the characters
of men. Discovering that she was in danger of overstepping the limits of
my patience, she drew back with a skill which performed the retrograde
movement without permitting it to betray itself.

"We have carried our little joke, my dear Gerard, far enough," she said.

"I fancy your residence in Germany has rather blunted your native English
sense of humor. You don't suppose, I hope and trust, that I am so
insensible to our relative positions as to think of interfering in your
choice of friends or associates. If you are not aware of it already, let
me remind you that this house is now yours; not mine. I live here--gladly
live here, my dear boy--by your indulgence; fortified (I am sure) by your
regard for your excellent father's wishes as expressed in his will--"

I stopped her there. She had got the better of me with a dexterity which
I see now, but which I was not clever enough to appreciate at time. In a
burst of generosity, I entreated her to consider Trimley Deen as her
house, and never to mention such a shocking subject as my authority
again.

After this, need I say that the most amiable of women took me out in her
carriage, and introduced me to some of the best society in England?

If I could only remember all the new friends to whom I made my bow, as
well as the conversation in which we indulged, I might write a few pages
here, interesting in a high degree to persons with well-balanced minds.
Unhappily, so far as my own impressions were concerned, the best society
proved to be always the same society. Every house that we entered was in
the same beautiful order; every mistress of the house was dressed in the
best taste; every master of the house had the same sensible remarks to
make on conservative prospects at the coming election; every young
gentleman wanted to know how my game preserves had been looked after in
my absence; every young lady said: "How nice it must have been, Mr.
Roylake, to find yourself again at Trimley Deen." Has anybody ever
suffered as I suffered, during that round of visits, under the desire to
yawn and the effort to suppress it? Is there any sympathetic soul who can
understand me, when I say that I would have given a hundred pounds for a
gag, and for the privilege of using it to stop my stepmother's pleasant
chat in the carriage, following on our friends' pleasant chat in the
drawing-room? Finally, when we got home, and when Mrs. Roylake kindly
promised me another round o