or, indeed, I believe, five."

"What a strange man this must be!" said she, musingly. "Is it supposed
that he has formed any close attachments? Are his friends devoted to
him?"

"Attachments,--friendships! faith, I'm inclined to think it's little
time he'd waste on one or the other. Why, child, if what we hear be
true, he goes through the work of ten men every day of his life."

"Is he married?" asked she, after a pause.

"No; there was some story about a disappointment he met early in life.
When he was at Lord Glengariff's, I think, he fell in love with one of
the daughters, or she with him,--I never knew it rightly,--but it ended
in his being sent away; and they say he never got over it. Just as if
Davenport Dunn was a likely man either to fall in love or cherish
the memory of a first passion! I wish you saw him, Bella," said he,
laughing, "and the notion would certainly amuse you."

"But still men of his stamp have felt--ay, and inspired--the strongest
passions. I remember reading once--" "Reading, my darling,--reading is
one thing, seeing or knowing is another. The fellows that write these
things must invent what is n't likely,--what is nigh impossible,--or
nobody would read it What we see of a man or woman in a book is just the
exact reverse of what we 'll ever find in real life."

The girl could easily have replied to this assertion; indeed, the answer
was almost on her lips, when she restrained herself, and, hanging down
her head, fell into a musing fit.

CHAPTER IV. ONE WHO WOULD BE A "SHARP FELLOW."

One of the chief, perhaps the greatest, pleasures which Kellett's humble
lot still secured him, was a long country walk of a Sunday in company
with one who had been his friend in more prosperous times. A reduced
gentleman like himself, Annesley Beecher could only go abroad on this
one day in the week, and thus by the pressure of adverse fortune were
they thrown more closely together.

Although by no means a favorite with Bella, she was far too considerate
for her father, and too mindful of the few enjoyments that remained to
him, ever to interpose her real opinion. She therefore limited herself
to silence, as old Kellett would pronounce some glowing eulogy of
his friend, calling him "good" and "amiable" and "kind-hearted,"
and extolling, as little short of miraculous, "the spirits he had,
considering all he went through." But he would add, "He was always the
same, and that's the reason everybody lik