stling about those little rooms, and
leaving everything therein to all appearance precisely the same,
were among the marvels in life which the genius of Leonard had never
comprehended. But she was always so delighted when Mr. Norreys, or some
rare visitor came, and said,--Mr. Norreys never failed to do so,-"How
neatly all is kept here. What could Leonard do without you, Mrs.
Fairfield?"

And, to Norreys's infinite amusement, Mrs. Fairfield always returned the
same answer. "'Deed, sir, and thank you kindly, but 't is my belief that
the drawin'-room would be awful dusty."

Once more left alone, Leonard's mind returned to the state of revery,
and his face assumed the expression that had now become to it habitual.
Thus seen, he was changed much since we last beheld him. His cheek was
more pale and thin, his lips more firmly compressed, his eye more
fixed and abstract. You could detect, if I may borrow a touching French
expression, that "Sorrow had passed by there." But the melancholy on his
countenance was ineffably sweet and serene, and on his ample forehead
there was that power, so rarely seen in early youth,--the power that has
conquered, and betrays its conquests but in calm. The period of doubt,
of struggle, of defiance, was gone, perhaps forever; genius and soul
were reconciled to human life. It was a face most lovable; so gentle and
peaceful in its character. No want of fire; on the contrary, the fire
was so clear and so steadfast, that it conveyed but the impression of
light. The candour of boyhood, the simplicity of the villager, were
still there,--refined by intelligence, but intelligence that seemed to
have traversed through knowledge, not with the 'footstep, but the wing,
unsullied by the mire, tending towards the star, seeking through the
various grades of Being but the lovelier forms of truth and goodness; at
home, as should be the Art that consummates the Beautiful,--

"In den heitern Regionen
Wo die reinen Formen wohnen."

[At home--"In the serene regions
Where dwell the pure forms."]

From this revery Leonard did not seek to rouse himself, till the bell at
the garden gate rang loud and shrill; and then starting up and hurrying
into the hall, his hand was grasped in Harley's.

CHAPTER XVI.

A full and happy hour passed away in Harley's questions and Leonard's
answers,--the dialogue that naturally ensued between the two, on the
first interview after an ab