dreary vicissitudes of trade, and brightened only by such selfish
pleasures as constitute the recreations of a business man--an occasional
dinner at Blackwall or Richmond, a week's shooting in the autumn, a
little easy-going hunting in the winter, a hurried scamper over some of
the beaten continental roads, or a fortnight at a German spa? These had
been his pleasures hitherto, and he had found life pleasant enough.
Perhaps he had been too busy to question the pleasantness of these
things. It was only now that he found himself away from the familiar
arena of his daily life, with neither employment nor distraction, that
was able to look back upon his career deliberately, and risk himself
whether it was one that he could go on living without weariness for the
remainder of his days.

He had been at this time a little more than seven years in business. He
had been bred-up with no expectation of ever having to take his place in
the counting-house, had been educated at Eton and Oxford, and had been
taught to anticipate a handsome fortune from his father. All these
expectations had been disappointed by Mr. Fenton's sudden death at a
period of great commercial disturbance. The business was found in a state
of entanglement that was very near insolvency; and wise friends told
Gilbert Fenton that the only hope of coming well out of these
perplexities lay with himself. The business was too good to be
sacrificed, and the business was all his father had left behind him, with
the exception of a houseful of handsome furniture, two or three
carriages, and a couple of pairs of horses, which were sold by auction
within a few weeks of the funeral.

Gilbert Fenton took upon himself the management of the business. He had a
clear comprehensive intellect, which adapted itself very easily to
commerce. He put his shoulder to the wheel with a will, and worked for