"My Lord," said Aram, in a voice which, in spite of its calmness,
betrayed that he was affected, "it seldom happens to a man of my secluded
habits, and lowly pursuits, to have the philosophy he affects put to so
severe a trial. I am grateful to you--deeply grateful for an offer so
munificent--so undeserved. I am yet more grateful that it allows me to
sound the strength of my own heart, and to find that I did not too highly
rate it. Look, my Lord, from the spot where we now stand" (the moon had
risen, and they had now returned to the terrace): "in the vale below, and
far among those trees, lies my home. More than two years ago, I came
thither, to fix the resting-place of a sad and troubled spirit. There
have I centered all my wishes and my hopes; and there may I breathe my
last! My Lord, you will not think me ungrateful, that my choice is made;
and you will not blame my motive, though you may despise my wisdom."

"But," said the Earl astonished, "you cannot foresee all the advantages
you would renounce. At your age--with your intellect--to choose the
living sepulchre of a hermitage--it was wise to reconcile yourself to it,
but not to prefer it! Nay, nay; consider--pause. I am in no haste for
your decision; and what advantages have you in your retreat, that you
will not possess in a greater degree with me? Quiet?--I pledge it to you
under my roof. Solitude?--you shall have it at your will. Books?--what
are those which you, which any individual possesses, to the public
institutions, the magnificent collections, of the metropolis? What else
is it you enjoy yonder, and cannot enjoy with me?"

"Liberty!" said Aram energetically.--"Liberty! the wild sense of
independence. Could I exchange the lonely stars and the free air, for the
poor lights and feverish atmosphere of worldly life? Could I surrender my
mood, with its thousand eccentricities and humours--its cloud and shadow-
-to the eyes of strangers, or veil it from their gaze by the irksomeness