1&31.] The Sycophant. 547 



ingly. " Then why not leave us to starve, and go at once home to your 

 lady mother." 



The patient wife looked at her daughter, whose teai's were fast cooling 

 the iron she had heated, and snatching her boy to her bosom, replied 

 only with a burst of tears to her husband's brutal taunt. 



Somewhat softened, he continued : " Forgive me, Anna — but there is 

 your father's picture — the miniature — I am sure neither of us have any 

 reason to cherish that. You could pledge it, and redeem my cloak. 

 Something teUs me that my appeal of to-day will be successful." 



After a moment's pause she arose, and unfastening an old red leather 

 case, placed the little picture in her husband's hand. 



" You surely do not expect me to go to a pawnbroker's }" he ex- 

 claimed, his habitual selfishness returning immediately. 



" Winterton, I cannot take this there." 



" Then she can," he said. 



" What ! send my child to such a place }" 



" You are much more careful of her than of me," was the sneering 

 reply. 



She again took up the miniature, and with the manner of one who 

 has nothing more dear to part with, descended the creaking stairs. 



Winterton Bearfoot is already recognized, and it only remains to 

 accompany him, enveloped in his cloak^ to the dwelling of the great 

 man, from whom he expected, perhaps, because of his importunity, as 

 much as any thing else, some situation. 



After many hours waiting he was more bitterly disappointed than 

 ever, and his hurried step and hectic cheek evinced the contending 

 feelings of his mean, but yet human bosom. His family had long cast 

 him off as unworthy to bear his name — friends ! — the sycophant, the 

 slanderer, had none — even she, who, " in evil report ind good report," 

 had followed — and watched — and waited — she, the high-born and the 

 beautiful, who in the fulness of her unworldly feelings had bestowed 

 her pure, her young affections, on one so unworthy the treasure — she, 

 he felt — he knew it — she, could not but scorn him ; his cliildren — his 

 own flesh and blood — they loathed — despised»/(«w/ — their father ! They 

 clung to tlieir mother witli even more than the sweet confidence of 

 childliood, for they knew that if she would abandon them, her mother 

 would receive her to her bosom, and she would be rich — beloved as 

 ever. 



Some — many, perhaps, of the good feelings which are always inhe- 

 rent with the bad in every bosom, however their cultivation may be 

 neglected, struggled within him, and he leant for a moment against a 

 tree in St. James's Park, perhaps from a wish to arrange his ideas. 

 As he pressed his forehead against the rugged bark, two persons 

 passing, stopped, and exclaimed, at tlie same moment, " Winterton 

 JJearfoot !" These persons were Collingwood and Colonel Guildford. 



lie looked at tliem, and the expression and briglitness of his eyes, 

 blazing like torches in a charnel-house, rivetted botii gentlemen to the 

 spot. At first he attempted to salute them, but the effort was made in 

 vain. 



" Ah ! — you witnessed my disgrace, and the devil sent you here to 

 see my misery. Disappointed — loathed— starving — wife — children — all 

 starving. Well — let it be so." A horrid change passed over his coun- 

 tenance, and as liis liand, which was before extended towards them, fell 



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