cluded it, she quaffed off the exhilarating draught. | I saw its effect at once in the proud self-consciousness of her mien. Daphne was no longer the timid, fawning sycophant; the creeping creature was suddenly gifted with wings; in anticipation she was already the wealthy bride, the reigning queen of fashion in Nocross. Daphne could now listen without a sign of disgust to suggestions which should have covered her cheeks with a flash of generous indignation; the whisper which reminded the worldly girl that the bondage of the ring, though it might prove irksome, would not last long, that the age of her suitor more than doubled her own, and that his constitution tended towards apoplexy. "And this," thought I, as Daphne quitted the room smiling and gay, with a parting glance at the mirror, "this is part of the wages for which Lowinclay is hiring himself to the service of Mammon. He is requited for his fraudulent dealings by gaining the hand of a woman who loves his gold, but despises his person; who regards him with less than indifference, and calculates upon his probable death with more than philosophy. Sin carries its own recompense with it even in this life. Bride and bridegroom will alike find that gilded fetters gall none the less for the gilding!" A seed of thistle-down was lightly floating in the perfumed air when Daphne left the apartment; a puff from Smoothaway's lips sent it quivering up to the ceiling. The action might seem insignificant, and looked merely childish, yet to me it was not without meaning, a meaning connected with the vain worldly being whom the flatterer's lips had deceived. It is but thistledown that is sent up so lightly by a mere breath; but the fragile thing bears a seed, and into what may that seed develop ! CHAPTER XVI. THE HIRELING SHEPHERD. "The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed."-MILTON. A HANDSOME, gentlemanly man, in the prime of life, now entered the room. I had never seen him before, and yet his face was not unfamiliar. I soon recollected that I had noticed photographs of that fine countenance in several shop-windows beside that of the great Impostor of Nocross, and that these photoes had represented him in clerical robes: I therefore entertained no doubt that I now saw before me him whom I had heard spoken of as Love-ease, the rector. What kind of man should he be who could be content to remain a minister at Nocross, and a friend of Self-deception ?-for the doctor greeted the new-comer as a personal friend. I should have expected to have seen in the rector of Nocross some bloated sensualist-as some monks of the Middle Ages are represented by pencil and penbattening on the superstition of those scarcely more ignorant than himself. Very different indeed was the person whom now I beheld. I saw one eminently graceful and attractive in person; betraying in manner, perhaps, a slight consciousness that he was so, but otherwise every inch a gentleman, with mien and address not unbefitting a minister of the gospel. "You have come, doubtless, to speak to me about the new picture-gallery?" began Smoothaway, when, after cordially shaking hands with him, his visitor had taken a seat; or perhaps to arrange about our parts in the amateur concert which we are getting up to fill our oriel-window with stained glass? It is a refreshing breathingtime to me when I pause in the midst of my medical labours to converse with my friend; for friend I am proud to call him who combines the eloquence of a gifted preacher with every accomplishment which can throw a charm over social life." No doubt Love-ease was well accustomed to receive compliments such as this; not always audible to the outer ear, but conveyed in that subtle form of flattery which needs not to shape itself into speech. Self-deception never shocks or offends by his praises, however lavishly he may bestow them, and however unworthy their subject may be. I observed that he placed a small ornamental box of sweetmeats within reach of his visitor's hand. The box contained mere honey-drops, and not medicine-only lozenges to strengthen the voice. Does not every one who speaks in public know by experience how great their effect? They are pleasant enough to the palate; and what harm can there be in a lozenge? Yet let preachers, above all men, beware of tast ing honey-drops from the laboratory of Smoothaway.* Love-ease, by a graceful movement of his head, gave a negative reply to the doctor's guesses regarding the cause of his visit, and Smoothaway went on with his flattering speeches. "Then I daresay that you have come to give your private opinion on the design for that piece of plate which is to be presented to you by your admiring and grateful parishioners? The figures of the three Christian Graces seem to you—as I confess that they do to me-rather too close imitations of the well-known group of the classic Graces there is want of originality in the drawing. But they are pretty-remarkably pretty; and the idea is clever-very clever.” claimed Smoothaway, with enthusiasm. "If I envy you one thing more than another-you who give us all so many temptations to envy—it is your wonderful musical talent. I never at the opera itself heard a voice of richer tone than yours; and your touch on the violoncello is that of a master. I understand that that instrument is but one of many on which you perform to the admiration of all who are privileged to hear you." "I have from my childhood had a passion for music," said Love-ease. Apparently unconsciously he was drawing back towards himself the box of honeyed sweets; and he now took, without looking at it, one of the lozenges which it contained. "Nothing is more elevating or refining to human nature than a taste for music," observed Smoothaway. "It ought to be received as a gift, and cultivated as a talent.” I had before observed that the great Imposter often spoke the truth when he most insidiously sought to deceive. The arrow of falsehood never flies further nor strikes deeper than when it is tipped with a truth. Intuitively the rector pushed from him the Smoothaway, with animation. "You have given lozenge-box which lay so temptingly near. "I thought that you had an air of depression when you entered," said the doctor, with an air of concern. "The health and the spirits are closely connected. Yours is a sensitive nature; to such the merest trifle may become a serious burden." "Let me "Perhaps you may regard what has occurred as a trifle in its relation to myself; but it does not appear so to me," said the rector. relate what has happened. I passed yesterday evening at the residence of Madame à la Mode, where I am, as you know, a very frequent guest. I had to practise for the concert with the fair Stella and two or three others." "Ah, those charming musical reunions!" ex * Like the pious clergyman who, when a lady had said to him, "What a beautiful sermon you gave us to-day!" made reply, "The devil said just the same thing to me while I was in the pulpit." pleasure to hundreds; you have delighted a large circle of friends; and by the attraction of your society you have won many to value you—” "As a companion-not as a pastor," said th minister gravely. "Why, my dear sir, what can have put suc gloomy views into your mind?" exclaimed Selfdeception. "I should have expected such remark from a Puritan preacher, a ranting Dissenter; but from the popular, the polished, the gifted rector- the wit, the musician, the artist the " "Enough of all this!" cried Love-ease, again pushing away the box of sweet poison. “I was about to relate the incident which occurred last night, which proved to me that not all of my parishioners are convinced that conversational talents or love of the fine arts qualify a man for the cure of souls. CHAPTER XVII. THE DEATH-BED. Curse ye Meroz," said the angel of the Lord.* What has Meroz done?—Nothing. Why, then, is Meroz to be cursed?-Because Meroz did nothing. What ought Meroz to have done?-Come to the help of the Did the Lord, then, sustain loss?-No; but Meroz did. Is it right that a man should be cursed for doing nothing?— Yes, when he ought to do something. "I was returning home after the rehearsal," resumed Love-ease, after a pause, "humming to myself an opera air, when, passing through the lowest street in Nocross-a street which I own that I seldom care to enter the door of one of the houses was suddenly opened, and a woman clad in dirty tatters rushed forth. I was then passing one of the street lamps, and its light fell full on my face, so that the woman at once recognized me. It's the parson himself!' she cried, in the tone of one who has unexpectedly come upon some one of whom she was about to go in search. Oh! come in, sir-come in! my husband is so ill! He has not many hours to live, and he should see a minister before he dies.'' So even in Nocross (thought I in my trance) there is some acknowledgment that religion is needed when soul is about to be severed from body. But if Self-deception were to stand by the death-bed, he would assuredly turn the most sacred forms of religion into a means of lulling conscience into its last fatal sleep. "I could not refuse to go," said Love-ease, pursuing his narration, "for the woman's grasp was upon my arm, and there was terrible anxiety depicted on the worn and haggard features which I beheld by the lamp-light. I followed her into the wretched dwelling, and up the dark narrow stair, stumbling on the broken steps, which seemed ready to give way under my tread. The offensive atmosphere of the place gave me a sensation of suffocation." It was evident that the rector of Nocross was far more accustomed to tread the soft carpets of his wealthy parishioners than the bare and dirty floors of the poor. "The scene within the room which I entered * Judges v. 23. baffles description," Love-ease went on, an expression of pain and disgust passing over his handsome features. Forget it," interrupted Self-deception. "I cannot forget it," murmured Love-ease, passing his hand over his eyes. "I see now the half-naked children crouching together in a corner; the wizened baby lying on a heap of dirty rags on the floor; the light of one guttering candle falling on the-I cannot call it death-bed, for bed there was none-but the filthy sacking on which lay the gaunt frame of a man smitten down in his strength by loathsome disease. The scene haunts me like a horrible dream." "Doubtless you had entered the den of some wretched drunkard-some outcast from society," observed Smoothaway. Without noticing the interruption, Love-ease went on with his narration,— "On my entrance the sick man started up into a half-sitting posture, the agony caused by his disease giving him unnatural strength. 'Who is he what does he come for?' he exclaimed sharply, pointing with emaciated finger towards the place where I stood. 'It is the clergyman you know, my dear,' replied the wife, in a soothing voice. Know him! I don't know him, and he don't know me,' exclaimed the sick man, glaring upon me fiercely with bloodshot eyes. While he has been laughing and singing and feasting with the folk in silk and satin who go to his church to hear how easy a thing it is for the rich to get to heaven, what cared he who worked, or thieved, or starved in a filthy den like this? Get away with ye!' cried the wretch; adding, with a frightful oath, 'We'll meet soon enough in another place; 'twill be a better place than manner most imposing-services attended by all the most respectable inhabitants of Nocross. Your music is fine and as for your sermons, they are models of elegant composition; few preachers have ever given to a congregation more poetical ideas and richer flowers of rhetoric." I do not wonder (thought I in my trance) that the ignorant sinner did not attend the church at Nocross to have the soul's hunger fed on flowers of rhetoric or poetical fancies. Had Love-ease preached the simple gospel, "as a dying man to dying men," he would have found willing listeners amongst the poorest; and such of his flock as he could not reach from the pulpit, be would have sought out in their miserable homes. "Did you not quit at once the den of wickedness in which you had been so grossly insulted?" asked the doctor. tinued Love-ease."I had never before so stood face to face with misery, sin, and death, and I had not so much as uttered a word either of re buke or of comfort; dumbness had chained my tongue, that tongue which men call so eloquent." "And with such justice," interpolated Smoothaway; but Love-ease, for once, did not stop to listen to the flatterer's voice. 'I actually turned back before I had gone a hundred yards down that street. I knew that that man might be dead before morning. I should-I must-see him again that night. I asked myself whether I should be able to find out the house in the darkness: I would fain have answered 'No' to the question; but this I could not, for I remembered that it stood exactly opposite to the gin-palace, whose flaring light I saw before me. Dragged on, as it were, by the force of an uneasy conscience, I slowly, unwillingly returned on my steps. As I approached the place where I had first been stopped by the woman, I saw a female form cross the street from the house in which lay the dying man, to the gin-palace on the opposite side of the way. "The misery which I saw around me oppressed me, disturbed my conscience," replied the rector. "I could not grapple with the vice, but the poverty I might relieve; for my own peace I must do so. I drew out half a sovereign, thrust it hastily into the hand of the woman, and promising that I would return the next day, II recognized the figure clad in rags of her who, stumbled down the dark staircase, and groped my way back into the street. I could not breathe freely till I found myself once more in the open air." "With the satisfaction of knowing that your liberality had relieved a case of real want," said the doctor. "I had no satisfaction-none," cried Love-ease. "That half-sovereign had been given partly as a salve to conscience, partly to smooth my own exit from that miserable place. With darkness around me, the clear stars above, and the remembrance of that painful scene on my mind, thoughts forced themselves on me that I would have willingly banished; but they clung to me as a heavy burden, which I had no power to shake off." "Is this, then, another Christian crying out, 'What must I do to be saved?'" said I to myself in my dream. "Oh, why does he come for the answer to Self deception, when the wicketgate is open still to whomsoever shall knock?" "I thought how fearful a thing it is for a pastor to have the blood of souls on his head!" con some ten minutes before, had implored me to see her dying husband. She was seeking no clergyman now; the one who might have ministered to a departing soul had but come to place in her hands the means of stifling a guilty conscience!" "Nay, nay," interrupted Self-deception; "you had placed in the woman's hands the means of satisfying the wants of a sufferer; you had fed the hungry, you had clothed the naked. If the worthless recipient of your bounty misused your gift, the sin was hers, not yours. Did you go on to the house?" "No; I turned back again," replied Love-ease; "I was utterly discouraged and disheartened, and walked rapidly home to my dwelling. I had an insurmountable repugnance to visiting the sick man again. I contented myself on the following morning with sending a servant with soup to his lodging. She found the man dead, and the woman drunk!" Love-ease uttered the last sentence in a tone of emotion. The rector of Nocross, self-indulgent and superficial as he might be, had a feeling heart after all! softly, "why should you suffer the crimes and miseries of such degraded creatures as these to weigh at all on your spirits? These scenes are sad, no doubt—both sad and shocking; but they occur every day, and to sit down and moan over them is sentimental folly." "Yes," thought I, "to sit down and moan, instead of being up and doing, is folly, and something worse." "You give to every person in Nocross the opportunity of hearing you preach; if any one come not, the loss is his you have discharged your duty. Not even a St. Paul could move with his eloquence every sinner who heard him; to some, you remember, even his preaching was as a savour of death." members of the rector's congregation were dis- I would fain have burst the spell of catalepsy which bound me, if but for a few minutes, to relieve my heart by giving vent to the indignation which swelled within it. Self-deception, presumptuous, profane! dost thou dare to speak of the self-pleasing, self-glorifying work of the sinner before thee, in the same breath with that of a Paul! Where are the unwearied labours, the faithful reproofs, the exhortations in season and out of season, the spending and being spent, the consecration of every talent to one great end, which marked the service of the apostle? Where is the power of the "love of Christ" which " straineth" heard on the lips, seen in the life, felt in the yearning after lost souls ? Has this popular orator, this pleasant man of the world, ever realized, even for a moment, the course set, not be--occasionally glanced at the mirror on the wall con fore ministers alone, but every servant of Christ? "His grace my strength, my guide His word, in front of his seat. Certainly Self-deception is an accomplished adept in the art of ridding his patients of scruples. "I have been encroaching too long on your valuable time," said Love-ease, rising at last with the courteous grace which became him so well; "and I have been robbing you of your sweets," be added with a smile, as he glanced at the halfemptied box. But my tongue was silent; a chain, as of death, was upon it, and in the meantime that of Selfdeception was eloquent indeed. Gradually, with consummate art, he softened down, he smoothed away every scruple which Conscience had raised. The great Impostor then led the conversation to the last sermon which he had heard from the rector of Nocross; "that exquisite discourse," as he called it, "upon the effect of Christianity upon the fine arts, which surpassed anything which Bossuet ever had preached." Then, from the subject of sermons, the conversation insensibly flowed into a different channel-the characters of various | admiring hearers." "As the bee robs the plant of its honey, in order to store it up for the benefit of mankind," replied Smoothaway blandly. "I pray you to take the box of voice-lozenges with you. I speak from self-interest," he added, smiling, "since I am one of your most constant, I may add most |