After that extraordinary figure of speech, "Good-nights" were somewhat
hastily exchanged; and Fairthorn was left; behind the curtain with
feelings towards all his master's guests as little, it is to be hoped,
like those of a Christian Bishop towards his fellow-creatures, as they
possibly could be.




CHAPTER VII.

"Domus et placens Uxor."

FAIRTHORN FINDS NOTHING /PLACENS/ IN THE /UXOR/, TO WHOM /DOMUS/ IS
INDEBTED FOR ITS DESTRUCTION.

Another day! Lionel is expected to arrive an hour or two after noon.
Darrell is in his room--his will once more before him. He has drawn up a
rough copy of the codicil by which Fawley is to pass away, and the name
of Darrell be consigned to the care of grateful Learning, linked with
prizes and fellowships;--a public property--lost for ever to private
representatives of its sepulchred bearers. Preparations for departure
from the doomed dwelling-house have begun. There are large boxes on the
floor; and favourite volumes--chiefly in science or classics--lie piled
beside them for selection.

What is really at the bottom of Guy Darrell's heart? Does he feel
reconciled to his decision? Is the virtue of his new self-sacrifice in
itself a consoling reward? Is that cordial urbanity, that cheerful
kindness, by which he has been yet more endearing himself to his guests,