"Well, you shall give me the address and a letter of introduction, and so much for that matter. But to return to politics;" and here Lord Vargrave ran eloquently on, till Mr. Winsley thought him the only man in the world who could save the country from that utter annihilation, the possibility of which he had never even suspected before.
It may be as well to add, that, on wishing Lord Vargrave good-night, Mr. Winsley whispered in his ear, "Your lordship's friend, Lord Staunch, need be under no apprehension,—we are all right!"
CHAPTER III.
THIS is the house, sir.—Love's Pilgrimage, Act iv, sc. 2.
Redeunt Saturnia regna.*—VIRGIL.
* "A former state of things returns."
THE next morning, Lumley and his slender companion were rolling rapidly over the same road on which, sixteen years ago, way-worn and weary, Alice Darvil had first met with Mrs. Leslie; they were talking about a new opera-dancer as they whirled by the very spot.
It was about five o'clock in the afternoon, the next day, when the carriage stopped at a cast-iron gate, on which was inscribed this epigraph, "Hobbs' lodge—Ring the Bell."
"A snug place enough," said Lord Vargrave, as they were waiting the arrival of the footman to unbar the gate.
"Yes," said Mr. Howard. "If a retired Cit could be transformed into a house, such is the house he would be."
Poor Dale Cottage,—the home of Poetry and Passion! But change visits the Commonplace as well as the Romantic. Since Alice had pressed to that cold grating her wistful eyes, time had wrought his allotted revolutions; the old had died, the young grown up. Of the children playing on the lawn, death had claimed some, and marriage others,—and the holiday of youth was gone for all.