end of the water came
sailing swiftly towards the bank on which Darrell reclined. He had
evidently made friends with them, and they rested their white breasts
close on the margin, seeking to claim his notice with a low hissing
salutation, which, it is to be hoped, they changed for something less
sibilant in that famous song with which they depart this life.

Darrell looked up. "They come to be fed," said he, "smooth emblems of
the great social union. Affection is the offspring of utility. I am
useful to them: they love me." He rose, uncovered, and bowed to the
birds in mock courtesy: "Friends, I have no bread to give you."

LIONEL.--"Let me run in for some. I would be useful too."

MR. DARRELL.--"Rival!--useful to my swans?"

LIONEL (tenderly).--"Or to you, sir."

He felt as if he had said too much, and without waiting for permission,
ran indoors to find some one whom he could ask for the bread.

"Sonless, childless, hopeless, objectless!" said Darrell, murmuringly to
himself, and sank again into revery.

By the time Lionel returned with the bread, another petted friend had
joined the master. A tame doe had caught sight of him from her covert
far away, came in light bounds to his side, and was pushing her delicate
nostril into his drooping hand. At the sound of Lionel's hurried step,
she took flight, trotted off a few paces, then turned, looking.

"I did not know you had deer here."

"Deer!--in this little paddock!--of course not; only that doe. Fairthorn
introduced her here. By the by," continued Darrell, who was now throwing
the bread to the swans, and had resumed his careless, unmeditative
manner, "you were not aware that I have a brother hermit,--a companion
be sides the swans and the doe. Dick Fairthorn is a year or two younger
than myself, the son of my father's bailiff. He was the cleverest boy at
his grammar-school. Unluckily he took to the flute, and unfitted
himself for the present century. He condescends, however, to act as my
secretary,--a fair classical scholar, plays chess, is useful to me,--I
am useful to him. We have an affection for each other. I never forgive
any one who laughs at him. The half-hour bell, and you will meet him at
dinner. Shall we come in and dress?"

They entered the house; the same man-servant was in attendance in the
hall. "Show Mr. Haughton to his room." Darrell inclined his head--I
use that phrase, for the gesture was neither bow nor nod--turned down a
narrow passage an