"So, then," said Lieberg, "Miss Barham has left some things behind her?"
"Oh, yes, a great many," replied the woman, who seemed not to be in the most respondent humour in the world; "but really, sir, I cannot stay answering questions all day. I have told you everything I know about the young lady, and that is little enough."
"It is so," replied Lieberg; and getting into his vehicle, without farther comment, he drove away.
As he was still a full hour and a half before his time, he sought for occupation, and to all appearance gave not a second thought to Helen Barham's place of residence. It was not so, however, in reality; and as he drove away, he repeated twice--"This is Ernstein's doing!" But he had now regained all that self-possession which Helen's beauty had for a time disturbed; and when--after attending a sale of pictures and bronzes, at Phillipps's Rooms, for about an hour--he proceeded to visit Morley Ernstein, his look was as calm and cheerful, his manner as unembarrassed and graceful, as ever. Not one word passed his lips in regard to his visit of that morning to the house of Helen Barham, though there was some meaning in the smile with which he shook hands with Morley on their meeting. To the call he had made on the preceding day, however, he referred at once, saying--"Well, Morley, I have seen this fair object of your benevolence, and must confess that her beauty, her grace, and her talent too, far exceed what I had expected. I cannot help thinking you a great fool, begging your pardon for so saying; but I suppose we shall never think alike upon these matters, and I shall give up attempting to convert you to my doctrines, for every man must seek happiness in his own way; and I do not see why a man's prejudices should not be considered as a part of his property which it is felony to rob him of, as well as anything else."
"Why, Lieberg," replied Morley, "prejudices, I should think, would be a sort of property of which, like paving-stones in a man's pocket, it would be kind to free him as soon as possible. But I rather think the dispute between you and me would be, as to which of my views are prejudices--which are principles. I do not mean to claim any outrageous morality, but in what I am doing now, I am quite sure I am right."
"I hope you are equally sure that you will be successful," replied Lieberg; "for my part, I think I shall soon leave the matter in your hands altogether, for I have some intention, ere the earth, and all it bears about with it, be a month older, of setting out for the Continent, and taking, what the people who travel and write books, call 'an autumn tour,' somewhere."
"Why, I thought," said Morley, "that you were going down to the house of Lord Medway for the season?"
"He invited me," answered Lieberg; "but I am not in a humour this year, either for stalking after partridges through a turnip-field, or for the beastly butchery of a battue. The last time I was at one, I felt myself like the dog that the man shewed about London some time ago--'Billy,' you know, that killed a hundred rats in a minute--and I determined never to go to such barn-door slaughter again. But here comes this good youth, I suppose," he added, seeing the door open; "do not tell him at first. We may see some of the workings of the passions, which is better sport than a battue."
Morley thought that it was as cruel sport, too; but the waiter announcing that a gentleman desired to speak with him, he directed him to be shewn in, and the moment after William Barham, with his pale, dissolute countenance, and his long light hair straggling as usual over his face, entered the room, but stopped suddenly short, on beholding Lieberg.
"Good morning, Mr. Barham," said Morley; "this gentleman is a friend of mine, who has promised me to do what he can to assist you. Take a seat, and let us talk over this affair."