anticipated other scenes in that undeveloped future, which might touch her own heart with a stronger thrill than even the marvellous change which was now working; perhaps the faint dawn of colour on her pale cheek came from an imagination far more immediate and personal than any dream which ever before had flushed the maiden firmament of Agnes Atheling's meditations. However that might be, she said not a single word upon the subject: she assumed to herself quietly the post of universal ministration, attended to the household wants as much as the little party, all excited and sublimed out of any recollection of ordinary necessities, would permit her; and lacking nothing in sympathy, yet quicker than any one, insensibly to her self formed the link between this little agitated world of private history and the larger world not at all moved from its everyday balance, which lay calm and great without.

"I sign a universal amnesty," said Miss Anastasia abruptly, after a long silence" himself, if he would consult his own interest, I could pass over his faults to-day.'

"Poor Mr Reginald!" said Mrs Atheling, wiping her eyes. "I beg your pardon, Miss Rivers; he has done a great deal of wrong, but I am very sorry for him: I was so when he lost his son; ah, no doubt he thinks this is a very small matter after that."

Agnes's neck to console and comfort her, as Agnes might have done to Marian had Louis been in distress instead of joy.

Agnes drew herself instinctively out of her sister's embrace. She had no right to be looked upon as the representative of Lionel, yet she could not help speaking, in her confidence and pride in him, with a kindling cheek and rising heart. "I am not sorry for Mr Rivers now," said Agnes, firmly; "I was so while this secret was kept from him-while he was deceived; but I think no one who does him due credit can venture to pity him now."

Miss Anastasia roused herself a little at sound of the voice. This pride, which sounded a little like defiance, stirred the old lady's heart like the sound of a trumpet; she had more pleasure in it than she had felt in anything, save her first welcome of Louis a few hours ago. She looked steadily into the eyes of Agnes, who met her gaze without shrinking, though with a rapid variation of colour. Whatever imputations she herself might be subject to in consequence, Agnes could not sit by silent, and hear him either pitied or belied.

"I wonder, may I go and see Miss Rivers? would it be proper?" asked Rachel timidly, making a sudden diversion, as Rachel had rather a habit of doing; "she wanted me to stay with her once; she was very kind to me.

99

"I suppose we must not call you the Honourable Rachel Rivers just yet; eh, little girl?" said Miss Anastasia, turning upon her; "and you, Marian, you little beauty, how shall you like to be Lady Winterbourne ?"

"No." Agnes affected no surprise that the question should be asked her, and did not even show any emotion. Marian, with a sudden impulse of generosity, got up instantly, and came to her sister. "Oh, Agnes, I am very sorry," said the little beauty, with her palpitating heart; and Marian put her pretty arms round

"Don't hide your head, little one; it is quite true," said Miss Anastasia, once more a little touched at her heart to see the beautiful little figure, fain to glide out of everybody's sight,

stealing away in a moment into the natural refuge, the mother's shadow; while the mother, smiling and sobbing, had entirely given up all attempt at any show of self-command. Agnes has something else to do in this hard-fighting world. You are the flower that must know neither winds

nor storms. I don't speak to make you vain, you beautiful child. God gave you your lovely looks, as well as your strange fortune; and Agnes, child, lift up your head! the contest and the trial are for you; but not, God forbid it! as they came to me."

Louis and Rachel returned that night with Miss Anastasia to the Priory, which, the old lady said proudly-the family jointure house for four or five generations-should be their home till the young heir took possession of his paternal house. The time which followed was too busy, rapid, and exciting for a slow and detailed history. The first legal steps were taken instantly in the case, and proper notices served upon Lord Winterbourne. In Miss Anastasia's animated and anxious house dwelt the Tyrolese, painfully acquiring some scant morsels of English, very well contented with her present quarters, and only anxious to secure some extravagant preferment for her son. Mrs Atheling and her daughters had returned home, and Louis came and went constantly to town, actively engaged himself in all the arrangements, full of anxious plans and undertakings for the ease and benefit of the other parties concerned. Miss Anastasia, with a little reluctance, had given her consent to the young man's plan of a compromise, by which his uncle, unattacked and undisgraced, might retire from his usurped possessions with a sufficient and suitable income. The ideas of Louis were magnificent and princely. He would have been content to mulct himself of half the revenues of his inheritance, and scarcely would listen to the prudent cautions of his advisers. He was even reluctant that the first formal steps should d be taken before Mr Foggo and an eminent and well-known attorney, personally acquainted with his uncle, had waited upon Lord Winterbourne. He was overruled; but this solemn deputation lost no time in proceeding on its mission. Speedy as they were, however, they

VOL. LXXXI.-NO. CCCCXCIX.

were too late for the alarmed and startled peer. He had left home, they ascertained, very shortly after the late trial-had gone abroad, as it was supposed, leaving no information as to the time of his return. The only thing which could be done in the circumstances was hastened by the eager exertions of Louis. The two lawyers wrote a formal letter to Lord Winterbourne, stating their case and making their offer, and despatched it to the Hall, to be forwarded to him. No answer came, though Louis persuaded his agents to wait for it, and even to delay the legal proceedings. The only notice taken of it was a paragraph in one of the fashionable newspapers, to the effect that the late proceedings at Oxford, impugning the title of a respected nobleman, proved now to be a mere trick of some pettifogging lawyer, entirely unsupported, and likely to call forth proceedings for libel, involving a good deal of romantic family history, and extremely interesting to the public. After this Louis could no longer restrain the natural progress of the matter. He gave it up, indeed, at once, and did not try; and Miss Anastasia pronounced emphatically one of her antique proverbs, "Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad."

This was not the only business on the hands of Louis. He had found it impossible, on repeated trials, to see the Rector. At the Old Wood House it was said that Mr Rivers was from home; at his London lodgings he had not been heard of. The suit was given against him in the Ecclesiastical Courts, and Mr Mead, alone in the discharge of his duty, mourned over a stripped altar and desolated sanctuary, where the tall candles blazed no longer in the

2 P

religious gloom. When it became evident at last that the Rector did not mean to give his young relative the interview he sought, Louis, strangely transformed as he was from the petulant youth always ready to take offence to the long-suffering man, addressed Lionel as his solicitors had addressed his uncle. He wrote a long letter, generous and full of hearty feeling; he reminded his kinsman of the favours he had himself accepted at his hands. He drew a very vivid picture of his own past and present position. He declared, with all a young man's fervour, that he could have no pleasure even in his own extraordinary change of fortune, were it the means of inflicting a vast and unmitigated loss upon his cousin. He threw himself upon Lionel's generosity-he appealed to his natural sense of justice-he used a hundred arguments which were perfectly suitable and in character from him, but which, certainly, no man as proud and as generous as himself could be expected to listen to; and, finally, ended with protesting an unquestionable claim upon Lionel the claim of a man deeply indebted to, and befriended by him. The letter overflowed with the earnestness and sincerity of the writer; he assumed his case throughout with the most entire honesty, having no doubt whatever upon the subject, and confided his intentions and prospects to Lionel with a complete and anxious confidence, which he had not bestowed upon any other living man.

This letter called forth an answer, written from a country town in a remote part of England. The Rector wrote with an evident effort at cordiality. He declined all Louis's overtures in the most uncompromising terms, but congratulated him upon his altered circumstances. He said he had taken care to examine into the case before leaving London, and was thoroughly convinced of the justice of the new claim. "One thing I will ask of you," said Mr Rivers; "I only wait to resign my living until I can be sure of the next presentation falling into your hands. Give it to Mr Mead. The cause of my withdrawal is entirely private and personal. I had resolved upon

it months ago, and it has no connec tion whatever with recent circumstances. I hope no one thinks so meanly of me as to suppose I am dismayed by the substitution of another heir in my room. One thing in this matter has really wounded me, and that is the fact that no one concerned thought me worthy to know a secret so important, and one which it was alike my duty and my right to help to a satisfactory conclusion. I have lost nothing actual, so far as rank or means is concerned; but, more intolerable than any vulgar loss, I find a sudden cloud thrown upon the perfect sincerity and truth of some whom I have been disposed to trust as men trust Heaven."

The letter concluded with good wishes-that was all; there was no response to the confidence, no answer to the effusion of heartfelt and fervent feeling which had been in Louis's letter. The young man was not accustomed to be repulsed; perhaps, in all his life, it was the first time he had asked a favour from any one, and had Louis been poor and without friends, as he was or thought himself six months ago, such a tone would have galled him beyond endurance. But there is a charm in a gracious and relenting fortune. Louis, who had once been the very armadillo of youthful haughtiness, suddenly distinguished himself by the most magnanimous patience, would not take offence, and put away his kinsman's haughty letter with regret, but without any resentment. Nothing was before him now but the plain course of events, and to them he committed himself frankly, resolved to do what could be done, but addressing no more appeals to the losing side.

Part of the Rector's letter Louis showed to Marian, and Marian repeated it to Agnes. It was cruelit was unjust of Lionel-and he knew himself that it was. Agnes, it was possible, did not know-at all events she had no right to betray to him the secrets of another; more than that, he knew the meaning now of the little book which he carried everywhere with him, and felt in his heart that he was the real person addressed. He knew all that quite as well

she did, as she tried, with a quivering lip and a proud wet eye, to fortify herself against the injustice of his reproach, but that did not hinder him from saying it. He was in that condition-known, perhaps, occasionally to most of us-when one feels a certain perverse pleasure in wounding one's dearest. He had no chance of mentioning her, who occupied so much of his thoughts, in any other way, and he would rather put a re

proach upon Agnes than leave her alone altogether; perhaps she herself even, after all, at the bottom of her heart, was better satisfied to be referred to thus, than to be left out of his thoughts. They had never spoken to each other a single word which could be called wooing-now they were perhaps separated for ever

yet how strange a link of union, concord, and opposition, was between these two!

MY DEAR IRENÆUS,—I wonder what you would have done had you been her Britannic Majesty's Plenipotentiary at Canton. Trust a quondam member of the Peace Society, with warlike weapons at his disposal, and a quarrel to use them in! Why has Manchester rejected its peaceloving representatives? Why does Huddersfield turn its back on Richard Cobden? I suspect it is because the electors have begun to see that the peace-cry is a sham; and that as the Pacific Ocean is in reality a misnomer, that sea being one of the most treacherous on the face of the earth, and occasionally liable to terrific storms, so the members of the Peace Society are only wolves in sheep's clothing, gladiators in drab. And England does not love shams, and wishes to be represented by real men, whatever their principles are. I proved to you, much to my own satisfaction, if not to yours also, some time ago, that of all members of society professional soldiers are the most amiable as well as the peacefullest, and that a nation is likely to live on good terms with its neighbours in proportion to its military character. I do not want to pass a judgment on this wretched Chinese quarrel; we may be still, for all I know, in the right, and Sir J. Bowring's conduct defensible; but

our antecedents are suspicious. If the British lion be really a lion, and not a domestic cat, it would look much better, and sound much better, if he would prefer matching himself in fight with beasts of his own size, to doing so with those who are so manifestly his inferiors. My large dog, who resembles a lion as much as anything canine can anything feline, always makes a point of measuring the inches of every dog he meets, and, although exceedingly fond of a tussle with a beast of his own weight, will take almost any impertinence from anything lower in rank than a setter -not to say that he has the chivalry never to resent any affront at the hands, or rather the paws, of the ladies of his species. It is not so very long ago that a black man, a British subject, was taken out of a merchant-ship in a harbour of the United States, and impounded, according to the local law, until the ship set sail again. Yet the circumstance led to no consequences comparable to those resulting from the seizure of the Britannically-protected Chinamen on board the forcha Arrow. But I do not wish to prejudge the case. The Ministerial papers say that the Emperor of China approves of our chastening his lieutenant. So did Prexaspes in Herodotus applaud Cambyses' shoot

ing when he put an arrow into the heart of his son. The Emperor of China probably fears that the outer barbarians may give the last push to that dynasty which the inner rebels have been so long undermining, and his submission is only a proof that he is, under the circumstances, more wise than romantic. Generally, I dislike the peace party, and I am glad to see them losing their influence; but they may have stumbled on justice in this case, and then, as often happens in life, having done what was right for the first time in their lives, they suffered for it the punishment due to a long course of misdeeds. But as far as Lord Palmerston's own comfort is concerned, I think he made a mistake in dissolving Parliament. The last was somewhat mulish in its nature-would put back its ears sometimes, or shy a little, just to show it had a will of its own; the next may possibly take the bit in its mouth and run away with him; and though he has a good seat, no doubt, and a tight hand, he is getting an elderly gentleman. To my eyes the present election-lists look dangerously democratic, and mischief may come of it to other old gentlemen besides the Premier. Are we not got to the bottom of the hill of democracy yet? I thought we were ; and it is pleasant, in rolling down a steep, to know that the bottom has been reached, and to be enabled to congratulate oneself in having escaped with nothing worse than bruises. Amongst other ominous signs of the times, I had a dream the other night of the nightmare genus, which gave me for the time a sensation far from pleasant.

Methought in the dead of the night there appeared to me one who guideth the destinies of Maga. He brought in his hand a flat pamphlet like publication in green cover, something like a number of the Cottage Gardener; and he said, This is the first of the new series of the Magazine. I have altered its shape in deference to the spirit of the age, substituting long lines for the columns, changing the colour to one pleasanter to the eye; and instead of the grim old man's head, I leave a

space for the names of contributors on the back-&c. &c. Ask me how I felt? I felt as if a grandmother, respected as an oracle, had come out at an evening party with a low neck, an enormous skirt, and one of those very pretty head-dresses that my nieces wear, at the back of a brown wig. The crisis of the nightmare was come; I awoke with a shudder, and, to my inexpressible delight, fumbling under the pillow, found Maga in her natural condition; that is, in a state of health and strength, which, as it increases with her years, appears to stamp her with immortality; and still strong in the grand internal columnar structure like that of a basaltic rock, majestic as Arthur's Seat, which overhangs the site of her monthly genesis.

It might be flattering to the vanity of contributors to have their names printed at the back, as the contributors to the Revue des deux Mondes have theirs printed at the ends of their articles under imperial compulsion; but what a desecration to the hallowed and mysterious connection! For is not the old age of Maga rather the immortal youth of a goddess, and do not her several contributors stand to her somewhat in the light of Numa to Egeria? Fancy that bower of Egeria turned into a conservatory, and those divine rendezvous made a public spectacle !

We met in secret, doubly sweet

Some say they find it so to meet. And as a sequel to my dream, I ruminated on the sacredness of eld, and the undoubted shocks that the feelings of a well-regulated mind receive by the disturbance of old associations. It follows as a corollary, that there is scarcely any intellectual pleasure equal to that received by the reproduction of the Past, and the resuscitation of the men and manners of ages past away; far greater, indeed, is it than the introduction of new forms and personages on the stage of life. There is no very essential difference between Mahommedanism and Mormonism: but how much more respectable is the elder misbelief! Here am I in Oxford, where the spirit of change is at work as elsewhere, but with a danger pro