other the closing lines of Mrs. Browning's poem would come ever and anon
into his head as a sort of unceasing refrain:

"The true gods sigh for the cost and pain,--
For the reed that grows nevermore again
As a reed with the reeds in the river."




CHAPTER III.

NINA.


One morning Lionel was just about to go out (he had already been round
to the gymnasium and got his fencing over) when the house-porter came up
and said that a young lady wished to see him.

"What does she want?" he said, impatiently--for something had gone wrong
with the clasp of his cigarette-case, and he could not get it right.
"What's her name? Who is she?"

"She gave me her name, sir; but I did not quite catch it," said the
factotum of the house.

"Oh, well, send her up," said he; no doubt this was some trembling
_débutante_, accompanied by an ancient duenna and a roll of music. And
then he went to the window, to try to get the impenitent clasp to shut.