The first event took place on my return to my house in London. I
found among the letters waiting for me an invitation from Lord
Lepel to spend a few weeks with him at his country seat in
Sussex.

I had made so many excuses, in past years, when I received
invitations from my uncle, that I was really ashamed to plead
engagements in London again. There was no unfriendly feeling
between us. My only motive for keeping away from him took its
rise in dislike of the ordinary modes of life in an English
country-house. A man who feels no interest in politics, who cares
nothing for field sports, who is impatient of amateur music and
incapable of small talk, is a man out of his element in country
society. This was my unlucky case. I went to Lord Lepel's house
sorely against my will; longing already for the day when it would
be time to say good-by.

The routine of my uncle's establishment had remained unaltered
since my last experience of it.

I found my lord expressing the same pride in his collection of
old masters, and telling the same story of the wonderful escape
of his picture-gallery from fire--I renewed my acquaintance with
the same members of Parliament among the guests, all on the same
side in politics--I joined in the same dreary amusements--I
saluted the same resident priest (the Lepels are all born and
bred Roman Catholics)--I submitted to the same rigidly early
breakfast hour; and inwardly cursed the same peremptory bell,
ringing as a means of reminding us of our meals. The one change
that presented itself was a change out of the house. Death had