meditation, calling to mind when and where he saw his brother last.
The recollection gave him fresh cause of regret. He remembered they
had parted on his refusing to suffer Lady Clementina to admit the
acquaintance of Henry's wife. Both Henry and his wife he now
contemplated beyond the reach of his pride; and he felt the meanness
of his former and the imbecility of his future haughtiness towards
them.

To add to his self-reproaches, his tormented memory presented to him
the exact countenance of his brother at their last interview, as it
changed, while he censured his marriage, and treated with disrespect
the object of his conjugal affection. He remembered the anger
repressed, the tear bursting forth, and the last glimpse he had of
him, as he left his presence, most likely for ever.

In vain he now wished that he had followed him to the door--that he
had once shaken hands and owned his obligations to him before they
had parted. In vain he wished too, that, in this extreme agony of
his mind, he had such a friend to comfort him, as Henry had ever
proved.



CHAPTER IX.



The avocations of an elevated life erase the deepest impressions.
The dean in a few months recovered from those which his brother's
departure first made upon him: and he would now at times even