"It is downright splenetic," observed Lady Eleanor. "I dare say, with so right minded a man, seclusion cannot have had the effect of reducing him to mere negative virtue. If it has, what will become of your own ?"

"The difference between us," answered Harclai, "is plain. Mr. Flowerdale has made himself a monk; while I, though seemingly out of the world, am perpetually in it. I know what is passing; he only what has passed. I, the tricks of mankind, he the gambols of a kid. Would such a man, think you, venture on the hustings at a contested election ?"

"Were there honourable cause for it, I have no doubt he would," replied De Vere; "but I know not why you ask."

"I am satisfied," said Harclai, and became suddenly and mysteriously silent.

Lady Eleanor retiring, the busy-minded humourist immediately resumed, by asking De Vere if he had revealed any part of his own history to his new acquaintance; and in particular, the machinations practised against him at the borough.

"Hardly," answered De Vere.

"And he descends from the old Okeovers ?" said Harclai.

De Vere assented.

66

Why then he shall soon see me," observed Harclai.

Accustomed as he was to sudden resolutions, as humour, or feeling (particularly if an indignant one) prompted on the part of his old friend, De Vere scarcely noticed this intimation, and Lady Eleanor shortly afterwards sending for them to coffee, the gentlemen left the eatingroom to join her.

On the landing-place of the great stairs, however, hung an ancient map of this unfortunate borough of Wellsbury, which De Vere would have passed in a sort of disgust; but Harclai stopt him to point out the names of the different proprietors of the lands within it, and, among other divisions, a pretty considerable one, entitled, "This is Mr. Okeover's land."

"And what then?" said De Vere. "Great part of that land is now mine, with the tenements upon it, and the rest has been recently sold to Lord Cleveland."

"That I did not know," replied Harclai, with a disappointed air, and his eyelids, as they always did, when he meditated any thing very seriously, twinkled in great agitation.

The evening passed off with Lady Eleanor

in placid quietness, and in an enjoyment between mother and son, which neither of them had a long time known. The next day saw De Vere on his return to London; but not before he had stopped his horse at Lord Oxford's column, as it was called, before the gates of the moat, and contemplated with peculiar, perhaps with melancholy attention, the inscription we formerly commemorated.* In particular, the device of the decayed old oak, shooting out fresh branches with the expressive motto of " Insperata floruit," filled him with reflections partaking of sadness. "The dreams," said he, "which this device has sometimes inspired, are idle, and ought not to be remembered;" and he pushed on in silence to Litchfield.

* Vol. 1. p. 24.

CHAPTER IX.

THE SCRUPLES OF A MAN OF THE WORLD.

Faith, some certain dregs of conscience are still within me.

SHAKSPEARE.

He has received a thousand ducats from Don John, for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully.

SHAKSPEARE.

MEANTIME the events which led to De Vere's absence, were almost forgotten in London. The death of Beaufort was no longer talked of, and the temporary secession and illness of Mr. Wentworth, though always a subject of inquiry, gave time to the ministry to breathe. It, in truth, made them feel comfortably easy.

As for De Vere, he seemed blotted out of all consideration, and almost out of memory; or if spoken of at all, it was as one who would never again appear upon the scene.

But this sort of interregnum, gave great scope for Mr. Clayton's powers to shew themselves. Being the now known and admitted adviser of

Mowbray, whatever consequence that nobleman possessed seemed entirely transferred to him; so that Lord Cleveland, and sometimes even Lord Oldcastle, betook themselves to him, whenever occasion required any service from his patron.

This was, in fact, the precise state for which Mr. Clayton was by nature fitted. Undistinguished by any inconvenient superiority of talent; of little mind, and of most obsequious docility; a worshipper of title, and a dexterous conveyer of messages; he was employed in matters of this nature to his heart's content. This made him more and more necessary, even among those who understood something of his character; (for few could penetrate the whole,) and it might be said, that many of them "could better spare a better man."

The consequence was, that Mr. Clayton became a person of real importance in the world. He was trusted, or thought to be so, and this occasioned a court to him which dazzled more eyes nan those of his equals, over whom he now lorded it with a sway to which he expected every one to submit. In this, for the most part, he was obeyed; while those who resisted his sway were, either by open violence or secret machination, sure to be ruined.