against him by an ignominious death! Willingly would I resign all I have, and go out again naked and portionless into the world, if by so doing I could regain my innocence. But, no that is impossible!

I must therefore retain the part I have chosen. I must preserve the advantage I have purchased. I have bought this world's honours and wealth for myself and the little son that is left me, at a fearful price; and shall I make a voluntary surrender of them? Give me back, give me back, the mighty store that I gave in exchange, peace of mind, and an unstained conscience, and I am content. But I cannot consent to part at once with what I gave, and what I got. I can now lift up my head in the face of the world, and appear without reproach. The legal evidences of my succession are entire and complete. It is not in your power to shake them. This is the pillar of all the honours my country yields me; and on this foundation will I rest.

And why should you desire to disturb me? Your adopted son is happy at present. How can he be more so? You praise his docility, his acquirements, his generosity, the contentment and cheerfulness of his dispositions. Would he be happier, if he possessed those things to the inheritance of which he was born? Philosophers and moralists have agreed that a moderate condition in life is that which is most to be desired. You would strip me of all I possess. You would take from my child all that from the first dawning of his understanding he has been prompted to expect. You would brand upon my forehead and his the signature of dishonour. You would affix to the name of Herbert, and to the titles of Alton and Danvers, an everlasting disgrace. That disgrace would even contaminate the whole blood of the house, and rebound on your ward. And for what would you do this? To remove him from a situation with which he is satisfied, and place

him in one untried, for which no previous habits have prepared him, and in which he might find himself a stranger and a malcontent. You have at present what is to you and to him a competence. If you say, that you hold this by a precarious tenure, and that, when you die, he may be turned out an unprovided wanderer, I am contented to settle it upon the joint lives of both by the strictest bonds that can be devised. Accept these terms. Be satisfied with this, and whatever else I can do, short of upsetting all that is established, signing myself a villain, and bringing down the grey hairs of the earl Danvers, the head of our house, to the grave with anguish.

You possess a fearful power over me. Use it with moderation and temperance. Remember that I am a nobleman, the brother of him who rescued you from a jail, and whose name you reverence beyond every thing that ever bore the form of man. Can you bear to trample me in

the dust, to thrust me forth to universal scorn? This you believe to be in your power: but will you use your power to that end? No such evil can happen to your ward, if you yield to my expostulations. He may pass his days in usefulness and honour. He will regret nothing, for he knows not that he has lost anything. You were born the son of a cultivator of the earth, belonging to a cast of society essentially inferior to mine. In the order of things you could not approach to any one of the blood of the Altons and the Danverses, but to offer your services, and to receive our commands. A concurrence of circumstances has put it in your power to destroy me. But is it generous, is it noble, to use your power to that end? Remember too, that I could never have been placed in this precarious, ignoble situation without you. You stood in my presence in the crisis of my fate. There was that in your coun

tenance and manner, which suggested unlawful

contemplations, or cherished and warmed them into life, if they existed in embryo already. Cloudesley, you are my evil genius; you were my tempter! Man! having made me what I am, and destroyed my soul, can you have the daring to make use of this predicament in which we stand, to thrust me down to the pit, and think that you shall enter the rank of the angels in heaven? I do not mean to offend you. But I must speak. This is not a time for half-measures and temporising. Begone! Return to Italy from whence you came. Thus far you have done prosperously. You have reaped the advantage of your part of the conspiracy into which we entered. Do not think, having steeped your soul in villainy, to come forth as if you were without spot! Be content!

My whole soul seemed to take possession of every lineament of my countenance, as I spoke. The fervour of passion penetrated and devoured me. My voice swelled, and seemed to my own