“There is the hot water, sir; that is the bell. I have the honour to be placed at your commands.” The door closed, and Lionel unlocked his knapsack; other trousers, other waistcoat had he,--those worn at the fair, and once white. Alas! they had not since then passed to the care of the laundress. Other shoes,--double-soled for walking. There was no help for it but to appear at dinner, attired as he had been before, in his light pedestrian jacket, morning waistcoat flowered with sprigs, and a fawn-coloured nether man. Could it signify much,--only two men? Could the grave Mr. Darrell regard such trifles?--Yes, if they intimated want of due respect. “Durum! sed fit levius Patientia Quicquid corrigere est nefas.” On descending the stairs, the same high-bred domestic was in waiting to show him into the library. Mr. Darrell was there already, in the simple but punctilious costume of a gentleman who retains in seclusion the habits customary in the world. At the first glance Lionel thought he saw a slight cloud of displeasure on his host’s brow. He went up to Mr. Darrell ingenuously, and apologized for the deficiencies of his itinerant wardrobe. “Say the truth,” said his host; “you thought you were coming to an old churl, with whom ceremony was misplaced.” “Indeed no!” exclaimed Lionel. “But--but I have so lately left school.” “Your mother might have thought for you.” “I did not stay to consult her, indeed, sir; I hope you are not offended.” “No, but let me not offend you if I take advantage of my years and our relationship to remark that a young man should be careful not to let himself down below the standard of his own rank. If a king could bear to hear that he was only a ceremonial, a private gentleman may remember that there is but a ceremonial between himself and--his hatter!” Lionel felt the colour mount his brow; but Darrell pressing the distasteful theme no further, and seemingly forgetting its purport, turned his remarks carelessly towards the weather. “It will be fair to-morrow: there is no mist on the hill yonder. Since you have a painter for a friend, perhaps you yourself are a draughtsman. There are some landscape effects here which Fairthorn shall point out to you.” “I fear, Mr. Darrell,” said Lionel, looking down, “that to-morrow I must leave you.” “So soon? Well, I suppose the place must be very dull.” “Not that--not that; but I have offended you, and I would not repeat the offence. I have not the ‘ceremonial’ necessary to mark me as a gentleman,--either here or at home.”