its and snatches, old associations and past emotions. The
long High Street which he threaded now began to change its bustling
character, and slide, as it were gradually, into the high road of a
suburb. On the left, the houses gave way to the moss-grown pales of
Lansmere Park: to the right, though houses still remained, they were
separated from each other by gardens, and took the pleasing appearance
of villas--such villas as retired tradesmen or their widows, old maids,
and half-pay officers, select for the evening of their days.

Mr. Dale looked at these villas with the deliberate attention of a man
awakening his power of memory, and at last stopped before one, almost
the last on the road, and which faced the broad patch of sward that lay
before the lodge of Lansmere Park. An old pollard oak stood near it, and
from the oak there came a low discordant sound; it was the hungry cry of
young ravens, awaiting the belated return of the parent bird. Mr. Dale
put his hand to his brow, paused a moment, and then, with a hurried
step, passed through the little garden and knocked at the door. A light
was burning in the parlor, and Mr. Dale's eye caught through the window
a vague outline of three forms. There was an evident bustle within at
the sound of the knocks. One of the forms rose and disappeared. A very
prim, neat, middle-aged maid-servant now appeared at the threshold, and
austerely inquired the visitor's business.

"I want to see Mr. or Mrs. Avenel. Say that I have come many miles to
see them; and take in this card."

The maid-servant took the card, and half-closed the door. At least three
minutes elapsed before she reappeared.

"Missis says it's late, sir; but walk in."

The Parson accepted the not very gracious invitation, stepped across the
little hall, and entered the parlor.

Old John Avenel, a mild-looking man, who seemed slightly paralytic, rose
slowly from his arm-chair. Mrs. Avenel, in an awfully stiff, clean, and
Calvinistical cap, and a gray dress, every fold of which bespoke
respectability and staid repute--stood erect on the floor, and, fixing
on the Parson a cold and cautious eye, said:

"You do the like of us great honor, Mr. Dale--take a chair! You call
upon business?"

"Of which I have apprised you by letter, Mr. Avenel."

"My husband is very poorly."

"A poor creature!" said John feebly, and as if in compassion of himself,
"I can't get about as I used to do. But it ben't near election time, be