CHAPTER VIII.

"Then I must plunge again into the crowd
And follow all that pride disdains to seek;
Where revel calls, and laughter, vainly loud,
False to the heart, distorts the hollow cheek,
To leave the flagging spirit doubly weak."

"And she was lost, and yet I breathed;
But not the breath of human life:
A serpent round my heart was wreathed,
And stung my every thought to strife."

BYRON.

Ibid.

DURING the brief space of Moreton's continuance at Elleringay he felt most miserable, and though this extended but to two or three days, yet they seemed long as weeks. In the presence of his family he assumed a cheerfulness of demeanour, and essayed to

"make the cheek belie the heart."

Such

is indeed a difficult task. Where sorrow's sombre shadows fall, the transitory sunbeam may ever and anon light up the flitting smile. That smile is for a moment-another and another cloud of thought come sailing over the mental sky-the darkening shadows lower as before-then all the sad assurances of that sorrow still!

The wily father watched with lynx-eye every movement of his son, and when he beheld what he unfortunately mistook for true hilarity, he dreamt not of that settled determination to which the young soldier had inwardly arrived relative to matrimonial matters. He internally congratulated himself on having through a father's authority, and with a proper view to the general interests of the family, effectually and for ever averted an union so opposed to his wishes. He felt satisfied that, after Moreton had regained the garrison, when he had once more mingled with his dashing companions in arms-when other objects, fresh pleasures and pursuits occupied his mind—he would

finally forget one who had awakened in his bosom a mere fit of transient passion. The impressions made in youth, argued Godfrey, are writ in sand. The tide of time and the obliterating waves of life delete from memory's retreating shore thoughts imprinted on our early years!

On the morning of Moreton's departure, Godfrey ventured to volunteer a few words of advice touching the future conduct and prospects of his son. To such he respectfully listened. The father then recurred to a subject painful to both-reprobed a wound by no means healed over. "It would indeed-it would indeed," said Godfrey with an assumed air of friendly raillery, "have been in you absolutely ridiculous to think anything more of that dowerless girl-you a De Bohun-a descendant of the Plantage-"

"Sir!" interrupted the younger, with trembling lip, and pale with passion-" Sir, it is my duty to respectfully hearken to your counsel. This I have done so far as pertained to my conduct and progress in life. You are now entering upon a topic to which I

regret your having again referred. You have exceeded your parental prerogative-have spoken in a manner to inflict pain. You forget, sir, I am no longer the docile stripling, and if I ever shall arrive at years of discretion, I have done so now. The course I pursued was confiding and honourable. At your solicitation, in the generous spirit of a communicating friendliness, I made you privy to a matter which, for good or ill, will influence my destiny through life. In return, I received without argument-without feelingthe haughty answer, the arbitrary asseveration, the unrighteous declaration of your vindictive resolve. By such procedure you have forfeited my confidence-I fear, my esteem. Your look would essay at sympathy; 'tis mockery at my grief. Be not, as Hamlet says, 'like the painting of a sorrow, and wear a face without a heart.' I never reply to this subject again. I beseech you to hereafter be silent!"

Godfrey stood motionless. The stern and quiet energy of the speaker-the earnestness that sat on his lip-the decision of his eye

the erect bearing, and the proudly-swelling breast, convinced the former of his mistaken surmises; and, too, of the strong and inflexible character of his son, who was not to be schooled into obedience, not tamely silenced into submission. He looked upon the agitated countenance, the trembling frame, and something of pity, something of regret, crept into his ambitious bosom. They were about to part-that parting might be for ever! Godfrey waived further comment, and exclaimed, "Then I'll quote from Hamlet too

'O gentle son,

Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
Sprinkle cool patience.'

Moreton took his second departure from his paternal roof. It was one of no common kind; a host of emotions struggled in his bosom. He loved a being to idolatry-every contemplation, every project had reference to her. He was this time leaving his home under different circumstances-different feelings. Dangers and trials were in perspective, but dangers and trials to him conferred no Hamlet, Act III., Scene I.