said Ferdinand.

'Very great,' said Mr. Bond Sharpe. 'There is only one thing greater,
and that is, to keep it when made.'

Ferdinand smiled.

'Many men make fortunes; few can keep them,' said Mr. Bond Sharpe.
'Money is power, and rare are the heads that can withstand the
possession of great power.'

'At any rate, it is to be hoped that you have discovered this more
important secret,' said Ferdinand; 'though I confess to judge from my
own experience, I should fear that you are too generous.'

'I had forgotten that to which you allude,' said his companion, quietly.
'But with regard to myself, whatever may be my end, I have not yet
reached my acme.'

'You have at least my good wishes,' said Ferdinand.

'I may some day claim them,' said Mr. Bond Sharpe. 'My position,' he
continued, 'is difficult. I have risen by pursuits which the world does
not consider reputable, yet if I had not had recourse to them, I should
be less than nothing. My mind, I think, is equal to my fortune; I am
still young, and I would now avail myself of my power and establish
myself in the land, a recognised member of society. But this cannot
be. Society shrinks from an obscure foundling, a prizefighter, a leg, a
hell-keeper, and an usurer. Debarred therefore from a fair theatre for
my energy and capital, I am forced to occupy, perhaps exhaust, myself in
multiplied speculations. Hitherto they have flourished, and perhaps my
theatre, or my newspaper, may be as profitable as my stud. But I
would gladly emancipate myself. These efforts seem to me, as it were,
unnecessary and unnatural. The great object has been gained. It is a
tempting of fate. I have sometimes thought myself the Napoleon of the
sporting world; I may yet find my St. Helena.' 'Forewarned, forearmed,
Mr. Sharpe.' 'I move in a magic circle: it is difficult to extricate
myself from it. Now, for instance, there is not a man in the room who is
not my slave. You see how they treat me. They place me upon an equality
with them. They know my weakness; they fool me to the top of my
bent. And yet there is not a man in that room who, if I were to break
to-morrow, would walk down St. James'-street to serve me. Yes! there
is one; there is the Count. He has a great and generous soul. I believe
Count Mirabel sympathises with my situation. I believe he does not
think, because a man has risen from an origin the most ignoble and
obscure to a powerful position, by great courage and dexterity, and
let