THE LIBRARY 
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 Walter 0. Schneider
 
 COLLECTED EDITION 
 
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 THE EIGHT HONOKABLE 
 B. DISEAELI. 
 
 VOL. L LOTHAIR.
 
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 EDINBURGH AND LONDON
 
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 LOTHAIR. 
 
 RIGHT HONORABLE B. DISRAELI 
 
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 NEW EDITION, 
 
 LONDON : 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CG. 
 
 1879. 
 
 All righti reterved.
 
 College 
 Library 
 
 T 
 
 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS 
 
 THE DUKE OF AUMALE 
 
 WITH 
 
 RESPECT AND AFFECTION. 
 
 1116970
 
 GENEKAL PREFACE. 
 
 AJ* AMERICAN GENTLEMAN, with more than courtesy, 
 has forwarded to me a vast number of notices of 
 LOTHAIR which have appeared in the leading journals 
 of his country. He tells me that, irrespective of literary 
 ' organs,' there are in the Union five thousand news- 
 papers, and it is not impossible that some notice of 
 ' Lothair ' might appear in each of these. However 
 various may be the opinions of those which I thus 
 possess, they appear to me generally to be sincere, and 
 in point of literary ability ; taste, style, and critical 
 acumen ; I think they need not fear competition with 
 the similar productions of our own land. 
 
 My English publishers also have made a collection of 
 the notices of this work in our own country, and though 
 we have not yet five thousand newspapers, the aggre- 
 gate of articles is in amount perhaps unprecedented. 
 I have nothing to complain of in their remarks. 
 One could hardly expect at home the judicial impar- 
 tiality of a foreign land. Personal influences inevit- 
 ably mingle in some degree with such productions. 
 There are critics who, abstractedly, do not approve of 
 successful books, particularly if they have failed in the
 
 VUl GENERAL PREFACE. 
 
 same style ; social acquaintances also of lettered taste, 
 and especially cotemporaries whose public life has 
 not exactly realised the vain dreams of their fussy 
 existence, would seize the accustomed opportunity of 
 welcoming with affected discrimination about nothing, 
 and elaborate controversy about trifles, the production 
 of a friend ; and there is always, both in politics and 
 literature, the nace of the Dennises, the Oldmixons, 
 and Curls, who flatter themselves that, by systematically 
 libelling some eminent personage of their times, they 
 have a chance of descending to posterity. 
 
 A distinguished individual has suggested that, in a 
 preface to this edition of my collected works, I might 
 give my own views of the purport of ' Lothair.' It 
 strikes me, with all deference, that it would be not a 
 little presumptuous for an author thus to be the self- 
 critic of volumes which appeared only a few months ago. 
 Their purport to the writer seems clear enough, and 
 as they have been more extensively read both by the 
 people of the United Kingdom and the United States 
 than any work that has appeared for the last half cen- 
 tury, I will even venture to assume that on this point 
 they are of the same opinion as myself. 
 
 But on some other works, the youngest of which 
 were written a quarter of a century ago, it would per- 
 haps be in me not impertinent now to make a few 
 remarks. CONINGSBT, SYBIL, and TANCRED form a real 
 Trilogy ; that is to say, they treat of the same subject, 
 and endeavour to complete that treatment. The 
 origin and character of our political parties, their 
 influence on the condition of the people of this country, 
 some picture of the moral and physical condition of
 
 GENERAL PREFACE. IX 
 
 that people, and some intimation of the means by 
 which it might be elevated and improved, were themes 
 which had long engaged my meditation. 
 
 Born in a library, and trained from early childhood 
 by learned men who did not share the passions and the 
 prejudices of our political and social life, I had imbibed 
 on some subjects conclusions different from those which 
 generally prevail, and especially with reference to the 
 history of our own country. How an oligarchy had 
 been substituted for a kingdom, and a narrow-minded 
 and bigoted fanaticism flourished in the name of re- 
 ligious liberty, were problems long to me insoluble, 
 but which early interested me. But what most attracted 
 my musing, even as a boy, was the elements of our 
 political parties, and the strange mystification by which 
 that which was national in its constitution had become 
 odious, and that which was exclusive was presented as 
 popular. 
 
 What has mainly led to this confusion of public 
 thought and this uneasiness of society is our habitual 
 carelessness in not distinguishing between the excel- 
 lence of a principle and its injurious or obsolete appli- 
 cation. The feudal system may have worn out, but its 
 main principle, that the tenure of property should be 
 the fulfilment of duty, is the essence of good govern- 
 ment. The divine right of kings may have been a plea 
 for feeble tyrants, but the divine right of government is 
 the keystone of human progress, and without it govern- 
 ments sink into police, and a nation is degraded into a 
 mob. 
 
 National institutions were the ramparts of the multi- 
 tude against large estates exercising political power
 
 X GENERAL PEEFACE. 
 
 derived from a limited class. The Church was in theory, 
 and once it had been in practice, the spiritual and 
 intellectual trainer of the people. The privileges of the 
 multitude and the prerogatives of the Sovereign had 
 grown up together, and together they had waned. Under 
 the plea of liberalism, all the institutions which were 
 the bulwarks of the multitude had been sapped and 
 weakened, and nothing had been substituted for them. 
 The people were without education, and, relatively to 
 the advance of science and the comfort of the superior 
 classes, their condition had deteriorated, and their 
 physical quality as a race was threatened. Those who 
 in theory were the national party, and who sheltered 
 themselves under the institutions of the country 
 against the oligarchy, had, both by a misconception 
 and a neglect of their duties, become, and justly be- 
 come, odious ; while the oligarchy, who had mainly 
 founded themselves on the plunder of the popular 
 estate, either in the shape of the possessions of the 
 Church or the domains of the Crown, had by the 
 patronage of certain general principles which they 
 only meager ly applied, assumed, and to a certain degree 
 acquired, the character of a popular party. But no 
 party was national : one was exclusive and odious, and 
 the other liberal and cosmopolitan. 
 
 The perverse deviation of political parties from their 
 original significance may at first sight seem only a 
 subject of historical curiosity, but they assume a dif- 
 ferent character when they practically result in the 
 degradation of a people. 
 
 To change back the oligarchy into a generous aris- 
 tocracy round a real throne ; to infuse life and vigour
 
 GENERAL PREFACE. XI 
 
 into the Church, as the trainer of the nation, by the 
 revival of Convocation, then dumb, on a wide basis, 
 and not, as has been since done, in the shape of a 
 priestly section ; to establish a commercial code on 
 the principles successfully negotiated by Lord Boling- 
 broke at Utrecht, and which, though baffled at the 
 time by a Whig Parliament, were subsequently and 
 triumphantly vindicated by his political pupil and 
 heir, Mr. Pitt; to govern Ireland according to the 
 policy of Charles I. and not of Oliver Cromwell; to 
 emancipate the political constituency of 1832 from its 
 sectarian bondage and contracted sympathies ; to elevate 
 the physical as well as the moral condition of the people, 
 by establishing that labour required regulation as much 
 as property ; and all this rather by the use of ancient 
 forms and the restoration of the past than by political 
 revolutions founded on abstract ideas, appeared to be 
 the course which the circumstances of this country 
 required, and which, practically speaking, could only, 
 with all their faults and backslidings, be undertaken 
 and accomplished by a reconstructed TORT Party. 
 
 When I attempted to enter public life, I expressed 
 these views, long meditated, to my countrymen, but they 
 met with little encouragement. He who steps out of the 
 crowd is listened to with suspicion or with heedless- 
 ness : and forty years ago there prevailed a singular 
 ignorance of the political history of our country. I 
 had no connection either in the press or in public life. 
 f incurred the accustomed penalty of being looked on 
 as a visionary, and what I knew to be facts were treated 
 as paradoxes. 
 
 Ten years afterwards affairs had changed. I liad
 
 Xli GENERAL PREFACE. 
 
 been some time in Parliament and had friends who 
 had entered public life with myself, and who listened 
 always with interest and sometimes with sympathy to 
 views which I had never ceased to enforce. Living 
 much together, without combination we acted together. 
 Some of those who were then my companions have, like 
 myself, since taken some part in the conduct of public 
 affairs : two of them, and those who were not the least 
 interested in our speculations, have departed. One 
 was GEORGE SMYTHE, afterwards seventh Lord Strang- 
 ford, a man of brilliant gifts ; of dazzling wit, infinite 
 culture, and fascinating manners. His influence over 
 youth was remarkable, and he could promulgate a new 
 faith with graceful enthusiasm. HENRY HOPE, the 
 eldest son of the author of ' Anastasius,' was of a dif- 
 ferent nature, but he was learned and accomplished, 
 possessed a penetrating judgment and an inflexible 
 will. Master of a vast fortune, his house naturally 
 became our frequent rendezvous; and it was at the 
 DEEPDENE, that he first urged the expediency of my 
 treating in a literary form those views and subjects 
 which were the matter of our frequent conversation. 
 
 This was the origin of CONINGSBY OR THE NEW 
 GENERATION, which I commenced under his roof, and 
 which I inscribed to his name. 
 
 The derivation and character of political parties ; the 
 condition of the people which had been the consequence 
 of them ; the duties of the Church as a main remedial 
 agency in our present state ; were the three principal 
 topics which I intended to treat, but I found they were 
 too vast for the space I had allotted to myself. 
 
 These were all launched in * Coningsby,' but the
 
 GENERAL PREFACE. X1U 
 
 origin and condition of political parties, the first por 
 tion of the theme, was the only one completely handled 
 in that work. 
 
 Next year (1845), in SYBIL OR THE Two NATIONS, 
 I considered the condition of the people, and the whole 
 work, generally speaking, was devoted to that portion 
 of my scheme. At that time the Chartist agitation 
 was still fresh in the public memory, and its repetition 
 was far from improbable. I had mentioned to my 
 friend, the late THOMAS BUNCOMBE, and who was my 
 friend before I entered the House of Commons, some- 
 thing of what I was contemplating ; and he offered and 
 obtained for my perusal the whole of the correspond- 
 ence of Feargus O'Connor when conductor of the 
 'Northern Star,' with the leaders and chief actors of 
 the Chartist movement. I had visited and observed 
 with care all the localities introduced ; and as an accu- 
 rate and never exaggerated picture of a remarkable 
 period in our domestic history, and of a popular orga- 
 nisation which in its extent and completeness has 
 perhaps never been equalled, the pages of SYBIL may, 
 I venture to believe, be consulted with confidence. 
 
 In recognising the Church as a powerful agent in the 
 previous development of England, and possibly the 
 most efficient means of that renovation of the national 
 spirit which was desired, it seemed to me that the time 
 had arrived when it became my duty to ascend to the 
 origin of that great ecclesiastical corporation, and con- 
 sider the position of the descendants of that race who 
 had been the founders of Christianity. Some of the 
 great truths of ethnology were necessarily involved in 
 such discussions. Familiar as we all are now with such
 
 xiv GENERAL PREFACE. 
 
 themes, the house of Israel being now freed from the 
 barbarism of mediaeval misconception, and judged, like 
 all other races, by their contributions to the existing 
 sum of human welfare, and the general influence of 
 race on human action being universally recognised as 
 the key of history, the difficulty and hazard of touch- 
 ing for the first time on such topics cannot now be 
 easily appreciated. But public opinion recognised both 
 the truth and sincerity of these views, and, with its 
 sanction, in TANCRED OR THE NEW CRUSADE, the third 
 portion of the Trilogy, I completed their development. 
 
 It will be seen that the general spirit of these pro- 
 ductions ran counter to the views which had been long 
 prevalent in England, and which may be popularly, 
 though not altogether accurately, described as utili- 
 tarian. They recognised imagination in the government 
 of nations as a quality not less important than reason. 
 They trusted much to a popular sentiment, which 
 rested on an heroic tradition and was sustained by the 
 high spirit of a free aristocracy. Their economic prin- 
 ciples were not unsound, but they looked upon the 
 health and knowledge of the multitude as not the least 
 precious part of the wealth of nations. In asserting the 
 doctrine of race, they were entirely opposed to the 
 equality of man, and similar abstract dogmas, which 
 have destroyed ancient society without creating a satis- 
 factory substitute. Resting on popular sympathies and 
 popular privileges, they held that no society could be 
 durable unless it was built upon the principles of loyalty 
 and religious reverence. 
 
 The writer and those who acted with him looked, 
 then, upon the Anglican Church as a main machinery by
 
 GENERAL PREFACE. XV 
 
 which these results might be realised. There were 
 few great things left in England, and the Church was 
 one. Nor do I now doubt that if, a quarter of a century 
 ago, there had arisen a churchman equal to the occasion, 
 the position of ecclesiastical affairs in this country 
 would have been very different from that which they 
 now occupy. But these great matters fell into the 
 hands of monks and schoolmen ; and little more than a 
 year after the publication of CONINGSBY, the secession 
 of DR. NEWMAN dealt a blow to the Church of England 
 under which it still reels. That extraordinary event 
 has been ' apologised ' for, but has never been explained. 
 It was a mistake and a misfortune. The tradition ot 
 the Anglican Church was powerful. Eesting on the 
 Church of Jerusalem, modified by the divine school of 
 Galilee, it would have found that rock of truth which 
 Providence, by the instrumentality of the Semitic race, 
 had promised to St. Peter. Instead of that, the 
 seceders sought refuge in mediaeval superstitions, which 
 are generally only the embodiments of pagan cere- 
 monies and creeds. 
 
 It cannot be denied that the aspect of the world and 
 this country, to those who have faith in the spiritual 
 nature of man, is at this time dark and distressful. 
 They listen to doubts, and even denials, of an active 
 Providence ; what is styled Materialism is in the 
 ascendant. To those who believe that an atheistical 
 society, though it may be polished and amiable, in- 
 volves the seeds of anarchy, the prospect is full of 
 gloom. 
 
 This disturbance in the mind of nations has been 
 occasioned by two causes : first, by the powerful assault
 
 Xvi GENERAL PREFACE. 
 
 on the divinity of the Semitic literature by the Germans , 
 and, secondly, by recent discoveries of science, which 
 are hastily supposed to be inconsistent with our long- 
 received convictions as to the relations between the 
 Creator and the created. 
 
 One of the consequences of the Divine government 
 of this world, which has ordained that the sacred pur- 
 poses should be effected by the instrumentality of 
 various human races, must be occasionally a jealous 
 discontent with the revelation entrusted to a particular 
 family. But there is no reason to believe that the 
 Teutonic rebellion of this century against the Divine 
 truths entrusted to the Semites will ultimately meet 
 with more success than the Celtic insurrection of the 
 preceding age. Both have been sustained by the highest 
 intellectual gifts that human nature has ever displayed ; 
 but when the tumult subsides, the Divine truths are 
 found to be not less prevalent than before, and simply be- 
 cause they are divine. Man brings to the study of the 
 oracles more learning and more criticism than of yore : 
 and it is well that it should be so. The documents will 
 yet bear a greater amount both of erudition and exami- 
 nation than they have received ; but the word of God is 
 eternal, and will survive the spheres. 
 
 The sceptical effects of the discoveries of science, and 
 the uneasy feeling that they cannot co-exist with our old 
 religious convictions, have their origin in the circum- 
 stance, that the general body who have suddenly become 
 conscious of these physical truths are not so well ac- 
 quainted as is desirable with the past history of man. As- 
 tonished by their unprepared emergence from ignorance 
 to a certain degree of information, their amazed intelli-
 
 GENERAL PKEFACE. XVli 
 
 gence takes refuge in the theory of what is conveniently 
 called Progress, and every step in scientific discovery 
 seems further to remove them from the path of primaeval 
 inspiration. But there is no fallacy so flagrant as to 
 suppose that the modern ages have the peculiar privi- 
 lege of scientific discovery, or that they are distinguished 
 as the epochs of the most illustrious inventions. On the 
 contrary, scientific invention has always gone on simul- 
 taneously with the revelation of spiritual truths ; and 
 more, the greatest discoveries are not those of modern 
 ages. No one for a moment can pretend that printing 
 is so great a discovery as writing, or algebra as language. 
 What are the most brilliant of our chymical discoveries 
 compared with the invention of fire and the metals ? 
 It is a vulgar belief that our astronomical knowledge 
 dates only from the recent century when it was rescued 
 from the monks who imprisoned Galileo ; but Hippar- 
 chus, who lived before our Divine Master, and who 
 among other sublime achievements discovered the 
 precession of the equinoxes, ranks with the Newtons 
 and the Keplers ; and Copernicus, the modern father of 
 our celestial science, avows himself, in his famous work, 
 as only the champion of Pythagoras, whose system he 
 enforces and illustrates. Even the most modish schemes 
 of the day on the origin of things, which captivate 
 as much by their novelty as their truth, may find 
 their precursors in ancient sages, and after a careful 
 analysis of the blended elements of imagination and 
 induction which characterise the new theories, they 
 will be found mainly to rest on the atom of Epicurus 
 and the monad of Thales. Scientific like spiritual 
 truth has ever from the beginning been descending from
 
 XViil GENERAL PREFACE. 
 
 Heaven to man. He is a being who organically demands 
 direct relations with his Creator, and he would not have 
 been so organised if his requirements could not be 
 satisfied. We may analyse the sun and penetrate the 
 stars, but man is conscious that he is made in G-od'a 
 own image, and in his perplexity he will ever appeal to 
 our Father which art in Heaven. 
 
 I had been in Parliament seven years when this 
 Trilogy was published, and during that period I had 
 riot written anything; but in 1837, the year I entered 
 the House of Commons, I had published two works, 
 HENRIETTA TEMPLE and VENETIA. These are not politi- 
 cal works, but they would commemorate feelings more 
 enduring than public passions, and they were written 
 with care, and some delight. They were inscribed to 
 two friends, the best I ever had, and not the least gifted. 
 One was the inimitable D'ORSAY, the most accomplished 
 and the most engaging character that has figured in this 
 century, who, with the form and universal genius of an 
 Alcibiades, combined a brilliant wit and a heart of quick 
 affection, and who, placed in a public position, would 
 have displayed a courage, a judgment, and a command- 
 ing intelligence which would have ranked him with 
 the leaders of mankind. The other was one who had 
 enjoyed that public opportunity which had been denied 
 to COMTE D'ORSAY. The world has recognised the 
 political courage, the versatile ability, and the mascu- 
 line eloquence of LORD LYNDHURST ; but his intimates 
 only were acquainted with the tenderness of his dis- 
 position, the sweetness of his temper, his ripe scholar- 
 ship, and the playfulness of his bright and airy spirit. 
 
 And here I cannot refrain from mentioning that in
 
 GENERAL PREFACE. XIX 
 
 1837 I accompanied Lord Lyndhurst to Kensington 
 Palace, when, on the accession of the Queen, the peers 
 and privy councillors and chief personages of the 
 realm pledged their fealty to their new Sovereign. 
 He was greatly affected by the unusual scene : a 
 youthful maiden receiving the homage of her subjects, 
 most of them illustrious, in a palace in a garden, 
 and all with a sweet and natural dignity. He gave 
 me, as we drove home, an animated picture of what 
 had occurred in the Presence Chamber, marked by all 
 that penetrating observation, and happy terseness of 
 description, which distinguished him. Eight years 
 afterwards, with my memory still under the influence 
 of his effective narrative, I reproduced the scene in 
 SYBIL, and I feel sure it may be referred to for its 
 historical accuracy. 
 
 There was yet a barren interval of five years of my 
 life, so far as literature was concerned, between the 
 publication of ' Henrietta Temple,' and ' Venetia,' and 
 my earlier works. In 1832 I had published CONTARINI 
 FLEMING and ALROY. I had then returned from two 
 years of travel in the Mediterranean regions, and I 
 published ' Contarini Fleming ' anonymously, and in 
 the midst of a revolution. It was almost stillborn, 
 and having written it' with deep thought and feeling, 
 I was naturally discouraged from further effort. Yet 
 the youthful writer who may, like me, be inclined 
 to despair, may learn also from my example not to 
 be precipitate in his resolves. Gradually ' Contarini 
 Fleming ' found sympathising readers ; GOETHE and 
 BECKFORD were impelled to communicate their un- 
 solicited opinions of this work to its anonymous author,
 
 XX GENERAL PREFACE. 
 
 and I have seen a criticism on it by HEINE, of which 
 any writer might be justly proud. Yet all this does 
 not prevent me from being conscious that it would 
 have been better if a subject so essentially psycho- 
 logical had been treated at a more mature period of 
 life. 
 
 I had commenced * Alroy ' the year after my first 
 publication, and had thrown the manuscript aside. 
 Being at Jerusalem in the year 1831, and visiting the 
 traditionary tombs of the kings, my thoughts recurred 
 to the marvellous career which had attracted my boy- 
 hood, and I shortly after finished a work which I began 
 the year after I wrote VIVIAN GREY. 
 
 What my opinion was of that my first work, written 
 in 1826, was shown by my publishing my second anony- 
 mously. Books written by boys, which pretend to give 
 a picture of manners and to deal in knowledge of human 
 nature, must be affected. They can be, at the best, but 
 the results of imagination acting on knowledge not ac- 
 quired by experience. Of such circumstances exaggera- 
 tion is a necessary consequence, and fake taste accom- 
 panies exaggeration. Nor is it necessary to remark 
 that a total want of art must be observed in such 
 pages, for that is a failing incident to all first efforts. 
 ' Vivian Grey ' is essentially a puerile work, but it has 
 baffled even the efforts of its creator to suppress it. Its 
 fate has been strange ; and not the least remarkable 
 thing is, that forty-four years after its first publication, 
 I must ask the indulgence of the reader for its con- 
 tinued and inevitable re-appearance. 
 
 D. 
 
 MANOE : October 1870.
 
 LOTHAIE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ' I REMEMBER HIM a little boy,' said the Duchess, ' a pretty 
 little boy, but very shy. His mother brought him to us 
 one day. She was a dear friend of mine ; you know she 
 was one of my bridesmaids ? ' 
 
 ' And you have never seen him since, mamma ? ' en- 
 quired a married daughter, who looked like the younger 
 sister of her mother. 
 
 ' Never ; he was an orphan shortly after : I have often 
 reproached myself, but it is so difficult to see boys. Then, 
 he never went to school, but was brought up in the High- 
 lands with a rather savage uncle ; and if he and Bertram 
 had not become friends at Christchurch, I do not well see 
 how we ever could have known him.' 
 
 These remarks were made in the morning-room of 
 Brentham, where the mistress of the mansion sate sur- 
 rounded by her daughters, all occupied with various works. 
 One knitted a purse, another adorned a slipper, a third 
 emblazoned a page. Beautiful forms in counsel leant over 
 frames glowing with embroidery, while two fair sisters 
 more remote occasionally burst into melody, as they tried 
 the passages of a new air, which had been communicated 
 to them in the manuscript of some devoted friend. 
 p The Duchess, one of the greatest heiresses of Britain,
 
 2 LOTHAIR. 
 
 singularly beautiful and gifted with, native grace, had mar- 
 ried in her teens one of the wealthiest and most powerful 
 of our nobles, and scarcely older than herself. Her hus- 
 band was as distinguished for his appearance and his 
 manners as his bride, and those who speculate on race 
 were interested in watching the development of their pro- 
 geny, who in form, and colour, and voice, and manner, and 
 mind were a reproduction of their parents, who seemed 
 only the elder brother and sister of a gifted circle. The 
 daughters with one exception came first, and all met the 
 same fate. After seventeen years of a delicious home they 
 were presented, and immediately married ; and all to per- 
 sonages of high consideration. After the first conquest, 
 this fate seemed as regular as the order of nature. Then 
 came a son, who was now at Christchurch, and then 
 several others, some at school, and some scarcely out of the 
 nursery. There was one daughter unmarried, and she 
 was to be presented next season. Though the family like- 
 ness was still apparent in Lady Corisande, in general ex- 
 pression she differed from her sisters. They were all alike 
 with their delicate aquiline noses, bright complexions, short 
 upper lips, and eyes of sunny light. The beauty of Lady 
 Corisande was even more distinguished and more regular, 
 but whether it were the effect of her dark-brown hair or 
 darker eyes, her countenance had not the lustre of the rest, 
 and its expression was grave and perhaps pensive. 
 
 The Duke, though still young, and naturally of a gay and 
 joyous temperament, had a high sense of duty, and strong 
 domestic feelings. He was never wanting in his public 
 place, and he was fond of his wife and his children ; still 
 more proud of them. Every day when he looked into the 
 glass, and gave the last touch to his consummate toilette, 
 he offered his grateful thanks to Providence that his family 
 was not unworthy of him. 
 
 His Grace was accustomed ix> say that he had only one
 
 LOTHAIR. 3 
 
 misfortune, and it was a great one ; he had no home. His 
 family had married so many heiresses, and he, conse- 
 quently, possessed so many halls and castles, at all of 
 which, periodically, he wished, from a right feeling, to 
 reside, that there was no sacred spot identified with his life 
 in which his heart, in the bustle and tumult of existence, 
 could take refuge. Brentham was the original seat of his 
 family, and he was even passionately fond of it ; but it was 
 remarkable how very short a period of his yearly life was 
 passed under its stately roof. So it was his custom always 
 to repair to Brentham the moment the season was over, and 
 he would exact from his children, that, however short 
 might be the time, they would be his companions under 
 those circumstances. The daughters loved Brentham, and 
 they loved to please their father ; but the sons-in-law, 
 though they were what is called devoted to their wives, 
 and, unusual as it may seem, scarcely less attached to their 
 legal parents, did not fall very easily into this arrangement. 
 The country in August without sport was unquestionably 
 to them a severe trial : nevertheless, they rarely omitted 
 making their appearance, and if they did occasionally 
 vanish, sometimes to Cowes, sometimes to Switzerland, 
 sometimes to Norway, they always wrote to their wives, 
 and always alluded to their immediate or approaching re- 
 turn ; and their letters gracefully contributed to the fund 
 of domestic amusement. 
 
 And yet it would be difficult to find a fairer scene than 
 Brentham offered, especially in the lustrous effulgence of a 
 glorious English summer. It was an Italian palace of free- 
 stone ; vast, ornate, and in scrupulous condition ; its spacious 
 and graceful chambers filled with treasures of art, and 
 rising itself from statued and stately terraces. At their foot 
 spread a gardened domain of considerable extent, bright 
 with flowers, dim with coverts of rare shrubs, and musical 
 with fountains. Its limit reached a park, with timber such
 
 4 LOTHAIR. 
 
 as tlie midland counties only can produce. The fallow 
 deer trooped among its ferny solitudes and gigantic oaks ; 
 but beyond the waters of the broad and winding lake the 
 scene became more savage, and the eye caught the dark 
 form of the red deer on some jutting mount, shrinking 
 with scorn from communion with his gentler brethren. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 LOTHAIE was the little boy whom the Duchess remembered. 
 He was a posthumous child, and soon lost a devoted mother. 
 His only relation was one of his two guardians, a Scotch 
 noble, a Presbyterian and a Whig. This uncle was a 
 xcidower with some children, but they were girls, and, 
 though Lothair was attached to them, too young to be his 
 companions. Their father was a keen, hard man, honour- 
 able and just, but with no softness of heart or manner. 
 He guarded with precise knowledge and with unceasing 
 vigilance Lothair's vast inheritance, which was in many 
 counties and in more than one kingdom ; but he educated 
 him in a Highland home, and when he had reached boy- 
 hood thought fit to send him to the High School of Edin- 
 burgh. Lothair passed a monotonous if not a dull life ; 
 but he found occasional solace in the scenes of a wild and 
 beautiful nature, and delight in all the sports of the field 
 and forest, in which he was early initiated and completely 
 indulged. Although an Englishman, he was fifteen before 
 he revisited his country, and then his glimpses of England 
 were brief, and to him scarcely satisfactory. He was 
 hurried sometimes to vast domains, which he heard were 
 his own ; and sometimes whisked to the huge metropolis, 
 where he was shown St. Paul's and the British Museum. 
 These visits left a vague impression of bustle without
 
 LOTHAIR. 5 
 
 kindness, and exhaustion without excitement ; and he was 
 glad to get back to his glens, to the moor and the mountain - 
 stream. 
 
 His father, in the selection of his guardians, had not 
 contemplated this system of education. While he secured, 
 by the appointment of his brother-in-law, the most com- 
 petent and trustworthy steward of his son's fortune, he 
 had depended on another for that influence which should 
 mould the character, guide the opinions, and form the tastes 
 of his child. The other guardian was a clergyman, his 
 father's private tutor and heart-friend ; scarcely his parent's 
 senior, but exercising over him irresistible influence, for he 
 was a man of shining talents and abounding knowledge, 
 brilliant and profound. But unhappily, shortly after Lo- 
 thair became an orphan, this distinguished man seceded 
 from the Anglican communion, and entered the Church of 
 Rome. From this moment there was war between the 
 guardians. The uncle endeavoured to drive his colleague 
 from the trust : in this he failed, for the priest would not 
 renounce his office. The Scotch noble succeeded, however, in 
 making it a fruitless one : he thwarted every suggestion 
 that emanated from the obnoxious quarter; and indeed 
 the secret reason of the almost constant residence of Lo- 
 thair in Scotland, and of his harsh education, was the fear 
 of his relative, that the moment he crossed the border he 
 might, by some mysterious process, fall under the influence 
 that his guardian so much dreaded and detested. 
 
 There was, however, a limit to these severe precautions 
 oven before Lothair should reach his majority. His father 
 bad expressed in his will that his son should be educated 
 at the University of Oxford, and at the same college of 
 which he had been a member. His uncle was of opinion he 
 complied with the spirit of this instruction by sending 
 Lothair to the University of Edinburgh, which would give 
 the last tonic to his moral system ; and then commenced a
 
 6 LOTHAIB. 
 
 celebrated chancery suit, instituted by the Roman Catholic 
 guardian, in order to enforce a literal compliance with the 
 educational condition of the will. The uncle looked upon 
 tliis movement as a Popish plot, and had recourse to every 
 available allegation and argument to baffle it, but ulti- 
 mately in vain. With every precaution to secure his Pro- 
 testant principles, and to guard against the influence, or 
 even personal interference, of his Roman Catholic guardian, 
 the Lord Chancellor decided that Lothair should be sent to 
 Christchurch. 
 
 Here Lothair, who had never been favoured with a com- 
 panion of his own age and station, soon found a congenial 
 one in the heir of Brentham. Inseparable in pastime, not 
 dissociated even in study, sympathising companionship soon 
 ripened into fervent friendship. They lived so much to- 
 gether that the idea of separation became not only painful 
 bat impossible ; and, when vacation arrived, and Brentham 
 was to be visited by its future lord, what more natural than 
 that it should be arranged that Lothair should be a visitor 
 to his domain ? 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ALTHOUGH Lothair was the possessor of as many palaces 
 and castles as the Duke himself, it is curious that his first 
 dinner at Brentham was almost his introduction into refined 
 society. He had been a guest at the occasional banquets 
 of his uncle, but these were festivals of the Picts and 
 Scots ; rude plenty and coarse splendour, with noise instead 
 of conversation, and a tumult of obstructive dependants, 
 who impeded, by their want of skill, the very convenience 
 which they were purposed to facilitate. How different the 
 8'orrounding scene ! A table covered with flowers, bright
 
 LOTHATB. 7 
 
 with fanciful crystal, and porcelain that had belonged to 
 sovereigns, who had given a name to its colour or its form. 
 As for those present, all seemed grace and gentleness, from 
 the radiant daughters of the house to the noiseless attend- 
 ants that anticipated all his wants, and sometimes seemed 
 to suggest his wishes. 
 
 Lothair sat between two of the married daughters. 
 They addressed him with so much sympathy that he was 
 quite enchanted. When they asked their pretty questions 
 and made their sparkling remarks, roses seemed to drop 
 from their lips, and sometimes diamonds. It was a rather 
 large party, for the Brentham family were so numerous that 
 they themselves made a festival. Thera were four married 
 daughters, the Duke and two sons-in-law, a clergyman or 
 two, and some ladies and gentlemen who were seldom 
 absent from this circle, and who, by their useful talents 
 and various accomplishments, alleviated the toil or cares of 
 life from which even princes are not exempt. 
 
 When the ladies had retired to the Duchess's drawing- 
 room, all the married daughters clustered round their 
 mother. 
 
 ' Do you know, mamma, we all think him very good- 
 looking,' said the youngest married daughter, the wife of 
 the listless and handsome St. Aldegonde. 
 
 ' And not at all shy,' said Lady Montairy, ' though re- 
 served.' 
 
 'I admire deep blue eyes with dark lashes,' said the 
 Duchess. 
 
 Notwithstanding the decision of Lady Montairy, Lothair 
 was scarcely free from embarrassment when he rejoined 
 the ladies ; and was so afraid of standing alone, or talking 
 only to men, that he was almost on the point of finding 
 refuge in his dinner companions, had not he instinctively 
 felt that this would have been a social blunder. But the 
 Duchess relieved him : her gracious glance caught his at
 
 8 LOTHATR. 
 
 the right moment, and she rose and met him some way as 
 he advanced. The friends had arrived so late, that Lothair 
 had had only time to make a reverence of ceremony before 
 dinner. 
 
 ' It is not our first meeting,' said her Grace ; ' but that 
 you cannot remember.' 
 
 ' Indeed I do,' said Lothair, ' and your Grace gave me a 
 golden heart.' 
 
 ' How can you remember such things,' exclaimed the 
 Duchess, ' which I had myself forgotten ! ' 
 
 ' I have rather a good memory,' replied Lothair ; ' and it 
 is not wonderful that I should remember this, for it is the 
 only present that ever was made me.' 
 
 The evenings at Brentham were short, but they were 
 sweet. It was a musical family, without being fanatical 
 on the subject. There was always music, but it was not 
 permitted that the guests should be deprived of other 
 amusements. But music was the basis of the evening's 
 campaign. The Duke himself sometimes took a second ; 
 the four married daughters warbled sweetly ; but the great 
 performer was Lady Corisande. When her impassioned 
 tones sounded, there was a hushed silence in every cham- 
 ber ; otherwise, many things were said and done amid 
 accompanying melodies that animated without distracting 
 even a whistplayer. The Duke himself rather preferred a 
 game of piquet or ecarte with Captain Mildinay, and some- 
 times retired with a troop to a distant but still visible 
 apartment, where they played with billiard balls games 
 which were not billiards. 
 
 The ladies had retired, the Duke had taken his glass of 
 seltzer water, and had disappeared. The gentlemen lingered 
 and looked at each other, as if they were an assembly of 
 poachers gathering for an expedition, and then Lord St. 
 Aldegonde, tall, fair, a^d languid, said to Lothair, ' Do yon 
 smoke ? '
 
 LOTHAIE. 9 
 
 'No!' 
 
 ' I should have thought Bertram would have seduced 
 you by this time. Then let us try. Montairy will give 
 you one of his cigarettes, so mild that his wife never finds 
 him out.' 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE breakfast, room at Brentham was very bright. It 
 opened on a garden of its own, which, at this season, was 
 so glowing, and cultured into patterns so fanciful and 
 finished, that it had the resemblance of a vast mosaic. 
 The walls of the chamber were covered with bright draw- 
 ings and sketches of our modern masters, and frames of 
 interesting miniatures, and the meal was served on half-a- 
 dozen or more round tables, which vied with each other in 
 grace and merriment ; brilliant as a cluster of Greek or 
 Italian republics, instead of a great metropolitan table, like 
 a central government absorbing all the genius and re- 
 sources of the society. 
 
 Every scene in this life at Brentham charmed Lothair, 
 who, though not conscious of being of a particularly 
 gloomy temper, often felt that he had, somehow or other, 
 hitherto passed through life rarely with pleasure, and 
 never with joy. 
 
 After breakfast the ladies retired to their morning-room, 
 and the gentlemen strolled to the stables, Lord St. Alde- 
 gonde lighting a Manilla cheroot of enormous length. As 
 Lothair was very fond of horses, this delighted him. The 
 stables at Brentham were rather too far from the house, 
 but they were magnificent, and the stud worthy of them. 
 It was numerous and choice, and, above all, it was useful. 
 It could supply a readier number of capital riding horses 
 than any stable in England. Brentham was a great riding
 
 10 LOTHAIR. 
 
 family. lu the summer season the Duke delighted to head 
 a numerous troop, penetrate far into the country, and 
 scamper home to a nine o'clock dinner. All the ladies of 
 the house were fond and fine horsewomen. The mount of 
 one of these riding parties was magical. The dames and 
 damsels vaulted on their barbs, and genets, and thorough- 
 bred hacks, with such airy majesty ; they were absolutely 
 overwhelming with their bewildering habits and their be- 
 witching hats. 
 
 Everything was so new in this life at Brentham to 
 Lothair, as well as so agreeable, that the first days passed 
 by no means rapidly ; for, though it sounds strange, time 
 moves with equal slowness whether we experience many 
 impressions or none. In a new circle every character is 
 a study, and every incident an adventure ; and the multi- 
 plicity of the images and emotions restrains the hours. 
 But after a few days, though Lothair was not less de- 
 lighted, for he was more so, he was astonished at the 
 rapidity of time. The life was exactly the same, but 
 equally pleasant ; the same charming companions, the same 
 refined festivity, the same fascinating amusements ; but to 
 his dismay Lothair recollected that nearly a fortnight had 
 elapsed since his arrival. Lord St. Aldegonde also was 
 on the wing ; he was obliged to go to Cowes to see a sick 
 friend, though he considerately left Bertha behind liim. 
 The other son-in-law remained, for he could not tear himself 
 away from his wife. He was so distractedly fond of Lady 
 Montairy that he would only smoke cigarettes. Lothair 
 felt it was time to go, and he broke the circumstance to 
 his friend Bertram. 
 
 These two ' old fellows,' as they mutually described each 
 other, could not at all agree as to the course to be pursued. 
 Bertram looked upon Lothair's suggestion as an act of 
 desertion from himself. At their time of life, the claims of 
 friendship are paramount. And where could Lothair go
 
 LOTHAIR. 11 
 
 to ? And what was there to do ? Nowhere, and nothing. 
 Whereas, if he would remain a little longer, as the Duke 
 expected and also the Duchess, Bertram would go with 
 him anywhere he liked, and do anything he chose. So 
 Lothair remained. 
 
 In the evening, seated by Lady Montairy, Lothair ob- 
 served on her sister's singing, and said, ' I never heard any 
 of our great singers, but I cannot believe there is a finer 
 voice in existence.' 
 
 4 Corisande's is a fine voice,' said Lady Montairy, ' but 1 
 admire her expression more than her tone ; for there are 
 certainly many finer voices, and some day you will hear 
 them.' 
 
 4 But 1 prefer expression,' said Lothair very decidedly. 
 
 4 Ah, yes ! doubtless,' said Lady Montairy, who was 
 working a purse, ' and that is what we all want, I believe ; 
 at least we married daughters, they say. My brother, 
 Granville St. Aldegonde, says we are all too much alike, 
 and that Bertha St. Aldegonde would be perfect if she had 
 no sisters.' 
 
 ' I do not at all agree with Lord St. Aldegonde,' said 
 Lothair with energy. ' I do not think it is possible to 
 have too many relatives like you and your sisters.' 
 
 Lady Montairy looked up with a smile, but she did not 
 meet a smiling countenance. He seemed what is called 
 an earnest young man, this friend of her brother Bertram. 
 
 At this moment the Duke sent swift messengers for all 
 to come, even the Duchess, to partake in a new game 
 just arrived from Russia, some miraculous combination 
 of billiard-balls. Some rose directly, some lingering a 
 moment arranging their work, but all were in motion. 
 Corisande was at the piano, and disencumbering her- 
 self of some music. Lothair went up to her rather 
 abruptly : 
 
 ' Your singing,' he said, ' is the finest thing I ever heard.
 
 12 LOTHAIR. 
 
 I am so happy that I am not going to leave Brentham to- 
 morrow. There is no place in the world that I think equal 
 to Brentham.' 
 
 ' And I love it too, and no other place,' she replied ; 
 ' and I should be quite happy if I never left it.' 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 LORD MONTAIRY was passionately devoted to croquet. He 
 flattered himself that he was the most accomplished male 
 performer existing. He would have thought absolutely 
 the most accomplished, were it not for the unrivalled feats 
 of Lady Montairy. She was the queen of croquet. Her 
 sisters also used the mallet with admirable skill, but not 
 like Victoria. Lord Montairy always looked forward to 
 his summer croquet at Brentham. It was a great croquet 
 family, the Brentham family ; even listless Lord St. Alde- 
 gonde would sometimes play, with a cigar never out of his 
 mouth. They did not object to his smoking in the air. 
 On the contrary, ' they rather liked it.' Captain Mildmay, 
 too, was a brilliant hand, and had written a treatise on 
 croquet, the best going. 
 
 There was a great croquet party one morning at Brent- 
 ham. Some neighbours had been invited who loved the 
 sport. Mr. Blenkinsop, a grave young gentleman, whose 
 countenance never relaxed while he played, and who was 
 understood to give his mind entirely up to croquet. He 
 was the owner of the largest estate in the county, and it 
 was thought would very willingly have allied himself with 
 one of the young ladies of the House of Brentham; but 
 these flowers were always plucked so quickly, that his 
 relations with the distinguished circle never grew more 
 intimate than croquet. He drove over with some fine
 
 LOTH ATR. 13 
 
 torses and several cases and bags containing instruments 
 and weapons for the fray. His sister eame with him, who 
 had forty thousand pounds, but, they said, in some myste- 
 rious manner dependent on his consent to her marriage ; 
 and it was added that Mr. Blenkinsop would not allow his 
 sister to marry because he would miss her so much in his 
 favourite pastime. There were some other morning visitors, 
 and one or two young curates in cassocks. 
 
 It seemed to Lothair a game of great deliberation and of 
 more interest than gaiety, though sometimes a cordial 
 cheer, and sometimes a ringing laugh of amiable derision, 
 notified a signal triumph or a disastrous failure. But the 
 scene was brilliant : a marvellous lawn, the Duchess's 
 Turkish tent with its rich hangings, and the players them- 
 selves, the prettiest of all the spectacle, with their coquet- 
 tish hats, and their half-veiled and half-revealed under- 
 raiment, scarlet and silver, or blue and gold, made up a 
 sparkling and modish scene. 
 
 Lothair, who had left the players for awhile and was 
 regaining the lawn, met the Duchess. 
 
 ' Your Grace is not going to leave us, I hope ? ' he said, 
 rather anxiously. 
 
 ' For a moment. I have long promised to visit the new 
 dairy ; and I think this a good opportunity.' 
 
 ' Might I be your companion ? ' said Lothair. 
 
 They turned into a winding walk of thick and fragrant 
 shrubs, and, after a while, they approached a dell, sur- 
 rounded with high trees that enveloped it with perpetual 
 shade ; in the centre of the dell was apparently a Gothic 
 shrine, fair in design and finished in execution, and this 
 was the Duchess's new dairy. A pretty sight is a first- 
 rate dairy, with its flooring of fanciful tiles, and its cool 
 and shrouded chambers, its stained windows and its 
 marble slabs, and porcelain pans of cream, and plenteous 
 platters of fantastically formed butter.
 
 14 LOTHA1K. 
 
 ' Mrs. Woods and her dairymaids look like a Dutch 
 picture,' said the Duchess. ' Were you ever in Holland ? ' 
 
 ' I have never been anywhere,' said Lothair. 
 
 1 You should travel,' said the Duchess. 
 
 ' I have no wish,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' The Duke has given me some Coreean fowls,' said the 
 Duchess to Mrs. Woods, when they had concluded their 
 visit. ' Do you think you could take care of them for me ?' 
 
 ' Well, Grace, I am sure I will do my best ; but then 
 they are very troublesome, and I was not fortunate with 
 my Cochin. I had rather they were sent to the aviary, 
 Grace, if it were all the same.' 
 
 ' I should like to see the aviary,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Well, we will go.' 
 
 And this rather extended their walk, and withdrew them 
 more from the amusement of the day. 
 
 ' I wish you would do me a great favour,' said Lothair, 
 abruptly breaking a rather prolonged silence. 
 
 ' And what is that ? ' said the Duchess. 
 
 * It is a very great favour,' repeated Lothair. 
 
 ' If it be in my power to grant it, its magnitude would 
 only be an additional recommendation.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Lothair, blushing deeply, and speaking with 
 much agitation, ' I would ask your Grace's permission to 
 offer my hand to your daughter.' 
 
 The Duchess looked amazed. ' Corisande ! ' she ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 'Yes, to Lady Corisande. 
 
 ' Corisande,' replied the Duchess, after a pause, ' has 
 absolutely not yet entered the world. Corisande is a 
 child; and you, you, my dear friend; I am sure you will 
 pardon me if I say so, you are not very much older than 
 Corisande,' 
 
 ' I have no wish to enter tLe world,' said Lothair, with 
 much decision.
 
 LOTHAIR. 15 
 
 'I am not an enemy to youthful marriages,' said the 
 Duchess. ' I married early myself, and my children mar- 
 ried early ; and I am very happy, and I hope they are ; 
 but some experience of society before we settle is most 
 desirable, and is one of the conditions I cannot but be- 
 lieve of that felicity which we all seek.' 
 
 ' I hate society,' said Lothair. ' I would never go out of 
 my domestic circle if it were the circle I contemplate.' 
 
 ' My dear young friend,' said the Duchess, ' you could 
 hardly have seen enough of society to speak with so much 
 decision.' 
 
 ' I have seen quite enough of it,' said Lothair. ' I went 
 to an evening party last season ; I came up from Christ- 
 church on purpose for it, and if ever they catch me at 
 another, they shall inflict any penalty they please.' 
 
 ' I fear it was a stupid party,' said the Duchess, smiling, 
 and glad to turn, if possible, the conversation into a lighter 
 vein. 
 
 ' No, it was a very grand party, I believe, and not 
 exactly stupid ; it was not that ; but I was disgusted with 
 all I saw and all I heard. It seemed to me a mass of affec- 
 tation, falsehood, and malice.' 
 
 ' Oh ! dear,' said the Duchess, ' how very dreadful ! But 
 I did not mean merely going to parties for society ; I 
 meant knowledge of the world, and that experience which 
 enables us to form sound opinions on the affairs of life.' 
 
 ' Oh ! as for that,' said Lothair, ' my opinions are already 
 formed on every subject ; that is to say, every subject of 
 importance ; and, what is more, they will never change.' 
 
 ' I could not say that of Corisande,' said the Duchess. 
 
 ' I think wo agree on all the great things,' said Lothair, 
 musingly. 'Her Church views may be a little higher than 
 mine, but I do not anticipate any permanent difficulty on 
 that head. Although my uncle made me go to kirk, I 
 always hated it, and always considered myself a church-
 
 16 LOTHAIE. 
 
 man. Then, as to churches themselves, she is in favour of 
 building churches, and so am I ; and schools, there is no 
 number of schools I would not establish. My opinion is, 
 you cannot have too much education, provided it be founded 
 on a peligious basis. I would sooner renounce the whole 
 of my inheritance than consent to secular education.' 
 
 ' I should be sorry to see any education but a religious 
 education,' remarked the Duchess. 
 
 ' Well, then,' said Lothair, ' that is our life, or a great 
 part of it. To complete it, there is that to which I really 
 wish to devote my existence, and in which I instinctively 
 feel Lady Corisande would sympathise with me, the ex- 
 tinction of pauperism.' 
 
 ' That is a vast subject,' said the Duchess. 
 
 ' It is the terror of Europe, and the disgrace of Britain,' 
 said Lothair ; ' and I am resolved to grapple with it. It 
 seems to me that pauperism is not an affair so much of 
 wages as of dwellings. If the working classes were pro- 
 perly lodged, at their present rate of wages, they would be 
 richer. They would be healthier and happier at the same 
 cost. I am so convinced of this, that the moment I am 
 master I shall build 2,000 cottages on my estates. I have 
 the designs all ready.' 
 
 ' I am much in favour of improved dwellings for the 
 poor,' said the Duchess ; ' but then you must take care that 
 your dwellings are cottages, and not villas like my cousin's, 
 the Duke of Luton.' 
 
 'I do not think I shall make that mistake,' replied 
 Lothair. ' It constantly engages my thought. I am 
 wearied of hearing of my wealth, and I am conscious it 
 has never brought me any happiness. I have lived a great 
 deal alone, dearest Duchess, and thought much of these 
 things, but I feel now I should be hardly equal to the 
 effort, unless I had a happy home to fall back upon.' 
 
 ' And you will have a happy home in due time,' said the
 
 LOTHAIR. 17 
 
 Duchess ; * and with such good and great thoughts you 
 deserve one. But take the advice of one who loved your 
 mother, and who would extend to you the same affection 
 as to her own children : before you take a step which can- 
 not be recalled, see a little more of the world.' 
 
 Lothair shook his head. 'No,' he said, after a pause. 
 ' My idea of perfect society is being married as I propose, 
 and paying visits to Brentham ; and when the visits to 
 Brentham ceased, then I should like you and the Duke to 
 pay visits to us.' 
 
 ' But that would be a fairy tale,' said the Duchess. 
 
 So they walked on in silence. 
 
 Suddenly and abruptly Lothair turned to the Duchess 
 and said, ' Does your Grace see any objection to my speak- 
 ing to your daughter ? ' 
 
 ' Dear friend, indeed yes. "What you would say would 
 only agitate and disturb Corisande. Her character is not 
 yet formed, and its future is perplexing, at least to me,' 
 murmured the mother. ' She has not the simple nature of 
 her sisters. It is a deeper and more complicated mind, and 
 I watch its development with fond but anxious interest.' 
 Then in a lighter tone she added, ' You do not know very 
 much of us. Try to know more. Everybody under this 
 roof views you with regard, and you are the brother friend 
 of our eldest son. Wherever we are, you will always find 
 a home ; but do not touch again upon this subject, at least 
 at present, for it distresses me.' And then she took his 
 arm and pressed it, and by this time they had gained the 
 croquet ground.
 
 18 LOTHAItt. 
 
 CHAPTER YL 
 
 ONE of the least known squares in London is Hexhara 
 Square, though it is one of the oldest. Not that it is very 
 remote from the throng of existence, but it is isolated in a 
 dingy district of silent and decaying streets. Once it was 
 a favoured residence of opulence and power, and its archi- 
 tecture still indicates its former and prouder destiny. But 
 its noble mansions are now divided and broken up into 
 separate dwellings, or have been converted into chambers 
 and offices. Lawyers, and architects, and agents dwell in 
 apartments where the richly-sculptured chimneypieces, the 
 carved and gilded pediments over the doors, and some- 
 times even the painted ceilings, tell a tale of vanished 
 stateliness and splendour. 
 
 A considerable portion of the north side of the square is 
 occupied by one house standing in a courtyard, with iron 
 gates to the thoroughfare. This is Hexham House, and 
 where Lord Hexham lived in the days of the first Georges 
 It is reduced in size since his time, two considerable winga 
 having been pulled down about sixty years ago, and their 
 materials employed in building some residences of less 
 pretension. But the body of the dwelling-house remains, 
 and the courtyard, though reduced in size, has been re- 
 tained. 
 
 Hexham House has an old oak entrance hall panelled 
 with delicacy, and which has escaped the rifling arts of 
 speculators in furniture ; and out of it rises a staircase of 
 the same material, of a noble character, adorned occasion- 
 ally with figures ; armorial animals holding shields, and 
 sometimes a grotesque form rising from fruits and flowers, 
 all doubtless the work of some famous carver. The stair- 
 case leads to a corridor, on which several doors open, and 
 through one of these, at the moment of our history, a man.
 
 LOTHAIK. 19 
 
 dressed in a dark cassock and holding a card in his hand, 
 was entering a spacious chamber, meagerly, but not shab- 
 bily, furnished. There was a rich cabinet and a fine picture. 
 In the next room, not less spacious, but which had a more 
 inhabited look, a cheerful fire, tables covered with books 
 and papers, and two individuals busily at work with their 
 pens, he gave the card to a gentleman who wore also the 
 cassock, and who stood before the fire with a book in his 
 hand, and apparently dictating to one of the writers. 
 
 ' Impossible ! ' said the gentleman, shaking his head ; 
 ' I could not even go in, as Monsignore Berwick is with bis 
 Eminence.' 
 
 ' But what shall I do ? ' said the attendant ; ' his 
 Eminence said that when Mr. Giles called he never was to 
 be denied.' 
 
 ' The Monsignore has been here a long time ; you must 
 beg Mr. Giles to wait. Make him comfortable ; give him 
 a newspaper ; not the "Tablet," the "Times;" men like 
 Mr. Giles love reading the advertisements. Or stop, give 
 him this, his Eminence's lecture on geology ; it will show 
 him the Church has no fear of science. Ah ! there 's my 
 bell, Mr. Giles will not have to wait long.' So saying, the 
 gentleman put down his volume and disappeared through 
 an antechamber into a further apartment. 
 
 It was a library, of moderate dimensions, and yet its 
 well-filled shelves contained all the weapons of learning 
 and controversy which the deepest and the most active of 
 ecclesiastical champions could require. It was unlike 
 modern libraries, for it was one in which folios greatly 
 predominated ; and they stood in solemn and sometimes 
 magnificent array, for they bore, many of them, on their 
 ancient though costly bindings the proofs that they nad 
 belonged to many a prince and even sovereign of the Church. 
 Over the mantelpiece hung a portrait of his Holiness. 
 
 c2
 
 20 LOTHAIR. 
 
 Pius IX., and on the table, in the midst of many papers, 
 was an ivory crucifix. 
 
 The master of the library had risen from his seat when 
 the chief secretary entered, and was receiving an obeisance. 
 Above the middle height, his stature seemed magnified by 
 the attenuation of his form. It seemed that the soul never 
 had so frail and fragile a tenement. He was dressed in a 
 dark cassock with a red border, and wore scarlet stockings ; 
 and over his cassock a purple tippet, and on his breast a 
 small golden cross. His countenance was naturally of an 
 extreme pallor, though at this moment slightly flushed 
 with the animation of a deeply interesting conference. His 
 cheeks were hollow, and his grey eyes seemed sunk into 
 his clear and noble brow, but they flashed with irresistible 
 penetration. Such was Cardinal Grandison. 
 
 'A.11 that I can do is,' said his Eminence, when his visitor 
 was ushered out, and slightly shrugging his shoulders, ' is 
 to get it postponed until I go to Rome, and even then I 
 must not delay my visit. This crossing the Alps in winter 
 is a trial ; but we must never repine, and there is nothing 
 which we must not encounter to prevent incalculable mis- 
 chief. The publi cation of the Scotch hierarchy at this 
 moment will destroy the labours of years. And yet they 
 will not see it ! I cannot conceive who is urging them, 
 for I am sure they must have some authority from home. 
 You have something for me, Chidiock,' he added, en- 
 quiringly, for his keen eye caught the card. 
 
 ' I regret to trouble your Eminence when you need 
 repose, but the bearer of this card seems to have been 
 importunate and to have appealed to your name and per- 
 sonal orders ; ' and he gave the Cardinal the card. 
 
 ' Yes,' said the Cardinal looking at the card with much 
 interest ; ' this is a person I must always see.' 
 
 And so in due course they ushered into the library a 
 gentleman with a crimson and well-stuffed bag, of a com-
 
 LOTHAIR. 21 
 
 posed yet cheerful aspect, who addressed the Cardinal with 
 respect but without embarrassment, saying, ' I am ashamed 
 to trouble your Eminence with only matters of form, abso- 
 lutely mere matters of form ; but I obey, sir, your own 
 instructions.' 
 
 ' It is not for me to depreciate form,' replied the Car- 
 dinal ; ' and in business there are no mere matters of form.' 
 
 ' Merely the wood accounts,' continued the visitor ; ' they 
 must be approved by both the guardians, or the money 
 cannot be received by the bankers. Tour Eminence, you 
 see, has sanctioned the felling, and authorized the sales, 
 and these are the final accounts, which must be signed 
 before we pay in.' 
 
 ' Give them to me,' said the Cardinal, stretching out 
 both his hands as he received a mass of paper folios. His 
 Eminence resumed his chair, and hastily examined the 
 sheets. ' Ah ! ' he said, ' no ordinary felling ; it reaches 
 over seven counties. By the bye, Bracewood Forest ; 
 what about the enclosure ? I have heard no more of it.' 
 Then, murmuring to himself, ' Grentham Wood ; how well 
 I remember Grentham Wood, with his dear father ! ' 
 
 ' If we could sign to-day,' said the visitor in a tone of 
 professional cajolery: ' time is important.' 
 
 'And it shall not be wasted,' replied the Cardinal. 'But 
 I must look over the accounts. I doubt not all is quite 
 regular, but I wish to make myself a little familiar with 
 the scene of action ; perhaps to recall the past,' he added. 
 ' You shall have them to-morrow, Mr. Giles.' 
 
 ' Your Eminence will have very different accounts to 
 settle in a short time,' said Mr. Giles, smiling. ' We are 
 hard at work ; it takes three of our clerks constantly 
 occupied.' 
 
 ' But you have yet got time.' 
 
 'I don't know that,' said Mr. Giles. 'The affairs are 
 very large. And the mines, they give us the greatest
 
 22 LOTHAIR 
 
 trouble. Our Mr. James Roundell was two months in 
 Wales last year about them. It took up the whole of his 
 vacation. And your Eminence must remember that time 
 flies. In less than eight months he will be of age.' 
 
 * Very true,' said the Cardinal ; ' time indeed flies, and 
 so much to be done ! By the byo, Mr. Giles, have you by 
 any chance heard anything lately of my child ? ' 
 
 * I have heard of him a good deal of late, for a client of 
 ours, Lord Montairy, met him at Brentham this summer, 
 and was a long time there with him. After that, I hear, 
 he went deer-stalking with some of his young friends ; but 
 he is not very fond of Scotland ; had rather too much of it, 
 I suspect ; but the truth is, sir, I saw him this very day.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' 
 
 ' Some affairs have brought him np to town, and I 
 rather doubt whether he will return to Oxford ; at least, 
 so he talks.' 
 
 ' Ah ! I have never seen him since he was an infant, I 
 might say,' said the Cardinal. ' I suppose I shall see him 
 again, if only when I resign my trust ; but I know not. 
 And yet few things would be more interesting to me than 
 to meet him ! ' 
 
 Mr. Giles seemed moved, for him almost a little embar- 
 rassed ; he seemed to blush, and then he cleared his throat. 
 ' It would be too great a liberty,' said Mr. Giles, ' I feel 
 that very much ; and yet, if your Eminence would con- 
 descend, though I hardly suppose it possible, his Lordship 
 is really going to do us the honour of dining with us to- 
 day ; only a few friends, and if your Eminence could make 
 the sacrifice, and it were not an act of too great presump- 
 tion to ask your Eminence to join our party.' 
 
 * I never eat and I never drink,' said the Cardinal. ' I 
 am sorry to say I cannot. I like dinner society very much. 
 You see the world, and you hear things which you do not 
 Lear otherwise. For a time I presumed to accept invita-
 
 LOTEAIR. 23 
 
 tions, though I sat with an empty plate ; but thougt the 
 world was indulgent to me, I felt that my habits were an 
 embarrassment to the happier feasters : it was not fair, and 
 so I gave it up. But I tell you what, Mr. Giles : I shall be 
 in your quarter this evening ; perhaps you would permit 
 me to drop in and pay my respects to Mrs. Giles : I have 
 wished to do so before.' 
 
 CHAPTER VTI. 
 
 MR. GILES was a leading partner in the firm of Roundells, 
 Giles, and Roundell, among the most eminent solicitors of 
 Lincoln's Inn. He, in these days of prolonged maturity, 
 might be described as still a young man. He had in- 
 herited from his father a large share in a first-rate business, 
 and no inconsiderable fortune ; and he had a wife, cele- 
 brated in her circle, but no children. He was opulent and 
 prosperous, with no cares and anxieties of his own, and 
 loved his profession, for which he was peculiarly qualified, 
 being a man of uncommon sagacity, very difficult to deceive, 
 and yet one who sympathised with his clients, who were 
 all personally attached to him, and many of whom wero 
 among the distinguished personages of the realm. 
 
 During an important professional visit to Ireland, Mr. 
 Giles had made the acquaintance of Miss Apollonia 
 Smylie, the niece of an Irish peer ; and though the lady 
 was much admired and courted, had succeeded, after a 
 time, in inducing her to become the partner of his life. 
 
 Mrs. Giles, or as she described herself Mrs. Putney Giles, 
 taking advantage of a second and territorial Christian 
 name of her husband, was a showy woman ; decidedly 
 handsome, unquestionably accomplished, and gifted with 
 energy and enthusiasm which far exceeded even her
 
 24 LOTHAIR. 
 
 physical advantages. Her principal mission was to de- 
 stroy the Papacy and to secure Italian unity. Her lesser 
 impulses were to become acquainted with the aristocracy, 
 and to be herself surrounded by celebrities. Having a fine 
 house in Tyburnia, almost as showy as herself, and a hus- 
 band who was never so happy as when gratifying her 
 wishes, she did not find it difficult in a considerable degree 
 to pursue and even accomplish her objects. The Putney 
 Giles gave a great many dinners, and Mrs. Putney received 
 her world frequently, if not periodically. As they entertained 
 with profusion, her well-lighted saloons were considerably 
 attended. These assemblies were never dull ; the materials 
 not being ordinary, often startling, sometimes even bril- 
 liant, occasionally rather heterogeneous. For though being 
 a violent Protestant and of extreme conservative opinions, 
 her antipapal antipathies and her Italian predilections fre- 
 quently involved her with acquaintances not so dis- 
 tinguished as she deemed herself for devotion to the cause 
 of order and orthodoxy. It was rumoured that the brood- 
 ing brow of Mazzini had been observed in her rooms, and 
 there was no sort of question that she had thrown herself 
 in ecstatic idolatry at the feet of the hero of Caprera. 
 
 On the morning of the day on which he intended to visit 
 Cardinal Grandison, Mr. Giles, in his chambers at Lincoln's 
 Inn, was suddenly apprised by a clerk, that an interview with 
 him was sought by a client no less distinguished thanLothair. 
 
 Although Mr. Giles sat opposite two rows of tin boxes, 
 each of which was numbered, and duly inscribed with the 
 name of Lothair and that of the particular estate to which 
 it referred, Mr. Giles, though he had had occasional com- 
 munications with his client, was personally unacquainted 
 with him. He viewed therefore with no ordinary curiosity 
 the young man who was ushered into his room ; a 
 shapely youth above the middle height, of simple but dis- 
 tinguished mien, with a countenance naturally pale, though
 
 LOTHAIR. 25 
 
 somewhat bronzed by a life of air and exercise, and a pro- 
 fusion of dark auburn hair. 
 
 And for what could Lothair be calling on Mr. Giles ? 
 
 It seems that one of Lothair' s intimate companions had 
 got into a scrape, and under these circumstances had what 
 is styled ' made a friend ' of Lothair ; that is to say, con- 
 fided to him his trouble, and asked his advice, with a view, 
 when given, of its being followed by an offer of assistance. 
 
 Lothair, though inexperienced and very ingenuous, was 
 not devoid of a certain instinctive perception of men and 
 things, which rendered it difficult for him to be an easy 
 prey. His natural disposition, and his comparatively soli- 
 tary education, had made him a keen observer, and he was 
 one who meditated over his observations. But he was 
 naturally generous and sensible of kindness ; and this was 
 a favourite companion, next to Bertram his most intimate. 
 
 Lothair was quite happy in the opportunity of soothing 
 a perturbed spirit whose society had been to him a source 
 of so much gratification. 
 
 It was not until Lothair had promised to extricate his 
 friend from his overwhelming difficulties, that, upon reflec- 
 tion and examination, he found the act on his part was not 
 so simple and so easy as he had assumed it to be. His 
 guardians had apportioned to him an allowance in every 
 sense adequate to his position ; and there was no doubt, 
 had he wished to exceed it for any legitimate purpose, not 
 the slightest difficulty on their part would have been 
 experienced. 
 
 Such a conjuncture had never occurred. Lothair was 
 profuse, but he was not prodigal. He gratified all his 
 fancies, but they were not ignoble ones ; and he was not 
 only sentimentally, but systematically, chai'itable. He had 
 a great number of fine horses, and he had just paid for an 
 expensive yacht. In a word, he spent a great deal of 
 money, and until he called at his bankers t*> learn what
 
 26 LOTHAIR. 
 
 sums were at his disposition he was not aware that he had 
 overdrawn his account. 
 
 This was rather awkward. Lothair wanted a consider- 
 able sum, and he wanted it at once. Irrespective of the 
 consequent delay, he shrunk from any communication with 
 his guardians. From his uncle he had become, almost in- 
 sensibly, estranged, and with his other guardian he had 
 never had the slightest communication. Under these cir- 
 cumstances he recalled the name of the solicitor of the 
 trustees, between whom and himself there had been occa- 
 sional correspondence ; and being of a somewhat impetuous 
 disposition, he rode off at once from his hotel to Lincoln's 
 Inn. 
 
 Mr. Giles listened to the narrative with unbroken in- 
 terest and unswerving patience, with his eyes fixed on his 
 client, and occasionally giving a sympathetic nod. 
 
 ' And so,' concluded Lothair, ' I thought I would come 
 to you.' 
 
 * We are honoured,' said Mr. Giles. ' And certainly it 
 is quite absurd that your Lordship should want money, and 
 for a worthy purpose, and not be able to command it. 
 Why ! the balance in the name of the trustees never was so 
 great as at this moment ; and this very day, or to-morrow 
 at furthest, I shall pay no less than eight-and-thirty 
 thousand pounds timber money to the account.' 
 
 'Well, I don't want a fifth of that,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Your Lordship has an objection to apply to the 
 trustees ? ' enquired Mr. Giles. 
 
 ' That is the point of the whole of my statement,' said 
 Lothair, somewhat impatiently. 
 
 'And yet it is the right and regular thing,' said Mr. 
 Giles. 
 
 * It may be right and it may be regular, but it is out of 
 the question.' 
 
 ' Then we will say no more about it. What I want to
 
 LOTHAIR. 27 
 
 prevent,' said Mr. Giles, musingly, 'is anything absurd 
 happening. There is no doubt if your Lordship went into 
 the street and said you wanted ten thousand pounds, or a 
 hundred thousand, fifty people would supply you immedi- 
 ately ; but you would have to pay for it. Some enormous 
 usury ! That would be bad ; but the absurdity of the 
 thing would be greater than the mischief. Roundells, 
 Giles, and Roundell could not help you in that manner. 
 That is not our business. We are glad to find money for 
 our clients at a legal rate of interest, and the most moderate 
 rate feasible. But then there must be security, and the 
 best security. But here we must not conceal it from our- 
 selves, my Lord, we have no security whatever. At this 
 moment your Lordship has no property. An insurance 
 office might do it with a policy. They might consider that 
 they had a moral security ; but still it would be absurd. 
 There is something absurd in your Lordship having to raise 
 money. Don't you think I could see these people,' said 
 Mr. Giles, ' and talk to them, and gain a little time. We 
 only want a little time.' 
 
 ' No,' said Lothair, in a peremptory tone. ' I said I 
 would do it, and it must be done, and at once. Sooner 
 than there should be delay, I would rather go into the 
 street, as you suggest, and ask the first man I met to lend 
 me the money. My word has been given, and I do not 
 care what I pay to fulfil my word.' 
 
 ' We must not think of such things,' said Mr. Giles, 
 shaking his head. ' All I want your Lordship to understand 
 is the exact position. In this case we have no security. 
 Roundells, Giles, and Roundell cannot move without 
 security. It would be against our articles of partnership. 
 But Mr. Giles, as a private individual, may do what he 
 likes. I will let your Lordship have the money, and I will 
 take no security whatever, not even a note of hand. All 
 that I will ask for is that your Lordship should write me a
 
 28 LOTHATB. 
 
 letter, saying you have urgent need for a sum of money 
 (mentioning amount) for an honourable purpose, in which 
 your feelings are deeply interested ; and that will do. If 
 anything happens to your Lordship before this time next 
 year, why, I think the trustees could hardly refuse repay, 
 ing the money ; and if they did, why then,' added Mr. 
 Giles, ' I suppose it will be all the same a hundred yeara 
 hence.' 
 
 ' You have conferred on me the greatest obligation,' said 
 Lothair, with much earnestness. ' Language cannot ex- 
 press what I feel. I am not too much used to kindness, 
 and I only hope that I may live to show my sense of yours.' 
 
 ' It is really no great affair, my Lord,' said Mr. Giles. ' I 
 did not wish to make difficulties, but it was my duty to put 
 the matter clearly before you. What I propose to do is 
 really nothing. I could do no less ; I should have felt 
 quite absurd if your Lordship had gone into the money 
 market.' 
 
 ' I only hope,' repeated Lothair, rising and offering Mr, 
 Giles his hand, 'that life may give me some occasion to 
 prove my gratitude.' 
 
 ' Well, my Lord,' replied Mr. Giles, ' if your Lordship 
 wish to repay me for any little interest I have shown in 
 your affairs, you can do that, over and over again, and at 
 once.' 
 
 ' How so ? ' 
 
 ' By a very great favour, by which Mrs. Giles and 
 myself would be deeply gratified. We have a few friends 
 who honour us by dining with us to-day in Hyde Park 
 Gardens. If your Lordship would add the great distinc- 
 tion of your presence ' 
 
 ' I should only be too much honoured,' exclaimed 
 Lothair ; ' I suppose about eight ;' and he left the room ; 
 and Mr. Giles telegraphed instantly the impending event 
 to Apollonia.
 
 LOTEAIB. 29 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 IT was a great day for Apollonia ; not only to have Lothair 
 on her right hand at dinner, but the prospect of receiving 
 a Cardinal in the evening. But she was equal to it ; 
 though so engrossed, indeed, in the immediate gratification 
 of her hopes and wishes, that she could scarcely dwell suffi- 
 ciently on the coming scene of triumph and social ex- 
 citement. 
 
 The repast was sumptuous ; Lothair thought the dinner 
 would never end, there were so many dishes, and apparently 
 all of the highest pretension. But if his simple tastes had 
 permitted him to take an interest in these details, which 
 they did not, he would have been assisted by a splendid 
 menu of gold and white typography, that was by the side 
 of each guest. The table seemed literally to groan under 
 vases and gigantic flagons, and, in its midst, rose a moun- 
 tain of silver, on which apparently all the cardinal virtues, 
 several of the pagan deities, and Britannia herself, illus- 
 trated with many lights a glowing inscription which 
 described the fervent feelings of a grateful client. 
 
 There were many guests : the Dowager of Farringford, 
 a lady of quality, Apollonia' s great lady, who exercised 
 under this roof much social tyranny ; in short, was rather 
 fine ; but who, on this occasion, was somewhat cowed by 
 the undreamt-of presence of Lothair. She had not yet 
 met him, and probably never would have met him, had she 
 not had the good fortune of dining at his lawyer's. How- 
 ever, Lady Farringford was placed a long way from Lothair, 
 having been taken down to dinner by Mr. Giles, and so, 
 by the end of the first course, Lady Farringford had nearly 
 resumed her customary despotic vein, and was beginning
 
 30 LOTHAFK. 
 
 to indulge in several kind observations, cheapening her 
 host and hostess and indirectly exalting herself; upon 
 which Mr. Giles took an early easy opportunity of ap- 
 prising Lady Farringford that she had nearly met Cardinal 
 Grandison at dinner, and that his Eminence would cer- 
 tainly pay his respects to Mrs. Putney Giles in the evening. 
 As Lady Farringford was at present a high ritualist, 
 and had even been talked of as ' going to Rome,' this in- 
 telligence was stunning, and it was observed that her 
 Ladyship was unusually subdued during the whole of the 
 second course. 
 
 On the right of Lothair sate the wife of a Vice- Chan- 
 cellor, a quiet and pleasing lady, to whom Lothair, with 
 natural good breeding, paid snatches of happy attention, 
 when he could for a moment with propriety withdraw him- 
 self from the blaze of Apollonia's coruscating conversation. 
 Then there was a rather fierce-looking Red Ribbon, medal- 
 led as well as be-starred, and the Red Ribbon's wife, with 
 a blushing daughter, in spite of her parentage not yet 
 accustomed to stand fire. A partner and his unusually 
 numerous family had the pleasure also of seeing Lothair 
 for the first time, and there were no less than four M.P.'s, 
 one of whom was even in office. 
 
 Apollonia was stating to Lothair, with brilliant perspi- 
 cuity, the reasons which quite induced her to believe that 
 the Gulf Stream had changed its course, and the political 
 and social consequences that might accrue. 
 
 ' The religious sentiment of the Southern races must be 
 wonderfully affected by a more rigorous climate,' said 
 Apollonia. ' I cannot doubt,' she continued, ' that a series 
 of severe winters at Rome might put an end to Romanism.' 
 
 ' But is there any fear that a reciprocal influence might 
 be exercised on the Northern nations ? ' enquired Lothair. 
 ' Would there be any apprehension of our Protestantism 
 becoming proportionately relaxed ? '
 
 LOTH AIR. 31 
 
 ' Of course not,' said Apollonia. ' Trutli cannot be 
 affected by climate. Truth is truth alike in Palestine and 
 Scandinavia.' 
 
 ' I wonder what the Cardinal would think of this,' said 
 Lothair, ' who, you tell me, is coming to you this evening.' 
 
 ' Yes, I am most interested to see him, though he is the 
 most puissant of our foes. Of course he would take refuge 
 in sophistry ; and science, you know, they deny.' 
 
 ' Cardinal Grandison is giving some lectures on science,' 
 said the Vice- Chancellor's lady, quietly. 
 
 ' It is remorse,' said Apollonia. ' Their clever men can 
 never forget that unfortunate affair of Galileo, and think 
 they can divert the indignation of the nineteenth century 
 by mock zeal about red sandstone or the origin of species.' 
 
 ' And are you afraid of the Gulf Stream ? ' enquired 
 Lothair of his calmer neighbour. 
 
 ' I think we want more evidence of a change. The 
 Vice- Chancellor and I went down to a place we have near 
 town on Saturday, where there is a very nice piece of 
 water ; indeed, some people call it a lake ; it was quite 
 frozen, and my boys wanted to skate, but that I would not 
 permit.' 
 
 ' You believe in the Gulf Stream to that extent,' said 
 Lothair ; ' no skating.' 
 
 The Cardinal came early ; the ladies had not long left 
 the dining-room. They were agitated when his name was 
 announced ; even Apollonia's heart beat ; but then that 
 might be accounted for by the inopportune recollection of 
 an occasional correspondence with Caprcra. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the simple suavity with which the 
 Cardinal appeared, approached, and greeted them. He 
 thanked Apollonia for her permission to pay his respects to 
 her, which he had long wished to do ; and then they were 
 all presented, and he said exactly the right thing to every- 
 one. He must have Heard of them all before, or road
 
 32 LOTHAIE. 
 
 their characters in their countenances. In a few minntea 
 they were all listening to his Eminence with enchanted 
 ease, as, sitting on the sofa by his hostess, he described to 
 them the ambassadors who had just arrived from Japan, 
 and with whom he had relations of interesting affairs. The 
 Japanese Government had exhibited enlightened kindness 
 to some of his poor people who had barely escaped martyr- 
 dom. Much might be expected from the Mikado, evidently 
 a man of singular penetration and elevated views ; and his 
 Eminence looked as if the mission to Yokohama would 
 speedily end in an episcopal see ; but he knsw where he 
 was, and studiously avoided all controversial matter. 
 
 After all, the Mikado himself was not more remarkable 
 than this Prince of the Church in a Tyburnian drawing- 
 room, habited in his pink cassock and cape, and waving, as 
 he spoke, with careless grace his pink barrette. 
 
 The ladies thought the gentlemen rejoined them too soon ; 
 but Mr. Giles, when he was apprised of the arrival of the 
 Cardinal, thought it right to precipitate the symposium. 
 With great tact, when the Cardinal rose to greet him, Mr. 
 Giles withdrew his Eminence from those surrounding, 
 and, after a brief interchange of whispered words, quitted 
 him, and then brought forward and presented Lothair to 
 the Cardinal, and left them. 
 
 ' This is not the first time that we should have met,' said 
 the Cardinal ; ' but my happiness is so great at this 
 moment that, though I deplore, I will not dwell on, the 
 past.' 
 
 'I am, nevertheless, grateful to you, sir, for many ser- 
 vices, and have more than once contemplated taking tho 
 liberty of personally assuring your Eminence of my gra- 
 titude.' 
 
 ' I think we might sit down,' said the Cardinal, looking 
 around ; and then he led Lothair into an open but interior 
 saloon, where none were yet present, and where they seated
 
 LOTHATB. 33 
 
 themselves on a sofa, and were soon engaged in apparently 
 interesting converse. 
 
 In the meantime the world gradually filled the principal 
 saloon of Apollonia, and when it approached overflowing, 
 occasionally some persons passed the line, and entered the 
 room in which the Cardinal and his ward were seated, and 
 then, as if conscious of violating some sacred place, drew 
 back. Others, on the contrary, with coarser curiosity, were 
 induced to invade the chamber from the mere fact that the 
 Cardinal was to be seen there. 
 
 ' My geographical instinct,' said the Cardinal to Lothair, 
 1 assures me that I can regain the staircase through these 
 rooms, without rejoining the busy world ; so I shall bid you 
 good night, and even presume to give you my blessing ; ' 
 and his Eminence glided away. 
 
 When Lothair returned to the saloon it was so crowded 
 that he was not observed ; exactly what he liked ; and he 
 stood against the wall watching all that passed, not with- 
 out amusement. A lively, social parasite, who had dined 
 there, and had thanked his stars at dinner that fortune had 
 decreed he should meet Lothair, had been cruising for his 
 prize all the time that Lothair had been conversing with the 
 Cardinal, and was soon at his side. 
 
 ' A strange scene this ! ' said the parasite. 
 
 ' Is it unusual ? ' enquired Lothair. 
 
 ' Such a medley ! How they can be got together, I 
 marvel : priests and philosophers, legitimists and car- 
 bonari ! Wonderful woman, Mrs. Putney Giles ! ' 
 
 ' She is very entertaining,' said Lothair, ' and seems to 
 me clever.' 
 
 ' Remarkably so,' said the parasite, who had been on tho 
 point of satirising his hostess, but, observing the quarter of 
 the wind, with rapidity went in for praise. 'An extra- 
 ordinary woman. Your Lordship had a long talk with the 
 Cardinal.' 
 
 D
 
 34 LOTHAIB. 
 
 ' I had the honour of some conversation with Cardinal 
 Grandison,' said Lothair, drawing up. 
 
 ' I wonder what the Cardinal would have said if he had 
 met Mazzini here ? ' 
 
 ' Mazzini ! Is he here ? ' 
 
 ' Not now ; but I have seen him here,' said the parasite, 
 * and our host such a Tory ! That makes the thing so 
 amusing;' and then the parasite went on making small 
 personal observations on the surrounding scene, and every 
 now and then telling little tales of great people with whom, 
 it appeared, he was intimate : all concerted fire to gain the 
 very great social fortress he was now besieging. The 
 parasite was so full of himself, and so anxious to display 
 himself to advantage, that with all his practice it was some 
 time before he perceived he did not make all the way he 
 could wish with Lothair, who was courteous, but some- 
 what monosyllabic and absent. 
 
 ' Your Lordship is struck by that face ? ' said the para- 
 site. 
 
 Was Lothair struck by that face ? And what was it ? 
 
 He had exchanged glances with that face during the last 
 ten minutes, and the mutual expression was not one of 
 sympathy, but curiosity, blended, on the part of the face, 
 with an expression, if not of disdain, of extreme reserve. 
 
 It was the face of a matron, apparently of not many 
 summers, for her shapely figure was still slender, though 
 her mien was stately. But it was the countenance that 
 had commanded the attention of Lothair : pale, but per- 
 fectly Attic in outline, with the short upper lip and the 
 round chin, and a profusion of dark chesnut hair bound by 
 a Grecian fillet, and on her brow a star. 
 
 ' Yes, I am struck by that face. Who is it ? ' 
 
 ' If your Lordship could only get a five-francpiece of the 
 last French Republic, 1850, you would know. I dare say 
 the moneychangers could get you one. All the artists of
 
 LOTHAIR. 35 
 
 Paris, painters, and sculptors, and medallists, were com- 
 peting to produce a face worthy of representing " La Re- 
 publiquo francaise;" nobody was satisfied, when Oudine 
 caught a girl of not seventeen, and, with a literal repro- 
 duction of nature, gained the prize with unanimity.' 
 
 'Ah!' 
 
 * And though years have passed, the countenance has 
 not changed; perhaps improved.' 
 
 ' It is a countenance that will bear, perhaps even would 
 require, maturity,' said Lothair ; ' but she is no longer " La 
 Republique francaise ;" what is she now ?' 
 
 4 She is called Theodora, though married, I believe, to an 
 Englishman, a friend of Garibaldi. Her birth unknown ; 
 some say an Italian, some a Pole ; all sorts of stories. But 
 she speaks every language, is ultracosmopolitan, and has 
 invented a new religion.' 
 
 ' A new religion ! ' 
 
 ' Would your Lordship care to be introduced to her ? I 
 know her enough for that. Shall we go up to her ? ' 
 
 ' I have made so many new acquaintances to-day,' said 
 Lothair, as it were starting from a reverie, 'and indeed 
 heard so many new things, that I think I had better say 
 good night ; ' and he graciously retired. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ABOUT the same time that Lothair had repaired to the 
 residence of Mr. Giles, Monsignore Berwick, whose audience 
 of the Cardinal in the morning had preceded that of the 
 legal adviser of the trustees, made his way towards one of 
 the noblest mansions in St. James's Square, where resided 
 Lord St. Jerome. 
 
 It was a mild winter evening ; a little fog still hanging
 
 36 LOTHAIR. 
 
 about, but vanquished by the cheerful lamps, and the voice 
 of the muffin bell was just heard at intervals; a genial 
 sound that calls up visions of trim and happy hearths. If 
 we could only so contrive our lives as to go into the 
 country for the first note of the nightingale, and return to 
 town for the first note of the muffin bell, existence, it is 
 humbly presumed, might be more enjoyable. 
 
 Monsignore Berwick was a young man, but looking 
 younger from a countenance almost of childhood; fair, with 
 light blue eyes, and flaxen hair and delicate features. He 
 was the last person you would have fixed upon as a born 
 Roman ; but nature, in one of the freaks of race, had 
 resolved that his old Scottish blood should be re-asserted, 
 though his ancestors had sedulously blended it, for many 
 generations, with that of the princely houses of the eternal 
 city. The Monsignore was the greatest statesman of 
 Borne, formed and favoured by Antonelli, and probably his 
 successor. 
 
 The mansion of Lord St. Jerome was a real family 
 mansion, built by his ancestors a century and a half ago, 
 when they believed that from its central position, its happy 
 contiguity to the Court, the senate, and the seats of 
 Government, they at last in St. James's Square had dis- 
 covered a site which could defy the vicissitudes of fashion, 
 and not share the fate of their river palaces, which they 
 had been obliged in turn to relinquish. And in a con- 
 siderable degree they were right in their anticipation, 
 for although they have somewhat unwisely permitted the 
 Clubs to invade too successfully their territory, St. James's 
 Square may be looked upon as our Faubourg St. Germain, 
 and a great patrician residing there dwells in the heart of 
 that free and noble life of which he ought to be a part. 
 
 A marble hall and a marble staircase, lofty chambers 
 with silk or tapestried hangings, gilded cornices, and 
 painted ceilings, gave a glimpse of almost Venetian splen-
 
 LOTHAIR. 37 
 
 dour, rare in our metropolitan houses of this age ; but the 
 first dwellers in St. James's Square had tender and in- 
 spiring recollections of the Adrian bride, had frolicked in 
 St. Mark's, and glided in adventurous gondolas. The 
 Monsignore was ushered into a chamber bright with lights 
 and a blazing fire, and welcomed with extreme cordiality 
 by his hostess, who was then alone. Lady St. Jerome was 
 still the young wife of a nobleman not old. She was the 
 daughter of a Protestant house, but, during a residence at 
 Rome after her marriage, she had reverted to the ancient 
 faith, which she professed with the enthusiastic convictions 
 of a convert. Her whole life was dedicated to the triumph 
 of the Catholic cause ; and being a woman of considerable 
 intelligence and of an ardent mind, she had become a 
 recognised power in the great confederacy which has so 
 much influenced the human race, and which has yet to 
 play perhaps a mighty part in the fortunes of the world. 
 
 ' I was in great hopes that the Cardinal would have met 
 you at dinner,' said Lady St. Jerome, ' but he wrote only 
 this afternoon to say unexpected business would prevent 
 him, but he would be here in the evening, though late.' 
 
 ' It must be something sudden, for I was with his 
 Eminence this morning, and he then contemplated our 
 meeting here.' 
 
 ' Nothing from abroad ? ' 
 
 ' I should think not, or it would be known to me. There 
 is nothing new from abroad this afternoon : my time has 
 been spent in writing, not receiving, despatches.' 
 
 'And all well, I hope?' 
 
 ' This Scotch business plagues us. So far as Scotland is 
 concerned it is quite ripe ; but the Cardinal counsels delay 
 on account of this country, and he has such a consummate 
 knowledge of England, that ' 
 
 At this moment Lord St. Jerome entered the room : a 
 grave but gracious personage, polished but looking silent,
 
 38 LOTHAIR. 
 
 though he immediately turned the conversation to the 
 weather. The Monsignore began denouncing English fogs ; 
 but Lord St. Jerome maintained that, on the whole, there 
 were not more fogs in England than in any other country ; 
 ' and as for the French,' he added, ' I like their audacity, 
 for when they revolutionised the calendar, they called one 
 of their months Brumaire.' 
 
 Then came in one of his Lordship's chaplains, who 
 saluted the Monsignore with reverence, and immediately 
 afterwards a beautiful young lady, his niece, Clare 
 Arundel. 
 
 The family were living in a convenient suite of small 
 rooms on the ground-floor, called the winter rooms, so 
 dinner was announced by the doors of an adjoining chamber 
 being thrown open, and there they saw, in the midst of a 
 chamber hung with green silk and adorned with some fine 
 cabinet-pictures, a small round table bright and glowing. 
 
 It was a lively dinner. Lord St. Jerome loved conver- 
 sation, though he never conversed. ' There must be an 
 audience,' he would say, ' and I am the audience.' The 
 partner of his life, whom he never ceased admiring, had 
 originally fascinated him by her conversational talents ; 
 and even if nature had not impelled her, Lady St. Jerome 
 was too wise a woman to relinquish the spell. The Mon- 
 signore could always, when necessary, sparkle with anecdote 
 or blaze with repartee ; and all the chaplains, who abounded 
 in this house, were men of bright abilities, not merely men 
 of reading but of the world, learned in the world's ways, 
 and trained to govern mankind by the versatility of their 
 sympathies. It was a dinner where there could not be two 
 conversations going on, and where even the silent take 
 their share in the talk by their sympathy. 
 
 And among the silent, as silent even as Lord St. Jerome, 
 was Miss Arundel ; and yet her large violet eyes, darker 
 eyon than her dark brown hair, and gleaming with intelli-
 
 LOTHAIB. 39 
 
 gence, and her rich face mantling with emotion, proved she 
 was not insensible to the witty passages and the bright and 
 interesting narratives that were sparkling and flowing about 
 her. 
 
 The gentlemen left the dining-room with the ladies in 
 the continental manner. Lady St. Jerome, who was lean- 
 ing on the arm of the Monsignore, guided him into a saloon 
 farther than the one they had re-entered, and then seating 
 herself said, ' You were telling me about Scotland, that you 
 yourself thought it ripe.' 
 
 ' Unquestionably. The original plan was to have esta- 
 blished our hierarchy when the Kirk split up ; but that 
 would have been a mistake ; it was not then ripe. There 
 would have been a fanatical reaction. There is always a 
 tendency that way in Scotland : as it is, at this moment, 
 the Establishment and the Free Kirk are mutually sighing 
 for some compromise which may bring them together again ; 
 and if the proprietors would give up their petty patronage, 
 some flatter themselves it might be arranged. But we are 
 thoroughly well-informed, and have provided for all this. 
 We sent two of our best men into Scotland some time ago, 
 and they have invented a new Church, called the United 
 Presbyterians. John Knox himself was never more violent, 
 or more mischievous. The United Presbyterians will do 
 the business : they will render Scotland simply impossible 
 to live in ; and then, when the crisis arrives, the distracted 
 and despairing millions will find refuge in the bosom of 
 their only mother. That is why, at home, we wanted no 
 delay in the publication of the bull and the establishment 
 of the hierarchy.' 
 
 ' But the Cardinal says no ? ' 
 
 ' And must be followed. For these islands he has no 
 equal. He wishes great reserve at present. Affairs here 
 are progressing, gradually but surely. But it is Ireland 
 where matters are critical, or will be soon.'
 
 40 LOTHAIB. 
 
 ' Ireland ! I thought there was a sort of understanding 
 there, at least for the present.' 
 
 The Monsignore shook his head, ' What do you think of 
 an American invasion of Ireland ? ' 
 
 ' An American invasion ! ' 
 
 ' Even so ; nothing more probable, and nothing more to 
 be deprecated by us. Now that the civil war in America 
 is over, the Irish soldiery are resolved to employ their 
 experience and their weapons in their own land ; but they 
 have no thought for the interest of the Holy See, or the 
 welfare of our Holy religion. Their secret organisation is 
 tampering with the people and tampering with the priests. 
 The difficulty of Ireland is that the priests and the people 
 will consider everything in a purely Irish point of view. 
 To gain some local object, they will encourage the principles 
 of the most lawless liberalism, which naturally land them 
 in Fenianism and Atheism. And the danger is not fore- 
 seen, because the Irish political object of the moment is 
 alone looked to.' 
 
 ' But surely they can be guided ?' 
 
 ' We want a statesman in Ireland. We have never been 
 able to find one ; we want a man like the Cardinal. But 
 the Irish will have a native for their chief. We caught 
 Churchill young, and educated him in the Propaganda; 
 but he has disappointed us. At first all seemed well ; he 
 was reserved and austere ; and we heard with satisfaction 
 that he was unpopular. But now that critical times are 
 arriving, his peasant blood cannot resist the contagion, 
 He proclaims the absolute equality of all religions, and of 
 the power of the state to confiscate ecclesiastical property, 
 and alienate it for ever. For the chance of subverting the 
 Anglican Establishment, he is favouring a policy which 
 will subvert religion itself. In his eagerness he cannot see 
 that the Anglicans have only a lease of our property, a 
 lease which is rapidly expiring.'
 
 LOTHAIB. 41 
 
 ' This is sad.' 
 
 4 It is perilous, and difficult to deal with. But it mnst be 
 dealt with. The problem is to suppress Fenianism, and not 
 to strengthen the Protestant confederacy.' 
 
 ' And you left Borne for this ? We understood you were 
 coming for something else,' said Lady St. Jerome in a 
 significant tone. 
 
 ' Yes, yes, I have been there, and I have seen him.' 
 
 4 And have yon succeeded ? ' 
 
 ' No ; and no one will ; at least at present.' 
 
 ' Is all lost then ? Is the Malta scheme again on the 
 carpet ? ' 
 
 ' Our Holy Church is built upon a rock,' said the Mon- 
 signore, ' but not upon the rock of Malta. Nothing is lost ; 
 Antonelli is calm and sanguine, though, rest assured, there 
 is no doubt about what I tell you. France has washed her 
 hands of us.' 
 
 'Where then are we to look for aid,' exclaimed Lady 
 St. Jerome, ' against the assassins and atheists ? Austria, 
 the alternative ally, is no longer near you ; and if she were 
 (that I should ever live to say it), even Austria is our 
 foe.' 
 
 ' Poor Austria ! ' said the Monsignore with an unctuous 
 sneer. ' Two things made her a nation ; she was German 
 and she was Catholic, and now she is neither.' 
 
 4 But you alarm me, my dear Lord, with your terrible 
 news. We once thought that Spain would be our pro- 
 tector, but we hear bad news from Spain.' 
 
 4 Yes,' said the Monsignore, 4 1 think it highly probable 
 that, before a few years have elapsed, every government in 
 Europe will be atheistical except France. Vanity will 
 always keep France the eldest son of the Church, even if 
 she wear a bonnet rouge. But if the Holy Father keep 
 Rome, these strange changes will only make the occupier 
 of the chair of St. Peter more powerful. His subjects will
 
 42 LOTHAIE. 
 
 be in every clime and every country, and then they will be 
 only his subjects. We shall get rid of the difficulty of the 
 divided allegiance, Lady St. Jerome, which plagued our 
 poor forefathers so much.' 
 
 ' If we keep Rome,' said Lady St. Jerome. 
 
 ' And we shall. Let Christendom give us her prayers 
 for the next few years, and Pio Nono will become the most 
 powerful monarch in Europe, and perhaps the only one.' 
 
 ' I hear a sound,' exclaimed Lady St. Jerome. ' Yes ! 
 the Cardinal has come. Let us greet him.' 
 
 But as they were approaching the saloon the Cardinal 
 met them, and waved them back. ' We will return,' he 
 said, ' to our friends immediately, but I want to say one 
 word to you both.' 
 
 He made them sit down. ' I am a little restless,' he 
 said, and stood before the fire. ' Something interesting 
 has happened ; nothing to do with public affairs (do not 
 pitch your expectations too high), but still of importance, 
 and certainly of great interest, at least to me. I have 
 seen my child, my ward.' 
 
 ' Indeed an event ! ' said Lady St. Jerome, evidently 
 much interested. 
 
 ' And what is he like ? ' enquired the Monsignoi'e. 
 
 ' All that one could wish. Extremely good-looking, 
 highly bred, and most ingenuous ; a considerable intelli- 
 gence and not untrained ; but the most absolutely un- 
 affected person I ever encountered.' 
 
 4 Ah ! if he had been trained by your Eminence,' sighed 
 Lady St. Jerome. ' Is it too late ? ' 
 
 ' 'Tis an immense position," murmured Berwick. 
 
 * What good might he not do ? ' said Lady St. Jerome ; 
 * and if he be so ingenuous, it seems impossible that he can 
 resist the truth.' 
 
 ' Your Ladyship is a sort of cousin of his,' said the Car- 
 dinal musingly.
 
 LOTHAIR. 43 
 
 * Yes ; but very remote. I dare say be would not acknow- 
 ledge the tie. But we are kin ; we have the same blood in 
 our veins.' 
 
 ' You should make his acquaintance,' said the Cardinal. 
 
 1 1 more than desire it. I hear he has been terribly neg- 
 lected, brought up among the most dreadful people, entirely 
 infidels and fanatics.' 
 
 ' He has been nearly two years at Oxford,' said the Car- 
 dinal. ' That may have mitigated the evil.' 
 
 ' Ah ! but you, my Lord Cardinal, you must interfere. 
 Now that you at last know him, you must undertake the 
 great task ; you must save him.' 
 
 ' We must all pray, as I pray every morn and every 
 night,' said the Cardinal, ' for the conversion of England.' 
 
 ' Or the conquest,' murmured Berwick. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 As the Cardinal was regaining his carriage on leaving 
 Mrs. Giles' party, there was, about the entrance of the 
 house, the usual gathering under such circumstances ; some 
 zealous linkboys marvellously familiar with London life, 
 and some midnight loungers, who thus take their humble 
 share of the social excitement, and their happy chance of 
 becoming acquainted with some of the notables of the 
 wondrous world of which they form the base. This little 
 gathering, ranged at the instant into stricter order by the 
 police to facilitate the passage of his Eminence, prevented 
 the progress of a passenger, who exclaimed in an audible, 
 but not noisy, voice, as if he were ejaculating to himself, 
 4 A bas les pretres ! ' 
 
 This exclamation, unintelligible to the populace, was 
 noticed only by the only person who understood it. The
 
 44 LOTHATB. 
 
 Cardinal, astonished at the unusual sound (for, hitherto, 
 he had always found the outer world of London civil, or at 
 least indifferent), threw his penetrating glance at the pas- 
 senger, and caught clearly the visage on which the lamp- 
 light fully shone. It was a square, sinewy face, closely 
 shaven, with the exception of a small but thick moustache, 
 brown as the well-cropped hair, and blending with the 
 hazel eye ; a calm, but determined countenance ; clearly 
 not that of an Englishman, for he wore ear-rings. 
 
 The carriage drove off, and the passenger, somewhat 
 forcing his way through the clustering group, continued 
 his course until he reached the cab-stand near the Marble 
 Arch, when he engaged a vehicle and ordered to be driven 
 to Leicester Square. That quarter of the town exhibits 
 an animated scene towards the witching hour ; many lights 
 and much population, illuminated coffee-houses, the stir of 
 a large theatre, bands of music in the open air, and other 
 sounds, most of them gay, and some festive. The stranger, 
 whose compact figure was shrouded by a long far cape, 
 had not the appearance of being influenced by the tempta- 
 tion of amusement. As he stopped in the square and 
 looked around him, the expression of his countenance was 
 moody, perhaps even anxious. He seemed to be making 
 observations on the locality, and, after a few minutes, 
 crossed the open space and turned up into a small street 
 which opened into the square. In this street was a coffee- 
 house of some pretension, connected indeed with an hotel, 
 which had been formed out of two houses, and therefore 
 possessed no inconsiderable accommodation. 
 
 The coffee-room was capacious, and adorned in a manner 
 which intimated it was not kept by an Englishman, or 
 much used by Englishmen. The walls were painted in 
 frescoed arabesques. There were many guests, principally 
 seated at small tables of marble, and on benches and chairs 
 covered with a coarse crimson velvet. Some were sipping
 
 LOTHAIR. 45 
 
 coffee, some were drinking wine, others were smoking or 
 playing dominoes, or doing both ; while many were en- 
 gaged in reading the foreign journals, which abounded. 
 
 An ever- vigilant waiter was at the side of the stranger 
 the instant he entered, and wished to know his pleasure. 
 The stranger was examining with his keen eye every indi- 
 vidual in the room, while this question was asked and 
 repeated. 
 
 'What would I wish?' said the stranger, having con- 
 cluded his inspection, and as it were summoning back his 
 recollection. ' I would wish to see, and at once, one Mr. 
 Ferroni, who, I believe, lives here.' 
 
 ' Why, 'tis the master ! ' exclaimed the waiter. 
 
 ' Well, then, go and tell the master that I want him.' 
 
 ' But the master is much engaged,' said the waiter ; 
 1 particularly.' 
 
 ' I dare say ; but you will go and tell him that I particu- 
 larly want to see him.' 
 
 The waiter, though prepared to be impertinent to any 
 one else, felt that one was speaking to him who must be 
 obeyed, and with a subdued but hesitating manner said, 
 'There is a meeting to-night upstairs, where the master is 
 secretary, and it is difficult to see him ; but if I could see 
 him, what name am I to give ? ' 
 
 * You will go to him instantly,' said the stranger, ' and 
 you will tell him that he is wanted by Captain Bruges.' 
 
 The waiter was not long absent, and returning with 
 an obsequious bow, he invited the stranger to follow him 
 to a private room, where he was alone only for a few 
 seconds, for the door opened and he was joined by 
 Perroni. 
 
 ' Ah I my General,' exclaimed the master of the coffee- 
 house, and he kissed the stranger's hand. ' You received 
 my telegram ? ' 
 
 ' I am here. Now what is your business ? '
 
 46 LOTHAIR. 
 
 ' There is business, and great business ; if you will do it, 
 business for you.' 
 
 ' Well, I am a soldier, and soldiering is my trade, and I 
 do not much care what I do in that way, provided it is not 
 against the good cause. But I must tell you at once, 
 friend Perroni, I am not a man who will take a leap in the 
 dark. I must form my own staff, and I must have my 
 commissariat secure.' 
 
 ' My General, you will be master of your own terms. 
 The standing committee of the Holy Alliance of Peoples 
 are sitting upstairs at this moment. They were unanimous 
 in sending for you. See them; judge for yourself; and, 
 rest assured, you will be satisfied.' 
 
 * I do not much like having to do with committees,' said 
 the General. ' However, let it be as you like : I will see 
 them.' 
 
 ' I had better just announce your arrival,' said Perroui. 
 ' And will you not take something, my General, after your 
 travel ? You must be wearied.' 
 
 ' A glass of sugar and water. You know I am not easily 
 tired. And, I agree with you, it is better to come to busi- 
 ness at once : so prepare them.' 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE Standing Committee of the Holy Alliance of Peoples 
 all rose, although they were extreme Republicans, when the 
 General entered. Such is the magical influence of a man 
 of action over men of the pen and the tongue. Had it been, 
 instead of a successful military leader, an orator that had 
 inspired Europe, or a journalist who had established the 
 rights of the human race, the Standing Committee would 
 have only seen one of their own kidney, who having been
 
 LOTHALR. 47 
 
 favoured with happier opportunities than themselves, had 
 reaped a harvest which, equally favoured, they might have 
 garnered. 
 
 4 General,' said Felix Drolin, the president, who was 
 looked upon by the brotherhood as a statesman, for he had 
 been, in his time, a member of a Provisional Government, 
 ' this seat is for you ;' and he pointed to one on his right 
 hand. ' You are ever welcome ; and I hope you bring 
 good tidings, and good fortune.' 
 
 ' I am glad to be among my friends, and I may say,' 
 looking around, ' my comrades. I hope I may bring you 
 better fortune than my tidings.' 
 
 'But now they have left Rome,' said the President, 
 ' every day we expect good news.' 
 
 ' Ay, ay ! he has left Rome, but he has not left Rome 
 with the door open. I hope it is not on such gossip you 
 have sent for me. You have something on hand. What 
 is it?' 
 
 'You shall hear it from the fountain-head,' said the 
 President, ' fresh from New York ;' and he pointed to an 
 individual seated in the centre of the table. 
 
 'Ah! Colonel Finucane,' said the General, 'I have not 
 forgotten James River. You did that well. What is the 
 trick now ? ' 
 
 Whereupon a tall, lean man, with a decided brogue, but 
 speaking through his nose, rose from his seat and informed 
 the General that the Irish people were organised and ready 
 to rise ; that they had sent their deputies to New York ; 
 all they wanted were arms and officers ; that the American 
 brethren had agreed to supply them with both, and amply ; 
 and that considerable subscriptions were raising for 
 other purposes. What they now required was a com- 
 mander-in-chief equal to the occaoion, and in whom all 
 would have confidence ; and therefore they had telegraphed 
 Cor the General.
 
 48 LOTHAIB. 
 
 ' I doubt not our friends over the water would send us 
 plenty of rifles,' said the General, ' if we could only manage 
 to land them ; and I think I know men now in the States 
 from whom I could form a good staff; but how about the 
 people of Ireland ? What evidence have we that they will 
 rise, if we land ? ' 
 
 'The best,' said the President. 'We have a Head- 
 Centre here, Citizen Desmond, who will give you the most 
 recent and the most authentic intelligence on that head.' 
 
 ' The whole country is organised,' said the Head-Centre; 
 1 we could put 300,000 men in the field at any time in a 
 fortnight. The movement is not sectarian ; it pervades all 
 classes and all creeds. All that we want are officers and 
 arms. ' 
 
 ' Hem ! ' said the General. ' And as to your other sup- 
 plies ? Any scheme of commissai'iat ? ' 
 
 ' There will be no lack of means,' replied the Head- 
 Centre. ' There is no country where so much money 
 is hoarded as in Ireland. But, depend upon it, so far as 
 the commissariat is concerned, the movement will be self- 
 supporting.' 
 
 ' Well, we shall see,' said the General ; ' I am sorry it is 
 an Irish affair, though, to be sure, what else could it be ? 
 I am not fond of Irish affairs : whatever may be said, and 
 however plausible things may look, in an Irish business 
 there is always a priest at the bottom of it. I hate priests. 
 By the bye, I was stopped on my way here by a Cardinal 
 getting into his carriage. I thought I had burnt all those 
 vehicles when I was at Borne with Garibaldi in '48. A 
 Cardinal in his carriage ! I had no idea you permitted that 
 sort of cattle in London.' 
 
 ' London is a roost for every bird,' said Felix Drolin. 
 
 'Very few of the priests favour this movement,' said 
 Desmond. 
 
 ' Then you have a great power against you,' said the 
 General, ' in addition to England,'
 
 LOTHAIK. 49 
 
 ' They are not exactly against ; the bulk of them are too 
 national for that ; bat Rome does not sanction : you under- 
 stand ? ' 
 
 ' I understand enough,' said the General, ' to see that we 
 must not act with precipitation. An Irish business is a 
 thing to be turned over several times.' 
 
 ' But yet,' said a Pole, ' what hope for humanity except 
 from the rising of an oppressed nationality. We have 
 offered ourselves on the altar, and in vain ! Greece is too 
 small, and Roumania, though both of them are ready to 
 do anything ; but they would be the mere tools of Russia. 
 Ireland alone remains, and she is at our feet.' 
 
 ' The peoples will never succeed till they have a fleet, 
 said a German. ' Then you could land as many rifles as 
 you like, or anything else. To have a fleet we rose against 
 Denmark in my country, but we have been betrayed. 
 Nevertheless, Germany will yet be united, and she can only 
 be united as a Republic. Then she will be the mistress of 
 the seas.' 
 
 'That is the mission of Italy,' said Perroni. 'Italy, 
 with the traditions of Genoa, Venice, Pisa ; Italy is plainly 
 indicated as the future mistress of the seas.' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon,' said the German ; ' the future mis- 
 tress of the seas is the land of the Viking. It is the forests 
 of the Baltic that will build the fleet of the future. You 
 have no timber in Italy.' 
 
 ' Timber is no longer wanted,' said Perroni. ' Nor do I 
 know of what will be formed the fleets of the future. But 
 the sovereignty of the seas depends upon seamen, and the 
 nautical genius of the Italians ' 
 
 ' Comrades,' said the General, ' we have discussed to- 
 night a great subject. For my part I have travelled rather 
 briskly as you wished it. I should like to sleep on this 
 affair.' 
 
 ' 'Tis most reasonable,' said the President. ' Our re-
 
 50 LOTHAIR. 
 
 freshment at council is very spare,' he continued, and he 
 pointed to a vase of water and some glasses ranged round 
 it in the middle of the table ; ' but we always drink one 
 toast, General, before we separate. It is to one whom you 
 love, and whom you have served well. Fill glasses, breth- 
 ren, and now " To MARY- ANNE." ' 
 
 If they had been inspired by the grape nothing could be 
 more animated and even excited than all their countenances 
 suddenly became. The cheer might have been heard in 
 the coffee-room, as they expressed, in the phrases of many 
 languages, the never-failing and never-flagging enthusiasm 
 invoked by the toast of their mistress. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ' DID you read that paragraph, mamma ? ' enquired Lady 
 Coriaande of the Duchess, in a tone of some seriousness. 
 
 'I did.' 
 
 ' And what did you think of it ? ' 
 
 ' It filled me with so much amazement that I have hardly 
 begun to think.' 
 
 * And Bertram never gave a hint of such things ! ' 
 ' Let us believe they are quite untrue.' 
 
 ' I hope Bertram is in no danger,' said his sister. 
 
 ' Heaven forbid ! ' exclaimed the mother, with unaffected 
 alarm. 
 
 ' I know not how it is,' said Lady Corisande, ' but I 
 frequently feel that some great woe is hanging over our 
 country.' 
 
 * You must dismiss such thoughts, my child ; they are 
 fanciful.' 
 
 ' But it will come, and when least expected ; frequently 
 in church, but also in. the sunshine ; and when I am riding;
 
 LOTHAIB. 51 
 
 too, when once everything seemed gay. But now I often 
 think of strife, and struggle, and war ; civil war : the stir 
 of our cavalcade seems like the tramp of cavalry.' 
 
 ' You indulge your imagination too much, dear Corisande. 
 When you return to London, and enter the world, these 
 anxious thoughts will fly.' 
 
 ' Is it imagination ? I should rather have doubted my 
 being of an imaginative nature. It seems to me that I am 
 rather literal. But I cannot help hearing things, and 
 reading things, and observing things, and they fill me with 
 disquietude. All seems doubt and change, when it would 
 appear that we require both faith and firmness.' 
 
 ' The Duke is not alarmed about affairs,' said his wife. 
 
 ' And if all did their duty like papa, there might be less, 
 or no cause,' said Corisande, * to be alarmed. But when 
 I hear of young nobles, the natural leaders of the land, 
 going over to the Bx)man Catholic Church, I confess I lose 
 heart and patience. It seems so unpatriotic, so effeminate.' 
 
 ' It may not be true,' said the Duchess. 
 
 ' It may not be true of him, but it is true of others,' said 
 Lady Corisande. ' And why should he escape ? He is 
 very young, rather friendless, and surrounded by wily per- 
 sons. I am disappointed about Bertram too. He ought 
 to have prevented this, if it be true. Bertram seemed to 
 me to have such excellent principles, and so completely to 
 feel that he was born to maintain the great country which 
 his ancestors had created, that I indulged in dreams. I 
 suppose you are right, mamma ; I suppose I am imagina- 
 tive without knowing it ; but I have always thought and 
 hoped, that when the troubles came the country might, 
 perhaps, rally round Bertram.' 
 
 ' I wish to see Bertram in Parliament,' said the Duchess. 
 ' That will be the best thing for him. The Duke has some 
 plans.' 
 
 This conversation had been occasioned by a paragraph in 
 i a
 
 52 LOTHAIB. 
 
 the 'Morning Post,' circulating a rumour that a young 
 noble, obviously Lothair, on the impending completion of 
 his minority, was about to enter the Roman Church. The 
 Duchess and her daughter were sitting in a chamber of 
 their northern castle, and speculating on their return to 
 London, which was to take place after the Easter which 
 had just arrived. It was an important social season for 
 Corisande, for she was to be formally introduced into the 
 great world, and to be presented at Court. 
 
 In the meanwhile, was there any truth in the report 
 about Lothair ? 
 
 After their meeting at their lawyer's, a certain intimacy 
 had occurred between the Cardinal and his ward. They 
 met again immediately and frequently, and their mutual 
 feelings were cordial. The manners of his Eminence were 
 refined and affectionate ; his conversational powers were 
 distinguished ; there was not a subject on which his mind 
 did not teem with interesting suggestions ; his easy know- 
 ledge seemed always ready and always full ; and whether it 
 were art, or letters, or manners, or even political affairs, 
 Lothair seemed to listen to one of the wisest, most en- 
 lightened, and most agreeable of men. There was only one 
 subject on which his Eminence seemed scrupulous never to 
 touch, and that was religion ; or so indirectly, that it was 
 only when alone that Lothair frequently found himself 
 musing over the happy influence on the arts, and morals, 
 and happiness of mankind, of the Church. 
 
 In due time, not too soon, but when he was attuned to 
 the initiation, the Cardinal presented Lothair to Lady St. 
 Jerome. The impassioned eloquence of that lady germinated 
 the seed which the Cardinal had seemed so carelessly to 
 scatter. She was a woman to inspire crusaders. Not that 
 she ever condescended to vindicate her own particular 
 faith, or spoke as if she were conscious that Lothair did not 
 possess it. Assuming that religion was trie, for otherwise
 
 LOTH AIR. 53 
 
 man would be in a more degraded position than the beasts 
 of the field, which are not aware of their own wretched- 
 ness, then religion should be the principal occupation of 
 man, to which all other pursuits should be subservient. 
 The doom of eternity, and the fortunes of life, cannot be 
 placed in competition. Our days should be pure, and holy, 
 and heroic, full of noble thoughts and solemn sacrifice. 
 Providence, in its wisdom, had decreed that the world 
 should be divided between the faithful and atheists ; the 
 latter even seemed to predominate. There was no doubt 
 that, if they prevailed, all that elevated man would become 
 extinct. It was a great trial ; but happy was the man who 
 was privileged even to endure the awful test. It might 
 develope the highest qualities and the most sublime con- 
 duct. If he were equal to the occasion, and could control 
 and even subdue these sons of Corah, he would rank with 
 Michael the Archangel. 
 
 This was the text on which frequent discourses were de- 
 livered to Lothair, and to which he listened at first with 
 eager, and soon with enraptured attention. The priestess 
 was worthy of the shrine. Few persons were ever gifted 
 with more natural eloquence ; a command of language, 
 choice without being pedantic ; beautiful hands that flut- 
 tered with irresistible grace ; flashing eyes and a voice of 
 melody. 
 
 Lothair began to examine himself, and to ascertain 
 whether he possessed the necessary qualities, and was 
 capable of sublime conduct. His natural modesty and his 
 strong religious feeling struggled together. He feared he 
 was not an archangel, and yet he longed to struggle with 
 the powers of darkness. 
 
 One day he ventured to express to Miss Arundel a 
 somewhat hopeful view of the future, but Miss Arundol 
 shook her head. 
 
 ' I do not agree with my aunt, at least as regards this
 
 54 LOTHAIK. 
 
 country,' said Miss Arundel ; ' I think our sins are too 
 great. We left Hi a Church, and God is now leaving us.' 
 
 Lothair looked grave, but was silent. 
 
 Weeks had passed since his introduction to the family 
 of Lord St. Jerome, and it was remarkable how large a 
 portion of his subsequent time had passed under that roof. 
 At first there were few persons in town, and really of these 
 Lothair knew none ; and then the house in St. James's 
 Square was not only an interesting, but it was an agree- 
 able house. All Lady St. Jerome's family connections 
 were persons of much fashion, so there was more variety 
 and entertainment than sometimes are to be found under a 
 Roman Catholic roof. Lady St. Jerome was at home every 
 evening before Easter. Few dames can venture success- 
 fully on so decided a step ; but her saloons were always 
 attended, and by ' nice people.' Occasionally the Cardinal 
 stepped in, and, to a certain degree, the saloon was the 
 rendezvous of the Catholic party ; but it was also generally 
 social and distinguished. Many bright dames and damsels, 
 and many influential men, were there, who little deemed 
 that deep and daring thoughts were there masked by many 
 a gracious countenance. The social atmosphere infinitely 
 pleased Lothair. The mixture of solemn duty and graceful 
 diversion, high purposes and charming manners, seemed to 
 realise some youthful dreams of elegant existence. All 
 too was enhanced by the historic character of the roof and 
 by the recollection that their common ancestors, as Clare 
 Arundel more than once intimated to him, had created 
 England. Having had so many pleasant dinners in St. 
 James's Square, and spent there so many evening hours, it 
 was not wonderful that Lothair had accepted an invitation 
 from Lord St. Jerome to pass Easter at his country seat.
 
 LOTHAIB. 55 
 
 CHAPTER XIH. 
 
 VAUXE, the seat of the St. Jeromes, was the finest specimen 
 of the old English residence extant. It was the perfection 
 of the style, which had gradually arisen after the wars of 
 the Roses had alike destroyed all the castles and the pur- 
 pose of those stern erections. People said Vauxe looked 
 like a college : the truth is, colleges looked like Vanxe, for 
 when those fair and civil buildings rose, the wise and 
 liberal spirits who endowed them, intended that they 
 should resemble as much as possible the residence of a great 
 noble. 
 
 There were two quadrangles at Vauxe of grey stone ; 
 the outer one of larger dimensions and much covered with 
 ivy ; the inner one not so extensive but more ornate, with 
 a lofty tower, a hall, and a chapel. The house was full of 
 galleries, and they were full of portraits. Indeed there 
 was scarcely a chamber in this vast edifice of which the 
 walls were not breathing with English history in this 
 interesting form. Sometimes more ideal art asserted a 
 triumphant claim : transcendental Holy Families, seraphic 
 saints, and gorgeous scenes by Tintoret and Paul of Yerona. 
 
 The furniture of the house seemed never to have been 
 changed. It was very old, somewhat scanty, but very rich : 
 tapestry and velvet hangings, marvellous cabinets, and 
 eiystal girandoles. Here and there a group of ancient 
 plate ; ewers and flagons and tall saltcellars a foot high 
 and richly chiselled ; sometimes a state bed shadowed with 
 a huge pomp of stiff brocade and borne by silver poles. 
 
 Vauxe stood in a large park studded with stately trees ; 
 here and there an avenue of Spanish chesnuts or a grove 
 of oaks; sometimes a gorsy dell and sometimes a great 
 Bpread of antlered fern, taller than the tallest man.
 
 56 LOTHAIR 
 
 It was only twenty miles from town, and Lord St. 
 Jerome drove Lothair down ; the last ten miles through a 
 pretty land, which, at the right season, would have been 
 bright with orchards, oak woods, and hop gardens. Lord 
 St. Jerome loved horses and was an eminent whip. He 
 had driven four-in-hand when a boy, and he went on driv- 
 ing four-in-hand ; not because it was the fashion, but be- 
 cause he loved it. Towards the close of Lent, Lady St. 
 Jerome and Clare Arundel had been at a convent in re- 
 treat, but they always passed Holy Week at home, and 
 they were to welcome Lord St. Jerome again at Vauxe. 
 
 The day was bright, the mode of movement exhilarating, 
 all the anticipated incidents delightful, and Lothair felt the 
 happiness of health and youth. 
 
 'There is Vauxe,' said Lord St. Jerome, in a tone of 
 proud humility, as a turn in the road first displayed the 
 stately pile. 
 
 ' How beautiful ! ' said Lothair ; ' ah ! our ancestors 
 understood the country.' 
 
 ' I used to think when I was a boy,' said Lord St. 
 Jerome, ' that I lived in the prettiest village in the world, 
 but these railroads have so changed everything, that Vauxe 
 seems to me now only a second town house.' 
 
 The ladies were in a garden, where they were consulting 
 with the gardener and Father Coleman about the shape of 
 some new beds, for the critical hour of filling them was 
 approaching. The gardener, like all head-gardeners, was 
 opiniated. Living always at Vauxe, he had come to be- 
 lieve that the gardens belonged to him, and that the family 
 were only occasional visitors ; and he treated them accord- 
 ingly. The lively and impetuous Lady St. Jerome had a 
 thousand bright fancies, but her morose attendant rarely 
 indulged them. She used to deplore his tyranny with 
 piteous playfulness. ' I suppose,' she would say, ' it is 
 useless to resist, for I observe 'tis the same everywhere.
 
 LOTHAIR 57 
 
 Lady Roehampton says she never has her way with her 
 gardens. It is no use speaking to Lord St. Jerome, for 
 though he is afraid of nothing else, I am sure he is afraid 
 of Hawkins.' 
 
 The only way that Lady St. Jerome could manage 
 Hawkins was through Father Coleman. Father Coleman, 
 who knew everything, knew a great deal about gardens ; 
 from the days of Le Notre to those of the fine gentlemen 
 who now travel about, and when disengaged deign to give 
 us advice. 
 
 Father Coleman had only just entered middle-age, was 
 imperturbable and mild in his manner. He passed his life 
 very much at Vauxe, and imparted a great deal of know- 
 ledge to Mr. Hawkins, without apparently being conscious 
 of so doing. At the bottom of his mind, Mr. Hawkins felt 
 assured that he had gained several distinguished prizes, 
 mainly through the hints and guidance of Father Coleman ; 
 and thus, though on the surface a little surly, he was ruled 
 by Father Coleman, under the combined influence of self- 
 interest and superior knowledge. 
 
 ' You find us in a garden without flowers,' said Lady St. 
 Jerome ; ' but the sun, I think, alway loves these golden 
 yews.' 
 
 ' These are for you, dear uncle,' said Clare Arundel, as 
 she gave him a rich cluster of violets. ' Just now the woods 
 are more fragrant than the gardens, and these are the pro- 
 duce of our morning walk. I could have brought you some 
 primroses, but I do not like to mix violets with anything.' 
 
 ' They say primroses make a capital salad,' said Lord St. 
 Jerome. 
 
 ' Barbarian ! ' exclaimed Lady St. Jerome. ' I see you 
 want luncheon ; it must be ready ; ' and she took Lothair'a 
 arm. * I will show you a portrait of one of your ancestors,' 
 she said ; * he married an Arundel.'
 
 58 LOTHAIR 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 ' Now, you know,' said Lady St. Jerome to Lothair ta a 
 hushed voice, as they sate together in the evening, ' you 
 are to be quite free here ; to do exactly what you like, and 
 we shall follow our ways. If you like to have a clergyman 
 of your own Church visit you while you are with us, pray 
 say so without the slightest scruple. We have an excellent 
 gentleman in this parish ; he often dines here ; and I am 
 sure he would be most happy to attend you. I know that 
 Holy Week is not wholly disregarded by some of the 
 Anglicans.' 
 
 ' It is the anniversary of the greatest event of time,' 
 said Lothair ; ' and I should be sorry if any of my Church 
 did not entirely regard it, though they may show that 
 regard in a way different from your own.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes,' murmured Lady St. Jerome ; ' there should 
 be no difference between our Churches, if things were only 
 properly understood. I would accept all who really bow 
 to the name of Christ ; they will come to the Church at 
 last ; they must. It is the Atheists alone, I fear, who are 
 now carrying everything before them, and against whom 
 there is no rampart, except the rock of St. Peter.' 
 
 Miss Arundel crossed the room, whispered something to 
 her aunt, and touched her forehead with her lips, and then 
 left the apartment. 
 
 ' We must soon separate, I fear,' said Lady St. Jerome ; 
 ' we have an office to-night of great moment ; the Tenebrse 
 commence to-night. You have, I think, nothing like it , 
 but you have services throughout this week.' 
 
 * I am sorry to say I have not attended them,' said 
 Lothair. ' I did at Oxford ; but I don't know how it is, 
 but in London there seems no religion. And yet, as you
 
 LOTHAIR. 59 
 
 sometimes say, religion is the great business of life ; I 
 sometimes begin to think the only business.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes,' said Lady St. Jerome, with much interest, ' if 
 you believe that you are safe. I wish you had a clergyman 
 near you while you are here. See Mr. Claughton if yon 
 like ; I would ; and if yon do not, there is Father Coleman. 
 i cannot convey to you how satisfactory conversation is 
 with him on religious matters. He is the holiest of men, 
 and yet he is a man of the world : he will not invite you 
 into any controversies. He will speak with you only on 
 points on which we agree. You know there are many 
 points on which we agree ? ' 
 
 'Happily,' said Lothair. 'And now about the office to- 
 night : tell me about these Tenebrse. Is there anything 
 in the Tenebrte that should prevent my being present ? ' 
 
 ' No reason whatever ; not a dogma which you do not 
 believe ; not a ceremony of which you cannot approve. 
 There are psalms, at the end of each of which a light on 
 the altar is extinguished. There is the Song of Moses, the 
 Canticle of Zachary, the Miserere, which is the 51st 
 Psalm yon read and chant regularly in your church, the 
 Lord's Prayer in silence ; and then all is darkness and 
 distress : what the Church was when our Lord suffered, 
 what the whole world is now except His Church.' 
 
 ' If yon will permit me,' said Lothair, ' I will accompany 
 you to the Tenebne.' 
 
 Although the chapel at Vauxe was, of course, a private 
 chapel, it was open to the surrounding public, who eagerly 
 availed themselves of a permission alike politic and gracious. 
 
 Nor was that remarkable. Manifold art had combined 
 to create this exquisite temple, and to guide all its minis- 
 trations. But to-night it was not the radiant altar and the 
 splendour of stately priests, the processions and the 
 incense, the divine choir and the celestial harmonies re- 
 sounding and lingering in arched roofs, that attracted
 
 60 LOTHAIR. 
 
 many a neighbour. The altar was desolate, the choir was 
 dumb ; and while the services proceeded in hushed tones 
 of subdued sorrow, and sometimes even of suppressed 
 anguish, gradually, with each psalm and canticle, a light 
 of the altar was extinguished, till at length the Miserere 
 was muttered, and all became darkness. A sound as of a 
 distant and rising wind was heard, and a crash, as it were 
 the fall of trees in a storm. The earth is covered with 
 darkness, and the vail of the temple is rent. But just at 
 this moment of extreme woe, when all human voices are 
 silent, and when it is forbidden even to breathe 'Amen ; ' 
 when everything is symbolical of the confusion and despair 
 of the Church at the loss of her expiring Lord, a priest 
 brings forth a concealed light of silvery flame from a 
 corner of the altar. This is the light of the world, and 
 announces the resurrection, and then all rise up and depart 
 in silence. 
 
 As Lothair rose, Miss Arundel passed him with stream- 
 ing eyes. 
 
 ' There is nothing in this holy office,' said Father Cole- 
 man to Lothair, ' to which every real Christian might not 
 give his assent.' 
 
 ' Nothing,' said Lothair, with great decision. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THERE were Tenebrae on the following days, Maundy 
 Thursday and Good Friday ; and Lothair was present on 
 both occasions. 
 
 ' There is also a great office on Friday,' said Father 
 Coleman to Lothair, ' which perhaps you would not like to 
 attend, the mass of the Pro-sanctified. We bring back the 
 Blessed Sacrament bo the desolate altar, and unveil the
 
 LOTHAIR. 61 
 
 Cross. It is one of our highest ceremonies, the adoration 
 of the Cross, which the Protestants persist in calling 
 idolatry, though I presume they will give us leave to know 
 the meaning of our own words and actions, and hope they 
 will believe us when we tell them that our genuflexions 
 aud kissing of the Cross are no more than exterior expres- 
 sions of that love which we bear in our hearts to Jesus 
 crucified ; and that the words adoration and adore, as 
 applied to the Cross, only signify that respect and venera- 
 tion due to things immediately relating to God and His 
 service.' 
 
 ' I see no idolatry in it,' said Lothair, musingly. 
 
 ' No impartial person could,' rejoined Father Coleman 
 ' but unfortunately all these prejudices were imbibed when 
 the world was not so well-informed as at present. A good 
 deal of mischief has been done, too, by the Protestant ver- 
 sions of the Holy Scriptures ; made in a hurry, and by 
 men imperfectly acquainted with the Eastern tongues, and 
 quite ignorant of Eastern manners. All the accumulated 
 research and investigation of modern times have only illus- 
 trated and justified the offices of the Church.' 
 
 * That is very interesting,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Now, this question of idolatry,' said Father Coleman, 
 ' that is a fertile subject of misconception. The house of 
 Israel was raised up to destroy idolatry, because idolatry 
 then meant dark images of Moloch opening their arms by 
 machinery, and flinging the beauteous firstborn of the land 
 into their huge forms, which were furnaces of fire; or 
 Ashtaroth, throned in moonlit groves, and surrounded by 
 orgies of ineffable demoralisation. It required the declared 
 will of God to redeem man from such fatal iniquity, which 
 would have sapped the human race. But to confound 
 such deeds with the commemoration of God's saints, who 
 are only pictured because their lives are perpetual incen- 
 tives to purity and holiness, and to declare that the Queen
 
 62 LOTIIAIB. 
 
 of Heaven and the Mother of God should be to human 
 feeling only as a sister of charity or a gleaner in the fields, 
 is to abuse reason and to outrage the heart.' 
 
 ' We live in dark times,' said Lothair, with an air of 
 distress. 
 
 ' Not darker than before the deluge,' exclaimed Father 
 Coleman ; * not darker than before the Nativity ; not 
 darker even than when the saints became martyrs. There 
 is a Pharos in the world, and its light will never be ex- 
 tinguished, however black the clouds and wild the waves. 
 Man is on his trial now, not the Church ; but in the service 
 of the Church his highest energies may be developed, and 
 his noblest qualities proved.' 
 
 Lothair seemed plunged in thought, and Father Coleman 
 glided away as Lady St. Jerome entered the gallery, 
 shawled and bonneted, accompanied by another priest, 
 Monsignore Catesby. 
 
 Catesby was a youthful member of an ancient English 
 house, which for many generations had without a murmur, 
 rather in a spirit of triumph, made every worldly sacrifice 
 for the Church and Court of Borne. For that cause they 
 had forfeited their lives, broad estates, and all the honours 
 of a lofty station in their own land. Reginald Catesby 
 with considerable abilities, trained with consummate skill, 
 inherited their determined will, and the traditionary beauty 
 of their form and countenance. His manners were win- 
 ning, and he was as well informed in the ways of the world 
 as he was in the works of the great casuists. 
 
 ' My Lord has ordered the char-a-banc, and is going to 
 drive us all to Chart, where we will lunch,' said Lady St. 
 Jerome ; ' 'tis a curious place, and was planted only seventy 
 years ago by my Lord's grandfather, entirely with spruce 
 firs, but with so much care and skill, giving each plant and 
 tree ample distance, that they have risen to the noblest 
 proportions, with all their green branches far- spread ing on 
 the ground like huge fans.'
 
 LOTHAIR. 63 
 
 It was only a drive of three or four miles entirely in the 
 park. This was a district that had been added to the 
 ancient enclosure ; a striking scene. It was a forest of 
 firs, but quite unlike such as might be met with in the 
 north of Europe or of America. Every tree was perfect, 
 huge and complete, and full of massy grace. Nothing 
 else was permitted to grow there except juniper, of which 
 there were abounding and wondrous groups, green and 
 spiral ; the whole contrasting with the tall brown fern of 
 which there were quantities about cut for the deer. 
 
 The turf was dry and mossy, and the air pleasant. It 
 was a balmy day. They sate down by the great trees, the 
 servants opened the luncheon baskets, which were a 
 present from Balmoral. Lady St. Jerome was seldom 
 seen to greater advantage than distributing her viands 
 under such circumstances. Never was such gay and grace- 
 ful hospitality. Lothair was quite fascinated as she play- 
 fully thrust a paper of lobster-sandwiches into his hand, 
 and enjoined Monsignore Catesby to fill his tumbler with 
 Chablis. 
 
 4 1 wish Father Coleman were hei'e,' said Lothair to 
 Miss Arundel. 
 
 ' Why ? ' said Miss Arundel. 
 
 ' Because we were in the midst of a very interesting 
 conversation on idolatry and on worship in groves, when 
 Lady St. Jerome summoned us to our drive. This seems 
 a grove where one might worship.' 
 
 ' Father Coleman ought to be at Borne,' said Miss 
 Arundel. ' He was to have passed Holy Week there. I 
 know not why he changed his plans.' 
 
 * Are you angry with him for it ? ' 
 
 ' No, not angry, but surprised ; surprised that anyone 
 might be at Rome, and yet be absent from it.' 
 
 ' You like Rome ? ' 
 
 ' I have never been there. It is the wish of my life.'
 
 64 LOTHAIR. 
 
 'May I say to you what you said to me just now: 
 why?' 
 
 'Naturally, because I would wish to witness the cere- 
 monies of the Church in their most perfect form.' 
 
 ' But they are fulfilled in this country, I have heard, 
 with much splendour and precision.' 
 
 Miss Arundel shook her head. 
 
 ' Oh ! no,' she said ; ' in this country we are only just 
 emerging from the catacombs. If the ceremonies of the 
 Church were adequately fulfilled in England, we should 
 hear very little of English infidelity.' 
 
 ' That is saying a great deal,' observed Lothair, en- 
 quiringly. 
 
 ' Had I that command of wealth of which we hear so 
 much in the present day, and with which the possessors 
 seem to know so little what to do, I would purchase some 
 of those squalid streets in Westminster, which are the 
 shame of the metropolis, and clear a great space and buikl 
 a real cathedral, where the worship of heaven should be 
 perpetually conducted in the full spirit of the ordinances 
 of the Church. I believe, were this done, even this country 
 might be saved.' 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 LOTHAIR began to meditate on two great ideas : the recon- 
 ciliation of Christendom and the influence of architecture 
 on religion. If the differences between the Roman and 
 Anglican Churches, and between the Papacy and Protes- 
 tantism, generally arose, as Father Coleman assured him, 
 and seemed to prove, in mere misconception, reconciliation, 
 though difficult, did not seem impossible, and appeared to 
 be one of the most efficient modes of defeating the Atheists. 
 It was a result which of course mainly depended on the
 
 LOTH AIR. 65 
 
 authority of Reason ; but the power of the imagination 
 might also be enlisted in the good cause through the in- 
 fluence of the fine arts, of which the great mission is to 
 excite, and at the same time elevate, the feelings of 
 the human family. Lothair found himself frequently in a 
 reverie over Miss Arundel's ideal fane ; and feeling that 
 he had the power of buying up a district in forlorn West- 
 minster, and raising there a temple to the living God, 
 which might influence the future welfare of millions, and 
 even effect the salvation of his country, he began to ask 
 himself, whether he could incur the responsibility of 
 shrinking from the fulfilment of this great duty. 
 
 Lothair could not have a better adviser on the subject of 
 the influence of architecture on religion than Monsignore 
 Catesby. Monsignore Catesby had been a pupil of Pugin ; 
 his knowledge of ecclesiastical architecture was only 
 equalled by his exquisite taste. To hear him expound the 
 mysteries of symbolical art, and expatiate on the hidden 
 revelations of its beauteous forms, reached even to ecstasy. 
 Lothair hung upon his accents like a neophyte. Con- 
 ferences with Father Coleman on those points of faith on 
 which they did not differ, followed up by desultory remarks 
 on those points of faith on which they ought not to differ ; 
 critical discussions with Monsignore Catesby on cathedrals, 
 their forms, their purposes, and the instances in several 
 countries in which those forms were most perfect and those 
 purposes best secured, occupied a good deal of time ; and 
 yet these engaging pursuits were secondary in real emotion 
 to his frequent conversations with Miss Arundel, in whose 
 society every day he took a strange and deeper interest. 
 
 She did not extend to him that ready sympathy which 
 was supplied by the two priests. On the contrary, when 
 he was apt to indulge in those speculations which they 
 always encouraged, and rewarded by adroit applause, she 
 vrM often silent, throwing on him only the scrutiny of
 
 66 LOTHAIR. 
 
 those violet eyes, whose glance was rather fascinating than 
 apt to captivate. And yet he was irresistibly drawn to 
 her, 'and once recalling the portrait in the gallery, he ven- 
 tured to murmur that they were kinsfolk. 
 
 ' Oh ! I have no kin, no country,' said Miss Arundel. 
 ' These are not times for kin and country. I have given 
 up all these things for my Master ! ' 
 
 ' But are our times so trying as that ? ' enquired Lothair. 
 
 ' They are times for new crusades,' said Miss Arundel, 
 with energy, ' though it may be of a different character 
 from the old. If I were a man I would draw my sword 
 for Christ. There are as great deeds to be done as the 
 siege of Ascalon, or even as the freeing of the Holy 
 Sepulchre.' 
 
 In the midst of a profound discussion with Father Cole- 
 man on Mariolatry, Lothair, wrapt in reverie, suddenly 
 introduced the subject of Miss ArundeL ' I wonder what 
 will be her lot,' he exclaimed. 
 
 'It seems to me to be settled,' said Father Coleman. 
 * She will be the bride of the Church.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' and he started, and even changed colour. 
 
 ' She deems it her vocation,' said Father Coleman. 
 
 ' And yet, with such gifts, to be immured in a convent,' 
 said Lothair. 
 
 ' That would not necessarily follow,' replied Father Cole- 
 man. ' Miss Arundel may occupy a position in which she 
 may exercise much influence for the great cause which 
 absorbs her being.' 
 
 ' There is a divine energy about her,' said ]^othair, 
 almost speaking to himself. ' It could not have been given 
 for little ends.' 
 
 ' If Miss Arundel could meet with a spirit as exalted and 
 as energetic as her own,' said Father Coleman, ' her fate 
 might be different. She has no thoughts which are not 
 great, and no purposes which are not sublime. But for
 
 LOTHAIR. 67 
 
 the companion of her life she would require no less than a 
 Godfrey de Bouillon.' 
 
 Lothair began to find the time pass very rapidly at 
 Vauxe. Easter week had nearly vanished ; Vauxe had been 
 gay during the last few days. Every day some visitors 
 came down from London ; sometimes they returned in the 
 evening ; sometimes they passed the night at Vauxe and 
 returned to town in the morning with large bouquets 
 Lothair felt it was time for him to depart, and he broke his 
 intention to Lady St. Jerome ; but Lady St. Jerome would 
 cot hear of it. So he muttered something about business. 
 
 ' Exactly,' she said ; ' everybody has business, and I 
 dare say you have a great deal. But Vauxe is precisely the 
 place for persons who have business. You go up to town 
 by an early train, and then you return in time for dinner, 
 and bring us all the news from the Clubs.' 
 
 Lothair was beginning to say something, but Lady St. 
 Jerome, who, when necessary, had the rare art of not 
 listening without offending the speaker, told him that they 
 did not intend themselves to return to town for a week or 
 so, and that she knew Lord St. Jerome would be greatly 
 annoyed if Lothair did not remain. 
 
 Lothair remained ; and he went up to town one or two 
 mornings to transact business ; that is to say, to see a cele- 
 brated architect, and to order plans for a cathedral, in 
 which all the purposes of those sublime and exquisite 
 structures were to be realised. The drawings would take 
 a considerable time to prepare, and these must be deeply 
 considered. So Lothair became quite domiciliated at 
 Vauxe : ho went up to town in the morning and returned, 
 as it were, to his home ; everybody delighted to welcome 
 him, and yet he seemed not expected. His rooms were 
 called after his name ; and the household treated him afi 
 one of the family. 
 
 F 2
 
 68 LOTHAIB. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A FEW days before Lothair's visit was to terminate, the 
 Cardinal and Monsignore Berwick arrived at Vauxe. His 
 Eminence was received with much ceremony ; the mar- 
 shalled household, ranged in lines, fell on their knees at his 
 approach, and Lady St. Jerome, Miss Arundel, and some 
 other ladies scarcely less choice and fair, with the lowest 
 obeisance, touched with their honoured lips his princely 
 hand. 
 
 The Monsignore had made another visit to Paris on his 
 intended return to Rome, but in consequence of some 
 secret intelligence which he had acquired in the French 
 capital, had thought fit to return to England to consult 
 with the Cardinal. There seemed to be no doubt that the 
 Revolutionary party in Italy, assured by the withdrawal of 
 the French troops from Rome, were again stirring. There 
 seemed also little doubt that London was the centre of 
 preparation, though the project and the projectors were 
 involved in much mystery. ' They want money,' said the 
 Monsignore ; ' that we know, and that is now our best 
 chance. The Aspromonte expedition drained their private 
 resources ; and as for further aid, that is out of the ques- 
 tion ; the galantuomo is bankrupt. But the Atheists are 
 desperate, and we must prepare for events.' 
 
 On the morning after their arrival, the Cardinal invited 
 Lothair to a stroll in the park. ' There is the feeling of 
 spring this morning,' said his Eminence, ' though scarcely 
 yet its vision.' It was truly a day of balm, and sweetness, 
 and quickening life ; a delicate mist hung about the huge 
 trees and the masses of more distant woods, and seemed to 
 clothe them with that fulness of foliage which was not yet 
 theirs. The Cardinal discoursed much on forest trees, and
 
 LOTHAIR. 69 
 
 happily. He recommended Lothair to read Evelyn's 
 ' Sylva.' Mr. Evelyn had a most accomplished mind ; 
 indeed, a character in every respect that approached per- 
 fection. He was also a most religious man. 
 
 'I wonder,' said Lothair, 'how any man who Is religious 
 can think of anything but religion.' 
 
 ' True,' said the Cardinal, and looking at him earnestly, 
 ' most true. But all things that are good and beautiful 
 make us more religious. They tend to the development of 
 the religious principle in us, which is our divine nature. 
 And, my dear young friend,' and here his Eminence put 
 his arm easily and affectionately into that of Lothair's, ' it 
 is a most happy thing for you that you live so much with 
 a really religious family. It is a great boon for a young 
 man, and a rare one.' 
 
 ' I feel it so,' said Lothair, his face kindling. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said the Cardinal, ' when we remember that this 
 country once consisted only of such families ! ' And then, 
 with a sigh, and as if speaking to himself, ' and they made 
 it so great and so beautiful ! ' 
 
 ' It is still great and beautiful,' said Lothair, but rather 
 in a tone of enquiry than decision. 
 
 ' But the cause of its greatness and its beauty no longer 
 exists. It became great and beautiful because it believed 
 in God.' 
 
 ' But faith is not extinct ? ' said Lothair. 
 
 ' It exists in the Church,' replied the Cardinal with 
 decision. ' All without that pale is practical atheism.' 
 
 ' It seems to me that a sense of duty is natural to man,' 
 said Lothair, ' and that there can be no satisfaction in life 
 without attempting to fulfil it.' 
 
 * Noble words, my dear young friend ; noble and true. 
 And the highest duty of man, especially in this age, is to 
 vindicate the principles of religion, without which the 
 world must soon become a scene of universal desolation.'
 
 70 LOTHAIE. 
 
 * I wonder if England will ever again be a religious 
 country,' said Lothair musingly. 
 
 'I pray for that daily,' said the Cardinal ; and he invited 
 his companion to seat himself on the trunk of an oak that 
 had been lying there since the autumn fall. A slight hectic 
 flame played over the pale and attenuated countenance of 
 the Cardinal ; he seemed for a moment in deep thought ; 
 and then in a voice distinct yet somewhat hushed, and at 
 first rather faltering, he said, ' I know not a grander or a 
 nobler career for a young man of talents and position in 
 this age, than to be the champion and asserter of Divine 
 truth. It is not probable that there could be another con- 
 queror in our time. The world is wearied of statesmen, 
 whom democracy has degraded into politicians, and of 
 orators who have become what they call debaters. I do 
 not believe there could be another Dante, even another 
 Milton. The world is devoted to physical science, because 
 it believes these discoveries will increase its capacity ot 
 luxury and self-indulgence. But the pursuit of science 
 leads only to the insoluble. When we arrive at that barren 
 term, the Divine voice summons man, as it summoned 
 Samuel ; all the poetry and passion and sentiment of human 
 nature are taking refuge in religion ; and he whose deeds 
 and words most nobly represent Divine thoughts, will be 
 the man of this century.' 
 
 ' But who could be equal to such a task,' murmured 
 Lothair. 
 
 ' Yourself,' exclaimed the Cardinal, and he threw his 
 glittering eye upon his companion. ' Anyone with the 
 necessary gifts, who had implicit faith in the Divine pur- 
 pose.' 
 
 ' But the Church is perplexed ; it is ambiguous, contra- 
 dictory.' 
 
 ' No, no,' said the Cardinal ; ' not the Church of Christ ; 
 it is never perplexed, never ambiguous, never contradio-
 
 LOTHA1R. 71 
 
 tocy. Why should it be ? How could it be ? The Divine 
 persons are ever with it, strengthening and guiding ii 
 with perpetual miracles. Perplexed churches are churches 
 made by Act of Parliament, not by God.' 
 
 Lothair seemed to start, and looked at his guardian with 
 a scrutinising glance. And then he said, but not without 
 hesitation, ' I experience at times great despondency.' 
 
 ' Naturally,' replied the Cardinal. ' Every man must be 
 despondent who is not a Christian.' 
 
 ' But I am a Christian,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' A Christian estranged,' said the Cardinal ; ' a Christian 
 without the consolations of Christianity.' 
 
 ' There is something in that,' said Lothair. ' I require 
 the consolations of Christianity, and yet I feel I have them 
 not. Why is this ? ' 
 
 ' Because what you call your religion is a thing apart 
 from your life, and it ought to be your life. Religion 
 should be the rule of life, not a casual incident of it. There 
 is not a duty of existence, not a joy or sorrow which the 
 services of the Church do not assert, or with which they 
 do not sympathise. Tell me, now ; you have, I was glad to 
 hear, attended the services of the Church of late, since you 
 have been under this admirable roof. Have you not then 
 found some consolation ? ' 
 
 'Yes; without doubt I have been often solaced.' And 
 Lothair sighed. 
 
 ' What the soul is to man, the Church is to the world,' 
 said the Cardinal. ' It is the link between us and the 
 Divine nature. It came from heaven complete ; it has 
 never changed, and it can never alter. Its ceremonies are 
 types of celestial truths ; its services are suited to all the 
 moods of man ; they strengthen him in his wisdom and his 
 purity, and control and save him in the hour of passion 
 and temptation. Taken as a whole, with all its ministra- 
 tions, its orders, its offices, and the divine splendour of its
 
 72 LOTHAIE. 
 
 ritual, it secures us on earth some adumbration of that in- 
 effable glory which awaits the faithful in heaven, where 
 the blessed Mother of God and ten thousand saint? per- 
 petually guard us with Divine intercession.' 
 
 ' I was not taught these things in my boyhood,' said 
 Lothair. 
 
 ' And you might reproach me and reasonably, as your 
 guardian, for my neglect,' said the Cardinal. ' But my 
 power was very limited, and when my duties commenced, 
 you must remember that I was myself estranged from the 
 Church, I was myself a Parliamentary Christian, till de- 
 spondency and study and ceaseless thought and prayer, and 
 the Divine will, brought me to light and rest. But I at 
 least saved you from a Presbyterian University ; I at least 
 secured Oxford for you ; and I can assure you of my many 
 struggles that was not the least.' 
 
 ' It gave the turn to my mind,' said Lothair, ' and I am 
 grateful to you for it. What it will all end in, God only 
 knows.' 
 
 * It will end in His glory and in yours,' said the Car- 
 dinal. ' I have spoken perhaps too much and too freely, 
 but you greatly interest me, not merely because you are 
 my charge and the son of my beloved friend, but because I 
 perceive in you great qualities ; qualities so great,' con- 
 tinued the Cardinal with earnestness, 'that, properly 
 guided, they may considerably affect the history of this 
 country, and perhaps even have a wider range.' 
 
 Lothair shook his head. 
 
 ' Well, well,' continued the Cardinal in a lighter tone, 
 ' we will pursue our ramble. At any rate, I am not wrong 
 in this, that you have no objection to join in my daily 
 
 prayer for the conversion of this kingdom to religious 
 
 truth,' his Eminence added after a pause. 
 
 ' Yes ; religious truth,' said Lothair, ' we must all pray 
 for that.'
 
 LOTHAIR. 73 
 
 CHAPTER XVIH. 
 
 LOTHAIR returned to town excited and agitated. He felt 
 that he was on the eve of some great event in his existence, 
 but its precise character was not defined. One conclusion, 
 however, was indubitable : life must be religion. When 
 we consider what is at stake, and that our eternal welfare 
 depends on our due preparation for the future, it was folly 
 to spare a single hour from the consideration of the best 
 means to secure our readiness. Such a subject does not 
 admit of half measures or of halting opinions. It seemed 
 to Lothair that nothing could interest him in life that was 
 not symbolical of Divine truths and an adumbration of the 
 celestial hereafter. 
 
 Could truth have descended from heaven ever to be dis- 
 torted, to be corrupted, misapprehended, misunderstood ? 
 Impossible ! Such a belief would confound and contradict 
 all the attributes of the All- wise and the All-mighty. There 
 must be truth on earth now as fresh and complete as it 
 was at Bethlehem. And how could it be preserved but by 
 the influence of the Paraclete acting on an ordained class ? 
 On this head his tutor at Oxford had fortified him; by a 
 conviction of the Apostolical succession of the English 
 bishops, which no Act of Parliament could alter or affect. 
 But Lothair was haunted by a feeling that the relations of 
 his Communion with the Blessed Virgin were not satis- 
 factory. They could not content either his heart or his 
 intellect. Was it becoming that a Christian should live as 
 regards the hallowed Mother of his God in a condition of 
 harsh estrangement ? What mediatorial influence more 
 awfully appropriate than the consecrated agent of the 
 mighty mystery ? Nor could he, even in his early days, 
 accept without a scruple the frigid system that would class
 
 74 LOTHAIR. 
 
 the holy actors in the divine drama of the Redemption 
 as mere units in the categories of vanished generations. 
 Human beings who had been in personal relation with the 
 Godhead must be different from other human beings. There 
 must be some transcendent quality in their lives and careers, 
 in their very organisation, which marks them out from all 
 secular heroes. What was Alexander the Great, or even 
 Caius Julius, compared with that apostle whom Jesus 
 loved ? 
 
 Restless and disquieted, Lothair paced the long and lofty 
 rooms which had been secured for him in a London hotel 
 which rivalled the colossal convenience of Paris and the 
 American cities. Their tawdry ornaments and their terrible 
 new furniture would not do after the galleries and portraits 
 of Vauxe. Lothair sighed. 
 
 Why did that visit ever end ? Why did the world con- 
 sist of anything else but Tudor palaces in ferny parks, or 
 time be other than a perpetual Holy Week? He never 
 sighed at Vauxe. Why ? He supposed it was because 
 there religion was his life, and here : and he looked around 
 him with a shudder. The Cardinal was right : it was a 
 most happy thing for him to be living so much with so 
 truly a religious family. 
 
 The door opened, and servants came in bearing a large 
 and magnificent portfolio. It was of morocco and of pre- 
 latial purple with broad bands of gold and alternate orna- 
 ments of a cross and a coronet. A servant handed to 
 Lothair a letter, which enclosed the key that opened its 
 lock. The portfolio contained the plans and drawings of 
 the cathedral. 
 
 Lothair was lost in admiration of these designs and their 
 execution. But after the first fever of investigation was 
 over, he required sympathy and also information. In a 
 truly religious family there would always be a Father Cole- 
 man or a Monsignore Catesby to guide and to instruct.
 
 LOTHATR. 75 
 
 But a Protestant, if he wants aid or advice on any matter, 
 can only go to his solicitor. But as he proceeded in his 
 researches, he sensibly felt that the business was one above 
 even an Oratorian or a Monsignore. It required a finer 
 and a more intimate sympathy ; a taste at the same time 
 more inspired and more inspiring ; some one who blended 
 with divine convictions the graceful energy of human feel- 
 ing, and who would not only animate him to effort but 
 fascinate him to its fulfilment. The counsellor he required 
 was Miss Arundel. 
 
 Lothair had quitted Vauxe one week, and it seemed to 
 him a year. During the first four-and-twenty hours he 
 felt like a child who had returned to school, and the day 
 after like a man on a desert island. Various other forms 
 of misery and misfortune were suggested by his succeeding 
 experience. Town brought no distractions to him; he 
 knew very few people, and these he had not yet encoun- 
 tered ; he had once ventured to White's, but found only a 
 group of grey-headed men, who evidently did not know 
 him, and who seemed to scan him with cynical noncha- 
 lance. These were not the golden youth who he had been 
 assured by Bertram would greet him : so, after reading a 
 newspaper for a moment upside downwards, he got away. 
 But he had no harbour of refuge, and was obliged to ride 
 down to Richmond and dine alone and meditate on symbols 
 and celestial adumbrations. Every day he felt how inferior 
 was this existence to that of a life in a truly religious 
 family. 
 
 But of all the members of the family to which his 
 memory recurred with such unflagging interest none more 
 frequently engaged his thoughts than Miss Arundel. Her 
 conversation, which stimulated his intelligence while it 
 rather piqued his self-love, exercised a great influence over 
 him, and he had omitted no opportunity of enjoying her 
 society. That society and its animating power he sadly
 
 76 LOTHAIR. 
 
 missed ; and now that he had before him the very drawings 
 about which they had frequently talked, and she was not 
 by his side to suggest and sympathise and criticise and 
 praise, he felt unusually depressed. 
 
 Lothair corresponded with Lady St. Jerome, and was 
 aware of her intended movements. But the return of the 
 family to London had been somewhat delayed. When this 
 disappointment was first made known to him his impulse 
 was to ride down to Vauxe ; but the tact in which he was 
 not deficient assured him that he ought not to reappear on 
 a stage where he had already figured for perhaps too con- 
 siderable a time ; and so another week had to be passed, 
 softened, however, by visits from the Father of the Ora- 
 tory and the Chamberlain of his Holiness, who came to 
 look after Lothair with much friendliness, and with 
 whom it was consolatory and even delightful for him to 
 converse on sacred art, still holier things, and also Miss 
 Arundel. 
 
 At length, though it seemed impossible, this second week 
 elapsed, and to-morrow Lothair was to lunch with Lady 
 St. Jerome in St. James's Square, and to meet all his friends. 
 He thought of it all day, and he passed a restless night. 
 He took an early canter to rally his energies, and his fancy 
 was active in the splendour of the spring. The chesnuts 
 were in silver bloom, and the pink May had flushed the 
 thorns, and banks of sloping turf were radiant with plots 
 of gorgeous flowers. The waters glittered in the sun, and 
 the air was fragrant with that spell which only can be 
 found in metropolitan mignionette. It was the hour and 
 the season when heroic youth comes to great decisions, 
 achieves exploits, or perpetrates scrapes. 
 
 Nothing could be more cordial, nothing more winning, 
 than the reception of Lothair by Lady St. Jerome. She 
 did not conceal her joy at their being again together. 
 Even Miss Arundel, though still calm, even a little demure,
 
 LOTHA1B. 77 
 
 seemed glad to see him : her eyes looked kind and pleased, 
 and she gave him her hand with graceful heartiness. It 
 was the sacred hour of two when Lothair arrived, and 
 they were summoned to luncheon almost immediately. 
 Then they were not alone ; Lord St. Jerome was not there, 
 but the priests were present and some others. Lothair, 
 however, sate next to Miss Arundel. 
 
 ' T have been thinking of you very often since I left 
 Vauxe,' said Lothair to his neighbour. 
 
 ' Charitably, I am sure.' 
 
 ' I have been thinking of you every day,' he continued, 
 ' for I wanted your advice.' 
 
 ' Ah ! but that is not a popular thing to give.' 
 
 ' But it is precious : at least, yours is to me, and I want 
 it now very much.' 
 
 ' Father Coleman told me you had got the plans for the 
 cathedral,' said Miss Arundel. 
 
 ' And I want to show them to you.' 
 
 * I fear I am only a critic,' said Miss Arundel, ' and I do 
 not admire mere critics. I was very free in my comments 
 to you on several subjects at Vauxe ; and I must now say 
 I thought you bore it very kindly.' 
 
 ' I was enchanted,' said Lothair, ' and desire nothing 
 but to be ever subject to such remarks. But this affair of 
 the cathedral, it is your own thought ; I would fain hope 
 your own wish, for unless it were your own wish I do not 
 think I ever should be able to accomplish it.' 
 
 4 And when the cathedral is built,' said Miss Arundel, 
 what then ? ' 
 
 'Do you not remember telling me at Vauxe that all 
 sacred buildings should be respected, for that in the long 
 run they generally fell to the professors of the true faith ? ' 
 
 ' But when they built St. Peter's, they dedicated it to a 
 saint in heaven,' said Miss Arundel. ' To whom is yours 
 to be inscribed ? '
 
 78 LOTHAIR. 
 
 1 To a saint in heaven and on earth,' said Lothair, blush- 
 ing ; ' to St. Clare.' 
 
 But Lady St. Jerome and her guests rose at this moment, 
 and it is impossible to say with precision whether this last 
 remark of Lothair absolutely reached the ear of Miss 
 Arundel. She looked as if it had not. The priests and 
 the other guests dispersed. Lothair accompanied the 
 ladies to the drawing-room : he lingered, and he was me- 
 ditating if the occasion served to say more. 
 
 Lady St. Jerome was writing a note, Miss Arundel was 
 arranging some work, Lothair was affecting an interest in 
 her employment in order that he might be seated by her 
 and ask her questions, when the groom of the chambers 
 entered and enquired whether her Ladyship was at home, 
 and being answered in the affirmative retired, and an- 
 nounced and ushered in the Duchess and Lady Corisande. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 IT scorned that the Duchess and Lady St. Jerome were 
 intimate, for they called each other by their Christian 
 names, and kissed each other. The young ladies also 
 were cordial. Her Grace greeted Lothair with heartiness ; 
 Lady Corisande with some reserve. Lothair thought she 
 looked very radiant and very proud. 
 
 It was some time since they had all met, not since the 
 end of the last season, so there was a great deal to talk 
 about. There had been deaths and births and marriages, 
 which required a flying comment ; all important events : 
 deaths which solved many difficulties, heirs to estates 
 which were not expected, and weddings which surprised 
 everybody. 
 
 ' And have you seen Selina? ' enquired Lady St. Jerome.
 
 LOTHATR. 79 
 
 ' Not yet ; except mamma, this is our first visit,' replied 
 the Duchess. 
 
 4 Ah ! that is real friendship ! She came down to Vauxe 
 the other day, but I did not think she was looking well. 
 She frets herself too much about her boys ; she does not 
 know what to do with them. They will not go into the 
 Church, and they have no fortune for the Guards.' 
 
 * I understood that Lord Plantagenet was to be a civil 
 engineer,' said Lady Corisande. 
 
 ' And Lord Albert Victor to have a sheep-walk in 
 Australia,' continued Lady St. Jerome. 
 
 ' They say that a lord must not go to the bar,' said Miss 
 Arnndel. ' It seems to me very unjust.' 
 
 ' Alfred Beaufort went the circuit,' said Lady Corisande, 
 ' but I believe they drove him into Parliament.' 
 
 ' You will miss your friend Bertram at Oxford,' said the 
 Duchess, addressing Lothair. 
 
 ' Indeed,' said Lothair, rather confused, for he was him- 
 self a defaulter in collegiate attendance. 'I was just 
 going to write to him to see whether one could not keep 
 half a term.' 
 
 'Oh! nothing will prevent his taking his degree,' said 
 the Duchess, ' but I fear there must be some delay. There 
 is a vacancy for our county : Mr. Sandstone is dead, and 
 they insist upon returning Bertram. I hope he will be 
 of age before the nomination. The Duke is much op- 
 posed to it ; he wishes him to wait ; but in these days it is 
 not so easy for young men to get into Parliament. It is 
 not as it used to be ; we cannot choose.' 
 
 4 This is an important event,' said Lothair to Lady Cori- 
 sande. 
 
 * I think it is ; nor do I believe Bertram is too young for 
 public life. These are not times to be laggard.' 
 
 ' There is no doubt they are very serious times,' said 
 Ix)thair.
 
 80 LOTHAIK. 
 
 ' 1 have every confidence in Bertram, in his ability and 
 his principles.' 
 
 The ladies began to talk about the approaching Drawing- 
 room and Lady Corisande's presentation, and Lothair thought 
 it right to make his obeisance and withdraw. He met in the 
 hall Father Coleman, who was in fact looking after him, 
 and would have induced him to repair to the Father's room 
 and hold some interesting conversation, but Lothair was 
 not so congenial as usual. He was even abrupt, and the 
 Father, who never pressed anything, assuming that Lothair 
 had some engagement, relinquished with a serene brow, 
 but not without chagrin, what he had deemed might have 
 proved a golden opportunity. 
 
 And yet Lothair had no engagement, and did not know 
 where to go or what to do with himself. But he wanted 
 to be alone, and of all persons in the world at that moment, 
 he had a sort of instinct that the one he wished least to 
 converse with was Father Coleman. 
 
 ' She has every confidence in his principles,' said Lothair 
 to himself as he mounted his horse, ' and his principles 
 were mine six months ago, when I was at Brentham. De- 
 licious Brentham ! It seems like a dream ; but everything 
 seems like a dream : I hardly know whether life is agony 
 or bliss.' 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE Duke was one of the few gentlemen in London who 
 lived in a palace. One of the half dozen of those stately 
 structures that our capital boasts had fallen to his lot. 
 
 An heir apparent to the throne, in the earlier days of the 
 present dynasty, had resolved to be lodged as became a 
 prince, and had raised, amid gardens which he had diverted
 
 LOTHAIB. 81 
 
 from ono of the royal parks, an edifice not unworthy of 
 Vicenza in its best days, though on a far more extensive scale 
 than any pile that favoured city boasts. Before the palace 
 was finished the prince died, and irretrievably in debt. His 
 executors were glad to sell to the trustees of the ancestors 
 of the chief of the house of Brentham the incomplete palace, 
 which ought never to have been commenced. The ancestor 
 of the Duke was by no means so strong a man as the Duke 
 himself, and prudent people rather murmured at the ex- 
 ploit. But it was what is called a lucky family ; that is to 
 say, a family with a charm that always attracted and ab- 
 sorbed heiresses; and perhaps the splendour of CBECY 
 HOUSE, for it always retained its original title, might have 
 in some degree contributed to fascinate the taste or imagina- 
 tion of the beautiful women who, generation after genera, 
 tion, brought their bright castles and their broad manors 
 to swell the state and rent-rolls of the family who were so 
 kind to Lothair. 
 
 The centre of Crecy House consisted of a hall of vast 
 proportion, and reaching to the roof. Its walls com- 
 memorated, in paintings by the most celebrated artists of 
 the age, the exploits of the Black Prince ; and its coved 
 ceiling, in panels resplendent with Venetian gold, was 
 bright with the forms and portraits of English heroes. A 
 corridor round this hall contained the most celebrated 
 private collection of picture* in England, and opened into 
 a series of sumptuous saloons. 
 
 It was a rather early hour when Lothair, the morning 
 after his meeting the Duchess at Lady St. Jerome's, called 
 at Crecy House ; but it was only to leave his card. He 
 would not delay for a moment paying his respects there, 
 and yet he shrank from thrusting himself immediately 
 into the circle. The Duke's brougham was in the C4Qrt- 
 yard. Lothair was holding his groom's horse, who had 
 
 a
 
 82 LOTHAIR. 
 
 dismounted, when the hall-door opened and his Grace and 
 Bertram came forth. 
 
 ' Halloa, old fellow ! ' exclaimed Bertram, ' only think of 
 your being here. It seems an age since we met. The 
 Duchess was telling us about you at breakfast.' 
 
 ' Go in and see them,' said the Duke, ' there is a large 
 party at luncheon ; Victoria Montairy is there. Bertram 
 and I are obliged to go to Lincoln's Inn, something about 
 his election.' 
 
 But Lothair murmured thanks and declined. 
 
 ' What are you going to do with yourself to-day ? ' said 
 the Duke. And Lothair hesitating, his Grace continued : 
 ' Well then, come and dine with us.' 
 
 ' Of course you will come, old fellow. I have not seen 
 you since you left Oxford at the beginning of the year. 
 And then we can settle about your term.' And Lothair 
 consenting, they drove away. 
 
 It was nine o'clock before they dined. The days were 
 getting very long, and soft, and sweet ; the riding parties 
 lingered amid the pink May and the tender twilight breeze. 
 The Montairys dined that day at Crecy House, and a 
 charming married daughter without her husband, and Lord 
 and Lady Clanmorne, who were near kin to the Duchess, 
 and themselves so good-looking and agreeable that they 
 were as good at a dinner-party as a couple of first-rate 
 entrees. There was also Lord Carisbrooke, a young man 
 of distinguished air and appearance ; his own master, 
 with a large estate, and thiee years or so older than 
 Lothair. 
 
 They dined in the Chinese saloon, which was of moderate 
 dimensions, but bright with fantastic forms and colours, 
 brilliantly lit up. It was the privilege of Lothair to hand 
 the Duchess to her seat. He observed that Lord Caris- 
 brooke was placed next to Lady Corisande, though he had 
 not taken her out.
 
 LOTHAIR. 83 
 
 * This dinner reminds me of my visit to Brenthara,' said 
 Lotliair. 
 
 * Almost the same party,' said the Duchess. 
 
 ' The visit to Brentham was the happiest time of my 
 life,' said Lothair moodily. 
 
 ' But you have seen a great deal since,' said the Duchess. 
 
 4 I am not so sure it is of any use seeing things,' said 
 Lothair. 
 
 When the ladies retired, there was some talk about 
 horses. Lord Carisbrooke was breeding ; Lothair thought 
 it was a duty to breed, but not to go on the turf. Lord 
 Carisbrooke thought there could be no good breeding with- 
 out racing; Lothair was of opinion that races might be 
 confined to one's own parks, with no legs admitted, and 
 immense prizes, which must cause emulation. Then they 
 joined the ladies, and then, in a short time, there was 
 music. Lothair hovered about Lady Corisande, and at last 
 seized a happy opportunity of addressing her. 
 
 4 I shall never forget your singing at Brentham,' he said ; 
 ' at first I thought it might be as Lady Montairy said, 
 because I was not used to fine singing ; but I heard the 
 Venusina the other day, and I prefer your voice and 
 style.' 
 
 4 Have you heard the Venusina ? ' said Lady Corisande 
 with animation ; ' I know nothing that I look forward to 
 with more interest. But I was told she was not to open 
 her mouth until she appeared at the Opera. Where did 
 you hear her ? ' 
 
 4 Oh, I heard her,' said Lothair, 4 at the Roman Catholic 
 Catiiedral.' 
 
 4 1 am sure I shall never hear her there,' said Lady 
 Corisande, looking very grave. 
 
 4 Do not you think music a powerful accessory to reli- 
 gion ?' said Lothair, but a little embarrassed. 
 
 * Within certain limits,' said Lady Corisande, 4 the limita 
 
 o a
 
 84 LOTflAIR. 
 
 I am used to ; but I should prefer to Lear Opera singers at 
 the Opera.' 
 
 ' All ! if all amateurs could sing like you,' said Lothair, 
 ' that would be unnecessary. But a fine Mass by Mozart 
 requires great skill as well as power to render it. L 
 admire no one so much as Mozart, and especially his Masses. 
 I have been hearing a great many of them lately.' 
 
 ' So we understood,' said Lady Corisande rather dryly, 
 and looking about her as if she were not much interested, 
 or at any rate not much gratified, by the conversation. 
 
 Lothair felt he was not getting on, and he wished to get 
 on ; but he was socially inexperienced, and his resources 
 not much in hand. There was a pause ; it seemed to him 
 an awkward pause ; and then Lady Corisande walked away 
 and addressed Lady Clanmorne. 
 
 Some very fine singing began at this moment ; the room 
 was hushed, no one moved, and Lothair, undisturbed, had 
 the opportunity of watching his late companion. There 
 was something in Lady Corisande that to him was irre- 
 sistibly captivating ; and as he was always thinking and 
 analysing, he employed himself in discovering the cause. 
 ' She is not particularly gracious,' he said to himself, ' at 
 least not to me ; she is beautiful, but so are others ; and 
 others, like her, are clever, perhaps more clever. But 
 there is something in her brow, her glance, her carriage, 
 which indicates what they call character, and interests me. 
 Six months ago I was in love with her, because I thought 
 she was like her sisters. I love her sisters, but she is not 
 the least like them.' 
 
 The music ceased ; Lothair moved away, and he ap- 
 proached the Duke. 
 
 ' I have a favour to ask your Grace,' he said. ' I have 
 made up my mind that I shall not go back to Oxford this 
 term ; would you do me the great favour of presenting mo 
 at the next Levee ? '
 
 LOTHAIB. 85 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Omc's life changes in a moment. Half a month ago, Lo- 
 thair, without an acquaintance, was meditating his return 
 to Oxford. Now he seemed to know everybody who was 
 anybody. His table was overflowing with invitations to 
 all the fine houses in town. First came the routs and the 
 balls ; then, when he had been presented to the husbands, 
 came the dinners. His kind friends the Duchess and Lady 
 St. Jerome were the fairies who had worked this sudden 
 scene of enchantment. A single word from them, and 
 London was at Lothair's feet. 
 
 He liked it amazingly. He quite forgot the conclusion 
 at which he had arrived respecting society a year ago, 
 drawn from his vast experience of the single party which 
 he had then attended. Feelings are different when you 
 know a great many persons, and every person is trying to 
 please you ; above all, when there are individuals whom 
 you want to meet, and whom, if you do not meet, you be- 
 come restless. 
 
 Town was beginning to blaze. Broughams whirled and 
 bright barouches glanced, troops of social cavalry cantered 
 and caracolled in morning rides, and the bells of prancing 
 ponies, lashed by delicate hands, gingled in the laughing 
 air. There were stoppages in Bond Street, which seems 
 to cap the climax of civilisation, after crowded clubs and 
 Bwarming parks. 
 
 But the great event of the season was the presentation 
 of Lady Corisande. Truly our bright maiden of Brentham 
 woke and found herself famous. There are families whom 
 everybody praises, and families who are treated in a dif- 
 ferent way. Either will do ; all the sons and daughters 
 of the first succeed, all the sons and daughters of tlio
 
 86 LOTHAIR 
 
 last are encouraged in perversene'ss by the prophetic 
 determination of society. Half a dozen married sisters, 
 who were the delight and ornament of their circles, in 
 the case of Lady Corisande were good precursors of popu- 
 larity ; but the world would not be content with that : they 
 credited her with all their charms and winning qualities, 
 but also with something grander and beyond comparison ; 
 and from the moment her fair cheek was sealed by the 
 gracious approbation of Majesty, all the critics of the Court 
 at once recognised her as the cynosure of the Empyrean. 
 
 Monsignore Catesby, who looked after Lothair, and was 
 always breakfasting with him without the necessity of an 
 invitation (a fascinating man, and who talked upon all sub- 
 jects except High Mass), knew everything that took place 
 at Court without being present there himself. He led the 
 conversation to the majestic theme, and while he seemed to 
 be busied in breaking an egg with delicate precision, and 
 hardly listening to the frank expression of opinions which 
 he carelessly encouraged, obtained a not insufficient share 
 of Lothair's views and impressions of human beings and 
 affairs in general during the last few days, which had wit- 
 nessed a Levee and a Drawing-room. 
 
 ' Ah ! then you were so fortunate as to know the beauty 
 before her debut,' said the Monsignore. 
 
 ' Intimately ; her brother is my friend. I was at Brent- 
 ham last summer. Delicious place ! and the most agreeable 
 visit I ever made in my life, at least, one of the most agree- 
 able.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ah ! ' said the Monsignore. ' Let me ring for some 
 toast.' 
 
 On the night of the Drawing-room, a great ball was given 
 at Crecy House to celebrate the entrance of Corisande into 
 the world. It was a sumptuous festival. The palace, re- 
 sonant with fantastic music, blazed amid illumined gardens 
 rich with summer warmth.
 
 LOTHAIK. 87 
 
 A prince of the blood was dancing with Lady Corisande. 
 Lothair was there, vis-a-vis with Miss Amndel. 
 
 ' I delight in this hall,' she said to Lothair ; ' but how 
 superior the pictured scene to the reality ! ' 
 
 ' What ! would you like, then, to be in a battle ? ' 
 
 ' I should like to be with heroes, wherever they might be. 
 What a fine character- was the Black Prince ! And they 
 call those days the days of superstition ! ' 
 
 The silver horns sounded a brave flourish. Lothair had 
 to advance and meet Lady Corisande. Her approaching 
 mien was full of grace and majesty, but Lothair thought 
 there was a kind expression in her glance, which seemed 
 to remember Brentham, and that he was her brother's 
 friend. 
 
 A little later in the evening he was her partner. He 
 could not refrain from congratulating her on the beauty 
 and the success of the festival. 
 
 ' I am glad you are pleased, and I am glad you think it 
 successful ; but, you know, I am no judge, for this is my 
 first ball!' 
 
 1 Ah ! to be sure ; and yet it seems impossible,' he con- 
 tinued, in a tone of murmuring admiration. 
 
 ' Oh ! I have been at little dances at my sisters ;' half 
 behind the door,' she added, with a slight smile. 'But 
 to-night I am present at a scene of which I have only 
 read.' 
 
 ' And how do you like balls ? ' said Lothair. 
 
 'I think I shall like them yery much,' said Lady 
 Corisande ; ' but to-night, I will confess, I am a little 
 nervous.' 
 
 ' You do not look so.' 
 
 'I am glad of that' 
 
 'Why?' 
 
 ' Is it not a sign of weakness? ' 
 
 ' Can feeling be weakness P '
 
 88 LOTHAIK 
 
 ' Feeling without sufficient cause is, I should think.' 
 And then, and in a tone of some archness, she said, ' And 
 how do you like balls ? ' 
 
 ' Well, I like them amazingly,' said Lothair. ' They 
 seem to me to have every quality which can render an 
 entertainment agreeable: music, light, flowers, beautiful 
 faces, graceful forms, and occasionally charming conversa^ 
 tion.' 
 
 'Yes ; and that never lingers,' said Lady Corisande, ' for 
 see, I am wanted.' 
 
 When they were again undisturbed, Lothair regretted 
 the absence of Bertram, who was kept at the House. 
 
 ' It is a great disappointment,' said Lady Corisande ; ' but 
 he will yet arrive, though late. I should be most unhappy 
 though, if he were absent from his post on such an occasion 
 I am sure if he were here I could not dance.' 
 
 ' You are a most ardent politician,' said Lothair. 
 
 1 Oh ! I do not care in the least about common politics, 
 parties and office and all that ; I neither regard nor under- 
 stand them,' replied Lady Corisande. ' But when wicked 
 men try to destroy the country, then I like my family to 
 be in the front.' 
 
 As the destruction of the country meditated this night 
 by wicked men was some change in the status of the 
 Church of England, which Monsignore Catesby in the 
 morning had suggested to Lothair as both just and expe- 
 dient and highly conciliatory, Lothair did not pursue the 
 theme, for he had a greater degree of tact than usually falls 
 to the lot of the ingenuous. 
 
 The bright moments flew on. Suddenly there was a 
 mysterious silence in the hall, followed by a kind of sup- 
 pressed stir. Everyone seemed to be speaking with bated 
 breath, or, if moving, walking on tiptoe. It was the supper 
 hour: 
 
 Soft hour which wakes the wish and melts the heart.
 
 LOTHAIB. 85 
 
 Royalty, followed by the imperial presence of ambas- 
 sadors, and escorted by a group of dazzling duchesses and 
 paladins of high degree, was ushered with courteous pomp 
 by the host and hostess into a choice saloon, hung with 
 rose-coloured tapestry and illumined by chandeliers of 
 crystal, where they were served from gold plate. But the 
 thousand less favoured were not badly off, when they found 
 themselves in the more capacious chambers, into which 
 they rushed with an eagerness hardly in keeping with the 
 splendid nonchalance of the preceding hours. 
 
 ' Wliat a perfect family,' exclaimed Hugo Bohun, as he 
 extracted a couple of fat little birds from their bed of 
 aspic jelly ; ' everything they do in such perfect taste. 
 How safe you were here to have ortolans for supper ! ' 
 
 All the little round tables, though their number wag 
 infinite, were full. Male groups hung about ; some in 
 attendance on fair dames, some foraging for themselves, 
 eorne thoughtful and more patient and awaiting a satis- 
 factory future. Never was such an elegant clatter. 
 
 ' I wonder where Carisbrooke is,' said Hugo Bohun. 
 ' They say he is wonderfully taken with the beauteous 
 daughter of the house.' 
 
 ' I will back the Duke of Brecon against him,' said one 
 of his companions. ' He raved about her at White's 
 yesterday.' 
 
 'Hem!' 
 
 ' The end is not so near as all that,' said a third 
 was sailer. 
 
 ' I do not know that,' said Hugo Bohun. * It is a family 
 that marries off quickly. If a fellow is obliged to marry, 
 he always likes to marry one of them.' 
 
 4 What of this new star ? ' said his friend, and he men- 
 tioned Lothair. 
 
 ' Oh ! he is too young ; not launched. Besides he is 
 going to turn Catholic, and I doubt whether that would do 
 in that quarter.'
 
 90 LOTHATR. 
 
 ' But he has a greater fortune than any of them.' 
 
 ' Immense ! A man I know, who knows another 
 
 man ' and then he began a long statistical story about 
 
 Lothair's resources. 
 
 ' Have you got any room here, Hugo ? ' drawled out 
 Lord St. Aldegonde. 
 
 * Plenty, and here is my chair.' 
 
 ' On no account ; half of it and some soup will satisfy me.' 
 
 ' I should have thought you would have been with the 
 swells,' said Hugo Bohun. 
 
 ' That does not exactly suit me,' said St. Aldegonde. 
 ' I was ticketed to the Duchess of Salop, but I got a first- 
 rate substitute with the charm of novelty for her Grace, 
 and sent her in with Lothair.' 
 
 St. Aldegonde was the heir apparent of the wealthiest, if 
 not the most ancient, dukedom in the United Kingdom. 
 He was spoiled, but he knew it. Had he been an ordinary 
 being, he would have merely subsided into selfishness and 
 caprice, but having good abilities and a good disposition, 
 he was eccentric, adventurous, and sentimental. Notwith- 
 standing the apathy which had been engendered by pre- 
 mature experience, St. Aldegonde held extreme opinions, 
 especially on political affairs, being a republican of the 
 reddest dye. He was opposed to all privilege, and indeed 
 to all orders of men, except dukes, who were a necessity 
 He was also strongly in favour of the equal division of all 
 property, except land. Liberty depended on land, and the 
 greater the landowners, the greater the liberty of a country. 
 He would hold forth on this topic even with energy, amazed 
 at anyone differing from him ; ' as if a fellow could have too 
 much land,' he would urge with a voice and glance which 
 defied contradiction. St. Aldegonde had married for love, 
 and he loved his wife, but he was strongly in favour of 
 woman's rights and their extremest consequences. It was 
 thought that he had originally adopted these latter views
 
 LOTHAJR. 91 
 
 with the amiable intention of piquing Lady St. Aldegonde ; 
 but if so, he had not succeeded. Beaming with brightness, 
 with the voice and airiness of a bird, and a cloudless 
 temper, Albertha St. Aldegonde had, from the first hour of 
 her marriage, concentrated her intelligence, which was not 
 mean, on one object; and that was never to cross her 
 husband on any conceivable topic. They had been married 
 several years, and she treated him as a darling spoiled 
 child. When he cried for the moon, it was promised him 
 immediately ; however irrational his proposition, she always 
 assented to it, though generally by tact and vigilance she 
 guided him in the right direction. Nevertheless, St. Aide- 
 gonde was sometimes in scrapes ; but then he always went 
 and told his best friend, whose greatest delight was to 
 extricate him from his perplexities and embarrassments. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 ALTHOUGH Lothair was not in the slightest degree shaken 
 in his conviction that life should be entirely religious, he 
 was perplexed by the inevitable obstacles which seemed 
 perpetually to oppose themselves to the practice of his 
 opinions. It was not merely pleasure in its multiform ap- 
 pearances that he had to contend against, but business 
 began imperiously to solicit his attention. Every month 
 brought him nearer to his majority, and the frequent letters 
 from Mr. Putney Giles now began to assume the pressing 
 shape of solicitations for personal interviews. He had 
 a long conversation one morning with Father Coleman on 
 this subject, who greatly relieved him by the assurance 
 that a perfectly religious life was one of which the sove- 
 reign purpose was to uphold the interests of the Church ; 
 of Christ, the Father added after a momentary pause.
 
 92 LOTHAIB. 
 
 Business, and even amusement, were not only compatible 
 with such a purpose, but might even be conducive to its 
 fulfilment. 
 
 Mr. Putney Giles reminded Lothair that the attainment 
 of his majority must be celebrated, and in a becoming 
 manner. Preparation, and even considerable preparation, 
 was necessary. There were several scenes of action ; some 
 very distant. It was not too early to contemplate arrange- 
 ments. Lothair really must confer with his guardians. 
 They were both now in town, the Scotch uncle having 
 come up to attend Parliament. Could they be brought 
 together ? Was it indeed impossible ? If so, who was to 
 give the necessary instructions ? 
 
 It was much more than a year since Lothair had met his 
 uncle, and he did not anticipate much satisfaction from the 
 renewal of their intimacy ; but every feeling of propriety 
 demanded that it should be recognised, and to a certain 
 degree revived. Lord Culloden was a black Scotchman, 
 tall and lean, with good features, a hard red face and iron 
 grey hair. He was a man who shrank from scenes, and 
 he greeted Lothair as if they had only parted yesterday. 
 Looking at him with his keen, unsentimental, but not 
 unkind eye, he said, ' Well, sir, I thought you would have 
 been at Oxford.' 
 
 ' Yes, my dear uncle ; but circumstances ' 
 
 ' Well, well, I don't want to hear the cause. I am very 
 glad you are not there ; I believe you might as well be at 
 Rome.' 
 
 And then in due course, and after some talk of the past 
 and old times, Lothair referred to the suggestions of Mr. 
 Giles, and hinted at a meeting of his guardians to confer 
 and advise together. 
 
 ' No, no,' said the Scotch peer, shaking his head ; ' I will 
 have nothing to do with the Scarlet Lady. Mr. Giles is an 
 able and worthy man ; he may well be trusted to draw up
 
 i^OTHAIR. 93 
 
 a programme for our \jonsideration, and indeed it is an 
 affair in which yourself should be most consulted. Let all 
 be done liberally, for you have a great inheritance, and I 
 would be no curmudgeon in these matters.' 
 
 ' Well, my dear uncle, whatever is arranged, I hope you 
 and my cousins will honour and gratify me with your 
 presence throughout the proceedings.' 
 
 ' Well, well, it is not much in my way. You will be 
 having balls and fine ladies. There is no fool like an old 
 fool, they say ; but I think, from what I hear, the young 
 fools will beat us in the present day. Only think of young 
 persons going over to the Church of Rome. Why, they 
 are just naturals ! ' 
 
 The organising genius of Mr. Putney Giles had rarely 
 encountered a more fitting theme than the celebration of 
 the impending majority. There was place for all his 
 energy and talent and resources : a great central inaugura- 
 tion ; sympathetical festivals and gatherings in half a 
 dozen other counties ; the troth, as it were, of a sister 
 kingdom to be pledged ; a vista of balls and banquets, and 
 illuminations and addresses, of ceaseless sports and speeches, 
 and processions alike endless. 
 
 ' What I wish to effect,' said Mr. Giles, as he was giving 
 his multifarious orders, ' is to produce among all classes an 
 impression adequate to the occasion. I wish the lord and 
 the tenantry alike to feel they have a duty to perform.' 
 
 In the meantime, Monsignore Catesby was pressing 
 Lothair to become one of the patrons of a Roman Catholic 
 Bazaar, where Lady St. Jerome and Miss Arundel were to 
 preside over a stall. It was of importance to show that 
 charity was not the privilege of any particular creed. 
 
 Between his lawyers, and his monsignorcs, and his 
 architects, Lothair began to get a little harassed. He was 
 disturbed in hia own mind, too, on greater matters, and 
 seemed to feel every day that it was more necessary to take
 
 94 LOTHALK. 
 
 a decided step, aud more impossible to decide upon what 
 it should be. He frequently saw the Cardinal, who was 
 very kind to him, but who had become more reserved on 
 religious subjects. He had dined more than once with his 
 Eminence, and had met some distinguished prelates and 
 some of his fellow nobles who had been weaned from the 
 errors of their cradle. The Cardinal perhaps thought 
 that the presence of these eminent converts would facili- 
 tate the progress, perhaps the decision, of his ward ; but 
 something seemed always to happen to divert Lothair in 
 bis course. It might be sometimes apparently a very 
 slight cause, but yet for the time sufficient ; a phrase of 
 Lady Corisande for example, who, though, she never di- 
 rectly addressed him on the subject, was nevertheless 
 deeply interested in his spiritual condition. 
 
 ' You ought to speak to him, Bertram,' she said one day 
 to her brother very indignantly, as she read a fresh, para- 
 graph alluding to an impending conversion. ' You are his 
 friend. What is the use of friendship, if not in such a 
 crisis as this ? ' 
 
 * I see no use in speaking to a man about love or religion,' 
 said Bertram ; ' they are both stronger than friendship. 
 If there be any foundation for the paragraph, my inter- 
 ference would be of no avail ; if there be none, I should 
 only make myself ridiculous.' 
 
 Nevertheless, Bertram looked a little more after his 
 friend, and disturbing the Monsignore, who was at break- 
 fast with Lothair one morning, Bertram obstinately out- 
 stayed the priest, and then said : ' I tell you what, old 
 fellow, you are rather hippish ; I wish you were in the 
 House of Commons.' 
 
 ' So do I,' said Lothair, with a sigh ; ' but I have come 
 into everything ready-made. I begin to think it very 
 unfortunate.' 
 
 * What are you going to do with yourself to-day ? If you
 
 LOTHAIE. 95 
 
 be disengaged, I vote we dine together at White's, and then 
 we will go down to the House. I will take you to the 
 smoking-room and introduce you to Bright, and we will 
 trot him out on primogeniture.' 
 
 At this moment the servant brought Lothair two letters ; 
 one was an epistle from Father Coleman, meeting Lothair' a 
 objections to becoming a patron of the Roman Catholic 
 Bazaar in a very unctuous and exhaustive manner ; and 
 the other from his stud-groom at Oxford, detailing some of 
 those disagreeable things which will happen with absent 
 masters who will not answer letters. Lothair loved his 
 stable, and felt particularly anxious to avoid the threatened 
 visit of Father Coleman on the morrow. His decision was 
 rapid. ' I must go down this afternoon to Oxford, my deal 
 fellow. My stable is in confusion. I shall positively 
 return to-morrow, and I will dine with you at White's, and 
 we will go to the House of Commons together or go to 
 the play.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 LOTHAIK'S stables were about three miles from Oxford. 
 They were a rather considerable establishment, in which he 
 had taken much interest, and having always intended to 
 return to Oxford in the early part of the year, although he 
 had occasionally sent for a hack or two to London, his stud 
 had been generally maintained. 
 
 The morning after his arrival, he rode over to the 
 stables, where he had ordered his drag to be ready. About 
 a quarter of a mile before he reached his place of destina- 
 tion he observed at some little distance a crowd in the road, 
 and, hastening on, perceived as he drew nearer a number 
 of men clustered round a dismantled vehicle, and vainly
 
 96 LOTHAIR. 
 
 endeavouring to extricate and raise a fallen horse ; its com- 
 panion, panting and foaming, with broken harness but 
 apparently uninjured, standing aside and held by a boy. 
 Somewhat apart stood a lady alone. Lothair immediately 
 dismounted and approached her, saying, ' I fear you are in 
 trouble, madam. Perhaps I may be of service ? ' 
 
 The lady was rather tall and of a singularly distinguished 
 presence. Her air and her costume alike intimated high 
 breeding and fashion. She seemed quite serene amid the 
 tumult and confusion, and apparently the recent danger. 
 As Lothair spoke, she turned her head to him, which had 
 been at first a little averted, and he beheld a striking coun- 
 tenance, but one which he instantly felt he did not see for 
 the first time. 
 
 She bowed with dignity to Lothair, and said in a low 
 but distinct voice, ' You are most courteous, sir. We have 
 had a sad accident, but a great escape. Our horses ran 
 away with us, and had it not been for that heap of stones I 
 do not see how we could have been saved.' 
 
 ' Fortunately my stables are at hand,' said Lothair, ' and 
 I have a carriage waiting for me at this moment, not a 
 quarter of a mile away. It is at your service, and I will 
 send for it ;' and his groom, to whom he gave directions, 
 galloped off. 
 
 There was a shout as the fallen horse was on his legs 
 again, much cut, and the carriage shattered and useless. A 
 gentleman came from the crowd and approached the lady. 
 He was tall and fair and not ill-favoured, with fine dark 
 eyes and high cheek bones, and still young, though an 
 enormous beard at the first glance gave him an impression 
 of years the burthen of which he really did not bear. His 
 dress, though not vulgar, was richer and more showy than 
 is usual in this country, and altogether there was some- 
 thing in his manner which, though calm and full of self- 
 respect, was different from the conventional refinement of
 
 LOTHAIR. 97 
 
 England. Yet he was apparently an Englishman, as he 
 said to the lady, ' It is a bad business, but we must be 
 thankful it is no worse. What troubles me is how you are 
 to get back. It will be a terrible walk over these stony 
 roads, and I can hear of no conveyance.' 
 
 ' My husband,' said the lady, as with dignity she pre- 
 sented the person to Lothair. 'This gentleman,' she 
 continued, 'has most kindly offered us the use of his 
 carriage, which is almost at hand.' 
 
 ' Sir, you are a friend,' said the gentleman. ' I thought 
 there were no horses that I could not master, but it seems 
 I am mistaken. I bought these only yesterday ; took a 
 fancy to them as we were driving about, and bought them 
 of a dealer in the road.' 
 
 ' That seems a clever animal,' said Lothair, pointing to 
 the one uninjured. 
 
 ' Ah ! you like horses ? ' said the gentleman. 
 
 * Well, I have some taste that way.' 
 
 ' We are visitors to Oxford,' said the lady. ' Colonel 
 Campian, like all Americans, is very interested in the 
 ancient parts of England.' 
 
 ' To-day we were going to Blenheim,' said the Colonel ; 
 ' but I thought I would try these new tits a bit on a by- 
 road first.' 
 
 ' All's well that ends well,' said Lothair ; ' and there is 
 no reason why you should n^t fulfil your intention of going 
 to Blenheim, for here is my carriage, and it is entirely at 
 your service for the whole day, and, indeed, as long as you 
 stay at Oxford.' 
 
 ' Sir, there requires no coronet on your carriage to tell 
 me you are a nobleman,' said the Colonel. ' I like frank 
 manners, and I like your team. I know few things that 
 would please me more than to try them.' 
 
 They were four roans, highly bred, with black rnanea 
 B
 
 98 LOTHAIR. 
 
 and tails. They had the Arab eye, with arched necks, and 
 seemed proud of themselves and their master. 
 
 ' I do not see why we should not go to Blenheim,' said 
 the Colonel. 
 
 ' Well, not to-day,' said the lady, ' I think. We have had 
 an escape, but one feels these things a little more after- 
 wards than at the time. I would rather go back to Oxford 
 and be quiet ; and there is more than one college which 
 you have not yet seen.' 
 
 ' My team is entirely at your service wherever you go,' 
 said Lothair ; ' but I cannot venture to drive you to Ox- 
 ford, for I am there in statu pupillari, and a proctor might 
 arrest us all. But perhaps,' and he approached the lady, 
 ' you will permit me to call on you to-morrow, when I hope 
 I may find you have not suffered by this misadventure.' 
 
 ' We have got a professor dining with us to-day at seven 
 o'clock,' said the Colonel, ' at our hotel ; and if you are dis- 
 engaged and would join the party, you would add to the 
 favours which you know so well how to confer.' 
 
 Lothair handed the lady into the carriage, the Colonel 
 mounted the box and took the ribbons like a master, and 
 the four roans trotted away with their precious charge and 
 their two grooms behind with folded arms and impertur- 
 bable countenances. 
 
 Lothair watched the equipage until it vanished in the 
 distance. 
 
 ' It is impossible to forget that countenance,' he said ; 
 ' and I fancy I did hear at the time that she had married 
 an American. Well, I shall meet her at dinner, that is 
 something.' And he sprang into his saddle.
 
 LOTHATB. 99 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE Oxford Professor, who was the guest of the American 
 Colonel, was quite a young man, of advanced opinions on 
 all subjects, religious, social, and political. He was clever, 
 extremely well-informed, so far as books can make a man 
 knowing, but unable to profit even by that limited experi- 
 ence of life from a restless vanity and overflowing conceit, 
 which prevented him from ever observing or thinking of 
 anything but himself. He was gifted with a great command 
 of words, which took the form of endless exposition, varied 
 by sarcasm and passages of ornate jargon. He was the last 
 person one would have expected to recognise in an Oxford 
 professor ; but we live in times of transition. 
 
 A Parisian man of science, who had passed his life 
 in alternately fighting at barricades and discovering 
 planets, had given Colonel Campian, who had lived much 
 in the French capital, a letter of introduction to the Pro- 
 fessor, whose invectives against the principles of English 
 society were hailed by foreigners as representative of the 
 sentiments of venerable Oxford. The Professor, who was 
 not satisfied with his home career, and, like many men of 
 his order of mind, had dreams of wild vanity which 
 the New World, they think, can alone realise, was very 
 glad to make the Colonel's acquaintance, which might 
 facilitate his future movements. So he had lionised the 
 distinguished visitors during the last few days over the 
 University, and had availed himself of plenteous opportuni- 
 ties for exhibiting to them his celebrated powers of exposi- 
 tion, his talent for sarcasm, which he deemed peerless, and 
 several highly finished picturesque passages, which were 
 introduced with extemporary art. 
 
 w U
 
 100 LOTHAIK. 
 
 The Professor was much surprised wheii he saw Lothair 
 enter the saloon at the hotel. He was the last person 
 in Oxford whom he expected to encounter. Like seden- 
 tary men of extreme opinions, he was a social parasite, 
 and instead of indulging in his usual invectives against 
 peers and princes, finding himself unexpectedly about to 
 dine with one of that class, he was content only to dazzle 
 and amuse him. 
 
 Mrs. Campian only entered the room when dinner was 
 announced. She greeted Lothair with calmness but amen- 
 ity, and took his offered arm. 
 
 ' You have not suffered, I hope ? ' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Very little, and through your kindness.' 
 
 It was a peculiar voice, low and musical, too subdued to 
 call thrilling, but a penetrating voice, BO that however 
 ordinary the observation it attracted and impressed atten- 
 tion. But it was in harmony with all her appearance and 
 manner. Lothair thought he had never seen anyone or 
 anything so serene ; the serenity, however, not of humble- 
 ness, nor of merely conscious innocence ; it was not devoid 
 of a degree of majesty ; what one pictures of Olympian 
 repose. And the countenance was Olympian : a Phidian 
 face, with large grey eyes and dark lashes ; wonderful 
 hair, abounding without art, and gathered together by 
 Grecian fillets. 
 
 The talk was of Oxford, and was at first chiefly main- 
 tained by the Colonel and the Professor. 
 
 'And do you share Colonel Campian's feeling about Old 
 England ? ' enquired Lothair of his hostess. 
 
 ' The present interests me more than the past,' said the 
 lady, ' and the future more than the present.' 
 
 ' The present seems to me as unintelligible as the future,' 
 said Lothair. 
 
 'I think it is intelligible,' said the lady, with a faint 
 smile. ' It has many faults, but not, I think, the want of 
 clearness.'
 
 LOTHAIB. 101 
 
 ' I am not a destructive,' said the Professor, addressing 
 the Colonel but speaking loudly ; ' I would maintain 
 Oxford under any circumstances "with the necessary 
 changes.' 
 
 ' And what are those, might I ask ? ' enquired Lothair. 
 
 ' In reality not much. I would get rid of the religion.' 
 
 ' Get rid of the religion ! ' said Lothair. 
 
 * You have got rid of it once,' said the Professor. 
 
 ' You have altered, you have what people call reformed 
 it,' said Lothair, ' but you have not abolished or banished 
 it from the University.' 
 
 'The shock would not be greater, nor so great, as the 
 change from the Papal to the Reformed Faith. Besides, 
 Universities have nothing to do with religion.' 
 
 ' I thought Universities were universal,' said Lothair, 
 ' and had something to do with everything.' 
 
 ' I cannot conceive any society of any kind without 
 religion,' said the lady. 
 
 Lothair glanced at her beautiful brow with devotion as 
 she uttered these words. 
 
 Colonel Campian began to talk about horses. After that 
 the Professor proved to him that he was related to Edmund 
 Campian the Jesuit ; and then he got to the Gunpowder 
 Plot, which he was not sure, if successful, might not have 
 beneficially influenced the course of our history. Probably 
 the Irish difficulty would not then have existed. 
 
 ' I dislike plots,' said the lady ; ' they always fail.' 
 
 'And whatever their object, are they not essentially 
 immoral ? ' said Lothair. 
 
 ' I have more faith in ideas than in persons,' said the 
 lady. ' When a truth is uttered, it will sooner or later be 
 recognised. It is only an affair of time. It is better that 
 it should mature and naturally germinate than be forced.' 
 
 'You would reduce us to lotus-eaters,' exclaimed the 
 Professor. ' Action is natural to man. And what, after
 
 102 LOTHAIR. 
 
 all, are conspiracies and revolutions but great principles in 
 violent action ? ' 
 
 ' I think you must be an admirer of repose,' said Lothair 
 to the lady, in a low voice. 
 
 ' Because I have seen something of action in my life,' 
 said the lady, ' and it is an experience of wasted energies 
 and baffled thoughts.' 
 
 When, they returned to the saloon, the Colonel and the 
 Professor became interested in the constitution and dis- 
 cipline of the American Universities. Lothair hung aboui 
 the lady, who was examining some views of Oxford, and 
 who was ascertaining what she had seen and what she had 
 omitted to visit. They were thinking of returning home 
 on the morrow. 
 
 ' Without seeing Blenheim ? ' said Lothair. 
 
 * Without seeing Blenheim,' said the lady ; ' I confess to 
 a pang ; but I shall always associate with that name youi 
 great kindness to us.' 
 
 ' But cannot we for once enter into a conspiracy together,' 
 said Lothair, ' and join in a happy plot and contrive to go ? 
 Besides I could take you to the private gardens, for the 
 Duke has given me a perpetual order, and they are really 
 exquisite.' 
 
 The lady seemed to smile. 
 
 ' Theodora,' said the Colonel, speaking from the end of 
 the room, ' what have you settled about your train to- 
 morrow ? ' 
 
 ' We want to stay another day here,' said Theodora, ' and 
 go to Blenheim.'
 
 LOTHAIK. 103 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THEY were in the private gardens at Blenheim. The STin 
 was brilliant over the ornate and yet picturesque scene. 
 
 ' Beautiful, is it not ? ' exclaimed Lothair. 
 
 ' Yes, certainly beautiful,' said Theodora. ' But, do yon 
 know, I do not feel altogether content in these fine gardens. 
 The principle of exclusion on which they are all founded is 
 to me depressing. I require in all things sympathy. You 
 would not agree with me in this. The manners of your 
 country are founded on exclusion.' 
 
 ' But surely there are times and places when one would 
 like to be alone ? ' 
 
 ' Without doubt,' said the lady, ' only I do not like arti- 
 ficial loneliness. Even your parks, which all the world 
 praises, do not quite satisfy me. I prefer a forest where all 
 may go, even the wild beasts.' 
 
 ' But forests are not at command,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' So you make a solitude and call it peace,' said the lady, 
 with a slight smile. ' For my part, my perfect life would 
 be a large and beautiful village. I admire nature, but I 
 require the presence of humanity. Life in great cities is 
 too exhausting; but in my village there should be air, 
 streams, and beautiful trees, a picturesque scene, but enough 
 of my fellow-creatures to ensure constant duty.' 
 
 ' But the fulfilment of duty and society founded on what 
 you call the principle of exclusion, are not incompatible,' 
 said Lothair. 
 
 No, but difficult. What should be natural becomes an art ; 
 and in every art it is only the few who can be first-rate.' 
 
 * I have an ambition to be a first-rate artist in that ro- 
 spect,' said Lothair thoughtfully.
 
 104 LOTHAFR. 
 
 'That does yon much honour,' she replied, 'for yon 
 necessarily embark in a most painful enterprise. The toil- 
 ing multitude have their sorrows which, I believe, will 
 some day be softened, and obstacles hard to overcome ; but 
 I have always thought that the feeling of satiety, almost 
 inseparable from large possessions, is a surer cause of misery 
 than ungratified desires.' 
 
 * It seems to me that there is a great deal to do,' said 
 Loth air. 
 
 ' I think so,' said the lady. 
 
 "Theodora,' said the Colonel, who was a little in advance 
 with the Professor, and turning round his head, ' this re- 
 minds me of Mirabel,' and he pointed to the undulating 
 banks covered with rare shrubs and touching the waters of 
 the lake. 
 
 ' And where is Mirabel ? ' said Lothair. 
 
 ' It was a green island in the Adriatic,' said the lady, 
 1 which belonged to Colonel Campian ; we lost it in the 
 troubles. Colonel Campian was very fond of it. I try to 
 persuade him that our home was of volcanic origin, and has 
 only vanished and subsided into its native bed.' 
 
 ' And were not you fond of it ? ' 
 
 ' I never think of the past,' said the lady. 
 
 ' Oxford is not the first place where I had the pleasure 
 of meeting you,' Lothair ventured at length to observe. 
 
 * Yes, we have met before, in Hyde Park Gardens. Our 
 hostess is a clever woman, and has been very kind to some 
 friends of mine.' 
 
 ' And have you seen her lately ? ' 
 
 ' She comes to see us sometimes. We do not live in 
 London, but in the vicinity. We only go to London for 
 the Opera, of which we are devotees. We do not at all 
 enter general society ; Colonel Campian only likes people 
 who interest or amuse him, and he is fortunate in having 
 rather a numerous acquaintance of that kind.'
 
 LOTHAIR. 105 
 
 * Bare fortune ! ' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Colonel Campian lived a great deal at Paris before we 
 married,' said the lady, ' and in a circle of considerable 
 culture and excitement. He is social, but cot conven- 
 tional/ 
 
 'And you, are yon conventional ?' 
 
 ' Well, I live only for climate and the affections,' said 
 the lady. ' I am fond of society that pleases me, that is 
 accomplished and natural and ingenious ; otherwise I 
 prefer being alone. As for atmosphere, as I look upon it 
 as the main source of felicity, you may be surprised that I 
 should reside in your country. I should myself like to go 
 to America, but that -would not suit Colonel Campian ; and 
 if we are to live in Europe we must live in England. It is 
 not pleasant to reside in a country where, if you happen 
 to shelter or succour a friend, you may be subject to a 
 domiciliary visit.' 
 
 The Professor stopped to deliver a lecture or address on 
 the villa of Hadrian. Nothing could be more minute or 
 picturesque than his description of that celebrated plea- 
 eaunce. It was varied by portraits of the Emperor and 
 some of his companions, and, after a rapid glance at the 
 fortunes of the imperial patriciate, wound up with some 
 conclusions favourable to communism. It was really very 
 clever, and would have made the fortune of a literary society. 
 
 *I wonder if they had gravel walks in the villa of 
 Hadrian,' said the ColoneL * What I admire most in your 
 country, my Lord, are your gravel walks, though that lady 
 would not agree with me in that matter.' 
 
 ' You are against gravel walks,' said Lothair. 
 
 * Well, I cannot bring myself to believe that they had 
 gravel walks in. the garden of Eden,' said the lady. 
 
 They had a repast at Woodstock, too late for luncheon, 
 too early for dinner, but which it was agreed should serve 
 as the latter meaL
 
 106 LOTIIAIR. 
 
 ' That suits me exactly,' said the lady ; ' I am a great 
 foe to dinners, and indeed to all meals. I think when the 
 good time comes we shall give up eating in public, except 
 perhaps fruit on a green bank with music.' 
 
 It was a rich twilight as they drove home, the lady 
 leaning back in the carriage silent. Lothair sat opposite 
 to her, and gazed upon a countenance on which the moon 
 began to glisten, and which seemed unconscious of all 
 human observation. 
 
 He had read of such countenances in Grecian dreams : 
 in Corinthian temples, in fanes of Ephesus, in the radiant 
 shadow of divine groves. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 WHEN they had arrived at the hotel, Colonel Campian pro- 
 posed that they should come in and have some coffee, but 
 Theodora did not enforce this suggestion, and Lothair 
 feeling that she might be wearied gracefully, though un- 
 willingly, waved the proposal. Remembering that on the 
 noon of the morrow they were to depart, with a happy 
 inspiration, as he said farewell, he asked permission to ac- 
 company them to the station. 
 
 Lothair walked away with the Professor, who seemed in 
 a conservative vein, and graciously disposed to make seve- 
 ral concessions to the customs of an ancient country. 
 Though opposed to the land laws, he would operate 
 gradually, and gave Lothair more than one receipt how 
 to save the aristocracy. Lothair would have preferred 
 talking about the lady they had just quitted, but as he 
 soon found the Professor could really give him no informa- 
 tion about her he let the subject drop.
 
 LOTHATB. 107 
 
 But not out of his own mind. He was glad to be alone 
 and brood over the last two days. They were among the 
 most interesting of his life. He had encountered a cha- 
 racter different from any he had yet met, had listened to 
 new views, and his intelligence had been stimulated by 
 remarks made casually in easy conversation, and yet to 
 him pregnant with novel and sometimes serious meaning. 
 The voice, too, lingered in his ear, so hushed and deep and 
 yet so clear and sweet. He leant over his mantelpiece in 
 teeming reverie. 
 
 'And she is profoundly religious,' ho said to himself; 
 ' she can conceive no kind of society without religion. She 
 has arrived at the same conclusion as myself. What a 
 privilege it would be to speak to her on such subjects !' 
 
 ' After a restless night the morrow came. About eleven 
 o'clock Lothair ventured to call on his new friends. The 
 lady was alone ; she was standing by the window reading 
 an Italian newspaper, which she folded up and placed aside 
 when Lothair was announced. 
 
 'We propose to walk to the station,' said Theodora; 
 ' the servants have gone on. Colonel Campian has a par- 
 ticular aversion to moving with any luggage. He restricts 
 me to this,' she said, pointing to her satchel, in which she 
 had placed the foreign newspaper, ' and for that he will not 
 be responsible.' 
 
 ' It was most kind of you to permit me to accompany you 
 this morning,' said Lothair; 'I should have been grieved 
 to have parted abruptly last night.' 
 
 * I could not refuse such a request,' said the lady ; ' but 
 do you know I never like to say farewell, even for four-and- 
 twenty hours. One should vanish like a spirit.' 
 
 ' Then I have erred,' said Lothair, ' against your rules 
 and principles.' 
 
 ' Say my fancies,' said the lady, ' my humours, my whims. 
 Besides this is not a farewell. Yon will come and see
 
 108 LOTHAIR. 
 
 us. Colonel Campian tells me you have promised to give 
 us that pleasure.' 
 
 ' It will be the greatest pleasure to me,' said Lothair ; ' I 
 can conceive nothing greater.' And then hesitating a little, 
 and a little blushing, he added, ' When do you think I 
 might come ? ' 
 
 'Whenever you like,' said the lady, ' you will always find 
 me at home. My life is this i I ride every day very early, 
 and far into the country, so I return tamed some two or 
 three hours after noon, and devote myself to my friends. 
 We are at home every evening, except opera nights, and 
 let me tell you, because it is not the custom generally among 
 your compatriots, we are always at home on Sundays.' 
 
 Colonel Campian eiitered the room ; the moment of de- 
 parture was at hand. Lothair felt the consolation of being 
 their companion to the station. He had once hoped it 
 might be possible to be their companion in the train ; but 
 he was not encouraged. 
 
 ' Railways have elevated and softened the lot of man,' 
 said Theodora, 'and Colonel 'Campian views them with 
 almost a religious sentiment. But I cannot read in a rail- 
 road, and the human voice is distressing to me amid the 
 whirl and the whistling, and the wild panting of the 
 loosened megatheria who drag us, And then those terrible 
 grottoes ; it is quite a descent of Proserpine ; so I have no 
 resource but my own thoughts.' 
 
 ' And surely that is sufficient,' murmured Lothair. 
 
 ' Not when the past is expelled,' said the lady. 
 
 ' But the future ? ' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Yes, that is ever interesting, but so vague that it some- 
 times induces slumber.' 
 
 The bell sounded, Lothair handed the lady to her com- 
 partment. 
 
 ' Our Oxford visit,' she said, ' has been a great success 
 and mainly through you.'
 
 LOTHAIR. 109 
 
 The Colonel was profuse in his cordial farewells, and it 
 seemed they would never have ended had not the train 
 moved. 
 
 Lothair remained upon the platform until it was out of 
 sight, and then exclaimed, ' Is it a dream, or shall I ever 
 see her again ? ' 
 
 CHAPTER XXVH. 
 
 LOTDAIR reached London late in the afternoon. Among the 
 notes and cards and letters on his table was a long and 
 pressing despatch from Mr. Putney Giles awaiting his 
 judgment and decision on many points. 
 
 ' The central inauguration, if I may use the term,' said 
 Mr. Putney Giles, ' is comparatively easy. It is an affair 
 of expense and of labour, great labour ; I may say unre- 
 mitting labour. But your Lordship will observe the other 
 points are not mere points of expense and labour. We 
 have to consult the feelings of several counties where your 
 Lordship cannot be present, at least certainly not on this 
 occasion, and yet where an adequate recognition of those 
 sentiments which ought to exist between the proprietor 
 and all classes connected with him ought to be secured. 
 Then Scotland : Scotland is a very difficult business to 
 manage. It is astonishing how the sentiment lingers in 
 that country connected with its old independence. I really 
 am quite surprised at it. One of your Lordship's most 
 important tenants wrote to me only a few days back, that 
 great dissatisfaction would prevail among your Lordship's 
 friends and tenantry in Scotland, if that country on this 
 occasion were placed on the same level as a mere English 
 county. It must be recognised as a kingdom. I almost 
 think it would be better if we could persuade Lord Culloden
 
 110 LOTHAIR. 
 
 not to attend the English, inauguration, but remain in the 
 kingdom of Scotland, and take the chair and the lead 
 throughout the festal ceremonies. A peer of the realm, 
 and your Lordship's guardian, would impart something of 
 a national character to the proceedings, and this, with a 
 judicious emblazoning on some of the banners of the royal 
 arms of Scotland, might have a conciliatory effect. One 
 should always conciliate. But your Lordship on all these 
 points, and especially with reference to Lord Culloden, must 
 be a much better judge than I am.' 
 
 Lothair nearly gave a groan. ' I almost wish,' he thought, 
 * my minority would never end. I am quite satisfied with 
 things as they are. What is the kingdom of Scotland to 
 me, and all these counties ? I almost begin to feel that 
 satiety which she said was inseparable from vast pos- 
 sessions.' 
 
 A letter from Bertram reminding him that he had not 
 dined at White's as he had promised, and suggesting some 
 new arrangement, and another from Monsignore Catesby 
 earnestly urging him to attend a most peculiar and solemn 
 function of the Church next Sunday evening, where the 
 Cai-dinal would officiate and preach, and in which Lady 
 St. Jerome and Miss Arundel were particularly interested, 
 did not restore his equanimity. 
 
 A dinner at White's ! He did not think he could stand 
 a dinner at White's. Indeed he was not sure that he could 
 stand any dinner anywhere, especially in this hot weather. 
 There was a good deal in what she said : ' One ought to 
 cat alone.' 
 
 The ecclesiastical function was a graver matter. It had 
 been long contemplated, often talked about, and on occa- 
 sions looked forward to by him even with a certain degree 
 of eagerness. He wished he had had an opportunity of 
 speaking with her on these matters. She was eminently 
 religious ; that she had voluntarily avowed. And he felt
 
 LOTHAIE. Ill 
 
 persuaded that no light or thoughtless remark could fall 
 from those lips. He wondered to what Church she be- 
 longed ? Protestant or Papal ? Her husband, being an 
 American, was probably a Protestant, but he was a gentle- 
 man of the South and with nothing puritanical about him. 
 She was a European, and probably of a Latin race. In all 
 likelihood she was a Roman Catholic. 
 
 It was Wednesday evening, and his valet reminded him 
 that he was engaged to dine with Lord and Lady Mont- 
 airy. 
 
 Lothair sighed. He was so absorbed by his new feelings, 
 that he shrunk from society with a certain degree of aver- 
 sion. He felt it quite out of his power to fulfil his engage- 
 ment. He sent an excuse. It was Lothair's first excuse. 
 In short, ho ' threw over ' the Montairys, to whom he was 
 so much attached, whom he so much admired, and whose 
 society he had hitherto so. highly prized. 
 
 To ' throw over ' a host is the most heinous of social 
 ciimes. It ought never to be pardoned. It disjoints a 
 party, often defeats the combinations which might affect 
 the results of a season, and generally renders the society 
 incoherent and unsatisfactory. If the outrage could ever 
 be condoned it might be in the instance of a young man 
 very inexperienced, the victim of some unexpected condi- 
 tion of nervous feelings over which the defaulter has really 
 no control. 
 
 It was evening, and the restless Lothair walked forth 
 without a purpose, and in a direction which he rarely 
 visited. 'It is a wonderful place,' said he, ' this London; 
 a nation, not a city ; with a population greater than some 
 kingdoms, and districts as different as if they were under 
 different governments and spoke different languages. And 
 what do I know of it ? I have been living here six months, 
 and my life has been passed in a park, two or three squares, 
 and half a dozen streets ! '
 
 112 LOTHAIR. 
 
 So he walked on and soon crossed Oxford Street, like 
 the Rhine a natural boundary, and then got into Portland 
 Place, and then found himself in the New Road, and then 
 he hailed a cruising Hansom, which he had previously ob- 
 served was well-horsed. 
 
 ' 'Tis the gondola of London,' said Lothair as he sprang 
 in. 
 
 ' Drive on till I tell you to stop.' 
 
 And the Hansom drove on, through endless boulevards, 
 some bustling, some dingy, some tawdry and flaring, some 
 melancholy and mean; rows of garden gods, planted on 
 the walls of yards full of vases and divinities of concrete, 
 huge railway halls, monster hotels, dissenting chapels in 
 the form of Gothic churches, quaint ancient almshouses 
 that were once built in the fields, and tea-gardens and 
 stingo houses and knackers' yards. They were in a district 
 far beyond the experience of Lothair, which indeed had 
 been exhausted when he had passed Eustonia, and from 
 that he had been long separated. The way was broad but 
 ill-lit, with houses of irregular size but generally of low 
 elevation, and sometimes detached in smoked- dried gar- 
 dens. The road was becoming a bridge which crossed a 
 canal, with barges and wharves and timber yards, when 
 their progress was arrested by a crowd. It seemed a sort 
 of procession ; there was a banner, and the lamp-light fell 
 upon a religious emblem. Lothair was interested, and de- 
 sired the driver not to endeavour to advance. The proces- 
 sion was crossing the road and entering a building. 
 
 'It's a Roman Catholic chapel,' said a bystander in 
 answer to Lothair. ' I believe it is a meeting about one of 
 their schools. They always have banners.' 
 
 ' I think I will get out,' said Lothair to his driver. 
 ' This I suppose will pay your fare.' 
 
 The man stared with delight at the sovereign in his 
 astonished palm, and in gratitude suggested that he should
 
 LOTEAIR. 113 
 
 remain and wait for the gentleman, but the restless Lothair 
 declined the proposal. 
 
 * Sir, sir,' said the man, leaning down his head as low as 
 possible from his elevated seat, and speaking in a hushed 
 voice, ' you are a real gentleman. Do you know what all 
 this is ? ' 
 
 ' Tes, yes ; some meeting about a Roman Catholic school.' 
 
 The man shook his head. ' You are a real gentleman, 
 and I will tell you the truth. They meet about the schools 
 of the order of St. Joseph, over the left. It is a Fenian 
 meeting.' 
 
 ' A Fenian meeting ! ' 
 
 4 Ay, ay, and you cannot enter that place without a 
 ticket. Just you try ! However, if a gentleman like you 
 wants to go, you shall have my ticket,' said the cabdriver ; 
 'and here it is. And may I drive to-morrow as true a 
 gentleman as I have driven to-day.' 
 
 So saying he took a packet from his breast pocket, and 
 opening it offered to Lothair a green slip of paper which 
 was willingly accepted. * I should like above all things to 
 go,' he said, and he blended with the rear of those who 
 were entering the building. The collector of the tickets 
 Btared at Lothair and scrutinised his pass, but all was in 
 order, and Lothair was admitted. 
 
 He passed through a house and a yard, at the bottom of 
 which was a rather spacious building. When he entered 
 it, he saw in an instant it was not a chapel. It was what 
 is called a temperance hall, a room to be hired for public 
 assemblies, with a raised platform at the end, on which 
 were half a dozen men. The hall was tolerably full, and 
 Lothair came in among the last. There were some children 
 sitting on a form placed against the wall of the room, each 
 with a bun which kept them quiet ; the banner belonged 
 to this school, and was the banner of St. Joseph. 
 
 A man dressed like a priest, and known as Father 
 I
 
 114 LOTEA1B. 
 
 O'Molloy, came forward. He was received with signs of 
 much sympathy, succeeded by complete silence. He ad- 
 dressed them in a popular and animated style on the ad- 
 vantages of education. They knew what that was, and 
 then they cheered. Education taught them to know their 
 rights- But what was the use of knowing their rights 
 unless they enforced them ? That was not to be done by 
 prayer books but by something else, and something else 
 wanted a subscription. 
 
 This was the object of the meeting and the burthen of 
 all the speeches which followed, and which were progres- 
 sively more outspoken than the adroit introductory dis- 
 course. The Saxon was denounced, sometimes with 
 coarseness, but sometimes in terms of picturesque passion ; 
 the vast and extending organisation of the brotherhood 
 was enlarged on, the great results at hand intimated ; the 
 necessity of immediate exertion on the part of every in- 
 dividual pressed with emphasis. All these views and re- 
 marks received from the audience an encouraging response ; 
 and when Lothair observed men going round with boxes, 
 and heard the clink of coin, he felt very embarrassed as to 
 what he should do when asked to contribute to a fund 
 raised to stimulate and support rebellion against his Sove- 
 reign. He regretted the rash restlessness which had in- 
 volved him in such a position. 
 
 The collectors approached Lothair, who was standing at 
 the end of the room opposite to the platform, where the 
 space was not crowded. 
 
 ' I should like to speak to Father O'MoDoy,' said 
 Lothair ; ' he is a priest and will understand my views.' 
 
 ' He is a priest here,' said one of the collectors with a 
 sardonic laugh, ' but I am glad to say you will not find his 
 name in the directory. Father O'Molloy is on the platform 
 and engaged.' 
 
 ' If you want to speak to the Father, speak from whore
 
 LOTHAIK. 115 
 
 yon are,' said the other collector. 'Here, silence! a 
 gentleman wants to address the meeting.' 
 
 And there was silence, and Lothair felt extremely em- 
 barrassed, but he was not wanting, though it was the first 
 time in his life that he had addressed a public meeting. 
 
 ' Gentlemen,' said Lothair, ' I really had no wish to 
 intrude upon you ; all I desired was to speak to Father 
 O'Molloy. I wished to tell him that it would have given 
 me pleasure to subscribe to these schools. I am not a 
 Roman Catholic, but I respect the Roman Catholic reli- 
 gion. But I can do nothing that will imply the slightest 
 sanction of the opinions I have heard expressed this 
 
 evening. For your own sakes ' but here a yell arose 
 
 which for ever drowned his voice. 
 
 * A spy, a spy ! ' was the general exclamation. ' We are 
 betrayed ! Seize him ! Knock him over ! ' and the whole 
 meeting seemed to have turned their backs on the platform 
 and to be advancing on the unfortunate Lothair. Two of 
 the leaders on the platform at the same time leapt down 
 from it, to direct as it were the enraged populace. 
 
 But at this moment a man who had been in the lower 
 part of the hall, in the vicinity of Lothair and standing 
 alone, pushed forward, and by his gestures and general 
 mien arrested somewhat the crowd, so that the two leaders 
 who leapt from the platform and bustled through the 
 crowd came in contact with him. 
 
 The stranger was evidently not of the class or country 
 of the rest assembled. He had a military appearance, and 
 spoke with a foreign accent when he said, ' This is no spy. 
 Keep your people off.' 
 
 ' And who are you ? ' enquired the leader thus addressed. 
 
 * One accustomed to be obeyed,' said the stranger. 
 'You may be a spy yourself,' said the leader. 
 
 ' I will not undertake to say that there are no spies in this 
 room,' said the stranger, ' but this person is not one, and 
 
 i 2
 
 116 LOTHAIR. 
 
 anybody who touches this person will touch this person at 
 his peril. Stand off, men! ' And they stood off. The 
 wave retreated backward, leaving the two leaders in front. 
 A couple of hundred men, a moment before apparently full 
 of furious passion and ready to take refuge in the violence 
 of fear, were cowed by a single human being. 
 
 ' Why, you are not afraid of one man ? ' said the leaders, 
 ashamed of their following. ' Whatever betides, no one 
 unknown shall leave this room, or it will be Bow Street 
 to-morrow morning.' 
 
 ' Nevertheless,' said the stranger, ' two unknown men 
 will leave this room, and with general assent. If anyone 
 touches this person or myself I will shoot him dead,' and 
 he drew out his revolver ; ' and as for the rest, look at that,' 
 he added, giving a paper to the leader of the Fenian Lodge, 
 'and then give it me back again.' 
 
 The leader of the Fenian Lodge glanced at the paper ; 
 he grew pale, then scarlet, folded the paper with great care 
 and returned it reverentially to the stranger, then looking 
 round to the assembly and waving his hand he said, ' All 
 right, the gentlemen are to go.' 
 
 ' Well, you have got out of a scrape, young sir,' said the 
 stranger to Lothair when they had escaped from the hall. 
 
 ' And how can I express my gratitude to you ? ' Lothair 
 replied. 
 
 ' Poh ! ' said the stranger, ' a mere affair of common 
 duty. But what surprises me is how you got your pass 
 ticket.' 
 
 Lothair told him all. 
 
 * They manage their affairs in general wonderfully close,' 
 said the stranger, ' but I have no opinion of them. I have 
 just returned from Ireland, where I thought I would go 
 and see what they really are after. No real business in 
 them. Their treason is a fairy tale, and their sedition a 
 child talking in its sleep.'
 
 LOTHAIE. 117 
 
 They walked together about half a mile, and then the 
 stranger said, ' At the end of this we shall get into the City 
 Road, and the land again of omnibus and public convey- 
 ances, and I shall wish you good night.' 
 
 ' But it is distressing to me to part thus,' said Lothair. 
 ' Pray let me call and pay my respects to my benefactor.' 
 
 ' No claim to any such title,' said the stranger ; ' I am 
 always glad to be of use. I will not trouble you to call on 
 me, for, frankly, I have no wish to increase the circle of 
 my acquaintance. So, good night ; and as you seem to be 
 fond of a little life, take my advice and never go about 
 unarmed.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIH. 
 
 THE Fenian adventure furnished the distraction which 
 Lothair required. It broke that absorbing spell of senti- 
 ment which is the delicious but enervating privilege of the 
 youthful heart ; yet when Lothair woke in the morning 
 from his well-earned slumbers, the charm returned, and he 
 fell at once into a reverie of Belmont, and a speculation 
 when he might really pay his first visit there. Not to-day, 
 that was clearly out of the question. They had separated 
 only yesterday, and yet it seemed an age, and the adven- 
 ture of another world. There are moods of feeling which 
 defy alike time and space. 
 
 But on the morrow, Friday, he might venture to go. 
 But then would to-morrow ever come ? It seemed impos- 
 sible. How were the intervening hours to pass ? The 
 world, however, was not so void of resources as himself, 
 and had already appropriated his whole day. And, first, 
 Monsignore Catesby came to breakfast with him, talking of 
 everything that was agreeable or interesting, but in reality 
 bent on securing his presence at the impending ecclesiastical
 
 118 LOTHAIR. 
 
 ceremony of high import, where his guardian was to 
 officiate, and where the foundation was to be laid of the 
 reconciliation of all Churches in the bosom of the true one. 
 Then in the afternoon Lothair had been long engaged to a 
 match of pigeon-shooting, in which pastime Bertram ex- 
 celled. It seemed there was to be a most exciting sweep- 
 stakes to-day, in which the flower of England were to 
 compete ; Lothair among them, and for the first time. 
 
 This great exploit of arms was to be accomplished at the 
 Castle in the Air, a fantastic villa near the banks of the 
 Thames, belonging to the Duke of Brecon. His Grace had 
 been offended by the conduct or the comments of the outer 
 world, which in his pastime had thwarted or displeased him 
 in the free life of Battersea. The Duke of Brecon was a 
 gentleman easily offended, but not one of those who ever 
 confined their sense of injury to mere words. He prided 
 himself on ' putting down ' any individual or body of men 
 who chose to come into collision with him. And so in the 
 present instance he formed a club of pigeon- shooters, and 
 lent them his villa for their rendezvous and enjoyment. 
 The society was exquisite, exclusive, and greatly sought 
 after. And the fine ladies, tempted of course by the beauty 
 of the scene, honoured and inspired the competing con- 
 federates by their presence. 
 
 The Castle in the Air was a colossal thatched cottage, 
 built by a favourite of King George the Fourth. It was 
 full of mandarins and pagodas and green dragons, and 
 papered with birds of many colours and with vast tails. 
 The gardens were pretty, and the grounds park -like, with 
 some noble cedars and some huge walnut trees. 
 
 The Duke of Brecon was rather below the middle size, 
 but he had a singularly athletic frame not devoid of sym- 
 metry. His head was well placed on his broad shoulders, 
 and his mien was commanding. He was narrow-minded 
 and prejudiced, but acute, and endowed with an unbending
 
 LOTHAIR. 119 
 
 He was an eminent sportsman, and brave even to 
 brutality. His boast was that he had succeeded in every-, 
 thing he had attempted, and he would not admit tho 
 possibility of future failure. Though still a very young 
 man he had won the Derby, training his own horse ; and 
 he successfully managed a fine stud in defiance of the ring, 
 whom it was one of the secret objects of his life to extirpate. 
 Though his manner to men was peremptory, cold, and 
 hard, he might be described as popular, for there existed a 
 superstitious belief in his judgment, and it was known that 
 in some instances when he had been consulted he had 
 given more than advice. It could not be said that he was 
 beloved, bat he was feared and highly considered. Para- 
 sites were necessary to him, though he despised them. 
 
 The Duke of Brecon was an avowed admirer of Lady 
 Corisande, and was intimate with her family. The Duchesa 
 liked him much, and was often seen at ball or assembly on 
 his arm. He had such excellent principles, she said ; waa 
 so straightforward, so true and firm. It was whispered 
 that even Lady Corisande had remarked that the Duke of 
 Brecon was the only young man of the time who had 
 ' character.' The truth is the Duke, though absolute and 
 hard to men, could be soft and deferential to women, and 
 such an exception to a general disposition has a charm. 
 It was said also that he had, when requisite, a bewitching 
 smile. 
 
 If there were any thing or any person in the world that 
 St. Aldegonde hated more than another it was the Duke of 
 Brecon. Why St. Aldegonde hated him was not very 
 clear, for they had never crossed each other, nor were the 
 reasons for his detestation, which he occasionally gave, 
 entirely satisfactory : sometimes it was because the Duke 
 drove piebalds ; sometimes because he had a large sum in 
 the Funds, which St. Aldegonde thought disgraceful for a 
 Duke ; sometimes because he wore a particular hat, though,
 
 120 LOTHAIR. 
 
 with respect to this last allegation, it does not follow that 
 St. Aldegonde was justified in his criticism, for in such 
 matters St. Aldegonde was himself very deficient, and had 
 once strolled up St. James's Street with his dishevelled 
 locks crowned with a wide-awake. Whatever might be the 
 cause, St. Aldegonde generally wound up, ' I tell you what, 
 Bertha, if Corisande marries that fellow I have made up 
 my mind to go to the Indian Ocean. It is a country I 
 never have seen, and Pinto tells me you cannot do it well 
 under five years.' 
 
 ' I hope you will take me, Granville, with you,' said Lady 
 St. Aldegonde, 'because it is highly probable Corisande 
 will marry the Duke ; mamma, you know, likes him so 
 much.' 
 
 'Why cannot Corisande marry Carisbrooke,' said St. 
 Aldegonde, pouting ; ' he is a really good fellow, much 
 better looking, and so far as land is concerned, which after 
 all is the only thing, has as large an estate as the Duke.' 
 
 ' Well, these things depend a little upon taste,' said Lady 
 St. Aldegonde. 
 
 'No, no,' said St. Aldegonde; 'Corisande must marry 
 Carisbrooke. Your father would not like my going to the 
 Indian Archipelago and not returning for five years, per- 
 haps never returning. Why should Corisande break up 
 our society ? Why are people so selfish ? I never could 
 go to Brentham again if the Duke of Brecon is always to 
 be there, giving his opinion, and being what your mother 
 calls " straightforward." I hate a straightforward fellow. 
 As Pinto says, if every man were straightforward in liis 
 opinions, there would be no conversation. The fun of talk 
 is to find out what a man really thinks, and then contrast 
 it with the enormous lies he has been telling all dinner, 
 and, perhaps, all his life.' 
 
 It was a favourable day for the Castle in the Air ; 
 enough but not too much sun, and a gentle breeze. Some
 
 LOTHAIR. 121 
 
 pretty feet, not alone, were sauntering in the gardens, 
 some pretty lips lingered in the rooms sipping tea ; but 
 the mass of the fair visitors, marvellously attired, were 
 assembled at the scene of action, seated on chairs and in 
 groups, which assumed something of the form of an am- 
 phitheatre. There were many gentlemen in attendance on 
 them, or independent spectators of the sport. The field 
 was large, not less than forty competitors, and comprising 
 many of the best shots in England. The struggle, there- 
 fore, was long and ably maintained; but, as the end 
 approached, it was evident that the contest would be 
 between Bertram, Lothair, and the Duke of Brecon. 
 
 Lady St. Aldegonde and Lady Montairy were there and 
 their unmarried sister. The married sisters were highly 
 excited in favour of their brother, but Lady Corisande said 
 nothing. At last Bertram missed a bird, or rather hia 
 bird, which he had hit, escaped, and fell beyond the en- 
 closure. Lothair was more successful, and it seemed that 
 it might be a tie between him and the Duke. His Grace, 
 when called, advanced with confident composure, and 
 apparently killed both his birds, when, at this moment, a 
 dog rushed forward and chased one of the mortally struck 
 pigeons. The blue-rock, which was content to die by the 
 hand of a Duke, would not deign to be worried by a dog, 
 and it frantically moved its expiring wings, scaled the 
 paling, and died. So Lothair won the prize. 
 
 ' Well,' said Lady Montairy to Lothair, ' as Bertram was 
 not to win I am glad it was you.' 
 
 * And you will not congratulate me ? ' said Lothair to 
 Lady Corisande. 
 
 She rather shook her head. 'A tournament of doves,' 
 she said. ' I would rather see you all in the lists of 
 Ashby.' 
 
 Lothair had to dine this day with one of the vanquished. 
 This was Mr. Brancepeth, celebrated for his dinners, still
 
 122 LOTHAIR. 
 
 more for his guests. Mr. Brancepeth was a grave young 
 man. It was supposed that lie was always meditating 
 over the arrangement of his menus, or the skilful means 
 by which he could assemble together the right persons to 
 partake of them. Mr. Brancepeth had attained the highest 
 celebrity in his peculiar career. To dine with Mr. Brance- 
 peth was a social incident that was mentioned. Royalty 
 had consecrated his banquets, and a youth of note was 
 scarcely a graduate of society who had not been his guest. 
 There was one person however who, in this respect, 
 bad not taken his degree, and, as always happens under 
 such circumstances, he was the individual on whom 
 Mr. Brancepeth was most desirous to confer it; and this 
 was St. Aldegonde. In vain Mr. Brancepeth had approached 
 him with vast cards of invitation to hecatombs, and with 
 insinuating little notes to dinners sans fafon; proposals 
 which the presence of princes might almost construe into 
 a command, or the presence of some one even more attrac- 
 tive than princes must invest with irresistible charm. It 
 was all in vain. 'Not that I dislike Brancepeth,' said 
 St. Aldegonde ; ' I rather like bim : I like a man who can 
 do only one thing, but does that well. But then I hate 
 dinners.' 
 
 But the determined and the persevering need never 
 despair of gaining their object in this world. And this 
 very day, riding home from the Castle in the Air, Mr. 
 Brancepeth overtook St. Aldegonde, who was lounging 
 about on a rough Scandinavian cob, as dishevelled as him- 
 self, listless and groomless. After riding together for 
 twenty minutes, St. Aldegonde informed Mr. Brancepeth, 
 as was his general custom with his companions, that he 
 was bored to very extinction, and that he did not know 
 what he should do with himself for the rest of the day. 
 ' If I could only get Pinto to go with me, I think I would 
 rnn down to the Star and Garter or perhaps to Hampton 
 Court.'
 
 LOTHAIK. 123 
 
 ' You will not be able to get Pinto to-day,' said Mr, 
 Brancepeth, ' for he dines with me.' 
 
 ' What an unlucky fellow I am ! ' exclaimed St. Alde- 
 gonde, entirely to himself. ' I had made up my mind to 
 dine with Pinto to-day.' 
 
 * And why should you not ? Why not meet Pinto at 
 my house ? ' 
 
 ' Well, that is not in my way,' said St. Aldegonde, but 
 not in a decided tone. ' You know I do not like strangers, 
 and crowds of wine-glasses, and what is called all the 
 delicacies of the season.' 
 
 ' You will meet no one that you do not know and like. It 
 is a little dinner I made for ' and he mentioned Lothair. 
 
 ' I like Lothair,' said St. Aldegonde, dreamily. ' He is a 
 nice boy.' 
 
 ' Well, you will have him and Pinto to yourself.' 
 
 The large fish languidly rose and swallowed the bait, 
 and the exulting Mr. Brancepeth cantered off to Hill 
 Street to give the necessary instructions. 
 
 Mr. Pinto was one of the marvels of English society ; 
 the most sought after of all its members, though no one 
 could tell you exactly why. He was a little oily Portu- 
 guese, middle-aged, corpulent, and somewhat bald, with 
 dark eyes of sympathy, not unmixed with humour. No 
 one knew who he was, and in a country the most scruti- 
 nising as to personal details, no one enquired or cared to 
 know. A quarter of a century ago an English noble had 
 caught him in his travels, and brought him young to 
 England, where he had always remained. From the 
 favourite of an individual he had become the oracle of a 
 circle, and then the idol of society. All this time his 
 manner remained unchanged. He was never at any time 
 either humble or pretentious Instead of being a parasite, 
 everybody nattered him ; and instead of being a hanger-on 
 of society, society hung on Pinto.
 
 124 LOTHAIB. 
 
 It most have been the combination of many pleasing 
 qualities, rather than the possession of any commanding 
 one, that created his influence. He certainly was not a 
 wit, yet he was always gay, and always said things that 
 made other people merry. His conversation was sparkling, 
 interesting, and fluent, yet it was observed he never gave 
 an opinion on any subject and never told an anecdote. 
 Indeed, he would sometimes remark, when a man fell into 
 his anecdotage it was a sign for him to retire from the 
 world. And yet Pinto rarely opened his mouth without 
 everybody being stricken with mirth. He had the art of 
 viewing common things in a fanciful light, and the rare 
 gift of raillery which flattered the self-love of those whom 
 it seemed sportively not to spare. Sometimes those who 
 had passed a fascinating evening with Pinto would try to 
 remember on the morrow what he had said, and could recall 
 nothing. He was not an intellectual Crossus, but his 
 pockets were full of sixpences. 
 
 One of the ingredients of his social spell was no doubt 
 his manner, which was tranquil even when he was droll. 
 He never laughed except with his eyes, and delivered 
 himself of his most eccentric fancies in an unctuous style. 
 He had a rare gift of mimicry, which he used with extreme 
 reserve, and therefore was proportionately effective when 
 displayed. Add to all this, a sweet voice, a soft hand, and 
 a disposition both soft and sweet, like his own Azores. It 
 was understood that Pinto was easy in his circumstances, 
 though no one knew where these circumstances were. 
 His equipage was worthy of his position, and in his little 
 house in May Fair he sometimes gave a dinner to a fine 
 lady, who was as proud of the event as the Queen of Sheba 
 of her visit to Solomon the Great. 
 
 When St. Aldegonde arrived in Hill Street, and slouched 
 into the saloon with as uncouth and graceless a general 
 mien as a handsome and naturally graceful man could
 
 LOTHAIK. 125 
 
 contrive to present, his keen though listless glance at onoo 
 revealed to him that he was, as he described it at dinner 
 to Hugo Bohun, in a social jungle, in which there was a 
 great herd of animals that he particularly disliked, namely, 
 what he entitled ' swells.' The scowl on his distressed 
 countenance at first intimated a retreat ; but after a survey, 
 courteous to his host and speaking kindly to Lothair as he 
 passed on, he made a rush to Mr. Pinto, and, cordially 
 embracing him, said, ' Mind we sit together.' 
 
 The dinner was not a failure, though an exception to the 
 polished ceremony of the normal Brancepeth banquet. The 
 host headed his table, with the Duke of Brecon on his 
 right and Lothair on his left hand, and ' swells ' of calibre 
 in their vicinity ; but St. Aldegonde sat far away,, next to 
 Mr. Pinto, and Hugo Bohun on the other side of that 
 gentleman. Hugo Bohun loved swells, but he loved St. 
 Aldegonde more. The general conversation in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Mr. Brancepeth did not flag: they talked of 
 the sport of the morning, and then, by association of ideas, 
 of every other sport. And then from the sports of England 
 they ranged to the sports of every other country. There 
 were several there who had caught salmon in Norway and 
 killed tigers in Bengal, and visited those countries only for 
 that purpose. And then they talked of horses, and then 
 they talked of women. 
 
 Lothair was rather silent ; for in this society .of ancients, 
 the youngest of whom was perhaps not less than five-and- 
 twenty, and some with nearly a lustre added to that 
 mature period, he felt the awkward modesty of a freshman. 
 The Duke of Brecon talked much, but never at length. 
 He decided everything, at least to his own satisfaction ; 
 and if his opinion were challenged, remained unshaken, 
 and did not conceal it. 
 
 All this time a different scene was enacting at the other 
 rad of the table. St. Aldegonde, with his back turned to
 
 126 LOTHAIR. 
 
 his other neighbour, hung upon the accents of Mr. Pinto, 
 and Hugo Bohun imitated St. Aldegonde. What Mr. 
 Pinto said or was saying was quite inaudible, for he always 
 spoke low, and in the present case he was invisible, like an 
 ortolan smothered in vineleaves ; but every now and then 
 St. Aldegonde broke into a frightful shout, and Hugo 
 Bohun tittered immensely. Then St. Aldegonde, throwing 
 himself back in his chair, and talking to himself or the 
 ceiling, would exclaim, ' Best thing I ever heard,' while 
 Hugo nodded sympathy with a beaming smile. 
 
 The swells now and then paused in their conversation 
 and glanced at the scene of disturbance. 
 
 ' They seem highly amused there,' said Mr. Brancepeth. 
 ' I wish they would pass it on.' 
 
 ' I think St. Aldegonde,' said the Duke of Brecon, ' is 
 the least conventional man of my acquaintance.' 
 
 Notwithstanding this stern sneer, a practised general 
 like Mr. Brancepeth felt he had won the day. All his 
 guests would disperse and tell the world that they had 
 dined with him and met St. Aldegonde, and to-morrow 
 there would be a blazoned paragraph in the journals com- 
 memorating the event, and written as if by a herald. 
 What did a little disturb his hospitable mind was that 
 St. Aldegonde literally tasted nothing. He did not care 
 so much for his occasionally leaning on the table with 
 both his elbows, but that he should pass by every dish was 
 distressing. So Mr. Brancepeth whispered to his own 
 valet, a fine gentleman, who stood by his master's chair 
 and attended on no one else except, when requisite, his 
 master's immediate neighbour, and desired him to suggest 
 to St. Aldegonde whether the side table might not provide, 
 under the difficulties, some sustenance. St. Aldegonde 
 seemed quite gratified by the attention, and said he should 
 like to have some cold meat. Now that was the only 
 thing the side table, bounteous as was its disposition,
 
 LOTHAIK. 127 
 
 could not provide. All the joints of the season were 
 named in vain, and pies and preparations of many climes. 
 But nothing would satisfy St. Aldegonde but cold meat. 
 
 ' Well, now I shall begin my dinner,' he said to^Pinto, 
 when he was at length served. ' What surprises me most 
 in you is your English. There is not a man who speaks 
 such good English as you do.' 
 
 ' English is an expressive language,' said Mr. Pinto, 
 ' but not difficult to master. Its range is limited. It con- 
 sists, as far as I can observe, of four words : " nice," 
 "jolly," "charming," and "bore;" and some grammarians 
 add " fond." ' 
 
 When the guests rose and returned to the saloon, St. 
 Aldegonde was in high spirits, and talked to every one, 
 even to the Duke of Brecon, whom he considerately re- 
 minded of his defeat in the morning, adding that from 
 what he had seen of his Grace's guns he had no opinion of 
 them, and that he did not believe that breech-loaders 
 suited pigeon-shooting. 
 
 Finally, when he bade farewell to his host, St. Aldegonde 
 assured him that he ' never in his life made so good a 
 dinner, and that Pinto had never been so rich.' 
 
 When the party broke up, the majority of the guests 
 went, sooner or later, to a ball that was given this evening 
 by Lady St. Jerome. Others, who never went to balls, 
 looked forward with refined satisfaction to a night of 
 unbroken tobacco. St. Aldegonde went to play whist at 
 the house of a lady who lived out of town. ' I like tho 
 drive home,' he said ; ' the morning air is so refreshing 
 when one has lost one's money.' 
 
 A ball at St. Jerome House was a rare event, but one 
 highly appreciated. It was a grand mansion, with a real 
 suite of state apartments, including a genuine ball-room in 
 the Venetian style, and lighted with chandeliers of rock 
 crystal. Lady St. Jerome was a woman of taste and
 
 128 LOTHAIR. 
 
 splendour and romance, who could do justice to the scene 
 and occasion. Even Lord St. Jerome, quiet as he seemed, 
 in these matters was popular with young men. It was 
 known that Lord St. Jerome gave at his ball suppers the 
 same champagne that he gave at his dinners, and that was 
 of the highest class : in short, a patriot. We talk with 
 wondering execration of the great poisoners of past ages, 
 the Borgias, the inventor of aqua tofana, and the amiable 
 Marchioness de Brinvilliers ; but Pinto was of opinion 
 that there were more social poisoners about in the present 
 day than in the darkest and the most demoralised periods, 
 and then none of them are punished ; which is so strange, 
 he would add, as they are all found out. 
 
 Lady St. Jerome received Lothair, as Pinto said, with 
 extreme unction. She looked in his eyes, she retained his 
 hand, she said that what she had heard had made her so 
 happy. And then, when he was retiring, she beckoned 
 him back and said she must have some tea, and, taking his 
 arm, they walked away together. ' I have so much to tell 
 you,' she said, ' and everything is so interesting. I think 
 we are on the eve of great events. The Monsignore told 
 me your heart was with us. It must be. They are your 
 own thoughts, your own wishes. We are realising your 
 own ideal. I think next Sunday will be remembered as a 
 great day in English history ; the commencement of a 
 movement that may save everything. The Monsignore, 1 
 know, has told you all.' 
 
 Not exactly ; the Oxford visit had deranged a little the 
 plans of the Monsignore, but he had partially communicated 
 the vast scheme. It seems there was a new society to be 
 instituted for the restoration of Christendom. The change 
 of name from Christendom to Europe had proved a failure 
 and a disastrous one. ' And what wonder ? ' said Lady 
 St. Jerome. ' Europe is not even a quarter of the globe, as 
 the philosophers pretended it was. There is already a
 
 LOTHAIR. 129 
 
 fifth division, and probably there will be many more as 
 the philosophers announce it impossible.' The Cardinal 
 was to inaugurate the institution on Sunday next at the 
 Jesuits' Church by one of his celebrated sermons. It was 
 to be a function of the highest class. All the faithful of 
 consideration were to attend, but the attendance was not 
 to be limited to the faithful. Every sincere adherent of 
 Church principles who was in a state of prayer and prepa- 
 ration was solicited to be present and join in the holy and 
 common work of restoring to the Divine Master his king- 
 dom upon earth with its rightful name. 
 
 It was a brilliant ball. All the ' nice ' people in London 
 were there. All the young men who now will never go to 
 balls were present. This was from respect to the high 
 character of Lord St. Jerome. Clare Arundel looked 
 divine, dressed in a wondrous white robe garlanded with 
 violets, just arrived from Paris, a present from her god- 
 mother the Duchess of Lorrain-Schulenbourg. On her 
 head a violet wreath, deep and radiant as her eyes, and 
 which admirably contrasted with her dark golden brown 
 hair. 
 
 Lothair danced with her and never admired her more. 
 Her manner towards him was changed. It was attractive, 
 even alluring. She smiled on him, she addressed him in 
 tones of sympathy, even of tenderness. She seemed in- 
 terested in all he was doing, she flattered him by a mode 
 which is said to be irresistible to a man, by talking of 
 himself. When the dance had finished he offered to attend 
 her to the tea-room. She accepted the invitation even 
 with cordiality. 
 
 ' I think I must have some tea,' she said, ' and I like to 
 go with my kinsman.' 
 
 Just before supper was announced, Lady St. Jerome 
 told Lothair, to his surprise, that he was to attend Miss 
 Arundel to the great ceremony. ' It is Clare's ball,' said 
 
 K
 
 130 LOTHAIR. 
 
 Lady St. Jerome, ' given in her honour, and you are to 
 take care of her.' 
 
 ' I am more than honoured,' said Lothair. ' But does 
 Miss Arundel wish it ? for, to tell you the truth, I thought 
 I had rather abused her indulgence this evening.' 
 
 ' Of course she wishes it,' said Lady St. Jerome. ' Who 
 should lead her out on such an occasion, her own ball, than 
 the nearest and dearest relation she has in the world ex- 
 cept ourselves ? ' 
 
 Lothair made no reply to this unanswerable logic, but 
 was as surprised as he was gratified. He recalled the 
 hour when the kinship was at the best but coldly recog- 
 nised, the inscrutable haughtiness, even distrust, with 
 which Miss Arundel listened to the exposition of his views 
 and feelings, and the contrast which her past mood pre- 
 sented to her present brilliant sympathy and cordial 
 greeting. But he yielded to the magic of the flowing 
 hour. Miss Arundel seemed indeed quite a changed being 
 to-night, full of vivacity, fancy, feeling, almost fun. She 
 was witty and humorous and joyous and fascinating. As 
 he fed her with cates as delicate as her lips, and manu- 
 factured for her dainty beverages which would not outrage 
 their purity, Lothair at last could not refrain from inti- 
 mating his sense of her unusual but charming joyousness. 
 
 ' No,' she said, turning round with animation, ' my 
 natural disposition, always repressed because I have felt 
 overwhelmed by the desolation of the world. But now I 
 have hope ; I have more than hope, I have joy. I feel 
 sure this idea of the restoration of Christendom comes from 
 Heaven. It has restored me to myself, and has given 
 me a sense of happiness in this life which I never could 
 contemplate. But what is the climax of my joy is, that 
 you, after all my own blood, and one in whose career I 
 have ever felt the deepest interest, should be ordained to 
 lay, as it were, the first stone of this temple of divine love.'
 
 LOTHAIR. 131 
 
 It was break of day when Lothair jumped into his 
 brougham. ' Thank heavens,' he exclaimed, ' it is at last 
 Friday ! ' 
 
 CHAPTER XXTX, 
 
 THERE is something very pleasant in a summer suburban 
 ride in the valley of the Thames. London transforms 
 itself into bustling Knightsbridge and airy Bromptou 
 brightly and gracefully, lingers cheerfully in the long, 
 miscellaneous, well-watered Bang's Road, and only says 
 farewell when you come to an abounding river and a pic- 
 turesque bridge. The boats were bright upon the waters 
 when Lothair crossed it, and his dark chesnut barb, 
 proud of its resplendent form, curvetted with joy when 
 it reached a green common, studded occasionally with 
 a group of pines and well-bedecked with gorse. After 
 this he pursued the public road for a couple of miles until 
 he observed on his left hand a gate on which was written 
 * private road,' and here he stopped. The gate was locked, 
 but when Lothair assured the keeper that he was about to 
 visit BELMONT, he was permitted to enter. 
 
 He entered a green and winding lane, fringed with tall 
 elms and dim with fragrant shade, and after proceeding 
 about half a mile came to a long low-built lodge with a 
 thatched and shelving roof and surrounded by a rustic 
 colonnade covered with honeysuckle. Passing through the 
 gate at hand, he found himself in a road winding through 
 gently undulating banks of exquisite turf studded with 
 rare shrubs and occasionally rarer trees. Suddenly the 
 confined scene expanded: wide lawns spread out before 
 him, shadowed with the dark forms of many huge cedars 
 and blazing with flower-beds of every hue. The house 
 also apparent, a stately mansion of hewn stone, with
 
 132 LOTHAIB. 
 
 wings and a portico of Corinthian columns, and backed by 
 deep woods. 
 
 This was BELMONT, built by a favourite Minister of State 
 to whom a grateful and gracious sovereign had granted a 
 slice of a royal park whereon to raise a palace and a garden 
 and find occasionally Tusculan repose. 
 
 The lady of the mansion was at home, and though 
 Lothair was quite prepared for this his heart beat. The inner 
 hall was of noble proportion, and there were ranged in it 
 many Roman busts and some ancient slabs and altars of 
 marble. These had been collected some century ago by 
 the Minister; but what immediately struck the eye of 
 Lothair were two statues by an American artist, and both 
 of fame, the Sibyl and the Cleopatra. He had heard of 
 these, but had never seen them, and could not refrain from 
 lingering a moment to gaze upon their mystical and fas- 
 cinating beauty. 
 
 He proceeded through two spacious and lofty chambers, 
 of which it was evident the furniture was new. It was 
 luxurious and rich and full of taste, but there was no at- 
 tempt to recall the past in the details : no cabinets and 
 clocks of French kings or tables of French queens, no 
 chairs of Venetian senators, no candelabra that had illu- 
 mined Doges of Genoa, no ancient porcelain of rare 
 schools and ivory carvings and choice enamels. The walls 
 were hung with masterpieces of modern art, chiefly of the 
 French school, Ingres and Delaroche and Schefier. 
 
 The last saloon led into a room of smaller dimensions 
 opening on the garden, and which Lothair at first thought 
 must be a fernery it seemed so full of choice and expand- 
 ing specimens of that beautiful and multiform plant ; but 
 when his eye had become a little accustomed to the scene 
 and to the order of the groups, he perceived they were 
 only the refreshing and profuse ornaments of a regularly 
 furnished and inhabited apartment,, There was a tablo
 
 LOTHAIR. 133 
 
 covered with writing materials and books and some music. 
 A chair before the table was so placed as if some one had 
 only recently quitted it, a book being open but turned upon 
 its face with an ivory cutter by its side. It would seem 
 that the dweller in the chamber might not be far distant. 
 The servant invited Lothair to be seated, and saying that 
 Mrs. Campian must be in the garden, proceeded to inform 
 his mistress of the arrival of a guest. 
 
 The room opened on a terrace adorned with statues and 
 orange trees, and descending gently into a garden in the 
 Italian style, in the centre of which was a marble fountain 
 of many figures. The grounds were not extensive, but they 
 were only separated from the royal park by a wire fence, 
 so that the scene seemed alike rich and illimitable. On. 
 the boundary was a summerhouse in the shape of a classic 
 temple, one of those pavilions of pleasure which nobles 
 loved to raise in the last century. 
 
 As Lothair beheld the scene with gratification, the ser- 
 vant reappeared on the steps of the terrace and invited 
 him to descend. Guiding him through the garden, the 
 servant retired as Lothair recognised Mrs. Campian ap- 
 proaching them. 
 
 She gave her hand to Lothair and welcomed him 
 cordially but with serenity. They mutually exchanged 
 hopes that their return to town had been agreeable. Lothair 
 could not refrain from expressing how pleased he was with 
 Belmont. 
 
 ' I am glad you approve of our hired home,' said Theo- 
 dora ; ' I think we were fortunate in finding one that suits 
 our tastes and habits. We love pictures and statues and 
 trees and flowers, and yet we love our friends, and our 
 friends are people who live in cities.' 
 
 ' I think I saw two statues to-day of which I have often 
 beard,' said Lothair. 
 
 * The Sibyl and Cleopatra ? Yes, Colonel Campian is
 
 134 LOTH AIR. 
 
 rather proud of possessing them. He collects only modern 
 art, for which I believe there is a great future, though 
 some of our friends think it is yet in its cradle.' 
 
 ' I am very sorry to say,' said Lothair, ' that I know very 
 little about art, or indeed anything else, but I admire what 
 is beautiful. I know something about architecture, at 
 least church architecture.' 
 
 ' Well, religion has produced some of our nnest build- 
 ings,' said Theodora ; ' there is no question of that ; and as 
 long as they are adapted to what takes place in them they 
 are admirable. The fault I find in modern churches in this 
 country is, that there is little relation between the cere- 
 monies and the structure. Nobody seems now conscious 
 that every true architectural form has a purpose. But I 
 think the climax of confused ideas is capped when dissent- 
 ing chapels are built like cathedrals.' 
 
 ' Ah ! to build a cathedral,' exclaimed Lothair, ' that is 
 a great enterprise. I wish I might show you some day 
 some drawings I have of a projected cathedral.' 
 
 ' A projected cathedral ! ' said Theodora. ' "Well, I must 
 confess to you I never could comprehend the idea of a 
 Protestant cathedral.' 
 
 ' But I am not quite sure,' said Lothair blushing and 
 agitated, ' that it will be a Protestant cathedral. I have 
 not made up my mind about that.' 
 
 Theodora glanced at him, unobserved, with her won- 
 derful grey eyes ; a sort of supernatural light seemed to 
 shoot from beneath their long dark lashes and read his 
 inmost nature. They were all this time returning, as she 
 had suggested, to the house. Rather suddenly she said, 
 ' By the bye, as you are so fond of art, I ought to have 
 asked you whether you would like to see a work by the 
 sculptor of Cleopatra which arrived when we were at 
 Oxford. We have placed it on a pedestal in the temple. 
 It is the Genius of Freedom. I may say I was assist-
 
 LOTHAIE. 135 
 
 Ing at its inauguration when your name was announced 
 to me.' 
 
 Lothair caught at this proposal, and they turned and 
 approached the temple. Some workmen were leaving the 
 building as they entered, and one or two lingered. 
 
 Upon a pedestal of porphyry rose the statue of a female 
 in marble. Though veiled with drapery which might have 
 become the Goddess of Modesty, admirable art permitted 
 the contour of the perfect form to be traced. The feet 
 were without sandals, and the undulating breadth of one 
 shoulder, where the drapery was festooned, remained un- 
 covered. One expected with such a shape some divine 
 visage. That was not wanting ; but humanity was asserted 
 in the transcendent brow, which beamed with sublime 
 thought and profound enthusiasm. 
 
 Some would have sighed that such beings could only be 
 pictured in a poet's or an artist's dream, but Lothair felt 
 that what he beheld with rapture was no ideal crea- 
 tion, and that he was in the presence of the inspiring 
 original. 
 
 * It is too like ! ' he murmured. 
 
 ' It is the most successful recurrence to the true principles 
 of art in modern sculpture,' said a gentleman on his right 
 hand. 
 
 This person was a young man, though more than ten 
 years older than Lothair. His appearance was striking. 
 Above the middle height, his form, athletic though lithe 
 and symmetrical, was crowned by a countenance aquiline 
 but delicate, and from many circumstances of a remarkable 
 radiancy. The lustre of his complexion, the fire of his eye, 
 and his chesnut hair in profuse curls, contributed much 
 to this dazzling effect. A thick but small moustache did 
 not conceal his curved lip or the scornful pride of his dis- 
 tended nostril, and his beard, close but not long, did not 
 veil the singular beauty of his mouth. It was an arrogant
 
 136 LOTHATR. 
 
 face, daring and vivacious, yet weighted with an expres- 
 sion of deep and haughty thought. 
 
 The costume of this gentleman was rich and picturesque 
 Such extravagance of form and colour is sometimes en- 
 countered in the adventurous toilette of a country house, 
 but rarely experienced in what might still be looked upon 
 as a morning visit in the metropolis. 
 
 ' You know Mr. Phoebus ? ' asked a low clear voice, 
 and turning round Lothair was presented to a person so 
 famous that even Lothair had heard of him. 
 
 Mr. Phoebus was the most successful, not to say the 
 most eminent, painter of the age. He was the descendant 
 of a noble family of Gascony that had emigrated to England 
 from France in the reign of Louis XIV. Unquestionably 
 they had mixed their blood frequently during the interval 
 and the vicissitudes of their various life ; but in Gaston 
 Phoebus nature, as is sometimes her wont, had chosen to 
 reproduce exactly the original type. He was the Gascon 
 noble of the sixteenth century, with all his brilliancy, 
 bravery, and boastfulness, equally vain, arrogant, and 
 eccentric, accomplished in all the daring or the graceful 
 pursuits of man, yet nursed in the philosophy of our 
 times. 
 
 * It is presumption in my talking about such things, 
 said Lothair ; ' but might I venture to ask what you may 
 consider the true principles of art ? ' 
 
 'ARYAN principles,' said Mr. Phoebus; 'not merely the 
 study of nature, but of beautiful nature ; the art of design 
 in a country inhabited by a firstrate race, and where the 
 laws, the manners, the customs, are calculated to maintain 
 the health and beauty of a firstrate race. In a greater or 
 less degree, these conditions obtained from the age of 
 Pericles to the age of Hadrian in pure Aryan commu- 
 nities, but Semitism began then to prevail, and ultimately 
 triumphed. Semitism has destroyed art ; it taught mntr.
 
 LOTHAIR. 137 
 
 to despise his own body, and the essence of art is to 
 honour the human frame.' 
 
 * I am afraid I ought not to talk about such tilings,' said 
 Lothair ; ' but if by Semitism you mean religion, surely the 
 Italian painters inspired by Semitism did something.' 
 
 * Great things,' said Mr. Phoebus ; ' some of the greatest. 
 Semitism gave them subjects, but the Renaissance gave 
 them Aryan art, and it gave that art to a purely Aryan race. 
 But Semitism rallied in the shape of the Reformation, and 
 swept all away. When Leo the Tenth was Pope, popery 
 was pagan ; popery is now Christian and art is extinct.' 
 
 ' I cannot enter into such controversies,' said Lothair. 
 ' Every day I feel, more and more, I am extremely igno- 
 rant.' 
 
 ' Do not regret it,' said Mr. Phoebus. ' What you call 
 ignorance is your strength. By ignorance you mean a 
 want of knowledge of books. Books are fatal ; they are 
 the curse of the human race. Nine- tenths of existing 
 books are nonsense, and the clever books are the refutation 
 of that nonsense. The greatest misfortune that ever befell 
 man was the invention of printing. Printing has de- 
 stroyed education. Art is a great thing, and Science is 
 a great thing ; but all that art and science can reveal can 
 be taught by man and by his attributes : his voice, his 
 hand, his eye. The essence of education is the education 
 of the body. Beauty and health are the chief sources 
 of happiness. Men should live in the air ; their exer- 
 cises should be regular, varied, scientific. To render his 
 body strong and supple is the first duty of man. He 
 should develope and completely master the whole muscular 
 system. What I admire in the order to which you belong 
 is that they do live in the air, that they excel in athletic 
 sports ; that they can only speak one language ; and that 
 they never read. This is not a complete education, but it 
 is the highest education since the Greek.'
 
 138 LOTHAIK. 
 
 ' What you say 1 feel encouraging,' said Lothair, repres- 
 sing a smile, ' for I myself live very much in the air, and 
 am fond of all sports ; but I confess I am often ashamed of 
 being so poor a linguist, and was seriously thinking that I 
 ought to read.' 
 
 'No doubt every man should combine an intellectual 
 with a physical training,' replied Mr. Phoebus ; ' but the 
 popular conception of the means is radically wrong. Youth 
 should attend lectures on art and science by the most 
 illustrious professors, and should converse together after- 
 wards on what they have heard. They should learn to 
 talk ; it is a rare accomplishment, and extremely healthy. 
 They should have music always at their meals. The 
 theatre, entirely remodelled and reformed, and under a 
 minister of state, should be an important element of educa- 
 tion. I should not object to the recitation of lyric poetry. 
 That is enough. I would not have a book in the house, or 
 even see a newspaper.' 
 
 ' These are Aryan principles ? ' said Lothair. 
 
 ' They are,' said Mr. Phoebus ; ' and of such principles, I 
 believe, a great revival is at hand. We shall both live to 
 see another Renaissance ' 
 
 4 And our artist here,' said Lothair, pointing to the 
 statue, ' you are of opinion that he is asserting these 
 principles ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; because he has produced the Aryan form by 
 studying the Aryan form. Phidias never had a finer 
 model, and he has not been unequal to it 
 
 ' I fancied,' said Lothair in a lower and enquiring tone, 
 though Mrs. Campian had some time before glided out of 
 the pavilion and was giving directions to the workmen, 
 ' I fancied I had heard that Mrs. Campian was a Roman.' 
 
 ' The Romans were Greeks,' said Mr. Phoebus, ' and in 
 this instance the Phidian type came out. It has not been 
 thrown away. I believe Theodora has inspired as many
 
 LOTHAIR. 139 
 
 painters and sculptors as any Aryan goddess. I look upon 
 her as such, for I know nothing more divine.' 
 
 ' I fear the Phidian type is very rare,' said Lothair. 
 
 * In nature and in art there must always be surpassing 
 instances,' said Mr. Phoebus. ' It is a law, and a wise one; 
 but, depend upon it, so strong and perfect a type as the 
 original Aryan must be yet abundant among the millions, 
 and may be developed. But for this you want great 
 changes in your laws. Tt is the first duty of a state to 
 attend to the frame and health of the subject. The Spar- 
 tans understood this. They permitted no marriage the 
 probable consequences of which might be a feeble progeny; 
 they even took measures to secure a vigorous one. The 
 Romans doomed the deformed to immediate destruction. 
 The union of the races concerns the welfare of the com- 
 monwealth much too nearly to be entrusted to individual 
 arrangement. The fate of a nation will ultimately depend 
 upon the strength and health of the population. Both 
 France and England should look to this ; they have cause. 
 As for our mighty engines of war in the hands of a puny 
 race, it will be the old story of the lower empire and the 
 Greek fire. Laws should be passed to secure all this, and 
 some day they will be. But nothing can be done until the 
 Aryan races are extricated from Semitism.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 LOTHAIR returned to town in a not altogether satisfactory 
 state of mind. He was nut serene or content. On the 
 contrary, he was rather agitated and perplexed. He could 
 not say he regretted his visit. He had seen her, and he 
 had seen her to great advantage. He had seen much too 
 that was pleasing, and had heard also many things that, if
 
 140 LOTHAIR. 
 
 not pleasing, were certainly full of interest. And yet, 
 when he cantered back over the common, the world some- 
 how did not seem to him so bright and exhilarating as in 
 the ambling morn. Was it because she was not alone ? 
 And yet why should he expect she should be alone ? She 
 had many friends, and she was as accessible to them as to 
 himself. And yet a conversation with her, as in the gardens 
 of Blenheim, would have been delightful, and he had rather 
 counted on it. Nevertheless, it was a great thing to know 
 men like Mr. Phoebus, and hear their views on the nature 
 of things. Lothair was very young, and was more thought- 
 ful than studious. His education hitherto had been, ac- 
 cording to Mr. Phoebus, on the right principle, and chiefly 
 in the open air ; but he was intelligent and susceptible, 
 and in the atmosphere of Oxford, now stirred with many 
 thoughts, he had imbibed some particles of knowledge 
 respecting the primaeval races which had permitted him to 
 follow the conversation of Mr. Phoebus not absolutely in a 
 state of hopeless perplexity. He determined to confer with 
 Father Coleman on the Aryan race and the genius of 
 Semitism. As he returned through the park, he observed 
 the Duchess and Lady Corisande in their barouche, resting 
 for a moment in the shade, with Lord Carisbrooke on one 
 side and the Duke of Brecon on the other. 
 
 As he was dressing for dinner, constantly brooding on 
 one thought, the cause of his feeling of disappointment 
 occurred to him. He had hoped in this visit to have 
 established some basis of intimacy, and to have ascertained 
 his prospect and his means of occasionally seeing her. But 
 he had done nothing of the kind. He could not well call 
 again at Belmont under a week, but even then Mr. Phoebus 
 or some one else might be there. The world seemed dark. 
 He wished he had never gone to Oxford. However a man 
 may plan his life he is the creature of circumstances. The 
 unforeseen happens and upsets everything. We are mere 
 puppets.
 
 LOTHAIR. 141 
 
 He sat next to an agreeable woman at dinner, who gave 
 him an interesting account of a new singer she had heard 
 the night before at the Opera ; a fair Scandinavian, fresh 
 as a lily and sweet as a nightingale. 
 
 ' I was resolved to go and hear her,' said the lady ; ' my 
 sister Feodore, at Paris, had written to me so much about 
 her. Do you know, I have never been to the Opera for an 
 age ! That alone was quite a treat to me. I never go to 
 the Opera, nor to the play, nor to anything else. Society 
 has become so large and so exacting, that I have found out 
 one never gets any amusement.' 
 
 ' Do you know, I never was at the Opera,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' I am not at all surprised ; and when you go (which I 
 suppose you will some day), what will most strike you is, 
 that you will not see a single person you ever saw in your 
 life.' 
 
 ' Strange ! ' 
 
 ' Yes ; it shows what a mass of wealth and taste and 
 refinement there is in this wonderful metropolis of ours, 
 quite irrespective of the circles in which -we move, and 
 which we once thought entirely engrossed them.' 
 
 After the ladies had retired, Bertram, who dined at the 
 same house, moved up to him ; and Hugo Bohun came 
 over and took the vacant seat on his other side. 
 
 ' What have you been doing with yourself ? ' said Hugo. 
 ' We have not seen you for a week.' 
 
 ' I went down to Oxford about some horses,' said 
 Lothair. 
 
 ' Fancy going down to Oxford about some horses in the 
 heart of the season,' said Hugo. ' I believe you are selling 
 us, and that, as the " Scorpion " announces, you are going 
 to be married.' 
 
 ' To whom ? ' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Ah ! that is the point. It is a dark horse at present, 
 and we want you to tell us.'
 
 142 LOTHAIR. 
 
 ' Why do not you marry, Hugo ? ' said Bertram. 
 
 ' I respect the institution,' said Hugo, ' which is ad- 
 mitting something in these days ; and I have always 
 thought that every woman should marry, and no man.' 
 
 ' It makes a woman and it mars a man, you think ? ' said 
 Lothair. 
 
 * But I do not exactly see how your view would work 
 practically,' said Bertram. 
 
 'Well, my view is a social problem,' said Hugo, 'and 
 social problems are the fashion at present. It would be 
 solved through the exceptions, which prove the principle. 
 In the first place, there are your swells who cannot avoid 
 the halter : you are booked when you are born ; and then 
 there are moderate men like myself, who have their weak 
 moments. I would not answer for myself if I could find 
 an affectionate family with good shooting and firstrate 
 claret.' 
 
 'There must be many families with such conditions,' 
 said Lothair. 
 
 Hugo shook his head. ' You try. Sometimes the wine 
 is good and the shooting bad; sometimes the reverse; 
 sometimes both are excellent, but then the tempers and the 
 manners are equally detestable/ 
 
 ' I vote we three do something io-morrow,' said Bertram. 
 
 ' What shall it be ? ' said Hugo. 
 
 ' I vote we row down to Richmond at sunset and dine, 
 and then drive our teams up by moonlight. What say you, 
 Lothair ? ' 
 
 ' I cannot, I am engaged. I am engaged to go to the 
 Opera.' 
 
 ' Fancy going to the Opera in this sweltering weather ' 
 exclaimed Bertram. 
 
 ' He must be going to be married,' said Hugo. 
 
 And yet on the following evening, though the weather 
 was quite as sultry and he was not going to be married, to
 
 LOTHAIB. 143 
 
 the Opera Lothair went. While the agreeable lady the 
 day before was dilating at dinner on this once famous 
 entertainment, Lothair remembered that a certain person 
 went there every Saturday evening, and he resolved that 
 he should at least have the satisfaction of seeing her. 
 
 It was altogether a new scene for Lothair, and being 
 much affected by music he found the general influence so 
 fascinating that some little time elapsed before he was 
 sufficiently master of himself to recur to the principal 
 purpose of his presence. His box was on the first tier, 
 where he could observe very generally and yet himself be 
 sufficiently screened. As an astronomer surveys the starry 
 heavens until his searching sight reaches the desired planet, 
 so Lothair's scrutinising vision wandered till his eye at 
 length lighted on the wished-for orb. In the circle above 
 his own, opposite to him but nearer the stage, he recog- 
 nised the Campians. She had a star upon her forehead, as 
 when he first met her some six months ago ; it seemed an age. 
 
 Now what should he do ? He was quite unlearned in 
 the social habits of an opera-house. .He was not aware 
 that he had the privilege of paying the lady a visit in her 
 box, and had he been so, he was really so shy in little 
 things that he never could have summoned resolution to 
 open the door of bis own box and request an attendant to 
 show him that of Mrs. Campian. He had contrived to get 
 to the Opera for the first time in his life, and the effort 
 seemed to have exhausted his social enterprise. So he re- 
 mained still, with his glass fixed very constantly on Mrs. 
 Campian, and occasionally giving himself up to the scene. 
 The performance did not sustain the first impression. 
 There were rival prima-donnas, and they indulged in com- 
 petitive screams : the choruses were coarse, and tha 
 orchestra much too noisy. But the audience were ab- 
 sorbed or enthusiastic. We may be a musical nation, but 
 our taste would seem to require some refinement.
 
 144 . LOTHAIB. 
 
 There was a stir in Mrs. Campian's box ; a gentleman 
 entered and seated himself. Lothair concluded he was an 
 invited guest, and envied him. In about a quarter of an 
 hour the gentleman bowed and retired, and another person 
 came in, and one whom Lothair recognised as a young man 
 who had been sitting during the first act in a stall beneath 
 him. The system of paying visits at the Opera then flashed 
 upon his intelligence, as some discovery in science upon a 
 painful observer. Why should he not pay a visit too ? But 
 how to do it ? At last he was bold enough to open the 
 door of his own box and go forth, but he could find no 
 attendant, and some persons passing his open door, and 
 nearly appropriating his lodge, in a fit of that nervous 
 embarrassment which attends inexperience in little things, 
 he secured his rights by returning baffled to his post. 
 
 There had been a change in Mrs. Campian's box in the 
 interval. Colonel Campian had quitted it, and Mr. Phoebus 
 occupied his place. Whether it were disappointment at 
 his own failure or some other cause, Lothair felt annoyed. 
 He was hot and cold by turns ; felt awkward and blun- 
 dering ; fancied people were looking at him ; that in some 
 inexplicable sense he was ridiculous ; wished he had never 
 gone to the Opera. 
 
 As time, and considerable time, elapsed, he became even 
 miserable. Mr. Phoebus never moved, and Mrs. Campian 
 frequently conversed with him. More than one visitor had 
 in the interval paid their respects to the lady, but Mr. 
 Phoebus never moved. They did not stay, perhaps because 
 Mr. Phoebus never moved. 
 
 Lothair never liked that fellow from the first. Sympathy 
 and antipathy share our being as day and darkness share 
 our lives. Lothair had felt an antipathy for Mr. Phoebus 
 the moment he saw him. He had arrived at Belmont 
 yesterday before Lothair, and he had outstayed him. These 
 might be Aryan principles, but they were not the principles 
 of good breeding.
 
 LOTHAIR. 145 
 
 Lothair determined to go home and never to come to the 
 Opera again. He opened the door of his box with firmness, 
 and slammed it with courage ; he had quite lost his shyness, 
 was indeed ready to run a muck with anyone who crossed 
 him. The slamming of the door summoned a scudding 
 attendant from a distant post, who with breathless devotion 
 enquired whether Lothair wanted anything. 
 
 ' Yes, I want you to show me the way to Mrs. Campian's 
 box.' 
 
 ' Tier above, No. 22,' said the boxkeeper. 
 
 'Ay, ay; but conduct me to it,' said Lothair, and he 
 presented the man with an overpowering honorarium. 
 
 ' Certainly, my Lord,' said the attendant. 
 
 ' He knows me,' thought Lothair ; but it was not so. 
 When the British nation is at once grateful and enthusiastic, 
 they always call you ' my Lord.' 
 
 But in his progress to ' No. 22, tier above,' all his valour 
 evaporated, and when the box-door was opened he felt very 
 much like a convict on the verge of execution ; he changed 
 colour, his legs tottered, his heart beat, and he made his 
 bow with a confused vision. The serenity of Theodora 
 somewhat reassured him, and he seated himself, and even 
 saluted Mr. Phoebus. 
 
 The conversation was vapid and conventional : remarks 
 about tLe Opera and its performers ; even the heat of the 
 weather was mentioned. Lothair had come, and he had 
 nothing to say. Mrs. Campian seemed much interested 
 in the performance ; so, if he had had anything to say, there 
 was no opportunity of expressing it. She had not ap- 
 peared to be so engrossed with the music before his 
 arrival. In the meantime that Phoebus would not move ; 
 a quarter of an hour elapsed, and that Phoebus would not 
 move. Lothair could not stand it any longer ; he rose and 
 bowed. 
 
 ' Are you going ? ' said Theodora. ' Colonel Campian will 
 L
 
 146 LOTHATB. 
 
 be here in a moment ; lie will be quite grieved not to see 
 you.' 
 
 But Lothair was inflexible. ' Perhaps,' she added, ' we 
 may see you to-morrow night ? ' 
 
 ' Never,' said Lothair to himself, as he clenched his teeth ; 
 ' my visit to Belmont was my first and my last. The dream 
 is over.' 
 
 He hurried to a club in which he had been recently 
 initiated, and of which the chief purpose is to prove to 
 mankind that night to a wise man has its resources as well 
 as gaudy day. Here striplings mature their minds in the 
 mysteries of whist, and stimulate their intelligence by 
 playing at stakes which would make their seniors look pale ; 
 here matches are made, and odds are settled, and the cares 
 or enterprises of life are soothed or stimulated by fragrant 
 cheroots or beakers of Badminton. Here, in the society of 
 the listless and freakish St. Aldegonde, and Hugo Bohun, 
 and Bertram, and other congenial spirits, Lothair consigned 
 to oblivion the rival churches of Christendom, the Aryan 
 race, and the genius of Semitism. 
 
 It was an hour past dawn when he strolled home. Lon- 
 don is often beautiful in summer at that hour, the architec- 
 tural lines clear and defined in the smokeless atmosphere, 
 and ever and anon a fragrant gale from gardened balconies 
 wafted in the blue air. Nothing is stirring except wagons 
 of strawberries and asparagus, and no one visible except a 
 policeman or a Member of Parliament returning from a 
 late division, where they have settled some great question 
 that need never have been asked. Eve has its spell'of 
 calmness and consolation, but Dawn brings hope and joy. 
 
 But not to Lothair. Young, sanguine, and susceptible, 
 he had, for a moment, yielded to the excitement of the 
 recent scene, but with his senses stilled by the morning air, 
 and free from the influence of Bertram's ready sympathy, 
 and Hugo Bohun's gay comments on human life, and all
 
 LOTHAIE. 147 
 
 the wild and amusing caprice, and daring wilfulness, and 
 grand affectation that distinguish and inspire a circle of 
 patrician youth, there came over him the consciousness 
 that to him something dark had occurred, something bitter 
 and disappointing and humiliating, and that the breaking 
 morn would not bring to him a day so bright and hopeful 
 as his former ones. 
 
 At first he fell into profound slumber : it was the in- 
 evitable result of the Badminton and the late hour. There 
 was a certain degree of physical exhaustion which com- 
 manded repose. But the slumber was not long, and his 
 first feeling, for it could not be called thought, was that 
 some great misfortune had occurred to him ; and then 
 the thought following the feeling brought up the form of 
 the hated Phoebus. After that he had no real sleep, but a 
 sort of occasional and feverish doze with intervals of infinite 
 distress, waking always to a consciousness of inexpressible 
 mortification and despair. 
 
 About one o'clock, relinquishing all hope of real and re- 
 freshing slumber, he rang his bell, and his valet appearing in- 
 formed him that Father Coleman had called, and the Monsig- 
 nore had called, and that now the Cardinal's secretary had 
 just called, but the valet had announced that his lord was in- 
 disposed. There was also a letter from Lady St. Jerome. 
 This news brought a new train of feeling. Lothair re- 
 membered that this was the day of the great ecclesiastical 
 function, under the' personal auspices of the Cardinal, at 
 which indeed Lothair had never positively promised to 
 assist, his presence at which he had sometimes thought 
 they pressed unreasonably, not to say even indelicately, but 
 at which he had perhaps led them, not without cause, to be- 
 lieve that he would be present. Of late the Monsignore 
 had assumed that Lothair had promised to attend it. 
 
 Why should he not ? The world was all vanity. Never 
 did he feel more convinced than at this moment of the 
 
 L 2
 
 148 LOTHAIR. 
 
 truth, of his conclusion, that if religion were a real thing, 
 man should live for it alone ; but then came the question 
 of the Churches. He could not bring himself without a 
 pang to contemplate a secession from the Church of his 
 fathers. He took refuge in the wild but beautiful thought 
 of a reconciliation between Rome and England. If the 
 consecration of the whole of his fortune to that end could 
 assist in effecting the purpose, he would cheerfully make 
 the sacrifice. He would then go on a pilgrimage to the 
 Holy Sepulchre, and probably conclude his days in a her- 
 mitage on Mount Athos. 
 
 In the meantime he rose, and, invigorated by his bath, 
 his thoughts became in a slight degree more mundane. 
 They recurred to the events of the last few days of his life, 
 but in a spirit of self-reproach and of conscious vanity and 
 weakness. Why, he had not known her a week ! This 
 was Sunday morning, and last Sunday he had attended St. 
 Mary's and offered up his earnest supplications for the unity 
 of Christendom. That was then his sovereign hope and 
 thought. Singular that a casual acquaintance with a 
 stranger, a look, a glance, a word, a nothing, should have 
 so disturbed his spirit and distracted his mind. 
 
 And yet 
 
 And then he fell into an easy-chair, with a hairbrush in 
 either hand, and conjured up in reverie all that had passed 
 since that wondrous morn when he addressed her by the 
 roadside, until the last dark hour when they parted, and 
 for ever. There was not a word she had uttered to him, or 
 to anyone else, that he did not recall ; not a glance, not a 
 gesture : her dress, her countenance, her voice, her hair. 
 And what scenes had all this passed in! What refined 
 and stately loveliness ! Blenheim, and Oxford, and Bel- 
 mont ! They became her. Ah ! why could not life con- 
 sist of the perpetual society of such delightful people in 
 each delightful places ?
 
 LOTKAIR, 149 
 
 His valet entered and informed him that the Monsignoro 
 had returned, and would not be denied. Lothair roused 
 himself from his delicious reverie, and his countenance be- 
 came anxious and disquieted. He would have struggled 
 against the intrusion, and was murmuring resistance to liis 
 hopeless attendant, who shook his head, when the Monsig- 
 nore glided into the room without permission, as the valet 
 disappeared. 
 
 It was a wonderful performance : the Monsignore had at 
 *;he same time to make a reconnaissance and to take up a 
 position, to find out what Lothair intended to do, and yet 
 to act and speak as if he was acquainted with those inten- 
 tions, and was not only aware of, but approved them. He 
 seemed hurried and yet tranquil, almost breathless with 
 solicitude and yet conscious of some satisfactory consum- 
 mation. His tones were at all times hushed, but to-day lie 
 spoke in a whisper, though a whisper of emphasis, and the 
 dark eyes of his delicate aristocratic visage peered into 
 Lothair, even when he was making a remark which seemed 
 to require no scrutiny. 
 
 * It is one of the most important days for England that 
 have happened in our time,' said the Monsignore. ' Lady 
 St. Jerome thinks of nothing else. All our nobility will be 
 there, the best blood in England, and some others who 
 sympathise with the unity of the Church, the real question. 
 Nothing has ever gratified the Cardinal more than your in- 
 tended presence. He sent to you this morning. He would 
 have called himself, but he has much to go through to-day. 
 His Eminence said to me : " It is exactly what I want. 
 Whatever may be our differences, and they are really slight, 
 what I want is to show to the world that the sons of the 
 Church will unite for the cause of Divine truth. It is the 
 only course that can save society." When Lady St. Jerome 
 told him that you were coming this evening, his Eminence 
 was so affected that '
 
 150 LOTHAIB. 
 
 ' But I never said I was coming this evening,' said Lo- 
 ihair, rather dryly, and resolved to struggle, 'either to 
 Lady St. Jerome or to anyone else. I said I would think 
 of it.' 
 
 ' But for a Christian to think of duty is to perform it,' 
 said the Monsignore. ' To be ignorant of a duty is a sin, 
 but to be aware of duty, and not to fulfil it, is heinous.' 
 
 ' But is it a duty ? ' said Lothair, rather doggedly. 
 
 'What ! to serve God and save society ? Do you doubt 
 it ? Have you read the " Declaration of Geneva ? " They 
 have declared war against the Church, the State, and the 
 domestic principle. All the great truths and laws on which 
 the family reposes are denounced. Have you seen Gari- 
 baldi's letter? When it was read, and spoke of the re- 
 ligion of God being propagated throughout the world, there 
 was a universal cry of "No, no! no religion!" But the 
 religion of God was soon so explained as to allay all their 
 fears. It is the religion of science. Instead of Adam, our 
 ancestry is traced to the most grotesque of creatures ; 
 thought is phosphorus, the soul complex nerves, and oui 
 moral sense a secretion of sugar. Do you want these views 
 in England ? Rest assured they are coming. And how 
 are we to contend against them ? Only by Divine truth. 
 And where is Divine truth ? In the Church of Christ : in 
 the gospel of order, peace, and purity.' 
 
 Lothair rose, and paced the room with his eyes on the 
 ground. 
 
 'I wish I had been born in the middle ages,' he ex- 
 claimed, ' or on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, or in some 
 other planet : anywhere, or at any time, but in this country 
 and in this age ! ' 
 
 'That thought is not worthy of you, my Lord,' said 
 Catesby. 'It is a great privilege to live in this country 
 and in this age. It is a great privilege, in the mighty 
 contest between the good and the evil principle, to combat
 
 LOTHAIR. 151 
 
 for the righteous. They stand face to face now, as they 
 have stood before. There is Christianity -which, by reveal- 
 ing the truth, has limited the license of human reason ; 
 there is that human reason which resists revelation as a 
 bondage, which insists upon being atheistical, or polytheis- 
 tical, or pantheistical ; which looks upon the requirements 
 of obedience, justice, truth, and purity, as limitations of 
 human freedom. It is to the Church that God has committed 
 the custody and execution of His truth and law. The 
 Church, as witness, teacher, and judge, contradicts and 
 offends the spirit of license to the quick. This is why it is 
 hated ; this is why it is to be destroyed, and why they are 
 preparing a future of rebellion, tyranny, falsehood, and de- 
 grading debauchery. The Church alone can save us, and 
 you are asked to supplicate the Almighty to-night, under 
 circumstances of deep hope, to favour the union of church- 
 men, and save the human race from the impending deluge.' 
 
 Lothair threw himself again into his seat and sighed. ' I 
 am rather indisposed to-day, my dear Monsignore, which is 
 unusual with me, and scarcely equal to such a theme, 
 doubtless of the deepest interest to me and to all. I myself 
 wish, as you well know, that all mankind were praying 
 under the same roof. I shall continue in seclusion this 
 morning. Perhaps you will permit me to think over what 
 you have said with so much beauty and force.' 
 
 ' I had forgotten that I had a letter to deliver to you,' 
 said Catesby ; and he drew from his breast-pocket a note 
 which he handed to Lothair, who opened it quite uncon- 
 scious of the piercing and even excited observation of his 
 companion. 
 
 Lothair read the letter with a changing countenance, and 
 then he read it again and blushed deeply. The letter was 
 from Miss Arundel. After a slight pause, without looking 
 up, he said, * Nine o'clock is the hour, I believe.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said the Monsignore rather eagerly, ' but were I
 
 152 LOTHAIR. 
 
 you, I would be earlier than that. I would order my 
 carriage at eight. If you will permit me, I will order it for 
 you. You are not quite well. It will save you some little 
 trouble, people coming into the room and all that, and the 
 Cardinal will be there by eight o'clock. 
 
 ' Thank you,' said Lothair ; ' have the kindness then, my 
 dear Monsignore, to order my brougham for me at half- 
 past eight, and just say I can see no one. Adieu ! ' 
 
 And the priest disappeared. 
 
 Lothair remained the whole morning in a most troubled 
 state, pacing his rooms, leaning sometimes with his arm 
 upon the mantelpiece and his face buried in his arm, and 
 often he sighed. About half- past five he rang for his valet 
 and dressed, and in another hour he broke his fast : a little 
 soup, a cutlet, and a glass or two of claret. And then he 
 looked at his watch ; and he looked at his watch every five 
 minutes for the next hour. 
 
 He was in deep reverie when the servant announced 
 that his carriage was ready. He started as from a dream, 
 then pressed his hand to his eyes, and kept it there for 
 some moments, and then, exclaiming ' Jacta est alea,' he 
 descended the stairs. 
 
 ' Where to, my Lord ? ' enquired the servant when he 
 had entered the carriage. 
 
 Lothair seemed to hesitate, and then he said, ' to Belmont.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXT. 
 
 ' BELMONT is the only house I know that is properly lighted,' 
 said Mr. Phoebus, and he looked with complacent criticism 
 round the brilliant saloons. ' I would not visit anyone who 
 had gas in his house ; but even in palaces I find lamps ; it 
 is too dreadful. When they came here first there was an
 
 LOTHAIB. 153 
 
 immense chandelier suspended in each of these rooms, 
 pulling down the ceilings, dwarfing the apartments, leaving 
 the guests all in darkness, and throwing all the light on 
 the roof. The chandelier is the great abomination of furni- 
 ture ; it makes a noble apartment look small. And then 
 they say you cannot light rooms without chandeliers ! 
 Look at these : need anything be more brilliant ? And all 
 the light in the right place : on those who are in the cham- 
 ber. All light should come from the side of a room, and 
 if you choose to have candelabra like these you can always 
 secure sufficient.' 
 
 Theodora was seated on a sofa in conversation with a 
 lady of distinguished mien and with the countenance of a 
 Roman empress. There were various groups in the room, 
 standing or seated. Colonel Campian was attending a lady 
 to the piano where a celebrity presided, a gentleman with 
 cropped head and a long black beard. The lady was of 
 extraordinary beauty ; one of those faces one encounters in 
 Asia Minor, rich, glowing, with dark fringed eyes of tremu- 
 lous lustre ; a figure scarcely less striking, of voluptuous 
 symmetry. Her toilette was exquisite, perhaps a Little too 
 splendid for the occasion, but abstractedly of fine taste, 
 and she held, as she sang, a vast bouquet entirely of white 
 stove flowers. The voice was as sweet as the stephanotis, 
 and the execution faultless. It seemed the perfection of 
 chamber-singing : no shrieks and no screams, none of those 
 agonising experiments which result from the fatal com- 
 petition of rival prima-donnaa. 
 
 She was singing when Lothair was ushered in. Theo- 
 dora rose and greeted him with friendliness. Her glance 
 was that of gratification at his arrival, but the performance 
 prevented any conversation save a few kind remarks inter- 
 changed in a hushed tone. Colonel Campian came up : he 
 seemed quite delighted at renewing his acquaintance with 
 Lothair, and began to talk rather too loudly, which made
 
 154 LOTHAIE. 
 
 some of the gentlemen near the piano turn round with 
 glances of wondering reproach. This embarrassed his 
 newly-arrived guest, who in his distress caught the bow of 
 a lady who recognised him, and whom he instantly remem- 
 bered as Mrs. Putney Giles. There was a vacant chair by 
 her side, and he was glad to occupy it. 
 
 ' Who is that lady ? ' enquired Lothair of his companion 
 when the singing ceased. 
 
 ' That is Madame Phoebus,' said Mrs. Giles. 
 
 ' Madame Phoebus ! ' exclaimed Lothair, with an uncon- 
 scious feeling of some relief. ' She is a very beautiful 
 woman. Who was she ? ' 
 
 ' She is a Cantacuzene, a daughter of the famous Greek 
 merchant. The Cantacuzenes, you know, are great people, 
 descendants of the Greek Emperors. Her uncle is prince of 
 Samos. Mr. Cantacuzene was very much opposed to the 
 match, but I think quite wrong. Mr. Phoebus is a most 
 distinguished man, and the alliance is of the happiest. 
 Never was such mutual devotion.' 
 
 ' I am not surprised,' said Lothair, wonderfully re- 
 lieved. 
 
 ' Her sister Euphrosyne is in the room,' continued Mrs. 
 Giles, ' the most extraordinary resemblance to her. There 
 is just the difference between the matron and the maiden ; 
 that is all. They are nearly of the same age, and before 
 the marriage might have been mistaken for each other. 
 The most charming thing in the world is to hear the two 
 sisters sing together. I hope they may to-night. I know 
 the family very well. It was Mrs. Cantacuzene who intro- 
 duced me to Theodora. You know it is quite en regie to 
 call her Theodora. All the men call her Theodora ; " the 
 divine Theodora " is, I believe, the right thing.' 
 
 ' And do you call her Theodora ? ' asked Lothair, rather 
 dryly. 
 
 ' Why, no,' said Mrs. Giles, a little confused. ' We are
 
 LOTHAIE 155 
 
 not intimate, at least not very. Mrs. (Jampian has been at 
 my house, and I have been here two or three times ; not so 
 often as I could wish, for Mr. Giles, you see, does not like 
 servants and horses to be used on Sundays, and no more 
 do I, and on week days he is too much engaged or too tired 
 to come out this distance ; so you see ' 
 
 The singing had ceased, and Theodora approached them. 
 Addressing Lothair, she said, ' The Princess of Tivoli wishes 
 that you should be presented to her.' 
 
 The Princess of Tivoli was a Roman dame of one of the 
 most illustrious houses, but who now lived at Paris. She 
 had in her time taken an active part in Italian politics, and 
 had sacrificed to the cause to which she was devoted the 
 larger part of a large fortune. What had been spared, how- 
 ever, permitted her to live in the French capital with 
 elegance, if not with splendour; and her saloon was the 
 gathering roof, in Paris, of almost everyone who was cele- 
 brated for genius or accomplishments. Though reputed tc 
 be haughty and capricious, she entertained for Theodora an 
 even passionate friendship, and now visited England only to 
 see her. 
 
 ' Madame Campian has been telling me of all the kind 
 things you did for her at Oxford,' said the Princess. ' Some 
 day you must show me Oxford, but it must be next year. 
 I very much admire the free University life. Tell me now, 
 at Oxford you still have the Protestant religion ? ' 
 
 Lothair ventured to bow assent. 
 
 ' Ah ! that is well,' continued the Princess. ' I advise 
 you to keep it. If we had only had the Protestant religion 
 in Italy, things would have been very different. You are 
 fortunate in this country in having the Protestant religion 
 and a real nobility. Tell me now, in your constitution, if 
 the father sits in the upper chamber, the son sits in the lower 
 bouse ; that I know : but is there any majorat attached to 
 bis seat ? '
 
 156 LOT HAIR. 
 
 * Not at present.' 
 
 ' You sit in the lower house of course ? ' 
 
 ' I am not old enough to sit in either house,' said Lo- 
 thair, ' but when I am of age, which I shall be when I have 
 the honour of showing Oxford to your Highness, I must 
 sit in the upper house, for I have not the blessing of a 
 living father.' 
 
 ' Ah ! that is a great thing in your country,' exclaimed 
 the Princess, 'a man being his own master at so early 
 an age.' 
 
 ' I thought it was a "heritage of woe," ' said Lothair. 
 
 'No, no,' said the Princess ; 'the only tolerable thing in 
 life is action, and action is feeble without youth. What if 
 you do not obtain your immediate object ? you always 
 think you will, and the detail of the adventure is full of 
 rapture. And thus it is the blunders of youth are pre- 
 ferable to the triumphs of manhood, or the successes of 
 old age.' 
 
 ' Well, it will be a consolation for me to remember this 
 when I am in a scrape,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Oh ! you have many, many scrapes awaiting you,' said 
 the Princess. ' Tou may look forward to at least ten years 
 of blunders : that is, illusions ; that is, happiness. Fortu- 
 nate young man ! ' 
 
 Theodora had, without appearing to intend it, relin- 
 quished her seat to Lothair, who continued his conversation 
 with the Princess, whom he liked, but who, he was sorry 
 to hear, was about to leave England, and immediately, 
 that very night. ' Yes,' she said, ' it is my last act of devo- 
 tion. You know in my country we have saints and shrines. 
 All Italians, they say, are fond, are superstitious ; my pil- 
 grimage is to Theodora.' I must come and worship her 
 once a year.' 
 
 A gentleman bowed lowly to the Princess, who returned
 
 LOTHAIR. 157 
 
 his salate with pleased alacrity. ' Do you know who that 
 is ? ' said the Princess to Lothair. ' That is Baron Goze- 
 lius, one of ottr great reputations. He must have just 
 arrived. I \vill present you to him : it is always agreeable 
 to know a great man,' she added ; ' at least Goethe says 
 
 so!' 
 
 The philosopher, at her invitation, took a chair opposite 
 the sofa. Though a profound man, he had all the vivacity 
 and passion which are generally supposed to be peculiar to 
 the superficial. He had remarkable conversational power, 
 which he never spared. Lothair was captivated by his 
 eloquence, his striking observations, his warmth, and the 
 flashing of his southern eye. 
 
 ' Baron Gozelius agrees with your celebrated pastor, Dr 
 Gumming,' said Theodora, with a tinge of demure sarcasm, 
 ' and believes that the end of the world is at hand. 
 
 ' And for the same reasons ? ' enquired Lothair. 
 
 ' Not exactly,' said Theodora, ' but in this instance 
 science and revelation have arrived at the same result, and 
 that is what all desire.' 
 
 ' All that I said was,' said Gozelius, ' that the action of 
 the sun had become so irregular that I thought the chances 
 were in favour of the destruction of our planet. At least, 
 if I were a public office, I would not insure it.' 
 
 * Yet the risk would not be very great under those cir- 
 cumstances,' said Theodora. 
 
 ' The destruction of this world is foretold,' said Lothair ; 
 ' the stars are to fall from the sky ; but while I credit, I 
 cannot bring my mind to comprehend, such a catastrophe.' 
 
 ' I have seen a world created and a world destroyed,' 
 said Gozelius. ' The last was flickering ten years, and 
 it went out as I was watching it.' 
 
 ' And the first ? ' enquired Lothair anxiously. 
 
 ' Disturbed space for half a century ; a great pregnancy.
 
 158 LOTHAIR. 
 
 William Herschel told me it would come when I was a boy, 
 and I cruised for it through two- thirds of my life. It came 
 at last, and it repaid me.' 
 
 There was a stir. Euphrosyne was going to sing with 
 her sister. They swept by Lothair in their progress to the 
 instrument, like the passage of sultanas to some kiosk on 
 the Bosphorus. It seemed to him that he had never be- 
 held anything so resplendent. The air was perfumed by 
 their movement and the rustling of their wondrous robes. 
 'They must be of the Aryan race,' thought Lothair, 
 ' though not of the Phidian type.' They sang a Greek air, 
 and their sweet and touching voices blended with exquisite 
 harmony. Everyone was silent in the room, because every- 
 one was entranced. Then they gave their friends some 
 patriotic lay which required a chorus, the sisters in turn 
 singing a stanza. Mr. Phoebus arranged the chorus in a 
 moment, and there clustered round the piano a number of 
 gentlemen almost as good-looking and picturesque as him- 
 self. Then, while Madame Phoebus was singing, Euphrosyne 
 suddenly and with quickness moved away and approached 
 Theodora, and whispered something to her, but Theodora 
 slightly shook her head and seemed to decline. 
 
 Euphrosyne regained the piano, whispered something to 
 Colonel Campian, who was one of the chorus, and then 
 commenced her own part. Colonel Campian crossed the 
 room and spoke to Theodora, who instantly, without the 
 slightest demur, joined her friends. Lothair felt agitated, 
 as he could not doubt Theodora was going to sing. And 
 so it was ; when Euphrosyne had finished, and the chorus 
 she had inspired had died away, there rose a deep contralto 
 sound, which, though without effort, seemed to Lothair the 
 most thrilling tone he had ever listened to. Deeper and 
 richer, and richer and deeper, it seemed to become, as it 
 wound with exquisite facility through a symphony of de- 
 licious sound, until it ended in a passionate burst, which
 
 LOTHAIR. 159 
 
 made Lothair's heart beat so tumultuously that for a 
 moment he thought he should be overpowered. 
 
 ' I never heard anything so fine in my life,' said Lothair 
 to the French philosopher. 
 
 ' Ah ! if you had heard that woman sing the Marseillaise, 
 as I did once, to three thousand people, then you would 
 know what was fine. Not one of us who would not have 
 died on the spot for her ! ' 
 
 The 'concert was over. The Princess of Tivoli had risen 
 to say farewell. She stood apart with Theodora, holding 
 both her hands, and speaking with earnestness. Then she 
 pressed her lips to Theodora's forehead and said, ' Adieu, 
 my best beloved ; the spring will return.' 
 
 The Princess had disappeared, and Madame Phoebus 
 came up to say good night to her hostess. 
 
 'It is such a delicious night,' said Theodora, 'that I 
 have ordered our strawberries and cream on the terrace. 
 You must not go.' 
 
 And so she invited them all to the terrace. There was 
 not a breath of air, the garden was flooded with moonlight 
 in which the fountain glittered, and the atmosphere was as 
 sweet as it was warm. 
 
 ' I think the moon will melt the ice to-night,' said Theo- 
 dora as she led Madame Phcebus to a table covered with 
 that innocent refreshment in many forms, and pyramids of 
 strawberries, and gentle drinks which the fancy of America 
 could alone devise. , 
 
 ' I wonder we did not pass the whole evening on tho 
 terrace,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' One must sing in a room,' said Euphrosyne, ' or tho 
 nightingales would eclipse us.' 
 
 Lothair looked quickly at the speaker, and caught the 
 glance of a peculiar countenance : mockery blended with 
 Ionian splendour. 
 
 ' I think strawberries and cream the most popular of all
 
 1GO LOTHAJB. 
 
 food,* said Madame Phoebus, as some touched her beautiful 
 lips. 
 
 ' Yes ; and one is not ashamed of eating it,' said Theo- 
 dora. 
 
 Soon there was that stir which precedes the breaking up 
 of an assembly. Mrs. Giles and some others had to return 
 to town. Madame Phcebus and Euphrosyne were near 
 neighbours at Roehampton, but their carriage had been for 
 some time waiting. Mr. Phoebus did not accompany them. 
 He chose to walk home on such a night, and descended 
 into the garden with his remaining friends. 
 
 ' They are going to smoke,' said Theodora to Lothair. 
 ' Is it your habit ? ' 
 
 ' Not yet.' 
 
 * I do not dislike it in the air and at a distance ; but I 
 banish them the terrace. I think smoking must be a great 
 consolation to a soldier ; ' and as she spoke, she moved, 
 and, without formally inviting him, he found himself walk- 
 ing by her side. 
 
 Rather abruptly he said, ' You wore last night at the 
 Opera the same ornament as on the first time I had the 
 pleasure of meeting you.' 
 
 She looked at him with a smile, and a little surprised. 
 ' My solitary trinket ; I fear you will never see any other.' 
 
 ' But you do not despise trinkets ? ' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Oh ! no, they are very well. Once I was decked with 
 jewels and ropes of pearls, like Titian's Queen of Cyprus. 
 I sometimes regret my pearls. There is a reserve about 
 pearls which I like, something soft and dim. But they 
 are all gone, and I ought not to regret them, for they went 
 in a good cause. I kept the star, because it was given to 
 me by a hero, and once we flattered ourselves it was a 
 symbol.' 
 
 ' I wish I were a hero,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' You may yet prove one '
 
 LOTIIAEJ. 161 
 
 4 A.nd if 1 do, may I give you a star ? ' 
 
 ' If it be symbolical.' 
 
 * But of what ? ' 
 
 1 Of an heroic purpose.' 
 
 ' But what is an heroic purpose ? ' exclaimed Lothair. 
 ' Instead of being here to-night, I ought perhaps to have 
 been present at a religious function of the highest and 
 deepest import, which might have influenced my destiny 
 and led to something heroic. But my mind is uncertain 
 and unsettled. I speak to you without reserve, for my 
 heart always entirely opens to you, and I have a sort of 
 unlimited confidence in your judgment. Besides, I have 
 never forgotten what you said at Oxford about religion : 
 that you could not conceive society without religion. It 
 is what I feel myself, and most strongly ; and yet there 
 never was a period when religion was so assailed. There 
 is no doubt the Atheists are bolder, are more completely 
 organised, both as to intellectual and even physical force, 
 than ever was known. I have heard that from the highest 
 authority. For my own part, I think I am prepared to die 
 for Divine truth. I have examined myself severely, but I 
 do not think I should falter. Indeed, can there be for man 
 a nobler duty than to be the champion of God ? But then 
 the question of the Churches interferes. If there were 
 only one Church, I could see my way. Without a Church 
 there can be no true religion, because otherwise you have 
 no security for the truth. I am a member of the Church 
 of England, and when I was at Oxford I thought the An- 
 glican view might be sustained. But of late I have given 
 my mind deeply to these matters, for after all they are the 
 only matters a man should think of ; and I confess to you 
 the claim of Rome to orthodoxy seems to me irresistible. 
 
 'You make no distinction, then, between religion and 
 orthodoxy,' said Theodora. 
 
 ' Certainly I make no difference.' 
 N
 
 162 LOTHAIR, 
 
 ' And yet what is orthodox at Dover is not orthodox at 
 Calais or Ostend. I should be sorry to think that, because 
 there was no orthodoxy in Belgium or France, there was 
 no religion.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Lothair, ' I think I see what you mean.' 
 
 ' Then again, if we go further,' continued Theodora, 
 ' there is the whole of the East ; that certainly is not 
 orthodox according to your views : you may not agree 
 with all or any of their opinions, but you could scarcely 
 maintain that, as communities, they are irreligious.' 
 
 ' Well, you could not certainly,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' So you see,' said Theodora, ' what is called orthodoxy 
 has very little to do with religion ; and a person may be 
 very religious without holding the same dogmas as yourself, 
 or, as some think, without holding any.' 
 
 'According to you, then,' said Lothair, 'the Anglican 
 view might be maintained.' 
 
 ' I do not know what the Anglican view is,' said Theo- 
 dora. ' I do not belong to the Roman or to the Anglican 
 Church.' 
 
 ' And yet you are very religious,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' I hope so ; I try to be so ; and when I fail in any duty, 
 it is not the fault of my religion. I never deceive myself 
 into that ; I know it is my own fault.' 
 
 There was a pause ; but they walked on. The soft 
 splendour of the scene and all its accessories, the moon- 
 light, and the fragrance, and the falling waters, wonder- 
 fully bewitched the spirit of the young Lothair. 
 
 ' There is nothing I would not tell you,' he suddenly ex- 
 claimed, turning to Theodora, ' and sometimes I think there 
 is nothing you would not tell me. Tell me then, I entreat 
 you, what is your religion ? ' 
 
 ' The true religion, I think,' said Theodora. ' I worship 
 in a church where I believe God dwells, and dwells for my 
 guidance and my good : my conscience.'
 
 LOTHAIE. 103 
 
 ' Your conscience may be divine,' said Lothalr, ' and I 
 believe it is ; but the consciences of other persons are not 
 divine, and what is to guide them, and what is to prevent 
 or to mitigate the evil they would perpetrate ? ' 
 
 ' I have never heard from priests,' said Theodora, ' any 
 truth which my conscience had not revealed to me. They 
 use different language from what I use, but I find after a 
 time that we mean the same thing. What I call time they 
 call eternity ; when they describe heaven, they give a 
 picture of earth ; and beings whom they style divine they 
 invest with all the attributes of humanity.' 
 
 ' And yet is it not true,' said Lothair, ' that ' 
 
 But at this moment there were the sounds of merriment 
 and of approaching footsteps ; the form of Mr. Phoebus ap- 
 peared ascending the steps of the terrace, followed by 
 others. The smokers had fulfilled their task. There were 
 farewells, and bows, and good-nights. Lothair had to retire 
 with the others, and as he threw himself into his brougham 
 he exclaimed, ' I perceive that life is not so simple an affair 
 as I once supposed.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 WHEN the stranger, who had proved so opportune an ally 
 to Lothair at the Fenian meeting, separated from his com- 
 panion, he proceeded in the direction of Pentonville, and, 
 after pursuing his way through a number of obscure streets, 
 but quiet, decent, and monotonous, he stopped at a small 
 house in a row of many residences, all of them in form, 
 size, colour, and general character so identical, that the 
 number on the door could alone assure the visitor that he 
 was not in error when he sounded the knocker. 
 
 ' Ah ! is it you, Captain Bruges ? ' said the smiling and 
 v 2
 
 1G4 LOTHAIR. 
 
 blushing maiden who answered to his summons. 'We 
 have not seen you for a long time.' 
 
 ' Well, you look as kind and as pretty as ever, Jenny,' 
 said the Captain ; ' and how is my friend ? ' 
 
 ' Well,' said the damsel, and she shrugged her shoulders, 
 ' he mopes. I'm very glad you have come back, Captain, 
 for he sees very few now, and is always writing. I cannot 
 bear that writing ; if he would only go and take a good 
 walk, I am sure he would be better.' 
 
 ' There is something in that,' said Captain Bruges. ' And 
 is he at home, and will he see me ? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! he is always at home to you, Captain ; but I will 
 just run up and tell him you are here. You know it is long 
 since we have seen you, Captain ; coming on half a year, 1 
 think.' 
 
 ' Time flies, Jenny. Go, my good girl, and I will wait 
 btlow.' 
 
 ' In the parlour, if you please, Captain Bruges. It is to 
 let now. It is more than a month since the Doctor left us. 
 That was a loss, for as long as the Doctor was here, he 
 always had some one to speak with.' 
 
 So Captain Bruges entered the little dining-room, with 
 its mahogany table, and half-a-dozen chairs, and cellaret, 
 and over the fireplace a portrait of Garibaldi, which had 
 been left as a legacy to the landlady by her late lodger, 
 Dr. Tresorio. 
 
 The Captain threw a quick glance at the print, and then 
 falling into reverie, with his hands crossed behind him, 
 paced the little chamber, and was soon lost in thoughts 
 which made him unconscious how long had elapsed when 
 the maiden summoned him. 
 
 Following her, and ascending the staircase, he was 
 ushered into the front room of the first floor, and there 
 came forward to meet him a man rather below the middle 
 height, but of a symmetrical and imposing mien. His
 
 LOTHAIR. 165 
 
 face was grave, not to say sad; thought, not time, had 
 partially silvered the clustering of his raven hair; but 
 intellectual power reigned in his wide brow, while deter 
 tarnation was the character of the rest of his countenance 
 under great control, yet apparently, from the dark flashing 
 of his eye, not incompatible with fanaticism. 
 
 ' General,' he exclaimed, ' your presence always reani- 
 mates me. I shall at least have some news on which I can 
 rely. Your visit is sudden ; sudden things are often 
 happy ones. Is there anything stirring in the promised 
 land ? Speak, speak ! You have a thousand things to 
 say, and I have a thousand ears.' 
 
 ' My dear Mirandola,' replied the visitor, ' I will take 
 leave to call into council a friend whose presence is always 
 profitable.' 
 
 So saying, he took out a cigar-case, and offered it to his 
 companion. 
 
 ' We have smoked together in palaces,' said Mirandola, 
 accepting the proffer with a delicate white hand. 
 
 ' But not these cigars,' replied the General. ' They are 
 superb, my only reward for all my transatlantic work, and 
 sometimes I think a sufficient one.' 
 
 ' And Jenny shall give us a capital cup of coffee,' said 
 Mirandola ; ' it is the only hospitality that I can offer my 
 friends. Give me a light, my General ; and now, how are 
 things ? ' 
 
 ' Well, at the first glance, very bad ; the French have 
 left Rome, and we are not in it.' 
 
 ' Well, that is an infamy not of to-day or yesterday,' 
 replied Mirandola, ' though not less an infamy. We talked 
 over this six months ago, when you were over here about 
 something else, and from that moment unto the present I 
 have with unceasing effort laboured to erase this stigma 
 from the human consciousness, but with no success. Men 
 arc changed ; public spirit is extinct ; the deeds of '48 are
 
 166 LOTHAIR. 
 
 to the present generation as incomprehensible as the Punio 
 wars or the feats of Marius against the Cimbri. What we 
 want are the most natural things in the world, and easy of 
 attainment because they are natural. We want our metro- 
 polis, our native frontiers, and true liberty. Instead of 
 these we have compromises, conventions, provincial jealou- 
 sies, and French prefects. It is disgusting, heartrending ; 
 sometimes I fear my own energies are waning. My health 
 is wretched ; writing and speaking are decidedly bad for 
 me, and I pass my life in writing and speaking. Towards 
 evening I feel utterly exhausted, and am sometimes, which 
 I thought I never could be, the victim of despondency. 
 The loss of the Doctor was a severe blow, but they harried 
 him out of the place. The man of Paris would never rest 
 till he was gone. I was myself thinking of once more 
 trying Switzerland, but the obstacles are great ; and, in 
 truth, I was at my darkest moment when Jenny brought 
 me the light of your name.' 
 
 The General, who had bivouacked on a group of small 
 chairs, his leg on one, his elbow on another, took his cigai 
 from his mouth and delivered himself of a volume of smoke, 
 and then said dryly, ' Things may not be so bad as they 
 seem, comrade. Your efforts have not been without fruit. 
 I have traced them in many quarters, and, indeed, it ia 
 about their possible consequences that I have come over to 
 consult with you.' 
 
 ' Idle words, . I know, never escape those lips,' said 
 Mirandola ; ' speak on.' 
 
 'Well,' said the General, 'you see that people are a 
 little exhausted by the efforts of last year ; and it must be 
 confessed that no slight results were accomplished. The 
 freedom of Venice ' 
 
 ' A French intrigue,' exclaimed Mirandola. ' The free- 
 dom of Venice is the price of the slavery of Rome. I 
 heard of it with disgust.'
 
 LOTHAIK. 167 
 
 4 Well, we do not differ much on that head,' said tho 
 General. ' I am not a Roman as you are, but I view 
 Rome, with reference to the object of my life, with feelings 
 not less ardent and absorbing than yourself, who would 
 wish to see it again the empress of the world. I am a 
 soldier, and love war, and, left to myself, would care little 
 perhaps for what form of government I combated, provided 
 the army was constituted on the principles of fraternity and 
 equality ; but the passion of my life, to which I have sacri- 
 ficed military position, and perhaps,' he added in a lower 
 tone, ' perhaps even military fame, has been to destroy 
 priestcraft, and, so long as the Pope rules in Rome, it will 
 be supreme.' 
 
 'We have struck him down once,' said Mirandola. 
 
 ' And I hope we shall again, and for ever,' said the 
 General, ' and it is about that I would speak. You are in 
 error in supposing that your friends do not sympathise with 
 you, or that their answers are dilatory or evasive. There 
 is much astir ; the old spirit is not extinct, but the diffi- 
 culties are greater than in former days when we had only 
 the Austrians to encounter, and we cannot afford to make 
 another failure.' 
 
 ' There could be no failure if we were clear and deter- 
 mined. There must be a hundred thousand men who 
 would die for our metropolis, our natural frontiers, and 
 true liberty. The mass of the pseudo- Italian army must 
 be with us. As for foreign interference its repetition 
 seems to me impossible. The brotherhood in the different 
 countries, if well guided, could alone prevent it. There 
 should be at once a manifesto addressed to the peoples. 
 They have become absorbed in money-grubbing and what 
 they call industiy. The external life of a nation is its most 
 important one. A nation, as an individual, has duties to 
 fulfil appointed by God and His moral law : the individual 
 towards his family, his town, his country; the nation
 
 168 LOTHAIR. 
 
 towards the country of countries, humanity : the outward 
 world. I firmly believe that we fail and renounce the 
 religious and divine element of our life whenever we 
 betray or neglect those duties. The internal activity of a 
 nation is important and sacred because it prepares the in- 
 strument for its appointed task. It is mere egotism if it 
 converges towards itself, degrading and doomed to expia- 
 tion ; as will be the fate of this country in which we now 
 dwell,' added Mirandola, in a hushed voice. ' England had 
 a mission : it had belief, and it had power. It announced 
 itself the representative of religious, commercial, and poli- 
 tical freedom, and yet, when it came to action, it allowed 
 Denmark to be crushed by Austria and Prussia, and, in 
 the most nefarious transaction of modern times, uttered 
 the approving shriek of " Perish Savoy ! " ' 
 
 ' My dear Mirandola,' said the General, trimming his 
 cigar, ' there is no living man who appreciates your genius 
 and your worth more than myself; perhaps I might say 
 there is no living man who has had equal opportunities of 
 estimating them. You formed the mind of our country ; 
 you kindled and kept alive the sacred flame when all was 
 gloom, and all were without heart. Such prodigious de- 
 votion, so much resource and pertinacity and patience, such 
 unbroken spirit, were never before exhibited by man, and, 
 whatever may be said by your enemies, I know that in the 
 greatest hour of action you proved equal to it ; and yet at 
 this moment, when your friends are again stirring, and 
 there is a hope of spring, I am bound to tell you that there 
 are only two persons in the world who can effect the 
 revolution, and you are not one of them.' 
 
 ' I am ardent, my General, perhaps too sanguine, but I 
 have no self-love, at least none when the interests of the 
 great cause are at stake. Tell me then their names, and 
 count, if required, on my co-operation.' 
 
 ' Garibaldi and Mary- Anne.'
 
 LOTHA1R. 1C9 
 
 ' A Polchinello and a Bayadere ! ' exclaimed Mirandola, 
 and, springing from his seat, he impatiently paced the room. 
 
 ' And yet,' continued the General calmly, ' there is no 
 manner of doubt that Garibaldi is the only name that 
 could collect ten thousand men at any given point in Italy ; 
 while in France, though her influence is mythical, the 
 name of Mary- Anne is a name of magic. Though never 
 mentioned, it is never forgotten. And the slightest allu- 
 sion to it among the initiated will open every heart. There 
 are more secret societies in France at this moment than at 
 any period since '85, though you hear nothing of them ; 
 and they believe in Mary-Anne, and in nothing else.' 
 
 ' You have been at Caprera ? ' said Mirandola 
 
 ' I have been at Caprera.' 
 
 ' And what did he say ? ' 
 
 'He will do nothing without the sanction of the Sa- 
 voyard.' 
 
 'He wants to get wounded in his other foot,' said 
 Mirandola, with savage sarcasm. ' Will he never weary ol 
 being betrayed ? ' 
 
 ' I found him calm and sanguine,' said the General. 
 
 ' What of the woman ? ' 
 
 ' Garibaldi will not move without the Savoyard, and 
 Mary- Anne will not move without Garibaldi ; that is the 
 situation.' 
 
 ' Have you seen her ? ' 
 
 ' Not yet ; I have been to Caprera, and I have come over 
 to see her and you. Italy is ready for the move, and is 
 only waiting for the great man. HJ will not act without 
 the Savoyard ; he believes in him. I will not be sceptical. 
 There are difficulties enough without imagining any. We 
 have no money, and all our sources of supply are drained ; 
 but we have the inspiration of a sacred cause, we have you ; 
 we may gain others, and, at any rate, the French are no 
 longer at Rome.'
 
 170 LOTHAIB. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIIL 
 
 ' THE Goodwood Cup, my Lord ; the Doncaster. This pair 
 of flagons for his Highness the Khedive, something quite 
 new. Yes, parcel-gilt, the only style now ; it gives relief 
 to design : yes, by Monti, a great man, hardly inferior to 
 Flaxman, if at all. Flaxman worked for Rundell and 
 Bridge in the old days, one of the principal causes of their 
 success. Your Lordship's gold service was supplied by 
 Rundell and Bridge. Very fine service indeed, much by 
 Flaxman : nothing of that kind seen now.' 
 
 ' I never did see it,' said Lothair. He was replying to 
 Mr. Ruby, a celebrated jeweller and goldsmith, in a cele- 
 brated street, who had saluted him when he had entered 
 the shop, and called the attention of Lothair to a group of 
 treasures of art. 
 
 ' Strange,' said Mr. Ruby, smiling. ' It is in the next 
 room, if your Lordship would like to see it. I think your 
 Lordship should see your gold service. Mr. Putney Giles 
 ordered it here to be examined and put in order.' 
 
 ' I should like to see it very much,' said Lothair, ' though 
 I came to speak to you about something else.' 
 
 And so Lothair, following Mr. Ruby into an inner apart- 
 ment, had the gratification, for the first time, of seeing his 
 own service of gold plate laid out in completeness, and 
 which had been for some time exhibited to the daily admir- 
 ation of that favoured portion of the English people who 
 frequent the brilliant and glowing counters of Mr. Ruby. 
 
 Not that Lothair was embarrassed by their presence at 
 this moment. The hour of their arrival had not yet come. 
 Business had not long commenced when Lothair entered 
 the shop, somewhat to the surprise of its master. Those
 
 LOTHAIR. 171 
 
 who know Bond Street only in the blaze of fashionable 
 hours can form but an imperfect conception of its matutinal 
 charm, when it is still shady and fresh, when there are no 
 carriages, rarely a cart, and passers-by gliding about 
 on real business. One feels as in some continental city. 
 Then there are time and opportunity to look at the shops ; 
 and there is no street in the world that can furnish such a 
 collection, filled with so many objects of beauty, curiosity, 
 and interest. The jewellers and goldsmiths and dealers in 
 rare furniture ; porcelain, and cabinets, and French pic- 
 tures ; have long fixed upon Bond Street as their favourite 
 quarter, and are not chary of displaying their treasures ; 
 though it may be a question whether some of the magazines 
 of fancy food, delicacies culled from all the climes and 
 regions of the globe, particularly at the matin hour, may 
 not, in their picturesque variety, be the most attractive. 
 The palm, perhaps, would be given to the fishmongers, 
 with their exuberant exhibitions, grouped with skill, 
 startling often with strange forms, dazzling with prismatic 
 tints, and breathing the invigorating redolence of the sea. 
 
 1 Well, I like the service,' said Lothair, ' and am glad, as 
 you tell me, that its fashion has come round again, because 
 there will now be no necessity for ordering a new one. I 
 do not myself much care for plate. I like flowers and por- 
 celain on a table, and I like to see the guests. However, I 
 suppose it is all right, and I must use it. It was not about 
 plate that I called ; I wanted to speak to you about pearls.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Mr. Ruby, and his face brightened ; and 
 ushering Lothair to some glass cases, he at the same time 
 provided his customer with a seat. 
 
 ; Something like that ? ' said Mr. Ruby, who by this time 
 had slid into his proper side of the counter, and was un- 
 locking the glass cases ; ' something like that ? ' and he 
 placed before Lothair a string of pretty pearls with a 
 diamond clasp. ' With the earrings, twenty-five hundred/
 
 172 LOTEAIR. 
 
 he added ; and then, observing that Lothair did not seem 
 enchanted, he said, ' This is something quite new,' and he 
 carelessly pushed towards Lothair a magnificent necklace 
 of turquoises and brilliants. 
 
 It was impossible not to admire it, the arrangement was 
 so novel and yet of such good taste ; but though its price 
 was double that of the pearl necklace, Mr. Ruby did not 
 seem to wish to force attention to it, for he put in Lothair's 
 hands almost immediately the finest emerald necklace in 
 the world, and set in a style that was perfectly ravishing. 
 
 4 The setting is from the Campana collection,' said Mr. 
 Ruby. ' They certainly understood things in those days, 
 but I can say that, so far as mere workmanship is con- 
 cerned, this quite equals them. I have made one for the 
 Empress. Here is a black pearl, very rare, pear shape, 
 and set in Golconda diamonds, two thousand guineas ; it 
 might be suspended to a necklace, or worn as a locket. 
 This is pretty,' and he offered to Lothair a gigantic 
 sapphire in brilliants and in the form of a bracelet. 
 
 ' The finest sapphire I know is in this ring,' added Mr. 
 Ruby, and he introduced his visitor to a tray of precious 
 rings. 4 1 have a pearl bracelet here that your Lordship 
 might like to see,' and he placed before Lothair a case of 
 fifty bracelets, vying with each other in splendour. 
 
 4 But what I want,' said Lothair, 4 are pearls.' 
 
 ' I understand,' said Mr. Ruby. 4 This is a curious 
 tiling,' and he took out a paper packet. ' There ! ' he said, 
 opening it and throwing it before Lothair so carelessly that 
 some of the stones ran over the glass covering of the counter. 
 4 There, that is a thing not to be seen every day, a packet 
 of diamonds, bought of an Indian prince, and sent by us to 
 be cut and polished at Amsterdam (nothing can be done in 
 that way except there), and just returned ; nothing very 
 remarkable as to size, but all of high quality : some fine 
 stones ; that for example,' and he touched one with the
 
 LOTHAIE. 173 
 
 long nail of his little finger ; that is worth seven hundred 
 guineas, the whole packet worth perhaps ten thousand 
 pounds.' 
 
 ' Very interesting,' said Lothair, ' but what I want are 
 pearls. That necklace which you have shown me is like 
 the necklace of a doll. I want pearls, such as you see 
 them in Italian pictures, Titians and Giorgiones, such as a 
 Queen of Cyprus would wear. I want ropes of pearls.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Mr. Ruby, ' I know what your Lordship 
 means. Lady Bideford had something of that kind. She 
 very much deceived us : always told us her necklace must 
 be sold at her death, and she had very bad health. We 
 waited, but when she went, poor lady, it was claimed by 
 the heir, and is in Chancery at this very moment. The 
 Justinianis have ropes of pearls , Madame Justiniani of 
 Paris, I have been told, gives a rope to every one of her 
 children when they marry ; but there is no expectation of 
 a Justiniani parting with anything. Pearls are trouble- 
 some property, my Lord. They require great care ; the;y 
 want both air and exercise ; they must be worn frequently ; 
 you cannot lock them up. The Duchess of Havant has the 
 finest pearls in this country, and I told her Grace, " Wear 
 them whenever you can, wear them at breakfast ;" and 
 her Grace follows mj advice, she does wear them at break- 
 fast. I go down to Havant Castle every year to see her 
 Grace's pearls, and I wipe every one of them myself, and 
 let them lie on a sunny bank in the garden, in a westerlj 
 wind, for hours and days together. Their complexion, 
 would have been ruined had it not been for this treatment. 
 Pearls are like girls, my Lord, they require quite as much 
 attention.' 
 
 ' Then you cannot give me what I want ? ' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Well, I can, and I cannot,' said Mr. Ruby. ' I am in a 
 difficulty. I have in this house exactly what your Lord- 
 ship requires, but I have offered them to Lord Topaz, and
 
 174 LOTHAIR. 
 
 I have not received his answer. We have instructions to 
 inform, his Lordship of every very precious jewel that we ob- 
 tain, and give him the preference as a purchaser. Neverthe- 
 less there is no one I could more desire to oblige than your 
 Lordship ; your Lordship has every claim upon us, and I 
 should be truly glad to find these pearls in your Lordship's 
 possession if I could only see my way. Perhaps your 
 Lordship would like to look at them ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, but pray do not leave me here alone with all 
 these treasures,' said Lothair, as Mr. Ruby was quitting 
 the apartment. 
 
 ' Oh ! my Lord, with you ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, that is all very well ; but if anything is missed 
 hereafter, it will always be remembered that these jewels 
 were in my possession, and I was alone. I highly object 
 to it.' But Mr. Ruby had vanished, and did not imme- 
 diately reappear. In the meantime it was impossible for 
 Lothair to move: he was alone and surrounded with 
 precious necklaces, and glittering rings, and gorgeous 
 bracelets, with loose diamonds running over the counter.' 
 It was not a kind or an amount of property that Lothair, 
 relinquishing the trust, could satisfactorily deliver to a 
 shopman. The shopman, however honest, might be sud- 
 denly tempted by Satan, and take the next train to Liver- 
 pool. He felt therefore relieved when Mr. Ruby re- 
 entered the room, breathless, with a velvet casket. ' I beg 
 pardon, my Lord, a thousand pardons, but I thought I 
 would just run over to Lord Topaz, only in the square 
 close by. His Lordship is at Madrid, the only city one 
 cannot depend on communications with by telegraph. 
 Spaniards strange people, very prejudiced, take all sorts of 
 fancies in their head. Besides, Lord Topaz has more 
 pearls than he can know what to do with, and I should 
 like your Lordship to see these,' and he opened the casket. 
 
 ' Exactly what I want,' exclaimed Lothair ; ' these must
 
 LOTHATB. 175 
 
 be tho very pearls the Queen of Cyprus wore. What is 
 their price ? ' 
 
 ' They are from. Genoa and belonged to a Doge,' said Mr. 
 Ruby ; ' your Lordship shall have them for the sum we 
 gave for them. There shall be no profit on the transac- 
 tion, and we shall be proud of it. We gave for them four 
 thousand guineas.' 
 
 ' I will take them with me,' said Lothair, who was 
 afraid, if he left them behind, Lord Topaz might arrive 
 in the interval. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 LOTHAIR had returned home from his last visit to Belmont 
 agitated by many thoughts, but, generally speaking, deeply 
 musing over its mistress. Considerable speculation on 
 religion, the Churches, the solar system, the cosmical order, 
 the purpose of creation, and the destiny of man, was 
 maintained in his too rapid progress from Roehampton 
 to his Belgravian hotel ; but the association of ideas always 
 terminated the consideration of every topic by a wondering- 
 and deeply interesting enquiry when he should see her 
 again. And here, in order to simplify this narrative, we 
 will at once chronicle the solution of this grave question. 
 On the afternoon of the next day, Lothair mounted hia 
 horse with the intention of calling on Lady St. Jerome, 
 and perhaps some other persons, but it is curious to ob- 
 serve that he soon found himself on the road to Roehamp- 
 ton, where he was in due time paying a visit to Theodora. 
 But what is more remarkable is that the same result 
 occurred every day afterwards. Regularly every day he 
 paid a visit to Belmont. Nor was this all ; very often ho 
 paid two visits, for he remembered that in the evening
 
 176 LOTHAIB. 
 
 Theodora was always at home. Lothair used to hurry to 
 town from his morning visit, dine at some great house, 
 which satisfied the demands of society, and then drive down 
 to lioehampton. The guests of the evening saloon, when 
 they witnessed the high ceremony of Lothair' s manner, 
 which was natural to him, when he entered, and the wel- 
 come of Theodora, could hardly believe that a few hours 
 only had elapsed since their separation. 
 
 And what was the manner of Theodora to him when they 
 were alone ? Precisely as before. She never seemed in the 
 least surprised that he called on her every day, or even twice 
 a day. Sometimes she was alone, frequently she had com- 
 panions, but she was always the same, always appeared 
 gratified at his arrival, and always extended to him the 
 same welcome, graceful and genial, but without a spark of 
 coquetry. Yet she did not affect to conceal that she took a 
 certain interest in him, because she was careful to introduce 
 him to distinguished men, and would say, ' You should 
 know him ; he is master of such a subject. You will hear 
 things that you ought to know.' But all this in a sincere 
 and straightforward manner. Theodora had not the 
 slightest affectation ; she was always natural, though a 
 little reserved. But this reserve appeared to be the result 
 of modesty rather than of any desire of concealment. When 
 they were alone, though always calm, she would talk with 
 freedom and vivacity, but in the presence of others she 
 rather led to their display, and encouraged them, often 
 with a certain degree of adroit simplicity, to descant on 
 topics which interested them, or of which they were com- 
 petent to treat. Alone with Lothair, and they were often 
 alone, though she herself never obtruded the serious subjects 
 round which he was always fluttering, she never avoided 
 them, and without involving herself in elaborate arguments, 
 or degenerating into conversational controversy, she had a 
 habit of asking a question, or expressing a sentiment, whicn 
 greatly affected his feelings or perplexed his opinions.
 
 LOTHAIR. 177 
 
 Had not the season been long waning, this change in the 
 life of Lothair must have been noticed, and its cause ulti- 
 mately discovered. But the social critics cease to be ob- 
 servant towards the end of July. All the world then are 
 thinking of themselves, and have no time to speculate or 
 the fate and fortunes of their neighbours. The campaign is 
 too near its close ; the balance of the season must soon be 
 struck, the great book of society made. In a few weeks, 
 even in a few days, what long and subtle plans shattered 
 or triumphant ! what prizes gained or missed ! what baffled 
 hopes, and what broken hearts ! The baffled hopes must 
 go to Cowes, and the broken hearts to Baden. There were 
 some great ladies who did remark that Lothair was seldom 
 seen at balls ; and Hugo Bohun, who had been staying at 
 his aunt Lady Gertrude's villa for change of air, did say to 
 Bertram that he had met Lothair twice on Barnes Common, 
 and asked Bertram if he knew the reason why. But the 
 fact that Lothair was cruising in waters which their craft 
 never entered combined with the lateness of the season to 
 baffle all the ingenuity of Hugo Bohun, though he generally 
 found out everything. 
 
 The great difficulty which Lothair had to apprehend was 
 with his Roman Catholic friends. The system of the 
 Monsignori was never to let him be out of sight, and his 
 absence from the critical function had not only disappointed 
 but alarmed them. But the Jesuits are wise men ; they 
 never lose their temper. They know when to avoid scenes 
 as well as when to make them. Monsignore Catesby called 
 on Lothair as frequently as before, and never made the 
 slightest allusion to the miscarriage of their expectations. 
 Strange to say, the innocent Lothair, naturally so straight- 
 forward and so honourable, found himself instinctively, 
 almost it might be said unconsciously, defending himself 
 against his invaders with some of their own weapons. He 
 still talked about building his cathedral, of which, not 
 
 X
 
 178 LOTHAIR. 
 
 contented with mere plans, he even gave orders that a model 
 should be made, and he still received statements on points 
 of faith from Father Coleman, on which he made marginal 
 notes and queries. Monsignore Catesby was not altogether 
 satisfied. He was suspicious of some disturbing cause, but 
 at present it baffled him. Their hopes, however, were 
 high ; and they had cause to be sanguine. In a month's 
 time or so, Lothair would be in the country to celebrate 
 his majority; his guardian the Cardinal was to be his 
 guest ; the St. Jeromes were invited, Monsignore Catesby 
 himself. Here would be opportunity and actors to avail 
 themselves of it. 
 
 It was a very few days after the first evening visit of 
 Lothair to Belmont that he found himself one morning 
 alone with Theodora. She was in her bowery boudoir, 
 copying some music for Madame Phoebus, at least in the 
 intervals of conversation. That had not been of a gravo 
 character, but the contrary, when Lothair rather abruptly 
 said, ' Do you agree. Mrs. Campian, with what Mr. Phoebus 
 said the other night, that the greatest pain must be the 
 sense of death ? ' 
 
 'Then mankind is generally spared the greatest pain,' 
 she replied, 'for I apprehend few people are sensible of 
 death, unless indeed,' she added, ' it be on the field of 
 battle ; ^Jid there, I am sure, it cannot be painful.' 
 
 ' Not on the field of battle ? ' asked Lothair, inducing her 
 to proceed. 
 
 ' Well, I should think for all, on the field of battle, there 
 must be a degree of excitement, and of sympathetic ex- 
 citement, scarcely compatible with overwhelming suffering ; 
 but if death wore encountered there for a great cause, I 
 should rather associate it with rapture than pain.' 
 
 ' But still a good number of persons must die in their 
 beds and be conscious,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' It may be, though I should doubt it. The witnesses of
 
 LOTHAJR. 179 
 
 suoh a demise are never impartial. All I have loved and 
 lost have died npon the field of battle ; and those who have 
 suffered pain have been those whom they have left behind ; 
 and that pain, 1 she added with some emotion, ' may perhaps 
 deserve the description of Mr. Phoabus.' 
 
 Lothair would not pursue the subject, and there was 
 rather an awkward pause. Theodora herself broke it, and 
 in a lighter vein, though recurring to the same theme, she 
 said with a slight smile, ' I am scarcely a competent person 
 to consult upon this subject, for, to be candid with you, I 
 do not myself believe in death. There is a change, and 
 doubtless a great one, painful it may be, certainly very per- 
 plexing, but I have a profound conviction of my immortality, 
 and I do not believe that I shall rest in my grave in saecula 
 Bfficulorum, only to be convinced of it by the last trump.' 
 
 * I hope you will not leave this world before I do,' said 
 Lothair ; ' but if that sorrow be reserved for me, promise 
 that to me, if only once, you will reappear.' 
 
 ' I doubt whether the departed have that power,' said 
 Thepdora, ' or else I think my heroes would have revisited 
 me. I lost a father more magnificent than Jove, and two 
 brothers brighter than Apollo, and all of them passionately 
 loved me, and yet they have not come ; but I shall "see 
 them, and perhaps soon. So you see, my dear Lord,' 
 speaking more briskly, and rising rather suddenly from her 
 seat, ' that for my part I think it best to arrange all that 
 concerns one in this world while one inhabits it ; and this 
 reminds me that I have a little business to fulfil in which 
 you can help me,' and she opened a cabinet and took out a 
 flat antique case, and then said, resuming her seat at her 
 table, ' Some one, and anonymously, has made me a 
 magnificent present ; some strings of costly pearls. I am 
 greatly embarrassed with them, for I never wear pearls or 
 anything else, and I never wish to accept presents. To 
 returp them to an unknown is out of my power, but it is 
 
 v 2
 
 180 LOTHAIR. 
 
 not impossible that I may some day become acquainted 
 with the donor. I wish them to be kept in safety, and 
 therefore not by myself, for my life is subject to too great 
 vicissitudes. I have therefore placed them in this case, 
 which I shall now seal and entrust them to your care, as a 
 friend in whom I have entire confidence. See,' she said, 
 lighting a match, and opening the case, ' here are the pearls, 
 are they not superb ? and here is a note which will tell you 
 what to do with them in case of my absence, when you 
 open the case, which will not be for a year from this day. 
 There, it is locked. I have directed it to you, and I will 
 seal it with my father's seal.' 
 
 Lothair was about to speak. * Do not say a word,' she 
 said ; ' this seal is a religious ceremony with me.' She 
 was some little time fulfilling it, so that the impression 
 might be deep and clear. She looked at it earnestly while 
 the wax was cooling, and then she said, ' I deliver the 
 custody of this to a friend whom I entirely trust. Adieu ! ' 
 and she disappeared. 
 
 The amazed Lothair glanced at the seal. It was a single 
 word, ' ROMA,' and then, utterly mystified, he returned to 
 town with his own present. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 MR. PHCEBDS had just finished a picture which he had 
 painted for the Emperor of Russia. It was to depart im- 
 mediately from England for its northern home, except that 
 his Imperial Majesty had consented that it should be ex- 
 hibited for a brief space to the people of England. This 
 was a condition which Mr. Phoebus had made in the in- 
 terests of art, and as a due homage alike to his own 
 patriotism and celebrity.
 
 LOTHAIB. 181 
 
 There was to be a private inspection of the picture at 
 the studio of the artist, and Mr. Phoebus had invited Lothair 
 to attend it. Our friend had accordingly, on the appointed 
 day, driven down to Belmont, and then walked to the resi- 
 dence of Mr. Phcebus with Colonel Campian and his wife. 
 It was a short and pretty walk, entirely through the royal 
 park, which the occupiers of Belmont had the traditionary 
 privilege thus to use. 
 
 The residence of Mr. Phoebus was convenient and agree- 
 able, and in situation not unlike that of Belmont, being 
 sylvan and sequestered. He had himself erected a fine 
 studio, and added it to the original building. The flower 
 garden was bright and curious, and on the lawn was a 
 tent of many colours designed by himself, and which 
 might have suited some splendid field of chivalry. Upon 
 gilt and painted perches also there were paroquets and 
 macaws. 
 
 Lothair on his arrival found many guests assembled, 
 chiefly on the lawn. Mr Phcebus was highly esteemed, 
 and bad distinguished and eminent friends, whose constant 
 courtesies the present occasion allowed him elegantly to 
 acknowledge. There was a polished and grey-headed noble 
 who was the head of the patrons of art in England, whose 
 nod of approbation sometimes made the fortune of a young 
 artist, and whose purchase of pictures for the nation even 
 the furious cognoscenti of the House of Commons dared 
 not question. Some of the finest works of Mr. Phcebus 
 were to be found in his gallery ; but his Lordship admired 
 Madame Phoebus even more than her husband's works, and 
 Euphrosyne as much as her sister. It was sometimes 
 thought, among their friends, that this young lady had 
 only to decide in order to share the widowed coronet ; but 
 Euphrosyne laughed at everything, even her adorers ; and 
 while her witching mockery only rendered them more 
 fascinated, it often prevented critical declarations.
 
 182 LOTHAIB. 
 
 And Lady Beatrice was there, herself an artist, and full 
 of sesthetical enthusiasm. Her hands were beautiful, and 
 she passed her life in modelling them. And Cecrops was 
 there, a rich old bachelor, with, it was supposed, the finest 
 collection of modern pictures extant. His theory was, that 
 a man could not do a wiser thing than invest the whole of 
 his fortune in such securities, and it delighted him to tell 
 his numerous nephews and nieces that he should, in all 
 probability, leave his collection to the nation. 
 
 Clorinda, whose palace was always open to genius, and 
 who delighted in the society of men who had discovered 
 planets, excavated primaeval mounds, painted pictures on 
 new principles, or composed immortal poems which no 
 human being could either scan or construe, but which she 
 recognised as ' subtle ' and full of secret melody, came lean- 
 ing on the arm of a celebrated plenipotentiary, and beaming 
 with sympathy on every subject, and with the consciousness 
 of her universal charms. 
 
 And the accomplished Sir Francis was there, and several 
 R.A.s of eminence, for Phoebus was a true artist and loved 
 the brotherhood, and always placed them in the post of 
 honour. 
 
 No language can describe the fascinating costume of 
 Madame Phoebus and her glittering sister. ' They are 
 habited as sy Ivans,' the great artist deigned to observe, if 
 any of his guests could not refrain from admiring the 
 dresses which he had himself devised. As for the venerable 
 patron of art in Britain, he smiled when he met the lady 
 of the house, and sighed when he glanced at Euphrosyne ; 
 but the first gave him a beautiful flower, and the other 
 fastened it in his buttonhole. He looked like a victim 
 bedecked by the priestesses of some old fane of Hellenic 
 loveliness, and proud of his impending fate. What could 
 the Psalmist mean in the immortal passage ? Threescore 
 and ten, at the present day, is the period of romantio
 
 LOTH AIR. 1S3 
 
 passions. As for our enamoured sexagenarians, they avenge 
 the theories of our cold-hearted youth. 
 
 Mr. Phoebus was an eminent host. It delighted him to 
 see people pleased, and pleased under his influence. He 
 had a belief, not without foundation, that everything was 
 done better under his roof than under that of any other 
 person. The banquet in the air on the present occasion 
 could only be done justice to by the courtly painters of 
 the reign of Louis XV. Vanloo, and Watteau, and Lancre 
 would have caught the graceful groups, and the well- 
 arranged colours, and the faces, some pretty, some a little 
 affected ; the ladies on fantastic chairs of wicker-work, gilt 
 and curiously painted ; the gentlemen, reclining on the 
 turf, or bending behind them with watchful care. The 
 little tables, all different, the soups in delicate cups of 
 Sevres, the wines in golden glass of Venice, the ortolans, 
 the Italian confectionary, the bright bouquets, were worthy 
 of the soft and invisible music that resounded from the 
 pavilion, only varied by the coquetish scream of some 
 macaw, jealous amid all this novelty and excitement of not 
 being noticed. 
 
 ' It is a scene of enchantment,' whispered the chief patron 
 of British art to Madame Phoebus. 
 
 'I always think luncheon in the air rather jolly,' said 
 Madame Phoebus. 
 
 ' It is perfect romance ! ' murmured the chief patron of 
 British art to Euphrosyne. 
 
 ' With a due admixture of reality,' she said, helping him 
 to an enormous truffle, which she extracted from its nap- 
 kin. ' You know you must eat it with butter.' 
 
 Lothair was glad to observe that, though in refined 
 society, none were present with whom he had any previous 
 acquaintance, for he had an instinctive feeling that if Hugo 
 Bohun had been there, or Bertram, or the Duke of Brecon, 
 or any ladies with whom he was familiarly acquainted, he
 
 184 LOTHAIR. 
 
 would scarcely have been able to avail himself of the society 
 of Theodora with the perfect freedom which he now enjoyed. 
 They would all have been asking who she was, where she 
 came from, how long Lothair had known her : all those ques- 
 tions, kind and neighbourly, which under such circumstances 
 occur. He was in a distinguished circle, but one different 
 from that in which he lived. He sat next to Theodora, 
 and Mr. Phoebus constantly hovered about them, ever doing 
 something very graceful, or saying something very bright. 
 Then he would whisper a word to the great Clorinda, who 
 flashed intelligence from her celebrated eyes, and then he 
 made a suggestion to the sesthetical Lady Beatrice, who 
 immediately fell into enthusiasm and eloquence, and took 
 the opportunity of displaying her celebrated hands. 
 
 The time had now arrived when they were to repair to 
 the studio and view the picture. A curtain was over it, 
 and then a silken rope across the chamber, and then some 
 chairs. The subject of the picture was Hero and Leander, 
 chosen by the heir of all the Bussias himself, during a late 
 visit to England. 
 
 'A fascinating subject,' said old Cecrops to Mr. Phoebus, 
 1 but not a very original one.' 
 
 ' The originality of a subject is in its treatment,' was the 
 reply. 
 
 The theme, in the present instance, was certainly not 
 conventionally treated. When the curtain was withdrawn, 
 they beheld a figure of life-like size, exhibiting in un- 
 disguised completeness the perfection of the female form, 
 and yet the painter had so skilfully availed himself of the 
 shadowy and mystic hour and of some gauze-like drapery, 
 which' veiled without concealing his design, that the 
 chastest eye might gaze on his heroine with impunity. The 
 splendour of her upstretched arms held high the beacon 
 light, which threw a glare upon the sublime anxiety of her 
 countenance, while all the tumult of the Hellespont, the
 
 LOTHAIR. 185 
 
 waves, the scudding sky, the opposite shore revealed by a 
 blood-red flash, were touched by tho hand of a master who 
 had never failed. 
 
 The applause was a genuine verdict, and the company 
 after a time began to disperse about the house and gardens. 
 A small circle remained, and passing the silken rope, 
 approached and narrowly scrutinised the picture. Among 
 these were Theodora and Lothair, the chief patron of 
 British art, an R.A. or two, Clorinda, and Lady Beatrice. 
 
 Mr. Phoebus, who left the studio but had now returned, 
 did not disturb them. After awhile he approached the 
 gioup. His air was elate, and was redeemed only from 
 arrogance by the intellect of his brow. The circle started 
 a little as they heard his voice, for they had been unaware 
 of his presence. 
 
 ' To-morrow,' he said, ' the critics will commence. You 
 know who the critics are ? The men who have failed in 
 literature and art.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE lodge-gate of Belmont was opening as Lothair one 
 morning approached it ; a Hansom cab came forth, and in 
 it was a person whose countenance was strongly marked 
 on the memory of Lothair. It was that of his unknown 
 friend at the Fenian meeting. Lothair instantly recognised 
 and cordially saluted him, and his greeting, though hur- 
 riedly, was not ungraciously returned ; but the vehicle did 
 not stop. Lothair called to the driver to halt, but the 
 driver on the contrary stimulated his steed, and in the 
 winding lane was soon out of sight. 
 
 Theodora was not immediately visible. She was neither 
 in her usual apartment nor in her garden ; but it was only
 
 186 LOTHAIR. 
 
 perhaps because Lothair was so full of his own impressiona 
 from his recent encounter at the lodge, that he did not 
 observe that the demeanour of Mrs. Campian when she 
 appeared was hardly marked by her habitual serenity. She 
 entered the room hurriedly, and spoke with quickness. 
 
 ' Pray,' exclaimed Lothair, rather eagerly, ' do tell me 
 the name of the gentleman who has just called here.' 
 
 Theodora changed colour, looked distressed, and was 
 silent ; unobserved however by Lothair, who, absorbed by 
 his own highly excited curiosity, proceeded to explain why 
 he presumed to press for the information. ' I am under 
 great obligations to that person ; I am not sure I may not 
 say I owe him my life, but certainly an extrication from 
 great danger and very embarrassing danger too. I never 
 saw him but once, and he would not give me his name, and 
 scarcely would accept my thanks. I wanted to stop his 
 cab to-day, but it was impossible. He literally galloped 
 off.' 
 
 ' He is a foreigner,' said Mrs. Campian, who had re- 
 covered herself; 'he was a particular friend of my dear 
 father ; and when he visits England, which he does occa- 
 sionally, he calls to see us.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Lothair, ' I hope I shall soon have an op- 
 portunity of expressing to him my gratitude.' 
 
 ' It was so like him not to give his name and to shrink 
 from thanks,' said Mrs. Campiau. ' He never enters society, 
 and makes no acquaintances.' 
 
 ' I am sorry for that,' said Lothair, ' foi it is not only 
 that he served me, but I was much taken with him, and 
 felt that he was a person I should like to cultivate.' 
 
 ' Yes, Captain Bruges is a remarkable man,' said Theo- 
 dora ; ' he is not one to be forgotten.' 
 
 ' Captain Bruges. That then is his name ? ' 
 
 ' He is known by the name of Captain Bruges,' said 
 Theodora, and she hesitated ; and then speaking moro
 
 LOTHAIE. 187 
 
 quickly she added, ' I cannot sanction, I cannot bear, any 
 deception between you and this roof. Bruges is not his 
 real name, nor is the title he assumes his real rank. He is 
 not to be known, and not to be spoken of. He is one, and 
 one of the most eminent, of the great family of sufferers in 
 this world, but sufferers for a divine cause. I myself have 
 been direly stricken in this struggle. When I remember 
 the departed, it is not always easy to bear the thought. I 
 keep it at the bottom of my heart ; but this visit to-day has 
 too terribly revived everything. It is well that you only 
 are here to witness my suffering, but you will not have to 
 witness it again, for we will never again speak of theso 
 matters.' 
 
 Lothair was much touched : his good heart and his good 
 taste alike dissuaded him from attempting commonplace 
 consolation. He ventured to take her hand and pressed it 
 to bis lips. * Dear lady ! ' he murmured, and he led her to 
 a seat. ' I fear my foolish tattle has added to pain which 
 I would gladly bear for you.' 
 
 They talked about nothings : about a new horse which 
 Colonel Campian had just purchased, and which he wanted 
 to show to Lothair ; an old opera revived, but which sounded 
 rather flat ; something amusing that somebody had said, 
 and something absurd which somebody had done. And 
 then, when the ruffled feeling had been quite composed, and 
 all had been brought back to the tenor of their usual plea- 
 sant life, Lothair said suddenly and rather gaily, ' And now, 
 dearest lady, I have a favour to ask. You know my 
 majority is to be achieved and to be celebrated next month. 
 I hope that yourself and Colonel Campian will honour me 
 by being my guests. 1 
 
 Theodora did not at all look like a lady who had received 
 a social attention of the most distinguished class. She 
 . looked embarrassed, and began to murmur something about 
 Colonel Campian, and their never going into society.
 
 188 LOTHAIR. 
 
 * Colonel Campian is going to Scotland, and you are 
 going with him,' said Lothair. ' I know it, for he told me 
 so, and said he could manage the visit to me, if you ap- 
 proved it, quite well. In fact it will fit in with his Scotch 
 visit.' 
 
 * There was some talk once about Scotland,' said Theo- 
 dora, ' but that was a long time ago. Many things have 
 happened since then. I do not think the Scotch visit 
 is by any means so settled as you think.' 
 
 ' But however that may be decided,' said Lothair, ' there 
 can be no reason why you should not come to me.' 
 
 ' It is presumptuous in me, a foreigner, to speak of such 
 matters,' said Theodora ; ' but I fancy that, in such cele- 
 brations as you contemplate, there is, or there should be, 
 some qualification of blood or family connection for be- 
 coming your guests. We should be there quite strangers, 
 and in everybody's way, checking the local and domestic 
 abandon which I should suppose is one of the charms of 
 such meetings.' 
 
 ' I have few relations and scarcely a connection,' said 
 Lothair, rather moodily. ' I can only ask friends to cele- 
 brate my majority, and there are no friends whom I so 
 much regard as those who live at Belmont.' 
 
 ' It is very kind of you to say that, and to feel it ; and J 
 know that you would not say it if you did not feel it,' replied 
 Theodora. ' But still, I think it would be better that we 
 should come to see you at a time when you are less en- 
 gaged ; perhaps you will take Colonel Campian down some 
 day and give him some shooting.' 
 
 ' All I can say is that, if you do not come, it will be the 
 darkest, instead of the brightest, week in my life,' said, 
 Lothair. 'In short, I feel I could not get through the 
 business, I should be so mortified. I cannot restrain my 
 feelings or arrange my countenance. Unless you come, the 
 whole affair will be a complete failure, and worse than a 
 failure.'
 
 LOTHAIR 189 
 
 ' Well, I will speak to Colonel Campion about it,' said 
 Theodora, but with, little animation. 
 
 ' We will both speak to him about it now,' said Lothair, 
 for the Colonel at that moment entered the room and 
 greeted Lothair, as was his custom, cordially. 
 
 ' We are settling the visit to Muriel,' said Lothair ; ' I 
 want to induce Mrs. Campian to come down a day or two 
 before the rest, so that we may have the benefit of her 
 counsel.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 MURIEL TOWERS crowned a wooded steep, part of a wild and 
 winding and sylvan valley at the bottom of which rushed 
 a foaming stream. On the other side of the castle the 
 scene, though extensive, was not less striking, and was 
 essentially romantic. A vast park spread in all directions 
 beyond the limit of the eye, and with much variety of 
 character, ornate near the mansion, and choicely timbered ; 
 in other parts glens and spreading dells, masses of black 
 pines and savage woods ; everywhere, sometimes glittering 
 and sometimes sullen, glimpses of the largest natural lake 
 that inland England boasts, MURIEL MERE, and in the 
 extreme distance moors, and the first crest of mountains. 
 The park, too, was full of life, for there were not only herds 
 of red* and fallow deer, but, in its more secret haunts, 
 wandered a race of wild cattle, extremely savage, white 
 and dove-coloured, and said to be of the time of the 
 Romans. 
 
 It was not without emotion that Lothair beheld the chief 
 Beat of his race. It was not the first time he had visited it. 
 He had a clear and painful recollection of a brief, hurried, 
 unkind glimpse caught of it in his very earliest boyhood.
 
 190 LOTH AIR. 
 
 His uncle had taken him there by some inconvenient cross- 
 railroad, to avail themselves of which they had risen in the 
 dark on a March morning 1 , and in an east wind. When 
 they arrived at their station they had hired an open fly 
 drawn by a single horse, and when they had thus at last 
 reached the uninhabited Towers, they entered by the offices, 
 where Lothair was placed in the steward's room, by a 
 smoky fire, given something to eat, and told that he might 
 walk about and amuse himself, provided he did not go out 
 of sight of the castle, while his uncle and the steward 
 mounted their horses and rode over the estate ; leaving 
 Lothair for hours without companions, and returning just 
 in time, in a shivering twilight, to clutch him up, as it 
 were, by the nape of the neck, twist him back again into 
 the one-horse fly, and regain the railroad ; his uncle praising 
 himself the whole time for the satisfactory and business- 
 like manner in which he had planned and completed the 
 expedition. 
 
 What a contrast to present circumstances ! Although 
 Lothair had wished, and thought he had secured, that his 
 arrival at Muriel should be quite private and even un- 
 known, and that all ceremonies and celebrations should be 
 postponed for a few days, during which he hoped to become 
 a little more familiar with his home, the secret could not 
 be kept, and the county would not tolerate this reserve. 
 He was met at the station by five hundred horsemen all 
 well mounted, and some of them gentlemen of high degree, 
 who insisted upon accompanying him to his gates. His 
 carriage passed under triumphal arches, and choirs of 
 enthusiastic children, waving parochial banners, hymned 
 his auspicious approach. 
 
 At the park-gates his cavalcade quitted him with that 
 delicacy of feeling which always distinguishes Englishmen, 
 however rough their habit. As their attendance was self- 
 invited, they would not intrude upon his home.
 
 LOTHAIR. 191 
 
 ' Your Lordship will have enough to do to-day without 
 being troubled with us,' said their leader as he shook 
 hands with Lothair. 
 
 But Lothair would not part with them thus. With the 
 inspiring recollection of his speech at the Fenian meeting, 
 Lothair was not afraid of rising in his barouche and 
 addressing them. What he said was said very well, and 
 it was addressed to a people who, though the shyest in the 
 world, have a passion for public speaking, than which no 
 achievement more tests reserve. It was something to be a 
 great peer and a great proprietor, and to be young and 
 singularly well-favoured ; but to be able to make a speech, 
 and such a good one, such cordial words in so strong and 
 musical a voice : all felt at once they were in the presence 
 of the natural leader of the county. The enthusiasm of 
 the hunting- field burst forth. They gave him three ringing 
 cheers, and jostled their horses forward that they might 
 grasp his hand. 
 
 The park-gates were open, and the postilions dashed 
 along through scenes of loveliness on which Lothair would 
 fain have lingered, but he consoled himself with the recol- 
 lection that he should probably have an opportunity ol 
 seeing them again. Sometimes his carriage seemed in the 
 heart of an ancient forest ; sometimes the deer, startled at his 
 approach, were scudding over expanding lawns ; then his 
 course wound by the margin of a sinuous lake with green 
 islands and golden gondolas ; and then, after advancing 
 through stately avenues, he arrived at mighty gates of 
 wondrous workmanship, that once had been the boast of a 
 celebrated convent on the Danube, but which, in the days 
 of revolutions, had reached England, and had been obtained 
 by the grandfather of Lothair to guard the choice demesne 
 that was the vicinage of his castle. 
 
 When we remember that Lothair, notwithstanding his 
 rank and vast wealth, had never, from the nature of thinga,
 
 192 LOTHAIK. 
 
 been the master of an establishment, it must be admitted 
 that the present occasion was a little trying for his nervas. 
 The whole household of the Towers were arrayed and 
 arranged in groups on the steps of the chief entrance. 
 The steward of the estate, who had been one of the 
 cavalcade, had galloped on before, and he was of course the 
 leading spirit, and extended his arm to his Lord as Lothair 
 descended from his carriage. The house-steward, the chief 
 butler, the head-gardener, the chief of the kitchen, the 
 head-keeper, the head-forester, and grooms of the stud and 
 of the chambers, formed one group behind the housekeeper, 
 a grave and distinguished-looking female, who curtseyed 
 like the old court ; half a dozen powdered gentlemen, 
 glowing in crimson liveries, indicated the presence of my 
 Lord's footmen ; while the rest of the household, con- 
 siderable in numbers, were arranged in two groups, accord- 
 ing to their sex, and at a respectful distance. 
 
 What struck Lothair (who was always thinking, and 
 who had no inconsiderable fund of humour in his sweet 
 and innocent nature) was the wonderful circumstance that, 
 after so long an interval of neglect and abeyance, he shotild 
 find himself the master of so complete and consummate a 
 household. 
 
 ' Castles and parks,' he thought, ' I had a right to count 
 on, and, perhaps, even pictures, but how I came to possess 
 such a work of art as my groom of the chambers, who 
 seems as respectfully haughty and as calmly graceful as if 
 he were at Brentham itself, and whose coat must have been 
 made in Saville Row, quite bewilders me.' 
 
 But Lothair, though he appreciated Putney Giles, had 
 not yet formed a full conception of the resource and all 
 accomplished providence of that wondrous man, acting 
 under the inspiration of the consummate Apollonia. 
 
 Passing through the entrance hall, a lofty chamber 
 though otherwise of moderate dimensions Lothair was
 
 LOTHAIK. 193 
 
 ushered into his armoury, a gallery two hundred feet long, 
 with suits of complete mail ranged on each side, and the 
 walls otherwise covered with rare and curious weapons. 
 It was impossible, even for the master of this collection, to 
 suppress the delight and the surprise with which he beheld 
 the scene. We must remember, in his excuse, that he 
 beheld it for the first time. 
 
 The armoury led to a large and lofty octagonal chamber, 
 highly decorated, in the centre of which was the tomb of 
 Lothair's grandfather. He had raised it in his lifetime. 
 The tomb was of alabaster surrounded by a railing of pure 
 gold, and crowned with a recumbent figure of the deceased 
 in his coronet ; a fanciful man, who lived in solitude, 
 building castles and making gardens. 
 
 What charmed Lothair most as he proceeded were the 
 number of courts and quadrangles in the castle, all of 
 bright and fantastic architecture, and each of which was a 
 garden, glowing with brilliant colours, and gay with the 
 voice of fountains or the forms of gorgeous birds. Our 
 young friend did not soon weary in his progress ; even the 
 suggestions of the steward, that his Lordship's luncheon 
 was at command, did not restrain him. Ball-rooms, and 
 baronial halls, and long libraries with curiously stained 
 windows, and suites of dazzling saloons where he beheld 
 the original portraits of his parents of which he had minia- 
 tures; he saw them all, and was pleased and interested. 
 But what most struck and even astonished him was the 
 habitable air which pervaded the whole of this enormous 
 structure ; too rare even when families habitually reside in 
 such dwellings ; but almost inconceivable, when it was to 
 be remembered that more than a generation had passed 
 without a human being living in these splendid chambers, 
 scarcely a human word being spoken in them. There was 
 not a refinement of modern furniture that was wanting j 
 
 o
 
 194: LOTH AIR. 
 
 even the tables were covered with the choicest publications 
 of the day. 
 
 ' Mr. Putney Giles proposes to arrive here to-morrow,' 
 eaid the steward. ' He thought your Lordship would like 
 to be a day or two alone.' 
 
 * Ho is the most sensible man I know,' said Lothair ; ' he 
 always does the right thing. I think I will have my 
 luncheon now, Mr. Harvey, and I will go over the cellars 
 to-morrow.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 YES ; Lothair wished to be alone. He had naturally a 
 love of solitude, but the events of the last few hours lent 
 an additional inducement to meditation. He was impressed 
 in a manner and degree not before experienced with the 
 greatness of his inheritance. His worldly position, until 
 to-day, bad been an abstraction. After all he had only 
 been one of a crowd, which he resembled. But the sight 
 of this proud and abounding territory, and the unexpected 
 encounter with his neighbours, brought to him a sense of 
 power and of responsibility. He shrank from neither. 
 The world seemed opening to him with all its delights, and 
 with him duty was one. He was also sensible of the beau- 
 tiful, and the surrounding forms of nature and art charmed 
 him. Let us not forget that extreme youth and perfect health 
 were ingredients not wanting in the spell any more than 
 power or wealth. Was it then complete ? Not without 
 the influence of woman. 
 
 To that gentle yet mystical sway the spirit of Lothair 
 had yielded. What was the precise character of his feel- 
 ings to Theodora, what were his hopes or views, he had 
 hitherto had neither the time nor the inclination to mako
 
 LOTHAIR. 195 
 
 certain. The present was so delightful, and the enjoy- 
 ment of her society had been so constant and complete, 
 that he had ever driven the future from his considera- 
 tion. Had the conduct of Theodora been different, had she 
 deigned to practise on his affections, appealed to his sen- 
 sibility, stimulated or piqued his vanity, it might have 
 been otherwise. In the distraction of his heart, or the 
 disturbance of his temper, he might have arrived at con- 
 clusions, and even expressed them, incompatible with the 
 exquisite and even sublime friendship, which had so 
 strangely and beautifully arisen, like a palace in a dream, 
 and absorbed his being. Although their acquaintance 
 could hardly be numbered by months, there was no living 
 person of whom he had seen so much, or to whom he had 
 opened his heart and mind with such profuse ingenuous- 
 ness. Nor on her part, though apparently shrinking 
 from egotism, had there ever been any intellectual reserve. 
 On the contrary, although never authoritative, and even 
 when touching on her convictions, suggesting rather than 
 dictating them, Lothair could not but feel that during the 
 happy period he had passed in her society, not only his 
 taste had refined but his mind had considerably opened ; 
 his views had become larger, his sympathies had expanded ; 
 he considered with charity things and even persons from 
 whom a year ago he would have recoiled with alarm or 
 aversion. 
 
 The time during which Theodora had been his com- 
 panion was the happiest period of his life. It was more 
 than that ; he could conceive no felicity greater, and all 
 that he desired was that it should endure. Since they 
 first met, scarcely four and twenty hours had passed with- 
 out his being in her presence ; and now, notwithstanding 
 the novelty and the variety of the objects around him, and 
 the vast, and urgent, and personal interest which they in- 
 volved, he felt a want which meeting her, or the daily
 
 196 LOTHAIR. 
 
 prospect of meeting her, cotild alone supply. Her voice 
 lingered in his ear ; he gazed upon a countenance invisible 
 to others ; and he scarcely saw or did anything without 
 almost unconsciously associating with it her opinion or 
 approbation. 
 
 Well, then, the spell was complete. The fitfulness or 
 melancholy which so often are the doom of youth, how- 
 ever otherwise favoured, who do not love, were not the 
 condition, capricious or desponding, of Lothair. In him 
 combined all the accidents and feelings which enchant 
 existence. 
 
 He had been rambling in the solitudes of his park, and 
 had thrown himself on the green shadow of a stately tree, 
 his cheek resting on his arm, and lost in reverie amid the 
 deep and sultry silence. Wealthy and young, noble and 
 full of noble thoughts, with the inspiration of health, sur- 
 rounded by the beautiful, and his heart softened by feel- 
 ings as exquisite, Lothair, nevertheless, could not refrain 
 from pondering over the mystery of that life which seemed 
 destined to bring to him only delight. 
 
 ' Life would be perfect,' he at length exclaimed, ' if it 
 would only last.' But it will not last ; and what then ? 
 He could not reconcile interest in this life with the convic- 
 tion of another, and an eternal one. It seemed to him that, 
 with such a conviction, man could have only one thought 
 and one occupation, the future, and preparation for it. 
 With such a conviction, what they called reality appeared 
 to him more vain and nebulous than the scenes and sights 
 of sleep. And he had that conviction ; at least he had it 
 once. Had he it now ? Yes ; he had it now, but modified 
 perhaps ; in detail. He was not so confident as he was a 
 few months ago, that he could be ushered by a Jesuit from 
 his deathbed to the society of St. Michael and all the 
 Angels. There might be long processes of initiation, in- 
 termediate states of higher probation and refinement.
 
 LOTHAIR. 197 
 
 There might be a horrible and apathetic pause. "When 
 millions of ages appeared to be necessary to mature the 
 crust of a rather insignificant planet, it might be presump- 
 tion in man to assume that his soul, though immortal, was 
 to reach its final destination, regardless of all the influences 
 of space and time. 
 
 And the philosophers and distinguished men of science 
 with whom of late he had frequently enjoyed the oppor- 
 tunity of becoming acquainted, what were their views ? 
 They differed among themselves : did any of them agree 
 with him ? How they accounted for everything except the 
 only point on which man requires revelation ! Chance, 
 necessity, atomic theories, nebular hypotheses, develop- 
 ment, evolution, the origin of worlds, human ancestry; 
 here were high topics on none of which was there lack 
 of argument ; and, in a certain sense, of evidence ; and 
 what then ? There must be design. The reasoning and 
 the research of all philosophy could not be valid against 
 that conviction. If there were no design, why, it would 
 all be nonsense ; and he could not believe in nonsense. 
 And if there were design, there must be intelligence ; and 
 if intelligence, pure intelligence ; and pure intelligence was 
 inconsistent with any disposition but perfect good. But 
 between the all-wise and the all-benevolent and man, 
 according to the new philosophers, no relations were to be 
 any longer acknowledged. They renounce in despair the 
 possibility of bringing man into connexion with that First 
 Cause which they can neither explain nor deny. But 
 man requires that there shall be direct relations between 
 the created and the Creator ; and that in those relations 
 he should find a solution of the perplexities of existence. 
 The brain that teems with illimitable thought will never 
 recognise as his creator any power of nature, however 
 irresistible, that is not gifted with consciousness. Atheism 
 may be consistent with fine taste, and fine taste under
 
 198 LOTH AIR. 
 
 certain conditions may for a time regulate a polished 
 society ; but ethics with atheism are impossible ; and with- 
 out ethics no human order can be strong or permanent. 
 
 The Church comes forward, and, without equivocation, 
 offers to establish direct relations between God and man. 
 Philosophy denies its title, and disputes its power. Why ? 
 Because they are founded on the supernatural. What is 
 the supernatural ? Can there be anything more miraculous 
 than the existence of man and the world ? anything more 
 literally supernatural than the origin of things? The 
 Church explains what no one else pretends to explain, and 
 which, everyone agrees, it is of first moment should be 
 made clear. 
 
 The clouds of a summer eve were glowing in the creative 
 and flickering blaze of the vanished sun, that had passed 
 like a monarch from the admiring sight, yet left his pomp 
 behind. The golden and umber vapours fell into forms 
 what to the eye of the musing Lothair depicted the objects 
 of his frequent meditation. There seemed to rise in the 
 horizon the dome and campaniles and lofty aisles of some 
 celestial fane, such as he had often more than dreamed of 
 raising to the revealed author of life and death. Altars 
 arose and sacred shrines, and delicate chantries and fretted 
 spires ; now the flashing phantom of heavenly choirs, and 
 then the dim response of cowled and earthly cenobitos : 
 
 These are black Vesper's pageants !
 
 LOTEAIB. 199 
 
 CHAPTER yxXTX. 
 
 LOTHAIB was quite glad to see Mr. Putney Giles. That 
 gentleman indeed was an universal favourite. He was in- 
 telligent, acquainted with everything except theology and 
 metaphysics, liked to oblige, a little to patronise, never 
 made difficulties, and always overcame them. Hia bright 
 blue eye, open forehead, and sunny face indicated a man 
 full of resource, and with a temper of natural sweetness. 
 
 The lawyer and his noble client had a great deal of 
 business to transact. Lothair was to know his position in 
 detail preparatory to releasing his guardians from their 
 responsibilities, and assuming the management of his own 
 affairs. Mr. Putney Giles was a first-rate man of business. 
 With all his pleasant, easy manner he was precise and 
 methodical, and was not content that his client should be 
 less master of his own affairs than his lawyer. The morn- 
 ings passed over a table covered with despatch-boxes and 
 piles of ticketed and banded papers, and then they looked 
 after the workmen who were preparing for the impending 
 festivals, or rode over the estate. 
 
 ' That is our weak point,' said Mr. Putney Giles, point- 
 ing to a distant part of the valley. ' We ought to have 
 both sides of the valley. Your Lordship will have to con- 
 sider whether you can devote the 200,OOOZ. of the second 
 and extinct trust to a better purpose than in obtaining 
 that estate.' 
 
 Lothair had always destined that particular sum for the 
 cathedral, the raising of which was to have been the first 
 achievement of hia majority ; but he did not reply. 
 
 In a few days the guests began to arrive, but gradually. 
 The Duke and Duchess and Lady Corisande came the first,
 
 200 LOTHAIR. 
 
 and were one day alone with Lothair, for Mr. Putney Gilea 
 had departed to fetch Apollonia. 
 
 Lothair was unaffectedly gratified at not only receiving 
 his friends at his own castle, but under these circumstances 
 of intimacy. They had been the first persons who had 
 been kind to him, and he really loved the whole family. 
 They arrived rather late, but he would show them to their 
 rooms, and they were choice ones, himself, and then they 
 dined together in the small green dining-room. Nothing 
 could be more graceful or more cordial than the whole 
 affair. The Duchess seemed to beam with affectionate 
 pleasure as Lothair fulfilled his duties as their host ; the 
 Duke praised the claret, and he seldom praised anything ; 
 while Lady Corisande only regretted that the impending 
 twilight had prevented her from seeing the beautiful coun- 
 try, and expressed lively interest in the morrow's inspec- 
 tion of the castle and domain. Sometimes her eyes met 
 those of Lothair, and she was so happy that she uncon- 
 sciously smiled. 
 
 ' And to-morrow,' said Lothair, ' I am delighted to say, 
 we shall have to ourselves ; at least all the morning. We 
 will see the castle first, and then, after luncheon, we will 
 drive about everywhere.' 
 
 ' Everywhere,' said Corisande. 
 
 ' It was very nice your asking us first, and alone,' said 
 the Duchess. 
 
 'It was very nice you coming, dear Duchess,' said 
 Lothair, ' and most kind, as you ever are to me.' 
 
 ' Duke of Brecon is coming to you on Thursday,' said 
 the Duke ; ' he told me so at White's.' 
 
 ' Perhaps you would like to know, Duchess, whom you 
 are going to meet,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' I should much like to hear. Pray tell us.' 
 
 ' It is a rather formidable array,' said Lothair, and he 
 took out a paper. ' First, there are all the notables of the
 
 LOTHAIR. 201 
 
 county. 1 do not know any of them personally, so 1 
 wrote to each of them a letter, as well as sending them a 
 formal invitation. I thought that was right.' 
 
 ' Quite right,' said the Duchess. ' Nothing could be 
 more proper.' 
 
 ' Well, the first person, of course, is the Lord Lieutenant. 
 He is coming.' 
 
 ' By the bye, let me see, who is your lord lieutenant ? ' 
 said the Duke. 
 
 ' Lord Agramont.' 
 
 ' To be sure. I was at college with him, a very good 
 fellow ; but I have never met him since, except once at 
 Boodle's ; and I never saw a man BO red and grey, and I 
 remember him such a good-looking fellow ! He must have 
 lived immensely in the country, and never thought of his 
 person,' said the Duke in a tone of pity, and playing with 
 his moustache. 
 
 ' Is there a Lady Agramont ? ' enquired the Duchess. 
 
 * Oh yes ! and she also honours me with her presence,' 
 said Lothair. 
 
 * And who was Lady Agramont ? ' 
 
 * Oh ! his cousin,' said the Duke. ' The Agramonts 
 always marry their cousins. His father did the same 
 thing. They are so shy. It is a family that never was in 
 society and never will be. I was at Agramont Castle once 
 when I was at college, and I never shall forget it. We 
 used to sit down forty or fifty every day to dinner, entirely 
 maiden aunts and clergymen, and that sort of thing. How- 
 ever, I shall be truly glad to see Agramont again, for, not- 
 withstanding all these disadvantages, he is a thoroughly 
 good fellow.' 
 
 'Then there is the High Sheriff,' continued Lothair; 
 * and both the county members and tneir wives ; and Mrs. 
 High Sheriff too. I believe there is some tremendous 
 question respecting the precedency of this lady. There is
 
 202 LOTHA1R. 
 
 no doubt that, in the county, the High Sheriff takes 
 precedence of everyone, even of the Lord Lieutenant ; but 
 how about his wife ? Perhaps your Grace could aid me ? 
 Mr. Putney Giles said he would write about it to the 
 Heralds' College.' 
 
 ' I should give her the benefit of any doubt,' said the 
 Duchess. 
 
 1 And then our Bishop is coming,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Oh ! I am so glad you have asked the Bishop,' said 
 Lady Corisande. 
 
 ' There could be no doubt about it,' said Lothair. ' I do 
 not know how his Lordship will get on with one of my 
 guardians, the Cardinal ; but his Eminence is not here in a 
 priestly character ; and, as for that, there is less chance of 
 his differing with the Cardinal than with my other guardian, 
 Lord Culloden, who is a member of the Free Kirk.' 
 
 ' Is Lord Culloden coming ? ' said the Duchess. 
 
 'Yes, and with two daughters, Flora and Grizell. I 
 remember my cousins, good-natured little girls, but Mr. 
 Putney Giles tells me that the shortest is six feet high.' 
 
 ' I think we shall have a very amusing party,' said the 
 Duchess. 
 
 ' You know all the others,' said Lothair. * No, by the 
 bye, there is the Dean of my college coming, and Mon- 
 signore Catesby, a great Mend of the St. Jeromes.' 
 
 Lady Corisande looked grave. 
 
 'The St. Jeromes will be here to-morrow,' continued 
 Lothair, ' and the Montairys and the St. Aldegondes. I 
 have half an idea that Bertram and Carisbrooke and Hugo 
 Bohun will be here to-night ; Duke of Brecon on Thursday. 
 And that, I think, is all, except an American lady and 
 gentleman, whom I think you will like ; great friends of 
 mine : I knew them this year at Oxford, and they were 
 very kind to me. He is a man of considerable fortune ; 
 they have lived at Paris a good deal.'
 
 LOTIIAIB. 203 
 
 ' 1 have known Americans who lived at Paris,' said the 
 Duke ; ' very good sort of people, and no end of money 
 some of them.' 
 
 'I believe Colonel Campian has large estates in the 
 South,' said Lothair ; 'but, though really I have no right 
 to speak of his affairs, he must have suffered very much.' 
 
 ' Well, he has the consolation of suffering in a good 
 cause,' said the Duke. ' I shall be happy to make his 
 acquaintance. I look upon an American gentleman with 
 large estates in the South as a real aristocrat ; and whether 
 he gets his rents, or whatever his returns may be, or not, I 
 should always treat him with respect.' 
 
 ' I have heard the American women are very pretty,' 
 said Lady Corisande. 
 
 * Mrs. Campian is very distinguished,' said Lothair ; 
 ' but I think she was an Italian.' 
 
 ' They promise to be an interesting addition to our 
 party,' said the Duchess, and she rose. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 THERE never was anything so successful as the arrange- 
 ments of the next day. After breakfast they inspected the 
 castle, and in the easiest manner, without form and without 
 hurry, resting occasionally in a gallery or a saloon, never 
 examining a cabinet, and only looking at a picture now 
 and then. Generally speaking, nothing is more fatiguing 
 than the survey of a great house, but this enterprise was 
 conducted with so much tact and consideration, and much 
 which they had to see was so beautiful and novel, that 
 everyone was interested, and remained quite fresh for 
 their subsequent exertions. 'And then the Duke ia BO 
 much amused,' said the Duchess to her daughter, delighted
 
 204 LOTHAIR. 
 
 at the unusual excitement of the handsome, but somewhat 
 too serene, partner of her life. 
 
 After luncheon they visited the gardens, which had been 
 formed in a sylvan valley enclosed with gilded gates. The 
 creator of this paradise had been favoured by nature, and 
 had availed himself of this opportunity. The contrast 
 between the parterres blazing with colour and the sylvan 
 background, the undulating paths over romantic heights, 
 the fanes and the fountains, the glittering statues, and the 
 Babylonian terraces, formed a whole much of which was 
 beautiful, and all of which was striking and singular. 
 
 ' Perhaps too many temples,' said Lothair, ' but this an- 
 cestor of mine had some imagination.' 
 
 A carriage met them on the other side of the valley, and 
 then they soon entered the park. 
 
 ' I am almost as much a stranger here as yourself, dear 
 Duchess,' said Lothair ; ' but I have seen some parts which 
 I think will please you.' And they commenced a drive of 
 varying, but unceasing, beauty. 
 
 'I hope I shall see the wild cattle,' said Lady Corisande, 
 
 Lady Corisande saw the wild cattle, and many other 
 things which gratified and charmed her. It was a long drive, 
 even of hours, and yet no one was for a moment wearied. 
 
 ' What a delightful day ! ' Lady Corisande exclaimed in 
 her mother's dressing-room. ' I have never seen any place 
 so beautiful.' 
 
 ' I agree with you,' said the Duchess; ' but what pleases 
 me most are his manners. They were always kind and 
 natural, but they are so polished, so exactly what they 
 ought to be ; and he always says the right thing. I never 
 knew anyone who had so matured.' 
 
 ' Yes ; it is very little more than a year since he came 
 to us at Brentham,' said Lady Corisande thoughtfully. 
 'Certainly he has greatly changed. I remember he could 
 hardly open his lips ; and now I think him very agreeable.'
 
 LOTHAIR. 205 
 
 ' He is more than that,' said the Duchess, ' he is in- 
 teresting.' 
 
 ' Tes,' said Lady Corisande ; ' he is interesting.' 
 
 'What delights me,' said the Duchess, 'is to see his en- 
 joyment of his position. He seems to take such an interest 
 in everything. It makes me happy to see him so happy.' 
 
 ' "Well, I hardly know,' said Lady Corisande, ' about that. 
 There is something occasionally about his expression which 
 I should hardly describe as indicative of happiness or 
 content. It would be ungrateful to describe one as distrait, 
 who seems to watch all one's wants, and hangs on every 
 word ; and yet, especially as we returned, and when we 
 were all of us a little silent, there was a remarkable abstrac- 
 tion about him ; I caught it once or twice before, earlier in 
 the day ; his mind seemed in another place, and anxiously. 1 
 
 ' He has a great deal to think of,' said the Duchess. 
 
 *I fear it is that dreadful Monsignore Catesby,' said 
 Lady Corisande with a sigh. 
 
 CHAPTER XL1. 
 
 THE arrival of the guests was arranged with judgment. 
 The personal friends came first ; the formal visitors were 
 invited only for the day before the public ceremonies com- 
 menced. No' more dinners in small green dining-rooms. 
 While the Duchess was dressing, Bertha St. Aldegonde and 
 Victoria Montairy, who had just arrived, came in to give her 
 a rapid embrace while their own toilettes were unpacking. 
 
 ' Granville has come, mamma ; I did not think that he 
 would till the last moment. He said he was so afraid of 
 being bored. There is a large party by this train ; the St. 
 Jeromes, Bertram, Mr. Bohun, Lord Carisbrooke, and some 
 others we do not know.'
 
 206 LOTHAIR. 
 
 The Cardinal had been expected to-day, but Tie had tele- 
 graphed that his arrival must be postponed in consequence 
 of business until the morrow, which day had been pre- 
 viously fixed for the arrival of his fellow guardian and 
 trustee, the Earl of Culloden, and his daughters, the Ladies 
 Flora and Grizell Falkirk. Mons ignore Catesby had, how- 
 ever, arrived by this train, and the persons ' whom they 
 did not know,' the Campians. 
 
 Ijothair waited on Colonel Campian immediately and 
 welcomed him, but he did not see Theodora. Still he had 
 enquired after her, and left her a message, and hoped that 
 she would take some tea ; and thus, as he flattered himself, 
 broken a little the strangeness of their meeting under his 
 roof; but, notwithstanding all this, when she really entered 
 the drawing-room he was seized with such a palpitation of 
 the heart that for a moment he thought he should be un- 
 equal to the situation. But the serenity of Theodora re- 
 assured him. The Campians came in late, and all eyes 
 were upon them. Lothair presented Theodora to the 
 Duchess, who being prepared for the occasion, said exactly 
 the right thing in the best manner, and invited Mrs. Cam- 
 pian to sit by her, and then Theodora being launched, 
 Lothair whispered something to the Duke, who nodded, 
 and the Colonel was introduced to his Grace. The Duke, 
 always polite but generally cold, was more than courteous ; 
 he was cordial ; he seemed to enjoy the opportunity of ex- 
 pressing his high consideration for a gentleman of the 
 Southern States. 
 
 So the first step was over ; Lothair recovered himself; 
 the palpitation subsided ; and the world still went on. 
 The Campians had made a good start, and the favourable 
 impression hourly increased. At dinner Theodora sat be- 
 tween Lord St. Jerome and Bertram, and talked more to 
 the middle-aged peer than to the distinguished youth, who 
 would willingly have engrossed her attention. All mothers
 
 LOTHAIK. 207 
 
 admire such discretion, especially in a young and beautiful 
 married woman, so the verdict of the evening among the 
 great ladies was, that Theodora was distinguished, and that 
 all she said or did was in good taste. On the plea of her 
 being a foreigner, she was at once admitted into a certain 
 degree of social intimacy. Had she had the misfortune of 
 being native-born and had flirted with Bertram, she would 
 probably, particularly with so much beauty, have been 
 looked upon as ' a horrid woman,' and have been relegated 
 for amusement, during her visit, to the attentions of the 
 dark sex. But, strange to say, the social success of Colonel 
 Campian was not less eminent than that of his dis- 
 tinguished wife. The character which the Duke gave of 
 him commanded universal sympathy. ' You know he is a 
 gentleman,' said the Duke ; ' he is not a Yankee. People 
 make the greatest mistakes about these things. He is a 
 gentleman of the South ; they have no property but land ; 
 and I am told his territory was immense. He always 
 lived at Paris and in the highest style, disgusted of course 
 with his own country. It is not unlikely he may have lost 
 his estates now ; but that makes no difference to me. I 
 shall treat him and all Southern gentlemen, as our fathers 
 treated the emigrant nobility of France.' 
 
 4 Hugo,' said St. Aldegonde to Mr. Bohun, ' I wish you 
 would tell Bertha to come to me. I want her. She is 
 talking to a lot of women at the other end of the room, 
 and, if I go to her, I am afraid they will get hold of me.' 
 
 The future Duchess, who lived only to humour her lord, 
 was at his side in an instant. ' You wanted me, Gran- 
 ville ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; you know I was afraid, Bertha, I should be bored 
 here. I am not bored. I like this American fellow. Ho 
 understands the only two subjects which interest me; 
 horses and tobacco.' 
 
 ' I am charmed, Granville, that yon are not bored I
 
 208 LOTHAIR. 
 
 told mamma that you were very much afraid you would 
 be.' 
 
 ' Yes ; but I tell you what, Bertha, I cannot stand any 
 of the ceremonies. I shall go before they begin. Why 
 cannot Lothair be content with receiving his friends in a 
 quiet way ? It is all humbug about the county. If he 
 wants to do something for the county, he can build a wing 
 to the infirmary, or something of that sort, and not bore 
 us with speeches and fireworks. It is a sort of thing I 
 cannot stand.' 
 
 And you shall not, dear Granville. The moment you are 
 bored, you shall go. Only you are not bored at present.' 
 
 ' Not at present ; but I expected to be.' 
 
 'Yes; so I told mamma; but that makes the present 
 more delightful.' 
 
 The St. Jeromes were going to Italy and immediately. 
 Their departure had only been postponed in order that 
 they might be present at the majority of Lothair. Miss 
 Arundelhad at length succeeded in her great object. They 
 were to pass the winter at Rome. Lord St. Jerome was 
 quite pleased at having made the acquaintance at dinner of 
 a Roman lady, who spoke English so perfectly ; and Lady 
 St. Jerome, who in consequence fastened upon Theodora, 
 was getting onto ecstasies, which would have been em- 
 barrassing had not her new acquaintance skilfully checked 
 her. 
 
 4 We must be satisfied that we both admire Rome,' said 
 Mrs. Campian, ' though we admire it for different reasons. 
 Although a Roman, I am not a Roman Catholic ; and 
 Colonel Campian's views on Italian affairs generally would, 
 I fear, not entirely agree with Lord St. Jerome's.' 
 
 ' Naturally,' said Lady St. Jerome gracefully dropping 
 the subject, and remembering that Colonel Campian was a 
 citizen of the United States, which accounted in her appre- 
 hension for his peculiar opinions. 
 
 Iiothair, who had been watching his opportunity the
 
 LOTHAIR, 209 
 
 whole evening, approached Theodora. He meant to have 
 expressed his hope that she was not wearied by her journey, 
 but instead of that he said, ' Your presence here makes 
 me inexpressibly happy.' 
 
 1 1 think everybody seems happy to be your guest,' she 
 replied, parrying, as was her custom, with a slight kind 
 smile, and a low, sweet, unembarrassed voice, any per- 
 sonal allusion from Lothair of unusual energy or ardour. 
 
 ' I wanted to meet you at the station to-day,' he con- 
 tinued, ' but there were so many people coming, that ' 
 
 and he hesitated. 
 
 ' It would really have been more embarrassing to us 
 than to yourself,' she said. ' Nothing could be better than 
 all*the arrangements.' 
 
 ' I sent my own brougham for you,' said Lothair. ' 1 
 hope there was no mistake about it.' 
 
 ' None : your servant gave us your kind message ; and 
 as for the carriage it was too delightful. Colonel Campion 
 was so pleased with it, that he has promised to give me 
 one, with your permission, exactly the same.' 
 
 ' I wish you would accept the one you used to-day.' 
 
 ' You are too magnificent ; you really must try to for- 
 get, with us, that you are the lord of Muriel Towers. 
 But I will willingly use your carriages as much as you 
 please, for I caught glimpses of beauty to-day in our pro- 
 gress from the station that made me anxious to explore 
 your delightful domain.' 
 
 There was a slight burst of merriment from a distant 
 part of the room, and everybody looked around. Colonel 
 Campian had been telling a story to a group formed of the 
 Duke, St. Aldegonde, and Mr. Bohun. 
 
 ' Best story I ever heard in my life,' exclaimed St. 
 Aldegonde, who prided himself when he did laugh, which 
 was rare, on laughing loud. But even the Duke tittered, 
 and Hugo Bohun smiled. 
 
 p
 
 210 LOTHAIB. 
 
 'I am glad to see the Colonel get on so well with 
 everyone,' said Lothair ; ' I was afraid he might have been 
 bored.' 
 
 ' He does not know what that means,' said Theodora ; 
 ' and he is so natural and so sweet-tempered, and so intel- 
 ligent, that it seems to me he always is popular.' 
 
 ' Do you think that will be a match ? ' said Monsignore 
 Cateshy to Miss Arundel. 
 
 ' Well, I rather believe in the Duke of Brecon,' she 
 replied. They were referring to Lord Carisbrooke who 
 appeared to be devoted to Lady Corisande. * Do you ad- 
 mire the American lady ? ' 
 
 ' Who is an Italian, they tell me, though she does not 
 look like one. What do you think of her ? ' said the Mon- 
 signore, evading, as was his custom, a direct reply. 
 
 ' Well, I think she is very distinguished : unusual. 1 
 wonder where our host became acquainted with them F 
 Do you know ? ' 
 
 ' Not yet ; but I dare say Mr. Bohun can tell us ; ' and he 
 addressed that gentleman accordingly as he was passing by. 
 
 ' Not the most remote idea,' said Mr. Bohun. ' You 
 know the Colonel is not a Yankee ; he is a tremendous 
 swell. The Duke says with more land than he has.' 
 
 ' He seems an agreeable person,' said Miss Arundel. 
 
 ' Well, he tells anecdotes ; he has just been telling one , 
 Granville likes anecdotes ; they amuse him, and he likes to 
 be amused : that is all he cares about. I hate anecdotes, 
 and I always get away when conversation falls into whal 
 Pinto calls its anecdotage.' 
 
 * You do not like to be amused ? ' 
 
 ' Not too much ; I like to be interested.' 
 
 * Well,' said Miss Arundel, ' so long as a person can talk 
 agreeably, I am satisfied. I think to talk well a rare gift ; 
 quite as rare as singing : and yet you expect everyone to 
 be able to talk, and very few to be able to sing.'
 
 LOTHAIE. 211 
 
 There are amusing people who do not interest,' said the 
 Monsignore, 'and interesting people who do not amuse. 
 What I like is an agreeable person.' 
 
 'My idea of an agreeable person,' said Hugo Bohun. 
 ' is a person who agrees with me.' 
 
 'Talking of singing, something is going to happen, 
 said Miss Arundel. 
 
 A note was heard ; a celebrated professor had entered 
 the room and was seated at the piano which he had just 
 touched. There was a general and unconscious hush, and 
 the countenance of Lord St. Aldegonde wore a rueful ex- 
 pression. But affairs turned out better than could be 
 anticipated. A young and pretty girl, dressed in white 
 with a gigantic sash of dazzling beauty, played upon the 
 violin with a grace, and sentiment, and marvellous skill, 
 and passionate expression, worthy of St. Cecilia. She was 
 a Hungarian lady, and this was her English debut. Every- 
 body praised her, and everybody was pleased ; and Lord 
 St. Aldegonde, instead of being bored, took a wondrous 
 rose out of his buttonhole and presented it to her. 
 
 The performance only lasted half an hour, and then the 
 ladies began to think of their bowers. Lady St. Aldegonde, 
 before she quitted the room, was in earnest conversation 
 with her lord. 
 
 ' I have arranged all that you wished, Granville,' she 
 said, speaking rapidly and holding a candlestick. 'We 
 are to see the castle to-morrow, and the gardens and the 
 parks and everything else, but you are not to be bored at 
 all, and not to lose your shooting. The moors are sixteen 
 miles off, but our host says, with an omnibus and a good 
 team (and he will give you a first-rate one), you can do it 
 in an hour and ten minutes, certainly an hour and a 
 quarter; and you are to make your own party in the 
 smoking-room to-night, and take a capital luncheon with 
 Ton.'
 
 212 LOTH AIR. 
 
 ' All right : I shall ask the Yankee ; and I should like 
 to take that Hungarian girl too, if she would only fiddle to 
 us at luncheon.' 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 NEXT day the Cardinal, with his secretary and his chaplain, 
 arrived. Monsignore Catesby received his Eminence at 
 the station, and knelt and kissed his hand as he stepped 
 from the carriage. The Monsignore had wonderfully ma- 
 noeuvred that the whole of the household should have been 
 marshalled to receive this Prince of the Church, and per- 
 haps have performed the same ceremony : no religious 
 recognition, he assured them, in the least degree involved, 
 only an act of not unusual respect to a foreign Prince; 
 but considering that the Bishop of the diocese and his suite 
 were that day expected, to say nothing of the Presbyterian 
 guardian probably arriving by the same train, Lothair 
 would not be persuaded to sanction any ceremony what- 
 ever. Lady St. Jerome and Miss Arundel, however, did 
 their best to compensate for this omission with reverences 
 which a posture master might have envied, and certainly 
 would not have surpassed. They seemed to sink into the 
 earth, and then slowly and supernaturally to emerge. The 
 Bishop had been at college with the Cardinal and intimate 
 with him, though they now met for the first time since his 
 secession : a not uninteresting rencounter. The Bishop was 
 high-church, and would not himself have made a bad car- 
 dinal, being polished and plausible, well-lettered, yet quite 
 a man of the world. He was fond of society, and justified 
 his taste in this respect by the flattering belief that by his 
 presence he was extending the power of the Church ; cer- 
 tainly favouring an ambition which could not be described 
 as being moderate. The Bishop had no abstract prejudice
 
 LOTHAIR. 213 
 
 against gentlemen who wore r"ed hats, and under ordinary 
 circumstances would have welcomed his brother churchman 
 with unaffected cordiality, not to say sympathy ; but in the 
 present instance, however gracious his mien and honeyed 
 his expression**, he only looked upon the Cardinal as a 
 dangerous rival, intent upon clutching from his fold the most 
 precious of his flock, and he had long looked to this occasion 
 as the one which might decide the spiritual welfare and career 
 of Lothair. The odds were not to be despised. There were 
 two Monsignores in the room besides the Cardinal, but the 
 Bishop was a man of contrivance and resolution, not easily 
 disheartened or defeated. Nor was he without allies. He 
 did not count much on the University don, who was to 
 arrive on the morrow in the shape of the head of an Oxford 
 house, though he was a don of magnitude. This eminent 
 personage had already let Lothair slip from his influence. 
 But the Bishop had a subtle counsellor in his chaplain, 
 who wore as good a cassock as any Monsignore, and tie 
 brought with him also a trusty archdeacon in a purple 
 coat, whose countenance was quite entitled to a place in 
 the Acta Sanctorum. 
 
 It was amusing to observe the elaborate courtesy and 
 more than Christian kindness which the rival prelates and 
 their official followers extended to each other. But under 
 all this unction on both sides were unceasing observation, 
 and a vigilance that never flagged ; and on both sides there 
 was an uneasy but irresistible conviction that they were 
 on the eve of one of the decisive battles of the social world. 
 Lord Culloden also at length appeared with his daughters, 
 Ladies Flora and Grizell. They were quite as tall as Mr. 
 Putney Giles had reported, but very pretty, with radiant 
 complexions, sunny blue eyes, and flaxen locks. Their 
 dimples and white shoulders and small feet and hands were 
 much admired. Mr. Giles also returned with Apollonia ; 
 and at length also appeared the rival of Lord Carisbrooke, 
 his Grace of Brecon
 
 214 LOTHAIR. 
 
 Lothair had passed a happy morning, for ho had con- 
 trived, without difficulty, to be the companion of Theodora 
 during the greater part of it. As the Duchess and Lady 
 Corisande had already inspected the castle, they disappeared 
 after breakfast to write letters ; and when the after-luncheon 
 expedition took place, Lothair allotted them to the care of 
 Lord Carisbrooke, and himself became the companion of 
 Lady St. Jerome and Theodora. 
 
 Notwithstanding all his efforts in the smoking-room, St. 
 Aldegonde had only been able to induce Colonel Campian 
 to be his companion in the shooting expedition, and the 
 Colonel fell into the lure only through his carelessness and 
 good-nature. He much doubted the discretion of his de- 
 cision as he listened to Lord St. Aldegonde's reasons for the 
 expedition in their rapid journey to the moors. 
 
 ' I do not suppose,' he said, ' we shall have any good 
 sport ; but when you are in Scotland and come to me, as I 
 hope you will, I will give you something you will like. 
 But it is a great thing to get off seeing the Towers, and 
 the gardens, and all that sort of thing. Nothing bores me 
 so much as going over a man's house. Besides, we get rid 
 of the women.' 
 
 The meeting between the two guardians did not promise 
 to be as pleasant as that between the Bishop and the Car- 
 dinal, but the crusty Lord Culloden was scarcely a match 
 for the social dexterity of his Eminence. The Cardinal, 
 crossing the room, with winning ceremony approached and 
 addressed his colleague. 
 
 ' We can have no more controversies, my Lord, for our 
 reign is over ; ' and he extended a delicate hand, which the 
 surprised peer touched with a huge finger. 
 
 'Yes ; it all depends on himself now,' replied Lord Cul- 
 loden with a grim smile ; ' and I hope he will not make a 
 fool of himself.' 
 
 ' What have you got for us to-night ? ' enquired Lothair
 
 LOTHAIR. 215 
 
 of Mr. Giles, as the gentlemen rose from the dining 
 table. 
 
 Mr. Giles said he would consult his wife, but Lothair 
 observing he would himself undertake that office, when he 
 entered the saloon addressed Apollonia. Nothing could be 
 more skilful than the manner in which Mrs. Giles in this 
 party assumed precisely the position which equally became 
 her and suited her own views ; at the same time the some- 
 what humble friend, but the trusted counsellor, of the 
 Towers, she disarmed envy and conciliated consideration. 
 Never obtrusive, yet always prompt and prepared with un- 
 failing resource, and gifted apparently with universal 
 talents, she soon became the recognised medium by which 
 everything was suggested or arranged ; and before eight 
 and forty hours had passed she was described by Duchesses 
 and their daughters as that ' dear Mrs. Giles.' 
 
 ' Monsieur Raphael and his sister came down in the train 
 with us,' said Mrs. Giles to Lothair ; ' the rest of the troupe 
 will not be here until to-morrow ; but they told me they 
 could give you a perfect proverbe if your Lordship would 
 like it ; and the Spanish conjuror is here ; but I rather 
 think, from what I gather, that the young ladies would like 
 a dance.' 
 
 ' I do not much fancy acting the moment these great 
 churchmen have arrived, and with Cardinals and Bishops I 
 would rather not have dances the first night. I almost wish 
 we had kept the Hungarian lady for this evening.' 
 
 ' Shall I send for her ? she is ready.' 
 
 ' The repetition would bo too soon, and would show a 
 great poverty of resources,' said Lothair smiling ; ' what 
 we want is some singing.' 
 
 'Mardoni ought to have been here to-day,' said Mrs 
 Giles'; ' but he never keeps his engagements.' 
 
 1 1 think our amateur materials are rather rich,' said 
 Lothair.
 
 216 LOTHAIR. 
 
 ' There is Mrs. Campian,' said Apollonia in a low voice, 
 but Lothair shook his head. 
 
 ' But perhaps if others set her the example,' he added 
 after a pause ; ' Lady Corisande is firstrate, and all hei 
 sisters sing ; I will go and consult the Duchess.' 
 
 There was soon a stir in the room. Lady St. Aldegonde 
 and her sisters approached the piano at which was seated 
 the eminent professor. A note was heard, and there was 
 silence. The execution was exquisite ; and indeed there 
 are few things more dainty than the blended voices of 
 three women. No one seemed to appreciate the perform- 
 ance more than Mrs. Campian, who, greatly attracted by 
 what was taking place, turned a careless ear even to the 
 honeyed sentences of no less a personage than the Lord 
 Bishop. 
 
 After an interval Lady Corisande was handed to the 
 piano by Lothair. She was in fine voice and sang with 
 wonderful effect. Mrs. Campian, who seemed much in- 
 terested, softly rose and stole to the outward circle of the 
 group which had gathered round the instrument. When 
 the sounds had ceased, amid the general applause her voice 
 of admiration was heard. The Duchess approached her, 
 evidently prompted by the general wish, and expressed hei 
 hope that Mrs. Campian would now favour them. It was 
 not becoming to refuse when others had contributed so 
 freely to the general entertainment, but Theodora was 
 anxious not to place herself in competition with those who 
 had preceded her. Looking over a volume of music she 
 suggested to Lady Corisande a duet in which the peculiari- 
 ties of their two voices, which in character were quite dif- 
 ferent, one being a soprano and the other a contralto, might 
 be displayed. And very seldom in a private chamber had 
 anything of so high a class been heard. Not a lip moved 
 except those of the singers, so complete was the fascination, 
 till the conclusion elicited a burst of irresistible applause.
 
 LOTHAIEL 217 
 
 ' In iinaginatijn i am throwing endless bouquets,' said 
 Hugo Bohun. 
 
 ' I wish we could induce her to give us a recitation from 
 Alfieri,' said Mrs. Putney Giles in a whisper to Lady St. 
 Aldegonde. ' I heard it once : it was the finest thing I ever 
 listened to.' 
 
 ' But cannot we ? ' said Lady St. Aldegonde. 
 
 Apollonia shook her head. ' She is extremely reserved. 
 I am quite surprised that she sang ; but she could not well 
 refuse after your Ladyship and your sisters had been so 
 kind.' 
 
 ' But if the Lord of the Towers asks her,' suggested Lady 
 St. Aldegonde. 
 
 'No, no,' said Mrs. Giles, 'that would not do; nor would 
 he. He knows she dislikes it. A word from Colonel 
 Campian and the thing would be settled ; but it is rather 
 absurd to invoke the authority of a husband for so light a 
 matter.' 
 
 ' I should like so much to hear her,' said Lady St. Alde- 
 gonde. ' I think I will ask her myself. I will go and speak 
 to mamma.' 
 
 There was much whispering and consulting in the room, 
 but unnoticed, as general conversation had now been re- 
 sumed. The Duchess sent for Lothair and conferred with 
 him ; but Lothair seemed to shake his head. Then her 
 Grace rose and approached Colonel Campian, who was talk- 
 ing to Lord Culloden, and then the Duchess and Lady St. 
 Aldegonde went to Mrs. Campian. Then, after a short 
 time, Lady St. Aldegonde rose and fetched Lothair. 
 
 ' Her Grace tells me,' said Theodora, ' that Colonel Cam- 
 pian wishes me to give a recitation. I cannot believe that 
 such a performance can ever be generally interesting, 
 especially in a foreign language, and I confess that I would 
 rather not exhibit. But I do not like to be churlish when 
 all are so amiable and compliant, and the Duchess tells mo
 
 218 LOTEAIK. 
 
 that it cannot well be postponed, for this is the last quiet 
 night we shall have. What I want is a screen, and I must 
 be a moment alone, before I venture on these enterprises. I 
 require it to create the ideal presence.' 
 
 Lothair and Bertram arranged the screen, the Duchess 
 and Lady St. Aldegonde glided about, and tranquilly inti- 
 mated what was going to occur, so that, without effort, 
 there was in a moment complete silence and general expec- 
 tation. Almost unnoticed Mrs. Campian had disappeared, 
 whispering a word as she passed to the eminent conductor, 
 who was still seated at the piano. The company had 
 almost unconsciously grouped themselves in the form of 
 a theatre, the gentlemen generally standing behind the 
 ladies who were seated. There were some bars of solemn 
 music, and then to an audience not less nervous than her 
 self, Theodora came forward as Electra in that beautiful 
 appeal to Clytemnestra, where she veils her mother's guilt 
 even while she intimates her more than terrible suspicion 
 of its existence, and makes one last desperate appeal of 
 pathetic duty in order to save her parent and her fated 
 
 house : 
 
 amata madre, 
 
 Che fai ? Non credo io, no, che ardente fiamma 
 II cor ti awampi. 
 
 The ineffable grace of her action, simple without redun- 
 dancy, her exquisite elocution, her deep yet controlled pas- 
 sion, and the magic of a voice thrilling even in a whisper, 
 this form of Phidias with the genius of Sophocles, entirely 
 enraptured a fastidious audience. When she ceased, there 
 was an outburst of profound and unaffected appreciation ; 
 and Lord St. Aldegonde, who had listened in a sort of 
 ecstasy, rushed forward, with a countenance as serious as 
 the theme, to offer his thanks and express his admiration. 
 
 And then they gathered round her, all these charming 
 women and some of these admiring men, as she would have
 
 LOTHAIK. 219 
 
 resumed her seat, and entreated her once more, only once 
 more, to favour them. She caught the adoring glance of 
 the Lord of the Towers, and her eyes seemed to enquire 
 what she should do. ' There will be many strangers here 
 to-morrow,' said Lothair, ' and next week all the world. 
 This is a delight only for the initiated,' and he entreated 
 her to gratify them. 
 
 * It shall be Alfieri's ode to America then,' said Theo- 
 dora, ' if you please.' 
 
 ' She is a Roman I believe,' said Lady St. Jerome to his 
 Eminence, ' but not, alas ! a child of the Church. Indeed 
 I fear her views generally are advanced,' and she shook 
 her head. 
 
 ' At present,' said the Cardinal, ' this roof and this visit 
 may influence her. I should like to see such powers 
 engaged in the cause of God.' 
 
 The Cardinal was an entire believer in female influence, 
 and a considerable believer in his influence over females ; 
 and he had good cause for his convictions. The catalogue 
 of his proselytes was numerous and distinguished. He 
 had not only converted a duchess and several countesses, 
 but he had gathered into his fold a real Mary Magdalen. 
 In the height of her beauty and her fame, the most distin- 
 guished member of the demi-monde had suddenly thrown 
 op her golden whip and jingling reins, and cast herself at 
 the feet of the Cardinal. He had a right, therefore, to be 
 confident; and while his exquisite taste and consummate 
 cultivation rendered it impossible that he should not have 
 been deeply gratified by the performance of Theodora, he 
 was really the whole time considering the best means by 
 which such charms and powers could be enlisted in the 
 cause of the Church. 
 
 After the ladies had retired, the gentlemen talked for 
 a few minutes over the interesting occurrence of tha 
 evening.
 
 220 LOTHAIR. 
 
 ' Do you know,' said the Bishop to the Duke and some 
 surrounding auditors, ' fine as was the Electra, I preferred 
 the ode to the tragedy. There was a tumult of her brow, 
 especially in the address to Liberty, that was sublime 
 quite a Hcenad look.' 
 
 ' What do you think of it, Carry ? ' said St. Aldegonde 
 to Loi'd Carisbrooke. 
 
 ' Brecon says she puts him in mind of Kistori.' 
 
 ' She is not in the least like Ristori, or anyone else,' said 
 St. Aldegonde. ' I never heard, I never saw anyone like 
 her. I'll tell you what : you must take care what you 
 say about her in the smoking-room, for her husband will 
 be there, and an excellent fellow too. We went together 
 to the moors this morning, and he did not bore me in the 
 least. Only, if I had known as much about his wife as I 
 do now, I would have stayed at home, and passed my 
 morning with the women.' 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 ST. ALDEGONDE loved to preside over the mysteries of tho 
 smoking-room. There, enveloped in his Egyptian robe, 
 occasionally blurting out some careless or headstrong para- 
 dox to provoke discussion among others, which would 
 amuse himself, rioting in a Rabelaisian anecdote, and lis- 
 tening with critical delight to endless memoirs of horses 
 and prima-donnas, St. Aldegonde was never bored. Some- 
 times, too, when he could get hold of an eminent traveller, 
 or some individual distinguished for special knowledge, 
 St. Aldegonde would draw him out with skill, himself dis- 
 playing an acquaintance with the particular topic which 
 often surprised his habitual companions, for St. Aldegonde 
 professed never to read ; but he had no ordinary abili&es,
 
 LOTHAIB. 221 
 
 and an original turn of mind and habit of life, which threw 
 him in the way of unusnal persons of all classes, from 
 whom he imbibed or extracted a vast variety of queer, 
 always amusing, and not altogether useless, information. 
 
 ' Lothair has only one weakness,' he said to Colonel 
 Campian as the ladies disappeared ; ' he does not smoke. 
 Carry, you will come ? ' 
 
 ' Well, I do not think I shall to-night,' said Lord Caris- 
 brooke. Lady Corisande, it appears, particularly disap- 
 proved of smoking. 
 
 ' Hum ! ' said St. Aldegonde ; ' Duke of Brecon I know 
 will come, and Hugo and Bertram. My brother Montairy 
 would give his ears to come, but is afraid of his wife ; and 
 then there ia the Monsignore, a most capital fellow, who 
 knows everything.' 
 
 There were other gatherings before the midnight bell 
 struck at the Towers which discussed important affairs, 
 though they might not sit so late as the smoking party. 
 Lady St. Aldegonde had a reception in her room as well as 
 her lord. There the silent observation of the evening 
 found avenging expression in sparkling criticism ; and the 
 summer lightning, though it generally blazed with harm- 
 less brilliancy, occasionally assumed a more arrowy cha- 
 racter. The gentlemen of the smoking-room have it not all 
 their own way quite as much as they think. If, indeed, a 
 new school of Athens were to be pictured, the sages and 
 the students might be represented in exquisite dressing- 
 gowns, with slippers rarer than the lost one of Cinderella, 
 and brandishing beautiful brushes over tresses still more 
 fair. Then is the time when characters are never more 
 finely drawn, or difficult social questions more accurately 
 solved ; knowledge without reasoning, and truth without 
 logic : the triumph of intuition ! But we must not pro- 
 fane the mysteries of Bona Dea. 
 
 The Archdeacon and the Chaplain had also been in
 
 222 LOTHAIR. 
 
 council with the Bishop in his dressing-room, who, while 
 he dismissed them with his benison, repeated his ap- 
 parently satisfactory assurance, that something would 
 happen ' the first thing after breakfast.' 
 
 Lothair did not smoke, but he did not sleep. He was 
 absorbed by the thought of Theodora. He could not but 
 be conscious, and so far he was pleased by the conscious- 
 ness, that she was as fascinating to others as to himself. 
 What then ? Even with the splendid novelty of his 
 majestic home, and all the excitement of such an incident 
 in his life, and the immediate prospect of their again meet- 
 ing, he had felt, and even acutely, their separation. Whe- 
 ther it were the admiration of her by others which proved 
 his own just appreciation, or whether it were the unob- 
 trusive display of exquisite accomplishments, which with 
 all their intimacy she had never forced on his notice ; 
 whatever the cause, her hold upon his heart and life, pow- 
 erful as it was before, had strengthened. Lothair could 
 not conceive existence tolerable without her constant pre- 
 sence ; and with her constant presence existence would be 
 rapture. It had come to that. All his musings, all his 
 profound investigation and high resolve, all his sublime 
 speculations on God and man, and life and immortality, 
 and the origin of things, o,nd religious truth, ended in au 
 engrossing state of feeh'ng, which could be denoted in that 
 form and in no other. 
 
 What then was his future ? It seemed dark and dis- 
 tressing. Her constant presence his only happiness ; her 
 constant presence impossible. He seemed on an abyss. 
 
 In eight and forty hours or so one of the chief provinces 
 of England would be blazing with the celebration of his 
 legal accession to his high estate. If anyone in the Queen's 
 dominions had to be fixed upon as the most fortunate and 
 happiest of her subjects, it might well be Lothair. If 
 happiness depend on lofty station, his ancient and hero-
 
 223 
 
 ditary rank was of the highest ; if, as there seems no 
 doubt, the chief source of felicity in this country is wealth, 
 his vast possessions and accumulated treasure could not 
 easily be rivalled, while he had a matchless advantage over 
 those who pass, or waste, their grey and withered lives in 
 acquiring millions, in his consummate and healthy youth. 
 He had bright abilities, and a brighter heart. And yet the 
 unknown truth was, that this favoured being, on the eve of 
 this critical event, was pacing his chamber agitated and 
 infinitely disquieted, and struggling with circumstances 
 and feelings over which alike he seemed to have no control, 
 and which seemed to have been evoked without the exercise 
 of his own will, or that of any other person. 
 
 ' I do not think I can blame myself,' he said ; ' and I am 
 sure I cannot blame her. And yet ' 
 
 He opened his window and looked upon the moonlit 
 garden, which filled the fanciful quadrangle. The light of 
 the fountain seemed to fascinate his eye, and the music of 
 its fall soothed him into reverie. The distressful images 
 that had gathered round his heart gradually vanished, and 
 all that remained to him was the reality of his happiness. 
 Her beauty and her grace, the sweet stillness of her 
 searching intellect, and the refined pathos of her disposi- 
 tion only occurred to him, and he dwelt on them with spell- 
 bound joy. 
 
 The great clock of the Towers sounded two. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Lothair, ' I must try to sleep. I have got to 
 see the Bishop to-morrow morning. I wonder what he 
 wants.'
 
 224 LOTHAIB. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV, 
 
 THE Bishop was particularly playful on the morrow at 
 breakfast. Though his face beamed "with Christian kind- 
 ness, there was a twinkle in his eye which seemed not 
 entirely superior to mundane self-complacency, even to a 
 sense of earthly merriment. His seraphic raillery elicited 
 sympathetic applause from the ladies, especially from the 
 daughters of the house of Brentham, who laughed occa- 
 sionally even before his angelic jokes were well launched. 
 His lambent flashes sometimes even played over the 
 Cardinal, whose cerulean armour, nevertheless, remained 
 always unscathed. Monsignore Chidioch, however, who 
 would once unnecessarily rush to the aid of his chief, was 
 tumbled over by the Bishop with relentless gaiety, to the 
 infinite delight of Lady Corisande, who only wished it had 
 been that dreadful Monsignore Catesby. But, though lesa 
 demonstrative, apparently not the least devout of his Lord- 
 ship's votaries were the Lady Flora and the Lady Grizell. 
 These young gentlewomen, though apparently gifted with 
 appetites becoming their ample but far from graceless 
 forms, contrived to satisfy all the wants of nature without 
 taking their charmed vision for a moment off the prelate, 
 or losing a word which escaped his consecrated lips. Some- 
 times even they ventured to smile, and then they looked at 
 their father and sighed. It was evident, notwithstanding 
 their appetites and their splendid complexions, which would 
 have become the Aurora of Guido, that these young ladies 
 had some secret sorrow which required a confidante. Their 
 visit to Muriel Towers was their introduction to society, for 
 the eldest had only just attained sweet seventeen. Young 
 ladies under these circumstances always fall in love, but 
 with their own sex. Lady Mora and Ladv Grizell both
 
 LOTHAIB. 225 
 
 fell in love with Lady Corisande, and before the morning 
 had passed away she had become their friend and counsellor, 
 and the object of their devoted adoration. It seems that 
 their secret sorrow had its origin in that mysterious reli- 
 gious sentiment which agitates or affects every class and 
 condition of man, and which creates or destroys states, 
 though philosophers are daily assuring us ' that there is 
 nothing in it.' The daughters of the Earl of Cullodeu 
 could not stand any longer the Free Kirk, of which their 
 austere parent was a fiery votary. It seems that they had 
 been secretly converted to the Episcopal Church of Scot- 
 land by a governess, who pretended to be a daughter of the 
 Covenant, but who was really a niece of the Primus, and, 
 as Lord Culloden acutely observed, when he ignominiously 
 dismissed her, ' a Jesuit in disguise.' From that moment 
 there had been no peace in his house. His handsome and 
 gigantic daughters, who had hitherto been all meekness, 
 and who had obeyed him as they would a tyrant father of 
 the feudal ages, were resolute, and would not compromise 
 their souls. They humbly expressed their desire to enter 
 a convent, or to become at least sisters of mercy. Lord 
 Culloden raged and raved, and delivered himself of cynical 
 taunts, but to no purpose. The principle that forms free 
 kirks is a strong principle, and takes many forms, which 
 the social Polyphemes, who have only one eye, cannot per- 
 ceive. In his desperate confusion, he thought that change 
 of scene might be a diversion when things were at the 
 worst, and this was the reason that he had, contrary to hia 
 original intention, accepted the invitation of his ward. 
 
 Lady Corisande was exactly the guide the girls required. 
 They sate on each side of her, each holding her hand, which 
 they frequently pressed to their lips. As her form was 
 slight, though of perfect grace and symmetry, the contrast 
 between herself and her worshippers was rather startling ; 
 but her noble brow, full of thought and purpose, the firm- 
 
 Q
 
 226 LOTHAIK. 
 
 ness of her chiselled lip, and the rich fire of her glance, 
 vindicated her post as the leading spirit. 
 
 They breakfasted in a room which opened on a gallery, 
 and at the other ond of the gallery was an apartment 
 similar to the breakfast- room, which was the male morning- 
 room, and where the world eould find the newspapers, or 
 join in half an hour's talk over the intended arrangements 
 of the day. When the breakfast-party broke up, the 
 Bishop approached Lothair, and looked at him earnestly. 
 
 ' I am at your Lordship's service,' said Lothair, and they 
 quitted the breakfast-room together. Halfway down the 
 gallery they met Monsignore Catesby, who had in his hand 
 a number, just arrived, of a newspaper which was esteemed 
 an Ultramontane organ. He bowed as he passed them, 
 with an air of some exultation, and the Bishop and he 
 exchanged significant smiles, which, however, meant 
 different things. Quitting the gallery, Lothair led the way 
 to his private apartments ; and, opening the door, ushered 
 in the Bishop. 
 
 Now what was contained in the Ultramontane organ 
 which apparently occasioned so much satisfaction to Mon- 
 signore Catesby ? A deftly drawn-up announcement of 
 some important arrangements which had been deeply 
 planned. The announcement would be repeated in all the 
 daily papers, which were hourly expected. The world was 
 informed that his Eminence, Cardinal Grandison, now on a 
 visit at Muriel Towers to his ward, Lothair, would cele- 
 brate High Mass on the ensuing Sunday in the city which 
 was the episcopal capital of the Bishop's see, and after- 
 wards preach on the present state of the Church of Christ. 
 As the Bishop must be absent from his cathedral that day, 
 and had promised to preach in the chapel at Muriel, there 
 was something dexterous in thus turning his Lordship's 
 flank, and desolating his diocese when he was not present 
 to guard it from the fiery dragon. It was also remarked
 
 LOTHAIR. 227 
 
 that there would be an unusual gathering of the Catholic 
 aristocracy for tie occasion. The rate of lodgings in the 
 city had risen in consequence. At the end of the para- 
 graph it was distinctly contradicted that Lothair had 
 entered the Catholic Church. Such a statement was de- 
 clared to be ' premature,' as his guardian the Cardinal 
 would never sanction his taking such a step until he was 
 the master of his own actions ; the general impression left 
 by the whole paragraph being, that the world was not to 
 be astonished if the first step of Lothair, on accomplishing 
 his majority, was to pursue the very course which was no^f 
 daintily described as premature. 
 
 At luncheon the whole party were again assembled. 
 The newspapers had arrived in the interval and had been 
 digested. Every one was aware of the Popish plot, aa 
 Hugo Bohun called it. The Bishop, however, looked 
 serene and, if not as elate as in the morning, calm and 
 content. He sate by the Duchess, and spoke to her in a 
 low voice and with seriousness. The Monsignori watched 
 every expression. 
 
 When the Duchess rose the Bishop accompanied her into 
 the recess of a window, and she said, 'You may depend 
 upon me ; I cannot answer for the Duke. It is not the 
 early rising ; he always rises early in the country, but he 
 likes to read his letters before he dresses, and that sort of 
 thing. I think you had better speak to Lady Corisande 
 yourself.' 
 
 What had taken place at the interview of the Bishop with 
 Lothair, and what had elicited from the Duchess an assur- 
 ance that the prelate might depend upon her, generally trans- 
 pired, in consequence of some confidential communications, 
 in the course of the afternoon. It appeared that the Right 
 Reverend Lord had impressed, and successfully, on Lothair 
 the paramount duty of commencing the day of his majority 
 by assisting in an early celebration of tho most sacred rite 
 
 Q *
 
 228 LOTHAIR. 
 
 of the Church. This, in the estimation of the Bishop, 
 though he had not directly alluded to the subject in the 
 interview, but had urged the act on higher grounds, would 
 be a triumphant answer to the' insidious and calumnious 
 paragraphs which had circulated during the last six months, 
 and an authentic testimony that Lothair was not going to 
 quit the Church of his fathers. 
 
 This announcement, however, produced consternation in 
 the opposite camp. It seemed to more than neutralise the 
 anticipated effect of the programme, and the deftly- con- 
 ceived paragraph. Monsignore Catesby went about whis- 
 pering that he feared Lothair was going to overdo it ; and 
 considering what he had to go through on Monday, if it 
 were only for considerations of health, an early celebration 
 was inexpedient. He tried the Duchess, about whom ho 
 was beginning to hover a good deal, as he fancied she was 
 of an impressionable disposition, and gave some promise of 
 results ; but here the ground had been too forcibly pre- 
 occupied : then he flew to Lady St. Aldegonde, but he had 
 the mortification of learning from her lips that she herself 
 contemplated being a communicant at the same time. 
 Lady Corisande had been before him. All the energies of 
 that young lady were put forth in order that Lothair should 
 be countenanced on this solemn occasion. She conveyed 
 to the Bishop before dinner the results of her exertions. 
 
 ' You may count on Alberta St. Aldegonde and Victoria 
 Montairy, and, I think, Lord Mqntairy also, if she presses 
 him, which she has promised to do. Bertram must kneel 
 by his friend at such a time. I think Lord Carisbrooke may : 
 Duke of Brecon I can say nothing about at present.' 
 
 ' Lord St. Aldegonde ? ' said the Bishop. 
 
 Lady Corisande shook her head. 
 
 There had been a conclave in the Bishop's room before 
 dinner, in which the interview of the morning was dis- 
 cussed.
 
 LOTHAHL 229 
 
 * II -was successful ; scarcely satisfactory,' said the Bishop. 
 * He is a very clever fellow, and knows a great deal. They 
 have got hold of him, and he has all the arguments at 
 his fingers' ends. When I came to the point he began 
 to demur; I saw what was passing through his mind, 
 and I said at once, " Your views are high : so aro 
 mine : so are those of the Church. It is a sacrifice, un- 
 doubtedly, in a certain sense. No sound theologian would 
 maintain the simplicity of the elements ; but that does not 
 involve the coarse interpretation of the dark ages." ' 
 
 ' Good, good,' said the Archdeacon ; ' and what is it your 
 Lordship did not exactly like ? ' 
 
 ' He fenced too much ; and he said more than once, and 
 in a manner I did not like, that, whatever were his views 
 as to the Church, he thought he could on the whole con- 
 scientiously partake of this rite as administered by the 
 Church of England.' 
 
 ' Everything depends on this celebration,' said the Chap- 
 lain ; ' after that his doubts and difficulties will disperse.' 
 
 ' We must do our best that he may be well supported,' 
 said the Archdeacon. 
 
 ' No fear of that,' said the Bishop. ' I have spoken to 
 some of our friends. We may depend on the Duchess and 
 her daughters, all admirable women ; and they will do what 
 they can with others. It will be a busy day, but I have 
 expressed my hope that the heads of the household may be 
 able to attend. But the county notables arrive to-day, and 
 I shall make it a point with them, especially the Lord 
 Lieutenant.' 
 
 ' It should be known,' said the Chaplain. * I will send a 
 memorandum to the " Guardian." ' 
 
 'And " John Bull," ' said the Bishop. 
 
 The Lord Lieutenant and Lady Agramont, and their 
 daughter, Lady Ida Alice, arrived to-day ; and the High 
 Sheriff, a manufacturer, a great liberal who delighted in
 
 230 LOTHAIB. 
 
 peers, but whose otherwise perfect felicity to-day was a 
 little marred and lessened by the haunting and restless fear 
 that Lothair was not duly aware that he took precedence 
 of the Lord Lieutenant. Then there were Sir Hamlet Clot- 
 worthy, the master of the hounds, and a capital man of 
 business ; and the honourable Lady Clotworthy, a haughty 
 dame who ruled her circle with tremendous airs and graces, 
 but who was a little subdued in the empyrean of Muriel 
 Towers. The other county member, Mr. Ardenne, was a 
 refined gentleman aad loved the arts. He had an ancient 
 pedigree, and knew everybody else's, which was not always 
 pleasant. What he most prided himself on was being the 
 hereditary owner of a real deer park ; the only one, he 
 asserted, in the county. Other persons had parks which 
 had deer in them, but that was quite a different thing. 
 His wife was a pretty woman, and the inspiring genius of 
 archaeological societies, who loved their annual luncheon in 
 her Tudor Halls, and illustrated by their researches the 
 deeds and dwellings of her husband's ancient race. 
 
 The clergy of the various parishes on the estate all dined 
 at the Towers to-day, in order to pay their respects to their 
 Bishop. ' Lothair's oecumenical council,' said Hugo Bohun, 
 as he entered the crowded room, and looked around him 
 with an air of not ungraceful impertinence. Among the 
 clergy was Mr. Smylie, the brother of Apollonia. 
 
 A few years ago, Mr. Putney Giles had not unreasonably 
 availed himself of the position which he so usefully and 
 so honourably filled, to recommend this gentleman to the 
 guardians of Lothair to fill a vacant benefice. The 
 Reverend Dionysius Smylie had distinguished himself at 
 Trinity College, Dublin, and had gained a Hebrew scholar- 
 ship there ; after that he had written a work on the 
 Revelation, which clearly settled the long-controverted 
 point whether Rome in the great apocalypse was signified 
 by Babylon. The Bishop shrugged his shoulders when he
 
 LOTHAIR. 231 
 
 received Mr. Smylie's papers, the examining Chaplain 
 sighed, and the Archdeacon groaned. But man is pro- 
 verbially shortsighted. The doctrine of evolution affords 
 no instances so striking as those of sacerdotal development. 
 Placed under the favouring conditions of clime and soil, 
 the real character of the Rev. Dionysius Smylie gradually, 
 but powerfully, developed itself. Where he now minis- 
 tered, he was attended by acolytes, and incensed by 
 thurifers. The shoulders of a fellow-countryman were 
 alone equal to the burden of the enormous cross which 
 preceded him ; while his ecclesiastical wardrobe furnished 
 him with many coloured garments, suited to every season 
 of the year, and every festival of the Church. 
 
 At first there was indignation, and rumours or prophe- 
 cies that we should soon have another case of perversion, 
 and that Mr. Smylie was going over to Rome ; but these 
 Superficial commentators misapprehended the vigorous 
 vanity of the man. 'Rome may come to me,' said Mr. 
 Smylie, 'and it is perhaps the best thing it could do. This 
 is the real Church without Romish error.' 
 
 The Bishop and his reverend staff, who were at first so 
 much annoyed at the preferment of Mr. Smylie, had now, 
 with respect to him, only one duty, and that was to restrain 
 his exuberant priestliness ; but they fulfilled that duty in a 
 kindly and charitable spirit ; and when the Rev. Dionysius 
 Smylie was appointed chaplain to Lothair, the Bishop did 
 not shrug his shoulders, the Chaplain did not sigh, nor the 
 Archdeacon groan. 
 
 The party was so considerable to-day that they dined in 
 the great hall. When it was announced to Lothair that 
 his Lordship's dinner was served, and he offered his arm to 
 his destined companion, he looked around, and then, in an 
 audible voice, and with a stateliness becoming such an in- 
 cident, called upon the High Sheriff to lead the Duchess to 
 the table. Although that eminent personage had been
 
 232 LOTHAIR. 
 
 thinking of nothing else for days, and during the last half- 
 hour had felt as a man feels, and can only feel, who knows 
 that some public function is momentarily about to fall to 
 his perilous discharge, he was taken quite aback, changed 
 colour, and lost his head. But the band of Lothair, who 
 were waiting at the door of the apartment to precede the 
 procession to the hall, striking up at this moment ' The 
 Roast Beef of Old England,' reanimated his heart ; and 
 following Lothair, and preceding all the other guests down 
 the gallery, and through many chambers, he experienced 
 the proudest moment of a life of struggle, ingenuity, 
 vicissitude, and success. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 UNDER all this flowing festivity there was already a current 
 of struggle and party passion. Serious thoughts and some 
 anxiety occupied the minds of several of the guests, amid 
 the variety of proffered dishes and sparkling wines, and the 
 subdued strains of delicate music. This disquietude did 
 not touch Lothair. He was happy to find himself in his 
 ancestral hall, surrounded by many whom he respected and 
 by some whom he loved. He was an excellent host, which 
 no one can be who dqes not combine a good heart with 
 high breeding. 
 
 Theodora was rather far from him, but he could catch 
 her grave, sweet countenance at an angle of the table, as 
 she bowed her head to Mr. Ardenne, the county member, 
 who was evidently initiating her in all the mysteries of 
 deer parks. The Cardinal sate near him, winning over, 
 though without apparent effort, the somewhat prejudiced 
 Lady Agramont. His Eminence could converse with more 
 facility than others, for he dined off biscuits and drank 
 only water. Lord Culloden had taken out Lady St. Jerome,
 
 LOTHAIR. 233 
 
 who expended on him all the resources of her impassioned 
 tittle-tattle, extracting only grim smiles ; and Lady Cori- 
 sande had fallen to the happy lot of the Duke of Brecon ; ac- 
 cording to the fine perception of Clare Arundel (and women 
 are very quick in these discoveries) the winning horse. St. 
 Aldegonde had managed to tumble in between Lady Flora 
 and Lady Grizell, and seemed immensely amused. 
 
 The Duke enquired of Lothair how many he could dine 
 in his hall. 
 
 ' We must dine more than two hundred on Monday,' he 
 replied. 
 
 ' And now, I should think, we have only a third of that 
 number,' said his Grace. ' It will be a tight fit.' 
 
 * Mr. Putney Giles has had a drawing made, and every 
 seat apportioned. We shall just do it.' 
 
 * I fear you will have too busy a day on Monday,' said 
 the Cardinal, who had caught up the conversation. 
 
 ' Well, you know, sir, I do not sit up smoking with Lord 
 St. Aldegonde.' 
 
 After dinner, Lady Corisande seated herself by Mrs. 
 Campian. 'You must have thought me very rude,' she 
 said, ' to have left you so suddenly at tea, when the Bishop 
 looked into the room ; but he wanted me on a matter of 
 the greatest importance. I must, therefore, ask your 
 pardon. You naturally would not feel on this matter as 
 we all do, or most of us do,' she added with some hesita- 
 tion ; ' being, pardon me, a foreigner, and the question 
 involving national as well as religious feelings ; ' and then 
 somewhat hurriedly, but with emotion, she detailed to 
 Theodora all that had occurred respecting the early cele- 
 bration on Monday, and the opposition it was receiving 
 from the Cardinal and his friends. It was a relief to Lady 
 Corisande thus to express all her feelings on a subject on 
 which she had been brooding the whole day. 
 
 You mistake,' said Theodora quietly, when Lady Cori-
 
 234 LOTHAIR. 
 
 Bando had finished. ' I am much interested in what you 
 tell me. I should deplore our friend falling under the in- 
 fluence of the Romish priesthood.' 
 
 'And yet there is danger of it,' said Lady Corisande, 
 ' more than danger,' she added in a low but earnest voice. 
 * You do not know what a conspiracy is going on, and has 
 been going on for months to effect this end. I tremble.' 
 
 ' That is the last thing I ever do,' said Theodora with a 
 faint sweet smile. ' I hope, but I never tremble.' 
 
 ' You have seen the announcement in the newspapers to- 
 day ? ' said Lady Corisande. 
 
 ' I think if they were certain of their prey they would be 
 more reserved,' said Theodora. 
 
 ' There is something in that,' said Lady Corisande 
 musingly. ' You know not what a relief it is to me to 
 speak to you. on this matter. Mamma agrees with me, 
 and so do my sisters ; but still they may agree with me 
 because they are my mamma and my sisters ; but I look 
 upon our nobility joining the Church of Rome as the 
 greatest calamity that has ever happened to England. 
 Irrespective of all religious considerations, on which I will 
 not presume to touch, it is an abnegation of patriotism ; 
 and in this age, when all things are questioned, a love of 
 our country seems to me the one sentiment to cling to.' 
 
 1 1 know no higher sentiment,' said Theodora in a low 
 voice, and yet which sounded like the breathing of some 
 divine shrine, and her Athenian eye met the fiery glance of 
 Lady Corisande with an expression of noble sympathy. 
 
 ' I am so glad that I spoke to you on this matter,' said 
 Lady Corisande, ' for there is something in you which 
 encourages me. As you say, if they were certain they 
 would be silent ; and yet, from what I hear, their hopes 
 are high. You know,' she added in a whisper, ' that he 
 has absolutely engaged to raise a Popish Cathedral. My 
 brother, Bertram, has seen th model in his rooms.'
 
 LOTHAIK. 235 
 
 ' I have known models that were never realised,' said 
 Theodora. 
 
 ' Ah ! you are hopeful ; you said you were hopeful. It 
 is a beautiful disposition. It is not mine,' she added with 
 a sigh. 
 
 * It should be,' said Theodora ; ' you were not born to 
 sigh. Sighs should be for those who have no country, 
 like myself ; not for the daughters of England, the beauti- 
 ful daughters of proud England.' 
 
 ' But you have your husband's country, and that is 
 proud and great.' 
 
 ' I have only one country, and it is not my husband's ; 
 and I have only one thought, and it is to see it free.' 
 
 'It is a noble one,! said Lady Corisande, ' as I am sure 
 are all your thoughts. There are the gentlemen; I am 
 sorry they have come. There,' she added, as Monsignore 
 Catesby entered the room, ' there is his evil genius.' 
 
 * But you have baffled him,' said Theodora. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Lady Corisande, with a long-drawn sigh. 
 ' Their manceuvres never cease. However, I think Mon- 
 day must be safe. Would you come ? ' she said, with a 
 serious, searching glance, and in a kind of coaxing murmur, 
 
 ' I should be an intruder, my dear lady,' said Theodora, 
 declining the suggestion ; ' but so far as hoping that our 
 friend will never join the Church of Borne, you will have 
 ever my ardent wishes.' 
 
 Theodora might have added her belief, for Lothair had 
 never concealed from her a single thought or act of his life 
 in this respect. She knew all and had weighed every- 
 thing, and flattered herself that their frequent and unre- 
 served conversations had not confirmed his belief in the 
 infallibility of the Church of Borne, and perhaps of some 
 other things. 
 
 It had been settled that there should be dancing this 
 evening ; all the young ladies had wished it. Lot hair
 
 236 LOTHAIR. 
 
 danced with Lady Flora Falkirk, and her sister, Lady 
 Grizell, was in the same quadrille. They moved about 
 like young giraffes in an African forest, but looked bright 
 and happy. Lothair liked his cousins ; their inexperience 
 and innocence, and the simplicity with which they ex- 
 hibited and expressed their feelings, had in it something 
 bewitching. Then the rough remembrance of his old life 
 at Falkirk and its contrast with the present scene, had in 
 it something stimulating. They were his juniors by several 
 years, but they were always gentle and kind to him ; and 
 sometimes it seemed he was the only person whom they 
 too had found kind and gentle. He called his cousin 
 too by her Christian name, and he was amused, standing 
 by this beautiful giantess, and calling her Flora. There 
 were other amusing circumstances in the quadrille ; not 
 the least, Lord St. Aldegonde dancing with Mrs. Campian. 
 The wonder of Lady St. Aldegonde was only equalled bj 
 her delight. 
 
 The Lord Lieutenant was standing by the Duke in a 
 corner of the saloon, observing not with dissatisfaction his 
 daughter, Lady Ida Alice, dancing with Lothair. 
 
 ' Do you know this is the first time I ever had the 
 honour of meeting a Cardinal ? ' he said. 
 
 ' And we never expected that it would happen to either 
 of us in this country when we were at Christchurch to- 
 gether,' replied the Duke. 
 
 'Well, I hope everything is for the best,' said Lord 
 Agramont. ' We are to have all these gentlemen in our 
 good city of Grandchester to-morrow.' 
 
 ' So I understand.' 
 
 ' You read that paragraph in the newspapers ? Do you 
 think there is anything in it ? ' 
 
 ' About our friend ? It would be a great misfortune.' 
 
 ' The Bishop says there is nothing in it,' said the Lord 
 Lieutenant.
 
 LOTHAIE. 237 
 
 'Well, he ought to know. I understand he has had 
 Bcrae serious conversation recently with our friend ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; he has spoken to me about it. Are you going to 
 attend the early celebration to-morrow ? It is not much 
 to my taste ; a little new-fangled, I think ; but I shall go, 
 as they say it will do good.' 
 
 ' I am glad of that ; it is well that he should be im- 
 pressed at this moment with the importance and opinion of 
 his county.' 
 
 'Do you know I never saw him before,' said the Lord 
 Lieutenant. ' He is winning.' 
 
 ' I know no youth,' said the Duke, ' (I would not except 
 my own son, and Bertram has never given me an uneasy 
 moment,) of whom I have a better opinion, both as to heart 
 and head. I should deeply deplore his being smashed by 
 a Jesuit.' 
 
 The dancing had ceased for a moment ; there was a 
 stir; Lord Carisbrooke was enlarging, with unusual ani- 
 mation, to an interested group about a new dance at 
 Paris : the new dance. Could they not have it here ? Un- 
 fortunately he did not know its name, and could not 
 describe its figure ; but it was something new ; quite new ; 
 they have got it at Paris. Princess Metternich dances it. 
 He danced it with her, and she taught it him ; only he 
 never could explain anything, and indeed never did exactly 
 make it out. 'But you dance it with a shawl, and then 
 two ladies hold the shawl, and the cavaliers pass under it. 
 In fact it is the only thing ; it is the new dance at Paris.' 
 
 What a pity that anything so delightful should be so 
 indefinite and perplexing, and indeed impossible, which 
 rendered it still more desirable ! If Lord Carisbrooke only 
 could have remembered its name, or a single step in its 
 figure ; it was so tantalising ! 
 
 ' Do not you think so ? ' said Hugo Bohun to Mrs 
 Cumpian, who was sitting apart listening to Lord St.
 
 238 LOTHAIR. 
 
 Aldegonde's account of his travels in the United States, 
 which he was very sorry he ever quitted. And then they 
 enquired to what Mr. Bohun referred, and then he told 
 them all that had been said. 
 
 ' I know what he means,' said Mrs. Campian. * It is 
 not a French dance ; it is a Moorish dance.' 
 
 ' That woman knows everything, Hugo,' said Lord St. 
 Aldegonde in a solemn whisper. And then he called to 
 his wife. ' Bertha, Mrs. Campian will tell you all about 
 this dance that Carisbrooke is making such a mull of. 
 Now look here, Bertha ; you must get the Campians to 
 come to us as soon as possible. They are going to Scot- 
 land from this place, and there is no reason, if you manage 
 it well, why they should not come on to us at once. Now 
 exert yourself.' 
 
 ' I will do all I can, Granville.' 
 
 ' It is not French, it is Moorish ; it is called the Tan- 
 gerine,' said Theodora to her surrounding votaries. ' You 
 begin with a circle.' 
 
 ' But how are we to dance without the music ? ' said 
 Lady Montairy. 
 
 ' Ah ! I wish I had known this,' said Theodora, ' before 
 dinner, and I think I could have dotted down something 
 that would have helped us. But let me see,' and she went 
 up to the eminent professor, with whom she was well 
 acquainted, and said, * Signer Ricci, it begins so,' and she 
 hummed divinely a fantastic air, which, after a few 
 moments' musing, he reproduced ; ' and then it goes off 
 into what they call in Spain a saraband. Is there a shawl 
 in the room ? ' 
 
 ' My mother has always a shawl in reserve,' said Ber- 
 tram, ' particularly when she pays visits to houses where 
 there are galleries;' and he brought back a mantle of 
 Cashmere. 
 
 ' Now, Signer Ricci,' said Mrs. Campian, and she again
 
 LOTHAIR 239 
 
 hummed an air, and moved forward at the same time with 
 brilliant grace, waving at the end the shawl. 
 
 The expression of her countenance, looking round to 
 Signor Kicci, as she was moving on to see whether he had 
 caught her idea, fascinated Lothair. 
 
 ' It is exactly what I told you,' said Lord Carisbrooke, 
 4 and, I can assure you, it is the only dance now. I am 
 very glad I remembered it.' 
 
 'I see it all,' said Signor Kicci, as Theodora rapidly 
 detailed to him the rest of the figure. ' And at any rate it 
 will be the Tangerine with variations.' 
 
 ' Let me have the honour of being your partner in this 
 great enterprise,' said Lothair ; ' you are the inspiration of 
 Muriel.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I am very glad I can do anything, however slight, 
 to please you and your friends. I like them all ; but par- 
 ticularly Lady Corisande.' 
 
 A new dance in a country house is a festival of frolio 
 grace. The incomplete knowledge and the imperfect 
 execution are themselves causes of merry excitement, in 
 their contrast with the unimpassioned routine and almost 
 unconscious practice of traditionary performances. And 
 gay and frequent were the bursts of laughter from the 
 bright and airy band who were proud to be the scholars of 
 Theodora. The least successful among them was perhaps 
 Lord Carisbrooke. 
 
 ' Princess Metternich must have taught you wrong, 
 Carisbrooke,' said Hugo Bohun. 
 
 They ended with a waltz, Lothair dancing with Miss 
 Arnndel. She accepted his offer to take some tea on its 
 conclusion. While they were standing at the table, a little 
 withdrawn from others, and he holding a sugar basin, she 
 said in a low voice, looking on her cup and not at him, 
 * The Cardinal is vexed about the early celebration j ho 
 eays it should have been at midnight.'
 
 240 LOTHAIK. 
 
 ' I am sorry he is vexed,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' He was going to speak to you himself,' continued Miss 
 Amndel ; ' but he felt a delicacy about it. He had thought 
 that your common feelings respecting the Church might 
 have induced you, if not to consult, at least to converse, 
 with him on the subject ; I mean as your guardian.' 
 
 ' It might have been perhaps as well,' said Lothair ; 
 ' but I also feel a delicacy on these matters.' 
 
 'There ought to be none on such matters,' continued 
 Miss Arundel, ' when everything is at stake.' 
 
 ' I do not see that I could have taken any other course 
 than I have done,' said Lothair. Tt can hardly be wrong. 
 The Bishop's church views are sound.' 
 
 ' Sound ! ' said Miss Arundel ; ' moonshine instead of 
 sunshine.' 
 
 ' Moonshine would rather suit a midnight than a morn- 
 ing celebration,' said Lothair ; ' would it not ? ' 
 
 * A fair repartee, but we are dealing with a question that 
 cannot be settled by jests. See,' she said with great 
 seriousness, putting down her cup and taking again his 
 offered arm, ' you think you are only complying with 
 a form befitting your position and the occasion. You 
 deceive yourself. You are hampering your future freedom 
 by this step, and they know it. That is why it was 
 planned. It was not necessary ; nothing can be necessary 
 so pregnant with evil. You might have made, you might 
 yet make, a thousand excuses. It is a rite which hardly 
 suits the levity of the hour, even with their feelings ; but, 
 with your view of its real character, it is sacrilege. "What 
 is occurring to-night might furnish you with scruples.' 
 And she looked up in his face. 
 
 ' I think you take an exaggerated view of what I con- 
 template,' said Lothair. 'Even with your convictions it 
 may be an imperfect rite ; but it never can be an injurious 
 one.
 
 LOTHAIR. 241 
 
 ' There can be no compromise on such matters,' said 
 Miss Arundel. ' The Church knows nothing of imperfect 
 rites. They are all perfect because they are all divine ; 
 any deviation from them is heresy, and fatal. My con- 
 victions on this subject are your convictions ; act up to 
 them.' 
 
 ' I am sure if thinking of these matters would guide a 
 man right ' said Lothair with a sigh, and he stopped. 
 
 1 Human thought will never guide you ; and very 
 justly, when you have for a guide Divine truth. You are 
 now your own master ; go at once to its fountain-head ; 
 go to Rome, and then all your perplexities will vanish, and 
 for ever.' 
 
 ' I do not see much prospect of my going to Rome,' 
 said Lothair, ' at least at present.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Miss Arundel ; ' in a few weeks I hope to 
 be there ; and if so, I hope never to quit it.' 
 
 ' Do not say that ; the future is always unknown.' 
 
 ' Not yours,' said Miss Arundel. ' Whatever you think, 
 you will go to Rome. Mark my words. I summon you to 
 meet me at Rome.' 
 
 CHAPTER XLVL 
 
 THERE can be little doubt, generally speaking, that it is 
 more satisfactory to pass Sunday in the country than in 
 town. There is something in the essential stillness of 
 country life, which blends harmoniously with the ordinance 
 of the most divine of our divine laws. It is pleasant too, 
 when the congregation breaks up, to greet one's neigh- 
 bours ; to say kind words to kind faces : to hear some 
 rural news profitable to learn, which sometimes enables 
 you to do some good, and sometimes prevents others from 
 doing some harm. A quiet domestic walk too in tho 
 
 E
 
 242 LOTHAIK. 
 
 afternoon has its pleasures ; and so numerous and so various 
 are the sources of interest in the country, that, though it 
 be Sunday, there is no reason why your walk should not 
 have an object. 
 
 But Sunday in the country, with your house full of 
 visitors, is too often an exception to this general truth. 
 It is a trial. Your guests cannot always be at church, 
 and, if they could, would not like it. There is nothing to 
 interest or amuse them : no sport ; no castles or factories 
 to visit ; no adventurous expeditions ; no gay music in the 
 morn, and no light dance in the evening. There is always 
 danger of the day becoming a course of heavy meals and 
 stupid walks, for the external scene and all its teeming 
 circumstances, natural and human, though fall of concern 
 to you, are to your visitors an insipid blank. 
 
 How did Sunday go off at Muriel Towers ? 
 
 in the first place there was a special train, which at an 
 early hour took the Cardinal and his suite and the St. 
 Jerome family to Grandchester, where they were awaited 
 with profound expectation. But the Anglican portion of the 
 guests were not without their share of ecclesiastical and 
 spiritual excitement, for the Bishop was to preach this day 
 in the chapel of the Towers, a fine and capacious sanctuary 
 of florid Gothic, and his Lordship was a sacerdotal orator 
 of repute. 
 
 It had been announced that the breakfast hour was to be 
 somewhat earlier. The ladies in general were punctual, and 
 seemed conscious of some great event impending. The 
 ladies Flora and Grizell entered with, each in her hand, a 
 prayer-book of purple velvet adorned with a decided cross, 
 the gift of the Primus. Lord Culloden, at the request of 
 Lady Corisande, had consented to their hearing the Bishop, 
 which he would not do himself. He passed his morning in 
 finally examining the guardians' accounts, the investigation 
 of which he conducted and concluded during the rest of
 
 LOTHAIE. 243 
 
 the day with Mr. Putney Giles. Mrs. Campian did not 
 leave her room. Lord St. Aldegonde came down late, and 
 looked about him with an uneasy, ill-humoured air. 
 
 Whether from the absence of Theodora or from some 
 other cause, he was brusk, ungracious, scowling, and silent, 
 only nodding to the Bishop who benignly saluted him, re- 
 fusing every dish that was offered, then getting up and 
 helping himself at the side table, making a great noise with 
 the carving instruments, and flouncing down his plate when 
 he resumed his seat. Nor was his costume correct. All 
 the other gentlemen, though their usual morning dresses 
 were sufficiently fantastic (trunk hose of every form, stock- 
 ings bright as paroquets, wondrous shirts, and velvet coats 
 of every tint), habited themselves to-day, both as regards 
 form and colour, in a style indicative of the subdued gravity 
 of their feelings. Lord St. Aldegonde had on his shooting 
 jacket of brown velvet and a pink shirt and no cravat, and 
 his rich brown locks, always to a certain degree neglected, 
 were peculiarly dishevelled. 
 
 Hugo Bohun, who was not afraid of him and was a high 
 churchman, being in religion and in all other matters 
 always on the side of the Duchesses, said, ' Well, St. Alde- 
 gonde, are you going to chapel in that dress ? ' But St. 
 Aldegonde would not answer ; he gave a snort and glanced 
 at Hugo with the eye of a gladiator. 
 
 The meal was over. The Bishop was standing near the 
 mantelpiece talking to the ladies, who were clustered round 
 him ; the Archdeacon and the Chaplain and some other 
 clergy a little in the background ; Lord St. Aldegonde, who, 
 whether there were a fire or not, always stood with his 
 back to the fireplace with his hands in his pockets, moved 
 discourteously among them, assumed his usual position, and 
 listened, as it were grimly, for a few moments to their talk ; 
 then he suddenly exclaimed in a loud voice, and with the 
 groan of a rebellious Titan, ' How I hate Sunday 1 ' 
 
 B 2
 
 244 LOTHAIR. 
 
 ' Granville ! ' exclaimed Lady St. Aldegonde, turning 
 pale. There was a general shudder. 
 
 ' I mean in a country-house,' said Lord St. Aldegonde. 
 ' Of course I mean in a country-house. I do not dislike it 
 when alone, and I do not dislike it in London. But Sun- 
 day in a country-house is infernal.' 
 
 ' I think it is now time for us to go,' said the Bishop, 
 walking away with dignified reserve, and they all dispersed. 
 
 The service was choral and intoned ; for although the Rev. 
 Dionysius Smylie had not yet had time or opportunity, as 
 was his intention, to form and train a choir from the house- 
 hold of the Towers, he had secured from his neighbouring 
 parish and other sources external and effective aid in that 
 respect. The parts of the service were skilfully distributed, 
 and rarely were a greater number of priests enlisted in a 
 more imposing manner. A good organ was well played ; 
 the singing, as usual, a little too noisy ; there was an an- 
 them and an introit, but no incense, which was forbidden 
 by the Bishop ; and though there were candles on the 
 altar, they were not permitted to be lighted. 
 
 The sermon was most successful ; the ladies returned with 
 elate and animated faces, quite enthusiastic and almost for- 
 getting in their satisfaction the terrible outrage of Lord St. 
 Aldegonde. He himself had by this time repented of what 
 he had done and recovered his temper, and greeted his wife 
 with a voice and look which indicated to her practised 
 senses the favourable change. 
 
 'Bertha,' he said, 'you know I did not mean anything 
 personal to the Bishop in what I said. I do not like 
 Bishops ; I think there is no use in them ; but I have no 
 objection to him personally ; I think him an agreeable man ; 
 not at all a bore. Just put it right, Bertha. But I tell 
 you what, Bertha, I cannot go to church here. Lord Cul- 
 loden does not go, and he is a very religious man. He is 
 the man I most agree with on these matters. I am a free
 
 LOTHAIK. 245 
 
 churchman, and there is an end of it. I cannot go this 
 afternoon. I do not approve of the whole thing. It is 
 altogether against my conscience. What I mean to do, if 
 I can manage it, is to take a real long walk with the Cam 
 plans.' 
 
 Mrs. Campian appeared at luncheon. The Bishop was 
 attentive to her ; even cordial. He was resolved she 
 should not feel he was annoyed by her not having been a 
 member of his congregation in the morning. Lady Cori- 
 sande too had said to him, ' I wish so much yon would 
 talk to Mrs. Campian ; she is a sweet, noble creature, and 
 so clever ! I feel that she might be brought to view things 
 in the right light.' 
 
 ' I never know,' said the Bishop, ' how to deal with these 
 American ladieau I never can make out what they belie\ e, 
 or what they disbelieve. It is a sort of confusion between 
 Mrs. Beecher Stowe and the Fifth Avenue congregation 
 and Barnum,' he added with a twinkling eye. 
 
 The second service was late ; the Dean preached. The 
 lateness of the hour permitted the Lord Lieutenant and 
 those guests who had arrived only the previous day to look 
 over the castle, or ramble about the gardens. St. Aide* 
 gonde succeeded in his scheme of a real long walk with the 
 Campians, which Lothair, bound to listen to the head of 
 his college, was not permitted to share. 
 
 In the evening Signor Mardoni, who had arrived, and 
 Madame Isola Bella favoured them with what they called 
 sacred music ; principally prayers from operas and a grand 
 Stabat Mater. 
 
 Lord Culloden invited Lothair into a further saloon, 
 where they might speak without disturbing the performers 
 or the audience. 
 
 ' I'll just take advantage, my dear boy,' said Lord Cullo- 
 den, in a tone of unusual tenderness, and of Doric accent, 
 1 of the absence of these gentlemen to have a little quiot
 
 246 LOTHAIR. 
 
 conversation with you. Though I have not seen so much 
 of you of late as in old days, I take a great interest in you, 
 no doubt of that, and I was very pleased to see how good- 
 natured you were to the girls. You have romped with 
 them when they were little ones. Now, in a few hours, 
 you will be master of a great inheritance, and I hope it 
 will profit ye. I have been over the accounts with Mr. 
 Giles, and I was pleased to hear that you had made your- 
 self properly acquainted with them in detail. Never you 
 sign any paper without reading it first, and knowing well 
 what it means. You will have to sign a release to us if 
 you be satisfied, and that you may easily be. My poor 
 brother-in-law left you as large an income as may be found 
 on this side Trent, but I will be bound he would stare if 
 he saw the total of the whole of your rentroll, Lothair. 
 Your affairs have been well administered, though I say it 
 who ought not. But it is not my management only, or 
 principally, that has done it. It is the progress of the 
 country, and you owe the country a good deal, and you 
 should never forget you are born to be a protector of its 
 liberties, civil and religious. And if the country sticks to 
 free trade, and would enlarge its currency, and be firm to 
 the Protestant faith, it will, under Divine Providence, con- 
 tinue to progress. 
 
 ' And here, my boy, I'll just say a word, in no disagree- 
 able manner, about your religious principles. There are a 
 great many stories about, and perhaps they are not true, and 
 I am sure I hope they are not. If Popery were only just 
 the sign of the cross, and music, and censer-pots, though I 
 think them all superstitious, I'd be free to leave them alone 
 if they would leave me. But Popery is a much deeper thing 
 than that, Lothair, and our fathers found it out. They 
 could not stand it, and we should be a craven crew to stand 
 it now. A man should be master in his own house. You 
 will be taking a wife some day ; at least it is to be hoped
 
 LOTHAIB. 247 
 
 so ; and how will you like one of these Monsignores to be 
 walking into her bedroom, eh ; and talking to her alone 
 when he pleases, and where he pleases ; and when yon want 
 to consult your wife, which a wise man should often do, to 
 find there is another mind between hers and yours ? There's 
 my girls, they are just two young geese, and they have a 
 hankering after Popery, having had a Jesuit in the house. 
 I do not know what has come to the women. They are for 
 going into a convent, and they are quite right in that, for 
 if they be Papists they will not find a husband easily in 
 Scotland, I ween. 
 
 ' And as for you, my boy, they will be telling you that it 
 is only just this and just that, and there's no great differ- 
 ence, and what not ; but I tell you that if once you embrace 
 the scarlet lady, you are a tainted corpse. You'll not be 
 able to order your dinner without a priest, and they will 
 ride your best horses without saying with your leave or by 
 your leave.' 
 
 The concert in time ceased ; there was a stir in the room ; 
 the Rev. Dionysius Smylie moved about mysteriously, and 
 ultimately seemed to make an obeisance before the Bishop. 
 It was time for prayers. 
 
 ' Shall you go ? ' said Lord St. Aldegonde to Mrs. Cam- 
 pian, by whom he was sitting. 
 
 ' I like to pray alone,' she answered. 
 
 'As for that,' said St. Aldegonde, 'I am not clear we 
 ought to pray at all ; either in public or private. It seems 
 very arrogant in us to dictate to an all-wise Creator what 
 we desire.' 
 
 ' I believe in the efficacy of prayer,' said Theodora. 
 
 ' And I believe in you,' said St. Aldegonde, after a mo- 
 mentary pause.
 
 248 LOTHAIB. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 ON the morrow, the early celebration in the chapel waa 
 numerously attended. The Duchess and her daughters, 
 Lady Agramont, and Mrs. Ardenne were among the faith- 
 ful ; but what encouraged and gratified the Bishop was, 
 that the laymen, on whom he less relied, were numerously 
 represented. The Lord Lieutenant, Lord Carisbrooke, Lord 
 Montairy, Bertram, and Hugo Bohnn accompanied Lothair 
 to the altar. 
 
 After the celebration, Lothair retired to his private apart- 
 ments. It was arranged that he was to join his assembled 
 friends at noon, when he would receive their congratula- 
 tions, and some deputations from the county. 
 
 At noon, therefore, preparatively preceded by Mr. Put- 
 ney Giles, whose thought was never asleep, and whose eye 
 was on everything, the guardians, the Cardinal and the 
 Earl of Culloden, waited on Lothair to accompany him to 
 his assembled friends, and, as it were, launch him into the 
 world. 
 
 They were assembled at one end of the chief gallery, and 
 in a circle. Although the deputations would have to ad- 
 vance the whole length of the chamber, Lothair and his 
 guardians entered from a side apartment. Even with this 
 assistance he felt very nervous. There was no lack of feel- 
 ing, and, among many, of deep feeling, on this occasion, 
 but there was an equal and a genuine exhibition of cere- 
 mony. 
 
 The Lord Lieutenant was the first person who congratu- 
 lated Lothair, though the High Sheriff had pushed forward 
 for that purpose, but, in his awkward precipitation, he got 
 involved with the train of the Honorable Lady Clotworthy,
 
 LOTHAIR. 249 
 
 who bestowed on him such a withering glance, that he felt 
 a routed man, and gave up the attempt. There were many 
 kind and some earnest words. Even St. Aldegonde ac- 
 knowledged the genius of the occasion. He was grave, 
 graceful, and dignified, and addressing Lothair by his title 
 he said, ' that he hoped he would meet in life that happiness 
 which he felt confident he deserved.' Theodora said no- 
 thing, thongh her lips seemed once to move ; but she re- 
 tained for a moment Lothair' s hand, and the expression of 
 her countenance touched his innermost heart. Lady Cori- 
 sande beamed with dazzling beauty. Her countenance was 
 joyous, radiant ; her mien imperial and triumphant. She 
 gave her hand with graceful alacrity to Lothair, and said in 
 a hushed tone, but every word of which reached his ear, 
 ' One of the happiest hours of my life was eight o'clock this 
 morning.' 
 
 The Lord Lieutenant and the county members then re- 
 cired to the other end of the gallery, and ushered in the 
 deputation of the magistracy of the county, congratulating 
 their new brother, for Lothair had just been appointed to 
 the bench, on his accession to his estates. The Lord Lieu- 
 tenant himself read the address, to which Lothair replied 
 with a propriety all acknowledged. Then came the address 
 of the Mayor and Corporation of Grandchester, of which 
 city Lothair was hereditary high steward ; and then that of 
 his tenantry, which was cordial and characteristic. And 
 here many were under the impression that this portion of 
 the proceedings would terminate ; but it was not so. There 
 had been some whispering between the Bishop and the 
 Archdeacon, and the Rev. Dionysius Smylie had, after 
 conference with his superiors, twice left the chamber. It 
 seems that the clergy had thought fit to take this occasion 
 of congratulating Lothair on his great accession, and the 
 proportionate duties which it would fall on him to fulfil. 
 The Bishop approached Lothair and addressed him in a
 
 250 LOTHAIR. 
 
 whisper. Lotliair seemed surprised and a little agitated, 
 but apparently bowed assent. Then the Bishop and his 
 staff proceeded to the end of the gallery and introduced a 
 diocesan deputation, consisting of archdeacons and rural 
 deans, who presented to Lothair a most uncompromising 
 address, and begged his acceptance of a bible and prayer- 
 book richly bound, and borne by the Rev. Dionysius Smylie 
 on a cushion of velvet. 
 
 The habitual pallor of the Cardinal's countenance became 
 unusually wan ; the cheek of Clare Arundel was a crimson 
 flush ; Monsignore Catesby bit his lip ; Theodora looked with 
 curious seriousness as if she were observing the manners of 
 a foreign country ; St. Aldegonde snorted and pushed his 
 hand through his hair, which had been arranged in unusual 
 order. The great body of those present, unaware that this 
 deputation was unexpected, were unmoved. 
 
 It was a trial for Lothair, and scarcely a fair one. He 
 was not unequal to it, and what he said was esteemed at the 
 moment by all parties as satisfactory ; though the Arch- 
 deacon in secret conclave afterwards observed, that he 
 dwelt more on Religion than on the Church, and spoke of 
 the Church of Christ and not of the Church of England. 
 He thanked them for their present of volumes which all 
 must reverence or respect. 
 
 While all this was taking place within the Towers, vast 
 bodies of people were assembling without. Besides the 
 notables of the county and his tenantry and their families, 
 which drained all the neighbouring villages, Lothair had 
 forwarded several thousand tickets to the Mayor and Cor- 
 poration of Grandchester, for distribution among their 
 fellow-townsmen, who were invited to dine at Muriel and 
 partake of the festivities of the day, and trains were hourly 
 arriving with their eager and happy guests. The gardens 
 were at once open for their unrestricted pleasure, but at 
 two o'clock, according to the custom of the county under
 
 LOTHAIK. 251 
 
 such circumstances, Lothair held what in fact was a leve"e, 
 or rather a drawing-room, when every person who pos- 
 sessed a ticket was permitted, and even invited and ex- 
 pected, to pass through the whole range of the state apart- 
 ments of Muriel Towers, and at the same time pay their 
 respects to, and make the acquaintance of, their lord. 
 
 Lothair stood with his chief friends near him, the ladies 
 however seated, and everyone passed : farmers and towns- 
 men and honest folk down to the stokers of the trains 
 from Grandchester, with whose presence St. Aldegonde 
 was much pleased, and whom he carefully addressed as 
 they passed by. 
 
 After this great reception they all dined in pavilions in 
 the park : one thousand tenantry by themselves and at a 
 fixed hour ; the miscellaneous multitude in a huge crimson 
 tent, very lofty, with many flags, and in which was served 
 a banquet that never stopped till sunset, so that in time all 
 might be satisfied ; the notables and deputations, with 
 the guests in the house, lunched in the armoury. It was 
 a bright day, and there was unceasing music. 
 
 In the course of the afternoon, Lothair visited the 
 pavilions, where his health was proposed and pledged, in 
 the first by one of his tenants, and in the other by a work- 
 man, both orators of repute ; and he addressed and thanked 
 his friends. This immense multitude, orderly and joyous, 
 roamed about the parks and gardens, or danced on a plat- 
 form which the prescient experience of Mr. Giles had pro- 
 vided for them in a due locality, and whiled away tho 
 pleasant hours, in expectation a little feverish of the im- 
 pending fireworks, which, there was a rumour, were to be 
 on a scale and in a style of which neither Grandchester nor 
 the county had any tradition. 
 
 ' I remember your words at Blenheim,' said Lothair to 
 Theodora. ' You cannot say the present party is founded 
 on the principle of exclusion.'
 
 252 LOTHAIR. 
 
 In the meantime, about six o'clock, Lothair dined in his 
 great hall with his two hundred guests at a banquet where 
 all the resources of nature and art seemed called upon to 
 contribute to its luxury and splendour. The ladies who 
 had never before dined at a public dinner were particularly 
 delighted. They were delighted by the speeches, though 
 they had very few ; they were delighted by the national 
 anthem, all rising ; particularly they were delighted by 
 4 three times three and one cheer more,' and ' hip, hip.' It 
 seemed to their unpractised ears like a great naval battle, 
 or the end of the world, or anything else of unimaginable 
 excitement, tumult, and confusion. 
 
 The Lord Lieutenant proposed Lothair's health, and 
 dexterously made his comparative ignorance of the subject 
 the cause of his attempting a sketch of what he hoped 
 might be the character of the person whose health he pro- 
 posed. Everyone intuitively felt the resemblance was just 
 and even complete, and Lothair confirmed their kind and 
 sanguine anticipations by his terse and well-considered 
 reply. His proposition of the ladies' healths was a signal 
 that the carriages were ready to take them, as arranged, to 
 Muriel Mere. 
 
 The sun had set in glory over the broad expanse of 
 waters still glowing in the dying beam ; the people were 
 assembled in thousands on the borders of the lake, in the 
 centre of which was an island with a pavilion. Fanciful 
 barges and gondolas of various shapes and colours were 
 waiting for Lothair and his party, to carry them over to 
 the pavilion, where they found a repast which became the 
 hour and the scene : coffee and ices and whimsical drinks, 
 which sultanas would sip in Arabian tales. No sooner 
 were they seated than the sound of music was heard, dis- 
 tant, but now nearer, till there came floating on the lake, 
 until it rested before the pavilion, a gigantic shell, larger
 
 LOTHAIR. 253 
 
 than the building itself, but holding in its golden autl opal 
 seats Signor Mardoni and all his orchestra. 
 
 Then came a concert rare in itself, and ravishing in the 
 rosy twilight ; and in about half an hour, when the rosy 
 twilight had subsided into a violet eve, and when the white 
 moon that had only gleamed began to glitter, the colossal 
 shell again moved on, and Lothair and his companions em- 
 barking once more in their gondolas, followed it in proces- 
 sion about the lake. He carried in his own barque the 
 Duchess, Theodora, and the Lord Lieutenant, and was 
 rowed by a crew in Venetian dresses. As he handed Theo- 
 dora to her seat the impulse was irresistible : he pressed 
 her hand to his lips. 
 
 Suddenly a rocket rose with a hissing rush from the 
 pavilion. It was instantly responded to from every quarter 
 of the lake. Then the island seemed on fire, and the scene 
 of their late festivity became a brilliant palace, with pedi- 
 ments and columns and statues, bright in the blaze of 
 coloured flame. For half an hour the sky seemed covered 
 with blue lights and the bursting forms of many-coloured 
 stars ; golden fountains, like the eruption of a marine vol- 
 cano, rose from different parts of the water ; the statued 
 palace on the island changed and became a forest glowing 
 with green light ; and finally a temple of cerulean tint, on 
 which appeared in huge letters of prismatic colour the 
 name of Lothair. 
 
 The people cheered, but even the voice of the people was 
 overcome by troops of rockets rising from every quarter of 
 the lake, and by the thunder of artillery. When the noise 
 and the smoke had both subsided, the name of Lothair still 
 legible on the temple but the letters quite white, it wag 
 perceived that on every height for fifty miles round they 
 had fired a beacon.
 
 254 LOTHAIB. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVm. 
 
 THE ball at Muriel which followed the concert on the lake 
 was one of those balls which, it would seem, never would 
 end. All the preliminary festivities, instead of exhausting 
 the guests of Lothair, appeared only to have excited them, 
 and rendered them more romantic and less tolerant of the 
 routine of existence. They danced in the great gallery, 
 which was brilliant and crowded, and they danced as they 
 dance in a festive dream, with joy and the enthusiasm of 
 gaiety. The fine ladies would sanction no exclusiveness. 
 They did not confine their inspiring society, as is some- 
 times too often the case, to the Brecons and the Bertrams 
 and the Carisbrookes ; they danced fully and freely with 
 the youth of the county, and felt that in so doing they 
 were honouring and gratifying their host. 
 
 At one o'clock they supped in the armoury, which was 
 illuminated for the first time, and a banquet in a scene so 
 picturesque and resplendent renovated not merely their 
 physical energies. At four o'clock the Duchess and a few 
 otners quietly disappeared, but her daughters remained, 
 and St. Aldegonde danced endless reels, which was a form 
 in which he preferred to worship Terpsichore. Perceiving 
 by an open window that it was dawn, he came up to 
 Lothair and said, ' This is a case of breakfast.' 
 
 Happy and frolicsome suggestion ! The invitations cir- 
 culated, and it was soon known that they were all to gather 
 at the matin meal. 
 
 ' I am so sorry that her Grace has retired,' said Hugo 
 Bohun to Lady St. Aldegonde, as he fed her with bread and 
 butter, 'because she always likes early breakfasts in the 
 country.'
 
 LOTHAIK. 255 
 
 Tho sun was shining as the guests of the house retired, 
 and sank into couches from which it seemed they never 
 could rise again ; hut, long after this, the shouts of servants 
 and the scuffle of carriages intimated that the company in 
 general were not so fortunate and expeditious in their re- 
 tirement from the scene ; and the fields were all busy, and 
 even the towns awake, when the great body of the wearied 
 but delighted wassailers returned from celebrating the 
 majority of Lothair. 
 
 In the vast and statesmanlike programme of the festivi- 
 ties of the week, which had been prepared by Mr. and Mrs. 
 Putney Giles, something of interest and importance had 
 been appropriated to the morrow, but it was necessary to 
 erase all this ; and for a simple reason : no human being on 
 the morrow morn even appeared ; one might say, even 
 stirred. After all the gay tumult in which even thousands 
 had joined, Muriel Towers on the morrow presented a scene 
 which only could have been equalled by the castle in the 
 fairy tale inhabited by the Sleeping Beauty. 
 
 At length, about two hours after noon, bells began to 
 sound which were not always answered. Then a languid 
 household prepared a meal of which no one for a time par- 
 took, till at last a Monsignore appeared and a rival Anglican 
 or two. Then St. Aldegonde came in with a troop of men 
 who had been bathing in the mere, and called loudly for 
 kidneys, which happened to be the only thing not at hand, 
 as is always the case. St. Aldegonde always required kid- 
 neys when he had sate up all night and bathed. ' But the 
 odd thing is,' he said, ' you never can get anything to eat 
 in these houses. Their infernal cooks spoil everything. 
 That is why I hate staying with Bertha's people in the 
 north at the end of the year. What I want in November 
 is a slice of cod and a beefsteak, and by Jove I never could 
 get them ; I was obliged to come to town. It is no joke to 
 have to travel three hundred miles for a slice of cod and a 
 beefsteak.'
 
 256 LOTHAIR. 
 
 Notwithstanding all this, however, such is the magic of 
 custom, that by sunset civilisation had resumed its reign at 
 Muriel Towers. The party were assembled before dinner in 
 the saloon, and really looked as fresh and bright as if the 
 exhausting and tumultuous yesterday had never happened. 
 The dinner, too, notwithstanding the criticism of St. Alde- 
 gonde, was first-rate, and pleased palates not so simply 
 fastidious as his own. The Bishop and his suite were to 
 depart on the morrow, but the Cardinal was to remain. 
 His Eminence talked much to Mrs. Campian, by whom, 
 from the first, he was much struck. He was aware that 
 she was born a Roman, and was not surprised that, having 
 married a citizen of the United States, her sympathies were 
 what are styled liberal ; but this only stimulated his anxious 
 resolution to accomplish her conversion, both religious and 
 political. He recognised in her a being whose intelligence, 
 imagination, and grandeur of character might be of in- 
 valuable service to the Church. 
 
 In the evening Monsieur Raphael and his sister, and 
 their colleagues, gave a representation which was extremely 
 well done. There was no theatre at Muriel, but Apollonia 
 had felicitously arranged a contiguous saloon for the oc- 
 casion, and, as everybody was at ease in an arm-chair, they 
 all agreed it was preferable to a regular theatre. 
 
 On the morrow they were to lunch with the Mayor and 
 Corporation of Grandchester and view some of the princi- 
 pal factories ; on the next day the county gave a dinner to 
 Lothair in their hall, the Lord Lieutenant in the chair ; on 
 Friday there was to be a ball at Grandchester given by the 
 county and city united to celebrate the great local event. 
 It was whispered that this was to be a considerable 
 affair. There was not an hour of the week that was not 
 appropriated to some festive ceremony. 
 
 It happened on the morning of Thursday, the Cardinal 
 being alone with Lothair, transacting some lingering busi-
 
 LOTHAIB. 257 
 
 ness connected with the guardianship, and on his legs as he 
 spoke, that he said, ' We live in such a happy tnmu.lt here, 
 my dear child, that I have never had an opportunity of 
 speaking to you on one or two points which interest me 
 and should not be uninteresting to you. I remember a 
 pleasant morning- walk we had in the park at Vauxe, when 
 we began a conversation which we never finished. What say 
 you to a repetition of our stroll ? "Tis a lovely day, and I 
 dare say we might escape by this window, and gain some 
 green retreat without anyone disturbing us.' 
 
 ' I am quite of your Eminence's mind,' said Lothair, 
 taking up a wide-awake, ' and I will lead you where it ia 
 not likely we shall be disturbed.' 
 
 So winding their way through the pleasure-grounds, they 
 entered by a wicket a part of the park where the sunny 
 glades soon wandered among the tall fern and wild groves 
 of venerable oaks. 
 
 * I sometimes feel,' said the Cardinal, ' that I may have 
 been too punctilious in avoiding conversation with you on a 
 subject the most interesting and important to man. But I 
 felt a delicacy in exerting my influence as a guardian on a 
 subject my relations to which, when your dear father ap- 
 pointed me to that office, were so different from those which 
 now exist. But you are now your own master ; I can use 
 no control over you but that influence which the words of 
 truth must always exercise over an ingenuous mind.' 
 
 His Eminence paused for a moment and looked at his 
 companion; but Lothair remained silent, with his eyes 
 fixed upon the ground. 
 
 ' It has always been a source of satisfaction,. I would 
 even say consolation, to me,' resumed the Cardinal, 'to 
 know you were a religious man ; that your disposition was 
 reverential, which is the highest order of temperament, and 
 brings us nearest to the angels. But we live in times of 
 difficulty and danger, extreme difficulty and danger; a
 
 258 LOTHAIK. 
 
 religious disposition may suffice for youth in the tranquil 
 hour, and he may find, in due season, his appointed resting- 
 place : but these are days of imminent peril ; the soul re- 
 quires a sanctuary. Is yours at hand ? ' 
 
 The Cardinal paused, and Lothair was obliged to meet a 
 direct appeal. He said then, after a momentary hesitation, 
 ' When you last spoke to me, sir, on these grave matters, 
 I said I was in a state of great despondency. My situation 
 now is not so much despondent as perplexed.' 
 
 ' And I wish you to tell me the nature of your perplexity,' 
 replied the Cardinal, ' for there is no anxious embarrass- 
 ment of mind which Divine truth cannot disentangle and 
 allay.' 
 
 ' Well,' said Lothair, ' I must say I am often perplexed 
 at the differences which obtrude themselves between Divine 
 truth and human knowledge.' 
 
 ' Those are inevitable,' said the Cardinal. ' Divine truth 
 being unchangeable, and human knowledge changing every 
 century ; rather, I should say, every generation.' 
 
 ' Perhaps, instead of human knowledge, I should have 
 said human progress,' rejoined Lothair. 
 
 ' Exactly,' said the Cardinal ; ' but what is progress ? 
 Movement. But what if it be movement in the wrong 
 direction ? What if it be a departure from Divine truth ? ' 
 
 ' But I cannot understand why religion should be incon- 
 sistent with civilisation,' said Lothair. 
 
 1 Religion is civilisation,' said the Cardinal ; ' the highest : 
 it is a reclamation of man from savageness by the Almighty 
 What the world calls civilisation, as distinguished from 
 religion, is a retrograde movement, and will ultimately 
 lead us back to the barbarism from which we have escaped. 
 For instance, you talk of progress ; what is the chief social 
 movement of all the countries that three centuries ago 
 separated from the unity of the Church of Christ ? The 
 rejection of the sacrament of Christian matrimony. The
 
 LOTHAIR 259 
 
 introduction of the law of divorce, which is, in fact, only a 
 middle term to the abolition of marriage. What does that 
 mean ? The extinction of the home and the household on 
 which God has rested civilisation. If there be no home, 
 the child belongs to the state, not to the parent. The 
 state educates the child, and without religion, because tho 
 state in a country of progress acknowledges no religion. 
 For every man is not only to think as he likes, but to write 
 and to speak as he likes, and to sow with both hands 
 broadcast where he will, errors, heresies, and blasphemies, 
 without any authority on earth to restrain the scattering 
 of this seed of universal desolation. And this system, 
 which would substitute for domestic sentiment and Divine 
 belief the unlimited and licentious action of human intel- 
 lect and human will, is called progress. What is it but a 
 revolt against God ! ' 
 
 ' I am sure I wish there were only one Church and one 
 religion,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' There is only one Church and only one religion,' said 
 the Cardinal ; ' all other forms and phrases are mere 
 phantasms, without root, or substance, or coherency. 
 Look at that unhappy Germany, once so proud of its 
 Reformation. What they call the leading journal tells us 
 to-day, that it is a question there whether four-fifths or 
 three-fourths of the population believe in Christianity. 
 Some portion of it has already gone back, I understand, to 
 NUMBER NIP. Look at this unfortunate land, divided, sub- 
 divided, parcelled out in infinite schism, with new oracles 
 every day, and each more distinguished for the narrowness 
 of his intellect or the loudness of his lungs ; once the land 
 of saints and scholars, and people in pious pilgrimages, and 
 finding always solace and support in the divine offices of an 
 ever-present Church, which were a true though a faint 
 type of the beautiful future that awaited man. Why, only 
 three centuries of this rebellion against the Most High 
 
 2
 
 260 LOTHAIE. 
 
 have produced throughout the world, on the subject the 
 most important that man should possess a clear, firm faith, 
 an anarchy of opinion throwing out every monstrous and 
 fantastic form, from a caricature of the Greek philosophy 
 to a revival of Fetism.' 
 
 ' It is a chaos,' said Lothair, with a sigh. 
 
 ' From which I wish to save you,' said the Cardinal, 
 with some eagerness. ' This is not a time to hesitate. 
 You must be for God, or for Antichrist. The Church calls 
 upon her children.' 
 
 ' I am not unfaithful to the Church,' said Lothair, 
 * which was the Church of my fathers.' 
 
 ' The Church of England,' said the Cardinal. ' It was 
 mine. I think of it ever with tenderness and pity. Par- 
 liament made the Church of England, and Parliament will 
 unmake the Church of England. The Church of England 
 is not the Church of the English. Its fate is sealed. It 
 will soon become a sect, and all sects are fantastic. It will 
 adopt new dogmas, or it will abjure old ones ; anything to 
 distinguish it from the non-conforming herd in which, 
 nevertheless, it will be its fate to merge. The only con- 
 soling hope is that, when it falls, many of its children, by 
 the aid of the Blessed Virgin, may return to Christ.' 
 
 ' What I regret, sir,' said Lothair, ' is that the Church of 
 Home should have placed itself in antagonism with political 
 liberty. This adds to the difficulties which the religious 
 cause has to encounter ; for it seems impossible to deny 
 that political freedom is now the sovereign passion of 
 communities.' 
 
 * I cannot admit,' replied the Cardinal, ' that the Church 
 is in antagonism with political freedom. On the contrary, 
 in my opinion, there can be no political freedom which is 
 not founded on Divine authority ; otherwise it can be at the 
 best but a specious phantom of license inevitably termina- 
 ting in anarchy. The rights and liberties of the people of
 
 LOTHAIR. 261 
 
 Ireland have no advocates except the Church; because 
 there, political freedom is founded on Divine authority; 
 but if you mean by political freedom the schemes of the 
 illuminati and the freemasons which perpetually torture the 
 Continent, all the dark conspiracies of the secret societies, 
 there, I admit, the Church is in antagonism with such 
 aspirations after liberty ; those aspirations, in fact, are 
 blasphemy and plunder ; and if the Church were to be 
 destroyed, Europe would be divided between the Atheist 
 and the Communist.' 
 
 There was a pause ; the conversation had unexpectedly 
 arrived at a point where neither party cared to pursue it. 
 Lothair felt he had said enough ; the Cardinal was dis- 
 appointed with what Lothair had said. His Eminence felt 
 that his late ward was not in that ripe state of probation 
 which he had fondly anticipated ; but being a man not 
 only of vivid perception, but also of fertile resource, while 
 he seemed to close the present conversation, he almost 
 immediately pursued his object by another combination of 
 means. Noticing an effect of scenery which pleased him, 
 reminded him of Styria, and so on, he suddenly said : 
 ' You should travel.' 
 
 'Well, Bertram wants me to go to Egypt with him,' 
 said Lothair. 
 
 'A most interesting country,' said the Cardinal, 'and 
 well worth visiting. It is astonishing what a good guide 
 old Herodotus still is in that land ! But you should know 
 something of Europe before you go there. Egypt is rather 
 a land to end with. A young man should visit the chief 
 capitals of Europe, especially the seats of learning and the 
 arts. If my advice were asked by a young man who con- 
 templated travelling on a proper scale, I should say begin 
 with Rome. Almost all that Europe contains is derived 
 from Home. It is always best to go to the fountain-head, 
 to study the original. The society too, there, is delightful :
 
 262 LOTHAIE. 
 
 I know none equal to it. That, if you please, is civilisation, 
 pious and refined. And the people, all so gifted and so 
 good, so kind, so orderly, so charitable, so truly virtuous. 
 I believe the Roman people to be the best people that ever 
 lived, and this too while the secret societies have their 
 foreign agents in every quarter, trying to corrupt them, 
 but always in vain. If an act of political violence occurs, 
 you may be sure it is confined entirely to foreigners.' 
 
 ' Our friends the St. Jeromes are going to Rome,' said 
 Lothair. 
 
 'Well, and that would be pleasant for you. Think 
 seriously of this, my dear young friend. I could be of 
 some little service to you if you go to Rome, which, after 
 all, every man ought to do. I could put you in the way of 
 easily becoming acquainted with all the right people, who 
 would take care that you saw Rome with profit and ad- 
 vantage.' 
 
 Just at this moment, in a winding glade, they were met 
 abruptly by a third person. All seemed rather to start at 
 the sudden rencounter ; and then Lothair eagerly advanced 
 and welcomed the stranger with a proffered hand. 
 
 ' This is a most unexpected, but to me most agreeable, 
 meeting,' he said. ' You must now be my guest.' 
 
 ' That would be a great honour,' said the stranger, ' but 
 one I cannot enjoy. I had to wait at the station a couple 
 of hours or so for my train, and they told me if I strolled 
 here I should find some pretty country. I have been so 
 pleased with it, that I fear I have strolled too long, and I 
 literally have not an instant at my command,' and he 
 hurried away. 
 
 ' Who is that person ? ' asked the Cardinal with some 
 agitation. 
 
 ' I have not the slightest idea,' said Lothair. 'All I know 
 is, ho once saved my life.'
 
 LOTHAIE. 263 
 
 * And all I know is,' said the Cardinal, ' lie once 
 chreatened mine.' 
 
 ' Strange ! ' said Lothair, and then he rapidly recounted 
 to the Cardinal his adventure at the Fenian meeting. 
 
 ' Strange ! ' echoed his Eminence. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 MRS. CAMPIAN did not appear at luncheon, which was ob- 
 served but not noticed. Afterwards, while Lothair was 
 making some arrangements for the amusement of his 
 guests, and contriving that they should fit in with the 
 chief incident of the day, which was the banquet given 
 to him by the county, and which it was settled the ladies 
 were not to attend, the Colonel took him aside and said, 
 ' I do not think that Theodora will care to go out to-day.' 
 
 ' She is not unwell, I hope ? ' 
 
 ' Not exactly ; but she has had some news, some news of 
 some friends, which has disturbed her. And if you will 
 excuse me, I will request your permission not to attend the 
 dinner to-day, which I had hoped to have had the honour 
 of doing. But I think our plans must be changed a little. 
 I almost think we shall not go to Scotland after all.' 
 
 ' There is not the slightest necessity for your going to 
 the dinner. You will have plenty to keep you in counte- 
 nance at home. Lord St. Aldegonde is not going, nor I 
 fancy any of them. I shall take the Duke with me and 
 Lord Culloden, and if you do not go, I shall take Mr. 
 Putney Giles. The Lord Lieutenant will meet us there. 
 I am sorry about Mrs. Campian, because I know she is not 
 ever put out by little things. May I not see her in tho 
 course of the day ? I should be very sorry that the day 
 should pass over without seeing her.'
 
 264 LOTHAIR. 
 
 ' Oh ! I dare say she will see you in the course of the 
 day, before you go.' 
 
 ' When she likes. I shall not go out to-day ; I shall keep 
 in niy rooms, always at her commands. Between ourselves 
 I shall not be sorry to have a quiet morning and collect my 
 ideas a little. Speech-making is a new thing for me. I 
 wish you would tell me what to say to the county.' 
 
 Lothair had appropriated to the Campians one of the 
 most convenient and complete apartments in the castle. It 
 consisted of four chambers, one of them a saloon which had 
 been fitted up for his mother when she married ; a pretty 
 saloon, hung with pale green silk, and portraits and scenes 
 inlaid by Vanloo and Boucher. It was rather late in the 
 afternoon when Lothair received a message from Theodora 
 in reply to the wish that he had expressed of seeing her. 
 
 When he entered the room she was not seated, her 
 countenance was serious. She advanced, and thanked him 
 for wishing to see her, and regretted she could not receive 
 him at an earlier hour. ' I fear it may have inconvenienced 
 you,' she added ; ' but my mind has been much disturbed, 
 and too agitated for conversation.' 
 
 4 Even now I may be an intruder ? ' 
 
 ' No, it is past ; on the contrary, I wish to speak to you ; 
 indeed, you are the only person with whom I could speak,' 
 and she sate down. 
 
 Her countenance, which was unusually pale when he en- 
 tered, became flushed. ' It is not a subject for the festive 
 hour of your life,' she said, ' but I cannot resist my fate.' 
 
 1 Tour fate must always interest me,' murmured Lothair. 
 
 ' Yes, but my fate is the fate of ages and of nations,' 
 said Theodora, throwing up her head with that tumult of 
 the brow which he had once before noticed. * Amid the 
 tortures of my spirit at this moment, not the least is that 
 there is only one person I can appeal to, and he is one to 
 whom I have no right to make that appeal.'
 
 LOTHAIR 265 
 
 ' If I be that person,' said Lothair, ' you have every 
 right, for I am devoted to you.' 
 
 ' Yes ; but it is not personal devotion that is the qualifi- 
 cation needed. It is not sympathy with me that would 
 authorise such an appeal. It must be sympathy with a 
 cause, and a cause for which I fear you do not, perhaps I 
 should say you cannot, feel.' 
 
 'Why?' said Lothair. 
 
 'Why should you feel for my fallen country, who are 
 the proudest citizen of the proudest of lands ? Why should 
 you feel for its debasing thraldom, you who, in the religious 
 mystification of man, have at least the noble privilege of 
 being a Protestant ? ' 
 
 ' You speak of Rome ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, of the only thought I have or ever had. I speak 
 of that country which first impressed upon the world a 
 general and enduring form of masculine virtue ; the land 
 of liberty, and law, and eloquence, and military genius, now 
 garrisoned by monks and governed by a doting priest.' 
 
 'Everybody must be interested about Borne,' said 
 Lothair. ' Borne is the country of the world, and even the 
 doting priest you talk of boasts of two hundred millions of 
 subjects.' 
 
 ' If he were at Avignon again, I should not care for his 
 boasts,' said Theodora. ' I do not grudge him his spiritual 
 subjects ; I am content to leave his superstition to Time. 
 Time is no longer slow ; his scythe mows quickly in this 
 age. But when his debasing creeds are palmed off on 
 man by the authority of our glorious Capitol, and the 
 slavery of the human mind is schemed and carried on in the 
 Forum, then, if there be real Boman blood left, and I 
 thank my Creator there is much, it is time for it to mount 
 and move,' and she rose and walked up and down the 
 room.' 
 
 ' You have had news from Borne ? ' said Lothair.
 
 266 LOTHAIB. 
 
 'I have had news from Rome,' she replied, speaking 
 slowly in a deep voice. And there was a pause. 
 
 Then Lothair said, 'When you have alluded to these 
 matters before, you never spoke of them in a sanguine 
 spirit.' 
 
 ' I have seen the cause triumph,' said Theodora ; ' the 
 sacred cause of truth, of justice, of national honour. I 
 have sate at the feet of the triumvirate of the Roman 
 Republic : men who for virtue, and genius, and warlike 
 skill and valour, and every quality that exalts man, were 
 never surpassed in the olden time ; no, not by the Catoa 
 and the Scipios ; and I have seen the blood of my own 
 race poured like a rich vintage on the victorious Roman 
 soil. My father fell, who in stature and in mien was a god ; 
 and, since then, my beautiful brothers, with shapes to 
 enshrine in temples ; and I have smiled amid the slaughter 
 of my race, for I believed that Rome was free ; and yet all 
 this vanished. How then, when we talked, could I be 
 sanguine ? ' 
 
 ' And yet you are sanguine now ? ' said Lothair, with a 
 scrutinising glance, and he rose and joined her, leaning 
 slightly on the mantelpiece. 
 
 ' There was only one event that could secure the success 
 of our efforts,' said Theodora, ' and that event was so im- 
 probable that I had long rejected it from calculation. It 
 has happened, and Rome calls upon me to act.' 
 
 'The Papalini are strong,' continued Theodora after a 
 pause ; ' they have been long preparing for the French 
 evacuation ; they have a considerable and disciplined force 
 of Janissaries, a powerful artillery, the strong places of 
 the city. The result of a rising under such circumstances 
 might be more than doubtful ; if unsuccessful, to us it 
 would be disastrous. It is necessary that the Roman States 
 should be invaded, and the Papal army must then quit 
 their capital. We have no fear of them in the field. Yes,'
 
 LOTHAIK. 267 
 
 she added with energy, 'we could sweep them from the 
 face of the earth ! ' 
 
 'But the army of Italy,' said Lothair, 'will that be 
 inert?' 
 
 'There it is,' said Theodora. 'That has been our 
 stumbling-block. I have always known that if ever the 
 French quitted Rome it would be on the understanding 
 that the house of Savoy should inherit the noble office of 
 securing our servitude. He in whom I alone confide 
 would never credit this, but my information in this respect 
 was authentic. However, it is no longer necessary to 
 discuss the question. News has come, and in no uncertain 
 shape, that whatever may have been the understanding, 
 under no circumstances will the Italian army enter the 
 Roman States. We must strike, therefore, and Rome will 
 be free. But how am I to strike ? We have neither 
 money nor arms. We have only men. I can give them 
 no more, because I have already given them everything 
 except my life, which is always theirs. As for my 
 husband, who, I may say, wedded me on the battle-field, so 
 far as wealth was concerned he was then a prince among 
 princes, and would pour forth his treasure and his life with 
 equal eagerness. But things have changed since Aspro- 
 monte. The struggle in his own country has entirely 
 deprived him of revenues as great as any forfeited by their 
 Italian princelings. In fact it is only by a chance that he 
 is independent. Had it not been for an excellent man, one 
 of your great English merchants, who was his agent here 
 and managed his affairs, we should have been penniless. 
 His judicious investments of the superfluity of our in- 
 come, which at the time my husband never even noticed, 
 have secured for Colonel Campian the means of that 
 decorous life which he appreciates, but no more. As for 
 myself these considerations are nothing. I will not say I 
 should be insensible to a refined life with refined com-
 
 268 LOTHAIR. 
 
 panions, if the spirit were content and the heart serene j 
 but 1 never could fully realise the abstract idea of what 
 they call wealth ; I never could look upon it except as a 
 means to an end, and my end has generally been military 
 material. Perhaps the vicissitudes of my life have made 
 me insensible to what are called reverses of fortune, for 
 when a child I remember sleeping on the moonlit flags 
 of Paris, with no pillow except my tambourine, and I 
 remember it not without delight. Let us sit down. I feel 
 I am talking in an excited, injudicious, egotistical, rhap- 
 sodical manner. I thought I was calm and I meant to 
 have been clear. But the fact is I am ashamed of myself. 
 I am doing a wrong thing and in a wrong manner. Bat I 
 have had a sleepless night and a day of brooding thought. 
 I meant once to have asked you to help me, and now 
 I feel that yon are the last person to whom I ought to 
 appeal.' 
 
 'In that you are in error,' said Lothair rising and 
 taking her hand with an expression of much gravity ; 
 ' I am the right person for you to appeal to, the only 
 person.' 
 
 ' Nay,' said Theodora, and she shook her head. 
 
 'For I owe to you a debt that I never can repay,' 
 continued Lothair. 'Had it not been for you, I should 
 have remained what I was when we first met, a prejudiced, 
 narrow-minded being, with contracted sympathies and 
 false knowledge, wasting my life on obsolete trifles, and 
 utterly insensible to the privilege of living in this wondrous 
 age of change and progress. Why, had it not been for you 
 I should have at this very moment been lavishing my 
 fortune on an ecclesiastical toy, which I think of with a 
 blush. There may be, doubtless there are, opinions in 
 which we may not agree ; but in our love of truth and 
 justice there is no difference, dearest lady. No ; though 
 you must have felt that I am not, that no one could be,
 
 LOTHAIB. 269 
 
 insensible to your beauty and infinite charms, still it ia 
 your consummate character that has justly fascinated my 
 thought and heart; and I have long resolved, were I 
 permitted, to devote to you my fortune and my life.' 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 THE month of September was considerably advanced, when 
 a cab, evidently from its luggage fresh from the railway, 
 entered the courtyard of Hexham House, of which the 
 shuttered windows indicated the absence of its master, the 
 Cardinal, then in Italy. But it was evident that the 
 person who had arrived was expected, for before his 
 servant could ring the hall bell the door opened, and a 
 grave-looking domestic advanced with much deference, 
 and awaited the presence of no less a personage than 
 Monsignore Berwick. 
 
 ' We have had a rough passage, good Clifford,' said the 
 great man, alighting, ' but I see you duly received my 
 telegram. You are always ready.' 
 
 'I hope my Lord will find it not uncomfortable,' said 
 Clifford. ' I have prepared the little suite which you 
 mentioned, and have been careful that there should be no 
 outward sign of anyone having arrived.' 
 
 ' And now,' said the Monsignore, stopping for a moment 
 in the hall, 'here is a letter which must be instantly de- 
 livered and by a trusty hand,' and he gave it to Mr. 
 Clifford, who, looking at the direction, nodded his head and 
 said, ' By no one but myself. I will show my Lord to hia 
 rooms, and depart with this instantly.' 
 
 'And bring back a reply,' added the Monsignore. 
 
 The well-lit room, the cheerful fire, the judicious refec- 
 tion on a side table, were all circumstances which usually
 
 270 LOTHATR. 
 
 would have been agreeable to a wearied traveller, but 
 Monsignore Berwick seemed little to regard them. Though 
 a man in general superior to care and master of thought, 
 his countenance was troubled and pensive even to de- 
 jection. 
 
 ' Even the winds and waves are against us,' he exclaimed, 
 too restless to be seated, and walking up and down the 
 room with his arms behind his back. ' That such a struggle 
 should fall to my lot ! Why was I not a minister in the 
 days of the Gregorys, the Innocents, even the Leos ! But 
 this is craven. There should be inspiration in peril, and 
 the greatest where peril is extreme. I am a little upset 
 with travel and the voyage and those telegrams not being 
 answered. The good Clifford was wisely provident,' and 
 he approached the table and took one glass of wine. ' Good ! 
 One must never despair in such a cause. And if the worse 
 happens, it has happened before : and what then ? Suppose 
 Avignon over again, or even Gaeta, or even Paris ? So 
 long as we never relinquish our title to the Eternal City we 
 shall be eternal. But then, some say, our enemies before 
 were the sovereigns ; now it is the people. Is it so ? True 
 we have vanquished kings and baffled emperors ; but the 
 French Republic and the Roman Republic have alike 
 reigned and ruled in the Vatican, and where are they ? 
 We have lost provinces, but we have also gained them. 
 We have twelve millions of subjects in the United States of 
 Arc erica, and they will increase like the sands of the sea. 
 Still it is a hideous thing to have come back, as it were, to 
 the days of the Constable of Bourbon, and to be contem- 
 plating the siege of the Holy See, and massacre and pillage 
 and ineffable horrors ! The Papacy may survive such cala- 
 mities, as it undoubtedly will, but I shall scarcely figure in 
 history if under my influence such visitations should accrue. 
 If I had only to deal with men I would not admit of failure ) 
 but when your antagonists are human thoughts, represented
 
 LOTHAIK. 271 
 
 by invisible powers, there is something that might bafflo a 
 Machiavel and appal a Borgia.' 
 
 While he was meditating in this vein the door opened, 
 and Mr. Clifford with some hasty action and speaking 
 rapidly exclaimed, 
 
 'He said he would be here sooner than myself. His 
 carriage was at the door. I drove back as fast as possible ; 
 and indeed I hear something now in the court,' and he 
 disappeared. 
 
 It was only to nsher in, almost immediately, a stately 
 personage in an evening dress, and wearing a decoration of 
 a high class, who saluted the Monsignore with great 
 cordiality. 
 
 ' I am engaged to dine with the Prussian Ambassador, 
 who has been obliged to come to town to receive a prince 
 of the blood who is visiting the dockyards here; but I 
 thought you might be later than you expected, and I 
 ordered my carriage to be in waiting, so that we have a 
 good little hour, and I can come on to you again afterwards 
 if that will not do.' 
 
 ' A little hour with us is a long hour with other people, 
 aaid the Monsignore, ' because we are friends and can speak 
 without windings. You are a true friend to the Holy See ; 
 you have proved it. We are in great trouble and need 
 of aid.' 
 
 ' I hear that things are not altogether as we could wish,' 
 said the gentleman in an evening dress ; ' but I hope, and 
 should think, only annoyances.' 
 
 ' Dangers,' said Berwick, ' and great.' 
 
 How so ? ' 
 
 ' Well, we have invasion threatening us without and in- 
 surrection within,' said Berwick. ' We might, though it is 
 doubtful, successfully encounter one of these perils, bni 
 their united action must be fatal.' 
 
 ' All this has come suddenly,' said the gentleman. * In
 
 272 LOTHAIB. 
 
 the summer you had no fear, and our people wrote to us 
 that we might be perfectly tranquil.' 
 
 ' Just so,' said Berwick. ' If we had met a month ago I 
 should have told you the same thing. A month ago the 
 revolution seemed lifeless, penniless ; without a future, 
 without a resource. They had no money, no credit, no men. 
 At present, quietly but regularly, they are assembling by 
 thousands on our frontiers ; they have to our knowledge 
 received two large consignments of small arms, and ap- 
 parently have unlimited credit with the trade, both in 
 Birmingham and Liege ; they have even artillery ; every- 
 thing is paid for in coin or in good bills ; and, worst of all, 
 they lave a man, the most consummate soldier in Europe. 
 I thought he was at New Tork, and was in hopes he would 
 never have recrossed the Atlantic; but I know that he 
 passed through Florence a fortnight ago, and I have seen a 
 man who says he spoke to him at Narni.' 
 
 ' The Italian government must stop all this,' said the 
 gentleman. 
 
 ' They do not stop it,' said Berwick. ' The government 
 of his Holiness has made every representation to them : 
 we have placed in their hands indubitable evidence of the 
 illegal proceedings that are taking place and of the in- 
 ternal dangers we experience in consequence of their 
 exterior movements. But they do nothing: it is even 
 believed that the royal troops are joining the insurgents, 
 and Garibaldi is spouting with impunity in every balcony 
 of Florence.' 
 
 ' You may depend upon it that our government is making 
 strong representations to the government of Florence.' 
 
 ' I come from Paris and elsewhere,' said Berwick with 
 animation and perhaps a degree of impatience. ' I have 
 seen everybody there, and I have heard everything. It is 
 not representations that are wanted from your government ; 
 it is something of a different kind.'
 
 LOTHAIR. 273 
 
 'But if you have seen everybody at Paris and heard 
 everything, how can I help you ? ' 
 
 ' By acting upon the government here. A word from you 
 to the English Minister would have great weight at this 
 juncture. Queen Victoria is interested in the maintenance 
 of the Papal throne. Her Catholic subjects are counted by 
 millions. The influence of his Holiness has been hitherto 
 exercised against the Fenians. France would interfere if 
 she was sure the step would not be disapproved by England.' 
 
 ' Interfere ! ' said the gentleman. ' Our return to Rome 
 almost before we have paid our laundresses' bills in the 
 Eternal City would be a diplomatic scandal.' 
 
 ' A diplomatic scandal would be preferable to a European 
 revolution.' 
 
 ' Suppose we were to have both ? ' and the gentleman 
 drew his chair near the fire. 
 
 ' I am convinced that a want of firmness now,' said Ber- 
 wick, ' would lead to inconceivable calamities for all of us.' 
 
 'Let us understand each other, my very dear friend 
 Berwick,' said his companion, and he threw his arm over 
 the back of his chair and looked the Roman full in his face. 
 ' You say you have been at Paris and elsewhere, and have 
 seen everybody and heard everything.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes.' 
 
 ' Something has happened to us also during the last 
 month, and as unexpectedly as to yourselves.' 
 
 ' The secret societies ? Yes, he spoke to me on that very 
 point, and fully. 'Tis strange, but is only, in my opinion, an 
 additional argument in favour of crushing the evil influence.' 
 
 ' Well, that he must decide. But the facts are startling. 
 A month ago the secret societies in France were only a 
 name ; they existed only in the memory of the police, and 
 almost as a tradition. At present we know that they are 
 in complete organisation, and what is most strange is, that 
 the prefects write they have information that the Mary- 
 
 T
 
 274 LOTHAIE. 
 
 Anne associations, which are essentially republican and are 
 scattered about the provinces, are all revived and are 
 astir. MART- ANNE, as you know, was the red name for the 
 Republic years ago, and there always was a sort of myth 
 that these societies had been founded by a woman. Of 
 course that is all nonsense, but they keep it up ; it affects 
 the public imagination, and my government has undoubted 
 evidence that the word of command has gone round to all 
 these societies that Mary- Anne has returned and will issue 
 her orders, which must be obeyed.' 
 
 ' The Church is stronger, and especially in the provinces, 
 than the Mary- Anne societies,' said Berwick. 
 . ' I hope so,' said his friend ; ' but you see, my dear Mon- 
 pignore, the question with us is not so simple as you put it. 
 The secret societies will not tolerate another Roman inter- 
 ference, to say nothing of the diplomatic hubbub, which 
 we might, if necessary, defy ; but what if, taking advantage 
 of the general indignation, your new kingdom of Italy may 
 seize the golden opportunity of making a popular reputation, 
 and declare herself the champion of national independence 
 against the interference of the foreigner ? My friend, we 
 tread on delicate ground.' 
 
 * If Rome falls, not an existing dynasty in Europe will 
 survive five years,' said Berwick. 
 
 ' It may be so,' said his companion, but with no expres- 
 sion of incredulity. 'You know how consistently and 
 anxiously I have always laboured to support the authority 
 of the Holy See, and to maintain its territorial position as 
 the guarantee of its independence ; but fate has decided 
 against us. I cannot indulge in the belief that his Holi- 
 ness will ever regain his lost provinces ; a capital without 
 a country is an apparent anomaly, which I fear will always 
 embarrass us. We can treat the possession as the capital of 
 Christendom, but, alas ! all the world are not as good 
 Christians as ourselves, and Christendom is a country no
 
 LOTIIAIR. 275 
 
 longer marked out in the map of the world. I wish,' 
 continued the gentleman in a tone almost coaxing, ' I wish 
 we could devise some plan which, humanly speaking, would 
 secure to his Holiness the possession of his earthly throne 
 for ever. I wish I could induce you to consider more 
 favourably that suggestion, that his Holiness should con- 
 tent himself with the ancient city, and, in possession of St. 
 Peter's and the Vatican, leave the rest of Rome to the 
 vulgar cares and the mundane anxieties of the transient 
 generation. Yes,' he added with energy, ' if, my dear 
 Berwick, you could see your way to this, or something like 
 this, I think, even now and at once, I could venture to 
 undertake that the Emperor, my master, would soon put an 
 end to all these disturbances and dangers, and that ' 
 
 'Non possumus,' said Berwick, sternly stopping him, 
 ' sooner than that Attila, the Constable of Bourbon, or the 
 blasphemous orgies of the Bed Republic ! After all, it is 
 the Church against the secret societies. They are the only 
 two strong things in Europe, and will survive kings, em- 
 perors, or parliaments.' 
 
 At this moment there was a tap at the door, and, bidden 
 to enter, Mr. Clifford presented himself with a sealed paper 
 for the gentleman in evening dress. ' Tour secretary, BIT, 
 brought this, which he said must be given you before you 
 went to the Ambassador.' 
 
 ' "Pis well,' said the gentlen-an, and he rose, and with a 
 countenance of some excitement read the paper, which con- 
 tained a telegram ; and then he said, ' This, I think, will 
 help us out of our immediate difficulties, my dear Monsig- 
 nore. Rattazzi has behaved like a man of sense, and has 
 arrested Garibaldi. But you do not seem, my friend, on 
 pleased as I should have anticipated.' 
 
 ' Garibaldi has been arrested before,' said Berwick 
 
 ' Well, well, I am hopeful ; but I must go to my dinner. 
 I will see you again to-morrow.'
 
 276 LOTHAIR. 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 THE continuous gathering of what, in popular language, 
 were styled the Garibaldi Volunteers, on the southern border 
 of the Papal territory in the autumn of 1867, was not the 
 only or perhaps the greatest danger which then threatened 
 the Holy See, though the one which most attracted its 
 alarmed attention. The considerable numbers in which this 
 assemblage was suddenly occurring ; the fact that the son of 
 the Liberator had already taken its command, and only as 
 the precursor of his formidable sire ; the accredited rumour 
 that Ghirelli at the head of a purely Roman legion was 
 daily expected to join the frontier force ; that Nicotera was 
 stirring in the old Neapolitan kingdom, while the Liberator 
 himself at Florence and in other parts of Tuscany was even 
 ostentatiously, certainly with impunity, preaching the new 
 crusade and using all his irresistible influence with the 
 populace to excite their sympathies and to stimulate their 
 energy, might well justify the extreme apprehension of the 
 court of Rome. And yet dangers at least equal, and almost 
 as close, were at the same time preparing unnoticed and un- 
 known. 
 
 In the mountainous range between Fiascone and Viterbo, 
 contiguous to the sea, is a valley surrounded by chains of 
 steep and barren hills, but which is watered by a torrent 
 scarcely dry even in summer ; so that the valley itself, which 
 is not inconsiderable in its breadth, is never without ver- 
 dure, while almost a forest of brushwood formed of shrubs, 
 which in England we snouid consider rare, bounds the 
 natural turf and ascends, sometimes to no inconsiderable 
 height, the nearest hills. 
 
 Into this valley, towards tlxa middle of September, there
 
 LOTHAIR. 277 
 
 defiled one afternoon, through a narrow pass, a bund of about 
 fifty men, all armed, and conducting a cavalcade or rather 
 a caravan of mules laden with munitions of war and other 
 stores. When they had gained the centre of the valley, and 
 a general halt was accomplished, their commander, accom- 
 panied by one who was apparently an officer, surveyed all 
 the points of the locality ; and when their companions had 
 rested and refreshed themselves, they gave the necessary 
 orders for the preparation of a camp. The turf already 
 afforded a sufficient area for their present wants, but it was 
 announced that on the morrow they must commence clear- 
 ing the brushwood. In the mean time one of the liveliest 
 scenes of military life soon rapidly developed itself: the 
 canvas houses were pitched, the sentries appointed, the 
 videttes established. The commissariat was limited to bread 
 and olives, and generally the running stream, varied some- 
 times by coffee and always consoled by tobacco. 
 
 On the third day, amidst their cheerful though by no 
 means light labours, a second caravan arrived, evidently 
 expected and heartily welcomed. Then in another eight- 
 and- forty hours, smaller bodies of men seemed to drop down 
 from the hills, generally without stores, but always armed. 
 Then men came from neighbouring islands in open boats, 
 and one morning a considerable detachment crossed the 
 water from Corsica. So that at the end of a week or ten 
 days there was an armed force of several hundred men in 
 this once silent valley, now a scene of constant stir and con- 
 tinual animation, for some one or something was always 
 arriving, and from every quarter ; men and arms and stores 
 crept in from every wild pass of the mountains and every 
 little rocky harbour of the coast. 
 
 About this time, while the officer in command was re- 
 viewing a considerable portion of the troops, the rest labour- 
 ing in still clearing the brushwood and establishing the 
 many works incidental to a camp, half a dozen horsemen
 
 278 LOTHAIR. 
 
 wore seen descending the mountain pass by which the 
 original body had entered the valley. A scout had preceded 
 them, and the troops with enthusiasm awaited the arrival of 
 that leader a message from whose magic name had sum- 
 moned them to this secluded rendezvous from many a dis- 
 tant state and city. Unruffled, but with an inspiring fire 
 in his pleased keen eye, that General answered their de- 
 voted salute whom hitherto we have known by his travel- 
 ling name of Captain Bruges. 
 
 It was only towards the end of the preceding month that 
 he had resolved to take the field ; but the organisation of 
 the secret societies is so complete that he knew he could 
 always almost instantly secure the assembling of a picked 
 force in a particular place. The telegraph circulated its 
 mystic messages to every part of Prance and Italy and 
 Belgium, and to some old friends not so conveniently at 
 hand, but who he doubted not would arrive in due time for 
 action. He himself had employed the interval in forward- 
 ing all necessary supplies, and he had passed through 
 Florence in order that ho might confer with the great 
 spirit of Italian movement and plan with him the impend- 
 ing campaign. 
 
 After he had passed in review the troops, the General, 
 with the officers of his staff" who had accompanied him, 
 risited on foot every part of the camp. Several of the men 
 he recognised by name ; to all of them he addressed some 
 inspiring word : a memory of combats in which they had 
 fought together, or happy allusions to adventures of roman- 
 tic peril ; some question which indicated that local know- 
 ledge which is magical for those who are away from 
 home ; mixed with all this, sharp, clear enquiries as to the 
 business of the hour, which proved the master of detail, 
 severe in discipline but never deficient in sympathy for his 
 troops. 
 
 After sunset, enveloped in their cloaks, the General and
 
 LOTHAIR. 279 
 
 his companions, the party increased by the officers who had 
 been in command previous to his arrival, smoked their 
 cigars round the camp fire. 
 
 ' Well, Sarano,' said the General, ' I will look over your 
 muster-roll to-morrow, but I should suppose I may count on 
 a thousand rifles or so. I want three, and we shall get 
 them. The great man would have supplied them me at 
 once, but I will not have boys. He must send those on to 
 Menotti. I told him, " I am not a man of genius ; I do not 
 pretend to conquer kingdoms with boys. Give me old sol- 
 diers, men who have served a couple of campaigns, and been 
 seasoned with four-and-twenty months of camp life, and I 
 will not disgrace you or myself." ' 
 
 1 We have had no news from the other place for a long 
 time,' said Sarano. ' How is it ? ' 
 
 ' Well enough. They are in the mountains about Nerola, 
 in a position not very unlike this ; numerically strong, for 
 Nicotera has joined them, and Ghirelli with the Roman 
 Legion is at hand. They must be quiet till the great man 
 joins them ; I am told they are restless. There has been too 
 mnch noise about the whole business. Had they been as 
 mum as you have been, we should not have had all these 
 representations from France and these threatened difficulties 
 from that quarter. The Papalini would have complained 
 and remonstrated, and Rattazzi could have conscientiously 
 assured the people at Paris that they were dealing with ex- 
 aggerations and bugbears ; the very existence of the frontier 
 force would have become a controversy, and while the news- 
 papers were proving it was a myth we should have been in 
 the Vatican.' 
 
 ' And when shall we be there, General ? ' 
 
 4 1 do not want to move for a month. By that time I 
 shall have two thousand five hundred or three thousand 
 of my old comrades, and the great man will have put his 
 boys in trim. Both bodies must leave their mountains at
 
 280 LOTHAIR 
 
 the same time, join in the open country and march to 
 Rome.' 
 
 As the night advanced, several of the party rose and left 
 the camp fire, some to their tents, some to their duties. 
 Two of the staff remained with the General. 
 
 1 1 am disappointed and uneasy that we have not heard 
 from Paris,' said one of them. 
 
 * I am disappointed,' said the General, 'but not uneasy, 
 she never makes a mistake.' 
 
 * The risk was too great,' rejoined the speaker in a de- 
 pressed tone. 
 
 'I do not see that,' said the General. 'What is the 
 risk ? Who could possibly suspect the lady's maid of 
 the Princess of Tivoli ! I am told that the Princess has 
 become quite a favourite at the Tuileries.' 
 
 ' They say that the police is not so well informed as it 
 used to be ; nevertheless, I confess I should be much happier 
 were she sitting round this camp fire.' 
 
 ' Courage ! ' said the General. ' I do not believe in many 
 things, but I do believe in the divine Theodora. What say 
 you, Captain Muriel ? I hope you are not offended by my 
 criticism of young soldiers. You are the youngest in our 
 band, but you have good military stuff in you, and will be 
 soon seasoned.' 
 
 ' I feel I serve under a master of the art,' replied Lothair, 
 * and will not take the gloomy view of Colonel Campian 
 about our best friend, though I share all his disappoint- 
 ment. It seems to me that detection is impossible. I am 
 sure that I could not have recognised her when I handed 
 the Princess into her carriage.' 
 
 ' The step was absolutely necessary,' said the General ; 
 4 no one could be trusted but herself, no other person has 
 the influence. All our danger is from France. The Italian 
 troops will never cross the frontier to attack ns, rest 
 assured of that. I have proof of it. And it is most difficult, 
 almost impossible, for the French to return. There never
 
 LOTHAIR. 281 
 
 would have been an idea of such a step, if there had been a 
 little more discretion at Florence, less of those manifestoes 
 and speeches from balconies. But we must not criticise 
 one who is above criticism. Without him we could do 
 nothing, and when he stamps his foot men rise from the 
 earth. I will go the rounds ; come with me, Captain 
 Mnriel. Colonel, I order you to your tent : you are a 
 veteran ; the only one among us, at least on the staff, who 
 was wounded at Aspromonte.' 
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 THE life of Lothair had been so strange and exciting since 
 he quitted Muriel Towers that he had found little time foi 
 that reflection in which he was once so prone to indulge. 
 Perhaps he shrank from it. If he wanted an easy distrac- 
 tion from self-criticism (it may be a convenient refuge from 
 the scruples, or even the pangs, of conscience), it was pro- 
 fusely supplied by the startling affairs of which he formed 
 a part, the singular characters with whom he was placed 
 in contact, the risk and responsibility which seemed sud- 
 denly to have encompassed him with their ever-stimulating 
 influence, and lastly, by the novelty of foreign travel, 
 which even under ordinary circumstances has a tendency 
 to rouse and stir up even ordinary men. 
 
 So long as Theodora was his companion in their councils 
 and he was listening to her deep plans and daring sugges- 
 tions, enforced by that calm enthusiasm which was not the 
 least powerful of her commanding spells, it is not perhaps 
 surprising that he should have yielded without an effort to 
 her bewitching ascendency. But when they had separated, 
 and she had embarked on that perilous enterprise of per- 
 sonally conferring with the chiefs of those secret societies 
 of France which had been fancifully baptised by her
 
 LOTHAIE. 
 
 popular name and had nurtured her tradition as a religious 
 faith, it might have been supposed that Lothair, left to 
 himself, might have recurred to the earlier sentiments of 
 his youth. But he was not left to himself. He was left 
 with her injunctions, and the spirit of the oracle, though the 
 divinity was no longer visible, pervaded his mind and life. 
 
 Lothair was to accompany the General as one of his 
 aides-de-camp, and he was to meet Theodora again on 
 what was contemplated as the field of memorable actions. 
 Theodora had wisely calculated on the influence, beneficial 
 in her view, which the character of a man like the General 
 would exercise over Lothair. This consummate military 
 leader, though he had pursued a daring career and was a 
 man of strong convictions, was distinguished by an almost 
 unerring judgment and a mastery of method rarely sur- 
 passed. Though he was without imagination or sentiment, 
 there were occasions on which he had shown he was not 
 deficient in a becoming sympathy, and he had a rapid and 
 correct perception of character. He was a thoroughly 
 honest man, and in the course of a life of great trial and 
 vicissitude even envenomed foes had never impeached his 
 pure integrity. For the rest, he was unselfish, but severe 
 in discipline, inflexible and even ruthless in the fulfilment 
 of his purpose. A certain simplicity of speech and conduct, 
 and a disinterestedness which even in little things was 
 constantly exhibiting itself, gave to his character even 
 charm, and rendered personal intercourse with him highly 
 agreeable. 
 
 In the countless arrangements which had to be made, 
 Lothair was never wearied in recognising and admiring the 
 prescience and precision of his chief; and when the day 
 had died, and for a moment they had ceased from their 
 labours, or were travelling together, often through the 
 night, Lothair found in the conversation of his companion, 
 artless and unrestrained, a wonderful fund of knowledge
 
 LOTHATB. 283 
 
 both of men and things, and that, too, In very different 
 climes and countries. 
 
 The camp in the Apennines was not favourable to useless 
 reverie. Lothair found unceasing and deeply interesting 
 occupation in his numerous and novel duties, and if his 
 thoughts for a moment wandered beyond the barren peaks 
 around him, they were attracted and engrossed by one sub- 
 ject, and that was, naturally, Theodora. From ber they 
 had heard nothing since her departure, except a mysterious 
 though not discouraging telegram which was given to 
 them by Colonel Campian when he had joined them at 
 Florence. It was difficult not to feel anxious about her, 
 though the General would never admit the possibility of 
 her personal danger. 
 
 In this state of affairs, a week having elapsed since his 
 arrival at the camp, Lothair, who had been visiting the 
 outposts, was summoned one morning by an orderly to the 
 tent of the General. That personage was on his legs when 
 Lothair entered it, and was dictating to an officer writing 
 at a table. 
 
 'You ought to know my military secretary,' said the 
 General as Lothair entered, ' and therefore I will introduce 
 you.' 
 
 Lothair was commencing a suitable reverence of recog- 
 nition as the secretary raised his head to receive it, when 
 lie suddenly stopped, changed colour, and for a moment 
 seemed to lose himself, and then murmured, ' Is it possible ? ' 
 
 It was indeed Theodora: clothed in male attire she 
 seemed a stripling. 
 
 ' Quite possible,' she said, ' and all is well. But I found 
 it a longer business than I had counted on. You see, there 
 are so many new persons who knew me only by tradition, 
 but with whom it was necessary I should personally confer. 
 And I had more difficulty, just now, in getting through 
 Florence than I had anticipated. The Papalini and the
 
 284 LOTHAIR. 
 
 French are both worrying our allies in that city about the 
 gathering on the southern frontier, and there is a sort of 
 examination, true or false I will not aver, of all who depart. 
 However, I managed to pass with some soldiers' wives who 
 were carrying fruit as far as Narni, and there I met an old 
 comrade of Aspromonte, who is a custom-officer now, but 
 true to the good cause, and he, and his daughter who is 
 with me, helped me through everything, and so I am with 
 my dear friends again.' 
 
 After some slight conversation in this vein Theodora 
 entered into a detailed narrative of her proceedings, and 
 gave to them her views of the condition of affairs. 
 
 ' By one thing, above all others,' she said, ' I am im- 
 pressed, and that is the unprecedented efforts which Rome 
 is making to obtain the return of the French. There never 
 was such influence exercised, such distinct offers made, 
 such prospects intimated. You may prepare yourself for 
 anything : a papal coronation, a family pontiff; I could 
 hardly say a king of Rome, though he has been reminded 
 of that royal fact. Our friends have acted with equal 
 energy and with perfect temper. The heads of the societies 
 have met in council, and resolved that if France will refuse 
 to interfere, no domestic disturbance shall be attempted 
 during this reign, and they have communicated this reso- 
 lution to head-quarters. He trusts them ; he knows they 
 are honest men. They did something like this before the 
 Italian war, when he hesitated about heading the army 
 from the fear of domestic revolution. Anxious to secure 
 the freedom of Italy, they apprised him that if he personally 
 entered the field they would undertake to ensure tranquil, 
 lity at homo. The engagement was scrupulously fulfilled. 
 When I left Paris all looked well, but affairs require the 
 utmost vigilance and courage. It is a mighty struggle ; 
 it is a struggle between the Church and the secret societies; 
 and it is a death struggle.'
 
 LOTHAER. 285 
 
 CHAPTER LITE. 
 
 DUBING the week that elapsed after the arrival of Theodora 
 at the camp, many recruits and considerable supplies of 
 military stores reached the valley. Theodora really acted 
 as secretary to the General, and her labours were not light. 
 Though Lothair was frequently in her presence, they were 
 never or rarely alone, and when they conversed together 
 her talk was of details. The scouts, too, had brought 
 information, which might have been expected, that their 
 rendezvous was no longer a secret at Rome. The garrison 
 of the neighbouring town of Viterbo had therefore been 
 increased, and there was even the commencement of an 
 m trenched camp in the vicinity of that place, to be garri- 
 soned by a detachment of the legion of Antibes and other 
 good troops, so that any junction between the General and 
 Garibaldi, if contemplated, should not be easily effected. 
 
 In the meantime, the life of the camp was busy. The 
 daily drill and exercise of two thousand men was not a 
 slight affair, and the constant changes in orders which the 
 arrival of bodies of recruits occasioned rendered this primary 
 duty more difficult; the office of quartermaster required 
 the utmost resource and temper ; the commissariat, which 
 from the nature of the country could depend little upon 
 forage, demanded extreme husbandry and forbearance. But 
 perhaps no labours were more severe than those of the 
 armourers, the clink of whose instruments resounded un- 
 ceasingly in the valley. And yet such is the magic of 
 method, when directed by a master mind, that the whole 
 went on with the regularity and precision of machinery. 
 More than two thousand armed men, all of whom had been 
 accustomed to an irregular, some to a lawless life, were aa
 
 286 LOTHAIK. 
 
 docile as children ; animated, in general, by what they 
 deemed a sacred cause, and led by a chief whom they 
 universally alike adored and feared. 
 
 Among these wild warriors, Theodora, delicate and 
 fragile, but with a mien of majesty, moved like the spirit 
 of some other world, and was viewed by them with admira- 
 tion not unmixed with awe. Veterans round the camp fire 
 had told to the new recruits her deeds of prowess and 
 devotion ; how triumphantly she had charged at Voltorno, 
 and how heroically she had borne their standard when 
 they were betrayed at fatal Aspromonte. 
 
 The sun had sunk behind the mountains, but was still 
 high in the western heaven, when a mounted lancer was 
 observed descending a distant pass into the valley. The 
 General and his staff had not long commenced their 
 principal meal of the day, of which the disappearance of 
 the sun behind the peak was the accustomed signal. This 
 permitted them, without inconvenience, to take their simpje 
 repast in the open, but still warm, air. Theodora was seated 
 between the General and her husband, and her eye was the 
 first that caught the figure of the distant but descending 
 stranger. 
 
 ' What is that ? ' she asked. 
 
 The General immediately using his telescope, after a 
 moment's examination, said : 
 
 ' A lancer of the Royal Guard.' 
 
 All eyes were now fixed upon the movements of the 
 horseman. He had descended the winding steep, and now 
 was tracking the craggy path which led into the plain. 
 As he reached the precinct of the camp he was challenged 
 but not detained. Nearer and nearer he approached, and 
 it was evident from his uniform that the conjecture of his 
 character by the General was correct. 
 
 ' A deserter from the Guard,' whispered Colonel Campion 
 to Lothair.
 
 LOTHATR. 287 
 
 The horseman was conducted by an officer to the presence 
 of the commander. When that presence was reached the 
 lancer, still silent, slowly lowered his tall weapon and 
 offered the General the despatch which was fastened to the 
 head of his spear. 
 
 Every eye was on the countenance of their chief as he 
 perused the missive, but that countenance was always 
 inscrutable. It was observed, however, that he read the 
 paper twice. Looking up, the General said to the officer : 
 * See tliat the bearer is well quartered. This is for yon,' he 
 added in a low voice to Theodora, and he gave her an 
 enclosure ; ' read it quietly, and then come into my tent.' 
 
 Theodora read the letter, and quietly ; though, without 
 the preparatory hint, it might have been difficult to have 
 concealed her emotion. Then, after a short pause, she 
 rose, and the General, requesting his companions not to 
 disturb themselves, joined her, and they proceeded in 
 silence to his tent. 
 
 4 He is arrested,' said the General when they had entered 
 it, * and taken to Alessandria, where he is a close prisoner. 
 'Tis a blow, but I am more grieved than surprised.' 
 
 This was the arrest of Garibaldi at Sinigaglia by the 
 Italian Government, which had been communicated at 
 Hexham House to Monsignore Berwick by his evening 
 visitor. 
 
 ' How will it affect operations in the field ? ' enquired 
 Theodora. 
 
 ' According to this despatch, in no degree. Our original 
 plan is to be pursued, and acted upon the moment we are 
 ready. That should be in a fortnight, or perhaps three 
 weeks. Menotti is to take the command on the southern 
 frontier. Well, it may prevent jealousies. I think I shall 
 send Sarano there to reconnoitre ; he is well both with 
 Nicotera and Ghirelli, and may keep things straight.' 
 
 'But there are other affairs besides operations in tho
 
 288 LOTHAIR. 
 
 field,' said Theodora, ' and scarcely less critical. Read 
 this,' and she gave him the enclosure, which ran in these 
 words : 
 
 ' The General will tell thee what has happened. Have 
 no fear for that. All will go right. It will not alter our 
 plans a bunch of grapes. Be perfectly easy about this 
 country. No Italian soldier will ever cross the frontier 
 except to combat the French. Write that on thy heart. 
 Are other things as well ? other places ? My advices are 
 bad. All the prelates are on their knees to him, with 
 blessings on their lips and curses in their pockets. Arch- 
 bishop of Paris is as bad as any. Berwick is at Biarritz, 
 an inexhaustible intriguer ; the only priest I fear. I hear 
 from one who never misled me that the Polhes brigade has 
 orders to be in readiness. The MARY -ANNE societies are 
 not strong enough for the situation ; too local : he listens 
 to them, but he has given no pledge. We must go deeper. 
 'Tis an affair of " MADEE NATURA." Thou must see 
 Colonna.' 
 
 ' Colonna is at Borne,' said the General, ' and cannot be 
 spared. He is acting President of the National Committee, 
 and has enough upon his hands.' 
 
 ' I must see him,' said Theodora. 
 
 ' I had hoped I had heard the last of the " Madre 
 Natura," ' said the General with an air of discontent. 
 
 ' And the Neapolitans hope they have heard the last of 
 the eruptions of their mountain,' said Theodora ; ' but the 
 necessities of things are sterner stuff than the hopes of 
 men.' 
 
 ' Its last effort appalled and outraged Europe,' said the 
 General. 
 
 'Its last effort forced the French into Italy, and has 
 freed the country from the Alps to the Adriatic,' rejoined 
 Theodora. 
 
 ' If the greai man had only been as quiet as we have
 
 LOTHAIE. 289 
 
 been,' said the General, lighting a cigar, ' we might have 
 been in Rome by this time.' 
 
 ' If the great man had been quiet, we should not have 
 had a volunteer in our valley,' said Theodora. ' My faith 
 in him is implicit ; he has been right in everything, and 
 has never failed except when he has been betrayed. I see 
 no hope for Rome except in his convictions and energy. I 
 do not wish to die and feel I have devoted my life only to 
 secure the triumph of Savoyards who have sold their own 
 country, and of priests whose impostures have degraded 
 mine.' 
 
 ' Ah ! those priests ! ' exclaimed the General. ' I really 
 do not much care for anything else. They say the Savoyard 
 is not a bad comrade, and at any rate he can charge like a 
 soldier. But those priests ! I fluttered them once ! Why 
 did I spare any ? Why did I not burn down St. Peter's ? 
 I proposed it, but Mirandola, with his history and his love 
 of art and all that old furniture, would reserve it for a 
 temple of the true God and for the glory of Europe ! Fino 
 results we have accomplished ! And now we are here, 
 hardly knowing where we are, and, as it appears, hardly 
 knowing what to do.' 
 
 ' Not so, dear General,' said Theodora. ' Where we are 
 is the threshold of Rome, and if we are wise we shall soon 
 cross it. This arrest of our great friend is a misfortune, 
 but not an irredeemable one. I thoroughly credit what he 
 says about the Italian troops. Rest assured he knows what 
 ho is talking about: they will never cross the frontier 
 against us. The danger is from another land. But there 
 will be no peril if we are prompt and firm. Clear your 
 mind of all these dark feelings about the MADRE NATURA. 
 AH that we require is that the most powerful and the most 
 secret association in Europe should ratify what the local 
 societies of Franco have already intimated. It will be 
 enough. Send for Colonna, and leave the rest to mo.' 
 
 U
 
 290 LOTHAIB. 
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 THE ' MADRE NATUEA ' is the oldest, the most powerful, and 
 the most occult of the secret societies of Italy. Its mythic 
 origin reaches the era of paganism, and it is not impossible 
 that it may have been founded by some of the despoiled 
 professors of the ancient faith. As time advanced, the 
 brotherhood assumed many outward forms, according to 
 the varying spirit of the age : sometimes they were free- 
 masons, sometimes they were soldiers, sometimes artists, 
 sometimes men of letters. But whether their external re- 
 presentation were a lodge, a commandery, a studio, or au 
 academy, their inward purpose was ever the same ; and 
 that was to cherish the memory, and, if possible, to secure 
 the restoration, of the Roman republic, and to expel from 
 the Aryan settlement of Romulus the creeds and sovereignty 
 of what they styled the Semitic invasion. 
 
 The ' MADRE NATURA ' have a tradition that one of the 
 most celebrated of the Popes was admitted to their frater- 
 nity as Cardinal dei Medici, and that when he ascended 
 the throne, mainly through their labours, he was called 
 upon to co-operate in the fulfilment of the great idea. An 
 individual who in his youth has been the member of a 
 secret society, and subsequently ascends a throne, may find 
 himself in an embarrassing position. This, however, ac- 
 cording to the tradition, which there is some documentary 
 ground to accredit, was not the perplexing lot of his Holi- 
 ness, Pope Leo X. His tastes and convictions were in 
 entire unison with his early engagements, and it is believed 
 that he took an early and no unwilling opportunity of sub- 
 mitting to the conclave a proposition to consider whether 
 it was not both expedient and practicable to return to the
 
 LOTHAIK. 291 
 
 ancient faith, for which their temples had been originally 
 erected. 
 
 The chief tenet of the society of ' MADEE NATURA ' is 
 denoted by its name. They could conceive nothing more 
 benignant and more beautiful, more provident and more 
 powerful, more essentially divine, than that system of 
 creative order to which they owed their being, and in 
 which it was their privilege to exist. But they differed 
 from other schools of philosophy that have held this faith 
 in this singular particular : they recognised the inability 
 of the Latin race to pursue the worship of nature in an 
 abstract spirit, and they desired to revive those exquisite 
 personifications of the abounding qualities of the mighty 
 mother which the Aryan genius had bequeathed to the 
 admiration of man. Parthenope was again to rule at 
 Naples instead of Januarius, and starveling saints and 
 winking madonnas were to restore their usurped altars to 
 the god of the silver bow and the radiant daughter of the 
 foaming wave. 
 
 Although the society of ' MADRE NATURA ' themselves 
 accepted the allegorical interpretation which the Neo- 
 Platonists had placed upon the Pagan creeds during the 
 first ages of Christianity, they could not suppose that the 
 populace could ever comprehend an exposition so refined, 
 not to say so fanciful. They guarded, therefore, against 
 the corruptions and abuses of the religion of nature by the 
 entire abolition of the priestly order, and in the principle 
 that every man should be his own priest they believed they 
 had found the necessary security. 
 
 As it was evident that the arrest of Garibaldi could not 
 bo kept secret, the General thought it most prudent to 
 be himself the herald of its occurrence, which he announced 
 to the troops in a manner as little discouraging as he could 
 devise. It was difficult to extenuate the consequences of BO 
 great a blow, but they were assured that it was not a 
 
 v 8
 
 2'. '2 LOTHAIE. 
 
 catastrophe, and would not in the slightest degree affect 
 tlie execution of the plans previously resolved on. Two or 
 three days later some increase of confidence was occasioned 
 by the authentic intelligence that Garibaldi had been re- 
 moved from his stern imprisonment at Alessandria, and 
 conveyed to his island-home, Caprera, though still a pri- 
 soner. 
 
 About this time, the General said to Lothair, ' My 
 secretary has occasion to go on an expedition. I shall 
 send a small detachment of cavalry with her, and you will 
 be at its head. She has requested that her husband should 
 have this office, but that is impossible ; I cannot spare my 
 best officer. It is your first command, and though I hope 
 it will involve no great difficulty, there is no command 
 that does not require courage and discretion. The dis- 
 tance is not very great, and so long as you are in the 
 mountains you will probably be safe ; but in leaving this 
 range and gaining the southern Apennines, which is your 
 point of arrival, you will have to cross the open country. 
 I do not hear the Papalini are in force there ; I believe 
 they have concentrated themselves at Borne, and about 
 Viterbo. If you meet any scouts and reconnoitring parties, 
 you will be able to give a good account of them, and 
 probably they will be as little anxious to encounter you as 
 you to meet them. But we must be prepared for every- 
 thing, and you may be threatened by the enemy in force ; 
 in that case you will cross the Italian frontier, in the 
 immediate neighbourhood of which you will keep during 
 the passage of the open country, and surrender yourselves 
 and your arms to the authorities. They will not be very 
 severe ; but at whatever cost and whatever may be the 
 odds, Theodora must never be a prisoner to the Papalini. 
 Tou will depart to-morrow at dawn.' 
 
 There is nothing so animating, so invigorating alike to 
 body and soul, so truly delicious, aa travelling among
 
 LOTKAIR. 293 
 
 mountains in the early hours of the day. The freshness 
 of nature falls upon a responsive frame, and the nobility of 
 the scene discards the petty thoughts that pester ordinary 
 life. So felt Captain Muriel, as with every military pre- 
 caution he conducted his little troop and his precious 
 charge among the winding passes of the Apennines ; at 
 first dim in the matin twilight, then soft with incipient 
 day, then coruscating with golden flashes. Sometimes 
 they descended from the austere heights into the sylvan 
 intricacies of chesnut forests, amid the rush of waters and 
 the fragrant stir of ancient trees ; and then again ascend- 
 ing to lofty summits, ranges of interminable hills, grey or 
 green, expanded before them, with ever and anon a glimpse 
 of plains, and sometimes the splendour and the odour of 
 the sea. 
 
 Theodora rode a mule, which had been presented to the 
 General by some admirer. It was an animal of remarkable 
 beauty and intelligence, perfectly aware, apparently, of the 
 importance of its present trust, and proud of its rich 
 accoutrements, its padded saddle of crimson velvet, and its 
 silver bells. A couple of troopers formed the advanced 
 guard, and the same number at a certain distance fur- 
 nished the rear. The body of the detachment, fifteen 
 strong, with the sumpter mules, generally followed Theo- 
 dora, by whose side, whenever the way permitted, rode 
 their commander. Since he left England Lothair had 
 never been so much alone with Theodora. What struck 
 him most now, as indeed previously at the camp, was that 
 she never alluded to the past. For her there would seem 
 to be no Muriel Towers, no Belmont, no England. You 
 would have supposed that she had been born in the 
 Apennines and had never quitted them. All her conversa- 
 tion was details, political or military. Not that her manner 
 was changed to Lothair. It was not only as kind as 
 before but it was sometimes unusually and even unneces-
 
 294 LOTHAIB. 
 
 sarily tender, as if she reproached herself for the too 
 frequent and too evident self-engrossment of her thoughts, 
 and wished to intimate to him that though her brain were 
 absorbed, her heart was still gentle and true. 
 
 Two hours after noon they halted in a green nook, near 
 a beautiful cascade that descended in a mist down a sylvan 
 cleft, and poured its pellucid stream, for their delightful 
 use, into a natural basin of marble. The men picketed 
 their horses, and their corporal, who was a man of the 
 country and their guide, distributed their rations. All 
 vied with each other in administering to the comfort and 
 convenience of Theodora, and Lothair hovered about her as 
 a bee about a flower ; but she was silent, which he wished 
 to impute to fatigue. But she said she was not at all 
 fatigued, indeed quite fresh. Before they resumed their 
 journey he could not refrain from observing on the beauty 
 of their resting-place. She assented with a pleasing nod, 
 and then resuming her accustomed abstraction she said : 
 'The more I think, the more I am convinced that the 
 battle is not to be fought in this country, but in France.' 
 
 After one inore ascent, and that comparatively a gentle 
 one, it was evident that they were gradually emerging 
 from the mountainous region. Their course since their 
 halting lay through a spur of the chief chain they had 
 hitherto pursued, and a little after sunset they arrived at a 
 farm-house, which the corporal informed his Captain was 
 the intended quarter of Theodora for the night, as the 
 horses could proceed no farther without rest. At dawn 
 they were to resume their way, and soon to cross the 
 open country, where danger, if any, was to be anticipated. 
 
 The farmer was frightened when he was summoned from 
 his house by a party of armed men ; but having some good 
 ducats given him in advance, and being assured they were 
 all Christians, he took heart and laboured to do what they 
 desired. Theodora duly found herself in becoming quar-
 
 LOTH AIR. 295 
 
 ters, and a sentry was monnted at her residence. The 
 troopers, who had been quite content to wrap themselves 
 in their cloaks and pass the night in the air, were pleased 
 to find no despicable accommodation in the out-buildings 
 of the farm, and still more with the proffered vintage of 
 their host. As for Lothair, he enveloped himself in his 
 mantle and threw himself on a bed of sacks, with a truss 
 of Indian corn for his pillow, and though he began by 
 musing over Theodora, in a few minutes he was immersed 
 in that profound and dreamless sleep which a life of action 
 and mountain air combined can alone secure. 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 THE open country extending from the Apennines to the 
 very gates of Rome, and which they had now to cross, was 
 in general a desert ; a plain clothed with a coarse vegeta- 
 tion, and undulating with an interminable series of low 
 and uncouth mounds, without any of the grace of form 
 which always attends the disposition of nature. Nature 
 had not created them. They were the offspring of man 
 and time, and of their rival powers of destruction. Ages 
 of civilisation were engulfed in this drear expanse. They 
 were the tombs of empires and the sepulchres of contending 
 races. The Campagna proper has at least the grace of 
 aqueducts to break its monotony, and everywhere the 
 cerulean spell of distance ; but in this grim solitude anti- 
 quity has left only the memory of its violence and crimes, 
 and nothing is beautiful except the sky. 
 
 The orders of the General to direct their course as much 
 as possible in the vicinity of the Italian frontier, though it 
 lengthened their journey, somewhat mitigated its dreari- 
 ness, and an hour after noon, after traversing some flinty
 
 296 LOTHAIK. 
 
 fields, they observed in the distance an olive wood, be- 
 neath the pale shade of which, and among whose twisted 
 branches and contorted roots, they had contemplated find- 
 ing a halting-place. But here the advanced guard observed 
 already an encampment, and one of them rode back to 
 report the discovery. 
 
 A needless alarm ; for after a due reconnaissance, they 
 were ascertained to be friends, a band of patriots about to 
 join the General in his encampment among the mountains. 
 They reported that a division of the Italian army was 
 assembled in force upon the frontier, but that several 
 regiments had already signified to their commanders that 
 they would not fight against Garibaldi or his friends. 
 They confirmed also the news that the great leader himself 
 was a prisoner at Caprera ; that although his son Menotti 
 by his command had withdrawn from Nerola, his force was 
 really increased by the junction of Ghirelli and the Roman 
 legion, twelve hundred strong, and that five hundred rifle- 
 men would join the General in the course of the week. 
 
 A little before sunset they had completed the passage of 
 the open country, and had entered the opposite branch of 
 the Apennines, which they had long observed in the 
 distance. After wandering among some rocky ground, 
 they entered a defile amid hills covered with ilex, and 
 thence emerging found themselves in a valley of some 
 expanse and considerable cultivation ; bright crops, vine- 
 yards in which the vine was married to the elm, orchards 
 full of fruit, and groves of olive ; in the distance blue hills 
 that were becoming dark in the twilight, and in the centre 
 of the plain, upon a gentle and wooded elevation, a vast 
 pile of building, the exact character of which at this hour 
 it was difficult to recognise, for even as Theodora men- 
 tioned to Lothair that they now beheld the object of their 
 journey, the twilight seemed to vanish and the stars glis- 
 tened in the dark heavens.
 
 LOTHAIE. 297 
 
 Though the building seemed so near, it was yet a con- 
 siderable time before they reached the wooded hill, and 
 though its ascent was easy, it was night before they halted 
 in face of a huge gate flanked by high stone walls. A 
 single light in one of the windows of the vast pile which it 
 enclosed was the only evidence of human habitation. 
 
 The corporal sounded a bugle, and immediately the light 
 moved and noises were heard ; the opening of the hall 
 doors, and then the sudden flame of torches, and the 
 advent of many feet. The great gate slowly opened, and a 
 steward and several serving men appeared. The steward 
 addressed Theodora and Lothair, and invited them to 
 dismount and enter what now appeared to be a garden 
 with statues and terraces and fountains and rows of 
 cypress, its infinite dilapidation not being recognisable in 
 the deceptive hour ; and he informed the escort that their 
 quarters were prepared for them, to which they were at 
 once attended. Guiding their Captain and his charge, 
 they soon approached a double flight of steps, and ascend- 
 ing, reached the main terrace from which the building 
 immediately rose. It was, in truth, a castle of the middle 
 ages, on which a Roman prince, at the commencement of 
 the last century, had engrafted the character of one of 
 those vast and ornate villas then the mode, but its original 
 character still asserted itself, and notwithstanding its Tus- 
 can basement and its Ionic pilasters, its rich pediments 
 and delicate volutes, in the distant landscape it still 
 seemed a fortress in the commanding position which 
 became the residence of a feudal chief. 
 
 They entered through a Palladian vestibule a hall which 
 they felt must be of huge dimensions, though with the aid 
 of a single torch it was impossible to trace its limits, either 
 of extent or of elevation. Then bowing before them, and 
 lighting as it were their immediate steps, the steward 
 guided them down a long and lofty corridor, which led to
 
 298 LOTliAIR. 
 
 the entrance of several chambers, all vast, with little furni- 
 ture, but their walls covered with pictures, At length he 
 opened a door and ushered them into a saloon, which was 
 in itself bright and glowing, but of which the lively air 
 was heightened by its contrast with the preceding scene. 
 It was lofty, and hung with faded satin in gilded panels 
 still bright. An ancient chandelier of Venetian crystal 
 hung illumined from the painted ceiling, and on the silver 
 dogs of the marble hearth a fresh block of cedar had just 
 been thrown and blazed with aromatic light. 
 
 A lady came forward and embraced Theodora, and then 
 greeted Lothair with cordiality. ' We must dine to-day 
 even later than you do in London,' said the Princess of 
 Tivoli, ' but we have been expecting you these two hours.' 
 Then she drew Theodora aside, and said, ' He is here ; but 
 you must be tired, my best beloved. As some wise man 
 said : " Business to-morrow." ' 
 
 ' No, no,' said Theodora ; ' now, now : I am never tired. 
 The only thing that exhausts me is suspense.' 
 
 ' It shall be so. At present I will take you away to 
 shake the dust off your armour; and Serafino attend to 
 Captain Muriel.' 
 
 CHAPTER LVL 
 
 WHEN they assembled again in the saloon there was an 
 addition to their party in the person of a gentleman of 
 distinguished appearance. His age could hardly have 
 much exceeded that of thirty, but time had agitated his 
 truly Roman countenance, one which we now find only in 
 consular and imperial busts, or in the chance visage of a 
 Roman shepherd or a Neapolitan bandit. He was a shade 
 above the middle height, with a frame of well-knit sym-
 
 LOTHAIR. 299 
 
 metry. His proud head was proudly placed on broad 
 shoulders, and neither time nor indulgence had marred his 
 slender waist. His dark brown hair was short and hya- 
 cinthine, close to his white forehead, and naturally showing 
 his small ears. He wore no whiskers, and his moustache 
 was limited to the centre of his upper lip. 
 
 When Theodora entered and offered him her hand he 
 pressed it to his lips with gravity and proud homage, and 
 then their hostess said, ' Captain Muriel, let me present you 
 to a Prince who will not bear his titles, and whom, there- 
 fore, I must call by his name Romolo Colonna.' 
 
 The large folding doors, richly painted and gilt, though 
 dim from neglect and time, and sustained by columns of 
 precious marbles, were suddenly opened and revealed 
 another saloon, in which was a round table brightly lighted, 
 and to which the Princess invited her friends. 
 
 Their conversation at dinner was lively and sustained ; 
 the travels of the last two days formed a natural part, and 
 were apposite to commence with, but they were soon en- 
 grossed in the great subject of their lives; and Colonna, 
 who had left Rome only four-and-twenty hours, gave them 
 interesting details of the critical condition of that capital. 
 When the repast was concluded the Princess rose, and, 
 accompanied by Lothair, re-entered the saloon, but Theo- 
 dora and Colonna lingered behind, and finally seating 
 themselves at the farthest end of the apartment in which 
 they had dined, became engaged in earnest conversation. 
 
 ' You have seen a great deal since we first met at Bel- 
 mont,' said the Princess to Lothair. 
 
 ' It seems to me now,' said Lothair, ' that I knew as much 
 of life then as I did of the stars above us, about whose 
 purposes and fortunes I used to puzzle myself.' 
 
 ' And might have remained in that ignorance. The great 
 majority of men exist but do not live, like Italy in the last 
 century. The power of the passions, the force of the will,
 
 300 LOTHAES. 
 
 the creative energy of the imagination, these make life, and 
 reveal to us a world of which the million are entirely 
 ignorant. You have been fortunate in your youth to havo 
 become acquainted with a great woman. It developes all a 
 man's powers, and gives him a thousand talents.' 
 
 ' I often think,' said Lothair, ' that I have neither powers 
 nor talents, but am drifting without an orbit.' 
 
 ' Into infinite space,' said the Princess. ' Well, one might 
 do worse than that. But it is not so. In the long run 
 your nature will prevail, and you will fulfil your organic 
 purpose ; but you will accomplish your ends with a com- 
 pleteness which can only be secured by the culture and 
 development you are now experiencing.' 
 
 ' And what is my nature ? ' said Lothair. ' I wish you 
 would tell me.' 
 
 ' Has not. the divine Theodora told you ? ' 
 
 ' She has told me many things, but not that.' 
 
 ' How then could I know,' said the Princess, ' if she has 
 not discovered it ? ' 
 
 'But perhaps she has discovered it,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Oh ! then she would tell you,' said the Princess, ' for she 
 is the soul of truth.' 
 
 ' But she is also the soul of kindness, and she might wish 
 to spare my feelings.' 
 
 ' Well, that is very modest, and I dare say not affected. 
 For there is no man, however gifted, even however con- 
 ceited, who has any real confidence in himself until he has 
 acted.' 
 
 ' Well, we shall soon act,' said Lothair, ' and then I 
 suppose I shall know my nature.' 
 
 ' In time,' said the Princess, ' and with the continued 
 inspiration of friendship.' 
 
 ' But you too are a great friend of Theodora ? ' 
 
 ' Although a woman. I see you are laughing at female 
 friendships, and, generally speaking, there is foundation
 
 LOTHA1E. 301 
 
 for the general sneer. I will own, for my part, I have 
 every female weakness, and in excess. I am vain, I am 
 curious, I am jealous, and I am envious ; but I adore 
 Theodora. I reconcile my feelings towards her and my 
 disposition in this way. It is not friendship, it is worship. 
 And indeed there are moments when I sometimes think 
 she is one of those beautiful divinities that we once wor- 
 shipped in this land, and who, when they listened to our 
 prayers, at least vouchsafed that our country should not be 
 the terrible wilderness that you crossed this day.' 
 
 In the meantime Colonna, with folded arms and eyes 
 fixed on the ground, was listening to Theodora. 
 
 4 Thus you see,' she continued, ' it comes to this : Borne 
 can only be freed by the Romans. He looks upon the 
 secret societies of his own country as he does upon universal 
 suffrage : a wild beast, and dangerous, but which may be 
 watched and tamed and managed by the police. He listens, 
 but he plays with them. He temporises. At the bottom 
 of his heart, his Italian blood despises the Gauls. It must 
 be something deeper and more touching than this. Rome 
 must appeal to him, and in the ineffable name.' 
 
 ' It has been uttered before,' said Colonna, looking up at 
 his companion, ' and ' And he hesitated. 
 
 ' And in vain you would say,' said Theodora. ' Not so. 
 There was a martyrdom, but the blood of Felice baptised 
 the new birth of Italian life. But I am not thinking of 
 bloodshed. Had it not been for the double intrigues of 
 the Savoyards it need not then have been shed. We bear 
 him no ill will, at least not now, and we can make 
 great offers. Make them. The revolution in Gaul is ever 
 a mimicry of Italian thought and life. Their great affair of 
 the last century, which they have so marred and muddled, 
 would never have occurred had it not been for Tuscan 
 reform ; 1848 was the echo of our societies ; and the Seine 
 will never be disturbed if the Tiber flows unruffled. Let
 
 302 LOTHAIE. 
 
 him consent to Roman freedom, and MADRE NATURA will 
 guarantee him against Lutetian barricades.' 
 
 ' It is only the offer of Mary- Anne in another form,' said 
 Colonna. 
 
 ' Guarantee the dynasty,' said Theodora. ' There is the 
 point. He can trust us. Emperors and kings break treaties 
 without remorse, but he knows that what is registered by 
 the most ancient power in the world is sacred.' 
 
 ' Can republicans guarantee dynasties ? ' said Colonna, 
 shaking his head. 
 
 'Why what is a dynasty, when we are dealing with 
 eternal things ? The casualties of life compared with infi- 
 nite space. Rome is eternal. Centuries of the most de- 
 grading and foreign priestcraft, enervating rites brought 
 in by Heliogabalus and the Syrian emperors, have failed to 
 destroy her. Dynasties ! Why, even in our dark servitude 
 we have seen Merovingian and Carlovingian kings, and 
 Capets and Valois and Bourbons and now Buonapartes. 
 They have disappeared, and will disappear like Orgetorix 
 and the dynasties of the time of Csesar. What we want is 
 Rome free. Do not you see that everything has been pre- 
 paring for that event ? This monstrous masquerade of 
 United Italy, what is it but an initiatory ceremony to prove 
 that Italy without Rome is a series of provinces ? Esta- 
 blish the Roman republic, and the Roman race will, as 
 before, conquer them in detail. And when the Italians 
 are thus really united, what will become of the Gauls ? 
 VVTiy, the first Buonaparte said that if Italy were really 
 united the Gauls would have no chance. And he was a 
 good judge of such things.' 
 
 ' What would you have me do then ? ' said Colonna. 
 
 ' See him, see Tivm at once. Say everything that I have 
 eaid, and say it better. His disposition is with us. Con- 
 venience, all political propriety, counsel and would justify 
 bis abstinence. A return to Rome would seem weak, fit-
 
 LOTHAIR. 303 
 
 fill, capricious, and would prove that his previous retire- 
 ment was ill-considered and ill-informed. It would disturb 
 and alarm Europe. But you have, nevertheless, to fight 
 against great odds. It is MADEE NATURA against ST. 
 PETER'S. Never was the abomination of the world so 
 active as at present. It is in the very throes of its, fell 
 despair. To save itself, it would poison in the Eucharist.' 
 
 ' And if I fail ?' said Colonna. 
 
 'You will not fail. On the whole his interest lies on 
 our side.' 
 
 ' The sacerdotal influences are very strong there. When 
 the calculation of interest is fine, a word, a glance, some- 
 times a sigh, a tear, may have a fatal effect.' 
 
 ' All depends upon him,' said Theodora. ' If he were to 
 disappear from the stage, interference would be impossible.' 
 
 ' But he is on the stage, and apparently will remain.' 
 
 * A single life should not stand between Borne and free- 
 dom.' 
 
 ' "What do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' I mean that Bomolo Colonna should go to Paris and 
 free his country.' 
 
 CHAPTER LVII. 
 
 WHEN Captain Muriel and his detachment returned to the 
 camp, they found that the force had been not inconsiderably 
 increased in their absence, while the tidings of the disposi- 
 tion of the Italian army, brought by the recruits and the 
 deserters from the royal standard, cherished the hopes of 
 the troops, and stimulated their desire for action. Theodora 
 had been far more communicative during their journey 
 back than in that of her departure. She was less absorbed, 
 and had resumed that serene yet ever sympathising cha- 
 racter which was one of her charms. Without going iuto
 
 304 LOTHAIE. 
 
 detail, she mentioned more than once to Lothair how re- 
 lieved she felt by Colonna accepting the mission to Paris. 
 He was a person of so much influence, she said, and of such 
 great judgment and resource. She augured the most satis- 
 factory results from his presence on the main scene of 
 action. 
 
 Time passed rapidly at the camp. When a life of con- 
 stant activity is combined with routine, the hours fly. 
 Neither letter nor telegram arrived from Colonna, and 
 neither was expected ; and yet Theodora heard from him, 
 and even favourably. One day, as she was going the rounds 
 with her husband, a young soldier, a new recruit, ap- 
 proached her, and pressing to his lips a branch of the olive 
 tree, presented it to her. On another occasion when she 
 returned to her tent, she found a bunch of fruit from the 
 same tree, though not quite ripe, which showed that the 
 cause of peace had not only progressed but had almost ma- 
 tured. All these communications sustained her sanguine 
 disposition, and full of happy confidence she laboured with 
 unceasing and inspiring energy, so that when the looked- 
 for signal came they might be prepared to obey it, and 
 rapidly gather the rich fruition of their glorious hopes. 
 
 While she was in this mood of mind a scout arrived from 
 Nerola, bringing news that a brigade of the French army 
 had positively embarked at Marseilles, and might be hourly 
 expected at Civita Vecchia. The news was absolute. The 
 Italian Consul at Marseilles had telegraphed to his govern- 
 ment both when the first regiment was on board, and when 
 the last had embarked. Copies of these telegrams had been 
 forwarded instantly by a secret friend to the volunteers on 
 the southern frontier. 
 
 When Theodora heard this news she said nothing, but, 
 turning pale, she quitted the group round the General and 
 hastened to her own tent. She told her attendant, the 
 daughter of the custom-house officer at Narni, and a trua
 
 LQTHAfli. 305 
 
 child of the mountains, that no one must approach her, not 
 even Colonel Campian, and the girl sate without the tent at 
 its entrance, dressed in her many-coloured garments, with 
 fiery eyes and square white teeth, and her dark hair braided 
 with gold coins and covered with a long white kerchief of 
 perfect cleanh'ness ; and she had a poniard at her side and 
 a revolver in her hand, and she would have used both wea- 
 pons sooner than that her mistress should be disobeyed. 
 
 Alone in her tent, Theodora fell upon her knees, and 
 lifting up her hands to heaven and bowing her head to the 
 earth, she said : ' God ! whom I have ever worshipped, 
 God of justice and of truth, receive the agony of my soul ! 
 
 And on the earth she remained for hours in despair. 
 
 Night came and it brought no solace, and the day re- 
 turned, but to her it brought no light. Theodora was no 
 longer seen. The soul of the camp seemed extinct. The 
 mien of majesty that ennobled all ; the winning smile that 
 rewarded the rifleman at his practice and the sapper at his 
 toil ; the inciting word that reanimated the recruit and re- 
 called to the veteran the glories of Sicilian struggles : all 
 vanished, all seemed spiritless and dull, and the armourer 
 clinked his forge as if he were the heartless hireling of a 
 king. 
 
 In this state of moral discomfiture there was one person 
 who did not lose his head, and this was the General. Calm, 
 collected, and critical, he surveyed the situation and indi- 
 cated the possible contingencies. ' Our best, if not our 
 only, chance,' he said to Colonel Campian, ' is this : that 
 the Italian army now gathered in force upon the frontier 
 should march to Rome and arrive there before the French. 
 Whatever then happens, we shall at least get rid of the 
 great imposture, but in all probability the French and 
 Italians will fight. In that case I shall join the Savoyards, 
 and in the confusion we may do some business yet.' 
 
 ' This embarkation,' said the Colonel, ' explains the era*- 
 x
 
 306 LOTHAIR. 
 
 thering of the Italians on the frontier. They must have 
 foreseen this event at Florence. They never can submit to 
 another French occupation. It would upset their throne. 
 The question is, who will be at Rome first.' 
 
 * Just so,' said the General ; ' and as it is an affair upon 
 which all depends, and is entirely beyond my control, I 
 think I shall now take a nap.' So saying he turned into 
 his tent, and, in five minutes, this brave and exact man, but 
 in whom the muscular development far exceeded the ner- 
 vous, was slumbering without a dream. 
 
 Civita Vecchia was so near at hand, and the scouts of the 
 General were so numerous and able, that he soon learnt 
 the French had not yet arrived, and another day elapsed 
 and still no news of the French. But, on the afternoon 
 of the following day, the startling but authentic informa- 
 tion arrived, that, after the French army having embarked 
 and remained two days in port, the original orders had 
 been countermanded, and the troops had absolutely dis- 
 embarked. 
 
 There was a cheer in the camp when the news was 
 known, and Theodora started from her desolation, surprised 
 that there could be in such a scene a sound of triumph. 
 Then there was another cheer, and though she did not 
 move, but remained listening and leaning on her arm, the 
 light returned to her eyes. The cheer was repeated, and 
 there were steps about her tent. She caught the voice of 
 Lothair speaking to her attendant, and adjuring her to tell 
 her mistress immediately that there was good news, and 
 that the French troops had disembarked. Then she heard 
 her husband calling Theodora. 
 
 The camp became a scene of excitement and festivity 
 which, in general, only succeeds some signal triumph. 
 The troops hived always in the air, except in the hours of 
 night, when the atmosphere of the mountains in the late 
 autumn is dangerous. At present they formed groups and
 
 LOTHAIK. 307 
 
 parties in the vicinity of the tents ; there was their gay 
 canteen and there their humorous kitchen. The man of 
 the Gulf with his rich Venetian banter and the Sicilian 
 with his scaramouch tricks got on very well with the 
 gentle and polished Tuscan, and could amuse without 
 offending the high Roman soul ; but there were some quips 
 and cranks and sometimes some antics which were not 
 always relished by the simpler men from the islands, 
 and the offended eye of a Corsican sometimes seemed to 
 threaten ' vendetta.' 
 
 About sunset, Colonel Campian led forth Theodora. 
 She was in female attire, and her long hair restrained 
 only by a fillet reached nearly to the ground. Her Olym- 
 pian brow seemed distended ; a phosphoric light glittered 
 in her Hellenic eyes ; a deep pink spot burnt upon each of 
 those cheeks usually so immaculately fair. 
 
 The General and the chief ^fficers gathered round her 
 with their congratulations, but she would visit all the 
 quarters. She spoke to the men in all the dialects of 
 that land of many languages. The men of the Gulf, in 
 general of gigantic stature, dropped their merry Venetian 
 stories and fell down on their knees and kissed the hem of 
 her garment ; the Scaramouch forgot his tricks, and wept 
 as he would to the Madonna; Tuscany and Rome made 
 speeches worthy of the Arno and the Forum ; and the 
 Corsicans and the islanders unsheathed their poniards and 
 brandished them in the air, which is their mode of de- 
 noting affectionate devotion. As the night advanced, the 
 crescent moon glittering above the Apennine, Theodora 
 attended by the whole staff, having visited all the troops, 
 stopped at the chief fire of the camp, and in a voice which 
 might have maddened nations sang the hymn of Roman 
 liberty, the whole army ranged in ranks along the valley 
 joining in the solemn and triumphant chorus.
 
 308 LOTHAIB. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 THIS exaltation of feeling in the camp did not evaporate. 
 All felt that they were on the eve of some great event, and 
 that the hour was at hand. And it was in this state of 
 enthusiasm, that couriers arrived with the intelligence that 
 Garibaldi had escaped from Caprera, that he had reached 
 Nerola in safety, and was in command of the assembled 
 forces; and that the General was, without loss of time, to 
 strike his camp, join the main body at a given place, and 
 then march to Rome. 
 
 The breaking-up of the camp was as the breaking-up of 
 a long frost and the first scent of spring. There was 
 brightness in every man's face and a gay elasticity in all 
 their movements. But when the order of the day informed 
 them that they must prepare for instant combat, and that 
 in eight and forty hours they would probably be in face of 
 the enemy, the hearts of the young recruits fluttered with 
 strange excitement, and the veterans nodded to each other 
 with grim delight. 
 
 It was nearly midnight when the troops quitted the 
 valley through a defile in an opposite direction to the pass 
 by which they had entered it. It was a bright night. 
 Colonel Campian had the command of the division in 
 advance, which was five hundred strong. After the defile, 
 the country though hilly was comparatively open, and here 
 the advanced guard was to halt until the artillery and 
 cavalry had effected the passage, and this was the most 
 laborious and difficult portion of the march ; but all was 
 well considered, and all went right. The artillery and 
 oavalry by sunrise had joined the advanced guard who 
 were bivouacking in the rocky plain, and about noon the
 
 LOTHAIR. 309 
 
 main columns of the infantry began to deploy from the 
 heights, and in a short time the whole force was in the 
 field. Soon after this some of the skirmishers who had 
 been sent forward returned, and reported the enemy in 
 force and in a strong position, commanding the intended 
 route of the invading force. On this the General resolved 
 to halt for a few hours, and rest and refresh the troops, 
 and to recommence their march after sunset, so that, with- 
 out effort, they might be in the presence of the enemy by 
 dawn. 
 
 Lothair had been separated from Theodora during this 
 to him novel and exciting scene. She had accompanied 
 her husband, but when the whole force advanced in battle 
 array, the General had desired that she should accompany 
 the staff. They advanced through the night, and by dawn 
 they were fairly in the open country. In the distance, and 
 in the middle of the rough and undulating plain, was a 
 round hill with an ancient city, for it was a bishop's see, 
 built all about and over it. It would have looked like a 
 gigantic beehive, had it not been for a long convent on the 
 summit, flanked by some stone pines, as we see in the pic- 
 tures of Gaspar and Claude. 
 
 Between this city and the invading force, though not 
 in a direct line, was posted the enemy in a strong position; 
 their right wing protected by one of the mounds common 
 in the plain, and their left backed by an olive wood of 
 considerable extent, and which grew on the last rocky 
 spur of the mountains. They were therefore, as regards 
 the plain, on commanding ground. The strength of the 
 two forces was not unequal, and the Papal troops were 
 not to be despised, consisting among others of a detach- 
 ment of the legion of Antibes and the Zouaves. They had 
 artillery, which was well posted. 
 
 The General surveyed the scene, for which he was not 
 unprepared. Disposing his troops in positions in whiclj
 
 310 LOTHAIR. 
 
 they were as much protected as possible from the enemy's 
 fire, he opened upon them a fierce and continuous cannon- 
 ade, while he ordered Colonel Campian and eight hundred 
 men to fall back among the hills, and following a circuitous 
 path, which had been revealed by a shepherd, gain the 
 spur of the mountains and attack the enemy in their rear 
 through the olive wood. It was calculated that this move- 
 ment, if successful, would require about three hours, and 
 the General for that period of the time had to occupy the 
 enemy and his own troops with what were in reality feint 
 attacks. 
 
 When the calculated time had elapsed, the General be- 
 came anxious, and his glass was never from his eye. Ha 
 was posted on a convenient ridge, and the wind, which 
 was high this day from the sea, frequently cleared the field 
 from the volumes of smoke ; so his opportunities of obser- 
 vation were good. But the three hours passed, and there 
 was no sign of the approach of Campian, and he ordered 
 Sarano with his division to advance towards the mound 
 and occupy the attention of the right wing of the enemy ; 
 but very shortly after Lothair had carried this order, and 
 four hours having elapsed, the General observed some con- 
 fusion in the left wing of the enemy, and instantly counter- 
 manding the order, commanded a general attack in line. 
 The troops charged with enthusiasm, but they were en- 
 countered with a resolution as determined. At first they 
 carried the mound, broke the enemy's centre, and were 
 mixed up with their great guns ; but the enemy fiercely 
 rallied, and the invaders were repulsed. The Papal troops 
 retained their position, and their opponents were in disorder 
 on the plain and a little dismayed. It was at this moment 
 that Theodora rushed forward, and waving a sword in one 
 hand, and in the other the standard of the Republic, ex- 
 claimed, ' Brothers, to Borne ! ' 
 
 This sight inflamed their faltering hearts, which after all
 
 LOTHAIB. 311 
 
 were rather confounded than dismayed. They formed and 
 rallied round her, and charged with renewed energy at the 
 very moment that Campian had brought the force of his 
 division on the enemy's rear. A panic came over the Papal 
 troops, thus doubly assailed, and their rout was complete. 
 They retreated in the utmost disorder to Yiterbo, which 
 they abandoned that night and hurried to Borne. 
 
 At the last moment, when the victory was no longer 
 doubtful, and all were in full retreat or in full pursuit, 
 a Zouave, in wantonness firing his weapon before he threw 
 it away, sent a random shot which struck Theodora, and 
 she fell. Lothair, who had never left her during the battle, 
 was at her side in a moment, and a soldier, who had also 
 marked the fatal shot ; and, strange to say, so hot and 
 keen was the pursuit, that though a moment before they 
 seemed to be in the very thick of the strife, they almost 
 instantaneously found themselves alone, or rather with no 
 companions than the wounded near them. She looked at 
 Lothair, but at first could not speak. She seemed stunned, 
 but soon murmured, ' Go, go ; you are wanted.' 
 
 At this moment the General rode up with some of his 
 staff. His countenance was elate and his eye sparkled with 
 fire. But catching the figure of Lothair kneeling on the 
 field, he reined in his charger and said, ' What is this ? ' 
 Then looking more closely, he instantly dismounted, and 
 muttering to himself, ' This mars the victory,' he was at 
 Theodora's side. 
 
 A slight smile came over her when she recognised the 
 General, and she faintly pressed his hand, and then said 
 again, ' Go, go ; you are all wanted.' 
 
 'None of us are wanted. The day is won; we must 
 think of you.' 
 
 ' Is it won ? ' she murmured. 
 
 * Complete.' 
 
 ' I die content.'
 
 312 LOTHAIR. 
 
 ' Who talks of death ? ' said the General. This is a 
 wound, but I have had some worse. What we must think 
 of now are remedies. I passed an ambulance this moment. 
 Run for it,' he said to his aide-de-camp. 'We must 
 staunch the wound at once ; but it is only a mile to the 
 city, and then we shall find everything, for we were ex- 
 pected. I will ride on, and there shall be proper attend- 
 ance ready before you arrive. You will conduct our friend 
 to the city,' he said to Lothair, ' and be of good courage, as 
 I am.' 
 
 CHAPTER LIX. 
 
 THE troops were rushing through the gates of the city 
 when the General rode up. There was a struggling and 
 stifling crowd ; cheers and shrieks. It was that moment 
 of wild fruition, when the master is neither recognised nor 
 obeyed. It is not easy to take a bone out of a dog's 
 mouth ; nevertheless the presence of the General in time 
 prevailed, something like order was established, and before 
 the ambulance could arrive, a guard had been appointed to 
 receive it, and the ascent to the monastery, where a quarter 
 was prepared, kept clear. 
 
 During the progress to the city Theodora never spoke, 
 but she seemed stunned rather than suffering ; and once, 
 when Lothair, who was walking by her side, caught her 
 glance with his sorrowful and anxious face, she put forth 
 her hand and pressed his. 
 
 The ascent to the convent was easy, and the advantages 
 of air and comparative tranquillity, which the place offered, 
 counterbalanced the risk of postponing, for a very brief 
 space, the examination of the wound. 
 
 They laid her on their arrival on a large bed, without 
 poles or canopy, in a loftv white- washed room of consider.
 
 LOTHAIB. 313 
 
 able dimensions, clean and airy, with high open windows. 
 There was no furniture in the room except a chair, a table, 
 and a crucifix. Lothair took her in his arms and laid her 
 on the bed; and the common soldier who had hitherto 
 assisted him, a giant in stature with a beard a foot long, 
 stood by the bedside crying like a child. The chief surgeon 
 almost at the same moment arrived with an aide-de-camp 
 of the General, and her faithful female attendant, and in a 
 few minutes her husband, himself wounded and covered 
 with dust. 
 
 The surgeon at once requested that all should withdraw 
 ex .?ept her devoted maid, and they waited his report with- 
 out, in that deep sad silence which will not despair, and 
 yet dares not hope. 
 
 When the wound had been examined and probed and 
 dressed, Theodora in a faint voice said, ' Is it desperate ? ' 
 
 ' Not desperate,' said the surgeon, ' but serious. All 
 depends upon your perfect tranquillity, of mind as well as 
 body.' 
 
 ' Well I am here and cannot move ; and as for my mind, 
 I am not only serene but happy.' 
 
 ' Then we shall get through this,' said the surgeon en- 
 couragingly. 
 
 ' I do not like you to stay with me,' said Theodora. 
 ' There are other sufferers besides myself.' 
 
 ' My orders are not to quit you,' said the surgeon, ' but 
 I can be of great use within these walls. I shall return 
 when the restorative has had its effect. But remember, if 
 I be wanted, I am always here.' 
 
 Soon after this Theodora fell into a gentle slumber, and 
 after two hours woke refreshed. The countenance of the 
 surgeon when he again visited her was less troubled ; it was 
 hopeful. 
 
 The day was now beginning to decline ; notwithstanding 
 the scenes of tumult and violence near at hand, all was
 
 314 LOTHAIR. 
 
 here silent ; and the breeze, which had been strong during 
 the whole day, but which blew froru the sea, and was very 
 soft, played gratefully upon the pale countenance of the 
 sufferer. Juddenly she said, ' What is that ? ' 
 
 And they answered and said, ' We heard nothing.' 
 
 ' I hear the sound of great guns,' said Theodora. 
 
 And they listened, and in a moment both the surgeon 
 and the maid heard the sound of distant ordnance. 
 
 ' The Liberator is at hand,' said the maid. 
 
 ' I dare say,' said the surgeon. 
 
 ' No ; ' said Theodora looking distressed. ' The sounds 
 do not come from his direction. Go and see, Dolores ; ask 
 and tell me what are these sounds.' 
 
 The surgeon was sitting by her side, and occasionally 
 touching her pulse, or wiping the slight foam from her 
 brow, when Dolores returned and said, ' Lady, the sounds 
 are the great guns of Civita Vecchia.' 
 
 A deadly change came over the countenance of Theodora, 
 and the surgeon looked alarmed. He would have given 
 her some restorative, but she refused it. ' No, kind friend,' 
 she said; 'it is finished. I have just received a wound 
 more fatal than the shot in the field this morning. The 
 French are at Rome. Tell me, kind friend, how long do 
 you think I may live ? ' 
 
 The surgeon felt her pulse ; his look was gloomy. ' In 
 Eueli a case as your<> ' he said, ' the patient is the best 
 judge.' 
 
 ' I understand,' she said. ' Send then at once for my 
 husband.' 
 
 He was at hand, for his wound had been dressed in the 
 convent, and he came to Theodora with his arm in a sling, 
 but with the attempt of a cheerful visage. 
 
 ]n the meantime, Lothair, after having heard the first, 
 and by no means hopeless, bulletin of the surgeon, had 
 been obliged to leave the convent to look after his men,
 
 LOTHATR. 315 
 
 and having seen them in quarters and made his report to 
 the General, he obtained permission to return to the con- 
 vent and ascertain the condition of Theodora. Arrived 
 there, he heard that she had had refreshing slumber, and 
 that her husband was now with her, and a ray of hope 
 lighted up the darkness of his soul. He was walking up 
 and down the refectory of the convent with that sickening 
 restlessness which attends impending and yet uncertain 
 sorrow, when Colonel Campian entered the apartment and 
 beckoned to him. 
 
 There was an expression in his face which appalled 
 Lothair, and he was about to enquire after Theodora, when 
 his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth and he could 
 not speak. The Colonel shook his head, and said in a 
 low, hollow voice, ' She wishes to see you, and alone 
 Come.' 
 
 Theodora was sitting in the bed propped up by cushions 
 when Lothair entered, and as her wound was internal, 
 there was no evidence of her sufferings. The distressful 
 expression of her face when she heard the great guns of 
 Civita Vecchia had passed away. It was serious, but it 
 was serene. She bade her maid leave the chamber, and 
 then she said to Lothair, ' It is the last time I shall speak 
 to you, and I wish that we should be alone. There is 
 something much on my mind at this moment, and you can 
 relieve it.' 
 
 ' Adored being,' murmured Lothair with streaming eyes, 
 ' there is no wish of yours that I will not fulfil.' 
 
 ' I know your life, for you have told it me, and you are 
 true. I know your nature ; it is gentle and brave, but 
 perhaps too susceptible. I wished it to be susceptible only 
 of the great and good. Mark me : I have a vague but 
 strong conviction that there will be another, and a more 
 powerful, attempt to gain you to the Church of Rome. If 
 I have ever been to you, as you have sometimes said, au
 
 316 LOTHAIR. 
 
 object of kind thoughts, if not a fortunate, at least a faith- 
 ful, friend ; promise me now, at this hour of trial, with all 
 the solemnity that becomes the moment, that you will never 
 enter that communion.' 
 
 Lothair would have spoken, but his voice was choked, 
 and he could only press her hand and bow his head. 
 
 ' But promise me,' said Theodora. 
 
 ' I promise,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' And now,' she said, ' embrace me, for I wish that your 
 spirit should be upon me as mine departs.' 
 
 CHAPTER LX. 
 
 IT was a November day in Rome, and the sky was as 
 gloomy as the heaven of London. The wind moaned 
 through the silent streets, deserted except by soldiers. 
 The shops were shut, not a civilian or a priest could be 
 seen. The Corso was occupied by the Swiss Guard and 
 Zouaves, with artillery ready to sweep it at a moment's 
 notice. Six of the city gates were shut and barricaded 
 with barrels full of earth. Troops and artillery were also 
 posted in several of the principal piazzas, and on some 
 commanding heights, and St. Peter's itself was garrisoned. 
 And yet these were the arrangements rather of panic than 
 precaution. The utmost dismay pervaded the council- 
 chamber of the Vatican. Since the news had arrived of 
 the disembarkation of the French troops at Marseilles, all 
 hope of interference had expired. It was clear that Ber- 
 wick had been ultimately foiled, and his daring spirit and 
 teeming device were the last hope, as they were the ablest 
 representation, of Roman audacity and stratagem. The 
 Revolutionary Committee, whose abiding-place or agents 
 never could be traced or discovered, had posted every
 
 LOTIIAIR. 317 
 
 pert of the city during the night with their manifesto, 
 announcing that the hour had arrived; an attempt, par- 
 tially successful, had heen made to blow up the barracks of 
 the Zouaves ; and the Cardinal Secretary was in possession 
 of information that an insurrection was immediate, and 
 that the city would be fired in four different quarters. 
 
 The Pope had escaped from the Vatican to the Castle of 
 St. Angelo, where he was secure, and where his courage 
 could be sustained by the presence of the Noble Guard with 
 their swords always drawn. The six score of Monsignori, 
 who in their different offices form, what is styled, the Court 
 of Rome, had either accompanied his Holiness, or pru- 
 dently secreted themselves in the strongest palaces and 
 convents at their command. Later in the day, news arrived 
 of the escape of Garibaldi from Caprera ; he was said to be 
 marching on the city, and only five and twenty miles dis- 
 tant. There appeared another proclamation from the 
 Revolutionary Committee, mysteriously posted under the 
 very noses of the guards and police, postponing the insur- 
 rection till the arrival of the Liberator. 
 
 The Papal cause seemed hopeless. There was a general 
 feeling throughout the city and all classes, that this time it 
 was to be an affair of Alaric or Genseric, or the Constable 
 of Bourbon ; no negotiations, no compromises, no conven- 
 tions, but slaughter, havoc, a great judicial devastation, that 
 was to extirpate all signs and memories of Mediasval and 
 Semitic Rome, and restore and renovate the inheritance of 
 the true offspring of the she-wolf. The very aspect of the 
 place itself was sinister. Whether it were the dulness of 
 the dark sky, or the frown of MADRE NATURA herself, but 
 the old Seven Hills seemed to look askance. The haughty 
 Capitol, impatient of its chapels, sighed once more for 
 triumphs ; and the proud Palatine, remembering the Caesars, 
 glanced with imperial contempt on the palaces of the Pa- 
 pal princelings that, in the coarse of ignominious ages, had
 
 318 LOTHAIR. 
 
 been constructed out of the exhaustless womb of its still 
 sovereign ruin. The Jews in their quarter spoke nothing, 
 but exchanged a curious glance, as if to say, ' Has it come 
 at last ? And will they indeed serve her as she served 
 Sion ? ' 
 
 This dreadful day at last passed, followed by as dreadful 
 a night, and then another day equally gloomy, equally 
 silent, equally panicstricken. Even insurrection would 
 have been a relief amid the horrible and wearing suspense. 
 On the third day the Government made some wild arrests 
 of the wrong persons, and then came out a fresh proclama- 
 tion from the Revolutionary Committee, directing the 
 Romans to make no move until the advanced guard of 
 Garibaldi had appeared upon Monte Mario. About this 
 time the routed troops of the Pope arrived in confusion 
 from Viterbo, and of course extenuated their discomfiture 
 by exaggerating the strength of their opponents. Ac- 
 cording to them they had encountered not less than ten 
 thousand men, who now having joined the still greater 
 force of Garibaldi, were in full march on the city. 
 
 The members of the Papal party who showed the greatest 
 spirit and the highest courage at this trying conjuncture, 
 were the Roman ladies and their foreign friends. They 
 scraped lint for the troops as incessantly as they offered 
 prayers to the Virgin. Some of them were trained nurses, 
 and they were training others to tend the sick and wounded. 
 They organised a hospital service, and when the wounded 
 arrived from Viterbo, notwithstanding the rumours of incen- 
 diarism and massacre, they came forth from their homes, and 
 proceeded in companies, with no male attendants but armed 
 men, to the discharge of their self-appointed public duties. 
 There were many foreigners in the Papal ranks, and the 
 sympathies and services of the female visitors to Rome were 
 engaged for their countrymen. Princesses of France and 
 Flanders might be seen by the tressel bed/- of many a suffering
 
 LOTHAIR. 319 
 
 Eoldier of Dauphine and Brabant ; but there were numerous 
 subjects of Queen Victoria in the Papal ranks : some 
 Englishmen, several Scotchmen, many Irish. For them 
 the English ladies had organised a special service. Lady 
 St. Jerome, with unflagging zeal, presided over this depart- 
 ment ; and the superior of the sisterhood of mercy, that 
 shrank from no toil, and feared no danger in the fulfilment 
 of those sacred duties of pious patriots, was Miss Arundel. 
 
 She was leaning over the bed of one who had been cut 
 down in the olive wood by a sabre of Campian's force, 
 when a peal of artillery was heard. She thought that her 
 hour had arrived, and the assault had commenced. 
 
 ' Most holy Mary ! ' she exclaimed, 'sustain me.' 
 
 There was another peal, and it was repeated, and again 
 and again at regular intervals. 
 
 ' That is not a battle, it is a salute,' murmured the 
 wounded soldier. 
 
 And he was right ; it was the voice of the great guns tel- 
 ling that the French had arrived. 
 
 The consternation of the Revolutionary Committee, no 
 longer sustained by Colonna, absent in France, was complete. 
 Had the advanced guard of Garibaldi been in sight, it 
 might still have been the wisest course to rise ; but Monte 
 Mario was not yet peopled by them, and an insurrection 
 against the Papal troops, reanimated by the reported arrival 
 of the French, and increased in numbers by the fugitives 
 from Viterbo, would have been certainly a rash and pro- 
 bably a hopeless effort. And so, in the midst of confused 
 and hesitating councils, the first division of the French force 
 arrived at the gates of Rome, and marched into the gloomy 
 and silent city. 
 
 Since the interference of St. Peter and St. Paul against 
 Alaric, the Papacy had never experienced a more miracu- 
 lous interposition in its favour. Shortly after this the wind 
 changed, and the sky became serene ; a sunbeam played OD
 
 320 LOTHAIE. 
 
 the flashing cross of St. Peter's ; the Pope left the Castlb of 
 Angelo, and returned to the Quirinal ; the Noble Guard 
 sheathed their puissant blades ; the six score of Monsignori 
 reappeared in all their busy haunts and stately offices ; and 
 the Court of Rome, no longer despairing of the Republic, 
 and with a spirit worthy of the Senate after Cannae, ordered 
 the whole of its forces into the field to combat its invaders, 
 with the prudent addition, in order to ensure a triumph, of 
 a brigade of French infantry armed with chassepots. 
 
 Garibaldi, who was really at hand, hearing of these events, 
 fell back on Monte Rotondo, about fifteen miles from the 
 city, and took up a strong position. He was soon attacked 
 by his opponents, and defeated with considerable slaughter, 
 and forced to fly. The Papal troops returned to Rome in 
 triumph, but with many wounded. The Roman ladies and 
 their friends resumed their noble duties with enthusiasm. 
 The ambulances were apportioned to the different hospitals, 
 and the services of all were required. Our own country- 
 men had suffered severely, but the skill and energy and 
 gentle care of Clare Arundel and her companions only in- 
 creased with the greater calls upon their beautiful and 
 sublime virtues. 
 
 A woman came to Miss Arundel and told her that iii 
 one of the ambulances was a young man whom they could 
 not make out. He was severely wounded, and had now 
 swooned ; but they had reason to believe he was an En- 
 glishman. Would she see him and speak to him ? And she 
 went. 
 
 The person who had summoned her was a woman of 
 much beauty, not an uncommon quality in Rome, and of 
 some majesty of mien, as little rare in that city. She was 
 said, at the time when some enquiry was made, to be Maria 
 Serafina de Angelis, the wife of a tailor in the Ripetta. 
 
 The ambulance was in the courtyard of the hospital of 
 the Santissima Trinita di Pellegrini. The woman pointed
 
 LOTHAIR. 321 
 
 to it, and then went away. There was only one person in 
 the ambulance ; the rest had been taken into the hospital, but 
 he had been left because he was in a swoon, and they were 
 trying to restore him. Those around the ambulance made 
 room for Miss Arundel as she approached, and she beheld a 
 young man, covered with the stains of battle, and severely 
 wounded ; but his countenance was uninjured though insen- 
 sible. His eyes were closed, and his auburn hair fell in 
 clusters on his white forehead. The sister of mercy touched 
 the pulse to ascertain whether there yet was life, but, in the 
 very act, her own frame became agitated, and the colour 
 left her cheek, as she recognised LOTHAIK. 
 
 CHAPTER LXI. 
 
 WHEN Lothair in some degree regained consciousness, he 
 found himself in bed. The chamber was lofty and dim, 
 ftiid had once been splendid. Thoughtfulness had invested 
 it with an air of comfort rare under Italian roofs. The 
 fagots sparkled on the hearth, the light from the windows 
 was veiled with hangings, and the draughts from the tall 
 doors guarded against by screens. And by his bedside 
 there were beautiful flowers, and a crucifix, and a silver 
 
 bell. 
 
 i 
 
 Where was he ? He looked up at the velvet canopy 
 above, and then at the pictures that covered the walls, but 
 there was no familiar aspect. He remembered nothing 
 since he was shot down in the field of Mentana, and even 
 that imperfectly. 
 
 And there had been another battle before that, followed 
 by a catastrophe strill more dreadful. When had all this 
 liappened, and where ? He tried to move hia bandaged 
 form, but he had no strength, and his mind seemed weaker
 
 322 LOTH AIR. 
 
 than his frame. Bat he was soon sensible that he was not 
 ilone. A veiled figure gently lifted him, and another one 
 refreshed his pillows. He spoke, or tried to speak, but one 
 of them pressed her finger to her shrouded lips, and he 
 willingly relapsed into the silence which he had hardly 
 strength enough to break. 
 
 And sometimes these veiled and gliding ministers brought 
 him sustenance and sometimes remedies, and he complied 
 with all their suggestions, but with absolute listlessness ; 
 and sometimes a coarser hand interposed, and sometimes he 
 caught a countenance that was not concealed, but was ever 
 strange. He had a vague impression that they examined 
 and dressed his wounds, and arranged his bandages ; but 
 whether he really had wounds, and whether he were or 
 were not bandaged, he hardly knew, and did not care to 
 know. He was not capable of thought, and memory was 
 an effort under which he always broke down. Day after 
 day he remained silent and almost motionless alike in mind 
 and body. He had a vague feeling that, after some great 
 sorrows, and some great trials, he was in stillness and in 
 safety; and he had an indefinite mysterious sentiment of 
 gratitude to some unknown power, that had cherished him 
 in his dark calamities, and poured balm and oil into his 
 wounds. 
 
 It was in this mood of apathy that, one evening, there 
 broke upon his ear low but beautiful voices performing the 
 evening service of the Church. His eye glistened, his 
 heart was touched by the vesper spell. He listened with 
 rapt attention to the sweet and sacred strains, and when 
 they died away he felt depressed. Would they ever sound 
 again? 
 
 Sooner than he could have hoped, for, when he woke in 
 the morning from his slumbers, which, strange to say, were 
 always disturbed, for the mind and the memory seemed to 
 work at night though in fearful and exhausting chaos, the
 
 LOT-HAIR. 323 
 
 same divine melodies that had soothed him in the eve, 
 now sounded in the glad and grateful worship of matin 
 praise. 
 
 ' I have heard the voice of angels,' he murmured to his 
 veiled attendant. 
 
 The vesper and the matin hours became at once the 
 epochs of his day. He was ever thinking of them, and 
 soon was thinking of the feelings which their beautiful 
 services celebrate and express. His mind seemed no 
 longer altogether a blank, and the religious sentiment was 
 the first that returned to his exhausted heart. 
 
 ' There will be a requiem to-day,' whispered one of his 
 veiled attendants. 
 
 A requiem ! a service for the dead ; a prayer for their 
 peace and rest ! And who was dead ? The bright, th 
 matchless one, the spell and fascination of his life ! Was it 
 possible ? Could she* be dead, who seemed vitality in itg 
 consummate form ? Was there ever such a being as Theo- 
 dora ? And if there were no Theodora on earth, why should 
 one think of anything but heaven ? 
 
 The sounds came floating down the chamber till they 
 seemed to cluster round his brain ; sometimes solemn, 
 sometimes thrilling, sometimes the divine pathos melting 
 the human heart with celestial sympathy and heavenly 
 solace. The tears fell fast from his agitated vision, and 
 he sank back exhausted, almost insensible, on his pillow. 
 
 'The Church has a heart for all our joys and all our 
 sorrows, and for all our hopes, and all our fears,' whispered 
 a veiled attendant, as she bathed his temples with fragrant 
 waters. 
 
 Though the condition of Lothair had at first seemed des- 
 perate, his youthful and vigorous frame had enabled him 
 to rally, and with time and the infinite solicitude which he 
 received, hi* case was not without hope. But though his 
 physical cure was somewhat advanced, the prostration of 
 
 T 2
 
 324 LOTHAIR. 
 
 his mind seemed susceptible of no relief. The services of 
 the Church accorded with his depressed condition ; they 
 were the only events of his life, and he cherished them. 
 His attendants now permitted and even encouraged him to 
 speak, but he seemed entirely incurious and indifferent. 
 Sometimes they read to him, and he listened, but he never 
 made remarks. The works which they selected had a re- 
 ligious or ecclesiastical bias, even while they were ima- 
 ginative ; and it seemed difficult not to be interested 
 by the ingenious fancy by which it was worked out, that 
 everything that was true and sacred in heaven had ita 
 symbol and significance in the qualities and accidents of 
 earth. 
 
 After a month passed in this manner, the surgeons having 
 announced that Lothair might now prepare to rise from 
 his bed, a veiled attendant said to him one day, ' There is a 
 gentleman here who is a friend of yours, and who would 
 like to see you. And perhaps you would like to see him 
 also for other reasons, for you must have much to say to 
 God after all that you have suffered. And he is a most 
 holy man.' 
 
 ' I have no wish to see anyone. Are you sure he is not 
 a stranger ? ' asked Lothair. 
 
 ' He is in the next room,' said the attendant. ' He has 
 been here throughout your illness, conducting our services ; 
 often by your bedside when you were asleep, and always 
 praying for you.' 
 
 The veiled attendant drew back and waved her hand, 
 and some one glided forward and said in a low, soft voice, 
 ' You have not forgotten me ? ' 
 
 And Lothair beheld Monsignore Catesby. 
 
 ' It is a long time since we met,' said Lothair, looking at 
 him with some scrutiny, and then all interest died away, 
 and he turned away his vague and wandering eyes. 
 
 ' But you know me ? '
 
 LOTHAIR. 325 
 
 I know not where I am, and I but faintly comprehend 
 what has happened,' murmured Lothaif. 
 
 ' You are among friends,' said the Monsignore, in tones 
 of sympathy. 
 
 ' What has happened,' he added, with an air of mystery, 
 not unmixed with a certain expression of ecstasy in his 
 glance, 'must be reserved for other times, when you are 
 stronger, and can grapple with such high themes.' 
 
 ' How long have I been here ? ' enquired Loth air, dream. 
 
 ' It is a month since the Annunciation.' 
 
 ' What Annunciation ? ' 
 
 ' Hush ! ' said the Monsignore, and he raised his finger 
 to his lip. ' We must not talk of these things, at least at 
 present. No doubt the same blessed person that saved you 
 from the jaws of death is at this moment guarding over 
 your recovery and guiding it ; but we do not deserve, nor 
 does the Church expect, perpetual miracles. We must 
 avail ourselves, under Divine sanction, of the beneficent 
 tendencies of nature ; and in your case her operations must 
 not be disturbed at this moment by any excitement, except, 
 indeed, the glow of gratitude for celestial aid, and the 
 inward joy which must permeate the being of anyone who 
 feels that he is among the most favoured of men.' 
 
 From this time Monsignore Catesby scarcely ever 
 quitted Lothair. He hailed Lothair in the morn, and 
 parted from him at night with a blessing ; and in the 
 interval Catesby devoted his whole life, and the inex- 
 haustible resources of his fine and skilled intelligence to 
 alleviate or amuse the existence of his companion. Some- 
 times he conversed with Lothair, adroitly taking the chief 
 burthen of the talk ; and yet, whether it were bright nar- 
 rative or lively dissertation, never seeming to lecture or 
 hold forth, but relieving the monologue when expedient by 
 Jin interesting enquiry, which he was always ready in duo
 
 326 LOTHAIR. 
 
 time to answer himself, or softening the instruction by the 
 playfulness of his mind and manner. Sometimes he read 
 to Lothair, and attuned the mind of his charge to the true 
 spiritual note by melting passages from A Kempis or 
 Chrysostom. Then he would bring a portfolio of wondrous 
 drawings by the mediaeval masters, of saints and seraphs, 
 and accustom the eye and thought of Lothair to the forms 
 and fancies of the Court of Heaven. 
 
 One day Lothair, having risen from his bed for the first 
 time, and lying on a sofa in an adjoining chamber to that 
 in which he had been so long confined, the Monsignore 
 seated himself by the side of Lothair, and, opening a port- 
 folio, took out a drawing and held it before Lothair, observ- 
 ing his countenance with a glance of peculiar scrutiny. 
 
 ' Well ! ' said Catesby after some little pause, as if await- 
 ing a remark from his companion. 
 
 ' 'Tis beautiful ! ' said Lothair. ' Is it by Raffaelle ? ' 
 
 ' No ; by Fra Bartolomeo. But the countenance, do you 
 remember ever having met such an one ? ' 
 
 Lothair shook his head. Catesby took out another 
 drawing, the same subject, the Blessed Virgin. ' By 
 Giulio,' said the Monsignore, and he watched the face of 
 Lothair, but it was listless. 
 
 Then he showed Lothair another and another and an- 
 other. At last he held before him one which was really 
 by Raffaelle, and by which Lothair was evidently much 
 moved. His eye lit up, a blush suffused his pale cheek, he 
 took the drawing himself and held it before his gaze with a 
 trembling hand. 
 
 ' Yes, I remember this,' he murmured, for it was one of 
 those faces of Greek beauty which the great painter not 
 infrequently caught up at Rome. The Monsignore looked 
 gently round and waved his hand, and immediately there 
 arose the hymn to the Virgin in subdued strains of ex- 
 quisite melody.
 
 LOTHAIR. 327 
 
 On the. next morning, when Lothair woke, he found on 
 the table by his side the drawing of the Virgin in a sliding 
 frame. 
 
 About this time the Monsignore began to accustom 
 Lothair to leave his apartment, and as he was not yet per- 
 mitted to walk, Catesby introduced what he called an 
 English chair, in which Lothair was enabled to survey a 
 little the place which had been to him a refuge and a 
 home. It seemed a building of vast size, raised round an 
 inner court with arcades and windows, and, in the higher 
 story where he resided, an apparently endless number of 
 chambers and galleries. One morning, in their peram- 
 bulations, the Monsignore unlocked the door of a covered 
 way which had no light but from a lamp which guided 
 their passage. The opposite door at the end of this 
 covered way opened into a church, but one of a charactei 
 different from any which Lothair had yet entered. 
 
 It had been raised during the latter half of the sixteenth 
 century by Vignola, when, under the influence of the great 
 Pagan revival, the Christian Church began to assume the 
 character of an Olympian temple. A central painted 
 cupola of large but exquisite proportions, supported by 
 pilasters with gilded capitals, and angels of white marble 
 springing from golden brackets ; walls encrusted with rare 
 materials of every tint, and altars supported by serpentine 
 columns of agate and alabaster; a blaze of pictures, and 
 statues, and precious stones, and precious metals, denoted 
 one of the chief temples of the sacred brotherhood of 
 Jesus, raised when the great order had recognised that the 
 views of primitive and mediaeval Christianity, founded on 
 the humility of man, were not in accordance with the age 
 of confidence in human energy, in which they were des- 
 tined to rise, and which they were determined to direct. 
 
 Guided by Catesby, and leaning on a staff, Lothair 
 gained a gorgeous side chapel in which mass was cele-
 
 328 LOTHAIR. 
 
 brating ; the air was rich with incense, and all heaven 
 seemed to open in the ministrations of a seraphic choir. 
 Crushed by his great calamities, both physical and moral, 
 Lothair sometimes felt that he could now be content if the 
 rest of his life could flow away amid this celestial fra- 
 grance and these gusliing sounds of heavenly melody. 
 And absorbed in these feelings it was not immediately 
 observed by him that on the altar, behind the dazzling 
 blaze of tapers, was a picture of the Virgin, and identically 
 the same countenance as that he had recognised with emo- 
 tion in the drawing of RafFaelle. 
 
 It revived perplexing memories which agitated him, 
 thoughts on which it seemed his brain had not now 
 strength enough to dwell, and yet with which it now 
 seemed inevitable for him to grapple. The congregation 
 was not very numerous, and when it broke up, several of 
 them lingered behind and whispered to the Monsignore, 
 and then, after a little time, Catesby approached Lothair 
 and said, ' There are some here who would wish to kiss 
 your hand, or even touch the hem of your garments. It 
 is troublesome, but natural, considering all that has 
 occurred and that this is the first time, perhaps, that they 
 may have met anyone who has been so favoured.' 
 
 ' Favoured ! ' said Lothair ; ' am I favoured ? It seems 
 to me I am the most forlorn of men, if even I am that.' 
 
 ' Hush ! ' said the Monsignore, ' we must not talk of 
 these things at present ; ' and he motioned to some who 
 approached and contemplated Lothair with blended curio- 
 sity and reverence. 
 
 These visits of Lothair to the beautiful church of the 
 Jesuits became of daily occurrence, and often happened 
 several times on the same day ; indeed they formed the 
 only incident which seemed to break his listlessness. He 
 became interested in the change and variety of the services, 
 in the persons and characters of the officiating priests.
 
 LOTHAITi. 329 
 
 The soft manners of these fathers, their intelligence in the 
 performance of their offices, their obliging carriage, and 
 the unaffected concern with which all he said or did seemed 
 to inspire them, won upon him unconsciously. The church 
 had become his world ; and his sympathies, if he still had 
 sympathies, seemed confined to those within its walls. 
 
 In the meantime his physical advancement though slow 
 was gradual, and had hitherto never been arrested. He 
 could even walk a little alone, though artificially supported, 
 and rambled about the halls and galleries full of a pro- 
 digious quantity of pictures, from the days of Raflael 
 Sanzio to those of Raffael Mengs. 
 
 ' The doctors think now we might try a little drive,' said 
 the Monsignore one morning. ' The rains have ceased and 
 refreshed everything. To-day is like the burst of spring.' 
 And when Lothair seemed to shudder at the idea of facing 
 anything like the external world, the Monsignore suggested 
 immediately that they should go out in a close carriage, 
 which they finally entered in the huge quadrangle of the 
 building. Lothair was so nervous that he pulled down 
 even the blind of his window ; and the Monsignore, who 
 always humoured him, half pulled down his own. 
 
 Their progress seemed through a silent land and they 
 could hardly be traversing streets. Then the ascent be- 
 came a little precipitous, and then the carriage stopped and 
 the Monsignore said, ' Here is a solitary spot. We shall 
 meet no one. The view is charming, and the air is soft.' 
 And he placed his hand gently on the arm of Lothair, and, 
 as it were, drew him out of the carriage. 
 
 The sun was bright, and the sky was bland. There was 
 something in the breath of nature that was delightful. The 
 scent of violets was worth all the incense in the world ; all 
 the splendid marbles and priestly vestments seemed hard 
 and cold when compared with the glorious colours of the 
 cactus and the wild forms of the golden and gigantic aloes.
 
 330 LOTHAIR. 
 
 The Favonian breeze played on the brow of this beautiful 
 hill, and the exquisite palm trees, while they bowed their 
 rustling heads, answered in responsive chorus to the anti- 
 phon of nature. 
 
 The dreary look that had been so long imprinted on the 
 face of Lothair melted away. 
 
 ' 'Tis well that we came, is it not ? ' said Catesby ; ' and 
 now we will seat ourselves.' Below and before them, on 
 an undulating site, a city of palaces and churches spread 
 out its august form, enclosing within its ample walls some- 
 times a wilderness of classic ruins, column and arch and 
 theatre, sometimes the umbrageous spread of princely 
 gardens. A winding and turbid river divided the city in 
 unequal parts, in one of which there rose a vast and 
 glorious temple, crowned with a dome of almost super- 
 human size and skill, on which the favourite sign of heaven 
 flashed with triumphant truth. 
 
 The expression of relief which, for a moment, had re- 
 posed on the face of Lothair, left it when he said in an 
 agitated voice, ' I at length behold ROME ! ' 
 
 CHAPTER LXII. 
 
 THE recognition of Rome by Lothair evinced not only a 
 consciousness of locality, but an interest in it not before 
 exhibited ; and the Monsignore soon after seized the oppor- 
 tunity of drawing the mind of his companion to the past, 
 and feeling how far he now realised the occurrences that 
 immediately preceded his arrival in the city. But Lothair 
 would not dwell on them. ' I wish to think of nothing,' 
 ho said, ' that happened before I entered this city : all I 
 desire now is to know those to whom I am indebted for 
 my preservation in a condition that seemed hopeless.'
 
 LOTHAIR 331 
 
 ' There is LO thing hopeless with Divine aid,' said the 
 Monsignore ; ' but, humanly speaking, yon are indebted 
 for your preservation to English friends, long and inti- 
 mately cherished. It is under their roof that you dwell, 
 the Agostini palace, tenanted by Lord St. Jerome.' 
 
 ' Lord St. Jerome ! ' murmured Lothair to himself. 
 
 ' And the ladies of his house are those who, only with 
 some slight assistance from my poor self, tended you 
 throughout your most desperate state, and when we some- 
 times almost feared that mind and body were alike 
 wrecked.' 
 
 4 1 have a dream of angels,' said Lothair ; ' and some- 
 times I listened to heavenly voices that I seemed to have 
 heard before.' 
 
 'I am sure you have not forgotten the ladies of that 
 house ? ' said Catesby watching his countenance. 
 
 ' No ; one of them summoned me to meet her at Borne,' 
 murmured Lothair, ' and I am here.' 
 
 ' That summons was divine,' said Catesby, ' and only the 
 herald of the great event that was ordained and has since 
 occurred. In this holy city Miss Arundel must ever count 
 as the most sanctified of her sex.' 
 
 Lothair relapsed into silence, _, which subsequently ap- 
 peared to be meditation, for when the carriage stopped, 
 and the Monsignore assisted him to alight, he said, ' I 
 must see Lord St. Jerome.' 
 
 And in the afternoon, with due and preparatory an- 
 nouncement, Lord St. Jerome waited on Lothair. The 
 Monsignore ushered him into the chamber, and, though he 
 left them as it were alone, never quitted it. He watched 
 them conversing, while he seemed to be arranging books 
 and flowers ; he hovered over the conference, dropping 
 down on them at a critical moment, when the words be- 
 came either languid or embarrassing. Lord St. Jerome 
 was a hearty man, simple and high-bred. He addressed
 
 332 LOTHAIH. 
 
 Lothair with all his former kindness, but with some 
 degree of reserve, and even a dash of ceremony. Lothair 
 was not insensible to the alteration in his manner, but 
 could ascribe it to many causes. He was himself resolved 
 to make an effort, when Lord St. Jerome rose to depart, 
 and expressed the intention of Lady St. Jerome to wait on 
 him on the morrow. ' No, my dear Lord,' said Lothair ; 
 ' to-morrow I make my first visit, and it shall be to my 
 best friends. I would try to come this evening, but they 
 will not be alone ; and I must see them alone, if it be only 
 once.' 
 
 This visit of the morrow rather pressed on the nervous 
 system of Lothair. It was no slight enterprise, and called 
 up many recollections. He brooded over his engagement 
 daring the whole evening, and his night was disturbed. 
 His memory, long in a state of apathy, or curbed and 
 controlled into indifference, seemed endowed with unnatural 
 vitality, reproducing the history of his past life in rapid 
 and exhausting tumult. All its scenes rose before him, 
 Brentham, and Vauxe, and Muriel, and closing with one 
 absorbing spot, which, for a long time, it avoided, and in 
 which all merged and ended, Belmont. Then came that 
 anguish of the heart, which none can feel but those who in 
 the youth of life have lost some one infinitely fascinating 
 and dear, and the wild query why he too had not fallen on 
 the fatal plain which had entombed all the hope and 
 inspiration of his existence. 
 
 The interview was not so trying an incident as Lothair 
 anticipated, as often under such circumstances occurs. 
 Miss Arundel was not present ; and in the second place, 
 although Lothair could not at first be insensible to a 
 change in the manner of Lady St. Jerome, as well as in 
 that of her lord, exhibiting as it did a degree of deference 
 and ceremony which with her towards him were quite 
 unusual, still the genial, gushing nature of this lively and
 
 LOTHAIK. 333 
 
 enthusiastic woman, full of sympathy, soon asserted itself, 
 and her heart was overflowing with sorrow for all his suf- 
 ferings, and gratitude for his escape. 
 
 'And after all,' she said, 'everything must have been 
 ordained ; and, without these trials and even calamities, 
 that great event could not have been brought about which 
 must make all hail you as the most favoured of men.' 
 
 Lothair stared with a look of perplexity, and then said, 
 ' If I be the most favoured of men, it is only because two 
 angelic beings have deigned to minister to me in my 
 sorrow, with a sweet devotion I can never forget, and, 
 alas ! can never repay/ 
 
 CHAPTER LXIII. 
 
 LOTHAIR was not destined to meet Clare Arundel alone or 
 only in the presence of her family. He had acceded, after 
 a short time, to the wish of Lady St. Jerome, and the 
 advice of Monsignore Catesby, to wait on her in tho 
 evening, when Lady St. Jerome was always at home and 
 never alone. Her rooms were the privileged resort of the 
 very cream of Roman society and. of those English who, 
 like herself, had returned to the Roman Church. An 
 Italian palace supplied an excellent occasion for the display 
 of the peculiar genius of our countrywomen to make a 
 place habitable. Beautiful carpets, baskets of flowers, and 
 cases of ferns, and chairs which you could sit upon, tables 
 covered with an infinity of toys, sparkling, useful, and 
 fantastic, huge silken screens of rich colour, and a profu- 
 sion of light, produced a scene of combined comfort and 
 brilliancy which made everyone social who entered it, and 
 geemed to give a bright and graceful turn even to the 
 careless remarks of ordinary gossip. 
 
 Lady St. Jerome rose the uiomeiit her eyo caught the
 
 334 LOTHAIR. 
 
 entry of Lothair, and, advancing, received him with an air 
 of ceremony, mixed, however, with an expression of per- 
 sonal devotion which was distressing to him, and singularly 
 contrasted with the easy and genial receptions that he 
 remembered at Vauxe. Then Lady St. Jerome led Lothair 
 to her companion whom she had just quitted, and pre- 
 sented him to the Princess Tarpeia- Cinque Cento, a dame 
 in whose veins, it was said, flowed both consular and 
 pontifical blood of the rarest tint. 
 
 The Princess Tarpeia- Cinque Cento was the greatest lady 
 in Rome ; had still vast possessions, palaces and villas and 
 vineyards and broad farms. Notwithstanding all that had 
 occurred, sho still looked upon the kings and emperors 
 of the world as the mere servants of the Pope, and on the 
 old Roman nobility as still the Conscript Fathers of the 
 world. Her other characteristic was superstition. So she 
 was most distinguished by an irrepressible haughtiness and 
 an illimitable credulity. The only softening circumstance 
 was that, being in the hands of the Jesuits, her religion 
 did not assume an ascetic or gloomy character. She was 
 fond of society, and liked to show her wondrous jewels, 
 which were still unrivalled, although she had presented 
 His Holiness in his troubles with a tiara of diamonds. 
 
 There were rumours that the Princess Tarpeia- Cinque 
 Cento had on occasions treated even the highest nobility 
 of England with a certain indifference ; and all agreed that 
 to laymen, however distinguished, her Highness was not 
 prone too easily to relax. But, in the present instance, it 
 is difficult to convey a due conception of the graciousness 
 of her demeanour when Lothair bent before her. She 
 appeared even agitated, almost rose from her seat, and 
 blushed through her rouge. Lady St. Jerome, guiding 
 Lothair into her vacant seat, walked away. 
 
 ' We shall never forget what you have done for us,' said 
 the Princess to Lothair.
 
 LOTHAIR. 335 
 
 ' I have done nothing,' said Lothair, with a surprised air. 
 
 'Ah, that is so like gifted beings like you,' said the 
 Princess. ' They never will think they have done any- 
 thing, even were they to save the world.' 
 
 ' You. are too gracious, Princess,' said Lothair ; ' I have 
 no claims to esteem which all must so value.' 
 
 ' Who has, if you have not ? ' rejoined the Princess. 
 * Yes, it is to you and to you alone that we must look. I 
 am very impartial in what I say, for, to be frank, I have 
 not been of those who believed that the great champion 
 would rise without the patrimony of St. Peter. I am 
 ashamed to say that I have even looked with jealousy on 
 the energy that has been shown by individuals in other 
 countries ; but I now confess that I was in error. I can- 
 not resist this manifestation. It is a privilege to have 
 lived when it happened. All that we can do now is to 
 cherish your favoured life.' 
 
 ' You are too kind, Madam,' murmured the perplexed 
 Lothair. 
 
 '1 have done nothing,' rejoined the Princess, 'and am 
 ashamed that I have done nothing. But it is well for you, 
 at this season, to be at Rome ; and you cannot be better, I 
 am sure, than under this roof. But when the spring 
 breaks, I hope you will honour me, by accepting for your 
 use a villa which I have at Albano, and which at that 
 season has many charms.' 
 
 There were other Roman ladies in the room only inferior 
 in rank and importance to the Princess Tarpeia-Cinque 
 Cento ; and in the course of the evening, at their earnest 
 request, they were made acquainted with Lothair, for ifc 
 cannot be said he was presented to them. These ladies, 
 generally so calm, would not wait for the ordinary cere- 
 mony of life, but, as he approached to be introduced, sank 
 to the ground with the obeisance offered only to royalty. 
 
 There were some cardinals in the apartment and several
 
 336 LOTHAIK. 
 
 monsignori. Catesby was there in close attendance on a 
 pretty English countess who had just 'gone over.' Her 
 husband had been at first very much distressed at the 
 event, and tore himself from the severe duties of the House 
 of Lords in the hope that he might yet arrive in time at 
 Rome to save her soul. But he was too late ; and, strange 
 to say, being of a domestic turn, and disliking family dis- 
 sensions, he remained at Rome during the rest of the 
 session, and finally ' went over ' himself. 
 
 Later in the evening arrived his Eminence Cardinal 
 Berwick, for our friend had gained and bravely gained the 
 great object of a churchman's ambition, and which even 
 our Laud was thinking at one time of accepting, although 
 he was to remain a firm Anglican. In the death-struggle 
 between the Church and the Secret Societies, Berwick had 
 been the victor, and no one in the Sacred College more 
 truly deserved the scarlet hat. 
 
 His Eminence had a reverence of radiant devotion for the 
 Princess Tarpeia- Cinque Cento, a glance of friendship for 
 Lady St. Jerome, for all a courtly and benignant smile ; 
 but when he recognised Lothair, he started forward, seized 
 and retained his hand, and then seemed speechless with 
 emotion. ' Ah ! my comrade in the great struggle,' he at 
 length exclaimed ; ' this is indeed a pleasure, and to see 
 you here ! ' 
 
 Early in the evening, while Lothair was sitting by the 
 side of the Princess, his eye had wandered round the room, 
 not unsuccessfully, in search of Miss Arundel ; and when 
 he was free he would immediately have approached her, but 
 she was in conversation with a Roman prince. Then when 
 she was for a moment free, he was himself engaged ; and 
 at last he had to quit abruptly a cardinal of taste, who was 
 describing to him a statue just discovered in the baths of 
 Diocletian, in order to seize the occasion that again offered 
 itself!
 
 LOTHAIK 337 
 
 Her manner was constrained when he addressed her, but 
 she gave him her hand which he pressed to his lips. Look- 
 ing deeply into her violet eyes he said, ' You summoned me 
 to meet you at Rome ; I am here.' 
 
 'And I summoned you to other things,' she answered, at 
 first with hesitation and a blush ; but then, as if rallying 
 herself to the performance of a duty too high to allow of 
 personal embarrassment, she added, ' all of which you will 
 perform, as becomes one favoured by Heaven.' 
 
 * I have been favoured by you,' said Lothair, speaking 
 low and hurriedly ; ' to whom I owe my life and more than 
 my life. Yes,' he continued, ' this is not the scene I 
 would have chosen to express my gratitude to you for all 
 that you have done for me, and my admiration of your sub- 
 lime virtues ; but I can no longer repress the feelings of 
 my heart, though their utterance be as inadequate as your 
 deeds have been transcendent.' 
 
 ' I was but the instrument of a higher Power.' 
 
 ' We are all instruments of a higher Power, but the in- 
 struments chosen are always choice.' 
 
 ' Ay ! there it is,' said Miss Arundel ; ' and that is what 
 I rejoice you feel. For it is impossible that such a selection 
 could have been made, as in your case, without your being 
 reserved for great results.' 
 
 ' I am but a shattered actor for great results,' said 
 Lothair, shaking his head. 
 
 ' You have had trials,' said Miss Arundel ; ' so had St. 
 Ignatius, so had St. Francis, and great temptations ; but 
 these are the tests of character, of will, of spiritual power : 
 the fine gold is searched. All things that have happened 
 have tended and been ordained to one end, and that was to 
 make you the champion of the Church of which you are 
 now more than the child.' 
 
 ' More than the child ? ' 
 
 * Indeed I think so. However, this is hardly the place 
 
 z
 
 338 LOTHAIB. 
 
 and occasion to dwell on such matters ; and, indeed, I knew 
 your friends, my friends equally, are desirous that yonr 
 convalescence should not be unnecessarily disturbed by 
 what must be, however delightful, still agitating thoughts; 
 but you touched yourself unexpectedly on the theme, ani 
 at any rate you will pardon one who has the inconvenient 
 quality of having only one thought.' 
 
 ' Whatever you say or think must always interest me.' 
 ' You are kind to say so. I suppose you know that our 
 Cardinal, Cardinal Grandison, will be here in a few days ? ' 
 
 CHAPTER LX1V. 
 
 ALTHOUGH the reception of Lothair by his old friends and 
 by the leaders of the Roman world was in the highest 
 degree nattering, there was something in its tone which 
 was perplexing to him and ambiguous. Could they be 
 ignorant of his Italian antecedents ? Impossible. Miss 
 Arundel had admitted, or rather declared, that he had ex- 
 perienced great trials, and even temptations. She could 
 only allude to what had occurred since their parting in 
 England. Bat all this was now looked upon as satis- 
 factory, because it was ordained, and tended to one end ; 
 and what was that end ? His devotion to the Church of 
 Rome, of which they admitted he was not formally a child. 
 It was true that his chief companion was a priest, and 
 that he passed a great portion of his life within the walls 
 of a church. But the priest was his familiar friend in 
 England, who in a foreign land had nursed him with devo- 
 tion in a desperate illness ; and although in the great 
 calamities, physical and moral, that had overwhelmed him, 
 he had found solace in the beautiful services of a religion 
 which he respected, no one for a moment had taken ad-
 
 LOTH AIR. 339 
 
 vantage of this mood of his suffering and enfeebled mind 
 to entrap him into controversy, or to betray him, into 
 admissions that he might afterwards consider precipitate 
 and immature. Indeed nothing could be more delicate 
 than the conduct of the Jesuit fathers throughout his com- 
 munications with them. They seemed sincerely gratified 
 that a suffering fellow-creature should find even temporary 
 consolation within their fair and consecrated structure ; 
 their voices modulated with sympathy ; their glances 
 gushed with fraternal affection ; their affectionate polite- 
 ness contrived, in a thousand slight instances, the selection 
 of a mass, the arrangement of a picture, the loan of a 
 book, to contribute to the interesting or elegant distraction 
 of his forlorn and brooding being. 
 
 And yet Lothair began to feel uneasy, and his uneasiness 
 increased proportionately as his health improved. He 
 sometimes thought that he should Like to make an effort 
 and get about a Little in the world ; but he was very weak, 
 and without any of the resources to which he had been 
 accustomed throughout life. He had no servants of his 
 own, no carriages, no man of business, no banker; and 
 when at last he tried to bring himself to write to Mr. 
 Putney Giles, a painful task, Monsignore Catesby offered 
 to undertake his whole correspondence for him, and an- 
 nounced that his medical attendants had declared that he 
 must under no circumstances whatever attempt at present 
 to write a letter. Hitherto he had been without money, 
 which was lavishly supplied for his physicians and other 
 wants ; and he would have been without clothes if the 
 most fashionable tailor in Rome, a German, had not been 
 in frequent attendance on him under the direction of 
 Monsignore Catesby, who in fact had organised his ward- 
 robe as he did everything else. 
 
 Somehow or other Lothair never seemed alone. When 
 he woke in the morning the Monsignore was frequently 
 
 i 2
 
 340 LOTKAIR. 
 
 kneeling before an oratory in his room, and if by any 
 chance Lothair was wanting at Lady St. Jerome's re- 
 ception, Father Coleman, who was now on a visit to the 
 family, would look in and pass the evening with him, as 
 men who keep a gaming table find it discreet occasionally 
 to change the dealer. It is a huge and even stupendous 
 pile, that Palazzo Agostini, and yet Lothair never tried to 
 thread his way through its vestibules and galleries, or 
 attempt a reconnaissance of its endless chambers without 
 some monsignore or other gliding up quite apropos, and 
 relieving him from the dulness of solitary existence during 
 the rest of his promenade. 
 
 Lothair was relieved by hearing that his former guardian, 
 Cardinal Grandison, was daily expected at Rome ; and he 
 revolved in his mind whether he should not speak to his 
 Eminence generally on the system of his life, which he felt 
 now required some modification. In the interval, however, 
 no change did occur. Lothair attended every day the 
 services of the church, and every evening the receptions of 
 Lady St. Jerome ; and between the discharge of these two 
 duties he took a drive with a priest, sometimes with more 
 thau one, but always most agreeable men, generally in the 
 environs of the city, or visited a convent, or a villa, some 
 beautiful gardens, or a gallery of works of art. 
 
 It was at Lady St. Jerome's that Lothair met his former 
 guardian. The Cardinal had only arrived in the morning. 
 His manner to Lothair was affectionate. He retained 
 Lothair's hand and pressed it with his pale, thin fingers ; 
 his attenuated countenance blazed for a moment with a 
 divine light. 
 
 ' I have long wished to see you, sir,' said Lothair, ' and 
 much wish to talk with you.' 
 
 ' I can hear nothing from you nor of you but what must 
 be most pleasing to me,' said the Cardinal. 
 
 1 1 wish I could believe that,' said Lothair.
 
 LOTHAIE. 3-il 
 
 The Cardinal caressed him ; put his arm round Lothair's 
 neck and said, ' There is no time like the present. Let us 
 walk together in this gallery,' and they withdrew naturally 
 from the immediate scene. 
 
 'You know all that has happened, I daresay,' said 
 Lothair with embarrassment and with a sigh, ' since we 
 parted in England, sir.' 
 
 ' All,' said the Cardinal. ' It has been a most striking 
 and merciful dispensation.' 
 
 ' Then I need not dwell upon it,' said Lothair, ' and 
 naturally it would be most painful. What I wish particn 
 larly to speak to you about is my position under this roof. 
 What I owe to those who dwell under it no language can 
 describe, and no efforts on my part, and they shall be un- 
 ceasing, can repay. But I think the time has come when 
 I ought no longer to trespass on their affectionate devotion, 
 though, when I allude to the topic, they seem to mis- 
 interpret the motives which influence me, and to be pained 
 rather than relieved by my suggestions. I cannot bear 
 being looked upon as ungrateful, when in fact I am devoted 
 to them. I think, sir, you might help me in putting all 
 this right.' 
 
 ' If it be necessary,' said the Cardinal ; ' but I apprehend 
 you misconceive them. When I last left Rome you werf 
 very ill, but Lady St. Jerome and others have written to 
 me almost daily about you during my absence, so that I 
 am familiar with all that has occurred, and quite cognisant 
 of their feelings. Rest assured that, towards yourself, 
 they are exactly what they ought to be and Avhat you 
 would desire.' 
 
 ' Well I am glad,' said Lothair, ' that you are acquainted 
 with everything that has happened, for you can put them 
 right if it be necessary ; but I sometimes cannot help 
 fancying that they are under some false impression both 
 as to my conduct and my convictions.'
 
 342 LOTHAIE. 
 
 ' Not in the slightest,' said the Cardinal, ' trust me, my 
 dear friend, for that. They know everything and appre- 
 ciate everything ; and great as, no doubt, have been your 
 sufferings, feel that everything has been ordained for the 
 best ; that the hand of the Almighty has been visible 
 throughout all these strange events ; that Has Church was 
 never more clearly built upon a rock than at this moment ; 
 that this great manifestation will revive, and even restore, 
 the faith of Christendom ; and that you yourself must be 
 looked upon as one of the most favoured of men.' 
 
 4 Everybody says that,' said Lothair rather peevishly. 
 
 ' And everybody feels it,' said the Cardinal. 
 
 ' Well, to revert to lesser points,' said Lothair. ' I do not 
 say I want to return to England, for I dread returning to 
 England, and do not know whether I shall ever go back 
 there ; and at any rate I doubt not my health at present is 
 unequal to the effort ; but I should like some change in my 
 mode of life. I will not say it is too much controlled, for 
 nothing seems ever done without first consulting me ; but, 
 some how or other, we are always in the same groove. I 
 wish to see more of the world ; I wish to see Rome, and 
 the people of Rome. I wish to see and do many things 
 which, if I mention, it would seem to hurt the feelings of 
 others, and my own are misconceived, but if mentioned by 
 yon all would probably be different.' 
 
 ' I understand you, my dear young friend, my child, I 
 will still say,' said the Cardinal. ' Nothing can be more 
 reasonable than what you suggest. No doubt our friends 
 may be a little too anxious about you, but they are the 
 best people in the world. You appear to me to be quite 
 well enough now to make more exertion than hitherto they 
 have thought you capable of. They see you every day, and 
 cannot judge so well of you as I who have been absent. I 
 will charge myself to effect all your wishes. And we will 
 begin by my taking you out to-morrow and your driving
 
 LOTEAIR. 343 
 
 with me about the city. I will show you Rome and the 
 Roman people.' 
 
 Accordingly, on the morrow, Cardinal Grandison and his 
 late pupil visited together Rome and the Romans. And first 
 of all Lothair was presented to the Cardinal Prefect of the 
 Propaganda, who presides over the ecclesiastical affairs of 
 every country in which the Roman Church has a mission, 
 and that includes every land between the Arctic and the 
 Southern Pole. This glimpse of the organised correspond- 
 ence with both the Americas, all Asia, all Africa, all 
 Australia, and many European countries, carried on by a 
 countless staff of clerks in one of the most capacious build- 
 ings in the world, was calculated to impress the visitor 
 with a due idea of the extensive authority of the Roman 
 Pontiff. This institution, greater, according to the Car- 
 dinal, than any which existed in ancient Rome, was to 
 propagate the faith, the purity of which the next establish- 
 ment they visited was to maintain. According to Cardinal 
 Grtndi8on there never was a body the character of which 
 had been so wilfully and so malignantly misrepresented as 
 that of the Roman Inquisition. Its true object is reforma- 
 tion not punishment, and therefore pardon was sure to 
 follow the admission of error. True it was there were 
 revolting stories afloat, for which there was undoubtedly 
 some foundation, though their exaggeration and malice 
 were evident, of the ruthless conduct of the Inquisition ; 
 but these details were entirely confined to Spain, and were 
 the consequences not of the principles of the Holy Office, 
 but of the Spanish race, poisoned by Moorish and Jewish 
 blood, or by long contact with those inhuman infidels. 
 Had it not been for the Inquisition organising and direct- 
 ing the mitigating influences of the Church, Spain would 
 have been a land of wild beasts ; and even in quite modern 
 times it was the Holy Office at Rome which always stepped 
 forward to protect the persecuted, and, by the power of
 
 344 LOTHAIR. 
 
 appeal from Madrid to Rome, saved the lives of those who 
 were unjustly or extravagantly accused. 
 
 ' The real business however of the Holy Office now,' 
 continued the Cardinal, ' is in reality only doctrinal ; and 
 there is something truly sublime, essentially divine, I would 
 say, in this idea of an old man, like the Holy Father, him- 
 self the object of ceaseless persecution by all the children 
 of Satan, never for a moment relaxing his heaven-inspired 
 efforts to maintain the purity of the faith once delivered to 
 the Saints, and at the same time to propagate it through- 
 out the whole world, so that there should be no land on 
 which the sun shines that should not afford means of salva- 
 tion to suffering man. Yes, the Propaganda and the In- 
 quisition alone are sufficient to vindicate the sacred claims 
 of Rome. Compared with them mere secular and human 
 institutions, however exalted, sink into insignificance.' 
 
 These excursions with the Cardinal were not only re- 
 peated, but became almost of daily occurrence. The Car- 
 dinal took Lothair with him in his visits of business, and 
 introduced him to the eminent characters of the city. 
 Some of these priests were illustrious scholars, or votaries 
 of science, whose names were quoted with respect and as 
 authority in the circles of cosmopolitan philosophy. Then 
 there were other institutions at Rome, which the Cardinal 
 snatched occasions to visit, and which, if not so awfully 
 venerable as the Propaganda and the Inquisition, never- 
 theless testified to the advanced civilisation of Rome and 
 the Romans, and the enlightened administration of tho 
 Holy Father. According to Cardinal Grandison, all the 
 great modern improvements in the administration of hos- 
 pitals and prisons originated in the eternal city ; scientific 
 ventilation, popular lavatories, the cellular or silent system, 
 the reformatory. And yet these were nothing compared 
 with the achievements of the Pontifical Government in 
 education. In short, complete popular education only
 
 LOTHAIR. 345 
 
 existed at Rome. Its schools were more numerous even 
 than its fountains. Gratuitous instruction originated with 
 the ecclesiastics ; and from the night school to the uni- 
 versity here might be found the perfect type. 
 
 ' I really believe,' said the Cardinal, * that a more vir- 
 tuous, a more religious, a more happy and contented people 
 than the Romans never existed. They could all be kept 
 in order with the police of one of your counties. True it is 
 the Holy Father is obliged to garrison the city with twelve 
 thousand men of all arms, but not against the Romans, not 
 against his own subjects. It is the Secret Societies of 
 Atheism who have established their lodges in this city, 
 entirely consisting of foreigners, that render these lament- 
 able precautions necessary. They will not rest until they 
 have extirpated the religious principle from the soul of man, 
 and until they have reduced him to the condition of wild 
 beasts. But they will fail, as they failed the other day, as 
 Sennacherib failed. These men may conquer Zouaves and 
 Cuirassiers, but they cannot fight against Saint Michael 
 and all the Angels. They may do mischief, they may 
 aggravate and prolong the misery of man, but they are 
 doomed to entire and eternal failure.' 
 
 CHAPTER LXV. 
 
 LADY ST. JEROME was much interested in the accounts 
 which the Cardinal and Lothair gave her of their excursions 
 in the city and their visits. 
 
 4 It is very true,' she said, ' I ever knew such good 
 people ; and they ought to be ; so favoured by Heaven, and 
 leading a life which, if anything earthly can, must give 
 them, however faint, some foretaste of our joys hereafter. 
 Did your Eminence visit the Pellegrini ? ' This was the 
 hospital where Miss Arundel had found Lothair.
 
 346 LOTHAIR. 
 
 The Cardinal looked grave. ' No,' lie replied. ' My 
 object was to secure for our young friend some interesting 
 but not agitating distraction from certain ideas which, 
 however admirable and transcendently important, are 
 nevertheless too high and profound to permit their constant 
 contemplation with impunity to our infirm natures. Be- 
 sides,' he added, in a lower, but still distinct tone, I was 
 myself unwilling to visit in a mere casual manner the scene 
 of what I must consider the greatest event of this century.' 
 
 ' But you have been there ? ' enquired Lady St. Jerome. 
 
 His Eminence crossed himself. 
 
 In the course of the evening Monsignore Catesby told 
 Lothair that a grand service was about to be celebrated at 
 the church of St. George : thanks were to be offered to the 
 Blessed Virgin by Miss Arundel for the miraculous mercy 
 vouchsafed to her in saving the life of a countryman, 
 Lothair. ' All her friends will make a point of being there,' 
 added the Monsignore, ' even the Protestants and some 
 Russians. Miss Arundel was very unwilling at first to 
 fulfil this office, but the Holy Father has commanded it. I 
 know that nothing will induce her to ask you to attend ; 
 and yet, if I were you, I would turn it over in your mind. 
 I know she said that she would sooner that you were pre- 
 sent than all her English friends together. However, you 
 can think about it. One likes to do what is proper.' 
 
 One does ; and yet it is difficult. Sometimes in doing 
 what we think proper, we get into irremediable scrapes ; 
 and often, what we hold to be proper, society in its caprice 
 resolves to be highly improper. 
 
 Lady St. Jerome had wished Lotihair to see Tivoli, and 
 they were all consulting together when they might go there. 
 Lord St. Jerome who, besides his hunters, had his drag at 
 Rome, wanted to drive them to the place. Lothair sate 
 opposite Miss Arundel, gazing on her beauty. It was like 
 being at Vauxe agv" And yet a great deal had happened
 
 LOTHAIR. 347 
 
 since they were at Vauxe ; and what ? So far as they two 
 were concerned, nothing but what should create or confirm 
 relations of confidence and affection. Whatever may have 
 been the influence of others on his existence, hers at least 
 had been one of infinite benignity. She had saved his life, 
 she had cherished it. She had raised him from the lowest 
 depth of physical and moral prostration to health and com- 
 parative serenity. If at Vanxe he had beheld her with ad- 
 miration, had listened with fascinated interest to the fervid 
 expression of her saintly thoughts, and the large purposes 
 of her heroic mind, all these feelings were naturally height- 
 ened now when he had witnessed her lofty and consecrated 
 spirit in action, and when that action in his own case had 
 only been exercised for his ineffable advantage. 
 
 ' Your uncle cannot go to-morrow,' continued Lady St. 
 Jerome, ' and on Thursday I am engaged.' 
 
 ' And on Friday ' said Miss Arundel, hesitating. 
 
 ' We are all engaged,' said Lady St. Jerome. 
 
 ' I should hardly wish to go out before Friday anywhere,' 
 said Miss Arundel, speaking to her aunt, and in a lower 
 tone. 
 
 Friday was the day on which the thanksgiving service 
 was to be celebrated in the Jesuit church of St. George of 
 Cappadocia. Lothair knew this well enough and was em- 
 barrassed : a thanksgiving for the mercy vouchsafed to 
 Miss Arundel in saving the life of a fellow-countryman, 
 and that fellow-countryman not present ! All her Pro- 
 lestant friends would be there, and some Russians. And 
 he not there ! It seemed, on his part, the most ungracious 
 and intolerable conduct. And he knew that she would 
 prefer his presence to that of all her acquaintances together. 
 It was more than ungracious on his part ; it was un- 
 grateful, almost inhuman. 
 
 Lothair sate silent, and stupid, and stiff, and dissatisfied 
 with himself. Once or twice he tried to speak, but hia
 
 348 LOTH A JR. 
 
 tongue would not move, or his throat was not clear. And 
 if lie had spoken, he would only have made some trifling 
 and awkward remark. In his mind's eye he saw, gliding 
 about him, the veiled figure of his sick room, and he 
 recalled with clearness the unceasing and angelic tender- 
 ness of which at the time he seemed hardly conscious. 
 
 Miss Arundel had risen and had proceeded some way 
 down the room to a cabinet where she was accustomed to 
 place her work. Suddenly Lothair rose and followed her. 
 ' Miss Arundel ! ' he said, and she looked round, hardly 
 stopping when he had reached her. 'Miss Arundel, I 
 hope you will permit me to be present at the celebration on 
 .Friday ? ' 
 
 She turned round quickly, extending, even eagerly, her 
 hand with mantling cheek. Her eyes glittered with celestial 
 fire. The words hurried from her palpitating lips : ' And 
 support me,' she said, ' for I need support.' 
 
 In the evening reception, Monsignore Catesby approached 
 Father Coleman. ' It is done,' he said, with a look of 
 saintly triumph. ' It is done at last. He will not only be 
 present, but he will support her. There are yet eight and 
 forty hours to elapse. Can anything happen to defeat us ? 
 It would seem not ; yet when so much is at stake, one is 
 fearful. He must never be out of our sight ; not a human 
 being must approach him.' 
 
 ' I think we can manage that,' said Father Coleman.
 
 LOTHAIE. 349 
 
 CHAPTER LXVL 
 
 THE Jesuit church of St. George of Cappadocia was situate 
 in one of the finest piazzas of Borne. It was surrounded 
 with arcades, and in its centre the most beautiful fountain 
 of the city spouted forth its streams to an amazing height, 
 and in forms of graceful fancy. On Friday morning the 
 arcades were festooned with tapestry and hangings of 
 crimson velvet and gold. Every part was crowded, and 
 all the rank and fashion and power of Rome seemed to be 
 there assembling. There had been once some intention on 
 the part of the Holy Father to be present, but a slight 
 indisposition bad rendered that not desirable. His Holiness, 
 however, had ordered a company of his halberdiers to attend, 
 and the ground was kept by those wonderful guards in the 
 dress of the middle ages ; halberds and ruffs, and white 
 plumes, and party-coloured coats, a match for our beef- 
 eaters. Carriages with scarlet umbrellas on the box, and 
 each with three serving men behind, denoted the presence 
 of the cardinals in force. They were usually brilliant 
 equipages, being sufficiently new, or sufficiently new pur- 
 chases, Garibaldi and the late commanding officer of Lothair 
 having burnt most of the ancient coaehes in the time of 
 the Roman Republic twenty years before. From each 
 carriage an eminence descended with his scarlet cap and 
 his purple train borne by two attendants. The Princess 
 Tarpeia-Cinque Cento was there, and most of the Roman 
 princes and princesses and dukes and duchesses. It seemed 
 that the whole court of Rome was there ; monsignori anjd 
 prelates without end. Some of their dresses, and those of 
 the generals of the orders, appropriately varied the general 
 effect, for the ladies were all in black, their heads covered 
 only with black veils.
 
 350 LOTHAIR. 
 
 Monsignore Catesby had arranged with Lothair that 
 they should enter the church by their usual private way, 
 and Lothair therefore was not in any degree prepared for 
 the sight which awaited him on his entrance into it. The 
 church was crowded ; not a chair nor a tribune vacant. 
 There was a suppressed gossip going on as in a public 
 place before a performance begins, much fluttering of fans, 
 some snuff taken, and many sugar plums. 
 
 ' Where shall we find a place ? ' said Lothair. 
 
 4 They expect us in the sacristy,' said the Monsignore. 
 
 The sacristy of the Jesuit church of St. George of 
 Cappadocia might have served for the ball-room of a palace. 
 It was lofty and proportionately spacious, with a grooved 
 ceiling painted with all the court of heaven. Above the 
 broad and richly gilt cornice floated a company of Seraphim 
 that might have figured as the Cupids of Albano. The 
 apartment was crowded, for there and in some adjoining 
 chambers were assembled the cardinals and prelates, and 
 all the distinguished or official characters, who, in a few 
 , minutes, were about to form a procession of almost un- 
 equalled splendour and sanctity, and which was to parade 
 the whole body of the church. 
 
 Lothair felt nervous ; an indefinable depression came over 
 him, as on the morning of a contest when a candidate enters 
 his crowded committee-room. Considerable personages 
 bowing, approached to address him : the Cardinal Prefect 
 of the Propaganda, the Cardinal Assessor of the Holy 
 Office, the Cardinal Pro-Datario, and the Cardinal Vicar of 
 Rome. Monsignori the Secretary of Briefs to Princes 
 and the Master of the Apostolic Palace were presented to 
 him. Had this been a conclave, and Lothair the future 
 Pope, it would have been impossible to have treated him 
 with more consideration than he experienced. They assured 
 him that they looked upon this day as one of the most in- 
 teresting in their lives, and the importance of which to the
 
 LOTHAIR. 351 
 
 Church could not be overrated. All this somewhat en- 
 couraged him, and he was more himself when a certain 
 general stir, and the entrance of individuals from adjoining 
 apartments, intimated that the proceedings were about to 
 commence. It seemed difficult to marshal so considerable 
 and so stately an assemblage, but those who had the 
 management of affairs were experienced in such matters. 
 The acolytes and the thurifers fell into their places ; there 
 seemed no end of banners and large golden crosses ; great 
 was the company of the prelates, a long purple line, some 
 only in cassocks, some in robes, and mitred ; then came a 
 new banner of the Blessed Virgin, which excited intense 
 interest, and every eye was strained to catch the pictured 
 scene. After this banner, amid frequent incense, walked 
 two of the most beautiful children in Rome, dressed as 
 angels with golden wings ; the boy bearing a rose of 
 Jericho, the girl a lily. After these, as was understood, 
 dressed in black and veiled, walked six ladies, who were 
 said to be daughters of the noblest houses of England, 
 and then a single form with a veil touching the ground. 
 
 4 Here we must go,' said Monsignore Catesby to Lothair, 
 and he gently but irresistibly guided him into his place. 
 ' You know you promised to support her. You had better 
 take this,' he said, placing a lighted taper in his hand ; 
 ' it is usual, and one should never be singular.' 
 
 So they walked on, followed by the Roman princes, 
 bearing a splendid baldachin. And then came the pomp of 
 the cardinals, each with his train-bearers, exhibiting with 
 the skill of artists the splendour of their violet robes. 
 
 As the bead of the procession emerged from the sa- 
 cristy into the church, three organs and a choir, to which 
 all the Roman churches had lent their choicest voices, 
 burst into the Te Deum. Round the church and to all the 
 chapels, and then up the noble nave, the majestic proces- 
 sion moved, and then the gates of the holy place opening,
 
 352 LOTHAIR. 
 
 i 
 
 the cardinals entered and seated themselves, their train- 
 bearers crouching at their knees, the prelates grouped 
 themselves, and the banners and crosses were ranged in 
 the distance, except the new banner of the Virgin, which 
 seemed to hang over the altar. The Holy One seemed 
 to be in what was recently a field of battle, and was 
 addressing a beautiful maiden in the dress of a Sister of 
 Mercy. 
 
 ' This is your place,' said Monsignore Catesby, and he 
 guided Lothair into a prominent position. 
 
 The service was long, but sustained by exquisite music, 
 celestial perfumes, and the graceful movements of priests 
 in resplendent dresses continually changing, it could not be 
 said to be wearisome. When all was over, Monsignore 
 Catesby said to Lothair, ' I think we had better return by 
 the public way ; it seems expected.' 
 
 It was not easy to leave the church. Lothair was de- 
 tained, and received the congratulations of the Princess 
 Tarpeia- Cinque Cento and many others. The crowd, much 
 excited by the carriages of the cardinals, had not dimin- 
 ished when they came forth, and they were obliged to 
 linger some little time upon the steps, the Monsignore 
 making difficulties when Lothair more than once proposed 
 to advance. 
 
 ' I think we may go now,' said Catesby, and they de- 
 bcended into the piazza. Immediately many persons in 
 their immediate neighbourhood fell upon their knees, many 
 asked a blessing from Lothair, and some rushed forward to 
 kiss the hem of his garment.
 
 LOTHAIE. 353 
 
 CHAPTER LXVH. 
 
 THE Princess Tarpeia- Cinque Cento gave an entertain, 
 ment in the evening in honour of ' the great event.' Italian 
 palaces are so vast, are so ill-adapted to the moderate es- 
 tablishments of modern times, that their grand style in 
 general only impresses those who visit them with a feeling 
 of disappointment and even mortification. The meagre 
 retinue are almost invisible as they creep about the corri- 
 dors and galleries, and linger in the sequence of lofty 
 chambers. These should be filled with crowds of serving 
 men and groups of splendid retainers. They were built 
 for the days when a great man was obliged to have a great 
 following ; and when the safety of his person, as well as 
 the success of his career, depended on the number and the 
 lustre of his train. 
 
 The palace of the Princess Tarpeia was the most cele- 
 brated in Borne, one of the most ancient, and certainly the 
 most beautiful. She dwelt in it in a manner not unworthy 
 of her consular blood and hei- modern income. To-night 
 her guests were received by a long line of foot servants in 
 showy liveries, and bearing the badge of her house, while 
 in every convenient spot pages and gentlemen ushers in 
 courtly dress guided the guests to their place of destina- 
 tion. The palace blazed with light, and showed to advan- 
 tage the thousand pictures which, it is said, were there 
 enshrined, and the long galleries full of the pale statues of 
 Grecian gods and goddesses and the busts of the former 
 rulers of Rome and the Romans. The atmosphere was, 
 fragrant with rare odours, and music was heard amid the 
 fall of fountains in the dim but fancifully illumined gar- 
 dens. 
 
 The Princess herself wore all those famous jewels whiob 
 
 A A
 
 354 LOTHAIR 
 
 had been spared by all the Goths from the days of Brennus 
 to those of Garibaldi, and on her bosom reposed the cele- 
 brated transparent cameo of Augustus, which Caesar him- 
 self is said to have presented to Livia, and which Benve- 
 nuto Cellini had set in a framework of Cupids and rubies. 
 If the weight of her magnificence were sometimes distress- 
 ing, she had the consolation of being supported by the arm 
 of Lothair. 
 
 Two young Roman princes, members of the Guardia 
 Nobile, discussed the situation. 
 
 ' The English here say,' said one, ' that he is their richest 
 man.' 
 
 ' And very noble, too,' said the other. 
 
 ' Certainly, truly noble ; a kind of cousin of the Queen.' 
 
 ' This great event must have an effect upon all their 
 nobility. I cannot doubt they will all return to the Holy 
 Father.' 
 
 * They would if they were not afraid of having to restore 
 their church lands. But they would be much more happy 
 if Rome were again the capital of the world.' 
 
 'No shadow of doubt. I wonder if this young prince 
 will hunt in the Campagna ? ' 
 
 ' All Englishmen hunt.' 
 
 ' I make no doubt he rides well, and has famous horses 
 and will sometimes lend us one. I am glad his soul is 
 saved.' 
 
 ' Yes ; it is well, when the Blessed Virgin interferes, it 
 should be in favour of princes. When princes become 
 good Christians it is an example. It does good. And this 
 man will give an impulse to our opera, which wants it, 
 and, as you say, he will have many horses.' 
 
 In the course of the evening Miss Arundel, with a beam- 
 ing face but of deep expression, said to Lothair, ' I could 
 tell you some good news had I not promised the Cardinal 
 that he should communicate it to you himself. He will see
 
 LOTHATR. 355 
 
 yon to-morrow. Although it does not affect me personally, 
 it will be to me the happiest event that ever occurred, ex- 
 cept, of course, one.' 
 
 ' What can she mean ? ' thought Lothair. But at that 
 moment Cardinal Berwick approached him, and Miss 
 Arundel glided away. 
 
 Father Coleman attended Lothair home to the Agostini 
 Palace, and when they parted said with much emphasis, 
 ' I must congratulate you once more on the great event.' 
 
 On the following morning, Lothair found on his table a 
 number of the Roman journal published that day. It was 
 customary to place it there, but in general he only glanced 
 at it, and scarcely that. On the present occasion his own 
 name caught immediately his eye. It figured in a long 
 account of the celebration of the preceding day. It .was 
 with a continually changing countenance, now scarlet, now 
 pallid as death; with a palpitating heart, a trembling 
 hand, a cold perspiration, and at length a disordered vision, 
 that Lothair read the whole of an article, of which we now 
 give a summary : 
 
 ' Rome was congratulated on the service of yesterday, 
 which celebrated the greatest event of this century. And 
 it came to pass in this wise. It seems that a young En- 
 glish noble, of the highest rank, family, and fortune (and 
 here the name and titles of Lothair were accurately given), 
 like many of the scions of the illustrious and influential 
 families of Britain, was impelled by an irresistible motive 
 to enlist as a volunteer in the service of the Pope, when 
 the Holy Father was recently attacked by the Secret 
 Societies of Atheism. This gallant and gifted youth, after 
 prodigies of valour and devotion, had fallen at Mentana in 
 the sacred cause, and was given up for lost. The day 
 after the battle, when the ambulances laden with the 
 wounded were hourly arriving at Rome from the field, an 
 English lady, daughter of an illustrious house, celebrated 
 
 A. A3
 
 356 LOTHAIB. 
 
 throughout centuries for its devotion to the Holy See, and 
 who during the present awful trial had never ceased in 
 her efforts to support the cause of Christianity, was em- 
 ployed, as was her wont, in offices of charity, and was 
 tending with her companion sisters her wounded country - 
 men at the hospital La Consolazione, in the new ward 
 which has been recently added to that establishment by 
 the Holy Father. 
 
 ' While she was leaning over one of the beds, she felt a 
 gentle and peculiar pressure on her shoulder, and, looking 
 round, beheld a most beautiful woman, with a countenance 
 of singular sweetness and yet majesty. And the visitor 
 said, " You are attending to those English who believe in 
 the Virgin Mary. Now at the Hospital Santissima Trinita 
 di Pellegrini there is in an ambulance a young Englishman 
 apparently dead, but who will not die if you go to him 
 immediately and say you came in the name of the Virgin." 
 
 ' The influence of the stranger was so irresistible that 
 the young English lady, attended by a nurse and one of 
 the porters of La Consolazione, repaired instantly to the 
 Di Pellegrini, and there they found in the courtyard, as 
 they had been told, an ambulance, in form and colour and 
 equipment unlike any ambulance used by the papal troops, 
 and in the ambulance the senseless body of a youth, who 
 was recognised by the English lady as her young and 
 gallant countryman. She claimed him in the name of 
 the Blessed Virgin, and, after due remedies, was permitted 
 to take him at once to his noble relatives, who lived in the 
 Palazzo Agostini. 
 
 ' After a short time much conversation began to circulate 
 about this incident. The family wished to testify their 
 gratitude to the individual whose information had led to 
 the recovery of the body, and subsequently of the life of 
 their relation ; but all that they could at first learn at La Con- 
 eolazione was, that tho porter believed the woman was Maria
 
 LOTHAIR. 357 
 
 Serafina di Angelis, the handsome wife of a tailor in the 
 Strada di Eipetta. But it was soon shown that this could 
 not be true, for it was proved that, on the day in question, 
 Maria Serafina di Angelis was on a visit to a friend at La 
 Riccia ; and, in the second place, that she did not bear the 
 slightest resemblance to the stranger who had given the 
 news. Moreover, the porter of the gate being required, to 
 state why he had admitted any stranger without the accus- 
 tomed order, denied that he had so done ; that he was in 
 his lodge and the gates were locked, and the stranger had 
 passed through without his knowledge. 
 
 ' Two priests were descending the stairs when the stran- 
 ger came upon them, and they were so struck by the pecu- 
 liarity of her carriage, that they turned round and looked 
 at her, and clearly observed at the back of her head a sort 
 of halo. She was out of their sight while they were making 
 this observation, but in consequence of it they made en- 
 quiries of the porter of the gate, and remained in the court- 
 yard till she returned. 
 
 ' This she did a few minutes before the English lady and 
 her attendants came down, as they had been detained by 
 the preparation of some bandages and other remedies, 
 without which they never moved. The porter of the gate 
 having his attention called to the circumstance by the 
 priests, was most careful in his observations as to the halo, 
 and described it as distinct. The priests then followed the 
 stranger, who proceeded down a long and solitary street, 
 made up in a great degree of garden and convent walls, 
 and without a turning. They observed her stop and speak 
 to two children, and then, though there was no house to 
 enter and no street to turn into, she vanished. 
 
 ' When they had reached the children they found each of 
 them holding in its hand a beautiful flower. It seems the 
 lady had given the boy a rose of Jericho, and to his sister 
 a white and golden lily. Enquiring whether she had
 
 358 LOTHAIB. 
 
 spoken to them, they answered that she had said, " Let 
 these flowers be kept in remembrance of me ; they will 
 never fade." And truly, though months had elapsed, these 
 flowers had never faded, and, after the procession of yester- 
 day, they were placed under crystal in the chapel of the 
 Blessed Virgin in the Jesuit church of St. George of 
 Oappadocia, and may be seen every day, and will be seen 
 for ever in primeval freshness. 
 
 ' This is the truthful account of what really occurred 
 with respect to this memorable event, and as it was ascer- 
 tained by a Consulta of the Holy Office, presided over by 
 the Cardinal Prefect himself. The Holy Office is most 
 severe in its inquisition of the truth, and though it well 
 knows that the Divine presence never leaves His Church, 
 it is most scrupulous in its investigations whenever any 
 miraculous interposition is alleged. It was entirely by its 
 exertions that the somewhat inconsistent and unsatisfactory 
 evidence of the porter of the gate, in the first instance, was 
 explained, cleared, and established ; the whole chain of 
 evidence worked out ; all idle gossip and mere rumours 
 rejected ; and the evidence obtained of above twenty wit- 
 nesses of all ranks of life, some of them members of the 
 learned profession, a^id others military officers of undoubted 
 honour and veracity, who witnessed the first appearance of 
 the stranger at the Pellegrini, and the undoubted fact of 
 the halo playing round her temples. 
 
 ' The Consulta of the Holy Office could only draw one 
 inference, sanctioned by the Holy Father himself, as to the 
 character of the personage who thus deigned to appear 
 and interpose ; and no wonder that in the great function 
 of yesterday, the eyes of all Rome were fixed upon Lothair 
 as the most favoured of living men.' 
 
 He himself now felt as one sinking into an unfathomable 
 abyss. The despair came over him that involves a man 
 engaged in a hopeless contest with a remorseless power.
 
 LOTHAIE. 359 
 
 A.11 his life during the last year passed rushingly across his 
 mind. He recalled the wiles that had been employed to 
 induce him to attend a function in a Jesuits' chapel in an 
 obscure nook of London ; the same agencies had been em- 
 ployed there ; then, as now, the influence of Clare Arundel 
 had been introduced to sway him when all others had 
 failed. Belmont had saved him then. There was no 
 Belmont now. The last words of Theodora murmured in 
 his ear like the awful voice of a distant sea. They were th& 
 diapason of all the thought and feeling of that profound 
 and passionate spirit. 
 
 That seemed only a petty plot in London, and he had 
 since sometimes smiled when he remembered how it had 
 been baffled. Shallow apprehension ! The petty plot was 
 only part of a great and unceasing and triumphant con- 
 spiracy, and the obscure and inferior agencies which he 
 had been rash enough to deride had consummated their 
 commanded purpose in the eyes of all Europe, and with 
 the aid of the great powers of the world. 
 
 He felt all the indignation natural to a sincere and high- 
 spirited man, who finds that he has been befooled by those 
 whom he has trusted ; but summoning all his powers to 
 extricate himself from his desolate dilemma, he found him- 
 self without resource. What public declaration on his part 
 could alter the undeniable fact, now circulating throughout 
 the world, that in the supernatural scene of yesterday 
 he was the willing and the principal actor ? Unquestion- 
 ably he had been very imprudent, not only in that instance 
 but in his habitual visits to the church ; he felt all that 
 now. But he was lorn and shattered, infinitely distressed 
 both in body and in mind ; weak and miserable ; and he 
 thought he was leaning on angelic hearts, when he found 
 himself in the embrace of spirits of another sphere. 
 
 In what a position of unexampled pain did he not now 
 find himself! To feel it your duty to quit the faith in
 
 360 LOTHAIK. 
 
 which you have been bred must involve an awful pang; 
 but to be a renegade without the consolation of conscience, 
 against your sense, against your will, alike for no celestial 
 hope and no earthly object, this was agony mixed with 
 self-contempt. 
 
 He remembered what Lady Corisande had once said to 
 him about those who quitted their native church for the 
 Roman communion. What would she say now ? He 
 marked in imagination the cloud of sorrow on her imperial 
 brow and the scorn of her curled lip. 
 
 Whatever happened he could never return to England, 
 at least for many years, when all the things and persons he 
 cared for would have disappeared, or changed, which is 
 worse ; and then what would be the use of returning ? 
 He would go to America, or Australia, or the Indian 
 Ocean, or the interior of Africa ; but even in all these 
 places, according to the correspondence of the Propaganda, 
 he would find Roman priests and active priests. He felt 
 himself a lost man ; not free from faults in this matter, 
 but punished beyond his errors. But this is the fate of 
 men who think they can struggle successfully with a 
 supernatural power. 
 
 A servant opened a door and said in a loud voice, that, 
 with his permission, his Eminence, the English Cardinal, 
 would wait on him. 
 
 CHAPTER LXVIH. 
 
 IT is proverbial to what drowning men will cling. Lothair, 
 in his utter hopelessness, made a distinction between the 
 Cardinal and the conspirators. The Cardinal had been 
 absent from Rome during the greater portion of the resi- 
 dence of Lothair in that city. The Cardinal was his 
 father's friend, an English gentleman, with an English
 
 LOTHAIB. 361 
 
 education, once an Anglican, a man of the world, a man of 
 honour, a good, kind-hearted man. Lothair explained the 
 apparent and occasional co-operation of his Eminence with 
 the others, by their making use of him without a due 
 consciousness of their purpose on his part. Lothair re- 
 membered how delicately his former guardian had always 
 treated the subject of religion in their conversations. The 
 announcement of his visit instead of aggravating the dis- 
 tresses of Lothair, seemed, as all these considerations 
 rapidly occurred to him, almost to impart a ray of hope. 
 
 ' I see,' said the Cardinal, as he entered serene and 
 graceful as usual, and glancing at the table, ' that you 
 have been reading the account of our great act of yes- 
 terday.' 
 
 4 Yes ; and I have been reading it,' said Lothair redden- 
 ing, ' with indignation ; with alarm ; I should add, with 
 disgust.' 
 
 ' How is this ? ' said the Cardinal, feeling or affecting 
 surprise. 
 
 'It is a tissue of falsehood and imposture,' continued 
 Lothair ; * and I will take care that my opinion is known 
 of it.' 
 
 ' Do nothing rashly,' said the Cardinal. ' This is an 
 official journal, and I have reason to believe that nothing 
 appears in it which is not drawn up, or well considered, by 
 truly pious men.' 
 
 4 You yourself, sir, must know,' continued Lothair, ' that 
 the whole of this statement is founded on falsehood ' 
 
 4 Indeed I should be sorry to believe,' said the Cardinal, 
 4 that there was a particle of misstatement, or even 
 exaggeration, either in the base or the superstructure of 
 the narrative.' 
 
 ' Good God ! ' exclaimed Lothair. 4 Why ! take the 
 very first allegation, that I fell at Montana fighting in the 
 ranks of the Holy Father. Every one knows that I fell
 
 362 LOTHAIE. 
 
 fighting against him, and that I was almost slain by one of 
 his chassepots. It is notorious ; and though, as a matte* 
 of taste, I have not obtruded the fact in the society in 
 which I have been recently living, I have never attempted 
 to conceal it, and have not the slightest doubt that it must 
 be as familiar to every member of that society as to your 
 Eminence.' 
 
 ' I know there are two narratives of your relations with 
 the battle of Mentana,' observed the Cardinal quietly. 
 ' The one accepted as authentic is that which appears in 
 this journal ; the other account, which can only be traced 
 to yourself, bears no doubt a somewhat different character ; 
 but considering that it is in the highest degree improbable; 
 and that there is not a tittle of confirmatory or collateral 
 evidence to extenuate its absolute unlikelihood, I hardly 
 think you are justified in using, with reference to the 
 statement in this article, the harsh expression which I am 
 persuaded, on reflection, you will feel you have hastily 
 used.' 
 
 ' I think,' said Lothair with a kindling eye and a burning 
 cheek, 'that 1 am the best judge of what I did at Men- 
 tana.' 
 
 ' Well, well,' said the Cardinal with dulcet calmness, 
 ' you naturally think so ; but you must remember you 
 have been very ill, my dear young friend, and labouring 
 under much excitement. If I were you, and I speak as 
 your friend, I hope your best one, I would not dwell too 
 much on this fancy of yours about the battle of Mentana. 
 1 would myself always deal tenderly with a fixed idea : 
 harsh attempts to terminate hallucination are seldom suc- 
 cessful. Nevertheless, in the case of a public event, a 
 matter of fact, if a man finds that he is of one opinion and 
 all orders of society of another, he should not be encouraged 
 to dwell on a perverted view; he should be gradually 
 weaned from it.'
 
 LOTHAIR. 363 
 
 ' You amaze me ! ' said Lothair. 
 
 'Not at all,' said the Cardinal. 'I am sure you will 
 benefit by my advice. And you must already perceive 
 that, assuming the interpretation which the world without 
 exception places on your conduct in the field to be the just 
 one, there really is not a single circumstance in the whole 
 of this interesting and important statement, the accuracy 
 of which you yourself would for a moment dispute.' 
 
 'What is there said about me at Mentana makes me 
 doubt of all the rest,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Well, we will not dwell on Mentana,' said the Cardinal 
 with a sweet smile ; ' I have treated of that point. Your 
 jase is by no means an uncommon one. It will wear off 
 with returning health. King George IV. believed that he 
 was at the battle of Waterloo, and indeed commanded 
 there ; and his friends were at one time a little alarmed ; 
 but Knighton, who was a sensible man, said, " Bis Majesty 
 has only to leave off Curacoa, and rest assured he will gain 
 no more victories." The rest of this statement, which is 
 to-day officially communicated to the whole world, and 
 which in its results will probably be not less important 
 even than the celebration of the Centenary of St. Peter, is 
 established by evidence so incontestable, by witnesses so 
 numerous, so various, in all the circumstances and acci- 
 dents of testimony so satisfactory, I may say so irresistible, 
 that controversy on this head would be a mere imperti- 
 nence and waste of time.' 
 
 ' I am not convinced,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Hush ! ' said the Cardinal, ' the freaks of your own 
 mind about personal incidents, however lamentable, may 
 be viewed with indulgence, at least for a time. But you 
 cannot be permitted to doubt of the rest. You must be 
 convinced, and on reflection you will be convinced. Re- 
 member, sir, where you are. You are in the centre of 
 Christendom, where truth, and wnere alone truth resides.
 
 364 LOTHAIR. 
 
 Divine authority has perused this paper and approved it. 
 It is published for the joy and satisfaction of two hundred 
 millions of Christians, and for the salvation of all those 
 who unhappily for themselves are not yet converted to the 
 faith. It records the most memorable event of this cen- 
 tury. Our Blessed Lady has personally appeared to her 
 votaries before during that period, but never at Rome. 
 Wisely and well she has worked in villages and among the 
 illiterate as at the beginning did her Divine Son. But 
 the time is now ripe for terminating the infidelity of the 
 world. In the eternal city, amid all its matchless learning 
 and profound theology, in the sight of thousands, this 
 great act has been accomplished, in a manner which can 
 admit of no doubt, and which can lead to no controversy. 
 Some of the most notorious atheists of Rome have already 
 solicited to be admitted to the offices of the Church ; the 
 Secret Societies have received their death-blow ; I look to 
 the alienation of England as virtually over. I am panting 
 to see you return to the home of your fathers and recon- 
 quer it for the Church in the name of the Lord God of 
 Sabaoth. Never was a man in a greater position since 
 Godfrey or Ignatius. The eyes of all Christendom are 
 upon you as the most favoured of men, and you stand 
 there like Saint Thomas.' 
 
 ' Perhaps he was as bewildered as I am,' said Lothair. 
 
 'Well, his bewilderment ended in his becoming an 
 apostle, as yours will. I am glad we have had this con- 
 versation, and that we agree ; I knew we should. But 
 now I wish to speak to you on business, and very grave. 
 The world assumes that being the favoured of Heaven you 
 are naturally and necessarily a member of the Church. 
 I, your late guardian, know that is not the case, and 
 Bometimes I blame myself that it is not so. But I have 
 ever scrupulously refrained from attempting to control 
 your convictions ; and the result has justified me. Heaven
 
 LOTHAIK. 365 
 
 has directed your life, and I have now to impart to you 
 the most gratifying intelligence that can be communicated 
 by man, and that the Holy Father will to-morrow himself 
 receive you into the bosom of that Church of which he 
 is the divine head. Christendom will then hail you as its 
 champion and regenerator, and thus will be realised the 
 divine dream with which you were inspired in our morning 
 walk in the park at Vauxe.' 
 
 CHAPTER LXIX. 
 
 IT was the darkest hour in Lothair's life. He had become 
 acquainted with sorrow ; he had experienced calamities 
 physical and moral. The death of Theodora had shaken 
 him to the centre. It was that first great grief which 
 makes a man acquainted with his deepest feelings, which 
 detracts something from the buoyancy of the youngest 
 life, and dims, to a certain degree, the lustre of existence. 
 But even that bereavement was mitigated by distractions 
 alike inevitable and ennobling. The sternest and highest 
 of all obligations, military duty, claimed him with an un- 
 faltering grasp, and the clarion sounded almost as he 
 closed her eyes. Then he went forth to struggle for a 
 cause which at least she believed to bo just and sublime ; 
 and if his own convictions on that head might be less assured 
 or precise, still there was doubtless much that was inspiring 
 in the contest, and much dependent on the success of himself 
 and his comrades that tended to the elevation of man. 
 
 But, now, there was not a single circumstance to sustain 
 his involved and sinking life. A renegade, a renegade 
 without conviction, without necessity, in absolute violation 
 of the pledge he had given to the person he most honoured 
 and most loved, as he received her parting spirit ! And
 
 366 LOTHAIB. 
 
 why was all this ? and how was all this ? What system 
 of sorcery had encompassed his existence? For he was 
 spell-bound, as much as any knight in fairy tale whom 
 malignant influences had robbed of his valour and will and 
 virtue. No sane person could credit, even comprehend, 
 his position. Had he the opportunity of stating it in a 
 court of justice to-morrow, he could only enter into a 
 narrative which would decide his lot as an insane being. 
 The magical rites had been so gradual, so subtle, so multi- 
 farious, all in appearance independent of each other, though 
 in reality scientifically combined, that while the conspira- 
 tors had probably effected his ruin both in body and in 
 soul, the only charges he could make against them would 
 be acts of exquisite charity, tenderness, self-sacrifice, per- 
 sonal devotion, refined piety, and religious sentiment of 
 the most exalted character. 
 
 What was to be done ? And could anything be done ? 
 Could he escape ? Where from and where to ? He was 
 certain, and had been for some, time, from many circum- 
 stances, that he was watched. Could he hope that the 
 vigilance which observed all his movements would scruple 
 to prevent any which might be inconvenient ? He felt 
 assured that, to quit that palace alone, was not in his 
 power. And were it, whither could he go ? To whom 
 was he to appeal ? And about what was he to ap- 
 peal ? Should he appeal to the Holy Father ? There 
 would be an opportunity for that to-morrow. To the 
 College of Cardinals, who had solemnised yesterday with 
 gracious unction his spiritual triumph ? To those con- 
 genial spirits, the mild Assessor of the Inquisition, or 
 the President of the Propaganda, who was busied at that 
 moment in circulating throughout both the Americas, all 
 Asia, all Africa, all Australia, and parts of Europe, for the 
 edification of distant millions, the particulars of the mira- 
 culous scene in which he was the principal actor ? Should
 
 LOTHATB. 367 
 
 he throw himself on the protection of the ambigaons 
 minister of the British Crown, and invoke his aid against 
 a conspiracy touching the rights, reason, and freedom of 
 one of Her Majesty's subjects ? He would probably find 
 that functionary inditing a private letter to the English 
 Secretary of State, giving the minister a graphic account 
 of the rare doings of yesterday, and assuring the minister, 
 from his own personal and ocular experience, that a 
 member of one of the highest orders of the British peerage 
 carried in the procession a lighted taper after two angels 
 with amaranthine flowers and golden wings. 
 
 Lothair remained in his apartments ; no one approached 
 him. It was the only day that the Monsignore had not 
 waited on him. Father Coleman was equally reserved. 
 Strange to say, not one of those agreeable and polite gentle- 
 men, fathers of the oratory, who talked about gems, torsos, 
 and excavations, and who always more or less attended his 
 lev5e, troubled him this morning. With that exquisite 
 tact which pervades the hierarcliical circles of Rome, 
 everyone felt that Lothair, on the eve of that event of his 
 lifb which Providence had so long and so mysteriously 
 prepared, would wish to be undisturbed. 
 
 Restless, disquieted, revolving all the incidents of his 
 last year, trying, by terrible analysis, to ascertain how he 
 ever could have got into such a false position, and how 
 he could yet possibly extricate himself from it, not shrink- 
 ing in many things from self- blame, and yet not recog- 
 nising on his part such a degree of deviation from the 
 standard of right feeling, or even of common sense, as 
 would authorise such an overthrow as that awaiting him, 
 high rank and boundless wealth, a station of duty an/I 
 of honour, some gifts of nature, and golden youth, and a 
 disposition that at least aspired, in the employment of 
 these accidents of life and fortune, at something better 1 
 than selfish gratification, all smashed, the day drew on.
 
 368 LOTH AIR. 
 
 Drew on the day, and every hour it seemed hia spirit 
 was more lone and dark. For the first time the thought 
 of death occurred to him as a relief from the perplexities 
 of existence. How much better had he died at Montana ! 
 To this pass had arrived the cordial and brilliant Lord of 
 Muriel, who enjoyed and adorned life, and wished others 
 to adorn and to enjoy it ; the individual whom, probably, 
 were the majority of the English people polled, they would 
 have fixed upon as filling the most enviable of all positions, 
 and holding out a hope that he was not unworthy of it. 
 Born with every advantage that could command the sym- 
 pathies of his fellow-men, with a quick intelligence and a 
 noble disposition, here he was at one-and-twenty ready to 
 welcome death, perhaps even to devise it, as the only rescue 
 from a doom of confusion, degradation, and remorse. 
 
 He had thrown himself on a sofa, and had buried his 
 face in his hands to assist the abstraction which he de- 
 manded. There was not an incident of his life that es- 
 caped the painful inquisition of his memory. He passed 
 his childhood once more in that stern Scotch home, that, 
 after all, had been so kind, and, as it would seem, so wise. 
 The last words of counsel and of warning from his uncle, 
 expressed at Muriel, came back to him. And yet there 
 seemed a destiny throughout these transactions which was 
 irresistible ! The last words of Theodora, her look, even 
 more solemn than her tone, might have been breathed 
 over a tripod, for they were a prophecy, not a warning. 
 
 How long he had been absorbed in this passionate 
 reverie he knew not, but when he looked up again it was 
 night, and the moon had touched his window. He rose 
 and walked up and down the room, and then went into 
 the corridor. All was silent ; not an attendant was visible ; 
 the sky was clear and starry, and the moonlight fell on the 
 tall, still cypresses in the vast quadrangle. 
 
 Lothair leant over the balustrade and gazed anon the
 
 LOTHAIR. 369 
 
 moonlit fountains. The change of scene, silent and yot 
 not voiceless, and the softening spell of the tranquillising 
 hour were a relief to him. And after a time he wandered 
 about the corridors, and after a time he descended into the 
 court. The tall Swiss, in his grand uniform, was closing 
 the gates which had just released a visitor. Lothair mo- 
 tioned that he too wished to go forth, and the Swiss obeyed 
 him. The threshold was passed, and Lothair found him- 
 self for the first time alone in Rome. 
 
 Utterly reckless he cared not where he went or what 
 might happen. The streets were quite deserted, and he 
 wandered about with a strange curiosity, gratified as he 
 sometimes encountered famous objects he had read of, and 
 yet the true character of which no reading ever realises. 
 
 The moonlight becomes the proud palaces of Rome, 
 their corniced and balconied fronts rich with deep shadows 
 in the blaze. Sometimes he encountered an imperial 
 column ; sometimes he came to an arcadian square flooded 
 with light and resonant with the fall of statued fountains. 
 Emerging from a long straggling street of convents and 
 gardens, he found himself in an open space full of antique 
 ruins, and among them the form of a colossal amphi- 
 theatre that he at once recognised. 
 
 It rose with its three tiers of arches and the huge wall that 
 crowns them, black and complete in the air ; and not until 
 Lothair had entered it could he perceive the portion of the 
 outer wall that was in ruins, and now bathed with the 
 silver light. Lothair was alone. In that huge creation, 
 once echoing with the shouts, and even the agonies, of 
 thousands, Lothair was alone. 
 
 He sate him down on a block of stone in that sublime 
 and desolate arena, and asked himself the secret spell of 
 this Rome that had already so agitated his young life, and 
 probably was about critically to affect it. Theodora lived 
 for Rome and died for Rome. And the Cardinal, born and 
 
 B B
 
 370 LQTHAIE. 
 
 bred an English gentleman, with many hopes and honours, 
 had renounced his religion, and, it might be said, his 
 country, for Rome. And for Rome, to-morrow, Catesby 
 would die without a pang, and sacrifice himself for Rome r 
 as his race for three hundred years had given, for the same 
 cause, honour and broad estates and unhesitating lives. 
 And these very people were influenced by different mo- 
 tives, and thought they were devoting themselves to oppo- 
 site ends. But still it was Rome : Republican or Caesarian, 
 papal or pagan, it still was Rome. 
 
 Was it a breeze in a breezeless night that was sighing 
 amid these ruins ? A pine tree moved its head on a 
 broken arch, and there was a stir among the plants that 
 hung on the ancient walls. It was a breeze in a breezeless 
 night that was sighing amid the ruins. 
 
 There was a tall crag of ancient building contiguous to 
 the block on which Lothair was seated, and which on his 
 arrival he had noted, although, long lost in reverie, he had 
 not recently turned his glance in that direction. He was 
 roused from that reverie by the indefinite sense of some 
 change having occurred which often disturbs and termi- 
 nates one's brooding thoughts. And looking round, he 
 felt, he saw, he was no longer alone. The moonbeams fell 
 upon a figure that was observing him from the crag of ruin 
 that was near, and as the light clustered and gathered round 
 the form, it became every moment more definite and distinct. 
 
 Lothair would have sprung forward, but he could only 
 extend his arms : he would have spoken, but his tongue 
 was paralysed. 
 
 ' Lothair,' said a deep, sweet voice that never could be 
 forgotten. 
 
 ' I am here,' he at last replied. 
 
 'Remember!' and she threw upon him that glance, at 
 once serene and solemn, that had been her last, and waa 
 impressed indelibly upon his heart of hearts.
 
 LOTHAIR. 371 
 
 Now, he could spring forward and throw himself at her 
 feet ; but alas ! as he reached her, the figure melted into 
 the moonlight, and she was gone : that divine Theodora, 
 who, let us hope, returned at least to those Elysian fields 
 she so well deserved. 
 
 CHAPTER LXX. 
 
 ' THEY have overdone it, Gertrude, with Lothair,' said 
 Lord St. Jerome to his wife. ' I spoke to Monsignore 
 Catesby about it some time ago, but he would not listen to 
 me ; I had more confidence in the Cardinal and am disap- 
 pointed ; but a priest is ever too hot. His nervous system 
 has been tried too much.' 
 
 Lady St. Jerome still hoped the best, and believed in it. 
 She was prepared to accept the way Lothair was found 
 senseless in the Coliseum as a continuance of miraculous 
 interpositions. He might have remained there for a day 
 or days and never have been recognised when discovered. 
 How marvellously providential that Father Coleman 
 should have been in the vicinity and tempted to visit the 
 great ruin that very night ! 
 
 Lord St. Jerome was devout, and easy in his temper. 
 Priests and women seemed to have no difficulty in ma- 
 naging him. But he was an English gentleman, and there 
 was at the bottom of his character a fund of courage, firm- 
 ness, and common sense, that sometimes startled and 
 sometimes perplexed those who assumed that he could be 
 easily controlled. He was not satisfied with the condition 
 of Lothair, ' a peer of England and my connection ;' and he 
 had not unlimited confidence in those who had been 
 hitherto consulted as to his state. There was a celebrated 
 English physician at that time visiting Borne, and Lord 
 
 B B 2
 
 372 LOTHATR. 
 
 St. Jerome, notwithstanding tho multiform resistance of 
 Monsignore Catesby, insisted ho should be called in to 
 Lothair. 
 
 The English physician was one of those men who abhor 
 priests, and do not particularly admire ladies. The latter, 
 in revenge, denounced his manners as brutal, though they 
 always sent for him, and were always trying, though 
 vainly, to pique him into sympathy. He rarely spoke, but 
 he listened to everyone with entire patience. He some- 
 times asked a question, but he never made a remark. 
 
 Lord St. Jerome had seen the physician alone before he 
 visited the Palazzo Agostini, and had talked to him freely 
 about Lothair. The physician saw at once that Lord St. 
 Jerome was truthful, and that though his intelligence 
 might be limited, it was pure and direct. Appreciating 
 Lord St. Jerome, that nobleman found the redoubtable 
 doctor not ungenial, arid assured his wife that she would 
 meet on the morrow by no means so savage a being as she 
 anticipated. She received him accordingly, and in the 
 presence of Monsignore Catesby. Never had she exercised 
 her distinguished powers of social rhetoric with more art 
 and fervour, and never apparently had they proved less 
 productive of the intended consequences. The physician 
 said not a word, and merely bowed when exhausted nature 
 consigned the luminous and impassioned Lady St. Jerome 
 to inevitable silence. Monsignore Catesby felt he was 
 bound in honour to make some diversion in her favour ; 
 repeat some of her unanswered inquiries, and reiterate 
 some of her unnoticed views ; but the only return he received 
 was silence without a bow, and then the physician re- 
 marked, ' I presume I can now see the patient.' 
 
 The English physician was alone with Lothair for some 
 time, and then he met in consultation the usual attendants. 
 The result of all these proceedings was that he returned to 
 the saloon, in which he found Lord and Lady St. Jerome,
 
 LOTHAIR. 373 
 
 Monsignore Catesby, and Father Coleman, and he then said, 
 * My opinion is that his Lordship should quit Rome imme- 
 diately, and I think he had better return at once to his own 
 country.' 
 
 All the efforts of the English Propaganda were now 
 directed to prevent the return of Lothair to his own country. 
 The Cardinal and Lady St. Jerome, and the Monsignore, 
 and Father Coleman, all the beautiful young countesses 
 who had ' gone over ' to Borne, and all the spirited younj* 
 earls who had come over to bring their wives back, but 
 had unfortunately remained themselves, looked very serious, 
 and spoke much in whispers. Lord St. Jerome was firm 
 that Lothair should immediately leave the city, and find 
 that change of scene and air which were declared by 
 authority to be indispensable for his health, both of mind 
 and body. But his return to England, at this moment, 
 was an affair of serious difficulty. He could not return un- 
 attended, and attended too by some intimate and devoted 
 friend. Besides it was very doubtful whether Lothair had 
 strength remaining to bear so great an exertion, and at such 
 a season of the year ; and he seemed disinclined to it himself. 
 He also wished to leave Borne, but he wished also in time 
 to extend his travels. Amidst these difficulties a Neapolitan 
 duke, a great friend of Monsignore Catesby, a gentleman 
 who always had a friend in need, offered to the young 
 English noble, the interesting young Englishman so 
 favoured by heaven, the use of his villa on the coast of 
 the remotest part of Sicily, near Syracuse. Here was a 
 solution of many difficulties : departure from Borne, change 
 of scene and air (sea air, too, particularly recommended), 
 and almost the same as a return to England, without an 
 effort ; for was it not an island, only with a better climate, 
 and a people with free institutions, or a taste for them, 
 which is the same ? 
 
 The mode in which Lady St. Jerome and Monsignoro
 
 374 LOTHAIE. 
 
 Catesby consulted Lord St. Jerome on the subject, took the 
 adroit but insidious form of congratulating him on the 
 entire and unexpected fulfilment of his purpose. ' Are we 
 not fortunate ? ' exclaimed her Ladyship, looking up 
 brightly in his face, and gently pressing one of his arms. 
 
 ' Exactly everything your Lordship required,' echoed 
 Monsignore Catesby, congratulating him by pressing the 
 other. 
 
 The Cardinal said to Lord St. Jerome in the course of 
 the morning, in an easy way, and as if he were not think- 
 ing too much of the matter, ' So you have got out of all 
 your difficulties.' 
 
 Lord St. Jerome was not entirely satisfied, but he thought 
 he had done a great deal, and, to say the truth, the effort 
 for him had not been inconsiderable ; and so the result was 
 that Lothair, accompanied by Monsignore Catesby and 
 Father Coleman, travelled by easy stages, and chiefly on 
 horseback, through a delicious and romantic country, which 
 alone did Lothair a great deal of good, to the coast ; crossed 
 the straits on a serene afternoon, visited Messina and 
 Palermo, and finally settled at their point of destination, 
 the Villa Catalano. 
 
 Nothing could be more satisfactory than the Monsignore's 
 bulletin, announcing to his friends at Rome their ultimate 
 arrangements. Three weeks' travel, air, horse exercise, the 
 inspiration of the landscape and the clime, had wonderfully 
 restored Lothair, and they might entirely count on his pass- 
 ing Holy Week at Rome, when all they had hoped and 
 prayed for would, by the blessing of the Holy Virgin, be 
 accomplished.
 
 LOTHATR. 375 
 
 CHAPTER LXXI. 
 
 THE terrace of the Villa Catalano, with its orange and palm 
 trees, looked upon a sea of lapis lazuli, and rose from a 
 shelving shore of aloes and arbutus. The waters reflected 
 the colour of the sky, and all the foliage was bedewed with 
 the same violet light of morn which bathed the softness of 
 the distant mountains, and the undulating beauty of the 
 ever- varying coast. 
 
 Lothair was walking on the terrace, his favourite walk, 
 for it was the only occasion on which he ever found himself 
 alone. Not that he had any reason to complain of his 
 companions. More complete ones could scarcely be selected. 
 Travel, which they say tries all tempers, had only proved 
 the engaging equanimity of Catesby, and had never dis- 
 turbed the amiable repose of his brother priest : and then 
 they were so entertaining and so instructive, as well as handy 
 and experienced in all common things. The Monsignore 
 had so much taste and leeling and various knowledge ; and 
 as for the reverend Father, all the antiquaries they daily 
 encountered were mere children in his hands who, without 
 effort, could explain and illustrate every scene and object, 
 and spoke as if he had never given a thought to any other 
 theme than Sicily and Syracuse, the expedition of Nicias 
 and the adventures of Agathocles. And yet during all 
 their travels Lothair felt that he never was alone. This 
 was remarkable at the great cities such as Messina am? 
 Palermo, but it was a prevalent habit in less frequented, 
 places. There was a petty town near them, which he had 
 never visited alone, although he had made more than one 
 attempt with that view ; and it was only on the terrace in 
 the early morn, a spot whence he could be observed from the
 
 376 LOTHAIE. 
 
 villa, and which did not easily communicate with the pre- 
 cipitous and surrounding scenery, that Lothair would in- 
 dulge that habit of introspection which he had pursued 
 through many a long ride, and which to him was a never- 
 failing source of interest and even excitement. 
 
 He wanted to ascertain the causes of what he deemed 
 the failure of his life, and of the dangers and discomfiture 
 that were still impending over him. Were these causes to 
 be found in any peculiarity of his disposition, or in the 
 general inexperience and incompetence of youth ? The 
 latter he was now quite willing to believe would lead their 
 possessors into any amount of disaster, but his ingenuous 
 nature hesitated before it accepted them as the self-com- 
 placent solution of his present deplorable position. 
 
 Of a nature profound and inquisitive, though with a 
 great fund of reverence which had been developed by an 
 ecclesiastical education, Lothair now felt that he had started 
 in life with an extravagant appreciation of the influence of 
 the religious principle on the conduct of human affairs. 
 With him, when heaven was so nigh, earth could not be 
 remembered ; and yet experience showed that, so long as 
 one was on the earth, the incidents of this planet consider- 
 ably controlled one's existence, both in behaviour and in 
 thought. All the world could not retire to Mount Athos. 
 It was clear, therefore, that there was a juster conception 
 of the relations between religion and life than that which 
 he had at first adopted. 
 
 Practically, Theodora had led or was leading him to this 
 result ; but Theodora, though religious, did not bow before 
 those altars to which he for a moment had never been 
 faithless. Theodora believed in her immortality, and did 
 not believe in death according to the ecclesiastical interpre- 
 tation. But her departure from the scene, and the circum- 
 stances under which it had taken place, had unexpectedly 
 and violently restored the course of his life to its old bent.
 
 LOTHAIR. 377 
 
 Shattered and shorn, he was -willing to believe that he was 
 again entering the kingdom of heaven, but found he was 
 only under the gilded dome of a Jesuit's church, and woke 
 to reality, from a scene of magical deceptions, with a sad 
 conviction that even cardinals and fathers of the Church 
 were inevitably influenced in this life by its interests and 
 its passions. 
 
 But the incident of his life that most occupied, it might 
 be said engrossed, his meditation was the midnight appari- 
 tion in the Coliseum. Making every allowance that a 
 candid nature and an ingenious mind could suggest for 
 explicatory circumstances ; tho tension of his nervous sys- 
 tem, which was then doubtless strained to its last point ; 
 the memory of her death-scene, which always harrowed 
 and haunted him ; and that dark collision between his 
 promise and his life which then, after so many efforts, 
 appeared by some supernatural ordination to be about 
 inevitably to occur in that very Rome whose gigantic 
 shades surrounded him ; he still could not resist the con- 
 viction that he had seen the form of Theodora and had 
 listened to her voice. Often the whole day when they 
 were travelling, and his companions watched him on his 
 saddle in silent thought, his mind in reality was fixed on 
 this single incident, and he was cross-examining his me- 
 mory as some adroit and ruthless advocate deals with the 
 witness in the box, and tries to demonstrate his infidelity 
 or his weakness. 
 
 But whether it were indeed the apparition of his adored 
 friend or a distempered dream, Lothair not less recognised 
 the warning as divine, and the only conviction he had 
 arrived at throughout his Sicilian travels was a determina- 
 tion that, however tragical the cost, his promise to Theo- 
 dora should never be broken. 
 
 The beautiful terrace of the Villa Catalano overlooked a 
 umall bay to which it descended by winding walks. The
 
 378 LOTHAIE. 
 
 water was deep, and in any other country the bay might 
 have been turned to good account, but bays abounded on 
 this coast, and the people, with many harbours, had no 
 freighjts to occupy them. This morn, this violet morn, 
 when the balm of the soft breeze refreshed Lothair, and the 
 splendour of the rising sun began to throw a flashing line 
 upon the azure waters, a few fishermen in one of the 
 country boats happened to come in, about to dry a net 
 upon a sunny bank. The boat was what is called a spero- 
 naro ; an open boat worked with oars, but with a lateen 
 sail at the same time when the breeze served. 
 
 Lothair admired the trim of the vessel, and got talking 
 with the men as they eat their bread and olives, and a 
 small fish or two. 
 
 ' And your lateen sail ? ' continued Lothair. 
 
 ' Is the best thing in the world, except in a white squall,' 
 replied the sailor, ' and then everything is queer in these 
 seas with an open boat, though I am not afraid of Santa 
 Agnese, and that is her name. But I took two English 
 officers who came over here for sport, and whose leave 
 of absence was out ; I took them over in her to Malta, 
 and did it in ten hours. I believe it had never been done 
 in an open boat before, but it was neck or nothing with 
 them.' 
 
 ' And you saved them ? ' 
 
 ' With the lateen up the whole way.' 
 
 ' They owed you much, and I hope they paid you well.' 
 
 ' I asked them ten ducats,' said the man, ' and they paid 
 me ten ducats.' 
 
 Lothair had his hand in his pocket all this time, feeling, 
 but imperceptibly, for his purse, and when he had found it, 
 feeling how it was lined. He generally carried about him 
 as much as Fortunatus. 
 
 ' What are you going to do with yourselves this morn- 
 ing ? ' said Lothair.
 
 T.DTTTAm 379 
 
 1 Well, not much ; we thought of throwing the net, but 
 we have had one dip, and no great luck.' 
 
 ' Are you inclined to give me a sail ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, signer.' 
 
 ' Have you a mind to go to Malta ? ' 
 
 ' That is business, signer.' 
 
 ' Look here,' said Lothair, ' here are ten ducats in this 
 purse, and a little more. I will give them to you if you 
 will take me to Malta at once, but if you will start in a 
 hundred seconds, before the sun touches that rock, and the 
 waves just beyond it are already bright, you shall have ten 
 more ducats when you reach the isle.' 
 
 ' Step in, signer.' 
 
 From the nature of the course, which was not in the direc- 
 tion of the open sea, for they had to double Cape Passaro, the 
 speronaro was out of sight of the villa in a few minutes 
 They rowed only till they had doubled the cape, and then 
 set the lateen sail, the breeze being light but steady and 
 favourable. They were soon in open sea, no land in sight. 
 ' And if a white squall does rise,' thought Lothair, ' it will 
 only settle many difficulties.' 
 
 Bat no white squall came ; everything was favourable to 
 their progress : the wind, the current, the courage and 
 spirit of the men, who liked the adventure and liked 
 Lothair. Night came on, but they were as tender to him 
 as women, fed him with their least coarse food, and covered 
 him with a cloak made of stuff spun by their mothers and 
 their sisters. 
 
 Lothair was slumbering when the patron of the boat 
 roused him, and he saw at hand many lights, and in a few 
 minutes was in still water. They were in one of the 
 harbours of Malta, but not permitted to land at midnight, 
 and when the morn arrived, the obstacles to the release of 
 Lothair were not easily removed. A speronaro, an open 
 boat from Sicily, of course with no papers to prove their
 
 380 LOTHAIR. 
 
 point of departure : here were materials for doubt and 
 difficulty, of which the petty officers of the port knew how 
 to avail themselves. They might come from Barbary, from 
 an infected port ; plague might be aboard, a question of 
 quarantine. Lothair observed that they were nearly along- 
 side of a fine steam yacht, Engh'sh, for it bore the cross of 
 St. George, and while on the quay, he and the patron of 
 the speronaro arguing with the officers of the port, a 
 gentleman from the yacht put ashore in a boat, of which 
 the bright equipment immediately attracted attention. The 
 gentleman landed almost close to the point where the 
 controversy was carrying on. The excited manner and 
 voice of the Sicilian mariner could not escape notice. The 
 gentleman stopped and looked at the group, and then sud- 
 denly exclaimed, ' Good heavens ! my Lord, can it be you ? ' 
 
 ' Ah ! Mr. Phoebus, you will help me,' said Lothair, and 
 then he went up to him and told him everything. All 
 difficulties of course vanished before the presence of 
 Mr. Phoebus, whom the officers of the port evidently looked 
 upon as a being beyond criticism and control. 
 
 ' And now,' said Mr. Phoebus, ' about your people and 
 your baggage.' 
 
 ' I have neither servants nor clothes,' said Lothair, ' and 
 if it had not been for these good people, I should not have 
 had food.' 
 
 CHAPTER LXXII. 
 
 MR. PHCEBDS in his steam-yacht PAN, of considerable ad- 
 measurement and fitted up with every luxury and con- 
 venience that science and experience could suggest, was on 
 his way to an island which he occasionally inhabited, near 
 the Asian coast of the -<33gean Sea, and which he rented 
 from the chief of his wife's house, the Prince of Samos.
 
 LCTHAJR. 381 
 
 Mr. Phoebus, by bis genius and fame, commanded a large 
 income, and he spent it freely and fully. There was no- 
 Lhing of which he more disapproved than accumulation. 
 It was a practice which led to sordid habits and was fatal 
 to the beautiful. On the whole, he thought it more odious 
 even than debt, more permanently degrading. Mr. Phoebus 
 liked pomp and graceful ceremony, and he was of opinion 
 that great artists should lead a princely life, so that in 
 their manners and method of existence they might furnish 
 models to mankind in general, and elevate the tone and 
 taste of nations. 
 
 Sometimes when he observed a friend noticing with ad- 
 miration, perhaps with astonishment, the splendour or 
 finish of his equipments, he would say, ' The world think? 
 I had a large fortune with Madame Phoebus. I had nothing. 
 I understand that a fortune, and no inconsiderable one, 
 would have been given, had I chosen to ask for it. But I 
 did not choose to ask for it. I made Madame Phoebus my 
 wife because she was the finest specimen of the Aryan race 
 that I was acquainted with, and I would have no considera- 
 tions mixed up with the high motive that influenced me. 
 My father-in-law Cantacuzene, whether from a feeling of 
 gratitude or remorse, is always making us magnificent 
 presents. I like to receive magnificent presents, but also 
 to make them ; and I presented him with a picture which 
 is the gem of his gallery, and which, if ho ever part with 
 it, will in another generation be contended for by kings and 
 peoples. 
 
 ' On her last birthday we breakfasted with my father-in- 
 law Cantacuzene, and Madame Phcebus found in her 
 napkin a cheque for five thousand pounds. I expended 
 it immediately in jewels for her personal use ; for I 
 wished my father-in-law to understand that there are other 
 princely families in the world besides the Cantacuzenes.' 
 
 A friend once ventured enquiringly to suggest whether
 
 382 LOTHAIB. 
 
 his way of life might not "be conducive to envy and so dis- 
 turb that serenity of sentiment necessary to the complete 
 life of an artist. But Mr. Phoebus would not for a moment 
 admit the soundness of the objection. ' No,' he said, ' envy 
 is a purely intellectual process. Splendour never excites 
 it : a man of splendour is looked upon always with favour ; 
 bis appearance exhilarates the heart of man. He is always 
 popular. People wish to dine with him, to borrow his 
 money, but they do not envy him. If you want to know 
 what envy is you should live among artists. You should 
 hear me lecture at the Academy. I have sometimes 
 suddenly turned round and caught countenances like that 
 of the man who was waiting at the corner of the street 
 for Benvenuto Cellini, in order to assassinate the great 
 Florentine.' 
 
 It was impossible for Lothair in his present condition to 
 have fallen upon a more suitable companion than Mr. 
 Phoebus. It is not merely change of scene and air that we 
 sometimes want, but a revolution in the atmosphere of 
 thought and feeling in which we h've and breathe. Besides 
 his great intelligence and fancy, and his peculiar views on 
 art and man and affairs in general, which always interested 
 their hearer and sometimes convinced, there was a general 
 vivacity in Mr. Phoebus and a vigorous sense of life which 
 were inspiriting to his companions. When there was any- 
 thing to be done, great or small, Mr. Phoebus liked to do 
 it ; and this, as he averred, from a sense of duty, since, if 
 anything is to be done, it should be done in the best manner, 
 and no one could do it so well as Mr. Phoebus. He always 
 acted as if he had been created to be the oracle and model 
 of the human race, but the oracle was never pompous or 
 solemn, and the model was always beaming with good 
 nature and high spirits. 
 
 Mr. Phoebus liked Lothair. He liked youth, and good- 
 looking youth ; and youth that was intelligent and engaging
 
 LOTHATR. 383 
 
 and well-mannered. He also liked old men. But between 
 fifty and seventy, he saw little to approve of in the dark 
 sex. They had lost their good looks if they ever had any, 
 their wits were on the wane, and they were invariably 
 selfish. When they attained second childhood the charm 
 often returned. Age was frequently beautiful, wisdom 
 appeared like an aftermath, and the heart which seemed 
 dry and deadened suddenly put forth shoots of sympathy. 
 
 Mr. Phoebus postponed his voyage in order that Lothair 
 might make his preparations to become his guest in his 
 island, ' I cannot take you to a banker,' said Mr. Phoebus, 
 ' for I have none ; but I wish you would share my purse. 
 Nothing will ever induce me to use what they call paper 
 money. It is the worst thing that what they call civilisa- 
 tion has produced ; neither hue nor shape, and yet a sub- 
 stitute for the richest colour, and, where the arts flourish 
 the finest forms.' 
 
 The telegraph which brought an order to the bankers at 
 Malta to give an unlimited credit to Lothair, rendered it 
 unnecessary for our friend to share what Mr. Phoebus 
 called his purse, and yet he was glad to have the opportu- 
 nity of seeing it, as Mr. Phoebus one morning opened a 
 chest in his cabin and produced several velvet bags, one 
 full of pearls, another of rubies, others of Venetian sequins, 
 Napoleons, and golden piastres. ' I like to look at them,' 
 said Mr. Phoebus, ' and find life more intense when they 
 are about my person. But bank notes, so cold and thin, 
 they give me an ague.' 
 
 Madame Phoebus and her sister Euphrosyne welcomed 
 Lothair in maritime costumes which were absolutely be- 
 witching ; wondrous jackets with loops of pearls, girdles 
 defended by dirks with handles of turquoises, and tilted 
 hats that, while they screened their long eyelashes from 
 the sun, crowned the longer braids of their never-ending 
 hair. Mr. Phoebus gave banquets every day on board biH
 
 384 LOTHAffi. 
 
 yacht, attended by the chief personages of the island and 
 trie most agreeable officers of the garrison. They dined 
 upon deck, and it delighted him, with a surface of sang-froid, 
 to produce a repast which both in its material and its 
 treatment was equal to the refined festivals of Paris. Some- 
 times they had a dance ; sometimes in his barge, rowed by 
 a crew in Venetian dresses, his guests glided on the tran- 
 quil waters, under a starry sky, and listened to the ex- 
 quisite melodies of their hostess and her sister. 
 
 At length the day of departure arrived. It was bright, 
 with a breeze favourable to the sail and opportune for the 
 occasion. For all the officers of the garrison and all 
 beautiful Valetta itself seemed present in their yachts and 
 barges to pay their last tribute of admiration to the en- 
 chanting sisters and the all-accomplished owner of the 
 * Pan.' Placed on the gallery of his yacht, Mr. Phoebus 
 surveyed the brilliant and animated scene with delight. 
 ' This is the way to conduct life,' he said. ' If, fortunately 
 for them, I could have passed another month among these 
 people, I could have developed a feeling equal to the old 
 regattas of the Venetians.' 
 
 The JEgean isle occupied by Mr. Phoebus was of no in- 
 considerable dimensions. A chain of mountains of white 
 marble intersected it, covered with forests of oak, though 
 in parts precipitous and bare. The lowlands, while they 
 produced some good crops of grain, and even cotton and 
 silk, were chiefly clothed with fruit trees : orange and 
 lemon, and the fig, the olive, and the vine. Sometimes 
 the land was uncultivated, and was principally covered 
 with myrtles of large size and oleanders and arbutus and 
 thorny brooms. Here game abounded, while from the 
 mountain forests the wolf sometimes descended .and spoiled 
 and scared the islanders. 
 
 On the seashore, yet not too near the wave, and on a 
 sylvan declivity, was a long pavilion-looking building,
 
 LOTHAIR. 385 
 
 painted in white and arabesque. It was backed by the 
 forest, which had a park-liko character from its partial 
 clearance, and which, after a convenient slip of even land, 
 ascended the steeper country and took the form of wooded 
 hills, backed in due time by still sylvan yet loftier eleva- 
 tions, and sometimes a glittering peak. 
 
 ' Welcome, my friend ! ' said Mr. Phoebus to Lothair. 
 * Welcome to an Aryan clime, an Aryan landscape, and an 
 Aryan race. It will do you good after your Semitic 
 hallucinations.' 
 
 CHAPTER LXXHI. 
 
 MR. PH<EBUS pursued a life in his island partly feudal, partly 
 oriental, partly Venetian, and partly idiosyncratic. He 
 had a grand studio where he could always find interesting 
 occupation in drawing every fine face and form in his 
 dominions. Then he hunted, and that was a remarkable 
 scene. The ladies, looking like Diana or her nymphs-, were 
 mounted on cream-coloured Anatolian chargers with golden 
 bells ; while Mr. Phoebus himself, in green velvet and 
 seven-leagued boots, sounded a wondrous twisted horn rife 
 with all the inspiring or directing notes of musical and 
 learned venerie. His neighbours of condition came 
 mounted, but the field was by no means confined to cava- 
 liers. A vast crowd of men in small caps and jackets and 
 huge white breeches, and armed with all the weapons of 
 Palikari, handjars and yataghans and silver sheathed mus- 
 kets of uncommon length and almost as old as the battle of 
 Lepanto, always rallied round his standard. The eques- 
 trians caracolled about the park, and the horns sounded 
 and the hounds bayed and the men shouted till the deer 
 had all scudded away. Then, by degrees, the huntera 
 entered the forest, and the notes of venerio became more 
 
 00
 
 386 LOTHATR. 
 
 faint and the shouts more distant. Then for two or throe 
 hours all was silent, save the sound of an occasional shot 
 or the note of a stray hound, until the human stragglers 
 began to reappear emerging from the forest, and in due 
 time the great body of the hunt, and a gilded cart drawn 
 by mules and carrying the prostrate forms of fallow deer 
 and roebuck. None of the ceremonies of the chase were 
 omitted, and the crowd dispersed, refreshed by Samian 
 wine, which Mr. Phosbus was teaching them to make 
 without resin, and which they quaffed with shrugging 
 shoulders. 
 
 ' We must have a wolf-hunt for you,' said Euphrosyne 
 to Lothair. ' Tou like excitement, I believe ? ' 
 
 ' Well, I am rather inclined for repose at present, and I 
 came here with the hope of obtaining it.' 
 
 ' We are never idle here ; in fact that would be impos- 
 sible with Gaston. He has established here an academy of 
 the fine arts and also revived the gymnasia ; and my sister 
 and myself have schools, only music and dancing ; Gaston 
 does not approve of letters. The poor people have of 
 course their primary schools with their priests, and Gaston 
 does not interfere with them, but he regrets their existence 
 He looks upon reading and writing as very injurious to 
 education.' 
 
 Sometimes reposing on divans, the sisters received the 
 chief persons of the isle, and regaled them with fruits and 
 sweetmeats and coffee and sherbets, while Gaston's chi- 
 bouques and tobacco of Salonica were a proverb. These 
 meetings always ended with dance and song, replete, 
 according to ^Ir. Phoebus, with studies of Aryan life. 
 
 ' I believe these islanders to be an unmixed race,' said 
 Mr. Phoebus. ' The same form and visage prevails 
 throughout ; and very little changed in anything, even in 
 their religion.' 
 
 ' Unchanged in their religion ! ' said Lothair with some 
 astonishment.
 
 LOTHAIR. 387 
 
 ' Yes ; you will find it so. Their existence is easy ; 
 their wants are not great, and their means of subsistence 
 plentiful. They pass much of their life in what is called 
 amusement : and what is it ? They make parties of plea- 
 sure ; they go in procession to a fountain or a grove. They 
 dance and eat fruit, and they return home singing songs. 
 They have, in fact, been performing unconsciously the reli- 
 gious ceremonies of their ancestors, and which they pursue, 
 and will for ever, though they may have forgotten the name 
 of the dryad or the nymph who presides over their waters. 
 
 'I should think their priests would guard them from 
 these errors,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' The Greek priests, particularly in these Asian islands, 
 are good sort of people,' said Mr. Phoebus. ' They marry 
 and have generally large families, often very beautiful. 
 They have no sacerdotal feelings, for they never can have 
 any preferment ; all the high posts in the Greek Church 
 being reserved for the monks, who study what is called 
 theology. The Greek parish priest is not at all Semitic ; 
 there is nothing to counteract his Aryan tendencies. I 
 have already raised the statue of a nymph at one of their 
 favourite springs and places of pleasant pilgrimage, and I 
 have a statue now in the island, still in its case, which I 
 contemplate installing in a famous grove of laurel not for 
 off and very much resorted to.' 
 
 ' And what then ? ' enquired Lothair. 
 
 ' Well, I have a conviction that among the great races 
 the old creeds will come back,' said Mr. Phoebus, ' and it 
 will be acknowledged that true religion is the worship of 
 the beautiful. For the beautiful cannot be attained with- 
 out virtue, if virtue consists, as I believe, in the control of 
 the passions, in the sentiment of repose, and the avoidance 
 in all things of excess.' 
 
 One night Lothair was walking homo with the sisters 
 from a village festival, where they had been much amused.
 
 388 LOTHAIK. 
 
 * You have had a great many adventures since we first 
 met ? ' said Madame Phoebus. 
 
 * Which makes it seem longer ago than it really is,' said 
 Lothair. 
 
 ' You count time by emotion then ? ' said Euphrosyne. 
 
 ' Well, it is a wonderful thing however it be computed,' 
 said Lothair. 
 
 ' For my part, I do not think that it ought to bo counted 
 at all,' said Madame Phoebus ; ' and there is nothing to me 
 so detestable in Europe as the quantity of clocks and 
 watches.' 
 
 ' Do you use a watch, my Lord ? ' asked Euphrosyne in 
 a tone which always seemed to Lothair one of mocking 
 artlessness. 
 
 ' I believe I never wound it up when I had one,' said 
 Lothair. 
 
 ' But you make such good use of your time,' said 
 Madame Phoebus, ' you do not require watches.' 
 
 ' I am glad to hear I make good use of my time,' said 
 Lothair, but a little surprised. 
 
 ' But you are so good, so religious,' said Madame Phoebus. 
 ' That is a great thing ; especially for one so young.' 
 
 * Hem ! ' said Lothair. 
 
 ' That must have been a beautiful procession at Rome,' 
 said Euphrosyne. 
 
 ' I was rather a spectator of it than an actor in it,' said 
 Lothair with some seriousness. ' It is too long a tale to 
 enter into, but my part in those proceedings was entirely 
 misrepresented. ' 
 
 * I believe that nothing in the newspapers is ever tame,' 
 eaid Madame Phoebus. 
 
 ' And that is why they are so popular,' added Euphro- 
 eyne ; ' the taste of the age being so decidedly for fiction.' 
 
 ' Is it true that you escaped from a convent to Malta ? ' 
 said Madame Phoebus
 
 339 
 
 ' Not quite,' said Lotliair, ' but true enough for conver- 
 sation.' 
 
 'As confidential as the present, I suppose?' said 
 Euphrosyne. 
 
 ' Yes, when we are grave, as we are inclined to be now,' 
 said Lothair. 
 
 ' Then, you have been fighting a good deal,' said Madame 
 Phoebus. 
 
 ' You are putting me on a court martial, Madame 
 Phoebus,' said Lothair. 
 
 'But we do not know on which side you were,' said 
 Euphrosyne. 
 
 ' That is matter of history,' said Lothair, ' and that, you 
 know, is always doubtful.' 
 
 'Well, I do not like fighting,' said Madame Phoebus, 
 ' and for my part I never could find out that it did any 
 good.' 
 
 ' And what do you like ? ' said Lothair. ' Tell me how 
 would you pass your life ? ' 
 
 ' Well, much as I do. I do not know that I want any 
 change, except I think I should like it to be always 
 summer.' 
 
 ' And I would have perpetual spring,' said Euphrosyne. 
 
 ' But, summer or spring, what would be your favourite 
 pursuit ? ' 
 
 ' Well, dancing is very nice,' said Madame Phoebus. 
 
 ' But we cannot always be dancing,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Then we would sing,' said Euphrosyne. 
 
 ' But the time comes when one can neither dance nor 
 sing,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Oh ! then we become part of the audience,' said Madame 
 Phoabus, 'the people for whose amusement everybody 
 labours.' 
 
 ' And enjoy power without responsibility,' said Euphro- 
 syne, 'detect false notes and mark awkward gestures.
 
 390 LOTH AfR. 
 
 How can anyone doubt of Providence with such a system 
 of constant compensation ! ' 
 
 There was something in the society of these two sisters 
 that Lothair began to find highly attractive. Their ex- 
 traordinary beauty, their genuine and unflagging gaiety, 
 their thorough enjoyment of existence, and the variety of 
 resources with which they made life amusing and graceful, 
 all contributed to captivate him. They had, too, a great love 
 and knowledge both of art and nature, and insensibly they 
 weaned Lothair from that habit of introspection which, 
 though natural to him, he had too much indulged, and 
 taught him to find sources of interest and delight in ex- 
 ternal objects. He was beginning to feel happy in this 
 island, and wishing that his life might never change, when 
 one day Mr. Phoebus informed them that the Prince 
 Agathonides, the eldest son of the Prince of Samos, would 
 arrive from Constantinople in a few days, and would pay 
 them a visit. ' He will come with some retinue,' said Mr. 
 Phoebus, ' but I trust we shall be able by our reception to 
 show that the Cantacuzenes are not the only princely family 
 in the world.' 
 
 Mr. Phoebus was confident in his resources in this re- 
 spect, for his yacht's crew in their Venetian dresses could 
 always furnish a guard of honour which no Grecian prince 
 or Turkish pacha could easily rival. When the eventful 
 day arrived he was quite equal to the occasion. The yacht 
 was dressed in every part with the streaming colours of all 
 nations, the banner of Gaston Phcebus waved from his 
 pavilion, the guard of honour kept the ground, but the 
 population of the isle were present in numbers and in their 
 most showy costume, and a battery of ancient Turkish 
 guns fired a salute without an accident. 
 
 The Prince Agathonides was a youth, good looking and 
 dressed in a splendid Palikar costume, though his manners 
 were quite European, being an attach^ to the Turkish em.
 
 LOTHAIB. 391 
 
 bassy at Vienna. He had with him a sort of governor, a 
 secretary, servants in Mamlouk dresses, pipe-bearers, and 
 grooms, there being some horses as presents from his father 
 to Mr. Phoebus, and some rarely embroidered kerchiefs and 
 choice perfumes and Persian greyhounds for the ladies. 
 
 The arrival of the young Prince was the signal for a 
 series of entertainments in the island. First of all Mr. 
 Phoebus resolved to give a dinner in the Frank style, to 
 prove to Agathonides that there were other members of 
 the Cantacuzene family besides himself who comprehended 
 a firstrate Frank dinner. The chief people of the island 
 were invited to this banquet. They drank the choicest 
 grapes of France and Germany, were stuffed with truffles, 
 and sate on little cane chairs. But one might detect in 
 their countenances how they sighed for their easy divans, 
 their simple dishes, and their resinous wine. Then there 
 was a wolf-hunt, and other sport ; a great day of gymnasia, 
 many dances and much music ; in fact, there were choruses 
 all over the island, and every night was a serenade. 
 
 Why such general joy ? Because it was understood 
 that the heir apparent of the isle, their future sovereign, 
 bad in fact arrived to make his bow to the beautiful 
 Euphrosyne, though he saw her for the first time. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXTV". 
 
 VERT shortly after his arrival at Malta, Mr. Phoebus had 
 spoken to Lothair about Theodora. It appeared tfiat 
 Lucien Campian, though severely wounded, had escaped 
 with Garibaldi after the battle of Mentana into the Italian 
 territories. Here they were at once arrested, but not 
 severely detained, and Colonel Campian took the first
 
 LOTTTATR. 
 
 opportunity of revisiting England, where, after settling his 
 affairs, he had returned to his native country, from which 
 10 had been separated for many years. Mr. Phoebus 
 during the interval had seen a great deal of him, and the 
 Colonel departed for America under the impression that 
 Lothair had been among the slain at the final struggle. 
 
 ' Campian is one of the best men I ever knew,' said 
 Phoebus. ' He was a remarkable instance of energy com- 
 bined with softness of disposition. In my opinion, how- 
 ever, he ought never to have visited Europe : he was made 
 to clear the back woods, and govern man by the power of 
 his hatchet and the mildness of his words. He was fight- 
 ing for freedom all his life, yet slavery made and slavery 
 destroyed him. Among all the freaks of fate nothing is 
 more surprising than that this Transatlantic planter should 
 have been ordained to be the husband of a divine being, a 
 true Hellenic goddess, who in the good days would have 
 been worshipped in this country and have inspired her 
 race to actions of grace, wisdom, and beauty.' 
 
 'I greatly esteem him,' said Lothair, 'and I shall write 
 to him directly.' 
 
 ' Except by Campian, who spoke probably about you to 
 no one save myself,' continued Phcabus, ' your name has 
 never been mentioned with reference to those strange 
 transactions.- Once there was a sort of rumour that you 
 had met with some mishap, but these things were contra- 
 dicted and explained, and then forgotten : and people were 
 all out of town. I believe that Cardinal Grandison com- 
 municated with your man of business, and between them 
 everything was kept quiet, until this portentous account 
 of your doings at Borne, which transpired after we left 
 England and which met us at Malta.' 
 
 ' I have written to my man of business about that,' said 
 Lothair, ' but I think it will tax all his ingenuity to ex- 
 plain, or to mystify it as successfully as he did the pre-
 
 LOTHAIR. 393 
 
 ceding adventures. At any rate, he will not have the 
 assistance of my Lord Cardinal.' 
 
 ' Theodora was a remarkable woman on many accounts,' 
 said Mr. Phoebus, ' but particularly on this, that, although 
 one of the most beautiful women that ever existed, she was 
 adored by beautiful women. My wife adored her ; Euphro- 
 syne, who has no enthusiasm, adored her ; the Princess of 
 Tivoli, the most capricious being probably that ever existed, 
 adored, and always adored, Theodora. I think it must 
 have been that there was on her part a total absence of 
 vanity, and this the more strange in one whose vocation in 
 her earlier life had been to attract and live on popular 
 applause ; but I have seen her quit theatres ringing with 
 admiration and enter her carriage with the serenity of a 
 Phidian muse.' 
 
 'I adored her,' said Lothair, 'but I never could quite 
 solve her character. Perhaps it was too rich and deep for 
 rapid comprehension.' 
 
 'We shall never perhaps see her like again,' said Mr. 
 Phoebus. ' It was a rare combination, peculiar to the 
 Tyrrhenian sea. I am satisfied that we must go there to 
 find the pure Hellenic blood, and from thence it got to 
 Home.' 
 
 ' We may not see her like again, but we may see her 
 again,' said Lothair ; ' and sometimes I think siie is always 
 hovering over me.' 
 
 In this vein, when they were alone, they were frequently 
 speaking of the departed ; and one day (it was before the 
 arrival of Prince Agathonides), Mr. Phoebus said to 
 Lothair, ' We will ride this morning to what we call the 
 grove of Daphne. It is a real laurel grove. Some of the 
 trees must be immemorial, and deserve to have been 
 sacred, if once they were not so. In their huge grotesque 
 forms you would not easily recognise your polished friends 
 of Europe, so trim and glossy and shrublike. The people
 
 394 LOTHAIE. 
 
 are very fond of this grove and make frequent processions 
 there. Once a year they must be headed by their priest. 
 No one knows why, nor has he the slightest idea of the 
 reason of the various ceremonies which he that day per- 
 forms. But we know, and some day he or his successors 
 will equally understand them. Yes, if I remain here long 
 enough, and I sometimes think I will never again quit the 
 isle, I shall expect some fine summer night, when there is 
 that rich stillness which the whispering waves only render 
 more intense, to hear a voice of music on the mountains 
 declaring that the god Pan has returned to earth.' 
 
 It was a picturesque ride, as every ride was on this 
 island, skirting the sylvan hills with the sea glimmering in 
 the distance. Lothair was pleased with the approaches to 
 the sacred grove : now and then a single tree with grey 
 branches and a green head, then a great spread of under- 
 wood, all laurel, and then spontaneous plantations of young 
 trees. 
 
 ' There was always a vacant space in the centre of the 
 grove,' said Mr. Phoebus, ' once sadly overrun with wild 
 shrubs, but I have cleared it and restored the genius of the 
 spot. See ! ' 
 
 They entered the sacred circle and beheld a statue raised 
 on a porphyry pedestal. The light fell with magical effect 
 on the face of the statue. It was the statue of Theodora, 
 the placing of which in the pavilion of Belmont Mr 
 Phoebus was superintending when Lothair first made his 
 acquaintance.
 
 LOTHAIE. 395 
 
 CHAPTER LXXV. 
 
 THE Prince Agathonides seemed quite to monopolise the 
 attention of Madame Phoebus and her sister. This was 
 not very unreasonable, considering that he was their 
 visitor, the future chief of their house, and had brought 
 them so many embroidered pocket-handkerchiefs, choice 
 scents and fancy dogs. But Lothair thought it quite dis- 
 gusting, nor could he conceive what they saw in him, what 
 they were talking about or laughing about, for, so far as he 
 had been able to form any opinion on the subject, the 
 Prince was a shallow-pated coxcomb without a single 
 quality to charm any woman of sense and spirit. Lothair 
 began to consider how he could pursue his travels, where 
 he should go to, and when that was settled, how he should 
 get there. 
 
 Just at this moment of perplexity, as is often the case, 
 something occurred which no one could foresee, but which 
 like every event removed some difficulties and introduced 
 others. 
 
 There arrived at the island a despatch forwarded to Mr 
 Phoebus by the Russian Ambassador at Constantinople, 
 who had received it from his colleague at London. This 
 despatch contained a proposition to Mr. Phoebus to repaii 
 to the Court of St. Petersburgh, and accept appointments 
 of high distinction and emolument. Without in any way 
 restricting the independent pursuit of his profession, he 
 was offered a large salary, the post of Court painter, and 
 the Presidency of the Academy of Fine Arts. Of such 
 moment did the Russian Government deem the official 
 presence of this illustrious artist in their country, that it 
 was intimated, if the arrangement could be effected, its 
 conclusion might be celebrated by conferring on Mr.
 
 396 LOTH AIR. 
 
 Phoobus a patent of nobility and a decoration of a high 
 class. The despatch contained a private letter from an 
 exalted member of the Imperial family, who had had the 
 high and gratifying distinction of making Mr. Phoebus's 
 acquaintance in London, personally pressing the acceptance 
 by him of the general proposition, assuring him of cordial 
 welcome and support, and informing Mr. Phoebus that 
 what was particularly desired at this moment was a series 
 of paintings illustrative of some of the most memorable 
 scenes in the Holy Land and especially the arrival of the 
 pilgrims of the Greek rite at Jerusalem. As for this 
 purpose he would probably like to visit Palestine, the 
 whole of the autumn or even a longer period was placed 
 at his disposal, so that, enriched with all necessary draw- 
 ings and studies, he might achieve his more elaborate 
 performances in Russia at his leisure and with every 
 advantage. 
 
 Considering that the great objects in life with Mr. 
 Phoebus were to live in an Aryan country, amid an Aryan 
 race, and produce works which should revive for the 
 benefit of human nature Aryan creeds, a proposition to 
 pass some of the prime years of his life among the Mon- 
 golian race, and at the same time devote his pencil to the 
 celebration of Semitic subjects, was startling. 
 
 ' I shall say nothing to Madame Phoebus until the Prince 
 has gone,' he remarked to Lothair : ' he will go the day after 
 to-morrow. I do not know what they may offer to make 
 me ; probably only a Baron, perhaps a Count. But you 
 know in Russia a man may become a Prince, and I cer- 
 tainly should like those Cantacuzenes to feel that after all 
 their daughter is a Princess with no thanks to them. The 
 climate is detestable, but one owes much to one's profes- 
 sion. Art would be honoured at a great, perhaps the 
 greatest, Court. There would not be a fellow at his easel 
 in the streets about Fitzroy Square who would not be
 
 LOTHAIR. 397 
 
 prouder. I wonder what the decoration will be. " Of a 
 high class ; " vague. It might be Alexander Newsky. 
 You know you. have a right, whatever your decoration, to 
 have it expressed, of course at your own expense, in bril- 
 liants. I confess I have my weaknesses. I should like to 
 get orer to the Academy dinner (one can do anything in 
 these days of railroads) and dine with the R. A.s in my 
 ribbon and the star of the Alexander Newsky in brilliants. 
 I think every Academician would feel elevated. What I 
 detest are their Semitic subjects, nothing but drapery. 
 They cover even their heads in those scorching climes. 
 Can anyone make anything of a caravan of pilgrims ? To 
 be sure, they say no one can draw a camel. If I went to 
 Jerusalem a camel would at last be drawn. There is 
 something in that. We must think over these things, and 
 when the Prince has gone talk it over with Madame Phoe- 
 bus. I wish you all to come to a wise decision, without 
 the slightest reference to my individual tastes or, it may 
 be, prejudices.' 
 
 The result of all this was that Mr. Phcebus, without 
 absolutely committing himself, favourably entertained the 
 general proposition of the Russian Court ; while, with 
 respect to their particular object in art, he agreed to visit 
 Palestine and execute at least one work for his Imperial 
 friend and patron. He counted on reaching Jerusalem 
 before the Easter pilgrims returned to their homes. 
 
 ' If they would make me a Prince at once and give me 
 the Alexander Newsky in brilliants it might be worth 
 thinking of,' he said to Lothair. 
 
 The ladies, though they loved their isle, were quite 
 delighted with the thought of going to Jerusalem. Ma- 
 dame Phoobus knew a Russian Grand Duchess who had 
 boasted to her that she had been both to Jerusalem and 
 Torquay, and Madame Phcebus had felt quite ashamed 
 that she had been to neither.
 
 398 LOTHAIR. 
 
 ' I suppose you will feel quite at home there,' said 
 Euphrosyne to Lothair. 
 
 ' No ; I never was there.' 
 
 ' No ; but you know all ahout those places and people, 
 holy places and holy persons. The Blessed Virgin did not, 
 I believe, appear to you. It was to a young lady, was it 
 not ? We were asking each other last night who the 
 young lady could be.' 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVI. 
 
 TIME, which changes everything, is changing even the 
 traditionary appearance of forlorn Jerusalem. Not that 
 its mien, after all, was ever very sad. Its airy site, its 
 splendid mosque, its vast monasteries, the bright material 
 of which the whole city is built, its cupolaed houses of 
 freestone, and above all the towers and gates and battle- 
 ments of its lofty and complete walls, always rendered it a 
 handsome city. Jerusalem has not been sacked so often 
 or so recently as the other two great ancient cities, Rome 
 and Athens. Its vicinage was never more desolate than 
 the Campagna, or the state of Attica and the Morea in 
 1830. 
 
 The battlefield of western Asia from the days of the 
 Assyrian kings to those of Mehemet Ali, Palestine endured 
 the same devastation as in modern times has been the 
 doom of Flanders and the Milanese; but the years of 
 havoc in the Low Countries and Lombardy must be 
 counted in Palestine by centuries. Yet the wide plains of 
 the Holy Land, Sharon and Shechem and Esdraelon, have 
 recovered ; they are as fertile and as fair as in old days ; ife 
 is the hill culture that has been destroyed, and that is the 
 culture on which Jerusalem mainly depended. Its
 
 LOTHAIR. 399 
 
 wore terraced gardens, vineyards, and groves of olive trees. 
 And here it is that we find renovation. The terraces are 
 again ascending the stony heights, and the eye is fre- 
 quently gladdened with young plantations. Fruit trees, 
 the peach and the pomegranate, the almond and the fig, 
 offer gracious groups ; and the true children of the land, 
 the vine and the olive, are again exulting in their native 
 soil. 
 
 There is one spot, however, which has been neglected, 
 and yet the one that should have been the first remembered, 
 as it has been the most rudely wasted. Blessed be the 
 hand which plants trees upon Olivet ! Blessed be the 
 hand that builds gardens about Sion ! 
 
 The most remarkable creation, however, in modern 
 Jerusalem is the Russian settlement which within a few 
 years has risen on the elevated ground on the western side 
 of the city. The Latin, the Greek, and the Armenian 
 Churches had for centuries possessed enclosed establish- 
 ments in the city, which, under the name of monasteries, 
 provided shelter and protection for hundreds, it might be 
 said even thousands, of pilgrims belonging to their respec- 
 tive rites. The great scale, therefore, on which Russia 
 secured hospitality for her subjects was not in reality so 
 remarkable as the fact that it seemed to indicate a settled 
 determination to separate the Muscovite Church altogether 
 from the Greek, and throw off what little dependence is 
 still acknowledged on the Patriarchate of Constantinople. 
 Whatever the motive, the design has been accomplished 
 on a large scale. The Russian buildings, all well defended, 
 are a caravanserai, a cathedral, a citadel. The consular flag 
 crowns the height and indicates the office of administration ; 
 priests and monks are permanent inhabitants, and a whole 
 caravan of Muscovite pilgrims and the trades on which 
 they depend can be accommodated within the precinct. 
 
 Mr. Phoebus, his family and suite were to be the gueste
 
 400 LOTHAIR. 
 
 of the Russian Consul, and every preparation was made to 
 insure the celebrated painter a becoming reception. Fre- 
 quent telegrams had duly impressed the representative of 
 all the E/ussias in the Holy Land with the importance of 
 his impending visitor. Even the qualified and strictly 
 provisional acceptance of the Russian proposition by Mr. 
 Phoebus had agitated the wires of Europe scarcely less 
 than a suggested Conference. 
 
 'An artist should always remember what he owes to 
 posterity and his profession,' said Mr. Phoebus to Lo- 
 thair, as they were walking the deck, ' even if you can 
 distinguish between them, which I doubt, for it is only by 
 a sense of the beautiful that the human family can be 
 sustained in its proper place in the scale of creation, at.d 
 the sense of the beautiful is a result of the study of the 
 fine arts. It would be something to sow the seeds of 
 organic change in the Mongolian type, but I am not 
 sanguine of success. There is no original fund of aptitude 
 to act upon. The most ancient of existing communities ia 
 Turanian, and yet though they could invent gunpowder 
 and the mariner's compass, they never could understand 
 perspective. Man a-head there ! tell Madame Phcebus to 
 come on deck for the first sight of Mount Lebanon.' 
 
 When the ' Pan ' entered the port of Joppa they observed 
 another English yacht in those waters ; but before they 
 could speculate on its owner they were involved in all the 
 complications of landing. On the quay, the Russian Vice- 
 Consul was in attendance with horses and mules, and 
 donkeys handsomer than either. The ladies were delighted 
 with the vast orange gardens of Joppa, which Madame 
 Phoabus said realised quite her idea of the Holy Land. 
 
 'I was prepared for milk and honey,' said Euphrosyne, 
 ' but this is too delightful,' as she travelled through lanes 
 of date-bearing palm-trees, and sniffed with her almond- 
 shaped nostrils the all-pervading fragrance.
 
 LOTHAIR. 401 
 
 They passed the night at Arimathea, a pretty village 
 surrounded with gardens enclosed with hedges of prickly 
 pear. Here they found hospitality in an old convent, but 
 all the comforts of Europe and many of the refinements of 
 Asia had been forwarded for their accommodation. 
 
 ' It is a great homage to art,' said Mr. Phoebus, as he 
 scattered his gold like a great seigneur of Gascony. 
 
 The next day, two miles from Jerusalem, the Consul 
 met them with a cavalcade, and the ladies assured their 
 host that they were not at all wearied with their journey, 
 but were quite prepared, in due time, to join his dinner 
 party, which he was most anxious they should attend, as 
 he had ' two English lords ' who had arrived, and whom 
 he had invited to meet them. They were all curious to 
 know their names, though that, unfortunately, the Consul 
 could not tell them, but he had sent to the English Consu- 
 late to have them written down. All he could assure 
 them was that they were real English lords, not travelling 
 English lords, but in sober earnestness great personages. 
 
 Mr. Phoebus was highly gratified. He was pleased with 
 his reception. There was nothing he liked much more 
 than a procession. He was also a sincere admirer of the 
 aristocracy of his country. ' On the whole,' he would say, 
 ' they most resemble the old Hellenic race ; excelling in 
 athletic sports, speaking no other language than their own, 
 and never reading.' 
 
 'Tour fault,' he would sometimes say to Lothair, 'and 
 the cause of many of your sorrows, is the habit of mental 
 introspection. Man is born to observe, but if he falls into 
 psychology he observes nothing, and then he is astonished 
 that life has no charms for him, or that, never seizing the oc- , 
 casion, his career is a failure. No, sir, it is the eye that must 
 be occupied and cultivated ; no one knows the capacity of the 
 eye who has not developed it, or the visions of beauty and 
 delight and inexhaustible interest which it commands. To 
 
 DD
 
 402 LOTHAIR. 
 
 a man who observes, life is as different as the existence of a 
 dreaming psychologist is to that of the animals of the field.' 
 
 ' I fear,' said Lothair, ' that I have at length found out 
 the truth, and that I am a dreaming psychologist.' 
 
 ' You are young and not irremediably lost,' said Mr. 
 Phoebus. 'Fortunately you have received the admirable 
 though partial education of your class. You are a good 
 shot, you can ride, you can row, you can swim. That im- 
 perfect secretion of the brain which is called thought has 
 not yet bowed your frame. You have not had time to read 
 much. Give it up altogether. The conversation of a 
 woman like Theodora is worth all the libraries in the 
 world. If it were only for her sake, I should wish to save 
 you, but I wish to do it for your own. Yes, profit by the 
 vast though calamitous experience which you have gained 
 in a short time. We may know a great deal about our 
 bodies, we can know very little about our minds.' 
 
 The ' real English lords ' turned out to be Bertram and 
 St. Aldegonde returning from Nubia. They had left Eng- 
 land about the same time as Lothair, and had paired to- 
 gether on the Irish Church till Easter, with a sort of secret 
 hope on the part of St. Aldegonde that they might neither 
 of them reappear in the House of Commons again until the 
 Irish Church were either saved or subverted. Holy week had 
 long passed, and they were at Jerusalem, not quite so near 
 the House of Commons as the Heform Club or the Carlton, 
 but still St. Aldegonde had mentioned that he was begin- 
 ning to be bored with Jerusalem, and Bertram counted on 
 their immediate departure when they accepted the invita- 
 tion to dine with the Russian Consul. 
 
 Lothair was unaffectedly delighted to meet Bertram and 
 glad to see St. Aldegonde, but he was a little nervous and 
 embarrassed as to the probable tone of his reception by 
 them. But their manner relieved him in an instant, for 
 he saw they knew nothing of his adventures.
 
 LOTHAIR. 403 
 
 'Well,' said St. Aldegonde, 'what have yon "been doing 
 with yonrsetf since we last met? I wish you had como 
 with ns and had a shot at a crocodile.' 
 
 Bertram told Lothair in the course of the evening that 
 he found letters at Cairo from Corisande, on his return, in 
 which there was a good deal ahout Lothair, and which had 
 made him rather uneasy. ' That there was a rumour you 
 had been badly wounded, and some other things,' and 
 Bertram looked him full in the face ; ' but I dare say not a 
 word of truth.' 
 
 ' I was never better in my life,' said Lothair, ' and I 
 have been in Sicily and in Greece. However, we will talk 
 over all this another time.' 
 
 The dinner at the Consulate was one of the most success- 
 ful banquets that were ever given, if to please your guesta 
 be the test of good fortune in such enterprises. St. Alde- 
 gonde was perfectly charmed with the Phoebus family. 
 He did not know which to admire most : the great artist, 
 who was in remarkable spirits to-day, considering he 
 was in a Semitic country, or his radiant wife, or his 
 brilliant sister-in-law. St. Aldegonde took an early oppor- 
 tunity of informing Bertram that if he liked to go 
 over and vote for the Irish Church he would release 
 him from his pair with the greatest pleasure, but for 
 his part he had not the slightest intention of leaving 
 Jerusalem at present. Strange to say, Bertram received 
 this intimation without a murmur.' He was not so loud 
 in his admiration of the Phoebus family as St. Aldegonde, 
 but there is a silent sentiment sometimes more expressive 
 than the noisiest applause, and more dangerous. Bertram 
 had sat next to Euphrosyne and was entirely spell-bound. 
 
 The Consul's wife, a hostess not unworthy of such 
 
 guests, had entertained her friends in 'the European style. 
 
 The dinner-hour was not late, and the gentlemen who 
 
 attended the ladies from the dinner-table were allowed to 
 
 D r 2
 
 404 LOTHAIR. 
 
 remain some time in the saloon. Lothair talked much to 
 the Consul's wife, by whose side sat Madame Phoebus. St. 
 Aldegonde was always on his legs, distracted by the rival 
 attractions of that lady and her husband. More remote, 
 Bertram whispered to Euphrosyne, who answered him with 
 laughing eyes. 
 
 At a certain hour, the Consul, attended by his male 
 guests, crossing a court, proceeded to his divan, a lofty and 
 capacious chamber painted in fresco, and with no furniture 
 except the low but broad raised seat that surrounded the 
 room. Here, when they were seated, an equal number of 
 attendants (Arabs in Arab dress, blue gowns and red 
 slippers and red caps) entered, each proffering a long pipe 
 of cherry or jasmine wood. Then in a short time guests 
 dropped in, and pipes and coffee were immediately brought 
 io them. Any person who had been formally presented to 
 the Consul had this privilege, without any further invita- 
 tion. The society often found in these consular divans in 
 the more remote places of the east, Cairo, Damascus, Je- 
 rusalem, is often extremely entertaining and instructive. 
 Celebrated travellers, distinguished men of science, artists, 
 adventurers who ultimately turn out to be heroes, eccen- 
 tric characters of all kinds, are here encountered, and give 
 the fruits of their original or experienced observation with- 
 out reserve. 
 
 ' It is the smoking-room over again,' whispered St. Al- 
 degonde to Lothair, ' only in England one is so glad to get 
 away from the women, but here, I must say, I should have 
 liked to remain behind.' 
 
 An individual in a Syrian dress, fawn-coloured robes 
 girdled with a rich shawl, and a white turban, entered. 
 He made his salute with grace and dignity to the Consul, 
 touching his forehead, his lip, and his heart, and took his 
 seat with the air of one not unaccustomed to be received, play- 
 ing, until he received his chibouque, with a chaplet of beads.
 
 LOTHAIR. 405 
 
 * That is a good-looking fellow, Lothair,' said St, Alde- 
 gonde ;' or is it the dress that turns them out such swells ? 
 I feel quite a lout by some of these fellows.' 
 
 ' I think he would be good-looking in any dress,' said 
 Lothair. ' A remarkable countenance.' 
 
 It was an oval visage, with features in harmony with 
 that form ; large dark-brown eyes and lashes, and brows 
 delicately but completely defined ; no hair upon the face 
 except a beard, full but not long. He seemed about the 
 same age as Mr. Phcebus, and his complexion, though pale, 
 was clear and fair. 
 
 The conversation, after some rambling, had got upon 
 the Suez Canal. Mr. Phcebus did not care for the political 
 or the commercial consequences of that great enterprise, 
 but he was glad that a natural division should be established 
 between the greater races and the Ethiopian. It might 
 not lead to any considerable result, but it asserted a prin- 
 ciple. He looked upon that trench as a protest. 
 
 ' But would you place the Nilotic family in the Ethio- 
 pian race ? ' enquired the Syrian in a voice commanding 
 from its deep sweetness. 
 
 ' I would certainly. They were Cushim, and that means 
 negroes.' 
 
 The Syrian did not agree with Mr. Phoebus ; he stated 
 his views firmly and clearly, but without urging them. 
 Ho thought that we must look to the Pelasgi as the 
 colonising race that had peopled and produced Egypt. 
 The mention of the Pelasgi fired Mr. Phcebus to even un- 
 usual eloquence. He denounced the Pelasgi as a barbarous 
 race : men of gloomy superstitions who, had it not been 
 for the Hellenes, might have fatally arrested the human' 
 development. The triumph of the Hellenes was the tri- 
 umph of the beautiful, and all that is great and good in 
 life was owing to their victory. 
 
 ' It is difficult to ascertain what is great in life,' said tho
 
 406 LOTHAIR. 
 
 Syrian, ' because nations differ on the subject and ages. 
 Some, for example, consider war to be a great thing, others 
 condemn it. I remember also when patriotism was a 
 boast, and now it is a controversy. But it is not so diffi- 
 cult to ascertain what is good. For man has in his own 
 being some guide to such knowledge, and divine aid to 
 acquire it has not been wanting to him. For my part I 
 could not maintain that the Hellenic system led to virtue.' 
 
 The conversation was assuming an ardent character 
 when the Consul, as a diplomatist, turned the channel. 
 Mr. Phoebus had vindicated the Hellenic religion, the 
 Syrian, with a terse protest against the religion of nature, 
 however idealised, as tending to the corruption of man, had 
 let the question die away, and the Divan were discussing 
 dromedaries, and dancing girls, and sherbet made of pome- 
 granate which the Consul recommended and ordered to be 
 produced. Some of the guests retired, and among them 
 the Syrian, with the same salute and the same graceful 
 dignity as had distinguished his entrance. 
 
 ' Who is that man ? ' said Mr. Phoebus. ' I met him at 
 Rome ten years ago. Baron Mecklenburg brought him to 
 me to paint for my great picture of St. John, which is in 
 the gallery of Munich. He said in his way (you remember 
 his way) that he would bring me a face of Paradise.' 
 
 ' I cannot exactly tell you his name,' said the Consul. 
 ' Prince Galitzin brought him here and thought highly ot 
 him. I believe he is one of the old Syrian families in the 
 mountain ; but whether he be a Maronite, or a Druse, or 
 anything else, I really cannot say. Now try the sherbet.'
 
 LOTHAIH. 407 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVII. 
 
 are few things finer than the morning view of 
 Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives. The fresh and 
 golden light falls on a walled city with turrets and towers 
 and frequent gates : the houses of freestone with terraced 
 or oval roofs sparkle in the sun, while the cupolaed pile of 
 the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the vast monasteries, 
 and the broad steep of Sion crowned with the Tower of 
 David, vary the monotony of the general masses of build- 
 ing. But the glory of the scene is the Mosque of Omar as 
 it rises on its broad platform of marble from the deep 
 ravine of Kedron, with its magnificent dome high in the 
 air, its arches and gardened courts, and its crescents glit- 
 tering amid the cedar, the cypress, and the palm. 
 
 Reclining on Olivet, Lothair, alone and in charmed 
 abstraction, gazed on the wondrous scene/ Since his 
 arrival at Jerusalem he lived much apart, nor had he 
 found difficulty in effecting this isolation. Mr. Phoebus 
 had already established a studio on a considerable scale, 
 and was engaged in making sketches of pilgrims and 
 monks, tall donkeys of Bethlehem with starry fronts, in 
 which he much delighted, and grave Jellaheen sheiks who 
 were hanging about the convents in the hopes of obtaining 
 ft convoy to the Dead Sea. As for St. Aldegonde and Ber- 
 tram, they passed their lives at the Russian Consulate, or 
 with its most charming inhabitants. This morning, with 
 the Consul and his wife and the matchless sisters, as 
 St. Aldegonde always termed them, they had gone on an 
 excursion to the Convent of the Nativity. Dinner usually 
 reassembled all the party, and then the Divan followed. 
 
 'I say, Bertram,' said St. Aldegonde, 'what a lucky 
 thing wo paired and went to Nubia! I rejoice in the
 
 408 LOTHAIR. 
 
 Divan, and yet somehow I cannot bear leaving thobe 
 women. If the matchless sisters would only smoke, by 
 Jove they would be perfect ! ' 
 
 ' I should not like Euphrosyne to smoke,' said Bertram. 
 
 A person approached Lothair by the pathway from 
 Bethany. It was the Syrian gentleman whom he had met 
 at the Consulate. As he was passing Lothair, he saluted 
 him with the grace which had been before remarked, and 
 Lothair, who was by nature courteous, and even inclined a 
 little to ceremony in his manners, especially with those 
 with whom he was not intimate, immediately rose, as he 
 would not receive such a salutation in a reclining posture. 
 
 ' Let me not disturb you,' said the stranger, ' or if we 
 must be on equal terms, let me also be seated, for this is a 
 view that never palls.' 
 
 * It is perhaps familiar to you,' said Lothair, ' but with 
 me, only a pilgrim, its effect is fascinating, almost over- 
 whelming.' 
 
 'The view of Jerusalem never becomes familiar,' said 
 the Syrian, ' for its associations are so transcendent, so 
 various, so inexhaustible, that the mind can never antici- 
 pate its course of thought and feeling, when one sits, as 
 we do now, on this immortal mount.' 
 
 ' I presume you live here ? ' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Not exactly,' said his companion. ' I have recently 
 built a house without the walls, and I have planted my 
 hill with fruit-trees and made vineyards and olive-grounds ; 
 but I have done this as much, perhaps more, to set an 
 example, which I am glad to say has been followed, as for 
 my own convenience or pleasure. My home is in the North 
 of Palestine on the other side of Jordan, beyond the Sea of 
 Galilee. My family has dwelt there from time immemorial ; 
 but they always loved this city, and have a legend that 
 thev dwelt occasionally within its walls, even in the days 
 when Titus from that hill looked down upon the temple.'
 
 LOTHAIR. 409 
 
 *I have often \\ished to visit the Sea of Galilee,' said 
 Lothair. 
 
 * Well, you have now an opportunity,' said the Syrian ; 
 * the North of Palestine, though it has no tijopical splen- 
 dour, has much variety and a peculiar natural charm. 
 The burst and brightness of spring have not yet quite 
 vanished : you would find our plains radiant with wild 
 flowers, and our hills green with young crops ; and though 
 we cannot rival Lebanon, we have forest glades among our 
 famous hills that when once seen are remembered.' 
 
 ' But there is something to me more interesting than the 
 splendour of tropical scenery,' said Lothair, ' even if 
 Galilee could offer it. I wish to visit the cradle of my faith.' 
 
 'And you would do wisely,' said the Syrian, ' for there 
 is no doubt the spiritual nature of man is developed in 
 this land.' 
 
 ' And yet there are persons at the present day who 
 doubt, even deny, the spiritual nature of man,' said Lothair. 
 ' I do not, I could not ; there are reasons why I could not.' 
 
 ' There are some things I know, and some things I 
 believe,' said the Syrian. ' I know that I have a soul, and 
 I believe that it is immortal.' 
 
 ' It is science that by demonstrating the insignificance of 
 this globe in the vast scale of creation has led to this in- 
 fidelity,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Science may prove the insignificance of this globe in 
 the scale of creation,' said the stranger, ' but it cannot 
 prove the insignificance of man. What is the earth com- 
 pared with the sun ? a molehill by a mountain ; yet the 
 inhabitants of this earth can discover the elements of which 
 the great orb consists, and will probably ere long ascertain, 
 all the conditions of its being. Nay, the Imman mind can 
 penetrate far beyond the sun. There is no relation there- 
 fore between the faculties of man and the scale in creation 
 of the planet which he inhabits.'
 
 410 LOTHAIR. 
 
 ' I was glad to hear you assert the other night the 
 spiritual nature of man in opposition to Mr. Phoebus.' 
 
 ' Ah ! Mr. Phoebus ! ' said the stranger -with a smile 
 ' He is an old acquaintance of mine. And I must say he 
 is very consistent, except in paying a visit to Jerusalem. 
 That does surprise me. He said to me the other night 
 the same things as he said to me at Borne many years ago. 
 He would revive the worship of nature. The deities whom 
 he so eloquently describes and so exquisitely delineates are 
 the ideal personifications of the most eminent human quali- 
 ties and chiefly the physical. Physical beauty is his 
 standard of excellence, and he has a fanciful theory that 
 moral order would be the consequence of the worship of 
 physical beauty, for without moral order he holds phy- 
 sical beauty cannot be maintained. But the answer to 
 Mr. Phoebus is, that his system has been tried and has 
 failed, and under conditions more favourable than are 
 likely to exist again ; the worship of nature ended in the 
 degradation of the human race.' 
 
 ' But Mr. Phoebus cannot really believe in Apollo and 
 Venus,' said Lothair. ' These are phrases. He is, I sup- 
 pose, what is called a Pantheist.' 
 
 ' No doubt the Olympus of Mr. Phoebus is the creation 
 of his easel,' replied the Syrian. ' I should not, however, 
 describe him as a Pantheist, whose creed requires more 
 abstraction than Mr. Phoebus, the worshipper of nature, 
 would tolerate. His school never care to pursue any in- 
 vestigation which cannot be followed by the eye, and the 
 worship of the beautiful always ends in an orgy. As for 
 Pantheism, it is Atheism in domino. The belief in a 
 Creator who is unconscious of creating is more monstrous 
 than any dogma of any of the Churches in this city, and 
 we have them all here.' 
 
 ' But there are people now who tell you that there never 
 was any Creation, and therefore there never could have 
 been a Creator,' said Lothair.
 
 LOTHAIR. 411 
 
 * And which is now advanced with the confidence of 
 novelty,' said the Syrian, ' though all of it has been urged, 
 and vainly urged, thousands of years ago. There must 
 be design, or all we see would be without sense, and I do 
 not believe in the unmeaning. As for the natural forces 
 to which all creation is now attributed, we know they are 
 unconscious, while consciousness is as inevitable a portion 
 of our existence as the eye or the hand. The conscious 
 cannot be derived from the unconscious. Man is divine.' 
 
 * I wish I could assure myself of the personality of the 
 Creator,' said Lothair. ' I cling to that, but they say it is 
 unphilosophical.' 
 
 ' In what sense ? ' asked the Syrian. ' Is it more un- 
 philosophical to believe in a personal God, omnipotent and 
 omniscient, than in natural forces unconscious and irre- 
 sistible ? Is it unphilosophical to combine power with 
 intelligence ? Goethe, a Spinozist who did not believe in 
 Spinoza, said that he could bring his mind to the concep- 
 tion that in the centre of space we might meet with a 
 monad of pure intelligence. What may be the centre of 
 space I leave to the daedal imagination of the author of 
 " Faust ;" but a monad of pure intelligence, is that more 
 philosophical than the truth, first revealed to man amid 
 these everlasting hills,' said the Syrian, ' that God made 
 man in His own image ? ' 
 
 ' I have often found in that assurance a source of sublime 
 consolation,' said Lothair. 
 
 'It is the charter of the nobility of man,' said the 
 Syrian, * one of the divine dogmas revealed in this land ; 
 not the invention of Councils, not one of which was held 
 on this sacred soil : confused assemblies first got together 
 by the Greeks, and then by barbarous nations in barbarous 
 times.' 
 
 'Yet the divine land no longer tells us divine things,' 
 Lothair.
 
 412 LOTHAIR. 
 
 ' It may, or it may not, have fulfilled its destiny,' said 
 the Syrian. ' " In My Father's house are many mansions," 
 and by the various families of nations the designs of the 
 Creator are accomplished. God works by races, and one 
 was appointed in due season and after many developments 
 to reveal and expound in this land the spiritual nature of 
 man. The Aryan and the Semite are of the same blood 
 and origin, but when they quitted their central land they 
 were ordained to follow opposite courses. Each division of 
 the great race has developed one portion of the double 
 nature of humanity, till after all their wanderings they met 
 again, and, represented by their two choicest families, the 
 Hellenes and the Hebrews, brought together the treasures 
 of their accumulated wisdom and secured the civilisation of 
 man.' 
 
 ' Those among whom I have lived of late,' said Lothair, 
 ' have taught me to trust much in Councils, and to believe 
 that without them there could be no foundation for the 
 Church. I observe you do not speak in that vein, though 
 like myself you find solace in those dogmas which recognise 
 the relations between the created and the Creator.' 
 
 ' There can be no religion without that recognition,' said 
 the Syrian, ' and no creed can possibly be devised without 
 such a recognition that would satisfy man. Why we are 
 here, whence we come, whither we go, these are questions 
 which man is organically framed and forced to ask himself, 
 and that would not be the case if they could not be 
 answered. As for Churches depending on Councils, the 
 first Council was held more than three centuries after the 
 Sermon on the Mount. We Syrians had churches in the 
 interval : no one can deny that. I bow before the Divine 
 decree that swept them away from Antioch to Jerusalem, 
 but I am not yet prepared to transfer my spiritual allegiance 
 to Italian Popes and Greek Patriarchs. We believe that 
 our family were among the first followers of Jesus, and
 
 LOTHAIR. 413 
 
 that we then held lands in Bashan which we hold now. 
 We had a gospel once in our district where there was some 
 allusion to this, and being written by neighbours, and 
 probably at the time, I dare say it was accurate, but the 
 Western Churches declared our gospel was not authentic, 
 though why I cannot tell, and they succeeded in extirpating 
 it. It was not an additional reason why we should enter 
 into their fold. So I am content to dwell in Galilee and 
 trace the footsteps of my divine Master ; musing over His 
 nfe and pregnant sayings amid the mounts He sanctified 
 and the waters He loved so well.' 
 
 The sun was now rising in the heavens, and the hour 
 had arrived when it became expedient to seek the shade. 
 Lothair and the Syrian rose at the same time. 
 
 ' I shall not easily forget our conversation on the Mount 
 of Olives,' said Lothair, ' and I would ask you to add to 
 this kindness by permitting me, before I leave Jerusalem, 
 to pay my respects to you under your roof.' 
 
 ' Peace be with you ! ' said the Syrian. ' I live without 
 the gate of Damascus, on a hill which you will easily 
 recognise, and my name is PARACLETE.' 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVIII. 
 
 TIME passed very agreeably to St. Aldegonde and Bertram 
 jit Jerusalem, for it was passed entirely at the Russian 
 Consulate, or with its interesting and charming inmates, 
 who were always making excursions, or, as they styled 
 them, pilgrimages. They saw little of Lothair, who would 
 willingly have conversed with his friend on many topics, 
 but his friend was almost always engaged, and if by some 
 chance they succeeded in finding themselves alone, Bertram 
 appeared to bo always preoccupied. One day ho said to
 
 414 LOTHAIK. 
 
 Lothair, ' I toll you what, old fellow, if you want to know 
 all about what has happened at home, I will give you 
 Corisande's letters. They are a sort of journal which she 
 promised to keep for me, and they will tell you everything. 
 I found an immense packet of them on our return from 
 Cairo, and I meant to have read them here ; but I do not 
 know how it is, I suppose ther is so much to be seen here, 
 but I never seem to have a moment to myself. I have got 
 an engagement now to the Consulate. We are going to 
 Elisha's fountain to-day. Why do not you come ? ' 
 
 ' Well, I am engaged too,' said Lothair. ' I have settled 
 to go to the Tombs of the Kings to-day, with Signer 
 Paraclete, and I cannot well get off; but remember the 
 letters.' 
 
 The box of letters arrived at Lothair's rooms in due 
 season, and their perusal deeply interested him. In their 
 pages, alike earnest and lively, and a picture of a mind of 
 high intelligence adorned with fancy and feeling, the name 
 of Lothair frequently appeared, and sometimes accompanied 
 with expressions that made his heart beat. All the rumours 
 of his adventures as they gradually arrived in England, 
 generally distorted, were duly chronicled, and sometimes 
 with comments, which intimated the interest they occa- 
 sioned to the correspondent of Bertram. More than once 
 she could not refrain from reproaching her brother for 
 having left his friend so much to himself. ' Of all your 
 friends,' she said, ' the one who always most interested me, 
 and seemed most worthy of your affection.' And then she 
 deplored the absolute ruin of Lothair, for such she deemed 
 his entrance into the Roman Church. 
 
 ' I was right in my appreciation of that woman, though 
 I was utterly inexperienced in life,' thought Lothair. ' If 
 her mother had only favoured my views two years ago, 
 affairs would have been diffeixmt Would they have been 
 better ? Can they be worse But I have gained expe-
 
 LOTHAIR. 415 
 
 rienco. Certainly ; and paid for it with my heart's blood. 
 And might I not have gained experience tranquilly, in the 
 discharge of the duties of my position at home, dear home ? 
 Perhaps not. And suppose I never had gained experience, 
 I still might have been happy ? And what am I now ? 
 Most lone and sad. So lone and sad, that nothing but the 
 magical influence of the scene around me saves me from an 
 overwhelming despondency.' 
 
 Lothair passed his life chiefly with Paraclete, and a few 
 weeks after their first acquaintance, they left Jerusalem 
 together for Galilee. 
 
 The month of May had disappeared and June was ad- 
 vancing. Bertram and St. Aldegonde no longer talked 
 about their pair, and their engagements in the House of 
 Commons. There seemed a tacit understanding between 
 them to avoid the subject ; remarkable on the part of 
 Bertram, for he had always been urgent on his brother-in- 
 law to fulfil their parliamentary obligation. 
 
 The party at the Russian Consulate had gone on a 
 grand expedition to the Dead Sea, and had been absent for 
 many days from Jerusalem. They were convoyed by one 
 of the sheiks of the Jordan valley. It was a most successful 
 expedition : constant adventure, novel objects and habits, 
 all the spell of a romantic life. The ladies were delighted 
 with the scenery of the Jordan valley, and the gentlemen 
 had good sport ; St. Aldegonde had killed a wild boar, and 
 Bertram an ibex, whose horns were preserved for Brentham. 
 Mr. Phoebus intensely studied the camel and its habits. 
 He persuaded himself that the ship of the desert entirely 
 understood him. ' But it is always so,' he added. ' There 
 is no animal that in a week does not perfectly comprehend 
 me. Had I time and could give myself up to it, I have no 
 doubt I could make them speak. Nature has endowed me, 
 so far as dumb animals are concerned, with a peculiar 
 mesmeric power.'
 
 416 LOTHAIE. 
 
 At last this happy caravan was again within sight of the 
 walls of Jerusalem. 
 
 ' I should like to have remained in the valley of the 
 Jordan for ever,' said St. Aldegonde. 
 
 'And so should I,' whispered Bertram to Euphrosyne, 
 ' with the same companions.' 
 
 When they had returned to the Consulate, they found 
 the post from England had arrived during their absence. 
 There were despatches for all. It is an agitating moment, 
 that arrival of letters in a distant land. Lord St. Alde- 
 gonde seemed much disturbed when he tore open and 
 perused his. His countenance became clouded ; he dashed 
 his hand through his dishevelled locks ; he pouted ; and 
 then he said to Bertram, ' Come to my room.' 
 
 ' Anything wrong at home ? ' 
 
 ' Not at home,' said St. Aldegonde. ' Bertha is all right. 
 But a most infernal letter from Glyn, most insolent. If I 
 do return I will vote against them. But I will not return. 
 I have made up my mind to that. People are so selfish,' 
 exclaimed St. Aldegonde with indignation. 'They never 
 think of anything but themselves.' 
 
 ' Show me his letter,' said Bertram. ' I have got a letter 
 too ; it is from the Duke.' 
 
 The letter of the Opposition whip did not deserve the 
 epithets ascribed to it by St. Aldegonde. It was urgent 
 and courteously peremptory ; but, considering the circum- 
 stances of the case, by no means too absolute. Paired to 
 Raster by great indulgence, St. Aldegonde was passing 
 Whitsuntide at Jerusalem. The parliamentary position 
 was critical, and the future of the Opposition seemed to 
 depend on the majority by which their resolutions on the 
 Irish Church were sent up to the House of Lords. 
 
 'Well,' said Bertram. ' I see nothing to complain of in 
 that letter. Except a little more urgency, it is almost the 
 same language as reached us at Cairo, and then you said 
 Glyn was a capital fellow, and seemed quite pleased/
 
 LOTHA.ni. 417 
 
 ' Yes, because 1 hated Egypt,' said St. Aldegonde. ' I 
 hated the Pyramids, and I was disappointed with the 
 dancing-girls ; and it seemed to me that, if it had not been 
 for the whip, we never should have been able to escape. 
 But things are very different now.' 
 
 ' Yes they are,' said Bertram in a melancholy tone. 
 
 ' You do not think of retaining ? ' said St. Aldegonde. 
 
 ' Instantly,' replied Bertram. ' I have a letter from the 
 Duke which is peremptory. The county is dissatisfied with 
 my absence. And mine is a queer constituency ; very 
 numerous and several large towns ; the popularity of my 
 family gained me the seat, not their absolute influence.' 
 
 ' My constituents never trouble me,' said St. Aldegonde. 
 
 ' You have none,' said Bertram. 
 
 ' Well, if I were member for a metropolitan district I 
 would not budge. And I little thought you would have 
 deserted me.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' sighed Bertram. ' You are discontented, because 
 your amusements are interrupted. But think of my posi- 
 tion, torn from a woman whom I adore.' 
 
 ' Well, you know you must have left her sooner or later,' 
 urged St. Aldegonde. 
 
 ' Why ? ' asked Bertram. 
 
 ' You know what Lothair told us. She is engaged to her 
 cousin the Prince of Samos, and ' 
 
 ' If I had only the Prince of Samos to deal with I should 
 care little,' said Bertram. 
 
 ' Why, what do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' That Euphrosyne is mine, if my family will sanction 
 our union, but not otherwise.' 
 
 St. Aldegonde gave a long whistle, and he added, ' I wish 
 Bertha were here. She is the only person I know who has 
 a head.' 
 
 'You see, my dear Granville, while you are talking of you* 
 little disappointments. I am involved in awful difficulties.' 
 
 E I
 
 418 LOTHAffi. 
 
 ' You are sure about the Prince of Samos ? ' 
 
 4 Clear your head of that. There is no engagement of 
 any kind between him. and Euphrosyne. The visit to the 
 island was only a preliminary ceremony, just to show him- 
 self. No doubt the father wishes the alliance ; nor is there 
 any reason to suppose that it would be disagreeable to the 
 son ; but, I repeat it, no engagement exists.' 
 
 ' If I were not your brother-in-law, I should have been 
 very glad to have married Euphrosyne myself,' said St. 
 A.ldegondc. 
 
 ' Yes, but what am I to do ? ' asked Bertram rather im- 
 patiently. 
 
 ' It will not do to write to Brentham,' said St. Alde- 
 gonde, gravely ; ' that I see clearly.' Then, after musing a 
 while, he added, ' I am vexed to leave our friends here and 
 shall miss them sadly. They are the most agreeable people 
 I ever knew. I never enjoyed myself so much. But we 
 must think of nothing but your affairs. We must return 
 instantly. The whip will be an excuse, but the real busi- 
 ness will be Euphrosyne. I should delight in having her 
 for a sister-in-law, but the affair will require management. 
 We can make short work of getting home : steam to Mar- 
 seilles, leave the yacht there, and take the railroad. I 
 have half a mind to telegraph to Bertha to meet us there. 
 She would be of great use.' 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIX. 
 
 LOTHAIR was delighted with Galilee, and particularly with 
 the blue waters of its lake slumbering beneath the surround- 
 ing hills. Of all its once pleasant towns, Tiberias alone 
 remains, and that in ruins from a recent earthquake. But 
 where are Chorazin, and Bethsaida, and Capernaum ? A 
 group of hovels and an ancient tower still bear the magic
 
 LOTHAIB. 419 
 
 name of Magdala, and all around are green mounts and 
 gentle slopes, the scenes of miracles that softened the heart 
 of man, and of sermons that never tire his ear. Dreams 
 passed over Lothair of settling for ever on the shores of 
 these waters and of reproducing all their vanished happi- 
 ness : rebuilding their memorable cities, reviving their 
 fisheries, cultivating the plain of Gennesaret and the coun- 
 try of the Gadarenes, and making researches in this cradle 
 of pure and primitive Christianity. 
 
 The heritage of Paraclete was among the oaks of Bashan, 
 a lofty land, rising suddenly from the Jordan valley, verdant 
 and well watered, and clothed in many parts with forest ; 
 there the host of Lothair resided among his lands and people, 
 and himself dwelt in a stone and castellated building, a 
 portion of which was of immemorial antiquity, and where 
 he could rally his forces and defend himself in case of the 
 irruption and invasion of the desert tribes. And here one 
 morn arrived a messenger from Jerusalem summoning 
 Lothair back to that city, in consequence of the intended 
 departure of his friends. 
 
 The call was urgent and was obeyed immediately with 
 that promptitude which the manners of the East, requiring 
 no preparation, admit. Paraclete accompanied his guest. 
 They had to cross the Jordan, and then to trace their way 
 till they reached the southern limit of the plain of Esdraelon, 
 from whence they counted on the following day to reach 
 Jerusalem. "While they were encamped on this spot, a 
 body of Turkish soldiery seized all their horses, which were 
 required, they said, by the Pacha of Damascus, who was 
 proceeding to Jerusalem attending a great Turkish general, 
 who was on a mission to examine the means of defence of 
 Palestine on the Egyptian side. This was very vexatious, 
 but one of those incidents of Eastern life against which it 
 is impossible to contend ; so Lothair and Paraclete were 
 obliged to take refuge in their pipes beneath a huge and
 
 420 LOTH AIR. 
 
 solitary sycamore tree, awaiting the arrival of the Ottoman 
 magnificoes. 
 
 They came at last, a considerable force of cavalry, then 
 mules and barbarous carriages with the harem, all the 
 riders and inmates enveloped in what appeared to be wind- 
 ing sheets, white and shapeless ; about them eunuchs and 
 servants. The staff of the Pachas followed, preceding the 
 grandees who closed the march, mounted on Anatolian 
 chargers. 
 
 Paraclete and Lothair had been obliged to leave the 
 grateful shade of the sycamore tree, as the spot had been 
 fixed on by the commander of the advanced guard for the 
 resting-place of the Pachas. They were standing aside and 
 watching the progress of the procession, and contemplating 
 the earliest opportunity of representing their grievances to 
 high authority, when the Turkish general, or the Seraskier, 
 as the Syrians inaccurately styled him, suddenly reined in 
 his steed, and said in a loud voice, ' Captain Muriel.' 
 
 Lothair recognised the well-known voice of his command- 
 ing officer in the Apennine, and advanced to him with a 
 military salute. ' I must first congratulate you on being 
 alive, which I hardly hoped,' said the General. ' Then let 
 me know why you are here.' 
 
 And Lothair told him. 
 
 ' Well, you shall have back your horses,' said the Genei'al 
 ' and I will escort you to El Khuds. In the meantime yoi 
 must be our guest ;' and he presented him to the Pacha o 
 Damascus with some form. ' You and I have bivouacked 
 in the open air before this, and not in so bland a clime.' 
 
 Beneath the shade of the patriarchal sycamore, the 
 General narrated to Lothair his adventures since they were 
 fellow- combatants on the fatal field of Mentana. 
 
 ' When all was over,' continued the General, ' I fled with 
 Garibaldi, and gained the Italian frontier at Terni. Here 
 we were of course arrested by the authorities ; but not very
 
 LOTHAIR. 
 
 421 
 
 maliciously. I escaped one morning, and got among the 
 mountains in the neighbourhood of our old camp. I had 
 to wander about these parts for some time, for the Papalini 
 were in the vicinity, and there was danger. It was a hard 
 time ; but I found a friend now and then among the coun- 
 try people, though they are dreadfully superstitious. At 
 last I got to the shore, and induced an honest fellow to put 
 to sea in an open boat on the chance of something turning 
 up. It did in the shape of a brigantiue from Elba bound 
 for Corfu. Here I was sure to find friends, for the 
 brotherhood are strong in the Ionian Isles. And I began 
 to look about for business. The Greeks made me some 
 offers, but their schemes were all vanity, worse than the 
 Irish. You remember our Fenian squabble? From some- 
 thing that transpired, I had made up my mind, so soon as 
 I was well equipped, to go to Turkey. I had had some 
 transactions with the house of Cantacuzene, through the 
 kindness of our dear friend whom we will never forget, but 
 will never mention ; and through them I became acquainted 
 with the Prince of Samos, who is the chief of their house. 
 He is in the entire confidence of Aali Pacha. I soon found 
 out that there was real business on the carpet. The Otto- 
 man army, after many trials and vicissitudes, is now in good 
 case ; and the Porte has resolved to stand no more nonsense 
 either in this direction.' and the General gave a significant 
 glance, ' or in any other. But they wanted a general ; they 
 wanted a man who knew his business. I am not a Garibaldi, 
 you know, and never pretended to be. I have no genius, or 
 volcanic fire, or that sort of thing ; but I do presume to say, 
 with fair troops, paid with tolerable regularity, a battery or 
 two of rifled cannon, and a well-organised commissariat, I 
 am not afraid of meeting any captain of my acquaintance, 
 whatever his land or language. The Turks are a brave 
 people, and there is nothing in their system, political or 
 religious, which jara with my convictions. In the army,
 
 422 LOTHAIK. 
 
 which is all that I much care for, there is the career of 
 merit, and I can promote any able man that I recognise. 
 As for their religion, they are tolerant and exact nothing 
 from me ; and if I had any religion except Madre Nafrura, 
 I am not sure I would not prefer Islamism ; which is at 
 least simple, and as little sacerdotal as any organised creed 
 can be. The Porte made me a liberal offer and I accepted 
 it. It so happened that, the moment I entered their service, 
 I was wanted. They had a difficulty on their Dalmatian 
 frontier; I settled it in a way they liked. And now I am 
 sent here with full powers, and am a pacha of the highest, 
 class, and with a prospect of some warm work. I do not 
 know what your views are, but, if you would like a little 
 more soldiering, I will put you on my staff; and, for aught 
 I know, we may find our winter-quarters at Grand Cairo, 
 they say a pleasant place for such a season.' 
 
 ' My soldiering has not been very fortunate,' said 
 Lothair ; ' and I am " not quite as great an admirer of 
 the Turks as you are, General. My mind is rather on the 
 pursuits of peace, and twenty hours ago I had a dream of 
 settling on the shores of the Sea of Galilee.' 
 
 'Whatever you do,' said the General, 'give up dreams.' 
 
 'I think you may be right in that,' said Lothair, with 
 half a sigh. 
 
 ' Action may not always be happiness,' said the General ; 
 ' but there is no happiness without action. If you will not 
 fight the Egyptians, were I you, I would return home and 
 plunge into affairs. That was a fine castle of yours I visited 
 one morning ; a man who lives in such a place must be 
 able to find a great deal to do.' 
 
 ' I almost wish I were there, with you for my com- 
 panion,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' The wheel may turn,' said the General ; ' but I begin 
 to think I shall not see much of Europe again. I have 
 given it some of my best years and best blood ; and if 1
 
 LOTHAIK. 423 
 
 had assisted in establishing the Roman republic, I should 
 not have lived in vain ; but the old imposture seems to me 
 stronger than ever. I have got ten good years in me yet ; 
 and, if I be well supported and in luck (for, after all, every- 
 thing depends on fortune), and manage to put a couple of 
 hundred thousand men in perfect discipline, I may find 
 some consolation for not blowing up St. Peter's, and may 
 do something for the freedom of mankind on the banks of 
 the Danube.' 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 MRS. PUTNEY GILES in full toilette was standing before the 
 mantelpiece of her drawing-room in Hyde Park Gardens, 
 and watching with some anxiety the clock that rested on 
 it. It was the dinner hour, and Mr. Putney Giles, par- 
 ticular in such matters, had not returned. No one looked 
 forward to his dinner and a chat with his wife with greater 
 zest than Mr. Putney Giles ; and he deserved the gratifica- 
 tion which both incidents afforded him, for he fairly earned 
 it. Full of news and bustle, brimful of importance and 
 prosperity, sunshiny and successful, his daily return home, 
 which, with many, perhaps most, men is a process lugu- 
 briously monotonous, was in Hyde Park Gardens, even to 
 Apollonia, who possessed many means of amusement and 
 occupation, a source ever of interest and excitement. 
 
 To-day too, particularly, for their great client, friend, 
 and patron, Lothair, had arrived last night from the Con- 
 tinent at Muriel House, and had directed Mr. Putney Giles 
 to be in attendance on him on the afternoon of this day. 
 
 Muriel House was a family mansion in the Green Park. 
 It was built of hewn stone during the last century; a 
 Palladian edifice, for a time much neglected, but now 
 restored and duly prepared for the reception of its lord
 
 424 LOTHAIE. 
 
 and master by the same combined energy and taste which 
 had proved so satisfactory and successful at Muriel Towers, 
 
 It was a long room, the front saloon at Hyde Park 
 Gardens, and the door was as remote as possible from the 
 mantelpiece. It opened suddenly, but only the panting 
 face of Mr. Putney Giles was seen, as he poured forth in 
 hurried words : ' My dear, dreadfully late, but I can dress 
 in five minutes. I only opened the door in passing, to tell 
 you that I have seen our great friend ; wonderful man ! 
 but I will tell you all at dinner, or after. It was not he 
 who kept me, but the Duke of Brecon. The Duke has been 
 with me two hours. I had a good mind to bring him home 
 to dinner, and give him a bottle of my '48. They like that 
 sort of thing ; but it will keep,' and the head vanished. 
 
 The Duke of Brecon would not have dined ill had he 
 honoured this household. It is a pleasant thing to see an 
 opulent and prosperous man of business, sanguine and full 
 of health, and a little overworked, at that royal meal, 
 dinner. How he enjoys his soup ! And how curious' in his 
 fish ! How critical in his entree, and how nice in his 
 Welsh mutton ! His exhausted brain rallies under the glass 
 of dry sherry, and he realises all his dreams with the aid 
 of claret that has the true flavour of the violet. 
 
 ' And now, my dear Apollonia,' said Mr. Putney Giles, 
 when the servants had retired, and he turned his chair and 
 played with a new nut from the Brazils, ' about our great 
 friend. Well, I was there at two o'clock, and found him 
 at breakfast. Indeed, he said, that had he not given me an 
 appointment, he thought he should not have risen at all, 
 so delighted he was to find himself again in an English 
 bed. Well, he told me everything that had happened. I 
 never knew a man so unreserved, and so different from 
 what he was when I first knew him, for he never much 
 cared then to talk about himself. But no egotism, nothing 
 of that sort of thing : all his mistakes, all his blunders, as
 
 LOTHATR. 425 
 
 he called them. He told me everything that I might 
 thoroughly understand his position, and that he might 
 judge whether the steps I had taken in reference to it were 
 adequate.' 
 
 ' I suppose about his religion,' said Apollonia. ' What is 
 he, after all?' 
 
 ' As sound as you are. But you are right ; that was the 
 point on which he was most anxious. He wrote, you know, 
 to me from Malta, when the account of his conversion first 
 appeared, to take all necessary steps to contradict the 
 announcement, and counteract its consequences. He gave 
 me carte blanche, and was anxious to know precisely 
 what I had done. I told him that a mere contradiction, 
 anonymous or from a third person, however unqualified its 
 language, would have no effect in the face of a detailed 
 narrative, like that in all the papers, of his walking in pro- 
 cession and holding a lighted taper and all that sort of 
 thing. What I did was this. I commenced building, by 
 his direction, two new churches on his estate, and an- 
 nounced in the local journals, copied in London, that he 
 would be present at the consecration of both. I subscribed 
 in his name, and largely, to all the diocesan societies, gave 
 a thousand pounds to the Bishop of London's fund, and 
 accepted for him the office of steward for this year for the 
 Sons of the Clergy. Then, when the public feeling was 
 ripe, relieved from all its anxieties, and beginning to get 
 indignant at the calumnies that had been so freely cir- 
 culated, the time for paragraphs had arrived, and one 
 appeared stating that a discovery had taken place of the 
 means by which an unfounded and preposterous account of 
 the conversion of a distinguished young English nobleman 
 at 'Rome had been invented and circulated, and would pro- 
 bably furnish the occasion for an action for libel. And now 
 his return and appearance at the Chapel Royal next 
 Sunday will clench the whole business.'
 
 426 LOTHAIB. 
 
 ' And lie was satisfied ? ' 
 
 ' Most satisfied ; a little anxious whether his personal 
 friends, and particularly the Brentham family, were as- 
 sured of the truth. He travelled home with the Duke's 
 son and Lord St. Aldegonde ; but they came from remote 
 parts, and their news from home was not very recent.' 
 
 ' And how does he look ? ' 
 
 ' Very well ; never saw him look better. He is handsomer 
 than he was. But he is changed. I could not conceive in 
 a year that anyone could be so changed. He was young 
 for his years ; he is now old for his years. He was, in fact, 
 a boy ; he is now a man ; and yet it is only a year. He 
 said it seemed to him ten.' 
 
 ' He has been through a fiery furnace,' said Apollonia. 
 
 ' Well, he has borne it well,' said Mr. Giles. ' It is 
 worth while serving such a client, so cordial, so frank, and 
 yet so full of thought. He says he does not in the least 
 regret all the 'money he has wasted. Had he remained at 
 home, it would have gone to building a cathedral.' 
 
 ' And a Popish one ! ' said Apollonia. ' I cannot agree 
 with him,' she continued, ' that his Italian campaign was a 
 waste of money. It will bear fruit. We shall still see 
 the end of the "abomination of desolation." ' 
 
 ' Very likely,' said Mr. Giles ; ' but I trust my client will 
 have no more to do with such questions either way.' 
 
 ' And did he ask after his friends ? ' said Apollonia. 
 
 ' Very much : he asked after you. I think he went 
 through all the guests at Muriel Towers except the poor 
 Campians. He spoke to me about the Colonel, to whom 
 it appears he has written ; but Theodora he never men- 
 tioned, except by some periphrasis, some allusion to a great 
 sorrow, or to some dear friend whom he had lost. He seems 
 a little embarrassed about the St. Jeromes, and said more 
 than once that he owed his life to Miss Arundel. He dwelt 
 a good deal upon this. He asked also a great deal about
 
 LOTHAIE. 427 
 
 the Brentham family. They seem the people whom he 
 most affects. When I told him of Lady Corisande's ap- 
 proaching union with the Duke of Brecon, I did not think 
 he half liked it.' 
 
 ' But is it settled ?' - 
 
 ' The same as. The Duke has been with me two hours 
 to-day about his arrangements. He has proposed to the 
 parents, who are delighted with the match, and has re- 
 ceived every encouragement from the young lady. He 
 looks upon it as certain.' 
 
 'I wish our kind friend had not gone abroad,' said Apol- 
 lonia. 
 
 ' Well, at any rate, he has come back,' said Mr. Giles ; 
 ' that is something. I am sure I more than once never 
 expected to see him again.' 
 
 ' He has every virtue and every charm,' said Apollonia, 
 ' and principles that are now proved. I shall never forget 
 bis kindness at the Towers. I wish he were settled for life. 
 But who is worthy of him ? I hope he will not fall into 
 the clutches of that Popish girl. I have sometimes, from 
 what I observed at Muriel and other reasons, a dread mis- 
 giving.' 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXI. 
 
 IT was the first night that Lothair had slept in his own 
 house, and, when he awoke in the morning, he was quite 
 bewildered, and thought for a moment ho was in the 
 Palazzo Agostini. He had not reposed in so spacious and 
 lofty a chamber since he was at Home. And this brought 
 all his recollection to his Roman life, and everything that 
 had happened there. ' And yet, after all,' he said, ' had it 
 not been for Clare Arundel, I should never have seen 
 Muriel House. I owe to her my life.' His relations with
 
 428 LOTHAIR. 
 
 the St. Jerome family \vere doubtless embarrassing, even 
 painful ; and yet his tender and susceptible nature could 
 not for a moment tolerate that he should passively submit 
 to an estrangement from those who had conferred on him 
 so much kindness, and whose ill-considered and injurious 
 courses, as he now esteemed them, were perhaps, and pro- 
 bably, influenced and inspired by exalted, even sacred 
 motives. 
 
 He wondered whether they were in London ; and if so, 
 what should he do ? Should he call, or should he write 1 
 He wished he could do something to show to Miss Arundel 
 how much he appreciated her kindness, and how grateful 
 lie was. She was a fine creature, and all her errors were 
 noble ones : enthusiasm, energy, devotion to a sublime 
 cause. Errors, but are these errors ? Are they not, on 
 the contrary, qualities which should command admiration 
 in any one ? and in a woman and a beautiful woman, more 
 than admiration 1 
 
 There is always something to worry you. It comes -as 
 regularly as sunrise. Here was Lothair under his own 
 roof again, after strange and trying vicissitudes, with his 
 health restored, his youth little diminished, with some 
 strange memories and many sweet . ones ; on the whole, 
 once more in great prosperity, and yet his mind harped 
 only on one vexing thought, and that was his painful and 
 perplexed relations with the St. Jerome family. 
 
 His thoughts were a little distracted from this harassing 
 theme by tbe novelty of his house and the pleasure it gave 
 him. He admired the double staircase and the somewhat 
 heavy yet richly carved ceilings ; and the look into the 
 park, shadowy and green, with a rich summer sun and the 
 palace in the distance. What an agreeable contrast to his 
 hard noisy sojourn in a bran-new, brobdignagian hotel, as 
 was his coarse fate when he was launched into London 
 life. This made him think of many comforts for which he
 
 LOTHAIE. 429 
 
 ought to be grateful ; and then he remembered Muriel 
 Towers, and how completely and capitally everything was 
 there prepared and appointed ; and while he was thinking 
 over all this and kindly of the chief author of these satis- 
 factory arrangements, and the instances in which that in- 
 dividual had shown, not merely professional dexterity and 
 devotion, but some of the higher qualities that make life 
 sweet and pleasant, Mr. Putney Giles was announced, and 
 Lothair sprang forward and gave him his hand with a 
 cordiality which repaid at once that perfect but large- 
 hearted lawyer for all his exertions, and some anxieties 
 that he had never expressed even to Apollonia. 
 
 Nothing in life is more remarkable than the unnecessary 
 anxiety which we endure, and generally occasion ourselves. 
 Between four and five o'clock, having concluded his long 
 conference with Mr. Putney Giles, Lothair, as if he were 
 traversing the principal street of a foreign town, or rather 
 treading on tip-toe like a prince in some enchanted castle, 
 ventured to walk down St. James's Street, and the very 
 first person he met was Lord St. Jerome ! 
 
 Nothing could be more unaffectedly hearty than his 
 greeting by that good man and thorough gentleman. ' I 
 saw by the " Post " you had arrived,' said Lord St. Jerome, 
 ' and we were all saying at breakfast how glad we should 
 be to see you again. And looking so well. Quite your- 
 self ! I never saw you looking better. You have been to 
 Egypt with Lord St. Aldegonde, I think? It was the 
 wisest thing yon could do. I said to Gertrude when you 
 went to Sicily, " If I were Lothair, I would go a good deal 
 farther than Sicily.' You wanted change of scene and air, 
 more than any man I know.' 
 
 ' And how are they all ? ' said Lothair ; ' my first visit 
 will be to them.' 
 
 ' And they will be delighted to see yon. Lady St. Jerome 
 is a little indisposed ; a cold caught at one of her bazaars.
 
 430 LOTHAIR. 
 
 She will hold them, and they say that no one ever sells BO 
 much. But still, as I often say, my dear Gertrude, would 
 it not be better if I were to give you a cheque for the institu- 
 tion ; it would be the same to them, and would save you a 
 great deal of trouble. But she fancies her presence in- 
 spires others, and perhaps there is something in it.' 
 
 ' I doubt not ; and Miss Arundel ? ' 
 
 * Clare is quite well, and I am hurrying home now to 
 ride with her. I shall tell her that you asked after her.' 
 
 ' And offer her my kindest remembrances.' 
 
 ' What a relief ! ' exclaimed Lothair when once more 
 alone. ' I thought I should have sunk into the earth when 
 he first addressed me, and now I would not have missed 
 this meeting for any consideration.' 
 
 He had not the courage to go into White's. He was 
 under a vague impression that the whole population of the 
 metropolis, and especially those who reside in the sacred land 
 bounded on the one side by Piccadilly and on the other by 
 Pall Mall, were unceasingly talking of his scrapes and mis- 
 adventures ; but he met Lord Carisbrooke and Mr. Brance- 
 peth. 
 
 ' Ah ! Lothair,' said Carisbrooke ; ' I do not think we 
 have seen you this season ; certainly not since Easter. 
 What have you been doing with yourself? ' 
 
 ' You have been in Egypt ? ' said Mr. Brancepeth. ' The 
 Duke was mentioning at White's to-day that you had re- 
 turned with his son and Lord St. Aldegonde.' 
 
 ' And does it pay ? ' enquired Carisbrooke. ' Egypt ? 
 What I have found generally in this sort of thing is, that 
 one hardly knows what to do with one's evenings.' 
 
 'There is something in that,' said Lothair, ' and perhaps 
 it applies to other countries besides Egypt. However, 
 though it is true I did return with St. Aldegondo and 
 Bertram, I have myself not been to Egypt.' 
 
 ' And where did you pick them up ? '
 
 LOTHATK. 431 
 
 ' At Jerusalem.' 
 
 ' Jerusalem ! What on earth could they go to Jeru- 
 salem for ? ' said Lord Carisbrooke. ' I am told there is 
 no sort of sport there. They say, in the Upper Nile, there 
 is good shooting.' 
 
 ' St. Aldegonde was disappointed. I suppose our country- 
 men have disturbed the crocodiles and frightened away 
 the pelicans ? ' 
 
 ' We were going to look in at White's ; come with us.' 
 
 Lothair was greeted with general kindness ; but nobody 
 seemed aware that he had been long and unusually absent 
 from them. Some had themselves not come up to town 
 till after Easter, and had therefore less cause to miss him. 
 The great majority, however, were so engrossed with 
 themselves that they never missed anybody. The Duke of 
 Brecon appealed to Lothair about something that had hap- 
 pened at the last Derby, and was under the impression, 
 until better informed, that Lothair had been one of hia 
 party. There were some exceptions to this general unac- 
 quaintance with events which an hour before Lothair had 
 feared fearfully engrossed society. Hugo Bohun was 
 doubly charmed to see him, ' because we were all in a 
 fright one day that they were going to make you a cardinal, 
 and it turned out that, at the very time they said you were 
 about to enter the conclave, you happened to be at the 
 second cataract. What lies these newspapers do tell ! ' 
 
 But the climax of relief was reached when the noble and 
 grey-headed patron of the arts in Great Britain approached 
 him with polished benignity, and said, ' I can give you 
 perhaps even later news than you can give me of our 
 friends at Jerusalem. I had a letter from Madame Phoebus 
 this morning, and she mentioned with great regret that 
 you had just left them. Your first travels, I believe ? ' 
 
 * My first.' 
 
 ' And wisely planned. You were right in starting out
 
 432 LOTHAIB 
 
 and seeing the distant parts. One may not always hnve 
 the energy which such an expedition requires. You can 
 keep Italy for a later and calmer day.' 
 
 Thus, one by one, all the cerulean demons of the morn 
 had vanished, and Lothair had nothing to worry him. He 
 felt a little dull as the dinner hour approached. Bertram 
 was to dine at home,. and then go to the House of Com- 
 mons ; St. Aldegonde concluding the day with the same 
 catastrophe, had in the most immoral manner, in the 
 interval, gone to the play to see ' School,' of which he had 
 read an account in ' Galignani ' when he was in quarantine. 
 Lothair was so displeased with this unfeeling conduct on 
 his part that he declined to accompany him : but Lady 
 St. Aldegonde, who dined at Crecy House, defended her 
 husband, and thought it very right and reasonable that 
 one so fond of the drama as he, who had been so long 
 deprived of gratifying his taste in that respect, should 
 take the first opportunity of enjoying this innocent amuse- 
 ment. A solitary dinner at Muriel House, in one of those 
 spacious and lofty chambers, rather appalled Lothair, and 
 he was getting low again, remembering nothing but his 
 sorrows, when Mr. Pinto came up to him and said, ' The 
 impromptu is always successful in life; you cannot be 
 engaged to dinner, for everybody believes you are at 
 Jericho. What say you to dining with me? Less than 
 the Muses and more than the Graces, certainly, if you 
 come. Lady Beatrice has invited herself, and she is to 
 pick up a lady, and I was to look out for a couple of 
 agreeable men. Hugo is coming, and you will complete 
 the charm.' 
 
 ' The spell then is complete,' said Lothair ; ' I suppose a 
 late eight,'
 
 LOTHAIK. 433 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIL 
 
 LOTHAIR was breakfasting alone on the morrow, when his 
 servant announced the arrival of Mr. Ruby, who had been 
 ordered to be in attendance. 
 
 ' Show him up,' said Lothair, ' and bring me the despatch- 
 box which is in my dressing-room.' 
 
 Mr. Ruby was deeply gratified to be again in the 
 presence of a nobleman so eminently distinguished, both 
 for his property and his taste, as Lothair. He was profuse 
 in his congratulations to his Lordship on his return to his 
 native land, while at the same time he was opening a bag, 
 from which he extracted a variety of beautiful objects, 
 none of them for sale, all executed commissions, which 
 were destined to adorn the fortunate and the fair. ' This 
 is lovely, my Lord, quite new, for the Queen of Madagascar ; 
 for the Empress this, Her Majesty's own design, at least 
 almost. Lady Melton's bridal necklace, and my Lord's 
 George, the last given by King James 31. ; broken up 
 during the Revolution, but re- set by us from an old draw- 
 ing with picked stones.' 
 
 ' Very pretty,' said Lothair ; ' but it is not exactly this 
 sort of thing that I want. See,' and he opened the 
 despatch-box, and took from out of it a crucifix. It was 
 made of some Eastern wood, inlaid with mother-of-pearl ; 
 the figure carved in brass, though not without power, and 
 at the end of each of the four terminations of the cross 
 was a small cavity enclosing something, and covered with 
 glass. 
 
 * See,' continued Lothair, ' this is the crucifix, given 
 with a carved shell to each pilgrim who visits the Holy 
 Sepulchre. Within these four cavities is earth from tho 
 
 P P
 
 43-1 LOTHAIE. 
 
 four holy places : Calvary, Sion, Bethlehem, and Gethse- 
 mane. Now what I want is a .crucifix, something of this 
 dimension, but 'made of the most costly materials; the 
 figure must be of pure gold ; I should like the cross to be 
 of choice emeralds, which I am told are now more precious 
 even than brilliants, and I wish the earth of the sacred 
 places to be removed from this crucifix, and introduced in 
 a similar manner into the one which you are to make ; and 
 each cavity must be covered with a slit diamond. Do you 
 understand ? ' 
 
 ' I follow you, my Lord,' said Mr. Ruby, with glistening 
 eyes. ' It will be a rare jewel. Is there to be a limit as 
 to the cost ? ' 
 
 'None but such as taste and propriety suggest,' said 
 Lothair. 'You will of course make a drawing and an 
 estimate, and send them to me ; but I desire despatch.' 
 
 When Mr. Ruby had retired, Lothair took from the 
 despatch-box a sealed packet, and looked at it for some 
 moments, and then pressed it to his lips. 
 
 In the afternoon, Lothair found himself again in the 
 saddle, and was riding about London, as if he had never 
 quitted it. He left his cards at Crecy House, and many 
 other houses, and he called at the St. Jeromes late, but 
 asked if they were at home. He had reckoned that they 
 would not be, and his reckoning was right. It was im- 
 possible to conceal from himself that it was a relief. Mr. 
 Putney Giles dined alone with Lothair this evening, and 
 they talked over many things ; among others the approach 
 ing marriage of Lady Corisande with the Duke of Brecon. 
 
 ' Everybody marries except myself,' said Lothair rather 
 peevishly. 
 
 ' But your Lordship is too young to think of that yet,' 
 aid Mr. Putney Giles. 
 
 1 1 feel very old,' said Lothair. 
 
 At this moment there arrived a note from Bertram,
 
 LOTHAIE. 435 
 
 Baying his mother was quite surprised and disappointed 
 that Lothair had not asked to see her in the morning. 
 She had expected him as a matter of course at luncheon, 
 and begged that he would come on the morrow. 
 
 ' I have had many pleasant luncheons in that house,' 
 said Lothair, 'but this will be the last. When all the 
 daughters are married nobody eats luncheon.' 
 
 'That would hardly apply to this family,' said Mr. 
 Putney Giles, who always affected to know everything, and 
 generally did. 'They are so united, that I fancy the 
 famous luncheons at Crecy House will always go on, and 
 be a popular mode of their all meeting.' 
 
 ' I half agree with St. Aldegonde,' said Lothair grum- 
 bling to himself, 'that if one is to meet that Duke of 
 Brecon every day at luncheon, for my part I had rather 
 stay away.' 
 
 In the course of the evening there also arrived invita- 
 tions to all the impending balls and assemblies for Lothair, 
 and there seemed little prospect of his again being forced 
 to dine with his faithful solicitor as a refuge from melan- 
 choly. 
 
 On the morrow he went in his brougham to Crecy 
 House, and he had such a palpitation of the heart when he 
 arrived, that for a moment he absolutely thought he must 
 retire. His mind was full of Jerusalem, the Mount of 
 Olives, and the Sea of Galilee. He was never nervous 
 there, never agitated, never harassed, no palpitations of tho 
 heart, no dread suspense. There was repose alike of body 
 and soul. Why did he ever leave Palestine and Paraclete ? 
 He should have remained in Syria for ever, cherishing in a 
 hallowed scone a hallowed sorrow, of which even the 
 bitterness was exalted and ennobling. 
 
 He stood for a moment in the great hall at Crecy House, 
 and the groom of the chambers in vain solicited his atten- 
 tion. It was astonishing how much passed through hia 
 vr 2
 
 436 LOTHAIfl. 
 
 mind while the great clock hardly described sixty seconds. 
 But in that space he had reviewed his life, arrived at the 
 conclusion that all was vanity and bitterness, that lie had 
 failed in everything, was misplaced, had no object and no 
 hope, and that a distant and unbroken solitude in some 
 scene where either the majesty of nature was overwhelming 
 or its moral associations were equally sublime, must be his 
 only refuge. In the meditation of the Cosmos, or in the 
 divine reverie of sacred lands, the burthen of existence 
 might be endured. 
 
 ' Her Grace is at luncheon, my Lord,' at length said the 
 groom of the chambers, and Lothair was ushered into the 
 gay and festive and cordial scene. The number of the self- 
 invited. guests alone saved him. His confusion was abso- 
 lute, and the Duchess remarked afterwards that Lothair 
 seemed to have regained all his shyness. 
 
 When Lothair had rallied and could survey the scene, he 
 found he was sitting by his hostess ; that the Duke, not a 
 luncheon man, was present, and, as it turned out afterwards, 
 for the pleasure of meeting Lothair. Bertram also was 
 present, and several married daughters, and Lord Mont- 
 airy, and Captain Mildmay, and one or two others ; and next 
 to Lady Corisande was the Duke of Brecon. 
 
 So far as Lothair was concerned, the luncheon was unsuc- 
 cessful. His conversational powers deserted him. He an- 
 swered in monosyllables, and never originated a remark. 
 He was greatly relieved when they rose and returned to the 
 gallery in which they seemed all disposed to linger. The 
 Duke approached him, and in his mood he found it easier to 
 talk to men than to women. Male conversation is of a 
 coarser grain, and does not require so much play of thought 
 and manner : discourse about Suez Canal, and Arab horses, 
 and pipes and pachas, can be carried on without any psycho- 
 logical effort, and by degrees banishes all sensibility. And 
 yet he was rather dreamy, talked better than he listened,
 
 LOTH AIR. 437 
 
 did not look his companion in the face as the Duke spoke, 
 which was his custom, and his eye was wandering. Sud- 
 denly, Bertram having joined them and speaking to his 
 father, Lothair darted away and approached Lady Corisande, 
 whom Lady Montairy had just quitted. 
 
 ' As I may never have the opportunity again,' said Lo- 
 thair, 'let me thank you, Lady Corisande, for some kind 
 thoughts which you deigned to bestow on me in my ab- 
 sence.' 
 
 His look was serious ; his tone almost sad. Neither was 
 in keeping with the scene and the apparent occasion ; and 
 Lady Corisande, not displeased, but troubled, murmured, 
 ' Since I last met you, I heard you had seen much and suf- 
 fered much.' 
 
 ' And that makes the kind thoughts of friends more 
 precious,' said Lothair. ' I have few : your brother is the 
 chief, but even he never did me any kindness so great 
 as when he told me that you had spoken of me with 
 sympathy.' 
 
 ' Bertram's friends are mine,' said Lady Corisande, ' but, 
 otherwise, it would be impossible for us all not to feel an 
 
 interest in , one of whom we had seen so much,' she 
 
 added with some hesitation. 
 
 ' Ah ! Brentham ! ' said Lothair, ' dear Brentham ! Do 
 you remember once saying to me that you hoped you should 
 never leave Brentham ? ' 
 
 ' Did I say so ? ' said Lady Corisande. 
 
 ' I wish I had never left Brentham,' said Lothair ; ' it 
 was the happiest time of my life. I had not then a sorrow 
 or a care.' 
 
 ' But everybody has sorrows and cares,' said Lady Cori- 
 sande ; ' you have, however, a great many things which 
 ought to make you happy.' 
 
 ' I do not deserve to be happy,' said Lothair, ' for I 
 have made so many mistakes. My only consolation is
 
 438 LOTHAIK. 
 
 that one great error which you most deprecated I have 
 escaped.' 
 
 ' Take a brighter and a nobler view of yonr life,' said 
 Lady Corisande ; ' feel rather you have been tried and 
 not found wanting.' 
 
 At this moment the Duchess approached them and inter- 
 rupted their conversation ; and soon after this Lothair left 
 Crecy House, still moody but less despondent. 
 
 There was a ball at Lady Clanmorne's in the evening, 
 and Lothair was present He was astonished at the number 
 of new faces he saw, the new phrases he heard, the new 
 fashions alike in dress and manner. He could not believe 
 it was the same world that he had quitted only a year ago. 
 He was glad to take refuge with Hugo Bohun as with an 
 old friend, and could not refrain from expressing to 
 that eminent person his surprise at the novelty of all 
 around him. 
 
 ' It is you, my dear Lothair,' replied Hugo, ' that is sur- 
 prising, not the world ; that has only developed in your ab- 
 sence. What could have induced a man like you to be away 
 for a whole season from the scene ! Our forefathers might 
 afford to travel ; the world was then stereotyped. It will 
 not do to be out of sight now. It is very well for St. Alde- 
 gonde to do these things, for the great object of St. Alde- 
 gonde is not to be in society, and he has never succeeded in 
 his object. But here is the new beauty.' 
 
 There was a stir and a sensation. Men made way and 
 even women retreated; and, leaning on the arm of Lord 
 Carisbrooke, in an exquisite costume that happily displayed 
 her splendid figure, and radiant with many charms, swept 
 by a lady of commanding mien and stature, self-possessed 
 and even grave, when suddenly turning her head, her pretty 
 face broke into enchanting dimples as she exclaimed, ' ! 
 cousin Lothair ! ' 
 
 Yes, the beautiful giantesses of Muriel Towers had be-
 
 LOTHATB. 439 
 
 cone the beauties of the season. Their success had 
 been as sudden and immediate as it was complete and 
 sustained. 
 
 ' Well, this is stranger than all ! ' said Lothair to Hugo 
 Bohun when Lady Flora had passed on. 
 
 ' The only persons talked of,' said Hugo. ' I am proud 
 of my previous acquaintance with them. I think Caris- 
 brooke has serious thoughts ; but there are some who prefer 
 Lady Grizell.' 
 
 'Lady Corisande was your idol last season,' said Lo- 
 thair. 
 
 ' Oh ! she is out of the running,' said Hugo ; ' she is 
 finished. But I have not heard yet of any day being fixed. 
 I wonder when he marries whether Brecon will keep on 
 liis theatre.' 
 
 ' His theatre ! ' 
 
 ' Yes ; the high mode now for a real swell is to have a 
 theatre. Brecon has the Frolic; Kate Simmons is his 
 manager, who calls herself Athalie de Montfort. You 
 ought to have a theatre, Lothair ; and if there is not one to 
 hire, you should build one. It would show that you were 
 alive again and had the spirit of an English noble, and atone 
 for some of your eccentricities.' 
 
 ' But I have no Kate Simmons who calls herself Athalie 
 de Montfort,' said Lothair ; ' I am not so favoured, Hugo. 
 However, I might succeed Brecon, as I hardly suppose he 
 will maintain such an establishment when he is married.' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon,' rejoined Hugo. ' It is the thing. 
 Several of our greatest swells have theatres and are mar- 
 ried. In fact, a first-rate man should have everything, and 
 therefore he ought to have both a theatre and a wife.' 
 
 ' Well, I do not think your manners have improved since 
 last year, or your morals,' said Lothair. 'I have half a 
 mind to go down to Muriel, and shut myself up there.' 
 
 He walked away and sauntered into the ball-room. The
 
 440 LOTHAIK, 
 
 first forms lie recognised were Lady Corisande waltzing 
 with, the Duke of Brecon, who was renowned for this 
 accomplishment. The heart of Lothair felt bitter. He 
 remembered his stroll to the dairy with the Duchess at 
 Brentham, and their conversation. Had his views then 
 been acceded to how different would have been his lot ! 
 And it was not his fault that they had been rejected. And 
 yet, had they been accomplished, would they have been 
 happy ? The character of Corisande, according to her 
 mother, was not then formed, nor easily scrutable. Was it 
 formed now ? and what were its bent and genius ? And 
 his own character ? It could not be denied that his mind 
 was somewhat crude then, and his general conclusions on 
 life and duty hardly sufficiently matured and developed to 
 offer a basis for domestic happiness on which one might 
 confidently depend. 
 
 And Theodora ? Had he married then he should never 
 \iave known Theodora. In this bright saloon, amid the 
 gaiety of festive music, and surrounded by gliding forms 
 of elegance and brilliancy, his heart was full of anguish 
 when he thought of Theodora. To have known such 
 a woman and to have lost her ! Why should a man 
 live after this ? Tes ; he would retire to Muriel, once 
 hallowed by her presence, and he would raise to her 
 memory some monumental fane, beyond the dreams even 
 of Artemisia, and which should commemorate alike her 
 wondrous life and wondrous mind. 
 
 A beautiful hand was extended to him, and a fair face, 
 animated with intelligence, welcomed him without a word. 
 It was Lady St. Jerome. Lothair bowed lowly and touched 
 her hand with his lip. 
 
 'I was sorry to have missed you yesterday. We had 
 gone down to Yauxe for the day, but I heard of you from 
 my Lord with great pleasure. We are all of us so happy 
 that you have entirely recovered your health.' 

 
 LOTHAIR 441 
 
 ' I owe that to you, dearest lady,' said Lothair, ' and to 
 ohose under your roof. I can never forget your goodness 
 to me. Had it not been for you, I should not have been 
 here or anywhere else.' 
 
 ' No, no ; we did our best for the moment. But I quite 
 agree with my Lord, now, that you stayed too long at 
 Rome under the circumstances. It was a good move, that 
 going to Sicily, and so wise of you to travel in Egypt. 
 Men should travel.' 
 
 ' I have not been to Egypt,' said Lothair ; ' I have been 
 to the Holy Land, and am a pilgrim. I wish you would 
 tell Miss Arundel that I shall ask her permission to present 
 her with my crucifix, which contains the earth of the Holy 
 Places. 1 should have told her this myself, if I had seen 
 her yesterday. Is she here ? ' 
 
 ' She is at Vauxe ; she could not tear herself away from 
 the roses.' 
 
 'But she might have brought them with her as com- 
 panions,' said Lothair, ' as you have, I apprehend, yourself.' 
 
 1 1 will give you this in Clare's name,' said Lady St. 
 Jerome, as she selected a beautiful flower and presented it 
 to Lothair. ' It is in return for your crucifix, which I am 
 sure she will highly esteem. I only wish it were a rose of 
 Jericho.' 
 
 Lothair started. The name brought up strange and 
 disturbing associations : the procession in the Jesuits' 
 Church, the lighted tapers, the consecrated children, one 
 of whom had been supernaturally presented with the 
 flower in question. There was an awkward silence, until 
 Lothair, almost without intending it, expressed a hope 
 that the Cardinal was well. 
 
 ' Immersed in affairs, but I hope well,' replied Lady St. 
 Jerome. ' You know what has happened ? But you will 
 see him. He will speak to you of these matters himself.' 
 
 ' But I should like also to hea from you/
 
 442 LOTHAIR 
 
 ' Well, they are scarcely yet to be spoken of,' said Lady 
 St. Jerome. ' I ought not perhaps even to have alluded to 
 the subject; but I know how deeply devoted you are to 
 religion. We are on the eve of the greatest event of this 
 century. When I wake in the morning, I always fancy 
 that I have heard of it only in dreams. And many, all this 
 room, will not believe in the possibility of its happening. 
 They smile when the contingency is alluded to, and if I 
 were not present they would mock. But it will happen, I 
 am assured it will happen,' exclaimed Lady St. Jerome, 
 speaking with earnestness, though in a hushed voice. ' And 
 no human imagination can calculate or conceive what may 
 be its effect on the destiny of the human race.' 
 
 ' You excite my utmost curiosity,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Hush ! there are listeners. But we shall soon meet 
 again. Tou will come and see us, and soon. Come down 
 to Vauxe on Saturday ; the Cardinal will be there. And 
 the place is so lovely now. I always say Vauxe at Whit- 
 suntide, or a little later, is a scene for Shakespeare. Tou 
 know you always liked Vauxe.' 
 
 ' More than liked it,' said Lothair ; ' I have passed at 
 Vauxe some of the happiest hours of my life.' 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 ON the morning of the very Saturday on which Lothair was 
 to pay his visit to Vauxe, riding in the park, he was joined 
 by that polished and venerable nobleman who presides over 
 the destinies of art in Great Britain. This distinguished 
 person had taken rather a fancy to Lothair, and liked to 
 talk to him about the Phoebus family; about the great 
 artist himself, and all his theories and styles ; but especially
 
 LOTHAIB. 443 
 
 about the fascinating Madame Phoebus and the captivating 
 Euphrosyne. 
 
 4 You have not found time, I dare say,' said the nobleman, 
 4 to visit the exhibition of the Royal Academy ? ' 
 
 ' Well, I have only been here a week,' said Lothair, ' and 
 have had so many things to think of, and so many persons 
 to see.' 
 
 4 Naturally,' said the nobleman ; ' but I recommend you 
 to go. I am now about to make my fifth visit there ; but 
 it is only to a single picture, and I envy its owner.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' said Lothair. ' Pray tell me its subject, that 
 I may not fail to see it.' 
 
 ' It is a portrait,' said the nobleman ; ' only a portrait, 
 some would say, as if the finest pictures in the world were 
 not only portraits. The masterpieces of the English school 
 are portraits, and some day when you have leisure and in- 
 clination, and visit Italy, you will see portraits by Titian and 
 Raflaelle and others, which are the masterpieces of art. 
 Well, the picture in question is a portrait by a young En- 
 glish painter at Rome and of an English lady. I doubt not 
 the subject was equal to the genius of the artist, but I do 
 not finale that the modern pencil has produced anything 
 equal to it, both in design and colour and expression. You 
 should see it by all means, and I have that opinion of your 
 taste that I do not think you will be content by seeing it 
 once. The real taste for fine art in this country is proved 
 by the crowd that always surrounds that picture ; and yet 
 only a portrait of an English lady, a Miss Arundel.' 
 
 4 A Miss Arundel ? ' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Yes, of a Roman Catholic family ; I believe a relative of 
 the St. Jeromes. They were at Rome last year, when tliis 
 portrait was executed.' 
 
 4 If yon will permit me,' said Lothair, * I should like to 
 accompany you to the Academy. I am going out of town 
 this afternoon, but not far, and could manage it.'
 
 444 LOTHAIR. 
 
 So they went together. It was the last exhibition of the 
 Academy in Trafalgar Square. The portrait in question 
 was in the large room, and hung on the eye line ; so, as the 
 throng about it was great, it was not easy immediately to 
 inspect it. But one or two R.A.s who were gliding about, 
 and who looked upon the noble patron of art as a sort of 
 divinity, insensibly controlled the crowd, and secured for 
 their friend and his companion the opportunity which they 
 desired. 
 
 'It is the finest thing since the portrait of the Cenci,' 
 said the noble patron. 
 
 The painter had represented Miss Arundel in her robe of 
 a sister of mercy, but with uncovered head. A wallet was 
 at her side, and she held a crucifix. Her beautiful eyes, 
 full of mystic devotion, met those of the spectator with a 
 fascinating power that kept many spell-bound. In the 
 background of the picture was a masterly glimpse of the 
 papal gardens and the wondrous dome. 
 
 .'That must be a great woman,' said the noble patron 
 of art. 
 
 Lothair nodded assent in silence. 
 
 The crowd about the picture seemed breathless and awe- 
 struck. There were many women, and in some eyes there 
 were tears. 
 
 ' I shall go home,' said one of the spectators ; ' I do not 
 wish to see anything else.' 
 
 ' That is religion,' murmured her companion. ' They may 
 say what they like, but it would be well for us if we were 
 all like her.' 
 
 It was a short half hour by the railroad to Vauxe, and 
 the station was close to the park gates. The sun was in its 
 last hour when Lothair arrived, but he was captivated by 
 the beauty of the scene, which he had never witnessed in 
 its summer splendour. The rich foliage of the great 
 avenues, the immense oaks that stood alone, the deer
 
 LOTHAIK. 445 
 
 glancing in the golden light, and the quaint and stately 
 edifice itself, so finished and so fair, with its freestone pin- 
 nacles and its gilded vanes glistening and sparkling in the 
 warm and lucid sky, contrasted with the chilly hours when 
 the Cardinal and himself had first strolled together in that 
 park, and when they tried to flatter themselves that the 
 morning mist clinging to the skeleton trees was perhaps 
 the burst of spring. 
 
 Lothair found himself again in his old rooms, and as his 
 valet unpacked his toilette, he fell into one of his reveries. 
 
 ' What,' he thought to himself, ' if life after all be only a 
 dream. I can scarcely realise what is going on. It seems 
 to me I have passed through a year of visions. That I 
 should be at Vauxe again ! A roof I once thought rife 
 with my destiny. And perhaps it may prove so. And 
 were it not for the memory of one event, I should be a ship 
 without a rudder.' 
 
 There were several guests in the house, and when Lo- 
 thair entered the drawing-room, he was glad to find that it 
 was rather full. The Cardinal was by the side of Lady 
 St. Jerome when Lothair entered, and immediately after 
 saluting his hostess it was his duty to address his late 
 guardian. Lothair had looked forward to this meeting with 
 apprehension. It seemed impossible that it should not to a 
 certain degree be annoying. Nothing of the kind. It was 
 impossible to greet him more cordially, more affectionately 
 than did Cardinal Grandison. 
 
 'You have seen a great deal since we parted,' said the 
 Cardinal. ' Nothing could be wiser than your travelling. 
 You remember that at Muriel I recommended you to go to 
 Egypt, but I thought it better that you should see Rome 
 first. And it answered : you made the acquaintance of its 
 eminent men, men whose names will be soon in everybody's 
 month, for before another year elapses Rome will be the 
 cynosure of the world. Then, when the great questions
 
 446 LOTHAIB. 
 
 come on which will decide the fate of the human race for 
 centuries, you will feel the inestimable advantage of being 
 master of the situation, and that you are familiar with 
 every place and every individual. I think you were not very 
 well at Borne ; but next time you must choose your season. 
 However, I may congratulate you on your present looks. 
 The air of the Levant seems to have agreed with you.' 
 
 Dinner was announced almost at this moment, and Lo- 
 thair, who had to take out Lady Clanmorne, had no oppor- 
 tunity before dinner of addressing anyone else except his 
 hostess and the Cardinal. The dinner party was large, and 
 it took some time to reconnoitre all the guests. Lothair 
 observed Miss Arundel, who was distant from him and on 
 the same side of the table, but neither Monsignore Catesby 
 nor Father Coleman was present. 
 
 Lady Clanmorne chatted agreeably. She was content to 
 talk, and did not insist on conversational reciprocity. She 
 was a pure freetrader in gossip. This rather suited Lothair. 
 It pleased Lady Clanmorne to-day to dilate upon marriage 
 and the married state, but especially on all her acquaint- 
 ances, male and female, who were meditating the surrender 
 of their liberty and about to secure the happiness of their 
 lives. 
 
 ' I suppose the wedding of the season, the wedding of 
 weddings, will be the Duke of Brecon's,' she said. ' But 
 I do not hear of any day being fixed.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Lothair, ' I have been abroad and am very 
 deficient in these matters. But I was travelling with the 
 lady's brother, and he has never yet told me that his sister 
 was going to be married.' 
 
 ' There is no doubt about that,' said Lady Clanmorne. 
 ' The Duchess said to a friend of mine the other day, who 
 congratulated her, " that there was no person in whom she 
 Bhould Lave more confidence as a son-in-law than the 
 Duke." '
 
 LOTHAIR. 447 
 
 ' Most marriages turn out unhappy,' said Lothair, rather 
 morosely. 
 
 ' Oh ! my dear Lord, what can you mean ? ' 
 
 ' Well I think so,' he said doggedly. ' Among the lower 
 orders, if we may judge from the newspapers, they are 
 always killing their wives, and in our class we get rid 
 of them in a more polished way, or they get rid of us.' 
 
 ' You quite astonish me with such sentiments,' said Lady 
 Clanmorne. ' What would Lady St. Jerome think if she 
 heard you, who told me the other day that she believed you 
 to be a faultless character? And the Duchess too, your 
 friend's mamma, who thinks you so good, and that it is so 
 fortunate for her son to have such a companion ? ' 
 
 ' As for Lady St. Jerome, she believes in everything,' 
 said Lothair ; ' and it is no compliment that she believes in 
 me. As for my friend's mamma, her ideal character, ac- 
 cording to you, is the Duke of Brecon, and I cannot pre- 
 tend to compete with him. He may please the Duchess, 
 but I cannot say the Duke of Brecon is a sort of man I 
 admire. 1 
 
 ' Well, he is no great favourite of mine,' said Lady Clan- 
 morne ; ' I think him overbearing and selfish, and I should 
 not like at all to be his wife.' 
 
 ' What do you think of Lady Corisande ? ' said Lothair. 
 
 * I admire her more than any girl in society, and I think 
 she will be thrown away on the Duke of Brecon. She is 
 clever and she has strong character, and, I am told, is ca- 
 pable of great affections. Her manners are good, finished 
 and natural ; and she is beloved by her young friends, 
 which I always think a test.' 
 
 ' Do you think her handsome ? ' 
 
 ' There can be no question about that : she is beautiful, 
 and her beauty is of a high class. I admire her much more 
 than all her sisters. She has a grander mien.' 
 
 * Have you seen Miss Arundel's picture at the Academy? '
 
 443 LOTHAIR. 
 
 ' Everybody has seen that : it has made a fury.' 
 
 ' I heard an eminent judge say to-day, that it was the 
 portrait of one who must be a great woman.' 
 
 ' Well, Miss Arundel is a remarkable person.' 
 
 ' Do you admire her ? ' 
 
 ' I have heard first-rate critics say that there was no per- 
 son to be compared to Miss Arundel. And unquestionably 
 it is a most striking countenance : that profound brow and 
 those large deep eyes ; and then her figure is so fine. But, 
 to tell you the truth, Miss Arundel is a person I never 
 could make out.' 
 
 ' I wonder she does not marry,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' She is very difficult,' said Lady Clanmorne. ' Perhaps, 
 too, she is of your opinion about marriage.' 
 
 ' I have a good mind to ask her after dinner whether she 
 is,' said Lothair. ' I fancy she would not marry a Pro- 
 testant ? ' 
 
 ' I am no judge of such matters,' said Lady Clanmorne ; 
 'only I cannot help thinking that there would be more 
 chance of a happy marriage when both were of the same 
 religion.' 
 
 ' I wish we were all of the same religion. Do not you ? ' 
 
 'Well, that depends a little on what the religion might 
 be.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' sighed Lothair, ' what between religion and mar- 
 riage and some other things, it appears to me one never 
 has a tranquil moment. I wonder what religious school 
 the Duke of Brecon belongs to ? Very high and dry, I 
 should think.' 
 
 The moment the gentlemen returned to the drawing- 
 room Lothair singled out Miss Arundel, and attached him- 
 self to her. 
 
 ' I have been to see your portrait to-day,' he said. She 
 changed colour. 
 
 ' I think it,' he continued, ' the triumph of modern art,
 
 LOTHAIR. 449 
 
 and I could not easily fix on any production of the old mas- 
 ters that excels it.' 
 
 'It was painted at Rome,' she said in a low voice. 
 
 ' So I understood. I regret that when I was at Rome I 
 saw so little of its art. But my health you know was 
 wretched. Indeed, if it had not been for some friends, I 
 might say for one friend, I should not have been here or in 
 this world. I can never express to that person my grati- 
 tude, and it increases every day. All that I have dreamed 
 of angels was then realised.' 
 
 ' You think too kindly of us.' 
 
 ' Did Lady St. Jerome give you my message about the 
 earth from the holy places which I had placed in a crucifix, 
 and which I hope you will accept from me, in remembrance 
 of the past and your Christian kindness to me ? I should 
 have left it at St. James's Square before this, but it re 
 quired some little arrangement after its travels.' 
 
 ' I shall prize it most dearly, both on account of its con- 
 secrated character and for the donor's sake, whom I have 
 ever wished to see the champion of our Master.' 
 
 ' Tou never had a wish, I am sure,' said Lothair, ' that 
 was not sublime and pure.' 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIV. 
 
 THEY breakfasted at Vauxe, in the long gallery. It was 
 always a merry meal, and it was the fashion of the house 
 that all should be present. The Cardinal was seldom ab- 
 sent. He used to say, ' I feel more on equal terms with my 
 friends at breakfast, and rather look forward to my banquet 
 of dry toast.' Lord St. Jerome was quite proud of receiv- 
 ing his letters and newspapers at Vauxe earlier by far than 
 he did at St. James's Square; and as all were supplied 
 s o
 
 450 LOTHAIR. 
 
 with their letters and journals, there was a great demand 
 for news, and a proportional circulation of it. Lady Clan- 
 morne indulged this passion for gossip amusingly one 
 morning, and read a letter from her correspondent, written 
 with the grace of a Sevigne, but which contained details of 
 marriages, elopements, and a murder among their intimate 
 acquaintance, which made all the real intelligence quite 
 insipid, and was credited for at least half an hour. 
 
 The gallery at Vauxe was of great length, and the break- 
 fast-table was laid at one end of it. The gallery was of 
 panelled oak, with windows of stained glass in the upper 
 panes, and the ceiling, richly and heavily carved, was en- 
 tirely gilt, but with deadened gold. Though stately, the 
 general effect was not free from a certain character of 
 gloom. Lit, as it was, by sconces, this was at night much 
 Boftened ; but on a rich summer morn, the gravity and re- 
 pose of this noble chamber were grateful to the senses. 
 
 The breakfast was over ; the ladies had retired, stealing 
 off with the ' Morning Post,' the gentlemen gradually dis- 
 appearing for the solace of their cigars. The Cardinal, who 
 was conversing with Lothair, continued their conversation 
 while walking up and down the gallery, far from the hear- 
 ing of the servants, who were disembarrassing the break- 
 fast-table, and preparing it for luncheon. A visit to a 
 country house, as Pinto says, is a series of meals mitigated 
 by the new dresses of the ladies. 
 
 ' The more I reflect on your travels,' said the Cardinal, 
 ' the more I am satisfied with what has happened. I re- 
 cognise the hand of Providence in your preliminary visit to 
 Rome and your subsequent one to Jerusalem. In the vast 
 events which are impending, that man is in a strong posi- 
 tion who has made a pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre. 
 You remember our walk in the park here,' continued the 
 Cardinal ; ' I felt then that we were on the eve of some 
 mighty change, but it was then indefinite, though to me
 
 LOTHAIR. 431 
 
 inevitable. You were destined, I was persuaded, to witness 
 it, even, as I hoped, to take no inconsiderable share in its 
 fulfilment. But I hardly believed that I should have been 
 spared for this transcendent day, and when it is consum- 
 mated, I will gratefully exclaim, " Nunc me dimittis ! ' 
 
 ' You allude, sir, to some important matter which Lady 
 St. Jerome a few days ago intimated to me, but it was only 
 an intimation, and purposely very vague.' 
 
 ' There is no doubt,' said the Cardinal, speaking with 
 solemnity, ' of what I now communicate to you. The Holy 
 Father, Pius IX., has resolved to summon an (Ecumenical 
 Council.' 
 
 ' An (Ecumenical Council ! ' said Lothair. 
 
 'It is a weak phrase,' resumed the Cardinal, 'to say it 
 will be the greatest event of this century. I believe it will 
 be the greatest event since the Episcopate of St. Peter ; 
 greater, in its consequences to the human race, than the 
 fall of the Roman Empire, the pseudo-Reformation, or the 
 Revolution of France. It is much more than three hun- 
 dred years since the last (Ecumenical Council, the Council 
 of Trent, and the world still vibrates with its decisions. 
 But the Council of Trent, compared with the impending 
 Council of the Vatican, will be as the mediaeval world of 
 Europe compared with the vast and complete globe which 
 man has since discovered and mastered.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Why the very assembly of the Fathers of the Church 
 will astound the Freemasons, and the Secret Societies, and 
 the Atheists. That alone will be a demonstration of power 
 on the part of the Holy Father which no conqueror from 
 Sesostris to Napoleon has ever equalled. It was only the 
 bishops of Europe that assembled at Trent, and, inspired 
 by the Holy Spirit, their decisions have governed man for 
 more than three hundred years. But now the bishops of 
 the whole world will assemble round the chair of St. Petor, 
 
 002
 
 452 LOTHAIR. 
 
 and prove by their presence the catholic character of tho 
 Church. Asia will send its patriarchs and pontiffs, and 
 America and Australia its prelates ; and at home, my dear 
 young friend, the Council of the Vatican will offer a strik- 
 ing contrast to the Council of Trent ; Great Britain will be 
 powerfully represented. The bishops of Ireland might 
 have been counted on, but it is England also that will send 
 her prelates now, and some of them will take no ordinary 
 share in transactions that will give a new form and colour 
 to human existence.' 
 
 ' Is it true, sir, that the object of the Council is to de- 
 clare the infallibility of the Pope ? ' 
 
 ' In matters of faith and morals,' said the Cardinal 
 quickly. ' There is no other infallibility. That is a secret 
 with God. All that we can knov of the decision of the 
 Council on this awful head is that its decision, inspired 
 by the Holy Spirit, must infallibly be right. We must 
 await that decision, and, when made known, we must 
 embrace it, not only with obedience, but with the in- 
 terior assent of mind and will. But there are other 
 results of the Council on which we may speculate ; and 
 which, I believe, it will certainly accomplish : first, it will 
 show in a manner that cannot be mistaken that there is 
 only one alternative for the human intellect : Rationalism 
 or Faith ; and, secondly, it will exhibit to the Christian 
 powers the inevitable future they are now preparing for 
 themselves.' 
 
 ' I am among the faithful,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' Then you must be a member of the Church Catholic,' 
 said the Cardinal. ' The basis on which God has willed 
 that His revelation should rest in the world is the testi- 
 mony of the Catholic Church, which, if considered only as 
 a human and historical witness, affords the highest and 
 most certain evidence for the fact and the contents of tho 
 Christian religion. If this bo denied, there is no suoh
 
 LOTHATR. 453 
 
 tiling ab history. But the Catholic Church is not only a 
 human and historical witness of its own origin, constitu- 
 tion, and authority, it is also a supernatural and divine 
 witness, which can neither fail nor err. When it cecume- 
 nically speaks, it is not merely the voice of the Fathers of 
 the world ; it declares what " it hath seemed good to the 
 Holy Ghost and to us." ' 
 
 There was a pause, and then Lothair remarked : ' You 
 said, sir, that the Council would show to the civil powers 
 of the Christian world the inevitable future they are pre- 
 paring for themselves ? ' 
 
 ' Even so. Now mark this, my child. At the Council 
 of Trent the Christian powers were represented, and pro- 
 perly so. Their seats will be empty at the Council of the 
 Vatican. What does that mean ? The separation between 
 Church and State, talked of for a long time, now demon- 
 strated. And what does separation between Church and 
 State mean ? That society is no longer consecrated. The 
 civil governments of the world no longer profess to be 
 Catholic. The faithful indeed among their subjects will 
 be represented at the Council by their pastors, but the 
 civil powers have separated themselves from the Church ; 
 either by royal edict, or legislative enactment, or revolu- 
 tionary changes, they have abolished the legal status of the 
 Catholic Church within their territory. It is not their 
 choice ; they are urged on by an invisible power that is 
 anti-Christian, and which is the true, natural, and impla- 
 cable enemy of the one visible and universal Church. The 
 coming anarchy is called progress, because it . advances 
 along the line of departure from the old Christian order of 
 the world. Christendom was the offspring of the Christian 
 family, and the foundation of the Christian family is the 
 sacrament of matrimony, the spring of all domestic and 
 public morals. The an ti- Christian societies are opposed to 
 the principle of home. When they have destroyed tho
 
 454 LOTHAIR. 
 
 hearth, the morality of society will perish. A settlement 
 in the foundations may be slow in sinking, but it brings all 
 down at last. The next step in de-Christianising the poli- 
 tical life of nations is to establish national education with- 
 out Christianity. This is systematically aimed at wherever 
 the revolution has its way. The period and policy of 
 Julian are returning. Some think this bodes ill for the 
 Church ; no, it is the State that will suffer. The Secret 
 Societies are hurrying the civil governments of the world, 
 and mostly the governments who disbelieve in their 
 existence, to the brink of a precipice, over which monar- 
 chies and law and civil order will ultimately fall and perish 
 together.' 
 
 ' Then all is hopeless,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' To human speculation,' said the Cardinal ; ' but none 
 can fathom the mysteries of Divine interposition. This 
 coming Council may save society, and on that I would 
 speak to you most earnestly. His Holiness has resolved 
 to invite the schismatic priesthoods to attend it and labour 
 to bring about the unity of Christendom. He will send an 
 ambassador to the Patriarch of the heresy of Photius, which 
 is called the Greek Church. He will approach Lambeth. 
 I have little hope of the latter, though there is more than 
 one of the Anglican bishops who revere the memory and 
 example of Laud. But I by no means despair of your 
 communion being present in some form at the Council. 
 There are true spirits at Oxford who sigh for unity. They 
 will form, I hope, a considerable deputation ; but as, not 
 yet being prelates, they cannot take their seats formally in 
 the Council, I wish, in order to increase and assert their 
 influence, that they should be accompanied by a band of 
 powerful laymen, who shall represent the pious and pure 
 mind of England, the coming guardians of the land in the 
 dark hour that may be at hand. Considering your previous 
 knowledge of Rome, your acquaintance with its eminent
 
 LOTHAIR. 4=55 
 
 men and its language, and considering too, as I well know, 
 that the Holy Father looks to you as one marked out by 
 Providence to assert the truth, it woxild please me, and, 
 trust me, it would be wise in you, were you to visit Rome 
 on this sublime occasion, and perhaps put your mark on 
 the world's history.' 
 
 ' It must yet be a long time before the Council meets,' 
 said Lothair, after a pause. 
 
 ' Not too long for preparation,' replied the Cardinal. 
 ' From this hour, until its assembling, the pulse of humanity 
 will throb. Even at this hour they are speaking of the 
 same matters as ourselves alike on the Euphrates and the 
 St. Lawrence. The good Catesby is in Ireland, conferring 
 with the bishops, and awakening them to the occasion. 
 There is a party among them narrow-minded and local, 
 the effects of their education. There ought not to be an 
 Irish priest who was not brought up at the Propaganda. 
 You know that admirable institution. We had some happy 
 hours at Rome together, may we soon repeat thorn ! You 
 were very unwell there ; next time you will judge of Rome 
 in health and vigour.' 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXV. 
 
 THEY gay there is a skeleton in every house ; it may be 
 doubted. What is more certain are the sorrow and per- 
 plexity which sometimes, without a warning and prepara- 
 tion, suddenly fall upon a family living in a world of 
 happiness and ease, and meriting their felicity by every 
 gift of fortune and disposition. 
 
 Perhaps there never was a circle that enjoyed life more, 
 and deserved to enjoy life more, than the Brentham family. 
 Never was a family more admired and less envied. Nobody
 
 456 LOTHAIE. 
 
 grudged them their happy gifts and accidents, for their 
 demeanour was so winning, and their manners so cordial 
 and sympathetic, that everyone felt as if he shared their 
 amiable prosperity. And yet, at this moment, the Duchess, 
 whose countenance was always as serene as her soul, was 
 walking with disturbed visage and agitated step up and 
 down the private room of the Duke ; while his Grace, 
 seated, his head upon his arm, and with his eyes on the 
 ground, was apparently in anxious thought. 
 
 Now what had happened ? It seems that these excel- 
 lent parents had become acquainted, almost at the same 
 moment, with two astounding and disturbing facts : theii 
 son wanted to marry Euphrosyne Cantacuzene, and their 
 daughter would not marry the Duke of Brecon. 
 
 'I was so perfectly unprepared for the communication,' 
 said the Duke, looking up, ' that I have no doubt I did not 
 express myself as I ought to have done. But I do not 
 think I said anything wrong. I showed surprise, sorrow ; 
 no anger. I was careful not to say anything to hurt his 
 feelings ; that is a great point in these matters : nothing 
 disrespectful of the young lady. I invited him to speak to 
 me again about it when I had a little got over my surprise.' 
 
 ' It is really a catastrophe,' exclaimed the Duchess ; 
 ' and only think I came to you for sympathy in my 
 sorrow, which, after all, though distressing, is only a 
 mortification ! ' 
 
 ' I am very sorry about Brecon,' said the Duke, 'who is 
 a man of honour, and who would have suited us very well ; 
 but, my dear Augusta, I never took exactly the same view of 
 this affair as you did : I was never satisfied that Corisande 
 returned his evident, I might say avowed, admiration of 
 her.' 
 
 ' She spoke of him always with great respect,' said the 
 Duchess, 'and that is much in a girl of Corisande's dis- 
 position. I never heard her speak of any of her admirers 
 in the same tone ; certainly not of Lord Carisbrooke ; I
 
 LOTHAIB. 457 
 
 was quite prepared for her rejection of him. She never 
 encouraged him.' 
 
 ' Well,' said the Duke, ' I grant you it is mortifying, 
 infinitely distressing ; and -Brecon is the last man I could 
 have wished that it should occur to ; but, after all, our 
 daughter must decide for herself in such affairs. She is 
 the person most interested in the event. I never influ- 
 enced her sisters in their choice, and she also must be free. 
 The other subject is more grave.' 
 
 ' If we could only ascertain who she really is,' said the 
 Duchess. 
 
 'According to Bertram, fully our equal ; but I confess I 
 am no judge of Levantine nobility,' his Grace added, with a 
 mingled expression of pride and despair. 
 
 ' That dreadful travelling abroad ! ' exclaimed the Duchess. 
 ' I always had a foreboding of something disastrous from 
 it. Why should he have gone abroad, who has never been 
 to Ireland, or seen half the counties of his own country ? ' 
 
 ' They all will go,' said the Duke ; ' and I thought, with 
 St. Aldegonde, he was safe from getting into any scrape of 
 this kind.' 
 
 ' I should like to speak to Granville about it,' said the 
 Duchess. ' When he is serious, his judgment is good.' 
 
 * I am to see St. Aldegonde before I speak to Bertram,' 
 said the Duke. ' I should not be surprised if he were here 
 immediately.' 
 
 One of the social mysteries is, ' how things get about ! ' 
 It was not the interest of any of the persons immediately 
 connected with the subject that society should be aware 
 that the Lady Corisande had declined the proposal of the 
 Duke of Brecon. Society had no right even to assume 
 that such a proposal was either expected or contemplated. 
 The Duke of Brecon admired Lady Corisande, so did 
 many others ; and many others were admired by the 
 Duke of Brecon. The Duchess even hoped that, as the 
 season was waning, it mjght break up, and people go into
 
 458 LOTHAIR 
 
 the country or abroad, and nothing be observed. And 
 yet it ' got about.' The way things get about is through 
 the Hugo Bohuns. Nothing escapes their quick eyes and 
 slow hearts. Their mission is to peer into society, like 
 professional astronomers ever on the watch to detect the 
 slightest change in the phenomena. Never embarrassed 
 by any passion of their own, and their only social 
 scheming being to maintain their transcendent position, 
 all their life and energy are devoted to the discovery of 
 what is taking place around them ; and experience, com- 
 bined with natural tact, invests them with almost a super- 
 natural skill in the detection of social secrets. And so it 
 happened that scarcely a week had passed before Hugo 
 began to sniff the air, and then to make fine observations 
 at balls, as to whom certain persons danced with, or did 
 not dance with ; and then he began the curious process of 
 what he called putting two and two together, and putting 
 two and two together proved in about a fortnight that it 
 was all up between Lady Corisande and the Duke of Brecon. 
 
 Among others he imparted this information to Lothair, 
 and it set Lothair a- thinking ; and he went to a ball that 
 evening solely with the purpose of making social observa- 
 tions like Hugo Bohun. But Lady Corisande was not 
 there, though the Duke of Brecon was, apparently in high 
 spirits, and waltzing more than once with Lady Grizell 
 Falkirk. Lothair was not very fortunate in his attempts 
 to see Bertram. He called more than once at Crecy 
 House too, but in vain. The fact is, Bertram was natu- 
 rally entirely engrossed with his own difficulties, and the 
 Duchess, harassed and mortified, could no longer be at 
 home in the morning. 
 
 Her Grace, however, evinced the just appreciation of 
 character for which women are remarkable, in the confi- 
 dence which she reposed in the good sense of Lord St. 
 Aldegonde at this crisis. St. Aldegonde was the only one
 
 LOTHAJB. 459 
 
 of his sons-in-law whom the Duke really considered and a 
 little feared. When St. Aldegonde was serious, his inflo^ 
 ence over men was powerful. And he was serious now. 
 St. Aldegonde, who was not conventional, had made the 
 acquaintance of Mr. Cantacuzene immediately on his return 
 to England, and they had become friends. He had dined 
 in the Tyburnian palace of the descendant of the Greek 
 Emperors more than once, and had determined to make his 
 second son, who was only four years of age, a Greek mer- 
 chant. When the Duke therefore consulted him on ' the 
 catastrophe,' St. Aldegonde took high ground, spoke of 
 Euphrosyne in the way she deserved, as one equal to an 
 elevated social position, and deserving it. ' But if you 
 ask me my opinion, sir,' he continued, ' I do not think, 
 except for Bertram's sake, that you have any cause to fret 
 yourself. The family wish her to marry her cousin, the 
 eldest son of the Prince of Samos. It is an alliance of the 
 highest, and suits them much better than any connection 
 with us. Besides, Cantacuzene will give his children large 
 fortunes, and they like the money to remain in the family. 
 A hundred or a hundred and fifty thousand pounds, per- 
 haps more, goes a great way on the coasts of Asia Minor 
 You might buy up half the Archipelago. The Cantacu- 
 zenes are coming to dine with us next week. Bertha ia 
 delighted with them. Mr. Cantacuzene is so kind as to 
 say he will take Clovis into his counting-house. I wish 1 
 could induce your Grace to come and meet him : then you 
 could judge for yourself. You would not be in the least 
 shocked were Bertram to marry the daughter of some of 
 our great merchants or bankers. This is a great mer- 
 chant and banker, and the descendant of princes, and his 
 daughter one of the most beautiful and gifted of women, 
 and worthy to be a princess.' 
 
 ' There is a good deal in what St. Aldegonde says,' said 
 the Duke afterwards to his wife. ' The aflair takes rather
 
 4GO LOTHAtR. 
 
 a different aspect. It appears they are really people of 
 high consideration, and great wealth too. Nobody could 
 describe them as adventurers.' 
 
 ' We might gain a little time,' said the Duchess, ' I dis- 
 like peremptory decisions. It is a pity we have not an 
 opportunity of seeing the young lady.' 
 
 ' Granville says she is the most beautiful woman he ever 
 met, except her sister.' 
 
 ' That is the artist's wife ? ' said the Duchess. 
 
 ' Yes, ' said the Duke ; ' I believe a most distinguished 
 man, but it rather adds to the imbroglio. Perhaps things 
 may turn out better than they first promised. The fact is, 
 I am more amazed than annoyed. Granville knows the 
 father, it seems, intimately. He knows so many odd 
 people. He wants me to meet him at dinner. What do 
 you think about it ? It is a good thing sometimes to judge 
 for oneself. They say this Prince of Samos she is half 
 betrothed to is attache to the Turkish Embassy at Vienna, 
 and is to visit England.' 
 
 ' My nervous system is quite shaken,' said the Duchess. 
 ' I wish we could all go to Brentham. I mentioned it to 
 Corisande this morning, and I was surprised to find that 
 she wished to remain in town.' 
 
 'Well, we will decide nothing, my dear, in a hurry. St. 
 Aldegonde says that, if we decide in that sense, he will under- 
 take to break off the whole affair. We may rely on that. We 
 need consider the business only with reference to Bertram's 
 happiness and feelings. This is an important issue no 
 doubt, but it is a limited one. The business is not of so 
 disagreeable a nature as it seemed. It is not an affair of a 
 rash engagement in a discreditable quarter from which he 
 cannot extricate himself. There is no doubt they are 
 thoroughly reputable people, and will sanction nothing 
 which is not decorous and honourable. St. Aldegonde has 
 been a comfort to me in this matter ; and you will find out
 
 LOTHAIR. , 461 
 
 a great deal when you speak to him about it. Things 
 might be worse. I wish I was as easy about the Duke 
 of Brecon. I met him this morning and rode with him, to 
 show there was no change in my feelings.' 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXVI 
 
 THE world goes on with its aching hearts and its smiling 
 faces, and very often, when a year has revolved, the world 
 finds out there was no sufficient cause for the sorrows or 
 the smiles. There is much unnecessary anxiety in the 
 world, which is apt too hastily to calculate the conse- 
 quences of any unforeseen event, quite forgetting that, acute 
 as it is in observation, the world, where the future is con- 
 cerned, is generally wrong. The Duchess would have liked 
 to bury herself in the shades of Brentham, but Lady Cori- 
 sande, who deported herself as if there were no care at 
 Crecy House except that occasioned by her brother's rash 
 engagement, was of opinion that ' Mamma would only 
 brood over this vexation in the country,' and that it would 
 be much better not to anticipate the close of the waning 
 season. So the Duchess and her lovely daughter were seen 
 everywhere where they ought to be seen, and appeared the 
 pictures of serenity and satisfaction. 
 
 As for Bertram's affair itself, under the manipulation of 
 St. Aldegonde it began to assume a less anxious and more 
 practicable aspect. The Duke was desirous to secure his 
 son's happiness, but wished nothing to be done rashly. If, 
 for example, in a year's time or so, Bertram continued in 
 the same mind, his father would never be an obstacle to 
 his well-considered wishes. In the meantime an oppor- 
 tunity might offer of makuig the acquaintance of the young 
 laxly and her friends.
 
 402 LOTHAIR. 
 
 And in the meantime the world went on, dancing and 
 betting and banqueting, and making speeches, and break- 
 ing hearts and heads, till the time arrived when social 
 stock is taken, the results of the campaign estimated and 
 ascertained, and the dark question asked, ' Where do you 
 think of going this year ? ' 
 
 ' We shall certainly winter at Rome,' said Lady St. 
 Jerome to Lady Clanmorne, who was paying a morn- 
 ing visit. ' I wish you could induce Lord Clanmorne to 
 join us.' 
 
 ' I wish so too,' said the lady, ' but that is impossible. 
 He never will give up his hunting.' 
 
 ' I am sure there are more foxes in the Campagna than 
 at Vauxe,' said Lady St. Jerome. 
 
 ' I suppose you have heard of what they call the double 
 event ? ' said Lady Clanmorne. 
 
 ' No.' 
 
 ' Well, it is quite true ; Mr. Bohun told me last night, 
 and he always knows everything.' 
 
 ' Everything ! ' said Lady St. Jerome ; ' but what is it 
 tbat he knows now ? ' 
 
 ' Both the Ladies Falkirk ai*e to be married, and on the 
 same day.' 
 
 ' But to whom ? ' 
 
 ' Whom should you think ? ' 
 
 ' I will not even guess,' said Lady St. Jerome. 
 
 ' Clare,' she said to Miss Arundel, who was engaged 
 apart, ' you always find out conundrums. Lady Clanmorne 
 has got some news for us. Lady Flora Falkirk and her 
 sister are going to be married, and on the same day. And 
 to whom, think you ? ' 
 
 'Well, I should think that somebody has made Lord 
 Carisbrooke a happy man,' said Miss Arundel. 
 
 ' Very good,' said Lady Clanmorne. ' I think Lady 
 Flora will make an excellent Lady Carisbrooke. He is not
 
 LOTHAIR. 463 
 
 quite as tall as she is, but lie is a man of inches. And now 
 for Lady Grizell.' 
 
 ' My powers of divination are quite exhausted,' said Miss 
 Arundel. 
 
 ' Well, I will not keep you in suspense,' said Lady Clan- 
 morne. ' Lady Grizell is to be Duchess of Brecon.' 
 
 ' Duchess of Brecon ! ' exclaimed both Miss Arundel and 
 Lady St. Jerome. 
 
 ' I always admired the ladies,' said Miss Arundel. 'We 
 met them at a country house last year, and I thought them 
 pleasing in every way, artless and yet piquant ; but I did 
 not anticipate their fate being so soon sealed. 
 
 ' And so brilliantly,' added Lady St. Jerome. 
 
 ' Tou met them at Muriel Towers,' said Lady Clan- 
 morne. ' I heard of you there : a most distinguished party. 
 There was an American lady there, was there not ? a 
 charming person, who sang and acted, and did all sorts of 
 things.' 
 
 ' Yes ; there was. I believe, however, she was an 
 Italian, married to an American.' 
 
 ' Have you seen much of your host at Muriel Towers ? ' 
 said Lady Clanmorne. 
 
 ' We see him frequently,' said Lady St. Jerome- 
 
 ' Ah ! yes, I remember ; I met him at Vaux>> the other 
 day. He is a great admirer of yours,' Lady Clanmorne 
 added, addressing Miss Arundel. 
 
 ' Oh ! we are friends, and have long been so,' said Miss 
 Arundel, and she left the room. 
 
 ' Clare does not recognise admirers,' said Lady St. Jerome 
 gravely. 
 
 ' I hope the ecclesiastical fancy is not reviving,' said Lady 
 Clanmorne. ' I was half in hopes that the lord of Muriel 
 Towers might have deprived the Church of its bride.' 
 
 ' That could never be,' said Lady St. Jerome ; ' though, 
 if it could have been, a source of happiness to Lord St>
 
 464 LOTHAIB. 
 
 Jerome and myself would not have been wanting. We 
 greatly regard our kinsman, but between ourselves,' added 
 Lady St. Jerome in a low voice, ' it was supposed that he 
 was attached to the American lady of whom you were 
 speaking.' 
 
 ' And where is she now ? ' 
 
 ' I have heard nothing of late. Lothair was in Italy at 
 the same time as ourselves, and was ill there, under our 
 roof; so we saw a great deal of him. Afterwards he tra- 
 velled for his health, and has now just returned from the 
 East.' 
 
 A visitor was announced, and Lady Clanmorne retired. 
 
 Nothing happens as you expect. On his voyage home 
 Lothair had indulged in dreams of renewing his intimacy 
 ab Crecy House, around whose hearth al] his sympathies 
 were prepared to cluster. The first shock to this romance 
 was the news he received of the impending union of Lady 
 Corisande with the Duke of Brecon. And what with this 
 unexpected obstacle to intimacy, and the domestic embar- 
 rassments occasioned by Bertram's declaration, he had 
 become a stranger to a roof which had so filled his 
 thoughts. It seemed to him that he could not enter the 
 house either as the admirer of the daughter or as the friend 
 of her brother. She was probably engaged to another, and 
 as Bertram's friend and fellow-traveller, he fancied he was 
 looked upon by the family as one who had in some degree 
 contributed to their mortification. Much of this was imagi- 
 nary, but Lothair was very sensitive, and the result was 
 that he ceased to call at Crecy House, and for some time 
 kept aloof from the Duchess and her daughter, when he 
 met them in general society. He was glad to hear from 
 Bertram and St. Aldegonde that the position of the former 
 was beginning to soften at home, and that the sharpness of 
 his announcement was passing away. And when he had 
 clearly ascertained that the contemplated union of Lady
 
 LOTHATR. 465 
 
 Corisande with the Duke was certainly not to take place, 
 Lothair began to reconnoitre, and try to resume his original 
 position. But his reception was not encouraging, at least 
 not sufficiently cordial for one who by nature was retiring 
 and reserved. Lady Corisande was always kind, and after 
 some time he danced with her again. But there were no 
 invitations to luncheon from the Duchess ; they never 
 asked him to dinner. His approaches were received with 
 courtesy, but he was not courted. 
 
 The announcement of the marriage of the Duke of 
 Brecon did not, apparently, in any degree distress Lady 
 Corisande. On the contrary, she expressed much satisfac- 
 tion at her two young friends settling in life with such 
 success and splendour. The ambition both of Lady Flora 
 and Lady Grizell was that Corisande should be a brides- 
 maid. This would be a rather awkward post to occupy 
 under the circumstances, so she embraced both, and said 
 that she loved them both so equally, that she would not 
 give a preference to either, and therefore, though she cer- 
 tainly would attend their weddings, she would refrain 
 from taking part in the ceremony. 
 
 The Duchess went with Lady Corisande one morning to 
 Mr. Ruby's to choose a present from her daughter to each 
 of the young ladies. Mr. Ruby in a back shop poured 
 forth his treasures of bracelets, and rings, and lockets. The 
 presents must be similar in value and in beauty, and yet 
 there must be some difference between them ; so it was a 
 rather long and troublesome investigation, Mr. Ruby as 
 usual varying its monotony, or mitigating its wearisome- 
 ness, by occasionally, or suddenly, exhibiting some splendid 
 or startling production of his art. The parure of an Empress, 
 the bracelets of Grand-Duchesses, a wonderful fan that was 
 to flutter in the hands of Majesty, had all in due course 
 appeared, as well as the black pearls and yellow diamonds 
 
 H B
 
 466 LOTH Am. 
 
 that figure and flash on such occasions, before eyes so 
 favoured and so fair. 
 
 At last (for, like a prudent general, Mr. Ruby had 
 always a great reserve), opening a case, he said, ' There ! ' 
 and displayed a crucifix of the most exquisite workmanship 
 and the most precious materials. 
 
 ' I have no hesitation in saying the rarest jewel which 
 this century has produced. See ! the figure by Monti ; a 
 masterpiece. Every emerald in the cross a picked stone. 
 These corners, your Grace is aware,' said Mr. Ruby con- 
 descendingly, ' contain the earth of the holy places at 
 Jerusalem. It has been shown to no one but your Grace.' 
 
 ' It is indeed most rare and beautiful,' said the Duchess, 
 ' and most interesting too, from containing the earth of the 
 holy places. A commission, of cour.se ? ' 
 
 ' From one of our most eminent patrons,' and then he 
 mentioned Lothair's name. 
 
 Lady Corisande looked agitated. 
 
 * Not for himself,' said Mr. Ruby. 
 
 Lady Corisande seemed relieved. 
 
 ' It is a present to a young lady, Miss Arundel.' 
 
 Lady Corisande changed colour, and turning away, 
 walked towards a case of works of art, which was in the 
 centre of the shop, and appeared to be engrossed in their 
 examination. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXVII. 
 
 A DAT or two after this adventure of the crucifix, Lothair 
 met Bertram, who said to him, ' By the bye, if you want to 
 see my people before they leave town, you must call at 
 once.' 
 
 ' You do not mean that,' replied Lothair, much surprised. 
 ' Why, the Duchess told me, only three or four days ago,
 
 LOTHAIR. 467 
 
 that they should not leave town until the end of the first 
 week of August. They are going to the weddings.' 
 
 ' I do not know what my mother said to you, my dear 
 fellow, but they go to Brentham the day after to-morrow, 
 and will not return. The Duchess has been for a long 
 time wishing this, but Corisande would stay. She thought 
 they would only bother themselves about my affairs, and 
 there was more distraction for them in town. But now 
 they are going, and it is for Corisande they go. She is not 
 well, and they have suddenly resolved to depart.' 
 
 ' Well, I am very sorry to hear it,' said Lothair ; ' I shall 
 call at Crecy House. Do you think they will see me ? ' 
 
 1 Certain.' 
 
 ' And what are your plans ? ' 
 
 * I have none,' said Bertram. ' I suppose I must not 
 leave my father alone at this moment. He has behaved 
 well ; very kindly, indeed. I have nothing to complain of. 
 But still all is vague, and I feel somehow or other I ought 
 to be about him.' 
 
 ' Have you heard from our dear friends abroad ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Bertram, with a sigh, ' Enphrosyne writes to 
 me ; but I believe St. Aldegonde knows more about their 
 views and plans than I do. He and Mr. Phoebus correspond 
 much. I wish to heaven they were here, or rather that we 
 were with them,' he added, with another sigh. ' How 
 happy we all were at Jerusalem ! How I hate London ! 
 And Brentham worse. I shall have to go to a lot of agri- 
 cultural dinners and all sorts of things. The Duke expects 
 it, and I am bound now to do everything to please him 
 What do you think of doing ? ' 
 
 ' I neither know nor care,' said Lothair, in a tone of 
 great despondency. 
 
 ' You are a little hipped.' 
 
 ' Not a little. I suppose it is the excitement of the last 
 two years that has sjxnled me for ordinary life But I
 
 43S LOTHAIR, 
 
 Cnd the whole thing utterly intolerable, and regret now 
 that I did not rejoin the staff of the General. I shall never 
 have such a chance again. It was a mistake ; but one is 
 born to blunder.' 
 
 Lothair called at Crecy House. The hall-porter was not 
 sure whether the Duchess was at home, and the groom of 
 the chambers went to see. Lothair had never experienced 
 this form. When the groom of the chambers came down 
 again, he gave her Grace's compliments, but she had a 
 headache, and was obliged to lie down, and was sorry she 
 could not see Lothair, who went away livid. 
 
 Crecy House was only a few hundred yards from St. 
 James's Square, and Lothair repaired to an accustomed 
 haunt. He was not in a humour for society, and yet he 
 required sympathy. There were some painful associations 
 with the St. Jerome family, and yet they had many 
 charms. And the painful associations had been greatly 
 removed by their easy and cordial reception of him, and 
 the charms had been renewed and increased by subsequent 
 intercourse. After all, they were the only people who had 
 always been kind to him. And if they had erred in a 
 great particular, they had been animated by pure, and even 
 sacred, motives. And had they erred ? Were not his 
 present feelings of something approaching to desolation a 
 fresh proof that the spirit of man can alone be sustained 
 by higher relations than merely human ones ? So he 
 knocked at the door, and Lady St. Jerome was at home. 
 She had not a headache ; there were no mysterious whisper- 
 ings between hall-porters and grooms of the chamber, to 
 ascertain whether he was one of the initiated. Whether it 
 were London or Vauxe, the eyes of the household proved 
 that he was ever a welcome and cherished guest. 
 
 Lady St. Jerome was alone, and rose from her writing- 
 table to receive him. And then, for she was a lady who 
 never lost a moment, she resumed some work, which did
 
 LOTHAIE. 469 
 
 nou interfere with their conversation. Her talking re- 
 
 O 
 
 sources were so happy and inexhaustible, that it signified 
 little that her visitor, who was bound in that character to 
 have something to say, was silent and moody. 
 
 'My Lord,' she continued, 'has taken the Palazzo 
 Agostini for a term. I think we should always pass our 
 winters at Borne under any circumstances ; but (the Car- 
 dinal has spoken to you about the great event) if that 
 comes off, of which, between ourselves, whatever the 
 world may say, I believe there is no sort of doubt, we 
 should not think of being absent from Rome for a day 
 during the Council.' 
 
 ' Why ! it may last years,' said Lothair. ' There is no 
 reason why it should not last as long as the Council of 
 Trent. It has in reality much more to do.' 
 
 ' We do things quicker now,' said Lady St. Jerome. 
 
 ' That depends on what there is to do. To revive faith 
 is more difficult than to create it.' 
 
 ' There will be no difficulty when the Church has 
 assembled,' said Lady St. Jerome. 'This sight of the 
 universal Fathers coming from the uttermost ends of the 
 earth to bear witness to the truth will at once sweep away 
 all the vain words and vainer thoughts of this unhappy 
 century. It will be what they call a great fact, dear 
 Lothair; and when the Holy Spirit descends upon their 
 decrees, my firm belief is the whole world will rise as it 
 were from a trance, and kneel before the divine tomb of 
 St. Peter.' 
 
 ' Well, we shall see,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' The Cardinal wishes you very much to attend the 
 Council. He wishes you to attend it as an Anglican, 
 representing with a few others our laity. He says it would 
 have the very best effect for religion.' 
 
 ' He spoke to me.' 
 
 ' And you agreed to go ? '
 
 470 LOTHAIR. 
 
 * I have not refused him. If I thought I could do any 
 good, I am not sure I would not go,' said Lothair ; ' but 
 from what I have seen of the Roman Court, there is little 
 hope of reconciling our differences. Rome is stubborn. 
 Now, look at the difficulties they make about the marriage 
 of a Protestant and one of their own communion. It is 
 cruel, and I think on their part unwise.' 
 
 ' The sacrament of marriage is of ineffable holiness,' said 
 Lady St. Jerome. 
 
 ' I do not wish to deny that,' said Lothair, ' but I see no 
 reason why I should not marry a Roman Catholic if I 
 liked, without the Roman Church interfering and entirely 
 regulating my house and home.' 
 
 ' I wish you would speak to Father Coleman about this,' 
 said Lady St. Jerome. 
 
 ' I have had much talk with Father Coleman about 
 many things in my time,' said Lothair, ' but not about 
 this. By the bye, have you any news of the Mon- 
 signore ? ' 
 
 ' He is in Ireland, arranging about the (Ecumenical 
 Council. They do not understand these matters there as 
 well as we do in England, and his Holiness, by the 
 Cardinal's advice, has sent the Monsignore to put things 
 right.' 
 
 ' All the Father Colemans in the world cannot alter the 
 state of affairs about mixed marriages,' said Lothair ; ' they 
 can explain, but they cannot alter. I want change in this 
 matter, and Rome never changes.' 
 
 ' It is impossible for the Church to change,' said Lady 
 St. Jerome, ' because it is Truth.' 
 
 ' Is Miss Arundel at home ? ' said Lothair. 
 
 ' I believe so,' said Lady St. Jerome. 
 
 ' I never see her now,' he said discontentedly. ' She 
 never goes to balls, and she never rides. Except occasion- 
 ally under this roof, she is invisible.'
 
 LOTHAIR 471 
 
 ' Clare does not go any longer into society,' said Lady 
 St. Jerome. 
 
 'Why?' 
 
 ' Well, it is a secret,' said Lady St. Jerome, with some 
 disturbance of countenance, and speaking in a lower tone ; 
 ' at least, at present ; and yet I can hardly on such a 
 subject wish that there should be a secret from you : Clare 
 is about to take the veil.' 
 
 ' Then I have not a friend left in the world,' said 
 Lothair, in a despairing tone. 
 
 Lady St. Jerome looked at him with an anxious glance. 
 ' Yes,' she continued, ' I do not wish to conceal it from 
 you, that for a time we could have wished it otherwise ; 
 it has been, it is a trying event for my Lord and myself : 
 but the predisposition, which was always strong, has ended 
 in a determination so absolute, that we recognise the 
 Divine purpose in her decision, and we bow to it.' 
 
 ' I do not bow to it,' said Lothair ; ' I think it barbarous 
 and unwise.' 
 
 ' Hush ! hush ! dear friend.' 
 
 ' And does the Cardinal approve of this step ? ' 
 
 * Entirely.' 
 
 ' Then my confidence in him is entirely destroyed,' said 
 Lothair. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXVIII. 
 
 Ir WAS August, and town was thinning fast. Parliament 
 still lingered, but only for technical purposes ; the political 
 struggle of the session having terminated at the end of 
 July. One social event was yet to be consummated : the 
 marriages of Lothair's cousins. They were to be married 
 on the same day, at the same time, and in the same place. 
 Westminster Abbey was to be the scene, and as it was
 
 472 LOTHATE. 
 
 understood that the service was to be choral, great expecta- 
 tions of ecclesiastical splendour and effect were much anti- 
 cipated by the fair sex. They were however doomed to dis- 
 appointment, for although the day was fine, the attendance 
 numerous and brilliant beyond precedent, Lord Culloden 
 would have 'no popery.' Lord Carisbrooke, who was a 
 ritualist, murmured, and was encouraged in his resistance 
 by Lady Clanmorne and a party, but as the Duke of Brecon 
 was high and dry, there was a want of united action, and 
 Lord Culloden had his way. 
 
 After the ceremony, the world repaired to the mansion of 
 Lord Culloden in Belgrave Square, to inspect the presents, 
 and to partake of a dinner called a breakfast. Cousin Lo- 
 thair wandered about the rooms, and had the satisfaction of 
 seeing a bracelet with a rare and splendid sapphire which 
 he had given to Lady Flora, and a circlet of diamond stars 
 which he had placed on the brow of the Duchess of Brecon. 
 The St. Aldegondes were the only members of the Brentham 
 family who were present. St. Aldegonde had a taste for 
 marriages and public executions, and Lady St. Aldegonde 
 wandered about with Lothair, and pointed out to him Cori- 
 sande's present to his cousins. 
 
 ' I never was more disappointed than by your family leav- 
 ing town so early this year,' he said. 
 
 'We were quite surprised.' 
 
 ' I am sorry to hear your sister is indisposed.' 
 
 ' Corisande ! she is perfectly well.' 
 
 ' I hope the Duchess's headache is better,' said Lothair. 
 ' She could not receive me when I called to say farewell, 
 because she had a headache.' 
 
 ' I never knew Mamma have a headache,' said Lady St. 
 Aldegonde. 
 
 ' I suppose you will be going to Brentham P ' 
 
 ' Next week.' 
 
 * And Bertram too ? '
 
 LOTHA1K. 473 
 
 ' I fancy that we shall be all there.' 
 
 * I suppose we may consider now that tho season is really 
 over ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; they stayed for this. I should not he surprised if 
 everyone in these rooms had disappeared by to-morrow.' 
 ' Except myself,' said Lothair. 
 
 * Do you think of going abroad again ? ' 
 
 * One might as well go,' said Lothair, ' as remain.' 
 
 ' I wish Granville would take me to Paris. It seems so 
 odd not to have seen Paris. All I want is to see the new 
 streets and dine at a cafe.' 
 
 ' Well, you have an object ; that is something,' said Lo- 
 thair. * I have none.' 
 
 'Men have always objects,' said Lady St. Aldegonde. 
 ' They make business when they have none, or it makes it- 
 self. They move about, and it comes.' 
 
 ' I have moved about a great deal,' said Lothair, ' and no- 
 thing has come to me but disappointment. I think I shall 
 take to croquet, like that curious gentleman I remember at 
 Brentham.' 
 
 ' Ah ! you remember everything.' 
 
 'It is not easy to forget anything at Brentham,' said 
 Lothair. ' It is just two years ago. That was a happy time.' 
 
 ' I doubt whether our re-assembling will be quite as happy 
 this year,' said Lady St. Aldegonde, in a serious tone. ' This 
 engagement of Bertram is an anxious business ; I never 
 saw Papa before really fret. And there are other things 
 which are not without vexation ; at least to Mamma.' 
 
 ' I do not think I am a great favourite of your Mamma,' 
 said Lothair. ' She once used to be very kind to me, but 
 she is so no longer.' 
 
 ' I am sure you mistake her,' said Lady St. Aldegonde, 
 but not in a 1*>ne which indicated any confidence in 
 her remark. ' Mamma is anxious about my brother, and 
 all that.'
 
 474 LOTHAIR. 
 
 * I believe the Duchess thinks that I am in some way or 
 other connected with this embarrassment ; but I really had 
 nothing to do with it, though I could not refuse my testi- 
 mony to the charms of the young lady, and my belief she 
 would make Bertram a happy man.' 
 
 ' As for that, you know, Granville saw a great deal more 
 of her, at least at Jerusalem, than you did, and he has said 
 to Mamma a great deal more than you have done.' 
 
 ' Yes ; but she thinks that had it not been for me, Ber- 
 tram would never have known the Phoebus family. She 
 could not conceal that from me, and it has poisoned her 
 mind.' 
 
 ' Oh ! do not use such words.' 
 
 ' Yes ; but they are true. And your sister is prejudiced 
 against me also.' 
 
 ' That I am sure she is not,' said Lady St. Aldegonde 
 quickly. ' Corisande was always your friend.' 
 
 ' Well, they refused to see me, when we may never meet 
 again for months, perhaps for years,' said Lothair, ' perhaps 
 never.' 
 
 ' What shocking things you are saying, my dear Lord, 
 to-day ! Here, Lord Culloden wants you to return thanks 
 for the bridesmaids. You must put on a merry face.' 
 
 The dreary day at last arrived, and very quickly, when 
 Lothair was the only person left in town. When there is 
 nobody you know in London, the million that go about are 
 only voiceless phantoms. Solitude in a city is a trance. 
 The motion of the silent beings with whom you have no 
 speech or sympathy only makes the dreamlike existence 
 more intense. It is not so in the country : the voices of 
 nature are abundant, and from the hum of insects to the 
 fall of the avalanche, something is always talking to you. 
 
 Lothair shrank from the streets. He could not endure 
 the dreary glare of St. James's and the desert sheen of 
 Pall Mall. He could mount his horse in the Park, and soon
 
 1A)THAIR. 475 
 
 lose himself in suburban roads that he once loved. Yes ! it 
 was irresistible ; and he made a visit to Belmont. The house 
 was dismantled, and the gardens shorn of their lustre ; but 
 still it was there, very fair in the sunshine, and sanctified 
 in his heart. He visited every room that he had frequented, 
 and lingered in her boudoir. He did not forget the now 
 empty pavilion, and he plucked some flowers that she once 
 loved, and pressed them to his lips, and placed them near 
 hia heart. He felt now what it was that made him un- 
 happy : it was the want of sympathy. 
 
 He walked through the Park to the residence of Mr. 
 Phoebus, where he had directed his groom to meet him. His 
 heart beat as he wandered along, and his eye was dim with 
 tears. What characters and what scenes had he not become 
 acquainted with since his first visit to Belmont ! Ar-d even 
 now, when they had departed, or were absent, what influ- 
 ence were they not exercising over his life, and the life of 
 those most intimate with him ! Had it not been for his 
 pledge to Theodora, it was far from improbable that he 
 would now have been a member of the Roman Catholic 
 Church, and all his hopes at Brentham, and his intimacy 
 with the family on which he had most reckoned in life for 
 permanent friendship and support, seemed to be marred 
 and blighted by the witching eyes of that mirthful Enphro- 
 syne, whose mocking words on the moonlit terrace .-it Bel- 
 mont first attracted his notice to her. And then, by as- 
 sociation of ideas, he thought of the General, and what hia 
 old commander had said at their last interview, reminding 
 him of his fine castle, and expressing Uia conviction that 
 the lord of such a domain must have much to do. 
 
 4 1 will try to do it,' said Lothair, 'aud I will go down to 
 Muriel to-morrow.'
 
 476 LOTHAIR. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIX. 
 
 LOTHAIR, who was very sensible to the charms of nature, 
 found at first relief in the beauties of Muriel. The season 
 was propitious to the scene. August is a rich and leafy 
 month, and the glades and avenues and stately trees of his 
 parks and pleasaunces seemed at the same time to soothe 
 and gladden his perturbed spirit. Muriel was still new to 
 him, and there was much to examine and explore for the 
 first time. He found a consolation also in the frequent re- 
 membrance that these scenes had been known to those 
 whom he loved. Often in the chamber, and ofter in the 
 bower, their forms arose ; sometimes their voices lingered 
 in his ear ; a frolic laugh, or whispered words of kindness 
 and enjoyment. Such a place as Muriel should always be 
 so peopled. But that is impossible. One cannot always 
 have the most agreeable people in the world assembled 
 under one's roof. And yet the alternative should not 
 be the loneliness he now experienced. The analytical 
 Lothair resolved that there was no happiness without sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 The most trying time were the evenings. A man likes 
 to be alone in the morning. He writes his letters and reads 
 the newspapers, attempts to examine his steward's ac- 
 counts, and if he wants society can gossip with his stud- 
 groom. But a solitary evening in the country is gloomy, 
 however brilliant the accessories. As Mr. Phoebus was not 
 present, Lothair violated the prime principles of a first-class 
 Aryan education, and ventured to read a little. It is diffi- 
 cult to decide which is the most valuable companion to a 
 country eremite at his nightly studies, the volume that 
 keeps liim awake or the one that sets him a- slumbering. 
 
 At the end of a week Lothair had some good sport on
 
 LOTHAIB. 477 
 
 hia moors, and this reminded him of the excellent Campian, 
 who had received and answered hk letter. The Colonel, 
 however, held ont but a faint prospect of returning at pre- 
 sent to Europe, though, whenever he did, he promised to 
 be the guest of Lothair. Lothair asked some of his neigh- 
 bours to dinner, and he made two large parties to slaughter 
 his grouse. They were grateful and he was popular, but 
 * we have not an idea in common,' thought Lothair, as 
 wearied and uninterested he bade his last guest his last 
 good-night. Then Lothair paid a visit to the Lord Lieu- 
 tenant, and stayed two nights at Agramont Castle. Here 
 he met many county notables, and ' great was the com- 
 pany of the preachers ; ' but the talk was local or ecclesias- 
 tical, and after the high-spiced condiments of the conversa- 
 tion to which he was accustomed, the present discourse was 
 insipid even to nausea. He sought some relief in the 
 society of Lady Ida- Alice, but she blushed whea she spoke 
 to him, and tittered when he replied to her ; and at last ho 
 found refuge in pretty Mrs. Ardenne, who concluded by 
 asking him for his photograph. 
 
 On the morrow of his return to Muriel, the servant bring- 
 ing in his letters, he seized one in the handwriting of Ber- 
 tram, and discarding the rest, devoured the communication 
 of his friend, which was eventful. 
 
 It seems that the Phoebus family had returned to Eng- 
 land, and were at Brentham, and had been there a week. 
 The family were delighted with them, and Euphrosyne was 
 an especial favourite. But this was not all. It seems that 
 Mr. Cantacuzene had been down to Brentham, and stayed, 
 which he never did anywhere, a couple of days. And the 
 Duke was particularly charmed with Mr. Cantacuzono. 
 This gentleman, who was only in the earlier term of middle 
 age, and looked younger than his age, was distinguished in 
 appearance, highly polished, and singularly acute. He ap- 
 peared to be the master of great wealth, for ho offered to
 
 478 LOTHAIR. 
 
 make upon Euphrosyne any settlement which the Duke 
 desired. He had no son, and did not \vish his sons-in-law 
 to be sighing for his death. He wished his daughters, 
 therefore, to enjoy the bulk of their inheritance in his life- 
 time. He told the Duke that he had placed one hundred 
 thousand pounds in the names of trustees on the marriage 
 of Madame Phoebus, to accumulate, ' and when the genius 
 and vanity of her husband are both exhausted, though I 
 believe they are inexhaustible,' remarked Mr. Cantacuzene, 
 ' it will be a nest's egg for them to fall back upon, and at 
 least save them from penury.' The Duke had no doubt 
 that Mr. Cantacuzene was of imperial lineage. But the 
 latter portion of the letter was the most deeply interesting 
 to Lothair. Bertram wrote that his mother had just ob- 
 served that she thought the Phoebus family would like to 
 meet Lothair, and begged Bertram to invite him to Brent- 
 ham. The letter ended by an urgent request that, if dis- 
 engaged, he should arrive immediately. 
 
 Mr. Phoebus highly approved of Brentham. All was art, 
 and art of a high character. He knew no residence with 
 an aspect so thoroughly Aryan. Though it was really a 
 family party, the house was quite full ; at least, as Bertram 
 said to Lothair on his arrival, ' there is only room for you, 
 and you are in your old quarters.' 
 
 ' That is exactly what I wished,' said Lothair. 
 
 He had to escort the Duchess to dinner. Her manner 
 was of old days. ' I thought you would like .to meet your 
 friends,' she said. 
 
 ' It gives me much pleasure, but much more to find my- 
 self again at Brentham.' 
 
 * There seems every prospect of Bertram being happy. 
 We are enchanted with the young lady. You know her, I 
 F>elieve, well P The Duke is highly pleased with her father, 
 Mr. Cantacuzene ; he says one of the most sensible men he 
 evrer met, and a thorough gentleman, which he may well
 
 LOTHAIR. 479 
 
 be, for I believe there is no doubt he is of the highest de- 
 scent : emperors they say, princes even now. I wish you 
 could have met him, but he would only stay eight-and-forty 
 hour?. I understand his affairs are vast.' 
 
 ' I have always heard a considerable person ; quite the 
 head of the Greek community in this country ; indeed, in 
 Europe generally.' 
 
 ' I see by the morning papers that Miss Arundel has 
 taken the veil.' 
 
 'I missed my papers to-day,' said Lothair, a little 
 agitated, ' but I have long been aware of her intention of 
 doing so.' 
 
 ' Lady St. Jerome will miss her very much. She was 
 quite the soul of the house.' 
 
 ' It must be a great and painful sacrifice,' said Lothair ; 
 ' but, I believe, long meditated. I remember when I was at 
 Vauxe, nearly two years ago, that I was told this was to be 
 her fate. She was quite determined on it.' 
 
 ' I saw the beautiful crucifix you gave her at Mr. Ruby's.' 
 
 ' It was a homage to her for her great goodness to me 
 when I was ill at Rome : and it was difficult to find any- 
 thing that would please or suit her. I fixed on the crucifix, 
 because it permitted me to transfer to it the earth of the 
 holy places, which were included in the crucifix, that was 
 given to me by the monks of the Holy Sepulchre when I 
 made my pilgrimage to Jerusalem.' 
 
 In the evening St. Aldegonde insisted on their dancing, 
 and he engaged himself to Madame Phoebus. Bertram and 
 Euphrosyne seemed never separated ; Lothair was success- 
 ful in inducing Lady Corisande to be his partner. 
 
 ' Do you remember your first ball at Crecy House ? ' 
 asked Lothair. ' You are not nervous now ? ' 
 
 ' I would hardly say that,' said Lady Corisande, * though 
 I try not to show it.' 
 
 ' It was the first ball for both of us,' said Lothair. ' I
 
 480 LOTHAIR. 
 
 have not danced so much in the interval as you have. Do 
 you know, I was thinking just now, I have danced oftener 
 with you than with anyone else ? ' 
 
 ' Are not you glad about Bertram's affair ending so well ? ' 
 
 ' Very ; he will be a happy man. Everybody is happy, I 
 think, except myself.' 
 
 In the course of the evening, Lady St. Aldegonde, on the 
 arm of Lord Montairy, stopped for a moment as she passed 
 Lothair, and said : ' Do you remember our conversation 
 at Lord Culloden's breakfast? Wh*> was right about 
 mamma ? ' 
 
 They passed their long summer days in rambling and 
 riding, and in wondrous new games which they played in the 
 hall. The striking feature, however, were the matches at 
 battledore and shuttlecock between Madame Phoebus and 
 Lord St. Aldegonde, in which the skill and energy displayed 
 were supernatural, and led to betting. The evenings were 
 always gay ; sometimes they danced ; more or less they 
 always had some delicious singing. And Mr. Phoebus ar- 
 ranged some tableaux most successfully. 
 
 Ail this time Lothair hung much about Lady Corisande ; 
 he was by her side in the riding parties, always very near 
 her when they walked, and sometimes he managed uncon- 
 sciously to detach her from the main party, and they almost 
 walked alone. If he could not sit by her at dinner, he 
 joined her immediately afterwards, and whether it were a 
 dance, a tableau, or a new game, somehow or other he 
 seemed always to be her companion. 
 
 It was about a week after the arrival of Lothair, and 
 they were at breakfast at Brentham, in that bright room 
 full of little round tables which Lothair always admired, 
 looking, as it did, upon a garden of many colours. 
 
 ' How I hate modern gardens,' said St. Aldegonde. 
 4 What a horrid thing this is ! One might as well have a 
 mosaic pavement there. Give me cabbage-roses, sweet-
 
 LOTHAUl. 4cil 
 
 peas, and wallflowers. That is my idea of a garden. Cori- 
 sande's garden is the only sensible thing of the sort.' 
 
 ' One likes a mosaic pavement to look like a garden,' 
 said Euphrosyne, ' but not a garden like a mosaic pavement.' 
 
 ' The worst of these mosaic beds,' said Madame Phoebus, 
 ' is, you can never get a nosegay, and if it were not for the 
 kitchen-garden, we should be destitute of that gayest and 
 sweetest of creations.' 
 
 ' Corisande's garden is, since your first visit to Brentham,' 
 said the Duchess to Lothair. 'No flowers are admitted 
 that have not perfume. It is very old-fashioned. You 
 must get her to show it you.' 
 
 It was agreed that after breakfast they should go and 
 see Corisande's garden. And a party did go : all the 
 Phoebus family, and Lord and Lady St. Aldegonde, and 
 Lady Corisande, and Bertram and Lothair. 
 
 In the pleasure-grounds of Brentharn were the remains 
 of an ancient garden of the ancient house that had long 
 ago been pulled down. When the modern pleasure-grounds 
 were planned and created, notwithstanding the protests of 
 the artists in landscape, the father of the present Duke 
 would not allow this ancient garden to be entirely destroyed, 
 and you came upon its quaint appearance in the dissimilar 
 world in which it was placed, as you might in some festival 
 of romantic costume upon a person habited in the courtly 
 dress of the last century. It was formed upon a gentle 
 southern slope, with turfen terraces walled in on three 
 Bides, the fourth consisting of arches of golden yew. The 
 Duke had given this garden to La^y Ccrisande, in order 
 that she might practise her theory, that flower-gardens 
 should be sweet and luxuriant, and not bard and scentless 
 imitations of works of art. Here, in their season, flourished 
 abundantly all those productions of nature which are now 
 banished from our once delighted senses : huge bushes of 
 honeysuckle, and bowers of sweet-pea and sweetbriar and 
 
 I I
 
 482 LOTHAIR. 
 
 jessamine clustering over the walls, and gillyflowers 
 scenting with their sweet breath the ancient bricks from 
 which they seemed to spring. There were banks of violets 
 which the southern breeze always stirred, and mignonette 
 filled every vacant nook. As they entered now, it seemed 
 a blaze of roses and carnations, though one recognised in a 
 moment the presence of the lily, the heliotrope, and the 
 stock. Some white peacocks were basking on the southern 
 wall, and one of them, as their visitors entered, moved and 
 displayed its plumage with scornful pride. The bees were 
 busy in the air, but their homes were near, and you might 
 watch them labouring in their glassy hives. 
 
 ' Now, is not Corisande quite right ? ' said Lord St. Alde- 
 gonde, as he presented Madame Phoebus with a garland of 
 woodbine, with which she said she would dress her head at 
 dinner. All agreed with him, and Bertram and Euphrosyne 
 adorned each other with carnations, and Mr. Phcebus 
 placed a flower on the uncovered head of Lady St. Alde- 
 gonde, according to the principles of high art, and they 
 sauntered and rambled in the sweet and sunny air amid a 
 blaze of butterflies and the ceaseless hum of bees. 
 
 Bertram and Euphrosyne had disappeared, and the rest 
 were lingering about the hives while Mr. Phcebus gave 
 them a lecture on the apiary and its marvellous life. The 
 bees understood Mr. Phcebus, at least he said so, and thus 
 his friends had considerable advantage in this lesson in 
 entomology. Lady Corisande and Lothair were in a dis- 
 tant corner of the garden, and she was explaining to him 
 her plans ; what she had done and what she meant to do. 
 
 ' I wish I had a garden like this at Muriel,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' You could easily make one.' 
 
 ' If you helped me.' 
 
 ' I have told you all my plans,' said Lady Corisande. 
 
 ' Yes ; but I was thinking of something else when you 
 spoke,' said Lothair.
 
 LOTHAIR. 433 
 
 'That is not very complimentary.' 
 
 ' I do not wish to be complimentary,' said Lothair, ' if 
 compliments mean less than they declare. I was not 
 thinking of your garden, but of you.' 
 
 ' Where can they have all gone ? ' said Lady Corisande, 
 looking round. 'We must find them.' 
 
 'And leave this garden ? ' said Lothair. ' And I without 
 a flower, the only one without a flower ? I am afraid that 
 is significant of my lot.' 
 
 ' You shall choose a rose,' said Lady Corisande. 
 ' Nay ; the charm is that it should be your choice.' 
 But choosing the rose lost more time, and when Cori. 
 sande and Lothair reached the arches of golden yew, there 
 were no friends in sight. 
 
 ' I think I hear sounds this way,' said Lothair, and he 
 led his companion farther from home. 
 
 ' I see no one,' said Lady Corisande, distressed, and when 
 they had advanced a little way. 
 
 ' We are sure to find them in good time,' said Lothair. 
 'Besides, I wanted to speak to you about the garden at 
 Muriel. I wanted to induce you to go there and help me 
 to make it. Yes,' he added, after some hesitation, ' on this 
 spot, I believe on this very spot, I asked the permission of 
 your mother two years ago to express to you my love. She 
 thought me a boy, and she treated me as a boy. She said 
 I knew nothing of the world, and both our characters were 
 unformed. I know the world now. I have committed 
 many mistakes, doubtless many follies, have formed many 
 opinions, and have changed many opinions ; but to one I 
 have been constant, in one I am unchanged, and that is my 
 adoring love for you.' 
 
 She turned pale, she stopped, then gently taking Ins 
 arm, she hid her face in his breast. 
 
 lie soothed and sustained her agitated frame, and sealed 
 with an embrace her speechless form. Then, with soft
 
 484 LOTHAIK. 
 
 thoughts and softer words, clinging to him he induced her 
 to resume their stroll, which both of them now wished 
 might assuredly be undisturbed. They had arrived at the 
 limit of the pleasure-grounds, and they wandered into the 
 park and into its most sequestered parts. All this time 
 Lotliair spoke much, and gave her the history of his life 
 since he first visited her home. Lady Corisande said little, 
 but when she was more composed, she told him that from 
 the first her heart had been his, but everything seemed 
 to go against her hopes. Perhaps at last, to please her 
 parents, she would have married the Duke of Brecon, had 
 not Lothair returned ; and what he had said to her that 
 morning at Crecy House had decided her resolution, what- 
 ever might be her lot, to unite it to no one else but him. 
 But then came the adventure of the crucifix, and she 
 thought all was over for her, and she quitted town in 
 despair. 
 
 ' Let us rest here for a while,' said Lothair, ' under the 
 shade of this oak ;' and Lady Corisande reclined against its 
 mighty trunk, and Lothair threw himself at her feet. He 
 had a great deal still to tell her, and among other things, 
 the story of the pearls, which he had wished to give to 
 Theodora. 
 
 ' She was, after all, your good genius,' said Lady 
 Corisande. ' 1 always liked her.' 
 
 'Well now,' said Lothair, 'that case has never been 
 opened. The year has elapsed, but I would not open it, 
 for I had always a wild wish that the person who opened 
 it should be yourself. See, here it is.' And he gave her 
 the case. 
 
 'We will not break the seal,' said Lady Corisande. 
 ' Let us respect it for her sake : ROMA ! ' she said, ex- 
 amining it ; and then they opened the case. There was 
 the slip of paper which Theodora at the time had placed
 
 LOTHAIE. 485 
 
 upon the pearls, and on which she had written some unseen 
 words. They were read now, and ran thus : 
 
 'THE OFFERING OF THEODORA TO LOTHAIR'S BRIDE.' 
 
 ' Let me place them on you now,' said Lothair. 
 
 ' I will wear them as your chains,' said Corisande. 
 
 The sun began to tell them that some hours had elapsed 
 since they quitted Brentham House. At last a soft hand 
 which Lothair retained, gave him a slight pressure, and a 
 sweet voice whispered, ' Dearest, I think we ought to 
 return.' 
 
 And they returned almost in silence. They rather cal- 
 culated that, taking advantage of the luncheon-hour, Cori- 
 sande might escape to her room ; but they were a little too 
 late. Luncheon was over, and they met the Duchess and 
 a large party on the terrace. 
 
 ' What has "become of you, my good people ? ' said her 
 Grace ; ' bells have been ringing for you in every direction. 
 Where can you have been ! ' 
 
 ' I have been in Corisande's garden,' said Lothair, ' and 
 she has given me a rose.' 
 
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