ssor and
grandsire of the present lord); and the marquess had, as he thought,
amply provided for George in undertaking to secure to him, when of
fitting age, the living of Humberston, the most lucrative preferment
in his gift. The living had been held for the last fifteen years by an
incumbent, now very old, upon the honourable understanding that it was
to be resigned in favour of George, should George take orders. The young
man, from his earliest childhood thus destined to the Church, devoted to
the prospect of that profession all his studies, all his thoughts. Not
till he was sixteen did his infirmity of speech make itself seriously
perceptible: and then elocution masters undertook to cure it; they
failed. But George's mind continued in the direction towards which it
had been so systematically biased. Entering Oxford, he became absorbed
in its academical shades. Amidst his books he almost forgot the
impediment of his speech. Shy, taciturn, and solitary, he mixed too
little with others to have it much brought before his own notice. He
carried off prizes; he took high honours. On leaving the University,
a profound theologian, an enthusiastic Churchman, filled with the
most earnest sense of the pastor's solemn calling,--he was thus
complimentarily accosted by the Archimandrite of his college, "What a
pity you cannot go into the Church!"

"Cannot; but I am going into the Church."

"You! is it possible? But, perhaps, you are sure of a living--"

"Yes,--Humberston."

"An immense living, but a very large population. Certainly it is in the
bishop's own discretionary power to ordain you, and for all the duties
you can keep a curate." But the Don stopped short, and took snuff.

That "but" said as plainly as words could say, "It may be a good thing
for you; but is it fair for the Church?"

So George Morley at least thought that "but" implied.

His conscience took alarm. He was a thoroughly noble-hearted man, likely
to be the more tender of conscience where tempted by worldly interests.
With that living he was rich, without it very poor. But to give up a
calling, to the idea of which he had attached himself with all the force
of a powerful and zealous nature, was to give up the whole scheme and
dream of his existence. He remained irresolute for some time; at last he
wrote to the present Lord Montfort, intimating his doubts, and relieving
the Marquess from the engagement which his lordship's predecessor had
made. The prese