t Friday
for which my father had invited his friends to dinner. With all
his waywardness, and all the weaknesses of an impulsive nature, Dan
MacNaghten stood higher in my father's esteem than any other of his
friends. It was not alone that he had given my father the most signal
proofs of his friendship, but that, throughout his whole career, marked
as it was by folly and rashness, and the most thoughtless extravagance,
he had never done a single action that reflected on his reputation as a
man of honor, nor, in all the triumphs of his prosperous days, or in the
trials of his adverse ones, had be forfeited the regard of any who knew
him. My father had intrusted to him, during his absence, everything that
could be done without correspondence; for amongst Dan's characteristics.
none was more remarkable than his horror of letter-writing; and it was
a popular saying of the time "that Dan MacNaghten would rather fight two
duels than write one challenge." Of course, it may be imagined how much
there was for two such friends to talk over when they met, for if my
father's letters were few and brief, MacNaghten's were still fewer and
less explicit, leaving voids on either side that nothing but a meeting
could supply.

Early, therefore, that Friday morning, Dan's gig and mottled gray, the
last remnant of an extensive stable establishment, rattled up the avenue
of Castle Carew, and MacNaghten strolled into the garden to loiter about
till such time as my father might be stirring. He was not many minutes
there, however, when my father joined him, and the two friends embraced
cordially, and arm-in-arm returned to the house.

It was not without astonishment Dan saw that the breakfast-table was
spread in the same little garden-room which my father always used in his
bachelor days, and, still more, that only two places were laid.

"You are wondering, where's my wife, Dan. She never breakfasts with me;
nor indeed, do we see each other till late in the afternoon,--a custom,
I will own, that I used to rebel against at first, but I 'm getting more
accustomed to it now. And, after all, Dan, it would be a great sacrifice
of all her comfort should I insist on a change; so I put up with it as
best I can."

"Perhaps she 'll see herself, in time, that these are not the habits
here."

"Perhaps so," said my father; "but usually French people think their
own ways the rule, and all others the exception. I suppose you were
surprised at my marriag