spirits. But his young kinsman described him to me as in good health,—wonderfully young-looking for his years. But cheerful,—no! Darrell and I entered the world together; we were friends as much as a man so busy and so eminent as he could be friends with a man like myself, indolent by habit and obscure out of Mayfair. I know his nature; we both know something of his family sorrows. He cannot be happy! Impossible!--alone, childless, secluded. Poor Darrell, abroad now; in Verona, too!--the dullest place! in mourning still for Romeo and Juliet! 'T is your turn to move. In his letter Darrell talked of going on to Greece, Asia, penetrating into the depths of Africa,—the wildest schemes! Dear County Guy, as we called him at Eton! what a career his might have been! Don't let us talk of him, it makes me mournful. Like Goethe, I avoid painful subjects upon principle."
LADY MONTFORT.—"No; we will not talk of him. No; I take the Queen's pawn. No, we will not talk of him! no!" The game proceeded; the Colonel was within three moves of checkmating his adversary. Forgetting the resolution come to, he said, as she paused, and seemed despondently meditating a hopeless defence,
"Pray, my fair cousin, what makes Montfort dislike my old friend Darrell?"
"Dislike! Does he! I don't know. Vanquished again, Colonel Morley!" She rose; and as he restored the chessmen to their box, she leaned thoughtfully over the table.
"This young kinsman, will he not be a comfort to Mr. Darrell?"
"He would be a comfort and a pride to a father; but to Darrell, so distant a kinsman,—comfort!--why and how? Darrell will provide for him, that is all. A very gentlemanlike young man; gone to Paris by my advice; wants polish and knowledge of life. When he comes back he must enter society: I have put his name up at White's; may I introduce him to you?"
Lady Montfort hesitated, and, after a pause, said, almost rudely, "No."
She left the Colonel, slightly shrugging his shoulders, and passed into the billiard-room with a quick step. Some ladies were already there looking at the players. Lord Montfort was chalking his cue. Lady Montfort walked straight up to him: her colour was heightened; her lip was quivering; she placed her hand on his shoulder with a wife-like boldness. It seemed as if she had come there to seek him from an impulse
