ting celebrity. To be pointed at as he walked
the streets, were he a hero, or had done, said, or written anything that
anybody remembered, though at first painful and embarrassing, for he was
shy, he could conceive ultimately becoming endurable, and not without a
degree of excitement, for he was ambitious; but to be looked at because
he was a young lord, and that this should be the only reason why the
public should be informed where he dined, or where he amused himself,
seemed to him not only vexatious but degrading. When he arrived,
however, at a bulletin of his devotions, he posted off immediately to
the Surrey Canal to look at a yacht there, and resolved not to lose
unnecessarily one moment in setting off for Jerusalem.

He had from the first busied himself about the preparations for his
voyage with all the ardour of youth; that is, with all the energy of
inexperience, and all the vigour of simplicity. As everything seemed
to depend upon his obtaining a suitable vessel, he trusted to no third
person; had visited Cowes several times; advertised in every paper;
and had already met with more than one yacht which at least deserved
consideration. The duchess was quite frightened at his progress. 'I
am afraid he has found one,' she said to Lord Eskdale; 'he will be off
directly.'

Lord Eskdale shook his head. 'There are always things of this sort in
the market. He will inquire before he purchases, and he will find that
he has got hold of a slow coach.'

'A slow coach!' said the duchess, looking inquiringly. 'What is that?'

'A tub that sails like a collier, and which, instead of taking him to
Jerusalem, will hardly take him to Newcastle.'

Lord Eskdale was right. Notwithstanding all his ardour, all his
inquiries, visits to Cowes and the Surrey Canal, advertisements and
answers to advertisements, time flew on, and Tancred was still without a
yacht.

In this unsettled state, Tancred found himself one evening at Deloraine
House. It was not a ball, it was only a dance, brilliant and select;
but, all the same, it seemed to Tancred that the rooms could not be
much more crowded. The name of the Marquess of Montacute, as it was sent
along by the servants, attracted attention. Tancred had scarcely entered
the world, his appearance had made a sensation, everybody talked of him,
many had not yet seen him.

'Oh! that is Lord Montacute,' said a great lady, looking through her
glass; 'very distinguished!'

'I tell you what,' w