made for men of sense to do what they will with. Its affairs cannot be
better than in the direction of the genuine heroes; and as in the end
they will be found the truest friends of the whole, so the multitude
have nothing to do but to look on, be fashioned, and admire."

Mr. Falkland made a powerful effort to recover his tranquillity.
"Williams," said he, "you instruct me well. You have a right notion of
things, and I have great hopes of you. I will be more of a man; I will
forget the past, and do better for the time to come. The future, the
future is always our own."

"I am sorry, sir, that I have given you pain. I am afraid to say all
that I think. But it is my opinion that mistakes will ultimately be
cleared up, justice done, and the true state of things come to light, in
spite of the false colours that may for a time obscure it."

The idea I suggested did not give Mr. Falkland the proper degree of
delight. He suffered a temporary relapse. "Justice!"--he muttered. "I do
not know what is justice. My case is not within the reach of common
remedies; perhaps of none. I only know that I am miserable. I began life
with the best intentions and the most fervid philanthropy; and here I
am--miserable--miserable beyond expression or endurance."

Having said this, he seemed suddenly to recollect himself, and
re-assumed his accustomed dignity and command. "How came this
conversation?" cried he. "Who gave you a right to be my confidant? Base,
artful wretch that you are! learn to be more respectful! Are my passions
to be wound and unwound by an insolent domestic? Do you think I will be
an instrument to be played on at your pleasure, till you have extorted
all the treasures of my soul? Begone, and fear lest you be made to pay