. Ferrers, without
noticing the interruption, 'and to some accidents of life, which many
esteem above fortune; a station as eminent as his wealth--conceive this
man master of his destiny from his boyhood, and early experienced in
that great world with which you are not unacquainted--conceive him with
a heart, gifted, perhaps, with too dangerous a sensibility; the dupe and
the victim of all whom he encounters--conceive him, in disgust, flying
from the world that had deceived him, and divesting himself of those
accidents of existence which, however envied by others, appeared to his
morbid imagination the essential causes of his misery--conceive this
man, unknown and obscure, sighing to be valued for those qualities of
which fortune could not deprive him, and to be loved only for his own
sake--a miserable man, sir!'

'It would seem so,' said the Consul.

'Now, then, for a moment imagine this man apparently in possession
of all for which he had so long panted; he is loved, he is loved for
himself, and loved by a being surpassing the brightest dream of his
purest youth: yet the remembrance of the past poisons, even now, his
joy. He is haunted by the suspicion that the affection, even of this
being, is less the result of his own qualities, than of her inexperience
of life--he has everything at stake--he dares to submit her devotion to
the sharpest trial--he quits her without withdrawing the dark curtain
with which he had enveloped himself--he quits her with the distinct
understanding that she shall not even hear from him until he thinks fit
to return; and entangles her pure mind, for the first time, in a secret
from the parent whom she adores. He is careful, in the meanwhile, that
his name shall be traduced in her presence--that the proudest fortune,
the loftiest rank, shall be offered for her acceptance, if she only will
renounce him, and the dim hope of his return. A terrible trial, Major
Ponsonby!'

'Indeed, most terrible.'

'But she is true--truer even than truth--and I have come back to claim
my unrivalled bride. Can you pardon me? Can you sympathise with me?'

'I speak, then-----' murmured the astounded Consul--

'To your son, with your permission-to Lord Bohun!'

WALSTEIN; OR A CURE FOR MELANCHOLY

CHAPTER I.

_A Philosophical Conversation between a Physician and
His Patient._

DR. DE SCHULEMBOURG was the most eminent physician in Dresden. He was
not only a physician; he was a philos