NEX

CHAPTER XII.

PHOTOGRAPHY.

TEXT day we were to make our respective expeditions: Dagentree to lunch at Wendover, and I to dine, and meet the redoubtable widow, at the Dashwoods'.

In the morning I was much amused with my friend's struggle between shyness and philosophy— the grandeur of his air of indifference, and the sneaking complacency at the prospect. I tried a little gentle banter on the charms of the fair Sophia, but found that the attempt inspired an amount of solemn dignity which warned me off the ground. So I turned to my own prospects, and began to speculate on whom the Dashwoods might have to meet me.

"I explained to you the resources of the country yesterday," said my host. "A stray man from town, like yourself, a pursebound sporting man, or a wandering judge of assize, will be the garnish: but the substantial part of the feast will be provided

from the materials we surveyed from Praslington Common."

"If they furnish anything as pleasant as the Wendover croquet party," said I, "I shall be fortunate. To a man who only dines in the Temple, and surveys no one but his brethren from morning to night, you cannot imagine what attraction there is in meeting, not lawyers, but the rest of mankind."

"And then, the mysterious widow. Are you sure she did not come from the Salt Lake?"

"You at least know nothing of her. Remember how nearly I brought the showman to grief yesterday. You must learn that part better before you play it again."

"I shall take an hour or two with the rod before I ride over. There must be mighty trout up. So good digestion to you, and good temper with it, which, as far as I see, is much required."

With these gruff words, but with his wonted open smile, he left me. I had resolved on devoting the day to the great work in which I was engaged, illustrative of the interesting and exciting topics contained in the History, Theory, and Practice of the Law of Real Property.

My labours made progress, as they generally do in such circumstances. I read Lord St Leonards, and wrote the thoughts of Pemberton thereon for

upwards of an hour, disturbed only by the hum of the bees around the window, and the song of the birds outside. After that, my attention and industry began to flag, and my thoughts to wander. I began to scrawl, "With you, Mr Pemberton. Mr Pemberton, with papers, 50 guas, Pemberton, Q.C., Sir Eustace Pemberton, Rt. Hon. Lord Pemberton,” and a variety of other day-dreams, on the blottingpaper. I then, in deep meditation, sketched a variety of well-known legal heads-among which, indiscriminately interspersed, appeared sundry profiles not unlike Sophia Wendover. I was roused from this interesting reverie by the respectable head of Briggs, informing me that his master had started, and inquiring when I should like to have lunch. I flung away my blotting-paper in convicted shame; but too much perturbed to settle down to my work, I began to make a survey of the library. Well it repaid me. The editions were scarce, the condition perfect, the bindings ecstatic. There was the true Elzevir Virgil, with the red letters, and the miscounted page, and with a margin of wonderful width. There was the large paper Homer of the Foulis. the Baskerville classics, unstained, in sumptuous morocco. There was the Chiromancy of Albertus Magnus, and Michael Scott, and the first edition of Drunken Barnaby, and a host of bibliographical

There were all

marvels besides. At last I came on a priceless Rabelais, and sat down on the top round of the library ladder to read him, Lord St Leonards and contingent remainders being utterly banished from memory.

Happening to cast up my eyes, or rather from the elevation at which I sat, to cast them down, I perceived a figure standing among the flower-beds beneath, and looking with an air, half-abashed and half-impudent, at the house. I descended from my altitude, and on going to the window, thought I recognised the younger of the two travellers I had met in the train the day before. While I was ruminating on what his motive or errand could be, the mystery was solved by his suddenly producing a photographic camera, and proceeding with the usual mysterious manipulation of his craft.

A wandering photographer is so common an apparition in these days, that the presence of one on the terrace would of itself have created no surprise. But taken in connection with the conversation I had overheard, the appearance of the stranger in this capacity struck me as singular and incongruous. began to wonder whether his rays of light, and positive proofs, of which I had heard him speak, might not after all be merely terms of art. It was possible. I could remember nothing which was said absolutely inconsistent with this supposition. Still, his presence

troubled me, and while his head was enveloped in his drapery, I threw open the sash, stepped up to him, and was by his side before he was aware of my approach.

The startled expression which came across his face when, on withdrawing his head from its covering, he found me at his elbow, was sufficiently diverting. It plainly indicated to me that he thought no one was at home. Whether he recognised me at first I could not tell, but I had little doubt he did. He immediately, and with a jaunty courtesy, hoped he was not intruding, and explained in a nasal accent, which I had not observed in the carriage, that he was taking photographic views of the county-seats, and was collecting subscriptions for a work illustrative of the district.

I said I was only a visitor; but had no doubt Mr Dagentree would not object to so laudable an enterprise, and suggested that it would have been better if he had announced his approach.

He went on rather volubly to describe the attentions he had received at other houses, and pulling out a prospectus, requested to have the honour of my name and influence for the work.

I laughed, and declined the favour, telling him that I was more in need of patrons than he was. He received back his books with an expression which