thout being
oppressed by too officious a service from her handmaid. In the house
itself some suitable and appropriate repairs and decorations--with such
articles of furniture as combined modern comfort with the ancient and
picturesque shapes of a former fashion--had redeemed the mansion from
all appearance of dreariness and neglect; while still was left to
its quaint halls and chambers the character which belonged to their
architecture and associations. It was surprising how much a little
exercise of simple taste had effected.

"I am glad you approve what I have done," said Maltravers. "I know
not how it was, but the desolation of the place when I returned to it
reproached me. We contract friendship with places as with human beings,
and fancy they have claims upon us; at least, that is my weakness."

"And an amiable one it is, too,--I share it. As for me, I look upon
Temple Grove as a fond husband upon a fair wife. I am always anxious to
adorn it, and as proud of its beauty as if it could understand and thank
me for my partial admiration. When I leave you I intend going to Paris,
for the purpose of attending a sale of the pictures and effects of M.
de-----. These auctions are to me what a jeweller's shop is to a lover;
but then, Ernest, I am an old bachelor."

"And I, too, am an Arcadian," said Maltravers, with a smile.

"Ah, but you are not too old for repentance. Burleigh now requires
nothing but a mistress."

"Perhaps it may soon receive that addition. I am yet undecided whether I
shall sell it."

"Sell it! sell Burleigh!--the last memorial of your mother's ancestry!
the classic retreat of the graceful Digbys! Sell Burleigh!"

"I had almost resolved to do so when I came hither; then I forswore the
intention: now again I sometimes sorrowfully return to the idea."

"And in Heaven's name, why?"

"My old restlessness returns. Busy myself as I will here, I find the
range of action monotonous and confined. I began too soon to draw around
me the large circumference of literature and action; and the small
provincial sphere seems to me a sad going back in life. Perhaps I
should not feel this, were my home less lonely; but as it is--no,
the wanderer's ban is on me, and I again turn towards the lands of
excitement and adventure."

"I understand this, Ernest; but why is your home so solitary? You
are still at the age in which wise and congenial unions are the most
frequently formed; your temper is domestic; your easy