iful girl
was again before me.

At the usual period my school days ended, and my college life began. I
was entered at Christ Church, Oxford. I read hard, and obtained the
highest honours. My fame was brilliant. I was talked of, and marked by
my superiors as a rising man.

Shortly afterwards, I was returned as one of the members of a family
borough in my native county, and my first speech in Parliament met with
general applause. The world called me a fortunate man. Oh! they little
knew the nights of horror I passed--the battling I had with my attendant
phantom, which still pursued me, blighted me. But I was mad; and the
excitement of madness was called energy.

How often I have laughed them to scorn, as I have sat alone with the
dark spirit!

My sole ambition was that the girl whom I had seen and admired might
hear of my career; and that, with honours crowded upon me, I might see
her again, that I might place my laurel crown at her feet, lay bare my
heart's best feelings, my undying love for her, and prove to her how
entire was my devotion, how earnest my worship.

I saw many young and lovely girls; and I was told that mothers looked
upon me as a desirable match--but I was true to my first love. I
remembered her in the perfection of maiden beauty--I wished for none
other; and to see _her_ again was my sole hope in life.

After a season of unceasing gaiety and dissipation--sick of London and
its vanities--I determined to travel, and for seven years I was absent
from my native land.

I was recalled to attend the deathbed of my father. I had seen but
little of him; he had no sympathy with me, and in heart we were
strangers to each other. He was proud of my talents, and I was an only
son; but he never bestowed any real affection on me. I honoured him
because he was my parent; but I never loved him as I ought to have loved
a father.

He died, and I succeeded to the baronetcy and estates; but I was already
tired of life--wretched in the midst of my splendour. In a word--_I was
mad_.

At the table of a friend I met a man a few years my senior, whom I had
known at school. We renewed our acquaintance; and I accepted an
invitation to dine at his house, to meet some old schoolfellows.

I consented to go, but not cheerfully, for a moody state of mind was
coming over me. I can remember the struggle, the exertion it was to
dress for the party. Twenty times I was tempted to send a message saying
I was too unwell to go, bu