retired on their pensions of renown--regard him as an intruder: then the
sneer, then the frown, the caustic irony, the biting review, the
depreciating praise. The novice begins to think that he is further from
the goal than before he set out upon the race.

Maltravers had, upon the whole, a tolerably happy temperament; but he
was a very proud man, and he had the nice soul of a courageous,
honourable, punctilious gentleman. He thought it singular that society
should call upon him, as a gentleman, to shoot his best friend, if that
friend affronted him with a rude word; and yet that, as an author, every
fool and liar might, with perfect impunity, cover reams of paper with
the most virulent personal abuse of him.

It was one evening in the early summer that, revolving anxious and
doubtful thoughts, Ernest sauntered gloomily along his terrace,

"And watched with wistful eyes the setting sun."

when he perceived a dusty travelling carriage whirled along the road by
the ha-ha, and a hand waved in recognition from the open window. His
guests had been so rare, and his friends were so few, that Maltravers
could not conjecture who was his intended visitant. His brother, he
knew, was in London. Cleveland, from whom he had that day heard, was at
his villa. Ferrers was enjoying himself in Vienna. Who could it be?
We may say of solitude what we please; but, after two years of solitude,
a visitor is a pleasurable excitement. Maltravers retraced his steps,
entered his house, and was just in time to find himself almost in the
arms of De Montaigne.