yourself; and if I had thirty-five thousand pounds a year, I would marry
too."

"You would! Old fool!" said Darrell, turning away.




CHAPTER IV.

Revealing glimpses of Guy Darrell's past in his envied prime. Dig
but deep enough, and under all earth runs water, under all life runs
grief.

Alone in the streets, the vivacity which had characterized Darrell's
countenance as well as his words, while with his old school friend,
changed as suddenly and as completely into pensive abstracted gloom
as if he had been acting a part, and with the exit the acting ceased.
Disinclined to return yet to the solitude of his home, he walked on at
first mechanically, in the restless desire of movement, he cared not
whither. But as, thus chance-led, he found himself in the centre of that
long straight thoroughfare which connects what once were the separate
villages of Tyburn and Holborn, something in the desultory links of
revery suggested an object to his devious feet. He had but to follow
that street to his right hand, to gain in a quarter of an hour a sight of
the humble dwelling-house in which he had first settled down, after his
early marriage, to the arid labours of the bar. He would go, now that,
wealthy and renowned, he was revisiting the long-deserted focus of
English energies, and contemplate the obscure abode in which his powers
had been first concentrated on the pursuit of renown and wealth. Who