nd the ball dismiss them to their homes at a
time when the trades of ordinary regions move in their last sleep, and
dream of opening shutters and decking the windows of their shops.

At night, the chariot whirls round the frequent corners of these little
streets, and the opening valves of the mews vomit forth their legion
of broughams. At night, too, the footman, taking advantage of a ball
at Holdernesse, or a concert at Lansdowne House, and knowing that,
in either instance, the link-boy will answer when necessary for his
summoned name, ventures to look in at his club, reads the paper, talks
of his master or his mistress, and perhaps throws a main. The shops of
this district, depending almost entirely for their custom on the classes
we have indicated, and kept often by their relations, follow the order
of the place, and are most busy when other places of business are
closed.

A gusty March morning had subsided into a sunshiny afternoon, nearly two
years ago, when a young man, slender, above the middle height, with a
physiognomy thoughtful yet delicate, his brown hair worn long, slight
whiskers, on his chin a tuft, knocked at the door of a house in
Carrington Street, May Fair. His mien and his costume denoted a
character of the class of artists. He wore a pair of green trousers,
braided with a black stripe down their sides, puckered towards the
waist, yet fitting with considerable precision to the boot of French
leather that enclosed a well-formed foot. His waistcoat was of maroon
velvet, displaying a steel watch-chain of refined manufacture, and a
black satin cravat, with a coral brooch. His bright blue frockcoat was
frogged and braided like his trousers. As the knocker fell from the
primrose-coloured glove that screened his hand, he uncovered, and
passing his fingers rapidly through his hair, resumed his new silk hat,
which he placed rather on one side of his head.

'Ah! Mr. Leander, is it you?' exclaimed a pretty girl, who opened the
door and blushed.

'And how is the good papa, Eugenie? Is he at home? For I want to see him
much.'

'I will show you up to him at once, Mr. Leander, for he will be very
happy to see you. We have been thinking of hearing of you,' she added,
talking as she ushered her guest up the narrow staircase. 'The good papa
has a little cold: 'tis not much, I hope; caught at Sir Wallinger's, a
large dinner; they would have the kitchen windows open, which spoilt all
the entrees, and papa got a co