er
the organ-loft and galleries, and strove to give as mediaeval a look to
Lady Whittlesea's as the place was capable of assuming.

In the sermon Charles dropped the twang with the surplice, and the
priest gave way to the preacher. He preached short stirring discourses
on the subjects of the day. It happened that a noble young prince, the
hope of a nation, and heir of a royal house, had just then died by a
sudden accident. Absalom, the son of David, furnished Honeyman with a
parallel. He drew a picture of the two deaths, of the grief of kings, of
the fate that is superior to them. It was, indeed, a stirring discourse,
and caused thrills through the crowd to whom Charles imparted it.
"Famous, ain't it?" says Sherrick, giving Clive a hand when the rite
was over. "How he's come out, hasn't he? Didn't think he had it in him."
Sherrick seemed to have become of late impressed with the splendour of
Charles's talents, and spoke of him--was it not disrespectful?--as a
manager would of a successful tragedian. Let us pardon Sherrick: he
had been in the theatrical way. "That Irishman was no go at all," he
whispered to Mr. Newcome, "got rid of him,--let's see, at Michaelmas."

On account of Clive's tender years, and natural levity, a little
inattention may be allowed to the youth, who certainly looked about him
very eagerly during the service. The house was filled by the ornamental
classes, the bonnets of the newest Parisian fashion. Away in a darkling
corner, under the organ, sate a squad of footmen. Surely that powdered
one in livery wore Lady Kew's colours? So Clive looked under all the
bonnets, and presently spied old Lady Kew's face, as grim and yellow as
her brass knocker, and by it Ethel's beauteous countenance. He dashed
out of church when the congregation rose to depart. "Stop and see
Honeyman, won't you?" asked Sherrick, surprised.

"Yes, yes; come back again," said Clive, and was gone.

He kept his word, and returned presently. The young Marquis and an
elderly lady were in Lady Kew's company. Clive had passed close under
Lady Kew's venerable Roman nose without causing that organ to bow in
ever so slight a degree towards the ground. Ethel had recognised
him with a smile and a nod. My lord was whispering one of his noble
pleasantries in her ear. She laughed at the speech or the speaker.
The steps of a fine belozenged carriage were let down with a bang. The
Yellow One had jumped up behind it, by the side of his brother Gi