of a brilliant company, and for
the first time in his life tasted what it was to have free intercourse
with his fellow-creatures of both sews. The son of a System was,
therefore, launched; not only through the surf, but in deep waters.

Now the baronet had so far compromised between the recurrence of his
softer feelings and the suggestions of his new familiar, that he had
determined to act toward Richard with justness. The world called it
magnanimity, and even Lady Blandish had some thoughts of the same kind
when she heard that he had decreed to Richard a handsome allowance, and
had scouted Mrs. Doria's proposal for him to contest the legality of the
marriage; but Sir Austin knew well he was simply just in not withholding
money from a youth so situated. And here again the world deceived him by
embellishing his conduct. For what is it to be just to whom we love! He
knew it was not magnanimous, but the cry of the world somehow fortified
him in the conceit that in dealing perfect justice to his son he was
doing all that was possible, because so much more than common fathers
would have done. He had shut his heart.

Consequently Richard did not want money. What he wanted more, and did not
get, was a word from his father, and though he said nothing to sadden his
young bride, she felt how much it preyed upon him to be at variance with
the man whom, now that he had offended him and gone against him, he would
have fallen on his knees to; the man who was as no other man to him. She
heard him of nights when she lay by his side, and the darkness, and the
broken mutterings, of those nights clothed the figure of the strange
stern man in her mind. Not that it affected the appetites of the pretty
pair. We must not expect that of Cupid enthroned and in condition; under
the influence of sea-air, too. The files of egg-cups laugh at such an
idea. Still the worm did gnaw them. Judge, then, of their delight when,
on this pleasant morning, as they were issuing from the garden of their
cottage to go down to the sea, they caught sight of Tom Bakewell rushing
up the road with a portmanteau on his shoulders, and, some distance
behind him, discerned Adrian.

"It's all right!" shouted Richard, and ran off to meet him, and never
left his hand till he had hauled him up, firing questions at him all the
way, to where Lucy stood.

"Lucy! this is Adrian, my cousin."--"Isn't he an angel?" his eyes seemed
to add; while Lucy's clearly answered, "That he