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 . 27, 1860.] the sentiments I entertained towards him were certainly those of aversion tinctured with fear. I had, it is true, nothing to be afraid of, for he had no power to injure me in any way. I was thoroughly and entirely independent of him, but yet, such is the force of early implanted habit, that I was never at ease in his presence, and my comfort and enjoyment depended altogether on living apart from him.

Then I wondered whether the rumour of my intended marriage had reached him, and whether he had come to Paris in the hope of preventing it; and smiled contemptuously at the idea. Nevertheless, I wished he had not come, but had died quietly at Pau, if he was going to die, instead of undertaking this fruitless journey to disturb my tranquillity.

These were not dutiful, nor indeed humane, reflections; but, I repeat, this is a confession; and as parents sow they must expect to reap.

The memory of those early sufferings and injustices had never faded; and as I danced round my grandmother’s body when she lay expiring on the floor at Elfdale, so should I now have contemplated with feelings, I believe, very much allied to satisfaction, my father’s remains, had I been unexpectedly summoned to view them after his death.

But he lived; he had probably heard of my defiance of his injunctions, and though I was determined not to yield an inch, but to marry Clara on the appointed day, I quailed before the prospect of the struggle that awaited me. My hand shook so visibly as I buttoned my waistcoat, that I thought it advisable to remark to Benoit that it was very cold; to which he objected, au contraire, it was extremely sultry; but that, no doubt, the sudden intelligence had unnerved me.

On reaching the hotel, I learnt that two physicians had already arrived, and that my father had recovered from the fit, and had spoken—desiring that I might be sent for; which they told him they had done already. He had also expressed a wish to see a notary; but they had waited till I came, being uncertain who to send for; whereupon I desired them to fetch Monsieur Duval, both because he was near at hand; and, because he was known to me from being employed by the Wellwoods, and having had some little business to do, in connection with my approaching marriage.

When I entered my father’s room, I saw that he had been bled; the physicians were standing one on each side of the bed, watching his countenance. He opened his eyes, and a spasm passed over his features when he saw it was I. He moved his lips and slightly raised his hand to beckon me towards him. I approached and knelt down beside him. The physicians stood aside.

“Remember my curse and beware!” he murmured. “I had hoped to have explained, but you’ll find—”

His face, which had been very pale, flushed and became distorted as he uttered the last words, and the physicians stepped forward, motioning me away.

I retreated, too glad to obey them; and a silence ensued, during which a cadaverous hue succeeded to the momentary flush, and I thought his last moments had arrived. Not wishing to see him expire, I sat down at the window which was open, while the attendants applied wet cloths to his head.

Presently, M. Duval arrived, and was introduced into the room; I took him aside and explained that the patient was my father, who had had a sudden seizure, but that I feared he was not in a state to transact any business; indeed, he seemed to be dying.

“Is he sensible?” inquired the notary.

“Oh! yes,” I answered; “but the doctors won’t let him speak.”

“But if he’s dying, and has affairs unsettled!” objected the notary, taking a professional view of the case. “You had better tell him I’m here.”

So I approached the bed, and said to the physicians: “I understand my father desired to see a notary—this is Monsieur Duval, who—”

Whereupon my father opened his eyes and said:

“I must see him.”

The notary who had come provided with ink and parchment drew near.

“I hereby declare,” said my father—then there was a long pause.

“Is it a will you wish to make?” inquired Duval.

“I will and bequeath,” said my father, vacantly.

Duval tapped his own forehead, implying that he thought the head was beginning to wander.

Then after another pause during which my father appeared to be making an effort to collect his thoughts, he continued. “The marriage of my son—”

“Ah, c’est le mariage de votre fils avec Mademoiselle Wellwood, dont vous voulez parler;” interrupted the brisk little notary, drawing his pen across the words “I will and bequeath;” “J’y suis; c’est même moi qui ai fait les écrits,” which was literally true, as he had been employed to settle some little property in the French funds which her uncle had left her.

At these words of Duval’s my father raised himself in the bed by a spasmodic effort, while he extended his arm towards me, and with an expression of horror on his features, he opened his lips to speak; but the agitation, or the motion, or both, were too much for him; the blood gushed in torrents from the arm, and he fell back in a state of insensibility, from which he never returned to consciousness, but expired a few hours afterwards.

we are young, we please ourselves with imagining the delights of discovery in natural science. We paint to ourselves scenes in which the Discoverer figures,—either lighting upon a new planet among the ordinary stars, or finding a fossil which suddenly opens up to him some wild glimpse into the ancient world; or, on seeing an apple fall from a tree, perceiving why the solar system, and the whole of the boundless heavens, are what they are. All this is very natural; but it is a great mistake. Instead of Newton sitting in a corner among the learned men, and hearing with strong emotion that the real measurement of