size, I offered him my own, he thought that I was laughing at him.
He began to be afraid that the story would get abroad, and he then
and there exacted a promise that I would never tell it during his
lifetime. I have kept my word; but now my old friend has been
gathered to his fathers, full of years.

At last I got him to the hotel. It was long before he would leave
the castle, cloaked though he was;--not, indeed, till the shades of
evening had dimmed the outlines of men and things, and made
indistinct the outward garniture of those who passed to and fro in
the streets. Then, wrapped in his cloak, Mr. Horne followed me
along the quays and through the narrowest of the streets; and at
length, without venturing to return the gaze of any one in the hotel
court, he made his way up to his own bedroom.

Dinnerless and supperless he went to his couch. But when there he
did consent to receive some consolation in the shape of mutton
cutlets and fried potatoes, a savory omelet, and a bottle of claret.
The mutton cutlets and fried potatoes at the Golden Fleece at
Antwerp are--or were then, for I am speaking now of well-nigh thirty
years since--remarkably good; the claret, also, was of the best; and
so, by degrees, the look of despairing dismay passed from his face,
and some scintillations of the old fire returned to his eyes.

"I wonder whether they find themselves much happier for what they
have got?" said he.

"A great deal happier," said I. "They'll boast of those things to
all their friends at home, and we shall doubtless see some account
of their success in the newspapers."