speculator, the baffled trader, but the generous relative, who, nobly forgiving past injuries, had conferred on him the boon he prized most on earth, the hand of his Mary, coupled with a portion of princely munificence. He remembered, with a thrill of generous emotion, that the noble confidence with which the estate had been bestowed upon him (untrammelled by deeds or conditions) would enable him to step forth, in his turn, and rescue his benefactor from worse than death-dishonour. Freely he had received, freely he would give.

By slow degrees, Herbert Dudley drew from his uncle, the amount of his liabilities and the nature of the transactions in which he had been engaged. He gathered from Mr. Dudley's broken phrases that he was more sinned against than sinning. Such a conviction was not enough, the fair fame of a Dudley must be cleared up to the world. Herbert vowed that if the sacrifice of every worldly good would suffice, his uncle's grey hairs should not go down with sorrow to the grave, the evening of his days should not sink into the black night of dishonour. Once roused, Herbert was energetic and determined; he spurned the law's delay, and effected a settlement highly honourable to his uncle. Before he closed the eyes of the man for whom he was prepared to sacrifice so much, he breathed in his ear the welcome tidings that every just debt should be discharged, that his honour-the honour of the Dudleys-would never be impugned. A look of unutterable love and gratitude was his reward.

With a fervent blessing and prayer for pardon the dying man sank back, and the spirit returned to Him who gave it.

Herbert Dudley went back to the Wilderness, a ruined but by no means a miserable man. He enjoyed the blessed consciousness that when weighed in the balance, he had not been found wanting.

Mr. Dudley's creditors, struck with the magnanimity of the nephew in coming forward voluntarily to pay his uncle's debts, allowed ample time for all necessary

arrangements. Several months elapsed before it was publicly known that the estate, commonly called the Wilderness, together with the manor-house, valuable furniture, books, pictures, &c. &c., in possession of Herbert Dudley, Esq., were to come to the hammer.

The unlooked-for tidings spread sorrow and consternation throughout the county. Herbert Dudley had no enemies; and rich and poor vied with each other in expressions of the warmest sympathy. There were two individuals, however, whose feelings of regret were not confined to words; these were Dr. Leicester, the rector of the parish, and the Earl of Wentworth, an old and intimate friend.

Many hours had not elapsed, since the news, for once not exaggerated in its melancholy import, had saddened the inhabitants of the Rectory, before Dr. Leicester was on his way to the Wilderness, whither he bent his steps, anxious to offer condolence, advice, or any assistance that might be available, to his unfortunate friend and esteemed parishioner.

It was a bright summer morning, and the worthy divine paused repeatedly as he traversed the park, in order to admire the beauty of the scenery. But the beauty grew painfully obtrusive, when he recalled the object of his visit. His spirits sank when the venerable manor, so recently restored to the sway of a Dudley, rose before his eyes. He contrasted the years during which the manor had been closed to all comers, or let to some sporting squire, whose orgies had desecrated the deserted halls of the "ancient familye," with the seasons of kindly intercourse and unbounded hospitality which had distinguished the reign of the present proprietor. The Doctor sighed, and felt inclined to murmur at the vagaries of fortune. His thoughts wandered to the fair young wife, sleeping in the ancient vault of the Dudleys, while a vision of the beautiful child who must go forth upon the wide world, beggared in the spring-time of life, brought a choking sensation to his throat, and a mist before his eyes.

He, the consoler, stood in need of consolation. With a vigorous effort he shook off these symptoms of weakness, and advanced rapidly towards the house. The dejected air of the servant who answered his hasty summons went far to confirm the truth of the rumour which had agitated the rector to such an unwonted degree. In a husky voice he demanded whether Mr. Dudley were at home to visitors. The man answered in the affirmative, and led the way to the library.

Herbert Dudley was seated in his favourite oriel; the window commanded a fine view over the park and surrounding country. He was immersed in papers, and his countenance wore an expression of deep dejection, as he wearily examined their contents. He rose when Dr. Leicester was announced, and advanced to meet him, with extended hand.

"This is kind," he said warmly. "You come to sympathize with me in my grief."

"I come to learn the truth of the reports which have spread sorrow and consternation for many miles around," replied the Rector. "For Heaven's sake, Dudley, set my mind at ease. There must be gross exaggeration or misrepresentation. You shake your head! You put up your estate to auction-the step is a strange one-but it does not necessarily follow

that you are a ruined man. Bah! your uncle's

wealth

The Rector paused-something in Herbert's countenance warned him that he was treading upon delicate ground.

"My dear doctor, to you, as an old and valued friend, I will explain in few words, the circumstances which have led to this catastrophe." He paused, then added in a voice he vainly endeavoured to steady, "You know the bitter anguish with which my poor uncle lamented his daughter's death. He grew restless and discontented; he pined for change of scene, craved some all-engrossing employment. He went up to London, and sought oblivion in"

scomy.

t moiing, but

Cister up the

ompany, rich shall be nameless. Le sane. t that of his ward, azanicd ... the same tran skiff. The

acie s Cres

were

è m 12 a wrought, is -pramings would have eter. u can divine the what to my uncie

rosperity.

ISA .10 and from a Quixotic ast vnterruntca the Loctor.

len if no man shail lie cat Dudley, Mary's

Gry shild

moved a competent For the sakе

The Doctor hesitated, he was deeply moved. The workings of the tathers countenance showed how bitter porn the reflections suggested by the name of his He conquered is motion, and said, with firm

"He who provides for the young ravens will not foreske my child. Nor am I vhour guiltless in this matter Had I been less selfish. less wrapped up in my grief, I might have checked Mary's father in his mod career; I might have discovered that the hour of reckoning would find me a beggar. My own

་་

are frittered away, my uncle's riches have goode themselves wings, but I do not despair: 'May Cloud his favourable, may man be propitious!' talent f have hitherto wrapped in a napkin may yet og forth fruit abundantly."

will not pursue the conversation further.
reluctantly agreed that if the sacrifice must be

made, the sooner the affair was settled the better. He blamed Dudley bitterly for the chivalrous feeling which had induced him to have recourse to law, instead of appealing to the generosity of his uncle's ward, and thus effecting a more advantageous compromise. "Every man buys his experience, why should that young fool be wholly spared?" Nay, if the truth must be confessed, the worthy divine was heard to mutter an oath which was peculiarly unclerical in its import.

Mr. Dudley replied that the circumstances of the case were peculiar; that the youth, who had the misfortune to excite the Doctor's wrath, was placed under his uncle's protection, in order to save him from the ruinous consequences of

"But enough of this, my resolution is irrevocable. The sale of the Wilderness, of all my goods and chattels, will raise a sum sufficient to cover the loan advanced."

Herbert Dudley rose from his seat, and paced rapidly up and down the library. Dr. Leicester sighed and took a reluctant farewell of Mr. Dudley, having first extracted a promise that he and Florence should take up their abode at the Rectory, until some definite plan were formed as to their future career.

Dr. Leicester was thoroughly bewildered; he had ever regarded Mr. Dudley as one of those merchant princes whose wealth is all but fabulous. That he should not have ruined himself only, but his ward also, appeared a monstrous fiction. Dr. Leicester, who was gentilhomme de la tete aux pieds, in his secret soul, approved of Herbert Dudley's resolution. The sale of the estate would cover the sum appropriated by the unfortunate speculator. So far all was well; but Dudley had confessed that he had exceeded his income, and had no funds to fall back upon in this terrible dilemma.

Dr. Leicester was wandering in the gardens, in a very disconsolate mood, when a light step rapidly approached, and a little hand was laid upon his arm.

с