y Square; and his hat and umbrella
were taken away from him by an old servant looking very much like Mr.
Prendergast himself;--having about him the same look of the stiffness
of years, and the same look also of excellent preservation and care.

"Mr. Prendergast is in the library, sir, if you please," said the old
servant; and so saying he ushered Herbert into the back down-stairs
room. It was a spacious, lofty apartment, well fitted up for a
library, and furnished for that purpose with exceeding care;--such a
room as one does not find in the flashy new houses in the west, where
the dining-room and drawing-room occupy all of the house that is
visible. But then, how few of those who live in flashy new houses in
the west require to have libraries in London!

As he entered the room Mr. Prendergast came forward to meet him,
and seemed heartily glad to see him. There was a cordiality about
him which Herbert had never recognized at Castle Richmond, and an
appearance of enjoyment which had seemed to be almost foreign to the
lawyer's nature. Herbert perhaps had not calculated, as he should
have done, that Mr. Prendergast's mission in Ireland had not admitted
of much enjoyment. Mr. Prendergast had gone there to do a job of
work, and that he had done, very thoroughly; but he certainly had not
enjoyed himself.

There was time for only few words before the old man again entered
the room, announcing dinner; and those few words had no reference
whatever to the Castle Richmond sorrow. He had spoken of Herbert's
lodging, and of his journey, and a word or two of Mr. Die, and then
they went in to dinner. And at dinner too the conversation wholly
turned upon indifferent matters, upon reform at Oxford, the state
of parties, and of the peculiar idiosyncrasies of the Irish Low
Church clergymen, on all of which subjects Herbert found that Mr.
Prendergast had a tolerably strong opinion of his own. The dinner was
very good, though by no means showy,--as might have been expected in
a house in Bloomsbury Square--and the wine excellent, as might have
been expected in any house inhabited by Mr. Prendergast.

And then, when the dinner was over, and the old servant had slowly
removed his last tray, when they had each got into an arm-chair,
and were seated at properly comfortable distances from the fire, Mr.
Prendergast began to talk freely; not that he at once plunged into
the middle of the old history, or began with lugubrious force to
recapitul