ripen his acquaintance with Mrs. Cameron. She did not, however, seem
to lend a very attentive ear to his preliminary commonplace remarks
about scenery or weather, but at his first pause, said,--

"Sir Thomas spoke about a Miss Travers: is she related to a gentleman
who was once in the Guards, Leopold Travers?"

"She is his daughter. Did you ever know Leopold Travers?"

"I have heard him mentioned by friends of mine long ago,--long ago,"
replied Mrs. Cameron with a sort of weary languor, not unwonted, in
her voice and manner; and then, as if dismissing the bygone
reminiscence from her thoughts, changed the subject.

"Lily tells me, Mr. Chillingly, that you said you were staying at Mr.
Jones's, Cromwell Lodge. I hope you are made comfortable there."

"Very. The situation is singularly pleasant."

"Yes, it is considered the prettiest spot on the brook-side, and used
to be a favourite resort for anglers; but the trout, I believe, are
growing scarce; at least, now that the fishing in the Thames is
improved, poor Mr. Jones complains that his old lodgers desert him.
Of course you took the rooms for the sake of the fishing. I hope the
sport may be better than it is said to be."

"It is of little consequence to me: I do not care much about fishing;
and since Miss Mordaunt calls the book which first enticed me to take
to it 'a cruel one,' I feel as if the trout had become as sacred as
crocodiles were to the ancient Egyptians."