Félix of far more than that of which Félix was depriving him. It was he who would in effect have been the loser if their respective conditions had been reversed, and if he, instead of Félix, had been declaaed the heir, and Félix, instead of himself, had been made the son.

"And where shall I find her?" he asked; "when will she see me?"

him who, like Félix, has never known it at all, it is even more. It seems to be not only a part of his nature, as in the case of other men, but to be filled also with the unknown wonder that belongs to the passion of love itself. It is to him also home - but it is a home that he has never seen: it is as though he were Lost in this new idea, not the less strong some native of the south or of the east, because unconscious, Félix forgot all else with an imagination steeped in the beauty for the moment. He did not even think which belongs to him none the less be- of asking her history. What are past outcause that beauty belongs not to his eyes-side facts to present emotion? He would none the less because he has himself from as soon have thought of asking the Holy his birth upwards been a sojourner in Mother herself for her passport had she Thule, in it, but not of it. It becomes deigned to visit him in person. to him the blending of passion with calm affection, of actual excitement with the idea of perfect rest - an unknown land, full of the promise of all that the soul desires. He can know nothing of the evil that enters into every human relation, however perfect on the contrary, he sees a heaven in what to those who have lived in it all their lives is often mere earth against which their souls not seldom rebel. It is when we are by the waters of Babylon that we sit down and weep over the thought of the Zion that has been or that ought to have been ours. To the actual dweller of Palestine the land of his race doubtless appears dull and tame enongh, with no greater gifts of honey or milk His calmness, though rather of speech than belongs to any other country in the than of spirit, brought back Félix to the world: but to him of the dispersion, whose earth from the skies. It was too truebodily eyes have never seen it, however he would not face his mother, his father's much his ears may have heard, it becomes, wife, until he had done what he could to in the eyes of his imagination, a land flow-defend her honour. Otherwise, he would ing with milk and honey indeed.

And they who happen to know what to a Frenchman, above all other men in the world, is contained in the words "ma mère," will understand what Félix, this more than half Frenchman, felt when he found himself on the very border of the land which he had desired all the more for never having had even so much as its promise. The idea of all that to the Teutonic mind is contained in that "blessed Teutonic word, home," is to the Latin race contained in the no less blessed word "mother," whether they translate it into madre or mère: and to a good Catholic, as in faith, at least, was Félix, who prays not only to his heavenly Father but to his heavenly mother also, the idea of maternity has a significance greater still. Even Hugh, who was by no means of an imaginative turn, and who took things practically after his fashion, could not help for once being borne behind the scenes. He felt himself to be a usurper of what was not his own, and that he was depriving

"She has left London by now," Hugh answered: "she is gone home-down to Denethorp. But-well, we must be brothers also." All his doubt had vanished: the heart of Félix was to be read in his eyes. "I am her son too," he continued

66

your younger brother. And so we must consult together. Before we think of ourselves we must think how to defend her. And, first of all, how comes it that you, you of all men - a De Croisville, a Clare should seem to be acting the part of

There must be some good reason.

I have never believed

come before her, not as her son, but as himself her slanderer, her accuser.

"That I am a coward, you would say? Well, if you had - but you are right. Yes even she would absolve me now would hold that I risk my life in a good cause, such as even she would approve. And I shall have no difficulty in finding a second now?"

He held out his hand, which Hugh took gladly.

"Thanks!" replied the latter. "I will return to Warden to-morrow: I will ask you not a single question more. I see that you have guessed her slanderer without my naming him. Are you a good shot?" Félix shrugged his shoulders. "Have you ever been out before?" "Never."

"Well, then," said Hugh, with all the superior air of a man who has stood at his twelve paces over one who has never passed his baptism of fire, "I must tell you what to do. For the present we understand one another-that is enough for

now. I will arrange everything. You it? Do men run against their own interest will be here to-morrow?" like that? And now, if you please, I will take a cigar."

"Of course all day. But do not be long. The sooner this is over the better. And if anything should happen —

"Nonsense-nothing will happen-at least nothing that you mean. You will live happily all the rest of your days, as the story-books say." A strange look came into his eyes, which it was hard to read. "My dear fellow - brother, I ought to call you now promise me one thing, will you? All sorts of accidents happen, you know I mean to leave England shortly. When I do so, I rely upon your being to my-to our mother all that I ought to have been. And forgive me for having deprived you of your own for so long. You must not be jealous of me - I am far from having deserved what I have had. But you must deserve it and that you will I feel sure." He once more held out his hand. "Leave England?" asked "Why?"

Félix.

"Yes: do you not know - but what does it matter why? There are plenty of reasons, and I have always thought that a colonial life would suit me best. One's hands are good for something out there. And- — as I have no intention of returning immediately do you promise?" "With all my heart-whether you go

or no."

-

"And you forgive me?"

"No-I thank you for having been her what I have not been able to be what you must be to her still. But

to

He paused. Then, "I scarcely know how to say it," he went on; "but, since you speak of emigrating

"Well? Is there anything strange in the idea?"

"To put it plainly -I know nothing of your laws-but I am doing you no injury?"

He smiled as he spoke. But the smile belied the words at least so it seemed to Félix. Then, with another cordial pressure of the hand, the two cousins, or rather brothers, bade each other goodnight, and Hugh Lester once more went on his way. A load was off his mind, and he could once more breathe freely, although he had now told his second lie."

CHAPTER XVI.

So Hugh Lester was relieved in mind, so far as regarded the safety of the last citadel of his social creed. That was safe. But otherwise the complications that surrounded it, like the intrenchments of a besieging army, had only made the position of the garrison more insecure. In plainer words, his duty never to surrender while life still remained in him, was rendered a hundred times clearer to him than even before. He had been willing to fight for the honour of Earl's Dene, more dear to him by far than Earl's Dene itself, as a matter of duty when the spirit of loyalty had departed: now, the enthusiasm of loyalty had revived, and he was to do battle not only for the creed that he professed, but for his belief in his creed for living persons as well as for dead ideas.

His motives, for one of his naturally straightforward nature, had become terribly complex: and none the less so in that he made not the slightest attempt to un"ravel them. There is nothing so difficult as the attempt to put into words the opposing elements that direct the conduct of one who himself is incapable of self-analysis― of winnowing his own chaff from his own corn. Doubtless, to one who had loved so well and had lost, and worse than lost, so utterly, life did not seem particularly worth keeping; and therefore, in such a man, the risk of life for the sake of others is scarcely in itself particularly deserving of praise. But still the mere ineld-stinct of self-preservation, in a young and healthy man, is so strong by its very nature, that however worthless life itself may seem, the innate desire to retain it does not really, in practice, lose any of its real influence. It does not occur to men like Hugh Lester, strong in body and sound in mind, to actively court death because life has betrayed them. Disgust with life may indeed aid the spirit of self-sacrifice: but the spirit of self-sacrifice is none the less divine for being aided by a mere earthly influence. On the contrary, a touch of

Doing me an injury! How so?" "I will not come between you and her in any way. I will be to her but one son the more. But it is you who are her est son, not I, who am now but just born. You shall not be poorer by me, either in affection, or in

"Oh," interrupted Hugh, "that's all right. You needn't be afraid in that way."

the number of those whom bankruptcy in happiness has rendered poor. He could not stay indoors and think out his thoughts deliberately within four walls: and the hour to act his thoughts had not yet arrived.

Angélique in her turn woke also: and, in the interval between dreaming and waking, missed her husband from her side. And now ensued a phenomenon which will certainly not seem to be the less strange because it happened to be true. It is not only in the hearts of women that what is strange is true, and that what is true is strange.

earth renders humanly pathetic what else | ing light woke him with its cold: and then were too divinely sublime. he rose once more and went again into Félix, then, had proved himself to be a the streets, one more wanderer to swell true Clare to be in no wise wanting in the sense of honour that, in his cousin's eyes, ought to be inseparable from one who bore what to the latter was the very name of names. "Non solum nomine Clarus" — the motto over the iron gates of the lodge-expressed the very basis upon which any one who claimed to be a Clare should found his claim. Until he had so proved himself, it was necessary that he should be stung to the proof: but now that the proof was no longer needed, it was for Hugh to put himself to the proof still more. If the reader, as is possible, does not quite see the drift of all this, he must be content to wait for the explanation: for the conduct of men like Hugh Lester is to be explained by deeds, not words. Consciously, his whole feeling amounted to this: that it was for himself, not for Félix, to be the sacrifice, since a sacrifice seemed to be needed, to the honour of the name: and he cxcused himself- for what young man who is inclined to pride himself upon his common sense and freedom from sentimental nonsense will ever own even to himself that his motives savour of the heroic and of the unworldly? on the ground that his own life had become worthless, and that it must not, under any circumstances, be open to the world to say that he had forced another into a duel in order that he might profit by his death.

And so he walked back to his home or rather to what had been his home for the last words of his wife had turned it into a mere place in which to feed and sleep. She had gone to bed, and he, who would have remorselessly disturbed from the sweetest of dreams one whose thoughts he believed to be his thoughts, and whose interests, of the heart as well as of outer life, to be no other than his own, now, in a sort of pity for what he felt she must herself have suffered, would not even run the risk of waking one whose ways and thoughts could never even so much as seem to be his again—and which in reality had never been his at any time. He therefore, having just glanced at her, shading the light that he held in his hand that it might not break her sleep, lay down upon a sofa in their sitting-room to wait for his own share of slumber, and his own holiday of dreams. His rest, however, was not of long duration, though fatigue and excitement made it, while it lasted, deep and sound. Th earliest mornVOL. XIX. 877

LIVING AGE.

The reader, it is to be feared, was never so much in love with the heroine of the first book of this history as he ought to have been - -as Félix, the inconstant, had once been, and as Hugh, the constant, in spite of all things, was still. It has already been said, in that same first book, that the charm of a beautiful woman is a thing not to be described: and accordingly she, like many another woman who wins hearts, may have provoked a little wonder at her success in two such diverse cases. Almost every woman who is gifted by nature with her kind of influence is a standing mystery to those who by circumstance or by good fortune do not fall within it: and verbal descriptions of those who are so gifted must necessarily appear as inconsistent with the actual effect of their magic upon men as the hideous pictures of the last queen of Scots with which art has favoured us are with the actual history of her whom they represent. But this is a simple narrative of facts, not of theories: and that Angélique, who, poor girl, could neither hinder her heart from keeping all its warmth for its owner, nor her hands from grasping at the main chance, should gain the love of two men, is no more against fact, and experience, and nature, than that the face of Queen Mary, as we know it, should have gained that of scores. If the lover sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt, he may far more easily see in a stone that muscle which, for some arbitrary and traditional reason, has been accepted as the seat of the soul. But the fact is and this is no mere truism, seeing that it is denied every day

that every woman is a woman after all. Though the reader may not have fallen in love with Angélique, he has gone very far astray indeed if in her he has admitted the possibility of there being such a thing

And as every woman is a woman, neither more nor less, Angélique, in spite of her general superiority to her sex, was, being a woman, no exception to this universal rule. She was no phoenix, though Félix and Hugh had thought her so.

showed the strength, not of evil, but of a nature of which her understanding could not conceive. And now she had not only found her master, but her instinct began to tell her, though not in words that she could hear, that it was so.

And so, when she found herself awake, she also, for the first time in her life, felt herself alone.

as a wholly consistent woman, any more the privilege of souls that dwell in a far than, as his own experience will doubtless more ethereal atmosphere than that in tell him, there is such a thing as a wholly which it is given to most of us, and not consistent man. Consistency is a very only to Angélique, to dwell. But of that phoenix, that exists wholly in fiction: and sort of love that is felt, if such things feel, since it is wholly false to nature, it should by the ivy for the tree round which it not by rights be found even there. climbs, she, being woman, felt the need even as other women do, whether they are capable of the higher love or no. It may safely be said that she was capable of following the greatest villain upon earth through an ocean of villany so long as by strength he showed himself her master: Most assuredly she had spoken with her and she was capable of following her maswhole heart when she had called her hus-ter, whenever he came, even though he band a fool. What else could she think him? But there are fagots and fagots, and there are fools and fools. Insane, or rather idiotic, as his conduct had been in submitting to throw away his and her chances for a mere idea, when by playing his cards decently well he might have won every trick upon the board, still he had done what she would never have had either the strength or the courage to do: and If so gross and prosaic a comparison — strength and courage, even though they gross enough and prosaic enough to be be exercised in folly, will have their weight worthy of Dick Barton himself— may be even with the wise. The most sensible of pardoned in speaking of so subtle and unwomen is bound to respect the most insane prosaic a thing as woman's soul, then let it of men whose insanity comes from an in- be said, in the face of bathos, that indulnate power of will to do that which he gence in violent passion is very like indulought, come what may. It is just those gence in brandy; it is the precursor of a who have not any particular virtue that terrible next morning-all the more terrespect that particular virtue the most of rible to those who are accustomed to the all, on the same principle as that on which water of the cold springs of life for their one of Lessing's heroines judged extra-daily beverage. Angélique had often had vagance to be her lover's only fault, be- her fits of ill-humour, as Marie and her cause economy was the only virtue that poor father had well known; but she had she had ever heard him praise. So it is very rarely, if ever, been in a passion bethe libertine who stands most in awe of fore. Her scene with Warden, in which the chaste nature for which he professes she had certainly not been herself, returned scorn and disbelief: and it is the weak to her in anything but pleasant colours to woman, strong only in impulse, who is brighten the misty morning that filled the most impressed by the sense of justice and room; and she lay turning it over in her of respect for the rights of others which mind for a good half-hour, in the same way belongs to and is the sign of a strong man. as, to continue the comparison, a man, temWith all her contempt, with all the rebel-perate by habit, turns over when he awakes, lion of her nature, Angélique uncon- and strives self-tormentingly to recall, the sciously felt that she had found her master: words that he spoke and the deeds he did and it may safely be said that she had never despised less than when she seemed most to despise. Even as it is womanlithat is to say, to go to the root of the matter, purity of soul-and not outward beauty, that most attracts and subdues a man, so it is manliness-that is to say, not intellect, but courage and truth -that most subdues a woman.

ness

Love in its fulness, which is nothing else than perfect sympathy, it may be that she was incapable of feeling: that is given but to very few men or women to feel: it is

when wine betrayed him the night before. She would have given much to have been able to rise in the light of kind eyes, and to have been able to support herself upon a strong hand.

But she arose, as she awoke, to be alone - to touch no strong hand, to meet no kind eyes, and she missed them as careless eyes miss some piece of furniture from a room that they had never noticed while it was there- some flower from the table where it had been daily placed by careful but uncared-for hands. In such a case, the feel