confusion. He continued his course towards the house, and his thoughts changed their character and turned to the strange owner of the noble residence before him. He surveyed the extensive domain, he looked upon the dilapidated mansion buried in its ivy. There was mournfulness and misanthropy stamped on all things. There was competence more than the amplest, but no spirit of contentment pervaded the whole. Not the charm which "Can make a garden of a desert waste." But there was the spirit of desolation amidst plenty and magnificence; and not only the minds of the inmates but the face of all without was impressed with gloom and wore the appearance of being forsaken. He passed on and was soon in the presence of the recluse. Mr. Mordaunt was an old man; his hair was nearly white with years and perhaps care had contributed to change the once raven locks to a silvery hue. He was seated in a spacious apartment, the walls of which were panelled in oak, and covered with an old portrait; the high windows were rich with stained glass, and the fire-place alone would have borne testimony to the age of the structure. The very chair in which the old man was seated would alone have attracted attention from its curiously carved back, relieving the embroidery of its velvet cushion, and harmonising well with the elaborated wrought table at its side, with its quaint armorial devices on its surface and its grim lion-supporters. On the announcement of Ravensworth a gleam of pleasure flitted over the rigid features of Mr. Mordaunt, and he bent his head in token of recognition. Ravensworth went to him and respectfully took his hand with enquiries after his health. A slight contortion was visible in the face and body of the old man, and he answered in a voice that sounded sepulchral in that lofty room-" My days in this world are drawing to a close; but why should I wish to survive the glory of my ancient house. I have no one to regret my departure, and no one to live for. I shall go down to my grave as the shadow that passeth at evening, and where is he that will save my name from oblivion, that is worthy to dwell in the halls of my ancestors? Where is the heart that is free from deceit ? Such a man only, shall gather the riches that I have heaped up not for my own. I have watched, unobserved, your character and your motive for visiting me in this my chosen seclusion. I have found my summons treated with attention, myself, with respect. You are young and may have hopes-may they not prove fallacious. I have yet a proud satisfaction left me. There is much in my power and I will not tarry in accomplishing it, lest the hand of death should defeat my purpose. None other of my name shall move in the dwelling of my fathers. The deeds of early years rush upon my memory, and the remembrance of my wrongs. I loved once, Ravensworth, aye —but you start-I was not always of this chilling aspect-this morbid disposition. I was then capable of deep feeling which was fully proved by the agony I suffered. I found a rival in my near relative, my friend and confidant: my heart sickened at his deception, but I uprooted love and passed judgment upon all men. You know I travelled many years abroad, where my eye was ever watching my fellow creatures. I have seen deceit practised in common-faith broken-honor sacrificed—and truth and integrity utterly set aside. I came here when I felt the effects of the "mind diseased," to breathe out my existence where the spirits of my noble ancestors have passed away. And now I must wind up my long speech by communicating my firm resolve to make you the sole inheritor of this domain : my amassed wealth and of everything that belongs to me. Give me a monument worthy of my race; but let it proclaim to the world that I lived and died too proud to be its slave: aye, write on it that I found earth full of deceit, and friendship but a name." The old man ceased; his cheeks were flushed and his voice betrayed unusual excitement. Ravensworth gazed on him astonished; he waited until composure appeared to be returning on the mind and feelings of Mr. Mordaunt, and thus addressed him, "My dear Sir, it is with the deepest gratitude and respect that I venture any reply, after having been so unexpectedly and undeservedly named by you as your successor to the extensive lands of Mordaunt, and the future proprietor of Oakwood. I feel completely unworthy of the kind estimation in which you have held my services, where the performance was at all times both considered by me as a privilege and a pleasure. It is only an idea of what is right that prompts my presumption in offering you my opinion and advice. Do you not think, Mr. Mordaunt, that there are others whose names alone would give them a prior claim to your generosity than myself, unconnected as I am to you by the ties of blood? May I venture to suggest that they shall be the proper inheritors of your estates. I should be entirely satisfied with that arrangement, and feel my self honored and rewarded in being admitted into your confidence and regard; so will your latest moments be soothed, and the sorrows of your life end in a deed of mercy and forbearance, by a God-like action in bestowing blessings and riches upon those from whose hands you have received evil." "I will not hear it," said Mr. Mordaunt, "Why am I not to bequeath my wealth to the only man in whom I have found sincerity, in whom I have found no feeling of self? It shall be so, or I will divide it and endow charitable institutions. It shall go where I list, for when I am gone, the foot of a Mordaunt shall tread these halls no more." "Let it be so then, my dear Sir, but I am overpowered by a multitude of feelings at such unmerited beneficence on your part to me your wishes shall not be opposed by me now" answered Ravensworth. The conversation then changed, and subsequently the young clergyman departed. During his moon-lit walk home his mind was unusually busy, and thoughts of a varied nature were continually succeeding each other. What had that night brought him? A princely fortune. An estate almost in his grasp equal to that of the Montgomery's. Was he not henceforth a suitable lover for Clementine? Could not he lavish on her as his wife, all that was costly and draw every luxury round her? He knew this; and we will not express now his additional feelings upon the events of that evening. (To be continued.) MUSIC AT EVENING'S STILLY-HOUR. THE music falls upon the zephyr's breath, His bosom swells with the enchanting spell; A trifling thing this great effect hath wrought, How many scenes we go through o'er again, FRANCES H. LA FARGUE. I have look'd upon the road and field For the charm that's said to be a shield And now I think in fairy land The four-leaved shamrock grows, To Him who made it-if 'tis found A leaf that springs up from the ground, May He who makes the flow'rs his care, The lilies of the field,' Be present with thee every where A truer-safer-shield. MADE to engage all hearts, and charm all eyes; |