"Good friend, good friend! Well said, sir. You are going amongst good
friends. I was at college with your father; I loved him well. I knew a
little of your uncle too. My name is Trevanion."

Blind young fool that I was! The moment my guide told his name, I was
struck with amazement at my unaccountable mistake. The small,
insignificant figure took instant dignity; the homely dress, of rough
dark broadcloth, was the natural and becoming dishabille of a country
gentleman in his own demesnes. Even the ugly cur became a Scotch
terrier of the rarest breed.

My guide smiled good-naturedly at my stupor; and patting me on the
shoulder, said,--

"It is the gardener you must apologize to, not me. He is a very
handsome fellow, six feet high."

I had not found my tongue before we had ascended a broad flight of
stairs under the portico, passed a spacious hall adorned with statues
and fragrant with large orange-trees, and, entering a small room hung
with pictures, in which were arranged all the appliances for breakfast,
my companion said to a lady, who rose from behind the tea-urn: "My dear
Ellinor, I introduce to you the son of our old friend Augustine Caxton.
Make him stay with us as long as he can. Young gentleman, in Lady
Ellinor Trevanion think that you see one whom you ought to know well;
family friendships should descend."

My host said these last words in an imposing tone, and then pounced on a
letter-bag on the table, drew forth an immense heap of letters and