y?" asked Clarence.

"Yes--no--that is, I can't exactly say where he is; I wish I could: poor
Master Clinton! I loved him as my own son."

"You surprise me," said Clarence. "Is there anything in the fate of
Clinton L'Estrange that calls forth your pity? If so, you would gratify
a much better feeling than curiosity if you would inform me of it. The
fact is that I came here to seek him; for I have been absent from the
country many years, and on my return my first inquiry was for my old
friend and schoolfellow. None knew anything of him in London, and
I imagined therefore that he might have settled down into a country
gentleman. I was fully prepared to find him marshalling the fox-hounds
or beating the preserves; and you may consequently imagine my
mortification on learning at my inn that he had not been residing here
for many years; further I know not!"

"Ay, ay, sir," said the old steward, who had listened very attentively
to Clarence's detail, "had you pressed one of the village gossips a
little closer, you would doubtless have learned more. But 't is a story
I don't much love telling, although formerly I could have talked of
Master Clinton by the hour together to any one who would have had the
patience to listen to me."

"You have really created in me a very painful desire to learn more,"
said Clarence; "and, if I am not intruding on any family secrets, you
would oblige me greatly by whatever information you may think proper to
afford to an early and attached friend of the person in question."

"Well, sir, well," replied Mr. Wardour, who, without imputation on
his discretion, loved talking as well as any other old gentleman of
sixty-four, "if you will condescend to step up to my house, I shall feel
happy and proud to converse with a friend of my dear young master; and
you are heartily welcome to the information I can give you."

"I thank you sincerely," said Clarence; "but suffer me to propose, as an
amendment to your offer, that you accompany me for an hour or two to my
inn."

"Nay, sir," answered the old gentleman, in a piqued tone, "I trust you
will not disdain to honour me with your company. Thank Heaven, I can
afford to be hospitable now and then."

Clarence, who seemed to have his own reasons for the amendment he had
proposed, still struggled against this offer, but was at last, from fear
of offending the honest steward, obliged to accede.

Striking across a path, which led through a corner of the plant