avoir, and "Wilfred the
disinherited."

"Never mind, Julian; it matters very little to _you_," said Lillyston
proudly.

"Anyhow I must have no more fits of idleness," answered Julian.

And indeed the only pain it caused him arose from the now necessary
decision that he must go to Saint Werner's College _as a sizar_, or not
at all. But for all that he went home with a light heart, and had once
more gained the proud distinction of head-remove--one for which, at that
time, I very much doubt whether he would have exchanged the prospect of
a rich inheritance.

And the misfortune proved an advantage to Cyril too, as we shall see.

"So here's the little rogue who has lost me a thousand a year," said
Julian laughingly, when he got home, and took Cyril on his knee by the
fireside after dinner. The next moment he was very sorry he had said
it, for Cyril hung his head, and seemed quite disconcerted; but his
brother laughed away his sorrow, as he thought, and no further allusion
to the subject was made.

But that night, as Julian looked into his brother's bedroom before he
went to bed, he found Cyril crying, and his pillow wet with tears.

"Cyril, what's the matter, my boy?--you're not ill, are you?"

Cyril sat up, his eyes still swimming, and threw his arms round his
brother's neck. "I've ruined you, Julian," he said.

"My dear child, what nonsense! Nay, my foolish little fellow," answered
Julian, "this is really a mistake of yours. Aunt Vinsear was angry with
me for my letters,--not with you. Don't cry so, Cyril, for I really
don't care a rush about it; but I shall care if it vexes you. But shall
I tell you why you ought to know of it, Cyril?"

"Why?"

"Because, my boy, it affects you too. You know, Cyril, that we are very
poor now. Well, you see we shall have to support ourselves hereafter,
and mother and Violet depend on us so you must work hard, Cyril, will
you? and don't be idle at Marlby, as I'm afraid you have been. Eh, my
boy?"

The boy promised faithfully, and performed the promise well in after
days; but that night Julian did not leave him until he was fast asleep.

We shall tell only one more scene of Julian's Harton life, and that very
briefly.

It is a glorious summer afternoon; four o'clock bell is just over, and
it is expected that in a few minutes the examiner, (an old Hartonian and
senior classic), will read out the list which shall give the result of
many weeks' hard work. The Newry