of the
beauty and tranquillity of days gone by. Rolfe seldom spoke of his own
affairs, but in talking of travel he had been heard to mention that his
father had engineered certain lines of foreign railway. It seemed that
Harvey had no purpose in life, save that of enjoying himself. Obviously
he read a good deal, and Carnaby credited him with profound historical
knowledge; but he neither wrote nor threatened to do so. Something of
cynicism appeared in his talk of public matters; politics amused him,
and his social views lacked consistency, tending, however, to an
indolent conservatism. Despite his convivial qualities, he had traits
of the reserved, even of the unsociable, man: a slight awkwardness in
bearing, a mute shyness with strangers, a hesitancy in ordinary talk,
and occasional bluntness of assertion or contradiction, suggesting a
contempt which possibly he did not intend. Hugh Carnaby declared that
the true Rolfe only showed himself after a bottle of wine; maintained,
moreover, that Harvey had vastly improved since he entered upon a
substantial income. When Rolfe was five and twenty, Hugh being two
years younger, they met after a long separation, and found each other
intolerable; a decade later their meeting led to hearty friendship.
Rolfe had become independent, and was tasting his freedom in a
twelvemonth's travel. The men came face to face one day on the deck of
a steamer at Port Said. Physically, Rolfe had changed so much that the
other had a difficulty in recognising him; morally, the change was not
less marked, as Carnaby very soon became aware. At thirty-seven this
process of development was by no means arrested, but its slow and
subtle working escaped observation unless it were that of Harvey Rolfe
himself.

His guest this evening, in a quiet corner of the dining-room where he
generally sat, was a man, ten years his junior, named Morphew: slim,
narrow-shouldered, with sandy hair, and pale, delicate features of more
sensibility than intelligence; restless, vivacious, talking incessantly
in a low, rapid voice, with frequent nervous laughs which threw back
his drooping head. A difference of costume--Rolfe wore morning dress,
Morphew the suit of ceremony--accentuated the younger man's advantage
in natural and acquired graces; otherwise, they presented the contrast
of character and insignificance. Rolfe had a shaven chin, a weathered
complexion, thick brown hair; the penumbra of middle-age had touched
his cou