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her more, if I can prevent the meet- out money. Monsieur de Granding. But how? Does Morin know mesnil writes to say that a remitof this engagement ? He trusts his tance of five thousand pounds must daughter with everything; she may instantly be sent to Rotterdam, the have done the same by him. It is amount to be placed to his credit ambition, Royalist as he is, which with the house of Van Orley and leads him, perhaps, to the hope of Company, of that city.” mingling his blood with that of these Richard Devaux made no reply ; high-born nobles. Curses on them he had risen while the other was all! The son of the old Bordeaux speaking, and now paced the room merchant is beneath their notice! with gloom upon his brow. ... I may be wrong, though ; Mo- “But,” said Monsieur Morin, rin may not be aware that this preux “ you do not hear me, my good chevalier courts his daughter! I friend. A sum of_" will see him before I decide.”

I hear you, sir,” interrupted Devaux ; “I hear you plainly ; but before we enter upon that subject, I

have something else of more importWhile Richard Devaux was de- ance to speak of.” bating within himself what course he “Of more importance !'' repeated should take to bring the question to Monsieur Morin, in surprise. issue, a visitor was announced. He At least to me,” said Devaux. had hardly time to crumple up and “Ah! that is different. Whatthrust into his pocket the letter he ever is important to you will be of had just read, when Monsieur Morin interest to me." entered. :

Richard Devaux came closer to Ah !” he exclaimed, “I see you Monsieur Morin. His cheek, usuhave dispatches for me."

ally so pale, was fushed, his lips “Which,” replied Devaux, “I trembled, and his words were hardly was about to take to your house.” articulate.

“I am glad I came. We might “Monsieur Morin," he said, “I have missed each other, and time is wish to speak to you about your precious to us both. Permit me to daughter." read them here."

The listener was astonished; but 6. Certainly..

he waited for more before he replied. Monsieur Morin was soon deeply “Yes,'' continued Devaux, “what absorbed in his letters. Richard I have to say concerns Mademoiselle Devaux tried also to occupy himself Morin—and myself. Sir, I love her ! with what was before him; but he I ask her of you in marriage." could not bend his mind to business. “Young man !" said Monsieur The knowledge he had just acquired Morin, “do you know what you distracted his thoughts from every ask?” other consideration, and he remained “Perfectly," returned Devaux. closely watching the countenance of " I repeat my request. Will you behis visitor, as if to gather from its stow on me the hand of your daughexpression something to guide him ter ?!! in the proceedings he meditated. Monsieur Morin, in his turn, asked His feverish impatience made him a question. long for the moments to begin ; but “Have you spoken to Adelaide when the time arrived, he felt it had herself ?”. come too soon. .

“I have-spoken—to her,” he • “It is much as I expected," said replied, in a faltering voice. Monsieur Morin, folding up the last " And what was her answer?” letter. “They cannot move with "You," said Devaux, evading the question, “were my father's oldest the conclusion, which you declare friend. How he prospered in life so unalterable, that you have deyou know. All he had he left to me. cided favorably for those projects I am a rich man, Monsieur Morin. which affect you more, as you allege, I can place your daughter in a posi- than any domestic interest ?" tion beyond the reach of those acci- “ Again, I cannot understand dents of fortune to which she-or you." yourself—may, in these troublous “Friends should not lightly be times be exposed. Your authority cast aside. At a time like this they would have weight against what is, may be doubly useful. My services perhaps, only the young lady's nat- have their value." ural timidity.

“You set a price upon them? “Mademoiselle Morin has then You make them the condition of a refused you."

personal alliance? It is enough. Richard Devaux remained silent. Henceforward I claim no sympathy

“Surely, my good friend,'' con- at your hands. We will at once regutinued the refugee, “ you do not late those affairs which cannot, at wish me to force my daughter's in- least, have been to your disadvanclinations. This is a passing fancy tage. And, in the first place, let us of yours, which meets with no re- return to the subject whence I started. turn. Forget it. Look rather at the A credit of five thousand pounds is state of public affairs; which, at this required for Monsieur de Grandcrisis, calls for every man's attention. mesnil on the house of Van Orley Even were my daughter so disposed, and Company, of Rotterdam. Be the thing is impossible. That sacred so good as to give the necessary diblood is not yet dry upon the execu. rections for that payment. We will tioner's axe; the stones of Paris still then go into the question of a gencry aloud for revenge; our souls are eral settlement; after which I shall all bent on one great enterprise ; and select another banker." can we turn from it at this hour to The livid hue on the face of Richthink of our own affairs ? No. I ard Devaux might have prepared say again, wake from your idle dream! Monsier Morin for any credible anAdelaide cannot be yours.”

nouncement, but not for the words “Is this, sir,” said Devaux, slow- which the former now uttered. ly, “ your final decree ?”

“I fear,” he said, “ that Monsieur As final, my friend-nay, do not de Grandmesnil must be disaplook angrily. I mean everything in pointed. I have no funds belongkindness—as final,- well, well,-iting to that gentleman in my possescannot be altered.”

sion.” And have you stated all your “Are you in your right senses?" reasons ?'' asked Devaux, with an exclaimed Monsieur Morin, starting irrepressible 'sneer, which did not to his feet. "No money that beescape the quick Frenchman's ob- longs to the Marquis de Grandmesservation. “Because,” he continued, nil? You hold at least one hundred before the latter could say a word, thousand pounds. Not to speak of "if any remain behind, they had bet- the large sums which I have deter be rendered at once, that I may posited on my own account, and on be able to meet them with some that that of others." I have to offer of my own.”

Richard Devaux laughed bitterly. " You are now speaking a lan- “A hundred thousand pounds,” he guage,said Monsieur Morin, echoed. “That, indeed, is worth (which I do not comprehend." claiming. Other large sums, too!

"Let me inake my meaning clearer Well, Monsieur Morin, when you can then. Are you sure, in coming to show me the necessary vouchers for these amounts, we will talk about A surgeon came. He felt Monmeeting your demands.".

sieur Morin's pulse, laid his hand “Heavens !”' cried Monsieur Mo- upon his breast, and closely examrin, “ do you deny the deposits ? ined his face. Do you mean—''

“Sir," he said to Devaux, “ the “I mean exactly what I say. I gentleman is dead.”' have never received a farthing from either Monsieur de Grandmesnil or yourself.”

VI. Paralyzed by the audacity of this assertion, the refugee stood like one A Few words may close this story. stricken to stone.

The projected expedition failed for Richard Devaux rang the bell. want of money. The Marquis de

"I will satisfy you that I am Grandmesnil and his son both fell at speaking by the card. Benson," the bombardment of Gertruydenhe continued, addressing the clerk berg. Adelaide Morin, taken unwho entered, “bring me the account der the protection of another refuof the Marquis de Grandmesnil.” gee family, survived her father's death " Whose, sir?"

and that of Henri de GrandmesDevaux repeated the order. nil, to whom she had been secretly

“We have no account in that married ; but she survived, happily name, sir."

for herself, without memory, save "I told you so," said Devaux, perchance those gleams whose visitacoolly, turning to Monsieur Morin. tions cannot be tracked. 66 That will do, Benson ; you may Richard Devaux never again went go. Have you any desire, Monsieur near the house of Monsieur Morin, Morin, that I should ask for your ac- which, after his death, remained uncount also?''

occupied ; but to his own house in " Traitor! Liar! Robber! All the city he went day by day, year this world shall ring with the report after year. He was the most assiduof your villainy. But I shall have ous man of business in London, and justice! I will-I will-at-Mercy! stood high in the world's estimation. What is this at my heart! Henri - He lived to be one of the richest Adel_Mon Roi!'' Morin staggered men in England, but his wealth and fell.

brought him neither happiness nor Richard Devaux bent over him for contentment. He lived amidst the a moment, and then ran to the plaudits of his fellow-men, and was door.

surrounded with every luxury that no Come here. come here, some money could command, but bereft of you. This unfortunate gentle of that peace of mind which is the man has fallen in a fit. Run for the basis of all true happiness, each day nearest surgeon. A most excitable became to him all the more intolerman, Benson. I have assisted him able, until finally broken in mind privately to a great extent. A dis- and body and filled with an undying inclination to make further advances remorse, he put an end to his miserahas completely turned his head. He ble existence with his own hand. is under the strangest delusion.”

LITERATURE AND THE ARTS AND SCIENCES IN THE

DARK AGES.

The hordes of barbarians who ment of their monasteries or the streamed down upon the civilization solitudes of their hermitages they of Rome had little thought of or still fed the spark, and protected it care for either intellectual culture from the rude northern whirlwind, or those arts and sciences which, cul. It was from this hidden source that tivated and fostered, contribute so the fair form was to come forth to much to the comfort and improve- prove her power, and the might ment of the people. Alaric with which was to overcome with wonhis Visigoths, and Attila, self-styled drous art the rude prowess of the the Scourge of God, with his Huns, sword. The necessity among the would have laughed to scorn the clergy of preserving the Latin lanmodern philosophy contained in the guage as that in which the Scriptures, euphemism, “ The pen is mightier the canons, and liturgies of the than the sword." Yet slowly but Church were written, of having a surely a power almost unknown was fixed organ of communication in paving the way for proving that order that the truths of Christianity truth, while they revered no art save might not be at the mercy of the the wielding of the sword, no science changing jargon of the various save that in which that weapon was tribes, kept flowing in the worst all-powerful.

times a slender stream, but one of Among the barbarian conquerors, living waters, which in a short time however, a singular exception to this was to prove itself a mighty river. universal ignorance and contempt But the studies of the clergy were for learning is to be found in Theo- confined, for a long time, strictly to doric, King of the Ostrogoths. He sacred subjects; there seemed to be fostered as far as he could the study an intense prejudice against secular of the ancient literature, and was learning. Gregory I, who may be the protector of Bathius, who may considered the founder of the Papal be styled the last of the classics, and supremacy, Isadore, and Alcuin, all the connecting link between the old shared this dislike. St. Benedict, in and the new periods of literature. establishing his several orders, while When his eloquence was silenced by he enjoined his brethren to read, an untimely death there was found copy, and collect books, was silent no tongue to take up the tale, the as to their nature, and this omission language of Tully and Virgil was became the means of preserving and heard no more, and long ages passed multiplying classical manuscripts. away ere learned diligence restored Good, however, grew out of this its purity. The downfall of learn- prejudice, for if the clergy had been ing after the death of Boethius was less tenacious of their Latin liturgy very rapid ; an encyclopædic method and the Vulgate translation of the of study was introduced by the few Scriptures, it is very certain all who still fed the sacred flame; but grammatical learning would have this method, by its very form, proved been lost. its weakness.

In Ireland, in the sixth century, For five long centuries the eccle- the monasteries were known as foci siastical order were almost the only of light; students flocked thither guardians of the faint flame of the from France and Italy. In England lamp of knowledge. In the retire- greater attention was paid to secular learning through the instrumentality models of purity. Schools of logic of Theodore, Archbishop of Canter- in Paris were instituted by William bury, sent there by the Pope in 668. of Champeaux in 1109. In this The Venerable Bede is the greatest century we also have Lanfranc and name in the literary annals of Eng. Anselm in theology. land at that time. Alcuin, a disciple Paris was, in the middle of the of his, with Brother Stalicius, as- twelfth century, another Athens. sisted Charlemagne to lay the foun- The number of students exceeded dations of learning, and thus dispel that of the citizens, in consequence some part of the gross ignorance of which influx Philip Augustus enwhich had enveloped his empire. larged the boundaries of the city, But the praise of establishing schools but this only increased the crowd. originally belongs to some bishops Colleges with endowments for poor and abbots of the sixth century, in scholars were established in Paris and place of the imperial schools over- Bologna about the middle of the thrown by the barbarians. Hallam thirteenth century. Andrés derives says: “In the downfall of that the institution of collegiate foundatemporal dominion a spiritual aris- tions in monasteries from the Saratocracy was providentially raised up cens. He finds no trace of them to save from extinction the remains among the ancient customs of Greece of learning and religion itself." or Rome, while in Cordova, Gra

The cathedral and conventual nada, and Malaga colleges of great schools established by Charlemagne renown existed. preserved the small portion of learn- Oxford, founded by Alfred, being which survived, and Alcuin de- came a great resort in the reign of voted himself to the restoration of Henry II, and was in the thirteenth the Latin language to grammatical century second only to the Univerpurity.

sity of Paris in the multitude of its The tenth century' is considered students and the celebrity of its the darkest of these dark ages, but scholastic disputations. In 1220 this is applicable rather to Italy and Abelard established his school of England than to Germany and rhetoric in Paris. France. Meiners tells us that, "In The institution of the mendicant no age, perhaps, did Germany pos- order of friars soon after the beginsess more learned and virtuous ning of the thirteenth century gave churchmen of the Episcopal order encouragement to the scholastic philthan in the latter half of the eleventh osophy. Not so well acquainted century.Among the most re- with grammatical literature as the nowned names were John Scotus Benedictine, less accustomed to colEregina and Gerbert.

lect and transcribe books, the disciWith the twelfth century we enter ples of Francis and Dominic betook a new era in the literary history of themselves to disputation. The greatEurope. A decided progress had est scholars of the new era were the been made in all the walks of intel- Dominican Thomas Aquinas and the lectual pursuits, and the result of this Franciscan Duns Scotus. This philprogress was the institution of uni- osophy gave rise to a great display versities, and the methods pursued in of address, subtlety, and sagacity them; the cultivation of modern in the explanation and distinction of languages, followed by the multipli- abstract ideas, but at the same time cation of books, and the extension to many trifling and minute specuof the art of writing; the investiga- lations and a contempt of positive tion and study of Roman law; and and particular knowledge, and much last, by the return to the study of unnecessary and false refinement. the Latin language in its ancient In Italy it was not till 1360 that.

lect

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