e been putting some old maid's
rubbish into the sale," murmured Mr. Toller, getting close to the
auctioneer. "I want to see how the prints go, and I must be off soon."

"_Im_mediately, Mr. Toller. It was only an act of benevolence which
your noble heart would approve. Joseph! quick with the prints--Lot
235. Now, gentlemen, you who are connoiss_ures_, you are going to have
a treat. Here is an engraving of the Duke of Wellington surrounded by
his staff on the Field of Waterloo; and notwithstanding recent events
which have, as it were, enveloped our great Hero in a cloud, I will be
bold to say--for a man in my line must not be blown about by political
winds--that a finer subject--of the modern order, belonging to our own
time and epoch--the understanding of man could hardly conceive: angels
might, perhaps, but not men, sirs, not men."

"Who painted it?" said Mr. Powderell, much impressed.

"It is a proof before the letter, Mr. Powderell--the painter is not
known," answered Trumbull, with a certain gaspingness in his last
words, after which he pursed up his lips and stared round him.

"I'll bid a pound!" said Mr. Powderell, in a tone of resolved emotion,
as of a man ready to put himself in the breach. Whether from awe or
pity, nobody raised the price on him.

Next came two Dutch prints which Mr. Toller had been eager for, and
after he had secured them he went away. Other prints, and afterwards
some paintings, were sold to leading Middlemarchers who had come with a
special desire for them, and there was a more active movement of the
audience in and out; some, who had bought what they wanted, going away,
others coming in either quite newly or from a temporary visit to the
refreshments which were spread under the marquee on the lawn. It was
this marquee that Mr. Bambridge was bent on buying, and he appeared to
like looking inside it frequently, as a foretaste of its possession.
On the last occasion of his return from it he was observed to bring
with him a new companion, a stranger to Mr. Trumbull and every one
else, whose appearance, however, led to the supposition that he might
be a relative of the horse-dealer's--also "given to indulgence." His
large whiskers, imposing swagger, and swing of the leg, made him a
striking figure; but his suit of black, rather shabby at the edges,
caused the prejudicial inference that he was not able to afford himself
as much indulgence as he liked.

"Who is it you've picked up, B