terror; his lips parted-eager to utter a name long consigned to oblivion.

"Donald!"

"Mother!"

The mother and her son were together once more. The mother and son, long lost, gazed on each other, gasping, unable to speak. The mother's arms stretched towards her son, inviting a son's fond embrace.

He stood motionless.

She rushed forward, embraced him tenderly, exclaiming,—

"My Donald! my son! Is it not to console me that you are come? Oh, bless me now, my son! I am wretched-desolate! Yes-you will repent for the past. God will forgive you. I will love you as fondly as ever. My son, bless your afflicted mother, and God will bless you for ever."

The Jesuit made no reply; he was regaining his self-possession. The mother began to feel his coldness.

"What! my son, silent? Why is your heart voiceless? Do you not love your mother?"

She disengaged her arms, stepping back, but still gazing on her obdurate son.

With eyes downcast, he solemnly said,—

"Mother, the will of God has been accomplished in me. I have obeyed the call of Heaven. Wherefore was I born, but to seek, and find, and obey that crying voice which commands us to leave all in order to gain all-that all, eternal life? Bitter is

the pang to those whom nature inclines us to love; but Christ overcame nature, and commands us to do likewise..... I have remembered you, mother: my prayers for you have ascended without ceasing. I have not ceased to love you; I love you still; and may that love enable me to console you now and for ever. I am ready to die, if my death would ensure your salvation, for which I constantly pray.'

Mrs. Malcolm had listened with difficulty to this address the heart of the mother was chilled; the allusion conveyed in the last sentence fired her indiguation. She was herself again.

"Wretched man!" she exclaimed; "then you are confirmed in guilt! You have grown bald in your iniquity, to blast my aged eyes with the sight of those rags that cloak the sons of Belial! Fortify me, oh Lord God of my fathers!.... Would that you had died in the womb, mother's shame as you are!—your father's murderer! and now, what? Yes, Fraser is the name-you are the man. You have pierced your mother's heart with endless anguish. From the moment of your transgression, I have not ceased to weep, to pray for you; but God hath rejected you,-you were unworthy a mother's prayers. You had steeped your soul in the dregs of wicked cunning-Satan's own arts; God had nothing in you.

"I adopted your cousin, the last remnant of our family; and you, the son of my own breast, with blackest envy, envied God his soul. You have perverted him. Oh God! and you made him for

AN ANNOUNCEMENT.

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swear himself. You have deprived a poor girl of her senses, to howl in the wilderness of the heart, and curse your evil deeds. Yes, Fraser is the name; and you are the man. Why did I not think of my son when I read the name? The thought would have killed me. But now I am strengthened.

"Well, you have succeeded: you have secured your prey, secured it through horrible anguish. God bring you to repentance! I have done with sorrow now the greatest is come. My eyes have beheld the depth of woe. I shall now be at rest till God calls me away. I leave you. I would not see my nephew now; no,-I leave my cause in the hands of God. If God deems him worthy of mercy, He will touch his young heart. Tell him, yes, tell him that his aunt pities him, bewails his fall, and will receive him, should he repent. No, you will not tell him that; you fear to lose your prey; but I tell you, you will be disappointed in your greatest hopes, the hopes that make you so eager to entrap the sons of the wealthy. Yes, you will be disappointed. Leonard is not worth one farthing; his father's estates are mortgaged for more than they are worth. So perhaps you'll reject him now. If so, send him to his aunt-his mother. I shall strive, with God, to make him worthy of the name which you have disgraced, and, with a mother's curse upon you, will disgrace for ever!"

Mrs. Malcolm retired: the Jesuit left the room, and gave a circumstantial account of the interview as calmly as if he had seen a panorama; for after

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COLD, COLD AS THE SOLID MARBLE.

the first shock, he completely recovered his selfpossession, and listened to his mother's awful denunciations without evincing the slightest impatience; his eyes downcast, his hands crossed upon his breast, his attitude that of a statue,-cold, cold as its solid marble.

FATHER DEVIGNE.

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CHAPTER XVII.

CONCLUSION.

A FEW words will bring this narrative to a conclusion.

The unexpected announcement respecting Mr. Devigne's bankruptcy was a shock to the Jesuits; but they did not on that account reject his son, as Mrs. Malcolm imagined they would; Leonard Devigne was a mine of wealth in himself: they had not erroneously computed the wealth he would produce, when " skilfully handled.”

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He realized their most sanguine expectations.

Eight years after his admission into the Society, his career began with a brilliant conversion.

Since then, his success has been unparalleled in the annals of Jesuitism in England.

His comely person, elegant address, fascinating manners, carry all before him: his heavenly look, when in the pulpit, is itself a conquering argument; but the music of his voice-the subtlety of his persuasive eloquence! No syren ever charmed so wisely.

He is the perfect man of the world rendered divine by all the spiritualities of Jesuitism. How fertile in resources; how inventive his penetrating