er's most particular friend."

"Ah! yes. I dare say Silverbridge has talked to you about him. I
think he's a stuck-up sort of fellow." To this there was not a word
of reply. "Where did your brother pick him up?"

"They were at Oxford together."

"I must say I think he gives himself airs;--because, you know, he's
nobody."

"I don't know anything of the kind," said Lady Mary, becoming very
red. "And as he is my brother's most particular friend,--his very
friend of friends,--I think you had better not abuse him to me."

"I don't think the Duke is very fond of him."

"I don't care who is fond of him. I am very fond of Silverbridge, and
I won't hear his friend ill-spoken of. I dare say he had some books
with him. He is not at all the sort of a man to go to a place and
satisfy himself with doing nothing but killing animals."

"Do you know him, Lady Mary?"

"I have seen him, and of course I have heard a great deal of him from
Silverbridge. I would rather not talk any more about him."

"You seem to be very fond of Mr. Tregear," he said angrily.

"It is no business of yours, Lord Popplecourt, whether I am fond of
anybody or not. I have told you that Mr. Tregear is my brother's
friend, and that ought to be enough."

Lord Popplecourt was a young man possessed of a certain amount of
ingenuity. It was said of him that he knew on which side his bread
was buttered, and that if you wished to take him in you must get up
early. After dinner and during the night he pondered a good deal on
what he had heard. Lady Cantrip had told him there had been a--dream.
What was he to believe about that dream? Had he not better avoid the
error of putting too fine a point upon it, and tell himself at once
that a dream in this instance meant a--lover? Lady Mary had already
been troubled by a lover! He was disposed to believe that young
ladies often do have objectionable lovers, and that things get
themselves right afterwards. Young ladies can be made to understand
the beauty of coal-mines almost as readily as young gentlemen. There
would be the two hundred thousand pounds; and there was the girl,
beautiful, well-born, and thoroughly well-mannered. But what if
this Tregear and the dream were one and the same? If so, had he not
received plenty of evidence that the dream had not yet passed away?
A remnant of affection for the dream would not have been a fatal
barrier, had not the girl been so fierce with him in defence of her
dream. He rememb