A REMINISCENCE.

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position, Julian grappled with him. It required all Lillyston's strength to retain his position against this wild assault, but he managed to do so without inflicting any hurt; and when Julian paused, Lillyston noticed with a sense of relief that the chapel bell had ceased to ring.

"I WILL go," said Julian, madly renewing the struggle. But with all his efforts he could not stir Lillyston from the door, and only succeeded in tearing his surplice from the neck downward. He paused, and, baffled of his intention, glared at his opponent. "The clock has now struck," said Lillyston, calmly, "and the doors will be shut. You are too late to get in."

Julian stamped impatiently on the floor, and prepared to close with Lillyston again, but now Lillyston stepped from the door, and as he slowly went out, turned round and said,

"Julian, do you call this being brave or strong? Can you let one disappointment unman you so utterly? 'Be brave, and honest, and pure, and God will be with you." The words flashed into light from the folded pages of Julian's memory, and with them the dim image of a dead face and the dying echo of a father's voice.

15

CHAPTER XIV.

MR. CARDEN.

"Pol pudere quam pigere præstat totidem literis."

PLAUT. Trinum., II. 2.

WHO has not felt, who does not know, that one sin yielded to, that one passion uncontrolled, too often brings with it a train of other sins, and betrays the drawbridge of the citadel to a thousand enemies beside?

It had been so with Julian Home, and in proportion to the true strength and beauty of his character was the poignancy of his bitterness when he awoke the next morning, and calmly reviewed the few last excited, prayerless, and unworthy days. Surely after so many proofs of weakness, surely after emotions and acts so violently inadequate to the circumstances which had caused them, his best friends must despise him as utterly as he despised himself.

He arose that morning strong out of weakness. He determined that he would be checked no longer by unavailing regrets, and that his repentance should be open and manly, as his prostration had been conspicuous. Fortified by the humiliating experience of his own want of strength, he sought for help in resolute determination and earnest prayer. After breakfast, his first step was to call on Owen, and congratulate him with hearty and

unaffected simplicity on his success-a success which Owen generously acknowledged to be due solely to Julian's misfortune. It was much more difficult to call on Hazlet, but this, too, Julian felt to be his duty; and distasteful as it was, he would not shrink from performing it. Hazlet received him with a ludicrous air of offended dignity, and was barely overcome into a tone of magnanimous forgiveness by Julian's frank apology. On the whole, Julian decided that it would be best not to call on Brogten, lest, by so doing, he should seem to be reminding him of the consequences of his enmity under the appearance of expressing a regret. It only remained therefore to see Lillyston, and to this visit Julian looked with unmitigated joy.

"Forgive me, Hugh," he said, as he entered the room; "from this time forward I shall owe you a new debt of gratitude; you have saved me from I know not what disgrace."

Lillyston was delighted to see him look like his old self once more. The thunder-cloud which had been hanging on his brow was dissipated, and the sullen expression had wholly passed.

"Don't talk of debt, Julian," he said; "between friends, you know, there are no obligations—they are merged in the friendship itself."

“I am amazed at my own intolerable folly, Hugh. I hope this is the last time that I shall yield to such storms of passion. I have much to be ashamed of."

“Well, Julian,” said Lillyston, changing the subject; "you mustn't think any more of this Clerkland, for potentially you got it, as everybody acknowledges; δυνάμει you were successful, if not ἔργῳ”

"I don't mean to let it discourage me," said Julian, "though the potential is mightily different from the actual." Nor did he suffer it to discourage him, or weaken his endeavors. His life soon began to flow once more in its usual, even, and quiet course. It did not take him long to discover that it was possible to live happily without the Clerkland, and he wondered in himself at the intensity of the desire to obtain it, which he had suffered to overpower him. He felt no touch of envy toward Owen, whose friendship be began to value more and more, and who voluntarily told him, from information that he had derived from the examiners themselves, that the decision had long hung in a doubtful scale. In fact, the scholarship would have been divided between both of them but for one of the examiners, who hardly appreciated Julian's merits. It was so well understood that Julian must have been the successful candidate but for the one fatal paper on Monday morning, that he rather gained than lost in reputation from the result of the competition.

It was a few days after these events that Julian received from Mr. Carden a pressing invitation to spend a Sunday with him at Harton. Glad of a change, he easily obtained an exeat, and went down on the Saturday morning. Even the half year since he had left had made a perceptible change in the old place. There were many new faces, and many old ones had disappeared, so that, already, he began to feel himself half a stranger among the familiar scenes. But alike from boys and masters he received a kindly greeting, and Mr. Carden entertained him with a pleasant and genial hospitality. The only thing which pained him was

A FAREWELL PRESENT.

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the obvious change for the worse in Mr. Carden's health. He wore a sadder expression than of old, and though he made no remark about his health, yet every now and then his face seemed to be suddenly contracted by a throb of pain.

On the Monday morning, when it was necessary for Julian to return to Camford, Mr. Carden called him into his study after breakfast, and asked him to choose any book he liked, as a farewell present, from the shelves.

"But why a farewell present, Mr. Carden?" asked Julian, laughing. "Aren't you ever going to ask me to Harton again?"

"No," said Mr. Carden, with a sad smile, "never again. I resign my mastership at the end of this term," he continued, in answer to Julian's inquiring look; "my health is so uncertain that I feel unequal any longer to these most arduous, most responsible duties. Perhaps, too," he added, "I may be a little disappointed in the result of my labors; but, at any rate, though as yet few are aware of it, this is my last month. at Harton-so choose one of my books, Julian, as a farewell present."

Julian expressed his real sorrow at Mr. Carden's failing health. "If you go away," he said, "it will seem as if the chief tie which bound me to dear old Harton was suddenly snapped." He chose as his memento a small volume of sermons which Mr. Carden had published in former days, and asked him to write his name on the title-page.

if

"Yes," said the master, "you shall have that book, you like; but I mean you to have also a more sub