what had become of Shylock's descendant.

Mrs. Waddy welcomed us when we alighted. Do not imagine that it was at
the door of her old house. It was in a wide street opening on a splendid
square, and pillars were before the houses, and inside there was the
enchantment of a little fountain playing thin as whipcord, among ferns,
in a rock-basin under a window that glowed with kings of England, copied
from boys' history books. All the servants were drawn up in the hall to
do homage to me. They seemed less real and living than the wonder of the
sweet-smelling chairs, the birds, and the elegant dogs. Richest of
treats, a monkey was introduced to me. 'It 's your papa's whim,' Mrs.
Waddy said, resignedly; 'he says he must have his jester. Indeed it is no
joke to me.'

Yet she smiled happily, though her voice was melancholy. From her I now
learnt that my name was Richmond Roy, and not Harry Richmond. I said,
'Very well,' for I was used to change. Everybody in the house wore a
happy expression of countenance, except the monkey, who was too busy. As
we mounted the stairs I saw more kings of England painted on the
back-windows. Mrs. Waddy said: 'It is considered to give a monarchical
effect,'--she coughed modestly after the long word, and pursued: 'as it
should.' I insisted upon going to the top floor, where I expected to find
William the Conqueror, and found him; but that strong connecting link
between John Thresher and me presented himself only to carry my
recollections of the Dipwell of yesterday as far back into the past as
the old Norman days.

'And down go all the kings, downstairs,' I said, surveying them
consecutively.

'Yes,' she replied, in a tone that might lead one to think it their
lamentable fate. 'And did the people look at you as you drove along
through the streets, Master Richmond?'

I said 'Yes,' in turn; and then we left off answering, but questioned one
another, which is a quicker way of getting at facts; I know it is with
boys and women. Mrs. Waddy cared much less to hear of Dipwell and its
inhabitants than of the sensation created everywhere by our equipage. I
noticed that when her voice was not melancholy her face was. She showed
me a beautiful little pink bed, having a crown over it, in a room opening
to my father's. Twenty thousand magnificent dreams seemed to flash their
golden doors when I knew that the bed was mine. I thought it almost as
nice as a place by my father's side.

'Don't you like it, M