"Perhaps after conversing with herself you may be better able to judge of her present condition," replied Mr. Seymour, as he conducted him to his wife's private sitting-room.

There he left him, thinking that Mrs. Seymour might be induced to speak more freely if unrestrained by the presence of a third person. In about three-quarters of an hour he returned, and found her looking more cheerful and animated than she had been for some time.

"Dr. Leslie thinks these foreign posts are very irregular, and not at all to be depended upon," said she, addressing him with a smile as he entered.

"Does he?" answered her husband, feigning to treat the doctor's opinion with profound respect.

"Yes; and he has been recommending me to give up writing to Herbert. It will be far better, he says, for us to go ourselves in search of him."

"Go in search of him!" involuntarily echoed Mr. Seymour, stepping back a pace, and hiding his face from the light.

What a pang rent his heart at this casual mention of Herbert's name!

"Do you approve of this arrangement, my dear?" pursued his wife, twisting herself round in her chair, so as to read the answer in his countenance.

"I am ready to do anything that is likely to give you pleasure," he replied, gently touching her hand, but without raising his eyes.

"I thought you would say so," was her grateful response, accompanied by a glance of affection; "still, it may be inconvenient for you to go to the Continent just now," she added, doubtfully. "By no means," hastily interposed Mr. Seymour; "there is nothing whatever to prevent our setting out immediately, if you feel so disposed."

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The lady's eyes grew bright and hopeful, and she hastened away to communicate the good news to Willson, nothing doubting that by following the sympathising doctor's suggestion they would soon succeed in gaining some satisfactory and reliable intelligence respecting their truant son.

Mr. Seymour's feelings may be easier conceived than described when at length they turned their backs on Leamington for the purpose of commencing a search which would, he knew, only end in sorrow and disappointment.

Husband and wife presented a curious contrast: the one going forth so cheerful and sanguine, unvisited by a single fear or misgiving as to the result of their wanderings; the other so full of deep though silent dejection and agonising remorse because of his past and known trials, and gloomy forebodings regarding the future; and yet compelled to assume a composure which he could not feel, and make a pretence of participating in all those pleasant anticipations by which the poor lady was at this time fortunately animated, lest his apparent apathy should lead her to suspect that all was not right.

The roving and unsettled life they were obliged henceforward to follow proved peculiarly distasteful to Mr. Seymour, but he bore its varied annoyances and inconveniences with characteristic consistency, never allowing a complaint to escape his lips, even at the worst seasons, or a frown to appear on his countenance, when hearing of the wildest and most impracticable of his wife's vagaries.

It became increasingly evident to him each day that what the doctor had said about Mrs. Seymour's mind being incapable of retaining more than one idea at a time was perfectly correct.

So long as that idea lasted (whether for minutes or months), it reigned predominant, and was clung to with the greatest pertinacity; but directly a new fancy was conceived within her brain, the former one was set aside, or forgotten, and every other subject remained in abeyance.

Mr. Seymour's naturally proud and reserved disposition often received a severe shock-albeit he bore even this with Spartan inflexibility-by the familiar and unconstrained manner in which she made a point of explaining to any chance acquaintance her object in travelling, and the indiscriminate way she had of asking advice as to the best mode of prosecuting their search.

In fact, so eager and persistent did she become in her inquiries that Mr. Seymour very soon began to repent of having followed Dr. Leslie's suggestion, and would thankfully have returned home with her, could he have persuaded her to give up the pursuit.

As, however, this was out of the question, he saw nothing for it but to push on, trusting that, under any circumstances, his own watchfulness and circumspection might be sufficient to prevent her from becoming acquainted with that part of her son's history which it would only pain and distress her to know.

He had need of all his vigilance, for on more than one occasion they found themselves accidentally stopping at the very same hotel which had been patronised by Herbert and his companions some years before, and Mrs. Seymour's repeated questions would certainly have drawn from the attentive landlord everything that transpired during their stay, as well as the precise date of their visits, had not her husband taken the precaution of warning him, sub rosa, against such explicitness, and furnishing him with information which would enable him to answer her inquiries in a tolerably satisfactory manner.

One day they happened to be driving in an open carriage through the streets of Paris, when Mrs. Seymour suddenly started from her seat, and, in an eager, excited voice, desired the coachman to stop. She was instantly obeyed: the thorough-bred horses stood still, and the footman alighting came forward to receive his orders.

Mrs. Seymour pointed impatiently to the carriage door, and as soon as he had opened it she sprang out without giving him time to let down the steps, brushed past him, and was lost in the surrounding crowd of gay Parisians.

Her husband swiftly followed and overtook her. Not in time, however, to prevent her stepping up to a fashionably attired young Frenchman, whom (from having obtained a very imperfect view of him) she had evidently mistaken for her son.

"Herbert!" she exclaimed, laying her hand upon his arm.

The young man looked carelessly round on being thus unceremoniously addressed, thereby revealing, much to her surprise and disappointment, and Mr. Seymour's mortification, the features of a total stranger!

So engrossed was the poor lady with her own feelings, that it did not occur to her to offer any explanation of her conduct; but Mr. Seymour, in a few concise words, soon made the gentleman, who was all smiles and politeness, understand that it was a case of mistaken

identity, and, with a vivacious and complimentary response and succession of polished bows, he pursued his way, while the others returned to their carriage.

"I thought it was he," said Mrs. Seymour, in rather a peevish tone, as she sank back among the cushions; and her husband began, sub silentio, to wonder whether this first discouragement would have the effect of deterring her from again repeating the experiment.

It had not.

The following day saw a repetition of the same scene, though the results were somewhat different.

This time it was no foreigner, but a young and handsome Englishman, whom Mrs. Seymour singled out as Herbert in propria persona, and him she accordingly accosted.

He started out of a reverie, shook off her hand with a slight gesture of annoyance, and regarded her for an instant in mingled astonishment and haughty reserve. Then his manner underwent a sudden change; the proud aspect of his countenance softened, and a pleasant smile came to his lips as he inquired, while civilly raising his hat,— "Is there any way in which I can serve you?"

"Oh, I beg your pardon," replied Mrs. Seymour, now conscious of her error; "I mistook you for my son."

"Indeed," returned the stranger, irresistibly won by her soft and gentle tones; "I am sorry to have been the unintentional means of causing you any disappointment."

"I suppose you do not happen to have seen him?" added the anxious mother, a ray of hope crossing her mind just as she was in the act of turning away.

Mr. Seymour joined them in time to hear the reply,

"I hardly think it probable; but if you will inform me of his name I shall be able to speak with certainty."

"His name!" looking somewhat surprised. complacent voice, "I have not mentioned it. Mr. Herbert Seymour!"

"Oh, to be sure," in a He is called Seymour

"What! of Mertonsville Park?" exclaimed the gentleman, coming a step nearer, and fixing his eyes upon her with an expression of awakened interest, "in shire?"

"I told you, my dear," said Mrs. Seymour, in a confidential aside to her husband, "that we should soon obtain some news of him. This is, I am persuaded, one of his intimate friends, who will doubtless be able to inform us of his whereabouts."

"Don't expect too much," began Mr. Seymour, in a persuasory tone; and, accustomed though he was to repress every emotion, he could with the greatest difficulty control his agitation at this trying and critical moment. "If you let me conduct you to the carriage," he went on, becoming more and more earnest and urgent, "I will return and question this gentleman as to the extent of his knowledge."

But the poor lady was too much enraptured with the discovery which she had, or fancied she had made, that she paid no heed whatever to his suggestion.

Again addressing herself, therefore, to the stranger, she said,— "You are right, sir, we do reside at Mertonsville; but as my son has been for a considerable time absent from us, we are beginning to feel somewhat uneasy about him, and are now in search of him."

"In search of him!" echoed the young man, gazing at her in the

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greatest amazement; excuse me for asking such an impertinent question, madam, but are you really Mrs. Seymour-his mother?"

Certainly," she answered, laughing and growing facetious in the plenitude of her joy; "and this," pointing to her husband, “is Mr. Seymour-his father!"

"Ah!" And the stranger's gaze was instantly transferred from herself to him.

A look of excessive perplexity crossed his features as he marked the shade of pensive thought which sat upon Mr. Seymour's once haughty brow; he had fully expected to see something different, and appeared at a loss to reconcile what he now beheld with the information he had previously received regarding his character.

"We have not yet the pleasure of knowing your own name," observed the other, getting very restless and embarrassed under the young man's prolonged scrutiny.

"Here is my card, sir,"-taking one from his pocket, and presenting it to Mr. Seymour.

"Mr. Cleveland," read the latter aloud; adding involuntarily, and with compressed lips, "a friend of Reginald Grafton's."

"You are mistaken, sir!" was the emphatic and somewhat proud reply; "that is a privilege I have neither the wish nor the right to claim !"

"Indeed!" said Mr. Seymour, in great amazement: "I was led to understand-"

There he stopped, remembering that he was verging towards forbidden ground.

"I fancied I had explained all this to you," pursued Mr. Cleveland, "when I did myself the honour of writing to thank you for the cordial invitation you gave me to visit you at Mertonsville, and to assign a reason for my declining at the last moment to avail myself of it; but, perhaps, after the lapse of so long a time, you may have forgotten the purport of a letter which, from your not having condescended to answer it, probably contained

"I have no recollection of ever receiving a letter from you on any subject," hastily affirmed Mr. Seymour; "certainly not on this; for I was told that the sudden illness of one of your nearest relatives had obliged you to hasten home without a moment's delay, and that you had therefore empowered my nephew and his friend, Mr. Vernon, to explain to me the cause of your absence."

"What a base subterfuge!" exclaimed the young man, in accents of disdain; "but," lifting his hat, and tossing back his thick brown hair, "it's just like them! I wonder, however, at their being able to suppress my letter," he continued, musingly, "as I was not aware they knew I had written it."

"But what has all this to do with Herbert ?" demanded Mrs. Seymour, waxing impatient. "You know him, do you not?" Mr. Cleveland bowed.

"And can you tell us where we shall be likely to find him?" "Is he not still at Lan

"I really cannot allow you to stand here a moment longer, my dear," eagerly interrupted Mr. Seymour; "you will be quite ill."

And ere she could divine his purpose he had drawn her hand through his own arm, and was leading her to the carriage, which was now almost close to them.

"Just one moment," she pleaded, looking appealingly back at the young man. "What place did you say?"

"I will ascertain that for you presently," whispered her husband, in a subdued tone.

Aloud he continued,—“ I am sure when Mr. Cleveland knows you are far from strong, he will forgive you for leaving him thus abruptly.” "But I must see him again," persisted the lady, pausing with her oot on the carriage step.

"I was about to ask him," glancing inquiringly at the young man, who seemed quite at a loss to account for this strange conduct, "whether he could favour us with his company at dinner this evening."

Mr. Cleveland's eyes looked a refusal; but the lady's earnest “Yes, do come-I shall be so glad to see you," made him bow his acceptance, instead of adhering to his first intention.

"I will give him our address, and be back in an instant," said Mr. Seymour, after carefully assisting his wife into the carriage, and signing to the footman to close the door.

And with this as an excuse he drew Mr. Cleveland aside, saying, in a voice of deep and important meaning,—

“I am most anxious to have half an hour's conversation with you before you again see Mrs. Seymour. Would it be possible for you to meet me?

“Certainly; my hotel is close at hand, and I shall be quite at your service whenever you are disposed to call," said the other, promptly anticipating his wishes.

"Thank you," returned Mr. Seymour, cordially extending his hand; "I shall not fail to take advantage of your obliging permission."

Then elevating his voice, in order that Mrs. Seymour might hear, and resuming his usual manner, he smilingly added,—

“Well, I will not detain you-we shall meet at dinner-au revoir." "Au revoir."

And Mr. Cleveland again lifted his hat to the lady, and passed on in one direction, while the Seymours rapidly drove to their own apartments at hotel.

The promised visit was soon paid; and an explanation being entered into between the two gentlemen, it proved painfully interesting to them both.

Mr. Seymour's heart was too full for words when made acquainted with the circumstances attending Mr. Cleveland's first and last interview with Herbert, and told of Reginald Grafton's despicable double-dealing and treachery (in having thus surreptitiously visited Herbert Cottage, though he afterwards assured him most solemnly that he had neither seen nor heard of his cousin since the day they parted at B several years before); whilst Mr. Cleveland's anger at the suppression of his letter was swallowed up in sorrow as Mr. Seymour, with pale face, and terribly agitated manner, went on to tell him of his son's melancholy end, and the sad effect which it had produced upon Mrs. Seymour's constitution; and earnestly besought him to avoid saying anything in her presence which might be calculated to arouse her dormant faculties, and recall the bitterness of the past to her recollection.

Mr. Cleveland, touched with genuine pity and compassion for the unhappy man's sufferings, readily promised to act with caution. And