ing. I may allow myself to accept. Voila tout." He bowed again, with the inimitable grace of the old regime, and stepped into the baron's travelling carriage.

Levy, who had lingered behind, paused to accost L'Estrange.

Harley and Randal had left the house in the earis morning; and that sleep continued till late in the day. All the while the town of Lansmere had been distracted in his cause-all the while so many tumultuous passions had run riot in the contest that was to close or reöpen, for the statesman's ambition, the Janus gates of political war and counter schemes, had slumbered heavily as an infant in the cradle. He woke but in time to receive Harley's despatch, announcing the success of his election; and adding, "Before the night you shall embrace your son. Do not join us below when I return. Keep calm-we will come to you."

"Your lordship will explain to Mr. Egerton how his adopted son deserved his esteem, and re--the object of so many fears and hopes, schemes paid his kindness. For the rest, though you have bought up the more pressing and immediate demands on Mr. Egerton, I fear that even your fortune will not enable you to clear those liabilities, which will leave him perhaps a pauper!" "Baron Levy," said Harley abruptly, "if I have forgiven Mr. Egerton, cannot you too forgive? Me he has wronged-you have wronged him, and more foully."

In fact, though not aware of the dread nature of Audley's complaint, with its warning symptoms, Lord L'Estrange wished to spare to his friend the scene of Randal's exposure.

On the receipt of that letter Egerton rose. the prospect of seeing his son-Nora's son-the very memory of his disease vanished. The poor, weary, over-labored heart indeed beat loud, and with many a jerk and spasm. He heeded it not. The victory, that restored him to the sole life for which he had hitherto cared to live, was clean forgotten. Nature claimed her own-claimed it in scorn of death, and in oblivion of renown.

"No, my lord, I cannot forgive him. You he has never humiliated-you he has never employed for his wants, and scorned as his companion. You have never known what it is to start in life with one whose fortunes were equal to your own, whose talents were not superior. Look you, Lord L'Estrange-in spite of this difference between me and Egerton, that he has squandered the wealth that he gained without effort, while I have converted the follies of others into my own ample revenues-the spendthrift in his penury has the respect and position which millions cannot be- There sat the man, dressed with his habitual stow upon me. You would say that I am an precision; the black coat, buttoned across the usurer, and he is a statesman. But do you know broad breast; his countenance, so mechanically what I should have been, had I not been born the habituated to calm self-control, still revealing natural son of a peer? Can you guess what I little of emotion, though the sickly flush came and should have been if Nora Avenel had been my went on the bronzed cheek, and the eye watched wife? The blot on my birth, and the blight on the hand of the clock, and the ear hungered for a my youth-and the knowledge that he who was foot-tread along the corridor. At length the rising every year into the rank which entitled him sound was heard-steps-many steps. He sprung to reject me as a guest at his table-he whom the to his feet-he stood on the hearth. Was the world called the model of gentlemen-was a cow-hearth to be solitary no more? Harley entered ard and a liar to the friend of his youth; all this first. Egerton's eyes rested on him eagerly for a made me look on the world with contempt; and, moment, and strained onward across the threshold. despising Audley Egerton, I yet hated him and Leonard came next-Leonard Fairfield, whom he envied him. You, whom he wronged, stretch had seen as his opponent ! He began to suspectyour hand as before to the great statesman; from to conjecture-to see the mother's tender eyes in my touch you would shrink as pollution. My lord, you may forgive him whom you love and pity; I cannot forgive him whom I scorn and envy. Pardon my prolixity. I now quit your house." The baron moved a step-then, turning back, said with a withering sneer

"But you will tell Mr. Egerton how I helped to expose the son he adopted! I thought of the childless man when your lordship imagined I was but in fear of your threats. Ha! ha!-that will sting."

The baron gnashed his teeth as, hastily entering the carriage, he drew down the blinds. The post-boys cracked their whips, and the wheels rolled away.

"Who can judge," thought Harley, "through what modes retribution comes home to the breast? That man is chastised in his wealth-ever gnawed by desire for that which his wealth cannot buy!" He roused himself, cleared his brow, as from a thought that darkened and troubled; and, entering the saloon, passed his hand upon Leonard's shoulder, and looked, rejoicing, into the poet's mild, honest, lustrous eyes. Leonard," said he gently, "your hour is come at last."

66

CHAPTER XXXIV.

AUDLEY EGERTON was alone in his apartment. A heavy sleep had come over him, shortly after

66

the son's manly face. Involuntarily he opened his arms; but, Leonard remaining still, let them fall with a deep sigh, and fancied himself deceived. Friend," said Harley, "I give to you a son proved in adversity, and who has fought his own way to fame. Leonard, in the man to whom I prayed you to sacrifice your own ambition-of whom you have spoken with such worthy praise

whose career of honor you have promoted-and whose life, unsatisfied by those honors, you will soothe with your filial love-behold the husband of Nora Avenel! Kneel to your father! O Audley, embrace your son!"

"Here-here," exclaimed Egerton, as Leonard bowed his knee-" here to my heart! look at me with those eyes!-kindly, forgivingly; they are your mother's!" His proud head sunk on his son's shoulder.

"You

"But this is not enough," said Harley, leading Helen, and placing her by Leonard's side. must open your heart for more. Take into its folds my sweet ward and daughter. What is a home without the smile of woman? They have loved each other from children. Audley, yours be the hand to join-yours be the lips that bless."

Leonard started anxiously. "Oh, sir!-oh, my father!-this generous sacrifice may not be; for he-he who has saved me for this surpassing joy-he too loves her!"

SCENE-The Hall in the Old Tower of CAPTAIN to blurt forth inadvertently with, Don't waste your

"BUT you have not done?" said Augustine this critical question. The title you condemn Caxton.

·

"And so now, non quietal movere, proceed with the Final Chapter, and tell us first what became of that youthful Giles Overreach, who was himself his own Marrall ?"

terests or the passions that agitate mankind-to son with Scarron, who being dead is inimitable. generalize, as it were, the details of life that come Wherefore-to put the question on the irrefragable home to us all-so, in reality, the title denotes basis of mathematics-wherefore, as A B My that if it be such as the author may not unworthily Novel' is not equal to B C The Golden Novel,' call his Novel, it must also be such as the reader, nor to D E the Serious or Tragic Novel, it follows, whoever he be, may appropriate in part to him- that A B My Novel' is equal to PC Pisistratus self-representing his own ideas-expressing his Caxton,' and PC Pisistratus Caxton' must thereown experience-reflecting, if not in full, at least fore be just equal, neither more nor less, to AB in profile, his own personal identity. Thus, when My Novel-which was to be demonstrated." we glance at the looking-glass in another man's My father looked round triumphantly, and, obroom, our likeness for the moment appropriates serving that Squills was dumbfounded, and the rest the mirror; and according to the humor in which of his audience posed, he added mildlywe are, or the state of our spirits and health, we say to ourselves, Bilious and yellow!-I might as well take care of my diet!' Or, Well, I 've half a mind to propose to dear Jane; I'm not such an ill-looking dog as I thought for! Still, whatever result from that glance at the mirror, we never doubt that 't is our likeness we see; and each says to the phantom reflection, Thou art myself,' though the mere article of furniture that gives the reflection belongs to another. It is my likeness if it be his glass. And a narrative that is true to the Varieties of Life is every Man's Novel, no matter from what shores, by what rivers, by what bays, in what pits were extracted the sands, and the silex, the pearlash, the nitre and quicksilver which form its materials; no matter who the craftsman who fashioned its form; no matter who the vendor that sold, or the customer who bought; still, if I but recognize some trait of myself, 't is my likeness that makes it My Novel.' '

Mr. Squills (puzzled, and therefore admiring). -"Subtle, sir-very subtle. Fine organ of comparison in Mr. Caxton's head, and much called into play this evening."

Mr. Caxton (benignly)." Finally, the author, by this most admirable and much signifying title, dispenses with all necessity of preface. He need insinuate no merits-he need extenuate no faults for by calling his work thus curtly My Novel,' he doth delicately imply that it is no use wasting talk about faults or merits.'"

Pisistratus (amazed).- -"How is that, sir?" Mr. Caxton.-"What so clear? You imply that, though a better novel may be written by others, you do not expect to write a novel to which, taken as a novel, you would more decisively and unblushingly prefix that voucher of personal authorship and identity conveyed in the monosyllable My.' And if you have written your best, let it be ever so bad, what can any man of candor and integrity require more from you? Perhaps you will say that, if you had lived two thousand years ago, you might have called it The Novel, or The Golden Novel, as Lucius called his story The Ass;' and Apuleius, to distinguish his own more elaborate ass from all asses preceding it, called his tale The Golden Ass. But living in the present day, such a designation-implying a merit in general, not the partial and limited merit corresponding only with your individual abilities—would be presumptuous and offensive. True-I here anticipate the observation I see Squills is about to make."

Squills." I, sir!"

66

Ay!" said the captain, "what became of Randal Leslie? Did he repent and reform ?"

66

Nay," quoth my father with a mournful shake of the head," you can regulate the warm tide of wild passion-you can light into virtue the dark errors of ignorance; but where the force of the brain does but clog the free action of the heartwhere you have to deal, not with ignorance misled, but intelligence corrupted-small hope of reform; for reform here will need reorganization. I have somewhere read (perhaps in Hebrew tradition) that of the two orders of fallen spirits-the Angels of Love, and the Angels of Knowledge— the first missed the stars they had lost, and wandered back through the darkness, one by one, into heaven; but the last, lighted on by their own lurid splendors, said, 'Wherever we go, there is heaven!'-and deeper and lower descending lost their shape and their nature, till, deformed and obscene, the bottomless pit closed around them." Mr. Squills." I should not have thought, Mr. Caxton, that a book-man like you would be thus severe upon knowledge.

Mr. Caxton (in wrath).-"Severe upon knowledge! O Squills-Squills-Squills! Knowledge perverted, is knowledge no longer. Vinegar, which exposed to the sun, breeds small serpents, or at best slimy cels, not comestible, once was wine. If I say to my grandchildren, Don't drink that sour stuff, which the sun itself fills with reptiles ;' does that prove me a foe to sound sherry? Squills, if you had but received a scholastic education, you would know the wise maxim that saith, All things the worst are corruptions, from things originally designed as the best. Has not freedom bred anarchy, and religion fanaticism? And if I blame Marat calling for blood, or Dominie racking a heretic, am I severe on the religion that canonized Francis de Sales, or the freedom that immortalized Thrasybulus?"

Mr. Squills, dreading a catalogue of all the saints in the Calendar, and an epitome of Ancient History, exclaimed eagerly-“ Enough, sir—I am convinced!"

Mr. Caxton." Moreover, I have thought it a natural stroke of art in Pisistratus, to keep Randal Leslie, in his progress towards the lot of the intellect unwholesomely refined, free from all the salutary influences that keep ambition from settling into egotism. Neither in his slovenly home, nor Mr. Caxton. You would say that, as Scarron from his classic tutor at his preparatory school, called his work of fiction The Comic Novel,' so does he seem to have learned any truths, religious Pisistratus might have called his The Serious or moral, that might give sap to fresh shoots when Novel,' or The Tragic Novel.' But, Squills, the first rank growth was cut down by the knife; that title would not have been inviting nor appro- and I especially noted, as illustrative of Egerton, priate, and would have been exposed to compari- no less than of Randal, that though the states

man's occasional hints of advice to his protégé
are worldly-wise in their way, and suggestive of
honor as befitting the creed of a gentleman, they
are not such as much influence a shrewd reasoner
like Randal, whom the example of the playground
at Eton had not served to correct of the arid self-
seeking, which looked to knowledge for no object
but power.
A man tempted by passions like
Audley, or seduced into fraud by a cold subtle
spirit like Leslie, will find poor defence in the
elegant precept, Remember to act as a gentle-
man.' Such moral embroidery adds a beautiful
scarf to one's armor; but it is not the armor
itself! Ten o'clock- -as I live- -Push on, O
Pisistratus! and finish the chapter."

Mrs. Caxton (benevolently).—" Don't hurry. Begin with that odious Randal Leslie, to oblige your father: but there are others whom Blanche

and I care much more to hear about."

Pisistratus, seeing there is no help for it, produces a suplementary manuscript, which proves that, whatever his doubt as to the artistic effect of a Final Chapter, he had foreseen that his audience would not be contented without one.

of which he had cheated himself, gave him a chance, at least, of present independence, by which, with patient toil, he might have won, if not to the highest places, at least to a position in which he could have forced the world to listen to his explanations, and perhaps receive his excuses. The £5000 that Audley designed for him, and which, in a private memorandum, the statesman had intreated Harley to see safely rescued from the fangs of the law, was made over to Randal by Lord L'Estrange's solicitors; but this sum seemed to him so small after the loss of such gorgeous hopes, and the up-hill path seemed so slow after such short cuts to power, that Randal looked upon the unexpected bequest simply as an apology for adopting no profession. Stung to the quick by the contrast between his past and his present place in the English world, he hastened abroad. There, whether in distraction from thought, or from the curiosity of a restless intellect to explore the worth of things yet untried, Randal Leslie, who had hitherto been so dead to the ordinary amusements of youth, plunged into the society of damaged gamesters and third-rate roués. In this companionship his very talents gradually degen Randal Leslie, late at noon the day after he erated, and their exercise upon low intrigues and quitted Lansmere Park, arrived on foot at his miserable projects but abased his social character, father's house. He had walked all the way, and till, sinking step after step as his funds decayed, through the solitudes of the winter night; but he he finally vanished out of the sphere in which was not sensible of fatigue till the dismal home even profligates still retain the habits, and cling closed round him, with its air of hopeless, ignoble to the caste, of gentlemen. His father died; the poverty; and then he sank upon the floor, feeling neglected property of Rood devolved on Randal, himself a ruin amidst the ruins. He made no disclosure of what had passed to his relations. Miserable man, there was not one to whom he could confide, or from whom he might hear the truths that connect repentance with consolation! After some weeks, past in sullen and almost unbroken silence, he left as abruptly as he had appeared, and returned to London. The sudden death of a man like Egerton had even in those excited times created intense, though brief sensation. The particulars of the election, that had been given in detail in the provincial papers, were copied into the London journals;-among those details, Randal Leslie's conduct in the committee-room, with many an indignant comment on selfishness and ingratitude. The political world of all parties formed one of those judgments on the great man's poor dependant, which fix a stain upon the character, and place a barrier in the career, of ambitious youth. The important personages who had once noticed Randal for Audley's sake, and who, on their subsequent and not long deferred restoration to power, could have made his fortune, passed him in the streets without a nod. He did not venture to remind Avenel of the promise to aid him in another election for Lansmere, nor dream of filling up the vacancy which Egerton's death had created. He was too shrewd not to see that all hope of that borough was over; -he would have been hooted in the streets and pelted from the hustings. Forlorn in the vast metropolis as Leonard had once been, in his turn he loitered on the bridge, and gazed on the remorseless river. He had neither money nor connections-nothing save talents and knowledge to force his way back into the lofty world in which all had smiled on him before; and talents and knowledge, that had been exerted to injure a benefactor, made him but the more despised. But even now, Fortune, that had bestowed on the pauper heir of Rood advantages so numerous and so dazzling, out

but out of its scanty proceeds he had to pay the portions of his brother and sister, and his mother's jointure; the surplus left was scarcely vsiible in the executor's account. The hope of restoring the home and fortunes of his forefathers had long ceased. What were the ruined hall and its bleak wastes, without that hope which had once dignified the wreck, and the desert? He wrote from St. Petersburg ordering the sale of the property. No one great proprietor was a candidate for the unpromising investment; it was sold in lots among small freeholders and retired traders. A builder bought the Hall for its materials. Hall, lands, and name were blotted out of the map and the history of the county.

The widow, Oliver, and Juliet removed to a provincial town in another shire. Juliet married an ensign in a marching regiment, and died of neglect after childbirth. Mrs. Leslie did not long survive her. Oliver added to his little fortune by marriage with the daughter of a retail tradesman, who had amassed a few thousand pounds. He set up a brewery, and contrived to live without debt, though a large family, and his own constitutional inertness, extracted from his business small profits and no savings. Nothing of Randal had been heard of for years after the sale of Rood, except that he had taken up his residence either in Australia or the United States; it was not known which, but presumed to be the latter. Still, Oliver had been brought up with so high a veneration of his brother's talents, that he cherished the sanguine belief that Randal would some day appear, wealthy and potent, like the uncle in a comedy; lift up the sunken family, and rear into graceful ladies and accomplished gentlemen the clumsy little boys and the vulgar little girls who now crowded round Oliver's dinner-table, with appetites altogether disproportioned to the size of the joints.

One winter day, when from the said dinner

table wife and children had retired, and Oliver | procured ready-made, and placed, without resat sipping his half-pint of bad port, and look-mark, in his room. But his presence soon became ing over unsatisfactory accounts, a thin terrier, intolerable to the mistress of the house, and oplying on the threadbare rug by the niggard fire, pressive even to its master. Randal, who had sprang up and barked fiercely. Oliver lifted his once been so abstemious that he had even regarded dull blue eyes, and saw opposite to him, at the the most moderate use of wine as incompatible window, a human face. The face was pressed with clear judgment and vigilant observation, had close to the panes, and was obscured by the haze contracted the habit of drinking spirits at all hours which the breath of its lips drew forth from the of the day; but though they sometimes intoxifrosty rime that had gathered on the glass. cated him into stupor, they never unlocked his Oliver, alarmed and indignant, supposing this heart nor enlivened his sullen mood. If he intrusive spectator of his privacy to be some bold observed less acutely than of old, he could still and lawless tramper, stepped out of the room, conceal just as closely. Mrs. Oliver Leslie, at first opened the front door, and bade the stranger go rather awed and taciturn, grew cold and repelling, about his business; while the terrier still more then pert and sarcastic, at last undisguisedly and inhospitably yelped and snapped at the stranger's vulgarly rude. Randal made no retort; but his heels. Then a hoarse voice said, "Don't you sneer was so galling that the wife flew at once to know me, Oliver? I am your brother Randal! her husband, and declared that either she or his Call away your dog, and let me in." Oliver brother must leave the house. Oliver tried to stared aghast he could not believe his slow pacify and compromise, with partial success; and, senses he could not recognize his brother in the a few days afterwards, he came to Randal, and gaunt grim apparition before him. But at length said, timidly, "You see, my wife brought me he came forward, gazed into Randal's face, and, nearly all I possess, and you don't condescend to grasping his hand in amazed silence, led him into make friends with her. Your residence here must the little parlor. Not a trace of the well-bed be as painful to you as to me. But I wish to see refinement which had once characterized Randal's you provided for; and I could offer you something air and person was visible. His dress bespoke-only it seems, at first glance, so beneath-" the last stage of that terrible decay which is sig- "Beneath what?" interrupted Randal, withernificantly called the "shabby genteel." His mien ingly. "What I was-or what I am? Speak was that of the skulking, timorous, famished vagabond. As he took off his greasy, tattered hat, he exhibited, though still young in years, the signs of premature old age. His hair, once so fine and silken, was of a harsh iron-gray, bald in ragged patches; his forehead and visage were ploughed into furrows; intelligence was still in the aspect, but an intelligence that instinctively set you on your guard-sinister, gloomy, menacing.

Randal stopped short all questioning. He seized the small modicum of wine on the table, and drained it at a draught. "Pooh," said he, "have you nothing that warms a man better than this?" Oliver, who felt as if under the influence of a frightful dream, went to a cupboard and took out a bottle of brandy three-parts full. Randal snatched at it eagerly, and put his lips to the neck of the bottle. 66 Ah," said he, after a short pause, "this comforts; now, give me food." Oliver hastened himself to serve his brother; in fact, he felt ashamed that even the slip-shod maid-servant should see his visitor. When he returned with such provisions as he could extract from the larder, Randal was seated by the fire, spreading over the embers emaciated bony hands, like the talons of a vulture.

He devoured the cold meat set before him with terrible voracity, and nearly finished the spirits left in the bottle; but the last had no effect in dispersing his gloom. Oliver stared at him in fear the terrier continued to utter a low suspicious growl.

"You would know my history?" at length said Randal, bluntly. "It is short. I have tried for fortune and failed-I am without a penny and without a hope. You seem poor-I suppose you cannot much help me. Let me at least stay with you for a time-I know not where else to look for bread and for shelter."

out!"

"To be sure you are a scholar; and I've heard you say fine things about knowledge and so forth; and you'll have plenty of books at your disposal, no doubt; and you are still young, and may rise— and-",

"Hell and torments! Be quick-say the worst or the best!" cried Randal, fiercely.

"Well, then," said poor Oliver, still trying to soften the intended proposal, "you must know that our sister's husband was nephew to Dr. Felpen, who keeps a very respectable school. He is not learned himself, and attends chiefly to arithmetic and book-keeping, and such mattersbut he wants an usher to teach the classics; for some of the boys go to college. And I have written to him, just to sound-I did not mention your name till I knew if you would like it; but he will take my recommendation. Board-lodgingfifty pounds a year; in short, the place is yours if you like it."

Randal shivered from head to foot, and was long before he answered. "Well, be it so; I have come to that. Ha, ha! yes, knowledge is power!" He paused a few moments. "So the old Hall is razed to the ground, and you are a tradesman in a small country town, and my sister is dead, and I henceforth am-John Smith! You say that you did not mention my name to the school-masterstill keep it concealed; forget that I once was a Leslie. Our tie of brotherhood ceases when I go from your hearth. Write, then, to your head master, who attends to arithmetic, and secure the rank of his usher in Latin and Greek for-John Smith."

Not many days afterwards, the protégé of Audley Egerton entered on his duties as usher in one of those large, cheap schools, which comprise a sprinkling of the sons of gentry and clergymen, Oliver burst into tears, and cordially bade his designed for the learned professions, with a far brother welcome. Randal remained some weeks larger proportion of the sons of traders, intended at Oliver's house, never stirring out of the doors, some for the counting-house, some for the shop and not seeming to notice, though he did not and the till. There, to this day, under the name scruple to use, the new habiliments which Oliver of John Smith, lives Randal Leslie.