to being an occasional host, was an indefatigable guest.
The beginning of May saw him enter London's season with the very best intentions, determined not to weary in well-doing till July was ended. He plunged manfully into the social mäelstrom, no one more eager to please, or, what is especially valued in London society, no one so easily pleased. Nevertheless, just as the London season was at its height, Stranleigh began to see visions.
Sometimes these dreams would picture to him a rock-environed, sea-coast bay, with a little fishing village on its margin; but more often the mirage represented a secluded spot in the forest of Stranleigh Park, where, in a green glade, crystal waters came tumbling over rocks, and, running rapidly and merrily through woods and meadows, formed one of the choicest trout streams that a fisherman could wish to cast a line upon.
Young Blake, the secretary, always made allowance for these visions, and prepared for them. Towards the middle of each June Blake's communications with the world of fashion changed purport, from "Lord Stranleigh is delighted to accept" to "The Earl of Stranleigh regrets he is
