the last, there is no place so sunny as the hearth of an
old school-friend. But my house of cards is blown down--talk of it no
more--'tis a painful subject. You met Lionel Haughton here the last time
you called--how did you like him!"

"Very much indeed."

"Well, then, since you cannot call on Darrell, call on him."

GEORGE (with animation).--"It is just what I meant to do--what is his
address?"

COLONEL MORLEY--"There is his card--take it. He was here last night
to inquire if I knew where Darrell had gone, though no one in his
household, nor I either, suspected till this morning that Darrell had
left town for good. You will find Lionel at home, for I sent him word I
would call. But really I am not up to it now. Tell him from me that Mr.
Darrell will not return to Carlton Gardens this season, and is gone to
Fawley. At present Lionel need not know more--you understand? And now,
my dear George, good day."

CHAPTER XX.

EACH GENERATION HAS ITS OWN CRITICAL CANONS IN POETRY AS WELL AS IN
POLITICAL CREEDS, FINANCIAL SYSTEMS, OR WHATEVER OTHER CHANGEABLE
MATTERS OF TASTE ARE CALLED "SETTLED QUESTIONS" AND "FIXED OPINIONS."

George, musing much over all that his uncle had said respecting Darrell,
took his way to Lionel's lodgings. The young man received him with the
cordial greeting due from Darrell's kinsman to Colonel Morley's nephew,
but tempered by the respect no less due to the distinction and the
calling of the eloquent preacher.

Lionel was perceptibly affected by learning that Darrell had thus
suddenly returned to the gloomy beech-woods of Fawley; and he evinced
his anxious interest in his benefactor with so much spontaneous
tenderness of feeling that George, as if in sympathy, warmed into the
same theme. "I can well conceive," said he, "your affection for Mr.
Darrell. I remember, when I was a boy, how powerfully he impressed me,
though I saw but little of him. He was then in the zenith of his career,
and had but few moments to give to a boy like me; but the ring of his
voice and the flash of his eye sent me back to school, dreaming of fame
and intent on prizes. I spent part of one Easter vacation at his house
in town; he bade his son, who was my schoolfellow, invite me."

LIONEL.--"You knew his son? How Mr. Darrell has felt that loss!"

GEORGE.--"Heaven often veils its most provident mercy in what to man
seems its sternest inflictions. That poor boy must have changed his
whole nature, if his