. His searching eye, as he drank, met mine, and for a
moment we each rather deeply sounded the other, to the effect no doubt
of a slight embarrassment. "And you," he said by way of carrying this
off--"how about YOUR wardrobe?"

"Oh his!" cried my friend; "his wardrobe's immense. He could dress up a
regiment!" He had drunk more champagne--I admit that the champagne
was good--than was from any point of view to have been desired. He was
rapidly drifting beyond any tacit dissuasion of mine. He was feverish
and rash, and all attempt to direct would now simply irritate him. As
we rose from the table he caught my troubled look. Passing his arm for
a moment into mine, "This is the great night!" he strangely and softly
said; "the night and the crisis that will settle me."

Mr. Searle had caused the whole lower portion of the house to be thrown
open and a multitude of lights to be placed in convenient and effective
positions. Such a marshalled wealth of ancient candlesticks and
flambeaux I had never beheld. Niched against the dusky wainscots,
casting great luminous circles upon the pendent stiffness of sombre
tapestries, enhancing and completing with admirable effect the variety
and mystery of the great ancient house, they seemed to people the wide
rooms, as our little group passed slowly from one to another, with a
dim expectant presence. We had thus, in spite of everything, a wonderful
hour of it. Mr. Searle at once assumed the part of cicerone, and--I had
not hitherto done him justice--Mr. Searle became almost agreeable. While
I lingered behind with his sister he walked in advance with his kinsman.
It was as if he had said: "Well, if you want the old place you shall
have it--so far as the impression goes!" He spared us no thrill--I
had almost said no pang--of that experience. Carrying a tall silver
candlestick in his left hand, he raised it and lowered it and cast the
light hither and thither, upon pictures and hangings and carvings and
cornices. He knew his house to perfection. He touched upon a hundred
traditions and memories, he threw off a cloud of rich reference to
its earlier occupants. He threw off again, in his easy elegant way, a
dozen--happily lighter--anecdotes. His relative attended with a brooding
deference. Miss Searle and I meanwhile were not wholly silent.

"I suppose that by this time you and your cousin are almost old
friends," I remarked.

She trifled a moment with her fan and then raised her kind small