He had never wavered, had never frittered away the nation's time by a speech; but he had done more: he had voted, and, what is more to the purpose, had voted rightly, with the powers that were. His patriotism, unbending principle, and punctuality of attendance on critical divisions, deserved honourable reward; and, at the splendid dinner at Byborough Castle, in celebration of the marriage of the marquess's son, none of the titled and lordly guests felt more truly gratified, nor unbended with greater condescension, than Sir Thomas Smith Auget, blushing as he was under all the honours of recent knighthood; excepting one other titled individual, also present, namely, Lady Auget.

Of the worthy stateman's many and fastmultiplying friends, no one had clasped his hand with more cordial congratulation — no one of Lady Auget's devotees had spoken more pleasantly on the circumstance of the new honours, than Lord John Huron. On the first rumour, he had adverted so delicately, yet so feelingly, to the legislative merits of the one, and the scientific deserts of the other,

that her ladyship could not but allow, with much humility, that she felt the dignity to be not only highly encouraging to Sir Smith Auget's patriotism, but perfectly "homogeneous" with her own philosophical propensities.

But there was one who heeded not the honour, who thought not of patriotism, who shrank from philosophy. To her the present was but a dream, troubled by the dark spirit of the past; the future, a dreary and hopeless prolongation of being.

To the eyes of those around her, Emily Auget had seen with dull composure the wreath of orange-flowers removed from her toilette, and had exchanged the white bridal garments for the weeds of widowhood. She had, indeed, started, in a thrill of agony that convulsed every nerve, every fibre, when cautious friends first disclosed that none was living to claim her. Yet the shock was but momentary, and it passed by. She had never heard the particulars of his fate; she had stilled the voice of those who would have told them, and who would have tried to soften her sorrow by unfolding the character of him who was dead.

He was gone! that bare fact was to her heart a full history of entire misery, complete in itself; no incidents could alleviate it, no details make it more terrible.

She never named him; and, if his name fell from the lips of others, she heard it calmly, and without a tear. Lady Auget, therefore, by degrees, wisely began to suspect her of philosophy, in so heroically conquering all romantic regrets; and Sir Smith Auget was fully convinced that Henry Molyneux had been conveniently forgotten. After a period, he again plunged into the complicated diplomacy necessary to bring about an alliance worthy of his only daughter, but in vain. Emily could not be won; and in time all such parental persecutions faded away before the gentle, but lasting purpose of her heart.

The Haye gradually became a focus of splendid hospitality, of ceaseless gaiety, and not less of political movement. Auget Smith Auget, the heir, married to one of the noble ones of the land, abandoned youthful dreams of mere legal exaltation. New honours, new connexions, new ambitions, absorbed him; all

became busied with high and joyful affairs, and all were high and joyous, until Emily, whose presence was as the faint ray of the pale planet on the dancing ocean waves, though in the very midst of them, was unheeded and forgotten.

THE END.

LONDON-PRINTED BY JAMES MOYES, CASTLE STREET,

LEICESTER SQUARE.