don had an elder brother, on whom both his father and mother doated; and this was the only point of sympathy between them. The three daughters paid great court to their elder halfbrother; and as, unfortunately, the first-born hated Charles, the ladies hated him too, and exposed him perpetually to all kinds of annoyances. He, on his part, naturally high, cold, and proud, had done nothing to conciliate his relatives; and after being kept at home on account of his father's inability to increase his expenditure, till the ripe age of twenty, he was turned adrift without one smile to beckon his thoughts and affections homewards. Weary of contentions, of splendid poverty-for the rich wife doled out only a slender allowance to her husband-and weary of himself, he left home without a regret, though expecting no pleasure elsewhere. He had longed to be at College before; he mourned over his lost years; and though he had been a diligent self-instructor, he felt ashamed to begin a University career at an age when it should have been drawing near its close. His pride and his temper were alike wounded; and his only resolve, his fierce determination, was to bind his thoughts to his studies, to master them, to choose his profession, and to be independent of those he hated. In such a mood was he brought into contact with Helen and her father, whose affection he viewed cynically, as a pretence and a cheat; as hypocrisy pleasing to the inexperienced, but to him hateful. Helen he regarded with mistrust, as indeed he regarded all women; her simplicity was artful cunning, her beauty a pitfall, her attention to her father a stratagem to attract observation to herself. Such were the thoughts that wildly danced through his brain, as with father and daughter he walked about the beautiful gardens. And he retired to his lonely rooms to compassionate while he despised himself, and to curse the hypocrisy of the rest of the world.

Dr. Linacre lay awake, mourning over his pupil's melancholy temper, and Helen fell asleep more than ever determined to reclaim him, whatever his faults and follies might have been. The light beamed from his window into the College quadrangle until the east was red, and a few hours uneasy sleep scarcely prepared him for the labours of the next day.

CHAP. IV.

Opportunity and want of employment had certainly been the causes of his follies; Dr. Linacre wrote with delight to Lord Evelyn that Mr. Brandon was the most regular student of his college.

How long good men cling to that sweet delusion of early friendship! Evelyn had grown up extravagant, selfish, and hard-hearted; while his friend had developed the contrary qualities, and still held Evelyn's image dear. They had not met for very many years, scarcely since their youth; Dr. Linacre's engagements prevented his taking recreation, but Lord Evelyn

could easily have visited his friend had he chosen. His heart, however, had grown cold and dry, and he cared no more for the man in whom his friendship had once rested than he would for a worn-out glove. He found it convenient to renew his acquaintance with the Doctor when he sent his son to College; and a fine flowing passage in his letter alluding to past times raised tears in Dr. Linacre's eyes, tears far too sacred for the occasion, and caused the tutor to resolve to use his utmost efforts in favour of the son. So soon as he discovered the young man's reproachless quiet life, he threw off all shyness of asking him to his house, and thus Helen was unavoidably thrown a great deal in his company. It was not very inviting company to be sure; Brandon and the Doctor generally absorbed themselves in some book, and Helen worked or drew. Good as she was, she was half disappointed to find there was nothing in him to reform, excepting indeed in those melancholy opinions of men and things to which his unhappy life at home had given rise.

The term ended, and Brandon sighed at the approach of the vacation: he hated the idea of returning home; and yet, home he must go. He had no money to spend in travelling, and his health was too much shaken by over-study to allow of his staying up, during the vacation, to read. It was a dreary night when he reached Evelyn Hall, where no preparation had been made for his arrival. There is perhaps no pleasure greater than to find one's self an expected guest, to be greeted by the warm pressure of the hand, the kiss upon the cheek, and the words of friendship and love.

There is nothing like tenderness to subdue the soul; ill-temper may hold out against insult, against affliction, against contradiction; but the heart that is proof against kindness is not human. Oh, the thrilling power of a few affectionate words! How they assail the citadel of a heart long closed against kindly emotion.

The members of the Evelyn family did not attempt to subdue the younger son in this way. He had written to tell his father he would be at home at a certain hour; but my Lord had quarrelled with my Lady, and the letter was crumpled up and thrown into the waste paper basket without a word of comment or notice; for Lady Evelyn had stopped the supplies, and my Lord held out sulkily, refusing to speak on any terms but his wife's submission. To do them justice, therefore, the women of the family were quite unaware of the intended visit from Charles; they were gone to a ball in the neighbourhood, and on this cold evening the young man found only fireless rooms, and no familiar face; for Lady Evelyn changed her servants, like the fashion of her bonnet, once a month. It was a sad dreary place to call "home;" he looked out in the cold moonlight, and thought mournfully of Oxford, of his books, of his reading-lamp. Unknown to him, at that very moment Helen's prayers were ascending for him, and Dr. Linacre was consulting his watch, and thinking, "Yes, now he is at home." An unutterable sadness

stole over him as he walked through the deserted rooms. Lord Evelyn was in London, had gone that very morning. Mr. Brandon, his eldest brother, had been abroad these six weeks; had not Mr. Charles heard it? No. He had not heard it, and he listened with a stupefied idea of melancholy, but nothing was distinct to him.

To describe the unutterable loneliness of an unloved creature is out of my power: Charles felt it like a great shadow on his soul, and being worn out with vexation, he ordered a fire in his room, and retired. The three ladies, his mother's daughters by her first marriage, viewed him as an interloper, who must have a share of their inheritance. Mr. Brandon was all very well; he inherited a large fortune from his paternal grandfather, and was lavish of his money in making them presents; for he loved homage, and no sultan was worshipped more than he; besides, he was a weak man, and very easily led. But Charles was unendurable; his proud lofty manners, his sarcastic speech, and above all his poverty, created a gulf between him and them. And his welcome home was an empty chamber and a fireless hearth.

CHAP. V.

The ladies were told by their maids of Charles's arrival, and his appearance at the breakfast table excited no remark. A cold "good morning" was his only greeting. A letter came from Mr. Brandon, which occupied all the conversation, and poor Charles felt himself utterly neglected. Indifferent as he pretended to be, their coldness and want of kindness struck him keenly. Inward wounds are the most dangerous: this younger son bled inwardly. He was as cynical and more sarcastic than ever, and was consequently more disliked than formerly. Lord Evelyn still held out obdurately, and lived bachelor-fashion in London. My Lady refused to yield, and the daughters took their mother's part. Mr. Brandon, with his usual politeness, wrote from Paris,-" Confound it, why couldn't they live comfortably and without quarrelling? But he must own the governor was a dreadful bore to go on so, but what's the use?"

Each dreary day seemed longer than the preceding, and Charles Brandon hailed with something like pleasure the last morning of the vacation. With softer emotions than he had felt for many years, he drew near Oxford. He entered his quiet rooms; reproachful dust had gathered on books, on chairs, on desk; but that was soon removed, and I almost think his stern dark eyes were tearful when the well-known weary step mounted his stair, and Dr. Linacre, seeing the open door, smiled with pleased surprise at his punctuality, and shook him warmly by the hand. "I was going on to the next staircase," said the tutor, not dreaming you would return to-day. I am glad indeed. And how is my good old friend, your father?"

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"Quite well," stammered Charles, who blushed

as he thought that he had not seen his father's face since he left Oxford.

"That is well," said the kindly tutor: "and now come home and dine with me, will you? You will feel desolate here to-day after quitting the familiar faces of home."

Charles sighed, and listlessly put on his hat to accompany Dr. Linacre.

Helen did not see that her father was not alone, and she came out to meet him fondly. Charles hung back for a moment; he was touched at last; the coldness of Evelyn Hall in contrast with this happy home struck him forcibly; and when he shook hands with the gentle unsophisticated girl, he saw with rising rapture the keen blush that dyed her cheek. At dinner he spoke with delight of resuming his studies, Helen added to his pleasure by telling him her father had missed his society, and he went to his chambers in a happier mood than he had known for some time.

"If human love be deception," thought he, "it is pleasant to be deceived."

This was the first step towards improvement. He was an eager student; and the doctor, knowing the impatience of his pupil, did his utmost to forward the young man's progress. The kindly old man felt again all the ardour of his own youth revive, and sat up many an hour beyond his wont to help such a promising candidate for University honours. Charles could not but see that the doctor sacrificed his personal ease and comfort to aid him, and he began to grow less misanthropical, and to doubt whether there were not really such a thing as human virtue.

Spring flew rapidly by; the summer drew on; it was commemoration-time, and most of the collegians were expecting some relatives or friends up for the occasion. Brandon heard anticipations of these meetings, and saw the preparations that were going on. "I alone have none to come and care for me," said he, as he walked sadly up and down the Broad Walk, which is so gay on Commemoration Sunday.

"Pardon me, sir," said a voice near him, which attracted his surprise as well as his attention; for he had thought himself alone. "Pardon me, sir, there are many similarly situated. I am one of them."

Charles looked at the speaker; his pale face and dark cloud-like black hair contrasted forcibly with his bright eyes, and a mouth almost childlike in its fresh ruddiness. I am sorry to find another where I thought I was the only unfortunate," was the reply; and with a proud inclination of the head, Brandon endeavoured to pass on.

But the stranger politely detained him. "I have long observed you, sir," said he," and should be happy to cultivate your acquaintance, if you have no objection.”

"I am not rich," was Brandon's reply to this overture.

The stranger's face flushed at this rude speech; but he said quickly, "I never supposed you were; rich men do not read so late as you do.

"I wonder whether you have the least idea of my thoughts, Helen?""

I am not a sibyl," said Helen; "but your thoughts are pleasant, I know; you look so good-tempered. You are on good terms with

the world at last."

"To be on good terms with you, Helen, is my chief desire; the happy scenes of this dear home, brightened by your presence, first changed my hateful philosophy. I dared not tell you this before I left Oxford, from various feelings which you understand, my love. I offer you a heart which has never reflected any image but yours. Speak to me, Helen! tell me, dearest, if you think you can be happy with me?"

"I am sure-quite sure," said Helen, drying her eyes, "that I cannot be otherwise with you; but papa-I can never leave papa."

"I will not ask you to leave him, my dear girl."

Her head was on his shoulder, and his lips on her cheek, when the good doctor, who was very near-sighted and a little deaf, drew near the rose-covered arbour where they sat (for Charles had not waited for term-time, so the roses still bloomed). Suddenly the lovers became conscious of his presence. The doctor was twenty-five again, and in love himself; he shed tears, he pressed their hands together, and crowned all his kindnesses by leaving them alone again.

It was not very long before Brandon took his degree and was married. He lived at Oxford until his father's death made him Lord Evelyn,

and then he took his wife and father-in-law to

live at Evelyn Hall. Little children are growing up in love and piety there. Dear grandpapa shares alike their studies, their prayers, and their play; and as the dowager and her daughters reside abroad, Evelyn Hall, once so desolate and miserable, is a sweet specimen of the happy homes of England.

The living of Evelyn fell in soon after the death of the old lord, and Charles bestowed it on his friend, Cyril Railton; who, with his sister, now occupies the parsonage-house. The hall-pew is well filled; now and then Dr. Linacre himself preaches, and although his delivery is weak and broken compared with Mr. Railton's distinct pronunciation, there are few dry eyes when, on a Christmas Day, the good old man brightens with his joyous subject, and describes vividly the choir of angels, the watching shepherds, the stable, and the Infant Saviour.

Cyril Railton and his sister are very happy; she is the best of good old maids, waiting on the sick poor, and thinking her brother the finest preacher in the world, and Dr. Linacre-at a long distance from Cyril-the next. She mends Cyril's stockings, writes out his sermons, keeps his garden in order, and looks after his pecuniary affairs, for Cyril never could understand the difference between three half-pence and three-pence; but Miss Railton is a good ac

countant.

There is no prettier sight in the world, on a summer-evening, than Lord and Lady Evelyn, with "dear grandpapa" and the children, all