were not vulgar, but they were not attractive. | can combine two or three bad railways into one Robert Anderson found himself in the House a vote, and in the club, if not a bore, a nothing. A feeling of his insignificance flashed scathingly on the quivering pride of Robert Anderson. Mere wealth would not do; mere wealth could not bring even worldly success. His brain gave way under the perception. In his insanity he fancied his wealth had flown. A cloud must always rest on what it would be too painful to look upon, his sudden death and untimely grave. To conclude, after the manner of Marmontel in his tales, and the old divines in the sermons, with a moral lesson, or practical application. For the mere ends of a worldly ambition, money alone will not do. Our age has many vices, and there are numerous votaries of Mammon addicted to this sordid vice. But they are a class by themselves, like the gamblers, the tuft-hunters, the profligates. They are only a portion of the people of this generation. When a Joseph Somes dies, the greatest of shipowners, the signals of mourning are seen on every vessel from London Bridge to Blackwall. However, he was the hero of none but the money makers of the shipping interest. When met at a west-end dinner table, he was merely a rich unknown. At the stations of his iron kingdom, the Railway King is saluted with royal honours. Every hat is taken off to him, and the train stops at a wave of his hand. In a committee of the House of Commons, he is merely a curious specimen of the commercial class. True it is that twenty thousand pounds are subscribed as a testimonial to him; justly, because the subscribers owe many thousands to his talents as an administrator of railway companies. However, he again is only a favourite of a class. His testimonial is deemed a disgrace to the age. While he lived, Thomas Clarkson had no testimonial. His appearance was not a signal for uncovering, and there were no fleets in mourning on the day of his interment. But in the whole of the shipping, or of the railway interests, perhaps there is not to be found a man who would even compare their most successful representatives with the hero of a generous cause. Admiration is the due of the man who knows, to a voyage, how long a ship will be serviceable, or him who good one. But it is the hero who devotes himself to something nobler than the gilding or crowning of his own selfishness-who makes light where there was darkness-and righteousness where there was oppression, at whose name disinterested hearts swell reverently. The conception of a man devoting himself in youth a living sacrifice to a benevolent end, forces from the faltering lips of all the best spirits the epithet godlike. Men admire in classes. The votaries of gold worship the most successful money-grubbers. People of literary tastes admire the builders of the most beautiful fabrics of words. The money lovers pity the men of letters as poor fellows, who cannot give dinners. The taste of the admirer dictates the object of his admiration. Hundreds make the wealth of the man their first inquiry after his name, and thousands never think of people in reference to their money. Many never realise to themselves at all the fact that a man is wealthy. All they think about is, whether they like him. The acquisition of wealth helps a man into the society of those who care more for his manners than his money. The reason is obvious. He who has nothing but his money to give has nothing to bestow but that which can seldom be offered without insult, and scarcely ever accepted without degradation. The well-bred man is apparelled in a robe of gracefulness. His gentle bearing, his chivalrous courtesies, his beautiful kindnesses, exalt and delight the giver and the receiver. Well-to-do people need to ward off the pains of life; they have plenty of dinners, carriages, mansions, parks. They need their ignorance lessened; and the man who gives them an idea they had not, truly adds to the only riches they want. The sum of the whole matter is, the intelligent, the sordid, the generous, all admire the chiefs of their own orders. No man can be the hero of all. Analyse society, and you find in it everywhere sordid, quackish, noble spirits. It is for a man to determine whose abuse he would prefer, whose praise he will seek; for he cannot serve both the bad and the good; and they alone are successful in life above all abuse, and all praise, who live for the celestial—well done! MRS. THORNTON'S TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD.* WERE Mrs. Thornton aware of the storm of indignation which, from various quarters, has burst upon our devoted heads, for stopping short in the middle of her Romance, she could not fail, if literary fame be dear to her, to be highly gratified. For the abrupt termination of "Truth and Falsehood" in the pages of Tait, we have now to offer such explanation as must, we hope, be quite satisfactory; preliminary to a sketch of the conclusion of a story which proved so attractive to many of our readers as to provoke their ire by a temporary interruption. The truth is, that we were bound to insert Mrs. Gore's Tale, entitled " Temptation and Atonement," as early as possible, in order that it might be brought out in volumes by Mr. Colburn, at the beginning of the season; and, as one or other of the Tales must needs give way, Mrs. Gore's, "Truth and Falsehood," a Romance, by Elizabeth Thornton, authoress of "The Marchioness," "Lady Alice," &c. &c. three volumes. London: Chapman & Hall. were it but for her seniority as an author, seemed entitled to precedence, independently of her stipulation with her London publisher. And now for the close of a Romance most hopefully begun, and long continued in this Magazine; and which, by those who like to see handsome books in large type on their tables, may now be obtained, in three volumes, from the publishers. Our readers will remember the critical circumstances in which we left the principal personages of the story; the mysterious murder of the villain De Sablons, the husband of the Lady Felsenberg; the dreadful suspicions which haunted the mind of that unhappy lady's son, Herman; and the friendly warning given by Queen Katharine to the whole family of an impending arrest by the French Government for "great harm done to a subject of France"-or, in other words, a suspicion of their being concerned in the murder of De Sablons. trude, and Blanche, his cousin and betrothed. Sad change had been in his home. His mother, who, with many noble and amiable qualities, was more the creature of impulse than of reason, had, in his absence, been induced to contract a secret marriage with a young and very handsome and fascinating, but thoroughly worthless adventurer, whose only object was her great wealth. The profligate character and villanous schemes of her husband, De Sablons, could not long be concealed from the unhappy lady, who soon saw that in ruining the prospects of her children, she had allied herself to a wretch whom she now hated and despised; and whose heart, if heart he had, had been given to her niece, Blanche, even before her ill-omened and secret marriage. On the return of Herman-an event which should have diffused unbounded joy through the household-the hidden anguish of his mother increased. Every member of the family shunned the others. Confidence was destroyed; everything went wrong; a curse seemed to have fallen upon the house. The marriage had never been avowed by Lady Felsenberg; and upon the sudden death of the officiating priest, who with two servants, Esther and Barneck, devoted to their lady from her infancy, had been the only witnesses of her marriage, she formed the bold design of denying it, and braving her husband. And by the sophistry of passion, she justified herself in every means which might enable her to protect the in Yet, as some of our readers may not have seen the commencement, it may be necessary, as briefly as possible, to recapitulate the leading incidents of the story :-About the beginning of the 16th century, Herman, a young soldier of Germany, who, as a vassal of the empire, had been serving in Spain, under Charles V., found himself, on a cold, stormy November night, in a miserable inn, between Pampeluna and Oleron. He was here joined next day by a certain Pedrillo, a muleteer, well known on the road and in the house, who, though he looked very like the rogue which he real-terests of her children, and break her galling ly was, proved lively and amusing, and gaily sped chains. This resolution gave rise to many trying the time, by singing love romances to his guitar. scenes; but, for the moment, Lady Felsenberg Later in the day, another party of travellers triumphed, and the villain-husband awaited his reached the venta-mysterious characters, but, time. Once the lady was waylaid, carried off evidently, of high consideration; and to the prin- by him and his associates, and rescued from imcipal personage, who was no other than Mar- prisonment by her son. But her distress speedily garet of Valois, a daughter of France, and the became more complicated. In a few months, she Queen of Navarre, the young soldier was after- must give birth to the child of this detested man. wards able to render the most invaluable service. Her wretched condition was made known only to A plan had been laid by the emissaries of the her maid, Esther, and to Blanche, her niece; and Emperor to capture and carry her back to Madrid, the infant, as soon as born, was sent to be nursed and she was now flying to the frontiers of France. in a distant village. The family, from this time, In this scheme, the muleteer was an instrument, lived almost in a state of siege, and took every though baffled by the superior address of Torna- precaution that the lady might evade the atlina, the beautiful and clever niece of the moun- tempts and stratagems of De Sablons to get her tain hunter, to whose cabin Pedrillo had wiled again into his power.-Esther was a leading spirit them, and by the bravery and gallantry of Her- in the household, and a native of England; and, man; though as yet he knew nothing whatever of by her suggestion, it was finally agreed that, the high rank of the lady whose queenly bearing under a feigned name, the family should seek a and evident distress had so deeply interested his refuge in that country, while Herman returned feelings. After a hard chase, and at great peril, the to the army. Their English home, the old manorunknown lady and her attendants safely reached house of Fenmoor, was situated on a high moor, or the frontiers of France, and Herman took a re- down, on the coast of Devonshire. Thither Herspectful leave of the "Lady Marguerite," as he man escorted them, and here for a time they ennow heard her named. At parting, she pre-joyed quiet; but again De Sablons appeared. He sented him with a ring, requesting him if he ever needed a friend at the Court of France, to inquire for her in the household of the Duchess d'Alençon, when he might find the ring a powerful talisman. Herman, half in love with the all-accomplished mysterious stranger, has tened, nevertheless, to join his family at Felsenberg, in Germany-his widowed mother, still a young and lovely woman, his young sister, Ger had been reported killed in a duel; but now he was too surely seen lurking in disguise about the grounds, and his first act was to steal away the child whom he suspected to be his own, and who now, two years old, was living in the family as the protegée of Lady Felsenberg. The misery of the bereaved mother discovered to Herman and his sister, Gertrude, what Blanche alone certainly knew-viz., that the little Betta was the child of their unfortunate mother, and the daughter of the basest of mankind. Here is distress enough. But that same night, the mangled body of De Sablons, the cause of so much misery, was found at the bottom of the cliff, near the dwelling of Lady Felsenberg; and Herman, who had been wandering on the shores was the secret witness of things which filled his mind with the most agonising suspicion. His mother-his wretched mother! was she a murderess? To this length the story had proceeded in Tait's Magazine; and to its pages the reader may look back for those full details and high-wrought dramatic scenes which we have barely indicated, and with which most of our readers must already be familiar. The warning of Queen Katharine came too late to prevent the capture of Lady Felsenberg, Blanche, and Gertrude; but Herman, who had fortunately been absent, escaped, and speedily made every arrangement to discover whither they had been carried, and to follow them. After a few hours of sleep, the party, consisting now of Herman, the servants Barneck and Fritz, with the little Betta, who had been restored-in the manner afterwards to be seen were early astir, on their way to London, and en route for Paris, whither the prisoners had been taken. Leaving the little Betta under the care of a lady of the Court, Herman and his attendants in safety reached Paris, and found that the prisoners were confined in the Châtelet. To that prison he found means of admittance, and saw the whole beloved group; mother, sister, and his shy cousin, the cold-mannered though warm-hearted Blanche. They occupied a long, low-ceiled room, decently furnished; nor resembling a prison, save in the massy iron bars of the windows. "An oaken table stood at the farther end, round which sat his mother, Blanche, and Gertrude; Esther on the tiled floor at their feet. At his appearance a joyful exclamation burst simultaneously from the whole group, who sprung up to greet a visiter so welcome. Even Blanche, the cold, shy Blanche, apparently obeying an involuntary impulse, with sparkling eyes rushed to meet the astonished young man, whose arms seemed also involuntarily stretched forth to enfold her; but, checking herself, she resumed her gravity, and with a deep blush retreated behind the others. Short as their separation had been, there was nevertheless much to ask and to tell. "Many and eager were the questions respectively put nd answered. Foremost among them were those that related to the little Betta, whose bestowal in safety and comfort was a beam of sunshine amid the gloom which now enveloped the family, and tended much to calm and cheer them. Would you believe, Herman,' said Gertrude, 'that we are accused of the death of De Sablons? That villan ous Durochet has accused us of the crime! the better, doubtless, to screen himself; for I firmly believe he him self murdered him.' 666 For shame, Gertrude!' said Lady Felsenberg, sharply. How often must I say to you, "Judge not, lest ye be judged?" You have no proof whatever, yet you rashly dare to assert his guilt. God knows the sad secret,' she added gravely. The name of the guilty one shall ordain its disclosure. You will know the fatal truth will be published, and the crime punished, when His will but too soon.'" From farther conversation, Herman learned that Durochet, the infamous friend or associate of De Sablons, was bringing witnesses from England to establish the charge of murder against them ; while a kind-hearted priest, who visited them in prison, was seeking out able lawyers to defend them in the criminal court. Nothing more could meanwhile be done; and Herman, disengaged from his first duty, was proceeding to deliver the letters with which he had been charged, when, to his great vexation, he found that the one addressed to the King of France had disappeared, He had understood that it recommended him doubly vexatious. Lest the letter to the Emto the protection of the King, so that this was peror might also be lost, Herman at once gave it related the unhappy circumstances of his family. to the care of the Count de Preville, to whom he The Count gave him good hopes of defeating the machinations of Durochet, a man whom he de scribed as a needy adventurer. Herman, he said, "belonged to a noble family: he had money in his purse." Had he been poor and obscure, as certainly would the Count have predicted that the decision of the criminal court would be against him. The hopes of Herman revived; nor could he quarrel with an administration of justice which, however partial or iniquitous, might benefit his mother, and defeat the nefarious schemes of Durochet. tance to the Châtelet; and almost distracted and Next morning, Herman was refused admitat a complete stand when he found that his only friend, De Preville, had left Paris for some weeks. He rambled on unheeding, until he accidentally found himself in the precincts of the palace; and this brings us back to the spirited opening of the romance, and the adventure on the frontier of Spain, when the young soldier had performed such gallant and signal service to the mysterious Lady Marguerite. The ring which she had presented to him at parting, with such memorable words, at this moment accidentally caught his eye, and recalled the lady's voluntary promise, just as he was racking his brain to devise means of introducing himself to the presence of the royal Francis without the credentials of the Queen of England. "Suddenly as he looked at it, his eye brightened, and hope awoke in his heart. With a light and quick step he returned again to the palace, soliloquising as he went, I will ask for the Lady Marguerite! Who knows but that she may be able to aid me? She said she had some influence at the French Court. Who knows, as she said, but the ring may prove a talisman to serve me at my need?' "He crossed the great court, filled with a bustling crowd hastily moving in different directions, entered the palace, and proceeded until he was stopped, when he inquired for the Lady Marguerite, and, to invite civility, at the same time offered a piece of money. What Lady Marguerite? said the man. A lady in the service of, and living with, the King's sister,' replied Herman. "I know no such person; but pass on! He did so, crossed another court and entered a hall, from which arose a broad staircase, guarded by a massive marble balustrade. At the foot of it stood two sentinels, who, on his approach, crossed their halberds to bar his passage. "Again he made a demand to see the lady he was in quest of, presenting the same golden passport. After some hesitation they also suffered him to proceed. He mounted the broad stairs, and saw before him the open door of the guard chamber, in which a small number of officers were lounging. There seemed no end to his difficulties, for here he was rudely repulsed with an assurance that there was no Lady Marguerite in the service of the King's sister. Herman, with bitter feelings of grief and indignation swelling in his heart, at the deceit and ingratitude of the woman he had so well served in the hour of danger and difficulty, turned away, and was about to retreat in despair, when the figure of the lady presented itself to his memory as she had then appeared, grateful, gracious, and dignified. He recalled the whole of her conduct during that eventful day and night, and he finished his reverie on the top of the stairs by exclaiming aloud, It is impossible! she could not-would not have deceived me!' "The officer appeared to be watching him, probably rendered curious by the eager yet embarrassed manner of the applicant. As Herman uttered this ejaculation, he said, 'How old is the lady you wish to find? She is of course young and handsome? I am afraid she has jilted you, sir!" he added with a smile. "Spite of his smile of derision and his mocking mien, llerman turned again to him, described the lady, and repeated, 'Tis impossible that she should have deceived me. Truth and honour were stamped on her noble brow. She was a woman such as one seldom sees. She said she had influence at the court, and gave me this ring as a token of her gratitude, for a small service I had the good fortune to render her.' "Ha! said the officer, as he looked at the ring, 'I begin to comprehend this affair. We have a Lady Marguerite, of whom we-of whom France is proud. She is, indeed, such a woman as one seldom sees. Good and great as she is beautiful. Follow me, sir. Had you sooner shown the ring, it would have saved you much trouble. You would have found it a passport no one would have dared to disobey!' "Herman gladly followed him. They traversed the guard-room, passed through a long gallery into a saloon, where he requested him to wait, disappearing by a door on the opposite side. In a few minutes a young and elegant lady entered, arrayed in the singular but picturesque dress of a Navarrese gentlewoman. The deep black and gold fringe swinging round her slender ankles and white arms, from the ample folds of the satin petticoat and the hanging sleeves of the tight bodice, which set off to the atmost advantage the slender and graceful form it covered; aided in its effect by the light and transparent vel fastened to the comb at the back of the head, and falling to the ground in shadowy folds. "As this graceful lady advanced, she fixed her large dark eyes on Herman, and said with a curtsy, You request an audience of her Highness the Queen of Na varre, sir? "He was about to say more, but she hastily left him. "Returning again, after a short absence, with a gay and laughing face, she said, Advance, noble knight of the galloping steed! I have orders to present you to her Highness the Duchesse D'Alençon, now Queen of Navarre. Advance, and see if you can discover the Lady Marguerite among the dames and damsels in her train." " To be brief, Herman was conducted into a magnificent apartment, in which were many beautiful and splendidly dressed ladies, and foremost among them was that noble dame, whose fair and lofty brow gave, rather than borrowed, distinction from the diadem by which it was encircled. "Herman looked at her, and recognised the unforgotten Lady Marguerite in the Queen of Navarre, that firm and faithful protectress of the hunted and persecuted Protestants-their only steady and consistent friend in France. * * * "Astonished and somewhat confused, Herman stood before the Queen of Navarre; but quickly reassured by the smiling welcome he met with, he bent his knee, and kissed the hand graciously extended towards him, as she said, Welcome, noble sir; we are glad to see again our own true knight! You sought us: what can we do to serve a gentleman to whom we deem ourselves greatly beholden?' "Herman related the unhappy circumstances under which his family were placed. "How' she exclaimed, 'confined! The Lady Felsenberg imprisoned. On what charge?' "Herman hesitated, and at length stammered out a few words, that seemed to choke him, in explanation. "Murder!' she repeated with a start, but the accusation is false? they are doubtless innocent?' "Again Herman cast down his eyes and hesitated. She looked at him earnestly for a moment, motioned to the ladies to retire, and as they retreated she said gravely, 'I am anxious to serve you, sir; but to enable me to do so you must be candid with me. There must be no reserve. Do you believe the charge to be a just one?' Alas, your Highness he replied, I know not what to say; I have never dared to ask. I have always feared to inquire.' She stopped. The pale and agitated countenance of the brave young man, to whom she owed a weighty obligation, moved her greatly. After a pause of silent reflection, she said, 'There is but one course to take in an affair like this. You must get this lady out of confinement. Effect her escape from Le Châtelet.' "Alas, madam!' he replied, I fear she will not consent: I have already proposed this plan.' "How! she will not consent to fly from condemnation, from death?' 666 'No,' said Herman mournfully: she has never explained her motives for refusing to listen to my proposal, and, as I told your Highness, I have not dared to investigate. But I believe she thinks it her duty to submit to punishment, to bow her head in humbleness to the will whom she had been betrothed, although so long esof God.' May the holy saints have heed of us, but this is a strange affair!' exclaimed the Queen surprised, but apparently also greatly relieved; for her bright eyes sparkled, and her cheek again dimpled with a smile as she added, "You described your lady mother as gentle, affectionate, and just, refusing to fly, though threatened with death, because she thinks it her duty to submit and suffer. Trust me, sir, this lady is no murderer! take comfort, sir, and courage. Be sure there is some unhappy combination of circumstances which will yet be explained. Meantime, depend on us, we will do all we can to aid you.' "Heaven bless you, madam! he replied, for the hope, the relief, you have given to my heavy heart.' '' In farther conversation, the Queen explained the strange circumstances in which she had been placed by treachery, when Herman so opportunely came to her rescue, and through her rendered great service to France and to the Protestant cause. The King entered the drawing-room, and his royal sister obtained his signature to an order for the free admission of Herman and his friends to the prisoners in the Châtelet. He was then dismissed, with the gracious assurance from the Queen of Navarre of her anxiety to serve and assist him; and he was farther ordered freely to apply to her, through his old acquaintance, now the "Lady Tornalina," the ready minister of the Queen's will; her favourite and confidential attendant. Daily consultations were now held at the Chatelet, and arrangements made for the approaching trial. For this purpose, it was necessary that Herman should learn every minute circumstance connected with the death of De Sablons ; but his mother maintained a pertinacious silence. With a strange pertinacity which almost argued a shaken intellect, she declared she would have no human help, but would leave her cause to God. If it was the Almighty will that she should be condemned, she would bend to the decree unmurmuring. She should rejoice, she said, if she were acquitted, for her children's sake, but she would not seek to save herself by human agency. "For my children only is it that I grieve, that I fear,' she murmured, bursting into tears. 'I never hoped, I did not expect ever to have seen you, Herman, again; but you came. I resigned myself to the will of God, and he sent you to comfort me. Even my little Betta, perhaps She paused, the subject was one she feared to touch. With an effort to recover her composure she ceased to weep, and added in a low, but solemn tone, 'Whatever is to come, His will be done!' 46 They had been so engrossed by the deep interest of the terrible subject they were discussing, that they thought not of the auditors to whom the astounding facts implied by their words were thus abruptly revealed. Their attention was drawn to the two young women by the broken sobs of Gertrude, which alone disturbed the mournful silence which now reigned in the prison chamber. "Blanche shed no tears, but sat pale and still, with an expression of suffering on her face, and a wildness in her eye, that was far more alarming. Herman rose and went to her. She put her two hands into his, and leaned her head against his side, but spoke not. "Dear Blanche,' he said, kissing the hands with which she grasped his own, take courage.' "Tears at length came to relieve her overcharged heart, and she murmured as she wept, Oh, Herman, do you take courage! Strive to bear up! It is for you I -I suffer.' "Poor Blanche! she had a double portion of misery to endure; for she loved, and always loved the man to tranged from him. So cold, so guarded, had her conduct been that he knew it not. But she had watched him with the earnest eye of affection--had seen him become pale and thin under the pressure of a secret sorrow, which he had told to none. This was now revealed; and with the true sympathy of a gentle nature, and a loving heart, she felt the full extent of what he must have suffered. Greatly affected by this proof of sensibility on the part of a woman whom he still loved, although he thought she cared not for him, he stood silently beside her, half inclined to ask her why she had blighted the happiness of one for whose sorrows she could still so keenly feel. But at this moment the warder's key grating in the lock, and the creaking of the iron bolts, anhe quitted her, to bestow a kind caress and a few words nounced the necessity of separating. With a heavy sigh of comfort on his mother and Gertrude. He left the room, and they felt, as the door closed on him, that they were indeed prisoners." On the two following days Herman endeavoured to shake his mother's obstinate and determined silence, but in vain; and on the third he was alarmed to find himself, by the alleged counter-order of the king, refused admission to the prisoners. He hurried to the palace, where Tornalina, warmly sympathising in his distress, at once introduced him to her royal mistress. The Queen could form no idea of the cause of this interference and obstruction to her wishes :— Tornalina gravely nodded her head in the affirmative, as she left the room, not now disposed to laugh, for affairs appeared to be taking an ill aspect for the protegé of the Queen, who was, of course, her protegé also; as were all who sought refuge from persecution and oppression in the benevolent influence so kindly and steadily exerted by the good Marguerite. "Yes,' she said, in reply to Herman's half-uttered question; 'Pedrillo, the Biscayan arricro. He has been some time in our service, and is one of our most useful agents.' But your Majesty is aware of his treachery?' said Herman. That he would Yes,' she said quietly with a smile, 'he would have sold me to your Imperial master. He told me so himself. The knave is frank enough. He recommended himself first to our notice by his musical talents, which are considerable. He is a clever fellow; he has wit enough to know his own interest; that binds him to us. At once crafty, intelligent, and unscrupulous, he aids us in our plans, as a better man neither could nor would do. Such men are but too necessary-indispensable in the present state of affairs in this country.' "Herman looked surprised, but he said nothing. You would scarcely believe,' she continued, how much good that bad man enables me to do-traitor and spy, as were the real names he merited when he called himself a muleteer and traveller's guide, over the mountains which separate France from Spain.' As she finished speaking, Pedrillo entered, dressed in the green and gold uniform worn by that class of persons known by the name of supernumeraries, and whose occupation was better understood than capable of definition- secret service men'-of whom many were retained in almost every nobleman's establishment in France, and a still greater number in royal households, during the sixteenth century. |