Crusoe-like experiments in the art of living, and droll little mishaps, and a perpetual sweet variety--the prospect changes. This is why there had come, in the starlight, a sort of reflection of a smile upon Jack’s mouth. It was, on the whole, so very considerate and sensible of Mrs. Preston to have that headache and stay up stairs. And Pamela, altogether apart from the fact that she was Pamela, was such charming company--so fresh, so quick, so ready to take up any thing that looked like fun, so full of pleasant changes, catching the light upon her at so many points. This bright, rippling, sparkling, limpid stream was to go singing through all his life. He was thinking of this when he suddenly saw the shadow under the chestnuts, and found that his father had come out to meet him. It was rather a startling interruption to so pleasant a dream. Jack was very much taken aback, but he did not lose his self-possession; he made a brave attempt to stave off all discussion, and make the encounter appear the most natural thing in the world, as was the instinct of a man up to the requirements of his century. “It’s a lovely night,” said Jack; “I don’t wonder you came out. I’ve been myself--for a walk. It does a fellow more good than sitting shut up in these stuffy rooms all night.” Now the fact was Jack had been shut up in a very stuffy room, a room smaller than the smallest chamber into which he had ever entered at Brownlows; but there are matters, it is well known, in which young men do not feel themselves bound by the strict limits of fact. “I was not thinking about the night,” said Mr. Brownlow; “there are times when a man is glad to move about to keep troublesome things out of his mind; but luckily you don’t know much about that.” “I know as much about it as most people, I suppose, sir,” said Jack, with a little natural indignation; “but I hope there is nothing particular to put you out--that Wardell case--” “I was not thinking of the Wardell case either,” said Mr. Brownlow, with an impatient momentary smile. “I fear my clients’ miseries don’t impress me so much as they ought to do. I was thinking of things nearer home--” Upon which there was a moment’s pause. If Jack had followed his first impulse, he would have asked, with a little defiance, if it was any thing in his conduct to which his father particularly objected. But he was prudent, and refrained; and they took a few steps on together in silence toward the house, which shone in front of them with all its friendly lights. “No,” said Mr. Brownlow, in that reflective way that men think it competent and proper to use when their interlocutor is young, and can not by any means deny the fact. “You don’t know much about it; the hardest thing that ever came in your way was to persuade yourself to give up a personal indulgence: and even that you have not always done. You don’t understand what _care_ means. How should you? Youth is never really occupied with any thing but itself.”