losing that first step, which is "a tide in the affairs of men," he had been ever after condemned to be "bound in shallows and in miseries."
But the bloom and summer of life had passed by, and since retrospection could redeem no folly, much less present any consolation, he desired only to forget it, and to dwell, as far as he was able, in the Castle of Indolence, save when the Castle of Rotheles was animated by the presence of some really worthy person, whose name was surrounded by the halo of virtue and talents. In such periods, he was proud and happy as the monarch who cried in his sleep, "I have gotten Themistocles, the Athenian!" He became active, hospitable, full of conversational power, displayed extensive information, and much of that hopeful spirit which be longs to an earlier period; in fact, he felt as if he could redeem the past, as if his affections and abilities could still be exercised for the benefit of his fellow-men in the manner befitting his rank, but the stimulus withdrawn, the effect subsided; not, however, without leaving benefit which might have been most happily improved, had not his lady bent all her powers and wishes to one single aim—her own pecuniary interest.
Our readers will see at once that Lady Rotheles was completely disappointed in any hope she might have formed on the subject of rendering her husband's niece a substitute for her own. She had,
