extent, and in the more
favourable situations of London, would have passed for a very desirable
and spacious tenement. An old man, whose accurate precision of dress
bespoke the tastes of the master, opened the door, and after ushering
Clarence through two long, and, to his surprise, almost splendidly
furnished rooms, led him into a third, where, seated at a small
writing-table, he found Mr. Talbot. That person, one whom Clarence then
little thought would hereafter exercise no small influence over his
fate, was of a figure and countenance well worthy the notice of a
description.

His own hair, quite white, was carefully and artificially curled, and
gave a Grecian cast to features whose original delicacy, and exact
though small proportions, not even age could destroy. His eyes were
large, black, and sparkled with almost youthful vivacity; and his mouth,
which was the best feature he possessed, developed teeth white and
even as rows of ivory. Though small and somewhat too slender in the
proportions of his figure, nothing could exceed the ease and the grace
of his motions and air; and his dress, though singularly rich in
its materials, eccentric in its fashion, and from its evident study,
unseemly to his years, served nevertheless to render rather venerable
than ridiculous a mien which could almost have carried off any
absurdity, and which the fashion of the garb peculiarly became. The tout
ensemble was certainly that of a man who was still vain of his exterior,
and conscious of its effect; and it was as certainly impossible to
converse with Mr. Talbot for five minutes without merging every less
respectful impression in the magical fascination of his manner.

"I thank you, Mr. Linden," said Talbot, rising, "for your accepting so
readily an old man's invitation. If I have felt pleasure in discovering
that we were to be neighbours, you may judge what that pleasure is
to-day at finding you my visitor."

Clarence, who, to do him justice, was always ready at returning a fine
speech, replied in a similar strain, and the conversation flowed on
agreeably enough. There was more than a moderate collection of books
in the room, and this circumstance led Clarence to allude to literary
subjects; these Mr. Talbot took up with avidity, and touched with a
light but graceful criticism upon many of the then modern and some of
the older writers. He seemed delighted to find himself understood and
appreciated by Clarence, and every moment o