e gave me his confidence, as far as I think he gave it to any
man."

"And did he always live in this way?"

"Always. He filled up the house with the vast collection of curiosities
and things that he had been sending home for years, and I expected that
he would entertain, and lead the life of an English gentleman; but no,
the house has been closed for twenty-five years."

Mr Girtle, a clean-shaven old gentleman, with yellow face, dark,
restless eyes and bright grey hair, took a pinch of snuff from a
handsome gold box, flicked a few grains from his white shirt-front, and
said "Hah."

"Had my uncle met with any great disappointment?" said the first
speaker, a frank-looking man with closely curling brown hair, and a
high, white forehead.

"What, to make him take to this strange life? Oh, no. He was peculiar,
but not unhappy. He liked to be alone, but he was always bright and
cheerful at his club."

"You met him there, then?" said a fresh voice, and a handsome, dark
young fellow, who had been leaning back in an easy chair in the dim
drawing-room, sat up quickly, playing with his little black moustache.

"Oh, yes! I used to dine with Colonel Capel when we had business to
transact."

"But, here you say he led the life of a miser!" continued the young man,
crossing his legs, and examining the toe of his patent leather boot.

"I beg your pardon, Mr Gerard Artis, I did not say that. Your great
uncle was no miser. He spent money freely, sometimes, in charities.
Yes," he continued, turning to where two ladies were seated. "Colonel
Capel was often very charitable."

"I never saw his name in any charitable list," said the darker of the
two ladies, speaking in a sweet, silvery voice; and her beautiful
regular features seemed to attract both the previous speakers.

"No, Miss D'Enghien, I suppose not," said the old man, nodding his head
and rising to begin walking up and down, snuff-box in hand. "Neither
did I. But he was very charitable in his own particular way, and he was
very kind."

"Yes," said the young man who had first spoken; "very kind. I have him
to thank for my school and college education."

"Well--yes," said the old lawyer; "I suppose it is no breach of
confidence to say that it is so."

"And I have to thank him for mine, and the pleasant life I have led, Mr
Girtle, have I not?" said the second of the ladies; and, but for the
gloom, the flush that came into her sweet face would have been plainl