exactly one of those men whom every body calls exceedingly clever, and yet it would puzzle one to say in what he was so clever. It was, indeed, that nameless power which belongs to ability, and which makes one man superior, on the whole, to another, though in many details by no means remarkable. I think it is Goëthe who says somewhere, that in reading the life of the greatest genius, we always find that he was acquainted with some men superior to himself, who yet never attained to general distinction. To the class of these mystical superior men, Lumley Ferrers might have belonged; for though an ordinary journalist would have beaten him in the arts of composition, few men of genius, however eminent, could have felt themselves above Ferrers in the ready grasp and plastic vigour of natural intellect. It only remains to be said of this singular young man, whose character as yet was but half developed, that he had seen a great deal of the world, and could live at ease and in content with all tempers and ranks; fox-hunters or scholars, lawyers or poets, patricians or parvenus, it was all one to Lumley Ferrers. : Ernest was, as usual, in his own room, when he heard, along the corridor without, all that indefinable bustling noise, which announces an arrival. Next came a most ringing laugh, and then a sharp, clear, vigorous voice, that ran through his ears like a dagger. Ernest was immediately aroused to all the majesty of indignant sullenness. He walked out on the terrace of the portico, to avoid the repetition of the disturbance and once more settled back into his broken and hypochondriacal reveries, pacing to and fro that part of the peristyle which occupied the more retired wing of the house, with his arms folded, his eyes downcast, and his brows knit, and all the angel darkened on that noble countenance, which formerly looked as if, like truth, it could shame the devil and defy the world, Ernest followed the evil thought that mastered him, through the Valley of the Shadow. Suddenly he was aware of something some obstacle which he had not previously encountered. He started, and saw before him a young man, of plain dress, gentleman-like appearance, and striking countenance. "Mr. Maltravers, I think," said the stranger, and Ernest recognised the voice that had so disturbed him: "this is lucky, we can now introduce ourselves, for I find Cleveland means us to be intimate. Mr. Lumley Ferrers, Mr. Ernest Maltravers. There now, I am the eldest, so I first offer my hand, and grin properly. People always grin when they make a new acquaintance! Well, that's settled. Which way are you walking?" Maltravers could, when he chose it, be as stately as if he had never been out of England. He now drew himself up in dis pleased astonishment; extricated his hand from the gripe of Ferrers, and, saying very coldly, "Excuse me, sir, I am busy," stalked back to his chamber. He threw himself down on his chair, and was presently forgetful of his late annoyance, when, to his inexpressible amazement and wrath, he heard again the sharp, clear voice close at his elbow. Ferrers had followed him through the French casements into the room. "You are busy, you say, my dear fellow. I want to write some letters; we sha'n't interrupt each other don't disturb yourself: " and Ferrers seated himself at the writing-table, dipped a pen into the ink, arranged blotting-book and paper before him in due order, and was soon employed in covering page after page with the most rapid and hieroglyphical scrawl that ever engrossed a mistress, or perplexed a dun. "The presuming puppy!" growled Maltravers, half audibly, but effectually roused from himself; and, examining with some curiosity so cool an intruder, he was forced to own that the countenance of Ferrers was not that of a puppy. A forehead, compact and solid as a block of granite, overhung small, bright, intelligent eyes of a light hazel; the features were handsome, yet rather too sharp and fox-like; the complexion, though not highly coloured, was of that hardy, healthy hue, that generally betokens a robust constitution and high animal spirits; the jaw was massive, and, to a physiognomist, betokened firmness and strength of character; but the lips, full and large, were those of a sensualist, and their restless play and habitual half-smile, spoke of gaiety and humour, though when in repose there was in them something furtive and sinister. Maltravers looked at him in grave silence; but when Ferrers, concluding his fourth letter before another man would have got through his first page, threw down the pen, and looked full at Maltravers, with a good-humoured but penetrating stare, there was something so whimsical in the intruder's expression of face, and indeed in the whole scene, that Maltravers bit his lip to restrain a smile, the first he had known for weeks. "I see you read, Maltravers," said Ferrers, carelessly turning over the volumes on the table; "All very right: we should begin life with books; they multiply the sources of employment; so does capital;-but capital is of no use, unless we live on the interest, books are waste-paper, unless we spend in action the wisdom we get from thought. Action, Maltravers, action, that is the life for us. At our age, we have passion, fancy, sentiment; we can't read them away, nor scribble them away;—we must live upon them generously, but economically." Maltravers was struck; the intruder was not the empty bore he had chosen to fancy him. He roused himself languidly to reply. "Life, Mr. Ferrers-—" Stop, mon cher, stop; don't call me Mister; we are to be friends; I hate delaying that which must be, even by a superfluous dissyllable; you are Maltravers, I am Ferrers. But you were going to talk about life. Suppose we live a little while, instead of talking about it. It wants an hour to dinner : let us stroll into the grounds; I want to get an appetite;-besides, I like nature, when there are no Swiss mountains to climb before one can get at a prospect. Allons!" "Excuse," again began Maltravers, half interested, half annoyed. "I'll be shot if I do. Come. Ferrers gave Maltravers his hat, wound his arm in his, and they were on the broad terrace by the lake before Ernest was aware of it. How animated, how eccentric, how easy, was Ferrers' talk; (for talk it was, rather than conversation, since he had the ball to himself;) books, and men, and things, he tossed them about, and played with them like shuttlecocks and then his egotistical narrative of half a hundred adventures, in which he had been the hero, told so, that you laughed at him, and laughed with him. And woman, bright woman, was the nucleus of all the stories! CHAPTER XVI. "Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, MILTON. HITHERTO Ernest had never met with any mind that had exercised a strong influence over his own. At home, at school, at Gottingen, every-where, he had been the brilliant and wayward leader of others, persuading or commanding wiser and older heads than his own: even Cleveland always yielded to him, though not aware of it. In fact, it seldom happens that we are very strongly influenced by those much older than ourselves. It is the senior, of from two to ten years, that most seduces and enthralls us. He has the same pursuits - views, objects, pleasures, but more art and experience in them all. He goes with us in the path we are ordained to tread, but from which the elder generation desires to warn us off. There is very little influence where there is not great sympathy. It was now an epoch in the intellectual life of Maltravers. He met for the first time with a mind that controlled his own. Perhaps the physical state of his nerves made him less able to cope with the half-bullying, but thoroughly good-humoured imperiousness of Ferrers. Every day this stranger became more and more potential with Maltravers. Ferrers, who was an utter egotist, never asked his new friend to give him his confidence, he never cared three straws about other people's secrets, unless useful to some purpose of his own. But he talked with so much zest about himself—about women and pleasure, and the gay, stirring life of cities, that the young spirit of Maltravers was roused from its dark lethargy without an effort of his own. The gloomy phantoms vanished gradually his sense broke from its cloud- he felt once more that God had given the sun to light the day, and even in the midst of darkness had called up the host of stars. Perhaps no other person could have succeeded so speedily in curing Maltravers of his diseased enthusiasm: a crude or sarcastic unbeliever he would not have listened to; a moderate and enlightened divine he would have disregarded, as a worldly and cunning adjuster of laws celestial with customs earthly. But Lumley Ferrers, who, when he argued, never admitted a sentiment or a simile in reply, who wielded his plain iron logic like a hammer, which, though its metal seemed dull, kindled the ethereal spark with every stroke-Lumley Ferrers was just the man to resist the imagination, and convince the reason of Maltravers; and the moment the matter came to argument the cure was soon completed; for however we may darken and puzzle ourselves with fancies and visions, and the ingenuities of fanatical mysticism, no man can mathematically or syllogistically contend, that the world, which a God made, and a Saviour visited, was designed to be damned! And Ernest Maltravers one night softly stole to his room, and opened the New Testament, and read its heavenly moralities with purged eyes; and when he had done, he fell upon his knees; and prayed the Almighty to pardon the ungrateful heart that, worse than the Atheist's, had confessed His existence, but denied His goodness. And the sleep of Ernest Maltravers that night was deep and sweet, and his dreams were cheerful and he woke the next morning reconciled with God and man. : CHAPTER XVII. "There are times when we are diverted out of errors, but could not be preached out of them.-There are practitioners who can cure us of one disorder, though, in ordinary cases, they be but poor physicians, nay, dangerous quacks." STEPHEN MONTAGUE. LUMLEY Ferrers, the accidental agent of this regeneration, was anything but a saint; for it is not the best tools that shape out the best ends; if so, Martin Luther would not have been selected as the master-spirit of the Reformation. Ferrers laid it down as a rule, to make all things, and all persons, subservient to himself. And Ferrers now intended to go abroad for some years. He wanted a companion, for he disliked solitude : besides, a companion shared the expenses; and a man of eight hundred a-year, who desires all the luxuries of life, does not despise a partner in the taxes to be paid for them. Ferrers, at this period, rather liked Ernest than not: it was convenient to choose friends from those richer than himself, and he resolved, when he first came to Temple Grove, that Ernest should be his travelling companion. This resolution formed, it was very easy to execute it. Maltravers was now warmly attached to his new friend, and eager for change. Cleveland was sorry to part with him; but he dreaded a relapse, if the young man were again left upon his hands. Accordingly the guardian's consent was obtained; a travelling-carriage was bought, and fitted up with every imaginable imperial and malle. A Swiss (half valet and half courier) was engaged; one thousand a-year was allowed to Maltravers; --and one soft and lovely morning, towards the close of October, Ferrers and Maltravers found themselves midway on the road to Dover. "How glad I am to get out of England," said Ferrers: "it is a famous country for the rich; but here eight hundred a-year, without a profession, save that of pleasure, goes upon pepper and salt it is a luxurious competence abroad." "I think I have heard Cleveland say that you will be rich some day or other." "O yes; I have what are called expectations! You must know that I have a kind of settlement on two stools, the Well-born and the Wealthy; but between two stools-you recollect the proverb! The present Lord Saxingham, once plain Frank Lascelles, and my father, Mr. Ferrers, were first cousins. Two or three relations good-naturedly died, and Frank Lascelles |