Our chief aim has been to take you into our confidence, to make you our friend, to let you know, without circumlocution, as much about the people whose lives we are sketching as we knew at starting. You may have been a little surprised, perhaps, and slightly confused at that incident of the two girls at Barton Hall; but otherwise we have not laboured to hide our knowledge for a time, that we might surprise you further on. This may be a fault (one of many faults) in our narration of the history of these actors in the romance of the Tallants of Barton. If it be so, we hope that the motive which lies at the foundation of it may in some wise be considered a laudable one. Although we shall not surprise you like the dramatists with these closing scenes, we have brought our chief characters together for the finish. If you do not see them all before the foot-lights, you will hear of them. We cannot let down the drop-scene amidst a crash of music and blue fire; but we promise you there shall be real water in these closing scenes, real trees and meadows, real halls and castles, real streets, and above all, real people. If we succeed in impressing you with this fact, we shall gladly dispense with the blue fire and the orchestral accompaniments. Our fire shall be the glorious sun; our music the roar of the great city, and the murmur of the wind in the Severnshire valley. Nearly a year has elapsed since the Brazencrook bells proclaimed the Countess of Verner a mother; two years have gone by since Lionel Hammerton sailed for India; and once more it is summer-time o’er all the land,--hot, glowing, glorious summer,--and we propose to let down the drop-scene amidst the refulgent splendours of the time. Shining with the same genial warmth upon all men and things, Great Sol is your only constitutional monarch. Yon magnificent sun,--nothing influences his benign influence. The courtier wins no smile from him that the beggar may not have. None enjoy a monopoly of his favour. He rules over all with an equal sway. Eloquence, money, claims of long descent, deeds of arms, gorgeous array, elicit no extra honours at his court. See how benignantly he looks down upon yon little cottage. See how his beams light up those lichen-covered bricks, and tremble upon those little square panes of glass. See how yon beggar lies in the royal presence, basking in the genial warmth. That fine mansion close by has no grander lights upon it; that proud lord in his carriage gets no more sunshine than the beggar. O glorious freedom of nature! Why do we not learn the lessons thou teachest? Why does that proud woman take up her dress lest her ragged sister should contaminate her, when yon glorious sun takes both in his radiant arms in acknowledged equality? Look at those streams of sunny light that fall upon the gorgeous equipages in Hyde Park; they do not disdain those ragged children on the footpath.