with Mr. Darrell's former
position in life, or with the fortune which Lionel vaguely supposed him
to possess, and considerably underrated. Like Sir Nicholas Bacon, the
man had grown too large for his habitation.

"I don't wonder," said Lionel, as, their wanderings over, he and
Fairthorn found themselves in the library, "that Mr. Darrell began to
build a new house. But it would have been a great pity to pull down this
for it."

"Pull down this! Don't hint at such an idea to Mr. Darrell. He would as
soon have pulled down the British Monarchy! Nay, I suspect, sooner."

"But the new building must surely have swallowed up the old one?"

"Oh, no; Mr. Darrell had a plan by which he would have enclosed this
separately in a kind of court, with an open screen-work or cloister;
and it was his intention to appropriate it entirely to mediaeval
antiquities, of which he has a wonderful collection. He had a notion
of illustrating every earlier reign in which his ancestors
flourished,--different apartments in correspondence with different
dates. It would have been a chronicle of national manners."

"But, if it be not an impertinent question, where is this collection? In
London?"

"Hush! hush! I will give you a peep of some of the treasures, only don't
betray me."

Fairthorn here, with singular rapidity, considering that he never moved
in a straightforward direction, undulated into the open air in front
of the house, described a rhomboid towards a side-buttress in the new
building, near to which was a postern-door; unlocked that door from a
key in his pocket, and, motioning Lionel to follow him, entered
within the ribs of the stony skeleton. Lionel followed in a sort of
supernatural awe, and beheld, with more substantial alarm, Mr. Fairthorn
winding up an inclined plank which lie embraced with both arms, and by
which he ultimately ascended to a timber joist in what should have been
an upper floor, only flooring there was none. Perched there, Fairthorn
glared down on Lionel through his spectacles. "Dangerous," he said
whisperingly; "but one gets used to everything! If you feel afraid,
don't venture!"

Lionel, animated by that doubt of his courage, sprang up the plank,
balancing himself schoolboy fashion, with outstretched arms, and gained
the side of his guide.

"Don't touch me!" exclaimed Mr. Fairthorn, shrinking, "or we shall both
be over. Now observe and imitate." Dropping himself, then, carefully
and gradually, till he dr