existence there is but one true and safe even like my apple-tree there, which stands point of sight, and that is neither from self steadfast in its place, while the bees come within us nor from the world without us, but humming about it, and the birds sit and from above. The man who feels, humbly sing in the branches, as they will do to its yet proudly, that his life is owed to Him who very last summer- its very last day. Such gave it, to be fashioned according to the a man, who, whatever sort of life it may clearest vision he has of His patern, possesses please Heaven to give him, carries it out to in himself a permanent centre whence he the full, so far as its possibilities allow, bears can judge of all things with an equal eye. with him to the end of his days the blessing He is like what David says of a tree of the tree His leaf also shall not wither; planted by rivers of water:' he grows and look, whatsoever he doeth, it shall prosfirmly on his own root, and every develop- per. And be his life short or long, lofty or ment of his character, every act of his life, lowly, it is sure to be a complete life, inis in due proportion. Consequently, season asmuch as, whatever its proportions, it was by season, he will bring forth, in sight of all lived in perspective.' men, his buds, leaves, blossoms, and fruit:

GEORGE PEABODY.

WE mourned the old chivalric times,
Their virtues, with their glories, dead
Life stricken wholly from romance -
'And what is left to us?' we said:
Up through the land the murmur rose:

Oh for the days that are no more,
When love of God wrought love of man,
And all were human to the core !

'The great Arthurian days we mourn,
And all the lapsing years that wrought
Change after change, yet evermore

Some varying phase of splendour caught;
Still noble deeds, still gentle lives,
Till every knightly heart grew cold,

And Valour's sunset-radiance lit

The tournay of the Cloth of Gold.

'The poetry of earth is dead :*

What lesser grief should we bemoan, With Science in the place of Faith,

With quicken'd brains and hearts of stone?

Our noblest triumphs mock our skill,

We link the Continents in vain

It only tends to sordid ends,

And whets the appetite for gain.'

So from our lips remonstrance fell,

When through the land a rumour went, "The old heroic fire revives

Its pulsing fervour is not spent!
The record of the glowing past
Shows in its dim and doubtful page
No deed like that which greets the eyes
Of this debased, prosaic age.

PART X. CHAPTER XXXVII.

THE breakfast-table in the Cottage was as cheerful as usual next morning, and showed no premonitory shadow. Winnie did not come down-stairs early and perhaps it was all the more cheerful for her absence. And there were flowers on the table, and everything looked bright. Will was absent, it is true, but nobody took much notice of that as yet. He might be late, or he might have gone out; and he was not a boy to be long negligent of the necessities of nature. Aunt Agatha even thought it necessary to order something additional to be kept hot for him. "He has gone out, I suppose," Miss Seton said; "and it is rather cold this morning, and a long walk in this air will make the boy as hungry as a hunter. Tell Peggy not to cook that trout till she hears him come in."

The maid looked perturbed and breathless; but she said, "Yes, ma'am," humbly as if it was she who was in the wrong; and the conversation and the meal were resumed. A minute or two after, however, she appeared once more: "If you please, there's somebody asking for Mr. Hugh," said the frightened girl, standing, nervous and panting, with her hand upon the door. "Somebody for me?" said Hugh. "The gamekeeper, I suppose; he need not have been in such a hurry. Let him come in, and wait a little. I'll be ready presently." "But, my dear boy," said Aunt Agatha, "L you must not waste the man's time. It is Sir Edward's time, you know; and he may have quantities of things to do. Go and see what he wants: and your mother will not fill out your coffee till you come back." And Hugh went out, half laughing, half grumbling but he laughed no more, when he saw Peggy standing severe and pale at the kitchen door, waiting for him. "Mr. Hugh," said Peggy, with the aspect of a chief justice, "tell me this moment, on your conscience, is there any quarrelf or disagreement between your brother and you?"

"My brother and me? Do you mean Will?" said Hugh, in amazement. "Not the slightest. What do you mean? We were never better friends in our life."

room.

"God be thanked!" said Peggy; and then she took him by the arm, and fed the astonished young man up-stairs to Will's "He's never sleepit in that bed this night. His little bag's gone, with a change in't. He's putten on another pair of boots. Where is the laddie gone? And me that'll have to face his mother, and tell her she's lost her bairn!"

"Lost her bairn! Nonsense!" cried Hugh, aghast; "he has only gone out for a walk.'

"When a boy like that goes out for a walk, he does not take a change with him," said Peggy. “He may be lying in Kirtell deeps for anything we can tell. And me that will have to break it to his mother"

66

Hugh stood still in consternation for a moment, and then he burst into an agitated laugh. "He would not have taken a change with him, as you say, into Kirtell deeps," he said. Nonsense, Peggy! Are you sure he has not been in bed? Don't you go and frighten my mother. And, indeed, I dare say he does not always go to bed. I see his light burning all the night through, sometimes. Peggy, don't go and put such ridiculous ideas into people's heads. Will has gone out to walk, as usual. There he is, down-stairs. I hear him coming in: make haste, and cook his trout."

Hugh, however, was so frightened himself by all the terrors of inexperience, that he precipitated himself down-stairs to see if it was really Will who had entered. it was not Will, however, but a boy from the railway, with a note, in Will's handwriting, addressed to his mother, which took all the colour out of Hugh's cheeks-for he was still a boy, and new to life, and did not think of any such easy demonstration of discontent as that of going to visit Uncle Penrose. He went into the breakfast-room with so pale a face, that both the ladies got up in dismay, and made a rush at him to know what it was.

"It is nothing," said Hugh, breathless, waving them off, "nothing-only a note I have not read it yet- wait a little. Mother, don't be afraid."

"What is there to be afraid of?" asked

Mary, in amazement and dismay.

And then Hugh again burst into an unsteady and tremulous laugh. He had read the note, and threw it at his mother with an immense load lifted off his heart, and feeling wildly gay in the revulsion. "There's nothing to be frightened about," said Hugh. "By Jove, to think the fellow has no more taste-gone off to see Uncle Penrose. I wish them joy!"

"Who is it that has gone to visit Mr. Penrose?" said Aunt Agatha, and Hugh burst into explanation, while Mary, not by any means so much relieved, read her boy's letter.

"I confess I got a fright," said Hugh. "Peggy dragged me up-stairs to show me that he had not slept in his bed, and said his carpet-bag was gone, and insinuated

FOURTH SERIES. LIVING AGE. VOL. III. 22.

work or take up any of her ordinary occu- | from a

distance under Uncle Penrose's

pations. She went to Will's room and ex- advice. And yet the boy was not comfortamined it throughout, and looked through his able. It had become apparent to him vaguely, wardrobe to see what he had taken with that after this communication was made, the him, and scearched vainly for any evidence relations existing between himself and his of his meaning; and then she wrote him a family must be changed. That his mother long letter of questions and appeals, which might be "angry," which was his boyish would have been full of pathetic eloquence term for any or every displeasure that might to anybody who knew what was in her cloud Mrs. Ochterlony's mind; that Hugh mind, but would have appeared simply might take it badly and that after all it amazing and unintelligible to anybody igno- was a troublesome business, and he would be rant of her history, as she herself perceived, pleased to get it over. He was travelling in and burnt it, and wrote a second in which the cheapest way, for his money was scanty; there was still a certain mystery. She re- but he was not the kind of boy to be beguiled minded him that he might have gone away from his own thoughts by the curious thirdcomfortably with everybody's knowledge, in-class society into which he was thus brought, stead of making the household uneasy about or even by the country which gradually him; and she could not but let a little won- widened and expanded under his eyes from der creep through, that of all people in the few beaten paths he knew so well, into the world it was Uncle Penrose whom he that wide unknown stretch of hill and plain had elected to visit; and then she made an which was the world. A vague excitement, appeal to him: "What have I done to for- it is true, came into his mind as he felt himfeit my boy's confidence? what can you self to have passed out of the reach of have heard, oh Will, my dear boy, that you everything he knew, and to have entered could not tell to your mother?" Her mind upon the undiscovered; but this excitement was relieved by writing, but still she was did not draw him out of his own thoughts. uneasy and disquieted. If he had been It did but mingle with them, and put a severely kept in, or had any reason to fear quickening thrill of life into the strange a refusal; - but to steal away when he maze. The confused country people at the might have had full leave and every facil- stations, who did not know which carriage ity; this was one of the things which ap- to take, and wandered hurried and disconpeared the most strange. solate on the platforms, looking into all — the long swift moment of passage over the silent country, in which the train, enveloped in its own noise, made for itself a distinct atmosphere and then again a shriek, a pause, and another procession of faces looking in at the window this was Will's idea of the long journey. He was not imaginative; but still everybody appeared to him hurried, and downcast, and pre-occupied. Even the harmless country folks had the air of having something on their minds. And through all he kept on pondering what his mother, and what Hugh would say. Poor boy! his discovery had given him no advantage as yet; but it had put a cross upon his shoulders it had bound him so hard and fast that he could not escape from it. It had brought, if not guilt, yet the punishment of guilt into all his thoughts.

The servants, for their part, set it down to a quarrel with his brother, and jealousy about Nelly, and took Hugh's part, who was always the favourite. And as for Hugh himself, he sent his brother a cheque (his privilege of drawing cheques being still new, and very agreeable), and asked why he was such an ass as to run away, and bade him enjoy himself. The house was startled but after all, it was no such great matter; and nobody except Mary wasted much consideration upon Will's escapade after that first morning. He was but a boy; and it was natural, everybody thought, that boys should do something foolish now and then.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

WHILE this commotion arose in the Cottage, Will was flying along towards Liverpool in a curious state of mind. Not even now had the matter taken any moral aspect to him. He did not feel that he had gone skulking off to deliver a cowardly blow. All that he was conscious of was the fact, that having something to tell which he could not somehow persuade himself to tell, he was going to make the communication

Mr. Penrose had a handsome house at some distance from Liverpool, as was natural. And Will found it a very tedious and troublesome business to get there, not to speak of the calls for sixpences from omnibuses and porters, and everybody (he thought) who looked at him, which were very severe upon his slender purse. And when he arrived, his uncle's servants looked upon him with manifest suspicion; he had never been

there before, and Mr. Penrose was now living | shared it. And then he had other things to alone, his wife being dead, and all his chil- think of dren married, so that there was nobody in the house who could identify the unknown nephew. The Cottage was not much bigger than Mr. Penrose's porter's lodge, and yet that small tenement had looked down upon the great mansion all its life, and been partly ashamed of it, which sentiment gave Will an unconscious sense that he was doing Uncle Penrose an honour in going to visit him. But when he was met at the door by the semi-polite suspicion of the butler, who proposed that he should call again, with an evident reference in his mind to the spoons, it gave the boy the forlornest feeling that can be conceived. He was alone, and they But even Mr. Penrose was struck dumb thought him an impostor, and nobody here by Will's communication. He put up his knew or cared whether he was shut out from hand to his cravat and gasped, and thumped the house or not. His heart went back to himself on the breast, staring at the boy with his home with that revulsion which every-round scared apoplectic eyes-like the eyes body knows. There, everybody would have of a boiled fish. He stared at Will, who rushed to open the door to him, and wel- told the story calmly enough with a matter come him back; and though his errand here of fact conciseness, and looked as if he was simply to do that home as much injury was disposed to ring the bell and send for a as possible, his heart swelled at the contrast. doctor, and get out of the difficulty by conWhile he stood, however, insisting upon ad- cluding his nephew to be mad. But there mittance in his dogged way, without showing was no withstanding the evidence of plain any feelings, it happened that Mr. Penrose good faith and sincerity in Will's narration. drove up to the door, and hailed his nephew Mr. Penrose remained silent, longer than with much surprise. "You here, Will?" anybody had ever known him to remain Mr. Penrose said. "I hope nothing has silent before, and he was not even gone wrong at the Cottage ?" and his man's coherent when he had regained the faculty of hand instantly, and as by magic, relaxed of speech. from the door.

substantial things, about interest and investments, and not mere visionary reflections about the absence of other chairs, or other faces at his table. But he had a natural interest in Wilfrid, as in a youth who had evidently come to ask his advice, which was an article he was not disinclined to give away. And then "the Setons," as he called his sister's family and descendants, had generally shut their ears to his advice, and shown an active absence of all political qualities, so that Will's visit was a compliment of the highest character, something like an unexpected act of homage from Mordecai in the gate.

very

"I don't see what difference it makes as to my mother," said Will. "She is just what she always was the difference it makes to me and of course to Hugh."

"That woman was present, was she?" he "There is nothing wrong, sir," said Will, said; "and Winnie's husband- -Good "but I wanted to speak to you;" and he Lord! And so you mean to tell me Mary entered triumphantly, not without a sense has been all this time-When I asked her of victory, as the subdued servant took his to my house, and my wife intended to make bag out of his hand. Mr. Penrose was, as a party for her, and all that—and when we have said, alone. He had shed, as it she preferred to visit at Earlston, and that were, all incumbrances, and was ready, un- old fool Sir Edward, who never had a penny fettered by any ties or prejudices, to grow except what he settled on Winnie. And richer and wiser and more enlightened every all that time you know Mary was- Good day. His children were all married, and his Lord!" wife having fulfilled all natural offices of this life, and married all her daughters, had quietly taken her dismissal when her duties were over, and had a very handsome tombstone, which he looked at on Sunday. It occurred to very few people, however, to dament over Mr. Penrose's loneliness. He seemed to have been freed from all impediments, and left at liberty to grow rich, to get fat, and to believe in his own greatness and wisdom. Nor did it occur to himself to feel his great house lonely. He liked eating a luxurious dinner by himself, and knowing how much it had cost, all for his single lordly appetite-the total would have been less grand if wife and children had

But this was not a view that Mr. Penrose could take who knew more about the world than Will could be supposed to know though his thoughts were usually so preoccupied by what he called the practical aspect of everything. Yet he was disturbed in this case by reflections which were almost imaginative, and which utterly amazed Will. He got up, though he was still in the middle of dessert, and walked about the room making exclamations. "That's what she has been, you know, all this time - Mary, of