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had finished speaking, he remained, with slightly drooped head and clasped hands, in deep meditation.

"It's a strange thing," said he, at last; "but the more I see of the aristocracy, the more I'm convinced that they ought to have doctors for themselves alone, just as they have their own tailors and coachmakers— chaps that could devote themselves to the study of physic for the peerage, and never think of any other disorders but them that befal people of rank. Your mistake, Sir Horace, was in consulting the regular middle-class practitioner, who invariably imagined there must be a disease to treat.'

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"And you set me down as a hypochondriac, then ?" said Upton, smiling.

"Nothing of the kind! You have a malady sure enough, but nothing organic. Tis the oceans of tinctures; the sieves-full of pills, the quartercasks of bitters you're takin', has played the divil with you. The human ma-chine is like a clock, and it depends on the proportion the parts bear to each other, whether it keeps time. You may make the spring too strong, or the chain too thick, or the balance too heavy for the rest of the works, and spoil everything just by over security. That's what your doctors was doing with their tonics and cordials. They did'nt see, here's a poor washy frame, with a wake circulation and ho vigour. If we nourish him his heart will go quicker, to be sure, but what will his brain be at? There's the rub! His brain will begin to go fast, too, and already it's going the pace. 'Tis soothin' and calmin' you want; allayin' the irritability of an irrascible, fretful nature, always on the watch for self-torment. Say-bathin', early hours, a quiet, mopin' kind of life, that would, maybe, tend to torpor and sleepiness them's the first things you need; and for exercise, a little work in the garden that you'd take interest in."

"And no physic?" asked Sir Horace. "Sorra screed! not as much as a powder or a draught, barrin'," said he, suddenly catching the altered expression of the sick man's face, "a little mixture of hyoscyamus I'll compound for you myself. This, and friction over the region of the heart, with a mild embrocation, is all my tratement!"

"And you have hopes of my re covery ?" asked Sir Horace, faintly.

"My name isn't Billy Traynor, if I'd not send you out of this hale and hearty before two months. I read you like a printed book."

"You really give 'me great confidence, for 1 perceive you understand the tone of my temperament. Let us try this same embrocation at once; I'll most implicitly obey you in everything."

"My head on a block, then, but I'll cure you," said Billy; who determined that no scruples on his side should mar the trust reposed in him by the patient. "But you must give yourself entirely up to me, not only as to your eatin' and drinkin', but your hours of recreation and study, exercise, amusement, and all, must be at my biddin'. It is the principle of harmony between the moral and physical nature constitutes the whole sacret of my system. To be stimulatin' thé nerves, and lavin' the arteries dormant, is like playing a jig to minuet time-all must move in simultaneous action, and the cerebellum, the great fly-wheel of the whole, must be made to keep orderly time, d'ye mind."

"I follow you with great interest," said Sir Horace, to whose subtle nature there was an intense pleasure in the thought of having discovered what he deemed a man of original genius under this unpromising exterior "There is but one bar to these arrangements-I must leave this at once; I ought to go to-day. I must be off to-morrow."

"Then I'll not take the helm when I can't pilot you through the shoals," said Billy. "To begin my system, and see you go away before I developed my grand invigoratin' arcanum, would be only to destroy your confidence in an elegant discovery."

"Were I only as certain as you seem to be" began Sir Horace, and then stopped.

"You'd stay and be cured, you were goin' to say. Well, if you didn't feel that same trust in me, you'd be right to go; for it is that very confidence that turns the balance. Ould Babbington used to say that between a good physician and a bad one there was just the difference between a pound and a guinea. But between the one you trust and the one you don't, there's a whole wide ocean."

"On that score every advantage is with you," said Upton, with all the

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winning grace of his incomparable and I must now bethink me how I can manage to prolong my stay here." And with this he fell into a musing fit, letting drop occasionally some stray word or two, to mark the current of his thoughts-" The Duke of Headwater's on the thirteenth-Ardroath Castle the Tuesday after-Morehampton for the Derby day. These easily disposed of. Prince Boratinsky, about that Warsaw affair, must be attended to; a letter, yes, a letter, will keep that question open. Lady Grencliffe is a difficulty; if I plead illness, she'll say I'm not strong enough to go to Russia. I'll think it over.' And with this he rested his head on his hands, and sank into profound reflection. "Yes, doctor," said he, at length, as though summing up his secret calculations, "health is the first requisite. If you can but restore me, you will be-I am above the mere personal consideration-you will be the means of conferring an important service on the King's Government. A variety of questions, some of them deep and intricate, are now pending, of which I alone understand the secret meaning. A new hand would infallibly spoil the game; and yet, in my present condition, how could I bear the fatigues of long interviews, ministerial deliberations, incessant notewriting, and evasive conversations?"

"Utterly unpossible!" exclaimed the doctor.

"As you observe, it is utterly impossible," rejoined Sir Horace, with one of his own dubious smiles; and then, in a manner more natural, resumed "We public men have the sad necessity of concealing the sufferings on which others trade for sympathy. We must never confess to an ache or a pain, lest it be rumoured that we are unequal to the fatigues of office; and so is it that we are condemned to run the race with broken

health and shattered frame, alleging all the while that no exertion is too much, no effort too great for us."

"And may be, after all, it's that very struggle that makes you more than common men," said Billy. "There's a kind of irritability that keeps the brain at stretch, and renders it equal to higher efforts than ever accompanies good every-day health. Dyspepsia is the soul of a prosewriter, and a slight ossification of the aortic valves is a great help to the imagination."

"Do you really say so?" asked Sir Horace, with all the implicit confidence with which he accepted any marvel that had its origin in medicine.

"Don't you feel it yourself, sir?" asked Billy. "Do you ever pen a reply to a knotty state-paper as nately as when you've the heartburn ?— are you ever as epigrammatic as when you're driven to a listen slipper?-and when do you give a minister a jobation as purtily as when you are labourin' under a slight indigestion? Not that it would sarve a man to be permanently in gout or the cholic; but for a spurt like a cavalry charge, there's nothing like eatin' something that disagrees with you."

"An ingenious notion," said the diplomatist, smiling.

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And now I'll take my lave," said Billy, rising. "I'm going out to gather some mountain-colchicum and sorrel, to make a diaphoretic infusion ; and I've to give Master Charles his Greek lesson; and blister the colthe's thrown out a bone spavin; and, after that, Handy Carr's daughter has the shakin' ague, and the smith at the forge is to be bled-all before two o'clock, when 'the lord' sends for me; but the rest of the day, and the night, too, I'm your honor's obaydient."

And with a low bow, repeated in a more reverential manner at the door, Billy took his leave and retired.

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CHAPTER X.

DISCLOSURE.

"HAVE you seen Upton?" asked Glencore eagerly, of Harcourt, as he entered his bedroom.

"Yes; he vouchsafed me an audience during his toilet, just as the old kings of France were accustomed to honour a favourite with one."

"And is he full of miseries at the dreary place, the rough fare, and deplorable resources of this wild spot?"

"Quite the reverse; he is charmed with everything and everybody. The view from his window is glorious; the air has already invigorated him. For

years he has not breakfasted with the same appetite; and he finds, that of all the places he has ever chanced upon, this is the one veritable exact spot which suits him."

"This is very kind on his part," said Glencore, with a faint smile. "Will the humour last, Harcourt? That is the question."

"I trust it will; at least it may well endure for the short period he means to stay; although already he has extended that, and intends remaining till next week."

"Better still," said Glencore, with more animation of voice and manner. "I was already growing nervous about the brief space in which I was to crowd in all that I want to say to him; but if he will consent to wait a day or two, I hope I shall be equal to it."

"In his present mood there is no impatience to be off; on the contrary, he has been inquiring as to all the available means of locomotion, and by what convenience he is to make various sea and land excursions."

"We have no carriage-we have no roads, even," said Glencore, peevishly.

"He knows all that; but he is concerting measures about a certain turf. kish, I think they call it, which, by the aid of pillows to lie on, and donkeys to drag, can be made a most useful vehicle; while for longer excursions he has suggested a convenience of wheels and axles to the punt, rendering it equally eligible on land or water. Then he has been designing great improvements in horticulture, and given orders about a rake, a spade, and a hoe for himself. I'm quite serious,” said Harcourt, as Glencore smiled with a kind of droll incredulity. "It is perfectly true; and as he hears that the messenger occasionally crosses the Lough to the Post-when there are no letters there, he hints at a little simple telegraph for Leenane, which should announce what the mail contains, and which might be made useful to convey other intelligence. In fact, all my changes here will be as nothing to his reforms, and between us you'll not know your own house again, if you even be able to live in it."

"You have already done much to make it more habitable, Harcourt," said Glencore, feelingly; "and if I had not the grace to thank you for it, I'm not the less grateful. To say truth, my old friend, I half doubted

whether it was an act of friendship to attach me ever so lightly to a life of which I am well weary. Ceasing as I have done for years back to feel interest in anything, I dread whatever may again recall me to the world of hopes and fears that agitated sea of passion, whereon I have no longer vigour to contend. To speak to me then of plans to carry out, schemes to accomplish, was to point to a future of activity and exertion; and I"-here he dropped his voice to a deep and mournful tone"can have but one future!—the dark and dreary one before the grave."

Harcourt was too deeply impressed by the solemnity of these words to venture on a reply, and he sat silently contemplating the sorrow-struck, but placid features of the sick man.

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"There is nothing to prevent a man struggling, and successfully, too, against mere adverse fortune," continued Glencore. "I feel at times that if I had been suddenly reduced to actual beggary-left without a shilling in the world that there are many ways in which I could eke out subsistence. great defeat to my personal ambition I could resist. The casualty that should exclude me from a proud position and public life, I could bear up against with patience, and I hope with dignity. Loss of fortune-loss of influence-loss of station-loss of health, even dearer than them all, can be borne. There is but one intolerable ill-one that no time alleviates, no casuistry diminishes -loss of honour! Ay, Harcourt, rank and riches do little for him who feels himself the inferior of the meanest that elbows him in a crowd; and the man whose name is a scoff and a gibe has but one part to fill-to make himself forgotten.”

"I hope I'm not deficient in a sense of personal honour, Glencore," said Harcourt; "but I must say, that I think your reasoning on this point is untenable and wrong."

"Let us not speak more of it," said Glencore, faintly. "I know not how I have been led to allude to what it is better to bear in secret, than confide even to friendship;" and he pressed the strong fingers of the other, as he spoke, in his own feeble grasp. "Leave me now, Harcourt, and send Upton here. It may be that the time is come when I shall be able to speak to him."

"You are too weak to-day, Glen

core-too much agitated. Pray defer this interview."

"No, Harcourt; these are my moments of strength. The little energy now left to me is the fruit of strong excitement. Heaven knows how I shall be to-morrow."

Harcourt made no further opposition, but left the room in search of Upton.

It was full an hour later when Sir Horace Upton made his appearance in Glencore's chamber, attired in a purple dressing-gown, profusely braided with gold, loose trowsers as richly brocaded, and a pair of real Turkish slippers, resplendent with costly embroi dery; a small fez of blue velvet, with a deep gold tassel, covered the top of his head, at either side of which his soft silky hair descended in long massy waves, apparently negligently, but in reality arranged with all the artistic regard to effect of a consummate master. From the gold girdle at his waist depended a watch, a bunch of keys, a Turkish purse, an embroidered tobacco-bag, a gorgeously chased smelling-bottle, and a small stiletto, with an opal handle. In one hand he éarried a meerschaum, the other leaned upon a cane, and with all the dependance of one who could not walk without its aid. The greeting was cordial and affectionate on both sides; and when Sir Horace, after a variety of preparations to ensure his comfort, at length seated himself beside the bed, his features beamed with all their wonted gentleness and kindness.

"I'm charmed at what Harcourt has been telling me, Upton," said Glencore; "and that you really can exist in all the savagery of this wild spot."

"I'm in ecstasy with the place, Glencore. My memory cannot recall the same sensations of health and vigour I have experienced since I came here. Your cook is first-rate; your fare is exquiste; the quiet is a positive blessing; and that queer creature, your doctor, is a very remarkable genius."

"So he is," said Glencore, gravely. "One of those men of original mould, who leave cultivation leagues behind, and arrive at truth by a bound."

"He certainly treated me with considerable skill.”

"I'm satisfied of it; his conversation is replete with shrewd and intelli

gent obsérvation; and he seems to have studied his art more like a philosopher than a mere physician of the schools; and depend upon it, Glencore, the curative art must mainly depend upon the secret instinct which divines the malady, less by the rigid rules of acquired skill than by that prerogative of genius, which, however exerted, arrives at its goal at once. Our conversation had scarcely lasted a quarter of an hour, when he revealed to me the exact seat of all my sufferings, and the most perfect picture of my temperament. And then his suggestions as to treatment were all so reasonable so well argued."

"A elever fellow-no doubt of it," said Glencore.

"But he is far more than that, Glencore. Cleverness is only a manufacturing quality-that man supplies the raw article also. It has often struck me as very singular that such heads are not found in our class they belong to another order altogether. It is possible that the stimulus of necessity engenders the greatest of all efforts, calling to the operations of the mind the continued strain for contrivance; and thus do we find the most remarkable men are those, every step of whose knowledge has been gained with a struggle."

"I suspect you are right," said Glencore; "and that our old system of school education, wherein all was rough, rugged, and difficult, turned out better men than the present day habit of everything-made-easy and everybody-made-anything. Flippancy is the characteristic of our age, and we owe it to our schools."

"By the way, what do you mean to do with Charley?" said Upton. "Do you intend him for Eton ?"

"I scarcely know-I make plans only to abandon them," said Glencore, gloomily.

"I'm greatly struck with him. He is one of those fellows, however, who require the nicest management, and who either rise superior to all around them, or drop down into an indolent, dreamy existence, conscious of power, but too bashful or too lazy to exert it."

"You have hit him off, Upton, with all your own subtlety; and it was to speak of that boy I have been so eager to see you."

Glencore paused as he said these words, and passed his hand over his

brow, as though to prepare himself for the task before him.

"Upton," said he, at last, in a voice of deep and solemn meaning, “the resolution I am about to impart to you is not unlikely to meet your strenuous opposition; you will be disposed to show me strong reasons against it on every ground; you may refuse me that amount of assistance I shall ask of you to carry out my purpose; but if your arguments were all unanswerable, and if your denial to aid me was to sever the old friendship between us, I'd still persist in my determination. For more than two years the project has been before my mind. The long hours of the day, the longer ones of the night, have found me deep in the consider ation of it. I have repeated over to myself everything that my ingenuity could suggest against it I have said to my own heart all that my worst enemy could utter, were he to read the scheme and detect my plan-I have done more, I have struggled with myself to abandon it; but all in vain. My heart is linked to it; it forms the one sole tie that attaches me to life. Without it, the apathy that I feel stealing over me would be complete, and my existence become a mournful dream. In a word, Upton, all is passionless within me, save one sentiment; and I drag on life merely for a vendetta."

Upton shook his head mournfully, as the other paused here, and said "This is disease, Glencore!" "Be it so; the malady is beyond cure," said he, sternly.

"Trust me it is not so," said Upton, gently; "you listened to my persuasions on a more

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"Ay, that I did!" cried Glencore, interrupting," and have I ever ceased to rue the day I did so! But for your arguments, and I had not lived this life of bitter, self-reproaching misery; but for you, and my vengeance had been sated ere this !"

"Remember, Glencore," said the other," that you had obtained all the world has decreed as satisfaction. He met you and received your fire; you shot him through the chest; not mortally, it is true, but to carry to his grave a painful, lingering disease. To have insisted on his again meeting you would have been little less than murder. No man could have stood your friend in such a quarrel. I told you so then, I repeat it now, he could

not fire at you; what then was it pos sible for you to do?"

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"Shoot him-shoot him like a dog!" cried Glencore, while his eyes gleamed like the glittering eyes of an enraged beast. You talk of his lingering life of pain; think of mine; have some sympathy for what I suffer! Would all the agony of his whole existence equal one hour of the torment he has bequeathed to me, its shame and ignominy?"

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"These are things which passion can never treat of, my dear Glencore." "Passion alone can feel them," said the other sternly. "Keep subtleties for those who use like weapons. for me, no casuistry is needed to tell me I am dishonoured, and just as little to tell me I must be avenged! If you think differently, it were better not to to discuss this question further between us; but I did think I could have reckoned upon you, for I felt you had barred my first chance of a vengeance."

"Now, then, for your plan, Glencore," said Upton, who with all the dexterity of his calling preferred opening a new channel in the discussion, to aggravating difficulties by a further opposition.

"I must rid myself of her! There's my plan!" cried Glencore, savagely. "You have it all in that resolution. Of no avail is it that I have separated my fortune from hers so long as she bears my name, and renders it infamous in every city of Europe? Is it to you who live in the world, who mix with men of every country, that I need tell this? If a man cannot throw off such a shame he must sink under it."

"But you told me you had an unconquerable aversion to the notion of seeking a divorce?"

"So I had so I have! The indelicate, the ignominious course of a trial at law, with all its shocking exposure, would be worse than a thousand deaths! To survive the suffering of all the licensed ribaldry of some gowned coward, aspersing one's honour, calumniating, inventing, and when invention failed, suggesting motives, the very thought of which in secret had driven a man to madness! to endure this-to read it to know it went published over the wide globe, till one's shame became the gossip of millions and then, with a verdict extorted from pity, damages awarded to repair a broken heart and a sullied

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