proclaimed amid the loudest cheers, that the ministry was left in a most disgraceful minority; and finding themselves unable longer to carry on their plans, their resignation was certain.

Defeated and disgraced, they naturally blamed Aubrey for his wanton attack on Cleveland, which had evidently excited him to pursue the steps that had led to their dawnfall. They saw such an event was unexpected even by their enemies, and of course nothing but the impolitic steps taken by Aubrey could have led to such consequences.

The news was soon spread: it reached the ears of Lord Bristol, who was in the House of Lords. He immediately proceeded to leave the place, conscious, that his downfall would become the subject of the evening's business. On his way to his carriage, he met Cleveland, to whom, on all former occasions, he had shewn great civility; but, whether he had lost his temper, which could not be suspected, or from accident; instead of the usual show of courtesy, he pushed rudely by him, which was noticed by Cleveland; some high words quickly past, unsuited alike to the place, and to the individuals who uttered them; but the result was the necessity of both parties vindicating their honour, by appealing to the use of pistols, the worst resource for all explanations.

It is impossible to describe the sensations of Cleveland, when the mist of passion faded from his eyes. He had quarrelled with his parent, who had declared, her happiness depended on his forbearance towards the man, whom he had just publicly defeated and dishonoured; and with whom he now had a private dispute which must terminate in the destruction of one or the other. He sent immediately to Lord Delaware-he told him all that had occurred-he threw himself on his friendship to guide him through paths of such difficulty.

Of the overthrow of the ministry, and of the consequent quarrel, Lord Delaware had heard; but those he considered subjects of much less importance than the unfortunate disunion between the parent and the son, which would only be increased by the other events. As things had proceeded so far with Lord Bristol, there could be but one termination, and the Earl of Delaware most unwillingly found himself obliged to be the bearer of a challenge, which was proudly accepted, and the following morning fixed on for the meeting.

In the mean time Lord Delaware called on Lady Cleveland, and vainly attempted to promote a reconciliation. Circumstances had taken so unfortunate a turn, that nothing could persuade the mother to avail herself of the amiable conduct of her son. She refused to listen to the bearer of his wishes. The news of what had occurred in the House had reached her, though of course she could not be aware of the duel, in which he was involved. The account of his quarrel with Lord Bristol had been repeated to

her, but as she was not aware that any insult had been offered on either side, she did not foresee the impending storm.

Lord Delaware took the opportunity of speaking to Miss Avondale, who seemed beyond measure distressed at the state of affairs: and she conjured his lordship to watch, with his usual judgment and good sense, over their unfortunate friend; and implored him to see that nothing was done rashly, or to awake a future repent

ance.

"Do you think," said Lord Delaware, "my friend is to blame on this occasion ?"

Her answer was, "The child who quarrels with a parent must be wrong; forbearance is the first duty, and politics should not interfere between the ties of nature."

"But a man must support his principles ?" replied he.

"As Lord Bacon has said, 'a politician should have no family:' what but presumption could have taught so young a man to enter the field of public life, without well weighing the sacrifices he must make? if the affections of the heart have a sway, they render a man incapable of pursuing a strict line of duty," replied Miss Avondale.

"Do you think," asked Delaware, "we can in any way promote a reconciliation? If Lady Mary thought her son's life in danger, would she not instantly rush with affection into his arms?"

"What do you mean?—his life in danger?" said Miss Avondale, looking with an eye of scrutinizing examination, as if she would read the very depth of his soul, whilst at the same moment her face assumed a marble paleness, her lips quivered, and an agitation seemed to possess her frame: this in an instant she recovered from; and with an indescribable air of solemnity, said, "I conjure you by all you hold sacred, tell me, the thought that has, Lord Delaware, taken possession of you. Nay, it is useless to refuse-I read your mind, something threatens Cleveland. In vain you deny it-there is a look that betrays you, that none but I, can read. Tell me instantly, without disguise, or you for ever forfeit" -and her lip trembled as she spoke, "the regard that lives for you within this bosom."

"I know not how to answer you," said Delaware, "without betraying the honour of a man and a gentleman."

"You have said enough," she replied, "and I am satisfied. I understand you, he fights a duel. Well, sir, now I know the worst, and am prepared-do you," and again she looked pale, "do you, my lord, expose yourself on this occasion? Nay, do not hesitate no being but ourselves shall know; but this is necessary for my repose, nay, for the happiness of all."

"I do not," said he, "but dare I flatter myself, Miss Avondale takes an interest in the welfare-" he could not conclude his sentence, the young lady had vanished, and without further explanation, left him to ruminate on her extraordinary conduct.

He could not tell, from her manner, whether it was for himself, or for Cleveland's safety she had trembled. Certain it was, that he felt for Miss Avondale a regard, a feeling of respect and admiration, he never before had entertained for any one. He left Dover-street, and sought out Cleveland, whom he was to accompany that evening to Exeter House, where, of course, all was joy. On their arrival, they had the pleasure of receiving thanks for the benefit conferred on all by Cleveland's manly eloquence; and the Earl of Exeter informed them, he had received a most gracious message from the highest quarter, requesting him to form a new administration, upon terms most flattering and advantageous to themselves.

Every point had been conceded, and nothing now was wanted but to nominate the different individuals to the respective situations they were to fill; and it was understood that a particular party, belonging to the late administration, would not feel disinclined to support measures different from those that had proved so unfortunate. It was conjectured that the precious Aubreys were the party who, having just tasted the honied sweets of office, either loved them too much, or were unwilling to deprive the country of the advantages to be derived from their services. At any rate, George Aubrey seemed to forget his misfortune, for on the very morning following the defeat, he had persuaded the fair Mrs. Avondale to become his bride; the world cruelly said, it was to secure her fortune, as his chance of the promised reward, a title had much diminished.

The only person who was less himself at Exeter House, was Cleveland. The affairs of the last two days had made him unhappy beyond the power of utterance; and his quarrel with Lord Bristol, to be decided the following morning, preyed upon his spirits. Lady Harriet, who had lately been much struck with the difference of his conduct towards her, attributed it to some fault or folly of her own; her spirits were consequently depressed, and on Cleveland addressing her, when they happened to find themselves separated from the company, she scarcely could suppress her emotion.

Cleveland gazed on her for some moments: in his eyes she was loveliness itself. Her pensive countenance struck him forcibly, and he could not without feeling the deepest anxiety look on the lovely being before him. Probably, he thought, I may never see thee more-never hear the encomiums which are dearest to my heart-never enraptured listen once again to the voice whose sound wakes within me some chord that vibrates on my heart. To see her, and not to love her, is impossible; and can I leave her without one sigh of love breathed in her ear, or dare I waken within her thoughts which, should I fall, will render life to her most painful.

Lady Harriet waited in hopes he would address her; at last she faltered forth, "How," Mr. Cleveland, "how have I offended

you, that you no more indulge me with your society-or then, are so abstracted, that I fear I only am a cause of pain to you?"

With eyes that spoke the tender emotion of his heart, Cleveland replied, "I offended with you!-oh, impossible! could I but tell you all this heart has suffered from those who are dearest to it, you would indeed forgive me; but nothing can efface from my mind the place your image holds, the happy hours we have spent can never, never be forgotten; would that you knew how much of happiness your presence gives me!"

"Oh! I have feared," said Lady Harriet, "you were estranged from me, our moments of meeting have of late been so seldom ; but I fear many painful circumstances have occurred. I hear, with great regret, Lady Mary and yourself have separated. Well, though I admire your honour and integrity, I must own I think the purchase is most dear."

"And, therefore," said Cleveland, attempting to smile, " do I not deserve more praise for the sacrifices I have made ?"

"Oh! talk not of sacrifice," Lady Harriet said: "can I not aid you in a reconciliation? your mother was once a warm friend of my mother's, and may now be so to me."

"Would, my dear Lady Harriet, that she was your nearest friend," was his reply.-She looked lovelier than ever he had seen her; she indeed smiled beautifully; her expressive eyes beamed with affection, and her blushing countenance spoke a thousand fond ideas, as he proceeded, "would that my mother could see you— would that she heard me now breathe into your sweet sense vows of eternal love; long have I indulged the fond hope, that you, my Harriet, would listen to the voice of one who adores you, whose wish is with you to live-with you to die."

Lady Harriet could not speak: the crimson on her face alternately came and fled; her whole frame was agitated; pleasure seemed to breathe in her heaving breast, and she at last sighed forth, "Cleveland, I have indeed loved you, and must for ever love"

"Breathe but those words again—let me hear you say once more, you love me, dearest Harriet, and let my every sense be gratified with the sound that the fondest-dearest object of my soul, feels as I do: dearest treasure of my existence, every hour of life has been made happy by those sounds!"

"I dare not," she said, "trust myself with such bold accents again."

In a few short moments, all the language that tenderness can suggest was uttered, and ten thousand times repeated by Cleveland, to his enamoured Harriet; who greedily drank up the words of bliss that fell upon her ear. He exhausted all the phrases that love could suggest, and her heart beat with the liveliest rapture as she listened to him. In his affections a new world seemed to open to her. And who can describe the extatic,

warm pleasure a woman feels, when first, the man she loves, tells her he adores her; and that his existence is wrapped up in hers. The mutual transport that beamed from their eyes, the thrilling glances of affection, the rivetted gaze, that each fixed upon the other, spoke how sincere was the passion that both had confessed, and was the best proof of real love. Fortunately, they were in the room alone, for they had retired from the crowded apartments, and each could give way to the feelings of the heart. Cleveland clasped the lovely creature to his bosom, and dared imprint upon her blushing cheek a sacred kiss. Her downcast eyes-her trembling lips spoke the fond emotion of her soul, and she felt she was now entirely another's, but that other was her adored Cleveland. It was his arm that encircled her waist-it was his eyes from which such thrilling pleasure beamed-it was from Cleveland words of rapture fell, and sad was the moment when they must even for a few short hours separate. She unwillingly bade him adieu at that word a thousand ideas crossed the mind of Cleveland: he thought of the morrow-he could not-dared not, say, adieu; but pressed her to his heart, and silent fled.

It was early when Cleveland returned to the apartments he had occupied, since his quarrel with his mother had obliged him to leave her residence in Dover-street. It is beyond the power of words to convey any idea of the state of agitation he was in:-he had declared his passion for the dear object of his affections:-he was at variance with his mother, and might be on the point of rushing into eternity, or depriving a fellow creature of his existence. If he fell, what would be the agony of his adored parent? To have lost him in a momentary fit of anger, would be, he thought, the deepest punishment that could be inflicted on his weeping mother. The thought was misery. He determined at all hazards to see her: he consulted only the dictates of his heart, and in a few minutes he found himself in her presence. She was surrounded by numerous friends. She gave that evening a party, to conceal, or to drive away, the sorrow that preyed upon her soul. But what was her surprise, at the moment her friends were about to leave her, to behold Cleveland enter pale, haggard, with despair painted on his features. The sight overcame her-she rushed into his arms-she fainted-and embraced, in that image of death, her only son.

The agitation which this scene threw all around into, gave Cleveland some time to recover the faculties that had forsaken him. He paid the most unremitting attention to his mother, and when she recovered from the state of stupor into which she had been thrown, he implored her forgiveness for the past, and, regardless of the people who surrounded her, vented his feelings of love and affection. She repaid his transports with all a mother's warmth, and fondly told him,-the past was forgotten, that the sufferings she too had endured would be the pledge that his future

VOL. I.

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