st men that we know, but better and higher."

And his uncle standing there in the grand hall-way, with the fresh
splendors of unlimited wealth gleaming upon him from every side, looked
after the young man with a sigh and repeated, "Better and higher? God in
his merciful goodness grant it."

VIII.

SHADOWS OF THE PAST.

"Memory, the warder of the brain."

MACBETH.

It was long past midnight. The fire in the grate burned dimly, shedding
its lingering glow on the face of the master of the house as with bowed
head and folded hands he sat alone and brooding before its dying embers.

It was a lonesome sight. The very magnificence of the spacious apartment
with its lofty walls and glittering works of art, seemed to give an air
of remoteness to that solitary form, bending beneath the weight of its
reflections. From the exquisitely decorated ceiling to the turkish rugs
scattered over the polished floor, all was elegant and luxurious, and
what had splendors like these to do with thoughts that bent the brows
and overshadowed the lips of man? The very lights burned deprecatingly,
illuminating beauties upon which no eye gazed and for which no heart
beat. The master himself seemed to feel this, for he presently rose and
put them out, after which he seated himself as before, only if possible
with more abandon, as if with the extinguishing of the light some eye
had been shut whose gaze he had hitherto feared. And in truth my lady's
image shone fainter from its heavy panel, and the smile which had met
with unrelenting sweetness the glare of the surrounding splendor,
softened in the mellow glimmer of the fire-light to an etherial halo
that left you at rest.

_One, two_, THREE, the small clock sounded from the mantel and yet no
stir took place in the sombre figure keeping watch beneath. What were
the thoughts which could thus detain from his comfortable bed a man
already tired with manifold cares? It would be hard to tell. The waters
that gush at the touch of the diviner's rod are tumultuous in their flow
and rush hither and thither with little heed to the restraining force of
rule and reason. But of the pictures that rose before his eyes in those
dying embers, there were two which stood out in startling distinctness.
Let us see if we can convey the impression of them to other eyes and
hearts.

First, the form of his mother. Ah grey-bearded men weighted with the
cares of life and absorbed in the monotonous rou