he ground--a fortune in the most inviting,
solid, and durable form, capable of being carried in an apron, beautiful
in itself, and scattering the sunlight in a million rainbow flashes.

"Good God!" said Harry, "I am lost!"

His mind racked backwards into the past with the incalculable velocity
of thought, and he began to comprehend his day's adventures, to conceive
them as a whole, and to recognise the sad imbroglio in which his own
character and fortunes had become involved. He looked round him as if
for help, but he was alone in the garden, with his scattered diamonds
and his redoubtable interlocutor; and when he gave ear, there was no
sound but the rustle of the leaves and the hurried pulsation of his
heart. It was little wonder if the young man felt himself deserted by
his spirits, and with a broken voice repeated his last ejaculation--

"I am lost!"

The gardener peered in all directions with an air of guilt; but there
was no face at any of the windows, and he seemed to breathe again.

"Pick up a heart," he said, "you fool! The worst of it is done. Why
could you not say at first there was enough for two? Two?" he repeated,
"ay, and for two hundred! But come away from here, where we may be
observed; and, for the love of wisdom, straighten out your hat and brush
your clothes. You could not travel two steps the figure of fun you look
just now."

While Harry mechanically adopted these suggestions, the gardener,
getting upon his knees, hastily drew together the scattered jewels and
returned them to the bandbox. The touch of these costly crystals sent a
shiver of emotion through the man's stalwart frame; his face was
transfigured, and his eyes shone with concupiscence; indeed, it seemed
as if he luxuriously prolonged his occupation, and dallied with every
diamond that he handled. At last, however, it was done; and concealing
the bandbox in his smock, the gardener beckoned to Harry and preceded
him in the direction of the house.

Near the door they were met by a young man, evidently in holy orders,
dark and strikingly handsome, with a look of mingled weakness and
resolution, and very neatly attired after the manner of his caste. The
gardener was plainly annoyed by this encounter; but he put as good a
face upon it as he could, and accosted the clergyman with an obsequious
and smiling air.

"Here is a fine afternoon, Mr. Rolles," said he: "a fine afternoon, as
sure as God made it! And here is a young friend of mine