The Ordeal of Richard Feverel

ution, seems a sad downfall if we forget what human nature, in its green weedy spring, is composed of. Young Richard had quitted his cousin Austin fully resolved to do hi

is not made in a minute. Enough that the seed was in him. He chafed on his road to Raynham at the scene he had just endured, and the figure of Belthorpe's fat tenant burnt like hot copper on the

up to his room to dress. Accident, or design, had laid the book of Sir Austin's aphori

o his vomit: the Lia

jected in pencil: "T

rs feeling that his father

ot look, and sat conning his plate, an abject copy of Adrian's succulent air at that employment. How could

s dreams, and was spared both by Algernon and Adrian. One inconsequent dream he related, about fancying himself quite young and rich, and finding himself suddenly in a field cropping razors around him, when, just as he ha

even from a razor-prop. Was not Hippias's dream the very counterpart of Richard's position? He, had he looked narrowly, might have taken the clear path: he, too, had been making dainty steps till he was surrounded b

er foolish: but that paternal pressure of his hand was eloquent to him of how warmly he was beloved. He tried once or twice to steal his hand away, conscious it was melting him. The spirit of his pride, and old rebellion, whispered him to be hard, unbending, resolute. H

ht against it, for the dignity of old rebellion. The tears would come; hot and struggling over the dams of pride. Shamefully fast they began

stin Wentworth, and Algernon Feverel

ngers, through which to gaze on his blundering kinsmen. Careless as one may be whose sagacity has foreseen, and whose benevolent efforts have forestalled,

ichard were t

n summed and considered these matters, and barely listened when the baronet called attention to what he had to say: which was elaborately to inform all present, what all present very well knew, that a rick had been fir

wn to Belthorpe, his son likewise: and that he had

l had been down to Belthorpe: all save the wise youth Adrian, who, with due deference and a sarcastic shrug, objected to the proceeding, as putting them in the hands of the man Blaize. His wisdom shone forth in an oratio

isdom, Adrian Harley.

to counteract the just working of the law was doing right. T

id he, "that Blaize consents

ked. "Confound him! he'll have his m

delicate customers to deal with.

," said the baronet

the more. Adrian perceived a reserve in the boy's manner, and as he was not quite satisfied that his chief should suppose him to have been the only idle, a

murmured Richard, and reli

him with a distinct and satisfactory

said R

rels joined in

om his father, and rep

ired Adrian, smoothing

he boy c

ongly at having evoked it, and turned upon Austin Wentworth, reproving him for inducing the boy to

his duty to go

d the baronet

are delicate customers to deal with. For my part I would prefer being in the hands of a police

uld transport

on, too much importance to Richard's complicity. The man was a fool, and a very extraordinary arsonite, to have an accomplice at all. It was a thing unknown in the annals of rick-burning. But one would be severer than law itself to say that a boy of fo

ith his customary directnes

te my son. Seldom have I heard anything that so gratified me. It is a view of innate nobleness in the rustic's character which many a gentleman might take example from. We are bound to

the tampering with the witnesses, and the Bantam's "Not upon oath!" which caused Adrian to choke with laughter. Even

distinction into a difference is the natural action of their minds. I wi

er go forth. Adrian,

The affair would pass over to-morrow-Blaize has no witne

s not that. I'm sure he believes his witnes

ian put it boldly. "The groun

is word there had been nothing of the sort, he

"you had better stop

ntrapped. He had only been given to understand that the witnesses were tolerably unstable, and, like the Bantam, ready to swear lustily, but not

of some one running behind him. It was dark, and he shook off the

ard panting. "Pardon me.

e baronet, putting

was my fault, sir. I-I lied to him-the Liar must eat his Lie. Oh, forgive me for disgracing yo

ait for you here,

t gave nature a tongue. Through the desolation flying overhead-the wailing of the Mother of Plenty across the bare-swept land-he caught intelligible signs of the beneficent order of the universe, from a heart newly confirmed in its grasp of the

te-book: "There is for the mind but one grasp of happiness: from that uppe