s, the
partial baldness of his unfurrowed open forehead, looked his full
age,--deep into middle life. Unmistakably he seemed the pater familias,
the husband and the father, the man of social domestic ties. But about
Audley (really some few years junior to the squire), despite the lines
of care on his handsome face, there still lingered the grace of youth.
Men of cities retain youth longer than those of the country,--a remark
which Buffon has not failed to make and to account for. Neither did
Egerton betray the air of the married man; for ineffable solitariness
seemed stamped upon one whose private life had long been so stern a
solitude. No ray from the focus of Home played round that reserved,
unjoyous, melancholy brow. In a word, Audley looked still the man for
whom some young female heart might fondly sigh; and not the less because
of the cold eye and compressed lip, which challenged interest even while
seeming to repel it.

Audley was the first to speak, and to put forth the right hand, which
he stole slowly from its place at his breast, on which the lock of hair
still stirred to and fro at the heave of the labouring heart. "William,"
said he, with his rich deep voice, "this is kind. You are come to see
me, now that men say that I am fallen. The minister you censured is no
more; and you see again the brother."

The squire was softened at once by this address. He shook heartily the
hand tendered to him; and then, turning away his head, with an honest
conviction that Audley ascribed to him a credit which he did not
deserve, he said, "No, no, Audley; I am more selfish than you think me.
I have come--I have come to ask your advice,--no, not exactly that--your
opinion. But you are busy?"

"Sit down, William. Old days were coming over me when you entered; days
earlier still return now,--days, too, that leave no shadow when their
suns are set."

The proud man seemed to think he had said too much. His practical nature
rebuked the poetic sentiment and phrase. He re-collected himself, and
added, more coldly, "You would ask my opinion? What on? Some public
matter--some parliamentary bill that may affect your property?"

"Am I such a mean miser as that? Property--property? what does property
matter, when a man is struck down at his own hearth? Property, indeed!
But you have no child--happy brother!"

"Ay, ay; as you say, I am a happy man; childless! Has your son
displeased you? I have heard him well spoken of, too."

"D