dful, he could
turn to journalism, for which, undoubtedly, he had some aptitude. But
why do anything at all, in the sense of working for money? Every year he
felt less disposed for that kind of exertion, and had a greater relish
of his leisurely life. Mrs. Tarrant never rebuked him; indeed she had
long since ceased to make inquiry about his professional views. Perhaps
she felt it something of a dignity to have a grandson who lived as
gentleman at large.

But now, in the latter days of August, the gentleman found himself, in
one most important particular, at large no longer. On returning
from Teignmouth to Staple Inn he entered his rooms with a confused,
disagreeable sense that things were not as they had been, that his
freedom had suffered a violation, that he could not sit down among
his books with the old self-centred ease, that his prospects were
completely, indescribably changed, perchance much for the worse. In
brief, Tarrant had gone forth a bachelor, and came back a married man.

Could it be sober fact? Had he in very deed committed so gross an
absurdity?

He had purposed no such thing. Miss. Nancy Lord was not by any means the
kind of person that entered his thoughts when they turned to marriage.
He regarded her as in every respect his inferior. She belonged to the
social rank only just above that of wage-earners; her father had a small
business in Camberwell; she dressed and talked rather above her station,
but so, now-a-days, did every daughter of petty tradesfolk. From
the first he had amused himself with her affectation of intellectual
superiority. Miss. Lord represented a type; to study her as a sample of
the pretentious half-educated class was interesting; this sort of girl
was turned out in thousands every year, from so-called High Schools;
if they managed to pass some examination or other, their conceit grew
boundless. Craftily, he had tested her knowledge; it seemed all sham.
She would marry some hapless clerk, and bring him to bankruptcy by the
exigencies of her 'refinement.'

So had he thought of Nancy till a few months ago. But in the
spring-time, when his emotions blossomed with the blossoming year, he
met the girl after a long interval, and saw her with changed eyes. She
had something more than prettiness; her looks undeniably improved. It
seemed, too, that she bore herself more gracefully, and even talked
with, at times, an approximation to the speech of a lady. These
admissions signified muc