munities of men; and hope
and fear, the yearnings of ambition, and the gloomy forebodings of
despair, sat beside the pillows of those who, in vain, sought sleep and
forgetfulness.

Before that long night ended, Sir Stafford had learned his ruin, for it
was little less. Kate had yielded, to the pressing entreaties of Lady
Hester, her consent to accept Midchekoff; and, just as day was breaking,
George Onslow stole to his father's bedside to see him once more,
perhaps for the last time. It would be difficult to say in which of
those three hearts the darkest sorrow brooded. With noiseless step and
cautious gesture, George crossed the little sitting-room, and entered
his father's chamber; and, without awaking the servant, who kept watch
habitually without, but now had dropped off to sleep, he gained the
bedside, and sat down.

The terrible tidings he had just heard were evidently working on Sir
Stafford's brain, and, despite all the influence of his opiate, still
engaged his faculties; for his lips continued to move rapidly, and short
broken sentences fell from him incessantly. "Poor George! poor George!"
he muttered from time to time, and the tears rolled down the young man's
cheek as he heard them.

"How unworthy of him have I been!" thought he; "how shamefully unworthy
and forgetful! Here should have been my place, for those hours which
I have spent in noisy dissipation and debauch; and now I come for the
first time, and probably the last! Oh, my poor father! How will you bear
up against the shock that is preparing for you? for, with all my faults,
I know how you have loved me!" A heavy tear dropped from him on the old
man's cheek as he said this; and gently brushing it off with his hand,
Sir Stafford opened his eyes and awoke. A mild and gentle smile broke
over his features as he saw his son beside him, and he drew him towards
him, and kissed him.

"Have you been long here, George?" said he, affectionately.

"But a few minutes. I am so sorry to have disturbed you," muttered the
other, in confusion,

"Have you seen Grounsell yet? Has he told you?" asked Sir Stafford.

"Grounsell? no, sir. I did not even hear of his arrival. What are his
tidings?"

"The saddest, perhaps, one friend can bring another," sighed Onslow,
as he covered his eyes with his hand. "Nay, nay, I am wrong," said he,
rapidly. "So long as Sydney and yourself are spared to me I have no
right to say this; still, George, it is a terrible blow that