great amends; at all events, while the opportunity was afforded him,
which he well knew might be lost forever by his own imprudence, or
through the caprice of another, he resolved not to neglect it. It was
broad daylight, yet not a soul was stirring in all the stately place;
nothing but the echo of his own footsteps, as he trod the corridor, and
entered the great Picture-gallery, met his attentive ear. The collection
of old masters at Crompton was varied and valuable; he could have spent
hours among them with infinite pleasure, if the intoxicating thought
that they all might be one day his own had not been present to mar their
charms. He regarded them less as an admiring disciple, or a connoisseur,
than as an appraiser. The homely life-scenes of Jan Stein, the saintly
creations of Paul Veronese, the warmth of Rubens, and the stateliness of
Vandyck, were all measured by one standard--that of price. The contents
of this one room alone, thought he, "represent no moderate fortune."

When his eye strayed to the tall windows, and rested on the wooded acres
which owned in mad Carew a nominal master, the beauty of dale and upland
touched him not at all. "I wonder now," sighed he, "how much of this is
dipped?" It was a good sign, he thought, that in one room he found a
cabinet containing no less than fifty antique cameos; for, if the
pressure of pecuniary difficulty had really begun to be severe, the
Squire would surely have parted with what must have been in his view
useless lumber, and was so easily convertible into cash. The Library
offered a strange spectacle: chairs thrown down, and broken glasses,
bore witness to the wildness of last night's revel; the splendid carpet
was strewn with the ends and ashes of cigars, and with packs of cards;
and on the table, scratched in all directions by the sharp spurs of
fighting-cocks, still lay the dice and caster. The atmosphere was so
heavy with the fumes of wine and smoke that Yorke was glad to escape
from it, through a half-opened window, into the morning air.