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“Mr. Tyrrell,” replied Ida, with spirit, “ your in order to avenge her outraged nerves upon the agitation excuses you ; but if you were yourself offender. She held her hand tightly over her heart, you would hardly have suspected my father of as if she were afraid lest it should actually leap anything which conscience could find a difficulty out of her body, and the inner corners of her eyein justifying. He is as ignorant of—of this as brows had a most irregular and agonized expresI was till a few days ago.

sion, bearing no proportion at all to anything less “Of this !" he repeated, with singular anima- than murder. Elderly ladies often do this, espetion. “ Then I am right! How could I be mis- cially if a door is shut suddenly, or if a dog, betaken ? Yet how-what is it--what can it longing to any person whom they do not like,

barks near the window. They do it so well from He sat down, muttering to himself, like a man long practice that their unsuspecting juniors are completely overpowered, yet in a moment resumed sometimes beguiled into believing that they are his inquiry, hurriedly, and as if he feared lest enduring a great shock with remarkable heroism. any forgettulness on his part should enable Ida to “My dearest Ida !” added aunt Melissa, in a escape.

tone of tragic appeal, looking daggers at the poor “ Miss Lee,” he said, earnestly, “ you must girl, who answered her hesitatingly, and scarce surely feel for me ;-this is no place for such an audibly. “Oh! I beg your pardon! I was only explanation—if explanation there be. I declare startled.” to you, I feel as if my reason were tottering and Mr. Tyrrell forestalled the coming storm. falling. I entreat of your humanity—I have a “Miss Lee did not know that I was near her till right to demand of your justice, to insist, to com- I touched her shoulder,” said he. “She resemmand, that you will either give me an explanation, bles you, in the fragility of her nerves let us or suffer me to obtain it for myself.”

hope that the resemblance may not stop here. But Ida covered her face with her hands.

I am quite ashamed to have caused such a com“ You have a right—of course you have a motion.” right,” she exclaimed. “Oh, what shall I, what “ I was afraid somebody was hurt,” said Meought I to do?"

lissa, in a faint, cross tone ; the compliment having “Can there possibly be any question of right,a little subdued her, though it was not quite strong asked Tyrrell, in an unsteady voice, “ where it is enough to conquer her altogether. a husband who asks you to give him an account “Yes, indeed,” replied Mr. Tyrrell, “ you of a wife, whom, for five years, he has supposed look quite pale. You should take more care of to be dead? Can this be a case for hesitation or yourself—indeed, you should. You exert yourself for scruples ? At least, can anything prevent too much. Let me persuade you to lie down for me from satisfying myself if you will not satisfy half-an-hour. Miss Ida Lee and I'—(he had

drawn Ida's arm within his own, and she did not “Mr. Tyrrell,” cried Ida, weeping, and taking dare resist him)" are going to take a turn in his hand in hers, “ will you not forgive her? She the garden.” Now, pray lie down on the sofa, has done wrong, but she has suffered, oh, so much! and rest, and let us find you with a little more She has been nearly dying—she is very misera- color in your cheeks on our return. You will be ble. She has been my kind friend-my dear quite knocked up." mother. Oh! how shall I do my duty both by He led the ladies into the drawing-room while her and by you?”

he spoke ; and did not rest until he had fairly deHe withdrew his hands, and answered her cold-posited aunt Melissa on the sofa, having confused ly, a whole flood of bitterness rising in his proud her into a sort of practical belief that Ida's seream heart, now beginning to recover from its first over- was somehow or other the result of her own overpowering emotion.

exertion, and that she must certainly take more “Pardon me,” said he ; " but this conflict of care of herself in future. It was done very rapduty should never have been imposed upon you. idly, and before Ida had recovered her astonishYou must allow me to take the matter into my ment at the audacity of his acting, and his presence own hands."

of mind, she found herself alone with him in the Ida shrieked, and darted before the door of the garden. Silently and tremblingly she suffered room. The one sole idea that possessed her was him to place her on a bench; she struggled that if Tyrrell were to enter that chamber Made- to collect her thoughts, anticipating what was line would assuredly and instantly die.

coming, but pure vague fear was literally her Hitherto they had spoken very low, with that only feeling. unconscious consideration of outward circumstances “ Miss Lee,” said he gently but resolutely, and difficulties which seldom forsakes us, even when “ I beg your pardon for having distressed you ; under the influence of violent emotion. Ida's I am sure I need make no apology, nor can I scream was, however, audible beyond the pre- pause to consider custom or politeness_such a cincts of the lobby; and a third person was im- position as mine must make its own rules. I am mediately added to their colloquy in the shape of going to leave you for ten minutes—you require aunt Melissa.

a little time for consideration, and I would not “ What is the matter ?—what is the matter?" take you by surprise. At the end of that time I exclaimed she, assuming double the alarm she felt, I shall return, and if you do not then think it right to


answer my questions, I must proceed to obtain the sand she could not answer one of Mr. Tyrrell's information I require for myself. I do not mean questions without a breach of confidence as real this as a threat ; but no other way is left me." as if she were to show him the book. Passion,

He did not give her time to answer, but with pride, feeling, delicacy, would all combine to drew at once to the further end of the walk ; not make Madeline averse that he should see it if she so far, however, as to be out of sight of the bench knew of it beforehand, yet if her better self could on which Ida was sitting.

decide for her unbiassed it would surely decide in The moment Ida was left alone she buried her the affirmative. Might not Ida, then, decide the face in her hands, and prayed for guidance with her question thus for her ; would not Madeline be the whole heart. For the first time in her life she first to thank and bless her for it when she found felt that she could not tell right from wrong; she the happy consequences of the act ? Ida closed was compelled to act, and there were but two her eyes, and her young fresh fancy built up a pathis before her ; to each she was invited by a beautiful castle in a moment. She saw Madeline duty-from each repelled by a crime. Madeline and Tyrrell happy, reconciled, and mutually forhad sinned in casting off her husband's authority giving ; she went quickly into the details of their —that authority was indelible, the work of God future life ; she saw their child growing up beand not of man ; it could not be right to shield tween them in strength and loveliness ; she saw her from it, to aid her in escaping it. But Mad- the brightness and tranquillity of evening richly eline had trusted Ida, and it would be base indeed, repaying her friend for the storms and sorrows of to betray her fearless, unsuspecting confidence. the day ; she even saw how Tyrrell fell ill, and These two points presented themselves again and Madeline nursed him with all possible tenderness again to poor Ida's gaze, and as often she turned and devotion ; and how, as he looked up gratefulaway blinded by tears and unable to pronounce a ly in her face, and pressed her hand as she stooped decision. She tried to separate and arrange her over him, they both remembered their early misthoughts. The secret was discovered ; that was ery and disunion, and thanked Ida in their hearts evident, and in that she had no part-it would be for the daring steps which had brought them tomere child's play, it would be altogether unwor-gether, and taught them to know each other. No thy to assume the appearance of concealment any way but this could have achieved the same end, longer; she was truth itself, and she could not do for Madeline would never have told—could never this. If she could prevail upon him to wait a have even suggested the half of what she had week, till Madeline's health was sufficiently re-written ; and wounded pride and suppressed feeling stored for her to decide for herself—at present she would have thrown a thousand disguises over her dreaded agitation for her too much to venture to real nature, and given false emphasis to every tone, put the question before her. All the while Ida and cold expression to every look. But the picnever varied for a moment from her belief that ture which she had drawn of herself in that jourMadeline was bound to return to her husband, and nal was living and irresistible—one look was at all risks she must indeed do this. If she conviction. should not get better (and Ida wept at the thought) And here Ida paused to ask herself one more she must be told, even if it were to kill her, that question, “ Are not the results of all man's acshe may be able to do right before she dies. Ida tions in God's hands ?” And the burning words shuddered at the thought of her false tenderness wrote themselves upon her heart, “ Thou shalt leading her to commit so great a crime against her not do evil that good may come.” friend as to help her in doing wrong, or lose her The ten minutes were past, and Mr. Tyrrell the opportunity of atonement. At that moment returned :she felt ready to go to her without hesitation, and “ Understand me," said he, before she had time make her aware of the truth at all hazards. Then to speak, “ I am not going to force, to urge,

not even the idea suddenly presented itself-could any to suggest any line of action which may prove to means be wrong which might bring about a recon- be repugnant to—your friend. She has decided ciliation without injuring Madeline's health? The for herself in the first instance; she shall do so journal—if Mr. Tyrrell could but see it, Ida felt again now. But I have a right to know the certain that all his anger would be turned into grounds of her original decision ; I have a right," pity, sympathy, self-accusation, love-she felt he added, a certain degree of passion becoming certain that he would then treat Madeline with the observable in his tone, in spite of his effort to tenderest consideration ; that all would be well maintain entire composure of demeanor, “ to know between them. This journal was in her posses- all; and I will know it from some means or from sion-could it be wrong to give it to him? Were some source.” she to ask Madeline's permission, she felt sure that “Mr. Tyrrell,” said Ida in a low trembling it would be refused ; besides, the very asking per- voice, “ I have made up my mind what to do ; I mission would of course involve a revelation of all only wish to do right, and if I do wrong it is from the cireumstances. Could it be wrong to serve mistake, not from intention. You have every reaMadeline without her consent, to make her plead son to feel outraged and indignant; all I ask is for herself, instead of trying ineffectually and feebly that you will wait. Listen to me, pray, only for to plead for her! All that Ida knew of her his- one moment. This is my dearest, kindest, best tory was derived from the pages of that journal, friend next to my father : overcome with agitation, and under the influence of fever, she has confided more of silence and tears, seven nights of restless the secrets of her life to me; she could not speak, ness and doubt and weary pain, and she will be but she put into my hands a journal which she far less fit to undergo a shock than she is now." has written, and which would explain the whole “What would you have me do !" asked poor to you, which I will venture to say you could not | Ida, turning very pale. read without the deepest sympathy. She gave “Go to her," replied Mr. Tyrrell, “ now, this this to me on the night when she was first taken very moment. Tell her as gently and cautiously ill; we have never exchanged a word on the sub-as you will, that I am here, and that I have seen ject since. Her illness was caused by the sight her; tell her that I will not force myself into her of her child ; she recognized him, and the agita- presence either now, or at any future time ; but tion brought on brain fever. I have never dared that I insist upon knowing the history of these to allude to it lest I should excite her. She does years, the causes of her behavior, in fact the not know that you are in the house ; when we WHOLE ; and that she has no right, no power to are together she sits silent and weeps much. I refuse it to me. Tell her that I am ready to conhave no right to judge either her or you. What sider any arrangement which she chooses to can I do, but ask you to have patience till her propose.” health is so far restored that an interview would He stopped suddenly; he was evidently connot be dangerous ; and then leave you to judge trolling himself by great exertion ; and as his tone and act for yourself? I will pray for her,"'- became bitter he ceased to speak, determined to here Ida's tears began to flow fast ; “I do pray say nothing which might distress Ida or expose for her with all my heart, that she may be his own feelings. Apart from the singular and strengthened to do right, and that she may be agitating nature of the position in which he found comforted ; and, so far as I can, I will never himself, it was galling to his pride to the last cease trying to comfort and help and persuade her. degree to have his emotions thus made, so to Can I do anything else ?"

speak, a spectacle for a young girl. He could She spoke rapidly and with great emotion ; he not remember without mortification even the made no attempt to interrupt her, but when she expressions of amazement which she had heard paused he took her hand and said, quickly, “Will him utter. The very extremity of his confusion you show me this journal ?"

and agitation gave him, after the first shock was “Can you ask it?" returned she, fixing her over, strength to conceal all outward demonstrachildlike eyes upon his face. I believe honestly, tion of it. that, were you to read it, all your views would Ida felt that she had no right to oppose him, change, and you could not help being reconciled. nor to set her judgment against his, but her terror But it was given me in confidence, and it is sacred ; , was extreme. “ Must I do this?" asked she, it is not in my power. I have no right to use any her slight form quivering from head to foot. judgment about it.”

“My dear child,” he answered, “how can I There are few who can withstand the simple spare you? you cannot feel the pain which I am eloquence of truth, and Ida's innocent appeal went giving you more acutely than I do. It is wrong straight to the heart of her hearer. He remained -it is unnatural—it ought not to be. But where silent for some minutes, still holding her hand with is there any remedy? Can I go to her myselfa changed and gentle expression of face.

can I send any other messenger? Would you “ Tell me,” said he at last, " when did this wish me-would it in fact be possible for me to fever attack her, and when did it leave her?" open these miserable wounds to any other eyes?

“ She has been two days free from delirium ; Is not one confidante more than enough for such a she was taken ill more than a week ago; she is secret ? Can I be expected to bear it more better every day, thank God."

patiently than I do? Go to her-tell her all this, Well,” said Mr. Tyrrell, “ do not think me very tenderly—and ask her permission to put this harsh, but though it is quite natural that you should journal in my hands, since I conclude she will be timid, and I do not blame you in the least, I scarcely wish to make her confessions in person.” think it is not necessary. Nay, don't look so dis- The contrast between his assumed calmness, tressed; consider a moment. She knows (he his real gentleness towards Ida, and the stern sarcould not bring himself to utter her name) that casm which every now and then broke out, both Arthur is here-she must suspect that I am either in tone and glance, was most striking. come or coming Think what must be working “Oh! forgive me," she replied; “I did not in her mind all the while she is sitting as you mean to be selfish ; in fact, I was not thinking of describe her, without speaking, and with many myself, I was only frightened. But, of course, tears. Believe me, such suspense is worse than you know best, and no one but you has a right to any certainty. All this is not my fault ; she has decide. I will go.” She drew a deep, painful placed herself in this strange, painful, unnatural sigh, compelled to submit, but unable to divest position, and she cannot issue from it in any herself of dread of the results. direction without great suffering. The sooner He pressed her hand kindly as he let it drop, this is over the better. If you wait in hope that and the tenderness of his manner was quite fathshe will recover strength, you only give the poison erly. "I would save you from this if I knew more time to work. A week hence, seven days how,” said he ; “but since it must be, it is bost not to defer it. And then this most painful mat- | ing of the soul. Faith should be able to make ter must be withdrawn entirely from your hands ; every man excel in that particular duty to which leave her as soon as possible, and seek strength he has the strongest aversion; the mean man and refreshment for yourself. You don't know should be boundless in liberality—the tender and how much or how soon you may need it.” patient heart should be fullest of zeal and daring

Something in his tone startled her, and she - the proud, sensitive, self-dependent spirit should answered, struck by a sudden indefinable thought, be tenderest in its love, noblest in its trust, deepest -"Was it because you suspected anything that in its lowliness and abasement, gentlest in its foryou were so anxious for a private interview with bearance. Can we dare say that we deny ourMadeline before ?"

selves unless we do this? Is there anything like “No, no,'

" returned he hastily. “ What crucifixion of the will in such mere development should I suspect? I had heard of her, and was and ennobling of natural tendencies as make up anxious to know her. Go, my dear child, go, I the greater part of our self-discipline? Is it entreat you.”

faith, if we only believe and tremble?" She moved slowly away, and as he gazed after “Godfrey spoke in this way," answered Ida, her he was twice obliged to remove the tears very gently ; " and he seemed to think that which gathered in his eyes. Then he returned to faith never could thus conquer and transfigure self. the contemplation of his own strange, inexplicable But we know that it can do so—that it has done destiny.

s0—that it must do so, sooner or later, through “Is that you, dearest ?" said the voice of many difficulties, perhaps, alas ! after many failMadeline, as Ida entered the sick chamber. “Iures, in the life of every true servant of the cross. am much better to-day, come to me; come close, But papa used to say that it was a dangerous sit down beside me. Will you read to me a habit to talk of faith doing all this for us, as little? Your reading soothes me like music, but though our souls were to lie still and watch the there is something discordant if I try to read to work of their salvation ; I remember he said myself, and my head begins to ache directly. that God gives us the will, the power, and the Take your own favorite book—your mother's weapons, but he fights not for but in us; and book—and read here this chapter.”

while we owe every conquest to him, the fault of She opened St. Thomas Kempis as she every defeat or delay is our own.” spoke, and placed it before Ida, reading with a Madeline's eyes were full of light as they tremulous voice the title of the chapter. The rested upon Ida's calın young face, and the fervor words were very solemn. • Of the Oblation of of their gaze had something painful in it.

“ Yes," Christ upon the Cross, and of Resignation of she murmured, “ we can do all things, all through ourselves.” Ida sat down beside the couch, and him. Now read to me." took the volume, but Madeline laid her hand over And Ida read falteringly, tenderly, as though

in every word she were inflicting a wound upon “One moment !" she said. “Let us collect herself, yet dared not stay her hand; and the last ourselves. Oh, Ida ! those are awful words-words sounded softly and awfully, like the voice the whole Christian creed, and the whole Chris- of a bell tolling over wide waters. tian life in one sentence. A summary of faith My sentence standeth sure ; · Unless a man and duty, each syllable a sentence of condemna- forsake all, he cannot be my disciple. If thou tion! I have been thinking a great deal this therefore desire to be my disciple, offer up thyself morning about what faith ought to work in us; it unto me, with thy whole affections.' is nothing, absolutely nothing, unless it is able so She closed the volume. Madeline's face was to turn the will against the heart, that we become, buried in her outspread hands. Ida kneeled contrary to ourselves, strongest where we were down before her, and laid her clasped hands upon most weak, bravest where we were the very slaves her knee. “ Listen to me, dearest,” said she, of fear. Unless the transformation be complete, after a pause; “I have something to say to what are we the better for it ?"

you." " True," replied Ida timidly, for there was a Oh, that little, quiet, comenon phrase, “I have degree of excitement in her friend's manner which something to say to you!" How often does it somewhat alarmed her. “Is not that the rea- usher in the terrors, the griefs, the agonies of son why we always make self-denial the very life! Love that has grown cold, so announces threshold of the Christian temple ?"

the change which maketh desolate ; kindness that "Aye, self-denial,” rejoined Madeline. “But would fain soften the pain it is forced to inflict, what is self-denial ? what is it that we see and takes refuge in that brief preface to a whole know which takes the name of self-denial. A volume of sorrows; mere politeness borrows it man who is naturally generous, takes the duty of sometimes, a thin disguise for absolute cruelty ; charity, and gives all his substance to the poor; and sometimes too, shy happiness holds it up as a one who was born gentle, endures insult and prov- screen, and shows her bright countenance peeping acation with meekness; one who is naturally from behind it, after one moment's ineffectual reserved and distrustful, sacrifices human affec- hesitation. It is like the seal upon a letter, betions, and turns away from earthly happiness. tokening something within, perchance the sentence This is called self-denial--but it is a mere cheat-1 of a lifetime.

the page :

From the New Monthly Magazine. nine times seven ; both of them unlucky numbers. POSTHUMOUS MEMOIR OF MYSELF.

No one escapes altogether at this confounded BY HORACE SMITH, ESQ., AUTHOR OF BRAMBLETYE

period. George wrote me on my last birthday HOUSE," &c. &c.

that a most dangerous time was coming, and that

I must expect to be confoundedly seedy for some (Accidental circumstances prevented the appearance months ; but that there was no kind of use in

of this Tale during the life-time of its gifted and seeing a doctor, as the indisposition was natural lamented Author, but the proofs were corrected and inevitable.” by him. Taken in connection with the melan

“I thought all belief in the critical year' had choly event which so speedily and unexpectedly been long since abandoned, except by the old followed its composition, the article presents a women who disguise themselves as old men. Your singular coincidence of title, and becomes in- son is young enongh to know better. Be assured, vested with deep and peculiar interest.–Ed. N. my good friend, that your sickness has no reference M. Mag.]

whatever to this peculiar year of your life. Can

not you assign any other cause for this sudden CHAPTER 1.

change in a constitution which has hitherto been “ You here !" I exclaimed, in no very cour- so healthy ?" teous tone, as I turned round, and saw my old “Well, I don't know. I have certainly had a friend Dr. Linnel quietly seating himself by my good deal of worry and anxiety lately.” bedside. “ Who sent for you ?"!

" Yet few men have been so prosperous. The “No one ; I was brought hither by one of the world gives you credit for having made an imbest and prettiest young ladies in all Warwick- mense fortune by your contracts with government." shire-your daughter."

“ The world says true ; but wealth, I find, “ Then Sarah has not only taken a very great cannot always buy health, and still less happiness. liberty, but has disobeyed my positive orders, as I tell you what, doctor—when a fellow has everyshe has done more than once lately. For some thing to sear and nothing to hope, he will sometimes time past has she been pestering me to send for look back with regret to the careless days when you, which I have constantly refused to do. I he had everything to hope and nothing to fear.” have told her, at least a hundred times, that I don't “ Thank Heaven, I am in the former predicalike physic, and hate doctors.”

ment, and trust always to remain so." “I am glad to see that your malady has not “ Nay, doctor, you may get rich when you get injured your talent for paying compliments." old, as I have done."

“ Nay, I meant not to say anything rude or " In other words, I may scrape up money when personal. As a visitant or a friend I am always I am too old to enjoy it, and cannot long retain it. glad to see you. Even when you are sarcastic I hope the blind goddess will spare me all such and say sharp things, as you do sometimes, one cruel kindness." cannot be offended with a man who wears such a “Fate has spared you one calamity-you have bland, imperturbable smile, and speaks in so soft no children. I have only two ; but, oh! my dear a voice ; but as a writer of prescriptions, I confess Linnel! words cannot tell you how mueh disapfrankly-you know I hate flommery—that I had pointment, misery, and vexation, they have latterly rather have your room than your company. When occasioned me. If there is one man I hate more my time 's come, I can die without ihe assistance than another, it is Godfrey Thorpe, of Oakfield of a doctor.”

Hall, and not without many and good reasons, “ Very likely ; but the question is, can you exclusively of his being a pompous, supercilious live without it?''

blockhead, as proud as Lucifer and as poor as Job. “Why not? I am sixty-three, and never con- First, he procured me to be blackballed at the sulted a physician in all my life.”

County Club, insolently declaring that he could “Perhaps you were never ill before ?" not associate with a ci-devant maltster. Secondly,

“ Never! and I'm not exactly ill now, only his interest with the commissary-general, and cercompletely out of sorts, as most men are at this tain charges of malpractices on my part—for I'm precise time of life—weak and languid, and all sure the slanders came from him-prevented my that sort of thing—seedy, as my son George calls getting the great contract for supplying the cavalry it ; and so I promised Sarah that I would lie with provender. Thirdly, he ousted me from the abed to-day, just to see whether it would recruit borough which I had represented for five years, me a bit."

actually beating me with my own money, for I had “ Your daughter gave you very good advice ; just lent him an additional eight thousand pounds and perhaps I may be able to do the same, if you on the Oakfield estate, which is now mortgaged will tell me the exact nature of your ailment, to its full value. However, there is one comfort ; which you can hardly refuse, now that you have if he goes on much longer with his hounds and confessed yourself to be completely out of sorts, horses, and his grand establishment, I hope, one and that I have come so far on purpose to see of these fine days, to foreclose, and oust him from

his boasted old hall, just as he turned me out of “I have already told you my complaint ; I am my borough." sixty-three-my grand climacteric, you know : “Provoking enough, I confess; but what has all


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