There was but one plan to extricate himself from this dilemma, which was to persuade Lord Mowbray, if possible, still to give his support to the ministers, or at least not to join the opposition; and the hope of success in this was very adroitly managed with Lords Cleveland and Oldcastle, so as to suspend, at least, the determination to expel him from his sinecure.

Nor was the task he had undertaken altogether so difficult. He talked of the dignity of not going into opposition out of resentment; of the high character for disinterestedness which Lord Mowbray might now achieve; as well as the possibility that such conduct might, sooner or later, bring him back to office. This latter topic was certainly cogent; and his patron thought with him, that it was but wise not to close the door for ever upon his return. In fact, Lord Mowbray remained neutral, and Mr. Clayton preserved his place.

But greater things were still in store for him, Lord Cleveland, one of whose most kindling objects was an extension of parliamentary influence, thought this an excellent opportunity to mature his designs upon the seat at Wellsbury; and as Lord Mowbray, by the help of Clayton, had ravished it from De Vere, so Lord Cleveland, through the same Clayton, might ravish it from Lord Mowbray. As there was no difficulty from the sitting member, a treaty was therefore the instant consequence, by which all Mr. Clayton's influence and services were transferred to Lord Cleveland, and protection promised in return. This not only saved him from all fear of final dismissal, but gave new life and vigour to his prospects; for Lord Cleveland, when with the minister, enlarged upon the advantage of possessing such an instrument of preserving Lord Mowbray's support, as a reason for fresh favour to Clay

ton.

Lord Oldcastle, who, we have said, was a keen observer, accepted the treason, but abused the traitor. Lord Cleveland, in reply, said he must take men as he found them; and with this convenient mode of reconciling things, favour was promised. As Lord Mowbray made no secret of his wrongs, or of his resent

ment, men wondered at this. But they only wondered; and the machine went on.

It was at this crisis Wentworth and De Vere, after rapidly traversing France, landed at Dover.

CHAPTER X.

DISAPPOINTED AMBITION.

His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life
Began to crack.

SHAKSPEARE,

How few have ever left their country or their home for only three months, and returned to find them unchanged? The course of events-fortune, reputation, health, the affections, ancient alliances-all are acted upon by time. Let those be happy and proportionably thankful, who, even after so short an absence, find all as it should be.

We may suppose how eager the travellers were in their inquiries after events at home, the moment they arrived at any source of intelligence. At Paris, the only thing they learned from the ambassador was, that Lord Mowbray had resigned, but still gave his support to government. At Dover they were informed by the newspapers that he was dying. At Rochester they found that Lord Oldcastle was in distress; at Dartford, that he was as firm as a rock. In London, Lord Cleveland had accepted a great dignity in the Household; and, in the Gazzette, Mr. Clayton was actually appointed to a considerable place under him.

How changed was the great city from what it had appeared on that soft and silent morning when the travellers quitted it. The interminable succession of passengers; the quick step of business; the cries; the roll of carriages, or doors besieged by battering foot

men; the look of care exhibited by those who had been long in town, or of eagerness and curiosity by those just arrived, to attend the opening of Parliament; all this formed a marked contrast to the comparatively magnificent solitudes, and cheerful freedom of Nature, in which they had lately lived. It was equally so to the dead silence of those very streets which they had traversed at the dawn of day, some three months before.

Their feelings were as changed as the scene. A sensation of doubt, uncertainty, and disappointment, as to their immediate lot, or future prospects, hung over them both when they started, which left them, as we saw, far from cheerful. We know not that they were now more certain in their plans; but there was that degree of elasticity and eagerness about them, which a state of great, though undefined expectation always creates; and which, though the future may be dark and shadowy, sheds over the present, an excitement not unexhilarating, though not, perhaps, amounting to absolute confidence.

Whatever were their feelings, the green vallies of the Pyrenees, with their shepherds and Toyas, their crags and torrents, and François, and the man of imagination; in short, primeval life seemed entirely forgotten. Wentworth drove instantly to his club, eager to know what was passing; and De Vere, eager also about politics, but more still about the fate of his family, drove to Grosvenor Square. Wentworth found all he wished from his associates; and De Vere learned all he feared from Dr. Wilmot, who had called at Lord Mowbray's, previous to setting out to visit him

once more.

"I do not like to alarm you," said Wilmot, after the greetings with De Vere were over, "but I should be wanting in fairness if I told you I did not fear the worst."

"And my mother and Constance ?" said De Vere, in much emotion.

"They behave like angels," returned Wilmot; "and if it is lamentable for human nature to see how it may

be sported with for want of proper regulation, it is re viving and most edifying to see what it can do when raised and set off by real virtue."

"My mother, then, is at Castle Mowbray ?" said De Vere.

She is, and of the greatest use to her charming niece, by her exemplary firmness; though I fear, of very little to the poor lord, her brother; for, with sub mission, poor I may justly call him."

"And Mr. Clayton ?"

"He is not there, nor has been. In truth, what should he do there? He could not save Lord Mow

bray, or of course he would. And if So, who can blame him if he remains where he is more wanted?”

"I am sure I do not,” replied De Vere," and yetbut I prophesied it"-and he became much affected by the contending recollections.

At length recovering some calmness, he asked if he could do any good by accompanying Wilmot to the castle; for though his uncle had few demands upon his sympathy, he was indignant at Clayton, and full of tens derness towards his mother and cousin.

"To your uncle, I fear none," replied the doctor; "to your mother much-to Lady Constance, some.” De Vere felt eager at that little word some.

Not to lengthen this part of the narrative, the two gentlemen were quickly agreed; and De Vere, having made a slight preparation for the journey, was soon on the road to Castle Mowbray, with the friendly Wilmot.

During the journey he was informed of all that had passed in his absence; the tottering state of the ministry; their efforts to save themselves by new arrangements; and the consequent disgrace of Lord Mowbray.

Forgive me, for calling it so," said the doctor: for, considering how he has borne it, it is the appropriate term; nor among the many cases of disappointed ambition which I have observed, and endeavoured to cure, have I ever seen one so dangerous, or so obstinate as this. After the most bitter and poignant grief, which

that angel, his daughter, could not assuage, he is now sunk into lethargy, and almost insensibility. If this go on, he will either die, or, what is worse, fall into second childhood."

De Vere shuddered, and expressed his astonishment, that one who had taken such little part in the real direction of affairs, and was in himself so independent as to fortune, should feel the loss of place so acutely.

"I fear we must not examine it," observed Wilmot; "for it is any thing but one of those honourable cases of illness, and sometimes of death, which are occasioned by an excess of sensibility to reverses, wherein the country has been the sufferer, as well as the indi-. vidual."

"Have there ever been such cases?" asked De Vere. "Why, yes; eaten up, as we are supposed to be, by universal selfishness, in our too advanced state of luxury, I have yet seen much spirits-rarely-but I have seen them; and the exclamation of Oh! save my country, heaven!' is not a mere supposition of poetry, to prove that patriotism may be the ruling passion, strong in death.""

*

"Such cases," said De Vere, mournfully, and thinking much of the contrast which his uncle's bore to them, "must be really what you have called themhonourable. But how do you account for the same effect on Lord Mowbray, where the cause seems so inadequate, and when I fear I must allow, that his mind. had not that reach of ability, any more than that elevation of ambition, which can alone, one would think, produce so much unhappiness?"

To be disappointed," answered Wilmot," in whatever we love, with all our heart and soul, corrodes both heart and soul, if unsheathed by philosophy, or, what is better, by religion. On the other hand, experience shows that the violence of a passion is by no means always in proportion either to the honourableness of its object, or to the apparent pleasure of its gratification. Let us not, therefore, blame Lord Mowbray too much, if his ambition was of that little sort, which is confined to little men. I mean mere court favour, or office