themselves into utterance, that it will be more satisfactory and simple to relate the facts as they occurred, without borrowing his language. CHAPTER XIV. "As the lightning's flash passes away, and leaves its influence behind, so does the spirit of man in its flight leave the traces of good or ill, as example or as warning.” “We might think it sleep, were it not that something Too deep and still in those soft-sealed eyes." As Lord Enersdale galloped up to the door of the Paddington Station, and gave his horse to the groom who was waiting for it, the bell was heard which announced the arrival of the train. Sir Horace's servant 'was on the platform, his carriage drawn to the side; and almost the first person who left a railroad carriage was Sir Horace himself. On perceiving Lord Enersdale, he must have imagined that he had also just quitted some carriage on the train, for his first words were, My dear Enersdale, how are you? how glad I am to see you-how badly we have managed not to have come in the same carriage! "I have not come by the train," answered Lord Enersdale. "No! why then, my dear fellow, what lucky chance brings you here?" replied Sir Horace, as he linked his arm within his friend's. "It was no chance, Monro," gravely returned Lord Enersdale, as they both entered the former's chariot; "it was for the purpose of meeting you that I came here. Circumstances, painful circumstances, rendered it desirable; nay, necessary that I should see you before you went home." Lord Enersdale's first words appeared to Sir Horace to relate to his letters respecting Ellen; but the concluding ones, before you went home, startled him. "Is anything the matter? Is Charlotte ill? No, I heard from her this morning. Tell me at once what all this means, I entreat you." "Horace!" said Lord Enersdale, as he laid his hand on his friend's arm;-" it seems a hard fate, that I should be the man always to make known your heaviest griefs to you. You may remember that it was I who had to speak that dreadful sentence, Your father is no more ! "I know it-I remember it," gasped Sir Horace; "but what has that to do with the present time? Great God!" he continued, alarmed at his friend's silence, "what can you have to say,-why remind me of that dread hour?" "Horace! my poor friend," replied Lord Enersdale, with great tenderness, his own voice trembling with emotion, tr nerve your heart, and pray for courage to support you under a grief which will not be less severely felt. Remember that it is not always the young who are exempt from the common lot of all; that in our strongest health death may be hovering round us; we are all frail -all mortal-the creatures of an hour! Today we are here in all our pride of youth and beauty;-to-morrow we are but dust." "I do not-I cannot-I will not understand you," groaned Sir Horace; but the heavy weight with which he fell on Lord Enersdale's shoulder, proved, that if not fully comprehended, the blow was guessed at. After letting down all the windows of the carriage, that the night breeze might revive him, Lord Enersdale saw that consciousness was return |