"If he has risen above his old condition," said Mrs. Hudson, leaning, towards her husband, "he has certainly not risen into happiness." "No man does, who acts from an utter disregard of others," replied the doctor. "Dunbar started in life with the avowed determination to rise; and to rise on the most thorough selfish principles. What his exact elevation, as regards external things, may be, I do not know; but I have heard it whispered that he has at least been sadly disappointed in the amount of his wife's fortune. As to her character and disposition, I presume they were scarcely taken into the account; although he will, without doubt, find them of more serious importance than he at first imagined." It seemed to Dunbar that he could turn no way during that unhappy evening without seeing either the wife or sister of Doctor Hudson; and he never saw them without an involuntary assent to their loveliness as contrasted with the woman to whom he had united himself for life. They were led to the dance by men of character, standing, and education, and were ever receiving attentions which any woman present would have felt to be complimentary in a high degree, while, with all her wealth and high connexions, his wife sat neglected, except by those who felt for her some personal interest. Dunbar likewise observed that Doctor Hudson was noticed by almost every one; and, for the first time, learned that he had recently been elevated to the chair of anatomy and surgery in one of the medical schools. There was something positive about this—a real elevation that could not well be called in question—while he perceived that his own position was as yet equivocal, and that, think as highly of himself as he might, he could not force others to do honor to his greatness. The young attorney went home that night with feelings of humiliation deeper than he had ever known. CHAPTER XX. CONCLUSION. ONCE again did the two men meet. It was late in life, yet not many years later. Doctor Hudson was just preparing to leave his office one afternoon about five o'clock, when a grey-headed man, plainly dressed, came in. He immediately recognised him as old Mr. Dunbar. "Doctor," he said, with a good deal of agitation in his manner, "I want you to come to my house immediately." "Is anything serious the matter?" asked Dr. Hudson. "Yes, sir, very serious. My son arrived in the cars from Baltimore this afternoon, in a terrible condition. He has been shot, and stabbed in two places. How, why, or when, I have not yet been able to learn. He was brought on by two men, to whose account I did not half listen, before hurrying off for surgical aid. The ball is still in his breast. Oh, Doctor! come with as little delay as possible."