Year: 1871

spoilt by every kind Of injudioious in.
duIyence.' His faults had been left to
grow as they, would, unchecked. .. Nay,
in many instances they had been even
encouraged. So that it was no wonder
il the spoilt and pompered child grew
up the selfish, vicious, unrestrained
man, who knew no higher law than his
own qualification, no higher pleasure
than personal indulgence. Love for
this son had been one of Mr.. Trevel.
yan's strongest--or weak est-points, as
one night judge. Through good report
end evil report, in spite Of knowing that
his race was dishonoured, and is name
dobased by his evil life, the old man
stood staunch and loving. Even when
be married that wretched woman, met
With Heaven knows how or where. but
not as Magdalen's sister should have
been ;even when he sent down that vil-
lainous Jew to tell of his arrest for
dlshonoured bill, and to demand rather
than request, enough money to pay off
this score, and set him going again
even then, the old man only turned
pale and looked sad, but he loved
his darling boy none the less. I,
was his pride, his willful point of
obstinate belief and groundless hope,
and he would not be driven from it.
He was his first born Graded III his
arms while the halo of romance yet
shown bright above his marriage life,
and the golden cloud Of hope tinged
the dim form of his future. And Mr..
Trevelyau was rot man Of passing
impressions. Affection once marked
on that granite soul Of his must be
struck out violently, if struck out at all =;
for either time nor the friction of small
cares and petty annoyance co I'D destroy
it; aad even Andrews worse faults had
not as yet destroyed the sharpness OF a
letter.


! Andrew lived on his professions of
affection. If he sent down shameless
confession O. evil passages in his evil
life, he coupled this confession with
such warm assurances OF attachment,
that the old mans heart fail him for
The stern place Of judge, and he became
the advocate Instead. How could he
not forgive one he loved 50 we'll, and
who loved him 50 faithfully? And
what great hope was there not yet of
ultimate reformation when that sacred
ilial love continued so uuchilled !
Afer all it was but youths folly that
the boy was ever guilty Of, His heart
was in its right place and all else would
right in time. Andrew we'll knew
what the old man would think
when he wrote thcso loving
dutitul letters. He used to call them
his exchequcr-bills, and tell his wife
what each was worth. For he never
wrote unless he wanted money; which,
however, was always sure Of something
as the reward for his trouble, So
things had gone on for the last half
dozen years; Andrew passing from bad
to worse with startling rapidity, until
even the very swindlers and scoundrels
with whom be associated grew somc-
what shv of him.


| One day a letter arrived to Mr..
Treve]yan, from London. It was a
curious letter, containing minute IN
quiries concerning his health and hab-
its, which he was prayed to answer by
return Of post. He did answer, but
not on the points required; and a cor
respondence ensued, which at last led to
the information that Andrew had been
raising money on postobits. and that he
was specializing deeply on the probable
chances of his fathers death within the
next two years. This was perhaps the
only thing that could have stirred Mr..
Trevelyan, and this struck at the very
root Of his love by destroying his trust
Everything else be could forgive, and
had forgiveo, but this and this was the
blow that struck out that craven word
which nothing else had injured, and
left void and a ruin instead.


Magdalen knew nothing of what had
happened. She was terrified to see how
pale her father was, while reading a
certain letter in strange hand, the
contents of which she did not know
and how he suddenly dropped, as il
struck by some fatal disease. She asked
himT anything had happened to vex
him, but all he answered was, "No,
child, nothing that you can cure" "
looking sadly on the ground as he
spoke. He folded up the letter care
fully, and, in his precise manner, put it
away among other papers in his drawer ;
aud the matter seemed to be forgotl len,
or to have passed like any other small
disturbance. But Magdalen understood
him too we'll not to see that there was
painful secret somewhere, on that moth.
ing of her love could touch, nor his own
philosophy cure. More than once she
approached the subject gently, for she
knew that is was somehow come cted
with her brother; but he never an
swered her questions, and at last got
angry with her if she mentioned .Au-
dre~'s name: It was very painful for