did. It was a habit into which
he had unconsciously fallen. He had persuaded himself to think that
the great posterity for which he laboured so hard could hear him, and
in his isolation the reflection was a great consolation to him.

"Ha, ha," he muttered, "thou hast had thy little day, Sir George
Vernon. 'King of the Peak,' indeed--thy reign is o'er. And Margaret,
proud Margaret, and the haughty Lady Maude, aha! You shall all tremble
at my name."

"Hist, move thee not," whispered Sir Ronald, "he is, about to test his
engine again; it blows off sparks of fire as if it were the smithy's
forge, but without the noise. I have seen him perform with it often.
Hark."

Edmund had brought out his engine from a deep recess in the wall, and
a rough, unsightly piece of mechanism it was. It was intended to be
square, but constant testings and trials had caused it to assume more
the appearance of an octagon, and as the sides had thus bulged out,
the bands which had held the instrument together became loosened and
untrustworthy.

Edmund surveyed it affectionately. It was the offspring of his genius,
and he blindly disregarded all its little imperfections amid the great
love he bore towards it.

"Aha," he murmured, "thou art done, thou art ready now. Thou art an
angel of death, and thou"--turning to his elixir--"thou art an angel
of life."

"Mix them up, Nathan, mix them up," gaily exclaimed Manners as he
stepped into the room. "We will give the Vernons a dose."

Edmund was startled, and he hastily retreated to his engine to protect
it.

"Avaunt!" he cried, "touch it not."

"Nay, I want not to injure it," returned the other, whose smile
contrasted with the alchemyst's scowl. "Shake hands, man; I will do
thee no harm."

"Beware," cried Edmund, distrustfully, as he covered over the angel.
"Beware!"

"Edmund, thou speakest over rashly," interposed Sir Ronald. "Master
Manners would honour thee, and thou treatest him so lightly. Together
you may accomplish your designs and work whatever you will; the
past--"

"Is buried with its forefathers and forgotten," quickly exclaimed
Manners. "Come, I greet thee on equal terms. I would be thy friend."

Edmund shook the proffered hand as though it were a bar of red-hot
iron he had been commanded to hold, or a phial of his precious elixir
he was carrying, and he felt by no means flattered at the reference
to their equality, just as if he, too, had discovered such mighty
secrets.