That was a great day to more than the dog—on which he was emancipated from kennel thraldom, and was brought to the castle, where he was destined to be the companion and friend of the future earl when he was at home, though by this decision a sacrifice was made, of what would probably have been Carlo’s laurels as a regular coursing dog. Carlo might course occasionally, stirred by his master’s presence and encouragement, but no study or drawing-room dog, whatever his pedigree, could go in with a hope of winning the great matches equal to that of the dog who was kept up to the mark, by being maintained solely for that end. It was an evidence of the degree to which social claims are permitted to prevail in every circle. “De Vaux wishes to have the dog constantly with him,” said De Vaux’s mother, as if the desire of the heir settled the question; “and Carlo is such a nice gentlemanly dog. I have been so frightened for De Vaux’s taking a fancy to a hideous turnspit, or a rough German boar-hound, or a fighting bull-terrier, with a beauty spot over one eye, or even to some wretched cur. Young men are so odd now-a-days,” she finished with a sigh of relief. Not a footman or a housemaid was not respectful to Carlo, well-nigh as to my lord and my lady—tolerant of the trouble he gave the servants, flattered if he took any notice of them. Like all aristocratic dogs, he was inclined to keep his distance from the domestics, even from his old friends of the kennel, so soon as he saw that they were not his masters—that his master, who was also his familiar friend, proved to be their master, and stopped short with being so. Carlo was disposed to keep up an almost unbroken reserve towards the worthy persons, in their own way, who used the back stairs. He would no more have thought of visiting the kitchen, or even the housekeeper’s room or the butler’s pantry, on terms of equality, than I daresay you and I, my reader, would dream of doing, if we were, like Carlo, not so much the servant as the privileged member of an earl’s family. But Carlo was such a gentlemanly dog, as my lady had said, that he was incapable of arrogance, far less insolence. His manner was, like that of Queen Charlotte when she curtseyed to her humblest maid-servant, or of King George when he took off his hat to the gentlemen of his band, always gracious and affable. My lord and my lady had a great partiality for Carlo. My lord would take him for a walk when the dog’s master was not at home. My lady would encourage him to sit with her in her morning-room, where she conducted her correspondence, and to glide after her in her conservatory and flower-garden, where she gathered flowers, and played at being a gardener in a big apron and gauntlet gloves, wielding shears for the destruction of dead leaves and twigs.