point in his public history, with what result
our readers know. Inquiry led us to a
perfect vindication of his patriotism and his
honesty. To what we have already said, we
may now add one or two points which have
been more recently brought under our notice.

In the matter of the pirates' head-money,
it is well to know that, of the large sums paid
on that account for the attacks on pirates in
the Eastern Seas, Sir James Brooke never
received a coin, that he always objected to the
principle of head-money, and entirely
concurred in the repeal of the statutes. More
also than his exoneration from all blame in
his dealings with the pirates, was the result
of the government inquiry instituted formally
at Singapore. On the return of the commission,
Lord Clarendon in August, eighteen
hundred and fifty-five, wrote thus:—

"The inquiry which has ended in the complete
exculpation of Sir James Brooke from the charges
made against him, has at the same time brought to
light abundant evidence of the beneficial result of his
administration of the affairs of Saráwak, which are
exhibited by the establishment of confidence and the
increase of trade, and are such as to deserve the
approbation of her Majesty's government."

By careful inquiry into the whole course
of affairs at Saráwak, we have become firm
converts to the opinion, that the English
Rajah deserves also the approbation of the
country.

But he deserves more than the sentiment
of approbation; he deserves active support.
What is to be finally the beneficial result of
Sir James Brooke's patriotic struggle to
secure for Great Britain a station of her own
between India and China in the Eastern
seas? No benefit at all can result from the
desertion of a brave man, who has given his
life's labour and all his fortune to secure this
great advantage to his country, and we shall
be glad to see that the English government is
now again alive to its importance.

MY LADY LUDLOW.

CHAPTER THE SEVENTH.

"I HAVE told you that I heard much of this
story from a friend of the Intendant of the
De Créquys, whom he met with in London.
Some years afterwards—the summer before
my lord's death—I was travelling with him
in Devonshire, and we went to see the French
prisoners of war on Dartmoor. We fell into
conversation with one of them, whom I found
out to be the very Pierre of whom I had
heard before, as having been involved in the
fatal story of Clément and Virginie, and by
him I was told much of their last days, and
thus I learnt how to have some sympathy
with all those who were concerned in those
terrible events; yes, even with the younger
Morin himself, on whose behalf Pierre spoke
warmly, even after so long a time had elapsed.

"For when the younger Morin called at
the porter's lodge on the evening of the day
when Virginie had gone out for the first
time after so many months' confinement to
the conciergerie, he was struck with the
improvement in her appearance. It seems to
have hardly been that he thought her beauty
greater; for, in addition to the fact that she
was not beautiful, Morin had arrived at
that point of being enamoured when it does
not signify whether the beloved one is plain
or lovely—she has enchanted one pair of eyes,
which henceforward see her through theiir
own medium. But Morin noticed the faint
increase of colour and light in her countenance.
It was as though she had broken,
through her thick cloud of hopeless sorrow,
and was dawning forth into a happier life.
And so, whereas during her grief, he had
revered and respected it even to a point of
silent sympathy, now that she was gladdened,
his heart rose on the wings of strengthened
hopes. Even in the dreary monotony of
this existence in his Aunt Babette's
conciergerie Time had not failed in his work;
and now, perhaps, soon he might humbly
strive to help Time. The very next day he
returned—on some pretence of business—to
the Hôtel Duguesclin, and made his aunt's,
room, rather than his aunt herself, a present
of roses and geraniums tied up in a bouquet
with a tricolor ribbon. Virginie was in the
room, sitting at the coarse sewing she liked
to do for Madame Babette. He saw her eyes
brighten at the sight of the flowers; she
asked his aunt to let her arrange them; he
saw her untie the ribbon, and with a gesture
of dislike throw it on the ground, and give
it a kick with her little foot, and even in
this girlish manner of insulting his dearest
prejudices he found something to admire.

"As he was coming out, Pierre stopped
him. The lad had been trying to arrest his
cousin's attention by futile grimaces and
signs played off behind Virginie's back; but
Monsieur Morin saw nothing but Mademoiselle
Cannes. However, Pierre was not to
be baffled, and Monsieur Morin found him in
waiting just outside the threshold. With his
finger on his lips, Pierre walked on tiptoe by
his companion's side till they would have
been long past sight or hearing of the
conciergerie, even had the inhabitants devoted
themselves to the purposes of spying or
listening.

"'Chut!' said Pierre, at last. 'She goes
out walking.'

"'Well?' said Monsieur Morin, half curious,
half annoyed at being disturbed in the
delicious reverie of the future into which he
longed to fall.

"'Well! It is not well. It is bad.'

"'Why? I do not ask who she is, but I
have my ideas. She is an aristocrat. Do
the people about here begin to suspect her?'

"'No, no!' said Pierre. 'But she goes
out walking. She has gone these two
mornings. I have watched her. She meets a
man—she is friends with him, for she talks