et engaged, as far as I
know, and I sincerely trust it may prove to be a mere flirtation."

* * * * *

I had now grown to such enormous dimensions that any one who had known me
in my infancy would scarcely have recognised me, while naturally the more
I grew the more powerful I became, and the more capable both of
impressing the minds which received me and of injuring Zaluski. Poor
Zaluski, who was so foolishly, thoughtlessly happy! He little dreamed of
the fate that awaited him! His whole world was bright and full of
promise; each hour of love seemed to improve him, to deepen his whole
character, to tone down his rather flippant manner, to awaken for him new
and hitherto unthought-of realities.

But while he basked in his new happiness I travelled in my close stuffy
envelope to Dulminster, and after having been tossed in and out of bags,
shuffled, stamped, thumped, tied up, and generally shaken about, I
arrived one morning at Dulminster Archdeaconry, and was laid on the
breakfast table among other appetising things to greet Mrs. Selldon when
she came downstairs.

MY FIFTH STAGE

Also it is wise not to believe everything you hear, not immediately to
carry to the ears of others what you have either heard or believed.

THOMAS A KEMPIS.

Though I was read in silence at the breakfast table and not passed on to
the Archdeacon, I lay dormant in Mrs. Selldon's mind all day, and came to
her aid that night when she was at her wits' end for something to talk
about.

Mrs. Selldon, though a most worthy and estimable person, was of a
phlegmatic temperament; her sympathies were not easily aroused, her mind
was lazy and torpid, in conversation she was unutterably dull. There
were times when she was painfully conscious of this, and would have given
much for the ceaseless flow of words which fell from the lips of her
friend Mrs. Milton-Cleave. And that evening after my arrival chanced to
be one of these occasions, for there was a dinner-party at the
Archdeaconry, given in honour of a well-known author who was spending a
few days in the neighbourhood.

"I wish you could have Mr. Shrewsbury at your end of the table, Thomas,"
Mrs. Selldon had remarked to her husband with a sigh, as she was
arranging the guests on paper that afternoon.

"Oh, he must certainly take you in, my dear," said the Archdeacon. "And
he seems a very clever, well-read man, I am sure you will find him easy
to talk to."

Poor Mrs. Se