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1859.)
What will he do with it 1-Part the Last.

5 “ You do! Oh, Mr Darrell, how I attempt to determine; yet I thought honour you!"

I had no option but the course I had “Nay, I no more deserve honour taken. No; it is fair to yourself to for consenting than I should have give you the chief credit ; you made deserved contempt if I had continued me desire, you made me resolve, to to refuse. To do what I deemed find an option-I have found one. right is not more my wish now than And now pay your visit where mine it was twelve hours ago. To what has been just paid. It will be three so sudden a change of resolve in one days, I suppose, before Lionel, havwho changes resolves very rarely, ing joined his new regiment at * may be due, whether to Lady Mont- can be here. And then it will be fort, to Alban, or to that metaphysi- weeks yet, I believe, before his regi

Ι cal skill with which you wound into ment sails ;-and I'm all for short my reason, and compelled me to re- courtships.' view all its judgments, I do not

*

CHAPTER VI.

Fairthorn frightens Sophy. Sir Isaac is invited by Darrell, and forms one of

A Family Circle.

a

once more.

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Such a sweet voice in singing teeth like a wolf; and as she stood, breaks out from yon leafless beeches! mute with wonder, perhaps with Waife hears it at noon from his win- fright, he slunk edgeways off

, as if dow. Hark! Sophy has found song aware of his own murderous inclina

tions, turning his head more than She is seated on a garden bench, once, and shaking it at her; then, looking across the lake towards the with the wonted mystery which engloomy old manor house and the tall veloped his exits, he was gone ! spectre palace beside it. Mrs Morley vanished behind a crag, or amidst a is also on the bench, hard at work on bush, or into a hole-Heaven knows; her sketch; Fairthorn prowls through but, like the lady in the Siege of the thickets behind, wandering rest- Corinth, who warned the renegade less and wretched, and wrathful Alp of his approaching end, he was beyond all words to describe. He

gone." hears that voice singing; he stops Twice again that day Sophy enshort, perfectly rabid with indigna- countered the enraged musician ; tion. Singing,” he muttered,— each time the same menacing aspect “singing in triumph, and glowering and weird disappearance. at the very house she dooms to de- Is Mr Fairthorn ever a little struction. Worse than Nero striking - odd ?” asked Sophy timidly of his lyre amidst the conflagration of George Morley. Rome!”

Always," answered George dryly. By-and-by Sophy, who somehow Sophy felt relieved at that reply. or other cannot sit long in any place, Whatever is habitual in a man's and tires that day of any companion, manner, however unpleasant, is selwanders away from the lake, and dom formidable. Stíll Sophy could comes right upon Fairthorn. Hail- not help saying, -ing, in her unutterable secret bliss, “I wish poor Sir Isaac were here !" the musician who had so often joined “Do you ?” said a soft voice beher rambles in the days of unuttered hind her; "and, pray, who is Sir secret sadness, she sprang towards Isaac ?” him, with welcome and mirth in a The speaker was Darrell, who bad face that would have lured Diogenes come forth with the resolute intent out of his tub. Fairthorn recoiled to see more of Sophy, and make himsidelong, growling forth, “Don't- self as amiably social as he could. you had better not !"-grinned the Guy Darrell could never be kind by most savage grin, showing all his halves.

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“Sir Isaac is the wonderful dog an hour afterwards doe and dog are you have heard me describe," replied friends. George.

Waife is induced, without much “Would he hurt my doe, if he persuasion, to join the rest of the came here ?” asked Darrell.

party at dinner. In the evening, all “Oh, no,” cried Sophy; "he never (Fairthorn excepted) draw round the hurts anything. He once found a fire. Waife is entreated by George wounded hare, and he brought it in to read a scene or two out of Shakehis mouth to us so tenderly, and speare. He selects the latter portion seemed so anxious that we should of" King Lear.” Darrell, who never cure it, which grandfather did, and was a playgoer, and who, to his the hare would sometimes hurt him, shame be it said, had looked very but he never hurt the hare.”

little into Shakespeare since he left Said George sonorously,- college, was wonder-struck. He him

self read beautifully—all great oraIngenuas didicisse fideliter artes Emollit mores, nec sinit esse feros." tors, I suppose, do'; but his talent

was not mimetic-not imitative; he Darrell drew Sophy's arm into his could never have been an actor own. “Will you walk back to the never thrown himself into existences lake with me," said he, “and help wholly alien or repugnant to his me to feed the swans? George, send Grave or gay, stern or kind, your servant express for Sir Isaac. Guy Darrell, though often varying, I am impatient to make his acquaint- was always Guy Darrell. ance."

But when Waife was once in that Sophy's hand involuntarily pressed magical world of art, Waife was gone Darrell's arm. She looked up into nothing left of him ;- the part his face with innocent, joyous grati- lived as if there were no actor to it; tude ; feeling at once, and as by - it was the Fool-it was Lear. magic, that her awe of him was gone. For the first time Darrell felt what

Darrell and Sophy rambled thus a grand creature a grand actor really together for more than an hour. He is—what a luminous, unconscious crisought to draw out her mind, un- tic, bringing out beauties of which do aware to herself; he succeeded. He commentator ever dreamed! When was struck with a certain simple the reading was over, talk still poetry of thought which pervaded flowed ; the gloomy old hearth knew her ideas-not artificial sentiment- the charm of a hoine circle. All ality, but a natural tendency to de- started incredulous when the clock tect in all life a something of delicate struck one. Just as Sophy was passor beautiful which lies hid from the ing to the door, out from behind the ordinary sense. He found, thanks window-curtain glared a vindictive, to Lady Montfort, that, though far spiteful eye. Fairthorn made a mow from learned, she was more acquaint- at her, which 'tis a pity Waife did ed with literature than he had sup- not see, it would have been a study posed. And sometimes he changed for Caliban. She uttered a little colour, or breathed his short quick scream. sigh when he recognised her familiar- “What's the matter ?” cried the ity with passages in his favourite host. authors wbich he himself had com- “Nothing," said she quickly-far mended, or read aloud, to the Caro- too generous to betray the hostile line of old.

oddities of the musician. “Sir Isaac The next day, Waife, who seemed was in my way—that was all.” now recovered as by enchantment, "Another evening we must have walked forth with George, Darrell Fairthorn's flute, said Darrell. again with Sophy. Sir Isaac arrived “What a pity he was not here to--Immense joy; the doe butts Sir night !- he would have enjoyed such Isaac, who, retreating, stands on his reading—no one more.' hind-legs, and having possessed him- Said Mrs Morley—“He was here self of Waife's crutch, presents fire ; once or twice during the evening ; the doe in her turn retreats ;-half but he vanished !”

“Vanishing seems his forte,” said "No, George ; Fairthorn's foible is George.

vanishing; his forte is fidelity. If Darrell looked annoyed.

It was

my fortune were to vanish, Fairthorn his peculiarity to resent any jest would never disappear; and that's however slight, against an absent more than I would say if I were a friend ; and at that moment his King, and Fairthorn-a Bishop!” heart was perhaps more warmed After that extraordinary figure of towards Dick Fairthorn than to any speech, “Good-nights” were someman living. If he had not deter- what hastily exchanged; and Fairmined to be as amiable and mild thorn was left behind the curtain towards his guests as his nature with feelings towards all his master's would permit, probably George guests as little, it is to be hoped, like might have had the flip of a sar- those of a Christian Bishop towards casm which would have tingled for a his fellow-creatures, as they possibly month. But as it was, Darrell con- could be. tented himself with saying gravely

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CHAPTER VII.

“Domus et placens Uxor." Fairthorn finds nothing placens in the Uxor, to whom Domus is indebted for

its destruction.

Another day ! Lionel is expected to --paid his offering to the appeased arrive an hour or two after noon. Nemesis, in casting into the sea the Darrell is in his room-his will once thing that had been to him the more before him. He has drawn up dearest. a rough copy of the codicil by which But in resignation, when complete, Fawley is to pass away; and the there is always a strange relief. Dename of Darrell be consigned to the spite that melancholy, Darrell is care of grateful Learning, linked with less unhappy than he has been for prizes and fellowships ; - a public years. He feels as if a suspense had

-a property — lost for ever to private passed—a load been lifted from his representatives of its sepulchred breast. After all, he has secured, to bearers. Preparations for departure the best of his judgment, the happifrom the doomed dwelling-house have ness of the living, and, in relinquishbegun. There are large boxes on the ing the object to which his own life floor ; and favourite volumes-chief- has been vainly devoted, and imly in science or classics--lie piled molating the pride attached to it, he beside them for selection.

has yet, to use his own words, paid What is really at the bottom of his dues to the dead.' No descendGuy Darrell's heart? Does he feel ant from a Jasper Losely and a reconciled to his decision ? Is the Gabrielle Desmarets will sit as virtue of his new self-sacrifice in mistress of the house in which Loyalitself a consoling reward ? Is that ty and Honour had gamered, with cordial urbanity, that cheerful kind- the wrecks of fortune, the memories ness, by which he has been yet more of knightly fame-nor prepetuate the endearing himself to his guests, sin- name of Darrell through children cere or assumed ? As he throws aside whose blood has a source in the his pen, and leans his cheek on his sink of infamy and fraud. Nor was hand, the expression of his counte- this consolation that of a culpable nance may perhaps best answer those pride; it was bought by the abdicaquestions. It has more unmingled tion of a pride that had opposed its melancholy than was habitual to it prejudices to living worth-to living before, even when in his gloomiest happiness. Sophy would not be moods ; but it is a melancholy much punished for sins not her own-Lionel more soft and subdued; it is the not barred from a prize that earth melancholy of resignation—that of a never might replace. What matman who has ceased a long struggle tered to them a mouldering, old, deso

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late manor-house—a few hundreds of can suggest a thousand reasons for pitiful acres ? Their children would an old man's whim; and my manner not be less blooming if their holiday alone will dispel all idea of a covert summer noons were not shaded by affront to his charming innocent those darksome trees—nor less lively bride." of wit, if their school themes were “I wish she were hanged, with signed in the name, not of Darrell, all my heart,” muttered Fairthorn, but Haughton.

here to do such astonishing A slight nervous knock at the mischief! But, sir, I can't obey door. Darrell has summoned Fair- you ; 'tis no use talking. You must thorn; Fairthorn enters. Darrell get some one else. Parson Morley takes up a paper ;

it contains will do it-with pleasure, too, no minute instructions as to the demo- doubt ; or that hobbling old man, lition of the two buildings. The whom I suspect to be a conjuror. materials of the new pile may be Who knows but what he may get disposed of, sold, carted away-any; knockel on the head as he is looking how, anywhere. Those of the old on with his wicked one eye? and house are sacred-not a brick to be then there will be an end of him, carried from the precincts around it. too, which would be a great satisNo; from foundation to roof, all to faction !” be piously removed—to receive for- “Pshaw, my dear Dick ; there is mal interment deep in the still bosom no one else I can ask but you. The of the little lake, and the lake to be Parson would argue; I've had enough filled up and turfed over. The pic- of his arguings, and the old man is tures and antiquities selected for the the last whom my own arguings Darrell Museum are, of course, to be could deceive. Fiat justitia." carefully transported to London- “Don't sir, don't; you are breaking warehoused safely till the gift from my heart !—'tis a shame, sir," sobbed owner to nation be legally ratified. the poor faithful rebel. The pictures and articles of less value “Well, Dick, then I must see it will be sent to an auction. But when done myself ; and you shall go on it came to the old family portraits in first to Sorrento, and hire some villa the manor-house, the old homely to suit us. I don't see why Lionel furniture, familiarised to sight and should not be married next week; use and love from infancy, Darrell then the house will be clear. Andwas at a loss; his invention failed. yes—it was cowardly in me to shrink. That question was reserved for far- Mine be the task. Shame on me to ther consideration.

yield it to another. Go back to thy “And why,” says Fairthorn, blunt. Hute, Dick. ly and coarsely, urging at least re

Neque tibias prieve; “why, if it must be, not wait

Euterpe cohibet, nec Polyhymnia till you are no more? Why must the

Lesboum refugit tendere barbiton !” old house be buried before you are?”

“Because," answered Darrell, “such At that last remorseless shaft from an order, left by will, would seem a the Horatian quiver,

“ Venenatis reproach to my heirs ; it_would gravida sagittis," Fairthorn could wound Lionel to the quick. Done in stand ground no longer ; there was a my lifetime, and just after I have shamble—a plunge-and once more given my blessing on his marriage, I the man was vanished.

CHAPTER VIII.

The Flute-player shows how little Music hath power to soothe the savage breast-of

a Musician.

Fairthorn found himself on the had been discovered by Darrell. very spot in which, more than five There he threw himself on the ground, years ago, Lionel, stung by Fair- as the boy had done ; there, like the thorn's own incontinent prickles, boy, he brooded moodily, bitterly

sore with the world and himself. To of my sight ! You are standing
that letter, written on the day that between me and the old house-
Darrell had so shocked him, and on robbing me even of my last looks at
which letter he had counted as a last the home which you"
forlorn-hope, no answer had been SOPHY.-“ Which I-what?"
given. In an hour or so, Lionel FAIRTHORN.—“Don't, I say, don't
would arrive; those hateful nuptials, don't tempt me. You had better
dooming Fawley as the nuptials of not ask questions—that's all. I shall
Paris and Helen had doomed Troy, tell you the truth ; I know I shall ;
would be finally arranged. In an- my tongue is itching to tell it.
other week the work of demolition Please to walk on."
would commence. He never meant Despite the grotesque manner and
to leave Darrell to superintend that astounding rudeness of the flute-
work. No; grumble and refuse as player, his distress of mind was so
he might till the last moment, he evident — there was something so
knew well enough that, when it came genuine and earnest at the bottom
to the point, he, Richard Fairthorn, of his ludicrous anger—that Sophy
must endure any torture that could began to feel a vague presentiment
save Guy Darrell from a pang. A of evil. That she was the mysteri-
voice comes singing low through the ous cause of some great suffering to
grove—the patter of feet on the this strange enemy, whom she had
crisp leaves. He looks up; Sir Isaac unconsciously provoked, was clear;
is scrutinising him gravely--behind and she said, therefore, with more
Sir Isaac, Darrell's own doe, led gravity than she had before evinced-
patiently by Sophy,-yes, lending its “Mr Fairthorn, tell me how I have
faithless neck to that female crimi- incurred your displeasure. I entreat
nal's destroying hand. He could not you to do so; no matter how pain-
bear that sight, which added insult ful the truth may be, it is due to us
to injury. He scrambled up-dart- both not to conceal it.”
ed a kick at Sir Isaac - snatched A ray of hope darted through
the doe from the girl's hand, and Fairthorn's enraged and bewildered
looked her in the face (hernot mind. He looked to the right-he
Sophy, but the doe) with a looked to the left; no one near.
proach that, if the brute had not been Releasing his hold on the doe, he
lost to all sense of shame, would made a sidelong dart towards Sophy,
have cut her to the heart; then, and said, “ Hush ; do you really care
turning to Sophy, he said, “No, Miss ! what becomes of Mr Darrell ?"
I reared this creature-fed it with “ To be sure I do."
my own hands, Miss. I

gave
it up

“You would not wish him to die to Guy Darrell, Miss ; and you shan't broken-hearted in a foreign land steal this from him, whatever else that old house levelled to the ground, you may do, Miss.”

and buried in the lake ? Eh, Miss SOPHY.-"Indeed, Mr Fairthorn, -eh ?” it was for Mr Darrell's sake that Í “How can you ask me such wished to make friends with the doe tions?”, said Sophy, faintly. Do - as you would with poor Sir Isaac, speak plainly, and at once. if you would but try and like me—a “Well, I will, Miss. I believe you little, only a very little, Mr Fair are a good young lady, after all- , thorn."

and don't wish really to bring disFAIRTHORN. “ Don't!"

grace upon all who want to keep you SOPHY._“Don't what ? I am so in the dark, and—' sorry to see I have annoyed you “Disgrace !” interrupted Sophy ; somehow. You have not been the and her pure spirit rose, and the soft same person to me the last two or blue eye flashed a ray like a shootthree days. Tell me what I have ing-star. done wrong; scold me, but make it No, I am sure you would not up.”

like it; and some time or other you FAIRTHORN. — “Don't hold out could not help knowing, and you your hand to me! Don't be smiling in would be very sorry for it. And my face ! I don't choose it ! Get out that boy Lionel, who was as proud

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