"Helen says you are self-taught; for the rest she refers me to you--thinking, perhaps, that I should esteem you less--rather than yet more highly--if she said you were, as I presume to conjecture, of humble birth." "My birth," said Leonard, slowly, "is very--very--humble." "The name of Fairfield is not unknown to me. There was one of that name who married into a family in Lansmere--married an Avenel--" continued Harley--and his voice quivered. "You change countenance. Oh, could your mother's name have been Avenel?" "Yes," said Leonard, between his set teeth. Harley laid his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Then indeed I have a claim on you--then, indeed, we are friends. I have a right to serve any of that family." Leonard looked at him in surprise--"For," continued Harley, recovering himself, "they always served my family; and my recollections of Lansmere, though boyish, are indelible." He spurred on his horse as the words closed--and again there was a long pause; but from that time Harley always spoke to Leonard in a soft voice, and often gazed on him with earnest and kindly eyes. They reached a house in a central, though not fashionable street. A man-servant of a singularly grave and awful aspect opened the door; a man who had lived all his life with authors. Poor devil, he was indeed prematurely old! The care on his lip and the pomp on his brow--no mortal's pen can describe! "Is Mr. Norreys at home?" asked Harley. "He is at home--to his friends, my lord," answered the man, majestically; and he stalked across the hall with the step of a Dangeau ushering some Montmorenci to the presence of _Louis le Grand_. "Stay--show this gentleman into another room. I will go first into the library; wait for me, Leonard." The man nodded, and ushered Leonard into the dining-room. Then pausing before the door of the library, and listening an instant, as if fearful to disturb some mood of inspiration, opened it very softly. To his ineffable disgust, Harley pushed before, and entered abruptly. It was a large room, lined with books from the floor to the ceiling. Books were on all the tables--books were on all the chairs. Harley seated himself on a folio of Raleigh's History of the World, and cried-- "I have brought you a treasure!" "What is it?" said Norreys, good-humoredly, looking up from his desk. "A mind!" "A mind!" echoed Norreys, vaguely. "Your own?" "Pooh--I have none--I have only a heart and a fancy. Listen. You remember the boy we saw reading at the book-stall. I have caught him for you, and you shall train him into a man. I have the warmest interest in his future--for I knew some of his family--and one of that family was very dear to me. As for money, he has not a shilling, and not a shilling would he accept gratis from you or me either. But he comes with bold heart to work--and work you must find him." Harley then rapidly told his friend of the two offers he had made to Leonard--and Leonard's choice.