tainly not disturb one single engagement to any party of pleasure, and their disappearance will not create one hiatus in the gay throng. A pebble thrown in the water which makes a circle around the spot for a moment where it falls, and then sinks, forgotten, is not an unapt emblem of similar events.

If with this life, were the end of every thing, if death summed up existence with "Finis," it would indeed be, comparatively speaking, of small moment, what happened here. For whether the individual delinquent be the ruler of a state, or the ruler of fashion, do they elicit any farther notice, once they are out of sight, than a few exclamations or interjections, expressive of horror, or compassion, or regret, as the occasion may require? Ah! "how little flattering is the people's praise." Look at the warrior who saves his country, or the statesman who guides it in the storm, or the man who has discovered some secret of mighty moment in science, or the singer or actor, who has touched the hearts of thousands, and made them laugh or cry (a greater exercise of power, perhaps, than any,) does their absence, or their disgrace even, make any long or useful impression? No! oblivion is the only word that stands uneffaced on mortal tablets; and yet in all this, there is not much cause for murmuring. It has been mercifully ordained that man's power is only "dressed in a little brief authority:" let any one put their ideal consequence to the test, and pass a few months, at most a very few years away from the adulating crowd, they will return to find another favourite on the throne of public favour; the same knees bowing to a newer idol, the same hearts stirred by other music. It is nothing new that is here set down, but it would be well if these truths were oftener entertained, much of self-consequence, in one sense of the word, would be humbled, but the sense of consequence pertaining to immortal beings would take a high ascendant. Some who remembered the enthusiastic manner in which Frederick Clermont had always supported and defended the Herberts, when any spoke slightingly of them, were loud in their blame at his having challenged Lord Herbert-the man, they said, to whom he owed his rise of fortune; better that he had gone out of the way, and hushed up the affair, than rendered the folly of his benefactor apparent, and in fine, have occasioned his death. They held one code of honour for the great, another for the less high in station; they

judged him not by any Christian standard of conduct, or even by any less high rule of right, but only by that of expediency; some few however declared, that unluckily as the business had terminated, Frederick Clermont had only acted honourably. But the generality of persons, who had passed through similar scenes in company with the deceased, were shocked when they heard that one of themselves were gone; they were not shocked at his having left his home, and his wife, and his child, to gratify his evil passions, but when they heard that vengeance had been taken of his crimes; that, great and powerful as he was, he had been amenable to punishment, that he had been drawn down from his high estate, and branded with a mark of infamy, and finally, that he had paid the forfeit of his delinquencies by death; then they were shocked: the case came home to their own business and bosoms, and the challenge given by Frederick Clermont was warmly discussed. Some blamed, some approved; but how differently do persons judge of honour, and dishonour: it is honourable for one man to ruin another less skilled on the turf, or in any other gambling transaction--it is honourable for the loser to blow his brains out-it is honourable for one man to make love to another man's wife, as long as he does so under certain conventional restrictions, and that the veil is drawn over the amour by remaining the husband's friend;-but it is dishonourable to warn a man of his wife's treachery-it is dishonourable not to pay gaming debts, while others may be left unpaid;—it is honourable to bribe a man to blindness on certain domestic or even political concerns-but it is dishonourable, when the matter is discovered, not to give him satisfaction, or in other words, not offer to shoot him through the head. In short, a long essay upon honour and dishonour, might be written, as these two opposite principles are acknowledged and acted upon in the world of fashion, but of what avail would it be? Did any moral essay, any mere book-truth do any good, or eradicate the vices it condemned? No, certainly not; if the great drama of existence passes before the heart and understanding without effecting a change, how presumptuous and idle it is to suppose, that the lucubrations of any single observer of human affairs will have one moment's weight! "Non ragionam di lór, ma guarda é passa.

CHAPTER VIII.

Years now had flown, nor was the passion cured;
But hope had life, and so was life endured.
The mind's disease, with all its strength, stole on,
Till youth, and health, and all but love, were gone.

CRABBE.

How many deaths do the really loving die, before the last scene closes upon their affections! How often has the curtain dropped upon Lady Herbert's existence of love, as she herself thought for ever; and yet, some new hope lifted it again, and again she entered upon the same track of thorns, with renewed courage to endure afresh the pangs of disappointment! But now, the first existence is really over, she commences, as it were, another life; yet, ere this novel epoch be entered upon, it may not be deemed irrelevant to the continuation of her history to give a slight recapitulation of her married state.

In order to convey a more intimate knowledge of Lady Herbert's trials, and of the nature of that love which could not be extinguished by any power, save by the object who created it, it is necessary to revert to a few of the many painful detached scenes in her life, which might appear almost exaggerated, did it not occur to every observant mind who has lived some time in the world, that realities are often more astounding than any fictitious details that ever were delineated.

It chanced one evening in the earlier part of Lady Herbert's married life, that she was showing a bracelet her husband had given to her, to some young lady who happened to pay her a visit, and she placed it on her arm, the better to display its beauty. Lord Herbert came into the room heated with wine, as he generally was after dinner, and observed the circumstance, and appeared to take no notice of it; but when his guests had retired, he called to Lady Herbert in an under tone of stifled displeasure, and asked her what she meant by giving away his bridal presents.

.

"I give away any thing you ever gave me, Francis! What do you mean?”

"I mean what I say, madam;" and with an oath he added, "but it is the last time you shall ever have any presents from me."

"Nay, now, dearest, you are surely only joking; look, here is the dear bracelet safe on my arm."

66

'May be so, but you had intended to give it away if I had not come into the room; you know you did; now don't deny it, for, if you do, it shall be the last word you ever speak."

Poor Lady Herbert looked in her husband's face; she saw the marks of inebriation in his red eyes and heated complexion, she knew, that to reason with him was vain, she endeavoured to sooth him; to caress him, to win him into gentleness by gentleness.

"Dearest Francis, you know I value every thing you ever touched, much more any thing you ever designed to be a remembrance of our love, with too deep a sentiment of affection to bear to part with it; lay aside that frown, I beseech you; tell me what I can do to please you, shall I sing you a favourite ballad?" and though her heart was bursting she placed herself at her harp, and touching a few chords, sang in the trembling touching tone of her mellow voice,

With lowly suit and plaintive ditty
I call the tender mind to pity."

But scarcely had she finished the stanza, when he rushed towards her, more like a madman than any thing in civilized life, and seizing her rudely by the arm, dashed her to the ground. Her fine hair fell in dishevelled masses over her shoulders, her arm was bruised, and the comb which had gathered up her tresses was broken in her fall, while one of the teeth had run into her head, and made a wound which bled profusely; half stunned with the fall, and shocked for him, even more than distressed for herself she remained some moments where she lay without moving. Come, madam," he said with brutal violence, and raising her rudely by one arm, "none of your tragedy airs, madam. Excellent actress! but acting won't do with me, I am a straighforward man, and it is rather hard I should be married to a mad poetess. Get up, I say," seeing she moved not; "Get up, and since you sang for your own

amusement, now be so good as to sing for mine; birds that can sing and will not sing, must be made to sing, and so sing and be to you."

And Lady Herbert actually did sing. Yes, wounded in soul and body as she was, she sang, and never sang more touchingly. Incredible as it may appear, like the brutes of old, the power of song had power over her husband; and, suddenly melting into womanish fondness, he knelt down by the side of his unhappy wife, swore she was an angel, and that he never could do too much for her; brought her water and refreshment; accused himself of being what he was, a monster; and, strange to say, effaced from Lady Herbert's mind every trace of his wanton brutality, which she only ascribed to the effects of wine, and not to his natural character, and firmly believed such a circumstance could never again occur.

On another occasion at a great race-ball, Lady Herbert had escaped on a fine summer evening from the noise and vulgarity of a public dinner, and strolled out with a friend through the town to reach some fields, where she wished to pass the intervening hours, till it should be time to dress for the ball. In going there, however, a parcel of the low rabble, who always congregate on such occasions, attracted by her beauty, followed to gaze at her as she passed along; and one curious idler attracted another, till she soon found herself surrounded by an immense crowd. Terrified, as she and her companion were they did not know what to do; the dense mass of persons prevented her either from going forwards or backwards, and they both rushed into a shop. It was something to be protected from farther insult for the moment, but Lady Herbert dreaded her husband's anger; she immediately thought, he will suppose I must have done something extraordinary. He is, probably, drinking hard, and once infuriated by wine will certainly kill me. Every moment her terror increased, for she heard the mob vociferating from without, "Turn out the thieves! Give them up to justice!" It seems some robbery had recently taken place; and a report had gained current among crowd that she and her companion were the guilty persons: so that the violence of the mob was at its utmost height, and they threatened to pull down the house. At length the civil authorities were called out, and the chief magistrate being admitted to the shop, was soon made acquainted with the truth. Alarmed, however, at the concourse of

the