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made in favour of the two books of Di- dini here stands in contrast with his later alogues Del Reggimento di Firenze," self, as arrayed in the ample academical which will be found in the second volume, robes of the classic historian. In the poand which testify to the author's sincere litical doctrine deducible from his Florenpublic spirit, however dashed with self-tine history he so far contrasts with Maseeking. The interlocutors of these imag-chiavelli that, while Guicciardini, as Signor inary conversations are four of the most Canestrini remarks, confined his desires to eminent public men of the last period of a better-regulated government for FlorFlorentine freedom - Bernardo del Nero, ence, and freedom for Italy, Machiavelli Piero Capponi, Pagolantonio Soderini, and invoked the intervention of a Prince, an Piero Guicciardini, the father of our his- all-powerful Dictator, who, by whatever torian. Each of them supports his gen-means— so they were efficacious- - should uine character as speaker or listener, and succeed in the great enterprise of expelthe air of freedom still breathes through ling the strangers who were tearing Italy their unrestrained utterances. Bernardo in pieces. Guicciardini's historical style, del Nero in these Dialogues signalizes that in his "first manner," differs from Masource of weakness and danger to Florence, chiavelli's in that indiscribable quality in which Machiavelli devoted his best efforts which the prose of minds all-prosaic differs to remedy. Our city," says Bernardo, from the prose of poets. Guicciardini was as every one knows, was once armed an acknowledged master of prose - Maonce carried on all her military enterprises chiavelli may rank with poets - and it by aid of the arms of her own subjects would be difficult to find in the highestby aid of these won many victories wrought tragic descriptions of the histoand had many successes, which should rian such vivid images of the misery of have seemed to invite her rather to devote the times which saw the sack of Rome, as herself entirely to military exercises, than in the following six lines of Machiavelli's to disarm, as she has done, and make use Capitolo dell' Ambizione." in her wars of hired soldiers. The cause for this change must either have been the jealous exclusion from command by the people of the nobles who had military rank and reputation [this was the main cause alleged by Machiavelli to have enfeebled Florence] or from the people addicting themselves too exclusively to arts We have given credit for painstaking as and merchandize. However this may have well as for patriotism to the experienced* been, the mode of making war by mer-editor of these volumes. But there is one cenaries has been most pernicious, and during the long period it has already prevailed in Florence has led her citizens into ways of life, and made them contract habits so contrary to martial enterprise, that now, if any youth talks of going to the wars, he becomes in a manner infamous."

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Sempre son le lor facce orrende e scure,
A guisa d'uom, che sbigottito ammiri
Per nuovi danni, o subite paure.
Dovunchel e occhi tu rivolgi e giri,
Di lacrime la terra e sangue è pregna;
E l'aria d'urli, singulti e sospiri."

particular in which he fails to satisfy the fair and reasonable requirements of modern readers. He has neither favoured them with full tables of contents to each volume, nor with a general index to all the ten volumes. These are omissions too familiar in Italian as in German publications of bulk and weight. Signor CanesAnother exception to the charge of tedi- trini sends his readers voyaging through ousness which, not having the fear of Ital- whole volumes without rudder or compass ian readers before our eyes, we have ven- to find the passages he has thought worth tured to bring against good part of the noting in his Preface. We have been "stuffing" of the ten volumes before us, tempted in executing our critical function must be made in favour of the "Storia on this occasion, to wish that editorial deFiorentina," which fills the third volume, linquencies of this description could be and which may be considered as forming a visited with some of those severities of sequel (though written earlier) to Ma- mediæval political justice so frequent in chiavelli's "Storie Fiorentine," and an in- Florentine history. Qualche tratto di fune troduction to Guicciardini's great work, would be no more than condign punishthe famous (and tedious)" Istoria d'Italia." ment for the neglect of editors to provide Of the style of this hitherto unpublished readers with those mere mechanical faciliprelude to his larger history it may be ties for finding what they want in voluminenough to say that, like that of his "Ri- ous works like these, which no French and cordi," it has none of the conventional dig- no judicious English editor ever fails to nity of history. In this respect Guicciar-furnish.

CHAPTER XLIX.

A DISCLOSURE.

also rare; hence few regard their ancestry, or transmit any knowledge they may have of those who have gone before them to those that come after them."

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tone.

"Then you know why he never told me anything!" I exǝlaimed.

"I do- from the best authoity."
"His own, you mean, I suppose."
"I do."

ever
said.

But but I didn't know you were at all-intimate with my uncle," I

He laughed knowingly.

MR. CONINGHAM was at my door by ten o'clock, and we set out together for Um- "My uncle, however, I suppose, told me berden Church. It was a cold clear morn- nothing because, unlike the many, he prized ing. The dying autumn was turning a neither wealth nor rank nor what are combright thin defiant face upon the conquer-monly considered great deeds." ing winter. I was in great spirits, my You are not far from the truth there," mind being full of Mary Osborne. At said Mr. Coningham in a significant one moment I saw but her own ordinary face, only, what I had used to regard as dulness I now interpreted as the possession of her soul in patience; at another I saw the glorified countenance of my Athanasia, knowing that beneath the veil of the other, this, the real, the true face ever lay. Once in my sight, the frost-clung flower had blossomed; in full ideal of glory it had shone for a moment, and then folding itself again away, had retired into the re- "You would say, if you didn't mind gions of faith. And while I knew that speaking the truth, that you thought your such could dawn out of such, how could I uncle disliked me — disapproved of me. help hoping that from the face of the uni- Come now did he not try to make you verse, however to my eyes it might some- avoid me? You needn't mind acknowltimes seem to stare like the seven-days-edging the fact for when I have explained dead, one morn might dawn the unspeaka- the reason of it, you will see that it inble face which even Moses might not be- volves no discredit to either of us.” hold lest he should die of the great sight? "I have no fear for my uncle." The keen air, the bright sunshine, the swift "You are honest, if not over polite," he motion-all combined to raise my spirits rejoined. "You do not feel so sure to an unwonted pitch; but it was a silent about my share. Well, I don't mind who ecstasy, and I almost forgot the presence knows it, for my part. I roused the repugof Mr. Coningham. When he spoke at nance, to the knowledge of which your last I started. silence confesses, merely by acting as any professional man ought to have acted and with the best intentions. At the same time, all the blame I should ever think of casting upon him is, that he allowed his high-strung, saintly, I had almost said superhuman ideas to stand in the way of of his nephew's prosperity."

"I thought from your letter you had something to tell me, Mr. Cumbermede," he said, coming alongside of me.

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Yes, to be sure. I have been reading my grannie's papers as I told you."

I recounted the substance of what I had found in them.

"Does it not strike you as rather strange that all this should have been kept a secret from you?" he asked.

Very few know anything about their grandfathers," I said; so I suppose very few fathers care to tell their children about them."

"That is because there are so few concerning whom there is any thing worth telling."

"For my part," I returned, “I should think any fact concerning one of those who link me with the infinite past out of which I have come, invaluable. Even a fact which is not to the credit of an ancestor may be a precious discovery to the man who has in himself to fight the evil derived from it."

"That however is a point of view rarely taken. What the ordinary man values is

"Perhaps he was afraid of that prosperity standing in the way of a better."

"Precisely so. You understand him perfectly. He was one of the best and simplest-minded men in the world."

"I am glad you do him that justice."

"At the same time I do not think he intended you to remain in absolute ignorance of what I am going to tell you. But you see, he died very suddenly. Besides, he could hardly expect I should hold my tongue after he was gone."

"Perhaps, however, he might expect me not to cultivate your acquaintance," I said, laughing to take the sting out of the words.

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You cannot accuse yourself of having taken any trouble in that direction," he returned, laughing also.

"I believe, however," I resumed, "from

what I can recall of things he said, es- not pretend to have succeeded for long pecially on one occasion on which he ac- after, yet by the time Mr. Coningham had knowleged the existence of a secret in popped over the stile, I was waiting for which I was interested, he did not intend that I should always remain in ignorance of everything he thought proper to conceal from me then."

him, to all appearance, I believe, perfectly calm. He on the other hand, from whatever cause, was actually trembling. His face was pale, and his eye flashing. Was it that he had roused me more effectually than he had hoped?

"Take care, take care, my boy," he said,

Permit me the honour of shaking hands with Sir Wilfrid Cumbermede Daryll."

"I presume you are right. I think his conduct in this respect arose chiefly from anxiety that the formation of your character should not be influenced by the knowl-" or you won't live to enjoy your own. edge of certan facts which might unsettle you, and prevent you from reaping the due advantages of study and self-dependence After this ceremonial of prophetic invesin youth. I cannot however believe that titure, we jogged away quietly, and he by being open with you I shall now be in told me a long story about the death of any danger of thwarting his plans, for you the last proprietor, the degree in which have already proved yourself a wise, mod- Sir Giles was related to him, and his unerate, conscientious man diligent and disputed accession to the property. At painstaking. Forgive we for appearing that time, he said, my father was in very to praise you. I had no such intention. I bad health, and indeed died within six was only uttering as a fact to be consid- months of it. ered in the question, what upon my honour I thoroughly believe."

"I should be happy in your good opinion if I were able to appropriate it," I said. "But a man knows his own faults better than his neighbour knows his virtues."

Spoken like the man I took you for, Mr. Cumberinede," he rejoined gravely.

"But to return to the matter in hand," I resumed: "what can there be so dangerous in the few facts I have just come to the knowledge of, that my uncle should have cared to conceal them from me? That a man born in humble circumstances should come to know that he had distinguished ancestors, could hardly so fill him with false notions as to endanger his relation to the laws of his existence."

"Of course - but you are too hasty. Those facts are of more importance than aware involve other facts. you are Moldwarp Hall is your property and not Sir Giles Brotherton's."

--

"Then the apple was my own after all!" I said to myself exultingly. It was a strange fantastic birth of conscience and memory, forgotten the same moment, and followed by an electric flash not of hope, not of delight, not of pride, but of pure revenge. My whole frame quivered with the shock; yet for a moment I seemed to have the strength of a Hercules. In front of me was a stile through a high hedge: I turned Lilith's head to the hedge, struck my spurs into her, and over or through it. I know not which, she bounded. Already, with all the strength of will I could summon, I struggled to rid myself of the wicked feeling; and although I canVOL. XXIII. 1080

LIVING AGE.

"I knew your father well, Mr. Cumbermede," he went on, one of the best of men, with more spirit - more ambition than your uncle. It was his wish that his child, if a boy, should be called Wilfrid, — for though they had been married five or six years, their only child was born after his death. Your uncle did not like the name, your mother told me, but made no objection to it. So you were named after your grandfather, and great grandfather, and I don't know how many of the race besides. When the last of the Darylls died

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'He never even told me he was the eldest," I said. "I always thought from his coming home to manage the farm when my father was ill that he was the second of the two sons." "On the contrary, he was several years older than your father so that you mustn't suppose he kept you back from any of your rights. They were his, not yours, while he lived."

"I will not ask," I said, " why he did not enforce them. That is plain enough from what I know of his character. The more I think of that, the loftier and simpler it seems to grow. He could not bring himself to spend the energies of a soul meant for higher things on the assertion and recovery of earthly rights."

I rather differ from you there; and I

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If every body was like my uncle, he would have been forced to accept the position," I said; "for there would have been no one to take it from him."

do not know," returned my companion, I was settled, which might not be in his lifewhose tone was far more serious than I time. I may just mention, however, that had ever heard it before," whether the ex- besides his religious absorption, I strongly planation I am going to offer, will raise suspect there was another cause of his inyour uncle as much in your estimation as difference to worldly affairs: I have it does in mine. I confess I do not grounds for thinking that he was disaprank such self-denial as you attribute pointed in a more than ordinary attachto him so highly as you do. On the ment to a lady he met at Oxford — in contrary I count it a fault. How could station considerably above any prospects the world go on if every body was like he had then. To return: he was resolved your uncle?" that whatever might be your fate, you should not have to meet it without such preparation as he conld afford you. As you have divined, he was most anxious that your character should have acquired some degree of firmness before you knew any thing of the possibility of your inheriting a large property and historical name; I had not thought of Sir Giles in con- and I may appropriate the credit of a negnection with the matter-only of Geof-ative share in the carrying out of his plans, frey; and my heart recoiled from the no- for you will bear me witness how often I tion of dispossessing the old man, who, might have upset them by informing you however misled with regard to me at last, of the facts of the case." had up till then shown me uniform kindness. In that moment I had almost resolved on taking no steps till after his death. But Mr. Coningham soon made me forget Sir Giles in a fresh revelation of my uncle.

"Perhaps. But you must not think Sir Giles knew anything of your uncle's claim. He knows nothing of it now."

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Although," he resumed, "all you say of your uncle's indifference to this world and its affairs is indubitably correct, I do not believe, had there been a prospect of your making your appearance, that he would have shirked the duty of occupying the property which was his both by law and by nature. But he knew it might be an expensive suit for no one can tell by what tricks of the law such may be prolonged in which case all the money he could command would soon be spent, and nothing left either to provide for your socalled aunt, for whom he had a great regard, or to give you that education, which, whether you were to succeed to the property or not, he counted indispensable. He cared far more, he said, about your having such a property in yourself as was at once personal and real, than for your having any amount of property out of yourself. Expostulation was of no use. I had previously learned - from the old lady herself-the true state of the case, and, upon the death of Sir Geoffrey Daryll, had at once communicated with him-which placed me in a position for urging him, as I did again and again, considerably to his irritation, to assert and prosecute his claim to the title and estates. I offered to take the whole risk upon myself; but he said that would be tantamount to giving up his personal liberty until the matter

"I am heartily obliged to you,” I said, "for not interfering with my uncle's wishes, for I am very glad indeed that I have been kept in ignorance of my rights until now. The knowledge would at one time have gone far to render me useless for personal effort in any direction worthy of it. It would have made me conceited, ambitious, boastful: I don't know how many bad adjectives would have been necessary to describe me."

"It is all very well to be modest, but I venture to think differently."

I should like to ask you one question, Mr. Coningham," I said.

"As many as you please."

"How is it that you have so long delayed giving me the information which on my uncle's death you no doubt felt at liberty to communicate?"

"I did not know how far you might partake of your uncle's disposition, and judged that the wider your knowledge of the world, and the juster your estimate of the value of money and position, the more willing you would be to listen to the proposals I had to make."

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"Do you remember," I asked, after a canter, led off by my companion, one very stormy night on which you suddenly appeared at the Moat, and had a long talk with my uncle on the subject? "Perfectly," he answered. "But how did you come to know? He did not tell you of my visit!"

"Certainly not. But, listening in my nightgown on the stair, which is open to the kitchen, I heard enough of your talk to learn the object of your visit — namely,

This quite corresponded with my own childish recollections of the interview between them. Indeed there was such an air of simple straightforwardness about his whole communication, while at the same time it accounted so thoroughly for the warning my uncle had given me against him, that I felt I might trust him entirely, and so would have told him all that had taken place at the Hall, but for the share his daughter had borne in it, and the dan-ever, and said: ger of discovery to Mary.