en Mr. Trevanion comes in with a bundle of letters.

Answers to half the said letters fall to my share. Directions
verbal,--in a species of short-hand talk. While I write, Mr.
Trevanion reads the newspapers, examines what I have done, makes
notes therefrom,--some for Parliament, some for conversation, some for
correspondence,--skims over the Parliamentary papers of the morning, and
jots down directions for extracting, abridging, and comparing them with
others, perhaps twenty years old. At eleven he walks down to a Committee
of the House of Commons,--leaving me plenty to do,--till half-past
three, when he returns. At four, Fanny puts her head into the room--and
I lose mine. Four days in the week Mr. Trevanion then disappears for the
rest of the day; dines at Bellamy's or a club; expects me at the House
at eight o'clock, in case he thinks of something, wants a fact or
a quotation. He then releases me,--generally with a fresh list of
instructions. But I have my holidays, nevertheless. On Wednesdays and
Saturdays Mr. Trevanion gives dinners, and I meet the most eminent men
of the day, on both sides; for Trevanion is on both sides himself,--or
no side at all, which comes to the same thing. On Tuesdays Lady Ellinor
gives me a ticket for the Opera, and I get there at least in time for
the ballet. I have already invitations enough to balls and soirees,
for I am regarded as an only son of great expectations. I am treated as
becomes a Caxton who has the right, if he pleases, to put a De
before his name. I have grown very smart. I have taken a passion for
dress,--natural to eighteen. I like everything I do, and every one about
me. I am over head and ears in love with Fanny Trevanion, who breaks my
heart, nevertheless; for she flirts with two peers, a life-guardsman,
three old members of Parliament, Sir Sedley Beaudesert, one ambassador
and all his attaches and positively (the audacious minx!) with a bishop,
in full wig and apron, who, people say, means to marry again.

Pisistratus has lost color and flesh. His mother says he is very much
improved,--that he takes to be the natural effect produced by Stultz and
Hoby. Uncle Jack says he is "fined down." His father looks at him and
writes to Trevanion,--

"Dear T.--I refused a salary for my son. Give him a horse, and two
hours a day to ride it. Yours, A. C."

The next day I am master of a pretty bay mare, and riding by the side of
Fanny Trevanion. Alas! alas!

CHAPTER