ts more he was in the library well stored
with books, and decorated with marble busts and images from the studios
of Canova and Thorwaldsen.

"My master, sir, will be down immediately," said the servant who
admitted him; and Ferrers threw himself on a sofa, and contemplated the
apartment with an air half envious and half cynical.

Presently the door opened, and "My dear Ferrers!" "Well, _mon cher_, how
are you?" were the salutations hastily exchanged.

After the first sentences of inquiry, gratulation, and welcome, had
cleared the way for more general conversation,--"Well, Maltravers," said
Ferrers, "so here we are together again, and after a lapse of so many
years! both older, certainly; and you, I suppose, wiser. At all events,
people think you so; and that's all that's important in the question.
Why, man, you are looking as young as ever, only a little paler and
thinner; but look at me--I am not very _much_ past thirty, and I am
almost an old man; bald at the temples, crows' feet, too, eh! Idleness
ages one damnably."

"Pooh, Lumley, I never saw you look better. And are you really come to
settle in England?"

"Yes, if I can afford it. But at my age, and after having seen so much,
the life of an idle, obscure _garcon_ does not content me. I feel that
the world's opinion, which I used to despise, is growing necessary to
me. I want to be something. What can I be? Don't look alarmed, I won't
rival you. I dare say literary reputation is a fine thing, but I
desire some distinction more substantial and worldly. You know your own
country; give me a map of the roads to Power."

"To Power! Oh, nothing but law, politics, and riches."

"For law I am too old; politics, perhaps, might suit me; but riches, my
dear Ernest--ah, how I long for a good account with my banker!"

"Well, patience and hope. Are you are not a rich uncle's heir?"

"I don't know," said Ferrers, very dolorously; "the old gentleman has
married again, and may have a family."

"Married!--to whom?"

"A widow, I hear; I know nothing more, except that she has a child
already. So you see she has got into a cursed way of having children.
And perhaps, by the time I'm forty, I shall see a whole covey of cherubs
flying away with the great Templeton property!"

"Ha, ha; your despair sharpens your wit, Lumley; but why not take a leaf
out of your uncle's book, and marry yourself?"

"So I will when I can find an heiress. If that is what you meant to
say--it is