"The Signora Graziana must do nothing to
offend the manager," said Lord Castletowers,
who was familiar with every dialect of the Italian.

"Certainly not," exclaimed Saxon. " Not for
the world."

Then, turning to Burgoyne, he whispered,
"What is it all about? Why should he be
offended because she sang for us?"

"He would have me pay him one hundred
pounds," said the prima donna, whose ears were
quick.

"A hundred pounds fine, you know," explained
Burgoyne. " 'Tis in his bond, and the man's a
very Shylock with his ducats."

Saxon laughed aloud.

"Is that all?" said he. "Oh, never mind, bella
donna—I'll pay him his hundred pounds, and
welcome."

And so a piano was brought in from another
room, and the Graziana sang to them divinely,
not one song but a dozen.

"Perhaps our friend the impressario may not
hear of it, after all," said Mr. Greatorex, when
the music was over, and they were preparing to
return to town.

"Let us all take a solemn oath of secresy,"
suggested Sir Charles Burgoyne.

But Saxon would not hear of it.

"No, no," said he. " The fine has been fairly
forfeited, and shall be fairly paid. Let no man's
soul be burthened with a secret on my account. I
will send Shylock his cheque to-morrow morning.
Ladies, the carriages are at the door."

"I had heard that our Amphitryon did not
know the value of money," said Mr. Greatorex,
as they went down stairs, " and now I believe it.
Why, this little affair, my lord, must have been
set to the tune of at least five hundred pounds!"

"Well, I suppose it has," replied Castletowers,
"including the bracelet."

"A modern Timon—eh?"

"Nay, I hope not. A modern Mecænas, if
you like. It is a name of better augury."

"I fear he dispenses his gold more after the
fashion of Timon than of Mecænas," replied the
banker, dryly.

"He is a splendid fellow," said the Earl, with
enthusiasm; " and his lavish generosity is by no
means the noblest part of his character."

"But he behaved like a fool about that hundred
pounds. Of course, we should all have
kept the secret, and . . . ."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Greatorex," interrupted
the Earl, stiffly. '' In my opinion, Mr.
Trefalden simply behaved like a man of honour."

CHAPTER XIX. MR. TREFALDEN ON THE DOMESTIC
MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF LAWYERS.

"So, my young cousin, you have not yet lost
all your primitive virtues," said Mr. Trefalden,
as Saxon, heralded by Mr. Keckwitch, made his
appearance on the threshold of the lawyer's
private room at eight o'clock precisely on
Monday evening.

"I hope I have parted from none that I
ever possessed," replied Saxon; " but to what
particular virtue do you allude?"

"To your punctuality, young man. You are
as true to time as on that memorable morning
when we breakfasted together at Reichenau, and
you tasted Lafitte for the first time. You have
become tolerably familiar with the flavour since
then."

"Indeed I have," replied Saxon, with a smile
and a sigh.

"And with a good many other flavours as
well, I imagine. Why, let me see, that was
on the seventh of March, and here is the end of
the third week in April—scarcely eight weeks
ago, Saxon!"

"It seems like eight centuries."

"I dare say it does. You have crowded a
vast number of impressions into a very short
space of time. But then you are rich in the
happy adaptability of youth, and can bear the
shock of revolution."

"I try to bear it as well as I can," replied
Saxon, laughingly. " It isn't very difficult."

"No—the lessons of pleasure and power are
soon learnt; and, by the way, the art of dress
also. You are quite a swell, Saxon."

The young fellow's face crimsoned. He could
not get over that awkward habit of blushing.

"I hope not," he said. " I am what fate and
my tailor have made me. Castletowers took me
to his own man, and he has done as he liked
with me."

"So that, to paraphrase the kingly state, your
virtues are your own, and your short-comings are
your tailor's? Nay, don't look uncomfortable.
You are well dressed; but not too well dressed—
which, to my thinking, is precisely as a gentleman
should be."

"I don't wish to be a ' swell,'" said Saxon.

"Nor are you one. Now tell me something
about yourself. How do you like this new life?"

"It bewilders me," said Saxon. " It dazzles
me. It takes my breath away. I feel as if
London were a huge circus, all dust, and roar,
and glitter, and I being carried round it, in a
great chariot race. It frightens me sometimes—
and yet I enjoy it. There is so much to enjoy!"

"But you thought it a ' dreary ' place at first,"
said Mr. Trefalden, with his quiet smile.

"Because I was a stranger, and knew no one
—because the very roar and flow of life along the
streets only made my solitude the heavier. But
that's all changed now, thanks to you."

"Thanks to me, Saxon?"

"Of course. Don't I owe that dear fellow
Castletowers's acquaintance to you? And if I
hadn't known him, how should I have got into
the Erectheum? How should I have known
Burgoyne, and Greatorex, and Brandon, and
Fitz-Hugh, and Dalton, and all the other fellows?
And they are so kind to me— it's perfectly
incredible how kind they are, and what trouble
they take to oblige and please me!"

"Indeed?" said the lawyer, dryly.

"Yes, that they do; and I should be worse