proffered rest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was intensely cold. During his long interview with Lady Florence, his
+      servant had taken the precaution to go to Seamore Place, and make some
+      hasty preparations for the owner&rsquo;s return. But the bedroom looked
+      comfortless and bare, the curtains were taken down, the carpets were taken
+      up (a single man&rsquo;s housekeeper is wonderfully provident in these matters;
+      the moment his back is turned, she bustles, she displaces, she exults;
+      &ldquo;things can be put a little to rights!&rdquo;). Even the fire would not burn
+      clear, but gleamed sullen and fitful from the smothering fuel. It was a
+      large chamber, and the lights imperfectly filled it. On the table lay
+      parliamentary papers, and pamphlets, and bills and presentation-books from
+      younger authors&mdash;evidences of the teeming business of that restless
+      machine the world. But of all this Maltravers was not sensible: the winter
+      frost numbed not his feverish veins. His servant, who loved him, as all
+      who saw much of Maltravers did, fidgeted anxiously about the room, and
+      plied the sullen fire, and laid out the comfortable dressing-robe, and
+      placed wine on the table, and asked questions which were not answered, and
+      pressed service which was not heeded. The little wheels of life go on,
+      even when the great wheel is paralysed or broken. Maltravers was, if I may
+      so express it, in a kind of mental trance. His emotions had left him
+      thoroughly exhausted. He felt that torpor which succeeds and is again the
+      precursor of great woe. At length he was alone, and the solitude half
+      unconsciously restored him to the sense of his heavy misery. For it may be
+      observed, that when misfortune has stricken us home, the presence of any
+      one seems to interfere between the memory and the heart. Withdraw the
+      intruder, and the lifted hammer falls at once upon the anvil! He rose as
+      the door closed on his attendant&mdash;rose with a start, and pushed the
+      hat from his gathered brows. He walked for some moments to and fro, and
+      the air of the room, freezing as it was, oppressed him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There are times when the arrow quivers within us&mdash;in which all space
+      seems too confined. Like the wounded hart, we could fly on for ever; there
+      is a vague desire of escape&mdash;a yearning, almost insane, to get out
+      from our own selves: the soul struggles to flee away, and take the wings
+      of the morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Impatiently, at last, did Maltravers throw open his window; it
+      communicated with a balcony, built out to command the wide view which,
+      from a certain height, that part of the park affords. He stepped into the
+      balcony and bared his breast to the keen air. The uncomfortable and icy
+      heavens looked down upon the hoar-rime that gathered over the grass, and
+      the ghostly boughs of the deathlike trees. All things in the world without
+      brought the thought of the grave, and the pause of being, and the
+      withering up of beauty, closer and closer to his soul. In the palpable and
+      griping winter, death itself seemed to wind around him its skeleton and
+      joyless arms. And as thus he stood, and, wearied with contending against,
+      passively yielded to, the bitter passions that wrung and gnawed his heart,&mdash;he
+      heard not a sound at the door&mdash;nor the footsteps on the stairs&mdash;nor
+      knew he that a visitor was in his room&mdash;till he felt a hand upon his
+      shoulder, and turning round, he beheld the white and livid countenance of
+      Castruccio Cesarini.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a dreary night and a solemn hour, Maltravers,&rdquo; said the Italian,
+      with a distorted smile&mdash;&ldquo;a fitting night and time for my interview
+      with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Away!&rdquo; said Maltravers, in an impatient tone. &ldquo;I am not at leisure for
+      these mock heroics.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ay, but you shall hear me to the end. I have watched your arrival&mdash;I
+      have counted the hours in which you remained with her&mdash;I have
+      followed you home. If you have human passions, humanity itself must be
+      dried up within you, and the wild beast in his cavern is not more fearful
+      to encounter. Thus, then, I seek and brave you. Be still. Has Florence
+      revealed to you the name of him who belied you, and who betrayed herself
+      to the death?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha!&rdquo; said Maltravers, growing very pale, and fixing his eyes on Cesarini,
+      &ldquo;you are not the man&mdash;my suspicions lighted elsewhere.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am the man. Do thy worst.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Scarce were the words uttered, when, with a fierce cry, Maltravers threw
+      himself on the Italian;&mdash;he tore him from his footing&mdash;he
+      grasped him in his arms as a child&mdash;he literally whirled him around
+      and on high; and in that maddening paroxysm, it was, perhaps, but the
+      balance of a feather, in the conflicting elements of revenge and reason,
+      which withheld Maltravers from hurling the criminal from the fearful
+      height on which they stood. The temptation passed&mdash;Cesarini leaned
+      safe, unharmed, but half senseless with mingled rage and fear, against the
+      wall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was alone&mdash;Maltravers had left him&mdash;had fled from himself&mdash;fled
+      into the chamber&mdash;fled for refuge from human passions to the wing of
+      the All-Seeing and All-Present. &ldquo;Father,&rdquo; he groaned, sinking on his
+      knees, &ldquo;support me, save me: without Thee I am lost.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Slowly Cesarini recovered himself, and re-entered the apartment. A string
+      in his brain was already loosened, and, sullen and ferocious, he returned
+      again to goad the lion that had spared him. Maltravers had already risen
+      from his brief prayer. With locked and rigid countenance, with arms folded
+      on his breast, he stood confronting the Italian, who advanced towards him
+      with a menacing brow and arm, but halted involuntarily at the sight of
+      that commanding aspect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then,&rdquo; said Maltravers at last, with a tone preternaturally calm
+      and low, &ldquo;you then are the man. Speak on&mdash;what arts did you employ?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your own letter. When, many months ago, I wrote to tell you of the hopes
+      it was mine to conceive, and to ask your opinion of her I loved, how did
+      you answer me? With doubts, with depreciation, with covert and polished
+      scorn, of the very woman whom, with a deliberate treachery, you afterwards
+      wrested from my worshipping and adoring love. That letter I garbled. I
+      made the doubts you expressed of my happiness seem doubts of your own. I
+      changed the dates&mdash;I made the letter itself appear written, not on
+      your first acquaintance with her, but subsequent to your plighted and
+      accepted vows. Your own handwriting convicted you of mean suspicions and
+      of sordid motives. These were my arts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They were most noble. Do you abide by them&mdash;or repent?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For what I have done to <i>thee</i> I have no repentance. Nay, I regard
+      thee still as the aggressor. Thou hast robbed me of her who was all the
+      world to me&mdash;and, be thine excuses what they may, I hate thee with a
+      hate that cannot slumber&mdash;that abjures the abject name of remorse! I
+      exult in the very agonies thou endurest. But for her&mdash;the stricken&mdash;the
+      dying! O God, O God! The blow falls upon mine own head!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dying!&rdquo; said Maltravers, slowly and with a shudder. &ldquo;No, no&mdash;not
+      dying&mdash;or what art thou? Her murderer! And what must I be? Her
+      avenger!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Overpowered with his own passions, Cesarini sank down and covered his face
+      with his clasped hands. Maltravers stalked gloomily to and fro the
+      apartment. There was silence for some moments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length Maltravers paused opposite Cesarini and thus addressed him:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have come hither not so much to confess the basest crime of which man
+      can be guilty, as to gloat over my anguish and to brave me to revenge my
+      wrongs. Go, man, go&mdash;for the present you are safe. While she lives,
+      my life is not mine to hazard&mdash;if she recover, I can pity you and
+      forgive. To me your offence, foul though it be, sinks below contempt
+      itself. It is the consequences of that crime as they relate to&mdash;to&mdash;that
+      noble and suffering woman, which can alone raise the despicable into the
+      tragic and make your life a worthy and a necessary offering&mdash;not to
+      revenge, but justice:&mdash;life for life&mdash;victim for victim! &lsquo;Tis
+      the old law&mdash;&lsquo;tis a righteous one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You shall not, with your accursed coldness, thus dispose of me as you
+      will, and arrogate the option to smite or save! No,&rdquo; continued Cesarini,
+      stamping his foot&mdash;&ldquo;no; far from seeking forbearance at your hands&mdash;I
+      dare and defy you! You think I have injured you&mdash;I, on the other
+      hand, consider that the wrong has come from yourself. But for you, she
+      might have loved me&mdash;have been mine. Let that pass. But for you, at
+      least, it is certain that I should neither have sullied my soul with a
+      vile sin, nor brought the brightest of human beings to the grave. If she
+      dies, the murder may be mine, but you were the cause&mdash;the devil that
+      tempted to the offence. I defy and spit upon you&mdash;I have no softness
+      left in me&mdash;my veins are fire&mdash;my heart thirsts for blood. You&mdash;you&mdash;have
+      still the privilege to see&mdash;to bless&mdash;to tend her:&mdash;and I&mdash;I,
+      who loved her so&mdash;who could have kissed the earth she trod on&mdash;I&mdash;well,
+      well, no matter&mdash;I hate you&mdash;I insult you&mdash;I call you
+      villain and dastard&mdash;I throw myself on the laws of honour, and I
+      demand that conflict you defer or deny!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Home, doter&mdash;home&mdash;fall on thy knees, and pray to Heaven for
+      pardon&mdash;make up thy dread account&mdash;repine not at the days yet
+      thine to wash the black spot from thy soul. For, while I speak, I foresee
+      too well that her days are numbered, and with her thread of life is
+      entwined thine own. Within twelve hours from her last moment, we shall
+      meet again: but now I am as ice and stone,&mdash;thou canst not move me.
+      Her closing life shall not be darkened by the aspect of blood&mdash;by the
+      thought of the sacrifice it demands. Begone, or menials shall cast thee
+      from my door: those lips are too base to breathe the same air as honest
+      men. Begone, I say, begone!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Though scarce a muscle moved in the lofty countenance of Maltravers&mdash;though
+      no frown darkened the majestic brow&mdash;though no fire broke from the
+      steadfast and scornful eye&mdash;there was a kingly authority in the
+      aspect, in the extended arm, the stately crest, and a power in the swell
+      of the stern voice, which awed and quelled the unhappy being whose own
+      passions exhausted and unmanned him. He strove to fling back scorn to
+      scorn, but his lips trembled, and his voice died in hollow murmurs within
+      his breast. Maltravers regarded him with a crushing and intense disdain.
+      The Italian with shame and wrath wrestled against himself, but in vain:
+      the cold eye that was fixed upon him was as a spell, which the fiend
+      within him could not rebel against or resist. Mechanically he moved to the
+      door,&mdash;then turning round, he shook his clenched hand at Maltravers,
+      and, with a wild, maniacal laugh, rushed from the apartment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0074" id="link2HCH0074">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;On some fond breast the parting soul relies.&rdquo;&mdash;GRAY.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      NOT a day passed in which Maltravers was absent from the side of Florence.
+      He came early, he went late. He subsided into his former character of an
+      accepted suitor, without a word of explanation with Lord Saxingham. That
+      task was left to Florence. She doubtless performed it well, for his
+      lordship seemed satisfied though grave, and, almost for the first time in
+      his life, sad. Maltravers never reverted to the cause of their unhappy
+      dissension. Nor from that night did he once give way to whatever might be
+      his more agonised and fierce emotions&mdash;he never affected to reproach
+      himself&mdash;he never bewailed with a vain despair their approaching
+      separation. Whatever it cost him, he stood collected and stoical in the
+      intense power of his self control. He had but one object, one desire, one
+      hope&mdash;to save the last hours of Florence Lascelles from every pang&mdash;to
+      brighten and smooth the passage across the Solemn Bridge. His forethought,
+      his presence of mind, his care, his tenderness, never forsook him for an
+      instant: they went beyond the attributes of men, they went into all the
+      fine, the indescribable minutiae by which woman makes herself, &ldquo;in pain
+      and anguish,&rdquo; the &ldquo;ministering angel.&rdquo; It was as if he had nerved and
+      braced his whole nature to one duty&mdash;as if that duty were more felt
+      than affection itself&mdash;as if he were resolved that Florence should
+      not remember that <i>she had no mother</i>!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And, oh, then, how Florence loved him! how far more luxurious, in its
+      grateful and clinging fondness, was that love, than the wild and jealous
+      fire of their earlier connection! Her own character, as is often the case
+      in lingering illness, became incalculably more gentle and softened down,
+      as the shadows closed around it. She loved to make him read and talk to
+      her&mdash;and her ancient poetry of thought now grew mellowed, as it were,
+      into religion, which is indeed poetry with a stronger wing.... There was a
+      world beyond the grave&mdash;there was life out of the chrysalis sleep of
+      death&mdash;they would yet be united. And Maltravers, who was a solemn and
+      intense believer in the GREAT HOPE, did not neglect the purest and highest
+      of all the fountains of solace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Often in that quiet room, in that gorgeous mansion, which had been the
+      scene of all vain or worldly schemes&mdash;of flirtations and feastings,
+      and political meetings and cabinet dinners, and all the bubbles of the
+      passing wave&mdash;often there did these persons, whose position to each
+      other had been so suddenly and so strangely changed&mdash;converse on
+      those matters&mdash;daring and divine&mdash;which &ldquo;make the bridal of the
+      earth and sky.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How fortunate am I,&rdquo; said Florence, one day, &ldquo;that my choice fell on one
+      who thinks as you do! How your words elevate and exalt me!&mdash;yet once
+      I never dreamt of asking your creed on these questions. It is in sorrow or
+      sickness that we learn why Faith was given as a soother to man&mdash;Faith,
+      which is Hope with a holier name&mdash;hope that knows neither deceit nor
+      death. Ah, how wisely do you speak of the <i>philosophy</i> of belief! It
+      is, indeed, the telescope through which the stars grow large upon our
+      gaze. And to you, Ernest, my beloved&mdash;comprehended and known at last&mdash;to
+      you I leave, when I am gone, that monitor&mdash;that friend; you will know
+      yourself what you teach to me. And when you look not on the heaven alone
+      but in all space&mdash;on all the illimitable creation, you will know that
+      I am there! For the home of a spirit is wherever spreads the Universal
+      Presence of God. And to what numerous stages of being, what paths, what
+      duties, what active and glorious tasks in other worlds may we not be
+      reserved&mdash;perhaps to know and share them together, and mount age
+      after age higher in the scale of being. For surely in heaven there is no
+      pause or torpor&mdash;we do not lie down in calm and unimprovable repose.
+      Movement and progress will remain the law and condition of existence. And
+      there will be efforts and duties for us above as there have been below.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was in this theory, which Maltravers shared, that the character of
+      Florence, her overflowing life and activity of thought&mdash;her
+      aspirations, her ambition, were still displayed. It was not so much to the
+      calm and rest of the grave that she extended her unreluctant gaze, as to
+      the light and glory of a renewed and progressive existence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was while thus they sat, the low voice of Ernest, tranquil yet half
+      trembling with the emotions he sought to restrain&mdash;sometimes
+      sobering, sometimes yet more elevating, the thoughts of Florence, that
+      Lord Vargrave was announced, and Lumley Ferrers, who had now succeeded to
+      that title, entered the room. It was the first time that Florence had seen
+      him since the death of his uncle&mdash;the first time Maltravers had seen
+      him since the evening so fatal to Florence. Both started&mdash;Maltravers
+      rose and walked to the window. Lord Vargrave took the hand of his cousin
+      and pressed it to his lips in silence, while his looks betokened feelings
+      that for once were genuine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, Lumley, I am resigned,&rdquo; said Florence, with a sweet smile. &ldquo;I am
+      resigned and happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lumley glanced at Maltravers, and met a cold, scrutinising, piercing eye,
+      from which he shrank with some confusion. He recovered himself in an
+      instant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am rejoiced, my cousin, I <i>am</i> rejoiced,&rdquo; said he, very earnestly,
+      &ldquo;to see Maltravers here again. Let us now hope the best.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers walked deliberately up to Lumley. &ldquo;Will you take my hand <i>now</i>,
+      too?&rdquo; said he, with deep meaning in his tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More willingly than ever,&rdquo; said Lumley; and he did not shrink as he said
+      it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am satisfied,&rdquo; replied Maltravers, after a pause, and in a voice that
+      expressed more than his words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There is in some natures so great a hoard of generosity, that it often
+      dulls their acuteness. Maltravers could not believe that frankness could
+      be wholly a mask&mdash;it was an hypocrisy he knew not of. He himself was
+      not incapable, had circumstances so urged him, of great crimes; nay, the
+      design of one crime lay at that moment deadly and dark within his heart,
+      for he had some passions which in so resolute a character could produce,
+      should the wind waken them into storm, dire and terrible effects. Even at
+      the age of thirty, it was yet uncertain whether Ernest Maltravers might
+      become an exemplary or an evil man. But he could sooner have strangled a
+      foe than taken the hand of a man whom he had once betrayed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I love to think you friends,&rdquo; said Florence, gazing at them
+      affectionately, &ldquo;and to you, at least, Lumley, such friendship should be a
+      blessing. I always loved you much and dearly, Lumley&mdash;loved you as a
+      brother, though our characters often jarred.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lumley winced. &ldquo;For Heaven&rsquo;s sake,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;do not speak thus tenderly
+      to me&mdash;I cannot bear it, and look on you and think&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I am dying. Kind words become us best when our words are approaching
+      to the last. But enough of this&mdash;I grieved for your loss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My poor uncle!&rdquo; said Lumley, eagerly changing the conversation&mdash;&ldquo;the
+      shock was sudden; and melancholy duties have absorbed me so till this day,
+      that I could not come even to you. It soothed me, however, to learn, in
+      answer to my daily inquiries, that Ernest was here. For my part,&rdquo; he added
+      with a faint smile, &ldquo;I have had duties as well as honours devolved on me.
+      I am left guardian to an heiress, and betrothed to a child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, my poor uncle was so fondly attached to his wife&rsquo;s daughter, that he
+      has left her the bulk of his property: a very small estate&mdash;not L2000
+      a year&mdash;goes with the title (a new title, too, which requires twice
+      as much to carry it off and make its pinchbeck pass for gold). In order,
+      however, to serve a double purpose, secure to his <i>protegee</i> his own
+      beloved peerage, and atone to his nephew for the loss of wealth&mdash;he
+      has left it a last request, that I should marry the young lady over whom I
+      am appointed guardian, when she is eighteen&mdash;alas! I shall then be at
+      the other side of forty! If she does not take to so mature a bridegroom,
+      she loses thirty&mdash;only thirty of the L200,000 settled upon her, which
+      goes to me as a sugar-plum after the nauseous draught of the young lady&rsquo;s
+      &lsquo;No.&rsquo; Now, you know all. His widow, really an exemplary young woman, has a
+      jointure of L1500 a year, and the villa. It is not much, but she is
+      contented.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The lightness of the new peer&rsquo;s tone revolted Maltravers, and he turned
+      impatiently away. But Lord Vargrave, resolving not to suffer the
+      conversation to glide back to sorrowful subjects, which he always hated,
+      turned round to Ernest, and said, &ldquo;Well, my dear Ernest, I see by the
+      papers that you are to have N&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&lsquo;s late appointment&mdash;it
+      is a very rising office. I congratulate you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have refused,&rdquo; said Maltravers, drily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bless me!&mdash;indeed!&mdash;why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ernest bit his lip, and frowned; but his glance wandering unconsciously at
+      Florence, Lumley thought he detected the true reply to his question, and
+      became mute.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The conversation was afterwards embarrassed and broken up; Lumley went
+      away as soon as he could, and Lady Florence that night had a severe fit,
+      and could not leave her bed the next day. That confinement she had
+      struggled against to the last; and now, day by day, it grew more frequent
+      and inevitable. The steps of Death became accelerated. And Lord Saxingham,
+      wakened at last to the mournful truth, took his place by his daughter&rsquo;s
+      side, and forgot that he was a cabinet minister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0075" id="link2HCH0075">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+ &ldquo;Away, my friends, why take such pains to know
+  What some brave marble soon in church shall show?&rdquo;
+           CRABBE.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      IT may seem strange, but Maltravers had never loved Lady Florence as he
+      did now. Was it the perversity of human nature that makes the things of
+      mortality dearer to us in proportion as they fade from our hopes, like
+      birds whose hues are only unfolded when they take wing and vanish amidst
+      the skies; or was it that he had ever doted more on loveliness of mind
+      than that of form, and the first bloomed out the more, the more the last
+      decayed? A thing to protect, to soothe, to shelter&mdash;oh, how dear it
+      is to the pride of man! The haughty woman who can stand alone and requires
+      no leaning-place in our heart, loses the spell of her sex.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I pass over those stages of decline gratuitously painful to record; and
+      which in this case mine cannot be the cold and technical hand to trace. At
+      length came that time when physicians could define within a few days the
+      final hour of release. And latterly the mocking pruderies of rank had been
+      laid aside, and Maltravers had, for some hours at least in the day, taken
+      his watch beside the couch to which the admired and brilliant Florence
+      Lascelles was now almost constantly reduced. But her high and heroic
+      spirit was with her to the last. To the last she could endure love and
+      hope. One day when Maltravers left his post, she besought him, with more
+      solemnity than usual, to return that evening. She fixed the precise hour,
+      and she sighed heavily when he departed. Maltravers paused in the hall to
+      speak to the physician, who was just quitting Lord Saxingham&rsquo;s library.
+      Ernest spoke to him for some moments calmly, and when he heard the fiat,
+      he betrayed no other emotion than a slight quiver of the lip! &ldquo;I must not
+      weep for her yet,&rdquo; he muttered, as he turned from the door. He went thence
+      to the house of a gentleman of his own age, with whom he had formed that
+      kind of acquaintance which never amounts to familiar friendship, but rests
+      upon mutual respect, and is often more ready than professed friendship
+      itself to confer mutual service. Colonel Danvers was a man who usually sat
+      next to Maltravers in parliament; they voted together, and thought alike
+      on principles both of politics and honour: they would have lent thousands
+      to each other without bond or memorandum; and neither ever wanted a warm
+      and indignant advocate when he was abused behind his back in the presence
+      of the other. Yet their tastes and ordinary habits were not congenial; and
+      when they met in the streets, they never said, as they would to companions
+      they esteemed less, &ldquo;Let us spend the day together!&rdquo; Such forms of
+      acquaintance are not uncommon among honourable men who have already formed
+      habits and pursuits of their own, which they cannot surrender even to
+      friendship. Colonel Danvers was not at home&mdash;they believed he was at
+      his club, of which Ernest also was a member. Thither Maltravers bent his
+      way. On arriving, he found that Danvers had been at the club an hour ago,
+      and left word that he should shortly return. Maltravers entered and
+      quietly sat down. The room was full of its daily loungers; but he did not
+      shrink from, he did not even heed, the crowd. He felt not the desire of
+      solitude&mdash;there was solitude enough within him. Several distinguished
+      public men were there, grouped around the fire, and many of the hangers-on
+      and satellites of political life; they were talking with eagerness and
+      animation, for it was a season of great party conflict. Strange as it may
+      seem, though Maltravers was then scarcely sensible of their conversation,
+      it all came back vividly and faithfully on him afterwards, in the first
+      hours of reflection on his own future plans, and served to deepen and
+      consolidate his disgust of the world. They were discussing the character
+      of a great statesman whom, warmed but by the loftiest and purest motives,
+      they were unable to understand. Their gross suspicions, their coarse
+      jealousies, their calculations of patriotism by place, all that strips the
+      varnish from the face of that fair harlot&mdash;Political Ambition&mdash;sank
+      like caustic into his spirit. A gentleman seeing him sit silent, with his
+      hat over his moody brows, civilly extended to him the paper he was
+      reading.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the second edition; you will find the last French express.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Maltravers; and the civil man started as he heard the
+      brief answer; there was something so inexpressibly prostrate and
+      broken-spirited in the voice that uttered it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers&rsquo;s eyes fell mechanically on the columns, and caught his own
+      name. That work which, in the fair retirement of Temple Grove it had so
+      pleased him to compose&mdash;in every page and every thought of which
+      Florence had been consulted&mdash;which was so inseparably associated with
+      her image, and glorified by the light of her kindred genius&mdash;was just
+      published. It had been completed long since; but the publisher had, for
+      some excellent reason of the craft, hitherto delayed its appearance.
+      Maltravers knew nothing of its publication; he had meant, after his return
+      to town, to have sent to forbid its appearance; but his thoughts of late
+      had crushed everything else out of his memory&mdash;he had forgotten its
+      existence. And now, in all the pomp and parade of authorship, it was sent
+      into the world! <i>Now</i>, <i>now</i>, when it was like an indecent
+      mockery of the Bed of Death&mdash;a sacrilege, an impiety! There is a
+      terrible disconnection between the author and the man&mdash;-the author&rsquo;s
+      life and the man&rsquo;s life&mdash;the eras of visible triumph may be those of
+      the most intolerable, though unrevealed and unconjectured anguish. The
+      book that delighted us to compose may first appear in the hour when all
+      things under the sun are joyless. This had been Ernest Maltravers&rsquo;s most
+      favoured work. It had been conceived in a happy hour of great ambition&mdash;it
+      had been executed with that desire of truth, which, in the mind of genius,
+      becomes ART. How little in the solitary hours stolen from sleep had he
+      thought of self, and that labourer&rsquo;s hire called &ldquo;fame!&rdquo; how had he dreamt
+      that he was promulgating secrets to make his kind better, and wiser, and
+      truer to the great aims of life! How had Florence, and Florence alone,
+      understood the beatings of his heart in every page! <i>And now</i>!&mdash;it
+      so chanced that the work was reviewed in the paper he read&mdash;it was
+      not only a hostile criticism, it was a personally abusive diatribe, a
+      virulent invective. All the motives that can darken or defile were
+      ascribed to him. All the mean spite of some mean mind was sputtered forth.
+      Had the writer known the awful blow that awaited Maltravers at that time,
+      it is not in man&rsquo;s nature but that he would have shrunk from this petty
+      gall upon the wrung withers; but, as I have said, there is a terrible
+      disconnection between the author and the man. The first is always at our
+      mercy&mdash;of the last we know nothing. At such an hour Maltravers could
+      feel none of the contempt that proud&mdash;none of the wrath that vain,
+      minds feel at these stings. He could feel nothing but an undefined
+      abhorrence of the world, and of the aims and objects he had pursued so
+      long. Yet that even he did not then feel. He was in a dream; but as men
+      remember dreams, so when he awoke did he loathe his own former
+      aspirations, and sicken at their base rewards. It was the first time since
+      his first year of inexperienced authorship that abuse had had the power
+      even to vex him for a moment. But here, when the cup was already full, was
+      the drop that overflowed. The great column of his past world was gone, and
+      all else seemed crumbling away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length Colonel Danvers entered. Maltravers drew him aside, and they
+      left the club.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Danvers,&rdquo; said the latter, &ldquo;the time in which I told you I should need
+      your services is near at hand; let me see you, if possible, to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly&mdash;I shall be, at the House till eleven. After that hour you
+      will find me at home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thank you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cannot this matter be arranged amicably?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it is a quarrel of life and death.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet the world is really growing too enlightened for these old mimicries
+      of single combat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are some cases in which human nature and its deep wrongs will be
+      ever stronger than the world and its philosophy. Duels and wars belong to
+      the same principle; both are sinful on light grounds and poor pretexts.
+      But it is not sinful for a soldier to defend his country from invasion,
+      nor for man, with a man&rsquo;s heart, to vindicate truth and honour with his
+      life. The robber that asks me for money I am allowed to shoot. Is the
+      robber that tears from me treasures never to be replaced, to go free?
+      These are the inconsistencies of a pseudo-ethics, which, as long as we are
+      made of flesh and blood, we can never subscribe to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yet the ancients,&rdquo; said Danvers, with a smile, &ldquo;were as passionate as
+      ourselves, and they dispensed with duels.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, because they resorted to assassination!&rdquo; answered Maltravers, with a
+      gloomy frown. &ldquo;As in revolutions all law is suspended, so are there stormy
+      events and mighty injuries in life which are as revolutions to
+      individuals. Enough of this&mdash;it is no time to argue like the
+      schoolmen. When we meet you shall know all, and you will judge like me.
+      Good day!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, are you going already? Maltravers, you look ill, your hand is
+      feverish&mdash;you should take advice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers smiled&mdash;but the smile was not like his own&mdash;shook his
+      head, and strode rapidly away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Three of the London clocks, one after the other, had told the hour of
+      nine, as a tall and commanding figure passed up the street towards
+      Saxingham House. Five doors before you reach that mansion there is a
+      crossing, and at this spot stood a young man, in whose face youth itself
+      looked sapless and blasted. It was then March;&mdash;the third of March;
+      the weather was unusually severe and biting, even for that angry month.
+      There had been snow in the morning, and it lay white and dreary in various
+      ridges along the street. But the wind was not still in the keen but quiet
+      sharpness of frost; on the contrary, it howled almost like a hurricane
+      through the desolate thoroughfares, and the lamps flickered unsteadily in
+      the turbulent gusts. Perhaps it was the blasts which increased the
+      haggardness of aspect in the young man I have mentioned. His hair, which
+      was much longer than is commonly worn, was tossed wildly from cheeks
+      preternaturally shrunken, hollow, and livid: and the frail, thin form
+      seemed scarcely able to support itself against the rush of the winds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the tall figure, which, in its masculine stature and proportions, and a
+      peculiar and nameless grandeur of bearing, strongly contrasted that of the
+      younger man, now came to the spot where the streets met, it paused
+      abruptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are here once more, Castruccio Cesarini; it is well!&rdquo; said the low
+      but ringing voice of Ernest Maltravers. &ldquo;This, I believe, will not be our
+      last interview to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I ask you, sir,&rdquo; said Cesarini, in a tone in which pride struggled with
+      emotion&mdash;&ldquo;I ask you to tell me how she is; whether you know&mdash;I
+      cannot speak&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your work is nearly done,&rdquo; answered Maltravers. &ldquo;A few hours more, and
+      your victim, for she is yours, will bear her tale to the Great Judgment
+      Seat. Murderer as you are, tremble, for your own hour approaches!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She dies and I cannot see her! and you are permitted that last glimpse of
+      human perfectness; you who never loved her as I did; you&mdash;hated and
+      detested! you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cesarini paused, and his voice died away, choked in his own convulsive
+      gaspings for breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers looked at him from the height of his erect and lofty form, with
+      a merciless eye; for in this one quarter, Maltravers had shut out pity
+      from his soul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Weak criminal!&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;hear me. You received at my hands forbearance,
+      friendship, fostering and anxious care. When your own follies plunged you
+      into penury, mine was the unseen hand that plucked you from famine, or the
+      prison. I strove to redeem, and save, and raise you, and endow your
+      miserable spirit with the thirst and the power of honour and independence.
+      The agent of that wish was Florence Lascelles; you repaid us well! a base
+      and fraudulent forgery, attaching meanness to me, fraught with agony and
+      death to her. Your conscience at last smote you; you revealed to her your
+      crime&mdash;one spark of manhood made you reveal it also to myself. Fresh
+      as I was in that moment from the contemplations of the ruin you had made,
+      I curbed the impulse that would have crushed the life from your bosom. I
+      told you to live on while life was left to her. If she recovered, I could
+      forgive; if she died, I must avenge. We entered into that solemn compact,
+      and in a few hours the bond will need the seal: it is the blood of one of
+      us. Castruccio Cesarini, there is justice in Heaven. Deceive yourself not;
+      you will fall by my hand. When the hour comes, you will hear from me. Let
+      me pass&mdash;I have no more now to say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Every syllable of this speech was uttered with that thrilling distinctness
+      which seems as if the depth of the heart spoke in the voice. But Cesarini
+      did not appear to understand its import. He seized Maltravers by the arm,
+      and looked in his face with a wild and menacing glare.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you tell me she was dying?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I ask you that question: why do
+      you not answer me? Oh, by the way, you threaten me with your vengeance.
+      Know you not that I long to meet you front to front, and to the death? Did
+      I not tell you so&mdash;did I not try to move your slow blood&mdash;to
+      insult you into a conflict in which I should have gloried? Yet then you
+      were marble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because <i>my</i> wrong I could forgive, and <i>hers</i>&mdash;there was
+      then a hope that hers might not need the atonement. Away!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers shook the hold of the Italian from his arm, and passed on. A
+      wild, sharp yell of despair rang after him, and echoed in his ear as he
+      strode the long, dim, solitary stairs that led to the death-bed of
+      Florence Lascelles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers entered the room adjoining that which contained the sufferer&mdash;the
+      same room, still gay and cheerful, in which had been his first interview
+      with Florence since their reconciliation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here he found the physician dozing in a <i>fauteuil</i>. Lady Florence had
+      fallen asleep during the last two or three hours. Lord Saxingham was in
+      his own apartment, deeply and noisily affected; for it was not thought
+      that Florence could survive the night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers sat himself quietly down. Before him, on a table, lay several
+      manuscript books, gaily and gorgeously bound; he mechanically opened them.
+      Florence&rsquo;s fair, noble Italian characters met his eye in every page. Her
+      rich and active mind, her love for poetry, her thirst for knowledge, her
+      indulgence of deep thought, spoke from those pages like the ghosts of
+      herself. Often, underscored with the marks of her approbation, he chanced
+      upon extracts from his own works, sometimes upon reflections by the writer
+      herself, not inferior in truth and depth to his own; snatches of wild
+      verse never completed, but of a power and energy beyond the delicate grace
+      of lady-poets; brief, vigorous criticisms on books, above the common
+      holiday studies of the sex; indignant and sarcastic aphorisms on the real
+      world, with high and sad bursts of feeling upon the ideal one; all
+      chequering and enriching the various volumes, told of the rare gifts with
+      which this singular girl was endowed&mdash;a herbal, as it were, of
+      withered blossoms that might have borne Hesperian fruits. And sometimes in
+      these outpourings of the full mind and laden heart were allusions to
+      himself, so tender and so touching&mdash;the pencilled outline of his
+      features, traced by memory in a thousand aspects&mdash;the reference to
+      former interviews and conversations&mdash;the dates and hours marked with
+      a woman&rsquo;s minute and treasuring care!&mdash;all these tokens of genius and
+      of love spoke to him with a voice that said, &ldquo;And this creature is lost to
+      you, forever: you never appreciated her till the time for her departure
+      was irrevocably fixed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers uttered a deep groan; all the past rushed over him. Her
+      romantic passion for one yet unknown&mdash;her interest in his glory&mdash;her
+      zeal for his life of life, his spotless and haughty name. It was as if
+      with her, Fame and Ambition were dying also, and henceforth nothing but
+      common clay and sordid motives were to be left on earth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How sudden&mdash;how awfully sudden had been the blow! True, there had
+      been an absence of some months in which the change had operated. But
+      absence is a blank, a nonentity. He had left her in apparent health, in
+      the time of prosperity and pride. He saw her again&mdash;stricken down in
+      body and temper&mdash;chastened&mdash;humbled&mdash;dying. And this being,
+      so bright and lofty, how had she loved him! Never had he been so loved,
+      except in that morning dream, haunted by the vision of the lost and
+      dim-remembered Alice. Never on earth could he be so loved again. The air
+      and aspect of the whole chamber grew to him painful and oppressive. It was
+      full of her&mdash;the owner! There the harp, which so well became her
+      muse-like form that it was associated with her like a part of herself!
+      There the pictures, fresh and glowing from her hand,-the grace&mdash;the
+      harmony&mdash;the classic and simple taste everywhere displayed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rousseau has left to us an immortal portrait of the lover waiting for the
+      first embraces of his mistress. But to wait with a pulse as feverish, a
+      brain as dizzy, for her last look&mdash;to await the moment of despair,
+      not rapture&mdash;to feel the slow and dull time as palpable a load upon
+      the heart, yet to shrink from your own impatience, and wish that the agony
+      of suspense might endure for ever&mdash;this, oh, this is a picture of
+      intense passion&mdash;of flesh and blood reality&mdash;of the rare and
+      solemn epochs of our mysterious life&mdash;which had been worthier the
+      genius of that &ldquo;Apostle of Affliction&rdquo;!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At length the door opened; the favourite attendant of Florence looked in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Mr. Maltravers there? Oh, sir, my lady is awake and would see you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers rose, but his feet were glued to the ground, his sinking heart
+      stood still&mdash;it was a mortal terror that possessed him. With a deep
+      sigh he shook off the numbing spell, and passed to the bedside of
+      Florence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She sat up, propped by pillows, and as he sank beside her, and clasped her
+      wan, transparent hand, she looked at him with a smile of pitying love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been very, very kind to me,&rdquo; she said, after a pause, and with a
+      voice which had altered even since the last time he heard it. &ldquo;You have
+      made that part of life from which human nature shrinks with dread, the
+      happiest and the brightest of all my short and vain existence. My own
+      clear Ernest&mdash;Heaven reward you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A few grateful tears dropped from her eyes, and they fell on the hand
+      which she bent her lips to kiss.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was not here&mdash;nor amidst the streets and the noisy abodes of
+      anxious, worldly men&mdash;nor was it in this harsh and dreary season of
+      the year, that I could have wished to look my last on earth. Could I have
+      seen the face of Nature&mdash;could I have watched once more with the
+      summer sun amidst those gentle scenes we loved so well, Death would have
+      had no difference from sleep. But what matters it? With you there are
+      summer and Nature everywhere!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers raised his face, and their eyes met in silence&mdash;it was a
+      long, fixed gaze, which spoke more than all words could. Her head dropped
+      on his shoulder, and there it lay, passive and motionless, for some
+      moments. A soft step glided into the room&mdash;it was the unhappy
+      father&rsquo;s. He came to the other side of his daughter, and sobbed
+      convulsively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She then raised herself, and even in the shades of death, a faint blush
+      passed over her cheek.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My good dear father, what comfort will it give you hereafter to think how
+      fondly you spoiled your Florence!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lord Saxingham could not answer: he clasped her in his arms and wept over
+      her. Then he broke away&mdash;looked on her with a shudder&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O God!&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;she is dead&mdash;she is dead!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers started. The physician kindly approached, and, taking Lord
+      Saxingham&rsquo;s hand, led him from the room&mdash;he went mute and obedient
+      like a child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the struggle was not yet past. Florence once more opened her eyes, and
+      Maltravers uttered a cry of joy. But along those eyes the film was
+      darkening rapidly, as still through the mist and shadow they sought the
+      beloved countenance which hung over her, as if to breathe life into waning
+      life. Twice her lips moved, but her voice failed her; she shook her head
+      sadly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers hastily held to her mouth a cordial which lay ready on the
+      table near her, but scarce had it moistened her lips, when her whole frame
+      grew heavier and heavier, in his clasp. Her head once more sank upon his
+      bosom&mdash;she thrice gasped wildly for breath&mdash;and at length,
+      raising her hand on high, life struggled into its expiring ray.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;<i>There</i>&mdash;above!&mdash;Ernest&mdash;that name&mdash;Ernest!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes, that name was the last she uttered; she was evidently conscious of
+      that thought, for a smile, as her voice again faltered&mdash;a smile sweet
+      and serene&mdash;that smile never seen but on the faces of the dying and
+      the dead&mdash;borrowed from a light that is not of this world&mdash;settled
+      slowly on her brow, her lips, her whole countenance; still she breathed,
+      but the breath grew fainter! at length, without murmur, sound, or
+      struggle, it passed away&mdash;the head dropped from his bosom&mdash;the
+      form fell from his arms-all was over!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0076" id="link2HCH0076">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VIII.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  * * * * &ldquo;Is this the promised end?&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Lear</i>.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      IT was two hours after that scene before Maltravers left the house. It was
+      then just on the stroke of the first hour of morning. To him, while he
+      walked through the streets, and the sharp winds howled on his path, it was
+      as if a strange and wizard life had passed into and supported him&mdash;a
+      sort of drowsy, dull existence. He was like a sleepwalker, unconscious of
+      all around him; yet his steps went safe and free; and the one thought that
+      possessed his being&mdash;into which all intellect seemed shrunk&mdash;the
+      thought, not fiery nor vehement, but calm, stern, and solemn&mdash;the
+      thought of revenge&mdash;seemed, as it were, grown his soul itself. He
+      arrived at the door of Colonel Danvers, mounted the stairs, and as his
+      friend advanced to meet him, said calmly, &ldquo;Now, then, the hour has
+      arrived.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what would you do now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come with me, and you shall learn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, my carriage is below. Will you direct the servants?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maltravers nodded, gave his orders to the careless footman, and the two
+      friends were soon driving through the less known and courtly regions of
+      the giant city. It was then that Maltravers concisely stated to Danvers
+      the fraud that had been practised by Cesarini.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will go with me now,&rdquo; concluded Maltravers, &ldquo;to his house. To do him
+      justice, he is no coward; he has not shrunk from giving me his address,
+      nor will he shrink from the atonement I demand. I shall wait below while
+      you arrange our meeting&mdash;at daybreak for to-morrow.&rdquo; Danvers was
+      astonished and even appalled by the discovery made to him. There was
+      something so unusual and strange in the whole affair. But neither his
+      experience, nor his principles of honour, could suggest any alternative to
+      the plan proposed. For though not regarding the cause of quarrel in the
+      same light as Maltravers, and putting aside all question as to the right
+      of the latter to constitute himself the champion of the betrothed, or the
+      avenger of the dead, it seemed clear to the soldier that a man whose
+      confidential letter had been garbled by another for the purpose of
+      slandering his truth and calumniating his name, had no option but
+      contempt, or the sole retribution (wretched though it be) which the
+      customs of the higher class permit to those who live within its pale. But
+      contempt for a wrong that a sorrow so tragic had followed&mdash;was <i>that</i>
+      option in human philosophy?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The carriage stopped at a door in a narrow lane in an obscure suburb. Yet,
+      dark as all the houses around were, lights were seen in the upper windows
+      of Cesarini&rsquo;s residence, passing to and fro; and scarce had the servant&rsquo;s
+      loud knock echoed through the dim thoroughfare, ere the door was opened.
+      Danvers descended, and entered the passage&mdash;&ldquo;Oh, sir, I am so glad
+      you are come!&rdquo; said an old woman, pale and trembling; &ldquo;he do take on so!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no mistake,&rdquo; asked Danvers, halting; &ldquo;an Italian gentleman named
+      Cesarini lodges here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, poor cretur&mdash;I sent for you to come to him&mdash;for says
+      I to my boy, says I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whom do you take me for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, la, sir, you be&rsquo;s the doctor, ben&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Danvers made no reply; he had a mean opinion of the courage of one who
+      could act dishonourably; he thought there was some design to cheat his
+      friend out of his revenge; accordingly he ascended the stairs, motioning
+      the woman to precede him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He came back to the door of the carriage in a few minutes. &ldquo;Let us go
+      home, Maltravers,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;this man is not in a state to meet you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha!&rdquo; cried Maltravers, frowning darkly, and all his long-smothered
+      indignation rushing like fire through every vein of his body; &ldquo;would he
+      shrink from the atonement?&rdquo; He pushed Danvers impatiently aside, leapt
+      from the carriage, and rushed up-stairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Danvers followed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Heated, wrought-up, furious, Ernest Maltravers burst into a small and
+      squalid chamber; from the closed doors of which, through many chinks, had
+      gleamed the light that told him Cesarini was within. And Cesarini&rsquo;s eyes,
+      blazing with horrible fire, were the first object that met his gaze.
+      Maltravers stood still, as if frozen into stone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! ha!&rdquo; laughed a shrill and shrieking voice, which contrasted dreadly
+      with the accents of the soft Tuscan, in which the wild words were strung&mdash;&ldquo;who
+      comes here with garments dyed in blood? You cannot accuse me&mdash;for my
+      blow drew no blood, it went straight to the heart&mdash;it tore no flesh
+      by the way; we Italians poison our victims! Where art thou&mdash;where art
+      thou, Maltravers? I am ready. Coward, you do not come! Oh, yes, yes, here
+      you are; the pistols&mdash;I will not fight so. I am a wild beast. Let us
+      rend each other with our teeth and talons!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Huddled up like a heap of confused and jointless limbs in the furthest
+      corner of the room, lay the wretch, a raving maniac;&mdash;two men keeping
+      their firm gripe on him, which, ever and anon, with the mighty strength of
+      madness, he shook off, to fall back senseless and exhausted; his strained
+      and bloodshot eyes starting from their sockets, the slaver gathering round
+      his lips, his raven hair standing on end, his delicate and symmetrical
+      features distorted into a hideous and Gorgon aspect. It was, indeed, an
+      appalling and sublime spectacle, full of an awful moral, the meeting of
+      the foes! Here stood Maltravers, strong beyond the common strength of men,
+      in health, power, conscious superiority, premeditated vengeance&mdash;wise,
+      gifted; all his faculties ripe, developed, at his command;&mdash;the
+      complete and all-armed man, prepared for defence and offence against every
+      foe&mdash;a man who, once roused in a righteous quarrel, would not have
+      quailed before an army; and there and thus was his dark and fierce purpose
+      dashed from his soul, shivered into atoms at his feet. He felt the
+      nothingness of man and man&rsquo;s wrath&mdash;in the presence of the madman on
+      whose head the thunderbolt of a greater curse than human anger ever
+      breathes had fallen. In his horrible affliction the Criminal triumphed
+      over the Avenger!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes! yes!&rdquo; shouted Cesarini, again; &ldquo;they tell me she is dying; but he is
+      by her side;&mdash;pluck him thence&mdash;he shall not touch her hand&mdash;she
+      shall not bless him&mdash;she is mine&mdash;if I killed her, I have saved
+      her from him&mdash;she is mine in death. Let me in, I say,&mdash;I will
+      come in,&mdash;I will, I will see her, and strangle him at her feet.&rdquo; With
+      that, by a tremendous effort, he tore himself from the clutch of his
+      holders, and with a sudden and exultant bound sprang across the room, and
+      stood face to face with Maltravers. The proud brave than turned pale, and
+      recoiled a step&mdash;&ldquo;It is he! it is he!&rdquo; shrieked the maniac, and he
+      leaped like a tiger at the throat of his rival. Maltravers quickly seized
+      his arm, and whirled him round. Cesarini fell heavily on the floor, mute,
+      senseless, and in strong convulsions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mysterious Providence!&rdquo; murmured Maltravers, &ldquo;thou hast justly rebuked
+      the mortal for dreaming he might arrogate to himself thy privilege of
+      vengeance. Forgive the sinner, O God, as I do&mdash;as thou teachest this
+      stubborn heart to forgive&mdash;as she forgave who is now with thee, a
+      blessed saint in heaven!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When, some minutes afterwards, the doctor, who had been sent for, arrived,
+      the head of the stricken patient lay on the lap of his foe, and it was the
+      hand of Maltravers that wiped the froth from the white lips, and the voice
+      of Maltravers that strove to soothe, and the tears of Maltravers that were
+      falling on that fiery brow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tend him, sir, tend him as my brother,&rdquo; said Maltravers, hiding his face
+      as he resigned the charge. &ldquo;Let him have all that can alleviate and cure&mdash;remove
+      him hence to some fitter abode&mdash;send for the best advice. Restore
+      him, and&mdash;and&mdash;&rdquo; He could say no more, but left the room
+      abruptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was afterwards ascertained that Cesarini had remained in the streets
+      after his short interview with Ernest, that at length he had knocked at
+      Lord Saxingham&rsquo;s door just in the very hour when death had claimed its
+      victim. He heard the announcement&mdash;he sought to force his way
+      up-stairs&mdash;they thrust him from the house, and nothing more of him
+      was known till he arrived at his own door, an hour before Danvers and
+      Maltravers came, in raging frenzy. Perhaps by one of the dim erratic
+      gleams of light which always chequer the darkness of insanity, he retained
+      some faint remembrance of his compact and assignation with Maltravers,
+      which had happily guided his steps back to his abode.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      It was two months after this scene, a lovely Sabbath morning, in the
+      earliest May, as Lumley, Lord Vargrave, sat alone, by the window in his
+      late uncle&rsquo;s villa, in his late uncle&rsquo;s easy-chair&mdash;his eyes were
+      resting musingly on the green lawn on which the windows opened, or rather
+      on two forms that were seated upon a rustic bench in the middle of the
+      sward. One was the widow in her weeds, the other was that fair and lovely
+      child destined to be the bride of the new lord. The hands of the mother
+      and daughter were clasped each in each. There was sadness in the faces of
+      both&mdash;deeper if more resigned on that of the elder, for the child
+      sought to console her parent, and grief in childhood comes with a
+      butterfly&rsquo;s wing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lumley gazed on them both, and on the child more earnestly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is very lovely,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;she will be very rich. After all, I am not
+      to be pitied. I am a peer, and I have enough to live upon at present. I am
+      a rising man&mdash;our party wants peers; and though I could not have had
+      more than a subaltern&rsquo;s seat at the Treasury Board six months ago, when I
+      was an active, zealous, able commoner, now that I am a lord, with what
+      they call a stake in the country, I may open my mouth and&mdash;bless me!
+      I know not how many windfalls may drop in! My uncle was wiser than I
+      thought in wrestling for this peerage, which he won and I wear!&mdash;Then,
+      by and by, just at the age when I want to marry and have an heir (and a
+      pretty wife saves one a vast deal of trouble), L200,000 and a young
+      beauty! Come, come, I have strong cards in my hands if I play them
+      tolerably. I must take care that she falls desperately in love with me.
+      Leave me alone for that&mdash;I know the sex, and have never failed except
+      in&mdash;ah, that poor Florence! Well, it is no use regretting! Like
+      thrifty artists, we must paint out the unmarketable picture, and call
+      luckier creations to fill up the same canvas!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here the servant interrupted Lord Vargrave&rsquo;s meditation by bringing in the
+      letters and the newspapers which had just been forwarded from his town
+      house. Lord Vargrave had spoken in the Lords on the previous Friday, and
+      he wished to see what the Sunday newspapers said of his speech. So he took
+      up one of the leading papers before he opened the letters. His eyes rested
+      upon two paragraphs in close neighbourhood with each other: the first ran
+      thus:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The celebrated Mr. Maltravers has abruptly resigned his seat for the
+      &mdash;&mdash;&mdash; of &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;, and left town yesterday on
+      an extended tour on the Continent. Speculation is busy on the causes of
+      the singular and unexpected self-exile of a gentleman so distinguished&mdash;in
+      the very zenith of his career.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So, he has given up the game!&rdquo; muttered Lord Vargrave; &ldquo;he was never a
+      practical man&mdash;I am glad he is out of the way. But what&rsquo;s this about
+      myself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We hear that important changes are to take place in the government&mdash;-it
+      is said that ministers are at last alive to the necessity of strengthening
+      themselves with new talent. Among other appointments confidently spoken of
+      in the best-informed circles, we learn that Lord Vargrave is to have the
+      place of &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;. It will be a popular appointment. Lord
+      Vargrave is not a holiday orator, a mere declamatory rhetorician&mdash;but
+      a man of clear business-like views, and was highly thought of in the House
+      of Commons. He has also the art of attaching his friends, and his frank,
+      manly character cannot fail to have its due effect with the English
+      public. In another column of our journal our readers will see a full
+      report of his excellent maiden speech in the House of Lords, on Friday
+      last: the sentiments there expressed do the highest honour to his
+      lordship&rsquo;s patriotism and sagacity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, very well indeed!&rdquo; said Lumley, rubbing his hands; and turning
+      to his letters, his attention was drawn to one with an enormous seal,
+      marked &ldquo;Private and confidential.&rdquo; He knew before he opened it that it
+      contained the offer of the appointment alluded to in the newspaper. He
+      read, and rose exultantly; passing through the French windows, he joined
+      Lady Vargrave and Evelyn on the lawn, and, as he smiled on the mother and
+      caressed the child, the scene and the group made a pleasant picture of
+      English domestic happiness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here ends the First Portion of this work: it ends in the view that bounds
+      us when we look on the practical world with the outward unspiritual eye&mdash;and
+      see life that dissatisfies justice,&mdash;for life is so seen but in
+      fragments. The influence of fate seems so small on the man who, in erring,
+      but errs as the egotist, and shapes out of ill some use that can profit
+      himself. But Fate hangs a shadow so vast on the heart that errs but in
+      venturing and knows only in others the sources of sorrow and joy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Go alone, O Maltravers, unfriendly, remote&mdash;thy present a waste, and
+      thy past life a ruin, go forth to the future!&mdash;Go, Ferrers, light
+      cynic&mdash;with the crowd take thy way,&mdash;complacent, elated,&mdash;no
+      cloud upon conscience, for thou seest but sunshine on fortune.&mdash;Go
+      forth to the future!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Human life is compared to the circle.&mdash;Is the simile just? All lines
+      that are drawn from the centre to touch the circumference, by the law of
+      the circle, are equal. But the lines that are drawn from the heart of the
+      man to the verge of his destiny&mdash;do they equal each other?&mdash;Alas!
+      some seem so brief, and some lengthen on as for ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      THE END <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+
+
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+</pre>
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+Project Gutenberg's Ernest Maltravers, Complete, by Edward Bulwer-Lytton
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Ernest Maltravers, Complete
+
+Author: Edward Bulwer-Lytton
+
+Release Date: March 16, 2009 [EBook #7649]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ERNEST MALTRAVERS, COMPLETE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger and Dagny
+
+
+
+
+
+ERNEST MALTRAVERS
+
+By Edward Bulwer Lytton
+
+(Lord Lytton)
+
+
+
+DEDICATION:
+
+   TO
+   THE GREAT GERMAN PEOPLE,
+   A race of thinkers and of critics;
+   A foreign but familiar audience,
+   Profound in judgment, candid in reproof, generous in appreciation,
+   This work is dedicated
+   By an English Author.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1840.
+
+HOWEVER numerous the works of fiction with which, my dear Reader, I
+have trespassed on your attention, I have published but three, of any
+account, in which the plot has been cast amidst the events, and coloured
+by the manner, of our own times. The first of these, _Pelham_, composed
+when I was little more than a boy, has the faults, and perhaps the
+merits, natural to a very early age,--when the novelty itself of
+life quickens the observation,--when we see distinctly, and represent
+vividly, what lies upon the surface of the world,--and when, half
+sympathising with the follies we satirise, there is a gusto in our
+paintings which atones for their exaggeration. As we grow older we
+observe less, we reflect more; and, like Frankenstein, we dissect in
+order to create.
+
+The second novel of the present day,* which, after an interval of some
+years, I submitted to the world, was one I now, for the first time,
+acknowledge, and which (revised and corrected) will be included in this
+series, viz., _Godolphin_;--a work devoted to a particular portion
+of society, and the development of a peculiar class of character. The
+third, which I now reprint, is _Ernest Maltravers_,** the most mature,
+and, on the whole, the most comprehensive of all that I have hitherto
+written.
+
+* For _The Disowned_ is cast in the time of our grandfathers, and _The
+Pilgrims of the Rhine_ had nothing to do with actual life, and is not,
+therefore, to be called a novel.
+
+** At the date of this preface _Night and Morning_ had not appeared.
+
+For the original idea, which, with humility, I will venture to call the
+philosophical design of a moral education or apprenticeship, I have left
+it easy to be seen that I am indebted to Goethe's _Wilhelm Meister_.
+But, in _Wilhelm Meister_, the apprenticeship is rather that of
+theoretical art. In the more homely plan that I set before myself, the
+apprenticeship is rather that of practical life. And, with this view,
+it has been especially my study to avoid all those attractions lawful in
+romance, or tales of pure humour or unbridled fancy, attractions
+that, in the language of reviewers, are styled under the head of "most
+striking descriptions," "scenes of extraordinary power," etc.; and are
+derived from violent contrasts and exaggerations pushed into caricature.
+It has been my aim to subdue and tone down the persons introduced, and
+the general agencies of the narrative, into the lights and shadows of
+life as it is. I do not mean by "life as it is," the vulgar and the
+outward life alone, but life in its spiritual and mystic as well as
+its more visible and fleshly characteristics. The idea of not only
+describing, but developing character under the ripening influences
+of time and circumstance, is not confined to the apprenticeship of
+Maltravers alone, but pervades the progress of Cesarini, Ferrers, and
+Alice Darvil.
+
+The original conception of Alice is taken from real life--from a person
+I never saw but twice, and then she was no longer young--but whose
+history made on me a deep impression. Her early ignorance and home--her
+first love--the strange and affecting fidelity that she maintained, in
+spite of new ties--her final re-meeting, almost in middle-age, with one
+lost and adored almost in childhood--all this, as shown in the novel, is
+but the imperfect transcript of the true adventures of a living woman.
+
+In regard to Maltravers himself, I must own that I have but inadequately
+struggled against the great and obvious difficulty of representing an
+author living in our own times, with whose supposed works or alleged
+genius and those of any one actually existing, the reader can establish
+no identification, and he is therefore either compelled constantly to
+humour the delusion by keeping his imagination on the stretch, or lazily
+driven to confound the Author _in_ the Book with the Author _of_ the
+Book.* But I own, also, I fancied, while aware of this objection, and
+in spite of it, that so much not hitherto said might be conveyed with
+advantage through the lips or in the life of an imaginary writer of
+our own time, that I was contented, on the whole, either to task the
+imagination, or submit to the suspicions of the reader. All that my
+own egotism appropriates in the book are some occasional remarks, the
+natural result of practical experience. With the life or the character,
+the adventures or the humours, the errors or the good qualities, of
+Maltravers himself, I have nothing to do, except as the narrator and
+inventor.
+
+* In some foreign journal I have been much amused by a credulity of this
+latter description, and seen the various adventures of Mr. Maltravers
+gravely appropriated to the embellishment of my own life, including the
+attachment to the original of poor Alice Darvil; who now, by the way,
+must be at least seventy years of age, with a grandchild nearly as old
+as myself.
+
+E. B. L.
+
+
+
+
+A WORD TO THE READER PREFIXED TO THE FIRST EDITION OF 1837.
+
+THOU must not, my old and partial friend, look into this work for
+that species of interest which is drawn from stirring adventures and
+a perpetual variety of incident. To a Novel of the present day are
+necessarily forbidden the animation, the excitement, the bustle, the
+pomp, and the stage effect which History affords to Romance. Whatever
+merits, in thy gentle eyes, _Rienzi_, or _The Last Days of Pompeii_, may
+have possessed, this Tale, if it please thee at all, must owe that happy
+fortune to qualities widely different from those which won thy favour
+to pictures of the Past. Thou must sober down thine imagination,
+and prepare thyself for a story not dedicated to the narrative of
+extraordinary events--nor the elucidation of the characters of great
+men. Though there is scarcely a page in this work episodical to the main
+design, there may be much that may seem to thee wearisome and prolix,
+if thou wilt not lend thyself, in a kindly spirit, and with a generous
+trust, to the guidance of the Author. In the hero of this tale thou wilt
+find neither a majestic demigod, nor a fascinating demon. He is a man
+with the weaknesses derived from humanity, with the strength that
+we inherit from the soul; not often obstinate in error, more often
+irresolute in virtue; sometimes too aspiring, sometimes too despondent;
+influenced by the circumstances to which he yet struggles to be
+superior, and changing in character with the changes of time and fate;
+but never wantonly rejecting those great principles by which alone we
+can work the Science of Life--a desire for the Good, a passion for the
+Honest, a yearning after the True. From such principles, Experience,
+that severe Mentor, teaches us at length the safe and practical
+philosophy which consists of Fortitude to bear, Serenity to enjoy, and
+Faith to look beyond!
+
+It would have led, perhaps, to more striking incidents, and have
+furnished an interest more intense, if I had cast Maltravers, the Man
+of Genius, amidst those fierce but ennobling struggles with poverty and
+want to which genius is so often condemned. But wealth and lassitude
+have their temptations as well as penury and toil. And for the rest--I
+have taken much of my tale and many of my characters from real life, and
+would not unnecessarily seek other fountains when the Well of Truth was
+in my reach.
+
+The Author has said his say, he retreats once more into silence and into
+shade; he leaves you alone with the creations he has called to life--the
+representatives of his emotions and his thoughts--the intermediators
+between the individual and the crowd. Children not of the clay, but of
+the spirit, may they be faithful to their origin!--so should they be
+monitors, not loud but deep, of the world into which they are cast,
+struggling against the obstacles that will beset them, for the heritage
+of their parent--the right to survive the grave!
+
+LONDON, August 12th, 1837.
+
+
+
+
+ERNEST MALTRAVERS.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK I.
+
+ "Youth pastures in a valley of its own:
+  The glare of noon--the rains and winds of heaven
+  Mar not the calm yet virgin of all care.
+  But ever with sweet joys it buildeth up
+  The airy halls of life."
+   SOPH. _Trachim_. 144-147.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ "My meaning in't, I protest, was very honest in the behalf of the
+  maid * * * * yet, who would have suspected an ambush where I was
+  taken?"
+   _All's Well that Ends Well_, Act iv. Sc. 3.
+
+SOME four miles distant from one of our northern manufacturing towns, in
+the year 18--, was a wide and desolate common; a more dreary spot it is
+impossible to conceive--the herbage grew up in sickly patches from the
+midst of a black and stony soil. Not a tree was to be seen in the whole
+of the comfortless expanse. Nature herself had seemed to desert the
+solitude, as if scared by the ceaseless din of the neighbouring forges;
+and even Art, which presses all things into service, had disdained to
+cull use or beauty from these unpromising demesnes. There was something
+weird and primeval in the aspect of the place; especially when in the
+long nights of winter you beheld the distant fires and lights which give
+to the vicinity of certain manufactories so preternatural an appearance,
+streaming red and wild over the waste. So abandoned by man appeared the
+spot, that you found it difficult to imagine that it was only from human
+fires that its bleak and barren desolation was illumined. For miles
+along the moor you detected no vestige of any habitation; but as you
+approached the verge nearest to the town, you could just perceive at a
+little distance from the main road, by which the common was intersected,
+a small, solitary, and miserable hovel.
+
+Within this lonely abode, at the time in which my story opens, were
+seated two persons. The one was a man of about fifty years of age, and
+in a squalid and wretched garb, which was yet relieved by an affectation
+of ill-assorted finery. A silk handkerchief, which boasted the ornament
+of a large brooch of false stones, was twisted jauntily round a muscular
+but meagre throat; his tattered breeches were also decorated by buckles,
+one of pinchbeck, and one of steel. His frame was lean, but broad
+and sinewy, indicative of considerable strength. His countenance was
+prematurely marked by deep furrows, and his grizzled hair waved over
+a low, rugged, and forbidding brow, on which there hung an everlasting
+frown that no smile from the lips (and the man smiled often) could chase
+away. It was a face that spoke of long-continued and hardened vice--it
+was one in which the Past had written indelible characters. The brand
+of the hangman could not have stamped it more plainly, nor have more
+unequivocally warned the suspicion of honest or timid men.
+
+He was employed in counting some few and paltry coins, which, though an
+easy matter to ascertain their value, he told and retold, as if the act
+could increase the amount. "There must be some mistake here, Alice," he
+said in a low and muttered tone: "we can't be so low--you know I had two
+pounds in the drawer but Monday, and now--Alice, you must have stolen
+some of the money--curse you."
+
+The person thus addressed sat at the opposite side of the smouldering
+and sullen fire; she now looked quietly up, and her face singularly
+contrasted that of the man.
+
+She seemed about fifteen years of age, and her complexion was remarkably
+pure and delicate, even despite the sunburnt tinge which her habits of
+toil had brought it. Her auburn hair hung in loose and natural curls
+over her forehead, and its luxuriance was remarkable even in one so
+young. Her countenance was beautiful, nay, even faultless, in its
+small and child-like features, but the expression pained you--it was so
+vacant. In repose it was almost the expression of an idiot--but when she
+spoke or smiled, or even moved a muscle, the eyes, colour, lips, kindled
+into a life, which proved that the intellect was still there, though but
+imperfectly awakened.
+
+"I did not steal any, father," she said in a quiet voice; "but I should
+like to have taken some, only I knew you would beat me if I did."
+
+"And what do you want money for?"
+
+"To get food when I'm hungered."
+
+"Nothing else?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+The girl paused.--"Why don't you let me," she said, after a while, "why
+don't you let me go and work with the other girls at the factory? I
+should make money there for you and me both."
+
+The man smiled--such a smile--it seemed to bring into sudden play all
+the revolting characteristics of his countenance. "Child," he said, "you
+are just fifteen, and a sad fool you are: perhaps if you went to the
+factory, you would get away from me; and what should I do without you?
+No, I think, as you are so pretty, you might get more money another
+way."
+
+The girl did not seem to understand this allusion: but repeated,
+vacantly, "I should like to go to the factory."
+
+"Stuff!" said the man, angrily; "I have three minds to--"
+
+Here he was interrupted by a loud knock at the door of the hovel.
+
+The man grew pale. "What can that be?" he muttered. "The hour is
+late--near eleven. Again--again! Ask who knocks, Alice."
+
+The girl stood for a moment or so at the door; and as she stood, her
+form, rounded yet slight, her earnest look, her varying colour, her
+tender youth, and a singular grace of attitude and gesture, would have
+inspired an artist with the very ideal of rustic beauty.
+
+After a pause, she placed her lips to a chink in the door, and repeated
+her father's question.
+
+"Pray pardon me," said a clear, loud, yet courteous voice, "but seeing
+a light at your window, I have ventured to ask if any one within will
+conduct me to ------; I will pay the service handsomely."
+
+"Open the door, Alley," said the owner of the hut.
+
+The girl drew a large wooden bolt from the door; and a tall figure
+crossed the threshold.
+
+The new-comer was in the first bloom of youth, perhaps about eighteen
+years of age, and his air and appearance surprised both sire and
+daughter. Alone, on foot, at such an hour, it was impossible for any one
+to mistake him for other than a gentleman; yet his dress was plain
+and somewhat soiled by dust, and he carried a small knapsack on his
+shoulder. As he entered, he lifted his hat with somewhat of foreign
+urbanity, and a profusion of fair brown hair fell partially over a
+high and commanding forehead. His features were handsome, without being
+eminently so, and his aspect was at once bold and prepossessing.
+
+"I am much obliged by your civility," he said, advancing carelessly
+and addressing the man, who surveyed him with a scrutinising eye;
+"and trust, my good fellow, that you will increase the obligation by
+accompanying me to ------."
+
+"You can't miss well your way," said the man surlily: "the lights will
+direct you."
+
+"They have rather misled me, for they seem to surround the whole common,
+and there is no path across it that I can see; however, if you will put
+me in the right road, I will not trouble you further."
+
+"It is very late," replied the churlish landlord, equivocally.
+
+"The better reason why I should be at ------. Come, my good friend, put
+on your hat, and I will give you half a guinea for your trouble."
+
+The man advanced, then halted; again surveyed his guest, and said, "Are
+you quite alone, sir?"
+
+"Quite."
+
+"Probably you are known at ------?"
+
+"Not I. But what matters that to you? I am a stranger in these parts."
+
+"It is full four miles."
+
+"So far, and I am fearfully tired already!" exclaimed the young man with
+impatience. As he spoke he drew out his watch. "Past eleven too!"
+
+The watch caught the eye of the cottager; that evil eye sparkled. He
+passed his hand over his brow. "I am thinking, sir," he said in a more
+civil tone than he had yet assumed, "that as you are so tired and the
+hour is so late, you might almost as well--"
+
+"What?" exclaimed the stranger, stamping somewhat petulantly.
+
+"I don't like to mention it; but my poor roof is at your service, and I
+would go with you to ------ at daybreak to-morrow."
+
+The stranger stared at the cottager, and then at the dingy walls of the
+hut. He was about, very abruptly, to reject the hospitable proposal,
+when his eye rested suddenly on the form of Alice, who stood eager-eyed
+and open-mouthed, gazing on the handsome intruder. As she caught his
+eye, she blushed deeply and turned aside. The view seemed to change the
+intentions of the stranger. He hesitated a moment, then muttered between
+his teeth: and sinking his knapsack on the ground, he cast himself into
+a chair beside the fire, stretched his limbs, and cried gaily, "So be
+it, my host: shut up your house again. Bring me a cup of beer, and a
+crust of bread, and so much for supper! As for bed, this chair will do
+vastly well."
+
+"Perhaps we can manage better for you than that chair," answered the
+host. "But our best accommodation must seem bad enough to a gentleman:
+we are very poor people--hard-working, but very poor."
+
+"Never mind me," answered the stranger, busying himself in stirring the
+fire; "I am tolerably well accustomed to greater hardships than sleeping
+on a chair in an honest man's house; and though you are poor, I will
+take it for granted you are honest."
+
+The man grinned: and turning to Alice, bade her spread what their
+larder would afford. Some crusts of bread, some cold potatoes, and some
+tolerably strong beer, composed all the fare set before the traveller.
+
+Despite his previous boasts, the young man made a wry face at these
+Socratic preparations, while he drew his chair to the board. But his
+look grew more gay as he caught Alice's eye; and as she lingered by the
+table, and faltered out some hesitating words of apology, he seized
+her hand, and pressing it tenderly--"Prettiest of lasses," said he--and
+while he spoke he gazed on her with undisguised admiration--"a man who
+has travelled on foot all day, through the ugliest country within the
+three seas, is sufficiently refreshed at night by the sight of so fair a
+face."
+
+Alice hastily withdrew her hand, and went and seated herself in a corner
+of the room, when she continued to look at the stranger with her usual
+vacant gaze, but with a half-smile upon her rosy lips.
+
+Alice's father looked hard first at one, then at the other.
+
+"Eat, sir," said he, with a sort of chuckle, "and no fine words; poor
+Alice is honest, as you said just now."
+
+"To be sure," answered the traveller, employing with great zeal a set
+of strong, even, and dazzling teeth at the tough crusts; "to be sure
+she is. I did not mean to offend you; but the fact is, that I am half a
+foreigner; and abroad, you know, one may say a civil thing to a pretty
+girl without hurting her feelings, or her father's either."
+
+"Half a foreigner! why, you talk English as well as I do," said the
+host, whose intonation and words were, on the whole, a little above his
+station.
+
+The stranger smiled. "Thank you for the compliment," said he. "What I
+meant was, that I have been a great deal abroad; in fact, I have just
+returned from Germany. But I am English born."
+
+"And going home?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Far from hence?"
+
+"About thirty miles, I believe."
+
+"You are young, sir, to be alone."
+
+The traveller made no answer, but finished his uninviting repast and
+drew his chair again to the fire. He then thought he had sufficiently
+ministered to his host's curiosity to be entitled to the gratification
+of his own.
+
+"You work at the factories, I suppose?" said he.
+
+"I do, sir. Bad times."
+
+"And your pretty daughter?"
+
+"Minds the house."
+
+"Have you no other children?"
+
+"No; one mouth besides my own is as much as I can feed, and that
+scarcely. But you would like to rest now; you can have my bed, sir; I
+can sleep here."
+
+"By no means," said the stranger, quickly; "just put a few more coals on
+the fire, and leave me to make myself comfortable."
+
+The man rose, and did not press his offer, but left the room for a
+supply of fuel. Alice remained in her corner.
+
+"Sweetheart," said the traveller, looking round and satisfying himself
+that they were alone: "I should sleep well if I could get one kiss from
+those coral lips."
+
+Alice hid her face with her hands.
+
+"Do I vex you?"
+
+"Oh no, sir."
+
+At this assurance the traveller rose, and approached Alice softly. He
+drew away her hands from her face, when she said gently, "Have you much
+money about you?"
+
+"Oh, the mercenary baggage!" said the traveller to himself; and then
+replied aloud, "Why, pretty one? Do you sell your kisses so high then?"
+
+Alice frowned and tossed the hair from her brow. "If you have money,"
+she said, in a whisper, "don't say so to father. Don't sleep if you can
+help it. I'm afraid--hush--he comes!"
+
+The young man returned to his seat with an altered manner. And as his
+host entered, he for the first time surveyed him closely. The imperfect
+glimmer of the half-dying and single candle threw into strong lights and
+shades the marked, rugged, and ferocious features of the cottager; and
+the eye of the traveller, glancing from the face to the limbs and frame,
+saw that whatever of violence the mind might design, the body might well
+execute.
+
+The traveller sank into a gloomy reverie. The wind howled--the rain
+beat--through the casement shone no solitary star--all was dark and
+sombre. Should he proceed alone--might he not suffer a greater danger
+upon that wide and desert moor--might not the host follow--assault him
+in the dark? He had no weapon save a stick. But within he had at least
+a rude resource in the large kitchen poker that was beside him. At all
+events it would be better to wait for the present. He might at any time,
+when alone, withdraw the bolt from the door, and slip out unobserved.
+Such was the fruit of his meditations while his host plied the fire.
+
+"You will sleep sound to-night," said his entertainer, smiling.
+
+"Humph! Why, I am _over_-fatigued; I dare say it will be an hour or two
+before I fall asleep; but when I once am asleep, I sleep like a rock!"
+
+"Come, Alice," said her father, "let us leave the gentleman. Goodnight,
+sir."
+
+"Good night--good night," returned the traveller, yawning.
+
+The father and daughter disappeared through a door in the corner of the
+room. The guest heard them ascend the creaking stairs--all was still.
+
+"Fool that I am," said the traveller to himself, "will nothing teach
+me that I am no longer a student at Gottingen, or cure me of these
+pedestrian adventures? Had it not been for that girl's big blue eyes, I
+should be safe at ------ by this time, if, indeed, the grim father
+had not murdered me by the road. However, we'll baulk him yet: another
+half-hour, and I am on the moor: we must give him time. And in the
+meanwhile here is the poker. At the worst it is but one to one; but the
+churl is strongly built."
+
+Although the traveller thus endeavoured to cheer his courage, his heart
+beat more loudly than its wont. He kept his eyes stationed on the door
+by which the cottagers had vanished, and his hand on the massive poker.
+
+While the stranger was thus employed below, Alice, instead of turning to
+her own narrow cell, went into her father's room.
+
+The cottager was seated at the foot of his bed muttering to himself, and
+with eyes fixed on the ground.
+
+The girl stood before him, gazing on his face, and with her arms lightly
+crossed above her bosom.
+
+"It must be worth twenty guineas," said the host, abruptly to himself.
+
+"What is it to you, father, what the gentleman's watch is worth?"
+
+The man started.
+
+"You mean," continued Alice, quietly, "you mean to do some injury to
+that young man; but you shall not."
+
+The cottager's face grew black as night. "How," he began in a loud
+voice, but suddenly dropped the tone into a deep growl--"how dare you
+talk to me so?--go to bed--go to bed."
+
+"No, father."
+
+"No?"
+
+"I will not stir from this room until daybreak."
+
+"We will soon see that," said the man, with an oath.
+
+"Touch me, and I will alarm the gentleman, and tell him that--"
+
+"What?"
+
+The girl approached her father, placed her lips to his ear, and
+whispered, "That you intend to murder him."
+
+The cottager's frame trembled from head to foot; he shut his eyes,
+and gasped painfully for breath. "Alice," said he, gently, after a
+pause--"Alice, we are often nearly starving."
+
+"_I_ am--_you_ never!"
+
+"Wretch, yes, if I do drink too much one day, I pinch for it the next.
+But go to bed, I say--I mean no harm to the young man. Think you I would
+twist myself a rope?--no, no; go along, go along."
+
+Alice's face, which had before been earnest and almost intelligent, now
+relapsed into its wonted vacant stare.
+
+"To be sure, father, they would hang you if you cut his throat. Don't
+forget that;--good night;" and so saying, she walked to her own opposite
+chamber.
+
+Left alone, the host pressed his hand tightly to his forehead, and
+remained motionless for nearly half an hour.
+
+"If that cursed girl would but sleep," he muttered at last, turning
+round, "it might be done at once. And there's the pond behind, as deep
+as a well; and I might say at daybreak that the boy had bolted. He seems
+quite a stranger here--nobody'll miss him. He must have plenty of blunt
+to give half a guinea to a guide across a common! I want money, and I
+won't work--if I can help it, at least."
+
+While he thus soliloquised the air seemed to oppress him; he opened the
+window, he leant out--the rain beat upon him. He closed the window with
+an oath; took off his shoes, stole to the threshold, and, by the candle,
+which he shaded with his hand, surveyed the opposite door. It was
+closed. He then bent anxiously forward and listened.
+
+"All's quiet," thought he, "perhaps he sleeps already. I will steal
+down. If Jack Walters would but come tonight, the job would be done
+charmingly."
+
+With that he crept gently down the stairs. In a corner, at the foot
+of the staircase, lay sundry matters, a few faggots, and a cleaver. He
+caught up the last. "Aha," he muttered; "and there's the sledge-hammer
+somewhere for Walters." Leaning himself against the door, he then
+applied his eye to a chink which admitted a dim view of the room within,
+lighted fitfully by the fire.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+ "What have we here?
+  A carrion death!"
+   _Merchant of Venice_, Act ii. Sc. 7.
+
+IT was about this time that the stranger deemed it advisable to commence
+his retreat. The slight and suppressed sound of voices, which at first
+he had heard above in the conversation of the father and child, had died
+away. The stillness at once encouraged and warned him. He stole to the
+front door, softly undid the bolt, and found the door locked, and the
+key missing. He had not observed that during his repast, and ere
+his suspicions had been aroused, his host, in replacing the bar, and
+relocking the entrance, had abstracted the key. His fears were now
+confirmed. His next thought was the window--the shutter only protected
+it half-way, and was easily removed; but the aperture of the lattice,
+which only opened in part like most cottage casements, was far too small
+to admit his person. His only means of escape was in breaking the whole
+window; a matter not to be effected without noise and consequent risk.
+
+He paused in despair. He was naturally of a strong-nerved and gallant
+temperament, nor unaccustomed to those perils of life and limb which
+German students delight to brave; but his heart well-nigh failed him at
+that moment. The silence became distinct and burdensome to him, and a
+chill moisture gathered to his brow. While he stood irresolute and in
+suspense, striving to collect his thoughts, his ear, preternaturally
+sharpened by fear, caught the faint muffled sound of creeping
+footsteps--he heard the stairs creak. The sound broke the spell. The
+previous vague apprehension gave way, when the danger became actually at
+hand. His presence of mind returned at once. He went back quickly to the
+fireplace, seized the poker, and began stirring the fire, and coughing
+loud, and indicating as vigorously as possible that he was wide awake.
+
+He felt that he was watched--he felt that he was in momently peril. He
+felt that the appearance of slumber would be the signal for a mortal
+conflict. Time passed, all remained silent; nearly half an hour had
+elapsed since he had heard the steps upon the stairs. His situation
+began to prey upon his nerves, it irritated them--it became intolerable.
+It was not now fear that he experienced, it was the overwrought sense of
+mortal enmity--the consciousness that a man may feel who knows that the
+eye of a tiger is on him, and who, while in suspense he has regained
+his courage, foresees that sooner or later the spring must come; the
+suspense itself becomes an agony, and he desires to expedite the deadly
+struggle he cannot shun.
+
+Utterly incapable any longer to bear his own sensations, the traveller
+rose at last, fixed his eyes upon the fatal door, and was about to
+cry aloud to the listener to enter, when he heard a slight tap at
+the window; it was twice repeated; and at the third time a low voice
+pronounced the name of Darvil. It was clear, then, that accomplices had
+arrived; it was no longer against one man that he would have to contend.
+He drew his breath hard, and listened with throbbing ears. He heard
+steps without upon the plashing soil; they retired--all was still.
+
+He paused a few minutes, and walked deliberately and firmly to the inner
+door, at which he fancied his host stationed; with a steady hand he
+attempted to open the door; it was fastened on the opposite side. "So!"
+said he, bitterly, and grinding his teeth, "I must die like a rat in a
+cage. Well, I'll die biting."
+
+He returned to his former post, drew himself up to his full height,
+and stood grasping his homely weapon, prepared for the worst, and
+not altogether unelated with a proud consciousness of his own natural
+advantages of activity, stature, strength and daring. Minutes rolled on;
+the silence was broken by some one at the inner door; he heard the bolt
+gently withdrawn. He raised his weapon with both hands; and started to
+find the intruder was only Alice. She came in with bare feet, and pale
+as marble, her finger on her lips.
+
+She approached--she touched him.
+
+"They are in the shed behind," she whispered, "looking for the
+sledge-hammer--they mean to murder you; get you gone--quick."
+
+"How?--the door is locked."
+
+"Stay. I have taken the key from his room."
+
+She gained the door, applied the key--the door yielded. The traveller
+threw his knapsack once more over his shoulder, and made but one stride
+to the threshold. The girl stopped him. "Don't say anything about it; he
+is my father, they would hang him."
+
+"No, no. But you?--are safe, I trust?--depend on my gratitude.--I shall
+be at ------ to-morrow--the best inn--seek me if you can. Which way
+now?"
+
+"Keep to the left."
+
+The stranger was already several paces distant; through the darkness,
+and in the midst of the rain, he fled on with the speed of youth.
+The girl lingered an instant, sighed, then laughed aloud; closed and
+re-barred the door, and was creeping back, when from the inner entrance
+advanced the grim father, and another man, of broad, short, sinewy
+frame, his arms bare, and wielding a large hammer.
+
+"How?" asked the host; "Alice here, and--hell and the devil! have you
+let him go?"
+
+"I told you that you should not harm him."
+
+With a violent oath the ruffian struck his daughter to the ground,
+sprang over her body, unbarred the door, and, accompanied by his
+comrade, set off in vague pursuit of his intended victim.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ "You knew--none so well, of my daughter's flight."
+   _Merchant of Venice_, Act iii. Sc. 1.
+
+THE day dawned; it was a mild, damp, hazy morning; the sod sank deep
+beneath the foot, the roads were heavy with mire, and the rain of the
+past night lay here and there in broad shallow pools. Towards the town,
+waggons, carts, pedestrian groups were already moving; and, now and
+then, you caught the sharp horn of some early coach, wheeling its
+be-cloaked outside and be-nightcapped inside passengers along the
+northern thoroughfare.
+
+A young man bounded over a stile into the road just opposite to the
+milestone, that declared him to be one mile from ------.
+
+"Thank Heaven!" he said, almost aloud. "After spending the night
+wandering about morasses like a will-o'-the-wisp, I approach a town at
+last. Thank Heaven again, and for all its mercies this night! I breathe
+freely. I AM SAFE."
+
+He walked on somewhat rapidly; he passed a slow waggon---he passed a
+group of mechanics--he passed a drove of sheep, and now he saw walking
+leisurely before him a single figure. It was a girl, in a worn and
+humble dress, who seemed to seek her weary way with pain and languor.
+He was about also to pass her, when he heard a low cry. He turned, and
+beheld in the wayfarer his preserver of the previous night.
+
+"Heavens! is it indeed you? Can I believe my eyes?"
+
+"I was coming to seek you, sir," said the girl, faintly. "I too have
+escaped; I shall never go back to father; I have no roof to cover my
+head now."
+
+"Poor child! but how is this? Did they ill use you for releasing me?"
+
+"Father knocked me down, and beat me again when he came back; but that
+is not all," she added, in a very low tone.
+
+"What else?"
+
+The girl grew red and white by turns. She set her teeth rigidly, stopped
+short, and then walking on quicker than before, replied: "It don't
+matter; I will never go back--I'm alone now. What, what shall I do?" and
+she wrung her hands.
+
+The traveller's pity was deeply moved. "My good girl," said he,
+earnestly, "you have saved my life, and I am not ungrateful. Here" (and
+he placed some gold in her hand), "get yourself a lodging, food and
+rest; you look as if you wanted them; and see me again this evening when
+it is dark and we can talk unobserved."
+
+The girl took the money passively, and looked up in his face while he
+spoke; the look was so unsuspecting, and the whole countenance was so
+beautifully modest and virgin-like, that had any evil passion prompted
+the traveller's last words, it must have fled scared and abashed as he
+met the gaze.
+
+"My poor girl," said he, embarrassed, and after a short pause; "you are
+very young, and very, very pretty. In this town you will be exposed to
+many temptations: take care where you lodge; you have, no doubt, friends
+here?"
+
+"Friends?--what are friends?" answered Alice.
+
+"Have you no relations?--no _mother's kin_?"
+
+"None."
+
+"Do you know where to ask shelter?"
+
+"No, sir; for I can't go where father goes, lest he should find me out."
+
+"Well, then, seek some quiet inn, and meet me this evening just here,
+half a mile from the town, at seven. I will try and think of something
+for you in the meanwhile. But you seem tired, you walk with pain;
+perhaps it will fatigue you to come--I mean, you had rather perhaps rest
+another day."
+
+"Oh no, no! it will do me good to see you again, sir."
+
+The young man's eyes met hers, and hers were not withdrawn; their soft
+blue was suffused with tears--they penetrated his soul. He turned
+away hastily, and saw that they were already the subject of curious
+observation to the various passengers that overtook them. "Don't
+forget!" he whispered, and strode on with a pace that soon brought him
+to the town.
+
+He inquired for the principal hotel--entered it with an air that bespoke
+that nameless consciousness of superiority which belongs to those
+accustomed to purchase welcome wherever welcome is bought and sold--and
+before a blazing fire and no unsubstantial breakfast, forgot all the
+terrors of the past night, or rather felt rejoiced to think he had
+added a new and strange hazard to the catalogue of adventures already
+experienced by Ernest Maltravers.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+ "Con una Dama tenia
+  Un galan conversacion."*
+   MORATIN: _El Teatro Espanol_.--Num. 15.
+
+* With a dame he held a gallant conversation.
+
+MALTRAVERS was first at the appointed place. His character was in
+most respects singularly energetic, decided, and premature in its
+development; but not so in regard to women: with them he was the
+creature of the moment; and, driven to and fro by whatever impulse, or
+whatever passion, caught the caprice of a wild, roving, and all-poetical
+imagination, Maltravers was, half unconsciously, a poet--a poet of
+action, and woman was his muse.
+
+He had formed no plan of conduct towards the poor girl he was to meet.
+He meant no harm to her. If she had been less handsome, he would have
+been equally grateful; and her dress, and youth, and condition, would
+equally have compelled him to select the hour of dusk for an interview.
+
+He arrived at the spot. The winter night had already descended; but a
+sharp frost had set in: the air was clear, the stars were bright, and
+the long shadows slept, still and calm, along the broad road, and the
+whitened fields beyond.
+
+He walked briskly to and fro, without much thought of the interview, or
+its object, half chanting old verses, German and English, to himself,
+and stopping to gaze every moment at the silent stars.
+
+At length he saw Alice approach: she came up to him timidly and gently.
+His heart beat more quickly; he felt that he was young and alone
+with beauty. "Sweet girl," he said, with involuntary and mechanical
+compliment, "how well this light becomes you. How shall I thank you for
+not forgetting me?"
+
+Alice surrendered her hand to his without a struggle.
+
+"What is your name?" said he, bending his face down to hers.
+
+"Alice Darvil."
+
+"And your terrible father,--_is_ he, in truth, your father?"
+
+"Indeed he is my father and mother too!"
+
+"What made you suspect his intention to murder me? Has he ever attempted
+the like crime?"
+
+"No; but lately he has often talked of robbery. He is very poor, sir.
+And when I saw his eye, and when afterwards, while your back was turned,
+he took the key from the door, I felt that--that you were in danger."
+
+"Good girl--go on."
+
+"I told him so when we went up-stairs. I did not know what to believe,
+when he said he would not hurt you; but I stole the key of the front
+door, which he had thrown on the table, and went to my room. I listened
+at my door; I heard him go down the stairs--he stopped there for some
+time; and I watched him from above. The place where he was opened to the
+field by the back-way. After some time, I heard a voice whisper him; I
+knew the voice, and then they both went out by the back-way; so I stole
+down, and went out and listened; and I knew the other man was John
+Walters. I'm afraid of _him_, sir. And then Walters said, says he, 'I
+will get the hammer, and, sleep or wake, we'll do it.' And father
+said, 'It's in the shed.' So I saw there was no time to be lost, sir,
+and--and--but you know all the rest."
+
+"But how did you escape?"
+
+"Oh, my father, after talking to Walters, came to my room, and beat
+and--and--frightened me; and when he was gone to bed, I put on my
+clothes, and stole out; it was just light; and I walked on till I met
+you."
+
+"Poor child, in what a den of vice you have been brought up!"
+
+"Anan, sir."
+
+"She don't understand me. Have you been taught to read and write?"
+
+"Oh no!"
+
+"But I suppose you have been taught, at least, to say your
+catechism--and you pray sometimes?"
+
+"I have prayed to father not to beat me."
+
+"But to God?"
+
+"God, sir--what is that?"*
+
+* This ignorance--indeed the whole sketch of Alice--is from the life;
+nor is such ignorance, accompanied by what almost seems an instinctive
+or intuitive notion of right or wrong, very uncommon, as our police
+reports can testify. In the _Examiner_ for, I think, the year 1835,
+will be found the case of a young girl ill-treated by her father, whose
+answers to the interrogatories of the magistrate are very similar to
+those of Alice to the questions of Maltravers.
+
+Maltravers drew back, shocked and appalled. Premature philosopher as he
+was, this depth of ignorance perplexed his wisdom. He had read all the
+disputes of schoolmen, whether or not the notion of a Supreme Being is
+innate; but he had never before been brought face to face with a living
+creature who was unconscious of a God.
+
+After a pause, he said: "My poor girl, we misunderstand each other. You
+know that there is a God?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Did no one ever tell you who made the stars you now survey--the earth
+on which you tread?"
+
+"No."
+
+"And have you never thought about it yourself?"
+
+"Why should I? What has that to do with being cold and hungry?"
+
+Maltravers looked incredulous. "You see that great building, with the
+spire rising in the starlight?"
+
+"Yes, sir, sure."
+
+"What is it called?"
+
+"Why, a church."
+
+"Did you never go into it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"What do people do there?"
+
+"Father says one man talks nonsense, and the other folk listen to him."
+
+"Your father is--no matter. Good heavens! what shall I do with this
+unhappy child?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I am very unhappy," said Alice, catching at the last words;
+and the tears rolled silently down her cheeks.
+
+Maltravers never was more touched in his life. Whatever thoughts of
+gallantry might have entered his young head, had he found Alice such as
+he might reasonably have expected, he now felt that there was a kind
+of sanctity in her ignorance; and his gratitude and kindly sentiment
+towards her took almost a brotherly aspect.--"You know, at least, what
+school is?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, I have talked with girls who go to school."
+
+"Would you like to go there, too?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir, pray not!"
+
+"What should you like to do, then? Speak out, child. I owe you so much,
+that I should be too happy to make you comfortable and contented in your
+own way."
+
+"I should like to live with you, sir." Maltravers started, and half
+smiled, and coloured. But looking on her eyes, which were fixed
+earnestly on his, there was so much artlessness in their soft,
+unconscious gaze, that he saw she was wholly ignorant of the
+interpretation that might be put upon so candid a confession.
+
+I have said that Maltravers was a wild, enthusiastic, odd being--he was,
+in fact, full of strange German romance and metaphysical speculations.
+He had once shut himself up for months to study astrology--and been even
+suspected of a serious hunt after the philosopher's stone; another time
+he had narrowly escaped with life and liberty from a frantic conspiracy
+of the young republicans of his university, in which, being bolder and
+madder than most of them, he had been an active ringleader; it was,
+indeed, some such folly that had compelled him to quit Germany sooner
+than himself or his parents desired. He had nothing of the sober
+Englishman about him. Whatever was strange and eccentric had an
+irresistible charm for Ernest Maltravers. And agreeably to this
+disposition, he now revolved an idea that enchanted his mobile and
+fantastic philosophy. He himself would educate this charming girl--he
+would write fair and heavenly characters upon this blank page--he would
+act the Saint Preux to this Julie of Nature. Alas, he did not think of
+the result which the parallel should have suggested. At that age, Ernest
+Maltravers never damped the ardour of an experiment by the anticipation
+of consequences.
+
+"So," he said, after a short reverie, "so you would like to live with
+me? But, Alice, we must not fall in love with each other."
+
+"I don't understand, sir."
+
+"Never mind," said Maltravers, a little disconcerted.
+
+"I always wished to go into service."
+
+"Ha!"
+
+"And you would be a kind master."
+
+Maltravers was half disenchanted.
+
+"No very flattering preference," thought he: "so much the safer for us.
+Well, Alice, it shall be as you wish. Are you comfortable where you are,
+in your new lodgings?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why, they do not insult you?"
+
+"No; but they make a noise, and I like to be quiet to think of you."
+
+The young philosopher was reconciled again to his scheme.
+
+"Well, Alice--go back--I will take a cottage to-morrow, and you shall be
+my servant, and I will teach you to read and write and say your prayers,
+and know that you have a Father above who loves you better than he
+below. Meet me again at the same hour to-morrow. Why do you cry, Alice?
+why do you cry?"
+
+"Because--because," sobbed the girl, "I am so happy, and I shall live
+with you and see you."
+
+"Go, child--go, child," said Maltravers, hastily; and he walked away
+with a quicker pulse than became his new character of master and
+preceptor.
+
+He looked back, and saw the girl gazing at him; he waved his hand, and
+she moved on and followed him slowly back to the town.
+
+Maltravers, though not an elder son, was the heir of affluent fortunes;
+he enjoyed a munificent allowance that sufficed for the whims of a youth
+who had learned in Germany none of the extravagant notions common to
+young Englishmen of similar birth and prospects. He was a spoiled child,
+with no law but his own fancy,--his return home was not expected,--there
+was nothing to prevent the indulgence of his new caprice. The next day
+he hired a cottage in the neighbourhood, which was one of those pretty
+thatched edifices, with verandas and monthly roses, a conservatory and a
+lawn, which justify the English proverb about a cottage and love. It
+had been built by a mercantile bachelor for some Fair Rosamond, and did
+credit to his taste. An old woman, let with the house, was to cook and
+do the work. Alice was but a nominal servant. Neither the old woman nor
+the landlord comprehended the Platonic intentions of the young stranger.
+But he paid his rent in advance, and they were not particular. He,
+however, thought it prudent to conceal his name. It was one sure to be
+known in a town not very distant from the residence of his father, a
+wealthy and long-descended country gentleman. He adopted, therefore, the
+common name of Butler; which, indeed, belonged to one of his maternal
+connections, and by that name alone was he known in the neighbourhood
+and to Alice. From her he would not have sought concealment,--but
+somehow or other no occasion ever presented itself to induce him to talk
+much to her of his parentage or birth.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+ "Thought would destroy their Paradise."--GRAY.
+
+MALTRAVERS found Alice as docile a pupil as any reasonable preceptor
+might have desired. But still, reading and writing--they are very
+uninteresting elements! Had the groundwork been laid, it might have been
+delightful to raise the fairy palace of knowledge; but the digging the
+foundations and the constructing the cellars is weary labour. Perhaps he
+felt it so; for in a few days Alice was handed over to the very oldest
+and ugliest writing-master that the neighbouring town could afford.
+The poor girl at first wept much at the exchange; but the grave
+remonstrances and solemn exhortations of Maltravers reconciled her
+at last, and she promised to work hard and pay every attention to her
+lessons. I am not sure, however, that it was the tedium of the work that
+deterred the idealist--perhaps he felt its danger--and at the bottom of
+his sparkling dreams and brilliant follies lay a sound, generous, and
+noble heart. He was fond of pleasure, and had been already the darling
+of the sentimental German ladies. But he was too young and too vivid,
+and too romantic, to be what is called a sensualist. He could not look
+upon a fair face, and a guileless smile, and all the ineffable symmetry
+of a woman's shape, with the eye of a man buying cattle for base uses.
+He very easily fell in love, or fancied he did, it is true,--but then he
+could not separate desire from fancy, or calculate the game of passion
+without bringing the heart or the imagination into the matter. And
+though Alice was very pretty and very engaging, he was not yet in love
+with her, and he had no intention of becoming so.
+
+He felt the evening somewhat long, when for the first time Alice
+discontinued her usual lesson; but Maltravers had abundant resources in
+himself. He placed Shakespeare and Schiller on his table, and lighted
+his German meerschaum--he read till he became inspired, and then he
+wrote--and when he had composed a few stanzas he was not contented till
+he had set them to music, and tried their melody with his voice. For
+he had all the passion of a German for song, and music--that wild
+Maltravers!--and his voice was sweet, his taste consummate, his
+science profound. As the sun puts out a star, so the full blaze of his
+imagination, fairly kindled, extinguished for the time his fairy fancy
+for his beautiful pupil.
+
+It was late that night when Maltravers went to bed--and as he passed
+through the narrow corridor that led to his chamber he heard a light
+step flying before him, and caught the glimpse of a female figure
+escaping through a distant door. "The silly child," thought he, at once
+divining the cause; "she has been listening to my singing. I shall scold
+her." But he forgot that resolution.
+
+The next day, and the next, and many days passed, and Maltravers saw but
+little of the pupil for whose sake he had shut himself up in a country
+cottage, in the depth of winter. Still he did not repent his purpose,
+nor was he in the least tired of his seclusion--he would not inspect
+Alice's progress, for he was certain he should be dissatisfied with its
+slowness--and people, however handsome, cannot learn to read and write
+in a day. But he amused himself, notwithstanding. He was glad of an
+opportunity to be alone with his own thoughts, for he was at one of
+those periodical epochs of life when we like to pause and breathe a
+while, in brief respite from that methodical race in which we run to the
+grave. He wished to re-collect the stores of his past experience, and
+repose on his own mind, before he started afresh upon the active world.
+The weather was cold and inclement; but Ernest Maltravers was a hardy
+lover of nature, and neither snow nor frost could detain him from
+his daily rambles. So, about noon, he regularly threw aside books
+and papers, took his hat and staff, and went whistling or humming his
+favourite airs through the dreary streets, or along the bleak waters, or
+amidst the leafless woods, just as the humour seized him; for he was not
+an Edwin or Harold, who reserved speculation only for lonely brooks and
+pastoral hills. Maltravers delighted to contemplate nature in men as
+well as in sheep or trees. The humblest alley in a crowded town had
+something poetical for him; he was ever ready to mix in a crowd, if it
+were only gathered round a barrel-organ or a dog-fight, and listen to
+all that was said and notice all that was done. And this I take to be
+the true poetical temperament essential to every artist who aspires to
+be something more than a scene-painter. But, above all things, he was
+most interested in any display of human passions or affections; he
+loved to see the true colours of the heart, where they are most
+transparent--in the uneducated and poor--for he was something of an
+optimist, and had a hearty faith in the loveliness of our nature.
+Perhaps, indeed, he owed much of the insight into and mastery over
+character that he was afterwards considered to display, to his disbelief
+that there is any wickedness so dark as not to be susceptible of
+the light in some place or another. But Maltravers had his fits of
+unsociability, and then nothing but the most solitary scenes delighted
+him. Winter or summer, barren waste or prodigal verdure, all had beauty
+in his eyes; for their beauty lay in his own soul, through which he
+beheld them. From these walks he would return home at dusk, take his
+simple meal, rhyme or read away the long evenings with such alternation
+as music or the dreamy thoughts of a young man with gay life before him
+could afford. Happy Maltravers!--youth and genius have luxuries all
+the Rothschilds cannot purchase! And yet, Maltravers, you are
+ambitious!--life moves too slowly for you!--you would push on the
+wheels of the clock!--Fool--brilliant fool!--you are eighteen, and a
+poet!--What more can you desire?--Bid Time stop for ever!
+
+One morning Ernest rose earlier than his wont, and sauntered carelessly
+through the conservatory which adjoined his sitting-room; observing the
+plants with placid curiosity (for besides being a little of a botanist,
+he had odd visionary notions about the life of plants, and he saw in
+them a hundred mysteries which the herbalists do not teach us), when
+he heard a low and very musical voice singing at a little distance. He
+listened, and recognised, with surprise, words of his own, which he had
+lately set to music, and was sufficiently pleased with to sing nightly.
+
+When the song ended, Maltravers stole softly through the conservatory,
+and as he opened the door which led into the garden, he saw at the open
+window of a little room which was apportioned to Alice, and jutted out
+from the building in the fanciful irregularity common to ornamental
+cottages, the form of his discarded pupil. She did not observe him, and
+it was not till he twice called her by name, that she started from her
+thoughtful and melancholy posture.
+
+"Alice," said he, gently, "put on your bonnet, and walk with me in the
+garden: you look pale, child; the fresh air will do you good."
+
+Alice coloured and smiled, and in a few moments was by his side.
+Maltravers, meanwhile, had gone in and lighted his meerschaum, for it
+was his great inspirer whenever his thoughts were perplexed, or he felt
+his usual fluency likely to fail him, and such was the case now. With
+this faithful ally he awaited Alice in the little walk that circled the
+lawn, amidst shrubs and evergreens.
+
+"Alice," said he after a pause; but he stopped short.
+
+Alice looked up at him with grave respect.
+
+"Tush!" said Maltravers; "perhaps the smoke is unpleasant to you. It is
+a bad habit of mine."
+
+"No, sir," answered Alice; and she seemed disappointed. Maltravers
+paused, and picked up a snowdrop.
+
+"It is pretty," he said; "do you love flowers?"
+
+"Oh, dearly," answered Alice, with some enthusiasm; "I never saw many
+till I came here."
+
+"Now then I can go on," thought Maltravers; why, I cannot say, for I do
+not see the _sequitur_; but on he went _in medias res_. "Alice, you sing
+charmingly."
+
+"Ah! sir, you--you--" she stopped abruptly, and trembled visibly.
+
+"Yes, I overheard you, Alice."
+
+"And you are angry?"
+
+"I!--Heaven forbid! It is a _talent_--but you don't know what that is;
+I mean it is an excellent thing to have an ear; and a voice, and a heart
+for music; and you have all three."
+
+He paused, for he felt his hand touched; Alice suddenly clasped and
+kissed it. Maltravers thrilled through his whole frame; but there was
+something in the girl's look that showed she was wholly unaware that she
+had committed an unmaidenly or forward action.
+
+"I was so afraid you would be angry," she said, wiping her eyes as she
+dropped his hand; "and now I suppose you know all."
+
+"All!"
+
+"Yes; how I listened to you every evening, and lay awake the whole night
+with the music ringing in my ears, till I tried to go over it myself;
+and so at last I ventured to sing aloud. I like that much better than
+learning to read."
+
+All this was delightful to Maltravers: the girl had touched upon one of
+his weak points; however, he remained silent. Alice continued:
+
+"And now, sir, I hope you will let me come and sit outside the door
+every evening and hear you; I will make no noise--I will be so quiet."
+
+"What, in that cold corridor, these bitter nights?"
+
+"I am used to cold, sir. Father would not let me have a fire when he was
+not at home."
+
+"No, Alice, but you shall come into the room while I play, and I will
+give you a lesson or two. I am glad you have so good an ear; it may be a
+means of your earning your own honest livelihood when you leave me."
+
+"When I--but I never intend to leave you, sir!" said Alice, beginning
+fearfully and ending calmly.
+
+Maltravers had recourse to the meerschaum.
+
+Luckily, perhaps, at this time, they were joined by Mr. Simcox, the old
+writing-master. Alice went in to prepare her books; but Maltravers laid
+his hand upon the preceptor's shoulder.
+
+"You have a quick pupil, I hope, sir?" said he.
+
+"Oh, very, very, Mr. Butler. She comes on famously. She practises a
+great deal when I am away, and I do my best."
+
+"And," asked Maltravers, in a grave tone, "have you succeeded in
+instilling into the poor child's mind some of those more sacred notions
+of which I spoke to you at our first meeting?"
+
+"Why, sir, she was indeed quite a heathen--quite a Mahometan, I may say;
+but she is a little better now."
+
+"What have you taught her?"
+
+"That God made her."
+
+"That is a great step."
+
+"And that He loves good girls, and will watch over them."
+
+"Bravo! You beat Plato."
+
+"No, sir, I never beat any one, except little Jack Turner; but he is a
+dunce."
+
+"Bah! What else do you teach her?"
+
+"That the devil runs away with bad girls, and--"
+
+"Stop there, Mr. Simcox. Never mind the devil yet a while. Let her first
+learn to do good, that God may love her; the rest will follow. I would
+rather make people religious through their best feelings than their
+worst,--through their gratitude and affections, rather than their fears
+and calculations of risk and punishment."
+
+Mr. Simcox stared.
+
+"Does she say her prayers?"
+
+"I have taught her a short one."
+
+"Did she learn it readily?"
+
+"Lord love her, yes! When I told her she ought to pray to God to bless
+her benefactor, she would not rest till I had repeated a prayer out of
+our Sunday School book, and she got it by heart at once."
+
+"Enough, Mr. Simcox. I will not detain you longer."
+
+Forgetful of his untasted breakfast, Maltravers continued his meerschaum
+and his reflections: he did not cease, till he had convinced himself
+that he was but doing his duty to Alice, by teaching her to cultivate
+the charming talent she evidently possessed, and through which she might
+secure her own independence. He fancied that he should thus relieve
+himself of a charge and responsibility which often perplexed him. Alice
+would leave him, enabled to walk the world in an honest professional
+path. It was an excellent idea. "But there is danger," whispered
+Conscience. "Ay," answered Philosophy and Pride, those wise dupes that
+are always so solemn and always so taken in; "but what is virtue without
+trial?"
+
+And now every evening, when the windows were closed, and the hearth
+burnt clear, while the winds stormed, and the rain beat without, a lithe
+and lovely shape hovered about the student's chamber; and his wild songs
+were sung by a voice which Nature had made even sweeter than his own.
+
+Alice's talent for music was indeed surprising; enthusiastic and quick
+as he himself was in all he undertook, Maltravers was amazed at her
+rapid progress. He soon taught her to play by ear; and Maltravers could
+not but notice that her hand, always delicate in shape, had lost the
+rude colour and roughness of labour. He thought of that pretty hand more
+often than he ought to have done, and guided it over the keys when it
+could have found its way very well without him.
+
+On coming to the cottage he had directed the old servant to provide
+suitable and proper clothes for Alice; but now that she was admitted "to
+sit with the gentleman," the crone had the sense, without waiting for
+new orders, to buy the "pretty young woman" garments, still indeed
+simple, but of better materials and less rustic fashion; and Alice's
+redundant tresses were now carefully arranged into orderly and glossy
+curls, and even the texture was no longer the same; and happiness and
+health bloomed on her downy cheeks, and smiled from the dewy lips,
+which never quite closed over the fresh white teeth, except when she was
+sad--but that seemed never, now she was not banished from Maltravers.
+
+To say nothing of the unusual grace and delicacy of Alice's form and
+features, there is nearly always something of Nature's own gentility
+in very young women (except, indeed, when they get together and fall
+a-giggling); it shames us men to see how much sooner they are polished
+into conventional shape than our rough, masculine angles. A vulgar boy
+requires Heaven knows what assiduity to make three steps--I do not say
+like a gentleman, but like a body that has a soul in it; but give the
+least advantage of society or tuition to a peasant girl, and a hundred
+to one but she will glide into refinement before the boy can make a
+bow without upsetting the table. There is sentiment in all women, and
+sentiment gives delicacy to thought, and tact to manner. But sentiment
+with men is generally acquired, an offspring of the intellectual
+quality, not, as with the other sex, of the moral.
+
+In the course of his musical and vocal lessons, Maltravers gently took
+the occasion to correct poor Alice's frequent offences against grammar
+and accent: and her memory was prodigiously quick and retentive. The
+very tones of her voice seemed altered in the ear of Maltravers; and,
+somehow or other, the time came when he was no longer sensible of the
+difference in their rank.
+
+The old woman-servant, when she had seen how it would be from the
+first, and taken a pride in her own prophecy, as she ordered Alice's new
+dresses, was a much better philosopher than Maltravers; though he was
+already up to his ears in the moonlit abyss of Plato, and had filled a
+dozen commonplace books with criticisms on Kant.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+ "Young man, I fear thy blood is rosy red,
+  Thy heart is soft."
+   D'AGUILAR'S _Fiesco_, Act iii. Sc. 1.
+
+As education does not consist in reading and writing only, so Alice,
+while still very backward in those elementary arts, forestalled some of
+their maturest results in her intercourse with Maltravers. Before the
+inoculation took effect, she caught knowledge in the natural way. For
+the refinement of a graceful mind and a happy manner is very contagious.
+And Maltravers was encouraged by her quickness in music to attempt
+such instruction in other studies as conversation could afford. It is a
+better school than parents and masters think for: there was a time when
+all information was given orally; and probably the Athenians learned
+more from hearing Aristotle than we do from reading him. It was a
+delicious revival of Academe--in the walks, or beneath the rustic
+porticoes of that little cottage--the romantic philosopher and the
+beautiful disciple! And his talk was much like that of a sage of the
+early world, with some wistful and earnest savage for a listener: of the
+stars and their courses--of beasts, and birds, and fishes, and plants,
+and flowers--the wide family of Nature--of the beneficence and power of
+God;--of the mystic and spiritual history of Man.
+
+Charmed by her attention and docility, Maltravers at length diverged
+from lore into poetry; he would repeat to her the simplest and most
+natural passages he could remember in his favourite poets; he would
+himself compose verses elaborately adapted to her understanding; she
+liked the last the best, and learned them the easiest. Never had young
+poet a more gracious inspiration, and never did this inharmonious world
+more complacently resolve itself into soft dreams, as if to humour
+the novitiate of the victims it must speedily take into its joyless
+priesthood. And Alice had now quietly and insensibly carved out her own
+avocations--the tenor of her service. The plants in the conservatory
+had passed under her care, and no one else was privileged to touch
+Maltravers's books, or arrange the sacred litter of a student's
+apartment. When he came down in the morning, or returned from his walks,
+everything was in order, yet, by a kind of magic, just as he wished it;
+the flowers he loved best bloomed, fresh-gathered, on his table; the
+very position of the large chair, just in that corner by the fireplace,
+whence, on entering the roof, its hospitable arms opened with the most
+cordial air of welcome, bespoke the presiding genius of a woman; and
+then, precisely as the clock struck eight, Alice entered, so pretty and
+smiling, and happy-looking, that it was no wonder the single hour at
+first allotted to her extended into three.
+
+Was Alice in love with Maltravers?--she certainly did not exhibit
+the symptoms in the ordinary way--she did not grow more reserved, and
+agitated, and timid--there was no worm in the bud of her damask check:
+nay, though from the first she had been tolerably bold; she was more
+free and confidential, more at her ease every day; in fact, she never
+for a moment suspected that she ought to be otherwise; she had not the
+conventional and sensitive delicacy of girls who, whatever their rank of
+life, have been taught that there is a mystery and a peril in love; she
+had a vague idea about girls going wrong, but she did not know that love
+had anything to do with it; on the contrary, according to her father,
+it had connection with money, not love; all that she felt was so natural
+and so very sinless. Could she help being so delighted to listen to
+him, and so grieved to depart? What thus she felt she expressed, no less
+simply and no less guilelessly: candour sometimes completely blinded and
+misled him. No, she could not be in love, or she could not so frankly
+own that she loved him--it was a sisterly and grateful sentiment.
+
+"The dear girl--I am rejoiced to think so," said Maltravers to himself;
+"I knew there would be no danger."
+
+Was he not in love himself?--The reader must decide.
+
+"Alice," said Maltravers, one evening after a long pause of thought and
+abstraction on his side, while she was unconsciously practising her last
+lesson on the piano--"Alice,--no, don't turn round--sit where you are,
+but listen to me. We cannot live always in this way."
+
+Alice was instantly disobedient--she did turn round, and those great
+blue eyes were fixed on his own with such anxiety and alarm, that he had
+no resource but to get up and look round for the meerschaum. But Alice,
+who divined by an instinct his lightest wish, brought it to him, while
+he was yet hunting, amidst the further corners of the room, in places
+where it was certain not to be. There it was, already filled with the
+fragrant Salonica glittering with the gilt pastile, which, not too
+healthfully, adulterates the seductive weed with odours that pacify the
+repugnant censure of the fastidious--for Maltravers was an epicurean
+even in his worst habits;--there it was, I say, in that pretty hand
+which he had to touch as he took it; and while he lit the weed he had
+again to blush and shrink beneath those great blue eyes.
+
+"Thank you, Alice," he said; "thank you. Do sit down there--out of the
+draught. I am going to open the window, the night is so lovely."
+
+He opened the casement overgrown with creepers, and the moonlight lay
+fair and breathless upon the smooth lawn. The calm and holiness of the
+night soothed and elevated his thoughts; he had cut himself off from the
+eyes of Alice, and he proceeded with a firm, though gentle voice:
+
+"My dear Alice, we cannot always live together in this way; you are now
+wise enough to understand me, so listen patiently. A young woman never
+wants a fortune so long as she has a good character; she is always poor
+and despised without one. Now a good character in this world is lost
+as much by imprudence as guilt; and if you were to live with me much
+longer, it would be imprudent, and your character would suffer so much
+that you would not be able to make your own way in the world; far, then,
+from doing you a service, I should have done you a deadly injury, which
+I could not atone for: besides, Heaven knows what may happen worse than
+imprudence; for, I am very sorry to say," added Maltravers, with great
+gravity, "that you are much too pretty and engaging to--to--in short, it
+won't do. I must go home; my friends will have a right to complain of me
+if I remain thus lost to them many weeks longer. And you, my dear Alice,
+are now sufficiently advanced to receive better instruction than I
+or Mr. Simcox can give you. I therefore propose to place you in some
+respectable family, where you will have more comfort and a higher
+station than you have here. You can finish your education, and, instead
+of being taught, you will be thus enabled to become a teacher to others.
+With your beauty, Alice" (and Maltravers sighed), "and natural talents,
+and amiable temper, you have only to act well and prudently to secure at
+last a worthy husband and a happy home. Have you heard me, Alice? Such
+is the plan I have formed for you."
+
+The young man thought as he spoke, with honest kindness and upright
+honour; it was a bitterer sacrifice than perhaps the reader thinks for.
+But Maltravers, if he had an impassioned, had not a selfish heart; and
+he felt, to use his own expression, more emphatic than eloquent, that
+"it would not do" to live any longer alone with this beautiful girl,
+like the two children whom the good Fairy kept safe from sin and the
+world in the Pavilion of Roses.
+
+But Alice comprehended neither the danger to herself nor the temptations
+that Maltravers, if he could not resist, desired to shun. She rose, pale
+and trembling--approached Maltravers and laid her hand gently on his
+arm.
+
+"I will go away, when and where you wish--the sooner the
+better--to-morrow--yes, to-morrow; you are ashamed of poor Alice; and
+it has been very silly in me to be so happy." (She struggled with her
+emotion for a moment, and went on.) "You know Heaven can hear me, even
+when I am away from you, and when I know more I can pray better; and
+Heaven will bless you, sir, and make you happy, for I never can pray for
+anything else."
+
+With these words she turned away, and walked proudly towards the door.
+But when she reached the threshold, she stopped and looked round, as
+if to take a last farewell. All the associations and memories of that
+beloved spot rushed upon her--she gasped for breath,--tottered,--and
+fell to the ground insensible.
+
+Maltravers was already by her side; he lifted her light weight in his
+arms; he uttered wild and impassioned exclamations--"Alice, beloved
+Alice--forgive me; we will never part!" He chafed her hands in his own,
+while her head lay on his bosom, and he kissed again and again those
+beautiful eyelids, till they opened slowly upon him, and the tender arms
+tightened round him involuntarily.
+
+"Alice," he whispered--"Alice, dear Alice, I love thee." Alas, it was
+true: he loved--and forgot all but that love. He was eighteen.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+ "How like a younker or a prodigal,
+  The scarfed bark puts from her native bay!"
+   _Merchant of Venice_.
+
+WE are apt to connect the voice of Conscience with the stillness of
+midnight. But I think we wrong that innocent hour. It is that terrible
+"NEXT MORNING," when reason is wide awake, upon which remorse fastens
+its fangs. Has a man gambled away his all, or shot his friend in a
+duel--has he committed a crime or incurred a laugh--it is the _next
+morning_, when the irretrievable Past rises before him like a spectre;
+then doth the churchyard of memory yield up its grisly dead--then is the
+witching hour when the foul fiend within us can least tempt perhaps, but
+most torment. At night we have one thing to hope for, one refuge to fly
+to--oblivion and sleep! But at morning, sleep is over, and we are called
+upon coldly to review, and re-act, and live again the waking bitterness
+of self-reproach. Maltravers rose a penitent and unhappy man--remorse
+was new to him, and he felt as if he had committed a treacherous and
+fraudulent as well as guilty deed. This poor girl, she was so innocent,
+so confiding, so unprotected, even by her own sense of right. He went
+down-stairs listless and dispirited. He longed yet dreaded to encounter
+Alice. He heard her step in the conservatory--paused, irresolute, and at
+length joined her. For the first time she blushed and trembled, and her
+eyes shunned his. But when he kissed her hand in silence, she whispered,
+"And am I now to leave you?" And Maltravers answered fervently, "Never!"
+and then her face grew so radiant with joy that Maltravers was comforted
+despite himself. Alice knew no remorse, though she felt agitated and
+ashamed; as she had not comprehended the danger, neither was she aware
+of the fall. In fact, she never thought of herself. Her whole soul was
+with him; she gave him back in love the spirit she had caught from him
+in knowledge.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+And they strolled together through the garden all that day, and
+Maltravers grew reconciled to himself. He had done wrong, it is true;
+but then perhaps Alice had already suffered as much as she could in the
+world's opinion, by living with him alone, though innocent, so long.
+And now she had an everlasting claim to his protection--she should never
+know shame or want. And the love that had led to the wrong should, by
+fidelity and devotion, take from it the character of sin.
+
+Natural and commonplace sophistries! _L'homme se pique!_ as old
+Montaigne said; Man is his own sharper! The conscience is the most
+elastic material in the world. To-day you cannot stretch it over a
+mole-hill, to-morrow it hides a mountain.
+
+O how happy they were now--that young pair! How the days flew like
+dreams! Time went on, winter passed away, and the early spring, with its
+flowers and sunshine, was like a mirror to their own youth. Alice never
+accompanied Maltravers in his walks abroad, partly because she feared to
+meet her father, and partly because Maltravers himself was fastidiously
+averse to all publicity. But then they had all that little world of
+three acres--lawn and fountain, shrubbery and terrace, to themselves,
+and Alice never asked if there was any other world without. She was now
+quite a scholar, as Mr. Simcox himself averred. She could read aloud
+and fluently to Maltravers, and copied out his poetry in a small,
+fluctuating hand, and he had no longer to chase throughout his
+vocabulary for short Saxon monosyllables to make the bridge of
+intercourse between their ideas. Eros and Psyche are ever united, and
+Love opens all the petals of the soul. On one subject alone, Maltravers
+was less eloquent than of yore. He had not succeeded as a moralist, and
+he thought it hypocritical to preach what he did not practise. But Alice
+was gentler and purer, and as far as she knew, sweet fool! better than
+ever--she had invented a new prayer for herself; and she prayed as
+regularly and as fervently as if she were doing nothing amiss. But the
+code of Heaven is gentler than that of earth, and does not declare that
+ignorance excuseth not the crime.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+ "Some clouds sweep on as vultures for their prey.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+  No azure more shall robe the firmament,
+  Nor spangled stars be glorious."
+   BYRON, _Heaven and Earth_.
+
+IT was a lovely evening in April, the weather was unusually mild and
+serene for the time of year, in the northern districts of our isle, and
+the bright drops of a recent shower sparkled upon the buds of the lilac
+and laburnum that clustered round the cottage of Maltravers. The little
+fountain that played in the centre of a circular basin, on whose clear
+surface the broad-leaved water-lily cast its fairy shadow, added to the
+fresh green of the lawn;
+
+ "And softe as velvet the yonge grass,"
+
+on which the rare and early flowers were closing their heavy lids. That
+twilight shower had given a racy and vigorous sweetness to the air
+which stole over many a bank of violets, and slightly stirred the golden
+ringlets of Alice as she sate by the side of her entranced and silent
+lover. They were seated on a rustic bench just without the cottage, and
+the open window behind them admitted the view of that happy room--with
+its litter of books and musical instruments--eloquent of the POETRY of
+HOME.
+
+Maltravers was silent, for his flexile and excitable fancy was conjuring
+up a thousand shapes along the transparent air, or upon those shadowy
+violet banks. He was not thinking, he was imagining. His genius reposed
+dreamily upon the calm, but exquisite sense of his happiness. Alice
+was not absolutely in his thoughts, but unconsciously she coloured them
+all--if she had left his side, the whole charm would have been broken.
+But Alice, who was not a poet or a genius, _was_ thinking, and thinking
+only of Maltravers.... His image was "the broken mirror" multiplied in a
+thousand faithful fragments over everything fair and soft in that lovely
+microcosm before her. But they were both alike in one thing--they were
+not with the Future, they were sensible of the Present--the sense of the
+actual life, the enjoyment of the breathing time was strong within them.
+Such is the privilege of the extremes of our existence--Youth and Age.
+Middle life is never with to-day, its home is in to-morrow... anxious,
+and scheming, and desiring, and wishing this plot ripened, and that hope
+fulfilled, while every wave of the forgotten Time brings it nearer and
+nearer to the end of all things. Half our life is consumed in longing to
+be nearer death.
+
+"Alice," said Maltravers, waking at last from his reverie, and drawing
+that light, childlike form nearer to him, "you enjoy this hour as much
+as I do."
+
+"Oh, much more!"
+
+"More! and why so?"
+
+"Because I am thinking of you, and perhaps you are not thinking of
+yourself."
+
+Maltravers smiled and stroked those beautiful ringlets, and kissed that
+smooth, innocent forehead, and Alice nestled herself in his breast.
+
+"How young you look by this light, Alice!" said he, tenderly looking
+down.
+
+"Would you love me less if I were old?" asked Alice.
+
+"I suppose I should never have loved you in the same way if you had been
+old when I first saw you."
+
+"Yet I am sure I should have felt the same for you if you had been--oh!
+ever so old!"
+
+"What, with wrinkled cheeks, and palsied head, and a brown wig, and no
+teeth, like Mr. Simcox?"
+
+"Oh, but you could never be like that! You would always look young--your
+heart would be always in your face. That clear smile--ah, you would look
+beautiful to the last!"
+
+"But Simcox, though not very lovely now, has been, I dare say, handsomer
+than I am, Alice; and I shall be contented to look as well when I am as
+old!"
+
+"I should never know you were old, because I can see you just as I
+please. Sometimes, when you are thoughtful, your brows meet, and you
+look so stern that I tremble; but then I think of you when you last
+smiled, and look up again, and though you are frowning still, you seem
+to smile. I am sure you are different to other eyes than to mine... and
+time must kill _me_ before, in my sight, it could alter _you_."
+
+"Sweet Alice, you talk eloquently, for you talk love."
+
+"My heart talks to you. Ah! I wish it could say all I felt. I wish it
+could make poetry like you, or that words were music--I would never
+speak to you in anything else. I was so delighted to learn music,
+because when I played I seemed to be talking to you. I am sure that
+whoever invented music did it because he loved dearly and wanted to say
+so. I said '_he_,' but I think it was a woman. Was it?"
+
+"The Greeks I told you of, and whose life was music, thought it was a
+god."
+
+"Ah, but you say the Greeks made Love a god. Were they wicked for it?"
+
+"Our own God above is Love," said Ernest, seriously, "as our own poets
+have said and sung. But it is a love of another nature--divine, not
+human. Come, we will go within, the air grows cold for you."
+
+They entered, his arm round her waist. The room smiled upon them its
+quiet welcome; and Alice, whose heart had not half vented its fulness,
+sat down to the instrument still to "talk love" in her own way.
+
+But it was Saturday evening. Now every Saturday, Maltravers received
+from the neighbouring town the provincial newspaper--it was his only
+medium of communication with the great world. But it was not for that
+communication that he always seized it with avidity, and fed on it with
+interest. The county in which his father resided bordered on the shire
+in which Ernest sojourned, and the paper included the news of that
+familiar district in its comprehensive columns. It therefore satisfied
+Ernest's conscience and soothed his filial anxieties to read from time
+to time that "Mr. Maltravers was entertaining a distinguished party of
+friends at his noble mansion of Lisle Court;" or that "Mr. Maltravers's
+foxhounds had met on such a day at something copse;" or that, "Mr.
+Maltravers, with his usual munificence, had subscribed twenty guineas
+to the new county gaol."... And as now Maltravers saw the expected paper
+laid beside the hissing urn, he seized it eagerly, tore the envelope,
+and hastened to the well-known corner appropriated to the paternal
+district. The very first words that struck his eye were these:
+
+
+   ALARMING ILLNESS OF MR. MALTRAVERS.
+
+"We regret to state that this exemplary and distinguished gentleman was
+suddenly seized on Wednesday night with a severe spasmodic affection.
+Dr. ------ was immediately sent for, who pronounced it to be gout in the
+stomach. The first medical assistance from London has been summoned.
+
+"Postscript.--We have just learned, in answer to our inquiries at Lisle
+Court, that the respected owner is considerably worse: but slight hopes
+are entertained of his recovery. Captain Maltravers, his eldest son and
+heir, is at Lisle Court. An express has been despatched in search of
+Mr. Ernest Maltravers, who, involved by his high English spirit in some
+dispute with the authorities of a despotic government, had suddenly
+disappeared from Gottingen, where his extraordinary talents had highly
+distinguished him. He is supposed to be staying at Paris."
+
+
+The paper dropped on the floor. Ernest threw himself back on the chair,
+and covered his face with his hands.
+
+Alice was beside him in a moment. He looked up, and caught her wistful
+and terrified gaze. "Oh, Alice!" he cried, bitterly, and almost pushing
+her away, "if you could but guess my remorse!" Then springing on his
+feet, he hurried from the room.
+
+Presently the whole house was in commotion. The gardener, who was always
+in the house about supper-time, flew to the town for post-horses. The
+old woman was in despair about the laundress, for her first and only
+thought was for "master's shirts." Ernest locked himself in his room.
+Alice! poor Alice!
+
+In little more than twenty minutes, the chaise was at the door: and
+Ernest, pale as death, came into the room where he had left Alice.
+
+She was seated on the floor, and the fatal paper was on her lap. She
+had been endeavouring, in vain, to learn what had so sensibly affected
+Maltravers, for, as I said before, she was unacquainted with his real
+name, and therefore the ominous paragraph did not even arrest her eye.
+
+He took the paper from her, for he wanted again and again to read it:
+some little word of hope or encouragement must have escaped him. And
+then Alice flung herself on his breast. "Do not weep," said he; "Heaven
+knows I have sorrow enough of my own! My father is dying! So kind, so
+generous, so indulgent! O God, forgive me! Compose yourself, Alice. You
+will hear from me in a day or two."
+
+He kissed her, but the kiss was cold and forced. He hurried away. She
+heard the wheels grate on the pebbles. She rushed to the window; but
+that beloved face was not visible. Maltravers had drawn the blinds, and
+thrown himself back to indulge his grief. A moment more, and even the
+vehicle that bore him away was gone. And before her were the flowers,
+and the starlit lawn, and the playful fountain, and the bench where they
+had sat in such heartfelt and serene delight. He was gone; and often,
+oh, how often, did Alice remember that his last words had been uttered
+in estranged tones--that his last embrace had been without love!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+    "Thy due from me
+  Is tears: and heavy sorrows of the blood,
+  Which nature, love, and filial tenderness
+  Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously!"
+   _Second Part of Henry IV._, Act iv. Sc. 4.
+
+IT was late at night when the chaise that bore Maltravers stopped at the
+gates of a park lodge. It seemed an age before the peasant within was
+aroused from the deep sleep of labour-loving health. "My father," he
+cried, while the gate creaked on its hinges; "my father--is he better?
+Is he alive?"
+
+"Oh, bless your heart, Master Ernest, the squire was a little better
+this evening."
+
+"Thank Heaven!--On--on!"
+
+The horses smoked and galloped along a road that wound through venerable
+and ancient groves. The moonlight slept soft upon the sward, and the
+cattle, disturbed from their sleep, rose lazily up, and gazed upon the
+unseasonable intruder.
+
+It is a wild and weird scene, one of those noble English parks at
+midnight, with its rough forest-ground broken into dell and valley, its
+never-innovated and mossy grass, overrun with fern, and its immemorial
+trees, that have looked upon the birth, and look yet upon the graves,
+of a hundred generations. Such spots are the last proud and melancholy
+trace of Norman knighthood and old romance left to the laughing
+landscapes of cultivated England. They always throw something of shadow
+and solemn gloom upon minds that feels their associations, like that
+which belongs to some ancient and holy edifice. They are the cathedral
+aisles of Nature with their darkened vistas, and columned trunks, and
+arches of mighty foliage. But in ordinary times the gloom is pleasing,
+and more delightful than all the cheerful lawns and sunny slopes of the
+modern taste. _Now_ to Maltravers it was ominous and oppressive: the
+darkness of death seemed brooding in every shadow, and its warning voice
+moaning in every breeze.
+
+The wheels stopped again. Lights flitted across the basement story; and
+one above, more dim than the rest, shone palely from the room in which
+the sick man slept. The bell rang shrilly out from amidst the dark ivy
+that clung around the porch. The heavy door swung back--Maltravers was
+on the threshold. His father lived--was better--was awake. The son was
+in the father's arms.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+    "The guardian oak
+  Mourn'd o'er the roof it shelter'd: the thick air
+  Labour'd with doleful sounds."
+   ELLIOTT of _Sheffield_.
+
+MANY days had passed, and Alice was still alone; but she had heard twice
+from Maltravers. The letters were short and hurried. One time his father
+was better, and there were hopes; another time, and it was not expected
+that he could survive the week. They were the first letters Alice had
+ever received from him. Those _first_ letters are an event in a girl's
+life--in Alice's life they were a very melancholy one. Ernest did not
+ask her to write to him; in fact, he felt, at such an hour, a repugnance
+to disclose his real name, and receive the letters of clandestine love
+in the house in which a father lay in death. He might have given the
+feigned address he had previously assumed, at some distant post-town,
+where his person was not known. But, then, to obtain such letters, he
+must quit his father's side for hours. The thing was impossible. These
+difficulties Maltravers did not explain to Alice.
+
+She thought it singular he did not wish to hear from her; but Alice
+was humble. What could she say worth troubling him with, and at such an
+hour? But how kind in him to write! how precious those letters! and
+yet they disappointed her, and cost her floods of tears: they were so
+short--so full of sorrow--there was so little love in them; and "dear,"
+or even "_dearest_ Alice," that uttered by the voice was so tender,
+looked cold upon the lifeless paper. If she but knew the exact spot
+where he was it would be some comfort; but she only knew that he was
+away, and in grief; and though he was little more than thirty miles
+distant, she felt as if immeasurable space divided them. However, she
+consoled herself as she could; and strove to shorten the long miserable
+day by playing over all the airs he liked, and reading all the passages
+he had commended. She should be so improved when he returned; and how
+lovely the garden would look; for every day its trees and bouquets
+caught a new smile from the deepening spring. Oh, they would be so happy
+once more! Alice _now_ learned the life that lies in the future; and her
+young heart had not, as yet, been taught that of that future there is
+any prophet but Hope!
+
+Maltravers, on quitting the cottage, had forgotten that Alice was
+without money, and now that he found his stay would be indefinitely
+prolonged, he sent a remittance. Several bills were unpaid--some portion
+of the rent was due; and Alice, as she was desired, intrusted the old
+servant with a bank note, with which she was to discharge these petty
+debts. One evening, as she brought Alice the surplus, the good dame
+seemed greatly discomposed. She was pale and agitated; or, as she
+expressed it, "had a terrible fit of the shakes."
+
+"What is the matter, Mrs. Jones? you have no news of him--of--of my--of
+your master?"
+
+"Dear heart, miss--no," answered Mrs. Jones; "how should I? But I'm sure
+I don't wish to frighten you; there has been two sich robberies in the
+neighbourhood!"
+
+"Oh, thank Heaven that's all!" exclaimed Alice.
+
+"Oh, don't go for to thank Heaven for that, miss; it's a shocking thing
+for two lone females like us, and them 'ere windows all open to
+the ground! You sees, as I was taking the note to be changed at Mr.
+Harris's, the great grocer's shop, where all the poor folk was a-buying
+agin to-morrow" (for it was Saturday night, the second Saturday after
+Ernest's departure; from that Hegira Alice dated all her chronology),
+"and everybody was a-talking about the robberies last night. La, miss,
+they bound old Betty--you know Betty--a most respectable 'oman, who
+has known sorrows, and drinks tea with me once a week. Well, miss, they
+(only think!) bound Betty to the bedpost, with nothing on her but her
+shift--poor old soul! And as Mr. Harris gave me the change (please to
+see, miss, it's all right), and I asked for half gould, miss, it's more
+convenient, sich an ill-looking fellow was by me, a-buying o' baccy, and
+he did so stare at the money, that I vows I thought he'd have rin away
+with it from the counter; so I grabbled it up and went away. But, would
+you believe, miss, just as I got into the lane, afore you turns through
+the gate, I chanced to look back, and there, sure enough, was that ugly
+fellow close behind, a-running like mad. Oh, I set up such a screetch;
+and young Dobbins was a-taking his cow out of the field, and he perked
+up over the hedge when he heard me; and the cow, too, with her horns,
+Lord bless her! So the fellow stopped, and I bustled through the gate,
+and got home. But la, miss, if we are all robbed and murdered?"
+
+Alice had not heard much of this harangue; but what she did hear very
+slightly affected her strong, peasant-born nerves; not half so much
+indeed, as the noise Mrs. Jones made in double-locking all the doors,
+and barring, as well as a peg and a rusty inch of chain would allow, all
+the windows--which operation occupied at least an hour and a half.
+
+All at last was still. Mrs. Jones had gone to bed--in the arms of
+sleep she had forgotten her terrors--and Alice had crept up-stairs, and
+undressed, and said her prayers, and wept a little; and, with the tears
+yet moist upon her dark eyelashes, had glided into dreams of Ernest.
+Midnight was passed--the stroke of one sounded unheard from the clock
+at the foot of the stars. The moon was gone--a slow, drizzling rain was
+falling upon the flowers, and cloud and darkness gathered fast and thick
+around the sky.
+
+About this time, a low, regular, grating sound commenced at the thin
+shutters of the sitting-room below, preceded by a very faint noise,
+like the tinkling of small fragments of glass on the gravel without. At
+length it ceased, and the cautious and partial gleam of a lanthorn fell
+along the floor; another moment, and two men stood in the room.
+
+"Hush, Jack!" whispered one: "hang out the glim, and let's look about
+us."
+
+The dark-lanthorn, now fairly unmuffled, presented to the gaze of the
+robbers nothing that could gratify their cupidity.
+
+Books and music, chairs, tables, carpet, and fire-irons, though valuable
+enough in a house-agent's inventory, are worthless to the eyes of a
+housebreaker. They muttered a mutual curse.
+
+"Jack," said the former speaker, "we must make a dash at the spoons
+and forks, and then hey for the money. The old girl had thirty shiners,
+besides flimsies."
+
+The accomplice nodded consent; the lanthorn was again partially shaded,
+and with noiseless and stealthy steps the men quitted the apartment.
+Several minutes elapsed, when Alice was awakened from her slumber by a
+loud scream she started, all was again silent: she must have dreamt it:
+her little heart beat violently at first, but gradually regained its
+tenor. She rose, however, and the kindness of her nature being more
+susceptible than her fear, she imagined Mrs. Jones might be ill--she
+would go to her. With this idea she began partially dressing herself,
+when she distinctly heard heavy footsteps and a strange voice in the
+room beyond. She was now thoroughly alarmed--her first impulse was to
+escape from the house--her next to bolt the door, and call aloud for
+assistance. But who would hear her cries? Between the two purposes, she
+halted irresolute... and remained, pale and trembling, seated at the
+foot of the bed, when a broad light streamed through the chinks of the
+door--an instant more, and a rude hand seized her.
+
+"Come, mem, don't be fritted, we won't harm you; but where's the
+gold-dust--where's the money?--the old girl says you've got it. Fork it
+over."
+
+"O mercy, mercy! John Walters, is that you?"
+
+"Damnation!" muttered the man, staggering back; "so you knows me then;
+but you sha'n't peach; you sha'n't scrag me, b---t you."
+
+While he spoke, he again seized Alice, held her forcibly down with one
+hand, while with the other he deliberately drew from a side pouch a long
+case-knife. In that moment of deadly peril, the second ruffian, who had
+been hitherto delayed in securing the servant, rushed forward. He had
+heard the exclamation of Alice, he heard the threat of his comrade; he
+darted to the bedside, cast a hurried gaze upon Alice, and hurled the
+intended murderer to the other side of the room.
+
+"What, man, art mad?" he growled between his teeth. "Don't you know her?
+It is Alice;--it is my daughter."
+
+Alice had sprung up when released from the murderer's knife, and now,
+with eyes strained and starting with horror, gazed upon the dark and
+evil face of her deliverer.
+
+"O God, it is--it is my father!" she muttered, and fell senseless.
+
+"Daughter or no daughter," said John Walters, "I shall not put my scrag
+in her power; recollect how she fritted us before, when she run away."
+
+Darvil stood thoughtful and perplexed; and his associate approached
+doggedly with a look of such settled ferocity as it was impossible for
+even Darvil to contemplate without a shudder.
+
+"You say right," muttered the father, after a pause, but fixing his
+strong gripe on his comrade's shoulder,--"the girl must not be left
+here--the cart has a covering. We are leaving the country; I have
+a right to my daughter--she shall go with us. There, man, grab the
+money--it's on the table;.... you've got the spoons. Now then--" as
+Darvil spoke he seized his daughter in his arms; threw over her a shawl
+and a cloak that lay at hand, and was already on the threshold.
+
+"I don't half like it," said Walters, grumblingly--"it been't safe."
+
+"At least it is as safe as murder!" answered Darvil, turning round, with
+a ghastly grin. "Make haste."
+
+When Alice recovered her senses, the dawn was breaking slowly along
+desolate and sullen hills. She was lying upon rough straw--the cart was
+jolting over the ruts of a precipitous, lonely road,--and by her side
+scowled the face of that dreadful father.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+ "Yet he beholds her with the eyes of mind--
+  He sees the form which he no more shall meet;
+  She like a passionate thought is come and gone,
+  While at his feet the bright rill bubbles on."
+   ELLIOTT _of Sheffield_.
+
+IT was a little more than three weeks after that fearful night, when the
+chaise of Maltravers stopped at the cottage door--the windows were shut
+up; no one answered the repeated summons of the post-boy. Maltravers
+himself, alarmed and amazed, descended from the vehicle: he was in
+deep mourning. He went impatiently to the back entrance; that also was
+locked; round to the French windows of the drawing-room, always hitherto
+half-opened, even in the frosty days of winter,--they were now closed
+like the rest. He shouted in terror, "Alice, Alice!"--no sweet voice
+answered in breathless joy, no fairy step bounded forward in welcome.
+At this moment, however, appeared the form of the gardener coming across
+the lawn. The tale was soon told; the house had been robbed--the old
+woman at morning found gagged and fastened to her bed-post--Alice flown.
+A magistrate had been applied to,--suspicion fell upon the fugitive.
+None knew anything of her origin or name, not even the old woman.
+Maltravers had naturally and sedulously ordained Alice to preserve that
+secret, and she was too much in fear of being detected and claimed by
+her father not to obey the injunction with scrupulous caution. But it
+was known, at least, that she had entered the house a poor peasant girl;
+and what more common than for ladies of a certain description to run
+away from their lover, and take some of his property by mistake? And
+a poor girl like Alice, what else could be expected? The magistrate
+smiled, and the constables laughed. After all, it was a good joke at
+the young gentleman's expense! Perhaps, as they had no orders from
+Maltravers, and they did not know where to find him, and thought he
+would be little inclined to prosecute, the search was not very rigorous.
+But two houses had been robbed the night before. Their owners were more
+on the alert. Suspicion fell upon a man of infamous character, John
+Walters; he had disappeared from the place. He had been last seen with
+an idle, drunken fellow, who was said to have known better days, and who
+at one time had been a skilful and well-paid mechanic, till his habits
+of theft and drunkenness threw him out of employ; and he had been since
+accused of connection with a gang of coiners--tried--and escaped from
+want of sufficient evidence against him. That man was Luke Darvil. His
+cottage was searched; but he also had fled. The trace of cart-wheels by
+the gate of Maltravers gave a faint clue to pursuit; and after an
+active search of some days, persons answering to the description of the
+suspected burglars--with a young female in their company--were tracked
+to a small inn, notorious as a resort for smugglers, by the sea-coast.
+But there every vestige of their supposed whereabouts disappeared.
+
+And all this was told to the stunned Maltravers; the garrulity of the
+gardener precluded the necessity of his own inquiries, and the name
+of Darvil explained to him all that was dark to others. And Alice
+was suspected of the basest and the blackest guilt! Obscure, beloved,
+protected as she had been, she could not escape the calumny from which
+he had hoped everlastingly to shield her. But did _he_ share that
+hateful thought? Maltravers was too generous and too enlightened.
+
+"Dog!" said he, grinding his teeth, and clenching his hands, at the
+startled menial, "dare to utter a syllable of suspicion against her, and
+I will trample the breath out of your body!"
+
+The old woman, who had vowed that for the 'varsal world she would not
+stay in the house after such a "night of shakes," had now learned the
+news of her master's return, and came hobbling up to him. She arrived in
+time to hear his menace to her fellow-servant.
+
+"Ah, that's right; give it him, your honour; bless your good
+heart!--that's what I says. Miss rob the house! says I--Miss run away.
+Oh no--depend on it they have murdered her and buried the body."
+
+Maltravers gasped for breath, but without uttering another word he
+re-entered the chaise and drove to the house of the magistrate. He found
+that functionary a worthy and intelligent man of the world. To him
+he confided the secret of Alice's birth and his own. The magistrate
+concurred with him in believing that Alice had been discovered
+and removed by her father. New search was made--gold was lavished.
+Maltravers himself headed the search in person. But all came to the
+same result as before, save that by the descriptions he heard of the
+person--the dress--the tears, of the young female who had accompanied
+the men supposed to be Darvil and Walters, he was satisfied that Alice
+yet lived; he hoped she might yet escape and return. In that hope he
+lingered for weeks--for months, in the neighbourhood; but time passed
+and no tidings.... He was forced at length to quit a neighbourhood
+at once so saddened and endeared. But he secured a friend in the
+magistrate, who promised to communicate with him if Alice returned, or
+her father was discovered. He enriched Mrs. Jones for life, in gratitude
+for her vindication of his lost and early love; he promised the amplest
+rewards for the smallest clue. And with a crushed and desponding spirit,
+he obeyed at last the repeated and anxious summons of the guardian to
+whose care, until his majority was attained, the young orphan was now
+entrusted.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+ "Sure there are poets that did never dream
+  Upon Parnassus."--DENHAM.
+
+ "Walk sober off, before a sprightlier age
+  Come tittering on, and shove you from the stage."--POPE.
+
+ "Hence to repose your trust in me was wise."
+   DRYDEN'S _Absalom and Achitophel_.
+
+MR. FREDERICK CLEVELAND, a younger son of the Earl of Byrneham, and
+therefore entitled to the style and distinction of "Honourable," was the
+guardian of Ernest Maltravers. He was now about the age of forty-three;
+a man of letters and a man of fashion, if the last half-obsolete
+expression be permitted to us, as being at least more classical and
+definite than any other which modern euphuism has invented to convey the
+same meaning. Highly educated, and with natural abilities considerably
+above mediocrity, Mr. Cleveland early in life had glowed with the
+ambition of an author.... He had written well and gracefully--but his
+success, though respectable, did not satisfy his aspirations. The
+fact is, that a new school of literature ruled the public, despite the
+critics--a school very different from that in which Mr. Cleveland formed
+his unimpassioned and polished periods. And as that old Earl, who in the
+time of Charles the First was the reigning wit of the court, in the time
+of Charles the Second was considered too dull even for a butt, so
+every age has its own literary stamp and coinage, and consigns the
+old circulation to its shelves and cabinets as neglected curiosities.
+Cleveland could not become the fashion with the public as an author,
+though the coteries cried him up and the reviewers adored him--and
+the ladies of quality and the amateur dilettanti bought and bound his
+volumes of careful poetry and cadenced prose. But Cleveland had high
+birth and a handsome competence--his manners were delightful, his
+conversation fluent--and his disposition was as amiable as his mind was
+cultured. He became, therefore, a man greatly sought after in society
+both respected and beloved. If he had not genius, he had great good
+sense; he did not vex his urbane temper and kindly heart with walking
+after a vain shadow, and disquieting himself in vain. Satisfied with an
+honourable and unenvied reputation, he gave up the dream of that higher
+fame which he clearly saw was denied to his aspirations--and maintained
+his good-humour with the world, though in his secret soul he thought
+it was very wrong in its literary caprices. Cleveland never married: he
+lived partly in town, but principally at Temple Grove, a villa not far
+from Richmond. Here, with an excellent library, beautiful grounds, and
+a circle of attached and admiring friends, which comprised all the more
+refined and intellectual members of what is termed, by emphasis, _Good
+Society_--this accomplished and elegant person passed a life perhaps
+much happier than he would have known had his young visions been
+fulfilled, and it had become his stormy fate to lead the rebellious and
+fierce Democracy of Letters.
+
+Cleveland was indeed, if not a man of high and original genius, at
+least very superior to the generality of patrician authors. In retiring,
+himself, from frequent exercise in the arena, he gave up his mind
+with renewed zest to the thoughts and masterpieces of others. From a
+well-read man, he became a deeply instructed one. Metaphysics, and some
+of the material sciences, added new treasures to information more light
+and miscellaneous, and contributed to impart weight and dignity to a
+mind that might otherwise have become somewhat effeminate and frivolous.
+His social habits, his clear sense, and benevolence of judgment, made
+him also an exquisite judge of all those indefinable nothings, or little
+things, that, formed into a total, become knowledge of the Great World.
+I say the Great World--for of the world without the circle of the great,
+Cleveland naturally knew but little. But of all that related to that
+subtle orbit in which gentlemen and ladies move in elevated and ethereal
+order, Cleveland was a profound philosopher. It was the mode with many
+of his admirers to style him the Horace Walpole of the day. But though
+in some of the more external and superficial points of character they
+were alike, Cleveland had considerably less cleverness, and infinitely
+more heart.
+
+The late Mr. Maltravers, a man not indeed of literary habits but an
+admirer of those who were--an elegant, high-bred, hospitable
+_seigneur de province_--had been one of the earliest of Cleveland's
+friends--Cleveland had been his fag at Eton--and he found Hal
+Maltravers--(Handsome Hal!) had become the darling of the clubs, when he
+made his own _debut_ in society. They were inseparable for a season or
+two--and when Mr. Maltravers married, and enamoured of country pursuits,
+proud of his old hall, and sensibly enough conceiving that he was a
+greater man in his own broad lands than in the republican aristocracy
+of London, settled peaceably at Lisle Court, Cleveland corresponded with
+him regularly, and visited him twice a year. Mrs. Maltravers died in
+giving birth to Ernest, her second son. Her husband loved her tenderly,
+and was long inconsolable for her loss. He could not bear the sight
+of the child that had cost him so dear a sacrifice. Cleveland and his
+sister, Lady Julia Danvers, were residing with him at the time of this
+melancholy event; and with judicious and delicate kindness, Lady Julia
+proposed to place the unconscious offender amongst her own children for
+some months. The proposition was accepted, and it was two years before
+the infant Ernest was restored to the paternal mansion. During the
+greater part of that time, he had gone through all the events and
+revolutions of baby life under the bachelor roof of Frederick Cleveland.
+
+The result of this was, that the latter loved the child like a father.
+Ernest's first intelligible word hailed Cleveland as "papa;" and when
+the urchin was at length deposited at Lisle Court, Cleveland talked
+all the nurses out of breath with admonitions, and cautions, and
+injunctions, and promises, and threats, which might have put many a
+careful mother to the blush. This circumstance formed a new tie between
+Cleveland and his friend. Cleveland's visits were now three times a
+year instead of twice. Nothing was done for Ernest without Cleveland's
+advice. He was not even breeched till Cleveland gave his grave consent.
+Cleveland chose his school, and took him to it,--and he spent a week of
+every vacation in Cleveland's house. The boy never got into a scrape,
+or won a prize, or wanted _a tip_, or coveted a book, but what Cleveland
+was the first to know of it. Fortunately, too, Ernest manifested by
+times tastes which the graceful author thought similar to his own. He
+early developed very remarkable talents, and a love for learning--though
+these were accompanied with a vigour of life and soul--an energy--a
+daring--which gave Cleveland some uneasiness, and which did not appear
+to him at all congenial with the moody shyness of an embryo genius, or
+the regular placidity of a precocious scholar. Meanwhile the relation
+between father and son was rather a singular one. Mr. Maltravers had
+overcome his first, not unnatural, repugnance to the innocent cause of
+his irremediable loss. He was now fond and proud of his boy--as he was
+of all things that belonged to him. He spoiled and petted him even more
+than Cleveland did. But he interfered very little with his education or
+pursuits. His eldest son, Cuthbert, did not engross all his heart, but
+occupied all his care. With Cuthbert he connected the heritage of his
+ancient name, and the succession of his ancestral estates. Cuthbert
+was not a genius, nor intended to be one; he was to be an accomplished
+gentleman, and a great proprietor. The father understood Cuthbert, and
+could see clearly both his character and career. He had no scruple in
+managing his education, and forming his growing mind. But Ernest puzzled
+him. Mr. Maltravers was even a little embarrassed in the boy's society;
+he never quite overcame that feeling of strangeness towards him which he
+had experienced when he first received him back from Cleveland, and took
+Cleveland's directions about his health and so forth. It always seemed
+to him as if his friend shared his right to the child; and he thought
+it a sort of presumption to scold Ernest, though he very often swore
+at Cuthbert. As the younger son grew up, it certainly was evident that
+Cleveland did understand him better than his own father did; and so, as
+I have before said, on Cleveland the father was not displeased passively
+to shift the responsibility of the rearing.
+
+Perhaps Mr. Maltravers might not have been so indifferent, had Ernest's
+prospects been those of a younger son in general. If a profession had
+been necessary for him, Mr. Maltravers would have been naturally anxious
+to see him duly fitted for it. But from a maternal relation Ernest
+inherited an estate of about four thousand pounds a year; and he was
+thus made independent of his father. This loosened another tie between
+them; and so by degrees Mr. Maltravers learned to consider Ernest less
+as his own son, to be advised or rebuked, praised or controlled, than
+as a very affectionate, promising, engaging boy, who, somehow or other,
+without any trouble on his part, was very likely to do great credit to
+his family, and indulge his eccentricities upon four thousand pounds a
+year. The first time that Mr. Maltravers was seriously perplexed about
+him was when the boy, at the age of sixteen, having taught himself
+German, and intoxicated his wild fancies with _Werter_ and _The
+Robbers_, announced his desire, which sounded very like a demand, of
+going to Gottingen instead of to Oxford. Never were Mr. Maltravers's
+notions of a proper and gentlemanlike finish to education more
+completely and rudely assaulted. He stammered out a negative, and
+hurried to his study to write a long letter to Cleveland, who, himself
+an Oxford prize-man, would, he was persuaded, see the matter in the same
+light. Cleveland answered the letter in person: listened in silence to
+all the father had to say, and then strolled through the park with
+the young man. The result of the latter conference was, that Cleveland
+declared in favour of Ernest.
+
+"But, my dear Frederick," said the astonished father, "I thought the boy
+was to carry off all the prizes at Oxford?"
+
+"I carried off some, Maltravers; but I don't see what good they did me."
+
+"Oh, Cleveland!"
+
+"I am serious."
+
+"But it is such a very odd fancy."
+
+"Your son is a very odd young man."
+
+"I fear he is so--I fear he is, poor fellow! But what will he learn at
+Gottingen?"
+
+"Languages and Independence," said Cleveland.
+
+"And the classics--the classics--you are such an excellent Grecian!"
+
+"There are great Grecians in Germany," answered Cleveland; "and Ernest
+cannot well unlearn what he knows already. My dear Maltravers, the boy
+is not like most clever young men. He must either go through action, and
+adventure, and excitement in his own way, or he will be an idle dreamer,
+or an impracticable enthusiast all his life. Let him alone.--So Cuthbert
+is gone into the Guards?"
+
+"But he went first to Oxford."
+
+"Humph! What a fine young man he is!"
+
+"Not so tall as Ernest, but--"
+
+"A handsome face," said Cleveland. "He is a son to be proud of in one
+way, as I hope Ernest will be in another. Will you show me your new
+hunter?"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+It was to the house of this gentleman, so judiciously made his guardian,
+that the student of Gottingen now took his melancholy way.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+ "But if a little exercise you choose,
+   Some zest for ease, 'tis not forbidden here;
+  Amid the groves you may indulge the Muse,
+   Or tend the blooms and deck the vernal year."
+     _Castle of Indolence_.
+
+THE house of Mr. Cleveland was an Italian villa adapted to an English
+climate. Through an Ionic arch you entered a domain of some eighty or a
+hundred acres in extent, but so well planted and so artfully disposed,
+that you could not have supposed the unseen boundaries inclosed no
+ampler a space. The road wound through the greenest sward, in which
+trees of venerable growth were relieved by a profusion of shrubs, and
+flowers gathered into baskets intertwined with creepers, or blooming
+from classic vases, placed with a tasteful care in such spots as
+required the _filling up_, and harmonised well with the object chosen.
+Not an old ivy-grown pollard, not a modest and bending willow, but
+was brought out, as it were, into a peculiar feature by the art of the
+owner. Without being overloaded, or too minutely elaborate (the common
+fault of the rich man's villa), the whole place seemed one diversified
+and cultivated garden; even the air almost took a different odour from
+different vegetation, with each winding of the road; and the colours of
+the flowers and foliage varied with every view.
+
+At length, when, on a lawn sloping towards a glassy lake overhung by
+limes and chestnuts, and backed by a hanging wood, the house itself came
+in sight, the whole prospect seemed suddenly to receive its finishing
+and crowning feature. The house was long and low. A deep peristyle that
+supported the roof extended the whole length, and being raised above
+the basement had the appearance of a covered terrace; broad flights
+of steps, with massive balustrades, supporting vases of aloes and
+orange-trees, led to the lawn; and under the peristyle were ranged
+statues, Roman antiquities and rare exotics. On this side the lake
+another terrace, very broad, and adorned, at long intervals, with urns
+and sculpture, contrasted the shadowy and sloping bank beyond; and
+commanded, through unexpected openings in the trees, extensive views
+of the distant landscape, with the stately Thames winding through the
+midst. The interior of the house corresponded with the taste without.
+All the principal rooms, even those appropriated to sleep, were on the
+same floor. A small but lofty and octagonal hall conducted to a suite of
+four rooms. At one extremity was a moderately-sized dining-room with
+a ceiling copied from the rich and gay colours of Guido's "Hours;" and
+landscapes painted by Cleveland himself, with no despicable skill, were
+let into the walls. A single piece of sculpture copied from the Piping
+Faun, and tinged with a flesh-like glow by purple and orange draperies
+behind it, relieved without darkening the broad and arched window which
+formed its niche. This communicated with a small picture-room, not
+indeed rich with those immortal gems for which princes are candidates;
+for Cleveland's fortune was but that of a private gentleman, though,
+managed with a discreet if liberal economy, it sufficed for all his
+elegant desires. But the pictures had an interest beyond that of art,
+and their subjects were within the reach of a collector of ordinary
+opulence. They made a series of portraits--some originals, some copies
+(and the copies were often the best) of Cleveland's favourite authors.
+And it was characteristic of the man, that Pope's worn and thoughtful
+countenance looked down from the central place of honour. Appropriately
+enough, this room led into the library, the largest room in the house,
+the only one indeed that was noticeable from its size, as well as its
+embellishments. It was nearly sixty feet in length. The bookcases were
+crowned with bronze busts, while at intervals statues, placed in open
+arches, backed with mirrors, gave the appearance of galleries, opening
+from the book-lined walls, and introduced an inconceivable air of
+classic lightness and repose into the apartment; with these arches the
+windows harmonised so well, opening on the peristyle, and bringing into
+delightful view the sculpture, the flowers, the terraces, and the lake
+without, that the actual prospects half seduced you into the belief that
+they were designs by some master-hand of the poetical gardens that yet
+crown the hills of Rome. Even the colouring of the prospects on a sunny
+day favoured the delusion, owing to the deep, rich hues of the simple
+draperies, and the stained glass of which the upper panes of the windows
+were composed. Cleveland was especially fond of sculpture; he was
+sensible, too, of the mighty impulse which that art has received in
+Europe within the last half century. He was even capable of asserting
+the doctrine, not yet sufficiently acknowledged in this country, that
+Flaxman surpassed Canova. He loved sculpture, too, not only for its own
+beauty, but for the beautifying and intellectual effect that it produces
+wherever it is admitted. It is a great mistake, he was wont to say,
+in collectors of statues, to arrange them _pele mele_ in one long
+monotonous gallery. The single relief, or statue, or bust, or simple
+urn, introduced appropriately in the smallest apartment we inhabit,
+charms us infinitely more than those gigantic museums, crowded into
+rooms never entered but for show, and without a chill, uncomfortable
+shiver. Besides, this practice of galleries, which the herd consider
+orthodox, places sculpture out of the patronage of the public. There
+are not a dozen people who can afford galleries. But very moderately
+affluent gentlemen can afford a statue or a bust. The influence, too,
+upon a man's mind and taste, created by the constant and habitual view
+of monuments of the only imperishable art which resorts to physical
+materials, is unspeakable. Looking upon the Greek marble, we become
+acquainted, almost insensibly, with the character of the Greek life and
+literature. That Aristides, that Genius of Death, that fragment of the
+unrivalled Psyche, are worth a thousand Scaligers!
+
+"Do you ever look at the Latin translation when you read Aeschylus?"
+said a schoolboy once to Cleveland.
+
+"That is my Latin translation," said Cleveland, pointing to the Laocoon.
+
+The library opened at the extreme end to a small cabinet for curiosities
+and medals, which, still in a straight line, conducted to a long
+belvidere, terminating in a little circular summer-house, that, by a
+sudden wind of the lake below, hung perpendicularly over its transparent
+tide, and, seen from the distance, appeared almost suspended on air, so
+light were its slender columns and arching dome. Another door from
+the library opened upon a corridor which conducted to the principal
+sleeping-chambers; the nearest door was that of Cleveland's private
+study communicating with his bedroom and dressing-closet. The other
+rooms were appropriated to, and named after, his several friends.
+
+Mr. Cleveland had been advised by a hasty line of the movements of his
+ward, and he received the young man with a smile of welcome, though
+his eyes were moist and his lips trembled--for the boy was like his
+father!--a new generation had commenced for Cleveland!
+
+"Welcome, my dear Ernest," said he; "I am so glad to see you, that I
+will not scold you for your mysterious absence. This is your room, you
+see your name over the door; it is a larger one than you used to have,
+for you are a man now; and there is your German sanctum adjoining--for
+Schiller and the meerschaum!--a bad habit that, the meerschaum! but
+not worse than the Schiller, perhaps. You see you are in the peristyle
+immediately. The meerschaum is good for flowers, I fancy, so have no
+scruple. Why, my dear boy, how pale you are! Be cheered--be cheered.
+Well, I must go myself, or you will infect me."
+
+Cleveland hurried away; he thought of his lost friend. Ernest sank upon
+the first chair, and buried his face in his hands. Cleveland's valet
+entered, and bustled about and unpacked the portmanteau, and arranged
+the evening dress. But Ernest did not look up nor speak; the first
+bell sounded; the second tolled unheard upon his ear. He was thoroughly
+overcome by his emotions. The first notes of Cleveland's kind voice had
+touched upon a soft chord, that months of anxiety and excitement had
+strained to anguish, but had never woke to tears. His nerves were
+shattered--those strong young nerves! He thought of his dead father when
+he first saw Cleveland; but when he glanced round the room prepared for
+him, and observed the care for his comfort, and the tender recollection
+of his most trifling peculiarities everywhere visible, Alice, the
+watchful, the humble, the loving, the lost Alice rose before him.
+Surprised at his ward's delay, Cleveland entered the room; there sat
+Ernest still, his face buried in his hands. Cleveland drew them gently
+away, and Maltravers sobbed like an infant. It was an easy matter
+to bring tears to the eyes of that young man: a generous or a tender
+thought, an old song, the simplest air of music, sufficed for that touch
+of the mother's nature. But the vehement and awful passion which belongs
+to manhood when thoroughly unmanned--this was the first time in which
+the relief of that stormy bitterness was known to him!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+ "Musing full sadly in his sullen mind."--SPENSER.
+
+ "There forth issued from under the altar-smoke
+  A dreadful fiend."--_Ibid. on Superstition_.
+
+NINE times out of ten it is over the Bridge of Sighs that we pass the
+narrow gulf from Youth to Manhood. That interval is usually occupied
+by an ill-placed or disappointed affection. We recover, and we find
+ourselves a new being. The intellect has been hardened by the fire
+through which it has passed. The mind profits by the wrecks of every
+passion, and we may measure our road to wisdom by the sorrows we have
+undergone.
+
+But Maltravers was yet on the bridge, and, for a time, both mind
+and body were prostrate and enfeebled. Cleveland had the sagacity to
+discover that the affections had their share in the change that he
+grieved to witness, but he had also the delicacy not to force himself
+into the young man's confidence. But by little and little his kindness
+so completely penetrated the heart of his ward, that Ernest one evening
+told his whole tale. As a man of the world, Cleveland perhaps rejoiced
+that it was no worse, for he had feared some existing entanglement
+perhaps with a married woman. But as a man who was better than the
+world in general, he sympathised with the unfortunate girl whom Ernest
+pictured to him in faithful and unflattered colours, and he long forbore
+consolations which he foresaw would be unavailing. He felt, indeed,
+that Ernest was not a man "to betray the noon of manhood to a
+myrtle-shade:"--that with so sanguine, buoyant, and hardy a temperament,
+he would at length recover from a depression which, if it could bequeath
+a warning, might as well not be wholly divested of remorse. And he also
+knew that few become either great authors or great men (and he fancied
+Ernest was born to be one or the other) without the fierce emotions and
+passionate struggles, through which the Wilhelm Meister of real life
+must work out his apprenticeship, and attain the Master Rank. But at
+last he had serious misgivings about the health of his ward. A constant
+and spectral gloom seemed bearing the young man to the grave. It was
+in vain that Cleveland, who secretly desired him to thirst for a public
+career, endeavoured to arouse his ambition--the boy's spirit seemed
+quite broken--and the visit of a political character, the mention of a
+political work, drove him at once into his solitary chamber. At length
+his mental disease took a new turn. He became, of a sudden, most
+morbidly and fanatically--I was about to say religious: but that is
+not the word; let me call it pseudo-religious. His strong sense and
+cultivated taste did not allow him to delight in the raving tracts of
+illiterate fanatics--and yet out of the benign and simple elements of
+the Scripture he conjured up for himself a fanaticism quite as gloomy
+and intense. He lost sight of God the Father, and night and day dreamed
+only of God the Avenger. His vivid imagination was perverted to raise
+out of its own abyss phantoms of colossal terror. He shuddered aghast
+at his own creations, and earth and heaven alike seemed black with
+the everlasting wrath. These symptoms completely baffled and perplexed
+Cleveland. He knew not what remedy to administer--and to his unspeakable
+grief and surprise he found that Ernest, in the true spirit of his
+strange bigotry, began to regard Cleveland--the amiable, the benevolent
+Cleveland--as one no less out of the pale of grace than himself. His
+elegant pursuits, his cheerful studies, were considered by the young but
+stern enthusiast as the miserable recreations of Mammon and the world.
+There seemed every probability that Ernest Maltravers would die in a
+madhouse or, at best, succeed to the delusions without the cheerful
+intervals of Cowper.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+ "Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit,
+  Restless--unfixed in principles and place."--DRYDEN.
+
+ "Whoever acquires a very great number of ideas interesting to
+  the society in which he lives, will be regarded in that society
+  as a man of abilities."--HELVETIUS.
+
+IT was just when Ernest Maltravers was so bad that he could not be worse
+that a young man visited Temple Grove. The name of this young man was
+Lumley Ferrers, his age was about twenty-six, his fortune about eight
+hundred a year--he followed no profession. Lumley Ferrers had not what
+is usually called genius; that is, he had no enthusiasm; and if the word
+talent be properly interpreted as meaning the talent of doing something
+better than others, Ferrers had not much to boast of on that score. He
+had no talent for writing, nor for music, nor painting, nor the ordinary
+round of accomplishments; neither at present had he displayed much of
+the hard and useful talent for action and business. But Ferrers had what
+is often better than either genius or talent; he had a powerful and most
+acute mind.
+
+He had, moreover, great animation of manner, high physical spirits,
+a witty, odd, racy vein of conversation, determined assurance, and
+profound confidence in his own resources. He was fond of schemes,
+stratagems, and plots--they amused and excited him--his power of
+sarcasm, and of argument, too, was great, and he usually obtained an
+astonishing influence over those with whom he was brought in contact.
+His high spirits and a most happy frankness of bearing carried off and
+disguised his leading vices of character, which were callousness to
+whatever was affectionate and insensibility to whatever was moral.
+Though less learned than Maltravers, he was on the whole a very
+instructed man. He mastered the surfaces of many sciences, became
+satisfied of their general principles, and threw the study aside never
+to be forgotten (for his memory was like a vice), but never to be
+prosecuted any further. To this he added a general acquaintance with
+whatever is most generally acknowledged as standard in ancient or modern
+literature. What is admired only by a few, Lumley never took the trouble
+to read. Living amongst trifles, he made them interesting and novel
+by his mode of viewing and treating them. And here indeed was _a_
+talent--it was the talent of social life--the talent of enjoyment to the
+utmost with the least degree of trouble to himself. Lumley Ferrers was
+thus exactly one of those men whom everybody calls exceedingly clever,
+and yet it would puzzle one to say in what he was so clever. It was,
+indeed, that nameless power which belongs to ability, and which makes
+one man superior, on the whole, to another, though in many details by
+no means remarkable. I think it is Goethe who says somewhere that, in
+reading the life of the greatest genius, we always find that he was
+acquainted with some men superior to himself, who yet never attained to
+general distinction. To the class of these mystical superior men Lumley
+Ferrers might have belonged; for though an ordinary journalist would
+have beaten him in the arts of composition, few men of genius, however
+eminent, could have felt themselves above Ferrers in the ready grasp and
+plastic vigour of natural intellect. It only remains to be said of this
+singular young man, whose character as yet was but half developed, that
+he had seen a great deal of the world, and could live at ease and in
+content with all tempers and ranks; fox-hunters or scholars, lawyers or
+poets, patricians or _parvenus_, it was all one to Lumley Ferrers.
+
+Ernest was, as usual, in his own room, when he heard, along the corridor
+without, all that indefinable bustling noise which announces an arrival.
+Next came a most ringing laugh, and then a sharp, clear, vigorous voice,
+that ran through his ears like a dagger. Ernest was immediately aroused
+to all the majesty of indignant sullenness. He walked out on the terrace
+of the portico, to avoid the repetition of the disturbance: and once
+more settled back into his broken and hypochondriacal reveries. Pacing
+to and fro that part of the peristyle which occupied the more retired
+wing of the house, with his arms folded, his eyes downcast, his brows
+knit, and all the angel darkened on that countenance which formerly
+looked as if, like truth, it could shame the devil and defy the world,
+Ernest followed the evil thought that mastered him, through the Valley
+of the Shadow. Suddenly he was aware of something--some obstacle which
+he had not previously encountered. He started, and saw before him
+a young man, of plain dress, gentlemanlike appearance, and striking
+countenance.
+
+"Mr. Maltravers, I think," said the stranger, and Ernest recognised the
+voice that had so disturbed him: "this is lucky; we can now introduce
+ourselves, for I find Cleveland means us to be intimate. Mr. Lumley
+Ferrers, Mr. Ernest Maltravers. There now, I am the elder, so I first
+offer my hand, and grin properly. People always grin when they make a
+new acquaintance! Well, that's settled. Which way are you walking?"
+
+Maltravers could, when he chose it, be as stately as if he had never
+been out of England. He now drew himself up in displeased astonishment;
+extricated his hand from the gripe of Ferrers, and saying, very coldly,
+"Excuse me, sir, I am busy," stalked back to his chamber. He threw
+himself into his chair, and was presently forgetful of his late
+annoyance, when, to his inexpressible amazement and wrath, he heard
+again the sharp, clear voice close at his elbow.
+
+Ferrers had followed him through the French casement into the room.
+"You are busy, you say, my dear fellow. I want to write some letters:
+we sha'n't interrupt each other--don't disturb yourself:" and Ferrers
+seated himself at the writing-table, dipped a pen into the ink, arranged
+blotting-book and paper before him in due order, and was soon employed
+in covering page after page with the most rapid and hieroglyphical
+scrawl that ever engrossed a mistress or perplexed a dun.
+
+"The presuming puppy!" growled Maltravers, half audibly, but effectually
+roused from himself; and examining with some curiosity so cool an
+intruder, he was forced to own that the countenance of Ferrers was not
+that of a puppy.
+
+A forehead compact and solid as a block of granite, overhung small,
+bright, intelligent eyes of a light hazel; the features were handsome,
+yet rather too sharp and fox-like; the complexion, though not highly
+coloured, was of that hardy, healthy hue which generally betokens a
+robust constitution, and high animal spirits; the jaw was massive, and,
+to a physiognomist, betokened firmness and strength of character; but
+the lips, full and large, were those of a sensualist, and their restless
+play, an habitual half smile, spoke of gaiety and humour, though when in
+repose there was in them something furtive and sinister.
+
+Maltravers looked at him in grave silence; but when Ferrers, concluding
+his fourth letter before another man would have got through his
+first page, threw down the pen, and looked full at Maltravers, with a
+good-humoured but penetrating stare, there was something so whimsical in
+the intruder's expression of face, and indeed in the whole scene, that
+Maltravers bit his lip to restrain a smile, the first he had known for
+weeks.
+
+"I see you read, Maltravers," said Ferrers, carelessly turning over the
+volumes on the table. "All very right: we should begin life with books;
+they multiply the sources of employment; so does capital;--but capital
+is of no use, unless we live on the interest,--books are waste paper,
+unless we spend in action the wisdom we get from thought. Action,
+Maltravers, action; that is the life for us. At our age we have passion,
+fancy, sentiment; we can't read them away, or scribble them away;--we
+must live upon them generously, but economically."
+
+Maltravers was struck; the intruder was not the empty bore he had
+chosen to fancy him. He roused himself languidly to reply. "Life, _Mr._
+Ferrers--"
+
+"Stop, _mon cher_, stop; don't call me Mister; we are to be friends; I
+hate delaying that which _must be_, even by a superfluous dissyllable;
+you are Maltravers, I am Ferrers. But you were going to talk about life.
+Suppose we _live_ a little while, instead of talking about it? It wants
+an hour to dinner; let us stroll into the grounds; I want to get an
+appetite;--besides, I like nature when there are no Swiss mountains to
+climb before one can arrive at a prospect. _Allons_!"
+
+"Excuse--" again began Maltravers, half interested, half annoyed.
+
+"I'll be shot if I do. Come."
+
+Ferrers gave Maltravers his hat, wound his arm into that of his new
+acquaintance, and they were on the broad terrace by the lake before
+Ernest was aware of it.
+
+How animated, how eccentric, how easy was Ferrers' talk (for talk it
+was, rather than conversation, since he had the ball to himself); books,
+and men, and things; he tossed them about and played with them like
+shuttlecocks; and then his egotistical narrative of half a hundred
+adventures, in which he had been the hero, told so, that you laughed at
+him and laughed with him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+ "Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger,
+  Comes dancing from the east."--MILTON.
+
+HITHERTO Ernest had never met with any mind that had exercised a strong
+influence over his own. At home, at school, at Gottingen, everywhere,
+he had been the brilliant and wayward leader of others, persuading or
+commanding wiser and older heads than his own: even Cleveland always
+yielded to him, though not aware of it. In fact, it seldom happens that
+we are very strongly influenced by those much older than ourselves. It
+is the senior, of from two to ten years, that most seduces and enthrals
+us. He has the same pursuits--views, objects, pleasures, but more art
+and experience in them all. He goes with us in the path we are ordained
+to tread, but from which the elder generation desires to warn us off.
+There is very little influence where there is not great sympathy. It
+was now an epoch in the intellectual life of Maltravers. He met for the
+first time with a mind that controlled his own. Perhaps the physical
+state of his nerves made him less able to cope with the half-bullying,
+but thoroughly good-humoured imperiousness of Ferrers. Every day this
+stranger became more and more potential with Maltravers. Ferrers,
+who was an utter egotist, never asked his new friend to give him his
+confidence; he never cared three straws about other people's secrets,
+unless useful to some purpose of his own. But he talked with so much
+zest about himself--about women and pleasure, and the gay, stirring life
+of cities--that the young spirit of Maltravers was roused from its dark
+lethargy without an effort of its own. The gloomy phantoms vanished
+gradually--his sense broke from its cloud--he felt once more that God
+had given the sun to light the day, and even in the midst of darkness
+had called up the host of stars.
+
+Perhaps no other person could have succeeded so speedily in curing
+Maltravers of his diseased enthusiasm: a crude or sarcastic unbeliever
+he would not have listened to; a moderate and enlightened divine he
+would have disregarded, as a worldly and cunning adjuster of laws
+celestial with customs earthly. But Lumley Ferrers, who, when he argued,
+never admitted a sentiment or a simile in reply, who wielded his plain
+iron logic like a hammer, which, though its metal seemed dull, kindled
+the ethereal spark with every stroke--Lumley Ferrers was just the man to
+resist the imagination, and convince the reason, of Maltravers; and the
+moment the matter came to argument, the cure was soon completed: for,
+however we may darken and puzzle ourselves with fancies and visions,
+and the ingenuities of fanatical mysticism, no man can mathematically or
+syllogistically contend that the world which a God made, and a Saviour
+visited, was designed to be damned.
+
+And Ernest Maltravers one night softly stole to his room and opened the
+New Testament, and read its heavenly moralities with purged eyes; and
+when he had done, he fell upon his knees, and prayed the Almighty
+to pardon the ungrateful heart that, worse than the Atheist's, had
+confessed His existence, but denied His goodness. His sleep was sweet
+and his dreams were cheerful. Did he rise to find that the penitence
+which had shaken his reason would henceforth suffice to save his life
+from all error? Alas! remorse overstrained has too often reactions as
+dangerous; and homely Luther says well, that "the mind, like the drunken
+peasant on horseback, when propped on the one side, nods and falls on
+the other."--All that can be said is, that there are certain crises in
+life which leave us long weaker; from which the system recovers with
+frequent revulsion and weary relapse,--but from which, looking back,
+after years have passed on, we date the foundation of strength or the
+cure of disease. It is not to mean souls that creation is darkened by a
+fear of the anger of Heaven.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+ "There are times when we are diverted out of errors, but could
+  not be preached out of them.--There are practitioners who can cure
+  us of one disorder, though, in ordinary cases, they be but poor
+  physicians--nay, dangerous quacks."-STEPHEN MONTAGUE.
+
+LUMLEY FERRERS had one rule in life; and it was this: to make all things
+and all persons subservient to himself. And Ferrers now intended to go
+abroad for some years. He wanted a companion, for he disliked solitude:
+besides, a companion shared the expenses; and a man of eight hundred a
+year, who desires all the luxuries of life, does not despise a partner
+in the taxes to be paid for them. Ferrers, at this period, rather liked
+Ernest than not: it was convenient to choose friends from those richer
+than himself, and he resolved, when he first came to Temple Grove, that
+Ernest should be his travelling companion. This resolution formed, it
+was very easy to execute it.
+
+Maltravers was now warmly attached to his new friend, and eager for
+change. Cleveland was sorry to part with him; but he dreaded a relapse,
+if the young man were again left upon his hands. Accordingly, the
+guardian's consent was obtained; a travelling carriage was bought, and
+fitted up with every imaginable imperial and _malle_. A Swiss (half
+valet and half courier) was engaged, one thousand a year was allowed
+to Maltravers;--and one soft and lovely morning, towards the close of
+October, Ferrers and Maltravers found themselves midway on the road to
+Dover.
+
+"How glad I am to get out of England," said Ferrers: "it is a famous
+country for the rich; but here, eight hundred a year, without a
+profession, save that of pleasure, goes upon pepper and salt; it is a
+luxurious competence abroad."
+
+"I think I have heard Cleveland say that you will be rich some day or
+other."
+
+"O yes: I have what are called expectations! You must know that I have
+a kind of settlement on two stools, the Well-born and the Wealthy;
+but between two stools--you recollect the proverb! The present Lord
+Saxingham, once plain Frank Lascelles, and my father, Mr. Ferrers, were
+first cousins. Two or three relations good-naturedly died, and Frank
+Lascelles became an earl; the lands did not go with the coronet; he was
+poor, and married an heiress. The lady died; her estate was settled
+on her only child, the handsomest little girl you ever saw. Pretty
+Florence, I often wish I could look up to you! Her fortune will be
+nearly all at her own disposal, too, when she comes of age; now she is
+in the nursery, 'eating bread and honey.' My father, less lucky and less
+wise than his cousin, thought fit to marry a Miss Templeton--a nobody.
+The Saxingham branch of the family politely dropped the acquaintance.
+Now, my mother had a brother, a clever, plodding fellow, in what is
+called 'business:' he became richer and richer: but my father and mother
+died, and were never the better for it. And I came of age, and
+_worth_ (I like that expression) not a farthing more or less than this
+often-quoted eight hundred pounds a year. My rich uncle is married, but
+has no children. I am, therefore, heir-presumptive,--but he is a saint,
+and close, though ostentatious. The quarrel between Uncle Templeton
+and the Saxinghams still continues. Templeton is angry if I see the
+Saxinghams and the Saxinghams--my Lord, at least--is by no means so sure
+that I shall be Templeton's heir as not to feel a doubt lest I should
+some day or other sponge upon his lordship for a place. Lord Saxingham
+is in the administration, you know. Somehow or other I have an equivocal
+amphibious kind of place in London society, which I don't like; on one
+side I am a patrician connection, whom the _parvenu_ branches always
+incline lovingly to--and on the other side I am a half-dependent cadet,
+whom the noble relations look civilly shy at. Some day, when I grow
+tired of travel and idleness, I shall come back and wrestle with these
+little difficulties, conciliate my methodistical uncle, and grapple with
+my noble cousin. But now I am fit for something better than getting on
+in the world. Dry chips, not green wood, are the things for making a
+blaze! How slow this fellow drives! Hollo, you sir! get on! mind, twelve
+miles to the hour! You shall have sixpence a mile. Give me your purse,
+Maltravers; I may as well be cashier, being the elder and the wiser man;
+we can settle accounts at the end of the journey. By Jove, what a pretty
+girl!"
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II.
+
+ "He, of wide-blooming youth's fair flower possest,
+  Owns the vain thoughts--the heart that cannot rest!"
+   SIMONIDES, _in Tit. Hum_.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ "Il y eut certainement quelque chose de singulier dans mes
+  sentimens pour cette charmante femme."*--ROUSSEAU.
+
+* There certainly was something singular in my sentiments for this
+charming woman.
+
+IT was a brilliant ball at the Palazzo of the Austrian embassy at
+Naples: and a crowd of those loungers, whether young or old, who
+attach themselves to the reigning beauty, was gathered round Madame de
+Ventadour. Generally speaking, there is more caprice than taste in
+the election of a beauty to the Italian throne. Nothing disappoints a
+stranger more than to see for the first time the woman to whom the
+world has given the golden apple. Yet he usually falls at last into the
+popular idolatry, and passes with inconceivable rapidity from indignant
+scepticism into superstitious veneration. In fact, a thousand things
+beside mere symmetry of feature go to make up the Cytherea of the
+hour.--tact in society--the charm of manner--nameless and piquant
+brilliancy. Where the world find the Graces they proclaim the Venus.
+Few persons attain pre-eminent celebrity for anything, without some
+adventitious and extraneous circumstances which have nothing to do
+with the thing celebrated. Some qualities or some circumstances throw a
+mysterious or personal charm about them. "Is Mr. So-and-So really such
+a genius?" "Is Mrs. Such-a-One really such a beauty?" you ask
+incredulously. "Oh, yes," is the answer. "Do you know all about him or
+her? Such a thing is said, or such a thing has happened." The idol is
+interesting in itself, and therefore its leading and popular attribute
+is worshipped.
+
+Now Madame de Ventadour was at this time the beauty of Naples: and
+though fifty women in the room were handsomer, no one would have dared
+to say so. Even the women confessed her pre-eminence--for she was
+the most perfect dresser that even France could exhibit. And to no
+pretensions do ladies ever concede with so little demur, as those which
+depend upon that feminine art which all study, and in which few excel.
+Women never allow beauty in a face that has an odd-looking bonnet
+above it, nor will they readily allow any one to be ugly whose caps are
+unexceptionable. Madame de Ventadour had also the magic that results
+from intuitive high breeding, polished by habit to the utmost. She
+looked and moved the _grande dame_, as if Nature had been employed by
+Rank to make her so. She was descended from one of the most illustrious
+houses of France; had married at sixteen a man of equal birth, but old,
+dull, and pompous--a caricature rather than a portrait of that great
+French _noblesse_, now almost if not wholly extinct. But her virtue was
+without a blemish--some said from pride, some said from coldness. Her
+wit was keen and court-like--lively, yet subdued; for her French
+high breeding was very different from the lethargic and taciturn
+imperturbability of the English. All silent people can seem
+conventionally elegant. A groom married a rich lady; he dreaded the
+ridicule of the guests whom his new rank assembled at his table--an
+Oxford clergyman gave him this piece of advice, "Wear a black coat and
+hold your tongue!" The groom took the hint, and is always considered
+one of the most gentlemanlike fellows in the county. Conversation is the
+touchstone of the true delicacy and subtle grace which make the ideal
+of the moral mannerism of a court. And there sat Madame de Ventadour,
+a little apart from the dancers, with the silent English dandy Lord
+Taunton, exquisitely dressed and superbly tall, bolt upright behind
+her chair; and the sentimental German Baron von Schomberg, covered with
+orders, whiskered and wigged to the last hair of perfection, sighing at
+her left hand; and the French minister, shrewd, bland, and eloquent, in
+the chair at her right; and round on all sides pressed, and bowed, and
+complimented, a crowd of diplomatic secretaries and Italian princes,
+whose bank is at the gaming-table, whose estates are in their galleries,
+and who sell a picture, as English gentlemen cut down a wood, whenever
+the cards grow gloomy. The charming De Ventadour! she had attraction for
+them all! smiles for the silent, badinage for the gay, politics for the
+Frenchman, poetry for the German, the eloquence of loveliness for all!
+She was looking her best--the slightest possible tinge of rouge gave
+a glow to her transparent complexion, and lighted up those large dark
+sparkling eyes (with a latent softness beneath the sparkle) seldom seen
+but in the French--and widely distinct from the unintellectual languish
+of the Spaniard, or the full and majestic fierceness of the Italian
+gaze. Her dress of black velvet, and graceful hat with its princely
+plume, contrasted the alabaster whiteness of her arms and neck. And what
+with the eyes, the skin, the rich colouring of the complexion, the
+rosy lips and the small ivory teeth, no one would have had the cold
+hypercriticism to observe that the chin was too pointed, the mouth too
+wide, and the nose, so beautiful in the front face, was far from perfect
+in the profile.
+
+"Pray was Madame in the Strada Nuova to-day?" asked the German, with as
+much sweetness in his voice as if he had been vowing eternal love.
+
+"What else have we to do with our mornings, we women?" replied Madame de
+Ventadour. "Our life is a lounge from the cradle to the grave; and
+our afternoons are but the type of our career. A promenade and
+a crowd,--_voila tout_! We never see the world except in an open
+carriage."
+
+"It is the pleasantest way of seeing it," said the Frenchman, drily.
+
+"I doubt it; the worst fatigue is that which comes without exercise."
+
+"Will you do me the honour to waltz?" said the tall English lord, who
+had a vague idea that Madame de Ventadour meant she would rather dance
+than sit still. The Frenchman smiled.
+
+"Lord Taunton enforces your own philosophy," said the minister.
+
+Lord Taunton smiled because every one else smiled; and, besides, he had
+beautiful teeth: but he looked anxious for an answer.
+
+"Not to-night,--I seldom dance. Who is that very pretty woman? What
+lovely complexions the English have! And who," continued Madame de
+Ventadour, without waiting for an answer to the first question, "who is
+that gentleman,--the young one I mean,--leaning against the door?"
+
+"What, with the dark moustache?" said Lord Taunton. "He is a cousin of
+mine."
+
+"Oh, no; not Colonel Bellfield; I know him--how amusing he is!--no; the
+gentleman I mean wears no moustache."
+
+"Oh, the tall Englishman with the bright eyes and high forehead," said
+the French minister. "He is just arrived--from the East, I believe."
+
+"It is a striking countenance," said Madame de Ventadour; "there is
+something chivalrous in the turn of the head. Without doubt, Lord
+Taunton, he is '_noble_'?"
+
+"He is what you call '_noble_,'" replied Lord Taunton--"that is, what we
+call a 'gentleman;' his name is Maltravers. He lately came of age; and
+has, I believe, rather a good property."
+
+"Monsieur Maltravers; only Monsieur?" repeated Madame de Ventadour.
+
+"Why," said the French minister, "you understand that the English
+_gentilhomme_ does not require a De or a title to distinguish him from
+the _roturier_."
+
+"I know that; but he has an air above a simple _gentilhomme_. There
+is something _great_ in his look; but it is not, I must own, the
+conventional greatness of rank: perhaps he would have looked the same
+had he been born a peasant."
+
+"You don't think him handsome?" said Lord Taunton, almost angrily (for
+he was one of the Beauty-men, and Beauty-men are sometimes jealous).
+
+"Handsome! I did not say that," replied Madame de Ventadour, smiling;
+"it is rather a fine head than a handsome face. Is he clever, I
+wonder?--but all you English, milord, are well educated."
+
+"Yes, profound--profound: we are profound, not superficial," replied
+Lord Taunton, drawing down his wrist-bands.
+
+"Will Madame de Ventadour allow me to present to her one of my
+countrymen?" said the English minister approaching--"Mr. Maltravers."
+
+Madame de Ventadour half smiled and half blushed, as she looked up, and
+saw bent admiringly upon her the proud and earnest countenance she had
+remarked.
+
+The introduction made--a few monosyllables exchanged. The French
+diplomatist rose and walked away with the English one. Maltravers
+succeeded to the vacant chair.
+
+"Have you been long abroad?" asked Madame de Ventadour.
+
+"Only four years; yet long enough to ask whether I should not be most
+abroad in England."
+
+"You have been in the East--I envy you. And Greece, and Egypt,--all the
+associations! You have travelled back into the Past; you have escaped,
+as Madame D'Epinay wished, out of civilisation and into romance."
+
+"Yet Madame D'Epinay passed her own life in making pretty romances out
+of a very agreeable civilisation," said Maltravers, smiling.
+
+"You know her Memoirs, then," said Madame de Ventadour, slightly
+colouring. "In the current of a more exciting literature few have had
+time for the second-rate writings of a past century."
+
+"Are not those second-rate performances often the most charming," said
+Maltravers, "when the mediocrity of the intellect seems almost as if it
+were the effect of a touching, though too feeble, delicacy of sentiment?
+Madame D'Epinay's Memoirs are of this character. She was not a virtuous
+woman--but she felt virtue and loved it; she was not a woman of
+genius--but she was tremblingly alive to all the influences of genius.
+Some people seem born with the temperament and the tastes of genius
+without its creative power; they have its nervous system, but something
+is wanting in the intellectual. They feel acutely, yet express tamely.
+These persons always have in their character an unspeakable kind of
+pathos--a court civilisation produces many of them--and the French
+memoirs of the last century are particularly fraught with such examples.
+This is interesting--the struggle of sensitive minds against the
+lethargy of a society, dull, yet brilliant, that _glares_ them, as it
+were, to sleep. It comes home to us; for," added Maltravers, with a
+slight change of voice, "how many of us fancy we see our own image in
+the mirror!"
+
+And where was the German baron?--flirting at the other end of the room.
+And the English lord?--dropping monosyllables to dandies by the doorway.
+And the minor satellites?--dancing, whispering, making love, or sipping
+lemonade. And Madame de Ventadour was alone with the young stranger in
+a crowd of eight hundred persons; and their lips spoke of sentiment, and
+their eyes involuntarily applied it!
+
+While they were thus conversing, Maltravers was suddenly startled by
+hearing close behind him, a sharp, significant voice, saying in French,
+"Hein, hein! I've my suspicions--I've my suspicions."
+
+Madame de Ventadour looked round with a smile. "It is only my husband,"
+said she, quietly; "let me introduce him to you."
+
+Maltravers rose and bowed to a little thin man, most elaborately
+dressed, and with an immense pair of spectacles upon a long sharp nose.
+
+"Charmed to make your acquaintance, sir!" said Monsieur de Ventadour.
+"Have you been long in Naples?... Beautiful weather--won't last
+long--hein, hein, I've my suspicions! No news as to your parliament--be
+dissolved soon! Bad opera in London this year!--hein, hein--I've my
+suspicions."
+
+This rapid monologue was delivered with appropriate gesture. Each
+new sentence Mons. de Ventadour began with a sort of bow, and when
+it dropped in the almost invariable conclusion affirmative of his
+shrewdness and incredulity, he made a mystical sign with his forefinger
+by passing it upward in a parallel line with his nose, which at the
+same time performed its own part in the ceremony by three convulsive
+twitches, that seemed to shake the bridge to its base.
+
+Maltravers looked with mute surprise upon the connubial partner of the
+graceful creature by his side, and Mons. de Ventadour, who had said as
+much as he thought necessary, wound up his eloquence by expressing the
+rapture it would give him to see Mons. Maltravers at his hotel. Then,
+turning to his wife, he began assuring her of the lateness of the hour,
+and the expediency of departure. Maltravers glided away, and as he
+regained the door was seized by our old friend, Lumley Ferrers. "Come,
+my dear fellow," said the latter; "I have been waiting for you this half
+hour. _Allons_. But, perhaps, as I am dying to go to bed, you have
+made up your mind to stay supper. Some people have no regard for other
+people's feelings."
+
+"No, Ferrers, I'm at your service;" and the young man descended the
+stairs and passed along the Chiaja towards their hotel. As they gained
+the broad and open space on which it stood, with the lovely sea before
+them, sleeping in the arms of the curving shore, Maltravers, who had
+hitherto listened in silence to the volubility of his companion, paused
+abruptly.
+
+"Look at that sea, Ferrers.... What a scene!--what delicious air! How
+soft this moonlight! Can you not fancy the old Greek adventurers,
+when they first colonised this divine Parthenope--the darling of the
+ocean--gazing along those waves, and pining no more for Greece?"
+
+"I cannot fancy anything of the sort," said Ferrers.... "And, depend
+upon it, the said gentlemen, at this hour of the night, unless they were
+on some piratical excursion--for they were cursed ruffians, those old
+Greek colonists--were fast asleep in their beds."
+
+"Did you ever write poetry, Ferrers?"
+
+"To be sure; all clever men have written poetry once in their
+lives--small-pox and poetry--they are our two juvenile diseases."
+
+"And did you ever _feel_ poetry!"
+
+"Feel it!"
+
+"Yes, if you put the moon into your verses, did you first feel it
+shining into your heart?"
+
+"My dear Maltravers, if I put the moon into my verses, in all
+probability it was to rhyme to noon. 'The night was at her noon'--is a
+capital ending for the first hexameter--and the moon is booked for the
+next stage. Come in."
+
+"No, I shall stay out."
+
+"Don't be nonsensical."
+
+"By moonlight there is no nonsense like common sense."
+
+"What! we--who have climbed the Pyramids, and sailed up the Nile, and
+seen magic at Cairo, and been nearly murdered, bagged, and Bosphorized
+at Constantinople, is it for us, who have gone through so many
+adventures, looked on so many scenes, and crowded into four years events
+that would have satisfied the appetite of a cormorant in romance, if it
+had lived to the age of a phoenix;--is it for us to be doing the pretty
+and sighing to the moon, like a black-haired apprentice without a
+neckcloth on board of the Margate hoy? Nonsense, I say--we have lived
+too much not to have lived away our green sickness of sentiment."
+
+"Perhaps you are right, Ferrers," said Maltravers, smiling. "But I can
+still enjoy a beautiful night."
+
+"Oh, if you like flies in your soup, as the man said to his guest, when
+he carefully replaced those entomological blackamoors in the tureen,
+after helping himself--if you like flies in your soup, well and
+good--_buona notte_."
+
+Ferrers certainly was right in his theory, that when we have known real
+adventures we grow less morbidly sentimental. Life is a sleep in which
+we dream most at the commencement and the close--the middle part absorbs
+us too much for dreams. But still, as Maltravers said, we can enjoy a
+fine night, especially on the shores of Naples.
+
+Maltravers paced musingly to and fro for some time. His heart was
+softened--old rhymes rang in his ear--old memories passed through
+his brain. But the sweet dark eyes of Madame de Ventadour shone forth
+through every shadow of the past. Delicious intoxication--the draught of
+the rose-coloured phial--which is fancy, but seems love!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+ "Then 'gan the Palmer thus--'Most wretched man
+  That to affections dost the bridle lend:
+  In their beginnings they are weak and wan,
+  But soon, through suffrance, growe to fearfull end;
+  While they are weak, betimes with them contend.'"
+   SPENSER.
+
+MALTRAVERS went frequently to the house of Madame de Ventadour--it was
+open twice a week to the world, and thrice a week to friends. Maltravers
+was soon of the latter class. Madame de Ventadour had been in England
+in her childhood, for her parents had been _emigres_. She spoke English
+well and fluently, and this pleased Maltravers; for though the French
+language was sufficiently familiar to him, he was like most who are more
+vain of the mind than the person, and proudly averse to hazarding his
+best thoughts in the domino of a foreign language. We don't care
+how faulty the accent, or how incorrect the idiom, in which we talk
+nothings; but if we utter any of the poetry within us, we shudder at the
+risk of the most trifling solecism.
+
+This was especially the case with Maltravers; for, besides being now
+somewhat ripened from his careless boyhood into a proud and fastidious
+man, he had a natural love for the Becoming. This love was unconsciously
+visible in trifles: it is the natural parent of Good Taste. And it was
+indeed an inborn good taste which redeemed Ernest's natural carelessness
+in those personal matters in which young men usually take a pride. An
+habitual and soldier-like neatness, and a love of order and symmetry,
+stood with him in the stead of elaborate attention to equipage and
+dress.
+
+Maltravers had not thought twice in his life whether he was handsome or
+not; and, like most men who have a knowledge of the gentler sex, he knew
+that beauty had little to do with engaging the love of women. The air,
+the manner, the tone, the conversation, the something that interests,
+and the something to be proud of--these are the attributes of the man
+made to be loved. And the Beauty-man is, nine times out of ten, little
+more than the oracle of his aunts, and the "_Sich_ a love!" of the
+housemaids!
+
+To return from this digression, Maltravers was glad that he could talk
+in his own language to Madame de Ventadour; and the conversation between
+them generally began in French, and glided away into English. Madame
+de Ventadour was eloquent, and so was Maltravers; yet a more complete
+contrast in their mental views and conversational peculiarities can
+scarcely be conceived. Madame de Ventadour viewed everything as a woman
+of the world: she was brilliant, thoughtful, and not without delicacy
+and tenderness of sentiment; still all was cast in a worldly mould. She
+had been formed by the influences of society, and her mind betrayed its
+education. At once witty and melancholy (no uncommon union), she was a
+disciple of the sad but caustic philosophy produced by _satiety_. In the
+life she led, neither her heart nor her head was engaged; the faculties
+of both were irritated, not satisfied or employed. She felt somewhat too
+sensitively the hollowness of the great world, and had a low opinion
+of human nature. In fact, she was a woman of the French memoirs--one of
+those charming and _spirituelles_ Aspasias of the boudoir, who
+interest us by their subtlety, tact, and grace, their exquisite tone of
+refinement, and are redeemed from the superficial and frivolous, partly
+by a consummate knowledge of the social system in which they move, and
+partly by a half-concealed and touching discontent of the trifles on
+which their talents and affections are wasted. These are the women
+who, after a youth of false pleasure, often end by an old age of false
+devotion. They are a class peculiar to those ranks and countries in
+which shines and saddens that gay and unhappy thing--_a woman without a
+home_!
+
+Now this was a specimen of life--this Valerie de Ventadour--that
+Maltravers had never yet contemplated, and Maltravers was perhaps
+equally new to the Frenchwoman. They were delighted with each other's
+society, although it so happened that they never agreed.
+
+Madame de Ventadour rode on horseback, and Maltravers was one of her
+usual companions. And oh, the beautiful landscapes through which their
+daily excursions lay!
+
+Maltravers was an admirable scholar. The stores of the immortal dead
+were as familiar to him as his own language. The poetry, the philosophy,
+the manner of thought and habits of life--of the graceful Greek and the
+luxurious Roman--were a part of knowledge that constituted a common and
+household portion of his own associations and peculiarities of thought.
+He had saturated his intellect with the Pactolus of old--and the
+grains of gold came down from the classic Tmolus with every tide. This
+knowledge of the dead, often so useless, has an inexpressible charm when
+it is applied to the places where the dead lived. We care nothing about
+the ancients on Highgate Hill--but at Baiae, Pompeii, by the Virgilian
+Hades, the ancients are society with which we thirst to be familiar.
+To the animated and curious Frenchwoman what a cicerone was Ernest
+Maltravers! How eagerly she listened to accounts of a life more elegant
+than that of Paris!--of a civilisation which the world never can know
+again! So much the better;--for it was rotten at the core, though most
+brilliant in the complexion. Those cold names and unsubstantial shadows
+which Madame de Ventadour had been accustomed to yawn over in skeleton
+histories, took from the eloquence of Maltravers the breath of
+life--they glowed and moved--they feasted and made love--were wise
+and foolish, merry and sad, like living things. On the other hand,
+Maltravers learned a thousand new secrets of the existing and actual
+world from the lips of the accomplished and observant Valerie. What a
+new step in the philosophy of life does a young man of genius make, when
+he first compares his theories and experience with the intellect of a
+clever woman of the world! Perhaps it does not elevate him, but how it
+enlightens and refines!--what numberless minute yet important mysteries
+in human character and practical wisdom does he drink unconsciously from
+the sparkling _persiflage_ of such a companion! Our education is hardly
+ever complete without it.
+
+"And so you think these stately Romans were not, after all, so
+dissimilar to ourselves?" said Valerie, one day, as they looked over the
+same earth and ocean along which had roved the eyes of the voluptuous
+but august Lucullus.
+
+"In the last days of their Republic, a _coup-d'oeil_ of their social
+date might convey to us a general notion of our own. Their system, like
+ours--a vast aristocracy heaved and agitated, but kept ambitious and
+intellectual, by the great democratic ocean which roared below and
+around it. An immense distinction between rich and poor--a nobility
+sumptuous, wealthy, cultivated, yet scarcely elegant or refined; a
+people with mighty aspirations for more perfect liberty, but always
+liable, in a crisis, to be influenced and subdued by a deep-rooted
+veneration for the very aristocracy against which they struggled;--a
+ready opening through all the walls of custom and privilege, for every
+description of talent and ambition; but so strong and universal a
+respect for wealth, that the finest spirit grew avaricious, griping, and
+corrupt, almost unconsciously; and the man who rose from the people did
+not scruple to enrich himself out of the abuses he affected to lament;
+and the man who would have died for his country could not help thrusting
+his hands into her pockets. Cassius, the stubborn and thoughtful
+patriot, with his heart of iron, had, you remember, an itching palm.
+Yet, what a blow to all the hopes and dreams of a world was the
+overthrow of the free party after the death of Caesar! What generations
+of freemen fell at Philippi! In England, perhaps, we may have ultimately
+the same struggle; in France, too (perhaps a larger stage, with far more
+inflammable actors), we already perceive the same war of elements which
+shook Rome to her centre, which finally replaced the generous Julius
+with the hypocritical Augustus, which destroyed the colossal patricians
+to make way for the glittering dwarfs of a court, and cheated the people
+out of the substance with the shadow of liberty. How it may end in
+the modern world, who shall say? But while a nation has already a fair
+degree of constitutional freedom, I believe no struggle so perilous and
+awful as that between the aristocratic and the democratic principle.
+A people against a despot--_that_ contest requires no prophet; but the
+change from an aristocratic to a democratic commonwealth is indeed the
+wide, unbounded prospect upon which rest shadows, clouds, and darkness.
+If it fail--for centuries is the dial-hand of Time put back; if it
+succeed--"
+
+Maltravers paused.
+
+"And if it succeed?" said Valerie.
+
+"Why, then, man will have colonised Utopia!" replied Maltravers.
+
+"But at least, in modern Europe," he continued, "there will be fair room
+for the experiment. For we have not that curse of slavery which, more
+than all else, vitiated every system of the ancients, and kept the rich
+and the poor alternately at war; and we have a press, which is not only
+the safety-valve of the passions of every party, but the great note-book
+of the experiments of every hour--the homely, the invaluable ledger of
+losses and of gains. No; the people who keep that tablet well, never
+can be bankrupt. And the society of those old Romans; their daily
+passions--occupations--humours!--why, the satire of Horace is the glass
+of our own follies! We may fancy his easy pages written in the Chaussee
+d'Antin, or Mayfair; but there was one thing that will ever keep the
+ancient world dissimilar from the modern."
+
+"And what is that?"
+
+"The ancients knew not that delicacy in the affections which
+characterises the descendants of the Goths," said Maltravers, and his
+voice slightly trembled; "they gave up to the monopoly of the senses
+what ought to have had an equal share in the reason and the imagination.
+Their love was a beautiful and wanton butterfly; but not the butterfly
+which is the emblem of the soul."
+
+Valerie sighed. She looked timidly into the face of the young
+philosopher, but his eyes were averted.
+
+"Perhaps," she said, after a short pause, "we pass our lives more
+happily without love than with it. And in our modern social system" (she
+continued, thoughtfully, and with profound truth, though it is scarcely
+the conclusion to which a woman often arrives) "I think we have pampered
+Love to too great a preponderance over the other excitements of life.
+As children, we are taught to dream of it; in youth, our books, our
+conversation, our plays, are filled with it. We are trained to consider
+it the essential of life; and yet, the moment we come to actual
+experience, the moment we indulge this inculcated and stimulated
+craving, nine times out of ten we find ourselves wretched and undone.
+Ah, believe me, Mr. Maltravers, this is not a world in which we should
+preach up too far the philosophy of Love!"
+
+"And does Madame de Ventadour speak from experience?" asked Maltravers,
+gazing earnestly upon the changing countenance of his companion.
+
+"No; and I trust that I never may!" said Valerie, with great energy.
+
+Ernest's lip curled slightly, for his pride was touched.
+
+"I could give up many dreams of the future," said he, "to hear Madame de
+Ventadour revoke that sentiment."
+
+"We have outridden our companions, Mr. Maltravers," said Valerie,
+coldly, and she reined in her horse. "Ah, Mr. Ferrers," she continued,
+as Lumley and the handsome German baron now joined her, "you are too
+gallant; I see you imply a delicate compliment to my horsemanship, when
+you wish me to believe you cannot keep up with me: Mr. Maltravers is not
+so polite."
+
+"Nay," returned Ferrers, who rarely threw away a compliment without a
+satisfactory return, "Nay, you and Maltravers appeared lost among the
+old Romans; and our friend the baron took that opportunity to tell me of
+all the ladies who adored him."
+
+"Ah, Monsieur Ferrare, _que vous etes malin_!" said Schomberg, looking
+very much confused.
+
+"_Malin_! no; I spoke from no envy: _I_ never was adored, thank Heaven!
+What a bore it must be!"
+
+"I congratulate you on the sympathy between yourself and Ferrers,"
+whispered Maltravers to Valerie.
+
+Valerie laughed; but during the rest of the excursion she remained
+thoughtful and absent, and for some days their rides were discontinued.
+Madame de Ventadour was not well.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ "O Love, forsake me not;
+  Mine were a lone dark lot
+  Bereft of thee."
+   HEMANS, _Genius singing to Love_.
+
+I FEAR that as yet Ernest Maltravers had gained little from Experience,
+except a few current coins of worldly wisdom (and not very valuable
+those!) while he has lost much of that nobler wealth with which youthful
+enthusiasm sets out on the journey of life. Experience is an open giver,
+but a stealthy thief. There is, however, this to be said in her favour,
+that we retain her gifts; and if ever we demand restitution in earnest,
+'tis ten to one but what we recover her thefts. Maltravers had lived in
+lands where public opinion is neither strong in its influence, nor rigid
+in its canons; and that does not make a man better. Moreover, thrown
+headlong amidst the temptations that make the first ordeal of youth,
+with ardent passions and intellectual superiority, he had been led by
+the one into many errors, from the consequences of which the other
+had delivered him; the necessity of roughing it through the world--of
+resisting fraud to-day, and violence to-morrow,--had hardened over the
+surface of his heart, though at bottom the springs were still fresh and
+living. He had lost much of his chivalrous veneration for women, for he
+had seen them less often deceived than deceiving. Again, too, the
+last few years had been spent without any high aims or fixed pursuits.
+Maltravers had been living on the capital of his faculties and
+affections in a wasteful, speculating spirit. It is a bad thing for a
+clever and ardent man not to have from the onset some paramount object
+of life.
+
+All this considered, we can scarcely wonder that Maltravers should have
+fallen into an involuntary system of pursuing his own amusements and
+pursuits, without much forethought of the harm or the good they were to
+do to others or himself. The moment we lose forethought, we lose sight
+of duty; and though it seems like a paradox, we can seldom be careless
+without being selfish.
+
+In seeking the society of Madame de Ventadour, Maltravers obeyed but the
+mechanical impulse that leads the idler towards the companionship which
+most pleases his leisure. He was interested and excited; and Valerie's
+manners, which to-day flattered, and to-morrow piqued him, enlisted
+his vanity and pride on the side of his fancy. But although Monsieur
+de Ventadour, a frivolous and profligate Frenchman, seemed utterly
+indifferent as to what his wife chose to do--and in the society in which
+Valerie lived, almost every lady had her cavalier,--yet Maltravers would
+have started with incredulity or dismay had any one accused him of a
+systematic design on her affections. But he was living with the world,
+and the world affected him as it almost always does every one else.
+Still he had, at times, in his heart, the feeling that he was not
+fulfilling his proper destiny and duties; and when he stole from the
+brilliant resorts of an unworthy and heartless pleasure, he was ever
+and anon haunted by his old familiar aspirations for the Beautiful, the
+Virtuous, and the Great. However, hell is paved with good intentions;
+and so, in the meanwhile, Ernest Maltravers surrendered himself to the
+delicious presence of Valerie de Ventadour.
+
+One evening, Maltravers, Ferrers, the French minister, a pretty Italian,
+and the Princess di ------, made the whole party collected at Madame
+de Ventadour's. The conversation fell upon one of the tales of scandal
+relative to English persons, so common on the Continent.
+
+"Is it true, Monsieur," said the French minister, gravely, to Lumley,
+"that your countrymen are much more immoral than other people? It is
+very strange, but in every town I enter, there is always some story
+in which _les Anglais_ are the heroes. I hear nothing of French
+scandal--nothing of Italian--_toujours les Anglais_."
+
+"Because we are shocked at these things, and make a noise about them,
+while you take them quietly. Vice is our episode--your epic."
+
+"I suppose it is so," said the Frenchman, with affected seriousness. "If
+we cheat at play, or flirt with a fair lady, we do it with decorum,
+and our neighbours think it no business of theirs. But you treat every
+frailty you find in your countrymen as a public concern, to be discussed
+and talked over, and exclaimed against, and told to all the world."
+
+"I like the system of scandal," said Madame de Ventadour, abruptly; "say
+what you will, the policy of fear keeps many of us virtuous. Sin
+might not be odious, if we did not tremble at the consequence even of
+appearances."
+
+"Hein, hein," grunted Monsieur de Ventadour, shuffling into the room.
+"How are you?--how are you? Charmed to see you. Dull night--I suspect
+we shall have rain. Hein, hein. Aha, Monsieur Ferrers, _comment ca
+va-t-il_? Will you give me my revenge at _ecarte_? I have my suspicions
+that I am in luck to-night. Hein, hein."
+
+"_Ecarte_!--well, with pleasure," said Ferrers.
+
+Ferrers played well.
+
+The conversation ended in a moment. The little party gathered round the
+table--all, except Valerie and Maltravers. The chairs that were vacated
+left a kind of breach between them; but still they were next to each
+other, and they felt embarrassed, for they felt alone.
+
+"Do you never play?" asked Madame de Ventadour, after a pause.
+
+"I _have_ played," said Maltravers, "and I know the temptation. I dare
+not play now. I love the excitement, but I have been humbled at the
+debasement: it is a moral drunkenness that is worse than the physical."
+
+"You speak warmly."
+
+"Because I feel keenly. I once won of a man I respected, who was poor.
+His agony was a dreadful lesson to me. I went home, and was terrified to
+think I had felt so much pleasure in the pain of another. I have never
+played since that night."
+
+"So young and so resolute!" said Valerie, with admiration in her voice
+and eyes; "you are a strange person. Others would have been cured by
+losing, you were cured by winning. It is a fine thing to have principle
+at your age, Mr. Maltravers."
+
+"I fear it was rather pride than principle," said Maltravers. "Error is
+sometimes sweet; but there is no anguish like an error of which we feel
+ashamed. I cannot submit to blush for myself."
+
+"Ah!" muttered Valerie; "this is the echo of my own heart!" She rose
+and went to the window. Maltravers paused a moment, and followed her.
+Perhaps he half thought there was an invitation in the movement.
+
+There lay before them the still street, with its feeble and unfrequent
+lights; beyond, a few stars, struggling through an atmosphere unusually
+clouded, brought the murmuring ocean partially into sight. Valerie
+leaned against the wall, and the draperies of the window veiled her from
+all the guests, save Maltravers; and between her and himself was a large
+marble vase filled with flowers; and by that uncertain light Valerie's
+brilliant cheek looked pale, and soft, and thoughtful. Maltravers never
+before felt so much in love with the beautiful Frenchwoman.
+
+"Ah, madam!" said he, softly; "there is one error, if it be so, that
+never can cost me shame."
+
+"Indeed!" said Valerie with an unaffected start, for she was not aware
+he was so near her. As she spoke she began plucking (it is a common
+woman's trick) the flowers from the vase between her and Ernest. That
+small, delicate, almost transparent hand!--Maltravers gazed upon the
+hand, then on the countenance, then on the hand again. The scene swam
+before him, and, involuntarily and as by an irresistible impulse, the
+next moment that hand was in his own.
+
+"Pardon me--pardon me," said he, falteringly; "but that error is in the
+feelings that I know for you."
+
+Valerie lifted on him her large and radiant eyes, and made no answer.
+
+Maltravers went on. "Chide me, scorn me, hate me if you will. Valerie, I
+love you."
+
+Valerie drew away her hand, and still remained silent.
+
+"Speak to me," said Ernest, leaning forward; "one word, I implore
+you--speak to me!"
+
+He paused,--still no reply; he listened breathlessly--he heard her
+sob. Yes; that proud, that wise, that lofty woman of the world, in that
+moment, was as weak as the simplest girl that ever listened to a lover.
+But how different the feelings that made her weak!--what soft and what
+stern emotions were blent together!
+
+"Mr. Maltravers," she said, recovering her voice, though it sounded
+hollow, yet almost unnaturally firm and clear"--the die is cast, and I
+have lost for ever the friend for whose happiness I cannot live, but for
+whose welfare I would have died; I should have foreseen this, but I was
+blind. No more--no more; see me to-morrow, and leave me now!"
+
+"But, Valerie--"
+
+"Ernest Maltravers," said she, laying her hand lightly on his own;
+"_there is no anguish, like an error of which we feel ashamed_!"
+
+Before he could reply to this citation from his own aphorism, Valerie
+had glided away; and was already seated at the card-table, by the side
+of the Italian princess.
+
+Maltravers also joined the group. He fixed his eyes on Madame
+de Ventadour, but her face was calm--not a trace of emotion was
+discernible. Her voice, her smile, her charming and courtly manner, all
+were as when he first beheld her.
+
+"These women--what hypocrites they are!" muttered Maltravers to himself;
+and his lip writhed into a sneer, which had of late often forced away
+the serene and gracious expression of his earlier years, ere he knew
+what it was to despise. But Maltravers mistook the woman he dared to
+scorn.
+
+He soon withdrew from the palazzo, and sought his hotel. There, while
+yet musing in his dressing-room, he was joined by Ferrers. The time had
+passed when Ferrers had exercised an influence over Maltravers; the
+boy had grown up to be the equal of the man, in the exercise of that
+two-edged sword--the reason. And Maltravers now felt, unalloyed, the
+calm consciousness of his superior genius. He could not confide to
+Ferrers what had passed between him and Valerie. Lumley was too _hard_
+for a confidant in matters where the heart was at all concerned. In
+fact, in high spirits, and in the midst of frivolous adventures, Ferrers
+was charming. But in sadness, or in the moments of deep feeling, Ferrers
+was one whom you would wish out of the way.
+
+"You are sullen to-eight, _mon cher_," said Lumley, yawning; "I suppose
+you want to go to bed--some persons are so ill-bred, so selfish, they
+never think of their friends. Nobody asks me what I won at _ecarte_.
+Don't be late to-morrow--I hate breakfasting alone, and I am never later
+than a quarter before nine--I hate egotistical, ill-mannered people.
+Good night."
+
+With this, Ferrers sought his own room; there, as he slowly undressed,
+he thus soliloquised: "I think I have put this man to all the use I can
+make of him. We don't pull well together any longer; perhaps I myself
+am a little tired of this sort of life. That is not right. I shall grow
+ambitious by and by; but I think it a bad calculation not to make the
+most of youth. At four or five-and-thirty it will be time enough to
+consider what one ought to be at fifty."
+
+
+
+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. I know well that delicious, dreaming, holiday-life of
+Italy, so sweet to men of learning and imagination--so sweet, too, to
+youth--so sweet to pleasure! But, Ernest, do you not feel already how it
+enervates?--how the luxurious _far niente_ unfits us for grave exertion?
+Men may become too refined and too fastidious for useful purposes; and
+nowhere can they become so more rapidly than in Italy. My dear Ernest,
+I know you well; you are not made to sink down into a virtuoso, with a
+cabinet full of cameos and a head full of pictures; still less are you
+made to be an indolent _cicisbeo_ to some fair Italian, with one passion
+and two ideas: and yet I have known men as clever as you, whom that
+bewitching Italy has sunk into one or other of these insignificant
+beings. Don't run away with the notion that you have plenty of time
+before you. You have no such thing. At your age, and with your fortune
+(I wish you were not so rich), the holiday of one year becomes the
+custom of the next. In England, to be a useful or a distinguished man,
+you must labour. Now, labour itself is sweet, if we take to it early.
+We are a hard race, but we are a manly one; and our stage is the most
+exciting in Europe for an able and an honest ambition. Perhaps you will
+tell me you are not ambitious now; very possibly--but ambitious you
+will be; and, believe me, there is no unhappier wretch than a man who is
+ambitious but disappointed,--who has the desire for fame, but has lost
+the power to achieve it--who longs for the goal, but will not, and
+cannot, put away his slippers to walk to it. What I most fear for you is
+one of these two evils--an early marriage or a fatal _liaison_ with some
+married woman. The first evil is certainly the least, but for you it
+would still be a great one. With your sensitive romance, with your
+morbid cravings for the ideal, domestic happiness would soon grow trite
+and dull. You would demand new excitement, and become a restless and
+disgusted man. It is necessary for you to get rid of all the false fever
+of life, before you settle down to everlasting ties. You do not yet
+know your own mind; you would choose your partner from some visionary
+caprice, or momentary impulse, and not from the deep and accurate
+knowledge of those qualities which would most harmonize with your own
+character. People, to live happily with each other, must _fit in_, as it
+were--the proud be mated with the meek, the irritable with the gentle,
+and so forth. No, my dear Maltravers, do not think of marriage yet a
+while; and if there is any danger of it, come over to me immediately.
+But if I warn you against a lawful tie, how much more against an illicit
+one? You are precisely at the age, and of the disposition, which render
+the temptation so strong and so deadly. With you it might not be the
+sin of an hour, but the bondage of a life. I know your chivalric
+honour--your tender heart; I know how faithful you would be to one who
+had sacrificed for you. But that fidelity, Maltravers, to what a life
+of wasted talent and energies would it not compel you! Putting aside
+for the moment (for that needs no comment) the question of the grand
+immorality--what so fatal to a bold and proud temper, as to be at war
+with society at the first entrance into life? What so withering to manly
+aims and purposes, as the giving into the keeping of a woman, who has
+interest in your love, and interest against your career which might part
+you at once from her side--the control of your future destinies? I
+could say more, but I trust what I have said is superfluous; if so, pray
+assure me of it. Depend upon this, Ernest Maltravers, that if you do
+not fulfil what nature intended for your fate, you will be a morbid
+misanthrope, or an indolent voluptuary--wrenched and listless in
+manhood, repining and joyless in old age. But if you do fulfil your
+fate, you must enter soon into your apprenticeship. Let me see you
+labour and aspire--no matter what in--what to. Work, work--that is all I
+ask of you!
+
+"I wish you would see your old country-house; it has a venerable and
+picturesque look, and during your minority they have let the ivy cover
+three sides of it. Montaigne might have lived there.
+
+   "Adieu, dearest Ernest,
+     "Your anxious and affectionate guardian,
+        "FREDERICK CLEVELAND.
+
+"P. S.--I am writing a book--it shall last me ten years--it occupies me,
+but does not fatigue. Write a book yourself."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Maltravers had just finished this letter when Ferrers entered
+impatiently. "Will you ride out?" said he. "I have sent the breakfast
+away; I saw that breakfast was a vain hope to-day--indeed, my appetite
+is gone."
+
+"Pshaw!" said Maltravers.
+
+"Pshaw! Humph! for my part I like well-bred people."
+
+"I have had a letter from Cleveland."
+
+"And what the deuce has that got to do with the chocolate?"
+
+"Oh, Lumley, you are insufferable; you think of nothing but yourself,
+and self with you means nothing that is not animal."
+
+"Why, yes; I believe I have some sense," replied Ferrers, complacently.
+"I know the philosophy of life. All unfledged bipeds are animals, I
+suppose. If Providence had made me graminivorous, I should have eaten
+grass; if ruminating, I should have chewed the cud; but as it has made
+me a carnivorous, culinary, and cachinnatory animal, I eat a cutlet,
+scold about the sauce, and laugh at you; and this is what you call being
+selfish!"
+
+It was late at noon when Maltravers found himself at the palazzo of
+Madame de Ventadour. He was surprised, but agreeably so, that he was
+admitted, for the first time, into that private sanctum which bears
+the hackneyed title of boudoir. But there was little enough of the fine
+lady's boudoir in the simple morning-room of Madame de Ventadour. It was
+a lofty apartment, stored with books, and furnished, not without claim
+to grace, but with very small attention to luxury.
+
+Valerie was not there, and Maltravers, left alone, after a hasty glance
+around the chamber, leaned abstractedly against the wall, and forgot,
+alas! all the admonitions of Cleveland. In a few moments the door
+opened, and Valerie entered. She was unusually pale, and Maltravers
+thought her eyelids betrayed the traces of tears. He was touched, and
+his heart smote him.
+
+"I have kept you waiting, I fear," said Valerie, motioning him to a seat
+at a little distance from that on which she placed herself; "but you
+will forgive me," she added, with a slight smile. Then, observing he was
+about to speak, she went on rapidly; "Hear me, Mr. Maltravers--before
+you speak, hear me! You uttered words last night that ought never to
+have been addressed to me. You professed to--love me."
+
+"Professed!"
+
+"Answer me," said Valerie, with abrupt energy, "not as man to woman, but
+as one human creature to another. From the bottom of your heart, from
+the core of your conscience, I call on you to speak the honest and the
+simple truth. Do you love me as your heart, your genius, must be capable
+of loving?"
+
+"I love you truly--passionately!" said Maltravers, surprised and
+confused, but still with enthusiasm in his musical voice and earnest
+eyes. Valerie gazed upon him as if she sought to penetrate into his
+soul. Maltravers went on. "Yes, Valerie, when we first met, you aroused
+a long dormant and delicious sentiment. But, since then, what deep
+emotions has that sentiment called forth? Your graceful intellect--your
+lovely thoughts, wise yet womanly--have completed the conquest your face
+and voice began. Valerie, I love you. And you--you, Valerie--ah! I do
+not deceive myself--you also--"
+
+"Love!" interrupted Valerie, deeply blushing, but in a calm voice.
+"Ernest Maltravers, I do not deny it; honestly and frankly I confess the
+fault. I have examined my heart during the whole of the last sleepless
+night, and I confess that I love you. Now, then, understand me--we meet
+no more."
+
+"What!" said Maltravers, falling involuntarily at her feet, and seeking
+to detain her hand, which he seized. "What! now, when you have given
+life a new charm, will you as suddenly blast it? No, Valerie; no, I will
+not listen to you."
+
+Madame de Ventadour rose and said, with a cold dignity: "Hear me calmly,
+or I quit the room; and all I would now say rests for ever unspoken."
+
+Maltravers rose also, folded his arms haughtily, bit his lips, and stood
+erect, and confronting Valerie rather in the attitude of an accuser than
+a suppliant.
+
+"Madame," said he, gravely, "I will offend no more; I will trust to your
+manner, since I may not believe your words."
+
+"You are cruel," said Valerie, smiling mournfully; "but so are all
+men. Now let me make myself understood. I was betrothed to Monsieur
+de Ventadour in my childhood. I did not see him till a month before we
+married. I had no choice. French girls have none. We were wed. I had
+formed no other attachment. I was proud and vain: wealth, ambition, and
+social rank for a time satisfied my faculties and my heart. At length
+I grew restless and unhappy. I felt that something of life was wanting.
+Monsieur de Ventadour's sister was the first to recommend me to the
+common resource of our sex--at least, in France--a lover. I was shocked
+and startled, for I belong to a family in which women are chaste and men
+brave. I began, however, to look around me, and examine the truth of the
+philosophy of vice. I found that no woman, who loved honestly and deeply
+an illicit lover was happy. I found, too, the hideous profundity of
+Rochefoucauld's maxim that a woman--I speak of French women--may live
+without a lover; but, a lover once admitted, she never goes through
+life with only one. She is deserted; she cannot bear the anguish and the
+solitude; she fills up the void with a second idol. For her there is no
+longer a fall from virtue: it is a gliding and involuntary descent
+from sin to sin, till old age comes on and leaves her without love and
+without respect. I reasoned calmly, for my passions did not blind my
+reason. I could not love the egotists around me. I resolved upon my
+career; and now, in temptation, I will adhere to it. Virtue is my lover,
+my pride, my comfort, my life of life. Do you love me, and will you rob
+me of this treasure? I saw you, and for the first time I felt a vague
+and intoxicating interest in another; but I did not dream of danger. As
+our acquaintance advanced I formed to myself a romantic and delightful
+vision. I would be your firmest, your truest friend; your confidant,
+your adviser--perhaps, in some epochs of life, your inspiration and your
+guide. I repeat that I foresaw no danger in your society. I felt myself
+a nobler and a better being. I felt more benevolent, more tolerant, more
+exalted. I saw life through the medium of purifying admiration for a
+gifted nature, and a profound and generous soul. I fancied we might be
+ever thus--each to each;--one strengthened, assured, supported by the
+other. Nay, I even contemplated with pleasure the prospect of your
+future marriage with another--of loving your wife--of contributing with
+her to your happiness--my imagination made me forget that we are made
+of clay. Suddenly all these visions were dispelled--the fairy palace was
+overthrown, and I found myself awake, and on the brink of the abyss--you
+loved me, and in the moment of that fatal confession, the mask dropped
+from my soul, and I felt that you had become too dear to me. Be
+silent still, I implore you. I do not tell you of the emotions, of the
+struggles, through which I have passed the last few hours--the crisis of
+a life. I tell you only of the resolution I formed. I thought it due
+to you, nor unworthy to myself, to speak the truth. Perhaps it might be
+more womanly to conceal it; but my heart has something masculine in
+its nature. I have a great faith in your nobleness. I believe you can
+sympathise with whatever is best in human weakness. I tell you that I
+love you--I throw myself upon your generosity. I beseech you to assist
+my own sense of right--to think well of me, to honour me--and to leave
+me!"
+
+During the last part of this strange and frank avowal, Valerie's voice
+had grown inexpressibly touching: her tenderness forced itself into her
+manner; and when she ceased, her lip quivered; her tears, repressed by
+a violent effort, trembled in her eyes--her hands were clasped--her
+attitude was that of humility, not pride.
+
+Maltravers stood perfectly spell-bound. At length he advanced; dropped
+on one knee, kissed her hand with an aspect and air of reverential
+homage, and turned to quit the room in silence; for he would not dare to
+trust himself to speak.
+
+Valerie gazed at him in anxious alarm. "O no, no!" she exclaimed, "do
+not leave me yet; this is our last meeting our last. Tell me, at least,
+that you understand me; that you see, if I am no weak fool, I am also
+no heartless coquette; tell me that you see I am not as hard as I have
+seemed; that I have not knowingly trifled with your happiness; that
+even now I am not selfish. Your love,--I ask it no more! But your
+esteem--your good opinion. Oh, speak--speak, I implore you!"
+
+"Valerie," said Maltravers, "if I was silent, it was because my heart
+was too full for words. You have raised all womanhood in my eyes. I did
+love you--I now venerate and adore. Your noble frankness, so unlike the
+irresolute frailty, the miserable wiles of your sex, has touched a chord
+in my heart that has been mute for years. I leave you to think better
+of human nature. Oh!" he continued, "hasten to forget all of me that can
+cost you a pang. Let me still, in absence and in sadness, think that I
+retain in your friendship--let it be friendship only--the inspiration,
+the guide of which you spoke; and if, hereafter, men shall name me with
+praise and honour, feel, Valerie, feel that I have comforted myself
+for the loss of your love by becoming worthy of your confidence--your
+esteem. Oh, that we had met earlier, when no barrier was between us!"
+
+"Go, go, _now_," faltered Valerie, almost choked with her emotions; "may
+Heaven bless you! Go!"
+
+Maltravers muttered a few inaudible and incoherent words, and quitted
+the apartment.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+ "The men of sense, those idols of the shallow, are very inferior
+  to the men of Passions. It is the strong passions which, rescuing
+  us from sloth, can alone impart to us that continuous and earnest
+  attention necessary to great intellectual efforts."--HELVETIUS.
+
+WHEN Ferrers returned that day from his customary ride, he was surprised
+to see the lobbies and hall of the apartment which he occupied in common
+with Maltravers, littered with bags and _malles_, boxes and books,
+and Ernest's Swiss valet directing porters and waiters in a mosaic of
+French, English, and Italian.
+
+"Well!" said Lumley, "and what is all this?"
+
+"Il signore va partir, sare, ah! mon Dieu!--_tout_ of a sudden."
+
+"O-h! and where is he now!"
+
+"In his room, sare."
+
+Over the chaos strode Ferrers, and opening the door of his friend's
+dressing-room without ceremony, he saw Maltravers buried in a fauteuil,
+with his hands drooping on his knees, his head bent over his breast, and
+his whole attitude expressive of dejection and exhaustion.
+
+"What is the matter, my dear Ernest? You have not killed a man in a
+duel?"
+
+"No."
+
+"What then? Why are you going away, and whither?"
+
+"No matter; leave me in peace."
+
+"Friendly!" said Ferrers; "very friendly! And what is to become of
+me--what companion am I to have in this cursed resort of antiquarians
+and lazzaroni? You have no feeling, Mr. Maltravers!"
+
+"Will you come with me, then?" said Maltravers, in vain endeavouring to
+rouse himself.
+
+"But where are you going?"
+
+"Anywhere; to Paris--to London."
+
+"No; I have arranged my plans for the summer. I am not so rich as some
+people. I hate change: it is so expensive."
+
+"But, my dear fellow--"
+
+"Is this fair dealing with me?" continued Lumley, who, for once in his
+life, was really angry. "If I were an old coat you had worn for five
+years you could not throw me off with more nonchalance."
+
+"Ferrers, forgive me. My honour is concerned. I must leave this place. I
+trust you will remain my guest here, though in the absence of your host.
+You know that I have engaged the apartment for the next three months."
+
+"Humph!" said Ferrers, "as that is the case I may as well stay here.
+But why so secret? Have you seduced Madame de Ventadour, or has her wise
+husband his suspicions? Hein, hein!"
+
+Maltravers smothered his disgust at this coarseness; and, perhaps, there
+is no greater trial of temper than in a friend's gross remarks upon the
+connection of the heart.
+
+"Ferrers," said he, "if you care for me, breathe not a word
+disrespectful to Madame de Ventadour: she is an angel!"
+
+"But why leave Naples?"
+
+"Trouble me no more."
+
+"Good day, sir," said Ferrers, highly offended, and he stalked out of
+the chamber; nor did Ernest see him again before his departure.
+
+It was late that evening when Maltravers found himself alone in his
+carriage, pursuing by starlight the ancient and melancholy road to Mola
+di Gaeta.
+
+His solitude was a luxury to Maltravers; he felt an inexpressible sense
+of relief to be freed from Ferrers. The hard sense, the unpliant, though
+humorous imperiousness, the animal sensuality of his companion would
+have been torture to him in his present state of mind.
+
+The next morning, when he rose, the orange blossoms of Mola di Gaeta
+were sweet beneath the window of the inn where he rested. It was now the
+early spring, and the freshness of the odour, the breathing health of
+earth and air, it is impossible to describe. Italy itself boasts few
+spots more lovely than that same Mola di Gaeta--nor does that halcyon
+sea wear, even at Naples or Sorrento, a more bland and enchanting smile.
+
+So, after a hasty and scarcely-tasted breakfast, Maltravers strolled
+through the orange groves, and gained the beach; and there, stretched at
+idle length by the murmuring waves, he resigned himself to thought,
+and endeavoured, for the first time since his parting with Valerie, to
+collect and examine the state of his mind and feelings. Maltravers, to
+his own surprise, did not find himself so unhappy as he had expected. On
+the contrary, a soft and almost delicious sentiment, which he could not
+well define, floated over all his memories of the beautiful Frenchwoman.
+Perhaps the secret was, that while his pride was not mortified, his
+conscience was not galled--perhaps, also, he had not loved Valerie so
+deeply as he had imagined. The confession and the separation had happily
+come before her presence had grown--_the want of a life_. As it was,
+he felt as if, by some holy and mystic sacrifice, he had been made
+reconciled to himself and mankind. He woke to a juster and higher
+appreciation of human nature, and of woman's nature in especial. He
+had found honesty and truth where he might least have expected it--in
+a woman of a court--in a woman surrounded by vicious and frivolous
+circles--in a woman who had nothing in the opinion of her friends, her
+country, her own husband, the social system in which she moved, to keep
+her from the concessions of frailty--in a woman of the world--a woman of
+Paris!--yes, it was his very disappointment that drove away the fogs and
+vapours that, arising from the marshes of the great world, had gradually
+settled round his soul. Valerie de Ventadour had taught him not to
+despise her sex, not to judge by appearances, not to sicken of a low and
+a hypocritical world. He looked in his heart for the love of Valerie,
+and he found there the love of virtue. Thus, as he turned his eyes
+inward, did he gradually awaken to a sense of the true impressions
+engraved there. And he felt the bitterest drop of the fountains was not
+sorrow for himself, but for her. What pangs must that high spirit have
+endured ere it could have submitted to the avowal it had made! Yet, even
+in this affliction he found at last a solace. A mind so strong could
+support and heal the weakness of the heart. He felt that Valerie de
+Ventadour was not a woman to pine away in the unresisted indulgence of
+morbid and unholy emotions. He could not flatter himself that she would
+not seek to eradicate a love she repented; and he sighed with a natural
+selfishness, when he owned also that sooner or later she would succeed.
+"But be it so," said he, half aloud--"I will prepare my heart to rejoice
+when I learn that she remembers me only as a friend. Next to the bliss
+of her love is the pride of her esteem."
+
+Such was the sentiment with which his reveries closed--and with
+every league that bore him further from the south, the sentiment grew
+strengthened and confirmed.
+
+Ernest Maltravers felt there is in the affections themselves so much
+to purify and exalt, that even an erring love, conceived without a cold
+design, and (when its nature is fairly understood) wrestled against with
+a noble spirit, leaves the heart more tolerant and tender, and the mind
+more settled and enlarged. The philosophy limited to the reason puts
+into motion the automata of the closet--but to those who have the world
+for a stage, and who find their hearts are the great actors, experience
+and wisdom must be wrought from the Philosophy of the Passions.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK III.
+
+ "Not to all men Apollo shows himself--
+  Who sees him--_he_ is great!"
+   CALLIM. _Ex Hymno in Apollinon_.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ "Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
+  Creep in our ears--soft stillness and the night
+  Become the touches of sweet harmony."
+   SHAKESPEARE.
+
+
+BOAT SONG ON THE LAKE OF COMO.
+
+     I.
+
+     The Beautiful Clime!--the Clime of Love!
+      Thou beautiful Italy!
+     Like a mother's eyes, the earnest skies
+      Ever have smiles for thee!
+     Not a flower that blows, not a beam that glows,
+      But what is in love with thee!
+
+     II.
+
+     The beautiful lake, the Larian lake!*
+      Soft lake like a silver sea,
+     The Huntress Queen, with her nymphs of sheen,
+      Never had bath like thee.
+     See, the Lady of night and her maids of light,
+      Even now are mid-deep in thee!
+
+     * The ancient name of Como.
+
+     III.
+
+     Beautiful child of the lonely hills,
+      Ever blest may thy slumbers be!
+     No mourner should tread by thy dreamy bed,
+      No life bring a care to thee--
+     Nay, soft to thy bed, let the mourner tread--
+      And life be a dream like thee!
+
+
+Such, though uttered in the soft Italian tongue, and now imperfectly
+translated--such were the notes that floated one lovely evening in
+summer along the lake of Como. The boat, from which came the song,
+drifted gently down the sparkling waters, towards the mossy banks of a
+lawn, whence on a little eminence gleamed the white walls of a villa,
+backed by vineyards. On that lawn stood a young and handsome woman,
+leaning on the arm of her husband, and listening to the song. But her
+delight was soon deepened into one of more personal interest, as the
+boatmen, nearing the banks, changed their measure, and she felt that the
+minstrelsy was in honour of herself.
+
+
+SERENADE TO THE SONGSTRESS.
+
+    I.
+
+    CHORUS.
+
+    Softly--oh, soft! let us rest on the oar,
+    And vex not a billow that sighs to the shore:--
+    For sacred the spot where the starry waves meet
+    With the beach, where the breath of the citron is sweet.
+    There's a spell on the waves that now waft us along
+    To the last of our Muses, the Spirit of Song.
+
+    RECITATIVE.
+
+      The Eagle of old renown,
+      And the Lombard's iron crown
+    And Milan's mighty name are ours no more;
+      But by this glassy water,
+      Harmonia's youngest daughter,
+    Still from the lightning saves one laurel to our shore.
+
+    II.
+
+    CHORUS.
+
+    They heard thee, Teresa, the Teuton, the Gaul,
+    Who have raised the rude thrones of the North on our fall;
+    They heard thee, and bow'd to the might of thy song;
+    Like love went thy steps o'er the hearts of the strong;
+    As the moon to the air, as the soul to the clay,
+    To the void of this earth was the breath of thy lay.
+
+    RECITATIVE.
+
+      Honour for aye to her
+      The bright interpreter
+    Of Art's great mysteries to the enchanted throng;
+      While tyrants heard thy strains,
+      Sad Rome forgot her chains;
+    The world the sword had lost was conquer'd back by song!
+
+
+"Thou repentest, my Teresa, that thou hast renounced thy dazzling career
+for a dull home, and a husband old enough to be thy father," said the
+husband to the wife, with a smile that spoke confidence in the answer.
+
+"Ah, no! even this homage would have no music to me if thou didst not
+hear it."
+
+She was a celebrated personage in Italy--the Signora Cesarini, now
+Madame de Montaigne. Her earlier youth had been spent upon the stage,
+and her promise of vocal excellence had been most brilliant. But after
+a brief though splendid career, she married a French gentleman of
+good birth and fortune, retired from the stage, and spent her life
+alternately in the gay saloons of Paris and upon the banks of the dreamy
+Como, on which her husband had purchased a small but beautiful villa.
+She still, however, exercised in private her fascinating art; to
+which--for she was a woman of singular accomplishment and talent--she
+added the gift of the improvvisatrice. She had just returned for the
+summer to this lovely retreat, and a party of enthusiastic youths
+from Milan had sought the lake of Como to welcome her arrival with the
+suitable homage of song and music. It is a charming relic, that custom
+of the brighter days of Italy; and I myself have listened, on the still
+waters of the same lake, to a similar greeting to a greater genius--the
+queenlike and unrivalled Pasta--the Semiramis of Song! And while my boat
+paused, and I caught something of the enthusiasm of the serenaders, the
+boatman touched me, and, pointing to a part of the lake on which the
+setting sun shed its rosiest smile, he said, "There, Signor, was drowned
+one of your countrymen 'bellissimo uomo! che fu bello!'"--yes, there,
+in the pride of his promising youth, of his noble and almost godlike
+beauty, before the very windows--the very eyes--of his bride--the waves
+without a frown had swept over the idol of many hearts--the graceful and
+gallant Locke.* And above his grave was the voluptuous sky, and over
+it floated the triumphant music. It was as the moral of the Roman
+poets--calling the living to a holiday over the oblivion of the dead.
+
+* Captain William Locke of the Life Guards (the only son of the
+accomplished Mr. Locke of Norbury Park), distinguished by a character
+the most amiable, and by a personal beauty that certainly equalled,
+perhaps surpassed, the highest masterpiece of Grecian sculpture. He was
+returning in a boat from the town of Como to his villa on the banks
+of the lake, when the boat was upset by one of the mysterious
+under-currents to which the lake is dangerously subjected; and he was
+drowned in sight of his bride, who was watching his return from the
+terrace or balcony of their home.
+
+As the boat now touched the bank, Madame de Montaigne accosted the
+musicians, thanked them with a sweet and unaffected earnestness for the
+compliment so delicately offered, and invited them ashore. The Milanese,
+who were six in number, accepted the invitation, and moored their boat
+to the jutting shore. It was then that Monsieur de Montaigne pointed out
+to the notice of his wife a boat, that had lingered under the shadow
+of a bank, tenanted by a young man, who had seemed to listen with rapt
+attention to the music, and who had once joined in the chorus (as it was
+twice repeated), with a voice so exquisitely attuned, and so rich in its
+deep power, that it had awakened the admiration even of the serenaders
+themselves.
+
+"Does not that gentleman belong to your party?" De Montaigne asked of
+the Milanese.
+
+"No, Signor, we know him not," was the answer; "his boat came unawares
+upon us as we were singing."
+
+While this question and answer were going on, the young man had quitted
+his station, and his oars cut the glassy surface of the lake, just
+before the place where De Montaigne stood. With the courtesy of his
+country, the Frenchman lifted his hat; and, by his gesture, arrested the
+eye and oar of the solitary rower. "Will you honour us," he said, "by
+joining our little party?"
+
+"It is a pleasure I covet too much to refuse," replied the boatman, with
+a slight foreign accent, and in another moment he was on shore. He was
+one of remarkable appearance. His long hair floated with a careless
+grace over a brow more calm and thoughtful than became his years; his
+manner was unusually quiet and self-collected, and not without a certain
+stateliness, rendered more striking by the height of his stature,
+a lordly contour of feature, and a serene but settled expression of
+melancholy in his eyes and smile. "You will easily believe," said he,
+"that, cold as my countrymen are esteemed (for you must have discovered
+already that I am an Englishman), I could not but share in the
+enthusiasm of those about me, when loitering near the very ground sacred
+to the inspiration. For the rest, I am residing for the present in
+yonder villa, opposite to your own; my name is Maltravers, and I am
+enchanted to think that I am no longer a personal stranger to one whose
+fame has already reached me." Madame de Montaigne was flattered by
+something in the manner and tone of the Englishman, which said a great
+deal more than his words; and in a few minutes, beneath the influence of
+the happy continental ease, the whole party seemed as if they had
+known each other for years. Wines, and fruits, and other simple and
+unpretending refreshments, were brought out and ranged on a rude table
+upon the grass, round which the guests seated themselves with their
+host and hostess, and the clear moon shone over them, and the lake slept
+below in silver. It was a scene for a Boccaccio or a Claude.
+
+The conversation naturally fell upon music; it is almost the only thing
+which Italians in general can be said to know--and even that knowledge
+comes to them, like Dogberry's reading and writing, by nature--for of
+music, as an _art_, the unprofessional amateurs know but little. As vain
+and arrogant of the last wreck of their national genius as the Romans
+of old were of the empire of all arts and arms, they look upon the
+harmonies of other lands as barbarous; nor can they appreciate or
+understand appreciation of the mighty German music, which is the proper
+minstrelsy of a nation of men--a music of philosophy, of heroism, of the
+intellect and the imagination; beside which, the strains of modern Italy
+are indeed effeminate, fantastic, and artificially feeble. Rossini is
+the Canova of music, with much of the pretty, with nothing of the grand!
+
+The little party talked, however, of music, with an animation and gusto
+that charmed the melancholy Maltravers, who for weeks had known no
+companion save his own thoughts, and with whom, at all times, enthusiasm
+for any art found a ready sympathy. He listened attentively, but said
+little; and from time to time, whenever the conversation flagged,
+amused himself by examining his companions. The six Milanese had nothing
+remarkable in their countenances or in their talk; they possessed the
+characteristic energy and volubility of their countrymen, with something
+of the masculine dignity which distinguishes the Lombard from the
+Southern, and a little of the French polish, which the inhabitants of
+Milan seldom fail to contract. Their rank was evidently that of the
+middle class; for Milan has a middle class, and one which promises great
+results hereafter. But they were noways distinguished from a thousand
+other Milanese whom Maltravers had met with in the walks and cafes of
+their noble city. The host was somewhat more interesting. He was a
+tall, handsome man, of about eight-and-forty, with a high forehead, and
+features strongly impressed with the sober character of thought. He had
+but little of the French vivacity in his manner; and without looking at
+his countenance, you would still have felt insensibly that he was the
+eldest of the party. His wife was at least twenty years younger than
+himself, mirthful and playful as a child, but with a certain feminine
+and fascinating softness in her unrestrained gestures and sparkling
+gaiety, which seemed to subdue her natural joyousness into the form and
+method of conventional elegance. Dark hair carelessly arranged, an open
+forehead, large black laughing eyes, a small straight nose, a complexion
+just relieved from the olive by an evanescent, yet perpetually recurring
+blush; a round dimpled cheek, an exquisitely-shaped mouth with small
+pearly teeth, and a light and delicate figure a little below the
+ordinary standard, completed the picture of Madame de Montaigne.
+
+"Well," said Signor Tirabaloschi, the most loquacious and sentimental of
+the guests, filling his glass, "these are hours to think of for the rest
+of life. But we cannot hope the Signora will long remember what we never
+can forget. Paris, says the French proverb, _est le paradis des femmes_:
+and in Paradise, I take it for granted, we recollect very little of what
+happened on earth."
+
+"Oh," said Madame de Montaigne, with a pretty musical laugh, "in Paris
+it is the rage to despise the frivolous life of cities, and to affect
+_des sentimens romanesques_. This is precisely the scene which our fine
+ladies and fine writers would die to talk of and to describe. Is it not
+so, _mon ami_?" and she turned affectionately to De Montaigne.
+
+"True," replied he; "but you are not worthy of such a scene--you laugh
+at sentiment and romance."
+
+"Only at French sentiment and the romance of the Chaussee d'Antin. You
+English," she continued, shaking her head at Maltravers, "have spoiled
+and corrupted us; we are not content to imitate you, we must excel you;
+we out-horror horror, and rush from the extravagant into the frantic!"
+
+"The ferment of the new school is, perhaps, better than the stagnation
+of the old," said Maltravers. "Yet even you," addressing himself to
+the Italians, "who first in Petrarch, in Tasso, and in Ariosto, set to
+Europe the example of the Sentimental and the Romantic; who built among
+the very ruins of the classic school, amidst its Corinthian columns and
+sweeping arches, the spires and battlements of the Gothic--even you are
+deserting your old models and guiding literature into newer and wilder
+paths. 'Tis the way of the world--eternal progress is eternal change."
+
+"Very possibly," said Signor Tirabaloschi, who understood nothing of
+what was said. "Nay, it is extremely profound; on reflection, it is
+beautiful--superb! you English are so--so--in short, it is admirable.
+Ugo Foscolo is a great genius--so is Monti; and as for Rossini,--you
+know his last opera--_cosa stupenda_!"
+
+Madame de Montaigne glanced at Maltravers, clapped her little hands, and
+laughed outright. Maltravers caught the contagion, and laughed also.
+But he hastened to repair the pedantic error he had committed of talking
+over the heads of the company. He took up the guitar, which, among their
+musical instruments, the serenaders had brought, and after touching its
+chords for a few moments, said: "After all, Madame, in your society,
+and with this moonlit lake before us, we feel as if music were our best
+medium of conversation. Let us prevail upon these gentlemen to delight
+us once more."
+
+"You forestall what I was going to ask," said the ex-singer; and
+Maltravers offered the guitar to Tirabaloschi, who was in fact dying to
+exhibit his powers again. He took the instrument with a slight grimace
+of modesty, and then saying to Madame de Montaigne, "There is a song
+composed by a young friend of mine, which is much admired by the ladies;
+though to me it seems a little too sentimental," sang the following
+stanzas (as good singers are wont to do) with as much feeling as if he
+could understand them!
+
+
+NIGHT AND LOVE.
+
+When stars are in the quiet skies,  Then most I pine for thee;
+Bend on me, then, thy tender eyes!  As stars look on the sea!
+
+For thoughts, like waves that glide by night,  Are stillest where they shine;
+Mine earthly love lies hushed in light  Beneath the heaven of thine.
+
+There is an hour when angels keep  Familiar watch on men;
+When coarser souls are wrapt in sleep,--  Sweet spirit, meet me then.
+
+There is an hour when holy dreams  Through slumber fairest glide;
+And in that mystic hour it seems  Thou shouldst be by my side.
+
+     The thoughts of thee too sacred are
+       For daylight's common beam;--
+     I can but know thee as my star,
+       My angel, and my dream!
+
+
+And now, the example set, and the praises of the fair hostess exciting
+general emulation, the guitar circled from hand to hand, and each of the
+Italians performed his part; you might have fancied yourself at one
+of the old Greek feasts, with the lyre and the myrtle-branch going the
+round.
+
+But both the Italians and the Englishman felt the entertainment would be
+incomplete without hearing the celebrated vocalist and improvvisatrice
+who presided over the little banquet; and Madame de Montaigne, with a
+woman's tact, divined the general wish, and anticipated the request
+that was sure to be made. She took the guitar from the last singer, and
+turning to Maltravers, said, "You have heard, of course, some of our
+more eminent improvvisatori, and therefore if I ask you for a subject it
+will only be to prove to you that the talent is not general amongst the
+Italians."
+
+"Ah," said Maltravers, "I have heard, indeed, some ugly old gentlemen
+with immense whiskers, and gestures of the most alarming ferocity, pour
+out their vehement impromptus; but I have never yet listened to a young
+and a handsome lady. I shall only believe the inspiration when I hear it
+direct from the Muse."
+
+"Well, I will do my best to deserve your compliments--you must give me
+the theme."
+
+Maltravers paused a moment, and suggested the Influence of Praise on
+Genius.
+
+The improvvisatrice nodded assent, and after a short prelude broke forth
+into a wild and varied strain of verse, in a voice so exquisitely sweet,
+with a taste so accurate, and a feeling so deep that the poetry sounded
+to the enchanted listeners like the language that Armida might have
+uttered. Yet the verses themselves, like all extemporaneous effusions,
+were of a nature both to pass from the memory and to defy transcription.
+
+When Madame de Montaigne's song ceased, no rapturous plaudits
+followed--the Italians were too affected by the science, Maltravers by
+the feeling, for the coarseness of ready praise;--and ere that delighted
+silence which made the first impulse was broken, a new comer, descending
+from the groves that clothed the ascent behind the house, was in the
+midst of the party.
+
+"Ah, my dear brother," cried Madame Montaigne, starting up, and banging
+fondly on the arm of the stranger, "why have you lingered so long in the
+wood? You, so delicate! And how are you? How pale you seem!"
+
+"It is but the reflection of the moonlight, Teresa," said the intruder;
+"I feel well." So saying, he scowled on the merry party, and turned as
+if to slink away.
+
+"No, no," whispered Teresa, "you must stay a moment and be presented
+to my guests: there is an Englishman here whom you will like--who will
+_interest_ you."
+
+With that she almost dragged him forward, and introduced him to her
+guests. Signor Cesarini returned their salutations with a mixture of
+bashfulness and _hauteur_, half-awkward and half-graceful, and muttering
+some inaudible greeting, sank into a seat and appeared instantly lost
+in reverie. Maltravers gazed upon him, and was pleased with his
+aspect--which, if not handsome, was strange and peculiar. He was
+extremely slight and thin--his cheeks hollow and colourless, with
+a profusion of black silken ringlets that almost descended to his
+shoulders. His eyes, deeply sunk into his head, were large and intensely
+brilliant; and a thin moustache, curling downwards, gave an additional
+austerity to his mouth, which was closed with gloomy and half-sarcastic
+firmness. He was not dressed as people dress in general, but wore a
+frock of dark camlet, with a large shirt-collar turned down, and a
+narrow slip of black silk twisted rather than tied round his throat; his
+nether garments fitted tight to his limbs, and a pair of half-hessians
+completed his costume. It was evident that the young man (and he was
+very young--perhaps about nineteen or twenty) indulged that coxcombry of
+the Picturesque which is the sign of a vainer mind than is the commoner
+coxcombry of the _Mode_.
+
+It is astonishing how frequently it happens, that the introduction of
+a single intruder upon a social party is sufficient to destroy all the
+familiar harmony that existed there before. We see it even when the
+intruder is agreeable and communicative--but in the present instance, a
+ghost could scarcely have been a more unwelcoming or unwelcome visitor.
+The presence of this shy, speechless, supercilious-looking man threw a
+damp over the whole group. The gay Tirabaloschi immediately discovered
+that it was time to depart--it had not struck any one before, but it
+certainly _was_ late. The Italians began to bustle about, to collect
+their music, to make fine speeches and fine professions--to bow and to
+smile--to scramble into their boat, and to push towards the inn at Como,
+where they had engaged their quarters for the night. As the boat glided
+away, and while two of them were employed at the oar, the remaining
+four took up their instruments and sang a parting glee. It was quite
+midnight--the hush of all things around had grown more intense and
+profound--there was a wonderful might of silence in the shining air and
+amidst the shadows thrown by the near banks and the distant hills over
+the water. So that as the music chiming in with the oars grew fainter
+and fainter, it is impossible to describe the thrilling and magical
+effect it produced.
+
+The party ashore did not speak; there was a moisture, a grateful one,
+in the bright eyes of Teresa, as she leant upon the manly form of De
+Montaigne, for whom her attachment was, perhaps, yet more deep and
+pure for the difference of their ages. A girl who once loves a man, not
+indeed old, but much older than herself, loves him with such a _looking
+up_ and venerating love! Maltravers stood a little apart from the
+couple, on the edge of the shelving bank, with folded arms and
+thoughtful countenance. "How is it," said he, unconscious that he was
+speaking half aloud, "that the commonest beings of the world should be
+able to give us a pleasure so unworldly? What a contrast between those
+musicians and this music. At this distance their forms are dimly seen,
+one might almost fancy the creators of those sweet sounds to be of
+another mould from us. Perhaps even thus the poetry of the Past rings
+on our ears--the deeper and the diviner, because removed from the clay
+which made the poets. O Art, Art! how dost thou beautify and exalt us;
+what is nature without thee!"
+
+"You are a poet, Signor," said a soft clear voice beside the
+soliloquist; and Maltravers started to find that he had had unknowingly
+a listener in the young Cesarini.
+
+"No," said Maltravers; "I cull the flowers, I do not cultivate the
+soil."
+
+"And why not?" said Cesarini, with abrupt energy; "you are an
+Englishman--_you_ have a public--you have a country--you have a living
+stage, a breathing audience; we, Italians, have nothing but the dead."
+
+As he looked on the young man, Maltravers was surprised to see the
+sudden animation which glowed upon his pale features.
+
+"You asked me a question I would fain put to you," said the Englishman,
+after a pause. "_You_, methinks, are a poet?"
+
+"I have fancied that I might be one. But poetry with us is a bird in the
+wilderness--it sings from an impulse--the song dies without a listener.
+Oh that I belonged to a _living_ country,--France, England, Germany,
+Arnerica,--and not to the corruption of a dead giantess--for such is now
+the land of the ancient lyre."
+
+"Let us meet again, and soon," said Maltravers, holding out his hand.
+
+Cesarini hesitated a moment, and then accepted and returned the
+proffered salutation. Reserved as he was, something in Maltravers
+attracted him; and, indeed, there was that in Ernest which fascinated
+most of those unhappy eccentrics who do not move in the common orbit of
+the world.
+
+In a few moments more the Englishman had said farewell to the owner of
+the villa, and his light boat skimmed rapidly over the tide.
+
+"What do you think of the _Inglese_?" said Madame de Montaigne to her
+husband, as they turned towards the house. (They said not a word about
+the Milanese.)
+
+"He has a noble bearing for one so young," said the Frenchman; "and
+seems to have seen the world, and both to have profited and to have
+suffered by it."
+
+"He will prove an acquisition to our society here," returned Teresa; "he
+interests me; and you, Castruccio?" turning to seek for her brother; but
+Cesarini had already, with his usual noiseless step, disappeared within
+the house.
+
+"Alas, my poor brother!" she said, "I cannot comprehend him. What does
+he desire?"
+
+"Fame!" replied De Montaigne, calmly. "It is a vain shadow; no wonder
+that he disquiets himself in vain."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+ "Alas! what boots it with incessant care
+  To strictly meditate the thankless Muse;
+  Were I not better done as others use,
+  To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,
+  Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair?"
+   MILTON'S _Lycidas_.
+
+THERE is nothing more salutary to active men than occasional intervals
+of repose,--when we look within, instead of without, and examine almost
+_insensibly_ (for I hold strict and conscious self-scrutiny a thing much
+rarer than we suspect)--what we have done--what we are capable of doing.
+It is settling, as it were, a debtor and creditor account with the past,
+before we plunge into new speculations. Such an interval of repose
+did Maltravers now enjoy. In utter solitude, so far as familiar
+companionship is concerned, he had for several weeks been making himself
+acquainted with his own character and mind. He read and thought much,
+but without any exact or defined object. I think it is Montaigne who
+says somewhere: "People talk about thinking--but for my part I never
+think, except when I sit down to write." I believe this is not a very
+common case, for people who don't write think as well as people who do;
+but connected, severe, well-developed thought, in contradistinction to
+vague meditation, must be connected with some tangible plan or object;
+and therefore we must be either writing men or acting men, if we desire
+to test the logic, and unfold into symmetrical design the fused colours
+of our reasoning faculty. Maltravers did not yet feel this, but he was
+sensible of some intellectual want. His ideas, his memories, his dreams
+crowded thick and confused upon him; he wished to arrange them in order,
+and he could not. He was overpowered by the unorganised affluence of his
+own imagination and intellect. He had often, even as a child, fancied
+that he was formed to do something in the world, but he had never
+steadily considered what it was to be, whether he was to become a man
+of books or a man of deeds. He had written poetry when it poured
+irresistibly from the fount of emotion within, but looked at his
+effusions with a cold and neglectful eye when the enthusiasm had passed
+away.
+
+Maltravers was not much gnawed by the desire of fame--perhaps few men of
+real genius are, until artificially worked up to it. There is in a
+sound and correct intellect, with all its gifts fairly balanced, a calm
+consciousness of power, a certainty that when its strength is fairly
+put out, it must be to realise the usual result of strength. Men
+of second-rate faculties, on the contrary, are fretful and nervous,
+fidgeting after a celebrity which they do not estimate by their own
+talents, but by the talents of some one else. They see a tower, but
+are occupied only with measuring its shadow, and think their own height
+(which they never calculate) is to cast as broad a one over the earth.
+It is the short man who is always throwing up his chin, and is as erect
+as a dart. The tall man stoops, and the strong man is not always using
+the dumb-bells.
+
+Maltravers had not yet, then, the keen and sharp yearning for
+reputation; he had not, as yet, tasted its sweets and bitters--fatal
+draught, which _once_ tasted, begets too often an insatiable thirst!
+neither had he enemies and decriers whom he was desirous of abashing by
+merit. And that is a very ordinary cause for exertion in proud minds. He
+was, it is true, generally reputed clever, and fools were afraid of
+him: but as he actively interfered with no man's pretensions, so no man
+thought it necessary to call him a blockhead. At present, therefore, it
+was quietly and naturally that his mind was working its legitimate way
+to its destiny of exertion. He began idly and carelessly to note down
+his thoughts and impressions; what was once put on the paper, begot
+new matter; his ideas became more lucid to himself; and the page grew
+a looking-glass, which presented the likeness of his own features. He
+began by writing with rapidity, and without method. He had no object but
+to please himself, and to find a vent for an overcharged spirit; and,
+like most writings of the young, the matter was egotistical. We commence
+with the small nucleus of passion and experience, to widen the circle
+afterwards; and, perhaps, the most extensive and universal masters of
+life and character have begun by being egotists. For there is in a man
+that has much in him a wonderfully acute and sensitive perception of his
+own existence. An imaginative and susceptible person has, indeed, ten
+times as much life as a dull fellow, "an he be Hercules." He multiplies
+himself in a thousand objects, associates each with his own identity,
+lives in each, and almost looks upon the world with its infinite objects
+as a part of his individual being. Afterwards, as he tames down, he
+withdraws his forces into the citadel, but he still has a knowledge of,
+and an interest in, the land they once covered. He understands
+other people, for he has lived in other people--the dead and the
+living;--fancied himself now Brutus and now Caesar, and thought how _he_
+should act in almost every imaginable circumstance of life.
+
+Thus, when he begins to paint human characters, essentially different
+from his own, his knowledge comes to him almost intuitively. It is as if
+he were describing the mansions in which he himself has formerly
+lodged, though for a short time. Hence in great writers of History--of
+Romance--of the Drama--the _gusto_ with which they paint their
+personages; their creations are flesh and blood, not shadows or
+machines.
+
+Maltravers was at first, then, an egotist, in the matter of his rude and
+desultory sketches--in the manner, as I said before, he was careless and
+negligent, as men will be who have not yet found that expression is
+an art. Still those wild and valueless essays--those rapt and secret
+confessions of his own heart--were a delight to him. He began to taste
+the transport, the intoxication of an author. And, oh, what a luxury
+is there in that first love of the Muse! that process by which we give
+palpable form to the long-intangible visions which have flitted across
+us;--the beautiful ghost of the Ideal within us, which we invoke in the
+Gadara of our still closets, with the wand of the simple pen!
+
+It was early noon, the day after he had formed his acquaintance with the
+De Montaignes, that Maltravers sat in his favourite room;--the one
+he had selected for his study from the many chambers of his large and
+solitary habitation. He sat in a recess by the open window, which looked
+on the lake; and books were scattered on his table, and Maltravers
+was jotting down his criticisms on what he read, mingled with
+his impressions on what he saw. It is the pleasantest kind of
+composition--the note-book of a man who studies in retirement, who
+observes in society, who in all things can admire and feel. He was yet
+engaged in this easy task, when Cesarini was announced, and the young
+brother of the fair Teresa entered his apartment.
+
+"I have availed myself soon of your invitation," said the Italian.
+
+"I acknowledge the compliment," replied Maltravers, pressing the hand
+shyly held out to him.
+
+"I see you have been writing--I thought you were attached to literature.
+I read it in your countenance, I heard it in your voice," said Cesarini,
+seating himself.
+
+"I have been idly beguiling a very idle leisure, it is true," said
+Maltravers.
+
+"But you do not write for yourself alone--you have an eye to the great
+tribunals--Time and the Public."
+
+"Not so, I assure you honestly," said Maltravers, smiling. "If you
+look at the books on my table, you will see that they are the great
+masterpieces of ancient and modern lore--these are studies that
+discourage tyros--"
+
+"But inspire them."
+
+"I do not think so. Models may form our taste as critics, but do not
+excite us to be authors. I fancy that our own emotions, our own sense
+of our destiny, make the great lever of the inert matter we accumulate.
+'Look in thy heart and write,' said an old English writer,* who did not,
+however, practise what he preached. And you, Signor--"
+
+* Sir Philip Sidney.
+
+"Am nothing, and would be something," said the young man, shortly and
+bitterly.
+
+"And how does that wish not realise its object?"
+
+"Merely because I am Italian," said Cesarini. "With us there is no
+literary public--no vast reading class--we have dilettanti and literati,
+and students, and even authors; but these make only a coterie, not a
+public. I have written, I have published; but no one listened to me. I
+am an author without readers."
+
+"It is no uncommon case in England," said Maltravers.
+
+The Italian continued: "I thought to live in the mouths of men--to stir
+up thoughts long dumb--to awaken the strings of the old lyre! In vain.
+Like the nightingale, I sing only to break my heart with a false and
+melancholy emulation of other notes."
+
+"There are epochs in all countries," said Maltravers, gently, "when
+peculiar veins of literature are out of vogue, and when no genius
+can bring them into public notice. But you wisely said there were two
+tribunals--the Public and Time. You have still the last to appeal to.
+Your great Italian historians wrote for the unborn--their works not even
+published till their death. That indifference to living reputation has
+in it, to me, something of the sublime."
+
+"I cannot imitate them--and they were not poets," said Cesarini,
+sharply. "To poets, praise is a necessary aliment; neglect is death."
+
+"My dear Signor Cesarini," said the Englishman, feelingly, "do not give
+way to these thoughts. There ought to be in a healthful ambition the
+stubborn stuff of persevering longevity; it must live on, and hope
+for the day which comes slow or fast, to all whose labours deserve the
+goal."
+
+"But perhaps mine do not. I sometimes fear so--it is a horrid thought."
+
+"You are very young yet," said Maltravers; "how few at your age ever
+sicken for fame! That first step is, perhaps, the half way to the
+prize."
+
+I am not sure that Ernest thought exactly as he spoke; but it was the
+most delicate consolation to offer to a man whose abrupt frankness
+embarrassed and distressed him. The young man shook his head
+despondingly. Maltravers tried to change the subject--he rose and moved
+to the balcony, which overhung the lake--he talked of the weather--he
+dwelt on the exquisite scenery--he pointed to the minute and more latent
+beauties around, with the eye and taste of one who had looked at Nature
+in her details. The poet grew more animated and cheerful; he became even
+eloquent; he quoted poetry and he talked it. Maltravers was more and
+more interested in him. He felt a curiosity to know if his talents
+equalled his aspirations: he hinted to Cesarini his wish to see his
+compositions--it was just what the young man desired. Poor Cesarini!
+It was much to him to get a new listener, and he fondly imagined every
+honest listener must be a warm admirer. But with the coyness of his
+caste, he affected reluctance and hesitation; he dallied with his own
+impatient yearnings. And Maltravers, to smooth his way, proposed an
+excursion on the lake.
+
+"One of my men shall row," said he; "you shall recite to me, and I will
+be to you what the old housekeeper was to Moliere."
+
+Maltravers had deep good-nature where he was touched, though he had not
+a superfluity of what is called good-humour, which floats on the surface
+and smiles on all alike. He had much of the milk of human kindness, but
+little of its oil.
+
+The poet assented, and they were soon upon the lake. It was a sultry
+day, and it was noon; so the boat crept slowly along by the shadow of
+the shore, and Cesarini drew from his breast-pocket some manuscripts of
+small and beautiful writing. Who does not know the pains a young poet
+takes to bestow a fair dress on his darling rhymes!
+
+Cesarini read well and feelingly. Everything was in favour of the
+reader. His own poetical countenance--his voice, his enthusiasm,
+half-suppressed--the pre-engaged interest of the auditor--the dreamy
+loveliness of the hour and scene--(for there is a great deal as to time
+in these things). Maltravers listened intently. It is very difficult to
+judge of the exact merit of poetry in another language even when we
+know that language well--so much is there in the untranslatable magic of
+expression, the little subtleties of style. But Maltravers, fresh, as
+he himself had said, from the study of great and original writers,
+could not but feel that he was listening to feeble though melodious
+mediocrity. It was the poetry of words, not things. He thought it cruel,
+however, to be hypercritical, and he uttered all the commonplaces of
+eulogium that occurred to him. The young man was enchanted: "And yet,"
+said he with a sigh, "I have no Public. In England they would appreciate
+me." Alas! in England, at that moment, there were five hundred poets as
+young, as ardent, and yet more gifted, whose hearts beat with the same
+desire--whose nerves were broken by the same disappointments.
+
+Maltravers found that his young friend would not listen to any judgment
+not purely favourable. The archbishop in _Gil Blas_ was not more touchy
+upon any criticism that was not panegyric. Maltravers thought it a bad
+sign, but he recollected Gil Blas, and prudently refrained from bringing
+on himself the benevolent wish of "beaucoup de bonheur et un peu, plus
+de bon gout." When Cesarini had finished his MS., he was anxious to
+conclude the excursion--he longed to be at home, and think over the
+admiration he had excited. But he left his poems with Maltravers, and
+getting on shore by the remains of Pliny's villa, was soon out of sight.
+
+Maltravers that evening read the poems with attention. His first opinion
+was confirmed. The young man wrote without knowledge. He had never felt
+the passions he painted, never been in the situations he described.
+There was no originality in him, for there was no experience; it was
+exquisite mechanism, his verse,--nothing more. It might well deceive
+him, for it could not but flatter his ear--and Tasso's silver march rang
+not more musically than did the chiming stanzas of Castruccio Cesarini.
+
+The perusal of this poetry, and his conversation with the poet, threw
+Maltravers into a fit of deep musing. "This poor Cesarini may warn me
+against myself!" thought he. "Better hew wood and draw water than attach
+ourselves devotedly to an art in which we have not the capacity to
+excel.... It is to throw away the healthful objects of life for a
+diseased dream,--worse than the Rosicrucians, it is to make a sacrifice
+of all human beauty for the smile of a sylphid that never visits us but
+in visions." Maltravers looked over his own compositions, and thrust
+them into the fire. He slept ill that night. His pride was a little
+dejected. He was like a beauty who has seen a caricature of herself.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ "Still follow SENSE, of every art the Soul."
+   POPE: _Moral Essays_--Essay iv.
+
+ERNEST MALTRAVERS spent much of his time with the family of De
+Montaigne. There is no period of life in which we are more accessible
+to the sentiment of friendship than in the intervals of moral exhaustion
+which succeed to the disappointments of the passions. There is, then,
+something inviting in those gentler feelings which keep alive, but do
+not fever, the circulation of the affections. Maltravers looked with
+the benevolence of a brother upon the brilliant, versatile, and restless
+Teresa. She was the last person in the world he could have been in
+love with--for his nature, ardent, excitable, yet fastidious, required
+something of repose in the manners and temperament of the woman whom he
+could love, and Teresa scarcely knew what repose was. Whether playing
+with her children (and she had two lovely ones--the eldest six years
+old), or teasing her calm and meditative husband, or pouring out
+extempore verses, or rattling over airs which she never finished, on
+the guitar or piano--or making excursions on the lake--or, in short, in
+whatever occupation she appeared as the Cynthia of the minute, she was
+always gay and mobile--never out of humour, never acknowledging a
+single care or cross in life--never susceptible of grief, save when her
+brother's delicate health or morbid temper saddened her atmosphere
+of sunshine. Even then, the sanguine elasticity of her mind and
+constitution quickly recovered from the depression; and she persuaded
+herself that Castruccio would grow stronger every year, and ripen into
+a celebrated and happy man. Castruccio himself lived what romantic
+poetasters call the "life of a poet." He loved to see the sun rise over
+the distant Alps--or the midnight moon sleeping on the lake. He spent
+half the day, and often half the night, in solitary rambles, weaving his
+airy rhymes, or indulging his gloomy reveries, and he thought loneliness
+made the element of a poet. Alas! Dante, Alfieri, even Petrarch might
+have taught him, that a poet must have intimate knowledge of men as well
+as mountains, if he desire to become the CREATOR. When Shelley, in one
+of his prefaces, boasts of being familiar with Alps and glaciers, and
+Heaven knows what, the critical artist cannot help wishing that he had
+been rather familiar with Fleet Street or the Strand. Perhaps, then,
+that remarkable genius might have been more capable of realizing
+characters of flesh and blood, and have composed corporeal and
+consummate wholes, not confused and glittering fragments.
+
+Though Ernest was attached to Teresa and deeply interested in
+Castruccio, it was De Montaigne for whom he experienced the higher and
+graver sentiment of esteem. This Frenchman was one acquainted with a
+much larger world than that of the Coteries. He had served in the army,
+had been employed with distinction in civil affairs, and was of that
+robust and healthful moral constitution which can bear with every
+variety of social life, and estimate calmly the balance of our moral
+fortunes. Trial and experience had left him that true philosopher who
+is too wise to be an optimist, too just to be a misanthrope. He enjoyed
+life with sober judgment, and pursued the path most suited to himself,
+without declaring it to be the best for others. He was a little hard,
+perhaps, upon the errors that belong to weakness and conceit--not to
+those that have their source in great natures or generous thoughts.
+Among his characteristics was a profound admiration for England. His own
+country he half loved, yet half disdained. The impetuosity and levity of
+his compatriots displeased his sober and dignified notions. He could
+not forgive them (he was wont to say) for having made the two grand
+experiments of popular revolution and military despotism in vain. He
+sympathised neither with the young enthusiasts who desired a republic,
+without well knowing the numerous strata of habits and customs upon
+which that fabric, if designed for permanence, should be built--nor with
+the uneducated and fierce chivalry that longed for a restoration of the
+warrior empire--nor with the dull and arrogant bigots who connected all
+ideas of order and government with the ill-starred and worn-out dynasty
+of the Bourbons. In fact, GOOD SENSE was with him the _principium et
+fons_ of all theories and all practice. And it was this quality that
+attached him to the English. His philosophy on this head was rather
+curious.
+
+"Good sense," said he one day to Maltravers, as they were walking to and
+fro at De Montaigne's villa, by the margin of the lake, "is not a merely
+intellectual attribute. It is rather the result of a just equilibrium
+of all our faculties, spiritual and moral. The dishonest, or the toys of
+their own passions, may have genius; but they rarely, if ever, have good
+sense in the conduct of life. They may often win large prizes, but it is
+by a game of chance, not skill. But the man whom I perceive walking an
+honourable and upright career--just to others, and also to himself
+(for we owe justice to ourselves--to the care of our fortunes, our
+character--to the management of our passions)--is a more dignified
+representative of his Maker than the mere child of genius. Of such a man
+we say he has GOOD SENSE; yes, but he has also integrity, self-respect,
+and self-denial. A thousand trials which his sense raves and conquers,
+are temptations also to his probity--his temper--in a word, to all the
+many sides of his complicated nature. Now, I do not think he will have
+this _good sense_ any more than a drunkard will have strong nerves,
+unless he be in the constant habit of keeping his mind clear from the
+intoxication of envy, vanity, and the various emotions that dupe and
+mislead us. Good sense is not, therefore, an abstract quality or a
+solitary talent; but it is the natural result of the habit of thinking
+justly, and therefore seeing clearly, and is as different from the
+sagacity that belongs to a diplomatist or attorney, as the philosophy of
+Socrates differed from the rhetoric of Gorgias. As a mass of individual
+excellences make up this attribute in a man, so a mass of such men thus
+characterised give a character to a nation. Your England is, therefore,
+renowned for its good sense, but it is renowned also for the excellences
+which accompany strong sense in an individual--high honesty and faith
+in its dealings, a warm love of justice and fair play, a general freedom
+from the violent crimes common on the Continent, and the energetic
+perseverance in enterprise once commenced, which results from a bold and
+healthful disposition."
+
+"Our wars, our debt--" began Maltravers.
+
+"Pardon me," interrupted De Montaigne, "I am speaking of your
+people, not of your government. A government is often a very unfair
+representative of a nation. But even in the wars you allude to, if you
+examine, you will generally find them originate in the love of justice,
+which is the basis of good sense, not from any insane desire of conquest
+or glory. A man, however sensible, must have a heart in his bosom, and
+a great nation cannot be a piece of selfish clockwork. Suppose you and
+I are sensible, prudent men, and we see in a crowd one violent fellow
+unjustly knocking another on the head, we should be brutes, not men, if
+we did not interfere with the savage; but if we thrust ourselves into a
+crowd with a large bludgeon, and belabour our neighbours, with the hope
+that the spectators would cry, 'See what a bold, strong fellow that
+is!'--then we should be only playing the madman from the motive of the
+coxcomb. I fear you will find in the military history of the French and
+English the application of my parable."
+
+"Yet still, I confess, there is a gallantry, and a noblemanlike and
+Norman spirit in the whole French nation, which make me forgive many
+of their excesses, and think they are destined for great purposes, when
+experience shall have sobered their hot blood. Some nations, as some
+men, are slow in arriving at maturity; others seem men in their
+cradle. The English, thanks to their sturdy Saxon origin, elevated, not
+depressed, by the Norman infusion, never were children. The difference
+is striking, when you regard the representatives of both in their great
+men--whether writers or active citizens."
+
+"Yes," said De Montaigne, "in Milton and Cromwell there is nothing of
+the brilliant child. I cannot say as much for Voltaire or Napoleon.
+Even Richelieu, the manliest of our statesmen, had so much of the French
+infant in him as to fancy himself a _beau garcon_, a gallant, a wit, and
+a poet. As for the Racine school of writers, they were not out of the
+leading-strings of imitation--cold copyists of a pseudo-classic, in
+which they saw the form, and never caught the spirit. What so little
+Roman, Greek, Hebrew, as their Roman, Greek, and Hebrew dramas?
+Your rude Shakespeare's _Julius Caesar_--even his _Troilus and
+Cressida_--have the ancient spirit, precisely as they are imitations of
+nothing ancient. But our Frenchmen copied the giant images of old just
+as the school-girl copies a drawing, by holding it up to the window, and
+tracing the lines on silver paper."
+
+"But your new writers--De Stael--Chateaubriand?"*
+
+* At the time of this conversation the later school, adorned by Victor
+Hugo, who, with notions of art elaborately wrong, is still a man
+of extraordinary genius, had not risen into its present equivocal
+reputation.
+
+"I find no fault with the sentimentalists," answered the severe critic,
+"but that of exceeding feebleness. They have no bone and muscle in their
+genius--all is flaccid and rotund in its feminine symmetry. They seem to
+think that vigour consists in florid phrases and little aphorisms, and
+delineate all the mighty tempests of the human heart with the polished
+prettiness of a miniature-painter on ivory. No!--these two are children
+of another kind--affected, tricked-out, well-dressed children--very
+clever, very precocious--but children still. Their whinings, and their
+sentimentalities, and their egotism, and their vanity, cannot interest
+masculine beings who know what life and its stern objects are."
+
+"Your brother-in-law," said Maltravers with a slight smile, "must find
+in you a discouraging censor."
+
+"My poor Castruccio," replied De Montaigne, with a half-sigh; "he is one
+of those victims whom I believe to be more common than we dream of--men
+whose aspirations are above their powers. I agree with a great German
+writer, that in the first walks of Art no man has a right to enter,
+unless he is convinced that he has strength and speed for the goal.
+Castruccio might be an amiable member of society, nay, an able and
+useful man, if he would apply the powers he possesses to the rewards
+they may obtain. He has talent enough to win him reputation in any
+profession but that of a poet."
+
+"But authors who obtain immortality are not always first-rate."
+
+"First-rate in their way, I suspect; even if that way be false or
+trivial. They must be connected with the _history_ of their literature;
+you must be able to say of them, 'In this school, be it bad or good,
+they exerted such and such an influence;' in a word, they must form a
+link in the great chain of a nation's authors, which may be afterwards
+forgotten by the superficial, but without which the chain would be
+incomplete. And thus, if not first-rate for all time, they have
+been first-rate in their own day. But Castruccio is only the echo of
+others--he can neither found a school nor ruin one. Yet this" (again
+added De Montaigne after a pause)--"this melancholy malady in my
+brother-in-law would cure itself, perhaps, if he were not Italian. In
+your animated and bustling country, after sufficient disappointment as a
+poet, he would glide into some other calling, and his vanity and craving
+for effect would find a rational and manly outlet. But in Italy, what
+can a clever man do, if he is not a poet or a robber? If he love his
+country, that crime is enough to unfit him for civil employment, and
+his mind cannot stir a step in the bold channels of speculation without
+falling foul of the Austrian or the Pope. No; the best I can hope for
+Castruccio is, that he will end in an antiquary, and dispute about ruins
+with the Romans. Better that than mediocre poetry."
+
+Maltravers was silent and thoughtful. Strange to say, De Montaigne's
+views did not discourage his own new and secret ardour for intellectual
+triumphs; not because he felt that he was now able to achieve them, but
+because he felt the iron of his own nature, and knew that a man who
+has iron in his nature must ultimately hit upon some way of shaping the
+metal into use.
+
+The host and guest were now joined by Castruccio himself--silent and
+gloomy as indeed he usually was, especially in the presence of De
+Montaigne, with whom he felt his "self-love" wounded; for though he
+longed to despise his hard brother-in-law, the young poet was compelled
+to acknowledge that De Montaigne was not a man to be despised.
+
+Maltravers dined with the De Montaignes, and spent the evening with
+them. He could not but observe that Castruccio, who affected in his
+verses the softest sentiments--who was, indeed, by original nature,
+tender and gentle--had become so completely warped by that worst of all
+mental vices--the eternally pondering on his own excellences, talents,
+mortifications, and ill-usage, that he never contributed to the
+gratification of those around him; he had none of the little arts of
+social benevolence, none of the playful youth of disposition
+which usually belongs to the good-hearted, and for which men of a
+master-genius, however elevated their studies, however stern or reserved
+to the vulgar world, are commonly noticeable amidst the friends they
+love or in the home they adorn. Occupied with one dream, centred
+in self, the young Italian was sullen and morose to all who did
+not sympathise with his own morbid fancies. From the children--the
+sister--the friend--the whole living earth, he fled to a poem on
+Solitude, or stanzas upon Fame. Maltravers said to himself, "I will
+never be an author--I will never sigh for renown--if I am to purchase
+shadows at such a price!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+ "It cannot be too deeply impressed on the mind, that application
+  is the price to be paid for mental acquisitions, and that it is
+  as absurd to expect them without it as to hope for a harvest
+  where we have not sown the seed.
+
+ "In everything we do, we may be possibly laying a train of
+  consequences, the operation of which may terminate only with
+  our existence."
+
+   BAILEY: _Essays on the Formation and Publication of Opinions_.
+
+TIME passed, and autumn was far advanced towards winter; still
+Maltravers lingered at Como. He saw little of any other family than that
+of the De Montaignes, and the greater part of his time was necessarily
+spent alone. His occupation continued to be that of making experiments
+of his own powers, and these gradually became bolder and more
+comprehensive. He took care, however, not to show his "Diversions of
+Como" to his new friends: he wanted no audience--he dreamt of no Public;
+he desired merely to practise his own mind. He became aware, of his own
+accord, as he proceeded, that a man can neither study with such depth,
+nor compose with much art, unless he has some definite object before
+him; in the first, some one branch of knowledge to master; in the last,
+some one conception to work out. Maltravers fell back upon his boyish
+passion for metaphysical speculation; but with what different
+results did he now wrestle with the subtle schoolmen, now that he had
+practically known mankind. How insensibly new lights broke in upon him,
+as he threaded the labyrinth of cause and effect, by which we seek to
+arrive at that curious and biform monster--our own nature. His
+mind became saturated, as it were, with these profound studies and
+meditations; and when at length he paused from them, he felt as if
+he had not been living in solitude, but had gone through a process of
+action in the busy world: so much juster, so much clearer, had become
+his knowledge of himself and others. But though these researches
+coloured, they did not limit his intellectual pursuits. Poetry and the
+lighter letters became to him not merely a relaxation, but a critical
+and thoughtful study. He delighted to penetrate into the causes that
+have made the airy webs spun by men's fancies so permanent and powerful
+in their influence over the hard, work-day world. And what a lovely
+scene--what a sky--what an air wherein to commence the projects of that
+ambition which seeks to establish an empire in the hearts and memories
+of mankind! I believe it has a great effect on the future labours of
+a writer,--the place where he first dreams that it is his destiny to
+write!
+
+From these pursuits Ernest was aroused by another letter from Cleveland.
+His kind friend had been disappointed and vexed that Maltravers did not
+follow his advice, and return to England. He had shown his displeasure
+by not answering Ernest's letter of excuses; but lately he had been
+seized with a dangerous illness which reduced him to the brink of the
+grave; and with a heart softened by the exhaustion of the frame, he now
+wrote in the first moments of convalescence to Maltravers, informing
+him of his attack and danger, and once more urging him to return. The
+thought that Cleveland--the dear, kind gentle guardian of his youth--had
+been near unto death, that he might never more have hung upon that
+fostering hand, nor replied to that paternal voice, smote Ernest with
+terror and remorse. He resolved instantly to return to England, and made
+his preparations accordingly.
+
+He went to take leave of the De Montaignes. Teresa was trying to teach
+her first-born to read; and seated by the open window of the villa, in
+her neat, not precise, _dishabille_--with the little boy's delicate, yet
+bold and healthy countenance looking up fearlessly at hers, while she
+was endeavouring to initiate him--half gravely, half laughingly--into
+the mysteries of monosyllables, the pretty boy and the fair young mother
+made a delightful picture. De Montaigne was reading the Essays of his
+celebrated namesake, in whom he boasted, I know not with what justice,
+to claim an ancestor. From time to time he looked from the page to take
+a glance at the progress of his heir, and keep up with the march of
+intellect. But he did not interfere with the maternal lecture; he was
+wise enough to know that there is a kind of sympathy between a child and
+a mother, which is worth all the grave superiority of a father in making
+learning palatable to young years. He was far too clever a man not to
+despise all the systems of forcing infants under knowledge-frames, which
+are the present fashion. He knew that philosophers never made a greater
+mistake than in insisting so much upon beginning abstract education
+from the cradle. It is quite enough to attend to an infant's temper, and
+correct that cursed predilection for telling fibs which falsifies all
+Dr. Reid's absurd theory about innate propensities to truth, and makes
+the prevailing epidemic of the nursery. Above all, what advantage ever
+compensates for hurting a child's health or breaking his spirit? Never
+let him learn, more than you can help it, the crushing bitterness of
+fear. A bold child who looks you in the face, speaks the truth, and
+shames the devil; that is the stuff of which to make good and brave--ay,
+and wise men!
+
+Maltravers entered, unannounced, into this charming family party, and
+stood unobserved for a few moments, by the open door. The little pupil
+was the first to perceive him, and, forgetful of monosyllables, ran
+to greet him; for Maltravers, though gentle rather than gay, was a
+favourite with children, and his fair, calm, gracious countenance did
+more for him with them than if, like Goldsmith's Burchell, his pockets
+had been filled with gingerbread and apples. "Ah, fie on you, Mr.
+Maltravers!" cried Teresa, rising; "you have blown away all the
+characters I have been endeavouring this last hour to imprint upon
+sand."
+
+"Not so, Signora," said Maltravers, seating himself, and placing the
+child on his knee; "my young friend will set to work again with a
+greater gusto after this little break in upon his labours."
+
+"You will stay with us all day, I hope?" said De Montaigne.
+
+"Indeed," said Maltravers, "I am come to ask permission to do so, for
+to-morrow I depart for England."
+
+"Is it possible?" cried Teresa. "How sudden! How we shall miss you! Oh!
+don't go. But perhaps you have bad news from England?"
+
+"I have news that summon me hence," replied Maltravers; "my guardian
+and second father has been dangerously ill. I am uneasy about him,
+and reproach myself for having forgotten him so long in your seductive
+society."
+
+"I am really sorry to lose you," said De Montaigne, with greater warmth
+in his tone than in his words. "I hope heartily we shall meet again
+soon: you will come, perhaps, to Paris?"
+
+"Probably," said Maltravers; "and you, perhaps, to England?"
+
+"Ah, how I should like it!" exclaimed Teresa.
+
+"No, you would not," said her husband; "you would not like England
+at all; you would call it _triste_ beyond measure. It is one of those
+countries of which a native should be proud, but which has no amusement
+for a stranger, precisely because full of such serious and stirring
+occupations to the citizens. The pleasantest countries for strangers are
+the worst countries for natives (witness Italy), and _vice versa_."
+
+Teresa shook her dark curls, and would not be convinced.
+
+"And where is Castruccio?" asked Maltravers.
+
+"In his boat on the lake," replied Teresa. "He will be inconsolable
+at your departure: you are the only person he can understand, or who
+understand him; the only person in Italy--I had almost said in the whole
+world."
+
+"Well, we shall meet at dinner," said Ernest; "meanwhile let me prevail
+on you to accompany me to the _Pliniana_. I wish to say farewell to that
+crystal spring."
+
+Teresa, delighted at any excursion, readily consented.
+
+"And I too, mamma," cried the child; "and my little sister?"
+
+"Oh, certainly," said Maltravers, speaking for the parents.
+
+So the party was soon ready, and they pushed off in the clear genial
+noontide (for November in Italy is as early as September in the North)
+across the sparkling and dimpled waters. The children prattled, and the
+grown-up people talked on a thousand matters. It was a pleasant day,
+that last day at Como! For the farewells of friendship have indeed
+something of the melancholy, but not the anguish, of those of love.
+Perhaps it would be better if we could get rid of love altogether. Life
+would go on smoother and happier without it. Friendship is the wine of
+existence, but love is the dram-drinking.
+
+When they returned, they found Castruccio seated on the lawn. He did not
+appear so much dejected at the prospect of Ernest's departure as Teresa
+had anticipated; for Castruccio Cesarini was a very jealous man, and he
+had lately been chagrined and discontented with seeing the delight that
+the De Montaignes took in Ernest's society.
+
+"Why is this?" he often asked himself; "why are they more pleased with
+this stranger's society than mine? My ideas are as fresh, as original;
+I have as much genius, yet even my dry brother-in-law allows _his_
+talents, and predicts that _he_ will be an eminent man! while
+_I_--No!--one is not a prophet in one's own country!"
+
+Unhappy man! his mind bore all the rank weeds of the morbid poetical
+character, and the weeds choked up the flowers that the soil, properly
+cultivated, should alone bear. Yet that crisis in life awaited
+Castruccio, in which a sensitive and poetical man is made or marred; the
+crisis in which a sentiment is replaced by the passions--in which love
+for some real object gathers the scattered rays of the heart into a
+focus: out of that ordeal he might pass a purer and manlier being--so
+Maltravers often hoped. Maltravers then little thought how closely
+connected with his own fate was to be that passage in the history of the
+Italian. Castruccio contrived to take Maltravers aside, and as he led
+the Englishman through the wood that backed the mansion, he said, with
+some embarrassment, "You go, I suppose, to London?"
+
+"I shall pass through it--can I execute any commission for you?"
+
+"Why, yes; my poems!--I think of publishing them in England: your
+aristocracy cultivate the Italian letters; and, perhaps, I may be read
+by the fair and noble--_that_ is the proper audience of poets. For the
+vulgar herd--I disdain it!"
+
+"My dear Castruccio, I will undertake to see your poems published in
+London, if you wish it; but do not be sanguine. In England we read
+little poetry, even in our own language, and we are shamefully
+indifferent to foreign literature."
+
+"Yes, foreign literature generally, and you are right; but my poems
+are of another kind. They must command attention in a polished and
+intelligent circle."
+
+"Well! let the experiment be tried; you can let me have the poems when
+we part."
+
+"I thank you," said Castruccio, in a joyous tone, pressing his friend's
+hand; and for the rest of that evening, he seemed an altered being; he
+even caressed the children, and did not sneer at the grave conversation
+of his brother-in-law.
+
+When Maltravers rose to depart, Castruccio gave him the packet; and
+then, utterly engrossed with his own imagined futurity of fame,
+vanished from the room to indulge his reveries. He cared no longer
+for Maltravers--he had put him to use--he could not be sorry for his
+departure, for that departure was the Avatar of His appearance to a new
+world.
+
+A small dull rain was falling, though, at intervals, the stars broke
+through the unsettled clouds, and Teresa did not therefore venture from
+the house; she presented her smooth cheek to the young guest to salute,
+pressed him by the hand, and bade him adieu with tears in her eyes.
+"Ah!" said she, "when we meet again I hope you will be married--I shall
+love your wife dearly. There is no happiness like marriage and home!"
+and she looked with ingenuous tenderness at De Montaigne.
+
+Maltravers sighed;--his thoughts flew back to Alice. Where now was that
+lone and friendless girl, whose innocent love had once brightened a
+home for _him_? He answered by a vague and mechanical commonplace, and
+quitted the room with De Montaigne, who insisted on seeing him depart.
+As they neared the lake, De Montaigne broke the silence.
+
+"My dear Maltravers," he said, with a serious and thoughtful affection
+in his voice, "we may not meet again for years. I have a warm interest
+in your happiness and career--yes, _career_--I repeat the word. I do not
+habitually seek to inspire young men with ambition. Enough for most
+of them to be good and honourable citizens. But in your case it is
+different. I see in you the earnest and meditative, not rash and
+overweening youth, which is usually productive of a distinguished
+manhood. Your mind is not yet settled, it is true; but it is fast
+becoming clear and mellow from the first ferment of boyish dreams
+and passions. You have everything in your favour,--competence, birth,
+connections; and, above all, you are an Englishman! You have a mighty
+stage, on which, it is true, you cannot establish a footing without
+merit and without labour--so much the better; in which strong and
+resolute rivals will urge you on to emulation, and then competition will
+task your keenest powers. Think what a glorious fate it is, to have
+an influence on the vast, but ever-growing mind of such a country,--to
+feel, when you retire from the busy scene, that you have played an
+unforgotten part--that you have been the medium, under God's great will,
+of circulating new ideas throughout the world--of upholding the glorious
+priesthood of the Honest and the Beautiful. This is the true ambition;
+the desire of mere personal notoriety is vanity, not ambition. Do not
+then be lukewarm or supine. The trait I have observed in you," added
+the Frenchman, with a smile, "most prejudicial to your chances of
+distinction is, that you are _too_ philosophical, too apt to _cui
+bono_ all the exertions that interfere with the indolence of cultivated
+leisure. And you must not suppose, Maltravers, that an active career
+will be a path of roses. At present you have no enemies; but the moment
+you attempt distinction, you will be abused; calumniated, reviled.
+You will be shocked at the wrath you excite, and sigh for your old
+obscurity, and consider, as Franklin has it, that 'you have paid too
+dear for your whistle.' But in return for individual enemies, what a
+noble recompense to have made the Public itself your friend; perhaps
+even Posterity your familiar! Besides," added De Montaigne, with almost
+a religious solemnity in his voice, "there is a conscience of the head
+as well as of the heart, and in old age we feel as much remorse if
+we have wasted our natural talents as if we had perverted our natural
+virtues. The profound and exultant satisfaction with which a man who
+knows that he has not lived in vain--that he has entailed on the
+world an heirloom of instruction or delight--looks back upon departed
+struggles, is one of the happiest emotions of which the conscience can
+be capable. What, indeed, are the petty faults we commit as individuals,
+affecting but a narrow circle, ceasing with our own lives, to the
+incalculable and everlasting good we may produce as public men by one
+book or by one law? Depend upon it that the Almighty, who sums up all
+the good and all the evil done by His creatures in a just balance, will
+not judge the august benefactors of the world with the same severity
+as those drones of society, who have no great services to show in the
+eternal ledger, as a set-off to the indulgence of their small vices.
+These things rightly considered, Maltravers, you will have every
+inducement that can tempt a lofty mind and a pure ambition to awaken
+from the voluptuous indolence of the literary Sybarite, and contend
+worthily in the world's wide Altis for a great prize."
+
+Maltravers never before felt so flattered--so stirred into high
+resolves. The stately eloquence, the fervid encouragement of this man,
+usually so cold and fastidious, roused him like the sound of a trumpet.
+He stopped short, his breath heaved thick, his cheek flushed. "De
+Montaigne," said he, "your words have cleared away a thousand doubts
+and scruples--they have gone right to my heart. For the first time I
+understand what fame is--what the object, and what the reward of labour!
+Visions, hopes, aspirations I may have had before--for months a new
+spirit has been fluttering within me. I have felt the wings breaking
+from the shell, but all was confused, dim, uncertain. I doubted the
+wisdom of effort, with life so short, and the pleasures of youth so
+sweet. I now look no longer on life but as a part of the eternity to
+which I _feel_ we were born; and I recognise the solemn truth that our
+objects, to be worthy life, should be worthy of creatures in whom the
+living principle never is extinct. Farewell! come joy or sorrow, failure
+or success, I will struggle to deserve your friendship."
+
+Maltravers sprang into his boat, and the shades of night soon snatched
+him from the lingering gaze of De Montaigne.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK IV.
+
+ "Strange is the land that holds thee,--and thy couch
+  is widow'd of the loved one."
+   EURIP. _Med._ 442
+    Translation by R. G.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+        "I, alas!
+  Have lived but on this earth a few sad years;
+  And so my lot was ordered, that a father
+  First turned the moments of awakening life
+  To drops, each poisoning youth's sweet hope."
+   "_Cenci_."
+
+FROM accompanying Maltravers along the noiseless progress of mental
+education, we are now called awhile to cast our glances back at the
+ruder and harsher ordeal which Alice Darvil was ordained to pass. Along
+her path poetry shed no flowers, nor were her lonely steps towards the
+distant shrine at which her pilgrimage found its rest lighted by the
+mystic lamp of science, or guided by the thousand stars which are never
+dim in the heavens for those favoured eyes from which genius and fancy
+have removed many of the films of clay. Not along the aerial and exalted
+ways that wind far above the homes and business of common men--the
+solitary Alps of Spiritual Philosophy--wandered the desolate steps of
+the child of poverty and sorrow. On the beaten and rugged highways of
+common life, with a weary heart, and with bleeding feet, she went her
+melancholy course. But the goal which is the great secret of life, the
+_summum arcanum_ of all philosophy, whether the Practical or the Ideal,
+was, perhaps, no less attainable for that humble girl than for the
+elastic step and aspiring heart of him who thirsted after the Great, and
+almost believed in the Impossible.
+
+We return to that dismal night in which Alice was torn from the roof of
+her lover. It was long before she recovered her consciousness of what
+had passed, and gained a full perception of the fearful revolution which
+had taken place in her destinies. It was then a grey and dreary morning
+twilight; and the rude but covered vehicle which bore her was rolling
+along the deep ruts of an unfrequented road, winding among the
+uninclosed and mountainous wastes that, in England, usually betoken the
+neighbourhood of the sea. With a shudder Alice looked round: Walters,
+her father's accomplice, lay extended at her feet, and his heavy
+breathing showed that he was fast asleep. Darvil himself was urging on
+the jaded and sorry horse, and his broad back was turned towards Alice;
+the rain, from which, in his position, he was but ill protected by the
+awning, dripped dismally from his slouched hat; and now, as he turned
+round, and his sinister and gloomy gaze rested upon the face of Alice,
+his bad countenance, rendered more haggard by the cold raw light of the
+cheerless dawn, completed the hideous picture of unveiled and ruffianly
+wretchedness.
+
+"Ho, ho! Alley, so you are come to your senses," said he, with a kind of
+joyless grin. "I am glad of it, for I can have no fainting fine ladies
+with me. You have had a long holiday, Alley; you must now learn once
+more to work for your poor father. Ah, you have been d----d sly; but
+never mind the past--I forgive it. You must not run away again without
+my leave; if you are fond of sweethearts, I won't balk you--but your old
+father must go shares, Alley."
+
+Alice could hear no more: she covered her face with the cloak that had
+been thrown about her, and though she did not faint, her senses seemed
+to be locked and paralysed. By and by Walters woke, and the two men,
+heedless of her presence, conversed upon their plans. By degrees she
+recovered sufficient self-possession to listen, in the instinctive hope
+that some plan of escape might be suggested to her. But from what she
+could gather of the incoherent and various projects they discussed,
+one after another--disputing upon each with frightful oaths and scarce
+intelligible slang, she could only learn that it was resolved at all
+events to leave the district in which they were--but whither seemed yet
+all undecided. The cart halted at last at a miserable-looking hut, which
+the signpost announced to be an inn that afforded good accommodation to
+travellers; to which announcement was annexed the following epigrammatic
+distich:
+
+ "Old Tom, he is the best of gin;
+  Drink him once, and you'll drink him _agin_!"
+
+The hovel stood so remote from all other habitations, and the waste
+around was so bare of trees, and even shrubs, that Alice saw with
+despair that all hope of flight in such a place would be indeed a
+chimera. But to make assurance doubly sure, Darvil himself, lifting her
+from the cart, conducted her up a broken and unlighted staircase, into a
+sort of loft rather than a room, and, rudely pushing her in, turned the
+key upon her, and descended. The weather was cold, the livid damps hung
+upon the distained walls, and there was neither fire nor hearth; but
+thinly clad as she was--her cloak and shawl her principal covering--she
+did not feel the cold, for her heart was more chilly than the airs of
+heaven. At noon an old woman brought her some food, which, consisting of
+fish and poached game, was better than might have been expected in such
+a place, and what would have been deemed a feast under her father's
+roof. With an inviting leer, the crone pointed to a pewter measure of
+raw spirits that accompanied the viands, and assured her, in a cracked
+and maudlin voice, that "'Old Tom' was a kinder friend than any of the
+young fellers!" This intrusion ended, Alice was again left alone till
+dusk, when Darvil entered with a bundle of clothes, such as are worn by
+the peasants of that primitive district of England.
+
+"There, Alley," said he, "put on this warm toggery; finery won't do now.
+We must leave no scent in the track; the hounds are after us, my little
+blowen. Here's a nice stuff gown for you, and a red cloak that would
+frighten a turkey-cock. As to the other cloak and shawl, don't be
+afraid; they sha'n't go to the pop-shop, but we'll take care of them
+against we get to some large town where there are young fellows with
+blunt in their pockets; for you seem to have already found out that your
+face is your fortune, Alley. Come, make haste, we must be starting.
+I shall come up for you in ten minutes. Pish! don't be faint hearted;
+here, take 'Old Tom'--take it, I say. What, you won't? Well, here's to
+your health, and a better taste to you!"
+
+And now, as the door once more closed upon Darvil, tears for the
+first time came to the relief of Alice. It was a woman's weakness that
+procured for her that woman's luxury. Those garments--they were Ernest's
+gift--Ernest's taste; they were like the last relic of that delicious
+life which now seemed to have fled for ever. All traces of that life--of
+him, the loving, the protecting, the adored; all trace of herself, as
+she had been re-created by love, was to be lost to her for ever. It
+was (as she had read somewhere, in the little elementary volumes that
+bounded her historic lore) like that last fatal ceremony in which those
+condemned for life to the mines of Siberia are clothed with the slave's
+livery, their past name and record eternally blotted out, and thrust
+into the vast wastes, from which even the mercy of despotism, should
+it ever re-awaken, cannot recall them; for all evidence of them--all
+individuality--all mark to distinguish them from the universal herd, is
+expunged from the world's calendar. She was still sobbing in vehement
+and unrestrained passion, when Darvil re-entered. "What, not dressed
+yet?" he exclaimed, in a voice of impatient rage; "hark ye, this won't
+do. If in two minutes you are not ready, I'll send up John Walters to
+help you; and he is a rough hand, I can tell you."
+
+This threat recalled Alice, to herself. "I will do as you wish," said
+she meekly.
+
+"Well, then, be quick," said Darvil; "they are now putting the horse
+to. And mark me, girl, your father is running away from the gallows,
+and that thought does not make a man stand upon scruples. If you once
+attempt to give me the slip, or do or say anything that can bring the
+bulkies upon us--by the devil in hell!--if, indeed, there be hell or
+devil--my knife shall become better acquainted with that throat--so look
+to it!"
+
+And this was the father--this the condition--of her whose ear had for
+months drunk no other sound than the whispers of flattering love--the
+murmurs of Passion from the lips of Poetry.
+
+They continued their journey till midnight; they then arrived at an inn,
+little different from the last; but here Alice was no longer consigned
+to solitude. In a long room, reeking with smoke, sat from twenty to
+thirty ruffians before a table on which mugs and vessels of strong
+potations were formidably interspersed with sabres and pistols. They
+received Walters and Darvil with a shout of welcome, and would have
+crowded somewhat unceremoniously round Alice, if her father, whose
+well-known desperate and brutal ferocity made him a man to be respected
+in such an assembly, had not said, sternly, "Hands off, messmates, and
+make way by the fire for my little girl--she is meat for your masters."
+
+So saying, he pushed Alice down into a huge chair in the chimney-nook,
+and, seating himself near her, at the end of the table, hastened to turn
+the conversation.
+
+"Well, Captain," said he, addressing a small thin man at the head of the
+table, "I and Walters have fairly cut and run--the land has a bad air
+for us, and we now want the sea-breeze to cure the rope fever. So,
+knowing this was your night, we have crowded sail, and here we are.
+You must give the girl there a lift, though I know you don't like such
+lumber, and we'll run ashore as soon as we can."
+
+"She seems a quiet little body," replied the captain; "and we would do
+more than that to oblige an old friend like you. In half an hour Oliver*
+puts on his nightcap, and we must then be off."
+
+* The moon.
+
+"The sooner the better."
+
+The men now appeared to forget the presence of Alice, who sat faint with
+fatigue and exhaustion, for she had been too sick at heart to touch the
+food brought to her at their previous halting-place, gazing abstractedly
+upon the fire. Her father, before their departure, made her swallow
+some morsels of sea-biscuit, though each seemed to choke her; and then,
+wrapped in a thick boat-cloak, she was placed in a small well-built
+cutter; and as the sea-winds whistled round her, the present cold
+and the past fatigues lulled her miserable heart into the arms of the
+charitable Sleep.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+ "You are once more a free woman;
+  Here I discharge your bonds."
+   _The Custom of the Country_.
+
+AND many were thy trials, poor child; many that, were this book to
+germinate into volumes more numerous than monk ever composed upon the
+lives of saint or martyr (though a hundred volumes contained the record
+of two years only in the life of St. Anthony), it would be impossible
+to describe! We may talk of the fidelity of books, but no man ever
+wrote even his own biography without being compelled to omit at least
+nine-tenths of the most important materials. What are three--what six
+volumes? We live six volumes in a day! Thought, emotion, joy, sorrow,
+hope, fear, how prolix would they be if they might each tell their
+hourly tale! But man's life itself is a brief epitome of that which
+is infinite and everlasting; and his most accurate confessions are a
+miserable abridgment of a hurried and confused compendium!
+
+It was about three months, or more, from the night in which Alice wept
+herself to sleep amongst those wild companions, when she contrived to
+escape from her father's vigilant eye. They were then on the coast of
+Ireland. Darvil had separated himself from Walters--from his seafaring
+companions: he had run through the greater part of the money his crimes
+had got together; he began seriously to attempt putting into execution
+his horrible design of depending for support upon the sale of his
+daughter. Now Alice might have been moulded into sinful purposes
+before she knew Maltravers; but from that hour her very error made her
+virtuous--she had comprehended, the moment she loved, what was meant by
+female honour; and by a sudden revelation, she had purchased modesty,
+delicacy of thought and soul, in the sacrifice of herself. Much of our
+morality (prudent and right upon system) with respect to the first false
+step of women, leads us, as we all know, into barbarous errors as to
+individual exceptions. Where, from pure and confiding love, that first
+false step has been taken, many a woman has been saved in after life
+from a thousand temptations. The poor unfortunates who crowd our streets
+and theatres have rarely, in the first instances, been corrupted by
+love; but by poverty, and the contagion of circumstance and example. It
+is a miserable cant phrase to call them the victims of seduction;
+they have been the victims of hunger, of vanity, of curiosity, of evil
+_female_ counsels; but the seduction of love hardly ever conducts to
+a _life_ of vice. If a woman has once really loved, the beloved object
+makes an impenetrable barrier between her and other men; their advances
+terrify and revolt--she would rather die than be unfaithful even to a
+memory. Though man love the sex, woman loves only the individual; and
+the more she loves him, the more cold she is to the species. For the
+passion of woman is in the sentiment--the fancy--the heart. It rarely
+has much to do with the coarse images with which boys and old men--the
+inexperienced and the worn-out--connect it.
+
+But Alice, though her blood ran cold at her terrible father's language,
+saw in his very design the prospect of escape. In an hour of drunkenness
+he thrust her from the house, and stationed himself to watch her--it was
+in the city of Cork. She formed her resolution instantly--turned up a
+narrow street, and fled at full speed. Darvil endeavoured in vain to
+keep pace with her--his eyes dizzy, his steps reeling with intoxication.
+She heard his last curse dying from a distance on the air, and her fear
+winged her steps: she paused at last, and found herself on the outskirts
+of the town. She paused, overcome, and deadly faint; and then, for the
+first time, she felt that a strange and new life was stirring within
+her own. She had long since known that she bore in her womb the unborn
+offspring of Maltravers, and that knowledge had made her struggle and
+live on. But now, the embryo had quickened into being--it moved--it
+appealed to her, a--thing unseen, unknown; but still it was a living
+creature appealing to a mother! Oh, the thrill, half of ineffable
+tenderness, half of mysterious terror, at that moment!--What a new
+chapter in the life of a woman did it not announce:--Now, then, she must
+be watchful over herself--must guard against fatigue--must wrestle with
+despair. Solemn was the trust committed to her--the life of another--the
+child of the Adored. It was a summer night--she sat on a rude stone,
+the city on one side, with its lights and lamps;--the whitened fields
+beyond, with the moon and the stars above; and _above_ she raised her
+streaming eyes, and she thought that God, the Protector, smiled upon her
+from the face of the sweet skies. So, after a pause and a silent prayer,
+she rose and resumed her way. When she was wearied she crept into a shed
+in a farmyard, and slept, for the first time for weeks, the calm sleep
+of security and hope.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ "How like a prodigal doth she return,
+  With over-weathered ribs and ragged sails."
+   _Merchant of Venice_.
+
+ "_Mer._ What are these?
+  _Uncle._ The tenants."
+   BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.--_Wit without Money_.
+
+IT was just two years from the night in which Alice had been torn from
+the cottage: and at that time Maltravers was wandering amongst the ruins
+of ancient Egypt, when, upon the very lawn where Alice and her lover had
+so often loitered hand in hand, a gay party of children and young people
+were assembled. The cottage had been purchased by an opulent and
+retired manufacturer. He had raised the low thatched roof another story
+high--and blue slate had replaced the thatch--and the pretty verandahs
+overgrown with creepers had been taken down because Mrs. Hobbs thought
+they gave the rooms a dull look; and the little rustic doorway had
+been replaced by four Ionic pillars in stucco; and a new dining-room,
+twenty-two feet by eighteen, had been built out at one wing, and a
+new drawing-room had been built over the new dining-room. And the poor
+little cottage looked quite grand and villa-like. The fountain had been
+taken away, because it made the house damp; and there was such a broad
+carriage-drive from the gate to the house! The gate was no longer the
+modest green wooden gate, ever ajar with its easy latch; but a tall,
+cast-iron, well-locked gate, between two pillars to match the porch.
+And on one of the gates was a brass plate, on which was graven, "Hobbs'
+Lodge--Ring the bell." The lesser Hobbses and the bigger Hobbses
+were all on the lawn--many of them fresh from school--for it was the
+half-holiday of a Saturday afternoon. There was mirth, and noise, and
+shouting and whooping, and the respectable old couple looked calmly
+on; Hobbs the father smoking his pipe (alas, it was not the dear
+meerschaum); Hobbs the mother talking to her eldest daughter (a fine
+young woman, three months married, for love, to a poor man), upon the
+proper number of days that a leg of mutton (weight ten pounds) should
+be made to last. "Always, my dear, have large joints, they are much the
+most saving. Let me see--what a noise the boys do make! No, my love, the
+ball's not here."
+
+"Mamma, it is under your petticoats."
+
+"La, child, how naughty you are!"
+
+"Holla, you sir! it's my turn to go in now. Biddy, wait,--girls have no
+innings--girls only fag out."
+
+"Bob, you cheat."
+
+"Pa, Ned says I cheat."
+
+"Very likely, my dear, you are to be a lawyer."
+
+"Where was I, my dear?" resumed Mrs. Hobbs, resettling herself, and
+readjusting the invaded petticoats. "Oh, about the leg of mutton!--yes,
+large joints are the best--the second day a nice hash, with dumplings;
+the third, broil the bone--your husband is sure to like broiled
+bones!--and then keep the scraps for Saturday's pie;--you know, my dear,
+your father and I were worse off than you when we began. But now we have
+everything that is handsome about us--nothing like management. Saturday
+pies are very nice things, and then you start clear with your joint on
+Sunday. A good wife like you should never neglect the Saturday's pie!"
+
+"Yes," said the bride, mournfully; "but Mr. Tiddy does not like pies."
+
+"Not like pies! that very odd--Mr. Hobbs likes pies--perhaps you don't
+have the crust made thick eno'. How somever, you can make it up to him
+with a pudding. A wife should always study her husband's tastes--what is
+a man's home without love? Still a husband ought not to be aggravating,
+and dislike pie on a Saturday!"
+
+"Holla! I say, ma, do you see that 'ere gipsy? I shall go and have my
+fortune told."
+
+"And I--and I!"
+
+"Lor, if there ben't a tramper!" cried Mr. Hobbs, rising indignantly;
+"what can the parish be about?"
+
+The object of these latter remarks, filial and paternal, was a young
+woman in a worn, threadbare cloak, with her face pressed to the openwork
+of the gate, and looking wistfully--oh, how wistfully!--within. The
+children eagerly ran up to her, but they involuntarily slackened their
+steps when they drew near, for she was evidently not what they had taken
+her for. No gipsy hues darkened the pale, thin, delicate cheek--no gipsy
+leer lurked in those large blue and streaming eyes--no gipsy effrontery
+bronzed that candid and childish brow. As she thus pressed her
+countenance with convulsive eagerness against the cold bars, the
+young people caught the contagion of inexpressible and half-fearful
+sadness--they approached almost respectfully--"Do you want anything
+here?" said the eldest and boldest of the boys.
+
+"I--I--surely this is Dale Cottage?"
+
+"It was Dale Cottage, it is Hobbs' Lodge now; can't you read?" said
+the heir of the Hobbs's honours, losing, in contempt at the girl's
+ignorance, his first impression of sympathy.
+
+"And--and--Mr. Butler, is he gone too?"
+
+Poor child! she spoke as if the cottage was gone, not improved; the
+Ionic portico had no charm for her!
+
+"Butler!--no such person lives here. Pa, do you know where Mr. Butler
+lives?"
+
+Pa was now moving up to the place of conference the slow artillery of
+his fair round belly and portly calves. "Butler, no--I know nothing
+of such a name--no Mr. Butler lives here. Go along with you--ain't you
+ashamed to beg?"
+
+"No Mr. Butler!" said the girl, gasping for breath, and clinging to the
+gate for support. "Are you sure, sir?"
+
+"Sure, yes!--what do you want with him?"
+
+"Oh, papa, she looks faint!" said one of the _girls_ deprecatingly--"do
+let her have something to eat; I'm sure she's hungry."
+
+Mr. Hobbs looked angry; he had often been taken in, and no rich man
+likes beggars. Generally speaking, the rich man is in the right. But
+then Mr. Hobbs turned to the suspected tramper's sorrowful face and then
+to his fair pretty child--and his good angel whispered something to Mr.
+Hobbs's heart--and he said, after a pause, "Heaven forbid that we should
+not feel for a poor fellow-creature not so well to do as ourselves. Come
+in, my lass, and have a morsel to eat."
+
+The girl did not seem to hear him, and he repeated the invitation,
+approaching to unlock the gate.
+
+"No, sir," said she, then; "no, I thank you. I could not come in now.
+I could not eat here. But tell me, sir, I implore you, can you not even
+guess where I may find Mr. Butler?"
+
+"Butler!" said Mrs. Hobbs, whom curiosity had now drawn to the spot. "I
+remember that was the name of the gentleman who hired the place, and was
+robbed."
+
+"Robbed!" said Mr. Hobbs, falling back and relocking the gate--"and the
+new tea-pot just come home," he muttered inly. "Come, be off, child--be
+off; we know nothing of your Mr. Butlers."
+
+The young woman looked wildly in his face, cast a hurried glance over
+the altered spot, and then, with a kind of shiver, as if the wind had
+smitten her delicate form too rudely, she drew her cloak more closely
+round her shoulders, and without saying another word, moved away. The
+party looked after her as, with trembling steps, she passed down the
+road, and all felt that pang of shame which is common to the human heart
+at the sight of a distress it has not sought to soothe. But this feeling
+vanished at once from the breast of Mrs. and Mr. Hobbs, when they saw
+the girl stop where a turn of the road brought the gate before her eyes;
+and for the first time, they perceived, what the worn cloak had hitherto
+concealed, that the poor young thing bore an infant in her arms. She
+halted, she gazed fondly back. Even at that instant the despair of her
+eyes was visible; and then, as she pressed her lips to the infant's
+brow, they heard a convulsive sob--they saw her turn away, and she was
+gone!
+
+"Well, I declare!" said Mrs. Hobbs.
+
+"News for the parish," said Mr. Hobbs; "and she so young too!--what a
+shame!"
+
+"The girls about here are very bad nowadays, Jenny," said the mother to
+the bride.
+
+"I see now why she wanted Mr. Butler," quoth Hobbs, with a knowing
+wink--"the slut has come to swear!"
+
+And it was for this that Alice had supported her strength--her
+courage-during the sharp pangs of childbirth; during a severe and
+crushing illness, which for months after her confinement had stretched
+her upon a peasant's bed (the object of the rude but kindly charity
+of an Irish shealing)--for this, day after day, she had whispered to
+herself, "I shall get well, and I will beg my way to the cottage, and
+find him there still, and put my little one into his arms, and all will
+be bright again;"--for this, as soon as she could walk without aid, had
+she set out on foot from the distant land; for this, almost with a dog's
+instinct (for she knew not what way to turn--what county the cottage was
+placed in; she only knew the name of the neighbouring town; and that,
+populous as it was, sounded strange to the ears of those she asked; and
+she had often and often been directed wrong),--for this, I say, almost
+with a dog's faithful instinct, had she, in cold and heat, in hunger and
+in thirst, tracked to her old master's home her desolate and lonely way!
+And thrice had she over-fatigued herself--and thrice again been indebted
+to humble pity for a bed whereon to lay a feverish and broken frame. And
+once, too, her baby--her darling, her life of life, had been ill--had
+been near unto death, and she could not stir till the infant (it was
+a girl) was well again, and could smile in her face and crow. And
+thus many, many months had elapsed, since the day she set out on her
+pilgrimage, to that on which she found its goal. But never, save when
+the child was ill, had she desponded or abated heart and hope. She
+should see him again, and he would kiss her child. And now--no--I cannot
+paint the might of that stunning blow! She knew not, she dreamed not, of
+the kind precautions Maltravers had taken; and he had not sufficiently
+calculated on her thorough ignorance of the world. How could she divine
+that the magistrate, not a mile distant from her, could have told her
+all she sought to know? Could she but have met the gardener--or the old
+woman-servant--all would have been well! These last, indeed, she had
+the forethought to ask for. But the woman was dead, and the gardener
+had taken a strange service in some distant county. And so died her last
+gleam of hope. If one person who remembered the search of Maltravers had
+but met and recognised her! But she had been seen by so few--and now the
+bright, fresh girl was so sadly altered! Her race was not yet run, and
+many a sharp wind upon the mournful seas had the bark to brave before
+its haven was found at last.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+        "Patience and sorrow strove
+  Which should express her goodliest."--SHAKESPEARE.
+
+ "Je _la_ plains, je _la_ blame, et je suis son appui."*-VOLTAIRE.
+
+* I pity her, I blame her, and am her support.
+
+AND now Alice felt that she was on the wide world alone, with her
+child--no longer to be protected, but to protect; and after the first
+few days of agony, a new spirit, not indeed of hope, but of endurance,
+passed within her. Her solitary wanderings, with God her only guide, had
+tended greatly to elevate and confirm her character. She felt a strong
+reliance on His mysterious mercy--she felt, too, the responsibility of
+a mother. Thrown for so many months upon her own resources, even for the
+bread of life, her intellect was unconsciously sharpened, and a habit
+of patient fortitude had strengthened a nature originally clinging and
+femininely soft. She resolved to pass into some other county, for she
+could neither bear the thoughts that haunted the neighbourhood around
+her, nor think, without a loathing horror, of the possibility of her
+father's return. Accordingly, one day, she renewed her wanderings--and
+after a week's travel, arrived at a small village. Charity is so common
+in England, it so spontaneously springs up everywhere, like the good
+seed by the roadside, that she had rarely wanted the bare necessaries of
+existence. And her humble manner, and sweet, well-tuned voice, so free
+from the professional whine of mendicancy, had usually its charm for the
+sternest. So she generally obtained enough to buy bread and a night's
+lodging, and, if sometimes she failed, she could bear hunger, and was
+not afraid of creeping into some shed, or, when by the sea-shore, even
+into some sheltering cavern. Her child throve too--for God tempers the
+wind to the shorn lamb! But now, so far as physical privation went, the
+worst was over.
+
+It so happened that as Alice was drawing herself wearily along to the
+entrance of the village which was to bound her day's journey, she was
+met by a lady, past middle age, in whose countenance compassion was so
+visible, that Alice would not beg, for she had a strange delicacy or
+pride, or whatever it may be called, and rather begged of the stern than
+of those who looked kindly at her--she did not like to lower herself in
+the eyes of the last.
+
+The lady stopped.
+
+"My poor girl, where are you going?"
+
+"Where God pleases, madam," said Alice.
+
+"Humph! and is that your own child?--you are almost a child yourself."
+
+"It is mine, madam," said Alice, gazing fondly at the infant; "it is my
+all!"
+
+The lady's voice faltered. "Are you married?" she asked.
+
+"Married!--Oh, no, madam!" replied Alice, innocently, yet without
+blushing, for she never knew that she had done wrong in loving
+Maltravers.
+
+The lady drew gently back, but not in horror--no, in still deeper
+compassion; for that lady had virtue, and she knew that the faults of
+her sex are sufficiently punished to permit Virtue to pity them without
+a sin.
+
+"I am sorry for it," she said, however, with greater gravity. "Are you
+travelling to seek the father?"
+
+"Ah, madam! I shall never see him again!" And Alice wept.
+
+"What!--he has abandoned you--so young, so beautiful!" added the lady to
+herself.
+
+"Abandoned me!--no, madam; but it is a long tale. Good evening--I thank
+you kindly for your pity."
+
+The lady's eyes ran over.
+
+"Stay," said she; "tell me frankly where you are going, and what is your
+object."
+
+"Alas! madam, I am going anywhere, for I have no home; but I wish to
+live, and work for my living, in order that my child may not want for
+anything. I wish I could maintain myself--he used to say I could."
+
+"He!--your language and manner are not those of a peasant. What can you
+do? What do you know?"
+
+"Music, and work, and--and--"
+
+"Music!--this is strange! What were your parents?"
+
+Alice shuddered, and hid her face with her hands.
+
+The lady's interest was now fairly warmed in her behalf.
+
+"She has sinned," said she to herself; "but at that age, how can one be
+harsh? She must not be thrown upon the world to make sin a habit.
+Follow me," she said, after a little pause; "and think you have found a
+friend."
+
+The lady then turned from the high-road down a green lane which led to a
+park lodge. This lodge she entered; and after a short conversation with
+the inmate, beckoned to Alice to join her.
+
+"Janet," said Alice's new protector to a comely and pleasant-eyed
+woman, "this is the young person--you will show her and the infant every
+attention. I shall send down proper clothing for her to-morrow, and I
+shall then have thought what will be best for her future welfare."
+
+With that the lady smiled benignly upon Alice, whose heart was too full
+to speak; and the door of the cottage closed upon her, and Alice thought
+the day had grown darker.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+ "Believe me, she has won me much to pity her.
+  Alas! her gentle nature was not made
+  To buffet with adversity."--ROWE.
+
+ "Sober he was, and grave from early youth,
+  Mindful of forms, but more intent on truth;
+  In a light drab he uniformly dress'd,
+  And look serene th' unruffled mind express'd.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ "Yet might observers in his sparkling eye
+  Some observation, some acuteness spy
+  The friendly thought it keen, the treacherous deem'd it sly;
+  Yet not a crime could foe or friend detect,
+  His actions all were like his speech correct--
+  Chaste, sober, solemn, and devout they named
+  Him who was this, and not of this ashamed."--CRABBE.
+
+ "I'll on and sound this secret."--BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
+
+MRS. LESLIE, the lady introduced to the reader in the last chapter, was
+a woman of the firmest intellect combined (no unusual combination) with
+the softest heart. She learned Alice's history with admiration and
+pity. The natural innocence and honesty of the young mother spoke so
+eloquently in her words and looks, that Mrs. Leslie, on hearing her
+tale, found much less to forgive than she had anticipated. Still she
+deemed it necessary to enlighten Alice as to the criminality of the
+connection she had formed. But here Alice was singularly dull--she
+listened in meek patience to Mrs. Leslie's lecture; but it evidently
+made but slight impression on her. She had not yet seen enough of the
+social state to correct the first impressions of the natural: and all
+she could say in answer to Mrs. Leslie was: "It may be all very true,
+madam, but I have been so much better since I knew him!"
+
+But though Alice took humbly any censure upon herself, she would not
+hear a syllable insinuated against Maltravers. When, in a very natural
+indignation, Mrs. Leslie denounced him as a destroyer of innocence--for
+Mrs. Leslie could not learn all that extenuated his offence--Alice
+started up with flashing eyes and heaving heart, and would have hurried
+from the only shelter she had in the wide world--she would sooner have
+died--she would sooner even have seen her child die, than done that
+idol of her soul, who, in her eyes, stood alone on some pinnacle between
+earth and heaven, the wrong of hearing him reviled. With difficulty Mrs.
+Leslie could restrain, with still more difficulty could she pacify and
+soothe her; and for the girl's petulance, which others might have deemed
+insolent or ungrateful, the woman-heart of Mrs. Leslie loved her all
+the better. The more she saw of Alice, and the more she comprehended her
+story and her character, the more was she lost in wonder at the romance
+of which this beautiful child had been the heroine, and the more
+perplexed she was as to Alice's future prospects.
+
+At length, however, when she became acquainted with Alice's musical
+acquirements, which were, indeed, of no common order, a light broke in
+upon her. Here was the source of her future independence. Maltravers, it
+will be remembered, was a musician of consummate skill as well as taste,
+and Alice's natural talent for the art had advanced her, in the space
+of months, to a degree of perfection which it cost others--which it had
+cost even the quick Maltravers--years to obtain. But we learn so rapidly
+when our teachers are those we love: and it may be observed that the
+less our knowledge, the less perhaps our genius in other things, the
+more facile are our attainments in music, which is a very jealous
+mistress of the mind. Mrs. Leslie resolved to have her perfected in this
+art, and so enable her to become a teacher to others. In the town of
+C------, about thirty miles from Mrs. Leslie's house, though in the same
+county, there was no inconsiderable circle of wealthy and intelligent
+persons; for it was a cathedral town, and the resident clergy drew
+around them a kind of provincial aristocracy. Here, as in most rural
+towns in England, music was much cultivated, both among the higher
+and middle classes. There were amateur concerts, and glee-clubs, and
+subscriptions for sacred music; and once every five years there was the
+great C------ Festival. In this town Mrs. Leslie established Alice: she
+placed her under the roof of a _ci-devant_ music-master, who, having
+retired from his profession, was no longer jealous of rivals, but who,
+by handsome terms, was induced to complete the education of Alice. It
+was an eligible and comfortable abode, and the music-master and his wife
+were a good-natured easy old couple.
+
+Three months of resolute and unceasing perseverance, combined with the
+singular ductility and native gifts of Alice, sufficed to render her
+the most promising pupil the good musician had ever accomplished; and in
+three months more, introduced by Mrs. Leslie to many of the families in
+the place, Alice was established in a home of her own; and, what with
+regular lessons, and occasional assistance at musical parties, she
+was fairly earning what her tutor reasonably pronounced to be "a very
+genteel independence."
+
+Now, in these arrangements (for we must here go back a little), there
+had been one gigantic difficulty of conscience in one party, of feeling
+in another, to surmount. Mrs. Leslie saw at once that unless Alice's
+misfortune was concealed, all the virtues and all the talents in the
+world could not enable her to retrace the one false step. Mrs. Leslie
+was a woman of habitual truth and strict rectitude, and she was sorely
+perplexed between the propriety of candour and its cruelty. She felt
+unequal to take the responsibility of action on herself; and, after much
+meditation, she resolved to confide her scruples to one who, of all whom
+she knew, possessed the highest character for moral worth and religious
+sanctity. This gentleman, lately a widower, lived at the outskirts
+of the town selected for Alice's future residence, and at that time
+happened to be on a visit in Mrs. Leslie's neighbourhood. He was an
+opulent man, a banker; he had once represented the town in parliament,
+and retiring, from disinclination to the late hours and onerous fatigues
+even of an unreformed House of Commons, he still possessed an influence
+to return one, if not both, of the members for the city of C------. And
+that influence was always exerted so as best to secure his own interest
+with the powers that be, and advance certain objects of ambition (for
+he was both an ostentatious and ambitious man in his own way), which
+he felt he might more easily obtain by proxy than by his own votes and
+voice in parliament--an atmosphere in which his light did not shine.
+And it was with a wonderful address that the banker contrived at once to
+support the government, and yet, by the frequent expression of
+liberal opinions, to conciliate the Whigs and the Dissenters of his
+neighbourhood. Parties, political and sectarian, were not then so
+irreconcilable as they are now. In the whole county there was no one
+so respected as this eminent person, and yet he possessed no shining
+talents, though a laborious and energetic man of business. It was solely
+and wholly the force of moral character which gave him his position in
+society. He felt this; he was sensitively proud of it; he was painfully
+anxious not to lose an atom of a distinction that required to be
+vigilantly secured. He was a very _remarkable_, yet not (perhaps could
+we penetrate all hearts), a very _uncommon_ character--this banker!
+He had risen from, comparatively speaking, a low origin and humble
+fortunes, and entirely by the scrupulous and sedate propriety of his
+outward conduct. With such a propriety he, therefore, inseparably
+connected every notion of worldly prosperity and honour. Thus, though
+far from a bad man, he was forced into being something of a hypocrite.
+Every year he had grown more starch and more saintly. He was
+conscience-keeper to the whole town; and it is astonishing how many
+persons hardly dared to make a will or subscribe to a charity without
+his advice. As he was a shrewd man of this world, as well as an
+accredited guide to the next, his advice was precisely of a nature
+to reconcile the Conscience and the Interest; and he was a kind of
+negotiator in the reciprocal diplomacy of earth and heaven. But our
+banker was really a charitable man, and a benevolent man, and a sincere
+believer. How, then, was he a hypocrite? Simply because he professed to
+be far _more_ charitable, _more_ benevolent, and _more_ pious than he
+really was. His reputation had now arrived to that degree of immaculate
+polish that the smallest breath, which would not have tarnished the
+character of another man, would have fixed an indelible stain upon his.
+As he affected to be more strict than the churchman, and was a great
+oracle with all who regarded churchmen as lukewarm, so his conduct was
+narrowly watched by all the clergy of the orthodox cathedral, good men,
+doubtless, but not affecting to be saints, who were jealous at being so
+luminously outshone by a layman and an authority of the sectarians. On
+the other hand, the intense homage and almost worship he received from
+his followers kept his goodness upon a stretch, if not beyond all human
+power, certainly beyond his own. For "admiration" (as it is well said
+somewhere) "is a kind of superstition which expects miracles." From
+nature this gentleman had received an inordinate share of animal
+propensities: he had strong passions, he was by temperament a
+sensualist. He loved good eating and good wine--he loved women. The
+two former blessings of the carnal life are not incompatible with
+canonisation; but St. Anthony has shown that women, however angelic, are
+not precisely that order of angels that saints may safely commune with.
+If, therefore, he ever yielded to temptations of a sexual nature, it was
+with profound secrecy and caution; nor did his right hand know what his
+left hand did.
+
+This gentleman had married a woman much older than himself, but her
+fortune had been one of the necessary stepping-stones in his career. His
+exemplary conduct towards this lady, ugly as well as old, had done much
+towards increasing the odour of his sanctity. She died of an ague, and
+the widower did not shock probabilities by affecting too severe a grief.
+
+"The Lord's will be done!" said he; "she was a good woman, but we should
+not set our affections too much upon His perishable creatures!"
+
+This was all he was ever heard to say on the matter. He took an elderly
+gentlewoman, distantly related to him, to manage his house, and sit at
+the head of the table; and it was thought not impossible, though the
+widower was past fifty, that he might marry again.
+
+Such was the gentleman called in by Mrs. Leslie, who, of the same
+religious opinions, had long known and revered him, to decide the
+affairs of Alice and of Conscience.
+
+As this man exercised no slight or fugitive influence over Alice
+Darvil's destinies, his counsels on the point in discussion ought to be
+fairly related.
+
+"And now," said Mrs. Leslie, concluding the history, "you will perceive,
+my dear sir, that this poor young creature has been less culpable than
+she appears. From the extraordinary proficiency she has made in music,
+in a time that, by her own account, seems incredibly short; I
+should suspect her unprincipled betrayer must have been an artist--a
+professional man. It is just possible that they may meet again, and (as
+the ranks between them cannot be so very disproportionate) that he may
+marry her. I am sure that he could not do a better or a wiser thing, for
+she loves him too fondly, despite her wrongs. Under these circumstances,
+would it be a--a--a culpable disguise of truth to represent her as a
+married woman--separated from her husband--and give her the name of her
+seducer? Without such a precaution you will see, sir, that all hope
+of settling her reputably in life--all chance of procuring her any
+creditable independence, is out of the question. Such is my dilemma.
+What is your advice?--palatable or not, I shall abide by it."
+
+The banker's grave and saturnine countenance exhibited a slight degree
+of embarrassment at the case submitted to him. He began brushing away,
+with the cuff of his black coat, some atoms of dust that had settled
+on his drab small-clothes; and, after a slight pause, he replied, "Why,
+really, dear madam, the question is one of much delicacy--I doubt if
+men could be good judges upon it; your sex's tact and instinct on these
+matters are better--much better than our sagacity. There is much in the
+dictates of your own heart; for to those who are in the grace of the
+Lord He vouchsafes to communicate His pleasure by spiritual hints and
+inward suggestions!"
+
+"If so, my dear sir, the matter is decided; for my heart whispers me
+that this slight deviation from truth would be a less culpable offence
+than turning so young and, I had almost said, so innocent a creature
+adrift upon the world. I may take your opinion as my sanction."
+
+"Why, really, I can scarcely say so much as that," said the banker, with
+a slight smile. "A deviation from truth cannot be incurred without some
+forfeiture of strict duty."
+
+"Not in any case? Alas, I was afraid so!" said Mrs. Leslie,
+despondingly.
+
+"In any case! Oh, there _may_ be cases! But had I not better see the
+young woman, and ascertain that your benevolent heart has not deceived
+you?"
+
+"I wish you would," said Mrs. Leslie; "she is now in the house. I will
+ring for her."
+
+"Should we not be alone?"
+
+"Certainly; I will leave you together."
+
+Alice was sent for, and appeared.
+
+"This pious gentleman," said Mrs. Leslie, "will confer with you for a
+few moments, my child. Do not be afraid; he is the best of men." With
+these words of encouragement the good lady vanished, and Alice saw
+before her a tall dark man, with a head bald in front, yet larger behind
+than before, with spectacles upon a pair of shrewd, penetrating eyes,
+and an outline of countenance that showed he must have been handsome in
+earlier manhood.
+
+"My young friend," said the banker, seating himself, after a deliberate
+survey of the fair countenance that blushed beneath his gaze, "Mrs.
+Leslie and myself have been conferring upon your temporal welfare. You
+have been unfortunate, my child."
+
+"Ah--yes."
+
+"Well, well, you are very young; we must not be too severe upon youth.
+You will never do so again?"
+
+"Do what, please you, sir?"
+
+"What! Humph! I mean that you will be more rigid, more circumspect. Men
+are deceitful; you must be on your guard against them. You are handsome,
+child, very handsome--more's the pity." And the banker took Alice's hand
+and pressed it with great unction. Alice looked at him gravely and drew
+the hand away instinctively.
+
+The banker lowered his spectacles, and gazed at her without their aid;
+his eyes were still fine and expressive. "What is your name?" he asked.
+
+"Alice--Alice Darvil, sir."
+
+"Well, Alice, we have been considering what is best for you. You wish to
+earn your own livelihood, and perhaps marry some honest man hereafter."
+
+"Marry, sir--never!" said Alice, with great earnestness, her eyes
+filling with tears.
+
+"And why?"
+
+"Because I shall never see _him_ on earth, and they do not marry in
+heaven, sir."
+
+The banker was moved, for he was not worse than his neighbours, though
+trying to make them believe he was so much better.
+
+"Well, time enough to talk of that; but in the meanwhile you would
+support yourself?"
+
+"Yes, sir. His child ought to be a burden to none--nor I either. I once
+wished to die, but then who would love my little one? Now I wish to
+live."
+
+"But what mode of livelihood would you prefer? Would you go into a
+family, in some capacity?--not that of a servant--you are too delicate
+for that."
+
+"Oh, no--no!"
+
+"But, again, why?" asked the banker, soothingly, yet surprised.
+
+"Because," said Alice, almost solemnly, "there are some hours when I
+feel I must be alone. I sometimes think I am not all right _here_,"
+and she touched her forehead. "They called me an idiot before I knew
+_him_!--No, I could not live with others, for I can only cry when nobody
+but my child is with me."
+
+This was said with such unconscious, and therefore with such pathetic,
+simplicity, that the banker was sensibly affected. He rose, stirred the
+fire, resettled himself, and, after a pause, said emphatically: "Alice,
+I will be your friend. Let me believe you will deserve it."
+
+Alice bent her graceful head, and seeing that he had sunk into an
+abstracted silence, she thought it time for her to withdraw.
+
+"She is, indeed, beautiful," said the banker, almost aloud, when he was
+alone; "and the old lady is right--she is as innocent as if she had not
+fallen. I wonder--" Here he stopped short, and walked to the glass over
+the mantelpiece, where he was still gazing on his own features, when
+Mrs. Leslie returned.
+
+"Well, sir," said she, a little surprised at this seeming vanity in so
+pious a man.
+
+The banker started. "Madam, I honour your penetration as much as your
+charity; I think that there is so much to be feared in letting all
+the world know this young female's past error, that, though I dare not
+advise, I cannot blame, your concealment of it."
+
+"But, sir, your words have sunk deep into my thoughts; you said every
+deviation from truth was a forfeiture of duty."
+
+"Certainly; but there are some exceptions. The world is a bad world, we
+are born in sin; and the children of wrath. We do not tell infants all
+the truth, when they ask us questions, the proper answers of which would
+mislead, not enlighten them. In some things the whole world are infants.
+The very science of government is the science of concealing truth--so
+is the system of trade. We could not blame the tradesman for not telling
+the public that if all his debts were called in he would be a bankrupt."
+
+"And he may marry her after all--this Mr. Butler."
+
+"Heaven forbid--the villain!--Well, madam, I will see to this poor young
+thing--she shall not want a guide."
+
+"Heaven reward you! How wicked some people are to call you severe!"
+
+"I can bear _that_ blame with a meek temper, madam. Good day."
+
+"Good day. You will remember how strictly confidential has been our
+conversation."
+
+"Not a breath shall transpire. I will send you some tracts to-morrow--so
+comforting. Heaven bless you!"
+
+This difficulty smoothed, Mrs. Leslie, to her astonishment, found that
+she had another to contend with in Alice herself. For, first, Alice
+conceived that to change her name and keep her secret was to confess
+that she ought to be ashamed, rather than proud, of her love to Ernest,
+and she thought that so ungrateful to him!--and, secondly, to take his
+name, to pass for his wife--what presumption--he would certainly have a
+right to be offended! At these scruples Mrs. Leslie well-nigh lost all
+patience; and the banker, to his own surprise, was again called in. We
+have said that he was an experienced and skilful adviser, which implies
+the faculty of persuasion. He soon saw the handle by which Alice's
+obstinacy might always be moved--her little girl's welfare. He put this
+so forcibly before her eyes; he represented the child's future fate as
+resting so much, not only on her own good conduct, but on her outward
+respectability, that he prevailed upon her at last; and, perhaps, one
+argument that he incidentally used, had as much effect on her as
+the rest. "This Mr. Butler, if yet in England, may pass through our
+town--may visit amongst us--may hear you spoken of by a name similar to
+his own, and curiosity would thus induce him to seek you. Take his name,
+and you will always bear an honourable index to your mutual discovery
+and recognition. Besides, when you are respectable, honoured, and
+earning an independence, he may not be too proud to marry you. But take
+your own name, avow your own history, and not only will your child be
+an outcast, yourself a beggar, or, at best, a menial dependant, but
+you lose every hope of recovering the object of your too-devoted
+attachment."
+
+Thus Alice was convinced. From that time she became close and
+reserved in her communications. Mrs. Leslie had wisely selected a town
+sufficiently remote from her own abode to preclude any revelations of
+her domestics; and, as Mrs. Butler, Alice attracted universal sympathy
+and respect from the exercise of her talents, the modest sweetness of
+her manners, the unblemished propriety of her conduct. Somehow or other,
+no sooner did she learn the philosophy of concealment than she made a
+great leap in knowledge of the world. And, though flattered and courted
+by the young loungers of C------, she steered her course with so much
+address that she was never persecuted. For there are few men in the
+world who make advances where there is no encouragement.
+
+The banker observed her conduct with silent vigilance. He met her often,
+he visited her often. He was intimate at houses where she attended to
+teach or perform. He lent her good books--he advised her--he preached
+to her. Alice began to look up to him--to like him--to consider him as a
+village girl in Catholic countries may consider a benevolent and kindly
+priest. And he--what was his object?--at that time it is impossible to
+guess:--he became thoughtful and abstracted.
+
+One day an old maid and an old clergyman met in the High Street of
+C------.
+
+"And how do you do, ma'am?" said the clergyman; "how is the rheumatism?"
+
+"Better, thank you, sir. Any news?"
+
+The clergyman smiled, and something hovered on his lips, which he
+suppressed.
+
+"Were you," the old maid resumed, "at Mrs. Macnab's last night? Charming
+music?"
+
+"Charming! How pretty that Mrs. Butler is! and how humble! Knows her
+station--so unlike professional people."
+
+"Yes, indeed!--What attention a certain banker paid her!"
+
+"He! he! he! yes; he is very fatherly--very!"
+
+"Perhaps he will marry again; he is always talking of the holy state
+of matrimony--a holy state it may be--but Heaven knows, his wife, poor
+woman, did not make it a pleasant one."
+
+"There may be more causes for that than we guess of," said the
+clergyman, mysteriously. "I would not be uncharitable, but--"
+
+"But what?"
+
+"Oh, when he was young, our great man was not so correct, I fancy, as he
+is now."
+
+"So I have heard it whispered; but nothing against him was ever known."
+
+"Hem--it is very odd!"
+
+"What's very odd?"
+
+"Why, but it's a secret--I dare say it's all very right."
+
+"Oh, I sha'n't say a word. Are you going to the cathedral?--don't let me
+keep you standing. Now, pray proceed!"
+
+"Well, then, yesterday I was doing duty in a village more than twenty
+miles hence, and I loitered in the village to take an early dinner; and,
+afterwards, while my horse was feeding, I strolled down the green."
+
+"Well--well?"
+
+"And I saw a gentleman muffled carefully up, with his hat slouched over
+his face, at the door of a cottage, with a little child in his arms,
+and he kissed it more fondly than, be we ever so good, we generally kiss
+other people's children; and then he gave it to a peasant woman standing
+near him, and mounted his horse, which was tied to the gate, and trotted
+past me; and who do you think this was?"
+
+"Patience me--I can't guess!"
+
+"Why, our saintly banker. I bowed to him, and I assure you he turned as
+red, ma'am, as your waistband."
+
+"My!"
+
+"I just turned into the cottage when he was out of sight, for I was
+thirsty, and asked for a glass of water, and I saw the child. I declare
+I would not be uncharitable, but I thought it monstrous like--you know
+whom!"
+
+"Gracious! you don't say--"
+
+"I asked the woman 'if it was hers?' and she said 'No,' but was very
+short."
+
+"Dear me, I must find this out! What is the name of the village?"
+
+"Covedale."
+
+"Oh, I know--I know."
+
+"Not a word of this; I dare say there is nothing in it. But I am not
+much in favour of your new lights."
+
+"Nor I neither. What better than the good old Church of England?"
+
+"Madam, your sentiments do you honour; you'll be sure not to say
+anything of our little mystery."
+
+"Not a syllable."
+
+Two days after this three old maids made an excursion to the village of
+Covedale, and lo! the cottage in question was shut up--the woman and the
+child were gone. The people in the village knew nothing about them--had
+seen nothing particular in the woman or child--had always supposed
+them mother and daughter; and the gentleman identified by the clerical
+inquisitor with the banker had never but once been observed in the
+place.
+
+"The vile old parson," said the eldest of the old maids, "to take away
+so good a man's character!--and the fly will cost one pound two, with
+the baiting!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+ "In this disposition was I, when looking out of my window one
+  day to take the air, I perceived a kind of peasant who looked
+  at me very attentively."--GIL BLAS.
+
+A SUMMER'S evening in a retired country town has something melancholy
+in it. You have the streets of a metropolis without their animated
+bustle--you have the stillness of the country without its birds and
+flowers. The reader will please to bring before him a quiet street in
+the quiet country town of C------, in a quiet evening in quiet June; the
+picture is not mirthful--two young dogs are playing in the street, one
+old dog is watching by a newly-painted door. A few ladies of middle age
+move noiselessly along the pavement, returning home to tea: they wear
+white muslin dresses, green spencers a little faded, straw poke bonnets
+with green or coffee-coloured gauze veils. By twos and threes they have
+disappeared within the thresholds of small neat houses, with little
+railings, inclosing little green plots. Threshold, house, railing, and
+plot, each as like to the other as are those small commodities called
+"nest-tables," which, "even as a broken mirror multiplies," summon to
+the bewildered eye countless iterations of one four-legged individual.
+Paradise Place was a set of nest houses.
+
+A cow had passed through the streets with a milkwoman behind; two young
+and gay shopmen "looking after the gals," had reconnoitred the street,
+and vanished in despair. The twilight advanced--but gently; and though a
+star or two were up, the air was still clear. At the open window of one
+of the tenements in this street sat Alice Darvil. She had been working
+(that pretty excuse to women for thinking), and as the thoughts grew
+upon her, and the evening waned, the work had fallen upon her knee,
+and her hands dropped mechanically on her lap. Her profile was turned
+towards the street; but without moving her head or changing her
+attitude, her eyes glanced from time to time to her little girl, who
+nestled on the ground beside her, tired with play; and wondering,
+perhaps, why she was not already in bed, seemed as tranquil as the young
+mother herself. And sometimes Alice's eyes filled with tears--and
+then she sighed, as if to sigh the tears away. But poor Alice, if she
+grieved, hers was now a silent and a patient grief.
+
+The street was deserted of all other passengers, when a man passed along
+the pavement on the side opposite to Alice's house. His garb was rude
+and homely, between that of a labourer and a farmer; but still there
+was an affectation of tawdry show about the bright scarlet handkerchief,
+tied, in a sailor or smuggler fashion, round the sinewy throat; the
+hat was set jauntily on one side, and, dangling many an inch from
+the gaily-striped waistcoat, glittered a watch-chain and seals, which
+appeared suspiciously out of character with the rest of his attire.
+The passenger was covered with dust; and as the street was in a suburb
+communicating with the high-road, and formed one of the entrances
+into the town, he had probably, after long day's journey, reached
+his evening's destination. The looks of this stranger wore anxious,
+restless, and perturbed. In his gait and swagger there was the
+recklessness of the professional blackguard; but in his vigilant,
+prying, suspicious eyes there was a hang-dog expression of apprehension
+and fear. He seemed a man upon whom Crime had set its significant
+mark--and who saw a purse with one eye and a gibbet with the other.
+Alice did not note the stranger, until she herself had attracted and
+centred all his attention. He halted abruptly as he caught a view of her
+face--shaded his eyes with his hands as if to gaze more intently--and
+at length burst into an exclamation of surprise and pleasure. At
+that instant Alice turned, and her gaze met that of the stranger. The
+fascination of the basilisk can scarcely more stun and paralyse its
+victim than the look of this stranger charmed, with the appalling
+glamoury of horror, the eye and soul of Alice Darvil. Her face became
+suddenly locked and rigid, her lips as white as marble, her eyes almost
+started from their sockets--she pressed her hands convulsively together,
+and shuddered--but still she did not move. The man nodded, and grinned,
+and then, deliberately crossing the street, gained the door, and knocked
+loudly. Still Alice did not stir--her senses seemed to have forsaken
+her. Presently the stranger's loud, rough voice was heard below, in
+answer to the accents of the solitary woman-servant whom Alice kept in
+her employ; and his strong, heavy tread made the slight staircase creak
+and tremble. Then Alice rose as by an instinct, caught her child in her
+arms, and stood erect and motionless facing the door. It opened--and the
+FATHER and DAUGHTER were once more face to face within the same walls.
+
+"Well, Alley, how are you, my blowen?--glad to see your old dad again,
+I'll be sworn. No ceremony, sit down. Ha, ha! snug here--very snug--we
+shall live together charmingly. Trade on your own account--eh?
+sly!--well, can't desert your poor old father. Let's have something to
+eat and drink."
+
+So saying, Darvil threw himself at length upon the neat, prim little
+chintz sofa, with the air of a man resolved to make himself perfectly at
+home.
+
+Alice gazed, and trembled violently, but still said nothing--the power
+of voice had indeed left her.
+
+"Come, why don't you stir your stumps? I suppose I must wait on
+myself--fine manners!--But, ho, ho--a bell, by gosh--mighty grand--never
+mind--I am used to call for my own wants."
+
+A hearty tug at the frail bell-rope sent a shrill alarum half-way
+through the long lath-and-plaster row of Paradise Place, and left the
+instrument of the sound in the hand of its creator.
+
+Up came the maid-servant, a formal old woman, most respectable.
+
+"Hark ye, old girl!" said Darvil; "bring up the best you have to
+eat--not particular--let there be plenty. And I say--a bottle of brandy.
+Come, don't stand there staring like a stuck pig. Budge! Hell and
+furies! don't you hear me?"
+
+The servant retreated, as if a pistol had been put to her head, and
+Darvil, laughing loud, threw himself again upon the sofa. Alice looked
+at him, and, still without saying a word, glided from the room--her
+child in her arms. She hurried down-stairs, and in the hall met her
+servant. The latter, who was much attached to her mistress, was alarmed
+to see her about to leave the house.
+
+"Why, marm, where be you going? Dear heart, you have no bonnet on! What
+is the matter? Who is this?"
+
+"Oh!" cried Alice, in agony; "what shall I do?--where shall I fly?" The
+door above opened. Alice heard, started, and the next moment was in
+the street. She ran on breathlessly, and like one insane. Her mind was,
+indeed, for the time, gone; and had a river flowed before her way, she
+would have plunged into an escape from a world that seemed too narrow to
+hold a father and his child.
+
+But just as she turned the corner of a street that led into the more
+public thoroughfares, she felt her arm grasped, and a voice called out
+her name in surprised and startled accents.
+
+"Heavens, Mrs. Butler! Alice! What do I see? What is the matter?"
+
+"Oh, sir, save me!--you are a good man--a great man--save me--he is
+returned!"
+
+"He! who? Mr. Butler?" said the banker (for that gentleman it was) in a
+changed and trembling voice.
+
+"No, no--ah, not he!--I did not say _he_--I said my father--my,
+my--ah--look behind--look behind--is he coming?"
+
+"Calm yourself, my dear young friend--no one is near. I will go and
+reason with your father. No one shall harm you--I will protect you. Go
+back--go back, I will follow--we must not be seen together." And the
+tall banker seemed trying to shrink into a nutshell.
+
+"No, no," said Alice, growing yet paler, "I cannot go back."
+
+"Well, then, just follow me to the door--your servant shall get you your
+bonnet, and accompany you to my house, where you can wait till I
+return. Meanwhile I will see your father, and rid you, I trust, of his
+presence."
+
+The banker, who spoke in a very hurried and even impatient voice, waited
+for no reply, but took his way to Alice's house. Alice herself did not
+follow, but remained in the very place where she was left, till joined
+by her servant, who then conducted her to the rich man's residence...
+But Alice's mind had not recovered its shock, and her thoughts wandered
+alarmingly.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+ "_Miramont._--Do they chafe roundly?
+  _Andrew._--As they were rubbed with soap, sir,
+  And now they swear aloud, now calm again
+  Like a ring of bells, whose sound the wind still utters,
+  And then they sit in council what to do,
+  And then they jar again what shall be done?"
+   BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
+
+OH! what a picture of human nature it was when the banker and the
+vagabond sat together in that little drawing-room, facing each
+other,--one in the armchair, one on the sofa! Darvil was still employed
+on some cold meat, and was making wry faces at the very indifferent
+brandy which he had frightened the formal old servant into buying at
+the nearest public-house; and opposite sat the respectable--highly
+respectable man of forms and ceremonies, of decencies and quackeries,
+gazing gravely upon this low, daredevil ruffian:--the well-to-do
+hypocrite--the penniless villain;--the man who had everything to
+lose--the man who had nothing in the wide world but his own mischievous,
+rascally life, a gold watch, chain and seals, which he had stolen the
+day before, and thirteen shillings and threepence halfpenny in his left
+breeches pocket!
+
+The man of wealth was by no means well acquainted with the nature of
+the beast before him. He had heard from Mrs. Leslie (as we remember)
+the outline of Alice's history, and ascertained that their joint
+_protegee's_ father was a great blackguard; but he expected to find Mr.
+Darvil a mere dull, brutish villain--a peasant-ruffian--a blunt serf,
+without brains, or their substitute, effrontery. But Luke Darvil was a
+clever, half-educated fellow: he did not sin from ignorance, but had wit
+enough to have bad principles, and he was as impudent as if he had lived
+all his life in the best society. He was not frightened at the banker's
+drab breeches and imposing air--not he! The Duke of Wellington would not
+have frightened Luke Darvil, unless his grace had had the constables for
+his _aides-de-camp_.
+
+The banker, to use a homely phrase, was "taken aback."
+
+"Look you here, Mr. What's-your-name!" said Darvil, swallowing a glass
+of the raw alcohol as if it had been water--"look you now--you can't
+humbug me. What the devil do you care about my daughter's respectability
+or comfort, or anything else, grave old dog as you are! It is my
+daughter herself you are licking your brown old chaps at!--and, 'faith,
+my Alley is a very pretty girl--very--but queer as moonshine. You'll
+drive a much better bargain with me than with her."
+
+The banker coloured scarlet--he bit his lips and measured his companion
+from head to foot (while the latter lolled on the sofa), as if he were
+meditating the possibility of kicking him down-stairs. But Luke Darvil
+would have thrashed the banker and all his clerks into the bargain. His
+frame was like a trunk of thews and muscles, packed up by that careful
+dame, Nature, as tightly as possible; and a prizefighter would have
+thought twice before he had entered the ring against so awkward a
+customer. The banker was a man prudent to a fault, and he pushed his
+chair six inches back, as he concluded his survey.
+
+"Sir," then said he, very quietly, "do not let us misunderstand each
+other. Your daughter is safe from your control--if you molest her, the
+law will protect--"
+
+"She is not of age," said Darvil. "Your health, old boy."
+
+"Whether she is of age or not," returned the banker, unheeding the
+courtesy conveyed in the last sentence, "I do not care three straws--I
+know enough of the law to know that if she have rich friends in this
+town, and you have none, she will be protected and you will go to the
+treadmill."
+
+"That is spoken like a sensible man," said Darvil, for the first time
+with a show of respect in his manner; "you now take a practical view of
+matters, as we used to say at the spouting-club."
+
+"If I were in your situation, Mr. Darvil, I tell you what I would do.
+I would leave my daughter and this town to-morrow morning, and I would
+promise never to return, and never to molest her, on condition she
+allowed me a certain sum from her earnings, paid quarterly."
+
+"And if I preferred living with her?"
+
+"In that case, I, as a magistrate of this town, would have you sent away
+as a vagrant, or apprehended--"
+
+"Ha!"
+
+"Apprehended on suspicion of stealing that gold chain and seals which
+you wear so ostentatiously."
+
+"By goles, but you're a clever fellow," said Darvil, involuntarily; "you
+know human natur."
+
+The banker smiled: strange to say, he was pleased with the compliment.
+
+"But," resumed Darvil, helping himself to another slice of beef, "you
+are in the wrong box--planted in Queer Street, as _we_ say in London;
+for if you care a d--n about my daughter's respectability, you will
+never muzzle her father on suspicion of theft--and so there's tit for
+tat, my old gentleman!"
+
+"I shall deny that you are her father, Mr. Darvil; and I think you will
+find it hard to prove the fact in any town where I am a magistrate."
+
+"By goles, what a good prig you would have made! You are as sharp as a
+gimlet. Surely you were brought up at the Old Bailey!"
+
+"Mr. Darvil, be ruled. You seem a man not deaf to reason, and I ask
+you whether, in any town in this country, a poor man in suspicious
+circumstances can do anything against a rich man whose character is
+established? Perhaps you are right in the main: I have nothing to do
+with that. But I tell you that you shall quit this house in half an
+hour--that you shall never enter it again but at your peril; and if you
+do--within ten minutes from that time you shall be in the town gaol. It
+is no longer a contest between you and your defenceless daughter; it is
+a contest between--"
+
+"A tramper in fustian, and a gemman as drives a coach," interrupted
+Darvil, laughing bitterly, yet heartily. "Good--good!"
+
+The banker rose. "I think you have made a very clever definition," said
+he. "Half an hour--you recollect--good evening."
+
+"Stay," said Darvil; "you are the first man I have seen for many a year
+that I can take a fancy to. Sit down--sit down, I say, and talk a bit,
+and we shall come to terms soon, I dare say;--that's right. Lord! how
+I should like to have you on the roadside instead of within these four
+gimcrack walls. Ha! ha! the argufying would be all in my favour then."
+
+The banker was not a brave man, and his colour changed slightly at
+the intimation of this obliging wish. Darvil eyed him grimly and
+chucklingly.
+
+The rich man resumed: "That may or may not be, Mr. Darvil, according as
+I might happen or not to have pistols about me. But to the point. Quit
+this house without further debate, without noise, without mentioning to
+any one else your claim upon its owner--"
+
+"Well, and the return?"
+
+"Ten guineas now, and the same sum quarterly, as long as the young lady
+lives in this town, and you never persecute her by word or letter."
+
+"That is forty guineas a year. I can't live upon it."
+
+"You will cost less in the House of Correction, Mr. Darvil."
+
+"Come, make it a hundred: Alley is cheap at that."
+
+"Not a farthing more," said the banker, buttoning up his breeches
+pockets with a determined air.
+
+"Well, out with the shiners."
+
+"Do you promise or not?"
+
+"I promise."
+
+"There are your ten guineas. If in half an hour you are not gone--why,
+then--"
+
+"Then?"
+
+"Why, then you have robbed me of ten guineas, and must take the usual
+consequences of robbery."
+
+Darvil started to his feet--his eyes glared--he grasped the
+carving-knife before him.
+
+"You are a bold fellow," said the banker, quietly; "but it won't do. It
+is not worth your while to murder me; and I am a man sure to be missed."
+
+Darvil sank down, sullen and foiled. The respectable man was more than a
+match for the villain.
+
+"Had you been as poor as I,--Gad! what a rogue you would have been!"
+
+"I think not," said the banker; "I believe roguery to be a very bad
+policy. Perhaps once I _was_ almost as poor as you are, but I never
+turned rogue."
+
+"You never were in my circumstances," returned Darvil, gloomily. "I
+was a gentleman's son. Come, you shall hear my story. My father was
+well-born, but married a maid-servant when he was at college; his family
+disowned him, and left him to starve. He died in the struggle against
+a poverty he was not brought up to, and my dam went into service again;
+became housekeeper to an old bachelor--sent me to school--but mother
+had a family by the old bachelor, and I was taken from school and put to
+trade. All hated me--for I was ugly; damn them! Mother cut me--I wanted
+money--robbed the old bachelor--was sent to gaol, and learned there a
+lesson or two how to rob better in future. Mother died,--I was adrift on
+the world. The world was my foe--could not make it up with the world,
+so we went to war;--you understand, old boy? Married a poor woman and
+pretty;--wife made me jealous--had learned to suspect every one. Alice
+born--did not believe her mine: not like me--perhaps a gentleman's
+child. I hate--I loathe gentlemen. Got drunk one night--kicked my wife
+in the stomach three weeks after her confinement. Wife died--tried
+for my life--got off. Went to another county--having had a sort of
+education, and being sharp eno', got work as a mechanic. Hated work just
+as I hated gentlemen--for was I not by blood a gentleman? There was the
+curse. Alice grew up; never looked on her as my flesh and blood. Her
+mother was a w----! Why should not _she_ be one? There, that's
+enough. Plenty of excuse, I think, for all I have ever done. Curse the
+world--curse the rich--curse the handsome--curse--curse all!"
+
+"You have been a very foolish man," said the banker; "and seem to me to
+have had very good cards, if you had known how to play them. However,
+that is your lookout. It is not yet too late to repent; age is creeping
+on you.--Man, there is another world."
+
+The banker said the last words with a tone of solemn and even dignified
+adjuration.
+
+"You think so--do you?" said Darvil, staring at him.
+
+"From my soul I do."
+
+"Then you are not the sensible man I took you for," replied Darvil,
+drily; "and I should like to talk to you on that subject."
+
+But our Dives, however sincere a believer, was by no means one
+
+        "At whose control
+  Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul."
+
+He had words of comfort for the pious, but he had none for the
+sceptic--he could soothe, but he could not convert. It was not in his
+way; besides, he saw no credit in making a convert of Luke Darvil.
+Accordingly, he again rose with some quickness, and said:
+
+"No, sir; that is useless, I fear, and I have no time to spare; and so
+once more good night to you."
+
+"But you have not arranged where my allowance is to be sent."
+
+"Ah! true; I will guarantee it. You will find my name sufficient
+security."
+
+"At least, it is the best I can get," returned Darvil, carelessly; "and
+after all, it is not a bad chance day's work. But I'm sure I can't say
+where the money shall be sent. I don't know a man who would not grab
+it."
+
+"Very well, then--the best thing (I speak as a man of business) will be
+to draw on me for ten guineas quarterly. Wherever you are staying,
+any banker can effect this for you. But mind, if ever you overdraw the
+account stops."
+
+"I understand," said Darvil; "and when I have finished the bottle I
+shall be off."
+
+"You had better," replied the banker, as he opened the door.
+
+The rich man returned home hurriedly. "So Alice, after all, has some
+gentle blood in her veins," thought he. "But that father--no, it will
+never do. I wish he were hanged and nobody the wiser. I should
+very much like to arrange the matter without marrying; but
+then--scandal--scandal--scandal. After all, I had better give up all
+thoughts of her. She is monstrous handsome, and so--humph:--I shall
+never grow an old man."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+ "Began to bend down his admiring eyes
+  On all her touching looks and qualities,
+  Turning their shapely sweetness every way
+  Till 'twas his food and habit day by day."
+   LEIGH HUNT.
+
+THERE must have been a secret something about Alice Darvil singularly
+captivating, that (associated as she was with images of the most sordid
+and the vilest crimes) left her still pure and lovely alike in the eyes
+of a man as fastidious as Ernest Maltravers, and of a man as influenced
+by all the thoughts and theories of the world as the shrewd banker of
+C------. Amidst things foul and hateful had sprung up this beautiful
+flower, as if to preserve the inherent heavenliness and grace of human
+nature, and proclaim the handiwork of God in scenes where human nature
+had been most debased by the abuses of social art; and where the light
+of God Himself was most darkened and obscured. That such contrasts,
+though rarely and as by chance, are found, every one who has carefully
+examined the wastes and deserts of life must own. I have drawn Alice
+Darvil scrupulously from life, and I can declare that I have not
+exaggerated hue or lineament in the portrait. I do not suppose, with
+our good banker, that she owed anything, unless it might be a greater
+delicacy of form and feature, to whatever mixture of gentle blood was in
+her veins. But, somehow or other, in her original conformation there
+was the happy bias of the plantes towards the Pure and the Bright. For,
+despite Helvetius, a common experience teaches us that though education
+and circumstances may mould the mass, Nature herself sometimes forms the
+individual, and throws into the clay, or its spirit, so much of beauty
+or deformity, that nothing can utterly subdue the original elements of
+character. From sweets one draws poison--from poisons another extracts
+but sweets. But I, often deeply pondering over the psychological history
+of Alice Darvil, think that one principal cause why she escaped
+the early contaminations around her was in the slow and protracted
+development of her intellectual faculties. Whether or not the brutal
+violence of her father had in childhood acted through the nerves upon
+the brain, certain it is that until she knew Maltravers--until she
+loved--till she was cherished--her mind had seemed torpid and locked
+up. True, Darvil had taught her nothing, nor permitted her to be taught
+anything; but that mere ignorance would have been no preservation to
+a quick, observant mind. It was the bluntness of the senses themselves
+that operated tike an armour between her mind and the vile things around
+her. It was the rough, dull covering of the chrysalis, framed to bear
+rude contact and biting weather, that the butterfly might break forth,
+winged and glorious, in due season. Had Alice been a quick child, Alice
+would have probably grown up a depraved and dissolute woman; but she
+comprehended, she understood little or nothing, till she found an
+inspirer in that affection which inspires both beast and man; which
+makes the dog (in his natural state one of the meanest of the savage
+race) a companion, a guardian, a protector, and raises Instinct half-way
+to the height of Reason.
+
+The banker had a strong regard for Alice; and when he reached home,
+he heard with great pain that she was in a high state of fever. She
+remained beneath his roof that night, and the elderly gentlewoman, his
+relation and _gouvernante_, attended her. The banker slept but little;
+and the next morning his countenance was unusually pale. Towards
+daybreak Alice had fallen into a sound and refreshing sleep; and when,
+on waking, she found, by a note from her host, that her father had left
+her house, and she might return in safety and without fear, a violent
+flood of tears, followed by long and grateful prayer, contributed to
+the restoration of her mind and nerves. Imperfect as this young woman's
+notions of abstract right and wrong still were, she was yet sensible
+to the claims of a father (no matter how criminal) upon his child: for
+feelings with her were so good and true, that they supplied in a great
+measure the place of principles. She knew that she could not have lived
+under the same roof with her dreadful parent; but she still felt
+an uneasy remorse at thinking he had been driven from that roof in
+destitution and want. She hastened to dress herself and seek an audience
+with her protector; and the latter found with admiration and pleasure
+that he had anticipated her own instantaneous and involuntary design
+in the settlement made upon Darvil. He then communicated to Alice the
+compact he had already formed with her father, and she wept and kissed
+his hand when she heard, and secretly resolved that she would work hard
+to be enabled to increase the sum allowed. Oh, if her labours could
+serve to retrieve a parent from the necessity of darker resources for
+support! Alas! when crime has become a custom, it is like gaming or
+drinking--the excitement is wanting; and had Luke Darvil been suddenly
+made inheritor of the wealth of a Rothschild, he would either still have
+been a villain in one way or the other; or _ennui_ would have awakened
+conscience, and he would have died of the change of habit.
+
+Our banker always seemed more struck by Alice's moral feelings than even
+by her physical beauty. Her love for her child, for instance, impressed
+him powerfully, and he always gazed upon her with softer eyes when
+he saw her caressing or nursing the little fatherless creature, whose
+health was now delicate and precarious. It is difficult to say whether
+he was absolutely in love with Alice; the phrase is too strong, perhaps,
+to be applied to a man past fifty, who had gone through emotions and
+trials enough to wear away freshness from his heart. His feelings
+altogether for Alice, the designs he entertained towards her, were of a
+very complicated nature; and it will be long, perhaps, before the reader
+can thoroughly comprehend them. He conducted Alice home that day; but
+he said little by the way, perhaps because his female relation, for
+appearance' sake, accompanied them also. He, however, briefly cautioned
+Alice on no account to communicate to any one that it was her father
+who had been her visitor; and she still shuddered too much at the
+reminiscence to appear likely to converse on it. The banker also judged
+it advisable to be so far confidential with Alice's servant as to take
+her aside, and tell her that the inauspicious stranger of the previous
+evening had been a very distant relation of Mrs. Butler, who, from a
+habit of drunkenness, had fallen into evil and disorderly courses. The
+banker added with a sanctified air that he trusted, by a little serious
+conversation, he had led the poor man to better notions, and that he had
+gone home with an altered mind to his family. "But, my good Hannah," he
+concluded, "you know you are a superior person, and above the vulgar
+sin of indiscriminate gossip; therefore, mention what has occurred to no
+one; it can do no good to Mrs. Butler--it may hurt the man himself, who
+is well-to-do--better off than he seems; and who, I hope, with grace,
+may be a sincere penitent; and it will also--but that is nothing--very
+seriously displease me. By the by, Hannah, I shall be able to get your
+grandson into the Free School."
+
+The banker was shrewd enough to perceive that he had carried his point;
+and he was walking home, satisfied, on the whole, with the way matters
+had been arranged, when he was met by a brother magistrate.
+
+"Ha!" said the latter, "and how are you, my good sir? Do you know that
+we have had the Bow Street officers here, in search of a notorious
+villain who has broken from prison? He is one of the most determined and
+dexterous burglars in all England, and the runners have hunted him into
+our town. His very robberies have tracked him by the way. He robbed a
+gentleman the day before yesterday of his watch, and left him for dead
+on the road--this was not thirty miles hence."
+
+"Bless me!" said the banker, with emotion; "and what is the wretch's
+name?"
+
+"Why, he has as many aliases as a Spanish grandee; but I believe the
+last name he has assumed is Peter Watts."
+
+"Oh!" said our friend, relieved,--"well, have the runners found him?"
+
+"No, but they are on his scent. A fellow answering to his description
+was seen by the man at the toll-bar, at daybreak this morning, on the
+way to F------; the officers are after him."
+
+"I hope he may meet with his deserts--and crime is never unpunished
+even in this world. My best compliments to your lady:--and how is little
+Jack?--Well! glad to hear it--fine boy, little Jack! good day."
+
+"Good day, my dear sir. Worthy man, that!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+ "But who is this? thought he, a demon vile.
+  With wicked meaning and a vulgar style;
+  Hammond they call him--they can give the name
+  Of man to devils. Why am I so tame?
+  Why crush I not the viper? Fear replied,
+  Watch him a while, and let his strength be tried."
+   CRABBE.
+
+THE next morning, after breakfast, the banker took his horse--a
+crop-eared, fast-trotting hackney--and merely leaving word that he was
+going upon business into the country, and should not return to dinner,
+turned his back on the spires of C------.
+
+He rode slowly, for the day was hot. The face of the country, which was
+fair and smiling, might have tempted others to linger by the way; but
+our hard and practical man of the world was more influenced by the
+weather than the loveliness of the scenery. He did not look upon Nature
+with the eye of imagination; perhaps a railroad, had it then and there
+existed, would have pleased him better than the hanging woods, the
+shadowy valleys, and the changeful river that from time to time
+beautified the landscape on either side the road. But, after all, there
+is a vast deal of hypocrisy in the affected admiration for Nature;--and
+I don't think one person in a hundred cares for what lies by the side
+of a road, so long as the road itself is good, hills levelled, and
+turnpikes cheap.
+
+It was midnoon, and many miles had been passed, when the banker
+turned down a green lane and quickened his pace. At the end of about
+three-quarters of an hour, he arrived at a little solitary inn,
+called "The Angler,"--put up his horse, ordered his dinner at six
+o'clock--begged to borrow a basket to hold his fish--and it was then
+apparent that a longish cane he had carried with him was capable of
+being extended into a fishing-rod. He fitted in the various joints with
+care, as if to be sure no accident had happened to the implement by the
+journey--pried anxiously into the contents of a black case of lines and
+flies--slung the basket behind his back, and while his horse was putting
+down his nose and whisking about his tail, in the course of those
+nameless coquetries that horses carry on with hostlers--our worthy
+brother of the rod strode rapidly through some green fields, gained the
+riverside, and began fishing with much semblance of earnest interest
+in the sport. He had caught one trout, seemingly by accident--for the
+astonished fish was hooked up on the outside of its jaw--probably while
+in the act, not of biting, but of gazing at, the bait, when he grew
+discontented with the spot he had selected; and, after looking round
+as if to convince himself that he was not liable to be disturbed or
+observed (a thought hateful to the fishing fraternity), he stole quickly
+along the margin, and finally quitting the riverside altogether, struck
+into a path that, after a sharp walk of nearly all hour, brought him
+to the door of a cottage. He knocked twice, and then entered of his own
+accord--nor was it till the summer sun was near its decline that the
+banker regained his inn. His simple dinner, which they had delayed in
+wonder at the protracted absence of the angler, and in expectation of
+the fishes he was to bring back to be fried, was soon despatched; his
+horse was ordered to the door, and the red clouds in the west already
+betokened the lapse of another day, as he spurred from the spot on the
+fast-trotting hackney, fourteen miles an hour.
+
+"That 'ere gemman has a nice bit of blood," said the hostler, scratching
+his ear.
+
+"Oiy,--who be he?" said a hanger-on of the stables.
+
+"I dooan't know. He has been here twice afoar, and he never cautches
+anything to sinnify--he be mighty fond of fishing, surely."
+
+Meanwhile, away sped the banker--milestone on milestone glided by--and
+still, scarce turning a hair, trotted gallantly out the good hackney.
+But the evening grew darker, and it began to rain; a drizzling,
+persevering rain, that wets a man through ere he is aware of it. After
+his fiftieth year, a gentleman who has a tender regard for himself does
+not like to get wet; and the rain inspired the banker, who was subject
+to rheumatism, with the resolution to take a short cut along the fields.
+There were one or two low hedges by this short way, but the banker had
+been there in the spring, and knew every inch of the ground. The hackney
+leaped easily--and the rider had a tolerably practised seat--and two
+miles saved might just prevent the menaced rheumatism: accordingly, our
+friend opened a white gate, and scoured along the fields without any
+misgivings as to the prudence of his choice. He arrived at his first
+leap--there was the hedge, its summit just discernible in the dim
+light. On the other side, to the right was a haystack, and close by this
+haystack seemed the most eligible place for clearing the obstacle. Now
+since the banker had visited this place, a deep ditch, that served as a
+drain, had been dug at the opposite base of the hedge, of which neither
+horse nor man was aware, so that the leap was far more perilous than was
+anticipated. Unconscious of this additional obstacle, the rider set off
+in a canter. The banker was high in air, his loins bent back, his rein
+slackened, his right hand raised knowingly--when the horse took fright
+at an object crouched by the haystack--swerved, plunged midway into
+the ditch, and pitched its rider two or three yards over its head. The
+banker recovered himself sooner than might have been expected; and,
+finding himself, though bruised and shaken, still whole and sound,
+hastened to his horse. But the poor animal had not fared so well as its
+master, and its off-shoulder was either put out or dreadfully
+sprained. It had scrambled its way out of the ditch, and there it
+stood disconsolate by the hedge, as lame as one of the trees that, at
+irregular intervals, broke the symmetry of the barrier. On ascertaining
+the extent of his misfortune, the banker became seriously uneasy; the
+rain increased--he was several miles yet from home--he was in the midst
+of houseless fields, with another leap before him--the leap he had just
+passed behind--and no other egress that he knew of into the main road.
+While these thoughts passed through his brain, he became suddenly aware
+that he was not alone. The dark object that had frightened his horse
+rose slowly from the snug corner it had occupied by the haystack, and
+a gruff voice that made the banker thrill to the marrow of his bones,
+cried, "Holla, who the devil are you?"
+
+Lame as his horse was, the banker instantly put his foot into the
+stirrup; but before he could mount, a heavy gripe was laid on his
+shoulder--and turning round with as much fierceness as he could assume,
+he saw--what the tone of the voice had already led him to forebode--the
+ill-omened and cut-throat features of Luke Darvil.
+
+"Ha! ha! my old annuitant, my clever feelosofer--jolly old boy--how
+are you?--give us a fist. Who would have thought to meet you on a
+rainy night, by a lone haystack, with a deep ditch on one side, and
+no chimney-pot within sight? Why, old fellow, I, Luke Darvil,--I, the
+vagabond--I whom you would have sent to the treadmill for being poor,
+and calling on my own daughter--I am as rich as you are here--and as
+great, and as strong, and as powerful."
+
+And while he spoke, Darvil, who was really an undersized man, seemed to
+swell and dilate, till he appeared half a head taller than the shrinking
+banker, who was five feet eleven inches without his shoes.
+
+"E-hem!" said the rich man, clearing his throat, which seemed to him
+uncommonly husky; "I do not know whether I insulted your poverty, my
+dear Mr. Darvil--I hope not; but this is hardly a time for talking--pray
+let me mount, and--"
+
+"Not a time for talking!" interrupted Darvil angrily; "it's just the
+time to my mind: let me consider,--ay, I told you that whenever we met
+by the roadside it would be my turn to have the best of the argufying."
+
+"I dare say--I dare say, my good fellow."
+
+"Fellow not me!--I won't be fellowed now. I say I have the best of it
+here--man to man--I am your match."
+
+"But why quarrel with me?" said the banker, coaxingly; "I never meant
+you harm, and I am sure you cannot mean me harm."
+
+"No!--and why?" asked Darvil, coolly;--"why do you think I can mean you
+no harm?"
+
+"Because your annuity depends on me."
+
+"Shrewdly put--we'll argufy that point. My life is a bad one, not worth
+more than a year's purchase; now, suppose you have more than forty
+pounds about you--it may be better worth my while to draw my knife
+across your gullet than to wait for the quarter-day's ten pounds a
+time. You see it's all a matter of calculation, my dear, Mr.
+What's-your-name!"
+
+"But," replied the banker, and his teeth began to chatter, "I have not
+forty pounds about me."
+
+"How do I know that?--you say so. Well, in the town yonder your word
+goes for more than mine; I never gainsaid you when you put that to me,
+did I? But here, by the haystack, my word is better than yours; and if
+I say you must and shall have forty pounds about you, let's see whether
+you dare contradict me."
+
+"Look you, Darvil," said the banker, summoning up all his energy and
+intellect, for his moral power began now to back his physical cowardice,
+and he spoke calmly, and even bravely, though his heart throbbed
+aloud against his breast, and you might have knocked him down with a
+feather--"the London runners are even now hot after you."
+
+"Ha!--you lie!"
+
+"Upon my honour I speak the truth; I heard the news last evening. They
+tracked you to C------; they tracked you out of the town; a word from me
+would have given you into their hands. I said nothing--you are safe--you
+may yet escape. I will even help you to fly the country, and live out
+your natural date of years, secure and in peace."
+
+"You did not say that the other day in the snug drawing-room; you see I
+have the best of it now--own that."
+
+"I do," said the banker.
+
+Darvil chuckled, and rubbed his hands.
+
+The man of wealth once more felt his importance, and went on. "This is
+one side of the question. On the other, suppose you rob and murder me,
+do you think my death will lessen the heat of the pursuit against you?
+The whole country will be in arms, and before forty-eight hours are over
+you will be hunted down like a mad dog."
+
+Darvil was silent, as if in thought; and after a pause, replied: "Well,
+you are a 'cute one after all. What have you got about you? you know
+you drove a hard bargain the other day--now it's my market--fustian has
+riz--kersey has fell."
+
+"All I have about me shall be yours," said the banker, eagerly.
+
+"Give it me, then."
+
+"There!" said the banker, placing his purse and pocketbook into Darvil's
+bands.
+
+"And the watch?"
+
+"The watch?--well there!"
+
+"What's that?"
+
+The banker's senses were sharpened by fear, but they were not so sharp
+as those of Darvil; he heard nothing but the rain pattering on the
+leaves, and the rush of water in the ditch at hand. Darvil stooped and
+listened--till, raising himself again, with a deep-drawn breath, he
+said, "I think there are rats in the haystack; they will be running over
+me in my sleep; but they are playful creturs, and I like 'em. And now,
+my _dear_ sir, I am afraid I must put an end to you!"
+
+"Good Heavens, what do you mean? How?"
+
+"Man, there is another world!" quoth the ruffian, mimicking the banker's
+solemn tone in their former interview. "So much the better for you! In
+that world they don't tell tales."
+
+"I swear I will never betray you."
+
+"You do?--swear it, then."
+
+"By all my hopes of earth and heaven!"
+
+"What a d-----d coward you be!" said Darvil, laughing scornfully.
+"Go--you are safe. I am in good humour with myself again. I crow over
+you, for no man can make me tremble. And villain as you think me, while
+you fear me you cannot despise--you respect me. Go, I say--go."
+
+The banker was about to obey, when suddenly, from the haystack, a broad,
+red light streamed upon the pair, and the next moment Darvil was seized
+from behind, and struggling in the gripe of a man nearly as powerful
+as himself. The light, which came from a dark-lanthorn, placed on
+the ground, revealed the forms of a peasant in a smock-frock, and two
+stout-built, stalwart men, armed with pistols--besides the one engaged
+with Darvil.
+
+The whole of this scene was brought as by the trick of the stage--as
+by a flash of lightning--as by the change of a showman's
+phantasmagoria--before the astonished eyes of the banker. He stood
+arrested and spell-bound, his hand on his bridle, his foot on his
+stirrup. A moment more and Darvil had clashed his antagonist on the
+ground; he stood at a little distance, his face reddened by the glare of
+the lanthorn and fronting his assailants--that fiercest of all beasts,
+a desperate man at bay! He had already succeeded in drawing forth his
+pistols, and he held one in each hand--his eyes flashing from beneath
+his bent brows and turning quickly from foe to foe! At last those
+terrible eyes rested on the late reluctant companion of his solitude.
+
+"So _you_ then betrayed me," he said, very slowly, and directed his
+pistol to the head of the dismounted horseman.
+
+"No, no!" cried one of the officers, for such were Darvil's assailants;
+"fire away in this direction, my hearty--we're paid for it. The
+gentleman knew nothing at all about it."
+
+"Nothing, by G--!" cried the banker, startled out of his sanctity.
+
+"Then I shall keep my shot," said Darvil; "and mind, the first who
+approaches me is a dead man."
+
+It so happened that the robber and the officers were beyond the distance
+which allows sure mark for a pistol-shot, and each party felt the
+necessity of caution.
+
+"Your time is up, my swell cove!" cried the head of the detachment; "you
+have had your swing, and a long one it seems to have been--you must now
+give in. Throw down your barkers, or we must make mutton of you, and rob
+the gallows."
+
+Darvil did not reply, and the officers, accustomed to hold life cheap,
+moved on towards him--their pistols cocked and levelled.
+
+Darvil fired--one of the men staggered and fell. With a kind of instinct
+Darvil had singled out the one with whom he had before wrestled for
+life. The ruffian waited not for the others--he turned and fled along
+the fields.
+
+"Zounds, he is off!" cried the other two, and they rushed after him in
+pursuit. A pause--a shot--another--an oath--a groan--and all was still.
+
+"It's all up with him now," said one of the runners, in the distance;
+"he dies game."
+
+At these words, the peasant, who had before skulked behind the haystack,
+seized the lanthorn from the ground, and ran to the spot. The banker
+involuntarily followed.
+
+There lay Luke Darvil on the grass--still living, but a horrible and
+ghastly spectacle. One ball had pierced his breast, another had shot
+away his jaw. His eyes rolled fearfully, and he tore up the grass with
+his hands.
+
+The officers looked coldly on. "He was a clever fellow!" said one.
+
+"And has given us much trouble," said the other; "let us see to Will."
+
+"But he's not dead yet," said the banker, shuddering.
+
+"Sir, he cannot live a minute."
+
+Darvil raised himself bolt upright--shook his clenched fist at his
+conquerors, and a fearful gurgling howl, which the nature of his wounds
+did not allow him to syllable into a curse, came from his breast--with
+that he fell flat on his back--a corpse.
+
+"I am afraid, sir," said the elder officer, turning away, "you had a
+narrow escape--but how came you here?"
+
+"Rather, how came _you_ here?"
+
+"Honest Hodge there, with the lanthorn, had marked the fellow skulk
+behind the haystack, when he himself was going out to snare rabbits. He
+had seen our advertisement of Watts' person, and knew that we were then
+at a public house some miles off. He came to us--conducted us to the
+spot--we heard voices--showed up the glim--and saw our man. Hodge, you
+are a good subject, and love justice."
+
+"Yees, but I shall have the rewourd," said Hodge, showing his teeth.
+
+"Talk o' that by and by," said the officer. "Will, how are you, man?"
+
+"Bad," groaned the poor runner, and a rush of blood from the lips
+followed the groan.
+
+It was many days before the ex-member for C------ sufficiently recovered
+the tone of his mind to think further of Alice; when he did, it was with
+great satisfaction that he reflected that Darvil was no more, and that
+the deceased ruffian was only known to the neighbourhood by the name of
+Peter Watts.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK V.
+
+PARODY.
+
+  My hero, turned author, lies mute in this section,
+  You may pass by the place if you're bored by reflection:
+  But if honest enough to be fond of the Muse,
+  Stay, and read where you're able, and sleep where you choose.
+   THEOC. _Epig. in Hippon_.
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+        "My genius spreads her wing,
+  And flies where Britain courts the western spring.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+  Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,
+  I see the lords of human kind pass by,
+  Intent on high designs."-GOLDSMITH.
+
+I HAVE no respect for the Englishman who re-enters London after long
+residence abroad without a pulse that beats quick and a heart that
+heaves high. The public buildings are few, and, for the most part, mean;
+the monuments of antiquity not comparable to those which the pettiest
+town in Italy can boast of; the palaces are sad rubbish; the houses of
+our peers and princes are shabby and shapeless heaps of brick. But
+what of all this? the spirit of London is in her thoroughfares--her
+population! What wealth--what cleanliness--what order--what animation!
+How majestic, and yet how vivid, is the life that runs through her
+myriad veins! How, as the lamps blaze upon you at night, and street
+after street glides by your wheels, each so regular in its symmetry, so
+equal in its civilization--how all speak of the CITY OF FREEMEN.
+
+Yes, Maltravers felt his heart swell within him as the post-horses
+whirled on his dingy carriage--over Westminster Bridge--along
+Whitehall--through Regent Street--towards one of the quiet and
+private-house-like hotels that are scattered round the neighbourhood of
+Grosvenor Square.
+
+Ernest's arrival had been expected. He had written from Paris to
+Cleveland to announce it; and Cleveland had, in reply, informed him
+that he had engaged apartments for him at Mivart's. The smiling waiters
+ushered him into a spacious and well-aired room--the armchair was
+already wheeled by the fire--a score or so of letters strewed the table,
+together with two of the evening papers. And how eloquently of busy
+England do those evening papers speak! A stranger might have felt that
+he wanted no friend to welcome him--the whole room smiled on him a
+welcome.
+
+Maltravers ordered his dinner and opened his letters: they were of no
+importance; one from his steward, one from his banker, another about the
+county races, a fourth from a man he had never heard of, requesting the
+vote and powerful interest of Mr. Maltravers for the county of B------,
+should the rumour of a dissolution be verified; the unknown candidate
+referred Mr. Maltravers to his "well-known public character." From
+these epistles Ernest turned impatiently, and perceived a little
+three-cornered note which had hitherto escaped his attention. It was
+from Cleveland, intimating that he was in town; that his health still
+precluded his going out, but that he trusted to see his dear Ernest as
+soon as he arrived.
+
+Maltravers was delighted at the prospect of passing his evening so
+agreeably; he soon despatched his dinner and his newspapers, and walked
+in the brilliant lamplight of a clear frosty evening of early December
+in London, to his friend's house in Curzon Street: a small house,
+bachelor-like and unpretending; for Cleveland spent his moderate though
+easy fortune almost entirely at his country villa. The familiar face
+of the old valet greeted Ernest at the door, and he only paused to hear
+that his guardian was nearly recovered to his usual health, ere he
+was in the cheerful drawing-room, and--since Englishmen do not
+embrace--returning the cordial gripe of the kindly Cleveland.
+
+"Well, my dear Ernest," said Cleveland, after they had gone through
+the preliminary round of questions and answers, "here you are at last:
+Heaven be praised; and how well you are looking--how much you are
+improved! It is an excellent period of the year for your _debut_ in
+London. I shall have time to make you intimate with people before the
+whirl of 'the season' commences."
+
+"Why, I thought of going to Burleigh, my country-place. I have not seen
+it since I was a child."
+
+"No, no! you have had solitude enough at Como, if I may trust to your
+letter; you must now mix with the great London world; and you will enjoy
+Burleigh the more in the summer."
+
+"I fancy this great London world will give me very little pleasure; it
+may be pleasant enough to young men just let loose from college, but
+your crowded ball-rooms and monotonous clubs will be wearisome to one
+who has grown fastidious before his time. _J'ai vecu beaucoup dans peu
+d'annees_. I have drawn in youth too much upon the capital of existence
+to be highly delighted with the ostentatious parsimony with which our
+great men economise pleasure."
+
+"Don't judge before you have gone through the trial," said Cleveland:
+"there is something in the opulent splendour, the thoroughly sustained
+magnificence, with which the leaders of English fashion conduct even the
+most insipid amusements, that is above contempt. Besides, you need not
+necessarily live with the butterflies. There are plenty of bees that
+will be very happy to make your acquaintance. Add to this, my dear
+Ernest, the pleasure of being made of--of being of importance in your
+own country. For you are young, well-born, and sufficiently handsome to
+be an object of interest to mothers and to daughters; while your name,
+and property, and interest, will make you courted by men who want
+to borrow your money and obtain your influence in your county. No,
+Maltravers, stay in London--amuse yourself your first year, and decide
+on your occupation and career the next; but reconnoitre before you give
+battle."
+
+Maltravers was not ill-pleased to follow his friend's advice, since by
+so doing he obtained his friend's guidance and society. Moreover, he
+deemed it wise and rational to see, face to face, the eminent men in
+England, with whom, if he fulfilled his promise to De Montaigne, he
+was to run the race of honourable rivalry. Accordingly, he consented to
+Cleveland's propositions.
+
+"And have you," said he, hesitating, as he loitered by the door after
+the stroke of twelve had warned him to take his leave--"have you never
+heard anything of my--my--the unfortunate Alice Darvil?"
+
+"Who?--Oh, that poor young woman; I remember!--not a syllable."
+
+Maltravers sighed deeply and departed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+ "Je trouve que c'est une folie de vouloir etudier le monde en
+  simple spectateur. * * * Dans l'ecole du monde, comme dans
+  cette de l'amour, il faut commencer par pratiquer cc qu'on veut
+  apprendre."*--ROUSSEAU.
+
+* I find that it is a folly to wish to study the world like a simple
+spectator. * * * In the school of the world, as in that of love, it is
+necessary to begin by practising what we wish to learn.
+
+ERNEST MALTRAVERS was now fairly launched upon the wide ocean of London.
+Amongst his other property was a house in Seamore Place--that quiet, yet
+central street, which enjoys the air without the dust of the park. It
+had been hitherto let, and, the tenant now quitting very opportunely,
+Maltravers was delighted to secure so pleasant a residence: for he
+was still romantic enough to desire to look out upon trees and verdure
+rather than brick houses. He indulged only in two other luxuries: his
+love of music tempted him to an opera-box, and he had that English
+feeling which prides itself in the possession of beautiful horses,--a
+feeling that enticed him into an extravagance on this head that baffled
+the competition and excited the envy of much richer men. But four
+thousand a year goes a great way with a single man who does not gamble,
+and is too philosophical to make superfluities wants.
+
+The world doubled his income, magnified his old country-seat into a
+superb chateau, and discovered that his elder brother, who was only
+three or four years older than himself, had no children. The world was
+very courteous to Ernest Maltravers.
+
+It was, as Cleveland said, just at that time of year when people are
+at leisure to make new acquaintances. A few only of the most difficult
+houses in town were open; and their doors were cheerfully expanded to
+the accomplished ward of the popular Cleveland. Authors and statesmen,
+and orators, and philosophers--to all he was presented;--all seemed
+pleased with him, and Ernest became the fashion before he was conscious
+of the distinction. But he had rightly foreboded. He had commenced life
+too soon; he was disappointed; he found some persons he could admire,
+some whom he could like, but none with whom he could grow intimate,
+or for whom he could feel an interest. Neither his heart nor his
+imagination was touched; all appeared to him like artificial machines;
+he was discontented with things like life, but in which something or
+other was wanting. He more than ever recalled the brilliant graces of
+Valerie de Ventadour, which had thrown a charm over the most frivolous
+circles; he even missed the perverse and fantastic vanity of Castruccio.
+The mediocre poet seemed to him at least less mediocre than the
+worldlings about him. Nay, even the selfish good spirits and dry
+shrewdness of Lumley Ferrers would have been an acceptable change to
+the dull polish and unrevealed egotism of jealous wits and party
+politicians. "If these are the flowers of the parterre, what must be the
+weeds?" said Maltravers to himself, returning from a party at which he
+had met half a score of the most orthodox lions.
+
+He began to feel the aching pain of satiety.
+
+But the winter glided away--the season commenced, and Maltravers was
+whirled on with the rest into the bubbling vortex.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ "And crowds commencing mere vexation,
+  Retirement sent its invitation."--SHENSTONE.
+
+THE tench, no doubt, considers the pond in which he lives as the Great
+World. There is no place, however stagnant, which is not the great world
+to the creatures that move about, in it. People who have lived all their
+lives in a village still talk of the world as if they had ever seen
+it! An old woman in a hovel does not put her nose out of her door on a
+Sunday without thinking she is going amongst the pomps and vanities
+of the great world. _Ergo_, the great world is to all of us the little
+circle in which we live. But as fine people set the fashion, so the
+circle of fine people is called the Great World _par excellence_. Now
+this great world is not a bad thing when we thoroughly understand it;
+and the London great world is at least as good as any other. But then
+we scarcely do understand that or anything else in our _beaux
+jours_,--which, if they are sometimes the most exquisite, are also often
+the most melancholy and the most wasted portion of our life. Maltravers
+had not yet found out either _the set_ that pleased him or the species
+of amusement that really amused. Therefore he drifted on and about
+the vast whirlpool, making plenty of friends--going to balls and
+dinners--and bored with both as men are who have no object in society.
+Now the way society is enjoyed is to have a pursuit, a _metier_ of
+some kind, and then to go into the world, either to make the individual
+object a social pleasure, or to obtain a reprieve from some toilsome
+avocation. Thus, if you are a politician--politics at once make an
+object in your closet, and a social tie between others and yourself when
+you are in the world. The same may be said of literature, though in a
+less degree; and though, as fewer persons care about literature than
+politics, your companions must be more select. If you are very young,
+you are fond of dancing; if you are very profligate, perhaps you are
+fond of flirtations with your friend's wife. These last are objects in
+their way: but they don't last long, and, even with the most frivolous,
+are not occupations that satisfy the whole mind and heart, in which
+there is generally an aspiration after something useful. It is not
+vanity alone that makes a man of the _mode_ invent a new bit or give
+his name to a new kind of carriage; it is the influence of that mystic
+yearning after utility, which is one of the master-ties between the
+individual and the species.
+
+Maltravers was not happy--that is a lot common enough; but he was not
+amused--and that is a sentence more insupportable. He lost a great part
+of his sympathy with Cleveland, for, when a man is not amused, he feels
+an involuntary contempt for those who are. He fancies they are pleased
+with trifles which his superior wisdom is compelled to disdain.
+Cleveland was of that age when we generally grow social--for by being
+rubbed long and often against the great loadstone of society, we obtain,
+in a thousand little minute points, an attraction in common with our
+fellows. Their petty sorrows and small joys--their objects of interest
+or employment, at some time or other have been ours. We gather up a vast
+collection of moral and mental farthings of exchange: and we scarcely
+find any intellect too poor, but what we can deal with it in some
+way. But in youth, we are egotists and sentimentalists, and Maltravers
+belonged to the fraternity who employ
+
+   "The heart in passion and the head in rhymes."
+
+At length--just when London begins to grow most pleasant--when
+flirtations become tender, and water-parties numerous--when birds sing
+in the groves of Richmond, and whitebait refresh the statesman by the
+shores of Greenwich,--Maltravers abruptly fled from the gay metropolis,
+and arrived, one lovely evening in July, at his own ivy-grown porch of
+Burleigh.
+
+What a soft, fresh, delicious evening it was! He had quitted his
+carriage at the lodge, and followed it across the small but picturesque
+park alone and on foot. He had not seen the place since childhood--he
+had quite forgotten its aspect. He now wondered how he could have lived
+anywhere else. The trees did not stand in stately avenues, nor did the
+antlers of the deer wave above the sombre fern; it was not the domain
+of a grand seigneur, but of an old, long-descended English squire.
+Antiquity spoke in the moss-grown palings in the shadowy groves, in
+the sharp gable-ends and heavy mullions of the house, as it now came in
+view, at the base of a hill covered with wood--and partially veiled by
+the shrubs of the neglected pleasure-ground, separated from the park by
+the invisible ha-ha. There, gleamed in the twilight the watery face
+of the oblong fish-pool, with its old-fashioned willows at each
+corner--there, grey and quaint, was the monastic dial--and there was the
+long terrace walk, with discoloured and broken vases, now filled with
+the orange or the aloe, which, in honour of his master's arrival,
+the gardener had extracted from the dilapidated green-house. The
+very evidence of neglect around, the very weeds and grass on the
+half-obliterated road, touched Maltravers with a sort of pitying and
+remorseful affection for his calm and sequestered residence. And it was
+not with his usual proud step and erect crest that he passed from the
+porch to the solitary library, through a line of his servants:--the two
+or three old retainers belonging to the place were utterly unfamiliar to
+him, and they had no smile for their stranger lord.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+ "_Lucian._ He that is born to be a man neither should nor can
+  be anything nobler, greater, and better than a man.
+
+ "_Peregrine._ But, good Lucian, for the very reason that he may
+  not become less than a man, he should be always striving to be
+  more."--WIELAND'S _Peregrinus Proteus_.
+
+IT was two years from the date of the last chapter before Maltravers
+again appeared in general society. These two years had sufficed to
+produce a revolution in his fate. Ernest Maltravers had lost the happy
+rights of the private individual; he had given himself to the Public; he
+had surrendered his name to men's tongues, and was a thing that all had
+a right to praise, to blame, to scrutinise, to spy. Ernest Maltravers
+had become an author.
+
+Let no man tempt Gods and Columns, without weighing well the
+consequences of his experiment. He who publishes a book, attended with a
+moderate success, passes a mighty barrier. He will often look back with
+a sigh of regret at the land he has left for ever. The beautiful and
+decent obscurity of hearth and home is gone. He can no longer feel
+the just indignation of manly pride when he finds himself ridiculed or
+reviled. He has parted with the shadow of his life. His motives may
+be misrepresented, his character belied; his manners, his person, his
+dress, the "very trick of his walk" are all fair food for the cavil
+and the caricature. He can never go back, he cannot even pause; he has
+chosen his path, and all the natural feelings that make the nerve and
+muscle of the active being urge him to proceed. To stop short is to
+fail. He has told the world that he will make a name; and he must be
+set down as a pretender, or toil on till the boast be fulfilled. Yet
+Maltravers thought nothing of all this when, intoxicated with his own
+dreams and aspirations, he desired to make a world his confidant; when
+from the living nature, and the lore of books, and the mingled result of
+inward study and external observation, he sought to draw forth something
+that might interweave his name with the pleasurable associations of his
+kind. His easy fortune and lonely state gave him up to his own thoughts
+and contemplations; they suffused his mind, till it ran over upon the
+page which makes the channel that connects the solitary Fountain with
+the vast Ocean of Human Knowledge. The temperament of Maltravers was,
+as we have seen, neither irritable nor fearful. He formed himself, as a
+sculptor forms, with a model before his eyes and an ideal in his heart.
+He endeavoured, with labour and patience, to approach nearer and nearer
+with every effort to the standard of such excellence as he thought might
+ultimately be attained by a reasonable ambition; and when, at last,
+his judgment was satisfied, he surrendered the product with a tranquil
+confidence to a more impartial tribunal.
+
+His first work was successful; perhaps for this reason--that it bore the
+stamp of the Honest and the Real. He did not sit down to report of what
+he had never seen, to dilate on what he had never felt. A quiet and
+thoughtful observer of life, his descriptions were the more vivid,
+because his own first impressions were not yet worn away. His experience
+had sunk deep; not on the arid surface of matured age, but in the
+fresh soil of youthful emotions. Another reason, perhaps, that obtained
+success for his essay was, that he had more varied and more elaborate
+knowledge than young authors think it necessary to possess. He did not,
+like Cesarini, attempt to make a show of words upon a slender capital of
+ideas. Whether his style was eloquent or homely; it was still in him
+a faithful transcript of considered and digested thought. A third
+reason--and I dwell on these points not more to elucidate the career of
+Maltravers than as hints which may be useful to others--a third reason
+why Maltravers obtained a prompt and favourable reception from the
+public was, that he had not hackneyed his peculiarities of diction
+and thought in that worst of all schools for the literary novice--the
+columns of a magazine. Periodicals form an excellent mode of
+communication between the public and an author _already_ established,
+who has lost the charm of novelty, but gained the weight of acknowledged
+reputation; and who, either upon politics or criticism, seeks for
+frequent and continuous occasions to enforce his peculiar theses and
+doctrines. But, upon the young writer, this mode of communication, if
+too long continued, operates most injuriously both as to his future
+prospects and his own present taste and style. With respect to the
+first, it familiarises the public to his mannerism (and all writers
+worth reading have mannerism) in a form to which the said public are not
+inclined to attach much weight. He forestalls in a few months what ought
+to be the effect of years; namely, the wearying a world soon nauseated
+with the _toujours perdrix_. With respect to the last, it induces a man
+to write for momentary effects; to study a false smartness of style and
+reasoning; to bound his ambition of durability to the last day of the
+month; to expect immediate returns for labour; to recoil at the "hope
+deferred" of serious works on which judgment is slowly formed. The
+man of talent who begins young at periodicals, and goes on long, has
+generally something crude and stunted about both his compositions and
+his celebrity. He grows the oracle of small coteries; and we can rarely
+get out of the impression that he is cockneyfied and conventional.
+Periodicals sadly mortgaged the claims that Hazlitt, and many others of
+his contemporaries, had upon a vast reversionary estate of Fame. But
+I here speak too politically; to some the _res angustoe domi_ leave no
+option. And, as Aristotle and the Greek proverb have it, we cannot carve
+out all things with the knife of the Delphic cutler.
+
+The second work that Maltravers put forth, at an interval of eighteen
+months from the first, was one of a graver and higher nature; it served
+to confirm his reputation: and that is success enough for a second
+work, which is usually an author's "_pons asinorum_." He who, after a
+triumphant first book, does not dissatisfy the public with a second,
+has a fair chance of gaining a fixed station in literature. But now
+commenced the pains and perils of the after-birth. By a maiden effort an
+author rarely makes enemies. His fellow-writers are not yet prepared
+to consider him as a rival; if he be tolerably rich, they unconsciously
+trust that he will not become a regular, or, as they term it, "a
+professional" author: he did something just to be talked of; he may
+write no more, or his second book may fail. But when that second book
+comes out, and does not fail, they begin to look about them; envy
+wakens, malice begins. And all the old school--gentlemen who have
+retired on their pensions of renown--regard him as an intruder: then
+the sneer, then the frown, the caustic irony, the biting review, the
+depreciating praise. The novice begins to think that he is further from
+the goal than before he set out upon the race.
+
+Maltravers had, upon the whole, a tolerably happy temperament; but
+he was a very proud man, and he had the nice soul of a courageous,
+honourable, punctilious gentleman. He thought it singular that society
+should call upon him, as a gentleman, to shoot his best friend, if that
+friend affronted him with a rude word; and yet that, as an author, every
+fool and liar might, with perfect impunity, cover reams of paper with
+the most virulent personal abuse of him.
+
+It was one evening in the early summer that, revolving anxious and
+doubtful thoughts, Ernest sauntered gloomily along his terrace,
+
+   "And watched with wistful eyes the setting sun."
+
+when he perceived a dusty travelling carriage whirled along the road
+by the ha-ha, and a hand waved in recognition from the open window. His
+guests had been so rare, and his friends were so few, that Maltravers
+could not conjecture who was his intended visitant. His brother, he
+knew, was in London. Cleveland, from whom he had that day heard, was at
+his villa. Ferrers was enjoying himself in Vienna. Who could it be? We
+may say of solitude what we please; but, after two years of solitude,
+a visitor is a pleasurable excitement. Maltravers retraced his steps,
+entered his house, and was just in time to find himself almost in the
+arms of De Montaigne.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+     "Quid tam dextro pede concipis ut te,
+  Conatus non poeniteat, votique peracti?"*--JUV.
+
+* What, under such happy auspices do you conceive that you may not
+repent of your endeavour and accomplished wish?
+
+"YES," said De Montaigne, "in my way I also am fulfilling my destiny. I
+am a member of the _Chambre des Deputes_, and on a visit to England upon
+some commercial affairs. I found myself in your neighbourhood, and, of
+course, could not resist the temptation: so you must receive me as your
+guest for some days."
+
+"I congratulate you cordially on your senatorial honours. I have already
+heard of your rising name."
+
+"I return the congratulations with equal warmth. You are bringing my
+prophecies to pass. I have read your works with increased pride at our
+friendship."
+
+Maltravers sighed slightly, and half turned away.
+
+"The desire of distinction," said he, after a pause, "grows upon us till
+excitement becomes disease. The child who is born with the mariner's
+instinct laughs with glee when his paper bark skims the wave of a pool.
+By and by nothing will content him but the ship and the ocean.--Like the
+child is the author."
+
+"I am pleased with your simile," said De Montaigne, smiling. "Do not
+spoil it, but go on with your argument."
+
+Maltravers continued: "Scarcely do we win the applause of a moment,
+ere we summon the past and conjecture the future. Our contemporaries no
+longer suffice for competitors, our age for the Court to pronounce on
+our claims: we call up the Dead as our only true rivals--we appeal to
+Posterity as our sole just tribunal. Is this vain in us? Possibly. Yet
+such vanity humbles. 'Tis then only we learn all the difference between
+Reputation and Fame--between To-Day and Immortality!"
+
+"Do you think," replied De Montaigne, "that the dead did not feel the
+same when they first trod the path that leads to the life beyond life?
+Continue to cultivate the mind, to sharpen by exercise the genius, to
+attempt to delight or to instruct your race; and even supposing you fall
+short of every model you set before you--supposing your name moulder
+with your dust, still you will have passed life more nobly than the
+unlaborious herd. Grant that you win not that glorious accident, 'a name
+below,' how can you tell but what you may have fitted yourself for high
+destiny and employ in the world not of men, but of spirits? The powers
+of the mind are things that cannot be less immortal than the mere
+sense of identity; their acquisitions accompany us through the Eternal
+Progress; and we may obtain a lower or a higher grade hereafter,
+in proportion as we are more or less fitted by the exercise of our
+intellect to comprehend and execute the solemn agencies of God. The wise
+man is nearer to the angels than the fool is. This may be an apocryphal
+dogma, but it is not an impossible theory."
+
+"But we may waste the sound enjoyments of actual life in chasing the
+hope you justly allow to be 'apocryphal;' and our knowledge may go for
+nothing in the eyes of the Omniscient."
+
+"Very well," said De Montaigne, smiling; "but answer me honestly. By the
+pursuits of intellectual ambition do you waste the sound enjoyments of
+life? If so, you do not pursue the system rightly. Those pursuits
+ought only to quicken your sense for such pleasures as are the true
+relaxations of life. And this, with you peculiarly, since you are
+fortunate enough not to depend for subsistence upon literature;--did you
+do so, I might rather advise you to be a trunkmaker than an author. A
+man ought not to attempt any of the highest walks of Mind and Art, as
+the mere provision of daily bread; not literature alone, but everything
+else of the same degree. He ought not to be a statesman, or an orator,
+or a philosopher, as a thing of pence and shillings: and usually all
+men, save the poor poet, feel this truth insensibly."
+
+"This may be fine preaching," said Maltravers; "but you may be quite
+sure that the pursuit of literature is a pursuit apart from the ordinary
+objects of life, and you cannot command the enjoyments of both."
+
+"I think otherwise," said De Montaigne; "but it is not in a country
+house eighty miles from the capital, without wife, guests, or friends,
+that the experiment can be fairly made. Come, Maltravers, I see before
+you a brave career, and I cannot permit you to halt at the onset."
+
+"You do not see all the calumnies that are already put forth against me,
+to say nothing of all the assurances (and many by clever men) that there
+is nothing in me!"
+
+"Dennis was a clever man, and said the same thing of your Pope. Madame
+de Sevigne was a clever woman, but she thought Racine would never be
+very famous. Milton saw nothing in the first efforts of Dryden that made
+him consider Dryden better than a rhymester. Aristophanes was a good
+judge of poetry, yet how ill he judged of Euripides! But all this is
+commonplace, and yet you bring arguments that a commonplace answers in
+evidence against yourself."
+
+"But it is unpleasant not to answer attacks--not to retaliate on
+enemies."
+
+"Then answer attacks, and retaliate on enemies."
+
+"But would that be wise?"
+
+"If it give you pleasure--it would not please _me_."
+
+"Come, De Montaigne, you are reasoning Socratically. I will ask you
+plainly and bluntly, would you advise an author to wage war on his
+literary assailants, or to despise them?"
+
+"Both; let him attack but few, and those rarely. But it is his policy to
+show that he is one whom it is better not to provoke too far. The author
+always has the world on his side against the critics, if he choose
+his opportunity. And he must always recollect that he is 'A STATE' in
+himself, which must sometimes go to war in order to procure peace. The
+time for war or for peace must be left to the State's own diplomacy and
+wisdom."
+
+"You would make us political machines."
+
+"It would make every man's conduct more or less mechanical; for system
+is the triumph of mind over matter; the just equilibrium of all the
+powers and passions may seem like machinery. Be it so. Nature meant the
+world--the creation--man himself, for machines."
+
+"And one must even be in a passion mechanically, according to your
+theories."
+
+"A man is a poor creature who is not in a passion sometimes; but a very
+unjust, or a very foolish one, if he be in a passion with the wrong
+person, and in the wrong place and time. But enough of this, it is
+growing late."
+
+"And when will Madame visit England?"
+
+"Oh, not yet, I fear. But you will meet Cesarini in London this year
+or the next. He is persuaded that you did not see justice done to his
+poems, and is coming here as soon as his indolence will let him, to
+proclaim your treachery in a biting preface to some toothless satire."
+
+"Satire!"
+
+"Yes; more than one of your poets made their way by a satire, and
+Cesarini is persuaded he shall do the same. Castruccio is not as
+far-sighted as his namesake, the Prince of Lucca. Good night, my dear
+Ernest."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+ "When with much pains this boasted learning's got,
+  'Tis an affront to those who have it not."
+   CHURCHILL: _The Author_.
+
+THERE was something in De Montaigne's conversation, which, without
+actual flattery, reconciled Maltravers to himself and his career. It
+served less, perhaps, to excite than to sober and brace his mind. De
+Montaigne could have made no man rash, but he could have made many men
+energetic and persevering. The two friends had some points in common;
+but Maltravers had far more prodigality of nature and passion about
+him--had more of flesh and blood, with the faults and excellences of
+flesh and blood. De Montaigne held so much to his favourite doctrine
+of moral equilibrium, that he had really reduced himself in much to
+a species of clockwork. As impulses are formed from habits, so the
+regularity of De Montaigne's habits made his impulses virtuous and just,
+and he yielded to them as often as a hasty character might have done;
+but then those impulses never urged to anything speculative or daring.
+De Montaigne could not go beyond a certain defined circle of action. He
+had no sympathy for any reasonings based purely on the hypotheses of the
+imagination: he could not endure Plato, and he was dumb to the eloquent
+whispers of whatever was refining in poetry or mystical in wisdom.
+
+Maltravers, on the contrary, not disdaining Reason, ever sought
+to assist her by the Imaginative Faculty, and held all philosophy
+incomplete and unsatisfactory that bounded its inquiries to the limits
+of the Known and Certain. He loved the inductive process; but he carried
+it out to Conjecture as well as Fact. He maintained that, by a similar
+hardihood, all the triumphs of science, as well as art, had been
+accomplished--that Newton, that Copernicus, would have done nothing
+if they had not imagined as well as reasoned, guessed as well as
+ascertained. Nay, it was an aphorism with him, that the very soul of
+philosophy is conjecture. He had the most implicit confidence in the
+operations of the mind and the heart properly formed, and deemed
+that the very excesses of emotion and thought, in men well trained by
+experience and study, are conducive to useful and great ends. But
+the more advanced years, and the singularly practical character of De
+Montaigne's views, gave him a superiority in argument over Maltravers
+which the last submitted to unwillingly. While, on the other hand, De
+Montaigne secretly felt that his young friend reasoned from a broader
+base, and took in a much wider circumference; and that he was, at once,
+more liable to failure and error, and more capable of new discovery and
+of intellectual achievement. But their ways in life being different,
+they did not clash; and De Montaigne, who was sincerely interested in
+Ernest's fate, was contented to harden his friend's mind against
+the obstacles in his way, and leave the rest to experiment and to
+Providence. They went up to London together: and De Montaigne returned
+to Paris. Maltravers appeared once more in the haunts of the gay and
+great. He felt that his new character had greatly altered his
+position. He was no longer courted and caressed for the same vulgar
+and adventitious circumstances of fortune, birth, and connections, as
+before--yet for circumstances that to him seemed equally unflattering.
+He was not sought for his merit, his intellect, his talents; but for
+his momentary celebrity. He was an author in fashion, and run after as
+anything else in fashion might have been. He was invited, less to be
+talked to than to be stared at. He was far too proud in his temper,
+and too pure in his ambition, to feel his vanity elated by sharing the
+enthusiasm of the circles with a German prince or an industrious flea.
+Accordingly he soon repelled the advances made to him, was reserved and
+supercilious to fine ladies, refused to be the fashion, and became very
+unpopular with the literary exclusives. They even began to run down the
+works, because they were dissatisfied with the author. But Maltravers
+had based his experiments upon the vast masses of the general Public. He
+had called the PEOPLE of his own and other countries to be his audience
+and his judges; and all the coteries in the world could have not injured
+him. He was like the member for an immense constituency, who may offend
+individuals, so long as he keep his footing with the body at large. But
+while he withdrew himself from the insipid and the idle, he took care
+not to become separated from the world. He formed his own society
+according to his tastes: took pleasure in the manly and exciting topics
+of the day; and sharpened his observation and widened his sphere as an
+author, by mixing freely and boldly with all classes as a citizen. But
+literature became to him as art to the artist--as his mistress to the
+lover--an engrossing and passionate delight. He made it his glorious
+and divine profession--he loved it as a profession--he devoted to its
+pursuits and honours his youth, cares, dreams--his mind, and his heart,
+and his soul. He was a silent but intense enthusiast in the priesthood
+he had entered. From LITERATURE he imagined had come all that makes
+nations enlightened and men humane. And he loved Literature the more,
+because her distinctions were not those of the world--because she had
+neither ribbands, nor stars, nor high places at her command. A name in
+the deep gratitude and hereditary delight of men--this was the title
+she bestowed. Hers was the Great Primitive Church of the world, without
+Popes or Muftis--sinecures, pluralities and hierarchies. Her servants
+spoke to the earth as the prophets of old, anxious only to be heard and
+believed. Full of this fanaticism, Ernest Maltravers pursued his way
+in the great procession of the myrtle-bearers to the sacred shrine.
+He carried the thyrsus, and he believed in the god. By degrees his
+fanaticism worked in him the philosophy which De Montaigne would have
+derived from sober calculation; it made him indifferent to the thorns in
+the path, to the storms in the sky. He learned to despise the enmity he
+provoked, the calumnies that assailed him. Sometimes he was silent, but
+sometimes he retorted. Like a soldier who serves a cause, he believed
+that when the cause was injured in his person, the weapons confided to
+his hands might be wielded without fear and without reproach. Gradually
+he became feared as well as known. And while many abused him, none could
+contemn.
+
+It would not suit the design of this work to follow Maltravers step by
+step in his course. I am only describing the principal events, not the
+minute details, of his intellectual life. Of the character of his
+works it will be enough to say that, whatever their faults, they were
+original--they were his own. He did not write according to copy, nor
+compile from commonplace books. He was an artist, it is true,--for what
+is genius itself but art? but he took laws, and harmony, and order,
+from the great code of Truth and Nature: a code that demands intense and
+unrelaxing study--though its first principles are few and simple: that
+study Maltravers did not shrink from. It was a deep love of truth that
+made him a subtle and searching analyst, even in what the dull world
+considers trifles; for he knew that nothing in literature is in itself
+trifling--that it is often but a hairsbreadth that divides a truism from
+a discovery. He was the more original, because he sought rather after
+the True than the New. No two minds are ever the same; and therefore
+any man who will give us fairly and frankly the results of his own
+impressions, uninfluenced by the servilities of imitation, will be
+original. But it was not from originality, which really made his
+predominant merit, that Maltravers derived his reputation, for his
+originality was not of that species which generally dazzles the
+vulgar--it was not extravagant nor _bizarre_--he affected no system and
+no school. Many authors of his day seemed more novel and _unique_ to the
+superficial. Profound and durable invention proceeds by subtle and fine
+gradations--it has nothing to do with those jerks and starts, those
+convulsions and distortions, which belong not to the vigour and health,
+but to the epilepsy and disease, of Literature.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+ "Being got out of town, the first thing I did was to give my
+  mule her head."--_Gil Blas_.
+
+ALTHOUGH the character of Maltravers was gradually becoming more hard
+and severe,--although as his reason grew more muscular, his imagination
+lost something of its early bloom, and he was already very different
+from the wild boy who had set the German youths in a blaze, and had
+changed into a Castle of Indolence the little cottage tenanted with
+Poetry and Alice,--he still preserved many of his old habits; he loved,
+at frequent intervals, to disappear from the great world--to get rid of
+books and friends, and luxury and wealth, and make solitary excursions,
+sometimes on foot, sometimes on horseback, through this fair garden of
+England.
+
+It was one soft May-day that he found himself on such an expedition,
+slowly riding through one of the green lanes of ------shire. His cloak
+and his saddle-bags comprised all his baggage, and the world was before
+him "where to choose his place of rest." The lane wound at length into
+the main road, and just as he came upon it he fell in with a gay party
+of equestrians.
+
+Foremost of its cavalcade rode a lady in a dark green habit, mounted
+on a thoroughbred English horse, which she managed with so easy a grace
+that Maltravers halted in involuntary admiration. He himself was a
+consummate horseman, and he had the quick eye of sympathy for those who
+shared the accomplishment. He thought, as he gazed, that he had never
+seen but one woman whose air and mien on horseback were so full of
+that nameless elegance which skill and courage in any art naturally
+bestow--that woman was Valerie de Ventadour. Presently, to his great
+surprise, the lady advanced from her companions, neared Maltravers, and
+said, in a voice which he did not at first distinctly recognise--"Is it
+possible?--do I see Mr. Maltravers?"
+
+She paused a moment, and then threw aside her veil, and Ernest
+beheld--Madame de Ventadour! By this time a tall, thin gentleman had
+joined the Frenchwoman.
+
+"Has _madame_ met with an acquaintance?" said he; "and, if so, will she
+permit me to partake her pleasure?"
+
+The interruption seemed a relief to Valerie;--she smiled and coloured.
+
+"Let me introduce you to Mr. Maltravers. Mr. Maltravers, this is my
+host, Lord Doningdale."
+
+The two gentlemen bowed, the rest of the cavalcade surrounded the
+trio, and Lord Doningdale, with a stately yet frank courtesy, invited
+Maltravers to return with the party to his house, which was about
+four miles distant. As may be supposed, Ernest readily accepted the
+invitation. The cavalcade proceeded, and Maltravers hastened to seek an
+explanation from Valerie. It was soon given. Madame de Ventadour had
+a younger sister, who had lately married a son of Lord Doningdale.
+The marriage had been solemnized in Paris, and Monsieur and Madame de
+Ventadour had been in England a week on a visit to the English peer.
+
+The _rencontre_ was so sudden and unexpected that neither recovered
+sufficient self-possession for fluent conversation. The explanation
+given, Valerie sank into a thoughtful silence, and Maltravers rode by
+her side equally taciturn, pondering on the strange chance which, after
+the lapse of years, had thrown them again together.
+
+Lord Doningdale, who at first lingered with his other visitors, now
+joined them, and Maltravers was struck with his high-bred manner, and a
+singular and somewhat elaborate polish in his emphasis and expression.
+They soon entered a noble park, which attested far more care and
+attention than are usually bestowed upon those demesnes, so peculiarly
+English. Young plantations everywhere contrasted the venerable
+groves--new cottages of picturesque design adorned the outskirts--and
+obelisks and columns, copied from the antique, and evidently of recent
+workmanship, gleamed upon them as they neared the house--a large pile,
+in which the fashion of Queen Anne's day had been altered into the
+French roofs and windows of the architecture of the Tuileries. "You
+reside much in the country, I am sure, my lord," said Maltravers.
+
+"Yes," replied Lord Doningdale, with a pensive air, "this place is
+greatly endeared to me. Here his Majesty Louis XVIII., when in England,
+honoured me with an annual visit. In compliment to him, I sought to
+model my poor mansion into an humble likeness of his own palace, so
+that he might as little as possible miss the rights he had lost. His
+own rooms were furnished exactly like those he had occupied at the
+Tuileries. Yes, the place is endeared to me--I think of the old
+times with pride. It is something to have sheltered a Bourbon in his
+misfortunes."
+
+"It cost _milord_ a vast sum to make these alterations," said Madame de
+Ventadour, glancing archly at Maltravers.
+
+"Ah, yes," said the old lord; and his face, lately elated, became
+overcast--"nearly three hundred thousand pounds: but what then?--_'Les
+souvenirs, madame, sont sans prix_!'"
+
+"Have you visited Paris since the restoration, Lord Doningdale," asked
+Maltravers.
+
+His lordship looked at him sharply, and then turned his eye to Madame de
+Ventadour.
+
+"Nay," said Valerie; laughing, "I did not dictate the question."
+
+"Yes," said Lord Doningdale, "I have been at Paris."
+
+"His Majesty must have been delighted to return your lordship's
+hospitality."
+
+Lord Doningdale looked a little embarrassed, and made no reply, but put
+his horse into a canter.
+
+"You have galled our host," said Valerie, smiling. "Louis XVIII. and his
+friends lived here as long as they pleased, and as sumptuously as
+they could; their visits half ruined the owner, who is the model of a
+_gentilhomme_ and _preux chevalier_. He went to Paris to witness
+their triumph; he expected, I fancy, the order of the St. Esprit. Lord
+Doningdale has royal blood in his veins. His Majesty asked him once
+to dinner, and, when he took leave, said to him, 'We are happy, Lord
+Doningdale, to have thus requited our obligations to your lordship.'
+Lord Doningdale went back in dudgeon, yet he still boasts of his
+_souvenirs_, poor man."
+
+"Princes are not grateful, neither are republics," said Maltravers.
+
+"Ah, who is grateful," rejoined Valerie, "except a dog and a woman?"
+
+Maltravers found himself ushered into a vast dressing-room, and was
+informed, by a French valet, that in the country Lord Doningdale dined
+at six--the first bell would ring in a few minutes. While the valet was
+speaking, Lord Doningdale himself entered the room. His lordship had
+learned, in the meanwhile, that Maltravers was of the great and ancient
+commoner's house whose honours were centred in his brother; and yet
+more, that he was the Mr. Maltravers whose writings every one talked of,
+whether for praise or abuse. Lord Doningdale had the two characteristics
+of a high-bred gentleman of the old school--respect for birth and
+respect for talent; he was, therefore, more than ordinarily courteous to
+Ernest, and pressed him to stay some days with so much cordiality, that
+Maltravers could not but assent. His travelling toilet was scanty, but
+Maltravers thought little of dress.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+ "It is the soul that sees. The outward eyes
+  Present the object, but the mind descries;
+  And thence delight, disgust, or cool indifference rise.
+   "CRABBE.
+
+WHEN Maltravers entered the enormous saloon, hung with damask, and
+decorated with the ponderous enrichments and furniture of the time
+of Louis XIV. (that most showy and barbarous of all tastes, which has
+nothing in it of the graceful, nothing of the picturesque, and which,
+nowadays, people who should know better imitate with a ludicrous
+servility), he found sixteen persons assembled. His host stepped up from
+a circle which surrounded him, and formally presented his new visitor
+to the rest. He was struck with the likeness which the sister of
+Valerie bore to Valerie herself; but it was a sobered and chastened
+likeness--less handsome, less impressive. Mrs. George Herbert--such was
+the name she now owned--was a pretty, shrinking, timid girl, fond of her
+husband, and mightily awed by her father-in-law. Maltravers sat by her,
+and drew her into conversation. He could not help pitying the poor lady,
+when he found she was to live altogether at Doningdale Park--remote
+from all the friends and habits of her childhood--alone, so far as the
+affections were concerned, with a young husband, who was passionately
+fond of field-sports, and who, from the few words Ernest exchanged with
+him, seemed to have only three ideas--his dogs, his horses, and his
+wife. Alas! the last would soon be the least in importance. It is a
+sad position--that of a lively young Frenchwoman entombed in an
+English country-house! Marriages with foreigners are seldom fortunate
+experiments. But Ernest's attention was soon diverted from the sister by
+the entrance of Valerie herself, leaning on her husband's arm. Hitherto
+he had not very minutely observed what change time had effected in
+her--perhaps he was half afraid. He now gazed at her with curious
+interest. Valerie was still extremely handsome, but her face had grown
+sharper, her form thinner and more angular; there was something in her
+eye and lip, discontented, restless, almost querulous:--such is the too
+common expression in the face of those born to love, and condemned to
+be indifferent. The little sister was more to be envied of the two--come
+what may, she loved her husband, such as he was, and her heart might
+ache, but it was not with a void.
+
+Monsieur de Ventadour soon shuffled up to Maltravers--his nose longer
+than ever.
+
+"Hein--hein--how d'ye do--how d'ye do?--charmed to see you--saw madame
+before me--hein--hein--I suspect--I suspect--"
+
+"Mr. Maltravers, will you give Madame de Ventadour your arm?" said Lord
+Doningdale, as he stalked on to the dining-room with a duchess on his
+own.
+
+"And you have left Naples," said Maltravers: "left it for good?"
+
+"We do not think of returning."
+
+"It was a charming place--how I loved it!--how well I remember it!"
+Ernest spoke calmly--it was but a general remark.
+
+Valerie sighed gently.
+
+During dinner, the conversation between Maltravers and Madame de
+Ventadour was vague and embarrassed. Ernest was no longer in love with
+her--he had outgrown that youthful fancy. She had exercised influence
+over him--the new influences that he had created had chased away her
+image. Such is life. Long absences extinguish all the false lights,
+though not the true ones. The lamps are dead in the banquet-room of
+yesterday; but a thousand years hence, and the stars we look on to-night
+will burn as brightly. Maltravers was no longer in love with Valerie.
+But Valerie--ah, perhaps _hers_ had been true love!
+
+Maltravers was surprised when he came to examine the state of his own
+feelings--he was surprised to find that his pulse did not beat quicker
+at the touch of one whose very glance had once thrilled him to the
+soul--he was surprised, but rejoiced. He was no longer anxious to seek,
+but to shun excitement, and he was a better and a higher being than he
+had been on the shores of Naples.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+ "Whence that low voice, a whisper from the heart,
+  That told of days long past?"--WORDSWORTH.
+
+ERNEST stayed several days at Lord Doningdale's, and every day he rode
+out with Valerie, but it was with a large party; and every evening he
+conversed with her, but the whole world might have overheard what they
+said. In fact, the sympathy that had once existed between the young
+dreamer and the proud, discontented woman had in much passed away.
+Awakened to vast and grand objects, Maltravers was a dreamer no more.
+Inured to the life of trifles she had once loathed, Valerie had settled
+down into the usages and thoughts of the common world--she had no longer
+the superiority of earthly wisdom over Maltravers, and his romance was
+sobered in its eloquence, and her ear dulled to its tone. Still Ernest
+felt a deep interest in her, and still she seemed to feel a sensitive
+pride in his career.
+
+One evening Maltravers had joined a circle in which Madame de Ventadour,
+with more than her usual animation, presided--and to which, in her
+pretty, womanly, and thoroughly French way, she was lightly laying down
+the law on a hundred subjects--Philosophy, Poetry, Sevres china, and the
+balance of power in Europe. Ernest listened to her, delighted, but not
+enchanted. Yet Valerie was not natural that night--she was speaking from
+forced spirits.
+
+"Well," said Madame de Ventadour at last, tired, perhaps of the part she
+had been playing, and bringing to a sudden close an animated description
+of the then French court--"well, see now if we ought not to be ashamed
+of ourselves--our talk has positively interrupted the music. Did you see
+Lord Doningdale stop it with a bow to me, as much as to say, with his
+courtly reproof, 'It shall not disturb you, madam'? I will no longer be
+accessory to your crime of bad taste!"
+
+With this the Frenchwoman rose, and, gliding through the circle, retired
+to the further end of the room. Ernest followed her with his eyes.
+Suddenly she beckoned to him, and he approached and seated himself by
+her side.
+
+"Mr. Maltravers," said Valerie, then, with great sweetness in her
+voice,--"I have not yet expressed to you the delight I have felt from
+your genius. In absence you have suffered me to converse with you--your
+books have been to me dear friends; as we shall soon part again, let me
+now tell you of this, frankly and without compliment."
+
+This paved the way to a conversation that approached more on the
+precincts of the past than any they had yet known. But Ernest was
+guarded; and Valerie watched his words and looks with an interest she
+could not conceal--an interest that partook of disappointment.
+
+"It is an excitement," said Valerie, "to climb a mountain, though it
+fatigue; and though the clouds may even deny us a prospect from its
+summit--it is an excitement that gives a very universal pleasure, and
+that seems almost as if it were the result of a common human instinct
+which makes us desire to rise--to get above the ordinary thoroughfares
+and level of life. Some such pleasure you must have in intellectual
+ambition, in which the mind is the upward traveller."
+
+"It is not the _ambition_ that pleases," replied Maltravers, "it is the
+following a path congenial to our tastes, and made dear to us in a short
+time by habit. The moments in which we look beyond our work, and fancy
+ourselves seated beneath the Everlasting Laurel, are few. It is the work
+itself, whether of action or literature, that interests and excites
+us. And at length the dryness of toil takes the familiar sweetness of
+custom. But in intellectual labour there is another charm--we become
+more intimate with our own nature. The heart and the soul grow friends,
+as it were, and the affections and the aspirations unite. Thus, we
+are never without society--we are never alone; all that we have read,
+learned and discovered, is company to us. This is pleasant," added
+Maltravers, "to those who have no clear connections in the world
+without."
+
+"And is that your case?" asked Valerie, with a timid smile.
+
+"Alas, yes! and since I conquered one affection,--Madame de Ventadour, I
+almost think I have outlived the capacity of loving. I believe that when
+we cultivate very largely the reason or the imagination, we blunt, to
+a certain extent, our young susceptibilities to the fair impressions
+of real life. From 'idleness,' says the old Roman poet, 'Love feeds his
+torch.'"
+
+"You are too young to talk thus."
+
+"I speak as I feel."
+
+Valerie said no more. Shortly afterwards Lord Doningdale approached
+them, and proposed that they should make an excursion the next day to
+see the ruins of an old abbey, some few miles distant.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+ "If I should meet thee
+  After long years,
+  How shall I greet thee?"--BYRON.
+
+IT was a smaller party than usual the next day, consisting only of
+Lord Doningdale, his son George Herbert, Valerie and Ernest. They were
+returning from the ruins, and the sun, now gradually approaching the
+west, threw its slant rays over the gardens and houses of a small,
+picturesque town, or, perhaps, rather village, on the high North Road.
+It is one of the prettiest places in England, that town or village,
+and boasts an excellent old-fashioned inn, with a large and quaint
+pleasure-garden. It was through the long and straggling street that our
+little party slowly rode, when the sky became suddenly overcast, and, a
+few large hailstones falling, gave notice of an approaching storm.
+
+"I told you we should not get safely through the day," said George
+Herbert. "Now we are in for it."
+
+"George, that is a vulgar expression," said Lord Doningdale, buttoning
+up his coat. While he spoke, a vivid flash of lightning darted across
+their very path, and the sky grew darker and darker.
+
+"We may as well rest at the inn," said Maltravers: "the storm is coming
+on apace, and Madame de Ventadour--"
+
+"You are right," interrupted Lord Doningdale; and he put his horse into
+a canter.
+
+They were soon at the door of the old hotel. Bells rang dogs
+barked--hostlers ran. A plain, dark, travelling post-chariot was before
+the inn-door; and, roused perhaps by the noise below, a lady in the
+"first-floor front, No. 2," came to the window. This lady owned the
+travelling-carriage, and was at this time alone in that apartment. As
+she looked carelessly at the party, her eyes rested on one form--she
+turned pale, uttered a faint cry, and fell senseless on the floor.
+
+Meanwhile, Lord Doningdale and his guests were shown into the room next
+to that tenanted by the lady. Properly speaking, both the rooms made
+one long apartment for balls and county meetings, and the division was
+formed by a thin partition, removable at pleasure. The hail now came on
+fast and heavy, the trees groaned, the thunder roared; and in the large,
+dreary room there was a palpable and oppressive sense of coldness and
+discomfort. Valerie shivered--a fire was lighted--and the Frenchwoman
+drew near to it.
+
+"You are wet, my dear lady," said Lord Doningdale. "You should take off
+that close habit, and have it dried."
+
+"Oh, no; what matters it?" said Valerie bitterly, and almost rudely.
+
+"It matters everything," said Ernest; "pray be ruled."
+
+"And do you care for me?" murmured Valerie.
+
+"Can you ask that question?" replied Ernest, in the same tone, and with
+affectionate and friendly warmth.
+
+Meanwhile, the good old lord had summoned the chambermaid, and, with the
+kindly imperiousness of a father, made Valerie quit the room. The three
+gentlemen, left together, talked of the storm, wondered how long it
+would last, and debated the propriety of sending to Doningdale for the
+carriage. While they spoke, the hail suddenly ceased, though clouds in
+the distant horizon were bearing heavily up to renew the charge. George
+Herbert, who was the most impatient of mortals, especially of rainy
+weather in a strange place, seized the occasion, and insisted on riding
+to Doningdale, and sending back the carriage.
+
+"Surely a groom would do as well, George," said the father.
+
+"My dear father, no; I should envy the rogue too much. I am bored to
+death here. Marie will be frightened about us. Brown Bess will take me
+back in twenty minutes. I am a hardy fellow, you know. Good-bye."
+
+Away darted the young sportsman, and in two minutes they saw him spur
+gaily from the inn-door.
+
+"It is very odd that _I_ should have such a son," said Lord Doningdale,
+musingly,--"a son who cannot amuse himself indoors for two minutes
+together. I took great pains with his education, too. Strange that
+people should weary so much of themselves that they cannot brave the
+prospect of a few minutes passed in reflection--that a shower and the
+resources of their own thoughts are evils so galling--very strange
+indeed. But it is a confounded climate this, certainly. I wonder when it
+will clear up."
+
+Thus muttering, Lord Doningdale walked, or rather marched, to and fro
+the room, with his hands in his coat pockets, and his whip sticking
+perpendicularly out of the right one. Just at this moment the waiter
+came to announce that his lordship's groom was without, and desired much
+to see him. Lord Doningdale had then the pleasure of learning that his
+favourite grey hackney, which he had ridden, winter and summer, for
+fifteen years, was taken with shivers, and, as the groom expressed it,
+seemed to have "the colic in its bowels!"
+
+Lord Doningdale turned pale, and hurried to the stables without saying a
+word.
+
+Maltravers, who, plunged in thought, had not overheard the low and brief
+conference between master and groom, remained alone, seated by the fire,
+his head buried in his bosom, and his arms folded.
+
+Meanwhile, the lady, who occupied the adjoining chamber, had recovered
+slowly from her swoon. She put both hands to her temples, as if trying
+to recollect her thoughts. Hers was a fair, innocent, almost childish
+face; and now, as a smile shot across it, there was something so sweet
+and touching in the gladness it shed over that countenance, that you
+could not have seen it without strong and almost painful interest.
+For it was the gladness of a person who has known sorrow. Suddenly she
+started up, and said: "No, then! I do not dream. He is come back--he is
+here--all will be well again! Ha! it is his voice. Oh, bless him, it is
+_his_ voice!" She paused, her finger on her lip, her face bent down. A
+low and indistinct sound of voices reached her straining ear through the
+thin door that divided her from Maltravers. She listened intently, but
+she could not overhear the import. Her heart beat violently. "He is not
+alone!" she murmured, mournfully. "I will wait till the sound ceases,
+and then I will venture in!"
+
+And what was the conversation carried on in that chamber? We must return
+to Ernest. He was sitting in the same thoughtful posture when Madame de
+Ventadour returned.
+
+The Frenchwoman coloured when she found herself alone with Ernest, and
+Ernest himself was not at his ease.
+
+"Herbert has gone home to order the carriage, and Lord Doningdale has
+disappeared, I scarce know whither. You do not, I trust, feel the worse
+for the rain?"
+
+"No," said Valerie.
+
+"Shall you have any commands in London?" asked Maltravers; "I return to
+town to-morrow."
+
+"So soon!" and Valerie sighed. "Ah!" she added, after a pause, "we
+shall not meet again for years, perhaps. Monsieur de Ventadour is to
+be appointed ambassador to the Court and so--and so--. Well, it is no
+matter. What has become of the friendship we once swore to each other?"
+
+"It is here," said Maltravers, laying his hand on his heart. "Here, at
+least, lies the half of that friendship which was my charge; and more
+than friendship, Valerie de Ventadour--respect--admiration--gratitude.
+At a time of life when passion and fancy, most strong, might have left
+me an idle and worthless voluptuary, you convinced me that the world has
+virtue, and that woman is too noble to be our toy--the idol of to-day,
+the victim of to-morrow. Your influence, Valerie, left me a more
+thoughtful man--I hope a better one."
+
+"Oh!" said Madame de Ventadour, strongly affected; "I bless you for what
+you tell me: you cannot know--you cannot guess how sweet it is to me.
+Now I recognise you once more. What--what did my resolution cost me? Now
+I am repaid!"
+
+Ernest was moved by her emotion, and by his own remembrances; he took
+her hand, and pressing it with frank and respectful tenderness--"I did
+not think, Valerie," said he, "when I reviewed the past, I did not think
+that you loved me--I was not vain enough for that; but, if so, how
+much is your character raised in my eyes--how provident, how wise your
+virtue! Happier and better for both, our present feelings, each to each,
+than if we had indulged a brief and guilty dream of passion, at war with
+all that leaves passion without remorse, and bliss without alloy. Now--"
+
+"Now," interrupted Valerie, quickly, and fixing on him her dark
+eyes--"now you love me no longer! Yet it is better so. Well, I will go
+back to my cold and cheerless state of life, and forget once more that
+Heaven endowed me with a heart!"
+
+"Ah, Valerie! esteemed, revered, still beloved, not indeed with the
+fires of old, but with a deep, undying, and holy tenderness, speak not
+thus to me. Let me not believe you unhappy; let me think that, wise,
+sagacious, brilliant as you are, you have employed your gifts to
+reconcile yourself to a common lot. Still let me look up to you when I
+would despise the circles in which you live, and say: 'On that pedestal
+an altar is yet placed, to which the heart may bring the offerings of
+the soul.'"
+
+"It is in vain--in vain that I struggle," said Valerie, half-choked
+with emotion, and clasping her hands passionately. "Ernest, I love you
+still--I am wretched to think you love me no more: I would give you
+nothing--yet I exact all; my youth is going--my beauty dimmed--my very
+intellect is dulled by the life I lead; and yet I ask from you that
+which your young heart once felt for me. Despise me, Maltravers, I am
+not what I seemed--I am a hypocrite--despise me."
+
+"No," said Ernest, again possessing himself of her hand, and falling on
+his knee by her side. "No, never-to-be-forgotten, ever-to-be-honoured
+Valerie, hear me." As he spoke, he kissed the hand he held; with the
+other, Valerie covered her face and wept bitterly, but in silence.
+Ernest paused till the burst of her feelings had subsided, her hand
+still in his--still warmed by his kisses--kisses as pure as cavalier
+ever impressed on the hand of his queen.
+
+At this time, the door communicating with the next room gently opened.
+A fair form--a form fairer and younger than that of Valerie de
+Ventadour--entered the apartment; the silence had deceived her--she
+believed that Maltravers was alone. She had entered with her heart
+upon her lips; love, sanguine, hopeful love, in every vein, in every
+thought--she had entered dreaming that across that threshold life would
+dawn upon her afresh--that all would be once more as it had been,
+when the common air was rapture. Thus she entered; and now she
+stood spell-bound, terror-stricken, pale as death--life turned to
+stone--youth--hope--bliss were for ever over to her! Ernest kneeling to
+another was all she saw! For this had she been faithful and true amidst
+storm and desolation; for this had she hoped--dreamed--lived. They did
+not note her; she was unseen--unheard. And Ernest, who would have gone
+barefoot to the end of the earth to find her, was in the very room with
+her, and knew it not!
+
+"Call me again _beloved_!" said Valerie, very softly.
+
+"Beloved Valerie, hear me."
+
+These words were enough for the listener; she turned noiselessly away:
+humble as that heart was, it was proud. The door closed on her--she had
+obtained the wish of her whole being--Heaven had heard her prayer--she
+had once more seen the lover of her youth; and thenceforth all was night
+and darkness to her. What matter what became of her? One moment, what
+an effect it produces upon years!--ONE MOMENT!--virtue, crime, glory,
+shame, woe, rapture, rest upon moments! Death itself is but a moment,
+yet Eternity is its successor!
+
+"Hear me!" continued Ernest, unconscious of what had passed--"hear me;
+let us be what human nature and worldly forms seldom allow those of
+opposite sexes to be--friends to each other, and to virtue also--friends
+through time and absence--friends through all the vicissitudes of
+life--friends on whose affection shame and remorse never cast a
+shade--friends who are to meet hereafter! Oh! there is no attachment so
+true, no tie so holy, as that which is founded on the old chivalry of
+loyalty and honour; and which is what love would be, if the heart and
+the soul were unadulterated by clay."
+
+There was in Ernest's countenance an expression so noble, in his voice
+a tone so thrilling, that Valerie was brought back at once to the
+nature which a momentary weakness had subdued. She looked at him with
+an admiring and grateful gaze, and then said, in a calm but low voice,
+"Ernest, I understand you; yes, your friendship is dearer to me than
+love."
+
+At this time they heard the voice of Lord Doningdale on the stairs.
+Valerie turned away. Maltravers, as he rose, extended his hand; she
+pressed it warmly, and the spell was broken, the temptation conquered,
+the ordeal passed. While Lord Doningdale entered the room, the carriage,
+with Herbert in it, drove to the door. In a few minutes the little
+party were within the vehicle. As they drove away, the hostlers were
+harnessing the horses to the dark green travelling-carriage. From the
+window, a sad and straining eye gazed upon the gayer equipage of the
+peer--that eye which Maltravers would have given his whole fortune to
+meet again. But he did not look up; and Alice Darvil turned away, and
+her fate was fixed!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+ "Strange fits of passion I have known.
+   And I will dare to tell."--WORDSWORTH.
+
+ "* * * * * The food of hope
+  Is meditated action."--WORDSWORTH.
+
+MALTRAVERS left Doningdale the next day. He had no further conversation
+with Valerie; but when he took leave of her, she placed in his hand a
+letter, which he read as he rode slowly through the beech avenues of the
+park. Translated, it ran thus:
+
+
+"Others would despise me for the weakness I showed--but you will not!
+It is the sole weakness of a life. None can know what I have passed
+through--what hours of dejection and gloom. I, whom so many envy! Better
+to have been a peasant girl, with love, than a queen whose life is but
+a dull mechanism. You, Maltravers, I never forgot in absence; and your
+image made yet more wearisome and trite the things around me. Years
+passed, and your name was suddenly on men's lips. I heard of you
+wherever I went--I could not shut you from me. Your fame was as if you
+were conversing by my side. We met at last, suddenly and unexpectedly.
+I saw that you loved me no more, and that thought conquered all my
+resolves: anguish subdues the nerves of the mind as sickness those of
+the body. And thus I forgot, and humbled, and might have undone myself.
+Juster and better thoughts are once more awakened within me, and when
+we meet again I shall be worthy of your respect. I see how dangerous are
+that luxury of thought, that sin of discontent which I indulged. I
+go back to life, resolved to vanquish all that can interfere with its
+claims and duties. Heaven guide and preserve you, Ernest. Think of me
+as one whom you will not blush to have loved--whom you will not blush
+hereafter to present to your wife. With so much that is soft, as well as
+great within you, you were not formed like me--to be alone.
+
+   "FAREWELL!"
+
+
+Maltravers read, and re-read this letter; and when he reached his home,
+he placed it carefully amongst the things he most valued. A lock of
+Alice's hair lay beside it--he did not think that either was dishonoured
+by the contact.
+
+With an effort, he turned himself once more to those stern yet high
+connections which literature makes with real life. Perhaps there was a
+certain restlessness in his heart which induced him ever to occupy his
+mind. That was one of the busiest years of his life--the one in which he
+did most to sharpen jealousy and confirm fame.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+ "In effect he entered my apartment."--_Gil Blas_.
+
+ "'I am surprised,' said he, 'at the caprice of Fortune,
+  who sometimes delights in loading an execrable author
+  with favours, whilst she leaves good writers to perish
+  for want.'"--_Gil Blas_.
+
+IT was just twelve months after his last interview with Valerie, and
+Madame de Ventadour had long since quitted England, when one morning, as
+Maltravers sat alone in his study, Castruccio Cesarini was announced.
+
+"Ah, my dear Castruccio, how are you?" cried Maltravers, eagerly, as the
+opening door presented the form of the Italian.
+
+"Sir," said Castruccio, with great stiffness, and speaking in French,
+which was his wont when he meant to be distant--"sir, I do not come
+to renew our former acquaintance--you are a great man [here a bitter
+sneer], I an obscure one [here Castruccio drew himself up]--I only come
+to discharge a debt to you which I find I have incurred."
+
+"What tone is this, Castruccio; and what debt do you speak of?"
+
+"On my arrival in town yesterday," said the poet solemnly, "I went to
+the man whom you deputed some years since to publish my little volume,
+to demand an account of its success; and I found that it had cost one
+hundred and twenty pounds, deducting the sale of forty-nine copies which
+had been sold. _Your_ books sell some thousands, I am told. It is
+well contrived--mine fell still-born, no pains were taken with it--no
+matter--[a wave of the hand]. You discharged this debt, I repay you:
+there is a cheque for the money. Sir, I have done! I wish you a good
+day, and health to enjoy _your_ reputation."
+
+"Why, Cesarini, this is folly."
+
+"Sir--"
+
+"Yes, it is folly; for there is no folly equal to that of throwing away
+friendship in a world where friendship is so rare. You insinuate that I
+am to blame for any neglect which your work experienced. Your publisher
+can tell you that I was more anxious about your book than I have ever
+been about my own."
+
+"And the proof is that forty-nine copies were sold!"
+
+"Sit down, Castruccio; sit down, and listen to reason;" and Maltravers
+proceeded to explain, and soothe, and console. He reminded the poor
+poet that his verses were written in a foreign tongue--that even English
+poets of great fame enjoyed but a limited sale for their works--that it
+was impossible to make the avaricious public purchase what the stupid
+public would not take an interest in--in short, he used all those
+arguments which naturally suggested themselves as best calculated to
+convince and soften Castruccio; and he did this with so much evident
+sympathy and kindness, that at length the Italian could no longer
+justify his own resentment. A reconciliation took place, sincere on the
+part of Maltravers, hollow on the part of Cesarini; for the disappointed
+author could not forgive the successful one.
+
+"And how long shall you stay in London?"
+
+"Some months."
+
+"Send for your luggage, and be my guest."
+
+"No; I have taken lodgings that suit me. I am formed for solitude."
+
+"While you stay here, you will, however, go into the world."
+
+"Yes, I have some letters of introduction, and I hear that the English
+can honour merit, even in an Italian."
+
+"You hear the truth, and it will amuse you, at least, to see our eminent
+men. They will receive you most hospitably. Let me assist you as a
+cicerone."
+
+"Oh, your _valuable_ time!"
+
+"Is at your disposal: but where are you going?"
+
+"It is Sunday, and I have had my curiosity excited to hear a celebrated
+preacher--Mr. ------, who they tell me, is now more talked of than _any
+author_ in London."
+
+"They tell you truly--I will go with you--I myself have not yet heard
+him, but proposed to do so this very day."
+
+"Are you not jealous of a man so much spoken of?"
+
+"Jealous!--why, I never set up for a popular preacher!--_ce n'est pas
+mon metier_."
+
+"If I were a _successful_ author, I should be jealous if the
+dancing-dogs were talked of."
+
+"No, my dear Cesarini, I am sure you would not. You are a little
+irritated at present by natural disappointment; but the man who has as
+much success as he deserves is never morbidly jealous, even of a rival
+in his own line. Want of success sours us; but a little sunshine smiles
+away the vapours. Come, we have no time to lose."
+
+Maltravers took his hat, and the two young men bent their way to ------
+Chapel. Cesarini still retained the singular fashion of his dress,
+though it was now made of handsomer materials, and worn with more
+coxcombry and pretension. He had much improved in person--had been
+admired in Paris, and told that he looked like a man of genius--and,
+with his black ringlets flowing over his shoulders, his long moustache,
+his broad Spanish-shaped hat, and eccentric garb, he certainly did not
+look like other people. He smiled with contempt at the plain dress of
+his companion. "I see," said he, "that you follow the fashion, and look
+as if you passed your life with _elegans_ instead of students. I wonder
+you condescend to such trifles as fashionably-shaped hats and coats."
+
+"It would be worse trifling to set up for originality in hats and
+coats, at least in sober England. I was born a gentleman, and I dress my
+outward frame like others of my order. Because I am a writer, why should
+I affect to be different from other men?"
+
+"I see that you are not above the weakness of your countryman Congreve,"
+said Cesarini, "who deemed it finer to be a gentleman than an author."
+
+"I always thought that anecdote misconstrued. Congreve had a proper and
+manly pride, to my judgment, when he expressed a dislike to be visited
+merely as a raree-show."
+
+"But is it policy to let the world see that an author is like other
+people? Would he not create a deeper personal interest if he showed
+that even in person alone he was unlike the herd? He ought to be seen
+seldom--not to stale his presence--and to resort to the arts that belong
+to the royalty of intellect as well as the royalty of birth."
+
+"I dare say an author, by a little charlatanism of that nature, might be
+more talked of--might be more adored in the boarding-schools, and make a
+better picture in the exhibition. But I think, if his mind be manly,
+he would lose in self-respect at every quackery of the sort. And my
+philosophy is, that to respect oneself is worth all the fame in the
+world."
+
+Cesarini sneered and shrugged his shoulders; it was quite evident that
+the two authors had no sympathy with each other.
+
+They arrived at last at the chapel, and with some difficulty procured
+seats.
+
+Presently the service began. The preacher was a man of unquestionable
+talent and fervid eloquence; but his theatrical arts, his affected
+dress, his artificial tones and gestures; and, above all, the fanatical
+mummeries which he introduced into the House of God, disgusted
+Maltravers, while they charmed, entranced, and awed Cesarini. The one
+saw a mountebank and impostor--the other recognised a profound artist
+and an inspired prophet.
+
+But while the discourse was drawing towards a close, while the preacher
+was in one of his most eloquent bursts--the ohs! and ahs! of which
+were the grand prelude to the pathetic peroration--the dim outline of a
+female form, in the distance, riveted the eyes and absorbed the thoughts
+of Maltravers. The chapel was darkened, though it was broad daylight;
+and the face of the person that attracted Ernest's attention was
+concealed by her head-dress and veil. But that bend of the neck, so
+simply graceful, so humbly modest, recalled to his heart but one image.
+Every one has, perhaps, observed that there is a physiognomy (if the
+bull may be pardoned) of _form_ as well as face, which it rarely happens
+that two persons possess in common. And this, with most, is peculiarly
+marked in the turn of the head, the outline of the shoulders, and the
+ineffable something that characterises the postures of each individual
+in repose. The more intently he gazed, the more firmly Ernest
+was persuaded that he saw before him the long-lost, the
+never-to-be-forgotten mistress of his boyish days, and his first love.
+On one side of the lady in question sat an elderly gentleman, whose eyes
+were fixed upon the preacher; on the other, a beautiful little girl,
+with long fair ringlets, and that cast of features which, from its
+exquisite delicacy and expressive mildness, painters and poets call
+the "angelic." These persons appeared to belong to the same party.
+Maltravers literally trembled, so great were his impatience and
+agitation. Yet still, the dress of the supposed likeness of Alice, the
+appearance of her companions, were so evidently above the ordinary rank,
+that Ernest scarcely ventured to yield to the suggestions of his own
+heart. Was it possible that the daughter of Luke Darvil, thrown upon
+the wide world, could have risen so far beyond her circumstances and
+station? At length the moment came when he might resolve his doubts--the
+discourse was concluded--the extemporaneous prayer was at an end--the
+congregation broke up, and Maltravers pushed his way, as well as he
+could, through the dense and serried crowd. But every moment some
+vexatious obstruction, in the shape of a fat gentleman or three
+close-wedged ladies, intercepted his progress. He lost sight of the
+party in question amidst the profusion of tall bonnets and waving
+plumes. He arrived at last, breathless and pale as death (so great was
+the struggle within him), at the door of the chapel. He arrived in time
+to see a plain carriage with servants in grey undress liveries, driving
+from the porch--and caught a glimpse, within the vehicle, of the golden
+ringlets of a child. He darted forward, he threw himself almost before
+the horses. The coachman drew in, and with an angry exclamation, very
+much like an oath, whipped his horses aside and went off. But that
+momentary pause sufficed.--"It is she--it is! O Heaven, it is Alice!"
+murmured Maltravers. The whole place reeled before his eyes, and he
+clung, overpowered and unconscious, to a neighbouring lamp-post for
+support. But he recovered himself with an agonising effort, as the
+thought struck upon this heart that he was about to lose sight of her
+again for ever. And he rushed forward, like one frantic, in pursuit of
+the carriage. But there was a vast crowd of other carriages, besides
+stream upon stream of foot-passengers,--for the great and the gay
+resorted to that place of worship, as a fashionable excitement in a
+dull day. And after a weary and a dangerous chase, in which he had been
+nearly run over three times, Maltravers halted at last, exhausted and
+in despair. Every succeeding Sunday, for months, he went to the same
+chapel, but in vain; in vain, too, he resorted to every public haunt of
+dissipation and amusement. Alice Darvil he beheld no more!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+        "Tell me, sir,
+  Have you cast up your state, rated your land,
+  And find it able to endure the charge?"
+   _The Noble Gentleman_.
+
+By degrees, as Maltravers sobered down from the first shock of that
+unexpected meeting, and from the prolonged disappointment that followed
+it, he became sensible of a strange kind of happiness or contentment.
+Alice was not in poverty, she was not eating the unhallowed bread of
+vice, or earning the bitter wages of laborious penury. He saw her in
+reputable, nay, opulent circumstances. A dark nightmare, that had often,
+amidst the pleasures of youth, or the triumphs of literature, weighed
+upon his breast, was removed. He breathed more freely--he could sleep
+in peace. His conscience could no longer say to him, "She who slept upon
+thy bosom is a wanderer upon the face of the earth--exposed to every
+temptation, perishing perhaps for want." That single sight of Alice
+had been like the apparition of the injured Dead conjured up at
+Heraclea--whose sight could pacify the aggressor and exorcise the
+spectres of remorse. He was reconciled with himself, and walked on to
+the Future with a bolder step and a statelier crest. Was she married to
+that staid and sober-looking personage whom he had beheld with her?
+was that child the offspring of their union? He almost hoped so--it was
+better to lose than to destroy her. Poor Alice! could she have dreamed,
+when she sat at his feet gazing up into his eyes, that a time would come
+when Maltravers would thank Heaven for the belief that she was happy
+with another?
+
+Ernest Maltravers now felt a new man: the relief of conscience operated
+on the efforts of his genius. A more buoyant and elastic spirit entered
+into them--they seemed to breathe as with a second youth.
+
+Meanwhile, Cesarini threw himself into the fashionable world, and to his
+own surprise was _feted_ and caressed. In fact, Castruccio was exactly
+the sort of person to be made a lion of. The letters of introduction
+that he had brought from Paris were addressed to those great personages
+in England between whom and personages equally great in France
+politics makes a bridge of connection. Cesarini appeared to them as an
+accomplished young man, brother-in-law to a distinguished member of the
+French Chamber. Maltravers, on the other hand, introduced him to the
+literary dilettanti, who admire all authors that are not rivals. The
+singular costume of Cesarini, which would have revolted persons in an
+Englishman, enchanted them in an Italian. He looked, they said, like
+a poet. Ladies like to have verses written to them, and Cesarini, who
+talked very little, made up for it by scribbling eternally. The young
+man's head soon grew filled with comparisons between himself in London
+and Petrarch at Avignon. As he had always thought that fame was in the
+gift of lords and ladies, and had no idea of the multitude, he fancied
+himself already famous. And, since one of his strongest feelings was
+his jealousy of Maltravers, he was delighted at being told he was a
+much more interesting creature than that haughty personage, who wore
+his neckcloth like other people, and had not even those indispensable
+attributes of genius--black curls and a sneer. Fine society, which, as
+Madame de Stael well says, depraves the frivolous mind and braces the
+strong one, completed the ruin of all that was manly in Cesarini's
+intellect. He soon learned to limit his desire of effect or distinction
+to gilded saloons; and his vanity contented itself upon the scraps and
+morsels from which the lion heart of true ambition turns in disdain.
+But this was not all. Cesarini was envious of the greater affluence
+of Maltravers. His own fortune was in a small capital of eight or nine
+thousand pounds: but, thrown in the midst of the wealthiest society in
+Europe, he could not bear to sacrifice a single claim upon its esteem.
+He began to talk of the satiety of wealth, and young ladies listened to
+him with remarkable interest when he did so--he obtained the reputation
+of riches--he was too vain not to be charmed with it. He endeavoured to
+maintain the claim by adopting the extravagant excesses of the day. He
+bought horses--he gave away jewels--he made love to a marchioness
+of forty-two, who was very kind to him and very fond of _ecarte_--he
+gambled--he was in the high road to destruction.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK VI.
+
+  Perchance you say that gold's the arch-exceller,
+  And to be rich is sweet?--EURIP. _Ion._, line 641.
+
+  * * * 'Tis not to be endured,
+  To yield our trodden path and turn aside,
+  Giving our place to knaves.--_Ibid._, line 648
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ "L'adresse et l'artifice out passe dans mon coeur;
+  Qu'ou a sous cet habit et d'esprit et de ruse."*--REGNARD.
+
+* Subtility and craft have taken possession of my heart; but under this
+habit one exhibits both shrewdness and wit.
+
+IT was a fine morning in July, when a gentleman who had arrived in town
+the night before--after an absence from England of several years--walked
+slowly and musingly up the superb thoroughfare which connects the
+Regent's park with St. James's.
+
+He was a man, who, with great powers of mind, had wasted his youth in
+a wandering vagabond kind of life, but who had worn away the love of
+pleasure, and began to awaken to a sense of ambition.
+
+"It is astonishing how this city is improved," said he to himself.
+"Everything gets on in this world with a little energy and bustle--and
+everybody as well as everything. My old cronies, fellows not half so
+clever as I am, are all doing well. There's Tom Stevens, my very fag at
+Eton--snivelling little dog he was too!--just made under-secretary
+of state. Pearson, whose longs and shorts I always wrote, is now
+head-master to the human longs and shorts of a public school--editing
+Greek plays, and booked for a bishopric. Collier, I see by the papers,
+is leading his circuit--and Ernest Maltravers (but _he_ had some talent)
+has made a name in the world. Here am I, worth them all put together,
+who have done nothing but spend half my little fortune in spite of all
+my economy. Egad, this must have an end. I must look to the main chance;
+and yet, just when I want his help the most, my worthy uncle thinks fit
+to marry again. Humph--I'm too good for this world."
+
+While thus musing, the soliloquist came in direct personal contact with
+a tall gentleman, who carried his head very high in the air, and did not
+appear to see that he had nearly thrown our abstracted philosopher off
+his legs.
+
+"Zounds, sir, what do you mean?" cried the latter.
+
+"I beg your par--" began the other, meekly, when his arm was seized,
+and the injured man exclaimed, "Bless me, sir, is it indeed _you_ whom I
+see?"
+
+"Ha!--Lumley?"
+
+"The same; and how fares it, any dear uncle? I did not know you were in
+London. I only arrived last night. How well you are looking!"
+
+"Why, yes, Heaven be praised, I am pretty well."
+
+"And happy in your new ties? You must present me to Mrs. Templeton."
+
+"Ehem," said Mr. Templeton, clearing his throat, and with a slight but
+embarrassed smile, "I never thought I should marry again."
+
+"_L'homme propose et Dieu dispose_," observed Lumley Ferrers; for it was
+he.
+
+"Gently, my dear nephew," replied Mr. Templeton, gravely; "those phrases
+are somewhat sacrilegious; I am an old-fashioned person, you know."
+
+"Ten thousand apologies."
+
+"_One_ apology will suffice; these hyperboles of phrase are almost
+sinful."
+
+"Confounded old prig!" thought Ferrers; but he bowed sanctimoniously.
+
+"My dear uncle, I have been a wild fellow in my day; but with years
+comes reflection; and under your guidance, if I may hope for it, I trust
+to grow a wiser and a better man."
+
+"It is well, Lumley," returned the uncle, "and I am very glad to see
+you returned to your own country. Will you dine with me to-morrow? I am
+living near Fulham. You had better bring your carpet-bag, and stay with
+me some days; you will be heartily welcome, especially if you can shift
+without a foreign servant. I have a great compassion for papists, but--"
+
+"Oh, my dear uncle, do not fear; I am not rich enough to have a foreign
+servant, and have not travelled over three-quarters of the globe without
+learning that it is possible to dispense with a valet."
+
+"As to being rich enough," observed Mr. Templeton, with a calculating
+air, "seven hundred and ninety-five pounds ten shillings a year will
+allow a man to keep two servants, if he pleases; but I am glad to find
+you economical at all events. We meet to-morrow, then, at six o'clock."
+
+"_Au revoir_--I mean, God bless you.
+
+"Tiresome old gentleman that," muttered Ferrers, "and not so cordial as
+formerly; perhaps his wife is _enceinte_, and he is going to do me
+the injustice of having another heir. I must look to this; for without
+riches, I had better go back and live _au cinquieme_ at Paris."
+
+With this conclusion, Lumley quickened his pace, and soon arrived at
+Seamore Place. In a few moments more he was in the library well stored
+with books, and decorated with marble busts and images from the studios
+of Canova and Thorwaldsen.
+
+"My master, sir, will be down immediately," said the servant who
+admitted him; and Ferrers threw himself on a sofa, and contemplated the
+apartment with an air half envious and half cynical.
+
+Presently the door opened, and "My dear Ferrers!" "Well, _mon cher_, how
+are you?" were the salutations hastily exchanged.
+
+After the first sentences of inquiry, gratulation, and welcome, had
+cleared the way for more general conversation,--"Well, Maltravers," said
+Ferrers, "so here we are together again, and after a lapse of so many
+years! both older, certainly; and you, I suppose, wiser. At all events,
+people think you so; and that's all that's important in the question.
+Why, man, you are looking as young as ever, only a little paler and
+thinner; but look at me--I am not very _much_ past thirty, and I am
+almost an old man; bald at the temples, crows' feet, too, eh! Idleness
+ages one damnably."
+
+"Pooh, Lumley, I never saw you look better. And are you really come to
+settle in England?"
+
+"Yes, if I can afford it. But at my age, and after having seen so much,
+the life of an idle, obscure _garcon_ does not content me. I feel that
+the world's opinion, which I used to despise, is growing necessary to
+me. I want to be something. What can I be? Don't look alarmed, I won't
+rival you. I dare say literary reputation is a fine thing, but I
+desire some distinction more substantial and worldly. You know your own
+country; give me a map of the roads to Power."
+
+"To Power! Oh, nothing but law, politics, and riches."
+
+"For law I am too old; politics, perhaps, might suit me; but riches, my
+dear Ernest--ah, how I long for a good account with my banker!"
+
+"Well, patience and hope. Are you are not a rich uncle's heir?"
+
+"I don't know," said Ferrers, very dolorously; "the old gentleman has
+married again, and may have a family."
+
+"Married!--to whom?"
+
+"A widow, I hear; I know nothing more, except that she has a child
+already. So you see she has got into a cursed way of having children.
+And perhaps, by the time I'm forty, I shall see a whole covey of cherubs
+flying away with the great Templeton property!"
+
+"Ha, ha; your despair sharpens your wit, Lumley; but why not take a leaf
+out of your uncle's book, and marry yourself?"
+
+"So I will when I can find an heiress. If that is what you meant to
+say--it is a more sensible suggestion than any I could have supposed to
+come from a man who writes books, especially poetry: and your advice is
+not to be despised. For rich I will be; and as the fathers (I don't
+mean of the Church, but in Horace) told the rising generation, the first
+thing is to resolve to be rich, it is only the second thing to consider
+how."
+
+"Meanwhile, Ferrers, you will be my guest."
+
+"I'll dine with you to-day; but to-morrow I am off to Fulham, to be
+introduced to my aunt. Can't you fancy her?--grey _gros-de-Naples_ gown:
+gold chain with an eyeglass; rather fat; two pugs, and a parrot! 'Start
+not, this is fancy's sketch!' I have not yet seen the respectable
+relative with my physical optics. What shall we have for dinner? Let
+me choose, you were always a bad caterer." As Ferrers thus rattled on,
+Maltravers felt himself growing younger: old times and old adventures
+crowded fast upon him; and the two friends spent a most agreeable day
+together. It was only the next morning that Maltravers, in thinking
+over the various conversations that had passed between them, was forced
+reluctantly to acknowledge that the inert selfishness of Lumley Ferrers
+seemed now to have hardened into a resolute and systematic want of
+principle, which might, perhaps, make him a dangerous and designing man,
+if urged by circumstances into action.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+ "_Dauph._ Sir, I must speak to you. I have been long your
+  despised kinsman.
+
+ "_Morose._ Oh, what thou wilt, nephew."--EPICENE.
+
+ "Her silence is dowry eno'--exceedingly soft spoken; thrifty
+  of her speech, that spends but six words a day."--_Ibid._
+
+THE coach dropped Mr. Ferrers at the gate of a villa about three miles
+from town. The lodge-keeper charged himself with the carpet-bag, and
+Ferrers strolled, with his hands behind him (it was his favourite
+mode of disposing of them), through the beautiful and elaborate
+pleasure-grounds.
+
+"A very nice, snug little box (jointure-house, I suppose)! I would not
+grudge that, I'm sure, if I had but the rest. But here, I suspect, comes
+madam's first specimen of the art of having a family." This last thought
+was extracted from Mr. Ferrers's contemplative brain by a lovely little
+girl, who came running up to him, fearless and spoilt as she was; and,
+after indulging a tolerable stare, exclaimed, "Are you come to see papa,
+sir?"
+
+"Papa!--the deuce!"--thought Lumley; "and who is papa, my dear?"
+
+"Why, mamma's husband. He is not my papa by rights."
+
+"Certainly not, my love; not by rights--I comprehend."
+
+"Eh!"
+
+"Yes, I am going to see your papa by wrongs--Mr. Templeton."
+
+"Oh, this way, then."
+
+"You are very fond of Mr. Templeton, my little angel."
+
+"To be sure I am. You have not seen the rocking-horse he is going to
+give me."
+
+"Not yet, sweet child! And how is mamma?"
+
+"Oh, poor, dear mamma," said the child, with a sudden change of voice,
+and tears in her eyes. "Ah, she is not well!"
+
+"In the family way, to a dead certainty!" muttered Ferrers with a groan:
+"but here is my uncle. Horrid name! Uncles were always wicked fellows.
+Richard the Third and the man who did something or other to the babes in
+the wood were a joke to my hard-hearted old relation, who has robbed me
+with a widow! The lustful, liquorish old--My _dear_ sir, I'm so glad to
+see you!"
+
+Mr. Templeton, who was a man very cold in his manners, and always either
+looked over people's heads or down upon the ground, just touched his
+nephew's outstretched hand, and telling him he was welcome, observed
+that it was a very fine afternoon.
+
+"Very, indeed; sweet place this; you see, by the way, that I have
+already made acquaintance with my fair cousin-in-law. She is very
+pretty."
+
+"I really think she is," said Mr. Templeton, with some warmth, and
+gazing fondly at the child, who was now throwing buttercups up in the
+air, and trying to catch them. Mr. Ferrers wished in his heart that they
+had been brickbats!
+
+"Is she like her mother?" asked the nephew.
+
+"Like whom, sir?"
+
+"Her mother--Mrs. Templeton."
+
+"No, not very; there is an air, perhaps, but the likeness is not
+remarkably strong. Would you not like to go to your room before dinner?"
+
+"Thank you. Can I not first be presented to Mrs. Tem--"
+
+"She is at her devotions, Mr. Lumley," interrupted Mr. Templeton,
+grimly.
+
+"The she-hypocrite!" thought Ferrers. "Oh, I am delighted that your
+pious heart has found so congenial a helpmate!"
+
+"It is a great blessing, and I am grateful for it. This is the way to
+the house."
+
+Lumley, now formally installed in a grave bedroom, with dimity curtains
+and dark-brown paper with light-brown stars on it, threw himself into
+a large chair, and yawned and stretched with as much fervour as if he
+could have yawned and stretched himself into his uncle's property. He
+then slowly exchanged his morning dress for a quiet suit of black, and
+thanked his stars that, amidst all his sins, he had never been a dandy,
+and had never rejoiced in a fine waistcoat--a criminal possession that
+he well knew would have entirely hardened his uncle's conscience
+against him. He tarried in his room till the second bell summoned him to
+descend; and then, entering the drawing-room, which had a cold look
+even in July, found his uncle standing by the mantelpiece, and a young,
+slight, handsome woman, half-buried in a huge but not comfortable
+_fauteuil_.
+
+"Your aunt, Mrs. Templeton; madam, my nephew, Mr. Lumley Ferrers," said
+Templeton, with a wave of the hand.
+
+"John,--dinner!"
+
+"I hope I am not late!"
+
+"No," said Templeton, gently, for he had always liked his nephew, and
+began now to thaw towards him a little on seeing that Lumley put a good
+face upon the new state of affairs.
+
+"No, my dear boy--no; but I think order and punctuality cardinal virtues
+in a well-regulated family."
+
+"Dinner, sir," said the butler, opening the folding-doors at the end of
+the room.
+
+"Permit me," said Lumley, offering his arm to his aunt. "What a lovely
+place this is!"
+
+Mrs. Templeton said something in reply, but what it was Ferrers could
+not discover, so low and choked was the voice.
+
+"Shy," thought he: "odd for a widow! but that's the way those
+husband-buriers take us in!"
+
+Plain as was the general furniture of the apartment, the natural
+ostentation of Mr. Templeton broke out in the massive value of the
+plate, and the number of the attendants. He was a rich man, and he
+was proud of his riches: he knew it was respectable to be rich, and he
+thought it was moral to be respectable. As for the dinner, Lumley knew
+enough of his uncle's tastes to be prepared for viands and wines that
+even he (fastidious gourmand as he was) did not despise.
+
+Between the intervals of eating, Mr. Ferrers endeavoured to draw his
+aunt into conversation, but he found all his ingenuity fail him. There
+was, in the features of Mrs. Templeton, an expression of deep but
+calm melancholy, that would have saddened most persons to look upon,
+especially in one so young and lovely. It was evidently something beyond
+shyness or reserve that made her so silent and subdued, and even in
+her silence there was so much natural sweetness, that Ferrers could not
+ascribe her manner to haughtiness or the desire to repel. He was rather
+puzzled; "for though," thought he, sensibly enough, "my uncle is not a
+youth, he is a very rich fellow; and how any widow, who is married again
+to a rich old fellow, can be melancholy, passes my understanding!"
+
+Templeton, as if to draw attention from his wife's taciturnity, talked
+more than usual. He entered largely into politics, and regretted that in
+times so critical he was not in parliament.
+
+"Did I possess your youth and your health, Lumley, I would not neglect
+my country--Popery is abroad."
+
+"I myself should like very much to be in parliament," said Lumley,
+boldly.
+
+"I dare say you would," returned the uncle, drily. "Parliament is very
+expensive--only fit for those who have a large stake in the country.
+Champagne to Mr. Ferrers."
+
+Lumley bit his lip, and spoke little during the rest of the dinner. Mr.
+Templeton, however, waxed gracious by the time the dessert was on the
+table; and began cutting up a pineapple, with many assurances to Lumley
+that gardens were nothing without pineries. "Whenever you settle in the
+country, nephew, be sure you have a pinery."
+
+"Oh, yes," said Lumley, almost bitterly, "and a pack of hounds, and a
+French cook; they will all suit my fortune very well."
+
+"You are more thoughtful on pecuniary matters than you used to be," said
+the uncle.
+
+"Sir," replied Ferrers, solemnly, "in a very short time I shall be what
+is called a middle-aged man."
+
+"Humph!" said the host.
+
+There was another silence. Lumley was a man, as we have said, or implied
+before, of great knowledge of human nature, at least the ordinary sort
+of it, and he now revolved in his mind the various courses it might
+be wise to pursue towards his rich relation. He saw that, in delicate
+fencing, his uncle had over him the same advantage that a tall man has
+over a short one with the physical sword-play;--by holding his weapon in
+a proper position, he kept the other at arm's length. There was a grand
+reserve and dignity about the man who had something to give away, of
+which Ferrers, however actively he might shift his ground and flourish
+his rapier, could not break the defence. He determined, therefore, upon
+a new game, for which his frankness of manner admirably adapted him.
+Just as he formed this resolution, Mrs. Templeton rose, and with a
+gentle bow, and soft though languid smile, glided from the room. The
+two gentlemen resettled themselves, and Templeton pushed the bottle to
+Ferrers.
+
+"Help yourself, Lumley! your travels seem to have deprived you of your
+high spirits--you are pensive."
+
+"Sir," said Ferrers, abruptly, "I wish to consult you."
+
+"Oh, young man! you have been guilty of some excess--you have
+gambled--you have--"
+
+"I have done nothing, sir, that should make me less worthy your esteem.
+I repeat, I wish to consult you; I have outlived the hot days of my
+youth--I am now alive to the claims of the world. I have talents, I
+believe; and I have application, I know. I wish to fill a position in
+the world that may redeem my past indolence, and do credit to my family.
+Sir, I set your example before me, and I now ask your counsel, with the
+determination to follow it."
+
+Templeton was startled; he half shaded his face with his hand, and
+gazed searchingly upon the high forehead and bold eyes of his nephew. "I
+believe you are sincere," said he, after a pause.
+
+"You may well believe so, sir."
+
+"Well, I will think of this. I like an honourable ambition--not too
+extravagant a one,--_that_ is sinful; but a _respectable_ station in the
+world is a proper object of desire, and wealth is a blessing; because,"
+added the rich man, taking another slice of the pineapple,--"it enables
+us to be of use to our fellow-creatures!"
+
+"Sir, then," said Ferrers, with daring animation--"then I avow that my
+ambition is precisely of the kind you speak of. I am obscure, I desire
+to be reputably known; my fortune is mediocre, I desire it to be
+great. I ask you for nothing--I know your generous heart; but I wish
+independently to work out my own career."
+
+"Lumley," said Templeton, "I never esteemed you so much as I do now.
+Listen to me--I will confide in you; I think the government are under
+obligations to me."
+
+"I know it," exclaimed Ferrers, whose eyes sparkled at the thought of a
+sinecure--for sinecures then existed!
+
+"And," pursued the uncle, "I intend to ask them a favour in return."
+
+"Oh, sir!"
+
+"Yes; I think--mark me--with management and address, I may--"
+
+"Well, my dear sir!"
+
+"Obtain a barony for myself and heirs; I trust I shall soon have a
+family!"
+
+Had somebody given Lumley Ferrers a hearty cuff on the ear, he would
+have thought less of it than of this wind-up of his uncle's ambitious
+projects. His jaws fell, his eyes grew an inch larger, and he remained
+perfectly speechless.
+
+"Ay," pursued Mr. Templeton, "I have long dreamed this; my character
+is spotless, my fortune great. I have ever exerted my parliamentary
+influence in favour of ministers; and, in this commercial country,
+no man has higher claims than Richard Templeton to the honours of
+a virtuous, loyal, and religious state. Yes, my boy,--I like your
+ambition--you see I have some of it myself; and since you are sincere
+in your wish to tread in my footsteps, I think I can obtain you a junior
+partnership in a highly respectable establishment. Let me see; your
+capital now is--
+
+"Pardon me, sir," interrupted Lumley, colouring with indignation despite
+himself; "I honour commerce much, but my paternal relations are not such
+as would allow me to enter into trade. And permit me to add," continued
+he, seizing with instant adroitness the new weakness presented to
+him--"permit me to add, that those relations, who have been ever kind to
+me, would, properly managed, be highly efficient in promoting your own
+views of advancement; for your sake I would not break with them. Lord
+Saxingham is still a minister--nay, he is in the cabinet."
+
+"Hem--Lumley--hem!" said Templeton, thoughtfully; "we will consider--we
+will consider. Any more wine?"
+
+"No, I thank you, sir."
+
+"Then I'll just take my evening stroll, and think over matters. You
+can rejoin Mrs. Templeton. And I say, Lumley,--I read prayers at nine
+o'clock. Never forget your Maker, and He will not forget you. The barony
+will be an excellent thing--eh?--an English peerage--yes--an English
+peerage! very different from your beggarly countships abroad!"
+
+So saying, Mr. Templeton rang for his hat and cane, and stepped into the
+lawn from the window of the dining-room.
+
+"'The world's mine oyster, which I with sword will open,'" muttered
+Ferrers; "I would mould this selfish old man to my purpose; for, since
+I have neither genius to write nor eloquence to declaim, I will at
+least see whether I have not cunning to plot and courage to act.
+Conduct--conduct--conduct--there lies my talent; and what is conduct but
+a steady walk from a design to its execution?"
+
+With these thoughts Ferrers sought Mrs. Templeton. He opened the
+folding-doors very gently, for all his habitual movements were quick and
+noiseless, and perceived that Mrs. Templeton sat by the window, and that
+she seemed engrossed with a book which lay open on a little work-table
+before her.
+
+"Fordyce's _Advice to Young Married Women_, I suppose. Sly jade!
+However, I must not have her against me."
+
+He approached; still Mrs. Templeton did not note him; nor was it till
+he stood facing her that he himself observed that her tears were falling
+fast over the page.
+
+He was a little embarrassed, and, turning towards the window, affected
+to cough, and then said, without looking at Mrs. Templeton, "I fear I
+have disturbed you."
+
+"No," answered the same low, stifled voice that had before replied to
+Lumley's vain attempts to provoke conversation; "it was a melancholy
+employment, and perhaps it is not right to indulge in it."
+
+"May I inquire what author so affected you."
+
+"It is but a volume of poems, and I am no judge of poetry; but it
+contains thoughts which--which--" Mrs. Templeton paused abruptly, and
+Lumley quietly took up the book.
+
+"Ah!" said he, turning to the title-page--"my friend ought to be much
+flattered."
+
+"Your friend?"
+
+"Yes: this, I see, is by Ernest Maltravers, a very intimate ally of
+mine."
+
+"I should like to see him," cried Mrs. Templeton, almost with animation.
+"I read but little; it was by chance that I met with one of his books,
+and they are as if I heard a dear friend speaking to me. Ah! I should
+like to see him!"
+
+"I'm sure, madam," said the voice of a third person, in an austere and
+rebuking accent, "I do not see what good it would do your immortal soul
+to see a man who writes idle verses, which appear to me, indeed, highly
+immoral. I just looked into that volume this morning and found nothing
+but trash--love-sonnets, and such stuff."
+
+Mrs. Templeton made no reply, and Lumley, in order to change the
+conversation, which seemed a little too matrimonial for his taste, said,
+rather awkwardly, "You are returned very soon, sir."
+
+"Yes, I don't like walking in the rain!"
+
+"Bless me, it rains, so, it does--I had not observed--"
+
+"Are you wet, sir? had you not better--" began the wife timidly.
+
+"No, ma'am, I'm not wet, I thank you. By the by, nephew, this new author
+is a friend of yours. I wonder a man of his family should condescend
+to turn author. He can come to no good. I hope you will drop his
+acquaintance--authors are very unprofitable associates, I'm sure. I
+trust I shall see no more of Mr. Maltravers's books in my house."
+
+"Nevertheless, he is well thought of, sir, and makes no mean figure in
+the world," said Lumley, stoutly; for he was by no means disposed to
+give up a friend who might be as useful to him as Mr. Templeton himself.
+
+"Figure or no figure--I have not had many dealings with authors in my
+day; and when I had I always repented it. Not sound, sir, not sound--all
+cracked somewhere. Mrs. Templeton, have the kindness to get the
+Prayer-book--my hassock must be fresh stuffed, it gives me quite a
+pain in my knee. Lumley, will you ring the bell? Your aunt is very
+melancholy. True religion is not gloomy; we will read a sermon on
+Cheerfulness."
+
+"So, so," said Mr. Ferrers to himself, as he undressed that night--"I
+see that my uncle is a little displeased with my aunt's pensive face--a
+little jealous of her thinking of anything but himself: _tant mieux_.
+I must work upon this discovery; it will not do for them to live too
+happily with each other. And what with that lever, and what with his
+ambitious projects, I think I see a way to push the good things of this
+world a few inches nearer to Lumley Ferrers."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ "The pride too of her step, as light
+  Along the unconscious earth she went,
+  Seemed that of one born with a right
+  To walk some heavenlier element."
+        _Loves of the Angels._
+
+     "Can it be
+  That these fine impulses, these lofty thoughts
+  Burning with their own beauty, are but given
+  To make me the low slave of vanity?"--_Erinna._
+
+     "Is she not too fair
+  Even to think of maiden's sweetest care?
+  The mouth and brow are contrasts."--_Ibid._
+
+IT was two or three evenings after the date of the last chapter, and
+there was what the newspapers call "a select party" in one of the
+noblest mansions in London. A young lady, on whom all eyes were bent,
+and whose beauty might have served the painter for a model of Semiramis
+or Zenobia, more majestic than became her years, and so classically
+faultless as to have something cold and statue-like in its haughty
+lineaments, was moving through the crowd that murmured applauses as she
+passed. This lady was Florence Lascelles, the daughter of Lumley's great
+relation, the Earl of Saxingham, and supposed to be the richest heiress
+in England. Lord Saxingham himself drew aside his daughter as she swept
+along.
+
+"Florence," said he in a whisper, "the Duke of ------ is greatly struck
+with you--be civil to him--I am about to present him."
+
+So saying, the earl turned to a small, dark, stiff-looking man, of about
+twenty-eight years of age, at his left, and introduced the Duke of-----
+ introduction between the greatest match and the wealthiest heiress in
+the peerage.
+
+"Lady Florence," said Lord Saxingham, "is as fond of horses as yourself,
+duke, though not quite so good a judge."
+
+"I confess I _do_ like horses," said the duke, with an ingenuous air.
+
+Lord Saxingham moved away.
+
+Lady Florence stood mute--one glance of bright contempt shot from her
+large eyes; her lip slightly curled, and she then half turned aside, and
+seemed to forget that her new acquaintance was in existence.
+
+His grace, like most great personages, was not apt to take offence; nor
+could he, indeed, ever suppose that any slight towards the Duke of ------
+could be intended; still he thought it would be proper in Lady
+Florence to begin the conversation; for he himself, though not shy, was
+habitually silent, and accustomed to be saved the fatigue of defraying
+the small charges of society. After a pause, seeing, however, that Lady
+Florence remained speechless, he began:
+
+"You ride sometimes in the Park, Lady Florence?"
+
+"Very seldom."
+
+"It is, indeed, too warm for riding at present."
+
+"I did not say so."
+
+"Hem--I thought you did."
+
+Another pause.
+
+"Did you speak, Lady Florence?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Oh, I beg pardon--Lord Saxingham is looking very well."
+
+"I am glad you think so."
+
+"Your picture in the exhibition scarcely does you justice, Lady
+Florence; yet Lawrence is usually happy."
+
+"You are very flattering," said Lady Florence, with a lively and
+perceptible impatience in her tone and manner. The young beauty was
+thoroughly spoilt--and now all the scorn of a scornful nature was drawn
+forth, by observing the envious eyes of the crowd were bent upon one
+whom the Duke of ------ was actually talking to. Brilliant as were her
+own powers of conversation, she would not deign to exert them--she was
+an aristocrat of intellect rather than birth, and she took it into her
+head that the duke was an idiot. She was very much mistaken. If she had
+but broken up the ice, she would have found that the water below was not
+shallow. The duke, in fact, like many other Englishmen, though he did
+not like the trouble of showing forth, and had an ungainly manner, was
+a man who had read a good deal, possessed a sound head and an honourable
+mind, though he did not know what it was to love anybody, to care
+much for anything, and was at once perfectly sated and yet perfectly
+contented; for apathy is the combination of satiety and content.
+
+Still Florence judged of him as lively persons are apt to judge of the
+sedate; besides, she wanted to proclaim to him and to everybody else,
+how little she cared for dukes and great matches; she, therefore, with a
+slight inclination of her head, turned away, and extended her hand to
+a dark young man, who was gazing on her with that respectful but
+unmistakable admiration which proud women are never proud enough to
+despise.
+
+"Ah, signor," said she, in Italian, "I am so glad to see you; it is a
+relief, indeed, to find genius in a crowd of nothings."
+
+So saying, the heiress seated herself on one of those convenient couches
+which hold but two, and beckoned the Italian to her side. Oh, how the
+vain heart of Castruccio Cesarini beat!--what visions of love, rank,
+wealth, already flitted before him!
+
+"I almost fancy," said Castruccio, "that the old days of romance are
+returned, when a queen could turn from princes and warriors to listen to
+a troubadour."
+
+"Troubadours are now more rare than warriors and princes," replied
+Florence, with gay animation, which contrasted strongly with the
+coldness she had manifested to the Duke of ------, "and therefore it
+would not now be a very great merit in a queen to fly from dulness and
+insipidity to poetry and wit."
+
+"Ah, say not wit," said Cesarini; "wit is incompatible with the
+grave character of deep feelings;--incompatible with enthusiasm, with
+worship;--incompatible with the thoughts that wait upon Lady Florence
+Lascelles."
+
+Florence coloured and slightly frowned; but the immense distinction
+between her position and that of the young foreigner, with her own
+inexperience, both of real life and the presumption of vain hearts,
+made her presently forget the flattery that would have offended her in
+another. She turned the conversation, however, into general channels,
+and she talked of Italian poetry with a warmth and eloquence worthy of
+the theme. While they thus conversed, a new guest had arrived, who, from
+the spot where he stood, engaged with Lord Saxingham, fixed a steady and
+scrutinising gaze upon the pair.
+
+"Lady Florence has indeed improved," said this new guest. "I could not
+have conceived that England boasted any one half so beautiful."
+
+"She certainly is handsome, my dear Lumley,--the Lascelles cast of
+countenance," replied Lord Saxingham, "and so gifted! She is positively
+learned--quite a _bas bleu_. I tremble to think of the crowd of poets
+and painters who will make a fortune out of her enthusiasm. _Entre
+nous_, Lumley, I could wish her married to a man of sober sense, like
+the Duke of ------; for sober sense is exactly what she wants. Do
+observe, she has been sitting just half an hour flirting with that
+odd-looking adventurer, a Signor Cesarini, merely because he writes
+sonnets and wears a dress like a stage-player!"
+
+"It is the weakness of the sex, my dear lord," said Lumley; "they like
+to patronise, and they dote upon all oddities, from China monsters to
+cracked poets. But I fancy, by a restless glance cast every now and then
+around the room, that my beautiful cousin has in her something of the
+coquette."
+
+"There you are quite right, Lumley," returned Lord Saxingham, laughing;
+"but I will not quarrel with her for breaking hearts and refusing
+hands, if she do but grow steady at last, and settle into the Duchess
+of------."
+
+"Duchess of ------!" repeated Lumley, absently; "well, I will go and
+present myself. I see she is growing tired of the signor. I will sound
+her as to the ducal impressions, my dear lord."
+
+"Do--I dare not," replied the father; "she is an excellent girl, but
+heiresses are always contradictory. It was very foolish to deprive me
+of all control over her fortune. Come and see me again soon, Lumley. I
+suppose you are going abroad?"
+
+"No, I shall settle in England; but of my prospects and plans more
+hereafter."
+
+With this, Lumley quietly glided away to Florence. There was something
+in Ferrers that was remarkable from its very simplicity. His clear,
+sharp features, with the short hair and high brow--the absolute
+plainness of his dress, and the noiseless, easy, self-collected calm of
+all his motions, made a strong contrast to the showy Italian, by whose
+side he now stood. Florence looked up at him with some little surprise
+at his intrusion.
+
+"Ah, you don't recollect me!" said Lumley, with his pleasant laugh.
+"Faithless Imogen, after all your vows of constancy! Behold your Alonzo!
+
+   'The worms they crept in and the worms they crept out.'
+
+"Don't you remember how you trembled when I told you that true story, as
+we
+
+   'Conversed as we sat on the green"?
+
+"Oh!" cried Florence, "it is indeed you, my dear cousin--my dear Lumley!
+What an age since we parted!"
+
+"Don't talk of age--it is an ugly word to a man of my years. Pardon,
+signor, if I disturb you."
+
+And here Lumley, with a low bow, slid coolly into the place which
+Cesarini, who had shyly risen, left vacant for him. Castruccio looked
+disconcerted; but Florence had forgotten him in her delight at seeing
+Lumley, and Cesarini moved discontentedly away, and seated himself at a
+distance.
+
+"And I come back," continued Lumley, "to find you a confirmed beauty and
+a professional coquette--don't blush!"
+
+"Do they, indeed, call me a coquette?"
+
+"Oh, yes,--for once the world is just."
+
+"Perhaps I do deserve the reproach. Oh, Lumley, how I despise all that I
+see and hear!"
+
+"What, even the Duke of ------?"
+
+"Yes, I fear even the Duke of ------ is no exception!"
+
+"Your father will go mad if he hear you."
+
+"My father!--my poor father!--yes, he thinks the utmost that I, Florence
+Lascelles, am made for, is to wear a ducal coronet, and give the best
+balls in London."
+
+"And pray what was Florence Lascelles made for?"
+
+"Ah! I cannot answer the question. I fear for Discontent and Disdain."
+
+"You are an enigma--but I will take pains and not rest till I solve
+you."
+
+"I defy you."
+
+"Thanks--better defy than despise.
+
+"Oh, you must be strangely altered, if I can despise you."
+
+"Indeed! what do you remember of me?"
+
+"That you were frank, bold, and therefore, I suppose, true!--that
+you shocked my aunts and my father by your contempt for the vulgar
+hypocrisies of our conventional life. Oh, no! I cannot despise you."
+
+Lumley raised his eyes to those of Florence--he gazed on her long and
+earnestly--ambitious hopes rose high within him.
+
+"My fair cousin," said he, in an altered and serious tone, "I see
+something in your spirit kindred to mine; and I am glad that yours is
+one of the earliest voices which confirm my new resolves on my return to
+busy England!"
+
+"And those resolves?"
+
+"Are an Englishman's--energetic and ambitious."
+
+"Alas, ambition! How many false portraits are there of the great
+original!"
+
+Lumley thought he had found a clue to the heart of his cousin, and he
+began to expatiate, with unusual eloquence, on the nobleness of that
+daring sin which "lost angels heaven." Florence listened to him with
+attention, but not with sympathy. Lumley was deceived. His was not an
+ambition that could attract the fastidious but high-souled Idealist.
+The selfishness of his nature broke out in all the sentiments that he
+fancied would seem to her most elevated. Place--power--titles--all these
+objects were low and vulgar to one who saw them daily at her feet.
+
+At a distance the Duke of ------ continued from time to time to direct
+his cold gaze at Florence. He did not like her the less for not seeming
+to court him. He had something generous within him, and could understand
+her. He went away at last, and thought seriously of Florence as a wife.
+Not a wife for companionship, for friendship, for love; but a wife who
+could take the trouble of rank off his hands--do him honour, and raise
+him an heir, whom he might flatter himself would be his own.
+
+From his corner also, with dreams yet more vain and daring, Castruccio
+Cesarini cast his eyes upon the queen-like brow of the great heiress.
+Oh, yes, she had a soul--she could disdain rank and revere genius!
+What a triumph over De Montaigne--Maltravers--all the world, if he, the
+neglected poet, could win the hand for which the magnates of the earth
+sighed in vain! Pure and lofty as he thought himself, it was her birth
+and her wealth which Cesarini adored in Florence. And Lumley, nearer
+perhaps to the prize than either--yet still far off--went on conversing,
+with eloquent lips and sparkling eyes, while his cold heart was planning
+every word, dictating every glance, and laying out (for the most worldly
+are often the most visionary) the chart for a royal road to fortune.
+And Florence Lascelles, when the crowd had dispersed and she sought her
+chamber, forgot all three; and with that morbid romance often peculiar
+to those for whom Fate smiles the most, mused over the ideal image of
+the one she _could_ love--"in maiden meditation _not_ fancy-free!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+ "In mea vesanas habui dispendia vires,
+  Et valui poenas fortis in ipse meas."*--OVID.
+
+* I had the strength of a madman to my own cost, and employed that
+strength in my own punishment.
+
+ "Then might my breast be read within,
+  A thousand volumes would be written there."
+        EARL OF STIRLING.
+
+ERNEST MALTRAVERS was at the height of his reputation; the work which
+he had deemed the crisis that was to make or mar him was the most
+brilliantly successful of all he had yet committed to the public.
+Certainly, chance did as much for it as merit, as is usually the case
+with works that become instantaneously popular. We may hammer away at
+the casket with strong arm and good purpose, and all in vain; when some
+morning a careless stroke hits the right nail on the head, and we secure
+the treasure.
+
+It was at this time, when in the prime of youth--rich, courted,
+respected, run after--that Ernest Maltravers fell seriously ill. It was
+no active or visible disease, but a general irritability of the nerves,
+and a languid sinking of the whole frame. His labours began, perhaps, to
+tell against him. In earlier life he had been as active as a hunter
+of the chamois, and the hardy exercise of his frame counteracted the
+effects of a restless and ardent mind. The change from an athletic to a
+sedentary habit of life--the wear and tear of the brain--the absorbing
+passion for knowledge which day and night kept all his faculties in a
+stretch; made strange havoc in a constitution naturally strong. The poor
+author! how few persons understand; and forbear with, and pity him!
+He sells his health and youth to a rugged taskmaster. And, O blind and
+selfish world, you expect him to be as free of manner, and as pleasant
+of cheer, and as equal of mood, as if he were passing the most agreeable
+and healthful existence that pleasure could afford to smooth the
+wrinkles of the mind, or medicine invent to regulate the nerves of
+the body. But there was, besides all this, another cause that operated
+against the successful man!--His heart was too solitary. He lived
+without the sweet household ties--the connections and amities he formed
+excited for a moment, but possessed no charm to comfort or to soothe.
+Cleveland resided so much in the country, and was of so much calmer
+a temperament, and so much more advanced in age, that, with all the
+friendship that subsisted between them, there was none of that daily and
+familiar interchange of confidence which affectionate natures demand
+as the very food of life. Of his brother (as the reader will conjecture
+from never having been formally presented to him) Ernest saw but little.
+Colonel Maltravers, one of the gayest and handsomest men of his time,
+married a fine lady, lived principally at Paris, except when, for a
+few weeks in the shooting season, he filled his country house with
+companions who had nothing in common with Ernest: the brothers
+corresponded regularly every quarter, and saw each other once a
+year--this was all their intercourse. Ernest Maltravers stood in the
+world alone, with that cold but anxious spectre--Reputation.
+
+It was late at night. Before a table covered with the monuments of
+erudition and thought sat a young man with a pale and worn countenance.
+The clock in the room told with a fretting distinctness every moment
+that lessened the journey to the grave. There was an anxious and
+expectant expression on the face of the student, and from time to time
+he glanced to the clock, and muttered to himself. Was it a letter from
+some adored mistress--the soothing flattery from some mighty arbiter of
+arts and letters--that the young man eagerly awaited? No; the aspirer
+was forgotten in the valetudinarian. Ernest Maltravers was waiting the
+visit of his physician, whom at that late hour a sudden thought had
+induced him to summon from his rest. At length the well-known knock
+was heard, and in a few moments the physician entered. He was one well
+versed in the peculiar pathology of book men, and kindly as well as
+skilful.
+
+"My dear Mr. Maltravers, what is this? How are we?--not seriously ill, I
+hope--no relapse--pulse low and irregular, I see, but no fever. You are
+nervous."
+
+"Doctor," said the student, "I did not send for you at this time of
+night from the idle fear or fretful caprice of an invalid. But when I
+saw you this morning, you dropped some hints which have haunted me ever
+since. Much that it befits the conscience and the soul to attend to
+without loss of time depends upon my full knowledge of my real state.
+If I understand you rightly, I may have but a short time to live--is it
+so?"
+
+"Indeed!" said the doctor, turning away his face; "you have exaggerated
+my meaning. I did not say that you were in what we technically call
+danger."
+
+"Am I then likely to be a _long_-lived man?"
+
+The doctor coughed--"That is uncertain, my dear young friend," said he,
+after a pause.
+
+"Be plain with me. The plans of life must be based upon such
+calculations as we can reasonably form of its probable duration. Do not
+fancy that I am weak enough or coward enough to shrink from any abyss
+which I have approached unconsciously; I desire--I adjure--nay, I
+command you to be explicit."
+
+There was an earnest and solemn dignity in his patient's voice and
+manner which deeply touched and impressed the good physician.
+
+"I will answer you frankly," said he; "you overwork the nerves and
+the brain; if you do not relax, you will subject yourself to confirmed
+disease and premature death. For several months--perhaps for years
+to come--you should wholly cease from literary labour. Is this a hard
+sentence? You are rich and young--enjoy yourself while you can."
+
+Maltravers appeared satisfied--changed the conversation--talked easily
+on other matters for a few minutes: nor was it till he had dismissed
+his physician that he broke forth with the thoughts that were burning in
+him.
+
+"Oh!" cried he aloud, as he rose and paced the room with rapid strides;
+"now, when I see before me the broad and luminous path, am I to be
+condemned to halt and turn aside? A vast empire rises on my view,
+greater than that of Caesars and conquerors--an empire durable and
+universal in the souls of men, that time itself cannot overthrow; and
+Death marches with me, side by side, and the skeleton hand waves me back
+to the nothingness of common men."
+
+He paused at the casement--he threw it open, and leant forth and gasped
+for air. Heaven was serene and still, as morning came coldly forth
+amongst the waning stars; and the haunts of men, in their thoroughfare
+of idleness and of pleasure, were desolate and void. Nothing, save
+Nature, was awake.
+
+"And if, O stars!" murmured Maltravers, from the depth of his excited
+heart--"if I have been insensible to your solemn beauty--if the Heaven
+and the Earth had been to me but as air and clay--if I were one of a
+dull and dim-eyed herd--I might live on, and drop into the grave from
+the ripeness of unprofitable years. It is because I yearn for the great
+objects of an immortal being, that life shrinks and shrivels up like a
+scroll. Away! I will not listen to these human and material monitors,
+and consider life as a thing greater than the things that I would live
+for. My choice is made, glory is more persuasive than the grave."
+
+He turned impatiently from the casement--his eyes flashed--his chest
+heaved--he trod the chamber with a monarch's air. All the calculations
+of prudence, all the tame and methodical reasonings with which, from
+time to time, he had sought to sober down the impetuous man into the
+calm machine, faded away before the burst of awful and commanding
+passions that swept over his soul. Tell a man, in the full tide of his
+triumphs, that he bears death within him; and what crisis of thought can
+be more startling and more terrible!
+
+Maltravers had, as we have seen, cared little for fame, till fame had
+been brought within his reach: then, with every step he took, new
+Alps had arisen. Each new conjecture brought to light a new truth that
+demanded enforcement or defence. Rivalry and competition chafed his
+blood, and kept his faculties at their full speed. He had the generous
+race-horse spirit of emulation. Ever in action, ever in progress,
+cheered on by the sarcasms of foes, even more than by the applause of
+friends, the desire of glory had become the habit of existence. When we
+have commenced a career, what stop is there till the grave?--where is
+the definite barrier of that ambition which, like the eastern bird,
+seems ever on the wing, and never rests upon the earth? Our names are
+not settled till our death: the ghosts of what we have done are made our
+haunting monitors--our scourging avengers--if ever we cease to do,
+or fall short of the younger past. Repose is oblivion; to pause is to
+unravel all the web that we have woven--until the tomb closes over
+us, and men, just when it is too late, strike the fair balance between
+ourselves and our rivals; and we are measured, not by the least, but
+by the greatest triumphs we have achieved. Oh, what a crushing sense of
+impotence comes over us, when we feel that our frame cannot support our
+mind--when the hand can no longer execute what the soul, actively as
+ever, conceives and desires!--the quick life tied to the dead form--the
+ideas fresh as immortality, gushing forth rich and golden, and the
+broken nerves, and the aching frame, and the weary eyes!--the spirit
+athirst for liberty and heaven--and the damning, choking consciousness
+that we are walled up and prisoned in a dungeon that must be our
+burial-place! Talk not of freedom--there is no such thing as freedom to
+a man whose body is the gaol, whose infirmities are the racks, of his
+genius!
+
+Maltravers paused at last, and threw himself on his sofa, wearied and
+exhausted. Involuntarily, and as a half unconscious means of escaping
+from his conflicting and profitless emotions, he turned to several
+letters, which had for hours lain unopened on his table. Every one, the
+seal of which he broke, seemed to mock his state--every one seemed to
+attest the felicity of his fortunes. Some bespoke the admiring sympathy
+of the highest and wisest--one offered him a brilliant opening into
+public life--another (it was from Cleveland) was fraught with all the
+proud and rapturous approbation of a prophet whose auguries are at last
+fulfilled. At that letter Maltravers sighed deeply, and paused before he
+turned to the others. The last he opened was in an unknown hand, nor was
+any name affixed to it. Like all writers of some note, Maltravers was
+in the habit of receiving anonymous letters of praise, censure, warning,
+and exhortation--especially from young ladies at boarding schools, and
+old ladies in the country; but there was that in the first sentences of
+the letter, which he now opened with a careless hand, that riveted his
+attention. It was a small and beautiful handwriting, yet the letters
+were more clear and bold than they usually are in feminine caligraphy.
+
+"Ernest Maltravers," began this singular effusion, "have you weighed
+yourself? Are you aware of your capacities? Do you feel that for you
+there may be a more dazzling reputation that that which appears to
+content you? You who seem to penetrate into the subtlest windings of the
+human heart, and to have examined nature as through a glass--you, whose
+thoughts stand forth like armies marshalled in defence of truth, bold
+and dauntless, and without a stain upon their glittering armour;--are
+you, at your age, and with your advantages, to bury yourself amidst
+books and scrolls? Do you forget that action is the grand career for men
+who think as you do? Will this word-weighing and picture-writing--the
+cold eulogies of pedants--the listless praises of literary idlers,
+content all the yearnings of your ambition? You were not made solely for
+the closet; 'The Dreams of Pindus, and the Aonian Maids' cannot endure
+through the noon of manhood. You are too practical for the mere poet,
+and too poetical to sink into the dull tenor of a learned life. I have
+never seen you, yet I know you--I read your spirit in your page; that
+aspiration for something better and greater than the great and the
+good, which colours all your passionate revelations of yourself and
+others--cannot be satisfied merely by ideal images. You cannot be
+contented, as poets and historians mostly are, by becoming great only
+from delineating great men, or imagining great events, or describing
+a great era. Is it not worthier of you to be what you fancy or relate?
+Awake, Maltravers, awake! Look into your heart, and feel your proper
+destinies. And who am I that thus address you?--a woman whose soul is
+filled with you--a woman in whom your eloquence has awakened, amidst
+frivolous and vain circles, the sense of a new existence--a woman who
+would make you, yourself, the embodied ideal of your own thoughts and
+dreams, and who would ask from earth no other lot than that of following
+you on the road of fame with the eyes of her heart. Mistake me not; I
+repeat that I have never seen you, nor do I wish it; you might be
+other than I imagine, and I should lose an idol, and be left without
+a worship. I am a kind of visionary Rosicrucian: it is a spirit that I
+adore, and not a being like myself. You imagine, perhaps, that I have
+some purpose to serve in this--I have no object in administering to your
+vanity; and if I judge you rightly, this letter is one that might make
+you vain without a blush. Oh, the admiration that does not spring from
+holy and profound sources of emotion--how it saddens us or disgusts!
+I have had my share of vulgar homage, and it only makes me feel doubly
+alone. I am richer than you are--I have youth--I have what they call
+beauty. And neither riches, youth, nor beauty ever gave me the silent
+and deep happiness I experience when I think of you. This is a worship
+that might, I repeat, well make even you vain. Think of these words, I
+implore you. Be worthy, not of my thoughts, but of the shape in which
+they represent you: and every ray of glory that surrounds you
+will brighten my own way, and inspire me with a kindred emulation.
+Farewell.--I may write to you again, but you will never discover me; and
+in life I pray that we may never meet!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+ "Our list of nobles next let Amri grace."
+        _Absalom and Achitophel_.
+
+ "Sine me vacivum tempus ne quod dem mihi Laboris."*--TER.
+
+* Suffer me to employ my spare time in some kind of labour.
+
+"I CAN'T think," said one of a group of young men, loitering by the
+steps of a clubhouse in St. James's Street--"I can't think what has
+chanced to Maltravers. Do you observe (as he walks--there--the other
+side of the way) how much he is altered? He stoops like an old man, and
+hardly ever lifts his eyes from the ground. He certainly seems sick and
+sad."
+
+"Writing books, I suppose."
+
+"Or privately married."
+
+"Or growing too rich--rich men are always unhappy beings."
+
+"Ha, Ferrers, how are you?"
+
+"So-so. What's the news?" replied Lumley.
+
+"Rattler pays forfeit."
+
+"O! but in politics?"
+
+"Hang politics--are you turned politician?"
+
+"At my age, what else is there left to do?"
+
+"I thought so, by your hat; all politicians sport odd-looking hats: it
+is very remarkable, but that is the great symptom of the disease."
+
+"My hat!--_is_ it odd?" said Ferrers, taking off the commodity in
+question, and seriously regarding it.
+
+"Why, who ever saw such a brim?"
+
+"Glad you think so."
+
+"Why, Ferrers?"
+
+"Because it is a prudent policy in this country to surrender something
+trifling up to ridicule. If people can abuse your hat or your carriage,
+or the shape of your nose, or a wart on your chin, they let slip a
+thousand more important matters. 'Tis the wisdom of the camel-driver,
+who gives up his gown for the camel to trample on, that he may escape
+himself."
+
+"How droll you are, Ferrers! Well, I shall turn in, and read the papers;
+and you--"
+
+"Shall pay my visits and rejoice in my hat."
+
+"Good day to you; by the by, your friend, Maltravers, has just passed,
+looking thoughtful, and talking to himself. What's the matter with him?"
+
+"Lamenting, perhaps, that he, too, does not wear an odd hat for
+gentlemen like you to laugh at, and leave the rest of him in peace. Good
+day."
+
+On went Ferrers, and soon found himself in the Mall of the Park. Here he
+was joined by Mr. Templeton.
+
+"Well, Lumley," said the latter (and it may be here remarked that Mr.
+Templeton now exhibited towards his nephew a greater respect of manner
+and tone than he had thought it necessary to observe before)--"well,
+Lumley, and have you seen Lord Saxingham?"
+
+"I have, sir; and I regret to say--"
+
+"I thought so--I thought it," interrupted Templeton: "no gratitude in
+public men--no wish, in high place, to honour virtue!"
+
+"Pardon me; Lord Saxingham declares that he should be delighted to
+forward your views--that no man more deserves a peerage; but that--"
+
+"Oh, yes; always _buts_!"
+
+"But that there are so many claimants at present whom it is impossible
+to satisfy; and--and--but I feel I ought not to go on."
+
+"Proceed, sir, I beg."
+
+"Why, then, Lord Saxingham is (I must be frank) a man who has a great
+regard for his own family. Your marriage (a source, my dear uncle, of
+the greatest gratification to _me_) cuts off the probable chance of your
+fortune and title, if you acquire the latter, descending to--"
+
+"Yourself!" put in Templeton, drily. "Your relation seems, for the first
+time, to have discovered how dear your interests are to him."
+
+"For me, individually, sir, my relation does not care a rush--but he
+cares a great deal for any member of his house being rich and in high
+station. It increases the range and credit of his connections; and Lord
+Saxingham is a man whom connections help to keep great. To be plain with
+you, he will not stir in this business, because he does not see how his
+kinsman is to be benefited, or his house strengthened."
+
+"Public virtue!" exclaimed Templeton.
+
+"Virtue, my dear uncle, is a female: as long as she is private property,
+she is excellent; but public virtue, like any other public lady, is a
+common prostitute."
+
+"Pshaw!" grunted Templeton, who was too much out of humour to read his
+nephew the lecture he might otherwise have done upon the impropriety of
+his simile; for Mr. Templeton was one of those men who hold it vicious
+to talk of vice as existing in the world; he was very much shocked to
+hear anything called by its proper name.
+
+"Has not Mrs. Templeton some connections that may be useful to you?"
+
+"No, sir!" cried the uncle, in a voice of thunder.
+
+"Sorry to hear it--but we cannot expect all things: you have married
+for love--you have a happy home, a charming wife--this is better than a
+title and a fine lady."
+
+"Mr. Lumley Ferrers, you may spare me your consolations. My wife--"
+
+"Loves you dearly, I dare say," said the imperturbable nephew. "She has
+so much sentiment, is so fond of poetry. Oh, yes, she must love one who
+has done so much for her."
+
+"Done so much; what do you mean?"
+
+"Why, with your fortune--your station--your just ambition--you,
+who might have married any one; nay, by remaining unmarried, have
+conciliated all my interested, selfish relations--hang them--you have
+married a lady without connections--and what more could you do for her?"
+
+"Pooh, pooh; you don't know all."
+
+Here Templeton stopped short, as if about to say too much, and frowned;
+then, after a pause, he resumed, "Lumley, I have married, it is true.
+You may not be my heir, but I will make it up to you--that is, if you
+deserve my affection."
+
+"My dear unc--"
+
+"Don't interrupt me, I have projects for you. Let our interests be
+the same. The title may yet descend to you. I may have no male
+offspring--meanwhile, draw on me to any reasonable amount--young men
+have expenses--but be prudent, and if you want to get on in the world,
+never let the world detect you in a scrape. There, leave me now."
+
+"My best, my heartfelt thanks!"
+
+"Hush--sound Lord Saxingham again; I must and will have this bauble--I
+have set my heart on it." So saying, Templeton waved away his nephew,
+and musingly pursued his path towards Hyde Park Corner, where his
+carriage awaited him. As soon as he entered his demesnes, he saw
+his wife's daughter running across the lawn to greet him. His heart
+softened; he checked the carriage and descended: he caressed her, he
+played with her, he laughed as she laughed. No parent could be more
+fond.
+
+"Lumley Ferrers has talent to do me honour," said he, anxiously, "but
+his principles seem unstable. However, surely that open manner is the
+sign of a good heart."
+
+Meanwhile, Ferrers, in high spirits, took his way to Ernest's house. His
+friend was not at home, but Ferrers never wanted a host's presence in
+order to be at home himself. Books were round him in abundance, but
+Ferrers was not one of those who read for amusement. He threw himself
+into an easy-chair, and began weaving new meshes of ambition and
+intrigue. At length the door opened, and Maltravers entered.
+
+"Why, Ernest, how ill you are looking!"
+
+"I have not been well, but I am now recovering. As physicians recommend
+change of air to ordinary patients--so I am about to try change of
+habit. Active I must be--action is the condition of my being; but I must
+have done with books from the present. You see me in a new character."
+
+"How?"
+
+"That of a public man--I have entered parliament."
+
+"You astonish me!--I have read the papers this morning. I see not even a
+vacancy, much less an election."
+
+"It is all managed by the lawyer and the banker. In other words, my seat
+is a close borough."
+
+"No bore of constituents. I congratulate you, and envy. I wish I were in
+parliament myself."
+
+"You! I never fancied you bitten by the political mania."
+
+"Political!--no. But it is the most respectable way, with luck, of
+living on the public. Better than swindling."
+
+"A candid way of viewing the question. But I thought at one time you
+were half a Benthamite, and that your motto was, 'The greatest happiness
+of the greatest number.'"
+
+"The greatest number to me is number _one_. I agree with the
+Pythagoreans--unity is the perfect principle of creation! Seriously, how
+can you mistake the principles of opinion for the principles of conduct?
+I am a Benthamite, a benevolist, as a logician--but the moment I leave
+the closet for the world, I lay aside speculation for others, and act
+for myself."
+
+"You are, at least, more frank than prudent in these confessions."
+
+"There you are wrong. It is by affecting to be worse than we are that
+we become popular--and we get credit for being both honest and practical
+fellows. My uncle's mistake is to be a hypocrite in words: it rarely
+answers. Be frank in words, and nobody will suspect hypocrisy in your
+designs."
+
+Maltravers gazed hard at Ferrers--something revolted and displeased
+his high-wrought Platonism in the easy wisdom of his old friend. But he
+felt, almost for the first time, that Ferrers was a man to get on in the
+world--and he sighed; I hope it was for the world's sake.
+
+After a short conversation on indifferent matters, Cleveland was
+announced; and Ferrers, who could make nothing out of Cleveland, soon
+withdrew. Ferrers was now becoming an economist in his time.
+
+"My dear Maltravers," said Cleveland, when they were alone, "I am so
+glad to see you; for, in the first place, I rejoice to find you are
+extending your career of usefulness."
+
+"Usefulness--ah, let me think so! Life is so uncertain and so short,
+that we cannot too soon bring the little it can yield into the great
+commonwealth of the Beautiful or the Honest; and both belong to and make
+up the Useful. But in politics, and in a highly artificial state, what
+doubts beset us! what darkness surrounds! If we connive at abuses, we
+juggle with our own reason and integrity--if we attack them, how much,
+how fatally we may derange that solemn and conventional ORDER which is
+the mainspring of the vast machine! How little, too, can one man, whose
+talents may not be in that coarse road--in that mephitic atmosphere, be
+enabled to effect!"
+
+"He may effect a vast deal even without eloquence or labour:--he may
+effect a vast deal, if he can set one example, amidst a crowd of selfish
+aspirants and heated fanatics, of an honest and dispassionate man.
+He may effect more, if he may serve among the representatives of that
+hitherto unrepresented thing--Literature; if he redeem, by an ambition
+above place and emolument, the character for subservience that
+court-poets have obtained for letters--if he may prove that speculative
+knowledge is not disjoined from the practical world, and maintain the
+dignity of disinterestedness that should belong to learning. But the
+end of a scientific morality is not to serve others only, but also to
+perfect and accomplish our individual selves; our own souls are a solemn
+trust to our own lives. You are about to add to your experience of human
+motives and active men; and whatever additional wisdom you acquire
+will become equally evident and equally useful, no matter whether it be
+communicated through action or in books. Enough of this, my dear Ernest.
+I have come to dine with you, and make you accompany me to-night to
+a house where you will be welcome, and I think interested. Nay,
+no excuses. I have promised Lord Latimer that he shall make your
+acquaintance, and he is one of the most eminent men with whom political
+life will connect you."
+
+And to this change of habits, from the closet to the senate, had
+Maltravers been induced by a state of health, which, with most men,
+would have been an excuse for indolence. Indolent he could not be; he
+had truly said to Ferrers, that "action was the condition of his being."
+If THOUGHT, with its fever and aching tension, had been too severe a
+taskmaster on the nerves and brain, the coarse and homely pursuit of
+practical politics would leave the imagination and intellect in repose,
+while it would excite the hardier qualities and gifts, which animate
+without exhausting. So, at least, hoped Maltravers. He remembered the
+profound saying in one of his favourite German authors, "that to keep
+the mind and body in perfect health, it is necessary to mix habitually
+and betimes in the common affairs of men." And the anonymous
+correspondent;--had her exhortations any influence on his decision? I
+know not. But when Cleveland left him, Maltravers unlocked his desk, and
+re-perused the last letter he had received from the Unknown. The _last_
+letter!--yes, those epistles had now become frequent.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+ * * * * "Le brillant de votre esprit donne un si grand
+  eclat a votre teint et a vos yeux, que quoiqu'il semble
+  que l'esprit ne doit toucher que les oreilles, il est
+  pourtaut certain que la votre eblouit les yeux."*
+        _Lettres de Madame de Sevigne_.
+
+* The brilliancy of your wit gives so great a lustre to your complexion
+and your eyes, that, though it seems that wit should only reach the
+ears, it is altogether certain that yours dazzles the eyes.
+
+AT Lord Latimer's house were assembled some hundreds of those persons
+who are rarely found together in London society; for business, politics,
+and literature draught off the most eminent men, and usually leave
+to houses that receive the world little better than indolent rank or
+ostentatious wealth. Even the young men of pleasure turn up their noses
+at parties now-a-days, and find society a bore. But there are some dozen
+or two of houses, the owners of which are both apart from and above the
+fashion, in which a foreigner may see, collected under the same roof,
+many of the most remarkable men of busy, thoughtful, majestic England.
+Lord Latimer himself had been a cabinet minister. He retired from public
+life on pretence of ill-health; but, in reality, because its anxious
+bustle was not congenial to a gentle and accomplished, but somewhat
+feeble, mind. With a high reputation and an excellent cook he enjoyed a
+great popularity, both with his own party and the world in general; and
+he was the centre of a small, but distinguished circle of acquaintances,
+who drank Latimer's wine, and quoted Latimer's sayings, and liked
+Latimer much better, because, not being author or minister, he was not
+in their way.
+
+Lord Latimer received Maltravers with marked courtesy, and even
+deference, and invited him to join his own whist-table, which was one
+of the highest compliments his lordship could pay to his intellect. But
+when his guest refused the proffered honour, the earl turned him over
+to the countess, as having become the property of the womankind; and was
+soon immersed in his aspirations for the odd trick.
+
+Whilst Maltravers was conversing with Lady Latimer, he happened to
+raise his eyes, and saw opposite to him a young lady of such
+remarkable beauty, that he could scarcely refrain from an admiring
+exclamation.--"And who," he asked, recovering himself, "is that lady?
+It is strange that even I, who go so little into the world, should be
+compelled to inquire the name of one whose beauty must already have made
+her celebrated."
+
+"Oh, Lady Florence Lascelles--she came out last year. She is, indeed,
+most brilliant, yet more so in mind and accomplishments than face. I
+must be allowed to introduce you."
+
+At this offer, a strange shyness, and as it were reluctant distrust,
+seized Maltravers--a kind of presentiment of danger and evil. He drew
+back, and would have made some excuse, but Lady Latimer did not heed his
+embarrassment, and was already by the side of Lady Florence Lascelles. A
+moment more, and beckoning to Maltravers, the countess presented him to
+the lady. As he bowed and seated himself beside his new acquaintance, he
+could not but observe that her cheeks were suffused with the most lively
+blushes, and that she received him with a confusion not common even in
+ladies just brought out, and just introduced to "a lion." He was rather
+puzzled than flattered by these tokens of an embarrassment, somewhat
+akin to his own; and the first few sentences of their conversation
+passed off with a certain awkwardness and reserve. At this moment, to
+the surprise, perhaps to the relief, of Ernest, they were joined by
+Lumley Ferrers.
+
+"Ah, Lady Florence, I kiss your hands--I am charmed to find you
+acquainted with my friend Maltravers."
+
+"And Mr. Ferrers, what makes him so late to-night?" asked the fair
+Florence, with a sudden ease, which rather startled Maltravers.
+
+"A dull dinner, _voila tout_--I have no other excuse." And Ferrers,
+sliding into a vacant chair on the other side of Lady Florence,
+conversed volubly and unceasingly, as if seeking to monopolise her
+attention.
+
+Ernest had not been so much captivated with the manner of Florence as he
+had been struck with her beauty, and now, seeing her apparently engaged
+with another, he rose and quietly moved away. He was soon one of a knot
+of men who were conversing on the absorbing topics of the day; and as
+by degrees the exciting subject brought out his natural eloquence and
+masculine sense, the talkers became listeners, the knot widened into a
+circle, and he himself was unconsciously the object of general attention
+and respect.
+
+"And what think you of Mr. Maltravers?" asked Ferrers, carelessly; "does
+he keep up your expectations?"
+
+Lady Florence had sunk into a reverie, and Ferrers repeated his
+question.
+
+"He is younger than I imagined him,--and--and--"
+
+"Handsomer, I suppose, you mean."
+
+"No! calmer and less animated."
+
+"He seems animated enough now," said Ferrers; "but your ladylike
+conversation failed in striking the Promethean spark. 'Lay that
+flattering unction to your soul.'"
+
+"Ah, you are right--he must have thought me very--"
+
+"Beautiful, no doubt."
+
+"Beautiful!--I hate the word, Lumley. I wish I were not handsome--I
+might then get some credit for my intellect."
+
+"Humph!" said Ferrers, significantly.
+
+"Oh, you don't think so, sceptic," said Florence, shaking her head with
+a slight laugh, and an altered manner.
+
+"Does it matter what I think," said Ferrers, with an attempted touch at
+the sentimental, "when Lord This, and Lord That, and Mr. So-and-so, and
+Count What-d'ye-call-him, are all making their way to you, to dispossess
+me of my envied monopoly?"
+
+While Ferrers spoke, several of the scattered loungers grouped around
+Florence, and the conversation, of which she was the cynosure,
+became animated and gay. Oh, how brilliant she was, that peerless
+Florence!--with what petulant and sparkling grace came wit and wisdom,
+and even genius, from those ruby lips! Even the assured Ferrers felt his
+subtle intellect as dull and coarse to hers, and shrank with a reluctant
+apprehension from the arrows of her careless and prodigal repartees. For
+there was a scorn in the nature of Florence Lascelles which made her
+wit pain more frequently than it pleased. Educated even to
+learning--courageous even to a want of feminacy--she delighted to sport
+with ignorance and pretension, even in the highest places; and the laugh
+that she excited was like lightning;--no one could divine where next it
+might fall.
+
+But Florence, though dreaded and unloved, was yet courted, flattered,
+and the rage. For this there were two reasons: first, she was a
+coquette, and secondly, she was an heiress.
+
+Thus the talkers in the room were divided into two principal groups,
+over one of which Maltravers may be said to have presided; over the
+other, Florence. As the former broke up, Ernest was joined by Cleveland.
+
+"My dear cousin," said Florence, suddenly, and in a whisper, as she
+turned to Lumley, "your friend is speaking of me--I see it. Go, I
+implore you, and let me know what he says!"
+
+"The commission is not flattering," said Ferrers, almost sullenly.
+
+"Nay, a commission to gratify a woman's curiosity is ever one of the
+most flattering embassies with which we can invest an able negotiator."
+
+"Well, I must do your bidding, though I disown the favour." Ferrers
+moved away, and joined Cleveland and Maltravers.
+
+"She is, indeed, beautiful: so perfect a contour I never beheld: she
+is the only woman I ever saw in whom the aquiline features seem more
+classical than even the Greek."
+
+"So, that is your opinion of my fair cousin!" cried Ferrers, "you are
+caught."
+
+"I wish he were," said Cleveland. "Ernest is now old enough to settle,
+and there is not a more dazzling prize in England--rich, high-born,
+lovely, and accomplished."
+
+"And what say you?" asked Lumley, almost impatiently, to Maltravers.
+
+"That I never saw one whom I admire more or could love less," replied
+Ernest, as he quitted the rooms.
+
+Ferrers looked after him, and muttered to himself; he then rejoined
+Florence, who presently rose to depart, and taking Lumley's arm, said,
+"Well, I see my father is looking round for me--and so for once I will
+forestall him. Come, Lumley, let us join him; I know he wants to see
+you.
+
+"Well?" said Florence, blushing deeply, and almost breathless, as they
+crossed the now half-empty apartments.
+
+"Well, my cousin?"
+
+"You provoke me--well, then, what said your friend?"
+
+"That you deserved your reputation of beauty, but that you were not his
+style. Maltravers is in love, you know."
+
+"In love?"
+
+"Yes, a pretty Frenchwoman! quite romantic--an attachment of some years'
+standing."
+
+Florence turned away her face, and said no more.
+
+"That's a good fellow, Lumley," said Lord Saxingham; "Florence is never
+more welcome to my eyes than at half-past one o'clock A.M., when I
+associate her with thoughts of my natural rest, and my unfortunate
+carriage-horses. By the by, I wish you would dine with me next
+Saturday."
+
+"Saturday: unfortunately I am engaged to my uncle."
+
+"Oh! he has behaved handsomely to you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Mrs. Templeton pretty well?"
+
+"I fancy so."
+
+"As ladies wish to be, etc.?" whispered his lordship.
+
+"No, thank Heaven!"
+
+"Well, if the old man could but make you his heir, we might think twice
+about the title."
+
+"My dear lord, stop! one favour--write me a line to hint that
+delicately."
+
+"No--no letters; letters always get into the papers."
+
+"But cautiously worded--no danger of publication, on my honour."
+
+"I'll think of it. Good night."
+
+
+
+
+BOOK VII.
+
+ Every man should strive to be as good as possible, but not
+ suppose himself to be the only thing that is good.
+        --PLOTIN. EN. 11. lib. ix. c. 9.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ "Deceit is the strong but subtle chain which runs through
+  all the members of a society, and links them together;
+  trick or be tricked is the alternative; 'tis the way of
+  the world, and without it intercourse would drop."
+        _Anonymous writer_ of 1722.
+
+ "A lovely child she was, of looks serene,
+  And motions which o'er things indifferent shed
+  The grace and gentleness from whence they came."
+        PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
+
+ "His years but young, but his experience old."--SHAKESPEARE.
+
+ "He after honour hunts, I after love."--_Ibid._
+
+LUMLEY FERRERS was one of the few men in the world who act upon a
+profound, deliberate, and organized system--he had done so even from
+a boy. When he was twenty-one, he had said to himself, "Youth is the
+season for enjoyment: the triumphs of manhood, the wealth of age, do not
+compensate for a youth spent in unpleasurable toils." Agreeably to this
+maxim, he had resolved not to adopt any profession; and being fond of
+travel, and of a restless temper, he had indulged abroad in all the
+gratifications that his moderate income could afford him: that income
+went farther on the Continent than at home, which was another reason
+for the prolongation of his travels. Now, when the whims and passions of
+youth were sated; and, ripened by a consummate and various knowledge of
+mankind, his harder capacities of mind became developed and centred into
+such ambition as it was his nature to conceive, he acted no less upon a
+regular and methodical plan of conduct, which he carried into details.
+He had little or nothing within himself to cross his cold theories by
+contradictory practice; for he was curbed by no principles and regulated
+but by few tastes: and our tastes are often checks as powerful as our
+principles. Looking round the English world, Ferrers saw, that at his
+age and with an equivocal position, and no chances to throw away, it was
+necessary that he should cast off all attributes of the character of the
+wanderer and the _garcon_.
+
+"There is nothing respectable in lodgings and a cab," said Ferrers to
+himself--that "_self_" was his grand confidant!--"nothing stationary.
+Such are the appliances of a here-to-day-gone-to-morrow kind of life.
+One never looks substantial till one pays rates and taxes, and has a
+bill with one's butcher!"
+
+Accordingly, without saying a word to anybody, Ferrers took a long lease
+of a large house, in one of those quiet streets that proclaim the owners
+do not wish to be made by fashionable situations--streets in which, if
+you have a large house, it is supposed to be because you can afford one.
+He was very particular in its being a respectable street--Great George
+Street, Westminster, was the one he selected.
+
+No frippery or baubles, common to the mansions of young bachelors--no
+buhl, and marquetrie, and Sevres china, and cabinet pictures,
+distinguished the large dingy drawing-rooms of Lumley Ferrers. He bought
+all the old furniture a bargain of the late tenant--tea-coloured chintz
+curtains, and chairs and sofas that were venerable and solemn with the
+accumulated dust of twenty-five years. The only things about which
+he was particular were a very long dining-table that would hold
+four-and-twenty, and a new mahogany sideboard. Somebody asked him why
+he cared about such articles. "I don't know," said he "but I observe
+all respectable family-men do--there must be something in it--I shall
+discover the secret by and by."
+
+In this house did Mr. Ferrers ensconce himself with two middle-aged
+maidservants, and a man out of livery, whom he chose from a multitude
+of candidates, because the man looked especially well fed. Having thus
+settled himself, and told every one that the lease of his house was
+for sixty-three years, Lumley Ferrers made a little calculation of his
+probable expenditure, which he found, with good management, might amount
+to about one-fourth more than his income.
+
+"I shall take the surplus out of my capital," said he, "and try the
+experiment for five years; if it don't do, and pay me profitably, why,
+then either men are not to be lived upon, or Lumley Ferrers is a much
+duller clog than he thinks himself!"
+
+Mr. Ferrers had deeply studied the character of his uncle, as a prudent
+speculator studies the qualities of a mine in which he means to invest
+his capital, and much of his present proceedings was intended to act
+upon the uncle as well as upon the world. He saw that the more he could
+obtain for himself, not a noisy, social, fashionable reputation, but
+a good, sober, substantial one, the more highly Mr. Templeton would
+consider him, and the more likely he was to be made his uncle's
+heir,--that is, provided Mrs. Templeton did not supersede the nepotal
+parasite by indigenous olive-branches. This last apprehension died away
+as time passed, and no signs of fertility appeared. And, accordingly,
+Ferrers thought he might prudently hazard more upon the game on which
+he now ventured to rely. There was one thing, however, that greatly
+disturbed his peace; Mr. Templeton, though harsh and austere in his
+manner to his wife, was evidently attached to her; and, above all, he
+cherished the fondest affection for his stepdaughter. He was as anxious
+for her health, her education, her little childish enjoyments, as if he
+had been not only her parent, but a very doting one. He could not bear
+her to be crossed or thwarted. Mr. Templeton, who had never spoiled
+anything before, not even an old pen (so careful, and calculating, and
+methodical was he), did his best to spoil this beautiful child whom he
+could not even have the vain luxury of thinking he had produced to the
+admiring world. Softly, exquisitely lovely was that little girl; and
+every day she increased in the charm of her person, and in the caressing
+fascination of her childish ways. Her temper was so sweet and docile,
+that fondness and petting, however injudiciously exhibited, only seemed
+yet more to bring out the colours of a grateful and tender nature.
+Perhaps the measured kindness of more reserved affection might have been
+the true way of spoiling one whose instincts were all for exacting and
+returning love. She was a plant that suns less warm might have nipped
+and chilled. But beneath an uncapricious and unclouded sunshine she
+sprang up in a luxurious bloom of heart and sweetness of disposition.
+
+Every one, even those who did not generally like children, delighted
+in this charming creature, excepting only Mr. Lumley Ferrers. But that
+gentleman, less mild than Pope's Narcissa,--
+
+   "To make a wash, had gladly stewed the child!"
+
+He had seen how very common it is for a rich man, married late in life,
+to leave everything to a young widow and her children by her former
+marriage, when once attached to the latter; and he sensibly felt that
+he himself had but a slight hold over Templeton by the chain of the
+affections. He resolved, therefore, as much as possible, to alienate his
+uncle from his young wife; trusting that, as the influence of the wife
+was weakened, that of the child would be lessened also; and to raise in
+Templeton's vanity and ambition an ally that might supply to himself
+the want of love. He pursued his twofold scheme with masterly art and
+address. He first sought to secure the confidence and regard of the
+melancholy and gentle mother; and in this--for she was peculiarly
+unsuspicious and inexperienced, he obtained signal and complete success.
+His frankness of manner, his deferential attention, the art with which
+he warded off from her the spleen or ill-humour of Mr. Templeton, the
+cheerfulness that his easy gaiety threw over a very gloomy house, made
+the poor lady hail his visits and trust in his friendship. Perhaps
+she was glad of any interruption to _tetes-a-tetes_ with a severe and
+ungenial husband, who had no sympathy for the sorrows, of whatever
+nature they might be, which preyed upon her, and who made it a point of
+morality to find fault wherever he could.
+
+The next step in Lumley's policy was to arm Templeton's vanity against
+his wife, by constantly refreshing his consciousness of the sacrifices
+he had made by marriage, and the certainty that he would have attained
+all his wishes had he chosen more prudently. By perpetually, but
+most judiciously, rubbing this sore point, he, as it were, fixed the
+irritability into Templeton's constitution, and it reacted on all
+his thoughts, aspiring or domestic. Still, however, to Lumley's great
+surprise and resentment, while Templeton cooled to his wife, he only
+warmed to her child. Lumley had not calculated enough upon the thirst
+and craving for affection in most human hearts; and Templeton, though
+not exactly an amiable man, had some excellent qualities; if he had less
+sensitively regarded the opinion of the world, he would neither have
+contracted the vocabulary of cant, nor sickened for a peerage--both his
+affectation of saintship, and his gnawing desire of rank, arose from an
+extraordinary and morbid deference to opinion, and a wish for worldly
+honours and respect, which he felt that his mere talents could not
+secure to him. But he was, at bottom, a kindly man--charitable to the
+poor, considerate to his servants, and had within him the want to love
+and be loved, which is one of the desires wherewith the atoms of the
+universe are cemented and harmonised. Had Mrs. Templeton evinced love
+to him, he might have defied all Lumley's diplomacy, been consoled for
+worldly disadvantages, and been a good and even uxorious husband. But
+she evidently did not love him, though an admirable, patient, provident
+wife; and her daughter _did_ love him--love him as well even as she
+loved her mother; and the hard worldling would not have accepted a
+kingdom as the price of that little fountain of pure and ever-refreshing
+tenderness. Wise and penetrating as Lumley was, he never could
+thoroughly understand this weakness, as he called it; for we never know
+men entirely, unless we have complete sympathies with men in all their
+natural emotions; and Nature had left the workmanship of Lumley Ferrers
+unfinished and incomplete, by denying him the possibility of caring for
+anything but himself.
+
+His plan for winning Templeton's esteem and deference was, however,
+completely triumphant. He took care that nothing in his _menage_ should
+appear "_extravagant_;" all was sober, quiet, and well-regulated.
+He declared that he had so managed as to live within his income: and
+Templeton receiving no hint for money, nor aware that Ferrers had on the
+Continent consumed a considerable portion of his means, believed him.
+Ferrers gave a great many dinners, but he did not go on that foolish
+plan which has been laid down by persons who pretend to know life, as
+a means of popularity--he did not profess to give dinners better than
+other people. He knew that, unless you are a very rich or a very great
+man, no folly is equal to that of thinking that you soften the hearts
+of your friends by soups _a la bisque_, and Johannisberg at a guinea a
+bottle. They all go away saying, "What right has that d----d fellow
+to give a better dinner than we do? What horrid taste! What ridiculous
+presumption."
+
+No; though Ferrers himself was a most scientific epicure, and held
+the luxury of the palate at the highest possible price, he dieted his
+friends on what he termed "respectable fare." His cook put plenty
+of flour into the oyster sauce; cod's head and shoulders made his
+invariable fish; and four _entrees_, without flavour or pretence, were
+duly supplied by the pastry-cook, and carefully eschewed by the host.
+Neither did Mr. Ferrers affect to bring about him gay wits and brilliant
+talkers. He confined himself to men of substantial consideration, and
+generally took care to be himself the cleverest person present; while
+he turned the conversation on serious matters crammed for the
+occasion--politics, stocks, commerce, and the criminal code. Pruning
+his gaiety, though he retained his frankness, he sought to be known as
+a highly-informed, painstaking man, who would be sure to rise. His
+connections, and a certain nameless charm about him, consisting chiefly
+in a pleasant countenance, a bold yet winning candour, and the absence
+of all _hauteur_ or pretence, enabled him to assemble round this
+plain table, which, if it gratified no taste, wounded no self-love, a
+sufficient number of public men of rank, and eminent men of business, to
+answer his purpose. The situation he had chosen, so near the Houses of
+Parliament, was convenient to politicians, and, by degrees, the large
+dingy drawing-rooms became a frequent resort for public men to talk over
+those thousand underplots by which a party is served or attached. Thus,
+though not in parliament himself, Ferrers became insensibly associated
+with parliamentary men and things, and the ministerial party, whose
+politics he espoused, praised him highly, made use of him, and meant,
+some day or other, to do something for him.
+
+While the career of this able and unprincipled man thus opened--and
+of course the opening was not made in a day--Ernest Maltravers was
+ascending by a rough, thorny, and encumbered path, to that eminence on
+which the monuments of men are built. His success in public life was
+not brilliant nor sudden. For, though he had eloquence and knowledge, he
+disdained all oratorical devices; and though he had passion and energy,
+he could scarcely be called a warm partisan. He met with much envy, and
+many obstacles; and the gracious and buoyant sociality of temper
+and manners that had, in early youth, made him the idol of his
+contemporaries at school or college, had long since faded away into a
+cold, settled, and lofty, though gentle reserve, which did not attract
+towards him the animal spirits of the herd. But though he spoke seldom,
+and heard many, with half his powers, more enthusiastically cheered, he
+did not fail of commanding attention and respect; and though no darling
+of cliques and parties, yet in that great body of the people who were
+ever the audience and tribunal to which, in letters or in politics,
+Maltravers appealed, there was silently growing up, and spreading wide,
+a belief in his upright intentions, his unpurchasable honour, and his
+correct and well-considered views. He felt that his name was safely
+invested, though the return for the capital was slow and moderate. He
+was contented to abide his time.
+
+Every day he grew more attached to that true philosophy which makes a
+man, as far as the world will permit, a world to himself; and from the
+height of a tranquil and serene self-esteem, he felt the sun shine above
+him, when malignant clouds spread sullen and ungenial below. He did not
+despise or wilfully shock opinion, neither did he fawn upon and flatter
+it. Where he thought the world should be humoured, he humoured--where
+contemned, he contemned it. There are many cases in which an honest,
+well-educated, high-hearted individual is a much better judge than the
+multitude of what is right and what is wrong; and in these matters he is
+not worth three straws if he suffer the multitude to bully or coax him
+out of his judgment. The Public, if you indulge it, is a most damnable
+gossip, thrusting its nose into people's concerns, where it has no right
+to make or meddle; and in those things, where the Public is impertinent,
+Maltravers scorned and resisted its interference as haughtily as he
+would the interference of any insolent member of the insolent whole.
+It was this mixture of deep love and profound respect for the eternal
+PEOPLE, and of calm, passionless disdain for that capricious charlatan,
+the momentary PUBLIC, which made Ernest Maltravers an original and
+solitary thinker; and an actor, in reality modest and benevolent, in
+appearance arrogant and unsocial. "Pauperism, in contradistinction to
+poverty," he was wont to say, "is the dependence upon other people for
+existence, not on our own exertions; there is a moral pauperism in
+the man who is dependent on others for that support of moral
+life--self-respect."
+
+Wrapped in this philosophy, he pursued his haughty and lonesome way,
+and felt that in the deep heart of mankind, when prejudices and envies
+should die off, there would be a sympathy with his motives and his
+career. So far as his own health was concerned, the experiment
+had answered. No mere drudgery of business--late hours and dull
+speeches--can produce the dread exhaustion which follows the efforts
+of the soul to mount into the higher air of severe thought or intense
+imagination. Those faculties which had been overstrained now lay
+fallow--and the frame rapidly regained its tone. Of private comfort and
+inspiration Ernest knew but little. He gradually grew estranged from his
+old friend Ferrers, as their habits became opposed. Cleveland lived more
+and more in the country, and was too well satisfied with his quondam
+pupil's course of life and progressive reputation to trouble him with
+exhortation or advice. Cesarini had grown a literary lion, whose genius
+was vehemently lauded by all the reviews--on the same principle as that
+which induces us to praise foreign singers or dead men;--we must praise
+something, and we don't like to praise those who jostle ourselves.
+Cesarini had therefore grown prodigiously conceited--swore that England
+was the only country for true merit; and no longer concealed his jealous
+anger at the wider celebrity of Maltravers. Ernest saw him squandering
+away his substance, and prostituting his talents to drawing-room
+trifles, with a compassionate sigh. He sought to warn him, but Cesarini
+listened to him with such impatience that he resigned the office of
+monitor. He wrote to De Montaigne, who succeeded no better. Cesarini was
+bent on playing his own game. And to one game, without a metaphor, he
+had at last come. His craving for excitement vented itself at Hazard,
+and his remaining guineas melted daily away.
+
+But De Montaigne's letters to Maltravers consoled him for the loss of
+less congenial friends. The Frenchman was now an eminent and celebrated
+man; and his appreciation of Maltravers was sweeter to the latter than
+would have been the huzzas of crowds. But, all this while, his vanity
+was pleased and his curiosity roused by the continued correspondence of
+his unseen Egeria. That correspondence (if so it may be called, being
+all on one side) had now gone on for a considerable time, and he
+was still wholly unable to discover the author: its tone had of late
+altered--it had become more sad and subdued--it spoke of the hollowness
+as well as the rewards of fame; and, with a touch of true womanly
+sentiment, often hinted more at the rapture of soothing dejection,
+than of sharing triumph. In all these letters, there was the undeniable
+evidence of high intellect and deep feeling; they excited a strong and
+keen interest in Maltravers, yet the interest was not that which made
+him wish to discover, in order that he might love, the writer. They
+were for the most part too full of the irony and bitterness of a man's
+spirit, to fascinate one who considered that gentleness was the essence
+of a woman's strength. Temper spoke in them, no less than mind and
+heart, and it was not the sort of temper which a man who loves women to
+be womanly could admire.
+
+"I hear you often spoken of" (ran one of these strange epistles), "and I
+am almost equally angry whether fools presume to praise or to blame you.
+This miserable world we live in, how I loathe and disdain it!--yet I
+desire you to serve and to master it! Weak contradiction, effeminate
+paradox! Oh! rather a thousand times that you would fly from its mean
+temptations and poor rewards!--if the desert were your dwelling-place
+and you wished one minister, I could renounce all--wealth, flattery,
+repute, womanhood--to serve you.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"I once admired you for your genius. My disease has fastened on me,
+and I now almost worship you for yourself. I have seen you, Ernest
+Maltravers,--seen you often,--and when you never suspected that these
+eyes were on you. Now that I have seen, I understand you better. We can
+not judge men by their books and deeds. Posterity can know nothing of
+the beings of the past. A thousand books never written--a thousand deeds
+never done--are in the eyes and lips of the few greater than the herd.
+In that cold, abstracted gaze, that pale and haughty brow, I read the
+disdain of obstacles, which is worthy of one who is confident of the
+goal. But my eyes fill with tears when I survey you!--you are sad, you
+are alone! If failures do not mortify you, success does not elevate. Oh,
+Maltravers, I, woman as I am, and living in a narrow circle, I, even
+I, know at last that to have desires nobler, and ends more august, than
+others, is but to surrender waking life to morbid and melancholy dreams.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"Go more into the world, Maltravers--go more into the world, or quit
+it altogether. Your enemies must be met; they accumulate, they grow
+strong--you are too tranquil, too slow in your steps towards the
+prize which should be yours, to satisfy my impatience, to satisfy
+your friends. Be less refined in your ambition that you may be more
+immediately useful. The feet of clay after all are the swiftest in the
+race. Even Lumley Ferrers will outstrip you if you do not take heed.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"Why do I run on thus!--you--you love another, yet you are not less
+the ideal that I could love--if ever I loved any one. You love--and
+yet--well--no matter."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+ "Well, but this is being only an official nobleman. No matter,
+  'tis still being a nobleman, and that's his aim."
+   _Anonymous writer of 1772_.
+
+ "La musique est le seul des talens qui jouissent de lui-meme;
+  tons les autres veulent des temoins."*--MARMONTEL.
+
+* Music is the sole talent which gives pleasure of itself; all the
+others require witnesses.
+
+ "Thus the slow ox would gaudy trappings claim."--HORACE.
+
+MR. TEMPLETON had not obtained his peerage, and, though he had met with
+no direct refusal, nor made even a direct application to headquarters,
+he was growing sullen. He had great parliamentary influence, not close
+borough, illegitimate influence, but very proper orthodox influence of
+character, wealth, and so forth. He could return one member at least
+for a city--he could almost return one member for a county, and in
+three boroughs any activity on his part could turn the scale in a close
+contest. The ministers were strong, but still they could not afford
+to lose supporters hitherto zealous--the example of desertion is
+contagious. In the town which Templeton had formerly represented, and
+which he now almost commanded, a vacancy suddenly occurred--a candidate
+started on the opposition side and commenced a canvass; to the
+astonishment and panic of the Secretary of the Treasury, Templeton
+put forward no one, and his interest remained dormant. Lord Saxingham
+hurried to Lumley.
+
+"My dear fellow, what is this?--what can your uncle be about? We shall
+lose this place--one of our strongholds. Bets run even."
+
+"Why, you see, you have all behaved very ill to my uncle--I am really
+sorry for it, but I can do nothing."
+
+"What, this confounded peerage! Will that content him, and nothing short
+of it?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"He must have it, by Jove!"
+
+"And even that may come too late."
+
+"Ha! do you think so?"
+
+"Will you leave the matter to me?"
+
+"Certainly--you are a monstrous clever fellow, and we all esteem you."
+
+"Sit down and write as I dictate, my dear lord."
+
+"Well," said Lord Saxingham, seating himself at Lumley's enormous
+writing-table--"well, go on."
+
+"_My dear Mr. Templeton_--"
+
+"Too familiar," said Lord Saxingham.
+
+"Not a bit; go on."
+
+"_My dear Mr. Templeton:_--
+
+"_We are anxious to secure your parliamentary influence in C------ to
+the proper quarter, namely, to your own family, as the best defenders of
+the administration, which you honour by your support. We wish signally,
+at the same time, to express our confidence in your principles, and our
+gratitude for your countenance._"
+
+"D-----d sour countenance!" muttered Lord Saxingham.
+
+"_Accordingly,_" continued Ferrers, "_as one whose connection with you
+permits the liberty, allow me to request that you will suffer our joint
+relation, Mr. Ferrers, to be put into immediate nomination._"
+
+Lord Saxingham threw down the pen and laughed for two minutes without
+ceasing. "Capital, Lumley, capital--Very odd I did not think of it
+before."
+
+"Each man for himself, and God for us all," returned Lumley, gravely:
+"pray go on, my dear lord."
+
+"_We are sure you could not have a representative that would, more
+faithfully reflect your own opinions and our interests. One word more. A
+creation of peers will probably take place in the spring, among which
+I am sure your name would be to his Majesty a gratifying addition; the
+title will of course be secured to your sons--and failing the latter, to
+your nephew._
+
+     "_With great regard and respect,_
+
+        "_Truly yours,_
+
+          "_SAXINGHAM._"
+
+"There, inscribe that 'Private and confidential,' and send it express to
+my uncle's villa."
+
+"It shall be done, my dear Lumley--and this contents me as much as it
+does you. You are really a man to do us credit. You think it will be
+arranged?"
+
+"No doubt of it."
+
+"Well, good day. Lumley, come to me when it is all settled: Florence is
+always glad to see you; she says no one amuses her more. And I am
+sure that is rare praise, for she is a strange girl,--quite a Timon in
+petticoats."
+
+Away went Lord Saxingham.
+
+"Florence glad to see me!" said Lumley, throwing his arms behind him,
+and striding to and fro the room--"Scheme the Second begins to smile
+upon me behind the advancing shadow of Scheme One. If I can but succeed
+in keeping away other suitors from my fair cousin until I am in a
+condition to propose myself, why, I may carry off the greatest match in
+the three kingdoms. _Courage, mon brave Ferrers, courage!_"
+
+It was late that evening when Ferrers arrived at his uncle's villa. He
+found Mrs. Templeton in the drawing-room seated at the piano. He entered
+gently; she did not hear him, and continued at the instrument. Her voice
+was so sweet and rich, her taste so pure, that Ferrers, who was a good
+judge of music, stood in delighted surprise. Often as he had now been
+a visitor, even an inmate, at the house, he had never before heard Mrs.
+Templeton play any but sacred airs, and this was one of the popular
+songs of sentiment. He perceived that her feeling at last overpowered
+her voice, and she paused abruptly, and turning round, her face was so
+eloquent of emotion, that Ferrers was forcibly struck by its expression.
+He was not a man apt to feel curiosity for anything not immediately
+concerning himself; but he did feel curious about this melancholy and
+beautiful woman. There was in her usual aspect that inexpressible look
+of profound resignation which betokens a lasting remembrance of a bitter
+past: a prematurely blighted heart spoke in her eyes, in her smile, her
+languid and joyless step. But she performed the routine of her quiet
+duties with a calm and conscientious regularity which showed that grief
+rather depressed than disturbed her thoughts. If her burden were heavy,
+custom seemed to have reconciled her to bear it without repining; and
+the emotion which Ferrers now traced in her soft and harmonious features
+was of a nature he had only once witnessed before--viz., on the first
+night he had seen her, when poetry, which is the key of memory, had
+evidently opened a chamber haunted by mournful and troubled ghosts.
+
+"Ah! dear madam," said Ferrers, advancing, as he found himself
+discovered, "I trust I do not disturb you. My visit is unseasonable; but
+my uncle--where is he?"
+
+"He has been in town all the morning; he said he should dine out, and I
+now expect him every minute."
+
+"You have been endeavouring to charm away the sense of his absence. Dare
+I ask you to continue to play? It is seldom that I hear a voice so
+sweet and skill so consummate. You must have been instructed by the best
+Italian masters."
+
+"No," said Mrs. Templeton, with a very slight colour in her delicate
+cheek, "I learned young, and of one who loved music and felt it; but who
+was not a foreigner."
+
+"Will you sing me that song again?--you give the words a beauty I never
+discovered in them; yet they (as well as the music itself), are by my
+poor friend whom Mr. Templeton does not like--Maltravers."
+
+"Are they his also?" said Mrs. Templeton, with emotion; "it is strange I
+did not know it. I heard the air in the streets, and it struck me much.
+I inquired the name of the song and bought it--it is very strange!"
+
+"What is strange?"
+
+"That there is a kind of language in your friend's music and poetry
+which comes home to me, like words I have heard years ago! Is he young,
+this Mr. Maltravers?"
+
+"Yes, he is still young."
+
+"And, and--"
+
+Here Mrs. Templeton was interrupted by the entrance of her husband.
+He held the letter from Lord Saxingham--it was yet unopened. He seemed
+moody; but that was common with him. He coldly shook hands with Lumley;
+nodded to his wife, found fault with the fire, and throwing himself into
+his easy-chair, said, "So, Lumley, I think I was a fool for taking your
+advice--and hanging back about this new election. I see by the evening
+papers that there is shortly to be a creation of peers. If I had shown
+activity on behalf of the government I might have shamed them into
+gratitude."
+
+"I think I was right, sir," replied Lumley; "public men are often
+alarmed into gratitude, seldom shamed into it. Firm votes, like old
+friends, are most valued when we think we are about to lose them; but
+what is that letter in your hand?"
+
+"Oh, some begging petition, I suppose."
+
+"Pardon me--it has an official look." Templeton put on his spectacles,
+raised the letter, examined the address and seal, hastily opened it,
+and broke into an exclamation very like an oath: when he had
+concluded--"Give me your hand, nephew--the thing is settled--I am to
+have the peerage. You were right--ha, ha!--my dear wife, you will be my
+lady, think of that--aren't you glad?--why don't your ladyship smile?
+Where's the child--where is she, I say?"
+
+"Gone to bed, sir," said Mrs. Templeton, half frightened.
+
+"Gone to bed! I must go and kiss her. Gone to bed, has she? Light that
+candle, Lumley." [Here Mr. Templeton rang the bell.] "John," said he,
+as the servant entered,--"John, tell James to go the first thing in the
+morning to Baxter's, and tell him not to paint my chariot till he hears
+from me. I must go kiss the child--I must, really."
+
+"D--- the child," muttered Lumley, as, after giving the candle to his
+uncle, he turned to the fire; "what the deuce has she got to do with
+the matter? Charming little girl--yours, madam! how I love her! My uncle
+dotes on her--no wonder!"
+
+"He is, indeed, very, very, fond of her," said Mrs. Templeton, with a
+sigh that seemed to come from the depth of her heart.
+
+"Did he take a fancy to her before you were married?"
+
+"Yes, I believe--oh yes, certainly."
+
+"Her own father could not be more fond of her."
+
+Mrs. Templeton made no answer, but lighted her candle, and wishing
+Lumley good night, glided from the room.
+
+"I wonder if my grave aunt and my grave uncle took a bite at the apple
+before they bought the right of the tree. It looks suspicious; yet no,
+it can't be; there is nothing of the seducer or the seductive about the
+old fellow. It is not likely--here he comes."
+
+In came Templeton, and his eyes were moist, and his brow relaxed.
+
+"And how is the little angel, sir?" asked Ferrers.
+
+"She kissed me, though I woke her up; children are usually cross when
+wakened."
+
+"Are they?--little dears! Well, sir, so I was right, then; may I see the
+letter?"
+
+"There it is."
+
+Ferrers drew his chair to the fire, and read his own production with all
+the satisfaction of an anonymous author.
+
+"How kind!--how considerate!--how delicately put!--a double favour! But
+perhaps, after all, it does not express your wishes."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"Why--why--about myself."
+
+"_You!_--is there anything about _you_ in it?--I did not observe
+_that_--let me see."
+
+"Uncles never selfish!--mem. for commonplace book!" thought Ferrers.
+
+The uncle knit his brows as he re-perused the letter. "This won't do,
+Lumley," said he very shortly, when he had done.
+
+"A seat in parliament is too much honour for a poor nephew, then, sir?"
+said Lumley, very bitterly, though he did not feel at all bitter; but
+it was the proper tone. "I have done all in my power to advance your
+ambition, and you will not even lend a hand to forward me one step in my
+career. But, forgive me, sir, I have no right to expect it."
+
+"Lumley," replied Templeton, kindly, "you mistake me. I think much more
+highly of you than I did--much: there is a steadiness, a sobriety about
+you most praiseworthy, and you shall go into parliament if you wish it;
+but not for C------. I will give my interest there to some other friend
+of the government, and in return they can give you a treasury borough!
+That is the same thing to you."
+
+Lumley was agreeably surprised--he pressed his uncle's hand warmly, and
+thanked him cordially. Mr. Templeton proceeded to explain to him that it
+was inconvenient and expensive sitting for places where one's family was
+known, and Lumley fully subscribed to all.
+
+"As for the settlement of the peerage, that is all right," said
+Templeton; and then he sank into a reverie, from which he broke
+joyously--"yes, that is all right. I have projects, objects--this
+may unite them all--nothing can be better--you will be the next
+lord--what--I say, what title shall we have?"
+
+"Oh, take a sounding one--you have very little landed property, I
+think?"
+
+"Two thousand a year in ------shire, bought a bargain."
+
+"What's the name of the place?"
+
+"Grubley."
+
+"Lord Grubley!--Baron Grubley of Grubley--oh, atrocious! Who had the
+place before you?"
+
+"Bought it of Mr. Sheepshanks--very old family."
+
+"But surely some old Norman once had the place?"
+
+"Norman, yes! Henry the Second gave it to his barber--Bertram Courval."
+
+"That's it!--that's it! Lord de Courval--singular coincidence!--descent
+from the old line. Herald's College soon settle all that. Lord de
+Courval!--nothing can sound better. There must be a village or hamlet
+still called Courval about the property."
+
+"I am afraid not. There is Coddle End!"
+
+"Coddle End!--Coddle End!--the very thing, sir--the very thing--clear
+corruption from Courval!--Lord de Courval of Courval! Superb! Ha! ha!"
+
+"Ha! ha!" laughed Templeton, and he had hardly laughed before since he
+was thirty.
+
+The relations sat long and conversed familiarly. Ferrers slept at the
+villa, and his sleep was sound; for he thought little of plans once
+formed and half executed; it was the hunt that kept him awake, and he
+slept like a hound when the prey was down. Not so Templeton, who did
+not close his eyes all night.--"Yes, yes," thought he, "I must get
+the fortune and the title in one line by a prudent management. Ferrers
+deserves what I mean to do for him. Steady, good-natured, frank, and
+will get on--yes, yes, I see it all. Meanwhile I did well to prevent
+his standing for C------; might pick up gossip about Mrs. T., and other
+things that might be unpleasant. Ah, I'm a shrewd fellow!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ "_Lauzun._--There, Marquis, there, I've done it.
+  _Montespan._--Done it! yes! Nice doings!"
+        _The Duchess de la Valliere_.
+
+LUMLEY hastened to strike while the iron was hot. The next morning he
+went straight to the Treasury--saw the managing secretary, a clever,
+sharp man, who, like Ferrers, carried off intrigue and manoeuvre by a
+blunt, careless, bluff manner.
+
+Ferrers announced that he was to stand for the free, respectable, open
+city of C------, with an electoral population of 2,500. A very showy
+place it was for a member in the old ante-reform times, and was
+considered a thoroughly independent borough. The secretary congratulated
+and complimented him.
+
+"We have had losses lately in _our_ elections among the larger
+constituencies," said Lumley.
+
+"We have indeed--three towns lost in the last six months. Members do die
+so very unseasonably."
+
+"Is Lord Staunch yet provided for?" asked Lumley. Now Lord Staunch was
+one of the popular show-fight great guns of the administration--not in
+office, but that most useful person to all governments, an out-and-out
+supporter upon the most independent principles--who was known to have
+refused place and to value himself on independence--a man who helped the
+government over the stile when it was seized with a temporary lameness,
+and who carried "great weight with him in the country." Lord Staunch had
+foolishly thrown up a close borough in order to contest a large city,
+and had failed in the attempt. His failure was everywhere cited as a
+proof of the growing unpopularity of ministers.
+
+"Is Lord Staunch yet provided for?" asked Lumley.
+
+"Why, he must have his old seat--Three-Oaks. Three-Oaks is a nice, quiet
+little place; most respectable constituency--all Staunch's own family."
+
+"Just the thing for him; yet, 'tis a pity that he did not wait to stand
+for C------; my uncle's interest would have secured him."
+
+"Ay, I thought so the moment C------ was vacant. However, it is too late
+now."
+
+"It would be a great triumph if Lord Staunch could show that a large
+constituency volunteered to elect him without expense."
+
+"Without expense!--Ah, yes, indeed! It would prove that purity of
+election still exists--that British institutions are still upheld."
+
+"It might be done, Mr. ------."
+
+"Why, I thought that you--"
+
+"Were to stand--that is true--and it will be difficult to manage my
+uncle; but he loves me much--you know I am his heir--I believe I could
+do it; that is, if you think it would be _a very great advantage_ to the
+party, and _a very great service_ to the government."
+
+"Why, Mr. Ferrers, it would indeed be both."
+
+"And in that case I could have Three-Oaks."
+
+"I see--exactly so; but to give up so respectable a seat--really it is a
+sacrifice."
+
+"Say no more, it shall be done. A deputation shall wait on Lord Staunch
+directly. I will see my uncle, and a despatch shall be sent down to
+C------ to-night; at least, I hope so. I must not be too confident.
+My uncle is an old man, nobody but myself can manage him; I'll go this
+instant."
+
+"You may be sure your kindness will be duly appreciated."
+
+Lumley shook hands cordially with the secretary and retired. The
+secretary was not "humbugged," nor did Lumley expect he should be. But
+the secretary noted this of Lumley Ferrers (and that gentleman's object
+was gained), that Lumley Ferrers was a man who looked out for office,
+and if he did tolerably well in parliament, that Lumley Ferrers was a
+man who ought to be _pushed_.
+
+Very shortly afterwards the _Gazette_ announced the election of Lord
+Staunch for C------, after a sharp but decisive contest. The ministerial
+journals rang with exulting paeans; the opposition ones called the
+electors of C------ all manner of hard names, and declared that Mr.
+Stout, Lord Staunch's opponent, would petition--which he never did. In
+the midst of the hubbub, Mr. Lumley Ferrers quietly and unobservedly
+crept into the representation of Three-Oaks.
+
+On the night of his election he went to Lord Saxingham's; but what there
+happened deserves another chapter.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+ "Je connois des princes du sang, des princes etrangers, des
+  grands seigneurs, des ministres d'etat, des magistrats, et
+  des philosophes qui fileroient pour l'amour de vous. En
+  pouvez-vous demander davantage?"*
+        _Lettres de Madame de Sevigne_
+
+* I know princes of the blood, foreign princes, great lords, ministers
+of state, magistrates, and philosophers who would even spin for love of
+you. What can you ask more?
+
+ "_Lindore._ I--I believe it will choke me. I'm in love * * * Now
+hold your tongue. Hold your tongue, I say.
+
+ "_Dalner._ You in love! Ha! ha!
+
+ "_Lind._ There, he laughs.
+
+ "_Dal._ No; I am really sorry for you."
+
+        _German Play (False Delicacy)_.
+
+   *  *  *  "What is here?
+
+            Gold."--SHAKSPEARE.
+
+IT happened that that evening Maltravers had, for the first time,
+accepted one of many invitations with which Lord Saxingham had honoured
+him. His lordship and Maltravers were of different political parties,
+nor were they in other respects adapted to each other. Lord Saxingham
+was a clever man in his way, but worldly even to a proverb among worldly
+people. That "man was born to walk erect and look upon the stars," is
+an eloquent fallacy that Lord Saxingham might suffice to disprove. He
+seemed born to walk with a stoop; and if he ever looked upon any
+stars, they were those which go with a garter. Though of celebrated and
+historical ancestry, great rank, and some personal reputation, he had
+all the ambition of a _parvenu_. He had a strong regard for office, not
+so much from the sublime affection for that sublime thing,--power over
+the destinies of a glorious nation,--as because it added to that vulgar
+thing--importance in his own set. He looked on his cabinet uniform as
+a beadle looks on his gold lace. He also liked patronage, secured good
+things to distant connections, got on his family to the remotest degree
+of relationship; in short, he was of the earth, earthy. He did not
+comprehend Maltravers; and Maltravers, who every day grew prouder and
+prouder, despised him. Still, Lord Saxingham was told that Maltravers
+was a rising man, and he thought it well to be civil to rising men, of
+whatever party; besides, his vanity was flattered by having men who are
+talked of in his train. He was too busy and too great a personage to
+think Maltravers could be other than sincere, when he declared himself,
+in his notes, "very sorry," or "much concerned," to forego the honour of
+dining with Lord Saxingham on the, &c., &c.; and therefore continued
+his invitations, till Maltravers, from that fatality which undoubtedly
+regulates and controls us, at last accepted the proffered distinction.
+
+He arrived late--most of the guests were assembled; and, after
+exchanging a few words with his host, Ernest fell back into the general
+group, and found himself in the immediate neighbourhood of Lady Florence
+Lascelles. This lady had never much pleased Maltravers, for he was not
+fond of masculine or coquettish heroines, and Lady Florence seemed to
+him to merit both epithets; therefore, though he had met her often since
+the first day he had been introduced to her, he had usually contented
+himself with a distant bow or a passing salutation. But now, as he
+turned round and saw her, she was, for a miracle, sitting alone; and
+in her most dazzling and noble countenance there was so evident an
+appearance of ill health, that he was struck and touched by it. In fact,
+beautiful as she was, both in face and form, there was something in the
+eye and the bloom of Lady Florence, which a skilful physician would have
+seen with prophetic pain. And, whenever occasional illness paled the
+roses of the cheek, and sobered the play of the lips, even an ordinary
+observer would have thought of the old commonplace proverb--"that the
+brightest beauty has the briefest life." It was some sentiment of
+this kind, perhaps, that now awakened the sympathy of Maltravers. He
+addressed her with more marked courtesy than usual, and took a seat by
+her side.
+
+"You have been to the House, I suppose, Mr. Maltravers?" said Lady
+Florence.
+
+"Yes, for a short time; it is not one of our field nights--no division
+was expected; and by this time, I dare say, the House has been counted
+out."
+
+"Do you like the life?"
+
+"It has excitement," said Maltravers, evasively.
+
+"And the excitement is of a noble character?"
+
+"Scarcely so, I fear--it is so made up of mean and malignant
+motives,--there is in it so much jealousy of our friends, so much
+unfairness to our enemies;--such readiness to attribute to others the
+basest objects,--such willingness to avail ourselves of the poorest
+stratagems! The ends may be great, but the means are very ambiguous."
+
+"I knew _you_ would feel this," exclaimed Lady Florence, with a
+heightened colour.
+
+"Did you?" said Maltravers, rather interested as well as surprised. "I
+scarcely imagined it possible that you would deign to divine secrets so
+insignificant."
+
+"You did not do me justice, then," returned Lady Florence, with an arch
+yet half-painful smile; "for--but I was about to be impertinent."
+
+"Nay, say on."
+
+"For--then--I do not imagine you to be one apt to do injustice to
+yourself."
+
+"Oh, you consider me presumptuous and arrogant; but that is common
+report, and you do right, perhaps, to believe it."
+
+"Was there ever any one unconscious of his own merit?" asked Lady
+Florence, proudly. "They who distrust themselves have good reason for
+it."
+
+"You seek to cure the wound you inflicted," returned Maltravers,
+smiling.
+
+"No; what I said was an apology for myself, as well as for you. You need
+no words to vindicate you; you are a man, and can bear out all arrogance
+with the royal motto _Dieu et mon droit_. With you deeds can support
+pretension; but I am a woman--it was a mistake of Nature."
+
+"But what triumphs that man can achieve bring so immediate, so palpable
+a reward as those won by a woman, beautiful and admired--who finds every
+room an empire, and every class her subjects?"
+
+"It is a despicable realm."
+
+"What!--to command--to win--to bow to your worship--the greatest, and
+the highest, and the sternest; to own slaves in those whom men recognise
+as their lords! Is such a power despicable? If so, what power is to be
+envied?"
+
+Lady Florence turned quickly round to Maltravers, and fixed on him her
+large dark eyes, as if she would read into his very heart. She turned
+away with a blush and a slight frown--"There is mockery on your lip,"
+said she.
+
+Before Maltravers could answer, dinner was announced, and a foreign
+ambassador claimed the hand of Lady Florence. Maltravers saw a young
+lady with gold oats in her very light hair, fall to his lot, and
+descended to the dining-room, thinking more of Lady Florence Lascelles
+than he had ever done before.
+
+He happened to sit nearly opposite to the young mistress of the house
+(Lord Saxingham, as the reader knows, was a widower and Lady Florence
+an only child); and Maltravers was that day in one of those felicitous
+moods in which our animal spirits search and carry up, as it were,
+to the surface, our intellectual gifts and acquisitions. He conversed
+generally and happily; but once, when he turned his eyes to appeal to
+Lady Florence for her opinion on some point in discussion, he caught her
+gaze fixed upon him with an expression that checked the current of his
+gaiety, and cast him into a curious and bewildered reverie. In that gaze
+there was earnest and cordial admiration; but it was mixed with so much
+mournfulness, that the admiration lost its eloquence, and he who noticed
+it was rather saddened than flattered.
+
+After dinner, when Maltravers sought the drawing-rooms, he found
+them filled with the customary snob of good society. In one corner he
+discovered Castruccio Cesarini, playing on a guitar, slung across his
+breast with a blue riband. The Italian sang well; many young ladies were
+grouped round him, amongst others Florence Lascelles. Maltravers,
+fond as he was of music, looked upon Castruccio's performance as a
+disagreeable exhibition. He had a Quixotic idea of the dignity of
+talent; and though himself of a musical science, and a melody of voice
+that would have thrown the room into ecstasies, he would as soon have
+turned juggler or tumbler for polite amusement, as contend for the
+bravos of a drawing-room. It was because he was one of the proudest men
+in the world, that Maltravers was one of the least _vain_. He did
+not care a rush for applause in small things. But Cesarini would have
+summoned the whole world to see him play at push-pin, if he thought the
+played it well.
+
+"Beautiful! divine! charming!" cried the young ladies, as Cesarini
+ceased; and Maltravers observed that Florence praised more earnestly
+than the rest, and that Cesarini's dark eye sparkled, and his pale cheek
+flushed with unwonted brilliancy. Florence turned to Maltravers, and the
+Italian, following her eyes, frowned darkly.
+
+"You know the Signor Cesarini," said Florence, joining Maltravers. "He
+is an interesting and gifted person."
+
+"Unquestionably. I grieve to see him wasting his talents upon a soil
+that may yield a few short-lived flowers, without one useful plant or
+productive fruit."
+
+"He enjoys the passing hour, Mr. Maltravers; and sometimes, when I see
+the mortifications that await sterner labour, I think he is right."
+
+"Hush!" said Maltravers; "his eyes are on us--he is listening
+breathlessly for every word you utter. I fear that you have made an
+unconscious conquest of a poet's heart; and if so, he purchases the
+enjoyment of the passing hour at a fearful price."
+
+"Nay," said Lady Florence, indifferently, "he is one of those to
+whom the fancy supplies the place of the heart. And if I give him an
+inspiration, it will be an equal luxury to him whether his lyre be
+strung to hope or disappointment. The sweetness of his verses will
+compensate to him for any bitterness in actual life."
+
+"There are two kinds of love," answered Maltravers,--"love and
+self-love; the wounds of the last are often most incurable in those
+who appear least vulnerable to the first. Ah, Lady Florence, were I
+privileged to play the monitor, I would venture on one warning, however
+much it might offend you."
+
+"And that is--"
+
+"To forbear coquetry."
+
+Maltravers smiled as he spoke, but it was gravely--and at the same time
+he moved gently away. But Lady Florence laid her hand on his arm.
+
+"Mr. Maltravers," said she, very softly, and with a kind of faltering in
+her tone, "am I wrong to say that I am anxious for your good opinion?
+Do not judge me harshly. I am soured, discontented, unhappy. I have no
+sympathy with the world. These men whom I see around me--what are
+they? the mass of them unfeeling and silken egotists--ill-judging,
+ill-educated, well-dressed: the few who are called distinguished--how
+selfish in their ambition, how passionless in their pursuits! Am I to
+be blamed if I sometimes exert a power over such as these, which rather
+proves my scorn of them than my own vanity?"
+
+"I have no right to argue with you."
+
+"Yes, argue with me, convince me, guide me--Heaven knows that, impetuous
+and haughty as I am, I need a guide,"--and Lady Florence's eyes swam
+with tears. Ernest's prejudices against her were greatly shaken: he
+was even somewhat dazzled by her beauty, and touched by her unexpected
+gentleness; but still, his heart was not assailed, and he replied almost
+coldly, after a short pause:
+
+"Dear Lady Florence, look round the world--who so much to be envied
+as yourself? What sources of happiness and pride are open to you! Why,
+then, make to yourself causes of discontent?--why be scornful of those
+who cross not your path? Why not look with charity upon God's less
+endowed children, beneath you as they may seem? What consolation have
+you in hurting the hearts or the vanities of others? Do you raise
+yourself even in your own estimation? You affect to be above your
+sex--yet what character do you despise more in women than that which you
+assume? Semiramis should not be a coquette. There now, I have offended
+you--I confess I am very rude."
+
+"I am not offended," said Florence, almost struggling with her tears;
+and she added inly, "Ah, I am too happy!"--There are some lips from
+which even the proudest women love to hear the censure which appears to
+disprove indifference.
+
+It was at this time that Lumley Ferrers, flushed with the success of his
+schemes and projects, entered the room; and his quick eye fell upon
+that corner, in which he detected what appeared to him a very alarming
+flirtation between his rich cousin and Ernest Maltravers. He advanced to
+the spot, and, with his customary frankness, extended a hand to each.
+
+"Ah, my dear and fair cousin, give me your congratulations, and ask
+me for my first frank, to be bound up in a collection of autographs by
+distinguished senators--it will sell high one of these days. Your most
+obedient, Mr. Maltravers;--how we shall laugh in our sleeves at the
+humbug of politics, when you and I, the best friends in the world, sit
+_vis-a-vis_ on opposite benches. But why, Lady Florence, have you never
+introduced me to your pet Italian? _Allons_! I am his match in Alfieri,
+whom, of course, he swears by, and whose verses, by the way, seem cut
+out of box-wood--the hardest material for turning off that sort of
+machinery that invention ever hit on."
+
+Thus saying, Ferrers contrived, as he thought, very cleverly, to divide
+a pair that he much feared were justly formed to meet by nature--and, to
+his great joy, Maltravers shortly afterwards withdrew.
+
+Ferrers, with the happy ease that belonged to his complacent, though
+plotting character, soon made Cesarini at home with him; and two or
+three slighting expressions which the former dropped with respect to
+Maltravers, coupled with some outrageous compliments to the Italian,
+completely won the heart of the poet. The brilliant Florence was more
+silent and subdued than usual; and her voice was softer, though graver,
+when she replied to Castruccio's eloquent appeals. Castruccio was one of
+those men who _talk fine_. By degrees, Lumley lapsed into silence, and
+listened to what took place between Lady Florence and the Italian,
+while appearing to be deep in "The Views of the Rhine," which lay on the
+table.
+
+"Ah," said the latter, in his soft native tongue, "could you know how
+I watch every shade of that countenance which makes my heaven! Is it
+clouded? night is with me!--is it radiant? I am as the Persian gazing on
+the sun!"
+
+"Why do you speak thus to me? were you not a poet, I might be angry."
+
+"You were not angry when the English poet, that cold Maltravers, spoke
+to you perhaps as boldly."
+
+Lady Florence drew up her haughty head. "Signor," said she, checking,
+however, her first impulse, and with mildness, "Mr. Maltravers neither
+flatters nor--"
+
+"Presumes, you were about to say," said Cesarini, grinding his teeth.
+"But it is well--once you were less chilling to the utterance of my deep
+devotion."
+
+"Never, Signor Cesarini, never--but when I thought it was but the common
+gallantry of your nation: let me think so still."
+
+"No, proud woman," said Cesarini, fiercely, "no--hear the truth."
+
+Lady Florence rose indignantly.
+
+"Hear me," he continued. "I--I, the poor foreigner, the despised
+minstrel, dare to lift up my eyes to you! I love you!"
+
+Never had Florence Lascelles been so humiliated and confounded. However
+she might have amused herself with the vanity of Cesarini, she had not
+given him, as she thought, the warrant to address her--the great Lady
+Florence, the prize of dukes and princes--in this hardy manner; she
+almost fancied him insane. But the next moment she recalled the warning
+of Maltravers, and felt as if her punishment had commenced.
+
+"You will think and speak more calmly, sir, when we meet again," and so
+saying, she swept away.
+
+Cesarini remained rooted to the spot, with his dark countenance
+expressing such passions as are rarely seen in the aspects of civilised
+men.
+
+"Where do you lodge, Signor Cesarini?" asked the bland, familiar voice
+of Ferrers. "Let us walk part of the way together--that is, when you are
+tired of these hot rooms."
+
+Cesarini groaned. "You are ill," continued Ferrers; "the air will
+revive you--come." He glided from the room, and the Italian mechanically
+followed him. They walked together for some moments in silence, side
+by side, in a clear, lovely, moonlight night. At length Ferrers said,
+"Pardon me, my dear signor, but you may already have observed that I am
+a very frank, odd sort of fellow. I see you are caught by the charms of
+my cruel cousin. Can I serve you in any way?"
+
+A man at all acquainted with the world in which we live would have been
+suspicious of such cordiality in the cousin of an heiress, towards a
+very unsuitable aspirant. But Cesarini, like many indifferent poets (but
+like few good ones), had no common sense. He thought it quite natural
+that a man who admired his poetry so much as Lumley had declared he did,
+should take a lively interest in his welfare; and he therefore replied
+warmly, "Oh, sir, this is indeed a crushing blow: I dreamed she loved
+me. She was ever flattering and gentle when she spoke to me, and in
+verse already I had told her of my love, and met with no rebuke."
+
+"Did your verses really and plainly declare love, and in your own
+person?"
+
+"Why, the sentiment was veiled, perhaps--put into the mouth of a
+fictitious character, or conveyed in an allegory."
+
+"Oh," ejaculated Ferrers, thinking it very likely that the gorgeous
+Florence, hymned by a thousand bards, had done little more than cast a
+glance over the lines that had cost poor Cesarini such anxious toil,
+and inspired him with such daring hope. "Oh!--and to-night she was more
+severe--she is a terrible coquette, _la belle Florence_! But perhaps you
+have a rival."
+
+"I feel it--I saw it--I know it."
+
+"Whom do you suspect?"
+
+"That accursed Maltravers! He crosses me in every path--my spirit quails
+beneath his whenever we encounter. I read my doom."
+
+"If it be Maltravers," said Ferrers, gravely, "the danger cannot be
+great. Florence has seen but little of him, and he does not admire
+her much; but she is a great match, and he is ambitious. We must guard
+against this betimes, Cesarini--for know that I dislike Maltravers as
+much as you do, and will cheerfully aid you in any plan to blight his
+hopes in that quarter."
+
+"Generous, noble friend!--yet he is richer, better-born than I."
+
+"That may be: but to one in Lady Florence's position, all minor grades
+of rank in her aspirants seem pretty well levelled. Come, I don't tell
+you that I would not sooner she married a countryman and an equal--but
+I have taken a liking to you, and I detest Maltravers. She is very
+romantic--fond of poetry to a passion--writes it herself, I fancy. Oh,
+you'll just suit her; but, alas! how will you see her?"
+
+"See her! What mean you?"
+
+"Why, have you not declared love to-night? I thought I overheard you.
+Can you for a moment fancy that, after such an avowal, Lady Florence
+will again receive you--that is, if she mean to reject your suit?"
+
+"Fool that I was! But no--she must, she shall."
+
+"Be persuaded; in this country violence will not do. Take my advice,
+write an humble apology, confess your fault, invoke her pity; and,
+declaring that you renounce for ever the character of a lover, implore
+still to be acknowledged as a friend. Be quiet now, hear me out; I am
+older than you; I know my cousin; this will pique her; your modesty will
+soothe, while your coldness will arouse, her vanity. Meanwhile you will
+watch the progress of Maltravers; I will be by your elbow; and between
+us, to use a homely phrase, we will do for him. Then you may have your
+opportunity, clear stage, and fair play."
+
+Cesarini was at first rebellious; but, at length, even he saw the
+policy of the advice. But Lumley would not leave him till the advice was
+adopted. He made Castruccio accompany him to a club, dictated the letter
+to Florence, and undertook its charge. This was not all.
+
+"It is also necessary," said Lumley, after a short but thoughtful
+silence, "that you should write to Maltravers."
+
+"And for what?"
+
+"I have my reasons. Ask him, in a frank and friendly spirit, his opinion
+of Lady Florence; state your belief that she loves you, and inquire
+ingenuously what he thinks your chances of happiness in such a union."
+
+"But why this?"
+
+"His answer may be useful," returned Lumley, musingly. "Stay, I will
+dictate the letter."
+
+Cesarini wondered and hesitated, but there was that about Lumley Ferrers
+which had already obtained command over the weak and passionate poet.
+He wrote, therefore, as Lumley dictated, beginning with some commonplace
+doubts as to the happiness of marriage in general, excusing himself for
+his recent coldness towards Maltravers, and asking him his confidential
+opinion both as to Lady Florence's character and his own chances of
+success.
+
+This letter, like the former one, Lumley sealed and despatched.
+
+"You perceive," he then said, briefly, to Cesarini, "that it is the
+object of this letter to entrap Maltravers into some plain and honest
+avowal of his dislike to Lady Florence; we may make good use of such
+expressions hereafter, if he should ever prove a rival. And now go home
+to rest: you look exhausted. Adieu, my new friend."
+
+"I have long had a presentiment," said Lumley to his councillor SELF, as
+he walked to Great George Street, "that that wild girl has conceived a
+romantic fancy for Maltravers. But I can easily prevent such an accident
+ripening into misfortune. Meanwhile, I have secured a tool, if I want
+one. By Jove, what an ass that poet is! But so was Cassio; yet Iago made
+use of him. If Iago had been born now, and dropped that foolish fancy
+for revenge, what a glorious fellow he would have been! Prime minister
+at least!"
+
+Pale, haggard, exhausted, Castruccio Cesarini, traversing a length of
+way, arrived at last at a miserable lodging in the suburb of Chelsea.
+His fortune was now gone; gone in supplying the poorest food to a
+craving and imbecile vanity: gone, that its owner might seem what nature
+never meant him for: the elegant Lothario, the graceful man of pleasure,
+the troubadour of modern life! gone in horses, and jewels, and fine
+clothes, and gaming, and printing unsaleable poems on gilt-edged vellum;
+gone, that he might not be a greater but a more fashionable man than
+Ernest Maltravers! Such is the common destiny of those poor adventurers
+who confine fame to boudoirs and saloons. No matter whether they be
+poets or dandies, wealthy _parvenus_ or aristocratic cadets, all equally
+prove the adage that the wrong paths to reputation are strewed with the
+wrecks of peace, fortune, happiness, and too often honour! And yet this
+poor young man had dared to hope for the hand of Florence Lascelles! He
+had the common notion of foreigners, that English girls marry for
+love, are very romantic; that, within the three seas, heiresses are
+as plentiful as blackberries; and for the rest, his vanity had been
+so pampered, that it now insinuated itself into every fibre of his
+intellectual and moral system.
+
+Cesarini looked cautiously round, as he arrived at his door; for he
+fancied that, even in that obscure place, persons might be anxious to
+catch a glimpse of the celebrated poet; and he concealed his residence
+from all; dined on a roll when he did not dine out, and left his address
+at "The Travellers." He looked round, I say, and he did observe a tall
+figure wrapped in a cloak that had indeed followed him from a distant
+and more populous part of the town. But the figure turned round, and
+vanished instantly. Cesarini mounted to his second floor. And about the
+middle of the next day a messenger left a letter at his door, containing
+one hundred pounds in a blank envelope. Cesarini knew not the writing of
+the address; his pride was deeply wounded. Amidst all his penury, he
+had not even applied to his own sister. Could it come from her, from De
+Montaigne? He was lost in conjecture. He put the remittance aside for
+a few days; for he had something fine in him, the poor poet! but bills
+grew pressing, and necessity hath no law.
+
+Two days afterwards, Cesarini brought to Ferrers the answer he had
+received from Maltravers. Lumley had rightly foreseen that the high
+spirit of Ernest would conceive some indignation at the coquetry of
+Florence in beguiling the Italian into hopes never to be realised, and
+that he would express himself openly and warmly. He did so, however,
+with more gentleness than Lumley had anticipated.
+
+"This is not exactly the thing," said Ferrers, after twice reading the
+letter; "still it may hereafter be a strong card in our hands--we will
+keep it."
+
+So saying, he locked the letter up in his desk, and Cesarini soon forgot
+its existence.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+ "She was a phantom of delight,
+  When first she gleamed upon my sight:
+  A lovely apparition sent
+  To be a moment's ornament."--WORDSWORTH.
+
+MALTRAVERS did not see Lady Florence again for some weeks; meanwhile,
+Lumley Ferrers made his _debut_ in parliament. Rigidly adhering to
+his plan of acting on a deliberate system, and not prone to overrate
+himself, Mr. Ferrers did not, like most promising new members, try
+the hazardous ordeal of a great first speech. Though bold, fluent, and
+ready, he was not eloquent; and he knew that on great occasions,
+when great speeches are wanted, great guns like to have the fire to
+themselves. Neither did he split upon the opposite rock of "promising
+young men," who stick to "the business of the house" like leeches, and
+quibble on details; in return for which labour they are generally voted
+bores, who can never do anything remarkable. But he spoke frequently,
+shortly, courageously, and with a strong dash of good-humoured
+personality. He was the man whom a minister could get to say something
+which other people did not like to say: and he did so with a frank
+fearlessness that carried off any seeming violation of good taste.
+He soon became a very popular speaker in the parliamentary clique;
+especially with the gentlemen who crowd the bar, and never want to
+hear the argument of the debate. Between him and Maltravers a visible
+coldness now existed; for the latter looked upon his old friend (whose
+principles of logic led him even to republicanism, and who had been
+accustomed to accuse Ernest of temporising with plain truths, if he
+demurred to their application to artificial states of society) as a
+cold-blooded and hypocritical adventurer; while Ferrers, seeing that
+Ernest could now be of no further use to him, was willing enough to
+drop a profitless intimacy. Nay, he thought it would be wise to pick a
+quarrel with him, if possible, as the best means of banishing a supposed
+rival from the house of his noble relation, Lord Saxingham. But no
+opportunity for that step presented itself; so Lumley kept a fit of
+convenient rudeness, or an impromptu sarcasm, in reserve, if ever it
+should be wanted.
+
+The season and the session were alike drawing to a close, when
+Maltravers received a pressing invitation from Cleveland to spend a week
+at his villa, which he assured Ernest would be full of agreeable
+people; and as all business productive of debate or division was
+over, Maltravers was glad to obtain fresh air, and a change of scene.
+Accordingly, he sent down his luggage and favourite books, and one
+afternoon in early August rode alone towards Temple Grove. He was much
+dissatisfied, perhaps disappointed, with his experience of public life;
+and with his high-wrought and over-refining views of the deficiencies
+of others more prominent, he was in a humour to mingle also censure of
+himself, for having yielded too much to the doubts and scruples that
+often, in the early part of their career, beset the honest and sincere,
+in the turbulent whirl of politics, and ever tend to make the robust
+hues that should belong to action
+
+   "Sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought."
+
+His mind was working its way slowly towards those conclusions,
+which sometimes ripen the best practical men out of the most exalted
+theorists, and perhaps he saw before him the pleasing prospect
+flatteringly exhibited to another, when he complained of being too
+honest for party, viz., "of becoming a very pretty rascal in time!"
+
+For several weeks he had not heard from his unknown correspondent, and
+the time was come when he missed those letters, now continued for more
+than two years; and which, in their eloquent mixture of complaint,
+exhortation, despondent gloom and declamatory enthusiasm, had often
+soothed him in dejection, and made him more sensible of triumph. While
+revolving in his mind thoughts connected with these subjects--and,
+somehow or other, with his more ambitious reveries were always mingled
+musings of curiosity respecting his correspondent--he was struck by the
+beauty of a little girl, of about eleven years old, who was walking with
+a female attendant on the footpath that skirted the road. I said that he
+was struck by her beauty, but that is a wrong expression; it was rather
+the charm of her countenance than the perfection of her features which
+arrested the gaze of Maltravers--a charm that might not have existed for
+others, but was inexpressibly attractive to him, and was so much apart
+from the vulgar fascination of mere beauty, that it would have equally
+touched a chord at his heart, if coupled with homely features or a
+bloomless cheek. This charm was in a wonderful innocent and dove-like
+softness of expression. We all form to ourselves some _beau-ideal_ of
+the "fair spirit" we desire as our earthly "minister," and somewhat
+capriciously gauge and proportion our admiration of living shapes
+according as the _beau-ideal_ is more or less embodied or approached.
+Beauty, of a stamp that is not familiar to the dreams of our fancy,
+may win the cold homage of our judgment, while a look, a feature, a
+something that realises and calls up a boyish vision, and assimilates
+even distantly to the picture we wear within us, has a loveliness
+peculiar to our eyes, and kindles an emotion that almost seems to
+belong to memory. It is this which the Platonists felt when they wildly
+supposed that souls attracted to each other on earth had been united in
+an earlier being and a diviner sphere; and there was in the young
+face on which Ernest gazed precisely this ineffable harmony with his
+preconceived notions of the beautiful. Many a nightly and noonday
+reverie was realised in those mild yet smiling eyes of the darkest blue;
+in that ingenuous breadth of brow, with its slightly-pencilled arches,
+and the nose, not cut in that sharp and clear symmetry which looks so
+lovely in marble, but usually gives to flesh and blood a decided
+and hard character, that better becomes the sterner than the gentler
+sex--no; not moulded in the pure Grecian, nor in the pure Roman, cast;
+but small, delicate, with the least possible inclination to turn upward,
+that was only to be detected in one position of the head, and served
+to give a prettier archness to the sweet flexile lips, which, from the
+gentleness of their repose, seemed to smile unconsciously, but rather
+from a happy constitutional serenity than from the giddiness of mirth.
+Such was the character of this fair child's countenance, on which
+Maltravers turned and gazed involuntarily and reverently, with something
+of the admiring delight with which we look upon the Virgin of a Rafaele,
+or the sunset landscape of a Claude. The girl did not appear to feel
+any premature coquetry at the evident, though respectful admiration she
+excited. She met the eyes bent upon her, brilliant and eloquent as they
+were, with a fearless and unsuspecting gaze, and pointed out to her
+companion, with all a child's quick and unrestrained impulse, the
+shining and raven gloss, the arched and haughty neck, of Ernest's
+beautiful Arabian.
+
+Now there happened between Maltravers and the young object of his
+admiration a little adventure, which served, perhaps, to fix in her
+recollection this short encounter with a stranger; for certain it
+is that, years after, she did remember both the circumstances of the
+adventure and the features of Maltravers. She wore one of those large
+straw-hats which look so pretty upon children, and the warmth of the day
+made her untie the strings which confined it. A gentle breeze arose, as
+by a turn in the road the country became more open, and suddenly wafted
+the hat from its proper post, almost to the hoofs of Ernest's horse. The
+child naturally made a spring forward to arrest the deserter, and her
+foot slipped down the bank, which was rather steeply raised above
+the road. She uttered a low cry of pain. To dismount--to regain the
+prize--and to restore it to its owner, was, with Ernest, the work of
+a moment; the poor girl had twisted her ankle and was leaning upon her
+servant for support. But when she saw the anxiety, and almost the alarm,
+upon the stranger's face (and her exclamation of pain had literally
+thrilled his heart--so much and so unaccountably had she excited his
+interest), she made an effort at self-control, not common at her years,
+and, with a forced smile, assured him she was not much hurt--that it was
+nothing--that she was just at home.
+
+"Oh, miss!" said the servant, "I am sure you are very bad. Dear heart,
+how angry master will be! It was not my fault; was it, sir?"
+
+"Oh, no, it was not your fault, Margaret; don't be frightened--papa
+sha'n't blame you. But I'm much better now." So saying, she tried to
+walk; but the effort was in vain--she turned yet more pale, and though
+she struggled to prevent a shriek, the tears rolled down her cheeks.
+
+It was very odd, but Maltravers had never felt more touched--the tears
+stood in his own eyes; he longed to carry her in his arms, but, child
+as she was, a strange kind of nervous timidity forbade him. Margaret,
+perhaps, expected it of him, for she looked hard in his face, before she
+attempted a burthen to which, being a small, slight person, she was by
+no means equal. However, after a pause, she took up her charge, who,
+ashamed of her tears, and almost overcome with pain, nestled her head in
+the woman's bosom, and Maltravers walked by her side, while his docile
+and well-trained horse followed at a distance, every now and then
+putting its fore-legs on the bank and cropping away a mouthful of leaves
+from the hedge-row.
+
+"Oh, Margaret!" said the little sufferer, "I cannot bear it--indeed I
+cannot."
+
+And Maltravers observed that Margaret had permitted the lame foot to
+hang down unsupported, so that the pain must indeed have been scarcely
+bearable. He could restrain himself no longer.
+
+"You are not strong enough to carry her," said he, sharply, to the
+servant; and the next moment the child was in his arms. Oh, with what
+anxious tenderness he bore her! and he was so happy when she turned her
+face to him and smiled, and told him she now scarcely felt the pain.
+If it were possible to be in love with a child of eleven years old,
+Maltravers was almost in love. His pulses trembled as he felt her pure
+breath on his cheek, and her rich beautiful hair was waved by the breeze
+across his lips. He hushed his voice to a whisper as he poured forth all
+the soothing and comforting expressions which give a natural eloquence
+to persons fond of children--and Ernest Maltravers was the idol of
+children;--he understood and sympathised with them; he had a great
+deal of the child himself, beneath the rough and cold husk of his proud
+reserve. At length they came to a lodge, and Margaret eagerly inquiring
+"whether master and missus were at home," seemed delighted to hear they
+were not. Ernest, however, insisted on bearing his charge across the
+lawn to the house, which, like most suburban villas, was but a stone's
+throw from the lodge; and, receiving the most positive promise that
+surgical advice should be immediately sent for, he was forced to content
+himself with laying the sufferer on a sofa in the drawing-room; and she
+thanked him so prettily, and assured him she was so much easier, that
+he would have given the world to kiss her. The child had completed her
+conquest over him by being above the child's ordinary littleness of
+making the worst of things, in order to obtain the consequence and
+dignity of being pitied;--she was evidently unselfish and considerate
+for others. He did kiss her, but it was the hand that he kissed, and no
+cavalier ever kissed his lady's hand with more respect; and then, for
+the first time, the child blushed--then, for the first time, she felt
+as if the day would come when she should be a child no longer! Why
+was this?--perhaps because it is an era in life--the first sign of a
+tenderness that inspires respect, not familiarity!
+
+"If ever again I could be in love," said Maltravers, as he spurred on
+his road, "I really think it would be with that exquisite child. My
+feeling is more like that of love at first sight than any emotion which
+beauty ever caused in me. Alice--Valerie--no; the _first_ sight of them
+did not:--but what folly is this--a child of eleven--and I verging upon
+thirty!"
+
+Still, however, folly as it might be, the image of that young girl
+haunted Maltravers for many days; till change of scene, the distractions
+of society, the grave thoughts of manhood, and, above all, a series of
+exciting circumstances about to be narrated, gradually obliterated a
+strange and most delightful impression. He had learned, however, that
+Mr. Templeton was the proprietor of the villa, which was the child's
+home. He wrote to Ferrers to narrate the incident, and to inquire after
+the sufferer. In due time he heard from that gentleman that the child
+was recovered, and gone with Mr. and Mrs. Templeton to Brighton, for
+change of air and sea-bathing.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK VIII.
+
+ Whither come Wisdom's queen
+ And the snare-weaving Love?
+     EURIP. _Iphig. in Aul._ I. 1310.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ "Notitiam primosque gradus vicinia fecit."*--OVID.
+
+* Neighbourhood caused the acquaintance and first introduction.
+
+CLEVELAND'S villa _was_ full, and of persons usually called agreeable.
+Amongst the rest was Lady Florence Lascelles. The wise old man had ever
+counselled Maltravers not to marry too young; but neither did he wish
+him to put off that momentous epoch of life till all the bloom of heart
+and emotion was passed away. He thought, with the old lawgivers, that
+thirty was the happy age for forming a connection, in the choice of
+which, with the reason of manhood, ought, perhaps, to be blended
+the passion of youth. And he saw that few men were more capable than
+Maltravers of the true enjoyments of domestic life. He had long thought,
+also, that none were more calculated to sympathise with Ernest's views,
+and appreciate his peculiar character, than the gifted and brilliant
+Florence Lascelles. Cleveland looked with toleration on her many
+eccentricities of thought and conduct,--eccentricities which he imagined
+would rapidly melt away beneath the influence of that attachment which
+usually operates so great a change in women; and, where it is strongly
+and intensely felt, moulds even those of the most obstinate character
+into compliance or similitude with the sentiments or habits of its
+object.
+
+The stately self-control of Maltravers was, he conceived, precisely that
+quality that gives to men an unconscious command over the very thoughts
+of the woman whose affection they win: while, on the other hand, he
+hoped that the fancy and enthusiasm of Florence would tend to render
+sharper and more practical an ambition, which seemed to the sober man
+of the world too apt to refine upon the means, and to _cui bono_
+the objects of worldly distinction. Besides, Cleveland was one who
+thoroughly appreciated the advantages of wealth and station; and the
+rank and the dower of Florence were such as would force Maltravers into
+a position in social life, which could not fail to make new exactions
+upon talents which Cleveland fancied were precisely those adapted rather
+to command than to serve. In Ferrers he recognised a man to _get_ into
+power--in Maltravers one by whom power, if ever attained, would be
+wielded with dignity, and exerted for great uses. Something, therefore,
+higher than mere covetousness for the vulgar interests of Maltravers
+made Cleveland desire to secure to him the heart and hand of the great
+heiress; and he fancied that, whatever might be the obstacle, it would
+not be in the will of Lady Florence herself. He prudently resolved,
+however, to leave matters to their natural course. He hinted nothing
+to one party or the other. No place for falling in love like a large
+country house, and no time for it, amongst the indolent well-born, like
+the close of a London season, when, jaded by small cares, and sickened
+of hollow intimacies, even the coldest may well yearn for the tones of
+affection--the excitement of an honest emotion.
+
+Somehow or other it happened that Florence and Ernest, after the first
+day or two, were constantly thrown together. She rode on horseback, and
+Maltravers was by her side--they made excursions on the river, and they
+sat on the same bench in the gliding pleasure-boat. In the evenings, the
+younger guests, with the assistance of the neighbouring families, often
+got up a dance in a temporary pavilion built out of the dining-room.
+Ernest never danced. Florence did at first. But once, as she was
+conversing with Maltravers, when a gay guardsman came to claim her
+promised hand in the waltz, she seemed struck by a grave change in
+Ernest's face.
+
+"Do you never waltz?" she asked, while the guardsman was searching for a
+corner wherein safely to deposit his hat.
+
+"No," said he; "yet there is no impropriety in _my_ waltzing."
+
+"And you mean that there is in mine?"
+
+"Pardon me--I did not say so."
+
+"But you think it."
+
+"Nay, on consideration, I am glad, perhaps, that you do waltz."
+
+"You are mysterious."
+
+"Well then, I mean, that you are precisely the woman I would never fall
+in love with. And I feel the danger is lessened, when I see you destroy
+any one of my illusions, or, I ought to say, attack any one of my
+prejudices."
+
+Lady Florence coloured; but the guardsman and the music left her no
+time for reply. However, after that night she waltzed no more. She was
+unwell--she declared she was ordered not to dance, and so quadrilles
+were relinquished as well as the waltz.
+
+Maltravers could not but be touched and flattered by this regard for
+his opinion; but Florence contrived to testify it so as to forbid
+acknowledgment, since another motive had been found for it. The second
+evening after that commemorated by Ernest's candid rudeness, they
+chanced to meet in the conservatory, which was connected with the
+ball-room; and Ernest, pausing to inquire after her health, was struck
+by the listless and dejected sadness which spoke in her tone and
+countenance as she replied to him.
+
+"Dear Lady Florence," said he, "I fear you are worse than you will
+confess. You should shun these draughts. You owe it to your friends to
+be more careful of yourself."
+
+"Friends!" said Lady Florence, bitterly--"I have no friends!--even my
+poor father would not absent himself from a cabinet dinner a week
+after I was dead. But that is the condition of public life--its hot
+and searing blaze puts out the lights of all lesser but not unholier
+affections.--Friends! Fate, that made Florence Lascelles the envied
+heiress, denied her brothers, sisters; and the hour of her birth lost
+her even the love of a mother! Friends! where shall I find them?"
+
+As she ceased, she turned to the open casement, and stepped out into
+the verandah, and by the trembling of her voice Ernest felt that she had
+done so to hide or to suppress her tears.
+
+"Yet," said he, following her, "there is one class of more distant
+friends, whose interest Lady Florence Lascelles cannot fail to secure,
+however she may disdain it. Among the humblest of that class, suffer me
+to rank myself. Come, I assume the privilege of advice--the night air is
+a luxury you must not indulge."
+
+"No, no, it refreshes me--it soothes. You misunderstand me, I have no
+illness that still skies and sleeping flowers can increase."
+
+Maltravers, as is evident, was not in love with Florence, but he could
+not fail, brought, as he had lately been, under the direct influence
+of her rare and prodigal gifts, mental and personal, to feel for her a
+strong and even affectionate interest--the very frankness with which he
+was accustomed to speak to her, and the many links of communion there
+necessarily were between himself and a mind so naturally powerful and
+so richly cultivated, had already established their acquaintance upon an
+intimate footing.
+
+"I cannot restrain you, Lady Florence," said he, half smiling, "but
+my conscience will not let me be an accomplice. I will turn king's
+evidence, and hunt out Lord Saxingham to send him to you."
+
+Lady Florence, whose face was averted from his, did not appear to hear
+him.
+
+"And you, Mr. Maltravers," turning quickly round--"you--have you
+friends? Do you feel that there are, I do not say public, but private
+affections and duties, for which life is made less a possession than a
+trust?"
+
+"Lady Florence--no!--I have friends, it is true, and Cleveland is of the
+nearest; but the life within life--the second self, in whom we vest
+the right and mastery over our own being--I know it not. But is it," he
+added, after a pause, "a rare privation? Perhaps it is a happy one.
+I have learned to lean on my own soul, and not look elsewhere for the
+reeds that a wind can break."
+
+"Ah, it is a cold philosophy--you may reconcile yourself to its wisdom
+in the world, in the hum and shock of men; but in solitude, with
+Nature--ah, no! While the mind alone is occupied, you may be contented
+with the pride of stoicism; but there are moments when the _heart_
+wakens as from a sleep--wakens like a frightened child--to feel itself
+alone and in the dark."
+
+Ernest was silent, and Florence continued, in an altered voice: "This
+is a strange conversation--and you must think me indeed a wild,
+romance-reading person, as the world is apt to call me. But if I
+live--I--pshaw!--life denies ambition to women."
+
+"If a woman like you, Lady Florence, should ever love, it will be one
+in whose career you may perhaps find that noblest of all ambitions--the
+ambition women only feel--the ambition for another!"
+
+"Ah! but I shall never love," said Lady Florence, and her cheek grew
+pale as the starlight shone on it; "still, perhaps," she added quickly,
+"I may at least know the blessing of friendship. Why now," and here,
+approaching Maltravers, she laid her hand with a winning frankness on
+his arm--"why now, should not we be to each other as if love, as
+you call it, were not a thing for earth--and friendship supplied its
+place?--there is no danger of our falling in love with each other! You
+are not vain enough to expect it in me, and I, you know, am a coquette;
+let us be friends, confidants--at least till you marry, or I give
+another the right to control my friendships and monopolise my secrets."
+
+Maltravers was startled--the sentiment Florence addressed to him, he, in
+words not dissimilar, had once addressed to Valerie.
+
+"The world," said he, kissing the hand that yet lay on his arm, "the
+world will--"
+
+"Oh, you men!--the world, the world!--Everything gentle, everything
+pure, everything noble, high-wrought and holy--is to be squared, and
+cribbed, and maimed to the rule and measure of the world! The world--are
+you, too, its slave? Do you not despise its hollow cant--its methodical
+hypocrisy?"
+
+"Heartily!" said Ernest Maltravers, almost with fierceness. "No man ever
+so scorned its false gods and its miserable creeds--its war upon the
+weak--its fawning upon the great--its ingratitude to benefactors--its
+sordid league with mediocrity against excellence. Yes, in proportion as
+I love mankind, I despise and detest that worse than Venetian oligarchy
+which mankind set over them and call 'THE WORLD.'"
+
+And then it was, warmed by the excitement of released feelings, long
+and carefully shrouded, that this man, ordinarily so calm and
+self-possessed, poured burningly and passionately forth all those
+tumultuous and almost tremendous thoughts, which, however much we may
+regulate, control, or disguise them, lurk deep within the souls of all
+of us, the seeds of the eternal war between the natural man and
+the artificial; between our wilder genius and our social
+conventionalities;--thoughts that from time to time break forth into the
+harbingers of vain and fruitless revolutions, impotent struggles against
+destiny;--thoughts that good and wise men would be slow to promulge and
+propagate, for they are of a fire which burns as well as brightens,
+and which spreads from heart to heart--as a spark spreads amidst
+flax;--thoughts which are rifest where natures are most high, but belong
+to truths that virtue dare not tell aloud. And as Maltravers spoke, with
+his eyes flashing almost intolerable light--his breast heaving, his form
+dilated, never to the eyes of Florence Lascelles did he seem so great:
+the chains that bound the strong limbs of his spirit seemed snapped
+asunder, and all his soul was visible and towering, as a thing that has
+escaped slavery, and lifts its crest to heaven, and feels that it is
+free.
+
+That evening saw a new bond of alliance between these two
+persons,--young, handsome, and of opposite sexes, they agreed to be
+friends, and nothing more. Fools!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+ "Idem velle, et idem nolle, ea demum firma amicitia est."*
+        SALLUST.
+
+*To will the same thing and not to will the same thing, that at length
+is firm friendship.
+
+ "_Carlos._ That letter.
+  _Princess Eboli._ Oh, I shall die. Return it instantly."
+        SCHILLER: _Don Carlos_.
+
+IT seemed as if the compact Maltravers and Lady Florence had entered
+into removed whatever embarrassment and reserve had previously existed.
+They now conversed with an ease and freedom not common in persons of
+different sexes before they have passed their grand climacteric. Ernest,
+in ordinary life, like most men of warm emotions and strong imagination,
+if not taciturn, was at least guarded. It was as if a weight were taken
+from his breast, when he found one person who could understand him best
+when he was most candid. His eloquence--his poetry--his intense and
+concentrated enthusiasm found a voice. He could talk to an individual
+as he would have written to the public--a rare happiness to the men of
+books.
+
+Florence seemed to recover her health and spirits as by a miracle; yet
+she was more gentle, more subdued, than of old--there was less effort
+to shine, less indifference whether she shocked. Persons who had not
+met her before, wondered why she was dreaded in society. But at times a
+great natural irritability of temper--a quick suspicion of the motives
+of those around her--an imperious and obstinate vehemence of will, were
+visible to Maltravers, and served, perhaps, to keep him heart-whole.
+He regarded her through the eyes of the intellect, not those of the
+passions--he thought not of her as a woman--her very talents, her very
+grandeur of idea and power of purpose, while they delighted him in
+conversation, diverted his imagination from dwelling on her beauty.
+He looked on her as something apart from her sex;--a glorious creature
+spoilt by being a woman. He once told her so, laughing, and Florence
+considered it a compliment. Poor Florence, her scorn of her sex avenged
+her sex, and robbed her of her proper destiny!
+
+Cleveland silently observed their intimacy, and listened with a quiet
+smile to the gossips who pointed out _tetes-a-tetes_ by the terrace, and
+loiterings by the lawn, and predicted what would come of it all. Lord
+Saxingham was blind. But his daughter was of age, in possession of her
+princely fortune, and had long made him sensible of her independence of
+temper. His lordship, however, thoroughly misunderstood the character of
+her pride, and felt fully convinced she would marry no one less than
+a duke; as for flirtations, he thought them natural and innocent
+amusements. Besides, he was very little at Temple Grove. He went to
+London every morning, after breakfasting in his own room--came back to
+dine, play at whist, and talk good-humoured nonsense to Florence in his
+dressing-room, for the three minutes that took place between his sipping
+his wine-and-water and the appearance of his valet. As for the other
+guests, it was not their business to do more than gossip with each
+other; and so Florence and Maltravers went on their way unmolested,
+though not unobserved. Maltravers, not being himself in love, never
+fancied that Lady Florence loved him, or that she would be in any danger
+of doing so. This is a mistake a man often commits--a woman never. A
+woman always knows when she is loved, though she often imagines she is
+loved when she is not. Florence was not happy, for happiness is a calm
+feeling. But she was excited with a vague, wild, intoxicating emotion.
+
+She had learned from Maltravers that she had been misinformed by
+Ferrers, and that no other claimed empire over his heart; and whether or
+not he loved her, still for the present they seemed all in all to each
+other; she lived but for the present day, she would not think of the
+morrow.
+
+Since that severe illness which had tended so much to alter Ernest's
+mode of life, he had not come before the public as an author. Latterly,
+however, the old habit had broken out again. With the comparative
+idleness of recent years, the ideas and feelings which crowd so fast on
+the poetical temperament, once indulged, had accumulated within him to
+an excess that demanded vent. For with some, to write is not a vague
+desire, but an imperious destiny. The fire is kindled and must break
+forth; the wings are fledged, and the birds must leave their nest. The
+communication of thought to man is implanted as an instinct in those
+breasts to which Heaven has intrusted the solemn agencies of genius.
+In the work which Maltravers now composed he consulted Florence: his
+confidence delighted her--it was a compliment she could appreciate.
+Wild, fervid, impassioned, was that work--a brief and holiday
+creation--the youngest and most beloved of the children of his brain.
+And as day by day the bright design grew into shape, and thought and
+imagination found themselves "local habitations," Florence felt as if
+she were admitted into the palace of the genii, and made acquainted with
+the mechanism of those spells and charms with which the preternatural
+powers of mind design the witchery of the world. Ah, how different in
+depth and majesty were those intercommunications of idea between Ernest
+Maltravers and a woman scarcely inferior to himself in capacity and
+acquirement, from that bridge of shadowy and dim sympathies which the
+enthusiastic boy had once built up between his own poetry of knowledge
+and Alice's poetry of love!
+
+It was one late afternoon in September, when the sun was slowly going
+down its western way, that Lady Florence, who had been all that
+morning in her own room, paying off, as she said, the dull arrears of
+correspondence, rather on Lord Saxingham's account than her own; for he
+punctiliously exacted from her the most scrupulous attention to cousins
+fifty times removed, provided they were rich, clever, well off, or in
+any way of consequence:--it was one afternoon that, relieved from these
+avocations, Lady Florence strolled through the grounds with Cleveland.
+The gentlemen were still in the stubble-fields, the ladies were out in
+barouches and pony phaetons, and Cleveland and Lady Florence were alone.
+
+Apropos of Florence's epistolary employment, their conversation fell
+upon that most charming species of literature, which joins with the
+interest of a novel the truth of a history--the French memoir and
+letter-writers. It was a part of literature in which Cleveland was
+thoroughly at home.
+
+"Those agreeable and polished gossips," said he, "how well they
+contrived to introduce nature into art! Everything artificial seemed so
+natural to them. They even feel by a kind of clockwork, which seems to
+go better than the heart itself. Those pretty sentiments, those delicate
+gallantries, of Madame de Sevigne to her daughter, how amiable they are;
+but, somehow or other, I can never fancy them the least motherly. What
+an ending for a maternal epistle is that elegant compliment--'Songez
+que de tons les coeurs ou vous regnez, il n'y en a aucun ou votre
+empire soit si bien etabli que dans le mien.'* I can scarcely fancy Lord
+Saxingham writing so to you, Lady Florence."
+
+* Think that of all the hearts over which you reign, there is not one in
+which your empire can be so well established as in mine.
+
+"No, indeed," replied Lady Florence, smiling. "Neither papas nor
+mammas in England are much addicted to compliment; but I confess I
+like preserving a sort of gallantry even in our most familiar
+connections--why should we not carry the imagination into all the
+affections?"
+
+"I can scarce answer the why," returned Cleveland; "but I think it would
+destroy the reality. I am rather of the old school. If I had a daughter,
+and asked her to get my slippers, I am afraid I should think it a little
+wearisome if I had, in receiving them, to make _des belles phrases_ in
+return."
+
+While they were thus talking, and Lady Florence continued to press her
+side of the question, they passed through a little grove that conducted
+to an arm of the stream which ornamented the grounds, and by its quiet
+and shadowy gloom was meant to give a contrast to the livelier features
+of the domain. Here they came suddenly upon Maltravers. He was walking
+by the side of the brook, and evidently absorbed in thought.
+
+It was the trembling of Lady Florence's hand as it lay on Cleveland's
+arm, that induced him to stop short in an animated commentary on
+Rochefoucauld's character of Cardinal de Retz, and look round.
+
+"Ha, most meditative Jacques!" said he; "and what new moral hast thou
+been conning in our Forest of Ardennes?"
+
+"Oh, I am glad to see you; I wished to consult you, Cleveland. But
+first, Lady Florence, to convince you and our host that my rambles
+have not been wholly fruitless, and that I could not walk from Dan to
+Beersheba and find all barren, accept my offering--a wild rose that I
+discovered in the thickest part of the wood. It is not a civilised rose.
+Now, Cleveland, a word with you."
+
+"And now, Mr. Maltravers, I am _de trop_," said Lady Florence.
+
+"Pardon me, I have no secrets from you in this matter--or rather these
+matters; for there are two to be discussed. In the first place, Lady
+Florence, that poor Cesarini,--you know and like him--nay, no blushes."
+
+"Did I blush?--then it was in recollection of an old reproach of yours."
+
+"At its justice?--well, no matter. He is one for whom I always felt a
+lively interest. His very morbidity of temperament only increases my
+anxiety for his future fate. I have received a letter from De Montaigne,
+his brother-in-law, who seems seriously uneasy about Castruccio. He
+wishes him to leave England at once, as the sole means of restoring his
+broken fortunes. De Montaigne has the opportunity of procuring him a
+diplomatic situation, which may not again occur--and--but you know the
+man--what shall we do? I am sure he will not listen to me; he looks on
+me as an interested rival for fame."
+
+"Do you think I have any subtler eloquence?" said Cleveland. "No, I
+am an author, too. Come, I think your ladyship must be the
+arch-negotiator."
+
+"He has genius, he has merit," said Maltravers, pleadingly; "he wants
+nothing but time and experience to wean him from his foibles. _Will_ you
+try to save him, Lady Florence?"
+
+"Why? nay, I must not be obdurate; I will see him when I go to town. It
+is like you, Mr. Maltravers, to feel this interest in one--"
+
+"Who does not like me, you would say; but he will some day or other.
+Besides, I owe him deep gratitude. In his weaker qualities I have seen
+many which all literary men might incur, without strict watch over
+themselves; and let me add, also, that his family have great claims on
+me."
+
+"You believe in the soundness of his heart, and in the integrity of his
+honour?" said Cleveland, inquiringly.
+
+"Indeed I do; these are, these must be, the redeeming qualities of
+poets."
+
+Maltravers spoke warmly; and such at that time was his influence over
+Florence, that his words formed--alas, too fatally!--her estimate of
+Castruccio's character, which had at first been high, but which his own
+presumption had latterly shaken. She had seen him three or four times in
+the interval between the receipt of his apologetic letter and her visit
+to Cleveland, and he had seemed to her rather sullen than humbled. But
+she felt for the vanity she herself had wounded.
+
+"And now," continued Maltravers, "for my second subject of consultation.
+But that is political; will it weary Lady Florence?"
+
+"Oh, no; to politics I am never indifferent: they always inspire me with
+contempt or admiration, according to the motives of those who bring the
+science into action. Pray say on."
+
+"Well," said Cleveland, "one confidant at a time; you will forgive me,
+for I see my guests coming across the lawn, and I may as well make a
+diversion in your favour. Ernest can consult _me_ at any time."
+
+Cleveland walked away; but the intimacy between Maltravers and Florence
+was of so frank a nature that there was nothing embarrassing in the
+thought of a _tete-a-tete_.
+
+"Lady Florence," said Ernest, "there is no one in the world with whom
+I can confer so cheerfully as with you. I am almost glad of Cleveland's
+absence, for, with all his amiable and fine qualities, 'the world is
+too much with him,' and we do not argue from the same data. Pardon my
+prelude--now to my position. I have received a letter from Mr. ------.
+That statesman, whom none but those acquainted with the chivalrous
+beauty of his nature can understand or appreciate, sees before him the
+most brilliant career that ever opened in this country to a public
+man not born an aristocrat. He has asked me to form one of the new
+administration that he is about to create: the place offered to me is
+above my merits, nor suited to what I have yet done, though, perhaps,
+it be suited to what I may yet do. I make that qualification, for
+you know," added Ernest, with a proud smile, "that I am sanguine and
+self-confident."
+
+"You accept the proposal?"
+
+"Nay,--should I not reject it? Our politics are the same only for
+the moment, our ultimate objects are widely different. To serve with
+Mr.------, I must make an unequal compromise--abandon nine opinions to
+promote one. Is not this a capitulation of that great citadel, one's own
+conscience? No man will call me inconsistent, for, in public life, to
+agree with another on a party question is all that is required; the
+thousand questions not yet ripened, and lying dark and concealed in the
+future, are not inquired into and divined; but I own I shall deem myself
+worse than inconsistent. For this is my dilemma,--if I use this noble
+spirit merely to advance one object, and then desert him where he halts,
+I am treacherous to him; if I halt with him, but one of my objects
+effected, I am treacherous to myself. Such are my views. It is with pain
+I arrive at them, for, at first, my heart beat with a selfish ambition."
+
+"You are right, you are right," exclaimed Florence, with glowing cheeks;
+"how could I doubt you? I comprehend the sacrifice you make; for a proud
+thing is it to soar above the predictions of foes in that palpable road
+to honour which the world's hard eyes can see, and the world's cold
+heart can measure; but prouder is it to feel that you have never
+advanced one step to the goal, which remembrance would retract. No, my
+friend, wait your time, confident that it must come, when conscience and
+ambition can go hand-in-hand--when the broad objects of a luminous and
+enlarged policy lie before you like a chart, and you can calculate every
+step of the way without peril of being lost. Ah, let them still
+call loftiness of purpose and whiteness of soul the dreams of a
+theorist,--even if they be so, the Ideal in this case is better than the
+Practical. Meanwhile your position is not one to forfeit lightly. Before
+you is that throne in literature which it requires no doubtful step
+to win, if you have, as I believe, the mental power to attain it. An
+ambition that may indeed be relinquished, if a more troubled career can
+better achieve those public purposes at which both letters and policy
+should aim, but which is not to be surrendered for the rewards of a
+place-man, or the advancement of a courtier."
+
+It was while uttering these noble and inspiring sentiments, that
+Florence Lascelles suddenly acquired in Ernest's eyes a loveliness with
+which they had not before invested her.
+
+"Oh," he said, as, with a sudden impulse, he lifted her hand to his
+lips, "blessed be the hour in which you gave me your friendship! These
+are the thoughts I have longed to hear from living lips, when I have
+been tempted to believe patriotism a delusion, and virtue but a name."
+
+Lady Florence heard, and her whole form seemed changed,--she was no
+longer the majestic sibyl, but the attached, timorous, delighted woman.
+
+It so happened that in her confusion she dropped from her hand the
+flower Maltravers had given her, and involuntarily glad of a pretext to
+conceal her countenance, she stooped to take it from the ground. In so
+doing, a letter fell from her bosom--and Maltravers, as he bent forwards
+to forestall her own movement, saw that the direction was to himself,
+and in the handwriting of his unknown correspondent. He seized the
+letter, and gazed in flattered and entranced astonishment, first on the
+writing, next on the detected writer. Florence grew deadly pale, and
+covering her face with her hands, burst into tears.
+
+"O fool that I was," cried Ernest, in the passion of the moment, "not to
+know--not to have felt that there were not two Florences in the world!
+But if the thought had crossed me, I would not have dared to harbour
+it."
+
+"Go, go," sobbed Florence; "leave me, in mercy leave me!"
+
+"Not till you bid me rise," said Ernest, in emotion scarcely less deep
+than hers, as he sank on his knee at her feet.
+
+Need I go on?--When they left that spot, a soft confession had been
+made--deep vows interchanged, and Ernest Maltravers was the accepted
+suitor of Florence Lascelles.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ "A hundred fathers would in my situation tell you that, as
+  you are of noble extraction, you should marry a nobleman.
+  But I do not say so. I will not sacrifice my child to any
+  prejudice."
+        KOTZEBUE. _Lover's Vows_.
+
+ "Take heed, my lord; the welfare of us all
+  Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man."
+        SHAKSPEARE. _Henry VI._
+
+ "Oh, how this spring of love resembleth
+  Th' uncertain glory of an April day;
+  Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
+  And by and by a cloud takes all away!"
+        SHAKSPEARE. _The Two Gentlemen of Verona_.
+
+WHEN Maltravers was once more in his solitary apartment, he felt as in
+a dream. He had obeyed an impulse, irresistible, perhaps, but one with
+which the _conscience of his heart_ was not satisfied. A voice whispered
+to him, "Thou hast deceived her and thyself--thou dost not love her!"
+In vain he recalled her beauty, her grace, her genius--her singular and
+enthusiastic passion for himself--the voice still replied, "Thou dost
+not love. Bid farewell for ever to thy fond dreams of a life more
+blessed than that of mortals. From the stormy sea of the future are
+blotted out eternally for thee--Calypso and her Golden Isle. Thou canst
+no more paint on the dim canvas of thy desires the form of her with
+whom thou couldst dwell for ever. Thou hast been unfaithful to thine own
+ideal--thou hast given thyself for ever and for ever to another--thou
+hast renounced hope--thou must live as in a prison, with a being with
+whom thou hast not the harmony of love."
+
+"No matter," said Maltravers, almost alarmed, and starting from these
+thoughts, "I am betrothed to one who loves me--it is folly and dishonour
+to repent and to repine. I have gone through the best years of youth
+without finding the Egeria with whom the cavern would be sweeter than
+a throne. Why live to the grave a vain and visionary Nympholept? Out of
+the real world could I have made a nobler choice?"
+
+While Maltravers thus communed with himself, Lady Florence passed into
+her father's dressing-room, and there awaited his return from London.
+She knew his worldly views--she knew also the pride of her affianced,
+and, she felt that she alone could mediate between the two.
+
+Lord Saxingham at last returned--busy, bustling, important, and
+good-humoured as usual. "Well, Flory, well?--glad to see you--quite
+blooming, I declare,--never saw you with such a colour--monstrous like
+me, certainly. We always had fine complexions and fine eyes in our
+family. But I'm rather late--first bell rung--we _ci-devant jeunes
+hommes_ are rather long dressing, and you are not dressed yet, I see."
+
+"My dearest father, I wished to speak with you on a matter of much
+importance."
+
+"Do you?--what, immediately?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well--what is it?--your Slingsby property, I suppose."
+
+"No, my dear father--pray sit down and hear me patiently."
+
+Lord Saxingham began to be both alarmed and curious--he seated himself
+in silence, and looked anxiously in the face of his daughter.
+
+"You have always been very indulgent to me," commenced Florence, with
+a half smile, "and I have had my own way more than most young ladies.
+Believe me, my dear father. I am most grateful not only for your
+affection but your esteem. I have been a strange wild girl, but I am
+now about to reform; and as the first step, I ask your consent to give
+myself a preceptor and a guide--"
+
+"A what!" cried Lord Saxingham.
+
+"In other words, I am about to--to--well, the truth must out--to marry."
+
+"Has the Duke of ------ been here to-day?"
+
+"Not that I know of. But it is no duke to whom I have promised my
+hand--it is a nobler and rarer dignity that has caught my ambition. Mr.
+Maltravers has--"
+
+"Mr. Maltravers!--Mr. Devil!--the girl's mad!--don't talk to me,
+child, I won't consent to any such nonsense. A country gentleman--very
+respectable, very clever, and all that, but it's no use talking--my
+mind's made up. With your fortune, too!"
+
+"My dear father, I will not marry without your consent, though my
+fortune is settled on me, and I am of age."
+
+"There's a good child--and now let me dress--we shall be late."
+
+"No, not yet," said Lady Florence, throwing her arm carelessly round her
+father's neck--"I shall marry Mr. Maltravers, but it will be with your
+full approval. Just consider, if I married the Duke of ------, he would
+expect all my fortune, such as it is. Ten thousand a year is at my
+disposal; if I marry Mr. Maltravers, it will be settled on you--I always
+meant it--it is a poor return for your kindness, your indulgence--but it
+will show that your own Flory is not ungrateful."
+
+"I won't hear."
+
+"Stop--listen to reason. You are not rich--you are entitled but to a
+small pension if you ever resign office, and your official salary, I
+have often heard you say, does not prevent you from being embarrassed.
+To whom should a daughter give from her superfluities but to a
+parent?--from whom should a parent receive, but from a child, who can
+never repay his love?--Ah, this is nothing; but you--you who have never
+crossed her lightest whim--do not you destroy all the hopes of happiness
+your Florence can ever form."
+
+Florence wept, and Lord Saxingham, who was greatly moved, let fall a few
+tears also. Perhaps it is too much to say that the pecuniary part of the
+proffered arrangement entirely won him over; but still the way it was
+introduced softened his heart. He possibly thought that it was better to
+have a good and grateful daughter in a country gentleman's wife, than a
+sullen and thankless one in a duchess. However that may be, certain it
+is, that before Lord Saxingham began his toilet, he promised to make no
+obstacle to the marriage, and all he asked in return was, that at least
+three months (but that, indeed, the lawyers would require) should elapse
+before it took place; and on this understanding Florence left him,
+radiant and joyous as Flora herself, when the sun of spring makes the
+world a garden. Never had she thought so little of her beauty, and never
+had it seemed so glorious, as that happy evening. But Maltravers was
+pale and thoughtful, and Florence in vain sought his eyes during the
+dinner, which seemed to her insufferably long. Afterwards, however,
+they met and conversed apart the rest of the evening; and the beauty of
+Florence began to produce upon Ernest's heart its natural effect; and
+that evening--ah, how Florence treasured the remembrance of every hour,
+every minute of its annals!
+
+It would have been amusing to witness the short conversation between
+Lord Saxingham and Maltravers, when the latter sought the earl at night
+in his lordship's room. To Lord Saxingham's surprise, not a word did
+Maltravers utter of his own subordinate pretensions to Lady Florence's
+hand. Coldly, drily, and almost haughtily, did he make the formal
+proposals, "as if [as Lord Saxingham afterwards said to Ferrers] the
+man were doing me the highest possible honour in taking my daughter, the
+beauty of London, with fifty thousand a year, off my hands." But this
+was quite Maltravers!--if he had been proposing to the daughter of a
+country curate, without a sixpence, he would have been the humblest of
+the humble. The earl was embarrassed and discomposed--he was almost awed
+by the Siddons-like countenance and Coriolanus-like air of his future
+son-in-law-he even hinted nothing of the compromise as to time which
+he had made with his daughter. He thought it better to leave it to Lady
+Florence to arrange that matter. They shook hands frigidly and parted.
+Maltravers went next into Cleveland's room, and communicated all to the
+delighted old man, whose congratulations were so fervid that Maltravers
+felt it would be a sin not to fancy himself the happiest, man in the
+world. That night he wrote his refusal of the appointment offered him.
+
+The next day, Lord Saxingham went to his office in Downing Street as
+usual, and Lady Florence and Ernest found an opportunity to ramble
+through the grounds alone.
+
+There it was that occurred those confessions, sweet alike to utter and
+to hear. Then did Florence speak of her early years--of her self-formed
+and solitary mind--of her youthful dreams and reveries. Nothing around
+her to excite interest or admiration, or the more romantic, the higher,
+or the softer qualities of her nature, she turned to contemplation and
+to books. It is the combination of the faculties with the affections,
+exiled from action, and finding no worldly vent, which produces Poetry,
+the child of passion and of thought. Hence, before the real cares of
+existence claim them, the young, who are abler yet lonelier than their
+fellows, are nearly always poets; and Florence was a poetess. In minds
+like this, the first book that seems to embody and represent their own
+most cherished and beloved trains of sentiment and ideas, ever creates
+a reverential and deep enthusiasm. The lonely, and proud, and melancholy
+soul of Maltravers, which made itself visible in all his creations,
+became to Florence like a revealer of the secrets of her own nature.
+She conceived an intense and mysterious interest in the man whose mind
+exercised so pervading a power over her own. She made herself acquainted
+with his pursuits, his career--she fancied she found a symmetry and
+harmony between the actual being and the breathing genius--she imagined
+she understood what seemed dark and obscure to others. He whom she
+had never seen grew to her a never-absent friend. His ambition, his
+reputation, were to her like a possession of her own. So at length, in
+the folly of her young romance, she wrote to him, and dreaming of no
+discovery, anticipating no result, the habit once indulged became to
+her that luxury which writing for the eye of the world is to an author
+oppressed with the burthen of his own thoughts. At length she saw him,
+and he did not destroy her illusion. She might have recovered from the
+spell if she had found him ready at once to worship at her shrine. The
+mixture of reserve and frankness--frankness of language, reserve of
+manner--which belonged to Maltravers, piqued her. Her vanity became the
+auxiliary to her imagination. At length they met at Cleveland's house;
+their intercourse became more unrestrained--their friendship was
+established, and she discovered that she had wilfully implicated her
+happiness in indulging her dreams; yet even then she believed that
+Maltravers loved her, despite his silence upon the subject of love. His
+manner, his words bespoke his interest in her, and his voice was ever
+soft when he spoke to women; for he had much of the old chivalric
+respect and tenderness for the sex. What was general it was natural
+that she should apply individually--she who had walked the world but
+to fascinate and to conquer. It was probable that her great wealth and
+social position imposed a check on the delicate pride of Maltravers--she
+hoped so--she believed it--yet she felt her danger, and her own pride at
+last took alarm. In such a moment she had resumed the character of the
+unknown correspondent--she had written to Maltravers--addressed her
+letter to his own house, and meant the next day to have gone to London,
+and posted it there. In this letter she had spoken of his visit to
+Cleveland, of his position with herself. She exhorted him, if he loved
+her, to confess, and if not, to fly. She had written artfully and
+eloquently--she was desirous of expediting her own fate; and then, with
+that letter in her bosom, she had met Maltravers, and the reader has
+learned the rest. Something of all this the blushing and happy Florence
+now revealed: and when she ended with uttering the woman's soft fear
+that she had been too bold, is it wonderful that Maltravers, clasping
+her to his bosom, felt the gratitude, and the delighted vanity, which
+seemed even to himself like love? And into love those feelings rapidly
+and deliciously will merge, if fate and accident permit!
+
+And now they were by the side of the water; and the sun was gently
+setting as on the eve before. It was about the same hour, the fairest of
+an autumn day; none were near--the slope of the hill hid the house from
+their view. Had they been in the desert they could not have been more
+alone. It was not silence that breathed around them, as they sat on that
+bench with the broad beech spreading over them its trembling canopy
+of leaves;--but those murmurs of living nature which are sweeter than
+silence itself--the songs of birds--the tinkling bell of the sheep on
+the opposite bank--the wind sighing through the trees, and the gentle
+heaving of the glittering waves that washed the odorous reed and
+water-lily at their feet. They had both been for some moments silent;
+and Florence now broke the pause, but in tones more low than usual.
+
+"Ah!" said she, turning towards him, "these hours are happier than we
+can find in that crowded world whither your destiny must call us. For
+me, ambition seems for ever at an end. I have found all; I am no longer
+haunted with the desire of gaining a vague something,--a shadowy empire,
+that we call fame or power. The sole thought that disturbs the
+calm current of my soul, is the fear to lose a particle of the rich
+possession I have gained."
+
+"May your fears ever be as idle!"
+
+"And you really love me! I repeat to myself ever and ever that one
+phrase. I could once have borne to lose you, now it would be my death. I
+despaired of ever being loved for myself; my wealth was a fatal dower;
+I suspected avarice in every vow, and saw the base world lurk at
+the bottom of every heart that offered itself at my shrine. But you,
+Ernest,--you, I feel, never could weigh gold in the balance--and you--if
+you love--love me for myself."
+
+"And I shall love thee more with every hour."
+
+"I know not that: I dread that you will love me less when you know me
+more. I fear I shall seem to you exacting--I am jealous already. I was
+jealous even of Lady T------, when I saw you by her side this morning. I
+would have your every look--monopolise your every word."
+
+This confession did not please Maltravers, as it might have done if he
+had been more deeply in love. Jealousy, in a woman of so vehement and
+imperious a nature, was indeed a passion to be dreaded.
+
+"Do not say so, dear Florence," said he, with a very grave smile;
+"for love should have implicit confidence as its bond and nature--and
+jealousy is doubt, and doubt is the death of love."
+
+A shade passed over Florence's too expressive face, and she sighed
+heavily.
+
+It was at this time that Maltravers, raising his eyes, saw the form of
+Lumley Ferrers approaching towards them from the opposite end of the
+terrace: at the same instant, a dark cloud crept over the sky, the
+waters seemed overcast and the breeze fell: a chill and strange
+presentiment of evil shot across Ernest's heart, and, like many
+imaginative persons, he was unconsciously superstitious as to
+presentiments.
+
+"We are no longer alone," said he, rising; "your cousin has doubtless
+learned our engagement, and comes to congratulate your suitor."
+
+"Tell me," he continued musingly, as they walked on to meet Ferrers,
+"are you very partial to Lumley? what think you of his character?--it is
+one that perplexes me; sometimes I think it has changed since we parted
+in Italy--sometimes I think it has not changed, but ripened."
+
+"Lumley, I have known from a child," replied Florence, "and see much to
+admire and like in him; I admire his boldness and candour; his scorn
+of the world's littleness and falsehood; I like his good-nature--his
+gaiety--and fancy his heart better than it may seem to the superficial
+observer."
+
+"Yet he appears to me selfish and unprincipled."
+
+"It is from a fine contempt for the vices and follies of men that he has
+contracted the habit of consulting his own resolute will--and,
+believing everything done in this noisy stage of action a cheat, he has
+accommodated his ambition to the fashion. Though without what is termed
+genius, he will obtain a distinction and power that few men of genius
+arrive at."
+
+"Because _genius_ is essentially honest," said Maltravers. "However, you
+teach me to look on him more indulgently. I suspect the real frankness
+of men whom I know to be hypocrites in public life--but, perhaps, I
+judge by too harsh a standard."
+
+"Third persons," said Ferrers, as he now joined them, "are seldom
+unwelcome in the country; and I flatter myself that I am the exact thing
+wanting to complete the charm of this beautiful landscape."
+
+"You are ever modest, my cousin."
+
+"It is my weak side, I know; but I shall improve with years and wisdom.
+What say you, Maltravers?" and Ferrers passed his arm affectionately
+through Ernest's.
+
+"By the by, I am too familiar--I am sunk in the world. I am a thing to
+be sneered at by you old-family people. I am next heir to a bran-new
+Brummagem peerage. 'Gad, I feel brassy already!"
+
+"What, is Mr. Templeton--"
+
+"Mr. Templeton is no more; he is defunct, extinguished--out of the
+ashes rises the phoenix Lord Vargrave. We had thought of a more sounding
+title; De Courval has a nobler sound,--but my good uncle has nothing of
+the Norman about him: so we dropped the De as ridiculous--Vargrave is
+euphonious and appropriate. My uncle has a manor of that name--Baron
+Vargrave of Vargrave."
+
+"Ah--I congratulate you."
+
+"Thank you. Lady Vargrave may destroy all my hopes yet. But nothing
+venture, nothing have. My uncle will be gazetted to-day. Poor man, he
+will be delighted; and as he certainly owes it much to me, he will, I
+suppose, be very grateful--or hate me ever afterwards--that is a toss
+up. A benefit conferred is a complete hazard between the thumb of pride
+and the forefinger of affection. Heads gratitude, tails hatred! There,
+that's a simile in the fashion of the old writers: 'Well of English
+undefiled!' humph!"
+
+"So that beautiful child is Mrs. Templeton's, or rather Lady Vargrave's,
+daughter by a former marriage?" said Maltravers, abstractedly.
+
+"Yes, it is astonishing how fond he is of her. Pretty little
+creature--confoundedly artful though. By the way, Maltravers, we had
+an unexpectedly stormy night the last of the session--strong
+division--ministers hard pressed. I made quite a good speech for them. I
+suppose, however, there will be some change--the moderates will be taken
+in. Perhaps by next session I may congratulate you."
+
+Ferrers looked hard at Maltravers while he spoke. But Ernest replied
+coldly, and evasively, and they were now joined by a party of idlers,
+lounging along the lawn in expectation of the first dinner-bell.
+Cleveland was in high consultation about the proper spot for a new
+fountain; and he summoned Maltravers to give his opinion whether it
+should spring from the centre of a flower-bed or beneath the drooping
+shade of a large willow. While this interesting discussion was going
+on, Ferrers drew aside his cousin, and pressing her hand affectionately,
+said, in a soft and tender voice:
+
+"My dear Florence--for in such a time permit me to be familiar--I
+understand from Lord Saxingham, whom I met in London, that you are
+engaged to Maltravers. Busy as I was, I could not rest without coming
+hither to offer my best and most earnest wish for your happiness. I may
+seem a careless, I am considered a selfish, person; but my heart is warm
+to those who really interest it. And never did brother offer up for the
+welfare of a beloved sister prayers more anxious and fond, than those
+that poor Lumley Ferrers, breathes for Florence Lascelles."
+
+Florence was startled and melted--the whole tone and manner of Lumley
+were so different from those he usually assumed. She warmly returned the
+pressure of his hand, and thanked him briefly, but with emotion.
+
+"No one is great and good enough for you, Florence," continued
+Ferrers--"no one. But I admire your disinterested and generous choice.
+Maltravers and I have not been friends lately; but I respect him, as all
+must. He has noble qualities, and he has great ambition. In addition to
+the deep and ardent love that you cannot fail to inspire, he will owe
+you eternal gratitude. In this aristocratic country, your hand secures
+to him the most brilliant fortunes, the most proud career. His talents
+will now be measured by a very different standard. His merits will not
+pass through any subordinate grades, but leap at once into the highest
+posts; and, as he is even more proud than ambitious, how he must bless
+one who raises him, without effort, into positions of eminent command!"
+
+"Oh, he does not think of such worldly advantages--he, the too pure,
+the too refined!" said Florence, with trembling eagerness. "He has no
+avarice, nothing mercenary in his nature!"
+
+"No; there you indeed do him justice,--there is not a particle of
+baseness in his mind--I did not say there was. The very greatness of
+his aspirations, his indignant and scornful pride, lift him above the
+thought of your wealth, your rank,--except as means to an end."
+
+"You mistake still," said Florence, faintly smiling, but turning pale.
+
+"No," resumed Ferrers, not appearing to hear her, and as if pursuing
+his own thoughts. "I always predicted that Maltravers would make a
+distinguished connection in marriage. He would not permit himself to
+love the lowborn or the poor. His affections are in his pride as much
+as in his heart. He is a great creature--you have judged wisely--and may
+Heaven bless you!"
+
+With these words, Ferrers left her, and Florence, when she descended to
+dinner, wore a moody and clouded brow. Ferrers stayed three days at
+the house. He was peculiarly cordial to Maltravers, and spoke little to
+Florence. But that little never failed to leave upon her mind a jealous
+and anxious irritability, to which she yielded with morbid facility. In
+order perfectly to understand Florence Lascelles, it must be remembered
+that, with all her dazzling qualities, she was not what is called a
+lovable person. A certain hardness in her disposition, even as a child,
+had prevented her winding into the hearts of those around her. Deprived
+of her mother's care--having little or no intercourse with children of
+her own age--brought up with a starched governess, or female relations,
+poor and proud--she never had contracted the softness of manner which
+the reciprocation of household affections usually produces. With a
+haughty consciousness of her powers, her birth, her position, advantages
+always dinned into her ear, she grew up solitary, unsocial, and
+imperious. Her father was rather proud than fond of her--her servants
+did not love her--she had too little consideration for others, too
+little blandness and suavity to be loved by inferiors--she was too
+learned and too stern to find pleasure in the conversation and society
+of young ladies of her own age:--she had no friends. Now, having really
+strong affection, she felt all this, but rather with resentment than
+grief--she longed to be loved, but did not seek to be so--she felt as if
+it was her fate not to be loved--she blamed Fate, not herself.
+
+When, with all the proud, pure, and generous candour of her nature,
+she avowed to Ernest her love for him, she naturally expected the most
+ardent and passionate return; nothing less could content her. But the
+habit and experience of all the past made her eternally suspicious
+that she was not loved; it was wormwood and poison to her to fancy that
+Maltravers had ever considered her advantages of fortune, except as a
+bar to his pretensions and a check on his passion. It was the same thing
+to her, whether it was the pettiest avarice or the loftiest aspirations
+that actuated her lover, if he had been actuated in his heart by any
+sentiment but love; and Ferrers, to whose eye her foibles were familiar,
+knew well how to make his praises of Ernest arouse against Ernest all
+her exacting jealousies and irritable doubts.
+
+"It is strange," said he, one evening, as he was conversing with
+Florence, "how complete and triumphant a conquest you have effected over
+Ernest! Will you believe it?--he conceived a prejudice against you when
+he first saw you--he even said that you were made to be admired, not to
+be loved."
+
+"Ha!--did he so?--true, true--he has almost said the same thing to me."
+
+"But now how he must love you! Surely he has all the signs."
+
+"And what are the signs, most learned Lumley?" said Florence, forcing a
+smile.
+
+"Why, in the first place, you will doubtless observe that he never
+takes his eyes from you--with whomsoever he converses, whatever his
+occupation, those eyes, restless and pining, wander around for one
+glance from you."
+
+Florence sighed, and looked up--at the other end of the room, her lover
+was conversing with Cleveland, and his eyes never wandered in search of
+her.
+
+Ferrers did not seem to notice this practical contradiction of his
+theory, but went on.
+
+"Then surely his whole character is changed--that brow has lost its
+calm majesty, that deep voice its assured and tranquil tone. Has he not
+become humble, and embarrassed, and fretful, living only on your smile,
+reproachful if you look upon another--sorrowful if your lip be less
+smiling--a thing of doubt, and dread, and trembling agitation--slave to
+a shadow--no longer lord of the creation? Such is love, such is the love
+you should inspire, such is the love Maltravers is capable of--for I
+have seen him testify it to another. But," added Lumley, quickly, and as
+if afraid he had said too much, "Lord Saxingham is looking out for me to
+make up his whist-table. I go to-morrow--when shall you be in town?"
+
+"In the course of the week," said poor Florence mechanically; and Lumley
+walked away.
+
+In another moment, Maltravers, who had been more observant than he
+seemed, joined her where she sat.
+
+"Dear Florence," said he, tenderly, "you look pale--I fear you are not
+so well this evening."
+
+"No affectation of an interest you do not feel, pray," said Florence,
+with a scornful lip but swimming eyes.
+
+"Do not feel, Florence!"
+
+"It is the first time, at least, that you have observed whether I am
+well or ill. But it is no matter."
+
+"My dear Florence,--why this tone?--how have I offended you? Has Lumley
+said--"
+
+"Nothing but in your praise. Oh, be not afraid, you are one of those of
+whom all speak highly. But do not let me detain you here; let us join
+our host--you have left him alone."
+
+Lady Florence waited for no reply, nor did Maltravers attempt to detain
+her. He looked pained, and when she turned round to catch a glance,
+that she hoped would be reproachful, he was gone. Lady Florence became
+nervous and uneasy, talked she knew not what, and laughed hysterically.
+She, however, deceived Cleveland into the notion that she was in the
+best possible spirits. By and by she rose, and passed through the suite
+of rooms: her heart was with Maltravers--still he was not visible. At
+length she entered the conservatory, and there she observed him, through
+the open casements, walking slowly, with folded arms, upon the moonlit
+lawn. There was a short struggle in her breast between woman's pride and
+woman's love; the last conquered, and she joined him.
+
+"Forgive me, Ernest," she said, extending her hand, "I was to blame."
+
+Ernest kissed the fair hand, and answered touchingly:
+
+"Florence, you have the power to wound me, be forbearing in its
+exercise. Heaven knows that I would not, from the vain desire of showing
+command over you, inflict upon you a single pang. Ah! do not fancy that
+in lovers' quarrels there is any sweetness that compensates the sting."
+
+"I told you I was too exacting, Ernest. I told you you would not love me
+so well when you knew me better."
+
+"And were a false prophetess. Florence, every day, every hour I love you
+more--better than I once thought I could."
+
+"Then," cried this wayward girl, anxious to pain herself, "then once you
+did not love me?"
+
+"Florence, I will be candid--I did not. You are now rapidly obtaining an
+empire over me, greater than my reason should allow. But, beware: if my
+love be really a possession you desire,--beware how you arm my reason
+against you. Florence, I am a proud man. My very consciousness of the
+more splendid alliances you could form renders me less humble a lover
+than you might find in others. I were not worthy of you if I were not
+tenacious of my self-respect."
+
+"Ah!" said Florence, to whose heart these words went home, "forgive me
+but this once. I shall not forgive myself so soon."
+
+And Ernest drew her to his heart, and felt that, with all her faults, a
+woman whom he feared he could not render as happy as her sacrifices to
+him deserved was becoming very dear to him. In his heart he knew that
+she was not formed to render him happy; but that was not his thought,
+his fear. Her love had rooted out all thought of self from that generous
+breast. His only anxiety was to requite her.
+
+They walked along the sward, silent, thoughtful; and Florence
+melancholy, yet blessed.
+
+"That serene heaven, those lovely stars," said Maltravers at last, "do
+they not preach to us the Philosophy of Peace? Do they not tell us how
+much of calm belongs to the dignity of man, and the sublime essence of
+the soul. Petty distractions and self-wrought cares are not congenial to
+our real nature; their very disturbance is a proof that they are at war
+with our natures. Ah, sweet Florence, let us learn from yon skies, over
+which, in the faith of the poets of old, brooded the wings of primaeval
+and serenest Love, what earthly love should be,--a thing pure as light,
+and peaceful as immortality, watching over the stormy world, that it
+shall survive, and high above the clouds and vapours that roll below.
+Let little minds introduce into the holiest of affections all the
+bitterness and tumult of common life! Let us love as beings who will one
+day be inhabitants of the stars!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+ "A slippery and subtle knave; a finder out of occasions, that
+  has an eye can stamp and counterfeit advantages."--_Othello_.
+
+ "Knavery's plain face is never seen till used."-_-Ibid._
+
+"You see, my dear Lumley," said Lord Saxingham, as the next day the two
+kinsmen were on their way to London in the earl's chariot, "you see that
+at the best this marriage of Flory's is a cursed bore."
+
+"Why, indeed, it has its disadvantages. Maltravers is a gentleman and
+a man of genius; but gentlemen are plentiful, and his genius only tells
+against us, since he is not even of our politics."
+
+"Exactly--my own son-in-law voting against me!"
+
+"A practicable, reasonable man would change; not so Maltravers--and all
+the estates, and all the parliamentary influence, and all the wealth
+that ought to go with the family and with the party, go out of the
+family and against the party. You are quite right, my dear lord--it is a
+cursed bore."
+
+"And she might have had the Duke of ------, a man with a rental
+of L100,000 a year. It is too ridiculous. This Maltravers, d----d
+disagreeable fellow, too, eh?"
+
+"Stiff and stately--much changed for the worse of late years--grown
+conceited and set up."
+
+"Do you know, Lumley, I would rather, of the two, have had you for my
+son-in-law?"
+
+Lumley half started. "Are you serious, my lord? I have not Ernest's
+fortune--I cannot make such settlements: my lineage, too, at least on my
+mother's side, is less ancient."
+
+"Oh, as to settlements, Flory's fortune ought to be settled on
+herself,--and as compared with that fortune, what could Mr. Maltravers
+pretend to settle? Neither she nor any children she may have could want
+his L4,000 a year, if he settled it all. As for family, connections tell
+more nowadays than Norman descent,--and for the rest, you are likely to
+be old Templeton's heir, to have a peerage (a large sum of ready money
+is always useful)--are rising in the House--one of our own set--will
+soon be in office--and, flattery apart, a devilish good fellow into
+the bargain. Oh, I would sooner a thousand times that Flory had taken a
+fancy to you."
+
+Lumley Ferrers bowed his head but said nothing. He fell into a reverie,
+and Lord Saxingham took up his official red box, became deep in its
+contents, and forgot all about the marriage of his daughter.
+
+Lumley pulled the check-string as the carriage entered Pall Mall, and
+desired to be set down at "The Travellers." While Lord Saxingham was
+borne on to settle the affairs of the nation, not being able to settle
+those of his own household, Ferrers was inquiring the address of
+Castruccio Cesarini. The porter was unable to give it him. The Signor
+generally called every day for his notes, but no one at the club
+knew where he lodged. Ferrers wrote, and left with the porter a line
+requesting Cesarini to call on him as soon as possible, and he bent
+his way to his house in Great George Street. He went straight into his
+library, unlocked his escritoire, and took out that letter which, the
+reader will remember, Maltravers had written to Cesarini, and which
+Lumley had secured; carefully did he twice read over this effusion, and
+the second time his face brightened and his eyes sparkled. It is now
+time to lay this letter before the reader: it ran thus:--
+
+
+        _"Private and confidential."_
+
+"MY DEAR CESARINI:
+
+"The assurance of your friendly feelings is most welcome to me. In much
+of what you say of marriage, I am inclined, though with reluctance, to
+agree. As to Lady Florence herself, few persons are more calculated
+to dazzle, perhaps to fascinate. But is she a person to make a home
+happy--to sympathise where she has been accustomed to command--to
+comprehend, and to yield to the waywardness and irritability common to
+our fanciful and morbid race--to content herself with the homage of a
+single heart? I do not know her enough to decide the question; but I
+know her enough to feel deep solicitude and anxiety for your happiness,
+if centred in a nature so imperious and so vain. But you will remind me
+of her fortune, her station. You will say that such are the sources from
+which, to an ambitious mind, happiness may well be drawn! Alas! I fear
+that the man who marries Lady Florence must indeed confine his dreams
+of felicity to those harsh and disappointing realities. But, Cesarini,
+these are not words which, were we more intimate, I would address to
+you. I doubt the reality of those affections which you ascribe to her
+and suppose devoted to yourself. She is evidently fond of conquest. She
+sports with the victims she makes. Her vanity dupes others, perhaps to
+be duped itself at last. I will not say more to you.
+
+   "Yours,
+     E. MALTRAVERS."
+
+
+"Hurrah!" cried Ferrers, as he threw down the letter, and rubbed his
+hands with delight. "I little thought, when I schemed for this letter,
+that chance would make it so inestimably serviceable. There is less
+to alter than I thought for--the clumsiest botcher in the world could
+manage it. Let me look again. Hem, hem--the first phrase to alter is
+this: 'I know her enough to feel deep solicitude and anxiety for _your_
+happiness if centred in a nature so imperious and vain'--scratch
+out 'your,' and put 'my.' All the rest good, good--till we come
+to 'affections which you ascribe to her, and suppose devoted to
+_yourself_'--for '_yourself_' write '_myself_'--the rest will do. Now,
+then, the date--we must change it to the present month, and the work is
+done. I wish that Italian blockhead would come. If I can but once make
+an irreparable breach between her and Maltravers, I think I cannot fail
+of securing his place; her pique, her resentment, will hurry her into
+taking the first who offers, by way of revenge. And by Jupiter, even if
+I fail (which I am sure I shall not), it will be something to keep Flory
+as lady paramount for a duke of our own party. I shall gain immensely
+by such a connection; but I lose everything and gain nothing by her
+marrying Maltravers--of opposite politics too--whom I begin to hate
+like poison. But no duke shall have her--Florence Ferrers, the only
+alliteration I ever liked--yet it would sound rough in poetry."
+
+Lumley then deliberately drew towards him his inkstand--"No
+penknife!--Ah, true, I never mend pens--sad waste--must send out for
+one." He rang the bell, ordered a penknife to be purchased, and the
+servant was still out when a knock at the door was heard, and in a
+minute more Cesarini entered.
+
+"Ah," said Lumley, assuming a melancholy air, "I am glad that you are
+arrived; you will excuse my having written to you so unceremoniously.
+You received my note--sit down, pray--and how are you? you look
+delicate--can I offer you anything?"
+
+"Wine," said Cesarini, laconically, "wine; your climate requires wine."
+
+Here the servant entered with the penknife, and was ordered to bring
+wine and sandwiches. Lumley then conversed lightly on different matters
+till the wine appeared; he was rather surprised to observe Cesarini
+pour out and drink off glass upon glass, with an evident craving for the
+excitement. When he had satisfied himself, he turned his dark eyes to
+Ferrers, and said, "You have news to communicate--I see it in your brow.
+I am now ready to hear all."
+
+"Well, then listen to me; you were right in your suspicions; jealousy
+is ever a true diviner. I make no doubt Othello was quite right, and
+Desdemona was no better than she should be. Maltravers has proposed to
+my cousin; and been accepted."
+
+Cesarini's complexion grew perfectly ghastly; his whole frame shook like
+a leaf--for a moment he seemed paralysed.
+
+"Curse him!" said he, at last, drawing a deep breath, and betwixt his
+grinded teeth--"curse him, from the depths of the heart he has broken!"
+
+"And after such a letter to you!--do you remember it?--here it is. He
+warns you against Lady Florence, and then secures her to himself--is
+this treachery?"
+
+"Treachery black as hell! I am an Italian," cried Cesarini, springing to
+his feet, and with all the passions of his climate in his face, "and
+I will be avenged! Bankrupt in fortune, ruined in hopes, blasted in
+heart--I have still the godlike consolation of the desperate--I have
+revenge."
+
+"Will you call him out?" asked Lumley, musingly and calmly. "Are you
+a dead shot? If so, it is worth thinking about; if not, it is a
+mockery--your shot misses, his goes in the air, seconds interpose, and
+you both walk away devilish glad to get off so well. Duels are humbug."
+
+"Mr. Ferrers," said Cesarini, fiercely, "this is not a matter of jest."
+
+"I do not make it a jest; and what is more, Cesarini," said Ferrers,
+with a concentrated energy far more commanding than the Italian's
+fury, "what is more, I so detest Maltravers, I am so stung by his cold
+superiority, so wroth with his success, so loathe the thought of his
+alliance, that I would cut off this hand to frustrate that marriage! I
+do not jest, man; but I have method and sense in my hatred--it is our
+English way."
+
+Cesarini stared at the speaker gloomily, clenched his hand, and strode
+rapidly to and fro the room.
+
+"You would be avenged, so would I. Now what shall be the means?" said
+Ferrers.
+
+"I will stab him to the heart--I will--"
+
+"Cease these tragic flights. Nay, frown and stamp not; but sit down, and
+be reasonable, or leave me and act for yourself."
+
+"Sir," said Cesarini, with an eye that might have alarmed a man less
+resolute than Ferrers, "have a care how you presume on my distress."
+
+"You are in distress, and you refuse relief; you are bankrupt in
+fortune, and you rave like a poet, when you should be devising and
+plotting for the attainment of boundless wealth. Revenge and ambition
+may both be yours; but they are prizes never won but by a cautious foot
+as well as a bold hand."
+
+"What would you have me do? and what but his life would content me?"
+
+"Take his life if you can--I have no objection--go and take it; only
+just observe this, that if you miss your aim, or he, being the stronger
+man, strike you down, you will be locked up in a madhouse for the next
+year or two at least; and that is not the place in which I should like
+to pass the winter--but as you will."
+
+"You!--you!--But what are you to me? I will go. Good day, sir."
+
+"Stay a moment," said Ferrers, when he saw Cesarini about to leave the
+room; "stay, take this chair, and listen to me--you had better--"
+
+Cesarini hesitated, and then, as it were, mechanically obeyed.
+
+"Read that letter which Maltravers wrote to you. You have
+finished--well--now observe--if Florence sees that letter she will not
+and cannot marry the man who wrote it--you must show it to her."
+
+"Ah, my guardian angel, I see it all! Yes, there are words in this
+letter no woman so proud could ever pardon. Give me it again, I will go
+at once."
+
+"Pshaw! You are too quick; you have not remarked that this letter was
+written five months ago, before Maltravers knew much of Lady Florence.
+He himself has confessed to her that he did not then love her--so much
+the more would she value the conquest she has now achieved. Florence
+would smile at this letter, and say, 'Ah, he judges me differently
+now.'"
+
+"Are you seeking to madden me? What do you mean? Did you not just now
+say that, did she see that letter, she would never marry the writer?"
+
+"Yes, yes, but the letter must be altered. We must erase the date;--we
+must date it from to-day;--to-day--Maltravers returns to-day. We must
+suppose it written, not in answer to a letter from you, demanding his
+advice and opinion as to your marriage with Lady Florence, but in answer
+to a letter of yours in which you congratulate him on his approaching
+marriage to her. By the substitution of one pronoun for another, in two
+places, the letter will read as well one way as another. Read it again,
+and see; or stop, I will be the lecturer."
+
+Here Ferrers read over the letter, which, by the trifling substitutions
+he proposed, might indeed bear the character he wished to give it.
+
+"Does the light break in upon you now?" said Ferrers. "Are you prepared
+to go through a part that requires subtlety, delicacy, address, and,
+above all, self-control?--qualities that are the common attributes of
+your countrymen."
+
+"I will do all, fear me not. It may be villainous, it may be base; but I
+care not, Maltravers shall not rival, master, eclipse me in all things."
+
+"Where are you lodging?"
+
+"Where?--out of town a little way."
+
+"Take up your home with me for a few days. I cannot trust you out of my
+sight. Send for your luggage; I have a room at your service."
+
+Cesarini at first refused; but a man who resolves on a crime feels the
+awe of solitude, and the necessity of a companion. He went himself to
+bring his effects, and promised to return to dinner.
+
+"I must own," said Lumley, resettling himself at his desk, "this is the
+dirtiest trick that ever I played; but the glorious end sanctifies
+the paltry means. After all, it is the mere prejudice of gentlemanlike
+education."
+
+A very few seconds, and with the aid of the knife to erase, and the
+pen to re-write, Ferrers completed his task, with the exception of the
+change of date, which, on second thoughts, he reserved as a matter to be
+regulated by circumstances.
+
+"I think I have hit off his _m_'s and _y_'s tolerably," said he,
+"considering I was not brought up to this sort of thing. But the
+alteration would be visible on close inspection. Cesarini must read
+the letter to her, then if she glances over it herself it will be with
+bewildered eyes and a dizzy brain. Above all, he must not leave it with
+her, and must bind her to the closest secresy. She is honourable and
+will keep her word; and so now that matter is settled. I have just time
+before dinner to canter down to my uncle's and wish the old fellow joy."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+ "And then my lord has much that he would state
+  All good to you."--CRABBE: _Tales of the Heart_.
+
+LORD VARGRAVE was sitting alone in his library, with his account-books
+before him. Carefully did he cast up the various sums which, invested
+in various speculations, swelled his income. The result seemed
+satisfactory--and the rich man threw down his pen with an air of
+triumph.
+
+"I will invest L120,000 in land--only L120,000. I will not be tempted to
+sink more. I will have a fine house--a house fitting for a nobleman--a
+fine old Elizabethan house--a house of historical interest. I must have
+woods and lakes--and a deer-park, above all. Deer are very gentlemanlike
+things, very. De Clifford's place is to be sold, I know; they ask too
+much for it, but ready money is tempting. I can bargain--bargain, I am
+a good hand at a bargain. Should I be now Lord Baron Vargrave, if I had
+always given people what they asked? I will double my subscriptions
+to the Bible Society and the Philanthropic, and the building of new
+churches. The world shall not say Richard Templeton does not deserve his
+greatness. I will--Come in. Who's there?--come in."
+
+The door gently opened--the meek face of the new peeress appeared. "I
+disturb you--I beg your pardon--I--"
+
+"Come in, my dear, come in--I want to talk to you--I want to talk to
+your ladyship--sit down, pray."
+
+Lady Vargrave obeyed.
+
+"You see," said the peer, crossing his legs, and caressing his left foot
+with both hands, while he see-sawed his stately person to and fro in
+his chair--"you see that the honour conferred upon me will make a great
+change in our mode of life, Mrs. Temple--I mean Lady Vargrave. This
+villa is all very well--my country house is not amiss for a country
+gentleman--but now we must support our rank. The landed estate I already
+possess will go with the title--go to Lumley--I shall buy another at
+my own disposal, one that I can feel _thoroughly mine_--it shall be a
+splendid place, Lady Vargrave."
+
+"This place is splendid to me," said Lady Vargrave, timidly.
+
+"This place--nonsense--you must learn loftier ideas, Lady Vargrave; you
+are young, you can easily contract new habits, more, easily, perhaps,
+than myself. You are naturally ladylike, though I say it--you have good
+taste, you don't talk much, you don't show your ignorance--quite right.
+You must be presented at court, Lady Vargrave--we must give great
+dinners, Lady Vargrave. Balls are sinful, so is the opera, at least I
+fear so--yet an opera-box would be a proper appendage to your rank, Lady
+Vargrave."
+
+"My dear Mr. Templeton--"
+
+"Lord Vargrave, if your ladyship pleases."
+
+"I beg pardon. May you live long to enjoy your honours; but I, my dear
+lord--I am not fit to share them: it is only in our quiet life that
+I can forget what--what I was. You terrify me when you talk of
+court--of--"
+
+"Stuff, Lady Vargrave! stuff; we accustom ourselves to these things. Do
+I look like a man who has stood behind a counter? rank is a glove that
+stretches to the hand that wears it. And the child, dear child,--dear
+Evelyn, she shall be the admiration of London, the beauty, the heiress,
+the--oh, she will do me honour!"
+
+"She will, she will!" said Lady Vargrave, and the tears gushed from her
+eyes.
+
+Lord Vargrave was softened.
+
+"No mother ever deserved more from a child than you from Evelyn."
+
+"I would hope I have done my duty," said Lady Vargrave, drying her
+tears.
+
+"Papa, papa!" cried an impatient voice, tapping at the window, "come and
+play, papa--come and play at ball, papa!"
+
+And there, by the window, stood that beautiful child, glowing with
+health and mirth--her light hair tossed from her forehead, her sweet
+mouth dimpled with smiles.
+
+"My darling, go on the lawn,--don't over-exert yourself--you have not
+quite recovered that horrid sprain--I will join you immediately--bless
+you!"
+
+"Don't be long, papa--nobody plays so nicely as you do;" and, nodding
+and laughing from very glee, away scampered the young fairy. Lord
+Vargrave turned to his wife.
+
+"What think you of my nephew--of Lumley?" said he, abruptly.
+
+"He seems all that is amiable, frank, and kind."
+
+Lord Vargrave's brow became thoughtful. "I think so too," he said, after
+a short pause; "and I hope you will approve of what I mean to do. You
+see Lumley was brought up to regard himself as my heir--I owe something
+to him, beyond the poor estate which goes with, but never can adequately
+support, _my_ title. Family honours, hereditary rank, must be properly
+regarded. But that dear girl--I shall leave her the bulk of my fortune.
+Could we not unite the fortune and the title? It would secure the rank
+to her, it would incorporate all my desires--all my duties."
+
+"But," said Lady Vargrave, with evident surprise, "if I understand you
+rightly, the disparity of years--"
+
+"And what then, what then, Lady Vargrave? Is there no disparity of years
+between _us_?--a greater disparity than between Lumley and that tall
+girl. Lumley is a mere youth, a youth still, five-and-thirty; he will
+be little more than forty when they marry; I was between fifty and sixty
+when I married you, Lady Vargrave. I don't like boy and girl marriages:
+a man should be older than his wife. But you are so romantic, Lady
+Vargrave. Besides, Lumley is so gay and good-looking, and wears so well.
+He has been very nearly forming another attachment; but that, I trust,
+is out of his head now. They must like each other. You will not gainsay
+me, Lady Vargrave, and if anything happens to me--life is uncertain--"
+
+"Oh, do not speak so--my friend, my benefactor!"
+
+"Why, indeed," resumed his lordship, mildly, "thank Heaven, I am very
+well--feel younger than ever I did--but still life is uncertain; and
+if you survive me, you will not throw obstacles in the way of my grand
+scheme?"
+
+"I--no,--no--of course you have the right in all things over her
+destiny; but so young--so soft-hearted, if she should love one of her
+own years--"
+
+"Love!--pooh! love does not come into girls' heads unless it is put
+there. We will bring her up to love Lumley. I have another reason--a
+cogent one--our secret!--to him it can be confided--it should not go out
+of our family. Even in my grave I could not rest if a slur were cast on
+my respectability--my name."
+
+Lord Vargrave spoke solemnly and warmly; then muttering to himself,
+"Yes, it is for the best," he took up his hat and quitted the room. He
+joined his stepchild on the lawn. He romped with her--he played with
+her--that stiff, stately man!--he laughed louder than she did, and ran
+almost as fast. And when she was fatigued and breathless, he made her
+sit down beside him, in a little summer-house, and, fondly stroking down
+her disordered tresses, said, "You tire me out, child; I am growing too
+old to play with you. Lumley must supply my place. You love Lumley?"
+
+"Oh, dearly, he is so good-humoured, so kind: he has given me such a
+beautiful doll, with such eyes!"
+
+"You shall be his little wife--you would like to be his little wife?"
+
+"Wife! why, poor mamma is a wife, and she is not so happy as I am."
+
+"Your mamma has bad health, my dear," said Lord Vargrave, a little
+discomposed. "But it is a fine thing to be a wife and have a carriage of
+your own, and a fine house, and jewels, and plenty of money, and be your
+own mistress; and Lumley will love you dearly."
+
+"Oh, yes, I should like all that."
+
+"And you will have a protector, child, when I am no more."
+
+The tone, rather than the words, of her stepfather struck a damp into
+that childish heart. Evelyn lifted her eyes, gazed at him earnestly, and
+then, throwing her arms round him, burst into tears.
+
+Lord Vargrave wiped his own eyes, and covered her with kisses.
+
+"Yes, you shall be Lumley's wife, his honoured wife, heiress to my rank
+as to my fortunes."
+
+"I will do all that papa wishes."
+
+"You will be Lady Vargrave, then, and Lumley will be your husband," said
+the stepfather, impressively. "Think over what I have said. Now let us
+join mamma. But, as I live, here is Lumley himself. However, it is not
+yet the time to sound him:--I hope that he has no chance with that Lady
+Florence."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+          "Fair encounter
+  Of two most rare affections."--_Tempest_.
+
+MEANWHILE the betrothed were on their road to London. The balmy and
+serene beauty of the day had induced them to perform the short journey
+on horseback. It is somewhere said, that lovers are never so handsome as
+in each other's company, and neither Florence nor Ernest ever looked so
+well as on horseback. There was something in the stateliness and grace
+of both, something even in the aquiline outline of their features and
+the haughty bend of the neck, that made a sort of likeness between these
+young persons, although there was no comparison as to their relative
+degrees of personal advantage: the beauty of Florence defied all
+comparison. And as they rode from Cleveland's porch, where the other
+guests yet lingering were assembled to give the farewell greeting, there
+was a general conviction of the happiness destined to the affianced
+ones,--a general impression that both in mind and person they were
+eminently suited to each other. Their position was that which is ever
+interesting, even in more ordinary people, and at that moment they were
+absolutely popular with all who gazed on them; and when the good old
+Cleveland turned away with tears in his eyes and murmured "Bless them!"
+there was not one of the party who would have hesitated to join the
+prayer.
+
+Florence felt a nameless dejection as she quitted a spot so consecrated
+by grateful recollections.
+
+"When shall we be again so happy?" said she, softly, as she turned back
+to gaze upon the landscape, which, gay with flowers and shrubs, and the
+bright English verdure, smiled behind them like a garden.
+
+"We will try and make my old hall, and its gloomy shades, remind us of
+these fairer scenes, my Florence."
+
+"Ah! describe to me the character of your place. We shall live there
+principally, shall we not? I am sure I shall like it much better than
+Marsden Court, which is the name of that huge pile of arches and columns
+in Vanbrugh's heaviest taste, which will soon be yours."
+
+"I fear we shall never dispose of all your mighty retinue, grooms of the
+chamber, and Patagonian footmen, and Heaven knows who besides, in the
+holes and corners of Burleigh," said Ernest smiling. And then he went
+on to describe the old place with something of a well-born country
+gentleman's not displeasing pride; and Florence listened, and they
+planned, and altered, and added, and improved, and laid out a map for
+the future. From that topic they turned to another, equally interesting
+to Florence. The work in which Maltravers had been engaged was
+completed, was in the hands of the printer, and Florence amused herself
+with conjectures as to the criticisms it would provoke. She was certain
+that all that had most pleased her would be _caviare_ to the multitude.
+She never would believe that any one could understand Maltravers but
+herself. Thus time flew on till they passed that part of the road in
+which had occurred Ernest's adventure with Mrs. Templeton's daughter.
+Maltravers paused abruptly in the midst of his glowing periods, as
+the spot awakened its associations and reminiscences, and looked
+round anxiously and inquiringly. But the fair apparition was not again
+visible; and whatever impression the place produced, it gradually died
+away as they entered the suburbs of the great metropolis. Two other
+gentlemen and a young lady of thirty-three (I had almost forgotten
+them) were of the party, but they had the tact to linger a little behind
+during the greater part of the road, and the young lady, who was a wit
+and a flirt, found gossip and sentiment for both the cavaliers.
+
+"Will you come to us this evening?" asked Florence, timidly.
+
+"I fear I shall not be able. I have several matters to arrange before
+I leave town for Burleigh, which I must do next week. Three months,
+dearest Florence, will scarcely suffice to make Burleigh put on its best
+looks to greet its new mistress; and I have already appointed the great
+modern magicians of draperies and ormolu to consult how we may make
+Aladdin's palace fit for the reception of the new princess. Lawyers,
+too!--in short, I expect to be fully occupied. But to-morrow, at three,
+I shall be with you, and we can ride out, if the day be fine."
+
+"Surely," said Florence, "yonder is Signor Cesarini--how haggard and
+altered he appears!"
+
+Maltravers, turning his eyes towards the spot to which Florence pointed,
+saw Cesarini emerging from a lane, with a porter behind him carrying
+some books and a trunk. The Italian, who was talking and gesticulating
+as to himself, did not perceive them.
+
+"Poor Castruccio! he seems leaving his lodging," thought Maltravers. "By
+this time I fear he will have spent the last sum I conveyed to him--I
+must remember to find him out and replenish his stores.--Do not forget,"
+said he aloud, "to see Cesarini, and urge him to accept the appointment
+we spoke of."
+
+"I will not forget it--I will see him to-morrow before we meet. Yet it
+is a painful task, Ernest."
+
+"I allow it. Alas! Florence, you owe him some reparation. He undoubtedly
+once conceived himself entitled to form hopes the vanity of which his
+ignorance of our English world and his foreign birth prevented him from
+suspecting."
+
+"Believe me, I did not give him the right to form such expectations."
+
+"But you did not sufficiently discourage them. Ah, Florence, never
+underrate the pangs of hope crushed, of love contemned."
+
+"Dreadful!" said Florence, almost shuddering. "It is strange, but my
+conscience never so smote me before. It is since I loved that I feel,
+for the first time, how guilty a creature is--"
+
+"A coquette!" interrupted Maltravers. "Well, let us think of the past no
+more; but if we can restore a gifted man, whose youth promised much,
+to an honourable independence and a healthful mind, let us do so. Me,
+Cesarini never can forgive; he will think I have robbed him of you. But
+we men--the woman we have once loved, even after she rejects us, ever
+has some power over us, and your eloquence, which has so often roused
+me, cannot fail to impress a nature yet more excitable."
+
+Maltravers, on quitting Florence at her own door, went home, summoned
+his favourite servant, gave him Cesarini's address at Chelsea, bade him
+find out where he was, if he had left his lodgings; and leave at his
+present home, or (failing its discovery) at the "Travellers," a cover,
+which he made his servant address, inclosing a bank-note of some amount.
+If the reader wonder why Maltravers thus constituted himself the unknown
+benefactor of the Italian, I must tell him that he does not understand
+Maltravers. Cesarini was not the only man of letters whose faults he
+pitied, whose wants he relieved. Though his name seldom shone in the
+pompous list of public subscriptions--though he disdained to affect the
+Maecenas and the patron, he felt the brotherhood of mankind, and a kind
+of gratitude for those who aspired to rise or to delight their species.
+An author himself, he could appreciate the vast debt which the world
+owes to authors, and pays but by calumny in life and barren laurels
+after death. He whose profession is the Beautiful succeeds only
+through the Sympathies. Charity and compassion are virtues taught with
+difficulty to ordinary men; to true genius they are but the instincts
+which direct it to the destiny it is born to fulfil-viz., the discovery
+and redemption of new tracts in our common nature. Genius--the Sublime
+Missionary--goes forth from the serene Intellect of the Author to live
+in the wants, the griefs, the infirmities of others, in order that it
+may learn their language; and as its highest achievement is Pathos, so
+its most absolute requisite is Pity!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+ "_Don John._ How canst thou cross this marriage?
+
+ "_Borachio._ Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly, that no
+  dishonesty shall appear in me, my lord."--_Much Ado about Nothing_.
+
+FERRERS and Cesarini were both sitting over their wine, and both had
+sunk into silence, for they had only one subject in common, when a note
+was brought to Lumley from Lady Florence.--"This is lucky enough!" said
+he, as he read it. "Lady Florence wishes to see you, and incloses me a
+note for you, which she asks me to address and forward to you. There it
+is."
+
+Cesarini took the note with trembling hands: it was very short, and
+merely expressed a desire to see him the next day at two o'clock.
+
+"What can it be?" he exclaimed; "can she want to apologise, to explain?"
+
+"No, no, no! Florence will not do that; but, from certain words she
+dropped in talking with me, I guess that she has some offer to your
+worldly advantage to propose to you. Ha! by the way, a thought strikes
+me."
+
+Lumley eagerly rang the bell. "Is Lady Florence's servant waiting for an
+answer?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Very well--detain him."
+
+"Now, Cesarini, assurance is made doubly sure. Come into the next
+room. There, sit down at my desk, and write, as I shall dictate, to
+Maltravers."
+
+"I!"
+
+"Yes, now do put yourself in my hands--write, write. When you have
+finished, I will explain."
+
+Cesarini obeyed, and the letter was as follows:
+
+
+"DEAR MALTRAVERS,
+
+"I have learned your approaching marriage with Lady Florence Lascelles.
+Permit me to congratulate you. For myself, I have overcome a vain and
+foolish passion; and can contemplate your happiness without a sigh.
+
+"I have reviewed all my old prejudices against marriage, and believe it
+to be a state which nothing but the most perfect congeniality of temper,
+pursuits, and minds, can render bearable. How rare is such congeniality!
+In your case it may exist. The affections of that beautiful being are
+doubtless ardent--and they are yours!
+
+"Write me a line by the bearer to assure me of your belief in my
+sincerity.
+
+   "Yours,
+
+     "C. CESARINI."
+
+
+"Copy out this letter, I want its ditto--quick. Now seal and direct the
+duplicate," continued Ferrers; "that's right; go into the hall, give it
+yourself to Lady Florence's servant, and beg him to take it to Seamore
+Place, wait for an answer, and bring it here; by which time you will
+have a note ready for Lady Florence. Say I will mention this to her
+ladyship, and give the man half-a-crown. There, begone."
+
+"I do not understand a word of this," said Cesarini, when he returned:
+"will you explain?"
+
+"Certainly; the copy of the note you have despatched to Maltravers I
+shall show to Lady Florence this evening, as a proof of your sobered
+and generous feelings; observe, it is so written, that the old letter of
+your rival may seem an exact reply to it. To-morrow a reference to this
+note of yours will bring out our scheme more easily; and if you follow
+my instructions, you will not seem to _volunteer_ showing our handiwork,
+as we at first intended; but rather to yield it to her eyes, from
+a generous impulse, from an irresistible desire to save her from an
+unworthy husband and a wretched fate. Fortune has been dealing our cards
+for us, and has turned up the ace. Three to one now on the odd trick.
+Maltravers, too, is at home. I called at his house, on returning from my
+uncle's, and learned that he would not stir out all the evening."
+
+In due time came the answer from Ernest: it was short and hurried; but
+full of all the manly kindness of his nature; it expressed admiration
+and delight at the tone of Cesarini's letter; it revoked all former
+expressions derogatory to Lady Florence; it owned the harshness and
+error of his first impressions; it used every delicate argument that
+could soothe and reconcile Cesarini; and concluded by sentiments of
+friendship and desire of service, so cordial, so honest, so free from
+the affectation of patronage, that even Cesarini himself, half insane as
+he was with passion, was almost softened. Lumley saw the change in his
+countenance--snatched the letter from his hand--read it--threw it into
+the fire--and saying, "We must guard against accidents," clapped the
+Italian affectionately on the shoulder, and added, "Now you can have no
+remorse; for a more Jesuitical piece of insulting hypocritical cant I
+never read. Where's your note to Lady Florence? Your compliments, you
+will be with her at two. There, now the rehearsal's over, the scenes
+arranged, and I'll dress, and open the play for you with a prologue."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+       "Aestuat ingens
+  Imo in corde pudor, mixtoque insania luctu,
+  Et furiis agitatus amor, et conscia virtus."*--VIRGIL.
+
+* Deep in her inmost heart is stirred the immense shame, and madness
+with commingled grief, and love agitated by rage, and conscious virtue.
+
+THE next day, punctual to his appointment, Cesarini repaired to his
+critical interview with Lady Florence. Her countenance, which, like
+that of most persons whose temper is not under their command, ever too
+faithfully expressed what was within, was unusually flushed. Lumley
+had dropped words and hints which had driven sleep from her pillow and
+repose from her mind.
+
+She rose from her seat with nervous agitation as Cesarini entered and
+made his grave salutation. After a short and embarrassed pause, she
+recovered, however, her self-possession, and with all a woman's delicate
+and dexterous tact, urged upon the Italian the expediency of accepting
+the offer of honourable independence now extended to him.
+
+"You have abilities," she said, in conclusion, "you have friends, you
+have youth; take advantage of those gifts of nature and fortune, and
+fulfil such a career as," added Lady Florence, with a smile, "Dante did
+not consider incompatible with poetry."
+
+"I cannot object to any career," said Cesarini, with an effort, "that
+may serve to remove me from a country that has no longer any charms for
+me. I thank you for your kindness; I will obey you. May you be happy;
+and yet--no, ah! no--happy you must be! Even he, sooner or later, must
+see you with my eyes."
+
+"I know," replied Florence, falteringly, "that you have wisely and
+generously mastered a past illusion. Mr. Ferrers allowed me to see the
+letter you wrote to Er---to Mr. Maltravers; it was worthy of you:
+it touched me deeply; but I trust you will outlive your prejudices
+against--"
+
+"Stay," interrupted Cesarini; "did Ferrers communicate to you the answer
+to that letter?"
+
+"No, indeed."
+
+"I am glad of it."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh, no matter. Heaven bless you; farewell."
+
+"No; I implore you, do not go yet; what was there in that letter that it
+could pain me to see? Lumley hinted darkly; but would not speak out: be
+more frank."
+
+"I cannot: it would be treachery to Maltravers, cruelty to you; yet
+would it be cruel?"
+
+"No, it would not; it would be kindness and mercy; show me the
+letter--you have it with you."
+
+"You could not bear it; you would hate me for the pain it would give
+you. Let me depart."
+
+"Man, you wrong Maltravers. I see it now. You would darkly slander him
+whom you cannot openly defame. Go; I was wrong to listen to you--go!"
+
+"Lady Florence, beware how you taunt me into undeceiving you. Here is
+the letter, it is his handwriting; will you read it? I warn you not."
+
+"I will believe nothing but the evidence of my own eyes; give it me."
+
+"Stay then; on two conditions. First, that you promise me sacredly that
+you will not disclose to Maltravers, without my consent, that you have
+seen this letter. Think not I fear his anger. No! but in the mortal
+encounter that must ensue, if you thus betray me, your character would
+be lowered in the world's eyes, and even I (my excuse unknown) might
+not appear to have acted with honour in obeying your desire, and warning
+you, while there is yet time, of bartering love for avarice. Promise
+me."
+
+"I do, I do most solemnly."
+
+"Secondly, assure me that you will not ask to keep the letter, but will
+immediately restore it to me."
+
+"I promise it. Now then."
+
+"Take the letter."
+
+Florence seized and rapidly read the fatal and garbled document: her
+brain was dizzy, her eyes clouded, her ears rang as with the sound of
+water, she was sick and giddy with emotion; but she read enough. This
+letter was written, then, in answer to Castruccio's of last night; it
+avowed dislike of her character; it denied the sincerity of her love;
+it more than hinted the mercenary nature of his own feelings. Yes, even
+there, where she had garnered up her heart, she was not Florence,
+the lovely and beloved woman; but Florence, the wealthy and high-born
+heiress. The world which she had built upon the faith and heart of
+Maltravers crumbled away at her feet. The letter dropped from her hands;
+her whole form seemed to shrink and shrivel up; her teeth were set, and
+her cheek was as white as marble.
+
+"O God!" cried Cesarini, stung with remorse. "Speak to me, speak to
+me, Florence! I did wrong; forget that hateful letter! I have been
+false--false!"
+
+"Ah, false--say so again--no, no, I remember he told me--he, so wise,
+so deep a judge of human character, that he would be sponsor for your
+faith--, that your honour and heart were incorruptible. It is true; I
+thank you--you have saved me from a terrible fate."
+
+"O, Lady Florence, dear--too dear--yet, would that--alas! she does not
+listen to me," muttered Castruccio, as Florence, pressing her hands to
+her temples, walked wildly to and fro the room. At length she paused
+opposite to Cesarini, looked him full in the face, returned him the
+letter without a word, and pointed to the door.
+
+"No, no, do not bid me leave you yet," said Cesarini, trembling with
+repentant emotion, yet half beside himself with jealous rage at her love
+for his rival.
+
+"My friend, go," said Florence, in a tone of voice singularly subdued
+and soft. "Do not fear me; I have more pride in me than even affection;
+but there are certain struggles in a woman's breast which she could
+never betray to any one--any one but a mother. God help me, I have none!
+Go; when next we meet, I shall be calm."
+
+She held out her hand as she spoke, the Italian dropped on his knee,
+kissed it convulsively, and, fearful of trusting himself further,
+vanished from the room.
+
+He had not been long gone before Maltravers was seen riding through the
+street. As he threw himself from his horse, he looked up at the window,
+and kissed his hand at Lady Florence, who stood there watching his
+arrival, with feelings indeed far different from those he anticipated.
+He entered the room lightly and gaily.
+
+Florence stirred not to welcome him. He approached and took her hand;
+she withdrew it with a shudder.
+
+"Are you not well, Florence?"
+
+"I am well, for I have recovered."
+
+"What do you mean? why do you turn from me?"
+
+Lady Florence fixed her eyes on him, eyes that literally blazed; her lip
+quivered with scorn.
+
+"Mr. Maltravers, at length I know you. I understand the feelings with
+which you have sought a union between us. O God! why, why was I thus
+cursed with riches--why made a thing of barter and merchandise, and
+avarice, and low ambition? Take my wealth, take it, Mr. Maltravers,
+since that is what you prize. Heaven knows I can cast it willingly away;
+but leave the wretch whom you long deceived, and who now, wretch though
+she be, renounces and despises you!"
+
+"Lady Florence, do I hear aright? Who has accused me to you?"
+
+"None, sir, none; I would have believed none. Let it suffice that I
+am convinced that our union can be happy to neither: question me no
+further; all intercourse between us is for ever over!"
+
+"Pause," said Maltravers, with cold and grave solemnity; "another word,
+and the gulf will become impassable. Pause."
+
+"Do not," exclaimed the unhappy lady, stung by what she considered
+the assurance of a hardened hypocrisy--"do not affect this haughty
+superiority; it dupes me no longer. I was your slave while I loved you:
+the tie is broken. I am free, and I hate and scorn you! Mercenary and
+sordid as you are, your baseness of spirit revives the differences of
+our rank. Henceforth, Mr. Maltravers, I am Lady Florence Lascelles, and
+by that title alone will you know me. Begone, Sir!"
+
+As she spoke, with passion distorting every feature of her face, all
+her beauty vanished away from the eyes of the proud Maltravers, as if
+by witchcraft: the angel seemed transformed into the fury; and cold,
+bitter, and withering was the eye which he fixed upon that altered
+countenance.
+
+"Mark me, Lady Florence Lascelles," said he, very calmly, "you have now
+said what you can never recall. Neither in man nor in woman did Ernest
+Maltravers ever forget or forgive a sentence which accused him of
+dishonour. I bid you farewell for ever; and with my last words I condemn
+you to the darkest of all dooms--the remorse that comes too late!"
+Slowly he moved away; and as the door closed upon that towering and
+haughty form, Florence already felt that his curse was working to its
+fulfilment. She rushed to the window--she caught one last glimpse of him
+as his horse bore him rapidly away. Ah! when shall they meet again?
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+ "And now I live--O wherefore do I live?
+  And with that pang I prayed to be no more."
+          WORDSWORTH.
+
+IT was about nine o'clock that evening, and Maltravers was alone in
+his room. His carriage was at the door--his servants were arranging
+the luggage--he was going that night to Burleigh. London--society-the
+world--were grown hateful to him. His galled and indignant spirit
+demanded solitude. At this time, Lumley Ferrers entered.
+
+"You will pardon my intrusion," said the latter, with his usual
+frankness--"but--"
+
+"But what, sir? I am engaged."
+
+"I shall be very brief. Maltravers, you are my old friend. I retain
+regard and affection for you, though our different habits have of late
+estranged us. I come to you from my cousin--from Florence--there has
+been some misunderstanding between you. I called on her to-day after you
+left the house. Her grief affected me. I have only just quitted her.
+She has been told by some gossip or other some story or other--women are
+credulous, foolish creatures;--undeceive her, and, I dare say, all may
+be settled."
+
+"Ferrers, if a man had spoken to me as Lady Florence did, his blood
+or mine must have flowed. And do you think that words that might have
+plunged me into the guilt of homicide if uttered by a man, I could ever
+pardon in one whom I had dreamed of for a wife? Never!"
+
+"Pooh, pooh--women's words are wind. Don't throw away so splendid a
+match for such a trifle."
+
+"Do you too, sir, mean to impute mercenary motives to me?"
+
+"Heaven forbid! You know I am no coward, but I really don't want to
+fight you. Come, be reasonable."
+
+"I dare say you mean well, but the breach is final--all recurrence to it
+is painful and superfluous. I must wish you good evening."
+
+"You have positively decided?"
+
+"I have."
+
+"Even if Lady Florence made the _amende honorable_?"
+
+"Nothing on the part of Lady Florence could alter my resolution. The
+woman whom an honourable man--an English gentleman--makes the partner of
+his life, ought never to listen to a syllable against his fair name: his
+honour is hers, and if her lips, that should breathe comfort in calumny,
+only serve to retail the lie--she may be beautiful, gifted, wealthy, and
+high-born, but he takes a curse to his arms. That curse I have escaped."
+
+"And this I am to say to my cousin?"
+
+"As you will. And now stay, Lumley Ferrers, and hear me. I neither
+accuse nor suspect you, I desire not to pierce your heart, and in this
+case I cannot fathom your motives; but if it should so have happened
+that you have, in any way, ministered to Lady Florence Lascelles'
+injurious opinions of my faith and honour, you will have much to answer
+for, and sooner or later there will come a day of reckoning between you
+and me."
+
+"Mr. Maltravers, there can be no quarrel between us, with my cousin's
+fair name at stake, or else we should not now part without preparations
+for a more hostile meeting. I can bear your language. _I_, too, though
+no philosopher, can forgive. Come, man, you are heated--it is very
+natural;--let us part friends--your hand."
+
+"If you can take my hand, Lumley, you are innocent, and I have wronged
+you."
+
+Lumley smiled, and cordially pressed the hand of his old friend.
+
+As he descended the stairs, Maltravers followed, and just as Lumley
+turned into Curzon Street, the carriage whirled rapidly past him, and by
+the lamps he saw the pale and stern face of Maltravers.
+
+It was a slow, drizzling rain,--one of those unwholesome nights frequent
+in London towards the end of autumn. Ferrers, however, insensible to the
+weather, walked slowly and thoughtfully towards his cousin's house. He
+was playing for a mighty stake, and hitherto the cast was in his favour,
+yet he was uneasy and perturbed. His conscience was tolerably proof to
+all compunction, as much from the levity as from the strength of his
+nature; and (Maltravers removed) he trusted in his knowledge of the
+human heart, and the smooth speciousness of his manner, to win, at last,
+in the hand of Lady Florence, the object of his ambition. It was not
+on her affection, it was on her pique, her resentment, that he relied.
+"When a woman fancies herself slighted by the man she loves, the first
+person who proposes must be a clumsy wooer indeed, if he does not carry
+her away." So reasoned Ferrers, but yet he was ruffled and disquieted;
+the truth must be spoken,--able, bold, sanguine, and scornful as he was,
+his spirit quailed before that of Maltravers; he feared the lion of that
+nature when fairly aroused: his own character had in it something of a
+woman's--an unprincipled, gifted, aspiring, and subtle woman's,--and
+in Maltravers--stern, simple, and masculine--he recognised the
+superior dignity of the "lords of the creation;" he was overawed by the
+anticipation of a wrath and revenge which he felt he merited, and which
+he feared might be deadly.
+
+While gradually, however, his spirit recovered its usual elasticity,
+he came in the vicinity of Lord Saxingham's house, and suddenly, by
+a corner of the street, his arm was seized: to his inexpressible
+astonishment he recognised in the muffled figure that accosted him the
+form of Florence Lascelles.
+
+"Good heavens!" he cried, "is it possible?--You, alone in the streets,
+at this hour, in such a night, too! How very wrong--how very imprudent!"
+
+"Do not talk to me--I am almost mad as it is: I could not rest--I could
+not brave quiet, solitude,--still less, the face of my father--I
+could not!--but quick, what says he?--What excuse has he? Tell me
+everything--I will cling to a straw."
+
+"And is this the proud Florence Lascelles?"
+
+"No,--it is the humbled Florence Lascelles. I have done with
+pride--speak to me!"
+
+"Ah, what a treasure is such a heart! How can he throw it away?"
+
+"Does he deny?"
+
+"He denies nothing--he expresses himself rejoiced to have escaped--such
+was his expression--a marriage in which his heart never was engaged. He
+is unworthy of you--forget him."
+
+Florence shivered, and as Ferrers drew her arm in his own, her ungloved
+hand touched his, and the touch was like that of ice.
+
+"What will the servants think?--what excuse can we make?" said Ferrers,
+when they stood beneath the porch. Florence did not reply; but as the
+door opened, she said softly,--
+
+"I am ill--ill," and clung to Ferrers with that unnerved and heavy
+weight which betokens faintness.
+
+The light glared on her--the faces of the lacqueys betokened their
+undisguised astonishment. With a violent effort, Florence recovered
+herself, for she had not yet done with pride, swept through the hall
+with her usual stately step, slowly ascended the broad staircase, and
+gained the solitude of her own room, to fall senseless on the floor.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK IX.
+
+  I go, the bride of Acheron.--SOPH. _Antig._
+
+  These things are in the Future.--_Ib._ 1333.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+  * * * "There the action lies
+  In its true nature * * * *
+  * * *  What then? What rests?
+  Try what repentance can!"--_Hamlet_.
+
+ "I doubt he will be dead or ere I come."--_King John_.
+
+IT was a fine afternoon in December, when Lumley Ferrers turned from
+Lord Saxingham's door. The knockers were muffled--the windows on the
+third story were partially closed. There was sickness in that house.
+
+Lumley's face was unusually grave; it was even sad. "So young--so
+beautiful," he muttered. "If ever I loved woman, I do believe I loved
+her:--that love must be my excuse.... I repent of what I have done--but
+I could not foresee that a mere lover's stratagem was to end in such
+effects--the metaphysician was very right when he said, 'We only
+sympathise with feelings we know ourselves.' A little disappointment in
+love could not have hurt me much--it is d----d odd it should hurt her
+so. I am altogether out of luck: old Templeton--I beg his pardon, Lord
+Vargrave--(by-the-by, he gets heartier every day--what a constitution he
+has!) seems cross with me. He did not like the idea that I should marry
+Lady Florence--and when I thought that vision might have been realised,
+hinted that I was disappointing some expectations he had formed; I can't
+make out what he means. Then, too, the government have offered that
+place to Maltravers instead of to me. In fact, my star is not in the
+ascendant. Poor Florence, though,--I would really give a great deal
+to know her restored to health!--I have done a villainous thing, but I
+thought it only a clever one. However, regret is a fool's passion. By
+Jupiter!--talking of fools, here comes Cesarini."
+
+Wan, haggard, almost spectral, his hat over his brows, his dress
+neglected, his air reckless and fierce, Cesarini crossed the way, and
+thus accosted Lumley:
+
+"We have murdered her, Ferrers; and her ghost will haunt us to our dying
+day!"
+
+"Talk prose; you know I am no poet. What do you mean?"
+
+"She is worse to-day," groaned Cesarini, in a hollow voice. "I wander
+like a lost spirit round the house; I question all who come from it.
+Tell me--oh, tell me, is there hope?"
+
+"I do, indeed, trust so," replied Ferrers, fervently. "The illness has
+only of late assumed an alarming appearance. At first it was merely a
+severe cold, caught by imprudent exposure one rainy night. Now they fear
+it has settled on the lungs; but if we could get her abroad, all might
+be well."
+
+"You think so, honestly?"
+
+"I do. Courage, my friend; do not reproach yourself; it has nothing to
+do with us. She was taken ill of a cold, not of a letter, man!"
+
+"No, no; I judge her heart by my own. Oh, that I could recall the past!
+Look at me; I am the wreck of what I was; day and night the recollection
+of my falsehood haunts me with remorse."
+
+"Pshaw!--we will go to Italy together, and in your beautiful land love
+will replace love."
+
+"I am half resolved, Ferrers."
+
+"Ha!--to do what?"
+
+"To write--to reveal all to her."
+
+The hardy complexion of Ferrers grew livid; his brow became dark with a
+terrible expression.
+
+"Do so, and fall the next day by my hand; my aim in slighter quarrel
+never erred."
+
+"Do you dare to threaten me?"
+
+"Do you dare to betray me? Betray one who, if he sinned, sinned on your
+account--in your cause; who would have secured to you the loveliest
+bride, and the most princely dower in England; and whose only offence
+against you is that he cannot command life and health?"
+
+"Forgive me," said the Italian, with great emotion,--"forgive me, and
+do not misunderstand; I would not have betrayed _you_--there is honour
+among villains. I would have confessed only my own crime; I would never
+have revealed yours--why should I?--it is unnecessary."
+
+"Are you in earnest--are you sincere?"
+
+"By my soul!"
+
+"Then, indeed, you are worthy of my friendship. You will assume the
+whole forgery--an ugly word, but it avoids circumlocution--to be your
+own?"
+
+"I will."
+
+Ferrers paused a moment, and then stopped suddenly short.
+
+"You will swear this!"
+
+"By all that is holy."
+
+"Then mark me, Cesarini; if to-morrow Lady Florence be worse, I will
+throw no obstacle in the way of your confession, should you resolve to
+make it; I will even use that influence which you leave me, to palliate
+your offence, to win your pardon. And yet to resign your hopes--to
+surrender one so loved to the arms of one so hated--it is
+magnanimous--it is noble--it is above my standard! Do as you will."
+
+Cesarini was about to reply, when a servant on horseback abruptly
+turned the corner, almost at full speed. He pulled in--his eye fell upon
+Lumley--he dismounted.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Ferrers," said the man breathlessly, "I have been to your
+house; they told me I might find you at Lord Saxingham's--I was just
+going there--"
+
+"Well, well, what is the matter?"
+
+"My poor master, sir--my lord, I mean--"
+
+"What of him?"
+
+"Had a fit, sir--the doctors are with him--my mistress--for my lord
+can't speak--sent me express for you."
+
+"Lend me your horse--there, just lengthen the stirrups."
+
+While the groom was engaged at the saddle, Ferrers turned to Cesarini.
+"Do nothing rashly," said he; "I would say, if I might, nothing at
+all, without consulting me; but mind, I rely, at all events, on your
+promise--your oath."
+
+"You may," said Cesarini, gloomily.
+
+"Farewell, then," said Lumley, as he mounted; and in a few moments he
+was out of sight.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+ "O world, thou wast the forest to this hart,
+
+   * * * * *
+
+  Dost thou here lie?"--_Julius Caesar_.
+
+AS Lumley leapt from his horse at his uncle's door, the disorder and
+bustle of those demesnes, in which the severe eye of the master usually
+preserved a repose and silence as complete as if the affairs of life
+were carried on by clockwork, struck upon him sensibly. Upon the trim
+lawn the old women employed in cleaning and weeding the walks were all
+assembled in a cluster, shaking their heads ominously in concert, and
+carrying on their comments in a confused whisper. In the hall, the
+housemaid (and it was the first housemaid whom Lumley had ever seen in
+that house, so invisibly were the wheels of the domestic machine carried
+on) was leaning on her broom, "swallowing with open mouth a footman's
+news." It was as if, with the first slackening of the rigid rein, human
+nature broke loose from the conventual stillness in which it had ever
+paced its peaceful path in that formal mansion.
+
+"How is he?"
+
+"My lord is better, sir; he has spoken, I believe."
+
+At this moment a young face, swollen and red with weeping, looked down
+from the stairs; and presently Evelyn rushed breathlessly into the hall.
+
+"Oh, come up--come up--cousin Lumley; he cannot, cannot die in your
+presence; you always seem so full of life! He cannot die; you do not
+think he will die? Oh, take me with you, they won't let me go to him!"
+
+"Hush, my dear little girl, hush; follow me lightly--that is right."
+
+Lumley reached the door, tapped gently--entered; and the child also
+stole in unobserved or at least unprevented. Lumley drew aside the
+curtains; the new lord was lying on his bed, with his head propped by
+pillows, his eyes wide open, with a glassy, but not insensible stare,
+and his countenance fearfully changed.
+
+Lady Vargrave was kneeling on the other side of the bed, one hand
+clasped in her husband's, the other bathing his temples, and her tears
+falling, without sob or sound, fast and copiously down her pale fair
+cheeks.
+
+Two doctors were conferring in the recess of the window; an apothecary
+was mixing drugs at a table; and two of the oldest female servants of
+the house were standing near the physicians, trying to overhear what was
+said.
+
+"My dear, dear uncle, how are you?" asked Lumley.
+
+"Ah, you are come, then," said the dying man, in a feeble yet distinct
+voice; "that is well--I have much to say to you."
+
+"But not now--not now--you are not strong enough," said the wife,
+imploringly.
+
+The doctors moved to the bedside. Lord Vargrave waved his hand, and
+raised his head.
+
+"Gentlemen," said he, "I feel as if death were hastening upon me; I
+have much need, while my senses remain, to confer with my nephew. Is
+the present a fitting time?--if I delay, are you sure that I shall have
+another?"
+
+The doctors looked at each other.
+
+"My lord," said one, "it may perhaps settle and relieve your mind
+to converse with your nephew; afterwards you may more easily compose
+yourself to sleep."
+
+"Take this cordial, then," said the other doctor.
+
+The sick man obeyed. One of the physicians approached Lumley, and
+beckoned him aside.
+
+"Shall we send for his lordship's lawyer?" whispered the leech.
+
+"I am his heir-at-law," thought Lumley. "Why, _no_, my dear sir--no, I
+think not, unless he expresses a desire to see him; doubtless my poor
+uncle has already settled his worldly affairs. What is his state?"
+
+The doctor shook his head. "I will speak to you, sir, after you have
+left his lordship."
+
+"What is the matter there?" cried the patient, sharply and querulously.
+"Clear the room--I would be alone with my nephew."
+
+The doctors disappeared; the old women reluctantly followed; when,
+suddenly, the little Evelyn sprang forward and threw herself on the
+breast of the dying man, sobbing as if her heart would break.
+
+"My poor child!--my sweet child--my own, own darling!" gasped out Lord
+Vargrave, folding his weak arms round her; "bless you--bless you! and
+God will bless you. My wife," he added, with a voice far more tender
+than Lumley had ever before heard him address to Lady Vargrave, "if
+these be the last words I utter to you, let them express all the
+gratitude I feel for you, for duties never more piously discharged:
+you did not love me, it is true; and in health and pride that knowledge
+often made me unjust to you. I have been severe--you have had much to
+bear--forgive me."
+
+"Oh! do not talk thus; you have been nobler, kinder than my deserts. How
+much I owe you--how little I have done in return!"
+
+"I cannot bear this; leave me, my dear, leave me. I may live yet--I hope
+I may--I do not want to die. The cup may pass from me. Go--go--and you,
+my child."
+
+"Ah, let _me_ stay."
+
+Lord Vargrave kissed the little creature, as she clung to his neck, with
+passionate affection, and then, placing her in her mother's arms, fell
+back exhausted on his pillow. Lumley, with handkerchief to his eyes,
+opened the door to Lady Vargrave, who sobbed bitterly, and carefully
+closing it, resumed his station by his uncle.
+
+When Lumley Ferrers left the room, his countenance was gloomy and
+excited rather than sad. He hurried to the room which he usually
+occupied, and remained there for some hours while his uncle slept--a
+long and sound sleep. But the mother and the stepchild (now restored to
+the sick-room) did not desert their watch.
+
+It wanted about an hour to midnight, when the senior physician sought
+the nephew.
+
+"Your uncle asks for you, Mr. Ferrers; and I think it right to say that
+his last moments approach. We have done all that can be done."
+
+"Is he fully aware of his danger?"
+
+"He is; and has spent the last two hours in prayer--it is a Christian's
+death-bed, sir."
+
+"Humph!" said Ferrers, as he followed the physician. The room was
+darkened--a single lamp, carefully shaded, burned on a table, on which
+lay the Book of Life in Death: and with awe and grief on their faces,
+the mother and the child were kneeling beside the bed.
+
+"Come here, Lumley," faltered forth the fast-dying man.
+
+"There are none here but you three--nearest and dearest to me?--That is
+well. Lumley, then, you know all--my wife, he knows all. My child, give
+your hand to your cousin--so you are now plighted. When you grow up,
+Evelyn, you will know that it is my last wish and prayer that you should
+be the wife of Lumley Ferrers. In giving you this angel, Lumley, I atone
+to you for all seeming injustice. And to you, my child, I secure the
+rank and honours to which I have painfully climbed, and which I am
+forbidden to enjoy. Be kind to her, Lumley--you have a good and frank
+heart--let it be her shelter--she has never known a harsh word. God
+bless you all, and God forgive me--pray for me. Lumley, to-morrow you
+will be Lord Vargrave, and by and by" (here a ghastly, but exultant
+smile flitted over the speaker's countenance), "you will be my
+Lady--Lady Vargrave. Lady--so--so--Lady Var--"
+
+The words died on his trembling lips; he turned round, and, though he
+continued to breathe for more than an hour, Lord Vargrave never uttered
+another syllable.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+        "Hopes and fears
+  Start up alarmed, and o'er life's narrow verge
+  Look down--on what?--a fathomless abyss."--YOUNG.
+
+ "Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adieu!"
+        _Much Ado about Nothing_.
+
+THE wound which Maltravers had received was peculiarly severe and
+rankling. It is true that he had never been what is called violently in
+love with Florence Lascelles; but from the moment in which he had been
+charmed and surprised into the character of a declared suitor, it was
+consonant with his scrupulous and loyal nature to view only the bright
+side of Florence's gifts and qualities, and to seek to enamour his
+grateful fancy with her beauty, her genius, and her tenderness for
+himself. He had thus forced and formed his thoughts and hopes to centre
+all in one object; and Florence and the Future had grown words which
+conveyed the same meaning to his mind. Perhaps he felt more bitterly
+her sudden and stunning accusations, couched as they were in language so
+unqualified, because they fell upon his pride rather than his affection,
+and were not softened away by the thousand excuses and remembrances
+which a passionate love would have invented and recalled. It was a deep,
+concentrated sense of injury and insult, that hardened and soured his
+whole nature--wounded vanity, wounded pride, and wounded honour.
+
+And the blow, too, came upon him at a time when he was most dissatisfied
+with all other prospects. He was disgusted with the littleness of the
+agents and springs of political life--he had formed a weary contempt
+for the barrenness of literary reputation. At thirty years of age he had
+necessarily outlived the sanguine elasticity of early youth, and he
+had already broken up many of those later toys in business and ambition
+which afford the rattle and the hobby-borse to our maturer manhood.
+Always asking for something too refined and too exalted for human life,
+every new proof of unworthiness in men and things saddened or revolted
+a mind still too fastidious for that quiet contentment with the world
+as it is, which we must all learn before we can make our philosophy
+practical and our genius as fertile of the harvest as it may be prodigal
+of the blossom. Haughty, solitary, and unsocial, the ordinary resources
+of mortified and disappointed men were not for Ernest Maltravers.
+Rigidly secluded in his country retirement, he consumed the days in
+moody wanderings; and in the evenings he turned to books with a spirit
+disdainful and fatigued. So much had he already learned, that books
+taught him little that he did not already know. And the biographies of
+authors, those ghost-like beings who seem to have had no life but in
+the shadow of their own haunting and imperishable thoughts, dimmed the
+inspiration he might have caught from their pages. Those slaves of the
+Lamp, those Silkworms of the Closet, how little had they enjoyed, how
+little had they lived! Condemned to a mysterious fate by the wholesale
+destinies of the world, they seemed born but to toil and to spin
+thoughts for the common crowd--and, their task performed in drudgery and
+in darkness, to die when no further service could be wrung from their
+exhaustion. Names had they been in life, and as names they lived for
+ever, in life as in death, airy and unsubstantial phantoms. It pleased
+Maltravers at this time to turn a curious eye towards the obscure and
+half-extinct philosophies of the ancient world. He compared the Stoics
+with the Epicureans--those Epicureans who had given their own version to
+the simple and abstemious utilitarianism of their master. He asked which
+was the wiser, to sharpen pain or to deaden pleasure--to bear all or to
+enjoy all; and, by a natural reaction which often happens to us in life,
+this man, hitherto so earnest, active-spirited, and resolved on great
+things, began to yearn for the drowsy pleasures of indolence. The
+garden grew more tempting than the porch. He seriously revolved the old
+alternative of the Grecian demi-god--might it not be wiser to abandon
+the grave pursuits to which he had been addicted, to dethrone the
+august but severe ideal in his heart, to cultivate the light loves and
+voluptuous trifles of the herd, and to plant the brief space of youth
+yet left to him with the myrtle and the rose? As water flows over
+water, so new schemes rolled upon new--sweeping away every momentary
+impression, and leaving the surface facile equally to receive and to
+forget. Such is the common state with men of imagination in those crises
+of life, when some great revolution of designs and hopes unsettles
+elements too susceptible of every changing wind. And thus the weak
+are destroyed, while the strong relapse, after terrible but unknown
+convulsions, into that solemn harmony and order from which destiny and
+God draw their uses to mankind.
+
+It was from this irresolute contest between antagonist principles that
+Maltravers was aroused by the following letter from Florence Lascelles:
+
+
+"For three days and three sleepless nights I have debated with myself
+whether or not I ought to address you. Oh, Ernest, were I what I was,
+in health, in pride, I might fear that, generous as you are, you would
+misconstrue my appeal; but that is now impossible. Our union never can
+take place, and my hopes bound themselves to one sweet and melancholy
+hope, that you will remove from my last hours the cold and dark shadow
+of your resentment. We have both been cruelly deceived and betrayed.
+Three days ago I discovered the perfidy that has been practised against
+us. And then, ah! then, with all the weak human anguish of discovering
+it too late (_your curse is fulfilled_, Ernest!), I had at least one
+moment of proud, of exquisite rapture. Ernest Maltravers, the hero of my
+dreams, stood pure and lofty as of old--a thing it was not unworthy to
+love, to mourn, to die for. A letter in your handwriting had been
+shown to me, garbled and altered, as it seems--but I detected not
+the imposture--it was yourself, yourself alone, brought in false and
+horrible witness against yourself! And could you think that any other
+evidence, the words, the oaths of others, would have convicted you in
+my eyes? There you wronged me. But I deserved it--I had bound myself to
+secrecy--the seal is taken from my lips in order to be set upon my tomb.
+Ernest, beloved Ernest--beloved till the last breath is extinct--till
+the last throb of this heart is stilled--write me one word of comfort
+and of pardon. You will believe what I have imperfectly written, for
+you ever trusted my faith, if you have blamed my faults. I am now
+comparatively happy--a word from you will, make me blest. And Fate
+has, perhaps, been more merciful to both, than in our shortsighted and
+querulous human vision, we might, perhaps, believe; for now that the
+frame is brought low--and in the solitude of my chamber I can duly and
+humbly commune with mine own heart, I see the aspect of those faults
+which I once mistook for virtues--and feel that, had we been united, I,
+loving you ever, might not have constituted your happiness, and so have
+known the misery of losing your affection. May He who formed you for
+glorious and yet all unaccomplished purposes strengthen you, when these
+eyes can no longer sparkle at your triumphs, or weep at your lightest
+sorrow. You will go on in your broad and luminous career:--a few years,
+and my remembrance will have left but the vestige of a dream behind.
+But, but--I can write no more. God bless you!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+ "Oh, stop this headlong current of your goodness;
+  It comes too fast upon a feeble soul."
+        DRYDEN: _Sebastian and Doras_.
+
+THE smooth physician had paid his evening visit; Lord Saxingham had gone
+to a cabinet dinner, for Life must ever walk side by side with Death:
+and Lady Florence Lascelles was alone. It was a room adjoining her
+sleeping-apartment--a room in which, in the palmy days of the brilliant
+and wayward heiress, she had loved to display her fanciful and peculiar
+taste. There had she been accustomed to muse, to write, to study--there
+had she first been dazzled by the novel glow of Ernest's undiurnal and
+stately thoughts--there had she first conceived the romance of girlhood,
+which had led her to confer with him, unknown--there had she first
+confessed to herself that fancy had begotten love--there had she gone
+through love's short and exhausting process of lone emotion;--the
+doubt, the hope, the ecstasy; the reverse, the terror; the inanimate
+despondency, the agonised despair! And there now, sadly and patiently,
+she awaited the gradual march of inevitable decay. And books and
+pictures, and musical instruments, and marble busts, half shadowed
+by classic draperies--and all the delicate elegancies of womanly
+refinement--still invested the chamber with a grace as cheerful as if
+youth and beauty were to be the occupants for ever--and the dark and
+noisome vault were not the only lasting residence for the things of
+clay.
+
+Florence Lascelles was dying; but not indeed wholly of that common,
+if mystic malady, a broken heart. Her health, always delicate, because
+always preyed upon by a nervous, irritable, and feverish spirit, had
+been gradually and invisibly undermined, even before Ernest confessed
+his love. In the singular lustre of those large-pupilled eyes--in the
+luxuriant transparency of that glorious bloom,--the experienced might
+long since have traced the seeds which cradled death. In the night
+when her restless and maddened heart so imprudently drove her forth to
+forestall the communication of Lumley (whom she had sent to Maltravers,
+she scarce knew for what object, or with what hope), in that night she
+was already in a high state of fever. The rain and the chill struck the
+growing disease within--her excitement gave it food and fire--delirium
+succeeded; and in that most fearful and fatal of all medical errors,
+which robs the frame, when it most needs strength, of the very principle
+of life, they had bled her into a temporary calm, and into permanent and
+incurable weakness. Consumption seized its victim. The physicians who
+attended her were the most renowned in London, and Lord Saxingham was
+firmly persuaded that there was no danger. It was not in his nature
+to think that death would take so great a liberty with Lady Florence
+Lascelles, when there were so many poor people in the world whom there
+would be no impropriety in removing from it. But Florence knew her
+danger, and her high spirit did not quail before it. Yet, when Cesarini,
+stung beyond endurance by the horrors of his remorse, wrote and
+confessed all his own share of the fatal treason, though, faithful to
+his promise, he concealed that of his accomplice,--then, ah then, she
+did indeed repine at her doom, and long to look once more with the eyes
+of love and joy upon the face of the beautiful world. But the illness of
+the body usually brings out a latent power and philosophy of the soul,
+which health never knows; and God has mercifully ordained it as the
+customary lot of nature, that in proportion as we decline into the
+grave, the sloping path is made smooth and easy to our feet; and every
+day, as the films of clay are removed from our eyes, Death loses the
+false aspect of the spectre, and we fall at last into its arms as a
+wearied child upon the bosom of its mother.
+
+It was with a heavy heart that Lady Florence listened to the monotonous
+clicking of the clock that announced the departure of moments few, yet
+not precious, still spared to her. Her face buried in her hands, she
+bent over the small table beside her sofa, and indulged her melancholy
+thoughts. Bowed was the haughty crest, unnerved the elastic shape that
+had once seemed born for majesty and command--no friends were near,
+for Florence had never made friends. Solitary had been her youth, and
+solitary were her dying hours.
+
+As she thus sat and mused, a sound of carriage wheels in the street
+below slightly shook the room--it ceased--the carriage stopped at the
+door. Florence looked up. "No, no, it cannot be," she muttered; yet,
+while she spoke, a faint flush passed over her sunken and faded cheek,
+and the bosom heaved beneath the robe, "a world too wide for its shrunk"
+proportions. There was a silence, which to her seemed interminable, and
+she turned away with a deep sigh, and a chill sinking of the heart.
+
+At this time her woman entered with a meaning and flurried look.
+
+"I beg your pardon, my lady--but--"
+
+"But what?"
+
+"Mr. Maltravers has called, and asked for your ladyship--so, my lady,
+Mr. Burton sent for me, and I said, my lady is too unwell to see any
+one; but Mr. Maltravers would not be denied; and he is waiting in my
+lord's library, and insisted on my coming up and 'nouncing him, my
+lady."
+
+Now Mrs. Shinfield's words were not euphonistic, nor her voice
+mellifluous; but never had eloquence seemed to Florence so effective.
+Youth, love, beauty, all rushed back upon her at once, brightening her
+eyes, her cheek, and filling up ruin with sudden and deceitful light.
+
+"Well," she said, after a pause, "let Mr. Maltravers come up."
+
+"Come up, my lady? Bless me!--let me just 'range your hair--your
+ladyship is really in such dish-a-bill."
+
+"Best as it is, Shinfield--he will excuse all.--Go."
+
+Mrs. Shinfield shrugged her shoulders, and departed. A few moments
+more--a step on the stairs, the creaking of the door,--and Maltravers
+and Florence were again alone. He stood motionless on the threshold. She
+had involuntarily risen, and so they stood opposite to each other, and
+the lamp fell full upon her face. Oh, Heaven! when did that sight cease
+to haunt the heart of Maltravers! When shall that altered aspect not
+pass as a ghost before his eyes!--there it is, faithful and reproachful
+alike in solitude and in crowds--it is seen in the glare of noon--it
+passes dim and wan at night beneath the stars and the earth--it looked
+into his heart and left its likeness there for ever and for ever!
+Those cheeks, once so beautifully rounded, now sunken into lines and
+hollows--the livid darkness beneath the eyes--the whitened lip--the
+sharp, anxious, worn expression, which had replaced that glorious and
+beaming regard from which all the life of genius, all the sweet pride of
+womanhood had glowed forth, and in which not only the intelligence, but
+the eternity of the soul, seemed visibly wrought.
+
+There he stood, aghast and appalled. At length a low groan broke from
+his lips--he rushed forward, sank on his knees beside her, and clasping
+both her hands, sobbed aloud as he covered them with kisses. All the
+iron of his strong nature was broken down, and his emotions, long
+silenced, and now uncontrollable and resistless, were something terrible
+to behold!
+
+"Do not--do not weep so," murmured Lady Florence, frightened by his
+vehemence; "I am sadly changed, but the fault is mine--Ernest, it is
+mine; best, kindest, gentlest, how could I have been so mad! And you
+forgive me? I am yours again--a little while yours. Ah, do not grieve
+while I am so blessed!"
+
+As she spoke, her tears--tears from a source how different from that
+whence broke the scorching and intolerable agony of his own! fell soft
+upon his bended head, and the hands that still convulsively strained
+hers. Maltravers looked wildly up into her countenance, and shuddered
+as he saw her attempt to smile. He rose abruptly, threw himself into
+a chair, and covered his face. He was seeking by a violent effort to
+master himself, and it was only by the heaving of his chest, and now and
+then a gasp as for breath, that he betrayed the stormy struggle within.
+
+Florence gazed at him a moment in bitter, in almost selfish penitence.
+"And this was the man who seemed to me so callous to the softer
+sympathies--this was the heart I trampled upon--this the nature I
+distrusted!"
+
+She came near him, trembling and with feeble steps--she laid her hand
+upon his shoulder, and the fondness of love came over her, and she wound
+her arms around him.
+
+"It is our fate--it is my fate," said Maltravers at last, awaking as
+from a hideous dream, and in a hollow but calm voice--"we are the things
+of destiny, and the wheel has crushed us. It is an awful state of
+being this human life!--What is wisdom--virtue--faith to men--piety to
+Heaven--all the nurture we bestow on ourselves--all our desire to win
+a loftier sphere, when we are thus the tools of the merest chance--the
+victims of the pettiest villainy; and our very existence--our very
+senses almost, at the mercy of every traitor and every fool!"
+
+There was something in Ernest's voice, as well as in his reflections,
+which appeared so unnaturally calm and deep that it startled Florence,
+with a fear more acute than his previous violence had done. He rose,
+and muttering to himself, walked to and fro, as if insensible of her
+presence--in fact he was so. At length he stopped short, and fixing his
+eyes upon Lady Florence, said in a whispered and thrilling tone:
+
+"Now, then, the name of our undoer?"
+
+"No, Ernest, no--never, unless you promise me to forego the purpose
+which I read in your eyes. He has confessed--he is penitent--I have
+forgiven him--you will do so too!"
+
+"His name!" repeated Maltravers, and his face, before very flushed, was
+unnaturally pale.
+
+"Forgive him--promise me."
+
+"His name, I say,--his name?"
+
+"Is this kind?--you terrify me--you will kill me!" faltered out
+Florence, and she sank on the sofa exhausted: her nerves, now so
+weakened, were perfectly unstrung by his vehemence, and she wrung her
+hands and wept piteously.
+
+"You will not tell me his name?" said Maltravers, softly. "Be it so. I
+will ask no more. I can discover it myself. Fate the Avenger will reveal
+it."
+
+At the thought he grew more composed; and as Florence wept on, the
+unnatural concentration and fierceness of his mind again gave way,
+and, seating himself beside her, he uttered all that could soothe, and
+comfort, and console. And Florence was soon soothed! And there, while
+over their heads the grim skeleton was holding the funeral pall, they
+again exchanged their vows, and again, with feelings fonder than of old,
+spoke of love.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+        "Erichtho, then,
+  Breathes her dire murmurs, which enforce him bear
+  Her baneful secrets to the spirits of horror."--MARLOWE.
+
+WITH a heavy step Maltravers ascended the stairs of his lonely house
+that night, and heavily, with a suppressed groan, did he sink upon the
+first chair that proffered rest.
+
+It was intensely cold. During his long interview with Lady Florence, his
+servant had taken the precaution to go to Seamore Place, and make
+some hasty preparations for the owner's return. But the bedroom looked
+comfortless and bare, the curtains were taken down, the carpets were
+taken up (a single man's housekeeper is wonderfully provident in these
+matters; the moment his back is turned, she bustles, she displaces, she
+exults; "things can be put a little to rights!"). Even the fire would
+not burn clear, but gleamed sullen and fitful from the smothering fuel.
+It was a large chamber, and the lights imperfectly filled it. On
+the table lay parliamentary papers, and pamphlets, and bills and
+presentation-books from younger authors--evidences of the teeming
+business of that restless machine the world. But of all this Maltravers
+was not sensible: the winter frost numbed not his feverish veins. His
+servant, who loved him, as all who saw much of Maltravers did, fidgeted
+anxiously about the room, and plied the sullen fire, and laid out the
+comfortable dressing-robe, and placed wine on the table, and asked
+questions which were not answered, and pressed service which was not
+heeded. The little wheels of life go on, even when the great wheel is
+paralysed or broken. Maltravers was, if I may so express it, in a kind
+of mental trance. His emotions had left him thoroughly exhausted. He
+felt that torpor which succeeds and is again the precursor of great woe.
+At length he was alone, and the solitude half unconsciously restored
+him to the sense of his heavy misery. For it may be observed, that
+when misfortune has stricken us home, the presence of any one seems to
+interfere between the memory and the heart. Withdraw the intruder, and
+the lifted hammer falls at once upon the anvil! He rose as the door
+closed on his attendant--rose with a start, and pushed the hat from his
+gathered brows. He walked for some moments to and fro, and the air of
+the room, freezing as it was, oppressed him.
+
+There are times when the arrow quivers within us--in which all space
+seems too confined. Like the wounded hart, we could fly on for ever;
+there is a vague desire of escape--a yearning, almost insane, to get out
+from our own selves: the soul struggles to flee away, and take the wings
+of the morning.
+
+Impatiently, at last, did Maltravers throw open his window; it
+communicated with a balcony, built out to command the wide view which,
+from a certain height, that part of the park affords. He stepped into
+the balcony and bared his breast to the keen air. The uncomfortable and
+icy heavens looked down upon the hoar-rime that gathered over the grass,
+and the ghostly boughs of the deathlike trees. All things in the world
+without brought the thought of the grave, and the pause of being,
+and the withering up of beauty, closer and closer to his soul. In the
+palpable and griping winter, death itself seemed to wind around him
+its skeleton and joyless arms. And as thus he stood, and, wearied with
+contending against, passively yielded to, the bitter passions that
+wrung and gnawed his heart,--he heard not a sound at the door--nor
+the footsteps on the stairs--nor knew he that a visitor was in his
+room--till he felt a hand upon his shoulder, and turning round, he
+beheld the white and livid countenance of Castruccio Cesarini.
+
+"It is a dreary night and a solemn hour, Maltravers," said the Italian,
+with a distorted smile--"a fitting night and time for my interview with
+you."
+
+"Away!" said Maltravers, in an impatient tone. "I am not at leisure for
+these mock heroics."
+
+"Ay, but you shall hear me to the end. I have watched your arrival--I
+have counted the hours in which you remained with her--I have followed
+you home. If you have human passions, humanity itself must be dried
+up within you, and the wild beast in his cavern is not more fearful
+to encounter. Thus, then, I seek and brave you. Be still. Has Florence
+revealed to you the name of him who belied you, and who betrayed herself
+to the death?"
+
+"Ha!" said Maltravers, growing very pale, and fixing his eyes on
+Cesarini, "you are not the man--my suspicions lighted elsewhere."
+
+"I am the man. Do thy worst."
+
+Scarce were the words uttered, when, with a fierce cry, Maltravers threw
+himself on the Italian;--he tore him from his footing--he grasped him in
+his arms as a child--he literally whirled him around and on high; and in
+that maddening paroxysm, it was, perhaps, but the balance of a feather,
+in the conflicting elements of revenge and reason, which withheld
+Maltravers from hurling the criminal from the fearful height on which
+they stood. The temptation passed--Cesarini leaned safe, unharmed, but
+half senseless with mingled rage and fear, against the wall.
+
+He was alone--Maltravers had left him--had fled from himself--fled into
+the chamber--fled for refuge from human passions to the wing of the
+All-Seeing and All-Present. "Father," he groaned, sinking on his knees,
+"support me, save me: without Thee I am lost."
+
+Slowly Cesarini recovered himself, and re-entered the apartment. A
+string in his brain was already loosened, and, sullen and ferocious,
+he returned again to goad the lion that had spared him. Maltravers had
+already risen from his brief prayer. With locked and rigid countenance,
+with arms folded on his breast, he stood confronting the Italian,
+who advanced towards him with a menacing brow and arm, but halted
+involuntarily at the sight of that commanding aspect.
+
+"Well, then," said Maltravers at last, with a tone preternaturally calm
+and low, "you then are the man. Speak on--what arts did you employ?"
+
+"Your own letter. When, many months ago, I wrote to tell you of the
+hopes it was mine to conceive, and to ask your opinion of her I loved,
+how did you answer me? With doubts, with depreciation, with covert and
+polished scorn, of the very woman whom, with a deliberate treachery, you
+afterwards wrested from my worshipping and adoring love. That letter I
+garbled. I made the doubts you expressed of my happiness seem doubts of
+your own. I changed the dates--I made the letter itself appear written,
+not on your first acquaintance with her, but subsequent to your plighted
+and accepted vows. Your own handwriting convicted you of mean suspicions
+and of sordid motives. These were my arts."
+
+"They were most noble. Do you abide by them--or repent?"
+
+"For what I have done to _thee_ I have no repentance. Nay, I regard thee
+still as the aggressor. Thou hast robbed me of her who was all the world
+to me--and, be thine excuses what they may, I hate thee with a hate that
+cannot slumber--that abjures the abject name of remorse! I exult in the
+very agonies thou endurest. But for her--the stricken--the dying! O God,
+O God! The blow falls upon mine own head!"
+
+"Dying!" said Maltravers, slowly and with a shudder. "No, no--not
+dying--or what art thou? Her murderer! And what must I be? Her avenger!"
+
+Overpowered with his own passions, Cesarini sank down and covered his
+face with his clasped hands. Maltravers stalked gloomily to and fro the
+apartment. There was silence for some moments.
+
+At length Maltravers paused opposite Cesarini and thus addressed him:
+
+"You have come hither not so much to confess the basest crime of which
+man can be guilty, as to gloat over my anguish and to brave me to
+revenge my wrongs. Go, man, go--for the present you are safe. While she
+lives, my life is not mine to hazard--if she recover, I can pity you
+and forgive. To me your offence, foul though it be, sinks below contempt
+itself. It is the consequences of that crime as they relate to--to--that
+noble and suffering woman, which can alone raise the despicable into
+the tragic and make your life a worthy and a necessary offering--not to
+revenge, but justice:--life for life--victim for victim! 'Tis the old
+law--'tis a righteous one."
+
+"You shall not, with your accursed coldness, thus dispose of me as you
+will, and arrogate the option to smite or save! No," continued Cesarini,
+stamping his foot--"no; far from seeking forbearance at your hands--I
+dare and defy you! You think I have injured you--I, on the other hand,
+consider that the wrong has come from yourself. But for you, she might
+have loved me--have been mine. Let that pass. But for you, at least, it
+is certain that I should neither have sullied my soul with a vile sin,
+nor brought the brightest of human beings to the grave. If she dies, the
+murder may be mine, but you were the cause--the devil that tempted to
+the offence. I defy and spit upon you--I have no softness left in me--my
+veins are fire--my heart thirsts for blood. You--you--have still the
+privilege to see--to bless--to tend her:--and I--I, who loved her
+so--who could have kissed the earth she trod on--I--well, well, no
+matter--I hate you--I insult you--I call you villain and dastard--I
+throw myself on the laws of honour, and I demand that conflict you defer
+or deny!"
+
+"Home, doter--home--fall on thy knees, and pray to Heaven for
+pardon--make up thy dread account--repine not at the days yet thine to
+wash the black spot from thy soul. For, while I speak, I foresee too
+well that her days are numbered, and with her thread of life is entwined
+thine own. Within twelve hours from her last moment, we shall meet
+again: but now I am as ice and stone,--thou canst not move me. Her
+closing life shall not be darkened by the aspect of blood--by the
+thought of the sacrifice it demands. Begone, or menials shall cast thee
+from my door: those lips are too base to breathe the same air as honest
+men. Begone, I say, begone!"
+
+Though scarce a muscle moved in the lofty countenance of
+Maltravers--though no frown darkened the majestic brow--though no fire
+broke from the steadfast and scornful eye--there was a kingly authority
+in the aspect, in the extended arm, the stately crest, and a power in
+the swell of the stern voice, which awed and quelled the unhappy being
+whose own passions exhausted and unmanned him. He strove to fling back
+scorn to scorn, but his lips trembled, and his voice died in hollow
+murmurs within his breast. Maltravers regarded him with a crushing
+and intense disdain. The Italian with shame and wrath wrestled against
+himself, but in vain: the cold eye that was fixed upon him was as a
+spell, which the fiend within him could not rebel against or resist.
+Mechanically he moved to the door,--then turning round, he shook his
+clenched hand at Maltravers, and, with a wild, maniacal laugh, rushed
+from the apartment.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+ "On some fond breast the parting soul relies."--GRAY.
+
+NOT a day passed in which Maltravers was absent from the side of
+Florence. He came early, he went late. He subsided into his former
+character of an accepted suitor, without a word of explanation with Lord
+Saxingham. That task was left to Florence. She doubtless performed it
+well, for his lordship seemed satisfied though grave, and, almost for
+the first time in his life, sad. Maltravers never reverted to the cause
+of their unhappy dissension. Nor from that night did he once give way
+to whatever might be his more agonised and fierce emotions--he never
+affected to reproach himself--he never bewailed with a vain despair
+their approaching separation. Whatever it cost him, he stood collected
+and stoical in the intense power of his self control. He had but
+one object, one desire, one hope--to save the last hours of Florence
+Lascelles from every pang--to brighten and smooth the passage across
+the Solemn Bridge. His forethought, his presence of mind, his care,
+his tenderness, never forsook him for an instant: they went beyond
+the attributes of men, they went into all the fine, the indescribable
+minutiae by which woman makes herself, "in pain and anguish," the
+"ministering angel." It was as if he had nerved and braced his whole
+nature to one duty--as if that duty were more felt than affection
+itself--as if he were resolved that Florence should not remember that
+_she had no mother_!
+
+And, oh, then, how Florence loved him! how far more luxurious, in its
+grateful and clinging fondness, was that love, than the wild and jealous
+fire of their earlier connection! Her own character, as is often the
+case in lingering illness, became incalculably more gentle and softened
+down, as the shadows closed around it. She loved to make him read and
+talk to her--and her ancient poetry of thought now grew mellowed, as
+it were, into religion, which is indeed poetry with a stronger wing....
+There was a world beyond the grave--there was life out of the chrysalis
+sleep of death--they would yet be united. And Maltravers, who was a
+solemn and intense believer in the GREAT HOPE, did not neglect the
+purest and highest of all the fountains of solace.
+
+Often in that quiet room, in that gorgeous mansion, which had been the
+scene of all vain or worldly schemes--of flirtations and feastings,
+and political meetings and cabinet dinners, and all the bubbles of the
+passing wave--often there did these persons, whose position to each
+other had been so suddenly and so strangely changed--converse on those
+matters--daring and divine--which "make the bridal of the earth and
+sky."
+
+"How fortunate am I," said Florence, one day, "that my choice fell on
+one who thinks as you do! How your words elevate and exalt me!--yet once
+I never dreamt of asking your creed on these questions. It is in
+sorrow or sickness that we learn why Faith was given as a soother to
+man--Faith, which is Hope with a holier name--hope that knows neither
+deceit nor death. Ah, how wisely do you speak of the _philosophy_ of
+belief! It is, indeed, the telescope through which the stars grow large
+upon our gaze. And to you, Ernest, my beloved--comprehended and known
+at last--to you I leave, when I am gone, that monitor--that friend; you
+will know yourself what you teach to me. And when you look not on the
+heaven alone but in all space--on all the illimitable creation, you will
+know that I am there! For the home of a spirit is wherever spreads the
+Universal Presence of God. And to what numerous stages of being, what
+paths, what duties, what active and glorious tasks in other worlds may
+we not be reserved--perhaps to know and share them together, and mount
+age after age higher in the scale of being. For surely in heaven there
+is no pause or torpor--we do not lie down in calm and unimprovable
+repose. Movement and progress will remain the law and condition of
+existence. And there will be efforts and duties for us above as there
+have been below."
+
+It was in this theory, which Maltravers shared, that the character of
+Florence, her overflowing life and activity of thought--her aspirations,
+her ambition, were still displayed. It was not so much to the calm and
+rest of the grave that she extended her unreluctant gaze, as to the
+light and glory of a renewed and progressive existence.
+
+It was while thus they sat, the low voice of Ernest, tranquil yet half
+trembling with the emotions he sought to restrain--sometimes sobering,
+sometimes yet more elevating, the thoughts of Florence, that Lord
+Vargrave was announced, and Lumley Ferrers, who had now succeeded to
+that title, entered the room. It was the first time that Florence had
+seen him since the death of his uncle--the first time Maltravers
+had seen him since the evening so fatal to Florence. Both
+started--Maltravers rose and walked to the window. Lord Vargrave took
+the hand of his cousin and pressed it to his lips in silence, while his
+looks betokened feelings that for once were genuine.
+
+"You see, Lumley, I am resigned," said Florence, with a sweet smile. "I
+am resigned and happy."
+
+Lumley glanced at Maltravers, and met a cold, scrutinising, piercing
+eye, from which he shrank with some confusion. He recovered himself in
+an instant.
+
+"I am rejoiced, my cousin, I _am_ rejoiced," said he, very earnestly,
+"to see Maltravers here again. Let us now hope the best."
+
+Maltravers walked deliberately up to Lumley. "Will you take my hand
+_now_, too?" said he, with deep meaning in his tone.
+
+"More willingly than ever," said Lumley; and he did not shrink as he
+said it.
+
+"I am satisfied," replied Maltravers, after a pause, and in a voice that
+expressed more than his words.
+
+There is in some natures so great a hoard of generosity, that it often
+dulls their acuteness. Maltravers could not believe that frankness could
+be wholly a mask--it was an hypocrisy he knew not of. He himself was
+not incapable, had circumstances so urged him, of great crimes; nay, the
+design of one crime lay at that moment deadly and dark within his heart,
+for he had some passions which in so resolute a character could produce,
+should the wind waken them into storm, dire and terrible effects. Even
+at the age of thirty, it was yet uncertain whether Ernest Maltravers
+might become an exemplary or an evil man. But he could sooner have
+strangled a foe than taken the hand of a man whom he had once betrayed.
+
+"I love to think you friends," said Florence, gazing at them
+affectionately, "and to you, at least, Lumley, such friendship should be
+a blessing. I always loved you much and dearly, Lumley--loved you as a
+brother, though our characters often jarred."
+
+Lumley winced. "For Heaven's sake," he cried, "do not speak thus
+tenderly to me--I cannot bear it, and look on you and think--"
+
+"That I am dying. Kind words become us best when our words are
+approaching to the last. But enough of this--I grieved for your loss."
+
+"My poor uncle!" said Lumley, eagerly changing the conversation--"the
+shock was sudden; and melancholy duties have absorbed me so till this
+day, that I could not come even to you. It soothed me, however, to
+learn, in answer to my daily inquiries, that Ernest was here. For
+my part," he added with a faint smile, "I have had duties as well as
+honours devolved on me. I am left guardian to an heiress, and betrothed
+to a child."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Why, my poor uncle was so fondly attached to his wife's daughter, that
+he has left her the bulk of his property: a very small estate--not L2000
+a year--goes with the title (a new title, too, which requires twice as
+much to carry it off and make its pinchbeck pass for gold). In order,
+however, to serve a double purpose, secure to his _protegee_ his own
+beloved peerage, and atone to his nephew for the loss of wealth--he has
+left it a last request, that I should marry the young lady over whom I
+am appointed guardian, when she is eighteen--alas! I shall then be at
+the other side of forty! If she does not take to so mature a bridegroom,
+she loses thirty--only thirty of the L200,000 settled upon her, which
+goes to me as a sugar-plum after the nauseous draught of the young
+lady's 'No.' Now, you know all. His widow, really an exemplary young
+woman, has a jointure of L1500 a year, and the villa. It is not much,
+but she is contented."
+
+The lightness of the new peer's tone revolted Maltravers, and he
+turned impatiently away. But Lord Vargrave, resolving not to suffer the
+conversation to glide back to sorrowful subjects, which he always hated,
+turned round to Ernest, and said, "Well, my dear Ernest, I see by the
+papers that you are to have N------'s late appointment--it is a very
+rising office. I congratulate you."
+
+"I have refused," said Maltravers, drily.
+
+"Bless me!--indeed!--why?"
+
+Ernest bit his lip, and frowned; but his glance wandering unconsciously
+at Florence, Lumley thought he detected the true reply to his question,
+and became mute.
+
+The conversation was afterwards embarrassed and broken up; Lumley went
+away as soon as he could, and Lady Florence that night had a severe
+fit, and could not leave her bed the next day. That confinement she
+had struggled against to the last; and now, day by day, it grew more
+frequent and inevitable. The steps of Death became accelerated. And Lord
+Saxingham, wakened at last to the mournful truth, took his place by his
+daughter's side, and forgot that he was a cabinet minister.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+ "Away, my friends, why take such pains to know
+  What some brave marble soon in church shall show?"
+          CRABBE.
+
+IT may seem strange, but Maltravers had never loved Lady Florence as he
+did now. Was it the perversity of human nature that makes the things of
+mortality dearer to us in proportion as they fade from our hopes, like
+birds whose hues are only unfolded when they take wing and vanish amidst
+the skies; or was it that he had ever doted more on loveliness of mind
+than that of form, and the first bloomed out the more, the more the last
+decayed? A thing to protect, to soothe, to shelter--oh, how dear it is
+to the pride of man! The haughty woman who can stand alone and requires
+no leaning-place in our heart, loses the spell of her sex.
+
+I pass over those stages of decline gratuitously painful to record; and
+which in this case mine cannot be the cold and technical hand to trace.
+At length came that time when physicians could define within a few days
+the final hour of release. And latterly the mocking pruderies of rank
+had been laid aside, and Maltravers had, for some hours at least in the
+day, taken his watch beside the couch to which the admired and brilliant
+Florence Lascelles was now almost constantly reduced. But her high and
+heroic spirit was with her to the last. To the last she could endure
+love and hope. One day when Maltravers left his post, she besought him,
+with more solemnity than usual, to return that evening. She fixed the
+precise hour, and she sighed heavily when he departed. Maltravers
+paused in the hall to speak to the physician, who was just quitting Lord
+Saxingham's library. Ernest spoke to him for some moments calmly, and
+when he heard the fiat, he betrayed no other emotion than a slight
+quiver of the lip! "I must not weep for her yet," he muttered, as he
+turned from the door. He went thence to the house of a gentleman of his
+own age, with whom he had formed that kind of acquaintance which never
+amounts to familiar friendship, but rests upon mutual respect, and
+is often more ready than professed friendship itself to confer mutual
+service. Colonel Danvers was a man who usually sat next to Maltravers in
+parliament; they voted together, and thought alike on principles both
+of politics and honour: they would have lent thousands to each other
+without bond or memorandum; and neither ever wanted a warm and indignant
+advocate when he was abused behind his back in the presence of the
+other. Yet their tastes and ordinary habits were not congenial; and when
+they met in the streets, they never said, as they would to companions
+they esteemed less, "Let us spend the day together!" Such forms of
+acquaintance are not uncommon among honourable men who have already
+formed habits and pursuits of their own, which they cannot surrender
+even to friendship. Colonel Danvers was not at home--they believed he
+was at his club, of which Ernest also was a member. Thither Maltravers
+bent his way. On arriving, he found that Danvers had been at the club
+an hour ago, and left word that he should shortly return. Maltravers
+entered and quietly sat down. The room was full of its daily loungers;
+but he did not shrink from, he did not even heed, the crowd. He felt not
+the desire of solitude--there was solitude enough within him. Several
+distinguished public men were there, grouped around the fire, and many
+of the hangers-on and satellites of political life; they were talking
+with eagerness and animation, for it was a season of great party
+conflict. Strange as it may seem, though Maltravers was then scarcely
+sensible of their conversation, it all came back vividly and faithfully
+on him afterwards, in the first hours of reflection on his own future
+plans, and served to deepen and consolidate his disgust of the world.
+They were discussing the character of a great statesman whom, warmed
+but by the loftiest and purest motives, they were unable to understand.
+Their gross suspicions, their coarse jealousies, their calculations of
+patriotism by place, all that strips the varnish from the face of that
+fair harlot--Political Ambition--sank like caustic into his spirit.
+A gentleman seeing him sit silent, with his hat over his moody brows,
+civilly extended to him the paper he was reading.
+
+"It is the second edition; you will find the last French express."
+
+"Thank you," said Maltravers; and the civil man started as he heard
+the brief answer; there was something so inexpressibly prostrate and
+broken-spirited in the voice that uttered it.
+
+Maltravers's eyes fell mechanically on the columns, and caught his own
+name. That work which, in the fair retirement of Temple Grove it had
+so pleased him to compose--in every page and every thought of which
+Florence had been consulted--which was so inseparably associated with
+her image, and glorified by the light of her kindred genius--was just
+published. It had been completed long since; but the publisher had, for
+some excellent reason of the craft, hitherto delayed its appearance.
+Maltravers knew nothing of its publication; he had meant, after his
+return to town, to have sent to forbid its appearance; but his thoughts
+of late had crushed everything else out of his memory--he had forgotten
+its existence. And now, in all the pomp and parade of authorship, it was
+sent into the world! _Now_, _now_, when it was like an indecent mockery
+of the Bed of Death--a sacrilege, an impiety! There is a terrible
+disconnection between the author and the man---the author's life and
+the man's life--the eras of visible triumph may be those of the most
+intolerable, though unrevealed and unconjectured anguish. The book that
+delighted us to compose may first appear in the hour when all things
+under the sun are joyless. This had been Ernest Maltravers's most
+favoured work. It had been conceived in a happy hour of great
+ambition--it had been executed with that desire of truth, which, in the
+mind of genius, becomes ART. How little in the solitary hours stolen
+from sleep had he thought of self, and that labourer's hire called
+"fame!" how had he dreamt that he was promulgating secrets to make his
+kind better, and wiser, and truer to the great aims of life! How had
+Florence, and Florence alone, understood the beatings of his heart in
+every page! _And now_!--it so chanced that the work was reviewed in the
+paper he read--it was not only a hostile criticism, it was a personally
+abusive diatribe, a virulent invective. All the motives that can darken
+or defile were ascribed to him. All the mean spite of some mean mind
+was sputtered forth. Had the writer known the awful blow that awaited
+Maltravers at that time, it is not in man's nature but that he would
+have shrunk from this petty gall upon the wrung withers; but, as I have
+said, there is a terrible disconnection between the author and the man.
+The first is always at our mercy--of the last we know nothing. At such
+an hour Maltravers could feel none of the contempt that proud--none of
+the wrath that vain, minds feel at these stings. He could feel nothing
+but an undefined abhorrence of the world, and of the aims and objects
+he had pursued so long. Yet that even he did not then feel. He was in
+a dream; but as men remember dreams, so when he awoke did he loathe his
+own former aspirations, and sicken at their base rewards. It was the
+first time since his first year of inexperienced authorship that abuse
+had had the power even to vex him for a moment. But here, when the cup
+was already full, was the drop that overflowed. The great column of his
+past world was gone, and all else seemed crumbling away.
+
+At length Colonel Danvers entered. Maltravers drew him aside, and they
+left the club.
+
+"Danvers," said the latter, "the time in which I told you I should need
+your services is near at hand; let me see you, if possible, to-night."
+
+"Certainly--I shall be, at the House till eleven. After that hour you
+will find me at home."
+
+"I thank you."
+
+"Cannot this matter be arranged amicably?"
+
+"No, it is a quarrel of life and death."
+
+"Yet the world is really growing too enlightened for these old mimicries
+of single combat."
+
+"There are some cases in which human nature and its deep wrongs will be
+ever stronger than the world and its philosophy. Duels and wars belong
+to the same principle; both are sinful on light grounds and poor
+pretexts. But it is not sinful for a soldier to defend his country from
+invasion, nor for man, with a man's heart, to vindicate truth and honour
+with his life. The robber that asks me for money I am allowed to shoot.
+Is the robber that tears from me treasures never to be replaced, to go
+free? These are the inconsistencies of a pseudo-ethics, which, as long
+as we are made of flesh and blood, we can never subscribe to."
+
+"Yet the ancients," said Danvers, with a smile, "were as passionate as
+ourselves, and they dispensed with duels."
+
+"Yes, because they resorted to assassination!" answered Maltravers, with
+a gloomy frown. "As in revolutions all law is suspended, so are there
+stormy events and mighty injuries in life which are as revolutions to
+individuals. Enough of this--it is no time to argue like the schoolmen.
+When we meet you shall know all, and you will judge like me. Good day!"
+
+"What, are you going already? Maltravers, you look ill, your hand is
+feverish--you should take advice."
+
+Maltravers smiled--but the smile was not like his own--shook his head,
+and strode rapidly away.
+
+Three of the London clocks, one after the other, had told the hour
+of nine, as a tall and commanding figure passed up the street towards
+Saxingham House. Five doors before you reach that mansion there is a
+crossing, and at this spot stood a young man, in whose face youth itself
+looked sapless and blasted. It was then March;--the third of March;
+the weather was unusually severe and biting, even for that angry month.
+There had been snow in the morning, and it lay white and dreary in
+various ridges along the street. But the wind was not still in the keen
+but quiet sharpness of frost; on the contrary, it howled almost like a
+hurricane through the desolate thoroughfares, and the lamps flickered
+unsteadily in the turbulent gusts. Perhaps it was the blasts which
+increased the haggardness of aspect in the young man I have mentioned.
+His hair, which was much longer than is commonly worn, was tossed wildly
+from cheeks preternaturally shrunken, hollow, and livid: and the frail,
+thin form seemed scarcely able to support itself against the rush of the
+winds.
+
+As the tall figure, which, in its masculine stature and proportions, and
+a peculiar and nameless grandeur of bearing, strongly contrasted that of
+the younger man, now came to the spot where the streets met, it paused
+abruptly.
+
+"You are here once more, Castruccio Cesarini; it is well!" said the low
+but ringing voice of Ernest Maltravers. "This, I believe, will not be
+our last interview to-night."
+
+"I ask you, sir," said Cesarini, in a tone in which pride struggled with
+emotion--"I ask you to tell me how she is; whether you know--I cannot
+speak--"
+
+"Your work is nearly done," answered Maltravers. "A few hours more, and
+your victim, for she is yours, will bear her tale to the Great Judgment
+Seat. Murderer as you are, tremble, for your own hour approaches!"
+
+"She dies and I cannot see her! and you are permitted that last glimpse
+of human perfectness; you who never loved her as I did; you--hated and
+detested! you--"
+
+Cesarini paused, and his voice died away, choked in his own convulsive
+gaspings for breath.
+
+Maltravers looked at him from the height of his erect and lofty form,
+with a merciless eye; for in this one quarter, Maltravers had shut out
+pity from his soul.
+
+"Weak criminal!" said he, "hear me. You received at my hands
+forbearance, friendship, fostering and anxious care. When your own
+follies plunged you into penury, mine was the unseen hand that plucked
+you from famine, or the prison. I strove to redeem, and save, and raise
+you, and endow your miserable spirit with the thirst and the power of
+honour and independence. The agent of that wish was Florence Lascelles;
+you repaid us well! a base and fraudulent forgery, attaching meanness to
+me, fraught with agony and death to her. Your conscience at last smote
+you; you revealed to her your crime--one spark of manhood made you
+reveal it also to myself. Fresh as I was in that moment from the
+contemplations of the ruin you had made, I curbed the impulse that would
+have crushed the life from your bosom. I told you to live on while life
+was left to her. If she recovered, I could forgive; if she died, I must
+avenge. We entered into that solemn compact, and in a few hours the bond
+will need the seal: it is the blood of one of us. Castruccio Cesarini,
+there is justice in Heaven. Deceive yourself not; you will fall by my
+hand. When the hour comes, you will hear from me. Let me pass--I have no
+more now to say."
+
+Every syllable of this speech was uttered with that thrilling
+distinctness which seems as if the depth of the heart spoke in the
+voice. But Cesarini did not appear to understand its import. He seized
+Maltravers by the arm, and looked in his face with a wild and menacing
+glare.
+
+"Did you tell me she was dying?" he said. "I ask you that question:
+why do you not answer me? Oh, by the way, you threaten me with your
+vengeance. Know you not that I long to meet you front to front, and
+to the death? Did I not tell you so--did I not try to move your slow
+blood--to insult you into a conflict in which I should have gloried? Yet
+then you were marble."
+
+"Because _my_ wrong I could forgive, and _hers_--there was then a hope
+that hers might not need the atonement. Away!"
+
+Maltravers shook the hold of the Italian from his arm, and passed on. A
+wild, sharp yell of despair rang after him, and echoed in his ear as
+he strode the long, dim, solitary stairs that led to the death-bed of
+Florence Lascelles.
+
+Maltravers entered the room adjoining that which contained the
+sufferer--the same room, still gay and cheerful, in which had been his
+first interview with Florence since their reconciliation.
+
+Here he found the physician dozing in a _fauteuil_. Lady Florence had
+fallen asleep during the last two or three hours. Lord Saxingham was in
+his own apartment, deeply and noisily affected; for it was not thought
+that Florence could survive the night.
+
+Maltravers sat himself quietly down. Before him, on a table, lay several
+manuscript books, gaily and gorgeously bound; he mechanically opened
+them. Florence's fair, noble Italian characters met his eye in every
+page. Her rich and active mind, her love for poetry, her thirst for
+knowledge, her indulgence of deep thought, spoke from those pages
+like the ghosts of herself. Often, underscored with the marks of her
+approbation, he chanced upon extracts from his own works, sometimes upon
+reflections by the writer herself, not inferior in truth and depth to
+his own; snatches of wild verse never completed, but of a power
+and energy beyond the delicate grace of lady-poets; brief, vigorous
+criticisms on books, above the common holiday studies of the sex;
+indignant and sarcastic aphorisms on the real world, with high and sad
+bursts of feeling upon the ideal one; all chequering and enriching the
+various volumes, told of the rare gifts with which this singular girl
+was endowed--a herbal, as it were, of withered blossoms that might have
+borne Hesperian fruits. And sometimes in these outpourings of the
+full mind and laden heart were allusions to himself, so tender and so
+touching--the pencilled outline of his features, traced by memory in
+a thousand aspects--the reference to former interviews and
+conversations--the dates and hours marked with a woman's minute and
+treasuring care!--all these tokens of genius and of love spoke to him
+with a voice that said, "And this creature is lost to you, forever: you
+never appreciated her till the time for her departure was irrevocably
+fixed!"
+
+Maltravers uttered a deep groan; all the past rushed over him. Her
+romantic passion for one yet unknown--her interest in his glory--her
+zeal for his life of life, his spotless and haughty name. It was as if
+with her, Fame and Ambition were dying also, and henceforth nothing but
+common clay and sordid motives were to be left on earth.
+
+How sudden--how awfully sudden had been the blow! True, there had been
+an absence of some months in which the change had operated. But absence
+is a blank, a nonentity. He had left her in apparent health, in the time
+of prosperity and pride. He saw her again--stricken down in body and
+temper--chastened--humbled--dying. And this being, so bright and lofty,
+how had she loved him! Never had he been so loved, except in that
+morning dream, haunted by the vision of the lost and dim-remembered
+Alice. Never on earth could he be so loved again. The air and aspect
+of the whole chamber grew to him painful and oppressive. It was full of
+her--the owner! There the harp, which so well became her muse-like
+form that it was associated with her like a part of herself! There the
+pictures, fresh and glowing from her hand,-the grace--the harmony--the
+classic and simple taste everywhere displayed.
+
+Rousseau has left to us an immortal portrait of the lover waiting
+for the first embraces of his mistress. But to wait with a pulse as
+feverish, a brain as dizzy, for her last look--to await the moment of
+despair, not rapture--to feel the slow and dull time as palpable a load
+upon the heart, yet to shrink from your own impatience, and wish that
+the agony of suspense might endure for ever--this, oh, this is a picture
+of intense passion--of flesh and blood reality--of the rare and solemn
+epochs of our mysterious life--which had been worthier the genius of
+that "Apostle of Affliction"!
+
+At length the door opened; the favourite attendant of Florence looked
+in.
+
+"Is Mr. Maltravers there? Oh, sir, my lady is awake and would see you."
+
+Maltravers rose, but his feet were glued to the ground, his sinking
+heart stood still--it was a mortal terror that possessed him. With a
+deep sigh he shook off the numbing spell, and passed to the bedside of
+Florence.
+
+She sat up, propped by pillows, and as he sank beside her, and clasped
+her wan, transparent hand, she looked at him with a smile of pitying
+love.
+
+"You have been very, very kind to me," she said, after a pause, and with
+a voice which had altered even since the last time he heard it. "You
+have made that part of life from which human nature shrinks with dread,
+the happiest and the brightest of all my short and vain existence. My
+own clear Ernest--Heaven reward you!"
+
+A few grateful tears dropped from her eyes, and they fell on the hand
+which she bent her lips to kiss.
+
+"It was not here--nor amidst the streets and the noisy abodes of
+anxious, worldly men--nor was it in this harsh and dreary season of the
+year, that I could have wished to look my last on earth. Could I have
+seen the face of Nature--could I have watched once more with the summer
+sun amidst those gentle scenes we loved so well, Death would have had
+no difference from sleep. But what matters it? With you there are summer
+and Nature everywhere!"
+
+Maltravers raised his face, and their eyes met in silence--it was
+a long, fixed gaze, which spoke more than all words could. Her head
+dropped on his shoulder, and there it lay, passive and motionless,
+for some moments. A soft step glided into the room--it was the unhappy
+father's. He came to the other side of his daughter, and sobbed
+convulsively.
+
+She then raised herself, and even in the shades of death, a faint blush
+passed over her cheek.
+
+"My good dear father, what comfort will it give you hereafter to think
+how fondly you spoiled your Florence!"
+
+Lord Saxingham could not answer: he clasped her in his arms and wept
+over her. Then he broke away--looked on her with a shudder--
+
+"O God!" he cried, "she is dead--she is dead!"
+
+Maltravers started. The physician kindly approached, and, taking Lord
+Saxingham's hand, led him from the room--he went mute and obedient like
+a child.
+
+But the struggle was not yet past. Florence once more opened her eyes,
+and Maltravers uttered a cry of joy. But along those eyes the film was
+darkening rapidly, as still through the mist and shadow they sought
+the beloved countenance which hung over her, as if to breathe life into
+waning life. Twice her lips moved, but her voice failed her; she shook
+her head sadly.
+
+Maltravers hastily held to her mouth a cordial which lay ready on the
+table near her, but scarce had it moistened her lips, when her whole
+frame grew heavier and heavier, in his clasp. Her head once more sank
+upon his bosom--she thrice gasped wildly for breath--and at length,
+raising her hand on high, life struggled into its expiring ray.
+
+"_There_--above!--Ernest--that name--Ernest!"
+
+Yes, that name was the last she uttered; she was evidently conscious of
+that thought, for a smile, as her voice again faltered--a smile sweet
+and serene--that smile never seen but on the faces of the dying and the
+dead--borrowed from a light that is not of this world--settled slowly on
+her brow, her lips, her whole countenance; still she breathed, but the
+breath grew fainter! at length, without murmur, sound, or struggle, it
+passed away--the head dropped from his bosom--the form fell from his
+arms-all was over!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+  * * * * "Is this the promised end?"--_Lear_.
+
+IT was two hours after that scene before Maltravers left the house. It
+was then just on the stroke of the first hour of morning. To him, while
+he walked through the streets, and the sharp winds howled on his path,
+it was as if a strange and wizard life had passed into and supported
+him--a sort of drowsy, dull existence. He was like a sleepwalker,
+unconscious of all around him; yet his steps went safe and free; and the
+one thought that possessed his being--into which all intellect seemed
+shrunk--the thought, not fiery nor vehement, but calm, stern, and
+solemn--the thought of revenge--seemed, as it were, grown his soul
+itself. He arrived at the door of Colonel Danvers, mounted the stairs,
+and as his friend advanced to meet him, said calmly, "Now, then, the
+hour has arrived."
+
+"But what would you do now?"
+
+"Come with me, and you shall learn."
+
+"Very well, my carriage is below. Will you direct the servants?"
+
+Maltravers nodded, gave his orders to the careless footman, and the two
+friends were soon driving through the less known and courtly regions of
+the giant city. It was then that Maltravers concisely stated to Danvers
+the fraud that had been practised by Cesarini.
+
+"You will go with me now," concluded Maltravers, "to his house. To
+do him justice, he is no coward; he has not shrunk from giving me his
+address, nor will he shrink from the atonement I demand. I shall wait
+below while you arrange our meeting--at daybreak for to-morrow." Danvers
+was astonished and even appalled by the discovery made to him. There was
+something so unusual and strange in the whole affair. But neither his
+experience, nor his principles of honour, could suggest any alternative
+to the plan proposed. For though not regarding the cause of quarrel in
+the same light as Maltravers, and putting aside all question as to the
+right of the latter to constitute himself the champion of the betrothed,
+or the avenger of the dead, it seemed clear to the soldier that a man
+whose confidential letter had been garbled by another for the purpose
+of slandering his truth and calumniating his name, had no option but
+contempt, or the sole retribution (wretched though it be) which the
+customs of the higher class permit to those who live within its pale.
+But contempt for a wrong that a sorrow so tragic had followed--was
+_that_ option in human philosophy?
+
+The carriage stopped at a door in a narrow lane in an obscure suburb.
+Yet, dark as all the houses around were, lights were seen in the upper
+windows of Cesarini's residence, passing to and fro; and scarce had the
+servant's loud knock echoed through the dim thoroughfare, ere the door
+was opened. Danvers descended, and entered the passage--"Oh, sir, I am
+so glad you are come!" said an old woman, pale and trembling; "he do
+take on so!"
+
+"There is no mistake," asked Danvers, halting; "an Italian gentleman
+named Cesarini lodges here?"
+
+"Yes, sir, poor cretur--I sent for you to come to him--for says I to my
+boy, says I--"
+
+"Whom do you take me for?"
+
+"Why, la, sir, you be's the doctor, ben't you?"
+
+Danvers made no reply; he had a mean opinion of the courage of one who
+could act dishonourably; he thought there was some design to cheat his
+friend out of his revenge; accordingly he ascended the stairs, motioning
+the woman to precede him.
+
+He came back to the door of the carriage in a few minutes. "Let us go
+home, Maltravers," said he, "this man is not in a state to meet you."
+
+"Ha!" cried Maltravers, frowning darkly, and all his long-smothered
+indignation rushing like fire through every vein of his body; "would he
+shrink from the atonement?" He pushed Danvers impatiently aside, leapt
+from the carriage, and rushed up-stairs.
+
+Danvers followed.
+
+Heated, wrought-up, furious, Ernest Maltravers burst into a small and
+squalid chamber; from the closed doors of which, through many chinks,
+had gleamed the light that told him Cesarini was within. And Cesarini's
+eyes, blazing with horrible fire, were the first object that met his
+gaze. Maltravers stood still, as if frozen into stone.
+
+"Ha! ha!" laughed a shrill and shrieking voice, which contrasted dreadly
+with the accents of the soft Tuscan, in which the wild words were
+strung--"who comes here with garments dyed in blood? You cannot accuse
+me--for my blow drew no blood, it went straight to the heart--it tore no
+flesh by the way; we Italians poison our victims! Where art thou--where
+art thou, Maltravers? I am ready. Coward, you do not come! Oh, yes, yes,
+here you are; the pistols--I will not fight so. I am a wild beast. Let
+us rend each other with our teeth and talons!"
+
+Huddled up like a heap of confused and jointless limbs in the furthest
+corner of the room, lay the wretch, a raving maniac;--two men keeping
+their firm gripe on him, which, ever and anon, with the mighty strength
+of madness, he shook off, to fall back senseless and exhausted; his
+strained and bloodshot eyes starting from their sockets, the slaver
+gathering round his lips, his raven hair standing on end, his delicate
+and symmetrical features distorted into a hideous and Gorgon aspect. It
+was, indeed, an appalling and sublime spectacle, full of an awful moral,
+the meeting of the foes! Here stood Maltravers, strong beyond the common
+strength of men, in health, power, conscious superiority, premeditated
+vengeance--wise, gifted; all his faculties ripe, developed, at his
+command;--the complete and all-armed man, prepared for defence and
+offence against every foe--a man who, once roused in a righteous
+quarrel, would not have quailed before an army; and there and thus was
+his dark and fierce purpose dashed from his soul, shivered into atoms
+at his feet. He felt the nothingness of man and man's wrath--in the
+presence of the madman on whose head the thunderbolt of a greater curse
+than human anger ever breathes had fallen. In his horrible affliction
+the Criminal triumphed over the Avenger!
+
+"Yes! yes!" shouted Cesarini, again; "they tell me she is dying; but
+he is by her side;--pluck him thence--he shall not touch her hand--she
+shall not bless him--she is mine--if I killed her, I have saved her from
+him--she is mine in death. Let me in, I say,--I will come in,--I will, I
+will see her, and strangle him at her feet." With that, by a tremendous
+effort, he tore himself from the clutch of his holders, and with a
+sudden and exultant bound sprang across the room, and stood face to
+face with Maltravers. The proud brave than turned pale, and recoiled a
+step--"It is he! it is he!" shrieked the maniac, and he leaped like a
+tiger at the throat of his rival. Maltravers quickly seized his arm, and
+whirled him round. Cesarini fell heavily on the floor, mute, senseless,
+and in strong convulsions.
+
+"Mysterious Providence!" murmured Maltravers, "thou hast justly rebuked
+the mortal for dreaming he might arrogate to himself thy privilege of
+vengeance. Forgive the sinner, O God, as I do--as thou teachest this
+stubborn heart to forgive--as she forgave who is now with thee, a
+blessed saint in heaven!"
+
+When, some minutes afterwards, the doctor, who had been sent for,
+arrived, the head of the stricken patient lay on the lap of his foe, and
+it was the hand of Maltravers that wiped the froth from the white lips,
+and the voice of Maltravers that strove to soothe, and the tears of
+Maltravers that were falling on that fiery brow.
+
+"Tend him, sir, tend him as my brother," said Maltravers, hiding his
+face as he resigned the charge. "Let him have all that can alleviate and
+cure--remove him hence to some fitter abode--send for the best advice.
+Restore him, and--and--" He could say no more, but left the room
+abruptly.
+
+It was afterwards ascertained that Cesarini had remained in the streets
+after his short interview with Ernest, that at length he had knocked at
+Lord Saxingham's door just in the very hour when death had claimed
+its victim. He heard the announcement--he sought to force his way
+up-stairs--they thrust him from the house, and nothing more of him
+was known till he arrived at his own door, an hour before Danvers and
+Maltravers came, in raging frenzy. Perhaps by one of the dim erratic
+gleams of light which always chequer the darkness of insanity, he
+retained some faint remembrance of his compact and assignation with
+Maltravers, which had happily guided his steps back to his abode.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+It was two months after this scene, a lovely Sabbath morning, in the
+earliest May, as Lumley, Lord Vargrave, sat alone, by the window in
+his late uncle's villa, in his late uncle's easy-chair--his eyes were
+resting musingly on the green lawn on which the windows opened, or
+rather on two forms that were seated upon a rustic bench in the middle
+of the sward. One was the widow in her weeds, the other was that fair
+and lovely child destined to be the bride of the new lord. The hands of
+the mother and daughter were clasped each in each. There was sadness in
+the faces of both--deeper if more resigned on that of the elder, for the
+child sought to console her parent, and grief in childhood comes with a
+butterfly's wing.
+
+Lumley gazed on them both, and on the child more earnestly.
+
+"She is very lovely," he said; "she will be very rich. After all, I
+am not to be pitied. I am a peer, and I have enough to live upon at
+present. I am a rising man--our party wants peers; and though I could
+not have had more than a subaltern's seat at the Treasury Board six
+months ago, when I was an active, zealous, able commoner, now that I am
+a lord, with what they call a stake in the country, I may open my mouth
+and--bless me! I know not how many windfalls may drop in! My uncle was
+wiser than I thought in wrestling for this peerage, which he won and I
+wear!--Then, by and by, just at the age when I want to marry and have an
+heir (and a pretty wife saves one a vast deal of trouble), L200,000 and
+a young beauty! Come, come, I have strong cards in my hands if I play
+them tolerably. I must take care that she falls desperately in love
+with me. Leave me alone for that--I know the sex, and have never failed
+except in--ah, that poor Florence! Well, it is no use regretting! Like
+thrifty artists, we must paint out the unmarketable picture, and call
+luckier creations to fill up the same canvas!"
+
+Here the servant interrupted Lord Vargrave's meditation by bringing in
+the letters and the newspapers which had just been forwarded from
+his town house. Lord Vargrave had spoken in the Lords on the previous
+Friday, and he wished to see what the Sunday newspapers said of his
+speech. So he took up one of the leading papers before he opened the
+letters. His eyes rested upon two paragraphs in close neighbourhood with
+each other: the first ran thus:
+
+
+"The celebrated Mr. Maltravers has abruptly resigned his seat for the
+------ of ------, and left town yesterday on an extended tour on
+the Continent. Speculation is busy on the causes of the singular and
+unexpected self-exile of a gentleman so distinguished--in the very
+zenith of his career."
+
+
+"So, he has given up the game!" muttered Lord Vargrave; "he was never
+a practical man--I am glad he is out of the way. But what's this about
+myself?"
+
+
+"We hear that important changes are to take place in the government---it
+is said that ministers are at last alive to the necessity of
+strengthening themselves with new talent. Among other appointments
+confidently spoken of in the best-informed circles, we learn that
+Lord Vargrave is to have the place of ------. It will be a popular
+appointment. Lord Vargrave is not a holiday orator, a mere declamatory
+rhetorician--but a man of clear business-like views, and was highly
+thought of in the House of Commons. He has also the art of attaching
+his friends, and his frank, manly character cannot fail to have its due
+effect with the English public. In another column of our journal our
+readers will see a full report of his excellent maiden speech in the
+House of Lords, on Friday last: the sentiments there expressed do the
+highest honour to his lordship's patriotism and sagacity."
+
+
+"Very well, very well indeed!" said Lumley, rubbing his hands; and
+turning to his letters, his attention was drawn to one with an enormous
+seal, marked "Private and confidential." He knew before he opened
+it that it contained the offer of the appointment alluded to in the
+newspaper. He read, and rose exultantly; passing through the French
+windows, he joined Lady Vargrave and Evelyn on the lawn, and, as he
+smiled on the mother and caressed the child, the scene and the group
+made a pleasant picture of English domestic happiness.
+
+Here ends the First Portion of this work: it ends in the view that
+bounds us when we look on the practical world with the outward
+unspiritual eye--and see life that dissatisfies justice,--for life is so
+seen but in fragments. The influence of fate seems so small on the man
+who, in erring, but errs as the egotist, and shapes out of ill some use
+that can profit himself. But Fate hangs a shadow so vast on the heart
+that errs but in venturing and knows only in others the sources of
+sorrow and joy.
+
+Go alone, O Maltravers, unfriendly, remote--thy present a waste, and
+thy past life a ruin, go forth to the future!--Go, Ferrers, light
+cynic--with the crowd take thy way,--complacent, elated,--no cloud upon
+conscience, for thou seest but sunshine on fortune.--Go forth to the
+future!
+
+Human life is compared to the circle.--Is the simile just? All lines
+that are drawn from the centre to touch the circumference, by the law
+of the circle, are equal. But the lines that are drawn from the heart
+of the man to the verge of his destiny--do they equal each other?--Alas!
+some seem so brief, and some lengthen on as for ever.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ernest Maltravers, Complete, by
+Edward Bulwer-Lytton
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook Ernest Maltravers, by Bulwer-Lytton, Complete
+#77 in our series by Edward Bulwer-Lytton
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+Title: Ernest Maltravers, Complete
+
+Author: Edward Bulwer-Lytton
+
+Release Date: March 2005  [EBook #7649]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on March 11, 2004]
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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MALTRAVERS, LYTTON, COMPLETE ***
+
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+This eBook was produced by Dagny, dagnypg@yahoo.com
+                and David Widger, widger@cecomet.net
+
+
+
+
+
+ERNEST MALTRAVERS
+
+BY EDWARD BULWER LYTTON
+(Lord Lytton)
+
+
+
+DEDICATION:
+
+  TO
+  THE GREAT GERMAN PEOPLE,
+  A race of thinkers and of critics;
+  A foreign but familiar audience,
+  Profound in judgment, candid in reproof, generous in appreciation,
+  This work is dedicated
+  By an English Author.
+
+
+
+PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1840.
+
+HOWEVER numerous the works of fiction with which, my dear Reader, I have
+trespassed on your attention, I leave published but three, of any
+account, in which the plot has been cast amidst the events, and coloured
+by the manner, of our own times. The first of these, /Pelham/, composed
+when I was little more than a boy, has the faults, and perhaps the
+merits, natural to a very early age,--when the novelty itself of life
+quickens the observation,--when we see distinctly, and represent
+vividly, what lies upon the surface of the world,--and when, half
+sympathising with the follies we satirise, there is a gusto in our
+paintings which atones for their exaggeration.  As we grow older we
+observe less, we reflect more; and, like Frankenstein, we dissect in
+order to create.
+
+The second novel of the present day,* which, after an interval of some
+years, I submitted to the world, was one I now, for the first time,
+acknowledge, and which (revised and corrected) will be included in this
+series, viz., /Godolphin/;--a work devoted to a particular portion of
+society, and the development of a peculiar class of character.  The
+third, which I now reprint, is /Ernest Maltravers/,** the most mature,
+and, on the whole, the most comprehensive of all that I have hitherto
+written.
+
+* For /The Disowned/ is cast in the time of our grandfathers, and /The
+Pilgrims of the Rhine/ had nothing to do with actual life, and is not,
+therefore, to be called a novel.
+
+** At the date of this preface /Night and Morning/ had not appeared.
+
+For the original idea, which, with humility, I will venture to call the
+philosophical design of a moral education or apprenticeship, I have left
+it easy to be seen that I am indebted to Goethe's /Wilhelm Meister/.
+But, in /Wilhelm Meister/, the apprenticeship is rather that of
+theoretical art.  In the more homely plan that I set before myself, the
+apprenticeship is rather that of practical life.  And, with this view,
+it has been especially my study to avoid all those attractions lawful in
+romance, or tales of pure humour or unbridled fancy, attractions that,
+in the language of reviewers, are styled under the head of "most
+striking descriptions," "scenes of extraordinary power," etc.; and are
+derived from violent contrasts and exaggerations pushed into caricature.
+It has been my aim to subdue and tone down the persons introduced, and
+the general agencies of the narrative, into the lights and shadows of
+life as it is.  I do not mean by "life as it is," the vulgar and the
+outward life alone, but life in its spiritual and mystic as well as its
+more visible and fleshly characteristics.  The idea of not only
+describing, but developing character under the ripening influences of
+time and circumstance, is not confined to the apprenticeship of
+Maltravers alone, but pervades the progress of Cesarini, Ferrers, and
+Alice Darvil.
+
+The original conception of Alice is taken from real life--from a person
+I never saw but twice, and then she was no longer young--but whose
+history made on me a deep impression.  Her early ignorance and home--her
+first love--the strange and affecting fidelity that she maintained, in
+spite of new ties--her final re-meeting, almost in middle-age, with one
+lost and adored almost in childhood--all this, as shown in the novel, is
+but the imperfect transcript of the true adventures of a living woman.
+
+In regard to Maltravers himself, I must own that I have but inadequately
+struggled against the great and obvious difficulty of representing an
+author living in our own times, with whose supposed works or alleged
+genius and those of any one actually existing, the reader can establish
+no identification, and he is therefore either compelled constantly to
+humour the delusion by keeping his imagination on the stretch, or lazily
+driven to confound the Author /in/ the Book with the Author /of/ the
+Book.* But I own, also, I fancied, while aware of this objection, and in
+spite of it, that so much not hitherto said might be conveyed with
+advantage through the lips or in the life of an imaginary writer of our
+own time, that I was contented, on the whole, either to task the
+imagination, or submit to the suspicions of the reader.  All that my own
+egotism appropriates in the book are some occasional remarks, the
+natural result of practical experience.  With the life or the character,
+the adventures or the humours, the errors or the good qualities, of
+Maltravers himself, I have nothing to do, except as the narrator and
+inventor.
+
+* In some foreign journal I have been much amused by a credulity of this
+latter description, and seen the various adventures of Mr. Maltravers
+gravely appropriated to the embellishment of my own life, including the
+attachment to the original of poor Alice Darvil; who now, by the way,
+must be at least seventy years of age, with a grandchild nearly as old
+as myself.
+
+E. B. L.
+
+
+
+A WORD TO THE READER
+PREFIXED TO THE FIRST EDITION OF 1837.
+
+THOU must not, my old and partial friend, look into this work for that
+species of interest which is drawn from stirring adventures and a
+perpetual variety of incident.  To a Novel of the present day are
+necessarily forbidden the animation, the excitement, the bustle, the
+pomp, and the stage effect which History affords to Romance.  Whatever
+merits, in thy gentle eyes, /Rienzi/, or /The Last Days of Pompeii/, may
+have possessed, this Tale, if it please thee at all, must owe that happy
+fortune to qualities widely different from those which won thy favour to
+pictures of the Past.  Thou must sober down thine imagination, and
+prepare thyself for a story not dedicated to the narrative of
+extraordinary events--nor the elucidation of the characters of great
+men.  Though there is scarcely a page in this work episodical to the
+main design, there may be much that may seem to thee wearisome and
+prolix, if thou wilt not lend thyself, in a kindly spirit, and with a
+generous trust, to the guidance of the Author.  In the hero of this tale
+thou wilt find neither a majestic demigod, nor a fascinating demon.  He
+is a man with the weaknesses derived from humanity, with the strength
+that we inherit from the soul; not often obstinate in error, more often
+irresolute in virtue; sometimes too aspiring, sometimes too despondent;
+influenced by the circumstances to which he yet struggles to be
+superior, and changing in character with the changes of time and fate;
+but never wantonly rejecting those great principles by which alone we
+can work the Science of Life--a desire for the Good, a passion for the
+Honest, a yearning after the True.  From such principles, Experience,
+that severe Mentor, teaches us at length the safe and practical
+philosophy which consists of Fortitude to bear, Serenity to enjoy, and
+Faith to look beyond!
+
+It would have led, perhaps, to more striking incidents, and have
+furnished an interest more intense, if I had cast Maltravers, the Man of
+Genius, amidst those fierce but ennobling struggles with poverty and
+want to which genius is so often condemned.  But wealth and lassitude
+have their temptations as well as penury and toil.  And for the rest--I
+have taken much of my tale and many of my characters from real life, and
+would not unnecessarily seek other fountains when the Well of Truth was
+in my reach.
+
+The Author has said his say, he retreats once more into silence and into
+shade; he leaves you alone with the creations he has called to life--the
+representatives of his emotions and his thoughts--the intermediators
+between the individual and the crowd.  Children not of the clay, but of
+the spirit, may they be faithful to their origin!--so should they be
+monitors, not loud but deep, of the world into which they are cast,
+struggling against the obstacles that will beset them, for the heritage
+of their parent--the right to survive the grave!
+
+LONDON, August 12th, 1837.
+
+
+
+ERNEST MALTRAVERS.
+
+
+
+BOOK I.
+
+  "Youth pastures in a valley of its own:
+   The glare of noon--the rains and winds of heaven
+   Mar not the calm yet virgin of all care.
+   But ever with sweet joys it buildeth up
+   The airy halls of life."
+     SOPH. /Trachim/. 144-147.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+  "My meaning in't, I protest, was very honest in the behalf of the
+   maid * * * * yet, who would have suspected an ambush where I was
+   taken?"
+     /All's Well that Ends Well/, Act iv. Sc. 3.
+
+SOME four miles distant from one of our northern manufacturing towns, in
+the year 18--, was a wide and desolate common; a more dreary spot it is
+impossible to conceive--the herbage grew up in sickly patches from the
+midst of a black and stony soil.  Not a tree was to be seen in the whole
+of the comfortless expanse.  Nature herself had seemed to desert the
+solitude, as if scared by the ceaseless din of the neighbouring forges;
+and even Art, which presses all things into service, had disdained to
+cull use or beauty from these unpromising demesnes.  There was something
+weird and primeval in the aspect of the place; especially when in the
+long nights of winter you beheld the distant fires and lights which give
+to the vicinity of certain manufactories so preternatural an appearance,
+streaming red and wild over the waste.  So abandoned by man appeared the
+spot, that you found it difficult to imagine that it was only from human
+fires that its bleak and barren desolation was illumined.  For miles
+along the moor you detected no vestige of any habitation; but as you
+approached the verge nearest to the town, you could just perceive at a
+little distance from the main road, by which the common was intersected,
+a small, solitary, and miserable hovel.
+
+Within this lonely abode, at the time in which my story opens, were
+seated two persons.  The one was a man of about fifty years of age, and
+in a squalid and wretched garb, which was yet relieved by an affectation
+of ill-assorted finery.  A silk handkerchief, which boasted the ornament
+of a large brooch of false stones, was twisted jauntily round a muscular
+but meagre throat; his tattered breeches were also decorated by buckles,
+one of pinchbeck, and one of steel.  His frame was lean, but broad and
+sinewy, indicative of considerable strength.  His countenance was
+prematurely marked by deep furrows, and his grizzled hair waved over a
+low, rugged, and forbidding brow, on which there hung an everlasting
+frown that no smile from the lips (and the man smiled often) could chase
+away.  It was a face that spoke of long-continued and hardened vice--it
+was one in which the Past had written indelible characters.  The brand
+of the hangman could not have stamped it more plainly, nor have more
+unequivocally warned the suspicion of honest or timid men.
+
+He was employed in counting some few and paltry coins, which, though an
+easy matter to ascertain their value, he told and retold, as if the act
+could increase the amount.  "There must be some mistake here, Alice," he
+said in a low and muttered tone: "we can't be so low--you know I had two
+pounds in the drawer but Monday, and now--Alice, you must have stolen
+some of the money--curse you."
+
+The person thus addressed sat at the opposite side of the smouldering
+and sullen fire; she now looked quietly up, and her face singularly
+contrasted that of the man.
+
+She seemed about fifteen years of age, and her complexion was remarkably
+pure and delicate, even despite the sunburnt tinge which her habits of
+toil had brought it.  Her auburn hair hung in loose and natural curls
+over her forehead, and its luxuriance was remarkable even in one so
+young.  Her countenance was beautiful, nay, even faultless, in its small
+and child-like features, but the expression pained you--it was so
+vacant.  In repose it was almost the expression of an idiot--but when
+she spoke or smiled, or even moved a muscle, the eyes, colour, lips,
+kindled into a life, which proved that the intellect was still there,
+though but imperfectly awakened.
+
+"I did not steal any, father," she said in a quiet voice; "but I should
+like to have taken some, only I knew you would beat me if I did."
+
+"And what do you want money for?"
+
+"To get food when I'm hungered."
+
+"Nothing else?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+The girl paused.--"Why don't you let me," she said, after a while, "why
+don't you let me go and work with the other girls at the factory?  I
+should make money there for you and me both."
+
+The man smiled--such a smile--it seemed to bring into sudden play all
+the revolting characteristics of his countenance.  "Child," he said,
+"you are just fifteen, and a sad fool you are: perhaps if you went to
+the factory, you would get away from me; and what should I do without
+you?  No, I think, as you are so pretty, you might get more money
+another way."
+
+The girl did not seem to understand this allusion: but repeated,
+vacantly, "I should like to go to the factory."
+
+"Stuff!" said the man, angrily; "I have three minds to--"
+
+Here he was interrupted by a loud knock at the door of the hovel.
+
+The man grew pale.  "What can that be?" he muttered.  "The hour is
+late--near eleven.  Again--again!  Ask who knocks, Alice."
+
+The girl stood for a moment or so at the door; and as she stood, her
+form, rounded yet slight, her earnest look, her varying colour, her
+tender youth, and a singular grace of attitude and gesture, would have
+inspired an artist with the very ideal of rustic beauty.
+
+After a pause, she placed her lips to a chink in the door, and repeated
+her father's question.
+
+"Pray pardon me," said a clear, loud, yet courteous voice, "but seeing a
+light at your window, I have ventured to ask if any one within will
+conduct me to ------; I will pay the service handsomely."
+
+"Open the door, Alley," said the owner of the hut.
+
+The girl drew a large wooden bolt from the door; and a tall figure
+crossed the threshold.
+
+The new-comer was in the first bloom of youth, perhaps about eighteen
+years of age, and his air and appearance surprised both sire and
+daughter.  Alone, on foot, at such an hour, it was impossible for any
+one to mistake him for other than a gentleman; yet his dress was plain
+and somewhat soiled by dust, and he carried a small knapsack on his
+shoulder.  As he entered, he lifted his hat with somewhat of foreign
+urbanity, and a profusion of fair brown hair fell partially over a high
+and commanding forehead.  His features were handsome, without being
+eminently so, and his aspect was at once bold and prepossessing.
+
+"I am much obliged by your civility," he said, advancing carelessly and
+addressing the man, who surveyed him with a scrutinising eye; "and
+trust, my good fellow, that you will increase the obligation by
+accompanying me to ------."
+
+"You can't miss well your way," said the man surlily: "the lights will
+direct you."
+
+"They have rather misled me, for they seem to surround the whole common,
+and there is no path across it that I can see; however, if you will put
+me in the right road, I will not trouble you further."
+
+"It is very late," replied the churlish landlord, equivocally.
+
+"The better reason why I should be at ------.  Come, my good friend, put
+on your hat, and I will give you half a guinea for your trouble."
+
+The man advanced, then halted; again surveyed his guest, and said, "Are
+you quite alone, sir?"
+
+"Quite."
+
+"Probably you are known at ------?"
+
+"Not I.  But what matters that to you?  I am a stranger in these parts."
+
+"It is full four miles."
+
+"So far, and I am fearfully tired already!" exclaimed the young man with
+impatience.  As he spoke he drew out his watch.  "Past eleven too!"
+
+The watch caught the eye of the cottager; that evil eye sparkled.  He
+passed his hand over his brow.  "I am thinking, sir," he said in a more
+civil tone than he had yet assumed, "that as you are so tired and the
+hour is so late, you might almost as well--"
+
+"What?" exclaimed the stranger, stamping somewhat petulantly.
+
+"I don't like to mention it; but my poor roof is at your service, and I
+would go with you to ------ at daybreak to-morrow."
+
+The stranger stared at the cottager, and then at the dingy walls of the
+hut.  He was about, very abruptly, to reject the hospitable proposal,
+when his eye rested suddenly on the form of Alice, who stood eager-eyed
+and open-mouthed, gazing on the handsome intruder.  As she caught his
+eye, she blushed deeply and turned aside.  The view seemed to change the
+intentions of the stranger.  He hesitated a moment, then muttered
+between his teeth: and sinking his knapsack on the ground, he cast
+himself into a chair beside the fire, stretched his limbs, and cried
+gaily, "So be it, my host: shut up your house again.  Bring me a cup of
+beer, and a crust of bread, and so much for supper!  As for bed, this
+chair will do vastly well."
+
+"Perhaps we can manage better for you than that chair," answered the
+host.  "But our best accommodation must seem bad enough to a gentleman:
+we are very poor people--hard-working, but very poor."
+
+"Never mind me," answered the stranger, busying himself in stirring the
+fire; "I am tolerably well accustomed to greater hardships than sleeping
+on a chair in an honest man's house; and though you are poor, I will
+take it for granted you are honest."
+
+The man grinned: and turning to Alice, bade her spread what their larder
+would afford.  Some crusts of bread, some cold potatoes, and some
+tolerably strong beer, composed all the fare set before the traveller.
+
+Despite his previous boasts, the young man made a wry face at these
+Socratic preparations, while he drew his chair to the board.  But his
+look grew more gay as he caught Alice's eye; and as she lingered by the
+table, and faltered out some hesitating words of apology, he seized her
+hand, and pressing it tenderly--"Prettiest of lasses," said he--and
+while he spoke he gazed on her with undisguised admiration--"a man who
+has travelled on foot all day, through the ugliest country within the
+three seas, is sufficiently refreshed at night by the sight of so fair a
+face."
+
+Alice hastily withdrew her hand, and went and seated herself in a corner
+of the room, when she continued to look at the stranger with her usual
+vacant gaze, but with a half-smile upon her rosy lips.
+
+Alice's father looked hard first at one, then at the other.
+
+"Eat, sir," said he, with a sort of chuckle, "and no fine words; poor
+Alice is honest, as you said just now."
+
+"To be sure," answered the traveller, employing with great zeal a set of
+strong, even, and dazzling teeth at the tough crusts; "to be sure she
+is.  I did not mean to offend you; but the fact is, that I am half a
+foreigner; and abroad, you know, one may say a civil thing to a pretty
+girl without hurting her feelings, or her father's either."
+
+"Half a foreigner! why, you talk English as well as I do," said the
+host, whose intonation and words were, on the whole, a little above his
+station.
+
+The stranger smiled.  "Thank you for the compliment," said he.  "What I
+meant was, that I have been a great deal abroad; in fact, I have just
+returned from Germany.  But I am English born."
+
+"And going home?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Far from hence?"
+
+"About thirty miles, I believe."
+
+"You are young, sir, to be alone."
+
+The traveller made no answer, but finished his uninviting repast and
+drew his chair again to the fire.  He then thought he had sufficiently
+ministered to his host's curiosity to be entitled to the gratification
+of his own.
+
+"You work at the factories, I suppose?" said he.
+
+"I do, sir.  Bad times."
+
+"And your pretty daughter?"
+
+"Minds the house."
+
+"Have you no other children?"
+
+"No; one mouth besides my own is as much as I can feed, and that
+scarcely.  But you would like to rest now; you can have my bed, sir; I
+can sleep here."
+
+"By no means," said the stranger, quickly; "just put a few more coals on
+the fire, and leave me to make myself comfortable."
+
+The man rose, and did not press his offer, but left the room for a
+supply of fuel.  Alice remained in her corner.
+
+"Sweetheart," said the traveller, looking round and satisfying himself
+that they were alone: "I should sleep well if I could get one kiss from
+those coral lips."
+
+Alice hid her face with her hands.
+
+"Do I vex you?"
+
+"Oh no, sir."
+
+At this assurance the traveller rose, and approached Alice softly.  He
+drew away her hands from her face, when she said gently, "Have you much
+money about you?"
+
+"Oh, the mercenary baggage!" said the traveller to himself; and then
+replied aloud, "Why, pretty one?  Do you sell your kisses so high then?"
+
+Alice frowned and tossed the hair from her brow.  "If you have money,"
+she said, in a whisper, "don't say so to father.  Don't sleep if you can
+help it.  I'm afraid--hush--he comes!"
+
+The young man returned to his seat with an altered manner.  And as his
+host entered, he for the first time surveyed him closely.  The imperfect
+glimmer of the half-dying and single candle threw into strong lights and
+shades the marked, rugged, and ferocious features of the cottager; and
+the eye of the traveller, glancing from the face to the limbs and frame,
+saw that whatever of violence the mind might design, the body might well
+execute.
+
+The traveller sank into a gloomy reverie.  The wind howled--the rain
+beat--through the casement shone no solitary star--all was dark and
+sombre.  Should he proceed alone--might he not suffer a greater danger
+upon that wide and desert moor--might not the host follow--assault him
+in the dark?  He had no weapon save a stick.  But within he had at least
+a rude resource in the large kitchen poker that was beside him.  At all
+events it would be better to wait for the present.  He might at any
+time, when alone, withdraw the bolt from the door, and slip out
+unobserved.  Such was the fruit of his meditations while his host plied
+the fire.
+
+"You will sleep sound to-night," said his entertainer, smiling.
+
+"Humph!  Why, I am /over/-fatigued; I dare say it will be an hour or two
+before I fall asleep; but when I once am asleep, I sleep like a rock!"
+
+"Come, Alice," said her father, "let us leave the gentleman.  Goodnight,
+sir."
+
+"Good night--good night," returned the traveller, yawning.
+
+The father and daughter disappeared through a door in the corner of the
+room.  The guest heard them ascend the creaking stairs--all was still.
+
+"Fool that I am," said the traveller to himself, "will nothing teach me
+that I am no longer a student at Gottingen, or cure me of these
+pedestrian adventures?  Had it not been for that girl's big blue eyes, I
+should be safe at ------ by this time, if, indeed, the grim father had
+not murdered me by the road.  However, we'll baulk him yet: another
+half-hour, and I am on the moor: we must give him time.  And in the
+meanwhile here is the poker.  At the worst it is but one to one; but the
+churl is strongly built."
+
+Although the traveller thus endeavoured to cheer his courage, his heart
+beat more loudly than its wont.  He kept his eyes stationed on the door
+by which the cottagers had vanished, and his hand on the massive poker.
+
+While the stranger was thus employed below, Alice, instead of turning to
+her own narrow cell, went into her father's room.
+
+The cottager was seated at the foot of his bed muttering to himself, and
+with eyes fixed on the ground.
+
+The girl stood before him, gazing on his face, and with her arms lightly
+crossed above her bosom.
+
+"It must be worth twenty guineas," said the host, abruptly to himself.
+
+"What is it to you, father, what the gentleman's watch is worth?"
+
+The man started.
+
+"You mean," continued Alice, quietly, "you mean to do some injury to
+that young man; but you shall not."
+
+The cottager's face grew black as night.  "How," he began in a loud
+voice, but suddenly dropped the tone into a deep growl--" how dare you
+talk to me so?--go to bed--go to bed."
+
+"No, father."
+
+"No?"
+
+"I will not stir from this room until daybreak."
+
+"We will soon see that," said the man, with an oath.
+
+"Touch me, and I will alarm the gentleman, and tell him that--"
+
+"What?"
+
+The girl approached her father, placed her lips to his ear, and
+whispered, "That you intend to murder him."
+
+The cottager's frame trembled from head to foot; he shut his eyes, and
+gasped painfully for breath.  "Alice," said he, gently, after a
+pause--"Alice, we are often nearly starving."
+
+"/I/ am--/you/ never!"
+
+"Wretch, yes, if I do drink too much one day, I pinch for it the next.
+But go to bed, I say--I mean no harm to the young man.  Think you I
+would twist myself a rope?--no, no; go along, go along."
+
+Alice's face, which had before been earnest and almost intelligent, now
+relapsed into its wonted vacant stare.
+
+"To be sure, father, they would hang you if you cut his throat.  Don't
+forget that;--good night;" and so saying, she walked to her own opposite
+chamber.
+
+Left alone, the host pressed his hand tightly to his forehead, and
+remained motionless for nearly half an hour.
+
+"If that cursed girl would but sleep," he muttered at last, turning
+round, "it might be done at once.  And there's the pond behind, as deep
+as a well; and I might say at daybreak that the boy had bolted.  He
+seems quite a stranger here--nobody'll miss him.  He must have plenty of
+blunt to give half a guinea to a guide across a common!  I want money,
+and I won't work--if I can help it, at least."
+
+While he thus soliloquised the air seemed to oppress him; he opened the
+window, he leant out--the rain beat upon him.  He closed the window with
+an oath; took off his shoes, stole to the threshold, and, by the candle,
+which he shaded with his hand, surveyed the opposite door.  It was
+closed.  He then bent anxiously forward and listened.
+
+"All's quiet," thought he, "perhaps he sleeps already.  I will steal
+down.  If Jack Walters would but come tonight, the job would be done
+charmingly."
+
+With that he crept gently down the stairs.  In a corner, at the foot of
+the staircase, lay sundry matters, a few faggots, and a cleaver.  He
+caught up the last.  "Aha," he muttered; "and there's the sledge-hammer
+somewhere for Walters."  Leaning himself against the door, he then
+applied his eye to a chink which admitted a dim view of the room within,
+lighted fitfully by the fire.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+  "What have we here?
+   A carrion death!"
+     /Merchant of Venice/, Act ii. Sc. 7.
+
+IT was about this time that the stranger deemed it advisable to commence
+his retreat.  The slight and suppressed sound of voices, which at first
+he had heard above in the conversation of the father and child, had died
+away.  The stillness at once encouraged and warned him.  He stole to the
+front door, softly undid the bolt, and found the door locked, and the
+key missing.  He had not observed that during his repast, and ere his
+suspicions had been aroused, his host, in replacing the bar, and
+relocking the entrance, had abstracted the key.  His fears were now
+confirmed.  His next thought was the window--the shutter only protected
+it half-way, and was easily removed; but the aperture of the lattice,
+which only opened in part like most cottage casements, was far too small
+to admit his person.  His only means of escape was in breaking the whole
+window; a matter not to be effected without noise and consequent risk.
+
+He paused in despair.  He was naturally of a strong-nerved and gallant
+temperament, nor unaccustomed to those perils of life and limb which
+German students delight to brave; but his heart well-nigh failed him at
+that moment.  The silence became distinct and burdensome to him, and a
+chill moisture gathered to his brow.  While he stood irresolute and in
+suspense, striving to collect his thoughts, his ear, preternaturally
+sharpened by fear, caught the faint muffled sound of creeping
+footsteps--he heard the stairs creak.  The sound broke the spell.  The
+previous vague apprehension gave way, when the danger became actually at
+hand.  His presence of mind returned at once.  He went back quickly to
+the fireplace, seized the poker, and began stirring the fire, and
+coughing loud, and indicating as vigorously as possible that he was wide
+awake.
+
+He felt that he was watched--he felt that he was in momently peril.  He
+felt that the appearance of slumber would be the signal for a mortal
+conflict.  Time passed, all remained silent; nearly half an hour had
+elapsed since he had heard the steps upon the stairs.  His situation
+began to prey upon his nerves, it irritated them--it became intolerable.
+It was not now fear that he experienced, it was the overwrought sense of
+mortal enmity--the consciousness that a man may feel who knows that the
+eye of a tiger is on him, and who, while in suspense he has regained his
+courage, foresees that sooner or later the spring must come; the
+suspense itself becomes an agony, and he desires to expedite the deadly
+struggle he cannot shun.
+
+Utterly incapable any longer to bear his own sensations, the traveller
+rose at last, fixed his eyes upon the fatal door, and was about to cry
+aloud to the listener to enter, when he heard a slight tap at the
+window; it was twice repeated; and at the third time a low voice
+pronounced the name of Darvil.  It was clear, then, that accomplices had
+arrived; it was no longer against one man that he would have to contend.
+He drew his breath hard, and listened with throbbing ears.  He heard
+steps without upon the plashing soil; they retired--all was still.
+
+He paused a few minutes, and walked deliberately and firmly to the inner
+door, at which he fancied his host stationed; with a steady hand he
+attempted to open the door; it was fastened on the opposite side. 
+"So!" said he, bitterly, and grinding his teeth, "I must die like a rat
+in a cage.  Well, I'll die biting."
+
+He returned to his former post, drew himself up to his full height, and
+stood grasping his homely weapon, prepared for the worst, and not
+altogether unelated with a proud consciousness of his own natural
+advantages of activity, stature, strength and daring.  Minutes rolled
+on; the silence was broken by some one at the inner door; he heard the
+bolt gently withdrawn.  He raised his weapon with both hands; and
+started to find the intruder was only Alice.  She came in with bare
+feet, and pale as marble, her finger on her lips.
+
+She approached--she touched him.
+
+"They are in the shed behind," she whispered, "looking for the
+sledge-hammer--they mean to murder you; get you gone--quick."
+
+"How?--the door is locked."
+
+"Stay.  I have taken the key from his room."
+
+She gained the door, applied the key--the door yielded.  The traveller
+threw his knapsack once more over his shoulder, and made but one stride
+to the threshold.  The girl stopped him.  "Don't say anything about it;
+he is my father, they would hang him."
+
+"No, no.  But you?--are safe, I trust?--depend on my gratitude.--I shall
+be at ------ to-morrow--the best inn--seek me if you can.  Which way
+now?"
+
+"Keep to the left."
+
+The stranger was already several paces distant; through the darkness,
+and in the midst of the rain, he fled on with the speed of youth.  The
+girl lingered an instant, sighed, then laughed aloud; closed and
+re-barred the door, and was creeping back, when from the inner entrance
+advanced the grim father, and another man, of broad, short, sinewy
+frame, his arms bare, and wielding a large hammer.
+
+"How?" asked the host; "Alice here, and--hell and the devil! have you
+let him go?"
+
+"I told you that you should not harm him."
+
+With a violent oath the ruffian struck his daughter to the ground,
+sprang over her body, unbarred the door, and, accompanied by his
+comrade, set off in vague pursuit of his intended victim.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+  "You knew--none so well, of my daughter's flight."
+     /Merchant of Venice/, Act iii. Sc. 1.
+
+THE day dawned; it was a mild, damp, hazy morning; the sod sank deep
+beneath the foot, the roads were heavy with mire, and the rain of the
+past night lay here and there in broad shallow pools.  Towards the town,
+waggons, carts, pedestrian groups were already moving; and, now and
+then, you caught the sharp horn of some early coach, wheeling its
+be-cloaked outside and be-nightcapped inside passengers along the
+northern thoroughfare.
+
+A young man bounded over a stile into the road just opposite to the
+milestone, that declared him to be one mile from ------.
+
+"Thank Heaven!" he said, almost aloud.  "After spending the night
+wandering about morasses like a will-o'-the-wisp, I approach a town at
+last.  Thank Heaven again, and for all its mercies this night!  I
+breathe freely.  I AM SAFE."
+
+He walked on somewhat rapidly; he passed a slow waggon---he passed a
+group of mechanics--he passed a drove of sheep, and now he saw walking
+leisurely before him a single figure.  It was a girl, in a worn and
+humble dress, who seemed to seek her weary way with pain and languor.
+He was about also to pass her, when he heard a low cry.  He turned, and
+beheld in the wayfarer his preserver of the previous night.
+
+"Heavens! is it indeed you?  Can I believe my eyes?"
+
+"I was coming to seek you, sir," said the girl, faintly.  "I too have
+escaped; I shall never go back to father; I have no roof to cover my
+head now."
+
+"Poor child! but how is this?  Did they ill use you for releasing me?"
+
+"Father knocked me down, and beat me again when he came back; but that
+is not all," she added, in a very low tone.
+
+"What else?"
+
+The girl grew red and white by turns.  She set her teeth rigidly,
+stopped short, and then walking on quicker than before, replied: "It
+don't matter; I will never go back--I'm alone now.  What, what shall I
+do?" and she wrung her hands.
+
+The traveller's pity was deeply moved.  "My good girl," said he,
+earnestly, "you have saved my life, and I am not ungrateful.  Here" (and
+he placed some gold in her hand), "get yourself a lodging, food and
+rest; you look as if you wanted them; and see me again this evening when
+it is dark and we can talk unobserved."
+
+The girl took the money passively, and looked up in his face while he
+spoke; the look was so unsuspecting, and the whole countenance was so
+beautifully modest and virgin-like, that had any evil passion prompted
+the traveller's last words, it must have fled scared and abashed as he
+met the gaze.
+
+"My poor girl," said he, embarrassed, and after a short pause; "you are
+very young, and very, very pretty.  In this town you will be exposed to
+many temptations: take care where you lodge; you have, no doubt, friends
+here?"
+
+"Friends?--what are friends?" answered Alice.
+
+"Have you no relations?--no /mother's kin/?"
+
+"None."
+
+"Do you know where to ask shelter?"
+
+"No, sir; for I can't go where father goes, lest he should find me out."
+
+"Well, then, seek some quiet inn, and meet me this evening just here,
+half a mile from the town, at seven.  I will try and think of something
+for you in the meanwhile.  But you seem tired, you walk with pain;
+perhaps it will fatigue you to come--I mean, you had rather perhaps rest
+another day."
+
+"Oh no, no! it will do me good to see you again, sir."
+
+The young man's eyes met hers, and hers were not withdrawn; their soft
+blue was suffused with tears--they penetrated his soul.  He turned away
+hastily, and saw that they were already the subject of curious
+observation to the various passengers that overtook them.  "Don't
+forget!" he whispered, and strode on with a pace that soon brought him
+to the town.
+
+He inquired for the principal hotel--entered it with an air that bespoke
+that nameless consciousness of superiority which belongs to those
+accustomed to purchase welcome wherever welcome is bought and sold--and
+before a blazing fire and no unsubstantial breakfast, forgot all the
+terrors of the past night, or rather felt rejoiced to think he had added
+a new and strange hazard to the catalogue of adventures already
+experienced by Ernest Maltravers.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+  "Con una Dama tenia
+   Un galan conversacion."*
+     MORATIN: /El Teatro Espanol/.--Num. 15.
+
+* With a dame he held a gallant conversation.
+
+MALTRAVERS was first at the appointed place.  His character was in most
+respects singularly energetic, decided, and premature in its
+development; but not so in regard to women: with them he was the
+creature of the moment; and, driven to and fro by whatever impulse, or
+whatever passion, caught the caprice of a wild, roving, and all-poetical
+imagination, Maltravers was, half unconsciously, a poet--a poet of
+action, and woman was his muse.
+
+He had formed no plan of conduct towards the poor girl he was to meet.
+He meant no harm to her.  If she had been less handsome, he would have
+been equally grateful; and her dress, and youth, and condition, would
+equally have compelled him to select the hour of dusk for an interview.
+
+He arrived at the spot.  The winter night had already descended; but a
+sharp frost had set in: the air was clear, the stars were bright, and
+the long shadows slept, still and calm, along the broad road, and the
+whitened fields beyond.
+
+He walked briskly to and fro, without much thought of the interview, or
+its object, half chanting old verses, German and English, to himself,
+and stopping to gaze every moment at the silent stars.
+
+At length he saw Alice approach: she came up to him timidly and gently.
+His heart beat more quickly; he felt that he was young and alone with
+beauty.  "Sweet girl," he said, with involuntary and mechanical
+compliment, "how well this light becomes you.  How shall I thank you for
+not forgetting me?"
+
+Alice surrendered her hand to his without a struggle.
+
+"What is your name?" said he, bending his face down to hers.
+
+"Alice Darvil."
+
+"And your terrible father,--/is/ he, in truth, your father?"
+
+"Indeed he is my father and mother too!"
+
+"What made you suspect his intention to murder me?  Has he ever
+attempted the like crime?"
+
+"No; but lately he has often talked of robbery.  He is very poor, sir.
+And when I saw his eye, and when afterwards, while your back was turned,
+he took the key from the door, I felt that--that you were in danger."
+
+"Good girl--go on."
+
+"I told him so when we went up-stairs.  I did not know what to believe,
+when he said he would not hurt you; but I stole the key of the front
+door, which he had thrown on the table, and went to my room.  I listened
+at my door; I heard him go down the stairs--he stopped there for some
+time; and I watched him from above.  The place where he was opened to
+the field by the back-way.  After some time, I heard a voice whisper
+him; I knew the voice, and then they both went out by the back-way; so I
+stole down, and went out and listened; and I knew the other man was John
+Walters.  I'm afraid of /him/, sir.  And then Walters said, says he, 'I
+will get the hammer, and, sleep or wake, we'll do it.'  And father said,
+'It's in the shed.'  So I saw there was no time to be lost, sir,
+and--and--but you know all the rest."
+
+"But how did you escape?"
+
+"Oh, my father, after talking to Walters, came to my room, and beat
+and--and--frightened me; and when he was gone to bed, I put on my
+clothes, and stole out; it was just light; and I walked on till I met
+you."
+
+"Poor child, in what a den of vice you have been brought up!"
+
+"Anan, sir."
+
+"She don't understand me.  Have you been taught to read and write?"
+
+"Oh no!"
+
+"But I suppose you have been taught, at least, to say your
+catechism--and you pray sometimes?"
+
+"I have prayed to father not to beat me."
+
+"But to God?"
+
+"God, sir--what is that?"*
+
+* This ignorance--indeed the whole sketch of Alice--is from the life;
+nor is such ignorance, accompanied by what almost seems an instinctive
+or intuitive notion of right or wrong, very uncommon, as our police
+reports can testify.  In the /Examiner/ for, I think, the year 1835,
+will be found the case of a young girl ill-treated by her father, whose
+answers to the interrogatories of the magistrate are very similar to
+those of Alice to the questions of Maltravers.
+
+Maltravers drew back, shocked and appalled.  Premature philosopher as he
+was, this depth of ignorance perplexed his wisdom.  He had read all the
+disputes of schoolmen, whether or not the notion of a Supreme Being is
+innate; but he had never before been brought face to face with a living
+creature who was unconscious of a God.
+
+After a pause, he said: "My poor girl, we misunderstand each other.  You
+know that there is a God?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Did no one ever tell you who made the stars you now survey--the earth
+on which you tread?"
+
+"No."
+
+"And have you never thought about it yourself?"
+
+"Why should I?  What has that to do with being cold and hungry?"
+
+Maltravers looked incredulous.  "You see that great building, with the
+spire rising in the starlight?"
+
+"Yes, sir, sure."
+
+"What is it called?"
+
+"Why, a church."
+
+"Did you never go into it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"What do people do there?"
+
+"Father says one man talks nonsense, and the other folk listen to him."
+
+"Your father is--no matter.  Good heavens! what shall I do with this
+unhappy child?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I am very unhappy," said Alice, catching at the last words;
+and the tears rolled silently down her cheeks.
+
+Maltravers never was more touched in his life.  Whatever thoughts of
+gallantry might have entered his young head, had he found Alice such as
+he might reasonably have expected, he now felt that there was a kind of
+sanctity in her ignorance; and his gratitude and kindly sentiment
+towards her took almost a brotherly aspect.--"You know, at least, what
+school is?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, I have talked with girls who go to school."
+
+"Would you like to go there, too?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir, pray not!"
+
+"What should you like to do, then?  Speak out, child.  I owe you so
+much, that I should be too happy to make you comfortable and contented
+in your own way."
+
+"I should like to live with you, sir."  Maltravers started, and half
+smiled, and coloured.  But looking on her eyes, which were fixed
+earnestly on his, there was so much artlessness in their soft,
+unconscious gaze, that he saw she was wholly ignorant of the
+interpretation that might be put upon so candid a confession.
+
+I have said that Maltravers was a wild, enthusiastic, odd being--he was,
+in fact, full of strange German romance and metaphysical speculations.
+He had once shut himself up for months to study astrology--and been even
+suspected of a serious hunt after the philosopher's stone; another time
+he had narrowly escaped with life and liberty from a frantic conspiracy
+of the young republicans of his university, in which, being bolder and
+madder than most of them, he had been an active ringleader; it was,
+indeed, some such folly that had compelled him to quit Germany sooner
+than himself or his parents desired.  He had nothing of the sober
+Englishman about him.  Whatever was strange and eccentric had an
+irresistible charm for Ernest Maltravers.  And agreeably to this
+disposition, he now revolved an idea that enchanted his mobile and
+fantastic philosophy.  He himself would educate this charming girl--he
+would write fair and heavenly characters upon this blank page--he would
+act the Saint Preux to this Julie of Nature.  Alas, he did not think of
+the result which the parallel should have suggested.  At that age,
+Ernest Maltravers never damped the ardour of an experiment by the
+anticipation of consequences.
+
+"So," he said, after a short reverie, "so you would like to live with
+me?  But, Alice, we must not fall in love with each other."
+
+"I don't understand, sir."
+
+"Never mind," said Maltravers, a little disconcerted.
+
+"I always wished to go into service."
+
+"Ha!"
+
+"And you would be a kind master."
+
+Maltravers was half disenchanted.
+
+"No very flattering preference," thought he: "so much the safer for us.
+Well, Alice, it shall be as you wish.  Are you comfortable where you
+are, in your new lodgings?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why, they do not insult you?"
+
+"No; but they make a noise, and I like to be quiet to think of you."
+
+The young philosopher was reconciled again to his scheme.
+
+"Well, Alice--go back--I will take a cottage to-morrow, and you shall be
+my servant, and I will teach you to read and write and say your prayers,
+and know that you have a Father above who loves you better than he
+below.  Meet me again at the same hour to-morrow.  Why do you cry,
+Alice? why do you cry?"
+
+"Because--because," sobbed the girl, "I am so happy, and I shall live
+with you and see you."
+
+"Go, child--go, child," said Maltravers, hastily; and he walked away
+with a quicker pulse than became his new character of master and
+preceptor.
+
+He looked back, and saw the girl gazing at him; he waved his hand, and
+she moved on and followed him slowly back to the town.
+
+Maltravers, though not an elder son, was the heir of affluent fortunes;
+he enjoyed a munificent allowance that sufficed for the whims of a youth
+who had learned in Germany none of the extravagant notions common to
+young Englishmen of similar birth and prospects.  He was a spoiled
+child, with no law but his own fancy,--his return home was not
+expected,--there was nothing to prevent the indulgence of his new
+caprice.  The next day he hired a cottage in the neighbourhood, which
+was one of those pretty thatched edifices, with verandas and monthly
+roses, a conservatory and a lawn, which justify the English proverb
+about a cottage and love.  It had been built by a mercantile bachelor
+for some Fair Rosamond, and did credit to his taste.  An old woman, let
+with the house, was to cook and do the work.  Alice was but a nominal
+servant.  Neither the old woman nor the landlord comprehended the
+Platonic intentions of the young stranger.  But he paid his rent in
+advance, and they were not particular.  He, however, thought it prudent
+to conceal his name.  It was one sure to be known in a town not very
+distant from the residence of his father, a wealthy and long-descended
+country gentleman.  He adopted, therefore, the common name of Butler;
+which, indeed, belonged to one of his maternal connections, and by that
+name alone was he known in the neighbourhood and to Alice.  From her he
+would not have sought concealment,--but somehow or other no occasion
+ever presented itself to induce him to talk much to her of his parentage
+or birth.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+  "Thought would destroy their Paradise."--GRAY.
+
+MALTRAVERS found Alice as docile a pupil as any reasonable preceptor
+might have desired.  But still, reading and writing--they are very
+uninteresting elements!  Had the groundwork been laid, it might have
+been delightful to raise the fairy palace of knowledge; but the digging
+the foundations and the constructing the cellars is weary labour.
+Perhaps he felt it so; for in a few days Alice was handed over to the
+very oldest and ugliest writing-master that the neighbouring town could
+afford.  The poor girl at first wept much at the exchange; but the grave
+remonstrances and solemn exhortations of Maltravers reconciled her at
+last, and she promised to work hard and pay every attention to her
+lessons.  I am not sure, however, that it was the tedium of the work
+that deterred the idealist--perhaps he felt its danger--and at the
+bottom of his sparkling dreams and brilliant follies lay a sound,
+generous, and noble heart.  He was fond of pleasure, and had been
+already the darling of the sentimental German ladies.  But he was too
+young and too vivid, and too romantic, to be what is called a
+sensualist.  He could not look upon a fair face, and a guileless smile,
+and all the ineffable symmetry of a woman's shape, with the eye of a man
+buying cattle for base uses.  He very easily fell in love, or fancied he
+did, it is true,--but then he could not separate desire from fancy, or
+calculate the game of passion without bringing the heart or the
+imagination into the matter.  And though Alice was very pretty and very
+engaging, he was not yet in love with her, and he had no intention of
+becoming so.
+
+He felt the evening somewhat long, when for the first time Alice
+discontinued her usual lesson; but Maltravers had abundant resources in
+himself.  He placed Shakespeare and Schiller on his table, and lighted
+his German meerschaum--he read till he became inspired, and then he
+wrote--and when he had composed a few stanzas he was not contented till
+he had set them to music, and tried their melody with his voice.  For he
+had all the passion of a German for song, and music--that wild
+Maltravers!--and his voice was sweet, his taste consummate, his science
+profound.  As the sun puts out a star, so the full blaze of his
+imagination, fairly kindled, extinguished for the time his fairy fancy
+for his beautiful pupil.
+
+It was late that night when Maltravers went to bed--and as he passed
+through the narrow corridor that led to his chamber he heard a light
+step flying before him, and caught the glimpse of a female figure
+escaping through a distant door.  "The silly child," thought he, at once
+divining the cause; "she has been listening to my singing.  I shall
+scold her."  But he forgot that resolution.
+
+The next day, and the next, and many days passed, and Maltravers saw but
+little of the pupil for whose sake he had shut himself up in a country
+cottage, in the depth of winter.  Still he did not repent his purpose,
+nor was he in the least tired of his seclusion--he would not inspect
+Alice's progress, for he was certain he should be dissatisfied with its
+slowness--and people, however handsome, cannot learn to read and write
+in a day.  But he amused himself, notwithstanding.  He was glad of an
+opportunity to be alone with his own thoughts, for he was at one of
+those periodical epochs of life when we like to pause and breathe a
+while, in brief respite from that methodical race in which we run to the
+grave.  He wished to re-collect the stores of his past experience, and
+repose on his own mind, before he started afresh upon the active world.
+The weather was cold and inclement; but Ernest Maltravers was a hardy
+lover of nature, and neither snow nor frost could detain him from his
+daily rambles.  So, about noon, he regularly threw aside books and
+papers, took his hat and staff, and went whistling or humming his
+favourite airs through the dreary streets, or along the bleak waters, or
+amidst the leafless woods, just as the humour seized him; for he was not
+an Edwin or Harold, who reserved speculation only for lonely brooks and
+pastoral hills.  Maltravers delighted to contemplate nature in men as
+well as in sheep or trees.  The humblest alley in a crowded town had
+something poetical for him; he was ever ready to mix in a crowd, if it
+were only gathered round a barrel-organ or a dog-fight, and listen to
+all that was said and notice all that was done.  And this I take to be
+the true poetical temperament essential to every artist who aspires to
+be something more than a scene-painter.  But, above all things, he was
+most interested in any display of human passions or affections; he loved
+to see the true colours of the heart, where they are most
+transparent--in the uneducated and poor--for he was something of an
+optimist, and had a hearty faith in the loveliness of our nature.
+Perhaps, indeed, he owed much of the insight into and mastery over
+character that he was afterwards considered to display, to his disbelief
+that there is any wickedness so dark as not to be susceptible of the
+light in some place or another.  But Maltravers had his fits of
+unsociability, and then nothing but the most solitary scenes delighted
+him.  Winter or summer, barren waste or prodigal verdure, all had beauty
+in his eyes; for their beauty lay in his own soul, through which he
+beheld them.  From these walks he would return home at dusk, take his
+simple meal, rhyme or read away the long evenings with such alternation
+as music or the dreamy thoughts of a young man with gay life before him
+could afford.  Happy Maltravers!--youth and genius have luxuries all the
+Rothschilds cannot purchase!  And yet, Maltravers, you are
+ambitious!--life moves too slowly for you!--you would push on the wheels
+of the clock!--Fool--brilliant fool!--you are eighteen, and a
+poet!--What more can you desire?--Bid Time stop for ever!
+
+One morning Ernest rose earlier than his wont, and sauntered carelessly
+through the conservatory which adjoined his sitting-room; observing the
+plants with placid curiosity (for besides being a little of a botanist,
+he had odd visionary notions about the life of plants, and he saw in
+them a hundred mysteries which the herbalists do not teach us), when he
+heard a low and very musical voice singing at a little distance.  He
+listened, and recognised, with surprise, words of his own, which he had
+lately set to music, and was sufficiently pleased with to sing nightly.
+
+When the song ended, Maltravers stole softly through the conservatory,
+and as he opened the door which led into the garden, he saw at the open
+window of a little room which was apportioned to Alice, and jutted out
+from the building in the fanciful irregularity common to ornamental
+cottages, the form of his discarded pupil.  She did not observe him, and
+it was not till he twice called her by name, that she started from her
+thoughtful and melancholy posture.
+
+"Alice," said he, gently, "put on your bonnet, and walk with me in the
+garden: you look pale, child; the fresh air will do you good."
+
+Alice coloured and smiled, and in a few moments was by his side.
+Maltravers, meanwhile, had gone in and lighted his meerschaum, for it
+was his great inspirer whenever his thoughts were perplexed, or he felt
+his usual fluency likely to fail him, and such was the case now.  With
+this faithful ally he awaited Alice in the little walk that circled the
+lawn, amidst shrubs and evergreens.
+
+"Alice," said he after a pause; but he stopped short.
+
+Alice looked up at him with grave respect.
+
+"Tush!" said Maltravers; "perhaps the smoke is unpleasant to you.  It is
+a bad habit of mine."
+
+"No, sir," answered Alice; and she seemed disappointed.  Maltravers
+paused, and picked up a snowdrop.
+
+"It is pretty," he said; "do you love flowers?"
+
+"Oh, dearly," answered Alice, with some enthusiasm; "I never saw many
+till I came here."
+
+"Now then I can go on," thought Maltravers; why, I cannot say, for I do
+not see the /sequitur/; but on he went /in medias res/.  "Alice, you
+sing charmingly."
+
+"Ah! sir, you--you--" she stopped abruptly, and trembled visibly.
+
+"Yes, I overheard you, Alice."
+
+"And you are angry?"
+
+"I!--Heaven forbid!  It is a /talent/--but you don't know what that is;
+I mean it is an excellent thing to have an ear; and a voice, and a heart
+for music; and you have all three."
+
+He paused, for he felt his hand touched; Alice suddenly clasped and
+kissed it.  Maltravers thrilled through his whole frame; but there was
+something in the girl's look that showed she was wholly unaware that she
+had committed an unmaidenly or forward action.
+
+"I was so afraid you would be angry," she said, wiping her eyes as she
+dropped his hand; "and now I suppose you know all."
+
+"All!"
+
+"Yes; how I listened to you every evening, and lay awake the whole night
+with the music ringing in my ears, till I tried to go over it myself;
+and so at last I ventured to sing aloud.  I like that much better than
+learning to read."
+
+All this was delightful to Maltravers: the girl had touched upon one of
+his weak points; however, he remained silent.  Alice continued:
+
+"And now, sir, I hope you will let me come and sit outside the door
+every evening and hear you; I will make no noise--I will be so quiet."
+
+"What, in that cold corridor, these bitter nights?"
+
+"I am used to cold, sir.  Father would not let me have a fire when he
+was not at home."
+
+"No, Alice, but you shall come into the room while I play, and I will
+give you a lesson or two.  I am glad you have so good an ear; it may be
+a means of your earning your own honest livelihood when you leave me."
+
+"When I--but I never intend to leave you, sir!" said Alice, beginning
+fearfully and ending calmly.
+
+Maltravers had recourse to the meerschaum.
+
+Luckily, perhaps, at this time, they were joined by Mr. Simcox, the old
+writing-master.  Alice went in to prepare her books; but Maltravers laid
+his hand upon the preceptor's shoulder.
+
+"You have a quick pupil, I hope, sir?" said he.
+
+"Oh, very, very, Mr. Butler.  She comes on famously.  She practises a
+great deal when I am away, and I do my best."
+
+"And," asked Maltravers, in a grave tone, "have you succeeded in
+instilling into the poor child's mind some of those more sacred notions
+of which I spoke to you at our first meeting?"
+
+"Why, sir, she was indeed quite a heathen--quite a Mahometan, I may say;
+but she is a little better now."
+
+"What have you taught her?"
+
+"That God made her."
+
+"That is a great step."
+
+"And that He loves good girls, and will watch over them."
+
+"Bravo!  You beat Plato."
+
+"No, sir, I never beat any one, except little Jack Turner; but he is a
+dunce."
+
+"Bah!  What else do you teach her?"
+
+"That the devil runs away with bad girls, and--"
+
+"Stop there, Mr. Simcox.  Never mind the devil yet a while.  Let her
+first learn to do good, that God may love her; the rest will follow.  I
+would rather make people religious through their best feelings than
+their worst,--through their gratitude and affections, rather than their
+fears and calculations of risk and punishment."
+
+Mr. Simcox stared.
+
+"Does she say her prayers?"
+
+"I have taught her a short one."
+
+"Did she learn it readily?"
+
+"Lord love her, yes!  When I told her she ought to pray to God to bless
+her benefactor, she would not rest till I had repeated a prayer out of
+our Sunday School book, and she got it by heart at once."
+
+"Enough, Mr. Simcox.  I will not detain you longer."
+
+Forgetful of his untasted breakfast, Maltravers continued his meerschaum
+and his reflections: he did not cease, till he had convinced himself
+that he was but doing his duty to Alice, by teaching her to cultivate
+the charming talent she evidently possessed, and through which she might
+secure her own independence.  He fancied that he should thus relieve
+himself of a charge and responsibility which often perplexed him.  Alice
+would leave him, enabled to walk the world in an honest professional
+path.  It was an excellent idea.  "But there is danger," whispered
+Conscience.  "Ay," answered Philosophy and Pride, those wise dupes that
+are always so solemn and always so taken in; "but what is virtue without
+trial?"
+
+And now every evening, when the windows were closed, and the hearth
+burnt clear, while the winds stormed, and the rain beat without, a lithe
+and lovely shape hovered about the student's chamber; and his wild songs
+were sung by a voice which Nature had made even sweeter than his own.
+
+Alice's talent for music was indeed surprising; enthusiastic and quick
+as he himself was in all he undertook, Maltravers was amazed at her
+rapid progress.  He soon taught her to play by ear; and Maltravers could
+not but notice that her hand, always delicate in shape, had lost the
+rude colour and roughness of labour.  He thought of that pretty hand
+more often than he ought to have done, and guided it over the keys when
+it could have found its way very well without him.
+
+On coming to the cottage he had directed the old servant to provide
+suitable and proper clothes for Alice; but now that she was admitted "to
+sit with the gentleman," the crone had the sense, without waiting for
+new orders, to buy the "pretty young woman" garments, still indeed
+simple, but of better materials and less rustic fashion; and Alice's
+redundant tresses were now carefully arranged into orderly and glossy
+curls, and even the texture was no longer the same; and happiness and
+health bloomed on her downy cheeks, and smiled from the dewy lips, which
+never quite closed over the fresh white teeth, except when she was
+sad--but that seemed never, now she was not banished from Maltravers.
+
+To say nothing of the unusual grace and delicacy of Alice's form and
+features, there is nearly always something of Nature's own gentility in
+very young women (except, indeed, when they get together and fall
+a-giggling); it shames us men to see how much sooner they are polished
+into conventional shape than our rough, masculine angles.  A vulgar boy
+requires Heaven knows what assiduity to make three steps--I do not say
+like a gentleman, but like a body that has a soul in it; but give the
+least advantage of society or tuition to a peasant girl, and a hundred
+to one but she will glide into refinement before the boy can make a bow
+without upsetting the table.  There is sentiment in all women, and
+sentiment gives delicacy to thought, and tact to manner.  But sentiment
+with men is generally acquired, an offspring of the intellectual
+quality, not, as with the other sex, of the moral.
+
+In the course of his musical and vocal lessons, Maltravers gently took
+the occasion to correct poor Alice's frequent offences against grammar
+and accent: and her memory was prodigiously quick and retentive.  The
+very tones of her voice seemed altered in the ear of Maltravers; and,
+somehow or other, the time came when he was no longer sensible of the
+difference in their rank.
+
+The old woman-servant, when she had seen how it would be from the first,
+and taken a pride in her own prophecy, as she ordered Alice's new
+dresses, was a much better philosopher than Maltravers; though he was
+already up to his ears in the moonlit abyss of Plato, and had filled a
+dozen commonplace books with criticisms on Kant.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+  "Young man, I fear thy blood is rosy red,
+   Thy heart is soft."
+     D'AGUILAR'S /Fiesco/, Act iii. Sc. 1.
+
+As education does not consist in reading and writing only, so Alice,
+while still very backward in those elementary arts, forestalled some of
+their maturest results in her intercourse with Maltravers.  Before the
+inoculation took effect, she caught knowledge in the natural way.  For
+the refinement of a graceful mind and a happy manner is very contagious.
+And Maltravers was encouraged by her quickness in music to attempt such
+instruction in other studies as conversation could afford.  It is a
+better school than parents and masters think for: there was a time when
+all information was given orally; and probably the Athenians learned
+more from hearing Aristotle than we do from reading him.  It was a
+delicious revival of Academe--in the walks, or beneath the rustic
+porticoes of that little cottage--the romantic philosopher and the
+beautiful disciple!  And his talk was much like that of a sage of the
+early world, with some wistful and earnest savage for a listener: of the
+stars and their courses--of beasts, and birds, and fishes, and plants,
+and flowers--the wide family of Nature--of the beneficence and power of
+God;--of the mystic and spiritual history of Man.
+
+Charmed by her attention and docility, Maltravers at length diverged
+from lore into poetry; he would repeat to her the simplest and most
+natural passages he could remember in his favourite poets; he would
+himself compose verses elaborately adapted to her understanding; she
+liked the last the best, and learned them the easiest.  Never had young
+poet a more gracious inspiration, and never did this inharmonious world
+more complacently resolve itself into soft dreams, as if to humour the
+novitiate of the victims it must speedily take into its joyless
+priesthood.  And Alice had now quietly and insensibly carved out her own
+avocations--the tenor of her service.  The plants in the conservatory
+had passed under her care, and no one else was privileged to touch
+Maltravers's books, or arrange the sacred litter of a student's
+apartment.  When he came down in the morning, or returned from his
+walks, everything was in order, yet, by a kind of magic, just as he
+wished it; the flowers he loved best bloomed, fresh-gathered, on his
+table; the very position of the large chair, just in that corner by the
+fireplace, whence, on entering the roof, its hospitable arms opened with
+the most cordial air of welcome, bespoke the presiding genius of a
+woman; and then, precisely as the clock struck eight, Alice entered, so
+pretty and smiling, and happy-looking, that it was no wonder the single
+hour at first allotted to her extended into three.
+
+Was Alice in love with Maltravers?--she certainly did not exhibit the
+symptoms in the ordinary way--she did not grow more reserved, and
+agitated, and timid--there was no worm in the bud of her damask check:
+nay, though from the first she had been tolerably bold; she was more
+free and confidential, more at her ease every day; in fact, she never
+for a moment suspected that she ought to be otherwise; she had not the
+conventional and sensitive delicacy of girls who, whatever their rank of
+life, have been taught that there is a mystery and a peril in love; she
+had a vague idea about girls going wrong, but she did not know that love
+had anything to do with it; on the contrary, according to her father, it
+had connection with money, not love; all that she felt was so natural
+and so very sinless.  Could she help being so delighted to listen to
+him, and so grieved to depart?  What thus she felt she expressed, no
+less simply and no less guilelessly: candour sometimes completely
+blinded and misled him.  No, she could not be in love, or she could not
+so frankly own that she loved him--it was a sisterly and grateful
+sentiment.
+
+"The dear girl--I am rejoiced to think so," said Maltravers to himself;
+"I knew there would be no danger."
+
+Was he not in love himself?--The reader must decide.
+
+"Alice," said Maltravers, one evening after a long pause of thought and
+abstraction on his side, while she was unconsciously practising her last
+lesson on the piano--"Alice,--no, don't turn round--sit where you are,
+but listen to me.  We cannot live always in this way."
+
+Alice was instantly disobedient--she did turn round, and those great
+blue eyes were fixed on his own with such anxiety and alarm, that he had
+no resource but to get up and look round for the meerschaum.  But Alice,
+who divined by an instinct his lightest wish, brought it to him, while
+he was yet hunting, amidst the further corners of the room, in places
+where it was certain not to be.  There it was, already filled with the
+fragrant Salonica glittering with the gilt pastile, which, not too
+healthfully, adulterates the seductive weed with odours that pacify the
+repugnant censure of the fastidious--for Maltravers was an epicurean
+even in his worst habits;--there it was, I say, in that pretty hand
+which he had to touch as he took it; and while he lit the weed he had
+again to blush and shrink beneath those great blue eyes.
+
+"Thank you, Alice," he said; "thank you.  Do sit down there--out of the
+draught.  I am going to open the window, the night is so lovely."
+
+He opened the casement overgrown with creepers, and the moonlight lay
+fair and breathless upon the smooth lawn.  The calm and holiness of the
+night soothed and elevated his thoughts; he had cut himself off from the
+eyes of Alice, and he proceeded with a firm, though gentle voice:
+
+"My dear Alice, we cannot always live together in this way; you are now
+wise enough to understand me, so listen patiently.  A young woman never
+wants a fortune so long as she has a good character; she is always poor
+and despised without one.  Now a good character in this world is lost as
+much by imprudence as guilt; and if you were to live with me much
+longer, it would be imprudent, and your character would suffer so much
+that you would not be able to make your own way in the world; far, then,
+from doing you a service, I should have done you a deadly injury, which
+I could not atone for: besides, Heaven knows what may happen worse than
+imprudence; for, I am very sorry to say," added Maltravers, with great
+gravity, "that you are much too pretty and engaging to--to--in short, it
+won't do.  I must go home; my friends will have a right to complain of
+me if I remain thus lost to them many weeks longer.  And you, my dear
+Alice, are now sufficiently advanced to receive better instruction than
+I or Mr. Simcox can give you.  I therefore propose to place you in some
+respectable family, where you will have more comfort and a higher
+station than you have here.  You can finish your education, and, instead
+of being taught, you will be thus enabled to become a teacher to others.
+With your beauty, Alice" (and Maltravers sighed), "and natural talents,
+and amiable temper, you have only to act well and prudently to secure at
+last a worthy husband and a happy home.  Have you heard me, Alice?  Such
+is the plan I have formed for you."
+
+The young man thought as he spoke, with honest kindness and upright
+honour; it was a bitterer sacrifice than perhaps the reader thinks for.
+But Maltravers, if he had an impassioned, had not a selfish heart; and
+he felt, to use his own expression, more emphatic than eloquent, that
+"it would not do" to live any longer alone with this beautiful girl,
+like the two children whom the good Fairy kept safe from sin and the
+world in the Pavilion of Roses.
+
+But Alice comprehended neither the danger to herself nor the temptations
+that Maltravers, if he could not resist, desired to shun.  She rose,
+pale and trembling--approached Maltravers and laid her hand gently on
+his arm.
+
+"I will go away, when and where you wish--the sooner the
+better--to-morrow--yes, to-morrow; you are ashamed of poor Alice; and it
+has been very silly in me to be so happy."  (She struggled with her
+emotion for a moment, and went on.) "You know Heaven can hear me, even
+when I am away from you, and when I know more I can pray better; and
+Heaven will bless you, sir, and make you happy, for I never can pray for
+anything else."
+
+With these words she turned away, and walked proudly towards the door.
+But when she reached the threshold, she stopped and looked round, as if
+to take a last farewell.  All the associations and memories of that
+beloved spot rushed upon her--she gasped for breath,--tottered,--and
+fell to the ground insensible.
+
+Maltravers was already by her side; he lifted her light weight in his
+arms; he uttered wild and impassioned exclamations--"Alice, beloved
+Alice--forgive me; we will never part!"  He chafed her hands in his own,
+while her head lay on his bosom, and he kissed again and again those
+beautiful eyelids, till they opened slowly upon him, and the tender arms
+tightened round him involuntarily.
+
+"Alice," he whispered--"Alice, dear Alice, I love thee."  Alas, it was
+true: he loved--and forgot all but that love.  He was eighteen.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+  "How like a younker or a prodigal,
+   The scarfed bark puts from her native bay!"
+     /Merchant of Venice/.
+
+WE are apt to connect the voice of Conscience with the stillness of
+midnight.  But I think we wrong that innocent hour.  It is that terrible
+"NEXT MORNING," when reason is wide awake, upon which remorse fastens
+its fangs.  Has a man gambled away his all, or shot his friend in a
+duel--has he committed a crime or incurred a laugh--it is the /next
+morning/, when the irretrievable Past rises before him like a spectre;
+then doth the churchyard of memory yield up its grisly dead--then is the
+witching hour when the foul fiend within us can least tempt perhaps, but
+most torment.  At night we have one thing to hope for, one refuge to fly
+to--oblivion and sleep!  But at morning, sleep is over, and we are
+called upon coldly to review, and re-act, and live again the waking
+bitterness of self-reproach.  Maltravers rose a penitent and unhappy
+man--remorse was new to him, and he felt as if he had committed a
+treacherous and fraudulent as well as guilty deed.  This poor girl,
+she was so innocent, so confiding, so unprotected, even by her own
+sense of right.  He went down-stairs listless and dispirited.  He
+longed yet dreaded to encounter Alice.  He heard her step in the
+conservatory--paused, irresolute, and at length joined her.  For the
+first time she blushed and trembled, and her eyes shunned his.  But when
+he kissed her hand in silence, she whispered, "And am I now to leave
+you?"  And Maltravers answered fervently, "Never!" and then her face
+grew so radiant with joy that Maltravers was comforted despite himself.
+Alice knew no remorse, though she felt agitated and ashamed; as she had
+not comprehended the danger, neither was she aware of the fall.  In
+fact, she never thought of herself.  Her whole soul was with him; she
+gave him back in love the spirit she had caught from him in knowledge.
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+And they strolled together through the garden all that day, and
+Maltravers grew reconciled to himself.  He had done wrong, it is true;
+but then perhaps Alice had already suffered as much as she could in the
+world's opinion, by living with him alone, though innocent, so long.
+And now she had an everlasting claim to his protection--she should never
+know shame or want.  And the love that had led to the wrong should, by
+fidelity and devotion, take from it the character of sin.
+
+Natural and commonplace sophistries!  /L'homme se pique!/ as old
+Montaigne said; Man is his own sharper!  The conscience is the most
+elastic material in the world.  To-day you cannot stretch it over a
+mole-hill, to-morrow it hides a mountain.
+
+O how happy they were now--that young pair!  How the days flew like
+dreams!  Time went on, winter passed away, and the early spring, with
+its flowers and sunshine, was like a mirror to their own youth.  Alice
+never accompanied Maltravers in his walks abroad, partly because she
+feared to meet her father, and partly because Maltravers himself was
+fastidiously averse to all publicity.  But then they had all that little
+world of three acres--lawn and fountain, shrubbery and terrace, to
+themselves, and Alice never asked if there was any other world without.
+She was now quite a scholar, as Mr. Simcox himself averred.  She could
+read aloud and fluently to Maltravers, and copied out his poetry in a
+small, fluctuating hand, and he had no longer to chase throughout his
+vocabulary for short Saxon monosyllables to make the bridge of
+intercourse between their ideas.  Eros and Psyche are ever united, and
+Love opens all the petals of the soul.  On one subject alone, Maltravers
+was less eloquent than of yore.  He had not succeeded as a moralist, and
+he thought it hypocritical to preach what he did not practise.  But
+Alice was gentler and purer, and as far as she knew, sweet fool! better
+than ever--she had invented a new prayer for herself; and she prayed as
+regularly and as fervently as if she were doing nothing amiss.  But the
+code of Heaven is gentler than that of earth, and does not declare that
+ignorance excuseth not the crime.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+  "Some clouds sweep on as vultures for their prey.
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+   No azure more shall robe the firmament,
+   Nor spangled stars be glorious."
+     BYRON, /Heaven and Earth/.
+
+IT was a lovely evening in April, the weather was unusually mild and
+serene for the time of year, in the northern districts of our isle, and
+the bright drops of a recent shower sparkled upon the buds of the lilac
+and laburnum that clustered round the cottage of Maltravers.  The little
+fountain that played in the centre of a circular basin, on whose clear
+surface the broad-leaved water-lily cast its fairy shadow, added to the
+fresh green of the lawn;
+
+  "And softe as velvet the yonge grass,"
+
+on which the rare and early flowers were closing their heavy lids.  That
+twilight shower had given a racy and vigorous sweetness to the air which
+stole over many a bank of violets, and slightly stirred the golden
+ringlets of Alice as she sate by the side of her entranced and silent
+lover.  They were seated on a rustic bench just without the cottage, and
+the open window behind them admitted the view of that happy room--with
+its litter of books and musical instruments--eloquent of the POETRY of
+HOME.
+
+Maltravers was silent, for his flexile and excitable fancy was conjuring
+up a thousand shapes along the transparent air, or upon those shadowy
+violet banks.  He was not thinking, he was imagining.  His genius
+reposed dreamily upon the calm, but exquisite sense of his happiness.
+Alice was not absolutely in his thoughts, but unconsciously she coloured
+them all--if she had left his side, the whole charm would have been
+broken.  But Alice, who was not a poet or a genius, /was/ thinking, and
+thinking only of Maltravers. . . . His image was "the broken mirror"
+multiplied in a thousand faithful fragments over everything fair and
+soft in that lovely microcosm before her.  But they were both alike in
+one thing--they were not with the Future, they were sensible of the
+Present--the sense of the actual life, the enjoyment of the breathing
+time was strong within them.  Such is the privilege of the extremes of
+our existence--Youth and Age.  Middle life is never with to-day, its
+home is in to-morrow . . . anxious, and scheming, and desiring, and
+wishing this plot ripened, and that hope fulfilled, while every wave of
+the forgotten Time brings it nearer and nearer to the end of all things.
+Half our life is consumed in longing to be nearer death.
+
+"Alice," said Maltravers, waking at last from his reverie, and drawing
+that light, childlike form nearer to him, "you enjoy this hour as much
+as I do."
+
+"Oh, much more!"
+
+"More! and why so?"
+
+"Because I am thinking of you, and perhaps you are not thinking of
+yourself."
+
+Maltravers smiled and stroked those beautiful ringlets, and kissed that
+smooth, innocent forehead, and Alice nestled herself in his breast.
+
+"How young you look by this light, Alice!" said he, tenderly looking
+down.
+
+"Would you love me less if I were old?" asked Alice.
+
+"I suppose I should never have loved you in the same way if you had been
+old when I first saw you."
+
+"Yet I am sure I should have felt the same for you if you had been--oh!
+ever so old!"
+
+"What, with wrinkled cheeks, and palsied head, and a brown wig, and no
+teeth, like Mr. Simcox?"
+
+"Oh, but you could never be like that!  You would always look
+young--your heart would be always in your face.  That clear smile--ah,
+you would look beautiful to the last!"
+
+"But Simcox, though not very lovely now, has been, I dare say, handsomer
+than I am, Alice; and I shall be contented to look as well when I am as
+old!"
+
+"I should never know you were old, because I can see you just as I
+please.  Sometimes, when you are thoughtful, your brows meet, and you
+look so stern that I tremble; but then I think of you when you last
+smiled, and look up again, and though you are frowning still, you seem
+to smile.  I am sure you are different to other eyes than to mine . . .
+and time must kill /me/ before, in my sight, it could alter /you/."
+
+"Sweet Alice, you talk eloquently, for you talk love."
+
+"My heart talks to you.  Ah! I wish it could say all I felt.  I wish it
+could make poetry like you, or that words were music--I would never
+speak to you in anything else.  I was so delighted to learn music,
+because when I played I seemed to be talking to you.  I am sure that
+whoever invented music did it because he loved dearly and wanted to say
+so.  I said '/he/,' but I think it was a woman.  Was it?"
+
+"The Greeks I told you of, and whose life was music, thought it was a
+god."
+
+"Ah, but you say the Greeks made Love a god.  Were they wicked for it?"
+
+"Our own God above is Love," said Ernest, seriously, "as our own poets
+have said and sung.  But it is a love of another nature--divine, not
+human.  Come, we will go within, the air grows cold for you."
+
+They entered, his arm round her waist.  The room smiled upon them its
+quiet welcome; and Alice, whose heart had not half vented its fulness,
+sat down to the instrument still to "talk love" in her own way.
+
+But it was Saturday evening.  Now every Saturday, Maltravers received
+from the neighbouring town the provincial newspaper--it was his only
+medium of communication with the great world.  But it was not for that
+communication that he always seized it with avidity, and fed on it with
+interest.  The county in which his father resided bordered on the shire
+in which Ernest sojourned, and the paper included the news of that
+familiar district in its comprehensive columns.  It therefore satisfied
+Ernest's conscience and soothed his filial anxieties to read from time
+to time that "Mr. Maltravers was entertaining a distinguished party of
+friends at his noble mansion of Lisle Court;" or that "Mr. Maltravers's
+foxhounds had met on such a day at something copse;" or that, "Mr.
+Maltravers, with his usual munificence, had subscribed twenty guineas to
+the new county gaol." . . . And as now Maltravers saw the expected paper
+laid beside the hissing urn, he seized it eagerly, tore the envelope,
+and hastened to the well-known corner appropriated to the paternal
+district.  The very first words that struck his eye were these:
+
+
+     ALARMING ILLNESS OF MR. MALTRAVERS.
+
+"We regret to state that this exemplary and distinguished gentleman was
+suddenly seized on Wednesday night with a severe spasmodic affection.
+Dr. ------ was immediately sent for, who pronounced it to be gout in the
+stomach.  The first medical assistance from London has been summoned.
+
+"Postscript.--We have just learned, in answer to our inquiries at Lisle
+Court, that the respected owner is considerably worse: but slight hopes
+are entertained of his recovery.  Captain Maltravers, his eldest son and
+heir, is at Lisle Court.  An express has been despatched in search of
+Mr. Ernest Maltravers, who, involved by his high English spirit in some
+dispute with the authorities of a despotic government, had suddenly
+disappeared from Gottingen, where his extraordinary talents had highly
+distinguished him.  He is supposed to be staying at Paris."
+
+
+The paper dropped on the floor.  Ernest threw himself back on the chair,
+and covered his face with his hands.
+
+Alice was beside him in a moment.  He looked up, and caught her wistful
+and terrified gaze.  "Oh, Alice!" he cried, bitterly, and almost pushing
+her away, "if you could but guess my remorse!"  Then springing on his
+feet, he hurried from the room.
+
+Presently the whole house was in commotion.  The gardener, who was
+always in the house about supper-time, flew to the town for post-horses.
+The old woman was in despair about the laundress, for her first and only
+thought was for "master's shirts."  Ernest locked himself in his room.
+Alice! poor Alice!
+
+In little more than twenty minutes, the chaise was at the door: and
+Ernest, pale as death, came into the room where he had left Alice.
+
+She was seated on the floor, and the fatal paper was on her lap.  She
+had been endeavouring, in vain, to learn what had so sensibly affected
+Maltravers, for, as I said before, she was unacquainted with his real
+name, and therefore the ominous paragraph did not even arrest her eye.
+
+He took the paper from her, for he wanted again and again to read it:
+some little word of hope or encouragement must have escaped him.  And
+then Alice flung herself on his breast.  "Do not weep," said he; "Heaven
+knows I have sorrow enough of my own!  My father is dying!  So kind, so
+generous, so indulgent!  O God, forgive me!  Compose yourself, Alice.
+You will hear from me in a day or two."
+
+He kissed her, but the kiss was cold and forced.  He hurried away.  She
+heard the wheels grate on the pebbles.  She rushed to the window; but
+that beloved face was not visible.  Maltravers had drawn the blinds, and
+thrown himself back to indulge his grief.  A moment more, and even the
+vehicle that bore him away was gone.  And before her were the flowers,
+and the starlit lawn, and the playful fountain, and the bench where they
+had sat in such heartfelt and serene delight.  He was gone; and often,
+oh, how often, did Alice remember that his last words had been uttered
+in estranged tones--that his last embrace had been without love!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+       "Thy due from me
+   Is tears: and heavy sorrows of the blood,
+   Which nature, love, and filial tenderness
+   Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously!"
+     /Second Part of Henry IV./, Act iv. Sc. 4.
+
+IT was late at night when the chaise that bore Maltravers stopped at the
+gates of a park lodge.  It seemed an age before the peasant within was
+aroused from the deep sleep of labour-loving health.  "My father," he
+cried, while the gate creaked on its hinges; "my father--is he better?
+Is he alive?"
+
+"Oh, bless your heart, Master Ernest, the squire was a little better
+this evening."
+
+"Thank Heaven!--On--on!"
+
+The horses smoked and galloped along a road that wound through venerable
+and ancient groves.  The moonlight slept soft upon the sward, and the
+cattle, disturbed from their sleep, rose lazily up, and gazed upon the
+unseasonable intruder.
+
+It is a wild and weird scene, one of those noble English parks at
+midnight, with its rough forest-ground broken into dell and valley, its
+never-innovated and mossy grass, overrun with fern, and its immemorial
+trees, that have looked upon the birth, and look yet upon the graves, of
+a hundred generations.  Such spots are the last proud and melancholy
+trace of Norman knighthood and old romance left to the laughing
+landscapes of cultivated England.  They always throw something of shadow
+and solemn gloom upon minds that feels their associations, like that
+which belongs to some ancient and holy edifice.  They are the cathedral
+aisles of Nature with their darkened vistas, and columned trunks, and
+arches of mighty foliage.  But in ordinary times the gloom is pleasing,
+and more delightful than all the cheerful lawns and sunny slopes of the
+modern taste.  /Now/ to Maltravers it was ominous and oppressive: the
+darkness of death seemed brooding in every shadow, and its warning voice
+moaning in every breeze.
+
+The wheels stopped again.  Lights flitted across the basement story; and
+one above, more dim than the rest, shone palely from the room in which
+the sick man slept.  The bell rang shrilly out from amidst the dark ivy
+that clung around the porch.  The heavy door swung back--Maltravers was
+on the threshold.  His father lived--was better--was awake.  The son was
+in the father's arms.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+       "The guardian oak
+   Mourn'd o'er the roof it shelter'd: the thick air
+   Labour'd with doleful sounds."
+     ELLIOTT of /Sheffield/.
+
+MANY days had passed, and Alice was still alone; but she had heard twice
+from Maltravers.  The letters were short and hurried.  One time his
+father was better, and there were hopes; another time, and it was not
+expected that he could survive the week.  They were the first letters
+Alice had ever received from him.  Those /first/ letters are an event in
+a girl's life--in Alice's life they were a very melancholy one.  Ernest
+did not ask her to write to him; in fact, he felt, at such an hour, a
+repugnance to disclose his real name, and receive the letters of
+clandestine love in the house in which a father lay in death.  He might
+have given the feigned address he had previously assumed, at some
+distant post-town, where his person was not known.  But, then, to obtain
+such letters, he must quit his father's side for hours.  The thing was
+impossible.  These difficulties Maltravers did not explain to Alice.
+
+She thought it singular he did not wish to hear from her; but Alice was
+humble.  What could she say worth troubling him with, and at such an
+hour?  But how kind in him to write! how precious those letters! and yet
+they disappointed her, and cost her floods of tears: they were so
+short--so full of sorrow--there was so little love in them; and "dear,"
+or even "/dearest/ Alice," that uttered by the voice was so tender,
+looked cold upon the lifeless paper.  If she but knew the exact spot
+where he was it would be some comfort; but she only knew that he was
+away, and in grief; and though he was little more than thirty miles
+distant, she felt as if immeasurable space divided them.  However, she
+consoled herself as she could; and strove to shorten the long miserable
+day by playing over all the airs he liked, and reading all the passages
+he had commended.  She should be so improved when he returned; and how
+lovely the garden would look; for every day its trees and bouquets
+caught a new smile from the deepening spring.  Oh, they would be so
+happy once more!  Alice /now/ learned the life that lies in the future;
+and her young heart had not, as yet, been taught that of that future
+there is any prophet but Hope!
+
+Maltravers, on quitting the cottage, had forgotten that Alice was
+without money, and now that he found his stay would be indefinitely
+prolonged, he sent a remittance.  Several bills were unpaid--some
+portion of the rent was due; and Alice, as she was desired, intrusted
+the old servant with a bank note, with which she was to discharge these
+petty debts.  One evening, as she brought Alice the surplus, the good
+dame seemed greatly discomposed.  She was pale and agitated; or, as she
+expressed it, "had a terrible fit of the shakes."
+
+"What is the matter, Mrs. Jones? you have no news of him--of--of my--of
+your master?"
+
+"Dear heart, miss--no," answered Mrs. Jones; "how should I?  But I'm
+sure I don't wish to frighten you; there has been two sich robberies in
+the neighbourhood!"
+
+"Oh, thank Heaven that's all!" exclaimed Alice.
+
+"Oh, don't go for to thank Heaven for that, miss; it's a shocking thing
+for two lone females like us, and them 'ere windows all open to the
+ground!  You sees, as I was taking the note to be changed at Mr.
+Harris's, the great grocer's shop, where all the poor folk was a-buying
+agin to-morrow" (for it was Saturday night, the second Saturday after
+Ernest's departure; from that Hegira Alice dated all her chronology),
+"and everybody was a-talking about the robberies last night.  La, miss,
+they bound old Betty--you know Betty--a most respectable 'oman, who has
+known sorrows, and drinks tea with me once a week.  Well, miss, they
+(only think!) bound Betty to the bedpost, with nothing on her but her
+shift--poor old soul!  And as Mr. Harris gave me the change (please to
+see, miss, it's all right), and I asked for half gould, miss, it's more
+convenient, sich an ill-looking fellow was by me, a-buying o' baccy, and
+he did so stare at the money, that I vows I thought he'd have rin away
+with it from the counter; so I grabbled it up and went away.  But, would
+you believe, miss, just as I got into the lane, afore you turns through
+the gate, I chanced to look back, and there, sure enough, was that ugly
+fellow close behind, a-running like mad.  Oh, I set up such a screetch;
+and young Dobbins was a-taking his cow out of the field, and he perked
+up over the hedge when he heard me; and the cow, too, with her horns,
+Lord bless her!  So the fellow stopped, and I bustled through the gate,
+and got home.  But la, miss, if we are all robbed and murdered?"
+
+Alice had not heard much of this harangue; but what she did hear very
+slightly affected her strong, peasant-born nerves; not half so much
+indeed, as the noise Mrs. Jones made in double-locking all the doors,
+and barring, as well as a peg and a rusty inch of chain would allow, all
+the windows--which operation occupied at least an hour and a half.
+
+All at last was still.  Mrs. Jones had gone to bed--in the arms of sleep
+she had forgotten her terrors--and Alice had crept up-stairs, and
+undressed, and said her prayers, and wept a little; and, with the tears
+yet moist upon her dark eyelashes, had glided into dreams of Ernest.
+Midnight was passed--the stroke of one sounded unheard from the clock at
+the foot of the stars.  The moon was gone--a slow, drizzling rain was
+falling upon the flowers, and cloud and darkness gathered fast and thick
+around the sky.
+
+About this time, a low, regular, grating sound commenced at the thin
+shutters of the sitting-room below, preceded by a very faint noise, like
+the tinkling of small fragments of glass on the gravel without.  At
+length it ceased, and the cautious and partial gleam of a lanthorn fell
+along the floor; another moment, and two men stood in the room.
+
+"Hush, Jack!" whispered one: "hang out the glim, and let's look about
+us."
+
+The dark-lanthorn, now fairly unmuffled, presented to the gaze of the
+robbers nothing that could gratify their cupidity.
+
+Books and music, chairs, tables, carpet, and fire-irons, though valuable
+enough in a house-agent's inventory, are worthless to the eyes of a
+housebreaker.  They muttered a mutual curse.
+
+"Jack," said the former speaker, "we must make a dash at the spoons and
+forks, and then hey for the money.  The old girl had thirty shiners,
+besides flimsies."
+
+The accomplice nodded consent; the lanthorn was again partially shaded,
+and with noiseless and stealthy steps the men quitted the apartment.
+Several minutes elapsed, when Alice was awakened from her slumber by a
+loud scream she started, all was again silent: she must have dreamt it:
+her little heart beat violently at first, but gradually regained its
+tenor.  She rose, however, and the kindness of her nature being more
+susceptible than her fear, she imagined Mrs. Jones might be ill--she
+would go to her.  With this idea she began partially dressing herself,
+when she distinctly heard heavy footsteps and a strange voice in the
+room beyond.  She was now thoroughly alarmed--her first impulse was to
+escape from the house--her next to bolt the door, and call aloud for
+assistance.  But who would hear her cries?  Between the two purposes,
+she halted irresolute . . . and remained, pale and trembling, seated at
+the foot of the bed, when a broad light streamed through the chinks of
+the door--an instant more, and a rude hand seized her.
+
+"Come, mem, don't be fritted, we won't harm you; but where's the
+gold-dust--where's the money?--the old girl says you've got it.  Fork it
+over."
+
+"O mercy, mercy!  John Walters, is that you?"
+
+"Damnation!" muttered the man, staggering back; "so you knows me then;
+but you sha'n't peach; you sha'n't scrag me, b---t you."
+
+While he spoke, he again seized Alice, held her forcibly down with one
+hand, while with the other he deliberately drew from a side pouch a long
+case-knife.  In that moment of deadly peril, the second ruffian, who had
+been hitherto delayed in securing the servant, rushed forward.  He had
+heard the exclamation of Alice, he heard the threat of his comrade; he
+darted to the bedside, cast a hurried gaze upon Alice, and hurled the
+intended murderer to the other side of the room.
+
+"What, man, art mad?" he growled between his teeth.  "Don't you know
+her?  It is Alice;--it is my daughter."
+
+Alice had sprung up when released from the murderer's knife, and now,
+with eyes strained and starting with horror, gazed upon the dark and
+evil face of her deliverer.
+
+"O God, it is--it is my father!" she muttered, and fell senseless.
+
+"Daughter or no daughter," said John Walters, "I shall not put my scrag
+in her power; recollect how she fritted us before, when she run away."
+
+Darvil stood thoughtful and perplexed; and his associate approached
+doggedly with a look of such settled ferocity as it was impossible for
+even Darvil to contemplate without a shudder.
+
+"You say right," muttered the father, after a pause, but fixing his
+strong gripe on his comrade's shoulder,--"the girl must not be left
+here--the cart has a covering.  We are leaving the country; I have a
+right to my daughter--she shall go with us.  There, man, grab the
+money--it's on the table; . . . . you've got the spoons.  Now then--" as
+Darvil spoke he seized his daughter in his arms; threw over her a shawl
+and a cloak that lay at hand, and was already on the threshold.
+
+"I don't half like it," said Walters, grumblingly--"it been't safe."
+
+"At least it is as safe as murder!" answered Darvil, turning round, with
+a ghastly grin.  "Make haste."
+
+When Alice recovered her senses, the dawn was breaking slowly along
+desolate and sullen hills.  She was lying upon rough straw--the cart was
+jolting over the ruts of a precipitous, lonely road,--and by her side
+scowled the face of that dreadful father.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+  "Yet he beholds her with the eyes of mind--
+   He sees the form which he no more shall meet;
+   She like a passionate thought is come and gone,
+   While at his feet the bright rill bubbles on."
+     ELLIOTT /of Sheffield/.
+
+IT was a little more than three weeks after that fearful night, when the
+chaise of Maltravers stopped at the cottage door--the windows were shut
+up; no one answered the repeated summons of the post-boy.  Maltravers
+himself, alarmed and amazed, descended from the vehicle: he was in deep
+mourning.  He went impatiently to the back entrance; that also was
+locked; round to the French windows of the drawing-room, always hitherto
+half-opened, even in the frosty days of winter,--they were now closed
+like the rest.  He shouted in terror, "Alice, Alice!"--no sweet voice
+answered in breathless joy, no fairy step bounded forward in welcome.
+At this moment, however, appeared the form of the gardener coming across
+the lawn.  The tale was soon told; the house had been robbed--the old
+woman at morning found gagged and fastened to her bed-post--Alice flown.
+A magistrate had been applied to,--suspicion fell upon the fugitive.
+None knew anything of her origin or name, not even the old woman.
+Maltravers had naturally and sedulously ordained Alice to preserve that
+secret, and she was too much in fear of being detected and claimed by
+her father not to obey the injunction with scrupulous caution.  But it
+was known, at least, that she had entered the house a poor peasant girl;
+and what more common than for ladies of a certain description to run
+away from their lover, and take some of his property by mistake?  And a
+poor girl like Alice, what else could be expected?  The magistrate
+smiled, and the constables laughed.  After all, it was a good joke at
+the young gentleman's expense!  Perhaps, as they had no orders from
+Maltravers, and they did not know where to find him, and thought he
+would be little inclined to prosecute, the search was not very rigorous.
+But two houses had been robbed the night before.  Their owners were more
+on the alert.  Suspicion fell upon a man of infamous character, John
+Walters; he had disappeared from the place.  He had been last seen with
+an idle, drunken fellow, who was said to have known better days, and who
+at one time had been a skilful and well-paid mechanic, till his habits
+of theft and drunkenness threw him out of employ; and he had been since
+accused of connection with a gang of coiners--tried--and escaped from
+want of sufficient evidence against him.  That man was Luke Darvil.  His
+cottage was searched; but he also had fled.  The trace of cart-wheels by
+the gate of Maltravers gave a faint clue to pursuit; and after an active
+search of some days, persons answering to the description of the
+suspected burglars--with a young female in their company--were tracked
+to a small inn, notorious as a resort for smugglers, by the sea-coast.
+But there every vestige of their supposed whereabouts disappeared.
+
+And all this was told to the stunned Maltravers; the garrulity of the
+gardener precluded the necessity of his own inquiries, and the name of
+Darvil explained to him all that was dark to others.  And Alice was
+suspected of the basest and the blackest guilt!  Obscure, beloved,
+protected as she had been, she could not escape the calumny from which
+he had hoped everlastingly to shield her.  But did /he/ share that
+hateful thought?  Maltravers was too generous and too enlightened.
+
+"Dog!" said he, grinding his teeth, and clenching his hands, at the
+startled menial, "dare to utter a syllable of suspicion against her, and
+I will trample the breath out of your body!"
+
+The old woman, who had vowed that for the 'varsal world she would not
+stay in the house after such a "night of shakes," had now learned the
+news of her master's return, and came hobbling up to him.  She arrived
+in time to hear his menace to her fellow-servant.
+
+"Ah, that's right; give it him, your honour; bless your good
+heart!--that's what I says.  Miss rob the house! says I--Miss run away.
+Oh no--depend on it they have murdered her and buried the body."
+
+Maltravers gasped for breath, but without uttering another word he
+re-entered the chaise and drove to the house of the magistrate.  He
+found that functionary a worthy and intelligent man of the world.  To
+him he confided the secret of Alice's birth and his own.  The magistrate
+concurred with him in believing that Alice had been discovered and
+removed by her father.  New search was made--gold was lavished.
+Maltravers himself headed the search in person.  But all came to the
+same result as before, save that by the descriptions he heard of the
+person--the dress--the tears, of the young female who had accompanied
+the men supposed to be Darvil and Walters, he was satisfied that Alice
+yet lived; he hoped she might yet escape and return.  In that hope he
+lingered for weeks--for months, in the neighbourhood; but time passed
+and no tidings. . . . He was forced at length to quit a neighbourhood at
+once so saddened and endeared.  But he secured a friend in the
+magistrate, who promised to communicate with him if Alice returned, or
+her father was discovered.  He enriched Mrs. Jones for life, in
+gratitude for her vindication of his lost and early love; he promised
+the amplest rewards for the smallest clue.  And with a crushed and
+desponding spirit, he obeyed at last the repeated and anxious summons of
+the guardian to whose care, until his majority was attained, the young
+orphan was now entrusted.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+  "Sure there are poets that did never dream
+   Upon Parnassus."--DENHAM.
+
+  "Walk sober off, before a sprightlier age
+   Come tittering on, and shove you from the stage."--POPE.
+
+  "Hence to repose your trust in me was wise."
+     DRYDEN'S /Absalom and Achitophel/.
+
+MR. FREDERICK CLEVELAND, a younger son of the Earl of Byrneham, and
+therefore entitled to the style and distinction of "Honourable," was the
+guardian of Ernest Maltravers.  He was now about the age of forty-three;
+a man of letters and a man of fashion, if the last half-obsolete
+expression be permitted to us, as being at least more classical and
+definite than any other which modern euphuism has invented to convey the
+same meaning.  Highly educated, and with natural abilities considerably
+above mediocrity, Mr. Cleveland early in life had glowed with the
+ambition of an author. . . . He had written well and gracefully--but his
+success, though respectable, did not satisfy his aspirations.  The fact
+is, that a new school of literature ruled the public, despite the
+critics--a school very different from that in which Mr. Cleveland formed
+his unimpassioned and polished periods.  And as that old Earl, who in
+the time of Charles the First was the reigning wit of the court, in the
+time of Charles the Second was considered too dull even for a butt, so
+every age has its own literary stamp and coinage, and consigns the old
+circulation to its shelves and cabinets as neglected curiosities.
+Cleveland could not become the fashion with the public as an author,
+though the coteries cried him up and the reviewers adored him--and the
+ladies of quality and the amateur dilettanti bought and bound his
+volumes of careful poetry and cadenced prose.  But Cleveland had high
+birth and a handsome competence--his manners were delightful, his
+conversation fluent--and his disposition was as amiable as his mind was
+cultured.  He became, therefore, a man greatly sought after in society
+both respected and beloved.  If he had not genius, he had great good
+sense; he did not vex his urbane temper and kindly heart with walking
+after a vain shadow, and disquieting himself in vain.  Satisfied with an
+honourable and unenvied reputation, he gave up the dream of that higher
+fame which he clearly saw was denied to his aspirations--and maintained
+his good-humour with the world, though in his secret soul he thought it
+was very wrong in its literary caprices.  Cleveland never married: he
+lived partly in town, but principally at Temple Grove, a villa not far
+from Richmond.  Here, with an excellent library, beautiful grounds, and
+a circle of attached and admiring friends, which comprised all the more
+refined and intellectual members of what is termed, by emphasis, /Good
+Society/--this accomplished and elegant person passed a life perhaps
+much happier than he would have known had his young visions been
+fulfilled, and it had become his stormy fate to lead the rebellious and
+fierce Democracy of Letters.
+
+Cleveland was indeed, if not a man of high and original genius, at least
+very superior to the generality of patrician authors.  In retiring,
+himself, from frequent exercise in the arena, he gave up his mind with
+renewed zest to the thoughts and masterpieces of others.  From a
+well-read man, he became a deeply instructed one.  Metaphysics, and some
+of the material sciences, added new treasures to information more light
+and miscellaneous, and contributed to impart weight and dignity to a
+mind that might otherwise have become somewhat effeminate and frivolous.
+His social habits, his clear sense, and benevolence of judgment, made
+him also an exquisite judge of all those indefinable nothings, or little
+things, that, formed into a total, become knowledge of the Great World.
+I say the Great World--for of the world without the circle of the great,
+Cleveland naturally knew but little.  But of all that related to that
+subtle orbit in which gentlemen and ladies move in elevated and ethereal
+order, Cleveland was a profound philosopher.  It was the mode with many
+of his admirers to style him the Horace Walpole of the day.  But though
+in some of the more external and superficial points of character they
+were alike, Cleveland had considerably less cleverness, and infinitely
+more heart.
+
+The late Mr. Maltravers, a man not indeed of literary habits but an
+admirer of those who were--an elegant, high-bred, hospitable /seigneur
+de province/--had been one of the earliest of Cleveland's
+friends--Cleveland had been his fag at Eton--and he found Hal
+Maltravers--(Handsome Hal!) had become the darling of the clubs, when he
+made his own /debut/ in society.  They were inseparable for a season or
+two--and when Mr. Maltravers married, and enamoured of country pursuits,
+proud of his old hall, and sensibly enough conceiving that he was a
+greater man in his own broad lands than in the republican aristocracy of
+London, settled peaceably at Lisle Court, Cleveland corresponded with
+him regularly, and visited him twice a year.  Mrs. Maltravers died in
+giving birth to Ernest, her second son.  Her husband loved her tenderly,
+and was long inconsolable for her loss.  He could not bear the sight of
+the child that had cost him so dear a sacrifice.  Cleveland and his
+sister, Lady Julia Danvers, were residing with him at the time of this
+melancholy event; and with judicious and delicate kindness, Lady Julia
+proposed to place the unconscious offender amongst her own children for
+some months.  The proposition was accepted, and it was two years before
+the infant Ernest was restored to the paternal mansion.  During the
+greater part of that time, he had gone through all the events and
+revolutions of baby life under the bachelor roof of Frederick Cleveland.
+
+The result of this was, that the latter loved the child like a father.
+Ernest's first intelligible word hailed Cleveland as "papa;" and when
+the urchin was at length deposited at Lisle Court, Cleveland talked all
+the nurses out of breath with admonitions, and cautions, and
+injunctions, and promises, and threats, which might have put many a
+careful mother to the blush.  This circumstance formed a new tie between
+Cleveland and his friend.  Cleveland's visits were now three times a
+year instead of twice.  Nothing was done for Ernest without Cleveland's
+advice.  He was not even breeched till Cleveland gave his grave consent.
+Cleveland chose his school, and took him to it,--and he spent a week of
+every vacation in Cleveland's house.  The boy never got into a scrape,
+or won a prize, or wanted /a tip/, or coveted a book, but what Cleveland
+was the first to know of it.  Fortunately, too, Ernest manifested by
+times tastes which the graceful author thought similar to his own.  He
+early developed very remarkable talents, and a love for learning--though
+these were accompanied with a vigour of life and soul--an energy--a
+daring--which gave Cleveland some uneasiness, and which did not appear
+to him at all congenial with the moody shyness of an embryo genius, or
+the regular placidity of a precocious scholar.  Meanwhile the relation
+between father and son was rather a singular one.  Mr. Maltravers had
+overcome his first, not unnatural, repugnance to the innocent cause of
+his irremediable loss.  He was now fond and proud of his boy--as he was
+of all things that belonged to him.  He spoiled and petted him even more
+than Cleveland did.  But he interfered very little with his education or
+pursuits.  His eldest son, Cuthbert, did not engross all his heart, but
+occupied all his care.  With Cuthbert he connected the heritage of his
+ancient name, and the succession of his ancestral estates.  Cuthbert was
+not a genius, nor intended to be one; he was to be an accomplished
+gentleman, and a great proprietor.  The father understood Cuthbert, and
+could see clearly both his character and career.  He had no scruple in
+managing his education, and forming his growing mind.  But Ernest
+puzzled him.  Mr. Maltravers was even a little embarrassed in the boy's
+society; he never quite overcame that feeling of strangeness towards him
+which he had experienced when he first received him back from Cleveland,
+and took Cleveland's directions about his health and so forth.  It
+always seemed to him as if his friend shared his right to the child; and
+he thought it a sort of presumption to scold Ernest, though he very
+often swore at Cuthbert.  As the younger son grew up, it certainly was
+evident that Cleveland did understand him better than his own father
+did; and so, as I have before said, on Cleveland the father was not
+displeased passively to shift the responsibility of the rearing.
+
+Perhaps Mr. Maltravers might not have been so indifferent, had Ernest's
+prospects been those of a younger son in general.  If a profession had
+been necessary for him, Mr. Maltravers would have been naturally anxious
+to see him duly fitted for it.  But from a maternal relation Ernest
+inherited an estate of about four thousand pounds a year; and he was
+thus made independent of his father.  This loosened another tie between
+them; and so by degrees Mr. Maltravers learned to consider Ernest less
+as his own son, to be advised or rebuked, praised or controlled, than as
+a very affectionate, promising, engaging boy, who, somehow or other,
+without any trouble on his part, was very likely to do great credit to
+his family, and indulge his eccentricities upon four thousand pounds a
+year.  The first time that Mr. Maltravers was seriously perplexed about
+him was when the boy, at the age of sixteen, having taught himself
+German, and intoxicated his wild fancies with /Werter/ and /The
+Robbers/, announced his desire, which sounded very like a demand, of
+going to Gottingen instead of to Oxford.  Never were Mr. Maltravers's
+notions of a proper and gentlemanlike finish to education more
+completely and rudely assaulted.  He stammered out a negative, and
+hurried to his study to write a long letter to Cleveland, who, himself
+an Oxford prize-man, would, he was persuaded, see the matter in the same
+light.  Cleveland answered the letter in person: listened in silence to
+all the father had to say, and then strolled through the park with the
+young man.  The result of the latter conference was, that Cleveland
+declared in favour of Ernest.
+
+"But, my dear Frederick," said the astonished father, "I thought the boy
+was to carry off all the prizes at Oxford?"
+
+"I carried off some, Maltravers; but I don't see what good they did me."
+
+"Oh, Cleveland!"
+
+"I am serious."
+
+"But it is such a very odd fancy."
+
+"Your son is a very odd young man."
+
+"I fear he is so--I fear he is, poor fellow!  But what will he learn at
+Gottingen?"
+
+"Languages and Independence," said Cleveland.
+
+"And the classics--the classics--you are such an excellent Grecian!"
+
+"There are great Grecians in Germany," answered Cleveland; "and Ernest
+cannot well unlearn what he knows already.  My dear Maltravers, the boy
+is not like most clever young men.  He must either go through action,
+and adventure, and excitement in his own way, or he will be an idle
+dreamer, or an impracticable enthusiast all his life.  Let him
+alone.--So Cuthbert is gone into the Guards?"
+
+"But he went first to Oxford."
+
+"Humph!  What a fine young man he is!"
+
+"Not so tall as Ernest, but--"
+
+"A handsome face," said Cleveland.  "He is a son to be proud of in one
+way, as I hope Ernest will be in another.  Will you show me your new
+hunter?"
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+It was to the house of this gentleman, so judiciously made his guardian,
+that the student of Gottingen now took his melancholy way.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+  "But if a little exercise you choose,
+     Some zest for ease, 'tis not forbidden here;
+   Amid the groves you may indulge the Muse,
+     Or tend the blooms and deck the vernal year."
+          /Castle of Indolence/.
+
+THE house of Mr. Cleveland was an Italian villa adapted to an English
+climate.  Through an Ionic arch you entered a domain of some eighty or a
+hundred acres in extent, but so well planted and so artfully disposed,
+that you could not have supposed the unseen boundaries inclosed no
+ampler a space.  The road wound through the greenest sward, in which
+trees of venerable growth were relieved by a profusion of shrubs, and
+flowers gathered into baskets intertwined with creepers, or blooming
+from classic vases, placed with a tasteful care in such spots as
+required the /filling up/, and harmonised well with the object chosen.
+Not an old ivy-grown pollard, not a modest and bending willow, but was
+brought out, as it were, into a peculiar feature by the art of the
+owner.  Without being overloaded, or too minutely elaborate (the common
+fault of the rich man's villa), the whole place seemed one diversified
+and cultivated garden; even the air almost took a different odour from
+different vegetation, with each winding of the road;  and the colours of
+the flowers and foliage varied with every view.
+
+At length, when, on a lawn sloping towards a glassy lake overhung by
+limes and chestnuts, and backed by a hanging wood, the house itself came
+in sight, the whole prospect seemed suddenly to receive its finishing
+and crowning feature.  The house was long and low.  A deep peristyle
+that supported the roof extended the whole length, and being raised
+above the basement had the appearance of a covered terrace; broad
+flights of steps, with massive balustrades, supporting vases of aloes
+and orange-trees, led to the lawn; and under the peristyle were ranged
+statues, Roman antiquities and rare exotics.  On this side the lake
+another terrace, very broad, and adorned, at long intervals, with urns
+and sculpture, contrasted the shadowy and sloping bank beyond; and
+commanded, through unexpected openings in the trees, extensive views of
+the distant landscape, with the stately Thames winding through the
+midst.  The interior of the house corresponded with the taste without.
+All the principal rooms, even those appropriated to sleep, were on the
+same floor.  A small but lofty and octagonal hall conducted to a suite
+of four rooms.  At one extremity was a moderately-sized dining-room with
+a ceiling copied from the rich and gay colours of Guido's "Hours;" and
+landscapes painted by Cleveland himself, with no despicable skill, were
+let into the walls.  A single piece of sculpture copied from the Piping
+Faun, and tinged with a flesh-like glow by purple and orange draperies
+behind it, relieved without darkening the broad and arched window which
+formed its niche.  This communicated with a small picture-room, not
+indeed rich with those immortal gems for which princes are candidates;
+for Cleveland's fortune was but that of a private gentleman, though,
+managed with a discreet if liberal economy, it sufficed for all his
+elegant desires.  But the pictures had an interest beyond that of art,
+and their subjects were within the reach of a collector of ordinary
+opulence.  They made a series of portraits--some originals, some copies
+(and the copies were often the best) of Cleveland's favourite authors.
+And it was characteristic of the man, that Pope's worn and thoughtful
+countenance looked down from the central place of honour.  Appropriately
+enough, this room led into the library, the largest room in the house,
+the only one indeed that was noticeable from its size, as well as its
+embellishments.  It was nearly sixty feet in length.  The bookcases were
+crowned with bronze busts, while at intervals statues, placed in open
+arches, backed with mirrors, gave the appearance of galleries, opening
+from the book-lined walls, and introduced an inconceivable air of
+classic lightness and repose into the apartment; with these arches the
+windows harmonised so well, opening on the peristyle, and bringing into
+delightful view the sculpture, the flowers, the terraces, and the lake
+without, that the actual prospects half seduced you into the belief that
+they were designs by some master-hand of the poetical gardens that yet
+crown the hills of Rome.  Even the colouring of the prospects on a sunny
+day favoured the delusion, owing to the deep, rich hues of the simple
+draperies, and the stained glass of which the upper panes of the windows
+were composed.  Cleveland was especially fond of sculpture; he was
+sensible, too, of the mighty impulse which that art has received in
+Europe within the last half century.  He was even capable of asserting
+the doctrine, not yet sufficiently acknowledged in this country, that
+Flaxman surpassed Canova.  He loved sculpture, too, not only for its own
+beauty, but for the beautifying and intellectual effect that it produces
+wherever it is admitted.  It is a great mistake, he was wont to say, in
+collectors of statues, to arrange them /pele mele/ in one long
+monotonous gallery.  The single relief, or statue, or bust, or simple
+urn, introduced appropriately in the smallest apartment we inhabit,
+charms us infinitely more than those gigantic museums, crowded into
+rooms never entered but for show, and without a chill, uncomfortable
+shiver.  Besides, this practice of galleries, which the herd consider
+orthodox, places sculpture out of the patronage of the public.  There
+are not a dozen people who can afford galleries.  But very moderately
+affluent gentlemen can afford a statue or a bust.  The influence, too,
+upon a man's mind and taste, created by the constant and habitual view
+of monuments of the only imperishable art which resorts to physical
+materials, is unspeakable.  Looking upon the Greek marble, we become
+acquainted, almost insensibly, with the character of the Greek life and
+literature.  That Aristides, that Genius of Death, that fragment of the
+unrivalled Psyche, are worth a thousand Scaligers!
+
+"Do you ever look at the Latin translation when you read Aeschylus?"
+said a schoolboy once to Cleveland.
+
+"That is my Latin translation," said Cleveland, pointing to the Laocoon.
+
+The library opened at the extreme end to a small cabinet for curiosities
+and medals, which, still in a straight line, conducted to a long
+belvidere, terminating in a little circular summer-house, that, by a
+sudden wind of the lake below, hung perpendicularly over its transparent
+tide, and, seen from the distance, appeared almost suspended on air, so
+light were its slender columns and arching dome.  Another door from the
+library opened upon a corridor which conducted to the principal
+sleeping-chambers; the nearest door was that of Cleveland's private
+study communicating with his bedroom and dressing-closet.  The other
+rooms were appropriated to, and named after, his several friends.
+
+Mr. Cleveland had been advised by a hasty line of the movements of his
+ward, and he received the young man with a smile of welcome, though his
+eyes were moist and his lips trembled--for the boy was like his
+father!--a new generation had commenced for Cleveland!
+
+"Welcome, my dear Ernest," said he; "I am so glad to see you, that I
+will not scold you for your mysterious absence.  This is your room, you
+see your name over the door; it is a larger one than you used to have,
+for you are a man now; and there is your German sanctum adjoining--for
+Schiller and the meerschaum!--a bad habit that, the meerschaum! but not
+worse than the Schiller, perhaps.  You see you are in the peristyle
+immediately.  The meerschaum is good for flowers, I fancy, so have no
+scruple.  Why, my dear boy, how pale you are!  Be cheered--be cheered.
+Well, I must go myself, or you will infect me."
+
+Cleveland hurried away; he thought of his lost friend.  Ernest sank upon
+the first chair, and buried his face in his hands.  Cleveland's valet
+entered, and bustled about and unpacked the portmanteau, and arranged
+the evening dress.  But Ernest did not look up nor speak; the first bell
+sounded; the second tolled unheard upon his ear.  He was thoroughly
+overcome by his emotions.  The first notes of Cleveland's kind voice had
+touched upon a soft chord, that months of anxiety and excitement had
+strained to anguish, but had never woke to tears.  His nerves were
+shattered--those strong young nerves!  He thought of his dead father
+when he first saw Cleveland; but when he glanced round the room prepared
+for him, and observed the care for his comfort, and the tender
+recollection of his most trifling peculiarities everywhere visible,
+Alice, the watchful, the humble, the loving, the lost Alice rose before
+him.  Surprised at his ward's delay, Cleveland entered the room; there
+sat Ernest still, his face buried in his hands.  Cleveland drew them
+gently away, and Maltravers sobbed like an infant.  It was an easy
+matter to bring tears to the eyes of that young man: a generous or a
+tender thought, an old song, the simplest air of music, sufficed for
+that touch of the mother's nature.  But the vehement and awful passion
+which belongs to manhood when thoroughly unmanned--this was the first
+time in which the relief of that stormy bitterness was known to him!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+  "Musing full sadly in his sullen mind."--SPENSER.
+
+  "There forth issued from under the altar-smoke
+   A dreadful fiend."--/Ibid. on Superstition/.
+
+NINE times out of ten it is over the Bridge of Sighs that we pass the
+narrow gulf from Youth to Manhood.  That interval is usually occupied by
+an ill-placed or disappointed affection.  We recover, and we find
+ourselves a new being.  The intellect has been hardened by the fire
+through which it has passed.  The mind profits by the wrecks of every
+passion, and we may measure our road to wisdom by the sorrows we have
+undergone.
+
+But Maltravers was yet on the bridge, and, for a time, both mind and
+body were prostrate and enfeebled.  Cleveland had the sagacity to
+discover that the affections had their share in the change that he
+grieved to witness, but he had also the delicacy not to force himself
+into the young man's confidence.  But by little and little his kindness
+so completely penetrated the heart of his ward, that Ernest one evening
+told his whole tale.  As a man of the world, Cleveland perhaps rejoiced
+that it was no worse, for he had feared some existing entanglement
+perhaps with a married woman.  But as a man who was better than the
+world in general, he sympathised with the unfortunate girl whom Ernest
+pictured to him in faithful and unflattered colours, and he long forbore
+consolations which he foresaw would be unavailing.  He felt, indeed,
+that Ernest was not a man "to betray the noon of manhood to a
+myrtle-shade:"--that with so sanguine, buoyant, and hardy a temperament,
+he would at length recover from a depression which, if it could bequeath
+a warning, might as well not be wholly divested of remorse.  And he also
+knew that few become either great authors or great men (and he fancied
+Ernest was born to be one or the other) without the fierce emotions and
+passionate struggles, through which the Wilhelm Meister of real life
+must work out his apprenticeship, and attain the Master Rank.  But at
+last he had serious misgivings about the health of his ward.  A constant
+and spectral gloom seemed bearing the young man to the grave.  It was in
+vain that Cleveland, who secretly desired him to thirst for a public
+career, endeavoured to arouse his ambition--the boy's spirit seemed
+quite broken--and the visit of a political character, the mention of a
+political work, drove him at once into his solitary chamber.  At length
+his mental disease took a new turn.  He became, of a sudden, most
+morbidly and fanatically--I was about to say religious: but that is not
+the word; let me call it pseudo-religious.  His strong sense and
+cultivated taste did not allow him to delight in the raving tracts of
+illiterate fanatics--and yet out of the benign and simple elements of
+the Scripture he conjured up for himself a fanaticism quite as gloomy
+and intense.  He lost sight of God the Father, and night and day dreamed
+only of God the Avenger.  His vivid imagination was perverted to raise
+out of its own abyss phantoms of colossal terror.  He shuddered aghast
+at his own creations, and earth and heaven alike seemed black with the
+everlasting wrath.  These symptoms completely baffled and perplexed
+Cleveland.  He knew not what remedy to administer--and to his
+unspeakable grief and surprise he found that Ernest, in the true spirit
+of his strange bigotry, began to regard Cleveland--the amiable, the
+benevolent Cleveland--as one no less out of the pale of grace than
+himself.  His elegant pursuits, his cheerful studies, were considered by
+the young but stern enthusiast as the miserable recreations of Mammon
+and the world.  There seemed every probability that Ernest Maltravers
+would die in a madhouse or, at best, succeed to the delusions without
+the cheerful intervals of Cowper.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+  "Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit,
+   Restless--unfixed in principles and place."--DRYDEN.
+
+  "Whoever acquires a very great number of ideas interesting to
+   the society in which he lives, will be regarded in that society
+   as a man of abilities."--HELVETIUS.
+
+IT was just when Ernest Maltravers was so bad that he could not be worse
+that a young man visited Temple Grove.  The name of this young man was
+Lumley Ferrers, his age was about twenty-six, his fortune about eight
+hundred a year--he followed no profession.  Lumley Ferrers had not what
+is usually called genius; that is, he had no enthusiasm; and if the word
+talent be properly interpreted as meaning the talent of doing something
+better than others, Ferrers had not much to boast of on that score.  He
+had no talent for writing, nor for music, nor painting, nor the ordinary
+round of accomplishments; neither at present had he displayed much of
+the hard and useful talent for action and business.  But Ferrers had
+what is often better than either genius or talent; he had a powerful and
+most acute mind.
+
+He had, moreover, great animation of manner, high physical spirits, a
+witty, odd, racy vein of conversation, determined assurance, and
+profound confidence in his own resources.  He was fond of schemes,
+stratagems, and plots--they amused and excited him--his power of
+sarcasm, and of argument, too, was great, and he usually obtained an
+astonishing influence over those with whom he was brought in contact.
+His high spirits and a most happy frankness of bearing carried off and
+disguised his leading vices of character, which were callousness to
+whatever was affectionate and insensibility to whatever was moral.
+Though less learned than Maltravers, he was on the whole a very
+instructed man.  He mastered the surfaces of many sciences, became
+satisfied of their general principles, and threw the study aside never
+to be forgotten (for his memory was like a vice), but never to be
+prosecuted any further.  To this he added a general acquaintance with
+whatever is most generally acknowledged as standard in ancient or modern
+literature.  What is admired only by a few, Lumley never took the
+trouble to read.  Living amongst trifles, he made them interesting and
+novel by his mode of viewing and treating them.  And here indeed was /a/
+talent--it was the talent of social life--the talent of enjoyment to the
+utmost with the least degree of trouble to himself.  Lumley Ferrers was
+thus exactly one of those men whom everybody calls exceedingly clever,
+and yet it would puzzle one to say in what he was so clever.  It was,
+indeed, that nameless power which belongs to ability, and which makes
+one man superior, on the whole, to another, though in many details by no
+means remarkable.  I think it is Goethe who says somewhere that, in
+reading the life of the greatest genius, we always find that he was
+acquainted with some men superior to himself, who yet never attained to
+general distinction.  To the class of these mystical superior men Lumley
+Ferrers might have belonged; for though an ordinary journalist would
+have beaten him in the arts of composition, few men of genius, however
+eminent, could have felt themselves above Ferrers in the ready grasp and
+plastic vigour of natural intellect.  It only remains to be said of this
+singular young man, whose character as yet was but half developed, that
+he had seen a great deal of the world, and could live at ease and in
+content with all tempers and ranks; fox-hunters or scholars, lawyers or
+poets, patricians or /parvenus/, it was all one to Lumley Ferrers.
+
+Ernest was, as usual, in his own room, when he heard, along the corridor
+without, all that indefinable bustling noise which announces an arrival.
+Next came a most ringing laugh, and then a sharp, clear, vigorous voice,
+that ran through his ears like a dagger.  Ernest was immediately aroused
+to all the majesty of indignant sullenness.  He walked out on the
+terrace of the portico, to avoid the repetition of the disturbance: and
+once more settled back into his broken and hypochondriacal reveries.
+Pacing to and fro that part of the peristyle which occupied the more
+retired wing of the house, with his arms folded, his eyes downcast, his
+brows knit, and all the angel darkened on that countenance which
+formerly looked as if, like truth, it could shame the devil and defy the
+world, Ernest followed the evil thought that mastered him, through the
+Valley of the Shadow.  Suddenly he was aware of something--some obstacle
+which he had not previously encountered.  He started, and saw before him
+a young man, of plain dress, gentlemanlike appearance, and striking
+countenance.
+
+"Mr. Maltravers, I think," said the stranger, and Ernest recognised the
+voice that had so disturbed him: "this is lucky; we can now introduce
+ourselves, for I find Cleveland means us to be intimate.  Mr. Lumley
+Ferrers, Mr. Ernest Maltravers.  There now, I am the elder, so I first
+offer my hand, and grin properly.  People always grin when they make a
+new acquaintance!  Well, that's settled.  Which way are you walking?"
+
+Maltravers could, when he chose it, be as stately as if he had never
+been out of England.  He now drew himself up in displeased astonishment;
+extricated his hand from the gripe of Ferrers, and saying, very coldly,
+"Excuse me, sir, I am busy," stalked back to his chamber.  He threw
+himself into his chair, and was presently forgetful of his late
+annoyance, when, to his inexpressible amazement and wrath, he heard
+again the sharp, clear voice close at his elbow.
+
+Ferrers had followed him through the French casement into the room.
+"You are busy, you say, my dear fellow.  I want to write some letters:
+we sha'n't interrupt each other--don't disturb yourself:" and Ferrers
+seated himself at the writing-table, dipped a pen into the ink, arranged
+blotting-book and paper before him in due order, and was soon employed
+in covering page after page with the most rapid and hieroglyphical
+scrawl that ever engrossed a mistress or perplexed a dun.
+
+"The presuming puppy!" growled Maltravers, half audibly, but effectually
+roused from himself; and examining with some curiosity so cool an
+intruder, he was forced to own that the countenance of Ferrers was not
+that of a puppy.
+
+A forehead compact and solid as a block of granite, overhung small,
+bright, intelligent eyes of a light hazel; the features were handsome,
+yet rather too sharp and fox-like; the complexion, though not highly
+coloured, was of that hardy, healthy hue which generally betokens a
+robust constitution, and high animal spirits; the jaw was massive, and,
+to a physiognomist, betokened firmness and strength of character; but
+the lips, full and large, were those of a sensualist, and their restless
+play, an habitual half smile, spoke of gaiety and humour, though when in
+repose there was in them something furtive and sinister.
+
+Maltravers looked at him in grave silence; but when Ferrers, concluding
+his fourth letter before another man would have got through his first
+page, threw down the pen, and looked full at Maltravers, with a
+good-humoured but penetrating stare, there was something so whimsical in
+the intruder's expression of face, and indeed in the whole scene, that
+Maltravers bit his lip to restrain a smile, the first he had known for
+weeks.
+
+"I see you read, Maltravers," said Ferrers, carelessly turning over the
+volumes on the table.  "All very right: we should begin life with books;
+they multiply the sources of employment; so does capital;--but capital
+is of no use, unless we live on the interest,--books are waste paper,
+unless we spend in action the wisdom we get from thought. Action,
+Maltravers, action; that is the life for us.  At our age we have
+passion, fancy, sentiment; we can't read them away, or scribble them
+away;--we must live upon them generously, but economically."
+
+Maltravers was struck; the intruder was not the empty bore he had chosen
+to fancy him.  He roused himself languidly to reply.  "Life, /Mr./
+Ferrers--"
+
+"Stop, /mon cher/, stop; don't call me Mister; we are to be friends; I
+hate delaying that which /must be/, even by a superfluous dissyllable;
+you are Maltravers, I am Ferrers. But you were going to talk about life.
+Suppose we /live/ a little while, instead of talking about it?  It wants
+an hour to dinner; let us stroll into the grounds; I want to get an
+appetite;--besides, I like nature when there are no Swiss mountains to
+climb before one can arrive at a prospect.  /Allons/!"
+
+"Excuse--" again began Maltravers, half interested, half annoyed.
+
+"I'll be shot if I do.  Come."
+
+Ferrers gave Maltravers his hat, wound his arm into that of his new
+acquaintance, and they were on the broad terrace by the lake before
+Ernest was aware of it.
+
+How animated, how eccentric, how easy was Ferrers' talk (for talk it
+was, rather than conversation, since he had the ball to himself); books,
+and men, and things; he tossed them about and played with them like
+shuttlecocks; and then his egotistical narrative of half a hundred
+adventures, in which he had been the hero, told so, that you laughed at
+him and laughed with him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+  "Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger,
+   Comes dancing from the east."--MILTON.
+
+HITHERTO Ernest had never met with any mind that had exercised a strong
+influence over his own.  At home, at school, at Gottingen, everywhere,
+he had been the brilliant and wayward leader of others, persuading or
+commanding wiser and older heads than his own: even Cleveland always
+yielded to him, though not aware of it.  In fact, it seldom happens that
+we are very strongly influenced by those much older than ourselves.  It
+is the senior, of from two to ten years, that most seduces and enthrals
+us.  He has the same pursuits--views, objects, pleasures, but more art
+and experience in them all.  He goes with us in the path we are ordained
+to tread, but from which the elder generation desires to warn us off.
+There is very little influence where there is not great sympathy. It was
+now an epoch in the intellectual life of Maltravers.  He met for the
+first time with a mind that controlled his own.  Perhaps the physical
+state of his nerves made him less able to cope with the half-bullying,
+but thoroughly good-humoured imperiousness of Ferrers.  Every day this
+stranger became more and more potential with Maltravers.  Ferrers, who
+was an utter egotist, never asked his new friend to give him his
+confidence; he never cared three straws about other people's secrets,
+unless useful to some purpose of his own.  But he talked with so much
+zest about himself--about women and pleasure, and the gay, stirring life
+of cities--that the young spirit of Maltravers was roused from its dark
+lethargy without an effort of its own.  The gloomy phantoms vanished
+gradually--his sense broke from its cloud--he felt once more that God
+had given the sun to light the day, and even in the midst of darkness
+had called up the host of stars.
+
+Perhaps no other person could have succeeded so speedily in curing
+Maltravers of his diseased enthusiasm: a crude or sarcastic unbeliever
+he would not have listened to; a moderate and enlightened divine he
+would have disregarded, as a worldly and cunning adjuster of laws
+celestial with customs earthly.  But Lumley Ferrers, who, when he
+argued, never admitted a sentiment or a simile in reply, who wielded his
+plain iron logic like a hammer, which, though its metal seemed dull,
+kindled the ethereal spark with every stroke--Lumley Ferrers was just
+the man to resist the imagination, and convince the reason, of
+Maltravers; and the moment the matter came to argument, the cure was
+soon completed: for, however we may darken and puzzle ourselves with
+fancies and visions, and the ingenuities of fanatical mysticism, no man
+can mathematically or syllogistically contend that the world which a God
+made, and a Saviour visited, was designed to be damned.
+
+And Ernest Maltravers one night softly stole to his room and opened the
+New Testament, and read its heavenly moralities with purged eyes; and
+when he had done, he fell upon his knees, and prayed the Almighty to
+pardon the ungrateful heart that, worse than the Atheist's, had
+confessed His existence, but denied His goodness.  His sleep was sweet
+and his dreams were cheerful.  Did he rise to find that the penitence
+which had shaken his reason would henceforth suffice to save his life
+from all error?  Alas! remorse overstrained has too often reactions as
+dangerous; and homely Luther says well, that "the mind, like the drunken
+peasant on horseback, when propped on the one side, nods and falls on
+the other."--All that can be said is, that there are certain crises in
+life which leave us long weaker; from which the system recovers with
+frequent revulsion and weary relapse,--but from which, looking back,
+after years have passed on, we date the foundation of strength or the
+cure of disease.  It is not to mean souls that creation is darkened by a
+fear of the anger of Heaven.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+  "There are times when we are diverted out of errors, but could
+   not be preached out of them.--There are practitioners who can cure
+   us of one disorder, though, in ordinary cases, they be but poor
+   physicians--nay, dangerous quacks."-STEPHEN MONTAGUE.
+
+LUMLEY FERRERS had one rule in life; and it was this: to make all things
+and all persons subservient to himself.  And Ferrers now intended to go
+abroad for some years.  He wanted a companion, for he disliked solitude:
+besides, a companion shared the expenses; and a man of eight hundred a
+year, who desires all the luxuries of life, does not despise a partner
+in the taxes to be paid for them.  Ferrers, at this period, rather liked
+Ernest than not: it was convenient to choose friends from those richer
+than himself, and he resolved, when he first came to Temple Grove, that
+Ernest should be his travelling companion.  This resolution formed, it
+was very easy to execute it.
+
+Maltravers was now warmly attached to his new friend, and eager for
+change.  Cleveland was sorry to part with him; but he dreaded a relapse,
+if the young man were again left upon his hands.  Accordingly, the
+guardian's consent was obtained; a travelling carriage was bought, and
+fitted up with every imaginable imperial and /malle/.  A Swiss (half
+valet and half courier) was engaged, one thousand a year was allowed to
+Maltravers;--and one soft and lovely morning, towards the close of
+October, Ferrers and Maltravers found themselves midway on the road to
+Dover.
+
+"How glad I am to get out of England," said Ferrers: "it is a famous
+country for the rich; but here, eight hundred a year, without a
+profession, save that of pleasure, goes upon pepper and salt; it is a
+luxurious competence abroad."
+
+"I think I have heard Cleveland say that you will be rich some day or
+other."
+
+"O yes: I have what are called expectations!  You must know that I have
+a kind of settlement on two stools, the Well-born and the Wealthy; but
+between two stools--you recollect the proverb!  The present Lord
+Saxingham, once plain Frank Lascelles, and my father, Mr. Ferrers, were
+first cousins.  Two or three relations good-naturedly died, and Frank
+Lascelles became an earl; the lands did not go with the coronet; he was
+poor, and married an heiress.  The lady died; her estate was settled on
+her only child, the handsomest little girl you ever saw.  Pretty
+Florence, I often wish I could look up to you!  Her fortune will be
+nearly all at her own disposal, too, when she comes of age; now she is
+in the nursery, 'eating bread and honey.'  My father, less lucky and
+less wise than his cousin, thought fit to marry a Miss Templeton--a
+nobody.  The Saxingham branch of the family politely dropped the
+acquaintance.  Now, my mother had a brother, a clever, plodding fellow,
+in what is called 'business:' he became richer and richer: but my father
+and mother died, and were never the better for it.  And I came of age,
+and /worth/ (I like that expression) not a farthing more or less than
+this often-quoted eight hundred pounds a year.  My rich uncle is
+married, but has no children.  I am, therefore, heir-presumptive,--but
+he is a saint, and close, though ostentatious.  The quarrel between
+Uncle Templeton and the Saxinghams still continues.  Templeton is angry
+if I see the Saxinghams and the Saxinghams--my Lord, at least--is by no
+means so sure that I shall be Templeton's heir as not to feel a doubt
+lest I should some day or other sponge upon his lordship for a place.
+Lord Saxingham is in the administration, you know.  Somehow or other I
+have an equivocal amphibious kind of place in London society, which I
+don't like; on one side I am a patrician connection, whom the /parvenu/
+branches always incline lovingly to--and on the other side I am a
+half-dependent cadet, whom the noble relations look civilly shy at.
+Some day, when I grow tired of travel and idleness, I shall come back
+and wrestle with these little difficulties, conciliate my methodistical
+uncle, and grapple with my noble cousin.  But now I am fit for something
+better than getting on in the world.  Dry chips, not green wood, are the
+things for making a blaze!  How slow this fellow drives!  Hollo, you
+sir! get on! mind, twelve miles to the hour!  You shall have sixpence a
+mile.  Give me your purse, Maltravers; I may as well be cashier, being
+the elder and the wiser man; we can settle accounts at the end of the
+journey.  By Jove, what a pretty girl!"
+
+
+
+BOOK II.
+
+  "He, of wide-blooming youth's fair flower possest,
+   Owns the vain thoughts--the heart that cannot rest!"
+     SIMONIDES, /in Tit. Hum/.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+  "Il y eut certainement quelque chose de singulier dans mes
+   sentimens pour cette charmante femme."*--ROUSSEAU.
+
+* There certainly was something singular in my sentiments for this
+charming woman.
+
+IT was a brilliant ball at the Palazzo of the Austrian embassy at
+Naples: and a crowd of those loungers, whether young or old, who attach
+themselves to the reigning beauty, was gathered round Madame de
+Ventadour.  Generally speaking, there is more caprice than taste in the
+election of a beauty to the Italian throne.  Nothing disappoints a
+stranger more than to see for the first time the woman to whom the world
+has given the golden apple.  Yet he usually falls at last into the
+popular idolatry, and passes with inconceivable rapidity from indignant
+scepticism into superstitious veneration.  In fact, a thousand things
+beside mere symmetry of feature go to make up the Cytherea of the hour.
+--tact in society--the charm of manner--nameless and piquant
+brilliancy.  Where the world find the Graces they proclaim the Venus.
+Few persons attain pre-eminent celebrity for anything, without some
+adventitious and extraneous circumstances which have nothing to do with
+the thing celebrated.  Some qualities or some circumstances throw a
+mysterious or personal charm about them.  "Is Mr. So-and-So really such
+a genius?"  "Is Mrs. Such-a-One really such a beauty?" you ask
+incredulously.  "Oh, yes," is the answer.  "Do you know all about him or
+her?  Such a thing is said, or such a thing has happened."  The idol is
+interesting in itself, and therefore its leading and popular attribute
+is worshipped.
+
+Now Madame de Ventadour was at this time the beauty of Naples: and
+though fifty women in the room were handsomer, no one would have dared
+to say so.  Even the women confessed her pre-eminence--for she was the
+most perfect dresser that even France could exhibit.  And to no
+pretensions do ladies ever concede with so little demur, as those which
+depend upon that feminine art which all study, and in which few excel.
+Women never allow beauty in a face that has an odd-looking bonnet above
+it, nor will they readily allow any one to be ugly whose caps are
+unexceptionable.  Madame de Ventadour had also the magic that results
+from intuitive high breeding, polished by habit to the utmost.  She
+looked and moved the /grande dame/, as if Nature had been employed by
+Rank to make her so.  She was descended from one of the most illustrious
+houses of France; had married at sixteen a man of equal birth, but old,
+dull, and pompous--a caricature rather than a portrait of that great
+French /noblesse/, now almost if not wholly extinct.  But her virtue was
+without a blemish--some said from pride, some said from coldness.  Her
+wit was keen and court-like--lively, yet subdued; for her French high
+breeding was very different from the lethargic and taciturn
+imperturbability of the English.  All silent people can seem
+conventionally elegant.  A groom married a rich lady; he dreaded the
+ridicule of the guests whom his new rank assembled at his table--an
+Oxford clergyman gave him this piece of advice, "Wear a black coat and
+hold your tongue!"  The groom took the hint, and is always considered
+one of the most gentlemanlike fellows in the county.  Conversation is
+the touchstone of the true delicacy and subtle grace which make the
+ideal of the moral mannerism of a court.  And there sat Madame de
+Ventadour, a little apart from the dancers, with the silent English
+dandy Lord Taunton, exquisitely dressed and superbly tall, bolt upright
+behind her chair; and the sentimental German Baron von Schomberg,
+covered with orders, whiskered and wigged to the last hair of
+perfection, sighing at her left hand; and the French minister, shrewd,
+bland, and eloquent, in the chair at her right; and round on all sides
+pressed, and bowed, and complimented, a crowd of diplomatic secretaries
+and Italian princes, whose bank is at the gaming-table, whose estates
+are in their galleries, and who sell a picture, as English gentlemen cut
+down a wood, whenever the cards grow gloomy.  The charming De Ventadour!
+she had attraction for them all! smiles for the silent, badinage for the
+gay, politics for the Frenchman, poetry for the German, the eloquence of
+loveliness for all!  She was looking her best--the slightest possible
+tinge of rouge gave a glow to her transparent complexion, and lighted up
+those large dark sparkling eyes (with a latent softness beneath the
+sparkle) seldom seen but in the French--and widely distinct from the
+unintellectual languish of the Spaniard, or the full and majestic
+fierceness of the Italian gaze.  Her dress of black velvet, and graceful
+hat with its princely plume, contrasted the alabaster whiteness of her
+arms and neck.  And what with the eyes, the skin, the rich colouring of
+the complexion, the rosy lips and the small ivory teeth, no one would
+have had the cold hypercriticism to observe that the chin was too
+pointed, the mouth too wide, and the nose, so beautiful in the front
+face, was far from perfect in the profile.
+
+"Pray was Madame in the Strada Nuova to-day?" asked the German, with as
+much sweetness in his voice as if he had been vowing eternal love.
+
+"What else have we to do with our mornings, we women?" replied Madame de
+Ventadour.  "Our life is a lounge from the cradle to the grave; and our
+afternoons are but the type of our career.  A promenade and a
+crowd,--/voila tout/!  We never see the world except in an open
+carriage."
+
+"It is the pleasantest way of seeing it," said the Frenchman, drily.
+
+"I doubt it; the worst fatigue is that which comes without exercise."
+
+"Will you do me the honour to waltz?" said the tall English lord, who
+had a vague idea that Madame de Ventadour meant she would rather dance
+than sit still.  The Frenchman smiled.
+
+"Lord Taunton enforces your own philosophy," said the minister.
+
+Lord Taunton smiled because every one else smiled; and, besides, he had
+beautiful teeth: but he looked anxious for an answer.
+
+"Not to-night,--I seldom dance.  Who is that very pretty woman?  What
+lovely complexions the English have!  And who," continued Madame de
+Ventadour, without waiting for an answer to the first question, "who is
+that gentleman,--the young one I mean,--leaning against the door?"
+
+"What, with the dark moustache?" said Lord Taunton.  "He is a cousin of
+mine."
+
+"Oh, no; not Colonel Bellfield; I know him--how amusing he is!--no; the
+gentleman I mean wears no moustache."
+
+"Oh, the tall Englishman with the bright eyes and high forehead," said
+the French minister.  "He is just arrived--from the East, I believe."
+
+"It is a striking countenance," said Madame de Ventadour; "there is
+something chivalrous in the turn of the head.  Without doubt, Lord
+Taunton, he is '/noble/'?"
+
+"He is what you call '/noble/,'" replied Lord Taunton--"that is, what we
+call a 'gentleman;' his name is Maltravers.  He lately came of age; and
+has, I believe, rather a good property."
+
+"Monsieur Maltravers; only Monsieur?" repeated Madame de Ventadour.
+
+"Why," said the French minister, "you understand that the English
+/gentilhomme/ does not require a De or a title to distinguish him from
+the /roturier/."
+
+"I know that; but he has an air above a simple /gentilhomme/.  There is
+something /great/ in his look; but it is not, I must own, the
+conventional greatness of rank: perhaps he would have looked the same
+had he been born a peasant."
+
+"You don't think him handsome?" said Lord Taunton, almost angrily (for
+he was one of the Beauty-men, and Beauty-men are sometimes jealous).
+
+"Handsome! I did not say that," replied Madame de Ventadour, smiling;
+"it is rather a fine head than a handsome face.  Is he clever, I
+wonder?--but all you English, milord, are well educated."
+
+"Yes, profound--profound: we are profound, not superficial," replied
+Lord Taunton, drawing down his wrist-bands.
+
+"Will Madame de Ventadour allow me to present to her one of my
+countrymen?" said the English minister approaching--"Mr. Maltravers."
+
+Madame de Ventadour half smiled and half blushed, as she looked up, and
+saw bent admiringly upon her the proud and earnest countenance she had
+remarked.
+
+The introduction made--a few monosyllables exchanged.  The French
+diplomatist rose and walked away with the English one.  Maltravers
+succeeded to the vacant chair.
+
+"Have you been long abroad?" asked Madame de Ventadour.
+
+"Only four years; yet long enough to ask whether I should not be most
+abroad in England."
+
+"You have been in the East--I envy you.  And Greece, and Egypt,--all the
+associations!  You have travelled back into the Past; you have escaped,
+as Madame D'Epinay wished, out of civilisation and into romance."
+
+"Yet Madame D'Epinay passed her own life in making pretty romances out
+of a very agreeable civilisation," said Maltravers, smiling.
+
+"You know her Memoirs, then," said Madame de Ventadour, slightly
+colouring.  "In the current of a more exciting literature few have had
+time for the second-rate writings of a past century."
+
+"Are not those second-rate performances often the most charming," said
+Maltravers, "when the mediocrity of the intellect seems almost as if it
+were the effect of a touching, though too feeble, delicacy of sentiment?
+Madame D'Epinay's Memoirs are of this character.  She was not a virtuous
+woman--but she felt virtue and loved it; she was not a woman of
+genius--but she was tremblingly alive to all the influences of genius.
+Some people seem born with the temperament and the tastes of genius
+without its creative power; they have its nervous system, but something
+is wanting in the intellectual.  They feel acutely, yet express tamely.
+These persons always have in their character an unspeakable kind of
+pathos--a court civilisation produces many of them--and the French
+memoirs of the last century are particularly fraught with such examples.
+This is interesting--the struggle of sensitive minds against the
+lethargy of a society, dull, yet brilliant, that /glares/ them, as it
+were, to sleep.  It comes home to us; for," added Maltravers, with a
+slight change of voice, "how many of us fancy we see our own image in
+the mirror!"
+
+And where was the German baron?--flirting at the other end of the room.
+And the English lord?--dropping monosyllables to dandies by the doorway.
+And the minor satellites?--dancing, whispering, making love, or sipping
+lemonade.  And Madame de Ventadour was alone with the young stranger in
+a crowd of eight hundred persons; and their lips spoke of sentiment, and
+their eyes involuntarily applied it!
+
+While they were thus conversing, Maltravers was suddenly startled by
+hearing close behind him, a sharp, significant voice, saying in French,
+"Hein, hein! I've my suspicions--I've my suspicions."
+
+Madame de Ventadour looked round with a smile.  "It is only my husband,"
+said she, quietly; "let me introduce him to you."
+
+Maltravers rose and bowed to a little thin man, most elaborately
+dressed, and with an immense pair of spectacles upon a long sharp nose.
+
+"Charmed to make your acquaintance, sir!" said Monsieur de Ventadour.
+"Have you been long in Naples? . . . Beautiful weather--won't last
+long--hein, hein, I've my suspicions!  No news as to your parliament--be
+dissolved soon!  Bad opera in London this year!--hein, hein--I've my
+suspicions."
+
+This rapid monologue was delivered with appropriate gesture.  Each new
+sentence Mons. de Ventadour began with a sort of bow, and when it
+dropped in the almost invariable conclusion affirmative of his
+shrewdness and incredulity, he made a mystical sign with his forefinger
+by passing it upward in a parallel line with his nose, which at the same
+time performed its own part in the ceremony by three convulsive
+twitches, that seemed to shake the bridge to its base.
+
+Maltravers looked with mute surprise upon the connubial partner of the
+graceful creature by his side, and Mons. de Ventadour, who had said as
+much as he thought necessary, wound up his eloquence by expressing the
+rapture it would give him to see Mons. Maltravers at his hotel.  Then,
+turning to his wife, he began assuring her of the lateness of the hour,
+and the expediency of departure.  Maltravers glided away, and as he
+regained the door was seized by our old friend, Lumley Ferrers.  "Come,
+my dear fellow," said the latter; "I have been waiting for you this half
+hour.  /Allons/.  But, perhaps, as I am dying to go to bed, you have
+made up your mind to stay supper.  Some people have no regard for other
+people's feelings."
+
+"No, Ferrers, I'm at your service;" and the young man descended the
+stairs and passed along the Chiaja towards their hotel.  As they gained
+the broad and open space on which it stood, with the lovely sea before
+them, sleeping in the arms of the curving shore, Maltravers, who had
+hitherto listened in silence to the volubility of his companion, paused
+abruptly.
+
+"Look at that sea, Ferrers. . . . What a scene!--what delicious air!
+How soft this moonlight!  Can you not fancy the old Greek adventurers,
+when they first colonised this divine Parthenope--the darling of the
+ocean--gazing along those waves, and pining no more for Greece?"
+
+"I cannot fancy anything of the sort," said Ferrers. . . . "And, depend
+upon it, the said gentlemen, at this hour of the night, unless they were
+on some piratical excursion--for they were cursed ruffians, those old
+Greek colonists--were fast asleep in their beds."
+
+"Did you ever write poetry, Ferrers?"
+
+"To be sure; all clever men have written poetry once in their
+lives--small-pox and poetry--they are our two juvenile diseases."
+
+"And did you ever /feel/ poetry!"
+
+"Feel it!"
+
+"Yes, if you put the moon into your verses, did you first feel it
+shining into your heart?"
+
+"My dear Maltravers, if I put the moon into my verses, in all
+probability it was to rhyme to noon.  'The night was at her noon'--is a
+capital ending for the first hexameter--and the moon is booked for the
+next stage.  Come in."
+
+"No, I shall stay out."
+
+"Don't be nonsensical."
+
+"By moonlight there is no nonsense like common sense."
+
+"What! we--who have climbed the Pyramids, and sailed up the Nile, and
+seen magic at Cairo, and been nearly murdered, bagged, and Bosphorized
+at Constantinople, is it for us, who have gone through so many
+adventures, looked on so many scenes, and crowded into four years events
+that would have satisfied the appetite of a cormorant in romance, if it
+had lived to the age of a phoenix;--is it for us to be doing the pretty
+and sighing to the moon, like a black-haired apprentice without a
+neckcloth on board of the Margate hoy?  Nonsense, I say--we have lived
+too much not to have lived away our green sickness of sentiment."
+
+"Perhaps you are right, Ferrers," said Maltravers, smiling.  "But I can
+still enjoy a beautiful night."
+
+"Oh, if you like flies in your soup, as the man said to his guest, when
+he carefully replaced those entomological blackamoors in the tureen,
+after helping himself--if you like flies in your soup, well and
+good--/buona notte/."
+
+Ferrers certainly was right in his theory, that when we have known real
+adventures we grow less morbidly sentimental.  Life is a sleep in which
+we dream most at the commencement and the close--the middle part absorbs
+us too much for dreams.  But still, as Maltravers said, we can enjoy a
+fine night, especially on the shores of Naples.
+
+Maltravers paced musingly to and fro for some time.  His heart was
+softened--old rhymes rang in his ear--old memories passed through his
+brain.  But the sweet dark eyes of Madame de Ventadour shone forth
+through every shadow of the past.  Delicious intoxication--the draught
+of the rose-coloured phial--which is fancy, but seems love!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+  "Then 'gan the Palmer thus--'Most wretched man
+   That to affections dost the bridle lend:
+   In their beginnings they are weak and wan,
+   But soon, through suffrance, growe to fearfull end;
+   While they are weak, betimes with them contend.'"
+     SPENSER.
+
+MALTRAVERS went frequently to the house of Madame de Ventadour--it was
+open twice a week to the world, and thrice a week to friends.
+Maltravers was soon of the latter class.  Madame de Ventadour had been
+in England in her childhood, for her parents had been /emigres/.  She
+spoke English well and fluently, and this pleased Maltravers; for though
+the French language was sufficiently familiar to him, he was like most
+who are more vain of the mind than the person, and proudly averse to
+hazarding his best thoughts in the domino of a foreign language.  We
+don't care how faulty the accent, or how incorrect the idiom, in which
+we talk nothings; but if we utter any of the poetry within us, we
+shudder at the risk of the most trifling solecism.
+
+This was especially the case with Maltravers; for, besides being now
+somewhat ripened from his careless boyhood into a proud and fastidious
+man, he had a natural love for the Becoming.  This love was
+unconsciously visible in trifles: it is the natural parent of Good
+Taste.  And it was indeed an inborn good taste which redeemed Ernest's
+natural carelessness in those personal matters in which young men
+usually take a pride.  An habitual and soldier-like neatness, and a love
+of order and symmetry, stood with him in the stead of elaborate
+attention to equipage and dress.
+
+Maltravers had not thought twice in his life whether he was handsome or
+not; and, like most men who have a knowledge of the gentler sex, he knew
+that beauty had little to do with engaging the love of women.  The air,
+the manner, the tone, the conversation, the something that interests,
+and the something to be proud of--these are the attributes of the man
+made to be loved.  And the Beauty-man is, nine times out of ten, little
+more than the oracle of his aunts, and the "/Sich/ a love!" of the
+housemaids!
+
+To return from this digression, Maltravers was glad that he could talk
+in his own language to Madame de Ventadour; and the conversation between
+them generally began in French, and glided away into English.  Madame de
+Ventadour was eloquent, and so was Maltravers; yet a more complete
+contrast in their mental views and conversational peculiarities can
+scarcely be conceived.  Madame de Ventadour viewed everything as a woman
+of the world: she was brilliant, thoughtful, and not without delicacy
+and tenderness of sentiment; still all was cast in a worldly mould.  She
+had been formed by the influences of society, and her mind betrayed its
+education.  At once witty and melancholy (no uncommon union), she was a
+disciple of the sad but caustic philosophy produced by /satiety/.  In
+the life she led, neither her heart nor her head was engaged; the
+faculties of both were irritated, not satisfied or employed.  She felt
+somewhat too sensitively the hollowness of the great world, and had a
+low opinion of human nature.  In fact, she was a woman of the French
+memoirs--one of those charming and /spirituelles/ Aspasias of the
+boudoir, who interest us by their subtlety, tact, and grace, their
+exquisite tone of refinement, and are redeemed from the superficial and
+frivolous, partly by a consummate knowledge of the social system in
+which they move, and partly by a half-concealed and touching discontent
+of the trifles on which their talents and affections are wasted.  These
+are the women who, after a youth of false pleasure, often end by an old
+age of false devotion.  They are a class peculiar to those ranks and
+countries in which shines and saddens that gay and unhappy thing--/a
+woman without a home/!
+
+Now this was a specimen of life--this Valerie de Ventadour--that
+Maltravers had never yet contemplated, and Maltravers was perhaps
+equally new to the Frenchwoman.  They were delighted with each other's
+society, although it so happened that they never agreed.
+
+Madame de Ventadour rode on horseback, and Maltravers was one of her
+usual companions.  And oh, the beautiful landscapes through which their
+daily excursions lay!
+
+Maltravers was an admirable scholar.  The stores of the immortal dead
+were as familiar to him as his own language.  The poetry, the
+philosophy, the manner of thought and habits of life--of the graceful
+Greek and the luxurious Roman--were a part of knowledge that constituted
+a common and household portion of his own associations and peculiarities
+of thought.  He had saturated his intellect with the Pactolus of
+old--and the grains of gold came down from the classic Tmolus with every
+tide.  This knowledge of the dead, often so useless, has an
+inexpressible charm when it is applied to the places where the dead
+lived.  We care nothing about the ancients on Highgate Hill--but at
+Baiae, Pompeii, by the Virgilian Hades, the ancients are society with
+which we thirst to be familiar.  To the animated and curious Frenchwoman
+what a cicerone was Ernest Maltravers!  How eagerly she listened to
+accounts of a life more elegant than that of Paris!--of a civilisation
+which the world never can know again!  So much the better;--for it was
+rotten at the core, though most brilliant in the complexion.  Those cold
+names and unsubstantial shadows which Madame de Ventadour had been
+accustomed to yawn over in skeleton histories, took from the eloquence
+of Maltravers the breath of life--they glowed and moved--they feasted
+and made love--were wise and foolish, merry and sad, like living things.
+On the other hand, Maltravers learned a thousand new secrets of the
+existing and actual world from the lips of the accomplished and
+observant Valerie.  What a new step in the philosophy of life does a
+young man of genius make, when he first compares his theories and
+experience with the intellect of a clever woman of the world!  Perhaps
+it does not elevate him, but how it enlightens and refines!--what
+numberless minute yet important mysteries in human character and
+practical wisdom does he drink unconsciously from the sparkling
+/persiflage/ of such a companion!  Our education is hardly ever complete
+without it.
+
+"And so you think these stately Romans were not, after all, so
+dissimilar to ourselves?" said Valerie, one day, as they looked over the
+same earth and ocean along which had roved the eyes of the voluptuous
+but august Lucullus.
+
+"In the last days of their Republic, a /coup-d'oeil of their social date
+might convey to us a general notion of our own.  Their system, like
+ours--a vast aristocracy heaved and agitated, but kept ambitious and
+intellectual, by the great democratic ocean which roared below and
+around it.  An immense distinction between rich and poor--a nobility
+sumptuous, wealthy, cultivated, yet scarcely elegant or refined; a
+people with mighty aspirations for more perfect liberty, but always
+liable, in a crisis, to be influenced and subdued by a deep-rooted
+veneration for the very aristocracy against which they struggled;--a
+ready opening through all the walls of custom and privilege, for every
+description of talent and ambition; but so strong and universal a
+respect for wealth, that the finest spirit grew avaricious, griping, and
+corrupt, almost unconsciously; and the man who rose from the people did
+not scruple to enrich himself out of the abuses he affected to lament;
+and the man who would have died for his country could not help thrusting
+his hands into her pockets.  Cassius, the stubborn and thoughtful
+patriot, with his heart of iron, had, you remember, an itching palm.
+Yet, what a blow to all the hopes and dreams of a world was the
+overthrow of the free party after the death of Caesar!  What generations
+of freemen fell at Philippi!  In England, perhaps, we may have
+ultimately the same struggle; in France, too (perhaps a larger stage,
+with far more inflammable actors), we already perceive the same war of
+elements which shook Rome to her centre, which finally replaced the
+generous Julius with the hypocritical Augustus, which destroyed the
+colossal patricians to make way for the glittering dwarfs of a court,
+and cheated the people out of the substance with the shadow of liberty.
+How it may end in the modern world, who shall say?  But while a nation
+has already a fair degree of constitutional freedom, I believe no
+struggle so perilous and awful as that between the aristocratic and the
+democratic principle.  A people against a despot--/that/ contest
+requires no prophet; but the change from an aristocratic to a democratic
+commonwealth is indeed the wide, unbounded prospect upon which rest
+shadows, clouds, and darkness.  If it fail--for centuries is the
+dial-hand of Time put back; if it succeed--"
+
+Maltravers paused.
+
+"And if it succeed?" said Valerie.
+
+"Why, then, man will have colonised Utopia!" replied Maltravers.
+
+"But at least, in modern Europe," he continued, "there will be fair room
+for the experiment.  For we have not that curse of slavery which, more
+than all else, vitiated every system of the ancients, and kept the rich
+and the poor alternately at war; and we have a press, which is not only
+the safety-valve of the passions of every party, but the great note-book
+of the experiments of every hour--the homely, the invaluable ledger of
+losses and of gains.  No; the people who keep that tablet well, never
+can be bankrupt.  And the society of those old Romans; their daily
+passions--occupations--humours!--why, the satire of Horace is the glass
+of our own follies!  We may fancy his easy pages written in the Chaussee
+d'Antin, or Mayfair; but there was one thing that will ever keep the
+ancient world dissimilar from the modern."
+
+"And what is that?"
+
+"The ancients knew not that delicacy in the affections which
+characterises the descendants of the Goths," said Maltravers, and his
+voice slightly trembled; "they gave up to the monopoly of the senses
+what ought to have had an equal share in the reason and the imagination.
+Their love was a beautiful and wanton butterfly; but not the butterfly
+which is the emblem of the soul."
+
+Valerie sighed.  She looked timidly into the face of the young
+philosopher, but his eyes were averted.
+
+"Perhaps," she said, after a short pause, "we pass our lives more
+happily without love than with it.  And in our modern social system"
+(she continued, thoughtfully, and with profound truth, though it is
+scarcely the conclusion to which a woman often arrives) "I think we have
+pampered Love to too great a preponderance over the other excitements of
+life.  As children, we are taught to dream of it; in youth, our books,
+our conversation, our plays, are filled with it.  We are trained to
+consider it the essential of life; and yet, the moment we come to actual
+experience, the moment we indulge this inculcated and stimulated
+craving, nine times out of ten we find ourselves wretched and undone.
+Ah, believe me, Mr. Maltravers, this is not a world in which we should
+preach up too far the philosophy of Love!"
+
+"And does Madame de Ventadour speak from experience?" asked Maltravers,
+gazing earnestly upon the changing countenance of his companion.
+
+"No; and I trust that I never may!" said Valerie, with great energy.
+
+Ernest's lip curled slightly, for his pride was touched.
+
+"I could give up many dreams of the future," said he, "to hear Madame de
+Ventadour revoke that sentiment."
+
+"We have outridden our companions, Mr. Maltravers," said Valerie,
+coldly, and she reined in her horse.  "Ah, Mr. Ferrers," she continued,
+as Lumley and the handsome German baron now joined her, "you are too
+gallant; I see you imply a delicate compliment to my horsemanship, when
+you wish me to believe you cannot keep up with me: Mr. Maltravers is not
+so polite."
+
+"Nay," returned Ferrers, who rarely threw away a compliment without a
+satisfactory return, "Nay, you and Maltravers appeared lost among the
+old Romans; and our friend the baron took that opportunity to tell me of
+all the ladies who adored him."
+
+"Ah, Monsieur Ferrare, /que vous etes malin/!" said Schomberg, looking
+very much confused.
+
+"/Malin/! no; I spoke from no envy: /I/ never was adored, thank Heaven!
+What a bore it must be!"
+
+"I congratulate you on the sympathy between yourself and Ferrers,"
+whispered Maltravers to Valerie.
+
+Valerie laughed; but during the rest of the excursion she remained
+thoughtful and absent, and for some days their rides were discontinued.
+Madame de Ventadour was not well.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+  "O Love, forsake me not;
+   Mine were a lone dark lot
+   Bereft of thee."
+     HEMANS, /Genius singing to Love/.
+
+I FEAR that as yet Ernest Maltravers had gained little from Experience,
+except a few current coins of worldly wisdom (and not very valuable
+those!) while he has lost much of that nobler wealth with which youthful
+enthusiasm sets out on the journey of life.  Experience is an open
+giver, but a stealthy thief.  There is, however, this to be said in her
+favour, that we retain her gifts; and if ever we demand restitution in
+earnest, 'tis ten to one but what we recover her thefts.  Maltravers had
+lived in lands where public opinion is neither strong in its influence,
+nor rigid in its canons; and that does not make a man better.  Moreover,
+thrown headlong amidst the temptations that make the first ordeal of
+youth, with ardent passions and intellectual superiority, he had been
+led by the one into many errors, from the consequences of which the
+other had delivered him; the necessity of roughing it through the
+world--of resisting fraud to-day, and violence to-morrow,--had hardened
+over the surface of his heart, though at bottom the springs were still
+fresh and living.  He had lost much of his chivalrous veneration for
+women, for he had seen them less often deceived than deceiving.  Again,
+too, the last few years had been spent without any high aims or fixed
+pursuits.  Maltravers had been living on the capital of his faculties
+and affections in a wasteful, speculating spirit.  It is a bad thing for
+a clever and ardent man not to have from the onset some paramount object
+of life.
+
+All this considered, we can scarcely wonder that Maltravers should have
+fallen into an involuntary system of pursuing his own amusements and
+pursuits, without much forethought of the harm or the good they were to
+do to others or himself.  The moment we lose forethought, we lose sight
+of duty; and though it seems like a paradox, we can seldom be careless
+without being selfish.
+
+In seeking the society of Madame de Ventadour, Maltravers obeyed but the
+mechanical impulse that leads the idler towards the companionship which
+most pleases his leisure.  He was interested and excited; and Valerie's
+manners, which to-day flattered, and to-morrow piqued him, enlisted his
+vanity and pride on the side of his fancy.  But although Monsieur de
+Ventadour, a frivolous and profligate Frenchman, seemed utterly
+indifferent as to what his wife chose to do--and in the society in which
+Valerie lived, almost every lady had her cavalier,--yet Maltravers would
+have started with incredulity or dismay had any one accused him of a
+systematic design on her affections.  But he was living with the world,
+and the world affected him as it almost always does every one else.
+Still he had, at times, in his heart, the feeling that he was not
+fulfilling his proper destiny and duties; and when he stole from the
+brilliant resorts of an unworthy and heartless pleasure, he was ever and
+anon haunted by his old familiar aspirations for the Beautiful, the
+Virtuous, and the Great.  However, hell is paved with good intentions;
+and so, in the meanwhile, Ernest Maltravers surrendered himself to the
+delicious presence of Valerie de Ventadour.
+
+One evening, Maltravers, Ferrers, the French minister, a pretty Italian,
+and the Princess di ------, made the whole party collected at Madame de
+Ventadour's.  The conversation fell upon one of the tales of scandal
+relative to English persons, so common on the Continent.
+
+"Is it true, Monsieur," said the French minister, gravely, to Lumley,
+"that your countrymen are much more immoral than other people?  It is
+very strange, but in every town I enter, there is always some story in
+which /les Anglais/ are the heroes.  I hear nothing of French
+scandal--nothing of Italian--/toujours les Anglais/."
+
+"Because we are shocked at these things, and make a noise about them,
+while you take them quietly.  Vice is our episode--your epic."
+
+"I suppose it is so," said the Frenchman, with affected seriousness.
+"If we cheat at play, or flirt with a fair lady, we do it with decorum,
+and our neighbours think it no business of theirs.  But you treat every
+frailty you find in your countrymen as a public concern, to be discussed
+and talked over, and exclaimed against, and told to all the world."
+
+"I like the system of scandal," said Madame de Ventadour, abruptly; "say
+what you will, the policy of fear keeps many of us virtuous.  Sin might
+not be odious, if we did not tremble at the consequence even of
+appearances."
+
+"Hein, hein," grunted Monsieur de Ventadour, shuffling into the room.
+"How are you?--how are you?  Charmed to see you.  Dull night--I suspect
+we shall have rain.  Hein, hein.  Aha, Monsieur Ferrers, /comment ca
+va-t-il/?  Will you give me my revenge at /ecarte/?  I have my
+suspicions that I am in luck to-night.  Hein, hein."
+
+"/Ecarte/!--well, with pleasure," said Ferrers.
+
+Ferrers played well.
+
+The conversation ended in a moment.  The little party gathered round the
+table--all, except Valerie and Maltravers.  The chairs that were vacated
+left a kind of breach between them; but still they were next to each
+other, and they felt embarrassed, for they felt alone.
+
+"Do you never play?" asked Madame de Ventadour, after a pause.
+
+"I /have/ played," said Maltravers, "and I know the temptation.  I dare
+not play now.  I love the excitement, but I have been humbled at the
+debasement: it is a moral drunkenness that is worse than the physical."
+
+"You speak warmly."
+
+"Because I feel keenly.  I once won of a man I respected, who was poor.
+His agony was a dreadful lesson to me.  I went home, and was terrified
+to think I had felt so much pleasure in the pain of another.  I have
+never played since that night."
+
+"So young and so resolute!" said Valerie, with admiration in her voice
+and eyes; "you are a strange person.  Others would have been cured by
+losing, you were cured by winning.  It is a fine thing to have principle
+at your age, Mr. Maltravers."
+
+"I fear it was rather pride than principle," said Maltravers.  "Error is
+sometimes sweet; but there is no anguish like an error of which we feel
+ashamed.  I cannot submit to blush for myself."
+
+"Ah!" muttered Valerie; "this is the echo of my own heart!"  She rose
+and went to the window.  Maltravers paused a moment, and followed her.
+Perhaps he half thought there was an invitation in the movement.
+
+There lay before them the still street, with its feeble and unfrequent
+lights; beyond, a few stars, struggling through an atmosphere unusually
+clouded, brought the murmuring ocean partially into sight.  Valerie
+leaned against the wall, and the draperies of the window veiled her from
+all the guests, save Maltravers; and between her and himself was a large
+marble vase filled with flowers; and by that uncertain light Valerie's
+brilliant cheek looked pale, and soft, and thoughtful.  Maltravers never
+before felt so much in love with the beautiful Frenchwoman.
+
+"Ah, madam!" said he, softly; "there is one error, if it be so, that
+never can cost me shame."
+
+"Indeed!" said Valerie with an unaffected start, for she was not aware
+he was so near her.  As she spoke she began plucking (it is a common
+woman's trick) the flowers from the vase between her and Ernest.  That
+small, delicate, almost transparent hand!--Maltravers gazed upon the
+hand, then on the countenance, then on the hand again.  The scene swam
+before him, and, involuntarily and as by an irresistible impulse, the
+next moment that hand was in his own.
+
+"Pardon me--pardon me," said he, falteringly; "but that error is in the
+feelings that I know for you."
+
+Valerie lifted on him her large and radiant eyes, and made no answer.
+
+Maltravers went on.  "Chide me, scorn me, hate me if you will.  Valerie,
+I love you."
+
+Valerie drew away her hand, and still remained silent.
+
+"Speak to me," said Ernest, leaning forward; "one word, I implore
+you--speak to me!"
+
+He paused,--still no reply; he listened breathlessly--he heard her sob.
+Yes; that proud, that wise, that lofty woman of the world, in that
+moment, was as weak as the simplest girl that ever listened to a lover.
+But how different the feelings that made her weak!--what soft and what
+stern emotions were blent together!
+
+"Mr. Maltravers," she said, recovering her voice, though it sounded
+hollow, yet almost unnaturally firm and clear"--the die is cast, and I
+have lost for ever the friend for whose happiness I cannot live, but for
+whose welfare I would have died; I should have foreseen this, but I was
+blind.  No more--no more; see me to-morrow, and leave me now!"
+
+"But, Valerie--"
+
+"Ernest Maltravers," said she, laying her hand lightly on his own;
+"/there is no anguish, like an error of which we feel ashamed/!"
+
+Before he could reply to this citation from his own aphorism, Valerie
+had glided away; and was already seated at the card-table, by the side
+of the Italian princess.
+
+Maltravers also joined the group.  He fixed his eyes on Madame de
+Ventadour, but her face was calm--not a trace of emotion was
+discernible.  Her voice, her smile, her charming and courtly manner, all
+were as when he first beheld her.
+
+"These women--what hypocrites they are!" muttered Maltravers to himself;
+and his lip writhed into a sneer, which had of late often forced away
+the serene and gracious expression of his earlier years, ere he knew
+what it was to despise.  But Maltravers mistook the woman he dared to
+scorn.
+
+He soon withdrew from the palazzo, and sought his hotel.  There, while
+yet musing in his dressing-room, he was joined by Ferrers.  The time had
+passed when Ferrers had exercised an influence over Maltravers; the boy
+had grown up to be the equal of the man, in the exercise of that
+two-edged sword--the reason.  And Maltravers now felt, unalloyed, the
+calm consciousness of his superior genius.  He could not confide to
+Ferrers what had passed between him and Valerie.  Lumley was too /hard/
+for a confidant in matters where the heart was at all concerned.  In
+fact, in high spirits, and in the midst of frivolous adventures, Ferrers
+was charming.  But in sadness, or in the moments of deep feeling,
+Ferrers was one whom you would wish out of the way.
+
+"You are sullen to-eight, /mon cher/," said Lumley, yawning; "I suppose
+you want to go to bed--some persons are so ill-bred, so selfish, they
+never think of their friends.  Nobody asks me what I won at /ecarte/.
+Don't be late to-morrow--I hate breakfasting alone, and I am never later
+than a quarter before nine--I hate egotistical, ill-mannered people.
+Good night."
+
+With this, Ferrers sought his own room; there, as he slowly undressed,
+he thus soliloquised: "I think I have put this man to all the use I can
+make of him.  We don't pull well together any longer; perhaps I myself
+am a little tired of this sort of life.  That is not right.  I shall
+grow ambitious by and by; but I think it a bad calculation not to make
+the most of youth.  At four or five-and-thirty it will be time enough to
+consider what one ought to be at fifty."
+
+
+
+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.  I know well that delicious, dreaming, holiday-life of
+Italy, so sweet to men of learning and imagination--so sweet, too, to
+youth--so sweet to pleasure!  But, Ernest, do you not feel already how
+it enervates?--how the luxurious /far niente/ unfits us for grave
+exertion?  Men may become too refined and too fastidious for useful
+purposes; and nowhere can they become so more rapidly than in Italy.  My
+dear Ernest, I know you well; you are not made to sink down into a
+virtuoso, with a cabinet full of cameos and a head full of pictures;
+still less are you made to be an indolent /cicisbeo/ to some fair
+Italian, with one passion and two ideas: and yet I have known men as
+clever as you, whom that bewitching Italy has sunk into one or other of
+these insignificant beings.  Don't run away with the notion that you
+have plenty of time before you.  You have no such thing.  At your age,
+and with your fortune (I wish you were not so rich), the holiday of one
+year becomes the custom of the next.  In England, to be a useful or a
+distinguished man, you must labour.  Now, labour itself is sweet, if we
+take to it early.  We are a hard race, but we are a manly one; and our
+stage is the most exciting in Europe for an able and an honest ambition.
+Perhaps you will tell me you are not ambitious now; very possibly--but
+ambitious you will be; and, believe me, there is no unhappier wretch
+than a man who is ambitious but disappointed,--who has the desire for
+fame, but has lost the power to achieve it--who longs for the goal, but
+will not, and cannot, put away his slippers to walk to it.  What I most
+fear for you is one of these two evils--an early marriage or a fatal
+/liaison/ with some married woman.  The first evil is certainly the
+least, but for you it would still be a great one.  With your sensitive
+romance, with your morbid cravings for the ideal, domestic happiness
+would soon grow trite and dull.  You would demand new excitement, and
+become a restless and disgusted man.  It is necessary for you to get rid
+of all the false fever of life, before you settle down to everlasting
+ties.  You do not yet know your own mind; you would choose your partner
+from some visionary caprice, or momentary impulse, and not from the deep
+and accurate knowledge of those qualities which would most harmonize
+with your own character.  People, to live happily with each other, must
+/fit in/, as it were--the proud be mated with the meek, the irritable
+with the gentle, and so forth.  No, my dear Maltravers, do not think of
+marriage yet a while; and if there is any danger of it, come over to me
+immediately.  But if I warn you against a lawful tie, how much more
+against an illicit one?  You are precisely at the age, and of the
+disposition, which render the temptation so strong and so deadly.  With
+you it might not be the sin of an hour, but the bondage of a life.  I
+know your chivalric honour--your tender heart; I know how faithful you
+would be to one who had sacrificed for you.  But that fidelity,
+Maltravers, to what a life of wasted talent and energies would it not
+compel you!  Putting aside for the moment (for that needs no comment)
+the question of the grand immorality--what so fatal to a bold and proud
+temper, as to be at war with society at the first entrance into life?
+What so withering to manly aims and purposes, as the giving into the
+keeping of a woman, who has interest in your love, and interest against
+your career which might part you at once from her side--the control of
+your future destinies?  I could say more, but I trust what I have said
+is superfluous; if so, pray assure me of it.  Depend upon this, Ernest
+Maltravers, that if you do not fulfil what nature intended for
+your fate, you will be a morbid misanthrope, or an indolent
+voluptuary--wrenched and listless in manhood, repining and joyless in
+old age.  But if you do fulfil your fate, you must enter soon into your
+apprenticeship.  Let me see you labour and aspire--no matter what
+in--what to.  Work, work--that is all I ask of you!
+
+"I wish you would see your old country-house; it has a venerable and
+picturesque look, and during your minority they have let the ivy cover
+three sides of it.  Montaigne might have lived there.
+
+     "Adieu, dearest Ernest,
+          "Your anxious and affectionate guardian,
+               "FREDERICK CLEVELAND.
+
+"P. S.--I am writing a book--it shall last me ten years--it occupies me,
+but does not fatigue.  Write a book yourself."
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+Maltravers had just finished this letter when Ferrers entered
+impatiently.  "Will you ride out?" said he.  "I have sent the breakfast
+away; I saw that breakfast was a vain hope to-day--indeed, my appetite
+is gone."
+
+"Pshaw!" said Maltravers.
+
+"Pshaw!  Humph! for my part I like well-bred people."
+
+"I have had a letter from Cleveland."
+
+"And what the deuce has that got to do with the chocolate?"
+
+"Oh, Lumley, you are insufferable; you think of nothing but yourself,
+and self with you means nothing that is not animal."
+
+"Why, yes; I believe I have some sense," replied Ferrers, complacently.
+"I know the philosophy of life.  All unfledged bipeds are animals, I
+suppose.  If Providence had made me graminivorous, I should have eaten
+grass; if ruminating, I should have chewed the cud; but as it has made
+me a carnivorous, culinary, and cachinnatory animal, I eat a cutlet,
+scold about the sauce, and laugh at you; and this is what you call being
+selfish!"
+
+It was late at noon when Maltravers found himself at the palazzo of
+Madame de Ventadour.  He was surprised, but agreeably so, that he was
+admitted, for the first time, into that private sanctum which bears the
+hackneyed title of boudoir.  But there was little enough of the fine
+lady's boudoir in the simple morning-room of Madame de Ventadour.  It
+was a lofty apartment, stored with books, and furnished, not without
+claim to grace, but with very small attention to luxury.
+
+Valerie was not there, and Maltravers, left alone, after a hasty glance
+around the chamber, leaned abstractedly against the wall, and forgot,
+alas! all the admonitions of Cleveland.  In a few moments the door
+opened, and Valerie entered.  She was unusually pale, and Maltravers
+thought her eyelids betrayed the traces of tears.  He was touched, and
+his heart smote him.
+
+"I have kept you waiting, I fear," said Valerie, motioning him to a seat
+at a little distance from that on which she placed herself; "but you
+will forgive me," she added, with a slight smile.  Then, observing he
+was about to speak, she went on rapidly; "Hear me, Mr. Maltravers--
+before you speak, hear me!  You uttered words last night that ought
+never to have been addressed to me.  You professed to--love me."
+
+"Professed!"
+
+"Answer me," said Valerie, with abrupt energy, "not as man to woman, but
+as one human creature to another.  From the bottom of your heart, from
+the core of your conscience, I call on you to speak the honest and the
+simple truth.  Do you love me as your heart, your genius, must be
+capable of loving?"
+
+"I love you truly--passionately!" said Maltravers, surprised and
+confused, but still with enthusiasm in his musical voice and earnest
+eyes.  Valerie gazed upon him as if she sought to penetrate into his
+soul.  Maltravers went on.  "Yes, Valerie, when we first met, you
+aroused a long dormant and delicious sentiment.  But, since then, what
+deep emotions has that sentiment called forth?  Your graceful
+intellect--your lovely thoughts, wise yet womanly--have completed the
+conquest your face and voice began.  Valerie, I love you.  And you--you,
+Valerie--ah!  I do not deceive myself--you also--"
+
+"Love!" interrupted Valerie, deeply blushing, but in a calm voice.
+"Ernest Maltravers, I do not deny it; honestly and frankly I confess the
+fault.  I have examined my heart during the whole of the last sleepless
+night, and I confess that I love you.  Now, then, understand me--we meet
+no more."
+
+"What!" said Maltravers, falling involuntarily at her feet, and seeking
+to detain her hand, which he seized.  "What! now, when you have given
+life a new charm, will you as suddenly blast it?  No, Valerie; no, I
+will not listen to you."
+
+Madame de Ventadour rose and said, with a cold dignity: "Hear me calmly,
+or I quit the room; and all I would now say rests for ever unspoken."
+
+Maltravers rose also, folded his arms haughtily, bit his lips, and stood
+erect, and confronting Valerie rather in the attitude of an accuser than
+a suppliant.
+
+"Madame," said he, gravely, "I will offend no more; I will trust to your
+manner, since I may not believe your words."
+
+"You are cruel," said Valerie, smiling mournfully; "but so are all men.
+Now let me make myself understood.  I was betrothed to Monsieur de
+Ventadour in my childhood. I did not see him till a month before we
+married.  I had no choice.  French girls have none.  We were wed.  I had
+formed no other attachment.  I was proud and vain: wealth, ambition, and
+social rank for a time satisfied my faculties and my heart.  At length I
+grew restless and unhappy.  I felt that something of life was wanting.
+Monsieur de Ventadour's sister was the first to recommend me to the
+common resource of our sex--at least, in France--a lover.  I was shocked
+and startled, for I belong to a family in which women are chaste and men
+brave.  I began, however, to look around me, and examine the truth of
+the philosophy of vice.  I found that no woman, who loved honestly and
+deeply an illicit lover was happy.  I found, too, the hideous profundity
+of Rochefoucauld's maxim that a woman--I speak of French women--may live
+without a lover; but, a lover once admitted, she never goes through life
+with only one.  She is deserted; she cannot bear the anguish and the
+solitude; she fills up the void with a second idol.  For her there is no
+longer a fall from virtue: it is a gliding and involuntary descent from
+sin to sin, till old age comes on and leaves her without love and
+without respect.  I reasoned calmly, for my passions did not blind my
+reason.  I could not love the egotists around me.  I resolved upon my
+career; and now, in temptation, I will adhere to it.  Virtue is my
+lover, my pride, my comfort, my life of life.  Do you love me, and will
+you rob me of this treasure?  I saw you, and for the first time I felt a
+vague and intoxicating interest in another; but I did not dream of
+danger.  As our acquaintance advanced I formed to myself a romantic and
+delightful vision.  I would be your firmest, your truest friend; your
+confidant, your adviser--perhaps, in some epochs of life, your
+inspiration and your guide.  I repeat that I foresaw no danger in your
+society.  I felt myself a nobler and a better being.  I felt more
+benevolent, more tolerant, more exalted.  I saw life through the medium
+of purifying admiration for a gifted nature, and a profound and generous
+soul.  I fancied we might be ever thus--each to each;--one strengthened,
+assured, supported by the other.  Nay, I even contemplated with pleasure
+the prospect of your future marriage with another--of loving your
+wife--of contributing with her to your happiness--my imagination made me
+forget that we are made of clay.  Suddenly all these visions were
+dispelled--the fairy palace was overthrown, and I found myself awake,
+and on the brink of the abyss--you loved me, and in the moment of that
+fatal confession, the mask dropped from my soul, and I felt that you had
+become too dear to me.  be silent still, I implore you.  I do not tell
+you of the emotions, of the struggles, through which I have passed the
+last few hours--the crisis of a life.  I tell you only of the resolution
+I formed.  I thought it due to you, nor unworthy to myself, to speak the
+truth.  Perhaps it might be more womanly to conceal it; but my heart has
+something masculine in its nature.  I have a great faith in your
+nobleness.  I believe you can sympathise with whatever is best in human
+weakness.  I tell you that I love you--I throw myself upon your
+generosity.  I beseech you to assist my own sense of right--to think
+well of me, to honour me--and to leave me!"
+
+During the last part of this strange and frank avowal, Valerie's voice
+had grown inexpressibly touching: her tenderness forced itself into her
+manner; and when she ceased, her lip quivered; her tears, repressed by a
+violent effort, trembled in her eyes--her hands were clasped--her
+attitude was that of humility, not pride.
+
+Maltravers stood perfectly spell-bound.  At length he advanced; dropped
+on one knee, kissed her hand with an aspect and air of reverential
+homage, and turned to quit the room in silence; for he would not dare to
+trust himself to speak.
+
+Valerie gazed at him in anxious alarm.  "O no, no!" she exclaimed, "do
+not leave me yet; this is our last meeting our last.  Tell me, at least,
+that you understand me; that you see, if I am no weak fool, I am also no
+heartless coquette; tell me that you see I am not as hard as I have
+seemed; that I have not knowingly trifled with your happiness; that even
+now I am not selfish.  Your love,--I ask it no more!  But your
+esteem--your good opinion.  Oh, speak--speak, I implore you!"
+
+"Valerie," said Maltravers, "if I was silent, it was because my heart
+was too full for words.  You have raised all womanhood in my eyes.  I
+did love you--I now venerate and adore.  Your noble frankness, so unlike
+the irresolute frailty, the miserable wiles of your sex, has touched a
+chord in my heart that has been mute for years.  I leave you to think
+better of human nature.  Oh!" he continued, "hasten to forget all of me
+that can cost you a pang.  Let me still, in absence and in sadness,
+think that I retain in your friendship--let it be friendship only--the
+inspiration, the guide of which you spoke; and if, hereafter, men shall
+name me with praise and honour, feel, Valerie, feel that I have
+comforted myself for the loss of your love by becoming worthy of your
+confidence--your esteem.  Oh, that we had met earlier, when no barrier
+was between us!"
+
+"Go, go, /now/," faltered Valerie, almost choked with her emotions; "may
+Heaven bless you!  Go!"
+
+Maltravers muttered a few inaudible and incoherent words, and quitted
+the apartment.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+  "The men of sense, those idols of the shallow, are very inferior
+   to the men of Passions.  It is the strong passions which, rescuing
+   us from sloth, can alone impart to us that continuous and earnest
+   attention necessary to great intellectual efforts."--HELVETIUS.
+
+WHEN Ferrers returned that day from his customary ride, he was surprised
+to see the lobbies and hall of the apartment which he occupied in common
+with Maltravers, littered with bags and /malles/, boxes and books, and
+Ernest's Swiss valet directing porters and waiters in a mosaic of
+French, English, and Italian.
+
+"Well!" said Lumley, "and what is all this?"
+
+"Il signore va partir, sare, ah! mon Dieu!--/tout/ of a sudden."
+
+"O-h! and where is he now!"
+
+"In his room, sare."
+
+Over the chaos strode Ferrers, and opening the door of his friend's
+dressing-room without ceremony, he saw Maltravers buried in a fauteuil,
+with his hands drooping on his knees, his head bent over his breast, and
+his whole attitude expressive of dejection and exhaustion.
+
+"What is the matter, my dear Ernest?  You have not killed a man in a
+duel?"
+
+"No."
+
+"What then?  Why are you going away, and whither?"
+
+"No matter; leave me in peace."
+
+"Friendly!" said Ferrers; "very friendly!  And what is to become of
+me--what companion am I to have in this cursed resort of antiquarians
+and lazzaroni?  You have no feeling, Mr. Maltravers!"
+
+"Will you come with me, then?" said Maltravers, in vain endeavouring to
+rouse himself.
+
+"But where are you going?"
+
+"Anywhere; to Paris--to London."
+
+"No; I have arranged my plans for the summer.  I am not so rich as some
+people.  I hate change: it is so expensive."
+
+"But, my dear fellow--"
+
+"Is this fair dealing with me?" continued Lumley, who, for once in his
+life, was really angry.  "If I were an old coat you had worn for five
+years you could not throw me off with more nonchalance."
+
+"Ferrers, forgive me.  My honour is concerned.  I must leave this place.
+I trust you will remain my guest here, though in the absence of your
+host.  You know that I have engaged the apartment for the next three
+months."
+
+"Humph!" said Ferrers, "as that is the case I may as well stay here.
+But why so secret?  Have you seduced Madame de Ventadour, or has her
+wise husband his suspicions?  Hein, hein!"
+
+Maltravers smothered his disgust at this coarseness; and, perhaps, there
+is no greater trial of temper than in a friend's gross remarks upon the
+connection of the heart.
+
+"Ferrers," said he, "if you care for me, breathe not a word
+disrespectful to Madame de Ventadour: she is an angel!"
+
+"But why leave Naples?"
+
+"Trouble me no more."
+
+"Good day, sir," said Ferrers, highly offended, and he stalked out of
+the chamber; nor did Ernest see him again before his departure.
+
+It was late that evening when Maltravers found himself alone in his
+carriage, pursuing by starlight the ancient and melancholy road to Mola
+di Gaeta.
+
+His solitude was a luxury to Maltravers; he felt an inexpressible sense
+of relief to be freed from Ferrers.  The hard sense, the unpliant,
+though humorous imperiousness, the animal sensuality of his companion
+would have been torture to him in his present state of mind.
+
+The next morning, when he rose, the orange blossoms of Mola di Gaeta
+were sweet beneath the window of the inn where he rested.  It was now
+the early spring, and the freshness of the odour, the breathing health
+of earth and air, it is impossible to describe.  Italy itself boasts few
+spots more lovely than that same Mola di Gaeta--nor does that halcyon
+sea wear, even at Naples or Sorrento, a more bland and enchanting smile.
+
+So, after a hasty and scarcely-tasted breakfast, Maltravers strolled
+through the orange groves, and gained the beach; and there, stretched at
+idle length by the murmuring waves, he resigned himself to thought, and
+endeavoured, for the first time since his parting with Valerie, to
+collect and examine the state of his mind and feelings.  Maltravers, to
+his own surprise, did not find himself so unhappy as he had expected.
+On the contrary, a soft and almost delicious sentiment, which he could
+not well define, floated over all his memories of the beautiful
+Frenchwoman.  Perhaps the secret was, that while his pride was not
+mortified, his conscience was not galled--perhaps, also, he had not
+loved Valerie so deeply as he had imagined.  The confession and the
+separation had happily come before her presence had grown--/the want of
+a life/.  As it was, he felt as if, by some holy and mystic sacrifice,
+he had been made reconciled to himself and mankind.  He woke to a juster
+and higher appreciation of human nature, and of woman's nature in
+especial.  He had found honesty and truth where he might least have
+expected it--in a woman of a court--in a woman surrounded by vicious and
+frivolous circles--in a woman who had nothing in the opinion of her
+friends, her country, her own husband, the social system in which she
+moved, to keep her from the concessions of frailty--in a woman of the
+world--a woman of Paris!--yes, it was his very disappointment that drove
+away the fogs and vapours that, arising from the marshes of the great
+world, had gradually settled round his soul.  Valerie de Ventadour had
+taught him not to despise her sex, not to judge by appearances, not to
+sicken of a low and a hypocritical world.  He looked in his heart for
+the love of Valerie, and he found there the love of virtue.  Thus, as he
+turned his eyes inward, did he gradually awaken to a sense of the true
+impressions engraved there.  And he felt the bitterest drop of the
+fountains was not sorrow for himself, but for her.  What pangs must that
+high spirit have endured ere it could have submitted to the avowal it
+had made!  Yet, even in this affliction he found at last a solace.  A
+mind so strong could support and heal the weakness of the heart.  He
+felt that Valerie de Ventadour was not a woman to pine away in the
+unresisted indulgence of morbid and unholy emotions.  He could not
+flatter himself that she would not seek to eradicate a love she
+repented; and he sighed with a natural selfishness, when he owned also
+that sooner or later she would succeed.  "But be it so," said he, half
+aloud--"I will prepare my heart to rejoice when I learn that she
+remembers me only as a friend.  Next to the bliss of her love is the
+pride of her esteem."
+
+Such was the sentiment with which his reveries closed--and with every
+league that bore him further from the south, the sentiment grew
+strengthened and confirmed.
+
+Ernest Maltravers felt there is in the affections themselves so much to
+purify and exalt, that even an erring love, conceived without a cold
+design, and (when its nature is fairly understood) wrestled against with
+a noble spirit, leaves the heart more tolerant and tender, and the mind
+more settled and enlarged.  The philosophy limited to the reason puts
+into motion the automata of the closet--but to those who have the world
+for a stage, and who find their hearts are the great actors, experience
+and wisdom must be wrought from the Philosophy of the Passions.
+
+
+
+BOOK III.
+
+  "Not to all men Apollo shows himself--
+   Who sees him--/he/ is great!"
+     CALLIM.  /Ex Hymno in Apollinon/.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+  "Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
+   Creep in our ears--soft stillness and the night
+   Become the touches of sweet harmony."
+     SHAKESPEARE.
+
+
+BOAT SONG ON THE LAKE OF COMO.
+
+I.
+
+The Beautiful Clime!--the Clime of Love!
+  Thou beautiful Italy!
+Like a mother's eyes, the earnest skies
+  Ever have smiles for thee!
+Not a flower that blows, not a beam that glows,
+  But what is in love with thee!
+
+II.
+
+The beautiful lake, the Larian lake!*
+  Soft lake like a silver sea,
+The Huntress Queen, with her nymphs of sheen,
+  Never had bath like thee.
+See, the Lady of night and her maids of light,
+  Even now are mid-deep in thee!
+
+* The ancient name of Como.
+
+III.
+
+Beautiful child of the lonely hills,
+  Ever blest may thy slumbers be!
+No mourner should tread by thy dreamy bed,
+  No life bring a care to thee--
+Nay, soft to thy bed, let the mourner tread--
+  And life be a dream like thee!
+
+
+Such, though uttered in the soft Italian tongue, and now imperfectly
+translated--such were the notes that floated one lovely evening in
+summer along the lake of Como.  The boat, from which came the song,
+drifted gently down the sparkling waters, towards the mossy banks of a
+lawn, whence on a little eminence gleamed the white walls of a villa,
+backed by vineyards.  On that lawn stood a young and handsome woman,
+leaning on the arm of her husband, and listening to the song.  But her
+delight was soon deepened into one of more personal interest, as the
+boatmen, nearing the banks, changed their measure, and she felt that the
+minstrelsy was in honour of herself.
+
+
+SERENADE TO THE SONGSTRESS.
+
+I.
+
+CHORUS.
+
+Softly--oh, soft! let us rest on the oar,
+And vex not a billow that sighs to the shore:--
+For sacred the spot where the starry waves meet
+With the beach, where the breath of the citron is sweet.
+There's a spell on the waves that now waft us along
+To the last of our Muses, the Spirit of Song.
+
+RECITATIVE.
+
+   The Eagle of old renown,
+   And the Lombard's iron crown
+And Milan's mighty name are ours no more;
+   But by this glassy water,
+   Harmonia's youngest daughter,
+Still from the lightning saves one laurel to our shore.
+
+II.
+
+CHORUS.
+
+They heard thee, Teresa, the Teuton, the Gaul,
+Who have raised the rude thrones of the North on our fall;
+They heard thee, and bow'd to the might of thy song;
+Like love went thy steps o'er the hearts of the strong;
+As the moon to the air, as the soul to the clay,
+To the void of this earth was the breath of thy lay.
+
+RECITATIVE.
+
+   Honour for aye to her
+   The bright interpreter
+Of Art's great mysteries to the enchanted throng;
+   While tyrants heard thy strains,
+   Sad Rome forgot her chains;
+The world the sword had lost was conquer'd back by song!
+
+
+"Thou repentest, my Teresa, that thou hast renounced thy dazzling career
+for a dull home, and a husband old enough to be thy father," said the
+husband to the wife, with a smile that spoke confidence in the answer.
+
+"Ah, no! even this homage would have no music to me if thou didst not
+hear it."
+
+She was a celebrated personage in Italy--the Signora Cesarini, now
+Madame de Montaigne.  Her earlier youth had been spent upon the stage,
+and her promise of vocal excellence had been most brilliant.  But after
+a brief though splendid career, she married a French gentleman of good
+birth and fortune, retired from the stage, and spent her life
+alternately in the gay saloons of Paris and upon the banks of the dreamy
+Como, on which her husband had purchased a small but beautiful villa.
+She still, however, exercised in private her fascinating art; to
+which--for she was a woman of singular accomplishment and talent--she
+added the gift of the improvvisatrice.  She had just returned for the
+summer to this lovely retreat, and a party of enthusiastic youths from
+Milan had sought the lake of Como to welcome her arrival with the
+suitable homage of song and music.  It is a charming relic, that custom
+of the brighter days of Italy; and I myself have listened, on the still
+waters of the same lake, to a similar greeting to a greater genius--the
+queenlike and unrivalled Pasta--the Semiramis of Song!  And while my
+boat paused, and I caught something of the enthusiasm of the serenaders,
+the boatman touched me, and, pointing to a part of the lake on which the
+setting sun shed its rosiest smile, he said, "There, Signor, was drowned
+one of your countrymen 'bellissimo uomo! che fu bello!'"--yes, there, in
+the pride of his promising youth, of his noble and almost godlike
+beauty, before the very windows--the very eyes--of his bride--the waves
+without a frown had swept over the idol of many hearts--the graceful and
+gallant Locke.* And above his grave was the voluptuous sky, and over it
+floated the triumphant music.  It was as the moral of the Roman
+poets--calling the living to a holiday over the oblivion of the dead.
+
+* Captain William Locke of the Life Guards (the only son of the
+accomplished Mr. Locke of Norbury Park), distinguished by a character
+the most amiable, and by a personal beauty that certainly equalled,
+perhaps surpassed, the highest masterpiece of Grecian sculpture.  He was
+returning in a boat from the town of Como to his villa on the banks of
+the lake, when the boat was upset by one of the mysterious
+under-currents to which the lake is dangerously subjected; and he was
+drowned in sight of his bride, who was watching his return from the
+terrace or balcony of their home.
+
+As the boat now touched the bank, Madame de Montaigne accosted the
+musicians, thanked them with a sweet and unaffected earnestness for the
+compliment so delicately offered, and invited them ashore.  The
+Milanese, who were six in number, accepted the invitation, and moored
+their boat to the jutting shore.  It was then that Monsieur de Montaigne
+pointed out to the notice of his wife a boat, that had lingered under
+the shadow of a bank, tenanted by a young man, who had seemed to listen
+with rapt attention to the music, and who had once joined in the chorus
+(as it was twice repeated), with a voice so exquisitely attuned, and so
+rich in its deep power, that it had awakened the admiration even of the
+serenaders themselves.
+
+"Does not that gentleman belong to your party?"  De Montaigne asked of
+the Milanese.
+
+"No, Signor, we know him not," was the answer; "his boat came unawares
+upon us as we were singing."
+
+While this question and answer were going on, the young man had quitted
+his station, and his oars cut the glassy surface of the lake, just
+before the place where De Montaigne stood.  With the courtesy of his
+country, the Frenchman lifted his hat; and, by his gesture, arrested the
+eye and oar of the solitary rower.  "Will you honour us," he said, "by
+joining our little party?"
+
+"It is a pleasure I covet too much to refuse," replied the boatman, with
+a slight foreign accent, and in another moment he was on shore.  He was
+one of remarkable appearance.  His long hair floated with a careless
+grace over a brow more calm and thoughtful than became his years; his
+manner was unusually quiet and self-collected, and not without a certain
+stateliness, rendered more striking by the height of his stature, a
+lordly contour of feature, and a serene but settled expression of
+melancholy in his eyes and smile.  "You will easily believe," said he,
+"that, cold as my countrymen are esteemed (for you must have discovered
+already that I am an Englishman), I could not but share in the
+enthusiasm of those about me, when loitering near the very ground sacred
+to the inspiration.  For the rest, I am residing for the present in
+yonder villa, opposite to your own; my name is Maltravers, and I am
+enchanted to think that I am no longer a personal stranger to one whose
+fame has already reached me."  Madame de Montaigne was flattered by
+something in the manner and tone of the Englishman, which said a great
+deal more than his words; and in a few minutes, beneath the influence of
+the happy continental ease, the whole party seemed as if they had known
+each other for years.  Wines, and fruits, and other simple and
+unpretending refreshments, were brought out and ranged on a rude table
+upon the grass, round which the guests seated themselves with their host
+and hostess, and the clear moon shone over them, and the lake slept
+below in silver.  It was a scene for a Boccaccio or a Claude.
+
+The conversation naturally fell upon music; it is almost the only thing
+which Italians in general can be said to know--and even that knowledge
+comes to them, like Dogberry's reading and writing, by nature--for of
+music, as an /art/, the unprofessional amateurs know but little.  As
+vain and arrogant of the last wreck of their national genius as the
+Romans of old were of the empire of all arts and arms, they look upon
+the harmonies of other lands as barbarous; nor can they appreciate or
+understand appreciation of the mighty German music, which is the proper
+minstrelsy of a nation of men--a music of philosophy, of heroism, of the
+intellect and the imagination; beside which, the strains of modern Italy
+are indeed effeminate, fantastic, and artificially feeble.  Rossini is
+the Canova of music, with much of the pretty, with nothing of the grand!
+
+The little party talked, however, of music, with an animation and gusto
+that charmed the melancholy Maltravers, who for weeks had known no
+companion save his own thoughts, and with whom, at all times, enthusiasm
+for any art found a ready sympathy.  He listened attentively, but said
+little; and from time to time, whenever the conversation flagged, amused
+himself by examining his companions.  The six Milanese had nothing
+remarkable in their countenances or in their talk; they possessed the
+characteristic energy and volubility of their countrymen, with something
+of the masculine dignity which distinguishes the Lombard from the
+Southern, and a little of the French polish, which the inhabitants of
+Milan seldom fail to contract.  Their rank was evidently that of the
+middle class; for Milan has a middle class, and one which promises great
+results hereafter.  But they were noways distinguished from a thousand
+other Milanese whom Maltravers had met with in the walks and cafes of
+their noble city.  The host was somewhat more interesting.  He was a
+tall, handsome man, of about eight-and-forty, with a high forehead, and
+features strongly impressed with the sober character of thought.  He had
+but little of the French vivacity in his manner; and without looking at
+his countenance, you would still have felt insensibly that he was the
+eldest of the party.  His wife was at least twenty years younger than
+himself, mirthful and playful as a child, but with a certain feminine
+and fascinating softness in her unrestrained gestures and sparkling
+gaiety, which seemed to subdue her natural joyousness into the form and
+method of conventional elegance.  Dark hair carelessly arranged, an open
+forehead, large black laughing eyes, a small straight nose, a complexion
+just relieved from the olive by an evanescent, yet perpetually recurring
+blush; a round dimpled cheek, an exquisitely-shaped mouth with small
+pearly teeth, and a light and delicate figure a little below the
+ordinary standard, completed the picture of Madame de Montaigne.
+
+"Well," said Signor Tirabaloschi, the most loquacious and sentimental of
+the guests, filling his glass, "these are hours to think of for the rest
+of life.  But we cannot hope the Signora will long remember what we
+never can forget.  Paris, says the French proverb, /est le paradis des
+femmes/: and in Paradise, I take it for granted, we recollect very
+little of what happened on earth."
+
+"Oh," said Madame de Montaigne, with a pretty musical laugh, "in Paris
+it is the rage to despise the frivolous life of cities, and to affect
+/des sentimens romanesques/.  This is precisely the scene which our fine
+ladies and fine writers would die to talk of and to describe.  Is it not
+so, /mon ami/?" and she turned affectionately to De Montaigne.
+
+"True," replied he; "but you are not worthy of such a scene--you laugh
+at sentiment and romance."
+
+"Only at French sentiment and the romance of the Chaussee d'Antin.  You
+English," she continued, shaking her head at Maltravers, "have spoiled
+and corrupted us; we are not content to imitate you, we must excel you;
+we out-horror horror, and rush from the extravagant into the frantic!"
+
+"The ferment of the new school is, perhaps, better than the stagnation
+of the old," said Maltravers.  "Yet even you," addressing himself to the
+Italians, "who first in Petrarch, in Tasso, and in Ariosto, set to
+Europe the example of the Sentimental and the Romantic; who built among
+the very ruins of the classic school, amidst its Corinthian columns and
+sweeping arches, the spires and battlements of the Gothic--even you are
+deserting your old models and guiding literature into newer and wilder
+paths.  'Tis the way of the world--eternal progress is eternal change."
+
+"Very possibly," said Signor Tirabaloschi, who understood nothing of
+what was said.  "Nay, it is extremely profound; on reflection, it is
+beautiful--superb! you English are so--so--in short, it is admirable.
+Ugo Foscolo is a great genius--so is Monti; and as for Rossini,--you
+know his last opera--/cosa stupenda/!"
+
+Madame de Montaigne glanced at Maltravers, clapped her little hands, and
+laughed outright.  Maltravers caught the contagion, and laughed also.
+But he hastened to repair the pedantic error he had committed of talking
+over the heads of the company.  He took up the guitar, which, among
+their musical instruments, the serenaders had brought, and after
+touching its chords for a few moments, said: "After all, Madame, in your
+society, and with this moonlit lake before us, we feel as if music were
+our best medium of conversation.  Let us prevail upon these gentlemen to
+delight us once more."
+
+"You forestall what I was going to ask," said the ex-singer; and
+Maltravers offered the guitar to Tirabaloschi, who was in fact dying to
+exhibit his powers again.  He took the instrument with a slight grimace
+of modesty, and then saying to Madame de Montaigne, "There is a song
+composed by a young friend of mine, which is much admired by the ladies;
+though to me it seems a little too sentimental," sang the following
+stanzas (as good singers are wont to do) with as much feeling as if he
+could understand them!
+
+
+NIGHT AND LOVE.
+
+When stars are in the quiet skies,
+   Then most I pine for thee;
+Bend on me, then, thy tender eyes!
+   As stars look on the sea!
+
+For thoughts, like waves that glide by night,
+   Are stillest where they shine;
+Mine earthly love lies hushed in light
+   Beneath the heaven of thine.
+
+There is an hour when angels keep
+   Familiar watch on men;
+When coarser souls are wrapt in sleep,--
+   Sweet spirit, meet me then.
+
+There is an hour when holy dreams
+   Through slumber fairest glide;
+And in that mystic hour it seems
+   Thou shouldst be by my side.
+
+The thoughts of thee too sacred are
+   For daylight's common beam;--
+I can but know thee as my star,
+   My angel, and my dream!
+
+
+And now, the example set, and the praises of the fair hostess exciting
+general emulation, the guitar circled from hand to hand, and each of the
+Italians performed his part; you might have fancied yourself at one of
+the old Greek feasts, with the lyre and the myrtle-branch going the
+round.
+
+But both the Italians and the Englishman felt the entertainment would be
+incomplete without hearing the celebrated vocalist and improvvisatrice
+who presided over the little banquet; and Madame de Montaigne, with a
+woman's tact, divined the general wish, and anticipated the request that
+was sure to be made.  She took the guitar from the last singer, and
+turning to Maltravers, said, "You have heard, of course, some of our
+more eminent improvvisatori, and therefore if I ask you for a subject it
+will only be to prove to you that the talent is not general amongst the
+Italians."
+
+"Ah," said Maltravers, "I have heard, indeed, some ugly old gentlemen
+with immense whiskers, and gestures of the most alarming ferocity, pour
+out their vehement impromptus; but I have never yet listened to a young
+and a handsome lady.  I shall only believe the inspiration when I hear
+it direct from the Muse."
+
+"Well, I will do my best to deserve your compliments--you must give me
+the theme."
+
+Maltravers paused a moment, and suggested the Influence of Praise on
+Genius.
+
+The improvvisatrice nodded assent, and after a short prelude broke forth
+into a wild and varied strain of verse, in a voice so exquisitely sweet,
+with a taste so accurate, and a feeling so deep that the poetry sounded
+to the enchanted listeners like the language that Armida might have
+uttered.  Yet the verses themselves, like all extemporaneous effusions,
+were of a nature both to pass from the memory and to defy transcription.
+
+When Madame de Montaigne's song ceased, no rapturous plaudits
+followed--the Italians were too affected by the science, Maltravers by
+the feeling, for the coarseness of ready praise;--and ere that delighted
+silence which made the first impulse was broken, a new comer, descending
+from the groves that clothed the ascent behind the house, was in the
+midst of the party.
+
+"Ah, my dear brother," cried Madame Montaigne, starting up, and banging
+fondly on the arm of the stranger, "why have you lingered so long in the
+wood?  You, so delicate!  And how are you?  How pale you seem!"
+
+"It is but the reflection of the moonlight, Teresa," said the intruder;
+"I feel well."  So saying, he scowled on the merry party, and turned as
+if to slink away.
+
+"No, no," whispered Teresa, "you must stay a moment and be presented to
+my guests: there is an Englishman here whom you will like--who will
+/interest/ you."
+
+With that she almost dragged him forward, and introduced him to her
+guests.  Signor Cesarini returned their salutations with a mixture of
+bashfulness and /hauteur/, half-awkward and half-graceful, and muttering
+some inaudible greeting, sank into a seat and appeared instantly lost in
+reverie.  Maltravers gazed upon him, and was pleased with his
+aspect--which, if not handsome, was strange and peculiar.  He was
+extremely slight and thin--his cheeks hollow and colourless, with a
+profusion of black silken ringlets that almost descended to his
+shoulders.  His eyes, deeply sunk into his head, were large and
+intensely brilliant; and a thin moustache, curling downwards, gave an
+additional austerity to his mouth, which was closed with gloomy and
+half-sarcastic firmness.  He was not dressed as people dress in general,
+but wore a frock of dark camlet, with a large shirt-collar turned down,
+and a narrow slip of black silk twisted rather than tied round his
+throat; his nether garments fitted tight to his limbs, and a pair of
+half-hessians completed his costume.  It was evident that the young man
+(and he was very young--perhaps about nineteen or twenty) indulged that
+coxcombry of the Picturesque which is the sign of a vainer mind than is
+the commoner coxcombry of the /Mode/.
+
+It is astonishing how frequently it happens, that the introduction of a
+single intruder upon a social party is sufficient to destroy all the
+familiar harmony that existed there before.  We see it even when the
+intruder is agreeable and communicative--but in the present instance, a
+ghost could scarcely have been a more unwelcoming or unwelcome visitor.
+The presence of this shy, speechless, supercilious-looking man threw a
+damp over the whole group.  The gay Tirabaloschi immediately discovered
+that it was time to depart--it had not struck any one before, but it
+certainly /was/ late.  The Italians began to bustle about, to collect
+their music, to make fine speeches and fine professions--to bow and to
+smile--to scramble into their boat, and to push towards the inn at Como,
+where they had engaged their quarters for the night.  As the boat glided
+away, and while two of them were employed at the oar, the remaining four
+took up their instruments and sang a parting glee.  It was quite
+midnight--the hush of all things around had grown more intense and
+profound--there was a wonderful might of silence in the shining air and
+amidst the shadows thrown by the near banks and the distant hills over
+the water.  So that as the music chiming in with the oars grew fainter
+and fainter, it is impossible to describe the thrilling and magical
+effect it produced.
+
+The party ashore did not speak; there was a moisture, a grateful one, in
+the bright eyes of Teresa, as she leant upon the manly form of De
+Montaigne, for whom her attachment was, perhaps, yet more deep and pure
+for the difference of their ages.  A girl who once loves a man, not
+indeed old, but much older than herself, loves him with such a /looking
+up/ and venerating love!  Maltravers stood a little apart from the
+couple, on the edge of the shelving bank, with folded arms and
+thoughtful countenance.  "How is it," said he, unconscious that he was
+speaking half aloud, "that the commonest beings of the world should be
+able to give us a pleasure so unworldly?  What a contrast between those
+musicians and this music.  At this distance their forms are dimly seen,
+one might almost fancy the creators of those sweet sounds to be of
+another mould from us.  Perhaps even thus the poetry of the Past rings
+on our ears--the deeper and the diviner, because removed from the clay
+which made the poets.  O Art, Art! how dost thou beautify and exalt us;
+what is nature without thee!"
+
+"You are a poet, Signor," said a soft clear voice beside the
+soliloquist; and Maltravers started to find that he had had unknowingly
+a listener in the young Cesarini.
+
+"No," said Maltravers; "I cull the flowers, I do not cultivate the
+soil."
+
+"And why not?" said Cesarini, with abrupt energy; "you are an
+Englishman--/you/ have a public--you have a country--you have a living
+stage, a breathing audience; we, Italians, have nothing but the dead."
+
+As he looked on the young man, Maltravers was surprised to see the
+sudden animation which glowed upon his pale features.
+
+"You asked me a question I would fain put to you," said the Englishman,
+after a pause.  "/You/, methinks, are a poet?"
+
+"I have fancied that I might be one.  But poetry with us is a bird in
+the wilderness--it sings from an impulse--the song dies without a
+listener.  Oh that I belonged to a /living/ country,--France, England,
+Germany, Arnerica,--and not to the corruption of a dead giantess--for
+such is now the land of the ancient lyre."
+
+"Let us meet again, and soon," said Maltravers, holding out his hand.
+
+Cesarini hesitated a moment, and then accepted and returned the
+proffered salutation.  Reserved as he was, something in Maltravers
+attracted him; and, indeed, there was that in Ernest which fascinated
+most of those unhappy eccentrics who do not move in the common orbit of
+the world.
+
+In a few moments more the Englishman had said farewell to the owner of
+the villa, and his light boat skimmed rapidly over the tide.
+
+"What do you think of the /Inglese/?" said Madame de Montaigne to her
+husband, as they turned towards the house.  (They said not a word about
+the Milanese.)
+
+"He has a noble bearing for one so young," said the Frenchman; "and
+seems to have seen the world, and both to have profited and to have
+suffered by it."
+
+"He will prove an acquisition to our society here," returned Teresa; "he
+interests me; and you, Castruccio?" turning to seek for her brother; but
+Cesarini had already, with his usual noiseless step, disappeared within
+the house.
+
+"Alas, my poor brother!" she said, "I cannot comprehend him.  What does
+he desire?"
+
+"Fame!" replied De Montaigne, calmly.  "It is a vain shadow; no wonder
+that he disquiets himself in vain."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+  "Alas! what boots it with incessant care
+   To strictly meditate the thankless Muse;
+   Were I not better done as others use,
+   To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,
+   Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair?"
+     MILTON'S /Lycidas/.
+
+THERE is nothing more salutary to active men than occasional intervals
+of repose,--when we look within, instead of without, and examine almost
+/insensibly/ (for I hold strict and conscious self-scrutiny a thing much
+rarer than we suspect)--what we have done--what we are capable of doing.
+It is settling, as it were, a debtor and creditor account with the past,
+before we plunge into new speculations.  Such an interval of repose did
+Maltravers now enjoy.  In utter solitude, so far as familiar
+companionship is concerned, he had for several weeks been making himself
+acquainted with his own character and mind.  He read and thought much,
+but without any exact or defined object.  I think it is Montaigne who
+says somewhere: "People talk about thinking--but for my part I never
+think, except when I sit down to write."  I believe this is not a very
+common case, for people who don't write think as well as people who do;
+but connected, severe, well-developed thought, in contradistinction to
+vague meditation, must be connected with some tangible plan or object;
+and therefore we must be either writing men or acting men, if we desire
+to test the logic, and unfold into symmetrical design the fused colours
+of our reasoning faculty.  Maltravers did not yet feel this, but he was
+sensible of some intellectual want.  His ideas, his memories, his dreams
+crowded thick and confused upon him; he wished to arrange them in order,
+and he could not. He was overpowered by the unorganised affluence of his
+own imagination and intellect.  He had often, even as a child, fancied
+that he was formed to do something in the world, but he had never
+steadily considered what it was to be, whether he was to become a man of
+books or a man of deeds.  He had written poetry when it poured
+irresistibly from the fount of emotion within, but looked at his
+effusions with a cold and neglectful eye when the enthusiasm had passed
+away.
+
+Maltravers was not much gnawed by the desire of fame--perhaps few men of
+real genius are, until artificially worked up to it.  There is in a
+sound and correct intellect, with all its gifts fairly balanced, a calm
+consciousness of power, a certainty that when its strength is fairly put
+out, it must be to realise the usual result of strength.  Men of
+second-rate faculties, on the contrary, are fretful and nervous,
+fidgeting after a celebrity which they do not estimate by their own
+talents, but by the talents of some one else.  They see a tower, but are
+occupied only with measuring its shadow, and think their own height
+(which they never calculate) is to cast as broad a one over the earth.
+It is the short man who is always throwing up his chin, and is as erect
+as a dart.  The tall man stoops, and the strong man is not always using
+the dumb-bells.
+
+Maltravers had not yet, then, the keen and sharp yearning for
+reputation; he had not, as yet, tasted its sweets and bitters--fatal
+draught, which /once/ tasted, begets too often an insatiable thirst!
+neither had he enemies and decriers whom he was desirous of abashing by
+merit.  And that is a very ordinary cause for exertion in proud minds.
+He was, it is true, generally reputed clever, and fools were afraid of
+him: but as he actively interfered with no man's pretensions, so no man
+thought it necessary to call him a blockhead.  At present, therefore, it
+was quietly and naturally that his mind was working its legitimate way
+to its destiny of exertion.  He began idly and carelessly to note down
+his thoughts and impressions; what was once put on the paper, begot new
+matter; his ideas became more lucid to himself; and the page grew a
+looking-glass, which presented the likeness of his own features.  He
+began by writing with rapidity, and without method.  He had no object
+but to please himself, and to find a vent for an overcharged spirit;
+and, like most writings of the young, the matter was egotistical.  We
+commence with the small nucleus of passion and experience, to widen the
+circle afterwards; and, perhaps, the most extensive and universal
+masters of life and character have begun by being egotists.  For there
+is in a man that has much in him a wonderfully acute and sensitive
+perception of his own existence.  An imaginative and susceptible person
+has, indeed, ten times as much life as a dull fellow, "an he be
+Hercules."  He multiplies himself in a thousand objects, associates each
+with his own identity, lives in each, and almost looks upon the world
+with its infinite objects as a part of his individual being.
+Afterwards, as he tames down, he withdraws his forces into the citadel,
+but he still has a knowledge of, and an interest in, the land they once
+covered.  He understands other people, for he has lived in other
+people--the dead and the living;--fancied himself now Brutus and now
+Caesar, and thought how /he/ should act in almost every imaginable
+circumstance of life.
+
+Thus, when he begins to paint human characters, essentially different
+from his own, his knowledge comes to him almost intuitively.  It is as
+if he were describing the mansions in which he himself has formerly
+lodged, though for a short time.  Hence in great writers of History--of
+Romance--of the Drama--the /gusto/ with which they paint their
+personages; their creations are flesh and blood, not shadows or
+machines.
+
+Maltravers was at first, then, an egotist, in the matter of his rude and
+desultory sketches--in the manner, as I said before, he was careless and
+negligent, as men will be who have not yet found that expression is an
+art.  Still those wild and valueless essays--those rapt and secret
+confessions of his own heart--were a delight to him.  He began to taste
+the transport, the intoxication of an author.  And, oh, what a luxury is
+there in that first love of the Muse! that process by which we give
+palpable form to the long-intangible visions which have flitted across
+us;--the beautiful ghost of the Ideal within us, which we invoke in the
+Gadara of our still closets, with the wand of the simple pen!
+
+It was early noon, the day after he had formed his acquaintance with the
+De Montaignes, that Maltravers sat in his favourite room;--the one he
+had selected for his study from the many chambers of his large and
+solitary habitation.  He sat in a recess by the open window, which
+looked on the lake; and books were scattered on his table, and
+Maltravers was jotting down his criticisms on what he read, mingled with
+his impressions on what he saw.  It is the pleasantest kind of
+composition--the note-book of a man who studies in retirement, who
+observes in society, who in all things can admire and feel.  He was yet
+engaged in this easy task, when Cesarini was announced, and the young
+brother of the fair Teresa entered his apartment.
+
+"I have availed myself soon of your invitation," said the Italian.
+
+"I acknowledge the compliment," replied Maltravers, pressing the hand
+shyly held out to him.
+
+"I see you have been writing--I thought you were attached to literature.
+I read it in your countenance, I heard it in your voice," said Cesarini,
+seating himself.
+
+"I have been idly beguiling a very idle leisure, it is true," said
+Maltravers.
+
+"But you do not write for yourself alone--you have an eye to the great
+tribunals--Time and the Public."
+
+"Not so, I assure you honestly," said Maltravers, smiling.  "If you look
+at the books on my table, you will see that they are the great
+masterpieces of ancient and modern lore--these are studies that
+discourage tyros--"
+
+"But inspire them."
+
+"I do not think so.  Models may form our taste as critics, but do not
+excite us to be authors.  I fancy that our own emotions, our own sense
+of our destiny, make the great lever of the inert matter we accumulate.
+'Look in thy heart and write,' said an old English writer,* who did not,
+however, practise what he preached.  And you, Signor--"
+
+* Sir Philip Sidney.
+
+"Am nothing, and would be something," said the young man, shortly and
+bitterly.
+
+"And how does that wish not realise its object?"
+
+"Merely because I am Italian," said Cesarini.  "With us there is no
+literary public--no vast reading class--we have dilettanti and literati,
+and students, and even authors; but these make only a coterie, not a
+public.  I have written, I have published; but no one listened to me.  I
+am an author without readers."
+
+"It is no uncommon case in England," said Maltravers.
+
+The Italian continued: "I thought to live in the mouths of men--to stir
+up thoughts long dumb--to awaken the strings of the old lyre!  In vain.
+Like the nightingale, I sing only to break my heart with a false and
+melancholy emulation of other notes."
+
+"There are epochs in all countries," said Maltravers, gently, "when
+peculiar veins of literature are out of vogue, and when no genius can
+bring them into public notice.  But you wisely said there were two
+tribunals--the Public and Time.  You have still the last to appeal to.
+Your great Italian historians wrote for the unborn--their works not even
+published till their death.  That indifference to living reputation has
+in it, to me, something of the sublime."
+
+"I cannot imitate them--and they were not poets," said Cesarini,
+sharply.  "To poets, praise is a necessary aliment; neglect is death."
+
+"My dear Signor Cesarini," said the Englishman, feelingly, "do not give
+way to these thoughts.  There ought to be in a healthful ambition the
+stubborn stuff of persevering longevity; it must live on, and hope for
+the day which comes slow or fast, to all whose labours deserve the
+goal."
+
+"But perhaps mine do not.  I sometimes fear so--it is a horrid thought."
+
+"You are very young yet," said Maltravers; "how few at your age ever
+sicken for fame!  That first step is, perhaps, the half way to the
+prize."
+
+I am not sure that Ernest thought exactly as he spoke; but it was the
+most delicate consolation to offer to a man whose abrupt frankness
+embarrassed and distressed him.  The young man shook his head
+despondingly.  Maltravers tried to change the subject--he rose and moved
+to the balcony, which overhung the lake--he talked of the weather--he
+dwelt on the exquisite scenery--he pointed to the minute and more latent
+beauties around, with the eye and taste of one who had looked at Nature
+in her details.  The poet grew more animated and cheerful; he became
+even eloquent; he quoted poetry and he talked it.  Maltravers was more
+and more interested in him.  He felt a curiosity to know if his talents
+equalled his aspirations: he hinted to Cesarini his wish to see his
+compositions--it was just what the young man desired.  Poor Cesarini!
+It was much to him to get a new listener, and he fondly imagined every
+honest listener must be a warm admirer.  But with the coyness of his
+caste, he affected reluctance and hesitation; he dallied with his own
+impatient yearnings.  And Maltravers, to smooth his way, proposed an
+excursion on the lake.
+
+"One of my men shall row," said he; "you shall recite to me, and I will
+be to you what the old housekeeper was to Moliere."
+
+Maltravers had deep good-nature where he was touched, though he had not
+a superfluity of what is called good-humour, which floats on the surface
+and smiles on all alike.  He had much of the milk of human kindness, but
+little of its oil.
+
+The poet assented, and they were soon upon the lake.  It was a sultry
+day, and it was noon; so the boat crept slowly along by the shadow of
+the shore, and Cesarini drew from his breast-pocket some manuscripts of
+small and beautiful writing.  Who does not know the pains a young poet
+takes to bestow a fair dress on his darling rhymes!
+
+Cesarini read well and feelingly.  Everything was in favour of the
+reader.  His own poetical countenance--his voice, his enthusiasm,
+half-suppressed--the pre-engaged interest of the auditor--the dreamy
+loveliness of the hour and scene--(for there is a great deal as to time
+in these things).  Maltravers listened intently.  It is very difficult
+to judge of the exact merit of poetry in another language even when we
+know that language well--so much is there in the untranslatable magic of
+expression, the little subtleties of style.  But Maltravers, fresh, as
+he himself had said, from the study of great and original writers, could
+not but feel that he was listening to feeble though melodious
+mediocrity.  It was the poetry of words, not things.  He thought it
+cruel, however, to be hypercritical, and he uttered all the commonplaces
+of eulogium that occurred to him.  The young man was enchanted: "And
+yet," said he with a sigh, "I have no Public.  In England they would
+appreciate me."  Alas! in England, at that moment, there were five
+hundred poets as young, as ardent, and yet more gifted, whose hearts
+beat with the same desire--whose nerves were broken by the same
+disappointments.
+
+Maltravers found that his young friend would not listen to any judgment
+not purely favourable.  The archbishop in /Gil Blas/ was not more touchy
+upon any criticism that was not panegyric.  Maltravers thought it a bad
+sign, but he recollected Gil Blas, and prudently refrained from bringing
+on himself the benevolent wish of "beaucoup de bonheur et un peu, plus
+de bon gout."  When Cesarini had finished his MS., he was anxious to
+conclude the excursion--he longed to be at home, and think over the
+admiration he had excited.  But he left his poems with Maltravers, and
+getting on shore by the remains of Pliny's villa, was soon out of sight.
+
+Maltravers that evening read the poems with attention. His first opinion
+was confirmed.  The young man wrote without knowledge.  He had never
+felt the passions he painted, never been in the situations he described.
+There was no originality in him, for there was no experience; it was
+exquisite mechanism, his verse,--nothing more.  It might well deceive
+him, for it could not but flatter his ear--and Tasso's silver march rang
+not more musically than did the chiming stanzas of Castruccio Cesarini.
+
+The perusal of this poetry, and his conversation with the poet, threw
+Maltravers into a fit of deep musing.  "This poor Cesarini may warn me
+against myself!" thought he.  "Better hew wood and draw water than
+attach ourselves devotedly to an art in which we have not the capacity
+to excel. . . . It is to throw away the healthful objects of life for a
+diseased dream,--worse than the Rosicrucians, it is to make a sacrifice
+of all human beauty for the smile of a sylphid that never visits us but
+in visions."  Maltravers looked over his own compositions, and thrust
+them into the fire.  He slept ill that night.  His pride was a little
+dejected.  He was like a beauty who has seen a caricature of herself.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+  "Still follow SENSE, of every art the Soul."
+     POPE: /Moral Essays/--Essay iv.
+
+ERNEST MALTRAVERS spent much of his time with the family of De
+Montaigne.  There is no period of life in which we are more accessible
+to the sentiment of friendship than in the intervals of moral exhaustion
+which succeed to the disappointments of the passions.  There is, then,
+something inviting in those gentler feelings which keep alive, but do
+not fever, the circulation of the affections.  Maltravers looked with
+the benevolence of a brother upon the brilliant, versatile, and restless
+Teresa.  She was the last person in the world he could have been in love
+with--for his nature, ardent, excitable, yet fastidious, required
+something of repose in the manners and temperament of the woman whom he
+could love, and Teresa scarcely knew what repose was.  Whether playing
+with her children (and she had two lovely ones--the eldest six years
+old), or teasing her calm and meditative husband, or pouring out
+extempore verses, or rattling over airs which she never finished, on the
+guitar or piano--or making excursions on the lake--or, in short, in
+whatever occupation she appeared as the Cynthia of the minute, she was
+always gay and mobile--never out of humour, never acknowledging a single
+care or cross in life--never susceptible of grief, save when her
+brother's delicate health or morbid temper saddened her atmosphere of
+sunshine.  Even then, the sanguine elasticity of her mind and
+constitution quickly recovered from the depression; and she persuaded
+herself that Castruccio would grow stronger every year, and ripen into a
+celebrated and happy man.  Castruccio himself lived what romantic
+poetasters call the "life of a poet."  He loved to see the sun rise over
+the distant Alps--or the midnight moon sleeping on the lake.  He spent
+half the day, and often half the night, in solitary rambles, weaving his
+airy rhymes, or indulging his gloomy reveries, and he thought loneliness
+made the element of a poet.  Alas! Dante, Alfieri, even Petrarch might
+have taught him, that a poet must have intimate knowledge of men as well
+as mountains, if he desire to become the CREATOR.  When Shelley, in one
+of his prefaces, boasts of being familiar with Alps and glaciers, and
+Heaven knows what, the critical artist cannot help wishing that he had
+been rather familiar with Fleet Street or the Strand.  Perhaps, then,
+that remarkable genius might have been more capable of realizing
+characters of flesh and blood, and have composed corporeal and
+consummate wholes, not confused and glittering fragments.
+
+Though Ernest was attached to Teresa and deeply interested in
+Castruccio, it was De Montaigne for whom he experienced the higher and
+graver sentiment of esteem. This Frenchman was one acquainted with a
+much larger world than that of the Coteries.  He had served in the army,
+had been employed with distinction in civil affairs, and was of that
+robust and healthful moral constitution which can bear with every
+variety of social life, and estimate calmly the balance of our moral
+fortunes.  Trial and experience had left him that true philosopher who
+is too wise to be an optimist, too just to be a misanthrope.  He enjoyed
+life with sober judgment, and pursued the path most suited to himself,
+without declaring it to be the best for others.  He was a little hard,
+perhaps, upon the errors that belong to weakness and conceit--not to
+those that have their source in great natures or generous thoughts.
+Among his characteristics was a profound admiration for England.  His
+own country he half loved, yet half disdained.  The impetuosity and
+levity of his compatriots displeased his sober and dignified notions.
+He could not forgive them (he was wont to say) for having made the two
+grand experiments of popular revolution and military despotism in vain.
+He sympathised neither with the young enthusiasts who desired a
+republic, without well knowing the numerous strata of habits and customs
+upon which that fabric, if designed for permanence, should be built--nor
+with the uneducated and fierce chivalry that longed for a restoration of
+the warrior empire--nor with the dull and arrogant bigots who connected
+all ideas of order and government with the ill-starred and worn-out
+dynasty of the Bourbons.  In fact, GOOD SENSE was with him the
+/principium et fons/ of all theories and all practice.  And it was this
+quality that attached him to the English.  His philosophy on this head
+was rather curious.
+
+"Good sense," said he one day to Maltravers, as they were walking to and
+fro at De Montaigne's villa, by the margin of the lake, "is not a merely
+intellectual attribute.  It is rather the result of a just equilibrium
+of all our faculties, spiritual and moral.  The dishonest, or the toys
+of their own passions, may have genius; but they rarely, if ever, have
+good sense in the conduct of life.  They may often win large prizes, but
+it is by a game of chance, not skill.  But the man whom I perceive
+walking an honourable and upright career--just to others, and also to
+himself (for we owe justice to ourselves--to the care of our fortunes,
+our character--to the management of our passions)--is a more dignified
+representative of his Maker than the mere child of genius.  Of such a
+man we say he has GOOD SENSE; yes, but he has also integrity,
+self-respect, and self-denial.  A thousand trials which his sense raves
+and conquers, are temptations also to his probity--his temper--in a
+word, to all the many sides of his complicated nature.  Now, I do not
+think he will have this /good sense/ any more than a drunkard will have
+strong nerves, unless he be in the constant habit of keeping his mind
+clear from the intoxication of envy, vanity, and the various emotions
+that dupe and mislead us.  Good sense is not, therefore, an abstract
+quality or a solitary talent; but it is the natural result of the habit
+of thinking justly, and therefore seeing clearly, and is as different
+from the sagacity that belongs to a diplomatist or attorney, as the
+philosophy of Socrates differed from the rhetoric of Gorgias.  As a mass
+of individual excellences make up this attribute in a man, so a mass of
+such men thus characterised give a character to a nation.  Your England
+is, therefore, renowned for its good sense, but it is renowned also for
+the excellences which accompany strong sense in an individual--high
+honesty and faith in its dealings, a warm love of justice and fair play,
+a general freedom from the violent crimes common on the Continent, and
+the energetic perseverance in enterprise once commenced, which results
+from a bold and healthful disposition."
+
+"Our wars, our debt--" began Maltravers.
+
+"Pardon me," interrupted De Montaigne, "I am speaking of your people,
+not of your government.  A government is often a very unfair
+representative of a nation.  But even in the wars you allude to, if you
+examine, you will generally find them originate in the love of justice,
+which is the basis of good sense, not from any insane desire of conquest
+or glory.  A man, however sensible, must have a heart in his bosom, and
+a great nation cannot be a piece of selfish clockwork.  Suppose you and
+I are sensible, prudent men, and we see in a crowd one violent fellow
+unjustly knocking another on the head, we should be brutes, not men, if
+we did not interfere with the savage; but if we thrust ourselves into a
+crowd with a large bludgeon, and belabour our neighbours, with the hope
+that the spectators would cry, 'See what a bold, strong fellow that
+is!'--then we should be only playing the madman from the motive of the
+coxcomb.  I fear you will find in the military history of the French and
+English the application of my parable."
+
+"Yet still, I confess, there is a gallantry, and a noblemanlike and
+Norman spirit in the whole French nation, which make me forgive many of
+their excesses, and think they are destined for great purposes, when
+experience shall have sobered their hot blood.  Some nations, as some
+men, are slow in arriving at maturity; others seem men in their cradle.
+The English, thanks to their sturdy Saxon origin, elevated, not
+depressed, by the Norman infusion, never were children.  The difference
+is striking, when you regard the representatives of both in their great
+men--whether writers or active citizens."
+
+"Yes," said De Montaigne, "in Milton and Cromwell there is nothing of
+the brilliant child.  I cannot say as much for Voltaire or Napoleon.
+Even Richelieu, the manliest of our statesmen, had so much of the French
+infant in him as to fancy himself a /beau garcon/, a gallant, a wit, and
+a poet.  As for the Racine school of writers, they were not out of the
+leading-strings of imitation--cold copyists of a pseudo-classic, in
+which they saw the form, and never caught the spirit.  What so little
+Roman, Greek, Hebrew, as their Roman, Greek, and Hebrew dramas?  Your
+rude Shakespeare's /Julius Caesar/--even his /Troilus and
+Cressida/--have the ancient spirit, precisely as they are imitations of
+nothing ancient.  But our Frenchmen copied the giant images of old just
+as the school-girl copies a drawing, by holding it up to the window, and
+tracing the lines on silver paper."
+
+"But your new writers--De Stael--Chateaubriand?"*
+
+* At the time of this conversation the later school, adorned by Victor
+Hugo, who, with notions of art elaborately wrong, is still a man of
+extraordinary genius, had not risen into its present equivocal
+reputation.
+
+"I find no fault with the sentimentalists," answered the severe critic,
+"but that of exceeding feebleness.  They have no bone and muscle in
+their genius--all is flaccid and rotund in its feminine symmetry.  They
+seem to think that vigour consists in florid phrases and little
+aphorisms, and delineate all the mighty tempests of the human heart with
+the polished prettiness of a miniature-painter on ivory.  No!--these two
+are children of another kind--affected, tricked-out, well-dressed
+children--very clever, very precocious--but children still.  Their
+whinings, and their sentimentalities, and their egotism, and their
+vanity, cannot interest masculine beings who know what life and its
+stern objects are."
+
+"Your brother-in-law," said Maltravers with a slight smile, "must find
+in you a discouraging censor."
+
+"My poor Castruccio," replied De Montaigne, with a half-sigh; "he is one
+of those victims whom I believe to be more common than we dream of--men
+whose aspirations are above their powers.  I agree with a great German
+writer, that in the first walks of Art no man has a right to enter,
+unless he is convinced that he has strength and speed for the goal.
+Castruccio might be an amiable member of society, nay, an able and
+useful man, if he would apply the powers he possesses to the rewards
+they may obtain.  He has talent enough to win him reputation in any
+profession but that of a poet."
+
+"But authors who obtain immortality are not always first-rate."
+
+"First-rate in their way, I suspect; even if that way be false or
+trivial.  They must be connected with the /history/ of their literature;
+you must be able to say of them, 'In this school, be it bad or good,
+they exerted such and such an influence;' in a word, they must form a
+link in the great chain of a nation's authors, which may be afterwards
+forgotten by the superficial, but without which the chain would be
+incomplete.  And thus, if not first-rate for all time, they have been
+first-rate in their own day.  But Castruccio is only the echo of
+others--he can neither found a school nor ruin one.  Yet this" (again
+added De Montaigne after a pause)--"this melancholy malady in my
+brother-in-law would cure itself, perhaps, if he were not Italian.  In
+your animated and bustling country, after sufficient disappointment as a
+poet, he would glide into some other calling, and his vanity and craving
+for effect would find a rational and manly outlet.  But in Italy, what
+can a clever man do, if he is not a poet or a robber?  If he love his
+country, that crime is enough to unfit him for civil employment, and his
+mind cannot stir a step in the bold channels of speculation without
+falling foul of the Austrian or the Pope.  No; the best I can hope for
+Castruccio is, that he will end in an antiquary, and dispute about ruins
+with the Romans.  Better that than mediocre poetry."
+
+Maltravers was silent and thoughtful.  Strange to say, De Montaigne's
+views did not discourage his own new and secret ardour for intellectual
+triumphs; not because he felt that he was now able to achieve them, but
+because he felt the iron of his own nature, and knew that a man who has
+iron in his nature must ultimately hit upon some way of shaping the
+metal into use.
+
+The host and guest were now joined by Castruccio himself--silent and
+gloomy as indeed he usually was, especially in the presence of De
+Montaigne, with whom he felt his "self-love" wounded; for though he
+longed to despise his hard brother-in-law, the young poet was compelled
+to acknowledge that De Montaigne was not a man to be despised.
+
+Maltravers dined with the De Montaignes, and spent the evening with
+them.  He could not but observe that Castruccio, who affected in his
+verses the softest sentiments--who was, indeed, by original nature,
+tender and gentle--had become so completely warped by that worst of all
+mental vices--the eternally pondering on his own excellences, talents,
+mortifications, and ill-usage, that he never contributed to the
+gratification of those around him; he had none of the little arts of
+social benevolence, none of the playful youth of disposition which
+usually belongs to the good-hearted, and for which men of a
+master-genius, however elevated their studies, however stern or reserved
+to the vulgar world, are commonly noticeable amidst the friends they
+love or in the home they adorn.  Occupied with one dream, centred in
+self, the young Italian was sullen and morose to all who did not
+sympathise with his own morbid fancies.  From the children--the
+sister--the friend--the whole living earth, he fled to a poem on
+Solitude, or stanzas upon Fame.  Maltravers said to himself, "I will
+never be an author--I will never sigh for renown--if I am to purchase
+shadows at such a price!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+  "It cannot be too deeply impressed on the mind, that application
+   is the price to be paid for mental acquisitions, and that it is
+   as absurd to expect them without it as to hope for a harvest
+   where we have not sown the seed.
+
+  "In everything we do, we may be possibly laying a train of
+   consequences, the operation of which may terminate only with
+   our existence."
+
+     BAILEY: /Essays on the Formation and Publication of Opinions/.
+
+TIME passed, and autumn was far advanced towards winter; still
+Maltravers lingered at Como.  He saw little of any other family than
+that of the De Montaignes, and the greater part of his time was
+necessarily spent alone.  His occupation continued to be that of making
+experiments of his own powers, and these gradually became bolder and
+more comprehensive.  He took care, however, not to show his "Diversions
+of Como" to his new friends: he wanted no audience--he dreamt of no
+Public; he desired merely to practise his own mind.  He became aware, of
+his own accord, as he proceeded, that a man can neither study with such
+depth, nor compose with much art, unless he has some definite object
+before him; in the first, some one branch of knowledge to master; in the
+last, some one conception to work out.  Maltravers fell back upon his
+boyish passion for metaphysical speculation; but with what different
+results did he now wrestle with the subtle schoolmen, now that he had
+practically known mankind.  How insensibly new lights broke in upon him,
+as he threaded the labyrinth of cause and effect, by which we seek to
+arrive at that curious and biform monster--our own nature.  His mind
+became saturated, as it were, with these profound studies and
+meditations; and when at length he paused from them, he felt as if he
+had not been living in solitude, but had gone through a process of
+action in the busy world: so much juster, so much clearer, had become
+his knowledge of himself and others.  But though these researches
+coloured, they did not limit his intellectual pursuits.  Poetry and the
+lighter letters became to him not merely a relaxation, but a critical
+and thoughtful study.  He delighted to penetrate into the causes that
+have made the airy webs spun by men's fancies so permanent and powerful
+in their influence over the hard, work-day world.  And what a lovely
+scene--what a sky--what an air wherein to commence the projects of that
+ambition which seeks to establish an empire in the hearts and memories
+of mankind!  I believe it has a great effect on the future labours of a
+writer,--the place where he first dreams that it is his destiny to
+write!
+
+From these pursuits Ernest was aroused by another letter from Cleveland.
+His kind friend had been disappointed and vexed that Maltravers did not
+follow his advice, and return to England.  He had shown his displeasure
+by not answering Ernest's letter of excuses; but lately he had been
+seized with a dangerous illness which reduced him to the brink of the
+grave; and with a heart softened by the exhaustion of the frame, he now
+wrote in the first moments of convalescence to Maltravers, informing him
+of his attack and danger, and once more urging him to return.  The
+thought that Cleveland--the dear, kind gentle guardian of his youth--had
+been near unto death, that he might never more have hung upon that
+fostering hand, nor replied to that paternal voice, smote Ernest with
+terror and remorse.  He resolved instantly to return to England, and
+made his preparations accordingly.
+
+He went to take leave of the De Montaignes.  Teresa was trying to teach
+her first-born to read; and seated by the open window of the villa, in
+her neat, not precise, /dishabille/--with the little boy's delicate, yet
+bold and healthy countenance looking up fearlessly at hers, while she
+was endeavouring to initiate him--half gravely, half laughingly--into
+the mysteries of monosyllables, the pretty boy and the fair young mother
+made a delightful picture.  De Montaigne was reading the Essays of his
+celebrated namesake, in whom he boasted, I know not with what justice,
+to claim an ancestor.  From time to time he looked from the page to take
+a glance at the progress of his heir, and keep up with the march of
+intellect.  But he did not interfere with the maternal lecture; he was
+wise enough to know that there is a kind of sympathy between a child and
+a mother, which is worth all the grave superiority of a father in making
+learning palatable to young years.  He was far too clever a man not to
+despise all the systems of forcing infants under knowledge-frames, which
+are the present fashion.  He knew that philosophers never made a greater
+mistake than in insisting so much upon beginning abstract education from
+the cradle.  It is quite enough to attend to an infant's temper, and
+correct that cursed predilection for telling fibs which falsifies all
+Dr. Reid's absurd theory about innate propensities to truth, and makes
+the prevailing epidemic of the nursery.  Above all, what advantage ever
+compensates for hurting a child's health or breaking his spirit?  Never
+let him learn, more than you can help it, the crushing bitterness of
+fear.  A bold child who looks you in the face, speaks the truth, and
+shames the devil; that is the stuff of which to make good and brave--ay,
+and wise men!
+
+Maltravers entered, unannounced, into this charming family party, and
+stood unobserved for a few moments, by the open door.  The little pupil
+was the first to perceive him, and, forgetful of monosyllables, ran to
+greet him; for Maltravers, though gentle rather than gay, was a
+favourite with children, and his fair, calm, gracious countenance did
+more for him with them than if, like Goldsmith's Burchell, his pockets
+had been filled with gingerbread and apples.  "Ah, fie on you, Mr.
+Maltravers!"  cried Teresa, rising; "you have blown away all the
+characters I have been endeavouring this last hour to imprint upon
+sand."
+
+"Not so, Signora," said Maltravers, seating himself, and placing the
+child on his knee; "my young friend will set to work again with a
+greater gusto after this little break in upon his labours."
+
+"You will stay with us all day, I hope?" said De Montaigne.
+
+"Indeed," said Maltravers, "I am come to ask permission to do so, for
+to-morrow I depart for England."
+
+"Is it possible?" cried Teresa.  "How sudden!  How we shall miss you!
+Oh! don't go.  But perhaps you have bad news from England?"
+
+"I have news that summon me hence," replied Maltravers; "my guardian and
+second father has been dangerously ill.  I am uneasy about him, and
+reproach myself for having forgotten him so long in your seductive
+society."
+
+"I am really sorry to lose you," said De Montaigne, with greater warmth
+in his tone than in his words.  "I hope heartily we shall meet again
+soon: you will come, perhaps, to Paris?"
+
+"Probably," said Maltravers; "and you, perhaps, to England?"
+
+"Ah, how I should like it!" exclaimed Teresa.
+
+"No, you would not," said her husband; "you would not like England at
+all; you would call it /triste/ beyond measure.  It is one of those
+countries of which a native should be proud, but which has no amusement
+for a stranger, precisely because full of such serious and stirring
+occupations to the citizens.  The pleasantest countries for strangers
+are the worst countries for natives (witness Italy), and /vice versa/."
+
+Teresa shook her dark curls, and would not be convinced.
+
+"And where is Castruccio?" asked Maltravers.
+
+"In his boat on the lake," replied Teresa.  "He will be inconsolable at
+your departure: you are the only person he can understand, or who
+understand him; the only person in Italy--I had almost said in the whole
+world."
+
+"Well, we shall meet at dinner," said Ernest; "meanwhile let me prevail
+on you to accompany me to the /Pliniana/.  I wish to say farewell to
+that crystal spring."
+
+Teresa, delighted at any excursion, readily consented.
+
+"And I too, mamma," cried the child; "and my little sister?"
+
+"Oh, certainly," said Maltravers, speaking for the parents.
+
+So the party was soon ready, and they pushed off in the clear genial
+noontide (for November in Italy is as early as September in the North)
+across the sparkling and dimpled waters.  The children prattled, and the
+grown-up people talked on a thousand matters.  It was a pleasant day,
+that last day at Como!  For the farewells of friendship have indeed
+something of the melancholy, but not the anguish, of those of love.
+Perhaps it would be better if we could get rid of love altogether.  Life
+would go on smoother and happier without it.  Friendship is the wine of
+existence, but love is the dram-drinking.
+
+When they returned, they found Castruccio seated on the lawn.  He did
+not appear so much dejected at the prospect of Ernest's departure as
+Teresa had anticipated; for Castruccio Cesarini was a very jealous man,
+and he had lately been chagrined and discontented with seeing the
+delight that the De Montaignes took in Ernest's society.
+
+"Why is this?" he often asked himself; "why are they more pleased with
+this stranger's society than mine?  My ideas are as fresh, as original;
+I have as much genius, yet even my dry brother-in-law allows /his/
+talents, and predicts that/he/ will be an eminent man! while
+/I/--No!--one is not a prophet in one's own country!"
+
+Unhappy man! his mind bore all the rank weeds of the morbid poetical
+character, and the weeds choked up the flowers that the soil, properly
+cultivated, should alone bear.  Yet that crisis in life awaited
+Castruccio, in which a sensitive and poetical man is made or marred; the
+crisis in which a sentiment is replaced by the passions--in which love
+for some real object gathers the scattered rays of the heart into a
+focus: out of that ordeal he might pass a purer and manlier being--so
+Maltravers often hoped.  Maltravers then little thought how closely
+connected with his own fate was to be that passage in the history of the
+Italian.  Castruccio contrived to take Maltravers aside, and as he led
+the Englishman through the wood that backed the mansion, he said, with
+some embarrassment, "You go, I suppose, to London?"
+
+"I shall pass through it--can I execute any commission for you?"
+
+"Why, yes; my poems!--I think of publishing them in England: your
+aristocracy cultivate the Italian letters; and, perhaps, I may be read
+by the fair and noble--/that/ is the proper audience of poets.  For the
+vulgar herd--I disdain it!"
+
+"My dear Castruccio, I will undertake to see your poems published in
+London, if you wish it; but do not be sanguine.  In England we read
+little poetry, even in our own language, and we are shamefully
+indifferent to foreign literature."
+
+"Yes, foreign literature generally, and you are right; but my poems are
+of another kind.  They must command attention in a polished and
+intelligent circle."
+
+"Well! let the experiment be tried; you can let me have the poems when
+we part."
+
+"I thank you," said Castruccio, in a joyous tone, pressing his friend's
+hand; and for the rest of that evening, he seemed an altered being; he
+even caressed the children, and did not sneer at the grave conversation
+of his brother-in-law.
+
+When Maltravers rose to depart, Castruccio gave him the packet; and
+then, utterly engrossed with his own imagined futurity of fame, vanished
+from the room to indulge his reveries.  He cared no longer for
+Maltravers--he had put him to use--he could not be sorry for his
+departure, for that departure was the Avatar of His appearance to a new
+world.
+
+A small dull rain was falling, though, at intervals, the stars broke
+through the unsettled clouds, and Teresa did not therefore venture from
+the house; she presented her smooth cheek to the young guest to salute,
+pressed him by the hand, and bade him adieu with tears in her eyes.
+"Ah!" said she, "when we meet again I hope you will be married--I shall
+love your wife dearly.  There is no happiness like marriage and home!"
+and she looked with ingenuous tenderness at De Montaigne.
+
+Maltravers sighed;--his thoughts flew back to Alice.  Where now was that
+lone and friendless girl, whose innocent love had once brightened a home
+for /him/?  He answered by a vague and mechanical commonplace, and
+quitted the room with De Montaigne, who insisted on seeing him depart.
+As they neared the lake, De Montaigne broke the silence.
+
+"My dear Maltravers," he said, with a serious and thoughtful affection
+in his voice, "we may not meet again for years.  I have a warm interest
+in your happiness and career--yes, /career/--I repeat the word.  I do
+not habitually seek to inspire young men with ambition.  Enough for most
+of them to be good and honourable citizens.  But in your case it is
+different.  I see in you the earnest and meditative, not rash and
+overweening youth, which is usually productive of a distinguished
+manhood.  Your mind is not yet settled, it is true; but it is fast
+becoming clear and mellow from the first ferment of boyish dreams and
+passions.  You have everything in your favour,--competence, birth,
+connections; and, above all, you are an Englishman!  You have a mighty
+stage, on which, it is true, you cannot establish a footing without
+merit and without labour--so much the better; in which strong and
+resolute rivals will urge you on to emulation, and then competition will
+task your keenest powers.  Think what a glorious fate it is, to have an
+influence on the vast, but ever-growing mind of such a country,--to
+feel, when you retire from the busy scene, that you have played an
+unforgotten part--that you have been the medium, under God's great will,
+of circulating new ideas throughout the world--of upholding the glorious
+priesthood of the Honest and the Beautiful.  This is the true ambition;
+the desire of mere personal notoriety is vanity, not ambition.  Do not
+then be lukewarm or supine.  The trait I have observed in you," added
+the Frenchman, with a smile, "most prejudicial to your chances of
+distinction is, that you are /too/ philosophical, too apt to /cui bono/
+all the exertions that interfere with the indolence of cultivated
+leisure.  And you must not suppose, Maltravers, that an active career
+will be a path of roses.  At present you have no enemies; but the moment
+you attempt distinction, you will be abused; calumniated, reviled.  You
+will be shocked at the wrath you excite, and sigh for your old
+obscurity, and consider, as Franklin has it, that 'you have paid too
+dear for your whistle.' But in return for individual enemies, what a
+noble recompense to have made the Public itself your friend; perhaps
+even Posterity your familiar!  Besides," added De Montaigne, with almost
+a religious solemnity in his voice, "there is a conscience of the head
+as well as of the heart, and in old age we feel as much remorse if we
+have wasted our natural talents as if we had perverted our natural
+virtues.  The profound and exultant satisfaction with which a man who
+knows that he has not lived in vain--that he has entailed on the world
+an heirloom of instruction or delight--looks back upon departed
+struggles, is one of the happiest emotions of which the conscience can
+be capable.  What, indeed, are the petty faults we commit as
+individuals, affecting but a narrow circle, ceasing with our own lives,
+to the incalculable and everlasting good we may produce as public men by
+one book or by one law?  Depend upon it that the Almighty, who sums up
+all the good and all the evil done by His creatures in a just balance,
+will not judge the august benefactors of the world with the same
+severity as those drones of society, who have no great services to show
+in the eternal ledger, as a set-off to the indulgence of their small
+vices.  These things rightly considered, Maltravers, you will have every
+inducement that can tempt a lofty mind and a pure ambition to awaken
+from the voluptuous indolence of the literary Sybarite, and contend
+worthily in the world's wide Altis for a great prize."
+
+Maltravers never before felt so flattered--so stirred into high
+resolves.  The stately eloquence, the fervid encouragement of this man,
+usually so cold and fastidious, roused him like the sound of a trumpet.
+He stopped short, his breath heaved thick, his cheek flushed.  "De
+Montaigne," said he, "your words have cleared away a thousand doubts and
+scruples--they have gone right to my heart.  For the first time I
+understand what fame is--what the object, and what the reward of labour!
+Visions, hopes, aspirations I may have had before--for months a new
+spirit has been fluttering within me.  I have felt the wings breaking
+from the shell, but all was confused, dim, uncertain.  I doubted the
+wisdom of effort, with life so short, and the pleasures of youth so
+sweet.  I now look no longer on life but as a part of the eternity to
+which I /feel/ we were born; and I recognise the solemn truth that our
+objects, to be worthy life, should be worthy of creatures in whom the
+living principle never is extinct.  Farewell! come joy or sorrow,
+failure or success, I will struggle to deserve your friendship."
+
+Maltravers sprang into his boat, and the shades of night soon snatched
+him from the lingering gaze of De Montaigne.
+
+
+
+BOOK IV.
+
+  "Strange is the land that holds thee,--and thy couch
+   is widow'd of the loved one."
+     EURIP. /Med./ 442
+       Translation by R. G.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+               "I, alas!
+   Have lived but on this earth a few sad years;
+   And so my lot was ordered, that a father
+   First turned the moments of awakening life
+   To drops, each poisoning youth's sweet hope."
+     "/Cenci/."
+
+FROM accompanying Maltravers along the noiseless progress of mental
+education, we are now called awhile to cast our glances back at the
+ruder and harsher ordeal which Alice Darvil was ordained to pass.  Along
+her path poetry shed no flowers, nor were her lonely steps towards the
+distant shrine at which her pilgrimage found its rest lighted by the
+mystic lamp of science, or guided by the thousand stars which are never
+dim in the heavens for those favoured eyes from which genius and fancy
+have removed many of the films of clay.  Not along the aerial and
+exalted ways that wind far above the homes and business of common
+men--the solitary Alps of Spiritual Philosophy--wandered the desolate
+steps of the child of poverty and sorrow.  On the beaten and rugged
+highways of common life, with a weary heart, and with bleeding feet, she
+went her melancholy course.  But the goal which is the great secret of
+life, the /summum arcanum/ of all philosophy, whether the Practical or
+the Ideal, was, perhaps, no less attainable for that humble girl than
+for the elastic step and aspiring heart of him who thirsted after the
+Great, and almost believed in the Impossible.
+
+We return to that dismal night in which Alice was torn from the roof of
+her lover.  It was long before she recovered her consciousness of what
+had passed, and gained a full perception of the fearful revolution which
+had taken place in her destinies.  It was then a grey and dreary morning
+twilight; and the rude but covered vehicle which bore her was rolling
+along the deep ruts of an unfrequented road, winding among the
+uninclosed and mountainous wastes that, in England, usually betoken the
+neighbourhood of the sea.  With a shudder Alice looked round: Walters,
+her father's accomplice, lay extended at her feet, and his heavy
+breathing showed that he was fast asleep.  Darvil himself was urging on
+the jaded and sorry horse, and his broad back was turned towards Alice;
+the rain, from which, in his position, he was but ill protected by the
+awning, dripped dismally from his slouched hat; and now, as he turned
+round, and his sinister and gloomy gaze rested upon the face of Alice,
+his bad countenance, rendered more haggard by the cold raw light of the
+cheerless dawn, completed the hideous picture of unveiled and ruffianly
+wretchedness.
+
+"Ho, ho! Alley, so you are come to your senses," said he, with a kind of
+joyless grin.  "I am glad of it, for I can have no fainting fine ladies
+with me.  You have had a long holiday, Alley; you must now learn once
+more to work for your poor father.  Ah, you have been d----d sly; but
+never mind the past--I forgive it.  You must not run away again without
+my leave; if you are fond of sweethearts, I won't balk you--but your old
+father must go shares, Alley."
+
+Alice could hear no more: she covered her face with the cloak that had
+been thrown about her, and though she did not faint, her senses seemed
+to be locked and paralysed.  By and by Walters woke, and the two men,
+heedless of her presence, conversed upon their plans.  By degrees she
+recovered sufficient self-possession to listen, in the instinctive hope
+that some plan of escape might be suggested to her.  But from what she
+could gather of the incoherent and various projects they discussed, one
+after another--disputing upon each with frightful oaths and scarce
+intelligible slang, she could only learn that it was resolved at all
+events to leave the district in which they were--but whither seemed yet
+all undecided.  The cart halted at last at a miserable-looking hut,
+which the signpost announced to be an inn that afforded good
+accommodation to travellers; to which announcement was annexed the
+following epigrammatic distich:
+
+  "Old Tom, he is the best of gin;
+   Drink him once, and you'll drink him /agin/!"
+
+The hovel stood so remote from all other habitations, and the waste
+around was so bare of trees, and even shrubs, that Alice saw with
+despair that all hope of flight in such a place would be indeed a
+chimera.  But to make assurance doubly sure, Darvil himself, lifting her
+from the cart, conducted her up a broken and unlighted staircase, into a
+sort of loft rather than a room, and, rudely pushing her in, turned the
+key upon her, and descended.  The weather was cold, the livid damps hung
+upon the distained walls, and there was neither fire nor hearth; but
+thinly clad as she was--her cloak and shawl her principal covering--she
+did not feel the cold, for her heart was more chilly than the airs of
+heaven.  At noon an old woman brought her some food, which, consisting
+of fish and poached game, was better than might have been expected in
+such a place, and what would have been deemed a feast under her father's
+roof.  With an inviting leer, the crone pointed to a pewter measure of
+raw spirits that accompanied the viands, and assured her, in a cracked
+and maudlin voice, that "'Old Tom' was a kinder friend than any of the
+young fellers!"  This intrusion ended, Alice was again left alone till
+dusk, when Darvil entered with a bundle of clothes, such as are worn by
+the peasants of that primitive district of England.
+
+"There, Alley," said he, "put on this warm toggery; finery won't do now.
+We must leave no scent in the track; the hounds are after us, my little
+blowen.  Here's a nice stuff gown for you, and a red cloak that would
+frighten a turkey-cock.  As to the other cloak and shawl, don't be
+afraid; they sha'n't go to the pop-shop, but we'll take care of them
+against we get to some large town where there are young fellows with
+blunt in their pockets; for you seem to have already found out that your
+face is your fortune, Alley.  Come, make haste, we must be starting.  I
+shall come up for you in ten minutes.  Pish! don't be faint hearted;
+here, take 'Old Tom'--take it, I say.  What, you won't?  Well, here's to
+your health, and a better taste to you!"
+
+And now, as the door once more closed upon Darvil, tears for the first
+time came to the relief of Alice.  It was a woman's weakness that
+procured for her that woman's luxury.  Those garments--they were
+Ernest's gift--Ernest's taste; they were like the last relic of that
+delicious life which now seemed to have fled for ever.  All traces of
+that life--of him, the loving, the protecting, the adored; all trace of
+herself, as she had been re-created by love, was to be lost to her for
+ever.  It was (as she had read somewhere, in the little elementary
+volumes that bounded her historic lore) like that last fatal ceremony in
+which those condemned for life to the mines of Siberia are clothed with
+the slave's livery, their past name and record eternally blotted out,
+and thrust into the vast wastes, from which even the mercy of despotism,
+should it ever re-awaken, cannot recall them; for all evidence of
+them--all individuality--all mark to distinguish them from the universal
+herd, is expunged from the world's calendar.  She was still sobbing in
+vehement and unrestrained passion, when Darvil re-entered.  "What, not
+dressed  yet?" he exclaimed, in a voice of impatient rage; "hark ye,
+this won't do.  If in two minutes you are not ready, I'll send up John
+Walters to help you; and he is a rough hand, I can tell you."
+
+This threat recalled Alice, to herself.  "I will do as you wish," said
+she meekly.
+
+"Well, then, be quick," said Darvil; "they are now putting the horse to.
+And mark me, girl, your father is running away from the gallows, and
+that thought does not make a man stand upon scruples.  If you once
+attempt to give me the slip, or do or say anything that can bring the
+bulkies upon us--by the devil in hell!--if, indeed, there be hell or
+devil--my knife shall become better acquainted with that throat--so look
+to it!"
+
+And this was the father--this the condition--of her whose ear had for
+months drunk no other sound than the whispers of flattering love--the
+murmurs of Passion from the lips of Poetry.
+
+They continued their journey till midnight; they then arrived at an inn,
+little different from the last; but here Alice was no longer consigned
+to solitude.  In a long room, reeking with smoke, sat from twenty to
+thirty ruffians before a table on which mugs and vessels of strong
+potations were formidably interspersed with sabres and pistols.  They
+received Walters and Darvil with a shout of welcome, and would have
+crowded somewhat unceremoniously round Alice, if her father, whose
+well-known desperate and brutal ferocity made him a man to be respected
+in such an assembly, had not said, sternly, "Hands off, messmates, and
+make way by the fire for my little girl--she is meat for your masters."
+
+So saying, he pushed Alice down into a huge chair in the chimney-nook,
+and, seating himself near her, at the end of the table, hastened to turn
+the conversation.
+
+"Well, Captain," said he, addressing a small thin man at the head of the
+table, "I and Walters have fairly cut and run--the land has a bad air
+for us, and we now want the sea-breeze to cure the rope fever.  So,
+knowing this was your night, we have crowded sail, and here we are.  You
+must give the girl there a lift, though I know you don't like such
+lumber, and we'll run ashore as soon as we can."
+
+"She seems a quiet little body," replied the captain; "and we would do
+more than that to oblige an old friend like you.  In half an hour
+Oliver* puts on his nightcap, and we must then be off."
+
+* The moon.
+
+"The sooner the better."
+
+The men now appeared to forget the presence of Alice, who sat faint with
+fatigue and exhaustion, for she had been too sick at heart to touch the
+food brought to her at their previous halting-place, gazing abstractedly
+upon the fire.  Her father, before their departure, made her swallow
+some morsels of sea-biscuit, though each seemed to choke her; and then,
+wrapped in a thick boat-cloak, she was placed in a small well-built
+cutter; and as the sea-winds whistled round her, the present cold and
+the past fatigues lulled her miserable heart into the arms of the
+charitable Sleep.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+  "You are once more a free woman;
+   Here I discharge your bonds."
+     /The Custom of the Country/.
+
+AND many were thy trials, poor child; many that, were this book to
+germinate into volumes more numerous than monk ever composed upon the
+lives of saint or martyr (though a hundred volumes contained the record
+of two years only in the life of St. Anthony), it would be impossible to
+describe!  We may talk of the fidelity of books, but no man ever wrote
+even his own biography without being compelled to omit at least
+nine-tenths of the most important materials.  What are three--what six
+volumes?  We live six volumes in a day!  Thought, emotion, joy, sorrow,
+hope, fear, how prolix would they be if they might each tell their
+hourly tale!  But man's life itself is a brief epitome of that which is
+infinite and everlasting; and his most accurate confessions are a
+miserable abridgment of a hurried and confused compendium!
+
+It was about three months, or more, from the night in which Alice wept
+herself to sleep amongst those wild companions, when she contrived to
+escape from her father's vigilant eye.  They were then on the coast of
+Ireland.  Darvil had separated himself from Walters--from his seafaring
+companions: he had run through the greater part of the money his crimes
+had got together; he began seriously to attempt putting into execution
+his horrible design of depending for support upon the sale of his
+daughter.  Now Alice might have been moulded into sinful purposes before
+she knew Maltravers; but from that hour her very error made her
+virtuous--she had comprehended, the moment she loved, what was meant by
+female honour; and by a sudden revelation, she had purchased modesty,
+delicacy of thought and soul, in the sacrifice of herself.  Much of our
+morality (prudent and right upon system) with respect to the first false
+step of women, leads us, as we all know, into barbarous errors as to
+individual exceptions.  Where, from pure and confiding love, that first
+false step has been taken, many a woman has been saved in after life
+from a thousand temptations.  The poor unfortunates who crowd our
+streets and theatres have rarely, in the first instances, been corrupted
+by love; but by poverty, and the contagion of circumstance and example.
+It is a miserable cant phrase to call them the victims of seduction;
+they have been the victims of hunger, of vanity, of curiosity, of evil
+/female/ counsels; but the seduction of love hardly ever conducts to a
+/life/ of vice.  If a woman has once really loved, the beloved object
+makes an impenetrable barrier between her and other men; their advances
+terrify and revolt--she would rather die than be unfaithful even to a
+memory.  Though man love the sex, woman loves only the individual; and
+the more she loves him, the more cold she is to the species.  For the
+passion of woman is in the sentiment--the fancy--the heart.  It rarely
+has much to do with the coarse images with which boys and old men--the
+inexperienced and the worn-out--connect it.
+
+But Alice, though her blood ran cold at her terrible father's language,
+saw in his very design the prospect of escape.  In an hour of
+drunkenness he thrust her from the house, and stationed himself to watch
+her--it was in the city of Cork.  She formed her resolution
+instantly--turned up a narrow street, and fled at full speed.  Darvil
+endeavoured in vain to keep pace with her--his eyes dizzy, his steps
+reeling with intoxication.  She heard his last curse dying from a
+distance on the air, and her fear winged her steps: she paused at last,
+and found herself on the outskirts of the town.  She paused, overcome,
+and deadly faint; and then, for the first time, she felt that a strange
+and new life was stirring within her own.  She had long since known that
+she bore in her womb the unborn offspring of Maltravers, and that
+knowledge had made her struggle and live on.  But now, the embryo had
+quickened into being--it moved--it appealed to her, a--thing unseen,
+unknown; but still it was a living creature appealing to a mother!  Oh,
+the thrill, half of ineffable tenderness, half of mysterious terror, at
+that moment!--What a new chapter in the life of a woman did it not
+announce:--Now, then, she must be watchful over herself--must guard
+against fatigue--must wrestle with despair.  Solemn was the trust
+committed to her--the life of another--the child of the Adored.  It was
+a summer night--she sat on a rude stone, the city on one side, with its
+lights and lamps;--the whitened fields beyond, with the moon and the
+stars above; and /above/ she raised her streaming eyes, and she thought
+that God, the Protector, smiled upon her from the face of the sweet
+skies.  So, after a pause and a silent prayer, she rose and resumed her
+way.  When she was wearied she crept into a shed in a farmyard, and
+slept, for the first time for weeks, the calm sleep of security and
+hope.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+  "How like a prodigal doth she return,
+   With over-weathered ribs and ragged sails."
+     /Merchant of Venice/.
+
+  "/Mer./  What are these?
+   /Uncle./  The tenants."
+     BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.--/Wit without Money/.
+
+IT was just two years from the night in which Alice had been torn from
+the cottage: and at that time Maltravers was wandering amongst the ruins
+of ancient Egypt, when, upon the very lawn where Alice and her lover had
+so often loitered hand in hand, a gay party of children and young people
+were assembled.  The cottage had been purchased by an opulent and
+retired manufacturer.  He had raised the low thatched roof another story
+high--and blue slate had replaced the thatch--and the pretty verandahs
+overgrown with creepers had been taken down because Mrs. Hobbs thought
+they gave the rooms a dull look; and the little rustic doorway had been
+replaced by four Ionic pillars in stucco; and a new dining-room,
+twenty-two feet by eighteen, had been built out at one wing, and a new
+drawing-room had been built over the new dining-room.  And the poor
+little cottage looked quite grand and villa-like.  The fountain had been
+taken away, because it made the house damp; and there was such a broad
+carriage-drive from the gate to the house!  The gate was no longer the
+modest green wooden gate, ever ajar with its easy latch; but a tall,
+cast-iron, well-locked gate, between two pillars to match the porch.
+And on one of the gates was a brass plate, on which was graven, "Hobbs'
+Lodge--Ring the bell."  The lesser Hobbses and the bigger Hobbses were
+all on the lawn--many of them fresh from school--for it was the
+half-holiday of a Saturday afternoon.  There was mirth, and noise, and
+shouting and whooping, and the respectable old couple looked calmly on;
+Hobbs the father smoking his pipe (alas, it was not the dear
+meerschaum); Hobbs the mother talking to her eldest daughter (a fine
+young woman, three months married, for love, to a poor man), upon the
+proper number of days that a leg of mutton (weight ten pounds) should be
+made to last.  "Always, my dear, have large joints, they are much the
+most saving.  Let me see--what a noise the boys do make!  No, my love,
+the ball's not here."
+
+"Mamma, it is under your petticoats."
+
+"La, child, how naughty you are!"
+
+"Holla, you sir! it's my turn to go in now.  Biddy, wait,--girls have no
+innings--girls only fag out."
+
+"Bob, you cheat."
+
+"Pa, Ned says I cheat."
+
+"Very likely, my dear, you are to be a lawyer."
+
+"Where was I, my dear?" resumed Mrs. Hobbs, resettling herself, and
+readjusting the invaded petticoats.  "Oh, about the leg of mutton!--yes,
+large joints are the best--the second day a nice hash, with dumplings;
+the third, broil the bone--your husband is sure to like broiled
+bones!--and then keep the scraps for Saturday's pie;--you know, my dear,
+your father and I were worse off than you when we began.  But now we
+have everything that is handsome about us--nothing like management.
+Saturday pies are very nice things, and then you start clear with your
+joint on Sunday.  A good wife like you should never neglect the
+Saturday's pie!"
+
+"Yes," said the bride, mournfully; "but Mr. Tiddy does not like pies."
+
+"Not like pies! that very odd--Mr. Hobbs likes pies--perhaps you don't
+have the crust made thick eno'.  How somever, you can make it up to him
+with a pudding.  A wife should always study her husband's tastes--what
+is a man's home without love?  Still a husband ought not to be
+aggravating, and dislike pie on a Saturday!"
+
+"Holla! I say, ma, do you see that 'ere gipsy?  I shall go and have my
+fortune told."
+
+"And I--and I!"
+
+"Lor, if there ben't a tramper!" cried Mr. Hobbs, rising indignantly;
+"what can the parish be about?"
+
+The object of these latter remarks, filial and paternal, was a young
+woman in a worn, threadbare cloak, with her face pressed to the openwork
+of the gate, and looking wistfully--oh, how wistfully!--within.  The
+children eagerly ran up to her, but they involuntarily slackened their
+steps when they drew near, for she was evidently not what they had taken
+her for.  No gipsy hues darkened the pale, thin, delicate cheek--no
+gipsy leer lurked in those large blue and streaming eyes--no gipsy
+effrontery bronzed that candid and childish brow.  As she thus pressed
+her countenance with convulsive eagerness against the cold bars, the
+young people caught the contagion of inexpressible and half-fearful
+sadness--they approached almost respectfully--"Do you want anything
+here?" said the eldest and boldest of the boys.
+
+"I--I--surely this is Dale Cottage?"
+
+"It was Dale Cottage, it is Hobbs' Lodge now; can't you read?" said the
+heir of the Hobbs's honours, losing, in contempt at the girl's
+ignorance, his first impression of sympathy.
+
+"And--and--Mr. Butler, is he gone too?"
+
+Poor child! she spoke as if the cottage was gone, not improved; the
+Ionic portico had no charm for her!
+
+"Butler!--no such person lives here.  Pa, do you know where Mr. Butler
+lives?"
+
+Pa was now moving up to the place of conference the slow artillery of
+his fair round belly and portly calves.  "Butler, no--I know nothing of
+such a name--no Mr. Butler lives here.  Go along with you--ain't you
+ashamed to beg?"
+
+"No Mr. Butler!" said the girl, gasping for breath, and clinging to the
+gate for support.  "Are you sure, sir?"
+
+"Sure, yes!--what do you want with him?"
+
+"Oh, papa, she looks faint!" said one of the /girls/ deprecatingly--"do
+let her have something to eat; I'm sure she's hungry."
+
+Mr. Hobbs looked angry; he had often been taken in, and no rich man
+likes beggars.  Generally speaking, the rich man is in the right.  But
+then Mr. Hobbs turned to the suspected tramper's sorrowful face and then
+to his fair pretty child--and his good angel whispered something to Mr.
+Hobbs's heart--and he said, after a pause, "Heaven forbid that we should
+not feel for a poor fellow-creature not so well to do as ourselves.
+Come in, my lass, and have a morsel to eat."
+
+The girl did not seem to hear him, and he repeated the invitation,
+approaching to unlock the gate.
+
+"No, sir," said she, then; "no, I thank you.  I could not come in now.
+I could not eat here.  But tell me, sir, I implore you, can you not even
+guess where I may find Mr. Butler?"
+
+"Butler!" said Mrs. Hobbs, whom curiosity had now drawn to the spot.  "I
+remember that was the name of the gentleman who hired the place, and was
+robbed."
+
+"Robbed!" said Mr. Hobbs, falling back and relocking the gate--"and the
+new tea-pot just come home," he muttered inly.  "Come, be off, child--be
+off; we know nothing of your Mr. Butlers."
+
+The young woman looked wildly in his face, cast a hurried glance over
+the altered spot, and then, with a kind of shiver, as if the wind had
+smitten her delicate form too rudely, she drew her cloak more closely
+round her shoulders, and without saying another word, moved away.  The
+party looked after her as, with trembling steps, she passed down the
+road, and all felt that pang of shame which is common to the human heart
+at the sight of a distress it has not sought to soothe.  But this
+feeling vanished at once from the breast of Mrs. and Mr. Hobbs, when
+they saw the girl stop where a turn of the road brought the gate before
+her eyes; and for the first time, they perceived, what the worn cloak
+had hitherto concealed, that the poor young thing bore an infant in her
+arms.  She halted, she gazed fondly back.  Even at that instant the
+despair of her eyes was visible; and then, as she pressed her lips to
+the infant's brow, they heard a convulsive sob--they saw her turn away,
+and she was gone!
+
+"Well, I declare!" said Mrs. Hobbs.
+
+"News for the parish," said Mr. Hobbs; "and she so young too!--what a
+shame!"
+
+"The girls about here are very bad nowadays, Jenny," said the mother to
+the bride.
+
+"I see now why she wanted Mr. Butler," quoth Hobbs, with a knowing
+wink--"the slut has come to swear!"
+
+And it was for this that Alice had supported her strength--her
+courage-during the sharp pangs of childbirth; during a severe and
+crushing illness, which for months after her confinement had stretched
+her upon a peasant's bed (the object of the rude but kindly charity of
+an Irish shealing)--for this, day after day, she had whispered to
+herself, "I shall get well, and I will beg my way to the cottage, and
+find him there still, and put my little one into his arms, and all will
+be bright again;"--for this, as soon as she could walk without aid, had
+she set out on foot from the distant land; for this, almost with a dog's
+instinct (for she knew not what way to turn--what county the cottage was
+placed in; she only knew the name of the neighbouring town; and that,
+populous as it was, sounded strange to the ears of those she asked; and
+she had often and often been directed wrong),--for this, I say, almost
+with a dog's faithful instinct, had she, in cold and heat, in hunger and
+in thirst, tracked to her old master's home her desolate and lonely way!
+And thrice had she over-fatigued herself--and thrice again been indebted
+to humble pity for a bed whereon to lay a feverish and broken frame.
+And once, too, her baby--her darling, her life of life, had been
+ill--had been near unto death, and she could not stir till the infant
+(it was a girl) was well again, and could smile in her face and crow.
+And thus many, many months had elapsed, since the day she set out on her
+pilgrimage, to that on which she found its goal.  But never, save when
+the child was ill, had she desponded or abated heart and hope.  She
+should see him again, and he would kiss her child.  And now--no--I
+cannot paint the might of that stunning blow!  She knew not, she dreamed
+not, of the kind precautions Maltravers had taken; and he had not
+sufficiently calculated on her thorough ignorance of the world.  How
+could she divine that the magistrate, not a mile distant from her, could
+have told her all she sought to know?  Could she but have met the
+gardener--or the old woman-servant--all would have been well!  These
+last, indeed, she had the forethought to ask for.  But the woman was
+dead, and the gardener had taken a strange service in some distant
+county.  And so died her last gleam of hope.  If one person who
+remembered the search of Maltravers had but met and recognised her!  But
+she had been seen by so few--and now the bright, fresh girl was so sadly
+altered!  Her race was not yet run, and many a sharp wind upon the
+mournful seas had the bark to brave before its haven was found at last.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+               "Patience and sorrow strove
+   Which should express her goodliest."--SHAKESPEARE.
+
+  "Je /la/ plains, je /la/ blame, et je suis son appui."*-VOLTAIRE.
+
+* I pity her, I blame her, and am her support.
+
+AND now Alice felt that she was on the wide world alone, with her
+child--no longer to be protected, but to protect; and after the first
+few days of agony, a new spirit, not indeed of hope, but of endurance,
+passed within her.  Her solitary wanderings, with God her only guide,
+had tended greatly to elevate and confirm her character.  She felt a
+strong reliance on His mysterious mercy--she felt, too, the
+responsibility of a mother.  Thrown for so many months upon her own
+resources, even for the bread of life, her intellect was unconsciously
+sharpened, and a habit of patient fortitude had strengthened a nature
+originally clinging and femininely soft.  She resolved to pass into some
+other county, for she could neither bear the thoughts that haunted the
+neighbourhood around her, nor think, without a loathing horror, of the
+possibility of her father's return.  Accordingly, one day, she renewed
+her wanderings--and after a week's travel, arrived at a small village.
+Charity is so common in England, it so spontaneously springs up
+everywhere, like the good seed by the roadside, that she had rarely
+wanted the bare necessaries of existence.  And her humble manner, and
+sweet, well-tuned voice, so free from the professional whine of
+mendicancy, had usually its charm for the sternest.  So she generally
+obtained enough to buy bread and a night's lodging, and, if sometimes
+she failed, she could bear hunger, and was not afraid of creeping into
+some shed, or, when by the sea-shore, even into some sheltering cavern.
+Her child throve too--for God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb!  But
+now, so far as physical privation went, the worst was over.
+
+It so happened that as Alice was drawing herself wearily along to the
+entrance of the village which was to bound her day's journey, she was
+met by a lady, past middle age, in whose countenance compassion was so
+visible, that Alice would not beg, for she had a strange delicacy or
+pride, or whatever it may be called, and rather begged of the stern than
+of those who looked kindly at her--she did not like to lower herself in
+the eyes of the last.
+
+The lady stopped.
+
+"My poor girl, where are you going?"
+
+"Where God pleases, madam," said Alice.
+
+"Humph! and is that your own child?--you are almost a child yourself."
+
+"It is mine, madam," said Alice, gazing fondly at the infant; "it is my
+all!"
+
+The lady's voice faltered.  "Are you married?" she asked.
+
+"Married!--Oh, no, madam!" replied Alice, innocently, yet without
+blushing, for she never knew that she had done wrong in loving
+Maltravers.
+
+The lady drew gently back, but not in horror--no, in still deeper
+compassion; for that lady had virtue, and she knew that the faults of
+her sex are sufficiently punished to permit Virtue to pity them without
+a sin.
+
+"I am sorry for it," she said, however, with greater gravity.  "Are you
+travelling to seek the father?"
+
+"Ah, madam!  I shall never see him again!"  And Alice wept.
+
+"What!--he has abandoned you--so young, so beautiful!" added the lady to
+herself.
+
+"Abandoned me!--no, madam; but it is a long tale.  Good evening--I thank
+you kindly for your pity."
+
+The lady's eyes ran over.
+
+"Stay," said she; "tell me frankly where you are going, and what is your
+object."
+
+"Alas! madam, I am going anywhere, for I have no home; but I wish to
+live, and work for my living, in order that my child may not want for
+anything.  I wish I could maintain myself--he used to say I could."
+
+"He!--your language and manner are not those of a peasant.  What can you
+do?  What do you know?"
+
+"Music, and work, and--and--"
+
+"Music!--this is strange!  What were your parents?"
+
+Alice shuddered, and hid her face with her hands.
+
+The lady's interest was now fairly warmed in her behalf.
+
+"She has sinned," said she to herself; "but at that age, how can one be
+harsh?  She must not be thrown upon the world to make sin a habit.
+Follow me," she said, after a little pause; "and think you have found a
+friend."
+
+The lady then turned from the high-road down a green lane which led to a
+park lodge.  This lodge she entered; and after a short conversation with
+the inmate, beckoned to Alice to join her.
+
+"Janet," said Alice's new protector to a comely and pleasant-eyed woman,
+"this is the young person--you will show her and the infant every
+attention.  I shall send down proper clothing for her to-morrow, and I
+shall then have thought what will be best for her future welfare."
+
+With that the lady smiled benignly upon Alice, whose heart was too full
+to speak; and the door of the cottage closed upon her, and Alice thought
+the day had grown darker.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+  "Believe me, she has won me much to pity her.
+   Alas! her gentle nature was not made
+   To buffet with adversity."--ROWE.
+
+  "Sober he was, and grave from early youth,
+   Mindful of forms, but more intent on truth;
+   In a light drab he uniformly dress'd,
+   And look serene th' unruffled mind express'd.
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+  "Yet might observers in his sparkling eye
+   Some observation, some acuteness spy
+   The friendly thought it keen, the treacherous deem'd it sly;
+   Yet not a crime could foe or friend detect,
+   His actions all were like his speech correct--
+   Chaste, sober, solemn, and devout they named
+   Him who was this, and not of this ashamed."--CRABBE.
+
+  "I'll on and sound this secret."--BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
+
+MRS. LESLIE, the lady introduced to the reader in the last chapter, was
+a woman of the firmest intellect combined (no unusual combination) with
+the softest heart.  She learned Alice's history with admiration and
+pity.  The natural innocence and honesty of the young mother spoke so
+eloquently in her words and looks, that Mrs. Leslie, on hearing her
+tale, found much less to forgive than she had anticipated.  Still she
+deemed it necessary to enlighten Alice as to the criminality of the
+connection she had formed.  But here Alice was singularly dull--she
+listened in meek patience to Mrs. Leslie's lecture; but it evidently
+made but slight impression on her.  She had not yet seen enough of the
+social state to correct the first impressions of the natural: and all
+she could say in answer to Mrs. Leslie was: "It may be all very true,
+madam, but I have been so much better since I knew him!"
+
+But though Alice took humbly any censure upon herself, she would not
+hear a syllable insinuated against Maltravers.  When, in a very natural
+indignation, Mrs. Leslie denounced him as a destroyer of innocence--for
+Mrs. Leslie could not learn all that extenuated his offence--Alice
+started up with flashing eyes and heaving heart, and would have hurried
+from the only shelter she had in the wide world--she would sooner have
+died--she would sooner even have seen her child die, than done that idol
+of her soul, who, in her eyes, stood alone on some pinnacle between
+earth and heaven, the wrong of hearing him reviled.  With difficulty
+Mrs. Leslie could restrain, with still more difficulty could she pacify
+and soothe her; and for the girl's petulance, which others might have
+deemed insolent or ungrateful, the woman-heart of Mrs. Leslie loved her
+all the better.  The more she saw of Alice, and the more she
+comprehended her story and her character, the more was she lost in
+wonder at the romance of which this beautiful child had been the
+heroine, and the more perplexed she was as to Alice's future prospects.
+
+At length, however, when she became acquainted with Alice's musical
+acquirements, which were, indeed, of no common order, a light broke in
+upon her.  Here was the source of her future independence.  Maltravers,
+it will be remembered, was a musician of consummate skill as well as
+taste, and Alice's natural talent for the art had advanced her, in the
+space of months, to a degree of perfection which it cost others--which
+it had cost even the quick Maltravers--years to obtain.  But we learn so
+rapidly when our teachers are those we love: and it may be observed that
+the less our knowledge, the less perhaps our genius in other things, the
+more facile are our attainments in music, which is a very jealous
+mistress of the mind.  Mrs. Leslie resolved to have her perfected in
+this art, and so enable her to become a teacher to others.  In the town
+of C------, about thirty miles from Mrs. Leslie's house, though in the
+same county, there was no inconsiderable circle of wealthy and
+intelligent persons; for it was a cathedral town, and the resident
+clergy drew around them a kind of provincial aristocracy.  Here, as in
+most rural towns in England, music was much cultivated, both among the
+higher and middle classes.  There were amateur concerts, and glee-clubs,
+and subscriptions for sacred music; and once every five years there was
+the great C------ Festival.  In this town Mrs. Leslie established Alice:
+she placed her under the roof of a /ci-devant/ music-master, who, having
+retired from his profession, was no longer jealous of rivals, but who,
+by handsome terms, was induced to complete the education of Alice.  It
+was an eligible and comfortable abode, and the music-master and his wife
+were a good-natured easy old couple.
+
+Three months of resolute and unceasing perseverance, combined with the
+singular ductility and native gifts of Alice, sufficed to render her the
+most promising pupil the good musician had ever accomplished; and in
+three months more, introduced by Mrs. Leslie to many of the families in
+the place, Alice was established in a home of her own; and, what with
+regular lessons, and occasional assistance at musical parties, she was
+fairly earning what her tutor reasonably pronounced to be "a very
+genteel independence."
+
+Now, in these arrangements (for we must here go back a little), there
+had been one gigantic difficulty of conscience in one party, of feeling
+in another, to surmount.  Mrs. Leslie saw at once that unless Alice's
+misfortune was concealed, all the virtues and all the talents in the
+world could not enable her to retrace the one false step.  Mrs. Leslie
+was a woman of habitual truth and strict rectitude, and she was sorely
+perplexed between the propriety of candour and its cruelty.  She felt
+unequal to take the responsibility of action on herself; and, after much
+meditation, she resolved to confide her scruples to one who, of all whom
+she knew, possessed the highest character for moral worth and religious
+sanctity.  This gentleman, lately a widower, lived at the outskirts of
+the town selected for Alice's future residence, and at that time
+happened to be on a visit in Mrs. Leslie's neighbourhood.  He was an
+opulent man, a banker; he had once represented the town in parliament,
+and retiring, from disinclination to the late hours and onerous fatigues
+even of an unreformed House of Commons, he still possessed an influence
+to return one, if not both, of the members for the city of C------.  And
+that influence was always exerted so as best to secure his own interest
+with the powers that be, and advance certain objects of ambition (for he
+was both an ostentatious and ambitious man in his own way), which he
+felt he might more easily obtain by proxy than by his own votes and
+voice in parliament--an atmosphere in which his light did not shine.
+And it was with a wonderful address that the banker contrived at once to
+support the government, and yet, by the frequent expression of liberal
+opinions, to conciliate the Whigs and the Dissenters of his
+neighbourhood.  Parties, political and sectarian, were not then so
+irreconcilable as they are now.  In the whole county there was no one so
+respected as this eminent person, and yet he possessed no shining
+talents, though a laborious and energetic man of business.  It was
+solely and wholly the force of moral character which gave him his
+position in society.  He felt this; he was sensitively proud of it; he
+was painfully anxious not to lose an atom of a distinction that required
+to be vigilantly secured.  He was a very /remarkable/, yet not (perhaps
+could we penetrate all hearts), a very /uncommon/ character--this
+banker!  He had risen from, comparatively speaking, a low origin and
+humble fortunes, and entirely by the scrupulous and sedate propriety of
+his outward conduct.  With such a propriety he, therefore, inseparably
+connected every notion of worldly prosperity and honour.  Thus, though
+far from a bad man, he was forced into being something of a hypocrite.
+Every year he had grown more starch and more saintly.  He was
+conscience-keeper to the whole town; and it is astonishing how many
+persons hardly dared to make a will or subscribe to a charity without
+his advice.  As he was a shrewd man of this world, as well as an
+accredited guide to the next, his advice was precisely of a nature to
+reconcile the Conscience and the Interest; and he was a kind of
+negotiator in the reciprocal diplomacy of earth and heaven.  But our
+banker was really a charitable man, and a benevolent man, and a sincere
+believer.  How, then, was he a hypocrite?  Simply because he professed
+to be far /more/ charitable, /more/ benevolent, and /more/ pious than he
+really was.  His reputation had now arrived to that degree of immaculate
+polish that the smallest breath, which would not have tarnished the
+character of another man, would have fixed an indelible stain upon his.
+As he affected to be more strict than the churchman, and was a great
+oracle with all who regarded churchmen as lukewarm, so his conduct was
+narrowly watched by all the clergy of the orthodox cathedral, good men,
+doubtless, but not affecting to be saints, who were jealous at being so
+luminously outshone by a layman and an authority of the sectarians.  On
+the other hand, the intense homage and almost worship he received from
+his followers kept his goodness upon a stretch, if not beyond all human
+power, certainly beyond his own.  For "admiration" (as it is well said
+somewhere) "is a kind of superstition which expects miracles."  From
+nature this gentleman had received an inordinate share of animal
+propensities: he had strong passions, he was by temperament a
+sensualist.  He loved good eating and good wine--he loved women.  The
+two former blessings of the carnal life are not incompatible with
+canonisation; but St. Anthony has shown that women, however angelic, are
+not precisely that order of angels that saints may safely commune with.
+If, therefore, he ever yielded to temptations of a sexual nature, it was
+with profound secrecy and caution; nor did his right hand know what his
+left hand did.
+
+This gentleman had married a woman much older than himself, but her
+fortune had been one of the necessary stepping-stones in his career.
+His exemplary conduct towards this lady, ugly as well as old, had done
+much towards increasing the odour of his sanctity.  She died of an ague,
+and the widower did not shock probabilities by affecting too severe a
+grief.
+
+"The Lord's will be done!" said he; "she was a good woman, but we should
+not set our affections too much upon His perishable creatures!"
+
+This was all he was ever heard to say on the matter.  He took an elderly
+gentlewoman, distantly related to him, to manage his house, and sit at
+the head of the table; and it was thought not impossible, though the
+widower was past fifty, that he might marry again.
+
+Such was the gentleman called in by Mrs. Leslie, who, of the same
+religious opinions, had long known and revered him, to decide the
+affairs of Alice and of Conscience.
+
+As this man exercised no slight or fugitive influence over Alice
+Darvil's destinies, his counsels on the point in discussion ought to be
+fairly related.
+
+"And now," said Mrs. Leslie, concluding the history, "you will perceive,
+my dear sir, that this poor young creature has been less culpable than
+she appears.  From the extraordinary proficiency she has made in music,
+in a time that, by her own account, seems incredibly short; I should
+suspect her unprincipled betrayer must have been an artist--a
+professional man.  It is just possible that they may meet again, and (as
+the ranks between them cannot be so very disproportionate) that he may
+marry her.  I am sure that he could not do a better or a wiser thing,
+for she loves him too fondly, despite her wrongs.  Under these
+circumstances, would it be a--a--a culpable disguise of truth to
+represent her as a married woman--separated from her husband--and give
+her the name of her seducer?  Without such a precaution you will see,
+sir, that all hope of settling her reputably in life--all chance of
+procuring her any creditable independence, is out of the question.  Such
+is my dilemma.  What is your advice?--palatable or not, I shall abide by
+it."
+
+The banker's grave and saturnine countenance exhibited a slight degree
+of embarrassment at the case submitted to him.  He began brushing away,
+with the cuff of his black coat, some atoms of dust that had settled on
+his drab small-clothes; and, after a slight pause, he replied, "Why,
+really, dear madam, the question is one of much delicacy--I doubt if men
+could be good judges upon it; your sex's tact and instinct on these
+matters are better--much better than our sagacity.  There is much in the
+dictates of your own heart; for to those who are in the grace of the
+Lord He vouchsafes to communicate His pleasure by spiritual hints and
+inward suggestions!"
+
+"If so, my dear sir, the matter is decided; for my heart whispers me
+that this slight deviation from truth would be a less culpable offence
+than turning so young and, I had almost said, so innocent a creature
+adrift upon the world.  I may take your opinion as my sanction."
+
+"Why, really, I can scarcely say so much as that," said the banker, with
+a slight smile.  "A deviation from truth cannot be incurred without some
+forfeiture of strict duty."
+
+"Not in any case?  Alas, I was afraid so!" said Mrs. Leslie,
+despondingly.
+
+"In any case!  Oh, there /may/ be cases!  But had I not better see the
+young woman, and ascertain that your benevolent heart has not deceived
+you?"
+
+"I wish you would," said Mrs. Leslie; "she is now in the house.  I will
+ring for her."
+
+"Should we not be alone?"
+
+"Certainly; I will leave you together."
+
+Alice was sent for, and appeared.
+
+"This pious gentleman," said Mrs. Leslie, "will confer with you for a
+few moments, my child.  Do not be afraid; he is the best of men."  With
+these words of encouragement the good lady vanished, and Alice saw
+before her a tall dark man, with a head bald in front, yet larger behind
+than before, with spectacles upon a pair of shrewd, penetrating eyes,
+and an outline of countenance that showed he must have been handsome in
+earlier manhood.
+
+"My young friend," said the banker, seating himself, after a deliberate
+survey of the fair countenance that blushed beneath his gaze, "Mrs.
+Leslie and myself have been conferring upon your temporal welfare.  You
+have been unfortunate, my child."
+
+"Ah--yes."
+
+"Well, well, you are very young; we must not be too severe upon youth.
+You will never do so again?"
+
+"Do what, please you, sir?"
+
+"What!  Humph!  I mean that you will be more rigid, more circumspect.
+Men are deceitful; you must be on your guard against them.  You are
+handsome, child, very handsome--more's the pity."  And the banker took
+Alice's hand and pressed it with great unction.  Alice looked at him
+gravely and drew the hand away instinctively.
+
+The banker lowered his spectacles, and gazed at her without their aid;
+his eyes were still fine and expressive.  "What is your name?" he asked.
+
+"Alice--Alice Darvil, sir."
+
+"Well, Alice, we have been considering what is best for you.  You wish
+to earn your own livelihood, and perhaps marry some honest man
+hereafter."
+
+"Marry, sir--never!" said Alice, with great earnestness, her eyes
+filling with tears.
+
+"And why?"
+
+"Because I shall never see /him/ on earth, and they do not marry in
+heaven, sir."
+
+The banker was moved, for he was not worse than his neighbours, though
+trying to make them believe he was so much better.
+
+"Well, time enough to talk of that; but in the meanwhile you would
+support yourself?"
+
+"Yes, sir.  His child ought to be a burden to none--nor I either.  I
+once wished to die, but then who would love my little one?  Now I wish
+to live."
+
+"But what mode of livelihood would you prefer?  Would you go into a
+family, in some capacity?--not that of a servant--you are too delicate
+for that."
+
+"Oh, no--no!"
+
+"But, again, why?" asked the banker, soothingly, yet surprised.
+
+"Because," said Alice, almost solemnly, "there are some hours when I
+feel I must be alone.  I sometimes think I am not all right /here/," and
+she touched her forehead.  "They called me an idiot before I knew
+/him/!--No, I could not live with others, for I can only cry when nobody
+but my child is with me."
+
+This was said with such unconscious, and therefore with such pathetic,
+simplicity, that the banker was sensibly affected.  He rose, stirred the
+fire, resettled himself, and, after a pause, said emphatically: "Alice,
+I will be your friend.  Let me believe you will deserve it."
+
+Alice bent her graceful head, and seeing that he had sunk into an
+abstracted silence, she thought it time for her to withdraw.
+
+"She is, indeed,  beautiful," said the banker,  almost aloud, when he
+was alone; "and the old lady is right--she is as innocent as if she had
+not fallen.  I wonder--" Here he stopped short, and walked to the glass
+over the mantelpiece, where he was still gazing on his own features,
+when Mrs. Leslie returned.
+
+"Well, sir," said she, a little surprised at this seeming vanity in so
+pious a man.
+
+The banker started.  "Madam, I honour your penetration as much as your
+charity; I think that there is so much to be feared in letting all the
+world know this young female's past error, that, though I dare not
+advise, I cannot blame, your concealment of it."
+
+"But, sir, your words have sunk deep into my thoughts; you said every
+deviation from truth was a forfeiture of duty."
+
+"Certainly; but there are some exceptions.  The world is a bad world, we
+are born in sin; and the children of wrath.  We do not tell infants all
+the truth, when they ask us questions, the proper answers of which would
+mislead, not enlighten them.  In some things the whole world are
+infants.  The very science of government is the science of concealing
+truth--so is the system of trade.  We could not blame the tradesman for
+not telling the public that if all his debts were called in he would be
+a bankrupt."
+
+"And he may marry her after all--this Mr. Butler."
+
+"Heaven forbid--the villain!--Well, madam, I will see to this poor young
+thing--she shall not want a guide."
+
+"Heaven reward you!  How wicked some people are to call you severe!"
+
+"I can bear /that/ blame with a meek temper, madam.  Good day."
+
+"Good day.  You will remember how strictly confidential has been our
+conversation."
+
+"Not a breath shall transpire.  I will send you some tracts
+to-morrow--so comforting.  Heaven bless you!"
+
+This difficulty smoothed, Mrs. Leslie, to her astonishment, found that
+she had another to contend with in Alice herself.  For, first, Alice
+conceived that to change her name and keep her secret was to confess
+that she ought to be ashamed, rather than proud, of her love to Ernest,
+and she thought that so ungrateful to him!--and, secondly, to take his
+name, to pass for his wife--what presumption--he would certainly have a
+right to be offended!  At these scruples Mrs. Leslie well-nigh lost all
+patience; and the banker, to his own surprise, was again called in.  We
+have said that he was an experienced and skilful adviser, which implies
+the faculty of persuasion.  He soon saw the handle by which Alice's
+obstinacy might always be moved--her little girl's welfare.  He put this
+so forcibly before her eyes; he represented the child's future fate as
+resting so much, not only on her own good conduct, but on her outward
+respectability, that he prevailed upon her at last; and, perhaps, one
+argument that he incidentally used, had as much effect on her as the
+rest.  "This Mr. Butler, if yet in England, may pass through our
+town--may visit amongst us--may hear you spoken of by a name similar to
+his own, and curiosity would thus induce him to seek you.  Take his
+name, and you will always bear an honourable index to your mutual
+discovery and recognition.  Besides, when you are respectable, honoured,
+and earning an independence, he may not be too proud to marry you.  But
+take your own name, avow your own history, and not only will your child
+be an outcast, yourself a beggar, or, at best, a menial dependant, but
+you lose every hope of recovering the object of your too-devoted
+attachment."
+
+Thus Alice was convinced.  From that time she became close and reserved
+in her communications.  Mrs. Leslie had wisely selected a town
+sufficiently remote from her own abode to preclude any revelations of
+her domestics; and, as Mrs. Butler, Alice attracted universal sympathy
+and respect from the exercise of her talents, the modest sweetness of
+her manners, the unblemished propriety of her conduct. Somehow or other,
+no sooner did she learn the philosophy of concealment than she made a
+great leap in knowledge of the world.  And, though flattered and courted
+by the young loungers of C------, she steered her course with so much
+address that she was never persecuted.  For there are few men in the
+world who make advances where there is no encouragement.
+
+The banker observed her conduct with silent vigilance.  He met her
+often, he visited her often.  He was intimate at houses where she
+attended to teach or perform.  He lent her good books--he advised
+her--he preached to her.  Alice began to look up to him--to like him--to
+consider him as a village girl in Catholic countries may consider a
+benevolent and kindly priest.  And he--what was his object?--at that
+time it is impossible to guess:--he became thoughtful and abstracted.
+
+One day an old maid and an old clergyman met in the High Street of
+C------.
+
+"And how do you do, ma'am?" said the clergyman; "how is the rheumatism?"
+
+"Better, thank you, sir.  Any news?"
+
+The clergyman smiled, and something hovered on his lips, which he
+suppressed.
+
+"Were you," the old maid resumed, "at Mrs. Macnab's last night?
+Charming music?"
+
+"Charming!  How pretty that Mrs. Butler is! and how humble!  Knows her
+station--so unlike professional people."
+
+"Yes, indeed!--What attention a certain banker paid her!"
+
+"He! he! he! yes; he is very fatherly--very!"
+
+"Perhaps he will marry again; he is always talking of the holy state of
+matrimony--a holy state it may be--but Heaven knows, his wife, poor
+woman, did not make it a pleasant one."
+
+"There may be more causes for that than we guess of," said the
+clergyman, mysteriously.  "I would not be uncharitable, but--"
+
+"But what?"
+
+"Oh, when he was young, our great man was not so correct, I fancy, as he
+is now."
+
+"So I have heard it whispered; but nothing against him was ever known."
+
+"Hem--it is very odd!"
+
+"What's very odd?"
+
+"Why, but it's a secret--I dare say it's all very right."
+
+"Oh, I sha'n't say a word.  Are you going to the cathedral?--don't let
+me keep you standing.  Now, pray proceed!"
+
+"Well, then, yesterday I was doing duty in a village more than twenty
+miles hence, and I loitered in the village to take an early dinner; and,
+afterwards, while my horse was feeding, I strolled down the green."
+
+"Well--well?"
+
+"And I saw a gentleman muffled carefully up, with his hat slouched over
+his face, at the door of a cottage, with a little child in his arms, and
+he kissed it more fondly than, be we ever so good, we generally kiss
+other people's children; and then he gave it to a peasant woman standing
+near him, and mounted his horse, which was tied to the gate, and trotted
+past me; and who do you think this was?"
+
+"Patience me--I can't guess!"
+
+"Why, our saintly banker.  I bowed to him, and I assure you he turned as
+red, ma'am, as your waistband."
+
+"My!"
+
+"I just turned into the cottage when he was out of sight, for I was
+thirsty, and asked for a glass of water, and I saw the child.  I declare
+I would not be uncharitable, but I thought it monstrous like--you know
+whom!"
+
+"Gracious! you don't say--"
+
+"I asked the woman 'if it was hers?' and she said 'No,' but was very
+short."
+
+"Dear me, I must find this out!  What is the name of the village?"
+
+"Covedale."
+
+"Oh, I know--I know."
+
+"Not a word of this; I dare say there is nothing in it.  But I am not
+much in favour of your new lights."
+
+"Nor I neither.  What better than the good old Church of England?"
+
+"Madam, your sentiments do you honour; you'll be sure not to say
+anything of our little mystery."
+
+"Not a syllable."
+
+Two days after this three old maids made an excursion to the village of
+Covedale, and lo! the cottage in question was shut up--the woman and the
+child were gone.  The people in the village knew nothing about them--had
+seen nothing particular in the woman or child--had always supposed them
+mother and daughter; and the gentleman identified by the clerical
+inquisitor with the banker had never but once been observed in the
+place.
+
+"The vile old parson," said the eldest of the old maids, "to take away
+so good a man's character!--and the fly will cost one pound two, with
+the baiting!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+  "In this disposition was I, when looking out of my window one
+   day to take the air, I perceived a kind of peasant who looked
+   at me very attentively."--GIL BLAS.
+
+A SUMMER'S evening in a retired country town has something melancholy in
+it.  You have the streets of a metropolis without their animated
+bustle--you have the stillness of the country without its birds and
+flowers.  The reader will please to bring before him a quiet street in
+the quiet country town of C------, in a quiet evening in quiet June; the
+picture is not mirthful--two young dogs are playing in the street, one
+old dog is watching by a newly-painted door.  A few ladies of middle age
+move noiselessly along the pavement, returning home to tea: they wear
+white muslin dresses, green spencers a little faded, straw poke bonnets
+with green or coffee-coloured gauze veils.  By twos and threes they have
+disappeared within the thresholds of small neat houses, with little
+railings, inclosing little green plots.  Threshold, house, railing, and
+plot, each as like to the other as are those small commodities called
+"nest-tables," which, "even as a broken mirror multiplies," summon to
+the bewildered eye countless iterations of one four-legged individual.
+Paradise Place was a set of nest houses.
+
+A cow had passed through the streets with a milkwoman behind; two young
+and gay shopmen "looking after the gals," had reconnoitred the street,
+and vanished in despair.  The twilight advanced--but gently; and though
+a star or two were up, the air was still clear.  At the open window of
+one of the tenements in this street sat Alice Darvil.  She had been
+working (that pretty excuse to women for thinking), and as the thoughts
+grew upon her, and the evening waned, the work had fallen upon her knee,
+and her hands dropped mechanically on her lap.  Her profile was turned
+towards the street; but without moving her head or changing her
+attitude, her eyes glanced from time to time to her little girl, who
+nestled on the ground beside her, tired with play; and wondering,
+perhaps, why she was not already in bed, seemed as tranquil as the young
+mother herself.  And sometimes Alice's eyes filled with tears--and then
+she sighed, as if to sigh the tears away.  But poor Alice, if she
+grieved, hers was now a silent and a patient grief.
+
+The street was deserted of all other passengers, when a man passed along
+the pavement on the side opposite to Alice's house.  His garb was rude
+and homely, between that of a labourer and a farmer; but still there was
+an affectation of tawdry show about the bright scarlet handkerchief,
+tied, in a sailor or smuggler fashion, round the sinewy throat; the hat
+was set jauntily on one side, and, dangling many an inch from the
+gaily-striped waistcoat, glittered a watch-chain and seals, which
+appeared suspiciously out of character with the rest of his attire.  The
+passenger was covered with dust; and as the street was in a suburb
+communicating with the high-road, and formed one of the entrances into
+the town, he had probably, after long day's journey, reached his
+evening's destination. The looks of this stranger wore anxious,
+restless, and perturbed.  In his gait and swagger there was the
+recklessness of the professional blackguard; but in his vigilant,
+prying, suspicious eyes there was a hang-dog expression of apprehension
+and fear.  He seemed a man upon whom Crime had set its significant
+mark--and who saw a purse with one eye and a gibbet with the other.
+Alice did not note the stranger, until she herself had attracted and
+centred all his attention.  He halted abruptly as he caught a view of
+her face--shaded his eyes with his hands as if to gaze more
+intently--and at length burst into an exclamation of surprise and
+pleasure.  At that instant Alice turned, and her gaze met that of the
+stranger.  The fascination of the basilisk can scarcely more stun and
+paralyse its victim than the look of this stranger charmed, with the
+appalling glamoury of horror, the eye and soul of Alice Darvil.  Her
+face became suddenly locked and rigid, her lips as white as marble, her
+eyes almost started from their sockets--she pressed her hands
+convulsively together, and shuddered--but still she did not move.  The
+man nodded, and grinned, and then, deliberately crossing the street,
+gained the door, and knocked loudly.  Still Alice did not stir--her
+senses seemed to have forsaken her.  Presently the stranger's loud,
+rough voice was heard below, in answer to the accents of the solitary
+woman-servant whom Alice kept in her employ; and his strong, heavy tread
+made the slight staircase creak and tremble.  Then Alice rose as by an
+instinct, caught her child in her arms, and stood erect and motionless
+facing the door.  It opened--and the FATHER and DAUGHTER were once more
+face to face within the same walls.
+
+"Well, Alley, how are you, my blowen?--glad to see your old dad again,
+I'll be sworn.  No ceremony, sit down.  Ha, ha! snug here--very snug--we
+shall live together charmingly.  Trade on your own account--eh?
+sly!--well, can't desert your poor old father.  Let's have something to
+eat and drink."
+
+So saying, Darvil threw himself at length upon the neat, prim little
+chintz sofa, with the air of a man resolved to make himself perfectly at
+home.
+
+Alice gazed, and trembled violently, but still said nothing--the power
+of voice had indeed left her.
+
+"Come, why don't you stir your stumps?  I suppose I must wait on
+myself--fine manners!--But, ho, ho--a bell, by gosh--mighty grand--never
+mind--I am used to call for my own wants."
+
+A hearty tug at the frail bell-rope sent a shrill alarum half-way
+through the long lath-and-plaster row of Paradise Place, and left the
+instrument of the sound in the hand of its creator.
+
+Up came the maid-servant, a formal old woman, most respectable.
+
+"Hark ye, old girl!" said Darvil; "bring up the best you have to
+eat--not particular--let there be plenty.  And I say--a bottle of
+brandy.  Come, don't stand there staring like a stuck pig.  Budge!  Hell
+and furies! don't you hear me?"
+
+The servant retreated, as if a pistol had been put to her head, and
+Darvil, laughing loud, threw himself again upon the sofa.  Alice looked
+at him, and, still without saying a word, glided from the room--her
+child in her arms.  She hurried down-stairs, and in the hall met her
+servant.  The latter, who was much attached to her mistress, was alarmed
+to see her about to leave the house.
+
+"Why, marm, where be you going?  Dear heart, you have no bonnet on!
+What is the matter?  Who is this?"
+
+"Oh!" cried Alice, in agony; "what shall I do?--where shall I fly?"  The
+door above opened.  Alice heard, started, and the next moment was in the
+street.  She ran on breathlessly, and like one insane.  Her mind was,
+indeed, for the time, gone; and had a river flowed before her way, she
+would have plunged into an escape from a world that seemed too narrow to
+hold a father and his child.
+
+But just as she turned the corner of a street that led into the more
+public thoroughfares, she felt her arm grasped, and a voice called out
+her name in surprised and startled accents.
+
+"Heavens, Mrs. Butler!  Alice!  What do I see?  What is the matter?"
+
+"Oh, sir, save me!--you are a good man--a great man--save me--he is
+returned!"
+
+"He! who?  Mr. Butler?" said the banker (for that gentleman it was) in a
+changed and trembling voice.
+
+"No, no--ah, not he!--I did not say /he/--I said my father--my,
+my--ah--look behind--look behind--is he coming?"
+
+"Calm yourself, my dear young friend--no one is near.  I will go and
+reason with your father.  No one shall harm you--I will protect you.  Go
+back--go back, I will follow--we must not be seen together."  And the
+tall banker seemed trying to shrink into a nutshell.
+
+"No, no," said Alice, growing yet paler, "I cannot go back."
+
+"Well, then, just follow me to the door--your servant shall get you your
+bonnet, and accompany you to my house, where you can wait till I return.
+Meanwhile I will see your father, and rid you, I trust, of his
+presence."
+
+The banker, who spoke in a very hurried and even impatient voice, waited
+for no reply, but took his way to Alice's house.  Alice herself did not
+follow, but remained in the very place where she was left, till joined
+by her servant, who then conducted her to the rich man's residence. . .
+But Alice's mind had not recovered its shock, and her thoughts
+wandered alarmingly.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+  "/Miramont./--Do they chafe roundly?
+   /Andrew./--As they were rubbed with soap, sir,
+   And now they swear aloud, now calm again
+   Like a ring of bells, whose sound the wind still utters,
+   And then they sit in council what to do,
+   And then they jar again what shall be done?"
+     BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
+
+OH! what a picture of human nature it was when the banker and the
+vagabond sat together in that little drawing-room, facing each
+other,--one in the armchair, one on the sofa!  Darvil was still employed
+on some cold meat, and was making wry faces at the very indifferent
+brandy which he had frightened the formal old servant into buying at the
+nearest public-house; and opposite sat the respectable--highly
+respectable man of forms and ceremonies, of decencies and quackeries,
+gazing gravely upon this low, daredevil ruffian:--the well-to-do
+hypocrite--the penniless villain;--the man who had everything to
+lose--the man who had nothing in the wide world but his own mischievous,
+rascally life, a gold watch, chain and seals, which he had stolen the
+day before, and thirteen shillings and threepence halfpenny in his left
+breeches pocket!
+
+The man of wealth was by no means well acquainted with the nature of the
+beast before him.  He had heard from Mrs. Leslie (as we remember) the
+outline of Alice's history, and ascertained that their joint
+/protegee's/ father was a great blackguard; but he expected to find Mr.
+Darvil a mere dull, brutish villain--a peasant-ruffian--a blunt serf,
+without brains, or their substitute, effrontery.  But Luke Darvil was a
+clever, half-educated fellow: he did not sin from ignorance, but had wit
+enough to have bad principles, and he was as impudent as if he had lived
+all his life in the best society.  He was not frightened at the banker's
+drab breeches and imposing air--not he!  The Duke of Wellington would
+not have frightened Luke Darvil, unless his grace had had the constables
+for his /aides-de-camp/.
+
+The banker, to use a homely phrase, was "taken aback."
+
+"Look you here, Mr. What's-your-name!" said Darvil, swallowing a glass
+of the raw alcohol as if it had been water--"look you now--you can't
+humbug me.  What the devil do you care about my daughter's
+respectability or comfort, or anything else, grave old dog as you are!
+It is my daughter herself you are licking your brown old chaps at!--and,
+'faith, my Alley is a very pretty girl--very--but queer as moonshine.
+You'll drive a much better bargain with me than with her."
+
+The banker coloured scarlet--he bit his lips and measured his companion
+from head to foot (while the latter lolled on the sofa), as if he were
+meditating the possibility of kicking him down-stairs.  But Luke Darvil
+would have thrashed the banker and all his clerks into the bargain.  His
+frame was like a trunk of thews and muscles, packed up by that careful
+dame, Nature, as tightly as possible; and a prizefighter would have
+thought twice before he had entered the ring against so awkward a
+customer.  The banker was a man prudent to a fault, and he pushed his
+chair six inches back, as he concluded his survey.
+
+"Sir," then said he, very quietly, "do not let us misunderstand each
+other.  Your daughter is safe from your control--if you molest her, the
+law will protect--"
+
+"She is not of age," said Darvil.  "Your health, old boy."
+
+"Whether she is of age or not," returned the banker, unheeding the
+courtesy conveyed in the last sentence, "I do not care three straws--I
+know enough of the law to know that if she have rich friends in this
+town, and you have none, she will be protected and you will go to the
+treadmill."
+
+"That is spoken like a sensible man," said Darvil, for the first time
+with a show of respect in his manner; "you now take a practical view of
+matters, as we used to say at the spouting-club."
+
+"If I were in your situation, Mr. Darvil, I tell you what I would do.  I
+would leave my daughter and this town to-morrow morning, and I would
+promise never to return, and never to molest her, on condition she
+allowed me a certain sum from her earnings, paid quarterly."
+
+"And if I preferred living with her?"
+
+"In that case, I, as a magistrate of this town, would have you sent away
+as a vagrant, or apprehended--"
+
+"Ha!"
+
+"Apprehended on suspicion of stealing that gold chain and seals which
+you wear so ostentatiously."
+
+"By goles, but you're a clever fellow," said Darvil, involuntarily; "you
+know human natur."
+
+The banker smiled: strange to say, he was pleased with the compliment.
+
+"But," resumed Darvil, helping himself to another slice of beef, "you
+are in the wrong box--planted in Queer Street, as /we/ say in London;
+for if you care a d--n about my daughter's respectability, you will
+never muzzle her father on suspicion of theft--and so there's tit for
+tat, my old gentleman!"
+
+"I shall deny that you are her father, Mr. Darvil; and I think you will
+find it hard to prove the fact in any town where I am a magistrate."
+
+"By goles, what a good prig you would have made!  You are as sharp as a
+gimlet.  Surely you were brought up at the Old Bailey!"
+
+"Mr. Darvil, be ruled.  You seem a man not deaf to reason, and I ask you
+whether, in any town in this country, a poor man in suspicious
+circumstances can do anything against a rich man whose character is
+established?  Perhaps you are right in the main: I have nothing to do
+with that.  But I tell you that you shall quit this house in half an
+hour--that you shall never enter it again but at your peril; and if you
+do--within ten minutes from that time you shall be in the town gaol.  It
+is no longer a contest between you and your defenceless daughter; it is
+a contest between--"
+
+"A tramper in fustian, and a gemman as drives a coach," interrupted
+Darvil, laughing bitterly, yet heartily.  "Good--good!"
+
+The banker rose.  "I think you have made a very clever definition,"
+said he.  "Half an hour--you recollect--good evening."
+
+"Stay," said Darvil; "you are the first man I have seen for many a year
+that I can take a fancy to.  Sit down--sit down, I say, and talk a bit,
+and we shall come to terms soon, I dare say;--that's right.  Lord! how I
+should like to have you on the roadside instead of within these four
+gimcrack walls.  Ha! ha! the argufying would be all in my favour then."
+
+The banker was not a brave man, and his colour changed slightly at the
+intimation of this obliging wish.  Darvil eyed him grimly and
+chucklingly.
+
+The rich man resumed: "That may or may not be, Mr. Darvil, according as
+I might happen or not to have pistols about me.  But to the point.  Quit
+this house without further debate, without noise, without mentioning to
+any one else your claim upon its owner--"
+
+"Well, and the return?"
+
+"Ten guineas now, and the same sum quarterly, as long as the young lady
+lives in this town, and you never persecute her by word or letter."
+
+"That is forty guineas a year.  I can't live upon it."
+
+"You will cost less in the House of Correction, Mr. Darvil."
+
+"Come, make it a hundred: Alley is cheap at that."
+
+"Not a farthing more," said the banker, buttoning up his breeches
+pockets with a determined air.
+
+"Well, out with the shiners."
+
+"Do you promise or not?"
+
+"I promise."
+
+"There are your ten guineas.  If in half an hour you are not gone--why,
+then--"
+
+"Then?"
+
+"Why, then you have robbed me of ten guineas, and must take the usual
+consequences of robbery."
+
+Darvil started to his feet--his eyes glared--he grasped the
+carving-knife before him.
+
+"You are a bold fellow," said the banker, quietly; "but it won't do.  It
+is not worth your while to murder me; and I am a man sure to be missed."
+
+Darvil sank down, sullen and foiled.  The respectable man was more than
+a match for the villain.
+
+"Had you been as poor as I,--Gad! what a rogue you would have been!"
+
+"I think not," said the banker; "I believe roguery to be a very bad
+policy.  Perhaps once I /was/ almost as poor as you are, but I never
+turned rogue."
+
+"You never were in my circumstances," returned Darvil, gloomily.  "I was
+a gentleman's son.  Come, you shall hear my story.  My father was
+well-born, but married a maid-servant when he was at college; his family
+disowned him, and left him to starve.  He died in the struggle against a
+poverty he was not brought up to, and my dam went into service again;
+became housekeeper to an old bachelor--sent me to school--but mother had
+a family by the old bachelor, and I was taken from school and put to
+trade.  All hated me--for I was ugly; damn them!  Mother cut me--I
+wanted money--robbed the old bachelor--was sent to gaol, and learned
+there a lesson or two how to rob better in future.  Mother died,--I was
+adrift on the world.  The world was my foe--could not make it up with
+the world, so we went to war;--you understand, old boy?  Married a poor
+woman and pretty;--wife made me jealous--had learned to suspect every
+one.  Alice born--did not believe her mine: not like me--perhaps a
+gentleman's child. I hate--I loathe gentlemen.  Got drunk one
+night--kicked my wife in the stomach three weeks after her confinement.
+Wife died--tried for my life--got off.  Went to another county--having
+had a sort of education, and being sharp eno', got work as a mechanic.
+Hated work just as I hated gentlemen--for was I not by blood a
+gentleman?  There was the curse.  Alice grew up; never looked on her as
+my flesh and blood.  Her mother was a w----!  Why should not /she/ be
+one?  There, that's enough.  Plenty of excuse, I think, for all I have
+ever done.  Curse the world--curse the rich--curse the handsome--curse
+--curse all!"
+
+"You have been a very foolish man," said the banker; "and seem to me to
+have had very good cards, if you had known how to play them.  However,
+that is your lookout.  It is not yet too late to repent; age is creeping
+on you.--Man, there is another world."
+
+The banker said the last words with a tone of solemn and even dignified
+adjuration.
+
+"You think so--do you?" said Darvil, staring at him.
+
+"From my soul I do."
+
+"Then you are not the sensible man I took you for," replied Darvil,
+drily; "and I should like to talk to you on that subject."
+
+But our Dives, however sincere a believer, was by no means one
+
+               "At whose control
+   Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul."
+
+He had words of comfort for the pious, but he had none for the
+sceptic--he could soothe, but he could not convert.  It was not in his
+way; besides, he saw no credit in making a convert of Luke Darvil.
+Accordingly, he again rose with some quickness, and said:
+
+"No, sir; that is useless, I fear, and I have no time to spare; and so
+once more good night to you."
+
+"But you have not arranged where my allowance is to be sent."
+
+"Ah! true; I will guarantee it.  You will find my name sufficient
+security."
+
+"At least, it is the best I can get," returned Darvil, carelessly; "and
+after all, it is not a bad chance day's work.  But I'm sure I can't say
+where the money shall be sent.  I don't know a man who would not grab
+it."
+
+"Very well, then--the best thing (I speak as a man of business) will be
+to draw on me for ten guineas quarterly.  Wherever you are staying, any
+banker can effect this for you.  But mind, if ever you overdraw the
+account stops."
+
+"I understand," said Darvil; "and when I have finished the bottle I
+shall be off."
+
+"You had better," replied the banker, as he opened the door.
+
+The rich man returned home hurriedly.  "So Alice, after all, has some
+gentle blood in her veins," thought he.  "But that father--no, it will
+never do.  I wish he were hanged and nobody the wiser.  I should very
+much like to arrange the matter without marrying; but then --scandal--scandal--scandal.  After all, I had better give up all
+thoughts of her.  She is monstrous handsome, and so--humph:--I shall
+never grow an old man."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+  "Began to bend down his admiring eyes
+   On all her touching looks and qualities,
+   Turning their shapely sweetness every way
+   Till 'twas his food and habit day by day."
+     LEIGH HUNT.
+
+THERE must have been a secret something about Alice Darvil singularly
+captivating, that (associated as she was with images of the most sordid
+and the vilest crimes) left her still pure and lovely alike in the eyes
+of a man as fastidious as Ernest Maltravers, and of a man as influenced
+by all the thoughts and theories of the world as the shrewd banker of
+C------.  Amidst things foul and hateful had sprung up this beautiful
+flower, as if to preserve the inherent heavenliness and grace of human
+nature, and proclaim the handiwork of God in scenes where human nature
+had been most debased by the abuses of social art; and where the light
+of God Himself was most darkened and obscured.  That such contrasts,
+though rarely and as by chance, are found, every one who has carefully
+examined the wastes and deserts of life must own.  I have drawn Alice
+Darvil scrupulously from life, and I can declare that I have not
+exaggerated hue or lineament in the portrait.  I do not suppose, with
+our good banker, that she owed anything, unless it might be a greater
+delicacy of form and feature, to whatever mixture of gentle blood was in
+her veins.  But, somehow or other, in her original conformation there
+was the happy bias of the plantes towards the Pure and the Bright.  For,
+despite Helvetius, a common experience teaches us that though education
+and circumstances may mould the mass, Nature herself sometimes forms the
+individual, and throws into the clay, or its spirit, so much of beauty
+or deformity, that nothing can utterly subdue the original elements of
+character.  From sweets one draws poison--from poisons another extracts
+but sweets.  But I, often deeply pondering over the psychological
+history of Alice Darvil, think that one principal cause why she escaped
+the early contaminations around her was in the slow and protracted
+development of her intellectual faculties.  Whether or not the brutal
+violence of her father had in childhood acted through the nerves upon
+the brain, certain it is that until she knew Maltravers--until she
+loved--till she was cherished--her mind had seemed torpid and locked up.
+True, Darvil had taught her nothing, nor permitted her to be taught
+anything; but that mere ignorance would have been no preservation to a
+quick, observant mind.  It was the bluntness of the senses themselves
+that operated tike an armour between her mind and the vile things around
+her.  It was the rough, dull covering of the chrysalis, framed to bear
+rude contact and biting weather, that the butterfly might break forth,
+winged and glorious, in due season. Had Alice been a quick child, Alice
+would have probably grown up a depraved and dissolute woman; but she
+comprehended, she understood little or nothing, till she found an
+inspirer in that affection which inspires both beast and man; which
+makes the dog (in his natural state one of the meanest of the savage
+race) a companion, a guardian, a protector, and raises Instinct half-way
+to the height of Reason.
+
+The banker had a strong regard for Alice; and when he reached home, he
+heard with great pain that she was in a high state of fever.  She
+remained beneath his roof that night, and the elderly gentlewoman, his
+relation and /gouvernante/, attended her.  The banker slept but little;
+and the next morning his countenance was unusually pale.  Towards
+daybreak Alice had fallen into a sound and refreshing sleep; and when,
+on waking, she found, by a note from her host, that her father had left
+her house, and she might return in safety and without fear, a violent
+flood of tears, followed by long and grateful prayer, contributed to the
+restoration of her mind and nerves.  Imperfect as this young woman's
+notions of abstract right and wrong still were, she was yet sensible to
+the claims of a father (no matter how criminal) upon his child: for
+feelings with her were so good and true, that they supplied in a great
+measure the place of principles.  She knew that she could not have lived
+under the same roof with her dreadful parent; but she still felt an
+uneasy remorse at thinking he had been driven from that roof in
+destitution and want.  She hastened to dress herself and seek an
+audience with her protector; and the latter found with admiration and
+pleasure that he had anticipated her own instantaneous and involuntary
+design in the settlement made upon Darvil.  He then communicated to
+Alice the compact he had already formed with her father, and she wept
+and kissed his hand when she heard, and secretly resolved that she would
+work hard to be enabled to increase the sum allowed.  Oh, if her labours
+could serve to retrieve a parent from the necessity of darker resources
+for support!  Alas! when crime has become a custom, it is like gaming or
+drinking--the excitement is wanting; and had Luke Darvil been suddenly
+made inheritor of the wealth of a Rothschild, he would either still have
+been a villain in one way or the other; or /ennui/ would have awakened
+conscience, and he would have died of the change of habit.
+
+Our banker always seemed more struck by Alice's moral feelings than even
+by her physical beauty.  Her love for her child, for instance, impressed
+him powerfully, and he always gazed upon her with softer eyes when he
+saw her caressing or nursing the little fatherless creature, whose
+health was now delicate and precarious.  It is difficult to say whether
+he was absolutely in love with Alice; the phrase is too strong, perhaps,
+to be applied to a man past fifty, who had gone through emotions and
+trials enough to wear away freshness from his heart.  His feelings
+altogether for Alice, the designs he entertained towards her, were of a
+very complicated nature; and it will be long, perhaps, before the reader
+can thoroughly comprehend them.  He conducted Alice home that day; but
+he said little by the way, perhaps because his female relation, for
+appearance' sake, accompanied them also.  He, however, briefly cautioned
+Alice on no account to communicate to any one that it was her father who
+had been her visitor; and she still shuddered too much at the
+reminiscence to appear likely to converse on it.  The banker also judged
+it advisable to be so far confidential with Alice's servant as to take
+her aside, and tell her that the inauspicious stranger of the previous
+evening had been a very distant relation of Mrs. Butler, who, from a
+habit of drunkenness, had fallen into evil and disorderly courses.  The
+banker added with a sanctified air that he trusted, by a little serious
+conversation, he had led the poor man to better notions, and that he had
+gone home with an altered mind to his family.  "But, my good Hannah," he
+concluded, "you know you are a superior person, and above the vulgar sin
+of indiscriminate gossip; therefore, mention what has occurred to no
+one; it can do no good to Mrs. Butler--it may hurt the man himself, who
+is well-to-do--better off than he seems; and who, I hope, with grace,
+may be a sincere penitent; and it will also--but that is nothing--very
+seriously displease me.  By the by, Hannah, I shall be able to get your
+grandson into the Free School."
+
+The banker was shrewd enough to perceive that he had carried his point;
+and he was walking home, satisfied, on the whole, with the way matters
+had been arranged, when he was met by a brother magistrate.
+
+"Ha!" said the latter, "and how are you, my good sir?  Do you know that
+we have had the Bow Street officers here, in search of a notorious
+villain who has broken from prison?  He is one of the most determined
+and dexterous burglars in all England, and the runners have hunted him
+into our town.  His very robberies have tracked him by the way.  He
+robbed a gentleman the day before yesterday of his watch, and left him
+for dead on the road--this was not thirty miles hence."
+
+"Bless me!" said the banker, with emotion; "and what is the wretch's
+name?"
+
+"Why, he has as many aliases as a Spanish grandee; but I believe the
+last name he has assumed is Peter Watts."
+
+"Oh!" said our friend, relieved,--"well, have the runners found him?"
+
+"No, but they are on his scent.  A fellow answering to his description
+was seen by the man at the toll-bar, at daybreak this morning, on the
+way to F------; the officers are after him."
+
+"I hope he may meet with his deserts--and crime is never unpunished even
+in this world.  My best compliments to your lady:--and how is little
+Jack?--Well! glad to hear it--fine boy, little Jack! good day."
+
+"Good day, my dear sir.  Worthy man, that!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+  "But who is this? thought he, a demon vile.
+   With wicked meaning and a vulgar style;
+   Hammond they call him--they can give the name
+   Of man to devils.  Why am I so tame?
+   Why crush I not the viper?  Fear replied,
+   Watch him a while, and let his strength be tried."
+     CRABBE.
+
+THE next morning, after breakfast, the banker took his horse--a
+crop-eared, fast-trotting hackney--and merely leaving word that he was
+going upon business into the country, and should not return to dinner,
+turned his back on the spires of C------.
+
+He rode slowly, for the day was hot.  The face of the country, which was
+fair and smiling, might have tempted others to linger by the way; but
+our hard and practical man of the world was more influenced by the
+weather than the loveliness of the scenery.  He did not look upon Nature
+with the eye of imagination; perhaps a railroad, had it then and there
+existed, would have pleased him better than the hanging woods, the
+shadowy valleys, and the changeful river that from time to time
+beautified the landscape on either side the road.  But, after all, there
+is a vast deal of hypocrisy in the affected admiration for Nature;--and
+I don't think one person in a hundred cares for what lies by the side of
+a road, so long as the road itself is good, hills levelled, and
+turnpikes cheap.
+
+It was midnoon, and many miles had been passed, when the banker turned
+down a green lane and quickened his pace.  At the end of about
+three-quarters of an hour, he arrived at a little solitary inn, called
+"The Angler,"--put up his horse, ordered his dinner at six
+o'clock--begged to borrow a basket to hold his fish--and it was then
+apparent that a longish cane he had carried with him was capable of
+being extended into a fishing-rod.  He fitted in the various joints with
+care, as if to be sure no accident had happened to the implement by the
+journey--pried anxiously into the contents of a black case of lines and
+flies--slung the basket behind his back, and while his horse was putting
+down his nose and whisking about his tail, in the course of those
+nameless coquetries that horses carry on with hostlers--our worthy
+brother of the rod strode rapidly through some green fields, gained the
+riverside, and began fishing with much semblance of earnest interest in
+the sport.  He had caught one trout, seemingly by accident--for the
+astonished fish was hooked up on the outside of its jaw--probably while
+in the act, not of biting, but of gazing at, the bait, when he grew
+discontented with the spot he had selected; and, after looking round as
+if to convince himself that he was not liable to be disturbed or
+observed (a thought hateful to the fishing fraternity), he stole quickly
+along the margin, and finally quitting the riverside altogether, struck
+into a path that, after a sharp walk of nearly all hour, brought him to
+the door of a cottage.  He knocked twice, and then entered of his own
+accord--nor was it till the summer sun was near its decline that the
+banker regained his inn.  His simple dinner, which they had delayed in
+wonder at the protracted absence of the angler, and in expectation of
+the fishes he was to bring back to be fried, was soon despatched; his
+horse was ordered to the door, and the red clouds in the west already
+betokened the lapse of another day, as he spurred from the spot on the
+fast-trotting hackney, fourteen miles an hour.
+
+"That 'ere gemman has a nice bit of blood," said the hostler, scratching
+his ear.
+
+"Oiy,--who be he?" said a hanger-on of the stables.
+
+"I dooan't know.  He has been here twice afoar, and he never cautches
+anything to sinnify--he be mighty fond of fishing, surely."
+
+Meanwhile, away sped the banker--milestone on milestone glided by--and
+still, scarce turning a hair, trotted gallantly out the good hackney.
+But the evening grew darker, and it began to rain; a drizzling,
+persevering rain, that wets a man through ere he is aware of it.  After
+his fiftieth year, a gentleman who has a tender regard for himself does
+not like to get wet; and the rain inspired the banker, who was subject
+to rheumatism, with the resolution to take a short cut along the fields.
+There were one or two low hedges by this short way, but the banker had
+been there in the spring, and knew every inch of the ground.  The
+hackney leaped easily--and the rider had a tolerably practised seat--and
+two miles saved might just prevent the menaced rheumatism: accordingly,
+our friend opened a white gate, and scoured along the fields without any
+misgivings as to the prudence of his choice.  He arrived at his first
+leap--there was the hedge, its summit just discernible in the dim light.
+On the other side, to the right was a haystack, and close by this
+haystack seemed the most eligible place for clearing the obstacle.  Now
+since the banker had visited this place, a deep ditch, that served as a
+drain, had been dug at the opposite base of the hedge, of which neither
+horse nor man was aware, so that the leap was far more perilous than was
+anticipated.  Unconscious of this additional obstacle, the rider set off
+in a canter.  The banker was high in air, his loins bent back, his rein
+slackened, his right hand raised knowingly--when the horse took fright
+at an object crouched by the haystack--swerved, plunged midway into the
+ditch, and pitched its rider two or three yards over its head.  The
+banker recovered himself sooner than might have been expected; and,
+finding himself, though bruised and shaken, still whole and sound,
+hastened to his horse.  But the poor animal had not fared so well as its
+master, and its off-shoulder was either put out or dreadfully sprained.
+It had scrambled its way out of the ditch, and there it stood
+disconsolate by the hedge, as lame as one of the trees that, at
+irregular intervals, broke the symmetry of the barrier.  On ascertaining
+the extent of his misfortune, the banker became seriously uneasy; the
+rain increased--he was several miles yet from home--he was in the midst
+of houseless fields, with another leap before him--the leap he had just
+passed behind--and no other egress that he knew of into the main road.
+While these thoughts passed through his brain, he became suddenly aware
+that he was not alone.  The dark object that had frightened his horse
+rose slowly from the snug corner it had occupied by the haystack, and a
+gruff voice that made the banker thrill to the marrow of his bones,
+cried, "Holla, who the devil are you?"
+
+Lame as his horse was, the banker instantly put his foot into the
+stirrup; but before he could mount, a heavy gripe was laid on his
+shoulder--and turning round with as much fierceness as he could assume,
+he saw--what the tone of the voice had already led him to forebode--the
+ill-omened and cut-throat features of Luke Darvil.
+
+"Ha! ha! my old annuitant, my clever feelosofer--jolly old boy--how are
+you?--give us a fist.  Who would have thought to meet you on a rainy
+night, by a lone haystack, with a deep ditch on one side, and no
+chimney-pot within sight?  Why, old fellow, I, Luke Darvil,--I, the
+vagabond--I whom you would have sent to the treadmill for being poor,
+and calling on my own daughter--I am as rich as you are here--and as
+great, and as strong, and as powerful."
+
+And while he spoke, Darvil, who was really an undersized man, seemed to
+swell and dilate, till he appeared half a head taller than the shrinking
+banker, who was five feet eleven inches without his shoes.
+
+"E-hem!" said the rich man, clearing his throat, which seemed to him
+uncommonly husky; "I do not know whether I insulted your poverty, my
+dear Mr. Darvil--I hope not; but this is hardly a time for talking--pray
+let me mount, and--"
+
+"Not a time for talking!" interrupted Darvil angrily; "it's just the
+time to my mind: let me consider,--ay, I told you that whenever we met
+by the roadside it would be my turn to have the best of the argufying."
+
+"I dare say--I dare say, my good fellow."
+
+"Fellow not me!--I won't be fellowed now.  I say I have the best of it
+here--man to man--I am your match."
+
+But why quarrel with me?" said the banker, coaxingly; "I never meant you
+harm, and I am sure you cannot mean me harm."
+
+"No!--and why?" asked Darvil, coolly;--" why do you think I can mean you
+no harm?"
+
+"Because your annuity depends on me."
+
+"Shrewdly put--we'll argufy that point.  My life is a bad one, not worth
+more than a year's purchase; now, suppose you have more than forty
+pounds about you--it may be better worth my while to draw my knife
+across your gullet than to wait for the quarter-day's ten pounds a time.
+You see it's all a matter of calculation, my dear, Mr. What's-your-name!"
+
+"But," replied the banker, and his teeth began to chatter, "I have not
+forty pounds about me."
+
+"How do I know that?--you say so.  Well, in the town yonder your word
+goes for more than mine; I never gainsaid you when you put that to me,
+did I?  But here, by the haystack, my word is better than yours; and if
+I say you must and shall have forty pounds about you, let's see whether
+you dare contradict me."
+
+"Look you, Darvil," said the banker, summoning up all his energy and
+intellect, for his moral power began now to back his physical cowardice,
+and he spoke calmly, and even bravely, though his heart throbbed aloud
+against his breast, and you might have knocked him down with a
+feather--"the London runners are even now hot after you."
+
+"Ha!--you lie!"
+
+"Upon my honour I speak the truth; I heard the news last evening.  They
+tracked you to C------; they tracked you out of the town; a word from me
+would have given you into their hands.  I said nothing--you are
+safe--you may yet escape.  I will even help you to fly the country, and
+live out your natural date of years, secure and in peace."
+
+"You did not say that the other day in the snug drawing-room; you see I
+have the best of it now--own that."
+
+"I do," said the banker.
+
+Darvil chuckled, and rubbed his hands.
+
+The man of wealth once more felt his importance, and went on.  "This is
+one side of the question.  On the other, suppose you rob and murder me,
+do you think my death will lessen the heat of the pursuit against you?
+The whole country will be in arms, and before forty-eight hours are over
+you will be hunted down like a mad dog."
+
+Darvil was silent, as if in thought; and after a pause, replied: "Well,
+you are a 'cute one after all.  What have you got about you? you know
+you drove a hard bargain the other day--now it's my market--fustian has
+riz--kersey has fell."
+
+"All I have about me shall be yours," said the banker, eagerly.
+
+"Give it me, then."
+
+"There!" said the banker, placing his purse and pocketbook into Darvil's
+bands.
+
+"And the watch?"
+
+"The watch?--well there!"
+
+"What's that?"
+
+The banker's senses were sharpened by fear, but they were not so sharp
+as those of Darvil; he heard nothing but the rain pattering on the
+leaves, and the rush of water in the ditch at hand.  Darvil stooped and
+listened--till, raising himself again, with a deep-drawn breath, he
+said, "I think there are rats in the haystack; they will be running over
+me in my sleep; but they are playful creturs, and I like 'em.  And now,
+my /dear/ sir, I am afraid I must put an end to you!"
+
+"Good Heavens, what do you mean?  How?"
+
+"Man, there is another world!" quoth the ruffian, mimicking the banker's
+solemn tone in their former interview.  "So much the better for you!  In
+that world they don't tell tales."
+
+"I swear I will never betray you."
+
+"You do?--swear it, then."
+
+"By all my hopes of earth and heaven!"
+
+"What a d-----d coward you be!" said Darvil, laughing scornfully.
+"Go--you are safe.  I am in good humour with myself again.  I crow over
+you, for no man can make me tremble.  And villain as you think me, while
+you fear me you cannot despise--you respect me.  Go, I say--go."
+
+The banker was about to obey, when suddenly, from the haystack, a broad,
+red light streamed upon the pair, and the next moment Darvil was seized
+from behind, and struggling in the gripe of a man nearly as powerful as
+himself.  The light, which came from a dark-lanthorn, placed on the
+ground, revealed the forms of a peasant in a smock-frock, and two
+stout-built, stalwart men, armed with pistols--besides the one engaged
+with Darvil.
+
+The whole of this scene was brought as by the trick of the stage--
+as by a flash of lightning--as by the change of a showman's
+phantasmagoria--before the astonished eyes of the banker.  He stood
+arrested and spell-bound, his hand on his bridle, his foot on his
+stirrup.  A moment more and Darvil had clashed his antagonist on the
+ground; he stood at a little distance, his face reddened by the glare of
+the lanthorn and fronting his assailants--that fiercest of all beasts, a
+desperate man at bay!  He had already succeeded in drawing forth his
+pistols, and he held one in each hand--his eyes flashing from beneath
+his bent brows and turning quickly from foe to foe!  At last those
+terrible eyes rested on the late reluctant companion of his solitude.
+
+"So /you/ then betrayed me," he said, very slowly, and directed his
+pistol to the head of the dismounted horseman.
+
+"No, no!" cried one of the officers, for such were Darvil's assailants;
+"fire away in this direction, my hearty--we're paid for it.  The
+gentleman knew nothing at all about it."
+
+"Nothing, by G--!" cried the banker, startled out of his sanctity.
+
+"Then I shall keep my shot," said Darvil; "and mind, the first who
+approaches me is a dead man."
+
+It so happened that the robber and the officers were beyond the distance
+which allows sure mark for a pistol-shot, and each party felt the
+necessity of caution.
+
+"Your time is up, my swell cove!" cried the head of the detachment; "you
+have had your swing, and a long one it seems to have been--you must now
+give in.  Throw down your barkers, or we must make mutton of you, and
+rob the gallows."
+
+Darvil did not reply, and the officers, accustomed to hold life cheap,
+moved on towards him--their pistols cocked and levelled.
+
+Darvil fired--one of the men staggered and fell.  With a kind of
+instinct Darvil had singled out the one with whom he had before wrestled
+for life.  The ruffian waited not for the others--he turned and fled
+along the fields.
+
+"Zounds, he is off!" cried the other two, and they rushed after him in
+pursuit.  A pause--a shot--another--an oath--a groan--and all was still.
+
+"It's all up with him now," said one of the runners, in the distance;
+"he dies game."
+
+At these words, the peasant, who had before skulked behind the haystack,
+seized the lanthorn from the ground, and ran to the spot.  The banker
+involuntarily followed.
+
+There lay Luke Darvil on the grass--still living, but a horrible and
+ghastly spectacle.  One ball had pierced his breast, another had shot
+away his jaw.  His eyes rolled fearfully, and he tore up the grass with
+his hands.
+
+The officers looked coldly on.  "He was a clever fellow!" said one.
+
+"And has given us much trouble," said the other; "let us see to Will."
+
+"But he's not dead yet," said the banker, shuddering.
+
+"Sir, he cannot live a minute."
+
+Darvil raised himself bolt upright--shook his clenched fist at his
+conquerors, and a fearful gurgling howl, which the nature of his wounds
+did not allow him to syllable into a curse, came from his breast--with
+that he fell flat on his back--a corpse.
+
+"I am afraid, sir," said the elder officer, turning away, you had a
+narrow escape--but how came you here?"
+
+"Rather, how came /you/ here?"
+
+"Honest Hodge there, with the lanthorn, had marked the fellow skulk
+behind the haystack, when he himself was going out to snare rabbits.  He
+had seen our advertisement of Watts' person, and knew that we were then
+at a public house some miles off.  He came to us--conducted us to the
+spot--we heard voices--showed up the glim--and saw our man.  Hodge, you
+are a good subject, and love justice."
+
+"Yees, but I shall have the rewourd," said Hodge, showing his teeth.
+
+"Talk o' that by and by," said the officer.  "Will, how are you, man?"
+
+"Bad," groaned the poor runner, and a rush of blood from the lips
+followed the groan.
+
+It was many days before the ex-member for C------ sufficiently recovered
+the tone of his mind to think further of Alice; when he did, it was with
+great satisfaction that he reflected that Darvil was no more, and that
+the deceased ruffian was only known to the neighbourhood by the name of
+Peter Watts.
+
+
+
+BOOK V.
+
+PARODY.
+
+   My hero, turned author, lies mute in this section,
+   You may pass by the place if you're bored by reflection:
+   But if honest enough to be fond of the Muse,
+   Stay, and read where you're able, and sleep where you choose.
+     THEOC. /Epig. in Hippon/.
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+               "My genius spreads her wing,
+   And flies where Britain courts the western spring.
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+   Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,
+   I see the lords of human kind pass by,
+   Intent on high designs."-GOLDSMITH.
+
+I HAVE no respect for the Englishman who re-enters London after long
+residence abroad without a pulse that beats quick and a heart that
+heaves high.  The public buildings are few, and, for the most part,
+mean; the monuments of antiquity not comparable to those which the
+pettiest town in Italy can boast of; the palaces are sad rubbish; the
+houses of our peers and princes are shabby and shapeless heaps of brick.
+But what of all this? the spirit of London is in her thoroughfares--her
+population!  What wealth--what cleanliness--what order--what animation!
+How majestic, and yet how vivid, is the life that runs through her
+myriad veins!  How, as the lamps blaze upon you at night, and street
+after street glides by your wheels, each so regular in its symmetry, so
+equal in its civilization--how all speak of the CITY OF FREEMEN.
+
+Yes, Maltravers felt his heart swell within him as the post-horses
+whirled on his dingy carriage--over Westminster Bridge--along
+Whitehall--through Regent Street--towards one of the quiet and
+private-house-like hotels that are scattered round the neighbourhood of
+Grosvenor Square.
+
+Ernest's arrival had been expected.  He had written from Paris to
+Cleveland to announce it; and Cleveland had, in reply, informed him that
+he had engaged apartments for him at Mivart's.  The smiling waiters
+ushered him into a spacious and well-aired room--the armchair was
+already wheeled by the fire--a score or so of letters strewed the table,
+together with two of the evening papers.  And how eloquently of busy
+England do those evening papers speak!  A stranger might have felt that
+he wanted no friend to welcome him--the whole room smiled on him a
+welcome.
+
+Maltravers ordered his dinner and opened his letters: they were of no
+importance; one from his steward, one from his banker, another about the
+county races, a fourth from a man he had never heard of, requesting the
+vote and powerful interest of Mr. Maltravers for the county of B------,
+should the rumour of a dissolution be verified; the unknown candidate
+referred Mr. Maltravers to his "well-known public character."  From
+these epistles Ernest turned impatiently, and perceived a little
+three-cornered note which had hitherto escaped his attention.  It was
+from Cleveland, intimating that he was in town; that his health still
+precluded his going out, but that he trusted to see his dear Ernest as
+soon as he arrived.
+
+Maltravers was delighted at the prospect of passing his evening so
+agreeably; he soon despatched his dinner and his newspapers, and walked
+in the brilliant lamplight of a clear frosty evening of early December
+in London, to his friend's house in Curzon Street: a small house,
+bachelor-like and unpretending; for Cleveland spent his moderate though
+easy fortune almost entirely at his country villa.  The familiar face of
+the old valet greeted Ernest at the door, and he only paused to hear
+that his guardian was nearly recovered to his usual health, ere he was
+in the cheerful drawing-room, and--since Englishmen do not
+embrace--returning the cordial gripe of the kindly Cleveland.
+
+"Well, my dear Ernest," said Cleveland, after they had gone through the
+preliminary round of questions and answers, "here you are at last:
+Heaven be praised; and how well you are looking--how much you are
+improved!  It is an excellent period of the year for your /debut/ in
+London.  I shall have time to make you intimate with people before the
+whirl of 'the season' commences."
+
+"Why, I thought of going to Burleigh, my country-place.  I have not seen
+it since I was a child."
+
+"No, no! you have had solitude enough at Como, if I may trust to your
+letter; you must now mix with the great London world; and you will enjoy
+Burleigh the more in the summer."
+
+"I fancy this great London world will give me very little pleasure; it
+may be pleasant enough to young men just let loose from college, but
+your crowded ball-rooms and monotonous clubs will be wearisome to one
+who has grown fastidious before his time.  /J'ai vecu beaucoup dans peu
+d'annees.  I have drawn in youth too much upon the capital of existence
+to be highly delighted with the ostentatious parsimony with which our
+great men economise pleasure."
+
+"Don't judge before you have gone through the trial," said Cleveland:
+"there is something in the opulent splendour, the thoroughly sustained
+magnificence, with which the leaders of English fashion conduct even the
+most insipid amusements, that is above contempt.  Besides, you need not
+necessarily live with the butterflies.  There are plenty of bees that
+will be very happy to make your acquaintance.  Add to this, my dear
+Ernest, the pleasure of being made of--of being of importance in your
+own country.  For you are young, well-born, and sufficiently handsome to
+be an object of interest to mothers and to daughters; while your name,
+and property, and interest, will make you courted by men who want to
+borrow your money and obtain your influence in your county.  No,
+Maltravers, stay in London--amuse yourself your first year, and decide
+on your occupation and career the next; but reconnoitre before you give
+battle."
+
+Maltravers was not ill-pleased to follow his friend's advice, since by
+so doing he obtained his friend's guidance and society.  Moreover, he
+deemed it wise and rational to see, face to face, the eminent men in
+England, with whom, if he fulfilled his promise to De Montaigne, he was
+to run the race of honourable rivalry.  Accordingly, he consented to
+Cleveland's propositions.
+
+"And have you," said he, hesitating, as he loitered by the door after
+the stroke of twelve had warned him to take his leave--"have you never
+heard anything of my--my--the unfortunate Alice Darvil?"
+
+"Who?--Oh, that poor young woman; I remember!--not a syllable."
+
+Maltravers sighed deeply and departed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+  "Je trouve que c'est une folie de vouloir etudier le monde en
+   simple spectateur. * * * Dans l'ecole du monde, comme dans
+   cette de l'amour, il faut commencer par pratiquer cc qu'on veut
+   apprendre."*--ROUSSEAU.
+
+* I find that it is a folly to wish to study the world like a simple
+spectator. * * * In the school of the world, as in that of love, it is
+necessary to begin by practising what we wish to learn.
+
+ERNEST MALTRAVERS was now fairly launched upon the wide ocean of London.
+Amongst his other property was a house in Seamore Place--that quiet, yet
+central street, which enjoys the air without the dust of the park.  It
+had been hitherto let, and, the tenant now quitting very opportunely,
+Maltravers was delighted to secure so pleasant a residence: for he was
+still romantic enough to desire to look out upon trees and verdure
+rather than brick houses.  He indulged only in two other luxuries: his
+love of music tempted him to an opera-box, and he had that English
+feeling which prides itself in the possession of beautiful horses,--a
+feeling that enticed him into an extravagance on this head that baffled
+the competition and excited the envy of much richer men.  But four
+thousand a year goes a great way with a single man who does not gamble,
+and is too philosophical to make superfluities wants.
+
+The world doubled his income, magnified his old country-seat into a
+superb chateau, and discovered that his elder brother, who was only
+three or four years older than himself, had no children.  The world was
+very courteous to Ernest Maltravers.
+
+It was, as Cleveland said, just at that time of year when people are at
+leisure to make new acquaintances.  A few only of the most difficult
+houses in town were open; and their doors were cheerfully expanded to
+the accomplished ward of the popular Cleveland.  Authors and statesmen,
+and orators, and philosophers--to all he was presented;--all seemed
+pleased with him, and Ernest became the fashion before he was conscious
+of the distinction.  But he had rightly foreboded.  He had commenced
+life too soon; he was disappointed; he found some persons he could
+admire, some whom he could like, but none with whom he could grow
+intimate, or for whom he could feel an interest.  Neither his heart nor
+his imagination was touched; all appeared to him like artificial
+machines; he was discontented with things like life, but in which
+something or other was wanting.  He more than ever recalled the
+brilliant graces of Valerie de Ventadour, which had thrown a charm over
+the most frivolous circles; he even missed the perverse and fantastic
+vanity of Castruccio.  The mediocre poet seemed to him at least less
+mediocre than the worldlings about him.  Nay, even the selfish good
+spirits and dry shrewdness of Lumley Ferrers would have been an
+acceptable change to the dull polish and unrevealed egotism of jealous
+wits and party politicians.  "If these are the flowers of the parterre,
+what must be the weeds?" said Maltravers to himself, returning from a
+party at which he had met half a score of the most orthodox lions.
+
+He began to feel the aching pain of satiety.
+
+But the winter glided away--the season commenced, and Maltravers was
+whirled on with the rest into the bubbling vortex.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+  "And crowds commencing mere vexation,
+   Retirement sent its invitation."--SHENSTONE.
+
+THE tench, no doubt, considers the pond in which he lives as the Great
+World.  There is no place, however stagnant, which is not the great
+world to the creatures that move about, in it.  People who have lived
+all their lives in a village still talk of the world as if they had ever
+seen it!  An old woman in a hovel does not put her nose out of her door
+on a Sunday without thinking she is going amongst the pomps and vanities
+of the great world.  /Ergo/, the great world is to all of us the little
+circle in which we live.  But as fine people set the fashion, so the
+circle of fine people is called the Great World /par excellence/.  Now
+this great world is not a bad thing when we thoroughly understand it;
+and the London great world is at least as good as any other.  But then
+we scarcely do understand that or anything else in our /beaux
+jours/,--which, if they are sometimes the most exquisite, are also often
+the most melancholy and the most wasted portion of our life.  Maltravers
+had not yet found out either /the set/ that pleased him or the species
+of amusement that really amused. Therefore he drifted on and about the
+vast whirlpool, making plenty of friends--going to balls and
+dinners--and bored with both as men are who have no object in society.
+Now the way society is enjoyed is to have a pursuit, a /metier/ of some
+kind, and then to go into the world, either to make the individual
+object a social pleasure, or to obtain a reprieve from some toilsome
+avocation.  Thus, if you are a politician--politics at once make an
+object in your closet, and a social tie between others and yourself when
+you are in the world.  The same may be said of literature, though in a
+less degree; and though, as fewer persons care about literature than
+politics, your companions must be more select.  If you are very young,
+you are fond of dancing; if you are very profligate, perhaps you are
+fond of flirtations with your friend's wife.  These last are objects in
+their way: but they don't last long, and, even with the most frivolous,
+are not occupations that satisfy the whole mind and heart, in which
+there is generally an aspiration after something useful.  It is not
+vanity alone that makes a man of the /mode/ invent a new bit or give his
+name to a new kind of carriage; it is the influence of that mystic
+yearning after utility, which is one of the master-ties between the
+individual and the species.
+
+Maltravers was not happy--that is a lot common enough; but he was not
+amused--and that is a sentence more insupportable.  He lost a great part
+of his sympathy with Cleveland, for, when a man is not amused, he feels
+an involuntary contempt for those who are.  He fancies they are pleased
+with trifles which his superior wisdom is compelled to disdain.
+Cleveland was of that age when we generally grow social--for by being
+rubbed long and often against the great loadstone of society, we obtain,
+in a thousand little minute points, an attraction in common with our
+fellows.  Their petty sorrows and small joys--their objects of interest
+or employment, at some time or other have been ours.  We gather up a
+vast collection of moral and mental farthings of exchange: and we
+scarcely find any intellect too poor, but what we can deal with it in
+some way.  But in youth, we are egotists and sentimentalists, and
+Maltravers belonged to the fraternity who employ
+
+     "The heart in passion and the head in rhymes."
+
+At length--just when London begins to grow most pleasant--when
+flirtations become tender, and water-parties numerous--when birds sing
+in the groves of Richmond, and whitebait refresh the statesman by the
+shores of Greenwich,--Maltravers abruptly fled from the gay metropolis,
+and arrived, one lovely evening in July, at his own ivy-grown porch of
+Burleigh.
+
+What a soft, fresh, delicious evening it was!  He had quitted his
+carriage at the lodge, and followed it across the small but picturesque
+park alone and on foot.  He had not seen the place since childhood--he
+had quite forgotten its aspect.  He now wondered how he could have lived
+anywhere else.  The trees did not stand in stately avenues, nor did the
+antlers of the deer wave above the sombre fern; it was not the domain of
+a grand seigneur, but of an old, long-descended English squire.
+Antiquity spoke in the moss-grown palings in the shadowy groves, in the
+sharp gable-ends and heavy mullions of the house, as it now came in
+view, at the base of a hill covered with wood--and partially veiled by
+the shrubs of the neglected pleasure-ground, separated from the park by
+the invisible ha-ha.  There, gleamed in the twilight the watery face of
+the oblong fish-pool, with its old-fashioned willows at each
+corner--there, grey and quaint, was the monastic dial--and there was the
+long terrace walk, with discoloured and broken vases, now filled with
+the orange or the aloe, which, in honour of his master's arrival, the
+gardener had extracted from the dilapidated green-house.  The very
+evidence of neglect around, the very weeds and grass on the
+half-obliterated road, touched Maltravers with a sort of pitying and
+remorseful affection for his calm and sequestered residence.  And it was
+not with his usual proud step and erect crest that he passed from the
+porch to the solitary library, through a line of his servants:--the two
+or three old retainers belonging to the place were utterly unfamiliar to
+him, and they had no smile for their stranger lord.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+  "/Lucian./  He that is born to be a man neither should nor can
+   be anything nobler, greater, and better than a man.
+
+  "/Peregrine./  But, good Lucian, for the very reason that he may
+   not become less than a man, he should be always striving to be
+   more."--WIELAND'S /Peregrinus Proteus/.
+
+IT was two years from the date of the last chapter before Maltravers
+again appeared in general society.  These two years had sufficed to
+produce a revolution in his fate.  Ernest Maltravers had lost the happy
+rights of the private individual; he had given himself to the Public; he
+had surrendered his name to men's tongues, and was a thing that all had
+a right to praise, to blame, to scrutinise, to spy.  Ernest Maltravers
+had become an author.
+
+Let no man tempt Gods and Columns, without weighing well the
+consequences of his experiment.  He who publishes a book, attended with
+a moderate success, passes a mighty barrier.  He will often look back
+with a sigh of regret at the land he has left for ever.  The beautiful
+and decent obscurity of hearth and home is gone.  He can no longer feel
+the just indignation of manly pride when he finds himself ridiculed or
+reviled.  He has parted with the shadow of his life.  His motives may be
+misrepresented, his character belied; his manners, his person, his
+dress, the "very trick of his walk" are all fair food for the cavil and
+the caricature.  He can never go back, he cannot even pause; he has
+chosen his path, and all the natural feelings that make the nerve and
+muscle of the active being urge him to proceed.  To stop short is to
+fail.  He has told the world that he will make a name; and he must be
+set down as a pretender, or toil on till the boast be fulfilled.  Yet
+Maltravers thought nothing of all this when, intoxicated with his own
+dreams and aspirations, he desired to make a world his confidant; when
+from the living nature, and the lore of books, and the mingled result of
+inward study and external observation, he sought to draw forth something
+that might interweave his name with the pleasurable associations of his
+kind.  His easy fortune and lonely state gave him up to his own thoughts
+and contemplations; they suffused his mind, till it ran over upon the
+page which makes the channel that connects the solitary Fountain with
+the vast Ocean of Human Knowledge.  The temperament of Maltravers was,
+as we have seen, neither irritable nor fearful.  He formed himself, as a
+sculptor forms, with a model before his eyes and an ideal in his heart.
+He endeavoured, with labour and patience, to approach nearer and nearer
+with every effort to the standard of such excellence as he thought might
+ultimately be attained by a reasonable ambition; and when, at last, his
+judgment was satisfied, he surrendered the product with a tranquil
+confidence to a more impartial tribunal.
+
+His first work was successful; perhaps for this reason--that it bore the
+stamp of the Honest and the Real.  He did not sit down to report of what
+he had never seen, to dilate on what he had never felt.  A quiet and
+thoughtful observer of life, his descriptions were the more vivid,
+because his own first impressions were not yet worn away.  His
+experience had sunk deep; not on the arid surface of matured age, but in
+the fresh soil of youthful emotions.  Another reason, perhaps, that
+obtained success for his essay was, that he had more varied and more
+elaborate knowledge than young authors think it necessary to possess.
+He did not, like Cesarini, attempt to make a show of words upon a
+slender capital of ideas.  Whether his style was eloquent or homely; it
+was still in him a faithful transcript of considered and digested
+thought.  A third reason--and I dwell on these points not more to
+elucidate the career of Maltravers than as hints which may be useful to
+others--a third reason why Maltravers obtained a prompt and favourable
+reception from the public was, that he had not hackneyed his
+peculiarities of diction and thought in that worst of all schools for
+the literary novice--the columns of a magazine.  Periodicals form an
+excellent mode of communication between the public and an author
+/already/ established, who has lost the charm of novelty, but gained the
+weight of acknowledged reputation; and who, either upon politics or
+criticism, seeks for frequent and continuous occasions to enforce his
+peculiar theses and doctrines.  But, upon the young writer, this mode of
+communication, if too long continued, operates most injuriously both as
+to his future prospects and his own present taste and style.  With
+respect to the first, it familiarises the public to his mannerism (and
+all writers worth reading have mannerism) in a form to which the said
+public are not inclined to attach much weight.  He forestalls in a few
+months what ought to be the effect of years; namely, the wearying a
+world soon nauseated with the /toujours perdrix/.  With respect to the
+last, it induces a man to write for momentary effects; to study a false
+smartness of style and reasoning; to bound his ambition of durability to
+the last day of the month; to expect immediate returns for labour; to
+recoil at the "hope deferred" of serious works on which judgment is
+slowly formed.  The man of talent who begins young at periodicals, and
+goes on long, has generally something crude and stunted about both his
+compositions and his celebrity.  He grows the oracle of small coteries;
+and we can rarely get out of the impression that he is cockneyfied and
+conventional.  Periodicals sadly mortgaged the claims that Hazlitt, and
+many others of his contemporaries, had upon a vast reversionary estate
+of Fame.  But I here speak too politically; to some the /res angustoe
+domi/ leave no option.  And, as Aristotle and the Greek proverb have it,
+we cannot carve out all things with the knife of the Delphic cutler.
+
+The second work that Maltravers put forth, at an interval of eighteen
+months from the first, was one of a graver and higher nature; it served
+to confirm his reputation: and that is success enough for a second work,
+which is usually an author's "/pons asinorum/."  He who, after a
+triumphant first book, does not dissatisfy the public with a second, has
+a fair chance of gaining a fixed station in literature.  But now
+commenced the pains and perils of the after-birth.  By a maiden effort
+an author rarely makes enemies.  His fellow-writers are not yet prepared
+to consider him as a rival; if he be tolerably rich, they unconsciously
+trust that he will not become a regular, or, as they term it, "a
+professional" author: he did something just to be talked of; he may
+write no more, or his second book may fail.  But when that second book
+comes out, and does not fail, they begin to look about them; envy
+wakens, malice begins.  And all the old school--gentlemen who have
+retired on their pensions of renown--regard him as an intruder: then the
+sneer, then the frown, the caustic irony, the biting review, the
+depreciating praise.  The novice begins to think that he is further from
+the goal than before he set out upon the race.
+
+Maltravers had, upon the whole, a tolerably happy temperament; but he
+was a very proud man, and he had the nice soul of a courageous,
+honourable, punctilious gentleman.  He thought it singular that society
+should call upon him, as a gentleman, to shoot his best friend, if that
+friend affronted him with a rude word; and yet that, as an author, every
+fool and liar might, with perfect impunity, cover reams of paper with
+the most virulent personal abuse of him.
+
+It was one evening in the early summer that, revolving anxious and
+doubtful thoughts, Ernest sauntered gloomily along his terrace,
+
+     "And watched with wistful eyes the setting sun."
+
+when he perceived a dusty travelling carriage whirled along the road by
+the ha-ha, and a hand waved in recognition from the open window.  His
+guests had been so rare, and his friends were so few, that Maltravers
+could not conjecture who was his intended visitant.  His brother, he
+knew, was in London.  Cleveland, from whom he had that day heard, was at
+his villa.  Ferrers was enjoying himself in Vienna.  Who could it be?
+We may say of solitude what we please; but, after two years of solitude,
+a visitor is a pleasurable excitement.  Maltravers retraced his steps,
+entered his house, and was just in time to find himself almost in the
+arms of De Montaigne.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+         "Quid tam dextro pede concipis ut te,
+   Conatus non poeniteat, votique peracti?"*--JUV.
+
+* What, under such happy auspices do you conceive that you may not
+repent of your endeavour and accomplished wish?
+
+"YES," said De Montaigne, "in my way I also am fulfilling my destiny.  I
+am a member of the /Chambre des Deputes/, and on a visit to England upon
+some commercial affairs.  I found myself in your neighbourhood, and, of
+course, could not resist the temptation: so you must receive me as your
+guest for some days."
+
+"I congratulate you cordially on your senatorial honours.  I have
+already heard of your rising name."
+
+"I return the congratulations with equal warmth.  You are bringing my
+prophecies to pass.  I have read your works with increased pride at our
+friendship."
+
+Maltravers sighed slightly, and half turned away.
+
+"The desire of distinction," said he, after a pause, "grows upon us till
+excitement becomes disease.  The child who is born with the mariner's
+instinct laughs with glee when his paper bark skims the wave of a pool.
+By and by nothing will content him but the ship and the ocean.--Like the
+child is the author."
+
+"I am pleased with your simile," said De Montaigne, smiling.  "Do not
+spoil it, but go on with your argument."
+
+Maltravers continued: "Scarcely do we win the applause of a moment, ere
+we summon the past and conjecture the future.  Our contemporaries no
+longer suffice for competitors, our age for the Court to pronounce on
+our claims: we call up the Dead as our only true rivals--we appeal to
+Posterity as our sole just tribunal.  Is this vain in us?  Possibly.
+Yet such vanity humbles.  'Tis then only we learn all the difference
+between Reputation and Fame--between To-Day and Immortality!"
+
+"Do you think," replied De Montaigne, "that the dead did not feel the
+same when they first trod the path that leads to the life beyond life?
+Continue to cultivate the mind, to sharpen by exercise the genius, to
+attempt to delight or to instruct your race; and even supposing you fall
+short of every model you set before you--supposing your name moulder
+with your dust, still yon will have passed life more nobly than the
+unlaborious herd.  Grant that you win not that glorious accident, 'a
+name below,' how can you tell but what you may have fitted yourself for
+high destiny and employ in the world not of men, but of spirits?  The
+powers of the mind are things that cannot be less immortal than the mere
+sense of identity; their acquisitions accompany us through the Eternal
+Progress; and we may obtain a lower or a higher grade hereafter, in
+proportion as we are more or less fitted by the exercise of our
+intellect to comprehend and execute the solemn agencies of God.  The
+wise man is nearer to the angels than the fool is.  This may be an
+apocryphal dogma, but it is not an impossible theory."
+
+"But we may waste the sound enjoyments of actual life in chasing the
+hope you justly allow to be 'apocryphal;' and our knowledge may go for
+nothing in the eyes of the Omniscient."
+
+"Very well," said De Montaigne, smiling; "but answer me honestly.  By
+the pursuits of intellectual ambition do you waste the sound enjoyments
+of life?  If so, you do not pursue the system rightly.  Those pursuits
+ought only to quicken your sense for such pleasures as are the true
+relaxations of life.  And this, with you peculiarly, since you are
+fortunate enough not to depend for subsistence upon literature;--did you
+do so, I might rather advise you to be a trunkmaker than an author.  A
+man ought not to attempt any of the highest walks of Mind and Art, as
+the mere provision of daily bread; not literature alone, but everything
+else of the same degree.  He ought not to be a statesman, or an orator,
+or a philosopher, as a thing of pence and shillings: and usually all
+men, save the poor poet, feel this truth insensibly."
+
+"This may be fine preaching," said Maltravers; "but you may be quite
+sure that the pursuit of literature is a pursuit apart from the ordinary
+objects of life, and you cannot command the enjoyments of both."
+
+"I think otherwise," said De Montaigne; "but it is not in a country
+house eighty miles from the capital, without wife, guests, or friends,
+that the experiment can be fairly made.  Come, Maltravers, I see before
+you a brave career, and I cannot permit you to halt at the onset."
+
+"You do not see all the calumnies that are already put forth against me,
+to say nothing of all the assurances (and many by clever men) that there
+is nothing in me!"
+
+"Dennis was a clever man, and said the same thing of your Pope.  Madame
+de Sevigne was a clever woman, but she thought Racine would never be
+very famous.  Milton saw nothing in the first efforts of Dryden that
+made him consider Dryden better than a rhymester.  Aristophanes was a
+good judge of poetry, yet how ill he judged of Euripides!  But all this
+is commonplace, and yet you bring arguments that a commonplace answers
+in evidence against yourself."
+
+"But it is unpleasant not to answer attacks--not to retaliate on
+enemies."
+
+"Then answer attacks, and retaliate on enemies."
+
+"But would that be wise?"
+
+"If it give you pleasure--it would not please /me/."
+
+"Come, De Montaigne, you are reasoning Socratically.  I will ask you
+plainly and bluntly, would you advise an author to wage war on his
+literary assailants, or to despise them?"
+
+"Both; let him attack but few, and those rarely.  But it is his policy
+to show that he is one whom it is better not to provoke too far.  The
+author always has the world on his side against the critics, if he
+choose his opportunity.  And he must always recollect that he is 'A
+STATE' in himself, which must sometimes go to war in order to procure
+peace.  The time for war or for peace must be left to the State's own
+diplomacy and wisdom."
+
+"You would make us political machines."
+
+"It would make every man's conduct more or less mechanical; for system
+is the triumph of mind over matter; the just equilibrium of all the
+powers and passions may seem like machinery.  Be it so.  Nature meant
+the world--the creation--man himself, for machines."
+
+"And one must even be in a passion mechanically, according to your
+theories."
+
+"A man is a poor creature who is not in a passion sometimes; but a very
+unjust, or a very foolish one, if he be in a passion with the wrong
+person, and in the wrong place and time.  But enough of this, it is
+growing late."
+
+"And when will Madame visit England?"
+
+"Oh, not yet, I fear.  But you will  meet Cesarini in London this year
+or the next.  He is persuaded that you did not see justice done to his
+poems, and is coming here as soon as his indolence will let him, to
+proclaim your treachery in a biting preface to some toothless satire."
+
+"Satire!"
+
+"Yes; more than one of your poets made their way by a satire, and
+Cesarini is persuaded he shall do the same.  Castruccio is not as
+far-sighted as his namesake, the Prince of Lucca.  Good night, my dear
+Ernest."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+  "When with much pains this boasted learning's got,
+   'Tis an affront to those who have it not."
+     CHURCHILL: /The Author/.
+
+THERE was something in De Montaigne's conversation, which, without
+actual flattery, reconciled Maltravers to himself and his career.  It
+served less, perhaps, to excite than to sober and brace his mind.  De
+Montaigne could have made no man rash, but he could have made many men
+energetic and persevering.  The two friends had some points in common;
+but Maltravers had far more prodigality of nature and passion about
+him--had more of flesh and blood, with the faults and excellences of
+flesh and blood.  De Montaigne held so much to his favourite doctrine of
+moral equilibrium, that he had really reduced himself in much to a
+species of clockwork.  As impulses are formed from habits, so the
+regularity of De Montaigne's habits made his impulses virtuous and just,
+and he yielded to them as often as a hasty character might have done;
+but then those impulses never urged to anything speculative or daring.
+De Montaigne could not go beyond a certain defined circle of action.  He
+had no sympathy for any reasonings based purely on the hypotheses of the
+imagination: he could not endure Plato, and he was dumb to the eloquent
+whispers of whatever was refining in poetry or mystical in wisdom.
+
+Maltravers, on the contrary, not disdaining Reason, ever sought to
+assist her by the Imaginative Faculty, and held all philosophy
+incomplete and unsatisfactory that bounded its inquiries to the limits
+of the Known and Certain.  He loved the inductive process; but he
+carried it out to Conjecture as well as Fact.  He maintained that, by a
+similar hardihood, all the triumphs of science, as well as art, had been
+accomplished--that Newton, that Copernicus, would have done nothing if
+they had not imagined as well as reasoned, guessed as well as
+ascertained.  Nay, it was an aphorism with him, that the very soul of
+philosophy is conjecture.  He had the most implicit confidence in the
+operations of the mind and the heart properly formed, and deemed that
+the very excesses of emotion and thought, in men well trained by
+experience and study, are conducive to useful and great ends.  But the
+more advanced years, and the singularly practical character of De
+Montaigne's views, gave him a superiority in argument over Maltravers
+which the last submitted to unwillingly.  While, on the other hand, De
+Montaigne secretly felt that his young friend reasoned from a broader
+base, and took in a much wider circumference; and that he was, at once,
+more liable to failure and error, and more capable of new discovery and
+of intellectual achievement.  But their ways in life being different,
+they did not clash; and De Montaigne, who was sincerely interested in
+Ernest's fate, was contented to harden his friend's mind against the
+obstacles in his way, and leave the rest to experiment and to
+Providence.  They went up to London together: and De Montaigne returned
+to Paris.  Maltravers appeared once more in the haunts of the gay and
+great.  He felt that his new character had greatly altered his position.
+He was no longer courted and caressed for the same vulgar and
+adventitious circumstances of fortune, birth, and connections, as
+before--yet for circumstances that to him seemed equally unflattering.
+He was not sought for his merit, his intellect, his talents; but for his
+momentary celebrity.  He was an author in fashion, and run after as
+anything else in fashion might have been.  He was invited, less to be
+talked to than to be stared at.  He was far too proud in his temper, and
+too pure in his ambition, to feel his vanity elated by sharing the
+enthusiasm of the circles with a German prince or an industrious flea.
+Accordingly he soon repelled the advances made to him, was reserved and
+supercilious to fine ladies, refused to be the fashion, and became very
+unpopular with the literary exclusives.  They even began to run down the
+works, because they were dissatisfied with the author.  But Maltravers
+had based his experiments upon the vast masses of the general Public.
+He had called the PEOPLE of his own and other countries to be his
+audience and his judges; and all the coteries in the world could have
+not injured him.  He was like the member for an immense constituency,
+who may offend individuals, so long as he keep his footing with the body
+at large.  But while he withdrew himself from the insipid and the idle,
+he took care not to become separated from the world.  He formed his own
+society according to his tastes: took pleasure in the manly and exciting
+topics of the day; and sharpened his observation and widened his sphere
+as an author, by mixing freely and boldly with all classes as a citizen.
+But literature became to him as art to the artist--as his mistress to
+the lover--an engrossing and passionate delight.  He made it his
+glorious and divine profession--he loved it as a profession--he devoted
+to its pursuits and honours his youth, cares, dreams--his mind, and his
+heart, and his soul.  He was a silent but intense enthusiast in the
+priesthood he had entered.  From LITERATURE he imagined had come all
+that makes nations enlightened and men humane.  And he loved Literature
+the more, because her distinctions were not those of the world--because
+she had neither ribbands, nor stars, nor high places at her command.  A
+name in the deep gratitude and hereditary delight of men--this was the
+title she bestowed.  Hers was the Great Primitive Church of the world,
+without Popes or Muftis--sinecures, pluralities and hierarchies.  Her
+servants spoke to the earth as the prophets of old, anxious only to be
+heard and believed.  Full of this fanaticism, Ernest Maltravers pursued
+his way in the great procession of the myrtle-bearers to the sacred
+shrine.  He carried the thyrsus, and he believed in the god.  By degrees
+his fanaticism worked in him the philosophy which De Montaigne would
+have derived from sober calculation; it made him indifferent to the
+thorns in the path, to the storms in the sky.  He learned to despise the
+enmity he provoked, the calumnies that assailed him.  Sometimes he was
+silent, but sometimes he retorted.  Like a soldier who serves a cause,
+he believed that when the cause was injured in his person, the weapons
+confided to his hands might be wielded without fear and without
+reproach.  Gradually he became feared as well as known.  And while many
+abused him, none could contemn.
+
+It would not suit the design of this work to follow Maltravers step by
+step in his course.  I am only describing the principal events, not the
+minute details, of his intellectual life.  Of the character of his works
+it will be enough to say that, whatever their faults, they were
+original--they were his own.  He did not write according to copy, nor
+compile from commonplace books.  He was an artist, it is true,--for what
+is genius itself but art? but he took laws, and harmony, and order, from
+the great code of Truth and Nature: a code that demands intense and
+unrelaxing study--though its first principles are few and simple: that
+study Maltravers did not shrink from.  It was a deep love of truth that
+made him a subtle and searching analyst, even in what the dull world
+considers trifles; for he knew that nothing in literature is in itself
+trifling--that it is often but a hairsbreadth that divides a truism from
+a discovery.  He was the more original, because he sought rather after
+the True than the New.  No two minds are ever the same; and therefore
+any man who will give us fairly and frankly the results of his own
+impressions, uninfluenced by the servilities of imitation, will be
+original.  But it was not from originality, which really made his
+predominant merit, that Maltravers derived his reputation, for his
+originality was not of that species which generally dazzles the
+vulgar--it was not extravagant nor /bizarre/--he affected no system and
+no school.  Many authors of his day seemed more novel and /unique/ to
+the superficial.  Profound and durable invention proceeds by subtle and
+fine gradations--it has nothing to do with those jerks and starts, those
+convulsions and distortions, which belong not to the vigour and health,
+but to the epilepsy and disease, of Literature.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+  "Being got out of town, the first thing I did was to give my
+   mule her head."--/Gil Blas/.
+
+ALTHOUGH the character of Maltravers was gradually becoming more hard
+and severe,--although as his reason grew more muscular, his imagination
+lost something of its early bloom, and he was already very different
+from the wild boy who had set the German youths in a blaze, and had
+changed into a Castle of Indolence the little cottage tenanted with
+Poetry and Alice,--he still preserved many of his old habits; he loved,
+at frequent intervals, to disappear from the great world--to get rid of
+books and friends, and luxury and wealth, and make solitary excursions,
+sometimes on foot, sometimes on horseback, through this fair garden of
+England.
+
+It was one soft May-day that he found himself on such an expedition,
+slowly riding through one of the green lanes of ------shire.  His cloak
+and his saddle-bags comprised all his baggage, and the world was before
+him "where to choose his place of rest."  The lane wound at length into
+the main road, and just as he came upon it he fell in with a gay party
+of equestrians.
+
+Foremost of its cavalcade rode a lady in a dark green habit, mounted on
+a thoroughbred English horse, which she managed with so easy a grace
+that Maltravers halted in involuntary admiration.  He himself was a
+consummate horseman, and he had the quick eye of sympathy for those who
+shared the accomplishment.  He thought, as he gazed, that he had never
+seen but one woman whose air and mien on horseback were so full of that
+nameless elegance which skill and courage in any art naturally
+bestow--that woman was Valerie de Ventadour.  Presently, to his great
+surprise, the lady advanced from her companions, neared Maltravers, and
+said, in a voice which he did not at first distinctly recognise--" Is it
+possible?--do I see Mr. Maltravers?"
+
+She paused a moment, and then threw aside her veil, and Ernest
+beheld--Madame de Ventadour!  By this time a tall, thin gentleman had
+joined the Frenchwoman.
+
+"Has /madame/ met with an acquaintance?" said he; "and, if so, will she
+permit me to partake her pleasure?"
+
+The interruption seemed a relief to Valerie;--she smiled and coloured.
+
+"Let me introduce you to Mr. Maltravers.  Mr. Maltravers, this is my
+host, Lord Doningdale."
+
+The two gentlemen bowed, the rest of the cavalcade surrounded the trio,
+and Lord Doningdale, with a stately yet frank courtesy, invited
+Maltravers to return with the party to his house, which was about four
+miles distant.  As may be supposed, Ernest readily accepted the
+invitation.  The cavalcade proceeded, and Maltravers hastened to seek an
+explanation from Valerie.  It was soon given.  Madame de Ventadour had a
+younger sister, who had lately married a son of Lord Doningdale.  The
+marriage had been solemnized in Paris, and Monsieur and Madame de
+Ventadour had been in England a week on a visit to the English peer.
+
+The /rencontre/ was so sudden and unexpected that neither recovered
+sufficient self-possession for fluent conversation.  The explanation
+given, Valerie sank into a thoughtful silence, and Maltravers rode by
+her side equally taciturn, pondering on the strange chance which, after
+the lapse of years, had thrown them again together.
+
+Lord Doningdale, who at first lingered with his other visitors, now
+joined them, and Maltravers was struck with his high-bred manner, and a
+singular and somewhat elaborate polish in his emphasis and expression.
+They soon entered a noble park, which attested far more care and
+attention than are usually bestowed upon those demesnes, so peculiarly
+English.  Young plantations everywhere contrasted the venerable
+groves--new cottages of picturesque design adorned the outskirts--and
+obelisks and columns, copied from the antique, and evidently of recent
+workmanship, gleamed upon them as they neared the house--a large pile,
+in which the fashion of Queen Anne's day had been altered into the
+French roofs and windows of the architecture of the Tuileries.  "You
+reside much in the country, I am sure, my lord," said Maltravers.
+
+"Yes," replied Lord Doningdale, with a pensive air, "this place is
+greatly endeared to me.  Here his Majesty Louis XVIII., when in England,
+honoured me with an annual visit.  In compliment to him, I sought to
+model my poor mansion into an humble likeness of his own palace, so that
+he might as little as possible miss the rights he had lost.  His own
+rooms were furnished exactly like those he had occupied at the
+Tuileries.  Yes, the place is endeared to me--I think of the old times
+with pride.  It is something to have sheltered a Bourbon in his
+misfortunes."
+
+"It cost /milord/ a vast sum to make these alterations," said Madame de
+Ventadour, glancing archly at Maltravers.
+
+"Ah, yes," said the old lord; and his face, lately elated, became
+overcast--"nearly three hundred thousand pounds: but what then?--'Les
+souvenirs, madame, sont sans prix/!'"
+
+"Have you visited Paris since the restoration, Lord Doningdale," asked
+Maltravers.
+
+His lordship looked at him sharply, and then turned his eye to Madame de
+Ventadour.
+
+"Nay," said Valerie; laughing, "I did not dictate the question."
+
+"Yes," said Lord Doningdale, "I have been at Paris."
+
+"His Majesty must have been delighted to return your lordship's
+hospitality."
+
+Lord Doningdale looked a little embarrassed, and made no reply, but put
+his horse into a canter.
+
+"You have galled our host," said Valerie, smiling.  "Louis XVIII. and
+his friends lived here as long as they pleased, and as sumptuously as
+they could; their visits half ruined the owner, who is the model of a
+/gentilhomme/ and /preux chevalier/.  He went to Paris to witness their
+triumph; he expected, I fancy, the order of the St. Esprit.  Lord
+Doningdale has royal blood in his veins.  His Majesty asked him once to
+dinner, and, when he took leave, said to him, 'We are happy, Lord
+Doningdale, to have thus requited our obligations to your lordship.'
+Lord Doningdale went back in dudgeon, yet he still boasts of his
+/souvenirs/, poor man."
+
+"Princes are not grateful, neither are republics," said Maltravers.
+
+"Ah, who is grateful," rejoined Valerie, "except a dog and a woman?"
+
+Maltravers found himself ushered into a vast dressing-room, and was
+informed, by a French valet, that in the country Lord Doningdale dined
+at six--the first bell would ring in a few minutes.  While the valet was
+speaking, Lord Doningdale himself entered the room.  His lordship had
+learned, in the meanwhile, that Maltravers was of the great and ancient
+commoner's house whose honours were centred in his brother; and yet
+more, that he was the Mr. Maltravers whose writings every one talked of,
+whether for praise or abuse.  Lord Doningdale had the two
+characteristics of a high-bred gentleman of the old school--respect for
+birth and respect for talent; he was, therefore, more than ordinarily
+courteous to Ernest, and pressed him to stay some days with so much
+cordiality, that Maltravers could not but assent.  His travelling toilet
+was scanty, but Maltravers thought little of dress.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+  "It is the soul that sees.  The outward eyes
+   Present the object, but the mind descries;
+   And thence delight, disgust, or cool indifference rise.
+     "CRABBE.
+
+WHEN Maltravers entered the enormous saloon, hung with damask, and
+decorated with the ponderous enrichments and furniture of the time of
+Louis XIV. (that most showy and barbarous of all tastes, which has
+nothing in it of the graceful, nothing of the picturesque, and which,
+nowadays, people who should know better imitate with a ludicrous
+servility), he found sixteen persons assembled.  His host stepped up
+from a circle which surrounded him, and formally presented his new
+visitor to the rest.  He was struck with the likeness which the sister
+of Valerie bore to Valerie herself; but it was a sobered and chastened
+likeness--less handsome, less impressive.  Mrs. George Herbert--such was
+the name she now owned--was a pretty, shrinking, timid girl, fond of her
+husband, and mightily awed by her father-in-law.  Maltravers sat by her,
+and drew her into conversation.  He could not help pitying the poor
+lady, when he found she was to live altogether at Doningdale
+Park--remote from all the friends and habits of her childhood--alone, so
+far as the affections were concerned, with a young husband, who was
+passionately fond of field-sports, and who, from the few words Ernest
+exchanged with him, seemed to have only three ideas--his dogs, his
+horses, and his wife.  Alas! the last would soon be the least in
+importance.  It is a sad position--that of a lively young Frenchwoman
+entombed in an English country-house!  Marriages with foreigners are
+seldom fortunate experiments.  But Ernest's attention was soon diverted
+from the sister by the entrance of Valerie herself, leaning on her
+husband's arm.  Hitherto he had not very minutely observed what change
+time had effected in her--perhaps he was half afraid.  He now gazed at
+her with curious interest.  Valerie was still extremely handsome, but
+her face had grown sharper, her form thinner and more angular; there was
+something in her eye and lip, discontented, restless, almost
+querulous:--such is the too common expression in the face of those born
+to love, and condemned to be indifferent.  The little sister was more to
+be envied of the two--come what may, she loved her husband, such as he
+was, and her heart might ache, but it was not with a void.
+
+Monsieur de Ventadour soon shuffled up to Maltravers--his nose longer
+than ever.
+
+"Hein--hein--how d'ye do--how d'ye do?--charmed to see you--saw madame
+before me--hein--hein--I suspect--I suspect--"
+
+"Mr. Maltravers, will you give Madame de Ventadour your arm?" said Lord
+Doningdale, as he stalked on to the dining-room with a duchess on his
+own.
+
+"And you have left Naples," said Maltravers: "left it for good?"
+
+"We do not think of returning."
+
+"It was a charming place--how I loved it!--how well I remember it!"
+Ernest spoke calmly--it was but a general remark.
+
+Valerie sighed gently.
+
+During dinner, the conversation between Maltravers and Madame de
+Ventadour was vague and embarrassed.  Ernest was no longer in love with
+her--he had outgrown that youthful fancy.  She had exercised influence
+over him--the new influences that he had created had chased away her
+image.  Such is life.  Long absences extinguish all the false lights,
+though not the true ones.  The lamps are dead in the banquet-room of
+yesterday; but a thousand years hence, and the stars we look on to-night
+will burn as brightly.  Maltravers was no longer in love with Valerie.
+But Valerie--ah, perhaps /hers/ had been true love!
+
+Maltravers was surprised when he came to examine the state of his own
+feelings--he was surprised to find that his pulse did not beat quicker
+at the touch of one whose very glance had once thrilled him to the
+soul--he was surprised, but rejoiced.  He was no longer anxious to seek,
+but to shun excitement, and he was a better and a higher being than he
+had been on the shores of Naples.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+  "Whence that low voice, a whisper from the heart,
+   That told of days long past?"--WORDSWORTH.
+
+ERNEST stayed several days at Lord Doningdale's, and every day he rode
+out with Valerie, but it was with a large party; and every evening he
+conversed with her, but the whole world might have overheard what they
+said.  In fact, the sympathy that had once existed between the young
+dreamer and the proud, discontented woman had in much passed away.
+Awakened to vast and grand objects, Maltravers was a dreamer no more.
+Inured to the life of trifles she had once loathed, Valerie had settled
+down into the usages and thoughts of the common world--she had no longer
+the superiority of earthly wisdom over Maltravers, and his romance was
+sobered in its eloquence, and her ear dulled to its tone.  Still Ernest
+felt a deep interest in her, and still she seemed to feel a sensitive
+pride in his career.
+
+One evening Maltravers had joined a circle in which Madame de Ventadour,
+with more than her usual animation, presided--and to which, in her
+pretty, womanly, and thoroughly French way, she was lightly laying down
+the law on a hundred subjects--Philosophy, Poetry, Sevres china, and the
+balance of power in Europe.  Ernest listened to her, delighted, but not
+enchanted.  Yet Valerie was not natural that night--she was speaking
+from forced spirits.
+
+"Well," said Madame de Ventadour at last, tired, perhaps of the part she
+had been playing, and bringing to a sudden close an animated description
+of the then French court--"well, see now if we ought not to be ashamed
+of ourselves--our talk has positively interrupted the music.  Did you
+see Lord Doningdale stop it with a bow to me, as much as to say, with
+his courtly reproof, 'It shall not disturb you, madam'?  I will no
+longer be accessory to your crime of bad taste!"
+
+With this the Frenchwoman rose, and, gliding through the circle, retired
+to the further end of the room.  Ernest followed her with his eyes.
+Suddenly she beckoned to him, and he approached and seated himself by
+her side.
+
+"Mr. Maltravers," said Valerie, then, with great sweetness in her
+voice,--"I have not yet expressed to you the delight I have felt from
+your genius.  In absence you have suffered me to converse with you--your
+books have been to me dear friends; as we shall soon part again, let me
+now tell you of this, frankly and without compliment."
+
+This paved the way to a conversation that approached more on the
+precincts of the past than any they had yet known.  But Ernest was
+guarded; and Valerie watched his words and looks with an interest she
+could not conceal--an interest that partook of disappointment.
+
+"It is an excitement," said Valerie, "to climb a mountain, though it
+fatigue; and though the clouds may even deny us a prospect from its
+summit--it is an excitement that gives a very universal pleasure, and
+that seems almost as if it were the result of a common human instinct
+which makes us desire to rise--to get above the ordinary thoroughfares
+and level of life.  Some such pleasure you must have in intellectual
+ambition, in which the mind is the upward traveller."
+
+"It is not the /ambition/ that pleases," replied Maltravers, it is the
+following a path congenial to our tastes, and made dear to us in a short
+time by habit.  The moments in which we look beyond our work, and fancy
+ourselves seated beneath the Everlasting Laurel, are few.  It is the
+work itself, whether of action or literature, that interests and excites
+us.  And at length the dryness of toil takes the familiar sweetness of
+custom.  But in intellectual labour there is another charm--we become
+more intimate with our own nature.  The heart and the soul grow friends,
+as it were, and the affections and the aspirations unite.  Thus, we are
+never without society--we are never alone; all that we have read,
+learned and discovered, is company to us.  This is pleasant," added
+Maltravers, "to those who have no clear connections in the world
+without."
+
+"And is that your case?"  asked Valerie, with a timid smile.
+
+"Alas, yes! and since I conquered one affection,--Madame de Ventadour, I
+almost think I have outlived the capacity of loving.  I believe that
+when we cultivate very largely the reason or the imagination, we blunt,
+to a certain extent, our young susceptibilities to the fair impressions
+of real life.  From 'idleness,' says the old Roman poet, 'Love feeds his
+torch.'"
+
+"You are too young to talk thus."
+
+"I speak as I feel."
+
+Valerie said no more.  Shortly afterwards Lord Doningdale approached
+them, and proposed that they should make an excursion the next day to
+see the ruins of an old abbey, some few miles distant.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+  "If I should meet thee
+   After long years,
+   How shall I greet thee?"--BYRON.
+
+IT was a smaller party than usual the next day, consisting only of Lord
+Doningdale, his son George Herbert, Valerie and Ernest.  They were
+returning from the ruins, and the sun, now gradually approaching the
+west, threw its slant rays over the gardens and houses of a small,
+picturesque town, or, perhaps, rather village, on the high North Road.
+It is one of the prettiest places in England, that town or village, and
+boasts an excellent old-fashioned inn, with a large and quaint
+pleasure-garden.  It was through the long and straggling street that our
+little party slowly rode, when the sky became suddenly overcast, and, a
+few large hailstones falling, gave notice of an approaching storm.
+
+"I told you we should not get safely through the day," said George
+Herbert.  "Now we are in for it."
+
+"George, that is a vulgar expression," said Lord Doningdale, buttoning
+up his coat.  While he spoke, a vivid flash of lightning darted across
+their very path, and the sky grew darker and darker.
+
+"We may as well rest at the inn," said Maltravers: "the storm is coming
+on apace, and Madame de Ventadour--"
+
+"You are right," interrupted Lord Doningdale; and he put his horse into
+a canter.
+
+They were soon at the door of the old hotel.  Bells rang dogs
+barked--hostlers ran.  A plain, dark, travelling post-chariot was before
+the inn-door; and, roused perhaps by the noise below, a lady in the
+"first-floor front, No. 2," came to the window.  This lady owned the
+travelling-carriage, and was at this time alone in that apartment.  As
+she looked carelessly at the party, her eyes rested on one form--she
+turned pale, uttered a faint cry, and fell senseless on the floor.
+
+Meanwhile, Lord Doningdale and his guests were shown into the room next
+to that tenanted by the lady.  Properly speaking, both the rooms made
+one long apartment for balls and county meetings, and the division was
+formed by a thin partition, removable at pleasure.  The hail now came on
+fast and heavy, the trees groaned, the thunder roared; and in the large,
+dreary room there was a palpable and oppressive sense of coldness and
+discomfort.  Valerie shivered--a fire was lighted--and the Frenchwoman
+drew near to it.
+
+"You are wet, my dear lady," said Lord Doningdale.  "You should take off
+that close habit, and have it dried."
+
+"Oh, no; what matters it?" said Valerie bitterly, and almost rudely.
+
+"It matters everything," said Ernest; "pray be ruled."
+
+"And do you care for me?" murmured Valerie.
+
+"Can you ask that question?" replied Ernest, in the same tone, and with
+affectionate and friendly warmth.
+
+Meanwhile, the good old lord had summoned the chambermaid, and, with the
+kindly imperiousness of a father, made Valerie quit the room.  The three
+gentlemen, left together, talked of the storm, wondered how long it
+would last, and debated the propriety of sending to Doningdale for the
+carriage.  While they spoke, the hail suddenly ceased, though clouds in
+the distant horizon were bearing heavily up to renew the charge.  George
+Herbert, who was the most impatient of mortals, especially of rainy
+weather in a strange place, seized the occasion, and insisted on riding
+to Doningdale, and sending back the carriage.
+
+"Surely a groom would do as well, George," said the father.
+
+"My dear father, no; I should envy the rogue too much.  I am bored to
+death here.  Marie will be frightened about us.  Brown Bess will take me
+back in twenty minutes.  I am a hardy fellow, you know.  Good-bye."
+
+Away darted the young sportsman, and in two minutes they saw him spur
+gaily from the inn-door.
+
+"It is very odd that /I/ should have such a son," said Lord Doningdale,
+musingly,--"a son who cannot amuse himself indoors for two minutes
+together.  I took great pains with his education, too.  Strange that
+people should weary so much of themselves that they cannot brave the
+prospect of a few minutes passed in reflection--that a shower and the
+resources of their own thoughts are evils so galling--very strange
+indeed.  But it is a confounded climate this, certainly.  I wonder when
+it will clear up."
+
+Thus muttering, Lord Doningdale walked, or rather marched, to and fro
+the room, with his hands in his coat pockets, and his whip sticking
+perpendicularly out of the right one.  Just at this moment the waiter
+came to announce that his lordship's groom was without, and desired much
+to see him.  Lord Doningdale had then the pleasure of learning that his
+favourite grey hackney, which he had ridden, winter and summer, for
+fifteen years, was taken with shivers, and, as the groom expressed it,
+seemed to have "the colic in its bowels!"
+
+Lord Doningdale turned pale, and hurried to the stables without saying a
+word.
+
+Maltravers, who, plunged in thought, had not overheard the low and brief
+conference between master and groom, remained alone, seated by the fire,
+his head buried in his bosom, and his arms folded.
+
+Meanwhile, the lady, who occupied the adjoining chamber, had recovered
+slowly from her swoon.  She put both hands to her temples, as if trying
+to recollect her thoughts.  Hers was a fair, innocent, almost childish
+face; and now, as a smile shot across it, there was something so sweet
+and touching in the gladness it shed over that countenance, that you
+could not have seen it without strong and almost painful interest.  For
+it was the gladness of a person who has known sorrow.  Suddenly she
+started up, and said: "No, then!  I do not dream.  He is come back--he
+is here--all will be well again!  Ha! it is his voice.  Oh, bless him,
+it is /his/ voice!"  She paused, her finger on her lip, her face bent
+down.  A low and indistinct sound of voices reached her straining ear
+through the thin door that divided her from Maltravers.  She listened
+intently, but she could not overhear the import.  Her heart beat
+violently.  "He is not alone!" she murmured, mournfully.  "I will wait
+till the sound ceases, and then I will venture in!"
+
+And what was the conversation carried on in that chamber?  We must
+return to Ernest.  He was sitting in the same thoughtful posture when
+Madame de Ventadour returned.
+
+The Frenchwoman coloured when she found herself alone with Ernest, and
+Ernest himself was not at his ease.
+
+"Herbert has gone home to order the carriage, and Lord Doningdale has
+disappeared, I scarce know whither.  You do not, I trust, feel the worse
+for the rain?"
+
+"No," said Valerie.
+
+"Shall you have any commands in London?" asked Maltravers; "I return to
+town to-morrow."
+
+"So soon!" and Valerie sighed.  "Ah!" she added, after a pause, "we
+shall not meet again for years, perhaps.  Monsieur de Ventadour is to be
+appointed ambassador to the Court and so--and so--.  Well, it is no
+matter.  What has become of the friendship we once swore to each other?"
+
+"It is here," said Maltravers, laying his hand on his heart.  "Here, at
+least, lies the half of that friendship which was my charge; and more
+than friendship, Valerie de Ventadour--respect--admiration--gratitude.
+At a time of life when passion and fancy, most strong, might have left
+me an idle and worthless voluptuary, you convinced me that the world has
+virtue, and that woman is too noble to be our toy--the idol of to-day,
+the victim of to-morrow.  Your influence, Valerie, left me a more
+thoughtful man--I hope a better one."
+
+"Oh!" said Madame de Ventadour, strongly affected; "I bless you for what
+you tell me: you cannot know--you cannot guess how sweet it is to me.
+Now I recognise you once more.  What--what did my resolution cost me?
+Now I am repaid!"
+
+Ernest was moved by her emotion, and by his own remembrances; he took
+her hand, and pressing it with frank and respectful tenderness--"I did
+not think, Valerie," said he, "when I reviewed the past, I did not think
+that you loved me--I was not vain enough for that; but, if so, how much
+is your character raised in my eyes--how provident, how wise your
+virtue!  Happier and better for both, our present feelings, each to
+each, than if we had indulged a brief and guilty dream of passion, at
+war with all that leaves passion without remorse, and bliss without
+alloy.  Now--"
+
+"Now," interrupted Valerie, quickly, and fixing on him her dark
+eyes--"now you love me no longer!  Yet it is better so.  Well, I will go
+back to my cold and cheerless state of life, and forget once more that
+Heaven endowed me with a heart!"
+
+"Ah, Valerie! esteemed, revered, still beloved, not indeed with the
+fires of old, but with a deep, undying, and holy tenderness, speak not
+thus to me.  Let me not believe you unhappy; let me think that, wise,
+sagacious, brilliant as you are, you have employed your gifts to
+reconcile yourself to a common lot.  Still let me look up to you when I
+would despise the circles in which you live, and say: 'On that pedestal
+an altar is yet placed, to which the heart may bring the offerings of
+the soul.'"
+
+"It is in vain--in vain that I struggle," said Valerie, half-choked with
+emotion, and clasping her hands passionately.  "Ernest, I love you
+still--I am wretched to think you love me no more: I would give you
+nothing--yet I exact all; my youth is going--my beauty dimmed--my very
+intellect is dulled by the life I lead; and yet I ask from you that
+which your young heart once felt for me.  Despise me, Maltravers, I am
+not what I seemed--I am a hypocrite--despise me."
+
+"No," said Ernest, again possessing himself of her hand, and falling on
+his knee by her side.  "No, never-to-be-forgotten, ever-to-be-honoured
+Valerie, hear me."  As he spoke, he kissed the hand he held; with the
+other, Valerie covered her face and wept bitterly, but in silence.
+Ernest paused till the burst of her feelings had subsided, her hand
+still in his--still warmed by his kisses--kisses as pure as cavalier
+ever impressed on the hand of his queen.
+
+At this time, the door communicating with the next room gently opened.
+A fair form--a form fairer and younger than that of Valerie de
+Ventadour--entered the apartment; the silence had deceived her--she
+believed that Maltravers was alone.  She had entered with her heart upon
+her lips; love, sanguine, hopeful love, in every vein, in every
+thought--she had entered dreaming that across that threshold life would
+dawn upon her afresh--that all would be once more as it had been, when
+the common air was rapture.  Thus she entered; and now she stood
+spell-bound, terror-stricken, pale as death--life turned to
+stone--youth--hope--bliss were for ever over to her!  Ernest kneeling to
+another was all she saw!  For this had she been faithful and true amidst
+storm and desolation; for this had she hoped--dreamed--lived.  They did
+not note her; she was unseen--unheard.  And Ernest, who would have gone
+barefoot to the end of the earth to find her, was in the very room with
+her, and knew it not!
+
+"Call me again /beloved/!" said Valerie, very softly.
+
+"Beloved Valerie, hear me."
+
+These words were enough for the listener; she turned noiselessly away:
+humble as that heart was, it was proud.  The door closed on her--she had
+obtained the wish of her whole being--Heaven had heard her prayer--she
+had once more seen the lover of her youth; and thenceforth all was night
+and darkness to her.  What matter what became of her?  One moment, what
+an effect it produces upon years!--ONE MOMENT!--virtue, crime, glory,
+shame, woe, rapture, rest upon moments!  Death itself is but a moment,
+yet Eternity is its successor!
+
+"Hear me!" continued Ernest, unconscious of what had passed--" hear me;
+let us be what human nature and worldly forms seldom allow those of
+opposite sexes to be--friends to each other, and to virtue also--friends
+through time and absence--friends through all the vicissitudes of
+life--friends on whose affection shame and remorse never cast a
+shade--friends who are to meet hereafter!  Oh! there is no attachment so
+true, no tie so holy, as that which is founded on the old chivalry of
+loyalty and honour; and which is what love would be, if the heart and
+the soul were unadulterated by clay."
+
+There was in Ernest's countenance an expression so noble, in his voice a
+tone so thrilling, that Valerie was brought back at once to the nature
+which a momentary weakness had subdued.  She looked at him with an
+admiring and grateful gaze, and then said, in a calm but low voice,
+"Ernest, I understand you; yes, your friendship is dearer to me than
+love."
+
+At this time they heard the voice of Lord Doningdale on the stairs.
+Valerie turned away.  Maltravers, as he rose, extended his hand; she
+pressed it warmly, and the spell was broken, the temptation conquered,
+the ordeal passed.  While Lord Doningdale entered the room, the
+carriage, with Herbert in it, drove to the door.  In a few minutes the
+little party were within the vehicle.  As they drove away, the hostlers
+were harnessing the horses to the dark green travelling-carriage.  From
+the window, a sad and straining eye gazed upon the gayer equipage of the
+peer--that eye which Maltravers would have given his whole fortune to
+meet again.  But he did not look up; and Alice Darvil turned away, and
+her fate was fixed!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+  "Strange fits of passion I have known.
+      And I will dare to tell."--WORDSWORTH.
+
+  "*  *  *  *  *  The food of hope
+   Is meditated action."--WORDSWORTH.
+
+MALTRAVERS left Doningdale the next day.  He had no further conversation
+with Valerie; but when he took leave of her, she placed in his hand a
+letter, which he read as he rode slowly through the beech avenues of the
+park.  Translated, it ran thus:
+
+
+"Others would despise me for the weakness I showed--but you will not!
+It is the sole weakness of a life.  None can know what I have passed
+through--what hours of dejection and gloom.  I, whom so many envy!
+Better to have been a peasant girl, with love, than a queen whose life
+is but a dull mechanism.  You, Maltravers, I never forgot in absence;
+and your image made yet more wearisome and trite the things around me.
+Years passed, and your name was suddenly on men's lips.  I heard of you
+wherever I went--I could not shut you from me.  Your fame was as if you
+were conversing by my side.  We met at last, suddenly and unexpectedly.
+I saw that you loved me no more, and that thought conquered all my
+resolves: anguish subdues the nerves of the mind as sickness those of
+the body.  And thus I forgot, and humbled, and might have undone myself.
+Juster and better thoughts are once more awakened within me, and when we
+meet again I shall be worthy of your respect.  I see how dangerous are
+that luxury of thought, that sin of discontent which I indulged.  I go
+back to life, resolved to vanquish all that can interfere with its
+claims and duties.  Heaven guide and preserve you, Ernest.  Think of me
+as one whom you will not blush to have loved--whom you will not blush
+hereafter to present to your wife.  With so much that is soft, as well
+as great within you, you were not formed like me--to be alone.
+
+     "FAREWELL!"
+
+
+Maltravers read, and re-read this letter; and when he reached his home,
+he placed it carefully amongst the things he most valued.  A lock of
+Alice's hair lay beside it--he did not think that either was dishonoured
+by the contact.
+
+With an effort, he turned himself once more to those stern yet high
+connections which literature makes with real life.  Perhaps there was a
+certain restlessness in his heart which induced him ever to occupy his
+mind.  That was one of the busiest years of his life--the one in which
+he did most to sharpen jealousy and confirm fame.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+  "In effect he entered my apartment."--/Gil Blas/.
+
+  "'I am surprised,' said he, 'at the caprice of Fortune,
+   who sometimes delights in loading an execrable author
+   with favours, whilst she leaves good writers to perish
+   for want.'"--/Gil Blas/.
+
+IT was just twelve months after his last interview with Valerie, and
+Madame de Ventadour had long since quitted England, when one morning, as
+Maltravers sat alone in his study, Castruccio Cesarini was announced.
+
+"Ah, my dear Castruccio, how are you?" cried Maltravers, eagerly, as the
+opening door presented the form of the Italian.
+
+"Sir," said Castruccio, with great stiffness, and speaking in French,
+which was his wont when he meant to be distant--"sir, I do not come to
+renew our former acquaintance--you are a great man [here a bitter
+sneer], I an obscure one [here Castruccio drew himself up]--I only come
+to discharge a debt to you which I find I have incurred."
+
+"What tone is this, Castruccio; and what debt do you speak of?"
+
+"On my arrival in town yesterday," said the poet solemnly, "I went to
+the man whom you deputed some years since to publish my little volume,
+to demand an account of its success; and I found that it had cost one
+hundred and twenty pounds, deducting the sale of forty-nine copies which
+had been sold.  /Your/ books sell some thousands, I am told.  It is well
+contrived--mine fell still-born, no pains were taken with it--no
+matter--[a wave of the hand].  You discharged this debt, I repay you:
+there is a cheque for the money.  Sir, I have done!  I wish you a good
+day, and health to enjoy /your/ reputation."
+
+"Why, Cesarini, this is folly."
+
+"Sir--"
+
+"Yes, it is folly; for there is no folly equal to that of throwing away
+friendship in a world where friendship is so rare.  You insinuate that I
+am to blame for any neglect which your work experienced.  Your publisher
+can tell you that I was more anxious about your book than I have ever
+been about my own."
+
+"And the proof is that forty-nine copies were sold!"
+
+"Sit down, Castruccio; sit down, and listen to reason;" and Maltravers
+proceeded to explain, and soothe, and console.  He reminded the poor
+poet that his verses were written in a foreign tongue--that even English
+poets of great fame enjoyed but a limited sale for their works--that it
+was impossible to make the avaricious public purchase what the stupid
+public would not take an interest in--in short, he used all those
+arguments which naturally suggested themselves as best calculated to
+convince and soften Castruccio; and he did this with so much evident
+sympathy and kindness, that at length the Italian could no longer
+justify his own resentment.  A reconciliation took place, sincere on the
+part of Maltravers, hollow on the part of Cesarini; for the disappointed
+author could not forgive the successful one.
+
+"And how long shall you stay in London?"
+
+"Some months."
+
+"Send for your luggage, and be my guest."
+
+"No; I have taken lodgings that suit me.  I am formed for solitude."
+
+"While you stay here, you will, however, go into the world."
+
+"Yes, I have some letters of introduction, and I hear that the English
+can honour merit, even in an Italian."
+
+"You hear the truth, and it will amuse you, at least, to see our eminent
+men.  They will receive you most hospitably.  Let me assist you as a
+cicerone."
+
+"Oh, your /valuable/ time!"
+
+"Is at your disposal: but where are you going?"
+
+"It is Sunday, and I have had my curiosity excited to hear a celebrated
+preacher--Mr. ------, who they tell me, is now more talked of than /any
+author/ in London."
+
+"They tell you truly--I will go with you--I myself have not yet heard
+him, but proposed to do so this very day."
+
+"Are you not jealous of a man so much spoken of?"
+
+"Jealous!--why, I never set up for a popular preacher!--/ce n'est pas
+mon metier/."
+
+"If I were a /successful/ author, I should be jealous if the
+dancing-dogs were talked of."
+
+"No, my dear Cesarini, I am sure you would not.  You are a little
+irritated at present by natural disappointment; but the man who has as
+much success as he deserves is never morbidly jealous, even of a rival
+in his own line.  Want of success sours us; but a little sunshine smiles
+away the vapours.  Come, we have no time to lose."
+
+Maltravers took his hat, and the two young men bent their way to ------
+Chapel.  Cesarini still retained the singular fashion of his dress,
+though it was now made of handsomer materials, and worn with more
+coxcombry and pretension.  He had much improved in person--had been
+admired in Paris, and told that he looked like a man of genius--and,
+with his black ringlets flowing over his shoulders, his long moustache,
+his broad Spanish-shaped hat, and eccentric garb, he certainly did not
+look like other people.  He smiled with contempt at the plain dress of
+his companion.  "I see," said he, "that you follow the fashion, and look
+as if you passed your life with /elegans/ instead of students.  I wonder
+you condescend to such trifles as fashionably-shaped hats and coats."
+
+"It would be worse trifling to set up for originality in hats and coats,
+at least in sober England.  I was born a gentleman, and I dress my
+outward frame like others of my order.  Because I am a writer, why
+should I affect to be different from other men?"
+
+"I see that you are not above the weakness of your countryman Congreve,"
+said Cesarini, "who deemed it finer to be a gentleman than an author."
+
+"I always thought that anecdote misconstrued.  Congreve had a proper and
+manly pride, to my judgment, when he expressed a dislike to be visited
+merely as a raree-show."
+
+"But is it policy to let the world see that an author is like other
+people?  Would he not create a deeper personal interest if he showed
+that even in person alone he was unlike the herd?  He ought to be seen
+seldom--not to stale his presence--and to resort to the arts that belong
+to the royalty of intellect as well as the royalty of birth."
+
+"I dare say an author, by a little charlatanism of that nature, might be
+more talked of--might be more adored in the boarding-schools, and make a
+better picture in the exhibition.  But I think, if his mind be manly, he
+would lose in self-respect at every quackery of the sort.  And my
+philosophy is, that to respect oneself is worth all the fame in the
+world."
+
+Cesarini sneered and shrugged his shoulders; it was quite evident that
+the two authors had no sympathy with each other.
+
+They arrived at last at the chapel, and with some difficulty procured
+seats.
+
+Presently the service began.  The preacher was a man of unquestionable
+talent and fervid eloquence; but his theatrical arts, his affected
+dress, his artificial tones and gestures; and, above all, the fanatical
+mummeries which he introduced into the House of God, disgusted
+Maltravers, while they charmed, entranced, and awed Cesarini.  The one
+saw a mountebank and impostor--the other recognised a profound artist
+and an inspired prophet.
+
+But while the discourse was drawing towards a close, while the preacher
+was in one of his most eloquent bursts--the ohs! and ahs! of which were
+the grand prelude to the pathetic peroration--the dim outline of a
+female form, in the distance, riveted the eyes and absorbed the thoughts
+of Maltravers.  The chapel was darkened, though it was broad daylight;
+and the face of the person that attracted Ernest's attention was
+concealed by her head-dress and veil.  But that bend of the neck, so
+simply graceful, so humbly modest, recalled to his heart but one image.
+Every one has, perhaps, observed that there is a physiognomy (if the
+bull may be pardoned) of /form/ as well as face, which it rarely happens
+that two persons possess in common.  And this, with most, is peculiarly
+marked in the turn of the head, the outline of the shoulders, and the
+ineffable something that characterises the postures of each individual
+in repose.  The more intently he gazed, the more firmly Ernest
+was persuaded that he saw before him the long-lost, the
+never-to-be-forgotten mistress of his boyish days, and his first love.
+On one side of the lady in question sat an elderly gentleman, whose eyes
+were fixed upon the preacher; on the other, a beautiful little girl,
+with long fair ringlets, and that cast of features which, from its
+exquisite delicacy and expressive mildness, painters and poets call the
+"angelic."  These persons appeared to belong to the same party.
+Maltravers literally trembled, so great were his impatience and
+agitation.  Yet still, the dress of the supposed likeness of Alice, the
+appearance of her companions, were so evidently above the ordinary rank,
+that Ernest scarcely ventured to yield to the suggestions of his own
+heart.  Was it possible that the daughter of Luke Darvil, thrown upon
+the wide world, could have risen so far beyond her circumstances and
+station?  At length the moment came when he might resolve his
+doubts--the discourse was concluded--the extemporaneous prayer was at an
+end--the congregation broke up, and Maltravers pushed his way, as well
+as he could, through the dense and serried crowd.  But every moment some
+vexatious obstruction, in the shape of a fat gentleman or three
+close-wedged ladies, intercepted his progress.  He lost sight of the
+party in question amidst the profusion of tall bonnets and waving
+plumes.  He arrived at last, breathless and pale as death (so great was
+the struggle within him), at the door of the chapel.  He arrived in time
+to see a plain carriage with servants in grey undress liveries, driving
+from the porch--and caught a glimpse, within the vehicle, of the golden
+ringlets of a child.  He darted forward, he threw himself almost before
+the horses.  The coachman drew in, and with an angry exclamation, very
+much like an oath, whipped his horses aside and went off.  But that
+momentary pause sufficed.--"It is she--it is!  O Heaven, it is Alice!"
+murmured Maltravers.  The whole place reeled before his eyes, and he
+clung, overpowered and unconscious, to a neighbouring lamp-post for
+support.  But he recovered himself with an agonising effort, as the
+thought struck upon this heart that he was about to lose sight of her
+again for ever.  And he rushed forward, like one frantic, in pursuit of
+the carriage.  But there was a vast crowd of other carriages, besides
+stream upon stream of foot-passengers,--for the great and the gay
+resorted to that place of worship, as a fashionable excitement in a dull
+day.  And after a weary and a dangerous chase, in which he had been
+nearly run over three times, Maltravers halted at last, exhausted and in
+despair.  Every succeeding Sunday, for months, he went to the same
+chapel, but in vain; in vain, too, he resorted to every public haunt of
+dissipation and amusement.  Alice Darvil he beheld no more!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+               "Tell me, sir,
+   Have you cast up your state, rated your land,
+   And find it able to endure the charge?"
+     /The Noble Gentleman/.
+
+By degrees, as Maltravers sobered down from the first shock of that
+unexpected meeting, and from the prolonged disappointment that followed
+it, he became sensible of a strange kind of happiness or contentment.
+Alice was not in poverty, she was not eating the unhallowed bread of
+vice, or earning the bitter wages of laborious penury.  He saw her in
+reputable, nay, opulent circumstances.  A dark nightmare, that had
+often, amidst the pleasures of youth, or the triumphs of literature,
+weighed upon his breast, was removed.  He breathed more freely--he could
+sleep in peace.  His conscience could no longer say to him, "She who
+slept upon thy bosom is a wanderer upon the face of the earth--exposed
+to every temptation, perishing perhaps for want."  That single sight of
+Alice had been like the apparition of the injured Dead conjured up at
+Heraclea--whose sight could pacify the aggressor and exorcise the
+spectres of remorse.  He was reconciled with himself, and walked on to
+the Future with a bolder step and a statelier crest.  Was she married to
+that staid and sober-looking personage whom he had beheld with her? was
+that child the offspring of their union?  He almost hoped so--it was
+better to lose than to destroy her.  Poor Alice! could she have dreamed,
+when she sat at his feet gazing up into his eyes, that a time would come
+when Maltravers would thank Heaven for the belief that she was happy
+with another?
+
+Ernest Maltravers now felt a new man: the relief of conscience operated
+on the efforts of his genius.  A more buoyant and elastic spirit entered
+into them--they seemed to breathe as with a second youth.
+
+Meanwhile, Cesarini threw himself into the fashionable world, and to his
+own surprise was /feted/ and caressed.  In fact, Castruccio was exactly
+the sort of person to be made a lion of.  The letters of introduction
+that he had brought from Paris were addressed to those great personages
+in England between whom and personages equally great in France politics
+makes a bridge of connection.  Cesarini appeared to them as an
+accomplished young man, brother-in-law to a distinguished member of the
+French Chamber.  Maltravers, on the other hand, introduced him to the
+literary dilettanti, who admire all authors that are not rivals.  The
+singular costume of Cesarini, which would have revolted persons in an
+Englishman, enchanted them in an Italian. He looked, they said, like a
+poet.  Ladies like to have verses written to them, and Cesarini, who
+talked very little, made up for it by scribbling eternally.  The young
+man's head soon grew filled with comparisons between himself in London
+and Petrarch at Avignon.  As he had always thought that fame was in the
+gift of lords and ladies, and had no idea of the multitude, he fancied
+himself already famous.  And, since one of his strongest feelings was
+his jealousy of Maltravers, he was delighted at being told he was a much
+more interesting creature than that haughty personage, who wore his
+neckcloth like other people, and had not even those indispensable
+attributes of genius--black curls and a sneer.  Fine society, which, as
+Madame de Stael well says, depraves the frivolous mind and braces the
+strong one, completed the ruin of all that was manly in Cesarini's
+intellect.  He soon learned to limit his desire of effect or distinction
+to gilded saloons; and his vanity contented itself upon the scraps and
+morsels from which the lion heart of true ambition turns in disdain.
+But this was not all.  Cesarini was envious of the greater affluence of
+Maltravers.  His own fortune was in a small capital of eight or nine
+thousand pounds: but, thrown in the midst of the wealthiest society in
+Europe, he could not bear to sacrifice a single claim upon its esteem.
+He began to talk of the satiety of wealth, and young ladies listened to
+him with remarkable interest when he did so--he obtained the reputation
+of riches--he was too vain not to be charmed with it.  He endeavoured to
+maintain the claim by adopting the extravagant excesses of the day.  He
+bought horses--he gave away jewels--he made love to a marchioness of
+forty-two, who was very kind to him and very fond of /ecarte/--he
+gambled--he was in the high road to destruction.
+
+
+
+BOOK VI.
+
+   Perchance you say that gold's the arch-exceller,
+   And to be rich is sweet?--EURIP. /Ion./, line 641.
+
+   *  *  *  'Tis not to be endured,
+   To yield our trodden path and turn aside,
+   Giving our place to knaves.--/Ibid./, line 648
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+  "L'adresse et l'artifice out passe dans mon coeur;
+   Qu'ou a sous cet habit et d'esprit et de ruse."*--REGNARD.
+
+* Subtility and craft have taken possession of my heart; but under this
+habit one exhibits both shrewdness and wit.
+
+IT was a fine morning in July, when a gentleman who had arrived in town
+the night before--after an absence from England of several years--walked
+slowly and musingly up the superb thoroughfare which connects the
+Regent's park with St. James's.
+
+He was a man, who, with great powers of mind, had wasted his youth in a
+wandering vagabond kind of life, but who had worn away the love of
+pleasure, and began to awaken to a sense of ambition.
+
+"It is astonishing how this city is improved," said he to himself.
+"Everything gets on in this world with a little energy and bustle--and
+everybody as well as everything.  My old cronies, fellows not half so
+clever as I am, are all doing well.  There's Tom Stevens, my very fag at
+Eton--snivelling little dog he was too!--just made under-secretary of
+state.  Pearson, whose longs and shorts I always wrote, is now
+head-master to the human longs and shorts of a public school--editing
+Greek plays, and booked for a bishopric.  Collier, I see by the papers,
+is leading his circuit--and Ernest Maltravers (but /he/ had some talent)
+has made a name in the world.  Here am I, worth them all put together,
+who have done nothing but spend half my little fortune in spite of all
+my economy.  Egad, this must have an end.  I must look to the main
+chance; and yet, just when I want his help the most, my worthy uncle
+thinks fit to marry again.  Humph--I'm too good for this world."
+
+While thus musing, the soliloquist came in direct personal contact with
+a tall gentleman, who carried his head very high in the air, and did not
+appear to see that he had nearly thrown our abstracted philosopher off
+his legs.
+
+"Zounds, sir, what do you mean?" cried the latter.
+
+"I beg your par--" began the other, meekly, when his arm was seized, and
+the injured man exclaimed, "Bless me, sir, is it indeed /you/ whom I
+see?"
+
+"Ha!--Lumley?"
+
+"The same; and how fares it, any dear uncle?  I did not know you were in
+London.  I only arrived last night.  How well you are looking!"
+
+"Why, yes, Heaven be praised, I am pretty well."
+
+"And happy in your new ties?  You must present me to Mrs. Templeton."
+
+"Ehem," said Mr. Templeton, clearing his throat, and with a slight but
+embarrassed smile, "I never thought I should marry again."
+
+"/L'homme propose et Dieu dispose/," observed Lumley Ferrers; for it was
+he.
+
+"Gently, my dear nephew," replied Mr. Templeton, gravely; "those phrases
+are somewhat sacrilegious; I am an old-fashioned person, you know."
+
+"Ten thousand apologies."
+
+"/One/ apology will suffice; these hyperboles of phrase are almost
+sinful."
+
+"Confounded old prig!" thought Ferrers; but he bowed sanctimoniously.
+
+"My dear uncle, I have been a wild fellow in my day; but with years
+comes reflection; and under your guidance, if I may hope for it, I trust
+to grow a wiser and a better man."
+
+"It is well, Lumley," returned the uncle, "and I am very glad to see you
+returned to your own country.  Will you dine with me to-morrow?  I am
+living near Fulham.  You had better bring your carpet-bag, and stay with
+me some days; you will be heartily welcome, especially if you can shift
+without a foreign servant.  I have a great compassion for papists,
+but--"
+
+"Oh, my dear uncle, do not fear; I am not rich enough to have a foreign
+servant, and have not travelled over three-quarters of the globe without
+learning that it is possible to dispense with a valet."
+
+"As to being rich enough," observed Mr. Templeton, with a calculating
+air, "seven hundred and ninety-five pounds ten shillings a year will
+allow a man to keep two servants, if he pleases; but I am glad to find
+you economical at all events.  We meet to-morrow, then, at six o'clock."
+
+"/Au revoir/--I mean, God bless you.
+
+"Tiresome old gentleman that," muttered Ferrers, "and not so cordial as
+formerly; perhaps his wife is /enceinte/, and he is going to do me the
+injustice of having another heir.  I must look to this; for without
+riches, I had better go back and live /au cinquieme/ at Paris."
+
+With this conclusion, Lumley quickened his pace, and soon arrived at
+Seamore Place.  In a few moments more he was in the library well stored
+with books, and decorated with marble busts and images from the studios
+of Canova and Thorwaldsen.
+
+"My master, sir, will be down immediately," said the servant who
+admitted him; and Ferrers threw himself on a sofa, and contemplated the
+apartment with an air half envious and half cynical.
+
+Presently the door opened, and "My dear Ferrers!"  "Well, /mon cher/,
+how are you?" were the salutations hastily exchanged.
+
+After the first sentences of inquiry, gratulation, and welcome, had
+cleared the way for more general conversation,--"Well, Maltravers," said
+Ferrers, "so here we are together again, and after a lapse of so many
+years! both older, certainly; and you, I suppose, wiser.  At all events,
+people think you so; and that's all that's important in the question.
+Why, man, you are looking as young as ever, only a little paler and
+thinner; but look at me--I am not very /much/ past thirty, and I am
+almost an old man; bald at the temples, crows' feet, too, eh!  Idleness
+ages one damnably."
+
+"Pooh, Lumley, I never saw you look better.  And are you really come to
+settle in England?"
+
+"Yes, if I can afford it.  But at my age, and after having seen so much,
+the life of an idle, obscure /garcon/ does not content me.  I feel that
+the world's opinion, which I used to despise, is growing necessary to
+me.  I want to be something.  What can I be?  Don't look alarmed, I
+won't rival you.  I dare say literary reputation is a fine thing, but I
+desire some distinction more substantial and worldly.  You know your own
+country; give me a map of the roads to Power."
+
+"To Power!  Oh, nothing but law, politics, and riches."
+
+"For law I am too old; politics, perhaps, might suit me; but riches, my
+dear Ernest--ah, how I long for a good account with my banker!"
+
+"Well, patience and hope.  Are you are not a rich uncle's heir?"
+
+"I don't know," said Ferrers, very dolorously; "the old gentleman has
+married again, and may have a family."
+
+"Married!--to whom?"
+
+"A widow, I hear; I know nothing more, except that she has a child
+already.  So you see she has got into a cursed way of having children.
+And perhaps, by the time I'm forty, I shall see a whole covey of cherubs
+flying away with the great Templeton property!"
+
+"Ha, ha; your despair sharpens your wit, Lumley; but why not take a leaf
+out of your uncle's book, and marry yourself?"
+
+"So I will when I can find an heiress.  If that is what you meant to
+say--it is a more sensible suggestion than any I could have supposed to
+come from a man who writes books, especially poetry: and your advice is
+not to be despised.  For rich I will be; and as the fathers (I don't
+mean of the Church, but in Horace) told the rising generation, the first
+thing is to resolve to be rich, it is only the second thing to consider
+how."
+
+"Meanwhile, Ferrers, you will be my guest."
+
+"I'll dine with you to-day; but to-morrow I am off to Fulham, to be
+introduced to my aunt.  Can't you fancy her?--grey /gros-de-Naples/
+gown: gold chain with an eyeglass; rather fat; two pugs, and a parrot!
+'Start not, this is fancy's sketch!'  I have not yet seen the
+respectable relative with my physical optics.  What shall we have for
+dinner?  Let me choose, you were always a bad caterer."  As Ferrers thus
+rattled on, Maltravers felt himself growing younger: old times and old
+adventures crowded fast upon him; and the two friends spent a most
+agreeable day together.  It was only the next morning that Maltravers,
+in thinking over the various conversations that had passed between them,
+was forced reluctantly to acknowledge that the inert selfishness of
+Lumley Ferrers seemed now to have hardened into a resolute and
+systematic want of principle, which might, perhaps, make him a dangerous
+and designing man, if urged by circumstances into action.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+  "/Dauph./  Sir, I must speak to you.  I have been long your
+   despised kinsman.
+
+  "/Morose./  Oh, what thou wilt, nephew."--EPICENE.
+
+  "Her silence is dowry eno'--exceedingly soft spoken; thrifty
+   of her speech, that spends but six words a day."--/Ibid./
+
+THE coach dropped Mr. Ferrers at the gate of a villa about three miles
+from town.  The lodge-keeper charged himself with the carpet-bag, and
+Ferrers strolled, with his hands behind him (it was his favourite mode
+of disposing of them), through the beautiful and elaborate
+pleasure-grounds.
+
+"A very nice, snug little box (jointure-house, I suppose)!  I would not
+grudge that, I'm sure, if I had but the rest.  But here, I suspect,
+comes madam's first specimen of the art of having a family."  This last
+thought was extracted from Mr. Ferrers's contemplative brain by a lovely
+little girl, who came running up to him, fearless and spoilt as she was;
+and, after indulging a tolerable stare, exclaimed, "Are you come to see
+papa, sir?"
+
+"Papa!--the deuce!"--thought Lumley; "and who is papa, my dear?"
+
+"Why, mamma's husband.  He is not my papa by rights."
+
+"Certainly not, my love; not by rights--I comprehend."
+
+"Eh!"
+
+"Yes, I am going to see your papa by wrongs--Mr. Templeton."
+
+"Oh, this way, then."
+
+"You are very fond of Mr. Templeton, my little angel."
+
+"To be sure I am.  You have not seen the rocking-horse he is going to
+give me."
+
+"Not yet, sweet child!  And how is mamma?"
+
+"Oh, poor, dear mamma," said the child, with a sudden change of voice,
+and tears in her eyes. "Ah, she is not well!"
+
+"In the family way, to a dead certainty!" muttered Ferrers with a groan:
+"but here is my uncle.  Horrid name!  Uncles were always wicked fellows.
+Richard the Third and the man who did something or other to the babes in
+the wood were a joke to my hard-hearted old relation, who has robbed me
+with a widow!  The lustful, liquorish old--My /dear/ sir, I'm so glad to
+see you!"
+
+Mr. Templeton, who was a man very cold in his manners, and always either
+looked over people's heads or down upon the ground, just touched his
+nephew's outstretched hand, and telling him he was welcome, observed
+that it was a very fine afternoon.
+
+"Very, indeed; sweet place this; you see, by the way, that I have
+already made acquaintance with my fair cousin-in-law.  She is very
+pretty."
+
+"I really think she is," said Mr. Templeton, with some warmth, and
+gazing fondly at the child, who was now throwing buttercups up in the
+air, and trying to catch them.  Mr. Ferrers wished in his heart that
+they had been brickbats!
+
+"Is she like her mother?" asked the nephew.
+
+"Like whom, sir?"
+
+"Her mother--Mrs. Templeton."
+
+"No, not very; there is an air, perhaps, but the likeness is not
+remarkably strong.  Would you not like to go to your room before
+dinner?"
+
+"Thank you.  Can I not first be presented to Mrs. Tem--"
+
+"She is at her devotions, Mr. Lumley," interrupted Mr. Templeton,
+grimly.
+
+"The she-hypocrite!" thought Ferrers.  "Oh, I am delighted that your
+pious heart has found so congenial a helpmate!"
+
+"It is a great blessing, and I am grateful for it.  This is the way to
+the house."
+
+Lumley, now formally installed in a grave bedroom, with dimity curtains
+and dark-brown paper with light-brown stars on it, threw himself into a
+large chair, and yawned and stretched with as much fervour as if he
+could have yawned and stretched himself into his uncle's property.  He
+then slowly exchanged his morning dress for a quiet suit of black, and
+thanked his stars that, amidst all his sins, he had never been a dandy,
+and had never rejoiced in a fine waistcoat--a criminal possession that
+he well knew would have entirely hardened his uncle's conscience against
+him.  He tarried in his room till the second bell summoned him to
+descend; and then, entering the drawing-room, which had a cold look even
+in July, found his uncle standing by the mantelpiece, and a young,
+slight, handsome woman, half-buried in a huge but not comfortable
+/fauteuil/.
+
+"Your aunt, Mrs. Templeton; madam, my nephew, Mr. Lumley Ferrers," said
+Templeton, with a wave of the hand.
+
+"John,--dinner!"
+
+"I hope I am not late!"
+
+"No," said Templeton, gently, for he had always liked his nephew, and
+began now to thaw towards him a little on seeing that Lumley put a good
+face upon the new state of affairs.
+
+"No, my dear boy--no; but I think order and punctuality cardinal virtues
+in a well-regulated family."
+
+"Dinner, sir," said the butler, opening the folding-doors at the end of
+the room.
+
+"Permit me," said Lumley, offering his arm to his aunt.  "What a lovely
+place this is!"
+
+Mrs. Templeton said something in reply, but what it was Ferrers could
+not discover, so low and choked was the voice.
+
+"Shy," thought he: "odd for a widow! but that's the way those
+husband-buriers take us in!"
+
+Plain as was the general furniture of the apartment, the natural
+ostentation of Mr. Templeton broke out in the massive value of the
+plate, and the number of the attendants.  He was a rich man, and he was
+proud of his riches: he knew it was respectable to be rich, and he
+thought it was moral to be respectable. As for the dinner, Lumley knew
+enough of his uncle's tastes to be prepared for viands and wines that
+even he (fastidious gourmand as he was) did not despise.
+
+Between the intervals of eating, Mr. Ferrers endeavoured to draw his
+aunt into conversation, but he found all his ingenuity fail him.  There
+was, in the features of Mrs. Templeton, an expression of deep but calm
+melancholy, that would have saddened most persons to look upon,
+especially in one so young and lovely.  It was evidently something
+beyond shyness or reserve that made her so silent and subdued, and even
+in her silence there was so much natural sweetness, that Ferrers could
+not ascribe her manner to haughtiness or the desire to repel.  He was
+rather puzzled; "for though," thought he, sensibly enough, "my uncle is
+not a youth, he is a very rich fellow; and how any widow, who is married
+again to a rich old fellow, can be melancholy, passes my understanding!"
+
+Templeton, as if to draw attention from his wife's taciturnity, talked
+more than usual.  He entered largely into politics, and regretted that
+in times so critical he was not in parliament.
+
+"Did I possess your youth and your health, Lumley, I would not neglect
+my country--Popery is abroad."
+
+"I myself should like very much to be in parliament," said Lumley,
+boldly.
+
+"I dare say you would," returned the uncle, drily.  "Parliament is very
+expensive--only fit for those who have a large stake in the country.
+Champagne to Mr. Ferrers."
+
+Lumley bit his lip, and spoke little during the rest of the dinner.  Mr.
+Templeton, however, waxed gracious by the time the dessert was on the
+table; and began cutting up a pineapple, with many assurances to Lumley
+that gardens were nothing without pineries.  "Whenever you settle in the
+country, nephew, be sure you have a pinery."
+
+"Oh, yes," said Lumley, almost bitterly, "and a pack of hounds, and a
+French cook; they will all suit my fortune very well."
+
+"You are more thoughtful on pecuniary matters than you used to be," said
+the uncle.
+
+"Sir," replied Ferrers, solemnly, "in a very short time I shall be what
+is called a middle-aged man."
+
+"Humph!" said the host.
+
+There was another silence.  Lumley was a man, as we have said, or
+implied before, of great knowledge of human nature, at least the
+ordinary sort of it, and he now revolved in his mind the various courses
+it might be wise to pursue towards his rich relation.  He saw that, in
+delicate fencing, his uncle had over him the same advantage that a tall
+man has over a short one with the physical sword-play;--by holding his
+weapon in a proper position, he kept the other at arm's length.  There
+was a grand reserve and dignity about the man who had something to give
+away, of which Ferrers, however actively he might shift his ground and
+flourish his rapier, could not break the defence.  He determined,
+therefore, upon a new game, for which his frankness of manner admirably
+adapted him.  Just as he formed this resolution, Mrs. Templeton rose,
+and with a gentle bow, and soft though languid smile, glided from the
+room.  The two gentlemen resettled themselves, and Templeton pushed the
+bottle to Ferrers.
+
+"Help yourself, Lumley! your travels seem to have deprived you of your
+high spirits--you are pensive."
+
+"Sir," said Ferrers, abruptly, "I wish to consult you."
+
+"Oh, young man! you have been guilty of some excess--you have
+gambled--you have--"
+
+"I have done nothing, sir, that should make me less worthy your esteem.
+I repeat, I wish to consult you; I have outlived the hot days of my
+youth--I am now alive to the claims of the world.  I have talents, I
+believe; and I have application, I know.  I wish to fill a position in
+the world that may redeem my past indolence, and do credit to my family.
+Sir, I set your example before me, and I now ask your counsel, with the
+determination to follow it."
+
+Templeton was startled; he half shaded his face with his hand, and gazed
+searchingly upon the high forehead and bold eyes of his nephew.  "I
+believe you are sincere," said he, after a pause.
+
+"You may well believe so, sir."
+
+"Well, I will think of this.  I like an honourable ambition--not too
+extravagant a one,--/that/ is sinful; but a /respectable/ station in the
+world is a proper object of desire, and wealth is a blessing; because,"
+added the rich man, taking another slice of the pineapple,--"it enables
+us to be of use to our fellow-creatures!"
+
+"Sir, then," said Ferrers, with daring animation--"then I avow that my
+ambition is precisely of the kind you speak of.  I am obscure, I desire
+to be reputably known; my fortune is mediocre, I desire it to be great.
+I ask you for nothing--I know your generous heart; but I wish
+independently to work out my own career."
+
+"Lumley," said Templeton, "I never esteemed you so much as I do now.
+Listen to me--I will confide in you; I think the government are under
+obligations to me."
+
+"I know it," exclaimed Ferrers, whose eyes sparkled at the thought of a
+sinecure--for sinecures then existed!
+
+"And," pursued the uncle, "I intend to ask them a favour in return."
+
+"Oh, sir!"
+
+"Yes; I think--mark me--with management and address, I may--"
+
+"Well, my dear sir!"
+
+"Obtain a barony for myself and heirs; I trust I shall soon have a
+family!"
+
+Had somebody given Lumley Ferrers a hearty cuff on the ear, he would
+have thought less of it than of this wind-up of his uncle's ambitious
+projects.  His jaws fell, his eyes grew an inch larger, and he remained
+perfectly speechless.
+
+"Ay," pursued Mr. Templeton, "I have long dreamed this; my character is
+spotless, my fortune great.  I have ever exerted my parliamentary
+influence in favour of ministers; and, in this commercial country, no
+man has higher claims than Richard Templeton to the honours of a
+virtuous, loyal, and religious state.  Yes, my boy,--I like your
+ambition--you see I have some of it myself; and since you are sincere in
+your wish to tread in my footsteps, I think I can obtain you a junior
+partnership in a highly respectable establishment.  Let me see; your
+capital now is--
+
+"Pardon me, sir," interrupted Lumley, colouring with indignation despite
+himself; "I honour commerce much, but my paternal relations are not such
+as would allow me to enter into trade.  And permit me to add," continued
+he, seizing with instant adroitness the new weakness presented to
+him--"permit me to add, that those relations, who have been ever kind to
+me, would, properly managed, be highly efficient in promoting your own
+views of advancement; for your sake I would not break with them.  Lord
+Saxingham is still a minister--nay, he is in the cabinet."
+
+"Hem--Lumley--hem!" said Templeton, thoughtfully; "we will consider--we
+will consider.  Any more wine?"
+
+"No, I thank you, sir."
+
+"Then I'll just take my evening stroll, and think over matters.  You can
+rejoin Mrs. Templeton.  And I say, Lumley,--I read prayers at nine
+o'clock.  Never forget your Maker, and He will not forget you.  The
+barony will be an excellent thing--eh?--an English peerage--yes--an
+English peerage! very different from your beggarly countships abroad!"
+
+So saying, Mr. Templeton rang for his hat and cane, and stepped into the
+lawn from the window of the dining-room.
+
+"'The world's mine oyster, which I with sword will open,'" muttered
+Ferrers; "I would mould this selfish old man to my purpose; for, since I
+have neither genius to write nor eloquence to declaim, I will at least
+see whether I have not cunning to plot and courage to act.
+Conduct--conduct--conduct--there lies my talent; and what is conduct but
+a steady walk from a design to its execution?"
+
+With these thoughts Ferrers sought Mrs. Templeton.  He opened the
+folding-doors very gently, for all his habitual movements were quick and
+noiseless, and perceived that Mrs. Templeton sat by the window, and that
+she seemed engrossed with a book which lay open on a little work-table
+before her.
+
+"Fordyce's /Advice to Young Married Women/, I suppose.  Sly jade!
+However, I must not have her against me."
+
+He approached; still Mrs. Templeton did not note him; nor was it till he
+stood facing her that he himself observed that her tears were falling
+fast over the page.
+
+He was a little embarrassed, and, turning towards the window, affected
+to cough, and then said, without looking at Mrs. Templeton, "I fear I
+have disturbed you."
+
+"No," answered the same low, stifled voice that had before replied to
+Lumley's vain attempts to provoke conversation; "it was a melancholy
+employment, and perhaps it is not right to indulge in it."
+
+"May I inquire what author so affected you."
+
+"It is but a volume of poems, and I am no judge of poetry; but it
+contains thoughts which--which--"  Mrs. Templeton paused abruptly, and
+Lumley quietly took up the book.
+
+"Ah!" said he, turning to the title-page--"my friend ought to be much
+flattered."
+
+"Your friend?"
+
+"Yes: this, I see, is by Ernest Maltravers, a very intimate ally of
+mine."
+
+"I should like to see him," cried Mrs. Templeton, almost with animation.
+"I read but little; it was by chance that I met with one of his books,
+and they are as if I heard a dear friend speaking to me.  Ah! I should
+like to see him!"
+
+"I'm sure, madam," said the voice of a third person, in an austere and
+rebuking accent, "I do not see what good it would do your immortal soul
+to see a man who writes idle verses, which appear to me, indeed, highly
+immoral.  I just looked into that volume this morning and found nothing
+but trash--love-sonnets, and such stuff."
+
+Mrs. Templeton made no reply, and Lumley, in order to change the
+conversation, which seemed a little too matrimonial for his taste, said,
+rather awkwardly, "You are returned very soon, sir."
+
+"Yes, I don't like walking in the rain!"
+
+"Bless me, it rains, so, it does--I had not observed--"
+
+"Are you wet, sir? had you not better--" began the wife timidly.
+
+"No, ma'am, I'm not wet, I thank you.  By the by, nephew, this new
+author is a friend of yours.  I wonder a man of his family should
+condescend to turn author.  He can come to no good.  I hope you will
+drop his acquaintance--authors are very unprofitable associates, I'm
+sure.  I trust I shall see no more of Mr. Maltravers's books in my
+house."
+
+"Nevertheless, he is well thought of, sir, and makes no mean figure in
+the world," said Lumley, stoutly; for he was by no means disposed to
+give up a friend who might be as useful to him as Mr. Templeton himself.
+
+"Figure or no figure--I have not had many dealings with authors in my
+day; and when I had I always repented it.  Not sound, sir, not
+sound--all cracked somewhere.  Mrs. Templeton, have the kindness to get
+the Prayer-book--my hassock must be fresh stuffed, it gives me quite a
+pain in my knee.  Lumley, will you ring the bell?  Your aunt is very
+melancholy.  True religion is not gloomy; we will read a sermon on
+Cheerfulness."
+
+"So, so," said Mr. Ferrers to himself, as he undressed that night--"I
+see that my uncle is a little displeased with my aunt's pensive face--a
+little jealous of her thinking of anything but himself: /tant mieux/.  I
+must work upon this discovery; it will not do for them to live too
+happily with each other.  And what with that lever, and what with his
+ambitious projects, I think I see a way to push the good things of this
+world a few inches nearer to Lumley Ferrers."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+  "The pride too of her step, as light
+   Along the unconscious earth she went,
+   Seemed that of one born with a right
+   To walk some heavenlier element."
+               /Loves of the Angels./
+
+          "Can it be
+   That these fine impulses, these lofty thoughts
+   Burning with their own beauty, are but given
+   To make me the low slave of vanity?"--/Erinna./
+
+          "Is she not too fair
+   Even to think of maiden's sweetest care?
+   The mouth and brow are contrasts."--/Ibid./
+
+IT was two or three evenings after the date of the last chapter, and
+there was what the newspapers call "a select party" in one of the
+noblest mansions in London.  A young lady, on whom all eyes were bent,
+and whose beauty might have served the painter for a model of Semiramis
+or Zenobia, more majestic than became her years, and so classically
+faultless as to have something cold and statue-like in its haughty
+lineaments, was moving through the crowd that murmured applauses as she
+passed.  This lady was Florence Lascelles, the daughter of Lumley's
+great relation, the Earl of Saxingham, and supposed to be the richest
+heiress in England.  Lord Saxingham himself drew aside his daughter as
+she swept along.
+
+"Florence," said he in a whisper, "the Duke of ------ is greatly struck
+with you--be civil to him--I am about to present him."
+
+So saying, the earl turned to a small, dark, stiff-looking man, of about
+twenty-eight years of age, at his left, and introduced the Duke of
+------ to Lady Florence Lascelles. The duke was unmarried; it was an
+introduction between the greatest match and the wealthiest heiress in
+the peerage.
+
+"Lady Florence," said Lord Saxingham, "is as fond of horses as yourself,
+duke, though not quite so good a judge."
+
+"I confess I /do/ like horses," said the duke, with an ingenuous air.
+
+Lord Saxingham moved away.
+
+Lady Florence stood mute--one glance of bright contempt shot from her
+large eyes; her lip slightly curled, and she then half turned aside, and
+seemed to forget that her new acquaintance was in existence.
+
+His grace, like most great personages, was not apt to take offence; nor
+could he, indeed, ever suppose that any slight towards the Duke of
+------ could be intended; still he thought it would be proper in Lady
+Florence to begin the conversation; for he himself, though not shy, was
+habitually silent, and accustomed to be saved the fatigue of defraying
+the small charges of society.  After a pause, seeing, however, that Lady
+Florence remained speechless, he began:
+
+"You ride sometimes in the Park, Lady Florence?"
+
+"Very seldom."
+
+"It is, indeed, too warm for riding at present."
+
+"I did not say so."
+
+"Hem--I thought you did."
+
+Another pause.
+
+"Did you speak, Lady Florence?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Oh, I beg pardon--Lord Saxingham is looking very well."
+
+"I am glad you think so."
+
+"Your picture in the exhibition scarcely does you justice, Lady
+Florence; yet Lawrence is usually happy."
+
+"You are very flattering," said Lady Florence, with a lively and
+perceptible impatience in her tone and manner.  The young beauty was
+thoroughly spoilt--and now all the scorn of a scornful nature was drawn
+forth, by observing the envious eyes of the crowd were bent upon one
+whom the Duke of ------ was actually talking to.  Brilliant as were her
+own powers of conversation, she would not deign to exert them--she was
+an aristocrat of intellect rather than birth, and she took it into her
+head that the duke was an idiot.  She was very much mistaken.  If she
+had but broken up the ice, she would have found that the water below was
+not shallow.  The duke, in fact, like many other Englishmen, though he
+did not like the trouble of showing forth, and had an ungainly manner,
+was a man who had read a good deal, possessed a sound head and an
+honourable mind, though he did not know what it was to love anybody, to
+care much for anything, and was at once perfectly sated and yet
+perfectly contented; for apathy is the combination of satiety and
+content.
+
+Still Florence judged of him as lively persons are apt to judge of the
+sedate; besides, she wanted to proclaim to him and to everybody else,
+how little she cared for dukes and great matches; she, therefore, with a
+slight inclination of her head, turned away, and extended her hand to a
+dark young man, who was gazing on her with that respectful but
+unmistakable admiration which proud women are never proud enough to
+despise.
+
+"Ah, signor," said she, in Italian, "I am so glad to see you; it is a
+relief, indeed, to find genius in a crowd of nothings."
+
+So saying, the heiress seated herself on one of those convenient couches
+which hold but two, and beckoned the Italian to her side.  Oh, how the
+vain heart of Castruccio Cesarini beat!--what visions of love, rank,
+wealth, already flitted before him!
+
+"I almost fancy," said Castruccio, "that the old days of romance are
+returned, when a queen could turn from princes and warriors to listen to
+a troubadour."
+
+"Troubadours are now more rare than warriors and princes," replied
+Florence, with gay animation, which contrasted strongly with the
+coldness she had manifested to the Duke of ------, "and therefore it
+would not now be a very great merit in a queen to fly from dulness and
+insipidity to poetry and wit."
+
+"Ah, say not wit," said Cesarini; "wit is incompatible with the grave
+character of deep feelings;--incompatible with enthusiasm, with
+worship;--incompatible with the thoughts that wait upon Lady Florence
+Lascelles."
+
+Florence coloured and slightly frowned; but the immense distinction
+between her position and that of the young foreigner, with her own
+inexperience, both of real life and the presumption of vain hearts, made
+her presently forget the flattery that would have offended her in
+another.  She turned the conversation, however, into general channels,
+and she talked of Italian poetry with a warmth and eloquence worthy of
+the theme.  While they thus conversed, a new guest had arrived, who,
+from the spot where he stood, engaged with Lord Saxingham, fixed a
+steady and scrutinising gaze upon the pair.
+
+"Lady Florence has indeed improved," said this new guest.  "I could not
+have conceived that England boasted any one half so beautiful."
+
+"She certainly is handsome, my dear Lumley,--the Lascelles cast of
+countenance," replied Lord Saxingham," and so gifted!  She is positively
+learned--quite a /bas bleu/.  I tremble to think of the crowd of poets
+and painters who will make a fortune out of her enthusiasm.  /Entre
+nous/, Lumley, I could wish her married to a man of sober sense, like
+the Duke of ------; for sober sense is exactly what she wants.  Do
+observe, she has been sitting just half an hour flirting with that
+odd-looking adventurer, a Signor Cesarini, merely because he writes
+sonnets and wears a dress like a stage-player!"
+
+"It is the weakness of the sex, my dear lord," said Lumley; "they like
+to patronise, and they dote upon all oddities, from China monsters to
+cracked poets.  But I fancy, by a restless glance cast every now and
+then around the room, that my beautiful cousin has in her something of
+the coquette."
+
+"There you are quite right, Lumley," returned Lord Saxingham, laughing;
+"but I will not quarrel with her for breaking hearts and refusing hands,
+if she do but grow steady at last, and settle into the Duchess of
+------."
+
+"Duchess of ------!" repeated Lumley, absently; "well, I will go and
+present myself.  I see she is growing tired of the signor.  I will sound
+her as to the ducal impressions, my dear lord."
+
+"Do--I dare not," replied the father; "she is an excellent girl, but
+heiresses are always contradictory.  It was very foolish to deprive me
+of all control over her fortune.  Come and see me again soon, Lumley.  I
+suppose you are going abroad?"
+
+"No, I shall settle in England; but of my prospects and plans more
+hereafter."
+
+With this, Lumley quietly glided away to Florence.  There was something
+in Ferrers that was remarkable from its very simplicity.  His clear,
+sharp features, with the short hair and high brow--the absolute
+plainness of his dress, and the noiseless, easy, self-collected calm of
+all his motions, made a strong contrast to the showy Italian, by whose
+side he now stood.  Florence looked up at him with some little surprise
+at his intrusion.
+
+"Ah, you don't recollect me!" said Lumley, with his pleasant laugh.
+"Faithless Imogen, after all your vows of constancy!  Behold your
+Alonzo!
+
+     'The worms they crept in and the worms they crept out.'
+
+"Don't you remember how you trembled when I told you that true story, as
+we
+
+     'Conversed as we sat on the green"?
+
+"Oh!" cried Florence, "it is indeed you, my dear cousin--my dear Lumley!
+What an age since we parted!"
+
+"Don't talk of age--it is an ugly word to a man of my years.  Pardon,
+signor, if I disturb you."
+
+And here Lumley, with a low bow, slid coolly into the place which
+Cesarini, who had shyly risen, left vacant for him.  Castruccio looked
+disconcerted; but Florence had forgotten him in her delight at seeing
+Lumley, and Cesarini moved discontentedly away, and seated himself at a
+distance.
+
+"And I come back," continued Lumley, "to find you a confirmed beauty and
+a professional coquette--don't blush!"
+
+"Do they, indeed, call me a coquette?"
+
+"Oh, yes,--for once the world is just."
+
+"Perhaps I do deserve the reproach.  Oh, Lumley, how I despise all that
+I see and hear!"
+
+"What, even the Duke of ------?"
+
+"Yes, I fear even the Duke of ------ is no exception!"
+
+"Your father will go mad if he hear you."
+
+"My father!--my poor father!--yes, he thinks the utmost that I, Florence
+Lascelles, am made for, is to wear a ducal coronet, and give the best
+balls in London."
+
+"And pray what was Florence Lascelles made for?"
+
+"Ah! I cannot answer the question.  I fear for Discontent and Disdain."
+
+"You are an enigma--but I will take pains and not rest till I solve
+you."
+
+"I defy you."
+
+"Thanks--better defy than despise.
+
+"Oh, you must be strangely altered, if I can despise you."
+
+"Indeed! what do you remember of me?"
+
+"That you were frank, bold, and therefore, I suppose, true!--that you
+shocked my aunts and my father by your contempt for the vulgar
+hypocrisies of our conventional life.  Oh, no! I cannot despise you."
+
+Lumley raised his eyes to those of Florence--he gazed on her long and
+earnestly--ambitious hopes rose high within him.
+
+"My fair cousin," said he, in an altered and serious tone, "I see
+something in your spirit kindred to mine; and I am glad that yours is
+one of the earliest voices which confirm my new resolves on my return to
+busy England!"
+
+"And those resolves?"
+
+"Are an Englishman's--energetic and ambitious."
+
+"Alas, ambition!  How many false portraits are there of the great
+original!"
+
+Lumley thought he had found a clue to the heart of his cousin, and he
+began to expatiate, with unusual eloquence, on the nobleness of that
+daring sin which "lost angels heaven."  Florence listened to him with
+attention, but not with sympathy.  Lumley was deceived.  His was not an
+ambition that could attract the fastidious but high-souled Idealist.
+The selfishness of his nature broke out in all the sentiments that he
+fancied would seem to her most elevated.  Place--power--titles--all
+these objects were low and vulgar to one who saw them daily at her feet.
+
+At a distance the Duke of ------ continued from time to time to direct
+his cold gaze at Florence.  He did not like her the less for not seeming
+to court him.  He had something generous within him, and could
+understand her.  He went away at last, and thought seriously of Florence
+as a wife.  Not a wife for companionship, for friendship, for love; but
+a wife who could take the trouble of rank off his hands--do him honour,
+and raise him an heir, whom he might flatter himself would be his own.
+
+From his corner also, with dreams yet more vain and daring, Castruccio
+Cesarini cast his eyes upon the queen-like brow of the great heiress.
+Oh, yes, she had a soul--she could disdain rank and revere genius!  What
+a triumph over De Montaigne--Maltravers--all the world, if he, the
+neglected poet, could win the hand for which the magnates of the earth
+sighed in vain!  Pure and lofty as he thought himself, it was her birth
+and her wealth which Cesarini adored in Florence.  And Lumley, nearer
+perhaps to the prize than either--yet still far off--went on conversing,
+with eloquent lips and sparkling eyes, while his cold heart was planning
+every word, dictating every glance, and laying out (for the most worldly
+are often the most visionary) the chart for a royal road to fortune.
+And Florence Lascelles, when the crowd had dispersed and she sought her
+chamber, forgot all three; and with that morbid romance often peculiar
+to those for whom Fate smiles the most, mused over the ideal image of
+the one she /could/ love--"in maiden meditation /not/ fancy-free!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+  "In mea vesanas habui dispendia vires,
+   Et valui poenas fortis in ipse meas."*--OVID.
+
+* I had the strength of a madman to my own cost, and employed that
+strength in my own punishment.
+
+  "Then might my breast be read within,
+   A thousand volumes would be written there."
+               EARL OF STIRLING.
+
+ERNEST MALTRAVERS was at the height of his reputation; the work which he
+had deemed the crisis that was to make or mar him was the most
+brilliantly successful of all he had yet committed to the public.
+Certainly, chance did as much for it as merit, as is usually the case
+with works that become instantaneously popular.  We may hammer away at
+the casket with strong arm and good purpose, and all in vain; when some
+morning a careless stroke hits the right nail on the head, and we secure
+the treasure.
+
+It was at this time, when in the prime of youth--rich, courted,
+respected, run after--that Ernest Maltravers fell seriously ill.  It was
+no active or visible disease, but a general irritability of the nerves,
+and a languid sinking of the whole frame.  His labours began, perhaps,
+to tell against him.  In earlier life he had been as active as a hunter
+of the chamois, and the hardy exercise of his frame counteracted the
+effects of a restless and ardent mind.  The change from an athletic to a
+sedentary habit of life--the wear and tear of the brain--the absorbing
+passion for knowledge which day and night kept all his faculties in a
+stretch; made strange havoc in a constitution naturally strong.  The
+poor author! how few persons understand; and forbear with, and pity him!
+He sells his health and youth to a rugged taskmaster.  And, O blind and
+selfish world, you expect him to be as free of manner, and as pleasant
+of cheer, and as equal of mood, as if he were passing the most agreeable
+and healthful existence that pleasure could afford to smooth the
+wrinkles of the mind, or medicine invent to regulate the nerves of the
+body.  But there was, besides all this, another cause that operated
+against the successful man!--His heart was too solitary.  He lived
+without the sweet household ties--the connections and amities he formed
+excited for a moment, but possessed no charm to comfort or to soothe.
+Cleveland resided so much in the country, and was of so much calmer a
+temperament, and so much more advanced in age, that, with all the
+friendship that subsisted between them, there was none of that daily and
+familiar interchange of confidence which affectionate natures demand as
+the very food of life.  Of his brother (as the reader will conjecture
+from never having been formally presented to him) Ernest saw but little.
+Colonel Maltravers, one of the gayest and handsomest men of his time,
+married a fine lady, lived principally at Paris, except when, for a few
+weeks in the shooting season, he filled his country house with
+companions who had nothing in common with Ernest: the brothers
+corresponded regularly every quarter, and saw each other once a
+year--this was all their intercourse.  Ernest Maltravers stood in the
+world alone, with that cold but anxious spectre--Reputation.
+
+It was late at night.  Before a table covered with the monuments of
+erudition and thought sat a young man with a pale and worn countenance.
+The clock in the room told with a fretting distinctness every moment
+that lessened the journey to the grave.  There was an anxious and
+expectant expression on the face of the student, and from time to time
+he glanced to the clock, and muttered to himself.  Was it a letter from
+some adored mistress--the soothing flattery from some mighty arbiter of
+arts and letters--that the young man eagerly awaited?  No; the aspirer
+was forgotten in the valetudinarian.  Ernest Maltravers was waiting the
+visit of his physician, whom at that late hour a sudden thought had
+induced him to summon from his rest.  At length the well-known knock was
+heard, and in a few moments the physician entered.  He was one well
+versed in the peculiar pathology of book men, and kindly as well as
+skilful.
+
+"My dear Mr. Maltravers, what is this?  How are we?--not seriously ill,
+I hope--no relapse--pulse low and irregular, I see, but no fever.  You
+are nervous."
+
+"Doctor," said the student, "I did not send for you at this time of
+night from the idle fear or fretful caprice of an invalid.  But when I
+saw you this morning, you dropped some hints which have haunted me ever
+since.  Much that it befits the conscience and the soul to attend to
+without loss of time depends upon my full knowledge of my real state.
+If I understand you rightly, I may have but a short time to live--is it
+so?"
+
+"Indeed!" said the doctor, turning away his face; "you have exaggerated
+my meaning.  I did not say that you were in what we technically call
+danger."
+
+"Am I then likely to be a /long/-lived man?"
+
+The doctor coughed--"That is uncertain, my dear young friend," said he,
+after a pause.
+
+"Be plain with me.  The plans of life must be based upon such
+calculations as we can reasonably form of its probable duration.  Do not
+fancy that I am weak enough or coward enough to shrink from any abyss
+which I have approached unconsciously; I desire--I adjure--nay, I
+command you to be explicit."
+
+There was an earnest and solemn dignity in his patient's voice and
+manner which deeply touched and impressed the good physician.
+
+"I will answer you frankly," said he; "you overwork the nerves and the
+brain; if you do not relax, you will subject yourself to confirmed
+disease and premature death.  For several months--perhaps for years to
+come--you should wholly cease from literary labour.  Is this a hard
+sentence?  You are rich and young--enjoy yourself while you can."
+
+Maltravers appeared satisfied--changed the conversation--talked easily
+on other matters for a few minutes: nor was it till he had dismissed his
+physician that he broke forth with the thoughts that were burning in
+him.
+
+"Oh!" cried he aloud, as he rose and paced the room with rapid strides;
+"now, when I see before me the broad and luminous path, am I to be
+condemned to halt and turn aside?  A vast empire rises on my view,
+greater than that of Caesars and conquerors--an empire durable and
+universal in the souls of men, that time itself cannot overthrow; and
+Death marches with me, side by side, and the skeleton hand waves me back
+to the nothingness of common men."
+
+He paused at the casement--he threw it open, and leant forth and gasped
+for air.  Heaven was serene and still, as morning came coldly forth
+amongst the waning stars; and the haunts of men, in their thoroughfare
+of idleness and of pleasure, were desolate and void.  Nothing, save
+Nature, was awake.
+
+"And if, O stars!"  murmured Maltravers, from the depth of his excited
+heart--"if I have been insensible to your solemn beauty--if the Heaven
+and the Earth had been to me but as air and clay--if I were one of a
+dull and dim-eyed herd--I might live on, and drop into the grave from
+the ripeness of unprofitable years.  It is because I yearn for the great
+objects of an immortal being, that life shrinks and shrivels up like a
+scroll.  Away!  I will not listen to these human and material monitors,
+and consider life as a thing greater than the things that I would live
+for.  My choice is made, glory is more persuasive than the grave."
+
+He turned impatiently from the casement--his eyes flashed--his chest
+heaved--he trod the chamber with a monarch's air.  All the calculations
+of prudence, all the tame and methodical reasonings with which, from
+time to time, he had sought to sober down the impetuous man into the
+calm machine, faded away before the burst of awful and commanding
+passions that swept over his soul.  Tell a man, in the full tide of his
+triumphs, that he bears death within him; and what crisis of thought can
+be more startling and more terrible!
+
+Maltravers had, as we have seen, cared little for fame, till fame had
+been brought within his reach: then, with every step he took, new Alps
+had arisen.  Each new conjecture brought to light a new truth that
+demanded enforcement or defence.  Rivalry and competition chafed his
+blood, and kept his faculties at their full speed.  He had the generous
+race-horse spirit of emulation.  Ever in action, ever in progress,
+cheered on by the sarcasms of foes, even more than by the applause of
+friends, the desire of glory had become the habit of existence.  When we
+have commenced a career, what stop is there till the grave?--where is
+the definite barrier of that ambition which, like the eastern bird,
+seems ever on the wing, and never rests upon the earth?  Our names are
+not settled till our death: the ghosts of what we have done are made our
+haunting monitors--our scourging avengers--if ever we cease to do, or
+fall short of the younger past.  Repose is oblivion; to pause is to
+unravel all the web that we have woven--until the tomb closes over us,
+and men, just when it is too late, strike the fair balance between
+ourselves and our rivals; and we are measured, not by the least, but by
+the greatest triumphs we have achieved.  Oh, what a crushing sense of
+impotence comes over us, when we feel that our frame cannot support our
+mind--when the hand can no longer execute what the soul, actively as
+ever, conceives and desires!--the quick life tied to the dead form--the
+ideas fresh as immortality, gushing forth rich and golden, and the
+broken nerves, and the aching frame, and the weary eyes!--the spirit
+athirst for liberty and heaven--and the damning, choking consciousness
+that we are walled up and prisoned in a dungeon that must be our
+burial-place!  Talk not of freedom--there is no such thing as freedom to
+a man whose body is the gaol, whose infirmities are the racks, of his
+genius!
+
+Maltravers paused at last, and threw himself on his sofa, wearied and
+exhausted.  Involuntarily, and as a half unconscious means of escaping
+from his conflicting and profitless emotions, he turned to several
+letters, which had for hours lain unopened on his table.  Every one, the
+seal of which he broke, seemed to mock his state--every one seemed to
+attest the felicity of his fortunes.  Some bespoke the admiring sympathy
+of the highest and wisest--one offered him a brilliant opening into
+public life--another (it was from Cleveland) was fraught with all the
+proud and rapturous approbation of a prophet whose auguries are at last
+fulfilled.  At that letter Maltravers sighed deeply, and paused before
+he turned to the others.  The last he opened was in an unknown hand, nor
+was any name affixed to it.  Like all writers of some note, Maltravers
+was in the habit of receiving anonymous letters of praise, censure,
+warning, and exhortation--especially from young ladies at boarding
+schools, and old ladies in the country; but there was that in the first
+sentences of the letter, which he now opened with a careless hand, that
+riveted his attention.  It was a small and beautiful handwriting, yet
+the letters were more clear and bold than they usually are in feminine
+caligraphy.
+
+"Ernest Maltravers," began this singular effusion, "have you weighed
+yourself?  Are you aware of your capacities?  Do you feel that for you
+there may be a more dazzling reputation that that which appears to
+content you?  You who seem to penetrate into the subtlest windings of
+the human heart, and to have examined nature as through a glass--you,
+whose thoughts stand forth like armies marshalled in defence of truth,
+bold and dauntless, and without a stain upon their glittering
+armour;--are you, at your age, and with your advantages, to bury
+yourself amidst books and scrolls?  Do you forget that action is the
+grand career for men who think as you do?  Will this word-weighing and
+picture-writing--the cold eulogies of pedants--the listless praises of
+literary idlers, content all the yearnings of your ambition?  You were
+not made solely for the closet; 'The Dreams of Pindus, and the Aonian
+Maids' cannot endure through the noon of manhood.  You are too practical
+for the mere poet, and too poetical to sink into the dull tenor of a
+learned life.  I have never seen you, yet I know you--I read your spirit
+in your page; that aspiration for something better and greater than the
+great and the good, which colours all your passionate revelations of
+yourself and others--cannot be satisfied merely by ideal images.  You
+cannot be contented, as poets and historians mostly are, by becoming
+great only from delineating great men, or imagining great events, or
+describing a great era.  Is it not worthier of you to be what you fancy
+or relate?  Awake, Maltravers, awake!  Look into your heart, and feel
+your proper destinies.  And who am I that thus address you?--a woman
+whose soul is filled with you--a woman in whom your eloquence has
+awakened, amidst frivolous and vain circles, the sense of a new
+existence--a woman who would make you, yourself, the embodied ideal of
+your own thoughts and dreams, and who would ask from earth no other lot
+than that of following you on the road of fame with the eyes of her
+heart.  Mistake me not; I repeat that I have never seen you, nor do I
+wish it; you might be other than I imagine, and I should lose an idol,
+and be left without a worship.  I am a kind of visionary Rosicrucian: it
+is a spirit that I adore, and not a being like myself.  You imagine,
+perhaps, that I have some purpose to serve in this--I have no object in
+administering to your vanity; and if I judge you rightly, this letter is
+one that might make you vain without a blush.  Oh, the admiration that
+does not spring from holy and profound sources of emotion--how it
+saddens us or disgusts!  I have had my share of vulgar homage, and it
+only makes me feel doubly alone.  I am richer than you are--I have
+youth--I have what they call beauty.  And neither riches, youth, nor
+beauty ever gave me the silent and deep happiness I experience when I
+think of you.  This is a worship that might, I repeat, well make even
+you vain.  Think of these words, I implore you.  Be worthy, not of my
+thoughts, but of the shape in which they represent you: and every ray of
+glory that surrounds you will brighten my own way, and inspire me with a
+kindred emulation.  Farewell.--I may write to you again, but you will
+never discover me; and in life I pray that we may never meet!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+  "Our list of nobles next let Amri grace."
+               /Absalom and Achitophel.
+
+  "Sine me vacivum tempus ne quod dem mihi Laboris."*--TER.
+
+* Suffer me to employ my spare time in some kind of labour.
+
+"I CAN'T think," said one of a group of young men, loitering by the
+steps of a clubhouse in St. James's Street--"I can't think what has
+chanced to Maltravers.  Do you observe (as he walks--there--the other
+side of the way) how much he is altered?  He stoops like an old man, and
+hardly ever lifts his eyes from the ground.  He certainly seems sick and
+sad."
+
+"Writing books, I suppose."
+
+"Or privately married."
+
+"Or growing too rich--rich men are always unhappy beings."
+
+"Ha, Ferrers, how are you?"
+
+"So-so.  What's the news?" replied Lumley.
+
+"Rattler pays forfeit."
+
+"O! but in politics?"
+
+"Hang politics--are you turned politician?"
+
+"At my age, what else is there left to do?"
+
+"I thought so, by your hat; all politicians sport odd-looking hats: it
+is very remarkable, but that is the great symptom of the disease."
+
+"My hat!--/is/ it odd?" said Ferrers, taking off the commodity in
+question, and seriously regarding it.
+
+"Why, who ever saw such a brim?"
+
+"Glad you think so."
+
+"Why, Ferrers?"
+
+"Because it is a prudent policy in this country to surrender something
+trifling up to ridicule.  If people can abuse your hat or your carriage,
+or the shape of your nose, or a wart on your chin, they let slip a
+thousand more important matters.  'Tis the wisdom of the camel-driver,
+who gives up his gown for the camel to trample on, that he may escape
+himself."
+
+"How droll you are, Ferrers!  Well, I shall turn in, and read the
+papers; and you--"
+
+"Shall pay my visits and rejoice in my hat."
+
+"Good day to you; by the by, your friend, Maltravers, has just passed,
+looking thoughtful, and talking to himself.  What's the matter with
+him?"
+
+"Lamenting, perhaps, that he, too, does not wear an odd hat for
+gentlemen like you to laugh at, and leave the rest of him in peace.
+Good day."
+
+On went Ferrers, and soon found himself in the Mall of the Park.  Here
+he was joined by Mr. Templeton.
+
+"Well, Lumley," said the latter (and it may be here remarked that Mr.
+Templeton now exhibited towards his nephew a greater respect of manner
+and tone than he had thought it necessary to observe before)--"well,
+Lumley, and have you seen Lord Saxingham?"
+
+"I have, sir; and I regret to say--"
+
+"I thought so--I thought it," interrupted Templeton: "no gratitude in
+public men--no wish, in high place, to honour virtue!"
+
+"Pardon me; Lord Saxingham declares that he should be delighted to
+forward your views--that no man more deserves a peerage; but that--"
+
+"Oh, yes; always /buts/!"
+
+"But that there are so many claimants at present whom it is impossible
+to satisfy; and--and--but I feel I ought not to go on."
+
+"Proceed, sir, I beg."
+
+"Why, then, Lord Saxingham is (I must be frank) a man who has a great
+regard for his own family.  Your marriage (a source, my dear uncle, of
+the greatest gratification to /me/) cuts off the probable chance of your
+fortune and title, if you acquire the latter, descending to--"
+
+"Yourself!" put in Templeton, drily.  "Your relation seems, for the
+first time, to have discovered how dear your interests are to him."
+
+"For me, individually, sir, my relation does not care a rush--but he
+cares a great deal for any member of his house being rich and in high
+station.  It increases the range and credit of his connections; and Lord
+Saxingham is a man whom connections help to keep great.  To be plain
+with you, he will not stir in this business, because he does not see how
+his kinsman is to be benefited, or his house strengthened."
+
+"Public virtue!" exclaimed Templeton.
+
+"Virtue, my dear uncle, is a female: as long as she is private property,
+she is excellent; but public virtue, like any other public lady, is a
+common prostitute."
+
+"Pshaw!" grunted Templeton, who was too much out of humour to read his
+nephew the lecture he might otherwise have done upon the impropriety of
+his simile; for Mr. Templeton was one of those men who hold it vicious
+to talk of vice as existing in the world; he was very much shocked to
+hear anything called by its proper name.
+
+"Has not Mrs. Templeton some connections that may be useful to you?"
+
+"No, sir!" cried the uncle, in a voice of thunder.
+
+"Sorry to hear it--but we cannot expect all things: you have married for
+love--you have a happy home, a charming wife--this is better than a
+title and a fine lady."
+
+"Mr. Lumley Ferrers, you may spare me your consolations.  My wife--"
+
+"Loves you dearly, I dare say," said the imperturbable nephew.  "She has
+so much sentiment, is so fond of poetry.  Oh, yes, she must love one who
+has done so much for her."
+
+"Done so much; what do you mean?"
+
+"Why, with your fortune--your station--your just ambition--you, who
+might have married any one; nay, by remaining unmarried, have
+conciliated all my interested, selfish relations--hang them--you have
+married a lady without connections--and what more could you do for her?"
+
+"Pooh, pooh; you don't know all."
+
+Here Templeton stopped short, as if about to say too much, and frowned;
+then, after a pause, he resumed, "Lumley, I have married, it is true.
+You may not be my heir, but I will make it up to you--that is, if you
+deserve my affection."
+
+"My dear unc--"
+
+"Don't interrupt me, I have projects for you.  Let our interests be the
+same.  The title may yet descend to you.  I may have no male
+offspring--meanwhile, draw on me to any reasonable amount--young men
+have expenses--but be prudent, and if you want to get on in the world,
+never let the world detect you in a scrape.  There, leave me now."
+
+"My best, my heartfelt thanks!"
+
+"Hush--sound Lord Saxingham again; I must and will have this bauble--I
+have set my heart on it."  So saying, Templeton waved away his nephew,
+and musingly pursued his path towards Hyde Park Corner, where his
+carriage awaited him.  As soon as he entered his demesnes, he saw his
+wife's daughter running across the lawn to greet him.  His heart
+softened; he checked the carriage and descended: he caressed her, he
+played with her, he laughed as she laughed.  No parent could be more
+fond.
+
+"Lumley Ferrers has talent to do me honour," said he, anxiously, "but
+his principles seem unstable.  However, surely that open manner is the
+sign of a good heart."
+
+Meanwhile, Ferrers, in high spirits, took his way to Ernest's house.
+His friend was not at home, but Ferrers never wanted a host's presence
+in order to be at home himself.  Books were round him in abundance, but
+Ferrers was not one of those who read for amusement.  He threw himself
+into an easy-chair, and began weaving new meshes of ambition and
+intrigue.  At length the door opened, and Maltravers entered.
+
+"Why, Ernest, how ill you are looking!"
+
+"I have not been well, but I am now recovering.  As physicians recommend
+change of air to ordinary patients--so I am about to try change of
+habit.  Active I must be--action is the condition of my being; but I
+must have done with books from the present.  You see me in a new
+character."
+
+"How?"
+
+"That of a public man--I have entered parliament."
+
+"You astonish me!--I have read the papers this morning.  I see not even
+a vacancy, much less an election."
+
+"It is all managed by the lawyer and the banker.  In other words, my
+seat is a close borough."
+
+"No bore of constituents.  I congratulate you, and envy.  I wish I were
+in parliament myself."
+
+"You!  I never fancied you bitten by the political mania."
+
+"Political!--no.  But it is the most respectable way, with luck, of
+living on the public.  Better than swindling."
+
+"A candid way of viewing the question.  But I thought at one time you
+were half a Benthamite, and that your motto was, 'The greatest happiness
+of the greatest number.'"
+
+"The greatest number to me is number /one/.  I agree with the
+Pythagoreans--unity is the perfect principle of creation!  Seriously,
+how can you mistake the principles of opinion for the principles of
+conduct?  I am a Benthamite, a benevolist, as a logician--but the moment
+I leave the closet for the world, I lay aside speculation for others,
+and act for myself."
+
+"You are, at least, more frank than prudent in these confessions."
+
+"There you are wrong.  It is by affecting to be worse than we are that
+we become popular--and we get credit for being both honest and practical
+fellows.  My uncle's mistake is to be a hypocrite in words: it rarely
+answers.  Be frank in words, and nobody will suspect hypocrisy in your
+designs."
+
+Maltravers gazed hard at Ferrers--something revolted and displeased his
+high-wrought Platonism in the easy wisdom of his old friend.  But he
+felt, almost for the first time, that Ferrers was a man to get on in the
+world--and he sighed; I hope it was for the world's sake.
+
+After a short conversation on indifferent matters, Cleveland was
+announced; and Ferrers, who could make nothing out of Cleveland, soon
+withdrew.  Ferrers was now becoming an economist in his time.
+
+"My dear Maltravers," said Cleveland, when they were alone, "I am so
+glad to see you; for, in the first place, I rejoice to find you are
+extending your career of usefulness."
+
+"Usefulness--ah, let me think so!  Life is so uncertain and so short,
+that we cannot too soon bring the little it can yield into the great
+commonwealth of the Beautiful or the Honest; and both belong to and make
+up the Useful.  But in politics, and in a highly artificial state, what
+doubts beset us! what darkness surrounds!  If we connive at abuses, we
+juggle with our own reason and integrity--if we attack them, how much,
+how fatally we may derange that solemn and conventional ORDER which is
+the mainspring of the vast machine!  How little, too, can one man, whose
+talents may not be in that coarse road--in that mephitic atmosphere, be
+enabled to effect!"
+
+"He may effect a vast deal even without eloquence or labour:--he may
+effect a vast deal, if he can set one example, amidst a crowd of selfish
+aspirants and heated fanatics, of an honest and dispassionate man.  He
+may effect more, if he may serve among the representatives of that
+hitherto unrepresented thing--Literature; if he redeem, by an ambition
+above place and emolument, the character for subservience that
+court-poets have obtained for letters--if he may prove that speculative
+knowledge is not disjoined from the practical world, and maintain the
+dignity of disinterestedness that should belong to learning.  But the
+end of a scientific morality is not to serve others only, but also to
+perfect and accomplish our individual selves; our own souls are a solemn
+trust to our own lives.  You are about to add to your experience of
+human motives and active men; and whatever additional wisdom you acquire
+will become equally evident and equally useful, no matter whether it be
+communicated through action or in books.  Enough of this, my dear
+Ernest.  I have come to dine with you, and make you accompany me
+to-night to a house where you will be welcome, and I think interested.
+Nay, no excuses.  I have promised Lord Latimer that he shall make your
+acquaintance, and he is one of the most eminent men with whom political
+life will connect you."
+
+And to this change of habits, from the closet to the senate, had
+Maltravers been induced by a state of health, which, with most men,
+would have been an excuse for indolence.  Indolent he could not be; he
+had truly said to Ferrers, that "action was the condition of his being."
+If THOUGHT, with its fever and aching tension, had been too severe a
+taskmaster on the nerves and brain, the coarse and homely pursuit of
+practical politics would leave the imagination and intellect in repose,
+while it would excite the hardier qualities and gifts, which animate
+without exhausting.  So, at least, hoped Maltravers.  He remembered the
+profound saying in one of his favourite German authors, "that to keep
+the mind and body in perfect health, it is necessary to mix habitually
+and betimes in the common affairs of men."  And the anonymous
+correspondent;--had her exhortations any influence on his decision?  I
+know not.  But when Cleveland left him, Maltravers unlocked his desk,
+and re-perused the last letter he had received from the Unknown.  The
+/last/ letter!--yes, those epistles had now become frequent.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+  *  *  *  *  "Le brillant de votre esprit donne un si grand
+   eclat a votre teint et a vos yeux, que quoiqu'il semble
+   que l'esprit ne doit toucher que les oreilles, il est
+   pourtaut certain que la votre eblouit les yeux."*
+               /Lettres de Madame de Sevigne/.
+
+* The brilliancy of your wit gives so great a lustre to your complexion
+and your eyes, that, though it seems that wit should only reach the
+ears, it is altogether certain that yours dazzles the eyes.
+
+AT Lord Latimer's house were assembled some hundreds of those persons
+who are rarely found together in London society; for business, politics,
+and literature draught off the most eminent men, and usually leave to
+houses that receive the world little better than indolent rank or
+ostentatious wealth.  Even the young men of pleasure turn up their noses
+at parties now-a-days, and find society a bore.  But there are some
+dozen or two of houses, the owners of which are both apart from and
+above the fashion, in which a foreigner may see, collected under the
+same roof, many of the most remarkable men of busy, thoughtful, majestic
+England.  Lord Latimer himself had been a cabinet minister.  He retired
+from public life on pretence of ill-health; but, in reality, because its
+anxious bustle was not congenial to a gentle and accomplished, but
+somewhat feeble, mind.  With a high reputation and an excellent cook he
+enjoyed a great popularity, both with his own party and the world in
+general; and he was the centre of a small, but distinguished circle of
+acquaintances, who drank Latimer's wine, and quoted Latimer's sayings,
+and liked Latimer much better, because, not being author or minister, he
+was not in their way.
+
+Lord Latimer received Maltravers with marked courtesy, and even
+deference, and invited him to join his own whist-table, which was one of
+the highest compliments his lordship could pay to his intellect.  But
+when his guest refused the proffered honour, the earl turned him over to
+the countess, as having become the property of the womankind; and was
+soon immersed in his aspirations for the odd trick.
+
+Whilst Maltravers was conversing with Lady Latimer, he happened to raise
+his eyes, and saw opposite to him a young lady of such remarkable
+beauty, that he could scarcely refrain from an admiring
+exclamation.--"And who," he asked, recovering himself, "is that lady?
+It is strange that even I, who go so little into the world, should be
+compelled to inquire the name of one whose beauty must already have made
+her celebrated."
+
+"Oh, Lady Florence Lascelles--she came out last year.  She is, indeed,
+most brilliant, yet more so in mind and accomplishments than face.  I
+must be allowed to introduce you."
+
+At this offer, a strange shyness, and as it were reluctant distrust,
+seized Maltravers--a kind of presentiment of danger and evil.  He drew
+back, and would have made some excuse, but Lady Latimer did not heed his
+embarrassment, and was already by the side of Lady Florence Lascelles.
+A moment more, and beckoning to Maltravers, the countess presented him
+to the lady.  As he bowed and seated himself beside his new
+acquaintance, he could not but observe that her cheeks were suffused
+with the most lively blushes, and that she received him with a confusion
+not common even in ladies just brought out, and just introduced to "a
+lion."  He was rather puzzled than flattered by these tokens of an
+embarrassment, somewhat akin to his own; and the first few sentences of
+their conversation passed off with a certain awkwardness and reserve.
+At this moment, to the surprise, perhaps to the relief, of Ernest, they
+were joined by Lumley Ferrers.
+
+"Ah, Lady Florence, I kiss your hands--I am charmed to find you
+acquainted with my friend Maltravers."
+
+"And Mr. Ferrers, what makes him so late to-night?" asked the fair
+Florence, with a sudden ease, which rather startled Maltravers.
+
+"A dull dinner, /voila tout/--I have no other excuse."  And Ferrers,
+sliding into a vacant chair on the other side of Lady Florence,
+conversed volubly and unceasingly, as if seeking to monopolise her
+attention.
+
+Ernest had not been so much captivated with the manner of Florence as he
+had been struck with her beauty, and now, seeing her apparently engaged
+with another, he rose and quietly moved away.  He was soon one of a knot
+of men who were conversing on the absorbing topics of the day; and as by
+degrees the exciting subject brought out his natural eloquence and
+masculine sense, the talkers became listeners, the knot widened into a
+circle, and he himself was unconsciously the object of general attention
+and respect.
+
+"And what think you of Mr. Maltravers?" asked Ferrers, carelessly; "does
+he keep up your expectations?"
+
+Lady Florence had sunk into a reverie, and Ferrers repeated his
+question.
+
+"He is younger than I imagined him,--and--and--"
+
+"Handsomer, I suppose, you mean."
+
+"No! calmer and less animated."
+
+"He seems animated enough now," said Ferrers; "but your ladylike
+conversation failed in striking the Promethean spark.  'Lay that
+flattering unction to your soul.'"
+
+"Ah, you are right--he must have thought me very--"
+
+"Beautiful, no doubt."
+
+"Beautiful!--I hate the word, Lumley.  I wish I were not handsome--I
+might then get some credit for my intellect."
+
+"Humph!" said Ferrers, significantly.
+
+"Oh, you don't think so, sceptic," said Florence, shaking her head with
+a slight laugh, and an altered manner.
+
+"Does it matter what I think," said Ferrers, with an attempted touch at
+the sentimental, "when Lord This, and Lord That, and Mr. So-and-so, and
+Count What-d'ye-call-him, are all making their way to you, to dispossess
+me of my envied monopoly?"
+
+While Ferrers spoke, several of the scattered loungers grouped around
+Florence, and the conversation, of which she was the cynosure, became
+animated and gay.  Oh, how brilliant she was, that peerless
+Florence!--with what petulant and sparkling grace came wit and wisdom,
+and even genius, from those ruby lips!  Even the assured Ferrers felt
+his subtle intellect as dull and coarse to hers, and shrank with a
+reluctant apprehension from the arrows of her careless and prodigal
+repartees.  For there was a scorn in the nature of Florence Lascelles
+which made her wit pain more frequently than it pleased.  Educated even
+to learning--courageous even to a want of feminacy--she delighted to
+sport with ignorance and pretension, even in the highest places; and the
+laugh that she excited was like lightning;--no one could divine where
+next it might fall.
+
+But Florence, though dreaded and unloved, was yet courted, flattered,
+and the rage.  For this there were two reasons: first, she was a
+coquette, and secondly, she was an heiress.
+
+Thus the talkers in the room were divided into two principal groups,
+over one of which Maltravers may be said to have presided; over the
+other, Florence.  As the former broke up, Ernest was joined by
+Cleveland.
+
+"My dear cousin," said Florence, suddenly, and in a whisper, as she
+turned to Lumley, "your friend is speaking of me--I see it.  Go, I
+implore you, and let me know what he says!"
+
+"The commission is not flattering," said Ferrers, almost sullenly.
+
+"Nay, a commission to gratify a woman's curiosity is ever one of the
+most flattering embassies with which we can invest an able negotiator."
+
+"Well, I must do your bidding, though I disown the favour."  Ferrers
+moved away, and joined Cleveland and Maltravers.
+
+"She is, indeed, beautiful: so perfect a contour I never beheld: she is
+the only woman I ever saw in whom the aquiline features seem more
+classical than even the Greek."
+
+"So, that is your opinion of my fair cousin!" cried Ferrers, "you are
+caught."
+
+"I wish he were," said Cleveland.  "Ernest is now old enough to settle,
+and there is not a more dazzling prize in England--rich, high-born,
+lovely, and accomplished."
+
+"And what say you?" asked Lumley, almost impatiently, to Maltravers.
+
+"That I never saw one whom I admire more or could love less," replied
+Ernest, as he quitted the rooms.
+
+Ferrers looked after him, and muttered to himself; he then rejoined
+Florence, who presently rose to depart, and taking Lumley's arm, said,
+"Well, I see my father is looking round for me--and so for once I will
+forestall him.  Come, Lumley, let us join him; I know he wants to see
+you.
+
+"Well?" said Florence, blushing deeply, and almost breathless, as they
+crossed the now half-empty apartments.
+
+"Well, my cousin?"
+
+"You provoke me--well, then, what said your friend?"
+
+"That you deserved your reputation of beauty, but that you were not his
+style.  Maltravers is in love, you know."
+
+"In love?"
+
+"Yes, a pretty Frenchwoman! quite romantic--an attachment of some years'
+standing."
+
+Florence turned away her face, and said no more.
+
+"That's a good fellow, Lumley," said Lord Saxingham; "Florence is never
+more welcome to my eyes than at half-past one o'clock A.M., when I
+associate her with thoughts of my natural rest, and my unfortunate
+carriage-horses.  By the by, I wish you would dine with me next
+Saturday."
+
+"Saturday: unfortunately I am engaged to my uncle."
+
+"Oh! he has behaved handsomely to you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Mrs. Templeton pretty well?"
+
+"I fancy so."
+
+"As ladies wish to be, etc.?" whispered his lordship.
+
+"No, thank Heaven!"
+
+"Well, if the old man could but make you his heir, we might think twice
+about the title."
+
+"My dear lord, stop! one favour--write me a line to hint that
+delicately."
+
+"No--no letters; letters always get into the papers."
+
+"But cautiously worded--no danger of publication, on my honour."
+
+"I'll think of it.  Good night."
+
+
+
+BOOK VII.
+
+  Every man should strive to be as good as possible, but not
+  suppose himself to be the only thing that is good.
+               --PLOTIN. EN. 11. lib. ix. c. 9.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+  "Deceit is the strong but subtle chain which runs through
+   all the members of a society, and links them together;
+   trick or be tricked is the alternative; 'tis the way of
+   the world, and without it intercourse would drop."
+               /Anonymous writer/ of 1722.
+
+  "A lovely child she was, of looks serene,
+   And motions which o'er things indifferent shed
+   The grace and gentleness from whence they came."
+               PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
+
+  "His years but young, but his experience old."--SHAKESPEARE.
+
+  "He after honour hunts, I after love."--/Ibid./
+
+LUMLEY FERRERS was one of the few men in the world who act upon a
+profound, deliberate, and organized system--he had done so even from a
+boy.  When he was twenty-one, he had said to himself, "Youth is the
+season for enjoyment: the triumphs of manhood, the wealth of age, do not
+compensate for a youth spent in unpleasurable toils."  Agreeably to this
+maxim, he had resolved not to adopt any profession; and being fond of
+travel, and of a restless temper, he had indulged abroad in all the
+gratifications that his moderate income could afford him: that income
+went farther on the Continent than at home, which was another reason for
+the prolongation of his travels.  Now, when the whims and passions of
+youth were sated; and, ripened by a consummate and various knowledge of
+mankind, his harder capacities of mind became developed and centred into
+such ambition as it was his nature to conceive, he acted no less upon a
+regular and methodical plan of conduct, which he carried into details.
+He had little or nothing within himself to cross his cold theories by
+contradictory practice; for he was curbed by no principles and regulated
+but by few tastes: and our tastes are often checks as powerful as our
+principles.  Looking round the English world, Ferrers saw, that at his
+age and with an equivocal position, and no chances to throw away, it was
+necessary that he should cast off all attributes of the character of the
+wanderer and the /garcon/.
+
+"There is nothing respectable in lodgings and a cab," said Ferrers to
+himself--that "/self/" was his grand confidant!--"nothing stationary.
+Such are the appliances of a here-to-day-gone-to-morrow kind of life.
+One never looks substantial till one pays rates and taxes, and has a
+bill with one's butcher!"
+
+Accordingly, without saying a word to anybody, Ferrers took a long lease
+of a large house, in one of those quiet streets that proclaim the owners
+do not wish to be made by fashionable situations--streets in which, if
+you have a large house, it is supposed to be because you can afford one.
+He was very particular in its being a respectable street--Great George
+Street, Westminster, was the one he selected.
+
+No frippery or baubles, common to the mansions of young bachelors--no
+buhl, and marquetrie, and Sevres china, and cabinet pictures,
+distinguished the large dingy drawing-rooms of Lumley Ferrers.  He
+bought all the old furniture a bargain of the late tenant--tea-coloured
+chintz curtains, and chairs and sofas that were venerable and solemn
+with the accumulated dust of twenty-five years.  The only things about
+which he was particular were a very long dining-table that would hold
+four-and-twenty, and a new mahogany sideboard.  Somebody asked him why
+he cared about such articles.  "I don't know," said he "but I observe
+all respectable family-men do--there must be something in it--I shall
+discover the secret by and by."
+
+In this house did Mr. Ferrers ensconce himself with two middle-aged
+maidservants, and a man out of livery, whom he chose from a multitude of
+candidates, because the man looked especially well fed.  Having thus
+settled himself, and told every one that the lease of his house was for
+sixty-three years, Lumley Ferrers made a little calculation of his
+probable expenditure, which he found, with good management, might amount
+to about one-fourth more than his income.
+
+"I shall take the surplus out of my capital," said he, "and try the
+experiment for five years; if it don't do, and pay me profitably, why,
+then either men are not to be lived upon, or Lumley Ferrers is a much
+duller clog than he thinks himself!"
+
+Mr. Ferrers had deeply studied the character of his uncle, as a prudent
+speculator studies the qualities of a mine in which he means to invest
+his capital, and much of his present proceedings was intended to act
+upon the uncle as well as upon the world.  He saw that the more he could
+obtain for himself, not a noisy, social, fashionable reputation, but a
+good, sober, substantial one, the more highly Mr. Templeton would
+consider him, and the more likely he was to be made his uncle's
+heir,--that is, provided Mrs. Templeton did not supersede the nepotal
+parasite by indigenous olive-branches.  This last apprehension died away
+as time passed, and no signs of fertility appeared.  And, accordingly,
+Ferrers thought he might prudently hazard more upon the game on which he
+now ventured to rely.  There was one thing, however, that greatly
+disturbed his peace; Mr. Templeton, though harsh and austere in his
+manner to his wife, was evidently attached to her; and, above all, he
+cherished the fondest affection for his stepdaughter.  He was as anxious
+for her health, her education, her little childish enjoyments, as if he
+had been not only her parent, but a very doting one.  He could not bear
+her to be crossed or thwarted.  Mr. Templeton, who had never spoiled
+anything before, not even an old pen (so careful, and calculating, and
+methodical was he), did his best to spoil this beautiful child whom he
+could not even have the vain luxury of thinking he had produced to the
+admiring world.  Softly, exquisitely lovely was that little girl; and
+every day she increased in the charm of her person, and in the caressing
+fascination of her childish ways.  Her temper was so sweet and docile,
+that fondness and petting, however injudiciously exhibited, only seemed
+yet more to bring out the colours of a grateful and tender nature.
+Perhaps the measured kindness of more reserved affection might have been
+the true way of spoiling one whose instincts were all for exacting and
+returning love.  She was a plant that suns less warm might have nipped
+and chilled.  But beneath an uncapricious and unclouded sunshine she
+sprang up in a luxurious bloom of heart and sweetness of disposition.
+
+Every one, even those who did not generally like children, delighted in
+this charming creature, excepting only Mr. Lumley Ferrers.  But that
+gentleman, less mild than Pope's Narcissa,--
+
+     "To make a wash, had gladly stewed the child!"
+
+He had seen how very common it is for a rich man, married late in life,
+to leave everything to a young widow and her children by her former
+marriage, when once attached to the latter; and he sensibly felt that he
+himself had but a slight hold over Templeton by the chain of the
+affections.  He resolved, therefore, as much as possible, to alienate
+his uncle from his young wife; trusting that, as the influence of the
+wife was weakened, that of the child would be lessened also; and to
+raise in Templeton's vanity and ambition an ally that might supply to
+himself the want of love.  He pursued his twofold scheme with masterly
+art and address.  He first sought to secure the confidence and regard of
+the melancholy and gentle mother; and in this--for she was peculiarly
+unsuspicious and inexperienced, he obtained signal and complete success.
+His frankness of manner, his deferential attention, the art with which
+he warded off from her the spleen or ill-humour of Mr. Templeton, the
+cheerfulness that his easy gaiety threw over a very gloomy house, made
+the poor lady hail his visits and trust in his friendship.  Perhaps she
+was glad of any interruption to /tetes-a-tetes/ with a severe and
+ungenial husband, who had no sympathy for the sorrows, of whatever
+nature they might be, which preyed upon her, and who made it a point of
+morality to find fault wherever he could.
+
+The next step in Lumley's policy was to arm Templeton's vanity against
+his wife, by constantly refreshing his consciousness of the sacrifices
+he had made by marriage, and the certainty that he would have attained
+all his wishes had he chosen more prudently.  By perpetually, but most
+judiciously, rubbing this sore point, he, as it were, fixed the
+irritability into Templeton's constitution, and it reacted on all his
+thoughts, aspiring or domestic.  Still, however, to Lumley's great
+surprise and resentment, while Templeton cooled to his wife, he only
+warmed to her child.  Lumley had not calculated enough upon the thirst
+and craving for affection in most human hearts; and Templeton, though
+not exactly an amiable man, had some excellent qualities; if he had less
+sensitively regarded the opinion of the world, he would neither have
+contracted the vocabulary of cant, nor sickened for a peerage--both his
+affectation of saintship, and his gnawing desire of rank, arose from an
+extraordinary and morbid deference to opinion, and a wish for worldly
+honours and respect, which he felt that his mere talents could not
+secure to him.  But he was, at bottom, a kindly man--charitable to the
+poor, considerate to his servants, and had within him the want to love
+and be loved, which is one of the desires wherewith the atoms of the
+universe are cemented and harmonised. Had Mrs. Templeton evinced love to
+him, he might have defied all Lumley's diplomacy, been consoled for
+worldly disadvantages, and been a good and even uxorious husband.  But
+she evidently did not love him, though an admirable, patient, provident
+wife; and her daughter /did/ love him--love him as well even as she
+loved her mother; and the hard worldling would not have accepted a
+kingdom as the price of that little fountain of pure and ever-refreshing
+tenderness.  Wise and penetrating as Lumley was, he never could
+thoroughly understand this weakness, as he called it; for we never know
+men entirely, unless we have complete sympathies with men in all their
+natural emotions; and Nature had left the workmanship of Lumley Ferrers
+unfinished and incomplete, by denying him the possibility of caring for
+anything but himself.
+
+His plan for winning Templeton's esteem and deference was, however,
+completely triumphant.  He took care that nothing in his /menage/ should
+appear "/extravagant/;"  all was sober, quiet, and well-regulated.  He
+declared that he had so managed as to live within his income: and
+Templeton receiving no hint for money, nor aware that Ferrers had on the
+Continent consumed a considerable portion of his means, believed him.
+Ferrers gave a great many dinners, but he did not go on that foolish
+plan which has been laid down by persons who pretend to know life, as a
+means of popularity--he did not profess to give dinners better than
+other people.  He knew that, unless you are a very rich or a very great
+man, no folly is equal to that of thinking that you soften the hearts of
+your friends by soups /a la bisque/, and Johannisberg at a guinea a
+bottle.  They all go away saying, "What right has that d----d fellow to
+give a better dinner than we do?  What horrid taste!  What ridiculous
+presumption."
+
+No; though Ferrers himself was a most scientific epicure, and held the
+luxury of the palate at the highest possible price, he dieted his
+friends on what he termed "respectable fare."  His cook put plenty of
+flour into the oyster sauce; cod's head and shoulders made his
+invariable fish; and four /entrees/, without flavour or pretence, were
+duly supplied by the pastry-cook, and carefully eschewed by the host.
+Neither did Mr. Ferrers affect to bring about him gay wits and brilliant
+talkers.  He confined himself to men of substantial consideration, and
+generally took care to be himself the cleverest person present; while he
+turned the conversation on serious matters crammed for the
+occasion--politics, stocks, commerce, and the criminal code.  Pruning
+his gaiety, though he retained his frankness, he sought to be known as a
+highly-informed, painstaking man, who would be sure to rise.  His
+connections, and a certain nameless charm about him, consisting chiefly
+in a pleasant countenance, a bold yet winning candour, and the absence
+of all /hauteur/ or pretence, enabled him to assemble round this plain
+table, which, if it gratified no taste, wounded no self-love, a
+sufficient number of public men of rank, and eminent men of business, to
+answer his purpose.  The situation he had chosen, so near the Houses of
+Parliament, was convenient to politicians, and, by degrees, the large
+dingy drawing-rooms became a frequent resort for public men to talk over
+those thousand underplots by which a party is served or attached.  Thus,
+though not in parliament himself, Ferrers became insensibly associated
+with parliamentary men and things, and the ministerial party, whose
+politics he espoused, praised him highly, made use of him, and meant,
+some day or other, to do something for him.
+
+While the career of this able and unprincipled man thus opened--and of
+course the opening was not made in a day--Ernest Maltravers was
+ascending by a rough, thorny, and encumbered path, to that eminence on
+which the monuments of men are built.  His success in public life was
+not brilliant nor sudden.  For, though he had eloquence and knowledge,
+he disdained all oratorical devices; and though he had passion and
+energy, he could scarcely be called a warm partisan.  He met with much
+envy, and many obstacles; and the gracious and buoyant sociality of
+temper and manners that had, in early youth, made him the idol of his
+contemporaries at school or college, had long since faded away into a
+cold, settled, and lofty, though gentle reserve, which did not attract
+towards him the animal spirits of the herd.  But though he spoke seldom,
+and heard many, with half his powers, more enthusiastically cheered, he
+did not fail of commanding attention and respect; and though no darling
+of cliques and parties, yet in that great body of the people who were
+ever the audience and tribunal to which, in letters or in politics,
+Maltravers appealed, there was silently growing up, and spreading wide,
+a belief in his upright intentions, his unpurchasable honour, and his
+correct and well-considered views.  He felt that his name was safely
+invested, though the return for the capital was slow and moderate.  He
+was contented to abide his time.
+
+Every day he grew more attached to that true philosophy which makes a
+man, as far as the world will permit, a world to himself; and from the
+height of a tranquil and serene self-esteem, he felt the sun shine above
+him, when malignant clouds spread sullen and ungenial below.  He did not
+despise or wilfully shock opinion, neither did he fawn upon and flatter
+it.  Where he thought the world should be humoured, he humoured--where
+contemned, he contemned it.  There are many cases in which an honest,
+well-educated, high-hearted individual is a much better judge than the
+multitude of what is right and what is wrong; and in these matters he is
+not worth three straws if he suffer the multitude to bully or coax him
+out of his judgment.  The Public, if you indulge it, is a most damnable
+gossip, thrusting its nose into people's concerns, where it has no right
+to make or meddle; and in those things, where the Public is impertinent,
+Maltravers scorned and resisted its interference as haughtily as he
+would the interference of any insolent member of the insolent whole.  It
+was this mixture of deep love and profound respect for the eternal
+PEOPLE, and of calm, passionless disdain for that capricious charlatan,
+the momentary PUBLIC, which made Ernest Maltravers an original and
+solitary thinker; and an actor, in reality modest and benevolent, in
+appearance arrogant and unsocial.  "Pauperism, in contradistinction to
+poverty," he was wont to say, "is the dependence upon other people for
+existence, not on our own exertions; there is a moral pauperism in the
+man who is dependent on others for that support of moral
+life--self-respect."
+
+Wrapped in this philosophy, he pursued his haughty and lonesome way, and
+felt that in the deep heart of mankind, when prejudices and envies
+should die off, there would be a sympathy with his motives and his
+career.  So far as his own health was concerned, the experiment had
+answered.  No mere drudgery of business--late hours and dull
+speeches--can produce the dread exhaustion which follows the efforts of
+the soul to mount into the higher air of severe thought or intense
+imagination.  Those faculties which had been overstrained now lay
+fallow--and the frame rapidly regained its tone.  Of private comfort and
+inspiration Ernest knew but little.  He gradually grew estranged from
+his old friend Ferrers, as their habits became opposed.  Cleveland lived
+more and more in the country, and was too well satisfied with his
+quondam pupil's course of life and progressive reputation to trouble him
+with exhortation or advice.  Cesarini had grown a literary lion, whose
+genius was vehemently lauded by all the reviews--on the same principle
+as that which induces us to praise foreign singers or dead men;--we must
+praise something, and we don't like to praise those who jostle
+ourselves.  Cesarini had therefore grown prodigiously conceited--swore
+that England was the only country for true merit; and no longer
+concealed his jealous anger at the wider celebrity of Maltravers.
+Ernest saw him squandering away his substance, and prostituting his
+talents to drawing-room trifles, with a compassionate sigh.  He sought
+to warn him, but Cesarini listened to him with such impatience that he
+resigned the office of monitor.  He wrote to De Montaigne, who succeeded
+no better.  Cesarini was bent on playing his own game.  And to one game,
+without a metaphor, he had at last come.  His craving for excitement
+vented itself at Hazard, and his remaining guineas melted daily away.
+
+But De Montaigne's letters to Maltravers consoled him for the loss of
+less congenial friends.  The Frenchman was now an eminent and celebrated
+man; and his appreciation of Maltravers was sweeter to the latter than
+would have been the huzzas of crowds.  But, all this while, his vanity
+was pleased and his curiosity roused by the continued correspondence of
+his unseen Egeria.  That correspondence (if so it may be called, being
+all on one side) had now gone on for a considerable time, and he was
+still wholly unable to discover the author: its tone had of late
+altered--it had become more sad and subdued--it spoke of the hollowness
+as well as the rewards of fame; and, with a touch of true womanly
+sentiment, often hinted more at the rapture of soothing dejection, than
+of sharing triumph.  In all these letters, there was the undeniable
+evidence of high intellect and deep feeling; they excited a strong and
+keen interest in Maltravers, yet the interest was not that which made
+him wish to discover, in order that he might love, the writer.  They
+were for the most part too full of the irony and bitterness of a man's
+spirit, to fascinate one who considered that gentleness was the essence
+of a woman's strength.  Temper spoke in them, no less than mind and
+heart, and it was not the sort of temper which a man who loves women to
+be womanly could admire.
+
+"I hear you often spoken of" (ran one of these strange epistles), "and I
+am almost equally angry whether fools presume to praise or to blame you.
+This miserable world we live in, how I loathe and disdain it!--yet I
+desire you to serve and to master it!  Weak contradiction, effeminate
+paradox!  Oh! rather a thousand times that you would fly from its mean
+temptations and poor rewards!--if the desert were your dwelling-place
+and you wished one minister, I could renounce all--wealth, flattery,
+repute, womanhood--to serve you.
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+"I once admired you for your genius.  My disease has fastened on me, and
+I now almost worship you for yourself.  I have seen you, Ernest
+Maltravers,--seen you often,--and when you never suspected that these
+eyes were on you.  Now that I have seen, I understand you better.  We
+can not judge men by their books and deeds.  Posterity can know nothing
+of the beings of the past.  A thousand books never written--a thousand
+deeds never done--are in the eyes and lips of the few greater than the
+herd.  In that cold, abstracted gaze, that pale and haughty brow, I read
+the disdain of obstacles, which is worthy of one who is confident of the
+goal.  But my eyes fill with tears when I survey you!--you are sad, you
+are alone!  If failures do not mortify you, success does not elevate.
+Oh, Maltravers, I, woman as I am, and living in a narrow circle, I, even
+I, know at last that to have desires nobler, and ends more august, than
+others, is but to surrender waking life to morbid and melancholy dreams.
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+"Go more into the world, Maltravers--go more into the world, or quit it
+altogether.  Your enemies must be met; they accumulate, they grow
+strong--you are too tranquil, too slow in your steps towards the prize
+which should be yours, to satisfy my impatience, to satisfy your
+friends.  Be less refined in your ambition that you may be more
+immediately useful.  The feet of clay after all are the swiftest in the
+race.  Even Lumley Ferrers will outstrip you if you do not take heed.
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+"Why do I run on thus!--you--you love another, yet you are not less the
+ideal that I could love--if ever I loved any one.  You love--and
+yet--well--no matter."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+  "Well, but this is being only an official nobleman.  No matter,
+   'tis still being a nobleman, and that's his aim."
+     /Anonymous writer of 1772/.
+
+  "La musique est le seul des talens qui jouissent de lui-meme;
+   tons les autres veulent des temoins."*--MARMONTEL.
+
+* Music is the sole talent which gives pleasure of itself; all the
+others require witnesses.
+
+  "Thus the slow ox would gaudy trappings claim."--HORACE.
+
+MR. TEMPLETON had not obtained his peerage, and, though he had met with
+no direct refusal, nor made even a direct application to headquarters,
+he was growing sullen.  He had great parliamentary influence, not close
+borough, illegitimate influence, but very proper orthodox influence of
+character, wealth, and so forth.  He could return one member at least
+for a city--he could almost return one member for a county, and in three
+boroughs any activity on his part could turn the scale in a close
+contest.  The ministers were strong, but still they could not afford to
+lose supporters hitherto zealous--the example of desertion is
+contagious.  In the town which Templeton had formerly represented, and
+which he now almost commanded, a vacancy suddenly ocurred--a candidate
+started on the opposition side and commenced a canvass; to the
+astonishment and panic of the Secretary of the Treasury, Templeton put
+forward no one, and his interest remained dormant.  Lord Saxingham
+hurried to Lumley.
+
+"My dear fellow, what is this?--what can your uncle be about?  We shall
+lose this place--one of our strongholds.  Bets run even."
+
+"Why, you see, you have all behaved very ill to my uncle--I am really
+sorry for it, but I can do nothing."
+
+"What, this confounded peerage!  Will that content him, and nothing
+short of it?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"He must have it, by Jove!"
+
+"And even that may come too late."
+
+"Ha! do you think so?"
+
+"Will you leave the matter to me?"
+
+"Certainly--you are a monstrous clever fellow, and we all esteem you."
+
+"Sit down and write as I dictate, my dear lord."
+
+"Well," said Lord Saxingham, seating himself at Lumley's enormous
+writing-table--"well, go on."
+
+"/My dear Mr. Templeton/--"
+
+"Too familiar," said Lord Saxingham.
+
+"Not a bit; go on."
+
+"/My dear Mr. Templeton:/--
+
+"/We are anxious to secure your parliamentary influence in C------ to
+the proper quarter, namely, to your own family, as the best defenders of
+the administration, which you honour by your support.  We wish signally,
+at the same time, to express our confidence in your principles, and our
+gratitude for your countenance./"
+
+"D-----d sour countenance!" muttered Lord Saxingham.
+
+"/Accordingly,/" continued Ferrers, "/as one whose connection with you
+permits the liberty, allow me to request that you will suffer our joint
+relation, Mr. Ferrers, to be put into immediate nomination./"
+
+Lord Saxingham threw down the pen and laughed for two minutes without
+ceasing.  "Capital, Lumley, capital--Very odd I did not think of it
+before."
+
+"Each man for himself, and God for us all," returned Lumley, gravely:
+"pray go on, my dear lord."
+
+"/We are sure you could not have a representative that would, more
+faithfully reflect your own opinions and our interests.  One word more.
+A creation of peers will probably take place in the spring, among which
+I am sure your name would be to his Majesty a gratifying addition; the
+title will of course be secured to your sons--and failing the latter, to
+your nephew./
+
+          "/With great regard and respect,
+
+               "Truly yours,
+
+                    "SAXINGHAM./"
+
+"There, inscribe that 'Private and confidential,' and send it express
+to my uncle's villa."
+
+"It shall be done, my dear Lumley--and this contents me as much as it
+does you.  You are really a man to do us credit.  You think it will be
+arranged?"
+
+"No doubt of it."
+
+"Well, good day.  Lumley, come to me when it is all settled: Florence is
+always glad to see yon; she says no one amuses her more.  And I am sure
+that is rare praise, for she is a strange girl,--quite a Timon in
+petticoats."
+
+Away went Lord Saxingham.
+
+"Florence glad to see me!" said Lumley, throwing his arms behind him,
+and striding to and fro the room--"Scheme the Second begins to smile
+upon me behind the advancing shadow of Scheme One.  If I can but succeed
+in keeping away other suitors from my fair cousin until I am in a
+condition to propose myself, why, I may carry off the greatest match in
+the three kingdoms.  /Courage, mon brave Ferrers, courage!/"
+
+It was late that evening when Ferrers arrived at his uncle's villa.  He
+found Mrs. Templeton in the drawing-room seated at the piano.  He
+entered gently; she did not hear him, and continued at the instrument.
+Her voice was so sweet and rich, her taste so pure, that Ferrers, who
+was a good judge of music, stood in delighted surprise.  Often as he had
+now been a visitor, even an inmate, at the house, he had never before
+heard Mrs. Templeton play any but sacred airs, and this was one of the
+popular songs of sentiment.  He perceived that her feeling at last
+overpowered her voice, and she paused abruptly, and turning round, her
+face was so eloquent of emotion, that Ferrers was forcibly struck by its
+expression.  He was not a man apt to feel curiosity for anything not
+immediately concerning himself; but he did feel curious about this
+melancholy and beautiful woman.  There was in her usual aspect that
+inexpressible look of profound resignation which betokens a lasting
+remembrance of a bitter past: a prematurely blighted heart spoke in her
+eyes, in her smile, her languid and joyless step.  But she performed the
+routine of her quiet duties with a calm and conscientious regularity
+which showed that grief rather depressed than disturbed her thoughts.
+If her burden were heavy, custom seemed to have reconciled her to bear
+it without repining; and the emotion which Ferrers now traced in her
+soft and harmonious features was of a nature he had only once witnessed
+before--viz., on the first night he had seen her, when poetry, which is
+the key of memory, had evidently opened a chamber haunted by mournful
+and troubled ghosts.
+
+"Ah! dear madam," said Ferrers, advancing, as he found himself
+discovered, "I trust I do not disturb you.  My visit is unseasonable;
+but my uncle--where is he?"
+
+"He has been in town all the morning; he said he should dine out, and I
+now expect him every minute."
+
+"You have been endeavouring to charm away the sense of his absence.
+Dare I ask you to continue to play?  It is seldom that I hear a voice so
+sweet and skill so consummate.  You must have been instructed by the
+best Italian masters."
+
+"No," said Mrs. Templeton, with a very slight colour in her delicate
+cheek, "I learned young, and of one who loved music and felt it; but who
+was not a foreigner."
+
+"Will you sing me that song again?--you give the words a beauty I never
+discovered in them; yet they (as well as the music itself), are by my
+poor friend whom Mr. Templeton does not like--Maltravers."
+
+"Are they his also?" said Mrs. Templeton, with emotion; "it is strange I
+did not know it.  I heard the air in the streets, and it struck me much.
+I inquired the name of the song and bought it--it is very strange!"
+
+"What is strange?"
+
+"That there is a kind of language in your friend's music and poetry
+which comes home to me, like words I have heard years ago!  Is he young,
+this Mr. Maltravers?"
+
+"Yes, he is still young."
+
+"And, and--"
+
+Here Mrs. Templeton was interrupted by the entrance of her husband.  He
+held the letter from Lord Saxingham--it was yet unopened.  He seemed
+moody; but that was common with him.  He coldly shook hands with Lumley;
+nodded to his wife, found fault with the fire, and throwing himself into
+his easy-chair, said, "So, Lumley, I think I was a fool for taking your
+advice--and hanging back about this new election.  I see by the evening
+papers that there is shortly to be a creation of peers.  If I had shown
+activity on behalf of the government I might have shamed them into
+gratitude."
+
+"I think I was right, sir," replied Lumley; "public men are often
+alarmed into gratitude, seldom shamed into it.  Firm votes, like old
+friends, are most valued when we think we are about to lose them; but
+what is that letter in your hand?"
+
+"Oh, some begging petition, I suppose."
+
+"Pardon me--it has an official look."  Templeton put on his spectacles,
+raised the letter, examined the address and seal, hastily opened it, and
+broke into an exclamation very like an oath: when he had concluded--"
+Give me your hand, nephew--the thing is settled--I am to have the
+peerage.  You were right--ha, ha!--my dear wife, you will be my lady,
+think of that--aren't you glad?--why don't your ladyship smile?  Where's
+the child--where is she, I say?"
+
+"Gone to bed, sir," said Mrs. Templeton, half frightened.
+
+"Gone to bed!  I must go and kiss her.  Gone to bed, has she?  Light
+that candle, Lumley."  [Here Mr. Templeton rang the bell.]  "John," said
+he, as the servant entered,--"John, tell James to go the first thing in
+the morning to Baxter's, and tell him not to paint my chariot till he
+hears from me.  I must go kiss the child--I must, really."
+
+"D--- the child," muttered Lumley, as, after giving the candle to his
+uncle, he turned to the fire; "what the deuce has she got to do with the
+matter?  Charming little girl--yours, madam! how I love her!  My uncle
+dotes on her--no wonder!"
+
+"He is, indeed, very, very, fond of her," said Mrs. Templeton, with a
+sigh that seemed to come from the depth of her heart.
+
+"Did he take a fancy to her before you were married?"
+
+"Yes, I believe--oh yes, certainly."
+
+"Her own father could not be more fond of her."
+
+Mrs. Templeton made no answer, but lighted her candle, and wishing
+Lumley good night, glided from the room.
+
+"I wonder if my grave aunt and my grave uncle took a bite at the apple
+before they bought the right of the tree.  It looks suspicious; yet no,
+it can't be; there is nothing of the seducer or the seductive about the
+old fellow.  It is not likely--here he comes."
+
+In came Templeton, and his eyes were moist, and his brow relaxed.
+
+"And how is the little angel, sir?" asked Ferrers.
+
+"She kissed me, though I woke her up; children are usually cross when
+wakened."
+
+"Are they?--little dears!  Well, sir, so I was right, then; may I see
+the letter?"
+
+"There it is."
+
+Ferrers drew his chair to the fire, and read his own production with all
+the satisfaction of an anonymous author.
+
+"How kind!--how considerate!--how delicately put!--a double favour!  But
+perhaps, after all, it does not express your wishes."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"Why--why--about myself."
+
+"/You!/--is there anything about /you/ in it?--I did not observe
+/that/--let me see."
+
+"Uncles never selfish!--mem. for commonplace book!" thought Ferrers.
+
+The uncle knit his brows as he re-perused the letter.  This won't do,
+Lumley," said he very shortly, when he had done.
+
+"A seat in parliament is too much honour for a poor nephew, then, sir?"
+said Lumley, very bitterly, though he did not feel at all bitter; but it
+was the proper tone.  "I have done all in my power to advance your
+ambition, and you will not even lend a hand to forward me one step in my
+career.  But, forgive me, sir, I have no right to expect it."
+
+"Lumley," replied Templeton, kindly, "you mistake me.  I think much more
+highly of you than I did--much: there is a steadiness, a sobriety about
+you most praiseworthy, and you shall go into parliament if you wish it;
+but not for C------.  I will give my interest there to some other friend
+of the government, and in return they can give you a treasury borough!
+That is the same thing to you."
+
+Lumley was agreeably surprised--he pressed his uncle's hand warmly, and
+thanked him cordially.  Mr. Templeton proceeded to explain to him that
+it was inconvenient and expensive sitting for places where one's family
+was known, and Lumley fully subscribed to all.
+
+"As for the settlement of the peerage, that is all right," said
+Templeton; and then he sank into a reverie, from which he broke
+joyously--"yes, that is all right.  I have projects, objects--this may
+unite them all--nothing can be better--you will be the next
+lord--what--I say, what title shall we have?"
+
+"Oh, take a sounding one--yon have very little landed property, I
+think?"
+
+"Two thousand a year in ------shire, bought a bargain."
+
+"What's the name of the place?"
+
+"Grubley."
+
+"Lord Grubley!--Baron Grubley of Grubley--oh, atrocious!  Who had the
+place before you?"
+
+"Bought it of Mr. Sheepshanks--very old family."
+
+"But surely some old Norman once had the place?"
+
+"Norman, yes!  Henry the Second gave it to his barber--Bertram Courval."
+
+"That's it!--that's it!  Lord de Courval--singular coincidence!--descent
+from the old line.  Herald's College soon settle all that.  Lord de
+Courval!--nothing can sound better.  There must be a village or hamlet
+still called Courval about the property."
+
+"I am afraid not.  There is Coddle End!"
+
+"Coddle End!--Coddle End!--the very thing, sir--the very thing--clear
+corruption from Courval!--Lord de Courval of Courval!  Superb!  Ha! ha!"
+
+"Ha! ha!" laughed Templeton, and he had hardly laughed before since he
+was thirty.
+
+The relations sat long and conversed familiarly.  Ferrers slept at the
+villa, and his sleep was sound; for he thought little of plans once
+formed and half executed; it was the hunt that kept him awake, and he
+slept like a hound when the prey was down.  Not so Templeton, who did
+not close his eyes all night.--"Yes, yes," thought he, "I must get the
+fortune and the title in one line by a prudent management.  Ferrers
+deserves what I mean to do for him.  Steady, good-natured, frank, and
+will get on--yes, yes, I see it all.  Meanwhile I did well to prevent
+his standing for C------; might pick up gossip about Mrs. T., and other
+things that might be unpleasant.  Ah, I'm a shrewd fellow!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+  "/Lauzun./--There, Marquis, there, I've done it.
+   /Montespan./--Done it! yes!  Nice doings!"
+               /The Duchess de la Valliere/.
+
+LUMLEY hastened to strike while the iron was hot.  The next morning he
+went straight to the Treasury--saw the managing secretary, a clever,
+sharp man, who, like Ferrers, carried off intrigue and manoeuvre by a
+blunt, careless, bluff manner.
+
+Ferrers announced that he was to stand for the free, respectable, open
+city of C------, with an electoral population of 2,500.  A very showy
+place it was for a member in the old ante-reform times, and was
+considered a thoroughly independent borough.  The secretary
+congratulated and complimented him.
+
+"We have had losses lately in /our/ elections among the larger
+constituencies," said Lumley.
+
+"We have indeed--three towns lost in the last six months.  Members do
+die so very unseasonably."
+
+"Is Lord Staunch yet provided for?" asked Lumley.  Now Lord Staunch was
+one of the popular show-fight great guns of the administration--not in
+office, but that most useful person to all governments, an out-and-out
+supporter upon the most independent principles--who was known to have
+refused place and to value himself on independence--a man who helped the
+government over the stile when it was seized with a temporary lameness,
+and who carried "great weight with him in the country."  Lord Staunch
+had foolishly thrown up a close borough in order to contest a large
+city, and had failed in the attempt.  His failure was everywhere cited
+as a proof of the growing unpopularity of ministers.
+
+"Is Lord Staunch yet provided for?" asked Lumley.
+
+"Why, he must have his old seat--Three-Oaks. Three-Oaks is a nice, quiet
+little place; most respectable constituency--all Staunch's own family."
+
+"Just the thing for him; yet, 'tis a pity that he did not wait to stand
+for C------; my uncle's interest would have secured him."
+
+"Ay, I thought so the moment C------ was vacant.  However, it is too
+late now."
+
+"It would be a great triumph if Lord Staunch could show that a large
+constituency volunteered to elect him without expense."
+
+"Without expense!--Ah, yes, indeed!  It would prove that purity of
+election still exists--that British institutions are still upheld."
+
+"It might be done, Mr. ------."
+
+"Why, I thought that you--"
+
+"Were to stand--that is true--and it will be difficult to manage my
+uncle; but he loves me much--you know I am his heir--I believe I could
+do it; that is, if you think it would be /a very great advantage/ to the
+party, and /a very great service/ to the government."
+
+"Why, Mr. Ferrers, it would indeed be both."
+
+"And in that case I could have Three-Oaks."
+
+"I see--exactly so; but to give up so respectable a seat--really it is a
+sacrifice."
+
+"Say no more, it shall be done.  A deputation shall wait on Lord Staunch
+directly.  I will see my uncle, and a despatch shall be sent down to
+C------ to-night; at least, I hope so.  I must not be too confident.  My
+uncle is an old man, nobody but myself can manage him; I'll go this
+instant."
+
+"You may be sure your kindness will be duly appreciated."
+
+Lumley shook hands cordially with the secretary and retired.  The
+secretary was not "humbugged," nor did Lumley expect he should be.  But
+the secretary noted this of Lumley Ferrers (and that gentleman's object
+was gained), that Lumley Ferrers was a man who looked out for office,
+and if he did tolerably well in parliament, that Lumley Ferrers was a
+man who ought to be /pushed/.
+
+Very shortly afterwards the /Gazette/ announced the election of Lord
+Staunch for C------, after a sharp but decisive contest.  The
+ministerial journals rang with exulting paeans; the opposition ones
+called the electors of C------ all manner of hard names, and declared
+that Mr. Stout, Lord Staunch's opponent, would petition--which he never
+did.  In the midst of the hubbub, Mr. Lumley Ferrers quietly and
+unobservedly crept into the representation of Three-Oaks.
+
+On the night of his election he went to Lord Saxingham's; but what there
+happened deserves another chapter.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+  "Je connois des princes du sang, des princes etrangers, des
+   grands seigneurs, des ministres d'etat, des magistrats, et
+   des philosophes qui fileroient pour l'amour de vous.  En
+   pouvez-vous demander davantage?"*
+               /Lettres de Madame de Sevigne/
+
+* I know princes of the blood, foreign princes, great lords, ministers
+of state, magistrates, and philosophers who would even spin for love of
+you.  What can you ask more?
+
+  "/Lindore./  I--I believe it will choke me.  I'm in love  * * *  Now
+hold your tongue.  Hold your tongue, I say.
+
+  "/Dalner./  You in love!  Ha! ha!
+
+  "/Lind./  There, he laughs.
+
+  "/Dal./  No; I am really sorry for you."
+
+               /German Play (False Delicacy)/.
+
+     *   *   *   "What is here?
+
+                        Gold."--SHAKSPEARE.
+
+IT happened that that evening Maltravers had, for the first time,
+accepted one of many invitations with which Lord Saxingham had honoured
+him.  His lordship and Maltravers were of different political parties,
+nor were they in other respects adapted to each other.  Lord Saxingham
+was a clever man in his way, but worldly even to a proverb among worldly
+people.  That "man was born to walk erect and look upon the stars," is
+an eloquent fallacy that Lord Saxingham might suffice to disprove.  He
+seemed born to walk with a stoop; and if he ever looked upon any stars,
+they were those which go with a garter.  Though of celebrated and
+historical ancestry, great rank, and some personal reputation, he had
+all the ambition of a /parvenu/.  He had a strong regard for office, not
+so much from the sublime affection for that sublime thing,--power over
+the destinies of a glorious nation,--as because it added to that vulgar
+thing--importance in his own set.  He looked on his cabinet uniform as a
+beadle looks on his gold lace.  He also liked patronage, secured good
+things to distant connections, got on his family to the remotest degree
+of relationship; in short, he was of the earth, earthy.  He did not
+comprehend Maltravers; and Maltravers, who every day grew prouder and
+prouder, despised him.  Still, Lord Saxingham was told that Maltravers
+was a rising man, and he thought it well to be civil to rising men, of
+whatever party; besides, his vanity was flattered by having men who are
+talked of in his train.  He was too busy and too great a personage to
+think Maltravers could be other than sincere, when he declared himself,
+in his notes, "very sorry," or "much concerned," to forego the honour of
+dining with Lord Saxingham on the, &c., &c.; and therefore continued his
+invitations, till Maltravers, from that fatality which undoubtedly
+regulates and controls us, at last accepted the proffered distinction.
+
+He arrived late--most of the guests were assembled; and, after
+exchanging a few words with his host, Ernest fell back into the general
+group, and found himself in the immediate neighbourhood of Lady Florence
+Lascelles.  This lady had never much pleased Maltravers, for he was not
+fond of masculine or coquettish heroines, and Lady Florence seemed to
+him to merit both epithets; therefore, though he had met her often since
+the first day he had been introduced to her, he had usually contented
+himself with a distant bow or a passing salutation.  But now, as he
+turned round and saw her, she was, for a miracle, sitting alone; and in
+her most dazzling and noble countenance there was so evident an
+appearance of ill health, that he was struck and touched by it.  In
+fact, beautiful as she was, both in face and form, there was something
+in the eye and the bloom of Lady Florence, which a skilful physician
+would have seen with prophetic pain.  And, whenever occasional illness
+paled the roses of the cheek, and sobered the play of the lips, even an
+ordinary observer would have thought of the old commonplace
+proverb--"that the brightest beauty has the briefest life."  It was some
+sentiment of this kind, perhaps, that now awakened the sympathy of
+Maltravers.  He addressed her with more marked courtesy than usual, and
+took a seat by her side.
+
+"You have been to the House, I suppose, Mr. Maltravers?" said Lady
+Florence.
+
+"Yes, for a short time; it is not one of our field nights--no division
+was expected; and by this time, I dare say, the House has been counted
+out."
+
+"Do you like the life?"
+
+"It has excitement," said Maltravers, evasively.
+
+"And the excitement is of a noble character?"
+
+"Scarcely  so, I fear--it is so made up of mean and malignant
+motives,--there is in it so much jealousy of our friends, so much
+unfairness to our enemies;--such readiness to attribute to others the
+basest objects,--such willingness to avail ourselves of the poorest
+stratagems!  The ends may be great, but the means are very ambiguous."
+
+"I knew /you/ would feel this," exclaimed Lady Florence, with a
+heightened colour.
+
+"Did you?" said Maltravers, rather interested as well as surprised.  "I
+scarcely imagined it possible that you would deign to divine secrets so
+insignificant."
+
+"You did not do me justice, then," returned Lady Florence, with an arch
+yet half-painful smile; "for--but I was about to be impertinent."
+
+"Nay, say on."
+
+For--then--I do not imagine you to be one apt to do injustice to
+yourself."
+
+"Oh, you consider me presumptuous and arrogant; but that is common
+report, and you do right, perhaps, to believe it."
+
+"Was there ever any one unconscious of his own merit?" asked Lady
+Florence, proudly.  "They who distrust themselves have good reason for
+it."
+
+"You seek to cure the wound you inflicted," returned Maltravers,
+smiling.
+
+"No; what I said was an apology for myself, as well as for you.  You
+need no words to vindicate you; you are a man, and can bear out all
+arrogance with the royal motto /Dieu et mon droit/.  With you deeds can
+support pretension; but I am a woman--it was a mistake of Nature."
+
+"But what triumphs that man can achieve bring so immediate, so palpable
+a reward as those won by a woman, beautiful and admired--who finds every
+room an empire, and every class her subjects?"
+
+"It is a despicable realm."
+
+"What!--to command--to win--to bow to your worship--the greatest, and
+the highest, and the sternest; to own slaves in those whom men recognise
+as their lords!  Is such a power despicable?  If so, what power is to be
+envied?"
+
+Lady Florence turned quickly round to Maltravers, and fixed on him her
+large dark eyes, as if she would read into his very heart.  She turned
+away with a blush and a slight frown--"There is mockery on your lip,"
+said she.
+
+Before Maltravers could answer, dinner was announced, and a foreign
+ambassador claimed the hand of Lady Florence.  Maltravers saw a young
+lady with gold oats in her very light hair, fall to his lot, and
+descended to the dining-room, thinking more of Lady Florence Lascelles
+than he had ever done before.
+
+He happened to sit nearly opposite to the young mistress of the house
+(Lord Saxingham, as the reader knows, was a widower and Lady Florence an
+only child); and Maltravers was that day in one of those felicitous
+moods in which our animal spirits search and carry up, as it were, to
+the surface, our intellectual gifts and acquisitions.  He conversed
+generally and happily; but once, when he turned his eyes to appeal to
+Lady Florence for her opinion on some point in discussion, he caught her
+gaze fixed upon him with an expression that checked the current of his
+gaiety, and cast him into a curious and bewildered reverie.  In that
+gaze there was earnest and cordial admiration; but it was mixed with so
+much mournfulness, that the admiration lost its eloquence, and he who
+noticed it was rather saddened than flattered.
+
+After dinner, when Maltravers sought the drawing-rooms, he found them
+filled with the customary snob of good society.  In one corner he
+discovered Castruccio Cesarini, playing on a guitar, slung across his
+breast with a blue riband.  The Italian sang well; many young ladies
+were grouped round him, amongst others Florence Lascelles.  Maltravers,
+fond as he was of music, looked upon Castruccio's performance as a
+disagreeable exhibition.  He had a Quixotic idea of the dignity of
+talent; and though himself of a musical science, and a melody of voice
+that would have thrown the room into ecstasies, he would as soon have
+turned juggler or tumbler for polite amusement, as contend for the
+bravos of a drawing-room.  It was because he was one of the proudest men
+in the world, that Maltravers was one of the least /vain/.  He did not
+care a rush for applause in small things.  But Cesarini would have
+summoned the whole world to see him play at push-pin, if he thought the
+played it well.
+
+"Beautiful! divine! charming!" cried the young ladies, as Cesarini
+ceased; and Maltravers observed that Florence praised more earnestly
+than the rest, and that Cesarini's dark eye sparkled, and his pale cheek
+flushed with unwonted brilliancy.  Florence turned to Maltravers, and
+the Italian, following her eyes, frowned darkly.
+
+"You know the Signor Cesarini," said Florence, joining Maltravers.  "He
+is an interesting and gifted person."
+
+"Unquestionably.  I grieve to see him wasting his talents upon a soil
+that may yield a few short-lived flowers, without one useful plant or
+productive fruit."
+
+"He enjoys the passing hour, Mr. Maltravers; and sometimes, when I see
+the mortifications that await sterner labour, I think he is right."
+
+"Hush!" said Maltravers; "his eyes are on us--he is listening
+breathlessly for every word you utter.  I fear that you have made an
+unconscious conquest of a poet's heart; and if so, he purchases the
+enjoyment of the passing hour at a fearful price."
+
+"Nay," said Lady Florence, indifferently, "he is one of those to whom
+the fancy supplies the place of the heart.  And if I give him an
+inspiration, it will be an equal luxury to him whether his lyre be
+strung to hope or disappointment.  The sweetness of his verses will
+compensate to him for any bitterness in actual life."
+
+"There are two kinds of love," answered Maltravers,--"love and
+self-love; the wounds of the last are often most incurable in those who
+appear least vulnerable to the first.  Ah, Lady Florence, were I
+privileged to play the monitor, I would venture on one warning, however
+much it might offend yon."
+
+"And that is--"
+
+"To forbear coquetry."
+
+Maltravers smiled as he spoke, but it was gravely--and at the same time
+he moved gently away.  But Lady Florence laid her hand on his arm.
+
+"Mr. Maltravers," said she, very softly, and with a kind of faltering in
+her tone, "am I wrong to say that I am anxious for your good opinion?
+Do not judge me harshly. I am soured, discontented, unhappy.  I have no
+sympathy with the world.  These men whom I see around me--what are they?
+the mass of them unfeeling and silken egotists--ill-judging,
+ill-educated, well-dressed: the few who are called distinguished--how
+selfish in their ambition, how passionless in their pursuits!  Am I to
+be blamed if I sometimes exert a power over such as these, which rather
+proves my scorn of them than my own vanity?"
+
+"I have no right to argue with you."
+
+"Yes, argue with me, convince me, guide me--Heaven knows that, impetuous
+and haughty as I am, I need a guide,"--and Lady Florence's eyes swam
+with tears.  Ernest's prejudices against her were greatly shaken: he was
+even somewhat dazzled by her beauty, and touched by her unexpected
+gentleness; but still, his heart was not assailed, and he replied almost
+coldly, after a short pause:
+
+"Dear Lady Florence, look round the world--who so much to be envied as
+yourself?  What sources of happiness and pride are open to you!  Why,
+then, make to yourself causes of discontent?--why be scornful of those
+who cross not your path?  Why not look with charity upon God's less
+endowed children, beneath you as they may seem?  What consolation have
+you in hurting the hearts or the vanities of others?  Do you raise
+yourself even in your own estimation?  You affect to be above your
+sex--yet what character do you despise more in women than that which you
+assume?  Semiramis should not be a coquette.  There now, I have offended
+you--I confess I am very rude."
+
+"I am not offended," said Florence, almost struggling with her tears;
+and she added inly, "Ah, I am too happy!"--There are some lips from
+which even the proudest women love to hear the censure which appears to
+disprove indifference.
+
+It was at this time that Lumley Ferrers, flushed with the success of his
+schemes and projects, entered the room; and his quick eye fell upon that
+corner, in which he detected what appeared to him a very alarming
+flirtation between his rich cousin and Ernest Maltravers.  He advanced
+to the spot, and, with his customary frankness, extended a hand to each.
+
+"Ah, my dear and fair cousin, give me your congratulations, and ask me
+for my first frank, to be bound up in a collection of autographs by
+distinguished senators--it will sell high one of these days.  Your most
+obedient, Mr. Maltravers;--how we shall laugh in our sleeves at the
+humbug of politics, when you and I, the best friends in the world, sit
+/vis-a-vis/ on opposite benches.  But why, Lady Florence, have you never
+introduced me to your pet Italian?  /Allons/!  I am his match in
+Alfieri, whom, of course, he swears by, and whose verses, by the way,
+seem cut out of box-wood--the hardest material for turning off that sort
+of machinery that invention ever hit on."
+
+Thus saying, Ferrers contrived, as he thought, very cleverly, to divide
+a pair that he much feared were justly formed to meet by nature--and, to
+his great joy, Maltravers shortly afterwards withdrew.
+
+Ferrers, with the happy ease that belonged to his complacent, though
+plotting character, soon made Cesarini at home with him; and two or
+three slighting expressions which the former dropped with respect to
+Maltravers, coupled with some outrageous compliments to the Italian,
+completely won the heart of the poet.  The brilliant Florence was more
+silent and subdued than usual; and her voice was softer, though graver,
+when she replied to Castruccio's eloquent appeals.  Castruccio was one
+of those men who /talk fine/.  By degrees, Lumley lapsed into silence,
+and listened to what took place between Lady Florence and the Italian,
+while appearing to be deep in "The Views of the Rhine," which lay on the
+table.
+
+"Ah," said the latter, in his soft native tongue, "could you know how I
+watch every shade of that countenance which makes my heaven!  Is it
+clouded? night is with me!--is it radiant? I am as the Persian gazing on
+the sun!"
+
+"Why do you speak thus to me? were you not a poet, I might be angry."
+
+"You were not angry when the English poet, that cold Maltravers, spoke
+to you perhaps as boldly."
+
+Lady Florence drew up her haughty head.  "Signor," said she, checking,
+however, her first impulse, and with mildness, "Mr. Maltravers neither
+flatters nor--"
+
+"Presumes, you were about to say," said Cesarini, grinding his teeth.
+"But it is well--once you were less chilling to the utterance of my deep
+devotion."
+
+"Never, Signor Cesarini, never--but when I thought it was but the common
+gallantry of your nation: let me think so still."
+
+"No, proud woman," said Cesarini, fiercely, "no--hear the truth."
+
+Lady Florence rose indignantly.
+
+"Hear me," he continued.  "I--I, the poor foreigner, the despised
+minstrel, dare to lift up my eyes to you!  I love you!"
+
+Never had Florence Lascelles been so humiliated and confounded.  However
+she might have amused herself with the vanity of Cesarini, she had not
+given him, as she thought, the warrant to address her--the great Lady
+Florence, the prize of dukes and princes--in this hardy manner; she
+almost fancied him insane.  But the next moment she recalled the warning
+of Maltravers, and felt as if her punishment had commenced.
+
+"You will think and speak more calmly, sir, when we meet again," and so
+saying, she swept away.
+
+Cesarini remained rooted to the spot, with his dark countenance
+expressing such passions as are rarely seen in the aspects of civilised
+men.
+
+"Where do you lodge, Signor Cesarini?" asked the bland, familiar voice
+of Ferrers.  "Let us walk part of the way together--that is, when you
+are tired of these hot rooms."
+
+Cesarini groaned.  "You are ill," continued Ferrers; "the air will
+revive you--come."  He glided from the room, and the Italian
+mechanically followed him.  They walked together for some moments in
+silence, side by side, in a clear, lovely, moonlight night.  At length
+Ferrers said, "Pardon me, my dear signor, but you may already have
+observed that I am a very frank, odd sort of fellow.  I see you are
+caught by the charms of my cruel cousin.  Can I serve you in any way?"
+
+A man at all acquainted with the world in which we live would have been
+suspicious of such cordiality in the cousin of an heiress, towards a
+very unsuitable aspirant.  But Cesarini, like many indifferent poets
+(but like few good ones), had no common sense.  He thought it quite
+natural that a man who admired his poetry so much as Lumley had declared
+he did, should take a lively interest in his welfare; and he therefore
+replied warmly, "Oh, sir, this is indeed a crushing blow: I dreamed she
+loved me.  She was ever flattering and gentle when she spoke to me, and
+in verse already I had told her of my love, and met with no rebuke."
+
+"Did your verses really and plainly declare love, and in your own
+person?"
+
+"Why, the sentiment was veiled, perhaps--put into the mouth of a
+fictitious character, or conveyed in an allegory."
+
+"Oh," ejaculated Ferrers, thinking it very likely that the gorgeous
+Florence, hymned by a thousand bards, had done little more than cast a
+glance over the lines that had cost poor Cesarini such anxious toil, and
+inspired him with such daring hope.  "Oh!--and to-night she was more
+severe--she is a terrible coquette, /la belle Florence/!  But perhaps
+you have a rival."
+
+"I feel it--I saw it--I know it."
+
+"Whom do you suspect?"
+
+"That accursed Maltravers!  He crosses me in every path--my spirit
+quails beneath his whenever we encounter.  I read my doom."
+
+"If it be Maltravers," said Ferrers, gravely, "the danger cannot be
+great.  Florence has seen but little of him, and he does not admire her
+much; but she is a great match, and he is ambitious.  We must guard
+against this betimes, Cesarini--for know that I dislike Maltravers as
+much as you do, and will cheerfully aid you in any plan to blight his
+hopes in that quarter."
+
+"Generous, noble friend!--yet he is richer, better-born than I."
+
+"That may be: but to one in Lady Florence's position, all minor grades
+of rank in her aspirants seem pretty well levelled.  Come, I don't tell
+you that I would not sooner she married a countryman and an equal--but I
+have taken a liking to you, and I detest Maltravers.  She is very
+romantic--fond of poetry to a passion--writes it herself, I fancy.  Oh,
+you'll just suit her; but, alas! how will you see her?"
+
+"See her!  What mean you?"
+
+"Why, have you not declared love to-night?  I thought I overheard you.
+Can you for a moment fancy that, after such an avowal, Lady Florence
+will again receive you--that is, if she mean to reject your suit?"
+
+"Fool that I was!  But no--she must, she shall."
+
+"Be persuaded; in this country violence will not do.  Take my advice,
+write an humble apology, confess your fault, invoke her pity; and,
+declaring that you renounce for ever the character of a lover, implore
+still to be acknowledged as a friend.  Be quiet now, hear me out; I am
+older than you; I know my cousin; this will pique her; your modesty will
+soothe, while your coldness will arouse, her vanity.  Meanwhile you will
+watch the progress of Maltravers; I will be by your elbow; and between
+us, to use a homely phrase, we will do for him.  Then you may have your
+opportunity, clear stage, and fair play."
+
+Cesarini was at first rebellious; but, at length, even he saw the policy
+of the advice.  But Lumley would not leave him till the advice was
+adopted.  He made Castruccio accompany him to a club, dictated the
+letter to Florence, and undertook its charge.  This was not all.
+
+"It is also necessary," said Lumley, after a short but thoughtful
+silence, "that you should write to Maltravers."
+
+"And for what?"
+
+"I have my reasons.  Ask him, in a frank and friendly spirit, his
+opinion of Lady Florence; state your belief that she loves you, and
+inquire ingenuously what he thinks your chances of happiness in such a
+union."
+
+"But why this?"
+
+"His answer may be useful," returned Lumley, musingly.  "Stay, I will
+dictate the letter."
+
+Cesarini wondered and hesitated, but there was that about Lumley Ferrers
+which had already obtained command over the weak and passionate poet.
+He wrote, therefore, as Lumley dictated, beginning with some commonplace
+doubts as to the happiness of marriage in general, excusing himself for
+his recent coldness towards Maltravers, and asking him his confidential
+opinion both as to Lady Florence's character and his own chances of
+success.
+
+This letter, like the former one, Lumley sealed and despatched.
+
+"You perceive," he then said, briefly, to Cesarini, "that it is the
+object of this letter to entrap Maltravers into some plain and honest
+avowal of his dislike to Lady Florence; we may make good use of such
+expressions hereafter, if he should ever prove a rival.  And now go home
+to rest: you look exhausted.  Adieu, my new friend."
+
+"I have long had a presentiment," said Lumley to his councillor SELF, as
+he walked to Great George Street, "that that wild girl has conceived a
+romantic fancy for Maltravers.  But I can easily prevent such an
+accident ripening into misfortune.  Meanwhile, I have secured a tool, if
+I want one.  By Jove, what an ass that poet is!  But so was Cassio; yet
+Iago made use of him.  If Iago had been born now, and dropped that
+foolish fancy for revenge, what a glorious fellow he would have been!
+Prime minister at least!"
+
+Pale, haggard, exhausted, Castruccio Cesarini, traversing a length of
+way, arrived at last at a miserable lodging in the suburb of Chelsea.
+His fortune was now gone; gone in supplying the poorest food to a
+craving and imbecile vanity: gone, that its owner might seem what nature
+never meant him for: the elegant Lothario, the graceful man of pleasure,
+the troubadour of modern life! gone in horses, and jewels, and fine
+clothes, and gaming, and printing unsaleable poems on gilt-edged vellum;
+gone, that he might not be a greater but a more fashionable man than
+Ernest Maltravers!  Such is the common destiny of those poor adventurers
+who confine fame to boudoirs and saloons.  No matter whether they be
+poets or dandies, wealthy /parvenus/ or aristocratic cadets, all equally
+prove the adage that the wrong paths to reputation are strewed with the
+wrecks of peace, fortune, happiness, and too often honour!  And yet this
+poor young man had dared to hope for the hand of Florence Lascelles!  He
+had the common notion of foreigners, that English girls marry for love,
+are very romantic; that, within the three seas, heiresses are as
+plentiful as blackberries; and for the rest, his vanity had been so
+pampered, that it now insinuated itself into every fibre of his
+intellectual and moral system.
+
+Cesarini looked cautiously round, as he arrived at his door; for he
+fancied that, even in that obscure place, persons might be anxious to
+catch a glimpse of the celebrated poet; and he concealed his residence
+from all; dined on a roll when he did not dine out, and left his address
+at "The Travellers."  He looked round, I say, and he did observe a tall
+figure wrapped in a cloak that had indeed followed him from a distant
+and more populous part of the town.  But the figure turned round, and
+vanished instantly.  Cesarini mounted to his second floor.  And about
+the middle of the next day a messenger left a letter at his door,
+containing one hundred pounds in a blank envelope.  Cesarini knew not
+the writing of the address; his pride was deeply wounded.  Amidst all
+his penury, he had not even applied to his own sister.  Could it come
+from her, from De Montaigne?  He was lost in conjecture.  He put the
+remittance aside for a few days; for he had something fine in him, the
+poor poet!  but bills grew pressing, and necessity hath no law.
+
+Two days afterwards, Cesarini brought to Ferrers the answer he had
+received from Maltravers.  Lumley had rightly foreseen that the high
+spirit of Ernest would conceive some indignation at the coquetry of
+Florence in beguiling the Italian into hopes never to be realised, and
+that he would express himself openly and warmly.  He did so, however,
+with more gentleness than Lumley had anticipated.
+
+"This is not exactly the thing," said Ferrers, after twice reading the
+letter; "still it may hereafter be a strong card in our hands--we will
+keep it."
+
+So saying, he locked the letter up in his desk, and Cesarini soon forgot
+its existence.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+  "She was a phantom of delight,
+   When first she gleamed upon my sight:
+   A lovely apparition sent
+   To be a moment's ornament."--WORDSWORTH.
+
+MALTRAVERS did not see Lady Florence again for some weeks; meanwhile,
+Lumley Ferrers made his /debut/ in parliament.  Rigidly adhering to his
+plan of acting on a deliberate system, and not prone to overrate
+himself, Mr. Ferrers did not, like most promising new members, try the
+hazardous ordeal of a great first speech.  Though bold, fluent, and
+ready, he was not eloquent; and he knew that on great occasions, when
+great speeches are wanted, great guns like to have the fire to
+themselves.  Neither did he split upon the opposite rock of "promising
+young men," who stick to "the business of the house" like leeches, and
+quibble on details; in return for which labour they are generally voted
+bores, who can never do anything remarkable.  But he spoke frequently,
+shortly, courageously, and with a strong dash of good-humoured
+personality.  He was the man whom a minister could get to say something
+which other people did not like to say: and he did so with a frank
+fearlessness that carried off any seeming violation of good taste.  He
+soon became a very popular speaker in the parliamentary clique;
+especially with the gentlemen who crowd the bar, and never want to hear
+the argument of the debate.  Between him and Maltravers a visible
+coldness now existed; for the latter looked upon his old friend (whose
+principles of logic led him even to republicanism, and who had been
+accustomed to accuse Ernest of temporising with plain truths, if he
+demurred to their application to artificial states of society) as a
+cold-blooded and hypocritical adventurer; while Ferrers, seeing that
+Ernest could now be of no further use to him, was willing enough to drop
+a profitless intimacy.  Nay, he thought it would be wise to pick a
+quarrel with him, if possible, as the best means of banishing a supposed
+rival from the house of his noble relation, Lord Saxingham.  But no
+opportunity for that step presented itself; so Lumley kept a fit of
+convenient rudeness, or an impromptu sarcasm, in reserve, if ever it
+should be wanted.
+
+The season and the session were alike drawing to a close, when
+Maltravers received a pressing invitation from Cleveland to spend a week
+at his villa, which he assured Ernest would be full of agreeable people;
+and as all business productive of debate or division was over,
+Maltravers was glad to obtain fresh air, and a change of scene.
+Accordingly, he sent down his luggage and favourite books, and one
+afternoon in early August rode alone towards Temple Grove.  He was much
+dissatisfied, perhaps disappointed, with his experience of public life;
+and with his high-wrought and over-refining views of the deficiencies of
+others more prominent, he was in a humour to mingle also censure of
+himself, for having yielded too much to the doubts and scruples that
+often, in the early part of their career, beset the honest and sincere,
+in the turbulent whirl of politics, and ever tend to make the robust
+hues that should belong to action
+
+     "Sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought."
+
+His mind was working its way slowly towards those conclusions, which
+sometimes ripen the best practical men out of the most exalted
+theorists, and perhaps he saw before him the pleasing prospect
+flatteringly exhibited to another, when he complained of being too
+honest for party, viz., "of becoming a very pretty rascal in time!"
+
+For several weeks he had not heard from his unknown correspondent, and
+the time was come when he missed those letters, now continued for more
+than two years; and which, in their eloquent mixture of complaint,
+exhortation, despondent gloom and declamatory enthusiasm, had often
+soothed him in dejection, and made him more sensible of triumph.  While
+revolving in his mind thoughts connected with these subjects--and,
+somehow or other, with his more ambitious reveries were always mingled
+musings of curiosity respecting his correspondent--he was struck by the
+beauty of a little girl, of about eleven years old, who was walking with
+a female attendant on the footpath that skirted the road.  I said that
+he was struck by her beauty, but that is a wrong expression; it was
+rather the charm of her countenance than the perfection of her features
+which arrested the gaze of Maltravers--a charm that might not have
+existed for others, but was inexpressibly attractive to him, and was so
+much apart from the vulgar fascination of mere beauty, that it would
+have equally touched a chord at his heart, if coupled with homely
+features or a bloomless cheek.  This charm was in a wonderful innocent
+and dove-like softness of expression.  We all form to ourselves some
+/beau-ideal/ of the "fair spirit" we desire as our earthly "minister,"
+and somewhat capriciously gauge and proportion our admiration of living
+shapes according as the /beau-ideal/ is more or less embodied or
+approached.  Beauty, of a stamp that is not familiar to the dreams of
+our fancy, may win the cold homage of our judgment, while a look, a
+feature, a something that realises and calls up a boyish vision, and
+assimilates even distantly to the picture we wear within us, has a
+loveliness peculiar to our eyes, and kindles an emotion that almost
+seems to belong to memory.  It is this which the Platonists felt when
+they wildly supposed that souls attracted to each other on earth had
+been united in an earlier being and a diviner sphere; and there was in
+the young face on which Ernest gazed precisely this ineffable harmony
+with his preconceived notions of the beautiful.  Many a nightly and
+noonday reverie was realised in those mild yet smiling eyes of the
+darkest blue; in that ingenuous breadth of brow, with its
+slightly-pencilled arches, and the nose, not cut in that sharp and clear
+symmetry which looks so lovely in marble, but usually gives to flesh and
+blood a decided and hard character, that better becomes the sterner than
+the gentler sex--no; not moulded in the pure Grecian, nor in the pure
+Roman, cast; but small, delicate, with the least possible inclination to
+turn upward, that was only to be detected in one position of the head,
+and served to give a prettier archness to the sweet flexile lips, which,
+from the gentleness of their repose, seemed to smile unconsciously, but
+rather from a happy constitutional serenity than from the giddiness of
+mirth.  Such was the character of this fair child's countenance, on
+which Maltravers turned and gazed involuntarily and reverently, with
+something of the admiring delight with which we look upon the Virgin of
+a Rafaele, or the sunset landscape of a Claude.  The girl did not appear
+to feel any premature coquetry at the evident, though respectful
+admiration she excited.  She met the eyes bent upon her, brilliant and
+eloquent as they were, with a fearless and unsuspecting gaze, and
+pointed out to her companion, with all a child's quick and unrestrained
+impulse, the shining and raven gloss, the arched and haughty neck, of
+Ernest's beautiful Arabian.
+
+Now there happened between Maltravers and the young object of his
+admiration a little adventure, which served, perhaps, to fix in her
+recollection this short encounter with a stranger; for certain it is
+that, years after, she did remember both the circumstances of the
+adventure and the features of Maltravers.  She wore one of those large
+straw-hats which look so pretty upon children, and the warmth of the day
+made her untie the strings which confined it.  A gentle breeze arose, as
+by a turn in the road the country became more open, and suddenly wafted
+the hat from its proper post, almost to the hoofs of Ernest's horse.
+The child naturally made a spring forward to arrest the deserter, and
+her foot slipped down the bank, which was rather steeply raised above
+the road.  She uttered a low cry of pain.  To dismount--to regain the
+prize--and to restore it to its owner, was, with Ernest, the work of a
+moment; the poor girl had twisted her ankle and was leaning upon her
+servant for support.  But when she saw the anxiety, and almost the
+alarm, upon the stranger's face (and her exclamation of pain had
+literally thrilled his heart--so much and so unaccountably had she
+excited his interest), she made an effort at self-control, not common at
+her years, and, with a forced smile, assured him she was not much
+hurt--that it was nothing--that she was just at home.
+
+"Oh, miss!" said the servant, "I am sure you are very bad.  Dear heart,
+how angry master will be! It was not my fault; was it, sir?"
+
+"Oh, no, it was not your fault, Margaret; don't be frightened--papa
+sha'n't blame you.  But I'm much better now."  So saying, she tried to
+walk; but the effort was in vain--she turned yet more pale, and though
+she struggled to prevent a shriek, the tears rolled down her cheeks.
+
+It was very odd, but Maltravers had never felt more touched--the tears
+stood in his own eyes; he longed to carry her in his arms, but, child as
+she was, a strange kind of nervous timidity forbade him.  Margaret,
+perhaps, expected it of him, for she looked hard in his face, before she
+attempted a burthen to which, being a small, slight person, she was by
+no means equal.  However, after a pause, she took up her charge, who,
+ashamed of her tears, and almost overcome with pain, nestled her head in
+the woman's bosom, and Maltravers walked by her side, while his docile
+and well-trained horse followed at a distance, every now and then
+putting its fore-legs on the bank and cropping away a mouthful of leaves
+from the hedge-row.
+
+"Oh, Margaret!" said the little sufferer, "I cannot bear it--indeed I
+cannot."
+
+And Maltravers observed that Margaret had permitted the lame foot to
+hang down unsupported, so that the pain must indeed have been scarcely
+bearable.  He could restrain himself no longer.
+
+"You are not strong enough to carry her," said he, sharply, to the
+servant; and the next moment the child was in his arms.  Oh, with what
+anxious tenderness he bore her! and he was so happy when she turned her
+face to him and smiled, and told him she now scarcely felt the pain.  If
+it were possible to be in love with a child of eleven years old,
+Maltravers was almost in love.  His pulses trembled as he felt her pure
+breath on his cheek, and her rich beautiful hair was waved by the breeze
+across his lips.  He hushed his voice to a whisper as he poured forth
+all the soothing and comforting expressions which give a natural
+eloquence to persons fond of children--and Ernest Maltravers was the
+idol of children;--he understood and sympathised with them; he had a
+great deal of the child himself, beneath the rough and cold husk of his
+proud reserve.  At length they came to a lodge, and Margaret eagerly
+inquiring "whether master and missus were at home," seemed delighted to
+hear they were not.  Ernest, however, insisted on bearing his charge
+across the lawn to the house, which, like most suburban villas, was but
+a stone's throw from the lodge; and, receiving the most positive promise
+that surgical advice should be immediately sent for, he was forced to
+content himself with laying the sufferer on a sofa in the drawing-room;
+and she thanked him so prettily, and assured him she was so much easier,
+that he would have given the world to kiss her.  The child had completed
+her conquest over him by being above the child's ordinary littleness of
+making the worst of things, in order to obtain the consequence and
+dignity of being pitied;--she was evidently unselfish and considerate
+for others.  He did kiss her, but it was the hand that he kissed, and no
+cavalier ever kissed his lady's hand with more respect; and then, for
+the first time, the child blushed--then, for the first time, she felt as
+if the day would come when she should be a child no longer!  Why was
+this?--perhaps because it is an era in life--the first sign of a
+tenderness that inspires respect, not familiarity!
+
+"If ever again I could be in love," said Maltravers, as he spurred on
+his road, "I really think it would be with that exquisite child.  My
+feeling is more like that of love at first sight than any emotion which
+beauty ever caused in me.  Alice--Valerie--no; the /first/ sight of them
+did not:--but what folly is this--a child of eleven--and I verging upon
+thirty!"
+
+Still, however, folly as it might be, the image of that young girl
+haunted Maltravers for many days; till change of scene, the distractions
+of society, the grave thoughts of manhood, and, above all, a series of
+exciting circumstances about to be narrated, gradually obliterated a
+strange and most delightful impression.  He had learned, however, that
+Mr. Templeton was the proprietor of the villa, which was the child's
+home.  He wrote to Ferrers to narrate the incident, and to inquire after
+the sufferer.  In due time he heard from that gentleman that the child
+was recovered, and gone with Mr. and Mrs. Templeton to Brighton, for
+change of air and sea-bathing.
+
+
+
+BOOK VIII.
+
+  Whither come Wisdom's queen
+  And the snare-weaving Love?
+          EURIP. /Iphig. in Aul./ I. 1310.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+  "Notitiam primosque gradus vicinia fecit."*--OVID.
+
+* Neighbourhood caused the acquaintance and first introduction.
+
+CLEVELAND'S villa /was/ full, and of persons usually called agreeable.
+Amongst the rest was Lady Florence Lascelles.  The wise old man had ever
+counselled Maltravers not to marry too young; but neither did he wish
+him to put off that momentous epoch of life till all the bloom of heart
+and emotion was passed away.  He thought, with the old lawgivers, that
+thirty was the happy age for forming a connection, in the choice of
+which, with the reason of manhood, ought, perhaps, to be blended the
+passion of youth.  And he saw that few men were more capable than
+Maltravers of the true enjoyments of domestic life.  He had long
+thought, also, that none were more calculated to sympathise with
+Ernest's views, and appreciate his peculiar character, than the gifted
+and brilliant Florence Lascelles.  Cleveland looked with toleration on
+her many eccentricities of thought and conduct,--eccentricities which he
+imagined would rapidly melt away beneath the influence of that
+attachment which usually operates so great a change in women; and, where
+it is strongly and intensely felt, moulds even those of the most
+obstinate character into compliance or similitude with the sentiments or
+habits of its object.
+
+The stately self-control of Maltravers was, he conceived, precisely that
+quality that gives to men an unconscious command over the very thoughts
+of the woman whose affection they win: while, on the other hand, he
+hoped that the fancy and enthusiasm of Florence would tend to render
+sharper and more practical an ambition, which seemed to the sober man of
+the world too apt to refine upon the means, and to /cui bono/ the
+objects of worldly distinction.  Besides, Cleveland was one who
+thoroughly appreciated the advantages of wealth and station; and the
+rank and the dower of Florence were such as would force Maltravers into
+a position in social life, which could not fail to make new exactions
+upon talents which Cleveland fancied were precisely those adapted rather
+to command than to serve.  In Ferrers he recognised a man to /get/ into
+power--in Maltravers one by whom power, if ever attained, would be
+wielded with dignity, and exerted for great uses.  Something, therefore,
+higher than mere covetousness for the vulgar interests of Maltravers
+made Cleveland desire to secure to him the heart and hand of the great
+heiress; and he fancied that, whatever might be the obstacle, it would
+not be in the will of Lady Florence herself.  He prudently resolved,
+however, to leave matters to their natural course.  He hinted nothing to
+one party or the other.  No place for falling in love like a large
+country house, and no time for it, amongst the indolent well-born, like
+the close of a London season, when, jaded by small cares, and sickened
+of hollow intimacies, even the coldest may well yearn for the tones of
+affection--the excitement of an honest emotion.
+
+Somehow or other it happened that Florence and Ernest, after the first
+day or two, were constantly thrown together.  She rode on horseback, and
+Maltravers was by her side--they made excursions on the river, and they
+sat on the same bench in the gliding pleasure-boat.  In the evenings,
+the younger guests, with the assistance of the neighbouring families,
+often got up a dance in a temporary pavilion built out of the
+dining-room.  Ernest never danced.  Florence did at first.  But once, as
+she was conversing with Maltravers, when a gay guardsman came to claim
+her promised hand in the waltz, she seemed struck by a grave change in
+Ernest's face.
+
+"Do you never waltz?" she asked, while the guardsman was searching for a
+corner wherein safely to deposit his hat.
+
+"No," said he; "yet there is no impropriety in /my/ waltzing."
+
+"And you mean that there is in mine?"
+
+"Pardon me--I did not say so."
+
+"But you think it."
+
+"Nay, on consideration, I am glad, perhaps, that you do waltz."
+
+"You are mysterious."
+
+"Well then, I mean, that you are precisely the woman I would never fall
+in love with.  And I feel the danger is lessened, when I see you destroy
+any one of my illusions, or, I ought to say, attack any one of my
+prejudices."
+
+Lady Florence coloured; but the guardsman and the music left her no time
+for reply.  However, after that night she waltzed no more.  She was
+unwell--she declared she was ordered not to dance, and so quadrilles
+were relinquished as well as the waltz.
+
+Maltravers could not but be touched and flattered by this regard for his
+opinion; but Florence contrived to testify it so as to forbid
+acknowledgment, since another motive had been found for it.  The second
+evening after that commemorated by Ernest's candid rudeness, they
+chanced to meet in the conservatory, which was connected with the
+ball-room; and Ernest, pausing to inquire after her health, was struck
+by the listless and dejected sadness which spoke in her tone and
+countenance as she replied to him.
+
+"Dear Lady Florence," said he, "I fear you are worse than you will
+confess.  You should shun these draughts.  You owe it to your friends to
+be more careful of yourself."
+
+"Friends!" said Lady Florence, bitterly--"I have no friends!--even my
+poor father would not absent himself from a cabinet dinner a week after
+I was dead.  But that is the condition of public life--its hot and
+searing blaze puts out the lights of all lesser but not unholier
+affections.--Friends!  Fate, that made Florence Lascelles the envied
+heiress, denied her brothers, sisters; and the hour of her birth lost
+her even the love of a mother!  Friends! where shall I find them?"
+
+As she ceased, she turned to the open casement, and stepped out into the
+verandah, and by the trembling of her voice Ernest felt that she had
+done so to hide or to suppress her tears.
+
+"Yet," said he, following her, "there is one class of more distant
+friends, whose interest Lady Florence Lascelles cannot fail to secure,
+however she may disdain it.  Among the humblest of that class, suffer me
+to rank myself.  Come, I assume the privilege of advice--the night air
+is a luxury you must not indulge."
+
+"No, no, it refreshes me--it soothes.  You misunderstand me, I have no
+illness that still skies and sleeping flowers can increase."
+
+Maltravers, as is evident, was not in love with Florence, but he could
+not fail, brought, as he had lately been, under the direct influence of
+her rare and prodigal gifts, mental and personal, to feel for her a
+strong and even affectionate interest--the very frankness with which he
+was accustomed to speak to her, and the many links of communion there
+necessarily were between himself and a mind so naturally powerful and so
+richly cultivated, had already established their acquaintance upon an
+intimate footing.
+
+"I cannot restrain you, Lady Florence," said he, half smiling, "but my
+conscience will not let me be an accomplice.  I will turn king's
+evidence, and hunt out Lord Saxingham to send him to you."
+
+Lady Florence, whose face was averted from his, did not appear to hear
+him.
+
+"And you, Mr. Maltravers," turning quickly round--"you--have you
+friends?  Do you feel that there are, I do not say public, but private
+affections and duties, for which life is made less a possession than a
+trust?"
+
+"Lady Florence--no!--I have friends, it is true, and Cleveland is of the
+nearest; but the life within life--the second self, in whom we vest the
+right and mastery over our own being--I know it not.  But is it," he
+added, after a pause, "a rare privation?  Perhaps it is a happy one.  I
+have learned to lean on my own soul, and not look elsewhere for the
+reeds that a wind can break."
+
+"Ah, it is a cold philosophy--you may reconcile yourself to its wisdom
+in the world, in the hum and shock of men; but in solitude, with
+Nature--ah, no!  While the mind alone is occupied, you may be contented
+with the pride of stoicism; but there are moments when the /heart/
+wakens as from a sleep--wakens like a frightened child--to feel itself
+alone and in the dark."
+
+Ernest was silent, and Florence continued, in an altered voice: "This is
+a strange conversation--and you must think me indeed a wild,
+romance-reading person, as the world is apt to call me.  But if I
+live--I--pshaw!--life denies ambition to women."
+
+"If a woman like you, Lady Florence, should ever love, it will be one in
+whose career you may perhaps find that noblest of all ambitions--the
+ambition women only feel--the ambition for another!"
+
+"Ah! but I shall never love," said Lady Florence, and her cheek grew
+pale as the starlight shone on it; "still, perhaps," she added quickly,
+"I may at least know the blessing of friendship.  Why now," and here,
+approaching Maltravers, she laid her hand with a winning frankness on
+his arm--" why now, should not we be to each other as if love, as you
+call it, were not a thing for earth--and friendship supplied its
+place?--there is no danger of our falling in love with each other!  You
+are not vain enough to expect it in me, and I, you know, am a coquette;
+let us be friends, confidants--at least till you marry, or I give
+another the right to control my friendships and monopolise my secrets."
+
+Maltravers was startled--the sentiment Florence addressed to him, he, in
+words not dissimilar, had once addressed to Valerie.
+
+"The world," said he, kissing the hand that yet lay on his arm, "the
+world will--"
+
+"Oh, you men!--the world, the world!--Everything gentle, everything
+pure, everything noble, high-wrought and holy--is to be squared, and
+cribbed, and maimed to the rule and measure of the world!  The
+world--are you, too, its slave?  Do you not despise its hollow cant--its
+methodical hypocrisy?"
+
+"Heartily!" said Ernest Maltravers, almost with fierceness.  "No man ever
+so scorned its false gods and its miserable creeds--its war upon the
+weak--its fawning upon the great--its ingratitude to benefactors--its
+sordid league with mediocrity against excellence.  Yes, in proportion as
+I love mankind, I despise and detest that worse than Venetian oligarchy
+which mankind set over them and call 'THE WORLD.'"
+
+And then it was, warmed by the excitement of released feelings,
+long and carefully shrouded, that this man, ordinarily so calm and
+self-possessed, poured burningly and passionately forth all those
+tumultuous and almost tremendous thoughts, which, however much we
+may regulate, control, or disguise them, lurk deep within the souls
+of all of us, the seeds of the eternal war between the natural man
+and the artificial; between our wilder genius and our social
+conventionalities;--thoughts that from time to time break forth into the
+harbingers of vain and fruitless revolutions, impotent struggles against
+destiny;--thoughts that good and wise men would be slow to promulge and
+propagate, for they are of a fire which burns as well as brightens, and
+which spreads from heart to heart--as a spark spreads amidst
+flax;--thoughts which are rifest where natures are most high, but belong
+to truths that virtue dare not tell aloud.  And as Maltravers spoke,
+with his eyes flashing almost intolerable light--his breast heaving, his
+form dilated, never to the eyes of Florence Lascelles did he seem so
+great: the chains that bound the strong limbs of his spirit seemed
+snapped asunder, and all his soul was visible and towering, as a thing
+that has escaped slavery, and lifts its crest to heaven, and feels that
+it is free.
+
+That evening saw a new bond of alliance between these two
+persons,--young, handsome, and of opposite sexes, they agreed to be
+friends, and nothing more.  Fools!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+  "Idem velle, et idem nolle, ea demum firma amicitia est."*
+               SALLUST.
+
+*To will the same thing and not to will the same thing, that at length
+is firm friendship.
+
+  "/Carlos./  That letter.
+   /Princess Eboli./  Oh, I shall die.  Return it instantly."
+               SCHILLER: /Don Carlos/.
+
+IT seemed as if the compact Maltravers and Lady Florence had entered
+into removed whatever embarrassment and reserve had previously existed.
+They now conversed with an ease and freedom not common in persons of
+different sexes before they have passed their grand climacteric.
+Ernest, in ordinary life, like most men of warm emotions and strong
+imagination, if not taciturn, was at least guarded.  It was as if a
+weight were taken from his breast, when he found one person who could
+understand him best when he was most candid.  His eloquence--his
+poetry--his intense and concentrated enthusiasm found a voice.  He could
+talk to an individual as he would have written to the public--a rare
+happiness to the men of books.
+
+Florence seemed to recover her health and spirits as by a miracle; yet
+she was more gentle, more subdued, than of old--there was less effort to
+shine, less indifference whether she shocked.  Persons who had not met
+her before, wondered why she was dreaded in society.  But at times a
+great natural irritability of temper--a quick suspicion of the motives
+of those around her--an imperious and obstinate vehemence of will, were
+visible to Maltravers, and served, perhaps, to keep him heart-whole.  He
+regarded her through the eyes of the intellect, not those of the
+passions--he thought not of her as a woman--her very talents, her very
+grandeur of idea and power of purpose, while they delighted him in
+conversation, diverted his imagination from dwelling on her beauty.  He
+looked on her as something apart from her sex;--a glorious creature
+spoilt by being a woman.  He once told her so, laughing, and Florence
+considered it a compliment.  Poor Florence, her scorn of her sex avenged
+her sex, and robbed her of her proper destiny!
+
+Cleveland silently observed their intimacy, and listened with a quiet
+smile to the gossips who pointed out /tetes-a-tetes/ by the terrace, and
+loiterings by the lawn, and predicted what would come of it all.  Lord
+Saxingham was blind.  But his daughter was of age, in possession of her
+princely fortune, and had long made him sensible of her independence of
+temper.  His lordship, however, thoroughly misunderstood the character
+of her pride, and felt fully convinced she would marry no one less than
+a duke; as for flirtations, he thought them natural and innocent
+amusements.  Besides, he was very little at Temple Grove.  He went to
+London every morning, after breakfasting in his own room--came back to
+dine, play at whist, and talk good-humoured nonsense to Florence in his
+dressing-room, for the three minutes that took place between his sipping
+his wine-and-water and the appearance of his valet.  As for the other
+guests, it was not their business to do more than gossip with each
+other; and so Florence and Maltravers went on their way unmolested,
+though not unobserved.  Maltravers, not being himself in love, never
+fancied that Lady Florence loved him, or that she would be in any danger
+of doing so.  This is a mistake a man often commits--a woman never.  A
+woman always knows when she is loved, though she often imagines she is
+loved when she is not.  Florence was not happy, for happiness is a calm
+feeling.  But she was excited with a vague, wild, intoxicating emotion.
+
+She had learned from Maltravers that she had been misinformed by
+Ferrers, and that no other claimed empire over his heart; and whether or
+not he loved her, still for the present they seemed all in all to each
+other; she lived but for the present day, she would not think of the
+morrow.
+
+Since that severe illness which had tended so much to alter Ernest's
+mode of life, he had not come before the public as an author.  Latterly,
+however, the old habit had broken out again.  With the comparative
+idleness of recent years, the ideas and feelings which crowd so fast on
+the poetical temperament, once indulged, had accumulated within him to
+an excess that demanded vent.  For with some, to write is not a vague
+desire, but an imperious destiny.  The fire is kindled and must break
+forth; the wings are fledged, and the birds must leave their nest.  The
+communication of thought to man is implanted as an instinct in those
+breasts to which Heaven has intrusted the solemn agencies of genius.  In
+the work which Maltravers now composed he consulted Florence: his
+confidence delighted her--it was a compliment she could appreciate.
+Wild, fervid, impassioned, was that work--a brief and holiday
+creation--the youngest and most beloved of the children of his brain.
+And as day by day the bright design grew into shape, and thought and
+imagination found themselves "local habitations," Florence felt as if
+she were admitted into the palace of the genii, and made acquainted with
+the mechanism of those spells and charms with which the preternatural
+powers of mind design the witchery of the world.  Ah, how different in
+depth and majesty were those intercommunications of idea between Ernest
+Maltravers and a woman scarcely inferior to himself in capacity and
+acquirement, from that bridge of shadowy and dim sympathies which the
+enthusiastic boy had once built up between his own poetry of knowledge
+and Alice's poetry of love!
+
+It was one late afternoon in September, when the sun was slowly going
+down its western way, that Lady Florence, who had been all that morning
+in her own room, paying off, as she said, the dull arrears of
+correspondence, rather on Lord Saxingham's account than her own; for he
+punctiliously exacted from her the most scrupulous attention to cousins
+fifty times removed, provided they were rich, clever, well off, or in
+any way of consequence:--it was one afternoon that, relieved from these
+avocations, Lady Florence strolled through the grounds with Cleveland.
+The gentlemen were still in the stubble-fields, the ladies were out in
+barouches and pony phaetons, and Cleveland and Lady Florence were alone.
+
+Apropos of Florence's epistolary employment, their conversation fell
+upon that most charming species of literature, which joins with the
+interest of a novel the truth of a history--the French memoir and
+letter-writers.  It was a part of literature in which Cleveland was
+thoroughly at home.
+
+"Those agreeable and polished gossips," said he, "how well they
+contrived to introduce nature into art!  Everything artificial seemed so
+natural to them.  They even feel by a kind of clockwork, which seems to
+go better than the heart itself.  Those pretty sentiments, those
+delicate gallantries, of Madame de Sevigne to her daughter, how amiable
+they are; but, somehow or other, I can never fancy them the least
+motherly.  What an ending for a maternal epistle is that elegant
+compliment--'Songez que de tons les coeurs ou vous regnez, il n'y en a
+aucun ou votre empire soit si bien etabli que dans le mien.'*  I can
+scarcely fancy Lord Saxingham writing so to you, Lady Florence."
+
+* Think that of all the hearts over which you reign, there is not one in
+which your empire can be so well established as in mine.
+
+"No, indeed," replied Lady Florence, smiling.  "Neither papas nor mammas
+in England are much addicted to compliment; but I confess I like
+preserving a sort of gallantry even in our most familiar
+connections--why should we not carry the imagination into all the
+affections?"
+
+"I can scarce answer the why," returned Cleveland; "but I think it would
+destroy the reality.  I am rather of the old school.  If I had a
+daughter, and asked her to get my slippers, I am afraid I should think
+it a little wearisome if I had, in receiving them, to make /des belles
+phrases/ in return."
+
+While they were thus talking, and Lady Florence continued to press her
+side of the question, they passed through a little grove that conducted
+to an arm of the stream which ornamented the grounds, and by its quiet
+and shadowy gloom was meant to give a contrast to the livelier features
+of the domain.  Here they came suddenly upon Maltravers.  He was walking
+by the side of the brook, and evidently absorbed in thought.
+
+It was the trembling of Lady Florence's hand as it lay on Cleveland's
+arm, that induced him to stop short in an animated commentary on
+Rochefoucauld's character of Cardinal de Retz, and look round.
+
+"Ha, most meditative Jacques!" said he; "and what new moral hast thou
+been conning in our Forest of Ardennes?"
+
+"Oh, I am glad to see you; I wished to consult you, Cleveland.  But
+first, Lady Florence, to convince you and our host that my rambles have
+not been wholly fruitless, and that I could not walk from Dan to
+Beersheba and find all barren, accept my offering--a wild rose that I
+discovered in the thickest part of the wood.  It is not a civilised
+rose.  Now, Cleveland, a word with you."
+
+"And now, Mr. Maltravers, I am /de trop/," said Lady Florence.
+
+"Pardon me, I have no secrets from you in this matter--or rather these
+matters; for there are two to be discussed. In the first place, Lady
+Florence, that poor Cesarini,--you know and like him--nay, no blushes."
+
+"Did I blush?--then it was in recollection of an old reproach of yours."
+
+"At its justice?--well, no matter.  He is one for whom I always felt a
+lively interest.  His very morbidity of temperament only increases my
+anxiety for his future fate.  I have received a letter from De
+Montaigne, his brother-in-law, who seems seriously uneasy about
+Castruccio.  He wishes him to leave England at once, as the sole means
+of restoring his broken fortunes.  De Montaigne has the opportunity of
+procuring him a diplomatic situation, which may not again
+occur--and--but you know the man--what shall we do?  I am sure he will
+not listen to me; he looks on me as an interested rival for fame."
+
+"Do you think I have any subtler eloquence?" said Cleveland.  "No, I am
+an author, too.  Come, I think your ladyship must be the
+arch-negotiator."
+
+"He has genius, he has merit," said Maltravers, pleadingly; "he wants
+nothing but time and experience to wean him from his foibles.  /Will/
+you try to save him, Lady Florence?"
+
+"Why? nay, I must not be obdurate; I will see him when I go to town.  It
+is like you, Mr. Maltravers, to feel this interest in one--"
+
+"Who does not like me, you would say; but he will some day or other.
+Besides, I owe him deep gratitude.  In his weaker qualities I have seen
+many which all literary men might incur, without strict watch over
+themselves; and let me add, also, that his family have great claims on
+me."
+
+"You believe in the soundness of his heart, and in the integrity of his
+honour?" said Cleveland, inquiringly.
+
+"Indeed I do; these are, these must be, the redeeming qualities of
+poets."
+
+Maltravers spoke warmly; and such at that time was his influence over
+Florence, that his words formed--alas, too fatally!--her estimate of
+Castruccio's character, which had at first been high, but which his own
+presumption had latterly shaken.  She had seen him three or four times
+in the interval between the receipt of his apologetic letter and her
+visit to Cleveland, and he had seemed to her rather sullen than humbled.
+But she felt for the vanity she herself had wounded.
+
+"And now," continued Maltravers, "for my second subject of consultation.
+But that is political; will it weary Lady Florence?"
+
+"Oh, no; to politics I am never indifferent: they always inspire me with
+contempt or admiration, according to the motives of those who bring the
+science into action.  Pray say on."
+
+"Well," said Cleveland, "one confidant at a time; you will forgive me,
+for I see my guests coming across the lawn, and I may as well make a
+diversion in your favour.  Ernest can consult /me/ at any time."
+
+Cleveland walked away; but the intimacy between Maltravers and Florence
+was of so frank a nature that there was nothing embarrassing in the
+thought of a /tete-a-tete/.
+
+"Lady Florence," said Ernest, "there is no one in the world with whom I
+can confer so cheerfully as with you.  I am almost glad of Cleveland's
+absence, for, with all his amiable and fine qualities, 'the world is too
+much with him,' and we do not argue from the same data.  Pardon my
+prelude--now to my position.  I have received a letter from Mr. ------.
+That statesman, whom none but those acquainted with the chivalrous
+beauty of his nature can understand or appreciate, sees before him the
+most brilliant career that ever opened in this country to a public man
+not born an aristocrat.  He has asked me to form one of the new
+administration that he is about to create: the place offered to me is
+above my merits, nor suited to what I have yet done, though, perhaps, it
+be suited to what I may yet do.  I make that qualification, for you
+know," added Ernest, with a proud smile, "that I am sanguine and
+self-confident."
+
+"You accept the proposal?"
+
+"Nay,--should I not reject it?  Our politics are the same only for the
+moment, our ultimate objects are widely different.  To serve with Mr.
+------, I must make an unequal compromise--abandon nine opinions to
+promote one.  Is not this a capitulation of that great citadel, one's
+own conscience?  No man will call me inconsistent, for, in public life,
+to agree with another on a party question is all that is required; the
+thousand questions not yet ripened, and lying dark and concealed in the
+future, are not inquired into and divined; but I own I shall deem myself
+worse than inconsistent.  For this is my dilemma,--if I use this noble
+spirit merely to advance one object, and then desert him where he halts,
+I am treacherous to him; if I halt with him, but one of my objects
+effected, I am treacherous to myself.  Such are my views.  It is with
+pain I arrive at them, for, at first, my heart beat with a selfish
+ambition."
+
+"You are right, you are right," exclaimed Florence, with glowing cheeks;
+"how could I doubt you?  I comprehend the sacrifice you make; for a
+proud thing is it to soar above the predictions of foes in that palpable
+road to honour which the world's hard eyes can see, and the world's cold
+heart can measure; but prouder is it to feel that you have never
+advanced one step to the goal, which remembrance would retract.  No, my
+friend, wait your time, confident that it must come, when conscience and
+ambition can go hand-in-hand--when the broad objects of a luminous and
+enlarged policy lie before you like a chart, and you can calculate every
+step of the way without peril of being lost.  Ah, let them still call
+loftiness of purpose and whiteness of soul the dreams of a
+theorist,--even if they be so, the Ideal in this case is better than the
+Practical.  Meanwhile your position is not one to forfeit lightly.
+Before you is that throne in literature which it requires no doubtful
+step to win, if you have, as I believe, the mental power to attain it.
+An ambition that may indeed be relinquished, if a more troubled career
+can better achieve those public purposes at which both letters and
+policy should aim, but which is not to be surrendered for the rewards of
+a place-man, or the advancement of a courtier."
+
+It was while uttering these noble and inspiring sentiments, that
+Florence Lascelles suddenly acquired in Ernest's eyes a loveliness with
+which they had not before invested her.
+
+"Oh," he said, as, with a sudden impulse, he lifted her hand to his
+lips, "blessed be the hour in which you gave me your friendship!  These
+are the thoughts I have longed to hear from living lips, when I have
+been tempted to believe patriotism a delusion, and virtue but a name."
+
+Lady Florence heard, and her whole form seemed changed,--she was no
+longer the majestic sibyl, but the attached, timorous, delighted woman.
+
+It so happened that in her confusion she dropped from her hand the
+flower Maltravers had given her, and involuntarily glad of a pretext to
+conceal her countenance, she stooped to take it from the ground.  In so
+doing, a letter fell from her bosom--and Maltravers, as he bent forwards
+to forestall her own movement, saw that the direction was to himself,
+and in the handwriting of his unknown correspondent.  He seized the
+letter, and gazed in flattered and entranced astonishment, first on the
+writing, next on the detected writer.  Florence grew deadly pale, and
+covering her face with her hands, burst into tears.
+
+"O fool that I was," cried Ernest, in the passion of the moment, "not to
+know--not to have felt that there were not two Florences in the world!
+But if the thought had crossed me, I would not have dared to harbour
+it."
+
+"Go, go," sobbed Florence; "leave me, in mercy leave me!"
+
+"Not till you bid me rise," said Ernest, in emotion scarcely less deep
+than hers, as he sank on his knee at her feet.
+
+Need I go on?--When they left that spot, a soft confession had been
+made--deep vows interchanged, and Ernest Maltravers was the accepted
+suitor of Florence Lascelles.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+  "A hundred fathers would in my situation tell you that, as
+   you are of noble extraction, you should marry a nobleman.
+   But I do not say so.  I will not sacrifice my child to any
+   prejudice."
+               KOTZEBUE.  /Lover's Vows/.
+
+  "Take heed, my lord; the welfare of us all
+   Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man."
+               SHAKSPEARE.  /Henry VI./
+
+  "Oh, how this spring of love resembleth
+   Th' uncertain glory of an April day;
+   Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
+   And by and by a cloud takes all away!"
+               SHAKSPEARE.  /The Two Gentlemen of Verona/.
+
+WHEN Maltravers was once more in his solitary apartment, he felt as in a
+dream.  He had obeyed an impulse, irresistible, perhaps, but one with
+which the /conscience of his heart/ was not satisfied.  A voice
+whispered to him, "Thou hast deceived her and thyself--thou dost not
+love her!"  In vain he recalled her beauty, her grace, her genius--her
+singular and enthusiastic passion for himself--the voice still replied,
+"Thou dost not love.  Bid farewell for ever to thy fond dreams of a life
+more blessed than that of mortals.  From the stormy sea of the future
+are blotted out eternally for thee--Calypso and her Golden Isle.  Thou
+canst no more paint on the dim canvas of thy desires the form of her
+with whom thou couldst dwell for ever.  Thou hast been unfaithful to
+thine own ideal--thou hast given thyself for ever and for ever to
+another--thou hast renounced hope--thou must live as in a prison, with a
+being with whom thou hast not the harmony of love."
+
+"No matter," said Maltravers, almost alarmed, and starting from these
+thoughts, "I am betrothed to one who loves me--it is folly and dishonour
+to repent and to repine.  I have gone through the best years of youth
+without finding the Egeria with whom the cavern would be sweeter than a
+throne.  Why live to the grave a vain and visionary Nympholept?  Out of
+the real world could I have made a nobler choice?"
+
+While Maltravers thus communed with himself, Lady Florence passed into
+her father's dressing-room, and there awaited his return from London.
+She knew his worldly views--she knew also the pride of her affianced,
+and, she felt that she alone could mediate between the two.
+
+Lord Saxingham at last returned--busy, bustling, important, and
+good-humoured as usual.  "Well, Flory, well?--glad to see you--quite
+blooming, I declare,--never saw you with such a colour--monstrous like
+me, certainly.  We always had fine complexions and fine eyes in our
+family.  But I'm rather late--first bell rung--we /ci-devant jeunes
+hommes/ are rather long dressing, and you are not dressed yet, I see."
+
+"My dearest father, I wished to speak with you on a matter of much
+importance."
+
+"Do you?--what, immediately?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well--what is it?--your Slingsby property, I suppose."
+
+"No, my dear father--pray sit down and hear me patiently."
+
+Lord Saxingham began to be both alarmed and curious--he seated himself
+in silence, and looked anxiously in the face of his daughter.
+
+"You have always been very indulgent to me," commenced Florence, with a
+half smile, "and I have had my own way more than most young ladies.
+Believe me, my dear father.  I am most grateful not only for your
+affection but your esteem.  I have been a strange wild girl, but I am
+now about to reform; and as the first step, I ask your consent to give
+myself a preceptor and a guide--"
+
+"A what!" cried Lord Saxingham.
+
+"In other words, I am about to--to--well, the truth must out--to marry."
+
+"Has the Duke of ------ been here to-day?"
+
+"Not that I know of.  But it is no duke to whom I have promised my
+hand--it is a nobler and rarer dignity that has caught my ambition.  Mr.
+Maltravers has--"
+
+"Mr. Maltravers!--Mr. Devil!--the girl's mad!--don't talk to me, child,
+I won't consent to any such nonsense.  A country gentleman--very
+respectable, very clever, and all that, but it's no use talking--my
+mind's made up.  With your fortune, too!"
+
+"My dear father, I will not marry without your consent, though my
+fortune is settled on me, and I am of age."
+
+"There's a good child--and now let me dress--we shall be late."
+
+"No, not yet," said Lady Florence, throwing her arm carelessly round her
+father's neck--"I shall marry Mr. Maltravers, but it will be with your
+full approval.  Just consider, if I married the Duke of ------, he would
+expect all my fortune, such as it is.  Ten thousand a year is at my
+disposal; if I marry Mr. Maltravers, it will be settled on you--I always
+meant it--it is a poor return for your kindness, your indulgence--but it
+will show that your own Flory is not ungrateful."
+
+"I won't hear."
+
+"Stop--listen to reason.  You are not rich--you are entitled but to a
+small pension if you ever resign office, and your official salary, I
+have often heard you say, does not prevent you from being embarrassed.
+To whom should a daughter give from her superfluities but to a
+parent?--from whom should a parent receive, but from a child, who can
+never repay his love?--Ah, this is nothing; but you--you who have never
+crossed her lightest whim--do not you destroy all the hopes of happiness
+your Florence can ever form."
+
+Florence wept, and Lord Saxingham, who was greatly moved, let fall a few
+tears also.  Perhaps it is too much to say that the pecuniary part of
+the proffered arrangement entirely won him over; but still the way it
+was introduced softened his heart.  He possibly thought that it was
+better to have a good and grateful daughter in a country gentleman's
+wife, than a sullen and thankless one in a duchess.  However that may
+be, certain it is, that before Lord Saxingham began his toilet, he
+promised to make no obstacle to the marriage, and all he asked in return
+was, that at least three months (but that, indeed, the lawyers would
+require) should elapse before it took place; and on this understanding
+Florence left him, radiant and joyous as Flora herself, when the sun of
+spring makes the world a garden.  Never had she thought so little of her
+beauty, and never had it seemed so glorious, as that happy evening.  But
+Maltravers was pale and thoughtful, and Florence in vain sought his eyes
+during the dinner, which seemed to her insufferably long.  Afterwards,
+however, they met and conversed apart the rest of the evening; and the
+beauty of Florence began to produce upon Ernest's heart its natural
+effect; and that evening--ah, how Florence treasured the remembrance of
+every hour, every minute of its annals!
+
+It would have been amusing to witness the short conversation between
+Lord Saxingham and Maltravers, when the latter sought the earl at night
+in his lordship's room.  To Lord Saxingham's surprise, not a word did
+Maltravers utter of his own subordinate pretensions to Lady Florence's
+hand.  Coldly, drily, and almost haughtily, did he make the formal
+proposals, "as if [as Lord Saxingham afterwards said to Ferrers] the man
+were doing me the highest possible honour in taking my daughter, the
+beauty of London, with fifty thousand a year, off my hands."  But this
+was quite Maltravers!--if he had been proposing to the daughter of a
+country curate, without a sixpence, he would have been the humblest of
+the humble.  The earl was embarrassed and discomposed--he was almost
+awed by the Siddons-like countenance and Coriolanus-like air of his
+future son-in-law-he even hinted nothing of the compromise as to time
+which he had made with his daughter.  He thought it better to leave it
+to Lady Florence to arrange that matter.  They shook hands frigidly and
+parted.  Maltravers went next into Cleveland's room, and communicated
+all to the delighted old man, whose congratulations were so fervid that
+Maltravers felt it would be a sin not to fancy himself the happiest, man
+in the world.  That night he wrote his refusal of the appointment
+offered him.
+
+The next day, Lord Saxingham went to his office in Downing Street as
+usual, and Lady Florence and Ernest found an opportunity to ramble
+through the grounds alone.
+
+There it was that occurred those confessions, sweet alike to utter and
+to hear.  Then did Florence speak of her early years--of her self-formed
+and solitary mind--of her youthful dreams and reveries.  Nothing around
+her to excite interest or admiration, or the more romantic, the higher,
+or the softer qualities of her nature, she turned to contemplation and
+to books.  It is the combination of the faculties with the affections,
+exiled from action, and finding no worldly vent, which produces Poetry,
+the child of passion and of thought.  Hence, before the real cares of
+existence claim them, the young, who are abler yet lonelier than their
+fellows, are nearly always poets; and Florence was a poetess.  In minds
+like this, the first book that seems to embody and represent their own
+most cherished and beloved trains of sentiment and ideas, ever creates a
+reverential and deep enthusiasm.  The lonely, and proud, and melancholy
+soul of Maltravers, which made itself visible in all his creations,
+became to Florence like a revealer of the secrets of her own nature.
+She conceived an intense and mysterious interest in the man whose mind
+exercised so pervading a power over her own.  She made herself
+acquainted with his pursuits, his career--she fancied she found a
+symmetry and harmony between the actual being and the breathing
+genius--she imagined she understood what seemed dark and obscure to
+others.  He whom she had never seen grew to her a never-absent friend.
+His ambition, his reputation, were to her like a possession of her own.
+So at length, in the folly of her young romance, she wrote to him, and
+dreaming of no discovery, anticipating no result, the habit once
+indulged became to her that luxury which writing for the eye of the
+world is to an author oppressed with the burthen of his own thoughts.
+At length she saw him, and he did not destroy her illusion.  She might
+have recovered from the spell if she had found him ready at once to
+worship at her shrine.  The mixture of reserve and frankness--frankness
+of language, reserve of manner--which belonged to Maltravers, piqued
+her.  Her vanity became the auxiliary to her imagination.  At length
+they met at Cleveland's house; their intercourse became more
+unrestrained--their friendship was established, and she discovered that
+she had wilfully implicated her happiness in indulging her dreams; yet
+even then she believed that Maltravers loved her, despite his silence
+upon the subject of love.  His manner, his words bespoke his interest in
+her, and his voice was ever soft when he spoke to women; for he had much
+of the old chivalric respect and tenderness for the sex.  What was
+general it was natural that she should apply individually--she who had
+walked the world but to fascinate and to conquer.  It was probable that
+her great wealth and social position imposed a check on the delicate
+pride of Maltravers--she hoped so--she believed it--yet she felt her
+danger, and her own pride at last took alarm.  In such a moment she had
+resumed the character of the unknown correspondent--she had written to
+Maltravers--addressed her letter to his own house, and meant the next
+day to have gone to London, and posted it there.  In this letter she had
+spoken of his visit to Cleveland, of his position with herself.  She
+exhorted him, if he loved her, to confess, and if not, to fly.  She had
+written artfully and eloquently--she was desirous of expediting her own
+fate; and then, with that letter in her bosom, she had met Maltravers,
+and the reader has learned the rest.  Something of all this the blushing
+and happy Florence now revealed: and when she ended with uttering the
+woman's soft fear that she had been too bold, is it wonderful that
+Maltravers, clasping her to his bosom, felt the gratitude, and the
+delighted vanity, which seemed even to himself like love?  And into love
+those feelings rapidly and deliciously will merge, if fate and accident
+permit!
+
+And now they were by the side of the water; and the sun was gently
+setting as on the eve before.  It was about the same hour, the fairest
+of an autumn day; none were near--the slope of the hill hid the house
+from their view.  Had they been in the desert they could not have been
+more alone.  It was not silence that breathed around them, as they sat
+on that bench with the broad beech spreading over them its trembling
+canopy of leaves;--but those murmurs of living nature which are sweeter
+than silence itself--the songs of birds--the tinkling bell of the sheep
+on the opposite bank--the wind sighing through the trees, and the gentle
+heaving of the glittering waves that washed the odorous reed and
+water-lily at their feet.  They had both been for some moments silent;
+and Florence now broke the pause, but in tones more low than usual.
+
+"Ah!" said she, turning towards him, "these hours are happier than we
+can find in that crowded world whither your destiny must call us.  For
+me, ambition seems for ever at an end.  I have found all; I am no longer
+haunted with the desire of gaining a vague something,--a shadowy empire,
+that we call fame or power.  The sole thought that disturbs the calm
+current of my soul, is the fear to lose a particle of the rich
+possession I have gained."
+
+"May your fears ever be as idle!"
+
+"And you really love me!  I repeat to myself ever and ever that one
+phrase.  I could once have borne to lose you, now it would be my death.
+I despaired of ever being loved for myself; my wealth was a fatal dower;
+I suspected avarice in every vow, and saw the base world lurk at the
+bottom of every heart that offered itself at my shrine.  But you,
+Ernest,--you, I feel, never could weigh gold in the balance--and you--if
+you love--love me for myself."
+
+"And I shall love thee more with every hour."
+
+"I know not that: I dread that you will love me less when you know me
+more.  I fear I shall seem to you exacting--I am jealous already.  I was
+jealous even of Lady T------, when I saw you by her side this morning.
+I would have your every look--monopolise your every word."
+
+This confession did not please Maltravers, as it might have done if he
+had been more deeply in love.  Jealousy, in a woman of so vehement and
+imperious a nature, was indeed a passion to be dreaded.
+
+"Do not say so, dear Florence," said he, with a very grave smile; "for
+love should have implicit confidence as its bond and nature--and
+jealousy is doubt, and doubt is the death of love."
+
+A shade passed over Florence's too expressive face, and she sighed
+heavily.
+
+It was at this time that Maltravers, raising his eyes, saw the form of
+Lumley Ferrers approaching towards them from the opposite end of the
+terrace: at the same instant, a dark cloud crept over the sky, the
+waters seemed overcast and the breeze fell: a chill and strange
+presentiment of evil shot across Ernest's heart, and, like many
+imaginative persons, he was unconsciously superstitious as to
+presentiments.
+
+"We are no longer alone," said he, rising; "your cousin has doubtless
+learned our engagement, and comes to congratulate your suitor."
+
+"Tell me," he continued musingly, as they walked on to meet Ferrers,
+"are you very partial to Lumley? what think you of his character?--it is
+one that perplexes me; sometimes I think it has changed since we parted
+in Italy--sometimes I think it has not changed, but ripened."
+
+"Lumley, I have known from a child," replied Florence, "and see much to
+admire and like in him; I admire his boldness and candour; his scorn of
+the world's littleness and falsehood; I like his good-nature--his
+gaiety--and fancy his heart better than it may seem to the superficial
+observer."
+
+"Yet he appears to me selfish and unprincipled."
+
+"It is from a fine contempt for the vices and follies of men that he has
+contracted the habit of consulting his own resolute will--and, believing
+everything done in this noisy stage of action a cheat, he has
+accommodated his ambition to the fashion.  Though without what is termed
+genius, he will obtain a distinction and power that few men of genius
+arrive at."
+
+"Because /genius/ is essentially honest," said Maltravers.  "However,
+you teach me to look on him more indulgently.  I suspect the real
+frankness of men whom I know to be hypocrites in public life--but,
+perhaps, I judge by too harsh a standard."
+
+"Third persons," said Ferrers, as he now joined them, "are seldom
+unwelcome in the country; and I flatter myself that I am the exact thing
+wanting to complete the charm of this beautiful landscape."
+
+"You are ever modest, my cousin."
+
+"It is my weak side, I know; but I shall improve with years and wisdom.
+What say you, Maltravers?" and Ferrers passed his arm affectionately
+through Ernest's.
+
+"By the by, I am too familiar--I am sunk in the world.  I am a thing to
+be sneered at by you old-family people.  I am next heir to a bran-new
+Brummagem peerage.  'Gad, I feel brassy already!"
+
+"What, is Mr. Templeton--"
+
+"Mr. Templeton is no more; he is defunct, extinguished--out of the ashes
+rises the phoenix Lord Vargrave.  We had thought of a more sounding
+title; De Courval has a nobler sound,--but my good uncle has nothing of
+the Norman about him: so we dropped the De as ridiculous--Vargrave is
+euphonious and appropriate.  My uncle has a manor of that name--Baron
+Vargrave of Vargrave."
+
+"Ah--I congratulate you."
+
+"Thank you.  Lady Vargrave may destroy all my hopes yet.  But nothing
+venture, nothing have.  My uncle will be gazetted to-day.  Poor man, he
+will be delighted; and as he certainly owes it much to me, he will, I
+suppose, be very grateful--or hate me ever afterwards--that is a toss
+up.  A benefit conferred is a complete hazard between the thumb of pride
+and the forefinger of affection.  Heads gratitude, tails hatred!  There,
+that's a simile in the fashion of the old writers: 'Well of English
+undefiled!' humph!"
+
+"So that beautiful child is Mrs. Templeton's, or rather Lady Vargrave's,
+daughter by a former marriage?" said Maltravers, abstractedly.
+
+"Yes, it is astonishing how fond he is of her.  Pretty little
+creature--confoundedly artful though.  By the way, Maltravers, we had an
+unexpectedly stormy night the last of the session--strong
+division--ministers hard pressed.  I made quite a good speech for them.
+I suppose, however, there will be some change--the moderates will be
+taken in.  Perhaps by next session I may congratulate you."
+
+Ferrers looked hard at Maltravers while he spoke.  But Ernest replied
+coldly, and evasively, and they were now joined by a party of idlers,
+lounging along the lawn in expectation of the first dinner-bell.
+Cleveland was in high consultation about the proper spot for a new
+fountain; and he summoned Maltravers to give his opinion whether it
+should spring from the centre of a flower-bed or beneath the drooping
+shade of a large willow.  While this interesting discussion was going
+on, Ferrers drew aside his cousin, and pressing her hand affectionately,
+said, in a soft and tender voice:
+
+"My dear Florence--for in such a time permit me to be familiar--I
+understand from Lord Saxingham, whom I met in London, that you are
+engaged to Maltravers.  Busy as I was, I could not rest without coming
+hither to offer my best and most earnest wish for your happiness.  I may
+seem a careless, I am considered a selfish, person; but my heart is warm
+to those who really interest it.  And never did brother offer up for the
+welfare of a beloved sister prayers more anxious and fond, than those
+that poor Lumley Ferrers, breathes for Florence Lascelles."
+
+Florence was startled and melted--the whole tone and manner of Lumley
+were so different from those he usually assumed.  She warmly returned
+the pressure of his hand, and thanked him briefly, but with emotion.
+
+"No one is great and good enough for you, Florence," continued
+Ferrers--"no one.  But I admire your disinterested and generous choice.
+Maltravers and I have not been friends lately; but I respect him, as all
+must.  He has noble qualities, and he has great ambition.  In addition
+to the deep and ardent love that you cannot fail to inspire, he will owe
+you eternal gratitude.  In this aristocratic country, your hand secures
+to him the most brilliant fortunes, the most proud career.  His talents
+will now be measured by a very different standard.  His merits will not
+pass through any subordinate grades, but leap at once into the highest
+posts; and, as he is even more proud than ambitious, how he must bless
+one who raises him, without effort, into positions of eminent command!"
+
+"Oh, he does not think of such worldly advantages--he, the too pure, the
+too refined!" said Florence, with trembling eagerness.  "He has no
+avarice, nothing mercenary in his nature!"
+
+"No; there you indeed do him justice,--there is not a particle of
+baseness in his mind--I did not say there was.  The very greatness of
+his aspirations, his indignant and scornful pride, lift him above the
+thought of your wealth, your rank,--except as means to an end."
+
+"You mistake still," said Florence, faintly smiling, but turning pale.
+
+"No," resumed Ferrers, not appearing to hear her, and as if pursuing his
+own thoughts.  "I always predicted that Maltravers would make a
+distinguished connection in marriage.  He would not permit himself to
+love the lowborn or the poor.  His affections are in his pride as much
+as in his heart.  He is a great creature--you have judged wisely--and
+may Heaven bless you!"
+
+With these words, Ferrers left her, and Florence, when she descended to
+dinner, wore a moody and clouded brow.  Ferrers stayed three days at the
+house.  He was peculiarly cordial to Maltravers, and spoke little to
+Florence.  But that little never failed to leave upon her mind a jealous
+and anxious irritability, to which she yielded with morbid facility.  In
+order perfectly to understand Florence Lascelles, it must be remembered
+that, with all her dazzling qualities, she was not what is called a
+lovable person.  A certain hardness in her disposition, even as a child,
+had prevented her winding into the hearts of those around her.  Deprived
+of her mother's care--having little or no intercourse with children of
+her own age--brought up with a starched governess, or female relations,
+poor and proud--she never had contracted the softness of manner which
+the reciprocation of household affections usually produces.  With a
+haughty consciousness of her powers, her birth, her position, advantages
+always dinned into her ear, she grew up solitary, unsocial, and
+imperious.  Her father was rather proud than fond of her--her servants
+did not love her--she had too little consideration for others, too
+little blandness and suavity to be loved by inferiors--she was too
+learned and too stern to find pleasure in the conversation and society
+of young ladies of her own age:--she had no friends.  Now, having really
+strong affection, she felt all this, but rather with resentment than
+grief--she longed to be loved, but did not seek to be so--she felt as if
+it was her fate not to be loved--she blamed Fate, not herself.
+
+When, with all the proud, pure, and generous candour of her nature, she
+avowed to Ernest her love for him, she naturally expected the most
+ardent and passionate return; nothing less could content her.  But the
+habit and experience of all the past made her eternally suspicious that
+she was not loved; it was wormwood and poison to her to fancy that
+Maltravers had ever considered her advantages of fortune, except as a
+bar to his pretensions and a check on his passion.  It was the same
+thing to her, whether it was the pettiest avarice or the loftiest
+aspirations that actuated her lover, if he had been actuated in his
+heart by any sentiment but love; and Ferrers, to whose eye her foibles
+were familiar, knew well how to make his praises of Ernest arouse
+against Ernest all her exacting jealousies and irritable doubts.
+
+"It is strange," said he, one evening, as he was conversing with
+Florence, "how complete and triumphant a conquest you have effected over
+Ernest!  Will you believe it?--he conceived a prejudice against you when
+he first saw you--he even said that you were made to be admired, not to
+be loved."
+
+"Ha!--did he so?--true, true--he has almost said the same thing to me."
+
+"But now how he must love you!  Surely he has all the signs."
+
+"And what are the signs, most learned Lumley?" said Florence, forcing a
+smile.
+
+"Why, in the first place, you will doubtless observe that he never takes
+his eyes from you--with whomsoever he converses, whatever his
+occupation, those eyes, restless and pining, wander around for one
+glance from you."
+
+Florence sighed, and looked up--at the other end of the room, her lover
+was conversing with Cleveland, and his eyes never wandered in search of
+her.
+
+Ferrers did not seem to notice this practical contradiction of his
+theory, but went on.
+
+"Then surely his whole character is changed--that brow has lost its calm
+majesty, that deep voice its assured and tranquil tone.  Has he not
+become humble, and embarrassed, and fretful, living only on your smile,
+reproachful if you look upon another--sorrowful if your lip be less
+smiling--a thing of doubt, and dread, and trembling agitation--slave to
+a shadow--no longer lord of the creation?  Such is love, such is the
+love you should inspire, such is the love Maltravers is capable of--for
+I have seen him testify it to another.  "But," added Lumley, quickly,
+and as if afraid he had said too much, "Lord Saxingham is looking out
+for me to make up his whist-table.  I go to-morrow--when shall you be in
+town?"
+
+"In the course of the week," said poor Florence mechanically; and Lumley
+walked away.
+
+In another moment, Maltravers, who had been more observant than he
+seemed, joined her where she sat.
+
+"Dear Florence," said he, tenderly, "you look pale--I fear you are not
+so well this evening."
+
+"No affectation of an interest you do not feel, pray," said Florence,
+with a scornful lip but swimming eyes.
+
+"Do not feel, Florence!"
+
+"It is the first time, at least, that you have observed whether I am
+well or ill.  But it is no matter."
+
+"My dear Florence,--why this tone?--how have I offended you?  Has Lumley
+said--"
+
+"Nothing but in your praise.  Oh, be not afraid, you are one of those of
+whom all speak highly.  But do not let me detain you here; let us join
+our host--you have left him alone."
+
+Lady Florence waited for no reply, nor did Maltravers attempt to detain
+her.  He looked pained, and when she turned round to catch a glance,
+that she hoped would be reproachful, he was gone.  Lady Florence became
+nervous and uneasy, talked she knew not what, and laughed hysterically.
+She, however, deceived Cleveland into the notion that she was in the
+best possible spirits.  By and by she rose, and passed through the suite
+of rooms: her heart was with Maltravers--still he was not visible.  At
+length she entered the conservatory, and there she observed him, through
+the open casements, walking slowly, with folded arms, upon the moonlit
+lawn.  There was a short struggle in her breast between woman's pride
+and woman's love; the last conquered, and she joined him.
+
+"Forgive me, Ernest," she said, extending her hand, "I was to blame."
+
+Ernest kissed the fair hand, and answered touchingly:
+
+"Florence, you have the power to wound me, be forbearing in its
+exercise.  Heaven knows that I would not, from the vain desire of
+showing command over you, inflict upon you a single pang.  Ah! do not
+fancy that in lovers' quarrels there is any sweetness that compensates
+the sting."
+
+"I told you I was too exacting, Ernest.  I told you you would not love
+me so well when you knew me better."
+
+"And were a false prophetess.  Florence, every day, every hour I love
+you more--better than I once thought I could."
+
+"Then," cried this wayward girl, anxious to pain herself, "then once you
+did not love me?"
+
+"Florence, I will be candid--I did not.  You are now rapidly obtaining
+an empire over me, greater than my reason should allow.  But, beware: if
+my love be really a possession you desire,--beware how you arm my reason
+against you.  Florence, I am a proud man.  My very consciousness of the
+more splendid alliances you could form renders me less humble a lover
+than you might find in others.  I were not worthy of you if I were not
+tenacious of my self-respect."
+
+"Ah!" said Florence, to whose heart these words went home, "forgive me
+but this once.  I shall not forgive myself so soon."
+
+And Ernest drew her to his heart, and felt that, with all her faults, a
+woman whom he feared he could not render as happy as her sacrifices to
+him deserved was becoming very dear to him.  In his heart he knew that
+she was not formed to render him happy; but that was not his thought,
+his fear.  Her love had rooted out all thought of self from that
+generous breast.  His only anxiety was to requite her.
+
+They walked along the sward, silent, thoughtful; and Florence
+melancholy, yet blessed.
+
+"That serene heaven, those lovely stars," said Maltravers at last, "do
+they not preach to us the Philosophy of Peace?  Do they not tell us how
+much of calm belongs to the dignity of man, and the sublime essence of
+the soul.  Petty distractions and self-wrought cares are not congenial
+to our real nature; their very disturbance is a proof that they are at
+war with our natures.  Ah, sweet Florence, let us learn from yon skies,
+over which, in the faith of the poets of old, brooded the wings of
+primaeval and serenest Love, what earthly love should be,--a thing pure
+as light, and peaceful as immortality, watching over the stormy world,
+that it shall survive, and high above the clouds and vapours that roll
+below.  Let little minds introduce into the holiest of affections all
+the bitterness and tumult of common life!  Let us love as beings who
+will one day be inhabitants of the stars!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+  "A slippery and subtle knave; a finder out of occasions, that
+   has an eye can stamp and counterfeit advantages."--/Othello/.
+
+  "Knavery's plain face is never seen till used."-/-Ibid./
+
+"You see, my dear Lumley," said Lord Saxingham, as the next day the two
+kinsmen were on their way to London in the earl's chariot, "you see that
+at the best this marriage of Flory's is a cursed bore."
+
+"Why, indeed, it has its disadvantages.  Maltravers is a gentleman and a
+man of genius; but gentlemen are plentiful, and his genius only tells
+against us, since he is not even of our politics."
+
+"Exactly--my own son-in-law voting against me!"
+
+"A practicable, reasonable man would change; not so Maltravers--and all
+the estates, and all the parliamentary influence, and all the wealth
+that ought to go with the family and with the party, go out of the
+family and against the party.  You are quite right, my dear lord--it is
+a cursed bore."
+
+"And she might have had the Duke of ------, a man with a rental of
+L100,000 a year.  It is too ridiculous.  This Maltravers, d----d
+disagreeable fellow, too, eh?"
+
+"Stiff and stately--much changed for the worse of late years--grown
+conceited and set up."
+
+"Do you know, Lumley, I would rather, of the two, have had you for my
+son-in-law?"
+
+Lumley half started.  "Are you serious, my lord?  I have not Ernest's
+fortune--I cannot make such settlements: my lineage, too, at least on my
+mother's side, is less ancient."
+
+"Oh, as to settlements, Flory's fortune ought to be settled on
+herself,--and as compared with that fortune, what could Mr. Maltravers
+pretend to settle?  Neither she nor any children she may have could want
+his L4,000 a year, if he settled it all.  As for family, connections
+tell more nowadays than Norman descent,--and for the rest, you are
+likely to be old Templeton's heir, to have a peerage (a large sum of
+ready money is always useful)--are rising in the House--one of our own
+set--will soon be in office--and, flattery apart, a devilish good fellow
+into the bargain.  Oh, I would sooner a thousand times that Flory had
+taken a fancy to you."
+
+Lumley Ferrers bowed his head but said nothing.  He fell into a reverie,
+and Lord Saxingham took up his official red box, became deep in its
+contents, and forgot all about the marriage of his daughter.
+
+Lumley pulled the check-string as the carriage entered Pall Mall, and
+desired to be set down at "The Travellers."  While Lord Saxingham was
+borne on to settle the affairs of the nation, not being able to settle
+those of his own household, Ferrers was inquiring the address of
+Castruccio Cesarini.  The porter was unable to give it him.  The Signor
+generally called every day for his notes, but no one at the club knew
+where he lodged.  Ferrers wrote, and left with the porter a line
+requesting Cesarini to call on him as soon as possible, and he bent his
+way to his house in Great George Street.  He went straight into his
+library, unlocked his escritoire, and took out that letter which, the
+reader will remember, Maltravers had written to Cesarini, and which
+Lumley had secured; carefully did he twice read over this effusion, and
+the second time his face brightened and his eyes sparkled.  It is now
+time to lay this letter before the reader: it ran thus:--
+
+
+               /"Private and confidential."/
+
+"MY DEAR CESARINI:
+
+"The assurance of your friendly feelings is most welcome to me.  In much
+of what you say of marriage, I am inclined, though with reluctance, to
+agree.  As to Lady Florence herself, few persons are more calculated to
+dazzle, perhaps to fascinate.  But is she a person to make a home
+happy--to sympathise where she has been accustomed to command--to
+comprehend, and to yield to the waywardness and irritability common to
+our fanciful and morbid race--to content herself with the homage of a
+single heart?  I do not know her enough to decide the question; but I
+know her enough to feel deep solicitude and anxiety for your happiness,
+if centred in a nature so imperious and so vain.  But you will remind me
+of her fortune, her station.  You will say that such are the sources
+from which, to an ambitious mind, happiness may well be drawn!  Alas! I
+fear that the man who marries Lady Florence must indeed confine his
+dreams of felicity to those harsh and disappointing realities.  But,
+Cesarini, these are not words which, were we more intimate, I would
+address to you.  I doubt the reality of those affections which you
+ascribe to her and suppose devoted to yourself.  She is evidently fond
+of conquest.  She sports with the victims she makes.  Her vanity dupes
+others, perhaps to be duped itself at last.  I will not say more to you.
+
+     "Yours,
+          E. MALTRAVERS."
+
+
+"Hurrah!" cried Ferrers, as he threw down the letter, and rubbed his
+hands with delight.  "I little thought, when I schemed for this letter,
+that chance would make it so inestimably serviceable.  There is less to
+alter than I thought for--the clumsiest botcher in the world could
+manage it.  Let me look again.  Hem, hem--the first phrase to alter is
+this: 'I know her enough to feel deep solicitude and anxiety for /your/
+happiness if centred in a nature so imperious and vain'--scratch out
+'your,' and put 'my.' All the rest good, good--till we come to
+'affections which you ascribe to her, and suppose devoted to
+/yourself/'--for '/yourself/' write '/myself/'--the rest will do.  Now,
+then, the date--we must change it to the present month, and the work is
+done.  I wish that Italian blockhead would come.  If I can but once make
+an irreparable breach between her and Maltravers, I think I cannot fail
+of securing his place; her pique, her resentment, will hurry her into
+taking the first who offers, by way of revenge.  And by Jupiter, even if
+I fail (which I am sure I shall not), it will be something to keep Flory
+as lady paramount for a duke of our own party.  I shall gain immensely
+by such a connection; but I lose everything and gain nothing by her
+marrying Maltravers--of opposite politics too--whom I begin to hate like
+poison.  But no duke shall have her--Florence Ferrers, the only
+alliteration I ever liked--yet it would sound rough in poetry."
+
+Lumley then deliberately drew towards him his inkstand--"No
+penknife!--Ah, true, I never mend pens--sad waste--must send out for
+one."  He rang the bell, ordered a penknife to be purchased, and the
+servant was still out when a knock at the door was heard, and in a
+minute more Cesarini entered.
+
+"Ah," said Lumley, assuming a melancholy air, "I am glad that you are
+arrived; you will excuse my having written to you so unceremoniously.
+You received my note--sit down, pray--and how are you? you look
+delicate--can I offer you anything?"
+
+"Wine," said Cesarini, laconically, "wine; your climate requires wine."
+
+Here the servant entered with the penknife, and was ordered to bring
+wine and sandwiches.  Lumley then conversed lightly on different matters
+till the wine appeared; he was rather surprised to observe Cesarini pour
+out and drink off glass upon glass, with an evident craving for the
+excitement.  When he had satisfied himself, he turned his dark eyes to
+Ferrers, and said, "You have news to communicate--I see it in your brow.
+I am now ready to hear all."
+
+"Well, then listen to me; you were right in your suspicions; jealousy is
+ever a true diviner.  I make no doubt Othello was quite right, and
+Desdemona was no better than she should be.  Maltravers has proposed to
+my cousin; and been accepted."
+
+Cesarini's complexion grew perfectly ghastly; his whole frame shook like
+a leaf--for a moment he seemed paralysed.
+
+"Curse him!" said he, at last, drawing a deep breath, and betwixt his
+grinded teeth--"curse him, from the depths of the heart he has broken!"
+
+"And after such a letter to you!--do you remember it?--here it is.  He
+warns you against Lady Florence, and then secures her to himself--is
+this treachery?"
+
+"Treachery black as hell!  I am an Italian," cried Cesarini, springing
+to his feet, and with all the passions of his climate in his face, "and
+I will be avenged!  Bankrupt in fortune, ruined in hopes, blasted in
+heart--I have still the godlike consolation of the desperate--I have
+revenge."
+
+"Will you call him out?" asked Lumley, musingly and calmly.  "Are you a
+dead shot?  If so, it is worth thinking about; if not, it is a
+mockery--your shot misses, his goes in the air, seconds interpose, and
+you both walk away devilish glad to get off so well.  Duels are humbug."
+
+"Mr. Ferrers," said Cesarini, fiercely, "this is not a matter of jest."
+
+"I do not make it a jest; and what is more, Cesarini," said Ferrers,
+with a concentrated energy far more commanding than the Italian's fury,
+"what is more, I so detest Maltravers, I am so stung by his cold
+superiority, so wroth with his success, so loathe the thought of his
+alliance, that I would cut off this hand to frustrate that marriage!  I
+do not jest, man; but I have method and sense in my hatred--it is our
+English way."
+
+Cesarini stared at the speaker gloomily, clenched his hand, and strode
+rapidly to and fro the room.
+
+"You would be avenged, so would I.  Now what shall be the means?" said
+Ferrers.
+
+"I will stab him to the heart--I will--"
+
+"Cease these tragic flights.  Nay, frown and stamp not; but sit down,
+and be reasonable, or leave me and act for yourself."
+
+"Sir," said Cesarini, with an eye that might have alarmed a man less
+resolute than Ferrers, "have a care how you presume on my distress."
+
+"You are in distress, and you refuse relief; you are bankrupt in
+fortune, and you rave like a poet, when you should be devising and
+plotting for the attainment of boundless wealth.  Revenge and ambition
+may both be yours; but they are prizes never won but by a cautious foot
+as well as a bold hand."
+
+"What would you have me do? and what but his life would content me?"
+
+"Take his life if you can--I have no objection--go and take it; only
+just observe this, that if you miss your aim, or he, being the stronger
+man, strike you down, you will be locked up in a madhouse for the next
+year or two at least; and that is not the place in which I should like
+to pass the winter--but as you will."
+
+"You!--you!--But what are you to me?  I will go.  Good day, sir."
+
+"Stay a moment," said Ferrers, when he saw Cesarini about to leave the
+room; "stay, take this chair, and listen to me--you had better--"
+
+Cesarini hesitated, and then, as it were, mechanically obeyed.
+
+"Read that letter which Maltravers wrote to you.  You have
+finished--well--now observe--if Florence sees that letter she will not
+and cannot marry the man who wrote it--you must show it to her."
+
+"Ah, my guardian angel, I see it all!  Yes, there are words in this
+letter no woman so proud could ever pardon.  Give me it again, I will go
+at once."
+
+"Pshaw!  You are too quick; you have not remarked that this letter was
+written five months ago, before Maltravers knew much of Lady Florence.
+He himself has confessed to her that he did not then love her--so much
+the more would she value the conquest she has now achieved.  Florence
+would smile at this letter, and say, 'Ah, he judges me differently
+now.'"
+
+"Are you seeking to madden me?  What do you mean?  Did you not just now
+say that, did she see that letter, she would never marry the writer?"
+
+"Yes, yes, but the letter must be altered.  We must erase the date;--we
+must date it from to-day;--to-day--Maltravers returns to-day.  We must
+suppose it written, not in answer to a letter from you, demanding his
+advice and opinion as to your marriage with Lady Florence, but in answer
+to a letter of yours in which you congratulate him on his approaching
+marriage to her.  By the substitution of one pronoun for another, in two
+places, the letter will read as well one way as another.  Read it again,
+and see; or stop, I will be the lecturer."
+
+Here Ferrers read over the letter, which, by the trifling substitutions
+he proposed, might indeed bear the character he wished to give it.
+
+"Does the light break in upon you now?" said Ferrers.  Are you prepared
+to go through a part that requires subtlety, delicacy, address, and,
+above all, self-control?--qualities that are the common attributes of
+your countrymen."
+
+"I will do all, fear me not.  It may be villainous, it may be base; but
+I care not, Maltravers shall not rival, master, eclipse me in all
+things."
+
+"Where are you lodging?"
+
+"Where?--out of town a little way."
+
+"Take up your home with me for a few days.  I cannot trust you out of my
+sight.  Send for your luggage; I have a room at your service."
+
+Cesarini at first refused; but a man who resolves on a crime feels the
+awe of solitude, and the necessity of a companion.  He went himself to
+bring his effects, and promised to return to dinner.
+
+"I must own," said Lumley, resettling himself at his desk, "this is the
+dirtiest trick that ever I played; but the glorious end sanctifies the
+paltry means.  After all, it is the mere prejudice of gentlemanlike
+education."
+
+A very few seconds, and with the aid of the knife to erase, and the pen
+to re-write, Ferrers completed his task, with the exception of the
+change of date, which, on second thoughts, he reserved as a matter to be
+regulated by circumstances.
+
+"I think I have hit off his /m/'s and /y/'s tolerably," said he,
+"considering I was not brought up to this sort of thing.  But the
+alteration would be visible on close inspection.  Cesarini must read the
+letter to her, then if she glances over it herself it will be with
+bewildered eyes and a dizzy brain.  Above all, he must not leave it with
+her, and must bind her to the closest secresy.  She is honourable and
+will keep her word; and so now that matter is settled.  I have just time
+before dinner to canter down to my uncle's and wish the old fellow joy."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+  "And then my lord has much that he would state
+   All good to you."--CRABBE: /Tales of the Heart/.
+
+LORD VARGRAVE was sitting alone in his library, with his account-books
+before him.  Carefully did he cast up the various sums which, invested
+in various speculations, swelled his income.  The result seemed
+satisfactory--and the rich man threw down his pen with an air of
+triumph.
+
+"I will invest L120,000 in land--only L120,000.  I will not be tempted
+to sink more.  I will have a fine house--a house fitting for a
+nobleman--a fine old Elizabethan house--a house of historical interest.
+I must have woods and lakes--and a deer-park, above all.  Deer are very
+gentlemanlike things, very.  De Clifford's place is to be sold, I know;
+they ask too much for it, but ready money is tempting.  I can
+bargain--bargain, I am a good hand at a bargain.  Should I be now Lord
+Baron Vargrave, if I had always given people what they asked?  I will
+double my subscriptions to the Bible Society and the Philanthropic, and
+the building of new churches.  The world shall not say Richard Templeton
+does not deserve his greatness.  I will--Come in.  Who's there?--come
+in."
+
+The door gently opened--the meek face of the new peeress appeared.  "I
+disturb you--I beg your pardon--I--"
+
+"Come in, my dear, come in--I want to talk to you--I want to talk to
+your ladyship--sit down, pray."
+
+Lady Vargrave obeyed.
+
+"You see," said the peer, crossing his legs, and caressing his left foot
+with both hands, while he see-sawed his stately person to and fro in his
+chair--"you see that the honour conferred upon me will make a great
+change in our mode of life, Mrs. Temple--I mean Lady Vargrave.  This
+villa is all very well--my country house is not amiss for a country
+gentleman--but now we must support our rank.  The landed estate I
+already possess will go with the title--go to Lumley--I shall buy
+another at my own disposal, one that I can feel /thoroughly mine/--it
+shall be a splendid place, Lady Vargrave."
+
+"This place is splendid to me," said Lady Vargrave, timidly.
+
+"This place--nonsense--you must learn loftier ideas, Lady Vargrave; you
+are young, you can easily contract new habits, more, easily, perhaps,
+than myself.  You are naturally ladylike, though I say it--you have good
+taste, you don't talk much, you don't show your ignorance--quite right.
+You must be presented at court, Lady Vargrave--we must give great
+dinners, Lady Vargrave.  Balls are sinful, so is the opera, at least I
+fear so--yet an opera-box would be a proper appendage to your rank, Lady
+Vargrave."
+
+"My dear Mr. Templeton--"
+
+"Lord Vargrave, if your ladyship pleases."
+
+"I beg pardon.  May you live long to enjoy your honours; but I, my dear
+lord--I am not fit to share them: it is only in our quiet life that I
+can forget what--what I was.  You terrify me when you talk of
+court--of--"
+
+"Stuff, Lady Vargrave! stuff; we accustom ourselves to these things.  Do
+I look like a man who has stood behind a counter? rank is a glove that
+stretches to the hand that wears it.  And the child, dear child,--dear
+Evelyn, she shall be the admiration of London, the beauty, the heiress,
+the--oh, she will do me honour!"
+
+"She will, she will!" said Lady Vargrave, and the tears gushed from her
+eyes.
+
+Lord Vargrave was softened.
+
+"No mother ever deserved more from a child than you from Evelyn."
+
+"I would hope I have done my duty," said Lady Vargrave, drying her
+tears.
+
+"Papa, papa!" cried an impatient voice, tapping at the window, "come and
+play, papa--come and play at ball, papa!"
+
+And there, by the window, stood that beautiful child, glowing with
+health and mirth--her light hair tossed from her forehead, her sweet
+mouth dimpled with smiles.
+
+"My darling, go on the lawn,--don't over-exert yourself--you have not
+quite recovered that horrid sprain--I will join you immediately--bless
+you!"
+
+"Don't be long, papa--nobody plays so nicely as you do;" and, nodding
+and laughing from very glee, away scampered the young fairy.  Lord
+Vargrave turned to his wife.
+
+"What think you of my nephew--of Lumley?" said he, abruptly.
+
+"He seems all that is amiable, frank, and kind."
+
+Lord Vargrave's brow became thoughtful.  "I think so too," he said,
+after a, short pause; "and I hope you will approve of what I mean to do.
+You see Lumley was brought up to regard himself as my heir--I owe
+something to him, beyond the poor estate which goes with, but never can
+adequately support, /my/ title.  Family honours, hereditary rank, must
+be properly regarded.  But that dear girl--I shall leave her the bulk of
+my fortune.  Could we not unite the fortune and the title?  It would
+secure the rank to her, it would incorporate all my desires--all my
+duties."
+
+"But," said Lady Vargrave, with evident surprise, "if I understand you
+rightly, the disparity of years--"
+
+"And what then, what then, Lady Vargrave?  Is there no disparity of
+years between /us/?--a greater disparity than between Lumley and that
+tall girl.  Lumley is a mere youth, a youth still, five-and-thirty; he
+will be little more than forty when they marry; I was between fifty and
+sixty when I married you, Lady Vargrave.  I don't like boy and girl
+marriages: a man should be older than his wife.  But you are so
+romantic, Lady Vargrave.  Besides, Lumley is so gay and good-looking,
+and wears so well.  He has been very nearly forming another attachment;
+but that, I trust, is out of his head now.  They must like each other.
+You will not gainsay me, Lady Vargrave, and if anything happens to
+me--life is uncertain--"
+
+"Oh, do not speak so--my friend, my benefactor!"
+
+"Why, indeed," resumed his lordship, mildly, "thank Heaven, I am very
+well--feel younger than ever I did--but still life is uncertain; and if
+you survive me, you will not throw obstacles in the way of my grand
+scheme?"
+
+"I--no,--no--of course you have the right in all things over her
+destiny; but so young--so soft-hearted, if she should love one of her
+own years--"
+
+"Love!--pooh! love does not come into girls' heads unless it is put
+there.  We will bring her up to love Lumley.  I have another reason--a
+cogent one--our secret!--to him it can be confided--it should not go out
+of our family.  Even in my grave I could not rest if a slur were cast on
+my respectability--my name."
+
+Lord Vargrave spoke solemnly and warmly; then muttering to himself,
+"Yes, it is for the best," he took up his hat and quitted the room.  He
+joined his stepchild on the lawn.  He romped with her--he played with
+her--that stiff, stately man!--he laughed louder than she did, and ran
+almost as fast.  And when she was fatigued and breathless, he made her
+sit down beside him, in a little summer-house, and, fondly stroking down
+her disordered tresses, said, "You tire me out, child; I am growing too
+old to play with you.  Lumley must supply my place.  You love Lumley?"
+
+"Oh, dearly, he is so good-humoured, so kind: he has given me such a
+beautiful doll, with such eyes!"
+
+"You shall be his little wife--you would like to be his little wife?"
+
+"Wife! why, poor mamma is a wife, and she is not so happy as I am."
+
+"Your mamma has bad health, my dear," said Lord Vargrave, a little
+discomposed.  "But it is a fine thing to be a wife and have a carriage
+of your own, and a fine house, and jewels, and plenty of money, and be
+your own mistress; and Lumley will love you dearly."
+
+"Oh, yes, I should like all that."
+
+"And you will have a protector, child, when I am no more."
+
+The tone, rather than the words, of her stepfather struck a damp into
+that childish heart.  Evelyn lifted her eyes, gazed at him earnestly,
+and then, throwing her arms round him, burst into tears.
+
+Lord Vargrave wiped his own eyes, and covered her with kisses.
+
+"Yes, you shall be Lumley's wife, his honoured wife, heiress to my rank
+as to my fortunes."
+
+"I will do all that papa wishes."
+
+"You will be Lady Vargrave, then, and Lumley will be your husband," said
+the stepfather, impressively.  "Think over what I have said.  Now let us
+join mamma.  But, as I live, here is Lumley himself.  However, it is not
+yet the time to sound him:--I hope that he has no chance with that Lady
+Florence."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+                    "Fair encounter
+   Of two most rare affections."--/Tempest/.
+
+MEANWHILE the betrothed were on their road to London.  The balmy and
+serene beauty of the day had induced them to perform the short journey
+on horseback.  It is somewhere said, that lovers are never so handsome
+as in each other's company, and neither Florence nor Ernest ever looked
+so well as on horseback.  There was something in the stateliness and
+grace of both, something even in the aquiline outline of their features
+and the haughty bend of the neck, that made a sort of likeness between
+these young persons, although there was no comparison as to their
+relative degrees of personal advantage: the beauty of Florence defied
+all comparison.  And as they rode from Cleveland's porch, where the
+other guests yet lingering were assembled to give the farewell greeting,
+there was a general conviction of the happiness destined to the
+affianced ones,--a general impression that both in mind and person they
+were eminently suited to each other.  Their position was that which is
+ever interesting, even in more ordinary people, and at that moment they
+were absolutely popular with all who gazed on them; and when the good
+old Cleveland turned away with tears in his eyes and murmured "Bless
+them!" there was not one of the party who would have hesitated to join
+the prayer.
+
+Florence felt a nameless dejection as she quitted a spot so consecrated
+by grateful recollections.
+
+"When shall we be again so happy?" said she, softly, as she turned back
+to gaze upon the landscape, which, gay with flowers and shrubs, and the
+bright English verdure, smiled behind them like a garden.
+
+"We will try and make my old hall, and its gloomy shades, remind us of
+these fairer scenes, my Florence."
+
+"Ah! describe to me the character of your place.  We shall live there
+principally, shall we not?  I am sure I shall like it much better than
+Marsden Court, which is the name of that huge pile of arches and columns
+in Vanbrugh's heaviest taste, which will soon be yours."
+
+"I fear we shall never dispose of all your mighty retinue, grooms of the
+chamber, and Patagonian footmen, and Heaven knows who besides, in the
+holes and corners of Burleigh," said Ernest smiling.  And then he went
+on to describe the old place with something of a well-born country
+gentleman's not displeasing pride; and Florence listened, and they
+planned, and altered, and added, and improved, and laid out a map for
+the future.  From that topic they turned to another, equally interesting
+to Florence.  The work in which Maltravers had been engaged was
+completed, was in the hands of the printer, and Florence amused herself
+with conjectures as to the criticisms it would provoke.  She was certain
+that all that had most pleased her would be /caviare/ to the multitude.
+She never would believe that any one could understand Maltravers but
+herself.  Thus time flew on till they passed that part of the road in
+which had occurred Ernest's adventure with Mrs. Templeton's daughter.
+Maltravers paused abruptly in the midst of his glowing periods, as the
+spot awakened its associations and reminiscences, and looked round
+anxiously and inquiringly.  But the fair apparition was not again
+visible; and whatever impression the place produced, it gradually died
+away as they entered the suburbs of the great metropolis.  Two other
+gentlemen and a young lady of thirty-three (I had almost forgotten them)
+were of the party, but they had the tact to linger a little behind
+during the greater part of the road, and the young lady, who was a wit
+and a flirt, found gossip and sentiment for both the cavaliers.
+
+"Will you come to us this evening?" asked Florence, timidly.
+
+"I fear I shall not be able.  I have several matters to arrange before I
+leave town for Burleigh, which I must do next week.  Three months,
+dearest Florence, will scarcely suffice to make Burleigh put on its best
+looks to greet its new mistress; and I have already appointed the great
+modern magicians of draperies and ormolu to consult how we may make
+Aladdin's palace fit for the reception of the new princess.  Lawyers,
+too!--in short, I expect to be fully occupied.  But to-morrow, at three,
+I shall be with you, and we can ride out, if the day be fine."
+
+"Surely," said Florence, "yonder is Signor Cesarini--how haggard and
+altered he appears!"
+
+Maltravers, turning his eyes towards the spot to which Florence pointed,
+saw Cesarini emerging from a lane, with a porter behind him carrying
+some books and a trunk.  The Italian, who was talking and gesticulating
+as to himself, did not perceive them.
+
+"Poor Castruccio! he seems leaving his lodging," thought Maltravers.
+"By this time I fear he will have spent the last sum I conveyed to
+him--I must remember to find him out and replenish his stores.--Do not
+forget," said he aloud, "to see Cesarini, and urge him to accept the
+appointment we spoke of."
+
+"I will not forget it--I will see him to-morrow before we meet.  Yet it
+is a painful task, Ernest."
+
+"I allow it.  Alas! Florence, you owe him some reparation.  He
+undoubtedly once conceived himself entitled to form hopes the vanity of
+which his ignorance of our English world and his foreign birth prevented
+him from suspecting."
+
+"Believe me, I did not give him the right to form such expectations."
+
+"But you did not sufficiently discourage them.  Ah, Florence, never
+underrate the pangs of hope crushed, of love contemned."
+
+"Dreadful!" said Florence, almost shuddering.  "It is strange, but my
+conscience never so smote me before.  It is since I loved that I feel,
+for the first time, how guilty a creature is--"
+
+"A coquette!" interrupted Maltravers.  "Well, let us think of the past
+no more; but if we can restore a gifted man, whose youth promised much,
+to an honourable independence and a healthful mind, let us do so.  Me,
+Cesarini never can forgive; he will think I have robbed him of you.  But
+we men--the woman we have once loved, even after she rejects us, ever
+has some power over us, and your eloquence, which has so often roused
+me, cannot fail to impress a nature yet more excitable."
+
+Maltravers, on quitting Florence at her own door, went home, summoned
+his favourite servant, gave him Cesarini's address at Chelsea, bade him
+find out where he was, if he had left his lodgings; and leave at his
+present home, or (failing its discovery) at the "Travellers," a cover,
+which he made his servant address, inclosing a bank-note of some amount.
+If the reader wonder why Maltravers thus constituted himself the unknown
+benefactor of the Italian, I must tell him that he does not understand
+Maltravers.  Cesarini was not the only man of letters whose faults he
+pitied, whose wants he relieved.  Though his name seldom shone in the
+pompous list of public subscriptions--though he disdained to affect the
+Maecenas and the patron, he felt the brotherhood of mankind, and a kind
+of gratitude for those who aspired to rise or to delight their species.
+An author himself, he could appreciate the vast debt which the world
+owes to authors, and pays but by calumny in life and barren laurels
+after death.  He whose profession is the Beautiful succeeds only through
+the Sympathies.  Charity and compassion are virtues taught with
+difficulty to ordinary men; to true genius they are but the instincts
+which direct it to the destiny it is born to fulfil-viz., the discovery
+and redemption of new tracts in our common nature.  Genius--the Sublime
+Missionary--goes forth from the serene Intellect of the Author to live
+in the wants, the griefs, the infirmities of others, in order that it
+may learn their language; and as its highest achievement is Pathos, so
+its most absolute requisite is Pity!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+  "/Don John./  How canst thou cross this marriage?
+
+  "/Borachio./  Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly, that no
+   dishonesty shall appear in me, my lord."--/Much Ado about Nothing/.
+
+FERRERS and Cesarini were both sitting over their wine, and both had
+sunk into silence, for they had only one subject in common, when a note
+was brought to Lumley from Lady Florence.--"This is lucky enough!" said
+he, as he read it.  "Lady Florence wishes to see you, and incloses me a
+note for you, which she asks me to address and forward to you.  There it
+is."
+
+Cesarini took the note with trembling hands: it was very short, and
+merely expressed a desire to see him the next day at two o'clock.
+
+"What can it be?" he exclaimed; "can she want to apologise, to explain?"
+
+"No, no, no!  Florence will not do that; but, from certain words she
+dropped in talking with me, I guess that she has some offer to your
+worldly advantage to propose to you.  Ha! by the way, a thought strikes
+me."
+
+Lumley eagerly rang the bell.  "Is Lady Florence's servant waiting for
+an answer?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Very well--detain him."
+
+"Now, Cesarini, assurance is made doubly sure.  Come into the next room.
+There, sit down at my desk, and write, as I shall dictate, to
+Maltravers."
+
+"I!"
+
+"Yes, now do put yourself in my hands--write, write.  When you have
+finished, I will explain."
+
+Cesarini obeyed, and the letter was as follows:
+
+
+"DEAR MALTRAVERS,
+
+"I have learned your approaching marriage with Lady Florence Lascelles.
+Permit me to congratulate you.  For myself, I have overcome a vain and
+foolish passion; and can contemplate your happiness without a sigh.
+
+"I have reviewed all my old prejudices against marriage, and believe it
+to be a state which nothing but the most perfect congeniality of temper,
+pursuits, and minds, can render bearable.  How rare is such
+congeniality!  In your case it may exist.  The affections of that
+beautiful being are doubtless ardent--and they are yours!
+
+"Write me a line by the bearer to assure me of your belief in my
+sincerity.
+
+     "Yours,
+
+          "C. CESARINI."
+
+
+"Copy out this letter, I want its ditto--quick.  Now seal and direct the
+duplicate," continued Ferrers; "that's right; go into the hall, give it
+yourself to Lady Florence's servant, and beg him to take it to Seamore
+Place, wait for an answer, and bring it here; by which time you will
+have a note ready for Lady Florence.  Say I will mention this to her
+ladyship, and give the man half-a-crown.  There, begone."
+
+"I do not understand a word of this," said Cesarini, when he returned:
+"will you explain?"
+
+"Certainly; the copy of the note you have despatched to Maltravers I
+shall show to Lady Florence this evening, as a proof of your sobered and
+generous feelings; observe, it is so written, that the old letter of
+your rival may seem an exact reply to it.  To-morrow a reference to this
+note of yours will bring out our scheme more easily; and if you follow
+my instructions, you will not seem to /volunteer/ showing our handiwork,
+as we at first intended; but rather to yield it to her eyes, from a
+generous impulse, from an irresistible desire to save her from an
+unworthy husband and a wretched fate.  Fortune has been dealing our
+cards for us, and has turned up the ace.  Three to one now on the odd
+trick.  Maltravers, too, is at home.  I called at his house, on
+returning from my uncle's, and learned that he would not stir out all
+the evening."
+
+In due time came the answer from Ernest: it was short and hurried; but
+full of all the manly kindness of his nature; it expressed admiration
+and delight at the tone of Cesarini's letter; it revoked all former
+expressions derogatory to Lady Florence; it owned the harshness and
+error of his first impressions; it used every delicate argument that
+could soothe and reconcile Cesarini; and concluded by sentiments of
+friendship and desire of service, so cordial, so honest, so free from
+the affectation of patronage, that even Cesarini himself, half insane as
+he was with passion, was almost softened.  Lumley saw the change in his
+countenance--snatched the letter from his hand--read it--threw it into
+the fire--and saying, "We must guard against accidents," clapped the
+Italian affectionately on the shoulder, and added, "Now you can have no
+remorse; for a more Jesuitical piece of insulting hypocritical cant I
+never read. Where's your note to Lady Florence?  Your compliments, you
+will be with her at two.  There, now the rehearsal's over, the scenes
+arranged, and I'll dress, and open the play for you with a prologue."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+              "Aestuat ingens
+   Imo in corde pudor, mixtoque insania luctu,
+   Et furiis agitatus amor, et conscia virtus."*--VIRGIL.
+
+* Deep in her inmost heart is stirred the immense shame, and madness
+with commingled grief, and love agitated by rage, and conscious virtue.
+
+THE next day, punctual to his appointment, Cesarini repaired to his
+critical interview with Lady Florence.  Her countenance, which, like
+that of most persons whose temper is not under their command, ever too
+faithfully expressed what was within, was unusually flushed.  Lumley had
+dropped words and hints which had driven sleep from her pillow and
+repose from her mind.
+
+She rose from her seat with nervous agitation as Cesarini entered and
+made his grave salutation.  After a short and embarrassed pause, she
+recovered, however, her self-possession, and with all a woman's delicate
+and dexterous tact, urged upon the Italian the expediency of accepting
+the offer of honourable independence now extended to him.
+
+"You have abilities," she said, in conclusion, "you have friends, you
+have youth; take advantage of those gifts of nature and fortune, and
+fulfil such a career as," added Lady Florence, with a smile, "Dante did
+not consider incompatible with poetry."
+
+"I cannot object to any career," said Cesarini, with an effort, "that
+may serve to remove me from a country that has no longer any charms for
+me.  I thank you for your kindness; I will obey you.  May you be happy;
+and yet--no, ah! no--happy you must be!  Even he, sooner or later, must
+see you with my eyes."
+
+"I know," replied Florence, falteringly, "that you have wisely and
+generously mastered a past illusion.  Mr. Ferrers allowed me to see the
+letter you wrote to Er---to Mr. Maltravers; it was worthy of you: it
+touched me deeply; but I trust you will outlive your prejudices
+against--"
+
+"Stay," interrupted Cesarini; "did Ferrers communicate to you the answer
+to that letter?"
+
+"No, indeed."
+
+"I am glad of it."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh, no matter.  Heaven bless you; farewell."
+
+"No; I implore you, do not go yet; what was there in that letter that it
+could pain me to see?  Lumley hinted darkly; but would not speak out: be
+more frank."
+
+"I cannot: it would be treachery to Maltravers, cruelty to you; yet
+would it be cruel?"
+
+"No, it would not; it would be kindness and mercy; show me the
+letter--you have it with you."
+
+"You could not bear it; you would hate me for the pain it would give
+you.  Let me depart."
+
+"Man, you wrong Maltravers.  I see it now.  You would darkly slander him
+whom you cannot openly defame.  Go; I was wrong to listen to you--go!"
+
+"Lady Florence, beware how you taunt me into undeceiving you.  Here is
+the letter, it is his handwriting; will you read it?  I warn you not."
+
+"I will believe nothing but the evidence of my own eyes; give it me."
+
+"Stay then; on two conditions.  First, that you promise me sacredly that
+you will not disclose to Maltravers, without my consent, that you have
+seen this letter.  Think not I fear his anger.  No! but in the mortal
+encounter that must ensue, if you thus betray me, your character would
+be lowered in the world's eyes, and even I (my excuse unknown) might not
+appear to have acted with honour in obeying your desire, and warning
+you, while there is yet time, of bartering love for avarice.  Promise
+me."
+
+"I do, I do most solemnly."
+
+"Secondly, assure me that you will not ask to keep the letter, but will
+immediately restore it to me."
+
+"I promise it.  Now then."
+
+"Take the letter."
+
+Florence seized and rapidly read the fatal and garbled document: her
+brain was dizzy, her eyes clouded, her ears rang as with the sound of
+water, she was sick and giddy with emotion; but she read enough.  This
+letter was written, then, in answer to Castruccio's of last night; it
+avowed dislike of her character; it denied the sincerity of her love; it
+more than hinted the mercenary nature of his own feelings.  Yes, even
+there, where she had garnered up her heart, she was not Florence, the
+lovely and beloved woman; but Florence, the wealthy and high-born
+heiress.  The world which she had built upon the faith and heart of
+Maltravers crumbled away at her feet.  The letter dropped from her
+hands; her whole form seemed to shrink and shrivel up; her teeth were
+set, and her cheek was as white as marble.
+
+"O God!" cried Cesarini, stung with remorse.  "Speak to me, speak to
+me, Florence!  I did wrong; forget that hateful letter!  I have been
+false--false!"
+
+"Ah, false--say so again--no, no, I remember he told me--he, so wise, so
+deep a judge of human character, that he would be sponsor for your
+faith--, that your honour and heart were incorruptible.  It is true; I
+thank you--you have saved me from a terrible fate."
+
+"O, Lady Florence, dear--too dear--yet, would that--alas! she does not
+listen to me," muttered Castruccio, as Florence, pressing her hands to
+her temples, walked wildly to and fro the room.  At length she paused
+opposite to Cesarini, looked him full in the face, returned him the
+letter without a word, and pointed to the door.
+
+"No, no, do not bid me leave you yet," said Cesarini, trembling with
+repentant emotion, yet half beside himself with jealous rage at her love
+for his rival.
+
+"My friend, go," said Florence, in a tone of voice singularly subdued
+and soft.  "Do not fear me; I have more pride in me than even affection;
+but there are certain struggles in a woman's breast which she could
+never betray to any one--any one but a mother.  God help me, I have
+none!  Go; when next we meet, I shall be calm."
+
+She held out her hand as she spoke, the Italian dropped on his knee,
+kissed it convulsively, and, fearful of trusting himself further,
+vanished from the room.
+
+He had not been long gone before Maltravers was seen riding through the
+street.  As he threw himself from his horse, he looked up at the window,
+and kissed his hand at Lady Florence, who stood there watching his
+arrival, with feelings indeed far different from those he anticipated.
+He entered the room lightly and gaily.
+
+Florence stirred not to welcome him.  He approached and took her hand;
+she withdrew it with a shudder.
+
+"Are you not well, Florence?"
+
+"I am well, for I have recovered."
+
+"What do you mean? why do you turn from me?"
+
+Lady Florence fixed her eyes on him, eyes that literally blazed; her lip
+quivered with scorn.
+
+"Mr. Maltravers, at length I know you.  I understand the feelings with
+which you have sought a union between us.  O God! why, why was I thus
+cursed with riches--why made a thing of barter and merchandise, and
+avarice, and low ambition?  Take my wealth, take it, Mr. Maltravers,
+since that is what you prize.  Heaven knows I can cast it willingly
+away; but leave the wretch whom you long deceived, and who now, wretch
+though she be, renounces and despises you!"
+
+"Lady Florence, do I hear aright?  Who has accused me to you?"
+
+"None, sir, none; I would have believed none.  Let it suffice that I am
+convinced that our union can be happy to neither: question me no
+further; all intercourse between us is for ever over!"
+
+"Pause," said Maltravers, with cold and grave solemnity; "another word,
+and the gulf will become impassable.  Pause."
+
+"Do not," exclaimed the unhappy lady, stung by what she considered the
+assurance of a hardened hypocrisy--" do not affect this haughty
+superiority; it dupes me no longer.  I was your slave while I loved you:
+the tie is broken.  I am free, and I hate and scorn you!  Mercenary and
+sordid as you are, your baseness of spirit revives the differences of
+our rank.  Henceforth, Mr. Maltravers, I am Lady Florence Lascelles, and
+by that title alone will you know me.  Begone, Sir!"
+
+As she spoke, with passion distorting every feature of her face, all her
+beauty vanished away from the eyes of the proud Maltravers, as if by
+witchcraft: the angel seemed transformed into the fury; and cold,
+bitter, and withering was the eye which he fixed upon that altered
+countenance.
+
+"Mark me, Lady Florence Lascelles," said he, very calmly, "you have now
+said what you can never recall.  Neither in man nor in woman did Ernest
+Maltravers ever forget or forgive a sentence which accused him of
+dishonour.  I bid you farewell for ever; and with my last words I
+condemn you to the darkest of all dooms--the remorse that comes too
+late!"  Slowly he moved away; and as the door closed upon that towering
+and haughty form, Florence already felt that his curse was working to
+its fulfilment.  She rushed to the window--she caught one last glimpse
+of him as his horse bore him rapidly away.  Ah! when shall they meet
+again?
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+  "And now I live--O wherefore do I live?
+   And with that pang I prayed to be no more."
+                    WORDSWORTH.
+
+IT was about nine o'clock that evening, and Maltravers was alone in his
+room.  His carriage was at the door--his servants were arranging the
+luggage--he was going that night to Burleigh.  London--society-the
+world--were grown hateful to him.  His galled and indignant spirit
+demanded solitude.  At this time, Lumley Ferrers entered.
+
+"You will pardon my intrusion," said the latter, with his usual
+frankness--"but--"
+
+"But what, sir?  I am engaged."
+
+"I shall be very brief.  Maltravers, you are my old friend.  I retain
+regard and affection for you, though our different habits have of late
+estranged us.  I come to you from my cousin--from Florence--there has
+been some misunderstanding between you.  I called on her to-day after
+you left the house.  Her grief affected me.  I have only just quitted
+her.  She has been told by some gossip or other some story or
+other--women are credulous, foolish creatures;--undeceive her, and, I
+dare say, all may be settled."
+
+"Ferrers, if a man had spoken to me as Lady Florence did, his blood or
+mine must have flowed.  And do you think that words that might have
+plunged me into the guilt of homicide if uttered by a man, I could ever
+pardon in one whom I had dreamed of for a wife?  Never!"
+
+"Pooh, pooh--women's words are wind.  Don't throw away so splendid a
+match for such a trifle."
+
+"Do you too, sir, mean to impute mercenary motives to me?"
+
+"Heaven forbid!  You know I am no coward, but I really don't want to
+fight you.  Come, be reasonable."
+
+"I dare say you mean well, but the breach is final--all recurrence to it
+is painful and superfluous.  I must wish you good evening."
+
+"You have positively decided?"
+
+"I have."
+
+"Even if Lady Florence made the /amende honorable/?"
+
+"Nothing on the part of Lady Florence could alter my resolution.  The
+woman whom an honourable man--an English gentleman--makes the partner of
+his life, ought never to listen to a syllable against his fair name: his
+honour is hers, and if her lips, that should breathe comfort in calumny,
+only serve to retail the lie--she may be beautiful, gifted, wealthy, and
+high-born, but he takes a curse to his arms.  That curse I have
+escaped."
+
+"And this I am to say to my cousin?"
+
+"As you will.  And now stay, Lumley Ferrers, and hear me.  I neither
+accuse nor suspect you, I desire not to pierce your heart, and in this
+case I cannot fathom your motives; but if it should so have happened
+that you have, in any way, ministered to Lady Florence Lascelles'
+injurious opinions of my faith and honour, you will have much to answer
+for, and sooner or later there will come a day of reckoning between you
+and me."
+
+"Mr. Maltravers, there can be no quarrel between us, with my cousin's
+fair name at stake, or else we should not now part without preparations
+for a more hostile meeting.  I can bear your language.  /I/, too, though
+no philosopher, can forgive.  Come, man, you are heated--it is very
+natural;--let us part friends--your hand."
+
+"If you can take my hand, Lumley, you are innocent, and I have wronged
+you."
+
+Lumley smiled, and cordially pressed the hand of his old friend.
+
+As he descended the stairs, Maltravers followed, and just as Lumley
+turned into Curzon Street, the carriage whirled rapidly past him, and by
+the lamps he saw the pale and stern face of Maltravers.
+
+It was a slow, drizzling rain,--one of those unwholesome nights frequent
+in London towards the end of autumn.  Ferrers, however, insensible to
+the weather, walked slowly and thoughtfully towards his cousin's house.
+He was playing for a mighty stake, and hitherto the cast was in his
+favour, yet he was uneasy and perturbed.  His conscience was tolerably
+proof to all compunction, as much from the levity as from the strength
+of his nature; and (Maltravers removed) he trusted in his knowledge of
+the human heart, and the smooth speciousness of his manner, to win, at
+last, in the hand of Lady Florence, the object of his ambition.  It was
+not on her affection, it was on her pique, her resentment, that he
+relied.  "When a woman fancies herself slighted by the man she loves,
+the first person who proposes must be a clumsy wooer indeed, if he does
+not carry her away."  So reasoned Ferrers, but yet he was ruffled and
+disquieted; the truth must be spoken,--able, bold, sanguine, and
+scornful as he was, his spirit quailed before that of Maltravers; he
+feared the lion of that nature when fairly aroused: his own character
+had in it something of a woman's--an unprincipled, gifted, aspiring, and
+subtle woman's,--and in Maltravers--stern, simple, and masculine--he
+recognised the superior dignity of the "lords of the creation;" he was
+overawed by the anticipation of a wrath and revenge which he felt he
+merited, and which he feared might be deadly.
+
+While gradually, however, his spirit recovered its usual elasticity, he
+came in the vicinity of Lord Saxingham's house, and suddenly, by a
+corner of the street, his arm was seized: to his inexpressible
+astonishment he recognised in the muffled figure that accosted him the
+form of Florence Lascelles.
+
+"Good heavens!" he cried, "is it possible?--You, alone in the streets,
+at this hour, in such a night, too!  How very wrong--how very
+imprudent!"
+
+"Do not talk to me--I am almost mad as it is: I could not rest--I could
+not brave quiet, solitude,--still less, the face of my father--I could
+not!--but quick, what says he?--What excuse has he?  Tell me
+everything--I will cling to a straw."
+
+"And is this the proud Florence Lascelles?"
+
+"No,--it is the humbled Florence Lascelles.  I have done with
+pride--speak to me!"
+
+"Ah, what a treasure is such a heart!  How can he throw it away?"
+
+"Does he deny?"
+
+"He denies nothing--he expresses himself rejoiced to have escaped--such
+was his expression--a marriage in which his heart never was engaged.  He
+is unworthy of you--forget him."
+
+Florence shivered, and as Ferrers drew her arm in his own, her ungloved
+hand touched his, and the touch was like that of ice.
+
+"What will the servants think?--what excuse can we make?" said Ferrers,
+when they stood beneath the porch.  Florence did not reply; but as the
+door opened, she said softly,--
+
+"I am ill--ill," and clung to Ferrers with that unnerved and heavy
+weight which betokens faintness.
+
+The light glared on her--the faces of the lacqueys betokened their
+undisguised astonishment.  With a violent effort, Florence recovered
+herself, for she had not yet done with pride, swept through the hall
+with her usual stately step, slowly ascended the broad staircase, and
+gained the solitude of her own room, to fall senseless on the floor.
+
+
+
+BOOK IX.
+
+   I go, the bride of Acheron.--SOPH. /Antig./
+
+   These things are in the Future.--/Ib./ 1333.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+    *  *  *  "There the action lies
+   In its true nature  *  *  * *
+    *  *  *   What then?  What rests?
+   Try what repentance can!"--/Hamlet/.
+
+  "I doubt he will be dead or ere I come."--/King John/.
+
+IT was a fine afternoon in December, when Lumley Ferrers turned from
+Lord Saxingham's door.  The knockers were muffled--the windows on the
+third story were partially closed.  There was sickness in that house.
+
+Lumley's face was unusually grave; it was even sad.  "So young--so
+beautiful," he muttered.  "If ever I loved woman, I do believe I loved
+her:--that love must be my excuse. . . . I repent of what I have
+done--but I could not foresee that a mere lover's stratagem was to end
+in such effects--the metaphysician was very right when he said, 'We only
+sympathise with feelings we know ourselves.'  A little disappointment in
+love could not have hurt me much--it is d----d odd it should hurt her
+so.  I am altogether out of luck: old Templeton--I beg his pardon, Lord
+Vargrave--(by-the-by, he gets heartier every day--what a constitution he
+has!) seems cross with me.  He did not like the idea that I should marry
+Lady Florence--and when I thought that vision might have been realised,
+hinted that I was disappointing some expectations he had formed; I can't
+make out what he means.  Then, too, the government have offered that
+place to Maltravers instead of to me.  In fact, my star is not in the
+ascendant.  Poor Florence, though,--I would really give a great deal to
+know her restored to health!--I have done a villainous thing, but I
+thought it only a clever one.  However, regret is a fool's passion.  By
+Jupiter!--talking of fools, here comes Cesarini."
+
+Wan, haggard, almost spectral, his hat over his brows, his dress
+neglected, his air reckless and fierce, Cesarini crossed the way, and
+thus accosted Lumley:
+
+"We have murdered her, Ferrers; and her ghost will haunt us to our dying
+day!"
+
+"Talk prose; you know I am no poet.  What do you mean?"
+
+"She is worse to-day," groaned Cesarini, in a hollow voice.  "I wander
+like a lost spirit round the house; I question all who come from it.
+Tell me--oh, tell me, is there hope?"
+
+"I do, indeed, trust so," replied Ferrers, fervently.  "The illness has
+only of late assumed an alarming appearance.  At first it was merely a
+severe cold, caught by imprudent exposure one rainy night.  Now they
+fear it has settled on the lungs; but if we could get her abroad, all
+might be well."
+
+"You think so, honestly?"
+
+"I do.  Courage, my friend; do not reproach yourself; it has nothing to
+do with us.  She was taken ill of a cold, not of a letter, man!"
+
+"No, no; I judge her heart by my own.  Oh, that I could recall the past!
+Look at me; I am the wreck of what I was; day and night the recollection
+of my falsehood haunts me with remorse."
+
+"Pshaw!--we will go to Italy together, and in your beautiful land love
+will replace love."
+
+"I am half resolved, Ferrers."
+
+"Ha!--to do what?"
+
+"To write--to reveal all to her."
+
+The hardy complexion of Ferrers grew livid; his brow became dark with a
+terrible expression.
+
+"Do so, and fall the next day by my hand; my aim in slighter quarrel
+never erred."
+
+"Do you dare to threaten me?"
+
+"Do you dare to betray me?  Betray one who, if he sinned, sinned on your
+account--in your cause; who would have secured to you the loveliest
+bride, and the most princely dower in England; and whose only offence
+against you is that he cannot command life and health?"
+
+"Forgive me," said the Italian, with great emotion,--"forgive me, and do
+not misunderstand; I would not have betrayed /you/--there is honour
+among villains.  I would have confessed only my own crime; I would never
+have revealed yours--why should I?--it is unnecessary."
+
+"Are you in earnest--are you sincere?"
+
+"By my soul!"
+
+"Then, indeed, you are worthy of my friendship.  You will assume the
+whole forgery--an ugly word, but it avoids circumlocution--to be your
+own?"
+
+"I will."
+
+Ferrers paused a moment, and then stopped suddenly short.
+
+"You will swear this!"
+
+"By all that is holy."
+
+"Then mark me, Cesarini; if to-morrow Lady Florence be worse, I will
+throw no obstacle in the way of your confession, should you resolve to
+make it; I will even use that influence which you leave me, to palliate
+your offence, to win your pardon.  And yet to resign your hopes--to
+surrender one so loved to the arms of one so hated--it is
+magnanimous--it is noble--it is above my standard!  Do as you will."
+
+Cesarini was about to reply, when a servant on horseback abruptly turned
+the corner, almost at full speed.  He pulled in--his eye fell upon
+Lumley--he dismounted.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Ferrers," said the man breathlessly, "I have been to your
+house; they told me I might find you at Lord Saxingham's--I was just
+going there--"
+
+"Well, well, what is the matter?"
+
+"My poor master, sir--my lord, I mean--"
+
+"What of him?"
+
+"Had a fit, sir--the doctors are with him--my mistress--for my lord
+can't speak--sent me express for you."
+
+"Lend me your horse--there, just lengthen the stirrups."
+
+While the groom was engaged at the saddle, Ferrers turned to Cesarini.
+"Do nothing rashly," said he; "I would say, if I might, nothing at all,
+without consulting me; but mind, I rely, at all events, on your
+promise--your oath."
+
+"You may," said Cesarini, gloomily.
+
+"Farewell, then," said Lumley, as he mounted; and in a few moments he
+was out of sight.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+  "O world, thou wast the forest to this hart,
+
+     *  *  *  *  *
+
+   Dost thou here lie?"--/Julius Caesar/.
+
+AS Lumley leapt from his horse at his uncle's door, the disorder and
+bustle of those demesnes, in which the severe eye of the master usually
+preserved a repose and silence as complete as if the affairs of life
+were carried on by clockwork, struck upon him sensibly.  Upon the trim
+lawn the old women employed in cleaning and weeding the walks were all
+assembled in a cluster, shaking their heads ominously in concert, and
+carrying on their comments in a confused whisper.  In the hall, the
+housemaid (and it was the first housemaid whom Lumley had ever seen in
+that house, so invisibly were the wheels of the domestic machine carried
+on) was leaning on her broom, "swallowing with open mouth a footman's
+news."  It was as if, with the first slackening of the rigid rein, human
+nature broke loose from the conventual stillness in which it had ever
+paced its peaceful path in that formal mansion.
+
+"How is he?"
+
+"My lord is better, sir; he has spoken, I believe."
+
+At this moment a young face, swollen and red with weeping, looked down
+from the stairs; and presently Evelyn rushed breathlessly into the hall.
+
+"Oh, come up--come up--cousin Lumley; he cannot, cannot die in your
+presence; you always seem so full of life!  He cannot die; you do not
+think he will die?  Oh, take me with you, they won't let me go to him!"
+
+"Hush, my dear little girl, hush; follow me lightly--that is right."
+
+Lumley reached the door, tapped gently--entered; and the child also
+stole in unobserved or at least unprevented.  Lumley drew aside the
+curtains; the new lord was lying on his bed, with his head propped by
+pillows, his eyes wide open, with a glassy, but not insensible stare,
+and his countenance fearfully changed.
+
+Lady Vargrave was kneeling on the other side of the bed, one hand
+clasped in her husband's, the other bathing his temples, and her tears
+falling, without sob or sound, fast and copiously down her pale fair
+cheeks.
+
+Two doctors were conferring in the recess of the window; an apothecary
+was mixing drugs at a table; and two of the oldest female servants of
+the house were standing near the physicians, trying to overhear what was
+said.
+
+"My dear, dear uncle, how are you?" asked Lumley.
+
+"Ah, you are come, then," said the dying man, in a feeble yet distinct
+voice; "that is well--I have much to say to you."
+
+"But not now--not now--you are not strong enough," said the wife,
+imploringly.
+
+The doctors moved to the bedside.  Lord Vargrave waved his hand, and
+raised his head.
+
+"Gentlemen," said he, "I feel as if death were hastening upon me; I have
+much need, while my senses remain, to confer with my nephew.  Is the
+present a fitting time?--if I delay, are you sure that I shall have
+another?"
+
+The doctors looked at each other.
+
+"My lord," said one, "it may perhaps settle and relieve your mind to
+converse with your nephew; afterwards you may more easily compose
+yourself to sleep."
+
+"Take this cordial, then," said the other doctor.
+
+The sick man obeyed.  One of the physicians approached Lumley, and
+beckoned him aside.
+
+"Shall we send for his lordship's lawyer?" whispered the leech.
+
+"I am his heir-at-law," thought Lumley.  "Why, /no/, my dear sir--no, I
+think not, unless he expresses a desire to see him; doubtless my poor
+uncle has already settled his worldly affairs.  What is his state?"
+
+The doctor shook his head.  "I will speak to you, sir, after you have
+left his lordship."
+
+"What is the matter there?" cried the patient, sharply and querulously.
+"Clear the room--I would be alone with my nephew."
+
+The doctors disappeared; the old women reluctantly followed; when,
+suddenly, the little Evelyn sprang forward and threw herself on the
+breast of the dying man, sobbing as if her heart would break.
+
+"My poor child!--my sweet child--my own, own darling!" gasped out Lord
+Vargrave, folding his weak arms round her; "bless you--bless you! and
+God will bless you.  My wife," he added, with a voice far more tender
+than Lumley had ever before heard him address to Lady Vargrave, "if
+these be the last words I utter to you, let them express all the
+gratitude I feel for you, for duties never more piously discharged: you
+did not love me, it is true; and in health and pride that knowledge
+often made me unjust to you.  I have been severe--you have had much to
+bear--forgive me."
+
+"Oh! do not talk thus; you have been nobler, kinder than my deserts.
+How much I owe you--how little I have done in return!"
+
+"I cannot bear this; leave me, my dear, leave me.  I may live yet--I
+hope I may--I do not want to die.  The cup may pass from me.
+Go--go--and you, my child."
+
+"Ah, let /me/ stay."
+
+Lord Vargrave kissed the little creature, as she clung to his neck, with
+passionate affection, and then, placing her in her mother's arms, fell
+back exhausted on his pillow.  Lumley, with handkerchief to his eyes,
+opened the door to Lady Vargrave, who sobbed bitterly, and carefully
+closing it, resumed his station by his uncle.
+
+When Lumley Ferrers left the room, his countenance was gloomy and
+excited rather than sad.  He hurried to the room which he usually
+occupied, and remained there for some hours while his uncle slept--a
+long and sound sleep.  But the mother and the stepchild (now restored to
+the sick-room) did not desert their watch.
+
+It wanted about an hour to midnight, when the senior physician sought
+the nephew.
+
+"Your uncle asks for you, Mr. Ferrers; and I think it right to say that
+his last moments approach.  We have done all that can be done."
+
+"Is he fully aware of his danger?"
+
+"He is; and has spent the last two hours in prayer--it is a Christian's
+death-bed, sir."
+
+"Humph!" said Ferrers, as he followed the physician.  The room was
+darkened--a single lamp, carefully shaded, burned on a table, on which
+lay the Book of Life in Death: and with awe and grief on their faces,
+the mother and the child were kneeling beside the bed.
+
+"Come here, Lumley," faltered forth the fast-dying man.
+
+"There are none here but you three--nearest and dearest to me?--That is
+well.  Lumley, then, you know all--my wife, he knows all.  My child,
+give your hand to your cousin--so you are now plighted.  When you grow
+up, Evelyn, you will know that it is my last wish and prayer that you
+should be the wife of Lumley Ferrers.  In giving you this angel, Lumley,
+I atone to you for all seeming injustice.  And to you, my child, I
+secure the rank and honours to which I have painfully climbed, and which
+I am forbidden to enjoy.  Be kind to her, Lumley--you have a good and
+frank heart--let it be her shelter--she has never known a harsh word.
+God bless you all, and God forgive me--pray for me.  Lumley, to-morrow
+you will be Lord Vargrave, and by and by" (here a ghastly, but exultant
+smile flitted over the speaker's countenance), "you will be my
+Lady--Lady Vargrave.  Lady--so--so--Lady Var--"
+
+The words died on his trembling lips; he turned round, and, though he
+continued to breathe for more than an hour, Lord Vargrave never uttered
+another syllable.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+               "Hopes and fears
+   Start up alarmed, and o'er life's narrow verge
+   Look down--on what?--a fathomless abyss."--YOUNG.
+
+  "Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adieu!"
+               /Much Ado about Nothing/.
+
+THE wound which Maltravers had received was peculiarly severe and
+rankling.  It is true that he had never been what is called violently in
+love with Florence Lascelles; but from the moment in which he had been
+charmed and surprised into the character of a declared suitor, it was
+consonant with his scrupulous and loyal nature to view only the bright
+side of Florence's gifts and qualities, and to seek to enamour his
+grateful fancy with her beauty, her genius, and her tenderness for
+himself.  He had thus forced and formed his thoughts and hopes to centre
+all in one object; and Florence and the Future had grown words which
+conveyed the same meaning to his mind.  Perhaps he felt more bitterly
+her sudden and stunning accusations, couched as they were in language so
+unqualified, because they fell upon his pride rather than his affection,
+and were not softened away by the thousand excuses and remembrances
+which a passionate love would have invented and recalled.  It was a
+deep, concentrated sense of injury and insult, that hardened and soured
+his whole nature--wounded vanity, wounded pride, and wounded honour.
+
+And the blow, too, came upon him at a time when he was most dissatisfied
+with all other prospects.  He was disgusted with the littleness of the
+agents and springs of political life--he had formed a weary contempt for
+the barrenness of literary reputation.  At thirty years of age he had
+necessarily outlived the sanguine elasticity of early youth, and he had
+already broken up many of those later toys in business and ambition
+which afford the rattle and the hobby-borse to our maturer manhood.
+Always asking for something too refined and too exalted for human life,
+every new proof of unworthiness in men and things saddened or revolted a
+mind still too fastidious for that quiet contentment with the world as
+it is, which we must all learn before we can make our philosophy
+practical and our genius as fertile of the harvest as it may be prodigal
+of the blossom.  Haughty, solitary, and unsocial, the ordinary resources
+of mortified and disappointed men were not for Ernest Maltravers.
+Rigidly secluded in his country retirement, he consumed the days in
+moody wanderings; and in the evenings he turned to books with a spirit
+disdainful and fatigued.  So much had he already learned, that books
+taught him little that he did not already know.  And the biographies of
+authors, those ghost-like beings who seem to have had no life but in the
+shadow of their own haunting and imperishable thoughts, dimmed the
+inspiration he might have caught from their pages.  Those slaves of the
+Lamp, those Silkworms of the Closet, how little had they enjoyed, how
+little had they lived!  Condemned to a mysterious fate by the wholesale
+destinies of the world, they seemed born but to toil and to spin
+thoughts for the common crowd--and, their task performed in drudgery and
+in darkness, to die when no further service could be wrung from their
+exhaustion.  Names had they been in life, and as names they lived for
+ever, in life as in death, airy and unsubstantial phantoms.  It pleased
+Maltravers at this time to turn a curious eye towards the obscure and
+half-extinct philosophies of the ancient world.  He compared the Stoics
+with the Epicureans--those Epicureans who had given their own version to
+the simple and abstemious utilitarianism of their master.  He asked
+which was the wiser, to sharpen pain or to deaden pleasure--to bear all
+or to enjoy all; and, by a natural reaction which often happens to us in
+life, this man, hitherto so earnest, active-spirited, and resolved on
+great things, began to yearn for the drowsy pleasures of indolence.  The
+garden grew more tempting than the porch.  He seriously revolved the old
+alternative of the Grecian demi-god--might it not be wiser to abandon
+the grave pursuits to which he had been addicted, to dethrone the august
+but severe ideal in his heart, to cultivate the light loves and
+voluptuous trifles of the herd, and to plant the brief space of youth
+yet left to him with the myrtle and the rose?  As water flows over
+water, so new schemes rolled upon new--sweeping away every momentary
+impression, and leaving the surface facile equally to receive and to
+forget.  Such is the common state with men of imagination in those
+crises of life, when some great revolution of designs and hopes
+unsettles elements too susceptible of every changing wind.  And thus the
+weak are destroyed, while the strong relapse, after terrible but unknown
+convulsions, into that solemn harmony and order from which destiny and
+God draw their uses to mankind.
+
+It was from this irresolute contest between antagonist principles that
+Maltravers was aroused by the following letter from Florence Lascelles:
+
+
+"For three days and three sleepless nights I have debated with myself
+whether or not I ought to address you.  Oh, Ernest, were I what I was,
+in health, in pride, I might fear that, generous as you are, you would
+misconstrue my appeal; but that is now impossible.  Our union never can
+take place, and my hopes bound themselves to one sweet and melancholy
+hope, that you will remove from my last hours the cold and dark shadow
+of your resentment.  We have both been cruelly deceived and betrayed.
+Three days ago I discovered the perfidy that has been practised against
+us.  And then, ah! then, with all the weak human anguish of discovering
+it too late (/your curse is fulfilled/, Ernest!), I had at least one
+moment of proud, of exquisite rapture.  Ernest Maltravers, the hero of
+my dreams, stood pure and lofty as of old--a thing it was not unworthy
+to love, to mourn, to die for.  A letter in your handwriting had been
+shown to me, garbled and altered, as it seems--but I detected not the
+imposture--it was yourself, yourself alone, brought in false and
+horrible witness against yourself!  And could you think that any other
+evidence, the words, the oaths of others, would have convicted you in my
+eyes?  There you wronged me.  But I deserved it--I had bound myself to
+secrecy--the seal is taken from my lips in order to be set upon my tomb.
+Ernest, beloved Ernest--beloved till the last breath is extinct--till
+the last throb of this heart is stilled--write me one word of comfort
+and of pardon.  You will believe what I have imperfectly written, for
+you ever trusted my faith, if you have blamed my faults.  I am now
+comparatively happy--a word from you will, make me blest.  And Fate has,
+perhaps, been more merciful to both, than in our shortsighted and
+querulous human vision, we might, perhaps, believe; for now that the
+frame is brought low--and in the solitude of my chamber I can duly and
+humbly commune with mine own heart, I see the aspect of those faults
+which I once mistook for virtues--and feel that, had we been united, I,
+loving you ever, might not have constituted your happiness, and so have
+known the misery of losing your affection.  May He who formed you for
+glorious and yet all unaccomplished purposes strengthen you, when these
+eyes can no longer sparkle at your triumphs, or weep at your lightest
+sorrow.  You will go on in your broad and luminous career:--a few years,
+and my remembrance will have left but the vestige of a dream behind.
+But, but--I can write no more.  God bless you!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+  "Oh, stop this headlong current of your goodness;
+   It comes too fast upon a feeble soul."
+               DRYDEN: /Sebastian and Doras/.
+
+THE smooth physician had paid his evening visit; Lord Saxingham had gone
+to a cabinet dinner, for Life must ever walk side by side with Death:
+and Lady Florence Lascelles was alone.  It was a room adjoining her
+sleeping-apartment--a room in which, in the palmy days of the brilliant
+and wayward heiress, she had loved to display her fanciful and peculiar
+taste.  There had she been accustomed to muse, to write, to study--there
+had she first been dazzled by the novel glow of Ernest's undiurnal and
+stately thoughts--there had she first conceived the romance of girlhood,
+which had led her to confer with him, unknown--there had she first
+confessed to herself that fancy had begotten love--there had she gone
+through love's short and exhausting process of lone emotion;--the doubt,
+the hope, the ecstasy; the reverse, the terror; the inanimate
+despondency, the agonised despair!  And there now, sadly and patiently,
+she awaited the gradual march of inevitable decay.  And books and
+pictures, and musical instruments, and marble busts, half shadowed by
+classic draperies--and all the delicate elegancies of womanly
+refinement--still invested the chamber with a grace as cheerful as if
+youth and beauty were to be the occupants for ever--and the dark and
+noisome vault were not the only lasting residence for the things of
+clay.
+
+Florence Lascelles was dying; but not indeed wholly of that common, if
+mystic malady, a broken heart.  Her health, always delicate, because
+always preyed upon by a nervous, irritable, and feverish spirit, had
+been gradually and invisibly undermined, even before Ernest confessed
+his love.  In the singular lustre of those large-pupilled eyes--in the
+luxuriant transparency of that glorious bloom,--the experienced might
+long since have traced the seeds which cradled death.  In the night when
+her restless and maddened heart so imprudently drove her forth to
+forestall the communication of Lumley (whom she had sent to Maltravers,
+she scarce knew for what object, or with what hope), in that night she
+was already in a high state of fever.  The rain and the chill struck the
+growing disease within--her excitement gave it food and fire--delirium
+succeeded; and in that most fearful and fatal of all medical errors,
+which robs the frame, when it most needs strength, of the very principle
+of life, they had bled her into a temporary calm, and into permanent and
+incurable weakness.  Consumption seized its victim.  The physicians who
+attended her were the most renowned in London, and Lord Saxingham was
+firmly persuaded that there was no danger.  It was not in his nature to
+think that death would take so great a liberty with Lady Florence
+Lascelles, when there were so many poor people in the world whom there
+would be no impropriety in removing from it.  But Florence knew her
+danger, and her high spirit did not quail before it.  Yet, when
+Cesarini, stung beyond endurance by the horrors of his remorse, wrote
+and confessed all his own share of the fatal treason, though, faithful
+to his promise, he concealed that of his accomplice,--then, ah then, she
+did indeed repine at her doom, and long to look once more with the eyes
+of love and joy upon the face of the beautiful world.  But the illness
+of the body usually brings out a latent power and philosophy of the
+soul, which health never knows; and God has mercifully ordained it as
+the customary lot of nature, that in proportion as we decline into the
+grave, the sloping path is made smooth and easy to our feet; and every
+day, as the films of clay are removed from our eyes, Death loses the
+false aspect of the spectre, and we fall at last into its arms as a
+wearied child upon the bosom of its mother.
+
+It was with a heavy heart that Lady Florence listened to the monotonous
+clicking of the clock that announced the departure of moments few, yet
+not precious, still spared to her.  Her face buried in her hands, she
+bent over the small table beside her sofa, and indulged her melancholy
+thoughts.  Bowed was the haughty crest, unnerved the elastic shape that
+had once seemed born for majesty and command--no friends were near, for
+Florence had never made friends.  Solitary had been her youth, and
+solitary were her dying hours.
+
+As she thus sat and mused, a sound of carriage wheels in the street
+below slightly shook the room--it ceased--the carriage stopped at the
+door.  Florence looked up.  "No, no, it cannot be," she muttered; yet,
+while she spoke, a faint flush passed over her sunken and faded cheek,
+and the bosom heaved beneath the robe, "a world too wide for its shrunk"
+proportions.  There was a silence, which to her seemed interminable, and
+she turned away with a deep sigh, and a chill sinking of the heart.
+
+At this time her woman entered with a meaning and flurried look.
+
+"I beg your pardon, my lady--but--"
+
+"But what?"
+
+"Mr. Maltravers has called, and asked for your ladyship--so, my lady,
+Mr. Burton sent for me, and I said, my lady is too unwell to see any
+one; but Mr. Maltravers would not be denied; and he is waiting in my
+lord's library, and insisted on my coming up and 'nouncing him, my
+lady."
+
+Now Mrs. Shinfield's words were not euphonistic, nor her voice
+mellifluous; but never had eloquence seemed to Florence so effective.
+Youth, love, beauty, all rushed back upon her at once, brightening her
+eyes, her cheek, and filling up ruin with sudden and deceitful light.
+
+"Well," she said, after a pause, "let Mr. Maltravers come up."
+
+"Come up, my lady?  Bless me!--let me just 'range your hair--your
+ladyship is really in such dish-a-bill."
+
+"Best as it is, Shinfield--he will excuse all.--Go."
+
+Mrs. Shinfield shrugged her shoulders, and departed.  A few moments
+more--a step on the stairs, the creaking of the door,--and Maltravers
+and Florence were again alone.  He stood motionless on the threshold.
+She had involuntarily risen, and so they stood opposite to each other,
+and the lamp fell full upon her face.  Oh, Heaven! when did that sight
+cease to haunt the heart of Maltravers!  When shall that altered aspect
+not pass as a ghost before his eyes!--there it is, faithful and
+reproachful alike in solitude and in crowds--it is seen in the glare of
+noon--it passes dim and wan at night beneath the stars and the earth--it
+looked into his heart and left its likeness there for ever and for ever!
+Those cheeks, once so beautifully rounded, now sunken into lines and
+hollows--the livid darkness beneath the eyes--the whitened lip--the
+sharp, anxious, worn expression, which had replaced that glorious and
+beaming regard from which all the life of genius, all the sweet pride of
+womanhood had glowed forth, and in which not only the intelligence, but
+the eternity of the soul, seemed visibly wrought.
+
+There he stood, aghast and appalled.  At length a low groan broke from
+his lips--he rushed forward, sank on his knees beside her, and clasping
+both her hands, sobbed aloud as he covered them with kisses.  All the
+iron of his strong nature was broken down, and his emotions, long
+silenced, and now uncontrollable and resistless, were something terrible
+to behold!
+
+"Do not--do not weep so," murmured Lady Florence, frightened by his
+vehemence; "I am sadly changed, but the fault is mine--Ernest, it is
+mine; best, kindest, gentlest, how could I have been so mad!  And you
+forgive me?  I am yours again--a little while yours.  Ah, do not grieve
+while I am so blessed!"
+
+As she spoke, her tears--tears from a source how different from that
+whence broke the scorching and intolerable agony of his own! fell soft
+upon his bended head, and the hands that still convulsively strained
+hers.  Maltravers looked wildly up into her countenance, and shuddered
+as he saw her attempt to smile.  He rose abruptly, threw himself into a
+chair, and covered his face.  He was seeking by a violent effort to
+master himself, and it was only by the heaving of his chest, and now and
+then a gasp as for breath, that he betrayed the stormy struggle within.
+
+Florence gazed at him a moment in bitter, in almost selfish penitence.
+"And this was the man who seemed to me so callous to the softer
+sympathies--this was the heart I trampled upon--this the nature I
+distrusted!"
+
+She came near him, trembling and with feeble steps--she laid her hand
+upon his shoulder, and the fondness of love came over her, and she wound
+her arms around him.
+
+"It is our fate--it is my fate," said Maltravers at last, awaking as
+from a hideous dream, and in a hollow but calm voice--"we are the things
+of destiny, and the wheel has crushed us.  It is an awful state of being
+this human life!--What is wisdom--virtue--faith to men--piety to
+Heaven--all the nurture we bestow on ourselves--all our desire to win a
+loftier sphere, when we are thus the tools of the merest chance--the
+victims of the pettiest villainy; and our very existence--our very
+senses almost, at the mercy of every traitor and every fool!"
+
+There was something in Ernest's voice, as well as in his reflections,
+which appeared so unnaturally calm and deep that it startled Florence,
+with a fear more acute than his previous violence had done.  He rose,
+and muttering to himself, walked to and fro, as if insensible of her
+presence--in fact he was so.  At length he stopped short, and fixing his
+eyes upon Lady Florence, said in a whispered and thrilling tone:
+
+"Now, then, the name of our undoer?"
+
+"No, Ernest, no--never, unless you promise me to forego the purpose
+which I read in your eyes.  He has confessed--he is penitent--I have
+forgiven him--you will do so too!"
+
+"His name!" repeated Maltravers, and his face, before very flushed, was
+unnaturally pale.
+
+"Forgive him--promise me."
+
+"His name, I say,--his name?"
+
+"Is this kind?--you terrify me--you will kill me!" faltered out
+Florence, and she sank on the sofa exhausted: her nerves, now so
+weakened, were perfectly unstrung by his vehemence, and she wrung her
+hands and wept piteously.
+
+"You will not tell me his name?" said Maltravers, softly.  "Be it so.  I
+will ask no more.  I can discover it myself.  Fate the Avenger will
+reveal it."
+
+At the thought he grew more composed; and as Florence wept on, the
+unnatural concentration and fierceness of his mind again gave way, and,
+seating himself beside her, he uttered all that could soothe, and
+comfort, and console.  And Florence was soon soothed!  And there, while
+over their heads the grim skeleton was holding the funeral pall, they
+again exchanged their vows, and again, with feelings fonder than of old,
+spoke of love.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+               "Erichtho, then,
+   Breathes her dire murmurs, which enforce him bear
+   Her baneful secrets to the spirits of horror."--MARLOWE.
+
+WITH a heavy step Maltravers ascended the stairs of his lonely house
+that night, and heavily, with a suppressed groan, did he sink upon the
+first chair that proffered rest.
+
+It was intensely cold.  During his long interview with Lady Florence,
+his servant had taken the precaution to go to Seamore Place, and make
+some hasty preparations for the owner's return.  But the bedroom looked
+comfortless and bare, the curtains were taken down, the carpets were
+taken up (a single man's housekeeper is wonderfully provident in these
+matters; the moment his back is turned, she bustles, she displaces, she
+exults; "things can be put a little to rights!").  Even the fire would
+not burn clear, but gleamed sullen and fitful from the smothering fuel.
+It was a large chamber, and the lights imperfectly filled it.  On the
+table lay parliamentary papers, and pamphlets, and bills and
+presentation-books from younger authors--evidences of the teeming
+business of that restless machine the world.  But of all this Maltravers
+was not sensible: the winter frost numbed not his feverish veins.  His
+servant, who loved him, as all who saw much of Maltravers did, fidgeted
+anxiously about the room, and plied the sullen fire, and laid out the
+comfortable dressing-robe, and placed wine on the table, and asked
+questions which were not answered, and pressed service which was not
+heeded.  The little wheels of life go on, even when the great wheel is
+paralysed or broken.  Maltravers was, if I may so express it, in a kind
+of mental trance.  His emotions had left him thoroughly exhausted.  He
+felt that torpor which succeeds and is again the precursor of great woe.
+At length he was alone, and the solitude half unconsciously restored him
+to the sense of his heavy misery.  For it may be observed, that when
+misfortune has stricken us home, the presence of any one seems to
+interfere between the memory and the heart.  Withdraw the intruder, and
+the lifted hammer falls at once upon the anvil!  He rose as the door
+closed on his attendant--rose with a start, and pushed the hat from his
+gathered brows.  He walked for some moments to and fro, and the air of
+the room, freezing as it was, oppressed him.
+
+There are times when the arrow quivers within us--in which all space
+seems too confined.  Like the wounded hart, we could fly on for ever;
+there is a vague desire of escape--a yearning, almost insane, to get out
+from our own selves: the soul struggles to flee away, and take the wings
+of the morning.
+
+Impatiently, at last, did Maltravers throw open his window; it
+communicated with a balcony, built out to command the wide view which,
+from a certain height, that part of the park affords.  He stepped into
+the balcony and bared his breast to the keen air.  The uncomfortable and
+icy heavens looked down upon the hoar-rime that gathered over the grass,
+and the ghostly boughs of the deathlike trees.  All things in the world
+without brought the thought of the grave, and the pause of being, and
+the withering up of beauty, closer and closer to his soul.  In the
+palpable and griping winter, death itself seemed to wind around him its
+skeleton and joyless arms.  And as thus he stood, and, wearied with
+contending against, passively yielded to, the bitter passions that wrung
+and gnawed his heart,--he heard not a sound at the door--nor the
+footsteps on the stairs--nor knew he that a visitor was in his
+room--till he felt a hand upon his shoulder, and turning round, he
+beheld the white and livid countenance of Castruccio Cesarini.
+
+"It is a dreary night and a solemn hour, Maltravers," said the Italian,
+with a distorted smile--"a fitting night and time for my interview with
+you."
+
+"Away!" said Maltravers, in an impatient tone.  "I am not at leisure for
+these mock heroics."
+
+"Ay, but you shall hear me to the end.  I have watched your arrival--I
+have counted the hours in which you remained with her--I have followed
+you home.  If you have human passions, humanity itself must be dried up
+within you, and the wild beast in his cavern is not more fearful to
+encounter.  Thus, then, I seek and brave you.  Be still.  Has Florence
+revealed to you the name of him who belied you, and who betrayed herself
+to the death?"
+
+"Ha!" said Maltravers, growing very pale, and fixing his eyes on
+Cesarini, "you are not the man--my suspicions lighted elsewhere."
+
+"I am the man.  Do thy worst."
+
+Scarce were the words uttered, when, with a fierce cry, Maltravers threw
+himself on the Italian;--he tore him from his footing--he grasped him in
+his arms as a child--he literally whirled him around and on high; and in
+that maddening paroxysm, it was, perhaps, but the balance of a feather,
+in the conflicting elements of revenge and reason, which withheld
+Maltravers from hurling the criminal from the fearful height on which
+they stood.  The temptation passed--Cesarini leaned safe, unharmed, but
+half senseless with mingled rage and fear, against the wall.
+
+He was alone--Maltravers had left him--had fled from himself--fled into
+the chamber--fled for refuge from human passions to the wing of the
+All-Seeing and All-Present.  "Father," he groaned, sinking on his knees,
+"support me, save me: without Thee I am lost."
+
+Slowly Cesarini recovered himself, and re-entered the apartment.  A
+string in his brain was already loosened, and, sullen and ferocious, he
+returned again to goad the lion that had spared him.  Maltravers had
+already risen from his brief prayer.  With locked and rigid countenance,
+with arms folded on his breast, he stood confronting the Italian, who
+advanced towards him with a menacing brow and arm, but halted
+involuntarily at the sight of that commanding aspect.
+
+"Well, then," said Maltravers at last, with a tone preternaturally calm
+and low, "you then are the man.  Speak on--what arts did you employ?"
+
+"Your own letter.  When, many months ago, I wrote to tell you of the
+hopes it was mine to conceive, and to ask your opinion of her I loved,
+how did you answer me?  With doubts, with depreciation, with covert and
+polished scorn, of the very woman whom, with a deliberate treachery, you
+afterwards wrested from my worshipping and adoring love.  That letter I
+garbled.  I made the doubts you expressed of my happiness seem doubts of
+your own.  I changed the dates--I made the letter itself appear written,
+not on your first acquaintance with her, but subsequent to your plighted
+and accepted vows.  Your own handwriting convicted you of mean
+suspicions and of sordid motives.  These were my arts."
+
+"They were most noble.  Do you abide by them--or repent?"
+
+"For what I have done to /thee/ I have no repentance.  Nay, I regard
+thee still as the aggressor.  Thou hast robbed me of her who was all the
+world to me--and, be thine excuses what they may, I hate thee with a
+hate that cannot slumber--that abjures the abject name of remorse!  I
+exult in the very agonies thou endurest.  But for her--the stricken--the
+dying!  O God, O God!  The blow falls upon mine own head!"
+
+"Dying!" said Maltravers, slowly and with a shudder.  "No, no--not
+dying--or what art thou?  Her murderer!  And what must I be?  Her
+avenger!"
+
+Overpowered with his own passions, Cesarini sank down and covered his
+face with his clasped hands.  Maltravers stalked gloomily to and fro the
+apartment.  There was silence for some moments.
+
+At length Maltravers paused opposite Cesarini and thus addressed him:
+
+"You have come hither not so much to confess the basest crime of which
+man can be guilty, as to gloat over my anguish and to brave me to
+revenge my wrongs.  Go, man, go--for the present you are safe.  While
+she lives, my life is not mine to hazard--if she recover, I can pity you
+and forgive.  To me your offence, foul though it be, sinks below
+contempt itself.  It is the consequences of that crime as they relate
+to--to--that noble and suffering woman, which can alone raise the
+despicable into the tragic and make your life a worthy and a necessary
+offering--not to revenge, but justice:--life for life--victim for
+victim!  'Tis the old law--'tis a righteous one."
+
+"You shall not, with your accursed coldness, thus dispose of me as you
+will, and arrogate the option to smite or save!  No," continued
+Cesarini, stamping his foot--"no; far from seeking forbearance at your
+hands--I dare and defy you!  You think I have injured you--I, on the
+other hand, consider that the wrong has come from yourself.  But for
+you, she might have loved me--have been mine.  Let that pass.  But for
+you, at least, it is certain that I should neither have sullied my soul
+with a vile sin, nor brought the brightest of human beings to the grave.
+If she dies, the murder may be mine, but you were the cause--the devil
+that tempted to the offence.  I defy and spit upon you--I have no
+softness left in me--my veins are fire--my heart thirsts for blood.
+You--you--have still the privilege to see--to bless--to tend her:--and
+I--I, who loved her so--who could have kissed the earth she trod
+on--I--well, well, no matter--I hate you--I insult you--I call you
+villain and dastard--I throw myself on the laws of honour, and I demand
+that conflict you defer or deny!"
+
+"Home, doter--home--fall on thy knees, and pray to Heaven for
+pardon--make up thy dread account--repine not at the days yet thine to
+wash the black spot from thy soul.  For, while I speak, I foresee too
+well that her days are numbered, and with her thread of life is entwined
+thine own.  Within twelve hours from her last moment, we shall meet
+again: but now I am as ice and stone,--thou canst not move me.  Her
+closing life shall not be darkened by the aspect of blood--by the
+thought of the sacrifice it demands.  Begone, or menials shall cast thee
+from my door: those lips are too base to breathe the same air as honest
+men.  Begone, I say, begone!"
+
+Though scarce a muscle moved in the lofty countenance of
+Maltravers--though no frown darkened the majestic brow--though no fire
+broke from the steadfast and scornful eye--there was a kingly authority
+in the aspect, in the extended arm, the stately crest, and a power in
+the swell of the stern voice, which awed and quelled the unhappy being
+whose own passions exhausted and unmanned him.  He strove to fling back
+scorn to scorn, but his lips trembled, and his voice died in hollow
+murmurs within his breast.  Maltravers regarded him with a crushing and
+intense disdain.  The Italian with shame and wrath wrestled against
+himself, but in vain: the cold eye that was fixed upon him was as a
+spell, which the fiend within him could not rebel against or resist.
+Mechanically he moved to the door,--then turning round, he shook his
+clenched hand at Maltravers, and, with a wild, maniacal laugh, rushed
+from the apartment.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+  "On some fond breast the parting soul relies."--GRAY.
+
+NOT a day passed in which Maltravers was absent from the side of
+Florence.  He came early, he went late.  He subsided into his former
+character of an accepted suitor, without a word of explanation with Lord
+Saxingham.  That task was left to Florence.  She doubtless performed it
+well, for his lordship seemed satisfied though grave, and, almost for
+the first time in his life, sad.  Maltravers never reverted to the cause
+of their unhappy dissension.  Nor from that night did he once give way
+to whatever might be his more agonised and fierce emotions--he never
+affected to reproach himself--he never bewailed with a vain despair
+their approaching separation.  Whatever it cost him, he stood collected
+and stoical in the intense power of his self control.  He had but one
+object, one desire, one hope--to save the last hours of Florence
+Lascelles from every pang--to brighten and smooth the passage across the
+Solemn Bridge.  His forethought, his presence of mind, his care, his
+tenderness, never forsook him for an instant: they went beyond the
+attributes of men, they went into all the fine, the indescribable
+minutiae by which woman makes herself, "in pain and anguish," the
+"ministering angel."  It was as if he had nerved and braced his whole
+nature to one duty--as if that duty were more felt than affection
+itself--as if he were resolved that Florence should not remember that
+/she had no mother/!
+
+And, oh, then, how Florence loved him! how far more luxurious, in its
+grateful and clinging fondness, was that love, than the wild and jealous
+fire of their earlier connection!  Her own character, as is often the
+case in lingering illness, became incalculably more gentle and softened
+down, as the shadows closed around it.  She loved to make him read and
+talk to her--and her ancient poetry of thought now grew mellowed, as it
+were, into religion, which is indeed poetry with a stronger wing. . . .
+There was a world beyond the grave--there was life out of the chrysalis
+sleep of death--they would yet be united.  And Maltravers, who was a
+solemn and intense believer in the GREAT HOPE, did not neglect the
+purest and highest of all the fountains of solace.
+
+Often in that quiet room, in that gorgeous mansion, which had been the
+scene of all vain or worldly schemes--of flirtations and feastings, and
+political meetings and cabinet dinners, and all the bubbles of the
+passing wave--often there did these persons, whose position to each
+other had been so suddenly and so strangely changed--converse on those
+matters--daring and divine--which "make the bridal of the earth and
+sky."
+
+"How fortunate am I," said Florence, one day, "that my choice fell on
+one who thinks as you do!  How your words elevate and exalt me!--yet
+once I never dreamt of asking your creed on these questions.  It is in
+sorrow or sickness that we learn why Faith was given as a soother to
+man--Faith, which is Hope with a holier name--hope that knows neither
+deceit nor death.  Ah, how wisely do you speak of the /philosophy/ of
+belief!  It is, indeed, the telescope through which the stars grow large
+upon our gaze.  And to you, Ernest, my beloved--comprehended and known
+at last--to you I leave, when I am gone, that monitor--that friend; you
+will know yourself what you teach to me.  And when you look not on the
+heaven alone but in all space--on all the illimitable creation, you will
+know that I am there!  For the home of a spirit is wherever spreads the
+Universal Presence of God.  And to what numerous stages of being, what
+paths, what duties, what active and glorious tasks in other worlds may
+we not be reserved--perhaps to know and share them together, and mount
+age after age higher in the scale of being.  For surely in heaven there
+is no pause or torpor--we do not lie down in calm and unimprovable
+repose.  Movement and progress will remain the law and condition of
+existence.  And there will be efforts and duties for us above as there
+have been below."
+
+It was in this theory, which Maltravers shared, that the character of
+Florence, her overflowing life and activity of thought--her aspirations,
+her ambition, were still displayed.  It was not so much to the calm and
+rest of the grave that she extended her unreluctant gaze, as to the
+light and glory of a renewed and progressive existence.
+
+It was while thus they sat, the low voice of Ernest, tranquil yet half
+trembling with the emotions he sought to restrain--sometimes sobering,
+sometimes yet more elevating, the thoughts of Florence, that Lord
+Vargrave was announced, and Lumley Ferrers, who had now succeeded to
+that title, entered the room.  It was the first time that Florence had
+seen him since the death of his uncle--the first time Maltravers
+had seen him since the evening so fatal to Florence.  Both
+started--Maltravers rose and walked to the window.  Lord Vargrave took
+the hand of his cousin and pressed it to his lips in silence, while his
+looks betokened feelings that for once were genuine.
+
+"You see, Lumley, I am resigned," said Florence, with a sweet smile.
+"I am resigned and happy."
+
+Lumley glanced at Maltravers, and met a cold, scrutinising, piercing
+eye, from which he shrank with some confusion.  He recovered himself in
+an instant.
+
+"I am rejoiced, my cousin, I /am/ rejoiced," said he, very earnestly,
+"to see Maltravers here again.  Let us now hope the best."
+
+Maltravers walked deliberately up to Lumley.  "Will you take my hand
+/now/, too?" said he, with deep meaning in his tone.
+
+"More willingly than ever," said Lumley; and he did not shrink as he
+said it.
+
+"I am satisfied," replied Maltravers, after a pause, and in a voice that
+expressed more than his words.
+
+There is in some natures so great a hoard of generosity, that it often
+dulls their acuteness.  Maltravers could not believe that frankness
+could be wholly a mask--it was an hypocrisy he knew not of.  He himself
+was not incapable, had circumstances so urged him, of great crimes; nay,
+the design of one crime lay at that moment deadly and dark within his
+heart, for he had some passions which in so resolute a character could
+produce, should the wind waken them into storm, dire and terrible
+effects.  Even at the age of thirty, it was yet uncertain whether Ernest
+Maltravers might become an exemplary or an evil man.  But he could
+sooner have strangled a foe than taken the hand of a man whom he had
+once betrayed.
+
+"I love to think you friends," said Florence, gazing at them
+affectionately, "and to you, at least, Lumley, such friendship should be
+a blessing.  I always loved you much and dearly, Lumley--loved you as a
+brother, though our characters often jarred."
+
+Lumley winced.  "For Heaven's sake," he cried, "do not speak thus
+tenderly to me--I cannot bear it, and look on you and think--"
+
+"That I am dying.  Kind words become us best when our words are
+approaching to the last.  But enough of this--I grieved for your loss."
+
+"My poor uncle!" said Lumley, eagerly changing the conversation--"the
+shock was sudden; and melancholy duties have absorbed me so till this
+day, that I could not come even to you.  It soothed me, however, to
+learn, in answer to my daily inquiries, that Ernest was here.  For my
+part," he added with a faint smile, "I have had duties as well as
+honours devolved on me.  I am left guardian to an heiress, and betrothed
+to a child."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Why, my poor uncle was so fondly attached to his wife's daughter, that
+he has left her the bulk of his property: a very small estate--not L2000
+a year--goes with the title (a new title, too, which requires twice as
+much to carry it off and make its pinchbeck pass for gold).  In order,
+however, to serve a double purpose, secure to his /protegee/ his own
+beloved peerage, and atone to his nephew for the loss of wealth--he has
+left it a last request, that I should marry the young lady over whom I
+am appointed guardian, when she is eighteen--alas!  I shall then be at
+the other side of forty!  If she does not take to so mature a
+bridegroom, she loses thirty--only thirty of the L200,000 settled upon
+her, which goes to me as a sugar-plum after the nauseous draught of the
+young lady's 'No.'  Now, you know all.  His widow, really an exemplary
+young woman, has a jointure of L1500 a year, and the villa.  It is not
+much, but she is contented."
+
+The lightness of the new peer's tone revolted Maltravers, and he turned
+impatiently away.  But Lord Vargrave, resolving not to suffer the
+conversation to glide back to sorrowful subjects, which he always hated,
+turned round to Ernest, and said, "Well, my dear Ernest, I see by the
+papers that you are to have N------'s late appointment--it is a very
+rising office.  I congratulate you."
+
+"I have refused," said Maltravers, drily.
+
+"Bless me!--indeed!--why?"
+
+Ernest bit his lip, and frowned; but his glance wandering unconsciously
+at Florence, Lumley thought he detected the true reply to his question,
+and became mute.
+
+The conversation was afterwards embarrassed and broken up; Lumley went
+away as soon as he could, and Lady Florence that night had a severe fit,
+and could not leave her bed the next day.  That confinement she had
+struggled against to the last; and now, day by day, it grew more
+frequent and inevitable.  The steps of Death became accelerated.  And
+Lord Saxingham, wakened at last to the mournful truth, took his place by
+his daughter's side, and forgot that he was a cabinet minister.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+  "Away, my friends, why take such pains to know
+   What some brave marble soon in church shall show?"
+                    CRABBE.
+
+IT may seem strange, but Maltravers had never loved Lady Florence as he
+did now.  Was it the perversity of human nature that makes the things of
+mortality dearer to us in proportion as they fade from our hopes, like
+birds whose hues are only unfolded when they take wing and vanish amidst
+the skies; or was it that he had ever doted more on loveliness of mind
+than that of form, and the first bloomed out the more, the more the last
+decayed?  A thing to protect, to soothe, to shelter--oh, how dear it is
+to the pride of man!  The haughty woman who can stand alone and requires
+no leaning-place in our heart, loses the spell of her sex.
+
+I pass over those stages of decline gratuitously painful to record; and
+which in this case mine cannot be the cold and technical hand to trace.
+At length came that time when physicians could define within a few days
+the final hour of release.  And latterly the mocking pruderies of rank
+had been laid aside, and Maltravers had, for some hours at least in the
+day, taken his watch beside the couch to which the admired and brilliant
+Florence Lascelles was now almost constantly reduced.  But her high and
+heroic spirit was with her to the last.  To the last she could endure
+love and hope.  One day when Maltravers left his post, she besought him,
+with more solemnity than usual, to return that evening.  She fixed the
+precise hour, and she sighed heavily when he departed.  Maltravers
+paused in the hall to speak to the physician, who was just quitting Lord
+Saxingham's library.  Ernest spoke to him for some moments calmly, and
+when he heard the fiat, he betrayed no other emotion than a slight
+quiver of the lip!  "I must not weep for her yet," he muttered, as he
+turned from the door.  He went thence to the house of a gentleman of his
+own age, with whom he had formed that kind of acquaintance which never
+amounts to familiar friendship, but rests upon mutual respect, and is
+often more ready than professed friendship itself to confer mutual
+service.  Colonel Danvers was a man who usually sat next to Maltravers
+in parliament; they voted together, and thought alike on principles both
+of politics and honour: they would have lent thousands to each other
+without bond or memorandum; and neither ever wanted a warm and indignant
+advocate when he was abused behind his back in the presence of the
+other.  Yet their tastes and ordinary habits were not congenial; and
+when they met in the streets, they never said, as they would to
+companions they esteemed less, "Let us spend the day together!"  Such
+forms of acquaintance are not uncommon among honourable men who have
+already formed habits and pursuits of their own, which they cannot
+surrender even to friendship.  Colonel Danvers was not at home--they
+believed he was at his club, of which Ernest also was a member.  Thither
+Maltravers bent his way.  On arriving, he found that Danvers had been at
+the club an hour ago, and left word that he should shortly return.
+Maltravers entered and quietly sat down.  The room was full of its daily
+loungers; but he did not shrink from, he did not even heed, the crowd.
+He felt not the desire of solitude--there was solitude enough within
+him.  Several distinguished public men were there, grouped around the
+fire, and many of the hangers-on and satellites of political life; they
+were talking with eagerness and animation, for it was a season of great
+party conflict.  Strange as it may seem, though Maltravers was then
+scarcely sensible of their conversation, it all came back vividly and
+faithfully on him afterwards, in the first hours of reflection on his
+own future plans, and served to deepen and consolidate his disgust of
+the world.  They were discussing the character of a great statesman
+whom, warmed but by the loftiest and purest motives, they were unable to
+understand.  Their gross suspicions, their coarse jealousies, their
+calculations of patriotism by place, all that strips the varnish from
+the face of that fair harlot--Political Ambition--sank like caustic into
+his spirit.  A gentleman seeing him sit silent, with his hat over his
+moody brows, civilly extended to him the paper he was reading.
+
+"It is the second edition; you will find the last French express."
+
+"Thank yon," said Maltravers; and the civil man started as he heard the
+brief answer; there was something so inexpressibly prostrate and
+broken-spirited in the voice that uttered it.
+
+Maltravers's eyes fell mechanically on the columns, and caught his own
+name.  That work which, in the fair retirement of Temple Grove it had so
+pleased him to compose--in every page and every thought of which
+Florence had been consulted--which was so inseparably associated with
+her image, and glorified by the light of her kindred genius--was just
+published.  It had been completed long since; but the publisher had, for
+some excellent reason of the craft, hitherto delayed its appearance.
+Maltravers knew nothing of its publication; he had meant, after his
+return to town, to have sent to forbid its appearance; but his thoughts
+of late had crushed everything else out of his memory--he had forgotten
+its existence.  And now, in all the pomp and parade of authorship, it
+was sent into the world!  /Now/, /now/, when it was like an indecent
+mockery of the Bed of Death--a sacrilege, an impiety!  There is a
+terrible disconnection between the author and the man---the author's
+life and the man's life--the eras of visible triumph may be those of the
+most intolerable, though unrevealed and unconjectured anguish.  The book
+that delighted us to compose may first appear in the hour when all
+things under the sun are joyless.  This had been Ernest Maltravers's
+most favoured work.  It had been conceived in a happy hour of great
+ambition--it had been executed with that desire of truth, which, in the
+mind of genius, becomes ART.  How little in the solitary hours stolen
+from sleep had he thought of self, and that labourer's hire called
+"fame!" how had he dreamt that he was promulgating secrets to make his
+kind better, and wiser, and truer to the great aims of life!  How had
+Florence, and Florence alone, understood the beatings of his heart in
+every page!  /And now/!--it so chanced that the work was reviewed in the
+paper he read--it was not only a hostile criticism, it was a personally
+abusive diatribe, a virulent invective.  All the motives that can darken
+or defile were ascribed to him.  All the mean spite of some mean mind
+was sputtered forth.  Had the writer known the awful blow that awaited
+Maltravers at that time, it is not in man's nature but that he would
+have shrunk from this petty gall upon the wrung withers; but, as I have
+said, there is a terrible disconnection between the author and the man.
+The first is always at our mercy--of the last we know nothing.  At such
+an hour Maltravers could feel none of the contempt that proud--none of
+the wrath that vain, minds feel at these stings.  He could feel nothing
+but an undefined abhorrence of the world, and of the aims and objects he
+had pursued so long.  Yet that even he did not then feel.  He was in a
+dream; but as men remember dreams, so when he awoke did he loathe his
+own former aspirations, and sicken at their base rewards.  It was the
+first time since his first year of inexperienced authorship that abuse
+had had the power even to vex him for a moment.  But here, when the cup
+was already full, was the drop that overflowed.  The great column of his
+past world was gone, and all else seemed crumbling away.
+
+At length Colonel Danvers entered.  Maltravers drew him aside, and they
+left the club.
+
+"Danvers," said the latter, "the time in which I told you I should need
+your services is near at hand; let me see you, if possible, to-night."
+
+"Certainly--I shall be, at the House till eleven.  After that hour you
+will find me at home."
+
+"I thank you."
+
+"Cannot this matter be arranged amicably?"
+
+"No, it is a quarrel of life and death."
+
+"Yet the world is really growing too enlightened for these old mimicries
+of single combat."
+
+"There are some cases in which human nature and its deep wrongs will be
+ever stronger than the world and its philosophy.  Duels and wars belong
+to the same principle; both are sinful on light grounds and poor
+pretexts.  But it is not sinful for a soldier to defend his country from
+invasion, nor for man, with a man's heart, to vindicate truth and honour
+with his life.  The robber that asks me for money I am allowed to shoot.
+Is the robber that tears from me treasures never to be replaced, to go
+free?  These are the inconsistencies of a pseudo-ethics, which, as long
+as we are made of flesh and blood, we can never subscribe to."
+
+"Yet the ancients," said Danvers, with a smile, "were as passionate as
+ourselves, and they dispensed with duels."
+
+"Yes, because they resorted to assassination!" answered Maltravers, with
+a gloomy frown.  "As in revolutions all law is suspended, so are there
+stormy events and mighty injuries in life which are as revolutions to
+individuals.  Enough of this--it is no time to argue like the schoolmen.
+When we meet you shall know all, and you will judge like me.  Good day!"
+
+"What, are you going already?  Maltravers, you look ill, your hand is
+feverish--you should take advice."
+
+Maltravers smiled--but the smile was not like his own--shook his head,
+and strode rapidly away.
+
+Three of the London clocks, one after the other, had told the hour of
+nine, as a tall and commanding figure passed up the street towards
+Saxingham House.  Five doors before you reach that mansion there is a
+crossing, and at this spot stood a young man, in whose face youth itself
+looked sapless and blasted.  It was then March;--the third of March; the
+weather was unusually severe and biting, even for that angry month.
+There had been snow in the morning, and it lay white and dreary in
+various ridges along the street.  But the wind was not still in the keen
+but quiet sharpness of frost; on the contrary, it howled almost like a
+hurricane through the desolate thoroughfares, and the lamps flickered
+unsteadily in the turbulent gusts.  Perhaps it was the blasts which
+increased the haggardness of aspect in the young man I have mentioned.
+His hair, which was much longer than is commonly worn, was tossed wildly
+from cheeks preternaturally shrunken, hollow, and livid: and the frail,
+thin form seemed scarcely able to support itself against the rush of the
+winds.
+
+As the tall figure, which, in its masculine stature and proportions, and
+a peculiar and nameless grandeur of bearing, strongly contrasted that of
+the younger man, now came to the spot where the streets met, it paused
+abruptly.
+
+"You are here once more, Castruccio Cesarini; it is well!" said the low
+but ringing voice of Ernest Maltravers.  "This, I believe, will not be
+our last interview to-night."
+
+"I ask you, sir," said Cesarini, in a tone in which pride struggled with
+emotion--"I ask you to tell me how she is; whether you know--I cannot
+speak--"
+
+"Your work is nearly done," answered Maltravers.  "A few hours more, and
+your victim, for she is yours, will bear her tale to the Great Judgment
+Seat.  Murderer as you are, tremble, for your own hour approaches!"
+
+"She dies and I cannot see her! and you are permitted that last glimpse
+of human perfectness; you who never loved her as I did; you--hated and
+detested! you--"
+
+Cesarini paused, and his voice died away, choked in his own convulsive
+gaspings for breath.
+
+Maltravers looked at him from the height of his erect and lofty form,
+with a merciless eye; for in this one quarter, Maltravers had shut out
+pity from his soul.
+
+"Weak criminal!" said he, "hear me.  You received at my hands
+forbearance, friendship, fostering and anxious care.  When your own
+follies plunged you into penury, mine was the unseen hand that plucked
+you from famine, or the prison.  I strove to redeem, and save, and raise
+you, and endow your miserable spirit with the thirst and the power of
+honour and independence.  The agent of that wish was Florence Lascelles;
+you repaid us well! a base and fraudulent forgery, attaching meanness to
+me, fraught with agony and death to her.  Your conscience at last smote
+you; you revealed to her your crime--one spark of manhood made you
+reveal it also to myself.  Fresh as I was in that moment from the
+contemplations of the ruin you had made, I curbed the impulse that would
+have crushed the life from your bosom.  I told you to live on while life
+was left to her.  If she recovered, I could forgive; if she died, I must
+avenge.  We entered into that solemn compact, and in a few hours the
+bond will need the seal: it is the blood of one of us.  Castruccio
+Cesarini, there is justice in Heaven. Deceive yourself not; you will
+fall by my hand.  When the hour comes, you will hear from me.  Let me
+pass--I have no more now to say."
+
+Every syllable of this speech was uttered with that thrilling
+distinctness which seems as if the depth of the heart spoke in the
+voice.  But Cesarini did not appear to understand its import.  He seized
+Maltravers by the arm, and looked in his face with a wild and menacing
+glare.
+
+"Did you tell me she was dying?" he said.  "I ask you that question: why
+do you not answer me?  Oh, by the way, you threaten me with your
+vengeance.  Know you not that I long to meet you front to front, and to
+the death?  Did I not tell you so--did I not try to move your slow
+blood--to insult you into a conflict in which I should have gloried?
+Yet then you were marble."
+
+"Because /my/ wrong I could forgive, and /hers/--there was then a hope
+that hers might not need the atonement.  Away!"
+
+Maltravers shook the hold of the Italian from his arm, and passed on.  A
+wild, sharp yell of despair rang after him, and echoed in his ear as he
+strode the long, dim, solitary stairs that led to the death-bed of
+Florence Lascelles.
+
+Maltravers entered the room adjoining that which contained the
+sufferer--the same room, still gay and cheerful, in which had been his
+first interview with Florence since their reconciliation.
+
+Here he found the physician dozing in a /fauteuil/.  Lady Florence had
+fallen asleep during the last two or three hours.  Lord Saxingham was in
+his own apartment, deeply and noisily affected; for it was not thought
+that Florence could survive the night.
+
+Maltravers sat himself quietly down.  Before him, on a table, lay
+several manuscript books, gaily and gorgeously bound; he mechanically
+opened them.  Florence's fair, noble Italian characters met his eye in
+every page.  Her rich and active mind, her love for poetry, her thirst
+for knowledge, her indulgence of deep thought, spoke from those pages
+like the ghosts of herself.  Often, underscored with the marks of her
+approbation, he chanced upon extracts from his own works, sometimes upon
+reflections by the writer herself, not inferior in truth and depth to
+his own; snatches of wild verse never completed, but of a power and
+energy beyond the delicate grace of lady-poets; brief, vigorous
+criticisms on books, above the common holiday studies of the sex;
+indignant and sarcastic aphorisms on the real world, with high and sad
+bursts of feeling upon the ideal one; all chequering and enriching the
+various volumes, told of the rare gifts with which this singular girl
+was endowed--a herbal, as it were, of withered blossoms that might have
+borne Hesperian fruits.  And sometimes in these outpourings of the full
+mind and laden heart were allusions to himself, so tender and so
+touching--the pencilled outline of his features, traced by memory in a
+thousand aspects--the reference to former interviews and
+conversations--the dates and hours marked with a woman's minute and
+treasuring care!--all these tokens of genius and of love spoke to him
+with a voice that said, "And this creature is lost to you, forever: you
+never appreciated her till the time for her departure was irrevocably
+fixed!"
+
+Maltravers uttered a deep groan; all the past rushed over him.  Her
+romantic passion for one yet unknown--her interest in his glory--her
+zeal for his life of life, his spotless and haughty name.  It was as if
+with her, Fame and Ambition were dying also, and henceforth nothing but
+common clay and sordid motives were to be left on earth.
+
+How sudden--how awfully sudden had been the blow!  True, there had been
+an absence of some months in which the change had operated.  But absence
+is a blank, a nonentity.  He had left her in apparent health, in the
+time of prosperity and pride.  He saw her again--stricken down in body
+and temper--chastened--humbled--dying.  And this being, so bright and
+lofty, how had she loved him!  Never had he been so loved, except in
+that morning dream, haunted by the vision of the lost and dim-remembered
+Alice.  Never on earth could he be so loved again. The air and aspect of
+the whole chamber grew to him painful and oppressive.  It was full of
+her--the owner!  There the harp, which so well became her muse-like form
+that it was associated with her like a part of herself!  There the
+pictures, fresh and glowing from her hand,-the grace--the harmony--the
+classic and simple taste everywhere displayed.
+
+Rousseau has left to us an immortal portrait of the lover waiting for
+the first embraces of his mistress.  But to wait with a pulse as
+feverish, a brain as dizzy, for her last look--to await the moment of
+despair, not rapture--to feel the slow and dull time as palpable a load
+upon the heart, yet to shrink from your own impatience, and wish that
+the agony of suspense might endure for ever--this, oh, this is a picture
+of intense passion--of flesh and blood reality--of the rare and solemn
+epochs of our mysterious life--which had been worthier the genius of
+that "Apostle of Affliction"!
+
+At length the door opened; the favourite attendant of Florence looked
+in.
+
+"Is Mr. Maltravers there?  Oh, sir, my lady is awake and would see you."
+
+Maltravers rose, but his feet were glued to the ground, his sinking
+heart stood still--it was a mortal terror that possessed him.  With a
+deep sigh he shook off the numbing spell, and passed to the bedside of
+Florence.
+
+She sat up, propped by pillows, and as he sank beside her, and clasped
+her wan, transparent hand, she looked at him with a smile of pitying
+love.
+
+"You have been very, very kind to me," she said, after a pause, and with
+a voice which had altered even since the last time he heard it.  "You
+have made that part of life from which human nature shrinks with dread,
+the happiest and the brightest of all my short and vain existence.  My
+own clear Ernest--Heaven reward you!"
+
+A few grateful tears dropped from her eyes, and they fell on the hand
+which she bent her lips to kiss.
+
+"It was not here--nor amidst the streets and the noisy abodes of
+anxious, worldly men--nor was it in this harsh and dreary season of the
+year, that I could have wished to look my last on earth.  Could I have
+seen the face of Nature--could I have watched once more with the summer
+sun amidst those gentle scenes we loved so well, Death would have had no
+difference from sleep.  But what matters it?  With you there are summer
+and Nature everywhere!"
+
+Maltravers raised his face, and their eyes met in silence--it was a
+long, fixed gaze, which spoke more than all words could.  Her head
+dropped on his shoulder, and there it lay, passive and motionless, for
+some moments.  A soft step glided into the room--it was the unhappy
+father's.  He came to the other side of his daughter, and sobbed
+convulsively.
+
+She then raised herself, and even in the shades of death, a faint blush
+passed over her cheek.
+
+"My good dear father, what comfort will it give you hereafter to think
+how fondly you spoiled your Florence!"
+
+Lord Saxingham could not answer: he clasped her in his arms and wept
+over her.  Then he broke away--looked on her with a shudder--
+
+"O God!" he cried, "she is dead--she is dead!"
+
+Maltravers started.  The physician kindly approached, and, taking Lord
+Saxingham's hand, led him from the room--he went mute and obedient like
+a child.
+
+But the struggle was not yet past.  Florence once more opened her eyes,
+and Maltravers uttered a cry of joy.  But along those eyes the film was
+darkening rapidly, as still through the mist and shadow they sought the
+beloved countenance which hung over her, as if to breathe life into
+waning life.  Twice her lips moved, but her voice failed her; she shook
+her head sadly.
+
+Maltravers hastily held to her mouth a cordial which lay ready on the
+table near her, but scarce had it moistened her lips, when her whole
+frame grew heavier and heavier, in his clasp.  Her head once more sank
+upon his bosom--she thrice gasped wildly for breath--and at length,
+raising her hand on high, life struggled into its expiring ray.
+
+"/There/--above!--Ernest--that name--Ernest!"
+
+Yes, that name was the last she uttered; she was evidently conscious of
+that thought, for a smile, as her voice again faltered--a smile sweet
+and serene--that smile never seen but on the faces of the dying and the
+dead--borrowed from a light that is not of this world--settled slowly on
+her brow, her lips, her whole countenance; still she breathed, but the
+breath grew fainter! at length, without murmur, sound, or struggle, it
+passed away--the head dropped from his bosom--the form fell from his
+arms-all was over!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+   *  *  *  *  "Is this the promised end?"--/Lear/.
+
+IT was two hours after that scene before Maltravers left the house.  It
+was then just on the stroke of the first hour of morning.  To him, while
+he walked through the streets, and the sharp winds howled on his path,
+it was as if a strange and wizard life had passed into and supported
+him--a sort of drowsy, dull existence.  He was like a sleepwalker,
+unconscious of all around him; yet his steps went safe and free; and the
+one thought that possessed his being--into which all intellect seemed
+shrunk--the thought, not fiery nor vehement, but calm, stern, and
+solemn--the thought of revenge--seemed, as it were, grown his soul
+itself.  He arrived at the door of Colonel Danvers, mounted the stairs,
+and as his friend advanced to meet him, said calmly, "Now, then, the
+hour has arrived."
+
+"But what would you do now?"
+
+"Come with me, and you shall learn."
+
+"Very well, my carriage is below.  Will you direct the servants?"
+
+Maltravers nodded, gave his orders to the careless footman, and the two
+friends were soon driving through the less known and courtly regions of
+the giant city.  It was then that Maltravers concisely stated to Danvers
+the fraud that had been practised by Cesarini.
+
+"You will go with me now," concluded Maltravers, "to his house.  To do
+him justice, he is no coward; he has not shrunk from giving me his
+address, nor will he shrink from the atonement I demand.  I shall wait
+below while you arrange our meeting--at daybreak for to-morrow."
+Danvers was astonished and even appalled by the discovery made to him.
+There was something so unusual and strange in the whole affair.  But
+neither his experience, nor his principles of honour, could suggest any
+alternative to the plan proposed.  For though not regarding the cause of
+quarrel in the same light as Maltravers, and putting aside all question
+as to the right of the latter to constitute himself the champion of the
+betrothed, or the avenger of the dead, it seemed clear to the soldier
+that a man whose confidential letter had been garbled by another for the
+purpose of slandering his truth and calumniating his name, had no option
+but contempt, or the sole retribution (wretched though it be) which the
+customs of the higher class permit to those who live within its pale.
+But contempt for a wrong that a sorrow so tragic had followed--was
+/that/ option in human philosophy?
+
+The carriage stopped at a door in a narrow lane in an obscure suburb.
+Yet, dark as all the houses around were, lights were seen in the upper
+windows of Cesarini's residence, passing to and fro; and scarce had the
+servant's loud knock echoed through the dim thoroughfare, ere the door
+was opened.  Danvers descended, and entered the passage--"Oh, sir, I am
+so glad you are come!" said an old woman, pale and trembling; "he do
+take on so!"
+
+"There is no mistake," asked Danvers, halting; "an Italian gentleman
+named Cesarini lodges here?"
+
+"Yes, sir, poor cretur--I sent for you to come to him--for says I to my
+boy, says I--"
+
+"Whom do you take me for?"
+
+"Why, la, sir, you be's the doctor, ben't you?"
+
+Danvers made no reply; he had a mean opinion of the courage of one who
+could act dishonourably; he thought there was some design to cheat his
+friend out of his revenge; accordingly he ascended the stairs, motioning
+the woman to precede him.
+
+He came back to the door of the carriage in a few minutes.  "Let us go
+home, Maltravers," said he, "this man is not in a state to meet you."
+
+"Ha!" cried Maltravers, frowning darkly, and all his long-smothered
+indignation rushing like fire through every vein of his body; "would he
+shrink from the atonement?"  He pushed Danvers impatiently aside, leapt
+from the carriage, and rushed up-stairs.
+
+Danvers followed.
+
+Heated, wrought-up, furious, Ernest Maltravers burst into a small and
+squalid chamber; from the closed doors of which, through many chinks,
+had gleamed the light that told him Cesarini was within.  And Cesarini's
+eyes, blazing with horrible fire, were the first object that met his
+gaze.  Maltravers stood still, as if frozen into stone.
+
+"Ha! ha!" laughed a shrill and shrieking voice, which contrasted dreadly
+with the accents of the soft Tuscan, in which the wild words were
+strung--"who comes here with garments dyed in blood?  You cannot accuse
+me--for my blow drew no blood, it went straight to the heart--it tore no
+flesh by the way; we Italians poison our victims!  Where art thou--where
+art thou, Maltravers?  I am ready. Coward, you do not come!  Oh, yes,
+yes, here you are; the pistols--I will not fight so.  I am a wild beast.
+Let us rend each other with our teeth and talons!"
+
+Huddled up like a heap of confused and jointless limbs in the furthest
+corner of the room, lay the wretch, a raving maniac;--two men keeping
+their firm gripe on him, which, ever and anon, with the mighty strength
+of madness, he shook off, to fall back senseless and exhausted; his
+strained and bloodshot eyes starting from their sockets, the slaver
+gathering round his lips, his raven hair standing on end, his delicate
+and symmetrical features distorted into a hideous and Gorgon aspect.  It
+was, indeed, an appalling and sublime spectacle, full of an awful moral,
+the meeting of the foes!  Here stood Maltravers, strong beyond the
+common strength of men, in health, power, conscious superiority,
+premeditated vengeance--wise, gifted; all his faculties ripe, developed,
+at his command;--the complete and all-armed man, prepared for defence
+and offence against every foe--a man who, once roused in a righteous
+quarrel, would not have quailed before an army; and there and thus was
+his dark and fierce purpose dashed from his soul, shivered into atoms at
+his feet.  He felt the nothingness of man and man's wrath--in the
+presence of the madman on whose head the thunderbolt of a greater curse
+than human anger ever breathes had fallen.  In his horrible affliction
+the Criminal triumphed over the Avenger!
+
+"Yes! yes!" shouted Cesarini, again; "they tell me she is dying; but he
+is by her side;--pluck him thence--he shall not touch her hand--she
+shall not bless him--she is mine--if I killed her, I have saved her from
+him--she is mine in death.  Let me in, I say,--I will come in,--I will,
+I will see her, and strangle him at her feet."  With that, by a
+tremendous effort, he tore himself from the clutch of his holders, and
+with a sudden and exultant bound sprang across the room, and stood face
+to face with Maltravers.  The proud brave than turned pale, and recoiled
+a step--"It is he! it is he!" shrieked the maniac, and he leaped like a
+tiger at the throat of his rival.  Maltravers quickly seized his arm,
+and whirled him round.  Cesarini fell heavily on the floor, mute,
+senseless, and in strong convulsions.
+
+"Mysterious Providence!" murmured Maltravers, "thou hast justly rebuked
+the mortal for dreaming he might arrogate to himself thy privilege of
+vengeance.  Forgive the sinner, O God, as I do--as thou teachest this
+stubborn heart to forgive--as she forgave who is now with thee, a
+blessed saint in heaven!"
+
+When, some minutes afterwards, the doctor, who had been sent for,
+arrived, the head of the stricken patient lay on the lap of his foe, and
+it was the hand of Maltravers that wiped the froth from the white lips,
+and the voice of Maltravers that strove to soothe, and the tears of
+Maltravers that were falling on that fiery brow.
+
+"Tend him, sir, tend him as my brother," said Maltravers, hiding his
+face as he resigned the charge.  "Let him have all that can alleviate
+and cure--remove him hence to some fitter abode--send for the best
+advice.  Restore him, and--and--"  He could say no more, but left the
+room abruptly.
+
+It was afterwards ascertained that Cesarini had remained in the streets
+after his short interview with Ernest, that at length he had knocked at
+Lord Saxingham's door just in the very hour when death had claimed its
+victim.  He heard the announcement--he sought to force his way
+up-stairs--they thrust him from the house, and nothing more of him was
+known till he arrived at his own door, an hour before Danvers and
+Maltravers came, in raging frenzy.  Perhaps by one of the dim erratic
+gleams of light which always chequer the darkness of insanity, he
+retained some faint remembrance of his compact and assignation with
+Maltravers, which had happily guided his steps back to his abode.
+
+  *  *  *  *  *
+
+It was two months after this scene, a lovely Sabbath morning, in the
+earliest May, as Lumley, Lord Vargrave, sat alone, by the window in his
+late uncle's villa, in his late uncle's easy-chair--his eyes were
+resting musingly on the green lawn on which the windows opened, or
+rather on two forms that were seated upon a rustic bench in the middle
+of the sward.  One was the widow in her weeds, the other was that fair
+and lovely child destined to be the bride of the new lord.  The hands of
+the mother and daughter were clasped each in each.  There was sadness in
+the faces of both--deeper if more resigned on that of the elder, for the
+child sought to console her parent, and grief in childhood comes with a
+butterfly's wing.
+
+Lumley gazed on them both, and on the child more earnestly.
+
+"She is very lovely," he said; "she will be very rich. After all, I am
+not to be pitied.  I am a peer, and I have enough to live upon at
+present.  I am a rising man--our party wants peers; and though I could
+not have had more than a subaltern's seat at the Treasury Board six
+months ago, when I was an active, zealous, able commoner, now that I am
+a lord, with what they call a stake in the country, I may open my mouth
+and--bless me!  I know not how many windfalls may drop in!  My uncle was
+wiser than I thought in wrestling for this peerage, which he won and I
+wear!--Then, by and by, just at the age when I want to marry and have an
+heir (and a pretty wife saves one a vast deal of trouble), L200,000 and
+a young beauty!  Come, come, I have strong cards in my hands if I play
+them tolerably.  I must take care that she falls desperately in love
+with me.  Leave me alone for that--I know the sex, and have never failed
+except in--ah, that poor Florence!  Well, it is no use regretting!  Like
+thrifty artists, we must paint out the unmarketable picture, and call
+luckier creations to fill up the same canvas!"
+
+Here the servant interrupted Lord Vargrave's meditation by bringing in
+the letters and the newspapers which had just been forwarded from his
+town house.  Lord Vargrave had spoken in the Lords on the previous
+Friday, and he wished to see what the Sunday newspapers said of his
+speech.  So he took up one of the leading papers before he opened the
+letters.  His eyes rested upon two paragraphs in close neighbourhood
+with each other: the first ran thus:
+
+
+"The celebrated Mr. Maltravers has abruptly resigned his seat for the
+------ of ------, and left town yesterday on an extended tour on the
+Continent.  Speculation is busy on the causes of the singular and
+unexpected self-exile of a gentleman so distinguished--in the very
+zenith of his career."
+
+
+"So, he has given up the game!" muttered Lord Vargrave; "he was never a
+practical man--I am glad he is out of the way.  But what's this about
+myself?"
+
+
+"We hear that important changes are to take place in the government---it
+is said that ministers are at last alive to the necessity of
+strengthening themselves with new talent.  Among other appointments
+confidently spoken of in the best-informed circles, we learn that Lord
+Vargrave is to have the place of ------.  It will be a popular
+appointment.  Lord Vargrave is not a holiday orator, a mere declamatory
+rhetorician--but a man of clear business-like views, and was highly
+thought of in the House of Commons.  He has also the art of attaching
+his friends, and his frank, manly character cannot fail to have its due
+effect with the English public.  In another column of our journal our
+readers will see a full report of his excellent maiden speech in the
+House of Lords, on Friday last: the sentiments there expressed do the
+highest honour to his lordship's patriotism and sagacity."
+
+
+"Very well, very well indeed!" said Lumley, rubbing his hands; and
+turning to his letters, his attention was drawn to one with an enormous
+seal, marked "Private and confidential."  He knew before he opened it
+that it contained the offer of the appointment alluded to in the
+newspaper.  He read, and rose exultantly; passing through the French
+windows, he joined Lady Vargrave and Evelyn on the lawn, and, as he
+smiled on the mother and caressed the child, the scene and the group
+made a pleasant picture of English domestic happiness.
+
+Here ends the First Portion of this work: it ends in the view that
+bounds us when we look on the practical world with the outward
+unspiritual eye--and see life that dissatisfies justice,--for life is so
+seen but in fragments.  The influence of fate seems so small on the man
+who, in erring, but errs as the egotist, and shapes out of ill some use
+that can profit himself.  But Fate hangs a shadow so vast on the heart
+that errs but in venturing and knows only in others the sources of
+sorrow and joy.
+
+Go alone, O Maltravers, unfriendly, remote--thy present a waste, and thy
+past life a ruin, go forth to the future!--Go, Ferrers, light
+cynic--with the crowd take thy way,--complacent, elated,--no cloud upon
+conscience, for thou seest but sunshine on fortune.--Go forth to the
+future!
+
+Human life is compared to the circle.--Is the simile just?  All lines
+that are drawn from the centre to touch the circumference, by the law of
+the circle, are equal.  But the lines that are drawn from the heart of
+the man to the verge of his destiny--do they equal each other?--Alas!
+some seem so brief, and some lengthen on as for ever.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
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