tious, he, the beloved and heroic Adrian, made, in
sweet simplicity, an offer to sacrifice himself for the public good. The
very idea was generous and noble,--but, beyond this, his unpretending
manner, his entire want of the assumption of a virtue, rendered his act ten
times more touching. I would have withstood his request; but I had seen the
good he diffused; I felt that his resolves were not to be shaken, so, with
an heavy heart, I consented to do as he asked. He grasped my hand
affectionately:--"Thank you," he said, "you have relieved me from a
painful dilemma, and are, as you ever were, the best of my friends.
Farewell--I must now leave you for a few hours. Go you and converse with
Ryland. Although he deserts his post in London, he may be of the greatest
service in the north of England, by receiving and assisting travellers, and
contributing to supply the metropolis with food. Awaken him, I entreat you,
to some sense of duty."

Adrian left me, as I afterwards learnt, upon his daily task of visiting the
hospitals, and inspecting the crowded parts of London. I found Ryland much
altered, even from what he had been when he visited Windsor. Perpetual fear
had jaundiced his complexion, and shrivelled his whole person. I told him
of the business of the evening, and a smile relaxed the contracted muscles.
He desired to go; each day he expected to be infected by pestilence, each
day he was unable to resist the gentle violence of Adrian's detention. The
moment Adrian should be legally elected his deputy, he would escape to
safety. Under this impression he listened to all I said; and, elevated
almost to joy by the near prospect of his departure, he entered into a
discussion concerning the plans he should adopt in his own county,
forgetting, for the moment, his cherished resolution of shutting himself up
from all communication in the mansion and grounds of his estate.

In the evening, Adrian and I proceeded to Westminster. As we went he
reminded me of what I was to say and do, yet, strange to say, I entered the
chamber without having once reflected on my purpose. Adrian remained in the
coffee-room, while I, in compliance with his desire, took my seat in St.
Stephen's. There reigned unusual silence in the chamber. I had not visited
it since Raymond's protectorate; a period conspicuous for a numerous
attendance of members, for the eloquence of the speakers, and the warmth of
the debate. The benches were very empty, those by custo