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better fitted to call out various and possess her, however distant the day,
conflicting passions, than this one in is a thought that brings the brightness
which we find poor Reginald. Of these, of a blessed felicity over the black
bitter, and cutting, and gnawing re- realities of his most dismal hours.
morse, is one of the chief; and the un- Who she is he knows not. Over her
happy boy casts back many an agita- birth there is a mystery which his de-
ted thought to his beloved father's licate mind seeks not to penetrate;
study. The calm expression of that and that mystery, which seems always
bland countenance smites him worse to involve something sad, sorrowful,
than that of a Gorgon; and he curses and disastrous, bestows on the resign-
his very existence, when he thinks how ed and cheerful creature a more touch-
weakly and how basely he has been ing beauty, and renders her image the
betraying the sacred trust reposed in emblem of everything most pure, most
him of a parent's peace. Independent- submissive, most innocent, and it may
ly of the utter forgetfulness of all pro- perhaps soon be also most deserted and
per academical pursuits, and his par- tonely on the earth. That such a pas-
ticipation, now felt to be more shame- sion, of which a youth, in such a situa-
ful than it really could be, in follies tion, should be unrequited, is not in
for ever bordering on vice, he is day the order of novels or of nature; and,
after day getting deeper, and deeper, fair reader, learn from what follows
and deeper into debt, and the strength how true is their mutual love. The
and virtue of his soul seem dying with- scene of those impassioned vows is
in him, as he gradually knows himself Godstowe Abbey.
to be more and more dependent on

“ He found one of the gates unlocked, those tradesmen, whom, at the same

and stood within the wide circuit of time, he must confess to himself he

those grey and mouldering walls, that has injured. This feeling, so agonizing still marks the limits of the old nunnery. and unendurable in its paltry pain to The low moss-covered fruit-trees of the the honourable mind,-and his is an monastic orchard, flung soft and deep shahonourable mind,-makes him more dows upon the unshorn turf below : the and more helpless, hopeless, reckless, ivy hung in dark slumbering masses from disturbed, distracted, and diseased in , every ruinous fragment; the little rivuspirit. He is enveloped in a net, that let, which winds through the guarded has been slowly creeping up from feet precincts, shrunk far within its usual to forehead, and whose meshes he can- bound, trickled audibly from pebble to not break. A condition like this in pebble. Reginald followed its course to ordinary hands would have become re- the arch-way, beneath which it gushes volting in description ; but this author into the Isis-but there his steps were has saved his hero from degradation, arrested.--He heard it distinctly-it was and preserved our sympathies, by the but a single verse, and it wus sung very clear light which he has thrown on the lowly—but no voice, save that of Ellen circumstances that haveinsensibly thus Hesketh, could have poured out those reduced him, so that he appears as if soft and trembling tones. under a fate, while his fervid and ge

“ He listened for a few moments, but nerous spirit still exhibits itself in va

the voice was silent. He then advanced rious fine traits that redeem its great- again between the thick umbrageous est errors. His principles are still all trees, until he had come within sight of sound at the core ; and we feel that

the chapel itself, from which, it seemed Reginald may be ruined, but will not

to him, the sounds had proceeded. Again be dishonoured, and that, happen what they were heard again the same sweet

and melancholy strain echoed from withmay, he will ultimately, by some ex

in the damp arches, and shook the stillertion of his own, liberate himself from

ness of the desolate garden. Here, then, such jeopardy, and leave no poor man

she was, and it was to find her lie had his creditor, to the value of the tuft on

come thither; yet now a certain strange

mysterious fearfulness crept over all his Thus agitated, tempted, and tried, mind, and he durst not, could not, proReginald Dalton loves, with a more ceed. desperate passion, the beautiful Helen “ He lay down prostrate among the Hesketh. In her presence, all mean or long grass, which, so deep was the shade mighty miseries are laid at rest-com- above, yet retained the moisture of the fort and hope breathe from the face of last night's dew, and thence, gazing that dutiful and happy girl-and to wistfully upon the low door of the dis

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his cap.

mantled chapel, he drank the sorrowful melody timidly, breathlessly, in pain, and yet in luxury.

"Again it was silent-a thousand perplexing agonizing thoughts hovered around and above him-he could not toss them away from them-he could not forget them. They were there, and they were stronger than he, and he felt himself to be their slave and their prisoner. But their fetters, though within view, had not yet chained up all his spirit; the gloom overhung, but had not overwhelmed him; the pressure had not squeezed him with all its iron strength. No-the sense of misery, the keenest of all, had communicated its feverish and morbid quickness to that which it could not expel-Love, timorous, hopeless love, had caught a sort of infectious energy, and the long suppressed flame glowed with a stern and desperate stedfastness, amidst the darkness which had deepened around its altars. Next moment, however, that energy was half extinguished in dejection; the flame still burnt intenselybut lowly as of old.

"Alas!" he said to himself, I shall never hear her again-I am ruined, undone, utterly undone-blasted in the very opening-withered on the threshold! Humiliation, pain, misery, lie before me, as surely as folly, madness, phrenzy, wickedness, are behind-as surely as shame, burning, intolerable shame, is with me now. Yet one feeling at least is pure-here I have worshipped innocence in innocence. Alas! it is herehere, above all-that I am to suffer! Miserable creature that I am! She is feeble, yet I have no arm to protect her; she is friendless, yet the heart that is hers, and hers only, dare not even pour itself at her feet. She is alone in her purity; I alone in sinful, self-created helplessness! Love, phrenzy of phrenzies, dream of dreams! what have I to do with Love? Why do I haunt her footsteps? why do I pollute the air she breathes?-how dare I to mingle the groans of guilty despair with those tender sighs?-Beautiful, spotless angel!what have I to do in bringing my remorseful gloom into the home of your virtuous tears, your gentle sorrows!-How shall I dare to watch with you with you-beside the pillow of a good man's sickness?--Shame! shame!-let me flee from him, from you-from all but myself and my misery.'

"He had started from his wet lairhe stood with a cheek of scarlet, an eye darkly flashing, and a lip of stedfast whiteness, gazing on the ivied ruin, like

one who gazes his last. At that moment Ellen's sweet voice once more thrilled upon his ear. It seemed as if the melody was coming nearer-another moment, and she had stepped beyond the threshold. She advance towards a part of the wall which was much decayed, and stood quite near the speechless and motionless youth, looking down upon the calm waters of Isis gliding just below her, and singing all the while the same air he had first heard from her lips. -Alas! if it sounded sorrowfully then, how deep was now the sorrow breathed from that subdued and broken warbling of

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The Rhine! the Rhine! be blessings on the Rhine!'


She leaned herself over the low green wall, and Reginald heard a sob struggle against the melody. She grieves,' he said to himself she grieves, she weeps!' and with that, losing all mastery of himself, he rushed through the thicket.

"Ellen, hearing the rustling of leaves, and the tramp of a husty foot, turned towards the boy, who stopped short upon reaching the open turf. Her first alarm was gone, when she recognized him; and she said, a faint smile hovering on her lips, 'Mr Dalton, I confess I was half frightened-How and whence have you come?' Ere she had finished the sentence, however, her soft eye had instinctively retreated from the wild and distracted gaze of Reginald-she shrunk a step backward, and re-echoed her own question in a totally different tone- Mr Palton, how are you here?-whence have you come ?-You alarm me, Mr Dalton -your looks alarm me. Speak, why do you look so ?'

"Miss Hesketh,' he answered, striying to compose himself, there is nothing to alarm you-I have just come from Witham-Mr Keith told me you were here.'

"You are ill, Mr Dalton-you look exceedingly ill, indeed, sir. You should not have left Oxford to-day.' "I am to leave Oxford to-morrowI could not go without saying farewell.' "To-morrow!-But why do you look so solemn, Mr Dalton?-You are quitting college for your vacation?'

"Perhaps for ever, Miss Hesketh


"O Mr Dalton, you have seen my uncle-you think he is very badly, I see you do you think you shall never see him again, I know you think so!'


'No, 'tis not so; he has invited me to come back with you now; and besides, Mr Keith will get better-I hope, I trust, I am sure he will.'

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"He advanced close to her, (for hitherto he had not changed his position,) and leaned for a moment over the broken wall. His hasty hand had discomposed some loose stones, and a fragment of considerable size plunged into the dark stream below. Ellen, thinking the whole was giving way, pulled him quickly backwards from the brink. He lost his balance, and involuntarily, and less by his own act than hers, he was on his knees before her.

66 6 Rise up, Mr Dalton-I pray you rise.'

"I asked for nothing, Miss Hesketh, I hope for nothing, I expect nothing. But since I do kneel, I will not rise till I have said it-I love you, Ellen-I have loved you long-I have loved you from the first hour I saw you. I never loved before, and I shall never love another.'

"Mr Dalton, you are ill-you are sick-you are mad. This is no language for me to hear, nor for you to speak. Rise, rise, I beseech you.'

“Ellen, you are pale, deadly paleyou tremble-I have hurt you, wretch that I am-I have wounded, pained, offended you.'

"Pained indeed,' said Ellen, but not offended, You have filled me with sorrow, Mr Dalton-I give you that and my gratitude. More you do wrong in asking for; and if it had been otherwise, more I could not have given you.'

"The calmness of her voice and words restored Reginald, in some measure, to his self-possession. He obeyed the last motion of her hand, and sprung at once to his feet. You called me mad, Miss Hesketh-'twas but for a moment.'


of them preserving total silence. A deep flush mantled the young man's countenance all over-but ere they had reached the gate, that had concentrated itself into one small burning spot of scarlet upon either cheek, She, with downcast eyes, and pale as monumental marble, walked steadily and rapidly; while he, with long and regular strides, seemed to trample, rather than to tread the dry and echoing turf. He halted within the threshold of the ruined archway, and said, in a whisper of convulsive energy, Halt, madam, one word more ere we part. I cannot go with you to Witham-you must say what you will to Mr Keith. I have acted this day like a scoundrel-a villain-you called it madness, but I cannot plead that excuse. No, madam, there was the suddenness, the abruptness of phrenzy in the avowal-but the feeling had been nurtured and cherished in calmness, deliberately fostered, presumptuously and sinfully indulged. I had no right to love you; you behold a miserably weak and unworthy creature, who should not have dared to look on you.-But 'tis done, the wound is here, and it never can be healed. I had made myself unhappy, but you have driven me to the desperation of agony.-Farewell, madam, I had nothing to offer you but my love, and you did well to reject the unworthy gift-my love! You may well regard it as an insult. Forget the moment that I never can forget-Blot, blot from memory the hour when your pure ear drank those poisonous sighs! Do not pity me—I have no right to love-and pity!-no, noforget me, I pray you-forget me and my misery. And now, farewell once more -I am alone in the world.-May God bless you-you deserve to be happy.'

"He uttered these words in the same deep whisper by which he had arrested her steps. She gazed on him while he spake, with an anxious eye and a glowing cheek-when he stopped, the crimson fleeted away all in an instant. Pale as death, she opened her white and trembling lips, but not a word could come. The blood rushed again over cheek, brow, and bosom, and tears, an agony of tears, streamed from her fixed and motionless eyes.

"Ere he had time to say more, Miss Hesketh moved from the spot;-and Reginald, after pausing for a single instant, followed, and walked across the monastic garden, close by her side-both

"Reginald, clasping his forehead, sobbed out, Thrice miserable! wretch! miserable wretch! I have tortured an angel!'-He seized her hand, and she sunk upon the grass-he knelt over her, and her tears rained upon his hands. '0 God!' he cried, why have I lived for this hour? Speak, Ellen-speak, and speak forgiveness.'


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"Forgiveness!' she said-' O mock me not, Mr Dalton! what have I to forgive?

"Forgive the words that were wrung from me in bitterness of soul-Forgive me-forgive the passionate, involuntary cries of my mad anguish.'

"Oh, sir, you grieve, you wound me! -you know not how you wound me. I am a poor helpless orphan, and I shall soon have no friend to lean to.-How 'can I listen to such words as you have spoken ?-I am grateful; believe my tears, I am grateful indeed.'

"Grateful! for the love of mercy, do not speak so-be calm, let me see you


"How can I be calm? what can I

say? Oh, Mr Dalton, it is your wild looks that have tortured me, for I thought I had been calm!-Oh, sir, I pray you, be yourself-do not go from me thus-I am young and friendless, and I know not what I should do or speak. You, too, are young, and life is before you and I hope happiness-indeed I hope so.'

become as pale as their love was purebut the fulness of their young hearts was too rich for utterance-and all seem→ ed so like a dream, that neither had dared, even by a whisper, to hazard the dissolving of the dear melancholy charm."

"Nay,' said Reginald, solemnly, not happiness but I trust calmness to endure my misery. You may, but I cannot forget; and with this his tears also flowed, for hitherto not one drop had eased his burning eye-lids.

"Neither for a few moments said anything at last, Ellen rubbed aside her tears with a hot and rapid hand-and 'Hear me,' she said, 'hear me, Mr Dalton. We are both too young-we are both inexperienced-and we have both our sorrows, and we should both think of other things. Go, sir, and do your duty in the world; and if it will lighten your heart to know, that you carry with you my warmest wishes for your welfare, do take them with you. Hereafter there may come better days for us both, and then perhaps but no, no, sir, I know 'tis folly'

Reginald is now secured in that possession, which, to him, included all worth having in this life. He returns to his father's house, and there makes a confession, not of his love, but of his misdemeanours, and all his expensive follies. Nothing can be more beautiful and pathetic than the description of his father's entire forgiveness, and of the yearnings of his undiminished, his increased affection towards his beloved Reginald. The feelings of Reginald, too, are all painted as well as may be; and the vicarage is a happier dwelling than it ever was before, in the light of forgiveness, contrition, and reassured confidence and hope. The father and son read toge"ther their favourite classics once more; in which Reginald now sees meanings and gleamings of passion that formerly were hidden; for even during these few restless months his intellect had expanded and ripened, and from distress and delight, from perturbation "and blessedness, he had learnt to know something of himself, and of that nature to which he belonged. Meanwhile the Vicar had contrived, limited as were his means, to raise a sum sufficient for the payment of his son's debts; and Reginald returns in due time to Oxford, with the certainty of freedom from his former degrading. and intolerable bondage.

But, alas! it is not so easy to carry into execution the best formed and severest resolutions of virtue, in spite of all the nameless and inconceivable obstacles and difficulties that former follies had created, and which remain still as stumbling-blocks, or pit-falls, or barriers, to the sorely beset individual who would fain turn from the errors of the way that has too long been trodden. So we have the history of new trials, new failures, and new falls; and Reginald Dalton-after many noble efforts to save himself from ruin, and among others a voluntary surrender of his status in the university, and descent from the rank of a commoner to that of a servitor, in order that he might retrieve his ruined fortunes-he unluckily engages in a duel with his old acquaintance Chisney, whom he

"She bowed her head upon her knees -he drew her hand to his lips, and kissed it, and wept upon it, and whispered as none ever whispered twice, and was answered with a silence more eloquent even than all the whispers in the uni


"They sat together, their eyes never meeting, blushing, weeping, one in sorrow and one in joy. Thoughts too beautiful for words, thoughts of gentlest sadness, more precious than bliss, filled them both, and gushed over and mingled in their slow calm tears.

"An hour passed away, and there they were still speechless-the tears indeed had ceased to flow, and their cheeks had

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discovers attempting a brutal assault conception of it is both poetical and on Helen Hesketh, wounds his anta- philosophical. It is, on the whole, a gonist, is imprisoned, and finally ex- fine and a bold illustration of a segpelled the university. All these in- ment of life's circle. It is a living cidents, with all their accompanying moving picture-a sort of peristrephic causes and effects, are narrated with panorama. liveliness and vigour, and bring us to In the second place, the main obthe end of the second volume. ject of the work, namely, a delineation

Now, whoever wishes to know what of the youth of a given individual, is the third volume contains, will have attained, and well attained, and Rethe goodness to read it. All we shall ginald, with all his faults and transsay is this, that all Reginald's prospects gressions, is a lad of such metal, that in life are utterly ruined, and his the more England contains of them love for Helen now seems hopeless. the better—for the bar, the church, the He determines to go to India ; and army, and the navy. they first swear eternal fidelity in each In the third place, a great deal of other's arms. But, after many chap- talent is shewn in the sketches of chaters of accidents, the tragic scene shifts, racter throughout the three volumes, and hope rises on the horizon. Hidden and for the most part they are true to things are brought to light-histories nature. Of the priest Mr Keith, we of old times revived-secrets revealed may well say with Wordsworth. “ That --and affairs in general undergo many poor old man is richer than he seems; remai and important revolutions. and we ha not been half so much There is throughout the greater part in love with anybody since the short of the last volume an uncommon bus- peace of 1801, as with Helen Hesketh. tle, and running to and fro of all par- And, lastly, there is throughout, ties concerned. The wily are detect- such a power of writing, beautifully, ed; the crafty confuted; the guilty gracefully, vigorously, sarcastically, punished; the good rise up from po- and wittily, at will, as will puzzle verty, or obscurity, or danger; and, most of our acquaintances to equal, when the curtain falls, the head of He- from the great Unknown down to len Hesketh is on the bosom of Regi- Dominie Small-Text in Tom Campnald Dalton ;-and they are spending bell. Should any of them not think their honey-moon at GRYPHERWAST- so, let them try. Hall, of which Helen Hesketh turn- Now for the demerits. ed out to be heiress; and may Mrs In the first place, the deep and viDalton long flourish, and give birth tal interest of the history ceases with to at least three daughters, as fair and the conclusion of the second volume. as good as their delightful mother. The third, although we are involved

A long analysis of a popular novel in the curious and exciting progress of in a Magazine or Review, is indeed a an uncommon and ingenious denouedull absurdity; and we have therefore ment, is to us frequently teazing and done no more now, than merely state bothering. Let us, if possible, have a few things that it was necessary to no more wills and title-deeds, and state, to bring out before our readers cursed parchments of all sorts fluttersomething of the character of this ing and creaking in novels. They are very original production. The extracts becoming a perfect nuisance. will speak for themselves; and it will In the second place, there is not a be seen, from the glimpses of the story due proportion preserved between the which we have given, that it is full of sad, serious, solemn, pathetic, and bustle, variety, interest, and passion. impassioned, and the light, airy, froWe beg therefore to conclude with a licsome, and absurd. There is rather few sentences, summing up its general too much of the latter. They somemerits and demerits.

times seem to be the principal and In the first place, although neither prevailing character of the work. This this novel, nor any other novel we is a pity, and obviously happened beever read, stands by itself, that is to cause the author wrote away without say, belongs to no class, which we pre- any very regular plan; and when sume is what blockheads desire when sheets are printed off, pray, Mr Wisethey demand something wholly new, acre, what is to be done? Reginald Dalton will be universally ac- In thé third place, not a few of the knowledged to be a work of genius. The incidents are in themselves baddish.

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