needed for the comfort of the first-class clerical world.  Mr. Saul in his abode boasted but few comforts.  He inhabited a big bed-room, in which there was a vast fireplace and a very small grate—­the grate being very much more modern than the fireplace.  There was a small rag of a carpet near the hearth, and on this stood a large deal table—­a table made of unalloyed deal, without any mendacious paint, putting forward a pretence in the direction of mahogany.  One wooden Windsor arm-chair—­very comfortable in its way—­was appropriated to the use of Mr. Saul himself; and two other small wooden chairs flanked the other side of the fireplace.  In one distant corner stood Mr. Saul’s small bed, and in another distant corner stood his small dressing-table.  Against the wall stood a ricketty deal press in which he kept his clothes.  Other furniture there was none.  One of the large windows facing toward the farmyard had been permanently closed, and in the wide embrasure was placed a portion of Mr. Saul’s library—­books which he had brought with him from college; and on the ground under this closed window were arranged the others, making a long row, which stretched from the bed to the dressing-table, very pervious, I fear, to the attacks of mice.  The big table near the fireplace was covered with books and papers—­and, alas, with dust; for he had fallen into that terrible habit which prevails among bachelors, of allowing his work to remain ever open, never finished, always confused—­with papers above books, and books above papers—­looking as though no useful product could ever be made to come forth from such chaotic elements.  But there Mr. Saul composed his sermons, and studied his Bible, and followed up, no doubt, some special darling pursuit, which his ambition dictated.  But there he did not eat his meals; that had been made impossible by the pile of papers and dust; and his chop, therefore, or his broiled rasher, or bit of pig’s fry was deposited for him on the little dressing-table, and there consumed.

Such was the solitary apartment of the gentleman who now aspired to the hand of Miss Clavering; and for this accommodation, including attendance, he paid the reasonable sum of L10 per annum.  He then had L60 left, with which to feed himself; clothe himself like a gentleman—­a duty somewhat neglected—­and perform his charities!

Harry Clavering, as he looked around him, felt almost ashamed of his sister.  The walls were whitewashed, and stained in many places; and the floor in the middle of the room seemed to be very rotten.  What young man who has himself dwelt ever in comfort would like such a house for his sister?  Mr. Saul, however, came forward with no marks of visible shame on his face, and greeted his visitor frankly with an open hand.  “You came down from London yesterday, I suppose?” said Mr. Saul.

“Just so,” said Harry.