ence or fraud. Mr. Spencer
changed both the Christian and the surname of his protege, in order to
elude the search whether of Philip, the Mortons, or the Beauforts, and
Sidney passed for his nephew by a younger brother who had died in India.

So there, by the calm banks of the placid lake, amidst the fairest
landscapes of the Island Garden, the youngest born of Catherine passed
his tranquil days. The monotony of the retreat did not fatigue a spirit
which, as he grew up, found occupation in books, music, poetry, and the
elegances of the cultivated, if quiet, life within his reach. To the
rough past he looked back as to an evil dream, in which the image of
Philip stood dark and threatening. His brother's name as he grew older
he rarely mentioned; and if he did volunteer it to Mr. Spencer, the
bloom on his cheek grew paler. The sweetness of his manners, his fair
face and winning smile, still continued to secure him love, and to
screen from the common eye whatever of selfishness yet lurked in his
nature. And, indeed, that fault in so serene a career, and with friends
so attached, was seldom called into action. So thus was he severed
from both the protectors, Arthur and Philip, to whom poor Catherine had
bequeathed him.

By a perverse and strange mystery, they, to whom the charge was most
intrusted were the very persons who were forbidden to redeem it. On
our death-beds when we think we have provided for those we leave
behind--should we lose the last smile that gilds the solemn agony, if we
could look one year into the Future?

Arthur Beaufort, after an ineffectual search for Sidney, heard, on
returning to his home, no unexaggerated narrative of Philip's visit, and
listened, with deep resentment, to his mother's distorted account of the
language addressed to her. It is not to be surprised that, with all
his romantic generosity, he felt sickened and revolted at violence that
seemed to him without excuse. Though not a revengeful character, he had
not that meekness which never resents. He looked upon Philip Morton as
upon one rendered incorrigible by bad passions and evil company.
Still Catherine's last request, and Philip's note to him, the Unknown
Comforter, often recurred to him, and he would have willingly yet aided
him had Philip been thrown in his way. But as it was, when he looked
around, and saw the examples of that charity that begins at home,
in which the world abounds, he felt as if he had done his duty; and
prosp