Castleton's superb diamond stomacher, just reset by Storr & Mortimer;
Westmacott's bust of Lady Castleton; Landseer's picture of Lady Castleton
and her children in the costume of the olden time. Not a month in that
long file of the "Morning Post" but what Lady Castleton shone forth from
the rest of womankind,--

"Velut inter ignes Luna minores."

The blood mounted to my cheek. Was it to this splendid constellation in
the patrician heaven that my obscure, portionless youth had dared to lift
its presumptuous eyes? But what is this? "Indian Intelligence: Skilful
retreat of the Sepoys under Captain de Caxton"! A captain already! What
is the date of the newspaper!--three months ago. The leading article
quotes the name with high praise. Is there no leaven of envy amidst the
joy at my heart? How obscure has been my career,--how laurelless my poor
battle with adverse fortune! Fie, Pisistratus! I am ashamed of thee.
Has this accursed Old World, with its feverish rivalries, diseased thee
already? Get thee home, quick, to the arms of thy mother, the embrace of
thy father; hear Roland's low blessing that thou hast helped to minister
to the very fame of that son. If thou wilt have ambition, take it,--not
soiled and foul with the mire of London. Let it spring fresh and hardy
in the calm air of wisdom, and fed, as with dews, by the loving charities
of Home.




CHAPTER III.