THE MONCTONS:

A NOVEL. 

BY

SUSANNA MOODIE, AUTHOR OF

"ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH, " "FLORA LINDSAY, ""MATRIMONIAL SPECULATIONS, " &c. 

 What--dost thou think I'll bend to thee? The free in soul are ever free: Nor force, nor poverty can bind The subtle will--the thinking mind. 

IN TWO VOLUMES. 

VOL. I. 

LONDON:RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 1856. 

LONDON:Printed by Schulze and Co. , 13, Poland Street. 

TO JOHN LOVELL, ESQ. , OF MONTREAL, WHO WAS ONE OF THE FIRST AND MOSTSUCCESSFUL PIONEERS IN ESTABLISHING A NATIONAL LITERATURE IN THECANADIAN COLONIES, THIS WORK, WHICH OWES ITS EXISTENCE TO HIS GENEROUSCARE, IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, BY HIS GRATEFUL AND OBLIGED FRIEND, SUSANNA MOODIE. 

DECEMBER, 1855. 

Transcriber's Note: The Table of Contents is not contained in the bookbut has been created for the convenience of the reader of this etext. 

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 I. MY GRANDFATHER AND HIS SONS. II. MY MOTHER'S FUNERAL. III. MY AUNT REBECCA. IV. THE TUTOR. V. A CHANGE IN MY PROSPECTS. VI. THE SORROWS OF DEPENDENCE. VII. GEORGE HARRISON. VIII. UNGRATIFIED CURIOSITY. IX. A PORTRAIT. X. DREAMS. XI. MY FIRST LOVE. XII. I FORFEIT MY INDEPENDENCE. XIII. A VISIT FROM THE GREAT MAN OF THE FAMILY. XIV. LOVE AND HATRED. XV. GEORGE HARRISON AND HIS HISTORY. XVI. GEORGE HARRISON CONTINUES HIS HISTORY. XVII. HARRISON FINDS A FRIEND IN NEED. XVIII. THE MEETING. 

THE MONCTONS. 

CHAPTER I. 

MY GRANDFATHER AND HIS SONS. 

There was a time--a good old time--when men of rank and fortune werenot ashamed of their poor relations; affording the protection of theirname and influence to the lower shoots of the great family tree, which, springing from the same root, expected to derive support andnourishment from the main stem. 

That time is well-nigh gone for ever. Kindred love and hospitality havedecreased with the increase of modern luxury and exclusiveness, and thesacred ties of consanguinity are now regarded with indifference; or ifrecognized, it is only with those who move in the same charmed circle, and who make a respectable appearance in the world: then, and thenonly, are their names pronounced with reverence, and their relationshipconsidered an honor. 

It is amusing to watch from a distance, the eagerness with which somepeople assert their claims to relationship with wealthy and titledfamilies, and the intrigue and manoeuvring it calls forth in thesefortunate individuals, in order to disclaim the boasted connexion. 

It was my fate for many years to eat the bitter bread of dependence, as one of those despised and insulted domestic annoyances--_A PoorRelation_. 

My grandfather, Geoffrey Moncton, whose name I bear, was the youngestson of a wealthy Yorkshire Baronet, whose hopes and affections entirelycentered in his first-born. What became of the junior scions of thefamily-tree was to him a matter of secondary consideration. Mygrandfather, however, had to be provided for in a manner becoming theson of a gentleman, and on his leaving college, Sir Robert offered topurchase him a commission in the army. 

My grandfather was a lad of peaceable habits, and had a mortalantipathy to fighting. He refused point blank to be a soldier. The Navyoffered the same cause for objection, strengthened by a naturalaversion to the water, which made him decline going to sea. 

What was to be done with the incorrigible youth? Sir Robert flew intoa passion--called him a coward--a disgrace to the name of Moncton. 

My grandfather, who was a philosopher in his way, pleaded guilty to thefirst charge. From his cradle he had carefully avoided scenes of strifeand violence, and had been a quiet, industrious boy at school, a soberplodding student at college, minding his own business, and troublinghimself very little with the affairs of others. The sight of blood madehim sick; he hated the smell of gunpowder, and would make any sacrificeof time and trouble rather than come to blows. He now listened to thelong catalogue of his demerits, which his angry progenitor poured forthagainst him, with such stoical indifference, that it nearly drew uponhim the corporeal punishment which at all times he so much dreaded. 

Sir Robert at length named the Church, as the profession best suited toa young man of his peaceable disposition, and flew into a freshparoxysm of rage, when the obstinate fellow positively refused to be aparson. 

"He had a horror, " he said, "of making a mere profession of so sacred acalling. Besides, he had an awkward impediment in his speech, and hedid not mean to stand up in a pulpit to expose his infirmity to theridicule of others. "

Honour to my grandfather. He was not deficient in mental courage, though Sir Robert, in the plenitude of his wisdom, had thought fit tobrand him as a coward. 

The bar was next proposed for his consideration, but the lad repliedfirmly, "I don't mean to be a lawyer. "

"Your reasons, sir?" cried Sir Robert in a tone which seemed to forbida liberty of choice. 

"I have neither talent nor inclination for the profession. "

"And pray, sir, what have you talent or inclination for?"

"A merchant, " returned Geoffrey calmly and decidedly, without appearingto notice his aristocratic sire's look of withering contempt. "I haveno wish to be a poor gentleman. Place me in my Uncle Drury'scounting-house, and I will work hard and become an independent man. "

Now this Uncle Drury was brother to the late Lady Moncton, who had beenmarried by the worthy Baronet for her wealth. He was one of SirRobert's horrors--one of those rich, vulgar connections which are notso easily shaken off, and whose identity is with great difficultydenied to the world. Sir Robert vowed, that if the perverse ladpersisted in his grovelling choice, though he had but two sons, hewould discard him altogether. 

Obstinacy is a family failing of the Monctons. My grandfather, wisely, or unwisely, as circumstances should afterwards determine, remainedfirm to his purpose. Sir Robert realized his threat. The father and sonparted in anger, and from that hour, the latter was looked upon as analien to the old family stock; which he was considered to havedisgraced. 

Geoffrey, however, succeeded in carrying out his great life object. Hetoiled on with indefatigable industry, and soon became rich. He hadsingular talents for acquiring wealth, and they were not suffered toremain idle. The few pounds with which he commenced his mercantilecareer, soon multiplied into thousands, and tens of thousands; andthere is no knowing what an immense fortune he might have realized, hadnot death cut short his speculations at an early period of his life. 

He had married uncle Drury's only daughter, a few years after he becamepartner in the firm, by whom he had two sons, Edward and Robert, toboth of whom he bequeathed an excellent property. 

Edward, the eldest, my father, had been educated to fill the mercantilesituation, now vacant by its proprietor's death, which was an amplefortune in itself, if conducted with prudence and regularity. 

Robert had been early placed in the office of a lawyer of eminence, andwas considered a youth of great talents and promise. Their mother hadbeen dead for some years, and of her little is known in the annals ofthe family. When speculating upon the subject, I have imagined her tohave been a plain, quiet, matter-of-fact body, who never did or saidanything worth recording. 

When a man's position in life is marked out for him by others, and heis left no voice in the matter, in nine cases out of ten, he is totallyunfitted by nature and inclination for the post he is called to fill. So it was with my father, Edward Moncton. A person less adapted to fillan important place in the mercantile world, could scarcely have beenfound. He had a genius for spending, not for making money; and was soeasy and credulous that any artful villain might dupe him out of it. Had he been heir to the title and the old family estates, he would havemade a first rate country gentleman; for he possessed a fine manlyperson, was frank and generous, and excelled in all athletic sports. 

My Uncle Robert was the very reverse of my father--stern, shrewd, andsecretive; no one could see more of his mind than he was willing toshow; and, like my grandfather, he had a great love for money, and anatural talent for acquiring it. An old servant of my grandfather's, Nicholas Banks, used jocosely to say of him: "Had Master Robert beenborn a beggar, he would have converted his ragged wrap-rascal into avelvet gown. The art of making money was born in him. "

Uncle Robert was very successful in his profession; and such is therespect that men of common minds pay to wealth for its own sake, thatmy uncle was as much courted by persons of his class, as if he hadbeen Lord Chancellor of England. He was called the _honest lawyer_:wherefore, I never could determine, except that he was the _rich_lawyer; and people could not imagine that the envied possessor of fivethousand per annum, could have any inducement to play the rogue, orcheat his clients. The dependent slave who was chained all day to thedesk, in Robert Moncton's office, knew him to be a dishonest man; buthis practice daily increased, and his reputation and fortune increasedin proportion. 

The habits and dispositions of these brothers were so different, soutterly opposed to each other, that it was difficult to reconcile themind to the fact that they were so closely related. 

My uncle had a subtle knowledge of character, which was rendered moreacute by his long acquaintance with the world; and he did not alwaysturn it to a righteous account. My father was a babe in thesematters--a cunning child might deceive him. While my uncle had a knackof saving without appearing parsimonious, my father had an unfortunatehabit of frittering his money away upon trifles. You would haveimagined that the one had discovered the secret of the philosopher'sstone; and the other had ruined himself in endeavouring to find it out. The one was economical from choice, the other extravagant from the merelove of spending. My uncle married a rich merchant's daughter, for hermoney. My father ran off with a poor curate's penniless girl, for love. My father neglected his business and became poor. In the hope ofredeeming his fortune he frequented the turf and the gambling-table;and died broken-hearted and insolvent in the prime of manhood; leavinghis widow and her orphan boy to the protection and guardianship of thebrother, who had drudged all his life to become a millionaire. 

My dear mother only survived her handsome, reckless husband six shortmonths; and, bereaved of both my natural protectors, I was doomed atthe early age of eight years to drink the bitter cup of poverty anddependence to its very dregs. 

CHAPTER II. 

MY MOTHER'S FUNERAL. 

I never saw my Uncle Robert Moncton until the morning of my mother'sfuneral; and the impression that first interview made upon my youngheart will never be forgotten. It cast the first dark shadow upon thesunny dial of my life, and for many painful years my days and hourswere numbered beneath its gloomy influence. 

It was a chill, murky November day, such a day as London or itsimmediate vicinity can alone produce. The rain fell slowly and steadilyto the ground; and trickled from the window-frames in one continuousstream. A thick mist hung upon the panes of glass like a gauze veil, intersected by innumerable channels of water, which looked like apattern of open work left in the dingy material. The shutters of ouronce populous parlour were half-closed; and admitted into the large, deserted apartment only a portion of this obscure light. The hearsedestined to convey the remains of my dear mother to their last, longresting-place, was drawn up at the door. I saw it looming through thefog, with its tall, black shadowy plumes, like some ghostly andmonstrous thing. A hitherto unknown feeling of dread stole over me. Mylife had been all sunshine up to the present moment--the sight of thatmournful funeral array swept like a dark cloud over the smiling sky, blotting out all that was bright and beautiful from my eyes and heart. I screamed in terror and despair, and hid my face in the lap of my oldnurse to shut out the frightful vision, and shed torrents of tears. 

The good woman tried to soothe me while she adjusted my black dress, asI was to form one in that doleful procession as chief mourner--I was mymother's only child. The only real mourner there. 

The door which led into the next room was partly open. I saw theundertaker's people removing the coffin in order to place it in thehearse. This was a fresh cause for anxiety. I knew that that black, mysterious-looking box contained the cold, pale, sleeping form of mymother; but I could not realize the fact, that the beautiful andbeloved being, who had so lately kissed and blessed me, was unconsciousof her removal from her home and weeping boy. 

"Mamma!--dear mamma!" I cried, struggling violently with nurse. "Let mego, nurse! those wicked men shall not take away mamma!"

Two gentlemen, attracted by my cries and struggles, entered the room. The foremost was a tall, portly man, whom the world would callhandsome. His features were good, and his complexion darkly brilliant;but there was a haughty, contemptuous expression in his large, prominent, selfish-looking eyes, which sent a chill to my heart. Glittering and glassy, they sparkled like ice--clear, sarcastic andrepelling--and oh, how cold! The glance of that eye made me silent in amoment. It fascinated like the eye of a snake. I continued to shiverand stare at him, as long as its scornful gaze remained riveted upon myface. I felt a kindred feeling springing up in my heart--a feeling ofdefiance and resistance which would fain return hatred for hatred, scorn for scorn; and never in after-life could I meet the searchinglook of that stern cold eye, without experiencing the same outwardabhorrence and inward revulsion. 

He took my hand, and turning me round, examined my countenance withcritical minuteness, neither moved by my childish indignation nor mytears. "A strong-limbed straight-made fellow, this. I did not thinkthat Edward could be the father of such an energetic-looking boy. He'slike his grandfather, and if I mistake not, will be just as obstinateand self-sustained. "

"A true Moncton, " returned his companion, a coarse-featured, vulgar-looking man, with a weak, undecided, but otherwise kindlycountenance. "You will not be able to bend that young one to yourpurpose. "

A bitter smile was the reply, and a fixed stare from those terriblybright eyes. 

"Poor child! He's very unfortunate, " continued the same speaker. "Ipity him from my very soul!" He placed his large hand kindly upon myhead, and drawing me between his knees held up my face and kissed mewith an air of parental tenderness. Touched by the unexpected caress, Iclasped my arms about his neck, and hid my face in his bosom. He flunghimself into a large chair, and lifted me upon his knee. 

"You seem to have taken a fancy to the boy, " said my uncle, in the samesarcastic tone. "Suppose you adopt him as _your_ son. I would gladlybe rid of him for ever; and would pay well for his change of name andcountry. Is it a bargain?" and he grasped his companion by theshoulder. 

"No. I will not incur the responsibility. I have done too much againstthe poor child already. Besides, a man with ten children has no need ofadopting the child of a stranger. Providence has thrown him into yourhands, Robert Moncton; and whether for good or evil, I beseech you totreat the lad kindly for his father's sake. "

"Well, well, I must, I see, make the best of a bad bargain. But, Walters, you could so easily take him with you to America. He has nofriends by his mother's side, to make any stir about his disappearance. Under your name his identity will never be recognized, and it would betaking a thorn out of my side. "

"To plant it in my own heart. The child must remain with you. "

I did not pay very particular attention to this conversation at thetime, but after events recalled it vividly to my recollection. 

The undertaker put an end to the conference by informing the gentlementhat "all was ready, and the hearse was about to move forward. " Mynurse placed me in a mourning coach, beside my uncle and his companion, in order that I might form part of that dismal procession, to thenearest cemetery. I shall never forget the impression that solemn scenemade on my mind. My first ideas of death and decay were formed whilststanding beside my mother's grave. There my heart received its firstlife-lesson; and owned its first acquaintanceship with grief--the_ideal_ vanished, and the hard, uncompromising _real_ took its place. 

After the funeral was over, I accompanied my Uncle Robert to his housein Hatton Garden. At the door we parted with Mr. Walters, and manyyears elapsed, before I saw his face again. 

CHAPTER III. 

MY AUNT REBECCA. 

Mrs. Moncton welcomed the poor orphan with kindness. She was a little, meek-looking woman; with a sweet voice, and a very pale face. She mighthave been pretty when young, but my boyish impression was that she wasvery plain. By the side of her tall, stern partner, she looked the mostdelicate, diminutive creature in the world; and her gentle, timidmanner made the contrast appear greater than it really was. 

"God bless you! my poor child, " said she, lifting me up in her arms andwiping the tears from my face. "You are young, indeed, to be left anorphan. "

I clasped her neck and sobbed aloud. The sound of her voice reminded meof my mother, and I began to comprehend dimly all I had lost. 

"Rebecca, " said my uncle, in a deep, clear voice, "you must not spoilthe boy. There is no need of this display. "

His wife seemed as much under the influence of his eye as myself. Sheinstantly released me from her arms, and quietly placed me in a chairbeside the fire, and in the presence of her husband, she took no morenotice of me than she would have done of one of the domestic animalsabout the house. Yet, her eyes rested upon me with motherly kindness, and she silently took care to administer liberally to all my wants; andwhen she did speak, it was in such a soft, soothing tone, that I feltthat she was my friend, and loved her with my whole heart. 

My uncle was a domestic tyrant--cruel, exacting, and as obstinate as amule; yet, she contrived to live with him on friendly terms; the onlycreature in the world, I am fully persuaded, who did not hate him. Married, as she had been, for money, and possessing few personaladvantages, it was wonderful the influence she had over him in herquiet way. She never resisted his authority, however harshly enforced;and often stood between him and his victims, diverting his resentmentwithout appearing to oppose his will. If there existed in his frigidbreast one sentiment of kindness for any human creature, I think it wasfor her. 

With women he was no favourite. He had no respect for the sex, and Iquestion whether he was ever in love in his life. If he had ever owneda tender passion, it must have been in very early youth, before hisheart got hardened and iced in the world. My aunt seemed necessary tohis comfort, his convenience, his vanity: however he might be dislikedby others he was certain of her fidelity and attachment. His respectfor her was the one bright spot in his character, and even that wastarnished by a refined system of selfishness. 

The only comfort I enjoyed during my cheerless childhood, I derivedfrom her silent attention to my wants and wishes, which she gratifiedas far as she dared, without incurring the jealous displeasure of herexacting husband. 

In private, Mrs. Moncton always treated me as her own child. Sheunlocked the fountains of natural affection, which my uncle's harshnesshad sealed, and love gushed forth. I dearly loved her, and longed tocall her mother; but she forbade all outward demonstration of myattachment, which she assured me would not only be very offensive toMr. Moncton, but would draw down his displeasure upon us both. 

The hours I spent with my good aunt were few: I only saw her at meals, and on the Sabbath-day, when I accompanied her to church, and spent thewhole day with her and her only son--a cross, peevish boy, some fouryears older than myself--but of him anon. During the winter, she alwayssent for me into the parlour, during the dark hour between dinner andtea, when I recited to her the lessons I had learned with my cousin'stutor during the day. My uncle was always absent at that hour, andthese were precious moments to the young heart, which knew nocompanionship, and pined for affection and sympathy. 

My worthy aunt! it is with heartfelt gratitude I pay this slighttribute to your memory. But for your gentle love and kind teachings, Imight have become as cold and tyrannical as your harsh lord--as selfishand unfeeling as your unnatural son. 

How I delighted to sit by your side, in the warm, red light of acheerful fire, in that large, dusky room, and hold your small whitehand in mine, while I recounted to you all the beautiful and shadowyreminiscences of my happy infancy--to watch the pensive smile stealover your lips, as I described the garden in which I played, the dearlittle white bed in which I slept, and where my own dear mother nightlyknelt beside me, to hear me repeat my simple prayers and hymns, beforeshe kissed and blessed me, and left me to the protecting care of thegreat Father in Heaven. 

"Ah!" I exclaimed one evening, while sitting at my aunt's feet, "whydid she die and leave me for ever? I am nobody's child. Other littleboys have kind mothers to love them, but I am alone in the world. Aunt, let me be your boy--your own dear little boy, and I will love youalmost as well as I did my poor mamma!"

The good woman caught me to her heart, tears were streaming down herkind, benevolent face, she kissed me passionately, as she sobbed out, "Geoffrey, you will never know how much I love you--more, my poor boy, than I dare own. But rest assured that you shall never want a mother'slove while I live. "

Well and conscientiously did she perform her promise. She has long beendead, but time will never efface from my mind a tender recollection ofher kindness. Since I arrived at man's estate, I have knelt beside hergrave, and moistened the turf which enfolds that warm, noble heart withgrateful tears. 

She had, as I before stated, one son--the first-born and only survivorof a large family. This boy was a great source of anxiety to hismother; a sullen, unmanageable, ill-tempered child. Cruel and cowardly, he united with the cold, selfish disposition of the father, a jealous, proud and vindictive spirit peculiarly his own. It was impossible tokeep on friendly terms with Theophilus Moncton: he was always takingaffronts, and ever on the alert to dispute and contradict every word oropinion advanced by another. He would take offence at every look andgesture, which he fancied derogatory to his dignity; and if you refusedto speak to him, he considered that you did not pay him properrespect--that you slighted and insulted him. 

He was afraid of his father, for whom he entertained little esteem oraffection; and to his gentle mother he was always surly anddisobedient; ridiculing her maternal admonitions, and thwarting andopposing her commands, because he knew that his opposition pained andannoyed her. 

_Me_--he hated; and not only told me so to my face, both in publicand private, but encouraged the servants to treat me with insolence andneglect. This class of individuals are seldom actuated by high andgenerous motives; and anxious to court the favour of their wealthymaster's heir, they soon found that the best way to worm themselvesinto his good graces, was to treat me with disrespect. The taunts andblows of my tyrannical cousin, though hard to bear, never wounded me sokeenly as the sneers and whispered remarks of these worldly, low-breddomestics. Their conduct clenched the iron of dependence into my verysoul. 

It was vain for my aunt to remonstrate with her son on his ungenerousconduct: her authority with him was a mere cipher, he had his fatherupon his side, and for my aunt's sake, I forebore to complain. 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE TUTOR. 

My uncle did not send us to school, but engaged a young man of humblebirth, but good classical attainments, to act in the capacity of tutorto his son, and as an act of especial favour, which fact was dulyimpressed upon me from day to day, I was allowed the benefit of hisinstructions. 

Mr. Jones, though a good practical teacher, was a weak, mean creature, possessing the very soul of a sneak. He soon discovered that the bestway to please his elder pupil was to neglect and treat me ill. He hadbeen engaged on a very moderate salary to teach _one_ lad, and he wasgreatly annoyed when Mr. Moncton introduced me into his presence, coldly remarking, "that I was an orphan son of his brother--a ladthrown upon his charity, and it would add very little to Mr. Jones'slabours to associate me with Theophilus in his studies. "

Mr. Jones was poor and friendless, and had to make his own way in theworld. He dared not resent the imposition, for fear of losing hissituation, and while outwardly he cheerfully acquiesced in Mr. Moncton's proposition, he conceived a violent prejudice against me, asbeing the cause of it. 

He was spiteful, irritable, narrow-minded man; and I soon found thatany attempt to win his regard, or conciliate him, was futile: he hadmade up his mind to dislike me, and he did so with a hearty good willwhich no attention or assiduity on my part could overcome. 

Theophilus, who, like his father, professed a great insight intocharacter, read that of his instructor at a glance; and despised himaccordingly. But Theophilus was vain and fond of admiration, and couldnot exist without satellites to move around him, and render him theirhomage as to a superior luminary. He was a magnificent paymaster to hissneaks; and bound them to him with the strongest of all ties--hispurse-strings. 

Mr. Moncton, allowed this lad a handsome sum monthly for his ownprivate expenses; and fond as he was of money, he never inquired of thehaughty arrogant boy, the manner in which he disposed of hispocket-money. He might save or spend it as inclination prompted--heconsidered it a necessary outlay to give his son weight and influencewith others; and never troubled himself about it again. 

Theophilus soon won over Mr. Jones to his interest, by a few judiciouspresents; while he fostered his dislike to me, by informing him ofcircumstances regarding my birth and family, with which I never becameacquainted until some years afterwards. At this distance of time, I canalmost forgive Mr. Jones, for the indifference and contempt he felt forhis junior pupil. 

Influenced by these feelings, he taught me as little as he could; but Ihad a thirst for knowledge, and he could not hinder me from listeningand profiting by his instructions to my cousin. Fortunately for me, Theophilus did not possess either a brilliant or inquiring mind. Learning was very distasteful to him; and Mr. Jones had to repeat hisinstructions so often, that it enabled me to learn them by heart. Mr. Jones flattered and coaxed his indolent pupil; but could not induce himto take any interest in his studies, so that I soon shot far ahead ofhim, greatly to the annoyance of both master and pupil; the formerdoing his best to throw every impediment in my way. 

I resented the injustice of this conduct with much warmth, and toldhim, "that I would learn in spite of him; I had mastered the firstrudiments of Latin and Mathematics, and I could now teach myself all Iwanted to know. "

This boast was rather premature. I found the task of self-instructionless easy than I anticipated. I was in Mr. Jones's power--and he meanlywithheld from me the books necessary to my further advancement. I nowfound myself at a stand-still. I threatened Mr. Jones that I wouldcomplain to my uncle of his unjustifiable conduct. The idea seemedgreatly to amuse him and my cousin--they laughed in my face, and daredme to make the experiment. 

I flew to my aunt. 

She told me to be patient and conceal my resentment; and she wouldsupply the books and stationery I required, from her own purse. 

I did not like this. I was a blunt straight-forward boy; and I thoughtthat my aunt was afraid to back me in what I knew to be right. I toldher so. 

"True, Geoffrey. But in this house it is useless to oppose force toforce. Your only safe course is non-resistance. "

"That plan I never can adopt. It is truckling to evil, aunt. Noultimate good can spring from it. "

"But great trouble and pain may be avoided, Geoffrey. "

"Aunt, I will not submit to Mr. Jones's mean tyranny; I feel myselfaggrieved; I must speak out and have it off my mind. I will go thisinstant to Mr. Moncton and submit the case to him. "

"Incur his displeasure--no trifle at any time, Geoffrey--and haveTheophilus and Mr. Jones laughing at you. They can tell your uncle whatstory they please: and which is he most likely to believe, yourstatement or theirs?"

"He is a clever man. Let them say what they like, it is not so easy todeceive him; he will judge for himself. He would know that I was in theright, even if he did not choose to say so; and that would be somesatisfaction, although he might take their part. "

My aunt was surprised at my boldness; she looked me long and earnestlyin the face. 

"Geoffrey, your argument is the best. Honesty is the right policy, after all. I wish I had moral courage to act up to it at all times. But, my dear boy, when you are the slave of a violent and deceitfulman, your only chance for a quiet life is to fight him with his ownweapons. "

"Wrong again, aunt, " I cried vehemently. "That would make me as had ashim. No, no, that plan would not do for me. I should betray myselfevery minute, and become contemptible in his eyes and my own. Itstrikes me, although I am but a boy of twelve, and know little of theworld, that the only real chance you have with such men is, to showthem that you are not afraid of them. They are all cowards, aunt; theywill yield to courage which they feel to be superior to their own. Somuch I have learnt from the experience of the last four years. "

Aunt made no reply; she smiled sadly and kindly upon me, and her tacitapproval sent me directly to my uncle. He was in his private office. Iknocked gently at the door. 

"Come in. "

I did so; and there I stood, not a little confused and perplexed beforehim, with flushed cheeks and a fast-throbbing heart. It was the firstcomplaint I had ever made to him in my life--the first time I had everdared to enter his _sanctum sanctorum_; and I remained tongue-tiedupon the threshold, without knowing how to begin. I thought he wouldhave looked me down. I felt the blood receding from my face beneath hiscold gaze, as he said--

"Geoffrey, what do you want here?"

"I came, sir, " I at last faltered out, "to make a complaint against Mr. Jones. "

"I never listen to complaints brought by a pupil against his teacher, "he cried, in a voice which made me recoil over the door-step. "Be gone, sir! If you come into my presence again on such an errand, I will spurnyou from the room. "

This speech, meant to intimidate me, restored my courage. I felt thehot blood rush to my face in a fiery flood. 

"Hear me, sir. Did not you place me under his care in order that Imight learn?"

"And you refuse to do so?"

"No, sir: the reverse is the case: he refuses to teach me, and deprivesme of my books, so that I cannot teach myself. "

"A very _probable_ tale, " sneered Mr. Moncton; then rising from thetable at which he was seated, he cried out hastily, "Is Mr. Jones inthe study?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Then, my new client, come along with me. I will soon learn the truthof your case. "

He clutched me by the arm, which he grasped so tightly that I couldscarcely resist a cry of pain, and hurried me out. In the study wefound Theophilus and Mr. Jones: the one lounging on two chairs, theother smoking a cigar and reading a novel. Mr. Moncton stood for amoment in the door-way, regarding the pair with his peculiar glance. 

"Gentlemen, you seem _pleasantly_ and _profitably_ employed!"

"Our morning tasks are concluded, " said Theophilus, returning the stareof scrutiny with a steady lie. "'Too much work would make Jack a dullboy. '"

His father smiled grimly. How well he understood the character of hisson. 

"Here is a lad, Mr. Jones, who complains that you not only refuse toteach him, but deprive him of his books. "

"He tells the truth, sir, " returned that worthy, casting upon me aspiteful, sidelong glance, which seemed to say more eloquently thanwords, "You shall see, master Geoffrey, what you'll get by tale-bearing. I'll match you yet. " "I have withheld his books, and refused myinstructions for the past week, as a punishment for his insolent anddisrespectful conduct to your son and me; to say nothing of hisimpertinent speeches regarding _you_, sir, who are his guardian andbenefactor. "

"Do you hear that--sir!" said my uncle, giving me a violent blow on mycheek, and flinging me from him. "When next you come to me with suchtales, you shall not leave your bed for a week. "

I sprang from the floor, where his blow had sent me; and stood erectbefore him. It was a pigmy confronting a giant; but my blood wasboiling. I had lost all control over myself. "It's a lie!" I cried, shaking my fist at Mr. Jones. "A monstrous falsehood! He knows it is. Theophilus knows it is. I have been falsely accused and unjustlypunished; I will remember that blow to my dying day. I will neverforget nor forgive it. "

"And who cares, my hero, for your impotent rage?" My uncle seized me bymy thick curling hair, and turned round my face, hot with passion andstreaming with tears of rage, to the gaze of my sneering enemies. "Iwill make you know, that you are in my house and in my power--and you_shall_ submit to my authority, and the authority of those I choose toplace over you. "

I struggled desperately in his herculean grasp in order to free myself. He laughed at my impotent rage and then threw me on the floor--and thistime, I was quiet enough. 

When I recovered my senses, I found myself lying upon the bed in thegarret, allotted to my use. My aunt was sitting beside me, bathing mytemples with vinegar and water. "Oh, aunt, " I sighed, closing my eyes, "I wish I were dead!"

"Hush! Geoffrey. You brought this on yourself. I told you how it wouldbe. "

"It was so unjust, " I replied with bitterness. 

"And you were so rash. You will be wiser another time. "

"When I am as wicked as my persecutors. "

"No need of quoting others, my son, while you suffer such violentpassions to master you. Listen to me, my child. I have known your unclefor years--have seen him in his darkest and stormiest moods; andcontrived to live peaceably with him. Nay, he respects me more than hedoes any one else in the world. But I never _opposed his will_. He isnot a man to be trifled with--tears and complaints are useless. Youcannot touch his heart. He _will_ be obeyed. Left to himself, he maybecome your friend, and even treat you with a certain degree ofkindness and consideration. But if you anger him, he will neverforgive, and can be a dreadful enemy. If you love me, Geoffrey, followmy advice and submit to his authority with a good grace. "

"I will try not to hate him for your dear sake. I can promise no more!"

I kissed her hand and fell back exhausted on my pillow. My head acheddreadfully from the ill-treatment I had received; and wounded pridemade my heart very sore. It was only on her account that I couldcontrol the deadly and revengeful feelings I cherished against him. Theophilus and Mr. Jones, I considered beneath contempt. 

CHAPTER V. 

A CHANGE IN MY PROSPECTS. 

The next day, I was surprised at receiving a message from Mr. Monctondesiring me to attend him in his private office. I went to him in fearand trembling. I was ill, nervous and dispirited, and cared very littleas to what in future might become of me. 

I found him all smiles and affability. "Geoffrey, " said he, holding outhis hand, as I entered, "I trust you have received a useful lesson. Youwill be wise to lay it to heart. Mr. Jones tells me that you write agood bold hand. Give me a specimen of it. Sit down at the table, anddirect that letter to Messieurs Hanbury and Company, Liverpool. "

I did as I was commanded, but my hand trembled with excitement: I foundsome difficulty in steadying the pen. He took the letter and looked atit carefully, muttering as he did so--

"How like my father's hand. Ay, and how like in obstinacy of purpose;more like him in every respect than his own sons. " Then turning to me, who was lost in wonder at this sudden change in his manner towards me, he said, "This is well; you write a fair, legible hand for a boy. Iwant a lad in my office to copy writs and other law papers. I think youwill just do for that purpose. If you are diligent and industrious, after two years trial, I will article you to myself. How old are you?"

"Thirteen, next August. "

"It is young; but you are tall and manly for your age. You andTheophilus are never likely to agree; it is best for you to be apart. You have no fortune of your own. I will give you a profession, and makean independent man of you, if you will try for the future to be adocile and obedient boy. "

I promised to do my best. He then bade me follow him, and leading theway through a narrow arched passage, he introduced me into the publicoffice, where the large business in which he was engaged was carriedon. Though I had been four years in the house, I had never seen theinside of this office before. It was a spacious, dark, dirty, apartment, lighted by high, narrow windows of ground glass; so that notime could be wasted by the junior clerks in looking out into thestreet. Several pale, melancholy men were seated at desks, hard atwork. You heard nothing but the rapid scratching of their pens againstthe parchment and paper on which they were employed. When Mr. Monctonentered the office, a short, stout, middle-aged man swung himself roundon his high stool and fronted us; but the moment he recognized hissuperior, he rose respectfully to receive him. 

Mr. Moncton took him apart, and they entered into a deep and earnestconversation: of which, I am certain, from the significant glanceswhich, from time to time, they directed towards me, I formed theprincipal topic. 

At length the conference was over, and my uncle left the office withoutgiving me a parting word or glance. When he was fairly out of hearing, all the clerks gathered round me. 

"Who is he?"

"Mr. Moncton's nephew, " was the short man's reply to the eagerquestioners. 

"Is he sent here to be a spy?"

"To learn the profession. "

"_That babe!_ Is the man mad. It will kill the child to chain _him_ tothe desk all day. "

"Poor fellow; he is the orphan son of his brother, " said another. "Ihave seen him at church with Mrs. Moncton. "

"Well, Robert Moncton is a hard man, " said a third. 

"Hush! gentlemen, " interposed Mr. Bassett, the senior clerk. "It is notright to make such remarks in the lad's hearing. Mr. Moncton doubtlessdoes for the best. Come, my little fellow, you and I must be goodfriends. Your uncle has placed you under my charge, to initiate youinto all the mysteries of the law. I have no doubt we shall get onfamously together. But you must be diligent and work hard. Your unclehates idlers; he is a strict master, but one of the ablest lawyers inLondon. Let me tell you, that to be articled to him is a fortune initself. "

A far-off, indistinct hope of freedom through this channel, presenteditself to my bewildered mind. I thanked Mr. Bassett warmly for hisproffered aid, and told him that I would do my best to deserve his goodopinion. 

From that day, I became an office drudge, condemned to copy the sameunintelligible, uninteresting law forms, from early morning until lateat night. Mr. Bassett, a quiet, methodical, business man, was kind inhis own peculiar way. He had a large family, and perhaps felt apaternal sympathy in my early introduction to the labours and cares oflife. He often commended my diligence, and mentioned me in veryhandsome terms to Mr. Moncton; but from that gentleman I never receiveda word of praise--weeks and months often passed without his speaking tome. I was even debarred from spending with my dear aunt that blessedtwilight-hour, which had proved the chief solace of my weary life. 

Constant confinement to that close office preyed upon my health andspirits. I became fretful and irritable, the colour left my cheeks, andmy eyes looked dull and heavy. The clerks, generally kind to me, allpitied me, though they dared not openly show their regard. They broughtme presents of fruit and sweet-meats, and one who lived in the suburbsused to delight my heart, every now and then, with a rich bouquet offlowers. Their beauty and perfume brought back a glimpse of the oldtimes--dim visions of lawns and gardens, of singing-birds andhumming-bees; of a fair smiling creature who led me by the hand throughthose bowers of enchantment, and called me her Geoffrey--her darlingboy. 

When such thoughts came over me, my hand trembled, and I could not seethe parchment I was copying through my tears; but for all that, thesight of the flowers was always inexpressibly dear, and I prized thembeyond every other gift. 

I had been about eighteen months in the office, when my good AuntRebecca died--an event sudden and unexpected by all. I was allowed tosee her in her last moments; to sob out my full heart by her death-bed. Her last words were an earnest request to her husband to be kind topoor Geoffrey, for her sake: she died--and I felt myself alone andfriendless in the world. 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE SORROWS OF DEPENDENCE. 

My heart sickens over this dreary portion of my life. I have heardchildhood called the happiest season of life. To me it had few joys. Itwas a gloomy period of mental suffering and bodily fatigue; ofunnatural restraint and painful probation. 

The cold, authoritative manner of my uncle, at all times irksome andrepelling, after the death of his good wife became almostinsupportable; while the insolence and presumption of his artful son, goaded a free and irascible spirit like mine almost to madness. Themoral force of his mother's character, though unappreciated by him, hadbeen some restraint upon his unamiable, tyrannical temper. Thatrestraint was now removed, and Theophilus considered that my dependentsituation gave him a lawful right to my services, and had I been aworkhouse apprentice in his father's house, he could not have given hiscommands with an air of more pointed insolence. My obstinate resistanceto his authority, and my desperate struggles to emancipate myself fromhis control, produced a constant war of words between us; and if Iappealed to my uncle, I was sure to get the worst of it. He did notexactly encourage his son in this ungenerous line of conduct, but hisgreat maxim was to _divide and rule_; to exact from all who weredependent upon him, the most uncompromising obedience to his arbitrarywill; and he laughed at my remonstrances, and turned my indignationinto ridicule. 

I was daily reminded, particularly before strangers, of the domesticcalamities which had made me dependent upon his cold, extorted charity;while I was reproached with my want of gratitude to a cruel master. 

Passion and wounded pride drew from me burning tears. I felt that I wasgrowing fierce and hard like my persecutors, and my conscience, yettender, deplored the lamentable change. My heart, crushed beneath thesense of injustice and unmerited neglect, was closed against the bestfeelings of humanity, and I regarded my fellow men with aversion andmistrust. 

These bitter and desponding feelings deprived my nights of rest--mydays, of hope. When the morning came and I took my stand at theaccursed desk, I wished the day gone; and when night released me fromthe abhorrent task, and I sought my humble garret, I sat for hours atthe open window, brooding over my wrongs. 

The moonbeams glittered in the tears that anguish wrung from myupturned eyes. The stars seemed to look down upon me with compassionateearnestness. Sometimes my young spirit, carried away by the intenselove I felt for those beautiful eyes of heaven, forgot for awhile thesorrows and cares of life and soared far, far away to seek for sympathyand affection in those unknown regions of light and purity. 

I had few opportunities of religious instruction in this truly Godlesshousehold. My uncle never attended church when he could avoid theobligation, and then, only to keep up appearances--a religion of theworld; in which the heart had no part. There was always a Bible in theoffice, but it was never used but in the way of business to administeroaths. Whenever I had a moment's leisure I had turned over the pageswith eager and mysterious curiosity, but the knowledge that should havebrought peace and comfort, and reconciled me to my dreary lot, notbeing sought for in the right spirit, added to my present despondency, the dread of future punishment. 

Oh, that awful fear of Hell. How it darkened with its unholy shadow, all that was bright and beautiful in the lower world. I had yet tolearn, that perfect love casteth out fear, that the great Fatherpunishes but to reform, and is ever more willing to save than tocondemn. I dared not seek Him, lest I should hear the terribledenunciation thundered against the wicked: "Depart from me, ye cursed!"

A firm trust in His protecting care would have been a balm for everywound which festered and rankled at my heart's core. Had theChristian's hope been mine, I should no longer have pined under thatdreary sense of utter loneliness, which for many years paralyzed allmental exertions, or nurtured in my breast the stern unforgiving temperwhich made me regard my persecutors with feelings of determined hate. 

Residing in the centre of the busy metropolis, and at an age when theheart sighs for social communion with its fellows, and imagines, withthe fond sincerity of inexperienced youth, a friend in every agreeablecompanion, I was immured among old parchments and dusty records, andseldom permitted to mingle with the guests who frequented my uncle'shouse, unless my presence was required to sign some official document. 

Few persons suspected that the shabbily-dressed silent youth who obeyedMr. Moncton's imperious mandates was his nephew--the only son of anelder brother; consequently I was treated as nobody by his malevisitors, and never noticed at all by the ladies. 

This was mortifying enough to a tall lad of eighteen, who alreadyfancied himself a man: who, though meanly dressed, and sufficientlyawkward, had enough of vanity in his composition to imagine that hisperson would create an interest in his behalf and atone for all otherdeficiencies, at least in the eyes of the gentler sex--those angels, who seen at a distance, were daily becoming objects of admiration andworship. 

Alas! Poor Geoffrey. Thou didst not know in that thy young day thethings pertaining to thy peace. Thou didst not suspect in thy innocencehow the black brand of poverty can deform the finest face, and dim thebrightest intellect in the eyes of the world. 

Among all my petty trials there were none which I felt more keenly thanhaving to wear the cast-off clothes of my cousin. He was some yearsolder, but his frame was slighter and shorter than mine, and hisgarments did not fit me in any way. The coat sleeves were short andtight, and the trowsers came half-way up my legs. The figure I cut inthese unsuitable garments was so ludicrous that it was a standing jokeamong the clerks in the office. 

"When you step into your cousin's shoes, Geoffrey, we hope they willsuit you better than his clothes. "

I could have been happy in the coarsest fustian or corderoy garmentwhich I knew was my own. I believe Robert Moncton felt a maliciouspleasure in humbling me in the eyes of his people. 

My uncle had fulfilled his promise, and I had been articled to him whenI completed my fourteenth year; and I now eagerly looked forward to mymajority, when I should be free to quit his employ, and seek a livingin the world. 

My time had been so completely engaged in copying law papers, that Ihad not been able to pay much attention to the higher branches of theprofession; and when night came, and I was at length released from thedesk, I was so over-powered by fatigue that I felt no inclination tocurtail the blessed hours of sleep by reading dull law books. Yet, uponthis all-important knowledge, which I was neglecting, rested my chanceof independence. 

My cousin Theophilus was pursuing his studies at Oxford, and rarelyvisited home, but spent his vacations with some wealthy relatives inYorkshire. This was a happy time for me; for of all my many trials hispresence was the greatest. Even Mr. Moncton was more civil to me in theabsence of his hopeful heir. 

Thus time glided on until I was twenty years of age, and full six feetin height, and I could no longer wear the cast-off suits of my cousin. Mr. Moncton, in common decency, was at length obliged to order myclothes of his tailor; but he took good care that they should be of thecoarsest description, and of the most unfashionable cut. The first suitwhich was made expressly for me, ridiculous as it must appear to myreaders, gave me infinite satisfaction. I felt proud and happy of theacquisition. 

The afternoon of that memorable day, my uncle sent for me into thedrawing-room to witness the transfer of some law papers. His clientswere two ladies, young and agreeable. While I was writing from Mr. Moncton's dictation, I perceived, with no small degree of trepidation, that the younger was regarding me with earnest attention; and in spiteof myself my cheeks flushed and my hand trembled. After my part of thebusiness was concluded Mr. Moncton told me to withdraw. As I left theroom, I heard Miss Mary Beaumont say, in a low voice to her sister--myuncle having stepped into the adjoining apartment:

"What a handsome young man! Who is he?"

"Oh, the clerk, of course. "

"He looks a gentleman. "

"A person of no consequence, by his shabby dress and awkward manners. "

I closed the door, and walked hastily away. How I despised the newsuit, of which a few minutes before I had felt so proud. The remarks ofthe younger lady tingled in my ears for weeks. She had considered meworth looking at, in spite of my unfashionable garments; and I blessedher for the amiable condescension, and thought her in return asbeautiful as an angel. I never saw her again--but I caught myselfscribbling her name on my desk, and I covered many sheets of wastepaper with indifferent rhymes in her praise. 

This confession may call up a smile on the lip of the reader, and I amcontent that he should accuse me of vanity. But these were the firstwords of commendation which had ever reached my ears from the lips ofwoman, and though I have since laughed heartily at the deep impressionthey made on my mind, they produced a beneficial effect at the time, and helped to reconcile me to my lot. 

It was about this period, that Mr. Bassett left the office, and wentinto the profession on his own account. The want of means, and animprudent marriage in early life, had hindered him from entering itsooner. For twenty years he had worked as a clerk, when he was fullyqualified to have been the head of the firm. The death of an uncle wholeft him a small property unchained him from the oar, and as he said, "made a man of him at last. "

Poor little man. I shall never forget his joy when he got thatimportant letter. He sprang from his desk, upsetting the high stool inhis haste, and shook hands with us all round, laughing and cryingalternately. 

He was a great favourite in the office, and we all rejoiced in his goodfortune, though I felt sincerely grieved at parting with him. He hadbeen a kind friend to me when I had no friends; and I had spent somequiet, happy evenings with him at his humble lodgings, in the companyof a very pretty and amiable wife. My occasional visit to him was theonly indulgence I had ever been allowed, and these visits were notpermitted to be of too frequent recurrence. 

He saw how much I was affected at bidding him good-by. 

"Geoffrey, " said he, taking me by the hand and drawing me aside: "oneword with you before we part. I know your attachment for me is sincere. Believe me, the feeling is reciprocated in its fullest extent. Youruncle is not your friend. Few men act wickedly without a motive. He hashis own reasons for treating you as he does. I cannot enter intoparticulars here. Nor would I, even if time and opportunity warranted, for it would do no good. Keep your eyes open, your head clear--yourtemper cool, and your tongue silent, and you will see and learn muchwithout the interference of a second person. I am going to open anoffice in Nottingham, my native town, and if ever you want a friend inthe hour of need, come to Josiah Bassett in the full confidence ofaffection, and I will help you. "

This speech roused all my curiosity. I pressed him eagerly to tell meall he knew respecting me and my uncle, but he refused to satisfy myearnest inquiries. 

The departure of Mr. Bassett, which I regarded as a calamity, provedone of the most fortunate events in my life. 

His place was supplied by a gentleman of the name of Harrison, who wasstrongly recommended to Mr. Moncton by his predecessor as an excellentwriter, a man well versed in the law, sober and industrious, and inwhose integrity he might place the utmost reliance. He had no wish toenter into the profession, but only sought to undertake the managementof the office as head clerk. 

Mr. Moncton was a man who never associated himself with a partner, andregarded despotic rule as the only one that deserved the name. 

When Mr. Harrison was introduced _in propria personā_ he did not seemto realize his employer's expectations--who, from Mr. Bassett'sdescription, had evidently looked for an older and more methodicalperson, and was disappointed in the young and interesting individualwho presented himself. But as he required only a moderate salary forhis services, he was engaged on trial for the next three months. 

CHAPTER VII. 

GEORGE HARRISON. 

George Harrison was not distinguished by any remarkable talents; orendowed with that aspiring genius which forces its way through everyobstacle, and places the possessor above the ordinary mass with whom heis daily forced to associate. Yet, his was no common character; noevery-day acquaintance, with whom we may spend a pleasant hour, andcare not if we ever meet again in our journey through life. 

The moment he entered the office my heart was drawn towards him by anirresistible, mysterious impulse, so that looking upon him I becameattached to him, and felt confident that the friend whom I had ardentlywished to obtain for so many hopeless years, was now before me. 

This impression was strengthened by the simple, unaffected, frankmanner in which he met the advances of the other clerks. There was acharm in his smile, in the rich tones of his deep, mellow voice, whichmade me anxious to catch the one, and hear the other again, though bothwere marked by quiet, subdued sadness. 

His face, strictly speaking, could not be called handsome; and hisgeneral appearance was more remarkable for a refined and gentlemanlydemeanour, than for anything particularly striking in form or feature. A good head, fine intelligent hazel eyes, and a profusion of curlingdark brown hair, redeemed his countenance from mediocrity; but itscareworn, anxious expression, showed too clearly, that some greatlife-sorrow, had blighted the early promise of youth and hope. 

It was some days before I had an opportunity of becoming betteracquainted with him. We were preparing for the spring assizes, andthere was work enough in the office to have employed twice the numberof hands. Nothing was heard but the scratching of pens upon paper, fromearly day until midnight. 

At last the hurry was over, and we had more leisure to look about us. Mr. Moncton was attending a circuit in the country, and his watchfuleye was no longer upon us. The clerks were absent at dinner; Mr. Harrison and I were alone in the office, which he never left till six, when he returned to his lodgings in Charlotte Street to dine; andunless there happened to be a great stress of business which requiredhis presence, we saw him no more that night. 

After regarding me for some minutes with an earnest scrutiny which, impulsive creature that I was, almost offended me, he said--

"Am I mistaken, or is your name _really_ Moncton?"

"_Really_ and truly, Geoffrey Moncton, at your service. What made youdoubt the fact?"

"I had always heard that Robert Moncton had but one son. "

"Surely there is enough of the breed, without your wishing to affiliateme upon him. I flatter myself that we do not in the least resemble eachother. And as to the name, I have so little respect for it, for hissake, that I wish some one would leave me a fortune to change it; for, between ourselves, I have small reason to love it. He is my uncle--myfather's younger brother--and I find the relationship near enough. "

This explanation led to a brief sketch of my painful, though uneventfulhistory, to which Mr. Harrison listened with an air of such intenseinterest that, though it flattered my vanity, not a little surprisedme. When I concluded, he grasped my hand firmly, muttering to himself--

"It is like him--just like him. The infernal scoundrel!"

"What do you know about him?" said I, astonished at the excited stateinto which my revelations had thrown him. 

"Only _too_ much, " he responded, with a heavy sigh; and sinking back inhis chair, pressed his hands to his head, like one who wished to shutout painful recollections, while I continued to grasp his arm and stareat him in blank amazement. At length, rousing himself, he said with afaint smile, --

"Don't make big eyes at me, Geoffrey. I cannot tell you all you wish toknow. At some other time, and in some other place, I will repay theconfidence you have reposed in me, and satisfy your queries; but nothere--not in the lion's den. "

"For heaven's sake! don't keep silent now, " I cried. "You have rousedmy curiosity to such a pitch, that I shall go mad if you hold yourtongue. You _must_ speak out. "

"I _must_ not, if, by so doing, I ruin your prospects and my own. Besatisfied, Geoffrey, that I am your friend; that henceforth I willregard you as a brother, and do all in my power to lighten and shortenyour present bondage. "

The generous assurance he gave me of a warm and affectionate sympathyin my destiny, nearly atoned for twenty years of sorrow anddegradation. The intense desire I felt to deserve his esteem, made meanxious to cultivate my mind, which I had suffered to lie waste. Harrison kindly offered his aid, and supplied me with books. I nowdevoted myself with zeal to the task. For the first time I had a motivefor exertion; I no longer vegetated; I had a friend, and my real lifecommenced from that day. I set apart two hours each night for readingand study, and soon felt a keen relish for the employment. 

"In these lie your best hope of independence, Geoffrey, " said my kindfriend, laying his hand upon a pile of books, which, for lack of atable, he placed upon the truck-bed in my mean garret. Then seatinghimself beside me on the shabby couch, he proceeded to examine, by thelight of a miserable tallow-candle, a translation I had been makingfrom the Orations of Cicero. 

"With your talents, Geoffrey, you need not fear the tyranny of any man. It will be your own fault if you do not rise in the profession you havechosen. "

"The choice was none of mine. "

"Then be grateful to your uncle for once, in having chosen it for you. "

"Do not expect impossibilities!" and I smiled bitterly. 

"Not exactly. Yet, Geoffrey, many things which appear at first sightimpossible, only require a series of persevering efforts to become botheasy and practicable. You might render your unpleasant position withyour uncle more tolerable, by yielding to his authority with a bettergrace. The constant opposition you make to his wishes, is both uselessand dangerous. Though you neither love nor respect him, and I should besorry if you could do either, yet he is entitled to obedience and acertain degree of deference as your guardian and master. "

"I never can willingly obey him, " I cried, angrily, "or bring my mindto submit to his authority. "

"In which, I assure you as a friend, you are wrong. As long as hiscommands do not interfere with any moral obligation, you are bound tolisten to them with respect. "

"The man has always been my enemy, and would you have me become apassive instrument in his hands?"

"Certainly, as long as you remain his clerk, and he does not requireyour aid in any villainous transaction. If his intentions towards youare evil, you cannot frustrate them better than by doing your duty. Believe me, Geoffrey, you have a more dangerous enemy to contend with, one bound to you by nearer ties, who exercises a more perniciousinfluence over your mind. "

"His sordid, selfish, counterpart--his _worthy_ son?"

George shook his head. 

I looked inquiringly. 

"A certain impetuous, wilful, wrong-headed boy, yclept GeoffreyMoncton. "

"Pish!" I exclaimed, shrugging my shoulders: "is this your friendship?"

"The best proof I can give you of it. "

I walked hastily to and fro, the narrow limits of the chamber, raising, at every step, a cloud of dust from folds of old, yellow parchment andmusty rolls of paper, which had accumulated there for the last halfcentury, and lay in a pile upon the floor. I was in no humour to listento a lecture, particularly when my own faulty temper was to be theprincipal subject, and form the text. Harrison watched my movements forsome time in silence, with a provokingly-amused air; not in the leastdiscouraged by my wayward mood; but evidently ready for another attack. 

"Prithee, Geoffrey, leave off raising that cloud of dust, disturbingthe evil spirits which have long slumbered in yon forgotten pile ofprofessional rubbish, and sit down quietly and listen to reason. "

I felt annoyed, and would not resume my place beside him, but, assuminga very stately air, seated myself opposite to my tormentor on a hugeiron chest, which was the only seat, save the bed, in the room; andthen, fixing my eyes reproachfully upon him, I sat as stiff as a poker, without relaxing a muscle of my face. 

He laughed outright. 

"You are displeased with my bluntness, Geoffrey, and I am amused withyour dignity. That solemn, proud face would become the Lord Chancellorof England. "

"Hold your tongue, you tormentor; I won't be laughed at in this absurdmanner. What have I done to deserve such a sermon?"

"'Vanity, vanity, all is vanity, saith the preacher, ' and surely, Geoffrey, your vanity exceeds all other vanity. I hint at a fault, andpoint it out for correction. You imagine yourself perfection, and areup in arms in a moment. Answer me, seriously: do you ever expect tosettle in life?"

"I have dared to cherish the forlorn hope. "

"Forlorn as it is, you are taking the best method to destroy it. "

"What would you have me do?"

"Yield to circumstances. "

"Become a villain?" This was said with a very tragic air. 

"May Heaven forbid! I should be sorry to see you so nearly resembleyour uncle. But I would have you avoid uselessly offending him; for, byconstantly inflaming his mind to anger, you may ruin your ownprospects, and be driven in desperation to adopt measures for obtaininga living, scarcely less dishonourable than his own. "

"Go on, " I cried: "it is all very well for you to talk in thisphilosophical strain. You have not been educated in the same bitterschool with me; you have not known what it is to writhe beneath theoppressive authority of this cold, unfeeling man; you cannot understandthe nature of my sufferings, or the painful humiliation I must dailyendure. "

He took my hand affectionately. 

"Geoffrey, " said he, "how do you know all this? Yours is not aprofession which allows men to jump at conclusions. What can you tellof my past or present trials. What if I should say, they had been fargreater and worse to bear than your own?"

"Impossible!"

"All things that have reference to sorrow and trouble, in this world, are only too possible. But I will have patience with you, my poorfriend; your heart is very sore. The deadly wounds in mine arepartially healed; yet, my experience of life has been bought withbitter tears;--the loss of hope, health and self-respect. I am willingthat you should profit by this; and, having made this confession, willyou condescend to hear my lecture to an end?"

"Oh, tell me something more about yourself. I would rather listen toyour sorrows, than have my faults paraded before me. "

A melancholy smile passed over his face. 

"Geoffrey, what a child you are! Listen to me. You have suffered thispersonal dislike to your uncle and his son to overtop, like some rankweed, every better growth of your mind; to destroy your moral integrityand mental advantages; to interfere with your studies, and prevent anybeneficial result which might arise from your situation as clerk inthis office. Is this wise?"

I remained obstinately silent. 

"You are lengthening the term of your bondage, and riveting the fettersyou are so anxious to break. Does not your uncle know this? Does he notlaugh at your impotent efforts to break his yoke from off your neck? Inone short year your articles will expire, and you will become a freeagent. But, with the little knowledge you have gained of yourprofession, what would liberty do for you? Would it procure for you abetter situation; establish your claims as a gentleman, or fill anempty purse?"

"Let the worst come to the worst, I could work for my bread. "

"Not such an easy thing as you imagine. "

"With health, strength and youth on my side, what should hinder me?"

"Your uncle's influence, which is very great. The world does not knowhim, as we know him. He is considered an upright, honourable man. Oneword from him would blast your character, and keep you out of everyoffice in London. "

I felt my cheeks grow pale. I had never seen matters in this lightbefore. Still, I would not yield to the arguments of my friend. Theobstinate spirit of the Monctons was in active operation just then, andwould not submit to reason. 

"There are more ways of earning a living than by following theprofession of the law, " said I doggedly. 

"To all of which you have an apprenticeship to serve. Think, Geoffrey, of the thousands of respectable young men who are looking foremployment in this vast metropolis, and how few are successful; andthen ask yourself, how you, without money, without friends, and with apowerful enemy to crush all your honest endeavours, and render themabortive, are likely to earn your own living. "

I was struck speechless, and for the first time in my life became awareof my utter inability to extricate myself out of the net ofdifficulties which surrounded me. 

"You are convinced at last. Look me steadily in the face, Geoffrey, andown that you are beaten. Nay, smooth that frowning brow: it makes youlook like Robert Moncton. Your profession is a fortune in itself, ifyou persevere in acquiring it. Be not discouraged by difficulties thatbeset the path. A poor man's road to independence is always up-hillwork. Duty fences the path on either side, and success waves her flagfrom the summit; but every step must be trod, often in ragged garments, and with bare feet, if we would reach the top. "

I pressed George Harrison's hand, silently within my own. He had won agreat victory over obstinacy and self-conceit. 

From that hour my prospects brightened. I became a new creature, fullof hope, activity and trust. My legal studies engaged all my leisuremoments. I had no time left to brood over my wrongs. My mind had formedan estimate of its own powers; the energetic spirit which had beenwasted in endless cavils and contradictions (for my temper was faultyand headstrong, and my uncle not always the aggressor) now asserted itsown dignity, and furnished me with the weapon most needed in such pettywarfare--self-respect. Harrison had given me a motive for exertion, andI was ashamed of having suffered my mental powers to remain so longinactive. As my mind recovered a healthy tone, my spirits rose inproportion. The thirst for improvement daily acquired new strength, while my industry not only surprised, but drew forth the commendationsof my uncle. 

"What has become of your churlish, morose temper, Geoffrey?" said he tome one day, at dinner; "why, boy, you are greatly changed of late. Froma sulky, impertinent, vindictive lad, you have become an industrious, agreeable, pleasant fellow. "

"It is never too late to mend, uncle, " said I, laughing, though I didnot much relish his portrait of what I had been. "My temper I found agreater punishment to myself than to others, so I thought it high timeto change it for a better. "

"You were perfectly right. I have a better hope for your future than Ionce had. I shall be able to make something out of you yet. "

This unlooked-for condescension on the part of Mr. Moncton, softenedthe hard feelings I had long cherished against him into a moreChristian-like endurance of his peculiarities; and the conscientiousdischarge of my own duty taught me to consider his interests as my own. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

UNGRATIFIED CURIOSITY. 

There is a period in every young man's first outset in life, whichgives a colouring to his future destiny. It is the time for action, formental and moral improvement, and the manner in which it is applied orneglected, will decide his character, or leave him weak and vacillatingall the days of his life. 

If this precious portion of existence be wasted in frivolousamusements, time gets the start of us, and no after-exertion willenable us to overtake him in his flight. This important era was mine;and I lost no opportunity of turning it to the best advantage. I workedearly and late in the office, and made myself master of the nature ofthe work which employed my hands. I learned the philosophy of those lawforms, which hitherto I had only copied mechanically, and looked uponas a weary task, and I soon reaped the benefit of my increased stock ofknowledge. Grave men, in the absence of my uncle, often applied to mefor information and advice, which I felt proud and happy in being ableto supply. 

Thus, I found that in serving my employer faithfully, I conferred thegreatest benefit on myself; and the hours devoted to study, while theyformed a pleasant recreation from the day labours of the office, wereamong the happiest and most sinless of my life. 

I was seldom admitted into my uncle's drawing-room, and never allowedto mingle with evening parties, which, during the brief visits ofTheophilus to his home, were not only frequent, but very brilliant. This I felt as a great hardship. My solitary and companionless youthhad deeply imbued my mind with romance. I was fond of castle-building;I pictured to myself the world as a paradise, and fancied that I was anillustrious actor in scenes of imaginary splendour, which bore noanalogy to the dull realities of my present life. 

I was a dreamer of wild dreams, and suffered my enthusiasm to get themaster of reason, and betray me into a thousand absurdities. My lovefor poetry and music was excessive. I played upon the flute by ear, andoften when alone dissipated my melancholy thoughts by breathing theminto the instrument. 

Through this medium, Harrison became an adept at discovering the stateof my feelings. "My flute told tales, " he said. "It always spoke thelanguage of my heart. " Yet from him I had few concealments. He was myfriend and bosom-counsellor, in whom I reposed the most unreservedconfidence. But strange to say, this confidence was not mutual. Therewas a mystery about George which I could not fathom; a mentalreservation which was tantalizing and inexplicable. 

He was a gentleman in education, appearance and manners, and possessedthose high and honourable feelings, which if displayed in a peasantwould rank him as one, and which are inseparable from all who reallydeserve the title. He never spoke to me of his family--never alluded tothe events of his past life, or the scenes in which his childhood hadbeen spent. He talked of sorrow and sickness--of chastisements in theschool of adversity, in general terms; but he never revealed the causeof these trials, or why a young man of his attainments was reduced to asituation so far below the station he ought to have held in society. 

I was half inclined to quarrel with him for so pertinaciouslyconcealing from me circumstances which I thought I had a right to know;and in which, when known, I was fully prepared to sympathize. Athousand times I was on the point of remonstrating with him on thisundue reserve, which appeared so foreign to his frank, open nature, butfeelings of delicacy restrained me. 

What right had _I_ to pry into his secrets? My impertinent curiositymight reopen wounds which time had closed. There were, doubtless, goodreasons for his withholding the information I coveted. 

Yet, I must confess that I had an intense curiosity--a burning desireto know the history of his past life. For many long months my wishesremained ungratified. 

At this time I felt an ardent desire to see something more of life, tomingle in the gay scenes of the great world around me. Pride, however, withheld me from accepting the many pressing invitations I dailyreceived from the clerks in the office, to join them in parties ofpleasure, to the theatres and other places of public amusement. Mr. Moncton had strictly forbidden me to leave the house of an evening; butas he was often absent of a night, I could easily have evaded hiscommands; but I scorned to expose to strangers the meanness of mywealthy relative, by confessing that mine was an empty purse; while thethought of enjoying myself at the expense of my generous companions, was not to be tolerated for an instant. If I could not go as agentleman, and pay my own share of the entertainment, I determined notto go at all; and these resolutions met with the entire approbation ofmy friend Harrison. 

"Wait patiently, Geoffrey, and fortune will pay up the arrears of thelong debt she owes you. It is an old and hackneyed saying, 'That richesalone, cannot confer happiness upon the possessor. '"

"My uncle and cousin are living demonstrations of the truth of theproverb. Mr. Moncton is affluent, and might enjoy all the luxuries thatwealth can procure; yet he toils with as much assiduity to increase hisriches, as the poorest labourer does to earn bread for his family. Hecan acquire, but has not the heart to enjoy--while the bad dispositionof Theophilus would render him, under any circumstances, a miserableman. Yet, after all, George, in this bad world, money is power. "

"Only, to a certain extent: to be happy, a man must be good;religiously, morally, physically. He must bear upon his heart the imageof the Prince of Peace, before he can truly value the glorious boon oflife. "

"I wish I could see these things in the same calm unprejudiced light, "said I; "but I find it a bitter mortification, after so many years ofhard labour, to be without a penny to pay for seeing a raree-show. "

Harrison laughed heartily, "You will perhaps say, that it is easy forme to preach against riches; but like the Fox in the fable, the grapesare sour. I speak, however, with indifference of the good thatProvidence has placed beyond my reach. Geoffrey, I was once the enviedpossessor of wealth, which in my case was productive of much evil. "

"How did you lose such an advantage?" I eagerly exclaimed, "do tell mesomething of your past life?"

This was the first allusion he had made to his former circumstances;and I was determined not to let the opportunity pass unnoticed. 

He seemed to guess my thoughts. "Are you anxious for a humiliatingconfession, of vanity, folly and prodigality? Well, Geoffrey, you shallhave it; but mark me--it will only be in general terms--I cannot enterinto particulars. I was born poor, and unexpectedly became rich, andlike many persons in like circumstances, I was ashamed of my meanorigin; and thought, by making a dashing appearance and squanderinglavishly my wealth, to induce men to forget my humble birth. The worldapplauds such madness as long as the money lasts, and for a shortperiod, I had friends and flatterers at will. 

"My brief career terminated in ruin and disgrace: wealth which is notacquired by industry, is seldom retained by prudence; and to thoseunacquainted with the real value of money, a large sum always appearsinexhaustible. So it was with me. I spent, without calculating thecost, and soon lost all. The world now wore a very different aspect. Iwas deserted by all my gay associates; my most intimate companionspassed me in the streets without recognition. I knew that this would bethe result of my altered fortunes, yet the reality cut me to the heart. 

"These are mortifying lessons, which experience, wisdom's bestcounsellor, daily teaches us; and a man must either be veryself-conceited, or very insensible, who cannot profit by her valuableinstructions. The hour which brought to me the humiliating conviction, that I was a person of no consequence; that the world could go on verywell without me; that my merry companions would not be one jot lessfacetious, though I was absent from their jovial parties, was after allnot the most miserable of my life. 

"I woke as from a dream. The scales had fallen from my eyes. I knewmyself--and became a wiser and better man. I called all my creditorstogether, discharged my debts, and found myself free of the world inthe most liberal sense. 

"Good Heavens!" I exclaimed. "How could you bear such a dreadfulreverse with such fortitude--such magnanimity?"

"You give me greater credit than I deserve, Geoffrey: my imprudentconduct merited a severe punishment, and I had sense enough to discernthat it was just. After the first shock was over, I felt happier in mypoverty than I had ever done during my unmerited prosperity. I hadabused the gifts of fortune while they were mine, and I determined toacquire an independence by my own exertions. A friend, whom I hadscarcely regarded as such, during my reckless career of folly, cameunexpectedly to my assistance, and offered to purchase for me acommission in the army, but I had private reasons for wishing to obtaina situation in this office. Writing a good hand, and having beenoriginally educated for the profession, together with therecommendation of Mr. Bassett who was related to my friend, procured methe place I now hold. "

"And your reasons for coming here?" I cried, burning with curiosity. 

"Pardon me, Geoffrey. That is my secret. "

He spoke with the calmness of a philosopher, but I saw his emotion, ashis eyes turned mechanically to the parchment he was copying, andaffected an air of cheerful resignation. 

The candid exposure of his past faults and follies raised, rather thansunk him in my estimation; but I was sadly disappointed at the generalterms in which they were revealed. I wanted to know every event of hisprivate life, and this abridgment was very tantalizing. 

While I was pondering these things in my heart, the pen he had graspedso tightly was flung to some distance, and he raised his fine eyes tomy face. 

"Thank God! Geoffrey; I have not as yet lost the faculty offeeling--that I can see and deplore the errors of the past. When Ithink what I was, what I am, and what I might have been, it brings acloud over my mind which often dissolves in tears. This is the weaknessof human nature. But the years so uselessly wasted rise up in dreadarray against me, and the flood-gates of the soul are broken up bybitter and remorseful regrets. But see, " he exclaimed, dashing thethickening mist from his eyes, and resuming his peculiarly benevolentsmile: "the dark cloud has passed, and George is himself again. "

"You are happier than I. You can smile through your tears, " I cried, regarding his April face with surprise. 

"And so would you, Geoffrey, if, like me, you had brought your passionsunder the subjection of reason. "

"It is no easy task, George, to storm a city, when your own subjectsdefend the walls, and at every attack drive you back with your ownweapons, into the trenches. I will, however, commence the attack, bystriving to forget that there is a world beyond these gloomy walls, inwhose busy scenes I am forbidden to mingle. "

"Valiantly resolved, Geoffrey. But how comes it, that you did not tellme the news this morning?"

"News--what news?"

"Your cousin Theophilus returned last night. "

"The devil he did! That's everything but good news to me. But are yousure the news is true?"

"My landlady is sister to Mr. Moncton's housekeeper. I had myinformation from her. She tells me that the father and son are on verybad terms. "

"I have seldom heard Mr. Moncton mention him of late. I wonder we havenot seen him in the office. He generally pays us an early visit to showoff his fine clothes, and to insult me. "

"Talk of his satanic majesty, Geoff. You know the rest. Here comes theheir of the house of Moncton. "

"He does not belong to the elder branch, " I cried, fiercely. "Poor as Iam, I consider myself the head of the house, and one of these days willdispute his right to that title. "

"Tush!" said George, resuming his pen, "you are talking sad nonsense. But hereby hangs a tale. "

I looked up inquiringly. Harrison was hard at work. I saw a mischievoussmile hovering about his lips. He turned his back abruptly to the door, and bent more closely over his parchment, as Theophilus Moncton enteredthe office equipped for a journey. 

CHAPTER IX. 

A PORTRAIT. 

Two years had passed away since I last beheld my cousin, and during hisabsence, there had been peace between his father and me. He appearedbefore me like the evil genius of the house, prepared to renew the oldhostility, and I could not meet him with the least show of cordialityand affection. 

I am not a good hand at sketching portraits, but the person of mycousin is so fresh in my memory, his image so closely interwoven withall the leading events of my life, that I can scarcely fail in giving atolerably correct likeness of the original. 

He was about the middle stature, his figure slender and exceedinglywell made: and but for a strong dash of affectation, which marred allthat he did and said, his carriage would have been easy and graceful. His head was small and handsomely placed upon his shoulders, hisfeatures sharply defined and very prominent. His teeth were remarkablywhite, but so long and narrow, that they gave a peculiarly sinister andmalicious expression to his face--which expression was greatlyheightened by the ghastly contortion that was meant for a smile, andwhich was in constant requisition, in order to show off the said teeth, which Theophilus considered one of his greatest attractions. But mycousin had no personal attractions. There was nothing manly or decidedabout him. Smooth and insidious where he wished to please, his firstappearance to strangers was always unprepossessing; and few persons ontheir first introduction had any great desire to extend theiracquaintance. 

He ought to have been fair, for his hair and whiskers were of thepalest tint of brown; but his complexion was grey and muddy, and hislarge sea-green eyes afforded not the least contrast to the uniformsmokiness of his skin. Those cold, selfish, deceitful eyes; hisfather's in shape and expression, but lacking the dark strength--thestern, determined look which at times lighted up Robert Moncton'sproud, cruel face. 

Much as I disliked the father, he was in his worst moods more tolerableto me than his son. Glimpses of his mind would at times flash outthrough those unnaturally bright eyes; and betray somewhat of the hellwithin; but Theophilus was close and dark--a sealed book which no mancould open and read. An overweening sense of his own importance was theonly trait of his character which lay upon the surface; and this, hismaster-failing, was revealed by every look and gesture. 

A servile flatterer to persons of rank, and insolent and tyrannical tothose whom he considered beneath him, he united in his character, thequalifications of both tyrant and slave. 

The most brilliant sallies of wit could not produce the leastbrightening effect upon his saturnine countenance, or the most patheticburst of eloquence draw the least moisture to his eye, which onlybecame animated when contradicting some well-received opinion, ordiscussing the merits of an acquaintance, and placing his faults andfollies in the most conspicuous light. 

He was endowed with excellent practical abilities, possessed a mostretentive memory, and a thorough knowledge of the most intricatewindings of the human heart. Nothing escaped his observation. It wouldhave been a difficult matter to have made a tool of one, whosesuspicions were always wide awake; who never acted from impulse, orwithout a motive, and who had a shrewd knack of rendering the passionsof others subservient to his own. 

He was devoted to sensual pleasures, but the mask he wore, soeffectually concealed his vicious propensities, that the most cautiousparents would have admitted him without hesitation into their familycircle. Robert Moncton thought himself master of the mind of his son, and fancied him a mere puppet in his hands; but his cunning was foiledby the superior cunning of Theophilus, and he ultimately became thedupe and victim of the being for whose aggrandizement he did notscruple to commit the worst crimes. 

Theophilus was extremely neat in his dress, and from the cravat to thewell-polished boot, his costume was perfect. An effeminate, solemn-looking dandy outwardly--within, as ferocious and hard a humanbiped as ever disgraced the name of man. 

"Well, Geoff!" said he, condescendingly presenting his hand, "what haveyou been doing for the last two years?"

"Writing, in the old place, " said I, carelessly. 

"A fixture!--ha, ha! 'A rolling stone, ' they say, 'gathers no moss. 'How does that agree with your stationary position?"

"It only proves, that all proverbs have two sides to them, " said I. "You roll about the world and scatter the moss that I sit here to helpaccumulate. "

"What a lucky dog you are, " said he, "to escape so easily from thesnares and temptations of this wicked world. While I am tormented withennui, blue-devils and dyspepsia, you sit still and grow in stature andknowledge. By Jove! you are too big to wear my cast-off suits now. Myvalet will bless the increase of your outward man, and I don't thinkyou have at all profited by the circumstance. Where the deuce did youget that eccentric turn-out? It certainly does not remind one of BondStreet. "

"Mr. Theophilus!" I cried, reddening with indignation. "Did you comehere on purpose to insult me?"

"Sit still, now, like a good lad, and don't fly into heroics and giveus a scene. I am too lazy to pick a quarrel with you. What a confoundedwet morning! It has disarranged all my plans. I ordered the groom tobring up my mare at eleven. The rain commenced at ten. I think it meansto keep on at this rate all day. "

He cast a peevish glance at the dusty ground-glass windows. 

"There's no catching a glimpse of heaven through these dim panes. Myfather's clerks are not called upon to resist the temptation of lookinginto the streets. "

"They might not inappropriately be called the pains and penalties oflawyer's clerks, " said I, smothering my anger, as I saw by the motionof Harrison's head, that he was suffering from an agony of suppressedlaughter. 

"Not a bad idea that. The plan of grinding the glass was suggested byme. An ingenious one, is it not? My father had the good sense to adoptit. It's a pity that his example is not followed by all the lawyers andmerchants in London. "

In spite of the spattering of Harrison's pen, which told me as plainlyas words could have done, that he was highly amused at the scene, Ifelt irritated at Theophilus joking about a circumstance which, to me, was a great privation and annoyance. 

"If _you_ had a seat in this office, Mr. Theophilus, " said I, laying astrong stress upon the personal pronoun, "you would, I am certain, takegood care to keep a peep-hole, well-glazed, for your own convenience. "

"If I were in the office, " he replied, with one of his sidelong, satirical glances, "I should have too much to do in keeping the clerksat work and in their places, to have much time for looking out of thewindow. My father would do well to hire an overseer for _idle_ hands. "

Harrison's tremulous fit increased, while I was burning withindignation, and rose passionately from my seat. 

"Geoffrey"--pronounced in an undertone, restrained me from committingan act of violence. I resumed my stool, muttering audibly between myteeth--

"Contemptible puppy!"

I was quite ready for a quarrel, but Theophilus, contrary to myexpectations, did not choose to take any notice of my imprudent speech. Not that he wanted personal courage. Like the wasp, he could, whenunprovoked, attack others, and sting with tenfold malice when he feltor fancied an affront. His forbearance on the present occasion, Iattributed to the very handsome riding-dress in which he had encasedhis slight and elegant form. A contest with a strong, powerful youngfellow like me, might have ended in its demolition:

Slashing his boot with his riding-whip, and glancing carelessly towardsthe window, he said, with an air of perfect indifference, "Well, if the rain means to pour in this way all day, it is certainthat I cannot prosecute my journey to Dover on horseback. I must takethe coach, and leave the groom to follow with the horses. "

"Dover!" I repeated, with an involuntary start, "are you off forFrance?"

"Yes" (with a weary yawn); "I shall not return until I have made thetour of Europe, and I just stepped in for a moment to say good-by. "

"_Unusually_ kind, " said I, with a sneer. 

He remained silent for a few minutes, and seemed slightly embarrassed, as if he found difficulty in bringing out what he had to say. 

"Geoffrey, I may be absent several years. It is just possible that wemay never meet again. "

"I hope so, " was the response in my heart, while he continued, "Your time in this office expires when you reach your majority. Ourpaths in life are very different, and from that period I must insistupon our remaining perfect strangers to each other. "

Before I had time to answer his ungracious speech, he turned upon hisheel and left the office, and me literally foaming with passion. 

"Thank God he is gone!" cried Harrison. "My dear Geoff, accept mysincere congratulations. It would indeed be a blessing did you nevermeet again. "

"Oh, that he had stayed another minute that I might have demolished hisgay plumes! I am so angry, so mortified, George, that I can scarcelycontrol myself. "

"Nonsense! His departure is a fortunate event for you. "

"Of course--the absence of one so actively annoying, must make mybondage more tolerable. "

"Listen to me, petulant boy! there is war in the camp. Theophilusleaves the house under the ban of his father's anger. They have had adesperate quarrel, and he quits London in disgrace; and if you are nota gainer by this change in the domestic arrangements, my name is notGeorge Harrison. "

"Why do you think so?"

"Because I know more of Robert Moncton than you do. To provoke his sonto jealousy, he will take you into favour. If Theophilus has gone toofar--he is so revengeful, so unforgiving--he may, probably, make youhis heir. "

"May God forbid!" cried I, vehemently. 

Harrison laughed. 

"Gold is too bright to betray the dirty channels through which itflows--and I feel certain, Geoffrey----"

A quick rap at the office-door terminated all further colloquy, and Irose to admit the intruder. 

Harrison and I generally wrote in an inner, room, which opened into thepublic office; and a passage led from the apartment we occupied intoMr. Moncton's private study, in which he generally spent the fore-partof the day, and in which he received persons who came to consult him onparticular business. 

On opening the door which led into the public office, a woman wrappedclosely in a black camblet cloak, glided into the room. 

Her face was so completely concealed by the large calash and veil shewore, and, but for the stoop in the shoulders, it would have beendifficult at a first glance to have determined her age. 

"Is Mr. Moncton at home?" Her voice was harsh and unpleasant; it had ahissing, grating intonation, which was painful to the ear. 

The moment the stranger spoke, I saw Harrison start, and turn verypale. He rose hastily from his seat and walked to a case of law-bookswhich stood in a dark recess, and taking down a volume, continuedstanding with his back towards us, as if intently occupied with itscontents. 

This circumstance made me regard the woman with more attention. Sheappeared about sixty years of age. Her face was sharp, her eyes blackand snake-like, while her brow was channelled into deep furrows whichmade you think it almost impossible that she had ever been young orhandsome. Her upper lip was unusually short, and seemed to writhe witha constant sneer; and in spite of her corrugated brow, long nose, andcurved chin, which bore the unmistakable marks of age, her fine teethshone white and ghastly, when she unclosed her fleshless, thin lips. Aworse, or more sinister aspect, I have seldom, during the course of mylife, beheld. 

In answer to her inquiry, I informed her that Mr. Moncton was at home, but particularly engaged; and had given orders for no one to beadmitted to his study before noon. 

With a look of bitter disappointment, she then asked to speak to Mr. Theophilus. 

"He has just left for France, and will not return for several years. "

"Gone!--and I am too late, " she muttered to herself. "If I cannot seethe son, I _must_ and _will_ speak to the father. "

"Your business, then, was with Mr. Theophilus?" said I, no longer ableto restrain my curiosity; for I was dying to learn something of thestrange being whose presence had given my friend Harrison's nerves sucha sudden shock. 

"Impertinent boy!" said she with evident displeasure. "Who taught youto catechise your elders? Go, and tell your employer that _DinahNorth_ is here; and _must_ see him immediately. "

As I passed the dark nook in which Harrison was playing at hide andseek, he laid his hand upon my arm, and whispered in French, a languagehe spoke fluently, and in which he had been giving me lessons for sometime, "My happiness is deeply concerned in yon hag's commission. Readwell Moncton's countenance, and note down his words, while you deliverher message, and report your observations to me. "

I looked up in his face with astonishment. His countenance was lividwith excitement and agitation, and his whole frame trembled. Before Icould utter a word, he had quitted the office. Amazed and bewildered, Iglanced back towards the being who was the cause of this emotion, andwhom I now regarded with intense interest. 

She had sunk down into Harrison's vacant seat, her elbows supported onher knees, and her head resting between the palms of her hands: herface completely concealed from observation. "Dinah North, " I whisperedto myself; "that is a name I never heard before. Who the deuce can shebe?" With a flushed cheek and hurried step, I hastened to my uncle'sstudy to deliver her message. 

I found him alone: he was seated at the table, looking over a long rollof parchment. He was much displeased at the interruption, and reprovedme in a stern voice for disobeying his positive orders; and, by way ofconciliation, I repeated my errand. 

"Tell that woman, " he cried, in a voice hoarse with emotion, "that I_will not_ see her! nor any one belonging to her. "

"The mystery thickens, " thought I. "What can all this mean?"

On re-entering the office, I found the old woman huddled up in her wetclothes, in the same dejected attitude in which I had left her. When Iaddressed her, she raised her head with a fierce, menacing gesture. Sheevidently mistook me for Mr. Moncton, and smiled disdainfully onperceiving her error. When I repeated his answer, it was received witha bitter and derisive laugh. 

"He will not see me?"

"I have given you my uncle's answer. "

"_Uncle!_" she cried, with a repetition of the same horrid laugh. "Bycourtesy, I suppose; I was not aware that there was another shoot ofthat accursed tree. "

I gazed upon her like one in a dream. The old woman drew a slip ofpaper from her bosom, bidding me convey _that_ to my _worthy_ uncle, and ask him, in her name, "whether he, or his son, _dared_ to refuseadmittance to the bearer. "

I took the billet from her withered hand, and once more proceeded tothe study. As I passed through the passage, an irresistible impulse ofcuriosity induced me to glance at the paper, which was unsealed, and myeye fell upon the following words, traced in characters of uncommonbeauty and delicacy:

 "If Robert Moncton refuses to admit my claims, and to do me justice, I will expose his villainy, and his son's heartless desertion, to the world. 

 "A. M. "

I had scarcely read the mysterious billet than I felt that I had donewrong. I was humbled and abashed in my own eyes, and the riddleappeared as difficult of solution as ever. My uncle's voice sounded asominously in my ears as the stroke of a death-bell, as he called mesharply by name. Hastily refolding the note, I went into his study, andplaced it on the table before him, with an averted glance and tremblinghand. I dreaded lest his keen, clear eye should read guilt in myconscious face. Fortunately for me, he was too much agitated himself tonotice my confusion. He eagerly clutched the paper, and his aspect grewdark as he perused it. 

"Geoffrey, " said he, and his voice, generally so clear and passionless, sunk into a choking whisper, "Is that woman gone?"

"No, uncle, she is still there, and dares you to refuse heradmittance. "

I had thought Robert Moncton icy and immovable--that his blood neverflowed like the blood of other men. I had deceived myself. Beneath thesnow-capped mountain, the volcano conceals its hottest fires. Myuncle's cold exterior was but the icy crust that hid the fiercepassions which burnt within his breast. He forgot my presence in theexcitement of the moment, and the stern unfeeling eye blazed with luridfire. 

"Fool!--madman--insane idiot!" he cried, tearing the note to pieces, and trampling on the fragments in his ungovernable rage: "how have youmarred your own fortune, destroyed your best hopes, and annihilated allmy plans for your future advancement!"

Suddenly he became conscious of my presence, and glancing at me withhis usual iron gravity, said, with an expression of haughtyindifference, as if my opinion of his extraordinary conduct was matterof no importance, "Geoffrey, go and tell that mad-woman--But no. I will go myself. "

He advanced to the door, seemed again irresolute, and finally bade meshow her into the study. Dinah North rose with alacrity to obey thesummons, and for a person of her years, seemed to possess greatactivity of mind and body. I felt a secret loathing for the hag, andpitied my uncle the unpleasant conference which I was certain awaitedhim. 

Mr. Moncton had resumed his seat in his large study chair, and he rosewith such calm dignity to receive his unwelcome visitor, that his lateagitation appeared a delusion of my own heated imagination. 

Curiosity was one of my besetting sins. Ah, how I longed to know thesubstance of their discourse; for I felt a mysterious presentiment thatin some way or another, my future destiny was connected with thisstranger. I recalled the distress of Harrison, the dark hints he hadthrown out respecting me, and his evident knowledge, not only of theold woman, but of the purport of her visit. 

I was tortured with conjectures. I lingered in the passage; but theconversation was carried on in too low a tone for me even todistinguish a solitary monosyllable; and ashamed of acting the part ofa spy, I stole back with noiseless steps to my place in the office. Ifound George at his desk: his face was very pale, and I thought I couldperceive traces of strong emotion. For some time he wrote on insilence, without asking a word about the secret that I was burning totell. I was the first to speak and lead him to the subject. 

"Do you know that horrible old woman, George?"

"Too well: she is my grandmother, and nursed me in my infancy. "

"Then, what made you so anxious to avoid a recognition?"

"I did not want her to know that I was living. She believes me dead:nay more, " he continued, lowering his voice to a whisper, "she thinksshe murdered me. " His lips quivered as he murmured, in half-smotheredtones: "And she--the beautiful, the lost one--what will become of her?"

"Oh, Harrison, " I cried, "do speak out; do not torture me with thesedark hints. If you are a true friend, give me your whole confidence, nor let your silence give rise to painful conjectures and doubts. Ihave no concealments from you. Such mental reservation on your part isevery thing but kind. "

"I frankly acknowledge that you have just cause to suspect me, " saidGeorge, with his usual sad, winning smile. "But this is not a safeplace to discuss matters of vital interest to us both--matters whichinvolve life and death. I trust to clear up the mystery one of thesedays, and for that purpose I am here. But tell me: how did Monctonreceive this woman--this Dinah North?"

I related the scene. When I repeated the contents of the note, his calmface crimsoned with passion, his eyes flashed, and his lips quiveredwith indignation. 

"Yes, I thought it would come to that; unhappy, miserable Alice! howcould you bestow the affections of a warm, true heart on a despicablewretch like Theophilus Moncton. The old fiend's ambition and this fatalpassion have been your ruin. "

For some time he remained with his face bowed upon his hands. Atlength, raising his head, and turning to me with great animation, heasked if I knew any of my father's relations, besides Robert Monctonand his son?

"I was not aware that I had any other relatives. "

"They are by no means a prolific race, Geoffrey. And has yourinsatiable curiosity never led you to make the inquiry?"

"I dared not ask my uncle. My aunt told me that, but for them, I shouldbe alone in the world. It was a subject never discussed before me, " Icontinued, after a long pause, in which George seemed busy with his ownthoughts. "I understood that my uncle had only one brother. "

"True, " said George, "but he has a cousin; a man of great wealth andconsequence. Did you never hear Theophilus mention Sir AlexanderMoncton?"

"Never. "

"Nor to whom his long visits in Yorkshire were made?"

"How should I? No confidence existed between us. I was indifferent toall his movements; not imagining that they could in any degree interestme. "

"I begin to see my way through this tangled maze, " returned George, musingly. "I now understand the secluded manner in which you have beenbrought up; and their reasons for keeping you a prisoner within thesewalls. They have an important game to play, in which they do not wantyou to act a conspicuous part. I can whisper a secret into your earswell worth the knowing--ay, and the keeping, too. Geoffrey Moncton, youare this Sir Alexander's _heir_!"

A sudden thrill shot through my whole frame. It was not pleasure, forat that moment I felt sad enough; nor hope, for I had long accustomedmyself to look only on the dark side of the picture. It was, I fear, revenge; a burning desire to pay back the insults and injuries I hadreceived from Theophilus Moncton, and to frustrate the manoeuvres ofhis designing father. 

"Has Sir Alexander no children?"

"He has a daughter--an only daughter, a fair, fragile girl of sixteen;the noblest, the most disinterested of her sex; a creature as talentedas she is beautiful. Margaretta Moncton is destined to be the wife ofher cousin Theophilus. "

"Does he love her?"

"How can you ask that question, knowing the man, and after having readthe note addressed to your uncle?"

"That note was signed A---- M----. "

"It was written by an unhappy, infatuated creature, whom Theophilus_did_ love, if such a passion as his callous bosom can feel, deservesthe name; but he shall not escape my vengeance. The arrow is in thebow, and a punishment as terrible as his crime, shall overtake himyet. "

"Oh, that you would enter more fully into these dark details. You areingenious at tormenting. I am bewildered and lost amid these halfdisclosures. "

"Hush, Geoffrey! these walls have ears. I, too, am tortured, maddenedby your questions. You are too imprudent--too impulsive, to trust withmatters of such vital importance; I have revealed too much already. Tryand forget the events of this morning; nor let your uncle discover bylook, word or gesture, that you are in possession of his secret. He isdeeply offended with his son, not on account of his base conduct tothis poor orphan girl, but because it is likely to hinder his marriagewith Miss Moncton, which has been for years the idol wish of his heart. His morose spirit, once aroused, is deadly and implacable; and in orderto make Theophilus feel the full weight of his anger, he may call youto fill his vacant place. "

The sound of Mr. Moncton's step in the passage put a sudden stop to ourconversation, but enough had been said to rouse my curiosity to thehighest pitch; and I tried in vain to lift the dark veil offuturity--to penetrate the mysteries that its folds concealed. 

CHAPTER X. 

DREAMS. 

I went to bed early, and tried in vain to sleep. The events of the daypassed continually through my brain, and brought on a nervous headache. All the blood in my body seemed concentrated in my head, leaving myfeet and hands paralyzed with cold. After tossing about for many hours, I dropped off into a sort of mesmeric sleep, full of confused images, among which the singular face of Dinah North haunted me like the geniusof the night-mare. 

Dreams are one of the greatest mysteries in the unsolved problem oflife. I have been a dreamer from my cradle, and if any person couldexplain the phenomena, the practical experience of a long life ought tohave invested me with that power. 

Most persons, in spite of themselves, or what they consider to be theirbetter judgment, attach a superstitious importance to these visions ofthe night; nor is the vague belief in the spiritual agency employed indreams, diminished by the remarkable dreams and their fulfilment, whichare recorded in Holy Writ, the verity of which we are taught to believeas an article of faith. 

My eyes are scarcely closed in sleep, before I become an actor inscenes of the most ludicrous or terrific nature. All my mental andphysical faculties become intensified, and enjoy the highest state ofperfection; as if the soul centered in itself the qualities of itsmysterious triune existence. 

Beautiful visions float before the sight, such as the waking eye neverbeheld; and the ear is ravished with music which no earthly skill couldproduce. The dreaming sense magnifies all sounds and sights which existin nature. The thunder deepens its sonorous tone, ocean sends up alouder voice, and the whirlwind shakes the bending forest with tenfoldfury. 

I have beheld in sleep the mountains reel; the yawning earth discloseher hidden depths, and the fiery abyss swarm with hideous forms, whichno waking eye could contemplate, and the mind retain its rationality. Ihave beheld the shrinking sea yield up the dead of ages, and have foundmyself a guilty and condemned wretch, trembling at the bar of EternalJustice. 

"Oh! what have I not beheld in sleep?"

I have been shut up, a living sentient creature in the cold, dank, noisome grave; have felt the loathsome worm slide along my warm, quivering limbs; the toad find a resting-place upon my breast; theadder wreath her slimy folds round my swelling throat; have struggledagainst the earthly weight that pressed out my soul and palsied mybursting heart, with superhuman strength; but every effort to freemyself from my prison of clay was made in vain. My lips weremotionless; my tongue clave to the roof of my mouth and refused to sendforth a sound. Hope was extinct. I was beyond the reach of human aid;and that mental agony rendered me as powerless, as a moth in the graspof a giant. 

I have stood upon the edge of the volcano, and listened to thethrobbings of Nature's fiery heart; and heard the boiling blood ofearth, chafing and roaring far below; while my eyes vainly endeavouredto explore its glowing depths. Anon, by some fatal necessity, I wascompelled to cross this terrible abyss--my bridge, a narrow plankinsecurely placed upon the rounded stems of two yielding, saplingtrees. Suddenly, frightful cries resounded on every side, and I waspursued by fiend-like forms in the shape of animal life. I put my footupon the fearful bridge, I tried its strength, and felt a horridconsciousness that I never could pass over it in safety; mysupernatural enemies drew nearer--I saw their blazing eyes--heard theirlow muttered growls; the next moment I leaped upon the plank--with aloud crash it severed--and with the velocity of thought, I was plungedheadlong into the boiling gulf--down--down--down--for ever whirlingdown--the hot flood rushed over me. I felt the spasmodic grasp of deathupon my throat, and awoke struggling with eternity upon the thresholdof time. 

Most persons of a reflective character, have kept a diary of theordinary occurrences of life. I reversed this time-honoured mentalexercise; and for some months, noted down what I could remember of thetransactions of the mind, during its sleeping hours. 

So wild and strange were these records, so eccentric the vagaries ofthe soul during its nocturnal wanderings, that I was induced to abandonthe task, lest some friend hereafter, might examine, the mystic scroll, and conclude that it was written by a maniac. 

It happened, that on the present night, I was haunted by a dream ofmore than ordinary wildness. 

I dreamt that I stood in the centre of a boundless plain of sand, whichundulated beneath my feet like the waves of the sea. Presently, I heardthe rushing of a mighty wind, and as the whirl-blast swept over thedesert, clouds of sand were driven before it, and I was lifted off myfeet, and carried along the tide of dust as lightly as a leaf iswhirled onward through the air. All objects fled as I advanced, andeach moment increased the velocity of my flight. 

A vast forest extended its gloomy arms athwart the horizon; but did notarrest my aerial journey. The thick boughs groaned and crashed beneathme, as I was dragged through their matted foliage; my limbs laceratedand torn, and my hair tangled amid the thorny branches. Vainly Iendeavoured to cling to the twigs which impeded my passage, but theyeluded my frenzied grasp, or snapped in my hands, while my cries forhelp were drowned in the thundering sweep of the mighty gale. Onward--onward. I was still flying onward without the aid of wings. There seemed no end to that interminable flight. 

At length, when I least expected a change, I was suddenly cast to thebottom of a deep pit. The luxury of repose to my wounded and exhaustedframe, was as grateful and refreshing as the dews of heaven to the longparched earth. I lay in a sort of pleasing helplessness, too glad toescape from past perils to imagine a recurrence of the same evil. 

While dreamily watching the swallows, tending their young in the holesof the sandy bank that formed the walls of my prison, I observed thesand at the bottom of the pit caught up in little eddies and whirlinground and round. A sickening feeling of dread stole over me, and Icrouched down in an agony of fear, and clung with all my strength tothe tufts of thorny shrubs which clothed the sides of the pit. 

Again the wind-fiend caught me up on his broad pinions, and I was oncemore traversing with lightning speed the azure deserts of air. Aburning heat was in my throat--my eyes seemed bursting from theirsockets; confused sounds were murmuring in my ears, and the veryblackness of darkness swallowed me up. No longer carried upward, I wasnow rapidly descending from some tremendous height. I stretched forthmy hands to grasp some tangible substance in order to break the horrorsof that fall, but all above, around, and beneath me, was emptyair;--the effort burst the chains of that ghastly slumber, and I awokewith a short stifled cry of terror, exclaiming with devotional fervour, "Thank God! it is only a dream!"

The damp dews stood in large drops upon my brow, my hands were tightlyclenched, and every hair upon my head seemed stiffened and erect withfear. 

"Thank God!" I once more exclaimed in an agony of gratitude, "it isonly a dream!"

Then arose the question: "What was the import of this dream, theeffects of which I still felt through all my trembling frame, in theviolent throbbing of my heart, and the ghastly cessation of everyemotion save that of horror?"

Then I began to ponder, as I had done a thousand times before, over themysterious nature of dreams, the manner in which they had been employedby the Almighty to communicate important truths to mankind, until Icame to the conclusion that dreams were revelations from the spiritland, to warn us of dangers which threatened, or to punish us forcrimes committed in the flesh. 

"What are the visions which haunt the murderer's bed, " I thought, "butphantoms of the past recalled by memory and conscience, and investedwith an actual presence in sleep?"

Dr. Young, that melancholy dreamer of sublime dreams, has said--

 "If dreams infest the grave, I wake emerging from a sea of dreams. "

What a terrible idea of future punishment is contained in these wordsto one, whose sleep like mine is haunted by unutterable terrors! Thinkof an eternity of dreaming horrors. A hell condensed within the narrowresting-place of the grave. 

My reveries were abruptly dispelled by the sound of steps along thepassage which led to my chamber. My heart began to beat audibly. It wasthe dead hour of the night--who could be waking at such an unusualtime? I sat up in the bed and listened. 

I heard voices: two persons were talking in a loud tone in the passage, that was certain. For a long time, I could not distinguish one wordfrom another, until my own name was suddenly pronounced in a louderkey; and in a voice which seemed perfectly familiar to my ears. 

The garret in which I slept, was a long, low, dingy apartment whichformed a sort of repository for all the worn-out law books and wastepapers belonging to the office, and as I have before stated the onlyfurniture it possessed, was a mean truckle-bed on which I slept, and alarge iron chest, which Mr. Moncton had informed me, containedtitle-deeds and other valuable papers, of which he himself kept thekey. 

They were kept in my apartment for better security; as the stair whichled to the flat roof of the house opened into that chamber, and in caseof fire, the chest and its contents could be easily removed. 

For a wonder, I had never felt the least curiosity about the chest andits contents. 

It stood in the old place, the day I first entered that dismalapartment when a child; and during the many long years which had slowlyintervened, I never recollected having seen it unclosed. My attentionfor the first time was drawn to its existence by hearing my uncle sayto some one in the passage in a hurried under tone. 

"Set your mind at rest, the paper is in the iron chest in that room. Ifyou will not rely upon my promise to destroy it, I will burn it beforeyour eyes. "

"That alone will satisfy my doubts, " returned his companion. "Becautious how you open the door, or the lad will awake. "

"Nonsense, young folks like him sleep well. "

"Ay, Robert Moncton, they are not troubled with an evil conscience. "

This last observation was accompanied with a low sarcastic laugh; andwith an involuntary shiver, I recognized in the mysterious speaker theold woman who had haunted my dreams. 

"Conscience never troubles me, Dinah, " returned Moncton, gloomily. "Youfirst taught me to drown its warning voice. "

"You were an apt pupil, " said the woman. "All your natural tendencieswere evil. I only fostered and called them out. But what is the use ofrecalling unpleasant truths. Why don't you silence memory, when youhave ceased to feel remorse. But I tell you what it is, Moncton. Thepresence of the one proves the existence of the other. The serpent issleeping in his coil, and one of these days you will feel the strengthof his fangs. Is this the door that leads to his chamber? You havechosen a sorry dormitory for the heir of the proud house of Moncton. "

"Hush! I wish he slept with his fathers. But even if he should awake, how could he guess, that our visit to his chamber could in any wayconcern him?"

"He has a shrewd face, an intelligent eye--an eye to detect treachery, and defy danger. "

"On the contrary, a babe might deceive him. "

"He has been educated in too hard a school to revel in such ignorance, Moncton. "

"Hold your tongue, Dinah, and give me the light. Remember how you weredeceived in his cousin Philip. "

Mr. Moncton's hand was on the lock of the door: an almost irresistibleimpulse urged me to spring from the bed and draw the bolt. On secondthoughts, however, I determined to feign sleep, and watch all thatpassed. 

Resistance on my part would have been utterly useless, and I wasanxious to find out if possible what connexion existed between myuncle, George Harrison, and this strange woman. 

All this darted through my mind on the instant; the rays of the candleflashed upon the opposite wall; and my uncle, followed by hisodious-looking companion, entered the room. 

My intention of watching all their movements was completely frustratedby Mr. Moncton, who, advancing with cautious steps to my bed-side, heldup the light in such a manner as not only to reveal my face, but theattitude in which I lay. 

"Is he sleeping?" he whispered to his companion. 

"He breathes like one in a profound slumber, " was the reply. "'Tis afine lad. How much he resembles Sir Alexander. "

"His father, rather, " sneered Moncton. "He's a second edition of Ned;but has got more brains. Thanks to his grandfather, Geoffrey, and hisown mother, who was a beautiful, talented creature. Stand by the bed, Dinah, and keep watch over him while I light that lamp which he hasleft on the window-sill, and search for the papers. "

The old woman took the light from Mr. Moncton's hand, and his stationbeside my bed. My too lively imagination pictured the witch-like face, with its dark, snaky eyes, bending over me, and I found it impossibleto maintain, with any appearance of reality, the composure I hadassumed. In order to conceal the excited state of my mind, and toconvince her of the certainty of my pretended slumber, I threw out myarms, and began to toss and turn, and mutter in my sleep, putting onall the contortions which generally convulse the countenance of personswhile writhing under the influence of some terrible dream. A state ofperfect quiescence might have aroused suspicion; the noise I madecompletely lulled theirs to sleep. 

Meanwhile my uncle had unlocked the chest, and I heard him toss thepapers it contained, upon the floor; while, from time to time, he gaveutterance to expressions indicative of vexation and disappointment. 

After examining the contents of the box thoroughly, and returning theparchments to their original place, he said in a mortified tone:

"The papers are not here. How they have been abstracted I cannotimagine, as I always keep the key in a private drawer of my cabinet, which is known only to myself. "

"Did you place them there yourself?" demanded the old woman, in ahurried whisper. 

"No, but Walters, in whom I placed the most implicit confidence, assured me that he placed them here with his own hands. He may, however, have destroyed them, and anticipated my wishes. "

"And you, with all your caution, " sneered Dinah North, "could trust anaffair of such importance to another. "

"He was my creature, sworn to secrecy, and bought with my money, whoseinterest was to serve, not to betray me. "

"A person who is capable of receiving a bribe to perform a base action, Moncton, is never to be trusted, especially a low-born fellow, likeWalters; and where, " she continued, anxiously, "is this man to befound?"

"He left twelve years ago for America, and took out with him, MichaelAlzure, my brother's old servant, and Mary Earl, the boy's nurse, whowere the only witnesses to the marriage. I wanted him to take the boyhimself, and adopt him into his own family, which would have saved usall further trouble, but this to my surprise he positively refused todo. "

"To what part of America did he emigrate?"

"First to Boston, where he remained for three years. He then removed toPhiladelphia from the latter place. I twice received letters from him. He had been successful in business, and talked of buying land in thewestern States; for the last six years I have never heard of him orfrom him. It is more than probable that he is long since dead. "

"People whom you wish out of the way, never die when you want them, "said Dinah, with her peculiar sneering laugh. "But I think you told methat the--" I could not catch the word which she breathed into the earof Mr. Moncton--"had been destroyed. "

"Yes--yes. I burnt it with my own hand; this was the only document ofany consequence, and it is a hundred chances to one, that he everrecovers it, or meets with the people who could prove his identity. "

My uncle rose from his knees and locked the iron chest, then, extinguishing my lamp, he and the old woman left the room. 

The sound of their retreating footsteps had scarcely died away, when, in spite of my wish to keep awake, I dropped off into a profound sleep, and did not again unclose my eyes until it was time to dress forbreakfast. 

CHAPTER XI. 

MY FIRST LOVE. 

I found my uncle sipping his coffee, as if nothing of importance hadoccurred during the night, to disturb his slumbers. I took my seat atthe table in silence. My heart was full to bursting, and I dared nottrust my voice, to offer him the common salutations of the morning. 

My face, I have no doubt, betrayed the agitation which I endeavoured toconceal. 

"You are late this morning, Geoffrey. "

"Yes, Sir--I passed a very restless night, and the result is a badheadache. "

"How did that happen?" surveying me attentively, with his clear, glittering eyes. 

"I was harassed by frightful dreams, and only awoke from one fit ofnightmare to fall into a worse. "

"Are you often troubled with bad dreams?" said he, without removing hispowerful gaze from my pale face. 

"Not often with such as disturbed me last night. "

I detected my uncle's drift in using this species of cross-questioning, and I determined to increase his uneasiness without betraying my own. 

"I wish, uncle, I had never seen that old woman who visited the officeyesterday; she haunted me all night like my evil genius. Sir MatthewHale might have condemned her for a witch, with a safe conscience. "

"She is not a very flattering specimen of the fair sex, " said my uncle, affecting a laugh, "but ugly as she now is, I remember her both youngand handsome. What was the purport of your dream?"

"That I should like to know. The Josephs and Daniels of thesedegenerate modern days, are makers of money, not interpreters ofdreams. But, I hope you don't imagine that I place the least importanceon such things. My dream was simply this:

"I dreamed that that ugly old woman, whom you call Dinah North, came tomy bedside with an intent to murder me. " I paused, and fixed my eyesupon Mr. Moncton's face. The glitter of his bright orbs almost dazzledme. I thought, however, that his cheek paled for a moment, and that Icould perceive a slight twitching movement about the muscles of themouth. 

"Well, " said he, quite calmly, "and what then?"

"For a long time I resisted her efforts to stab me with a long knife, and I received several deep wounds in my hands, in endeavouring to wardoff her home-thrusts; till, faint with loss of blood, I gave up thecontest, and called aloud for aid. I heard steps in the passage--someone opened the door--it was you, Sir, and I begged you to save my life, and unloosen the fiend's grasp from my throat, but instead of theassistance I expected, you seized the knife from the old woman's hand, and with a derisive laugh, plunged it to the hilt in my heart. I awokewith a scream of agony, and with the perspiration streaming from everypart of my body. "

The dream was no invention of the moment, but had actually occurred, after Dinah North and Mr. Moncton had left my chamber. I wished to seewhat impression it would make upon him. 

He leaned back in his chair with his eyes still fixed on my face. "Itwas strange, very strange--enough to excite a nervous, irritable fellowlike you. Did you hear me come into your room last night?"

Taken by surprise, I gave an involuntary start, but regained mypresence of mind in a moment. "Did you suspect, sir, that I was in thehabit of leaving the house at night, that you thought it necessary toascertain that I was in my bed?"

"Petulant boy! How ready you are to take offence at trifles. How do youexpect to steer your way through the world? Business brought me intoyour room last night. Some papers belonging to the woman, whom yourfertile imagination has converted into a witch or fiend, were in theiron chest. Anxious to satisfy her that the papers were safe, I went tolook for them. You were making a sad noise in your sleep. I was halfinclined to waken you, but thought that my presence in your chamber atthat hour of the night would only increase your uneasiness. The soundof my steps in the passage, I have no doubt, was the immediate cause ofyour dream. "

This was a masterly stroke, and those who knew Robert Moncton in amoment would recognize the man. The adroitness with which he mingledtruth with falsehood, almost made me doubt the evidence of my senses, and to fancy that the events of the past night were a mental delusion. 

"Did you find the papers you wanted, Sir?"

His eye flashed, and his lip curled. "What business is that of yours, Sir? I don't allow an impertinent boy to pry into my private affairs. "

"My question was one of idle curiosity. "

"Even as such, never dare to repeat it. "

I was struck dumb, and concluded my breakfast without speaking to himagain. When the tea equipage was removed, I rose to leave the room, buthe motioned me to remain. 

His anger had passed away, and his really handsome face wore a moreagreeable expression than usual. 

"Sit down, Geoffrey. I have long wished to converse with you upon yourfuture prospects. What progress have you made in your profession?"

Astonished at his condescension, I told him candidly how I had of lateimproved my time, and studied late and early to acquire a competentknowledge of it in all its branches. 

He was surprised, and appeared agreeably so. 

"I had no idea of this, Geoffrey. Your industry has won for you ahigher position than an office drudge. You cannot, however, make anable lawyer, without some knowledge of the world. To make a man of youit is absolutely necessary for you to go more into society. "

"You forget, Sir, that I have no means to indulge such a wish. I cannotconsent to go into company under existing circumstances. "

"Oh, we can manage all that, " said he, tapping me on my shoulder. "Beobedient to my orders, and attend to my interest, and you shall notlong want the means of gratifying your wishes. Mr. Harrison has leftthe office. It is my intention that you supply his place. 

"Harrison gone!" cried I in a tone of vexation and regret; "then I havelost my best friend. "

"Harrison was a clever, gentlemanly young man, " said Mr. Moncton, coldly; "but, to tell you the plain truth, Geoffrey, I did not like theclose intimacy which existed between you. "

"Why, it is to him that I am indebted for all the knowledge I haveacquired. His society was the only pleasure I had, and it seems hard tobe deprived of it, without any fault on his side. "

"Geoffrey, it is of no consequence to me what your opinion may be onthe subject; I am master of my own actions, and please myself as towhom I retain or employ. Clear up that scowling brow, and be verythankful to obtain a handsome salary for services which I can commandwithout remuneration. "

The loss of my friend, my only friend, was a dreadful blow. I was toomuch overcome to thank my uncle for his offer, and left the room. 

I had been so little accustomed to think for myself, that I relied uponGeorge as my counsellor in all matters of importance. Besides, I had anidea that he could throw some light upon the mysterious events of thenight, and I was anxious to unburden to him the important secret. 

Having to obtain the signature of a gentleman who resided in FleetStreet, to some legal documents, and knowing that Harrison lodged inthe same street, I snatched up my hat and sallied forth, determined toconsult him with regard to the change in my prospects, as I feltcertain, that some sinister motive was concealed beneath my uncle'sunlooked-for condescension. 

I was again doomed to disappointment. On reaching Harrison's lodgings, I learned that he had left town that morning, for a visit of some weeksinto the country, but to what part his landlady did not know. Atparting, he told her she might let his rooms until he gave her noticeof his return. 

"Gone! without seeing or writing one line to inform me of hisdeparture. That is not like his general conduct, " I muttered, as Iturned from the door. 

With a heavy heart, I sauntered on, almost unconscious of the path Ihad taken, until I found myself entangled among the crowds whichthronged Oxford Street. 

A scream, echoed by several voices from the crowd, "that the lady wouldbe crushed to death!" startled me from my unprofitable musings; andfollowing the direction of the general gaze, I saw that a young female, in attempting to cross the street, had just fallen between the horsesof two carriages advancing in opposite directions. 

It was but the impulse of the moment to dash across the interveningspace, and hinder the young lady from being trampled to death beneaththe horses' hoofs. She fortunately was unconscious of her danger, andcould not by useless screams and struggles frighten the horses, andfrustrate my endeavours to save her. 

The coachmen belonging to the vehicles, succeeded in stopping thehorses, and I bore my insensible burden through the crowd to anapothecary's shop, which happened to be near at hand. The gentleman inattendance hastened to my assistance. We placed the young lady in achair, and he told me to remove her bonnet, while he appliedrestoratives to her wrists and temples. 

She was exceedingly fair; her rich, black, velvet pelisse, setting offto great advantage the dazzling whiteness of her skin, and the richcolouring of her sunny brown hair. 

My heart throbbed beneath the lovely head that rested so placidly aboveit; and the arm that supported her graceful form, trembled violently. The glorious ideal of my youthful fancy had assumed a tangible form, had become a bright reality; and as I looked down upon that calm, gentle face, I felt that I loved for the first time. A new spirit hadpassed into me, I was only alive to the delicious rapture that thrilledthrough me. 

First passion is instantaneous--electrical. It cannot be described, andcan only be communicated through the same mysterious medium. 

People may rave as they like about the absurdity of love at firstsight; but the young and sensitive always love at first sight, and thelove of after-years, however better and more wisely bestowed, is neverable to obliterate from the heart the memory of those sudden and vividimpressions made upon it by the first electrical shocks of love. 

How eagerly I watched the unclosing of those blue eyes; yet, howtimidly I shrunk from their first mild rays. 

Blushing, she disengaged herself from my arms, and shaking the long, sunny ringlets from her face, thanked me with gentle reserve for theservice I had rendered. 

"But for your prompt assistance, I must have lost my life, or at thevery least been seriously injured. My poor thanks will never convey toyou the deep gratitude I feel. "

She gave me her hand with a charming frankness, and I touched the whiteslender fingers with as much reverence as if she had been a saint. 

At this moment, we were joined by a handsome elderly lady, who ran intothe shop, exclaiming in hurried tones:

"Where is she?--where is my child? Is she safe?"

"Yes, dear aunt, thanks to this gentleman's timely aid, who risked hisown life to save mine. "

"How shall we thank you--how shall we thank you, Sir?" exclaimed theelderly lady, seizing my hand, and all but embracing me in an ecstacyof gratitude. "You have rendered me a great service--a great serviceindeed. Without that dear girl, life would be a blank to me. My Kate, my Kate!" she cried, clasping the young lady in her arms, and burstinginto tears, "you don't know how dreadfully I felt when I saw you underthe hoofs of those horses. My child! my child I--I can hardly yetbelieve that you are safe. "

The charming Kate tenderly kissed her weeping relative, and assured herthat she could realize it all--that she must not fret, for she wasquite herself again--not even hurt; only frightened a little. 

And then she turned her lovely face to me, on which a tear rested, likea dew-drop upon the heart of a rose, with such a sweet, arch smile, asshe said, "My aunt is very nervous, and is so fond of me that her fearsfor my safety have quite upset her. The sooner we get her home thebetter. Will you be so kind, Sir, as to tell me if a carriage is at thedoor. Ours is blue, with white horses. "

The carriage was there. How I wished it at Jericho. The old lady againrepeated her thanks in the warmest manner, and I assisted her and hercharming niece into the equipage. The young lady waved her hand andsmiled, the powdered footman closed the door, and they drove off, leaving me spell-bound, rooted to the door-sill of the shop. 

"Who are those ladies?" asked the apothecary, looking complacently downupon the sovereign the elder lady had slipped into his hand. 

"I was just going to ask that question of you, " said I. 

"How! not know them--and let them go away without inquiring theirnames! Arn't you a simple young fellow? If it had been me now, I shouldhave done my best to improve such a golden opportunity. Gratitude youknow begets love, and I'll be sworn that the pretty young woman has agood fortune, by the anxiety the old one felt in her behalf. "

I was in the maddest heroics of love. "What do I care about herproperty, " said I disdainfully. "Such a beautiful, elegant creature isa fortune in herself. "

"Yes--to those who have enough of their own. But my dear young sir, beauty won't boil the pot. "

To joke me at the expense of the beautiful unknown was sacrilege, andcasting upon my tormentor, a look of unmitigated contempt, I left theshop with a lofty step, and an air of offended dignity. 

As I passed into the street, I fancied that the term "ridiculouspuppy!" was hissed after me. 

I strode back into the shop. The apothecary was waiting upon a newcustomer. 

"Was that insult intended for me?" I demanded, in a haughty tone. 

"What did I say, Sir?"

"You called me a ridiculous puppy, " said I. 

"You are mistaken, young man. I am not in the habit of speaking mythoughts aloud. "

I deserved this cut for my folly, and felt keenly that I had placedmyself in an absurd position. 

"My uncle is right, " said I, to myself, as I retraced my steps toHatton Garden. "I am a babe in my knowledge of the world. I must gomore into society, or I shall for ever be getting into such ridiculousscrapes. "

At dinner my uncle met me with a serious face. 

"What kept you from the office, Geoffrey, this morning?"

I, willing to act openly with him, narrated to him the adventure I hadmet with. 

"I think I know the lady, " said he. "She is not very tall--is faircomplexioned, with blue eyes and light brown hair. _Rather_ prettythan otherwise. "

"_Rather_ pretty. She is _beautiful_, Sir. "

"Phew!" said Mr. Moncton. "_We_ see with other eyes. Young men arealways blind. The girl is well enough--and better still, she is veryrich. Did she tell you her name?"

"I did not ask her. "

"Where was your curiosity?"

"I wished very much to put the question, for I was anxious to know; butreally, uncle, I had not the face to do it. But you can tell me. "

"If she did not tell you herself, I am not going to betray her secret. What use would the knowledge be to you?"

"It would be pleasant to know her name. "

My uncle looked hard at me; and something like a sarcastic smile passedover his lips. 

"Boy, it would render you miserable. "

"In what way?"

"By leading you to neglect business, and by filling your head withhopes which could never be realized. "

"And why not?" I demanded, rather fiercely. 

"Young ladies in our days seldom commit matrimony with pennilessclerks. "

This was said with a strong sneer. 

"It may be so--and they are right not to involve themselves in misery. I am penniless at present. But that is no reason that I am always toremain so. I am young, healthy, industrious, with a mind willing andable to work--why should I not make a fortune as others have done? Asmy grandfather, for instance, did before me?"

"This is all true, " said he, calmly, "and I admire your spirit, Geoffrey; but, nephew" (this was the first time I ever remember hiscalling me so), "there are other difficulties in the way of your makinga high and wealthy alliance, of which you have no idea. "

I know not why--but a sudden tremor seized me as he said this. Butmastering my agitation, I begged him to explain his meaning. 

"I have long wished to do so, " said he, "but you were so violent andunreasonable, that I thought it prudent to defer unpleasantcommunications until you were older, and better able to take thingscalmly. You have thought me a hard task-master, Geoffrey--a cruelunfeeling tyrant, and from your earliest childhood have defied myauthority and resisted my will; yet you know not half the debt ofkindness you owe to me. "

I was about to speak. He held up his hand for me to maintain silence;which I did with a very bad grace; and he continued in the same coldmethodical way--

"Children are naturally averse to control, and are unable to discernbetween sternness of manner, and a cold unfeeling hardness of heart;and construe into insults and injuries the necessary restraint imposedupon their actions for their good. Yours, I admit, was a painfulsituation, which you rendered still more unpleasant by your obstinateand resentful disposition. "

"But, uncle!" I exclaimed, unable longer to hold my tongue, "you know Iwas treated very ill. "

"Who treated you so? I am very certain, that Rebecca indulged you, asshe never did one of her own children. "

"My dear aunt! God bless her! she was the only creature in the housewho treated me with the least kindness. The very servants wereinstructed to slight and insult me by your _amiable_ son, and hisservile tutor. "

"He was a fool, " said Mr. Moncton, refilling his glass. "As toTheophilus, it was natural for him to dislike the lad who had robbedhim of his mother's affections, and who left him behind in his lessons. You were strong enough, and bold enough to take your own part, and if Imistake not, did take it. And pray, Sir, who was it that freed you fromthe tyranny of Mr. Jones, when he found that the complaints you broughtagainst him were just?"

"But not until after I had been first condemned, and brutallymaltreated. The less said on that score, uncle, the better. "

He laughed--his low, sarcastic, sneering laugh, but did not choose tobe angry. 

"There are circumstances connected with your birth, Geoffrey, thatevidently were the cause of these slights. People will not pay the samerespect to a natural child, which they do to a legitimate one. "

"Good God!" I exclaimed, starting from my chair. "You don't mean toinsinuate--you dare not say, that I am a bastard?"

"Such is the fact. "

"It is a falsehood! invented to ruin me!" I exclaimed, defiantly. "Oneof these days you shall be forced to prove it such. "

"I shall be very happy to do so--if you will only give me the proofs. "

"_Proofs!_" I exclaimed, bitterly, "they are in your own possession--oryou have destroyed them!"

"What interest can I have in trying to make you a bastard? Is the boymad?"

"You never act without a motive, " I cried; "you know that I am heir toa title, and property that you covet for yourself and your son!"

His pretended calmness was all gone. His pale face crimsoned with rage. Yet it was wonderful how instantaneously he mastered his passion. 

"Who told you this _probable_ story? Who put such absurd notions intoyour head?"

"One, upon whose word I can rely. My friend, Mr. Harrison. "

"I would like to ask Mr. Harrison what he knows of our family affairs, "sneered Mr. Moncton. "He has proved himself a scoundrel by inventingthis pretty little romance to get up a quarrel between us, and rob youof the only real friend you have. I will repay Mr. Harrison for thisbase falsehood, one of these days. "

I felt that I had, betrayed my friend, and perhaps by my foolishrashness marred my own fortunes. Inwardly I cursed my imprudence, andloaded myself with reproaches. Then the thought suggested itself, "Could my uncle be right--was I indeed illegitimate?"

"No, no, " I exclaimed, unconsciously aloud; "it is not true--I feelthat it is false. A base falsehood got up to rob me of my goodname--the only treasure left me by Providence when she deprived me ofmy parents. Uncle, " I exclaimed, standing erect before him, "I willnever part with it. I will maintain my equality with you and your sonto the last moment of my life. "

Overcome by excitement and agitation, I sank down into a chair, my headdropped upon the table and I sobbed convulsively. 

"Geoffrey, " said my uncle, in a low voice, in which an unusual touch ofkindness mingled, "calm down this furious passion. Poor lad! I pity andexcuse your indignation; both are natural in your case. "

"Such sympathy is worse than hate, " I muttered. 

"Well, believe me the author of all your wrongs, if it pleases you, Geoffrey; but first listen to what I have to say. "

I was too much exhausted by the violence of my emotions to offer theleast opposition, and he had it entirely his own way--commencing hisremarks with a provoking coolness which cut me to the heart. 

"When you lost your parents, Geoffrey, you were too young to haveformed a correct estimate of their characters. "

"I have a very indistinct recollection of my father. I remember mymother well. "

"You may imagine that. Your father had a fine, manly face, and naturehad endowed him with those useless but brilliant qualities of mind, which the world calls genius, and like many of the same class, he actedmore from impulse than from principle. Your mother was a beautifulyoung woman, but with little discretion, who loved unwisely and toowell. Her father saw enough of my brother Edward's character, to awakenhis suspicions that his attentions to his daughter were not of anhonourable nature, and he forbade him the house. 

"This impolitic step brought matters to a crisis. The young peopleeloped together, and the old man died of a broken heart. Your motherwent by the name of Moncton, and was introduced to his sporting friendsas my brother's wife. But no evidence exists of a marriage having takenplace; and until such evidence can be procured, the world will lookupon you as illegitimate. 

"You will soon be of age, Geoffrey, and if you are prepared with theseindispensable documents, I will assist, to the best of my professionalabilities, in helping you to establish your claims. It is not in mypower to destroy or invalidate them. Why then these basesuspicions--these unmerited reproaches--these hurricanes of passion?Why doubt my integrity at the very moment when I am most anxious toserve you?"

"Because in no instance have you ever proved yourself my friend, and Icannot help doubting your sincerity!"

"A want of candour is certainly not among your failings, " said Mr. Moncton, with a slight curl of his proud lip. "You have studied the lawlong enough to know the impolicy of such conduct. "

"I judge, not from fair words but deeds. Sir, the change in yourbehaviour to me is too sudden for me to believe it genuine. "

"Strange, " mused Mr. Moncton, "so young and so suspicious!" thenturning to me, he said, without the least appearance of resentment atmy violence, "Geoffrey, I know your faulty temper, and forgive you for using suchinsulting language. The communication I have just made was enough toirritate your sensitive nature and mortify your pride; but it is notreasonable that your anger should be directed against me. I consideredit absolutely necessary, to apprise you of these important facts, andconveyed the knowledge of them to you, as gently as I could, just toshow you that you must depend upon your own exertions to advance yourposition in society. "

"If your statement be true, what have I to do with society?" said I. "What position could I obtain in a world which already regards me as anoutcast?"

"Not here, perhaps. But there are other countries, where theconventional rules which govern society in this, are regarded withindifference--_America_, for instance. "

He fixed his keen eye upon me. An electric flash passed into my mind. Isaw his drift. I recollected Harrison's advice that the only way toobtain my rights and baffle my uncle's cunning, was _non-resistance_. I formed my plans in a moment, and determined to foil his schemes, byappearing to countenance them, until I could arrive at the truth, andfathom his designs--and I answered with composure. 

"Perhaps, I have done you injustice, Sir. The distracted state of mymind must be my excuse. I will try and submit with patience to my hardfate. "

"It is your only wise course. Hark you, Geoffrey! I am rich, trust inme, and the world shall never sneer at you as a _poor relation_. Thosewhom Robert Moncton takes by the hand may laugh at doubtful birth andwant of fortune. "

The scoundrel! how I longed to knock him down, but that would have doneme no good, so I mastered my indignation and withdrew. 

CHAPTER XII. 

I FORFEIT MY INDEPENDENCE. 

"Be ye wise as serpents, and harmless as doves, " was the advice of theDivine Lawgiver, when he sent his disciples forth on their heavenlymission to reform an evil world. 

Religion, as I have before stated, had formed no part in my education. I had read the sacred volume with fear and trembling, and derived noconsolation from its mystic pages. I had adopted the fatal idea, that Iwas one of those pre-condemned beings, for whom the blackness ofdarkness was reserved for ever, and that no effort on my part couldavert the terrible decree. 

This shocking and blasphemous belief had taken such deep hold of mymind, that looked upon all religious exercises as perfectly useless. Icould not fancy myself one of the elect, and so went from that extremeto the other. If I were to be saved, I should be saved; if a vessel ofwrath, only fitted for destruction, it was folly to struggle againstfate, and I never suffered my mind to dwell upon the subject. In themultitude of sorrows which pressed sorely on my young heart, I morethan ever stood in need of the advice and consolation which theChristian religion can alone bestow. 

I left the presence of my uncle, and sought my own chamber. The lonelygarret did not appear so repulsive as usual. No one would disturb itsgloomy solitude, or intrude upon my grief. There I had free liberty toweep--to vent aloud, if I pleased, the indignant feelings of my heart. My mind was overwhelmed with bitter and resentful thoughts; every evilpassion was struggling for mastery, and the worst agony I was calledupon to endure, was the hopeless, heart-crushing, downward tendingmadness of despair. 

To die--to get rid of self, the dark consciousness of unmeritedcontempt and social degradation, was the temptation which continuallyflitted through my excited brain. I have often since wondered how Iresisted the strong impulse which lured me onward to destruction. 

My good angel prevailed. By mere accident, my Bible lay upon the ironchest. I eagerly seized the volume, and sought in the first page Ishould open, an omen that should decide my fate, and my eye glancedupon the words already quoted--"Be ye, therefore, wise as serpents, andharmless as doves. "

I closed the book and sat down, and tried to shape the words to suit mypresent state. What better advice could I follow? from what higherauthority could I derive sounder counsel? Did it not suit completely mycase?

Harrison had disappeared. I was alone and friendless in the house ofthe oppressor. Did I follow the suggestions of my own heart, I shouldeither destroy myself, or quit the protection of Mr. Moncton's roof forever. 

"But then, " said reason, "if you take the first step, you are guilty ofan unpardonable sin, and by destroying yourself, further the sinisterviews of your uncle. If the second, you throw away seven years of hardlabour, lose your indentures, and for ever place a bar on your futureadvancement. In a few months you will be of age, and your own master. Bear these evils patiently a little longer--wait and watch: you nevercan regain your lost name and inheritance by throwing yourselffriendless upon the world. "

Determined to adopt, and strictly to adhere to this line of conduct, and leave the rest to Providence, I washed the traces of tears from myface and returned to the private office. 

Here I found Mr. Moncton engaged with papers of consequence. 

He held out his hand as I took my seat at the desk. "Are we friends, Geoffrey?"

"That depends upon circumstances" said I. 

"How hard it is for you to give a gracious answer, " he replied. "It isyour own fault that we ever were otherwise. "

"I will try and think you my friend for the time to come. "

He seemed more amused than surprised at this concession, and for sometime we both wrote on in silence. 

A tap at the door, and one of the clerks handed in a letter. 

Mr. Moncton examined the post-mark and eagerly opened it up. Whilereading, his countenance underwent one of those remarkable changes Ihad on several occasions witnessed of late, and which seemed so foreignto his nature. 

Suddenly crushing the letter tightly in his hand, he flung it from himto the floor, and spurned it with his foot, exclaiming as he did so, with a fiend-like curl of the lip: "So would I serve the writer were hehere!" Then turning to me, and speaking in a low confidential tone, hesaid:

"The writer of that letter is unconsciously making your fortune, Geoffrey. This son of mine has acted in a base, ungrateful manner tome--in a manner which I can never forget or forgive. If you conductyourself prudently, you may become dearer to me than this wicked youngman. "

"I should be sorry to rise on my cousin's ruin. I would rather gainyour respect on any other terms. "

This remark made him wince. 

"Foolish boy! How blind you are to your own interest. You belong to afamily famous for playing the fool. It runs in the blood of theMonctons. "

Starting from his seat, he paced the room for some minutes, as if indeep communion with himself. 

"Geoffrey, " said he at last, "from this day I adopt you as my son. Iexempt you from the common drudgeries of the office, and will engagemasters to instruct you in the fashionable accomplishments which aredeemed necessary to complete the education of a gentleman. "

I was mute with astonishment. 

"Trifling as these things may appear to the man of science and thecandidate for literary honours, they are not without their use to theprofessional student. The world judges so much by externals, thatnothing is despised which helps to flatter its prejudices and ensurepopularity. You are not too old to learn dancing, fencing and riding. Ishould like you to excel in athletic sports and exercises. "

"You are making game of me, uncle, " said I, for I could not believe himin earnest. 

"By the living God! Geoffrey, I mean what I say. "

I stood before him, gazing into his face like one in a dream. There wasa downright earnestness in his face which could not be mistaken. He wasno longer acting a part, but really meant what he said. Nor could Idoubt but that letter had wrought this sudden change in my favour. Where, now, was all my high-souled resolutions? Human nature prevailed, and I yielded to the temptation. There sat Robert Moncton, gazingcomplacently upon me, from beneath those stern, dark brows, hisglittering eyes no longer freezing me with their icy shine, butregarding me with a calm, approving smile: no longer the evil genius ofmy childhood, but a munificent spirit intent to do me good. 

Ah, I was young--very young, and the world in my narrow circle haddealt hardly with me. I longed for freedom, for emancipation fromconstant toil. This must plead an excuse for my criminal weakness. 

Years of painful experience, in the ways and wiles of men, had not asyet perfected the painful lesson taught me in after-years. Young, ardent, and willing to believe the best I could of my species, I beganto think that I alone had been to blame; that I had wronged my uncle, and thrust upon his shoulders the burden of injuries which I hadreceived from his son. 

The evil influence of that son had been removed, and he was now willingto be my friend; and I determined to bury the past in oblivion, and tobelieve him really and truly so. 

I shook him warmly by the hand, and entreated his forgiveness for thehard thoughts I had entertained, and thanked him sincerely for hisoffers of service. 

The light faded from his eye. He looked gloomily, almost sadly into myface, glowing, as it must have been, with generous emotions, marvellingdoubtlessly at my credulity. 

Mr. Moncton up to this period had resided in the house which containedhis office; the basement having been appropriated entirely for thatpurpose, while the family occupied the floors above. My uncle seldomreceived visitors, excepting at those times when Theophilus returnedfrom college. To these parties, I as a matter of course had never beenadmitted. My uncle's evenings were spent abroad, but I was unacquaintedwith his habits, and totally ignorant of his haunts. 

Judge then, of my surprise and satisfaction when informed by Mr. Moncton, that he had purchased a handsome house in Grosvenor Street, and that we were to remove thither. The office was still to be retainedin Hatton Garden, but my hours of attendance were not to commencebefore ten in the morning; and were to terminate at four in theafternoon. 

I had lived the larger portion of my life in great, smoky London, andhad never visited the west end of the town. The change in my prospectswas truly delightful. I was transported as if by magic from my low, dingy, ill-ventilated garret, to a well-appointed room on the secondstory of an elegantly furnished house in an airy, fashionable part ofthe town; the apartment provided for my especial benefit, containingall the luxuries and comforts which modern refinement has renderedindispensable. 

A small, but well-selected library crowned the whole. 

I did little else the first day my uncle introduced me to this charmingroom, but to walk to and fro from the book-case to the windows; nowglancing at the pages of some long coveted treasure; now watching withintense interest the throng of carriages passing and repassing; hopingto catch a glance of the fair face, which had made such an impressionon my youthful fancy. 

A note from Mr. Moncton, kindly worded for him, conveyed to me thepleasing intelligence that the handsome pressful of fine linen, andfashionably cut clothes, was meant for my use; to which he hadgenerously added, a beautiful dressing-case, gold watch and chain. 

I should have been perfectly happy, had it not been for a vague, unpleasant sensation--a certain swelling of the heart, which silentlyseemed to reproach me for accepting all these favours from a personwhom I neither loved nor respected. 

Conscience whispered that it was far better to remain poor andindependent, than compromise my integrity. Oh, that I had given moreheed to that voice of the soul! That still, small voice, which neverlies--that voice which no one can drown, without remorse andself-condemnation. 

Time brought with it the punishment I deserved, convincing me then, andfor ever, that no one can act against his own conviction of right, without incurring the penalty due to his moral defalcation. 

I dined alone with Mr. Moncton. 

He asked me if I was pleased with the apartments he had selected for myuse. I was warm in my thanks, and he appeared satisfied. 

After the cloth was drawn, he filled a bumper of wine, and pushed thebottle over to me. 

"Here's to your rising to the head of the profession, Geoffrey. Fillyour glass, my boy. "

I drank part of the wine, and set the glass down on the table. It wasfine old Madeira. I had not been used to drink anything stronger thantea and coffee, and I found it mounting to my head. 

"I will not allow that, Geoffrey--you must honour my toast. "

"I have done so, uncle, as far as I am able. I have had enough wine. "

"Nonsense, boy! Don't you like it?"

"I hardly know. It makes me feel giddy and queer. "

"Ha! ha! that's good"--chuckling and rubbing his hands. 

"If I take more just now, I shall certainly be tipsy. "

"What then?"

"It would be disgraceful. In your presence, too. "

"What--were you never drunk?"

"Never, in my life. "

"How old are you?"

"Twenty. "

"And never intoxicated--well, that's a good joke. Few young men of yourage could say that. Would you not like to increase your knowledge, andbe as wise as others?"

I shook my head. 

"Ridiculous prudery. Come, fill your glass. "

He drank off several glasses in succession; and for fear I should bethought deficient in spirit; I followed his example. But the Rubicononce crossed, to my surprise, I found that the wine had no effect uponmy senses; only serving to elevate my spirits a little, and make memore sociable and communicative. 

My uncle's stern face began to relax from its usual cold severity, andI found that when warmed with wine, he could be a most intelligent andagreeable companion. After conversing for some time on indifferentsubjects, he said:

"You think you remember your parents. I have their portraits. Perhapsyou would like to keep them in your own possession. "

"No present you could make me, would be so valuable, " I replied. 

"No heroics, " he said, going to a beautiful inlaid cabinet. "I detestsentimental people. They are the greatest humbugs in the world. "

Returning to the table, he placed two large miniature cases in my hand. I eagerly seized them. 

"Don't look at them now, " he resumed, "or we shall have a scene--waituntil you are alone. I found them among my brother's papers, and hadforgotten all about them, until I chanced to stumble over them in thebustle of removing. "

I hid away the precious relics in my bosom, and was about to quit theroom. 

"Sit down, Geoffrey, " he said, with a grim smile, "you are too sober togo to bed yet. "

I filled the glass mechanically, but it remained untasted before me. 

"By the by, " continued my uncle, in a careless tone, which his eagerglance contradicted, "what has become of your friend Harrison?"

"I wish I knew. His absence is a great loss to me. "

"Who and what is this Harrison? You were his confidant, and, doubtless, know. "

"Of his private history, nothing. "

My uncle's large dark eyes were looking into my soul. I felt that hedoubted my word. "He has, I believe, been unfortunate, and is reducedin his circumstances. His moral character, _I know_ to be excellent. "

"And doubtless you are a _capital judge_, " said Mr. Moncton. "Young menall imagine themselves as wise as Daniel or Socrates. I think, however, friend Geoffrey, that this man deceived you. "

"Impossible! Harrison is incapable of committing a mean ordishonourable action. Nor does he attempt to spare himself from blame;but frankly confesses, that to his own imprudence he is mainly indebtedfor his misfortunes. "

"_Imprudence_ is a respectable term for intemperance, dissipation, andvice of every kind, " sneered my uncle. "Your moral young gentlemanmight preach against sins which had caused his own ruin. Believe me, Geoffrey, the crimes and passions of most men are alike, with only thisdifference, that some have greater art in concealing them. "

"That would make virtue a mere name, " said I, indignantly. "I cannotbelieve _that_ ideal, which I have been used to worship as a_reality_. "

"All bosh. At your age men cling to the ideal, and resolutely closetheir eyes to the true and rational. I was guilty of the same weaknessonce. "

"You, uncle!"

"Ay, you are astonished. But the time came, and too soon, when Ilearned to wonder at my own credulity. I was in love once. You smile. Yes, with that old witch, as you call her now. She was as beautiful asan angel then. She is an incarnate devil now! Love has turned tohate--admiration to execration--and I curse myself for ever havingthought her wise or good. "

He flung himself into a chair, and groaned like one in acute pain; andI, thinking he wished to be alone, slipped away before he raised hishead from between his clasped hands. 

"What could he mean by asking me so many questions?" I cried, as Ithrew myself into an easy chair in my luxurious apartment. "Were theyinstigated by the wine he had drank, or suggested by idle curiosity? orwere my answers intended to answer some sinister purpose? God knows! Heis a strange, inexplicable man, whose words and actions the mostprofound lawyer could scarcely fathom. I think he endeavoured to makeme intoxicated in the hope of extracting some information regardingpoor George. If so, he has missed his mark. "

I drew from my bosom the portraits he had given me, perhaps, as a baitto win my confidence; but I was thankful to him for the inestimablegift, whatever the motives were which led to its bestowal. 

The first case contained the miniature of my father. The gay, careless, happy countenance, full of spirit and intelligence, seemed to smileupon his unfortunate son. 

I raised my eyes to the mirror--the same features met my glance: butah, how different the expression of the two faces. Mine was saddenedand paled by early care, and close confinement to a dark unhealthyoffice; at twenty, I was but a faded likeness of my father. 

I sighed as I pressed the portrait to my heart. In the markeddifference between us I read distinctly the history of two lives. 

But how shall I describe my feelings whilst gazing on the picture of mymother? The fast falling tears for a long while hid the fondlyremembered features from my sight; but they still floated before theeyes of my soul in all their original loveliness. 

Yes, there was the sweet calm face, the large soft confiding blue eyes, the small rosy mouth with its gentle winning smile, and the modesttruthful expression of the combined features which gave such a charm tothe whole. 

Oh, my mother! my dear lost, angel mother! how that picture recalledthe far-off happy days of childhood, when I sat upon your knees, andsaw my own joyous face reflected in those dove-like eyes! when, endingsome nursery rhyme with a kiss, you bowed your velvet cheek upon myclustering curls, and bade God bless and keep your darling boy! Wouldthat I could become a child again, or that I could go to you, thoughyou cannot return to me!

I leant my head upon the table and wept. Those tears produced asalutary effect upon my mind, and slipping down upon my knees, I pouredout the feelings of my oppressed heart in prayer, and after awhile rosefrom the ground in a more composed state of mind. The picture still laythere smiling upon me. "Is it of you, dearest mother, " said I, "thatbad men dare whisper hard things? Who could look at that pure lovelyface and believe aught against your honour? I could despise my father, though his only son, could I for an instant imagine him capable oftaking advantage of such youth and innocence. But no, it is a foulslander invented by a villain to answer some base purpose; and may Iperish, when I believe it true!"

I locked the portraits carefully in my desk, and retired to bed. Thewine I had drank and the unusual excitement of my feelings for a longtime prevented sleep, and it was the dawn of day before I sank to rest. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

A VISIT FROM THE GREAT MAN OF THE FAMILY. 

From that day I became Mr. Moncton's factotum, his confidential clerk, and principal agent. In all matters that required prompt and skilfulmanagement, he invariably employed me. 

If he did not regard me with affection, for that was foreign to hisnature, he respected my abilities, and placed the greatest relianceon my principles. I attended him in most of his professional journeys, and was present in every court in which he had an important case. Ino sooner appeared with him in public than I became a person ofconsiderable consequence among his friends and acquaintances, andinvitations flowed in upon me from all quarters. One thing appearedvery certain, that the same persons who had despised the shabbily-dressedlawyer's clerk, no longer regarded me with cold eyes as a _poorrelation_, but were among the first to overwhelm me with civilities;and, for a while, I was intoxicated with the adulation I received fromthe world and its smooth-tongued votaries. 

Three months glided rapidly away, and every day added to myself-importance, and brought with it fresh opportunities of enlargingthe circle of my friends, and of acquiring a competent knowledge of theconventional rules of society. Though naturally fond of company, Ihated dissipation, and those low vices which many young men designateas pleasure, in the pursuit of which they too often degrade theirmental and physical powers. Mr. Moncton laughed at what he termed myaffectation of moral integrity, and tried by every art to seduce me tojoin in amusements, and visit scenes, from which my mind revolted; andhis own example served to strengthen my disgust. My resistance to suchtemptations I do not ascribe to any inherent virtue in me; but I haveoften observed in my subsequent journey through life, that young men, whose knowledge of the world has chiefly been confined to books, andwho have never mingled much with persons of their own age, are guardedfrom low vices by the romantic and beautiful ideal of life, which theyformed in solitude. The coarse reality is so shocking and degrading, sorepugnant to taste and good feeling, and all their preconceived notionsupon the subject, that they cannot indulge in it without remorse and apainful sense of degradation. This was so completely my case, that Ioften fled to solitude as a refuge from pleasures, so-called, which Icould not enjoy, and scenes in which I felt shame to be an actor. Perhaps I was mainly indebted to the passion I had conceived for thebeautiful Catherine, which acted as a secret talisman in securing mefrom the contaminating influences to which, in my new position, I wasoften exposed. In the hope of meeting again the fair creature whoseimage filled my soul, I had frequented theatres, operas, and mixed muchin society, but to no purpose; on this head I was still doomed tosuffer the most provoking disappointment. 

One evening, I returned late from the office in Hatton Garden; my unclewas from home, and a great press of business had detained me beyond theusual dinner-hour, which was at six. The porter had scarcely admittedme into the hall, when one of the footmen, with whom I was a greatfavourite, addressed me with an air of mystery which I thought highlyamusing, he seemed so anxious to impress me with the importance of thenews he had to communicate. 

"Mr. Geoffrey, Sir Alexander Moncton, my master's cousin, sir, is inthe dining-room, waiting to see you; and the dinner, sir, is waiting, too. I told him, sir, that we expected Mr. Moncton home this evening, and he bade his valet bring up his portmanteau from the hotel, and saidthat he would wait here till master returned. "

"Thank you, Saunders, for your information, " cried I, hurrying off tomy chamber to dress for dinner. 

I felt greatly excited at the prospect of the approaching interviewwith the great man of the family, who might prove a powerful friend tohis friendless relative. 

My uncle was from home, which would afford me an opportunity ofspeaking for myself. I was anxious to make a favourable impression onSir Alexander, and took an unusual degree of pains with my toilet. 

I joined Sir Alexander in the drawing-room, just as the footmanannounced that dinner was on the table. 

Sir Alexander received me, and my apologies for detention in theoffice, with a mighty good grace, shook me warmly by the hand, andaccompanied me into the dining-room, with the air of a man who wasdetermined not to be cheated out of his dinner, and anxious to make upfor lost time. 

I did the honours as well as I could; but not without committing sundryawkward blunders; greatly to the horror of Saunders, who with toe andelbow, gave me various silent hints upon the subject, as he glidednoiselessly to and fro. This only increased my confusion, but, fortunately, my worthy relative was too much engrossed with his dinner, to notice the trifling omissions, which poor Saunders considered ofsuch immense importance. 

I was greatly relieved when the cloth was removed; and the wine andglasses were placed upon the table, and Sir Alexander and I were leftalone to improve our acquaintance. 

He commenced the conversation by introducing the very subject uppermostin my mind. 

"Did I mistake you, young gentleman, or did you tell me, that you werea son of the late Edward Moncton?"

"His only son. "

"I was not aware of his marriage--still less that he left a son. It isstrange, that I should have been kept in ignorance of this importantfact. "

This was said half musingly. He then turned to me with a lively air. 

"Your father, young gentleman, deeply offended me. It was a foolishaffair; but it effectually severed the friendship of years. We repentof these things when it is too late. Had he been less violent, and lessobstinate, a reconciliation might have been brought about. As itwas--interested parties did their best to widen the breach. 

"Edward and I were school-fellows; and though little harmony existedbetween the elder branches of the family, we loved like brothers. Hewas a handsome, generous, high-spirited fellow, but rash andextravagant. While at school he was always in debt and difficulty, tothe great annoyance of his money-loving father, who looked upon me asthe aider and abettor in all his scrapes. We continued firm friendsuntil the night before he left college, when the quarrel, which I donot mean to particularize, took place; from which period we never met, and all correspondence ceased between us. I heard, that in after-years, he made a love connexion; but I never learned the particulars from anyone but your uncle Robert; and he did not inform me, that Edward hadleft a son--nor can I comprehend his motive for concealing the fact. "

Sir Alexander paused and looked earnestly in my face. I felt the bloodrush to my temples. 

"I do not doubt your veracity, young sir. You are too like the man Iloved so long and well, for me to question your origin. But are you_certain_ that you are Edward Moncton's _legitimate_ son?"

"I feel no doubt upon the subject; my heart tells me that I am hislawful representative; and I trust that heaven will one day enable meto substantiate my claims. " This was said with a vehemence that broughtthe tears into my eyes. 

"Does Robert Moncton admit them?"

"No. "

"On what grounds?"

"He affirms, that no certificate of my mother's marriage can be found, and without this important document, the law will not acknowledge me asEdward Moncton's legitimate son. "

"Or Alexander Moncton's heir, " replied the Baronet. "But I do not judgelike the rest of the world, young man, and dare to think and act formyself. This uncle of yours is a cunning man: I know him and his waysof old. I know how he fomented the quarrel between his brother and me, to gain his own ends; and this son of his--this Theophilus, is afinished scoundrel! It is mortifying to the pride of an Englishgentleman to acknowledge such men as his successors. "

The old man rose from his seat, and paced the room for some time insilence. He was so much occupied with his own reflections, that I hadleisure to examine his countenance minutely. 

A strong family likeness existed between him and my father, and uncleRobert; and as for me, I might have passed for his son. He had the samehigh forehead, aquiline nose, chestnut curling hair, and dark piercingeyes; but his face lacked the careless, frank, good-nature of myfather's, and was totally destitute of the subtle, stern demeanour ofmy uncle's. The expression was more simple, and less worldly thaneither. It was a thoughtful, intellectual, benevolent physiognomy, which excited feelings of confidence and affection, at first sight. While looking at him, I thought I had known and loved him for years. 

His tall commanding figure was slightly bent in the shoulders, and hishair was thickly sprinkled with grey; yet, his age could scarcely haveexceeded fifty. His complexion, unlike my handsome uncle's, was verypale, and an early acquaintance with grief might be traced in the lineswhich furrowed his ample white forehead. 

After a few turns through the room, he resumed his seat. 

"Mr. Geoffrey Moncton, " said he, grasping me warmly by the hand, "Iwish sincerely that you could prove your legitimacy. There is somethingabout you that pleases and interests me. If ever you stand in need ofassistance you may rely upon me as your friend. It is not RobertMoncton's bare assertion that will make me believe you a bastard. Tellme all you know about yourself. "

I endeavoured to speak, but I was so completely overwhelmed by hisunexpected kindness, that I could find no words to express my thanks, or comply with his request. 

A loud knocking at the door, announced the arrival of Mr. Moncton. 

"That is my uncle's knock, " cried I, breaking the spell that bound me. 

"We will talk over this matter again, Geoffrey. If we cannot get anopportunity, you must write, and tell me all you know. "

Before I could promise anything Mr. Moncton entered the room. He cast ahurried, scrutinizing glance at me, and seemed surprised and annoyed atfinding me on such intimate terms with the baronet, to whom he gave amost cordial and flattering welcome. 

The other met his advances with cold and studied politeness. It wasevident to me that he, too, put a restraint upon his feelings. 

"I am sorry, Sir Alexander, that I was from home when you arrived. Thisvisit _from you_ is such an _unexpected_ favour. "

"Your absence, Robert Moncton, gave me an opportunity of making theacquaintance of your nephew, whom I have found a very agreeable andentertaining substitute, as well as a near relation. "

Mr. Moncton regarded me with a haughty and contemptuous smile. 

"I am happy to learn that your time was so agreeably spent. By-the-by, Geoffrey, " turning abruptly to me, and speaking in a hasty, authoritative tone, "are those papers transcribed I gave you atparting? They will be required in court early to-morrow. "

He evidently expected a negative. 

"They are ready, sir, and many others that have been placed in my handssince. We have been hard at work in the office all day. "

"I commend your diligence, " said he, affecting a patronizing air; "I amsorry to take you from such pleasant company, but business, you know, cannot be neglected. This bundle of papers, " (and he took a packet fromhis wallet and placed in my hand), "must be transcribed to-night. Youneed not go to the office. Step into the study, you will find all thatyou require there. "

This was but a stratagem to get rid of my unwelcome presence. I bowedto Sir Alexander, and reluctantly withdrew. 

It so happened, that Mr. Moncton's study opened into the dining-room, and without meaning to do so, I left the door but partially closed. 

Sitting down to the table, I trimmed the large shaded lamp that alwaysburnt there, and began mechanically to transcribe the uninterestingpapers. An hour passed away. The gentlemen were conversing upon thecurrent news of the day over their wine. The servant brought up coffee, and I ceased to give any heed to what was passing in the next room. 

I was drawing out a long deed of settlement, when my attention wasaroused by the mention of my own name, and the following dialoguecaught my ear:

"This nephew of yours, Robert Moncton, is a fine lad. How is it that Inever heard of him before?"

"I did not think it necessary to introduce him to your notice, SirAlexander. He has no legal claim upon our protection. He is a naturalson of Edward's, whom I educate for the profession out of charity. "

"An act of benevolence hardly to be expected from you, " said SirAlexander with a provoking sneer. "I suppose you expect to get theinterest for your kindness out of the lad?"

"Why, yes! He has excellent abilities, and might do much for himself, but is too like the father, but with this difference, Edward wasgood-natured and careless to a fault; this boy is haughty and petulant, with the unmanageable obstinacy and self-will of old Geoffrey. He isnot grateful for the many obligations he owes to me, and gives mefrequent cause to regret that I ever adopted him into my family. "

"When you are tired of him, " said Sir Alexander, carelessly, "you mayturn him over to me. I am sure I could make something of him. "

"You are not in earnest?" in a tone of surprise. 

"Never more so. "

A long silence ensued. My hand trembled with indignation. Was this Mr. Moncton's pretended friendship? I tried in vain to write. "It isuseless, " I said mentally. "The deed may go to the devil, and RobertMoncton along with it, for what I care, " and I flung the parchment fromme. "That man is an infamous liar! I will tell him so to his face. "

I was just about to burst into the room, when Sir Alexander resumed theconversation. 

"Who was this lad's mother?"

"A young person of the name of Rivers; the only daughter of a poorcurate, in Derbyshire. You know my brother's dissipated habits. Heenticed the girl from her peaceful home, and grief for her loss broughtthe old father to his grave. This boy was the sole fruit of theconnection. The parents were never married. "

"Is that a fact?"

"I have made every legal inquiry upon the subject; but, no proofs arein existence of such an union between the parties. "

"I can scarcely believe Edward guilty of such a villainous act!"

"Extravagant men of unsettled principles are not much troubled withqualms of conscience. On his death-bed Edward repented of this act, andrecommended the child to my especial care and protection. His letter, which I have by me, was couched in such moving terms, that I consideredmyself bound in duty to do what I could for the boy, as he was notanswerable for the fault of the parents. I took him home the day hismother was buried, and he has been an inmate of my house ever since. "

"When he is out of his time, what do you intend doing for him?"

"I have not yet determined; perhaps, associate him with myself in theoffice. There is, however, one stumbling-block in the way--the dislikewhich exists between him and Theophilus. "

"Ay, that might prove a formidable barrier to their mutual welfare. By-the-by, what has become of Theophilus?"

"He was travelling on the continent. His last letter is dated fromRome. He has been a great source of trouble and vexation to me, and isconstantly getting into scrapes by his gallantries, which you mustallow, Sir Alexander, is a family failing of the Monctons. "

"His conduct lately has been such, " said the baronet, in an angryvoice, "that it makes me blush that we bear the same name. It was tospeak to you on this painful subject that brought me to London. "

"I know the circumstance to which you allude, " said Mr. Moncton, in ahumble tone; "nor can I defend him; but, we must make allowances foryouth and indiscretion. We were young men ourselves once, SirAlexander. "

"Thank Heaven! bad as I might be, no poor girl could accuse me of beingthe cause of her ruin, " cried the baronet, striking his handemphatically upon the table. "But this young scoundrel! while a visitorbeneath my roof, and a solicitor for the hand of my daughter, outragedall feelings of honour and decency, by seducing this poor girl, on ourown estate, at our very doors. It was mean, wicked, dastardly--andwithout he marries his unhappy victim, he shall never enter my doorsagain. "

"_Marry!_" and Mr. Moncton hissed the words through his clenched teeth. "Let him dare to marry her, and the sole inheritance he gets from me, will be his father's curse!"

"Till he does this, and by so doing wipes off the infamous stain he hasbrought upon our house, I must consider both father and son asstrangers!"

"Please yourself, Sir Alexander. You will never by menace induce me togive my consent to this disgraceful marriage, " cried Moncton, stampingwith rage. 

There was another long pause. I heard Sir Alexander traversing theapartment with hasty strides. At length, stopping suddenly before hisexcited companion, he said; "Robert, you may be right. The wickedwoman, who sold her grandchild for money, was once in your service. Youbest know what relationship exists between your son and his beautifulvictim. "

A hollow laugh burst from Mr. Moncton's lips. 

"You possess a lively imagination, Sir Alexander. I did love thatwoman, though she was old enough then to have been my mother. It was aboy's rash, blind love; but I was too proud to make her my wife, andshe was too cunning and avaricious to be mine on any other terms. Yoursuspicions, on _that head_ at least, are erroneous. "

"Be that as it may, " said Sir Alexander, "Theophilus Moncton shallnever darken my doors until the grave closes over me. "

He left the room while speaking. A few minutes later, a carriage dashedfrom the door at a rapid rate, and I felt certain that he had quittedthe house. My uncle's step approached. I let my head drop upon thetable and feigned sleep, and without attempting to waken me, hewithdrew. 

From that night a marked alteration took place in his manner towardsme. It was evident that the commendations bestowed upon me by SirAlexander had ruined me in his eyes, and he considered me in the lightof a formidable rival. He withdrew his confidence, and treated me withthe most pointed neglect. But he could not well banish me from histable, or deprive me of the standing he had given me among his guests, without insulting them, by having introduced to their notice a personunworthy of it. On this head I was tolerably secure, as Mr. Moncton wastoo artful a man to criminate himself. In a few days, I should nowbecome of age, when the term of my articles would expire. I should thenbe my own master; and several private applications had been made to meby a lawyer of eminence, to accept a place in his office, with promisesof further advancement; this rendered my uncle's conduct a matter ofindifference. The sudden and unexpected return of Theophilus gave avery different aspect to my affairs. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

LOVE AND HATRED. 

At first Mr. Moncton refused to see his son; but on the receipt of aletter from Theophilus, his positive orders on that head were not onlyreversed, but the worthy young gentleman was received with markedattention by his father. 

The contents of that letter I did not know then, but got a knowledge ofthem in after years. The son had become acquainted with some villainoustransactions of the parent, which he threatened to expose to the world, if any rigorous measures were adopted towards himself. Theserevelations were of such a startling nature, that no alternativeremained to Mr. Moncton but to submit, which he did, and with awonderful good grace. 

It would be no easy matter to describe the surprise and indignation ofTheophilus Moncton, when he discovered that the despised and insultedGeoffrey had become a person of some consequence during his absence. Ishall never forget the studied air of indifference, the chillingcoldness, with which he met me on his return, and under the cover ofwhich he endeavoured to conceal his chagrin. 

The long-cherished dislike that I had entertained for him, had lostmuch of its bitter character during a separation of many months. I waswilling to believe that I might sometimes have been the aggressor, andthat time, and a more intimate knowledge of the world, might haveproduced a favourable change in his surly and morose disposition. I hadstill to learn that the world rarely improves the heart, but onlyteaches both sexes more adroitly to conceal its imperfections. I couldperceive no alteration in Theophilus which gave the least promise ofmental improvement. After a few minutes spent in his company, I foundhim more arrogant and conceited than when he left England. Theaffectation of imitating foreign manners, and interlarding hisconversation with French and Italian, rendered him less attractive inhis assumed, than he had been in his natural, character. 

I listened for the first week to his long, egotistical harangues, withtolerable patience, hoping that the theme of self would soon beexhausted, and the Frenchified dandy condescend to remember that he wasan Englishman; but finding him becoming more arrogant and assuming bylistening to his nonsense, I turned from him with feelings of aversion, which I could but ill conceal. It must have been apparent even, tohimself, that I considered his company a bore. 

The sympathy which exists between kindred minds, all have experiencedat some period of their lives; but the mysterious chords of feelingwhich unite hearts formed by nature, to understand and appreciate eachother, are not more electrical in their operation than those which havetheir origin in the darker passions of the human breast. 

How repugnant to a sensitive mind is a forced association with personsin whom we can find no affinity; and whose sentiments and pursuits areat utter variance with our own. I was acutely alive to these impressions, whenever I encountered the sidelong, watchful glance of my cousin. There was nothing straightforward in him; he never looked friend orenemy honestly in the face. We mutually understood each other. Thoughhe scrupulously avoided addressing his conversation to me, yet it waschiefly intended for my edification; and was replete with satiricalobservations. 

I detest this covert manner of attack; it is mean and unfair in thehighest degree, as it deprives the person attacked from taking his ownpart, and boldly defending himself. Theophilus was a perfect adept atthis dastardly species of warfare. 

I tried to treat his conduct with silent contempt; but his provokingremarks galled me exceedingly; and often, when I appeared unconsciousof their being levelled against me, and earnestly engaged in theperusal of some dull law-book, I was listening to every word heuttered, and quivering with indignation. Theophilus enjoyed mydiscomfiture, and I found his powers of tormenting greater than I hadat first imagined. 

The second day after his arrival, he sent a message up to my room, toinform me that he required that apartment for his valet, and I couldremove to a chamber in the next story. 

I returned for answer, "That I should not quit the occupation of theroom that had been allotted to my use by his father, until I receivedpositive orders from him to that effect. But I should only require it afew days longer, and then he could do as he pleased. "

This insolent demand was not seconded by Mr. Moncton, and I took nofurther notice of it. 

That my uncle had a game of his own to play, when he took me from theobscurity of the office and introduced me into society, I was now morethan ever convinced. Whilst in the presence of his son he treated mewith marked attention and respect, which rendered my situation far moretrying and irksome, as I mistrusted the designs of the one and detestedthe other. 

I felt that Mr. Moncton acted thus, on purpose to annoy Theophilus, andmake him feel the weight of the resentment, which for good reasons hedared not openly express; while he praised my talents and applicationto business, on purpose to rouse the envy and hatred of my cousin. 

One afternoon, as we were sitting over the dessert, Mr. Moncton asusual addressed his conversation exclusively to me, which irritatedTheophilus to such a degree, that he turned suddenly to his father, andexclaimed with much violence:

"You seem, sir, to forget you have a son?"

"Yes, when that son forgot what was due to himself, and to his father'shouse. "

"You have to thank yourself for _that_, " was the insolent reply. "Ihave trod too closely in your own footsteps, and followed too strictlythe honest principles of my father. " He laughed bitterly. "It seemsstrange, that you should be surprised, that such an example should haveproduced corresponding effects upon the mind and character of yourson. "

Shocked at this horrible speech (for in spite of its awful truth, itseemed terrible from the mouth of a son, ) I looked from Theophilus tohis father, expecting to see the dark eye of the latter alive with thelight of passion. But no--there he sat, mute as a marble statue; it wasfrightful to contemplate the glossy stare of his glittering eye, therigid immobility of his countenance. 

"Heavens!" I mentally exclaimed, "can he be insulted in this manner byhis only son, and remain thus calm?" But calm he was, without evenattempting a reply, whilst his insolent son continued. 

"By heaven! if you think that advancing that puppy into my place willbend me to your purpose, you grossly deceive yourself. I pity thestupid puppet who can thus sneak to his bitterest enemy, to obtain aposition he could never rise to by his own merit. Silly boy!--I laughat his folly, our shallow policy, and his credulity. "

The words were scarcely out his mouth, when I sprang from my chair, andwith a well-directed blow levelled him at my feet. 

"Thank you, Geoffrey!" exclaimed Mr. Moncton, raising the crest-fallenhero from the ground: "You have answered both for yourself and me. "

"I have been too rash, " said I, seeing the blood stream copiously frommy cousin's nose; "but he exasperated me beyond endurance. "

"He provoked it himself, " returned Mr. Moncton. "I never blame anyperson when insulted, for taking his own part. You need be under noapprehension of a hostile encounter: Theophilus is a cowardly dog--hecan bark and snarl, but dares not fight. Go to your room, Geoffrey, youwill be better friends after this. "

He said this in a tone of such bitter irony, that I hardly knew whetherhe was pleased with what I had done, or offended, for who could fathomthe mind of such a man? I instantly complied with his request, andfelt, however mortifying to my pride, that Theophilus Moncton haduttered the truth. 

"In another week, " I exclaimed, as I strode through theapartment--"yes, in less than a week, I shall obtain my majority: Ishall be free, and then farewell to this accursed house of bondage forever!"

Theophilus had not been home many days, before I perceived a decidedalteration in the once friendly greetings I had been accustomed toreceive from Mr. Moncton's guests. I was no longer invited to theirparties, or treated with those flattering marks of attention which hadbeen so gratifying to my vanity, and given me such an exalted idea ofmy own consequence. 

At first I was at a loss to imagine what had produced this suddenchange. One simple sentence at length solved all these unpleasantdoubts, and pressed the unwelcome truth home to my heart. RobertMoncton had been reconciled to his son, and I was once more regarded asonly a _poor relation_. 

The day I made this important discovery, I had been detained at theoffice long after our usual dinner-hour, and meeting with a friend onmy way home, I sauntered with him several times up and down RegentStreet, before I returned to my uncle's house. 

I was not aware that my uncle expected company that day, until informedby Saunders in the hall, that a large party were assembled in thedining-room. 

I was a little provoked at not receiving any intimation of the event, and in being too late for appearing at dinner, the third course havingbeen placed on the table; but I hurried away to my own apartment tochange my dress, and join the ladies in the drawing-room. 

This important duty was scarcely effected, before Saunders entered witha tray covered with dainties, which he had catered for my benefit. 

"I was determined, Mr. Geoffrey, that they should not have all the goodthings to themselves. Here is an excellent cut of salmon andlobster-sauce; the plump breast of a partridge, and a slice ofdelicious ham--besides, the sunkets. If you cannot make a good dinneroff these, why, I says, that you deserves to be hungry. "

And throwing a snowy napkin over a small table near the fire, hedeposited the tray and its tempting contents thereon, placed my chair, and stood behind it with beaming eyes, his jolly, rosy face radiantwith good-nature and benevolence. 

I thanked him heartily for his attention to my comfort, and being tiredand hungry, did ample justice to the meal he had provided. 

"This party has been got up in a hurry, Saunders?"

"Not at all, sir. I carried out the invitations four days ago. "

"You surprise me!" said I, dropping my knife and fork. "Four daysago--and I know nothing about it. That is something new. "

"It is young Mr. Moncton's doings, sir. The party is given in honour ofhis return. Says Mr. Theophilus to the Guv'nor, says he, 'I shall saynothing to Geoffrey, about it. What a capital joke it will be, to seehim bolt into the room without studying the Graces for an hour. ' Ithink it was the Graces, he said, sir; but whether it's a law book, ora book of fashions, sir, hang me if I can tell. "

"But why did not you give me a hint of this, my good fellow?"

"Why, sir, " said Saunders, hesitating and looking down, "everybody inthis world has his troubles, and I, sir, have mine. Trouble, sir, makesa man forget every one's affairs but his own; and so, sir, the thingslipped quite out of my 'ead. "

"And what has happened to trouble such a light heart as yours, Saunders?"

"Ah, sir!" sighing and shaking his head, "you remember Jemima, thepretty chamber maid, who lives at Judge Falcon's, across the street; Iam sure you must, sir, for no one that saw Jemima once could forgether; and it was your first praising her that made me cast an eye uponher. Well, sir, I looked and loved, and became desperate about her, andoffered her my 'onest 'and and 'eart, sir, and she promised to becomemy wife. Yes, indeed, she did; and we exchanged rings, and luckysixpences and all that; and I gave master warning for next week; andtook lodgings in a genteel country-looking cottage on the Deptfordroad. But I was never destined to find love there with Jemima. "

"And what has happened to prevent your marriage?" said I, growingimpatient and wishing to cut his long story down to the basement. 

"Many a slip, sir, between the cup and the lip. There's truth in thoseold saws howsomever. Mr. Theophilus's French valet, poured such a heapof flummery into the dear girl's ears, that it turned her 'eadaltogether, and she run off with the haffected puppy last night; butlet him look well after himself, for I swear the first time I catchhim, I'll make cat's meat of him. Ah! sir, the song says, that it's themen who is so cruelly deceitful, but I have found it the reverse. Nevertrust in vimen, sir! I swear I'll hate 'em all from this day, forJemima's sake. "

"Consider yourself a fortunate fellow, " said I. "You have made a verynarrow escape. "

"Ah, sir, it's all very well talking, when you don't feel the smartyourself. I loved that false creter with my 'ole 'art. But there's onething, " brightening up, "which consoles me under this greathaffliction, the annoyance that it has given to Mr. Theophilus. Thismorning, there was no one to dress him--to flatter his vanity and tellhim what a fine gentleman he is: I had to carry up his boots andshaving-water. It was rare fun to see him stamping and raving about theroom, and vishing all the vimen in the vorld at the devil. But hark!there's the dining-room bell. More wine. The ladies have just left forthe drawing-room. "

The blaze of lights, the gay assemblage of youth and beauty whicharrested my eyes as Saunders threw back the folding-doors, sent asudden thrill of joy to my heart. But these feelings were quicklydamped by the cold and distant salutations I received from the largerportion of the company there assembled. Persons who a few weeks beforehad courted my acquaintance and flattered my vanity, by saying anddoing a thousand agreeable things, had not a friendly word to offer. 

The meaning glance which passed round the circle when I appeared amongthem, chilled the warm glow of pleasure, which the sight of so manyfair and familiar faces had called up. 

What could be the meaning of all this? A vague suspicion dashed into mymind, that my cousin was the direct cause of this change in the aspectof affairs, and, sick and disgusted with the world, I sat down at adistant table and began mechanically to turn over a large portfolio ofsplendid prints that I had not noticed before, and which I afterwardsdiscovered, had been brought by Theophilus from Paris. 

A half suppressed titter from two young ladies near me, and which Ifelt was meant for me, stung my proud heart to the quick. A dark mistfloated between me and the lights; and the next moment I determined toleave the room in which I felt that my presence was not required, andwhere I was evidently regarded as an intruder. 

I had just risen from my seat to effect a quiet retreat, when thefolding-doors were again thrown open, and Mrs. Hepburn and Miss Leewere announced. 

What were these strangers to me? The new arrival appeared to make nosmall sensation. A general bustle ensued, and my eyes unconsciouslyfollowed the rest. 

The blood receded from my cheeks, to flush them again to a feverishglow, when I instantly recognized the lovely girl and her aunt, whom Ihad for so many months sought for, and sought in vain. 

Yes, it was she--my adored Catherine--no longer pale and agitated fromrecent danger, but radiant in youth and beauty, her lovely personadorned with costly jewels, and the rich garments that fashion hasrendered indispensable to her wealthy votaries. 

"Miss Lee, " was whispered among the ladies near me. 

"Mr. Moncton's ward?"

"The rich heiress. "

"Do you think her handsome?"

"Yes--passable. "

"Too short. "

"Her figure pretty--but insignificant. "

"She is just out. "

"So I hear. She will not make any great sensation. Too sentimental andcountrified. As Lord Byron says, --'Smells of bread and butter. '"

This last sneering remark, I considered a compliment. My charming Kate, looked as fresh and natural as a new-blown rose with the morning dewstill fresh upon its petals. There was nothing studied or affectedabout her--no appearance of display--no effort to attract admiration;she was an unsophisticated child of nature, and the delightfulfrankness, with which she received the homage of the male portion ofthe company, was quite a contrast to the supercilious airs of thefashionable belles. 

The opinion of the gentlemen with regard to the fair _débutante_, wasquite the reverse of those given by her own sex. 

"What a lovely girl!"

"What an easy graceful carriage!"

"Did you ever see a more charming expression--a more bewitching smile?A perfect lady from head to foot. "

"I have lost _my_ heart already. "

"By Jove! won't she make a noise in the gay world!"

"The beauty of the season. "

"A prize, independent of her large for tune!"

"And doubly a prize with. "

And thus the men prated of her among themselves. 

The excitement at length subsided; and favoured by the obscurity of mysituation, I could watch at a distance all her movements, and nevertire of gazing upon that beaming face. 

By some strange coincidence, I could hardly think it purely accidental, Mrs. Hepburn and her niece came up to the table upon which I wasleaning. 

I rose up in confusion, wondering if they would recognize me, andoffered the elder lady my chair. 

In my hurry and agitation, the portfolio fell from my hand, and thefine prints were scattered over the floor and table. 

A general laugh arose at my expense; I felt annoyed, but laughed asloudly as the rest. Miss Lee, very good-naturedly assisted me inrestoring the prints to their place, then looking earnestly in my facefor a few seconds, she said--"Surely, I am not deceived--you are thegentleman who rescued me from that frightful situation in OxfordStreet. "

"The same, " said I, with a smile. 

"How delighted I am to meet you once more, " she exclaimed, giving meher hand, and warmly shaking mine; "I was afraid that I should neversee you again. And your name--you must tell me your name. "

"Geoffrey Moncton. But, Miss Lee, do not distress me by thinking somuch of a trifling service, which gave me so much pleasure. "

"Trifling! do you call it? Sir, you saved my life, and I never canforget the debt of gratitude I owe you. Aunt, " turning to Mrs. Hepburn, "do you remember this gentleman? How often we have talked thatadventure over, and wondered who my preserver was. It is such apleasure to see him here. "

The old lady, though not quite so eloquent as her niece, was kindenough in her way. Wishing to change the subject, I asked Miss Lee ifshe drew?

"A little. "

"Let us examine these beautiful prints, " said I. 

I gave her a chair, and leant over her. My heart fluttered withdelight. I forgot my recent mortification. I was near her, and, in therapture of the moment, could have defied the malice of the whole world. 

"I am no judge of the merits or demerits of a picture, " she said, inher sweet, gentle voice. "I know what pleases me, and suffer my heartto decide for my head. "

"That is exactly my case, Miss Lee. A picture to interest me, mustproduce the same effect upon my mind as if the object represented wasreally there. This is the reason, perhaps, why I feel less pleasure inexamining those pictures by the ancient masters, though portrayed withmatchless skill, which represent the heathen deities. With Jupiter, Mars and Venus, I can feel little sympathy, while the truthful andspirited delineations of Wilkie and Gainsborough, which have beepfamiliar from childhood, strike home to the heart. "

Before Miss Lee could reply, Theophilus Moncton walked to the table atwhich we were talking. He stared at me, without deigning a word ofrecognition, and shook hands cordially with Miss Lee and her aunt. 

"Happy to see you here, Catherine--was afraid you would be too muchfatigued, after dancing all night, to give us a look in this evening. Been admiring my prints? Splendid collection, ain't they? By-the-by, Mr. Geoffrey, I would thank you to be more careful in handling them. Persons unaccustomed to fine drawings, are apt to injure them by roughtreatment. "

A contemptuous glance was my reply, which was returned by a sidelongwithering glare of hate. 

"That picture, on the opposite side of the room, " continued mytormentor, anxious to divert Miss Lee's attention from me, "is a fineportrait, by Sir Thomas Lawrence. You are an admirer of his style; letus examine the picture nearer; I want to have your opinion of it. "

They crossed the room. In a few seconds, a large group gathered beforethe picture of which Theophilus and Miss Lee formed the nucleus, andhalf a dozen wax-lights were held up to exhibit it to the bestadvantage. 

Theophilus was eloquent in praising Lawrence's style of painting, andentertained the company with an elaborate detail of all the celebratedpaintings he had seen abroad; the studios he had visited, and thedistinguished artists he had patronized. He could talk well, when hepleased, on any subject, and possessed considerable talent and tastefor the arts; yet, I thought him more egotistical and affected thanusual, when standing beside the simple and graceful Catherine Lee. 

She listened to him with politeness, until the gratuitous lecture cameto an end, and then quietly resumed her seat at the table by me, withwhom she entered into a lively conversation. 

The swarthy glow of indignation mounted to my cousin's wan face. Hedrew back, and muttered something inaudibly between his shut teeth, while I secretly enjoyed his chagrin. When supper was announced I hadthe honour of conducting Miss Lee down stairs, leaving my cousin totake charge of the elder lady. Nor did my triumph end here. Catherineinsisted on taking a seat at the lower end of the table, and I foundmyself once more placed by her side. 

"I do detest upper seats at feasts, " said she; "it exposes you toobservation, while in our pleasant obscurity we can enjoy a littlefriendly chat. I never could understand why so many ladies quarrel somuch about taking precedence of each other. "

"It is only ambition in a small way, " said I. 

"Very small, indeed, " she continued, laughing. "But tell me, why youwere not at Mrs. Wilton's large party last night?"

"Simply, because I was not invited. "

"The Monctons were there, father and son. But, perhaps you mix verylittle in the gaieties of the town. "

"Since Theophilus returned, I have been very little from home; and havebecome a mere cipher with my old friends. A few weeks ago, theseWilton's courted my acquaintance, and the young men vied with eachother, in paying me attention. To-night, we met as perfect strangers. To me, the change is unaccountable. I am, however, a perfect novice inthe ways of the world. Such examples of selfish meanness often repeatedwill render me a misanthrope. "

"You must not condemn all, because you have experienced the unmeritedneglect of a few, " said Catherine. "Selfish, interested people arefound in every community. It is a maxim with me, never to judge themass by individuals. Many of the persons we meet with in the world donot live entirely for it, and are incapable of the conduct you deplore. I have met with warm hearts and kind friends amid the gay scenes youcondemn--young people, who like myself, are compelled by circumstancesto mingle in society, while their thoughts and affections are faraway. "

"You have never experienced the frowns of the world, " said I; "I canscarcely allow you to be a competent judge. "

"I am prepared to meet them, " she replied, quickly--then stopped--andsighed deeply. I looked up inquiringly. 

The expression of her fine face was changed from a cheerful to apensive cast. It was not actual sorrow which threw a shade over herclear brow, but she looked as if she had encountered some unexpectedmisfortune, and was prepared to meet it with resignation. She passedher small white hand slowly across her forehead, and I thought I sawtears trembling in her eyes. My interest was deeply excited, and Iloved her better for having suffered. I redoubled my attentions, andbefore the company rose from table, I fancied that she no longerregarded me with indifference. 

From this happy dream, I too soon awoke to an agonizing consciousnessof my own insignificance. A Counsellor Sabine, who had been conversingwith my uncle during the greater part of the evening, beckoned me overto a distant part of the room, and I reluctantly obeyed the summons. Hewanted me to settle a dispute between him and Mr. Moncton, relative tosome papers, which he said had been entrusted to my care. 

My place by Catherine Lee's side was instantly filled by Theophilus. 

Mrs. Hepburn, Catherine's aunt, asked him in a low voice, which, occupied as I was with other matters, did not fail to reach my ears, who I was, and the station I held in society, and ended her remarks bypassing sundry encomiums on my person and accomplishments. 

"_Accomplishments!_" repeated Theophilus, with a sneer. "I know not howhe should be accomplished, Mrs. Hepburn. He is a poor clerk in myfather's office; and as to his standing in society, that is somethingnew to me. He is a natural son of my uncle Edward's, whom my fatheradopted into the family, and brought him up out of charity. I wassurprised at him, an uninvited guest, daring to address hisconversation to Miss Lee. "

It was well for the dastard, that he was protected by the presence ofladies, and beyond the reach of my arm, or I certainly should havecommitted an act of violence. 

I restrained my indignation, however, and appeared outwardlycalm--received some instructions from the counsellor and noted themdown with stoical precision. My hand did not tremble, my passion wastoo terrible for trifling demonstrations. I think I could have put apistol to his head, and seen him bleeding at my feet, without feelingone pang of remorse. 

Miss Lee's carriage was announced. I roused myself from a dream ofvengeance, and offered my arm to conduct her down stairs. She cast uponme a look of sorrowful meaning, and her aunt refused my services with adistant bow. 

I drew proudly back "This, " I thought, "is their gratitude. This islike the rest of the world. "

Mrs. Hepburn gave her hand to Theophilus, and with a grin of triumph heled them out. 

After the company had separated I went up to Theophilus, and demandedan explanation of his ungentlemanly conduct. The answer I received wasan insolent laugh. 

No longer able to restrain my feelings, I poured upon him the boilingrage of my indignation, and did and said many bitter things, that hadbeen better unsaid. He threatened to complain of me to his father. Idared him to do his worst--and left the room in a state of dreadfulexcitement. 

The next morning, while busy in the office, Mr. Moncton came in, andclosed the door carefully after him. 

I rose as he entered and stood erect before him. I knew by the deadlypallor of his face, that something decisive was about to take place. 

"Geoffrey, " he said, in a low, hoarse voice, which he vainlyendeavoured to make calm, "you have grossly insulted my son, and spokento him in the most disrespectful terms of me, your friend andbenefactor. Without you will make a full and satisfactory apology to mefor such intemperate language, and ask his pardon, you may dread myjust displeasure. "

"Ask his pardon!" I cried; almost choking with passion--"for what? Forhis treating me like a menial and a slave!--Never, Mr. Moncton, never!"

My uncle regarded me with the same icy glance which froze my blood whena child, while I recapitulated my wrongs, with all the eloquence whichpassion gives--passion which makes even the slow of speech act the partof an orator. 

He listened to me with a smile of derision. 

Carried beyond the bounds of prudence, I told him, that I would nolonger be subjected to such degrading tyranny; that his deceitfulconduct had cancelled all ties of obligation between us; that thefavours lately conferred upon me, I now saw had only been bestowed toeffect my ruin; that he had been acting a base and treacherous gamewith me to further his own dishonest views; that I was fully aware ofhis motives, and appreciated them as they deserved; that he well knewthe story of my illegitimacy was a forgery, that I had the means toprove it one, and would do it shortly; that the term of my articleswould expire on the following day, and I would then leave his house forever and seek my own living. 

"You may do so to-day, " he replied, in the same cool sarcastic tone;and unlocking his desk he took out the indentures. 

A sudden terror seized me. Something in his look threatened danger: Idrew a quicker breath, and advanced a few paces nearer. 

All my hopes were centered in that sheet of parchment, to obtain which, I had endured seven years of cruel bondage. "No, no, " said I, mentally, "he cannot be such a villain--he dare not do it!"

The next moment the fatal scroll lay torn and defaced at my feet. A cryof despair burst from my lips: I sprang forward, and with one blow laidhim senseless at my feet, and fled from the house. 

I saw Robert Moncton but once again. Recollection shudders when Irecall that dreadful meeting. 

I walked rapidly down the street, perfectly unconscious that I waswithout my hat, and that the rain was falling in torrents; or that Iwas an object of curiosity to the passers-by. 

Some one caught my arm. 

I turned angrily round to shake off the intruder--it was my friendHarrison. 

"In the name of Heaven! Geoffrey, tell me what has happened? What isthe matter--are you in your right senses? Have you quarrelled with youruncle? Let me return with you to the house, " were questions he asked ina breath. 

"_My uncle!_ he is an infernal scoundrel!" I exclaimed, throwing out myclenched hand, and hurrying on still faster. "Oh, that I could crushhim with one blow of this fist!"

"Geoffrey, you are mad--do you know what you say?"

"Perfectly well--stand back, and let me kill him!"

He put his arm forcibly round me. "Calm yourself, Geoffrey. What hascaused this dreadful excitement? Good Heavens! how you tremble. Leanupon me--heavier yet. The arm of a sincere friend supports you--one whowill never desert you, let what will befall. "

"Leave me, George, to my fate. I have been shamefully treated, and Idon't care what becomes of me. "

"If you are unable to take care of yourself, Geoffrey, " he replied, clasping my hand fervently in his own, and directing my steps down aless frequented street, "it is highly necessary that some one should, until your mind a restored to its usual tranquillity. Return with me tomy lodgings; take a composing draught, and go to bed. Your eyes arebloodshot, and starting from your head for want of sleep. "

"Sleep! how is it possible for me to sleep, when the blood is boilingin my veins, and my brain is on fire, and I am tempted every moment tocommit an act of desperation?"

"This feverish state cannot last, my poor friend; these furious burstsof passion must yield to exhaustion. Your knees bend under you. In afew minutes we shall be beyond public observation, and can talk overthe matter calmly. "

As he ceased speaking, a deadly faintness stole over me--my head grewgiddy, the surrounding objects swam round me in endless circles andwith surprising rapidity, the heavens vanished from my sight, anddarkness, blank darkness closed me in, and I should have fallen to theearth, but for the strong arm which held me in its grasp. 

When I again opened my eyes, it was in the identical apothecary's shopinto which, some months before, I had carried the fainting CatherineLee. The little apothecary was preparing to open a vein in my arm. Thisoperation afforded me instant relief; my fury began to subside, andtears slowly trickled down my cheeks. 

George, who was anxiously watching every change in my countenance, toldthe shop-boy to call a coach, which conveyed me in a few minutes to hisold lodgings in Fleet Street. 

CHAPTER XV. 

GEORGE HARRISON AND HIS HISTORY. 

Many days passed over me of which I was totally unconscious. A violentfever had set in, and I was not aware of my situation; scarcely of thebodily sufferings I endured. My wants were ministered to by thekindest, truest friend that ever soothed the miseries of theunfortunate. 

Fancying myself still under the control of Robert Moncton, and aresident beneath his roof, I raved continually of my wrongs, andexhausted myself by threats of vengeance. Long before the crisis of thefever had passed, George had gathered from my impotent ravings thestory of my injuries. After fluctuating a long time between life anddeath, youth and a naturally strong constitution conquered my malady, and I once more thought and felt like a rational creature. Myindignation against my uncle and cousin subsided into a sullen, implacable hatred, to overcome which I tried, and even prayed in vain. Ashamed of harbouring this sinful passion, I yet wanted the moralcourage and Christian forbearance to overcome what reason andconscience united to condemn. 

Degraded in my own estimation, I longed, yet dreaded to confide toHarrison, that the man he attended with such devotion was capable ofsuch base degeneracy--of entertaining sentiments only worthy of RobertMoncton and his son. 

The violence of my disorder had reduced me to such a state of weaknessthat I imagined myself at the point of death, when I was actually outof danger. My nervous system was so greatly affected that I yielded tothe most childish fears, and contemplated dying with indescribablehorror. 

Harrison, who was unacquainted with the state of my mind, attributedthese feelings to the reaction produced by the fever; and thinking thata state of quiescence was necessary for my recovery, seldom spoke to mebut at those times when, with tenderness almost feminine, he gave mefood and medicine, arranged my pillows, or made affectionate inquiriesabout my bodily state. I often pretended to be asleep, while my mindwas actively employed in conjuring up a host of ghastly phantoms, whichprevented my recovery, and were effectually undermining my reason. 

One afternoon, as I lay in a sort of dreamy state, between sleeping andwaking, and mournfully brooding over my perishing hopes and approachingdissolution, I thought that a majestic figure, clothed in flowinggarments of glistening white, came to my bedside, and said to me intones of exquisite sweetness, "Poor, perishing, sinful child of earth!if you wish to enter Heaven, you must first forgive your enemies. Thegate of Life is kept by Love, who is ready to open to every one whofirst withdraws the bar which Hatred has placed before the narrowentrance. "

Overwhelmed with fear and astonishment, I started up in the bed, exclaiming in tones of agonized entreaty, "Oh, God, forgive me! Icannot do it!"

"Do what, dear Geoffrey?" said George, coming to the bedside, andtaking my hand in his. 

"Forgive my enemies. Forgive those wretches who have brought me to thisstate, and by their cruel conduct placed both life and reason injeopardy. I cannot do it, though He, the merciful, who dying forgavehis enemies, commands me to do so. "

"Geoffrey, " said Harrison, soothingly, "you can never recover yourhealth, or feel happy till you can accomplish this great moral victoryover sin and self. "

"I cannot do it!" I responded, turning from him, and burying my face inthe bed-clothes while I hardened my heart against conviction. "No, notif I perish for refusing. I feel as if I were already with thecondemned. "

"No wonder, " returned Harrison, sternly. "Hatred and its concomitantpassion, Revenge, are feelings worthy of the damned. I beseech you, Geoffrey, by the dying prayer of that blessed Saviour, whom you professto believe, try to rise superior to these soul-debasing passions; andnot only forgive, but learn to pity, the authors of your sufferings. "

"I have done my best. I have even prayed to do so. "

"Not in a right spirit, or your prayers would have been heard andaccepted. What makes you dread death? Speak the truth out boldly. Doesnot this hatred to your uncle and cousin stand between you and Heaven?"

"I confess it. But, Harrison, could you forgive them?"

"Yes. "

"Not under the same provocation?"

"I have done so under worse. "

"God in Heaven!--how is that possible?"

"It is true. "

"I won't believe it, " said I, turning angrily upon the pillow. "It isnot in human nature; and few can rise above the weakness of theirkind. "

"Listen to me, Geoffrey, " said Harrison, seating himself on the side ofthe bed. "You wished very much at one time to learn from me the storyof my past life. I did not think it prudent at that time, and whileunder Robert Moncton's roof, to gratify your curiosity. I will do sonow, in the hope of beguiling you out of your present morbid state offeeling, while it may answer the purpose of teaching you a good, morallesson, which I trust you will not easily forget. 

"Man's happiness depends in a great measure on the sympathy of others. His sufferings, by the same rule, are greatly alleviated whencontrasted with the miseries of his neighbours, particularly if theirsorrows happen to exceed his own. 

"Much of my history must remain in the shade, because time alone canunravel the mystery by which I am surrounded; and many importantpassages in my life, prudence forces me to conceal. But, my dearfellow, if my trials and sufferings will in any way reconcile you toyour lot, and enable you to bear with fortitude your own, your friendwill not have suffered and sinned in vain. "

George adjusted my pillows, and gave me my medicine, stirred the fireto a cheerful blaze, and commenced the narrative that for so manymonths I had so ardently longed to hear. 

 * * * * *

HARRISON'S STORY. 

"Perhaps, Geoffrey, you are not aware that your grandfather left SirRobert Moncton, the father of the present Baronet, guardian and trusteeto his two sons, until they arrived at their majority; Edward at thetime of his death, being eighteen years of age, Robert a year and ahalf younger. 

"What tempted Geoffrey Moncton to leave his sons to the guardianship ofthe aristocratic father, from whom he had parted in anger many yearsbefore, no one could tell. 

"The Baronet was a very old man, and was much respected in his day; andit is possible that the dying merchant found by experience, that hecould place more reliance on the honour of a gentleman, than in a manof business. Or it might be, that on his death-bed he repented of thelong family estrangement, and left his sons to the care of theirgrandfather, as a proof that all feelings of animosity were buried inhis grave. 

"Sir Robert's eldest son had been dead for some years, and the presentBaronet, who resided with his grandfather, was just two years olderthan your father, and for several years the cousins lived very amicablybeneath the same roof--were sent to the same college in Oxford tofinish their studies and mingle in the same society. 

"It was unfortunate for your father, who had too little ballast toregulate his own conduct, that he contracted the most ardent friendshipfor the young Alexander, who was a gay, reckless, dissipated fellow, regarding his wealth as the source from which he derived all hissensual pleasures, and not as a talent committed to his stewardship, ofwhich he must one day give an account. 

"Sir Alexander's early career, though not worse than that of many youngmen of the same class, was unmarked by any real moral worth. Hiselegant person, good taste, and graceful manners, won for him theesteem and affection of those around him. Frank, courteous, and everready to use his influence with Sir Robert, in mitigating the distressof his poor tenants, he was almost adored by the lower classes, and bywhom, in return, they were treated with a degree of familiarity, muchbeneath his position as a gentleman. From this extravagant, kind-hearted, and popular young man, Edward Moncton contracted thosehabits which terminated in his ruin. 

"Congeniality of mind strongly attached the cousins to each other; andI am certain that Sir Alexander truly loved the frank, confiding, careless Edward Moncton, while he equally disliked the cold, calculating, money-getting propensities of his brother Robert. Robertpossessed a disposition not likely to forget or forgive a slight; andhe deeply resented the preference shown to his brother; and his hatred, though carefully concealed, was actively employed in forming schemes ofvengeance. 

"You well know, how Robert Moncton can hate; the depths of guile, andthe slow, smooth words, with which he can conceal the malignity of hisnature, and hide the purposes of his heart. He had a game too to play, from which he hoped to rise up the winner; and to obtain this object healternately flattered and deceived his unconscious victims. 

"The particulars of your father's quarrel with Sir Alexander I neverknew; it took place just before the young men left college and becametheir own masters; but it was of such a nature that they parted inanger, never to meet again. 

"Shortly after this quarrel old Sir Robert died; and Alexander Monctoncame in for the estates and title. Your father and uncle, both beingnow of age, entered upon the great business of life. Your fatherresumed the business bequeathed to him by his father, and your uncleentered into partnership with the firm, of which he now stands the headand sole proprietor. 

"Several years passed away. The only intercourse between the familieswas through Sir Alexander and his cousin Robert, who, in spite of theyoung Baronet's aversion, contrived to stick to him like a bur, untilhe fairly wriggled himself into his favour. At thirty, Sir Alexanderstill remained a bachelor, and seemed too general an admirer of the sexto resign his liberty to any particular _belle_. 

"About this period of my story one of Sir Alexander's game-keepers wasshot by a band of poachers, who infested the neighbourhood. RichardNorth, the husband of Dinah, had made himself most obnoxious to theselawless depredators, and thus fell a victim to his over-zeal. 

"Sir Alexander considered himself bound in honour to provide for thewidow and her daughter of his faithful servant, particularly as theformer had been left without any means of support. Both mother anddaughter were received into his service--Dinah as housekeeper at theHall, and her daughter Rachel as upper chamber-maid. 

"Dinah, at that period, was not more than thirty-four years of age, andfor a person of her class was well educated, and uncommonly handsome. Isee you smile, Geoffrey, but such was the fact. 

"Rachel, who was just sixteen, was considered a perfect model of femalebeauty, by all the young fellows who kept Bachelors' Hall with SirAlexander. The young Baronet fell desperately in love with his fairdependent, and the girl and her mother entertained hopes that he wouldmake her his wife. Pride, however, hindered him from making her LadyMoncton. In order to break the spell that bound him he gave the mothera pretty cottage on the estate, and a few acres of land rent-free, andwent up to London to forget, amid its gay scenes, the bright eyes thathad sorely wounded his peace. 

"Dinah North was not a woman likely to bear with indifference the pangsof disappointed ambition. She bitterly reproached her daughter forhaving played her cards so ill, and vowed vengeance on the proud lordof the manor, in curses loud and deep. 

"Rachel's character, though not quite so harshly defined, possessed toomuch of the vindictive nature of the mother. She had loved SirAlexander with all the ardour of a first youthful attachment. Hiswealth and station were nothing to her--it was the man alone sheprized. Had he been a peasant, she would have loved as warmly and aswell. Lost to her for ever, she overlooked the great pecuniary favoursjust conferred upon her mother and herself, and only lived to berevenged. 

"It was while smarting under their recent disappointment that thesewomen were sought out and bribed by Robert Moncton to become his agentsin a deep-laid conspiracy, which he hoped to carry out against SirAlexander and his family. 

"Robert Moncton was still unmarried, and Dinah took the charge of hisestablishment, being greatly enraged with her beautiful daughter formaking a run-away match with Roger Mornington, Sir Alexander'shuntsman, who was a handsome man, and the finest rider in the county ofYork. 

"After an absence of five years, Sir Alexander suddenly returned toMoncton Park, accompanied by a young and lovely bride. During that fiveyears, a great change had taken place in the young Baronet, whoreturned a sincere Christian and an altered man. 

"Devotedly attached to the virtuous and beautiful lady whom he hadwisely chosen for his mate, the whole study of his life was to pleaseher, and keep alive the tender affections of the noble heart he hadsecured. 

"They loved, as few modern couples love; and Sir Alexander's friends, and he had many, deeply sympathized in his happiness. 

"Two beings alone upon his estate viewed his felicity with jealous andmalignant eyes--two beings, who, from their lowly and dependentsituations, would have been thought incapable of marring the happinesswhich excited their envy. Dinah North had been reconciled to herdaughter, and they occupied the huntsman's lodge, a beautiful cottagewithin the precincts of the park. Dinah had secretly vowed vengeance onthe man who, from principle, had saved her child from the splendidshame the avaricious mother coveted. She was among the first to offerher services, and those of her daughter, to Lady Moncton. The prettyyoung wife of the huntsman attracted the attention of the lady of theHall, and she employed her constantly about her person, while in casesof sickness, for she was very fragile, Dinah officiated as nurse. 

"A year passed away, and the lady of the manor and the wife of thelowly huntsman were both looking forward with anxious expectation tothe birth of their first-born. 

"At midnight, on the 10th of October, 1804, an heir was given to theproud house of Moncton; a weak, delicate, puny babe, who nearly costhis mother her life. At the same hour, in the humble cottage at theentrance of that rich domain, your poor friend, George Harrison (orPhilip Mornington, which is my real name) was launched upon the stormyocean of life. "

At this part of Harrison's narrative I fell back upon my pillow andgroaned heavily. 

George flew to my assistance, raising me in his arms and sprinklingmy face with water. 

"Are you ill, dear Geoffrey?"

"Not ill, George, but grieved: sick at heart, that you should begrandson to that dreadful old hag. "

"We cannot choose our parentage, " said George, sorrowfully. "Thestation in which we are born, constitutes fate in this world; it is theonly thing pertaining to man over which his will has no control. We candestroy our own lives, but our birth is entirely in the hands ofProvidence. Could I have ordered it otherwise, I certainly should havechosen a different mother. "

He smiled mournfully, and bidding me to lie down and keep quiet, resumed his tale. 

"The delicate state of Lady Moncton's health precluding her fromnursing her child, my mother was chosen as substitute, and the weaklyinfant was entrusted to her care. The noble mother was delighted withthe attention which Rachel bestowed upon the child, and loaded her withpresents. As to me, I was given into Dinah's charge, who felt smallremorse in depriving me of my natural food, if anything in the shape ofmoney was to be gained by the sacrifice. The physicians recommendedchange of air for Lady Moncton's health; and Sir Alexander fixed onItaly as the climate most likely to benefit his ailing and belovedwife. 

"My mother was offered large sums to accompany them, which shesteadfastly declined. Lady Moncton wept and entreated, but RachelMornington was resolute in her refusal. 'No money, ' she said, 'shouldtempt her to desert her husband and child, much as she wished to obligeLady Moncton. '

"The infant heir of Moncton was thriving under her care, and she seemedto love the baby, if possible, better than she did her own. SirAlexander and the physician persuaded Lady Moncton, though she yieldedmost reluctantly to their wishes, to overcome her maternal solicitude, and leave her child with his healthy and affectionate nurse. 

"She parted from the infant with many tears, bestowing upon him themost passionate caresses, and pathetically urging Rachel Mornington notto neglect the important duties she had solemnly promised to perform. 

"Three months had scarcely elapsed before the young heir of Moncton wasconsigned to the family vault; and Sir Alexander and his wife were dulyapprised by Robert Moncton, who was solicitor for the family, of themelancholy event. That this child did not come fairly by his death Ihave strong reasons for suspecting, from various conversations which Ioverheard when a child, pass between Robert Moncton, Dinah North, andmy mother. 

"The news of their son's death, as may well be imagined, was received bySir Alexander and Lady Moncton with the most poignant grief; and sixyears elapsed before she and her husband revisited Moncton Park. 

"My mother was just recovering from her confinement with a lovelylittle girl--the Alice, to whom you have often heard me allude--whenSir Alexander and Lady Moncton arrived at the Hall. They brought withthem a delicate and beautiful infant of three months old. 

"I can well remember Lady Moncton's first visit to the Lodge, to learnfrom my mother's own lips the nature of the disease which had consignedher son to his early grave. I recollect my mother telling her that thelittle George went to bed in perfect health, and died in a fit duringthe night, before medical aid could be procured. She shed some tearswhile she said this, and assured Lady Moncton that the baby's death hadoccasioned her as much grief as if he had been her own--that she wouldmuch rather that I had died than her dear nurse-child. 

"I remember, as I leant against Dinah North's knees, thinking this veryhard of my mother, and wondering why she should prefer Lady Moncton'sson to me. But, from whatever cause her aversion sprang, she certainlynever had any maternal regard for me. 

"Lady Moncton drew me to her, and with her sweet, fair face bathed intears, told my mother that I was a beautiful boy--that her darlingwould have been just my age and size, and that she could not helpenvying her her child. She patted my curly head, and kissed merepeatedly, and said that I must come often to the Hall and see her, and she would give me pretty toys, and teach me to read. 

"Ah, how I loved her! Her kind, gentle voice was the first music I everheard. How I loved to sit at her feet when she came to the cottage, andlook up into her pale, calm face; and when she stooped down to kiss me, and her glossy ringlets mingled with mine, I would fling my arms abouther slender neck, and whisper in a voice too low for my stern motherand Dinah to hear:

"'I love you a thousand, thousand times better than anything else inthe world. Oh I how I wish I were your own little boy. '

"Then the bright tears would flow fast down her marble cheeks, and shewould sigh so deeply, as she returned with interest my childishpassionate caresses. 

"Ah, Geoffrey, my childish heart spoke the truth. I loved thathigh-born, noble woman, better than I have since loved aught in thiscold, bad world: at least, my affection for her was of a purer, holiercharacter. 

"My mother was taken home to the Hall, to act as wet nurse to littleMargaret; and I remained at the cottage with my harsh, crossgrandmother, who beat me without the slightest remorse for the mosttrifling faults, often cursing and wishing me dead, in the mostmalignant manner. 

"My father, whom I seldom saw (for his occupation took him often fromhome, which was rendered too hot for comfort, by the temper of hismother-in-law), was invariably kind to me. When he came in from thestables he would tell me funny stories, and sing me jolly huntingsongs; and what I liked still better, would give me a ride before himon the fine hunters he had under his care: promising that when I wasold enough, I should take them airing round the park, instead of him. 

"My poor father! I can see him before me now, with his frank, good-natured face, and laughing blue eyes: his stalwart figure, arrayedin his green velvet hunting-coat, buckskin breeches and top-boots; andthe leather cap, round which his nut-brown hair clustered in thickcurls; and which he wore so jauntily on one side of his head. RogerMornington was quite a dandy in his way, and had belonged to a good oldstock; but his father ran away when a boy, and went to sea, anddisgraced his aristocratic friends; and Roger used to say, that he hadall the gentlemanly propensities, minus the cash. 

"He doted upon me. 'His dear little jockey!' as he used to call me; andI always ran out to meet him when he came home, with loud shouts ofjoy. But there came a night, when Roger Mornington did not return; andseveral days passed away, and he was at length found dead in a lonelypart of the park. The high-spirited horse he rode had thrown him, andhis neck was broken by the fall--and the horse not returning to thestables, but making off to the high road, no alarm had been excited atthe absence of his rider. 

"My mother was sincerely grieved for his death; he was a kind, indulgent husband to her; and it was the first severe pang of sorrowthat my young heart had ever known. 

"The day after his funeral, I was sitting crying beside the fire, holding my untasted breakfast on my knee. 

"'Don't take on so, child, ' said my mother, wiping the tears from herown eyes. 'All the tears in the world won't bring back the dead. '

"'And will dear daddy never come home again?' I sobbed. 'Ah, I have noone to love me now, but the dear good lady up at the Hall!'

"'Don't I love you, Philip?'

"'No, ' I replied scornfully, 'you don't love me, and you never did. '

"'How do you know that?'

"'Because you never kiss me, and take me up in your lap, as LadyMoncton does, and look at me with kind eyes, and call me your dear boy. No, no, when I come for you to love me, you push me away, and cryangrily, 'Get away, you little pest! don't trouble me!' and grandmotheris always cursing me, and wishing me dead. Do you call _that_love?'

"I never shall forget the ghastly smile that played about her beautifulstern mouth, as she said unconsciously, aloud to herself: 'It is notthe child, but the voice of God that speaks through him. How can Iexpect him to love me?'

"How I wondered what she meant. For years that mysterious sentencehaunted my dreams. 

"I was soon called to endure a heavier grief. Lady Moncton's healthdaily declined. She grew worse--was no longer able to go out in thecarriage, and the family physician went past our house many timesduring the day on his way to the Hall. 

"Old Dinah and my mother were constantly absent attending upon the sicklady, and I was left in charge of a poor woman who came over to thecottage to clean the house, and take care of little Alice, while mymother was away. 

"One day my mother came hastily in. She was flushed with walking fast, and seemed much agitated. She seized upon me, washed my face and hands, and began dressing me in my Sunday suit. 

"'A strange whim this, in a dying woman, ' said she, to the neighbour, 'to have such a craze for seeing other people's children. Giving allthis trouble for nothing. '

"After a good deal of pushing and shaking she dragged me off with herto the Hall, and I was introduced into the solemn state chamber, wheremy kind and noble friend was calmly breathing her last. 

"Ah, Geoffrey, how well I can recall that parting hour, and the deepimpression it made on my mind. There, beneath that sumptuous canopy, lay the young, the beautiful--still beautiful in death, with Heaven'sown smile lighted upon her pale serene face. God had set his holy sealupon her brow. The Merciful, who delighteth in mercy, had marked herfor his own. 

"Ah, what a fearful contrast to that angelic face was the dark fiercecountenance of Dinah North, scowling down upon the expiring saint, andholding in her arms the sinless babe of that sweet mother. 

"Rachel Mornington's proud handsome features wore their usual sternexpression, but her face was very pale, and her lips firmly compressed. She held, or rather grasped me by the hand, as she led me up to thebed. 

"'Is that my little Philip?' said the dying woman in her usual sweettones. But the voice was so enfeebled by disease as to be scarcelyaudible. 

"'It is my son, my lady, ' replied Rachel, and her voice slightlyfaltered. 

"'What says my love?' asked Sir Alexander, raising his head from thebed-clothes in which his face had been buried to conceal his tears. 

"'Lift the boy up to me, dearest Alick, that I may kiss him once morebefore I die. '

"Sir Alexander lifted me into the bed beside her, and raised her upgently with his other arm, so that both she and I were encircled in hisembrace. My young heart beat audibly. I heard Lady Moncton whisper toher husband. 

"'Alexander, he is your child. Ah, do not deny it now. You know, I loveyou _too_ well to be jealous of you. Just tell me the honest truth?'

"A crimson glow spread over her husband's face, as, in the same hurriedwhisper, he replied, 'Dearest Emilia, the likeness is purelyaccidental. I pledge to you my solemn word, that he is not my son. '

"The poor lady looked doubtingly in his face. I saw a bitter scornfulsmile pass over the rigid features of my mother; whilst I, foolishchild, was flattered with the presumption that I might possibly be SirAlexander's son. 

"'Do not cry Philip, my darling boy!' said Lady Moncton, holding meclose to her breast. 'Sir Alexander will be a father to you for mysake. I am very happy, my dear child; I am going to Heaven, where myown sweet baby went before me; I shall meet him there. Be a good boy, and love your mother, and your pretty little sister; and above all, mydear child, love your Saviour, who can lead you through the dark valleyof the shadow of death, as gently as he is now leading me. Should youlive to be a man, ' added she faintly, 'remember this hour, and the ladywho loved and adopted you as her son. '

"Then turning slowly towards her husband, she wound her thin transparenthands about his neck; breathed a few words of love in his ear, unheardby aught save him and me; and reclining her meek pale face upon hismanly breast, expired without a struggle. 

"A deep solemn pause succeeded. I was too awe-struck to weep. The deepconvulsive sobs which burst from the heart of the bereaved husbandwarned intruders to retire. My mother led me from the chamber of death, and as we took our way in silence across the park, the solemn toll ofthe death-bell floated through its beautiful glades. 

"'Mother, ' said I; clinging to her dress. 'What is that?'

"'The voice of death, Philip. Did you not hear that bell toll for yourfather? It will one day toll for me--for you--for all. '

"'How I wish, mother, that that day would soon come. '

"'Silly boy! Do you wish us all dead?'

"'Not you mother, nor granny. You may both live as long as you like. But when it tolls for me, I shall be in Heaven with dear Lady Moncton. '

"Rachel started, stopped suddenly, and fixed upon me a mournful gaze, the only glance of tenderness which ever beamed upon me from thosebrilliant, stern eyes. 

"'Poor child! you may have your wish gratified only too soon. DidRobert Moncton or Dinah North know of your existence, the green sodwould not lie long unpiled upon your head. You think I do not love you, Philip!' she cried, passionately--'I do, I do, my poor child. I havesaved your life, though you think me so cross and stern. '

"She knelt down beside me on the grass, flung her arms round me, andpressed me convulsively to her bosom, whilst big bright tears fell fastover my wondering countenance. 

"'Mother, ' I sobbed, 'I do love you sometimes--always, when you speakkindly, to me, as you do now; and I love dear little Alice--ah, somuch! my heart is full of love--I cannot tell you how much. '

"Rachel redoubled her weeping--a step sounded behind us--she sprang toher feet, as Dinah North, with the little Margaret Moncton in her arms, joined us. 

"'What are you doing there, Rachel?' growled forth the hard-heartedwoman. 'Are you saying your prayers, or admiring the beauty of yourson. Hang the boy! though he is your child, I never can feel the leastinterest in him. '

"'Is that his fault or yours?' said my mother, coldly. 

"'Ah, mine, of course, ' said Dinah, bitterly. 'We are not accountablefor our likes or dislikes. I hate the boy!'

"I looked at her with defiance in my eyes, and she answered my lookwith a sharp blow on the cheek. 'Don't look at me, young dog, in thatinsolent way. I have tamed prouder spirits than yours, and I'll tameyours yet. '

"My mother gave her an angry glance, but said nothing, and we walkedslowly on. At last Dinah turned to her and said:

"'Rachel, this should be a proud and joyful day to you. '

"'In what respect, mother?'

"'Your rival's dead; you have gained your liberty, and Sir Alexander isfree to choose another wife. Do you understand me now?'

"'Perfectly; but that dream is past, ' said my mother, mournfully. 'SirAlexander loved that dead angel too well, to place a woman of lowdegree in her place. If he did not unite his destiny to mine when I wasyoung and beautiful, and he in the romance of life, don't flatteryourself into the belief that he will do it now. I know human naturebetter. '

"'You don't know your own power, ' said Dinah; 'beauty is stronger thanrank and fortune, and you are still handsome enough to do a deal ofmischief among the men, if you only set about it in the right way. '

"'Peace! mother. I need none of your teaching. I learned to loveMornington, and ceased to love Sir Alexander. Nay, I am really sorryfor the death of poor Lady Moncton, and should despise her husband ifhe could forget her for one like me. '

"'Fool! idiot!' exclaimed Dinah, in a tone of exasperation. 'You haveever stood in the way of your own fortune. Had you not been so oversqueamish you might have changed the children, and made your own sonthe heir of the Moncton. Had I been at home, this surely would havebeen done. This was all the good I got by leaving you to the guidanceof a handsome, good-natured fool like Mornington. '

"'Mother, speak more respectfully of the dead, ' said Rachel. 'He was_good_, at any rate, which we _are not_. It was my intention to havechanged the children, but God ordered it otherwise, ' she continued, with a convulsive laugh. 'However, I have had my revenge, but it hascost me many a blighting thought. '

"'I don't understand you, ' said Dinah, drawing close up before us, andfixing a keen look of inquiry on her daughter. 

"'Nor do I mean that you should, ' coldly retorted Rachel. 'My secret isworth keeping. You will know it one day too soon. '

"We had now reached home, and the presence of the strange woman put anend to this mysterious conversation. Though only a boy of eight yearsold, it struck me as so remarkable, that I could never forget it; andnow, when years have gone over me, I can distinctly recall every wordand look which passed between those sinful women. Alas, that one shouldbe so near to me. 

"But you are sleepy, Geoffrey. The rest of my mournful history willhelp to wile away the tedium of the long to-morrow. "

CHAPTER XVI. 

GEORGE HARRISON CONTINUES HIS HISTORY. 

"The sorrows of my childhood were great, " continued George, "but stillthey were counterbalanced by many joys. In spite of the disadvantagesunder which I laboured, my gay, elastic spirit surmounted them all. 

"Naturally fearless and fond of adventure, I never shrunk fromdifficulties, but felt a chivalrous pride in endeavouring to overcomethem. If I could not readily do this at the moment, I lived on in thehope that the day would arrive when by perseverance and energy, Ishould ultimately conquer. 

"I have lived to prove that of which I early felt a proud conviction;that it is no easy matter for a wicked person, let him be ever soclever and cunning, to subdue a strong mind, which dares to be true toitself. 

"Dinah North felt my superiority even as a child, and the mortifyingconsciousness increased her hatred. She feared the lofty spirit of theboy whom her tyrannical temper could not tame; who laughed at herthreats, and defied her malice, and who, when freed from her control, enjoyed the sweets of liberty in a tenfold degree. 

"Sir Alexander put me to a school in the neighbourhood, where I learnedthe first rudiments of my mother tongue, writing, reading, and simplearithmetic. The school closed at half-past four o'clock in theafternoon; when I returned to the Lodge, for so the cottage was calledin which we resided, and which stood just within the park at the headof the noble avenue of old oaks and elms that led to the Hall. Two ofthe loveliest, sweetest children nature ever formed were always at thePark gates watching for my coming, when they ran to meet me withexclamations of delight, and we wandered forth hand in hand to look forwild fruit and flowers among the bosky dells and romantic uplands ofthat enchanting spot. 

"Alice Mornington and Margaretta Moncton were nearly the same age, bornat least within three months of each other, and were six years youngerthan I. Strikingly different in their complexion, appearance anddisposition, the two little girls formed a beautiful contrast to eachother. Alice was exquisitely fair, with large, brilliant, blue eyes, like my poor mother's, and long silken ringlets of sunny hair whichcurled naturally upon her snow-white shoulders. She was tall andstately for her age, and might have been a princess, for the nobledignity of her carriage would not have disgraced a court. 

"She was all life and spirit. The first in every sport, the last toyield to fatigue or satiety. Her passions were warm and headstrong; hertemper irritable; her affections intense and constant, and her mannersso frank and winning that while conscious that she had a thousandfaults, you could but admire and love her. 

"A stranger might have thought her capricious, but her love of varietyarose more from the exuberance of her fancy than from any love ofchange. She was a fair and happy child, the idol of her fond brother'sheart, till one baneful passion marred what God and nature made sobeautiful. 

"Margaret Moncton, outwardly, was less gifted than Alice Mornington, but she far surpassed her foster-sister in mental endowments. Herstature was small, almost diminutive. Her features neither regular norhandsome except the dark eyes, the beauty of which I think I never sawsurpassed. 

"Her complexion was pure but very pale, and her lofty, thoughtful browwore a serious expression from infancy. In our wildest revels on thegreen sward, you seldom heard Margaret laugh; but when pleased, she hada most bewitching smile, which lighted up her calm countenance tillevery feature beamed with an inexpressible grace. Her face was themirror of purity and truth, and you felt, whilst looking upon it, thatit was impossible for Margaret to deceive. 

"How could I be unhappy, while I had these two beautiful children formy daily companions, and the most charming rural scenery at myimmediate command?

"Sir Alexander came every day to the Lodge to see his child, and alwayslavished upon me the most flattering marks of his favour. His manner tomy mother was, at first, shy and reserved. This wore off by degrees, and before two years had expired, from the death of his wife, hisvisits became so constant, and his attentions so marked, that Dinahonce more began to entertain hopes that her ambitious schemes for herdaughter might yet be realized. These hopes were only frustrated by thesudden death of the object for whom they were cherished. My mother, forsome weeks, had complained of an acute pain in her left side, justunder her breast, and the medicines she procured from the doctorafforded her no relief. She grew nervous and apprehensive of theconsequences, but as her personal appearance was not at all injured byher complaint, Dinah ridiculed her fears. 

"'You may laugh as you please, mother, ' said she, the very day beforeshe died, 'but I feel this pain will be the death of me--and I so unfitto die, ' she added, with a deep sigh. 

"'Nonsense!' returned Dinah, 'you will wear your wedding clothes asecond time, before we put on your shroud. '

"My mother only answered with another deep-drawn sigh. She passed asleepless night--the doctor was sent for in the morning, gave her acomposing draught, and told her to make her mind easy, for she hadnothing to fear. 

"I always slept in the same bed with my mother. That night I had a badcold and could not sleep; but knowing that she was not well, I layquite still, fearing to disturb her. She slept well during the earlypart of the night. The clock had just struck twelve when she rose up inthe bed, and called Dinah to come to her quickly. Her voice soundedhollow and tremulous. 

"'What ails you, Rachel?' grumbled the hard woman; 'disturbing a bodyat this hour of the night. '

"'Be it night or morning, ' said my mother, 'I am dying, and this hourwill be my last. '

"'Then in the name of God! send for the doctor. '

"'It is too late now. He can do me no good: I am going fast; but thereis something on my mind, mother, which I must tell you before I go. Sitdown beside me on the bed, whilst I have strength left to do it, andswear to me mother, that you will not abuse the confidence I am aboutto repose in you. '

"Dinah nodded assent. 

"'That will not do. I must have your solemn word--your oath!'

"'What good will that do, Rachel? no oath can bind me--I believe in noGod, and fear no devil!'

"This confession was accompanied by a hideous, cackling laugh. Rachelgroaned aloud. 

"'Oh, mother! there is a God--an avenging God! Could you feel what Inow feel, and see what I now see, like the devils, you would believeand tremble. You will know it one day, and like me, find out thatrepentance comes too late. I will, however, tell the plain truth, andyour diabolical policy, will, doubtless, suggest the use which may bemade of such an important secret. '

"There was a long pause, after which some sentences passed betweenthem, in such a low voice, that I could not distinctly hear them; atlast I heard my mother say, "'You never saw these children, or you would not wonder that my heartso clave to that fair babe. You thought that I accepted RobertMoncton's bribe, and put the other child out of the way. '

"'And did you not?' cried the eager old woman, breathless withcuriosity. 

"'I took the bribe. But the child died a natural death, and I was savedthe commission of a frightful crime, which you and your master wereconstantly writing to me, to urge me to commit. Now, listen, mother. '

"What she said was in tones so low, that, though I strained every nerveto listen, as I should have done, had it been a ghost story, or anytale of horror, the beating of my own heart frustrated all myendeavours. 

"Rachel's communication appeared to astonish her mother. Her dark, wrinkled brows contracted until not a particle of the eyes werevisible, and she sat for a long while in deep thought, rocking herselfto and fro on the bed, whilst the dying woman regarded her withexpanded eyes and raised hands, locked tightly together. At last shespoke. 

"'Dinah! make no ill use of my confidence, or there will come a day ofvengeance for both you and me. What shall we gain by being tools in thehands of a wicked man like Robert Moncton. Why should we sell our soulsfor naught, to do his dirty work. '

"'Not to serve him will I do aught to injure the child. No, no. DinahNorth is not such a fool. If I do it to gratify my own revenge, that'sanother thing. I have this bad, bold Robert in my power. This secretwill be a fortune in itself--will extort from his mean, avaricioussoul, a portion of his ill-gotten wealth. Ha, my child! you did welland wisely, and may die in peace, without the stain of blood upon yoursoul. '

"Rachel shook her head despondingly. 

"'There is no peace, saith my God, for the wicked. My soul consented tothe crime, and whilst the thought was uppermost in my heart, the boltof the Almighty smote me, and my resolution wavered; but, the guilt, atthis moment, appears to me the same. It is a dreadful thing to diewithout hope. Where is Alice?'

"'Sleeping. Shall I bring her to you?'

"'Let her sleep. I feel sleepy, too. Smooth my pillow, mother. Give mea little water. I feel easy now. Perhaps, I shall awake in the morningbetter. '

"The pillows were arranged--the draught given; but the sleeper neverawoke again. 

"Her mysterious communications, which only came by halves to my ears, filled my mind with vague conjectures, and I cannot help thinking, tothis hour, that the young heir of Moncton came to an untimely death, and she blamed herself so bitterly for not having me supply his place. 

"Stern as my mother had been during her life, her death was a severeblow to us all, especially to Alice and me; as it removed from ourhumble home an object most dear to us both, the little lady of themanor, to whom we had ever given the endearing name of sister. 

"After Margaret left us, how dull did all our pastimes appear. Aliceand I wandered sadly and silently among our old haunts; the song of thebirds cheered us no longer; the flowers seemed less fair; the murmur ofthe willow-crowned brook less musical; the presiding genius of theplace had vanished; we felt that we were alone. 

"I had now reached my fourteenth year, and Sir Alexander, true to thepromise made to his wife, sent me to an excellent school in the city ofYork. Here I made such good use of my time, that before three years hadelapsed I was second boy in the head class, and had won the respect ofthe master and ushers. My munificent patron was greatly pleased withthe progress I had made, and hinted at sending me to college, if Icontinued to deserve his good opinion. 

"Ah, Geoffrey! those were halcyon days, when I returned to spend thevacations at the Lodge, and found myself ever a welcome visitor at theHall. With a proud heart I recounted to Sir Alexander, all my boyishtriumphs at school, and the good baronet listened to my enthusiasticdetails with the most intense interest, and fought all his juvenilebattles over again, with boyish ardour, to the infinite delight of ouradmiring audience, Margaret and Alice. The latter spent most of hertime with Miss Moncton, who was so much attached to her foster-sister, and shed so many tears at parting from her, that Sir Alexander yieldedto her earnest request for Alice to remain with her, and the youngheiress and the huntsman's blooming daughter were seldom apart. MissMoncton's governess, an amiable and highly accomplished woman, took asmuch pains in teaching Alice as she did in superintending the educationof her high-born pupil. The beautiful girl acquired her tasks sorapidly, and with such an intense desire for improvement, that SirAlexander declared, that she beat his Madge hollow. 

"Dinah North exulted in the growing charms of her grand-daughter. Ifthe old woman regarded anything on earth with affection, it was thetall, fair girl so unlike herself. And Alice, too--I have oftenwondered how it were possible--Alice loved with the most ardentaffection, that forbidding-looking, odious creature. 

"To me, since the death of my mother, she had been civil butreserved--never addressing me without occasion required--and I neithersought nor cared for her regard. 

"It was on the return of one of those holidays, when I returned homefull of eager anticipations of happiness, of joyous days spent at thePark in company with Margaret and Alice, that I first beheld thatartful villain, Robert Moncton. 

"It was a lovely July evening. The York coach set me down at the Parkgates, and I entered the pretty cottage with my scanty luggage on myback, and found the lawyer engaged in earnest conversation with mygrandmother. 

"Struck with the appearance of the man, which at first sight is veryremarkable, I paused for some minutes on the threshold, unobserved bythe parties. Like you, Geoffrey, I shall never forget the impressionhis countenance made upon me. The features so handsome, the colouringso fine, the person that of a finished gentleman; and yet, all thispleasing combination of form and face marred by that cold, cruel, merciless eye. Its expression so dead, so joyless, sent a chill throughmy whole frame, and I shrank from encountering its icy gaze, and wasabout quietly to retire by a back door, when my attention was arrestedby the following brief conversation. 

"'I should like to see the lad. '

"'We expect him home from school by the coach to-night. '

"'What age is he?'

"'Just sixteen. '

"'What does Sir Alexander mean to do for him?'

"'Send him to college, I believe. He is very fond of him. '

"'Humph!--and then to London to make a lawyer of him. Leave him to me, Dinah, I will make a solicitor of him in earnest. I have taught many abold heart and reckless hand to solicit the charity of others. '

"'Devil doubt you!' rejoined the fiend with a hollow, cackling laugh. 'But you may find the boy one too many for you, with all your cunning. He'll not start at shadows, nor stumble over straws. I have tamed manya proud spirit in my day, but this boy defies my power. I fear and hatehim, but I cannot crush him. But hush!--here he is. '

"I bustled forward and flung my portmanteau heavily to the ground. 'Howare you, grandmother? How's Alice? All well, I hope?'

"'Do you see the gentleman, Philip?'

"'Gentleman! I beg his pardon. A fine evening, sir; but very hot anddusty travelling by the coach. I have not tasted anything sincebreakfast, grandmother; and I am tired and hungry. '

"'Yours is the hungry age, ' said the lawyer, staring me full in theface, as if he was taking a proof impression for legal purposes. Hiscold, searching look brought the blood to my cheeks, and I returned theimpertinent scrutiny with a glance of defiance. 

"He rose; nodded meaningly to Dinah, bowed slightly to me, and left thecottage. 

"The next minute Alice was in my arms. 

"'Brother! dear, darling brother! welcome, welcome a thousand times. '

"Oh, what a contrast to the dark, joyless countenance of Dinah North, was the cherub face of Alice--laughing in the irresistible glee of heryoung heart. I forgot my long, tiresome journey, dust, heat, andhunger, as I pulled her on my knee, and covered her rosy cheeks withkisses. 

"'What news since I left, Alice?'

"'Sad news, Philip. Dear Madge is in London on a visit to her aunt; andthere is a dull, cross boy staying at the Hall, with a very hardname--Theophilus Moncton--Margaret's cousin. But he is nothing likeher, though he calls her his little wife. But Madge says that she willnever have him, though his father is very rich. '

"'I am sure _you will_ hate him, Philip, for he calls us beggar'sbrats, and wonders that Sir Alexander suffers his daughter to play withus. I told him that he was very rude; and that he had better notaffront you, for you would soon teach him better manners. But he onlysneered at me, and said, "My father's a _gentleman_. He never suffersme to associate with people _beneath_ us. Your brother had better keepout of my way, or I will order my groom to horsewhip him. " I felt veryangry and began to cry, and Sir Alexander came in and reproved the boy, and told me I had better return to grandmamma until Mr. Moncton and hisson had left the Hall. '

"While little Alice, ran on thus to me, I felt stung to the quick; andall the pride of my nature warring within. For the first time in mylife, I became painfully conscious of the difference of rank whichexisted between me and my benefactor; I was restless and unhappy, anddetermined not to go near the Hall, until Sir Alexander bade me do sohimself. 

"But days passed, and I saw nothing of the good Baronet, and Alice andI were obliged to content ourselves by roaming through all the oldbeloved haunts, and talking of Margaret. We were returning one eveningthrough the fine avenue of oaks, which led to the front entrance of thedemesne, when a pony rushed past us at full gallop. A boyish impulse, tempted me to give a loud halloo, in order to set the beautiful animaloff at its wildest speed. In a few minutes we met a lad of my own age, booted and spurred, with a whip in his hand, running in the samedirection the pony had taken. He was in a towering passion, and comingup to us, he cried out, with a menacing air--

"'You impudent rascal! how dared you to shout in that way, to frightenmy horse, when you saw me endeavouring to catch him?'

"'I saw no such thing, ' I replied, drily. 'I admired the pony, andshouted to see how much faster he could run. '

"'You deserve a good thrashing, ' quoth he. 'Go and catch the horse forme, or I will complain to Sir Alexander of your conduct. '

"'Sir Alexander is not my master, neither are you. I shall do no suchthing. '

"'Do it instantly!' stamping with his foot. 

"'Do it yourself. You look quite as fit for a groom as I do. '

"I tried to pass him, but he stepped into the centre of the path, andhindered me. To avoid a collision was now impossible. 

"'You insolent young blackguard!' he cried, 'do you know that you arespeaking to a gentleman?'

"'_Indeed!_' I said, with a provoking smile. 'I ought to thank youfor the information, for I never should have suspected the fact. '

"With a yell of rage, he struck me in the face with the butt end of hiswhip. I sprang upon him with the strength of a tiger, and seizing hispuny form in my arms, I dashed him beneath my feet, and after bestowingupon him sundry hearty kicks, rejoined the terrified Alice, and leftMr. Theophilus Moncton, to gather up his fallen dignity, and make thebest of his way home to the Hall. 

"This frolic cost me far more than I expected. The next morning, SirAlexander rode over to the Lodge, and severely reprimanded me for myconduct; and ended his lecture, by affirming in positive terms, that ifI did not beg his young relative's pardon, he would withdraw his favourfrom me for ever. 

"This, I proudly refused to do--and the Baronet as proudly told me, 'Tosee his face no more!'

"I looked sorrowfully up as he said this. The tears were in my eyes, for I loved him very much--but my heart was too full to speak. 

"He leant down from his horse, expecting my answer. I was silent: thecolour mounted to his cheeks; he waited a few minutes longer; I made nosign, and he struck the spurs into his horse, and rode quickly away. 

"'There goes my only friend!' I cried. 'Curse the mean wretch, whorobbed me of my friend! I only regret that I did not kill him!'

"Thus for one boyish act of indiscretion I was flung friendless uponthe world. Yet, Geoffrey, were the thing to do again, I feel that Icould not, and would not, act otherwise. 

"Time has convinced me that Robert Moncton, acting with his usualpolicy, had made Sir Alexander ashamed of his connection with us, andhe gladly availed himself of the first plausible excuse to cast me off. Alice deeply lamented my disgrace; but the whole affair afforded mirthto my grandmother, who seemed greatly to enjoy my unfortunate triumphover the boy with the _hard name_. "

CHAPTER XVII. 

HARRISON FINDS A FRIEND IN NEED. 

"During my residence at school in York, my master was often visited bya wealthy merchant who bore the same name with myself. This man was anold bachelor, very eccentric, but universally esteemed as one of themost benevolent of men. He was present at one of the schoolexaminations in which I took many prizes, and asking my name he foundout that he was related to my father, and bestowed upon me many marksof favour, such as presenting me with useful books, and often asking meover to his house to dine, or spend the evening. 

"Flattered by his attentions to me, I had lost no opportunity ofincreasing our friendship, and I determined to apply to him in mypresent distress. 

"I was a perfect novice in the art of letter-writing, never havingpenned an epistle in my life, and after making several attempts withwhich I was perfectly disgusted, I determined to walk over to the cityand make my application in person to Mr. Mornington. 

"Without communicating my intentions to Alice, I carefully tied up achange of linen in a silk handkerchief, and with the mighty sum of fiveshillings in my pocket, commenced my pedestrian journey of thirty oddmiles. 

"I started in the morning by day-break, and without meeting with anyparticular adventures on the road, I arrived at six o'clock in theevening, foot-sore and weary at the rich man's door. When there, myheart, which had been as stout as a lion's on the road, failed me, andI sat down upon the broad stone steps that led up to the house, sorelydepressed and uncertain what course to take. 

"This I knew would not do: the night was coming on, and the rain, whichhad threatened all day, now began to fall fast. Making a desperateeffort, I sprang up the steps, and gave a gentle knock, so gentle thatit was unheard; and unable to summon sufficient courage to repeat theexperiment, I resumed my seat until some more fortunate applicantshould seek admittance. 

"Not many minutes elapsed before the quick loud rap of the postmanbrought Mrs. Jolly, the housekeeper, to the door; and edging close tohim of the red jacket, I asked in a tremulous voice--'If Mr. Morningtonwas at home?'

"'Why, dearee me, master Philip, is that you?' said the kind woman, elevating her spectacles: 'who would have thought of seeing yout'night?'

"'Who, indeed! But, my dear Mrs. Jolly, is Mr. Mornington disengaged, and can I see him?'

"'He is t'home, and you can speak to him, but not just now. He's to hisdinner, and doan't like to be disturbed. But come this way, an I'lltell him you are here. '

"'Who's that you are speaking to, Mrs. Jolly?' cried my worthy oldfriend as we passed the dining-room door, through which the footmenwere carrying an excellent dinner to table. 

"'Only Mr. Philip, sir. '

"'Mr. Philip!' and the next moment, the old man came out and grasped mewarmly by the hand. 'Why, lad, what brings you back to school sosoon--tired of play already, hey?'

"'No, sir. I fear play will soon tire of me. I am to go to school nomore. '

"'Sorry to hear that, Phil. Just the time when instruction would be ofthe most service to you. You would learn more in the ensuing year, thanin all that have gone before it. Leave school! no, no, I must see youthe head boy in it yet. '

"'That was my ambition, sir. But you know I am only a poor orphan lad, entirely dependent on the bounty of Sir Alexander Moncton. I haveoffended this gentleman, and he will do no more for me; and I walkedfrom the Park to-day to ask your advice as to what course I had betterpursue, and in what way I am most likely to earn my own living. '

"The old gentleman looked grave. 

"'Offended Sir Alexander? You must have acted very imprudently to dothat, and he so kind to you. Walked all the way from Moncton. Bless theboy, how tired and hungry you must be! Sit down, young PhilipMornington, and get your dinner with old Philip Mornington; and we willtalk over these matters by and by. '

"Gladly I accepted the dear old gentleman's hearty invitation. I hadnot tasted food since early dawn, and was so outrageously hungry andeat with such a right good will, that he often stopped and laughedheartily at my voracity. 

"'Well done, Philip! Don't be ashamed: hold in your plate for anotherslice of beef. Thirty miles of hard walking at this season of the year, may well give a boy of sixteen, strong and healthy like you, a goodappetite. '

"After the cloth was drawn, and the old gentleman had refreshed me witha couple of glasses of excellent wine, obedient to his request Irelated to him my adventure with Theophilus Moncton in the park, andits unfortunate results. 

"Instead of blaming me, the whole affair seemed greatly to amuse thehearty old man. He fell back in his chair, and chuckled and laugheduntil he declared that his sides ached. 

"'And was it for punishing that arrogant puppy as he deserved, that SirAlexander cast you, my fine fellow, from his favour?'

"'He might have forgiven that. It was for refusing so positively hiscommands, in not asking young Moncton's pardon. '

"'If you had obeyed him in this instance, Philip, you would haveforfeited my good opinion for ever, and would have deserved to havebeen kicked by Sir Alexander's lackeys for your meanness. Don't look socast down, boy. I honour you for your self-respect and independence. You have other friends besides Sir Alexander Moncton, who will notforsake you for taking your own part like a man. You shall go to schoolyet--ay, and become the head scholar in Dr. Trimmer's head class, andfinish your education at Oxford, or my name is not Philip Mornington. '

"How well did this excellent, warm-hearted, generous man perform hispromise; how ill I profited by the education he gave me, and the wealthhe bequeathed to me at his death, the subsequent portion of my historywill reveal. 

"I went to school at the end of the vacation, but as a day-boarder; Mr. Mornington, having told me to consider his house as my future home. 

"A boy who came from our village to Dr. Trimmer's school, told me thatSir Alexander's passion soon cooled, and he rode over to the Lodge aweek after I left, to inquire after his old pet, and was surprised andexasperated to find the bird flown, and taken by the hand by a man forwhom he had a great personal antipathy; who had ever opposed him inpolitics, and had twice carried an election against him. 

"There was enough of revenge in my composition to feel glad that SirAlexander was annoyed at my good-fortune. 

"The next year saw me at college, with a handsome allowance from mygenerous patron, to enable me to establish my claims as a gentleman. Iwill pass over the three years I spent at this splendid abode oflearning and science. 

"The gratitude I felt for all Mr. Mornington had done for me, for along time restrained me from indulging in the wild excesses whichdisgraced the conduct of most of the young men with whom I associated. This reluctance, however, to do and countenance evil, gradually woreoff, and I became as wild and dissipated as my companions. 

"I formed many agreeable acquaintances at college, but had only one whoreally deserved the name of a friend. Kind, gentle and studious, Cornelius Laurie (for so I shall call him) mingled very little with hisfellow students: his health being delicate, he spent most of hisleisure hours in walking, an exercise of which he was particularlyfond, and in which generally participated. 

"His mild, intelligent countenance first won my regard. I sought hisacquaintance, found him easy of access, friendly and communicative, andalways anxious to oblige every one as far as lay in his power. Commanding an excellent income, he was always ready to assist theimprovident who had expended theirs, and with such a disposition, youmay be certain that the calls upon his purse were by no means few. Heformed a strong attachment to me, and we usually spent most of our timetogether. 

"Cornelius invited me to pass the Christmas vacation with him in town. When at home he resided with his aunt, a widow lady who had brought uphis only sister, who had been left an orphan at a very early age. Charlotte Laurie was several years younger than her brother; and inspeaking of her he had always told me that she was a very pretty girl, but I was not prepared to behold the beautiful and fascinating creatureto whom I was introduced. 

"Charlotte Laurie was a child of nature, without display oraffectation; conscious of her great personal attractions only so far asto render her more agreeable--for what beautiful woman was everignorant of her charms? My pretty Lotty knew perfectly the power theygave her over the restless and inconstant heart of man, but she did notabuse it. 

"My passions, Geoffrey, by nature, are as warm and impetuous as yourown, and they soon betrayed me into love; and I thought that the fairgirl to whom I had lost my heart was not insensible to the passion shehad inspired. But when I recalled my obscure parentage, of whichCornelius was perfectly ignorant; and the uncertainty of my futureprospects, I felt that it would be dishonourable in me to advance mysuit to the young lady. To remain in the house and keep silent upon asubject so important to my peace, I found would be impossible; and Ifeigned a letter from Mr. Mornington, whom I called my uncle, requiringmy immediate presence in York. 

"My departure caused great regret to the family. Corneliusremonstrated; Mrs. H---- questioned the necessity of my journey;Charlotte said nothing, but left the room in tears. Strongly tempted asI was to stay, I remained firm to my original purpose, and bade adieuto my amiable friends, without breathing a word even to Cornelius of myattachment for his sister. 

"On my way to York I called at my old home, and was received with themost lively demonstrations of joy by Alice, whom I found a bloominggirl of fifteen. Old Dinah told me, as she scowled at my handsome dressand improved appearance, 'That she supposed I was now too fine agentleman to call her grandmother, or Alice sister?'

"I assured her that my improved circumstances had not changed my heart, nor made me ashamed of my old friends. Something, I fear, in my looks, contradicted my words, for she turned from me with a scornful smile:

"'The world, ' said she, 'was a good school for teaching people the artof falsehood. '

"Her sarcasms made me very uncomfortable--for my conscience convictedme of their truth--and turning to Alice I begged her to tell me thenews, for I was certain a great deal must have happened in theneighbourhood during the four years I had been absent. 

"'No, ' said Alice; 'we go on much as usual. Sir Alexander and Margaretare very kind to me, and I go every day up to the Hall. But she is MissMoncton now, and I am plain Alice Mornington. Mr. Theophilus is oftenthere; and he is so much improved, Philip, you would never know him. Heis no longer proud and disagreeable, but so affable and kind, andalways sees me safe home to the Lodge. People say that he is to marryMiss Moncton; but I don't believe a word of it. He does not love her Iam certain; for he told me so a few days ago; and that he thought me athousand times handsomer than his cousin!'

"While Alice ran on thus, I kept my eyes fixed upon her beautiful face;and from the heightening of her colour when speaking of Theophilus, Iwas convinced that young as she was, she was not insensible to hisflattery. Anxious to warn her of her danger, I drew her arm throughmine, and we strolled together into the park. 

"'Dear Alice, ' said I, affectionately; 'do you love your brother aswell as you used to do in years long past?'

"'Philip, do you doubt my love?' she answered, reproachfully. 

"'Not in the least, Alice. I know your heart to be warm and true; butyears make great changes. Four years have fled away since we met, andyou are nearly grown into a woman. Perhaps you will be angry with me ifI venture to give you a little brotherly advice. '

"'Not without you scold me too much. '

"'My lecture, Alice, I will confine to a few words. Do not listen, dearchild, to the flattering speeches of Theophilus Moncton. He means youno good. '

"'How can you know that?' she said, quickly. 

"'From the general character which the man bears. From my experience ofhim when a boy. Avoid his company; he means to deceive you. '

"'Philip, you wrong him, indeed, you do!' she cried, with flashingeyes. 'He never talks to me of love, he only seeks to be my friend. Iam too young to think of love. I don't know what being in love is--butI do feel very grateful to one so much richer and better than me, andwho is heir to all these beautiful groves, and that fine old Hall, taking such an interest in my welfare--particularly, ' she added, withgreat emphasis on her words, 'after he received such unworthy treatmentfrom a brother of mine. '

"'You surely do not mean what you say, Alice?'

"'I never say what I do not mean; and if you come back to us, Philip, only to quarrel with us, you had better have stayed away. '

"For a few minutes I felt terribly annoyed; but when I recollected thatthese words fell from the lips of a spoilt child, I restrained myanger, in the hope of saving her from the ruin I feared might beimpending over her. 

"'Alice, you are a simple, little girl; as such I forgive you. You arenot aware of the danger to which you are exposed. Young people are soignorant of the treachery of the world, and so confident in their ownstrength to resist temptation, that they easily fall into the snareslaid for them by wicked and designing men. If you persist in receivingthe attentions of this man, who would consider it the utmostdegradation to make you his wife, I, as your brother and naturalprotector, will consider it my duty to remove you from this place. '

"'I will not go!' she cried; stopping suddenly and looking me in theface with an air of defiance. 'You are not your own master yet, muchless mine. I shall remain here with my dear, old grandmother, as longas she lives. And let me tell you, Mr. Philip, I am as competent tomanage my own affairs as you are!'

"Could this be Alice?

"I looked at her, and looked again. The beauty of her countenanceseemed changed. I turned from her with a deep sigh. 

"'Oh, Alice, sister Alice! I tremble for you; so young and soself-willed. This is not my Alice, the happy, confiding Alice, who onceloved me so tenderly. '

"'I did love you, Philip, very much, ' she replied, in a softened voice;'but how was my love returned? You quarrelled with the only friend wehad in the world. One, too, who had done so much for us. To whosebounty we were indebted for a home and daily bread; for the clothes wewore, for the instruction we received--who treated us in every respectmore like his own children, than the poor recipients of his noblegenerosity. You forgot all this. You insolently refused to apologize tohis young relative, the heir of his title and wealth, for havinggrossly insulted him, and left your home and his protection withoutbidding this dear sister, for whose well-doing you are so deeplyconcerned, and who shared in your disgrace, one short farewell. '

"'Alice--Alice!'

"'Hush, sir; hear me to the end, if you please. You acted moreungratefully still, when you sought employment from one of SirAlexander's bitterest enemies; and never wrote a single line either toyour injured patron or to us. Was this love? Young as I am, PhilipMornington, I could not have been guilty of such baseness. I despiseyour conduct; and advice comes very ill from a person who could beguilty of such. '

"She turned haughtily away; and I, Geoffrey, I stood overwhelmed withconfusion and remorse. I had never seen my conduct in this lightbefore. I had all along imagined myself the injured party, and lookedupon Sir Alexander as an unreasonable persecutor. But I felt at thatmoment, as I stood humbled before that proud girl, that I had not actedright--that some concession was due on my part to the man from whom Ihad received so many benefits; and but for very shame I would havesought his presence, acknowledged my error, and entreated his pardon. 

"Oh, why does this stubborn pride so often stand between us and ourbest intentions. I let the moment pass, and my heart remained true toits stern determination, not to yield one inch of what I falsely termedindependence. My reverie was dispelled by Alice. She took my handkindly. 

"'You look grave, Philip. I have put these serious thoughts into yourhead, and you feel sorry for the past. My anger is all gone. I forgiveyou from my very heart. So give me a kiss, and let us be friends; butno more lectures if you please for the future. I will not stand ascolding--not even from you. You need not fear that I shall disgraceyou: I am too proud to place myself in the power of any one. I like, yes, I love Theophilus Moncton, but he will never make a fool of me, orany one else. But--hush--here is Miss Moncton. '

"The blood crimsoned my face as a sudden turning in the woodland path, brought me within a few paces of one whom at that moment I would gladlyhave shunned. To retreat was impossible. I raised my hat, and with, herusual frankness, Margaret held out her hand. 

"I pressed it respectfully between my own without venturing to raise myeyes to her face. She perceived my confusion, and doubtless defined thecause. 

"'You have been a sad truant, Philip. But you are welcome home. I, forone, rejoice to see my dear foster-brother again. '

"'Is that possible?' I stammered out--'Dear Miss Moncton, I am only toohappy to be allowed to plead for myself--I feel that I have sinnedagainst my good and generous benefactor; that this kindness on yourpart, is wholly undeserved. What shall I do to regain your goodopinion. '

"'Say nothing at all about it, Geoffrey. It was a boyish fault, and myfather has often repented that he treated it so seriously. For my ownpart, I do not blame you for thrashing Theophilus; had I been provokedin the same manner, and a lad of your age, I would have done it myself. My quarrel with you, is for leaving the Park, and deserting us all, before a reconciliation could take place. You knew that my father'sanger was like dew upon the grass, evaporated by the first sunbeam, andthat we loved you dearly--so that your conduct appears inexcusable andheartless. '

"'Oh, do not say that, Miss Moncton. What I did was perfectlyimpulsive, without thought or premeditation. I could not imagine that Iwas in the wrong, and Sir Alexander's conduct appeared to me cruel andunjust. '

"'Come with me to the Hall, Mr. Mornington, and I will plead your caseto this cruel tyrant. My eloquence with papa is quite irresistible; andhe, poor dear, is more ready to forgive, than you are to askforgiveness. '

"This was said, with one of her bewitching smiles, which lighted uplike a passing sunbeam her calm, pale face. 

"'You are too good, Miss Moncton. I would gladly avail myself of yourinvitation, but I must proceed on my journey to York immediately. Ihope, however, soon to visit Moncton again; when I will, with SirAlexander's permission, explain my conduct, and ask his pardon. '

"'I hate procrastination in these matters, which pertain to the heartand conscience, ' said Margaret. 'My motto, when prompted by either, toperform an act of duty, is--_now_; when we seek forgiveness from God, or from a friend, we should never defer it to the future, for theopportunity once neglected may never again be ours. '

"This was said with some severity. A sort of mental cowardice kept meback and hindered me effectually from profiting by her advice. Justthen, I felt it was out of my power to meet Sir Alexander. I had notcourage to enter his presence in my present mood. 

"'Alice, ' said Margaret, turning from me with a disappointed air, 'whathas kept _you_ so long away from the Hall?'

"'I grow too proud to visit my rich friends, ' returned Alice, in a tonebetween sarcasm and raillery. 

"'There is only one species of pride, that I tolerate, ' said Margaret, calmly--'the pride of worth. That pride which enables a good man tostruggle successfully against the arrogance of the world. '

"I turned to the speaker with admiration. Had she been born a peasant, Margaret Moncton would have possessed the dignity of a lady, and thelittle lecture she thought fit to bestow upon my beautiful waywardsister, was dictated by the same noble spirit. 

"'We should never be proud, Alice, of the gifts of nature, or fortune, which depend upon no merit of our own. Beauty and wealth have their dueinfluence in the world, where their value is greatly overrated; butthey add little in reality to the possessor. Deprived of both, personsof little moral worth, would relapse into their originalinsignificance; while those, who improve the talents entrusted to theircare by Providence, possess qualities which defy the power of change. Such persons can alone afford to be proud, yet these of all others makethe least display and think most humbly of themselves. '

"This was said playfully, but Alice did not at all relish the reproof;which, though, disregarded by her, made a deep impression upon me. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE MEETING. 

"The next morning I arrived in York, and hastened to the house of Mr. Mornington. I found the dear old gentleman ill in bed, but in his usualexcellent spirits. 

"On expressing my concern for his illness, he laughed at my long face;told me it was a trifle, and he should soon be well again. Alas, he wasnot a true prophet! In a few weeks I followed my worthy friend to hisgrave; and found myself at the age of one-and-twenty, my own master, and sole heir to his large property. 

"The joy felt at this unexpected good fortune was more thancounterbalanced by the loss of the generous donor. Gladly would I haveresigned the wealth he so nobly bequeathed me, if by so doing I couldhave recalled the dear old man to life. I was detained for severalmonths in York, settling my affairs. I lost no time, however, inacquainting Cornelius, by letter, of my good fortune. I took thisopportunity of mentioning my attachment to his sister, and urged him, if he valued my happiness, to plead with her in my behalf. His answer, though kind, was far from satisfactory to a young and ardent lover. 

"He informed me that Charlotte was not insensible to my passion; andthat he knew that she entertained from me a sincere esteem; but it wasentirely out of her power to accept any offer of marriage without theconsent of her guardian; or she would lose the property bequeathed toher by her father; who had left this stringent clause in his will. 

"For himself, he continued, nothing would give him greater pleasure, than to see his beloved sister united to a man whom he loved, and whomhe considered worthy of her regard; particularly, as he found his ownhealth daily declining, and was about to take a journey to the south ofFrance, in the hope of deriving some benefit from change of climate andscene. 

"He urged me to return immediately to London; to plead my own causewith Charlotte, and to spend a few days with him, before he leftEngland; as he felt, that it was more than probable, that we mightnever meet again. 

"The last mournful sentence decided me, and the next morning found meon the road to London; and I determined to take Moncton Park in myroute, and seek a reconciliation with Sir Alexander. After what hadpassed between me and Miss Moncton, I flattered myself that this wouldbe an easy matter. 

"I was no longer a poor orphan boy, dependent upon his bounty; but awell-educated, wealthy man, whose fortune was equal, if not greaterthan his own. There was no favour I could ask, or that he could bestow, beyond the renewal of that friendship which formed the delight of myboyhood, and of which I had been so suddenly deprived. 

"As I rode up the noble avenue of oaks which led to the Hall, I felt soconfident of success, so vain of my altered fortunes, so proud of thenoble horse I rode, that my spirits grew buoyant, and my cheeks glowedwith anticipated pleasure. 

"'Is Sir Alexander at home?' I eagerly demanded of the liveried servantthat opened the door. 

"'He is, sir. What name shall I send up?' I gave him my card, and wasshown into the library, while he carried it up to his master. 

"Years had fled away, since I last stood within that room, a happythoughtless boy. How vividly did every book and picture recall theblessed hours I had passed there, with Margaret and Alice, when theweather was wet, and we could not play abroad! It was in thisapartment, with its carved oak wainscoting and antique windows ofstained glass, in which we generally held our revels, turning over thehuge folios in search of pictures. 

"There was the Book of Martyrs, with all its revolting details of humanbigotry; and its dreadful exhibitions of human endurance amidst scornand agony. On these we gazed in mysterious awe; and as we turned overthe horrible pages, we said to one another, 'that we were glad we werenot Christians in those days. '

"Then, there was Descartes' ancient philosophy. A huge tome, full ofquaint pictures of gods and goddesses, and angels and devils, on whichwe were never tired or gazing; infinitely preferring the latter, withtheir curious tails and horns, to the former; whom we called, 'Fatlazy-looking children with wings. ' 'Goldsmith's World, ' 'Buffon'sNatural History, ' and the whole family of Encyclopedias, with theirnumerous prints, were among our chief favourites, and helped to beguilethe long wet day. Sir Alexander often assisted himself at theseexhibitions, and seemed as much pleased with showing us the pictures aswe were in looking at them. 

"From the cherished memories of former years, I was recalled by theentrance of the servant, who, with an air of rude familiarity, toldme--'that Sir Alexander Moncton would never be at home to _MisterPhilip Mornington_. '

"Thunder-struck with this unexpected blow, and writhing under a bittersense of humiliation, I affected an air of contemptuous indifferenceand turned to depart; when a light grasp was laid upon my arm, and Iencountered the dark soul-lighted eyes of Margaret Moncton, moistenedwith tears, and fixed upon me with a gaze of mournful interest, "'Stay, Mr. Mornington. Dear, Philip! stay, I beseech you, for onelittle moment. '

"'Let me go, Miss Moncton. You deceived me into the belief that myreception would have been very different--I feel that I have nobusiness here. '

"'That was your own fault, in deferring the _now_ of to-day, to the_future_ of the unknown to-morrow, ' said Margaret, sadly. 'But you muststay; I insist upon your hearing me speak a few words before you leavethis house. '

"I remained silent and passive, and she continued--'There was a time, Philip, when your sister Margaret would not have asked anything of youin vain. ' The tears flowed fast down her pale cheeks, and I felt thesmall hand which lay on mine tremble violently. 

"'Dear Miss Moncton, ' said I, gently leading her to a seat, and takingone beside her, 'you must make some allowance for mortified pride andwounded feelings. Time has not in the least diminished the affectionand respect I have ever felt for you, and which your present kindnessis not at all likely to lessen. I should, however, be deeply concerned, if your condescension should draw down upon you the displeasure of yourfather. '

"'Philip, I never do aught which I should be ashamed of my fatherwitnessing. Nothing would give me greater pleasure, than to see himenter this room; and it is to lead you to him, that brought me here. '

"'He has once forbidden me his presence, ' cried I, rising from my seat;'I shall seek an interview with him no more. '

"'Let me seek it for you. '

"'What good would it answer?'

"Can you ask that question, Mr. Mornington? Remember all you owe to myfather's kindness. I do not want to reproach you with benefits which hefelt pleasure in conferring. But surely some feeling of gratitude isdue from one whom he loved for so many years as a son; whom I amcertain he still loves; whom, if he could once see, would be as dear tohim as ever. '

"'Could I feel that his anger was just, there is no concession, howevergreat, Miss Moncton, that I would hesitate to make: I love and revereSir Alexander, but he has taken up idle prejudices against me, and I amtoo proud--obstinate, if you will--to ask his forgiveness for what Inever can look upon as a fault. '

"'One would think, Philip, that you were a Moncton, so hard andobdurate are their hearts, ' said Margaret, weeping afresh. 'How gladlywould I be the peacemaker, and reconcile you to each other, but youlove strife for its own sake--are too proud to acknowledge an error. Philip, ' she cried, passionately, 'do you remember my mother?'

"She had struck a chord which always vibrated intensely in my heart. 'How can I ever forget her? And yet, Miss Moncton, dear Miss Moncton, Ido not wonder at your asking the question. '

"As I said this tears rushed to my own eyes, as a thousand sadrecollections crowded into my mind. The mournful chamber--the bed ofdeath--the calm, sweet face of the expiring saint; and her last solemninjunction, for me to look upon her grave when I came to be a man, andremember her who had loved me as a son. Had I done this? Oh, no! Theworld had obliterated her pure and holy image from my mind, and all hertenderness and love had been forgotten. 

"I stood there before her daughter, whose mind was a perfect transcriptof her own, a stricken, self-condemned creature, overcome by emotionswhich I struggled in vain to repress. 

"Margaret perceived the advantage she had gained, and taking my passivehand led me from the room. 

"Slowly we paced, up the marble staircase into the drawing-room, wherewe found Sir Alexander reading at a table. He did not raise his head aswe entered; and I could not help remarking the great change which a fewyears had effected in his appearance. His fine chestnut hair was nearlygray, his cheeks had lost the rich vermilion tint which had alwaysgiven such lustre to his fine dark eyes, and clear olive complexion. Hewas much thinner, and his lofty figure had taken a decided stoopbetween the shoulders. The handsome, generous baronet was but the wreckof what he once had been. 

"'Papa, ' said Margaret, stepping forward, and laying her small whitehand upon his shoulder, 'I have taken the liberty of introducing a veryold friend. '

"The baronet raised his eyes. The blood rushed into his pale face, ashe replied with great asperity of look and tone, 'Margaret, you havetaken an unfair advantage, and abused the confidence I reposed in you;I did not expect this from you. '

"'Dearest father, you have suffered my cousin Theophilus to prejudiceyou against one whom you once loved--whom my dear mother loved: let himspeak for himself. '

"'Well, sir, ' said the Baronet, holding out his hand, 'what have you tosay in extenuation of your past conduct? You found it convenient, nodoubt, to forget an old friend. '

"'My excellent, kind benefactor, ' I cried, pressing his hand warmlybetween my own, 'how can you imagine me guilty of such baseingratitude?'

"'I judge your feelings, young man, by deeds, not by words. It is notfor a boyish act of indiscretion I blame you. You thrashed an insolentlad of your own age for insulting you; and in your place I would havedone the same. To appease his wounded pride, I demanded of you anapology, as the lad was my guest and near kinsman--no very greatsacrifice of pride, one would have thought, to a penniless pensioner onmy bounty. This, you audaciously refused, and, without waiting for myanger to cool (for I was not acquainted at the time with the realcircumstances of the case) you abandoned your home, and soughtprotection in the house of my enemy--a man who had thwarted me in everyway which lay in his power. His favour you gained by traducing yourbenefactor and friend; and you now come to me, after the lapse ofyears, to make a boast of your wealth. Philip Mornington!' he cried, rising from his seat, and drawing himself up to his full height, 'Iloved you as a spirited, independent boy: I despise you, as a wealthy, treacherous, vain-glorious man!'

"'Dear papa, ' said Margaret, greatly agitated, 'you cannot mean whatyou say. '

"'I do mean what I say. My words are plain and straightforward; let himrefute them if he can. '

"'To such accusations as you have brought against me, Sir Alexander, there can be but one answer: they are false! I will not, however, lessen myself by attempting to vindicate my conduct from such basecalumnies, but leave it to time to convince you of your error, andprove my integrity. '

"Without waiting for his reply, I left the room, with a bearing ashaughty and inflexible as his own, and flinging myself into the saddle, rode from the Hall. Disgusted with myself for having yielded to theentreaties of my amiable foster-sister, I could not master myindignation sufficiently to call at the Lodge, but pursued my journeyto town with a heavy heart. 

"From Cornelius and his sister I received the most cordial andaffectionate welcome; but my pleasure was greatly damped by the badstate of my friend's health: he looked so thin and consumptive, that Iapprehended the worst. This impression gradually wore off; but a fewmonths confirmed my fears. He was to commence his journey to Doverearly the next morning; and after passing a delightful evening incompany with his aunt and Charlotte, I rose to take leave, as I wellknew that my invalid friend retired at an early hour to bed. 

"'Do not go to-night, Philip, ' said he. 'It is the last we shall spendfor a long time together. I wish to have a friendly chat with you in mydressing-room. Charlotte will make one of the party. '

"In a few minutes we were comfortably seated in the snug little room, before a cheerful fire. My friend in his easy-chair, wrapped in hisdressing-gown, and my own beautiful Charlotte seated on agaily-embroidered ottoman at his feet. 

"'Here, I feel myself at home, ' said Cornelius, taking a hand of each, pressing them warmly between his own. 'How much I dread this journey!how painful it is to part with all we love on earth!'

"'Dearest brother, you will return to us quite strong and well afterbreathing the warm air of the south, ' said Charlotte, who could neverbe brought to consider her brother in any danger. 'When we meet in thespring, you win laugh at your present fears, and we shall be so happytogether. '

"Cornelius smiled faintly. 'I hope it may be so, my sweet Charlotte; tothat hope I cling, though I feel it daily becoming more feeble. Norwould I leave England, did I not consider it my duty to embrace everymeans which may tend to restore me to health and usefulness. But if Ishould never return, my little Lady Bird, the world will run on asmerrily as heretofore. I should only be missed by a few faithfulhearts. '

"Poor Charlotte did not answer. Her head sank upon his knee; and Ithought I heard the tears, one by one, fall upon her rich silk dress. 

"'Do not anticipate grief, my little sister, ' said he, laying his handcaressingly upon her drooping head. 'Let us be happy to-night, for weknow not what the morrow may bring forth. I wanted to speak to you andPhilip upon a subject very near my heart. '

"After a short pause, he continued with a lively, cheerful voice--'Youand Philip love one another; nay, do not turn away, Charlotte; thereought to be no shame in confessing a virtuous attachment to a worthyobject. '

"Charlotte raised her eyes, moist with tears, and tried to smile; buther head sank back to its resting place, and her blushing face washidden on his knee. 

"'Now I am perfectly satisfied of the warmth and sincerity of youraffections, and will do all in my power to bring them to a happy issue;but there are some difficulties in the way which must first besurmounted, before you can hope to realize your wishes. You havewealth, Philip, and moral worth; these ought to be sufficient tosatisfy the objections of the most fastidious. But your birth isobscure, and your connexions not such as most old families would wishto incorporate with their own. You will ask me how I came by thisknowledge. It does not matter; for these worldly objections have noweight with me. It was, however, told to me by one well acquainted withyour history--who, as a guardian to Charlotte, will, I fear, neverconsent to your marriage. '

"'There are few persons with whom I am sufficiently intimate to obtainthis knowledge, ' I cried. 'His name--tell me his name. '

"'Robert Moncton--Sir Alexander's cousin and man of business. '

"I felt a cold shudder thrill through me. The hopes lately so gay andbuoyant shrunk back faded and blackened to my heart. 'Yet why should Ifear this man?' I argued; but I did fear him--like the ghost of thedead Cęsar in the camp of Brutus: he was my evil genius. I turned veryfaint and asked for a glass of water. 

"Charlotte gave it to me with a trembling hand. The brother and sisterexchanged glances of surprise; suspicion was aroused by my emotion. 

"'Strange!' said Charlotte, musingly: 'he was always kind to my brotherand me. What have you to say against him?'

"'Not much; but I have a secret antipathy, a horror of this man, thoughI never saw him but once, and that when quite a boy. I had a quarrelwith his son when a lad, which produced a rupture between Sir Alexanderand me, and neither father nor son ever forgave the imagined injury. '

"Charlotte looked thoughtful. It was evident that she was fond of herguardian; while Cornelius continued the conversation, which was to meboth painful and embarrassing. 

"I know Mr. Moncton to be implacable when he takes a dislike, andconsiders himself ill-used, but we always have regarded him as a justand honest man. The circumstances at which you have hinted, and which Iam rather surprised, that with all our brotherly intercourse, you nevermentioned before, will not increase your chance of success in gaininghim over to your wishes. But if I live, Philip, you will have little tofear from his opposition. Charlotte and myself are both above thecommon prejudices of the world, and prize you for your worth, which weconsider more than places you on an equality with us, and my littlesister here (and he fondly patted her head) has too high a sense ofhonour to encourage hopes which she never meant to realize. '

"I took Charlotte's hand--our eyes met. Her face was again hidden onher brother's knee; but my drooping heart began to revive, and I turnedto listen to the long harangue of my good friend with more interest andattention, especially, as Charlotte's small white hand remained firmlyclasped in mine, to repay me for its dullness and prolixity. 

"Now, my advice to you both is, not to enter into any engagement, andto keep the matter of your affections known only to yourselves. Confidence reposed in a third party is always hazardous, and generallybetrayed. This will lull Moncton's suspicions, for he can greatly annoyyou, should you marry Charlotte without his consent, before herminority expires. Her property, which is considerable, would then go toa distant relation. '

"'I have enough to support us both handsomely--why should our union bedelayed on that score?' I cried. 

"'Softly, my dear friend. Lovers always talk in that strain--husbandsthink differently. Why should Charlotte lose her just inheritance togratify the ardour of your passion? You are both young: Charlotte fartoo young to marry. Four years is not such a great while to wait. Atthe expiration of that time you can meet on equal terms, without makingsuch an enormous sacrifice. Am I not right?'

"We said he was, and tried to think so; but I am certain that in theestimation of both his listeners, that that four years which seemed tohim so short, with us spread over a period as long as the life ofMethusalah. We tried to look forward, but shrunk back to the present. Everything in prospective looked cold, blank--nay, even ugly and old, at the end of the long vista of four years. 

"We promised, however, to abide by his advice. I was sad andlow-spirited; and Charlotte, pleading a bad head-ache, kissed herbrother, received one from me, or, what in _his_ estimation, onlypassed for _one_, and retired in tears, and I felt that the joy of myheart had vanished. 

"'Do not look so grave, Philip, ' said my worthy friend: 'you willovercome all these difficulties. '

"I shook my head, and sighed doubtfully. 

"'I am sure you will. I have a presentiment to that effect. I saw youin a dream last night, surrounded by a thousand dangers. As fast as yougot out of some trouble, you fell into a worse, and after I had givenyou up for lost, you were rescued from the fangs of a tiger by a merelad, who led you back to Charlotte, and joined your hands. '

"He told this with such earnestness, that I, who was no believer insigns and omens, laughed outright. 

"He looked serious--almost offended. 

"'You forget, ' he said, 'that when man draws near his end, God oftenopens the eyes of the soul, and reveals not only what is, but whatshall be. Oh, Philip, you who are so eager to win the affections of atimid girl, how can you be so indifferent to the love of God?'

"'Nervous debility has rendered you superstitious, Cornelius. I have nofaith in the religious cant of the present day, in priests orpriestcraft. '

"This was my case two years ago. I was young and strong then. In thepossession of wealth and all those temporal blessings, for which wiserand better men have to toil through a long life, and seldom obtain. Theworld was before me, and death far distant, in my thoughts. But now, the world is receding, and death is very near. You start! Have not youdiscovered that truth before? Soon, very soon, nothing will remain forme, but that blessed hope which I now prize as the only true riches. Iam happy in the prospect which I know awaits me, and consider thoseonly miserable to whom God is a stranger, and the love of the Saviourunknown. '

"His words affected me strangely, and yet I felt that they weredistasteful. Sorrow had not taught me the knowledge of self. I had yetto learn that religion alone can do that. My soul was grovelling in thedust; my thoughts wholly engrossed by the world. Religion was to me awell-invented fable, skillfully constructed, and admirably told, beingbeautiful and artistic in a literary point of view, but altogether tooshallow to satisfy the reason of a clever fellow like me. Oh! howrepugnant are its pure precepts to those whose hearts are blinded byvanity; who live but for the pleasures of the day, and never heed theto-morrow in the skies. 

"I sat down at a table near my friend, and began hastily to turn overthe pages of a volume which lay before me. It contained the admirablewritings of the Rev. Robert Hall. I pettishly closed the book, andpushed it from me. 

"As I raised my head, our eyes met. He evidently read my thoughts. 

"'I do not wish to lecture you, Philip, nor do I condemn you. Yourmind, in its present unawakened state, cannot understand the sublimetruths you affect to despise. The blind see not; they cannot comprehendthe light, and we are not surprised that they stumble and fall. But Ilove you too well, Philip, to wish you to remain in this state ofmental darkness. Read the Bible with the eyes of faith; think and pray, and the true light will dawn upon your soul, as it has on mine. Let notthe ravings of fanaticism, nor the vulgarity of low cant, frighten youfrom the enjoyment of the highest and noblest privilege granted toman--the capacity of holding converse with his God. And, now, farewell, my dear friend. I shall see you again in the morning; think over twicewhat I have said to you before you go to sleep. '

"I retired to my chamber, but not to rest. I sat before the fire, musing over, and trying to feel an interest in, the advice of myfriend; I knew it was good; I felt it was right and very natural, forCornelius, in his diseased state, to regard it as a subject of vitalimportance, to cherish it as the last hope which could beguile hismind, and reconcile him, to the awful and mysterious change whichawaited him. 'Poor Cornelius, ' said I, 'dying men catch at straws! Willyour straw float you safely across the waves of the dark river? I fearnot. ' And in this mood I went to bed, dreamt of Charlotte, and awoke inthe morning to regret the long years which must intervene before shecould be mine. "

END OF VOL. I. 

LONDON:Printed by Shulze and Co. , 13, Poland Street.