BY

THE AUTHOR OF "CASTE,"

ETC., ETC.

"Nothing is a misery

Unless our weakness apprehend it so.
We cannot be more faithful to ourselves
In anything that's manly, than to make
Ill fortune as contemptible to us,
As it makes us to others."

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

LONDON:

HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,
SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN,

13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.

1860.

The right of Translation is reserved.

249. W. 427.

LONDON:

PRINTED BY R. BORN, GLOUCESTER STREET,

REGENT'S PARK.

BOND AND FREE.

CHAPTER I.

"Is there no life but these alone?
Madman or slave, must man be one?"

It was Midsummer, and late afternoon. The handsome, but faded and dreary-looking, city dining-room had but two occupants. They were as silent as the stray sunbeam that had made its way through a gap between opposite houses, and was burning upon the only bits of bright colour in the apartment - the ruby and amber wines.

VOL. I.

B

This sunbeam, touching the word Poetics at the head of the page, drew the eyes of the younger man from his book; they did not fall again, but absently watched its play upon the decanters, till the other occupant of the room, raising the Times newspaper to refold it, shut off the moted beam and changed both the direction of the gaze and the direction of the thoughts of his companion.

At first the young man's face expressed mere annoyance at the prolonged rustling of the paper; but presently his lips moved as if in a vain effort to speak, and his cheek flushed, and then grew paler than it had been before. It was some minutes before the silence was disturbed by his voice; when he did speak, it was hoarsely and abruptly.

"Sir! why did you

hate my

father

and mother? The time is come when I

must know their history and my own

name."

Without even lifting his eyes, the person addressed demanded:

"Who has dared tell you that I hated them, boy?"

66

Why will you never speak of them? Why have I never been able to win more than toleration from you? Why do you sometimes look at me as at the likeness of a person you had hated, and seem to shrink from the very sound of my voice?"

"You are a fanciful young fool!" was the short and coldly-spoken rejoinder. man's slight form quivered

The young -there was a momentary wild glare in his eyes, which, when he had exclaimed

"By Heaven, such answers shall not content me!—you must tell me what I desire to know! Why did you hate my