was, of course,
nothing; but it was open and marked recognition. She expected that Felix
(after his wont in former times, before love or marriage was thought of
for Aurora) would have come upon this distinct invitation, and taken his
stand behind her, after the custom. But as he did not come, fresh guests
and the duties of hospitality distracted her attention, and she again
forgot him.

He was, indeed, more hurt than pleased with the favour that had been
shown him; it seemed to him (though really prompted by the kindest
feeling) like a bone cast at a dog. He desired to be so regarded that no
special mark of favour should be needed. It simply increased his
discontent. The evening wore on, the supper began; how weary it seemed
to him, that long and jovial supper, with the ale that ran in a
continual stream, the wine that ceaselessly circled round, the jokes,
and bustle, and laughter, the welcome to guests arriving; the cards, and
chess, and games that succeeded it, the drinking, and drinking, and
drinking, till the ladies again left; then drinking yet more freely.

He slipped away at the first opportunity, and having first strolled to
and fro on the bowling green, wet with dew, at the rear of the castle,
asked for his bedroom. It was some time before he could get attended to;
he stood alone at the foot of the staircase while others went first
(their small coins bought them attention), till at last a lamp was
brought to him, and his chamber named. This chamber, such as it was, was
the only pleasure, and that a melancholy one, he had had that day.

Though overflowing with guests, so that the most honoured visitors could
not be accommodated within the castle, and only the ladies could find
sleeping room there, yet the sacred law of honour, the pledge of the
hearth-friend passed three generations ago, secured him this privilege.
The hearth-friend must sleep within, if a king were sent without.
Oliver, of course, would occupy the same room, but he was drinking and
shouting a song below, so that for a while Felix had the chamber to
himself.

It pleased him, because it was the room in which he had always slept
when he visited the place from a boy, when, half afraid and yet
determined to venture, he had first come through the lonely forest
alone. How well he remembered that first time! the autumn sunshine on
the stubble at Old House, and the red and brown leaves of the forest as
he entered; how he entered on foot, and twice