from disturbing the congregation. You Lionel, will come with me."

LIONELL (embarrassed).--"No; you must excuse me. I have long been
engaged elsewhere."

"That's a pity," said the Colonel, gravely. "Lady Dulcett's conceit is
just one of the places where a young man should be seen." Colonel Morley
waved his hand with his usual languid elegance, and his hack cantered off
with him, stately as a charger, easy as a rocking-horse.

"Unalterable man," said Darrell, as his eye followed the horseman's
receding figure. "'Through all the mutations on Time's dusty high-road-
stable as a milestone. Just what Alban Morley was as a school-boy he is
now; and if mortal span were extended to the age of the patriarchs, just
what Alban Morley is now, Alban Morley would be a thousand years hence.
I don't mean externally, of course; wrinkles will come--cheeks will fade.
But these are trifles: man's body is a garment, as Socrates said before
me, and every seven years, according to the physiologists, man has a new
suit, fibre and cuticle, from top to toe. The interior being that wears
the clothes is the same in Alban Morley. Has he loved, hated, rejoiced,
suffered? Where is the sign? Not one. At school, as in life, doing
nothing, but decidedly somebody--respected by small boys, petted by big
boys--an authority with all. Never getting honours--arm and arm with
those who did; never in scrapes--advising those who were; imperturbable,
immovable, calm above mortal cares as an Epicurean deity. What can
wealth give that he has not got? In the houses of the richest he chooses
his room. Talk of ambition, talk of power--he has their rewards without
an effort. True prime minister of all the realm he cares for; good
society has not a vote against him--he transacts its affairs, he knows
its secrets--he yields its patronage. Ever requested to do a favour--no