seer so
severe. Faustus, when he signed the bond with blood, did not secure a
doom more terrific. But when we are young we must enjoy ourselves. True;
and there are few things more gloomy than the recollection of a youth
that has not been enjoyed. What prosperity of manhood, what splendour
of old age, can compensate for it? Wealth is power; and in youth, of all
seasons of life, we require power, because we can enjoy everything that
we can command. What, then, is to be done? I leave the question to
the schoolmen, because I am convinced that to moralise with the
inexperienced availeth nothing.

The conduct of men depends upon their temperament, not upon a bunch of
musty maxims. No one had been educated with more care than Ferdinand
Armine; in no heart had stricter precepts of moral conduct ever been
instilled. But he was lively and impetuous, with a fiery imagination,
violent passions, and a daring soul. Sanguine he was as the day; he
could not believe in the night of sorrow, and the impenetrable gloom
that attends a career that has failed. The world was all before him; and
he dashed at it like a young charger in his first strife, confident that
he must rush to victory, and never dreaming of death.

Thus would I attempt to account for the extreme imprudence of his
conduct on his return from England. He was confident in his future
fortunes; he was excited by the applause of the men, and the admiration
of the women; he determined to gratify, even to satiety, his restless
vanity; he broke into profuse expenditure; he purchased a yacht; he
engaged a villa; his racing-horses and his servants exceeded all other
establishments, except the Governor's, in breeding, in splendour, and in
number. Occasionally wearied with the monotony of Malta, he obtained a
short leave of absence, and passed a few weeks at Naples, Palermo, and
Rome, where he glittered in brilliant circles, and whence he returned
laden with choice specimens of art and luxury, and followed by the
report of strange and flattering adventures. Finally, he was the prime
patron of the Maltese opera, and brought over a celebrated Prima Donna
from San Carlo in his own vessel.

In the midst of his career, Ferdinand received intelligence of the death
of Lord Grandison. Fortunately, when he received it he was alone; there
was no one, therefore, to witness his blank dismay when he discovered
that, after all, he was not his grandfather's heir! After a vast number
of trifling l