celebrated artists of the age, the exploits of the Black Prince; and its
coved ceiling, in panels resplendent with Venetian gold, contained the
forms and portraits of English heroes. A corridor round this hall
contained the most celebrated private collection of pictures in England
and opened into a series of sumptuous saloons.

It was a rather early hour when Lothair, the morning after his meeting
the duchess at Lady St. Jerome's, called at Crecy House; but it was only
to leave his card. He would not delay for a moment paying his respects
there, and yet he shrank from thrusting himself immediately into the
circle. The duke's brougham was in the court-yard. Lothair was holding
his groom's horse, who had dismounted, when the hall-door opened, and
his grace and Bertram came forth.

"Halloa, old fellow!" exclaimed Bertram, "only think of your being here.
It seems an age since we met. The duchess was telling us about you at
breakfast."

"Go in and see them," said the duke, "there is a large party at
luncheon; Augusta Montairy is there. Bertram and I are obliged to go to
Lincoln's Inn, something about his election."

But Lothair murmured thanks and declined.

"What are you going to do with yourself to-day?" said the duke. And
Lothair hesitating, his grace continued: "Well, then, come and dine
with us."

"Of course you will come, old fellow. I have not seen you since you
left Oxford at the beginning of the year. And then we can settle about