drawing him out. The young man now for the first time basked in the
sweets of society; in a fortnight, to Mr. Hargrave's horror, was
rolling in its vortex; in a couple of months found himself indulging
in, and avowing, a hopeless passion; and in three, was once again in
his native land, falsely deeming that his peace of mind had fled for
ever. He was shortly, however, called upon to exert his energies. The
death of his uncle suddenly made him, to his very great surprise, one
of the wealthiest commoners of England. At this period he was quite
unknown. In a short time Mr. Hargrave and himself were lodged
luxuriously--were deep in the pursuit of science, literature, and the
belle arte--and on terms of friendship with the cleverest and most
original men of the day. Mr. Graeme's occupations being sedentary, and
his habits very regular, he shortly found that his great wealth enabled
him, not only to indulge in every personal luxury at Rendlesham Park,
but to patronise largely every literary work of merit. In him the needy
man of genius found a friend, the man of wit a companion, and the
publisher a generous customer. He became famous for his house, his
library, his exclusive society. But he did not become spoilt by his
prosperity, and never neglected his old tutor.

Our party from Delme were ushered into a large drawing-room, the sole
light of which was from an immense bow window, looking out on the
extensive lawn. The panes were of enormous size, and beautiful specimens
of classique plated glass. The only articles of furniture, were some
crimson ottomans which served to set off the splendid paintings; and one
table of the Florentine manufacture of pietra dura, on which stood a
carved bijou of Benvenuto Cellini's. Our party were early. They were
welcomed by Mr. Graeme with great cordiality, and by Mr. Hargrave with
some embarrassment, for the tutor was still the bashful man of former
days. Mr. Graeme's dress shamed these degenerate days of black stock and