had studied the resources of his parents, knew their kindness, felt sure of his prey while abetting the downfall.  Causing him to perpetrate the crime, from time to time, he would incite him with prospects of retrieve, guide his hand to consummate the crime again, and watch the moment when he might reap the harvest of his own infamy.  Thus, when he had brought the young man to that last pitiless issue, where the proud heart quickens with a sense of its wrongs-when the mind recurs painfully to the past, imploring that forgiveness which seems beyond the power of mankind to grant, he left him a poor outcast, whose errors would be first condemned by his professed friends.  That which seemed worthy of praise was forgotten, his errors were magnified; and the seducer made himself secure by crushing his victim, compromising the respectability of his parents, making the disgrace a forfeiture for life.

Unexpected as the shock was to Marston, he bore it with seeming coolness, as if dreading the appearance of the man who had taken advantage of the moment to bring him under obligations, more than he did the amount to be discharged.  Arising from the table, he took Lorenzo by the hand, saying:—­“Veil your trouble, Lorenzo!  Let the past be forgotten, bury the stigma in your own bosom; let it be an example to your feelings and your actions.  Go not upon the world to wrestle with its ingratitude; if you do, misfortune will befall you-you will stumble through it the remainder of your life.  With me, I fear the very presence of the man who has found means of engrafting his avarice upon our misfortunes; he deals with those in his grasp like one who would cut the flesh and blood of mankind into fragments of gain.  Be firm, Lorenzo; be firm!  Remember, it is not the province of youth to despair; be manly-manliness even in crime lends its virtue to the falling.”  At which he bid him good night, and retired to rest.

The young man, more pained at his uncle’s kindness,—­kindness stronger in its effects than reproof,—­still lingered, as if to watch some change of expression on his uncle’s countenance, as he left the door.  His face changed into pallid gloominess, and again, as if by magic influence, filled with the impress of passion; it was despair holding conflict with a bending spirit.  He felt himself a criminal, marked by the whispers of society; he might not hear the charges against him, nor be within the sound of scandal’s tongue, but he would see it outlined in faces that once smiled at his seeming prosperity.  He would feel it in the cold hand that had welcomed him,—­that had warmly embraced him; his name would no longer be respected.  The circle of refined society that had kindly received him, had made him one of its attractions, would now shun him as if he were contagion.  Beyond this he saw the fate that hovered over his father’s and his uncle’s estates;-all the filial affection they had bestowed upon him, blasted; the caresses of his beloved and beautiful sister; the shame the