'Tis but to die, -dogs do it, ducks with dabbling, There was a time when I should have looked upon death as an evil; then I had much to do; but now, -τετελεσται, it is finished, -my work is done; and I am ready." Then, suddenly checking himself, he asked, "Have you seen Leicester of late?-Lord Leicester, -I beg his Lordship's pardon;" and a forced smile played upon his lips. "Oh! yes, Mr. Delaval; I saw him but a few weeks ago," and then I alluded cursorily to our midnight revels at Stonehenge. " It is well," cried the sick man, earnestly, and then, as if suddenly recollecting himself,-" did he say any thing about me?" "I asked him if he knew your abode, and he said, that you were probably upon the Continent; but that he had not seen you for some time, and did not know where you were residing." "Did he say that?" exclaimed Delaval, in a sorrowful tone of voice. "Poor Leicester! God forgive thy frailties, for assuredly they are many and great.-Jerningham, our connexion at school used to mystify you; I know it did. You have come opportunely; but for this meeting you would have died in ignorance of my story. As it is, I have long been seeking a confidant,-I wish to unburthen myself; but not now; another day, come to me, and you shall learn my secret." * Beaumont and Fletcher's Mad Lover. "Secret! what secret?" I asked, with an hypocritical affectation of surprise. "Nonsense!-you know well enough that there is a secret, Jerningham. You took me for an inexplicable being; I am still one; you are lost in wonder. I must help you to unravel the mystery, for you will never do it unaided, I am sure." "Mr. Delaval, I am proud of your confidence." "Nay; there is no confidence; why need a dying man be silent; why carry his secrets with him to the grave? My history may be a warning to you; and I look upon posthumous reputation as indeed the vainest of vanities. I am going,-oh God! Jerningham, I know not whither I am going. 'In my father's house there are many mansions.' May not one of them be opened to me?" "Oh, Delaval!" I cried, "hope is forbidden unto none; and thou, I am sure, needest not despair." "Wait till you have heard my story, and then you will judge otherwise. Jerningham, you may remember the time when you or some of your school-fellows were pleased to consider me an atheist. Would that I had been one! When a man wishes that he could urge infidelity as an excuse for the evil he has committed, how fearfully conditioned he must be. But I"-then he broke off suddenly and resumed-" I am growing foolish. You had better leave me for the present. This day se'nnight I shall be ready for you; then, methinks, dissolution will be nigh. But hark you, in the mean time keep your peace, and say nothing of the meeting which has been between us. If I feel the hand of death to be on me before the hour I have appointed for your coming, I will write to you. Come, when 'tis dark. Now, farewell, until we meet again. Depend upon it, that I will not disappoint you." I shook him by the hand; and was departing, when the sick man recalled me, saying, "You used to be an admirer of Shakspeare. Before you visit my lodging again, read Lear-and attentively. It will help you to understand some portions of my history; and, now again, Jerningham, adieu." But I tarried to ask a question-" Mr. Delaval, you remember Sinclair. Have you seen him since he left school?-or can you acquaint me with the abode of my friend?" "Alas! no," replied the sick man; " I thought of asking you the same question, but somehow it escaped my memory. I should like to see him before I die. If the world has not spoiled him utterly if the man be not far different from the boy-young Sinclair is the creature above all others, in whose arms I should like to breathe out my soul. What a sweet spirit was that boy'show gentle, how quiet, yet how brave!" Delaval was silent, and I went my way. I could not speak, for my heart was full. I was constrained to pass through the shop, or I would fain have avoided its locality. The bookseller impeded my progress to ask me whether I would purchase the Arcadia, with Lord Brooke's autograph, and a MS. note by Ben. Jonson, which he (the bibliopole) had discovered, i.e. forged, whilst I was talking with his lodger." "Yes; certainly-by all means-I am in a hurry; send them home, and be d-d to you." The bookseller stared; and I rushed into the street. I made my way to my uncle's house as fast as a pedestrian could go; for I hate those modern abominations, called hackney-coaches and cabs. Arrived at home, I ordered that the saddlehorses should immediately be held in readiness, whilst I ascended to my chamber for the purpose of arranging my toilet. My mind was distracted between hope and memory; I knew not whether to look forward to my coming meeting with Margaret de Laurier, or retrospectively to my interview with Delaval. However, by the time that I had ridden to * * * street, I had come to the wise determination of dismissing the usher from my thoughts entirely for the next two hours. My visit to the De Lauriers was a very agreeable one; but as the Signor was present during the whole time of my sojourn, the conversation was of a desultory nature, and scarcely worth recording in these pages. But, nevertheless, I quitted the house abominably in love with Margaret, and if I made no impression upon her, it was not for want of trying. |