persistently it smelt of damp plaster; and that
the more brightly it was lighted, the more
overgrown and lonesome it looked. I can
recal to mind that the company assembled
numbered about fifty; the room being big
enough to hold three hundred. I have a
vision still before me, of twenty out of these
fifty guests, solemnly executing intricate figure-
dances, under the superintendence of an
infirm local dancing-master—a mere speck of
fidgetty human wretchedness twisting about
in the middle of an empty floor. I see, faintly,
down the dim vista of the Past, an agreeable
figure, like myself, with a cocked-hat under
its arm, black tights on its lightly-tripping
legs, a rosette in its button-hole, and an
engaging smile on its face, walking from end
to end of the room, in the character of
Master of the Ceremonies. These visions and
events I can recal vaguely; and with them
my remembrances of the ball come to a
close. It was a complete failure, and that
would, of itself, have been enough to sicken
me of remaining at the Duskydale Institution,
even if I had not had any reasons of the
tender sort for wishing to extend my travels
in rural England to the neighbourhood of
Barkingham. The difficulty was how to find
a decent pretext for getting away.
Fortunately, the managing committee relieved
me of any perplexity on this head, by passing
a resolution, one day, which called upon the
president to remonstrate with me on my
want of proper interest in the affairs of the
Institution. I replied to the remonstrance
that the affairs of the Institution were so
hopelessly dull that it was equally absurd
and unjust to expect any human being to
take the smallest interest in them. At this
there arose an indignant cry of "Resign!"
from the whole committee; to which I
answered politely, that I should be
delighted to oblige the gentlemen, and to go
forthwith, on the condition of receiving a
quarter's salary in the way of previous
compensation. After a sordid opposition from an
economical minority, my condition of departure
was accepted. I wrote a letter of resignation,
received in exchange twelve pounds
ten shillings, and took my place, that same
day, on the box-seat of the Barkingham
mail. Rather changeable this life of mine,
was it not? Before I was twenty-five years
of age, I had tried doctoring, caricaturing,
portrait-painting, old picture-making, and
Institution-managing; and, now, with the
help of Laura Knapton, I was about to
try how a little marrying would suit me.
Surely, Shakespeare must have had me
prophetically in his eye, when he wrote that
about "one man in his time playing many
parts." What a character I should have made
for him, if he had only been alive now!

I found out from the coachman, among
other matters, that there was a famous fishing
stream near Barkingham; and the first
thing I did, on arriving at the town, was to
buy a rod and line. It struck me that my
safest way of introducing myself would be to
tell Doctor Knapton that I had come to the
neighbourhood for a little fishing, and so to
prevent him from fancying that I was
suspiciously prompt in availing myself of his
offered hospitality. I put up, of course, at
the inn—stuck a large parchment book of
flies half in and half out of the pocket of my
shooting-jacket—and set off at once to the
doctor's. The waiter of whom I asked my
way stared distrustfully while he directed
me. The people at the inn had evidently
heard of my new friend, and were not favourably
disposed towards the cause of scientific
investigation.

The house stood about a mile out of the
town, in a dip of ground near the famous
fishing-stream. A large, lonely, old-fashioned
red-brick building, surrounded by high walls,
with a garden and plantation behind it. As
I rang at the gate-bell, I looked up at the
house. Sure enough, all the top windows in
front were closed with shutters and barred.
I was let in by a man in livery; who,
however, in manners and appearance, looked
much more like a workman in disguise than
a footman. He had a very suspicious eye,
and he fixed it on me unpleasantly when I
handed him my card.

I was shown into a morning-room exactly
like other morning-rooms in country-houses.
After a long delay the doctor came in, with
scientific butchers' sleeves on his arms, and
an apron tied round his portly waist. He
apologised for coming down in his working-dress,
and said everything that was civil and proper
about the pleasure of unexpectedly seeing me
again so soon. There was something rather
preoccupied, I thought, in those brightly
resolute eyes of his; but I naturally
attributed that to the engrossing influence of his
scientific inquiries. He was evidently not at
all taken in by my story about coming to
Barkingham to fish; but he saw, as well as I
did, that it would do to keep up appearances,
and contrived to look highly interested
immediately in my parchment book. I asked
after his daughter. He said she was in the
garden, and proposed that we should go and
find her. We did find her, with a pair of
scissors in her hand, outblooming the flowers
that she was trimming. She looked really
glad to see me—her brown eyes beamed
clear and kindly—she gave my hand another
inestimable shake—the summer breezes
waved her black curls gently upward from
her waist—she had on a straw hat and a
brown holland gardening dress. I eyed it
with all the practical interest of a linen-
draper. O Brown Holland, you are but a
coarse and cheap fabric, yet how soft and
priceless you look when clothing the figure of
Laura Knapton!

I lunched with them. The doctor recurred
to the subject of my angling intentions, and
asked his daughter if she had heard what