d disappeared.

Led up an uneven staircase of oak, black as ebony, with huge
balustrades, and newel-posts supporting clumsy balls, Lionel was
conducted to a small chamber, modernized a century ago by a faded
Chinese paper, and a mahogany bedstead, which took up three-fourths of
the space, and was crested with dingy plumes, that gave it the cheerful
look of a hearse; and there the attendant said, "Have you the key of
your knapsack, sir? shall I put out your things to dress?" Dress! Then
for the first time the boy remembered that he had brought with him no
evening dress,--nay, evening dress, properly so called, he possessed
not at all in any corner of the world. It had never yet entered into
his modes of existence. Call to mind when you were a boy of seventeen,
"betwixt two ages hovering like a star," and imagine Lionel's
sensations. He felt his cheek burn as if he had been detected in a
crime. "I have no dress things," he said piteously; "only a change
of linen, and this," glancing at the summer jacket. The servant was
evidently a most gentleman-like man: his native sphere that of groom of
the chambers. "I will mention it to Mr. Darrell; and if you will favour
me with your address in London, I will send to telegraph for what you
want against to-morrow."

"Many thanks," answered Lionel, recovering his presence of mind; "I will
speak to Mr. Darrell myself."

"There is the hot water, sir; that is the bell. I have the honour to
be placed at your commands." The door closed, and Lionel unlocked his
knapsack; other trousers, other waistcoat had he,--those worn at the
fair, and once white. Alas! they had not since then passed to the care
of the laundress. Other shoes,--double-soled for walking. There was no
help for it but to appear at dinner, attired as he had been before, in
his light pedestrian jacket, morning waistcoat flowered with sprigs, and
a fawn-coloured nether man. Could it signify much,--only two men? Could
the grave Mr. Darrell regard such trifles?--Yes, if they intimated want
of due respect.

"Durum! sed fit levius Patientia
Quicquid corrigere est nefas."

On descending the stairs, the same high-bred domestic was in waiting to
show him into the library. Mr. Darrell was there already, in the simple
but punctilious costume of a gentleman who retains in seclusion the
habits customary in the world. At the first glance Lionel thought he
saw a slight cloud of displeasure on his host's brow. He went u