the few persons Trevanion himself condescended to consult. I had almost
a holiday. I went to call on Sir Sedley Beaudesert. I had always
longed to sound him on one subject, and had never dared. This time I
resolved to pluck up courage.

"Ah, my young friend!" said he, rising from the contemplation of a
villanous picture by a young artist, which he had just benevolently
purchased, "I was thinking of you this morning.--Wait a moment, Summers
[this to the valet]. Be so good as to take this picture; let it be
packed up and go down into the country. It is a sort of picture," he
added, turning to me, "that requires a large house. I have an old
gallery with little casements that let in no light. It is astonishing
how convenient I have found it!" As soon as the picture was gone, Sir
Sedley drew a long breath, as if relieved, and resumed more gayly,--

"Yes, I was thinking of you; and if you will forgive any interference in
your affairs,--from your father's old friend,--I should be greatly
honored by your permission to ask Trevanion what he supposes is to be
the ultimate benefit of the horrible labor he inflicts upon you."

"But, my dear Sir Sedley, I like the labors; I am perfectly contented."

"Not to remain always secretary to one who, if there were no business to
be done among men, would set about teaching the ants to build hills upon
better architectural principles! My dear sir, Trevanion is an awful
man, a stupendous man, one catches fatigue if one is in the same room
with him three minutes! At your age,--an age that ought to be so
happy,"--continued Sir Sedley, with a compassion perfectly angelically
"it is sad to see so little enjoyment!"