or palliation; still, the whole habit of his mind
through life had impressed him with a disparaging opinion of himself.
The limited sphere of his duties, the humble routine of his daily walk,
and the very few friendships he had inspired, all tended to increase
this impression, till at last he looked upon himself as one who could
only be useful by the sacrifice of personal feeling and the abnegation
of all self-esteem; and thus he would have declined to know another
man for what he deemed of no consequence in himself. His fault was not
thinking too well of others, but thinking too meanly of himself.

The scene before him now was enough to suggest deep anxiety. Notes and
letters littered the floor and the table; the embers of a large fire of
papers lay on the hearth; open drawers and boxes stood on every
side; all betokening preparation, the object of which the pistol-case
sufficiently indicated. As they sat with their backs to the window,
Grounsell could not recognize the figures; but the voice of one
proclaimed him to be George Onslow.

"And where is this place on the way to Arezzo?" asked he.

"No; on the opposite side of the city, off the high-road to Bologna. It
is a little park, surrounding a summer palace of the Grand Duke, they
call Pratolino," said the other. "They all agree that it is the best
spot to be found; no molestation, nor interference of any kind; and a
capital breakfast of fresh trout to be had at the inn."

"An interesting consideration for such as have good appetites," said
Onslow, laughing.

"I never saw a Frenchman who had not, on such an occasion," rejoined the
other, snapping the pistol as he spoke. "I like these straight stocks;
you are almost always certain of your man, with a stiff arm and a low
aim."

"I don't know that I 've forgotten anything, Norwood," said Onslow,
rising and pacing the room with folded arms.

"You 've written to the governor?"

"Yes; and mentioned those acceptances," said Onslow, with a sneering
severity that the other never seemed to notice. "You're quite safe,
whatever happens."

"Hang it, man, I wasn't thinking of that; curse the money, it never
entered my thoughts."

"My father will pay it," said George, dryly, and continued his walk.

"As you have alluded to it, I hope you spoke of it as a loan, anything
like a play transaction suggests a mess of scandal and stories."

"I have called it a debt, and that is quite sufficient."

"All right whatever you l