y, perpendicular in attitude, rather showily dressed, and of
gracious, ingenious and slightly elaborate manners. It was at Mrs.
Austin's in Bayswater; he was just taking leave as I entered, so our
interview lasted only a moment: but the figure of the man, as Sterling's
father, had already an interest for me, and I remember the time well.
Captain Edward Sterling, as we formerly called him, had now quite dropt
the military title, nobody even of his friends now remembering it; and
was known, according to his wish, in political and other circles, as Mr.
Sterling, a private gentleman of some figure. Over whom hung, moreover,
a kind of mysterious nimbus as the principal or one of the principal
writers in the _Times_, which gave an interesting chiaroscuro to his
character in society. A potent, profitable, but somewhat questionable
position; of which, though he affected, and sometimes with anger,
altogether to disown it, and rigorously insisted on the rights of
anonymity, he was not unwilling to take the honors too: the private
pecuniary advantages were very undeniable; and his reception in the
Clubs, and occasionally in higher quarters, was a good deal modelled on
the universal belief in it.

John Sterling at Herstmonceux that afternoon, and his Father here in
London, would have offered strange contrasts to an eye that had
seen them both. Contrasts, and yet concordances. They were two very
different-looking men, and were following two very different modes of
activity that afternoon. And yet with a strange family likeness, too,
both in the men and their activities; the central impulse in each, the
faculties applied to fulfil said impulse, not at all dissimilar,--as
grew visible to me on farther knowledge.

CHAPTER II. NOT CURATE.

Thus it went on for some months at Herstmonceux; but thus it could
not last. We said there were already misgivings as to health, &c. in
September: [12] that was but the fourth month, for it had begun only in
June. The like clouds of misgiving, flights of dark vapor, chequering
more and more the bright sky of this promised land, rose heavier and
rifer month after month; till in February following, that is in the
eighth month from starting, the sky had grown quite overshaded; and poor
Sterling had to think practically of departure from his promised land
again, finding that the goal of his pilgrimage was _not_ there. Not
there, wherever it may be! March again, therefore; the abiding city,
and po