e
all he desired. He would not be checked; he might not, he said, be
spared many hours, and he must speak ere he died. Comparatively
speaking, but little actual vice has stained the conduct of Greville.
Throughout all his career the remembrance of his mother has often, very
often mingled in his gayest hours, and dashed them with remorseful
bitterness. He owns that often of late years her image, and that of his
sister Mary, have risen so mildly, so impressively before him, that he
has flown almost like a maniac from the gay and heartless throngs, to
solitude and silence, and as the thoughts of home and his infancy, when
he first lisped out his boyish prayer by the side of his sister at his
mother's knee, came thronging over him, he has sobbed and wept like a
child. These feelings returned at length so often and so powerfully,
that he felt to resist them was even more difficult and painful than to
break from the flowery chains which his gay companions had woven round
him. He declared his resolution; he resisted ridicule and persuasion.
Almost for the first time in his life he remained steadily firm, and
when he had indeed succeeded, and found himself some distance from the
scenes of luxurious pleasure, he felt himself suddenly endowed with an
elasticity of spirit, which he had not experienced for many a long year.
The last tidings he had received of his mother and sister were that they
were at Paris, and thither he determined to go, having parted from his
companions at Florence. During the greater part of his journey to the
French capital, he fancied his movements were watched by a stranger,
gentlemanly in his appearance, and not refusing to enter into
conversation when Greville accosted him; but still Alfred did not feel
satisfied with his companionship, though to get rid of him seemed an
impossibility, for however he changed his course, the day never passed
without his shadow darkening Greville's path. Within eighty miles of
Paris, however, he lost all traces of him, and he then reproached
himself for indulging in unnecessary fears. He was not in Paris two
days, however, before, to his utter astonishment, he was arrested and
thrown into prison on the charge of forging bank-notes, two years
previous, to a very considerable amount. In vain he protested against
the accusation alleging at that time he had been in Italy and not in
Paris. Notes bearing his own signature, and papers betraying other
misdemeanours, were brought f