the smile brightened on those dead lips as he bowed his young head in prayer.

Reader, for many reasons we must not linger there. But I had to tell you of that death and of those dying words which Julian knew by heart through life, and which he kept always with him as the amulet against temptation. He never forgot them; and oh! how often in the hours of trial did it seem as if that dying message was whispered in his ear, "Be brave, and honest, and pure, and God will be with you."

The concluding arrangements were soon made. The family left the rectory, but continued to reside at Ildown, a spot which they loved, and where they were known and loved. Mr. Home had insured his life for a sum, not large indeed, but sufficient to save them from absolute penury, and had besides laid by sufficient to continue Julian's education. It was determined that he should return to Harton, and there try for the Newry scholarship in time. If he should be successful in getting this, there would be no further difficulty in his going to college, for it was expected that a wealthy aunt of his would assist him. His guardians, however, were kind enough to determine that, even in case of his failing to obtain the Newry, they would provide for his university expenses, although they did not conceal from him the great importance of his earnestly studying with a view to gain this pecuniary aid. Cyril was sent to Marlby, and Frank, who was but ten years old, remained for the present at Ildown grammar school.

After the funeral, Julian returned to Harton with a sadder and wiser heart. Though never an idle boy, he had not as yet realized the necessity of throwing him

self fully into the studies of the place, but had rather given the reins to his fancy, and luxuriated in the gorgeous day-dreams of poetry and romance. Henceforward, he became a most earnest and diligent student, and day by day felt that his intellectual powers grew stronger and more developed by this healthier nourishment. At the end of that quarter he gained his first head-remove, and Mr. Carden rejoiced heartily in the success of his favorite pupil.

"Why, Julian, you will beat us all if you go on at this rate," said he, after reading over the trial verses which Julian asked him to criticise after the examination. "You always showed taste, but here we have vigor, too; and, for a wonder, you haven't made any mistakes."

"I'm afraid I shall be 'stumped' in the Greek 'Iambi,' sir, as Mr. Clarke calls them."

"Ah! well, you must take pains. You've improved, though, since you had to translate Milton's

'Smoothing the raven down

Of darkness, till it smiled;'

when, you remember, I gave you a literal version of your 'Iambi,' which meant 'pounding a pea-green fog.' Eh?"

"Oh, yes," said Julian; "I remember, too, that I rendered 'the moonbeams' by 'the moon's rafters.""

"Never mind," said Mr. Carden,, laughing; "improve in them as much as you have in Latin verse, and we shall see you Newry scholar yet."

A thrill of joy went through the boy's heart as he heard these words.

CHAPTER IV.

HOW JULIAN LOST A FORTUNE.

"Most like a stepdame or a dowager

Long withering out a young man's revenue."

SHAKSPEARE.

I MUST not chronicle Julian's school life, much as I should have to tell about him, and strong as the temptation is; but another event happened during his stay at Harton, which affected so materially his future years that I must proceed to narrate it now.

Julian's father had a sister much older than himself, who many years before had married a baronet-farmer, Sir Thomas Vinsear, of Lonstead Abbey. It was certainly not a love-match on the lady's side, for the baronet was twenty years her senior, and his tastes in no respect resembled hers. But she was already of "a certain age," and, despairing of a lover, accepted the good old country squire, and was located for the rest of her life as mistress of Lonstead Abbey.

As long as he lived all was well; Lady Vinsear, like a sensible wife, conformed herself to all his wishes and peculiarities, and won in no slight degree his gratitude and affection. But he did not long survive his marriage, and after a few years the lady found herself alone and childless in the solitary grandeur of her husband's home.

Her brother Henry, the rector of Ildown, had always been her special favorite, and she looked to his frequent visits to enliven her loneliness. But she was piqued by his having married without consulting her, and behaved so uncourteously to Mrs. Home, that for a long time the intercourse between them was broken.

One day, however, shortly before his death, she had written to announce an intended visit, and in due time her carriage stood before the rectory door. It so happened that it was Julian's holiday-time, and he was at home. Changed as the old lady had become by years and disappointment, and the ennui of an aimless widowhood, little relieved by the unceasing attendance of a confidante, yet Lady Vinsear's childless and withered heart seemed to be touched to life again when she gazed on her brother's beautiful and modest boy. Courteous without subservience, and attentive without servility, Julian, by his graceful and unselfish demeanor, won her complete affection, and she dropped to the family no ambiguous hints, that, for Julian's sake, she should renew her intercourse with them, and make him her heir. Circumstanced as he was, Mr. Home could not but rejoice in this determination, and the more so from his proud consciousness that not even the vilest detractor could charge him with having courted his rich sister's favor by open or secret arts. From Julian he would have concealed Lady Vinsear's intention, but she had herself made him tolerably aware of it, after a fit of violent spleen against Miss Sprong, her confidante, who, seeing how the wind lay, had tried to drop little malicious hints against the favorite nephew, until the old lady had cut them short by a peremptory

JULIAN AN HEIR.

43

That

order that Miss Sprong should leave the room. little rebuff the lady never forgot and never forgave, and, under the guise of admiration, she nursed her enmity against the unconscious Julian until due opportunity should have occurred to give it vent.

Every now and then, Julian, when wearied with study, would be tempted to think in his secret heart, "What does it matter my working so hard, when I shall be master of Lonstead Abbey some day?" And then perhaps would follow a rather inconsistent fit of idleness, till Mr. Carden, or some other master, applied the spur again.

"I can't make you out, Julian," said Lillyston; "sometimes you grind away for a month, like—like beans, and then you're as idle again for a week as the dog that laid his head against a wall to bark."

"Well, shall I tell you, Hugh?" answered Julian, who had often felt that it would be a relief to put his friend in possession of the secret. And he told Lillyston that he was the acknowledged heir of his aunt's property.

"Oh, well, then," said Lillyston, "I don't see why I should work either, seeing as how Lillyston Court will probably come to me some day. I say, Julian, I vote we both try for lag next trials. It'd save lots of grind."

All this was brought out very archly, and instantly recalled to Julian's mind the many arguments which he had used to his friend, especially since his father's death, to prove that, under any circumstances, diligence was a duty which secured its own reward; indeed, he used to maintain that, even on selfish grounds, it was