not a word of what was after all perhaps the bitterest of his misfortunes, namely, his terrible disappointment about his poem. He dreaded lest the gay baronet might laugh at this too, and he shrunk from the agony he should feel under such an infliction with a degree of cowardice which he had never felt on any occasion before. But of Clara he felt no such fear, and to her he resolved to confess this deepest of all his sorrows. She listened to him as he expected she would do: her speaking features expressed concern, sympathy, and what was certainly as welcome as either, surprise.

"There is but one way of consoling yourself, Mr. Chesterfield, for this painful disappointment," she said. "It will reconcile you to your natural home; and when you shall come, after all these misadventures, to compare the feverish hopes of London with the joys of a country life, which never fails to keep every promise of pleasure it makes us, will you not at last confess that it is the best and safest? For when do spring or autumn cheat us of their promised flowers and fruits?-or the summer hide its glorious face from us?-or even winter fail to bring its crispy brightness and its cosey comfort ?-When you shall come again to compare all this with what you have lost since you looked elsewhere for enjoyment, will you not feel that Charlton is a safer and a happier place than London?"

"Ah, Miss Meddows!" replied Charles, colouring, "I am sure that such were your thoughts about me from the very first."

"Yes, Mr. Chesterfield. I thought your situation at Maplebury appeared to be a singularly happy one, and I own I thought you were running great risk of changing the better for the worser part; were you to take my advice now, it would not be long ere your good mother held you in her arms again. You have been quite long enough from home to enjoy the return to it, and have seen quite enough of London and its ways to furnish materials for many a winter night's pleasant talk in the country. There is no occasion whatever that you should cease to exercise your talent for writing, which, as you are happily independent, may be indulged blamelessly, and perhaps, in the end, profitably. Come, Mr. Chesterfield, take my advice. Let your family have the great pleasure of seeing you in the midst of them the day that you come of age. You may do this, and yet have time enough to see all that this part of the country has to show. What say you to it?"

"That there is nothing in the whole world which I should like so well!" exclaimed Charles, in a tone that showed for a moment, at least, a perfect oblivion of all his sorrows. "But-but-there is a great deal of business which I must do before I can leave London for good-and some of it cannot be done till after I am of age," he added.

Could Mr. Dalrymple have witnessed the change of colour which this avowal produced on the cheek of Clara, it is probable that he would have interpreted it as the proof of a much deeper interest in the young man's concerns than it was at all seemly for Miss Meddows to feel-and most other people might have been of the same opinion; for who could have guessed the vague, yet defined, the really unknown, yet strangely assured evil, which she prognosticated from young Chesterfield's coming into possession of his little fortune, while still under the influence of her father? She meditated for a moment, uncertain

whether she ought to-whether she could say more. At length she replied, "I have certainly no right, Mr. Chesterfield, to question or to admonish you; but you have spoken to me so candidly about your literary affairs that I will venture to take the same tone, and say that I trust that you have no concerns of any importance with which your excellent father is unacquainted. Trust me, he is your best and safest counseller; and I will venture to predict that if you rob him, from any motive whatever, of the confidence which is so justly his due, you will never, while you live, cease to repent it."

"I hope and trust, my dear Miss Clara," said Charles, deeply touched, and most truly grateful for the interest which her earnest manner expressed, "that I shall soon again be under the shelter of my father's roof, and of my father's wisdom. Your kindness has done me great good now, as it always has done from the first hour that I was thrown into your way. You have almost removed the bitterness of my disappointment about my poem, by showing that you did not care the less about me for it—and that makes me hope that they won't despise me for it at home, either. Perhaps," he added, with something of solemnity that touched his friend Clara deeply, "perhaps I have great reason to be thankful for it. I fear that I have been very near falling into a pit of death and darkness, which was made attractive to me by the silly belief that Fame lay at the bottom of it Had Marchmont been an honest man, he might have ended by leaving me with as little religion as he has got himself."

"If you never lose your religion, Mr. Chesterfield, till an honest man seeks to take it from you, I have a great notion that you have a great chance of keeping it as long as you live," answered Clara. And now," she added, laughing, "I will release you without preaching any more for the present. You will find delightful rambling upon the downs, and I will bid you good-bye till dinner-time."

66

Seldom has a poor lad at a distance from all his kith and kind felt himself more in want of their healing love than did our unfortunate Charles when he left London for Brighton; and still seldomer has such a one met from persons so little near to him in any way, such efficient consolation as he had found. Sir George's knowing nods, gay winkings, and confident assurances that he would steer him as clear of that dangerous little quicksand, the Sherbourne, as if he had never driven within sight of her, set him perfectly, though still ignorantly, at ease on that score; while Mrs. Longuéville's increased civility proved that he had lost nothing in the eyes of the finest lady of his acquaintance by having quarrelled with the celebrated Mr. Marchmont; and Clara's greatly augmented kindness of manner, her air of more familiar intimacy, and the frank sincerity with which she entered into all his concerns, proved beyond the possibility of a doubt that the check which his literary hopes had received had in no degree lessened him in her eyes.

Days-nay, weeks,-flew rapidly. Charles was in nobody's way, for when not inlisted into some scheme of amusement by his friends, he wandered for hours over the beautiful heights which showed him for the first time in his life all the different aspects which the broad sea, for ever varying, yet for ever the same, could wear. But if, instead of this convenient independence of occupation, he had been the most trouble

some hanger-on that an unfortunate invitation ever hitched upon a family, it would have made no difference in the length of his visit; for Sir George Meddows's affection for him was still very evidently on the increase, and he seldom suffered a day to pass without repeating that he was quite determined not to part with Charles till after Christmas.

After some discussion, it had been settled between the brother and sister that as Brighton was in all ways so exceedingly agreeable,'it would be "wisest, discreetest, best," to let their house in Bruton-street. To this arrangement Clara most joyfully acceded, and was made more happy by this new approach to prudence and economy than she believed any thing could now make her.

But before this arrangement could take place, it was necessary that some part of the family should go to town in order to see that the house, and all that was in it, was left fit for the reception of a tenant. Sir George declared that nothing should induce him to leave the sea for a single day, as the doing so might bring back the complaint which its vicinity had so wonderfully cured; and he declared, also, that dear Charles Chesterfield should stay with him, as he could not be left entirely alone.

Happy as Charles had been at Brighton, he certainly would greatly have preferred leaving it for London at this time. A few days only remained of his minority, and his punctual father had already transmitted to him all instructions as to how he might immediately avail himself of its termination, for the purpose of paying Sir George's, as well as some other debts, all trifling however, but which he could not have discharged before he left town without stripping himself of his last shilling. He was eager, therefore, to show his vouchers at the bank, and to relieve himself from the responsibilities which appeared to him almost disgraceful. But he felt far too grateful for all the kindness he had received not to yield (to Sir George's wish, and merely saying that his principal business in London would be to obtain the money necessary for liquidating the debt he owed him, he agreed to postpone it till the ladies should return. Any attempt on the part of Clara to interfere with this arrangement was impossible; and the two ladies set off for London attended only by servants.

Sir George was still an excellent walker, and as it happened that the day on which Mrs. Longuéville and her niece started on this expedition was a remarkably fine one, he proposed to his young companion, as soon as their carriage had driven off, that they should take a long ramble upon the downs. Charles readily agreed, and they set off, arm-in-arm, in a very friendly and familiar manner.

As soon as they had fairly quitted the town, and its suburbs, Sir George, gaily addressing his companion, said, "My dear Charles, you have never yet heard what my scheme is for freeing you from the clutches of Mrs. Sherbourne. Have you no curiosity about it ?-no longing desire to know what I mean to do?"

"Not much, Sir George," replied the young man; "I am so ignorant myself, and so full of faith in you, that I have permitted my mind to turn away as much as possible from all thoughts on the subject. But I shall be very glad to listen to you, if you have any information to communicate on the subject. Do you think, however, from my

having heard nothing more of her, that she may have changed her mind upon the subject?"

"And come to the magnanimous resolution of letting you rest in peace?" said Sir George. "No, upon my word, Charles, I do not think any such thing. The weeks that have passed since her sublime resolution was taken, have not been more, nor so much, I should think, as would be necessary to put the business en train—not to mention, moreover, that it is exceedingly probable they don't know where to find you. How should they-you did not leave your address with her, I suppose?"

"Most certainly I did not."

"Then lay not the flattering unction to your soul that you will hear no more of her. Trust me, the next billet-doux you will receive will be through the hands of her lawyer."

Charles answered only with a deep sigh, which seemed to acknowledge the truth of the prediction, and all the horror of it.

"Nay, sigh not so," said Sir George, laughing "faint heart, they say, never won fair lady, nor got rid of one either, Charles; you must remember that, if you please. And now let me speak to you very seriously of a matter of business, not so wholly unconnected with this of Mrs. Sherbourne as you may think at first sight. It is one, too, my dear Charles, which I do assure you without the slightest mixture of flattery, or making a boast of the real affection which I feel for you, has very frequently employed my thoughts since you left your good father's house with me. I speak of the employment, or investment as it is technically called, of your little fortune, Charles. I know no man living who better understands the management of the particular class of affairs in which he is engaged than your excellent father; but his manner of life has put all questions concerning the profitable investment of money quite out of his reach, and it is for that reason that I feel myself called upon, imperatively, I may say, to step forward with my knowledge and experience upon a subject which certainly, beyond all others, requires both. Are you disposed to listen to me, my dear young friend, and for the present to turn your thoughts altogether from Mrs. Sherbourne ?"

Charles assured him that he should listen with grateful attention to every thing he said on the subject.

"Well then," was the kind reply, "I will speak to you as I would to my own son, if I were blessed with one. Are you aware, Charles, how very low the rate of government interest has fallen?"

Speculators upon

"I think my father told me, Sir George, but upon my word I forget all about it," replied the young man, ingenuously. "So it ever is with men of genius, I believe. Providence do not pay half the attention that they ought to do to the admirable equality that exists between man and man. You write verses with the facility of Pope, and at the very moment of coming into possession of the money, upon the interest of which you are to exist, you actually do not know what that interest is! whilst I, who could hardly write a stanza if my life depended upon it, understand with the nicest accuracy the varying value of every species of property, with its real worth and annual returns, as thoroughly as a shepherd knows his flock, or a gardener his seedlings. Nor is the case peculiar to us, Charles.

You will find, as you get on, the same chequered pattern of intellect over the whole world. It is, therefore, that men find it necessary to help each other-and by doing this, the talents of each turn to the advantage of all."

Charles was delighted. He had never heard Sir George descant in so philosophical a strain before; and he felt all the advantage of having for a friend and guide a man whose general views were as enlarged, as his practical and special knowledge was acute.

"He will get me out of this Sherbourne noose," thought he, "if mortal man can do it."

"Your income, my dear fellow," resumed the baronet, "if your property remains in the funds, will be somewhat less than a hundred and fifty pounds a year. On this sum, I will venture to say, from what I already know of your gentlemanly habits and feelings, you will find it quite impossible to live. You know what you have already spent since you came to town, Charles, and you know too, that you have not altogether lived at your own expense. Guess, therefore, how things would go with you, if you attempted to live independently upon a hundred and fifty pounds a year."

“

"It would be impossible, Sir George," replied the young man, while a pang shot through his heart, as he remembered with what confidence he had made his calculations for the future, under the persuasion that the principal part of his income would proceed from his literary labours. But after the pause of a moment, he added, with tolerable composure, "I am in no danger, however, of falling into difficulties on that account. I shall hope in a year or two to get into orders, and in the interval my father will be both able and willing to help me."

This was not exactly such an answer as Sir George would have desired; but, nevertheless, it rather stimulated than checked his eloquence, and he therefore proceeded with great animation.

"How I love you, Charles," he exclaimed, "for that gentle and beautiful spirit of contentment which prepares you, as it were, for every possible contingency. But this rather increases than lessens the desire I feel to see you absolutely and bond fide independent. Independent of the world and all its caprices, independent of Mr. Marchmont, independent even of your own excellent father. And most truly do I rejoice to say that it is in my power to put you in the way of becoming I have, as you probably know, very large estates in Ireland.”

so.

Sir George paused; but Charles never happened to have heard any thing about his large estates in Ireland, and he therefore replied by a gentle shake of the head, which very distinctly said "No," but which implied no shadow of doubt as to the fact.

"Yes," resumed Sir George," the estate is in truth only too large, and, notwithstanding its noble rent-roll, is perpetually encumbered by enormous expenses in the way of-of-repairing farm-houses, draining bogs, building bridges, making roads, and a hundred other things, too tedious to mention, all more or less inevitable upon widely spreading property of this kind. Now, of course, this enables-I may say, indeed, that it obliges me to raise trifling sums of money from time to time upon this fine property. Your excellent father, as perhaps you know, Charles, has already had the advantage of vesting a thousand pounds in this very advantageous manner. I had great pleasure in