and a clime he dreaded, an unknown exile, a positive beggar, shrinking from the scorn of the ignorant and the cold-heartedness of those above them, he had yet found some who had held out "the right hand of fellowship" with a generosity beyond his hopes and almost his wants. If services forgotten by himself were so remembered by the generous Granard as, in a great measure, to reinstate him in rank and consideration, and eventually to add the blessings of love and the gifts of fortune to the exiled wanderer, returning him to his country, with power to claim his rights, improve his property, and maintain his ancestorial dignity, surely at the present time England and its glorious immunities would be more valuable than they had ever been. He came now not a beggar, but a lord, if not of comparative wealth with her rich nobility, yet with enough and to spare; for his means far exceeded his wants, and both hand and heart were "open as day to melting charity," profoundly grateful, and inflexibly just.
But, alas! he was a widower and childless. England would protect him from evil—she would endow him with liberty—she would receive him as a son to her maternal bosom, and bless him with the Christian privileges which the bigotry of his still lamented wife had taught him to estimate so highly, but she could not restore the past. His fair Margarita was wedded to the cold grave, and her beloved Glentworth (the man of his own heart's exceeding
