ng all the indulgent kindness of the family,
in continuing a course of life which she was conscious to them
was sometimes an inconvenience and always a disappointment. It was
impossible to deny that she was interested and amused by the world which
she now witnessed--so energetic, so restless, so various; so full of
urgent and pressing life; never thinking of the past and quite heedless
of the future, but worshipping an almighty present that sometimes seemed
to roll on like the car of Juggernaut. She was much diverted by the
gentlemen of the Stock Exchange, so acute, so audacious, and differing
so much from the merchants in the style even of their dress, and in the
ease, perhaps the too great facility, of their bearing. They called each
other by their Christian names, and there were allusions to practical
jokes which intimated a life something between a public school and
a garrison. On more solemn days there were diplomatists and men in
political office; sometimes great musical artists, and occasionally a
French actor. But the dinners were always the same; dishes worthy of the
great days of the Bourbons, and wines of rarity and price, which could
not ruin Neuchatel, for in many instances the vineyards belonged to
himself.

One morning at breakfast, when he rarely encountered them, but it was
a holiday in the City, Mr. Neuchatel said, "There are a few gentlemen
coming to dine here to-day whom you know, with one exception. He is a
young man, a very nice young fellow. I have seen a good deal of him of
late on business in the City, and have taken a fancy to him. He is a
foreigner, but he was partly educated in this country and speaks English
as well as any of us."

"Then I suppose he is not a Frenchman," said Mrs. Neuchatel, "for they
never speak English."

"I shall not say what he is. You must all find out; I dare say Miss
Ferrars will discover him; but, remember, you must all of you pay him
great attention, for he is not a common person, I can assure you."

"You are mysterious, Adrian," said his wife, "and quite pique our
curiosity."

"Well, I wish somebody would pique mine," said the banker. "These
holidays in the City are terrible things. I think I will go after
breakfast and look at the new house, and I dare say Miss Ferrars will be
kind enough to be my companion."

Several of the visitors, fortunately for the banker whose time hung
rather heavily on his hands, arrived an hour or so before dinner, that
they migh