And I own, George, that I envy the masters who skilled to the Preacher's
art an intellect like yours."

"Masters," said the Colonel. "I thought all those elocution masters
failed with you, George. You cured and taught yourself. Did not you?
No! Why, then, who was your teacher?"

George looked very much embarrassed, and, attempting to answer, began
horribly to stutter.

Darrell, conceiving that a preacher whose fame was not yet confirmed
might reasonably dislike to confess those obligations to elaborate study,
which, if known, might detract from his effect or expose him to ridicule,
hastened to change the subject. "You have been to the country, I hear,
George; at your living, I suppose?"

"No. I have not been there very lately; travelling about."

"Have you seen Lady Montfort since your return?" asked the Colonel.

"I only returned on Saturday night. I go to Lady Montfort's at
Twickenham, this evening."

"She has a delightful retreat," said the Colonel. "But if she wish
to avoid admiration, she should not make the banks of the river her
favourite haunt. I know some romantic admirers, who, when she re-appears
in the world, may be rival aspirants, and who have much taken to rowing
since Lady Montfort has retired to Twickenham. They catch a glimpse of
her, and return to boast of it. But they report that there is a young
lady seen walking with her an extremely pretty one--who is she? People