It was so barren of good deeds, so sterile of affection.
Yet encrusted as he was in that egotism of his--like the limpet in its shell--my lord perceived nothing of this, suffered nothing of it, understanding nothing.

He was all-sufficient to himself.

Giving nothing, he looked for nothing, and sought his happiness--without knowing the quest vain--in what he had.

The fear of losing this had now in his declining years cast, at length, a shadow upon his existence.
Mr.Caryll looked at him almost sorrowfully.

Then he put by his thoughts, and broke the silence.