in a burst of tears, the secret of which might be found in the failure of some hopes of his own, rather perhaps than in Julian's ruin. However, he embraced him, on parting, with a vehemence in which rage was probably more concerned than affection; but Julian, deceived by his tears and his hugs, believed him to be that truest of friends, the friend of the Ruined. De Villeneuve joined him the next morning at breakfast, to learn, if possible, more particulars; and came with the joyful intelligence that a letter from Zelie had undeceived him, and that her admired friend Julian was not the object of her love. CHAPTER LXII. "Had I a cave on some wild distant shore, There would I weep my woes, There seek my lost repose, Till grief my eyes should close, BURNS. A bitter smile passed over Julian's face, while De Villeneuve, with great apparent exultation, announced his discovery. "I suspect," he said, "that there are few women whose love would survive the total ruin of one's fortunes." "Ah! my dearest friend, that would make no difference to Zelie. In fact, she does not know it; it was all my mistake a mistake engendered by my great and blinding anxiety to call my bosom friend a brother— we so easily believe what we devoutly wish; but is it not fortunate I was wrong? Your broken fortunes, Zelie, had she loved you, would have exerted herself to the utmost to bind; but she would have had little courage, I fear, to attempt the hopeless task of binding a broken heart, and of rebuilding your ruined hopes." "It is better as it is," said Julian. "I am so grieved, so deeply grieved, friend of my heart, that in your distress I have no power to assist or to comfort! Ah! friendship has its pleasures, but it has its tortures, too, and this is one. Alas! at this moment I am quite destitute! In the rash hope of assisting my friend, I yesterday ventured my all-at least, the little all which remained to me of Zelie's benefit; and she is now ill and in need, while I am too destitute to assist her, and, what, on my honour, grieves me more, to aid you." "Nay," said Julian, "speak not of it! I have sold all my useless baubles, large and small; and after devoting two hundred pounds to my poor father's use, and reserving enough to equip myself during my approaching battle with Fate, I can yet gladly assist you and poor Zelie." In And Julian put a bank-note into De Villeneuve's hand. The latter drew out his handkerchief, and sobbing, said, "I would not accept it, if I did not hope to make it instrumental in serving you. Julian, your ruin weighs like a curse upon my spirit. my own blighted hopes and shattered fortunes (even when most desolate, and desponding myself), I could still feel comfort and take pride in your happier destiny. What is to be done? Your honoured father seems to have told you little, nothing indeed, but that he is ruined. Shall I, my beloved friend, much as my delicate nature shrinks from the task, endeavour to ascertain the particulars of this terrible downfall ?" "Not for worlds," said Julian, 66 not for worlds would I seek from others those details I thank my father has chosen to withhold. you, Alphonse; I feel your generous offer, but I cannot avail myself of it, and would not for worlds." "Alas! who can tell what plans and hopes might be suggested, if the whole state of affairs were known!" "My father, Alphonse, is a far more experienced and better man of business than either of us. If nothing suggests itself to him, be sure nothing can be done." "Still." "Still, if it could, I would not steal into the confidence he has not freely granted me." "There is nothing in the papers about it, Julian. He is not publicly a bankrupt." "Oh no, thank Heaven! all his speculations were private. But let us drop the subject." "One word: my prophetic affection for you |