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cious an adviser - a compliment order to recognise the advantages of which by no means consoled the mis- emigration. Another £100 a-year or erable Poole.

so, it is true, he might bargain for, In the briefest words, Alban in- and such a demand might be worth formed Darrell of his persuasion that conceding. But, on the whole, AlJasper was not only without evidence ban congratulated Darrell upon the to support a daughter's claim, but probability of hearing very little that the daughter herself was still more of the son-in-law, and no more in that part of Virgil's Hades appro- at all of the son-in-law's daughter. priated to souls that have not yet Darrell made no comment nor reappeared upon the upper earth, and ply. A grateful look, a warm presthat Jasper himself, although hold- sure of the hand, and, when the

subing back, as might be naturally ex- ject was changed, a clearer brow and pected, in the hope of conditions livelier smile, thanked the English more to his taste, had only to be left Alban better than all words. quietly to his own meditations in


Culonel Morley shows that it is not without reason that he enjoys his reputation of

knowing something about everybody. “Well met,” said Darrell, the day “Good," said Darrell, with his rare, after Alban had conveyed to him the manly laugh. “Being shy myself, comforting assurances which had I like men who meet one half-way. taken one thorn from his side-dis- I see that we shall be at our ease persed one cloud in his evening sky. with each other.” * Well met,” said Darrell, encounter- “And perhaps still more when I ing the Colonel a few paces from his tell you that he is connected with an own door. “Pray walk with me as old Eton friend of ours, and deriving far as the New Road. I have pro- great benefit from that connection ; mised Lionel to visit the studio of you remember poor Sidney Branthan artist friend of his, in whom he waite?” chooses to find a Raffaelle, and in “ To be sure. He and I were great whom I suppose, at the price of friends at Eton-somewhat in the truth, I shall be urbanely compelled same position of pride and poverty. to compliment a dauber.

Of all the boys in the school we two “Do you speak of Frank Vance ?" had the least pocket-money. Poor “ The same !"

Branthwaite ! I lost sight of him “ You could not visit a worthier afterwards. He went into the man, nor compliment a more pro- Church, got only a curacy, and died mising artist. "Vance is one of the young. few who unite gusto and patience, “And left a son, poorer than himfancy and brush work. His female self, who married Frank Vance's sisheads, in especial, are exquisite, ter.” though they are all, I confess, too “ You don't say so. The Branthmuch like one another. The man waites were of good old family; what himself is a thoroughly fine fellow. is Mr Vance's ?" He has been much made of in good "Respectable enough. Vance's society, and remains unspoiled. You father was one of those clever men will find his manner rather off-hand, who have too many strings to their the reverse of shy; partly, perhaps, bow. He, too, was a painter ; but because he has in himself the racy he was also a man of letters, in a freshness and boldness which he sort of a way-had a share in a jourgives to his colours ; partly, per- nal, in which he wrote Criticisms on haps, also, because he has in his the Fine Arts. A musical composer, art the self-esteem that patricians too. Rather a fine gentleman, I sustake from their pedigree, and shakes pect, with a wife who was rather a a duke by the hand to prevent the fine lady. Their house was much duke holding out to him a finger." frequented by artists and literary



men: old Vance, in short, was hos- which the critics all solemnly depitable—his wife extravagant. Be- posed to his surpassing riches-of lieving that posterity would do that imagination, rushed to the altar, justice to his pictures which his con- and sacrificed a wife to the Muses ! temporaries refused, Vance left to Those villanous critics will have a his family no other provision. After dark account to render in the next selling his pictures and paying his world! Poor Arthur Branthwaite ! debts, there was just enough left to For the sake of our old friend his bury him. Fortunately, Sir father, I bought a copy of his little the great painter of that day, had volume. Little as the volume was, already conceived a liking to Frank I could not read it through." Vance—then a mere boy-who had “What !-below contempt?” shown genius from an infant, as all “On the contrary, above compretrue artists do. Sir took him hension. All poetry praised by into his studio, and gave him les- critics nowadays is as hard to sons. It would have been unlike understand as a hieroglyphic. I Sir who was open-hearted but own a weakness for Pope and com: close-fisted, to give anything else. mon sense. I could keep up with our But the boy contrived to support his age as far as Byron ; after him I was mother and sister. That fellow, who thrown out. However, Arthur was is now as arrogant a stickler for the declared by the critics to be a great dignity of art as you or my Lord improvement on Byron-more poeChancellor may be for that of the tical in form'-more 'æsthetically bar, stooped then to deal clandes- artistic'—more ‘objective' or subjectinely with fancy-shops, and imitate tive' (I am sure I forget which, but

I Watteau on fans. I have now two it was one or the other, nonsensical, hand-screens that he painted for a and not English) in his views of man shop in Rathbone Place. I suppose and nature. Very possibly. All I he may have got 10s. for them, and know is—I bought the poems, but now any admirer of Frank's would could not read them; the critics read give £100 a-piece for them.”

them, but did not buy. All that "That is the true soul in which Frank Vance could make by paintgenius lodges, and out of which fire ing hand-screens and fans and album springs,” cried Darrell, cordially. scraps, be sent, I believe, to the poor "Give me the fire that lurks in poet; but I fear it did not suffice. the flint, and answers by light the Arthur, I suspect, must have been stroke of the hard steel. I'm glad publishing another volume on his Lionel has won a friend in such a own account. I saw a Monody man. Sidney Branthwaite's son mar- on something or other, by Arthur ried Vance's sister-after Vance had Branthwaite, advertised, and won reputation ?”

doubt Frank's fans and hand-screens “No; while Vance was still a boy. must have melted into the printer's Young Arthur Branthwaite was an bill.

But the Monody never aporphan. If he had any living rela- peared : the poet died, his young tions, they were too poor to assist wife too. Frank Vance remains a him. He wrote poetry much praised bachelor, and sneers at gentilityby the critics (they deserve to be abhors poets—is insulted if you prohanged, those critics !)---scribbled, I mise posthumous fame - gets the suppose, in old Vance's journal; saw best price he can for his picturesMary Vance a little before her father and is proud to be thought a miser. died; fell in love with her; and on Here we are at his door.” the strength of a volume of verse, in




Romantic Love pathologically regarded by Frank Vance and Alban Morley. Vance was before his easel, Lionel that day to Frank Vance. The two looking over his shoulder. Never inen took to each other at once, and was Darrell more genial than he was talked as familiarly as if the retired

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lawyer and the rising painter were Suppose, my dear Lionel, that we old fellow-travellers along the same light, one idle day, on a beautiful road of life. Darrell was really an novel, a glowing romance-suppose exquisite judge of art, and his praise that, by chance, we are torn from was the more gratifying because dis- the book in the middle of the intecriminating. Of course he gave the rest-we remain under the spell of due meed of panegyric to the female the illusion-we recall the scenesheads, by which the artist had be- we try to guess what should have come so renowned. Lionel took his been the sequel—we think that no kinsman aside, and, with a mourn- romance ever was so captivating, ful expression of face, showed him simply because we were not allowed the portrait by which all those vary- to conclude it. Well, if, some years ing ideals had been suggested--the afterwards, the romance fall again in portrait of Sophy as Titania. our way, and we open at the page

“And that is Lionel,” said the where we left off, we cry, in the artist, pointing to the rough outline maturity of our sober judgment, of Bottom.

'Mawkish stuff!-is this the same “Pish!” said Lionel, angrily. Then thing that I once thought so beautiturning to Darrell • This is the ful ?--how one's tastes do alter !”” Sophy we have failed to find, sir- DARRELL.-"Does it not depend is it not a lovely face ?"

on the age in which one began the “It is indeed,” said Darrell. “But romance ?” that nameless refinement in expres- LIONEL.—“Rather, let me think, sion—that arch yet tender elegance sir, upon the real depth of the interin the simple, watchful attitude, est-the true beauty of the-" these, Mr Vance, must be your addi- VANCE (interrupting).--"Heroine? tions to the original.”

-Not at all, Lionel. I once fell in “No, I assure you, sir," said Lio- love-incredible as it may seem to nel ; “besides that elegance, that re- you-nine years ago last January. finement, there was a delicacy in the I was too poor then to aspire to any look and air of that child, to which young lady's hand-therefore I did Vance failed to do justice. Own it, not tell my love, but 'let concealment,' Frank.”

et cetera, et cetera.

She went away “Reassure yourself, Mr Darrell,” with her mamma to complete her said Vance, "of any fears which Lió- education on the Continent. I renel's enthusiasm might excite. He mained 'Patience on a monument.' tells me that Titania is in America; She was always before my eyesyet, after all, I would rather he saw the slenderest, shyest creature-just her again-no cure for love at first eighteen. I never had an idea that sight like a second sight of the be- she could grow any older, less slender, loved object after a long absence.” or less shy. Well, four years after

DARRELL (somewhat gravely). — terwards (just before we made our "A hazardous remedy-it might kill, excursion into Surrey, Lionel), she if it did not cure."

returned to England, still unmarried. COLONEL MORLEY.-." I suspect, I went to a party at which I knew from Vance's manner, that he has she was to be-saw her, and was tested its efficacy on his own person.” cured.”.

LIONEL. "No, mon Colonel- “ Bad case of smallpox, or what?”. I'll answer for Vance. He in love! asked the Colonel, smiling. Never."

VANCE. - "Nayeverybody said Vance coloured-gave a touch to she was extremely improved--that the nose of a Roman senator in the was the mischief-she had improved famous classical picture which he herself out of my fancy. I had been was then painting for a merchant at faithful as wax to one settled imManchester – and made no reply. pression, and when I saw a fine, fullDarrell looked at the artist with a formed, young Frenchified lady, quite sharp and searching glance.

at her ease, armed with eye-glass and COLONEL MORLEY.—“Then all the bouquet and bustle, away went my more credit to Vance for his intuitive dream of the slim blushing maiden. perception of philosophical truth. The Colonel is quite right, Lionel ; the romance once suspended, 'tis a and you'll tease me no more to haunting remembrance till thrown give you that portrait of Titania at again in our way, but complete dis- watch over Bottom's soft slumbers. illnsion if we try to renew it; though All a Midsummer Night's Dream, I swear that in my case the interest Lionel. Titania fades back into the was deep, and the heroine improved arms of Oberon, and would not be in her beauty. So with you and that Titania if you could make her- Mrs dear little creature. See her again, Bottom.”

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Even Colonel Morley, knowing every body and everything, is puzzled when it comes to

the plain question—"Wbat will he do with it?


“I am delighted with Vance," said sapientiæ.' Yet I can scarcely beDarrell, when

he and the Colonel were lieve that you have ever been in again walking arm-in-arm. “His is love."

not one of those meagre intellects "Yes, I have," said the Colonel, which have nothing to spare out of bluntly, “and very often! Everythe professional line. He has humour. body at my age has-except yourself

. Humour-strength's rich superflu- So like a man's observation, that," ity.”

continued the Colonel, with much "I like your definition," said the tartness. “No man ever thinks anColonel. “And humour in Vance, other man capable of a profound and though fantastic, is not without sub- romantic sentiment !” tlety. There was much real kind- DARRELL. True; I own my ness in his obvious design to quiz shallow fault, and beg you ten thouLionel out of that silly enthusiasm sand pardons. So then you really for-”

believe, from your experi“For a pretty child, reared up to ence, that there is much in Vance's be a strolling player,” interrupted theory and your own very happy Darrell. "Don't call it silly en- illustration ? Could we, after many thusiasm. I call it chivalrous com- years, turn back to the romance passion. Were it other than com- at the page at which we left off, we passion, it would not be enthusiasm, should—” it would be degradation. But do COLONEL MORLEY.-“Not care a you believe, then, that Vance's con- straw to read on! Certainly, half fession of first love, and its cure, was the peculiar charm of a person bebut a whimsical invention ?"

loved must be ascribed to locality and COLONEL MORLEY. — “ Not so. circumstance.” Many a grave truth is spoken jest- DARRELL.—“I don't quite underingly. “I have no doubt that, allow- stand you." ing for the pardonable exaggeration

COLONEL MORLEY.—“Then, as you of a raconteur, Vance was narrating liked my former illustration, I will an episode in his own life.”.

explain myself by another one, more DARRELL-“Do you think that a homely. In a room to which you are grown man, who has ever really felt accustomed, there is a piece of furlove, can make a jest of it, and to niture, or an ornament, which so mere acquaintances ?”

exactly suits the place, that you say COLONEL MORLEY.—“Yes; if he be — The prettiest thing I ever saw ?' so thoroughly cured that he has made You go away-you return—the piece a jest of it to himself. And the more of furniture or the ornament has been lightly he speaks of it, perhaps the moved into another room.

You see more solemnly at one time he felt it. it there, and you say, Bless me, is Levity is his revenge on the passion that the thing I so much admired!' that fooled him.”

The strange room does not suit itDARRELL.—“You are evidently an losing its old associations and accesexperienced philosopher in the lore sories, it has lost its charm. So it is of such folly. Consultus insapientis with human beings — seen in one

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place, the place would be nothing effect a prolonged absence might pro-
without them-seen in another, the duce on your good resolution.”
place without them would be all the “No!” said Darrell, with sudden

animation. “Before three days are
DARRELL (musingly) -“There are over, my mind shall be made up."
some puzzles in life which resemble “Bravo as to whom of the three
the riddles a child asks you to solve. you would ask in marriage ?"
Your imagination cannot descend low “Or as to the idea of ever marrying
enough for the right guess. Yet, again. Adieu. I am going to knock
when you are told, you are obliged at that door.”
to say—How clever!' Man lives to “Mr Vyvyan's! Ah, is it so, in-

deed? Verily, you are a true Dare-all." “Since you have arrived at that “Do not be alarmed. I go afterconviction,” replied Colonel Morley, wards to an exhibition with Lady amused by his friend's gravity, “I Adela, and I dine with the Carr hope that you will rest satisfied with Viponts. My choice is not yet made, the experiences of Vance and myself; and my hand still free." and that if you have a mind to pro- “ His hand still free!” muttered pose to one of the young ladies whose the Colonel, pursuing his walk alone. merits we have already discussed, you “Yes—but, three days hence-What will not deem it necessary to try what will lie do with it ?"*

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Guy Darrell's Decision.

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Guy Darrell returned home from began to pace the room with his Carr Vipont's dinner at a late hour. habitual restlessness when in solitary On his table was a note from Lady thought-often stopping—often sighAdela's father, cordially inviting ing heavily.,. At length his face Darrell to pass the next week at his cleared-his lips became firmly set. country house.

London was now He summoned his favourite servant. emptying fast. On the table-tray was “Mills,” said he, “I shall leave town a parcel, containing a book which on horseback as soon as the sun rises. Darrell had lent to Miss Vyvyan Put what I may require for a day or some weeks ago, and a note from her- two into the saddle-bags. Possibly, self. In calling at her father's house however, I may be back by dinthat morning, he had learned that Mr ner-time. Call me at five o'clock, Vyvyan had suddenly resolved to and then go round to the stables. take her into Switzerland, with the I shall require no groom to attend view of passing the next winter in me.” Italy. The room was filled with The next morning, while the streets loungers of both sexes. Darrell had were deserted, no houses as yet astir, staid but a short time. The leave- but the sun bright, the air fresh, Guy taking had been somewhat formal, Darrell rode from his door. He did Flora unusually silent. He opened not return the same day, nor the next, her note, and read the first lines list- nor at all. But, late in the evening lessly; those that followed, with a of the second day, his horse, reekchanging cheek and an earnest eye. ing-hot and evidently hard-ridden, He laid down the note very gently, stopped at the porch of Fawley again took it up, and reperused. Then Manor-House ; and Darrell fung he held it to the candle, and it drop- himself from the saddle, and into ped from his hand in tinder. “The Fairthorn's arms.“ Back again..., innocen child,” murmured he, with back again-and leave no more!” a soft paternal tenderness; "she said he, looking round; “Spes et knows not what she writes.” He Fortuna valete !

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