ion and the destined career of the lover in whom she had merged her
ambition as poetess, and her career as woman. Possibly the father might
be more disposed to own and to welcome the son, if the son could achieve
an opening, and give promise of worth, in that grand world of public
life in which alone reputation takes precedence of rank. Possibly, too,
if the son thus succeeded, and became one whom a proud father could with
pride acknowledge, possibly he might not only secure a father's welcome,
but vindicate a mother's name. This marriage, which Nora darkly hinted
she had been led to believe was fraudulent, might, after all, have
been legal,--the ceremony concealed, even till now, by worldly shame at
disparity of rank. But if the son could make good his own footing--there
where rank itself owned its chiefs in talent--that shame might vanish.
These suppositions were not improbable; nor were they uncongenial to
Leonard's experience of Harley's delicate benignity of purpose. Here,
too, the image of Helen allied itself with those of his parents, to
support his courage and influence his new ambition. True, that she was
lost to him forever. No worldly success, no political honours, could now
restore her to his side. But she might hear him named with respect in
those circles in which alone she would hereafter move, and in which
parliamentary reputation ranks higher than literary fame. And perhaps in
future years, when love, retaining its tenderness, was purified from its
passion, they might thus meet as friends. He might without a pang take
her children on his knees, and say, perhaps in their old age, when he
had climbed to a social equality even with her high-born lord, "It
was the hope to regain the privilege bestowed on our childhood, that
strengthened me to seek distinction when you and happiness forsook my
youth." Thus regarded, the election, which had before seemed to him so
poor and vulgar an exhibition of vehement passions for petty objects,
with its trumpery of banners and its discord of trumpets, suddenly grew
into vivid interest, and assumed dignity and importance. It is ever thus
with all mortal strife. In proportion as it possesses, or is void of,
the diviner something that quickens the pulse of the heart, and elevates
the wing of the imagination, it presents a mockery to the philosopher,
or an inspiration to the bard. Feel that something, and no contest is
mean! Feel it not, and, like Byron, you may class with the s