And whatever family pride might be acquired in this gallery was chastened in the other apartment exempted from the general desolation. This was the library, the especial domain of Polydore Riches, the chaplain of the castle. Riches held a fellowship at Cambridge, but had incurred, no matter how, the dislike of his superiors; being somewhat timid and retiring, he thereupon gave up residence, and accepted Mr. Trevethlan's offer of his chaplaincy and the curacy of the hamlet. And when that gentleman's affairs became inextricably involved, the worthy clergyman declined a release from his duties, and continued to reside at Trevethlan, maintaining himself on the proceeds of his fellowship. The people at the village said he might sometimes be seen in the dusk of evening, leaning on the tombstone in their churchyard which marked the resting-place of Rose Griffith, a relation of the steward. It was also said that he had positively refused to perform the marriage ceremony between his patron and Margaret Basset; and it was true. For once, Mr. Trevethlan respected a pride that was equal to his own, and contented himself with a sarcasm on the eccentricity of poverty. Polydore had now resided nearly thirty years at the castle, and was more than fifty in age. But time sat light upon him, and he looked much younger. From Mrs. Griffith he received as pupils his patron's children, and the library took the place of the picture gallery. Polydore was enthusiastic, and children love enthusiasm: there was a tinge of sadness in his demeanour, and childish pity is more akin to affection than that of older persons. It was not wonderful that Randolph and Helen were frequently glad to escape from the presence of the cold and stern man whom they called father, to the teaching of the tender and gentle being who ruled in the library. Nor was it more strange that with such an instructor they made rapid proficiency in whatever pursuit he directed. "Lonely," he exclaimed one day, when Randolph, then sixteen, inquired if he did not feel so in the solitude of the castle, "lonely with a library like this! Lonely in the society of those around me! Of Park, first beholding the Niger! Of Columbus, seeing the light from the poop of his ship! Of Watt, contemplating one of our Cornish engines! Of Newton, observing the fall of the apple! Of Luther, taking his stand at the Diet of Worms! Of Shakspeare, giving 'to airy nothing A local habitation and a name!'