ve them?"

"Yes."

"Not under the same provocation?"

"I have done so under worse."

"God in Heaven!--how is that possible?"

"It is true."

"I won't believe it," said I, turning angrily upon the pillow. "It is
not in human nature; and few can rise above the weakness of their
kind."

"Listen to me, Geoffrey," said Harrison, seating himself on the side of
the bed. "You wished very much at one time to learn from me the story
of my past life. I did not think it prudent at that time, and while
under Robert Moncton's roof, to gratify your curiosity. I will do so
now, in the hope of beguiling you out of your present morbid state of
feeling, while it may answer the purpose of teaching you a good, moral
lesson, which I trust you will not easily forget.

"Man's happiness depends in a great measure on the sympathy of others.
His sufferings, by the same rule, are greatly alleviated when
contrasted with the miseries of his neighbours, particularly if their
sorrows happen to exceed his own.

"Much of my history must remain in the shade, because time alone can
unravel the mystery by which I am surrounded; and many important
passages in my life, prudence forces me to conceal. But, my dear
fellow, if my trials and sufferings will in any way reconcile you to
your lot, and enable you to bear with fortitude your own, your friend
will not have suffered and sinned in vain."

George adjusted my pillows, and gave me my medicine, stirred the fire
to a cheerful blaze, and commenced the narrative that for so many
months I had so ardently longed to hear.

* * * * *

HARRISON'S STORY.

"Perhaps, Geoffrey, you are not aware that your grandfather left Sir
Robert Moncton, the father of the present Baronet, guardian and trustee
to his two sons, until they arrived at their majority; Edward at the
time of his death, being eighteen years of age, Robert a year and a
half younger.

"What tempted Geoffrey Moncton to leave his sons to the guardianship of
the aristocratic father, from whom he had parted in anger many years
before, no one could tell.

"The Baronet was a very old man, and was much respected in his day; and
it is possible that the dying merchant found by experience, that he
could place more reliance on the honour of a gentleman, than in a man
of business. Or it might be, that on his death-bed he repented of the
long family estrangement, and left his sons to the care of their
grandfa