yell ringing on and on.

The earl unconsciously sought a refuge from it by turning the leaves of a
book upon the table, which was a complete edition of Harry Denham's
Poems, with a preface by a man named Lydiard; and really, to read the
preface one would suppose that these poets were the princes of the earth.
Lord Romfrey closed the volume. It was exquisitely bound, and presented
to Miss Denham by the Mr. Lydiard. 'The works of your illustrious
father,' was written on the title-page. These writers deal queerly with
their words of praise of one another. There is no law to restrain them.
Perhaps it is the consolation they take for the poor devil's life they
lead!

A lady addressing him familiarly, invited him to go upstairs.

He thanked her. At the foot of the stairs he turned; he had recognized
Cecilia Halkett.

Seeing her there was more strange to him than being there himself; but he
bowed to facts.

'What do you think?' he said.

She did not answer intelligibly.

He walked up.

The crazed gabbling tongue had entire possession of the house, and rang
through it at an amazing pitch to sustain for a single minute.