ent admirer of "St. Charles," as
Thackeray once called him.'

'Indeed, I am. I agree with Ainger in regarding him as the last of the
Elizabethans. I love his fine humour and homely fantastic grandeur of
style,' returned Dr. Ross warmly. 'The man's whole life, too, is so
wonderfully pathetic. Few scenes in fiction are so touching as that sad
scene where the unhappy Mary Lamb feels the dreaded attack of insanity
coming on, and brother and sister, hand-in-hand, and weeping as they go,
perform that sorrowful journey across the fields to the house where Mary
is to be sheltered. I used to cry over that story as a boy.'

Audrey drew a long breath of relief. Her father had started on one of
his hobbies. All would be well now.

For one moment she had been anxious, very anxious. Like other men,
Michael had his weaknesses. Nothing would annoy him more than to be
supposed guilty of a premeditated pun. He always expressed a great deal
of scorn for what he called a low form of wit--'and which is as far
removed from wit,' he would add, 'as the slums of the Seven Dials are
from Buckingham Palace.'

Mr. Harcourt was quite aware of this fastidious dislike on Michael's
part. It was, therefore, in pure malice that he had asked that question
about 'Elia'; but Michael's matter-of-fact answer had baffled him, and
the sole result had been to start a delightful discussion on the
writings of Charles Lamb and his contemporaries--a subject on which all
three men talked exceedingly well.

Audrey listened to them with delight. She was aware that Mr. Blake, who
sat next her, was silent too. When a pause in the conversation occurred,
she turned round to address him, and found him regarding her with an air
of intelligent curiosity.

'You seem to take a great deal of interest in all this,' he said, with a
smile. 'Most ladies would consider it dry. I suppose you read a great
deal.'

'I am afraid not. I love reading, but one finds so much else to do. But
it is always a pleasure to me to hear my father talk. My brother-in-law,
too, is a very clever man.'

'So I should imagine. And Captain Burnett--is he also a relative?'

'Only a sort of cousin. But he has no nearer ties, and he spends half
his time at Woodcote. My sister and I look upon him as a brother--in
fact, he has supplied a great want in my life. From a child I have so
longed to have a brother of my own.'

Mr. Blake looked down at his plate.

'A brother is not always an undivided bles