idst the cloistered
monotony of college! My love for my father, and my submission to his
wish, had indeed given some animation to objects otherwise distasteful;
but now that my return to the University must be attended with positive
privation to those at home, the idea became utterly hateful and
repugnant. Under pretence that I found myself, on trial, not yet
sufficiently prepared to do credit to my father's name, I had easily
obtained leave to lose the ensuing college term and pursue my studies
at home. This gave me time to prepare my plans and bring round ----. How
shall I ever bring round to my adventurous views those whom I propose
to desert? Hard it is to get on in the world,--very hard; but the most
painful step in the way is that which starts from the threshold of a
beloved home.

How--ah, how indeed! "No, Blanche, you cannot join me to-day; I am going
out for many hours. So it will be late before I can be home."

Home,--the word chokes me! Juba slinks back to his young mistress,
disconsolate; Blanche gazes at me ruefully from our favorite hill-top,
and the flowers she has been gathering fall unheeded from her basket.
I hear my mother's voice singing low as she sits at work by her open
casement. How,--ah, how indeed!

[END OF PRINT VOL 1.]

PART XIII.

CHAPTER I.

Saint Chrysostom, in his work on "The Priesthood," defends deceit, if
for a good purpose, by many Scriptural examples; ends his first book by
asserting that it is often necessary, and that much benefit may arise
from it; and begins his second book by saying that it ought not to be
called "deceit," but "good management." (1)

"Good management," then, let me call the innocent arts by which I
now sought to insinuate my project into favor and assent with my
unsuspecting family. At first I began with Roland. I easily induced him
to read some of the books, full of the charm of Australian life, which
Trevanion had sent me; and so happily did those descriptions suit his
own erratic tastes, and the free, half-savage man that lay rough and
large within that soldierly nature, that he himself, as it were, seemed
to suggest my own ardent desire, sighed, as the careworn Trevanion had
done, that "he was not my age," and blew the flame that consumed me,
with his own willing breath. So that when at last--wandering one day
over the wild moors--I said, knowing his hatred of law and lawyers:
"Alas, uncle, that nothing should be left for me but the Ba