"But, supposing the masque supports his character ably, does he not acquire for it the price of reality?" asked Grey.

"Admitting that he might do so," replied Lord John," he can never acquire the dignity of reality, and must, consequently, be wanting in influence. We acknowledge that he is, in many respects, like what he pretends to be, but we know he is nothing more. Nay, we constantly feel that, were we, ourselves, supporting the same character, we should, by no means, enact it in all respects as he does. A truce, however, to our long discussion, I am about to hazard a personality. Come, let us fill to the success and happiness of our friend, the rector!"

The evening advanced—the claret, inspirer of gentle thought, beheld harmony and tranquillity reign; but, how often is tranquil serenity the precursor to the crash of the hurri

cane!

Albert Grey rose to quit the hospitalities of the castle. He pleaded his habit of early hours, and the ride to the Retreat, as his excuse for departing sooner than the society

of his hosts, and the agreeable tone of the party, might otherwise have justified.

Henry Molyneux entreated his relative to remain a short time, in order that he might have the pleasure and advantage of companionship for a part of the night ride. This was precisely what Albert Grey was most anxious to avoid. Conscious of having borne the society of Henry Molyneux with a philosophy which he had at first little deemed of possible acquisition, and which he could not have maintained but for the presence of others, he was pleased at the chance of escape. Evading, therefore, all pressing invitations to linger, Mr. Grey took leave, and, in a few minutes, found himself winding along the drive through Byborough Park.

CHAPTER XI.

"Patience! patience! If there be such a virtue,
I want it, Heaven! yet, keep it a little longer;
It were a sin to have it."

SHIRLEY.

THE autumn had passed away; the night would have worn an impenetrable mantle, but for the stars, which streamed down their puny flames with unwonted brilliancy, under favour of a clear and frosty air. The moon had not yet risen; and the eye could not easily trace the carriage-road, as it ran, in varying curves, through the grouped plantations and wide sward of Byborough Park.

Leisurely walking his horse through the dimness, Mr. Grey yielded to the tranquillising influences of solitude and night. As his mind rejoiced in its emancipation from the topics of the table, it quickly turned itself into its

favourite channel, and no longer felt lonely, for his heart gave its best sympathy...

66

Why does night most forcibly, yet most poetically, conjure up before the spirit the images which we deem brightest?" thought Albert Grey, as the image of Alice Windermere arose before him. He recalled all their intercourse her words, her looks. He smiled at the recollection of their meeting in the morning at the Retreat, and at the energetic defence of Lord Byborough by Lady Windermere, which had, unintentionally, favoured a longer intercourse with her daughter than her ladyship would have willingly allowed. He thought, too, of the flower which Alice had accepted, in presence of Lady Windermere, and without her displeasure; for, her ladyship had not seemed displeased, and Mr. Grey did not care to suspect, that, under the placid, unmoving features, there could be a flowing current of ruffled dignity.

From the past, his reverie wafted him onwards to the sight of happiness, as yet heaped up in the treasures of futurity, to be delivered to him as time and fate should be pleased to

grant their permits and licenses. What had, a few months before, been a desert waste, without even the light of probability to cheer it, now wore the full splendour of hope. Upon it he built as all build in the inexperience of youth, and the ardour of better feelings-a pleasant structure; one of those airy castles that defy every rule of architecture, as they spring upwards, at bidding, in all the liberal magnificence of an unstinted imagination.

The revulsions of feeling which he had sustained during the day, and the tumult of many excitements, gave way to one single and sole thought of repose and comfort. The painful remembrance of Henry Molyneux and of Constance, for the time passed from a mind more judiciously employed in meditating on its own happiness.

The moon at length arose, as Albert Grey, who had threaded the park, and measured some distance of the high road, entered upon the moor, and, with the legitimate influence of pale moons in general, it excited a fresh gusto of enthusiasm to the image of Alice Windermere. He raised his eyes to gaze upon the