“My granddaughter's place, sir,” said the old Judge, as he caught his eye. “It is reserved for her return. May it be soon!” How gentle the old man's voice sounded as he said this, and how kindly his eyes beamed! Trafford thought there was something actually attractive in his features, and wondered he had not remarked it before. Perhaps on that day when the old Judge well knew how agreeable he was, what stores of wit and pleasantry he was pouring forth, his convictions assured him that his guest was charmed. It was a very pardonable delusion,--he talked with great brilliancy and vigor. He possessed the gift--which would really seem to be the especial gift of Irishmen of that day--to be a perfect relater. To a story he imparted that slight dash of dramatic situation and dialogue that made it lifelike, and yet never retarded the interest nor prolonged the catastrophe. Acute as was his wit, his taste was fully as conspicuous, never betraying him for an instant, so long as his personal vanity could be kept out of view. Trafford's eager and animated attention showed with what pleasure he listened; and the Chief, like all men who love to talk and know they talk well, talked all the better for the success vouchsafed to him. He even arrived at that stage of triumph in which he felt that his guest was no common man, and wondered if England really turned out many young fellows of this stamp,--so well read, so just, so sensible, so keenly alive to nice distinction, and so unerring in matters of taste. “You were schooled at Rugby, sir, you told me; and Rugby has reason to be proud if she can turn out such young men. I am only sorry Oxford should not have put the fine edge on so keen an intellect.” Trafford blushed at a compliment he felt to be so unmerited, but the old man saw nothing of his confusion,--he was once again amongst the great scenes and actors of his early memories. “I hope you will spare me another day before you leave Ireland. Do you think you could give me Saturday?” said the Chief, as his guest arose to take leave. “I am afraid not, my Lord; we shall be on the march by that day.” “Old men have no claim to use the future tense, or I should ask you to come and see me when you come back again.” “Indeed will I. I cannot thank you enough for having asked me.” “Why are there not more young men of that stamp?” said the old Judge, as he looked after him as he went. “Why are they not more generally cultivated and endowed as he is? It is long since I have found one more congenial to me in every way. I must tell Beattie I like his friend. I regret not to see more of him.” It was in this strain Sir William ruminated and reflected; pretty much like many of us, who never think our critics so just or so appreciative as when they applaud ourselves. CHAPTER XLII. NECESSITIES OP STATE