age. He had been educated at Harrow, and was now still at Cambridge;
but, of course, on such a day as this he was at home. That coming of
age must be a delightful time to a young man born to inherit broad
acres and wide wealth. Those full-mouthed congratulations; those warm
prayers with which his manhood is welcomed by the grey-haired seniors
of the county; the affectionate, all but motherly caresses of
neighbouring mothers who have seen him grow up from his cradle, of
mothers who have daughters, perhaps, fair enough, and good enough, and
sweet enough even for him; the soft-spoken, half-bashful, but tender
greetings of the girls, who now, perhaps for the first time, call him
by his stern family name, instructed by instinct rather than precept
that the time has come when the familiar Charles or familiar John must
by them be laid aside; the 'lucky dogs', and hints of silver spoons
which are poured into his ears as each young compeer slaps his back and
bids him live a thousand years and then never die; the shouting of the
tenantry, the good wishes of the old farmers who come up to wring his
hand, the kisses which he gets from the farmers' wives, and the kisses
which he gives to the farmers' daughters; all these things must make
the twenty-first birthday pleasant enough to a young heir. To a youth,
however, who feels that he is now liable to arrest, and that he
inherits no other privilege, the pleasure may very possibly not be
quite so keen.

The case with young Frank Gresham may be supposed to much nearer the
former than the latter; but yet the ceremony of his coming of age was
by no means like that which fate had accorded to his father. Mr
Gresham was not an embarrassed man, and though the world did not know
it, or, at any rate, did not know that he was deeply embarrassed, he
had not the heart to throw open his mansion and receive the county with
a free hand as though all things were going well for him.