to take charge of Felix himself, that Mignon should be taken to Theresa, and that Barbara should spend her days wherever she pleased, supported by a little pension which he proposed to settle upon her.

He accordingly sent for Mignon, that he might prepare her for the proposed change. "Master!" she said, "keep me with yourself-it will be for my advantage and for my

sorrow.'

He represented to her that she was now grown up, and that something should be done for her further education. "I am sufficiently educated," she answered, "to love and to grieve."

He reminded her that her health required attention, and that she stood in need of incessant care, and of the directions of a skilful physician. "Why should any one care for me, she replied, "when there are so many other things to care for ?"

After he had taken infinite trouble to convince her of the impossibility of her remaining with him at present, and had assured her that he would commit her to the care of some friends, where she might frequently see him, she appeared as if she had not heard a word that he had spoken. Then you will not allow me to remain with you!" she said. "Perhaps it is better then to send me to the old Harper, the poor man is so solitary."

Wilhelm endeavoured to explain to her that the old man was now in comfortable circumstances.

company every hour," replied the child.

"I long for his

"I never observed that you were so much attached to him, whilst he lived with us," said Wilhelm.

"I was afraid of him," replied Mignon, "when he was awake-I could not bear to see his eyes-but when he slept, I liked to sit beside him, and to keep the flies from him, and then I never tired of looking at him. O, he has been a comfort to me in fearful moments! No one knows how deeply I am indebted to him. If I had only known the way, I should long since have fled to him."

Wilhelm now explained his intentions fully, saying that Mignon had always been a reasonable child, and that she might, upon this occasion, do as she pleased. "O, reason is cruel," she replied, "the heart is better! But I will go wherever you wish, only leave little Felix with me."

After much discussion, she persisted in her request, and Wilhelm was obliged to consent that both children should be entrusted to old Barbara, who was to send them together to Theresa. He came to this decision the more easily, as he still feared to acknowledge the beautiful Felix as his own child. But he took him in his arms, and carried him about. The child loved to be held before the looking-glass, and Wilhelm felt a secret delight in holding him there, and in tracing a likeness between them. When he thought he had discovered a momentary resemblance, he pressed the child to his bosom, but suddenly alarmed at the thought that he might have been deceived, he would set him down and let him run away. "Alas!" he would then explain, “if I could only be certain that this priceless treasure were mine, and were it then to be taken from me, I should be the most wretched of men!"

The children were now removed, and Wilhelm determined to take a formal leave of the stage, but he felt that this had been already done, and that it only remained for him now to take his departure. Mariana was dead, his two guardian angels had gone away, and his thoughts followed them. The lovely Felix still floated like a charming but uncertain vision before his fancy, he saw him at Theresa's side, running through the fields and woods, and receiving his education in the free air, from a free and cheerful protectress; and Theresa became dearer to him than ever, as his mind dwelt upon her, in connection with his little Felix. Even as a spectator in the theatre he thought of her with smiles, and he felt that he was almost in her own condition, as theatrical representations no longer produced an illusion in his mind.

Serlo and Melina treated him with extreme politeness as soon as they observed that he made no further pretensions to resuming his former place. A portion of the public were desirous that he should appear before them again, but this was an impossibility, and of the company themselves none seemed to wish it, with the exception perhaps of Madame Melina.

Of this latter friend he now took final leave, his heart was moved, and he could not avoid exclaiming, "O, that men should ever presume to promise themselves any thing which depends upon the future! Even upon the veriest trifle they

ean place no reliance to say nothing of those things which are of importance. How do I blush to think of the promise which I made to you upon that unfortunate night when we all lay robbed, ill and wounded in that miserable tavern. How did misfortune then elevate my courage, and what resources did I not expect to find in my good intentions! but alas! they have produced nothing. I leave you as your debtor, and it is my happiness to find that none of you valued my promises beyond their worth, and that I have never since been reminded of them.'

"Do not be so unjust towards yourself," said Madame Melina, "if no other person will acknowledge what you have done for us, I at least shall never forget it; for our whole condition would have been different, if we had not possessed the advantage of your presence. It is with our intentions as with our wishes. They no longer wear the same appearance when they have been accomplished-when once fulfilled, we consider that we have obtained nothing."

"Your kind explanation," answered Wilhelm, "will scarcely suffice to tranquillize my conscience, and I shall always consider myself to be your debtor."

"It is quite possible," answered Madame Melina, that you may really be so, but not in the precise way that you suppose. We consider it disgraceful not to perform a verbal promise which we have engaged to fulfil. O, my friend, the very presence of a good man promises much. The confidence which he elicits, the attachment which he creates, the hopes which he awakens, are unbounded; he becomes our debtor and will continue so, though he be not aware of the obligation. Farewell! if our outward circumstances have been fortunately restored through your assistance, your absence will create a void in my bosom which I shall find it difficult to fill."

Before his departure from the town, Wilhelm addressed a long letter to Werner. They had already exchanged several letters, but as they had differed about several matters, their correspondence had been interrupted. But now, they were approaching nearer to each other, Wilhelm was on the point of complying with the earnest wishes of his friendhe could now say, "I am about to abandon the stage, and to associate with men whose connection will, in all respects, lead

me to commence a pure and active life. He made some inquiries about his property, and it seemed to him strange that for so long a time he should have troubled himself so little about his affairs. He knew not that it was the habit of men, who are wholly engaged in the cultivation of their minds, absolutely to neglect their outward affairs. Wilhelm had found himself in this condition, but he now began, for the first time, to recollect that in order to work effectively, he required the assistance of outward means. He pursued his journey therefore in a different temper than formerly→→→ the prospects which he saw before him were encouraging, and he hoped to meet with happiness upon his way.

CHAPTER IX.

WHEN he arrived at Lothario's castle, he found that a great change had taken place there. Jarno came to meet him with the news that Lothario's uncle had died, and that he himself had set out to take possession of his estates. "You are come," he continued, "at a fit time to render assistance to the Abbé, and to me. Lothario has commissioned me to purchase some valuable estates in the neighbourhood. The whole matter has been well considered, and we are provided with both money and credit at a most favourable moment. One circumstance, however, has occasioned some delay. A house of business, established at some distance from here, has contemplated making the same purchase, and we have resolved to enter into an agreement together, as otherwise we might perhaps outbid each other without reason or necessity. It appears that we have to deal with a clever We are at present engaged in making our estimates and calculations, and we must consider particularly how the lands are to be divided, so that each of us may possess a valuable estate. All the papers were accordingly submitted to Wilhelm-they contained an account of the fields, the meadows and the castles, and though Jarno and the Abbé appeared to be well acquainted with business, Wilhelm could

man.

not help wishing that Theresa had been called in to their assistance.

They were engaged for many days in these labours, and Wilhelm could scarcely find time to acquaint his friends with his late adventure, or with his doubtful paternity, but they treated the circumstance with the utmost indifference and levity, although it was to him an event of the greatest importance.

He now

He had frequently remarked their habit of suddenly pausing at table, or during their walks, when they entered into confidential communications together, and gave a private meaning to their words-thus shewing that they were engaged in some pursuits with which he was unacquainted. remembered what Lydia had formerly told him, and he gave credit to it all with the more confidence as one side of the castle had always been inaccessible to him. It contained some long corridors and galleries, and there was one old tower in particular, with whose exterior he was well acquainted, but to which he had long sought to obtain entrance in vain.

One evening Jarno said to him, "We now look upon you as our friend, and it would be unjust not to admit you to a fuller participation in our secrets. It is proper for a man, upon his first entrance into life, to think highly of himself, and endeavour to attain distinction, as well as conceive that all things are possible, but when his education has reached a certain point, then it is more advantageous that he should lose himself in the great mass of mankind, that he should learn to live for others, and forget himself in a course of conscientious duty. He then becomes acquainted with himself for the first time, for it is by our conduct that we are enabled to compare ourselves with others. You shall soon know what a little world there is in your immediate neighbourhood, and how intimately you are known within its limits. To-morrow morning, before sunrise, be dressed and ready."

Jarno came at the appointed hour, and conducted him through various apartments of the castle, and then passing along some narrow galleries, they arrived at length at an old and massive door, which was strongly incased with iron. Jarno knocked, the door opened a little, so that a man could just force his way in. Jarno pushed Wilhelm through the