of the subject, and seemed aware of her imprudence, the Colonel rose,
with a request--cheerfully granted--that Lionel might be allowed to come
to breakfast with him the next morning.




CHAPTER XI.

A man of the world, having accepted a troublesome charge, considers
"what he will do with it;" and, having promptly decided, is sure,
first, that he could not have done better; and, secondly, that much
may be said to prove that he could not have done worse.

Reserving to a later occasion anymore detailed description of Colonel
Morley, it suffices for the present to say that he was a man of a very
fine understanding as applied to the special world in which he lived.
Though no one had a more numerous circle of friends, and though with many
of those friends he was on that footing of familiar intimacy which
Darrell's active career once, and his rigid seclusion of late, could not
have established with any idle denizen of that brilliant society in which
Colonel Morley moved and had his being, yet to Alban Morley's heart (a
heart not easily reached) no friend was so dear as Guy Darrell. They had
entered Eton on the same day, left it the same day, lodged while there in
the same house; and though of very different characters, formed one of
those strong, imperishable, brotherly affections which the Fates weave
into the very woof of existence.

Darrell's recommendation would have secured to any young protege Colonel
Morley's gracious welcome and invaluable advice. But, both as Darrell's