I never thought he would make his fortune; but the Avenels are a clever set.

Do you remember poor Nora--the Rose of Lansmere, as they called her?
Ah, no, I think she went up to Lunnun afore your time, sir." "Humph!" said the parson, dryly.

"Well, I think you may take away now.
It will be dark soon, and I'll just stroll out and look about me." "There's a nice tart coming, sir." "Thank you, I've dined." The parson put on his hat and sallied forth into the streets.

He eyed the houses on either hand with that melancholy and wistful interest with which, in middle life, men revisit scenes familiar to them in youth,--surprised to find either so little change or so much, and recalling, by fits and snatches, old associations and past emotions.
The long High Street which he threaded now began to change its bustling character, and slide, as it were gradually, into the high road of a suburb.

On the left, the houses gave way to the moss-grown pales of Lansmere Park; to the right, though houses still remained, they were separated from each other by gardens, and took the pleasing appearance of villas,--such villas as retired tradesmen or their widows, old maids, and half-pay officers select for the evening of their days.
Mr.Dale looked at these villas with the deliberate attention of a man awakening his power of memory, and at last stopped before one, almost the last on the road, and which faced the broad patch of sward that lay before the lodge of Lansmere Park.