Breathlessly he stood at the window of the carriage, in his eagerness hailing each successive familiar feature in the view. It was the close of a summer day, and his heart felt full as when he had knelt at his mother's knee to lisp the prayers she taught him. There seemed to be something in the white clouds flecking the blue sky; in the sweet fresh breath of the land breeze, laden with the perfume of the orchards, the green leaves, and the flowers; in the joyous song of the birds; in the pretty farms, in field after field as he saw them, like great green seas of grass, studded with golden buttercups and snow-white daisies; in the groups of children, in the herds of cattle going to the pools to drink; in the voice of the lark soaring aloft; in the familiar peal of the old church bell, like the voice of an early friend: that all spoke to his brimming heart of England and of home! At last the train went clanking into the station, where porters and passengers were hurrying to and fro, and in their hot haste jostling each other. Could this be Finglecombe? Changes were being effected, and in progress, when he left; but he was by no means prepared for all he saw now. There was no one to receive him on the platform, about which he looked as one in a dream. He arrived, as he had departed, unseen by the eye of a kinsman; and now, for the first time, something of the old chill he had felt so often years ago, fell upon his heart. A flaring placard, with views of Finglecombe, its terraces, villas, sea-wall, and various projected improvements then caught his eye. It was described as one of the most rising places on the western coast, in a beautiful district, commanding a view of the Bristol Channel; for yachtsmen and canoeists possessing an unrivalled field, and attractive walks and drives for the excursionist or pedestrian; a hotel, telegraph, and railway station, "advantages showing that, as a centre or head-quarters for the tourist, Finglecombe was unrivalled indeed; combining, as it did, cheapness of transit, and every means for amusement, with great natural beauty of situation." Had his father found the lamp of Aladdin to produce all this? thought Derval, as memory went back to the solitary little cottage in the Combe, where a slice of brown bread, a pat of golden butter, and a foaming jug of beer, were once deemed a luxurious supper. The Hampton family had a carriage now; but Derval, though expected, was left to make his way home, how he chose or how he could. A porter put his portmanteaus on a truck, and, when desired to follow him to Mr. Hampton's house, received the order with profound respect. He was a stranger, and knew not Derval, whose own mother might not have recognised him now--tall, developed in every muscle, brown and manly in visage, with a dark, if slight, moustache; but amid the "improvements" at the Combe he became so bewildered, that he was fain to "drop astern" and let the porter pilot him.