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where I lived, my lot has been changed. He turned away from me the fountain whence flowed all my gladness; he won from me the jewel of my life, and misfortune since has fallen upon me, through my own fault. I have felt as a man, but have not reasoned and struggled as a man. I have lived alone for months. Last night I was induced to join society again, and there was he too-the one fated to destroy me. You know what passed. The purport of his enquiry as we came out, was to learn where I might be found this morning. I did not like to name this sorry place, and told him I would be found in the Gray's Inn CoffeeHouse, at ten o'clock. What is to be done? It is agony to seem to fear him."

He could proceed no further, and covered his face with his hands.

"Be calm," I said; "I will go to the place you have appointed, and see his friend; but is this not your first quarrel with him ?"

"It is. I have suspected that I was ill used by him; but it is my own foolish heart to which I owe my misery. He may not have been to blame. I never spoke to him until last night."

"Enough. I will now go. I have a friend in the medical profession who lives near this. I will send him to you as quickly as possible; but tell me where I shall look for a card with your address ?"

"Oh yes; you act a brother's part by me, and yet do not know my name. It is Charles R. My father was Major R of the -regiment; he fell at Waterloo."

I remembered that I had heard the name before, though not in connexion with Waterloo; but there was no time for further speech. I got to Gray's Inn, just as the clock struck ten, having called on the doctor in my way, and urged him to lose no time in visiting Mr R.

I left word at the bar, that if any one asked for him, he should be brought to me; and I had not long to wait before a gentleman appeared, and was conducted to the place where I was sitting. I explained to him the reason that Mr R. could not keep his appointment, and offered to go with him to Mr H., and tell him the circumstances of

To

which I happened to be aware. this he assented, and we soon reached Mr H.'s handsome rooms in Lincoln's Inn. I repeated to him the facts that made it impossible for Mr R. to meet his friend.

"It is very awkward," he said. "Do you act as Mr R.'s friend in this affair ?"

"Not in the sense that you perhaps use the term. I only come to assure you, on my own personal knowledge, of the utter impossibility of Mr R. meeting you, or any one else, at present, except in his sick chamber. I believe him to be

very seriously ill." "It is a pity," he replied, "that those who are liable to such sudden attacks are not more careful in the use of expressions for which they may be called upon personally to answer."

"That observation," I said, "is hardly necessary to me. I come here merely to pledge myself, that the reason of Mr R. not meeting your friend this morning is bodily inability; and having so pledged myself, you will perceive that I can allow no insinuation of want of disposition on his part to keep his appointment. I myself restrained him. in an attempt to rise from his bed."

"Well, sir," said Mr H., "so the matter must rest for the present. But it cannot end thus: when Mr R. gets well, it must be settled."

"I much doubt that he will ever get well," I replied.

"In that case the affair will settle itself," he rejoined.

And this is humanity and social life, thought I, as I turned away, and went to the chambers of my friend M., where we had been the night before. I found him arraying himself in a new gown and wig, and preparing to make his first appearance in Court. I told him what I had been about, and all that had happened, and asked him what he knew of R., in whom I had taken so great an interest.

"Poor fellow!" he said, "I am very sorry for him. I know him only as a literary man of great promise, whom I have heard very highly spoken of, and I used to meet him frequently, until five or six months ago. Since then, it appears he has shut himself up, and has gone nowhere.

When I met him the other day, he said he had been ill, but was much better; and I pressed him to come and be of our party last night, as a personal compliment to me. I am very sorry for what has happened. I thought H. had forgotten it; but he is so cool."

"But," said I, "can you tell me if R. has friends in London-connexions, I mean - or intimate friends ?"

"Not that I know of at present," he replied. "He was very intimate with two friends of mine in the Temple, where I used to meet him; but they are now both on the Continent."

In the course of the day, I returned to the chamber of my sick friend. He was no better; he insisted on trying to write a letter, but found it impossible, as he said, to think of what he wanted to say.

"This is very dreadful," he added, catching hold of my hand; "but when I cannot, you will write to my mother. Promise me that you will." "Certainly," I replied; " but tell me where I shall write to."

He told me the name of the place in Sussex, and then, after a long silence, he began:-"You asked where my mother lived-in the clouds-in the clouds-up high in the clouds, to be sure; and my father waving the colours of his regiment over her."

How awful is delirium! To face a frantic man waving a drawn sword, would give me little feeling of terror, compared with that which freezes my blood, when the invisible mind exhibits its derangement, and wild words are poured out without the government of reason. For a moment I could hardly comprehend what was the matter. "What do you mean?" I said, turning to the bedside.

"It was not my fault," he again burst forth, "she was so very beau. tiful-and talked so gently-but then that horrid black cloud; and the serpent"

"My God!" said I, "this is dreadful ;" and I seized my hat and rushed out of the room, to bring my medical friend without delay. Fortunately I met upon the stairs a nurse whom he had sent, for he had been at the house, and seen his patient in the morning.

"He is delirious," said I, as I entered my friend the Doctor's room. "So soon!" he replied, with a coolness, that half provoked and half comforted me; "delirium was to be expected-his fever was violent when I saw him-the inflammation was very great in the vessels of the head."

Poor R.'s delirium lasted for a good many days-his complaint was a severe brain fever; and the Doctor said, that but for a very strong natural constitution, the exhaustion must have killed him. I wrote for his mother the second day of his illness, and she instantly came up to town. She was indeed a woman for a son to love, and oh! with what untiring vigilance and tenderness she watched over him-what dignity and sweetness of demeanour did she maintain all through that terrible scene of doubt and danger, while the being she loved and respected most in the world lay tossing delirious upon his bed of pain-perhaps his deathbed. The ninth night he fell into a sleep. I called to enquire for him about eleven o'clock; and while he slept, I prevailed upon his mother to go to rest in an adjoining room, I keeping watch meanwhile by his bedside, for the nurse had to be turned out of the room-she could do nothing but sleep and snore.

I shall never forget the still awe of the two hours that followed-the sick man before me, pale as death, and sleeping, it might be his last sleep-no sound save the small tick, tick, of the watch upon the mantelpiece-the very dead hour of the night, and no foot stirring in the street, for it is not a thoroughfare. I felt oppressed, as if I myself could hardly breathe. I tried to read, but could not; prayer was the fitting occupation for such a time and place. I knelt down at the bedside. When I lifted up my head, to arise from my kneeling posture, I found the sick man's mother kneeling with me, her gaze intently fixed upon her son's face, and her lips slightly moving, but without a sound. She had come into the room and knelt down so quietly, that I had not heard her. As we arose together, the huge bell of the clock of Saint Paul's boomed forth the hour of one; and considerable as the distance was, I could hear the vibra

tions gradually dying away through the silence of the night. The sick man slightly stirred, and his mother, with a handkerchief of the lightest texture, gently wiped his lips, and still looked full in his face ;-never was the intense agony of mental anxiety more touchingly expressed than in that tranquil earnest gaze. The sleeper stirred again, sighed, opened his eyes, and was awake. He looked about, and shut his eyes again-his mother and myself stood still, breathless with expectation. His eyes opened again, and he faintly articulated"Where am I, mother?-something terrible has been going on, I knowand you have been with me-am I at home ?"

"My son! my son!" exclaimed his mother-and tears that had not flowed during all his illness, now gushed from her eyes. "You have been very ill, but God has been merciful, and you are now better-but I will tell you all to-morrow-you must speak no more now." She kissed him, and he sank again into slumber. With silent and fearful joy, she accompanied me to the door of the room; then she clasped my hands, and said, "The danger, I trust, is over now-God be praised! and oh, sir! forgive me if I have not before spoken to you a mother's grateful thanks, which an anxious heart did not the less feel. May Heaven's blessing, and a grateful parent's prayers, bring peace and joy to your heart, and avert from you all evil."

I walked home in tears that night, for my heart was full; but it was full of serious happiness.

From that night R. slowly but steadily got better. It was nearly a month afterwards, and his mother had been gone home some days, that I sat beside him on his sofa, and after a thoughtful pause, he asked me if I had seen Mr H. since the morning that he was to have met him. I told him I had not, but that he had better not trouble his mind with the recollection of that affair.

"I do not wish to revive it," he said, "I seem as if I had passed over a gulf since that time, which separates me from all the bitter and angry feelings which then burned within me, but I was led to ask the question from calling to mind the begin

ning of our acquaintance, which my wretched state, and your active kindness, soon ripened into friendship that I think cannot end but with my life."

"Then I trust it will long long continue," said I, "and that it may, you must be cheerful, and when you get strong enough, apply your mind to pursuits in which it can scarcely fail to make you successful and distinguished."

"I shall try," he replied, "but that brings me to the point at which I wished to arrive. I want to tell you

for such a friend as you have been, deserves all my confidence-what has been my course of life, and how it has been interrupted."

"Nothing could interest me more," I said.

"You are aware," he continued, "that I lost my father at WaterlooI was then ten years old-there were four of us-I have two brothers and a sister. My mother's heart was almost broken, and for a long time, all was woe and gloom and confusion in our house. At length my mother roused herself from the deep and distressing stupor of her grief, for it was necessary to attend to our worldly affairs, and see to our future support. Upon a settlement of my father's affairs, there was found to be no more than barely enough to maintain us respectably. It had been intended that I should be educated for Oxford-that was necessarily given up, but still no pains were spared on our education. The pension which, as an officer's widow, my mother was allowed, she devoted to the payment of a private tutor, who lived in the house with us; and the fault was our own, if, under his care, we did not imbibe enough of the best sort of learning. These, indeed, were happy days. My mother, if never absolutely gay, became sedately cheerful-while my brothers and myself were with our tutor, she devoted herself much to my sister's education, and we all assembled every evening, and rambled about together, or read and talked, a most united and happy family.

"As I grew up, it was resolved that I should study for the Bar; but, in the mean time, an ardent taste for general literature had led me to make some attempts, which, by the kind

ness of a country friend who had literary connexions in the metropolis, were favourably introduced to some London publishers. They were praised and paid for far beyond my highest expectations, and I was soon induced to quit my home for a residence in London, where the path to literary fame and emolument seemed open to me, and where it was at all events necessary I should reside, in preparing for my profession. My mother was, of course, full of anxiety about the place in which I was to fix myself in the great city, and we were all highly pleased when the clergyman of our parish proposed to introduce me to the house of the widow of an old college friend of his, who lived in London, and helped out the expenses of her housekeeping by taking two or three persons to board and lodge with her.

"At first when I arrived in London, all went well, and but too happily. I had as much as it was convenient for me to do in employment which I liked, and my circumstances were easy; but the charm of my existence was in the new home to which I had been introduced."

Here my friend paused, and tears filled his eyes.-"My nerves have been so weakened by this illness," said he," that I cannot tell my story without more emotion than I expect ed; but I will go on.

"The lady of the house, a very excellent person in her way, had a niece living with her, and who had lived with her, as I understood, for about a year before I came to reside under the same roof. She was an orphan; her father, who was a clergyman, had been dead a good many years; her mother, who had been, I was told, a very accomplished woman, died also a short time before the young lady of whom I speak had come to live with her aunt. I heard that much pains had been bestowed by her mother upon Maria's (I mean the young lady's) education; and I can well believe it. Never were exquisite beauty, and the most touching sweetness of disposition, more worthy of whatever culture could do to adorn them with all womanly accomplishments. Gracefulness hovered about her every step and motion-elegance and gentleness were combined in all she

VOL. XXXV. NO. CCXVIII.

did and said. When she spoke to me, I listened to music

I did hear her talk

Far above singing.' It seemed that love and tenderness had made their dwelling in the depths of her eyes, as blue as heaven; and when she smiled and was glad, an atmosphere of joy was round about her, and all within its influence rejoiced. I speak as one who lovedfor I did love-though then I knew it not, or cared not to examine what the reason was of the happiness that I derived from her presence. We spoke of many things, for she seemed to like to converse with me; but of love we never spoke. Ithought our feelings towards one another were the same-but oh! the fatal mistake ! They were as different as is the thunder-cloud from the softest vapours that float athwart a summer sky. Mine wanted but the touch of jealousy to burst out into flame and agony-hers were but the calm sentiments of liking and esteem, if they even went thus far.

"The Mr H. whom you met the other night, came to live in the house. How he happened to be received there I cannot tell; for its mistress was particular to admit no one that was not well recommended; but he came, and won from me that which I then found how much I prized. I hated him from the moment I saw him enter the door. I never spoke to him-the light scornfulness of his talk made me despise him too much; but he had studied the art of pleasing womankind, and his personal attractions made the task all the easier. I need not go over the history of his attentions to Maria, and the gradual appearance of her dislike-yes, her dislike for me. I left the house in despair. I cared not where I went, so that I might be alone. I could no longer apply my mind to my accustomed avocations. My finances sunk in consequence, and I therefore contented myself with the badly furnished and worse attended place to which you assisted me on that unfortunate night. It was the first time I had been in society for six months, and I endeavoured to force myself into spirits fit for it. You know the rest."

"And have you heard," asked I,

with some curiosity," what was the result of Mr H.'s attentions to this young lady ?"

"Nothing-nothing. From the day I left the house where then they both lived, until this day, I have endeavoured to make my heart as it were a heart of iron, to all thought of her that fascinated, and then repelled me."

"But think you the designs of H. were honourable ?"

"No-I think he sought the triumph of gaining the affections of so lovely a creature, and I doubt not he succeeded. Perhaps he was wretch enough to aim at the ruin of her body and her soul, for the gratification of his fiend-like lust; but in that I am full sure he would never succeed. Once she knew his impurity, she would flee from him as from a wild beast; but her affections may have been won, and then trampled upon, and her heart may have been torn and crushed, as mine has been."

I endeavoured to turn my friend's mind to more cheering thoughts, and then left him, much interested in his past story and future fate.

My affairs about this time called me out of town for a week. The first evening after my return I called upon R., whom I had left fast attaining to perfect health. I found him with a number of papers on the table, at which he had been writing. As I entered, he was walking up and down the room. He ran to me, and shook me earnestly by the hand. "Thank God you are come," said he. "What is the meaning of this agitation?" I replied; "you alarm me." "Listen," he said; "I am going to make further demands upon your friendship-but first let me explain what has happened. My cousin, Captain M., came to town yesterday morning, and called upon me with letters from home. I walked out with him to the Park. We there met the lady in whose house I told you I lived when I came to London. I bowed, and intended to have passed on, but she turned back a step or two after me, and said, 'That if I did not happen to be particularly engaged, she wished much to speak a few words to me.' Upon this my cousin left me, requesting me to join him again in the interior of the Park when I was ready. The lady then told me briefly and

pointedly enough, that having a great desire to explain to me what must have seemed rude and harsh conduct on her part, and that of her inmates, and not knowing where I lived, she had determined to avail herself of the opportunity of our accidental meeting, to speak to me.You must have observed, sir,' she went on, that after the unfortunate arrival of Mr H. at my house, our manner was soon changed towards you.' I had not observed any change in the good lady's manner, for which you will easily account, but I let her proceed without interruption. The fact is, that Mr H. thought it necessary to get you out of the house, because you could understand him, and were a check upon him. He told us the worst stories of you.'-And then, sir, she went into a detail of slanders that set me mad. She confessed that she and her niece had believed this villain, and had consequently treated me with coolness, to induce me to leave the house. A month or two, however, discovered to them the character of the aban doned libertine they had listened to, and he was turned out of the house with indignation; the introduction he had come with was discovered to be false, though he took care to avoid forgery, by making it a verbal one merely, which, with his plausible manner, was sufficient. Part of what he had said about me was discovered to be a lie, and the rest was not believed. My niece,' said the old lady, and with this concluded her story, 'has scarcely held up her head since the discovery of the base man's infamous intentions.'

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"You may judge the state of fury into which I was driven by this recital," continued R., as he walked about the room in the utmost excitement. "I joined my cousin, and instantly asked him to go on my partto demand satisfaction of H. villain had the insolence to tell him that he was glad I was at last ready to show myself, as he had been waiting for some time to make a similar demand of me. But why occupy you with all this? It is arranged that we meet to-morrow morning in HydePark, immediately after six o'clock." grief. I was petrified with surprise and "Good God!" I said, " is there nothing to be done to avert

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