ther
over the mantelpiece. Books strewed tables, chairs, and floors in the
disorder loved by habitual students. Near the window was a glass bowl
containing gold-fish, and close by, in its cage, a singing-bird. Darrell
might exist without companionship in the human species, but not without
something which he protected and cherished,--a bird, even a fish.

Darrell looked really ill: his keen eye was almost dim, and the lines
in his face seemed deeper. But he spoke with his usual calm, passionless
melody of voice.

"Yes," he said, in answer to Lionel's really anxious inquiry; "I am ill.
Idle persons like me give way to illness. When I was a busy man, I never
did; and then illness gave way to me. My general plans are thus, if not
actually altered, at least hurried to their consummation sooner than I
expected. Before you came here, I told you to come soon, or you might
not find me. I meant to go abroad this summer; I shall now start at
once. I need the change of scene and air. You will return to London
to-day."

"To-day! You are not angry with me?"

"Angry! boy and cousin--no!" resumed Darrell, in a tone of unusual
tenderness. "Angry-fie! But since the parting must be, 't is well to
abridge the pain of long farewell. You must wish, too, to see your
mother, and thank her for rearing you up so that you may step from
poverty into ease with a head erect. You will give to Mrs. Haughton this
letter: for yourself, your inclinations seem to tend towards the army.
But before you decide on that career, I should like you to see something
more of the world. Call to-morrow on Colonel Morley, in Curzon Street:
this is his address. He will receive by to-day's post a note from me,
requesting him to advise you. Follow his counsels in what belongs to the
world. He is a man of the world,--a distant connection of mine, who
will be kind to you for my sake. Is there more to say? Yes. It seems an
ungracious speech; but I should speak it. Consider yourself sure from
me of an independent income. Never let idle sycophants lead you into
extravagance by telling you that you will have more. But indulge not the
expectation, however plausible, that you will be my heir."

"Mr. Darrell--oh, sir--"

"Hush! the expectation would be reasonable; but I am a strange being. I
might marry again,--have heirs of my own. Eh, sir,--Oh why not?" Darrell
spoke these last words almost fiercely, and fixed his eyes on Lionel
as he repeated,--"Why not?" But seeing tha