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"That you were that ridiculous American poet."
"Bring me the gla.s.s, my child," said Hopkins, gravely. "I--I'd just like to see my face in the mirror."
The gla.s.s was brought and Hopkins looked into it. The face of Barncastle in very truth gazed back at him from its silver depths.
"Ah!" he said. "I have changed; have I not?"
"Yes, indeed," said the Lady of Burningford. "But really I think your illness has done you good, for I do believe you look ten years younger."
"It is well," said the new Barncastle, with a sigh of resignation. "I have worked too hard. I shall now retire from public life and devote my remaining years to--to the accomplishment of my one great ambition."
"And what is that?" asked his daughter.
"To becoming a leader in the busy world of leisure, my child," said Toppleton, falling back to his pillow once more, and again losing consciousness in sleep.
This time fortunately the sleep was that of one who had fought a good fight, had lost, but whose conscience was clear; and to whom, after many days, had been restored a sound mind in a body sound enough to last through many years of unremitting rest.
CHAPTER XVII.
EPILOGUE.
A SINGLE year has pa.s.sed since the episode which brought our last chapter to a close.
The new Barncastle of Burningford is well and happy in the paths of pleasantness and peace, into which he was so unexpectedly and so unwittingly brought. His daughter has become engaged to a promising scion of a neighbouring house of large means and high estate in the social world. Hopkins Toppleton is in New York, busy at the practice of the law, developing a genius in the profession he had adopted for the convenience of his partners at which they stand amazed; steadily forging his way to the front, his energy, his aggressiveness, and extraordinary fertility of resource dazzling all beholders.
As for the weary spirit,--alas for him! He still whistles, wearily, through s.p.a.ce, hopeless and forlorn, but at all times a welcome visitor to Burningford, whither he personally went, shortly after Toppleton's departure for New York, to lay his pet.i.tion at the feet of Barncastle himself. He knows now what has happened to his young counsel, and his regret for himself is tempered by his regret for what he has brought upon him who so n.o.bly undertook to champion his cause, for the quondam Toppleton has concealed from his first client the happiness that he feels over the strange metamorphosis in his fortunes, lest, comparing it with his own miserable condition, the exile may become more unhappy than ever.
THE END.
