atoning for its spring thinness and scantiness by a vivid energy of
colour; while straight across the court, beyond the rich patchwork of the
roofs and the picturesque outlines of the chimneys, a delicate piece of
white stone-work rose into air--the spire of one of Wren's churches, as
dainty, as perfect, and as fastidiously balanced as the hand of man could
leave it.

Inside, the room was such as fitted a studious bachelor of means. The
book-cases on the walls held old college classics and law-books
underneath, and above a miscellaneous literary library, of which the
main bulk was French, while the side-wings, so to speak, had that
tempting miscellaneous air--here a patch of German, there an island
of Italian; on this side rows of English poets, on the other an
abundance of novels of all languages--which delights the fond heart of
the book-lover. The pictures were mostly autotypes and photographs from
subjects of Italian art, except in one corner, where a fine little
collection of French historical engravings completely covered the wall,
and drew a visitor's attention by the brilliancy of their black and
white. On the writing-table were piles of paper-covered French books,
representing for the most part the palmy days of the Romantics, though
every here and there were intervening strata of naturalism, balanced in
their turn by recurrent volumes of Sainte-Beuve. The whole had a studious
air. The books were evidently collected with a purpose, and the piles of
orderly MSS. lying on the writing-table seemed to sum up and explain
their surroundings.

The only personal ornament of the room was a group of photographs on the
mantelpiece. Two were faded and brown, and represented Kendal's parents,
both of whom had been dead some years. The other was a large cabinet
photograph of a woman no longer very young--a striking-looking woman,