nd went too quickly for the duller sense
of man's friendship to recognize it as the sound of sorrow.

In Darrell himself, thus insensibly altered, Lionel daily discovered
more to charm his interest and deepen his affection. In this man's
nature there were, indeed, such wondrous under-currents of sweetness,
so suddenly gushing forth, so suddenly vanishing again! And exquisite in
him were the traits of that sympathetic tact which the world calls
fine breeding, but which comes only from a heart at once chivalrous and
tender, the more bewitching in Darrell from their contrast with a manner
usually cold, and a bearing so stamped with masculine, self-willed,
haughty power. Thus--days went on as if Lionel had become a very child
of the house. But his sojourn was in truth drawing near to a close not
less abrupt and unexpected than the turn in his host's humours to which
he owed the delay of his departure.

One bright afternoon, as Darrell was standing at the window of his
private study, Fairthorn, who had crept in on some matter of business,
looked at his countenance long and wistfully, and then, shambling up to
his side, put one hand on his shoulder with a light timid touch, and,
pointing with the other to Lionel, who was lying on the grass in front
of the casement reading the "Faerie Queene," said, "Why do you take him
to your heart if he does not comfort it?"

Darrell winced and answered gently, "I did not know you were in the
room. Poor Fairthorn; thank you!"

"Thank me!--what for?"

"For a kind thought. So, then, you like the boy?"

"Mayn't I like him?" asked Fairthorn, looking rather frightened; "surely
you do!"

"Yes, I like him much; I am trying my best to love him. But,
but"--Darrell turned quickly, and the portrait of his father over
the mantelpiece came full upon his sight,--an impressive, a haunting
face,--sweet and gentle, yet with the high narrow brow and arched
nostril of pride, with restless melancholy eyes, and an expression
that revealed the delicacy of intellect, but not its power. There was
something forlorn, but imposing, in the whole effigy. As you continued
to look at the countenance, the mournful attraction grew upon you. Truly
a touching and a most lovable aspect. Darrell's eyes moistened.

"Yes, my father, it is so!" he said softly. "All my sacrifices were in
vain. The race is not to be rebuilt! No grandchild of yours will succeed
me,--me, the last of the old line! Fairthorn, how can I love th