stockings of the same dye, which, by the waning light, took a sombrer
and sadder hue, "oh, sir, pray make no apology. I am only sorry the
hour is so late that I cannot offer to show you the interior of the
house: perhaps, if you are staying in the neighbourhood, you would
like to see it to-morrow. You were here, I take it, sir, in my old
lord's time?

"I was!--upon a visit to his second son: we had been boys together."

"What! Master Clinton?" cried the old man, with extreme, animation;
and then, suddenly changing his voice, added, in a subdued and
saddened tone, "Ah, poor young gentleman, I wonder where he is now?"

"Why, is he not in this country?" asked Clarence.

"Yes--no--that is, I can't exactly say where he is; I wish I could:
poor Master Clinton! I loved him as my own son."

"You surprise me," said Clarence. "Is there anything in the fate of
Clinton L'Estrange that calls forth your pity? If so, you would
gratify a much better feeling than curiosity if you would inform me of
it. The fact is that I came here to seek him; for I have been absent
from the country many years, and on my return my first inquiry was for
my old friend and schoolfellow. None knew anything of him in London,
and I imagined therefore that he might have settled down into a
country gentleman. I was fully prepared to find him marshalling the
fox-hounds or beating the preserves; and you may consequently imagine
my mortification on learning at my inn that he had not been residing
here for many years; further I know not!"