As he stood at the door of the house in Dowry Square, waiting the first stroke of ten before he gave the single knock which should announce his arrival, he, looking up at the starlit sky, felt there was something greater and nobler to strive after than mere fame and recognition of his powers by those around him. The silent majesty of the heavens has often brought a message, as to the psalmist of old, 'When I consider Thy heaven the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the stars which Thou hast created, what is man that Thou art mindful of Him, or the son of man that Thou visitest him.' That this poor boy had moments when he felt after God as the supreme good is shown by his poem which he calls 'The Resignation.' O God, whose thunder shakes the sky, Whose eye this atom globe surveys, To Thee, my only Rock, I fly, Thy mercy in Thy justice praise. The mystic mazes of Thy will, The shadows of celestial light Are past the power of human skill, But what the Eternal does is right. Then why, my soul, dost thou complain, Why drooping, seek the dark recess? Shake off the melancholy chain, For God created all to bless. We, who read these verses after the lapse of a hundred and twenty years, may well feel as sorrowful as if it were but a story of yesterday, that for Chatterton the last verse of this fine poem was, as far as our poor human judgment can go, never fulfilled, when he says,-- The gloomy mantle of the night Which on my sinking spirit steals, Will vanish at the morning light Which God, my East, my Sun, reveals. The next day Mr Lambert, standing at the door of his study with his hands full of papers, called Bryda as she passed. 'Step in a moment, Miss Palmer,' the lawyer said, surveying her with his keen eyes, which gleamed under bushy eyebrows. As Bryda obeyed and followed Mr Lambert into the room he shut the door. 'Mr Bayfield was here yesterday, as you may be aware.' 'I knew he was in Bristol, sir,' Bryda said, her voice faltering. 'Well, he has consented to await your decision before proceeding to recover the debt which your grandfather is unable to pay.' 'My decision, sir,' Bryda said, with some dignity, 'is made, and can never be altered.' 'Well, well, Bayfield is not the only man who has been taken at first sight with a pretty face. He says, if you will marry him, he will let your grandfather go scot-free. He has told you as much, I believe.' Bryda's crimson cheeks was sufficient answer, but she said firmly,-- 'I told the Squire my decision was made. I will not marry him.'