oud, by his side. I do not know if Harley
made much way in the Blue Book that morning; but a little time after he
spoke in the Lords, and surpassed all that the most sanguine had hoped
from his talents. The sweetness of fame and the consciousness of utility
once fully tasted, Harley's consummation of his proper destinies
was secure. A year later, and his voice was one of the influences of
England. His boyish love of glory revived,--no longer vague and dreamy,
but ennobled into patriotism, and strengthened into purpose. One night,
after a signal triumph, he returned home, with his father, who had
witnessed it, and Violante--who all lovely, all brilliant, though she
was, never went forth in her lord's absence, to lower among fops and
flatterers the dignity of the name she so aspired to raise--sprang to
meet him. Harley's eldest son--a boy yet in the nursery--had been kept
up later than usual; perhaps Violante had anticipated her husband's
triumph, and wished the son to share it. The old earl beckoned the
child to him, and laying his hand on the infant's curly locks, said with
unusual seriousness,

"My boy, you may see troubled times in England before these hairs are
as gray as mine; and your stake in England's honour and peace will be
great. Heed this hint from an old man who had no talents to make a
noise in the world, but who yet has been of some use in his generation.
Neither sounding titles, nor wide lands, nor fine abilities, will give
you real joy, unless you hold yourself responsible for all to your God
and to your country; and when you are tempted to believe that the gifts
you may inherit from both entail no duties, or that duties are at war
with true pleasure, remember how I placed you in your father's arms,
and said, 'Let him be as proud of you some day as I at this hour am of
him.'"

The boy clung to his father's breast, and said manfully, "I will try!"
Harley bent his fair smooth brow over the young earnest face, and said
softly, "Your mother speaks in you!"

Then the old countess, who had remained silent and listening on her
elbow-chair, rose and kissed the earl's hand reverently. Perhaps in that
kiss there was the repentant consciousness how far the active goodness
she had often secretly undervalued had exceeded, in its fruits, her own
cold unproductive powers of will and mind. Then passing on to Harley,
her brow grew elate, and the pride returned to her eye.

"At last," she said, laying on his shoulder