was something peculiar in that gaze. It was obviously one of pride in its object; but there was also sadness, which gradually changed into an expression of harsh determination. There was something, however, contagious in the glad, frank greeting of his nephew; something, too, in the soft clear morning air, that Lord Norbourne could not quite resist. He sprang on horseback with a feeling of vague enjoyment, which he was as little as any man in the habit of experiencing.
"Whither shall we ride," said he, after they had cantered a little distance over the soft grass of the park. The influence of custom, that second nature, stronger even than the first, was upon him; he had enjoyed himself quite enough—he now wanted an object.
"There is a splendid view from those hills, or"
Here Norbourne was interrupted by his uncle laughing much louder than he often permitted himself to do.
"Why, my dear boy," exclaimed he, "what have you ever seen in me to imagine I cared
