--a
minuteness of circumstance and detail, that, coming from one whose very
eyes betrayed his terrible disease, was infinitely thrilling in its
effect,--related the counsels, the persuasions, the stratagems of
Lumley. Slowly and distinctly he forced into the heart of Maltravers
that sickening record of cold fraud calculating on vehement passion as
its tool; and thus he concluded his narration,--

"Now wonder no longer why I have lived till this hour; why I have
clung to freedom, through want and hunger, amidst beggars, felons, and
outcasts! In that freedom was my last hope,--the hope of revenge!"

Maltravers returned no answer for some moments. At length he said
calmly, "Cesarini, there are injuries so great that they defy revenge.
Let us alike, since we are alike injured, trust our cause to Him who
reads all hearts, and, better than we can do, measures both crime and
its excuses. You think that our enemy has not suffered,--that he has
gone free. We know not his internal history; prosperity and power are no
signs of happiness, they bring no exemption from care. Be soothed and
be ruled, Cesarini. Let the stone once more close over the solemn grave.
Turn with me to the future; and let us rather seek to be the judges of
ourselves, than the executioners of another."

Cesarini listened gloomily, and was about to answer, when--

But here we must return to Lord Vargrave.

CHAPTER IV.

MY noble lord,
Your worthy friends do lack you.--_Macbeth_.

He is about it;
The doors are open.--_Ibid._

ON quitting Lady Doltimore's house, Lumley drove to his hotel. His
secretary had been the bearer of other communications, with the
nature of which he had not yet acquainted himself; but he saw by the
superscriptions that they were of great importance. Still, however,
even in the solitude and privacy of his own chamber, it was not on the
instant that he could divert his thoughts from the ruin of his fortunes:
the loss not only of Evelyn's property, but his own claims upon it (for
the whole capital had been placed in Douce's hands), the total wreck of
his grand scheme, the triumph he had afforded to Maltravers! He ground
his teeth in impotent rage, and groaned aloud, as he traversed his room
with hasty and uneven strides. At last he paused and muttered: "Well,
the spider toils on even when its very power of weaving fresh webs is
exhausted; it lies in wait,--it forces itself into the webs of others.
Br