distant relations and his own domains in Parnassus. The wretch was a poet! So they married. They spent their honey-moon genteelly, I dare say. His relations cut him. Parnassus paid no rents. He went abroad. Such heart-rending letters from her! They were destitute. How I worked! how I raged! But how could I maintain her and her husband too, mere child that I was? No matter. They are dead now, both; all dead for whose sake I first ground colors and saved half-pence. And Frank Vance is a stingy, selfish bachelor. Never revive this dull subject again, or I shall borrow a crown from you, and cut dead. Waiter, ho!—the bill. I'll just go round to the stables, and see the horse put to."
As the friends re-entered London, Vance said, "Put me down anywhere in Piccadilly; I will walk home. You, I suppose, of course, are staying with your mother in Gloucester Place?"
"No," said Lionel, rather embarrassed; "Colonel Morley, who acts for me as if he were my guardian, took a lodging for me in Chesterfield Street, Mayfair. My hours, I fear, would ill suit my dear mother. Only in town two days; and, thanks to Morley, my table is already covered with invitations."
"Yet you gave me one day, generous friend!"
"You the second day—my mother the first. But there are three balls before me to-night. Come home with me, and smoke your cigar while I dress."
"No; but I will at least light my cigar in your hall—prodigal!"
Lionel now stopped at his lodging. The groom, who served him also as valet, was in waiting at the door. "A note for you, Sir, from Colonel Morley—just come." Lionel hastily opened it, and read:
"My dear Haughton,—Mr. Darrell has suddenly arrived in London. Keep yourself free all to-morrow, when, no doubt, he will see you. I am hurrying off to him.
CHAPTER IV.
Once more Guy Darrell.
Guy Darrell was alone. A lofty room in a large house, on the first floor. His own house in Carlton Gardens, which he had occupied during his brief and brilliant parliamentary career,
