learn all we have need of, near that grave dug in one of the landes of Brittany, at the foot of an unknown cross, where lie the remains of the illustrious chief of those young victims, of him who, like his countryman Duguesclin, deserved to sleep at St Denis, among the kings. So long as Christian France exists, that distant and solitary tomb will appear to the soul clothed in solemn grandeur and touching majesty. Far from the intoxication of the battle-field, far from the theatre of his struggles and successes, it is from the mound which shall cover, until the judgment-day, that brave heart and victorious arm, that this great soul, betrayed by fortune and elevated by sacrifice, may be best invoked. It is there that the warrior, the man who has kept his honour intact as soldier, citizen, and Christian, may be estimated without reserve. It is there that the nothingness of human hopes may best be learned; and at the same time, even in this world, the existence of true greatness and true virtue. This tomb will tell us how to avoid the sins of victory; how to serve in the army of justice against the army of fortune; how to protest against enervating softness, against servile compliances, against the idolatry of success; how to place fidelity to deserted convictions, to a forsaken flag, and abandoned freedom, to persecuted friends, to the exiles and vanquished, high above the poor tinsel of false grandeur. This grave will teach ns, in the confusion and instability of the existing world, to save before all that personal character which gives all his strength and worthiness to man. But, at the same time, a still more difficult and necessary lesson will come to us from this grave. It will teach us to be gentle and strong in misfortune; to find calm and joy in suffering; to bear it without fainting or bitterness; to accept, when that is inevitable, the necessity of being but an unprofitable servant, and thus to gain eternal life. Yes, all this shall be revealed to us upon the tomb of one who will never be forgotten; -whose glorious life has united two things too often separated; who has been not only a great captain, a great servant of France, a faithful soldier of freedom, an honest man, a great citizen-but, at the same time, a great Christian, a humble and courageous believer." Few, perhaps, who read these pages will agree with M. de Montalembert in that which he regards as the crowning glory of his friend's life. Of all falling causes in the world, that of the Pope as a temporal prince is perhaps the only one in which England, even in its most romantic and highflown phase, has no sympathy. But no one who knows what heroism means, or who can be touched by the sight of selfdevotion carried to its loftiest and farthest height, will refuse to Lamoricière the far-off tribute of that fellow-feeling which is at once the closest and largest bond of humanity. We do not think as he did, nor believe with him, nor see the great events of the immediate past with the same eyes; but it would go hard with England if her Protestantism, at its strongest, ever blinded her to those divinest principles of humanity upon which all loyalty and honour are built. Let us do what we can to wipe from this brave soldier's name the film of misunderstanding which his last magnanimous act has left upon it. A tried and victorious general, he consented to be defeated and nominally disgraced for the sake of the cause which he thought the highest in the world, and to which his faith and truth and honour, as he thought, bound him. Almost always, when human imbecility, tyranny, and meanness have ruined a dynasty or a throne, some forlorn and noble soul rises still, heaven be praised, to throw the sad illumination of heroic virtue upon the ruin. No man in his generation that we know of has made such a sacrifice to what he held his duty as that which Lamoricière has thus accomplished. Let us hope that Rome has had her last martyr in this true and stainless knight. MISS MARJORIBANKS, PART XII. CHAPTER XLI. THE result of Miss Marjoribanks's wise precaution and reticence was that Sir John Richmond and the Doctor and Colonel Chiley were all on Mr Ashburton's committee. They might not agree with his principles; but then when a man does not state any very distinct principles, it is difficult for any one, however well disposed, to disagree with him; and the fact that he was the man for Carlingford was so indisputable, that nobody attempted to go into the minor matters. "Mr Ashburton is a gentleman known to us all," Sir John said, with great effect, in his nomination speech; and it was a sentence which went to the hearts of his audience. The other candidate had been a long time from home, and it was longer still since anybody in Carlingford could be said to have benefited by his residence there. He had had all his things down from town, as Mr Holden, the upholsterer, pithily remarked-and that made a great difference to start with. As for Mr Ashburton, though it is true nobody knew what he thought about Reform or the Income-tax, everybody knew that he lived at the Firs, and was supplied in a creditable way by George Street tradesmen. There was no mystery whatever about him. People knew how much he had a-year, and how much he paid for everything, and the way in which his accounts were kept, and all about him. Even when he had his wine direct from the growers (for naturally his own county could not supply the actual liquor), it was put in Carlingford bottles, and people knew the kinds he had, and how much, and a hundred agreeable details. And then, "he was a gentleman as was always ready to give his advice," as some of the people said. this furnished an immense body of evidence in his favour, and made Sir John's remark eloquent. And then Carlingford, as a general rule, did not care the least in the world about Reform. There were a few people who had once done so, and it was remarked in Grove Street that Mr Tozer had once been in a dreadful state of mind about it. But he was quite tranquil on the subject now, and so was the community in general. And what was really wanted, as Lucilla's genius had seen at a glance, was not this or that opinion, but a good man. She But at the same time it would be vain to deny that Miss Marjoribanks looked forward to a possible visit from Mr Cavendish with a certain amount of anxiety. was not frightened, for she knew her own powers; but she was a little excited and stimulated by the idea that he might come in at any minute, bringing back a crowd of recollections with him; and it was a perpetual wonder to her how he would take the inevitable difference, whether he would accept it as natural, or put on the airs of an injured man. Lucilla did not go out the two afternoons after her meeting with Mrs Woodburn, partly that she might not miss him if he called-for it was better to have it over; but Mr Cavendish did not come on either of these days. After that, of course, she did not wait for him any longer. But on the third or fourth day, when she was in Miss Brown's photographing room (the eldest Miss Brown was not married, and was a mother to the younger girls, and always enthusiastic about sitters), Mr Ashburton called about business, and Thomas came to fetch Miss Marjoribanks. She was sitAll ting with the greatest good-nature for half-a-dozen pictures, knowing in her secret heart all the time that she would look a perfect fright, and that all Carlingford would see her grinning with imbecile amiability out of the hazy background of Miss Brown's cartes. Lucilla knew this, and had hitherto avoided the process with success; but now she gave in; and as the Major was there, of course they talked of the coming election, which, indeed, at present was almost the only topic of conversation in Grange Lane. "Of course, you are on Mr Ashburton's committee," said Lucilla; "you must be, or going to be, after what you said the other day at lunch "What did I say?" asked Major Brown, with an air of dismay; for, to tell the truth, his heart inclined a little towards poor Mr Cavendish, who was an old neighbour, and to whom Major Brown could not but think the Marjoribanks and others had behaved rather cruelly. But then in these electioneering matters one never knows what one may have done to compromise one's self without meaning it; and the Major was a little anxious to find out what he had said. "Dear Major Brown," said Lucilla, seriously, "I am SO sorry if you did not mean it. I am sure it was that as much as anything that influenced Mr Ashburton. He was turning it all over in his mind, you know, and was afraid the people he most esteemed in Carlingford would not agree with him, and did not know what to do; and then you said, What did it matter about opinions, if it was a good man?-that was what decided him," said Miss Marjoribanks, with sad yet gentle reproachfulness. am so sorry if you did not mean what you said "I "Good heavens! I don't remember saying anything of the sort," said Major Brown. "I-I am sure I never thought of influencing any body. It is true enough about a good man, you know; but if I had imagined for an instant that any one was paying attention- By George! it was you that said it, Lucilla-I remember now." "Please don't make fun of me," said Miss Marjoribanks, "as if any body cared what I say about politics. But I know that was what decided poor Mr Ashburton. Indeed, he told me so; and when he finds you did not mean anything 66 But, good heavens !-I-I did mean something," cried the accused, with dismay. And he grew quite inarticulate in his confusion, and red in the face, and lost his head altogether, while Lucilla sat calmly looking on with that air of virtue at once severe and indulgent, which pities, and blames, and hopes that perhaps there is not so much harm done as might have been expected. This was the position of affairs when Thomas came to say that Miss Marjoribanks was wanted, as she had told him to do when her candidate came; for, to be sure, it was only next door. It was terrible to hear the soft sigh she gave when she shook hands with Major Brown. "I hope he will not feel it so much as I think; but I should be afraid to tell him," said Lucilla; and she went away, leaving the good man in a state of bewilderment and embarrassment and doubt, which would have been much more unpleasant if he had not felt so flattered at the same time. "I never meant to influence anybody, I am sure," he said, with a comical mixture of complacence and dismay, when Lucilla was gone. "I have always said, papa, that you don't think enough of the weight people give to your opinion," Miss Brown replied, as she gave the final bath to her negatives; and they both left off work with a certain glow of comforted amour propre, and the most benevolent sentiments towards Mr Ashburton, who, to tell the truth, until he got his lesson from Miss Marjoribanks, had never once thought about the opinion of Major Brown. He was sitting with aunt Jemima when Lucilla came in, and talking to her in a steady sort of a way. Nothing could have made Mr Ashburton socially attractive, but still there are many people to whom this steady sort of talk is more agreeable than brilliancy. When a man is brilliant there is always a doubt in some minds whether he is trustworthy, or sincere, or to be relied upon; but an ordinary commom - sense sort of talker is free from such suspicion. Mr Ashburton was very sorry to hear that Mrs John Marjoribanks had bad nights, and suggested that it might be nervous, and hoped that the air of Carlingford would do her good, and was very glad to hear that her son was getting on so well in India; and aunt Jemima could not help approving of him, and feeling that he was a person of substance and reflection, and not one of those fly-away young men who turn girls' heads, and never mean anything. Lucilla herself gained something in Mrs John's eyes from Mr Ashburton's high opinion; but at the same time it was quite clear that he was not thinking of anything sentimental, but was quite occupied about his election, as a man of sense should be. Lucilla came in with a fine bloom on her cheeks, but still with a shade of that sadness which had had so great an effect upon Major Brown. She had taken off her hat before she came in, and dropped into her chair with an air of languor and fatigue which was quite unusual to her. "It makes such a difference in life when one has something on one's mind," said Lucilla, and she sighed, as was but natural; for though that did not affect the energy of her proceedings, she knew and remembered at moments of discouragement how seldom one's most disinterested exertions are appreciated at the end. "You want your lunch, my dear," said Mrs John. "Perhaps I do," said Miss Mar joribanks, with a mournfully affectionate smile. "I have been sitting to Maria Brown. She has taken six, and I am sure they are every one more hideous than the other; and they will go all over England, you know, for the Browns have hosts of people belonging to them; and everybody will say, So that is Miss Marjoribanks.' I don't think I am vain to speak of," said Lucilla, "but that sort of thing goes to one's heart." "These amateurs are terrible people," said Mr Ashburton, in his steady way; "and photographs are a regular nuisance. For my part "Don't say that," said Miss Marjoribanks. "I know what you are going to say; and you must sit to her, please. I have said already she must do one of you; and I will tell you presently about the Major. But wait and talk to aunt Jemima a little, for I am so tired," said Lucilla. She was lying back negligently in her seat, with that air of languor which so many young ladies excel in, but which was for her a novel indulgence. Her hand hung over the arm of her chair as if there was no longer any force in it. Her head fell back, her eyes were half closed; it was a moment of abandonment to her sensations, such as a high-principled young woman like Miss Marjoribanks seldom gives way to. But Lucilla went into it conscientiously, as into everything she did, that she might regain her strength for the necessary duties that were before her. And it was at this moment that Thomas appeared at the door with a suspicion of a grin appearing at the corners of his sober mouth, and announced Mr Cavendish, who came in before an ordinary woman would have had time to open her eyes. This was the moment he had chosen for his first visit; and yet it was not he who had chosen it, but fate, who seemed to have in this respect a spite against Lucilla. It was not only the embarrassing presence of his rival, but the fact that neither of the two people in the room knew or had ever seen Mr Cavendish, that put a climax to the horror of the situation. She alone knew him, and had to take upon herself to present and introduce him, and bridge over for him the long interval of absence, and all this with the sense of being in the enemy's interest, and to a certain extent false to Mr Cavendish! Lucilla rose at once, but she was not a woman to make pretences, She did not throw off all in a moment her fatigue, and dash into spasmodic action. She held out her hand silently to Mr Cavendish, with a look which spoke only affectionate satisfaction in a friend's return. She did not even speak at all for the first moment, but contented herself with a look, which indeed, if he had been younger and less preoccupied, would no doubt have touched his very heart. "So you have really come back," she said. "I am so glad! after all that people said about your being married and dead and ever so many stupid things. Oh! don't look at me, please. It doesn't matter with a gentleman, but I know as well as if you had told me that you think me dreadfully gone off" "I entertain such a profane idea!" said Mr Cavendish; but he was considerably embarrassed, and he was a great deal stouter, and altogether different from what he used to be, and he had not the light hand of his youth for a compliment. And then he sat down on the chair Thomas had given him ; and he looked uncomfortable, to say the least of it; and he was getting large in dimensions and a little red in the face, and had by no means the air of thinking that it didn't matter for a gentleman. As for Miss Marjoribanks, it would be impossible to say what mists of illusion dropped away from her mind at the sight of him. Even while she smiled upon the newcomer, she could not but ask herself, with momentary dismay-Had she really gone off as much in the same time? "I have been looking for you," Miss Marjoribanks resumed; "I waited in for you Tuesday and Wednesday, and it is so odd you should have come just at this minute. Aunt Jemima, this is Mr Cavendish, whom you have heard so much about and don't go, please, Mr Ashburton-you two must know each other. You will be hearing of each other constantly; and I suppose you will have to shake hands or something on the hustings-so it will be much the best to begin it here." : But the two candidates did not shake hands they bowed to each other in an alarming way, which did not promise much for their future brotherliness, and then they both stood bolt upright and stared at Miss Marjoribanks, who had relapsed, in the pleasantest way in the world, into her easy-chair. "Now, please sit down and talk a little," said Lucilla; "I am so proud of having you both together. There never has been anybody in the world that I have missed so much as you—you knew that when you went away, but you didn't mind. Mr Ashburton is very nice, but he is of no use to speak of in an evening," said Miss Marjoribanks, turning a reflective glance upon her own candidate with a certain sadness; and then they both laughed as if it was a joke; but it was no joke, as one of them at least must have known. "Lucilla," said Mrs John, with consternation, "I never heard anybody talk as you do; I am sure Mr Ashburton is the very best of society, and as for Mr Cavendish "Dear aunt Jemima," said Lucilla, "would you mind ringing the bell? I have been sitting to Maria Brown, and I am almost fainting. |