But he was
distinctly pleased to find that Sir John's carriage and pair, which met
them at the station, was irreproachable, and that Culverley was a very
fine old house, situated in the midst of a lovely park and approached by
an avenue of lime-trees, which, Sir John informed him, was one of the
oldest in the country. Sydney had an almost unduly keen sense of the
advantage which riches can bestow, and he coveted social almost as much
as professional standing for himself. It was, perhaps, natural that the
son of a poor man, who had been poor all his life, and owed his success
to his own brains and his power of continued work, should look a little
enviously on the position so readily attained by men of inferior mental
calibre, but of inherited and ever-increasing influence, like Sir John
Pynsent and his friends. Sydney never truckled: he was perfectly
independent in manner and in thought; but the good things of the world
were so desirable to him that for some of them--as he confessed to
himself with a half-laugh at his own weakness--he would almost have sold
his soul.

They arrived at Culverley shortly before dinner, and Sydney had time for
very few introductions before going to the dining-room. He was surprised
to find a rather large party present. There were several London men and
women whom he knew already, and who were staying in the house, and there
was a contingent of county people, who had only come to dinner. The new
member for Vanebury was made much of, especially by the county folk; and
as Sydney was young, handsome, and a good talker, he soon made himself
popular amongst them. For himself, he did not find the occasion
interesting, save as a means of social success. Most of the men were
dull, and the women prim and proper: there were not more than two pretty
girls in the whole party.

"That's the heiress, I suppose," thought Sydney, hearing a spectacled,
sandy-haired young woman who looked about five-and-twenty addressed as
Miss Pynsent. "Plain, as I thought. There's not a woman here worth
looking at, except Mrs. George Murray. I'll talk to her after dinner.
Not one of them is a patch on little Milly. I wonder how she would look,
dressed up in silks and satins. Pynsent knows how to choose his wine and
his cook better than his company, I fancy."

But his supercilious contempt for the county was well veiled, and the
people who entered into conversation with Sydney Campion, the new M.P.
for Vanebury, put him do