consultations until
she recovered. Had she died, Sir Thomas Gourlay would not have shed one
tear, but he would have had all the pomp and ceremony due to her station
in life solemnly paraded at her funeral, and it is very likely that one
or other of our eminent countrymen, Hogan or M'Dowall, had they then
existed, would have been engaged to erect her a monument.

And yet the feeling which he experienced, and which regulated his life,
was, after all, but a poor pitiful parody upon true ambition. The latter
is a great and glorious principle, because, where it exists, it never
fails to expand the heart, and to prompt it to the performance of all
those actions that elevate our condition and dignify our nature. Had he
experienced anything like such a feeling as this, or even the beautiful
instincts of parental affection, he would not have neglected, as he
did, the inculcation of all those virtues and principles which render
education valuable, and prevent it from degenerating into an empty
parade of mere accomplishments.

It is true, Sir Thomas Gourlay enjoyed the reputation of being an
admirable father, and, indeed, from mere worldly principle he was so,
and we presume gave himself credit for being so. In the mean time, our
readers are to learn that earth scarcely contained a man who possessed
a greedier or more rapacious spirit; and, if ever the demon of envy,
especially with respect to the possession of wealth and property,
tortured the soul of a human being, it did that of our baronet. His
whole spirit, in fact, was dark, mean, and intensely selfish; and for
this reason, it was a fearful thing for any one to stand in his way when
in the execution of his sordid projects, much less to attempt his
defeat in their attainment. Reckless and unscrupulous, he left no means
unattempted, however odious and wicked, to crush those who offended him,
or such as stood in the way of his love of wealth and ambition.

For some minutes after the perusal of the anonymous letter, one would
have imagined that the image which met his gaze, from time to time, in
the looking-glass, was that of his worst and deadliest enemy, so fierce
and menacing were the glances which he cast on it as he paced the floor.
At length he took up the document, and, having read it again, exclaimed:

"Perhaps, after all, I'm angry to no purpose; certainly to no purpose,
in one sense, I am, inasmuch as I know not who this anonymous person
is. But stay, let me be caut