ountry for
freedom in those days, under the paternal monarchy of that paternal
monarch, Louis Philippe--to learn to forget, among these sources of
inspiration, all that he had known of the sweets of English life.

But there remained the journey to Hadley. It had always been his
custom to go to Mr. Pritchett in the city before he went to his
uncle's house, and he did so now. Everybody who wished to see Mr.
Bertram always went to Mr. Pritchett first, and Mr. Pritchett would
usually send some _avant-courier_ to warn his patron of the invasion.

"Ah, Mr. George," said Pritchett, wheezing, with his most melancholy
sigh. "You shouldn't have left the old gentleman so long, sir. Indeed
you shouldn't."

"But he does not want to see me," said George.

"Think what a sight of money that is!" continued Pritchett. "One
would really think, Mr. George, that you objected to money. There
is that gentleman, your particular friend, you know, the member of
Parliament. He is down there constantly, paying his respects, as he
calls it."

"What, Mr. Harcourt?"

"Yes, Mr. Harcourt. And he sends grapes in spring, and turkeys in
summer, and green peas in winter."

"Green peas in winter! they must cost something."

"Of course they do; sprats to catch big fish with, Mr. George. And
then the old gentleman has got a new lawyer; some sharp new light
of Mr. Harcourt's recommending. Oh, Mr. George, Mr. George! do be
careful, do now! Could not you go and buy a few ducks, or pigeons,
and take them in a basket? The old gentleman does seem to like that
kind of thing, though ten years since he was so different. Half a
million of money, Mr. George! It's worth a few grapes and turkeys."
And Mr. Pritchett shook his head and wrung his hands; for he saw that
nothing he said produced any effect.

George went to Hadley at last without ducks or pigeons, grapes or
turkeys. He was very much amused however with the perpetual industry
of his friend. "_Labor omnia vincit improbus_" said he to himself.
"It is possible that Harcourt will find my uncle's blind side at
last."

He found the old gentleman considerably changed. There were,
occasionally, flashes of his former customary, sarcastic pungency;
now and again he would rouse himself to be ill-natured, antagonistic,
and self-willed. But old age and illness had sadly told upon him;
and he was content for the most part to express his humour by little
shrugs, shakes of the head, and an irritable manner he had