elonged to a doomed and unhappy
family. Youth and its unconscious mood had hitherto driven this thought
from his mind; but it occurred to him now, and would not be driven away.

Nigel was fortunate. Before sunset he returned to Hurstley in a
postchaise with the Oxford physician, whom he had furnished with an able
and accurate diagnosis of the case. All that art could devise, and all
that devotion could suggest, were lavished on the sufferer, but in
vain; and four days afterwards, the last day of Endymion's long-awaited
holiday, Mr. Ferrars closed for ever the eyes of that brilliant being,
who, with some weaknesses, but many noble qualities, had shared with no
unequal spirit the splendour and the adversity of his existence.

CHAPTER XXVI

Nigel took a high degree and obtained first-class honours. He was
ordained by the bishop of the diocese as soon after as possible. His
companions, who looked up to him with every expectation of his eminence
and influence, were disappointed, however, in the course of life on
which he decided. It was different from that which he had led them to
suppose it would be. They had counted on his becoming a resident light
of the University, filling its highest offices, and ultimately reaching
the loftiest stations in the Church. Instead of that he announced that
he had resolved to become a curate to his father, and that he was about
to bury himself in the solitude of Hurstley.

It was in the early summer following the death of Mrs. Ferrars that he
settled there. He was frequently at the hall, and became intimate with
Mr. Ferrars. Notwithstanding the difference of age, there was between
them a sympathy of knowledge and thought. In spite of his decided mind,
Nigel listened to Mr. Ferrars with deference, soliciting his judgment,
and hanging, as it were, on his accents of wise experience and refined
taste. So Nigel became a favourite with Mr. Ferrars; for there are few
things more flattering than the graceful submission of an accomplished
intellect, and, when accompanied by youth, the spell is sometimes
fascinating.

The death of his wife seemed to have been a great blow to Mr. Ferrars.
The expression of his careworn, yet still handsome, countenance became,
if possible, more saddened. It was with difficulty that his daughter
could induce him to take exercise, and he had lost altogether that
seeming interest in their outer world which once at least he affected to
feel. Myra, though ever conte