tation
and place at once, if she wants them."

"What if O'Shea were to supplant Sir William? I half suspect he would
succeed. He hasn't a sixpence. It's exactly his own beat to find some
one willing to support him."

"Well, I 'll back myself to get him a place. I 'll not say it will be
anything very splendid or lucrative, but something he shall have. Come,
Charley, leave this to me. Let O'Shea and myself dine _tete-a-tete_
to-day, and I 'll contrive to sound him on it."

"I mean to aid you so far, for I know my father would take it ill were I
to dine away from home,--on the first day too; but I own I have no great
confidence in your plan, nor any unbounded reliance on your diplomacy."

"No matter, I'll try it; and, to begin, I'll start at once with a letter
to Downing Street I have never asked for anything yet, so I 'll write
like one who cannot contemplate a refusal."

"I wish you success, for all our sakes," said Charles; and left him.

END OF VOL. I.

ONE OF THEM, Volume II.

CHAPTER I. THE LONE VILLA ON THE CAMPAGNA.

About half-way between Rome and Albano, and something more than a mile
off the high-road, there stands on a little swell of the Campagna a
ruined villa, inhabited by a humble family of peasants, who aid their
scanty means of support by showing to strangers the view from the
house-top. It is not, save for its extent, a prospect in any way
remarkable. Rome itself, in the distance, is not seen in its most
imposing aspect, and the Campagna offers little on which the eye cares
to rest long.

The "Villa of the Four Winds," however, is a place sought by tourists,
and few leave Rome without a visit to it. These are, of course, the
excursions of fine days in the fine season, and never occur during the
dark and gloomy months of midwinter. It was now such a time. The wind
tore across the bleak plain, carrying fitful showers of cold rain,
driving cattle to their shelter, and sending all to seek a refuge within
doors; and yet a carriage was to be seen toiling painfully through the
deep clay of the by-road which led from the main line, and making for
the villa. After many a rugged shake and shock, many a struggling effort
of the weary beasts, and many a halt, it at length reached the little
paved courtyard, and was speedily surrounded by the astonished peasants,
curious to see the traveller whose zeal for the picturesque could bid
defiance to such weather.

As the steps were let down,