stone; but the last appellation he deemed of more honour than both the other two. Sidney was the beau ideal of his imagination; and he strove to follow his example in every action of his life.

While Lord Brooke was occupied as we have described, a short, though somewhat familiar tap, at the chamber-door, attracted his attention. ""Tis Ralph at last," he said; and at the same moment the door opened, and Heywood, divested of his cloak and cap, stood before him.

"Whither hast thou loitered, laggard?" mildly asked his lordship. "Forgot'st thou that my wonted hour of walking in the garden is well nigh overpast?"

"No, my good lord, I did not forget it," returned the retainer, flippantly; "I forget not my duty to thee, albeit" and he paused, as if afraid to give utterance to that which he meant should conclude the sentence.

"Albeit what?" said his lordship, gently. "Speak, Ralph; has any thing happened amiss to thee, that might excuse thy absence?"

Heywood advanced a step into the room; then, looking sternly at his master, he coldly replied, " My lord will pardon his servant when he adds, that he can never neglect his duty to his lord, albeit his lord may forget his duty to him."

The eyes of the aged nobleman flashed with fire, at the unexpected insolence of this reply.

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Ralph Heywood," he said, "thou hast been with me since thou wert a boy, and thou hast never been so far forgetful of thy duty as now. It was but yesterday that thou upbraidedst me, for not remembering thee in my will, when, Gramercy! thou art not forgotten.”

"The poor and mean pittance," said Heywood, scornfully, "which thou hast placed opposite my name in the will thou speak'st of-thy last, as it seems,-is scant worthy my acceptance, as not being such reward as long service, zeal, and fidelity like mine, might look for."

"Thou forget'st thyself, varlet," said the old lord. "Thou seek'st to be judge of thine own services. If their value were to be estimated by thy bearing now, this hour would cancel all. But I think better of thee

than to believe that thou wilt peril my favour, by per sisting in thy folly."

The attendant quailed for a moment under the rebuke; but, soon recovering all the native audacity of his disposition, he rejoined-" I know the full worth of thy favour. Thy testament has taught me that, at least. Thou should'st have had some other subscribing witness to it than Ralph Heywood."

" Thy being admitted to hear the contents yester morn, when my will was signed and sealed, was a mark of confidence reposed in thee, of which thy conduct since has shown thou wert altogether unworthy. But thou may'st retire for the present. I need not thy services at this time."

So saying, the aged lord threw himself into a chair, and waved his hand, as if to put an end to the conference. But Heywood had now thrown off all reverence for his master, and his passions, naturally fierce, being acted upon by the strong drink in which he had indulged in the previous part of the day, he was not disposed to yield the respectful obedience to the wishes of his lord which had been his wont. Instead of immediately quitting the room, therefore, as he ought to have done, he lingered for a moment or two near the door, as if irresolute whether to go or stay. Then suddenly advancing towards the table, as if about to give utterance to something, his attention was instantly attracted by a large sum in gold, which lay carelessly there, half concealed by the papers that were scattered beside it. Heywood had never proved himself a dishonest man, but he was an avaricious one, which is the next thing to it. His eyes glistened when he saw the gold-the demon entered into his soul-he now had a fair opportunity of indemnifying himself, for having been neglected in the will. This thought passed rapidly through his mind; the possession of the money was his next object. He was well aware, too, that his lord had many rare and curious valuables in that very room, and these he determined to obtain. He looked towards his master. He had taken up his manuscript, and had, apparently, resumed its perusal. Making a pretence of arranging the documents on the table, and placing the

books in order, Heywood contrived to convey the gold into his own pocket, resolved upon quitting the house immediately after he had secured his booty, and never returning. But he was not unobserved. Lord Brooke, suspecting his intentions from his movements, watched his proceedings narrowly; and as soon as he saw him take the money, he started up, and boldly taxed his unprincipled servant with his crime. Heywood stood, for a moment, confounded and guilt-struck; the colour forsook his cheeks, and he trembled in every joint. His first impulse was to restore the gold, and at once implore his master's pardon. And well had it been for him had he done so. He would then have been saved from deeper guilt; the result having proved the truth of the saying, that one crime generally leads to another. Recollecting, however, how inadequately he had been mentioned in the will, when others of his lord's retainers had been well remembered there, all the worse feelings of his nature were aroused; and recovering himself, he muttered something about-"now knowing what he had to expect from the liberality of one in whose service he had spent the best part of his life; and since he saw no prospect of being rewarded as he thought he deserved, he had taken the liberty to remunerate himself."

The patience of Lord Brooke was now exhausted, but he did not give way to rage; calmly he pointed to the door, and, without moving from his position, he slowly said

"Ralph Heywood, from this moment thou art no longer servant of mine. Take, if thou wilt, the gold which thou hast so wickedly appropriated to thyself; but quit my presence, and never let me see thee more.

"Be it so, Lord Brooke," exclaimed Heywood. "Thou hast absolved me of my duty, and now, at least, I may have liberty to speak my mind. Thou hast treated me as old domestics are wont to be used by those whom they serve. They spend the pith of their strength, and the best of their days, in the service of ungrateful masters, who, in their advanced years, dismiss them to penury and want."

Language so unmeasured as thine," observed the

old lord, "suits not thy position to utter, nor mine to hear, and I shall vouchsafe no other answer than this, that if thou remind'st thyself of certain of thy former misdeeds, which I have ever in kindness overlooked, thou wilt be at no loss to understand why thou art mentioned so slightly in my testament. I knew that thou wert self-willed and unsteady in conduct, but I knew not, till now, that I had cherished so near to me one who would not scruple to rob his benefactor."

Heywood felt for his dagger as he franticly exclaimed, "My lord, my lord, incense me no more with thy reproaches-they cut as with a knife, and I can no longer bear thy taunts."

"Thou hast thyself to blame," continued Lord Brooke, taking no notice of his agitation, "not only for thy small remembrance in my will, but also for thy dismissal from my service, which, by thy doings to-day, thou hast dishonoured."

"I shall dishonour it no longer," exclaimed Heywood, with a quick and sudden movement, which was unnoticed by Lord Brooke, who had turned towards the window, leaving his back exposed to his insolent retainer. On the instant, roused, as it were, to the highest pitch of madness, the ruffian unsheathed his dagger, and buried it deep beneath the left shoulder of his venerable lord. The poor old man fell forward on his face, and without a struggle, and almost without a groan, expired!

This was but the beginning of the tragedy. The end was conformable. The murderer gazed for a moment upon the corpse, as it lay before him on the blood-stained floor. No feeling of pity, no motive to repentance, passed across his soul. The most unhallowed rage had taken possession of his whole being. Disappointed in his prospects, and furious at being thwarted in his designs, and detected in the very act of robbery, he was driven, like one in a frenzy, to take the life of the man whom he had sworn to serve, honour, and protect; and he now felt a fiendish satisfaction at the bloody deed which he had committed. "My life is forfeited for this," he calmly said to himself, "and I shall not shrink from the penalty. Better to die at once than live an outcast and a beggar. But no scoundrel hangman shall

place his abhorred fingers on my throat. The same weapon may well mete the same fate. His blood, pure and noble as it is, shall mingle with the despised and menial stream which yet flows in the veins of his disgraced and discarded follower." Steady to his purpose, though even in that dreadful hour awed by the respect due to his murdered lord, he retired into an adjoining chamber, and, locking the door, stabbed himself to the heart with the still blood-wet dagger with which he had deprived his once honoured master of the precious boon of life; thus expiating, by his own hand, the horrid crime of which he had been guilty.*

The nobleman whose death was caused by a disappointed servant of his own, in the way which I have attempted to describe, was a poet of considerable power, and his name is still cherished among the approved writers of English verse. He was the eldest son of Sir Fulke Grevile, of Beauchamp's Court, at Alcester, in Warwickshire, at which place he was born in the year 1554. He was the cousin of Sir Philip Sidney, whose character was the admiration of that age, and he received the early part of his education with him at the Shrewsbury Grammar-school, founded by Edward the Sixth in 1561. On leaving school he was admitted a fellow-commoner at Trinity College, Cambridge, and subsequently went to Oxford, of which university he became a member. He afterwards travelled abroad, and on his return, being esteemed one of the most accomplished men of his time, he was introduced at court, then the proper arena for all aspiring spirits; and on the recommendation of his kinsman, Sir Henry Sidney (the latter being lord president of the Court of Marches and principality of Wales), he was appointed, before he was twenty-two years of age, to some very lucrative patent places in the said court. Notwithstanding his advantages at home, however, the young Grevile, who was very martially inclined, longed to be engaged in some active services abroad, but the imperious Elizabeth allowed no one to quit the kingdom without her consent. She withheld her permission, and he stole away incog. in the suite of Sir Francis Walsingham, when he went ambassador to the Netherlands. This act of contumaciousnessso incensed the Queen, that, on his return, she forbade him the court for some time. Among other projects, he concerted with his cousin, the gallant Sidney, who was equally imbued with the spirit of naval enterprise, which, indeed, was the characteristic of most of the great men of that age, to accompany Sir Francis Drake in his second last expedition to the West Indies, but in this they were foiled by the interference of the Queen, who had been apprised of their intention by the treachery of Drake. Grevile afterwards became a thorough courtier and a great favourite with Elizabeth. He seems to have possessed an easy, affable temper, with no small degree of good-nature. In Lord Bacon's Apothegms, it is related of him, that "he had much and private access to Queen Elizabeth, which he used honourably, and did many men good;" yet he would say merrily of himself, "that he was like Robin Goodfellow, for when the maids spilt the milkpans, or kept any racket, they would lay it upon Robin; so what tales the ladies about the Queen told her, or other bad offices that they did, they would put it upon