up against; he always felt as though it were the prelude to something cutting or offensive some sly impertinence that he could not detect till too late to resent some insinuation that might give the point to a whole conversation, and yet be undiscovered by him till the day following. Little as Harcourt was given to wronging his neighbour, he, in this instance, was palpably unjust; Upton's manner being nothing more than the impress made upon a very subtle man by qualities very unlike any of his own, and which in their newness amused him. The very look of satire was as often an expression of sorrow and regret, that he could not be as susceptible, as easy of deception, as those about him. Let us pardon our worthy Colonel if he did not comprehend this; shrewder heads than his own had made the same mistake. Half to resent this covert slyness, half to arouse himself to any conflict before him, he said in a tone of determination, "It is only fair to tell you that you are yourself to blame for anything that may have befallen poor Glencore."

"I to blame! Why, my dear Harcourt, you are surely dreaming."

"As wide awake as ever I was. If it had not been for a blunder of yours--an unpardonable blunder, seeing what has become of it-sending a pack of trash to me about salt and sulphur, while you forwarded a private letter about Glencore to the Foreign Office, all this might not have happened."

"I remember that it was a most disagreeable mistake. I have paid heavily for it, too. That lotion for the cervical vertebra has come back all torn, and we cannot make out whether it be a phosphate or a prot'oxide of bismuth. You don't happen

to remember?"

"I of course I know nothing about it. I'd as soon have taken a porcupine for a pillow as I'd have adventured on the confounded mixture. But, as I was saying, that blessed letter, written by some princess or other, as I understand, fell into the King's hands, and the consequence was that he sent off immediately to Glencore an order to go down to him at Brighton. Naturally enough, I thought he'd not go; he had the good and sufficient pretext of

No

his bad health to excuse him. body had seen him abroad in the world for years back, and it was easy enough to say that he could not bear the journey. Nothing of the kind; he received the command as willingly as he might have done an invitation to dinner fifteen years ago, and talked of nothing else for the whole evening after but of his old days and nights in Carlton House; how gracious the Prince used to be to him formerly; how constantly he was a guest at his table; what a brilliant society it was; how full of wit and the rest of it, till by Jove, what between drinking more wine than he was accustomed to take, and the excitement of his own talking, he be came quite wild and unmanageable; he was not drunk nor anything like it, it was rather the state of a man whose mind had got some sudden shock; for, in the midst of perfectly rational conversation, he would fall into paroxysms of violent passion, inveighing against every one, and declaring that he never had possessed one true-hearted honest friend in his life.

"It was not without great difficulty that I got him back to my lodg ings, for we had gone to dine at Richmond. Then we put him to bed, and I sent for Hunter, who came on the instant. Though by this time Glencore was much more calm and composed, Hunter called the case brain fever; had his hair cut quite close, and ice applied to the head. Without any knowledge of his history or even of his name, Hunter pronounced him to be a man whose intellect had received some terrible shock, and that the present was simply an acute attack of a long existent malady."

"Did he use any irritants ?" asked Upton, anxiously.

"No; he advised nothing but the cold during the night."

"Ah! what a mistake," sighed Upton, heavily. "It was precisely the case for the cervical lotion I was speaking of. Of course he was much worse next morning?"

"That he was; not as regarded his reason however, for he could talk collectedly enough, but he was irritable and passionate to a degree scarcely credible; would not endure the slightest opposition, and so suspectful of everything and everybody, that

if he overheard a whisper it threw him into a convulsion of anger. Hunter's opinion was evidently a gloomy one, and he said to me as we went down stairs, He may come through it with life, but scarcely with a sound intellect.' This was a heavy blow to me, for I could not entirely acquit myself of the fault of having counselled this visit to Brighton, which I now perceived had made such a deep impression upon him. I roused myself, however, to meet the emergency, and walked down to St. James's to obtain some means of letting the King know that Glencore was too ill to keep his appointment. Fortunately, I met Knighton who was just setting off to Brighton, and who promised to take charge of the commission. I then strolled over to Brooke's to see the morning papers, and lounged till about four o'clock, when I turned homeward.

Gloomy and sad I was as I reached my door, and rang the bell with a cautious hand. They did not hear the summons, and I was forced to ring again, when the door was opened by my servant, who stood pale and trembling before me. 'He's gone, sir-he's gone,' cried he, almost sobbing.

"Good heaven, cried I. Dead!' "No, sir, gone away-driven off, no one knows where. I had just gone out to the chemist's, and was obliged to call round at Doctor Hunter's about a word in the prescription they couldn't read, and when I came back he was away.'

"I then ascertained that the carriage which had been ordered the day before at a particular hour, and which we had forgotten to countermand, had arrived during my servant's absence. Glencore hearing it stop at the door, enquired whose it was, and as suddenly springing out of bed proceeded to dress himself, which he did, in the suit he had ordered to wait on the King. So apparently reasonable was he in all he said, and such an air of purpose did he assume, that the nurse-tender averred she could not dare to interpose, believing that his attack might possibly be some sort of passing ac cess that he was accustomed to, and knew best how to deal with.

"I did not lose a moment, but, ordering post-horses, pursued him with

all speed. On reaching Croydon, I heard he had passed about two hours before; but though I did my best, it was in vain. I arrived at Brighton late at night, only to learn that a gentleman had got out at the Pavilion, and had not left it since.

"I do not believe that all I have ever suffered in my life equalled what I went through in the two weary hours that I passed walking up and down outside that low paling that skirts the Palace garden. The poorfellow, in all his misery, came before me in so many shapes; sometimes wandering in intellect sometimes awake and conscious of his sufferings-now trying to comport himself as became the presence he was in-now reckless of all the world and everything.What could have happened to detain him so long-what had been the course of events since he passed that threshold, were questions that again and again crossed me.

"I tried to make my way in-I know not exactly what I meant to do afterwards-but the sentries refused me admittance. I thought of scaling the enclosure, and reaching the palace through the garden, but the police kept strict watch on every side. At last, it was nigh twelve o'clock, that I heard a sentry challenge some one, and shortly after a figure passed out and walked towards the pier. I followed, determined to make enquiry, no matter of whom. He walked so rapidly, however, that I was forced to run to overtake him. This attracted his notice; he turned hastily, and by the straggling moonlight I recognised Glencore.

"He stood for a moment still, and beckoning me towards him, he took my arm in silence and we walked onward in the direction of the sea shore. It was now a wild and gusty night. The clouds drifted fast, shutting out the moon at intervals, and the sea broke harshly along the strand.

"I cannot tell you the rush of strange and painful emotions which came upon me as I thus walked along, while not a word passed between us. As for myself, I felt that the slightest word from me might, perhaps, change the whole current of his thoughts, and thus destroy my only chance of any clue to what was passing within him. 'Are you cold?' said he, at length, feeling possibly a

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but with a moved for

slight tremor in my arm. Not coll, exactly,' said I, but the night is fresh, and I half suspect too fresh for you. Feel that,' said he, placing his hand in mine, and it was burning The breeze that comes off the sea 13 grateful to me, for I am like one on fire.' Then, I am certain, my dear Glencore,' said I, that this is a great imprudence. Let us turn back towards the inn.' “He made no reply, rough motion of his arm ward as before. Three hours and: more,' said he, with a full and stern utterance, they kept me waiting. There were ministers with the King. There was some foreign envoy, too,) to be presented, and if I had not gone in alone and unannounced, I might still be in the ante-chamber. How he stared at me, Harcourt, and my close-cropt hair. It was that seemed first to strike him, as he said, 'Have you had an illness lately?' He looked poorly, too, bloated and pale, and tike one who fretted, and I told him so. We are both changed, sir, said I-sadly changed since we met last. We might almost begin to hope that another change is not far off, the last and the best one. I don't remember what he answered. It was, I think, something about who came along with me from town, and who was with me at Brighton-I forget exactly, but I know that he sent for Knighton, and made him feel my pulse. You'll find it rapid enough, I've no doubt, Sir William, said I. I rose from a sick bed to come here; his Majesty had deigned to wish to see me. Then the King stopped me, and made a sign to Knighton to withdraw.

Wasn't it a strange situation, Harcourt, to be seated there beside the King, alone? None other present --all to ourselves-talking as you and I might talk of what interested us most of all the world-and he showing me that letter, the letter that ought to have come to me. How he could do it I know not. Neither you nor I, George, could have done so; for, after all, she was, aye, and she is, his wife. He could not avail himself of my stratagem. I said so, too, and he auswered, Aye, but I can divorce her if one half of that be true, and he pointed to the letter. Then Countess Glencore, said he, must know

everything, and be willing to tell it, too. She has paid the heaviest penalty ever woman paid for arther. Read that, and I read it aye, I read it four times, five times over-and then my brain begun to burn, and a thonsind fancies flitted across me, and though he talked on, I heard not a word.

But that Countess is my wife, sir, broke I in, and what a part do you assign her! She is to be a spy, a witness, perhaps, in some infamous cause. How shall I, a peer of the realm, endure to see my name thus degraded? Is it court favour ean recompense me for lost or tarnished honor? But it will be her own vindication, said he. Her own vindication-these were the words, George, -she should be clear of all reproach. By heaven, he said so, that I might declare it before the world-and when it should be proved--be proved. How base a man can be, even though he wear a crown! Just fancy his proposition; but I spurned it, and said, you must seek for some one with a longer chance of life, sir, to do this; my days are too brief for such dishonor; and he was angry with me, and said I had forgotten the presence in which I stood. It was true, I had forgotten it.

"He called me a wretched fool, too, as I tore up that letter. That was wrong in me, Harcourt, was it not? I did not see him go, but I found myself alone in the room, and I was picking up the fragments of the letter as they entered. They were less than courteous to me, though I told them who I was au ancient barony better than half the modern marquisates. I gave them date and place for a creation that smacked of other services than a Jacques. Knighton would come with me, but I shook him off. Your court physician can carry his complaisance even to poison. By George, it is their chief office, and I know well what snares are now in store for me."

"And thence he went on to say that he would hasten back to his Irish solitude, where none could trace him out. That there his life, at least, would be secure, and no emissaries of the King dare follow him. was in vain I tried to induce him to return, even for one night, to the hotel, and I saw that to persist in my

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endeavours would be to hazard the little influence I still possessed over him. I could not, however, leave the poor fellow to his fate without at least the assurance of a home some-i where, and so I accompanied him to Ireland, and left him in that strange old ruin where we once sojourned together. His mind had gradually calmed down, but a deep melancholy had gained entire possession of him, and he passed whole days without a word. I saw that he often labored: to recall some of the events of the interview with the King, but his me mory had not retained them, and he seemed like one eternally engaged in some problem which his faculties could not solve. }

When I left him and arrived in town, I found the clubs full of the incident, but evidently without any real knowledge of what had occurred; since the version was that Glencore had asked an audience of the King, and gone down to the Pavilion to read to his Majesty a most atrocious nar rative of the Queen's life in Italy, offering to substantiate through his Italian connection-every allegation it contained a proposal that, of course, was only received by the King in the light of an insult; and that this reception, so different from all his expectations, had turned his head and driven him completely insane!g out

"I believe now. I have told you everything as I heard it; indeed I have given you Glencore's own words, since, without them, I could not con1 vey to you what he intended to say. The whole affair is a puzzle to me, for I am unable to tell where the poor fellow's brain was wandering, and when he spoke under the guidance of right reason. You, of course, have the clue to it all." f! %}

"I! How so?" cried Upton.

"You have seen the letter which caused all the trouble; you know its contents and what it treats of."

"Very true; I must have read it; but I have not the slightest recollection of what it was about. There was something, I know, about Glencore's boy-he was called Greppi, though, and might not have been recognized; and there was some gossip about the Princess of Wales-the Queen, as they call her now-and her ladies; but I must frankly confess it

did not interest me, and I have forgotten it all: 94* JE

1 Is the writer of the letter to be come at?"od ble stift i «T

Nothing easier. I'll take you over to breakfast with her to-morrow morning; you shall catechize her 1 yourself."

iff Oh she is, then---"..

1.ff She is the Princess Sabloukoff, my dear George, and a very charming persong as you will be the first to acknowledge. But as to this interview at Brighton, I fancy-even from the disjointed narrative of Glencore--one can make a guess of what it portended. The King saw that my Lady Glencore for so we must call her knew some very important facts about the Queen, and wished to obtain them and saw, too, that certain scandals, as the phrase goes, which attached to her ladyship, lay at another door. He fancied, not unreasonably, perhaps, that Glencore would be glad to hear this exculpa tion of his wife; and he calculated that by the boon of this intelligence, he could gain over Glencore to assist him in his project for a divorce. Don't you perceive, Harcourt, what an inestimable value it would have, to possess one single gentleman, one man or one woman of station, amid all this rabble that they are summoning throughout the world, to bring a shame upon England ?" I

"Then you incline to believe Lady Glencore blameless?" asked Harcourt, anxiously..

"I think well of every one, my charming Colonel. It is the only true philosophy in life. Be as severe as you please on all who injure yourself, but always be lenient to the faults that only damage your friends. You have no idea how much practical wisdom the maxim contains, nor what a fund of charity it provides."

"I'm ashamed to be so stupid; but I must come back to my old question. Is all this story against Glencore's wife only a calumny?"

"And I must fall back upon my old remark, that all the rogues in the world are in jail; the people you see walking about and at large are unexceptionably honest every man of them. Ah, my dear deputy assistant, adjutant, or commissary, or whatever it be, can you not perceive the

more than folly of these perquisitions into character? You don't require that the ice should be strong enough to sustain a twenty-four pounder before you venture to put foot on it; enough that it is quite equal to your own weight; and so of the world at large everybody, or nearly everybody, has virtues enough for all we want. This English habit-for it is essentially English-eternally investigating everything, is like the policy of a man who would fire a round shot every morning at his house, to see if it was well and securely built." "I don't, I can't agree with you," cried Harcourt.

"Be it so, my dear fellow; only don't give me your reasons, and at least I shall respect your motives."

"What would you do then, in Glencore's place? Let me ask you that."

"You may as well enquire how I should behave if I were a quadruped. Don't you perceive that I never could, by any possibility, place myself in such a false position. The man who, in a case of difficulty, takes counsel from his passions, is exactly like one who, being thirsty, fills himself out a bumper of aqua fortis and drinks it off."

"I wish with all my heart you'd give up aphorisms, and just tell me how we could serve this poor fellow; for I feel that there is a gleam of light breaking through his dark fortunes."

"When a man is in the state Glencore is now in, the best policy is to let him alone. They tell us that when Murat's blood was up, the Emperor always left him to his own guidance, since he either did something excessively brilliant, or made such a blunder as recalled him to subjection again. Let us treat our friend in this fashion, and wait.

Oh, my worthy colonel, if you but knew what a secret there is in that same waiting policy. Many a game is won by letting the adversary move out of his turn."

"If all this subtlety be needed to guide a man in the plain road of life, what is to become of poor simple fellows like myself?"

"Let them never go far from home, Harcourt, and they'll always find their way back," said Upton, and his eyes twinkled with malicious drollery. "Come now," said he, with a well affected good-nature of look

you what

and voice, "If I won't tell

I should counsel Glencore in this emergency, I'll do the next best thing-I'll tell you what advice you'd give him."

"Let us hear it, then," said the other.

"You'd send him abroad to search out his wife; ask her forgiveness for all the wrong he has done her; call out any man that whispered the shadow of a reproach against her, and go back to such domesticity as it might please Heaven to accord him." "Certainly, if the woman has been unjustly dealt with-"

"There's the rock you always split on; you are everlastingly in search of a character. Be satisfied when you have eaten a hearty breakfast, and don't ask for a bill of health. Researches are always dangerous. My great grandfather, who had a passion for genealogy, was cured of it by dis covering that the first of the family was a stay-maker! Let the lesson not be lost on us."

"From all which I am to deduce that you'd ask no questions--take her home again, and say nothing."

"You forget, Harcourt, we are now discussing the line of action you would recommend; I am only hinting at the best mode of carrying out your ideas."

"Just for the pleasure of showing me that I did'nt know how to walk in the road I made myself," said Harcourt, laughing.

"What a happy laugh that was, Harcourt. How plainly, too, it said, Thank Heaven, I'm not like that fellow with all his craft! And you are right too, my dear friend; if the devil were to walk the world he'd be bored beyond endurance, seeing nothing but the old vices played over again and again; and so it is with all of us who have a spice of his nature. We'd give anything to see one new trick on the cards. Good night, and pleasant dreams to you;" and with a sigh that had in its cadence something almost natural, he gave his two fingers to the honest grasp of the other, and withdrew.

"You're a better fellow than you think yourself, or wish any one else to believe you," muttered Harcourt, as he puffed his cigar; and he ruminated over this reflection till it was bed time.