the works he had published, and still
he proposed to bestow on the works more ambitious that he had, in
leisure and competence, the facilities to design with care, and complete
with patience, the name he had himself invented, and linked with the
memory of the low-born mother. Therefore, though there was some
wonder, in drawing-rooms and clubs, at the news of Egerton's first
unacknowledged marriage, and some curiosity expressed as to what the son
of that marriage might do,--and great men were prepared to welcome, and
fine ladies to invite and bring out, the heir to the statesman's grave
repute,--yet wonder and curiosity soon died away; the repute soon passed
out of date, and its heir was soon forgotten. Politicians who fall short
of the highest renown are like actors; no applause is so vivid while
they are on the stage, no oblivion so complete when the curtain falls on
the last farewell.

Leonard saw a fair tomb rise above Nora's grave, and on the tomb was
engraved the word of WIFE, which vindicated her beloved memory. He
felt the warm embrace of Nora's mother, no longer ashamed to own her
grandchild; and even old John was made sensible that a secret weight
of sorrow was taken from his wife's stern silent heart. Leaning
on Leonard's arm, the old man gazed wistfully on Nora's tomb, and
muttering, "Egerton! Egerton! 'Leonora, the first wife of the Right
Honourable Audley Egerton!' Ha! I voted for him. She married the right
colour. Is that the date? Is it so long since she died? Well, well! I
miss her sadly. But wife says we shall both now see her soon; and wife
once thought we should never see her again,--never; but I always knew
better. Thank you, sir. I'm a poor creature, but these tears don't pain
me,--quite otherwise. I don't know why, but I'm very happy. Where's my
old woman? She does not mind how much I talk about Nora now. Oh,
there she is! Thank you, sir, humbly; but I'd rather lean on my old
woman,--I'm more used to it; and--wife, when shall we go to Nora?"

Leonard had brought Mrs. Fairfield to see her parents, and Mrs. Avenel
welcomed her with unlooked-for kindness. The name inscribed upon Nora's
tomb softened the mother's heart to her surviving daughter. As poor John
had said, "She could now talk about Nora;" and in that talk, she and the
child she had so long neglected discovered how much they had in common.
So when, shortly after his marriage with Helen, Leonard went abroad,
Jane Fairfield remained with the