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370 " One word, one question. You have made ease a philosophy and a system; no man ever did so with more felicitous grace; nor, in following pleasure, have you parted company with conscience and shame, A fine gentleman ever, in honor as in elegance. Well, are you satisfied with your choice of life? Are you happy?"

"Happy—who is? Satisfied—perhaps!"

"Is there any one you envy—whose choice, other than your own, you would prefer?"

"Certainly."

"Who?"

"You."

"I!" said Darrell, opening his eyes with unaffected amaze. "I! envy me! prefer my choice!"

Colonel Morley (peevishly). "Without doubt. You have had gratified ambition—a great career. Envy you! who would not? Your own objects in life fulfilled; you coveted distinction —you won it; fortune—your wealth is immense; the restoration of your name and lineage from obscurity and humiliation— are not name and lineage again written in the Libro d'oro? What king would not hail you as his councillor? what senate not open its ranks to admit you as a chief? what house, though the haughtiest in the land, would not accept your alliance? And withal, you stand before me stalwart and unbowed, young blood still in your veins. Ungrateful man! who would not change lots with Guy Darrell. "Fame, fortune, health, and, not to flatter you, a form and presence that would be remarked, though you stood in that black frock by the side of a monarch in his coronation robes."

. "You have turned my questions against myself with a kindliness of intention that makes me forgive your belief in my vanity. Pass on—or rather pass back; you say you have tried all in life that distracts or sweetens. Not so; lone bachelor, you have not tried wedlock. Has not that been your mistake?"

. "Answer for yourself. You have tried it." The words were scarce out of his mouth ere he repented the retort. For Darrell started as if stung to the quick; and his brow, before serene, his lip, before playful, grew, the one darkly troubled, the other tightly compressed. "Pardon me," faltered out the friend.

. "Oh yes; I brought it on myself. What stuff we have been talking! Tell me the news—not political—any other. Rut first, jour report of young Haughton. Cordial