respectable functionaries,--he re-entered his carriage, returned to town,
and after a lively dinner _tete-a-tete_ with an old _chere amie_, who, of
all her charms, had preserved only the attraction of conversation and the
capacity of relishing a _salami_, Mauleverer, the very evening of his
return, betook himself to the house of Sir William Brandon.

When he entered the hall, Barlow, the judge's favourite servant, met him,
with rather a confused and mysterious air, and arresting him as he was
sauntering into Brandon's library, informed him that Sir William was
particularly engaged, but would join his lordship in the drawing-room.
While Barlow was yet speaking, and Mauleverer was bending his right ear
(with which he heard the best) towards him, the library door opened, and
a man in a very coarse and ruffianly garb awkwardly bowed himself out.

"So this is the particular engagement," thought Mauleverer,--"a strange
Sir Pandarus; but those old fellows have droll tastes."

"I may go in now, my good fellow, I suppose?" said his lordship to
Barlow; and without waiting an answer, he entered the library. He found
Brandon alone, and bending earnestly over some letters which strewed his
table. Mauleverer carelessly approached, and threw himself into an
opposite chair. Sir William lifted his head, as he heard the movement;
and Mauleverer, reckless as was that personage, was chilled and almost
awed by the expression of his friend's countenance. Brandon's face was
one which, however pliant, nearly always wore one pervading character,--
calmness; whether in the smoothness of social courtesy, or the austerity
of his official station, or the bitter sarcasm which escaped him at no
unfrequent intervals, still a certain hard and inflexible dryness stamped
both his features and his air. But at this time a variety of feelings
not ordinarily eloquent in the outward man struggled in his dark face,