g to the general fund of
approbation?" said Sir Wynston, who was gifted by nature with an amiable
talent for teasing, which he was fond of exercising in a quiet way. "We
have all, but you, said something handsome of our absent young friend."

"I never praise anybody, Wynston; not even you," said Marston, with an
obvious sneer.

"Well, well, I must comfort myself with the belief that your silence
covers a great deal of good-will, and, perhaps, a little admiration,
too," answered his cousin, significantly.

"Comfort yourself in any honest way you will, my dear Wynston," retorted
Marston, with a degree of asperity, which, to all but the baronet
himself, was unaccountable. "You may be right, you may be wrong; on a
subject so unimportant it matters very little which; you are at perfect
liberty to practice delusions, if you will, upon yourself."

"By-the-bye, Mr. Marston, is not your son about to come down here?" asked
Doctor Danvers, who perceived that the altercation was becoming, on
Marston's part, somewhat testy, if not positively rude.

"Yes; I expect him in a few days," replied he, with a sudden gloom.

"You have not seen him, Sir Wynston?" asked the clergyman.

"I have that pleasure yet to come," said the baronet.

"A pleasure it is, I do assure you," said Doctor Danvers, heartily. "He
is a handsome lad, with the heart of a hero--a fine, frank, generous lad,
and as merry as a lark."

"Yes, yes," interrupted Marston; "he is well enough, and has done pretty
well at Cambridge. Doctor Danvers, take some wine."

It was strange, but yet mournfully true, that the praises which the good
Doctor Danvers thus bestowed upon his son were bitter to the soul of the
unhappy Marston. They jarred upon his ear, and stung his heart; for his
conscience converted them into so many latent insults and humiliations
to himself.

"Your wine is very good, Marston. I think your clarets are many degrees
better than any I can get," said Sir Wynston, sipping a glass of his
favorite wine. "You country gentlemen are sad selfish dogs; and, with all
your grumbling, manage to collect the best of whatever is worth having
about you."

"We sometimes succeed in collecting a pleasant party," retorted Marston,
with ironical courtesy, "though we do not always command the means of
entertaining them quite as we would wish."

It was the habit of Doctor Danvers, without respect of persons or
places, to propose, before taking his departure from whateve